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sunflowersteves · 4 years

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jealous thoughts || b.b.

summary || mob!au, you have to flirt with Bucky’s buyer and you were successful, however, Bucky was the least bit impressed.

author’s note || lmao i completely and utterly forgot to post this on tumblr but this was for the marvel x reader fic fest that @fandomsandxfiles had hosted!

warnings || jealousy, anger, smut!!, rough sex, fingering, [18+ only]

Main Masterlist

Bucky’s coming home today.

You sigh, taking a fluffy brush and placing some translucent powder onto your skin. Your fancy white dress felt like it was hugging you. You turned to see Alpine strutting into the bathroom and purring against your legs. Bucky had to deal with a couple of lackeys that turned out to be spies from the Russian Mob. He had to be in New Jersey as well, so it’s been an entire week without your sweet, loving husband.

You discovered that you had missed the little things. You missed how his arms would drape over your body, deep breaths fanning your neck, lips gently caressing your shoulder blade, and soft snores filling the silent air. You both would never miss a single night of cuddling, even when you were pissed off at each other.

Your nights grew colder each day under the bedsheets, Bucky’s warmth was completely absent. He would always have a plethora of water glasses sitting half-empty on the bedside table but now it was clutter-free and bare. Missing your husband was such an unpleasant and disrupting feeling. Every single night he had been gone, you rummaged through his side of the closet and wore one of his shirts to bed. You would relish in the smell and feel of him until the shirts started to lose the essence of him. It felt soul burning and heart wrenching that he wasn’t there right beside you.

You wanted his hot touched skin to radiate onto you. You wanted his hand to slowly slide down your stomach, inching closer and closer to your aching cunt. You wanted Bucky to run a bath after sex, gently cleaning each other. You would always watch Bucky with a swelled heart as each glance and touch that was placed upon your skin was filled with adoration and passion.

You laughed a bit at yourself for having these dramatic thoughts. It’s been only one single week and yet your fire burning ache for him only grew larger. You could survive perfectly in life without him, you knew that very well. You just didn’t want that life.

You try to shake the distracting thoughts from your head, concentrating on getting ready for the dinner party.

Tonight, you were supposed to attend this party with Bucky, however, he still wasn’t home. The party is hosted by one of Bucky’s buyers. Erik was very charming and handsome, he would always have a smile on his face until it turned into a frown. However, it was mostly never aimed at the two of you, as he always had worked well with you and Bucky. He would make sure that all the shipments would arrive on time and made sure that nobody would infiltrate them. He was Bucky’s favorite client to work with, minus the too long of a stare he would occasionally send your way.

The ping of your phone hit your ears and you quickly walked over to where it sat on the counter and took a peak.

Buckaroo: Stuck in traffic. Sorry, Doll.

You sigh, that burning sensation resonated deep within you. You tried to suppress it but you were getting so desperate to see your husband. He’s back in New York now with all of the traffic, he was so close to you yet not close enough. You grabbed your purse and swiftly walked out the door, telling Happy to drive to the venue.

The tall pale mansion with large open windows now became almost like a small house in the distance. Happy went on, talking about boxing the whole way. You never minded those conversations with Happy, however, tonight you just weren’t in the mood to indulge. You just wanted to be snuggled up at home next to Bucky.

You walked up the large stairs that ascended into the skyscraper. Your dress was long and elegant, shaping all of your curves in just the right way. If Bucky was right by your side, he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of you and suggest to leave or as he would put it, “fuck this shipment, let's go fuck each other’s brains out.”

You quietly thank the waiter and grab a glass of champagne off of the tray. You softly sip on the bubbly drink, watching people mingle here and there. You heard loud laughter, soft-spoken words, and chatter throughout the grand room.

“All alone, angel?” A light smile tipped itself onto your lips, as you turned towards the figure next to you. “Bucky had some business to take care of.” He smiled brightly at you, his charming twinkling eyes staring right at you. He opened his arm out, gesturing for you to follow. “Shall we do business then, y/n?” You giggled and nodded, interlocking your arms together, and walking towards a more private area.

You sat down at the end of the big round table, Erik was on the other side, and some of his men stood right behind him. He tapped the side of his whiskey occasionally, the ring on his finger making a soft clunk every time. You kept still, sipping your champagne and hoping the bubbles will make you lighten up a bit. You’ve done Bucky’s business countless times, Steve and Sam would always joke that you did it better than he did.

You purse your lips and cleared your throat which got his attention. “I would like to make an offer.” You pause, waiting for his approval of the matter. He nods and you open your mouth to continue. “You are well aware of Bucky’s territory, with also his recent take over of crown heights. We know you’re in control of the downtown area, Bedford Stuyvesant, and Sunset Park.” An eyebrow rose on Erik’s face, intrigue taking over his features. “We’ve noticed a couple of your men scoping out Williamsburg, Bushwick, and East New York. Those are very large neighborhoods to control.”

He nodded, taking a small sip of his whiskey before replying. “Especially with the larger amounts of the police force in those neighborhoods. It’ll be harder to control the police state.”

Now you nodded, “Exactly. So Bucky and I are proposing that we take over those neighborhoods together. With both of our resources, we’d be able to take control of the neighborhood and the police state. We’d both get the profit 50/50 and we can divide the neighborhoods evenly.”

There was a long silence, Erik’s knuckle was near his lips, and he was staring right at you. You, on the other hand, were getting obscenely nervous. Your hands started to become clammy and your mind was running through every possibility that he was thinking. You were hoping that he would at least consider it but the more amount of silence that was suffocating the air, the more nervous you became.

“I don’t think this offer is for me. Sorry, y/n.” You sigh, taking another sip of your almost empty glass. “You know, you’d be getting 50/50 of the profit.” He snapped his finger and one of his men ran to get a cigar. He pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigar, taking big puffs that were released into the air.

“I think you and I both know that it’ll be much harder than that.” Your eyes locked with his and you knew he was right. What happened if one of Bucky’s men went into his territory and started a fight? What if it happened with Erik? There were a lot of possibilities that could end up in a war but you and Bucky had already thought about them.

