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Ridikulus Pt 38

Ready for the ride later in warm jeans and heeled boots a long maroon sweater was topped with a second short vest you walked down to breakfast with freshly woken Em who the Pears would be watching today. All around the table you found your family that set off small confetti charms and jostled you around in hugs and mild teases on the spur nuptials. Food however picked up the focus of your attention. Regulus and Lindir came down claiming their chairs with Regulus holding the jar in hand of the freshly rinsed Dwarf rings the night prior he dipped in Basilisk venom for you he passed to Hermione saying, “I guess you can give these back to the Durins when you drop by Fili’s today.”

She shifted the jar in her hand saying, “Well I’m actually only seeing Dis and Niro today, but they would be glad for them. Might not be glad to pass on there’s a new Elf Kingdom to add to the mix of allies.”

That had you chuckle, “Seemed to be empty aside from animals but it’s more just a move of the returned Elves to more space for them to spread out. If he really wants to balance it out they could always bring some Hobbits and challenge their populations.” That had her giggle as you added, “Bring in some adorable young Hobbit Smials full of some pretty Hobbits, set up a nice match making center and get some more Dwarf babies in the mix.”

Hermione smiled saying, “Thorin has mentioned it. They always had some great customers out in the Shire, especially for their tilling tools and such. Though he also mentioned having to bring the topic to the table with you since technically we are sharing lands and it might take off some territory from our lands.”

“Oh sure, I guess. I’m taking the Pegasus on their flight later after school over Greenwood, if he’s free we could talk there at supper if he likes, or even a lunch today or another day when it fits his schedule.”

She nodded, “I’ll let them know.”

Classes were a welcome thing to shift your focus from the morning barrage of the Pears who exploded with the news of the elopement that shifted the view of the big celebration for your birthday coming up in their eyes for a suitably grand welcome to the new world. A double wedding was proving hard to plan for your relatives or even to imagine so this was an approvable alternative for everyone. And naturally as Tuesday you and next to Minerva you sat drinking your tea sharing news of the week and decompressing in the traditional time with your godmother now looking closer to her 40’s and younger by the day.

A knock on the door had the cup in Minerva’s hand lowering for her to say, “Come in.”

The door eased open and through it came Dumbledore who shut the door and turned to come and join you both approaching the carpet the table was resting on he stopped at the edge of. “Sorry to disturb Minerva, however I wished to speak to the both of you.” His eyes shifted to you as your eyes rose from the Elder wand in his fingers that kept smoothing over the strips between the knots. “Jaqiearae,” he sighed softly saying, “For years now there has been a tension of sorts between us, on our differing paths to the same goal. Mainly for my own reluctance on sharing my own beliefs and opinions. I never truly thanked you, for all you have endured to see to Voldemort’s death and the downfall of R and the Augreys. How truly humbling it is to know how much pain you had to endure to get to that point. I cannot fathom all the struggles involved and how I had compounded that weight upon you. I saw your pain, I saw the exhaustion, and I did nothing. That is something I cannot erase, I broke your trust and was unwilling to trust completely myself.”

He paused a moment for a new breath and then added, “My reason for coming today is that I have been contacted by the current Headmaster of Durmstrang, the position has been shaky since Igor has died. I have accepted the position and upon the beginning of the fall term I will be there to see if I might to instill some much needed stability to their school. I truly do cherish every moment I have spent on these grounds and there is no one, Minerva, else who I would entrust with charge of these grounds and the minds to shape inside of them.”

“Oh wow,” you muttered.

He gave you a kind grin, “I am so inexplicably proud to have had you among the pupils we taught here and will be keeping up with the path of the Kenmare Kestrals and rooting you on. Perhaps some space might be best for us all and allow some time to heal and reflect.”

Minerva said, “You are certain of this?”

Dumbledore nodded, “Yes, most of my time for the remaining weeks will be contacting choices to instruct as most of theirs have been taking to flying off in the middle of the night. Much worse than the hexed position all over again. The full school is bent on wreaking havoc, so for a few days at least I am traveling out there to assess the damage and to see where I might improve upon things. I shall return however in time for your birthday celebration, I did wish to leave this to you.” He said offering you the Elder Wand that you timidly accepted. “Since our arrival here it seems to have broken its trust with me as well. Refusing to cast barely anything,” his smile eased out, “Took me quite some time to find my former wand, and ooh, did it nip at me for the decades of neglect.” His eyes shifted to Minerva again while you eyed the wand you felt pulsing in your fingertips, “I will always treasure our friendship and I will never find a friendship as golden and pure as ours no matter how kind the Professors try to be to me to gain my favor. Fawkes will certainly enjoy the flights for our correspondence.”

By the time you looked up again he was on his way through the door he closed behind himself, to her your eyes shifted and you asked, “Did he just quit?”

Minerva, “Gave notice, however, I never assumed to inherit this school without his death.”

“I don’t know how to feel about this.”

She flashed you a calming grin, “Well, we will carry on and endure. Perhaps Durmstrang truly is in trouble to have contacted him.”

“Or he just wanted the furthest spot from me next term.”

At that she chuckled and shook her head, “Not true, if anything he is not looking forward to finding a replacement for Professor Sprout.”

“She’s retiring?”

“Not quite, but possibly soon. Carrying the students and all of their work since her aid was killed is rather rough on her.”

“If she needs an aid you can write to Neville, they’re outsourcing his role in May now that Remus is settling all the Aurors into positions permanently.”

Minerva, “Neville would be perfect for the position. I’ll write him in my exam time in my next class. I am certain he will respond quickly.”

That had you giggle, “He’ll answer within the hour would be my bet.” She echoed with a chuckle of her own.

Fully opened for the day Weasley Wizard Wheezes was filling with the chatter and sounds echoing of the enchanted toys floating around above Dudley in his final check up on the displays while Ginny locked the register and pulled out the order sheet for the items and potions not in stock to be made and prepped later. It didn’t take long until the first customers entered and the pair assisted each of them while the blonde upstairs finished restocking another display while keeping an eye on the customers ensuring the others wouldn’t get overwhelmed while they did the menial tasks.

A few hours in however a timid pair of Dwarves found their way inside. The ginger haired thickly bearded shorter one led his chestnut haired husband through the shop. Their green eyes shining hopefully while they looked over the displays only for them to turn back towards the door when they saw no sign of the one they wanted. Halfway however Dudley stopped in their path asking, “Can I help you find something?”

Wetting his lips the chestnut haired one peered up at the teen asking, “We were just browsing.”

Dudley nodded as they stuttered a step then he asked, “It wouldn’t happen to be about that gender potion? Would it?” Their lips parted and Dudley said, “Jaqi’s not here, but she said to take down the information of any coming to ask about it and she’d set an appointment to collect what’s needed.” The couple glanced at one another and Dudley stated, “We have one of our friends coming up with a Dwarvish sign. Should be in later today.” He drew a journal out of his back pocket along with a pen he uncapped, and gave them a soft grin handing the pair to the couple who wrote down their names and address for their home in Erebor then passed them back.

Dudley grinned again and said, “I’ll make sure she gets this by lunch, she’s due to drop in today, and she will contact you for a consultation.”

The pair bowed their heads thanking Dudley then hurried back out again making him chuckle and head back to Ginny who asked, “First gender potion request?”

Dudley nodded and chuckled, “We might want to hurry up with a sign. They nearly left.”

Ginny nodded, “Well, shouldn’t take too long now till we get more filing in to give their names.”

Dudley, “Just hope they don’t all start bustling in at once. I doubt they could handle more than two at a time.”

Ginny chuckled, “Well it’s a big step, I doubt they would come out in droves.”

“Ada, I heard you wished to speak to me?” Legolas stated upon entering the study of his apartment finding a set of notes from the celebration he wanted to triple check the progress of.

Turned around the King smiled and said, “Yes, how were your patrols?”

“Very well, still clear of spiders and pests. Although there are some mountain goat herds trampling upon badger territories in our upper rings. Nothing too terribly troubling for us to send aid, and we uncovered a hidden troll hoard with more spoils we brought back to inspect and redistribute.”

“That is impressive.” The trip within the mirror was described in the move to the seating area and in each hand movement the rings came to his focus spreading is father’s smile until he could say, “And the largest news is we are married.”

Legolas said, “Was the plan not to propose marriage? I am pleased, so very pleased, merely confused.”

Thranduil inhaled and eased a bit closer to his son on the chair across from his, “That was the initial plan to honor her customs, however it was her offer to honor our culture to claim us as her husbands and could merely inform others we had eloped and to hold a celebratory dinner. In fact made these rings for us, the larger for an engagement ring of our own and for our wedding bands.” He showed his rings to Legolas who smiled wider sharing, “Each of these opals are for our children between us, yours in the center, they grow as our little ones do. For the future a ceremony may come or it may just remain a dinner, however for now we are married and discovering where we are traveling together in our lives.”

“I did not expect to be included in demonstrations of your union.”

Thranduil gave him a comforting grin, “I understand that. You are fully grown so naturally it would not be expected for her to have claimed you as one of our children, however you are my son and she in no way would exclude you as part of our family. Even Naneth is gaining a friendship with Jaqi. I do believe the intention was honorable for her to have decided on her own without discussing with us first.”

“Are there intentions of a shift of my rank now heirs are a possibility?”

“Absolutely not, no. Our relationship does not alter our status. This union is not for the intention of altering anyone’s rank. That we have discussed, for the time being Jaqi has requested to assist me when possible in our settling. Yet when it comes to the weight of full rule as Queen she is requiring time. There are still great wounds requiring time to heal, this is how we are going to help her. We have so much to learn about one another and no, there are no intentions of any shift of power. For now we welcome her on her birthday to her rule and allow things to settle as they do.”

Legolas asked, “How may I help?”

“For now, we will keep focus on the celebration and later today Jaqi has requested permission to escort a herd of flying horses over our forest as a means of their first flight. For which I fully anticipate Thengel to arrive.” Making his son smirk and get back to his apartment to bathe, change and pick up on finishing off your gift he was making you.

Times of council alone was something that had drawn Lord Elrond to the Black Family Home. Back to speak with a fellow emotionally wounded father with whom he had grown to become frond of a friendship and personal talks together. And here he sat across from Sirius Black with his adopted son in hand once he had been changed. The child in question being a good doorway to aid in airing some more weight lifting details for his friend. “Was his father a good man?”

“Harry was, tried to be. Not much of a chance to be. Better father than his had been as it should be. Little Fin is going to be a great man one day.”

Elrond asked, “If I may, what did his grandfather do to earn that image in your eyes? I was under the understanding the pair of you were close having married sisters who both mothered your children.”

“Yes. We did. And James and me went back farther than that. Back since first year when he caught on I didn’t want to go home. My parents took it terribly that I wasn’t in Slytherin like Reg ended up. Drove a wedge between us for the apparent slight on the family name. But eventually I needed a place to go and the Potters took me in. Normally my parents would have tracked me down and drug me back by my hair but they were one of the Sacred 28 and socially accepted as one of our old relations. They had James late in life and he was their golden child who could do no wrong. That went to his head.

Jewels, Lily and Sev were three peas in a pod even when they were sorted apart. James saw Lily and I saw Jewels so we had a common target to wedge ourselves between for their company. Didn’t work only pissed the girls off. But by the time we were in our fifth year the pranks and rivalry grew to something more for James.

