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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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"you were missed, you know.” the voice is light, balancing on the edge of airy like a coin on its rim, in a way only careful practice yielded. so jason whirls around, faster than he normally would in a neatly-pressed suit and loose dress shoes.

there’s a woman, close cropped red hair swinging into her face and pulling at the corners of her mouth until her expression is as severe as her form. there’s a scar on her jaw and, oh, the memory tumbles into his head as if pushed. kate kane, proof that vigilantism is genetic, once tugged jason into into her side and pulled him away from a particularly leering investor at function. the bite of her nails on his skin was a thousand times sweeter than the man’s smile.

she smirks. “hi.”

“haven’t seen you in a while,” jason responds, attempting casual and instead tripping, falling into his crime lord persona, since he doesn’t know how else to interact with people when he’s jason peter todd-wayne.

“not since you died,” kate remarks and damn, right for the gullet. “you’ve grown up.”

jason shrugs, suddenly feeling thirteen years old again, suddenly feeling all of four feet, eight inches in the face of her candidness. “time’s funny like that.”

she eyes him carefully, trying to fish for the truth in what she believes is a lie wrapped in a careful quip. jason doesn’t blame her: he’s cultivated quite a reputation for himself. but he stripped the sarcasm from his words before he spoke them, and their rawness is shrouded in the bubbling champagne and crystal chandelier around them, but it’s no less present for anyone who knows how to peel the veil back.

“you were missed,” she repeats, satisfied with his answer. “not sure anyone’s told you that since you’ve come back. your family’s a stubborn bunch. i just wanted to make sure.”

“make sure i knew i was missed?” jason clarifies, feeling a little foolish, because dick wouldn’t beg to save his life but there were a few times that his words came close to pleas, and tim had made it clear how much he’d upheld the pedestal he’d put jason on, and alfred had actually told him that to his face.

but this was the first time he found himself truly believing those familiar words. he hadn’t known kate, not at all. and yet, she nodded, clapped him on the shoulder once, twice, then left, completely unaware of the pit of resentment she’d carved out of jason’s stomach and thrown on the ground until jason felt like he’d slip on it if he moved, if he breathed.

she didn’t look back, but jason’s eyes didn’t stop following her until she was out of sight.

"you were missed, you know.” jason doesn’t startle, his training is etched into every scar decorating his skin, and there are times that he grips and holds onto those scars like a lifeline. he’s far too practiced to flinch, but he’d be lying to himself if his heart didn’t skip a beat.

he forgave himself in the next second, though. cassandra cain could make men much more experienced than him recoil. she appeared soundlessly, and folded down beside him with a grace that jason hadn’t seen anywhere outside his family. the amount of space she left between them, the relaxed posture that left visible tension cording through her arms like pulling steel taffy, the tilt to her body that made jason automatically want to open his mouth and let his tumultuous thoughts come out as an oil spill: right now, cass had dick grayson’s brushtrokes all over her.

“dick put you up to this?”

cass shook her head, then bit her lip in a considering movement. jason wondered if he’d practiced, because bruce had long since broken that dangerous habit out of his children.

“i am still working on comfort. assurance,” she said, rifling through the words like flash cards, picking the most accurate ones. “i thought i’d practice.”

“oh? and why exactly do you think i need comfort.”

“i overheard your argument,” she admitted, “with bruce.”

“i didn’t think anyone was there.”

“i didn’t mean to,” she said. “sorry. but i heard what you said.”

jason scoffed. “prove me wrong. one step forward, two steps back with that dense motherfucker.”

“sign of protection,” cass said. “not distrust.”

out of everyone to say that to him, cass was probably the least likely. jason had thought she, of all people, would be on his side after he found the microchip in his helmet. she, of all people, would value independence after being owned for so long.

“by the time he found you, you were dead. and he missed you more than anything. he will never let that happen again.”

“oh yeah? privacy mean nothing to him? i know he’s crazy about this stuff but come on. there’s a limit.”

“you are not relying on him because of this.” cass stood up, stretching her back, though jason was sure she really didn’t have to. “he is relying on you. let him.”

“you were missed, you know.”

“what, speaking from personal experience? i ain’t you, west.” jason could feel the gentle thrum of electricity behind him, making his hair stand on edge. two steps backward, and he’d be pulled into that void, that black hole of energy, that swirling vortex of pure power condensed into something human-shaped.

except he wouldn’t. it was just wally. just dick’s best friend joining him outside on the balcony. jason didn’t know how dick and tim could stand to be around speedsters willingly, for fun.

“i mean, sort of,” wally shrugged. “but me and you had very different experiences.”

“yeah, west, i’m not sure who else has been stuck in the fucking speedforce.”

wally snorted, an if only you knew hidden in plain sight. jason decided he really didn’t want to know. “i mean there’s that,” the speedster concedes, “but also, everyone forgot i existed. that didn’t happen with you.”

“you sure about that?”

“hey,” wally eyed him, his eyes suddenly sharp. “don’t start that shit. i was erased from the memories of everyone i loved. you did nothing but stay in the memories of your family.”

“now i know we’re talking about two different things.”

“jason,” wally sighed, and the sheer exasperation pouring off him made jason want curl his fingers, bring them up for a swing, taste the bite of pain that would prick at his knuckles, nevermind the fact that wally would dodge anyway. “don’t do that.”

he turned to face the speedster, arms crossed deliberately over his chest. “where the hell do you get off acting like dick?”

