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panharmonium · 3 years

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@dreamersscape please forgive me for tagging you in a post to respond to your comments; tumblr’s reply feature is hard to have an extended/coherent conversation on, and I’m so excited to talk to a kindred Naruto spirit that I knew I was gonna write too much for it all to fit in that space XD

re: hinata - Oh my gosh, YES, my sister and I were so frustrated by how they just completely never addressed that moment again. I wasn't surprised, because it's been clear from the beginning that this show doesn't really care much about women, so the female characters' storylines getting dropped or never explored in the first place is pretty much what I've always expected, but it's still infuriating.

Honestly, the only good thing about this show's general disinterest in women is that it means that I don't place any blame on in-story Naruto for never addressing what Hinata did for him, because I know the fact that we don't see him dealing with her confession isn't actually intended to communicate anything about his reaction/non-reaction/level of investment; it's literally just a function of the fact that the writer doesn't care about her story. It's the same way I feel about how we see so much less one-on-one time between Kakashi and Sakura - her lack of screentime with him isn't something about which a person can credibly argue "Oh, this means Kakashi doesn't care about her enough and he's a bad teacher etc etc," because the imbalance isn’t a deliberate writing decision we're supposed to analyze for characterization. It's a reflection of the fact that the entire show is super sexist. XD

re: danzo: It’s one thing to have your villain believe himself to the hero of his own story, and like, another to have Danzo basically tout having darkness in your heart being a great thing and encouraging it’s presence/cultivating it - lmao YES! And honestly, this is why I actually find Danzo LESS infuriating than the Third Hokage. Like, Danzo is Super Evil and every time he exploits another child I want to watch him die all over again, but at least he like....owns his horribleness? Whereas Hiruzen is the biggest hypocrite on the planet - when I rewatched the Shonen Jump stuff a while back (my sister and I took a little break prior to Season 11 and rewatched some old stuff), I couldn't stand listening to Hiruzen go on and on about how the entire Leaf Village is his family and it's his role to protect all of them etc etc, because like - he literally covered up the genocide of Sasuke's entire family and let the perpetrator remain in power (and that was before I even knew about all these other crimes he allowed to go unpunished!!!) Danzo may be the Worst, but at least he's not pretending to be anything other than what he is. Hiruzen is still acting like he's everybody's sweet old grandpa, and that makes me even more angry than Danzo's straight-up horribleness. (And I do agree with you, they definitely lean harder into the "Lord Third is amazing" stuff pre-Shippuden, I just still feel confused about what the show is ultimately trying to say about him because we haven't gotten an explicit enough condemnation of his choices yet, and I feel like it's way overdue XD )

re: minato - Hard agree that Minato is an enigma. I don't feel like I fully understand him either - and not in a bad way, just in the sense that he's hard to read. The toughest thing for me to parse was always how distant he seemed with his students, which was surprising to me at first, because he'd been built up as sort of this "ideal shinobi" figure for such a long time, but to me, an ideal shinobi teacher looks more like...well, Kakashi, to be honest. And it took a while for me to reconcile with the fact that Minato and Kakashi really do just relate to their students very differently. I think Minato has always been a soldier, and I think he sees children as soldiers, too - not in an evil way at all, just in the sense that this is how the shinobi world works, and how it has always worked. It's not a "wrong" way to perceive shinobi kids, in the context of the story's universe. And so when things happen to those kids, he absolutely cares, but it's also sort of just a grim fact of life for him. It's like when Kushina tells him she doesn't want to make Naruto a jinchuriki, and she asks 'why do we have to do that to him, why does he have to suffer that way for the sake of the balance of power between nations,' and Minato's response is “Because our family is Shinobi.” That was a really telling moment for me in terms of how he sees the world. It's not something I'm interested in condemning him for, like you said; I don't think the story is ever asking us to do that, it’s just a philosophy that's very different from how Kakashi sees things and what he thinks children's experiences should be like.

I guess what I ultimately think (from the material we’ve seen so far, at least) is that Minato seems to perceive the loss of his students as something that Kakashi is struggling with, not something he himself is agonizing over. It’s a very sad thing that happened, of course, but it’s just part of the way their world works/a function of the times they live in. It's not something Minato is tormenting himself about. Whereas I think that if Kakashi ever lost a kid, it would have killed him. And I don't think this fact is in any way supposed to paint Minato as a bad person. He's not! All it means is that there is a generational difference between the world Kakashi and Co. are trying to create and the world Minato always knew, and people like Minato are doing the best they can with the framework they have.

I do like the guy a lot - and I wonder what he might have been like if he had lived to see a permanent peace established.

re: little Yamato - oh boy, those episodes nearly ended me. I am already very, very, VERY weak for Kakashi and Yamato’s friendship, and seeing Kakashi rescue Yamato from that horrible place (literally and metaphorically) was too much for me to handle. Kakashi’s silhouette replacing Danzo in Yamato’s memories of being rescued from Orochimaru’s lab - that slew me. And the way Danzo tells Yamato “you have no past, no future, no name” juxtaposed with Kakashi introducing Yamato as Tenzo because he remembers from three years ago how Yamato once rebelled at being called Kinoe and yelled “MY NAME IS TENZO” - Kakashi just using that chosen name without hesitation, without question, without needing to be told...it all ties back into the recent thematic throughline the show is working with about Identity - the importance of the Tailed Beasts having names, Kabuto’s desperate and misguided search for “who and what he is,” Itachi reclaiming his true self by undoing the reanimation justu and declaring “I am Itachi Uchiha of the Leaf Village,” Obito claiming that his real name doesn’t matter anymore, that he’s Nobody...it’s fantastic how they’re pulling all this together.

re: Kakashi and little Naruto - oh man, the feelings. I agree with you that Kakashi was in no place to be dealing with this, but certainly under different circumstances I think he would have loved to be a part of baby Naruto’s life. I actually think the reasoning behind “let’s put Kakashi in a situation where he’s in close contact with someone bringing new life into the world” is sound - I think that would be a really good thing for him! Just not in the sense of “you’re Kushina’s personal bodyguard, so if anything happens to her and the baby you can blame yourself for it.” XD Like...Minato could have invited Kakashi in for dinner sometimes, instead of having him constantly stand guard under their window??? If it had been more “we care about you and we want you to be a part of our family”....ugh, that would have been amazing. Kakashi is already SO good with Naruto (who is NOT by any means an easy kid to manage) - he just has such good instincts about how to talk to that kid and teach him in ways that work WITH Naruto’s particular brand of high motivation/low frustration tolerance, ping-pong emotional extremes, explosive energy levels, zero impulse control, and an inability to process more than one thing at a time. Handling Naruto effectively would be a challenging project for any teacher, never mind taking care of Naruto and two other kids, but Kakashi is a natural at it. It would have been awesome to see what Kakashi was like with Naruto when they were even younger...though the Feels might knocked me out.

[also, you mentioned Naruto and Obito - I cannot even tell you the Extremest Agonies I was in when the big reveal happened and I had to hear Naruto blankly go “who is he” - utterly clueless, without the faintest idea that he’s looking at the person who shaped his entire moral philosophy. The amount of things that these kids don’t know...that fact that Naruto has been quoting this very person all his life and making all his major life decisions based on the lesson Kakashi relayed to them on Day One - Obito’s words - oh boy oh boy I was not capable of handling that even the littlest bit.]

#*high fives your brain right back*#feel free to gush about this show anytime - i am right there with ya! :D #replies #naruto #pan watches naruto

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harviekeith · 4 years

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daily dose of daisies

I've been very protective of my space lately. I want to be very careful of how I want to spend my time and my day. Control those things that I can in my favor, for my own peace of mind.

Lately, I've been going back to the things I am so passionate about such as painting and writing, arts in general. it's long overdue but I can say I’m happy (plus, may I just say, what a blessing it is to finally be able to listen to the re-recorded love story by Ms. Swift.) Yes, I'm a Swiftie...for 12 years now. She's a part of me and always will. You know I'm not fond of dogs due to a dog-attack incident that happened years ago. But you know how dog-owners always say "he's my best friend"?...For me, that's Taylor Swift. I'm not saying that she's a dog (omg this is getting messed up lmao). But the relationship and the beautiful feeling that owners have with their dogs, I have that with Taylor Swift, even though I'm sure she doesn't have the slightest idea who I am but yeah, she's my best friend.

And that beautiful feeling that I mentioned earlier, I don't know exactly how to explain it but I like to think of them and call them daisies. Because they look so humble and shy... full of sunshine (no offense sunflower). It is anything that makes your heart full, and brings you to your calmest. It makes you excited, gets you through the day, and fulfills you. Those daisies, I also get them through art: painting, drawing, writing, reading. And that's what I've been up to these past week: collecting daisies, trying to be in full bloom. It keeps the monsters at bay and the band-aids sticked.

Yesterday, I just bought a new pack of watercolor papers and I courageously bought an acrylic paint set and a canvas. I'd never done acrylics, more so on a canvas. I was at it for almost 4hrs last night, but it was so fulfilling. I couldn't stop taking photos of it. I didn't have anyone to share it to yet but the peacefulness of the night and the brightness of the moon was enough to make me feel that someone is proud of me. I woke up this morning with my right arm sore up to my shoulders, but I still managed to jump rope for a good 3 sets of 20 counts. I have a weak body, hence, the jump-roping. I'm not fond of going to the gym, even before the pandemic. I really am not a work-out type of person, but I used to be fit, considering my lung issue, during my teenage years (I’m 22 btw), or at least I think I was, because of dancing and field games with friends. But when I started working, my only exercise is the commute from my house to our office. But at least now, I'm trying to get back into shape and be active, it keeps me excited about the long-term result and also it makes my body healthy.

Earlier today just before I started writing this, I moved the furniture on our living room. Tried to gave it a little glow-up, and to try something new. But really I just wanted to have space for my art materials, my books and my computer. A personal space. I'm staying at my parents' house and I don't have my own room, so I just wanted to have a nook, a corner of my own. And that's where I'm currently writing at. My table is at a corner, with a window in front of me facing our front yard and another window just on my right, a little behind me, giving me enough space to stick and display some of my artworks on the wall on my side. And another table on my left for my books and art things. It is kind of weird but organizing things makes my heart full, though it could be very tiring for some. I guess it's the Virgo in me. The only struggle is the dusts. My nose gets easily irritated then I'll keep sneezing. But seeing everything clean and pleasing to the eye, it's worth all the sneezes.

I guess I can say I've been having a pretty week. I got good doses of daisies this week. I think I'll come up with some sort of tracker or planner (which I'm also obsessed with) to keep track of my daisies or if I'm able to get a dose for each day. I know you have so many passions as well, let me know about them. And I hope you get your own daily dose of daisies too.

#daisies #dailydose #passion #art #free write #writing

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captainelsaeverdeen · 4 years

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I like me better when I’m with you ~Part 4.

Hello my bumblebees! I think we’re in the middle of this au so there would be four parts more! I already have plans for another series but let’s just end this one to write another. Maybe for a short period of time my work would be uploaded on my seperate imagines blog but if that hapenns, I’ll tell you where to find it! Let me know if you like it! Song: “Your Love” by The Outfield.

summary: based on ‘To All The Boys I Loved Before’. Y/N Henderson used to be in love a couple of times. This time she’s sure it’s something bigger, something serious. Her love for Jonathan Byers is unlimited, untamed and endless. At least she thought so. Read Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 here.

The fries were hot, too hot to grab them with your fingers. Despite that, Robin grabbed a few carefully in two fingers and put them in her mouth. You waited impatiently for what she would say, tapping your foot under the table. Your friend sighed.

“I have a solution” she said, trying to reach the salt on the other side of the table. “Thank goodness” you sighed. Robin looked at you with a serious face. “It involves fire”. “Absolutely not” you've resisted firmly. Robin rolled her eyes over and started eating.

“If you'd come to me earlier, I'd tell you you shouldn't have done that” she murmured, drinking a sip of her chocolate milkshake. The bar was filled to the brim with kids like you who hated school dinners and saved money for fast food. “But since tragedy already happened and you had to make a quick decision without my generous intervention, we have... you, in fact, have no choice but to survive these two months. After all, the contract was signed. You must cure yourself of unrequited love.”

“I'm sure it won't be that bad. Steve... Steve was quite nice today”

“Because he is nice” Robin rolled her eyes again. “That's why girls stick to him like a fly to the syrup. One smile, and they're already dreaming about rubbing his long hair. Of all the boys at school, you had to tell him that he's your boyfriend?” ”Maybe it would be better if I said I meant Tommy?” you raised your eyebrow. “I would've strangled you. You wouldn't even get turned on because I'd only do it to really kill you” Robin snorted. You grabbed a handful of fries from your plate and threw them into her blouse, leaving fat stains on her. The waitress sent you a warning look. Robin opened her mouth wide.

“You're lucky there wasn't ketchup on them. What do you have to do, as Mrs. Harrington?” “Not much. I've pledged to come to his matches and of course his parties. He has the right to drive me to school and he'll be spending movie nights with us.”

“Sounds good” Robin leaned her head on her hand. “His car is insane. Anything else?” “Well... he's gonna have lunch with us” you said slowly. Robin moaned, her head leaned against the worn couch she was sitting on. “I don't know if I can survive this. I'll try to look at the food, not the two of you. If you start kissing when I eat, I swear to God...”. “We're not gonna” you answered quickly by taking a sip of your drink. “I told him he can't kiss me”.

“Like... no kissing at all? At all? Zero? Nothing?” Robin squealed her eyes wide. “I've never had a boyfriend before. I wish that... all my first times, first dates, first kisses wouldn't be fake”. “Maybe they won't be if you fall in love with him” Robin shrugged her shoulder. You twisted your head. “I'm not gonna fall in love. I don't know if I can cure from Jonathan. But even if, me and Steve... it's never gonna happen. We don't fit together”.

“Never say never. Maybe you'll like it so much that you'll stop pretending in a while”.

You turned your head to the window, looking at the world outside the diner. There was this risk. Old feelings could come out, Steve could dig them out of your heart and brutally re-activate them. But even if he did, would he feel the same? Of course not. Each of you has a purpose in this. You don't want Jonathan to find out the truth, and Steve wants to show people that his breakup with Nancy is long overdue. It's just business. There's no room for feelings in business.

"How do I keep getting into these situations?" you sighned. Robin slipped some fries under your nose, almost forcibly stuffed it in your mouth. She laughed so much that she shaked the table, and a little bit of her milkshake landed on your shirt. You opened your mouth wide, watching your friend roll out of laughter. "Two years of friendship and I still don't know," she said, wiping the tears caused by laughing in her face.

Dustin was always distracted, but in the morning he passed himself off. His hair was in disarray, he walked around the house looking for books, clothes, or money while you or Mom made him a second breakfast. One minute he was in the kitchen and the next he was upstairs because he forgot his hat. Each day of the week.

When he finally sat down at the table to eat his cereal, he looked at his watch.

“Son of a bitch. If I don't leave right now, I'll be late. I'm gonna eat something at school”. “Eat your breakfast” you puted him back in the chair. You gave him a spoon in his hand, biting your lower lip. “We have a ride today”.

“Ride?” he asked surprised. “Mom didn't go to work today?” “She did, but I don't mean mom. Someone else will take us”. “You mean Jonathan?” your brother was so emotional that he didn't have to ride his bike that he completely forgot about his breakfast, while you were chewing lazy your toast looking out the window. “Oh no... it's Robin. I don't get in if it's Robin, the boys are already waiting for me...”.

“Sit down” you pushed him back in the chair again. “It's not Robin, it's just... just wait”. “Wait for my own death? I don't think so” Dustin snorted when Steve's red BMW finally showed up on your street. You grabbed your backpack and your brother and you fell out, hearing the sounds of song of The Outfield from a distance. The boy got out of the car in full sunshine, with blushing cheeks, partly hidden behind sunglasses. He rested one of his hands on his hip, looking at you and Dustin, who desperately tried to close his mouth open out of surprise.

“Ready?” Steve asked impatiently. You were the first to run off the porch, running into the car and opening the back door for your brother. Dustin walked slowly into the car and got inside. “Since when do you drive Y/N to school?” Before Steve could put the keys in the ignition, Dustin leaned forward and the seatbelt was probably sticking in his neck. “You're friends again? You're dating? Is Y/N your girlfriend? Y/N, is Steve your boyfriend?”

“Shut up and lower down, because your face is all I see in the mirror” Steve sighned. You stopped laughing by leaning your forehead against the window glass when brown-eyed boy pulled your ear gently. Enough gently that it didn't hurt, but enough to push you away from the door to turn around.

“Don't breath on that, it's expensive” the boy joked, moving off the driveway. “More expensive than your glasses?” Dustin snorted, already pulling sandwiches out of his backpack. “It should have been your second, not your first breakfast” you raised just one brow. “I didn't get to eat the first one. I was too dazzled by the glow of that red paint” he said, looking around the inside of the car in admiration. “Why are we going with you?” “Steve... Steve suggested yesterday that since he drives every day in the same direction...” “I'm dating your sister” Steve blured out, answering you'r brother's earlier questions. Dustin's face was smiling wide, revealing his braces. He happily hit the back of your chair, sticking his little fists in your back.

“Holy shit!” Dustin whistled loudly into your ear. “Our little girl is grown up!” “I hate you” you looked at Steve with a killer eye, and he just shrugged his shoulder. “Why? I'm adorable” he snorted. “He should know. That's how his morning's gonna look every day from now”.

“Don't shit” Dustin's eyes went out. “Everyday? Troy will literally break out of jealousy”. “That's what it's all about. You don't even know how the girls will react to you when you show up in a car like this. And in this company” Steve smiled proudly. A few minutes away and rocking your heads to his favorite pieces on the tape later you found yourself under the middle school building, where usually only parents would come, or the school bus. Steve looked outside with a disgust. “What's the word for that infestation of tiny creatures over there?” “Those are children. That's a school” you explained, blinking slowly. Dustin got off with looking like a ray of sunshine, he said something that sounded like goodbye and ran to his friends, looking at you with delight.

“I thought you told him” Steve shrugged his shoulder. “He would have guessed”. ”I know, but... he's in love with you enough anyway. I don't want him to be sorry afterwards when... you know” you said, like you didn't care. Once you break up. Someday it will happen, and Dustin will be devastated when the red car and Steve are gone. He was his idol.

“Woah, slow down, slow down. We just started. We have a wonderful two months ahead of us. My company will light up your life. You'll see. And the kid... kid will always be important to me, you know? I don't know what will have to happen to change it” Steve said, drumming his fingers into the wheel. You smiled at yourself. Guess every girl would want her brother and boyfriend to get along, right? The two most important men in her life...

Except Steve's not your real boyfriend. Why did it get so hard to remember every step of the way? Forgetting it is dangerous.

People's looks are an integral part of going to school, so over time you can get used to them, but certainly not now. Not when literally everyone is staring at you with a laser in their eyes, when Steve embraces you with his shoulder, leaning in your ear from time to time to say something funny. His hands were everywhere. Of course not literally, but there was no way to go next to him without holding his hand, not to feel his arm on your waist. Physical contact was a priority if all of this was going to work.

“You're doing pretty good” Steve said when you got to your locker. “I'm impressed”. “Thank you. Given that I don't have any experience, it means a lot to me” you said, hiding books in your locker. “I still think it's crazy, but I think it works, so...” “Crazy would think it wouldn't work. You'll see that Jonathan...” Steve broke off half the sentence. All of a sudden, the pictures and stickers inside your locker have become interesting to him. “Jonathan what?” you asked quietly, pressing the book to your chest. Steve coughed and took off his sunglasses, cleaning them with his T-shirt.

“Nancy is a great girl. But if he had looked around earlier, he would have found one, too” he murmured under his breath, without raising his eyes. He put his dark glasses on your head, and when they fell on your eyes, he laughed sincerely, correcting them again. He tried to get serious and pointed his finger at you, although the smile was still lurking in the corner of his mouth. “If you lose them, if you destroy them or scratch them... you're ass is grass, Henderson. Is that clear?”

