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monst · 4 years

Text

Together

All Characters 18+

Challenge #4

Todoroki shouto x Reader

Warnings: Sexy time themes mentioned.

The last part of this mini series ^.^ Its crazy how these challenges turned into a small series O.O but, I had a lot of fun writing these and, I hope that the person who I was Secret Santa for likes them! I had fun including their favorite things into these. So without further ado:

When he had confessed his feelings for you he had assumed you would reject them. He was still under the impression that he was your charity case. Something to help you get over the sting of your soulmates death. He was over the moon when you had confirmed for the millionth time that that wasn’t the case and that you also held feelings for him.

The both of you were content. You wouldn’t say you completed each other it was something deeper than that. Something that a soulmate mark could never replicate. It was something natural, real, raw. It was as cheesy as it sounded it was love. True and unconditional. It was forgetful of the past and forgiving of mistakes. It was something the both of you never thought you’d be able to have.

Life had brightened up considerably for the both of you and, soon after Shouto got his GED. You were so excited for him that you proposed the both of you go out and celebrate. Sadly not everyone looked at Shouto with the same eyes as you did. Everyone still saw a ‘vile’ Todoroki. His heart swelled when you gripped his hand tighter and professed your love for him in front of the judgemental masses.

You were uncaring of the negative comments thrown at the both of you. Nor did you pay mind to the people who tried to tell you of how disgusting he was and what he used his body for. You were well aware of what he had to do to survive and, you loved him dearly for his strength. Your lips had brushed over every wound and scar with tenderness. Nothing he had ever done in his past could sway your feelings.

With your status you were allowed passage into the restaurant you booked however, you soon realized that even though you loved him not everyone was ready to treat him as a fellow human being. It broke your heart to see in person how awful he was treated. So the both of you resolved to keep your love between yourselves after all Claudio had once said, “Speak low if you speak love.” It was less harmful this way. Especially since you had poured your steaming drink into a particularly nasty man’s lap.

No one at your workplace had seen you so giddy before. Your cheeks hurt from how much you were smiling. Shouto had shot you a text earlier in the day saying that he landed an actual job and that he wanted to take you out on a date. Imagine that your first date with the wonderful angel. Work couldn’t have ended sooner. And, once it was time to go you flew past all of your employees and raced home.

An indoor date. It was cute and, perfectly fitting. He said it was a ‘game night, date night’. You figured he would pull out a couple of board games in order to keep things from getting dull. Not that a moment with him was ever dull. When you unlocked the door you really thought your face was going to split in two. He had strung up fairy lights and cleared the living room floor.

In the middle of it was a stereotypical checkered sheet and on the coffee table to the side were the board games you held back a snort. You had come to know that Shouto although built like a greek god was a major dork who had a thing for playing board games. With a cute smile said man ushered you out of your coat and walked you over to the ‘picnic’. You giggled at the oddly cut sandwiches but, you were glad that he was learning.

“This is amazing Shouto.” You beamed. “And, I’m so proud of you!” You squealed pulling the male into a hug. He easily melted into your embrace. A shy smile touched his lips when he pulled back.

“I figured it would be better this way.” He mumbled not mentioning the reason as to why you both couldn’t go out for a date. You only shook your head eager to commence.

“What matters most is that we’re both here together.” You grinned lacing your fingers with his. The both of you enjoyed the small dishes he prepared over pleasant conversations. You had asked him a billion questions about his new job which he answered with enthusiasm.

“That’s seriously amazing Sho.” You beamed “You know what? Let’s toast to it!” You chirped walking over to your small wine cupboard. You pulled out two glasses while Shouto uncorked the bottle. Once filled the both you locked gazes. “Heres to new beginnings, new chances and newfound love.” You flushed clinking your glass with his.

The both of you may have a bit too much to drink but conversation was lively and in the midst of it the both of you found yourselves going through the games Shouto had placed on the coffee table. You both laughed as you choose your next game, you were writing your truths or dare on the blocks some of them a bit more daring and honest than you would have written while sober. Maybe some liquid confidence was what the both of you needed….

Once the tower was built you drew out a dare. And your lover dared you to a silly chicken dance that left the both of you breathless in laughter. Feeling bold he too picked out a dare placing the wooden block atop the tower. He was a blushing mess as you had dared him to sing one of the most childish songs he knew. The both of you continued your game blissful smiles stretched across your lips. Honestly the both of you could be twiddling your thumbs but if it was the two of you doing it together it would have been the most amazing thing on earth.

The both of you were so whipped that maybe it was for the best that no one else had to witness that level of lovesick sweetness. Ironically you had pulled out a truth that Shouto had written. He knew exactly what you had pulled out the moment your laughter ceased and your smile dropped. ‘Why aren’t we ever intimate with each other.’ For all the love you had for each other the both of you had never had any more intimacy than a loving hug. And you figured you should tell the truth as to why you never initiated more daring contact.

“I… I uh I’m actually nervous about it.” You admitted. “You’ve been with so many other people…. What if I’m a terrible kisser or I can’t perform up to your standards... I have little to no experience on the topic… So I guess I'm just worried about messing up…”

Shouto’s eyes widened in shock. How could someone as amazing as you ever think you weren’t good enough for him. Good enough for him! Him for crying out loud?!?! It was inconceivable. “You could never mess anything up. I have not ever touched or kissed someone with any semblance of the feelings I have for you (Name). You couldn’t be anymore perfect.” He smiled. “I honestly have a hard time believing you actually want to be with me...I only wrote that down because I was scared that you might have been disgusted by the thought of being intimate with me.”

You shook your head and assured him that that wasn’t the case. At the end of the day you were intimidated by his body count. You felt ridiculously threatened by the thought that someone else could make him feel better than you. But, it was his turn to quell your worries. And that he did as he explained that sex with someone you don’t care for wouldn’t feel the same as making love with someone you do.

“Okay I get it now.” You flushed ushering him to pull out a block you melted in embarrassment. The game continued as such. Until Shouto pulled out a saucy truth. When you saw his face tint a shade darker in the red spectrum you knew what he had read.

“Do you ever think of taking our relationship to the ‘next level’” He repeated aloud making you groan and hide your face. He reached out to pulling your face up with the tips of his fingers on your chin. “All the time. You make my heart race in more ways than one and not one night goes by without me thinking of what it would be like to be inside of you and to make you mine.”

You leaned closer. “And why haven’t you done so.” You breathed.

He moved in closer his heterochromic eyes gazing at you with an intensity that made you grow warm. “You haven’t asked. You have no idea how long I’ve been holding myself back. How much I want to feel your lips against mine.” He whispered his eyes fluttering down to your lips and back to your eyes.

“Then don’t hold back.” You whispered back your noses brushing against each other.

“I don’t know (Name) I believe it’s your turn.” He mused. “I dare you to kiss me.”

“Only if you kiss back.” You replied, closing your eyes when you pressed your lips to his in your first kiss with the man. It was tender and long overdue but it was everything you were expecting; Absolutely magical. When you pulled back his hand went up to cup your cheek to pull you back in. The way your lips molded against each other felt right and just as it was getting passionate the jenga tower fell making you both pull back in fright. You gazed at each other with wide flustered expressions until you broke out in laughter.

Your fingers ghosted over your still tingling lips when you decided to ask “So who won?”

He smirked pulling you back towards him. He looked to the mess of blocks then to you again.

“Us.”

#bnha #mha #bnha secret santa #bnha writers fest #shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha imagines #todoroki fluff #todoroki shoto fluff

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theladypirate · 4 years

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all the mannerisms questions for Murk. dew it. And the first 10 for Blessing. :3c

How boy here we go, Murk is my firbolg life cleric and I fucked them up real good in their backstory

1.Meeting someone for the first time

A little shy, polite, very worried about what kind of impression they're giving. Probably quiet.

2.Around someone they want to impress

Bashful, a little clumsy bc they're overthinking things, eager to please.

3.When they’re with someone they dislike

They withdraw a bit, they're nervous and jumpy, worried about physical altercation, ready to try to leave at a moments notice. Fake smile, doesn't reach their eyes.

4.In their workplace/occupation

Efficient, precise, even confident. They're a healer, they're good at healing, it's what they know how to do and really the only thing they think they're good for.

5.Spending time with family

They were an orphan and they never got adopted but the idea of family was always... soft. In their head. People who cared about them and would have their back like they have their family's. They're starting to realize that's what the crew of the Scarlet Ibis is... and they really hope that if they're useful enough they can stay.

6.With their closest friend/s

They're somewhat playful, when they let their shields down. They like to gently tease people and they are SO supportive.

7.Around someone they’re attracted to

Very attentive, and wanting to know all about them, delighted to know every new detail, a little shy, a little hopeful, and always very aware of how the person is feeling

8.With a lover

Murk has never had a "lover" but they have had sex. Its something of a right of passage in the Grand Wharf, and they def enjoyed it but they wouldnt seek it out on their own. I think they would probably be just ridiculously soft, and probably take up poetry.

9.When they want to be left alone

Tight, pinched smile, closed off body language, looking for an out but not able to just say they needed to be alone.

10.When they feel they are in danger

Anxious, white knuckle grip on their mace, hyper aware of their surroundings. It's an unfortunately familiar feeling.

11.Something makes them insecure

Will not make eye contact, almost ashamed, absolutely believes the insecurity is justifiably a flaw.

12.Experiencing loss

Curled in on themselves, making themselves as small as possible, somewhere nobody can see them, bc being vulnerable in front of someone is dangerous

13.Proud of an achievement

A shy smile, they tug at their braid a little and fiddle with their holy symbol and blush just a bit.

14.When something pisses them off

They have a slow temper and when it reaches a boiling point it's not explosive, it's cold. They go still and focused and can be very very vicious. They would never do that to someone they cared about tho, bc they know what that kind of thing can do to someone.

15.Looking forward to something

They hum and cant hold still, and they smile and fiddle with their hair.

16.Nervous about an uncertainty

Wringing their hands, anxiety and pacing and spiralling into worst case scenarios.

17.When they’re overwhelmingly bored

Theyll organize everything over and over again, or pray, or clean. They're not good at being still.

18.Just done something embarrassing

Burying their face in their hands and hiding, possibly tearing up, running away

19.Suppressing their emotions

"Everything is fine!" Smiling and forcing cheerfulness, even as they start shaking, clenched fists to keep the shaking from being very obvious

20.When they’re running late

Scatterbrained, forgetful, stressed, running in circles and talking to themselves

21.When they’re sick

They drag themselves out of bed and make themselves eat and take medicine and slog through the day and refuse to lay down unless someone else makes them

22.Training/working out

They're dedicated and methodical, focused. They want to get it right.

23.Trying to court/seduce someone

They've never tried, actually. I think probably they would wear something sexy, then lose their nerve and put on their robe and pretend they didn't try. They aren't really in the headspace to do anything like that rn.

24.When they’re lying

They do NOT want to be lying, they wince visibly when they lie, they babble and gesture and ramble, especially when it's to someone they care about. If they don't know or care about the person they're lying to then they might be able to lie better, but they still actively dislike doing it.

25.Trying something new

Cautiously optimistic

Blessing is a tiefling monk and every time I try to get into her head it's just *Wii menu music*

1.Meeting someone for the first time

She has absolutely no concept of stranger danger, possibly bc shes 8ft tall including horns and able to yeet most things away from her thanks to her impressive muscles and complete disregard for the laws of physics.

2.Around someone they want to impress

Idk if she ever actually cares to impress anyone ever, she Does Not Care about social status and if you dont like her thats your problem.

3.When they’re with someone they dislike

She would just leave. She doesn't care. She wont spend a single second doing something she doesn't wanna. If she had no choice but to stay near them, she would probably just pretend they dont exist. They speak to her? Suddenly she cant hear. If they try to get I to her personal space she will throw them and/or stunning strike them.

4.In their workplace/occupation

Singular focus and drive, absolutely no guiding morals or principles. She was *technically* a junior apprentice alchemist, and she likes to make potions, and is even good at it! But unless you ask for a specific one, chances are whatever she makes will be effective but... questionably useful.

5.Spending time with family

She loves her family so much, shes so relaxed around them, they climb her like shes part of the environment. It's not at all unusual to find 2-3 gnome cousins or siblings hanging off her at any given time.