One day Sev was under a tree and Lily had turned him down again so he was already and after Sev got top marks in our class yet again over James’ pitiful Troll mark he saw red. Went over and I thought it was just a bit of ribbing, some verbal jabs to blow off but he strung him up. Then I saw him undo Sev’s belt and I could see Jewels on her way over ready to murder James, so I blasted James first.

Jewels already had two strikes after having snuck out to the Centaur herds a couple times and irritating the patience out of the latest batch of creatures for Magical Creatures class till they flew off to hide in the Herbology greenhouses. She loved Sev, since they were kids, even though he loved Lily, and she was settling into that and saw that no matter how much she made herself look like Lily he’d never pick her. But she’d never let James cross lines before and that look in her eye I knew would be the end. I bound him up and drug him to McGonagall’s knowing she’d lay into him unlike Dumbledore who’d try to always say boys will be boys. And that Sev always gave as good as he got.”

Elrond stated in his pause, “That was very brave of you.”

Sirius chuckled breathlessly to himself, “No. it was selfish, he got a year’s detention and kicked off the Quidditch team. Never forgave me for that. Gave Reg a firing chance at the Cup that year. Never heard the end of that either.” His face went serious and he continued, “James didn’t let me back in the dorm the rest of the year after I asked him if he’d attack Reg too if he had the chance. Used to keep bringing up that Reg was slotted to join the Death Eaters like Sev wanted to. Back then there was only one choice full or half blood, join or die. And even though Sev was a half-blood they needed bodies.”

Elrond asked, “Did he let you back that summer, you shared before you lived with his family.”

“No. Or well, didn’t give him a chance to turn me down. He could be so exhausting at times to be around when he felt empowered. Wasn’t the first time we’d had a spat and he’d kicked me out. But this time my cousin Andromeda and her at the time boyfriend Teddy, they were lined up for a Muggle duplex near to where Jewels lived and so I said I’d chip in for the spare room and Reg ended up with us in the other apartment with Sev who needed an out of his own from his dad. He had an in with a record shop that hired kids during the summer and we all lived pretty rough that summer, but Jewels always came round.

Finally strong enough to look like herself and not Lily’s twin, and was she beautiful first time she let me see the real her. Just like I’d seen the moon the first time. And that was when she decided to find out who her birth family was when her and Petunia and Lily had a row of their own. Something about their dad being sick set them all off. And then about half the year when we got back to Hogwarts I spent most of the year sneaking to Reg’s dorm. Christmas break Reg went round for the first time to Riddle’s hideout and was told to tidy up. Found a hidden hatch in his library. Liked to keep journals and scrapbooks. Bits and pieces that Reg snuck a Muggle camera in the next time to page by page capture what was on it or Riddle’d caught on that someone made a copy. James could never keep his nose out of things for his own good and sniffed out we were up to mischief and by next term again he was back round when he saw we’d drawn Remus in to try and figure out what the clippings meant.

We never told him about the horcruxes, just said it had something to do with Riddle’s plans. Drove him wild and by his last year he’d gotten Lily and Jewels and I were going strong in the break Sev had to take from their friendship when his dad died as he had to help his Mum at home through that. And Dumbledore even though he’s not been a Prefect made James Head Boy since he seemed to turn a new leaf and still required some busy work and heavy tasks to distract that he’d not be on the team again his final year. Did all he could to keep that mark off his file but McGonagall insisted and it transferred to his Ministry file, he got his Auror’s badge but they labeled him a loose canon and never let him out unsupervised.”

Elrond, “How does the pregnancy with Jaqi fit into the drama? I know she bears a weight from it as well.”

“Ah, well, we found out Jewels was pregnant at school first term and over Holiday break final year we spoke to her parents, we needed their permission to wed. And of course I sucked up my pride and went home. Mum almost threw us off the stoop till she caught Jewel’s eyes, Slytherin’s eyes. We shared her bloodline we’d uncovered from the Gaunts and she agreed right away. Signed the license and even set me up with a hefty allowance and changed her will. My cousins Narcissa and Bellatrix had already gotten engaged to wealthy suitors so they no longer required inheritance and Andromeda chose a Muggle. So Mum spoke to our aunt and uncle and they all set up Jaqi’s inheritance as the youngest female descendant, Mum of course wrote me a sum and the properties as the eldest with a larger sum for Reg as long as I swore to always grant him a roof. Which was not a hard deal already said as much to him when we were little.

And of course when we got back Jewels got on an accelerated course which I got pushed into as well to be there when she gave birth. McGonagall was always so supportive so we chose her as Godmother and she took time off too to help us when April came round. Sev showed up when school got out to our house and came with us to visits with my Mum, who loved having another girl for the Black clan, especially one with Slytherin’s eyes. Jewels got a spot with a theater troupe and we had a nice little life, I didn’t mind the lesser rank in the Ministry after their distrust gave me more time with my girls.”

“Distrust?”

“I turned James in. My best friend who took me in. Broke an old boy’s code. Part of how Fudge thought I was guilty of already turned on James once before and stunted his career.” Sirius shook his head, “But I got distracted and forgot to look out for Peter, and, he turned on us all. Harry got James’ brash decisions and assured headstrong nature. Fin’ll be better, safer. I’d give so much to have given Pumpkin a safe and happy childhood, and I will always wear that weight for not having done more. But now I have to keep this boy safe and loved, and hope for better than we could achieve.”

Elrond spoke smoothly, “I have no doubts Jaqi has many fond memories in her childhood, and you are alive. In that she is safe, she has you and her daughter will be her motivation as Phineas is yours to protect the future from errors of the past. I have known war and mutilated cultures, and have raised three safe protected children, who yes, know pain, but also endurance and hope for a brighter tomorrow. Which will be all the brighter thanks to you and you family.”

Sirius chuckled, “I didn’t do much beyond annoy you and the other Lords until Pumpkin showed up by prolonging the wait to find that ring. And she did it with a flick of her wrist. Every bit the same explosive resilience her Mum gave her with those same haunted eyes. I used to flinch sharing my name, now, because of her we are truly the Noble House of Black, Jaqiearae’s line. Sometimes I have no clue where she gets it from.”

Elrond chuckled and replied, “All the mirrors in your home are broken I would presume,” that had the father’s smirk at one another, “It is truth and nothing more. Somewhere in there you had a hand in her steadfast strength.”

Sirius chuckled again, “More like Minerva imbued part of her own fire in my girl, every bit influenced by that brilliant Scot. Couldn’t have chosen a better Godmother. Woman can be downright terrifying with a single tick of her brow and angle of her chin.” After a hushed chuckle he asked with a smirk to his friend, “Now, my turn for a question.” Elrond nodded to that. “What type of husbands has my Pumpkin chosen? And I don’t mean rank. Thranduil has his son and Glorfindel has shared he’s raised kids before, but there’s five babies now, including my granddaughter and I won’t have my Pumpkin or her Jelly Bean suffering from some hidden clause they didn’t know about.”

Elrond’s smile split across his face and he relaxed into this path of sharing more towards the fathering techniques and patterns the both of your husbands had to ease these understandable doubts and questions. While himself in a bout of self soothing as well while from time to time flashes of those memories of your suffering had him wishing more than anything to aid in a smooth transition for the three of you upon tackling the process of learning one another even more and to master the topic of parenting your five children.

“Ready Buckbeak?” You said and the Hippogriff squawked happily behind you with the glare he was giving to the teen winged horses around you to keep them from nipping at you in the circle of appointed adult winged horses from various breeds to guard their own foals that were ready to get flying. Turned around the neck behind you it was easy to hop up onto Buckbeak’s back to signal his turn and trot to take off into the air. Right behind him hooves thundered with at a great distance the students caught the fifty foals and twelve fully grown winged horses that took into the air off towards the Greater Greenwood. Off to the side you soared to let the lead stallions guide the group across the Black Lake and field beyond that. A river came next past a green hilly pasture the herd excitedly eyed and fanned out into their own groups on the stretch for the seemingly endless forest ahead.

Winds thankfully were less harsh beyond the river with a few spotty clouds in between the younger foals were shown which to fly over and which to fly through. Content on the flight Buckbeak soared with feathers rippling to the whip off your curls in a braided ponytail out behind you to the shivers of your sweater secured by your vest. All ignored while you kept your eyes open for any dangers with wand at the ready on your thigh and the other hand on the tolerated scarf around Buckbeak’s neck he preferred to a rope when being ridden. Halfway over Amon Lanc under the shorter trees between the larger trees around the rebuilt keep Elves down below peered up at the stunning creatures that bounced on a new wind current that had shifted and settled again for their formations to relax back into their flight when the group was over the trees again.

Zig zags and long curved path changes you swung around widely helped to cover a vast stretch of the forest from the golden sky long past the moment when the stars surrounded you that hindered clear views of the herds they could hear far above them. Though dipping down between a ring of trees at the clear signs of growing tired into the inner ring of the Palace Buckbeak led the way for a clear spring near the portals that the foals could use to get back to the Forbidden Forest easily once they had rested. Into the open pathways crowds darted and behind the guards with heads turning on their own. Halfway across the field Buckbeak stopped at the trio of boys excitedly jumping beside Thranduil and Glorfindel with Legolas darting out of the Palace himself while Thengel stood open mouthed gawking at the creatures passing him. Loud and clear the snarl from a foal was cut off by Buckbeak’s squawk and kick his way blocking the children with his body, through which you swung your leg over and slid off his back to walk to the trio.

“Hey boys. Come meet Buckbeak.” Excitedly they hurried over to the Hippogriff that you explained and guided them on strokes of his head and the ends of his wings he stretched for them.

Thengel came over, “These are your steeds?”

When you met his eye you smiled and said, “Not mainly. Hippogriffs rarely allow people to ride them, but Buckbeak was born and raised at Hogwarts around us, wild ones don’t hardly let people around them and Pegasus even less so. These, well the golden breeds,” you said pointing over the foals fanned out at the stream to drink while the Stallions took turns drinking and keeping watch with a pure white stallion that lingered near Buckbeak. “They were raised on Hogwarts grounds, most of the others except for Nimbus here were wild ones we rescued from the war. They normally live on cliff sides and tend to attack people who come close. Even Nimbus won’t let people ride him but,” you said waving your wand over your palm summoning a tray of fruit that lured it closer with wings fidgeting excitedly. “He can be bribed to tolerate people at a distance. Oddly enough the fanged breeds are the ones who can be brought around people, the fangless breeds remain in their nests on the cliffs. Should have their homes ready for them soon enough to be released to. For now these little guys needed their first flight.”

Thengel watched you walk over and hover a slice up for him to eat and their mouths dropped open again at the fangs revealed. The snacks however lured a couple grey freckled foals closer you offered fruit to turning more heads from the foals that refused to come closer but still tolerated the treats for each of them. Nimbus however was off with a haughty tail flick to get his own drink as the boys came closer as Legolas asked, “Does Buckbeak not eat fruit?”

“He eats dead ferrets actually.” You said with a smirk in his move closer to circle Thengel to get a look at his daughter behind his boots. “Probably not as fun for little kids to watch.”

Glorfindel said in a step closer to your side, “I recall you mentioning Unicorns as well. What do they eat?”

Estel with an apple sliced up from his snack inside he’d brought out to the sight of the herd timidly watched Buckbeak curious if he should offer him the apple he’d moved away from earlier in their pets. Thengel looked from the Hippogriff’s back to you, “Unicorns?” then back to his daughter he picked up granting her courage to touch Buckbeak’s head.