“Of course” you admited quickly, not wanting to upset him. Steve smiles brightly and leaned down to kiss your cheek. You heard the girls sighing behind you. Becky was standing by her locker too, clenching her hands firmly on her black pen, seeing the two of you. Steve stood back and pinched you in the nose. “I'll see you later?” he asked, and you nod your head slowly. He left his way (without his glasses this time) but he turned around to wave to you at the end of the hallway. Your heart jumped a few times, banging on your ribs. That boy was so beautiful. And for a moment... for a few weeks, he could only be yours.

You twisted your head to drive the intrusive thoughts out of your head again and turned to go to your class, but you couldn't go on. You were blocked by Nancy.

Bathrooms in schools are not the best place to talk, but the ladies' bathrooms at least were cleaner than the boys'. Nancy sat with her legs crossed on cold tiles on the floor under the sinks, drawing tiny hearts with a pink marker on her notebook, listening to your story.

“I'm sorry that I only told Jonathan. He found out by coincidence” you said, suddenly feeling ashamed. A gentle smile appeared on your friend's face, the marker froze over the white paper. “I hope you're not angry at me”. “I'm not” Nancy twisted her head so hard that her curls covered her face for a moment. “For not telling me and for being with him. I wish you both the best. Steve is a wonderful guy. And you are a marvelous girl! I was just hoping you could give me some spicy details”.

“Spicy... details?” you repeated slowly, praying for someone to go to the toilet. “Oh, don't be shy” Nancy kneeled down on her knees, leaning her hand against the sink above her to keep her balance. “How did that happen? Jonathan said you invited him on a date, so you have to tell me what happened. What were you doing? You guys already kissed each other, right?”

Details. How could you both be so stupid to not set a common version? If you say something else to Nancy... and he'll say something different to his mates, you'll bring suspicion on yourself. The school's gonna start to be filled with false rumors. Think like Steve. What would Steve think...

“It's just... somehow work out, you know?” you shrugged your shoulder innocently. You gave her a fake smile, feeling your thoughts trying to get ahead of each other on the highway in your brain. “We talked for a while during his training, so I suggested we can have lunch together the next day... and since then we're inseparable”.

“You don't even know how happy I am” Nancy squeezed your hand tight. Her small fingers have been warmly wrapped around your pale hand. “Since I started dating Jonathan... I was afraid you'd feel uncomfortable with us. Although you assured me that it's not like that, I know how you must have felt sometimes. That doesn't mean we didn't want to spend time with you, don't get me wrong. I just... I didn't want you to be alone. Now I don't have to worry anymore, right?”

“Yeah” you smiled at her. Nancy was always there for you, and she always wanted the best for you. Lying to her is not right. But if she doesn't find out about Jonathan being more than friend that to you... you won't break her heart. It'll be worth it. Your own misery, for the happiness of a friend. Life is constant sacrifice. And you don't always have to act selfishly. You'll make sure Nancy is happy. You'll make sure she's happy like no one else.

“Y/N, someone's ringing the doorbell!” Dustin screamed from his room, interrupting you from reading the book. You put it on your stomach. Mr. Darcy was just about to confess his love to Elizabeth Bennet, and there's no way you're gonna get out of bed until he does. If Mom was at work and her friends knew about it, it was definitely someone to your brother. Or to you.

“Why can't you open the door?” you yelled, taking your legs off the wall. “I'm a little busy here! Just open the door!” your brother shouted. Mr Darcy had to wait for your reading to move forward. You came down the stairs, almost stepping on your cat, who, strangely enough, liked the lowest step. You opened the door wide, seeing Steve on the other side. He was wearing a black jacket, dark jeans, and his hair was perfectly up. If Mr Darcy had existed in the '80s, he'd probably look like him. But you're not Elizabeth Bennet, so you shouldn't allow yourself unnecessary comparisons.

“We supposed to see each other?” you asked, surprised, unable to take your eyes off his. “No, but I didn't have your number, so I thought I'd come. Can I come in?” “Sure” you smiled, leading him inside. God, when was he last here? You remembered that his favorite hiding place was between the wall and your mom's chair. That he once couldn't reach the shelf in the fridge with the chocolate milk on it. Now he was taller than the fridge. He watched everything with curiosity, as if he wanted to see how much of what he remembers had changed. You didn't know he saw the biggest change in you. He remembered when you once hit your head so hard on the stair railing that a big purple bruise stayed on your skin for weeks. Now there was no trace of it. Even if there was, it wouldn't matter. Looking at you, in a striped shirt with flushed cheeks, Steve thought you were just adorable.

“As I was saying” Steve leaned lazy against the table top. He took an apple from a fruit bowl and tossed it a couple of times in his hand. “I didn't have your number, and my teammate Evan is having a party today. I was gonna go, but... but if you can't, or don't want to, I'll understand”. “Why can't you go alone?” you asked, genuinely surprised. Steve stopped tossing the apple.

“Because, Henderson, you're my girlfriend. I'm not going anywhere without you” he said. The corners of your mouth turned up. “I don't know if that's a good idea. Isn't it too early to introduce me to your friends?” you asked. Of course it wasn't too early. But the vision of Steve coming with you to the party, drinking alcohol with him, leaning lazy on his chest while sitting on the couch literally terrified you. “I don't know if Jonathan's going there, but parties are in the contract. A deal is a deal, Henderson. I'll wait until you get changed”.

“Okay... but I can't be home late” you said firmly, going up the stairs. “What do you mean by saying 'late'? You need to be a little more specific”. “Midnight. We'll be home at 12:30 pm, and I'll go to bed at 1:30 am. So we have to go out at midnight” you smiled proud of your own calculations. Steve twisted his head with disbelief. A corner of his mouth lifted. How could he disagree? He's gonna bring you here at midnight, even if he's gonna go over the speed limit to do it.

“Let it be, Cinderella. Before your carriage turns into pumpkin, you'll be home”. “I thought your car was red, not orange” you joked, running up the stairs. You stopped halfway up and turned to the boy who bit into the apple. Mews only now turned her attention to him, raising her head from over her thick fur.

“Are you legal to drink yet?” you asked, squinting your eyes. Steve moved the fruit away from his mouth. “You're serious? The fake ID in my wallet says I am” he said, raising his shoulders. “I can work with that” you nodded your head and ran upstairs. Steve laughed quietly, unable to be not surprised. He and Y/N Henderson are going to a party together. This is going to be an interesting night.

Taglist: @krazykatkay456 @mochminnie @the-almond-dinger @ghostineleven @art-flirt @sydzygy @queen1054

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers #steve harrington x reader #dustin henderson imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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stevenismyboy · 4 years

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I like me better when I’m with you ~Part 4.

This fic was posted first on my main blog which is captainelsaeverdeen. I started my own blog only for my imagines and I moved all my work from there to here. Hope you guys would enjoy my work! <3

Hello my bumblebees! I think we’re in the middle of this au so there would be four parts more! I already have plans for another series but let’s just end this one to write another. Let me know if you like it! Song: “Your Love” by The Outfield.

“I have a solution” she said, trying to reach the salt on the other side of the table. “Thank goodness” you sighed. Robin looked at you with a serious face. “It involves fire”. “Absolutely not” you’ve resisted firmly. Robin rolled her eyes over and started eating.

“If you’d come to me earlier, I’d tell you you shouldn’t have done that” she murmured, drinking a sip of her chocolate milkshake. The bar was filled to the brim with kids like you who hated school dinners and saved money for fast food. “But since tragedy already happened and you had to make a quick decision without my generous intervention, we have… you, in fact, have no choice but to survive these two months. After all, the contract was signed. You must cure yourself of unrequited love.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Steve… Steve was quite nice today”

“Because he is nice” Robin rolled her eyes again. “That’s why girls stick to him like a fly to the syrup. One smile, and they’re already dreaming about rubbing his long hair. Of all the boys at school, you had to tell him that he’s your boyfriend?” ”Maybe it would be better if I said I meant Tommy?” you raised your eyebrow. “I would’ve strangled you. You wouldn’t even get turned on because I’d only do it to really kill you” Robin snorted. You grabbed a handful of fries from your plate and threw them into her blouse, leaving fat stains on her. The waitress sent you a warning look. Robin opened her mouth wide.

“You’re lucky there wasn’t ketchup on them. What do you have to do, as Mrs. Harrington?” “Not much. I’ve pledged to come to his matches and of course his parties. He has the right to drive me to school and he’ll be spending movie nights with us.”

“Sounds good” Robin leaned her head on her hand. “His car is insane. Anything else?” “Well… he’s gonna have lunch with us” you said slowly. Robin moaned, her head leaned against the worn couch she was sitting on. “I don’t know if I can survive this. I’ll try to look at the food, not the two of you. If you start kissing when I eat, I swear to God…”. “We’re not gonna” you answered quickly by taking a sip of your drink. “I told him he can’t kiss me”.

“Like… no kissing at all? At all? Zero? Nothing?” Robin squealed her eyes wide. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I wish that… all my first times, first dates, first kisses wouldn’t be fake”. “Maybe they won’t be if you fall in love with him” Robin shrugged her shoulder. You twisted your head. “I’m not gonna fall in love. I don’t know if I can cure from Jonathan. But even if, me and Steve… it’s never gonna happen. We don’t fit together”.

“Never say never. Maybe you’ll like it so much that you’ll stop pretending in a while”.

You turned your head to the window, looking at the world outside the diner. There was this risk. Old feelings could come out, Steve could dig them out of your heart and brutally re-activate them. But even if he did, would he feel the same? Of course not. Each of you has a purpose in this. You don’t want Jonathan to find out the truth, and Steve wants to show people that his breakup with Nancy is long overdue. It’s just business. There’s no room for feelings in business.

“How do I keep getting into these situations?” you sighned. Robin slipped some fries under your nose, almost forcibly stuffed it in your mouth. She laughed so much that she shaked the table, and a little bit of her milkshake landed on your shirt. You opened your mouth wide, watching your friend roll out of laughter. “Two years of friendship and I still don’t know,” she said, wiping the tears caused by laughing in her face.

When he finally sat down at the table to eat his cereal, he looked at his watch.

“Son of a bitch. If I don’t leave right now, I’ll be late. I’m gonna eat something at school”. “Eat your breakfast” you puted him back in the chair. You gave him a spoon in his hand, biting your lower lip. “We have a ride today”.

“Ride?” he asked surprised. “Mom didn’t go to work today?” “She did, but I don’t mean mom. Someone else will take us”. “You mean Jonathan?” your brother was so emotional that he didn’t have to ride his bike that he completely forgot about his breakfast, while you were chewing lazy your toast looking out the window. “Oh no… it’s Robin. I don’t get in if it’s Robin, the boys are already waiting for me…”.

“Sit down” you pushed him back in the chair again. “It’s not Robin, it’s just… just wait”. “Wait for my own death? I don’t think so” Dustin snorted when Steve’s red BMW finally showed up on your street. You grabbed your backpack and your brother and you fell out, hearing the sounds of song of The Outfield from a distance. The boy got out of the car in full sunshine, with blushing cheeks, partly hidden behind sunglasses. He rested one of his hands on his hip, looking at you and Dustin, who desperately tried to close his mouth open out of surprise.

“Ready?” Steve asked impatiently. You were the first to run off the porch, running into the car and opening the back door for your brother. Dustin walked slowly into the car and got inside. “Since when do you drive Y/N to school?” Before Steve could put the keys in the ignition, Dustin leaned forward and the seatbelt was probably sticking in his neck. “You’re friends again? You’re dating? Is Y/N your girlfriend? Y/N, is Steve your boyfriend?”

“Shut up and lower down, because your face is all I see in the mirror” Steve sighned. You stopped laughing by leaning your forehead against the window glass when brown-eyed boy pulled your ear gently. Enough gently that it didn’t hurt, but enough to push you away from the door to turn around.

“Don’t breath on that, it’s expensive” the boy joked, moving off the driveway. “More expensive than your glasses?” Dustin snorted, already pulling sandwiches out of his backpack. “It should have been your second, not your first breakfast” you raised just one brow. “I didn’t get to eat the first one. I was too dazzled by the glow of that red paint” he said, looking around the inside of the car in admiration. “Why are we going with you?” “Steve… Steve suggested yesterday that since he drives every day in the same direction…” “I’m dating your sister” Steve blured out, answering you'r brother’s earlier questions. Dustin’s face was smiling wide, revealing his braces. He happily hit the back of your chair, sticking his little fists in your back.

“Holy shit!” Dustin whistled loudly into your ear. “Our little girl is grown up!” “I hate you” you looked at Steve with a killer eye, and he just shrugged his shoulder. “Why? I’m adorable” he snorted. “He should know. That’s how his morning’s gonna look every day from now”.

“Don’t shit” Dustin’s eyes went out. “Everyday? Troy will literally break out of jealousy”. “That’s what it’s all about. You don’t even know how the girls will react to you when you show up in a car like this. And in this company” Steve smiled proudly. A few minutes away and rocking your heads to his favorite pieces on the tape later you found yourself under the middle school building, where usually only parents would come, or the school bus. Steve looked outside with a disgust. “What’s the word for that infestation of tiny creatures over there?” “Those are children. That’s a school” you explained, blinking slowly. Dustin got off with looking like a ray of sunshine, he said something that sounded like goodbye and ran to his friends, looking at you with delight.

“I thought you told him” Steve shrugged his shoulder. “He would have guessed”. ”I know, but… he’s in love with you enough anyway. I don’t want him to be sorry afterwards when… you know” you said, like you didn’t care. Once you break up. Someday it will happen, and Dustin will be devastated when the red car and Steve are gone. He was his idol.

“Woah, slow down, slow down. We just started. We have a wonderful two months ahead of us. My company will light up your life. You’ll see. And the kid… kid will always be important to me, you know? I don’t know what will have to happen to change it” Steve said, drumming his fingers into the wheel. You smiled at yourself. Guess every girl would want her brother and boyfriend to get along, right? The two most important men in her life…

Except Steve’s not your real boyfriend. Why did it get so hard to remember every step of the way? Forgetting it is dangerous.

People’s looks are an integral part of going to school, so over time you can get used to them, but certainly not now. Not when literally everyone is staring at you with a laser in their eyes, when Steve embraces you with his shoulder, leaning in your ear from time to time to say something funny. His hands were everywhere. Of course not literally, but there was no way to go next to him without holding his hand, not to feel his arm on your waist. Physical contact was a priority if all of this was going to work.

“You’re doing pretty good” Steve said when you got to your locker. “I’m impressed”. “Thank you. Given that I don’t have any experience, it means a lot to me” you said, hiding books in your locker. “I still think it’s crazy, but I think it works, so…” “Crazy would think it wouldn’t work. You’ll see that Jonathan…” Steve broke off half the sentence. All of a sudden, the pictures and stickers inside your locker have become interesting to him. “Jonathan what?” you asked quietly, pressing the book to your chest. Steve coughed and took off his sunglasses, cleaning them with his T-shirt.

“Nancy is a great girl. But if he had looked around earlier, he would have found one, too” he murmured under his breath, without raising his eyes. He put his dark glasses on your head, and when they fell on your eyes, he laughed sincerely, correcting them again. He tried to get serious and pointed his finger at you, although the smile was still lurking in the corner of his mouth. “If you lose them, if you destroy them or scratch them… you’re ass is grass, Henderson. Is that clear?”

“Of course” you admited quickly, not wanting to upset him. Steve smiles brightly and leaned down to kiss your cheek. You heard the girls sighing behind you. Becky was standing by her locker too, clenching her hands firmly on her black pen, seeing the two of you. Steve stood back and pinched you in the nose. “I’ll see you later?” he asked, and you nod your head slowly. He left his way (without his glasses this time) but he turned around to wave to you at the end of the hallway. Your heart jumped a few times, banging on your ribs. That boy was so beautiful. And for a moment… for a few weeks, he could only be yours.

You twisted your head to drive the intrusive thoughts out of your head again and turned to go to your class, but you couldn’t go on. You were blocked by Nancy.

Bathrooms in schools are not the best place to talk, but the ladies’ bathrooms at least were cleaner than the boys’. Nancy sat with her legs crossed on cold tiles on the floor under the sinks, drawing tiny hearts with a pink marker on her notebook, listening to your story.

“I’m sorry that I only told Jonathan. He found out by coincidence” you said, suddenly feeling ashamed. A gentle smile appeared on your friend’s face, the marker froze over the white paper. “I hope you’re not angry at me”. “I’m not” Nancy twisted her head so hard that her curls covered her face for a moment. “For not telling me and for being with him. I wish you both the best. Steve is a wonderful guy. And you are a marvelous girl! I was just hoping you could give me some spicy details”.

“Spicy… details?” you repeated slowly, praying for someone to go to the toilet. “Oh, don’t be shy” Nancy kneeled down on her knees, leaning her hand against the sink above her to keep her balance. “How did that happen? Jonathan said you invited him on a date, so you have to tell me what happened. What were you doing? You guys already kissed each other, right?”

Details. How could you both be so stupid to not set a common version? If you say something else to Nancy… and he’ll say something different to his mates, you’ll bring suspicion on yourself. The school’s gonna start to be filled with false rumors. Think like Steve. What would Steve think…

“It’s just… somehow work out, you know?” you shrugged your shoulder innocently. You gave her a fake smile, feeling your thoughts trying to get ahead of each other on the highway in your brain. “We talked for a while during his training, so I suggested we can have lunch together the next day… and since then we’re inseparable”.

“You don’t even know how happy I am” Nancy squeezed your hand tight. Her small fingers have been warmly wrapped around your pale hand. “Since I started dating Jonathan… I was afraid you’d feel uncomfortable with us. Although you assured me that it’s not like that, I know how you must have felt sometimes. That doesn’t mean we didn’t want to spend time with you, don’t get me wrong. I just… I didn’t want you to be alone. Now I don’t have to worry anymore, right?”

“Yeah” you smiled at her. Nancy was always there for you, and she always wanted the best for you. Lying to her is not right. But if she doesn’t find out about Jonathan being more than friend that to you… you won’t break her heart. It’ll be worth it. Your own misery, for the happiness of a friend. Life is constant sacrifice. And you don’t always have to act selfishly. You’ll make sure Nancy is happy. You’ll make sure she’s happy like no one else.

“Y/N, someone’s ringing the doorbell!” Dustin screamed from his room, interrupting you from reading the book. You put it on your stomach. Mr. Darcy was just about to confess his love to Elizabeth Bennet, and there’s no way you’re gonna get out of bed until he does. If Mom was at work and her friends knew about it, it was definitely someone to your brother. Or to you.

“Why can’t you open the door?” you yelled, taking your legs off the wall. “I’m a little busy here! Just open the door!” your brother shouted. Mr Darcy had to wait for your reading to move forward. You came down the stairs, almost stepping on your cat, who, strangely enough, liked the lowest step. You opened the door wide, seeing Steve on the other side. He was wearing a black jacket, dark jeans, and his hair was perfectly up. If Mr Darcy had existed in the ‘80s, he’d probably look like him. But you’re not Elizabeth Bennet, so you shouldn’t allow yourself unnecessary comparisons.

“We supposed to see each other?” you asked, surprised, unable to take your eyes off his. “No, but I didn’t have your number, so I thought I’d come. Can I come in?” “Sure” you smiled, leading him inside. God, when was he last here? You remembered that his favorite hiding place was between the wall and your mom’s chair. That he once couldn’t reach the shelf in the fridge with the chocolate milk on it. Now he was taller than the fridge. He watched everything with curiosity, as if he wanted to see how much of what he remembers had changed. You didn’t know he saw the biggest change in you. He remembered when you once hit your head so hard on the stair railing that a big purple bruise stayed on your skin for weeks. Now there was no trace of it. Even if there was, it wouldn’t matter. Looking at you, in a striped shirt with flushed cheeks, Steve thought you were just adorable.