“you’re more like dick than you realize,” wally said, “and i spent half my childhood dealing with his moods. actually, i still do.”

“do you have a point?” jason snapped, starting to get irritated. he wasn’t sure why. he’d spent his entire life one one end of a scale, dick grayson on the other. he’d always tipped his end down. this was the first time someone was telling him the scale was even.

“just because your family didn’t mourn the way you wanted them to,” wally said, “doesn’t mean they didn’t mourn you.”

“fuck you.”

“they loved you. and they missed you,” wally continues, steamrolling right over jason in a way most speedsters were prone to do. “there’s no minimum requirement for loss. no ‘if you didn’t do this, then you didn’t grieve me.’ that’s not even a situation, ever.”

“so that makes everything bruce did okay?” jason sputtered

“not at all. god knows i disagree with bruce on more things than i tolerate. but this is one thing you can’t fault him on.”

it wasn’t that easy, though. jason wanted to scream it at wally’s face, it wasn’t that easy. it wasn’t about whether bruce loved him enough,,,,except maybe it was. jason wanted bruce to have loved him enough to make a difference in gotham. jason wanted bruce to have missed him enough to change things, because change meant that bruce had been so hurt by his death that he refused to let it happen to anyone else again.

bruce had made a vow after his parents died. the fifteen year old inside jason was begging bruce why he hadn’t been afforded the same devotion. jason was his son.

“just something to think about,” wally said, then stepped backward, making to go inside where dick was calling him. “you were afforded the luxury of coming back with a place left empty in your family for you. you didn’t have to make it, like i did.”

��being dead, then coming back wrong isn’t a fucking luxury,” jason snarled.

with a shrug, wally turned, a little faster than the average human, lightning sparking at his heels as he left jason alone on the balcony. “depends on your definition of wrong.”

jason get therapy. please. also happy deathday

honestly i couldn’t decide whose side of the argument i was on, jason’s or wally’s.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption

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anjuschiffer · 3 years

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It’s finally the New Year! What other way to celebrate than to write for Day 1 of @timari-month-event New Years Day? :D

Day 1 : New Years Day

—

Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

—

AO3

Cass poked her head through the common room’s doorway, surprised to see that Dick had managed to have everyone over at his apartment.

To be honest, Cass thought he wouldn’t be able to get everyone under one roof. Then again, this was Dick, everyone’s favorite person...well, almost everyone’s.

“Cass, so that's where you’ve been.” Kate said from behind her, Cass turning to see her ‘aunt.’ “This is your first time, isn’t it? Celebrating New Years, that is.” Cass nodded at that.

She honestly didn’t know what to think about this “New Years” celebration Dick wanted everyone to be a part of, how excited he was to be able to greet the new year as a family.

It was just another event that only marked the end of a year and the beginning of another. Why celebrate it?

Cass snapped from her thoughts when Kate chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright Cass. Don’t think too hard about it. Just enjoy yourself. Perhaps you’ll understand then.”

Cass nodded, watching as Kate walked away to join the others.

She watched as she sat diagonally from Bruce, Selina and Alfred, the quartet of adults observing the other “supposed” adults and children.

“Grapes? Why would you wish using grapes? They don’t hold any magical power.” Damian asked as Dick handed him a bowl with 12 grapes in jt.

“Good question. Why grapes?” Duke asked no one, proceeding to just eat them. “Why not star fruit?”

“I-I actually don’t know.” Dick shyly confesses, deciding to just leave the grapes at the center of the coffee table for people to just grab.

“It actually started as an advertising tactic for farmers to sell their grape harvests in the 19 century in Spain.” Jason said, eyeing his own bowl of 12 grapes. “Later on in the early 20th century, the grapes symbolize good luck, so the people started to eat them after the start of a New Year in hopes of having good luck.”

“In other words, wishful thinking and superstition?” Stephanie asked.

“Yup.” Jason munched on a few grapes. “ there are a few people who additionally do it to ward off evil.”

“So just superstition.” Duke clarifies. “What a waste of good grapes.”

“-can believe it! There’s only five minutes left until the new year!” The woman on the television screen squealed, capturing everyone's attention. The screen then switched cameras to show the packed street of Times Square, hundreds -if not thousands- of people waving at the camera as it panned around them.

“Does everyone have their glass of champagne?” Dick asked, watching as everyone lifted their glass. “Babs, I thought you didn’t drink?”

“And neither does Tim, Damian, Duke and Steph and yet you still gave them one.” Dick started to panic at that.

After all, they’re still minors, even if by a few months away from being either 21 or 18.

“Damian, Duke, Steph, Tim! I need those- wait. Where is Tim?” Dick asked.

“Wait, he was invited?” Jason asked.

“Of course I did! He’s part of the-“

“Three minutes left!”

“Well, too late to ask him to join us. Well just have to greet the new year without him.” Steph said.

“His lost.” Damian added, keeping a grin to himself.

“One minute!”

“FaceTime?” Dick asked, the family ignoring him as they intently watched the woman on the screen beginning to count down.

Cass watched Dick panic around while the rest of the family continued to watch the television.

She noticed Bruce and Selina signal her to come closer, which she did, the two of them pulling her to sit in between them.

Cass fidgeted a bit, adjusting to the affection.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”

“Are we really-“

“Five! Four! Three!

Two!

One!

Happy New Year!” The lady announced, hugging her news partner.

