#ALSO HI LAURA hope you like this!! it was a pleasure to paint you you magnificent creature

[alexturne]

The Car review – aching songs of soured dreams (The Guardian)

⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Sillitoe spirit … Arctic Monkeys.

Alex Turner’s vocals are majestic on this retro-styled, tactile album that delves into the effort behind maintaining a glamorous facade

Laura Barton, Tue 18 Oct 2022 18.22 BST

When Arctic Monkeys sprang into the charts 16 years ago, they did so with a hurtling energy and an album name borrowed from Alan Sillitoe’s novel Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. At the time, the band’s lead singer, Alex Turner, explained their reasoning: the record’s stories were similarly drawn from the threshold of the weekend – one foot in the hopeful glamour of the previous night, the other in the plain reality of the morning after. In the years since, it’s been hard not to also regard the title of Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not as a statement of creative intent: a desire to buck musical expectation, to not repeat whatever came before. Across six albums the band have moved wilfully from indie to rock to funk to, on their last outing – 2018’s Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino, a collection of songs that married Serge Gainsbourg and the Beach Boys.

That Sillitoe spirit carries through to the band’s seventh album, The Car, a record that returns us to that Janus-like space in which Turner’s songwriting thrives, and performs yet another stylistic flip. Produced by James Ford, who has worked with the band since their second record, Favourite Worst Nightmare, this time the sound is largely strings, sultriness, honeyed soul, Turner taking the lounge singer tradition and twisting it this way and that. For all the retro stylings, the effect is surprisingly contemporary, the lushness tempered by something sour and dark: the electronic growl that opens Sculptures of Anything Goes, the twinkling lope beneath Body Paint, the tension between the wah wah guitars of Jet Skis on the Moat and the mundanity of Turner’s lyrics. “Are you just happy to sit there,” he wonders flatly, “and watch while the paint job dries?”

In the lead up to The Car’s release, much has been made of the evolution of Turner’s voice. In the early days it was lean and hard and northern, sitting somewhere between the nose and the throat. Today it has grown warmer, fuller, with a burnished depth. It’s lighter than that of his clear influence Richard Hawley, and given to sudden upward sweeps, as on the sublime closer Perfect Sense. There are shades of Frankies-era Holly Johnson here, perhaps – or, in its combination of northernness, cadence and soul, Mick Hucknall in Simply Red’s pre-Stars heyday. This is perhaps not a comparison for which the band or Ford were reaching, but nevertheless it produces something irresistible: it’s a pleasure to hear Turner steer his voice so masterfully along There’d Better Be a Mirrorball, all aching, sweet-souled romance.

If Arctic Monkeys’ early songs told of the dramas of sprawling nights out – anticipation, electropop, dancefloors; lotharios, riot vans, jumbled taxi rides home – then the subject-matter on The Car is not so very far removed. They might now talk of the Riviera, jet skis and photo shoots, but the idea remains that there is something awry behind this glittering world of mirrorballs and disco strobes, marble, chandeliers, spotlights. The champagne is travel-sized, the apartment is dusty, the heart is predictably heavy. A lot of the songs on The Car carry an unsettledness – a sense of constant movement, nods to the touring life, and “the business they call show” as Turner sings it. The album opens with a farewell and ends on a goodnight, and in between brings us a series of dislocated scenes and flickering images – climbing up this, jumping off that, “singing in Spanish on Italian TV sometime in the future”. In the sublime Hello You, we’re carried on a brief rural journey that feels like a breath of fresh air – overtaking tractors, waiting for the road’s winds and bends to level out, “picking your moment on a country lane, the kind where the harmonies feel right at home”.

Arctic Monkeys’ Alex Turner: ‘I’m comfortable with the idea that things don’t have to be a pop song’.

It’s impossible not to feel immersed in such imagery. The Car is an enormously tactile record, full of strange textures – a lint-roller runs over velveteen, body paint clings to legs, arms, face, and tears are cried in a tanning booth. Things may look glamorous, but it all takes so much effort, and the truth keeps poking through. It’s hard to discern whether Turner is making a commentary here on the life brought about by fame and success, a desire to go back to the start, or whether it’s a riposte to critics’ fondness for wondering whether his lyrical observations can remain so compelling now he breathes the rarefied air of the international pop star. “I’ve snorkelled on the beaches fruitlessly,” he sings on Hello You. “Why not rewind to Rawborough Snooker Club? / I could pass for seventeen if I just get a shave and catch some Zs.”

Perhaps in truth the Arctic Monkeys never belonged in either. Perhaps they are right at home where they are: somewhere mid-air, forever caught between Saturday night and Sunday morning: perfect chroniclers of both.

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #matt helders #jamie cook #nick o'malley #the car #review

[the-and-sign-anon]

Help From The Vet

Guardian Angel: Chapter Six

Teen Wolf x Stilinski! Reader

Word count: 1,519

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

You tried looking up what you could about the necklace you’d found and the dreams you had, but there wasn’t much. Your situation was bizarre and uncommon. No one online had any experience. So you turned to someone your brother had mentioned knew more about the supernatural than any of you. 

“Good morning, Miss Stilinski. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You smiled nervously at the kind veterinarian.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I have some questions I’m hoping you can help me answer. They’re sort of… sensitive.”

Deaton nodded knowingly and beckoned you to the back room. You slipped past the gate and sat on a stool at the table as Deaton set aside a few tools and looked at you expectantly. 

“Scott and Stiles said you know things about the supernatural.”

“I do.”

“Do you know how to tell if something is supernatural even if it looks normal?”

“What might you be referring to?”

You pulled the necklace off and held it out to him. 

“It sort of glows. Even in the sunlight.”

“That could be from a chemical reaction or a special paint.”

“I also found it in the woods. In my sleep.”

Deaton studied you for a moment before taking a seat himself and setting the necklace between you. 

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

You spent nearly an hour answering his questions and providing as much detail as you could remember. You’d had the dreams for several years. The only person you ever mentioned them to was your dad, but he told you people had odd recurring dreams all the time, so you ignored it for a while. 

“Was this morning the first time you’ve woken up in the forest?”

You heard a dog in one of the kennels barking, but Deaton gestured for you to answer.

“Kind of.” At his questioning look, you elaborated. “I go for walks a lot. When I do, I sort of go on autopilot. Every single time, when I snap out of it, I’m in the Beacon Hills reserve in the same area. I’ve even sleep walked before, but I never made it to the tree. Today was the first time I can remember seeing it in person.”

“Interesting.”

Deaton got up and moved to one of the kennels, trying to calm the yapping dog as he thought. You followed, and the barking stopped when you got within three feet of the dog. Deaton looked to you, then motioned for you to move further away. You complied and the barking started up again. 

“Come closer again.”

You did. The room went quiet.

“Very interesting.”

“Deaton, what does that mean? Should I be worried about… whatever is wrong with me?”

“I don’t think anything is wrong with you, but I’ll need some time to figure this out. Is it alright if I keep the necklace for now? I’ll keep it safe.”

A part of you almost said no. That necklace, for whatever reason, had called to you. It had waited for you in a tree for who knows how long and now that you’d found it, you didn’t want to part with it. 

“Yeah, of course. You’ll call me when you have something?”

“Absolutely. Now I suggest you go rest. You look exhausted.”

You nodded. You got that a lot. So while Stiles and the others went to school and argued over how to deal with whatever new violent creature was plaguing the town, you went back home, curled up under the covers, and passed out for the rest of the day. 

Stiles woke you up late that evening to talk. He was worried about Lydia, who’d started screaming and pounding on the ice at the rink they’d gone to with Scott and Allison. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with her. I want to help, but I don’t even know where to start.”

“I get it. Worrying about friends is hard, especially when you can’t figure out how to help.”

“Was that how you felt with Derek? After the fire?”

You were sitting on the couch together with ice cream and blankets. 

“Yeah. He wasn’t around for long after. I visited Peter sometimes; not that I thought he could hear me or anything. It just felt like the right thing to do. When Derek and Laura left, I didn’t know how to get in touch with him. I wasn’t sure he wanted me to.”

“Well, he was dumb to lose touch with you. You’re awesome.”

“You’re my little brother. Of course you’d say that.”

“Doesn’t make it less true.”

You rolled your eyes fondly at him and he smiled brightly back at you. 

“Okay. Enough about Lydia. What’s been going on with you? You seem tired and dad said you were out early this morning.”

“Nothing to worry about, Sty. I just went for an early walk. I’ve spent the rest of the day right here, catching up on sleep.”

You and Stiles were both prone to worrying. It had been that way since you were little. And when one of you started, you tended to pull the other into the spiral unless they pulled you out of it first.

“I promise I’m okay.”

He nodded. You weren’t sure how much he really believed you, but he let it go for now and went to bed. You didn’t hear much from him the following day, but you ended up at the ice rink the next night. Boyd was there with Derek, Isaac, Erica, and Scott. You weren’t in the mood for whatever power play they were making. So you stalked across the ice in your sweatpants and hoodie with a scowl on your face. 

“Isaac?”

“Well, I’m a little bummed about being a fugitive... but, other than that, I’m great.”

“Boys. Erica. What stupid cat fight do I have to pull apart this time?”

All five wolves whirled around to face you with varying expressions of surprise. 

“Y/N, go back to bed. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Hale. You and I both know that’s not how this works.”

Erica looked the most annoyed with your arrival. Isaac looked conflicted; like he was torn between staying at his alpha’s side and running to you. Derek wanted to say something to stay in charge in front of his pack, but he knew you had your own ways of making him regret it if he did.

“Scott. Go home. In fact, all of the minors here should be fast asleep in their own beds. Derek and I need to have a conversation.”

A conversation with you looked like the last thing Derek was in the mood for. He knew as well as Scott did that you were furious. The other teens weren’t nearly familiar enough with you to know better, as evidenced by how they bared their teeth and flashed their claws at you. To your credit, you didn’t back down. You didn’t even acknowledge them, opting instead to have a stare down with Derek. 

“Fine. Isaac, Erica, go. Boyd too.”

Scott trailed after them on the way out. He tried to give you an apologetic look, but you weren’t having it. 

“Go make sure Stiles gets home safe. I don’t need any more problems tonight.”

Once he was gone, it was just you and Derek.

“You-”

“Don’t. Not until we’re off the stupid ice. It’s freezing in here.”

You led the way to your car in the now empty lot and sat in the driver’s seat while Derek pouted in shotgun. 

“I don’t want to hear any excuses or speeches about power. You need to understand that those are kids you’re turning. No matter what they’re capable of, no matter how ready they think they are. They’re kids. They need an alpha who will look after them. Not a trainer who treats them like guard dogs.”

“I know-”

“I don’t think you do. You remember what it was like in high school. You remember Paige and what it felt like to lose her. These kids cannot go through what you have. I won’t let you sacrifice them for power or a fight against some threat we don’t understand yet. Swear to me that if it comes down to power or their lives, you’ll choose them.”

Derek turned to you with a world of determination in his eyes when he answered. 

“They’re my pack, my responsibility. I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You dropped Derek off, giving him a tight hug before he got out of the car. Stiles demanded to be filled in on what had happened, so you told him as you went back to your room. 

“You know you’re the coolest, right?”

“I’m vengeful, if anything.”

“You have an alpha scared of you. Awesome.”

You snickered and closed your door behind you. All you could do right now was prevent a war between overly aggressive werewolves and wait to see what bizarre issues you yourself had. What a wonderful life.

Next Chapter

#teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x Stilinski! reader #reader insert #female reader #teen wolf x reader series #guardian angel #guardian angel series #guardian angel chapter six #my writing #haven writes

[jarofrebuke-transcripts]

Jar of Rebuke Episode 3 Unofficial Transcript

Season 1 Episode 3: Cherry Tobacco

INTRO

The following audio recording is classified documentation for Case [audio distortion] with the Enclosure. Unauthorized access to this information will lead to immediate intervention. Progress further if proper clearance has been given.

JARED

I really need to get into the habit of doing this more often. Dr. Daman keeps asking how this is going, but I rarely have anything to tell her that she seems to want to hear. She really wants me to do this regularly, but sitting at my desk with a sore back didn't sound too appealing, especially if I didn't have to. Even though my back is feeling a bit better after the snipe hunt tournament incident, I'm actually recording this from a bed and breakfast. And I'm tired. Not even a vacation, it's more of a work trip. Not terribly much has happened since my last update. Darius's birthday was recently. He had a little get-together with some friends and he even invited me along, which was really nice. I made sure to get there a little early especially since it was a day off of work for me. We met up at Waytooth, a restaurant that his dads and him frequent often. I got there and just sat outside for a bit fiddling on my phone, then Darius showed up. He was so excited for the party, I could tell. He smiled the second we made eye contact. He jogged over to me and we talked for a bit. The weather is still pretty nice, it's finally starting to get chillier, which is actually nicer, I prefer the layers. So we sat outside and enjoyed the weather as we talked until his other friends showed up. They were all nice, but I kind of stuck by Darius most of the day since he was the only one that I really knew.

After lunch, we all went to a drive-in theater that they've got set up here in town, which is mostly just a projector and a large painted brick wall, but it was still a nice time. His friends all sat in different cars as we watched the movie, but Darius and I sat in the bed of his truck and ate snacks that he had packed. Darius is a really good cook. He's learning a lot of cool stuff from that class he's taking. I gave him a little gift, of course. Well, two things. I got him a new wrench set since he'd been saying that he needed a new one, his old one's been a bit worn down for a while. Uh, gifts to give him in front of his friends, since he really plays up the whole inheriting the family farm shtick around them. But we, when we were in his truck, just the two of us, I gave him his second gift. He said he had really gotten into cross stitching recently and he seemed a little embarrassed about it. But I wanted him to know that I thought that was interesting, so I got him a little pack of stitching patterns and some thread organizers. I wasn't sure what kind of patterns he'd like, so I just got him a couple of different kinds. He was quiet for a few moments after he opened that gift and I kind of panicked for a moment honestly. But he then gave me a really big smile and put his hand on my shoulder. He gave me a really soft thank you and I told him it was my pleasure, as long as he made me something. It was an obvious joke, at least I hoped it was obvious. But he asked what I'd want. I told him I like birds. Birds have so much freedom to just fly around and always sing such pretty songs. Besides geese, I don't like geese. He asked me if I had any favorites. I said I like blue jays. Major assholes, but beautiful. He laughed and he said he'd give it his best shot, but I told him that I’d hang up anything he made me. And that was about it. We barely watched the movie, we spent most of the time quietly talking actually.

What else have I done? Well, Dr. Castillo and I went and investigated the energy signatures from the cornfields after Todd told us to do so and you know what we found? Corn. That's it. Oh, and more corn! No energy spikes, no signs of tomfoolery of the natural or supernatural kind, nothing. It was almost strange how untouched by supernatural energies it seemed. We investigated during the day and at night. No changes. So we've been keeping tabs on the fields but nothing that's been too notable has happened when we're out there. We've been passing a lot of our time in the labs reorganizing files going over the energy spikes that have been recorded and theorizing what we could possibly be dealing with there. But until we can further examine it, there is not much we can do. Ever since they replaced my old lab partner my workload has been much lighter. I actually prefer to be busy than bored, and I think Dr. Castillo isn't used to having idle hands either. They only ever give me small menial tasks and it's becoming more annoying than anything else. But I did recently see my old lab partner, Dr. Lomax in the hall this morning. I've seen them in passing a few times but we haven't been able to catch up much since the sudden change. Dr. Lomax also has no idea why they got suddenly switched to a different lab. Seems that none of us know why the change was made. All Todd said was “just had to rearrange some staff, don't worry about it!”

Speaking of, before I left work today, I got another email from Todd. Typically his emails are him asking us to do something and then him talking himself up for multiple paragraphs and making it seem like it should be a privilege to do what he's asking you to do. But this email was him actually giving me lodging information for the local inn, and explaining that I had to pack up a bag and go. They apparently planned to do renovations or something on my house due to a concern of faulty plumbing. I'd mentioned to Dr. Daman about the less-than-stellar heating system when I wanted to take a bath or do dishes, but I didn't expect anyone to actually do anything about it. But a night without weird tapping on my door sounded nice, and even though I replied to the email basically saying “oh no, you really don't have to, I can live with it”, Todd insisted. I could just see his smug smile on the other side of the screen. He'll subtly hold it over my head for later, but the rule of one denial for good polite measure then acceptance of an offer had been met and I was off home to pack a bag. And here I am now.

The Chronicle Inn bed and breakfast is run by an older married couple, Ester and Laura. I'd met them a few times before my stay here but I hadn't spent much time with them. This place is mostly a restaurant and homemade goods store rather than an inn, considering we don't get many outsiders who stay here any longer than to grab a bite to eat and get gas. But for times like these it's nice to have an inn available. Even if it's only a few rooms, it's much better than staying at the facilities that the enclosure has on site. Work would have likely put me into a temporary on-site lodging space if the inn wasn't available. To be honest I'm surprised they actually put me in the end instead of just tossing me into some temp lodging room for a night. Maybe they remembered how much I hate that place. It's nearly impossible to sleep with the buzzing lights and the beds really aren't made for comfort and the bathrooms are all so claustrophobic. I swear, they make that place as uncomfortable as possible so people want to leave. That, or they just skimped on the prices for a comfortable setup to focus the money elsewhere at the Enclosure. I'd believe that. Though maybe they booked me at this place to have me investigate something while I'm here. Can't even enjoy this nice little one-night getaway, huh? They expect me to work? Do they plan to pay me for looking into things overnight? Probably not, not like they ever pay me for the full work I do anyways.

The room I’m in is kinda known for weird happenings. The whole town knows but there's not a huge fuss over it. No one's died from it, so why be too concerned? Ester warned me about these weird happenings while I was checking in. There's word of a spirit that haunts the upper floor of the building. Been here for as long as anyone can recall. She explained it all to me with a smile and a jovial tone, so she doesn't seem concerned. After the literal run-in with the deer a few weeks ago, I really just wanted some rest. Her wife Laura told me that they serve breakfast at 7 am but they'll be at the desk to take my key as early as 6. Thankfully tomorrow my shift starts at 8 instead of the usual 6 so I might be able to actually get some real food in me before work.

Didn't take me too long to get up here and settled in. I decided to just relax today instead of going out into town. So I did some reading in bed. Not that I could really focus much, the bed here is nice and cozy, but there's definitely a vibe about it. The room, not the bed. The rest of the inn is very homey, lived in, but in a good way. But the second I got to the top of the stairs it was like the air got barely but still noticeably cooler. When I came into the room I saw a little baggie of homemade beef jerky that Ester made and gave me. She's known around town for her jerkies and her woodwork. She's always so hands-on with everything she makes, whether it's snacks or a new set of chairs. She may have actually made the chair I'm sitting in right now, actually. I sat outside for a bit. There's a nice balcony that looks over some gardens and in the far distance I can see the vast fields. The evening felt so nice and I could see the little lightning bugs flying around as I got darker. I've always liked watching their dances. I often watch kids running around catching them in jars and then letting them all go just minutes later, but I prefer to watch them do their own thing out in nature. I watched the stars and the flicking lights of the lightning bugs for a bit, sipped on some sweet tea that Laura had brewed and offered me, ate some of the jerky that Ester made, and relaxed. I let my mind wander to wherever it went off to which as usual was all over the place. But no tapping on the doors, no weird deer staring at me, it was nice. But I keep feeling like something, or someone, is watching me. I feel that pretty often but this is different. It feels closer, if that makes sense. Like right now I'm sitting in a plush chair by the window in the room looking over the nice herb garden out back. The stars are still twinkling, the wind is just slightly blowing, and I've been able to crack the window open for some breeze. But I feel like something is watching me from the doorway. I swear to gods if I turn around and someone is standing there... (deep inhale) nope, nothing.