“As I was saying” Steve leaned lazy against the table top. He took an apple from a fruit bowl and tossed it a couple of times in his hand. “I didn’t have your number, and my teammate Evan is having a party today. I was gonna go, but… but if you can’t, or don’t want to, I’ll understand”. “Why can’t you go alone?” you asked, genuinely surprised. Steve stopped tossing the apple.

“Because, Henderson, you’re my girlfriend. I’m not going anywhere without you” he said. The corners of your mouth turned up. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Isn’t it too early to introduce me to your friends?” you asked. Of course it wasn’t too early. But the vision of Steve coming with you to the party, drinking alcohol with him, leaning lazy on his chest while sitting on the couch literally terrified you. “I don’t know if Jonathan’s going there, but parties are in the contract. A deal is a deal, Henderson. I’ll wait until you get changed”.

“Okay… but I can’t be home late” you said firmly, going up the stairs. “What do you mean by saying 'late’? You need to be a little more specific”. “Midnight. We’ll be home at 12:30 pm, and I’ll go to bed at 1:30 am. So we have to go out at midnight” you smiled proud of your own calculations. Steve twisted his head with disbelief. A corner of his mouth lifted. How could he disagree? He’s gonna bring you here at midnight, even if he’s gonna go over the speed limit to do it.

“Let it be, Cinderella. Before your carriage turns into pumpkin, you’ll be home”. “I thought your car was red, not orange” you joked, running up the stairs. You stopped halfway up and turned to the boy who bit into the apple. Mews only now turned her attention to him, raising her head from over her thick fur.

“Are you legal to drink yet?” you asked, squinting your eyes. Steve moved the fruit away from his mouth. “You’re serious? The fake ID in my wallet says I am” he said, raising his shoulders. “I can work with that” you nodded your head and ran upstairs. Steve laughed quietly, unable to be not surprised. He and Y/N Henderson are going to a party together. This is going to be an interesting night.

Taglist: @krazykatkay456 @mochminnie @ghostineleven @sydzygy @queen1054

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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averyrogers83 · 5 years

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Innocent

Title: Innocent Author: @averyrogers83 Warnings: Stalking, angst, violence, death, implied smut, bad language *please do not read this if any of these are triggers* Dark Fic Word Count: 1607 Pairings: Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson, Brock Rumlow Square Filled: Stalker (@star-spangled-bingo) Lawyer (@marvelbingo2019) Prompt: “I wish I knew how to quit you” for @sunmoonandbucky #1.5constellationswritingchallenge Summary: Sam were on trial for murder and the only way to win was to hire the best defense attorney. A/N: This is purely fictional. I am so sorry that this is long overdue, much like many of my stories. This is for my submission to @star-spangled-bingo Bingo Card and @marvelBingo2019 and of course @sunmoonandbucky’s writing challenge. Again please do not read this if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable or are triggers.

Present Day:

“So let me get this right Sam, you’re telling me that Brock Rumlow a prosecuting attorney that you worked with and later on dated was stalking you and broke into your home on the night in question.”

“Yes, that is correct.” replied Sam

“At any time did you feel like Brock was the stalker in question?”

“No. I didn’t even give him a second thought after he left the firm.” Sam words got shaky “Brock often times would ask me out, but after turning him down repeatedly, he just gave up. Then one night when my blind date never showed up I...I” Sam stammered through his words

***************************************************************************************************

Flashback: Two Years Ago

Sam had just finalized the last of the paperwork on his latest case and was about to head home. It had been a long week and all he wanted to do was attend to that chilled bottle of wine that had been calling his name. On the way to the elevator he was stopped by Brock Rumlow. Brock had tried several times since Sam started at the firm to get him to go out on a date, but each time Sam refused, using excuses of workload, meetings, or simple exhaustion. There was just something about the guy that didn’t sit well with him. It was probably the way Sam would catch Brock eyeing him up and down like he was a piece of meat rather than a person, a plaything.

He could feel his body cringe as Brock walked towards him, praying he wouldn’t ask him out again.

“Hey, congrats on your big win today. If anyone could put that scumbag away it’s you.”

“Um thanks, Rumlow. Well have a good weekend” as Sam continued to the elevator.

“Hey, Sam are you busy tomorrow night?” Scott asked as he rushed to get into the small metal box with Sam.

“No, what’s going on?” Sam asks as the two of them rode down to the lobby floor.

By the time they had gotten to the lobby Scott had convinced him to go on a blind date. Something about an old friend who had just moved to the area.

The next night, dressed in his sharpest Black suit, Sam made his way to the agreed upon meeting place. He never liked the idea of someone he had never met knowing where he lived.

He ended up waiting at the bar for over an hour but the guy never showed. Figures it was just his luck. This is why he never went out and spent most of his time engrossed in work. He hated the dating scene, it was so...trite.

Sam was on his way out when walked right into the one person he wish Sam hadn’t.

“Fancy meeting you here Wilson, I thought you had a hot date…”

“Look Rumlow, I’m really not in the mood” Sam cut him off.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it...how about I buy you a drink...just one that’s it.”

As much as he really didn’t want to, he had to admit that Brock wasn’t being the usual asshat, besides he had gotten all dressed up.

“Fine” Sam conceded, “one drink and that’s it.”

One turned into two, then three. Sam’s opinion of the man before had changed from disgust to intrigue. It had been so long since he had been on a date and was actually having fun. Sam learned a lot about Brock Rumlow that night, from where he grew up to some of his most embarrassing moments in life. By the end of the night the two of them were leaving the bar together and going back to his place. That night Brock made him feel things he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

***************************************************************************************************

Present Day:

“You hooked up. Did you go back to your place or his?”

“His. After awhile I thought the guy had changed and we started dating, but after about six months he became too controlling.”

“How so?”

“Every time I turned around Brock was there. If I didn’t come home at a certain time he would call me, when I got home he’d be there even though we weren’t living together. I just couldn’t take it anymore so I broke up with him.”

“And how did he react to that?”

“He was upset at first, but then I thought he had gotten over it because he wasn’t constantly coming around me in the office, wasn’t constantly calling or texting me. I later found out that he had left the firm. Then after about a month, maybe two..I started…” Sam looked down at his hands that had been playing with the hem of his shirt..

**************************************************************************************************

Flashback: One Year Ago

Just as Sam thought things were getting back to normal, he began receiving anonymous letters, first at his office, which Sam just ended up throwing aside not giving it much thought, but then they started arriving at his home, mentioning things about what he was wearing or doing, or how they noticed the new painting on the wall. It was unnerving, he became paranoid. Constantly looking over his shoulder, feeling as though someone was following him, watching him.

Things quickly escalated from there. He’d come home to find his bedroom window left unlocked or slightly open. He felt unsafe and on edge, he resorted to buying a gun and keeping it in the nightstand. Every night when he got home he’d check and re-check to make sure all the windows and doors were securely locked.

He barely slept, dreams of an unknown form standing watch over him at the foot of his bed would jar him out of sleep and keep him awake.

**************************************************************************************************

Present Day:

Faint voices echoed in his head pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Mr. Wilson...Mr. Wilson do you need to take a break?”

“Um..wha..I’m sorry?” Sam’s eyes screwed shut as they tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

“I asked if you needed a break”

Sam cleared his throat, “no, I’m fine”

“You said that you got home that night and made sure that all the doors and windows were locked before you went to bed. Is that correct.”

“Yes”

“How can you be sure that you didn’t miss a window?”

“Because I checked them all three times. It became a ritual to make sure there were locked when I got home, again after I ate, and then again just before bed.”

“What happened next?”

Sam could feel himself get agitated at the thought of what came next. His mouth went dry so he took a sip of water, but it didn’t relieve the tension. He felt like his throat would close up any minute as he thought back…..

***************************************************************************************************

That Night:

He had just fallen asleep when he felt the bed move, but before he could do anything a heavy figure had pinned him down and was covering his mouth. Sam could feel the full weight of the intruder on top of him and as much as he tried he couldn’t move.

Sam could feel his attacker’s hot breath on his skin as he leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“I tried, damn it I tried” his voice seething with venom “I wish I knew how to quit you, but I can’t...I can’t get you out of my damn mind.”

Sam’s eyes went wide, tears spilling as he willed himself to stay calm and when Brock moved just enough to allow Sam to wiggle free, Sam took that opportunity to push Brock off of him and grab the lamp. Unfortunately it only made Brock angier. Sam jerked the drawer of the nightstand open only to find it empty.

“You looking for this” Brock sneered as he waved his own gun at him. His fight or flight instincts kicked in and Sam ran towards Brock and knocked him off his feet, the gun flying from Brock’s hand as the two struggled on the floor, each trying to grasp for the gun until he heard it...the echo of a gunshot rang in his ears and he saw the shock on Brock’s face as gasped for air. His body slumped over as Sam saw the life slowly fade from his eyes.

Pushing his body off of him, Sam’s heart raced, his ears rang, and his mind raced. It seemed like forever before he was able to take some sense of control over his mind and body and forced himself up off the floor and grabbed his phone. His hands stained with blood shook as he struggled to dial those three simple numbers.

****************************************************************************************************

Present Day:

It seemed like hours since Sam was on the stand, recounting what had happened to him. His hands shook as he sat in a holding room as they waited for the jury to return with their verdict. He knew in his heart he did nothing wrong. It was self defense, that’s what Steve said. So sure that Sam would be found innocent even if he didn’t.

A few more minutes had passed before they were called back into the courtroom and the verdict given. “Innocent” the word barely registered in Sam’s head till Steve clasped his shoulder and smiled.

Sam was grateful for having Steve in his corner not only as his lawyer, but a friend. Because of Steve he was free. Free to go back to his life, but would Sam ever be truly free; free from seeing a life slip away. Yes he was found innocent, but he’d still have to live with the guilt of taking another man’s life.

@sunmoonandbucky @shield-agent78 @hotoffthepressfics @buckysforeverprincess @chuuulip @dj-lowkey @patzammit @drakelover78

#1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge #sam wilson #brock rumlow #Steve Rogers #star spangled bingo #ssb2019 #marvel bingo 2019

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ejbarnes · 6 years

Photo

Progress report on Spirits & Seekers: Cagliostro in Courland:

A few weeks ago, I did something overdue (and posted about it): I sketched a conjectural floor plan for the second floor of the Mitau (Jelgava) mansion of Count Johann von Medem, Baroness Elisa von der Recke’s father. (Yesterday I revised this layout again, see top image. Absent an actual floor plan of Johann’s mansion turning up, that probably settles it. Johann’s mansion was destroyed in WWII and all that survives are photos, including some interiors that were clearly re-done in the 19th century.) I realized that what this meant was that a page I’d already painted of Spirits & Seekers had to change. The scripts says the blue canopy under which Elisa and her female relatives are initiated as Egyptian Freemasons by “Countess” Seraphina di Cagliostro is in the Great Hall at Johann’s house, but I just made something up and didn’t even think about how the tent would be oriented in what is the largest function room -- in other words, the ballroom -- in the mansion. Moreover, I completely overlooked the obvious fact about this room that is clear from photos of the exterior of the building: That the center window is actually a set of French doors exiting onto a small balcony facing the river. So I’m re-painting that panel, which is fortunately (so far) the only one of its kind. In the first (2017) version of this panel (2nd image above), I showed a doorway behind and showed part of the chandelier that illuminates the scene, in the 2018 version (3d image), not only are the colors deeper, but I’ve simplified the scenery. However, since there will be subsequent scenes in this space, I have returned to the busier rococo look I was trying for the first time around -- and it’s clear that (a) the space is large enough to serve as a ballroom (Cagliostro’s first séance with the von Medems will be here), and (b) the tent is centered along the long axis of the room. I’ve also gone back to including sconces and bits of chandelier, which will help in keeping my focus on where the light sources are when I paint this.

#Spirits and Seekers #Count Cagliostro #Cagliostro #Elisa von der Recke #Johann von Medem #Seraphina di Cagliostro #Egyptian Freemasonry #Mitau #Jelgava #watercolor #pencils

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sodoyouknowbts · 6 years

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Jungkook x Reader - Game On! (Eleven)

Summary: Jungkook was the boy you had always had a crush on but after an event that leaves you heartbroken and humiliated, you cut him from your life. However, years later your paths cross again and now an adult, you swear to not let him get the better of you.

Genre: Romance, drama,

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Author: Moxie

Chapter 11

Your mum hadn't messed around when it came to the renovation. Glancing around, you finally understood why it had taken as long as it did to be completed. Your eyes moved around the new lounge room, which she had widened by taking up a portion of the backyard. The walls, which had previously separated the lounge room, dining area and kitchen had all been knocked down, leaving the area feeling vast and open. It didn’t just stop there though. The entire house, as you had noted the minute you walked through the front door, had been re-done. The walls were re-painted, the carpets were ripped up and replaced with shiny new floorboards - the shade of warm oak - and the kitchen had also been upgraded; the sparkling new double bowl sink and electric stove top replacing what was previously there.

When asked, your mother had merely shrugged her shoulders and said that "It was long overdue".

Thankfully, your room remained much the same, with the only difference being that you now had a fresh coat of paint on your walls, white instead of the previous yellow-cream colour. You had never paid much mind to the old colour, so this change didn’t bother you whatsoever. Everything else though, was just as you had left it, much to your relief. Although it did cross your mind for a second as to what the workers had thought of a woman having that many stuffed toys in their room. Then again, there was no way they would know how old you were so the embarrassment was short lived.

You settled into your room and unpacked your bags. After your phone call with your mother things had moved along quickly. The next day you had packed your things and moved out of Jungkook's house. As you gathered the last of your things and glanced around at the empty bedroom, you felt a twinge of sorrow. Without your things scattered around it was as if you had never been there at all. Any trace of you had gone with your things. You found yourself wanting to leave behind a memento; proof that your time with Jungkook had happened and that you had been there.

The thought had surprised you as much as it had scared you. The past few weeks with Jungkook had been a roller coaster. He was a tyrant and a brat, always rolling his eyes at you and telling you off for not cleaning up after yourself. But he wasn’t always cold. When he wasn’t determined to keep you away, he was kind and gentle. He made you laugh. Before you knew it, you had been looking forward to the nights he was home and you ate dinner together. Unconsciously, you had even started to watch your shows outside in the lounge room, just so you could be near him.

When you had told Jungkook about the house being finished, he had been his usual self, still in whatever mood he was in but he had been gentlemanly enough to offer to drop you home. He even offered to carry your suitcase to the car but you had politely declined. The car ride had been relatively quiet, with you striking up a conversation every now and then again about the weather or the flow of traffic. His reaction wasn't what you had expected at all. You had thought that surely he would be relieved and even happy that you were moving out but instead he seemed quite pensive and dare you say it, moodier than usual. His responses were short and clipped and so you hadn't pushed him much after that. You didn't bother to hide your disappointment when he dropped you off with merely a polite goodbye and a promise to see each other at work. Clearly, whatever had gotten him into that mood had not been resolved.

Looking around your room you were glad to be home. You had missed the familiarity of your house and everything in it. You also missed having access to your entire wardrobe. It was tough living out of a suitcase and you were just beginning to grow tired of wearing the same four outfits to work. Slipping into your pyjamas, you crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to your chin.

As you stared up at your ceiling, the same one you had been staring at for the last ten years, you wondered what Jungkook was doing at that moment.

Probably throwing a celebration party.

Jungkook entered in his pass code and at the sound of the beep and the lock sliding open, he pushed open the door to his apartment. He kicked off his gym sneakers and made his way through the apartment. He had purposely left the blinds open and the entire apartment was bathed in moonlight, streaming through from the wide floor-to-ceiling windows that took up an entire wall of his living room.

As he made his way down the hallway towards the kitchen, the down lights flickered to life, one by one. It was a handy system that he had paid a mint to install. It saved him the effort of having to turn on and off lights himself. He dumped his gym bag onto the kitchen counter top before proceeding to the fridge. It was completely silent except for the sound of his feet tapping lightly against the floorboards.

He stopped before the fridge and glanced at the note that you had written the day you had left. It was still there, even though it had been two days. For some reason Jungkook couldn't bring himself to throw it away.

You had written a simple message, complete with a smile face and a peace sign. Thank you for letting me stay Don't forget to relax and have fun every now and again!! And no, the gym doesn't count.

He smiled softly to himself as he read the last line again. You were such a dork sometimes.

Pulling open the fridge, Jungkook grabbed a water bottle and kicked it closed with his foot. As he unscrewed the cap, he slowly walked over to the couch in the living room and sat down, propping his feet up onto the ottoman. Bringing the water bottle to his lips, he took a sip and stared outside at the kaleidoscope of lights from the buildings and street lights, illuminating the night sky.The view of the city was one of the main reasons that he had purchased the apartment.

It was peaceful and except for the sound of a car horn every now and again, relatively quiet. It was just how he liked it. Silent. Except for some reason, the peace and quiet that he once found comforting ,now felt suffocating. He missed the sound of the television being on and the sound of whatever movie or show you were watching filling up the apartment.

Leaning his head back, so that it rested on the edge of the couch, Jungkook closed his eyes and let our an exasperated sigh. What the hell am I thinking?

Three and a half years ago

Jungkook's foot caught onto something and he stumbled as he walked through his front door. He glanced down and found a pair of heels thrown haphazardly in front of the door, right in front of his path. He sighed in defeat and shook his head, a fond smile on his lips, as he bent down and straightened them, lining them up by the wall along with the other shoes and slippers. It was a terrible habit that no matter how times she tried, she just couldn't seem to shake.

With his path free, Jungkook slipped off his own shoes. As he entered the house, he slipped off his navy blue blazer and his grey tie. Draping them over a kitchen stool he glanced around the house. Faintly, he heard the sound of music filtering through the walls, coming from the workshop. A love song. His smile grew as he quietly followed the soft melody, the music growing louder as he got closer.

As he opened the door and glanced around the "workshop" or more accurately the room where she worked and painted, he took in all the vast colours and pictures, spread across multiple canvases, each one a different size from the other. His eyes stopped in the middle of the room where she sat, just as she usually did. Her back was turned to him and she was sitting in front of an easel, her clothes covered by an apron that was once white but was now decorated in various splatters of paint. He watched as she tilted her head, staring at the canvas, the way she did when she was trying to envision something and then she dipped her brush into her paint.

Jungkook loved to watch her paint. It was the first thing about her that he had fallen in love with and the first thing that had captured his eye.

"How long are you going to stare at me for?"

Her voice carried over the music and Jungkook smiled unabashedly at having been caught staring. He pushed himself away from the door-frame and walked towards her. His steps lazy. "How long have you known I was there?". He asked.

"You know you can never sneak up on me" she smiled, dipping her paintbrush into another colour. "Even when we were little, you never could".

Jungkook wrapped his arms around her shoulders, feeling her soft and silky skin. He crouched down and placed a kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. Apples. He loved the smell of apples. "It always used to annoy me how you always saw me coming. I could never scare you".

At Jungkook’s touch, she stopped painting and placed the paintbrush down. She turned in her seat and lifted her head up to face him. "Your back early. How was work?".

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, feeling her smile grow. "Work was work. Mother is a tyrant as always. But I've been given the green light. The board is going to step down and starting tomorrow I’m going manager the company all on my own".

"That's great news, congratulations! God knows you deserve it, you’ve worked so hard to get this company to where it is now". She clapped her hands together in excitement and stood up. “There’s no way they could have done it without you”.

Jungkook's hands slid down from her shoulders and made their way to her waist. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer towards him. "This also means I'll have to start staying back and work longer hours. I hope you don't mind?".

She chuckled softly and rose to the tops of her toes, brushing her lips against his in a teasing kiss. "I don't mind as long as my fiance comes home to me each night".

"I'll always come home to you". His brought his lips back down to hers and deepened the kiss.

Jungkook jerked awake suddenly. He sat up slowly and glanced around, trying to get a hold of his bearings. He was in the lounge room, still in his gym clothes, the bottle of water forgotten by his side where it must have fallen from his grasp when he dozed off. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows onto his knees and exhaled deeply. He dropped his head forward into his hands and swore under his breath.

Mina.