“Happy New Year.” The family said in unison, lifting their glasses in sync before everyone took a sip. Of course, a few idiots chugged it down.

Or at least attempted to.

As soon as Jason had chugged half of his champagne, he sputtered about, Babs chuckling in the back while Duke and Steph tried to help him.

“Todd. How dare you waste-“

“Replacement.” He wheezed out, pointing to the screen. “He’s-“ he then began to cough.

Everyone turned to look at the screen wondering what he meant because there on the screen were just couples kissing. Tim wasn’t-

“Well you look at that.” Selina said with a grin.

“Is he serious?” Duke asked, burying his face into his hands.

“Apparently so.” Steph grinned.

There, the farthest corner of the screen was Tim, or rather, Red Robin kissing a girl who wore a hoodie that resembled Red Robin’s. Midnight hair peeled from out of the hood and she wore a red domino mask.

“Did anyone know he was going to do this?” Kate asked. Everyone turned to Alfred.

“Master Tim only told me he was visiting his girlfriend. He never told me he was going to pull this stunt.” Alfred took a sip of his tea. “But we should congratulate the chap. He may not be celebrating with us, but at least he’s celebrating the New Year with someone he loves.”

-How it happened-

Tim was double checking his list, making sure he had everything before heading downstairs.

Despite Dick wanting everyone over at his apartment to spend New Years Eve together, Tim already had plans, plans he had arranged weeks prior.

“Master Tim. Are you heading out?” Alfred asked him, Tim taken aback by Alfred’s...lack of a suit. “Master Tim?”

“Sorry Alfred. It’s just...I’ve never seen you out of a suit so...it suits you.” Was all Tim was able to say. Instead of his tidy and fitted butler suit, Alfred was wearing a very...grandfatherly outfit.

White shirt, gray cardigan, brown jacket and a dark gray pair of slacks. A pair of loafers and a flat cap sealed the deal.

“Well, Miss Marinette gifted me this jacket this Christmas. I thought I would wear it for this occasion. The inner pocket is my favorite detail.”

Alfred showed Tim the inner pocket, the pocket having different swirl embroidery. But upon a closer inspection, each different colored thread was a different family member’s name. Tim’s name was embroidered in a steel blue.

“What a very Marinette thing for her to do.” Tim said with a smile, beaming at her talent. That’s when he remembered about where he was heading. He took out his phone and fought a scowl when he realized he was running behind schedule.

“Judging by your scowl, I’m guessing you’re late to where you’re heading to.”

“I am a bit behind schedule. But I’ll manage.” Tim said, shifting the bag on his shoulder. He didn’t know why, but something told him to say it. “I’m going to New York to meet up with Marinette. We've been planning this for a few months and thought we should meet up for New Year’s Eve. We’ve got a few places in mind and we’re hoping everything-“

“It’s going to be fine.” Alfred assures Tim, not once mentioning his rambling. “Now go. You wouldn’t want to make Miss Marinette wait any longer, now would you?”

Tim nodded, saying goodbye to Alfred and running to catch the nearest cab to get to the nearest bus to take him to New York.

After a two hour trip, Tim stood by an odd mechanism trapped inside an acrylic case.

He wanted to make sure where he was headed before leaving the 42 St Port Authority. After all, he had only been to Times Square a few times in his life.

“Tim!” Marinette called out, Tim looking up from his phone to see Marinette running up to him.

A grin grew on his face as he caught Marinette, twirling her.

“Hey. Aren’t you half an hour early?”

“Maybe you're just late.” Marinette grinned.

Tim sighed at the Into the Spiderverse reference until he noticed her outfit.

She was wearing a red dress, the most obvious piece, but it was her wrap cape that caught his attention. The front piece was red in color while the rest of the cape was black. But it was the hidden accents of gold and the single golden robin crest at the center that intrigued him the most.

“Is that-“

“A Red Robin inspired outfit?” Marinette grinned. “Yes, yes it is. After all,” Marinette leaned over Tim’s ear. “He’s my favorite.” She purred, fighting off a giggle when she saw Tim’s face red from ear to ear.

“We should be on our way.” Tim managed to say, leading Marinette out the building and onto Edge Tower.

—

The duo went on their mini date at Edge Tower, Marinette not surprised when she found out that Tim rented out the entire place for the hour.

Marinette ran up to the edge of the balcony, not believing how high up they were. While Ladybug was able to get up on high places like this with ease, it was a whole different experience as Marinette.

She leaned into the cold air, a smile across her face as the wind blew.

“You’d think you’d get used to things like this.” Tim said, as if reading her mind, leaning against the rail right next to her.

“But no matter how many times you see the same view, it’s always breathtaking.” Marinette replied, turning to face him.

“Just like you are.” Tim enjoyed the way Marinette flushed red, causing him to chuckle. He tucked a loose hair strand behind her ear. “How about we take a picture to remember this?”

And so they did.

—

The thing with it being New Years Eve, all the places were packed, even otherwise empty food courts and the edge of the Hudson River.

After a while, the two ended up heading back to Times Square, a decision they soon regretted.

They ended up being caught in the swarm of people who had been camping in the area for a day...or two...or three…

One of them thought they had already been there and allowed them to slip through and by the time the duo realized that they were being pushed further deeper into the area, it was too late for them to get out. More people started to gather around them, the area packed to the brim with New Yorkers and tourists alike.

