#he looks so happy and san always looks so curious george | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diazevan · 3 years

Text

I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside

Christopher refuses to sleep until he knows Eddie (and Buck) are safe.

Christopher Diaz Week, Day 1: Chris in the Future + "I don't do that anymore!"

Read on AO3

2019

Christopher wouldn’t sleep.

He kept his eyes open, looking at the ceiling as he wiggled his toes under the covers.

He wouldn’t close his eyes and head for his dreams until he heard his dad come home from work.

Pepa read him a bedtime story, tucked him in, kissed his forehead, and then left; Christopher squeezed his eyes shut, playing pretend. He knew he’d get told off if she knew he was awake, he had school in the morning and he would probably spend the day yawning, but he didn’t care.

He had to make sure that his dad was safe; he fought fires and saved people who were in trouble, but sometimes he got scratches or bruises.

Christopher didn’t like that. He hated it.

He knew that it was dangerous, but it was better than the army. Back then, his dad would be gone for months and they could only talk on camera. Now, his dad would come home almost every day which was fun. Still, Christopher wished that he didn’t get hurt.

His dad wasn’t the only one that he worried about. Buck was a firefighter, and Christopher’s best friend – not his dad’s best friend, people kept saying that, but Christopher was Buck’s number one best friend, and his dad was Buck’s second.

Buck had been hurt the worst when he got crushed under a firetruck; Christopher hugged him extra tight after that, and he was scared that his dad could get hurt like that.

When the tsunami happened, Christopher knew that Buck was a real-life superhero. Like Christopher’s dad was.

Christopher hugged his Curious George plushie under his arm as he darted his eyes around the bedroom; it was dark, but there was light in the corridor that came through under his closed door.

He snapped his eyes shut when he heard the front door open, “Tía.” Eddie sang, with a tired voice, “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem, Eddie,” She said, “You know it isn’t.”

“How was he?”

“An angel, like always,” She replied, “What happened to your face?”

“It’s soot,” He told her, “Buck and I—it’s a long story.”

“Everything good?”

“Buck’s broke his nose,” Eddie sighed, “But not on the call.”

“Oh, that boy.”

“He’s Buck.”

“Well, you send him my best,” She told him, “I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Bye.”

The front door closed as Pepa left.

Christopher pulled the covers up, turning his face away from his bedroom door as his dad pushed it open.

“Christopher…” Eddie whispered, “Hey, buddy, I know you’re awake.”

Christopher spun his head, opening his eyes, “How?”

“Because I’m your dad,” He skipped over, kneeling by the side of the bed, “And I know you too well.” He held up his finger, bopping his nose, “You should be asleep.”

“I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay,” Eddie sang with a laugh, “Were you waiting for me to get home?”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” He asked, combing his hand back through Christopher’s hair.

“I do, but sometimes—” He paused, “Sometimes I fall asleep.”

His dad grinned, wide, “That’s okay.” He stepped up kissing his forehead, “I’m home, buddy, you can go to sleep.”

“Is Buck okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie snorted, “He’s fine, just an idiot.”

“How’d he break his nose?”

“He slipped…” He told him, “In the shower.”

Christopher couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“Buck is very good at his job,” Eddie explained, “But everything else, he has two left feet.”

Christopher teased loudly, “Like when you cook!”

His dad dropped his mouth open, “Hey!” He shook his head, “Get some sleep, Superman.”

“Night, Dad.”

“Night, Buddy.”

2026

Christopher was sitting at the dining table going through pamphlets about college. They were held together in a folder labelled in red ink; Christopher Diaz-Buckley.

He yawned as he leaned his head back; since entering his sophomore year, he was super tired, all the time.

Whenever he woke from a nap or starting falling asleep in front of the television, he was teased by his dad and Buck; Auntie Hen was right, since Christopher’s dad and Buck started dating, they were more annoying.

They’d been dating for six years, married for three; Christopher was happy, and he loved Buck, but sometimes they were the world’s most embarrassing parents.

“What are we looking at, hey?” Carla asked, reaching for a pamphlet, “San Antonio?”

“I spoke to them today—” He paused to look up at her, “And Orange Coast.”

Carla perched on the seat beside him, “Any favourites?”

He shook his head, “Nope.”

“That’s okay, honey,” She smiled, “You don’t have to choose yet, you’ve got over a year before you do.”

“I know.”

“You still wanna be a teaching assistant?”

“Yeah. I love school, and I wanna help kids like me.” He relaxed in his seat, “Teachers are like first responders, they are heroes too, right?”

“They are.”

Christopher yawned again.

Carla asked, “You think it’s time to call it a night?”

He answered immediately, “No.”

Carla gazed at her phone, “It’s half eleven.”

“I don’t have to go to bed until midnight.”

“Are you waiting for them to get home?” She asked softly, as she crossed her arms, “So, you know they’re safe?”

Christopher stood up, “I don’t do that anymore!” He defended as he headed into the lounge to sit on the couch.

Carla hummed a laugh, “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Christopher did wait.

He was scared that one day he’d wait and one of them wouldn’t come home or worse, neither of them.

He couldn’t lose his dad, he needed him; Buck had gone from being his best friend to his second dad, and that made sleeping even harder.

Christopher rested his legs on the coffee table, sighing heavily as he laid hands across his lap; he reached for the remote, turning on the television, letting it play reruns of Family Guy while he cast his eyes to the window.

His parents did get hurt; scrapes, bruises, and broken bones, but for six years, nothing too bad had happened. Only a couple of nights spent at the hospital.

Still, Christopher liked to know they were safe, even if that meant he pretended to be asleep, every once in a while.

Carla parked herself beside him, “You okay, honey?”

Christopher lifted his head, “Can I live at home when I go to college?”

“Yes, of course, you can,” She said, “As long as it isn’t too far away.”

“Cool.”

“Why do you ask?”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, “Gotta make sure Dad and Pa are okay.”

Carla lowered her head as she laughed, reaching up her hand to run it through his hair, “I know you do.”

“Maybe we could get them to retire!”

“Cheeky.” She nudged his arm, “Your dad is thirty-eight and Buck is only thirty-four!”

“Super old.”

She dropped her jaw, “I’m older than them!”

Christopher added, “But you don’t look it!”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” She smiled, “You know that Buck wants to be Captain one day when Bobby retires—”

Christopher sighed a long breath, “I know.”

“You think he’ll make a good Captain?”

“Yeah. The best.”

She asked, “Then what’s with the long face?”

He muttered, “Want them to be safe.”

“I know you do.” Carla nodded along, “But they look after one another, out there, you know that.”

“They do.”

“And they do everything they can to come home to you,” She soothed her tone, “Who wouldn’t?”

“Thank you, Carla.”

“No problem, baby.” She got up onto her feet, “I’ve just gotta phone home.”

“Okay.”

She moved away towards the kitchen.

Christopher stared at the television, fidgeting the buttons on his pyjamas.

When he heard the key in the door, and the familiar voices of his parents outside, he jumped to his feet, running directly to the door.

Buck was the first to step through, and before he could even make it through the door, Christopher locked himself around him, “Hey, Superman!”

“Hey, Pa.”

Christopher’s dad stepped inside as he joked, “Oh, here we go, with the obvious favouritism.”

“I’m the best hugger in this family,” Buck shrugged, “And since Chris is almost taller than you now—”

“No.” Eddie said sternly, “He isn’t.”

“I am!” Christopher moved, hugging his dad, side-on, “Hi.”

“Hey, kiddo.” His dad, tapped his back, “Were you waiting for us?”

Christopher nodded, “Yeah.”

He didn’t need to hide it, they understood, and with them, safe inside, Christopher could sleep easy.

#911 #911 fanfiction #chrisdiazweek2021 #christopher diaz #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fanfiction #buddie #liberty writes #911onfox

42 notes · View notes

chiaki-translation · 4 years

Text

Luminous Circus: Event Translation Ch3-4

For the sake of Kazu, I really wanted to read the event story for Luminous Circus, but I found out that there’s only 2 chapters available in the wiki. Sooooooo, what else to do but translate the story myself? I’m not sure that I will translate the entire play especially if it’s long, but I’m determined to translate the event story at least. Can I make it before Kazu’s birthday? Idk but I’ll try~ (Oh yeah, if this story has actually been translated, can someone tell me? Thank you~)

Ch3-4 / / Ch5-6 / / Ch7-8 / / Ch9-10 / / Epilogue

You can take a look at the first two chapters here in the wiki, and my translation will be below the cut, enjoy~

https://yaycupcake.com/a3/index.php?title=The_Luminous_Circus

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber Entertainment

Homare’s Grandfather:

You can do anything you want with this room.

You said you need a study right?

Homare’s Grandmother:

If it’s Haiku I can make it while I’m walking.

I don’t need such a big study for that.

For example, one that I made recently…

Homare’s Grandfather:

Fu, I thought it would make you happy, you don’t really like gathering for party or tea right?

I just thought that you need a place to be by yourself.

Homare’s Grandmother:

…It’s not my fault that I can’t make anything.

Let me use the place then.

Homare’s Grandfather:

What should we put here?

How about a Mahogany desk by the window.

We can get shelf from the store, and you can line up your favourite books there.

You can also place your favourite rose over there.

Homare’s Grandmother:

No. With that painting…

I’m good with a table set to have tea with you.

Homare’s Grandfather:

I see.

Then, let’s do as you wish.

Homare’s Grandmother:

…

Homare:

Grandmother, do you want some tea.

Homare’ Grandmother:

With pleasure.

Homare:

I always thought about it, but this place is very bleak and monotonous.

How about adding a bit more interior?

Homare’s Grandmother:

…. Fu.

Homare:

Grandmother?

Homare’s Grandmother:

We’re planning to have reinforcement work here soon.

It’s an old building, so I’ve been worried that it’s going to be blown away when typhoon came.

It seems that a big typhoon is approaching too…

I’ll leave the interior to you.

You can do anything you want.

Homare:

--Yes! I’ll make sure it has the calm and meaningful atmosphere that grandmother likes.

Homare’s Grandmother:

There’s only one thing… I want this painting to be put here as it is now.

Homare:

Ah, it’s always displayed over here.

Homare’s Grandmother:

It’s my treasure.

Homare:

Grandmother’s…

Homare’s Grandmother:

You looked surprised.

Homare:

Ah, nothing—

Who’s the name of the painter?

Homare’s Grandmother:

He’s not that famous.

That’s why, I can’t recall anything about him.

Homare:

Then, --

Homare’s Grandmother:

…

By the way, is that pocket watch still moving?

Homare:

Eh, yeah, of course.

I’ve gotten it taken care of in an excellent repair shop.

Tasuku:

Is Arisugawa inside?

Hisoka:

…He’s staying over at his family’s home today.

Tasuku:

Then, please pass this back to Arisugawa.

Hisoka:

…The pocket watch, is it fixed?

Tasuku:

For now, but the parts are getting worn out, I think it will break soon.

The parts are not available anymore, it’s really reaching the end of its lifespan.

Handle it carefully.

If it’s subjected to shock, you’ll shorten its lifespan even more.

Hisoka:

…Understood.

Tasuku:

About Arisugawa’s grandmother’s condition…

Hisoka:

Tasuku:

Nothing—There’s a message inside of that pocket watch right.

It said, “To the mechanical you, with love. Sakae.”

When I look at that earlier, I’m somehow reminded of Arisugawa’s grandfather and grandmother. I’m just a bit curious.

Hisoka:

…Why not try and LIME Alice.

Tasuku:

Me, out of the blue? That would be weird isn’t it.

Hisoka:

Whoever it is, anyone would be happy if someone else expresses concern for their family.

Tasuku:

…I see. I guess so.

Hisoka:

…Zzzzzzz

Tasuku:

Don’t sleep while you’re still holding the pocket watch!

You’ll drop it!

Sigh… And I thought you said something decent for once.

Director:

That was so interesting!

As Tenma-kun said, the circus scene was so powerful!

Kazunari:

The overall color was so psychedelic it’s interesting~!

Tsumugi:

The unique world view was pretty interesting too.

Sakuya:

I’ve never seen a circus before and I can’t imagine it by just reading the book, but…

After watching the movie, I thought it’s really great!

It’s like I’m sucked into the world of dream and imagination.

When I saw the audiences, who seemed to be having so much fun inside the dream world, I can’t help to think that circus is such a great thing!

Kazunari:

You know, Sumi had a part time job in a circus before.

Sakuya:

Eh!? Really!?

Tsumugi:

That part time job really fits Misumi-kun.

Sakuya:

That’s so nice~ I also want to try it.

But I don’t have athletic capabilities and reflexes like Misumi-san so it’s probably impossible for me.

Tsumugi:

Even if you’re not the performer, there might be jobs available behind the scene isn’t it.

Kazunari:

A clown for example, it doesn’t seem that they would ask for high athletic capabilities for that.

Let’s go ask Sumi about it!

Sakuya:

Right. Let’s go!

Director:

Eh, there’s a car parked in front of the dorm.

Kazunari:

Woah, isn’t that Rolls Royce!

Sakuya:

Eh! That is!?

It’s my first time seeing it.

Tsumugi:

It’s such a luxurious car.

Homare:

…

Director:

Homare-san!?

Homare:

Oh, is everyone going out.

Tsumugi:

We just came back from a movie.

Homare:

I see.

Oh yeah, Kazunari-kun.

I have something to consult to you about.

Kazunari:

Consult?

Homare:

Yeah. Actually, there’s a room that’s going to be refurbished in my family home and there’s a painting I want to decorate the room with.

For my grandmother’s sake, I want to decorate the room to her liking, so I wonder if you can draw just one piece for me.

Kazunari:

Me!?

Rather than me, isn’t is better to ask a more famous painter or something?

Homare:

My grandmother is not someone who cares about that kind of things.

In addition, even though you have no name right now, I’m certain that you are the one person I can count on to be a well-known painter one day.

Kazunari:

Aririn…

Homare:

So, let’s do a collaboration, that painting by you, who have such a promising future, and my poem!

Kazunari:

Collab!?

That sounds great! I’m looking forward to it!

Director:

A collab between Homare-san’s poem and traditional Japanese painting, what kind of wind is brewing over here I wonder…?

Tsumugi:

Umm… I can’t really imagine it, but if it’s Homare-san’s grandmother, maybe she’ll be happy about it.

Kazunari:

I kinda want to see the image of the room that you’re going to decorate, so is it okay for me to visit Aririn’s family home?

Homare:

Of course!

Tenma:

The wind is pretty strong tonight.

Tsumugi:

Looking at the path of the typhoon, it’s going to be a direct hit.

Banri:

It seems that we won’t be able to go out tomorrow.

Director:

Everyone, let’s begin the leader’s meeting.

Today, I was thinking that we should discuss our third Mixed Play performance.

Tsuzuru:

Ah, can I say something.

Director:

Yeah.

Tsuzuru:

I’ve drafted out a few plots that we can use this time, we can see if there’s anything we can use from these.

Tenma:

…There’re really a lot.

Tsumugi:

This story about animal’s banquet, sounds pretty novel.

Director:

It’s a play where everyone needs to dress up as kigurumi for the performance.

Tsumugi:

But it’s something that requires a different technique compared to the usual performance, it might be quite rewarding at the end.

Banri:

Wait, do you even need the technique to perform in a kigurumi!?

Sakuya:

This story of Tengu too, seems to have different atmosphere than usual, sounds interesting!

Tsumugi:

You’re right, we don’t have things like that before.

Tenma:

This, are we all going to wear mask?

Banri:

I would hate trying to sell this idea to Azami.

Tsumugi:

Isn’t it okay if we go for mask-like make up.

Tenma:

Why this problem?

Tsuzuru:

At this point, I haven’t thought whether all of these ideas can be realized, there’re quite a lot of problems huh~

Director:

Tsuzuru-kun, do you have anything you want to write among these ideas?

Tsuzuru:

Hmm, the one that I have most ideas for the plot will be this circus one over here.

Director:

(It’s a fairytale like story about a struggling circus group with a tinge of fantasy on the stage…)

Sakuya:

Woah, it’s a wonderful story!

I just watched a circus themed movie earlier, and I thought there’re really a lot of dreams presented in the circus--

Tsuzuru:

If that’s the case, do you want to do it, Sakuya?

Sakuya:

Is it alright!?

Tenma:

If you’re thinking about the characters, Sakuya might become the clown or the trapeze artist.

Director:

The lead, the circus troupe leader, George, I wonder who will be a good fit for him?

Tsuzuru:

Ah, actually, I have someone in mind—

*lights out*

Tenma:

Wh, wha wha wha wha wha wha what!?

Tsumugi:

A blackout?

Banri:

I’ll use the smartphone light for now.

Sakuya:

*accidentally bump into Tenma*

Ouch!

Tenma:

Wh, who who who who who’s there!

Sakuya:

So, sorry, it seems I accidentally bumped into you--

Banri:

Don’t move. I’ll turn on the lights now.

Ouch!

Tenma:

Wha, what is it this time!