He hadn't thought of Mina in a while. The dream had seemed so vivid and had felt so real that it was almost as if he had gone back in time. Shit. The last thing he wanted to do was to start having flashbacks of the past. Clearly, being around you was having an affect on him.

Fuck.

He had to stay away.

You stood in line at the coffee shop across from work and waited until it was your time to order. While you waited, you glanced hungrily at the selection of cakes and muffins in the display case. They looked delicious and it was incredibly tempting but you remained strong. You and your work friend were on a sugar cleanse for the week. his latest diet craze and so far, you were hanging in there. Even if it was only by a thread.

You let out a sleepy yawn and quickly bring you hand up to cover your mouth. Last night had been tough. Your neighbours had recently gotten a dog and it had spent the entire night fighting with the other neighbour's dog. All night, you had been kept awake by the sounds of loud barking. By the time you had managed to drift off you guessed that it would've been close to two AM. As a result, you had been struggling to stay awake all morning and your eyes refused to stay open. Your eyelids felt as though they weighed a tonne and it seemed as though you had spend more effort trying to stay awake than actually doing any work.

You give in to their heavy weight and close your eyes just for a second, resting them. It must have been more than a second because the next minute someone was clearing their throat.

"The line is moving".

Your eyes jerk open at the sound of the voice and sure enough when you look ahead of you, the line has progressed and there's now a large gap between you and the person before you. You quickly step forward. You turn around to thank the person behind you and find that it is Manager Won. He flashes you a grin and you smile back politely, praying that he doesn't try to strike up a conversation with you.

You still haven't managed to shake off your apprehension towards him and after what happened last time in the meeting room, you made it a point to avoid him and not initiate any conversation. Of course, you were still polite and responded whenever he spoke to you, however you made sure to keep the conversations as brief as possible and strictly about business.

His smile grow and his eyes scan your appearance, noting the bags underneath your eyes. "Late night?". You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your bare legs, giving you the creeps.

With an expression of perfect politeness, you nod your head in affirmation. "Yeah, I didn't get much sleep last night, unfortunately". You purposely make your response close ended. Short and sweet. If you were lucky then the conversation will naturally die with your response.

Unfortunately for you, it appears that Manager Won is in a talkative mood today. He nods his head sympathetically. "You poor thing. You look exhausted" he coos. To accompany his words, he lifts his right hand up to your neck and curls it around the back of your neck. The moment his hand wraps around your neck and you feel the tips of his fingers slip underneath the collar of your blouse, every alarm bell in your head goes off. Your entire body tenses up at the intrusion and every cell in your body stands up in alert. Okay, this isn't good. You fight the wave of revulsion and barely manage to keep it from showing on your face.

You're a better actress than you think because Manager Won appears to be completely unaware of your response. He proceeds to moves his fingers into circular motions, massaging the back of your neck as if it is the most natural thing to do between a manager and their staff.

"You're so tense" He comments. "I can feel all your knots". His voice is sickly sweet to your ears and it makes your stomach churn.

His touch feels cold and slimy on your skin and you immediately shift away to the side. The movement is slight but it works in removing his hand. At the same time, the line moves and you're finally second in line to be served. You take this opportunity to step away from him and place some distance between the two of you.

Everything in you is screaming at you to get away but your need for caffeine is greater and you know that there's no way you were going to survive the rest of the day without a coffee. Add to that, the stubborn side of you refused to leave, especially since you’ve waited in line until now.

You decide to change the subject and steer it towards something safe, not liking the current vibe. "The weather is nice today" you comment, nodding towards the open windows of the cafe. The weather had cooled down noticeably, a much welcomed reprieve from the heat that had lingered around for the past week. It was still relatively warm but you no longer had to worry about your shirt sticking to your back or sitting on the edge of the chair so that your thighs don't stick and leave behind a dreaded sweat patch. It baffled you how Jungkook managed to survive in his suits. Sure the office was nice and cool, thanks to the air conditioning but outside was a different matter. The man is a freak.

Your attempts at changing the subject and getting things back to a professional level fall on deaf ears. Manager Won takes your comment as a cue to stare at your skirt. It's a modest, knee length pencil skirt but the way his eyes were looking at you so intently, you might as well have been wearing a mini skirt. You discretely move your bag so that it falls in front of you. It didn't work to cover your legs but it made you feel better having a barrier between the two of you.

Manager Won makes an appreciative sound in the back of his throat. "Yes it has cooled down, but I'm glad it's still skirt weather. You always look so nice and pretty in skirts. It shows off your pretty legs".

You force a small smile at his remark, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. "Thank you" you reply back politely, even though the comment makes you want to cringe. You make a mental note to stop wearing skirts from tomorrow on wards.

I don't care how hot it is. This is getting ridiculous and out of hand. You think to yourself.

Thankfully, you're saved from further unease when the person in front of you places their order and leaves with a muffin. You send a quick "see you back at the office" to Manager Won and turn away before he can respond, half-running to the counter, anxious to get away from him.

By the time you had made it back to your desk, your mind was made up. You were going to do something about Manager Won. The more you had thought about it on the walk back to the office, the more you realised that what he was doing was not acceptable. You had initially brushed off his attention, thinking that they were accidents and that they were harmless but as time passed, he still hadn't let up and it was becoming more and more apparent that he wasn’t planning to stop.

You waited until it was almost the end of the day before you walked up to the see the human resource officer, whose office just happened to be on the same level as Jungkook's. You had spent the rest of the afternoon combing through the company manual and reading the codes of conduct. Whilst it didn't provide a clear outline of what constitutes sexual harassment, you figured that someone making unwanted remarks counted.

As your rode the elevator, you went over again in your head what you were going to say. You weren't planning on filing a report, that much you were sure of. As much as Manager Won made you feel uncomfortable and gave you the creeps, he hadn't done anything to make you feel scared or worried. All in all, you just wanted his comments to stop. Unfortunately though, you weren't sure of what to say to him so you figured that the best thing to do is speak with the Human resource manager and get their ideas.

Once the elevator arrived, you walked out and headed directly towards their office. With each step your heart sped up and your nerves wavered. On your way there you glance towards Jungkook's office. His door is closed, to your disappointment, so you can't see him. However you do make eye contact with his secretary, so you give them a wave with they reciprocate with a friendly smile.

With sweaty palms, you approach the HR officer's room and even though the door is slightly ajar, you raise your fist and knock. Two swift raps of your knuckles. You have only met the HR officer once and that was on the day of your orientation when Manager Choi had shown you around the office. You had been introduced to an extremely tall woman who towered over you and if you had to guess, looked to be in her mid thirties. She had an ordinary face and her hair was cut into a stylish bob and dyed a striking shade of platinum blonde.

"Oh hello there!" She greets cheerfully, looking up from whatever she had been reading. "This is a pleasant surprise. Please come in. Take a seat". She gestures to one of the two chairs facing her table and you gratefully sit down. Once you're settled she folds her hands in front of her on the desk and smiles. "What brings you down to HR? Is everything alright?"

You had rehearsed your words on the entire way up here however now when it's the moment of truth you couldn't, for the life of you, remember what is was that you were going to say. Taking in a deep breath, you decide to dive straight in.

"Everything’s fine, I'm just curious about something" you start. Your voice cracks and you swallow, mustering up your courage. Your hands feel unbearably sweaty and you nervously wipe them on your skirt. "If...say for example, just hypothetically...um there's someone, a male, who sometimes says things that make me feel sort of...um uncomfortable, is there anything I can do about it?. Oh but I don't want to like report it or anything. I mean it's nothing serious" you quickly add sensing the mood in the room shift.

“Well...” She says, leaning forward onto her forearms. Her voice is serious but it doesn't loose it’s friendly tone. “If that were the case, hypothetically, then this is the best place to go to. In this company we have a zero tolerance for prejudice or marginalisation of any kind and we believe that everyone should be treated equal and that no one should feel unsafe. This is after all, where you spend five days out of every week, eight hours a day”. Her expression makes it clear that she doesn’t believe that you’re asking purely out of curiously.

She senses your hesitation and continues talking. “If, by some unfortunate circumstance, someone feels that they are receiving unwanted attention, the first thing that would happen is that I would sit down with that person and explain to them how the other party is feeling. However if the behavior continues despite this, it will then be escalated and a meeting will be organised between myself, as the mediator and the parties involved. In the end though, it’s my priority to make sure everyone feels as though they are working in a safe environment”.

There’s something about the way she talks that makes you feel as though you can open up to her. Maybe it’s her eyes or her kind smile? Either way before you realise what you’re doing, your mouth is already forming the words. “It’s probably nothing but sometimes...I don’t know...sometimes Manager Won makes me feel...not very comfortable”. You try to string your thoughts into a coherent sentence. You hesitate after mentioning Manager Won’s name and glance up to try and gage her reaction but her face remains the same. Her smile never wavering.

“Go on, it’s okay. This is a safe zone. What you say in here doesn’t leave this room” She reassures you gently. “How does he make you feel uncomfortable?”

You glance down at your hands in your lap. “Um..it might not be anything but sometimes he’ll stand really close to me. Like whenever he’s talking to me or something and other times he’ll touch me. Like his hand will brush my leg and stuff. Or he’ll say something slightly inappropriate. I don’t know” You shrug your shoulders. “Maybe I’m being silly. I mean this could probably all be a misunderstanding but I just thought that if I said something...” You raise your eyes.

“You’re not being silly” she replies. “Of course I will do everything to help you. You did the right thing coming to see me”.

Already it feels as though a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You hadn’t realised just how much this was weighing on your mind until now. “Thank you so much for listening to me”. You push your chair back and stand up. Before you turn to leave you stop and turn back around to face her. “I don’t want Manager Won to get into trouble or anything. I mean I don’t want to make a report or anything, I would just like it to stop and I’m not sure how to go about it” You clarify.

She nods her head in understanding. “Of course, I completely understand. Don’t worry, leave this with me”.

You smile in gratitude and turn to leave.

The next day at work, you’re a bundle of nerves. You had felt relieved after your talk with the HR officer however on the ride home you had begun to worry. What if you had done the wrong thing? What if you had only managed to make the situation worse?. The entire day you’re on edge, jumping at the slightest noise and movement. Every time someone called out your name, you half expected it to be Manager Won. However by the end of the day and with zero incidents with Manager Won, you realise that it’s just your mind overreacting.

The next day goes by much the time.

By Friday, your mood has lifted and for the first time since the talk, you feel like you can breathe again. You had run into Manger Won twice and both times he was polite. Not once did he do anything inappropriate and it seemed that the HR officer handled the situation, just as she said she would.

“What are you smiling about?” Your work friend asks you, seeing the way you were smiling at your computer screen.

“Nothing” You shake your head and change the subject. “So, do you have any plans for the weekend?”

Your friend looks seemingly unconvinced at your change of subject but he lets you off. “Not much” He shrugs. “I’ve got a friend’s birthday party tomorrow, so we’re going out for dinner. Other than that, nothing. What about yourself?”

“I’ve got a hot date with Netflix and a tub of ice cream. I’m going to laze all day on my couch”.

“Nice, sounds fun. I’m jealous”. Your friend jokes. He shuts down his computer and stands up, stretching his arms above his head. “You ready to go now?”

You glance around the office and note that except for the two of you and Manager Won, every one has already gone home for the day. It was about thirty minutes past six and since it’s Friday, most of the department had gone out for Friday drinks. You and your friend had decided to stay back. You, wanting to finish all your work and your friend, not feeling in the mood for drinking.

“Yep, ready”. You shut down your computer and bend down to reach for your bag. “Let’s get out of here”

On your way out Manager Won pops his head out of his office and stops the both of you. “Oh great, you’re still here” He addresses you. “Would I be able to grab you for a quick second? I just want to go over something”.

For a split second, a sense of apprehension grips you but it quickly goes away. He probably wants to talk about the latest report. You calm yourself down. “Yeah, sure no problem” you reply and turn to your friend. “You should probably go on ahead. I’ll see you on Monday?”.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll see you on Monday. Bye” He waves goodbye to you and then to Manager Won. “Bye sir, see you on Monday”.

“See you on Monday”. Manager Won nods his head and bids your friend goodbye. Once your friend has left you turn around to Manager Won who has a hand on his door, holding it open for you.

“So, what did you need to talk to me about?” you ask, as you walk into his office and glance back.

You watch as he shuts the door to his office and for some reason, the sense of apprehension returns to you. Usually he kept the door to his office open, unless it was extremely noisy outside or if he was discussing important business. Your heart clenches and your pulse starts to race. Your eyes shift from him to the door. There’s no reason for him to close the door now, especially since there’s only the two of you in the office. Unless...

“Is everything alright, sir?”. The question comes out as little more than a whisper.

“No, I don’t believe everything is alright” he mutters coldly. The sound sends a chill down your spine. You had never heard him use this tone before and it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Slowly he turns around and faces you. The moment you see his face, your stomach drops. All the humour and friendliness in his face has disappeared, replaced instead by a harshness. He stares at you with an expression that is almost cruel and feral and fear settles over you. This isn’t the Manager Won that you know.

This is a man who scares you.

“You’ve been busy now haven’t you?” He sneers disdainfully.

To Be Continued.

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios

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peachyharold · 7 years

Text

‘Friends’

MASTERLIST

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

* * *

Music was thundering throughout the place, the heavy beat of drums and deep bass strums were resonating around the apartment and you could feel the floor vibrate from underneath your feet. Your stomach dropped and you could feel the pit of your belly clench at a particularly loud bash and your gaze flew to the trio of young men who were currently providing a live cover of Mr. Brightside - the ultimate party rock anthem.

The plastic red solo cup quivers in your fingers and the murky brown cheap beer ripples in time to the rhythm, you bring the chewed cup lip to your mouth once again and with a grimace you hack another gulp. The bitter mixture causes your face to scrunch in distaste and a wet cough passes your lips before you raise a hand to smother it.

You glance around the apartment and from across the room you spot him, your best friend Harry - the reason why you were not currently sat on your sofa swamped in blankets binging a re-run of Friends. You have to admit, that boy was really bloody convincing when it came to getting you to do things you didn't want to, like going to this party for example. Harry had promised you a dance together, a safe lift there and home, and that he would not ditch you.

That pact hit the floor the second he stepped through the door. In seconds, Harry's hand had been pried from yours by his week old girlfriend (not before she shot you a snotty glare) leaving me in the hallway alone, surrounded by drunk strangers who all seemed to claim a sense of loyalty to Harry as they high fived him while he strolled through the apartment.

From afar, you can't help but watch Harry and his girlfriend. He's sitting on the sofa and she's found a home in his lap, both completely oblivious to the people that surround them who are trying to socalise with them. They paint a picture of bliss, purity and love as she giggles at a remark Harry whispers into her ear; his fingers caressing her thigh, his thumb softly stroking her.

The sight leaves a bitter taste on your tongue and you knock back another drink. A sudden cheer from the crowd snaps you out of your trance and your eyes follow the source of everyone's excitment, but when you find Harry and the leggy brunette with their lips locked together you spin around so quickly that you're surprised you don't get whiplash.

You need fresh air.

After you shove your way past a herd of giggling drunk girls and hefty men, you find yourself in the corridor of the building. Using whatever engery remains, you crank open the the window at the end of the hall and stick your head out as you lap at the cold and refreshing air.

"Shake out of it, Y/N." You whisper to yourself and you close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Get yourself together."

"Watch it sunshine, don't blow away."

On cue, a sudden rush of warmth cradles your hips and you try not to react to Harry's comforting hands that rub soothing circles over your skin. A small smile plays at your lips but at the same time it pisses you off that he has such a subtle and calming effect over you.

Honestly though, you hate yourself more for falling for him - period.

"Whatch'a doin' out here anyway, love? The party's back in there?"

You send him a curt, forced grin.

"Just needed some fresh air is all."

You want to wince at how cold you sound.

Harry stops rubbing your skin, but the cold tips of his fingers are still ghosting over your hips as his fingertips leave a trace of his DNA.

"What's wrong, love? You can tell me anything Y/N, I'm your best friend..."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Harry is such a head fuck!

Best friend's don't just do that! Let me tell you - friends have boundaries but with Harry the lines are so blurred. He has a girlfriend but sometimes you swear his gaze lingers on your lips when yous are talking. Pals do not just call each other endearing pet names and hold each other how Harry holds you!

"Y/N, please ta-"

"Just leave me alone, Harry."

You can hear the pain in Harry's shaky inhale but he tugs your wrist and tries to get you to talk again.

"Y/N, you have to talk to me." He reiterates, concern lacing his voice.

"Go back to your girlfriend." You bite sourly, pulling away from his grasp and starting to walk down the hall. Your welcomed stay is now way overdue and you need to get out of the place before you say something you'll regret.

"Wha'? This is about Jen? Are yeh annoyed because ah left yeh for a second to say hi to her? God forbid ah spend some alon-"

"This is not about Jen, Harry. Wh- why would you even think that she's the issue?"

Harry has completely retracted now, his hands are crossed over his chest and he's staring at you. There's not much warmth in his eyes anymore and you're afraid that his misplaced irritation is only going to make you blurt out something you don't want to.

"Because! Because yeh always refuse to hang out with me when Jen is around it's like yeh hate her and ah can't have ma two favourite gals in some pet-"

Harry doesn't finish his sentence because in a split second you slam your lips onto his. His lips don't move, their stoic and blank against your own desperate chapped ones and you fear for a horrible moment that you're about to be completely rejected when Harry's lower lip drops. Suddenly he's sucking your bottom lip as he slips his tongue past your lips and your hand snakes around his neck to pull him closer.

Harry moans softly, his hot breath fanning over your wet lips and you rake a hand through his well gelled hair. Your head was spinning, behind your eyelids you were seeing stars and you realised this is how the universe was supposed to work.

It was always going to be you and Harry, right?

"Stop, stop..."

Wrong.

"This, this is no' right, Y/N. We're friends - best friends!"

And so the illusion is shattered. You watch as Harry runs a hand down his sweaty face, past his swollen lips you were kissing only moments ago and the look of terror and guilt that flashes across his features only spurs your anger.

"I'm fucking in love with you, Harry!" You shout, your inhibitions now numb. Harry jumps back in shock and his face falls, jaw almost scraping the floor. All he can muster is a simple, "What?"

"I, I'm in love with you Harry. Have been for a long time." You try not shake but your fingers twitch by your side. You will yourself not to cry.

"Y/N, I-I have a girlfriend..."

"Open your eyes Harry she's not right for you!" You cry, throwing your arms up. The tension in the corridor has doubled, tripled even and you're so glad Harry had a mind to close the door when he followed you out into the hallway otherwise yous would most definitely have a hungry crowd by now.

"Please tell me you feel something for me. Tell me I'm not an idiot and that you haven't been leading me on for these past few years of our friendship..." The begging tone in your voice is tragic, and you'd be so utterly embarrassed but Harry did kiss you back.

"Leading you on?"

"The pet names Harry! The touchy hugs - for god's sake you kissed me back! You can't tell me it was all platonic!"

Harry is silent, and all that can be heard is our heavy breathing, your jittery cries and muffled music. Harry's next words are quiet and tentative, you can tell he doesn't want to set you off.

"Y/N, it was a mistake... I-I don't think of yeh like tha', we're... we're just friends." The sympathy in his voice makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. You wish you never fell for Harry's empty promises.

"We're not just friends and you fucking know it!" You're screaming now, tears are rolling from your eyes and your will power has withered.

"We're best friends - remember?" Harry visible cringes at your sarcastic laugh and you smile.

"So just forget I said anything, go back to the party Harry. You have someone waiting for you."

You turn your back to him and after an agonizing minute, the sound of the apartment door opening then slamming shut sounds, and you squeeze your eyes as you stand alone.

You should've just stayed at home.

#Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb

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greatwrath · 7 years

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The Tenth Plague

By the spring of 1483 BC, Egypt was in the dreadful throes of the first five plagues cast down upon them by the God of Abraham. People sweltered and anguished beneath the summer sun, amidst the rot, the frogs, the lice and the carrion flies—and the Nile still ran crimson from the city of Swenett to the delta. Like veins, the red river bled into the smaller irrigation canals and killed every crop it touched. Starvation followed soon after for the humans and livestock, but not for the crocodiles that emerged from the river to pick through the carcasses of dead cattle.