When Ester was telling me about what I could possibly expect, she said that a spirit had been wandering around in the room I'm staying in. Sometimes the spirit watches people. Sometimes the spirit just walks around and ignores the tenants. Must depend on her mood. But apparently something about the blue lamp by the bedside table really draws her out. Considering my line of work, and that my boss sent me here, I'm obviously going to turn on the light. Even if she's not rumored to be particularly dangerous, if they're just wanting to keep me busy then I could see Todd throwing me here to look into it a bit more. Okay. Hold on, give me a sec, let me see what happens. [lamp clicks on] It's a pretty light. I don't think I've seen a light this shade of blue outside of some of the lights they put up around town in the winter. It's nice. Oh, uh... hello? I don't know if she can hear me but I do see someone standing by the door, on the other side of the room, and um, [sniffs] tobacco?

THE BLUE LADY

I can hear you just fine.

JARED

[startled] Ah! Sorry about that. how are you?

THE BLUE LADY

Why do you ask?

JARED

Manners, I guess? Should I ask- who are you?

THE BLUE LADY

I don't think it really matters now. Besides, it's better I ask who you are.

JARED

Oh, uh, Dr. Jared Hel. I'm a scientist with the Enclosure on the edge of town. I…

THE BLUE LADY

WHO you are, not what you are. I know what you are.

JARED

...What I am is a person who would like to get some rest.

THE BLUE LADY

No, what you are is different. At least different from what I remember.

JARED

From what you remember? Have we met before?

THE BLUE LADY

Not exactly. “Met” isn't the word I would use. But we've interacted.

JARED

How so..?

THE BLUE LADY

I've watched you from afar, I've seen what you do. I guess our paths have more indirectly crossed.

JARED

I've never studied you before. You're not exactly the kind of thing that the enclosure typically sends me to study.

THE BLUE LADY

Then why are you here?

JARED

Well, work decided to fix the plumbing in my house so they put me up here. To get some rest.

THE BLUE LADY

And yet you're not here to study me?

JARED

Well that's actually unclear, I guess. I mean, if they're going to book me in the most haunted room at an inn, I guess they're having me investigate. Or Todd's just messing with me. That seems like something he'd pull.

THE BLUE LADY

Messing with you? [scoffs] When did you start putting up with the antics of people like that?

JARED

Okay, I'm gonna be upfront- if we met more than two years ago I have zero memory of any of that time. So this vague, cryptic talk is going to get you nowhere.

THE BLUE LADY

What are you doing with that thing?

JARED

[rustling sound] This it's an audio journal. It takes less focus and energy than writing. Are you just gonna keep staring at me or..?

THE BLUE LADY

People don't usually understand me this well for full conversations, so it has been quite a while. It isn't as if Ester and Laura can clearly understand me, even if they have tried.

JARED

How long have you been here?

THE BLUE LADY

Longer than I can remember. The rumor is that I've been here since the establishment of this town, whenever that may have been.

JARED

And when did we meet? I mean interact indirectly.

THE BLUE LADY

For the first time? It was many, many years ago. But again, you've certainly changed.

JARED

But again, I don't remember. You keep saying that and, [winces in pain] oh god my head!

THE BLUE LADY

We won't be getting very far right now.

JARED

No wait wait wait no hold on hold on.... and she's gone. [slams fist on table] Damn it! Why won't anyone just tell me anything outright? Oh my head... it's always like this. They disappear for a while and then come back so suddenly. Oh I hate this flesh prison! I'm done recording for now I need to try and nurse this headache now and recover from whatever the hell… oh it seems she left a little gift. Some blue ribbon? It's maybe four or five inches long, a little frayed at the ends. It's the same color as the lamp. There's something written on it. The handwriting's a bit hard to read but it looks like “you need to remember”. Remember what? How am I supposed to remember if no one ever tells me anything? Everyone always pushes me to try and remember but there's nothing to remember if they're making me grasp at thin air! They say they support me, they say they want to help, but what do they do to help, huh? All of this performative support is getting me nowhere. [facing away from recorder] And how is this ribbon supposed to help? You couldn't have given me something a little less vague? [groans] Why is everyone always so damn vague? Are they scared to just say something concrete? Why can't anyone ever give me a straight answer! No, it's fine. It's fine. I'm just… I'm going to go to bed. Right. I'm going to get some sleep. No tapping, no knocking, just sleep. I'm gonna go turn off the lamp and get some rest. Right. Ugh. Whatever. This is Dr. Jared Hel, signing off, I guess.

OUTRO

Jar of Rebuke is written and produced by Casper Oliver, who is also the voice of Dr. Jared Hel. Voice of The Blue Lady provided by Misha Bakshi. The intro is read by Vanessa Rosengrant, and credits are read by Ashley Craft, who has created the podcast official graphics. Music was created by Luke Menniss, spelled m-e-n-n-i-s-s, who you can find and support on Bandcamp, Spotify and Twitch. Find us on Twitter, Instagram and anywhere else you get your podcast fix for more Jar of Rebuke and also to get updates on upcoming official merch for our show. Support projects by this crew on Patreon to further other queer-lead projects and get neat perks. All donations are appreciated and will grant further clearance to special Jar of Rebuke content. You can also make one-time donations on Ko-fi. And special thanks to our patreon supporters Becky Thompson, Perry Bruns, and Tristan Fraud.

#jar of rebuke #jar of rebuke podcast #jar of rebuke transcripts #jor podcast

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @hotaruyuki!

I hope you, and everybody else will enjoy this little thing.

Read on AO3

*****

Two Potted Pines and a Hole in the Wall

It’s movie worthy, definitely not something that should happen on an ordinary Tuesday shortly before December. And yet it happens at precisely seven minutes to ten on that very Tuesday morning, while Derek’s in the middle of decorating the two small trees his sister had brought from the nursery, the smell of baking bread and cooling cookies hanging mouth watering in the air.

For a few weeks workers had been in and out of the space next door, bringing with them the ruckus of power tools and people yelling to be heard above said tools. The noise had been annoying, grating on his nerves, but he’d taken comfort from the fact they usually didn’t start before seven or later and that they’d eventually be done, not to mention they’d been good for business. Soon they’d packed up their things and left at the end of one day not being there the next.

It hadn’t been deserted though; Derek had seen the back of someone going through the door, had heard what could be furniture being dragged across the floor and various other noises indicating there would probably be a shop next to Derek’s soon. But today’s been quiet, and like he’s done every year since Laura conned him into opening his little bakery, Derek - after the morning rush was over and Isaac had left for class - turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and got lost in the task of decorating.

A pounding sound pulls Derek from his thoughts, and once he’s focused on it he can’t ignore it. Lifting his head he is met by the expected sight of the beverage making machinery and the stacks of to-go-cups, the open floor space between that and the counter, the old fashioned looking till at one end and the pick-up station closest to where he currently is, with various syrups, stirrers, packaged sugar, sweetener and creamer and a million other things he doesn’t care about and the existence of which he’s outsourced to his manager, Erica, who knows about these things. (Derek bakes, everything else is Laura’s fault. Thankfully she also hired Erica without whom he’d be lost).

The sound is familiar but before Derek can make out what it might be it suddenly grows louder, morphs into something akin to smashing porcelain (not a single plate, but the entire cabinet) followed by a bemused “eum… oops,” raising questioningly at the end. Turning, the pretzel shaped ornament he was about to hang on the tree still dangling from between his fingers, Derek finally locates the source of the noise. In the wall Derek’s shop shares with the one next door - the wall Derek had thought was a solid concrete common wall - is a hole that might be big enough for him to wiggle through with a man standing on the other side, a hammer clutched in his still raised hand, a few nails sticking out between plush lips, eyes wide with surprised shock.

Everything is still and quiet, the two of them locked in a disbelieving staring contest - seems Derek wasn’t the only one thinking that had been solid wall - and then, like the snap of fingers, the world starts moving once more, the man wobbling, leaning a little too far forward and realizing he’s falling Derek’s knees straighten and his feet take him across the room just in time to put his hands on the man to keep him from toppling over and fall through the hole and injure himself, not caring for the faint sound of shattering glass.

This close Derek can see the faintest hint of stubble, a smattering of moles on pale skin and lang, dark eyelashes framing a pair of amber brown eyes. Beneath the palms of his hands the man’s stomach muscles twitch with his movement as he steadies himself, Derek only reluctantly loosening his grip when he’s certain the danger has passed.

“This was not how I imagined meeting my new neighbour,” the man’s voice is warm and deep, laced with the grin clear on his face; for some reason he doesn’t seem the least bit worried he nearly fell to his death moments ago (Derek might be a bit dramatic, it probably wouldn’t have been more than a few bruises and maybe a bend rib, which - while painful and not something to joke about - not immediately life threatening).

Taking a step down from where he’d apparently been standing on a footstool, he reaches out his hand. “I’m Stiles, thank you for saving me from myself.”

“Anytime,” he says, distracted by the fact that despite being an inch or two shorter, Stiles’ hand is quite a bit larger than his own and there are a few moles on the back of it matching the ones Derek has already noticed on his face.

Stiles laughs, genuine and delighted. “I’m gonna hold you to that, dude. I might’ve grown into my limbs but I still trip over thin air from time to time.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek says, extracting his hand from Stiles’ because he realizes they’ve been shaking for at least thirty seconds more than is usual. He also immediately has to suppress the urge to face palm as he remembers never actually introducing himself.

“Derek. My name’s Derek.” He sweeps out his hand, encompassing the room, “and this is ‘Hale’s Sweets’, finest bakery in the street.”

Stiles leans closer and sticks his head through the hole in the wall, takes his time looking around the shop. “Pleasure to meet you, Derek.” He hesitates for a moment, looks down to take in the damage before him. “Maybe I could buy you a cup of coffee as a thank you for saving me, and figure out what to do with this?”

That’s how Erica finds them when she gets back a little before three to get ready for the afternoon reopening. Stiles is telling a story about the shenanigans he and his best friend, Scott, had gotten into in high school, whole body moving and arms flinging this way and that, Derek with his head thrown back in laughter; there are no decorations hanging from the ceiling or in the window, one tree is half way decorated while the other isn’t. She grins and backs up without making a sound, quickly scribbling a note and then sneaks out the back door. As soon as it closes behind her she shoots off a two word text; It worked

Laura had taken one look at the young man before handing him the contract for the other half of the building housing ‘Hale’s Sweets’. Letting him read through it she went and told her secretary to cancel the rest of her appointments before calling Erica, asking her to get there as fast as she could.

Getting back to her office the young man had looked up and asked for a few days to have someone look it over. Laura had happily agreed and waved him of in time for Erica to catch a glimpse of him.

It had taken them less than an hour to come up with a plan and only a little while longer to set it in motion. Erica being married to a bricklayer sped up that part of the plan involving renovating the space.

He’d been back two days later with a feisty red head who’d made demands Laura was willing to meet and soon the contract was signed, Stiles - as he’d told her to call him - leaving with a copy while Laura’s secretary had filed away the original and Laura had congratulated herself with her own brilliance.

Laura had known from the second she saw him, that Stiles would be perfect for her brother. Sure, she could’ve done what normal people do and introduced the two to each other, but seeing as she didn’t know Stiles and Derek didn’t like meeting new people that wasn’t really an option. And as she’d said to Eric, where was the fun in that, anyway? Besides, it wasn’t some nefarious plan to gain world domination, more a ploy to create the best circumstances for her brother to meet someone interesting that she thought he would hit it off with.

The renovations got done in record time. Luckily the door that had originally been between the two parts of the building was still there, had only been walled on either side; getting it free on Derek’s side had been a matter of waiting for her brother’s day off and then have the crew work as fast as possible. Luckily Derek wasn’t in the habit of staring at the walls which meant he probably wouldn’t notice anything amiss. They’d uncovered and cleared the door opening and then made it look like a solid concrete wall, figuring that at some point someone was going to hang something there.

The text from Erica confirmed that Laura made the best plans.

For some reason they never get around to fix the hole in the wall.

Derek watches the space take form, sees how differently Stiles shapes it compared to his own. Shelves filled with books hang among different movie posters and paintings by local artists - little, discreet plaques informing the viewer of their names and in some cases the price of the pieces - potted plants hang in the windows and are placed on a few tables at the armchairs.

When neither’s busy they often find themselves in deep conversation through the wall, Stiles talking with his whole body and Derek listening intently, often laughing at something the other say to Erica’s wordless amusement and wonder. She’s worked for him since he opened ‘Hale’s Sweets’ and has never heard him laugh neither as frequent nor as loud.

Months passes and Derek and Stiles’ friendship grows with each passing day. They graduate from only talking through the hole in the wall during the day to the exchange of numbers and subsequent texting to doing things together outside of business. The first time Derek meets Stiles’ friends is a Friday night at a nearby bar. When he arrives they’re all half way towards drunk but they’re nice and welcoming; not necessarily people Derek would’ve chosen for himself but being thrown in among them he finds that he likes them, think they could his friends, too.

It’s a while later Stiles finds out his landlady is actually Derek’s sister. He’d fallen asleep in his tiny office and wakes to raised voices from Derek’s side of the building. Blinking owlishly at his watch he groans when he manages to make sense of the blinking numbers and, hoping Derek has some coffee he might be willing to part with, he gets up and makes his way to the wall.

Despite the early hour he recognizes Laura Hale instantly where she’s jabbing a finger at Derek’s chest, the man grimaces and catches her hand on its next inward jab. Stiles clears his throat, catching their attention; seeing him she smiles brightly while Derek looks like he’d just bitten into the world’s sourest lemon. Still, he reaches for a steaming cup on the counter and a package of sugar with his other hand, expertly rips it open and dumps the contents into the cup, then he stirs while stepping closer to the hole in the wall, handing the cup to Stiles who eagerly grabs it and takes a careful sip.

”Stiles, my sister Laura. Laura please leave,” Derek says just as Laura happily exclaims; “Stiles!” and runs up to awkwardly hug him through the wall. Derek rolls his eyes and takes the cup from Stiles almost as if he’d expected this to happen.

”In a minute, brother dear,” Laura says, her attention focused solely on Stiles.

”Ms Hale,” Stiles starts only to be cut of by a “call me Laura. After all you’re my favorite tenant. Not to mention everything I’ve heard about you and your shop; quite impressive. But have you ever considered getting a partner? Expanding your product range?”

Stiles stares at her, then at Derek who looks like the proverbial deer caught in headlights; he can’t believe he didn’t think of that. How many times has he watched potential customers walk in from Derek’s shop with a freshly baked bun or a slice of pie and a cup of coffee only to sit down at the tables in Stiles’ shop to eat and drink before browsing his wares. Not to mention every time someone comments of the heavenly scents drifting through the wall, and when leaving his shop turn left towards ‘Hale’s Sweets’ (Stiles having a ‘duh’ moment when he realizes he should’ve known Laura Hale and Derek were related long before today) to sate their sweet tooth.

”That’s,” he hesitantly begins, catching Derek’s eyes and whatever the man sees in his gaze has him relaxing, giving Stiles the confidence to finish his sentence, “actually a great idea. Derek?” The man nods in response, Laura beaming at the two of them.

”Now that’s cause for celebration. Stiles, are you busy tonight?” he shakes his head and Laura continues, “awesome. Then maybe you and that red headed friend of yours would like to come to dinner tonight. We could talk business and get to know each other.” Behind her Derek was shaking his head but Stiles grinned and said he’d call Lydia right away, see if she was free.

Enough days had passed for the last Tuesday of November to roll around once more. Cora had delivered two new pines the day before - last year’s back outside where they belonged - and Derek had gotten the decorations out of storage. The morning rush was over, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and both Erica and Isaac had the rest of the day off. Music was playing quietly over the speakers, the smell of freshly baked goods hanging heavy in the air.

Stepping from the kitchen into the shop itself Derek couldn’t help ponder the difference from last year. He and Stiles had decided to merge their shops and the easiest way to do so was getting rid of the common wall (after making sure it wasn’t load bearing); they’d then had the workmen make another wall at waist height with a wide opening to keep the spaces apart while still a unit. The café style tables and potted plants spilled into Derek’s space, the coffee brewing migrated to Stiles’ and books were everywhere and at some point all of it became their space.

Now, with no customers in sight, Stiles was dancing to and singing along with the music. Derek sat the chest on the counter smiling at the sight; Stiles had no rhythm whatsoever and his singing wasn’t ever going to win him any awards, but he was enjoying himself, his joy infectious and Derek took a step closer, then one more and when Stiles turned in his direction put his arms around him, slowly swaying them around the room. Stiles trips and steps on his foot, Derek bumps into a chair knocking it over and still they keep moving, smiling at each other as one song ends and the next begins.

It’s dark outside when they open the box, on top of all the decorations two small, black boxes containing the jeweled promise of forever.

End

#hotaruyuki #stereksanta15 #*fics19 #*gifts19

[justjessame]

A Little Ass and a Lotta Sass Chapter 21:  A Job...A Purpose...And a Dress

Negan found a ‘job’ for me. It came sooner than I expected, but Laura had found three other guards that I didn’t hate on sight quickly too, so the world was full of surprises.

I’d been at the Sanctuary nearly a month when he told me over dinner. My days had begun to have a sense of routine and normalcy. I’d wake up, wrapped up in Negan, he’d use all the persuasion he possessed to convince me mornings weren’t his father’s least useful gift, and we’d have breakfast. Our chats kept going, even traipsing into less than safe territories, and while I wasn’t able to make him budge on the Kingdom or Hilltop, we learned more and more about one another. Then a shared shower, dressing for the day, and he’d go off to show the community what a badass, yet fair leader he was, and I’d get started on my own day.

I had felt that Laura needed to be clued in on my ‘condition’. She needed to know that Negan wasn’t simply insanely protective of me for my own irresistible self, but that I was growing a tiny little terror inside of me that he’d no doubt burn the world down to protect. With that in mind, she didn’t blink at my daily walks through the Sanctuary and outside in the fresh air and sunshine. She became adept at knowing which way the wind was blowing, literally, because the scent of walker security was a surefire way to make me lose my breakfast.

We’d go through the marketplace, and I’d managed during one such trip, to find a book on pregnancy. I’d been a good student, but science hadn’t been my strong suit, so biology wasn’t high on my list of things to memorize. It’s how I learned that our little demon seed was practically microscopic, and I started preparing for what was coming.

And with this book in hand, my chats with Negan started to include what we were going to be experiencing. “Wait,” he said, holding up a huge hand during dinner the night he would tell me he’d decided on my role inside the Sanctuary. “How fucking big is their head gonna be again?” Yes, I’d been regaling him with the joys of childbirth, during dinner. And we’d decided to call the bean “they” since we didn’t actually know the sex. Shut up, we’re progressive.

I checked the book, and grimaced. “Around thirteen inches in circumference is the low end of the scale.” Ugh, gross. “I was a premie, so if our bean takes after me, they could be tinier.”

“You came early?” He asked, still eating somehow. “Don’t remember you telling the good doc that during your checkup.” I rolled my eyes. “Thirteen inches,” he whistled and I shot him a glare. “That’s-” he held up his hands and gave an example. “Fuck, baby girl, that’s gonna hurt.”

Asshole. I was glaring at the book, and trying not to squirm at the thought of something that size passing through me. “Yeah, but I’ll be holding your fucking hand the entire time, so better start exercising those fingers, I’d hate to fucking crush them.”

Negan laughed, and I took a drink when I looked up at his flashing eyes. “I have good news for you, sweetheart.” I put the book aside, thankful for a break from the terrifying future. “Tomorrow you go to work.”

I raised an eyebrow. Really? “Picked a job that you’re ‘willing’ to let me do, have you?” I knew I sounded cranky, but seeing as I just realized how fucking huge babies really were and the fact that he’d been so adamant that I only work at what he felt I should, well I was fucking cranky.