Especially with you and Bucky trying to have a baby, you both have to eventually refrain from indulging yourselves in the normal mob business. You both already decided to give the business off to Sam and Steve. And knowing that they have the same moral compass as Bucky, there’s no way that they’d make a huge fuss over a new lackey getting in a fight with someone. The only time they’re dealt with is when they become disloyal.

You set down your glass onto the large table, “Bucky and I have elaborated every possibility we could think of.” Your eyes didn’t meet his. You knew that he was contemplating your decision but you looked over at the strong buff men right beside him. “We could also have altering schedules. That way, there would be no problems with fights or disputes. Communication is what makes this plan full proof and I don’t think NYPD realizes how much we’re willing to cooperate.” He raised an eyebrow. You could tell that he was interested and you were well aware that his concerns were valid. After all, the two biggest mob bosses working together would be tricky. “My answer is still no.”

For another five minutes, you two were going back and forth trying to convince the other to agree and disagree. “I’ve had enough of this game, y/n.” You cursed to yourself in your head. For whatever reason, he wouldn’t budge. You could tell your bargaining skills weren’t working and the two of you were getting more and more frustrating. You tried to only stare at the empty champagne glass, trying to think of another way to get his attention to agree.

A small sly smile reaches up on your face and you curtly walk over to where he was sitting. His bodyguards jumped towards you but he lifted his hand for them to stop. You could tell he was quite entertained by how you were acting this evening.

You placed yourself on his lap, the smirk still playing on your lips. His eyes were blown wide, he seemed quite surprised. You knew that that didn’t happen often, a little bit of pride swelled inside of you. You flirtatiously placed your hand on the peak of his shoulder, then making it move so slowly down his chest.

His eyebrows furrowed and he clicked his tongue, “you’re married.” you playfully shrugged, cringing a bit in your head but you knew it was only to play the part. You had to act like Bucky wasn’t enough. His hands then went to rest on your hips. Pre Bucky days this would make you become a flustered mess, your skin would almost tremble but now, you felt nothing as his fingers dipped right into your skin.

Your eyes twinkled as you whispered seductively in his ear. “I do what I want, Erik.” You nibbled slightly on his ear, making his breath crooked. Your other hand went down his chest again, swirling and feeling his tailored suit.

“We were both born in mafia families. It was arranged.” Technically, you weren’t lying. The two of you did have an arranged marriage, however, you ended up already being in love with Bucky. So, your parents and his parents went ahead and made the deal anyway. A smirk danced on his features, a fiery look in his eyes had ignited. “Alright. I’ll take you up on that offer, y/n. If it means I get to work with you more often.” You smile brightly at your success. Sure, he would try and advance himself at you again but you would cross that bridge when you go there. You were just happy that you got the deal. After doing some more business, you tell him that Bucky is supposed to be coming home and he offered to escort you out.

You took the offer and his men urged you to follow them. You stalked behind them, walking slowly while going through the long deserted hallway. You were looking ahead when right out of nowhere, you feel a pull to your arm. You were yanked over to the wall of the hallway and taken inside a dark room. You tried to scream but a hand quickly covered your mouth. You almost elbowed whoever the fuck was trying to kidnap you until you heard that soft silky voice you know all too well.

“Miss me, sweetheart? By the looks of it, you didn’t.” You ignored the last part of his comment, not caring about whatever he said. All you cared about was being back into his arms again. “Bucky!” You quickly get out of his kidnapping hold and enveloped him into a hug. You latched onto him so fast that his body rocked back a bit.

His light chuckles filled your ears but you could tell something was off. The chuckles didn’t meet his smile nor the crinkle in his eyes. It sounded too fake. You open your mouth to say something but he quickly stops it and detached himself from you. The loss of his body, especially being so close, made you shiver.

“I can’t believe you. Was our whole relationship a lie, then?” You shook your head, not understanding his comment. Furious about what? You didn’t understand it so you opened your mouth again but was swiftly interrupted. However, this time, his large booming voice made you jump.

“I mean, seriously! Cheating on me? How long have you been doing this, huh? Is that why Erik always wants to do business with us?” You almost slapped your forehead for not getting what Bucky was talking about sooner. He must’ve seen you with Erik, assuming that you were trying to get with him.

“Buck-” He harshly grabbed your wrists and pinned you up against the hard wall. His hot breath was fanning against your ear and his body was pressed against yours. Your heart rate skyrocketed at just his touch, electricity boiling over in your stomach. “I guess you need a reminder of who you belong to.”

You shouted out many protests as he yanked you off of the wall, into another small hallway, and right out the door. His face was stern, eyebrows were completely furrowed, and there was a glassy look of rage in his eyes. You could tell he was furious, his breaths were short and light, his tongue darted out to lick his dry lips, and his left hand would coil and uncoil.

So you shut yourself right up and let him take you to a sleek black car that was right outside the building. There was no point in arguing with him when you were already in deep shit for it looking like you were cheating. He opened the passenger side and shoved you into the seat. You quickly buckle your seatbelt as he gets into the driver's side, slamming the door behind him. He started the car and without a word, started to drive home.

His knuckles almost turned white with the grip he had on the steering wheel. If you didn’t think that angry Bucky was one of the hottest things to lay your eyes on then you would be lying to yourself. His muscles were bulging out of his pants and tight shirt, a couple of veins on his forehead were thick.

For the most part, you stared out the window, occasionally sighing. You were thinking about all the ways to explain to him your situation. You knew it would be best to explain yourself when he wasn’t angry but you wanted him to know that what you were doing was just a game, it wasn’t serious. You didn’t want him to start doubting himself. You didn’t want him to leave.

You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Bucky’s hand resting on your thigh and inching closer to the edge of your underwear. By the time you fully noticed, his whole hand was down your pants. He quickly pushed your panties aside with his hand and ran the pads of his fingers up and down your entrance.

A little squeak emerged from your mouth as you peaked over to see a large playful smirk on his lips. Your juices ran up and down your entrance and his fingers moved to circle your clit. “Look at that. Look at how dripping wet you already are, doll.” A delicious moan escaped your mouth, you grabbed his forearm in urgency.

“Can Erik do this? Can Erik make you wet by just simply touching you?” You didn’t have time to react as he pushed a finger inside, slowly moving in and out of your throbbing pussy. “I need words, baby doll.”