6.With their closest friend/s

I'm... actually not sure shes ever had friends before? Like... family, absolutely, but friends? She was sort of sheltered growing up, so I think shes still learning what it's like to have those.

7.Around someone they’re attracted to

Probably asks to spar, tries to show off a bit and probably overdoes it, absolutely just tells them she likes them with no qualms.

8.With a lover

Shes never had one, but shes not opposed to the idea.

9.When they want to be left alone

I mean.... she will just go. Shes very good about telling people what she needs. She'll just say "I need to be alone rn" and then go... do that.

10.When they feel they are in danger

I'm not even sure Blessing understands what danger even is she probably has some kind of self preservation instinct but hell if I know what it is. She wants to punch things and make potions and everything else about her is a mystery

#blessing #murk #god these are both very fun charavyers to play #in very distinctly different ways

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yessoupy · 4 years

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annual writing self-evaluation (2019)

i. Optional if applicable: link to last year’s self evaluation:

here’s the 2018 eval!

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

your skin makes me cry (the walking dead, daryl/jesus)

yellow (harry/reader)

and.... that’s it!!!! yeesh.

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Not that I have a lot of works to choose from, but I’m genuinely proud of YSMMC, my very first longfic. I put so much into that fic and actually FINISHED it. And I’ve re-read it a few times top to bottom and STILL love it. It’s probably my favorite piece of my writing ever.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I like them both, lol. But I guess I can say I wished I’d been able to write more.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

I re-read YSMMC on the plane so I could do this. This is my favorite passage, from Chapter 16 (warning: scene is explicit, and why I’m cutting the rest):

Daryl felt him, all over, from the tips of Paul’s hair slipping over his shoulder to brush against Daryl’s chest to Paul’s hand grazing up over his ribs and up his good arm to intertwine their fingers… “You feel fuckin’ amazing,” he groaned, clutching Paul’s hand.

“Shut up,” Paul hissed, hips stuttering and hand clenching tight.

Daryl swept his free hand down Paul’s side and on around to his ass, pulling him closer. “That an order?”

“That’s a ‘shut up or I’ll come before I get to fuck you like I want to.’”

“I make you feel that good?”

“Fuck. You have no idea, do you?” Paul panted, pulling out all slow and gentle, making Daryl’s toes curl and his eyes squeeze shut when he thrust back in. “Hottest thing I’ve ever seen, you lying here for me. You hear those sounds you’re making? Like you can’t help it, like what I’m doing is just what you need—”

“That’s right—” And it was, more than he’d thought it could be, a return to what he’d been denying himself, or maybe wasn’t ready to give himself, for all this time. He blinked open his eyes and Paul was right there. “You’re right,” he breathed.

“Shut up,” Paul repeated, eyes soft and full of something Daryl knew how to name.

“Shut me up,” he ordered, letting himself feel it instead of naming it, taking the moment for the rest of what it was—Paul inside him, finally, like the final piece in a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle he was afraid he’d lost pieces of. That’s right, he thought, eyes rolling back as Paul took him in hand. That’s right.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

@gaydaryl left my favorite comments on YSMMC over on AO3. I’m reposting all of them because it felt like everything i had consciously tried to do and put into daryl’s character was getting picked up and appreciated. 😍 v affirming [spoilers ahead.... lol]

on chapter 18:

this entire fic is like a warm hug and makes my entire body get the weak gay tremblies!!!! desus's dynamic is so good the entire way through and also daryl having had a husband before and it never being a point of contention and paul getting it and talking about jesse with him... god. it's so beautiful

also i've always been a sucker for "asshole but trying to be a good brother" merle characterization, and this Hit The Spot

i love this !! so much!! i can't wait to see the rest

chapter 19:

OH MY GODDDDD this was MORE than worth waiting for it's BEAUTIFUL i LOVE this fic their complete faith in each other is so good. and daryl's line about negan losin to TWO? SEXY OF HIM

chapter 20:

this fic the entire way through felt like such a breath of fresh air. having daryl be confident in his being gay, having had a long term relationship before, the absolute softness with which you wrote it all... it's so good. i loved it so much and it's one of my fave fics ever, i think, because the characterization is so utterly perfect and feels so real. thank you so much for writing it!

💜💜💜

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

That last chapter just did NOT want to get figured out. Didn’t help that I was heading into the worst mental health of my life. And then after I finished that fic in September, I ... stopped writing. I’m only just now getting to a place where I can imagine again.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

Reader, lol! Yellow came from a dream I had and the feel of it wouldn’t leave me so I had to translate it into words somehow. It only made sense to write it from that point of view, which was not one I ever thought I’d find a use for.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

From last year’s: “It’d be great to actually have the ability to write something long. I feel like the ideas I have are for short pieces.” I 100% accomplished that. I feel much more comfortable writing explicit scenes, although they still take so much more effort than basically any other isolated scene. 😩

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I want to contribute to more fandoms. I have been nudging along at a timestamp for YSMMC, I’d like to write more in-universe TWD (not canon, because Fuck Canon is my refrain for like, everything), I want to venture back into Star Wars and positively contribute there, and of course baseball!Harry. Maybe even... Prodigal Son? Who knows! the Chappy/Olson from 2018 needs a sequel.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

For the second year running, @chasm2018. My go-to beta is not as comfortable with helping to improve explicit scenes and Hannah volunteering to not only offer help with those but also the rest of the fic... invaluable! Couldn’t have done it without her. And I definitely owe her baseball!Harry.

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

Anytime you see something about a character being insecure in some way about their queerness, that’s me. an example, from your skin makes me cry:

There was a rainbow flag tacked up over his desk. Daryl had known because of what Rick had said when they were out for drinks, that Paul never tried to hide and managed to avoid any bullshit about it because he was so good at his job, but it was another thing to see those bright colors just out there for everyone to see.

“Problem?” Paul asked, a hard edge to his voice.

Daryl had been caught staring at the flag. Fuck, now Paul probably thought he was some ignorant hick homophobe. “No, ‘course not.” He cleared his throat. “Me too. Nice to have some company, ‘s all.” He wanted to punch himself, wanted to slink away out of sheer embarrassment. He hated every time he had to do this. In his head he knew that Paul wouldn’t think less of him, but he couldn’t help but think he didn’t exactly look like he belonged with all the other people who could put rainbow flags up over their desks. Only places he ever felt like he really belonged was out on his bike or in the shop. Only places he felt like he belonged anymore, anyway.

Paul didn’t say any of the worst things he could have said. Daryl had heard them all from well-meaning people who didn’t realize how all of those phrases cut him in different ways. “Oh, I could tell,” was just as bad as, “Oh, I never would have guessed,” if for different reasons. Paul just smiled and said, “Thank you for telling me.” Then they walked together the short distance down the hall to Eugene’s office where Paul told him to let him doing the talking.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Same as always: write what you want to read. And don’t be intimidated by the writing of others. :)

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I left Poe and Marek alone for ANOTHER year. I keep opening those docs and poking at them and now with the sequel trilogy done maybe I can shape them up.

#meme #writing eval #2019 writing eval #my fic #fic excerpts

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boogiewrites · 5 years

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Choking On Sapphires 67

Title & Song: More Than Words

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 5700+

Summary: Alfie shows Genevieve what good she's bringing forth in the community with her charity work when she feels overwhelmed with her Hebrew studies. He shows her the other side of being a gangster that he doesn’t flaunt. He shares about his upbringing and family with Passover on the horizon. He puts her through some of the final paces towards becoming his wife.

Warnings/Tags: FLUFF. Usual Alfie language. Talk of Alfie’s parents, sibling, upbringing. Hebrew studies.

**Chapter song is More than Words by Extreme.**

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

Alfie had been wondering about the next move to make in your relationship. Although it was easy to forget at times he wasn't actually married to you already. He mulled over the possibilities when he was alone. The when's, the where's, the how's and what he would do. He couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to use a ring or some other grand gesture of a gift. He wanted you to be his, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wait until after you became bat mitzvah, or if he should speak to a Rabbi about the whole thing. What a confusing process it was all turning out to be. He had plenty to consider and wanted to make the offering of his hand to be something he found worthy of you. Which was proving difficult.

You had been keeping your nose in books on Hebrew and Judaism, reading your new religious studies books, in your little glasses when he would come to your home late at night. He watched you learn the passages, the stack of books on your desk growing by the week. He'd come over for Shabbat and watched you light the candles, do the readings and break the Challah you'd baked yourself. He could see a change in you, and although you would behave as normal outside your home, your business dealings still having to be ruthless and cruel at times, you always left it outside your home. You were softer, kinder and watching you become something that was forbidden to you until now was a period of growth he was blessed to be able to witness.

Your growth and dedication had touched him. When he had read of your charitable doings over the span of your separation, he had taken the time to reflect on what he was currently giving. This led to a rise in his donations and allowing himself the time to be more personal with those that he knew needed his help. Friends, distant relatives, wives and children of good Jewish men he'd known, he gave more attention to. Anyone could sign a check for something, but your hands on nature with the children at the home and your teaching of art with the young women had shown him that the money wasn't enough. He should be better, he should remember where he came from.

Your commitment and hunger for knowledge had led him to sit and read with you, or to you some evenings. With Passover fast approaching he knew you were nervous. Such an important event and it being something you felt responsible for now was making you too over critical of yourself. Would you be ready for Seder? Would you have the have the right food, wine, and preparation for it all? Did you know the prayers, the blessings, the questions, and songs? You were a bundle of nerves and Alfie sat by and gruffed at you to not worry about it so much. After studying more you felt more prepared, but as it always did, you had deeper more complex worries arise as to were you doing enough? Were you kind enough? Giving enough? An onslaught of heavy questions would pour down upon you and you would try to drown them with wine and Alfie would be there to remind you that you were in fact good enough. He would remind you of Esther and how violence has its places when it protects your people. And that was what you were doing now, facing a cold modern world with all the tools you had to carve out a safe place for yourself and others. He took you to a festival for Purim and the revelry and readings helped to set our mind at ease. But soon after the calm from the festivities passed, Seder anxieties reared their heads again and Alfie had found the perfect solution.

You sit in bed together, both in your night clothes, tucked under his arm as he read to you in Hebrew, little gold glasses adorning both your faces as you tried to concentrate on the pronunciations. He was waiting for you to voice your worry about Seder, as he knew it would come. In these moments of new found intimacy between the two of you, he was reminded of his father, reading and teaching him and his siblings when they were young. He's reading mindlessly, wondering if he too would be reading and teaching children of his own one day when your mouth opens to give him his opportunity to soothe you.

"I would share the lamb with the house, but you aren't supposed to share with servants. But they aren't really servants, are they? They're paid and I know them and care for them, pay for their educations and manage their needs. They're more like friends. But I don't want to be inappropriate. It'd all have to be eaten that night and I can't waste it and-"

"Chanah." he says with a sigh, taking off his glasses. He'd taken to calling you that behind closed doors. There was something about it that warmed him when it would leave his mouth.

"Ari." you say back in the same tone. As your studies started to include him, he'd divulged to you his Hebrew name, Arioch. Which suitably meant like a lion. So naturally, you shortened it to Ari for times like these where you would appropriately be calling him a lion when he would be giving you an unhelpful tone. Although you thought the name Alfred Arioch Solomons sounded very regal and admittedly a bit sexy to you. The name suited him you thought, prideful and powerful, wild hair and a stare that would strike fear into any living thing if it wanted. He was your lion now and you wished his mum was around to tell her what foresight she'd had for her son.

"I got an answer to these worries of yours, eh?" he says with a rise of his brow, looking down to you.

"If you tell me to just calm down one more time I'll scream." you say with a flat delivery and a low brow.

"No, this is much more proactive." he grins. "How's about you spend Seder with me 'n my family?" he offers with a delicate tone.

Your eyes go a bit wide at first, darting around the room at the suggestion. "With...your family?" you ask.

"'Course." he says in a warm inflection. "It would ease ya worryin' and you could also finally meet the lot of the nutters." he grins. "I suppose it is time you met them, yeah? Seein' as I met Altar 'n all." his eyes move back down to yours.