He leaned back in his chair and grinned. Unfazed by my irritation, which pissed me off a little more. “Yes, I have.” Those damn dimples mocked me. “I have the leaders of my outposts coming tomorrow for a meeting. They think they’re just being introduced to you, my new-” he stopped, we still hadn’t fucking given what we were a label, and EVERY time he made the ‘wife’ suggestion I gagged, at him, mind you. “They think it’s just an introduction.” He moved on, past the confusion of what the fuck we were. “You, my lovely Callie, are gonna use that wonderful talent of yours to let me know just how trustworthy my people are.”

I grinned at him. Clever, that’s Negan. My Negan, I thought, wanting nothing more than to prove myself and also, to show the fucking entire community that I wasn’t just his willing concubine. “Of course,” I answered, pushing my plate away. “What time should I be ready?”

 The next morning, after performing his duty of convincing me that sunlight was not the enemy in the most mind blowing way he could, he smacked me on my bare ass, and ordered me out of bed for breakfast. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, Negan had begun beating the delivery people to the punch. I swear to fucking hell, he was waking me up earlier and earlier, and I would one day smother myself with a fucking pillow to stop it, but he took great pleasure of waiting with our living area door open so they couldn’t interrupt or fucking knock.

Fucker, I thought, as I tugged on my morning outfit of whatever shirt he’d tossed off the night before, grabbing a pair of panties that I’d ONLY don during breakfast, and meeting him in the living room. I have to say, watching him wait for breakfast with the same glee I probably waited for presents on Christmas morning, was hilarious. I swear, once he’d decided to take away the unknown power that our food delivery person had over us, he became a fucking child. One day, soon probably, he was going to hide behind the open fucking door and shout “BOO” when he jumped out just to get a new fucking thrill.

I was shaking my head, and getting the dirty dishes from dinner gathered, when I felt him creep up behind me. His arms wrapped around me and he propped his head on top of mine. “Have I ever told you how fucking hot you look wearing my shirts?” His hands were smoothing down my still pretty damn flat stomach, teasing the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “When you come out here every fucking morning in one, it’s all I can do to fight the fucking urge to lay you down on this fucking table and have YOU for breakfast.”

I could hear the rawness in his voice and my stomach clenched with the picture he was painting. Me, laid out, much like our first flirtation on the dinner table in Alexandria, only naked this time and being savored. Jesus, I swallowed at the fucking burn growing across my skin.

He was dipping his head to nibble along my neck when we heard a throat clear. I nearly laughed, nearly because I fully remembered Rule Number 1, and also because for ONCE this wasn’t my fault. Ha. I felt his groan against my skin, and then he pulled away and stalked to our open door. Letting go of a silent giggle, I took the empty dishes to the door to hand them to the poor guy standing there being glared at by Negan.

He took them from me, and I offered what I hoped was a sympathetic smile. Then closing the door, I rejoined the father of my child at the table. Negan was setting the table, something I’d reluctantly become used to, and he held out my chair for me as always. We sat and discussed what I could expect from the meeting he’d planned for the morning.

“Any preferences for what I should wear?” I asked, eating my food without argument. Another concession I’d made during the past month. Why fight the serving sizes? Especially since, and I’d never admit it to Negan, but I was growing more and more hungry by the day.

He considered my question, knowing it didn’t come from a place of vanity. I wanted to be seen as formidable, but also as Negan’s whatever the hell I was to Negan. “One of the dresses?” It came out as a question, mostly because I hadn’t chosen to wear one of them yet. I could tell he wasn’t certain I liked dresses. “They’re all pretty functional, pockets, good length should shit go wrong.” He was building a case for why he’d given them to me, I could see, and I smiled to show him I got it.

I nodded, wanting to sigh because today panties would be a requirement. Fuck, I thought, I hate underwear. We ate, talked about the day, and then he reminded me of another appointment we had today. “Dr. Carson says you’re due for another checkup.” I gave another nod. Yeah, it had been about a month, another checkup would be routine at this point. “I’m thinking after the meeting, we’ll have lunch and head to the infirmary.”

“Sounds fun.” My tone showed exactly how not fun I found the idea.

A shower, brief this morning, since we had so much to do. Then we were back in our bedroom, Negan having a simple task of tossing on his usual outfit. Me, well, I was opening the section of the closet that I’d ignored until now. Dresses. I didn’t hate wearing them, but a part of me wondered how wife-like I’d be looking in one. As I’m flicking through the offerings, I pull out one that makes me question just what kind of fantasies my personal sex machine may harbor for me.

“Negan, baby?” I ask, glancing at him and holding up the very plaid dress I’m holding up. “Is there something you want to share with the class about this?”

His eyes are twinkling as his grin grows. “I thought you’d look hot in it, princess.” Uh huh, in a tartan plaid dress that hints at a schoolgirl fantasy if I’ve ever seen one.

 “Gotta say, Coach, I fucking hated gym, but I’m pretty fucking certain this wasn’t the uniform.” I started to put it away, cute as it was I was pretty sure that wasn’t the image I was going for today. His arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled his face in the curve of my shoulder. “Really?” I whispered, wanting more information, just so I understood. “Is it because of my size, or-”

His laughter against my skin forced a new rush of need to roll through me. “I’m not a fucking pedo, Callie.” He kissed my neck and I could feel his smile against my skin. “You’re so fucking tiny, and I saw it, and fuck if it didn’t give me an idea or two.”

Ah, I bit my lip, running my own scenario through my mind. “I think we’re going to explore those ideas, Negan,” my voice a breath, “soon.”

Another laugh, and another swat on my panty covered ass. “Get dressed, woman.”

I mumbled about the fucking need for panties, the need for a dress, the fucking irritation of having to be awake and dealing with this shit. My hands landed on a wine colored sleeveless wrap dress. Mesh covered the shell which was made of stretchy fabric, and it did have pockets. I wrapped it around me, happy that I didn’t have to change the bra and panty set I’d chosen and smoothed it down so it settled just above my knees. If it was ever necessary, I actually could fight in it. Impressed at Negan’s care in choosing my wardrobe, once again, I pulled out a pair of ballet flats and a pair of canvas sneakers. As I was deciding, Negan offered his choice.

“Sneakers, babe.” He was pulling on his leather jacket, and watching me intently. I raised an eyebrow wondering at his choice, but didn’t argue. They were cute, and they worked, so I tied them on.

He came over to fix my necklace, as I brushed and braided my hair. Dropping a kiss on the bare skin of the back of my neck, he smiled at me in the mirror’s reflection. “You look good enough to fucking eat, darlin’.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” I answered with a smile. “Should we head out?”

I was nervous. I’d met the people around us, fighting to keep hold of their names. And while Laura and Arat were becoming more familiar to me daily, the rest were kept at a distance. And here I was heading to meet the men and women Negan trusted to act in his stead at the outposts. Places that my family had attacked and killed at. As butterflies fought in my stomach, Negan’s hand took mine, and together with Lucille we made our way to meet these leaders, meet them and have me pass judgement, I corrected myself.

Hopefully, I’d find nothing and no one amiss, but I didn’t count that as likely. Negan surrounded himself with people who were fighters and survivors, and I knew, better than most what it took to become either.

#negan x ofc #The Walking Dead #Smut

[catflowerqueen]

Deja vu (Oh, the Irony)

So guess what I did today instead of homework....

Chapter 3: Calm Before the Storm

Laura had, at first, been highly interested in the adults’ conversation. First of all, they were very cool to look at—so many wild and crazy colors! Some of them were furry, some were hairless, one had feathers, and one of them looked like she was part plant! She knew that they probably weren’t the most interesting or “weird” beings out there, considering some of the stories Mommy told her about her work… but since she and Mason thought Laura was still too little to actually go out and help Mommy herself, she’d mostly only seen humans so far. She didn’t really get why—the non-humans she’d seen so far hadn’t been scary, and neither were these creatures; they actually looked like something that she might have made up herself while doing paintings of fantasy creatures as she tried to speculate on some of the crazier things that her family or the servants might have seen when they weren’t at home.

         The second thing that interested her about the adults was their reaction to her and Paula. They all seemed wary around the two of them—which wasn’t anything new, since adults were always like that around her—but at the same time… she could tell that the wariness wasn’t of them, but for them. For both of them. They were genuinely worried about the two of them, and when Mr. Drowzee was trying to comfort Paula earlier, she could tell that it was, for the most part, because he didn’t like that she was sad… no strings attached, no fear at her crying: he just genuinely wanted her to smile again. It was a very refreshing experience, even as the tension still present in the room nagged at her.

         But as the conversation went on and the tension started to lessen… she found herself quickly becoming bored. She didn’t know what Mr. Drowzee was talking about. He was throwing her and Paula’s names around, but the stuff he was saying didn’t make any sense. She’d never even met Paula before today, so how could they be part of a “team” together? And that bag that Mr. Drowzee had that he claimed belonged to the two of them looked way too heavy for her—and like it was supposed to go over the shoulder, rather than hanging sensibly around a waist like her pocket did. It was confusing, and boring, and it didn’t seem like it was going to stop being that way any time soon.

         With that in mind, Laura sat back up—slightly startling Paula as she did so, as she had forgotten the small Pokémon (who was maybe called a pichu, or something?) was using her as a pillow. Thankfully, this didn’t make the yellow creature cry… although her eyes did begin looking suspiciously shiny… so Laura had her full, uninterrupted attention when she quietly said, “C’mon, let’s go explore.”

         Paula’s ears perked up at the word and she gave an excited smile before her expression drooped again as she glanced at the adults. “But… would that be okay?” she wondered. “I don’ wanna get in trouble…”

         Laura cocked her head in confusion. Why would they get in trouble for exploring? But… if it would stop Paula from feeling so worried… “We won’t go far; we won’t even go back outside,” she assured. She pointed at the hallway behind them. “We’ll just go down there a little.”

         Paula glanced between the destination and the chattering adults, squinting her eyes in concentration as she debated on what to do. On the one paw, the possibility of making these strange adults mad. On the other paw, the chance to get a taste of the life Ricky wrote about in his letters. On the one paw, continued boredom. On the other… nah, who was she kidding—anything that prevented boredom automatically won out.

         “Okay, let’s go!” she jumped up in excitement, turning on her heel and rushing toward the hallway her new friend pointed out. “Race you!”

         Laura started in surprise before a huge grin bloomed on her face and she giggled as she hurried after her fellow child.

------ 

Paula sighed and flopped backwards onto one of the beds they’d found, pouting in disappointment. So far, this whole “exploration” had been really boring. She’d lost the race despite her head start because her legs were so tiny compared to the… she thought the others called her a human?... child, so that meant she had to let her pick which room they would look at first after she’d skidded to a stop in the middle of the hallway upon seeing two doors right across from each other. The fact that she’d picked the room Paula would have wanted to pick first anyways—the one on the right—didn’t make her feel any better, because a loss was still a loss. And the room turned out to be really boring. All it had in it were some straw beds, a water basin, and a boring book. It didn’t even have any pictures in it or anything—which had instantly made her new friend lose interest in it—and it wasn’t even written in any cool languages, like those footprint runes that Ricky had accidentally sent in last week’s letter home. The handwriting was kind of terrible, too, so even though her parents and everyone always said how “advanced she was for her age” when it came to reading—she could read the entirety of her favorite “The Adventures of Mighty Magikarp” book, all ten pages, all on her own, after all!—she couldn’t actually make out any words beyond “Bidoof’s” and “Diary.” Which meant that it probably belonged to the bidoof who was still talking with the adults in the other room, which made it instantly uninteresting because she was still mad at all of them since they were strangers.

The next room, containing the bed she was currently flopped down on, wasn’t any more exciting. The only thing different about it was that it had fewer beds and a table instead of a water basin. It even had another boring book in it! And this one was even more impossible to read than the last one, since even though the handwriting was a lot better, it was in that loopy-script that only mommies and grandmas used. Which made it doubly boring, and doubly impossible to read, even though she could admit it was also doubly prettier to look at.

…There was also a window in the room, which she guessed was kind of cool except for the fact that it was nighttime now and she couldn’t actually see anything when she looked out of it.

She heard a soft “thump!” from the bed beside hers and looked over to see the human sitting next to her, playing in the straw a little bit and tying some pieces into knots.

“Hey, is your name actually Laura?” she asked, suddenly realizing that she’d never actually gotten confirmation of that fact.

The human dropped her straw in surprise. “Yeah?” she said, sounding confused. “Didn’t you already know that?”

Paula puffed up her cheeks in annoyance, accidentally setting some sparks off from her electrical pouches. “Well Mr. Drowzee said that, yeah, but he’s a stranger. Stranger aren’t s’pposed to use your name until you or your mommy or daddy or brother or aunties or uncles or cousin Felix or his brothers an’ sisters or cousin Bradley or his brothers an’ sisters tell them first,” she huffed.

“Even if everyone already knows it?” the human asked, sounding awed by this new information.

“Especially then!” Paula nodded decisively. “Otherwise they’re being really rude!” But then she frowned, thinking about something, and amended, “Unless they’re a teacher or Saint Christopher, Lord of the Delibirds—they know your name because they use magic lists, so that’s okay.”

“Wow…” the human breathed out in amazement, her eyes wide with wonder. But then she shook her head, coming back to herself. “Well… um… hi, I’m Laura!” she introduced herself, sticking out a hand for Paula to shake.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Paula said solemnly, carefully sounding out the words as she grasped Laura’s hand in her paw and gave it a single shake. Then the two immediately dissolved into another giggling fit before racing out of the room and down the hall to the final, unexplored room at the end.

Honestly, neither of them had high hopes for its contents and were mostly continuing their “exploration” for completion’s sake… and to continue avoiding the boring adults hanging out in the other room. This is why they were completely surprised when, upon entering, they found that the room was already occupied.

Paula immediately ducked behind Laura—who had stopped stock-still upon entering the room—and grasped some of the fabric covering the girl’s legs as she peeked around them to get a safer look at the stranger occupying one of the room’s two beds.

She lowered her voice close to a whisper as she asked her friend, “Who do you think they are?”

Laura, who seemed apprehensive, for some reason, and had brought her arms up to hug herself as she warily looked around the room, startled and looked down at Paula before giving the room a more thorough look and finally spotting what caught the pichu’s attention.

“Oh…” she breathed out, seeming puzzled—but less wary. She tilted her head, thinking it over, and then dropped her arms and shrugged. “I dunno.”

The two pondered the sight before them a moment more before they heard something that made them break into giggles again.

“They’re snoring!” Laura exclaimed in glee, listening to the soft rumbling noise interspersed with gargling sounds and lip smacks from all the drooling this new stranger was doing.

“They’re even noisier than Daddy is when he’s nappin’!” Paula added, the sights and sounds quickly dispensing her previous wariness about the stranger and causing her to step out from behind Laura. She crept closer to the strange pokémon, careful to be quiet so that she wouldn’t wake him even as she was feeling braver and intent on getting a closer look. Laura quickly followed suit, dropping to all fours in a crawl so that she could be at a better eye level.

“They’re the bestet colors ever,” Laura mused as she finally reached the pokémon in question and leaned in closer. “White, an’ gold, an’ bluey green…”

“Those are boring—orange is way better!” Paula interjected, shaking her head in a pitying manner.

Laura just gave a huff at Paula’s naivety and rolled her eyes before returning her attention to the snoring creature before her. They shifted a little in their sleep, causing the tag-like features hanging off of the points on their golden head to come into easier reach of tiny, human fingers. “I wonder if its as silky as Mommy’s dresses…” Laura wondered aloud as she reached out and made contact with it. But she was only able to give it a tiny poke—not nearly enough to give her any concrete data—before the creature’s eyes squinted shut in minor annoyance and they shifted again, rendering the tags unreachable from her current vantage point. She pouted briefly at the lack of an answer, but then, strangely, her eyes widened in fear and she flung herself as far away from the sleeping pokémon as possible.

“L-Laura…?” Paula asked, startled by the sudden movements and becoming afraid herself. “What… what’s wrong?”

“N-no…” the human groaned, clutching her head. “No!”

“Laura?!” Paula tried again, resorting to ineffectually shaking the girl’s leg in an attempt to snap her out of whatever this was when the human became silent and unresponsive for a few moments. But then Paula fell back with a squawk of surprise when the girl’s head suddenly shot back up and she looked frantically around the room, seeming a little dazed and pausing briefly in confusion on Paula before her gaze cleared again and settled on the sleeping stranger. Her features sharpened into an angry glare—one that was admittedly quite frightening for a toddler—and she opened her mouth, as if to give an angry shout. But before she could…

“Oh, thank Arceus! There you are!”

------

A few moments earlier…

Chatot had been just as panicky as the others when they realized that the kids were missing, but he knew that panicking would get them nowhere. So, just as always, he strove to be the voice of reason and authority needed to get everyone back on track.

“EVERYONE QUIET DOWN!” he ordered, his wings ruffling in agitation until everyone complied. “Panicking won’t help us find them any faster! We need to think rationally about this.”

He glanced around the room, taking note of any exits or hiding spaces and thinking back on what he’d seen of the children’s demeanors and abilities thus far.

“…All right,” he began, addressing the assembled once more. “It is unlikely that they went far. Even if they did, somehow, make it all the way back to the entrance, from what Drowzee said, Paula would be unlikely to cross over the grate on her own. Laura would have to carry her—but Laura already said that she was tired from doing so earlier, and it is unlikely that she would be recovered enough to do so again, especially as she would have had to contend with climbing the ladders first. Therefore, only one person needs to check the upper levels; everyone else should split into smaller teams and make a sweep of this level. Laura is still big enough that she should be easy enough to find, but with Paula’s smaller size it is entirely possible that she is hiding somewhere—”

But he was cut off when a faint “No!” sounded from the hallway to the crew rooms.

“…Or they could have gone off to explore the living areas,” Chatot muttered, immediately dashing off towards the sound, the others following quickly behind.

As he’d hoped, the sight that met them when they reached Team Rainbow’s old room was that of two children—along with their legendary guest, who was still in roughly the same position he’d been in when Chatot had seen him earlier.

“Oh, thank Arceus!” he breathed out, letting his barely contained panic melt away to relief. “There you are!”

At the sound of his voice the two children immediately stopped what they were doing and looked over at him. Laura’s expression went from angry to surprised, and Paula’s went from nervous to… well, actually, her expression didn’t really change all that much; it simply switched focus from her friend to him as she grabbed onto Laura’s leggings once more and tried to hide behind the curve of the human’s knees in order to get out of the sights of the multitude of strange adults in the hallway.

“You two can’t just wander away like that,” Chatot scolded, the relief at having found the two of them giving way to panic once more as his mind was assaulted with visions of what might have befallen the two, tiny explorers if they actually had managed to make it outside the guild. “You need to ask permission, or to at least tell someone where you’re going first!”

Paula looked like she was about to start crying again from the scolding, but Laura just cocked her head in honest confusion. “But how do I do that if I don’ know where I’m goin’?”

Chatot opened his mouth to respond, but then paused as he thought over her answer. He then dropped his head into his wings and gave a resigned sigh at the child’s logic. “Just… please don’t wander off again without telling someone first, all right, Laura?”

Laura gave a very put-upon sigh before reluctantly agreeing. “Okay,” she said, before suddenly remembering something and exclaiming “Oh! Oh, wait, no! You’re not s’pposed to say that!”

Everyone just looked at her in utter confusion, so she huffed. “I didn’t introduce myself yet, and neither did Mommy or… or any of those other people on Paula’s list that I don’t actually know, so you’re not s’pposed to use my name!”

“Y-Yeah!” Paula said, suddenly perking up and gaining a bit of bravery at the fact that she was being better behaved than the actual adults were. “You’re being rude right now! An’ that’s bad!”