Banri:

That’s, just my leg.

Tsumugi:

Tenma-kun, calm down.

*lights on*

Director:

Ah, the light’s back.

Tenma:

Fuh, don’t surprised me like that.

Tsumugi:

Tenma-kun, why are you against the wall?

Tenma:

I, It’s just a mistake!

Director:

I wonder if the other places are fine?

Anyway, let’s just conclude the meeting for now.

Sakuya:

I’ll go and see the breaker!

Tsumugi:

I’ll go with you.

Tenma:

In that case, me too--

Banri:

You better stop right there.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! mixed play #a3! translation #homare arisugawa #kazunari miyoshi #sakuya sakuma #sakisaka muku

31 notes · View notes

in-class-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Blue Star | Oikawa x Reader | Ch. 2

cr- Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

- Word Count: ~ 2600

- Genres: Fluff, angst, Ushijima doesn’t know what a meme is

- CW: Mild swearing, and sexual implications/content

- Summary: Sometimes, (Y/N) wonders if it was hard for her father to send her away. To a new prefecture, a new home, a new school. It all just might be worth it when after becoming the (suspiciously knowledgeable) manager of the Aoba Johsai boys’ volleyball club, she meets Oikawa Tooru. Together, they do their best to exorcise demons they thought would never leave. They learn about progress, when to strive for it, and when to accept the realities that cannot be changed.

Chapters: First | Previous | Next (coming soon!)

“Then what character would Oikawa be?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I’d be Togami!”

“Shut up, you’re not hot enough to be Togami.”

Oikawa looked at (Y/N), horrified. He nudged Iwaizumi to the side, forcing the

shorter boy to share half his desk chair. Bracing his forearms on the desk, he asked, “(Y/N)-chan, that’s what you like? The nerdy asshole type is what gets you?”

“Byakuya is a fine anime boy, change my mind,” (Y/N) said, crossing her arms.

“That doesn’t answer my question!”

Iwaizumi nodded along, “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Iwa-chan!”

“Oikawa, gives me strong Monobear vibes,” she added.

“I see it,” Iwaizumi agreed.

As the classroom filled up, (Y/N) was getting more and more uneasy. Lately, Oikawa hung around her and Iwaizumi’s desks to chat and hang out before class started. During lunch, the three of them sat in the classroom together and watched anime on (Y/N)’s phone. Ya girl had Runchykroll Premium like a bad bitch, she doesn’t go with the standard membership. She doesn’t speak broke.

Today, though, it felt like people kept looking at her. She was used to getting side-eye at her old school, but it was weird to be getting it at a new school where she hadn’t done anything to draw attention to herself. At least, as far as she knew.

She noticed some girls off to her left openly staring at her, she raised a questioning eyebrow, to which they quickly turned away and frantically whispered among themselves.

“I, uh,” (Y/N) mumbled, “I’m gonna go pee.”

“Have fun,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

“Uh huh.”

(Y/N) got up out of her seat, uncomfortably aware of the eyes watching her every move. Even walking down the hallway, groups of students stopped their conversations to gawk at her.

When she finally made it to the bathroom, she let out a soft sigh of relief.

‘Well, that was weird,’ she thought.

She turned the sink to its coldest setting, leaning forward to splash some on her face. Behind her, she heard the bathroom door open behind her, though she thought nothing of it.

Straightening up, she saw three girls in the mirror, glaring back at her. The four of them stared at each other for a bit, waiting for the other to say something.

‘Dammit, I’m in a kdrama and I’m a poor laundry girl and these are my bullies and I’m gonna have to get with some rich asshole with a bad perm,’ (Y/N) wanted to cry in frustration.

Just one day. Couldn’t she get just one day where people minded their own business instead of getting all up in hers?

(Y/N) turned around to face the group, faking a smile and moving to shuffle past them. The bigger girl on the side shoved her backwards, making her stumble a little.

“What’s your problem?” she asked, annoyed.

“What’s your relationship with Oikawa-san?” the one on the left demanded.

‘Oh boy, I really am in a kdrama. Or a teen movie. Do I have to be the Lindsay Lohan of this movie? Wait, no, I wanna be Regina George. Wait, shit, she gets hit by a bus. Ooh, actually, maybe I do wanna be Regina George.’

“Nonexistent, I guess?” (Y/N) shrugged, “I’m gonna go.”

“Not so fast!” the one in the middle said. She seemed to be the leader, with natural-looking dyed red hair, though you could see the brown roots beginning to grow out. Trifling Bitch had a slim figure, and stood taller than (Y/N) herself.

“We’re not done talking to you,” Bad Dyejob Regina George glowered.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. After everything that happened at her old school, her bullshit tolerance had gone up. The thing was, she was getting her first weeks of peace in a long time, and she’d be damned if she loses it because of Oikawa and his fangirls.

She pursed her lips, “Yeah, well, I’m done talking to you, so I’m gonna walk out of here, and you’re gonna make it easy for me to leave.”

Making her way towards the door, she maintained eye contact with the giantess on the right, daring her to touch her again.

“Don’t think you and Oikawa-san are on the same level just because he took the train home with you,” Annoying Beanpole called after her.

‘How would she--?’ the train is usually empty around the time she and Oikawa are on it, ‘Except…’ She remembered those two girls wearing the same uniform as her. Glances were typical, when she was with Oikawa, but in hindsight, those two were looking over much more than the average fangirl.

‘Of fucking course.’

“We’re just here to warn you that you’re not worth his time,” Completely Irrelevant finished, smiling as if she’d won.

“Whatever makes your life better, girlfriend,” (Y/N) dismissed.

Getting-On-Her-Last-Nerve put her hands on her hips, “I’m serious! Stay away from Oikawa-san, or else!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “I’m shaking.”

With that, she shoved past them and stalked through the door.

No way. No way she was doing this again. Things had gotten so bad at her old school, she got shipped off into the next prefecture just so she could make it through the year. There was no way in hell that she’d go through that again so she can hang out with Oikawa.

Whenever she had the time, she could study with Wakatoshi, or she could spend time with Iwaizumi when Oikawa wasn’t around. Either way, she wasn’t about to sacrifice her peace for anyone. Not even him.

Sliding back into her seat, she caught the tail end of their conversation, “--can’t today. My grandmother has grocery shopping to do, and I always go with her.”

“You’re everyone’s dream grandson, aren’t you, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa turned to her, “Come get food with me after practice?”

After what just happened in the bathroom, (Y/N) was inclined to say no, but those big doe eyes and enthusiastic smile were making it difficult.

‘Crap. You’re gonna make me fall for you, and you won’t even feel sorry for it, will you?’

“You’re not coming, Hajime?”

The tanned boy shook his head, “Not today. My grandmother needs me to carry the groceries.”

“M’kay, we can get breakfast in the morning, if you’re free?” she offered.

The two boys in front of her gave their agreements.

“But you’ll still get food with me today, right?”

“We’re already getting breakfast in the morning, why do you--”

“But I’m craving milkshakes now,” he whined.

(Y/N) frowned, “I thought you were lactose intolerant?”

“I am, but I’m not a weak bitch. Also, ever heard of lactose pills?”

Iwaizumi facepalmed. (Y/N) sighed, wondering how she ended up associated with this type of person.

‘Oh my god, I can’t believe this boy,’ she thought. Then she remembered that little exchange in the bathroom, and how those three girls were completely happy ordering her around. Backing down, acting like she never met Oikawa, it would be easy on her, sure. She stole a glance at him and his big, dumb smile and his stupid brown curls. (Y/N) thought about how nice it was to have him and Iwaizumi as friends and how happy going home from school with Oikawa made her.

‘Fuck it. Fuck you and your mean girl stereotype and the fact that you think you can order me around. I know what my own personal hell looks like. I’ve been there. So now? I’m going to do whatever I want, whether you like it or not.’

“Alright, fine,” she sighed while Oikawa cheered in victory.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into with him,” Iwaizumi said.

(Y/N) sighed, “I hope so too.”

“Wouldn’t Hajime look good with a nose piercing?” (Y/N) asked absentmindedly.

Oikawa took a long sip of his milkshake, leaning back in the booth.

“Yes, but you know what would look even better? A lip piercing.”

(Y/N) gaped at him, “I’d be gone. That would kill me.”

“Tell me about it. I’m handsome and everything, but dear god, Iwa-chan is something else.”

“I get why you have a fanclub, but why the hell doesn’t Hajime have one? That boy is a work of art. And he uses those arms to help his grandmother! Tell me that’s not prime boyfriend material!”

“No doubt, no doubt. Maybe it’s because I’m flashier than he is? I mean, I interact with my fans. When girls come up to Iwa-chan, he just thanks them and leaves.”

“F’s in the chat.”

“F.”

Considering she had just moved to Miyagi, she didn’t know any good hang out spots. The diner Oikawa brought her to was very American 50’s style with its neon signs and leather booths. It was cute. She never saw anything like this back home. But despite how fun it was just hanging out with Oikawa like this, the conversation from earlier still lingered in (Y/N)’s mind. Curiosity having gotten the better of her, she asked him,

“Do you know a redhead girl? Tall, greenish eyes, hangs out with two other girls, one of which looks like she could snap your neck with one hand?”

“Sounds like Tachibana Akari. Why? Are they bothering you?” Oikawa asked seriously.

(Y/N) waved her hands in front of her.

“No, no, nothing like that. I just… I dunno, I was curious.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“Good, because I am,” (Y/N) sighed, “Do I have to tell you?”

“I can’t make you do anything, obviously, but I’m your friend, and it’d be nice if you opened up to me about these things.”

The shorter girl gave him a dirty look, “That was weirdly honest.”

Oikawa shrugged, “Well?”

(Y/N) stirred her milkshake, “They’re just being kinda petty, is all. Your fangirls get

a little possessive, is all.”

(Y/N) tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. The whole thing with what's-her-face

itself wasn’t, but if hanging out with Oikawa was gonna get her bullied, (Y/N) was having a hard time deciding if it was worth it.

“Yeah, they get like that sometimes. They mean well, it’s just...” he trailed off.

“Bitches be cray?” she offered. Oikawa nearly choked on his drink. His clenched fist came up towards his mouth, trying to stifle his giggles.

‘Ugh, he’s adorable. Gross.’

“Maybe a little… But they’re not gonna do anything to you. I think.”

“You think?”

“Yes, (Y/N), I think. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Whatever.” (Y/N) swatted at the hand creeping towards her fries, “It’s not a big deal. I was just curious, I guess-- Hey, fuck off, you have your own fries.”

“You got curly fries! How are you not gonna share?”

“Come near my fries again, and I will end you,” she threatened. The glare in her eyes gave Oikawa a clear warning that she was not playing around. This bitch will end you if you come near them fries.

The teens stared at each other intensely, the look in their eyes challenging the other. For Oikawa, two things could happen if he goes for the fries.

One, she ends his ass and he can have curly fries in the afterlife. (Y/N) goes to jail for his murder, but the jury finds out her motive and they say, ‘Oh yeah, that’s fair,’ and she ends up with 3 months community service instead.

Two, his prayers are answered and she soft enough for him by now and lets him take them.

Honestly, even he wasn’t going to take those odds. He settled down and picked at his own regular fries.

“This is just my opinion, but if I were you, I’d do the opposite of what they want me to do.”

“So you think I should hang out with you more?” she asked.

Oikawa waved a fry around as he spoke, “Yeah. Out of spite.” He took one of her fries while she was distracted, “But it also shows that you don’t care about what they want you to do.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “That’s what you’d do cause you’re a petty bitch.”

“Yeah, but maybe petty’s the way to go.”

She stopped to think about it for a moment. When she transferred to Seijoh, she planned to let any kind of drama roll off her back, like Wakatoshi advised her to. The problem was, that just wasn’t her.

Oikawa started talking about some dumb thing Makki and Mattsun did that got them in trouble with the captain. (Y/N) hardly noticed as she watched those soft lips move around his words. Did he use a lip scrub? He totally would. That boy probably bought the latest Cactha one, preordered.

‘You know what? Maybe I will do the opposite of what they want me to do. Stay away from him? So I’ll…’

Before common sense could kick in, she shoved their food to the side. While Oikawa was busy being confused, she grabbed him by his Aoba Johsai VBC jacket and yanked him towards her.

Just inches away from him, she asked, “Yes or no?”

Oikawa wished he could have recovered from his confusion sooner, but all he could really do was nod his head yes.

She tilted her head, leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his. They were just as soft as they looked.

The tall boy sighed into the kiss. He was just about to cup her cheek before she pulled away out of breath. At the loss of her lips, Oikawa whined in displeasure.

(Y/N) stopped halfway out of her seat, “Did you just whine?”

“No?”

She smirked evilly, “Oh, this will be fun.”

Oikawa found himself being dragged by the wrist out the door. When he invited (Y/N) out, he wasn’t expecting this outcome, but damn if he wasn’t grateful.

“My parents are out of town on an overnight trip,” he said simply. The girl in front of him nodded, getting the hint.

Once inside his house, (Y/N) was on him again. She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. Long fingers dug into her hips to keep him grounded. Eventually, though, he had to pull back for air.

“So,” he panted, “Is this how you’re getting back at Tachibana?”

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, urging him to take it off, “Yep. Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he slipped his fingers under her shirt, “Maybe a little more than okay.”

Oikawa sat her down on the bed. As he loomed above her, (Y/N) snickered.

“Cute,” she said sarcastically.

The much bigger boy above her yelped as she slammed him down on his bed. (Y/N) straddled his hips. Her smaller hands ran over the outline of his abs.

Oikawa looked like he wanted to protest. His large hands gripped her thighs.

“Please,” he whispered.

(Y/N) put her hand to her chin and pretended to think.

“Hmm. Please what?”

He looked stressed, “Please, (Y/N)-chan?”

She smiled, “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll allow it.”

Unbuttoning her already horribly rumpled shirt, she sat against the headboard and spread her legs. Oikawa all but lunged at her, his curly brown locks disappearing under her uniform skirt. Her hands found purchase in those locks and he had to clamp her inner thighs with his strong hands to keep her from crushing his skull.

“Oikaw-- Ahhh!” she squealed when he made contact. He smirked against her center. One elegant finger looped around her panties.

“Can I take these off?” he asked.

(Y/N) glared down at him over the one hand covering her mouth.

“Yes!”

“Alright, alright,” he giggled, “Itadakimasu~”

God, he was fucking insufferable.

(E/N): I pay for Runchykroll Premium in this group, and my wallet does little cries every month. Also any Danganronpa fans here?

- Admin Kiwi-Chan

(A/N): This took so long. I sorry. Words hard. Mango dead.

- Admin Mango-Chan

Taglist: @cristaldoodleskies @br0kenskeleton

#oikawa #oikawa tooru #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #Iwaizumi Hajime #haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyuu #ushijima #Ushijima Wakatoshi #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

60 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Title: Love, Maybe? {14}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. 3 years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

Note: Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

**Partially Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 14: Finding Vixen

-Vixen-

“Wow, things are moving quickly.”

You spun around the construction site the crew was making progress with the space that would be your restaurant. You couldn’t believe in a matter of weeks what was happening.

“Things move quickly when everything aligns,” Zack responded from behind you. You looked to him and smiled, but as you stared at him, you only saw one face looking back at you. The smile slipped from your lips, and you gulped down the emotion threatening to spill out. Turning your back, you tried your best to pull yourself together.

“You okay Vixen?”

Clearing your throat, you nodded as you took a few steps away to what would or could be the spot for the outdoor eating spot. You bit your bottom lip, while a swell of pride and accomplishment fulled you, sadness and a feeling of being overwhelmed flooded you as well. It had been four days since you’d seen Chris, four days since your entire world had come crashing down, four days since the feelings you thought were long gone surfaced again, four days since the encounter you’d always dreaded and planned would go smoothly went the opposite. Sighing you took a deep breath and turned to face Zack, Kassius and the small team that was assembled for your expansion.

“Are you happy with this so far? Any suggestions?”

Glancing around you took in the demolition that looked just to have begun. You shook your head.

“No, this looks to be the beginning nothing much to make suggestions on. I’d like to look at it again once it’s cleared out, just want to make sure everything transitions right.”

“Absolutely. I’ve seen Giovanni’s in San Fran; I can imagine how particular you are about the visual of your restaurant. As long as we’re on schedule, things should be clear in another day or two,” Timothy one of the members of the team said.

You nodded and made your way to the front door as everyone else followed. When you stepped out into the LA sun, you placed your sunglasses on your nose. Zack approached beside you and put his hand on the small of your back.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just haven’t gotten a lot of sleep the last few days, and it’s always a hassle moving in.”

Zack nodded and slowly rubbed your back. You tried not to shy away from his touch.

“I can treat you to a relaxing night, dinner, a drink, maybe a massage.”

He smiled softly, and you felt the genuineness of his offer, but you knew it wasn’t something you were going to pass on. You smiled, hoping to soften the blow.