Then, just when it seemed that the great Kingdom of Egypt couldn't become any more of a foetid hellscape, the boils came, as though the pestilence had been swept in by the Northern wind. The sixth plague set upon the population in a few short days, making quick work of the poor before overwhelming the upper rungs of Egyptian society as well. Soon, the beautiful faces of the Pharaohs Harem were marred by the pox; accompanied soon by every priest in the temple and every guard at the palace doors. Even the Pharaoh eventually succumbed to the sixth Plague.

Even while he clawed at his unsightly face in agony, he refused to surrender to the false God who lorded over him, regardless of the hells that would be inflicted upon the Kingdom. Instead, the Pharaoh sent troops to raid the slave settlements, where they terrorised the residents and hung the conspirators and instigators from the gallows.

God watched from above, enraged by the indignance of the Pharaoh; so He responded in kind and sent the most feared of his children to the palace at Thebes.

She came at dusk, entering the royal residence and bypassing the guards like mist through their fingers. Even in the humidity of summer, the Pharaoh and his advisors felt the chills as she approached, though they knew not from whence it came. The sun vanished beyond the horizon, and the city became dark, save for the light of the torches, when a pair of silver eyes opened amidst the shadows of the hypostyle hall. The owner of said eyes stepped closer and closer. Each step brought them nearer to the light of the torch.

The Pharaoh summoned close his guards as the disembodied stare was joined by a pallid face, followed by great lengths of white hair, and then a body swathed in black cloth. It was a woman, but not at all in the traditional sense, not like the women of his Kingdom. Though her waxen skin appeared young, something about the woman struck him as ancient and alien; whether it was her piercing gaze or the regal way in which she moved as if she was balancing a heavy crown upon her immaculate silver head. The woman seemed to glide into view—grey eyes flashing dangerously and thin lips drawn into a tight line.

“Who is it that breaks into the palace to demand an audience with a King?” the Pharaoh answered, barely containing his rage.

“My name is not important, God King,” She replied truthfully.

The Pharaoh’s guards moved, thrusting their sharpened spears towards her, only to find themselves disarmed by an invisible force and launched back against the wall behind them. The Pharaoh watched on as their fragile bodies collided with the solid stone; their bones cracking and flesh tearing on impact.

“Are words such a threat to you?” Azrael inquired as she lowered her hands.

“Guards!” The Pharoah cried out for reinforcements as the women advanced.

“This message is four hundred years overdue,” She said. “And you will listen.”

“Message about what?” Thutmose demanded, eyes narrowed and jaw tense.

“The Israelites you are using to build the naval bases at Perunefer,” Azrael explained.

“You must be an associate of Moses and the other instigators.” Thutmose hissed with venom in his voice.

“I’ve come to tell you that you have exactly two weeks from now to release them from servitude.” Azrael declared, ignoring the Pharaoh’s belligerence.

“You have no power, no place to demand such actions from me.” Thutmose raised his voice.

“I will return on the eve of the fourteenth night. If the Israelites are still enslaved, then I will strike down your eldest son and heir in his prime, and I’ll do the same to every first-born within the realms of your kingdom.” Azrael warned in an ominous voice just as all the torches were extinguished.

“Empty threats from a powerless God.” The Pharaoh spat, even as he itched at his face.

“You cannot own a soul,” Azrael answered, her stare gradually becoming more malevolent.

“I am King, I can own whatever I want,” Thutmose replied arrogantly.

“A King is a man.” Azrael snapped. “You are a man, weak like your Father and his Father.”

“How dare you.” Thutmose barked.

Azrael’s thin, pale lips twisted up into a smirk, and she laughed low in her throat. When the torches re-ignited, Azrael was gone.

A fortnight of violent thunderstorms and locusts passed, and still, the Pharaoh refused to surrender his ownership of the Israelites. He would not bow or show fear to a foreign God, even if his skin itched and his apartments were filled with frogs and locusts. So, the royal family prepared for bed, foolishly believing they were safe with triple the guards at their doors. The princes went to their heavily guarded rooms, the royal women of the harem settled into their quarters, and the king retired to his large apartment.

Meanwhile, the slave settlements and slums belonging to the Israelites were closing down ahead of the sunset. They painted lambs blood on their doors, bolted them shut and locked the wooden shutters over the windows, for they knew that Azrael was coming.

In the distance, thunder echoed, and lightning flashed. Another storm, an especially dark one this time. Moses waited, listening to the wind and the shutters rattling against the locks.

They knew when Azrael had entered the city. They felt it in their bones. The temperature dropped to the point that each one of them could see their own breaths like smoke in the light of the oil lamp. There was silence, absolute dead silence.

Suddenly, a shadow passed in front of the moonlight outside and the oil lamps went out in the huts, leaving them in darkness. Every man, woman and child, whether they knew it or not, stopped breathing. Though they were protected and they tried not to be petrified by the presence of an Archangel, fear nonetheless overcame them.

One little girl peered through a crack in the shutter to see all the lights in the city going out. Every torch, every oil lamp, every flame turning to darkness. Her young eyes scanned to the right and fell upon none other than the haunting image of Archangel Azrael.

She seemed to glide across the floor like a phantom, trailing long black robes behind her. The little girl could not see her face from where she peered through the shutters. All she could see was the lower jaw of a pallid woman peaking out from beneath a black hood. Immediately, Azrael's silver glare turned and locked on to the narrow crack in the shutter that the little girl had been using to spy on her, causing the little girl to gasp and pull away.

When the little girl plucked up the courage to glance back, Azrael was gone.

By the early hours of the morning, before the sun appeared on the horizon, all of Egypt was dealt with in the same calculating and emotionless efficiency as every order Azrael undertook. Corpses lay in almost every home, from Thebes to Memphis to Heliopolis, waiting to be discovered by their parents or guardians—all save for one.

Azrael still had to complete the most critical task, the winning move in the four hundred year game of chess the Pharaoh’s family had been playing against God. So, she entered the royal residences in darkness, invisible and silent.

No locked door or guard could stop her. The guards couldn’t even see her, let alone prevent her from getting into the room of Prince Rameses. She navigated the ornately carved stone halls and grand rooms with ease, with deadly intent, passing pillars and sculptures of Amun painted with gold leaf.

Within sixty seconds of entering the extravagant complex of the Pharaohs, Azrael was standing at the bedside of seven-year-old Prince Rameses, the future Pharaoh and successor to his ailing Father Thutmose II. He slept peacefully, probably dreaming about ruling over a great nation and commissioning elaborate building projects constructed upon the backs of slaves. Another God King, another man arrogant enough to believe the lie of his forefathers.

They were just men with egos the size of a planet and the world did not need more of them, but her personal opinions didn’t matter. All that mattered was following her orders. Azrael held her stilled hand flat just above the boy’s chest, never showing hesitance or remorse. His heart fluttered and stopped, and his skin paled in a matter of moments.

The future King was dead.

Azrael retracted her hand swiftly and wheeled around towards the door, black robes sweeping about her. The quicker she left, the better. The whole city stunk of death, rotting flesh and blood in the humid night air, even without all the fresh bodies.

When the sun rose, terrible screams echoed across the land, in the streets of every city, through the valley of the kings and across the red sea. Mournful cries from mothers in their homes disturbed the morning, waking those who hadn’t yet discovered what horror had befallen Egypt.

Thutmose burst through the doors of his apartments to hear the hysterical shrieks of Iset, the pregnant mother of Rameses. Despite his ailments, the Pharaoh sprinted down the hall towards the Prince’s room. What he set eyes on when he turned the corner made his blood run cold.

There, Iset cradled the corpse of his son, his only living heir. Tears ran down her pox-ridden face as she rocked him back and forth, howling so loud that Thutmose felt a ringing in his ears. He dropped to his knees, a blank look in his eyes. How could it be? How could a foreign God invade his kingdom, his city, his palace? How could that woman enter and leave his palace like a ghost?

“My son! My son!” Iset shrieked over and over.

Outside, the screams were the same as chaos overcame the city. Crowds of grief-stricken Egyptians had swarmed at the palace gates.

“Your majesty, what do we do.” One of his advisors spoke sheepishly.

But the Pharaoh did not answer, for all he could hear was Iset’s screams.

It took seventy days for the Prince’s body to be embalmed and prepared for burial at the Mortuary Complex. Thousands upon thousands of corpses from Egypt’s lower classes had already been buried in the ground, and God personally drowned the entire Egyptian army in the Red Sea. It was truly a grim atmosphere all across Egypt. Defeated, Thutmose returned to Thebes accompanied by several dozen surviving soldiers. Upon returning, he had to send his son to the afterlife.

In the noonday sun, the procession for Prince Rameses traversed the valley with offerings, luxurious furniture, jewellery, chariots and statues. The Pharaoh and Iset walked at the head of the procession, leading their son’s sarcophagus up the long ramp towards the magnificent mortuary complex, the resting place of Pharaohs before.

Thutmose cast an eye towards the cliff above, and there stood Azrael, still swathed in black robes billowing in the wind. Although a hood overshadowed half her face, he could still feel her watching him with those silver eyes, as if Azrael and her Father hadn’t already made their point.

There was true, unmistakable malevolence present in the dark figure standing atop the towering limestone cliffs. It wasn’t hate in her eyes, it was just the absence of love that frightened him. He looked back down at the approaching entrance to Deir El-Bahri. Here he would say farewell to his son, like so many fathers had done in the past weeks.

I will see you once more in the afterlife.

#chronicles #tenth plague

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countdowntojosie · 7 years

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A LOOONG Overdue House Update

Well, it has been an interesting couple of months for our family, what with the road trip and not living at our house. This is definitely a summer we will remember for a long time to come!

So here is this way overdue house update. A lot happened while we were on our trip, and a lot has happened since we got back. We had hoped that the floors would be finished when we got back, but that didn’t happen. In fact, they are in the process of finishing the floors this week.

That meant when we got back from the road trip, we went to work painting everything that was done enough to paint, until this week when we had to stay off the floors. Jake and I have spent several LATE nights painting.

Anyways, here are some pictures to show you all the changes that have happened!

Trim around all the new windows. It is beautiful, but MAN it takes a lot of coats of paint! :)

Beautiful covering for the attic access to our new central heat/air unit:

Two things in this picture- 1. The cabinets that used to stick out in the middle of the room are gone, and 2. One of those cabinets was repurposed and stuck to the end (on the left). Yay for repurposing and gaining back some of that cabinet space!

Just a picture of the old ceilings that were underneath the drop ceiling we used to have:

Shiplap installed on the back wall of our kitchen! This is the wall that you see when you walk into the house from the main door we use (our side door). I am going to whitewash this:

Our beautiful new ceiling in the kitchen/dining room:

New floors!!!!!! (Before being finished):

New floors in the living room! No more nasty carpet!

I thought this was interesting, the vinyl floor that was underneath the carpet in Jake’s office:

Shiplap in the new bathroom area:

Our new sinks in the bathroom:

I put the clear coat finish on the ceilings in the dining room- it took 3 coats because that pine just sucked the first coat right up. Here is a picture so you can see the difference between the dining room ceiling that is finished, and the kitchen ceiling that is not finished (YET):

Jack helped me paint the pocket doors for the bathroom one day:

And the shower room, with all the trim and shiplap painted and the first coat of color on. It took FOREVER to paint all of that trim- a coat of stain blocker primer, and 3 coats of trim paint + primer.

And the laundry room with trim painted and the first coat of paint on:

Here is a picture of the last of the siding being installed. I have no clue what that hole is all about!

The ceilings in our living room and bedroom had GLITTER popcorn texture previously. We were so happy that we were able to get those scraped and re-drywalled! I am now in the process of painting those beams white.

And our house with ALL of the siding and gutters installed! I will have to do a good before/after post later. :)

And we were SO excited to see THIS this week- the floor being finished! I am a bit obsessed with it. :)

First coat of finish on it:

So, that’s how things are looking! There is definitely a light at the end of the tunnel for everything to be complete, but this is where the hard work really starts for us. Before we move everything back in, almost all the ceilings, trim, and walls in the downstairs needs to be painted. We’ve already taken care of some of it, but there is still HOURS of painting that we need to do. It will be totally worth it in the end, though! I am still amazed at how blessed we are to have been able to do all of these things all at once. So very, very grateful.

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moonlit-maiden · 8 years

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The Archer’s 1000 Picspam —> 61: Polyamourous Snow White

Fairy Re-Tellings

There was once a kingdom that gave birth to two sons. The eldest was to rule, as was tradition, while the other married into a neighboring kingdom. The Princess of that kingdom loved the younger prince dearly and the arrangement was a perfect match. However, the eldest prince too needed to take a wife and he did. A princess with skin as white as snow and hair as black as deepest ebony. With flush cheeks and lips red as the rose she was given the nickname Snow White.

The now-King saw how Snow White’s eyes roamed to his younger brother’s form when he and his wife visited. And so, he conspired with his advisor to kill the Queen. For what use was an unfaithful wife? There were more than enough women who would take her place; being easy on the eyes was not worth the inevitable humiliation.

The advisor came upon the young Queen in the gardens and attempted to drown her in the pond. But Snow White was cleaver and played dead. When her would-be murderer relaxed she fought him and escaped into the thick woods. For days she wandered, drinking from the pure rivers and praying to come upon someone or something soon.

Eventually she came upon a small home built of wood. She broke through the glass window and saw that the place was not abandoned like she had first thought but rather currently in use! Starving and exhausted she ate the stores of apples and dried meats, drank her fill by the stream and finally fell asleep on one of the three beds. When she came to, three people loomed over her; a man and two women. She apologized for the breaking of the window and theft of food before begging to stay, offering housekeeping in exchange. After some discussion the three agreed.

For a time the four lived in harmony. The man was a close confidant and advisor of the king of the land Snow White was now in. One of the women was a healer and the shorter woman, the advisor's wife. They spent days, sometimes weeks at a time away from home, leaving Snow White to clean, cure the game meat and keep the food stores in order. The exiled Queen had never done work like this before but over time she became deft at it as one always dose with continuous practice.

Snow White’s husband, however, was not so content. For he eventually learned of the failed assassination. Infuriated and now with a liability, he went to an old mirror that his family had said was forbidden to use. Calling upon its dark magic, the King demanded it tell him the location of his wife. The mirror agreed to help but in exchange it would take the King's soul; nothing comes for free. After agreeing, the mirror revealed Snow White’s location; a forest in his sister-in-law’s kingdom, one that crossed the border of both his kingdom and hers. ‘Tell me how to kill her!’ he demanded of the mirror and for weeks the King locked himself away, pouring over forbidden tombs under the instruction of the magic mirror.

When he was ready, the King disguised himself as a young maid and traveled to where Snow White had fled. Upon seeing her once more he was overcome by her beauty and his rage at the memory of her unfaithful eyes. Snow White, meanwhile, was none the wiser, happy to see a new face and a new friend to chat with. Being a proper hostess, she invited the wandering maid into her home and offered her tea. As she went to retrieve some snacks to go with the tea, the disguised king poured belladonna poison into the teapot. However, she poured tea for her guest and not for herself; Snow White had never been fond of tea and now without royal protocol to follow she felt no guilt in denying the tea. In fact, she felt it better, for tea was such a rare thing out here and she would rather spend it on her guest. After the visit the King stole away and quickly drank the antidote for the poison, lest he die by his own stupidity.

Infuriated, the king once again returned in his guise, this time with a basket of freshly baked cookies. A sweet gift for a sweet hostess. Snow White thanked the maid, flattered at the gift. When she invited her in for more tea, the maid declined, feigning a need to return quickly to her master. The king left for home, certain his Queen would finally die by her own lust for sweet things. As evening fell, the three house owners returned. Excited to share the gift, Snow White showed off the delicately decorated cookies, unknowing they too were laced with belladonna. As dinner was made and the four recounted the events of the week, the healer accidentally knocked the basket of cookies over, spilling them into the hearth and ruining both them and the stew. When the King returned to his castle, many books were thrown as the magic mirror informed him of Snow White’s still-beating heart.

Once calm the King realized what would ensure her death and set into motion a cruel plan. A few months later he returned, masquerading as the maid once more. With a flourish Snow White was presented with an invitation to court from the apple of her eye, the younger brother of her estranged husband. The letter, forged by the King that stood before her in magical glamour, spoke of longing for her presence, of shelter promised and love returned. To seal the deal, a beautiful hair comb glittering with sapphires and set in gold was enclosed.

The ever-helpful friend, the maid offered to help Snow White get ready and then ride with her to her beloved and his wife. In earnest she agreed and she pulled her gown from months before when she’d run, mended as best she could and stored in cedar for this fated day. The disguised king laced up Snow White’s corset just right and combed her hair. He helped her pat berry juice on her lips and cheeks and finally placed the jeweled comb on her hair for the finishing touch. As Snow White smiled at her friend and she smiled back, a strong buzzing filled her limbs. They felt heavy and weak and she collapsed on the floor, gasping. The King ripped the glamour from himself and sneered down at his dying wife. ‘You will sleep and in three days die from lack of water. And you will never see your love; my face will be the last one you ever see.’ Snow White sobbed as fatigue settled in, the spell embedded in the comb weaving its way through her veins. ‘Disgusting whore. Your beauty will not arouse my pity. You should have had your happily ever after with me.’ With those cruel words ringing in her ears, Snow White fell asleep, alone in the forest with little hope of aid.

Meanwhile, the advisor who owned the cabin Snow White had been staying in was finally able to grab the private ear of the King. He told him of Snow White, living in the woods and not dead as the elder brother had claimed. Shocked and infuriated, he set to ride off at once to retrieve his sister-in-law. In truth, the younger King had fallen for her and had been mourning with his wife at her loss. For in an ideal world, he would have happily married both women and given them all the happiness he could. But alas, Fate had forced him to choose in order to retain proprietary. His Queen stopped him, warning that he would draw attention and be missed at court. So instead, the Queen of the younger King took flight on her white mare, chest bound and body clothed as that of a man. It was she who would bring her and her King’s precious lover home and, maybe, finally bring them their happily ever after. The trio who had been hosting Snow White rode with her for protection and secrecy.

Three days went by and as the sun traveled across the sky on the final day Snow White barely breathed in her slumbering state. Her tongue was swollen, almost choking her, throat dry and skin like paper. With the hard pace, the four travelers arrived in late afternoon and saw the door ajar. Terror seized the disguised Queen as she ran in to find her beloved seemingly expired on the wood floor. With a wail that shook the forest she fell to the floor, gathering the other Queen in her arms and sobbing in sorrow. The advisor and his wife stared in shock as the healer began to cry at the death of her friend.

As she stroked Snow White’s black hair, the Queen’s hand was stopped by the comb nestled firmly in it. Enraged, she ripped the comb out from the locks and threw it violently across the room with a scream before collapsing into sobs again, cradling the woman she loved. With the comb gone Snow White was able to arise and moaned in agony, needing water. The other Queen stared in shock as the advisor’s wife quickly grabbed water for the ill girl. Snow White was alive and safe.

For a week the Queen stayed with Snow White as she recovered, exchanging confessions of love long-overdue. The exiled Queen cried when she was told of her love for the younger King being returned and she happily agreed to come home. Once recovered, Snow White rode with the Queen and when back at the castle, the younger King embraced her, stealing a hasty kiss and sealing the love the three shared.

However, once Snow White told of the whole story, the pair were enraged at the older brother’s actions. She begged her lovers to leave him be, to let him rule in peace and think she was dead. The King agreed but the Queen did not. Instead, she secretly plotted and one day invited her cruel brother-in-law to visit. She gifted him with a crown made of gold and studded in stunning sapphires. Unbeknownst to the arrogant king, the crown was painted with mercury and when he placed it on his head it burned. As he reached to rip it off, the Queen shoved it firmly on his skull so he could not remove it and watched coldly as her lover’s husband died, begged at her feet for forgiveness. Sadly she had none.