With a smile you giggled and popped off to the Forbidden Forest puzzling the golden haired King while Thranduil and Legolas took a creeping step to inspect the oddly pink group of foals mingled with a mint green pair.

Suddenly your doorway appeared and through it gasps were earned at the sight of a shimmering Unicorn that timidly followed you through it into the clearing near the wide eyed boys. Onto the tray peaches appeared and once sliced they were lowered to the boys it lowered its head to peer at analytically. Thengel just about shrieked in excitement yet held it back to a squeak in Buckbeak’s path to your side at your summoning some ferrets for him to eat off to the side near the stream the herd left to walk to the doorway to head home again. With a grin you turned to offer a slice of the peaches to the Unicorn peering over your shoulder, “And Unicorns, rarely come out at all, but Tibby here was found as a filly and raised by a friend of mine at Hogwarts. Still shy but for small bursts she’ll let the students inspect her for lessons.”

Inched closer to your offered palm the boys lifted the slices that she crept closer to your hushed whisper for confidence in that she was safe. Her moonlit shimmering coat had the Elves in awe watching her timidly take each slice offered. At the end of the Pegasus herd leaving a curious golden filly crept closer to the doorway and to her mother’s side came an even more stunning golden filly crept to the excited boys, “And this is Libby, Tibby’s youngest, and possibly bravest.” You giggled out at Tibby’s move to hide her head behind you in Thengel’s move closer.

Thengel asked, “Why are they afraid?”

You turned to say, “Because they’ve been hunted nearly to extinction before. Most only approach women they come across,” you said at Tibby’s head lowering to the boys’ pats on her legs that she answered with letting them pat her snout. Libby drew the closest to Thengel in his lowering his daughter who accepted a slice from you to feed her earning giggles from the girl. “Now we have strict laws protecting their herds and territory they live in that the Centaurs defend mercilessly. After all it’s unforgivable to harm a creature so pure, in fact those who do live a half life, a cursed life. We do use the hairs from their tails for wands but only shed hairs the Centaurs trade with us annually.” Down Tibby’s neck your hand smoothed at her warning snicker that she was ready to head back home in Buckbeak’s trot to the doorway to inspect an odd birdcall.

Thengel’s eyes however caught on one of the Centaur’s that came into view on his rounds that kept on seeing that you were there to guard the pair close to only you and the children. “I cannot fathom anyone harming these beautiful creatures.”

That had you grin in the mare’s eager turn with a final snatch of the last peach slice on the tray with her tail brushing against your arm answered with a pat on her back hip. Up to your side Libby trotted and reared up making you giggle in her hooves pressing to your hips allowing you to press a kiss to the side of her snout while your hand stroked the other side. Down she went in a turn trotting after her mother through the doorway that vanished behind her. Excitedly the boys chuckled as you lowered and gave you tight hugs chattering about the creatures on the way to bring you to supper.

#HP Crossover #Glorfindel x Reader OC #Thranduil x Reader OC #Sirius Black & Fin #Elrond #Thengel & His Sunshine #Buckbeak #Pegasus #Sharing the Past #Flight over Greater Greenwood #Elurin & Elured #Estel #Unicorn

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ddagent · 4 years

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Follow up for lost in time jaime!!! I need to know what happens!!

Here we are! Prompt #100! I hope you enjoy.

“So, do you believe me?”

Jaime turned to Tyrion Lannister, his great-however-many-grandfather, and watched him adopt a polite expression. He laid a hand atop Jaime’s wrist. “I believe you’ve suffered a great deal, Brother. Your time in captivity—”

“—really? I’m suffering from PTSD? And, what, made up this story that I’m from six-hundred years in the future to offer myself a little peace of mind?”

Something which Jaime Lannister, of the year 907 AC, had little of at that very moment. After all, it’s not every day you fell asleep beside your amazing wife and then woke up in the Red Keep during one of the most bloody eras in Westerosi history. Once he’d pinched himself and tried and failed to find phone signal, Jaime had just accepted that he was one of those historians who had gone back in time. And that if he was going to get back to his girls, he’d need some help.

Hence Tyrion Lannister, his great-however-many-grandfather, who was being a right pain in the arse about this whole ‘from the future’ thing. The easiest way to prove himself would be his phone; technological advancements that wouldn’t even be a daydream for another five hundred years. But Jaime couldn’t risk it breaking; the photos of Brienne and Catelyn were more precious than all the gold a Lannister could ever hoard.

“Is there any way I can prove what I’m telling you is true? I’ve read all your journals, you know; I know everything about your life before and after this point. Things that not even your brother would know.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Very well. Tell me something that you, from the future, would know about my life that my brother couldn’t possibly know.”

Fine. Let’s do this. “You haven’t, nor will you ever, consummate your marriage to Que—” He coughed, clearing his throat, and trying not to disturb all of history with his presence. “—to Sansa Stark.”

He shrugged. “She’s a child; it’s a fair assumption to make.”

“Her handmaiden is a sex worker you’ve fallen for.”

“Again, a fair assumption to make.”

Jaime racked his brains, trying to recall Tyrion’s journal. Honestly, he’d always been more fascinated by his great-however-many-uncle, and had studied the passages relating to him more closely than any other. Including the downright creepy relationship he’d had with his sister, which had been part of a four-week lecture series Cat had given on sex, power, and gender during the War of the Five Kings.

“Your sister’s been banging your cousin.” He wrinkled his nose, just as Tyrion’s mouth dropped open. “You want to tell him, but you’re unsure whether he’ll believe you, and don’t want to make him choose between you and her as you’re not sure who he’ll choose.”

Tyrion’s face fell. “Yes.”

“My name is Jaime Lannister. I’m a history lecturer at King’s Landing University, an off-shoot of the Citadel. I’m married, with one daughter, and I don’t know what I am doing here but I know I have to get home.”

Tyrion nodded. “I–I believe you. Please allow me a moment, Jaime. This is rather a lot to process.”

Jaime gave him a moment. Gave him two, even. He ducked out of Tyrion’s chambers and headed for the balcony, drawing in a deep breath of sea air. The Red Keep would stand for another four years, but would fall in the Second Sack of Kings’s Landing. There would be rebuilding, redevelopment, and in five hundred and ninety-five years, Jaime’s father would set out his plans to build exclusive apartment buildings.

Brienne would really get a kick out of the fact that their apartment really was where the White Sword Tower had stood. Brienne. Jaime reached inside the tan jacket he’d taken from his counterpart’s room and found his phone. The screen sprung to life, loaded, and displayed his wife holding their daughter on the beaches of Tarth. An ache settled in Jaime’s bones. She should be here with him. Their love of history had brought them together; she would adore every second of this.

The door to Tyrion’s chambers opened; Ser Podrick Payne, the future Lord Commander of Queen Sansa’s guard, talked to Tyrion. Jaime took the opportunity to power down his phone and step back inside.

“My Lord.”

Jaime grinned. My Lord. People only called him that during re-enactments, or when he and Brienne roleplayed in the bedroom. “Podrick, isn’t it?” he said, as if he hadn’t been read Payne’s own accounts by his wife many, many times.

“It is.”

“Podrick here has been dismissed for the day whilst we take a walk around the gardens. Get my brother some colour. Enjoy yourself, Podrick.” Tyrion pressed three gold dragons into his hand, and the boy quickly scurried off. “Come on.”

It was different walking with the Tyrion of this time compared to his own brother. In 907 AC, they were two incredibly attractive, incredibly wealthy men. But in this time, eyes quickly darted away. The legacy of the Kingslayer, and no doubt his amputation, made many wary to meet his eye. As they settled themselves on a veranda overlooking the Godswood, Tyrion tugged at his right sleeve.

“You lost your hand, too.”

“Car accident. About ten years ago."

“A...car?”

“Fuck.” Jaime exhaled. “It’s a long story. But I nearly died and afterwards I decided to change my life around.”

Tyrion paused, then said, “And how do we die? Jaime and I? All of us?”

He was remiss to share too much. How could he explain that his nephews and niece would all perish over the next three years; that Tywin Lannister would die at Tyrion’s own hands? That Cers*i would die in this very castle; Winter finally coming South? And how much would Jaime’s presence change all that? Sighing, he answered his first question as best he could.

“In Casterly Rock, with your wife beside you.” Tyrion’s face grew impossibly soft, and Jaime was reminded of his brother and that ache grew again. “Jaime dies in Winterfell, fighting the dead. He dies in the arms of Brienne of Tarth. With his last breath, he tells her everything he’s ever felt for her. Before the Stranger takes him, she does the same.”

A flash of blue steals Jaime’s attention, and he looks back out into the gardens to see what could only be the future Ser Brienne of Tarth walking the grounds with a shorter brunette. It felt like someone had punched him in the gut. She looked so much like his Brienne. Hair was shorter; her build perhaps a little more muscular. But that was his wife standing right there.

“We always joke that we’re a second chance from the Gods. That they wanted us together so much that they brought us back six hundred years later and pushed us together.” Jaime swallowed. “It always pained me, knowing he was so close to happiness but never got to love her for more than a few minutes.”

“Jaime—”

“—she does find happiness with her husband; some Stormlands knight. And that’s enough and it brought me my wife, but if they could be even half as happy as Brienne and I are...maybe that’s why I’m here. I’m here to bring them together.”

There was more he could do, of course. But he feared the ripple effect it would have on his future. But this he could do. He would always be Tyrion’s great-however-many-grandson. But instead of a Stormlands knight, Brienne’s great-however-many-grandfather would be Ser Jaime Lannister, Goldenhand the Just, himself. Who, if they had swapped places, was hopefully playing nice with his wife.

#braime #jaime x brienne #ship: braime #mine: paragraph prompts #anonymous #fic: time travel verse #i'm really sorry follow up week has been a let down #hopefully I can make it up to you all

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maximvms-blog · 5 years

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HEY HOW’S IT GOIN’ GUYS. it’s ya girl aura and i’m back for veritas: quarter quell edition ! i’m a 20 year old garbage can ( she / her or they / them pronouns plz ) from pst timezone. as you can clearly see, i am a mess, but i’m here to have fun and get to know all of you guys !! i can’t WAIT to unlock the mysteries of this rp, and i know for a fact its going to actually destroy me, so heads up: i’m diagnosed babey and cry over everything all the time. that being said, i also love pain so while i may be crying, i am also THRIVING !! i’m also an artist so i hope ya’ll are ready for me to occasionally draw the shenanigans that happen here. it’s gonna be a TIME !

anyway, enough about me ! click the neat little read more button to get to know my baby boy, maxi-pad. if you like what you see, also feel free to hit that ♥ and i’ll pop into your tumblr or discord ims to aggressively keysmash a plot out. sounds good ? GREAT !! can’t wait to talk to you all asfkalsdjfasfd i’m so excited !

skeleton: the ace faceclaim: froy gutierrez name: max thomas gender & pronouns: cis male ( he/him ) age: twenty-two major: zoology clubs: captain of the track & field and football team ; student government secretary living arrangement: auberlin apartments / apartment 01 employment: unemployed, but occasionally volunteers places & does odd jobs for those that need it

[ GENERAL ]

first off, some links. you can find his dossier HERE ( featuring a bio / some stats ) & his pinterest board HERE !!

his name is maximilian anthony thomas ( if he turns out to be the killer i’m gonna laugh because i really did give him 3 first names ) but honestly just max is fine ^^

he’s the child to two ABSOLUTE UNITS of women. both of them are olympic medalists in the athletics category. even his sperm donor dad ( who, yes, also helped raise him ) was a big time baseball player who now coaches one of the best international teams, so to say that he is SPORTS BOY would almost be an understatement.

his sport of choice is easily track, but he also really enjoys baseball, basketball, soccer, and, later on in life, football. if it’s got a ball or allows him to run, chances are he plays it.

he was winning medals as early as 7 years old and had enough for a full wall by the time he was 10. boy is a legacy and it SHOWS.

he doesn’t like it when people try to give him things just because of his name or who his parents are. he would much rather get things through his own hard work. at the same time, he hates losing and is willing to do not so great things in secret if it means he’ll win.

captain of the track & field team during the spring / summer and captain of the football team during fall / winter. he also might be in the student government too so rifp his schedule. boy is ALWAYS busy.