“You’re so sweet Zack, I appreciate it, I really do, but since the move, Ella hasn’t gotten back to her regular sleeping schedule I need to focus on her right now. I’m sorry.”

He looked as if he were trying to swallow the rejection. You hoped he wouldn’t make it a big thing. In all truth, while you liked his company, you really didn’t want to date. You didn’t feel much of anything for anyone, except him. Zack nodded, looked down, and nodded some more.

“I understand. You’re a mom first. It’s admirable. I’m not going to lie and say I’m not disappointed, but I understand. Just uh—I want you to know that I like you Vixen, I didn’t expect it, but there it is. I would like to get to know you better really try to build something with you.”

“Uuugh, jeez Vix. What do you say to that?”

After you looked around you taking notice of how close the others were you decided now wasn’t the right place to let him down. You also didn’t want to lead him on.

“All right Vixen, so we’re going to schedule another walk through once all demo is done, and we’ll make some decisions. I have a few mocks for you to look over and hopefully by then we’ll have some ideas,” Kassius said.

“Yes, I’ll look over these.”

You took the folder that looked thicker than a George A. Romano novel and bugged your eyes out.

“Good lord.”

“Yes, a lot of decisions to be made, this is the fun part,” he finished with a broad smile on his face.

“I’ll see you then. Are you coming, Zack? We’re still on for golf?”

Zack looked at you and nodded once he realized you weren’t going to respond to his declaration. You were glad your shades were darker than the midnight sky because your eyes weren’t hiding anything.

“Yeah. I’ll call you,” Zack said before he walked to Kassius and the two walked off to Kassius’ bright red sports car. You nodded your head to the rest of the team and made your way to your rental car.

You looked into the mirror and shook your head before you started your engine to begin on your to-do list. At the top was picking up some more groceries, then some office supplies and then to pick up some stuff for Ella. You hated the grocery places around the house; they were overpriced for no reason, and the produce never looked fresh. That meant you were going to drive over five miles to get to the supermarket Zack told you about—Gleason’s.

As you drove your mind drifted back to seeing Chris. The last time you’d seen him, you’d told him to have a nice life. You were pissed and hurt, and it seemed like a good enough thing to say. Shit, you didn’t even know why you were pissed, you brought it on yourself. You were stupid enough to think that there was anything possible between the two of you.

You should have known better. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke, and dressed it screamed bachelor, screamed down for a good time and nothing more. Every alarm rang off in your head about him the minute you saw him at the table. Everything in you screamed “don’t,” but the other voice in you said, “just do it, it’s Vegas.” Yeah well, “it’s Vegas” turned into a kid and haunting memories. That didn’t change the fact that he was still gorgeous and his shoulders were bigger than ever.

“Of course he had to be gorgeous. Of course he couldn’t turn ugly or have gained thirty pounds of fat. No, he got sexy as fuck and gained thirty pounds of muscle.”

You groaned loudly and focused again on the GPS that predicted you’d reach your destination in five minutes. Once you parked in the lot, you roamed the aisles pushing the cart before you.

“Black tea, herbal tea, coffee, check.” You dropped the items in the cart and went perusing down the next.

“Rice Krispies, honey bunches of oats, oatmeal, flour, food coloring, sugar, yeast, check.”

You turned down the refrigerator aisle to scan for eggs, milk, butter, cheese, yogurt, orange juice, coffee creamer, jello, cream cheese, and that disgusting iced coffee drink Nexus loved. With your list about half done you allowed yourself to get distracted in the produce section where they held fresh flowers. You loved fresh flowers. There were pink, red, blue, yellow and even white flowers of all varieties. You decided on two beautiful assortments of pink and yellow roses and a separate one of pink orchids, you loved orchids. Tipping your head down to take a whiff of the fragrant flowers you looked over to the other side of the section and saw the actor Nexus was losing her mind over—Anthony Mackie. Quickly putting the flowers in your cart you made a u-turn to get back on track, you definitely didn’t want a run in.

Just as you thought you were safe in the bread aisle holding two selections of bread, one you liked and one Ella couldn’t get enough of you you saw him. Your legs thought you had time to make another getaway, but your brain knew better, he saw you too. Anthony approached you with a friendly smile on his face as he tipped his hat lower. You knew it was pointless, but you still turned and rolled out the aisle. As soon as you made it to the soda and water aisle, he was at your side.

“Vixen right?”

Sighing, you nodded. “That’s right.”

“I’m going to say you didn’t see me, that’s why you walked away; otherwise, that was rude.”

You snorted and shook your head. He had to be kidding.

“I was trying to protect your incognito look. I’m thinking if these people knew they were walking next to The Falcon himself they’d draw a scene and there goes your disguise. By the way, that’s a horrible disguise.”

Anthony chuckled and nodded his head.

“Of course you’re as snarky as your sister. Speaking of, how is she? Is she here?”

You looked at Anthony as he quickly looked up and down the aisle as if looking for her. Scoffing again you responded, “No, she’s not here. Why does it matter?”.

“Just curious.”

“Bullshit!”

You laughed out loud and pushed the cart further and placed other items in your cart. “I can see right through you. Looks like another one bites the dust.”

“Another one bites the dust? What does that mean?”

“It means you’ve been hit with the Nexus haze. Almost every man that speaks to her for any amount of time falls under her spell. You Mr big-time movie star are no different.”

Anthony smiled and shrugged, but he didn’t look as smug as he usually did, no this time he looked as if he felt threatened as if he were worried. He should be Nexus wasn’t half a woman like these barbie doll actresses and models she was one hundred percent that bitch and she was a force to be reckoned with. The two of you walked in silence for a few feet.

“So, I learned a fun fact recently. You’d never believe it,” Anthony began.

“Oh yeah, what fun fact is that?”

“Three years ago, a woman went to Vegas for some fun and ended marrying Captain America himself.” Your brain failed to communicate with your legs, and you just stopped in the middle of the aisle.

“He told him. Shit!”

“But you believe it, because—,” Anthony leaned into your ear and whispered. “You are that woman.”

You looked to him, unsure what to say. You could deny, deny, deny, but you were sure Chris was the one to tell him. You sighed again.

“Don’t worry, he’s my best friend, your secret is safe with me.” You walked again and turned down another aisle.

“Was it shock that had you running like a bat outta hell, or was it something else? Do you hate him?”

“I hate no one; there is no time for all of that. I have too many things to accomplish.”

“Okay, a mature one. He lucked out,” Anthony joked. The humor of it was lost on you. You didn’t bother laughing or smiling about it either.

“It was good seeing you again, take care,” you rushed out as you walked to the cash-out. You didn’t know if you’d gotten everything, but you needed to get out of there. It was insane; every second you spent around him, you felt it was only a matter of time before he saw the truth through your eyes, or seeping from your pores.

You unloaded the groceries on the belt then saw Anthony help. Rolling your eyes, you stayed quiet.

“How do you feel about seeing him again after so long?”

Groaning you turned to him your frustrations seeped out. “What’s it to you? What’s with all the questions? We did what we did, but we also went through with the divorce, it’s all water under the bridge now. No need to keep talking about it.”

Anthony studied you as you continued to unload the groceries so the cashier could do her job. You were usually good at keeping your emotions in check, but everything was becoming a lot more difficult. You hated it.

“Whew, that sounds like a lot of hurt and anger, years worth of it. Maybe not so much water under the bridge, huh.” Antony’s eyes bored into you, and you narrowed yours. Anthony nodded again and stepped back.

“Take care of yourself Vixen. Oh, and could you give your sister a message for me? Tell her I didn’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t plan on it. I was telling her the truth.”

As quickly as he appeared, he disappeared, allowing you to focus again. You moved as quickly as you could to wrap up the rest of your errands. By the time you made it home, the sun was down, and you had a car full of shit. After thirty minutes of unloading and unpacking, you dropped onto the couch to catch your breath. Ella ran to you, you quickly scooped her up and dropped kiss after kiss across her face. She released an uproar of giggles that made your heart swell.

“Top, top, top!”

“No, no, no, take all mommy’s kisses, take them all!”

Her laughter filled the entire room, and soon, Nexus was beside you holding Ella down as she tickled her small ribs. This only made her wiggle and scream even more. The two of you slowly stopped, and Ella settled down comfortably in your arms, holding tightly to you.

“Long day?”

You looked to Nexus and nodded.

“That’s a big book.”

“It is, and I have a few more days to look through and find my aesthetic for the next round of meetings. Things are moving fast. Maybe we can be in and out of LA sooner than I thought.”

Nex gave you a look that said: “be real, aren’t you forgetting something.” You ignored it and flipped through the design pages.

“Vixen.”

“What do you think of this one? It’s airy and modern but still has a traditional vibe.”

Flipping to another page, you have the book your full attention. Seeing another contender, you showed your sister.

“Ooh, this looks very modern like a real celebrity restaurant. Doesn’t say much to traditional comfort but what the hell step into the times, right.”

“Vixen!”

“What!?”

“You know what,” Nexus exasperated. You shrugged and continued to flip the pages determined not to address what Nex clearly wanted you to.

“Vixen, you know damn well you can’t leave LA without telling Chris about Ella.” You groaned and rolled your eyes.

You knew you shouldn’t have told her shit. Now it would be even harder to ignore the shoulds. When you didn’t answer after a few minutes, she took the heavy binder off your lap and placed it on the side table nearest her. Groaning you stood and walked back in the kitchen to busy yourself, hoping it would distract you. You took out the meat for the meatballs you planned on making to accompany the spaghetti—Ella’s favorite. Refusing to take the hint, Nex walked in and crossed her arms before the island. You knew ignoring her would only work for so long, but you were going to milk it for every second you could.

You took out the flour and the other ingredients to make your signature pasta. Once you opened the fridge to grab some tomatoes and herbs for your sauce and closed the door, you came face to face with Nexus’ annoyed face. You snorted unable to hide your amusement.

“This isn’t funny Vix. It’s serious and a huge thing. It’s not just your life; you’re impacting. There are two other people, one small who cannot make a decision and the other who--,”

“Who what Nex? You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s really like,” you blurted out slamming the cutlery drawer a tad harder than you intended.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Again you ignored her and began washing your produce, focusing on getting every invisible speck of dirt. You’d told her the cliff notes version, beginning, middle, then end. You didn’t tell her the in between. You didn’t want to relive it out loud, you were fine keeping it a trip you took every night before you went to sleep. Once the produce was washed, you got to work chopping and dicing. You knew you were stressed because the knife was moving faster than ever and you knew she saw it too.

“I’m waiting. What does that mean? What is he really like?”

Kissing your teeth, you shook your head, “Forget it, Nex; it’s not important.”

“Clearly it is. There has to be a reason why you never told him about her, a reason you never claimed the child support that was rightfully yours. You know you could have used it while you were pregnant and the parts of the first year. Why? Did he hurt you? does he hit women?”

Nex shifted her stance, and you knew she was ready to pop off. She’d always been your keeper, your protector. You remembered a few girls she’d seriously beat down because they looked at you wrong across the playground. You sighed out, taking a pause with the chopping to give her a reassuring look.

“No, he didn’t hit me.” You saw her shoulders relax and her expression softening; then you returned to the task at hand.

“So he didn’t hit you. He did hurt you though.”

Nexus was no idiot. She knew how to hear what you said and decipher what you didn’t. You did your best to give no reaction as you moved around the kitchen.

“Okay, I get it. You didn’t tell him to spite him.”

“No!”

Though you adamantly rebuked that, part of you felt a way and you wondered if any part of you felt that way.

“Okay. So he hurt you, you ran back home with your tail tucked, and you hid away for the next near three years. What did he do?”

“Nex, please. It’s not important. Let’s drop it.”

“I’m trying to help. You seem to be ignoring or purposely forgetting that you have to tell him. I owe him nothing, and I don’t know him from Adam and my loyalties don’t lie with him that’s with you--,”

“So drop it. Have my back, be my pitbull!”

“Vix, don’t ever get it twisted and think I’m not riding for you one hundred. It’s always been you and me against the world, and it’s still that way. Just—this goes past that. This is a morally right and wrong issue. How would you feel not knowing you had a mini replica of you running around the world?”

“Fine, because I wouldn’t know.” Nexus walked around the island to you and put her arm around you. She could sense your breakdown was imminent. She gently rubbed your bare arm and let the silence fill the room. You closed your eyes, hoping to stop your warring thoughts. Of course part of you knew what she was saying was sound and right, but the other side refused to hear it.

“You’re afraid,” Nexus worded.

There it was plain as day, no hidden pretenses, no shade, no covers, just blatant truth. You were afraid. You were shitfaced scared.

“It’s okay to be scared. There is nothing wrong with it. Hell if you weren’t scared I’d be worried because that would show that you really have no intention of doing the right thing. I know you, Vix, do the right thing is your middle name. Somewhere inside you know you have to tell him, want to or not, have to and should outweigh it this time.”

“This is why I didn’t want to go to that stupid expo or come to this dumb place. It has a way of stealing and crushing dreams,” you groaned out.

“Or realigning them and showing you a new, different, better dream.”

You glanced at Nexus, took a deep breath, and released it. She was right — bottom line.

“Fuck!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

415-653-7575.

It wasn’t hard to get. All he had to do was google her and her location. He had all her information from three years ago. He had her full name, city, state, P.O Box information. In truth, he had everything he needed, and if he needed more, he could easily get more, it was a perk of being him. In all the years he didn’t use it, didn’t search, didn’t allow his curiosity to take over. Today he did.

It took him less than a minute to find her on Google, her name was uncommon, there was literally one Vixen Giovanni in San Francisco. It took him another minute to find her restaurant. Her restaurant. He was impressed. She said she wanted to open a restaurant and be a chef and she’d accomplished it, and she was successful. He spent nearly twenty minutes just looking through food reviews, articles, and pictures all of her and everything he remembered thinking and feeling those years ago came back.

He suspected it would be like this—feared it really which made him avoid doing this very thing for so long. He was afraid he was right, and he was. It took him the next hour to get the balls to call the number for her restaurant. An hour where he went over and over what he would say. He didn’t know where you were; it had been nearly a week since he saw you, you could have gone back to San Francisco.

He went over and over what he would say if you answered. He didn’t know if he should go with a calm and cool introduction; “Hey Vixen, remember me your ex-husband,” or an apologetic one; “I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from but—.” It was impossible to read you from the quick exchange days ago. You hadn’t spoken, you didn’t look angry, or happy or anything, your expression was blank, and then you were gone. He didn’t know what to expect.

When hour two was near, he bit the bullet and dialed your restaurant. The hostess transferred him to the manager who informed him you were out of town. Due to his quick thinking, he pretended to be interested in a potential business opportunity, it was then the manager gave him your cell phone number. He was surprised it was that easy. Now that was where he was, staring at your number with a bottle of beer on his right side, whiskey on the other and a joint in his hand. He leaned back and took several long puffs before holding them for a breath allowing the drug to haze away all his thoughts. Once he blew out the smoke, he took a long swig of his beer.

“Jesus Chris, it’s not hard, just dial the number. One step at a time.”

He took up his phone and punched in the numbers and hovered his finger over the green button, thinking about his actions one last time. Taking another long pull from his joint, he tapped the button and put it on speaker. It rang once, twice, three times and before he tapped the red button to end the call, a voice called out through the line.

“Hello?”

His brain froze, and speech did with it, so he sat there completely flustered.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Still, he didn’t speak. Only when the line went dead did he move, he dropped back against the couch and groaned loudly into the night sky.

“Come on, man!”