"That would solve a good portion of my issues." you nod. "I would only have to worry about my studying then...and of course the seeking approval from your family." you mutter. "I'm not used to trying to make people like me when it's not business." you add with a lowered brow and thoughtful tone.

"No reason they won't like you." he says with a frown and a shake of his head. "At this point I could've brought anyone wif me and they'd be relieved." he adds in his course way.

"Thanks for the high praise." you huff out a laugh and smirk at him.

"You know 'at's not what I meant." he scolds and tops his glasses on the tip of your nose. "So do you accept?" he asks with a broad gesture of his hand, voice loud and demanding.

"Of course I do," you state obviously. "If we are to become more serious I believe it is a perfectly reasonable next step." you nod and settle back against his side. "And we are becoming more serious..." you say softly. "Aren't we?" you ask with a shy lilt.

"That's the daftest thing you've ever said." he grins and replaces his glasses and lets out a loud laugh. "We are deadly serious, my love." he kisses your head.

"A woman has the right to ask." you say defensively, pinching at a roll on his stomach.

"She does." he nods. "But do you think I've ever spent my evenings reading Hebrew to a woman before?" he asks looking over his glasses at you.

"That look tells me no."

"Intuitive as always, love." he says with a much kinder tone but the same smirk, putting his arm around your shoulder to hold you close. "If you need to hear of my dedication you only have to ask." he sighs out in a sweet way. "But be assured I do also speak with my actions, Chanah." he nods and pouts his lips, eyes looking over to find his place again. "I'll be sure to comfort your worries more actively if need be." he offers.

"Yes please." you say softly, snuggling up to him again.

"Then after this shall we spend our night as if we're married already? A little bit 'a practice for bein' fruitful?" he teases, his hand running down your chest to cup your breast, his thumb swiping over your nipple.

You let out a giggle, moving your hand lower on his stomach and resting it just above his pajama bottoms. "It certainly couldn't hurt." you laugh into his beard, stretching your neck to kiss his jaw, drawing a deep contented hum that is reflected in his expression with cheeks rising to hide his eyes as he continues to distract you through the rest of the reading with his thumb that seemed to have remarkable aim and ability. --------- He stood outside your classroom door. His layers of vests and jackets, your favorite sort of wide-brimmed hat atop his head as he leaned against the wall, waiting. He'd come in with the intention of interrupting you early, to give the girls a break and have you come out with him for the afternoon. But he stood and watched you through the open door to your classroom, standing out of your line of sight and he couldn't bring himself to do it. You spoke with attentiveness, your hands on your student's hands and brushes to guide and direct, you pacing and reading from books and telling of advice from great artists and how it applied to the practice and life outside the walls of the school. He could see you cared, that this wasn't only a vanity project for you. So with that same notion, he heads to the front office and sets up a donation to add to your scholarship fund anonymously.

"'Ello, love." you hears his deep voice call out as you exit your classroom, causing you to jump and whip your head around at his unexpected appearance.

"Alfie, darling, what are you doing here?" you say with a sincere question and fondness as you move the small space between you to meet with a kiss to the cheek.

"Came to see you with your girls," he says with a slow nod. "Never seen you teach before, so used to you bein' the student with me." he gives you a subtle smile.

"And am I as good of a teacher as you?" you ask with a charming smile and a tilt of your head.

"You'll get there, love." he chuckles, holding out his bent arm for you to wrap yours around. "I asked Claire about your afternoon and she says it's free, and I's wonderin' if you'd accompany me on some errands today?" he suggests as you walk down the hallway together to the door.

"You've never asked me to do such a thing before." you muse, your heels clicking slowly in pace with his shiny shoes across the tiled floor.

"I have not. But I am now innit I?" he says, nodding to people as they recognize him as they pass. "I've got some things I'd like you to see...some people I'd like ya to meet." he elaborates as he sees you through the doors.

"Then of course. I had no formal plans for this afternoon, why not?" you shrug as you move to his car.

"Wonderful, love, fanks." he says with a kiss to your head before you duck inside the car. "To the East End, Isaiah." he gives a nod to his driver. "I've been meanin' to do this for a little while now." he begins, holding his hand out to take yours. "You talkin' 'bout bein' more serious and 'n that I knew it was time for me to let you see all it is that I do." he nods and looks down to find your face attentive and intrigued. "You know me best for my violence, yeah? But 'at's not all I got goin' on, mate, no, I got a bit 'a good in the work I do too." he explains, nodding and eyes twitching at the corners as he looks out the windows. "I've been thinkin'... that if we are to be married that you need to be seein' me at all sides, love. Most people'll only talk about the so-called ill I perform but I want you to see how I try to help as much as I do hurt when it comes to my... our people." he brings his eyes back to you and adores the self-reflective nature of them. His face is in its usual creased thoughtfulness, his eyes half hidden under the shifting brow as he explains himself. "I did some soul searchin' when we's apart, right? Seein' you goin' out and bein' a public figure for charity 'n art 'n that I took it upon myself to do better by your example. After I knew we'd been seein' each other again... and in my hopefulness for a future together I arranged to set in motion some plans to be able to show ya that I would be worthy of bein' a good sort of husband for a good Jewish woman such as yourself." his words are calm and calculated and you were touched as you watched him reveal his inner workings to you. "I saw I needed to get back in touch with my roots, my people ya know." he nods. "I'd been too heavy in me business doin's and had been neglectin' the things that got me to where I am today. I wanted to show I wasn't above anyone else, as I'm not, and upon further reflection, as I wanted to be betta for you, I wanted to be betta for that little boy I once was." he moves to take your hand between both of his and you follow suit. "You learnin' and becomin' what you always shoulda been opened me up in a way I hadn't been willin' to do since I was a lad. And thinkin' about me past, the schoolin' and family I thought 'bout what I might want for myself one day... or if I wanted it 'at all. And I do. Now I do. But I see that to be what a child needs in a father, I myself, needed to be better than I's bein'. Hold myself to a higher standard than I used to, yeah?" his nose wrinkles as his eyes continue to move about, but your stay fixated on his face. "If I were to be with a Jewish woman, which wasn't sumfin' I was plannin' on doin' until I's wif you, right? Then our children would need a good Jewish father. Someone who knew what the fuck he was on about and as much of a fuckin' hypocrite as I am and 'spose I always will be, I knew I at least needed to try." he returns his eyes to you. "So... as fuckin' long-winded as I've gone and made myself here I wanted to share 'a bit of meself with you so you'd know what sorta man I came from... what sorta man I might be inclined to be if we were to have little ones, right?"

"I've wanted to know for some time, admittedly, but I wasn't going to push you to tell me."

"Well it's ya lucky day innit, love?" he gives you a charming smile, thumb rubbing across your hands. "We'll start with me father then. Bernard. Me mum did call 'im Bernie in private but he fuckin' hated it." he lets out a chuckle. "Bernard Dov, although he tried to get the name Berel to stick with mum, she tried to sound more English and preferred somethin' that sounded sweet and small as she said. But he was neither sweet nor small."

"Perhaps it was meant to be ironic? A cheeky little joke or something?"

"Mum was funny that way." he smiles warmly. "Father passed shortly after I became a man and I 'spose that was a big thing that fueled my studies, as he never let us forget the importance of knowledge and it's pursuit. He was a stern man. But fair, always fair." he nods. "He held me 'n my siblings to a high standard. Especially the boys. So I did well in me studies, both at home in school. I always had a knack for learnin' it seemed. Was told I was clever, if not a bit up me own arse about it at times." he laughs. "I got high marks and I was proud. Same as always heavy handed in my own way about fings. I'd try to set the other boys straight ya see. Tellin' 'em...what sort 'a man ya gonna be if ya don't try to be just that now? Ya can't live like ya do and be of any worth to anyone later. Ya stuntin' ya own potential." he grins, his eyes far away in the past. "I couldn't understand how they weren't more concerned about bein' good men. Men of faith and fortune built from workin' hard and usin' their minds to earn their gold. That was all me father talkin' that was." he sighs. "And me mum." his face softens. "Peninah." he smiles. "You'd think me father would've been inclined to give her a nickname, Pearl or Penny or such...but he wasn't much for informalness." he grins. "She was strong but always sweet with her children. Father was the law and she was the peacekeeper. She expected more out of us just like he did, she never coddled, but whereas father was cold in his approach, she was warm. She passed after goin' back to Russia, you see. When the fuckers were pushin' us all out she went back for her sisters. They all made it back... but she didn't live long after that. Told me stories of bein' chased by the Russians through the snow. Havin' to hide in that sort 'a climate and she got sick from it." he voice trails off slightly.

"I see where you get your bravery from." you give his hands a supportive squeeze, bring his glazed over eyes back to the present, the anger still simmering under the surface.

"She was very brave, yeah." he nods and sighs. "Always spoke of the importance of family. And speakin' of, you'll be meetin' me sisters soon won't ya?" he pats your hand. "Rachel, Matilda and Sarah. The bellends." he laughs. "Nah, they're good women. Been ridin' my arse since my bar mitzvah to get me a wife. But they are women and two older than me, so I suppose it was all to be expected, eh?" his laughs weakens to a chuckle. "You'll be meetin' me brother Jeremiah's wife, Pippa. He died in the war, though. But I believe I told you that."

"You did." you nod and give him a weak smile. He didn't seem distraught about it, but it made you sad.

"And my heard of nieces and nephews. Got what's left of me mum's brothers and sisters and me dad's brothers. Whole family a men they are."

"All of them?" you say with a huff of laughter.

"Yeah, there were so many of 'em, his mum, who died before I was before kept havin' children in hopes of havin' a girl. But it never came to pass." he shakes his head. "Seven boys instead." he chuckles.

"Poor woman." you share the same amused laugh with him.

"That so?" he tilts his head and looks back to you. "Do you want a little girl, love?" he asks and your stomach flutters at the ease that you both speak about marriage and children with now.

"Of course I would. I'm certainly not opposed to a boy by any means. It would just be nice to have the experience of raising both I think." you shrug. "Plus I am a girl and a feminine one at that so having a little doll of my own does sound appealing," you admit and lay your head on his shoulder. "What about you?"

"Either would be nice, yeah? Long as the poor things get their looks from you." he grins.

"I wouldn't be making babies with an ugly man, darling." you laugh and reach up to give him chin a scratch and kiss to his cheek.

------- You pull up to a block of housing. It reminds you of small heath in it's sad and drab exterior. Dark, dirty and desolate looking as Alfie takes your hands and leads you through the archway. You see numerous children playing, running around through lines of drying clothes, mothers in aprons shouting after them. You don't expect them to all greet Alfie with such fondness, but they do. They know him by name, a polite, Mr. Solomons at his arrival as he hands them sweets from his pockets and ruffles their hair. They look at you suspiciously, not having seen you before, and you don't blame them. He leads you up the tarnished metal stairs to an inconspicuous door.

He knocks and very quickly a woman opens the door. "Oh, shalom, Mr. Solomons." the worn looking woman smiles warmly and greets him with a smile.

"I've told you many times, Mable to call me Alfie. Now is Alice about?" he says loudly, a gentle command.

"She's in her room, let me go fetch her." she rushes out before shuffling off.

"Who is Alice?" you whisper.

"Someone I wanted you to meet," he says with a nod. "Ah! Hello love!" he says warmly, reaching out to take the young girls hand that is outstretched, her other is holding onto a harness that rests around a dog. It becomes apparent to you quickly she is one of the beneficiaries of the charity you were on the board with with Alfie.

"Hello, Mr. Solomons." her voice is sweet and delicate.

"You ladies and your politeness. I told ya mum to call me Alfie as well. But ya just won't listen." he says warmly, patting the back of her hand. "How is little diamond doing now? Bein' a good girl?"

"She's been such a relief." she says with downcast, milky eyes. "And she also keeps me very warm at night." she smiles.

"I had someone I wanted you to meet little one," he says, holding his hand out to you to beckon you closer. "This is Genevieve Durand. She's the one what helped you get Diamond there." he says, placing your hand in hers.

"Pleasure to meet you Alice." you say looking over the kind and pretty girls face.

"You work at the charity with Mister- with Alfie?"

"I do." you nod and her mother comes and places her hand on your arm.