Seeing as they were stuck there, Marinette and Tim decided to make the best of it and went along with the crowd, waiting for hours until a few minutes were left before the start of the new year.

“Hey Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m...I’m kinda glad we decided to meet here today.”

“So do I. Although, I do feel guilty for not telling Dick that I wasn’t going to be able accept his invitation to spend the eve with him and the rest of the family.” Tim confessed, Marinette giving his hand a squeeze.

They remained like that for a while before Tim turned to her.

“Marinette, there’s something I have to say.”

“What is it?”

“I just wanted to say, thank you. Thank you for being by my side this year.” He heard someone say that there were three minutes left. He cupped her face between his hands. “Thank you for being part of my life.”

As Tim leaned forward, Marinette stopped him, Tim wondering if he did something wrong. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Tim. I think you’re forgetting something.” Marinette said, placing a domino mask over his eyes and one on herself. “There. Now the press won’t be bothering you tomorrow.”

“The press? Why-“

“Tim. How did you forget that you're the CEO of Wayne Enterprise? Seriously, how can you forget that?” Marinette huffed.

It was then that the two realized that the crowd had begun to count down.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“Should we pick up where we left off?” Marinette asked, letting out a yelp when Tim brought her closer to him.

“Six! Five ! Four!”

“Let’s.” Tim’s said, leaning forward towards Marinette.

“Two!

One!”

Their lips met.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

#maribat #timari january 2021 #timari #timari month

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requiescatinpacerp · 5 years

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“Opportunity does not knock, it presents itself when you beat down the door.“

Bellatrix Lestrange

Age: Twenty-Two

Affiliation: Death Eater

Blood Status: Pureblood

Career: Actress

Wand: 9″, Bloodwood, Fwooper Feather, Rigid

A soldier ready for war, everything black, dark hair and hooded eyes, self declared royal, blood before all else, raining on the parade, painted red lips, a glass full of champagne, lying more than you breath, in it for the fame, hand tailored robes, a dallop of crazy, five steps ahead, no conscience, hell hath no fury, mad with power, high flames, always pure, green gemstones, the taste of licorice.

Cygnus and Druella Black had been apart of Lord Voldemort's year and thus were prepared breed the perfect solider for him in their oldest child. Being the first born in a proper pureblood family came with many expectations and it was no exception when you were Bellatrix. While most children were learning how to spell their name she was learning her family tree, she could name curses before she could name places and she knew that she was a Pureblood before all else. There were rigid expectations when it came to being the firstborn Black and no room for error unless she wished to be an outcast. It was no secret that was not an option as far as Bellatrix was concerned given that it was family above all. She kept her sisters in line, upheld the family values and was groomed as the perfect warrior for the call for Pureblood Supremacy. School wasn’t a welcomed escape it was another assignment where she would help recruit the people for the movement that was lurking in the shadows. Bellatrix would smoke out the unworthy to keep what was destined to change the future as pure as possible. No one would get in her way, no one would tarnish her mission. Along the way she was capable of making friends and even more so of falling in love. It was no secret that she was betrothed to Rodolphus Lestrange and would marry him after Hogwarts, it was another one of her tasks that she wouldn’t fail at. Being his wife was expected of her and together they would serve along side the Dark Lord. For every mission that she had he was beside her, just as ready for the cause as she was, or so she believed. Betrayal came in the form of her middle sister Andromeda who had been sneaking around with a Muggleborn, Bellatrix believed the relationship to be harmless and nothing more than a phase but that was not the case. Andromeda was in love she claimed and was willing to give up everything for Ted, including her family’s beliefs. Bellatrix was hurt but as she watched her father blast her sister of the tapestry that was that, she would no longer talk to her sister. All of her attention feel to Narcissa and ensuring that she followed the plan in life that was laid out for her, there was no more room in her life for failure. Soon after graduation came her marriage to Rodolphus and the two took the Dark Mark together, she ready to serve and he by her side. They took mission after mission and while he worked to give them a cover in the Ministry it was her duty to give him a child, an heir to both of their fortunes. But that wouldn’t happen Bellatrix would not do something that would cause her to lose focus in the mission that the Dark Lord needed her to follow, she only had eyes for one man and that was him. Thus when he demanded that she use her deceivingly innocent appearance to become an influential face in the Wizarding World she could only oblige. Much like Rodolphus used his political facade she would use her fame as an actress to be a face that the public trusted. She was used to playing roles and this would be the biggest of her life.

RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE -- Her husband and partner in all the missions that they’re given. While the two make an excellent team there is little in their relationship aside from that.

AMYCUS CARROW -- If there was ever a person that she trusted with her life she dared to say that it was Amycus. No matter the instant it was clear that he shared her thoughts and visions, the two are a deadly pair that is unmatched by any.

NARCISSA & ANDROMEDA BLACK -- Narcissa is the light of Bellatrix's life and she'd do anything to protect the baby of the Black family. She once would do the same for Andromeda but now that's all changed, given the opportunity she wouldn't hesitate in ending the middle Black sibling's life.

Bellatrix Lestrange is an TAKEN character with a FC of Liz Gillies.