TagList:

@sarahboseman @texasbama @heyauntieeee @airis-paris14 @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakandas-vibranium @wakanda-inspired@theunsweetenedtruth @ashanti-notthesinger @reignsxjackson @halfrican-heat @ambthegamer @simplyyamberr @muse-of-mbaku @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @maliadestiny @drsunshine97 @blowmymbackout @purplehairgawdess@thehuntoyobun @wakandamama @wakandawinning @profilia@zxddy-panther @h-challa @babygirlofwakanda @misswakanda2018 @ororowrites@hutchj @myfavemarvelfanfics @lavitabella87 @afraiddreamingandloving @autumn242 @purple-apricots @skysynclair19 @hersheyskissesss-blog @blue-ishx @90sinspiredgirl @tchallaswife @tchallamakesmeh0lla @turn-thy-paige @blackchickfics @blackpantherismyish @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @naturally-bri @flawlesslybeautiful14 @qweentbh@lunaerly @theoutereffect@twilight-sapphire-lover @pupyluv247 @stark-red19 @cockyboysandsugarism@maverickabull @madbadsiren @aykanna @myaw731 @ruruly20 @mixedmelanin @brittyevans @bezzywazhere@laketaj24 @soulsparker @theresnomoregoodones @syreanne@loveandcigarillos @heyauntieeee @heybriheyyy @wakanda-bcth @uhlxis @maliadestiny @dadinhas-heat @yaachtynoboat711@geeksareunique @bultalongthewayside @ajspencer1892 @captiansaveasmut @imaginewhoever @terrablaze514 @starsshines-blog @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@darkandlovely94 @sithlordslut @wavyyc @naturalistamisslyn @nigarachi15 @madamslayyy @blackandfair @kreolemami @mylastnameisthe-fish @kaykay0829@chaneajoyyy @tequilajay27 @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @slimmiyagi @im5ftbutmythroat66 @jaeee-http@madhatterhelsing @sunflowerpsalms @wakanda-shit-is-that @deliciousstreetkidcroissant @jecourt @vebner37 @disneysdarlingdiva @melaninmarvel @alanastormborn@dolphinpink310 @wonderbell @ohleucothea @queentearra @bitchbetterhavemydinner @fentybabyy @kaykay4454fan @priya212 @kitkit1690 @chrismarcs @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @blackpantherimagines @ovohanna24 @sweetpeachjones @kslo000 @nubian-queen18 @omgsuperstarg @airis-paris14 @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @drsunshine97 @blue-ishx @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @prettyprincessushio @treeondrea @ursapharoh05 @blackpinup22 @kaytauru @big3gocandykahn @kissingpineapples @wildaboutchrisevans @fitfineandstayingalive @misspooh @michele-onel @gorjiss @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @muva-milaje @limbo-limbo-limbo @awkwardlyabstract @blxck-brxndie @meeky-imagines @inlovewith3 @metalarmlover @mellowjellow6 @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@sweettea-and-honeybutter@thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @ursapharoh05 @treeondrea @ovohanna24 @marvelheaux @romanceoftheeveryday @mufasathatniggatho @cltex84 @sweetbearcolorgarden @msincognito67 @mosagram @lunaerly @mar-ta-3 @ljstraightnochaser @lewatigress @akimi-youngblood @bekahdean87 @jasmindaughteroftheworld@cocooned-butterfly @emoniclark22 @chereedrop619 @theblulife @niggarachi15 @drsunshine97 @msincognito67 @missdeerstalker15 @wakandamama @great-neckpectations @avenger-marvel-fan @arieljamiyla @vibranium-soul @monae-boss @queenxchallaxkillamonger@amirra88 @jaeee-http @omg-itsnadi @fonville-designs @sydneebleu @cherrystainedlipsbaby

****If the spacing is all messed up I apologize. I copy and past from Word and try to anticipate Tumblr messing up the spacing and fix it but once I push post everything always jumbled out. Sorry guys.

#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

187 notes · View notes

percentmagazine · 4 years

Text

Matrix Pill 2020

The Matrix has you…

The cultural overview over "The Matrix Trilogy" and how it foresaw the social trends.

"The Matrix" trilogy by the Wachowski brothers is the most iconic and groundbreaking movie trilogies in cinema history. Terms like "The red pill", "Dessert of the real", "There is no spoon", "Follow the white rabbit", "Why, Mr. Anderson? Why?" and many other phrases from the film became the golden quotes of the new millennium, shaping the entire culture of the "generation Y"… also known as "the millennials". "The bullet time" effect with fancy acrobatic moves and bullet waves turned into the most quoted gimmick for decades in action films, parodies and video games. The slow motion has never been so cool and slick, as it was after "The Matrix", not to mention sunglasses at night and dark looks with fashionable black leather tailored coats.

Its been 21 years since the theatrical release of the first "The Matrix" film. It came out in November of 1999 (the most revolutionary year in cinema history, since it is the release year of such groundbreaking hit titles like "Star Wars: Episode I. The Phantom Menace" by George Lucas, "Fight Club" by David Fincher, and "The Matrix", of course, by the Wachowski brothers). Four years after the great success of the film, "The Matrix" was reloaded with two worthy sequels: "The Matrix Reloaded" and "The Matrix Revolutions" — turning a movie franchise into a full-time trilogy. There was also "The Animatrix" — an anthology of animated short films set in "The Matrix Universe" directed by highly acclaimed Japanese animators, and a video-game "Enter the Matrix" which told a story that went parallel to the story of sequels, explaining some of the unanswered questions in the films. Thus "The Matrix" franchise has become one of the first inter-media franchises where all available storytelling formats told one epic story from different angles and points of view. And unlike other attempts of creating such inter-media franchise around movies (like it was with "Star Wars Expended Universe" or "The Terminator" franchise) it wasn't just pure merchandising and cash-grabbing schemes with questionable product quality having a famous brand logo on it… no, '"The Matrix" franchise was one well thought out project and story from the very beginning, created and curated by the Wachowski brothers. Nothing more or less.

In the year of 2020 "The Matrix" is being reloaded once again with its new instalment being in production. Internet is filled with shaky mobile phone behind the scenes footage of "The Matrix 4". We see Neo, played by actor Keanu Reeves and his stunt double, jumping of high buildings and riding fancy motorcycle with Trinity, played by Carrie Ann-Moss, while the streets of San-Francisco are being turned into a chaotic war zone with explosions, car chases, extras running all over the streets and helicopters flying.

Usually such big blockbuster film productions are being held in secret in order to prevent unnecessary leaks and story spoilers… most of the extras and crew members don't even know what movie they are filming up until the very end. During such big productions fake movie titles are made. But this time, as it seams, filmmakers don't really care about production secrecy, as actor Keanu Reeves and film director Lana Wachowski keep on hanging out with random people on a street during the filmmaking process. What is it? A new viral social media format of film advertising? Or the new way of entire filmmaking approach? Or maybe both?

Either way — Lana Wachowski is the visionary artist that is going to bring something fresh and unexpected into the cinema format and into the new "Generation Z" culture. The Wachowski brothers have foreseen the future with "The Matrix" film almost in every way possible… and I'm pretty sure they are going to do so again. They spoke of cyber-crimes, data privacy and internet control long before Edward Snowden incident, WikiLeaks, Anonymous group, social medias and etc. They showed aircraft controlled by so called "terrorists" hitting skyscrapers years before 9/11. "The Matrix" also tried to warn us about the dangers of virtual realities, and here we are 20 years later using VR systems and spending our lives in endless MMO RPG games (by the way, "The Matrix" franchise even had its own MMO RPG video game "The Matrix Online"). The virtual values have become much more valuable that the material ones. Bitcoins and Facebook likes are considered to be much more precious then real money and even gold by many. Instagram pages are viewed as the only true portraits of their users, however bright filters, happy faces, flattering camera lenses and photoshop have nothing to do with reality. It is merely a "Residual self-image", as it was named in the film, "A mental projection of your digital self". The person sees himself whom he wants him to be, not whom he really is.

And I think that this topic is the most overlooked topic by critics and contemporary culture scholars.

Just think about it — the Wachowski brothers are the physical manifestation of their own concept of "Residual self-image", as both of them saw themselves as someone different. Both brothers were men, but they considered themselves to be women. Their physical reality didn't match with their mental projection of virtual self. Thus they had to do surgeries and go through sex change procedures. The Wachowski brothers are officially sisters. Nowadays in 2020 it is a common practice that can't surprise anyone, however in 1990s during the production of the first "The Matrix" film it was a big deal… so big that Wachowski brothers had to rewrite the screenplay. In the earlier drafts of the script there was a fully flashed out transgender character. She is still present in the final film, but her role and concept has been reduced. Character Switch — portrayed by Belinda McClory — was a transgender, and her name "Switch" meant too illustrate her constant transitions from one form into another, as she was a female in the real world, but in the Matrix her personal "Residual self-image" switched her into a masculine male. For Wachowski brothers it was a very important topic to explore, since both of them dedicated their lives to transgender worldview, but in 1990's the film studio and producers thought that such concepts would be too confusing for average film viewers and difficult to follow, thus it was all cut out during pre-production. Even their first film "Bound" that featured lesbian love story was met with numerous misunderstandings during pre-production, during its filming and, of course, during its release, since such themes were considered too risky… almost taboo, as they could easily put off many unprepared audiences.

But now… look how the world and culture has changed?! In 21 years everything is upside down. It is almost impossible to find a big blockbuster film or franchise or T.V. series or even a video-game that has no lesbian, gay, transgender, bisexual, pansexual or any other "something"-sexual character. It is true for both "rated R" and "rated M" media and for media oriented for children. Disney's life adaptation of animated classic "Beauty and the Beast" is the prime example… not to mention more.

I must say that unorthodox sexual orientation of characters were always present in cinema, they were never the subject of prohibition and never will be, however before "Wachowski era" their orientation always played some sort of narrative purpose. No character was supposed to be gay or transexual just for that sake of being such. But nowadays we see LGBT characters all over visual media… and the fact of their orientation rarely enhance the story or add anything to it. For the most part it is just being there for no reason other then being there. No wonder we have so many poorly written stories today. "Chekhov's gun" is the key to good storytelling, isn't it? If you put something into a story, it must heave a purpose, because without purpose it's just a filler, a white noise… this means it shouldn't be there at all. And here I'd like to quote Agent Smith from "The Matrix" films:

"But, as you well know, appearances can be deceiving…" — even here Wachowski brothers point out the previous "Residual self-image" topic. "…which brings me back to the reason why we're here. We're not here because we're free. We're here because we're not free. There is no escaping reason; no denying purpose. Because as we both know, without purpose, we would not exist."

Curious… Wachowski brothers were pioneers in LGBT mass-media, yet even they were smart enough to exclude these themes from "The Matrix trilogy", even having a total creative freedom over the sequels, as they knew that it would serve no purpose in their story. Yet they used much more sophisticated tricks to pinpoint their agenda and worldview. Get ready for some hard drugs! Wachowski brothers urged the protagonist and film viewers to take "The red pill" and "Free our minds". They also urged us to fight against all rules and stereotypes, and young generation loved it. In the film it simply meant "rage against the machines", but in our world where this film was "The red pill" for young people, this fight against the established order had much deeper purpose.

Upon the quick view on the lives of the Wachowski brothers over these two decades we can tell that their "red pill" they were giving us, was simply a androgyne hormone for transgenders and their main "Matrix" they were fighting against, was the sexual orientation stereotypes. They succeeded in their revolution, as LGBT themes are no longer taboo in mass-media. But there were also other important cultural topics Wachowski brothers presented with their trilogy: multiculturalism, racial diversity, feminism and even "toxic masculinity" and war against white men and patriarchy… long before these themes became mainstream in pop-culture.

"The Matrix" franchise had always a diverse cast, didn't it? It also has strong and independent female characters right from the start. And it wasn't just a copycat trend to appeal some social minorities, as it happens today. It was the personal philosophy of the authors. However, despite all their diversity and equality, one social group was shown deliberately one-sided. Just think about it. All evil characters in all three films were male and white. Agents are white middle aged men, Cypher — white middle aged man, Merovingian — white middle aged man, Architect — white man, Bane — white middle aged man, etc. Some can argue on this topic, since white men where also on the side of good guys. True, "but, as you well know, appearances can be deceiving…" says Smith. All white men on the good side of the story are… well, questionable. Whom can we name? Councillor Hamann — played by Anthony Zerbe — is a white man… a father figure in Zion, however he is shown to be an irrational and rhetorical weak old man. Comparing him to other leaders of Zion we can easily see his incompetence. Even Neo makes fun of him, pointing out on a fact that Hamann's solid age doesn't make him wiser (and it is the only time in the whole trilogy when the main protagonist ever trolls anyone). Then there is the Kid — played by Clayton Watson — another white man good guy, but he is just an immature naive boy… in "The Animatrix" he in the moment of danger finds no better way out then a suicide… a very questionable role model, don't you think? Who's next? Mouse — portrayed by Matt Doran — once again a young teenager full of sexual hormones and nothing more. There is also Captain Roland — played by David Roberts — and his ship crew, but a single black woman Niobe — played by Jada Pinkett Smith — turns out to be wiser and much more competent then any of them. Meanwhile all non-white and non-male characters are shown in the positive light. Wait… but what about Neo — the one himself — played by Keanu Reeves — he is a white man — the hero of the trilogy. True. However originally "The Matrix" creators wanted to cast Will Smith for the role of Neo, but Will Smith declined the role and chose to act in "Wild Wild West".

In other words Wachowski brothers brought up anti-white men SJW themes in their films long before such topics became mainstream and part of pop-culture. Thus they weren't even noticed by the time of film release. But it is worth mentioning that Wachowski brothers were depicting anti-white men subplots not because they were following some kind of fashion or social agenda like mass-media does today, but because brothers WERE white and men, and they wanted to do something about it. And they did. For real.

However next generation of filmmakers and artists took the Wachowski brothers' personal issues and turned it into a viral trend, changing the culture forever. It can be even said that the modern SJW and LGBT hysteria is the Matrix, created by Wachowski brothers. I wonder, will their new "The Matrix" film change the world once again?.. and how?

Text: Jurii Kirnev

Omnifinery Editorial: Article 003

#matrix #wachowski sisters #social trends #lgbt #lgbtq positivity #lgbtq community #omni #omniyouomnime

2 notes · View notes

lucybellwood · 7 years

Photo

The Financial Realities of Going Viral

I did bit of an experiment over on my Patreon page this week. After the image in this post (which I’d originally done for a freelance gig in 2013) went viral at the end of October, I began tracking all the direct income that came my way over the following month. This timeline represents my best knowledge of how much a single image has earned for me over the last four years.

I’d encourage you to read to the end to understand that even if the money isn’t what you might expect, there’s a bigger plan at play.

Here's a little financial timeline of the Art of the Sailor image.

February, 2013: I get a request to do an illustration gig for the Vancouver Maritime Museum. They're running an exhibit on the history of tattoos and scrimshaw and want a life-size sailor poster to show off some popular tattoo choices. We have a great time collaborating and eventually come up with the image you see in this post. I get paid $192.50 for my work on the poster. I am charging $35 an hour.

March, 2014: I get emails from curators at the Los Angeles and San Diego Maritime Museums, both wanting to exhibit the poster. It's a cool thing to say your work has been featured in multiple maritime museums! I do not receive payment, mostly because I like boat people and am happy to have them use my art, but also because I'm inexperienced and unsure of whether I can ask for a licensing fee.

June, 2014: I sell the original artwork of the illustration (just the sailor, sans text) to a fan for $125. (I go back and forth on selling originals vs. clinging to them "until they're worth something," but that's a discussion for another time.)

July, 2015: I pay Twin Ravens Press to produce a letterpress print version as a fancy reward for the Baggywrinkles Kickstarter. We make 100 of them. The prints are a fairly popular reward choice, but don't move at conventions. $40, while reasonable for a two-color letterpress print, turns out to be a bit more than people at comics shows are interested in paying.

2015-2017: I sell 12 of the letterpress prints over the following two years, bringing in a total of $480. Once it's clear that my audience isn't clamoring for them, I try out regular laser print versions for a few shows in 2017, bringing in $120.

Occasionally someone will point out that a military or naval fan page on Facebook has shared the image (without crediting me or linking to my work), garnering thousands of reactions and comments. This is frustrating, but also just the cost of doing business online. I don’t give it much thought.

December, 2016: I list the image in my print-on-demand shop on INPRNT and sell three prints over the next six months, netting $10 per print. (INPRNT takes a substantial cut off the $20 price point for handling production and shipping fulfillment.)

October 21st, 2017: Here’s where things get interesting. Boing Boing, a website that receives about 10 million pageviews a month, features the illustration in a blog post, pointing specifically to the letterpress prints.

The author makes sure to link to both the letterpress prints and the print-on-demand version of the image featured on INPRNT, since the letterpress run is limited and likely to sell out. (Dear Lord, may all bloggers be as fabulous and diligent as the staff at Boing Boing. Amen.)

October 23rd, 2017: My Modern Met picks the story up from Boing Boing. They have 2.3 million Facebook fans.

October 25th, 2017: Pat, the head honcho at my store with Buyolympia, emails to tell me there's been a run on the letterpress prints and they've sold out and do I have any more. I do not. We get some print-on-demand editions up in his shop as well, since I'm trying to migrate all my operations over there anyway.

October 27th, 2017: Atlas Obscura (985k Facebook fans) picks up the story from My Modern Met. The next day George Takei posts about it. He has 10 million followers on Facebook, give or take a couple hundred thousand. The post gets 16 thousand reactions and five thousand comments. Many of my friends tell me I am now famous.

October 21st-31st, 2017: 23 prints of various sizes sell on INPRNT after all the press, netting me $191.50. FINALLY, that Famous Person Money I’ve heard so much about.

November 3rd, 2017: Commander Chris Hadfield, the first Canadian to walk in space, shares the image on social media. He has 2.28 million Twitter followers. The tweet (never mind the versions posted to Facebook, Tumblr, and Instagram) gets 1,700 likes and 572 retweets.

November 6th, 2017: I receive my sales report for the previous two weeks of commerce in the Buyoly shop. We sold 46 on-demand sailor prints, netting $345, and 7 letterpress prints (the last of the bunch!) bringing in $210 before cost of production. (I'm not factoring in the $243 brought in from other items sold in this period, but some of those sales may have come from people who initially showed up to buy sailor prints.)

November 20th, 2017: My second monthly payment from Buyoly comes in. The rush has tapered off and we’ve sold 9 more prints, bringing in $67.50.