"We'd like to thank you for your help Miss Durand. Alice here has been waiting for assistance for some time now. Alfie had told me there had been an influx in donations recently and because of that they were able to giver her Diamond, as they were primarily givin' dogs to the boys after the war who needed them." she explains and you try to keep your face warm and not shocked or sad as you felt. You hadn't known about this girl, or how long the wait on the list was and you were deeply touched by the thoughtfulness of Alfie to bring you to see your work for yourself.

"I'm just happy Alice here could get some assistance." you say sincerely.

"Diamond has been such a lifesaver for me. She suffers from seizures you see, and Diamond here can let someone know if she needs help by barking if she's alone. The neighbors help me out when I can't be here for work, keeping an eye out for her, but now everyone's much more at ease." she says reaching out to pat the dogs head.

"Mable here has been able to find work for the first time since Jack passed, isn't that right?" Alfie offers with a strong nod.

"Yes it's been such a help to get some money coming back in, believe me." she nods enthusiastically.

"Jack was a member of my company you see, in the war. He used to tell me about Mable and Alice. So when I saw the name on the list, I happened to reach out to them and I've been workin' for a long time to get them Diamond here." he explains.

"Alfie's been a lifesaver, truly. Couldn't have made it without him." she says patting his cheek. Such a soft gesture from a man who was known to be a criminal made your heart warm.

"Least I could do. Jack was a good man." he says more sternly. "Speakin' of, I've got something to show you. Would you love?" he asks, motioning his hand out to the other room.

They leave you and Alice and you pat Diamonds head. "I've heard your name in the paper." Alice breaks the silence.

"Oh have you? Nothing bad I hope." you softly laugh.

"You paint, right?"

"I do. Are you a fan of the arts? Music and the like?" you clarify, not wanting to sound daft.

"I do adore music. My mum took me to the theater once. I loved it." she smiles.

"Have you ever been to the opera Alice?" you ask, moving your head to look at Alfie in the other room with her mother. He hands her an envelope, and she refuses at first, but with his insistence she takes it. You're seeing he'd been helping support them while she had had to stay home with Alice.

"Oh, no. I wish." she chuckles. "Far too posh for me." she shakes her head and Alfie walks back into the room with her mother.

"Would you like to go? Or do you have a distaste for the style?"

"It'd be wonderful to go. It's just always been so expensive." she says sheepishly.

"Would you like to go with me?" you ask, watching her face go through a slew of emotions.

"Really?" she asks quietly.

"Of course! You can feel the music when you're by the pit. Your mum could come to. Alfie doesn't like the opera...I'd love to have some girls to go with." you say cheerfully.

Her mum walks up with a bowed head. "It sounds lovely and thank you Genevieve, but I'm afraid we'd be a bit under dressed." she gives you a sad smile.

You see the sinking in Alice's face and you won't stand for it. "Don't' be silly, I can get you something." you wave your hand dismissively. "How's about you two come to my house sometime soon and we can find you some gowns of mine? We're all three not too far off in size, certainly nothing a few alterations can't handle." you insist.

"Genevieve does have far too many dresses. Do me a service and take some off her hands would you?" Alfie laughs.

"Would you like to go Alice?" her mother asks her.

"Yes." she nods enthusiastically.

"Then it's settled," you say clasping your hands together. "I'll get back up with you through Alfie's people and we'll set something up soon."

"Thank you Miss Durand." Alice says with a shaky voice.

"Call me Genevieve... or Gen, whichever you'd prefer, really. If we're going to go out and have some fun, we can't be so formal can we?" reach out and hold her hand. "We'll have a lovely time, Alice." you say sincerely.

"Thank you, Miss-" you give a playful frown to her mum.

"Genevieve. I'm sure Alice is just a bit tongue-tied from surprise." she laughs and moves to hug her from the side. "First time she'll be going to such a grand thing."

"It won't be the last." you smile. "All girls deserve a good night out from time to time don't we?"

"Ya do, love, ya do." Alfie says, his hand sliding across your upper back. "I'm sorry to cut it short but we've got another appointment to keep so if you don't mind... Mable, Miss Alice. We'll be seein' ya." he gives a nod and you see yourselves out.

"Why didn't you tell me about her before we went in?" you ask him as you follow him down the stairs back to the car.

"I wanted to see your raw reaction." he states simply and honestly. Today was a bit of test of sorts, and he knew you'd pass, but your warm acceptance of the girl and her mother had made him all the more certain of you being fit to be his wife. He needed a woman who could charm people in such a way.

"I didn't know about the waiting list." you say a frown.

"Well, it's for the senior members. They deal with that sort of thing." he explains gruffly.

"Are there others like them Alfie?" you ask him once you get into the car.

"What you mean?"

"Other you take care of? I saw you give her money."

"There are a few yeah." he says looking out the window.

"Families of men you oversaw?" you inquire.

"Not all no. Most not." he shakes his head. "Just Jewish families that haven't been as lucky as me." he says with a sense of sadness to his tone. "Sick little ones... widows... families of men that worked for me that sacrificed for me in some form or 'nother I like to keep an eye on. Don't give 'em all money, y'know. Some just need a wee bit of food or medicine from time to time." he looks back over to you and you sigh heavily and take his hand into yours.

"All this time you spoke of my capacity for kindness and violence. What of you darling?"

"What of it?" he shrugs. "I'm only doin' what I should. You take care of your people, they take care 'a you. Like you and your girls at home. You 'n your kids at the home and the schoolgirls. Same sort of thing, love." he says cooly, looking down at your adoring eyes.

"You have a personal touch I do not. A connection to the community I've been cut off from that I envy."

"And now you know two women you didn't yesterday dunnit ya? See.. you'll get connected. Ya just used to connectin' with folk what don't require help."

"That is true." you nod. "I guess I do have connections. Just not in the same class as you do." you say thoughtfully. You see a chance here for the both of you. You can handle the upper classes, he can handle the lower. With connections made on every level of the community, when you two did marry, you would have a reach that most people couldn't dream of. Feet on the ground to do work for you, people in ivory towers to persuade to make decisions in your favor. You could have a foot in both worlds.

"Exactly love." he agrees with a slow blink. "But the point I wanted to make with little Alice, was to show you where your charity was goin'. I wanted you to see it in action." he clarifies.

"Thank you," you say, leaning your head onto his arm. "It's something I needed." you add softly. You could get so caught up in the high stakes world you both lived in that you could forget what good was possible out of the bad that you did. Charity was important to your faith and being able to see it work, beyond writing something down and having Claire donate it showed you the people behind what you were working on building with Alfie.

"You always say you aren't doin' enough. I figure it's 'cause you don't see it up close and personal. Thought it might help ya."

"It did, thank you, really, darling, it was very thoughtful of you."

"So was invitin' them out." he says with a smile, arms around your shoulders and kissing your head.

"Least I could do. All girls deserve a bit of fun now and again. Especially a woman that works so hard like Mable and a sweet young thing like Alice. It's nothing for me to show such kindness to them."

"I can only be thankful for such a woman to come into my life as you, Chanah." he says close to your ear, the gentle tone catching you off guard.

"What brings on this sweet tongue of yours?" you ask, giving his beard an affectionate tug.

"You love, it's always you that makes me this way innit?" he smiles and leans in to give you a chaste kiss. "You are such a compliment to my weaknesses I couldn't imagine goin' 'bout my life of dual nature without you now." he gently holds your chin up to him. "Only your soft heart could be the one to withstand wearing away at my hardened one." he says softly. "I didn't ever think I'd be able to regain the will to want or expect better from myself when it comes to things outside of business. Not until you came along."

"It is not good for man to be alone." you say sweetly, reciting from Genisis.

He sighs and kisses you again. "One who has found a wife has found goodness and has brought forth favor from God." he whispers.

"Solomon from Solomons." you giggle against his lips and a slow, deep chuck bubbles out of him. "And with all this talk you fluster me, Ari." you say more playfully. "It seems you forget we are not in fact married yet. When is it you intend to reunite our souls?" you gently bump your nose against his.

"I want the occasion to as perfect as you are, pet. And I humbly ask of you to give me time to orchestrate the impossible." he grins and kisses you again.

"If anyone could do the impossible, I believe it would be you." you coo at him.

"And that faith in me is why I can even entertain the thought of it at all."

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @wtf-is-wrong-with-this @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @sxlomons @aphnxrising @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @anrm1@ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes

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realyoungdarius · 3 years

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2.1 Assignment: Something Different is Needed

Getting Started

After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!”

Revelation 7:9–10

Have you ever wondered what heaven will be like? There are a number of descriptions given to us in the Bible. One depiction specifically stands out among the several that exist. In the above passage of Scripture, the disciple named John describes a countless multitude of people who are immensely diverse according to their nationality, tribal affiliation, uniqueness of creation, and language spoken. In fact, the list of diverse characteristics in the Bible verse is thought to not be an exhaustive list but one that is infinite in nature.

Upon successful completion of the course material, you will be able to:

Integrate the concepts of diversity with an understanding of those same or similar concepts of a Christian worldview.

Resources

Bible: Eastern Standard Version

File: The DeVoe Report Fall/Winter 2017

File: The DeVoe Report Spring/Summer 2017

Website: Bible Gateway

Reference

U.S. Equal Opportunity Commission. (n.d.). Prohibited employment policies/practices. Retrieved from https://www.eeoc.gov/laws/practices/index.cfm

Background Information

The U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (n.d.) states,

Under the laws enforced by EEOC, it is illegal to discriminate against someone (applicant or employee) because of that person's race, color, religion, sex (including gender identity, sexual orientation, and pregnancy), national origin, age (40 or older), disability or genetic information. It is also illegal to retaliate against a person because he or she complained about discrimination, filed a charge of discrimination, or participated in an employment discrimination investigation or lawsuit.

The law forbids discrimination in every aspect of employment.

The issue of discrimination has been an issue that human resources management have wrestled with in the workplace for a very long time. The article reading selected for this workshop sheds light on the fact that there are differing views for how to address workplace discriminatory practices—especially those illegal or unethical practices among management and executive leaders of the organization. Read the article and consider your own workplace or one that you are familiar with. Has the organization attempted to use any one of the suggested solutions found in the article? None of them? Or a different solution altogether? And if a solution was attempted, has it been successful?

Instructions

Review the rubric to make sure you understand the criteria for earning your grade.

Make sure you have carefully reviewed the Getting Started and Background Information sections of this page.

Review the following Scriptures from the Bible Gateway website:

How do these Scriptures inform your understanding in regards to the following questions and the complex realities of today’s workplaces:

Access The DeVoe Report Spring/Summer 2017 edition.

Access The DeVoe Report Fall/Winter 2017 edition.

Write a paragraph of 50-100 words for each of the following four questions based on the Workshop Two reading:

Prior to submitting your journal entry, review for correct spelling, word choice, punctuation, and grammar.

Submit your journal entry by using the Assignment submission page the final day of the workshop.

Review the following Scriptures from the Bible Gateway website:

Revelation 4:11

Revelation 4:11 Holman Christian Standard Bible

11 Our Lord and God,[a] You are worthy to receive glory and honor and power, because You have created all things, and because of Your will they exist and were created.

John 3:16

John 3:16 Holman Christian Standard Bible

16 “For God loved the world in this way:[a] He gave His One and Only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.”

Galatians 3:28

Galatians 3:28 Holman Christian Standard Bible

28 There is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

1 Samuel 16:7b

1 Samuel 16:7 Holman Christian Standard Bible

7 But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look at his appearance or his stature, because I have rejected him. Man does not see what the Lord sees,[a] for man sees what is visible,[b] but the Lord sees the heart.”

Matthew 6:10

Matthew 6:10 Holman Christian Standard Bible

10 Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Write a paragraph of 50-100 words for each of the following four questions based on the Workshop Two reading:

If heaven is a place of inclusion and diversity, shouldn’t our workplaces similarly be such a place of diverse peoples?

I believe, similarly to many Libertarians, that it can be Constitutional, as well as ethical, for many groups to exclude people of different Constitutionally protected groups, when it involves the thoughts and feelings that they want to have remain private, except among the group they trust. I am a part of a fraternity! Should we let women in, when we are supposed to protect people who are in our fraternity and our sex? I believe that women should have a place to consider their private thoughts and feelings, with people who are their sex and a part of their group! What’s wrong with a fraternity doing the same thing? We’d let in people with different genders...