LOVES HIS TEAMMATES SO FUCKING MUCHHHHH !!!!!! they’re his family.

he also does a lot of charity events cuz his parents raised that shit in him ( they literally met at a charity triathalon ), so he goes to quite a view galas and whatnot. LITERALLY HE’S SO BUSY THIS BOY NEVER HAS FREE TIME.

is surprisingly really well versed in art & art history due to one of his moms being a HUGE art history buff. literally his family did an art tour vacation once where they just went across europe & went to a bunch of galleries. basically he may seem like a dumb jock, but if you mix up a renoir & a monet, he WILL call you out on it.

absolute sunshine boy !! loves to smile & laugh & love !! is so passionate about everything !

however, he has some really bad jealousy and pride issues, as hinted at earlier. they’re easily his greatest vices in equal measure.

he’s emotionally fragile so if he snaps, it can get pretty scary, but he’s really good at hiding that side of him. granted, bottling it all up probably isn’t the best either . . .

THAT SAID, HE’S STILL THE TOWN’S GOLDEN BOY !! his coach keeps talking about the 2020 olympics and he’s SO PSYCHED !! everyone in town knows his name bc he really out here being nice to everyone he meets & helping little old ladies cross the road on top of everything else he does. he’s just That Guy.

[ DAISEY ]

he had known her since they were wee babies, and they were definitely friends first. whenever they played house, he was always the dog looooong before he played her husband.

the two were always real & honest with each other, and it’s safe to say that he knew the true her before she got all caught up in her loneliness and secret hoarding.

SHE was the one to ask HIM out not long after starting middle school, making them each other’s first like . . . actual relationship. ( though tbh, she moreso DEMANDED he be her boyfriend, rather than properly asking him aslkfjasdf he could never say no to her though so it didn’t really matter )

they wound up having an off-&-on relationship for SIX YEARS. in late-ish high school, he could feel her drifting away so he told her his secret, thinking it would stop her from being bored of him. unfortunately she ended up breaking up w/ him the next day.

[ STALKING TW ] before long she was already seeing someone new. that triggered his jealous streak, and between that and his fear that she was going to tell someone his secret, he started stalking her. at first it was just lining up their schedules so he could always keep an eye on her, but eventually he got access to her social media logins and started keeping tabs on her private conversations. she’d shown him some of her own hacking tricks when they were still together, so even when she changed her passcodes, it was a simple crack before he was snooping through her shit again.

eventually she confronted him about the fact that she was constantly seeing him everywhere, though still unaware of the fact that he was the one that was hacking into her accounts. he played it off, and while she did tell the authorities about it, that was about the end of it. he stopped stalking her for a couple of years after following her to st ettienne, and things mellowed out between them.

he joined student council that year, and after that him and daisey started to talk a lot more again. they even kinda became friends again. one night, she was having a rough time so she called him. after a quiet night of talking and looking at the stars, she kissed him. it was really great, up until she shoved him away and said it was a mistake, going right back to ignoring his existence the very next day. this caused him to fall back into his stalking habits, finding them a comfort.

this time, she finds out that its HIM going through her social media, and she pulls him aside privately at the homecoming party to yell at him. she even says that she’s going to expose his secret for being such a creep. it’s then that he sees her for what she really is, rather than the rose-colored image he’d been seeing before.

that’s the last he ever sees of daisey rutherford, and he can’t tell if he’s grateful or heartbroken for that.

[ WANTED CONNECTIONS ]

okay listen i’m . . . honestly garbage at coming up with wanted connections because i genuinely want everything. friends, lovers, enemies, family — the whole shebang. i’m always down to brainstorm, so if you’ve got any ideas, even if they’re whacky, hit me with them and we can come up with something phenomenal and unique, yeah ? yeah !

the biggest actual idea i can think of is like . . . half siblings through his biological father. i think the dichotomy of that could be fun since his dad is still VERY MUCH in his life along w/ his 2 moms. TAKEN BY CASSIDY

rivals in sports could be fun ! as w/ rivals in general !

people he tried hooking up w/ to make daisey jealous when they weren’t together ? maybe ??

he doesn’t drink or smoke or do anything fun so like ?? a bad influence type connection mayhaps ?

HE NEEDS A TUTOR !!!! HE NEEEEEDS A TUTORRRRR !!!!!

bro squad bro squad bro squad bro squad bro squad. did i mention bro squad ?? ( ed is his best fucking friend so any mutual friends,,,,,, let’s squad it up )

maybe i’ll edit this later if more come to me, but for now that’s what i’ve got !! hmu if anything strikes your fancy or if you’ve got any other ideas !

#veritasintro #insert a shaky eyes emoji here #EDIT: added some additional stats

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thereislifeafterhq · 5 years

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Flora Devereaux is 44 years young with a birthday on May 23rd. She hails from New Orleans and Shreveport, Louisiana but now lives in Lima, Ohio. She is a Country Singer and Owner of Barkin’ Bones Animal Shelter and looks a bit like Charlize Theron.

Full Name:

Flora Azalea Devereaux

Pronouns:

She/Her

Gender:

Cis-Female

Sexuality:

Pansexual (But currently unaware)

3 Positive Traits:

+ Protective + loving + smart

3 Negative Traits:

- Damaged - untrusting - self-deprecating

Biography:

triggers: Cult Life, Domestic Abuse, Sexual Abuse, mentions of drugs/Alcohol, Adultry, Depression, Anxiety

Flora Azalea Devereaux, was born in New Orleans to Owen and Magnolia Devereaux. The second child of four kids and certainly the one that had the biggest dream. She wanted to be a country star, she wanted to share her gift with the world. It wasn’t her only dream, she also wanted true love. She imagined her prince coming along and they would share love’s first kiss, she wanted love and prayed for it. However, when you grew up in a church like Precious Glory Ministry. Love and dreams weren’t high on the list, not in the eyes of Pastor Gregory Stone. Pastor Stone considered himself God’s prophet and interpreter of god’s will.

The parishioners had roles and those roles were god’s command. Men worked in the fields, built homes, and took wives. The women served the men by cooking, cleaning, and bearing their children. Pastor Stone was allowed to sleep with any wife he wished, no questions asked. The children treated him as a second father and follow his commands without question. As the church grew, Pastor Stone moved them to bigger land in the middle of nowhere- away from prying eyes.

People started to pull away from the ministry, families leaving in the night and others told to leave and never come back. Owen and Magnolia were planning to leave for years, saving money, hoarding provisions, and planning their escape. It was Pastor Stone’s interest in Flora and Rose that finally set things in motion. Flora was fourteen and Pastor Stone turned his attention towards her particularly. Flora felt very uncomfortable with his advances but knew if Pastor Stone wouldn’t take no for an answer. His words, “But God wants me to have you,” were burned in her brain. The night before Pastor Stone took Flora as his new wife, The Devereaux’s fled and left no trace.

Shreveport, Louisiana. A small farm house with just enough lands for a family to build a life. It took some time but The Devereaux found a new church to call home. Flora’s life change drastically, she finally had a chance to follow her dreams. She started to sing in the church choir and one of the church goers happen to be in the country music business. He told her about a band he was putting together and they needed a lead. They were looking for a younger sound and Flora had what they were looking for. When they hit the road, Magnolia tagged along and took Rosie with her. She wanted to spend some time with the band and make sure Flora felt comfortable. A few months in she headed back home and left Flora in the new chaperones hands.

Paul and Avery became her best friends, they were a couple years older and treated her like a kid sister. They were extra protective of her, once they realize just how innocent she truly was. “You never snuck a drink, not even once?” Avery asked in disbelief. Flora explained that she didn’t lie, cheat, steal, or do anything the lord frowned upon. She believed preserving her body with prayer and being optimistic about the people around her, “Oh Paulie we have so much work to do.” Flora stood her ground for some time but decided the lord would forgive her. She prayed about it and decided to try smoking, after her first attempt she couldn’t stop coughing. Drinking did not appeal to her at all but she did enjoy the taste of wine. “I guess that’s a start,” Avery shrugged.

Flora was also a very honest person, so when her Marmee asked how everything was. She ended up telling her everything got an hour long lecture over the phone. That was enough to scare from trying anything else.

After a year, the band finally had a huge break. Their song Baby Girl broke charts and thrust the band into the public eye. Their first huge event was a country music festival in Louisiana, Flora was excited because that meant her family could come and see the band perform. The set was a hit and Flora met many people but only one stuck, a man by the name of Russell Fabray. He was charming, handsome, and older. They spent the whole after party talking before slipping away. Against her better judgment she slept with Russell that night, behind the garden. Russell assured her that everything would be alright. “We’re going to marry and no one has to know.” And she believed him.

During their first tour, Russell would come out to meet her. They would spend every minute together between rehearsals. When Flora found out she was pregnant, she called Russell in a panic. “We need to get married,” He didn’t sound angry or mad and Flora felt relieved. They did it properly and Russell asked her parents permission to marry their daughter.

They bought a house near Flora’s parents, a place where they could start their family. Flora continued to travel with the band, until tragedy struck. Avery had always been one for drugs and alcohol and her lifestyle had spiraled. The more famous the group got, the more she indulged. Flora and Paul did what they could but she wouldn’t accept the help. One night after a show, Avery went out to a party. Paul and Flora passed and opted for sleep, “Sure, thank you for everything.” Those words confused Paul and Flora but they passed them off.

The next morning, Paul and Flora got the news about Avery. After a night of partying she went back to her hotel room and overdosed. Before she took her life, she wrote down everything on her mind- which broke Paul and Flora both. Avery wrote a song for them both and told them to go on and take a piece of her with them. The song was kept secret and Flora kept a copy with her as a reminder.

The death of Avery ended the band, it was just to painful. Paul decided he couldn’t do it without her and Flora agreed. Sugarland was over and Flora returned to Louisiana to take a break and have her family. When the twins were born, Russell was late and Flora finished before he made any appearance. Avery and Daniel Fabray, they were perfect in every way and Flora’s motherly instincts kicked in. She needed to keep them safe from the world.

Eighteen, married and a mother of two. She was overwhelmed and was glad her parents were around to help. Russell was always traveling for work and she was left alone a lot. He would come back to check in, being a strict parent and even more stern husband. He had expectations and she never questioned them, he was the husband and made the rules. He changed after marriage and she found he was quick to temper. He enjoyed his drinking and it made things tense and scary, especially when he started to abuse her. If she didn’t do things to his standards, he’d hit her and call her worthless. She blamed herself for his anger, believing it was his right as a husband to set the rules.