Neither of the girls noticed how hard the adults they faced were trying not to smile at how adorable the two of them were being—or at the subtle confirmation that, as weirdly coincidental as it was, Laura’s name was apparently still “Laura” during her first incarnation. Luckily, they didn’t have to struggle for long as Wigglytuff, with his seemingly oblivious demeanor, immediately stepped up. With all seriousness and grace, he told the girls, “You’re absolutely right! That was very rude of us. Can you forgive us, friendly-friends?”

Laura scrutinized him for a moment before sharing a glance with Paula and nodding, if a bit reluctantly. “I guess so,” she said. “But only if you tell me who all of you are first.”

“Oh, of course!” Wigglytuff assured enthusiastically before he began doing so, starting off with Drowzee, “This is Drowzee, a new explorer who is visiting my guild for a while…” and, after going through introductions for his apprentices and head of intelligence, finishing off with “…and I’m Guildmaster Wigglytuff!”

Paula gasped, her eyes sparkling with glee at the information as she finally realized something. “You’re the Wigglytuff?! An’ this the Wigglytuff Guild?!” she demanded. At Wigglytuff’s proud nod, she gasped again. “That’s so… so cool! Way cooler than the dumb Torterra Guild that Ricky goes to…”

“Oh my gosh, I’ve heard of that place!” Sunflora suddenly exclaimed, startling everyone present. “It’s about as famous as the Wigglytuff Guild, but no outsiders really know how it runs. It makes total sense that the leader of Team Spark-Seed would have graduated from such a place!”

Paula rolled her eyes. “It’s not that ‘mysterious.’ It’s mostly just really boring,” she stated bluntly. “They don’ ever even get visitors like you do, who’re just allowed to sleep whenever they want, even all the way through important grown-up meetings,” she explained, pointing at the sleeping legendary.

The others followed her paw—except for Laura, who deliberately looked anywhere except that direction—and winced at the reminder of how serious this situation was, and how they still hadn’t decided how much to explain to the kids about what was going on.

“Ah… Yes, well, that’s a bit of a special case,” Chatot finally said, taking one for the team. “This pokémon is known as Jirachi… have you ever heard of him?” The kids shook their heads, and he winced; unfortunate, but not unexpected. “Well, Jirachi is known as the ‘Wish Pokémon.’ As the name implies, he sometimes grants wishes for others. But this ability takes a lot of energy, and so after he grants a wish he has to sleep for…” Chatot paused in his explanation, wincing again as he realized that he didn’t know the exact mechanics of how Jirachi’s powers worked, or how long he typically had to sleep in order to recharge. “Well… after he grants a wish, he has to sleep for… some period of time,” he finally compromised.

“So… that means he just granted someone’s wish?” Paula asked, while Laura pretended not to be interested in the conversation even though she actually was.

“Precisely,” Chatot said, pleased at how clever Paula was for her age. “And the wish in this instance actually had to do with you two, Paula and L—” Chatot’s eyes widened and he cut himself off so abruptly that he actually started coughing as he recalled that Laura hadn’t actually introduced herself yet. “And the, er… the young lady beside you,” he recovered, rather lamely.

Laura, having caught the hasty correction, easily put two and two together, blushed, and mumbled out, “…My name’s Laura.”

Chatot gave a genuine smile at this, saying warmly, “It is very nice to meet you, Laura.”

Laura gave a small smile back before giving a reluctant look in Jirachi’s direction, sighing, and resignedly re-entering the conversation. “So… was the wish to bring us here or somethin’?” she asked, “’Cuz this place doesn’t look anywhere like where I was before…”

Chatot winced again—even as half of him wanted to smile at how clever Laura was, as well, to have pieced that together the way she did. “Well… yes, in a manner of speaking,” he said.

“Oh, okay,” Laura said, apparently unconcerned by the fact that she had abruptly been yanked away from her home and brought to this strange place filled with strange creatures now that she had a little bit of an explanation for what caused the change in scenery and company.

Paula, however, did not take it nearly as well. “But… b-but,” her eyes, predictably, filled with tears, “but if he’s sleeping now… then does that mean we can’t go home?!”

Chatot’s feathers ruffled in agitation as he frantically looked around, practically begging for someone to step in and help him explain. But, really, how could anyone explain the complexities of the situation? About the fact that it wasn’t so much that the girls were simply in a different place than they were used to, but a completely different time as well? Should they even explain something like that? How much could toddlers really understand about such things?

“Well… er… not right now, no,” Chatot finally had to say. Then, before Paula had the chance to really react, he hurriedly added, “B-but as soon as he wakes up, you’ll be able to!”

That sentiment did nothing to assuage Paula’s feelings, as she immediately started crying again, causing fat tears to roll slowly down her cheeks.

“A-and in the meantime, we’ll take good care of you here, in the famous Wigglytuff Guild! D-Doesn’t that sound nice?!” he desperately continued, his voice growing louder to be heard over the pitch of Paula’s wails… which only grew louder the more he continued talking.

Bidoof, who had slowly tried to move towards the back of the group in shame over the fact that he’d inadvertently caused his friend all this distress in the first place, couldn’t help but look over at Jirachi in amazement. “Golly, I’m surprised that he can sleep through all this…” he muttered, not actually expecting anyone to hear him because of how loud the pichu was being.

Unfortunately for him, he happened to say that at the exact moment Paula paused to take a breath. This meant that she heard exactly what he said, and it made the gears in her mind start turning…

“S-so… so do you think if I was even louder, he might wake up faster…?” she mused, her voice watery, as she turned a contemplative look towards the sleeping legendary. It was a look that filled the assembled with dread, especially when she opened her mouth, as if to take a deep breath in preparation for a scream the likes of which none had heard before—despite living in close quarters with Loudred.

But, luckily for them, their hearing was saved when, before Paula could actually make use of her breath aside from making herself well-oxygenated, Laura piped up with, “No, it’s not the right time for him to wake up, yet.”

“H-hey hey? And, how do you figure that, Laura?” Corphish quickly asked, attempting to prolong the conversation which had, at least momentarily, distracted Paula from her—admittedly reasonable—tantrum.

But Laura just huffed, puffing up her cheeks in annoyance and crossing her arms, refusing to elaborate.

“B-but… he will wake up?” Paula demanded to know, her voice still wavering with unshed tears.

“Of course he will!” Chimecho jumped in, quick to assure her. “But in the meantime… why don’t the two of you have something to eat?”

“H-huh? Eat?” the child duo turned to her in surprise.

“Yes! Are you hungry? I know it’s a little late right now… but a small snack should be okay, right?” she asked the two of them, giving an exaggerated, conspiratorial wink.

Paula sniffled a little, wiping her eyes as she considered the offer. “…C-can the snack be Yellow Gummis…?” she wondered.

“Absolutely!” She nodded, before turning to Laura and guessing, “Though, I suppose you’d prefer Plain Seeds for your snack, right?”

Laura tilted her head. “What are Plain Seeds?”

Chimecho—along with everyone else, really—was so shocked at the girl’s reaction that she nearly fell out of the air. It had never occurred to her that any iteration of Laura could possibly be ignorant of what Plain Seeds were. But upon further thought… she guessed it wasn’t actually all that strange. After all, this version of Laura was from her very first life. She hadn’t even known what pokémon were, so how would she have known about this world’s native plants?

But she quickly pulled herself together enough to say, “Well… it’s a type of food that I think you’ll like. And if it turns out you don’t, then I can get you something else, okay?” she added, despite being ninety percent certain that, lack of prior knowledge or not, there was no way an iteration of Laura would ever dislike the foodstuff even though literally everyone else found it disgusting. So much so, in fact, that a glance at Paula revealed the tiny electric-type making a disgusted expression, but otherwise making no comment or giving her friend any warnings in fear that if the human refused to at least try them, then maybe Chimecho would make her eat them instead.

Laura seemed a little on the fence about it. “Is it really okay for me to eat something?” she asked. “I already had my meal today… won’t that mess up your, um… that thing… when you write it down on your papers, and then Mommy comes an’… um…”

“No, no, don’t worry—it’ll be our little secret,” Chimecho assured the human, winking again. Laura hesitantly nodded in assent.

Chatot sighed, glad that the drama seemed to be over for the evening, and that things could start winding down soon. “Yes, and while you two are eating, we’ll work on setting up some more beds in here so that you and Drowzee will be able to go to sleep afterwards and—”

But as anyone who has ever interacted with small children could tell you, mentioning sleep was exactly the wrong thing to say, as it set off another tantrum—for both girls this time.

“No!” Paula screamed, dropping to her stomach and banging her little fists on the ground. “I don’ wanna go to bed! No! No! Nooo!”

Laura went in the opposite direction, springing up and stamping her feet as she shouted, “I don’ wanna stay in this room! No! No! Nooo!”

Nothing anyone could do, no promises of any snacks or assurances that the beds were really, really comfortable and that they could get them tons of blankets and pillows to use calmed the girls down until Drowzee finally, desperately, offered, “H-how about after you finish your snack, I tell you a bedtime story?”

Paula’s tantrum paused, and the sudden lack of noise make Laura’s abruptly stop as well. Paula lifted her head a little, bringing one of her wide, wet eyes into view. “…Can I pick the story?” she asked.

“Yes, of course, any story you want,” Drowzee sighed in relief.

Paula sat up fully, her tantrum completely forgotten. “I wan’ my second favorite one! The one about the dis… uh…” she paused, screwing up her face in concentration as she carefully sounded out “the dis-em-bodied krabby claw that grabs you and squeezes until you die!” she demanded, sounding extremely proud of herself for getting the pronunciation correct.

Drowzee’s face fell. “O-oh… That’s… that’s not really… that’s supposed to be a horror story, so maybe that isn’t the best…” he trailed off, feeling mounting horror as he saw Paula’s face screwing up in displeasure once more and the tears starting to fall from her eyes again. “I-I mean of course I’ll tell you that story!” he said, backtracking immediately. “It… it really is a good one! …Even if no one actually finds it scary,” he finished in a mumble too small for Paula to hear over her sudden exclamations of joy and demands that Laura go get a snack with her so that they could finish quickly and get to the storytelling.

The rest of the night passed without much incident. Snacks were had by all, and, to no one’s surprise, the first incarnation of Laura adored Plain Seeds just as much as the incarnation they were more used to—if not more, since they actually had to caution the child more than once to slow down her rate of consumption before she started choking. Guest beds were quickly made and lined with a multitude of pillows and blankets, and the girls got into them more or less willingly—even if Laura did pause first to stare mulishly at Jirachi for a moment before pointedly turning her back on him once she was actually in bed. A not-actually-all-that-scary scary story was told, and the only screams heard were those of laughter at just how bad the story was at being a member of its particular genre.

When the girls fell asleep shortly after the tale’s conclusion, everyone figured that, just maybe, taking care of these child-versions of their friends wouldn’t be as hard as they’d feared.

Unfortunately for them, it turned out that the relative ease of this night was just the calm before the storm.

#pokemon mystery dungeon #explorers of sky #what if...? #deja vu (oh the irony) #writing #fanfiction #procrastination at its finest

[crowkingwrites]

The Godchild (Ch.12)

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Summary:  You are excited when your best friend, Laura Barton, names you as little Natasha’s godmother. You are more than ready to take care of her. Little do you know, Clint has also picked out a godfather for his new daughter…Loki. A series inspired by my previous work “The Polar Express” where Loki and you meet and take on your roles as godparents to Natasha Barton during a time where the Barton family and other members of SHIELD are threatened. How far would you go to protect your goddaughter? How far would Loki go?

Words: 1819 (Ao3 Link) MCU Masterlist

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four , Chapter Five, Chapter Six , Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven

You watched Natasha play in her room for a while. She was speaking with people around her as if she were a queen. She wore a lovely plastic crown and had her blanket wrapped around her shoulders. When she turned your way, you saw her eyes. Natasha’s brown eyes were gone. A milky white fog had taken over them.

Before you could step towards her, Loki held you back.

“An illusion, that’s all,” Loki assured you. His hand rubbed your shoulder.

“You let her play inside her mind like that?” you questioned him.

“Of course,” Loki narrowed his eyes. “The Bartons have allowed it. She’s an imaginative child.”

“She’ll learn more of the pretend world in her head instead of the real one.”

“She’s five,” Loki said. His brow furrowed. “Let her be a child. Her parents were missing, possibly not even alive. She’s away from her siblings. This is a whole new world for her.”

“So, you let her cope by having her live inside her pretend world?”

“Where she’s happy. Last night when I tucked her in, she asked where her parents are.”

“What did you say?”

“I lied. I told her they’re on a very important adult vacation. And that they’ll be back soon. Are you going to disagree with how I handled that too?”

“No,” you backed down. “I don’t want her to grow up between two worlds. Sometimes, I still can’t tell what’s real and what’s been in my head.”

“Don’t worry. This isn’t a normal thing. Have you had any visions since we got here?”

“No. My powers have been radio silent. Well, at least the ones I can’t control.”

Loki had you step away from little Natasha’s door and into his bedroom. He had one of the smaller bedrooms, and let you have the master. Still, he utilized his space well. His bed was neatly made, something you both had in common. Loki had bookshelves lining one wall with his books in stacks. His shelves looked more like a museum of his mind than something displaying books. There were trinkets, Asgardian technology, and two jars filled with bottlecaps.

“Bottlecaps?” you pointed.

“Ah,” Loki reacted. He started searching the shelves for something. “I’ve begun to collect Midgardian things. My therapist instructed me to ‘fall in love’ with Midgard by collecting things I like about the world. I like your ale.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” you remembered that. Loki handed you a book. It was fairly new and the leather cover enticed you. The title ‘On Control’ shined in the gold font it was in.

“I feel very responsible for your condition,” Loki confessed. “I can control my powers. Let me help you control yours.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s not,” he smiled at you. “All it takes is practice. The more you practice, the better control you have. Soon, you won’t be fainting or throwing up anymore. You’ll be able to command visions to you. You’ll be able to play minds better. Don’t you want that?” It seemed like a daunting task, but what Loki said was enticing. If you gained control, you could help more.

“When can we begin?”

Natasha held both of your hands as you entered the prestigious preschool that Parker Novak had recommended to you both. The young children wore uniforms and each teacher had a doctorate degree in their subject. Loki wore a polished suit with tones of green throughout. You wore a simple black dress with heels.

“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” Loki commented.

“What? I like black.”

“As do I, but this will work better.” With a snap of his fingers, your outfit brightened up in large floral designs with matching tones of green under. A string of pearls appeared around your neck.

“You want us to match?”

“If we both dress well, we’re a normal, rich family who wants their daughter to get into this school. It’s about looks here.” Loki had a point. You watched the secretary knock on the dean’s door. Her dress belt was designer. Her designer shoes clicked the polished hardwood floor.

“The Dean will see you now,” she smiled and walked back to her desk. Her manicured fingers typed away at her keyboard again. Before you and Loki could walk in, another woman called out behind you.

“Hello! I’m Dr. Sarah. I’d like to take Natalie on a tour if that’s all right with you.” Her smile warmed you. You shook her hand. The immediate contact took you inside her mind. Sarah had built her career around children. She wanted nothing but to shape and mold the minds of them and love them since she wasn’t able to have any of her own.

“Dr. Sarah, I hate to impose—

“No, it’s alright Thomas,” you placed a reassuring hand on your pretend husband. You bent down to kiss Natasha’s head. “Go with her, Nat.” She waved a tiny goodbye to you both as Dr. Sarah exited the waiting area.

“You had a glimpse inside her mind?” Loki questioned.

“She had true and good intentions, but yes. I did.”

“Good. Do it again with the dean.”

Loki and you were welcomed into the dean’s office with the greeting smell of vanilla and cotton. Two bookshelves carried distinguished books and picture frames of the dean and his family. College degrees and doctorate degrees hung on the wall. The thick glass windows reminded you how old the building was.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Copeland,” the dean’s deep voice comforted you. His salt and pepper beard looked as wise as the degrees on the wall. “I’m Dr. Malik Andrew Robinson II. Welcome to Andrew Academy. From both of your resumes, I can assume you’re new to Colorado?”

“We are,” Loki nodded. “We only moved here about a month ago. We wanted to give us a chance to really settle in before we put Natalie in school again.”

“That’s an interesting choice,” Dr. Malik said. “May I ask why you moved here?” You chimed in by placing your hand on Loki’s knee.

“He was offered a position with a law firm that we couldn’t pass up. Colorado is a wonderful place to raise a family, and we never had the chance until now. We found our forever home.” Dr. Malik smiled brightly at you both. Loki waited. You needed to get inside the dean’s head.

From what you knew, you needed physical contact with someone to play inside their mind. Unluckily for you, there was a large desk between you and the dean. You had to find some other way.

“How did you find out about us?” Dr. Malik continued. Loki took his turn, distracting the dean while you focused on the dean himself. His wide nose took in every scent that the vanilla had to offer. His smile was even grander. Someone who has seen more happiness than most people and he was grateful for it. You looked around his desk for anything, but most things were out of your reach. Pens, desk trinkets, and a candle. No, that wouldn’t work.

You looked at the Dean again and felt a spark in your mind when he looked back at you. Attention. You needed his attention.

“Dr. Mailk,”you interrupted. “Could you tell us more about the extracurricular programs you offer here at the academy?”

“Of course,” he smiled. A he listed and explained different programs such as art and theatre. You gained his full attention. Once he had his eyes on you, you focused your energy more into his face. You began to see an accomplished man who worked harder than everyone to get the life he had. You saw his own grandkids surrounding him at Christmas time. His immediate thoughts came to you as well. Through his eyes, he saw a rich, young family that wanted to make roots here. Something he identified with.

You squeezed Loki’s hand, hoping to give him an indication of what you saw.

“Do you have any other questions?” he asked.

“No, I think we’re good.”

“Thank you for your time, Doctor. When will we find out?” Loki asked.

“An acceptance or a denial letter will be sent to your home in a week,” Malik told you both. “It’s been a true pleasure. Give Novak my best.

Nat quietly watched television while you and Loki ate popcorn behind her.

“So, were you able to do it?”

“I was. He liked us. We aligned with his values. She’s going to the academy,” you smiled. You offered Loki a high five and he happily matched you. His eyes turned back to the television and narrowed.

“What exactly are we watching again?”

It was your turn to put little Nat to sleep. You tucked her in. Her mother’s dark curls laid all over the pillow. She held onto her favorite teddy bear and looked up to you.

“Do you want me to sing you a song?” you asked. She nodded happily and you began a tune you were familiar with.

Dancing bears, Painted wings, Things I almost remember, And a song someone sings, Once upon a December. Someone holds me safe and warm, Horses prance through a silver storm, Figures dancing gracefully across my memory.

The lullaby lulled your favorite girl right to sleep with pictures of people dancing in her head. Her pretty closed eyes looked too peaceful. Her little hand held your hand, and you felt something that you didn’t feel before. You always loved Natasha and the rest of the Barton family. It never occurred to you to have your own before.

With your mother constantly asking about dates and your last boyfriend using your cushy, high paying job as a reason to be a dick, family wasn’t in the foreseeable future for you. You turned away from Natasha to see Loki standing in the doorway. You both jumped.

“Sorry!” Loki whispered loudly. “I was only passing by when I heard your singing.”

“I’m so sorry about—

“No! Please don’t apologize. It’s lovely. It’s so wonderful,” Loki laughed. “I’ve seen many singers in the royal palaces of Asgard, and you’re better than all of them.” Your eyes started to shift around the room while your fingers played with each other.

“No, no. You don’t have to say that.”

“But it’s true. That song. Is it an old Midgardian song? It sounds old.”

“I wish, but it comes from a movie,” you admitted.