Or, is our earthly domain to be so different from our heavenly domain?

I believe that there can be heaven and hell on Earth! People can even have their own personal hell and/or heaven; even if they are considered to not be a part of other people’s hell and/or heaven. For instance, everyone can be beautiful. However, someone who is hot to many people, may not be sexy to everyone!

Read the article “Something Different is Needed: Influencing Managers to Avoid Discriminatory Practices” beginning on page 24, which provides a holistic solution to address the problem of diversity.

Review the article “Growing a Literary Executive” beginning on page 68, which provides the encouragement for you to become a literary executive.

From “Growing a Literary Executive”:

“Read voraciously; this is not a place where moderation is a virtue, rather view it as a feast of ideas and you’ll profit significantly.”

“You will sharpen the perspectives that shape your engagement with the world; you will find yourself being more intentional in revealing and creating experiences that demonstrate the reality that His Kingdom has come, and finally; you will experience greater joy as you rest in the confidence of the coming consummation of all things.”

From “Something Different is Needed: Influencing Managers to Avoid Discriminatory Practices”:

“it is that inner disposition of the heart which influences our outer behavior, actions, reactions, choices, decisions and words” (Proverbs 4:23; Matthew 12:35; 15:19; Galations 5:22-23, Luke 6:45; “Gateway Biblical Counseling,” n.d., para. 4).

What did you learn?

What I have to recognize about my own issues and/or problems with the way my mind, and especially my mind, tends to work, is that I have to fight off the bad thoughts and feelings I have.

How did you discover that?

I found this out after making mistakes I shouldn’t mention. Those issues and/or problems are mostly in my past. Now, I just have to deal with my thoughts and feelings, when they become bad and/or something that is not ethical. I usually try to either let those thoughts and/or feelings roll off my sleeve or I fight them off with thoughts and feelings I’ve learned can counteract those bad and/or unethical thoughts and feelings.

Why is that important?

If I didn’t do that, I would be acting out in ways that would lead me to ending up dead or in jail. I have to keep myself from being investigative, like I tend to like doing, sometimes. I’m also, mostly, a conceptualizer and optimizer; instead of an implementer and generator.

And, so what? (That is, what are the implications of the learning for practical living?)

Everyone is different. So, I can’t assume that everyone will do things the same way. It’s especially true that people tend to focus on their strengths, while attempting to mitigate their short-comings are. Doing those things helps people to sharpen the saw.

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kittenfemme27 · 3 years

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The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires

I don’t know about you, reader, but it’s been actual years since I was able to properly sit down and finish a book. My last one was Lovecraft Country in 2018, and many, many years before that. Reading used to be a big passion of mine, I loved to get lost in the worlds. I loved the movie that played out in my head as I read, as if it was projecting itself into my mind more-so than i was actually reading the words themselves. For a kid who didn’t always grow up with the internet or video games available, Books from my local library were a great escape.

So, having found myself getting more and more into horror around 2019 in all forms of media I consumed, I was more than happy to bookmark a tweet from a horror artist I follow on Twitter who had a list of all the horror books he’d read that year. This would be my chance to get back into reading, finally!

Cue.. 2 years later, and I’ve finally started on that list. The top of that list, “The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires“, was something I found immediately intriguing from the title and cover alone. I’m now regretting that decision so much that I’m not sure I’ll bother with the rest of the list.

(CW: R*pe, Gore, Racism)

“The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires” is an awful book. The only compliment I feel I could accurately give it is that it’s not written incompetently enough, from a purely technical standpoint, as to be unreadable.

The story stars Patricia Campbell, a housewife in the 1980′s-1990′s that is more apology than character, and her rag-tag group of similarly middle-aged, middle-income southern white wine sipping housewives who do, and I cannot stress this enough, almost nothing but test each other’s and the readers patience for nigh on 310 out of 357 pages. They bicker, they fight, they treat Patricia as crazy when she repeatedly shows them evidence that children around them are dying, and most of all they refuse to do absolutely anything, leaning more into pure disbelief until the problem has literally violated one of them. The book club women don’t lead interesting lives, either. They’ve got husbands who are not in love with them, children who hate them, and friendships with each other that can be broken by what feels tantamount to bringing the wrong wine to a meeting. Throughout the story, Patricia is accosted by the resident Vampire-like creature, more akin to a human mosquito than any sort of real “Vampire”, that moves in after his aunt dies. A man named James Harris. He smoothly worms his way into everyone’s lives in the charismatic way a vampire does and convinces everyone that Patricia is more or less insane for ever suspecting him of being a vampire after she watches him feed on a child. This leads to her attempting suicide after being pushed into a corner by her doctor husband who seems to have been ripped straight from the 1950′s and thinks women should be Seen and not Heard. She gives up and more or less goes comatose as a character for roughly 3 years until finally she snaps to her senses after seeing a ghost of her dead mother in law who knew the Vampire when she was a small child, who leads her to one of the bodies he’s got stored in his attic, and convinces everyone else in her book club, who has routine abandoned her at this point, to help her kill James. They do, chopping his body to bits while it taunts them and then throwing the bits into a fire. Patricia divorces her husband at the end and somehow that makes her children lover her, happy-ever-after ending.

That’s the rough synopsis, but it doesn’t really do the grossness of this book any justice. That first child James kills, is a black 9 year old named Destiny who later kills herself as it’s revealed that the Vampire-like creature’s bites feel so good and so sexually pleasurable, that if you are deprived of them after becoming addicted you’re likely to just commit suicide. This is AFTER she’s taken away from her mother by child services because they assume the bite marks are syringe injection marks and that her mother must be a druggie. She’s not the first black child to die this way either. In-fact, by the time Patricia becomes wise to James’ ways, she’s the third. They’re all from a poor black neighborhood that is literally described as shady, dangerous, and being full of “Super Predators” called Six-Mile, which is the de-facto feeding ground of the Vampire for a good 75% of the book, as well as the home of the literally only surviving named black character, Ursula Greene, who herself is nothing more than a “wise old negro” trope along with being a maid to these rich white people who think of her as trash. This is probably the biggest overarching problem in the book. It tries, in the authors words, to explore the relationships between the white, rich women who brag about how their cul-de-sac is so safe and pure that nobody even locks their door, and the poor black characters from Six-Mile. The book thinks its clever, because Mrs. Green constantly points out that the white characters let the black children die callously so that their white children would live, to which they can only reply about how guilty that makes them feel and how they’re sorry. I’m not sure what the author hoped to accomplish by pointing out the institutional racism of the 90′s, but whatever he hoped to accomplish, it fail flat on its face in the most racist way it could.

I wish that was where gross things ended for this book, but its not. At one point, the Vampire-like creature rapes one of the book club members and she is more or less outright stated to be pregnant with a monster from that rape and it is also revealed that the rape gave her an “Auto-Immune Disease” that the characters husband immediately likens to AIDS and that is very quickly killing her. This information causes her to choose to have her body cremated so nothing can spring forth from her corpse when she dies. The implications this has are frankly appalling. The books decision on whether or not a woman who gets pregnant from rape is worthy of life is to resolutely and proudly say no and treat that as if its a feminist answer. That if you’re raped, it’s akin to something like AIDS and life simply isn’t worth living. it’s one of the grossest things I’ve read in a long time.

It’s not even the only shock value the book uses to make it’s events feel real and scary, others include Patricia’s son “Blue” being obsessed with Nazi’s, for genuinely seemingly no reason. He just brings them up to make you, and everyone in the story, uncomfortable. There are constant overwrought descriptions of gore or simply gross scenarios, such as an indepth description of Patricia’s ear-lobe being ripped off, or rats gnawing the flesh off on a old woman, or a cockroach crawling inside someones ear. There is also the repeated child murder or child suicide, which doesn’t really serve a purpose other than to shock the middle-aged mothers this book was meant for, with multiple sentences in which Patricia thinks about how much it would hurt if that were her children, inviting the reader to do the same with their own.

And we couldn’t forget that this book is just unrepentant in its horniness. It’s outright stated that being fed on is the most sexually pleasurable thing one can feel, which makes it all the more awkward when you consider that the Vampire’s first set of victims are children, later Patricia’s teenage daughter who she walks in on in the middle of being fed and who she has to stop from literally masturbating in that moment while attempting to punch the Vampire off of that same teenage daughter. But, of course, it doesn’t end there. It’s a book about almost entirely women written by a Cis Male Author, which means there are constant depiction of female bodies in the nude or in violence. It’s no “She boobed boobily”, thankfully, but it’s not much better than that. Describing pubic hair, breast shape, and even making it so that the Vampire-like creature drinks from a penis-esque proboscis that extends from it’s throat and right into the upper thigh of it’s victim, which is mentioned twice to be right next to the vagina. It even goes so far as to try and sexualize its own rape, aswell as having Patricia tell the rape victim how good it feels with this section between the two. Something I’m including here in its entirety because no amount of words I can write describes how gross this passage is, in context.

“Grace already... told me,” Slick said, opening her eyes, pulling her mask away from her face to speak. “I made her... give me all the details.”

“Me too,” Patricia said. “I was out from what he did to me.”

“How did... it feel?” Slick asked.

Patricia would never have said this to anyone but Slick. She leaned forward.

“It felt so good,” she breathed, the immediately remembered what he’d done to Slick and felt selfish and insensitive.

“Most sin does,” Slick said.

I think the thing that angers me the most about this book is that it’s tricked a lot of people who read it into thinking its a fun, feminist read. All of the main characters are overworked mothers who struggle with being that overworked, and then come out on top anyway because of their motherly intuition and love for their kids. It’s the kind of book that a single struggling mother would read and think “Yeah, I’d do that, that’d be me! I’d save the day!” and it makes them feel good about themselves, and about being a mother, and about how hard it is to make the kids lunches and clean the husbands dirty underwear and make sure the house is clean and dinner is on the table by 6 PM all while looking hashtag fabulous and like a girlboss. A quick trawl through any review site will show roughly the exact type of single mothers this book is written for giving it 5 stars and calling it hilarious and empowering. And y’know, I don’t have a problem inherently with prose written for that demographic. But this book gets away with a ton of racism, sexism, and outright disgusting content by hiding itself under that veneer and I think that’s just awful. It should be held to scrutiny for what it is, for how bad it is, and it clearly never was.

Don’t read this book. It sucks. It sucks so fucking much. I want my night I spent reading it back.

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esselley · 7 years

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Kinktober #14: Role Reversal

Set early on in Kingdom of Crows verse! This is about 0.02% sexy, and idk what the rest is besides dramatic scene setting/Kageyama being extremely in love

They called it “The City”, sometimes.

It was in jest; because it was anything but. The underground maze of tunnels, sewers, and dungeon-like halls beneath Corvus had no infrastructure, no rhyme or reason to the wretchedness.

The Kingdom of Crows thrived upon madness, breathed life into chaos.

Amidst the rabble, Kageyama felt like he could finally make sense of things again. He pulled his hood further over his head, hiding his face in shadows. Suspicious, perhaps, but the more suspicious he appeared down below the surface, the less people would question him. Everyone minded their own business, as long as he minded his own. No one cared about a lanky boy in patched clothes wandering about, when there were so many others just like him at every turn. No one might guess who he truly was.

He wasn’t afraid, down there, despite the dank, unsavory nature of that world. He could more than handle himself in a fight, if anyone had disliked his look enough to start one. Sometimes fights were the fastest way to a friendship, depending on the opponent; and Kageyama, over the years, had made quite a few friends that way. Any of them just might happen to be passing by, to come to his aid if things got messy. The City was funny like that; so many eyes in so many places, and never a clear picture of who was watching who. Like circling scavenge birds, always waiting for an opportunistic moment.

And in dire circumstances, he had one singular friend on whom he could always rely. He liked to fight his own battles, but he knew that even a lion could be defeated by a million stinging ants. So around his neck, he wore a thick signet ring, dangling from the end of a cord. One glimpse of it would send anyone who valued their lives fleeing. They would all know the symbol engraved in the gold—a crown, with the sun carved behind it. It had been a symbol of rebellion, first, and then of hope. The crest of the newly crowned king of thieves.