SO: To date, including the money I was paid to produce the artwork, I have made $1,761.50 from this image. Not bad! Notably: $814 of that came after Boing Boing decided to feature the art with a proper link pointing people to my shop. There are a bunch of factors to consider here.

I am delighted at all the press this piece has garnered, and of course very grateful to Boing Boing for conscientiously sourcing their material. It can, as this has hopefully demonstrated, have a very real impact on the livelihood of the people involved.

But I also think it's important to share these numbers as a reminder that just because you've seen someone's work shared on a popular platform (or by a popular person), doesn't mean they're automatically set for life. It does, however, mean they might be making a couple hundred bucks more than they usually do in a given month, and when you're trying to make it as a freelancer that makes all the difference in the world.

I was also just genuinely curious about how much this little illustration job from so long ago had paid dividends over the last five years. You never know what's going to happen to your work in the long haul, and it's always, always worthwhile to get a high-quality file for making prints, just in case.

Of the (probably) millions of people who have now seen this piece of art, 85 have actually made the jump to buying the physical object. Now we could look at that and get really depressed about conversion figures and feel like we’re never going to be able to convert online traffic into sustainable revenue, but here's the thing: this is all part of the plan.

Maybe a few of those millions of people will remember my name the next time my work gets the spotlight. And maybe once they've seen my work a couple times, they'll visit my website. And maybe the fifth time they visit the website they'll buy a book, or recognize me at a show, or start following me on Twitter. And if they like the books, or what I say on the internet, maybe they’ll start coming back every year. And then I'll feel comfortable saying I'm famous, at least to those people.

This is how fanbases are really made—not in viral posts, but in the microscopic accumulation of many, many chance interactions and moments of recognition over time.

The best part about being in it for the long haul is getting to see those moments come home to roost.

Thanks for being the people who made the jump <3

Lucy

#money #viral #tattoo #sailors #viral art #finances #reality check #freelancing #fanbases #makin' it #boing boing #blog #lucy bellwood

72 notes · View notes

kevinclerk11-blog · 5 years

Text

BETWEEN THE BRIDGES

A few years ago I did a feature on Manhattan between the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges (I call it BEMBO), but as always, there’s more to see and there are details I missed. This time of year I also begin to scout areas that would make decent Forgotten NY tours in the spring and summer. BEMBO is a curious area, full of crannies and nooks of interest. Had I been writing Forgotten New York in the 1960s, there would have been a lot more to talk about, as maybe half of this neighborhood has been razed to build housing projects, schools, and the NYPD headquarters. I was able to show some of these lost streets in a FNY post in January 2019.

Getting off the F train at East Broadway at Canal (Straus Square) I meandered west. I discussed the Mesivtha Tiferes Jerusalem Yeshiva just the other day, so I won’t repeat myself here; it’s a handsome building in buff and brown brick, and has a venerable history.

East Broadway, looking west, looking toward the Manhattan Bridge overpass, and behind it, the Municipal Building and Woolworth Building, which from this vantage look like twin spires of the same building. In the left background is #4 World Trade Center and on the right, of course, is #1 World Trade Center. In the foreground left is the relatively new 109 East Broadway, the site of a devastating fire in 2010. The building exhibits the latest trend in residential architecture, featuring a boxy design with colored metal panels and flat windows. Why do so many new apartment buildings looks like this? They’re the cheapest to build.

In FNY’s Comments section, and remarks from friends on facebook, twitter and in person, many dismiss new architecture outright, saying nothing built today matches the past. I judge each building on its merits, and part of me is happy to live in a dynamic city that can accommodate new designs. I like a city that has both a Jenga tower and a St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

Until the beginning of the 20th Century, East Broadway was known as Chatham Street, for William Pitt, Earl of Chatham (1708-1778) who was the English Prime Minister during the time the colonies were agitating for independence, but before the Revolutionary War. He opposed the Stamp Act, but also opposed outright independence, but promoted compromise that ultimately proved untenable. Many USA locales are named for him including Pittsfield, MA and Pittsburgh, PA, as well as Chatham Square, East Broadway at the Bowery.

No good way to get a picture of the Knickerbocker Post Office, 128 East Broadway near Pitt Street because of … all the mail trucks parked in front of it.

Washington Irving (1783-1859), who met his namesake George Washington while a young boy, was popular both in the States and in Europe for his essays and fiction, and was the creator of Ichabod Crane, Rip van Winkle, and the tricornered Father Knickerbocker, NYC’s mascot. “Knickerbocker,” which is fun to say, refers to NYC’s early Dutch settlers and appears frequently in NYC lore, including its NBA basketball team.

The Sung Tak Buddhist Association at 13 Pike Street was once the Pike Street Synagogue, a Classic Revival building from 1903 that housed the Congregation Sons of Israel Kalwarie, Poland. Entertainer Eddie Cantor was bar mitzvahed here in 1905. The tripartite façade, which has an arched portico reached by twin lateral staircases, reflects Romanesque and classical features.

Looking north on Pike Street, which was named for explorer Zebulon Pike, soldier and explorer (1779-1813) of Pike’s Peak fame. Along with Allen Street, which begins a block north, the road was widened several decades ago and now sports a modern bicycle path. You can walk in a straight line all the way from here to the Harlem River, as Pike becomes Allen and Allen becomes 1st Avenue.

Turning left on Market Street, I encountered one of the oldest churches in Manhattan at Henry Street, the old Market Street Reformed Church, which was built in 1819. The windows are made up of multiple panels—35 over 35 over 35. This is now the First Chinese Presbyterian Church, which shared the building with the Sea and Land Church until 1972.

The brick and stone Georgian-Gothic church was constructed two centuries ago as the Market Street reformed Church on land owned by Henry Rutgers, and after changing congregations a few times over the years, it’s now the First Chinese Presbyterian Church. It’s in the top five oldest extant church buildings in New York City, the oldest being St. Paul’s Chapel on Broadway and Vesey St.

Every time I’m in the area, I check on Mechanics Alley, which runs on the west side of the Manhattan Bridge anchorage for 2 blocks between Madison and Henry Streets. Though it has obtained a more narrow sense, the word “mechanic” originally meant an artisan, builder or craftsman, not necessarily a machinist. No property fronts on the narrow lane, but trucks nonetheless employ it despite its narrowness to avoid heavier traffic on streets like Market.

I did a pretty comprehensive post on Mechanics Alley and its history a few years ago in FNY.

Market Street contains a number of historic and classic buildings along its short stretch between East Broadway and South Street. Here’s #40 market on the corner of Madison, which still has its original entrance woodwork as well as the street identification brownstone plaques. The Market Street side looks as if it has had some ad hoc repairs done sometime in the past.

375 Pearl Street, otherwise known as the Verizon Building, a.k.a. the Intergate Center, looms at the west end of Monroe Street. Many call it the ugliest building in Manhattan, though I’ve seen far worse. In 2016 it was renovated and received a new bank of windows.

This shabby brick building at 51 Market St. was constructed in 1824 by merchant William Clark. Its original elegant doorway, with Ionic columns, a fanlight and ornamentation, has survived nearly two centuries. A close look at the basement windows shows them to be surrounded with brownstone work with squiggly lines, known in the architecture world as “Gibbs surrounds.” A fourth floor, which studiously copied the original three, was added after the Civil War. The stoop and railings, however, are not original as they were replaced in 2010. The door is festooned with graffiti, and though the house has Landmark status, its condition appears deteriorated.

Amid the Chinese-language signs on Market and Madison, at the edge of Chinatown, is this neon sign for a long-gone liquor store.

At #47 Market Street is a venerable brick building that conveniently lists the date of construction, 1886, at the roofline.

Faces peer out from the front of this Madison Street apartment. Many of these buildings, and those on paralleling Monroe and Henry Streets, were built in the 1880s, when such embellishments were found on just about every building, commercial or residential.

The undulating exterior of #8 Spruce Street, officially New York By Gehry, named for architect Frank Gehry, is the architect’s signature NYC building. Like it or not, it’s instantly recognizable from all over lower Manhattan. After its completion in 2011, it was NYC’s tallest residential building for a couple of years, but has since been surpassed by buildings like 432 Park.

The Roman Catholic parish of St. Joseph (“San Giuseppe”) was established by the Missionaries of St. Charles, an order of priests and brothers founded by Blessed John Baptist Scalabrini in 1887 to serve the needs of Italian immigrants. The present church was designed by Matthew W. Del Gaudio and opened in 1924. Shortly after the founding of the parish, the Scalabrinians were joined by the Apostles of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, who helped open St. Joseph School in 1926.

Today, St. Joseph Church is a national parish designated as an Italian and Chinese parish. The parish continues the mission of the Church of St. Joachim, located at 26 Roosevelt Street until the 1960s, which was founded by the Missionaries of St. Charles who arrived in New York City in 1889. Immediately after, Mother Cabrini was welcomed by the same church as she arrived in the United States. American Guild of Organists, NYC Chapter

Speaking of the Scalabrinians, in January 2018 I visited their former bailiwick, St. Charles Seminary in Todt Hill, Staten Island, which had been the estate of architect Ernest Flagg.

Catherine Street classics, near Madison Street.

Madison and Oliver Streets. Al Smith (1873-1944), a four-time NYS governor and failed presidential candidate, was born on Oliver, a still-existing street between the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges, neither of which had opened when he was born. He was one of NYC’s most popular politicians in history.

On a walk up the Lower East Side in January 2013, I encountered an anachronistic building that I either hadn’t seen or hadn’t noticed before, on Madison Street a few doors away from St. James Place. It’s a tiny two-story dormered building — however, it’s not too small that it doesn’t have two separate doors and two separate house numbers, 47 and 49. I’ve always been curious about anachronisms and survivors, being something of an anachronism myself, so I looked it up. Expecting a difficult or fruitless search, I found something by the historian David Freeland, who rote about it in 2009 in the now-defunct New York Press:

For years the house has been something of a mystery, but one glimpse into its colorful history is revealed through a small advertisement from the Spirit of the Times newspaper, as reprinted in the Boston Herald of March 2, 1853: “Rat Killing, and other sports, every Monday evening. A good supply of rats kept constantly on hand for gentlemen wishing to try their dogs, with the use of the pit gratis, at J. Marriott’s Sportsman’s Hall, 49 Madison Street.”

Rat baiting, setting rats against rats, or dogs against rats, was a popular betting sport in the 19th Century in the days before the ASPCA. The building where another former rat baiting establishment was run by Kit Burns, the Captain Joseph Rose House, still stands at 273 Water Street in the Seaport area.

Freeland goes on:

By the late 1850s, the house at 49 Madison Street had been taken over by English-born Harry Jennings, who ran it as a combination saloon and rat-fighting pit until his conviction on a robbery charge sent him to prison in Massachusetts. But later, after returning to New York, Jennings settled into a kind of respectability, winning fame as a dog trainer and, eventually, the city’s leading rat exterminator. By the time of his death, in 1891, Jennings’ clients included Delmonico’s Restaurant and such luxury hotels as Gilsey House and the original Plaza.

Apparently, there’s a comeback in everybody.

The dark shadows of January intrude on the intersection of James and Madison Streets, one of the few intersections in NYC where both street names make up a US President’s first and second name. I’m sure it wasn’t planned that way, though.

We can see St. James Church, the second oldest building associated with the Roman Catholic Church in NYC. (Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Mott and Prince Streets, built in 1810, precedes it.) The fieldstone, Doric-columned Greek Revival building was begun in 1835 and completed in 1837; and though it is thought to be a design of famed architect Minard Lefever, there is no evidence to support the claim. A domed cupola above the sanctuary was removed decades ago. This was the boyhood parish of Al Smith, and New Bowery, which connects Pearl Street and Chatham Square, was renamed for it in 1947.

The massive Chatham Green development, located along St. James Place between Madison Street and Chatham Square, opened in 1960, was one of the projects that eliminated much of the ancient street grid in lower Manhattan, as well as the last remnants of the Five Points slum. But on those streets were located dark, noisome and cold tenements, and Chatham Green was constructed by the City in an effort to make middle-income peoples’ lives better. As we know, that effort has had mixed results.

Chatham Green went condo several years ago, with hefty prices, somewhat belying its original purposes.

This triangular-shaped building comes to a point at St. James Place and Madison Street. As I have noted, St. lames Place, laid out in the mid-1850s, was originally called New Bowery, but the designation must have been fluid at one time, as the chiseled street sign on the building simply has “Bowery.”

One Police Plaza, along Madison Street and Park Row (both closed to regular traffic) opened in 1973, is the headquarters of the NY Police Department; it took over from the old domed HQ, now a condo conversion at Centre and Broome Streets. It was designed by Gruzen and Partners in a Brutalist style and sits near the assorted city and state court buildings at Foley Square.

The NYC Municipal Building was constructed in 1914 from plans by McKim, Mead & White; it now houses only a fraction of the city offices that oversee the functioning of the metropolis. Particularly attractive is the row of freestanding columns, the extensive sculpture work and the lofty colonnaded tower topped by Adolph Weinman’s 25-fot high gilt statue of Civic Fame.

I have happy memories of the building since on October 23, 2006 I spent a half hour with Brian Lehrer on WNYC-radio discussing Forgotten NY the Book, and temporarily, my Amazon sales jumped into the 500s (by contrast, 12 years later, I’m in the 300,000s usually).

The sculptures on the north arch include allegorical representations of Progress, Civic Duty, Guidance, Executive Power, Civic Pride and Prudence. Between the windows on the second floor are symbols of various city departments. Note the collection of plaques, among which is the “triple X” emblem of Amsterdam, Holland. Chambers Street once passed through the building and once went all the way to Chatham Square but the NYC Police Dept complex was built over its path in the 1960s. —Gerard Wolfe

The fortress-like, business-themed Murray Bergtraum High School was built at Madison Street and Robert F. Wagner Senior Place, adjacent to Brooklyn Bridge off-ramps, in 1976. It’s named for a former president of the NYC Board of Ed., between 1969 and 1971. Noted alumni include entertainers John Leguizamo and Damon Wayans.

Rose Street, once chockablock with tenements, is a curved street running under the Brooklyn Bridge connecting Gold and Madison Streets. It was named for late 18th-early 19th Century merchant and distiller Captain Joseph Rose, whose house still stands nearby on Water Street. I discussed Rose Street at length on this FNY page.

Though I continued into the Seaport area, it’s a busy weekend and I’ll wrap things up for now.

Please help contribute to a new Forgotten NY website

Check out the ForgottenBook, take a look at the gift shop, and as always, “comment…as you see fit.”

1/6/19

Source: http://forgotten-ny.com/2019/01/between-the-bridges/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

0 notes

dexcidium · 7 years

Text

A Gift...

{In reference to my last drabble, here. And an actual intended (This time around) gift for the birthday girl, @afleurdelish. I hope you enjoy it!}

“Right, now that the introduction is over... It’s time for what you’ve probably all been the most curious about. The summoning…” Gudao looks at the command seals behind his hand for a brief moment, reminiscing about the first time he laid his eyes upon them. It had been so long ago yet, he remembered it so clearly. It was one hell of a day after all… It was the beginning of the end of the world at that time. Yet, they managed to pull through by some miracle. He scoffs at himself, thinking about how old he’s gotten… he’s about the doctor’s age back when they had first met. Time sure had flown… even if it was his job to fix exactly that. Gudao looks backs at the new batch, another forty-eight masters. All of them had curious looks on their eyes… they have it good. Of course, he had checked for any tampering or signs of sabotage himself… for the last month in fact. He never did get rid of that sense paranoia. It was all for this moment… it was another beginning.

“Now remember… when you summon your servant, you are effectively summoning a familiar. HOWEVER. They are very much human. And I expect you all to treat them that way. While their powers far exceed ours, and while you do have the command seals; a master and a servant must be mentally equal. But that’s only one of the many things to keep in mind. If I find anyone misusing or mistreating their servants, your command seals will be confiscated immediately and you will be put in probation for a certain amount of time. Make no mistake… we aren’t here to play around.” Though, he often did back then. “As of now, you are only allowed one servant. However, the FATE system can support multiple servants onto one master. I, myself had hundreds.” Loud gasps were audible, murmurs, and scoffs of disbelief.

“Silence.”

His voice was stern and commanding… this was one of the things he had gained after years of being a master. And they did. These punks were nothing compared to heroic spirits. Headaches always came in the form in the pink-haired Paladin back in the day…

“So let us get started. It’s time to summon. To summon, we use an energy source known as saint quartz. When I started, we needed four whole ones, but the system eventually became more efficient and we got it down to three, now you guys are stupidly lucky because we only need one now.” He shudders at the memories of spending long days finding these… such was life. “Now, let’s begin…!?” Gudao stops… no, the very world that he existed in stopped. He was the only one moving. His eyes darted around the room, he had checked…! He had different magi, all with different specialties to check but –

Calm thy self.

Ahuhu~ My, you’re still as cute as ever~ I can’t wait to play with you again~

You were always like that. You haven’t changed one bit from your past self, haven’t you, mongrel?