With the King’s disappearance Snow White returned to her husband’s kingdom a widow. She claimed the throne for herself and ruled with the aid of her brother-in-law. There was peace and happiness within the two kingdoms as the King, his Queen, and their lover, Queen Snow White, lived happily ever after.

#thearchers1000picspam #snow white #polyamory #polyamourous #poly #crown #queen #king #woods #rings #belladonna #fairy retelling series

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dustmetal · 8 years

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Fic: This Is Not A Test of the Emergency Broadcast System

In which the long awaited awards ceremony comes to pass.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for readership, loyalty, kindness and making this a fun overall writing project to do. Hope you’ll stay with us in the future...for now Frank is going to be taking a long overdue hiatus from Tumblr.

Five of the seven occupants, all human got up from the corner table by the window at Grillby’s; just a bunch of people out for a drink until last call. The significant lack of alcohol being poured down throats or food being ordered had apparently gone unnoticed by the bartender who made no move to tell them to order or leave and definitely unnoticed by those in the bar who were altering their state of consciousness. The two left at the table, one a hooded and hunched figure zipped up tight into a hoodie, the other a fire monster who could have been related to the attractive green-flame female monster, or at least the same species presently tending bar.

Pushing back her hood to reveal a terrible case of hat-head, Undyne jostled Grillby in the side. "Well that went well huh? We're gonna kick ass at the awards show tomorrow!" She slammed a fist on the tabletop to emphasize her point and let out the whooping battle cry she’d been holding back all night; allowing them to continue their meeting uninhibited with the stage manager and the hand-selected staff from their significantly expanded crew she’d be bringing to the awards show to work with the venue staff.

"Speaking of, you gonna ask the Que--er, Toriel?"

"I...no." Grillby shook his head.,."I'm going with Andraia instead, since we both need to be backstage early anyway.. It makes se--"

"Don't give me that nonsense! C'mon, dude, We can SO all see you like her, you git! You get all stupid and start to talk like you swallowed a bad anime tape with terrible subtitles."

"It's. Complicated...." he muttered, trailing off then adding as an afterthought "...plus I don't think I'm her type."

The look of sheer frustration that crossed his face was something even his expression obscuring flames were unable to fully disguise.

“OH MY GOD!” Undyne’s reaction went from frustration to what was unmistakably a fangirl moment. “It’s a case of UNREQUITED LOVE! You can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t THINK straight….although, um, you’d better fuckin’ well tomorrow at the show.”

Grillby let her have her moment, nodding a bit. It was actually somewhat not without a ring of truthfulness, he had rather obviously lost weight and was more tired than usual but well, his romantic life (nonexistent though it was) was only half the reason. Maybe not even half. Quarter. Eighth.

He was thinking about his life in musical terms now.

"So all this is over a lady, big brother?" Agni snapped the bolt lock on the door behind the last stragglers and ducked behind the bar to emerge with two leftover burgers for each of them. There was something that suddenly felt so terribly like deja-vu, yet not...no, more like an out-of-body experience about the situation, sitting here slouched and in his civvies, half preoccupied and half asleep in his seat, on the opposite side of the bar.

Agni hugged him around the shoulders though.

"Undyne is right. You should get a good night's rest. Big day for you tomorrow."

Grillby ate as ordered, grateful that Undyne did not know the extent of the situation; his feelings for not only Toriel but his feelings for...well, he supposed that in some way he was kind of grateful for Sans' ability to be constantly in trouble when left to his own devices, it had certainly given him an excuse for keeping him close by without having to confess anything about how he /felt/.

At the end of the day, Toriel, Sans...he wasn't sure which of them he was supposed to be feeling disappointed to be losing. Or, losing to.

Presently however, Sans being in some kind of relationship, whether or not it was with him or Toriel or someone he met off the street, should be the least of his worries. Come hell or high water, tomorrow there would be a decisive battle in the Subterranical versus Glamour Bomb rivalry. Regardless of who took home that trophy, it would change the course of the game. He knew a win was always the best outcome, and he dropped off to sleep feeling restless and what sleep he did get peppered with unusual, undecipherable dreams that felt somewhat ominous... but it could have had something to do with eating so close to bed.

***

Grillby woke from his as-restful-as-it-was-going-to-get sleep to find that the butterfly vs snake fight club was currently using the pit of his stomach as their meeting place. He stood, groaning a little having (not for the first time since becoming a band manager) slept in his clothes and he swiftly swapped them out for another rare instance of a casual outfit. He resolved to grab a couple of biscuits on the way to the Tuxedo rental place (and forgot) as well as grabbing Undyne's dress (from the local anime cosplay shop which despite his misgivings actually seemed quite appropriate for a black tie event). He re-resolved to get some lunch on the way back (and didn't.).

He finally arrived back at the bar tux firmly on and as ready as he would ever be to find the band waiting for him, his own father and sister in tow. . Agni gave him a hug and a kiss on the temple, his father, ever the stoic, shook his hand.

"Proud of you Junior." he said gruffly. "...and the rest of you too." he added, speaking to the group but Grillby knew the words were primarily for Sans and Papyrus. His father had allowed the Skeletons to grow up on their own terms but anyone who knew the elder Flame monster knew darn well he considered them as his own dust and magic.

He smiled genuinely, the first thrill of pure excitement finding its way past his nerves.

"Thanks everyone. Let's go ah, get 'em."

“Geez NERD! You SUCK at these things. Look, this is how you get monsters fired up!”

There was a definite snort from Sans’ general direction, followed by a clack of bone on bone as Papyrus covered his mouth before he could get a word out.

“... We are going to go to that awards show and show ol' MTT HOW IT IS DONE!"

Papyrus jumped up with enough energy for ten of them. "YEAH! YEAH! We're going to WIN! 'Cause we ARE THE GREATEST! METAL! BAND! OF! ALL! TIME!"

"S'right Bro."

"Yeah, even the internet says so." Jerry flashed around an advance poll he'd looked up on his phone that did indeed paint Subterranical as being a shoo-in for a number of awards. It was a rare moment of perfect unity for the entire band.

Grillby hated to jinx a good thing, but he had to admit things were definitely looking good.

***

Despite the fact that the snow had morphed itself into freezing rain and the driver had to pull the limo around the back of the pub to the loading dock so everyone could enter in relative dryness and safely, there was still something profoundly special about getting into a limousine.

"Okay check this!" Undyne grinned and Grillby simply let her spring the cork on the expensive and totally not complimentary champagne and clapped along when Papyrus impressively distance caught it, right from the opposite end of the elongated cab.

In what seemed no time at all, the Limo rolled up to the red carpet with a perfectly smooth stop and there was a click as an aide pulled the handle to, flooding the interior of the luxury car with a deluge of sound and noise. .

"Let's go, nerds." Undyne edged along the seat first, sliding from the vehicle in a practiced motion, the white silk of her empire-waisted dress fluttering dramatically as she stepped into the new world on the other side.

Grillby knew that by now his relegation to the penumbra distinctly adjacent to the spotlight was far more compromised than it once was, but he was finding himself surprised by the sheer amount of flashbulbs that turned his way.

A few yards away, Mettaton was surrounded by a cluster of reporters, allowing one of his stunning heel-clad legs to peep out from the slit of his strapless, silky dress, all in his signature glittering fuchsia of course

"Naturally, the real question is who is going to play me in the upcoming autobiographical movie: ‘The Mettaton Story’?" he was saying to one of the reporters.

"But of course I would normally consider playing myself, and with my talents, who could blame the directors for coming to me first, but it IS fashionable to have someone else play your part these days…

” He paused as if he expected the cluster of gathered individuals to chime in with a ‘how true’.

Some of them actually and LITERALLY did. Grillby had to remind himself that he was no longer anonymous and also that human perfumes and colognes were flammable just to keep from snorting.

“Besides,” he continued, and his gaze flickered unmistakably in the direction of the Subterranical party, "As my workload has increased so dramatically as of late, there are not even enough hours in the day for the band alone, am I right darlings?" He smiled winningly back at the flashing cameras.

With his own emotional response under control, he turned swiftly at to look at Undyne, but she didn’t seem to care. Either she had not heard the comment or had was exercising far more self control than he was giving her credit for.

"Miss Ó Maoilriain." Grillby’s attentions were brought back to the here and now as he had forgotten that his 'date' was herself a well-known figure in the musical community. “How does it feel to have your first post-retirement job be a Monster band?” one snotty-sounding member of the press sneered at her, eying Grillby with incredibly thinly veiled contempt.

""I was never in retirement." she said smoothly. "I just decided that after Ravenous ended a very successful career, I had the option open to work for the right band for me."

She very subtly steered the grateful fire monster away on that note and he began his headcount again.

Across the way, Papyrus was preening under the cameras, almost as easily as Mettaton, being asked dozens of questions by some gossip-rag about (unsurprisingly) his love life, mostly; what did people think of the rumours that he was dating Mettaton,? Or Undyne...or any number of human actors and actresses? What did he have to say to the gay and lesbian community?

The skeleton's apparent lack of any kind of sexual pursuit seemed to serve him well in this scenario; considering he seemed more flattered at being considered interesting enough to merit press coverage than considering the many rumours that had landed and answered quite similarly to each prospective 'suitor' inquiry with equal deference.

Satisfied that most of his band and he himself were doing very well, he turned his attention to the more problematic members of the group.

As it turned out, Papyrus already had Jerry well-to-hand, given that the first person he wound up chatting with after escaping his interrogation was pop idol Monique Mondale; the very same that Jerry had been bragging about his expectations to charm (the tight mini dress off of) all night long. Miss Mondale seemed to be far more interested in what Papyrus had to say however, but at least Jerry was getting something in by proxy - he assumed, at least enough to let him think he was.

That left him with the biggest troublemaker of the lot who was presen...oh.no.

Where was Sans?

Grillby's practiced eye scanned the crowd, increasingly frantically when he couldn't immediately spot the frontman, but then nor could he see any kind of disturbance.

"Oh ho, ho... It is good to see you, young Grillbert!"

Grillby winced at his seldom-used and much-despised full name, then winced and staggered as the sudden powerful clap of paw-to-shoulder sent him stumbling a few paces forward, coming dangerously close to pitching him on his face.

“Hello Asgore, Sir.” He gasped, not needing to face the source of the voice to know that he was in the presence of the head of Under the Mountain Records, former King of All Monsters and his boss.

"And who is this charming young creature?" Asgore continued, pressing a kiss to Andraia's hand as gently as he had roughly ‘patted’ Grillby's back.

The Fire monster blushed a brilliant white, but thankfully not for the reason that Asgore imagined. Andraia was a lovely human and he definitely didn’t have a problem with either her company or the quality of her work with the band, but the fact that he was nursing a glaring and obvious (at least to those regularly around him) crush on his boss's ex-wife was...well…

He caught himself and stammered through the introductions, relaxing a bit when Asgore introduced his own human date - fiancee (or so they hoped if some bill allowing Monster and Humans to marry passed), even. It did make the circumstances a little bit easier to bear.

It also helped that Asgore's new beau was clearly feeling about as uncomfortable with the massive party as he was.

"The crab cakes are excellent and you might want to get a few drinks,." she advised him with a small smile.

Asgore turned away to introduce himself to a young Japanese human with a spiky haircut and heavy eye-makeup who Grillby didn't recognize. Andraia snagged them some Gin and Tonics from a passing waiter, the aforementioned crab cakes from another (which were indeed damnably good) and introduced him to a professional looking blonde and a strung out redheaded human, both of whom were old friends of hers and veteran managers of various backstage areas. The trio fell into an easy conversation...for about five minutes, after which Andraia tugged on his sleeve.

"I think that's my cue."

She gestured towards - and Grillby's heart sank, the approaching and unlikely duo of Sans and Alphys.

On a slightly more positive note, Alphys didn't appear to be sobbing or indeed exhibiting any other undue signs of distress. Sans too seemed remarkably quiet, even downright pleasant around her.

Grillby knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Stranger things had happened. .

"I-I'm afraid I need to...we should really..."

"Right." . Andraia nodded and followed the lizard monster, evidently having interpreted the stuttering as intended.

Still somewhat unconvinced of Sans' apparent innocence, Grillby grabbed a drink off a passing waiter that, from the smell of it probably contained enough alcohol to turn himself into an incendiary device of massive proportions if he wished it. Something of it must have shown on his face as Sans too managed to acquire one; incidentally despite the fact that the man had apparently long moved on from their location.

Deciding that actually drinking it might not be the worst idea he'd had all evening, Grillby knocked the thing back and despite the acrid alcohol smell, it turned out to be one of those drinks that was rather somewhat dangerous in nature, going down far easier than anticipated, but he did feel somewhat better for it and he turned back to Sans.

"Please tell me you were civil to her?"

"Hey I might have bugged her a little..."but you saw her, she ain't annoyed or anythin’."

Grillby turned the phrasing over in his head, fighting boozy inhibitors to suss out any hidden meaning in Sans' words

He decided however that Alphys reaction being fairly devoid of hysteria spoke for itself and he resolved to spend the rest of the night allowing the remainder of his surviving magical brain cells to ensuring the performance part of the evening went off without a hitch. Muffett was actually the first one they ran into, she seemed as impervious as ever to having arrive a touch late for the opening festivities suggesting business was clipping along as usual. She did in a more decidedly out of character turn however have a box for him and apparently one for Sans.

Inside was an intricate, strawberry-topped pastry in the shape of a boutonniere.

"Nice." Sans reply was muffled through the fact that he was already eating his, while Grillby was more enchanted; old habits died hard and this was aesthetically pleasing food if ever there was an example of it.

"This is...beautiful Muffett. Thank you."

"Oh it's not from me Dearie..." she winked three of her six eyes at him, and that made his stomach and his SOUL swoop in a dizzying way that he knew had very little to do with having consumed very potent alcohol.

"We're just heading to the green room." he informed her as though his thoughts were still right here and not off in bedroom land, choosing to pull his phone out and try to focus on anything about it in a vain attempt at mastering himself.

"Please pass along the message to Papyrus, Jerry and Undyne. they may not be checking their phones." . he added, steering Sans along by the shoulder blade so as to avoid getting strawberry or chocolate on his still-immaculate tux.

***

The most important category they'd been nominated for was after the midway point of the ceremonies, and fortunately after their performance, which was agreeable given that a loss would not be in the cards to tamper with their mindset for a good show.

This year the awards were being hosted by a woman stand-up he knew his father liked, She had very little to do with the music industry as a whole, but he'd been aware the last year's debacle of a host who could have given JERRY lessons as to how to offend every person in a earshot (namely by being in front of a world-reaching media platform,), so it seemed they weren’t pulling any punches. He could hear the MC introducing her to the stage, just as they arrived at their destination.

While the rest of the group checked out the backstage riders and started their pre-show rituals, Grillby paced around a small corner of the Green Room, thinking hard. As it turned out, the rest of the members of the band also had pastry corsages (though he was sure none but his and the Skeleton brothers’ had also included a strawberry rose), but at least the gesture being extended to all of them had helped put some of the more distracting notions out of his head for the time being.

"What do you MEAN you can't?"

And here they went.

Grillby spun to face Undyne and of all monsters Papyrus.

Nerves were getting to everyone he supposed.

"What's going on here?"

"Who told Papyrus he can't play a flaming guitar with his tongue!?"

"I-wh--"

Undyne ignored him. "WE TOTALLY PRACTICED IT?! IT'll BE BADASS!"

The fire monster went for the hail Mary. "...The fire-code people. For the building."

It worked, much to Papyrus’ relief, Undyne dropped it, but she could very clearly be heard to mutter under her breath something that sounded an awful like a variation on '...and yet they let you in'.

He sighed. He sat down. .He nibbled on his pastry corsage.

"Hey."

Grillby wasn't sure if if he'd not been looking where he had sat down or whether Sans had maneuvered himself in that tricky space manipulation way he always seemed to have, but one way or the other he found himself being tugged back against something soft and warm that was not so as a result of his own flames.

The fire monster let himself be ...cuddled, such as it was, falling a little bit limply against his new, squishy backrest. with a sigh that belied his true stress levels and (he hoped) just how well he'd been holding things together, up until now.

"Relax Gribblies, it's going to be a great show."

"Yeah. You're right."

Something sort of hard and almost-but-not-quite sharp scraped the outside of his wrist.

"Fricking...Sans, you bit me?"

He lifted his hand to his face to see the damage, and flames swirled back over the little divots in his magic.

He was tempted to stand up, especially since he could feel Sans laugh where his back was pressed against him

Instead he stayed down. He was comfortable and God knew how long that would last.

"Papyrus?"

"Nyeh?"

"Can you turn up the loud speaker a bit please?"

The skeleton who was not presently being a pillow nodded affably, setting down his guitar and in the next moment the sound of an entertained audience's appreciative chuckles filled the room.

Satisfied that there was no way he could totally drift off, despite being comfortable, (make that VERY comfortable, as Sans had decided to play with the wisps of flame that sprung like 'hair' from the top of his head) he decided there was nothing for it yet curling his long legs up under himself and simply waited for the first strains of Glamour Bomb's performance, the timing by which he had gauged their own pre-performance preparations to start in earnest, both in part because it would give them a good amount of time to accommodate for any technical mishaps that might occur during checks, but also because they would not have to listen to and subsequently be riled up by MTT, his band or any of the rivalry they represented.

Normally it might not have mattered as half the band were at the least professional if not strictly speaking 'chill' and the other half mercurial regardless of any outside influence, but he was unduly pleased in this case that the mercurial half seemed to be completely under an unprecedented wave of utter calm. One that he refused to allow to go to waste.

The deafening roar of applause and cheering was shut off with a crackle and a click that barely cut through Grillby's drowsy state despite his personal insistence that he would not succumb to sleep.

"BROTHER!"

He lifted his eyes to observe looming above them, expression an odd mixture of confusion, excitement and mild disgust.

Grillby snapped himself back to full consciousness and alertness excruciatingly slowly, up until he realized that he had a skeleton still chewing on his wrist. that was tingling in a very odd way. He retracted his limb and attempted to rub some feeling back into it.

"IT IS TIME TO GO, NOW! WE CANNOT BE LATE!” Papyrus, who had likely never been tardy a day in his life was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet and looked more than a little wired. Grillby fervently hoped that his apparent nausea was in regards to his willingness to get Sans’ germs all over himself.

On to the first order of business. "Ah, Undyne. I need you to take a quick walk with me." he commanded.

The fish turned to him, the eyebrow above her good eye disappearing into her hairline. . "Sure, what's up?"

Grillby walked her away from the group, hoping she wouldn't balk at the idea. Normally he tried not to let his fidgeting show in his gait, but he had set this up without her knowledge and was none too sure of what kind of reaction he'd get from it.

"I know you've ah, earned your stripes as our veteran band member." he said, going for a certain demureness he hoped would deflect any potential ire, but regardless of how she reacted this needed to be done. He ploughed on, coming to a halt a few yards away from a patient looking Korean man with a youthful face and carrying a complicated looking metal case.

Undyne's good eye flickered to him curiously and then back to Grillby. and with good reason. He wasn't the type to spring a huge event without warning normally and he had more than enough sense not to do anything that might potentially demoralize someone before a massive performance as well. Still, he must have looked a great deal more dire he imagined and he attempted to soften his features as much as was instantly discernable by anyone who wasn't a fire elemental or....a member of his band he spent massive portions of every day with.

“This is Tae-Yong. I know that Doctor Alphys looked at your arm earlier today, but I would feel more comfortable if you got a second opinion."

Grillby braced internally.

Undyne hacked out a laugh. "Geez you are such a nerd. You're clenching your arse so hard you might leave behind a diamond when you dust. Come on, even I know you're like a damn helicopter parent with a bullied kid over everything remotely relating to Mettaton. I'm surprised you aren't insisting we be in one of those bullet proof Pope cases or something that humans use." she snorted. “Cripes, I hate to agree with the fatass---SANS." she drawled her correction and punctuated it with an eyeroll, "But if it'll keep you from having whatever the fire monster equivalent of an aneurysm is, I’ll totally let the little guy look at my arm. Yo kid, let's do this."