#marauders rp #marauders roleplay #hp rp #harry potter rp #bellatrix lestrange #de #death eater #bellatrixlestrangebio #liz gillies #taken #takenf

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rubys-things23-blog · 6 years

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Don’t Look

I was only two years old when I first saw the Reapers. Most other memories from my childhood, especially ones from when I was so young, are a blurry conglomeration of colours faded with age and ghostly snippets of voices, but you never forget the first time you see the Reapers, and believe me when I say I’ve tried. Sometimes I wonder if that’s intentional, if they somehow purposefully make sure that even the first memories you have of them are clear and sharp and crisp, like an autumn wind.

I was outside, playing with my dolls on the porch. The glorious sunshine we had that day now highlights the memory with a picturesque sense of childhood innocence, and I wish it could have stayed that way. My parents peered through the windows occasionally, keeping an eye on me, smiling in the wistful and hopeful way caregivers do when they see their children aren’t dead behind the eyes just yet. Suddenly, I heard a strange ringing noise coming from down the street, echoing through the mountains that bordered our village. It was very faint to start with, so I didn’t pay it any attention, but it gradually grew louder and louder. It reminded me of a snake, slithering through the peaceful paths of the village and filling every available space with its venom, its threats. I started glancing up anxiously from my games, the uncertainty in my chest swelling so that my limbs jumped with the natural fight-or-flight response. My curiosity got the better of me and I stood up, straining to try and see around the winding corners of the street, determined to see what the source of that damned noise was.

My breath caught in my throat when they appeared, practically materializing out of thin air into a single, straight line that marched with a military-like precision. They wore robes of the purest white that seemed to glow in the vibrant sunshine, and even though the hems of their clothes brushed the cobblestones, there was not a single speck of dirt on the fabric. The floppy hoods hid everything of their faces except for a smooth stretch of skin where their mouths should be. Their heads were lowered, but their arms were stretched in front of them with their hands cupped like they were accepting a gift from God. The ringing noise grew louder as they approached, their progress tracked immaculately by my fascinated gaze, and soon they were close enough for me to realise that the noise wasn’t a high pitched ringing, it was screaming. It was a collection of horrid, heart-wrenching wails from men, women, and children that followed the Reapers wherever they went. When I was older, I heard rumours that every time they claimed another soul, their cries were added to the mix. Sixteen-year-old-me is used to the noise, and I barely even notice it anymore, but as a toddler who had never heard anything like it before, I found it almost unbearable. My eyes filled with tears as my knees trembled and I clapped my hands over my ears, shaking my head violently as if I could clear it of the noises I was hearing. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that if I couldn’t see the Reaper, then the sound would go away too.

I felt strong hands grab me and haul me inside. My elbow hit the doorframe as I was dragged in, and I yelped at the pain. “Sorry,” my dad said gruffly as he deposited me on the floor before rushing straight back to the door and slammed it shut before locking it firmly.

“What are they?” I asked tearfully, rubbing my elbow. I could still hear the screams outside, but the door and windows muffled them to a bearable extent. My mum came to stand with me as Dad ran around the room double-checking that windows were locked and closing all the curtains. His actions created a kerfuffle of anxiety that left such a sour smell in the air that my nose wrinkled. My skin crawled with uncertainty and I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking backwards and forwards on my heels.

“They’re nothing to worry about sweetheart,” mum told me, using the tone parents always use when it definitely is something to worry about, but they’re determined to shelter their children from the shrapnel. She reached out to hug me and it was the first time that I shied away from her touch. Even at two, I knew that she was lying, and I really wanted to know more, but the fear in my father’s eyes created a lump in my throat that made it impossible for the words to form. I kept cautious eyes on my dad as he approached me, looking for answers, but he gave me none as he ruffled my hair in a manner that was supposed to be carefree, but looking back it may have just been a way for him to reassure himself that I was still there.

“Just stay inside until they’re gone, okay Ash?” he said.

“My dolls are still out there,” I protested anxiously, craning my neck to try and see round him and out the window. Dad shifted his weight slightly so that my view was blocked.

“You can go and get them in a second. Just…” he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Just stay inside for now.”

“Okay,” I promised him, and mum squeezed my shoulders before walking off to talk to dad in the kitchen. They hushed their voices so that they could barely be heard over the wind rustling the leaves in the trees. I walked to the couch that was pressed next to the window, staggering on the way as if I was drunk on the new mystery the same way adults got drunk on expensive champagne. I clambered onto the couch and stared out of the window. I could see Rosalie, the doll my mum had made me, lying on the ground in a splay of cotton limbs and fire-red hair. Her expression was frozen in a smile I would grow to find mildly unnerving. Her black button eyes looked like they were gleaming, as if she was as excited and curious about these strange events as I was. We both wanted an adventure.

Now, a normal two-year-old would listen would listen to their father when they told them not to go outside, especially if the only thing that was shaking more than his voice was his hands, but I was an asshole of a child. Besides, since I was always an introverted person with a permanent scowl, Rosalie was my only friend. I carefully came off of the couch and dragged the small wooden chair from my drawing desk to the door so I could stand on it and reach the handle. In his rush to close the windows, dad had left the key in the door, so I unlocked it and let it swing open. The air seemed different coloured with mystery and fear like a vicious bruise. I could still hear the screaming decently well, and I knew that they were close, so I kept my gaze fixed on the floor as I scurried towards Rosalie and scooped her up in my hands, holding her close to my chest. It wasn’t until I heard one cry, rising so clearly above the others, that I made the mistake of looking up.