“…Huh?” Those were voices… familiar voices. Those were… King Hassan, Queen Medb and King Gilgamesh but…? “Wha… what’s happening?”. The adult male was confused. It had been a while since he had encountered anything as ridiculous as this situation.

KAKAKAKAKA! Young man, you never change, do you?

M’lord, you gotta learn to lighten up! How can you face these not-so-great kiddies with that dumb-looking face!?

Ara? You look so old now! Old enough to have a drink with me, eh?

“What… Li, Yan Qing and… Jing Ke?” He could still tell apart their voices, even after all these years. Gudao started to become overwhelmed with emotion. “But… but how? How do you even remember me!?”.

Ah, that? Don’t worry bout’ it kiddo!

Setanta… be quiet. You… you still do not comprehend the power of the grail? Well… it’s much more than that this time around…

It is as the Queen says… we are here because of several different powers. Though, it is only our voices.

“Cu…. Shishou and Diarmuid!? Is everyone here?”

Indeed, my disciple! You better have been keeping up with your training!

Yes, it is as the monk says. Your muscles must surely be of the best quality now, yes?

Boss! Ya’ gotta be MAXIMUM GOLDEN now, ya’ know? Ya’ must be!

“Sanzou-chan… Leonidas and Kintoki…” Gudao’s voice began to soften up, being even more overcome with emotion. He though that he would never get to hears such voices again. Yet, here he stood.

Praetor! Thou beauty has only increased with age! Umu! You are most suitable to be my husband.

Mikon~. Wait a minute, wait a minute! Don’t get ahead of yourself you harlot! Darling~ hello~!

Popular as ever, eh? Man, women just flock to you.

“Nero… Tamamo… oh and hi Robin, snarky as ever I see. So… is anyone going to explain what’s happening?”

I shall begin to explain. Yes, we have been allowed by the grail, as well as Gaia itself to communicate with you.

Like I, it seems you too have been recognised as an awarded hero. Your reward was our voices. And something more.

UuuuuUuuuu… He…ro… lo…ve…

“It’s nice to hear your voices again Karna, Arjuna… Fran-chan….”

How do you do, young man? It is I, the great Okita-san coming at you at the speed of so-GOHO!?

Sakura Saber…. A gag character all the way through, eh?

Okita! SAY WITH IT A PROPER VOICE! YOU TOO, ARE PART OF THE SHINSEGUMI, AS IS THAT BOY OVER THERE!

Ah~ It’s you again! Ne, ne! You have to tell me all about the new JK stuff these days!

A slight giggle came from the master. “It seems none of you have changed, eh? Okita-san, Nobu, Hijikata-san and… please stop talking about weird high school stuff, Suzuka. At my age that’s just really creepy…”

Sorry… We must interrupt. Our time is short.

Indeed… Boy, we must impart to you this gift.

Yes… thank you for protecting the smiles of the children… along with their future.

“Still apologising first and foremost, eh? Siegfried… Hello Uncle Vlad! And Atalanta, I hope your ears are still as soft as ever.”

Oi, oi, oi! Stop flirtin’ with everything you see! Your wife’s gonna get angry at you, ya’ know?

Indeed, m’lord. Please do not follow in the footsteps of the most foolish of Knights.

Wha- insulting me in front of…! Bah! It doesn’t matter. Mashu! How is Mashu!?

Please stop fighting… He’s watching…

Sad… how sad… Yet, our reunion has also made me happy…!

Hah… I’m sorry that the Knights are like this. They’re still as rowdy as you remember them, Gudao. I hope you are well.

“Doing just fine and dandy, thanks. Mashu’s as happy as ever. She works at a different branch from me but I still see her often. Mordred, Gawain, Lancelot, Bedivere… Artoria.” A small smile formed at their antics.

KAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! YOU SHINE AS BRIGHT AS THE SUN, YOUNG MAN! ALMOST AS BRIGHT AS I, RAMSE-

Oh Gudao~ I hope you’re doing just fine. It’s been awhile hasn’t it~?

Ei! I hope you have outgrown your sloppiness! I won’t forgive you if your room is still in the same state as when I last cleaned it!

“…O great Pharaohs, it’s been awhile. Ozymandias, Cleopatra… and yes, Nitocris. I have grown up to be a proper adult.” Again, he couldn’t help but giggle.

Time is of the essence, I’m afraid. Gudao… we will give you this one last piece of knowledge. The greatest gift that you could have asked for… from our hearts, to yours.

Yes. We impart to you, the knowledge that should you summon us once more, we will retain our memories of you. And our time in Chaldea

Yes… god’s grace is truly upon us. This is a gift for saving the world. I had hoped to meet you once more, Gudao. Hallelujah!

“…! Is that true? Oh thank you so much for this, Amakusa, George, Martha!”. He had shouted with glee. He had thought that something like that was impossible. But here they were… truly, he had been given all that he had ever wanted once more but… there was one thing missing.

…You’re wondering where that woma- my sister is, aren’t you? You horny pig…

Ou! Boy, the Saint of Orleans isn’t here with us.

That’s right, Gudao. She’s been waiting. Waiting to be summoned once more.

Hohoho… of course, we let her through first. This was one intruder that I’d let pass the gate…

Gudao’s eyes widened had she truly been…? “Nice to hear from you again, Jeanne Alter. I see that sister thing stuck, eh? And my King, Iskandar! EMIYA! Sasaki… I hope to rely on you all again.” Tears welled up in his eyes out of pure happiness. This was something he would have never

Yes… we await our summoning. Truly, you are the most worthy to summon us…

Master…!

They… all of them, his beloved servants, had said in unison. Like a chaotic, beautiful mess. Just as they were in life.

And with a big flash of white light that had enveloped the room, there, a glowing figure stood. Gudao’s eyes slowly opened, expecting to see a young blonde woman… with golden hair that shone brighter than anything else… with eyes that could pierce through his soul… and a gentle aura that could soothe him with her very presence. The woman he expected was to be clad in armour but… instead he was met with white. A white gown… a white wedding gown with a white veil…. And a beautiful bouquet of flowers in her hands, her long, silky hair tied up into the familiar braid he knew, draping down the side of her shoulder. Her presence was indeed soothing… but to him, it was so much more.

“I ask thee…”

The woman began to spoke with a serious, yet gentle face.

“Are you worthy to be my husband?” A wide, blinding smile had formed on hear beautiful face, tears of joy in her eyes.

A step.

“…”

Another.

“I…”

And one last step to meet her…

“I do believe so… Jeanne.”

Thus, his story began once more.

No…

His story has long since ended.

It was their story….

Bliss…

#[...drabbles]#{ashdahsdgads FOR YOU NAT. SUFFERING PART 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO}#[...you are my dream || Jeanne D'arc]#afleurdelish

16 notes · View notes

domestic-harry · 7 years

Note

Hey Lisa, sorry to bother you but can you recommend some fan fics with a happy ending? Haha it's just I'm such a coward 😭

Feel Good Fics!

Atlas At Last : He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

This Wicked Game : An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

Finding Lou : Louis is the nomadic stranger who wanders into Harry’s bookstore. Harry is the skeptic who falls for him.

Speaking Of Marvels : AU. Louis is a nanny in suburban New Jersey, and the neighbors’ son is home from college for the summer. It was supposed to be a fling.

Bloodline : Louis doesn’t know how to feel when his best friend, Liam, finds out about a brother that he never knew, who was placed for adoption before he was born and is bursting into his life at twenty-four years old. Louis is very wary of the man who might replace him. He has always thought of Liam as his own brother. What if Liam doesn’t need him anymore? What if there’s no room for Louis? After all, blood runs thicker than water. Louis doesn’t like Liam’s new brother and he doesn’t even know him. That’s irrelevant, though. He doesn’t like him. He doesn’t trust him. He doesn’t want him hanging around. He doesn’t want anything to do with him.That is, until he meets him.

Escapade : In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He’s rich. He’s handsome. He’s reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

Loving You Is Free : Louis is a workaholic record label CEO who hasn’t been on a date in nearly a year. Niall and Liam make an account for him on a sugar dating website as a joke. And then Louis meets Harry.

Here In The Afterglow : 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

May We Stay Lost On Our Way Home : Harry thought he had a handle on things. He hasn’t gotten papped in over a month, even the most zealous of fans have given up on finding his location, the Fortress is starting to look hospitable, and Niall just learned how to make shrimp bisque. Even having a massive crush on a gorgeous mythical woodland creature was working out for him.

Wild and Unruly : Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

Let’s Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay : A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis’ life upside down.

Through Eerie Chaos : For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast : A Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Have Faith In Me : As the son of Anne Styles, millionaire owner of one of the world’s most luxurious fashion labels, Harry has spent his last seventeen years living in carefree extravagance. And now he’s grown tired of it, along with the pressure from his mum to follow in her footsteps and the constant care given to him by her past assistants.

When his mum’s newest assistant, Louis, moves into the guesthouse, Harry determines to be treated differently. To be treated like an adult. Except Louis is not at all what Harry was expecting…

This is a story about growing up, growing in love and having the faith to make it last.

Walk That Mile : A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

The Lonely Planet Guide to Second Chances : When Harry and Louis broke up, the last thing on Harry’s mind was the non-refundable surprise trip he had booked for them across Europe. Harry was supposed to be moving on, not sightseeing with his ex. In hindsight, touring the continent with Louis was probably a bad idea. So naturally, that’s exactly what Harry did.

Or, the breakup travel fic featuring romantic sunsets, awkward bed sharing, and second chances against a backdrop of some of Europe’s most iconic cities.

#tbh all fics i read have a happy ending but these have the least amount of angst #or they made me cry because I was so happy by the end (AHEM HITA)#asks #fic rec

28 notes · View notes

adothoe-archive · 7 years

Text

Helpless (Semester 1.5)

This is (kind of) a sequel to Before the End of the Semester and All’s Fair (Semester 2). It takes place a little bit before the start of Semester 1 and ends right up to the beginning of the library smut from Alex’s POV.

Pairing: Alexander Hamilton x Reader

Warning: pining

Kink Tag: none

AU: modern/college au

Word Count: 2471

Song: “Touch” - Little Mix

A/N: Yes, I haven’t updated in 500 years, and yes this is hella late and the write-a-thon is over BUT this is for day 5 of the @hamwriters Write-A-Thon for reverse pov day. All french translated for me by my platonic soulmate @manuelmirandamn hope you enjoy!!!

A note from Mackie who proofread for me: “i read this as “on my sexual life” bc im taking french rn and I started cackling because i thought it was like “i swear on my life” but it’s alex’s sexual life” - about a line in french @protecting-my-legacy

Alex dropped the last of his bags on his bed, looking around the room to figure out what order he should organize his things in. Move in day was always hectic and stressful but you’d think after two years of college, he’d have it down already.

A loud bang and a strong French accent coming from down the hall notified him that Gilbert had just arrived. Smiling, he walked out of his room and down the hall to Gil’s.

“Nice flight,” he asked, leaning against the door frame. “Alexander! Mon meilleur ami!” He grinned and opened his arms wide for a hug which Alex happily obliged. Gil’s hugs were the best.

“How was France?”

“Incroyable. All the cousins were there and ma grandmére. She makes the best chocolatines. I had some shipped over for you guys. Your life will change forever.”

Alex laughed. He missed Gil and all his friends when they were on break but especially Gil. His life was boring without Gil’s drama in it.

“Did you get your class schedule?”

“‘Did you,’ is the more important question. Will we have to suffer through yet another semester of you pining after Y/N?”

“I don’t pine. And, yes, but I don’t know what her schedule is.”

Gil raised an eyebrow as he folded a shirt. “You mean you didn’t ask your dad?”

“George isn’t my dad-”

“He adopted you when you were fourteen-”

“He’s not my dad.”

“Fine. You didn’t ask Washington to find out for you?”

“No.” Another eyebrow raise. “Fine, yes.”

“Et?”

Alex ran a hand through his hair. “We’re in the same classes again. But I’m over it. It’s been a long summer and I’m only focused on getting valedictorian.”

“Give it five minutes into your first class and you’ll be at each other’s throats.”

He rolled his eyes. “I think I have more self control than that.”

“You two have been hurling insults at each other and debating like it’s a courtroom for two years straight. That’s not going to stop overnight. Or over a summer.”

“Whatever-”

“Non, mon ami. This has been a thing for two years. We’re getting you two together.”

Alex groaned. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t. Seriously.”

“Pourquois pas?” (Why not?)

“Parce que je ne veux pas qu’elle pense que je suis amoureux d’elle ou quelque chose.” (Because I don’t want her to think I’m in love with her or anything.)

“Bien, es-tu?” (Well, are you?)

“C’est sans importance.” (That’s irrelevant.)

“Dieu, tu es!” (Oh my god, you are!)

“Est-ce que ça importe? Elle me deteste.” (Does it matter? She hates me.)

“La haine et la tension sexuelle est un ligne fine, mon ami.” (Hate and sexual tension is a fine line, my friend.)

“Alors?” (So?)

“Nous allons faire un pari.” (We’ll make a bet.)

“Sur ma vie sexuelle. Je ne me suis jamais sentie plus fraîche.” (About my sex life. I’ve never felt cooler.)

“Tu l’aures cependant.” (But you’ll get her.)

Alex found that very hard to believe.

By the first day of classes, Gil’s bet had already spread across campus and several people had come up to him to ask him to seduce Y/N on a specific day. Alex was growing tired of it. There was no need for the bet and he was going to prove it by being nice.

It turned out to be difficult since as soon as he spoke up, you responded with absolute venom.

“Here we are again, Y/L/N,” he said, smiling a little to show he held no animosity. “I’m curious to see how your debating skills have improved over the summer.”

“You have yet to beat me in a debate so maybe I should be saying that to you, Hamilton.” Y/N smirked.

Alex turned around with a frown, intent on ignoring you for the rest of the class when George walked in and announced that they would be working in partners.

For the whole semester.

Alex hated group projects. No one ever pulled their weight or was able to keep up with him and he ended up doing all of the work while his partners got credit.

And then the worst possible thing happened.

“Y/N Y/L/N and Alexander Hamilton. Find your seats please.”

George expected him to work with you for an entire semester? He was definitely going to talk to him about this after class.

But first, he had the absolute joy of dealing with you. He sent you a smirk, knowing you hated this just as much as he did but not willing to let that show, and moved his bag off the seat next to him. Just to annoy you, he patted the seat in a silent command to sit.

If you weren’t going to try to be nice, neither was he. And he was the best asshole anywhere around when he tried.

As the class shuffled out of the room, you particularly fast without even looking at the country assignment sheet, Alex made his way to George’s desk at the front of the room.

“Yes, Alex?”

“I need a new partner.”

He sighed and looked up from his syllabus on the desk. “Did I or did I not say partners were final and not up to your choosing?”

“Okay, but this is a different situation-”

“You expect me to give you special treatment because you’re my son?”

“I’m not your son.” A pained look flashed across George’s face but it was gone in an instant. What he said was true so Alex wasn’t very concerned and he blazed on. “Y/N and I have a history of blowing up at each other. We can’t work together.”

“You two are the smartest kids in this class. You just have to work together, not socialize.”

“But-”

“No but’s. And, anyway, I thought you’d be happy about this. I only put you together because your friend Gilbert said you’d like it.”

Alex groaned. Of course Gil had something to do with this. “Please, just change it.”

“I can’t do that, son. If I did it for you, everyone else would want a new partner too.” George looked over him quickly as if he wanted to say something else but changed his mind. “I think you’ll work well together. I did give you the best country.” He smiled and picked up his briefcase, leaving the classroom.

Alex put the strap of his bag over his shoulder and walked over to the paper that held your assignment. After finding both of your names and the country across from it, he quickly exited the building to try to catch up with you. He wasn’t going to let his grade suffer because you didn’t know what the project was on.

“So you have her number?”

“Yes, Gil, I have her number.”

“That was faster than I expected,” commented John.

Alex glared and whipped him with the dish towel on the counter. “You act like I have no game. I’ve had more sex than all of you combined.”

“Yes, Alex, we’re surprised you don’t have a multitude of STD’s either.”

“Oh, shut up, Herc.”

“I think what they meant,” Gil paused to taste the sauce he had simmering on the stove, “was that for two years you’ve been stuck arguing with her in the friendzone and now you have her number.”

“I don’t think you can call it the friendzone if they weren’t friends.” John laughed.

“Okay, the only reason I need her number is because George paired us together for a project that lasts the entire semester.”

“I think you would be happy about that, non?”

“George told me you did this, Gil-”

“I simply made a suggestion-”

“Why are you even fighting about this,” asked John. “You want to be with her, don’t you? Or at least fuck her?”

“Yeah-”

“Then being partners with her and Gil’s bet should be things that make you happy. He seems to be doing most of the work for you, by the way.”

“Yeah, why haven’t you entered the pool,” asked Herc.

“Because it’s childish-”

“Come on, mon petite lion, take a bet and surprise us at how fast you can get in her pants.”