“Perhaps we should watch it sometime. You and I together. Maybe you could even sing that song again. Good night, Y/N.”

You smiled at Loki warmly as you retreated to your own bedroom. “Good night, Loki.”

You felt something arouse you again. It was the same attraction you felt on the Avengers Compound and the Polar Express. A happiness that spread through your chest. A fluttering heart that matched your wandering mind. Loki was your friend for now, but now you had secretly hoped for something more.

Ultimate Tag List (People who wished to be tagged in EVERY work I post.)

@angelicshinigami​​​ @sugarwastaken​​​ @carilov09​​​ ​​​ @i-theredqueen​​​@sleepylunarwolf​​​  @loki-0fasgard​​​  @ravenqueenbr

Loki Tag List (People who wish to be tagged in everything Loki related)

@thisisaclusterofablog​​​ @markusstraya​​​  @affabletimelady​​​@inumorph​​​ @1v-kayla​​​@quinzzelx​​​

To be added or removed or switched from these taglists, just ask!

#the godchild #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki/reader #imagine loki #loki imagine #mcu #mcu fanfic #loki fanfic #mcu imagine

[pakistanstory]

Peshawar Gift

Never I had imagined I could make it to Peshawar. The possibility to visit this incredible city was totally unexpected for me and it was a marvellous gift.

And like with all unexpected gifts, I am even more grateful and happy to have received it.

Since the very first moment I reached Peshawar, I was literally embraced in a gentle hug of generosity, hospitality, readiness to help and warmth. These are in fact for me the main traits of all the Pakistanis I have been meeting so far. I believe a country, a place, is its people, the very people who struggle everyday, live, work, love and dream. And I have been meeting marvellous people.

[In old Peshawar - photocredits: Amir Khan @KPtourism]

I come from Milan, where I support “The Citizens Foundation” (TCF), which is the reason why I am in Pakistan, actually. Thanks to this amazing organisation, I was given the chance to get to know this country, little by little, to discover its true face with its many different nuances and complexities, and its special beauty. It’s not just about external beauty. Alongside the wonderful palaces, mosques and walled cities and landscapes I am visiting, I am struck more and more by the beauty which originates from the hearts of the local people. The beauty of giving for the pleasure of giving. And this is a rare pearl which makes this country so special for me. I was gifted with this rare pearl in Peshawar too, and here even more precious.

We (my travel mate and I) have had the opportunity to visit the city according to two different perspectives, and both so great. First with some local friends, who picked us up from the bus station and took us to a wonderful rooftop terrace to view the city at sun set. Then, with the great Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Tourism Corporation team who led us in a wonderful tour of the old city, its main markets, Meena Bazaar, the archaeological site of Gor Khatri, Sethi Street and Sethi House, and then they also arranged for us a visit to the Takht-i-Bhai Buddhist Complex site in Mardan on the following day.

To walk through Peshawar's old streets and its shops is like jumping back to the past, yet all of it is relevant and functional in the present day. Its vibrant economic activities with, among the others, handicrafts, food outlets, jewellery shops, shoe makers, convey a peculiar and unique vitality. Often, during our walk, I had to look up at the facades of the houses, and I could find out that a sort of hidden, silent beauty, revealed itself little by little.

[In old Peshawar - photocredits: Amir Khan @KPtourism]

Peshawar reveals itself through contemplation and vibrant liveliness, I believe. Contemplation for the ancient inner beauty, its history and precious past, while sitting down for a moment, taking the time for tasting delicious green tea in local qehwa khana (tea place) in Namak Mandi (Salt Market). Vibrant liveliness while observing the economic and business activities which take place at every corner, street, road.

I wish to thank Atif Khan and his marvellous team for this great, unexpected gift and also all the people from Peshawar and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa whom we met during this journey.

I hope I will be able to give back such great a gift too, one day.

Peshawar is a city like no other city I have seen in Pakistan. It is said to be the oldest living city in South Asia and you can feel its historical character as you walk around the bazaar and discover hidden gems like ancient and beautiful Sethi House.

[details of inner courtyard of Sethi House - photo by Laura Notaro]

It was a pleasure to hang out with the Pekhawriyaan, or Peshawarites. Human relations were definitely an important part  of my trip. I understood what people mean when they talk about the famous heart-warming hospitality of this area.

Here are a few things that Peshawar gave me: masheer machli, the best pulao, qehwa tea, or green tea, the smell of spices at Peepal Mandi, the wonders of the Gor Khatri archaeological site, good laughs (especially at my attempts at learning some words in Pashto), and the feeling that there will always be someone to welcome me when I come back (and feed me also!).

[ tasting delicious green tea in local kawa khana (tea place) in Namak Mandi (Salt Market). Photocredits D.B.]

The visit to Takht-I- Bhai was also something special. It was like being in a painting: ancient Buddhist monastery ruins in the beautiful mountains near Mardan.

[Buddhist Monastery ruins of Takht-I-Bhai - photo by Laura Notaro]

Can't wait to see more of Peshawar and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa.

So long, dear new friends, so long.

Photocredits: Amir Khan @KPtourism; @LauraNotaro; D.B.

#KP #KPmemories #Pakistan #Peshawar #Milan2Peshawar #kptourism

[freshytrashywritingtrash]

The Wintersun [P. 1]

Pairing: Loki x OC, Bucky x OC

Wordcount: 1610 whoops

Summary: Merea is one of the younger Avengers, slowly settling in. While still processing her past and trying to learn where she came from, she finds herself caught between two men, tracked by Hydra and confronted with the long forgotten truth of her origin.

Warnings: In this chapter, none

A/N: I don’t even know if people want to read fics with OC’s but I love my little girl and wrote this already anyways 

Merea sat in the second row of the assembly in the conference room, next to her friends Natasha and Wanda. The room was filled with clueless mumbles and confused agents who’ve got interrupted in whatever they were doing. Merea herself was working on a painting as she was notified of the urgent meeting, but not what it was about. Hastily she had washed her hands, pinned her wild blonde waves up and threw on one of the grey trainings sweaters before rushing to the office. Now she was waiting with the others, who seemed to have as much of an idea on what was going on as her.

“Anyone know why we’re here? What’s the matter?” Bucky asked. Merea looked up from mindlessly rubbing on a paint spot on her hand she had missed. Judging on his sports attire and sweaty hair the winter soldier -one of her closest friends- was interrupted in a training session.

But before anyone could answer the doors of the room flung open and several people entered. First Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, both looking important even though they seemed to be stuck in a hushed argument. Next up followed Thor, the god of thunder, looking as cheerful as ever. For once he was wearing normal clothes instead of his armour. Upon the entering of the last person the atmosphere in the conference room seemed to shift. Loki, the god of mischief and known enemy of the avengers, sauntered in wearing a fitted black suit. His steel blue eyes washed over the room, taking in every detail. He knew most of the heroes present except for a petite girl in the back of the room. She was…enchanting. Something about her just caught him, something special. Meanwhile Merea mustered the Trickster. He was handsome, yes, but that didn’t make him less dislikeable.

“What is he doing here?” Dr Banner asked, suspiciously watching the Trickster. His question made Tony and Steve end their argument and straighten up to face the team, which was looking aversed, to say at least.

“So, uh,” the Captain started, seeming not completely happy about the situation. “We have an announcement to make. Now I know that most of you won’t approve at first but- ““Loki will become an Avenger” Tony chimed in, interrupting Steve who just sighed and took a seat.

“What?!” It sounded as if the whole present team spoke in unison. Different words of protest were phrased, ranging from unbelieving questions to hate fuelled insults. Merea decided to stay silent and just watch the trickster, who seemed to fight the urge to snap back at the comments he was receiving.

“Is this a trick? Is Loki bewitching you?” Sam wanted to know from Tony, looking like he was about to start a fight. “Actually, it was Thor’s idea. He came to us.” Tony answered, gesturing at him and the resigned Steve. “He presented us his idea of Loki joining to redeem his glory and help their people bla bla. He said, and I quote “Loki fought greatly to save the remaining Asgardians from Thanos.” We thought about it and discussed it and came to the conclusion that we’ll give this a shot. He seemed like a good fit. Also, we’ll get the Tesseract.” Stark seemed satisfied with his explanation and looked around, expecting everyone to nod approvingly. Which didn’t happen, Merea noticed.

“Steve, do you agree to this, too?” Sam asked the Captain now, hoping to find more answers as he was still confused and unconvinced, like most people in the room. “Well, Thor’s vouching for him. Loki’s a skilled fighter, got great powers and he’s also a great tactician. We can always use good men…” it sounded more like Steve was trying to convince himself than the team.

“That is right, I vouch for the actions of my dear brother, even though I know that Loki of course only means the best. Fear not friends, as for I can promise that Loki has changed. I trust him with my life and I hope that if I can do so, you might, too.” Thor spoke with great confidence. And said confidence seemed to do the trick as many expressions in the room seemed to lighten up to some degree.

“Great, now that this is settled, most of you can leave if they want to. Except for Bucky, Clint and Merea.” Tony announced. Under quiet mumbling and the screeching of metal chairs on the ground most of the team left except for the three agents, Tony and a fifth person, Loki.

Upon being pierced by questioning looks the Aesir answered smoothly. “Mr Stark, you said one could leave if they wanted to, not that they must. I conclude from the way you phrased it that whatever you’re about to announce isn’t top secret. I simply want to get used to the dynamics of this contingent as fast as possible – if you don’t mind I’d rather stay and listen. You won’t even notice I’m here.” Which wasn’t true, Merea observed. While checking the faces of the other people she saw that everyone was somehow fixed on the raven figure. The truth is, Loki just wanted to stay to study the blonde girl. Merea was her name, or so Stark had called her. So fine-sounding…

“Depends on what Mr. T. here has to say” Clint answers, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms to mark his disapproval.

“Actually, it’s about your next mission. Ya’ll go to Wakanda in three weeks to check up on the king and his whole opening-Wakanda-to-the-world business. Also, I got a small delivery of vibranium waiting and I’d be heads over heels if you could bring it back with you. Furthermore, you three need upgrades on your gear. That Shuri kid got some great concepts which she’ll be allowed to torture ya’ll with. Any questions?” Tony explained. While talking he had pulled a hologram with detailed data from his phone in top of the table for everyone to look at. But two people weren’t looking at the data. Loki was fixed on her, Merea noticed, and Bucky stared at Loki? Well, if the god wanted to stare, she’d do, too.

“Yea, how long will we be there? Laura’s birthday is in three and a half weeks and she’d kill me if I wasn’t there.” Clint asked.

“A week, but if it’s a matter of life and death you can leave earlier. Snowflake and sunshine here can handle the rest. Just make sure to get your gear looked at. And bring that V’ with you, C’. F.R.I.D.A.Y. remind me to send a fruit basket to Laura for her birthday.” With that Tony ended the meeting, waving at them before leaving. Clint got up and heads out as well, leaving Merea, Bucky and Loki behind.

“Doll, are you an artist or just a canvas? Because you seem to enjoy painting on yourself” Bucky reached over to Merea and tried to wipe off some paint on her jaw, making her shift her gaze from the ice blue eyes of Loki to the deep sapphire ones of Bucky. Loki watched the two and got jealous. Why would such a divine woman let that scruff dog touch her?

“You’re a hot mess sometimes, you know that? Chaotic cute.” Bucky chuckled. He dropped his hand as he noticed that the paint on her skin had already dried.

“Why are we being so attentive, James? Got stood up again?” Merea looked at her friend and arched a brow. She knew he didn’t like getting called that name, making her use it with mischievous pleasure.

“You know you’re my only flame, do you?” He softly nudged her arm and chuckled a little more before getting out of his chair. Merea chuckled as well before pulling herself from her chair with a whine. “I hate muscle soreness.”

“What muscles?” Bucky grinned, taking her arm between his thumb and index finger to show how thin it was while they both headed for the door, completely ignoring the Trickster

Merea only rolled her eyes in response. “I got to head back to my painting before it dries up completely. See you later.”

“Until a while, crocodile” and with that, they both headed out of the conference room.

Merea was already around the next corner as she heard the silk voice that made her stop and turn around. “Excuse me, could you show me where the compounds are? My brother and I agreed to meet there so he could show me my rooms.” He smiled innocently, marvelling her features from up close. Well not that close. She was a head smaller than him. But still he couldn’t stop himself from noticing the golden specks in her eyes.

Merea had to put her head up to look at the Trickster, who was way too close behind her in her opinion. Calmly, she answered. “Yea, just come with me I’m heading there anyways.”

“Wonderful.” Loki smiled at her charmingly. But she just furrowed her brows and turned around. “This way.”

They both walked quietly for a moment before the Aesir smiled at her. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t get your name back there.”

“Because I haven’t told you. I’m Merea.” She answered, sticking her hands into the belly pouch of her hoodie.

“That is a beautiful name, I must admit. Your parents are to be complimented.” He answered with his silk voice while they rounded another corner.

“I don’t know if I have parents.” She answered, completely ignoring his charming smile. “We’re here.” And with that, she left him standing in the hall of the compounds as she entered her rooms.

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki asgard #tom hiddleston #bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #wintersoldier #james barnes #sebastian stan #stan #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #thor #chris hemsworth #captain america #steve rogers #chris evans #tony stark #ironman #robert downey jr #loki x oc #bucky x oc #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #bucky fic

[frnkievigo]

- character sheet

BASICS

Full Name: Saskia Jane Cohen.

Meaning of Name: Saskia means something random but really her parents just couldn’t settle on Saskia or Jane so her dad calls her Saskia and her mom calls her Jane and its confusing.

Nickname: Sask.

Birth Date: April 4th, 1996.

Astrological Sign and Details: Super super Aries.

Birth Place: Los Angeles, California. She hated it and always wanted to move east.

Age: 21.

Nationality: American

Race: Caucasian.

Hair Color: Brown.

Hair Style: Always tangled and naturally wavy/curly.

Distinct Features of Face: Bright blue eyes, bloodshot usually, cracked lips from where she bites them.

Glasses or Contacts: Nah.

Eye Color: Blue

Skin Tone: White and freckly.

Scars or Distinguishing Marks: She has a large number of scars from fighting like a hellion. Crescent moon shaped scars on her neck from where an ex of hers tried to strangle her.

Disabilities: Depression, anorexia. She’s been in an out of treatment for years.

Build or Body Type: Long and thin, usually hiding under baggy t-shirts.

Height: 5′10

Weight: 115 lbs

Speech Patterns: Valley girl that gets stronger when she’s drunk. Most of the time she speaks in a flat monotone, but you can tell when she’s rolling because she talks a mile a minute.

Tag Words: Whatever, like, fucking hell.

Gestures: Licks her lips before she speaks.

Weakness: Men who treat her badly.

FAMILY AND CHILDHOOD

Mother: Laura Cohen.

Father: Jonathan Cohen.

Mother’s Occupation: Divorcee living off of alimony with her new young boyfriend.

Father’s Occupation: Lawyer for Apple, filthy fucking rich.

Family Finances: Absolutely spoiled rotten.

Birth Order: Youngest child, her brother is a few years older.

Brothers: Luke Cohen.

Other Close Family: Saskia has a cousin named Cleo who’s a bit of a character. Whenever Cleo blows into town Saskia usually heads off with her for what end up as week long benders in shitty motel rooms.

Best Friend: Bradley Milligan (they just always end up in groups together dfgfd) but as a NPC? Probably Ramona even though she’s terrible for Saskia and so toxic.

Other Friends: Astrid, Gabe, AJ, Caroline, Norman, probably others idk man

Enemies: Um probably plenty.

Pets: Nah she’s not responsible enough for that.

Home Life During Childhood: Tumultuous and rocky. Saskia’s mom was emotionally and physically abusive and her dad was absent and distant. Laura Cohen is probably the most responsible for Saskia forming an eating disorder, she started her on diets like before she hit puberty. And in her brother, who was pretty unstable on good days and it was a powder keg.

Town or City Name(s): Malibu, Los Angeles, Rochester.

What Did His, Her or Their Bedroom Look Like: Painted hospital white but decorated with all of her posters, drawings, etc.

Any Sports or Clubs: FUCK no.

Favorite Toy or Game:She was a huge fan of those desktop Nancy Drew games bc she’s a secret nerd.

Schooling: Private Catholic schools with starchy uniforms where she excelled academically but was also considered one of the bad kids.  

Favorite Subject: Math, actually.

Popular or Loner: Bit of both. She basically ran her group of troublemakers.

Important Experiences or Events: Oh man here we go with the trauma. Her parent’s divorce was awful. It was a relief to her when they finally weren’t together anymore. Her abusive ex nearly killing her in a shitty apartment. Her brother physically assaulting her when he was having a particularly bad manic episode and breaking her hand. Getting into a car crash last year while Cleo was driving high.

Health Problems: She gets nosebleeds frequently from all the coke she does. Her ed isn’t too bad right now but when it is she has heart problems, has fainted in the middle of class before.

Religion and beliefs: Her dad is Jewish but she doesn’t believe in anything.

PERSONAL

Bad Habits: Biting her nails and lips, always running late. She’s a night owl and will always oversleep.

Good Habits: Somehow always remembering to stay hydrated? Will chug water when wasted.

Best Characteristic: Tough as nails.

Worst Characteristic: Um probably her aggression.

Worst Memory: Luke assaulting her.

Best Memory: Driving up the coast of California with Cleo.

Proud of: Her efforts in music.

Embarrassed by: Her lack of impulse control.

Driving Style: Fast and distracted. Sings along to the radio, fixes her hair in the mirror.

Temperament: Mercurial. Flies off the handle easily.

Attitude: Pessimistic and sarcastic. She takes the piss out of everything.

Fears: People touching her neck. Moths, strangely enough.

Phobias: Arachnophobia.

Secrets: Her family and what happened to her are very private. She also hides her frequent drug use, unless she’s partying.

Regrets: Not sticking up for herself earlier. Dating her ex Danny.

Feels Vulnerable When: Discussing emotions.

Pet Peeves: People who tap on the table, close talkers, people who laugh really loudly.

Motivation: To just get through this year.

Short Term Goals and Hopes: She doesn’t have any god.

Long Term Goals and Hopes: To graduate.

Sexuality: Heterosexual. But, if she really liked a girl she would be open.

Exercise Routine: Sit ups late at night when no one is watching.

Day or Night Person: Night owl.

Introvert or Extrovert: Extrovert.

Optimist or Pessimist: Pessimist.

LIKES AND PREFERENCES

Music: Fleetwood Mac, The Kinks, Elvis Costello, etc.

Foods: Lemons, cherries, mints, anything that’s not really food.

Drinks: Has a soft spot for root beer because of one day when her dad actually spent time with her in a park drinking root beers.  

Animals: Cat person.

Color: Red.

Clothing: Leather jackets, ripped up jeans, Doc Martens, fishnet tights.

Jewelry: He wears a locket with some of Paige’s ashes in it.

Websites: Twitter I guess?

TV Shows: Breaking Bad, and actually trashy reality shows.

Movies: Kill Bill, Cruel Intentions

Greatest Want: To have somebody love her, ever part of her.

Greatest Need: Probably to get a fucking therapist.

LIFESTYLE

Favorite Possession: A ring she inherited from her grandmother.

Most Cherished Possession: Stuffed rabbit.

Married Before: Nope.

Significant Other Before: Danny and a few other boyfriends.

Children: N/A.

Relationship with Family: God nearly nonexistant at this point… They send her money and that’s all the contact they have.

Car: Beat up convertible.

Dream Career: To be a musician.

Dream Life: A life where all her trauma never happened.

Love Life: LOL.

Sexual Turn Ons: Dominance, roughness, yeh.

Sexual Turn Offs: Daddy stuff is gross for her.

Hobbies: Guitar, singing.