When Russell was away, Flora would do a few local gigs. Singing her own songs and entertaining the crowd. She couldn’t see herself going on tour again, she was a parent now and Russell would never allow it. She needed so much help with the twins and Marmee was a great help during these times. She trusted her mother’s sage advice and told Magnolia everything, “I’m scared, Marmee, nothing I do is right. I try so hard but I can’t do this anymore, I want to leave him.” Magnolia was understanding until the very end, she was quick to jump in.

“Divorce is a sin, Flower. You hang in and god will punish him for his wicked deeds.”

“But Marmee, I-”

“Marriage is hard but divorce is not happening. And, do not tell your paw or brother’s, heaven knows what they’d do to him!” After that, Flora took every punch, squeeze, and harsh word. She stayed silent until his anger turned towards the kids. They were only four years old and Russell went to strike but suddenly the timid housewife turned into a tiger. She pushed him back and grabbed her new weapon. A gun her brother bought her, after learning about Russell and his abuse.

“In the name of the lord I will shoot you dead if you touch them.” He instantly sobered up and called Flora’s bluff, knocking the gun from her hand and going in for the attack. The police showed up but Flora was too scared to admit what happened. She just stayed by Russell and smiled as he explained. “Just a very loud disagreement, Lloyd. Everything is fine, we got a bit carried away.” After that, Russell started to spend more time away from home. His attitude towards the kids changed, especially with Avery. She was his princess and earned her love, she was special to him. Daniel received the most attention but had expectations placed on him, since he was the man of the house.

When she became pregnant with their third child years later, things were good again for a while. She almost forgot about the monster in front of her, he was being so sweet and kind. One night, Flora took him aside when he was sober and had a conversation. “I don’t want this baby to see that side of you, Russ. I want our kids to feel safe, I don’t want them to see you raise another hand.” Russell agreed in his own way, a smile, a kiss, and just walked away. He continued to abuse her but they kept it from the children.

For a few years, Flora continued to sing. Just small little gigs at local venues, the kids would tag along and support her. It was nice for the kids to see that side of her but nothing good lasts. She started to take less and less gigs and eventually went back to being a housewife.

Flora found some confidence over time, able to stand up to Russell more and more. He calmed down a lot over the years and that helped. However, something was eating away at her and she felt that she wasn’t the only, Mrs. Fabray. She did some digging and found he was married to another woman. She was upset and wondered how Russell managed to keep this from her. When she got the nerve to bring it up, Russell admitted he was in fact married to another woman. “How long?” Russell then laid everything out on the table and Flora was broken. A grief she had never felt- everything was a lie. The priest was a fake, the marriage a lie, she had been living in sin for sixteen years. “Why?”

“Because I had to have you, you’re mine.” Those words haunt her until this day.

Now it made perfect sense why Russell never wanted her to mention his name. Why he never wanted to be in the tabloids, or why he allowed her to keep her last name. He never wanted this part of his life to get back to his wife. “Not anymore. Not only did you cheat on me with other women, you cheated on your actual wife with me. You’re an Adulterer and that is a sin in the eyes of the lord, the very lord you use to beat me to the ground. You shame me, our kids, we’re going to be a joke to our entire community! Leave and don’t you ever come back.” Russell was going to argue but when Owen, Jake, and Tucker appeared behind her with shotguns he backed away.

“See you again, I’ll shoot you dead.” Owen cocked his gun and aimed it right at Russell’s head. He knew Owen wouldn’t think twice and made his escape out the door. Everything was kept silent and it was decided that if anyone asked, Russell left and that was that. Flora had the task of telling the kids and it was one of the hardest conversations she had. The twins were about to turn sixteen years old and understood but Juliette had a hard time understanding. She was only nine and her daddy was her everything and now she found out he was a bad man. She promised them everything would be okay and things would stay the same. “This changes nothing because it’s always been us against the world…”

The first step of this new found freedom, introducing the kids to their siblings. Judy was unsure about it but Flora decided it was an important step. The kids thought it was weird that Flora and Judy were friends but they were important to each other. It was weird being friends with your fake husbands ex-wife but It was nice to have someone to share things with. The first meeting with the kids were tense and Juliette seemed the only one interested. The other kids were courteous and made small talk and that was all. Judy and Flora wanted them to get to know each other but at their own pace.

Things were still strained but getting better…

“Solo music?” When the label came to Flora about solo music, she was skeptical about the whole thing. “I don’t know if I can, It wouldn’t feel right to do it without Paulie.”

“You should,” Paul was standing in the corner of the room with a smile, she didn’t even notice him. They had not seen each other since the twins were born. Russell didn’t want him around and now Russell was gone and Paul was here. They shared a long hug and stayed like that for a while. “Avery would want you to sing again, you should.” And with Paul’s blessing and a bunch of nerves she started to work on a new album- which went nowhere. Her fears and insecurities were firmly planted by Russell and she let doubt sink in. She told the label no and went back to her life as a pharmacist.

Over the next few years, Russell continued to show up in her life. Begging to come back home and only once she had a moment of weakness and let him in. Things were good for a short time but then the abuse started up. By this time the kids were off to college and moved away, no where in the house was safe. She kicked him back out but Russell wouldn’t stop trying to win her back. He would leave her flowers, love notes and things escalated quickly. When she refused to return his expressions of love, all four of her tires were slashed. She knew it was him but the police had no evidence, no fingerprints, nothing. Also, the house was in his name and legally she could not keep him from the property. Flora decided it was time to move and get away from him. She took what she needed and packed it away in a car and a moving van. The rest was moved into storage for safe keeping.

Flora didn’t know where to go at first but it made sense, Lima. Her and Judy shared a strong bond and friendship and she needed her friends strength. Flora found a nice home and made it her own but one thing Flora couldn’t escape- crippling depression and Anxiety. Those seemed to follow her wherever she went and it made things hard. The once perfectly pressed and dressed, she started to dress down and ignore her own personal hygiene. Late night trips to the convenience store, it’s sad when the clerks start to know your name.

One night, by pure luck- Flora ran into someone she met online. A girl who she grew close to, Dani. They seemed to help each other and boy something about this girl felt familiar. It only took a few days for Flora to remember the wild child, Avery. They were similar in many ways and now Flora knew the pain, the hurt, the betrayal. She could help Dani and be there to help when she needed it. Before they knew it, Flora became a mother figure and a friend. Both were there for each other and Dani helped her through her own hard times. She even convinced Flora to get a tattoo.

Over the next few months, Flora decided to be more open with her past. Giving her instagram followers a glimpse into her old life, speaking her truth. Which caused a rift with some family but that was their problem, not hers.

Things were good for a bit but got worse when Russell showed up. He found her and started harassing her again, which escalated into sexual assault. Causing Flora to live in fear, even after Russell was found and arrested he was set free. No physical evidence but the second time she fought back, clawing his face. He was on the run and the worry only built up and last year during the holidays- Flora had a nervous breakdown. It was so bad she could not function on her own but her family helped and she found herself again.

Flora was back in Lima before she knew it, stronger and ready to live her life. Russell was caught shortly after New Years, receiving a five year sentence for his crimes. It gave Flora peace of mind and she could finally focus on her life and her new Music career…

Paul had come to her around April and asked if she wanted to go back on tour. Flora wasn’t sure about being in the spotlight but Paul said it was time. “We put this off long enough, Avery would want us to do this.” Flora thought about it decided it was time to get back into something she truly loved.

The last few months she has been planning Sugarland’s return with Paul and working on her self worth.

#flora d #female #bio

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silver-spider-art · 3 years

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youtube

This is a wonderful breakdown of both the special and of the liberal white existential dread that I know I've been feeling lately.

My understanding of white american exceptionalism broke apart once i hit college and has been a slide into being radicalized and seeing how the world really is over the last two decades. It's the dawning horror of it all, realizing it just keeps getting worse, that there is always something else that you were raised on that's a lie. And the feeling of betrayal. For me it was feeling lied to by my parents and teachers, they painted a world where hard work was all that mattered and then I got out into that world and hard work meant jack shit. Seeing a world were one person works their ass off and just slides backwards, never rising above their current level of worst falling deeper into poverty all while another person just fails upwards without effort. Realizing that race and wealth and health and disability and sexuality and gender matter so much more than hard work. That "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" was always meant to sound as ridiculously impossible as it does.

It's a thing of pure dread knowing how little an individual can effect change because that whole individual power part we were sold was also a lie. And just the exhaustion I feel at every proposed performative act of protest or ally-ship were the thing they are doing is ultimately meaningless and meant to signal that they care but doesn't do anything to change because it emphasizes individual action over collective action or it's unsustained collective action (example: short term boycotts) and I just... sigh.

The worst dread is always in knowing that I still haven't finished the work dismantling the framework I was raised under, that there are things I likely still have as assumptions about that are harmful to others, and the dread of what is left of my "culture" when it's over? Because white isn't really a culture. It's tried to be a few times but it's more a lack of one. It was a stripping of culture to create an us vs them narrative to support white supremacy that left something hollowed out behind. For me it's the constant question of "who am I? What am I?" Because my family never passed down culture. The only culture I was given was hating minorities, depression era recipes, and the sort of hoarding poor people do when they have property (throw nothing away if you could use it later). But that's not a culture. I know I have Irish and Scottish and English and Native American in me at the minimum but the family tree dead ends in those places. No one recorded my indigenous great great grandmother's tribe, no one recorded her Irish immigrant husband's linage or passed along his culture, it was just a single fact my paternal grandmother knew about her family tree. My maternal grandfather wore a kilt and played the bagpipes but my mother never shared that culture with me. I had to learn about his copper red hair and youthful kilt wearing from old pictures. It's a deep feeling of loss, things I could've had but was denied because of white supremacists.

I feel like it's that toxic combo of arrogance, entitlement, and that envious loss of identity that drives so many white people to steal other peoples culture. I know I've looked at other cultures with envy in my heart. In the video he mentions how current white music is mostly watered down black music and yeah, I feel that too. When I was young and dumb there was this feeling of "america is a melting pot so everything is a grab bag" and that of course it was okay to pull "inspiration" from other cultures, and then you start waking up and it's, fuck that was wrong. But where do you go from there? What happens after you realize you have no culture and your ancestors were stripped of it so long ago that you can't even figure out were to look? It's a horrible sort of grief. A grief and loss that gets tied up in "if I'm only 1/8 or less anything am I allowed to claim this culture or is that appropriation?" I have native american on both sides, I'll never even know their real names, no one bothered to record their history. I'm a descendant of immigrants but their culture was washed away by force or to assimilate to avoid racism. The only part of my history I was actually passed down was poor and "white".

It's a hard thing to process, this sort of grief. Of known how to express it without hurting others in the process. Of knowing who to look towards for how to having these feelings safely. The last thing I want is to hurt BIPOCs with my deconstruction of the white privilege I was raised under. It's damn messy and filled with dread. Anyway, I hope this isn't just a lot of white tears. It's is because this shit fucking hurts, but I hope it isn't White Tears™.