You tried to form some kind of acknowledgment but it just turned into a stuttering mess, his movements growing faster. He tried to keep his eyes on the road but he turned towards you again, seeing as your eyes were screwed shut and your head was thrown back. You had opened your legs more as Bucky had pleasured you further.

“Answer the question or I stop.” You groaned at his gruff voice, it was demanding yet sweet. He had never acted like this before, controlling and pure wanting. You two have had a lot of sex but then again, he’s never thought you cheated either.

“Erik c-can’t make me feel t-this way.” You cried out in desperation as he inserted another finger and they curled just slightly. “Who does?” A burst of pleasure erupted in your stomach, his fingers now moving at a rapid pace and his thumb went to gently caress and circle your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You do!” You screamed, and he never took his eyes off of you. You were so close, the knot in your stomach was beginning to unfold. Everything felt like it was throbbing and tightening, your whines kept filling the air. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, letting him know that you were close.

However, then that feeling of pleasure was gone. Bucky had taken his fingers out and just left you sitting there. “Buck-”

You stared in awe as he placed his fingers in his mouth. He tasted your juices, you could almost imagine his wet tongue sucking on his fingers. He let go with a pop, placing the hand back onto the steering wheel. “You taste divine, doll. But we’re almost home.”

So, you did what you could only think of, beg. “Bucky, please. I-I need you. Please, I need your cock or your fingers, anything! Nobody compares to you, I-” his eyes flickered over towards you but he lightly shook his head. He opened his mouth but you continued, hoping that he’d stop the car and take you right here. “Please, Bucky. Nobody makes me so needy as you do. I need your fingers, your lips, and your cock. Please, I need them-”

You were whining still as he pulled up in the driveway. You were interrupted by his car door opening and you quickly got out as well. You were about to get his attention again until he threw you over his shoulder and took large steps, stalking into the house.

“You’ve forgotten how I make you feel, or else you wouldn’t have flirted with Erik.” He didn’t waste any time and he set you on top of the large kitchen island. He pushed you down onto it, the cold marble hitting your back. He quickly undid his belt and roughly ripped your panties off. His plump lips went to immediately attack your neck, sucking and biting.

A large, tight gasp lifted upon your lips, his thick cock was sliding back and forth, teasing your entrance. “Bucky, please!” Your body couldn’t help but writhe on the island as he slammed his thick cock into you. His pace was fast and hard, his fingers went to circle your clit again which made you squirm underneath him. “Fuck, babydoll.”

“Yes, yes, fuck,” You screamed out, grabbing the ends of the island your hands almost cramping from how tight you were holding on to it.

“You’re mine, you got that? My beautiful, sexy wife. I can’t live without you, doll.” the sound of skin on skin was loud and thick, you were moaning and whimpering as his cock filled you up just right. You started to feel that tight coil again, “You going to cum, baby? I want you to cum all over me, okay?”

He sounded desperate, almost begging for him to feel you orgasm all over him. You moaned his name over and over again, your mind only thinking about your husband. “Let it go, baby. I got you.” You let out a long cry, cumming all over his cock. Sloppy juices ran down your thighs and it covered Bucky whole. A low groan sounded from his throat, continuing to push himself in and out of you.

A long moan escaped his mouth. He was about to take himself out of you but you stopped him, urging for him to cum inside of you. “Doll, if you don’t want to-” You shook your head, pressing your forehead against his. “I want to, Buck. I want a baby with you.”

Just that sentence had hit him over the edge, his head was forced back and his eyes were snapped shut. You could feel his cum inside of you, he shouted your name over and over again. He continued shooting himself all in you, and your moans were mixed. You were both panting, no words were shared for quite some time. His hands then lowered from your stomach to your hips, squeezing them a bit.

He went to open his mouth, a concerned look was given your way but this time, you interrupted him. “I got the deal.” His hands still rested on your hips but his head cocked to the side in confusion. “What?”

You nodded, taking your hand and resting your palm against his cheek. He subconsciously leaned towards the warmth of your hand. “I’m so so sorry that you had to see what you did. I promise you though, you’re enough.” Tears had fully rolled down his face, his sniffles filling the air. After what he had seen earlier, he needed to hear that. “You’re more than enough, Buck—you’re the sunshine in my life.”

Your sobs punctured the air, your chest tightening even more at the thought of Bucky becoming insecure because of you. He lifts his lips into a small smile while you move your thumb up and down on his cheek.

His body became closer now, his torso between your thighs. “Erik wouldn’t budge when I offered him the deal. He kept refusing and it was getting to the point where we were both just so frustrated. I had a hunch that he found me attractive. So, I used that to my advantage and we got the 50/50 deal on territory and profits.” A large smile burst onto Bucky’s face, he seemed very relieved that what he saw wasn’t true.

“Oh, you flirt!” You slapped his chest, both of your bubbly laughter engulfing the kitchen. “Now that I know the truth, I’m not going to lie, you deceiving others is pretty hot.” His hand reached down and intertwined it with yours. A hum left his lips as the hand that was on your cheek moved to play with his hair.

“It’s hot, huh? Guess I should do it more often.” His forehead leaned down to touch yours, a light content sigh leaving his lips. “I’m serious, Buck. I love you more than anything.” His hand reached up and touched the shape of your nose, eyes flickering around your face almost like he was memorizing it. “I love you too, doll.”

He straightened up a bit, his sweet smile turning into a cocky smirk. “Well then, for getting the deal done, we should have victory sex.” You giggled, pressing a long-overdue kiss on his lips. “I think that’s a great idea. But this time, baby, I’m in charge.” He chuckled, lifting your torso so you were now wrapped around his body and he started walking towards the bedroom. “Anything for you, my beautiful wife.”

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quixoticnexus · 4 years

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Morality Guide

All of my characters have “Classical Alignments” listed in their About Pages, but I decided I wanted to expand on that, since it only really gives you an idea of what you’re dealing with. So if you’re interested in hearing the in-depth analysis of why I put them where they are, keep reading! Going in order of when they were added. (This might continue to be updated as I add more characters.)

Xavier: Chaotic Good

Xavier is a young man who’s deeply disillusioned with the establishment and how the world works as a whole. He’s convinced that nothing will ever change and no good will ever come unless the entire system is burned to ashes. While he’s emphatic about protecting those weaker and underprivileged, he’s also quick to resort to violence to get the result he wants.