It was nearly the same design as was stamped on the ring tucked safely away in a chest under Kageyama’s bed. This ring marked Kageyama himself as the crown prince of Corvus, future king—but his was devoid of the sun. That had been a new addition, made by the new thief king; a reminder.

He was as much a king as Kageyama would one day be. But he and his people longed for the light.

Deeper into the maze, Kageyama arrived at a door, wooden and unmarked. He rapped on it, and a small section near the top slid back. Inside was darkness. A guttural voice croaked out of it, “No room for beggars here.”

Kageyama pulled the ring from under his shirt, holding it up in front of the peephole. He knew the password would change every day, but he had his token for passage. Shortly thereafter, the door creaked open, and he slipped inside.

It was pitch black. He heard the sound of the door being deadbolted and shut behind him and waited, unsure of who the guardsman might be. Then someone spoke right in his ear, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“No need for princes, either.”

He knew that voice, now it was undisguised. He turned in the dark as arms embraced him, as hands were laid warm upon his face, and then, even more welcome, a most familiar mouth pressed to his own. The lips were rough on his, and already smiling.

“I can just leave, if you’d prefer,” Kageyama mumbled against them. He caught a glimpse of a golden glimmer in the darkness—eyes, lit from within, looking up at him.

Hinata slid a hand to grip the back of his neck tighter, possessively. Kageyama knew Hinata could see him quite clearly in the dark, a boon of his fae blood. It had made him a good thief and a better spy.

“You know perfectly well what I meant.”

“Mmm.” It meant that here was the one place, where Kageyama didn’t have to play the part of a prince.

“Thought you still might not be able to come,” Hinata said, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw.

He wasn’t normally this soft, and Kageyama held completely still out of habit, afraid to startle him—afraid it would stop. In actuality, it had been years since Hinata had bothered to hide the way he felt, but it was still rare for him to allow either of them such a long moment of vulnerability. Maybe it was the dark, or maybe it was going so long without seeing each other.

Two months ago, the long fight for control of the Kingdom of Crows had finally come to an end, and Hinata had been named its new king. Kageyama had been there that night, but the chaos caused by the upheaval would have ripple effects felt even in the royal city, and so, to be on the safe side, they had said goodbye. Neither of them knew how long he might have to stay away, how long security might be increased and the prince could not be found missing, for fear of raising the alarm.

But then, a fortnight ago, a crow had landed on Kageyama’s windowsill, and a glint of gold had caught his eye. Tied around its leg was the signet ring and a messily scrawled map with a golden X to mark where Hinata could be found.

As soon as he could, Kageyama had snuck out, to go underground, to reach the X, to come back to the pickpocket boy who had become a king.

“You missed me, did you?” Kageyama said, aware he was pushing his luck. “Sending an official summons.”

Instead of growing annoyed, Hinata suddenly kissed him fiercely. “You belong with me,” he said, so fervently it cut Kageyama’s breath short. “If I am king then I would have you by my side.”

Kageyama gulped at air. He had no idea how to respond to this brash honesty. Growing up, he had learned that it was a monarch’s right, to call upon those subjects who were dearest to them. And it was an honor to be called, as his father had impressed upon him so many times, when he’d forced Kageyama to stand with him, to show the people to whom they must bow. It hadn’t felt like an honor, then. But it did now.

“I—I’m here,” he finally said.

“You came when I called,” Hinata emphasized, sounding entirely too pleased. Kageyama knocked their foreheads together, a little harder than was necessary. “Come on—you’re just in time for dinner.”

Kageyama felt at first a slight reluctance, at leaving the dark behind, where all he had to focus on was Hinata’s touch. But the feeling was soon replaced by amazement, as Hinata led him from the long tunnel out into the light.

He blinked, adjusting to the change, as Hinata strode on before him—back straight, head held high. He was not tall, by any means, but he’d always taken up space. It had been too long since they’d seen one another, Kageyama thought, stalled for a moment as he looked fondly upon the flame-red hair, the still slightly narrow shoulders. Two children ran forward upon their entrance, and Hinata stopped, lowering himself to one knee. They put his gold crown on his head, and his cloak on his back—black and torn, like crow feathers.

Kageyama saw suddenly, like a vision, an impression of the man Hinata would grow into. It seemed right, that Hinata should wear a crown, now, and in the future.

They had emerged into a cavernous space, the high ceiling home to an uncountable number of mismatched chandeliers hanging from the rafters; iron, wood, glass—hundreds, maybe thousands of flickering lights between all of them. Some of the flames were mage fire, dancing in all different colors. It made the huge room warm and comfortable, which Kageyama thought might have been intentional, given the people gathered there.

“Hinata…” Kageyama murmured under his breath, “you realize the Tanaka siblings are sitting at your dinner table…”

Hinata flashed him an over the shoulder grin. “They showed up just last week, actually. She said she might like to see what the change in leadership might bring.”

The Tanakas were two of the most feared assassins in the lower kingdom. It was said that they never turned away a client, and anyone could afford them, rich or poor—but might not always like the price they would have to pay. Nonetheless, they’d been instrumental as a part of Hinata’s coup to take the crown, not as killers, but as information brokers. They had more dealings with the brother, who Kageyama had realized possessed a kinder heart than it might be wise to let others find out about. The sister was ruthless, and preferred to observe the outcome from afar, but was protective of her brother to a fault.

Not three seating places down from them, the fire mage Taketora had his feet kicked up onto the table. He seemed to be engaged in a staring match with the younger Tanaka, smoke curling off his shoulders and the top of his head in his agitation. Kageyama felt a slight sense of apprehension—none of them were sure, but there were rumors Taketora was part fire elemental. His temper was legendarily explosive, and paired with Ryuu’s, Kageyama couldn’t imagine it would be long before a fight erupted.

But Hinata only looked amused. “They’ve been doing that for days now, but I’ve never had to break anything up. I think part of that may be because of Saeko. But also, I think they’re just curious about each other.”

There were more people at the table that Kageyama would have never expected to see all sitting in one place, let alone (mostly) peacefully. But it would be a disservice to Hinata not to recognize the reason for it.

“You did this,” Kageyama said. “You… brought all these people together. In just two months?”

“It’s a fragile truce,” Hinata admitted, as he took his seat at the head of the long table. Kageyama sat at his right hand. “But it is a truce. And it will get better. It has to.”

Kageyama nodded. Hinata was always saying that people were stronger together. It was the opposite of what Kageyama had been taught growing up—that it was only his will, standing sure and alone, that mattered. He had been told depending on others would make him weak, but he knew now that wasn’t true.

“So,” Hinata said, as they helped clear plates away after the meal was finished. “You’re impressed, right?” This part was a little different, Kageyama knew; the king rolling up his sleeves to help scrub dishes clean. But Hinata wouldn’t have suddenly become too high and mighty to lift a finger for himself.

Kageyama, who had offered to help dry the dishes, snorted. “That’s what you’re concerned with? A couple months spent restructuring an entire kingdom and you want to know whether or not you’ve bowled me over?”

“Well, yeah, that’s the fun part,” Hinata said shamelessly.

In retaliation, Kageyama leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Come talk to me when you can beat me in a fight.”

Hinata squawked indignantly, pushing him away, before surreptitiously looking around to see if anyone had noticed. The earlier, mature image Kageyama had seen of him was instantly dashed, replaced by the boy he’d known who turned bright red whenever he held Kageyama’s hand.

“You’re trying to ruin my reputation,” Hinata accused him, poking at Kageyama’s belly.

“I ruined that ages ago,” Kageyama said with a grin. Hinata could act like no one knew about the two of them, but it didn’t change the fact that everyone knew. It was another of the reasons Kageyama liked staying down there. It was alright, that everyone knew.

Here, Hinata was king, and Kageyama was nobody (or he was the enemy, blood of the king above running through his veins), but it was alright. Here, it was alright that he let Hinata take him back to his room, to where they would share the same small bed, the same pillows, the same heat under the covers. Here, no one would take Hinata away from him.

“Oh-ho,” Hinata said, propped on his arms over Kageyama, looking down at him in the dim light of candle on the bedside table. “So you were impressed.” He trailed sneaky, practised fingers over the front of Kageyama’s pants and Kageyama arched his back into his touch, needy and irritated and in love, all at once.

“Maybe I care nothing for the crown,” Kageyama said petulantly, as Hinata coaxed his hips up, rid him of his clothes, tickled his throat with the tip of his nose. He couldn’t help but soften, the more Hinata kissed him. “Maybe I just care about the one wearing it.”

“Suit yourself,” Hinata whispered. Once he was inside Kageyama, once Kageyama had buried his fingers in his hair and held on tight enough that he could almost believe he’d never have to leave Hinata again, Hinata told him, triumphant: “Right now, it feels damn good being king.”

That’s because he’s already a great one, Kageyama thought, afterwards, lying facing Hinata, staring at the other boy’s elfin face. He was always so lively that seeing him asleep was slightly shocking.

Hinata had dreamed of this. He’d wanted to seize the crown, he’d wanted to pave the path for his people. For Kageyama, who was used to hating the inevitability of his future reign, this had seemed unthinkable. But the longer he’d known Hinata, the better he’d understood.

It wasn’t enough to want to be king for the crown alone. He had to want more—he had to want something for himself.

He brushed Hinata’s hair off his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead, careful not to wake him.

“If I am king,” he whispered, “then I want you by my side. Always.” He snuffed out the candle and curled up against the little ball of heat in the bed next to him.

Hinata had overturned an entire kingdom to achieve his dream. And Kageyama, if he must, would do the very same.

More Kinktober? If you’re not sure, maybe these will reverse your opinion...

#kagehina #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #kinktober #kinktober2017 #kagehina fanfiction #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!!#esselle writes #tumblr fic #kingdom of crows #essie's hq fic

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tylerhoechlin · 7 years

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Back From the Brink

Dylan O’Brien was groomed to be Hollywood’s next young leading man. Then a tragic accident made him question everything.

Dylan O’Brien knows you want to know what happened to him.

Some people search his face for scars. Others ask the 26-year-old actor questions about the accident in 2016 that nearly cut short his career and could have ended his life. For more than a year, he was able to dodge that scrutiny and recover in private. Now, with a new movie coming out and a press tour required to promote it, things are different.

“I was anticipating this for a long time,” he says over lunch at the Four Seasons in Los Angeles. “It used to really anger me, even just the thought of it. I just knew that eventually, I would have to be asked about this.”

He confesses these angry thoughts about as affably as any person could, as though he’s upset to even get upset. That doe-eyed decency has proved key to O’Brien’s screen appeal: In his breakthrough role as the lead of the Maze Runner franchise, he’s introduced in media res, thrust into a coliseum of YA terrors before we even learn who his character is. As he shakes and shivers and tries, alongside the audience, to make sense of his otherworldly predicament, you can’t help but root for him.

Not every actor can inspire that feeling in a viewer, but in O’Brien’s case, it’s so innate that the director of his new film, the action vehicle American Assassin, cast him simply after looking at his head shot. “I remember in that first discussion with my producers, names were being thrown around, and the one name I didn’t know yet was Dylan’s,” says Michael Cuesta. “I Googled him, I saw his picture, and I just said instinctively, ‘He’s right.’ There was an innocence and a vulnerability to him, and I hadn’t even seen his work yet. It’s an instinct you just have to trust.”

Cuesta wasn’t the only one besotted. At a time when Hollywood likes to import most of its young leading men from overseas — like Spider-Man’s Tom Holland, Star Wars breakout John Boyega, and an entire family of Hemsworths — The Maze Runner established O’Brien as a rare homegrown movie star. His profile grew ever larger while he shot the sequels to The Maze Runner and neared the end of his time on the MTV series Teen Wolf, and as work began on the third and final Maze Runner film, O’Brien started to look ahead to the future.

And then, just days into shooting that sequel, O’Brien was seriously injured in a stunt gone wrong. Pulled from one vehicle, he was reportedly struck by another, leaving him with a concussion, facial fracture, and brain trauma among his injuries. Production shut down for several weeks, then indefinitely. O’Brien withdrew from public view during his recovery as rumors flew that he might not return to the film. Half a year went by as O’Brien tried to heal and, at the lowest point in his life, mulled whether he wanted to continue his career at all. “I really was in a dark place there for a while and it wasn’t an easy journey back,” says O’Brien. “There was a time there where I didn’t know if I would ever do it again … and that thought scared me, too.”