#pain #fear #death #child #original #exerpts #writing #author

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boom-revue-60 · 4 years

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Partners, lovers, artists

Carla Knight-Braun and Larry Braun were sculptors. She a figurative artist, he was an automotive artist. Together they ran a molding company which was a sure bet for sculptors in Loveland. If you could produce quality molds, that was one less expense for the bronze artist. While quality was a priority, the many artists who came to Loveland to cast their bronze works knew they could bring their waxes and clays to Loveland for the messy step of moldmaking. It was a good business in Loveland, the artists felt secure in the array of Loveland moldmakers and their skills. It was also a good business for a couple with children, working on their own art. Carla's signature piece, the Rice Gatherer"? was one of the first sculptures to be placed in Benson Park where the sculpture show happens each August. The portrait of an Asian woman dressed in traditional, everyday attire is stunning. Her clear porcelain skin, smooth as ice, with hands outsreched sitting atop the other, as if preparing for communion. The piece is beautifully crafted buy extolls a moment of peace and mystery we feel for the Asians. The model was Mari (?) a Japanese nationlal married to Bobby (Booby is how she pronounced his name) a genuine American. They lived next to the Braun's. I remember the small version and how fascinated I was by the small grains of sand laying in her palm. It reminded me of a sculpture my mother's friend had and I was fascintated by it for years. Hers was a ceramic or porcelain portrait of an Asian man sitting on the floor ona grass matt counting rice. Lois always had real rice displayed in a straw basket and piled on the low table. Carla's Mari held little bronze uncooked rice. Carla was a free spirit. She was goodlooking like Linda Ronstadt. Dark hair, a round face, cheeks and nose. Always pleasant to see her face. She had a fashion conscience daughter. During those days bluejeans ruled and Carla took hints from Ellie and not only wore great jeans but she taught me how to fold an old boot-cut jean's ankles to look like skinny jeans. When I knew Carla and Larry they had been married for years, and besides Ellie, Carla and Larry had a son, Aaron who was a year older than my son. Larry Braun was an automotive artist, meaning his art depicted vintage cars, race car drivers and vingettes of the car racing world. Because of Larry I was able to attend the ConCourse de Elegance at Pebble Beach. I will remember that as the show of shows. The art - paintings, posters, bronze sculptures and the cars themselves were proof that cars were a work of art. The show was set up on the 18th Hole of the Pebble Beach golf course surrounded by white tents, elegant antique cars from a Rolls to a Bentley to a Mazeratti. People strolled along the beach with the Pacific in the background wearing long flowing black dresses, straw hats, scarfs and carrying the makings of a picnic complete with blankets in tow, champagne, and caviar. At the Pebble Beach Club House Richard (?) lifesize golfer was placed on the patio also overlooing the greens and Pacific Ocean. The show will last a lifetime in my mind but for Larry Braun this was just one of many yearly automotive art shows. This was how he made his living. The artists attending the show, except for Larry, had in one capacity or another worked in the auto industry. Many had started off designing cars or worked in the art department drawing story boards, recreating on canvas historic car events such as the Grand Prie in France (?). Larry's art was a young boy's dream. To detail, the bronze had exquisite detailing in the tires, chrome work, running board and most stunning were the hood ornaments. I left Pebble Beach with the knowledge and love of automotive art. It a part of history documenting man's favorite past-time --- driving.