Guilty Pleasure: Sex and cocaine.

Talents or Skills: She can open champagne with a sword. She’s also witty and funny but doesn’t realize it.

Intelligence Level: Pretty fuckin smart!

#eating disoder tw #abuse tw #violence tw #drug use tw #car crash tw #lockwoodtask:005 #hits the whip

[phynxrizng]

A WITCHES CONFESSION ABOUT HALLOWEEN

PAGAN A Witch’s Confession About Halloween OCTOBER 25, 2017 BY LAURA TEMPEST ZAKROFF Photo by the author of a festive display in an Atlanta neighborhood When I was a young Witchlet, the words Halloween and Samhain were largely interchangeable in the larger community. Typically the phrasing would be something like, “yeah, Samhain – aka Halloween…” – this thing, also known as that thing, same thing – especially when dealing with the general public. My understanding was that it was a way to say, “this thing is based on our beliefs, another connection to be aware of.” As the years have gone by, more and more distinction, sometimes with the aid of a crowbar, has been made. Generally that Halloween is a secular, manufactured or other-faith origin day, while Samhain is sacred, witchy, and ancient. Which is totally fine, and something I find interesting to observe. Human behavior, especially in regards to trends and changes, fascinates me. For me personally, what has changed over the years is my relation to Sabbats (in the Wheel of the Year sense). I’m not inclined to mark a specific day with a rite or celebration unless I feel called to do so. Instead of focusing on a specific day, I am marking and observing a larger seasonal shift. As I mentioned in my working with the dead post, some things aren’t seasonal to me either – they’re a year-round kind of thing. So if I’m remembering and working with the deceased on a regular basis (especially on their birth and death days), that tends to take the oomph out of a specific day or time that others may devote to it. I acknowledge Samhain, but I’m not likely to perform a specific rite on my own for it. So what about Halloween then? Here’s my confession: I freaking LOVE Halloween. To me, Halloween isn’t about remembering the dead, as much as it’s about celebrating life and its cycles. It’s about playfulness, creativity, confronting fears, spooky stuff, and finding beauty and life in death and decay. It’s a celebration of the wyrd, weird, and wild. It’s a time where sometimes you can really be yourself inside and out. It’s not about dressing up or buying costumes, though I enjoy watching other folks do it. As someone who must outfit for the stage regularly, I don’t get much of a thrill getting into costume. In fact, I have been known to snarkily refer to it as “amateur night” – but I still get a kick out of it. (I’m a Gemini, I can be an asshole at the same time I love and enjoy something.) As someone who makes a living out of being an artist and thinking creatively, I love to see other people shift their consciousness to play. I think it’s healthy and fun for folks to use those muscles more, to see how costume can transform the spirit – even just for one night. “Communing” – new painting by the author Halloween represents creativity to me. In my family, we never bought costumes from the store or rented them – we made them from scratch and spare parts. The first Halloween I can remember, my grandmother sewed for me an E.T. costume, and my brothers were Reeses’ Pieces (made from hoops and fabric). Grandmom was a seamstress and could make anything with a pattern (and then some.) My dad has always been crafty with his hands, so there was the year someone was a Coke can, a Sony walkman, a can of Campbell’s soup, and other fun things. The Catholic school we went to had a Halloween parade for many years, until it was phased out by the time I graduated. Scares about razor blades and drugs in candy in the late 80’s and the infamous “you’re too old” (despite my brothers having done it through high school, so it was more about girls being out on their own at night fears) curbed trick-or-treating. Mom still decorated the house though and pumpkins were procured and carved.  But as fears fueled by Satanic panic and stranger danger cut back on Halloween festivities, as I grew up, I found myself tied more deeply to the season itself. I became more aware and appreciative of the shedding of orange, yellow, and red leaves against brilliant blue skies. The smell in the air and the temperature shift makes me feel even more alive every year – like waking up after slumbering under the heat of summer. The telling of spooky stories and ghosts, of transforming of front yards into graveyards, bedecked in bones and cobwebs. Meanwhile the changing habits of the squirrels, rabbits, and birds talk of upcoming changes, and preparing home and self for the winter ahead. Speaking of home preparation, it’s my favorite time of year to shop. I try not to accumulate STUFF, but I love acquiring useful, well-made things that are decorated with some of my favorite witchy and spooky motifs. Leading up to Halloween (and on serious sale afterwards), I refresh my stock of kitchen towels and linens – covered in ravens, owls, bones, and witches. I replace out broken mugs and dishware with new ones. I definitely needed that bin shaped like a giant black cat for a storage basket. So yes, it looks like Halloween at my house all year around. And that makes me stupid happy. It’s also why I love going to New Orleans this time of year. (And when I lived in New England, it was a trip to Salem, MA.) New Orleans is such a mix of old and new, grit and glitz, dead and living spirits – and it dresses up with no reserves this time of year. But it’s not too crazy for someone who gets anxious around large crowds. We spend time with folks who are another kind of family, perform our art to add to the festivities at various balls and other events, and enjoy being alive in the middle of it all. When you think about it, days and seasons can come and go without us doing anything about it. We don’t acknowledge them because we HAVE to – the world isn’t going to stop because you didn’t do a certain ritual for a Sabbat. It will continue on. But when we can find pure joy in revelry, in feeling more alive, in celebrating what makes us wyrd – that’s truly living and acknowledging the sacredness in life.  I hope you all have a very happy and playful Halloween! TAGGED WITH:HALLOWEENPAGAN NEWSLETTERSAMHAIN...MORE Sponsored Links You May Like This app will get you speaking a new language in 3 weeks Babbel Diabetes Treatments Yahoo Search What Does Your German Last Name Say About You? Ancestry by Taboola October 18, 2017 Samhain Season: 4 Ways I Work With the Dead October 26, 2017 Navigating the Witch's Maze in Dark Times  RECENT COMMENTS 0 COMMENTS "Thank you, to Laura Tempest Zakroff, for your article "4 Ways I Work With The ..." CHARLENE MCCLARNEN FLINT SAMHAIN SEASON: 4 WAYS I WORK ..." "Thanks, Laura. Shared on FB." MACHA NIGHTMARE SAMHAIN SEASON: 4 WAYS I WORK ..." 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[numberplates4u-blog]

2016 was ….

Team Bill Rawles Classic Cars Ltd – Everybody has a story – What was your 2016 like? Can you believe it is 2017? The end of a year is a time to reflect, take stock of the year past and plan for the year ahead. How would you describe your year just gone, 2016 was……… Another year has passed and we are all guilty of saying “where did that year go?” Time does seem to go exceptionally fast. It’s not surprising when our lives are crammed full with work, family, friends, socialising, messaging, communicating, events, chores, jobs, projects, travelling, business and pleasure. Our lives, work and society does move at an unprecedented pace. 2016 has seen the rise of Donald Trump to the fall of Cameron’s Britain, a vote to leave the European Union, troubles in the Middle East, devastating acts of terrorism and the loss of a number of high profile celebrities. Can you believe it was a year ago that David Bowie died? Where did 2016 go? We saw good and bad, happiness and sadness. A great deal happens in any one year on a global scale and a lot happens for us individually too. Not the best start for Bill Rawles Classic Cars So how did 2016 start for Bill Rawles Classic Cars? The year started off the same as any new year, full of hopes, excitement, plans and dreams, tinged with anticipation and uncertainty as you can never be complacent. Anyone who knows Bill Rawles knows that he was born with more than his fair share of positivity, get up and go, motivation and a switch that is rarely off! The 24th January 2016 was just like any other Sunday morning. Bill had a full day of jobs planned, ranging from decorating, wood chopping, bonfire burning and any general fixing and fiddling that he thought was required. This was all put on hold when job number one, the decorating, went wrong. Overstretching on a ladder, rubbing down some plaster in the stairwell, ready for a splash of paint, did not go as planned. This school boy error led to Bill taking a high speed ride down the ladder and smashing his foot on a wooden stair. This seemingly insignificant accident, that required a 999 call out, turned out to be a complete life changing episode.       Bill had smashed his calcaneous. A bone we knew nothing about until this day but we have since become well educated and experts on the heel bone or “ducks bill”. It turns out to be known as the lovers fracture because it is classically caused in a cheating wife’s male lover who jumps from the bedroom window to escape the enraged spouse. Ironically it is also a common injury sustained in high impact motoring accidents. All those years worrying about Bills Healey racing and it should have been his DIY exploits that we lost sleep about!   This small mistake led to Bill being in hospital for over 4 weeks, non-weight bearing for 4 months and not really working to full capacity for 5 months.  During this time he developed a bone and flesh infection that initially threatened a loss of limb. Recovery has been slow, with the injury still noticeable as we come up to its anniversary.  Our life revolved around plaster casts, crutches, zimmer frames, mobility scooters, wheel chairs, surgeons, specialists, hospital appointments, endless tablets and physiotherapy. We had an abundance of visitors and well-wishers. These men only coffee mornings required a continuous supply of hot drinks and biscuits.   We survived Bills grumpiness, frustration and demands. It was hard to see such an active person become so incapacitated. We can’t wash over this episode without mentioning that Bill and sons did enjoy racing and competing in time trials around the house driving the mobility scooter to its full potential. Making the best out of a bad situation – Mobility Time Trials After all this 2016 only got better. Did I mention Bills positivity, drive and determination? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger During Bills long recovery time and inactivity it left him with a lot of time to think. With a fantastic team behind him, they faultlessly kept the business running. It gave Bill minimum stress and maximum time to get back on his feet (literally). Bill Rawles established Rawles Motorsport of Upper Froyle, Hampshire in 1987 and sold it to Andrew Cluett in 2007 (to avoid any confusion, after selling this business, Bill Rawles Classic Cars Ltd has NO association with Andrew Cluett and Rawles Motorsport). Bill subsequently started Bill Rawles Classic Cars Ltd, a small venture working from Home. With the expiration of the five year non- compete contract with Rawles Motorsport, Bill Rawles Classic Cars has grown year on year. Bill used his down time to plan a new step for the business. In July 2016 Bill Rawles Classic Cars moved from his purpose built home premises to a new spacious workshop, only a stone’s throw away. Paul Hardiman, of Classic and Sports Car Magazine came to visit the new workshop and wrote a full page feature which was published in the November 2016 edition of the magazine. Paul said “Since selling up a decade ago, Rawles worked as ‘a man in a shed’ until gathering momentum forced expansion. The theme is still Big Healeys, but this time Rawles v3 – if you will – is more organised, more streamlined, thanks to experience learned over three decades” Click on this link to read the full version Focus on The Big Picture, by Paul Hardiman, Classic & Sports Car Magazine, November 2016, Page 209 Bill Rawles Classic Cars Ltd new workshop – Unit 2, Dukes Mill, Station Approach, Medstead, Alton, Hants, GU34 5EN The workshop comprises new ramps, a four post inspection ramp, three 2 post ramps plus 2 scissor lifts for bodywork, a new tyre fitting machine, lathes, a Bridgeport Mill, a jig borer, an English Wheel, state of the art tig, mig and spot welders. The facilities and strong skill set team caters for all your classic car needs. We have the ability to create bespoke parts and carryout many one off individual requests as well as everyday restorations, servicing, maintenance, paintwork, motorsport prep and engine and gearbox work, trimming, storage and transportation. The team keeps getting better We think that we have got the winning team at Bill Rawles Classic Cars We have the most fantastic, friendly, helpful, dedicated, skilled staff. We are so lucky to have a great bunch of guys, girls and animals who get on so well together. A happy work place is a productive work place. 2016 would not have been such a memorable year without the contribution of each and every team member – THANK YOU – Bill, Rose, Charlie, Will, Adrian, Greg, Tom, Dave, Rob and sometimes Roger, Ollie, Jack, Eleanor, Harriet & Beth At the end of 2015 we welcomed Adrian and Will. Another father and son team within our team. They barely had time to settle in, when Adrian was thrown in at the deep end and found himself in January 2016 taking on the responsibility of running the workshop with limited contact or direction from Bill in his hospital bed. Adrian, an Austin Healey owner himself, heads up the mechanical shop and nothing ever fazes him. It can be heard whispered around the workshop “Adrian is amazing” It doesn’t seem like you are at work when everyone gets on so well In 2016 we also welcomed Dave Thomas, formerly of XRN Engineering Ltd. Dave heads up our dedicated engine building room, coupled with the expertise of Bill Rawles and his race winning engines. When the workshop is running dry you can rely on Dave to make a brew. 2016 saw a good supply of tea. We also welcomed Tom Hayward. Tom is currently doing a motorsport degree and joins us 3 days a week. Tom also had a new born son in December and named him…..Austin. Congratulations from Team Bill Rawles In April 2016 the workshop had the addition of another dog. Alfie had been top dog for nearly 10 years and he had to make way for the very cute Ted. Ted belongs to Charlie Rawles, who heads up our bodyshop and restoration projects. Ted is probably more of an office dog. Alfie’s skill sets are more in barking, licking and looking for treats. Wedding Bells Saturday 23rd July 2016 – Mr & Mrs Rogers One of the highlights of 2016 must be the wedding of Greg and Laura. Greg Rogers works with Charlie Rawles on bodywork and restoration. Greg is our early bird and must be thanked for opening the workshop every work day at 8am, before Bill has even opened his eyes. Greg survived the Stag night, organised by best man Charlie Rawles. The stag was treated to a weekend of mayhem, accompanied by team Bill Rawles (minus Bill because he had a bad foot). The climax of their exploits must have been to watch Greg undertaking his surprise skydiving experience. Ice cool Greg said “yeh it was alright, I loved it” However, we are not sure that Laura approved. Greg and Laura tied the knot on Saturday 23rd July 2016. It was a beautiful day, the sun shone, the laughter flowed and the happiness could be felt. A truly fantastic day organised by two inspirational youngsters. In keeping with his classic car passion, the wedding took on a car theme. Greg had exclusive use of our Jaguar E Type for the weekend and his father in law to be organised a line-up of Renault Alpines. The table settings also had a car theme. We wish you both a long and happy married life. Greg and Laura are off to New Zealand on their honeymoon in February 2017.     Two Austin Healey 100 S sold in 2016 The first Austin Healey 100 S sold at Bill Rawles Classic Cars Ltd in 2016   In 2016 we saw a record number of classic car sales for Bill Rawles Classic Cars Ltd. This included selling two of the most sought after Austin Healey model, The Austin Healey 100 S (Sebring). It is thought that the whereabouts of only about 35 of the 50 cars built is known today, so it is not often that they become available for sale on the open market. Not One but Two Austin Healey 100 S sold at Bill Rawles Classic Cars Ltd in 2016 Many published reports and articles, detailing 2016 classic car sales and predicting the 2017 trend generally lean towards discussions that the classic car market is still strong and growing, with popular marques still holding value or slightly increasing. Hagerty Classic Car Insurance reports “the UK Classic Car Market is still growing. Big Healeys have risen quite significantly in value in the last few years and values have now stabilised. Good examples are still in demand, especially cars with racing history or some kind of provenance” New Happy Healey owner driving off in Roy Jackson-Moores Healey 100 M Spec BN2 Whatever the global pattern maybe, we are not seeing any waning enthusiasm or decreased desire for classic car ownership. Interest and inquiries remain high. People are either adding to collections, making an investment or realizing hard earned cash into an interest and hobby that can provide enjoyment, excitement, adventure and new friendships as well as hopefully increasing in value too. We think that our honest approach, realistic rather than over inflated sales prices and fixed price sales commission are a strong determining factor as to why we sold 30 classic cars in 2016. Sold in 2016 and exported to Japan – Austin Healey 100 M spec BN1 In 2016 we sold the following vehicles:- 1x TR4 1x TR6 1x MG TF 1500 1x MG Ashley Sprite 1x E Type Series 2 2x Austin Healey 100 S (Sebring) 3x Austin Healey Frogeye Sprites 3x Austin Healey 100-6 7x Austin Healey 100 including M spec Marques 10x Austin Healey 3000 Austin Healey 3000 MK I BN7 commission built and sold by Bill Rawles Classic Cars in 2016   The first car that we sold in January 2016 was a commission built Austin Healey 3000 MK I BN7, which a year later has been resold by Graeme Hunt Car Sales of Kensington – The sales spec is extremely complimentary “A remarkable Healey, built literally no expense spared. Over 2000 man hours were lavished producing what must be, if not the best, then certainly one of the very best examples anywhere in the world” The Graeme Hunt sales spec goes on to say “We simply cannot express how wonderful this big Healey really is and to see it is to behold the wondrous works completed by the very well renowned Bill Rawles and his team” Classic Car owner? Bored? Classic Car owner and the word bored can surely never be used in the same sentence. 2016 was just like any other year with a full calendar of places to go, people to see and things to do in a classic car. We never seem to have enough time to do all the events, shows and gatherings that we are invited to. Bill tried not to let the chronic pain and disability of his injury get in the way. The Austin Healey Club New Forest Austin Healey Club, Chairman, Jim Finch takes his first selfie at the Annual Dinner Dance at The Hotel Miramar, Bournemouth As members of The Austin Healey Club and in particular as supporters and committee members of The New Forest Austin Healey Club, we try to support as many of their organised events as possible. We attempt to attend the monthly pub meets and a few of the jollies. In 2016 we joined the annual Dinner Dance in Bournemouth, Drive it Day and the skittles night. White Dove Collectors’ Transport Show Proud to support The White Dove Collectors’ Transport Show For a number of years we have sponsored The White Dove Collectors’ Transport Show. The classic car show has become an annual event not to be missed in our Bill Rawles Classic Cars calendar. Year on year this classic car show has grown and flourished. Every year this event achieves a staggering gathering of vintage and classic cars, bikes, military and commercial vehicles. Once a year a quiet field in Kingsley, near Bordon, Hampshire, is transformed by the dedicated hard working White Dove committee, to a delightful day for socialising, chilling, relaxing, eating, drinking and tapping your toes to live music. All this is done with the sole aim of raising money for The Phyllis Tuckwell Hospice in Farnham. In 2016 we were again blessed with beautiful sunshine and a day full of laughter, happiness and good memories. Team Rawles all pitch in to help at The White Dove Collectors’ Transport Show – raising money for The Phyllis Tuckwell Hospice The White Dove committee said “We would like to thank the Bill Rawles Classic Car team for their support, commitment and dedication to help us to be able to carry out all the events and the work that we achieve. Thank you for sharing our vision. Also thank you to The New Forest Austin Healey Club for supporting the show for the second year running” 2016 saw £12,263.79 raised for the Hospice. Bill Rawles Classic Cars and The New Forest Austin Healey Club at The White Dove   Healey Drivers Club – International weekend 2016 Healey Drivers Club – International Weekend 2016 – 13th – 15th May – Arundel   Healey Drivers Club – International Weekend 2016 – 13th – 15th May – Arundel This year’s International Meeting was quite a significant gathering as it recognised and celebrated the 70 years since the fledgling Donald Healey Motor Company produced its first car, which was the 4-seater Westland, capable of over 100 mph and the 60th Anniversary of the Donald Healey Motor Company achieving 201.10 mph in the Austin Healey Streamliner at Bonneville Salt Flats. Bill Rawles Classic Cars were very happy to be invited to be part of this gathering, we were on hand to provide any assistance with the cars should it be needed. The Bill Rawles Classic Car Team were on hand, smiling as always and ready to sort out any misbehaving Healeys The weekend started on Friday afternoon with over 60 Healeys and their owners arriving at The Hilton Avisford Park Hotel, Arundel. Saturday consisted of a 35 mile planned drive, taking the cars through the beautiful countryside of the South Downs National Park and arriving at Amberley Museum & Heritage Centre.   Saturday evening the guest speaker at the Gala Dinner was Ian Northeast from the Bloodhound SSC project who gave an inspirational presentation about the Supersonic land-speed car which is a new high technology project aiming to break 1,000 mph barrier and set a new world land speed record. Sunday consisted of another planned drive to Arundel Castle, followed by lunch back at The Hilton Avisford Park Hotel and Prize giving before everyone said their goodbyes and departed probably feeling a bit tired but very happy after such a lovely weekend. Who misbehaved the most – the cars or their owners? Somebody used the wrong fuel! Natters and Nibbles 2016 saw a record number of visitors enjoying our Saturday Morning Natters & Nibbles   In 2012 we had the idea of running a monthly classic car meet at our workshop. 2016 was our fifth year of Natters & Nibbles and collecting for The Alton & Petersfield Multiple Sclerosis Society and The Phyllis Tuckwell Hospice. We were blessed with amazing weather and a record number of people and classic cars attending. We make the coffee and cakes, cut the grass and put up the bunting. The rest is over to our visitors to socialise, chat and have a good morning out. In August one of our Healey customers rushed home and fired up his aeroplane. Before we knew it we had an unscheduled air display of a Yak over our coffee morning. How cool is that?   We have not yet counted the amounts collected but we are confident that you have collected well over £500.00 for our charities – Thank you Raising money for The Alton & Petersfield and District Multiple Sclerosis Society & The Phyllis Tuckwell Hospice    Thames Valley Austin Healey Club Technical Morning   There must be a collective name for a group of men around an engine?   The Thames Valley Austin Healey Club approached Bill Rawles and asked if he would hold a technical morning. Way, way back many years ago Bill held a similar event and apparently it was so much enjoyed that it is still talked about today. So on Saturday 05th November 2016 we welcomed over 25 Healey owners into the workshop. All best laid plans usually go awry. We had a quick planning meeting where it was decided Rose & the girls were on refreshments, Dave was ready for engine building questions, Charlie & Greg were prepared for restoration and bodywork demonstrations, Adrian was all geared up for the mechanical issues, Will was on crowd control and Bill was on tuning and engine set up. This structured format went out the window. The attendees made their own agenda, stayed more than a morning and seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves. We are not sure what information they gleamed, if any but it was a good social gathering. In fact they enjoyed themselves so much we have been asked to host again in 2017 The Thames Valley Technical Morning was a success and they have asked to repeat a visit in 2017   Anything else? As well as all of the above we managed to fit in the classic car shows that our local Herald Group Newspapers organise in the surrounding towns of Alton, Farnham and Petersfield. We appeared at a local pub,Classic & Vintage car show, held at The Hinton Arms. We went on a few lunches and pub meets with another small classic car club and we even managed a few trips in the E Type to the coast and National Trust properties. Classic Car owner? Bored? I don’t think so The Mac 4×4 Challenge The “Mac 4×4” is intended to be a fun “challenge” over 3 or 4 days for 4×4 enthusiasts raising money for Macmillan Cancer In March 2016 Greg Rogers asked if he could take a few days off work to take part in the Mac 4×4 Challenge. The 2016 event marked the 15th annual run. The weekend consists of a test of navigational skills, observation, on and off road driving ability and endurance; by day and night. Each team consists of only two people and one vehicle. The main aim is to raise money for The Macmillan Cancer Support. The Macmillan Cancer Support is the UKs major charity devoted to the support, treatment and care of people living with cancer and their families. The Mac 4×4 Challenge supports Macmillan’s continuing efforts to provide better support for everyone affected through Macmillan nurses, doctors, buildings, patient grants and information services.   It is intended to be a long weekend of fun covering between 400 and 1000 miles with various “tests” along the way. Initially teams only know where they are starting from; the route develops with the issue of road books as the event unfolds until the finish. Night stops mean sleeping rough, in the vehicle or a tent. We are proud to say that Greg survived the 4 days with his future father in law and went on to marry Laura later in the year. They also raised a substantial amount for the charity. We are pleased to say Greg survived 4 days on the challenge with his future father in law and raised over £3600.00 for the Macmillan Cancer Support   A Bus man’s Holiday – The North Coast 500   A bus man’s holiday is defined as a holiday where you do something similar to your usual work instead of having a rest from it… Well in October 2016 that is exactly what we did. We (Bill and Rose) combined delivering a sales car to Aberdeen and picking up a restoration job in Inverness with a short break. We did a whistle stop tour of The North Coast 500. The North Coast 500 is described as Scotland’s answer to Route 66. The North Coast 500 is a 516 mile scenic route around the north coast of Scotland, starting and ending at Inverness Castle. The circular route skirts the very top of the United Kingdom and consists of an open road taking in beautiful scenery, mainly shared with sheep, deer, wildlife and a few other people. From East to West you get to see fairy-tale castles, architectural wonders, ruins, lochs, beaches, towering Munroe’s and mountains. These northern climes are remote, challenging and beautiful, offering unparalleled views of the dreamy highlands. This corner of Scotland also has plenty of mouth-watering food and drink to delight your taste buds. With a bit of planning you can find some great accommodation, tea rooms and restaurants. In 7 days we managed 3000 miles and nearly 1000 photos later we can say we would recommend this trip to anyone, especially in a classic car. Will we definitely be returning to do trip again, but in a classic car not a mini bus.    Did anyone mention motorsport in 2016? Rounding up our summary of 2016 would not be complete if we didn’t mention the little bit of motorsport that we also seem to cram into the year. Motorsport in 2016 was not an option for Bill with his injury. Stepping up to the mark, to fill that vacant race car, was youngest son, Jack Rawles. Could we have a prime suspect from the accident scene? Some even say that Jack Rawles shook that ladder!!! Jack Rawles had a very successful year racing his Dad’s Healey at Silverstone, Brands Hatch and Thruxton in the Classic Sports Car championship. Jack Rawles achieved class positions at all three rounds. He was invited to share two drivers with David Grace in his Austin Healey 3000 at the Spa Six Hour and The Algarve Classic Festival. Again he achieved success at both these over-seas events.   The two highlights of Jacks 2016 racing year must be winning both Healey races at The Castle Combe Autumn Classic and becoming the 2016 Healey Driver International Champion and setting the fastest lap record in a Healey at Portimao, during the Algarve Classic Festival. Jack was also presented with an award, by David Brabham at the Classic and Sports Car award presentation and Dinner evening. Further reading of some of these events can be found by following these links:- Jack Rawles & Jake Hill race at Silverstone Jack Rawles & Hugo Holland Bosworth race at Brands Hatch A double win for Jack Rawles at Castle Comb Lap Record created by Jack Rawles at Algarve Classic Festival As a business we also sponsor the Jensen Healey and Big Healey categories of the Healey Sport Hill Climb Championship. In November we went along to the Healey Sport Hop at the Village Hotel, Swindon. “We” comprising the whole family and the Healey. The Healey Sport elite gathered for their annual nosh, knees-up and prize giving. Rose Rawles was there and ready to present the prizes for the Big Healey category of the Hill Climb Championship. The evening also remembered Allan Cameron, who lost his battle with cancer in January. Allan was the technical support behind Healey Driver International, as well as its General Manager.   Allan’s family, Carol, Neil and Drew very graciously made three magnificent trophies available to commemorate the 2016 race events. The winners are able to keep the trophies in perpetuity to remember the very special contribution Allan made to the Healey competition movement over the years as organiser, driver, participant, car preparer and an encouraging parent behind the racing efforts of both sons, Neil and Drew. Jack Rawles was honoured to be presented with one of these trophies for winning both HDI races at The Castle Combe Autumn Classic. During the evening, Jack Rawles was also asked to team up with June Stokes to reward retiring Chairman Derek Ross with a fine Whiskey Decanter for his many years of dedicated support to Healey Sport. We – The Healey and all the family – went to The Healey Sport Annual Prize Giving and Dinner   So, where did 2016 go?   You blink and before you know it, Christmas has come around again. Summing up 2016; from adversity came opportunity. The year definitely started on a negative note but ended on a positive one. We achieved far more than we set out to do at the end of 2015. We crammed a lot into 365 days and in our small way we have carried on with creating our legacy. There is something that this Blog has failed to mention and that is all the different jobs that were in the workshop. 2016 was a very busy year in the workshop. A big thank you to all our customers too. We left the title of this Blog unfinished; Are we now in a better position to fill in the blank? 2016 was…. a potential disaster sad scary frightening unpredictable a wakeup call busy buzzing exciting eventful memorable full of change fantastic not boring happy good On reflection it was all of the above and probably a great many things more.   What words would finish your same sentence? 2016 was……….. Happy New Year from Bill & Rose Rawles and all our team. Onward and upwards into 2017                                   The post 2016 was …. appeared first on Bill Rawles Classic Cars.