Now, though, he is ready to talk about it.

“In a lot of ways, those six months went by like that,” he says, snapping his fingers. “And then, in a lot of ways, I can still remember that six months as if it was five years of my life.”

…………………………

Ask most young actresses when they wanted to become a movie star, and it won’t even be a question: They’ve been planning for it their whole lives. Kristen Stewart has been acting since she was a preteen, and at 14, Emma Stone put together a PowerPoint presentation to convince her parents to move to Los Angeles so she could go on auditions. But young American men seem come to acting differently — or indifferently. Channing Tatum was a model and dancer who happened into commercials before becoming a movie star. Chris Pratt happily toiled in obscurity as a Bubba Gump waiter in Hawaii when he was convinced by a customer to act in her film.

O’Brien’s foray into the industry was similarly unplanned. His parents had the expertise — O’Brien’s mother taught an acting class, while his father moved the family to California when O’Brien was 12 so he could pursue work as a camera operator — but in high school, he played drums in a jazz band instead of signing up for drama class. Like many of his classmates, though, O’Brien had a habit of posting videos to YouTube. They’re still there today: Check out his user page at “moviekidd826” and you can watch all 14 of his short comic sketches. Some of them are fairly simple, like his too-enthusiastic lip sync to the Spice Girls song “Wannabe,” and one of the uploaded clips is a teen staple, the video he made to ask a girl to prom.

Still, the shorts are clever and surprisingly narrative-driven, and O’Brien is a deft comic performer in all of them. He wouldn’t have thought of what he was doing as acting — he was just being himself, after all. But it’s exactly that unvarnished quality that made him so appealing, and as the videos began to circulate, he was signed by a woman who is still his manager today. Soon enough, he was being sent out to audition for projects like Valentine’s Day and Wizards of Waverly Place.

He hadn’t grown up knowing that he wanted to be an actor, but give O’Brien some credit: Once he figured that out, he committed hard. “My first semester of college, I’m going to sociology and English and psychology and all I cared about was getting home and preparing for whatever audition I had,” he says. “I’d be on IMDb looking at projects in development that I’d be right for and I’d send them to my manager and be like, ‘What’s going on with this?’” His ambition often outstripped his experience. “I was obsessed with having one of those auditions finally work out, and I was very impatient,” he recalls, laughing. “My manager would be like, ‘You have to understand, this could take years.’ And I was like, ‘No, no, no, I’m going to get one of these.’”

Only a few months after his high-school graduation, that’s exactly what happened. O’Brien was cast on Teen Wolf, a fledgling MTV series based on the campy 1980s movie. This version skewed darker and filled its cast with hunks, with the howls meant to come from the audience each time a sexy werewolf stripped off his shirt. It was a notable hit for MTV, and though O’Brien was cast as the human best friend — not as the protagonist, Scott, or as any of the eye-candy beasts on the show — the role was a good fit for his boy-next-door charm. He wasn’t just Scott’s friend. He felt like yours, too.

“That show really became my school in a lot of ways,” says O’Brien. “I never took a second on set for granted. Even on my first day on the pilot, when my work finished for the day but then they were going to this other location to shoot another scene, I just went with them.” As a cable show, Teen Wolf filmed only five months out of the year, so O’Brien had plenty of time to hop on to other projects: He took Zooey Deschanel’s virginity in a New Girl flashback and popped up on the big screen in films like the teen romance The First Time and the Vince Vaughn–Owen Wilson comedy The Internship. “I would want to get on as many sets as I could,” he said. “And I was still very much ambitious about being in movies, too.”

In 2013, the year after The Hunger Games hit big, O’Brien was cast as the lead in another book-to-film YA franchise, The Maze Runner. The rare $100 million hit toplined by a young actor under 25, it propelled O’Brien onto studio short lists and led to more work in bigger movies, including Peter Berg’s Deepwater Horizon and a Maze Runner sequel, The Scorch Trials. 20th Century Fox picked up an action comedy with O’Brien attached, a sign of his growing clout, and as Cuesta looked for someone to play black-ops recruit Mitch Rapp in American Assassin, based on a popular book series by the late Vince Flynn, he alighted on O’Brien.

“He looks like a boy next door, like my son’s older friends,” says Cuesta. “Like a young man who has one foot in that postadolescent place and is about to cross over into adulthood and take that rite of passage.”

In March 2016, just as O’Brien headed to Vancouver to film Maze Runner: The Death Cure, he committed to star in American Assassin, which would represent his biggest break so far from youth-driven fare. He planned to film that after wrapping The Death Cure, squeeze in some time to shoot Teen Wolf’s farewell season, and move on to the movies that studios had been setting up for him.

“To see him blossom in his career and see what he was taking on, it was amazing to watch,” says O’Brien’s father, Patrick. “And then to see that broken … it was hard.”

…………………………

O’Brien would rather not relive the particulars of his accident. “There’s really been one or two people who have tried to dig and find out what happened and I cut it off,” he says. “And I’m comfortable with where I draw the line.”

What’s known is that after that stunt on the set of The Death Cure went awry and production shut down on March 18, 2016, the studio planned to resume filming May 9, hoping to still make the film’s set February 2017 release date. Weeks later, though, it was clear that O’Brien’s injuries were so serious that filming could not begin again.

“I had lost a lot of function, just in my daily routine,” says O’Brien. “I wasn’t even at a point where I felt like I could handle social situations, let alone showing up and being responsible for work every day. Long hours on set, delivering a performance and carrying a movie … it just makes your palms sweat.”

O’Brien calls his recovery process “overwhelming,” though the biggest toll the accident took on him was psychological. Even if he could find his way back to the sense of stability he had before the accident, and even if those scars could heal, would he still want to return to the high-flying movie career he’d worked so hard to set up? After it all went away, he couldn’t even be sure he was the same person anymore.

“And then there was a part of me, too, that was feeling pressured and stressed out by the mere fact that I had all of these people still emailing me, checking in,” he says. “I would get so fucking mad. Like if ever I heard from a producer [who was] seeing when I’d be able to get back on set, I’d fucking go nuts. It would really, really piss me off.”

But as O’Brien recovered in private, rumors flew that his injuries were much more extensive than was reported, and the people behind the projects O’Brien had set up were forced to weigh their options. Cuesta didn’t want to recast American Assassin, but he also didn’t know what state his star was in. During his recovery, O’Brien had not communicated with the production in four months.

“I didn’t want to let it go, and I also had this really interesting, deeper connection to this character over the course of those four months because of what I was going through,” says O’Brien. American Assassin begins with a freak tragedy, as Rapp’s fiancée is gunned down by terrorists during a beach vacation and dies in his arms. Lost in a rabbit hole of grief, Rapp spends the next few months weaponizing his anger and decides to hunt down her killers himself. “I felt like I could portray that and wanted to be the one to do that justice — it was almost like an honor for me at that point,” O’Brien says. “But at the same time, I was still in such a fragile personal state that I had this other force telling me, like, ‘No fucking way’ that I can do it. ‘This is too soon, too soon. Tell them to leave me alone, I need more time.’”

Unfortunately, the film didn’t have much time to spare. If American Assassin didn’t go into production before a certain date, the film rights would revert back to Flynn’s estate, and if O’Brien still wanted to play Rapp, he’d have to spend two months getting into physical shape for the role. It was a daunting regimen of learning fight choreography and adding muscle to his frame that would take a lot of work for any actor, let alone one who was still reeling from his physical nadir. “I knew it wouldn’t be getting back on the horse in a light way,” says O’Brien.

And so, at the end of July, he recommitted to American Assassin. It was a signal to the industry that he wanted to work again, even if, privately, he still wondered if he’d be able to make it through. On the one hand, the time O’Brien spent in the gym with action coordinator Roger Yuan gave him something that he could focus on during those long days. But even as he grew physically stronger, O’Brien was still struggling with heavy emotional and psychological episodes during his recovery.

“Sometimes I’d literally show up at the gym having a panic attack, and my trainer would be like, ‘All right, let’s just go get breakfast,’” says O’Brien, who came to treat Yuan almost like a therapist. “I can’t give enough credit to him … he was really there for me, and not just like a trainer where it’s like, ‘Well, come on, man, I gotta pump you up.’ He cared more about my mind and the state that I was in.”

Near the end of their training, O’Brien was in the best physical shape he’d ever been, an unlikely development given the events of the last few months. But despite all that training to become Mitch Rapp, O’Brien’s anxiety only grew as the start date drew near. The day he was supposed to fly to London to prepare to film the movie, O’Brien had what he describes as an emotional breakdown in the airport. With his father and girlfriend Britt Robertson by his side, he questioned whether he could continue.

“I didn’t even think they’d let me on the plane, to be honest,” he says. “I must have looked high or something.” O’Brien’s father, who had planned to spend the first few weeks in London getting his son acclimated, proved to be the rock he needed in that moment. “I don’t think I would have been able to step onto the plane without him,” says O’Brien.

“That was a tough year for us,” says his father Patrick. “It was hard to see him like that … he’s such a special kid.” Patrick had never set foot on one of Dylan’s sets before — “I thought it was important to let it be his life and not be mine” — but on the first day Dylan shot American Assassin, he knew he had to be there. “It was mind-blowing,” says Patrick. “I was watching him from the monitors, and he was busting out 50 push-ups in between takes.”

It was all for a wordless sequence where we catch up with Mitch months after his fiancée’s death, watching him train and harden himself in his dark apartment. As O’Brien walloped on a punching bag and bust out dozens of pull-ups, the intensity was like nothing Patrick had seen from his son before: “Obviously, I’m getting concerned. I’m watching the monitors and I’m seeing the stress he’s putting on his body and his face and all the places that have been of some concern of late.”

When Cuesta called “cut,” Patrick walked past the first assistant director and up to Dylan. “I was almost nose to nose with him, and I’m not sure he saw me right away. He was in it, as much as you can be in it. And I said, ‘Dylan?’ He looked at me and kind of focused. And I said, ‘Are you okay?’ And he said, ‘I’m good.’”

“If he didn’t have the accident,” says Cuesta, “would he have connected that well with Mitch? I don’t know, but it definitely brought truth to it.”

O’Brien acknowledges that, too. “I’d just been through a lot that summer and the fact that you spend all this time not even knowing if you can do that again …” He pauses, and swallows. “Even right now, it’s just kind of hard to talk about.”

It helps, he says, that Patrick came aboard for the rest of the shoot as a camera operator, staying by his side when he needed him most. With his father there, he could be fearless. “I would just think about where I was at psychologically in June and July, how insurmountable the task seemed to me,” says O’Brien. “And then just to be there on the last day knowing that I did it, with my dad there at my side, it was just a really, really great feeling.”

“He’s in a good place now,” says Patrick. “And nothing makes a parent happier.”

…………………………

O’Brien doesn’t sugarcoat his recovery. Sitting in front of me at lunch, he looks every inch the movie star he was before: hair tousled, eyes bright, his face covered only by stubble. He is candid about what it took to get to this point, though, and even after filming American Assassin, the question remained: Was he ready to finish Maze Runner: The Death Cure, putting to bed the series that had given him so much and taken plenty, too?

“Nothing inside of you wants to go back to that,” O’Brien admits. “It took a lot of deep searching past those gut instincts that I was having just because of the trauma that I experienced to realize that I did want to finish it.”

Did he consider asking the studio to move on without him? “I wouldn’t have been ultimately happy with that, I don’t think. In the moment, it would have been a temporary relief because I would have run from it, but it would have always stuck with me a little bit … I knew it was going to be really hard, harder than Assassin probably, but [I thought] if I got through that, I can get through this, and I think I’ll come out of the other side being really happy that I did it. And I did.”

He resumed filming The Death Cure in March, which is now set for release in January 2018. His father followed him to South Africa, where the movie was shot, and was made a co-producer on the film; O’Brien now counts it among his best experiences on a project. He even found time to return to the final season of Teen Wolf, which had written around his absence while he recovered. The series finale of that show will air on September 24, and soon enough, every obligation O’Brien had set before his accident will be behind him.