Clyde Aspivig and Carol Guzman. Both are well-known landscape painters. He was from Montana when he moved to Loveland. He was your typical married man, two children, and a wife. I had heard about Clyde through Steve Elliott, another former Bozeman man, M.D./painter who followed Clyde to Loveland. No idea where Clyde's studio was in the beginning. I ran into his wife at sports events and pre-school events. I heard her talking one day in the bleachers about her 'famous' husband. I recognized the name and listened. She was new to town but came with an in-place air of superiority. That's what I remember about my first encounter with the name Aspevigs other than Steve mentioning Clyde. At that time his work was already well-known and had already been selling for big bucks for several years. I eventually became familiar with his work. It was, and still it magnificent. His talent lay in spectacular panoramic landscapes of the Rocky Mountains, the Grand Tetons, rivers and the snow covered mountains of the Western United States. And, really. No one did it better. I knew he was a prominent artist when I learned he had traded a landscape for a brand new (big SUV). At the time these vehicles sold for around $70,000 +. No one in Loveland was doing that kind of 2-dimensional work. The church on Grant & 3rd had already been turned into a living/work space by a guy who blew into town to get catch the art wave. Solveig's daughter, Inga, connected with him for a short time. Then he disappeared. Clyde and Carol moved into the church. My curiosity was piqued. I never connected to Clyde's wife but when you hear that the church is owned by Clyde and he's with Carol Guzman, well, I was curious. I didn't know Carol but the story was Carol met Clyde at a workshop and the rest is history. She was lovely, lively and a dedicated artist, friendly and outgoing. Whereas, Clyde, was none of the above. That's when I became familiar with them as a painting couple. They spent their days painting. No lunch breaks. Energy bars and immersion in the canvases in front of them. Carol's work was not on the level of Clyde's. Meaning her work was looser, more feminine and colorful and while she was a highly professional and sucessful artist, her work did not sell anywhere in clyde's range. If they weren't in the studio they were out painting plein air. In the early 2000's (2002-3?) they sold the church and like Steve Elliott, went back to Montana. I saw them in the early days of the Coor's Western Art Show & Sale. Clyde was a featured artist. I believe he did the poster about 2003-4. Carol was also in the show (?) when I ran into to them. Clyde was a happy man being back in Montana and his life with Carol. She was always a happy, smiling person and seemed perfectly happy living in rural, cold, snowy, isolated Montana. (look up the latest on them). Lori Acott & Adam Schultz. I knew Adam when he worked at a metal chasing, base shop in Loveland. He was young. Like real young. But, he had a houseful of kiddos. I was shocked. I remember his wife. She was pretty, long blonde hair, healthy looking and a devoted mom and wife. This was in the 1990's. Next encounter, Adam is a real grown man, sculpting large female sculptures. His art had a distinct look about it. The women were large, large breasted, hefty legs and bulging thighs and stomachs. They were enchanting and interesting. He had another side to him. He was fascinated with fantasy creatures such as horses, eagles, bats. He was doing quite well. I saw him at art fairs in the Denver area. He was selling and his booth created an immense interest from art enthusiasists. By this time, mid to late 2000's, he shared a booth with Lori Acott. A sculptor I was familiar with but didn't know well. She had a connection to Loveland because of her bronze art. Adam & Lori always shared a booth. So I knew they were an item. These two together formed a professional artist bond that enhanced both their personal lives and careers. Today they live in Red Cliff(?) above Fort Collins, and not only live and work in their state of the art studio but together they formed a monument moving and installation company (name?). They did this because the two of them sell enough large bronzes that it was the most financial alternative. They are on the road (how many days a year?) constantly, delivering their works to cities, or traveling to shows all over the country. Together they travel to Europe for workshops and tours of historic foundries. They are a modern day art partnership. Their lives are intertwined with art, work, study, business and promotion. They do it all....together. George and Cammie Lundeen. Like the other three couples, art was the ligtening rod that brought them together. It happened that George and Cammie had very similar styles from the get-go. Both were hyper-realistic bronze sculptors. George was already well-known by the time Cammie Crabtree moved to Loveland. She followed Denny Haskew or he followed her. (find that out) Afterall, Loveland was booming at the time with sculptors opening studios, sculptors moving to town to work in the industry. I may be wrong but I remember Cammie working at the Lundeen Studios on 4th Street. She was already quite accomplished. Her animals were and still remain the most emotionally attached and thoroughly soulful of any sculptor, still, today. Her life size portrait of two work horses "Moudie &" was the first work I saw of hers and it went straight to Benson Park. (find out sequence). Pretty soon there was talk that Cammie and George were an item. Then they were married. Just like that they were starting and contributing to a dynasty. George and Cammie made and still make a compelling force together. George has slowed down due to an eyesight problem (melecural degenerative?). But Cammie did, can and does manipulate clay in a way that makes even bronze and a French brown patina look soft in her creatures that undoubtedly shows the love and connection Cammie has to four-legged animals. George and Cammie married. The Fourth Street studio had an apartment where George lived, then with Cammie. And, in a couple of years moved to the west side of Loveland in a pastoral setting on the banks of the Big Thompson River. There they built a large home with a state-of-the-art barn, corral, and training arena. Cammie raised and trained horses. Known as an animal whisperer-type she took her standard poodle everywhere who was, by the way, lovely and well mannered. They had two (three?) children (?) who grew up riding horses, playing in the river, sharing a bucolic life-style at the Lundeen compound where Mark and his wife Liz Zimmerman Lundeen (yes, the daughter of Bob Zimmerman, founder of Art Castings) also built a house and raised their three children. The Fourth Street Studios were solid Lundeens: George, Cammie, Mark, Bets Lundeen (wife of Nils Lundeen, brother and accountant for the studios). George and Cammie are still married. The children are grown and living in Colorado (?). Cammie sculpts at home where she can take care of her animals and sculpt throughout the day. Her gentle touch with the heart of an animal is evident. George has always been a sculptor of people. There is no competition because each digs into a block of clay with different visions. George creates detail perfect men and women with clothes, costumes (the clown), couples enjoying a moment together, a solitary girl on a swing. Ben Franklin to children on a park bench are bronzes seen around the world in office buildings, street corners, the White House, parks and stadiums. Stopping for a visit to the Lundeen Studios/Gallery can be confusing. On display is George's work, Cammie's, Bet's, Mark's and their cousin (?). There is a signature finish to each of their works, I believe it runs in the family. Smooth, golden brown patinas, with occasional color for emphasis like in Cammies animals, the just born Painted-horse colt getting his first day's walking legs. The Lundeen style is unmistakeable. Cammie and George together are a powerhouse-couple. Other than sharing the same name, studio, home, and patinas their art, in its individual form, is headed for the history books. (G&C - approx 600 words) (look up other famous artists couples for fodder and interest)

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soyoureviewhiphoptoo · 7 years

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Reviewing 4:44

4:44 Released: June 30, 2017 Label: Roc Nation, Roc-A-Fella First Week Sales: TBA Certifications: TBA Peak Chart Position: TBA

Jay-Z is the greatest rapper of all time. It might be up for debate but it is hard to refute.

There is a handful of artists (not just limited to hip-hop) that can make the world pause and question everything when you put a message on a billboard. Jay-Z has grown to become one of them. After orange posters with 3 numbers written on them began to appear in Los Angeles and New York, the internet started to fathom the meaning of these three mysterious fours. Numerous fan theories, three black and white trailers and a multi-million-dollar partnership with American telecommunication giants, Sprint later…we had the answer. The answer was his thirteenth studio album, 4:44.