This ideology is pretty firmly baked into his persona due to years of trauma and abuse. It’s hard to get him to change his ways, but not impossible. Someone caring and patient enough might be able to ease his savage temper and make him see that maybe he DOESN’T have to default to violence all the time and that maybe some people in the establishment genuinely care for the well being of others and can stay. So he’d drift towards Neutral Good in that instance.

That said, someone could also convince him to become utterly jaded in the idea that there’s even a concept such as Good or Evil in the first place, and just convince him that the only thing that matters is burning the establishment. In that instance, he’d become much closer to Chaotic Neutral, but due to his naturally caring nature, this would be much harder to do. His inclinations towards good are much stronger than his inclinations towards lawlessness, despite what it might seem on the surface!

Adrian: Neutral Good / Chaotic Good / True Neutral / Chaotic Neutral

This guy is possibly the second most flexible when it comes to interpretations of his morality. (More on that in a second.) He almost always starts out as either Chaotic Good (most Thief-only verses) or Chaotic Neutral (most Spy/Assassin verses). Obviously his “hobby” automatically puts him on the wrong side of the law, and in general, he can be quite selfish. Life has taught him that nothing actually matters except for fond memories and varied experiences you can relive later. Even his “Code of Conduct” is less about easing the suffering of others and is mostly about keeping things interesting for himself.

That said, he’s not nearly as baked into those positions as Xavier is. While he’ll never cross over into being completely evil, it’s pretty easy to mellow the Chaos aspect out since his rather jaded outlook on the world comes from a place of heartbreak rather than malice. If someone feels like going the extra mile and helping him realize he shouldn’t be such a selfish dick (to everyone but those he’s attached to), you can even possibly get him into the Neutral Good category! Otherwise, he’s likely going True Neutral.

Tobias: True Neutral (HIGHLY variable)

This guy is the one who has the highest potential to change from verse to verse. He’s smack dab in the middle of the chart, not because he’s perfectly balanced in every way, but because he’s super impressionable and will change based on the last thing that sounded good to him. How he ends up depends entirely on the people he looks to for guidance, for better or for worse.

I really can’t stress this enough. So far in most of his interactions, he’s been pretty good, if not a bit annoying and dude-bro-y. With good role models like Rose and Leon, he acts pretty respectably! With girls he wants to impress like Annalise, he can (eventually) be convinced to actually improve himself to be more appealing to them. He can become neutral good, or even lawful good with enough effort. It’s possible!

BUT. The flip-side is also possible. To put it bluntly, he’s one step removed from a full-blown incel, and I mean that in a completely literal fashion. This guy is one or two seedy internet forums away from losing his mind and trying to drive a truck into a crowd of women. It is THAT BAD. His sense of entitlement and desperation for anyone that will validate him makes him a prime target for radicalization, or even being directly used by evil people who will make him feel wanted.

In short, he’s the best Grunt anyone could hope to have. If you pay him with a sense of belonging, he will do ANYTHING you ask and subscribe to ANY ideology, no matter how fucked up.

Kouki: Lawful Good

Kouki’s as stereotypically Lawful Good as you can get. He is purely a pacifist, doesn’t eat meat (or consume animal products in modern verses like dairy), and probably would answer you literally stabbing him in the gut by threatening to raise his voice.

Like basically all of the guys listed above, his point of view came from a long life of abuse and neglect, but instead of getting jaded or angry with the world, he decided to make the conscience choice to live his life in a way that will never hurt anyone the way he was hurt in the past. He’s tied that philosophy with the “religion” he now lives his life by, and it won’t be changing any time soon.

There’s no way anyone could ever get him out of the “Good” category. The most you can hope for is convincing him that some laws are designed to hurt people and are thus unjust, resulting in a more neutral take. But even that’s going to be a struggle for you. This is a guy that lives and dies by his extremely strong moral compass.

“Doc”: Neutral Evil

This guy has no morals and is utterly self serving to the point of it being cancerous. I have him classified as Neutral Evil, because he does see the use in using the law to his advantage as a shield, when it suits him. But obviously the things he does isn’t ever going to be state sanctioned.

If given a choice, though, he’d be mostly aligned with the Lawful side than Chaotic. This guy absolutely LOVES twisting contracts and agreements to serve his needs. He finds the comfort that comes with having whatever you say backed up in ink very reassuring. That way if he ever does come down, at least he can drag his associates down with him.

Kyoko: True Neutral

While Kyoko’s morality is also variant based on the universe she’s in, it’s much less so than our friend Tobias. For the most part, she only sticks to the variations of Neutral and never strays too far to the extreme corners of LG/LE/CG/CE.

She is ultimately a self serving individual like Doc and Adrian, but unlike those two that are determined to twist the world to wring every drop out of enjoyment out of it before they drop dead, Kyoko’s mostly just trying to survive. She just exists in this space and is trying to get by as best as she can without raising a fuss or raising suspicions.

If that means a few people who saw too much maybe have to disappear, that’s too bad, but it’s the circle of life in a way. One being dies so another will live. And live, and live, and live, and live.

Kaneda: Chaotic Neutral

Kaneda’s kind of a surprising one for a lot of reasons, but I think how unstable his mood is in general makes a great case for Chaotic Neutral as opposed to True Neutral. Chaos is a large part of his life, as is the opposition to norms that he feels hold people back from their true potential. He always encourages people to be most true to themselves above all else, damn society.

He’s also commonly at odds with the law in many of his verses, but that has less to do with it -- unlike someone like Xavier, who’s made total anarchy his life’s mission. Kaneda’s opposition is mostly to societal norms and stuff like the gender binary and how one is allowed to express themselves.

That being said, Kaneda is pretty impressionable and is willing to do basically anything to prove himself worthy of being loved. Depending on who is influencing him, he can quite easily drift from Chaotic Good to even Chaotic Evil. (But Chaotic Evil is a bit of a heavier lift thanks to his general love of humanity.)

Touma: True Neutral

Touma is to True Neutral what Kouki is to Lawful Good. In fact, he might be even more rigid in his placement overall. He is the total opposite to Tobias, who will flip into another category at the drop of a hat.