“Um, it’s ‘make a bet,’ Gil-” A wooden spoon hit the back of his head and John promptly cut himself off.

Alex rolled his eyes at his friends. “Fine. I’ll make a bet.”

Herc got out his legal pad and flipped a few pages, then looked up, pen poised over the paper. “So?”

“Holy shit, how many people have made bets?”

“Around 500 people-”

“What?”

“What’s your bet, Ham?”

Alex grumbled and crossed his arms. “Before the end of our first project.”

“That’s like a few weeks, Lex-”

“Shut up, John.” John held his hands up and walked to the stove to try to steal some of the pancetta Gil was frying before being shooed away.

And Alex’s thoughts returned to you.

“We’re calling the bet off.” Alex dropped his bag on the ground and slumped in a chair at the kitchen table.

“Poor Alex, can’t get into one girl’s pants.” John laughed as he bit into an apple.

“Just because it’s taking longer than half an hour to get her to fuck you, doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Yet.”

Gil glared at Herc and John. “We’re not stopping the bet, Alex. We’ve already got almost two grand in the pot.”

Alex eyes widened and he sat up to look at his friends. “You’re serious?”

“As the plague.” Herc slid his legal pad with the bets on it across the table to Alex.

“Why the fuck is everyone so interested in this?”

John shrugged. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“Literally everyone sees the sexual tension, Ham.” Herc took his legal pad back and started crossing off dates that already happened.

Gil handed him a plate with a chocolatine on it. “What made you want to shut it down?”

Alex sighed and chewed the pastry. “She wouldn’t stop ragging on me. Literally everything I did she had something to say about it. I really think it’s only hate she feels for me-”

“I don’t think so,” said John. “Her best friend’s sister told me Y/N thinks you’re cute.”

“Cute?”

“Well, not in those exact words-”

“That’s one word, John.”

He rolled his eyes. “Apparently Y/N goes home with Angelica on the weekends and they have a cliche sleepover and talk about boys. I’m friends with Angelica’s sister Peggy so she told me.”

Gil leaned against the kitchen counter and looked at John. “What did she say exactly?”

“Peggy told me Y/N said that she’d find him attractive if he weren’t so infuriating all the time. Him being Alex-”

Herc snorted. “Yeah, we got that.”

“I bet she likes you, Alex.” Gil smirked.

“Can we stop with the bets? One is enough.” Alex rubbed his face. “You can keep the bet going but I’m not trying anymore.”

“Alex-”

“No. I’m done.”

Alex picked up his bag and went upstairs, trying his best to fall asleep and not dream about you.

The last two nights, Alex hadn’t been able to sleep and tonight was going to be no exception. Last night and the night before, he’d been able to distract himself with work until he passed out from exhaustion around six in the morning. But tonight, he had already read through all of his textbooks and he was finished with every single assignment he could possibly complete except for his Model U.N. project with you.

Which made him think of you.

All night.

Alex’s inner monologue was like a Nicholas Sparks movie had a baby with Valentine’s Day with just a dash of hope.

He liked you. He knew that. And he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit it was more than that, but he couldn’t make himself think it or he’d be crushed when you rejected him. Because you hated him.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes before checking the clock on his nightstand.

2:03 AM.

It was going to be a long night and an even longer semester trying to hide his feelings for the girl that hated him.

Alex showed up early to the study room this time, trying to avoid being yelled at again. Yawning, he finished his umpteenth coffee of the day and threw it in the trash can in the corner.

He knew he probably looked like shit. No sleep did that to you. He shouldn’t have cared but he did anyway. Knowing you, you’d probably show up looking gorgeous without even trying.

Alex sighed and pulled up the google doc the both of you had been planning on when you walked in the room.

“You’re late.” He didn’t want to look at you. He’d lose all focus and it’d just be more ammo for future arguments.

“So were you last time.”

Alex finally looked up to try and form an argument but you were wearing his favorite dress of yours and your hair was down, giving him just the smallest peek of your neck and was this what it’s like to be speechless?

You smirked and sat down across from him, saying something he only heard the tail end of.

“…everyone else doing? I assume you know.”

Alex shook his head to get some very embarrassing thoughts out and nervously clicked his pen.

“Well, Russia’s doing Aleppo.”

“You’re kidding me. Do they even know what’s going on in Aleppo?”

He tried to strike up an argument since he utterly failed when you came in. “Do you?”

You glared and began speaking about your plan to help Syria and Alex knew you were going to change the world someday. That you were probably smarter than him, and that he couldn’t deny he was in love with you.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or that he couldn’t hold it in anymore but what he said next was definitely the most impulsive thing he’d ever done.

“…I could kiss you right now.”

And he definitely did not expect the response he got.

“So what’s stopping you?”

He tried to banter for awhile, but his heart wasn’t in it and he was entirely too distracted by your open invitation to kiss you. And your legs… No one had the right to have legs that enticing.

And then you sat on his lap and his entire mind went blank. The only thing he could do when you asked him for a yes was to nod his head.

He never expected to ever not be fighting with you. He never imagined he’d be this close. Never thought that he’d be able to touch you. And never, ever believed he’d be kissing you.

Which he did. Passionately.

And he’d keep doing that for as long as you’d let him.

#hamilton #alexander hamilton x reader #hamilton x reader #alexander hamilton #alexander hamilton imagine #alexander

142 notes · View notes

topmixtrends · 6 years

Link

FEW VICTIMS of mass murder have been as ridiculed as much as the victims of Jim Jones. The November 18, 1978 killings — in which more than 900 Americans were forced to drink a cyanide-laced punch by their preacher and his gun-toting thugs — left us with the phrase, “Don’t drink the Kool-Aid,” yet few young people are aware of its tragic origin. Tossed about by politicians, activists, and academics alike, the phrase is meant as a warning against groupthink or uncritical thought. But the phrase is doubly wrong: the residents did not drink Kool-Aid, they drank a knockoff called “Flavor Aid”; moreover, their only choice on that fatal night was death — by either poison or bullet. Leaving Jonestown alive was not an option.

In my own book, A Thousand Lives: The Untold Story of Jonestown, I trace the experiences of five people who were drawn to Jones’s progressive church, Peoples Temple, out of desperation or idealism and narrate what happened once Jones cloistered them in Guyana and brought up his idea of “revolutionary suicide” for the first time.

Likewise, Judy Bebelaar and Ron Cabral’s book, And Then They Were Gone, traces the fate of a group of teenagers who attended the progressive Opportunity II High School in San Francisco where they taught and ended up in Jonestown. (Bebelaar taught creative writing and Cabral taught journalism and coached the baseball team.) A third of the Jonestown victims were children — which makes the Kool-Aid phrase all the more odious and cruel.

Bebelaar and Cabral humanize these kids by including a selection of their poems — some of which hint at darkness — and sharing anecdotes that emphasize their buoyant adolescent spirits and dreams for the future. We can’t go back and save them from a drug-addled madman, but we can honor them by reading their poetry and learning about their small rebellions and impulses that are common to the human experience everywhere. I spoke with Bebelaar about this.

JULIA SCHEERES: Why did you write this book? I’m especially curious why you began it so long after the deaths in Jonestown.

JUDY BEBELAAR: The “why” is complicated. After the first reports of 400 dead, I felt just a crushing grief, but held some hope too: some of our students must have survived, as there were almost a thousand people in Jonestown. But over the days following November 18, the number of dead swelled to 918, and the names of so many kids we teachers knew appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle. I still have those yellowed newspaper pages. I thought of our Temple students a great deal, especially every year when November 18 neared, but nothing occurred to me that I could do. None of us at the school, I think, knew what to do with our sense of loss.

Then, in 2006, Ron called me to say he’d seen The People’s Temple, at the Berkeley Repertory Theater, the apostrophe in the title added to the official Church name to show it was the story of the Temple that belonged to its people, not Jones’s Temple. Ron thought we could write a book honoring our students in a similar way. At first, we just wanted to let people know that the kids from the Temple did not have much choice about going, and that they were much like other teenagers, except perhaps for their apparent color blindness when it came to race. That, and the fact that they were at school every day, eager to participate, unlike some of our “old students,” who had fallen into a habit of cutting, and out of the habit of doing homework. But like other young people — a reason I’ve always loved teaching — the Temple kids were full of idealism and energy. That must have been why Jones wanted so many young people in Jonestown: he needed their strength and resilience. But those first simple reasons have been transformed over the years spent working on the book.

Tell me more about Opportunity High — who were the students?

The first Opportunity High was a San Francisco public school designed by teachers who were passionate about teaching and determined to find ways to reach students who weren’t making it in regular schools. It was one of many alternative schools generated by the “free school movement” of the ’60s. Opportunity’s founding teachers, including me, came from a graduate teacher training program at UC Berkeley. Many of us had switched to education from other graduate programs because we had decided becoming a teacher was the best way to foster “change from within.” Then we planned a second school: Opportunity II was our second attempt to get the formula right.

Did the school parallel the era’s emphasis on social justice?

The staff reflected the spirit of the times, as did many of the students, who chose to come to the school not because they were in danger of dropping out, but because they wanted a different, more relevant kind of education. We took field trips and embarked on “real world” projects such as Ron’s student radio show and the Sociology class field trip to interview farm workers in Delano. Many of the kids had never been outside the city, so we took trips to places like Yosemite and Monterey. We tried to give students choices for required classes like English. For example, Native American Literature was a class students requested I teach. Ron and I published student writing in Journalism and Creative Writing classes.

You lived in the Bay Area when the Peoples Temple came to power. What was it about the times and the political climate here that allowed Jones to become so prominent a player?

People were exploring a “New Age” array of alternative spiritual paths, looking for some way back to the optimism of the ’60s as they morphed into the darker, more violent ’70s. Peoples Temple was a truly integrated church, with singing, dancing, and good works: helping seniors, participating in protests, raising money to keep a medical clinic open and supporting our PBS station, among many other projects. Much of that work was done by the young. Jones was good at charming and impressing people and had won over most of the progressive politicians in the city and the state: Willie Brown, Jerry Brown, San Francisco mayor George Moscone, to name just a few. Jane Fonda attended a Church service and sent a thank-you note. Rosalynn Carter met with Jones briefly. A huge testimonial dinner was given to honor Jones in October ’77. Angela Davis, Eldridge Cleaver, John and Phillip Burton came, as well as the mayor and state senators. Cecil Williams presented a plaque from Glide Church. Jones had convinced everyone that he and his Church brought “hope and love” (words on another plaque) to the city.

How did your new principal, Yvonne Golden, come to admire Jones as much as she obviously does in the book?

Golden had called Cecil Williams, Glide Church’s charismatic minister, her “number one” agent for social change, but after visiting Peoples Temple, announced Jones had taken that place. Jones, like Golden was a declared socialist, and she admired that, but I think she also saw his political savvy. He could bring a crowd. He could get letters written. He could bring out the vote.

And did you see anything that caused you to suspect something was wrong?

Only briefly, and then when I looked at how engaged, happy, and healthy the Temple kids seemed to be, I dismissed my doubts. Only in retrospect did some of the darkness stand out.

We teachers were used to kids who were eager to tell us when something was wrong in their lives. They trusted us and confided in us. But the Temple kids didn’t talk much about their private lives. And I think that probably, they were truly happy to be in our school, which was kind of like a family, as the church was in many ways. Only Amondo Griffith spoke of fear when he wrote, in a poem about being alone in a dark place, talking to himself, and being afraid someone might hear him “say the wrong thing.” I thought of it as his poking fun at himself. It does haunt me, that I didn’t ask him more about what he meant.

When did you realize something sinister was happening in the Temple?

The Temple kids enrolled in our school in September 1976. We didn’t begin to wonder about the church until the reports of terrible things going on behind closed doors began coming out in the summer of 1977: at first a flurry of smaller articles and then the big exposé in New West magazine. Only a few Temple students were pulled out by Jones in the spring of ’77, beginning with Stephan, his only biological son. Later I learned that Stephan was probably sent to Guyana because Jones feared Stephan would defect, as other Temple members had. Jimmy and Tim, his adopted sons, both on the baseball team, were taken next, and Mark Sly told Ron, near the end of school, that he was going — and didn’t want to. Our title comes from the fact that, over that summer, most of the Temple kids simply disappeared in a secretive exodus.

When you reached out to your former students as you were writing the book, did you learn anything about their experience in the Temple that surprised you?

Definitely! We didn’t know, for example, that Temple students weren’t allowed to make friends with the non-Temple students. I learned from two of the “old students” at Opportunity — what we came to call the non-Temple students — that at least two of the teen Church members had broken the rule, in a way that I’m sure now would have resulted in serious punishment, probably a whipping with what Jones called “the board of education,” something else we didn’t know about at the time. The two couples were more than friends: it was young love that brought them together.

The meeting place for such “Romeo and Juliet” couples was the empty art room. Mark Sly had a non-Temple girlfriend, who told me about their relationship. Another “old student,” Carl Ross, told me about his Temple girlfriend, Kimberly. Those stories are part of the book, an early indication that it is not so easy as Jones thought to cow adolescents into submission and what he once guaranteed would be the “perfect comportment” of Temple students. They were good students, always showing up unless they had an excuse from the Temple, doing their homework, contributing to class discussions, showing up for practice, working on the school paper, and writing poetry. But as teenagers, they resisted what they saw as wrong, especially when it came to love. They were finding their ways to the selves they imagined they would be.

Yes, I see that in their poems and the prose they wrote. What can we learn from their writing about their dreams and their fears?

Even more than most kids I have taught, idealism and a belief in the possibility of a world without racism, sexism, or ageism was part of what many Temple kids wrote about. For example, two Temple kids in my reading class, Cornelius Truss and Vance White, wrote a letter to Theodore Taylor, the author of The Cay. It’s the story of an elderly black man who saves the life of a young white boy. Although the boy was raised in a racist household, he comes to love the man. I do have Taylor’s beautiful letter in answer to the kids, who were best buddies, and it’s in the book. They asked him if he thought a world without racism was possible, and how it might come to be. He told them he believed it was, and that he counted on young people like themselves.

There were poems about love too, and loss — and romantic descriptions of a tropical wilderness. We teachers knew little about Jonestown then, but Jones had been rhapsodizing about life in Guyana to his flock. One of our students, Joyce, was one of the best Temple poets. In her poetry, she speaks of the trade winds, rain which “tingles on the roof of the tropic island,” “a clear blue stream / Leading to a little white cottage.” But another poem wonders why she feels “half” instead of whole and asks, “When will I change?” Again, I wondered: was it more than adolescent longing? I invited her to come with me to a poetry reading, but she said she couldn’t. I wish I’d found some other way to talk to Joyce alone. Looking at her pictures, on the cover and inside the book, still breaks my heart.

And what did you learn about your students’ lives in Jonestown?

In addition to what we found in books, I also found, in the California Historical Society’s library, many letters by students about the wonders of Jonestown. But I soon discovered the writing was pretty formulaic, probably assigned. Then I found Temple member Edith Roller’s journals, as you did. She had been at an Opportunity gathering where Jones spoke at the school. He had that talk recorded — as he had many events — and we used the transcript, from Jonestown Institute website for the scene in the book where Jones speaks and presents a check to the baseball team.

Edith was apparently the only one allowed to keep a journal in Jonestown, and I found details about what kids were doing when they weren’t working or attending the Jonestown school: girls “fixing” boys’ hair (a common teen practice in the day, which Jones frowned upon); girls and boys meeting after curfew outside her cottage (which Edith didn’t appreciate). There had been dancing once in the evenings, but Jones put a stop to that (the dust raised was bad for their health, he claimed). I think, as you do, that her journal for the last three months went missing because she was being too honest. Jones wanted to choose what would go down in history. But back to the kids: Stephan sent me one of his pieces, about how the kids managed to have at least one dance party, probably more, in spite of Jones.

So the teenagers found ways to maintain their independent streaks in spite of Jones and the Temple?

Yes. They had the courage to disobey his rules in spite of the danger. The heart of the book is the chapter called, “Precious Acts of Treason,” a phrase from Deborah Layton’s book, Seductive Poison. She uses the term to describe the ways people rebelled in spite of terrible punishments. The young people found many ways to fight back, or ways to escape, like the secret dance party Stephan describes — at least for a time. They managed to be teenagers even in a prison camp. It was one or our students, Monica, who, with her friend Vernon, was brave enough to pass a note to one of the journalists who came to investigate Jonestown which said, “Help us get out of Jonestown.”

I don’t think most in Jonestown, until the end, fully believed Jim Jones would actually carry out his threats of “revolutionary suicide,” which you point out in A Thousand Lives, is a twisting of Huey Newton’s definition of the phrase. There had been many “White Nights” where the topic of death or that of committing suicide for a cause was part of Jones’s message. But those where a substance was drunk had previously turned out to be just a “test of faith.”