Your favourite rapper cannot get a billboard to promote their album like this…probably

Since the release of the lukewarm Magna Carta… Holy Grail four years ago, a lot of things have happened to Jay-Z: he relinquished his ownership of NBA team, the Brooklyn Nets, he would become owner of Ace of Spades champagne, he launched a sport management company, he supported Democratic presidential candidate, Hillary Clinton, he’s thrown shots at Drake and so on and so on. But there are three things that happened in this 4-year gap that are not only large impacts in his life but impacts toward this new album: his altercation with his sister-in-law Solange during the 2014 Met Gala, the acquisition of streaming service, Tidal and (this one is very important), the release of Beyoncé’s Lemonade.

What’s worse? Being jealous or crazy? Taken from Beyonce- Hold Up

With the release of an album discussing the infidelity of a husband and his wife going through stages of denial, anger and depression before she is willing to accept him back into her life and rebuild the broken relationship, many listeners began to speculate whether this was just an album concept or a reflection of Beyoncé’s own marriage to Mr. Shawn Carter. Lemonade would act as a justification to Solange’s actions years prior or even older song lyrics that may have been overlooked. Many people (myself included) thought this was far-fetched and assumed it was a part of an elaborate ruse to sell records and up Tidal subscriptions. In some respects, 4:44 acts as a response to Lemonade and it proves the suspicions correct but in such a way that leaves you searching for words.

Referencing this first in the opening track, Kill Jay-Z, Hov mentions

“You almost went Eric Benét Let the baddest girl in the world get away”

Eric Benét is the ex-husband of Halle Berry. The pair divorced after his own continued infidelity. Jay draws parallels to Eric, noting that his own infidelity almost led to the same outcome. It was on the titular track, however, where Jay spills his heart. He makes it crystal clear that he had been unfaithful to his partner in the past and tries to justify these actions. In a wave of open honesty, he talks about his emotional immaturity going into the relationship fifteen years prior, the toll of not being able to be present for Beyoncé following a miscarriage in 2010/2011, the feeling of watching her change emotionally due to his actions but not being able to rectify it, how his actions drove a wedge between the two of them and how this negativity forced them into isolation. The most daunting aspect of this song is how the first few lines link with the final verse.

“Look, I apologize, often womanize Took for my child to be born See through a woman’s eyes Took for these natural twins to believe in miracles Took me too long for this song”

In these lines, Jay openly admits that it took the birth of his daughter, Blue Ivy for him to truly see the errors of his ways while the birth of his twin children, Rumi and Sir, made him see miracles, like the birth of twins or Beyoncé taking him back, are possible. In the third verse, the thoughts he would have when looking at his children become apparent as he questions how they would look at him if they were to learn that their father cheated on their mother, comparing it to learning Santa Claus was fake or that the Tooth Fairy didn’t leave any money. Without further explanation, it is very clear this has taken a lot out of him. What makes the song even more impactful is the production. The use of Hannah Willaims’ Late Nights and Heartbreak as the sample literally exudes emotion, putting Jay’s message in very simple terms “Never gonna treat you like I should”.

Despite this very prominent message from this album, 4:44 is not just a rebuttal to Lemonade, offering so much more insight and knowledge. A strong entry in this album is The Story of O.J. In this song criticises the decisions of black males in America, openly telling them that they do not know how to use their relatively new-found wealth. Rather than just spending the money on lavish possessions, Jay advises Black Americans to make wise investments into businesses or property. This is interesting as Hov himself has been in the position of just throwing money away on nice things and he’s been forced to look back at his mistakes. What makes this song even more interesting is the hook;

“Light nigga, dark nigga, faux nigga, real nigga Rich nigga, poor nigga, house nigga, field nigga Still nigga, still nigga”

The idea of this is that no matter what you do or how you act, as a black man, you will still be viewed as a lower-class citizen by certain social circles in America (just like O.J. Simpson, who’s namesake is used for the title). In fact, the ideas of unifying the black community under one view, supporting black owned businesses and establishing black wealth and not just riches, is a re-occurring theme within 4:44, further expanded in Family Feud, Moonlight and Legacy.

Aside from actually listening to this album, the one thing I want you to do is to find a way to watch the music video for The Story of O.J. It is remarkable.

Another interesting takeaway from 4:44 comes from Smile. In this song, he reminisces upon bad memories. In the first verse, Jay-Z reveals that his mother is homosexual. The idea of her living her whole life in the closet, the fear of the possible prosecution she would receive and even entering a marriage with a man as a means of disguising her true self is frankly heart-breaking and yet finally she was able to smile. This strength is clearly hereditary as Jay shares this same fortitude, being able to live through struggles in the hood yet he was able to accomplish so much…and smile.

With the spectacular production by No I.D. on the ten tracks, Jay-Z is able to deliver a concise yet impactful sermon listeners (more specifically black listeners) can absorb and truly learn from. While I am not entirely a fan of this album being a Tidal exclusive, this album has definitely made it worth applying for a membership. With three bonus tracks on the way when it goes on sale and a prospective visual album experience soon to come, it is hard to dispute the greatness of this album.

Jay-Z is the greatest rapper alive. It might be up for debate but it is hard to refute, especially with this album

Rating for Jay-Z- 4:44

Thank you, Mr. Savage…it’s a new thing I’m doing. The point is, 4:44 is a 5/5

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