Touma is almost militant in his desire and inclination to only look out for his own. He would do anything for his daughter and extended family as a whole -- no matter how cruel or sadistic. If it helps him in his goal to provide for his family, he’ll do it with no questions asked and no quibbles. And trust me when I say he’s done some fucked up shit in the past to achieve this end.

That being said, he doesn’t seek out such stuff, and would prefer to not have to do it at all. He has a working moral compass and knows what’s right and what’s wrong. It just ultimately doesn’t matter to him when the chips are on the table.

#headcanons: xavier #headcanons: tobias #headcanons: adrian #headcanons: kouki #headcanons: doc #headcanons: kaneda #headcanons: touma #ooc: deep dives #headcanons: kyoko

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magalarajoonideprohvetid · 6 years

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blackouts [transgressive anthropology]

«Wow! I thought the lights went out!» (sudden exclamation by prof. Carlo Cubero at Debates in Anthropology lecture on the 15th of March 2018)

This moment is embedded in my memory, an ultimate manifestation of honesty, said out loud with no restraints, the peak of the lecture, the peak of the whole course – a sudden darkness. I do not know about you but I have on several occasions felt a sudden blackout, like the blink of an eye and I am not sure – did I just blink, did the lights go out for a micro-second, did my brain shutdown for a second, did I have a stroke, did only I (not) see it? Usually I have had others around me to calm me down, «Yes, we saw it also, I think the electricity flickered for a moment.» Is it you, Niko, sending us inter-dimensional messages through your most known invention, chthonic news through alternative current? If there would not be electricity in our households, would I even be writing about this phenomena, is momentary blackout a ‘thing’ without the light bulb? Or am I writing about something completely different, the blackout our unconsciousness creates when our consciousness is not ready for the incoming message?

writing culture

If there are any dogmas in anthropology, it is the inclusion of fieldwork into the methodological frame - for it to count as anthropology, a researcher needs to step out of academia and come back with outsourced data. Yes, it is extremely valuable that there is something new added to the usual academics circular referencing, agency has been given to the unheard and original voices. But in the same time questions arises - what is and when is anthropology? Is it students reading the theories? Or is it anthropologist on the fieldsite? James Clifford analyzes the cover picture of Writing Culture, where Stephen Tyler is writing during his fieldwork:

«In this image the ethnographer hovers at the edge of the frame—faceless, almost extraterrestrial, a hand that writes. It is not the usual portrait of anthropological fieldwork. We are more accustomed to pictures of Margaret Mead exuberantly playing with children in Manus or questioning villagers in Bali. Participant observation, the classic formula for ethnographic work, leaves little room for texts.» (Clifford, 1)

This picture gives the impression than an anthropologist does everything in the field, he participates, observes and simultaneously writes. In reality the ‘real’ writing happens retrospectively, and that might be one of the biggest problems of anthropology – there is no anthropology of the present, the reproducible anthropology is classically done in the post-fieldwork stage. This is valid for both ethnographic writing and film, as both ‘texts’ are produced afterwards. Doing currently auto-fieldwork, being on ‘ramadan-mode’, I am deeply stressed as I cannot do much writing, my notes are scribbles bearing no great weight, I am too heavily influenced and too stuck in the actual experience to do any reflective writing. Vincent Crapanzano says similar things about Goethe’s experience of the carnival:

«A conventional Ash Wednesday meditation, perhaps, Goethe's conclusion marks are turn to contemplation, introspection, and concern for the meaning of what we do. His “return” parallels a return in the ceremony he describes. During the carnival there is no reflection, just play, masquerading, and, as we say nowadays, acting out. With Ash Wednesday begins a period of penitence, and, we must presume, a return to introspection, order, and individuality.» (Crapanzano, 68)

After the experience thou, the author becomes active and starts to describe the lived experiences; how the description is done, how it is reflected and to whom it is directed, that depends on the author. Crapanzano describes the ethnographic encounters of George Caitlin with the Mandan tribe in North America and their initiation rituals of O-Kee-Pa:

«Here Catlin moves from his (objectifying) metaphorical perspective to that of the tortured; despite this move, his intention is not phenomenological, but rhetorical: He does not describe either the Indian's or his own experience of the torture. The «imps and demons as they appear» (to whom? to Catlin? to the Mandan?) is stylistically equivalent to «there is no hope of escape from it.» They are directed to the reader, and it is the reader's reaction that will guarantee Catlin's perceptions.» (Crapanzano, 57)

So Caitlin’s intention was to captivate the reader, to tell the story in a way that it works specifically on the reader, it is not him nor Native Americans in the story he has written, it is the reader he is trying to drag into the story. In Caitlin’s case, the author is playing around with the reader’s morality and the reader’s possible endeavor toward morality. Crapanzano gives another example, where the author is more inclined to play on the ‘dirty’ thoughts of the reader by using contemporary puns:

«The title of Clifford Geertz’s essay «Deep Play: Notes on a Balinese Cockfight,» written about the time the film Deep Throat was all the rage, announces a series of erotic puns—puns, Geertz maintains, the Balinese themselves would understand—used throughout his essay. Puns are frequent in ethnography. They position the ethnographer between his world of primary orientation, his reader's world, and the world of those others, the people he has studied, whom at some level, I believe, he is also addressing (Crapanzano 1977a). Through the pun he appeals collusively to the members of one or the other world, usually the world of his readership, there by creating a hierarchical relationship between them. He himself, the punster, mediates between these worlds.» (Crapanzano, 68-69)

Crapanzano’s general theme for the article in Writing Culture is anthropologist/ethnographer as god Hermes, someone who is always bringing messages, someone who is a translator between ‘gods’ and ‘humans’, but whose messages might not contain the whole truth, they (singular!) might be lying for the sake of themself, the informants or for the sake of the readers, they needs to make a convincing case (Ibid, 52).