TL;DR: dismantling the world view you were raised on is messy and causes lots of emotions and white isn't a salvageable culture

#spider rambles #long post #racism #white privilege #white liberals #Youtube

0 notes

cwnerd12 · 3 years

Text

In the press briefing room of the Rabbath Palace, Andrew stands at the podium, addressing a crowd of reporters, “Before I start today’s briefing, I would like to thank King Wayne for appointing me as his new press secretary. It’s an honor to be serving such a fine king, and I look forward to serving him well. any questions.” The reporters all try to grab his attention. Andrew points to one, “Yes?” Reporter, “Has King Wayne responded to the declaration signed by his generals, condemning his marriage to Queen Mercy?” Andrew, “He is responding in private, but publicly he continues to assert that his marriage is perfectly Biblical to those who know the Bible.” Another reporter, “Is there any indication that Ammon will be joining King David's North American Union?" Andrew, “Why would we do that? Seriously, like, why? That's dumb." Another reporter, “Your wife has said she will not be joining you in Ammon because, quote, ‘There's no way I'm raising two little girls in that misogynist shithole.’ Do you have any comments?" Andrew, disparagingly, “My wife is a feminist,” his tone changes back to cheerful, "That's all for now! Thank you!”

In Wayne’s council chamber, his cabinet, all older men who were appointed by Warner, stands up as Wayne enters. Wayne gives them all a quick glance over, and without even sitting down, he says, “You’re all fucking fired.” The councillors all look at each other awkwardly as Wayne sit down. Wayne, “You all signed a declaration condemning my marriage, and I’m not going to tolerate it!” One councillor speaks up, “The king of a Christian nation cannot be a polygamist-” Wayne, “I’m not having this argument again! Unless there’s a new chapter of the Bible explicitly forbidding multiple wives, everything I’m doing is perfectly biblical!” One councilor tries to say something, but Wayne cuts him off, “And don’t bring up the New Covenant, I’ve already heard it! You’re all old men who served my father, and I need young men who are willing to serve me!” Gen. Dale McClintock, Commander General of the Ammonian army, speaks up, “Wayne, firing all of use would be reckless in a way that I know Warner never raised you to be. You have every right to be angry, but don’t go putting the country in at risk because of it.” Wayne rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment, "I still want to replace most of you. If you want to keep your job, you need to prove that you can be more useful to me than someone who's younger and more in-step with my ideals. McClintock, “Can I speak with you alone?”

Wayne and McClintock walk down a palace corridor. McClintock, “I know you admired me when you were a boy. I hope that you still look up to me.” Wayne, somewhat sheepishly, “I do.” McClintock, “I know that deep down you must understand why so many of us are unhappy with your decision.” Wayne, “It’s perfectly biblical!” McClintock, “Yes, I know! The kings of the Bible all had many wives, but it always sowed discord and distress in their families. Life during the times of the Old Testament was short and brutal. Men were called up to serve in the army, and so many of them were killed, it created a gender imbalance, and polygamy was a necessity to care for the extra women. By the time of Christ, society had settled and civilized, and the standard of monogamy was set. The nuclear family with one husband and one wife has lasted through the ages because it is the most stable and harmonious family unit.” Wayne, “I love Hattie and Mercy, and now that I’m married, I’m not going to divorce either of them!” McClintock, “I know that. But what about the rest of us? Is polygamy going to be the standard in Ammon now?” Wayne, “David got to re-define marriage!” McClintock, “But you’re not David!” Wayne, “A husband must provide for his wife. As long as a husband can provide, he should be able to have as many wives as he wants.” McClintock, “So wealthy men start hoarding women, they could have dozens of wives. That creates an imbalance and young men who would otherwise make excellent fathers and husbands are forced to go without. Women get bought like trophies. It de-stabilizes society.” Wayne makes a face and then mutters, “Well, if only the king does it, it can’t be that bad. Besides, I don’t want to marry anyone else. I’m satisfied with my two wives.” McClintock, “Will you still be saying that ten years from now?” Wayne, “I’m not a pervert!”

In a beautiful sun-filled garden, Mercy lays reading in a hammock. She wears a sun dress with spaghetti straps. Hattie, in her typical modest Chanel, bursts out of the door, “You don’t have to go showing it off!” Mercy lowers her book, “Pardon?” Hattie fumes at her, “We all know why Wayne married you, you don't have to dress like that!” Mercy sits up, “Wayne got me this dress.” Hattie, “Look, I know that I’m just going to have to put up with you now, but you have to understand, I’m still the one he married first! My son is his heir! I’m the queen of Ammon that everyone loves!” Mercy, “I’m not trying to compete with you. I only married Wayne so he wouldn’t go to war with Gilboa.” Hattie, sarcastically, “Oh, you’re so noble!”

Back inside, McClintock and Wayne continue to talk as they go down the corridor. McClintock, “I know you’re eager to prove yourself, but that takes time…” Wayne sees Mercy and Hattie talking through a door, and stops walking. McClintock stops, “What?” Wayne opens the door and heads out.

Outside, Wayne says, “What is going on here?” Hattie, “I was just having a little talk with Mercy here. That dress is too immodest.” Wayne, “I picked it out for her. As long as she wears it here where no one else can see her, it's fine.” Hattie sneers. Wayne puts his arm around her and kisses her on the cheek, “You know, you and Mercy are sisters now, and I love the both of you dearly. I want you two to love each other like sisters, because my job is already hard enough without having to settle a catfight every day. Right now, I have to go face a room full of old men who are just furious at me for doing what is well within my right as king and perfectly acceptable in the Bible. I don’t want my beautiful wives being angry, too. Now, I have a meeting to go to. You two be good to each other.” Hattie lowers her gaze humbly, "I will." Mercy rolls her eyes and keeps reading. Back in the hallway, McClintock watches it all with disapproval.

At the Rabbath Palace, Mercy greets Elías with a big hug, “Thank you so much for coming!” Elías, "Just wanted to make sure you're okay.” Behind them, Wayne eyes Elías with distrust, “She's a queen, of course she's doing well." Mercy steps away from Elías and over to Wayne. She murmurs into his ear, "Be nice. He's just my brother." She goes back over to Elías and takes him by the arm, "Come on, I'll show you around.” She leads him away, with Wayne looking on. Once they’re in an isolated place, Elías stops walking at turns to Mercy, “Okay, seriously, how are you doing?” Mercy, “I’m fine, actually. I mean, Hattie definitely hates me, but I was expecting that.” Elías, “You aren’t having a hard time with…” his eyes travel to her shoulder. Mercy, “Oh, no. I guess I haven’t been here long enough to really get triggered or something, but I'm still talking to my therapist, and besides, Wayne makes it kinda hard to hide anything.” Elías, “What, do you mean he like, checks?” Mercy, “No, no, it's... it's husband and wife stuff that I’m sure you don’t want to hear about.” Elías, “If he's making you do anything you don't want to do, I do want to hear about it.” Mercy, "Don't worry about it, really. He's listened every time I’ve said no, and he hasn't asked me to do anything weird or gross, so…” she shrugs, “Me being happy is a big part of his whole romance fantasy. I know it's not healthy thinking and I shouldn’t keep saying it, but things really could be a lot worse.” Elías, “Is there anything you want? I can ask him." Mercy, “No, don’t. I know you want to help, but… this whole balancing act rests on his idea of what this relationship is like. He wants me to be his happy, spoiled little pet, so, I act like one, and he gives me whatever I want.”

Elías has dinner with the Judds. Mae, “Obviously, what happened with Esperanza and Vesper was extremely hard on both Warner and me, but the worst was we didn't know what happened to you kids. We figured you had to be at least alive, but beyond that... Silas wouldn't tell us anything. It was torture for us, and he knew it, I'm sure. Otherwise we would have taken you all in and raised you as our own.” Elías, “Things definitely would have turned out differently if that happened.” He glances over at Wayne, who glares back at him. Elías goes on, “I was pretty lucky, though. My adoptive parents were always very kind and supportive.” Wayne, “They knew who they were adopting? Abbadon’s heir?” Elías, awkwardly, “Well, I made it pretty clear, I didn't want to be anything like my dad.” Wayne, “But you’re a teacher now, like Vesper, aren’t you?” Elías, “I’m a middle school English teacher. Pretty different from Biblical linguistics.” Wayne, “Can't imagine your students were thrilled to find out." Mercy reaches over and puts her hand on his arm, “Wayne, be nice." Elías, “Everyone took it pretty well, actually. My students were more curious than anything. They’re young enough they don't remember Dad. Growing up, going through everything, books were always my source of comfort, a way to escape. I became a teacher because I wanted to give that to other kids.” Mae, “Esperanza would be so proud. She’d be so proud of all of you.”

Mercy and Wayne get ready for bed in their bedroom. Sitting at her vanity, Mercy brushes her hair and texts on her phone, “I wish you would try to be friends with Elías. You were such good friends growing up.” Wayne, “I was a child then. A lot has changed.” Mercy turns to look at him, “I want the men in my life to get along.” Wayne, “He’s the Abbadon heir.” Mercy, “He's an English teacher.” Wayne, “So was your father. As king, I have to be wary of all my potential rivals.” Mercy, patiently, “Elías doesn’t want anything to do with politics. Even if he was, any possible supporters would be scared off by the name Abbadon. Even with all the charity work I accomplished in Gilboa, nobody wants to talk to me here." Wayne, "I heard he's been working with David." Mercy shakes her head, "Not recently. He's met with David a few times, but that was with me and the rest of our family to figure out how were were going to handle us all being publicly identified. David's always been very kind to us. Gabriel mentioned that he likes marine biology, so David let us spend a weekend at his private beach house. We spent our time foraging for clams and looking in tide pools. It was some of the best time we've been able to have together." Wayne, "I can buy Gabriel a beach house." Mercy sighs, “I know you can.” She turns back to her phone and texts something. Wayne, “Who are you texting?” Mercy, “My siblings! Who else would I be texting?” Wayne, “If Elías is smart, he won’t get in between me and you. I don’t like other men spending too much time with you.” Mercy, “Wayne, he’s my brother!” Wayne, “I know he’s reporting everything I say back to David.” Mercy goes over to Wayne. She puts her hands on his shoulder and touches his face, “Can you at least try to like him? For me?” Wayne, “He doesn’t appreciate what I went through to make you my wife.” Mercy, “I told him about the war. He knows.” Wayne, “The war was nothing. I had to be king before I could even think of war.” Mercy, jokingly, “What, Warner wasn’t dying fast enough so you had to speed him along?” Wayne doesn’t say anything. Mercy grows serious. Fright shines in her eyes. Wayne, “When I want something, I do what I have to to get it.” Mercy, “Did… did you really kill Warner?” Wayne, “I’m not going to say any more. When I'm faced with problems, I deal with them. It's very much in Elías’s best interest that he doesn’t become a problem for me." Mercy nods and pulls her hands away, showing fear, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him at arm’s length. No matter what, you’re the most important man in my life.” She steps away and goes back to her vanity. Wayne gets into bed, “Come get into bed with me.” Mercy texts something on her phone, “Just a moment. Let me say good night to everyone.” She sends the final text and puts the phone down. She gets into bed. Wayne, “I have to protect my crown and my queen. Deceit is everywhere. I have to always be on guard.”

Elías sits in his guest bedroom, looking at his phone. He presses a button, and a sound recording plays, “My father stood in my way, so I moved him.” Elías presses stop, relieved and joyful to have gotten it.

0 notes

stillrecruitingrp · 6 years

Photo

The D.A. has recruited Elva to the character of Draco Malfoy with a faceclaim of Austin Butler. Isn’t this what you always wanted, Draco? Last year was remarkable; this year can only be better, right?