Grillby hovered while he watched Tae-Yong look at Undyne's proesthetic, but he was anxious to get back to the rest of the group.

Sans was one to talk about being uptight,. Even if it sounded like an oxymoron where the stout skeleton was concerned, it had taken the monster a very long time to start treating their human staff, in spite of any definite trustworthiness and competency with any kind of valid respect or at the very least to get through a day without getting bored and trying to prank them into enough annoyance to net them a cut practice session so as to knock off early.

"Go on." Undyne rolled her eyes. "I think I can take the little guy if it comes to it. Trained by Asgore instead of Juvie, remember? I’ll totally smoke the little nerd if he tries to boobytrap my arm.." She laughed at the expression on the poor technician's face, but Grillby was weighing his options and decided to go check on what sort of chaos might have developed with the rest of his band.

Chaos backstage was an omnipresent creature in general, and it was best to assume the worst.

Papyrus seemed to have been reassured that his tongue was heretofore safe from burning guitars, and was hovering by a young woman bent over an amp while he plucked his guitar, perhaps a touch nervously. The amp in question belonged to Jerry and in any other instance the whole situation could have been seen as a bad case of White Knighting, but there was a common force against Jerry that transcended appropriate assumptions to make about gender roles and personal ability to stand up for oneself.

Speaking of nerves, the lumpy little spud was practicing, taking a cue from Papyrus he supposed. Muffett was having a reasonable discussion about her drum set and even Sans was about as serene as could be, dozing on his feet instead of rehearsing like the rest, but nor did that put him in anyone's immediate line of ire or anyone in his immediate line of interest.

"Yo, we're all done here. Got a clean bill of health - arm is virus and bug free." Undyne came up behind him, and he turned to watch her make a fist with the prosthetic and pump it in a show of enthusiasm.

Grillby pulled out his mobile and made the transfer of funds to the young technician, shook his hand and bade him stay around the back monitors for the remainder of the show. Only awards recipients, managers and directly involved individuals had the prime seats and the back rows that could be purchased by the general public had been long sold out, but it hadn't taken much to allow an extra to join the behind-the-scenes hangers on.

Now all there was to do was wait and hope that the leadup did not belie the success of the final product.

The crackle from his cb radio was a confirmation from Andraia that things were a go from her technician's perspective and he copied it, then pulled an unused amp just inside the audience's blind spot at the edge of the stage, took a seat and waited, hovering on the edge of it.

On stage, awards were being passed out for something; Grillby didn't recognize the recipients, he thought perhaps it might have been Spoken Word but even if he’d been interested this was too close to zero hour to pay the barest polite attention. They were in the final moments now; behind the set-covering curtain, Subterranical were taking marks, roadies were scrambling to complete their last chances to make sure nothing had slipped notice.

He caught Sans’ eye, in part because it was flashing gold-blue; but it was gone the moment they locked gazes.

“...Subterranical!” the MC walked off stage left to screaming and cheering and it was on.

Grillby tensed without realizing it.

The song was supposed to be the single - 'Fuck the War Machine'. Sans had no problem with censorship, personally finding 'bleeping' network sanctioned ‘offensive’ words amusing rather than anything else.

But this was not that song. Grillby’s SOUL clenched as it went through a wave of nervous emotions

Subterranical was definitely playing a new song. None of them had managed to disclose it; even Papyrus who was normally transparent as glass had managed to keep the secret.

There was no profanity in the song; and by the second verse, Grillby had stopped panicking enough to realize that it wasn't a prank.

He began listening to the song. It was good. Really good. Better than anything on the album.

Sans' lyrics were perhaps what put the the band as over the top popular as it was. Sans sang songs of war and murder and 'dark' things and that was to be expected of a Metal group and it probably lent some edge that they were Monsters which had evolved into something ‘unknown’ and ‘scary’ for humans. His true power lay in his odd...ability - ability really was the only word for it - to sound like a veteran of these things, even if Grillby knew personally that he was more or less the same age as him. They’d met as children. Not even Muffett - the eldest member of the band had anything on that kind of a scale as part of her lifespan. It would have been one thing if Sans were a researcher with a degree of accuracy and respect for a sensitive topic, but this wasn’t that either.

The long and the short of it was that Mettaton was a decent actor, but whatever talent he brought to his role as Monster Performer: Idol to Human and Monster alike, there was no match to Sans ability to exude something that suggested he’d been personally present for major events in their history.

However he managed it, it had only gotten stronger with time and it was in full force now. The audience was going predictably insane.

Grillby thumbed on the button of the walkie talkie, legitimately struggling to keep his voice low. "Wow. Got me."

Andraia flashed him a thumbs up from the sound booth and with that he let himself enjoy the moment.

The fire monster was very nearly doing a dance of joy. He had sat down to counteract the emotional and physical turmoil of the long day exhausting his magic, but no one watching him could have known it and for himself being tired was the farthest thing from his mind. He was burning bright, white-hot and orange, gold flickering off him in such fervor that he had to sink further into the shadows, cheering along with the crowd, almost feeling as though he was louder than all of them.

Something cool blew past the back of his neck, fanning his flames and he whirled in shock and a thrill of embarrassment to see Toriel standing behind him, a bemused expression on her face and lips pursed from the teasing puff of air she'd sent at his neck.

"Why hello there ‘Mr. Grillby.’" she smiled.

He didn't bother to restrain himself, still too caught up in the moment to care much about some minor bashfulness and hugged her, unashamedly. "You were able to come!"

"Yes, Muffett made a small tweak to the green room rider." she was wearing her bakery uniform and was still a little floury.

"The gifts you sent were excellent." he added, adrenaline continuing to eclipse his usual low-key shyness. And he was still holding her hand. There it went.

He barely had the time to dwell on the situation as the band had made their way off stage and he was bowled over literally by a sea of bones, fur, scales and hair. The tar from Muffett's black lipstick managed to sear a lasting lipstick-kiss mark on his cheek and his air was being uncomfortably choked off but yet he couldn't think of a situation he'd rather be in. Papyrus hefted him and Undyne had a brief scuffle with him with him over which of them could supplex him better.

Across the way the crew along with Andraia were celebrating in an equal, though somewhat less limb-heavy tangle, which he found himself pause to watch.

“So take it y’aint too pissed off with the new song?” Someone said into his back.

“No.” The breathlessness of the reply had very little to do with the fact that Sans’ arms were locked rather fiercely around his waist.

He relaxed into the embrace until Papyrus ripped his brother away with a whoop.

Grillby went to extract Andraia to take them down to their seats for the remainder of the evening, after they were re-dressed and/or cleaned up into their party clothes once more.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sans and Toriel, huddled close together.

He squashed down the invasive spike of envy (and the still-lingering question of who it was for), wanting to get out of there in a huff...kind of...but mastering the childish impulse and busying himself with getting back on track until ''Professional Grillby was back in control.

He found himself , along with the rest of the band being hurriedly ushered out after the music played to coax a long-winded -award recipient off the stage, and the group were soon being served Champagne in an aisle-adjacent table. Grillby didn't know if it was coincidence or because they would be expected to be using that aisle soon, but he crossed his fiery fingers in the hopes of the latter.

As it turned out, Andraia won an award for Best Engineering on the Blue Album, which meant they were officially not walking away empty handed. Papyrus had been nominated for Best Metal Performance but lost gracefully to Metallica's latest tour (and he quite rightly felt there was no shame in that.) Still, it would be good to receive something band-specific for their troubles and Grillby found himself fidgeting through Lil' Hal's acceptance speech for best Hip Hop Artist more than he'd like to admit.

Monique Mondale was the presenter for the newly crafted Monster-produced album award and she had a short speech prepared on the importance of Asgore's significance in forming Under the Mountain records and how it was significant that this year there were enough Monster performers to create a category for awards.

Everyone knew including Punk Hamster himself that the race was between Glamour Bomb and Subterranical but the rodent-like creature waved at the cameras when they trained themselves on him.

Grillby tried to relax himself, but even using the big screen as a reference couldn't seem to unclench his muscles. Never had he been so grateful for his elemental nature - most anyone watching who wasn't familiar with a fire elemental would be able to read his body language for what it was.

Of course, his whole family would likely have something to say about it later.

Up on stage, Monique had come to the end of the ‘drawing out the suspense for extended viewing’ portion of her presentation and slid a manicured nail under the seal of the envelope. She bent near the microphone.

"And the winner of the award for Best new Monster artist is..."

She used the expectant pause to slide out the paper and bring it to eye level. "Subterranical!"

The declaration rang out to Grillby's ears las though it was screamed at decibel level. They’d won. There was no mistake about it.

Beside him, Undyne was impressively wrestling Jerry back into his seat with one arm on the pretense of a congratulatory hug and trying to maneuver Papyrus into getting up and making his way to the stage with her leg.

The tall skeleton walked to the stage, receiving a kiss on the cheek bone and a half-air hug from Monique and leaning down to the microphone even though it was hefted to its furthest height to read the brief speech.

“No, it IS fair, Mettaton...!”

In the chaos it took everyone a moment to realize that the voice that was speaking was not Papyrus'.

“...A-after...after what w-we did...we...di...didn't deserve to win."

Papyrus fell silent, realizing that he wasn’t being listened to and a horrified expression crossing his face as he finally processed just what was interrupting him. Even the curious buzzing that had started up had died down to near complete silence now, with the tv coverage crew having located the source of the unfamiliar, nervous soprano stutter.

"Y...You nearly killed Undyne." The cameras had zeroed in on Alphys, who was standing at her unimpressive full height over the seated and blank-looking Mettaton and twisting the bodice of her black polkadotted evening dress in her claws. If she was aware she was on television she either hadn't noticed or had moved beyond caring.

"A-and...and I kn--know it was a-an a-a-a-accident." her stuttering became more pronounced in her half-determined, half fearful bravado. "B-but...you---you made me lie and I don't want to lie and hide things Mettaton!I ...I hate it and Undyne deserves to win and we do not. A-and I...I-d-don’t care i-if you fire m-me! I q-quit!"

Sans folded his hands across his stomach peaceably. Undyne's face was now the one on camera but she seemed unusually calm.

At the end of the row, Grillby stood up.

He found himself walking down to the row of tables by the stage, . He saw the cameras follow his progress in his periphery vision. .

The entire room of elegantly dressed people was silent in the wake of Alphys’ pronouncement and (he acknowledged it as being) Sans retaliatory ‘prank’ . Grillby came to a halt at the end of the row in front of the duo, rooted to the spot and staring at the both of them. It was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking. That was generally the case as with no incredibly obvious facial ticks or features, but this was a whole different case.

Sans might have made a joke about ‘frozen’ and ‘irony’ but it was just so eerie.

Mettaton stood and finding himself almost immediately in Grillby’s face, took a careful step back, almost stumbling over his carefully crafted pink spile of a heel; an impressive feat for a robot with servos and motors designed to keep his balance level at all times.

Sans had sat up a little bit from his initial pleased ‘innocent observer’ slump but now was quite aware that what to come next was not good. Grillby had, it seemed, run totally out of his last vestiges of patience.

[Maybe this timeline had finally run its course.]

The fire monster reared up like a cobra - he was certainly tall but had always been thinner than even Papyrus (or so said Sans), In that moment however he seemed intimidatingly huge, his face, livid with blue-white flames looming down over Metaton’s .

“If you ever.” he began, voice dripping with bile “Come near my band again, I will find out EXACTLY how much heat it will take to melt magic-imbued metal.”

He plucked the award out of Papyrus’ fingers, turning to find him there; presumably to stop him but the elemental didn’t even miss a beat. The stunned guitarist didn’t make a move and he ascended the stairs, and very calmly placed it onto the podium. “We do not want this.” he informed the dumbstruck Idol hostess with quiet politeness, for all the world sounding as though he was returning a pair of trousers he’d discovered a stain on just out of the store.

He ushered himself off the end of the stage and as one the remainder of the Subterranical party stood. Somehow it seemed like the right thing to do. Grillby offered his hand to Andraia who barely hesitated to take it.

Internally he was delighted he had not found time to ask Toriel to be his date as he had initially planned. He swept her down the aisle before the confused and grateful looking security guards could react, stopping only at the auditorium doors to turn back.

Subterranical gazed back at him.

His eyes were kind now but his voice brooked no argument. “Let’s go home.”

***

The rest of the night passed in such a blur Grillby could have been intoxicated for all he remembered of it, though at least that would have been a better excuse. Much like being drunk the enormity of his actions at the ceremony hit him all at once once he had rubbed a decent amount of sleep from his eyes.

He had behaved foolishly, impulsively and childishly, so focussed on and distracted with his ridiculous (and nonexistent) love life he'd let his professional one slide into the proverbial ditch.

He dressed himself in a casual jumper and jeans and peered into the mirror. There would be a lot of work to do.

He had to start right away.

He was still livid.

Stepping out of his room, he predictably found the entirety of the band clustered around the dinette table as best they could, waiting for him and not even bothering to bicker about personal space.

Apparently somewhere in the last 12 hours or so, the table had acquired a new centerpiece - namely their award from the previous night.

Grillby had a pretty good idea where - or more accurately, by whose hand that had come from.

He tore his gaze from it and tried to spread it evenly among the rest of the group.

He took a deep breath and let it out, willing away some of his ire, even if he could feel his own flames licking as white as they had the previous night.

He opened his mouth. He was going to apologize, explain himself, ask forgiveness. Instead, he told them only two words. "September 6."

That said, he turned and exited into the kitchen, letting the door click quietly behind him.

Subterranical looked at each other from across the cramped Banquette.

70 days, 22 Hours, 35 minutes and 8 seconds before the next album dropped….

End of Season 1

To Come in Season 2…:

Grillby lay back comfortably on the bed, catching a rare moment of comfort and uninterrupted rest in the the peace of his hotel room. He scraped the last bit of pasta off the admittedly well-made room service plate and got up to put it outside for collection by the staff, only to be greeted by Papyrus, one hand raised pre-knock.

***

"DARLINGS! We are here for our turn to use the soundstage!"

***

“‘Sup Pap?”

“What’s this?”

“Well that would be food Papyrus. That’s what you tend to find in a fridge.” she’d been somewhat quiet since the moment of Alphys painful confession, but even she couldn’t keep the sass out of her voice.

“I KNOW THAT.” the Skeleton put his hand on his hip bone and then and grabbed the door before it could swing back shut. “BUT ALL OF THIS TUPPERWARE!”

***

"Yes." he said rather stupidly.

"I am sorry, I asked if you preferred cinnamon or butterscotch."

“Still yes.”

#frankpanioncube writes #this is not a test of the emergency broadcast system #tw: catty paparazzi #tw: emotional abuse #tw: alcohol use #one sided relationships

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anneedmonsonus · 5 years

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Our Cladding Makeover Reveal

Don’t fall off your chair. Today I finally have a reveal for you! Our before and after of our Scyon Walls elevation makeover, where we overclad the exterior of our double brick 1970s house.

Yep, it’s been a while. If this is your first time to my blog, welcome! Basically we decided to overclad our existing double brick and rendered (poorly rendered!) three bedroom 1978 house, which once upon a time we named The Crap Shack. Originally our house was that 70s dark red-brown brick – you’ve probably seen a million of their type around. Here’s the house back then! The wisteria was its only saving grace (and sadly it died).

The brick wasn’t terrible but it was very dark and heavy and such a strong colour, so when we bought the house nine years ago we decided to do a budget refresh and Mr Nerd and I rendered it ourselves using a render product with the paint mixed in.

It definitely brightened it up for the interim but after a while it looked a bit shabby and we were just thinking about how we could modernise and update it when the opportunity to work with Scyon Walls came along. We chose Scyon Walls Axon and Stria panels with a feature wall done in cedar paneling and now we love how the house looks.

NOW

What we initially envisioned would be a relatively straightforward project extrapolated into a project more complicated and time-consuming than we had first thought (this is basically the storyline of every single Grand Designs episode ever made). We were okay with that – it’s just less blog-friendly!

I probably sound like I am whinging but for once in my life, I am genuinely not! Our 1978 house was just at that age where a lot of things needed upgrades (like new gutters and a new carport) and Mr Nerd and I are both of similar mind – when we do something to the house now, it’s like well, we might as well do it properly. So we’d rather save up and do it right. Don’t forget, our house was built in the 70s and had long been a rental property with the bare minimum carried out on it for years before we got our hands on it – she was overdue an upgrade in almost every area. We plan to be here a while longer and it felt like one thing led to another thing:

Ripping off the old crummy, leaking carport meant having to save up for and get a new carport.

Installing new gutters, downpipes and fascias meant waiting for council to install new underground power as they needed to cap the existing electrical lines running into the house through the fascias.

Cutting and knocking down the funny brick wall on the side of the house meant having to buy a gate to go there instead. (Who knew nice gates were so expensive? I did not).

It was all worth it. I love Scyon’s products and I’m grateful and glad we did it. I would use cladding again in a heartbeat if we were renovating another older home (or use it in a new-build if I were building). Not only have we improved the way the exterior of our home looks, but how it functions (new double carport, extended driveway, extra parking bay, walled-in garage, new patio and deck etc). But I am laughing at my naïve former self who thought we could redesign our elevation, hire contractors to the do the install, paint, add a new carport, add a new back patio and decking, do hardscaping down the sides of the house, pour a new driveway, landscape, tidy it all up and shoot in the space of four months. I think sometimes I live in blogger-land rather than reality, and I not only have an overinflated, optimistic sense of my own abilities but also a propensity to naturally underestimate how long things will take. Mr Nerd is the more practical one.

THAT SAID. Doing this kind of project in a four month time frame would definitely not be impossible. Your project could be WAY more straightforward than ours was. But we were restricted by time and budget – not to mention the minor issue of another pregnancy (another delightful HG pregnancy) and a newborn baby (babies so rudely throw a spanner in your renovation plans) to add into the mix of an existing toddler, a needy dog, work, life, Game of Thrones etc. Ugh, and one contractor who we hired towards the end of the project (unrelated to the cladding). I won’t tell you the whole story because it’s such an energy drain (maybe one day I’ll share) but we ended up having to pay for another company to rip out their work and redo the whole job. We did have other contractors who were great – I’ve put their details at the end of the post.

You can find all my old posts about the process here:

We’re Renovating Our House’s Renovation! The Before Photos

Making Over Our House’s Elevation: The Design

How to Clad Over a Double Brick House Making Over Our House’s Elevation: The Progress

Nearly Finished! Our Cladding Makeover (and Reader Questions)

Disclaimers done, here is our house before and after now! Thank you to the lovely Crystal Patterson for taking the professional pics – the others are mine.

BEFORE

AFTER

Mr Nerd was at work when we did this shoot, so my Mum stepped in My mum (“Oma” to our kids) is my chief savior, babysitter and angel in general and without her things like painting and photoshoots and writing would never ever ever get done. Thank you Mum. Photos by Crystal Patterson.

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OUR WINDOWS: A lot of people had asked me about our windows and asked if we had these redone as part of the cladding makeover. While old blog posts of mine have talked about how we spray-painted our old aluminium windows, years ago we had these replaced with new double-glazed ones with that low-e glass. The old aluminium windows looked heaps better spray painted, but they were very old, some you couldn’t open at all, and they had super thin glass and in winter you could walk past a window and literally feel the cold seeping into the house. Double glazing isn’t cheap but it has made a huge difference here.

I did so much gardening to get the house ready for these photos but looking at them now, I sort of wish I’d cut the garden back even more to show off the cladding more, but, kids. (Sometimes it is an effort to find time to just cut my toenails, or ‘feet nails’ as Little Nerd kind of disturbingly put it the other day.

One of the questions I get asked the most about the cladding is the colour scheme we chose. The main thing we wanted to achieve with the paint scheme was making sure it worked with our existing terracotta roof – a roof we didn’t want to paint. Obviously I know you CAN paint a terracotta roof, but when we looked into it, it seemed like firstly, one more cost, and secondly, not entirely recommended. Please correct me if I’m wrong – I know paint technologies are changing rapidly all the time – but a couple of companies told us that they wouldn’t actually spray-paint a glazed terracotta roof because it won’t stick under the harsh Perth sun.