transgressive fiction

If I have to name three books from high school that really influenced me (both literally and literary), then these books were not and most probably will not be in the obligatory reading list. Two of them were loaned to me by friends, they had read them and suggested that I would be interested – Dead Babies by Amis Martin and The Beach by Alex Garland. Both stories travel in closed communities where sex and drug usage is common among the characters, where atrocities happen to them, and in general the environment of the book, its locus is a degenerate one. If one is to make charts, then Dead Babies is in my opinion a few grades more on the transgressive fiction side than The Beach. Now the third book was Check-out by Estonian author Kaur Kender, the first and last book in Estonia that has had «PARENTAL ADVISORY EXPLICIT CONTENT» sticker on it (only for advertisement reasons, there has not yet been such restrictions in the literary scene). The protagonist of this book is a filthy rich business-man, whose main efforts in life revolve around fornication and intoxication, both fueled by boredom and leading to the humiliation of others as he is capable to do whatever he wants with other people, it is self-destruction and liberation, mirroring society back at itself. Having grown up watching movies like Pulp Fiction and Dobermann, where protagonists are the ‘baddest’ on the conventional moral and ethical paradigm but in the same time there is something likable about them, they stand on the right side of life whilst doing bad things, Check-out did come as a shocker because there was nothing good about the main character, he was utterly bad, none of that misunderstood Robin Hood type of ‘badness’. For the first time I had been transgressed by the author, and I transgressed into the character. In retrospective Kender has said (heard it on a public event of the re-release of the Check-out in 2016), that the character was based on the stories he had witnessed and heard of local businessmen, and of his own alcohol and drug addictions (especially the ending of the book, where the protagonist starts using heroin). His book was based on participant observations and autoethnographical method.

Chuck Palahniuk is most known for his novel Fight Club, made famous by movie adaption and Brad Pitts’ six-packs’. I have not read that novel but I have read Haunted by Palahniuk (that one also has a PARENTAL ADVISORY sticker on the cover, Kender’s book was released almost a decade earlier). It tells the story of a group of people who apply for an experimental creative writing course and are then locked up in an abandoned art-house cinema. Every chapter consists of a poem about the main character of that chapter, a story of her/his origin, and a part of the main narrative with her/him as the leading character in it. The first chapter tells the story of a character named Saint Gut-Free, it consists of three different stories about ‘masturbation gone wrong’, onanism that might have killed the onanists. On page 17 of this 400 page modern horror story I have a blackout, the story becomes so disturbing, so real in my head, every word brings me closer to the conclusion of the story, and in my mind I already know where it is leading, Palahniuk has given enough hints, there is no happy ending, and every word brings it closer and my heart is rushing and I feel noxious… I blackout, I skip a paragraph (of course I read it later), I calm myself and continue reading. Palahniuk writes in the afterword a longer explanation how this story came to life, and how the reception has been so far. We tend to hope that the craziest stories are not the ones taken from real life, that these are made up, the fruit of fantasy. Palahniuk ruins the illusion the same way Kender did:

«No, this week, my writer friends just laughed, and I told them how the three-act story of ‘Guts’ was based on three true anecdotes. Two had happened to friends, and the last had happened to a man I’d met while attending sex addict support groups to research my fourth novel. They were three funny, gradually more upsetting true stories about experiments with masturbation gone wrong. Horribly wrong. Nightmarishly wrong.» (Palahniuk, 407)

Without mudding the water, I say out that in my opinion he was performing a participant observation, he, as many other writers, are ethnographers without the academia and without theory. Palahniuk’s emphasis is not on the credibility, it is on style and on affect:

«Reading ‘Guts’ takes a full head of steam. You don’t get many moments to look up from the page. But when I did, the faces in the front row looked a little gray. Beyond that were questions and answers. The book signing. The End.

It wasn’t until I’d signed the last book that a clerk said two people had fainted. Two young men. They’d both dropped to the concrete floor during ‘Guts’ but they were fine now, with no memory of anything between standing, listening, and waking up surrounded by people’s feet.» (Ibid, 408)

I could have been one of these two fainters, or at least fluctuating between consciousness and blackout. The main question for me is in the affect of the text, how something that is usually considered ‘unreal’ can make us feel physically sick?

transgressive ethnography

In a way, ethnographers have always written transgressive texts, most of the texts describe social norms and activities very different from the one of the audience of these texts. One of the dogmas for transgressive fiction is that the protagonist emerges through the violations of norms as a free(er) individual. One way of describing anthropologist is that they are like translators, who translate different cultures to an understandable format (as a colonialist discipline it used to be for the Europeans but things should have changed?). Another way of describing anthropologists is not so much as an interpreter but an inventor, s/he invents a culture, dogmatizes its principles into an ethnographic ‘holy book’, how this culture should be, has been, and will be, not understanding that it is not how it used to be, that is not how every single person inside that environment and/or space relates to that culture, and people do not have to spend their lives fulfilling the dogmas set in the ethnographer’s ‘holy scripture’ (most probably half a year later there will be a missionary there and everyone is wearing pants and singing songs of our Saviour Jesus). Vincent Crapanzano unites these two description into one:

«Like translation, ethnography is also a somewhat provisional way of coming to terms with the foreignness of languages – of cultures and societies. The ethnographer does not, however, translate texts the way translator does. He must first produce them.» (Crapanzano, 51)

Lets take for instance the infamous case of Margaret Mead and the Samoans. As we know by now, Margaret Mead went to do fieldwork with Samoan, came back and wrote an awesome ethnography on how Samoan teenage girls are sexually liberated. Derek Freeman waits a few years after Margaret Mead’s death, publishes a book on how she was wrong and that Samoans have actually very strict rules for sexual conduct. Now, there are several interpretations for this controversy, and explanations, some of them, like Paul Shankman’s The History of Samoan Sexual Conduct and the Mead-Freeman Controversy gives more ambivalent interpretation to the sexual norms and behaviors in Samoa (Shankman 1996). It could be possible that both Mead and Freeman just saw different sides of the same society, if there only would not be this moment when one of Mead’s informants tells a retrospective view of the incident:

«Yes she asked us what we did after dark. We girls would pinch each other and tell her that we were out with the boys. We were only joking but she took it seriously. As you know Samoan girls are terrific liars and love making fun of people but Margaret thought it was all true.» (Heimans 1988, 3:36)

So what did she do – ‘translate’ the culture in the wrong way, had wrong data, or maybe she was in a way creating something the readers wanted to hear? Looking at both Mead and Palahniuk I must come to the following conclusions: Samoans lied and we were happy, Palahniuk presumably told the truth and it is disgusting. We as readers, we like to read about ‘sexually liberated’ women, and Samoan girls played that role in Mead’s ethnography really well. In a way, Mead’s ethnography tells more about her own society and herself than about the Samoans, she was giving liberation to the Western world and to herself.