https://www.rawlesclassiccars.co.uk/blog/2016-was/

#Classic Cars #News & Events #2016 #Austin Healey 100S #bill rawles #Car sales #classic cars #events #Happy New Year #healey #Healey Driver International #motorsport #Natters & Nibbles #new workshop #New Year #Racing #Restoration #Sebring #White Dove

[ritacaroline]

Bonz Fan Fiction  Ch. 7

Record Shop Madness   

The next morning, John awoke and looked up, pulling his thoughts together. He started remembering his earth shattering evening he’d spent with Laura. And a huge smile erupted on his face. Then, hoping he hadn’t dreamt the entire thing, he slowly turned to his left and holy hell, there she was, the sleeping angel. Her glorious dark hair with the red highlights glistening in the sun. She was breathing so softly and so quietly, he did not wish to wake her. Instead, he silently slipped away for a quick shower, and then slid back under the covers next to her. 

He absolutely loved the sight of her resting in his bed, right against him. He noticed she was beginning to stretch a little, as she awakened. And she slowly looked straight up to see John’s gentle gaze and soft smile, as he looked at her. She smiled brightly then, and put her arms up to him. He opened up his arms and surrounded her in them, giving the warmest happiest embrace a man could do. They had their heads touching and faces buried in each others hair. She smelled like fresh air and sunshine and he thought he had never been more happy than he was right that moment. To him, she felt small and soft and cuddly and way sexy, all at once. It was a long few moments and an astounding feeling, in that sweet hug. No words were needed. He started kissing the side of her face and at her temple. She was in a state of sheer bliss in his adoring arms.

After they finished with breakfast, they put the dishes in the sink. Bonz explained, “Rick will take care of these while we’re out. He’s the farm hand. He feeds and waters the animals every morning. Takes the horses out for a gallop in case they hadn’t had a long run that day. Brings in the fresh eggs. Also, pops into the house and handles dishes, sometimes washes some laundry so I don’t need to worry about all that stuff. He’s a great help.”

Laura said, “Oh I see. So you really don’t have to handle every little detail yourself afterall then.”

“No, thank God. I couldn’t both play in Led Zepp and also run this entire place with just these two hands.”

“Very understandable,” she agreed. “Good thing Rick is around, to give some help here.”

“Let’s go out and see if you’d like to take a ride on Gingy (pronounced Jin - jee) for a little while. She’s very gentle and wouldn’t dream of letting anything  happen to you. She’s a lovey girl.”

He held her hand, and guided her out to the barn. They headed for the horses, whom seemed anxious to get out. John took both horses out of their stalls and tied them each to the wall connection. He said, “I’ll ride Blaze. He’s used to me and he can sometimes be a little tougher to handle, but I have him figured out. So here, honey, let me help you get on.“  He placed a small wooden step up, next to Ging, and held Laurie’s hand to help her get up there. Gingy was a big full sized tall horse. Nothing dainty about this entire situation. Laura put her foot into the stirrup, and John gave her guidance and a boost upward and over onto Gingy’s back. The saddle felt right and Laurie had the reigns. John easily hopped up and over onto Blaze, a slightly bigger rougher looking boy. His coat was black as midnight and shiny as all hell. Magnificent muscular animal. Gingy was a deep reddish brown color, gloriously beautiful. She also had a shiny and well kept coat, a sign that she was well cared for and enjoyed great health and  nutrition. Such a deep lovely reddish brown. She did seem more gentle than Blaze.  John remarked, “Gingy’s coat looks nice paired with your beautiful hair, darlin. “  He slowly walked Blaze outward and Ging followed right behind, out of the barn. John and Blaze began with a slow gait, out onto the field. Rick was working in the back area of the barn and knew very well to close the stalls and the barn door, after the two rode off with the horses. 

“Have you ridden much before, my love ?” he asked. Laurie said, “Yeah, I have quite a bit, especially when I was a teenager. This sweet horse is really a pleasure, so relaxed and really responsive.” as she petted Gingy’s huge strong neck and mane. “Yes, I know, I agree. My sister Deb used to ride her often, and she’s much more accustomed to being ridden by a woman. She is so dependable and she knows she’s loved.”

“Oh wow, that’s so beautiful, John.” So, as they approached the scenic path, into the beautiful woods, John picked up the pace to a trot, and it started getting more exciting and fun then. Laurie was loving being up so high and trusting the ultra dependable horse.  The two rode for miles throughout the property of John’s farm, which was quite extensive. Laurie watched John on the great black horse and was extremely impressed. He had never looked sexier to her, wearing his boots and his western hat. Said he had gotten it while in Texas a year ago. And holy moly did he look handsome in it. At one point they were riding side by side, close enough to hold hands for awhile. John remarked, “Girl, you are a sight, atop Gingy. Your hair nearly matches hers and, wow, you are a sexy beauty, up there. So graceful, and delicate. You have my heart beating hard at the sight of you.” On the way back to the house, it began to snow. And the picture of the two of them, riding high on the gorgeous horses, as the snow fell delicately around and onto them, was as picturesque as a painting. Both of them chatting and laughing together, holding hands now and then.

Back at the barn, Rick was standing out front of it. They came to a halt and John hopped off Blaze, absolutely effortlessly. He was in some shape. His long legs and his butt were strong and lean and he sure was inspiring to Laurie.

He immediately handed the rope to Rick, then came over to Laurie, and held her by the waist, helping her down safely. Strong as could be. She balanced by holding tightly onto John’s shoulders. As she landed, he hugged her tightly around her waist and gave a quick little kiss to her mouth. Her cheeks were now ruddy from the cool refreshing air. He loved being close to her and as he smiled, his eyes sparkled.  John said to Rick, “This is my girl. Her name is Laurie.  Laurie, this is Rick, he works with the animals here. “  Rick removed his western hat, politely and reached for Laurie’s hand. She took it and they held each other’s hand for a moment and both smiled, sincerely. Rick said, “Pleasure to meet ya, Miss. Did you enjoy the ride, with Miss Gingy, then ?”  Laura answered, “Oh, so nice to meet you as well. And yes, I loved riding with her, she was as sweet as could be, a wonderful girl she is.”

“So good to hear that, Gingy is one in a million, so well behaved and handles like a smooth breeze ! Dontcha Miss Ging ?” As he reached out to pet her mane and rubbed the horses cheek, lovingly.  

John said, “Well, Rick, we’ll be indoors awhile so we’ll see ya later, mate.” 

Next Chap (8) https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/183034871931/bonz-fan-fiction-ch-8 

#John Bonham Fan Fiction John Bonham Fan Fic Bonzo Fan Fiction Bonzo Fan Fic

[wearecylons-blog]

Lux Aeterna

Because writing one fic at a time is way too boring, I’ve come up with another one.

I hope you guys like it!

L xxx

“Dad, I really really need you to do me a favour...“

Bill ran a hand through his hair, took a gulp from his coffee and sighed. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good. Lee didn't usually call him this early on Saturday mornings, not to mention asking any favours of him when he knew his father had taken a week off.

Already dreading the answer, he mumbled into his phone while he put two slices of bread into his toaster. “Lee, what's wrong?”

He heard his son take a deep breath on the other end, then, apparently trying to find the right words, pause for another second. When he finally started to speak again, he himself didn't seem to like what he was about to say. “Well, dad, you know this concert we're having tonight? I've told you about it when we had dinner last week?” Bill nodded curtly, then realised his son couldn't see his reaction and slapped himself on his forehead. Thinking before his first cup of coffee in the morning was not really one of his strengths. “Yup, you told me.” Lee paused again. “The thing is, our bass soloist had an accident this morning and is still in surgery. Nothing life-threatening, but he won't be able to perform tonight. So...” Bill closed his eyes for a moment. He saw where this was going. “So, you need someone to fill in for him because you can't possibly cancel the concert. That's why you're calling me?” “Yeah.”

Now it was Bill's turn to pause and be quiet for a moment. He saw his bubble of a lovely quiet weekend bursting in front of his eyes, the two final days of a week off – that had been filled with trips to museums, visiting friends, buying some art for his flat and lots of reading – which he had wanted to spend looking for new projects and watching some concerts he had missed. As a freelance artist, he appreciated the freedom of choosing what to work on next without being dependent on opera house policies and he didn't mind the craziness of travelling for weeks or having performances every night. But he also loved having some peace and quiet once in a while, which was why he wasn't too happy with what was going on here now.

“Okay, Lee, what is it that you're performing? And how on earth do you think I'll be able to get the preparation of weeks done in a couple of hours?” Lee's voice sounded a bit firmer, a bit more confident, when he replied. “It's Verdi's 'Messa da Requiem', dad. And I know that you can do it because you did it two years ago already, and that was in the Met.” Bill inhaled sharply. He couldn't really bring up any arguments against his son now, especially since this particular performance had been celebrated by media and critics across the country. He grumbled into the phone again. “Son, I still don't do religious stuff very well.”

Lee chuckled, seemingly relieved that his father appeared to have less objections than he had feared. “I know. But you know better than me that you don't have to believe in those lyrics. You're an actor as well, like every other singer is up to a certain point, so whether you believe in the afterlife or the day of judgement is really rather irrelevant. I need you, dad, please.” Bill huffed and put the slices of toast, more burnt than edible, on his plate. “Alright, Lee, I've still got the score somewhere here. But you owe me. When do you want me to be there?” He knew his son was close to jumping around in his flat when he replied. “2 pm for the final rehearsal, the concert is at 8. We have a buffet & plenty of coffee and tea for the soloists as well.” “See you at 2 then,” Bill murmured, being angry with himself for not being able to say no to his son. “Yep. And: thanks, dad! I really appreciate it!”

With a grunt, Bill hung up the phone and looked outside the window. It would be a beautiful sunny day, but he'd be stuck inside. Shaking his head, he reminded himself that he'd actually liked this piece of music despite its religious content. And, apart from that, he hadn't been working with Lee in a while and he was rather looking forward to watching his son at work in his current position as Music & Artistic Director of the Caprica Philharmonic which he seemed to enjoy very much after years of looking for the “perfect” job.

Bill spent the remainder of the morning reading through the score, checking whether his new dark suit was crease-free, and ironing his crisp white dress shirt. Then, after a shower and another shave, he got dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt, packed up his things, left his flat with a last regretful look at the DVDs on his TV waiting to be watched and took a cab to the philharmonic hall. When he arrived there at 1.45 pm, he saw plenty of fellow musicians, carrying instrument cases, scores and suits or dresses draped over their shoulders streaming into the building and joined them.

They were mostly rather young, probably in their twenties, and, being in his late fifties and feeling a little out of place, Bill suddenly realised that he had no idea who the other three soloists were. When they all shuffled over to the concert hall and took their seats among those of the orchestra and the choir who were already there, his eyes fell onto the chairs that had been placed in front of the orchestra and behind the conductors rostra. Only one of them was occupied, judging from the position, apparently by the soprano soloist who seemed deeply absorbed in her score. Bill, trying to determine whether he knew her, moved closer towards her, but she seemed unfamiliar to him. From what he could determine from the distance, she was probably in her forties, slender, had her red hair piled up in a messy bun on top of her head and was wearing black leggings, a dark red tunic and black ballet flats. He placed his things on his chair and, given that there was nothing else to do before the rehearsal started and that he most likely didn't know anyone in the room, walked over to her to introduce himself.