Another act of youthful resistance was how Stephan and others convinced Jones that a basketball team would be good PR, in spite of the fact that he opposed organized sport as capitalistic. The team, which included some Cobras, was playing a tournament with the Guyanese team when Jones called them to come back to Jonestown. The boys, convinced it was just another scare tactic, were sure they could win the next game and refused. They had also coalesced in their opposition to Jones, and Stephan was sure that when they got back to Jonestown, the time was ripe for a change. But they did not know, until too late, what had happened.

Julia Scheeres is the New York Times best-selling author of the memoir Jesus Land and of A Thousand Lives: The Untold Story of Jonestown. She lives in the Bay Area with her family and is a member of the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto.

The post Teaching the Kids of Jonestown appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books https://ift.tt/2xG1M0f

#Los Angeles Review of Books #topmixtrends

0 notes

faithstruetales · 6 years

Text

When traveling, my itineraries are typically well-researched and packed with excitement to the minute, in fear that I’d miss out on some incredible experiences. However, with Seattle, for some reason I just let go, and everything magically fell into place.

We flew into Seattle and rented a car with Hertz. I’m still in awe of how super easy it was to get our car, despite being a packed holiday weekend. I read quickly that Seattle had many eclectic neighborhoods. I wanted to try them all, but time was too short in this soulful city, especially as we were staying at the Maxwell Hotel.

Maxwell Hotel – Pineapple hospitality

AKA “The Naked Experience”

This place ruined my life forever because I loved it so damn much. Upon walking into the lobby, a very friendly lady talked to me for fifteen minutes about her recommendations for the night. She then suggested I either take a cute adorable yellow bike or shuttle to one of their hot spots for free. There’s a funky lounge and bar, a rock star pizza restaurant surrounding welcoming pineapple water, coffee, and coconut cupcakes. The elevator was quirky, the hallways were classy, and I opened my door to see an adorable husky stuffed animal named “Fluffy” on my bed. Come to find out I could even adopt him to benefit local animal shelters.

Although the complimentary hot popcorn was tempting, I took a steaming hot shower, slipped on my complimentary robe and slippers, and fell into a cloud of dreams. A friend from back home had assured me that heaven was not ready for me, and I would not be dying on the plane, but perhaps my plane had in fact crashed. Not only was the bed divine but my husband and I each had our own fluffy twin duvet. I tried to buy them later but unfortunately the Simmons Beautyrest Black Luxury Hotel Collection Mattress cost $1,395 and the two twin duvets would end up being $900.

After an hour nap, it took great effort to get up, but we ventured to an amazing restaurant in Capitol Hill.

Capitol Hill

Capitol Hill is said to be an eclectic hipster neighborhood, perfect for a night out on the town with fun bars and restaurants. During my research, I too, believed the restaurant selection was the perfect entrance to a foodie’s paradise. It took me awhile to make a decision, but I finally settled on Herb & Bitter Public House.

Dinner at Herb & Bitter Public House

The Herb & Bitter Public House was a whimsical tapas bar where every table featured a menu covered by a different children’s book. I loved the atmosphere, the cheese platter was yummy, and the mixed drinks were handsomely strong.

Like the bars in Georgetown, the ones in Capitol Hill felt like they had soul, enough to inspire the likes of Nirvana. The area reminded me of the lively narrow streets in Boston, highlighted by beautiful rainbow crosswalks.

We were supposed to do some bar hopping and neighborhood exploring but we just couldn’t get that bed out of our thought clouds. Unfortunately Capitol Hill was not as exciting as the gigantic marshmallow patiently waiting for us at the Maxwell Hotel. We soon took an Uber back, put the “I’m naked” notice on the door and sank into Cloud 9. I’m sorry to say that I fell asleep at 10:00 in Seattle but I don’t regret it for a second. Days later I’m still thinking about that stupid bed, checking Seattle flights, scrolling past the haunting advertisements in my Facebook feed, and ultimately booked a night at their sister location in San Diego.

The First Starbucks Ever

The very first Starbucks to ever come into existence is conveniently right out side the Pike Place Market. We waited 45 minutes to get a coffee. To our dismay, the barista confirmed the quality of coffee found here was exactly the same at every other Starbucks. I had hoped they’d have some sort of exclusive blend but as they didn’t, I was feeling the crisp fall weather and ordered a pumpkin spice latte. I will forever be labeled as “ridiculous for being a basic bitch at the Mecca of coffee.” In my defense, there are much better brews out there, even in Seattle, so as always, follow your bliss.

Beecher’s – Cheese. Cheese. And More Cheese.

I cannot honestly say that Beecher’s has the best cheese I’ve ever had. Their grilled cheese was actually kind of meh compared to some I’ve tried at L.A. food trucks. However seeing cheese handmade and trying their mac & cheese was definitely worth the experience.

Sorry, I was too hungry to take a proper “before” picture

Pike Place Market

I’ve been to many markets around the world and after Camden in London, Pike Place Market was my favorite. It’s perfect for foodies, the eclectic, and the adventurous. You could easily spend a few hours here, taking it all in, especially on an empty stomach. I loved listening to the musicians as I tried the original Starbucks, went cheese tasting, and slowly sipped a cup of fresh apple cider.

Inside the market, you can try some of the freshest fruits, vegetables, and organic apple cider varieties.

You can even try chocolate pasta and go olive oil/ balsamic tasting

Among all of mother’s natures gifts, I was most impressed by the incredible exotic flower bouquets, ranging from $5-$15. If I ever lived here, I would need to have a serious weekly flower budget.

I bought this endearing necklace featuring stones from Puget Sound near Seattle, for whenever I needed the city to be a little extra close to my heart. I checked out some toys and other local crafts. I was beginning to wonder where I could find some hacky sacks, chili pepper lights, and zombie dolls in the same place, and as luck should have it, someone had already thought of that for me. Score.

The Seattle Waterfront

From inside Pike Place, take the elevator down and walk left towards the water. You will come across an enormous Ferris wheel, the aquarium, an artistic fountain, and a riddle to solve. Now, you may be asking yourself, why is “Ferris” in “Ferris wheel” capitalized? Which brings me to Fun Fact 206: In 1890, George Washington Gale Ferris Jr., a 33 year old engineer from Pittsburgh, put up $25,000 of his own money to create a giant revolving steel wheel in Chicago to rival the Eiffel Tower being displayed for the world fair. Unfortunately, even though the wheel was a huge success, after the fair Ferris was sued countless times, went into bankruptcy, and died from typhoid fever in 6 years later. While that’s a crappy way to go out, I hope he’s sitting on a cloud somewhere watching all of the beautiful Ferris wheels turning around the world and seeing his name capitalized.

Good job, Ferris

PAX

The plan after Pike Place Market was to venture into one of Seattle’s many other amazing neighborhoods, like Fremont or Ballard. However, as we were leaving we saw this… and well… parked the car.

PAX is an incredible yet intimate gaming convention held every year in Downtown Seattle. Even if you aren’t a gamer, but can appreciate magic and creativity, I’d highly suggest checking it out. I didn’t attend any of the panels but immensely enjoyed myself walking around, looking at games, and people watching.

Cannabis Tours

You might not smoke marijuana but it’s kind of interesting that it’s completely legal in the state of Washington. I was curious how it all worked, as our hotel lobby had stacks of cannabis tour pamphlets.

We walked into a smoke shop and asked, “How does this work? Do I need some kind of special card?” She took our licenses and we entered a room with all kinds of variations – rolled joints in pretty tubes and bags, cookies, brownies, and candy. A man put a huge menu binder on a glass case, describing all the differences and all I could think, is gee, there must be some really happy people in Washington.

The Gorge Amphitheater

The main purpose for our Washington trip was to experience one of the countries most stunning concert venues – the Gorge Amphitheater. The Gorge is a nice 2.5 hour drive east to Quincy, Washington, right outside George, Washington. Yes, there are people who get to say, “I live in George Washington.”What a wonderful world…

Camping there alone, especially with all the friendly enthusiastic fans, was an incredible once-in-a-lifetime experience. The Gorge was so much more than a concert. I don’t think I will ever be able to appreciate one the same way ever again, so hopefully I’ll be back here one day to hear that beautiful sound complimented by a sun setting over a scenic panorama of majestic cliffs.

The Space Needle

Some would say that Seattle is most known for the Space Needle – a 360 degree observation deck 540 feet high. While I’m sure the view is amazing and it might be fun to eat inside, to me, Seattle seemed like it would be better experienced somewhere random on the ground level.

Georgetown

A ten minute drive from downtown Seattle, you’ll find the delightful town of Georgetown. Walking around, we were welcomed by street art and some acoustic rock playing in the distance. The vibe felt like I always had imagined Seattle to be – a place with perfect combination of heart, grit, and soul.

We stayed at the Georgetown Inn for a night since it was close to the airport. It was cheap, clean, friendly, and a short walk to some intimate restaurants and bars with just the right amount of character. As we took in some homemade orangecello and happy hour pizzas at Via Tribunali, I felt comfortable just lingering for awhile.

Street Art in Georgetown

I wish I could have lingered in Seattle longer, because I loved every moment here, even when I wasn’t enjoying “The Naked Experience.” I can see why people love this unique city, but for me sleeping in thi was just a tad more enjoyable than becoming sleepless in Seattle.

Ever so often, travelers must make an ultimate decision. Is it better to explore or get naked? When traveling, my itineraries are typically well-researched and packed with excitement to the minute, in fear that I'd miss out on some incredible experiences.

#Capitol Hill #Georgetown #Gorge #PAX #Pike Place #Seattle #Space Needle #Travel #Wanderlust

0 notes

nofomoartworld · 7 years

Text

Hyperallergic: A Celebration of the Rat Bastards: Joan Brown, Bruce Conner, Jean Conner, Jay DeFeo, George Herms, Wally Hedrick, and Others

Installation view of “RAT BASTARD PROTECTIVE ASSOCIATION” (2017), Susan Inglett, New York (all images courtesy Susan Inglett gallery)

For many years, Bruce Conner’s film THE WHITE ROSE (1967) was all we knew of Jay DeFeo’s painting “The Rose” (1958-66). Conner made the film on November 9, 1965, when Bekins Moving & Storage Company forklifted the painting out of her second story apartment and studio at 2322 Fillmore Street, San Francisco. By the next day, all the inhabitants of that building, which another resident, Michael McClure, had dubbed “Painterland,” had moved out.

In her book, WELCOME TO PAINTERLAND: Bruce Conner and the Rat Bastard Protective Association (University of California Press, 2016), Anastasia Aukeman has written eloquently and thoroughly about the milieu in which this iconoclastic group of artists, poets, musicians, and publishers thrived from 1957 — when Conner and wife, Jean Sandsted, arrived in San Francisco from Lincoln, Nebraska — to the day “The Rose” was removed from DeFeo’s apartment.

Shortly after coming to San Francisco, Conner formed what he christened the “Rat Bastard Society.” According to Aukeman, Conner derived the name from “a San Francisco trash collectors’ organization, the Scavenger’s Protective Association [combined] with a slur picked up at the gym.” As Aukeman further details in her marvelous book, in 1983, Conner told the curator Peter Boswell that the name was fitting for “people who were making things with the detritus of society, who themselves were ostracized or alienated from full involvement with society.”

If we step back and think about what was going on in New York between 1957 and ’67, particularly as it was documented by the exhibition Inventing Downtown: Artist-Run Galleries in New York City, 1952-1965 at the Grey Art Gallery, New York University (January 10–April 1, 2017), which was curated by the brilliant Melissa Rachleff, we are apt to see a number of parallels – among them a keen interest in assemblage and collage.

According to Thomas B. Hess, the whole New York scene during this time changed for a number of artists, who were suddenly on the outs:

[…] when it seemed, as if on a Monday, they were respected members of a cultural milieu and then, the next Friday, practically the whole art Establishment crossed the street to avoid having to say hello.

Among the reasons for the change were the collectors and critics whose belief in the historical progress of art helped create irreversible divisions within the art world.

The San Francisco scene, however, particularly the one loosely defined by the Rat Bastard Protective Association, had little hope of attracting collectors, and there was never an infusion of big money or critical support into that scene. And yet, what is important to remember is that, instead of lamenting that fact, it thrived, and a lot of great work got made.

Installation view of “RAT BASTARD PROTECTIVE ASSOCIATION” (2017), Susan Inglett, New York

Aukeman has curated the current exhibition, RAT BASTARD PROTECTIVE ASSOCIATION, at Susan Inglett (April 27 – June 3, 2017), which is its second iteration. The first, which included more artists, was at the Landing (October 1, 2016 – January 7, 2017) in Los Angeles.

The Inglett exhibition features paintings, drawings, works on paper, collages, assemblages, and a vitrine full of ephemera. The artists in the show include Wallace Berman, Bob Branaman, Joan Brown, Bruce Conner, Jean Conner, Jay DeFeo, George Herms, Wally Hedrick and Michael McClure. This gathering is supplemented by a wall of black-and-white digital archival prints of the artists and others from the scene taken by Jerry Burchard. Burchard is to the San Francisco scene what Fred W. McDarrah was to New York’s downtown milieu: an essential figure who has beautifully documented a bygone era.

The works in the show date from 1952, when Jay DeFeo is in Europe, to 1967, when Conner made “SUPER CONNER CAMPAIGN SOAPBOX” (1967) by adhering offset self-adhesive stickers sporting the artist’s name to a low platform or “soapbox.” Conner used this sticker-covered platform to deliver speeches when he was running for San Francisco’s City Supervisor in 1967. When Robert Rauschenberg famously said that he worked in “that gap between art and life,” he suggested that the two were separate domains. Conner’s soapbox proposes that there is no gap, and art and life are connected.

Wallace Berman, “Collaged mailer” (c. 1966), collage on paper, 8 x 13 inches

There is a group of collaged mailers that Berman used to send various friends copies of his magazine Semina, plus other ephemera well worth looking at. It seems that Berman — like the other artists in this wonderful show — used any and every occasion to make something into art without thinking about posterity or their place in history.

The three artists who were part of this group but not well-known, particularly in New York, are represented by one or two works: Robert “Bob” Branaman, Jean Conner, and Wally Hedrick. While I have seen work by Jean Conner and Hedrick and am always happy to see more, Branaman was new to me.

After I began doing research on him, I found that, like Bruce Conner, McClure, and David Haselwood (who published books under his imprint, Auerhahn Press), Branaman originally hailed from Wichita, Kansas. In 1959, he moved to San Francisco, where he hooked up with McClure, Conner, and others in this nascent scene. A poster announcing his show at the Batman Art Gallery is in the vitrine. In addition to making paintings, drawings, prints, and films, he collaborated with Allen Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs. A big show of his work is in order.

Jean Conner has two collages titled “(ARE YOU A SPRINGMAID),” both dated 1960. Using an insipid magazine ad depicting a woman sleeping in a bucolic scene (a sign for comfort and freshness) from the Springmaid bedding company, Conner puns on the company’s name by adding seven young women, wearing colorful pajamas and dresses, who are dancing, jumping, and frolicking above the woman resting comfortably beneath a sheet.

Jean Conner, “(ARE YOU A SPRINGMAID)” (1960), paper collage, 11 7/8 x 9 3/4 inches

The juxtaposition suggests that the sleeping woman is dreaming, since she’s asleep on the ground with no visible Springmaid mattress. The work is delightfully whimsical and, at the same time, pokes fun at the frivolous idealization of women so often found in magazine ads from that time and now. From these and other collages that I have seen over the years, I am curious what a large selection of Conner’s work would look like.

Wally Hedrick has flown under the radar in New York ever since his work (along with DeFeo’s) was selected by the legendary Dorothy Miller for Sixteen Americans at the Museum of Modern Art, New York (December 16, 1959–February 17, 1960). That’s nearly sixty years, a very long time, which is the subject of one of Hedrick’s paintings in the exhibition. Measuring 118 inches high by 25 inches wide, “Hurry Up It’s Time” (1960) is an elongated vertical format in which Hedrick has depicted a gold clock mounted on a gold pedestal topped by a Maltese Cross.

There is something absurd about a painting of these dimensions depicting a clock, where time stands still.

Wally Hedrick, “Love Feel” (1957), oil on canvas, 59 inch diameter

“Love Feel” (1957), Hedrick’s other painting, is a tondo on which the artist has painted an earth-toned mandala. This, of course, is one of the real differences between the artists associated with the Rat Bastard Protective association and their New York counterparts. These West Coasts believed in the occult, magic, and consulted the tarot cards of Aleister Crowley. They did not reject Surrealism, dreams, or the irrational. More interested in feeling than in formal issues, they rebelled against strictures of every kind, while many of their New York counterparts embraced a rigid geometry.

RAT BASTARD PROTECTIVE ASSOCIATION continues at Susan Inglett (522 West 24th Street, Chelsea, Manhattan) through June 3.

The post A Celebration of the Rat Bastards: Joan Brown, Bruce Conner, Jean Conner, Jay DeFeo, George Herms, Wally Hedrick, and Others appeared first on Hyperallergic.

from Hyperallergic http://ift.tt/2pyjP79 via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Hyperallergic

0 notes