In a discussion about transgressive fiction, we cannot continue without talking about Untitled 12, a modern horror story by Kaur Kender, where the first person protagonist is a pedophile (and sadistic sexual pervert in general). I read the whole story on Nihilist.fm on the night it came out and it was a devastating experience, I skipped parts of it as I was not capable to read even the obviously exaggerated and absurd descriptions of sexual violence, I felt hollowed after that experience, and that was something he wished to accomplish (Kender 2015). What happened was that someone reported to the police, that it might be child pornography (Estonian laws include a very wide range of material from pictures and videos to written text as it might depict underage children in pornographic situations), and police went after it. It was taken to court and got media coverage even outside of Estonia (as it is not usual any longer in Western societies that known writers have been taken to court for these specific charges) (ERR 2017). In the end he was declared innocent by two levels of court, and has since then left Estonia with a promise to never write in Estonian again. But what was very interesting with this case was the possibilities for alternative situations and how would they have been perceived. For instance, if it would have been someone’s personal experiences, someone who had been raped as a child and if that someone writes about this experience with graphic details, could that be also considered child pornography? Or if someone describes their sexual experience as a minor (depending on the explanation of the Penal Code it could be either under 14 or 18 years old), could that be considered child pornography? As a reader, was I consuming unknowingly child pornography if Kender would have been found quilty? These may sound as hypothetical questions, but if one is active in literary world (both as producer and consumer) then these questions become rather substantial.

Untitled 12 is made up, it is fictional, and from this fictional world it became very realistic, I was in court during a few of the open hearings and those benches, the jury and the prosecutor, they were all very real. But how is this all connected to anthropology? In some cases anthropologist are not the good guys, friendly scientist, who participate with respect and observe with sincerity. For instance José Padilha’s documentary Secrets of the Tribe deals with several controversial incidents what different anthropologist researching Yanomami tribe had caused. One of these anthropologist was Jacques Lizot, who according to his victims had raped and sexually abused several young Yanomami boys (Padilha, 42:44-55:08). This was known by other anthropologist and researchers, but it was overlooked for many years and until today there has been no court cases nor other serious consequences for his real transgressions. He transgressed in real life, not in a fictional world, his victims are real human beings and not made up characters. His contribution to anthropology? Yanomami dictionary, with specific terms for sexual activities like masturbation etc.

Lizot case is a real pedophilia case, this kind of behavior is not accepted in the current Western society nor in Yanomami society, it is a taboo. Gilbert Herdt’s case is a little bit different, but the similarities reside in the transgression, in his case it is the witnessing and writing part what matters. Herdt has done fieldwork with the ‘Sambia’ tribe (pseudoneum he created for the tribe) in Papua New Guinea and has published several articles on them and a collection of these articles Sambia Sexual Culture: Essays From the Field (Herdt, 1999). The Sambia tribe used to have a rather controversial initiation rituals for young boys (current situation with these rituals is unknown for me) – they were taken from their mothers at age 9, put through painful purification ritual of bloodletting from the nose, and then forced to perform oral sex on older boys. Later on they become the boys who receive oral sex, and after that they become adult man who will marry a woman and presumably only participate in heterosexual activity. Reasoning behind the ritual is that the bloodletting will purify them from the attachment to their mother (and women in general), and that men are born without semen and to have semen one has to digest semen. Herdt seems to view these rituals from a less negative stance, as a form of bisexuality and gives agency to free sexual desires. James Giles, who has written a review of Herdt’s book, is less enthusiastic about it and clearly questions the rituals as in his opinion they are not connected to desire at all:

«… sexual behavior can be engaged in for numerous reasons, many of which have nothing to do with sexual desire (Giles, 2004). This fact is especially important to be aware of when one is studying the sexual desires of people from a sexually nonpermissive and prescriptive culture like that of the Sambia.» (Giles, 2004, 414)

Now my point is neither condemning of Sambian rituals nor Herdt’s presentation and analyze of them, my point lies much more in the product, in the ethnography. If an anthropologist writes on a similar topic, something that is in generally considered a taboo topic, that s/he describes with graphic details, then there is a chance, at least in Estonia, that someone might complain to the police, as was the case with Kender’s book. Police will then forward it to the “Porn-committee”, expert committee in Ministry of Culture, who will then decide if it is pornographic or not. We might say “But this is science and it is protected by the constitution”, but this was also the case with Kender – both are protected by the constitution:

«§ 38. Science and art and their teachings are free. Universities and research institutions are autonomous within the limits prescribed by the law.» (The Constitution of the Republic of Estonia)

What is problematic, is the Penal Code, definition of child pornography is rather broad and thus it can include different forms of it:

«§ 178. Manufacture of works involving child pornography or making child pornography available

(1) Manufacture, acquisition or storing, handing over, displaying or making available to another person in any other manner of pictures, writings or other works or reproductions of works depicting a person of less than eighteen years of age in a pornographic situation, or a person of less than fourteen years of age in a pornographic or erotic situation, is punishable by a pecuniary punishment or up to three years’ imprisonment.» (Penal Code)

I have been so far talking only in the context of written text, most probably the situation becomes more difficult if the text includes pictures, Allah forbid if it is not text but a film. In case it includes pictures, or if it is a film, then we have a serious ethical and moral problem, and that is not even connected to the child pornography laws. It is a question for us anthropologist, can we and should we show visual data to others, are we abusing the right for privacy, are we exploiting our informants? A great friend of mine had a self-made zine which he called National Pornographic, he had taken old National Geographic editions, cut out all pictures of naked ‘indigenous’ people and glued them together with added sensual texts. He did it purposely to show how Western society has sexualized the ‘natives’, how their breasts and nipples can be shown without censoring, as if the same rules do not apply to ‘them’ as do to ‘us’. National Geographic is a safe haven for monsters like Lizot.