When he was standing right in front of her, she looked up from her score and eyed him over the rims of her glasses with a scrutinising look on her face. He was startled by the green of her eyes which seemed to be looking right through him, taken by the texture of her fair skin and his eyes wandered to her flawlessly painted red lips for a second, but he quickly pushed any thoughts of seeing this woman as anything else than tonight's colleague out of his mind, reminding himself that just because it had been a while, he couldn't simply fancy any woman that came along his way.

The woman put down her score, leaned back in her chair and raised an eyebrow at him. “Can I help you?” she asked with a voice that was both soft and  husky at the same time, something he didn't come across very often – and he was a professional singer after all. He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, I just wanted to introduce myself, I'm filling in for the bass soloist tonight.” Surprisingly enough for him, her stern look changed into one of relief and she gave him a little smile. “Oh, I see. I'm so glad that Lee did actually find someone on such short notice. “

She offered him her right hand and her smile widened a little more, making his heart jump for a moment for which he chastised himself internally. “Laura Roslin.” He accepted her hand with a nod and replied with as much of a smile as he could manage without seeming too eager. “Bill Adama.” Her eyes widened. “Bill Adama? As in, THE Bill Adama, and Lee's father?” Bill couldn't prevent himself from grinning now. “Yep, that would be me,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. Laura Roslin, her hand still wrapped in his, looked rather pleasantly surprised. “How amazing! What a pleasure to meet you!” Before Bill could reply and maybe exchange some more polite formalities to cover that he was deeply confused by this woman's existence, and in a positive way, and maybe also to find out more about her before they would perform together, a noise behind him made him turn around.

Lee had taken his place on the conductors rostra and had tapped the stand with his baton several times. He glanced over to his father and winked at him before he turned back to face the orchestra and the choir who had become quiet by now. “So, people, this is it, our final rehearsal. I hope you're all well-rested, well-fed, well-watered and at least half as scared as I am.” He earned himself several laughs from the artists and grinned at them. Bill couldn't help but look at the woman next to him again who was now scanning the rows of musicians behind her with a thoughtful look on her face. Then Lee continued to address them. “First things first. As you probably have heard, Richard had an accident this morning and won't be able to perform tonight.” The crowd started mumbling, some of them exchanging shocked glances. “But,” Lee interrupted them before they could get into any more conversations,”I've found someone who has agreed to replace him and who has plenty of experience with Verdi, this piece in particular.” He pointed at Bill who suddenly felt very self-aware. “In case you don't know him, Bill Adama – who, yes, also is my father – will be our bass soloist tonight.” A round of enthusiastic applause of people who were more than happy that their performance would be saved filled the hall. Bill smiled at the two hundred or so people and offered them a playful bow. When the applause ceased again, he saw that the other two soloists, who also seemed unknown to him, had arrived in the meantime and, with a last nod and smile at Laura Roslin who, however, seemed occupied with her score again, he moved over to his chair.

Three exhausting hours and a more than disastrous rehearsal later – the orchestra and the choir seemed like they'd never rehearsed together before which had completely messed up all the soloists' entries until Lee had lost his nerves at some point and yelled at all of them – he collapsed on a chair in the backstage area, poured himself some tea and closed his eyes. He knew that final rehearsals were not supposed to go too well so that people would not loosen the tension necessary for a performance, but this was less than ideal. He took several deep breaths and then opened his eyes again. Except for the mezzo-soprano and the tenor, the room was empty, and they also seemed less than happy with the result of the last few hours and were occupying armchairs in the corner of the room, both with their eyes closed and ear plugs in their ears.

With a frown on his face, Bill wondered where Laura – he had started to think of her as Laura, artists were mostly on a first-name basis anyway – had gone. He had been observing her during the rehearsal and had been deeply affected by how she embodied the words she was singing and how she lived the music, not only giving each and every note a special nuance, but it was like she was really consciously feeling what the lyrics meant – words that, to him, were nothing but religious superstition even if they dealt with deeply human fears, death, loss and looking for a being that would guide them through hard times. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that there was something beyond this life and that something would happen after he died, but still, her performance had touched him and he couldn't really put his finger on it.

Laura did, however, not reappear until shortly before they were all supposed to meet outside the concert hall and wait for the signal to come on stage. He had spent the remainder of the time by doing crossword puzzles and doodling on some blank pages he always had with him, anything really that would distract him from having to think about the performance. Standing diagonally opposite Laura outside the large doors now, he was eyeing her from time to time, observing that she looked rather pale and thoughtful, if not sad, but, he admitted to himself, really beautiful in her dark red velvet dress, a shawl the same colour wrapped around her shoulders, wearing black heels that perfectly accentuated her pale, slender legs. Her hair was now falling over her shoulders in soft waves and she had changed her glasses against contact lenses, revealing her stunningly green eyes even more.

He had to drag his eyes away from her to stop wondering why she appeared sorrowful, telling himself that they were mere minutes away from a performance they were by now all anxious to get over with. When the doors to the hall were being opened from the inside, he took a deep breath and looked over to the tenor soloist, a young man called Felix Gaeta whom he had exchanged a few words with, and they smiled at each other reassuringly before they entered the stage next to each other under a hurricane of applause.

The whole performance went by in a blur for him. Despite their catastrophic rehearsal earlier that day, everyone seemed to pull themselves together and orchestra, choir and soloists melted together into a single body of sound. Bill felt himself being carried away by the richness and majesty of the Sanctus, and pierced and shaken by the hopelessly aggressive Dies Irae, the tympani and trumpets vibrating through him throughout almost every choral part of Verdi's opus which he had never experienced this way before. But what shook him most was Laura's performance toward the end of the Requiem, during her solo in Libera Me. She had given a stunningly emotional and vibrant performance throughout all the other parts, but she seemed to fully immerse herself in the words she was bringing to life in those last ten minutes.

Dies irae, dies illa calamitatis et miseriae; dies magna et amara valde.

The day of wrath, that day of calamity and misery; a great and bitter day, indeed.

Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna in die illa tremenda.

Deliver me, Lord, from eternal death on that awful day.

Libera me.

Deliver me.

Laura's facial expression was changing momentarily from one of despair, to pleading, to fear and rage, to, in those last two words which were more a whisper than anything else, deepest hopelessness with which she ended their performance, remaining in a position of looking up to the ceiling, her fingers clutching the music stand in front of her, her mouth still slightly open. Only after a second or two, Bill realised that his breathing had sped up and that his hands were trembling, and looking to his right to Lee on his rostra, he seemed equally affected by the music, hands still in the air, not willing to end it just yet. Bill couldn't tear his eyes away from Laura who still hadn't moved, but seemed to wait for Lee to give the audience the cathartic sign of lowering his hands and the baton.

When he finally did, the concert hall was quiet for another moment, then erupted into applause and standing ovations, giving them all the redemption they had been hoping for since the afternoon. Bill closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. They had done it. Again. Another frightening performance done that left them all shaky and exhausted, but also incredibly fulfilled. Swiftly, he got up from his seat and left the hall through the doors together with the other three soloists and Lee, only to come back again another three times as the audience didn't seem to want it to be over. Every time they entered the stage again, he checked on Laura who looked incredibly worn out and had to fight against the urge to put an arm around her waist. Instead, he patted his son on his shoulder and happily accepted his embrace and his mumbled “Thanks, dad,” before they all took a bow again and then turned around to give a final round of applause for the choir and the orchestra.

This time, when Laura also clapped her hands at hundreds of relieved faces in the back of the hall, she looked more at ease than before, her face slowly breaking into a small smile that tugged at Bill's heart and he told himself to focus on his son again who had put his arm around his shoulder and, while the audience slowly started to make their way out, was grinning at him with the expression of an artists whose wildest dreams had just come true. Bill, not caring whether there were other people around them, pinched his son's cheek and moved over to whisper in his ear. “I'm proud of you, son. Now, let's get out of here and celebrate you.” Lee's grin became even wider and he was suddenly encircled by a bunch of musicians who wanted to thank him as well. Bill mouthed him that he'd see him later and motioned to his seat to gather his things.

When he had picked up his score, water bottle and a bag with pastilles, he turned around again and, to his surprise, found Laura still packing up her things at a glacial pace. Bill pinched his nose and was unsure of whether to move over and ask her whether she'd also join them for drinks now, but in that moment, she looked up and found his eyes. Despite still looking exhausted – which, he reminded himself, they all were, he didn't have to worry about a grown up woman he didn't even know – a smile lit up her face and, after she had gathered her stuff, she came over to him. “You truly are a talent, you do know that, right, Mr Adama?” Bill smiled back at her, not even trying to hide that her saying this meant a lot to him. “Right back at you! And please, call me Bill, otherwise I feel so old.”

To his great surprise, she suddenly started giggling. “Oh Gods, I thought I was the only one feeling too old with all these kids here. Okay, Bill it is then. Laura.” Bill looked at her with a mixture of amusement and indignation on his face. “I won't get into a discussion on how much older I am than you are, but how about you and I join these kids in the bar for drinks now?” Laura looked into his eyes and he felt himself being drawn into their green depths. Then she smiled at him again and, with a twinkle in her eye, she replied. “The night is young, so, sure. I thought it's obligatory anyway to keep an eye on these kids.” With that, she turned towards the door, tucked her arm under his and led him towards the backstage area, causing Bill to marvel at how professional she was at regulating her emotions. And causing him to long to know more about this enigmatic woman, hoping that the evening would illuminate him a little more.

#AU fic #spaceparents fic #Laura Roslin #Bill Adama #Lux Aeterna #Battlestar Galactica

[itssiennatheasian]

Art History: Harlem Renaissance

"Sometimes I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can anyone deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It's beyond me." — Zora Neale Hurston

Getting Religion by Archibald Motley

We are artists. Illustrators. Graphic designers.

Art unites us all, with an array of styles as diverse and unique as our heritage.

In this next part of our Art History series, we turn to the Harlem Renaissance, a 20th-century cultural and creative movement giving African Americans the platform to voice their stories through several artistic mediums.

The Harlem Renaissance

What if you were free?

Art is a humbling reminder of history. Though they were considered free, African Americans waited for a new life outside the borders of southern racist ideologies after the American Civil War. 

In turn, a new wave of dreamers migrated to the west, midwest, and northeastern US states in hopes of economic stability.

Migration Series Panel by Jacob Lawrence

As the years progressed, the families of these great migrators gave way to the stunning artists and intellectuals of the 1920s. Today we honor a few of their legacies by taking a look at their incredible styles.

Sculptors

Her sculpture of President Franklin D. Roosevelt inspired the dime. Selma Burke was an extraordinary American sculptor whose sculptures influenced many during the Harlem Renaissance. Her style consisted of remarkable busts and wooden sculptures of maternal subjects. 

Roosevelt Plaque by Selma Burke

Similarly to Selma, artist Augusta Savage created small clay sculptures of animals as a child. Even early on, her work was impressive. She later went on to create realistic busts of several notable figures during the Harlem Renaissance like W.E.B. Du Bois and more.

Sculpture by Augusta Savage

Painters

Laura Wheeler Waring was an African-American artist and educator for more than 30 years. She specialized in textural oil paintings of unknown African Americans and notable Harlem Renaissance figures.

This portrait of civil rights activist W.E.B. Du Bois landed her major recognition within the movement. In turn, she went on to create many more portraits of important leaders and activists.

W.E.B. Du Bois by Laura Wheeler Waring

Initially, her life as an educator slowed down her personal work, but she later used her love of travel to discover new artistic interests.  

For artists, the Harlem Renaissance gave way to new expressions of African-American life.

Anne Washington Derry by Laura Wheeler Waring

In the Migration Series (at the top of this post), artist Jacob Lawrence depicted colorful portrayals of the Great Migration. He used flat visuals and bright colors to abstract the material as a result of his influence of Mexican muralism.

Jacob Lawrence

Illustrators & Muralists

While the Harlem Renaissance is believed to have disappeared during the late 1930s, its influence would affect generations of black and brown artists to come.

These artists explored minimalist and abstract elements in their work, influenced by Pablo Picasso and others. Many even attributed Cubism to their early inspiration for working in design.

Early on in her career, graphic artist Elizabeth Catlett crafted wooden sculptures depicting the female experience. Her work revolved around Afrocentric themes which explored the human condition.

Sharecropper by Elizabeth Catlett

But if you were a designer during the 1930s then perhaps Aaron Douglas would have inspired you.

His work showcased a unique abstract style. Painting silhouettes of African American men and women, he communicated scenes of social life and struggle.

Aspiration by Aaron Douglas

For our last artist, we'll take a look at the extraordinary work of Charles Alston. An illustrator, painter, and sculptor, Charles contributed greatly to the rise of the modernist art styles in African-American work during this time.

His illustrations were usually of presidents, musicians, and prominent activists, but he also explored many other mediums in an effort to improve his skills.

Carter Woodson by Charles Alston

Conclusion

Though the movement came and went as a result of the Great Depression, the Harlem Renaissance continues to be an inspiration for artists even today. Its wide range of culture and influence is a true testament to the evolution of art. And I hope you continue to learn more about these amazing timelines on your own.

For more stories from the Harlem Renaissance, dive into the links below for further reading. And join me next month when we discuss Cubism.

The Harlem Renaissance

Harlem Renaissance: Art of Black America

The Harlem Renaissance: A Very Short Introduction

The following sources were also included in this article:

Wikipedia: Harlem Renaissance

Biography: Aaron Douglas

Britannica: Harlem Renaissance

from Envato Tuts+ Design & Illustration http://ift.tt/2xWJut8 via http://ift.tt/1dVCCOJ

#Envato Tuts+ Design & Illustration

[ccorinnef]

Corinne's Cuppa: August

Welcome to a new monthly blog piece called ‘Corinne’s Cuppa’ where I will share some of my favourite things from throughout the month! These will be absolutely anything from books, plants and food to music, ideas and art. I don’t know about you but I love hearing what other people are passionate about - and getting recommendations for things to try. I hope you enjoy reading these!

Adventure

At the start of this month I travelled to Denmark to visit my friend. It was only a short trip - 4 days - but I had an amazing time exploring the area around Næstved and Copenhagen. Denmark is such a beautiful country best defined by golden fields and red bricks. The seaside at Karrebæksminde was wonderfully summery - I really enjoyed it since I hadn’t had a chance to go to the seaside in a while. We explored Faxe Quarry where all the rocks are made of fossilised coral - on our tour someone found a crocodile tooth! The castle of Gavnø housed the largest private art collection in Scandinavia. There was a series of portrait paintings of some of the most influencial thinkers, writers and politicians of the 1500s and 1600s. In Copenhagen my top three absolute favourites were Nyhavn, The National Gallery of Denmark (SMK) and Plant Food Power restaurant.

Books

I’ve read quite a few books this August but I think my favourite read was Homo Deus by Yuval Noah Harari. This incredible sequel to Homo Sapiens, explores the possibilities of the future of humanity with all of our technological advances, recent and future. Homo Deus investigates how the human ability to believe and create myths will interact with the possibilities of intelligent design, of which some are already in effect. It raises questions such as: How will life change when algorithms know us better than we do? How will religious beliefs evolve with new everyday realities? How will we keep ourselves occupied when computers take over the job market? For anyone who enjoys philosophy, anthropology or futurism this book is a must read!

Movement

This month Colin and I have been experimenting with our daily routine. We both crave routine to calm and manage our mental health. In order to grow as individuals, though, it is important that we play around and try different tasks and orders so that we can figure out what works best for us. The thing that I have loved to include in my morning routine for a few years now is some form of movement. I tend wake up around 6am (usually before my alarm even goes off, I guess its just my natural body clock) and the first thing I like to tick off my list is my movement - it’s not just for physical health, its for my mental wellbeing too. I used to run when I was in school and uni; most of this year I’ve practiced yoga. August has seen me attempt to start running again, put far too much pressure on myself, get overwhelmed, injure my knee and not do anything. So for the past couple of weeks, Colin and I have both gotten up and walked Buddy together before he needs to get ready for work. I have been loving it. I think for my overall health - mental and physical - I just need to do some form of gentle movement in the morning. And walking has the added benefits of Buddy being content for the day and myself getting some fresh air.

Home

I don’t know about you but the summer heatwave was harsh for my family. Colin and I are far too Scottish for intense heat - which we define as anything over 20°C! Buddy was also struggling with the temperature due to his incredibly thick, mostly black, fur. By the end of July, I had had enough of being constantly warm so I ordered a tower fan from Homebase. OH MY GOD it was beautiful! The ability to cool down was a blessing and Buddy quickly learned to lie in front of it for best cooling results. It was nothing fancy or expensive but it saved our summer (and our sleep)!

Netflix

After my trip to Denmark, I discovered Queen of the South on Netflix. It’s an American crime drama series starring Alice Braga in the lead role. Her character, Teresa Mendoza, must rely on her intelligence and sheer determination to survive after her drug cartel boyfriend is murdered and she is forced to flee Mexico to America. This series, based on a book of the same name, highlights the struggle between making ethically tough decisions to survive and retaining enough moral integrity to accept yourself. An incredible series, it is often brutal and graphic, but very addictive.

Art

I have recently discovered that estate agents take fantastic pictures of houses to use as reference images for drawing. I have been enjoying drawing houses and buildings in my sketchbook of a morning. I like to keep the drawings very simple with a focus on lines to create texture. I start by using pencil to build up the shapes of squares and rectangles that make up most buildings. I don’t have completely straight freehand lines but I kind of like the almost story-book effect it gives the drawings.

Music

A project which I discovered this month and absolutely love is ‘Sounds like Van Spirit.’ It is a collection of the best of Europe’s street musicians as recorded by German sound engineer Marten Berger. He started by converting a van into a mobile recording studio and then over the course of two years he travelled Europe to record the musicians he found along the way. The project has an album, a book and a movie as the finished pieces but there is a playlist on YouTube of some of the musicians which is incredible to listen to. Europe is such a comparatively small continent but the immense amount of diversity and unique talent which can be found is astounding.

Podcast

‘Don’t Salt My Game’ is one of my absolute favourite podcasts to listen to. The podcast is hosted by Dr Laura Thomas (PhD), a registered nutritionist who specialises in Intuitive Eating, Health at Every Size & Non-Diet Nutrition. Her podcast features interviews with a range of guests from authors to scientists to mental health advocates where they discuss honest realities and personal experiences. I’ve listened to her podcast almost everyday on my morning walks with Buddy for a few months and I’m still nowhere near caught up!

Nature

I have taken immense pleasure this month in watching the bees go about their business. While on walks I like to ‘spot the bee’ and can quite easily become distracted by following bees as they explore from flower to flower. In my garden, I have a little shelter which I think is actually meant to be a birdhouse but it has been taken over by some bees who like to rest in there during the day. Bees are so important for the health of our planet and being able to see them living and flourishing in all the wildflowers both in and out of my garden fills me with hope. They’re such hard workers and I hope they know that they are appreciated!

App

An app for my phone which I have discovered this August is called ‘Boosted’. It is essentially a kind of timesheet app which I find incredibly useful in keeping track of my work hours. There’s two things that I love about the design of this app. The first is that you can add different projects and different tasks within each project and then track the hours you spend just on that task. The second is that the app then takes all of the data from your recorded hours working on different projects and creates graphs and charts to help you visualise where your time is going. Maybe I’m just a nerd for things like this but it’s just really satisfying to see the proportions of work you’re doing in a pie chart or a graph of my week. It helps me to feel like I’m accomplishing something with my time and business - especially since a lot of my ‘work’ doesn’t actually feel like work because I enjoy doing it so much!

#book #Corinne's Cuppa #favourite #august #Artist #lifestyle #my life #recommendations #bees #nature #photography