OOC Details

Name: Elva

Pronouns: She/her or they/them

Activity Level: I will check in and try to reply daily, though there might be the odd day where I can’t be online. I’m usually more productive in the morning GMT, so there’s a chance I won’t be around for events, but I will make sure to catch up asap.

Acknowledgement: I acknowledge that the themes of this game may include triggering elements. I also acknowledge that my character may be harmed or even killed during paras/events or may cause harm to or kill others during paras/events through the violence roulette.

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General IC Details

Name: Draco Lucius Malfoy

Age: 17

Ships: Draco could do with being swept off his feet, though he doesn’t see that happening anytime in the near or distant future, assuming he has one.

Gender/Pronouns: He/him

Face Claim: Austin Butler, Henrik Holm, Lucky Blue Smith, probably in that order.

Desired Changes: N/A

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BIO Questions

This game is Canon Divergent after the beginning of Deathly Hallows. This means, if a character is not at Hogwarts in canon, that can be altered (maybe Fleur goes to collect her husband’s little sister and ends up unable to leave the rest of the children there? Perhaps Harry comes back earlier…but why, and how? All of these things can be addressed and should be in your application!) Feel free to be creative!

Biography:

Born on the 5th of June, 1980, Draco Malfoy was a child taught to use his voice often and loudly. As a consequence, his nannies and house-elves alike despised him; fits of tears were interrupted with the clatter of china followed by bouts of uncontrollable laughter. But they never dared raise their voice or tell him no. No one working as a nanny had the authority to tell the son of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy anything as absurd as no.

That is not to say Draco enjoyed his early childhood unchecked. He was more than a mere child—he was an heir, and was expected to behave like one. He was spoiled of course, never wanting for anything for very long, given the freedom and the funds to pursue whatever hobby he desired (though Quidditch was preferred, one could even say enforced, by his father). But he was schooled in how to be polite, and diplomatic; how to use cunning to successfully pursue his own ambitions; quizzed in the names and reputations of pureblood peers. It was all dreadfully boring, but it taught him one important lesson—no one measured up to a Malfoy.

Lucius talked about the past the way Draco talked about the stories his mother read him at bedtime–they would terrify the average person, but no child of a Malfoy or Black was average. Draco hung on every word from his mother’s lips, and came to aspire to greatness through cunning, to heroics through deception and resourcefulness. He played at outwitting a pack of werewolves to rescue the beautiful prince, or saving the whole of magical Britain from some muggle king who raised up his sword against them. Draco longed for the dramatics, for the worlds so much grander and more exhilarating than his own. Lucius longed for the glory and the sense of purpose that came with being the Dark Lord’s servant, but Lucius’ accounts of the past were as much fiction as the stories in young Draco’s books. It had been a time fraught with terror no matter whose side one fought on, and it had left Lucius a broken man. Of course, Draco didn’t know that. All he heard was that things had been better, and would be again, if the Dark Lord hadn’t been defeated. Lucius never expected the Dark Lord would return, and if he had, he never would have filled Draco’s head with lofty tales of the past.

If there was ever a way to change a young mind shaped by their parents’ beliefs, it is to remove them from their family’s influence. At Hogwarts, even among fellow Slytherins, Draco was challenged by others and their differing views. But instead of learning, Draco took the offensive. He has always been family-minded—most purebloods are, after all. Add the fact he’s an only child and that he idolised his father, he will always protect his family first and foremost, even when he knows them to be in the wrong. Loyalty may be a Hufflepuff trait but Draco has it in spades.

At first, Draco adamantly believed himself to be superior—his blood made him so, while his wealth and influence were further proof. The Malfoys were a responsible family, who no more sullied their blood than squandered their wealth; everything they had, they’d earned. Over time, that sense of superiority was hardened by jealousy. Draco was jealous of Harry Potter in particular—faster flyer, an infuriating knack for evading trouble, not to mention his celebrity. Draco couldn’t stand it; couldn’t stand him.

Hate corrupts. When Harry went against his father in the Department of Mysteries, his father wasn’t merely incarcerated. The Malfoys fell from favour, Draco was branded with the Dark Mark, and assigned his mission. Draco’s sixth year is a blur, and he doesn’t care to remember it, thank you very much. During the stress of trying to carry out his mission and free his father, he turned that hatred on himself. A sense of inferiority took root inside him, like a Dungbomb waiting to go off and reveal his life as the pile of stinking crap that it was, and oh the timing made Draco laugh. Voldemort was back in full force, Dumbledore was soon to be dead by his hand; Draco was sucked into a war which, had anyone asked if he’d wanted to be part of, he would have answered with a resounding NO.

Perhaps it’s wrong for draco to blame his parents for the person he became and the situation that befell him. He’s seventeen years old, fully capable of thinking for himself—has been for a long time. But even Draco can’t deny their influence on him. As independent as he’d like to be, he has been naive, and so have his mother and father. The mere thought of He Who Must Not Be Named makes Draco retch. Now the Dark Lord has taken over the family estate, sleeps under their roof, assuming he sleeps at all.They have been naive indeed and Draco intends never to blind himself to the truth again, no matter how loathsome it might be.

And what is the truth? He doesn’t want the Dark Lord to win this war. Draco Malfoy is rooting for the enemy. He has never known anyone as obnoxious as Harry Potter, except perhaps Hermione Granger. The pair have been the bane of Draco’s existence since they stepped their unworthy feet on the grounds. They are menaces, the both of them, while the Weasel is barely worth mentioning, and yet they might actually have what it takes to save them all. Of course they won’t be doing that so long as they’re cowering in the wild, scrabbling about like scared animals.

School Year So Far:

Draco returned to Hogwarts in September and resumed his studies as normal.

As if he didn’t watch Headmaster Albus Dumbledore die.

As if old Dumbledore wasn’t the first of many.

It wasn’t like Draco had any choice. His father was in prison. It didn’t take the full-body bind curse to get Draco to take the Dark Mark. He would not endure that indignity, so he offered his arm freely (eventhough there was nothing free about it.) And he did what he was asked—gave the Dark Lord’s servants entrance into Hogwarts, raised his wand against Albus Dumbledore. So what if he couldn’t kill him? What difference did it make now? Dumbledore was dead anyway. The Malfoy name had been spat on repeatedly, he and his parents disgraced. Nothing mattered anymore.

There are worse positions to be in. The Malfoy name can’t sink any lower. Except it can, and Draco is reminded often; Voldemort could put them in the ground, and likely will, so Draco might as well give him a good reason. When he left Hogwarts prematurely in June, it felt strange to leave his friends behind. In fact, he hated it, being dragged along with the Dark Lord’s merry band of madmen and murderers. The more he learns about war, the more he despises it. Is it too much to ask that the world go back to the way it was, so he can enjoy a quiet afternoon on the banks of the Black Lake?

First there is work to be done, but it feels gargantuan. Draco does what he can, when he can, but it’s never enough and people keep ending up hurt. He doesn’t know how long he can keep at it—these small acts of resistance are chipping away at him, and one way or another he’s going to get himself killed, either by Carrows’ hands or through sheer exhaustion. Draco swears, if he sees Potter in this school again, he’s going to throw him at the Dark Lord’s feet so Potter can destroy him once and for all.

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OOC Questions

Writing Sample

What were house-elves for if not doing the dirty work so wizards didn’t have to; so purebloods could put their time to better use? Dumbledore kept a whole hoard of house-elves during his employment. They were paid to clean this castle. So why, in Salazar’s good name, was he, Draco Malfoy, mopping the floor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom?

He wasn’t even allowed magic. Amycus Carrow had confiscated his wand for good measure with the promise to return it when the job was done, if and only if it was done to his standards. The Carrow wizard was enjoying himself, that much was clear–getting a little too comfortable lording over Draco like he was the one with no money, no education, who could sooner conjure a fart than cast a simple wand-lighting charm.

Draco tightened his hands around the mop. He had half a mind to snap it in two, but the thought that the favour could be returned on his wand gave him pause. Draco couldn’t face that humiliation, not like his father. The things he had done not to end up like his father… It was simple logic; if he made himself useful, it would be foolish for the Dark Lord to disarm him. So he had requested the opportunity to prove himself—to practice, which was just another way to say torture and maim. To kill.

He thrust the mop with more vigour. Swirls of water stained crimson formed a pattern on the sandstone, staining where it dried. He could feel it on his hands—he’d felt it since that night atop the Astronomy Tower, blood caked in more blood. But when he went to the bathroom to scrub it off, there wasn’t a drop to be found. He had imagined it—was imagining it now.

A door creaked. Draco’s back stiffened. Panic seeped into his muscles, but he forced himself to turn toward the sound. Merlin, this had to be a joke.

“You call that clean, Malfoy?” Professor Carrow held the door open as a group of students filed into the room, emanating anger and fear in equal measure. One of them looked from the mop to the discoloured floor and broke into a sob.

Draco didn’t think he could hate anyone more than Potter, then along came the Carrows to prove him wrong. He looked at the crying student. The smirk that had once sat so naturally on his lips now felt barbed, impossible to hold. “Quit your whimpering, it was just a nosebleed.” Gullibility was the number one trait in Hufflepuffs, was it not? Let the little badger believe the lie.

“Am I done then?” He turned to Carrow, holding the broom away from him so his sleeve slid up his arm, exposing his Dark Mark. Hatred emanated off Carrow’s gabble of children, swarming around Draco like flies—if only he could swat it away just as easily.

“Don’t you want to stick around for the fun?”

“I’d rather eat. All this work has built up my appetite.” Draco leaned the mop against the wall. The rags at the end of it had turned rusty red. Food was the last thing Draco had on his mind. He approached Carrow, ignoring the audience of scowling faces, and held out his hand. “Make sure you don’t starve them, Professor. Or you’ll have no one left to play with.”

“I’m sure I’d find someone to take their place,” Carrow sneered.

Well he’d walked right into that one. “Wand, please.” Let it not be said that Mother hadn’t taught him his manners. Amycus looked confused, then made a show of remembering, pulling the wand from his pocket.

Oh it felt good to have it back in his hand, especially as it masked the shaking. Draco couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He would skip dinner in the Great Hall; charged down the spiralling staircase, toward the dungeons, as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Upon reaching the entrance to the Common Room, he was too out of breath to utter the password. Pressing his hand to the wall, he closed his eyes, sweat prickling his brow. He wanted out of these clothes, to shower for a full day—out of this castle.

“Draco?”

At the sound of the familiar voice, relief flooded over him. He could breathe, just. He shoved his sleeves down, buttoning the cuffs; checked his hands.

No blood. At least, none that the eye could see.

Exploration

Arrogance and a sense of superiority does not equal self-love. Draco doesn’t come across as someone who doubts himself, but he does, constantly. He doesn’t think very highly of himself either, after his atrocious sixth year at Hogwarts and everything that’s happened sense. I would like to explore Draco learning to love himself.

The Mom Friend, as suggested by the mods. Those close to him know his motives often extend outwards—that he looks out for him than just himself, that he cares what happens to this school. Draco might be a wealthy wizard, but he is not drowning in friends. He brought this war to Hogwarts, now he will ensure his friends make it out alive (assuming he can). As for the rest of Hogwarts… they can hardly fend for themselves. I would love to explore Draco’s caring nature.

The problem with putting others first is that you teach them you come second. Draco has a sharp tongue. In between his “mom” moments, he can be downright cruel. And that’s to those he likes. Add the fact that he doesn’t betray his emotions, or speak of his thoughts and fears, it’s rare that Draco is the one being cared for. With his parents helpless against the Dark Lord, Draco feels alone now more than ever. Where’s his pat on the head, thank you very much??