Also, painting the roof seemed like just another cost, another thing to have to fork out for and maintain – when there were ways around it, like er, not painting the roof at all.

In the end we settled on a very simple colour palette of black and white. The black/charcoal is Dulux Monument, which turned out to be a good choice as Monument is also a Colorbond colour, so we could get gutters, fascias and the carport done in the same shade. The white is my favourite white, Dulux Natural White. (You CAN paint Scyon cladding any colour you want – I say this as a lot of people think they come in a limited number of colours, but they come pre-primed and you paint once installed). The black and white worked with the cedar feature wall and the terracotta roof, which, if you look closely, has tiny little bits of charcoal in it. I can say now that I honestly don’t mind the roof colour at all – I think it works, and the focus is on the cladding.

BEFORE

NOW

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I’m a little bit embarrassed that we haven’t yet painted the driveway and we still have to re-build the edging wall around the garden. Just envision that whole driveway freshly painted (thinking a light grey) and the back garden paving re-done too, and the lawn extended to the edge of the decking, and the side of the house where the utilities are, that dirt all paved and graveled… we’ll get there!

Now let’s head to the back for a peek – but first, do you remember what it used to look like, with 70s sunroom/sleepout? The sleepout was mission brown – we painted it white.

BEFORE

PHOTOBOMBERS: I realise these photos were taken over by the kids and Nala. It was not my intention, but I don’t think there is such a thing as a photoshoot at our house without the kids and dog thinking it’s all about them. Little Nerd screamed as if he was in physical pain when I told him to get out of a photo and to go play inside. Kids, I tell you. He LOVES Crystal (who took these pics) and is like a bee to honey when she is around.

AFTER

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It seems like we’ve had the deck forever, but it was only done this summer. That was a big piece of the puzzle – a beautiful new deck. I sort of can’t believe we’ve been here almost nine years and we’ve only just had the deck. I keep crapping on about it on social media, but it has been the biggest gamechanger. I’ll do another post about the deck and all the details. (When? Who can say). All our outdoor furniture was from Early Settler Furniture.

Already our place looks different from when we did the shoot – now the garden has boofed up even more. Recently the kids and I were driving home and I found like, 48 tons of century plants (agaves) and aloe vera on the side of the road during green waste collection (you might have seen my hoard on my Instastories).

I was SO happy. Century plants cost like, $42 at Bunnings these days! Crazy Bunnings people.

I promptly filled my car to the brim with them (thank you, greenwaste gifters) and I have planted those all over the garden en masse (stealing the garden idea of this Bayswater home tour which I just featured. Greenwaste collection is the best.

BEFORE

Turn your back for one second… he wasn’t meant to paint over the numbers.

We also now have a new/old/upcycled letterbox!

Mr Nerd mounted our old letterbox, which used to be kind of wonky because one evening when we first moved here, I reversed into it driving TO the pub.

I never loved that letterbox and it was on our list of ‘things to upgrade’ for like eight years. We looked at new ones, but finally Mr Nerd ripped the old box off the metal legs and mounted it to these jarrah sleepers and we painted the letterbox black. Learn from me: when an overly earnest three year old asks if he can help you paint something that everyone who comes to your house is going to see, don’t say “I don’t see why not”. JUST SAY NO. Walk away from the eyes. Just walk away.

Our neighbours also had a crappy letterbox, so we asked them if they also wanted to upgrade. It does kind of look like a horse hitching post.

For the most part we had great suppliers and tradespeople.

SUPPLIERS AND CONTRACTORS

Scyon Cladding From Scyon Walls

Carpentry and deck Cladding and cedar wall put up by Tim Phillips and his team from TJP Carpentry

Limestone retaining wall by carport Chris Reeve and his team from Landscape A Lot

New carport and patio Great Aussie Patios

New patio lights The Montauk Lighting Co

Outdoor furniture Early Settler Furniture

New gutters, fascias and downpipes Westcoat Roof and Gutter Restoration Specialists

Roof restoration Mr Nerd

Painting Us and our family members

The other week there was an old lady who was walking past our house and she said she’s lived in the area for 30 years and she always loved walking past our garden because it reminded her of her garden when she was a child.

“It has that wild feel to it,” she said, which I took as a compliment. She said she loved that there were so many different plants and flowers, which is basically because when it comes to gardens I change my mind all the time. At one stage I was like, “I want an English cottage style garden” and planted rosemary and lavender and gardenias. The next stage I was like, “We need more natives!” so I bought natives. (Now I’m obsessed with tropical plantings and succulents and also xeriscaping, which is drought-friendly gardens landscaped to need very minimal water). The end result is sort of a jumbled lot of plantings that would horrify any landscape designer, but we have frogs and blue tongue lizards and bandicoots and the two cutest little bearded dragons living in all that undergrowth. The old lady took some cuttings.

Now let’s head over to the sides of the house – the utilities wall first. You can see where we visibly got tired of rendering and just gave up… eight years ago.

WAY better with the cladding huh? We still have to tidy up the paving here, obviously.

BEFORE AFTER BEFORE

What do you do when you try to remove your ugly 60 Minutes security door, but the screws have actually rusted it into place permanently? You leave it up. And lean casually against it.

Our ‘new’ walled-in garage.

I can’t tell you how much more we love the house now – the cladding has transformed the way the house looks. So much more pleasant, less creepy-looking!

Now that the cladding is all done, I can’t stop envisioning the footpath paved in recycled red brick with a white grout, and the back yard paving all finished, and I also want to spray paint those sheds in our back garden black or Monument and string up festoon lights… we always say to each other, “And then we’ll do this, and then that’s it, no more renovating,” but I think in reality we’ll never stop, there will always be something more we will want to improve – but it’s fun. Maya x

The post Our Cladding Makeover Reveal appeared first on House Nerd.

from Home Improvement https://house-nerd.com/2019/06/21/cladding-makeover-reveal/

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democratsunited-blog · 6 years

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The 2-Party System Keeps Racism In Place

https://uniteddemocrats.net/?p=4039

The 2-Party System Keeps Racism In Place

Throughout slavery, Reconstruction and the movement for civil rights, African Americans in the U.S. have faced racism, social disparities, and oppression. While things have advanced for us significantly, black Americans still encounter subtle and blatant social disenfranchisement.

For instance, the United States has the highest incarceration rate in the world and the people behind bars in the U.S. are disproportionately black. Chronic diseases like diabetes, arthritis, HIV, and cancer are more prevalent and diagnosed at later stages in the black community due to poverty and harmful social and environmental conditions.

Why does this race-based oppression continue today? Academic research from universities such as Harvard and Stanford, and follow-up reports from the Kerner Commission as well as ordinary people, are questioning why we have not yet overcome these racial disparities. To truly understand why we as a country have not yet triumphed over race-based oppression, we have to look at the history of our political system, and at what I believe to be the fundamental failure that is two-party control of our democracy.

Political independence is the best choice for the black community to break from party control and gain greater political mobility.

For the last century or so, there have been two major political parties that candidates and voters can be affiliated with: Democrats and Republicans. These parties determine the shape of election districts, which candidates are on the ballot, who appears on televised debates, and how issues are brought before legislative bodies, among many other things. Two-party control of elections and government has been detrimental to the entire country for decades and has been truly harmful to black people for centuries.

I believe political independence is the best choice for the black community to break from party control and gain greater political mobility. At the local level, election districts are gerrymandered between the two parties, with blacks packed in Democratic Party-controlled districts. Closed party primaries allow the political machine to control the outcome by targeting these select groupings of voters.

Many people are already independent because they want to vote based on the quality of the candidate and not simply by party. The independent political movement is advocating for reforms to dismantle party control and give more power to voters, such as opening primaries to independent voters, nonpartisan citizen-led redistricting reform, and the rights to initiatives and referendums.

Being independent is about much more than voting. It is about shaping a process in which people of different backgrounds and communities can work together across barriers to create positive, overdue change.

More and more Americans, including people of color, are responding to the failure of party politics by becoming independents.

Democratic Party-elected officials have presided over the disregard for the health and safety of large numbers of blacks in cities such as Chicago and New York. In Chicago, Democratic Mayor Richard Daley Jr. promised the residents of the Cabrini-Green projects that after the projects were destroyed and new housing built, they would be able to return to the same community and live in better quality housing. Most of them were displaced.

In New York, Mayor Bill de Blasio, who was elected as a progressive Democrat, and his appointed managers at the New York City Housing Authority allowed children and families to be exposed to dangerous health hazards. They failed to conduct mandated lead paint inspections and allowed residents to live in unsafe conditions, including unchecked mold, lack of heat and dysfunctional elevators.

Black people have been associated with the Democratic Party for a long time, but that was not always the case. Both political parties were founded when most African Americans were still enslaved. It took a Civil War and 100 years of hard, bitter, relentless struggle and sacrifice for blacks to establish our citizenship rights.

The Democratic-Republican Party is the oldest party in America, formed in 1792 under Thomas Jefferson in opposition to the Federalists. It became known as the Democratic Party under President Andrew Jackson. It was the dominant party in the South, pro-slavery and violently racist. It was through the Democratic Party that the South established and maintained Jim Crow policy, lynching and segregation.

The Republican Party began as an anti-slavery party in 1856 and became the party of Abraham Lincoln, who won the presidency in 1860. It promoted a strong federal government. Immediately after the Civil War, African Americans began affiliating with the Republican Party.

One of the most destructive deals between the two parties was the compromise of 1877, in which the Republican Party withdrew Union troops from the South in exchange for the presidency for Rutherford B. Hayes. The agreement abandoned the recently freed people to the Southern Redeemers, who were intent on the re-enslavement of African Americans under a different system, which became known as Jim Crow.

After Reconstruction and until the 1960s, the South remained a one-party region. The Democratic Party disenfranchised blacks and held closed, all-white elections. Northern Democrats acquiesced to these discriminatory policies. And Franklin Delano Roosevelt refused to support any of the anti-lynching bills that were proposed during his long presidency.

During the ’60s in the North, the Democratic Party started to support civil rights to appeal to the increasing numbers of African Americans who were migrating to Northern cities. At the same time, the Republican Party pushed out African Americans, turning to the South to gain votes with racist appeals to whites. Part of this strategy included Barry Goldwater, the 1964 Republican presidential candidate voting against the Civil Rights Bill.

Republicans and Democrats alike, including Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, and Bill Clinton, all used anti-black law-and-order rhetoric to appeal to white voters. In 2008, Barack Obama was elected president by a diverse coalition that crossed party and racial divides and included independents, African Americans and young voters hoping for a new political direction.

True political empowerment requires the black community moving beyond being the loyal constituency of any political party.

In the 2016 election, voters were searching for a way to disrupt the political establishment and now have the administration of President Donald Trump. We’re currently at the height of political dysfunction and division in America. More and more Americans, including people of color, are responding to the failure of party politics by becoming independents.

Independent political identification is highest for younger members of the African American community. The journey toward political independence in the black community won’t be easy. African Americans have been a key part of some of the most transformative developments in American history, including the abolition of slavery and the movement toward civil rights.

Democrats will not want to lose a major portion of their voting demographic. But Americans of all races ― liberals, progressives and moderates ― would do well to follow the black community out of the Democratic Party and toward political independence.

The black community needs innovative approaches to quality in education, health care, housing, youth development, police-community relations and much more. Imagine how the black community would benefit from an effective approach to public education that actually helped students to learn and grow. Imagine real opportunity for poor youth to become part of the mainstream economy.

True political empowerment requires that the black community move beyond being the loyal constituency of any political party.

Dismantling structural racism demands political independence. Fused with the black community’s force of moral conscience and leadership, such a movement toward independence can transform American democracy and overcome the legacy of two-party control.

Dr. Jessie Fields is on the board of Open Primaries, a national election-reform group. She is also a founding member and activist with the New York City Independence Club and a Harlem-based primary care physician.

#Democrats

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charlesccastill · 6 years

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Historic Massachusetts Hall to undergo renovation, preserving legacy

By Rachel Traughber

Harvard Correspondent

It’s been a dormitory, an army barracks, a lecture hall, an observatory, administrative offices. With a birthday in 1720, it’s older than the United States.

In its almost 300 years, Massachusetts Hall, the oldest surviving Harvard building, has stood as silent witness to the continuous metamorphosis of the campus and community surrounding it. From housing the Continental Army during the Revolution in 1775‒76 to surviving a devastating fire in 1924, the building’s resilience is largely due to meticulous preservation and maintenance spanning centuries.

Long-anticipated renovations will begin this summer and continue that tradition, preserving the building’s legacy while also bringing it into the 21st century. Significant updates include achieving compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act by installing an elevator and renovating bathrooms; improving the building’s energy efficiency by adding insulation to the roof and recorking the window panes; repairing the exterior clock; and upgrading information technology infrastructure, among other changes.

A view of Massachusetts Hall during renovations in 1924.

Courtesy of the Harvard University Archives, HUV 30 (4-4)

“The upkeep of a building like Massachusetts Hall requires significant attention to historical preservation in addition to the typical maintenance work,” said Harvard Executive Vice President Katie Lapp. “These long-overdue renovations will also ensure that the building is contributing to University goals to reduce on-campus greenhouse gas emissions, while making it as accessible as possible to all members of the community.”

The building will be unoccupied over the summer while renovations take place, reopening just before the 2018‒19 school year begins.

While the exterior of the 98-foot-long brick structure has largely remained the same over time, the interior has been modified to reflect changing needs and uses.

The original blueprint from 1718

Massachusetts Hall was designed and built between 1718 and 1720 by Harvard President John Leverett with input from his successor, Benjamin Wadsworth. The original blueprint for it is a spare, meticulous pen-and-ink drawing. Doors, windows, hallways, and chimneys are clearly labeled and measured, while small stars indicate studies, tiny 5-feet-by-4½-feet enclosed spaces in each room that were used to store coal in the 1800s. The building was erected with funds from the commonwealth of Massachusetts — £3,500, or approximately $570,000 today.

Courtesy of the Harvard University Archives, UAI 15.10.5

The back of the original blueprint contains handwritten instructions.

Art paints an early picture

Among the earliest exterior representations of the hall are a painting by William Burgis (1726) and an engraving by Paul Revere (1767). While the building in those images remains fairly constant, the world around it has drastically changed in the intervening decades. For instance, Harvard Hall burned to the ground and was reconstructed, buildings were added to the campus, and subtle social and political messages were relayed.

“The wall seems to really run right through the middle of the [Revere] image, dividing the Yard between those who have access and those who don’t have access,” said Ethan Lasser, the head of the Division of European and American Art and the Theodore E. Stebbins Jr. Curator of American Art at the Harvard Art Museums. “Outside the walls of the Yard, there’s this world of sociability, commerce, and coupling, while inside the walls you have these kinds of solitary, robed, academic figures. It’s quite a contrast in the way [Revere] set that up — academic life versus the world outside, and what he’s trying to say about who is in and who is out.”

Westerly view of the Colledges in Cambridge, New England, Paul Revere, 1767. This engraving marks a departure from Revere’s typical silversmithing work, reflecting the economic needs of the time. With growing political and financial unrest between the British government and the American colonies, creating and selling teapots was no longer a lucrative business.

Courtesy of the Harvard Fine Arts Library, Digital Images and Slides Collection

A Prospect of the Colledges in Cambridge in New England, William Burgis, 1726.

Courtesy of the Harvard Fine Arts Library, Digital Images and Slides Collection

The building stays, but the students change. Over the years, Harvard’s student body grew in size and demographic. Students admitted to the Class of 2022 come from 50 states, 90 countries, and are among the most diverse in terms of gender and background.

Video by Kai-Jae Wang; photos courtesy of the Harvard University Archives, HUV 30 (2-3a, 2-1, 6-2, 10-1b) and by Stephanie Mitchell/Harvard Staff Photographer

George Washington’s army leaves a mess

When 640 members of Gen. George Washington’s army took up residence during the Revolutionary War, the damage they caused resulted in some of the earliest recorded renovations to the building, forcing the College to replace doorknobs, broken locks, wood, and glass that the army confiscated or destroyed. In 1778, the commonwealth of Massachusetts reimbursed Harvard £417, approximately $50,000 in today’s adjusted dollars, for repairs to the hall and other campus buildings.

Courtesy of the Harvard University Archives, UAI 5.120

Text from the back of the letter from Harvard College to the commonwealth of Massachusetts:

“Account of the damages done to the Colledges by the Army after April 19th, 1775, which remain to be made good after the first repairs were made previous to the return of the Scholars to Cambridge, after estimate of the subscribers committee appointed for that purpose by the General Court.

Damages to Massachusetts Hall

27 brass knoblocks for chamber doors

1 knob latch for D

60 box locks for studies

1 large stock lock for a cellar door

62 rolls of paper

60 yards of paint

Other damages”

Historic status sets rules for renovations

In 1977, the hall was officially recognized as a National Historic Landmark by the National Park Service, highlighting it as a location that “possess[ed] exceptional value or quality in illustrating or interpreting the heritage of the United States.” Along with that designation came specific rules about how and when renovations can be done to the building. Sourcing bricks in the cut, color, and size popular in 1720, matching the exact color and consistency of 300-year-old mortar, and re-creating the wooden gutters are among the challenges facing renovation teams.

National Park Service

A timeless room

The Perkins conference room is one of the few spaces in the building retained during 20th-century renovations. Over the past 100 years alone, lecture halls, double-height reading rooms stretching between the first and second floors, and dorm rooms have been converted to other uses.

USE THE SLIDER TO SEE HOW THE PERKINS CONFERENCE ROOM LOOKED IN 1943

1939 schematic.

Perkins images courtesy of Shepley Bulfinch, Stephanie Mitchell/Harvard Staff Photographer, and the Harvard University Archives HUV 30 (10-10)

1924 fire forces major renovation

The exterior of the building hasn’t always fared well either. In 1924, a devastating fire roared through the top two floors, incinerating dorm rooms (and almost destroying original, single copies of three economics students’ freshly submitted theses. The papers were barely rescued in time.) Theories about the fire’s cause flew around campus, from a rogue bird or mouse nest using a match as building material to a discarded, lit match from Matthews Hall carried by the wind.

Harvard students and local firefighters banded together to fight the blaze.

Courtesy of the Harvard University Archives, Stephanie Mitchell/Harvard Staff Photographer

Scaffolding covers Massachusetts Hall in 1925.

Courtesy of Harvard University Archives

Tick tock … occasionally

The original Massachusetts Hall clock, which graced its western wall facing Harvard Square, was mounted in 1725. It came with a bell and a steward, who was responsible for maintaining both, at a salary of £4. Well-represented in visual records of the hall from 1726 forward, the original clock is long gone. Through the intervening years, the space it occupied has been home to many successors, including a broken clock, a fake clock, no clock at all, and a painting of a clock.

This summer, a canvas scrim with a clock face similar to the original has been installed as the actual clock undergoes restoration and maintenance.

The Massachusetts Hall clock in 2015.

Stephanie Mitchell/Harvard file photo

In his 1802 math thesis, Harvard undergraduate Alexander Townsend used Massachusetts Hall as his subject material to study angles of declination, elevation, and depression. His pen and ink drawing includes one of the more detailed depictions of the exterior clock from this time, complete with sundial face and Roman numerals.

Courtesy of the Harvard University Archives, HUC 8782.514

In 1935, the clock was decorative only, as this excerpt from the Boston Herald attests. At the time, the building was a dormitory and lecture hall.

Boston Herald, Harvard University Archives

This summer’s renovations will restore the most recent version, installed in 1992. Creating and installing a clock that matched the spirit of the original involved at least four types of experts: those who specialized in the clock’s mechanics, an artisan who created and crafted the face, a construction firm that helped with building and placement, and a restoration architect who made sure the clock closely matched the available records.

(Reprinted with permission from the Harvard Gazette.)

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