“Coming out of the other side of all this is basically a whole new chapter, and I think I will be going about it differently,” he says. “I’m excited to have more balance going forward. Like, I’m not somebody I don’t think who’s going to do three or four movies a year and feel like I have to constantly pump them out. I think there’s something to be said about pacing yourself.”

In the meantime, he’s bought his first house, which gives him a little stability in an uncertain industry. He recently threw a party there to celebrate his 26th birthday — “It turned into more of a rager than I intended it to be,” he laughs — and an hour into it, O’Brien and his friends were already jumping off the roof into his pool. It’s a future that he could not have imagined just a year and a half ago.

“I’m excited to see what comes my way, see what I’m interested in next, and just see what happens,” says O’Brien. After Teen Wolf and The Maze Runner conclude, it’s wide-open space. “It’s the first time that I’ll be operating in my career without those two roles, really.”

He thinks about it and smiles. “It’s good, though, to not have that safety net.”

[source: Vulture]

#wow #dylan o'brien #american assassin #this was really hard to read #article #vulture #accident #recovery #patrick o'brien #michael cuesta #scruffysterekposts

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barbecuedphoenix · 7 years

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In the last oneshot/drabble you posted (which was very interesting and fun to read) you mentioned "Nevra fighting his dark instinct", do you have any headcanons on how he fights it during a long mission where he doesn't really have a variety of choices and his everyday life

As a matter of fact, I’ve got plenty of headcanons on Nevra livinglife as a vampire. ;) He’s not just a gorgeous man with pointy teeth and Spock-worthyears. So thanks for bringing this to my inbox, Anon.

Though technically, that lastrequest is a scenario: a really unrefined draft of a one-shot without properdialogue, action sequence, or description. But your thoughts are well and truly appreciated.^_^

(For anyone interested in reading that particular request, check it outhere. Warning: it’s shamelessly NSFW. Don’t take a cue from the characters andtry reading it in public.)

Anyway. To answer your question, Anon, I like to imagine that Eldaryavampires still retain a few traits of traditional vampires from folklore… andthat there’s a valid reason for why they were feared by humans (and possibly more) back in the day.While Nevra has naturalized himself (very successfully) to El’s non-vampirecommunity, I won’t be surprised if it’s still an ongoing battle for him tooverride millions of years of evolution. And if so, he probably hopes in one corner of his psyche that his fans at HQ remain oblivious to some of hismost basic urges. Otherwise, where will he get his love?

…Because some of his most basic urges outside the bedroom aren’t very sexy by non-vampire standards.Thank you.

Warning: What you’re about toread is at least 99% pure headcanon. Sadly, we still know zilch about the pure vampirelifestyle in El. :(

The Lure of Blood

To the average vampire, fresh blood sparks a powerful visceral reactionacross several levels: it stokes their appetite as a food source, fires theirlibido as a medium for sexual communion, and magnifies their senses as abiological meter for their own health and those around them– either friend,foe, or prey. If willingly provided by a clan-member or a longtime donor, thetaste of blood also fosters deep comfort and a sense of ‘home’. But if spilledfrom an enemy, a quarry, or themselves when they’re wounded, then the smell ofblood alone can trigger a berserker-worthy adrenaline rush. All this is theresult of millions of years of highly-specialized evolution, where blood advancedbeyond simple ‘food source’ to also become a medium for social affirmation, anda complex physical, sensory, and chemical language shared between predator, prey, and kin.

Not surprisingly, vampires encounter friction from other species who a.)don’t share the same evolutionary toolkit with blood, b.) keep culturallynarrow views on blood, and c.) have even less tolerance for blood-feeding (whichsome of them, understandably, still associate with being preyed on). Thiscultural clash is why vampires outside their clans typically avoid the medical,culinary, and military/mercenary professions, where blood contact happensfrequently and nervous non-vampires panic at seeing their eyes dilate at thefirst flash of red.

None of this has discouraged Nevra though from joining the Shadow Guardof El, where spilled blood is an unfortunate but necessary feature of fieldwork. The main reason: he has a steely confidence in his own self-control, anarguably-stronger loyalty to El… and no small amount of pragmatism in adjustingor smoothing over his ancestral instincts whenever they flare to life. Afterall, he cares about winning his colleagues’ trust, even if– a few eons back–he would have called them his ‘dinner’ in a very literal sense. So he follows aset of strict personal protocols, starting with…

Rule #1: Stay Neat onthe Field

It’s not just because Nevra is vain about his appearance; reducing bloodcontact on the field helps minimize the risk of losing his focus.

Because if he smells a fatal or near-fatal volume of fresh blood concentrated in onearea, at close quarters, and in a hostile situation away from home, he’s hit by amassive adrenaline spike: his already-keen reaction times sharpen, his physicalstrength and speed double, and his immunity to pain stiffens into a veritablelayer of armor over his skin. The world– to him– suddenly becomes six timesmore vivid across all senses, with the passage of seconds seeming to stretchinto minutes. This might seem like a boon for a field agent– and Nevra infact has tapped into this adrenaline spike to close in on a frustrating target or escapelife-threatening situations– but it comes at the cost of abandoning allcaution to the wind: his ability to restrain himself and move tactically arereduced (if not temporarily suspended). And once his adrenaline spike ebbs, hemight physically collapse after spending all his bodily reserves. Worse still,receiving cuts and smelling his own blood actually increases his aggression and fighting resolve, instead of promotingthe instinct to escape. Thus, too much blood exposure in combat will actuallymake this vampire more bestial than cunning, more a berserker than anassassin… and more dead than a hero.

This is why Nevra avoids open battlefields: instead listening to thesounds of battle, and sniffing out blood at range to detect and circumvent thereal slaughter zones. (Then let someone much less reactive, like Valkyon, enterto clean up instead.) He also applies a healthy amount of stealth and guerillatactics to tip the scales in his favor, and thus end a confrontation quickly(or at least, leave himself openings to escape the fray if it becomes too messy).Especially for someone like him, there’s a time limit to how long he can remainin a skirmish. But if direct combat is inevitable, he resorts to daggers only if heneeds to attack at range and/or subdue a very dangerous foe, otherwise takingthem down with bloodless judo(style) kicks, joint locks (or snaps), and whisper-silentnerve strikes.

It’s no light matter for him to whip out the daggers. When he does, he knows he has tofollow…

Rule #2: Be a Gentlemanwith Your Knife

The easiest solution to avoid the vampire blood-frenzy is to not spill blood in a fray. Right?

Well in Nevra’s book, the answer isn’t quite so simple: a sharp knife ismore precise, more concealable, and more merciful than a heavy bludgeoninginstrument. Also, heavier fights can be averted by a little psychologicalmeddling… like smiling at them when holding a dagger at their throat. Few thingsunnerve non-vampires more than spilling blood in front of a piqued vampire onfull sensory alert. They don’t knowhis steely restraint over himself; they can only assume that there’s realpredatory intent in the gleam of his eye, the flaring of his nostrils, and theway he sometimes licks his lips at them, flashing the points of his fangs thatmight just be sharper than that blade.

But. On the occasions whenhe does have to use the knife, Nevra stillabides by a code of conduct bred into his bones by his own people, and temperedfurther by (many) years of training: respect your prey and don’t allow them tosuffer for long. Kill with as few strikes as possible, as cleanly as possible.And when it’s done, leave the body in peace as soon as you can. Beneath themoral rhetoric though, this practice helps to minimize the gore on thebattlefield that will trigger the infamous blood-frenzies, and automaticallydistances the executioner from what blood continues to flow from the fatalwound. As well as from vindictive enemy clan-members, who’ll come flying in atsmelling the death of their kin on the wind.

There is a very realevolutionary benefit with being able to scent blood from over a quarter mileaway: it’s to be able to track your quarry, or find your clan members who’re indire need of your help. And if Nevra does find a ‘clan’ member (i.e. any of hiscolleagues in El) who’s missing a few scraps of skin at least, he knows he hasto adhere to…

Rule #3: Be Discreet inTouching the Wounded

Contrary to popular belief, the sight of a fresh wound does not arouse vampires all the time; themethod of skin penetration makes all the difference to the vampire brain. So ifNevra spies telltale toothmarks– or needle-like marks, at least– on the skin,he instinctively grows both hungry and aroused. (After all, this is the vampireequivalent of watching someone walk out of the bedroom, sans underwear.) But if something else has broken the skin– leaving aninjury–, a sense of distress pulls him hard to port instead, all sexual and feedinginstincts automatically capped by an urge to help: in other words, he reactslike any other sentient species does when encountering the wounded.

To most vampires, the difference between a fresh wound from a bite and afresh wound from a knife is as stark as the difference between a naked andaroused person, and a naked and terrified person. And it’s just as lurid asight. Even under his dismay and his overriding drive to help, Nevra won’t beable to help feeling acutely conscious of the victim’s body, what with thesmell of fresh blood lying thick on his palate and already waking his salivaryglands, his senses automatically piqued and tingling on high alert.

Still, it’s a matter of honor not to even stare. So when treating a fresh wound, he wills himself to enter a detached,clinical state of mind, focusing on only the depth of the wound, its chances ofinfection or contamination by poison, the chances of recovery, and especiallywhat pain it’s currently causing the victim. And he’ll minimize direct skincontact with their blood out of respect, then wash his hands afterwards: bloodin this case can’t be treated as a sexual communion, no more than a surgeon canlust after a patient on their operating table. Doing otherwise would be a gross impropriety. If amongother vampires though, Nevra might do a clinical smell of the bloodsample to check for signs of poison, disease, and so forth; that’ll be the limitof his direct contact.

Notall blood that’s spilled by the body is harmful, per se. So when Nevra catchesthat telltale tang of iron in the air athome, he knows he has to follow…

Rule #4: Watch Your StepWhen Blood is Spilled at Home

Back in the clan, blood is spilled in small increments on a regularbasis: it’s equal parts social exchange, sexual exchange, health check, andsnack. The usual shenanigans of a sociable house. So it took Nevra a short, butsobering period of adjustment in his early days in El to realize that blood spilledin a non-vampire home might mean somethingmore serious. And then he realized a new level to his parental instincts:now every snatch of blood he smells at HQ carries at least a 50% chance of trouble,far higher than it ever was where he grew up.

Still, he can’t afford to knock down doors to investigate, not withoutseriously alarming– and potentially embarrassing– his colleagues (who have noidea how he knows they’re bleeding, from across HQ). Instead,he has to play the off-duty detective whenever his infamous nose is triggered,stepping carefully between inquiry and eavesdropping.

Nevra has already learnt to give the infirmary a wide berth whenever he scents blood coming from thatvicinity; blood is to be expected there, and it’s under Ewelein’s jurisdiction. The line isn’t quite so clear though whenever thatsmell emanates from the barracks or showers. Fortunately, this is where being aspymaster comes in handy: it’s never too hard to get the ‘unofficial’ healthrecords he needs. (Gossip, when enough is collected from many sources, saysplenty.) And in case he needs to confirm a few murky facts for himself, he’llmake a series of ‘casual’ strolls through the area to pinpoint the precisesource of the smell (which he won’t mention to anyone just yet). If he traces it to a female recruit’sdoor or shower stall, and listens in to find the occupant isn’t under any particulardistress– or might even be enjoying the company of a first-time partner–,then he keeps walking. Maybe with a ghost of a smile.

One of the consequences ofhaving a vampire’s sense of smell is that feminine biology has given up itssecrets to Nevra long ago. He’s fine with it.

None of the vampire folklore I’ve found mentions anything about why they need blood/qi/life-force/etc., beyond the catch-all explanation that it’s because the undead don’t quite like being dead. (And that biting the neck is a disturbing way to combine sex with death.)

So I jumped off in a different direction entirely: what evolutionary benefits might a taste for blood offer, for a live species that enjoys necking each other?

…All right, I might have gone overboard again with spinning vampire headcanons. That’s bio-anthropology for you. :/

(Though if you’re interested in reading aboutthe more romantic side to blood-drinking, check out the equally-overboard analysis/headcanon forNevra here.)

Regardless, please read, enjoy (hopefully), and review. Any and allfeedback is appreciated. :)

#Eldarya #request #headcanon #Nevra

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