[non]clusion

There are occasions when anthropologists truly transgress. And there are occasions when anthropologists write truly transgressive ethnographies. Unfortunately it usually happens after they themselves have been transgressed. Such is the case when reading Eva Moreno’s chapter Rape in the field in collection Taboo: Sex, Identity, and Erotic Subjectivity in Anthropological Fieldwork (Moreno 1995). First, and basically the foremost, she builds the story (ibid. 219-232), like the rapist built the assault on her, she builds it the same way as Palahniuk built his story, the reader is obviously hinted from the title that there will be rape but she is calmly leading the reader toward the rape, adding with the suspension until one fatal page she hits us with it. And I do blackout again, skipping paragraphs ashamed as I have a privilege to do it, she did not have a chance to skip it. The reflection part of the chapter (Ibid, 236-248) adds other layers, it elongates the rape but in a weird way calms the reader as you will see the surviving after the rape. I do not know her feelings about the chapter and writing it, but it does feel as if she has done something that is more on the positive side than on the negative one, that this text has been written with traumatic emancipation.

What seems to be essential in this inner discussion is the role of the author. These texts (both literary and audiovisual ones) would not exist without the author, people and culture and practices and incidents would abide in their own realm as they are, but these texts need the author. And as much as these texts need the author, so does the author need the texts, it is a validation of their experience. Having just finished Michael Muhammad Knight’s Osama Van Halen, sequel for his debut novel Taqwacores, I feel compelled to do something with the author. Knight’s take on the author was that he included himself as character into a fictional story, as Michael Muhammad Knight and as ‘the author’, he tossed himself around in the novel until he is beheaded by one of the main characters, by ‘burqa wearing riot grrrl’ Rabeya (Knight 2009, 207). Is the symbolical beheading of the discipline, the removal of the ‘mind’ and revival of the body, is that something that I am after as an author? Sometimes we need to blackout to flashin.

«Sun set a few hours ago, and moon is not around. Sky is striped with clouds, stratocumulus and stratus clouds, altocumulus and altostratus clouds, they are all there. Midnight prayer was already 2 hours ago and I look on horizon as the rays of dawn shine there. Smoke diffuses and the bud drops in the ashtray, I recede to lay on my bed and to watch the first season of Narcos. As the violence on screen escalates, I have doubts in my sanity, I think I am hallucinating as I continuously see flashes of lightning outside of my window. Delusions were happening already on the first week of Ramadan, I saw glimpses of movement, small swirls of energy in midair, flashes of something from the corner of my eye. Today there is lightning I see from the corner of my eye, moments of flash/ins instead of black/outs. It’s not raining and the clouds are not dark, air doesn’t feel as it has been electrified to that extent. Kristi is sleeping and I can’t get verification from anyone. After the first flash I think maybe it was some kind of trick my mind played on me, after second one I think maybe it was a reflection from TV, after the third one I assume it was an ambulance car light (I live next to a hospital). After the fourth and final flash I am afraid to look out from the window, instead I drink my last glass of water and pray dawn prayer. 17th day of Ramadan has a weird start. As I fall to sleep, I hear the rain arriving, it sooths my fears of going insane. I saw the lightning and heard the rain, but I didn’t hear the thunder nor see the drops.» (Fieldwork notes; 17th of Ramadan, 1439 / 2nd of June, 2018)

References

Clifford, James. 1986. Introduction: Partial Truths. In James Clifford & George E. Marcus (Eds.), Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography ( 1 – 27 ). Berkeley, California and London, England: University of California Press.

The Constitution of the Republic of Estonia.

Retrieved June 5, 2018 from

https://www.riigiteataja.ee/en/eli/530102013003/consolide

Crapanzano, Vincent. 1986. Hermes’ Dilemma: The Masking of Subversion in Ethnographic Description. In James Clifford & George E. Marcus (Eds.), Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography (pages of chapter). Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press.

ERR. 2016. Finnish PEN club: Kender’s ‘U12’ is a ‘grotesque thriller’, not child porn. Eesti Rahvusringhääling (ERR). Retrieved June 5, 2018 from https://news.err.ee/118569/finnish-pen-club-kender-s-u12-is-a-grotesque-thriller-not-child-porn

Garland, Alex. 1999. Rand [The Beach] (Turu, Rein, Trans.). Tallinn, Estonia: Varrak.

Giles, James. 2004. Book Reviews: Sambia Sexual Culture: Essays From the Field. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 33(4), 413–417.

Heimans, Frank (Director). 1988. Margaret Mead and Samoa [Documentary]. Cremorne, New South Wales: Cinetel Productions. Retrieved June 5, 2018 from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8puR-AaSrg

Herdt, Gilbert. 1999. Sambia Sexual Culture: Essays From the Field. Illinois: University of Chicago Press.

Kender, Kaur. 2001. Check out. Tallinn, Estonia: Pegasus.

Kender, Kaur. 2015, January 14. Mõned sõnad Untitled 12 kohta [Few words about Untitled 12] [Web log post]. Retrieved June 5, 2018 from http://nihilist.fm/moned-sonad-untitled-12-kohta/

Kender, Kaur. 2014. Untitled 12. Nihilist.Fm : ZA/UM

Knight, Michael Muhammad. 2009. Osama Van Halen. Brooklyn, New York: Soft Skull Press

Martin, Amis. 2000. Surnud lapsed [Dead Babies] (Metsaots, Kati, Trans.). Tallinn, Estonia: Olion.

Moreno, Eva. 1995. Rape in the field. In Don Kulick & Margaret Willson (Eds.), Taboo: Sex, identity, and erotic subjectivity in anthropological fieldwork. London, England: Routledge.

Padilha, José (Director). 2010. Secrets of the Tribe [Documentary]. Brazil: Avenue B Productions Zazen Produções. Retrieved June 5, 2018 from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zd7SXbsn0hU

Palahniuk, Chuck. 2006. Haunted. London, England: Vintage Books.

Penal Code of the Republic of Estonia. Retrieved June 5, 2018 from https://www.riigiteataja.ee/en/eli/522012015002/consolide

Shankman, Paul. 1996. The History of Samoan Sexual Conduct and the Mead-Freeman Controversy. American Anthropologist, 98(3), 555-567.

#anthropology #transgressive #transgression #autoethnography #literature #eesti kirjandus #kirjandus #ethnography

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