Draco the torturer. He sees himself as a killer, and he isn’t dealing with it, at all. He hasn’t cast the killing curse, yet, but he has made people suffer and not all those people still breathe. How he’ll deal with it, I’m not sure yet, but I suspect it will be explosive because this is Draco we’re talking about (my Draco is a little on the dramatic side).

#draco malfoy #recruitaccept #hprpg

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theindependentjournals · 4 years

Text

BUNNY & DUCKY

BUNNY

SUN- PISCES 20

A perfect black cube sits lone in the desert.

Isolation. Uniqueness that becomes separative and self-referential. Exquisitely designed to be only a certain way and not any other way. Preserved against rust or corrosion. Maintaining standards, priorities, what seems to be the given. Yet something is wrong. It is true that all lies within and that turning yourself into what you are not is ultimately absurd. But you are not listening, not paying attention to the subtle clues. You are so intent upon self-consistency that you have tuned out far too much in the process. And this shall call forth lessons and hard experiences to crack you open again, and to give you a chance to discover afresh what can be when nothing is assumed and nobody has set anything up ahead of time.

MOON - LEO 1

A divorced husband and wife enjoying each other’s company.

The little ego desires what it does not desire, needs what it does not need. It goes after most avidly what it later finds is so very different from what would be good to have. But then things turn again and even the most unconscious patterns reveal their redemptive glory. It all depends on where you are along the spectrum: the initial expansion, the inevitable contraction to follow, or the tempered and seasoned expansion later. In the middle point, it can be hell. But things start out so amazingly and they end up as such a gold mine of experience and self-understanding from all this. Much of life is midstream and involves meeting shadows, enduring reversals, and basically being forced to go absolutely everywhere you never wanted to go. The reason it comes out right in the end is that you move through all of it and discover there is somebody in here who knows how to do that and who remains unscarred, not even discouraged, and is just waiting for the next opening to take up the Earth’s schooling in the way that fiery souls invite and welcome, strangely enough.

AQUARIUS 23

Ancient runes carved at random on gray rocks.

Learning ultimate things the hard way. You have to put yourself totally into every realm to experience it for yourself, with a zeal for empirical wisdom or the wild edge of the scientific method. The experimental test case is yourself. And you are out there all alone in vast, uncharted territory, just the way you like it. You’ve been granted the chance to prove things, to follow them out quite far, bearing a determined intelligence with karmically-trained faculties of subtle perception. However, objectively speaking, this is an intensively arduous and relentless way to do it, without safeguards or precedents, relying upon the moment’s edge. If you can be tirelessly strong, doing it this ruggedly will prove to be the only way to go if you wish to uncover future territory without imprinting bias or distortion upon it. You just have to invent the wheel in yet another dimension.

ARIES 17

A bodiless head asleep on the beach.

Cast into exile, sworn to silence. Held to an ancient code to be a watcher, a perfect witness to the inward reverberations of all things. Outward events and experiences are gone, mean nothing here. All that counts is to sense into things, to remember the essence and to know the forgotten worlds. It is a lonely vigil, a strange destiny, with a piquant flavor of sorrow mixed with exultation. What others are happy with is far out of reach, unimaginable. Yet what so many others miss and are put off from is here vividly, vibrantly indwelled every moment, which sweetens the bitter cup and allows the greater task to be taken up with a surrendered will and a quiet, inward repose.

AQUARIUS 24

A large brown bear picking and eating apples.

Gross indulgence and a conscience that just won’t quit. Saturating your energy field with exaggerated gestures of capitulation to your own lower nature. But you do this in continual ironic juxtaposition to an observing intelligence and a keen conscience which deplore and have no use for your own shenanigans. Being split between the compulsive and addictive personality and the dispassionate and icily-removed consciousness. You’re trying to turn yourself around by alternately bingeing and reforming. But each binge triggers a reaction of the other side of mind, and each renunciation and reformation in turns triggers a further reaction. This dialectic between being bad and being good is all on the pro and con level of the dualistic mind. The only hope in this pattern lies in wearing out both ends, so that a third place can open in which neither acting out nor becoming exemplary is all that necessary. You do what you do and you see it the way you see it and all the self-conscious overlays and each and every self-manipulation in whatever direction dissolve when the space is clear.

LEO 28

Men doing gymnastics.

Physical, material existence in a sturdy body in time and space is the greatest agony and the greatest ecstasy that could ever be. It is agony in that you are so weighed down by the gravity of things, sorely troubled, heavily impacted, just about immobilized. It is ecstasy in that you can do so much with it, and when you mobilize yourself to take hold of the body and wield it as an instrument and a vessel, the physical turns into a masterpiece, a wonder, a delight unsurpassed. You experience the heights and depths of ambivalence toward incarnation and embodiment, feeling both repelled and attracted by the core drama of life in this Earth. When you feel good, everything glows with promise. When your life-force ebbs and becomes stagnant, the world is saturated with abysmal dread. Learn to harness embodied selfhood into something more constant and satisfying, even with repeated bouts of coming up against resistance, and habit dying hard. Rigidity versus fluency. You have a creative dilemma with so much growth, outlasting your own inner enemies and becoming Earth-worthy in the physical—triumphantly and with lasting imprint.

ARIES 12

An old woman hears the stars talking to her at night.

Soul gifts from the morning of the world now turning into treasures untold. A quality of being, a presence, an aura which fills the world. You are the microcosm here and now for so many worlds. There is wonder and awe, discovery and an odd echo of fate. All of this has happened before; nothing is new. A twilight state. The repeated awakenings, and yet still dreaming on. Majestic vistas. So much to conceive. All exists inside. Yet in the secrecy of the heart, no clues are offered. All remains bare and stark.

VIRGO 27

The magician disrobes. He has no sex organs.

We bear a dream within us. In that dream, we can magically disperse every partisan consideration and make the truth a commonsensically shareable thing. We endow that dream with more of ourselves than any outwardly existing realities. Slowly we foster its seeds. There just must be a way to find the common point, to no longer be jerked around by gender politics and all the other antibrotherhood, antisisterhood currents. So we endow the dream with our heart’s aspirations, and when we give our all to it, the dream comes true. But until that point, we are worlds apart from others in harboring the dream of our coming reunion with everybody.

SCORPIO 26

A she-wolf. Her udders full of milk.

Bearing within you something vast and wild and true. Your instincts given over to this seed. What can be must be impels sacrifice and renunciation. Being held in the grip of vast, primordial forces. Taken over by depths that forge new worlds into being. Stunned into submission. Unconsciously obsessed with something that lives within you and cannot be forgotten. Supercharged with energy. In tune with the Earth’s cycles. Everything happening in a magnified and hypnotic atmosphere. The hidden worlds take charge. Individuality is eclipsed, and the surge of power dominates consciousness and life by its intensity and ruthless current right through the body, and there is nothing to say about it.

VIRGO 21

Dark river and distant bell.

So much to be done. So many fragments to move with. Such a confounding. The one inside is calm and quiet, poised and accepting, knows what shall be. The one outside is frantic with events and experiences which do not add up. Severe conditions to test the soul and give the mind quite a scare. The process is to keep going into it a little further, despite yourself, and to keep losing who you thought you were in the bargain. But there is somebody to be when there is nobody left to be, and only then.

PISCES 28

A hoard of monkeys chattering.

Possession by local spirits in mischievous, playful fashion. Cast into an abyss. Dumped out of status and specialness and made to be hyper-receptive to whatever is moving here—an abandoned center, karmically sacrificed to learn both humility and the lessons of the street. The state of mind random, chaotic, inspirational, capricious, given to every kind of spirit passing through. Sorely troubled, yet fantastically out of touch. A regressive loop with powerful emanations. The feeling is that something must be done and that this will require a change of heart. But you gotta go deep, and it takes a whole lot of desperation to turn this one around.

ARIES 20

An empty courtyard.

Nothing is left. Reality is scattered. Self-obliterated. The familiar rendered irrelevant. Apocalyptic changes, personal and collective, take over. No being, only action. You become a projectile of intent, literally identify with what you can do now. A barren wasteland of an inner world. A thrust outside. Stark and surreal. You feel compelled to dare, pushed over the edge, no going back—destiny as frenzy. And in this wild, volatile mix, creative forces are released that would never come out any other way. Yielding to the role of the purging and cleansing agent of changes, you are unable to wriggle out of anything ever again.

DUCKY

LEO 29

A broken sword.

Consecration to a higher power. The giving-over of the personal will--the marvel of root change. Coming to the end of your own path, and it is just the beginning of the greater way. The heart must open. The infinite must be born inside. The destiny-necessity is there--so much karmic backlog. So many ways to be right and to be wrong. The realization in the very midst that there is nobody listening to the old tale and everybody is awaiting somebody else to come through. A profound and utter doorway into a great unknown. What has been is finished. What shall be is so very different. And what is now is a question and a prayer and a destiny that must find its redemption.

PISCES 10

An old witch on a windy promontory. She is calling to the sea.

Wildly tuned in. Staggeringly aware of the overall situation and its call, you respond deeply and with earnest, plaintive engagement with all that is happening. You are profoundly emotional, physical, and personal in order to ground and focus a vaster attunement, urgently and critically mobilized at hot spots. Assigned to tune in to everything and make sure all the cosmic bases are covered--inner-planes activity predominates. You live within vast worlds, and are psychically charged with all that is being taken in, but your central focus is to respond, to report, to send the inner messages, to keep the lines open. Emergency and crisis sensibility inside of things, searching for signs, and knowing how to be there on the spot to turn things around by inward force of the magical will.

VIRGO 8

A man thinking up names for colors.

The mind is a hilarious thing. It populates the world with its many ideas on top of what is there and then can no longer see things in themselves in their pristine light. We trade direct experience for a culturally rich consciousness. This mental set is marvelously intricate and detailed. Becoming conversant with the human sphere takes up all your time and energy, drawing you ever further into complexity, multiplicity, and appreciation for the beauty and the brilliance of the best in culture and civilization. The refinements and elaborations are infinite in scope. You become an expert, a central force, an adept in working the mind's magic. In the largest picture, this is a perfecting of human intelligence in its concrete, penetrating power, combined with its far-ranging spread into variety and universal brotherhood. It remains narrow-spectrum, rational throughout, but does this up the best it can be done and a little bit better.

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galoogamelady · 7 years

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As promised, here is Meg’s part of this character meme! Buttons’ version is here. I don’t tag anyone because I’m a weak biscuit. Details below the cut!

Full Name: Megan Wednesbury

Gender & Sexuality: female, heterosexual

Pronouns: she, her

Ethnicity/Species: human (wastelander)

Birthplace and Birthdate: Arefu, about 18 years before the events of Fallout 3

Guilty Pleasures:

Hoarding stuff related to Chrono Cowboy, Giddyup Buttercup and anything in the Western genre, really. She’s a bit embarrassed by these childish obsessions but they’re her favorite things.

Bullying the mirelurks under the bridge of Arefu and playing dumb pranks on the Family (like placing heavy objects on their manhole cover).

Telling Buttons about wasteland traditions that never existed for the sole purpose of embarrassing him.

Phobias:

Ghouls, feral and non-feral alike. Her fear stems from an old childhood memory of having witnessed a friend turn feral. While in the last 15 years she conditioned herself well enough to not freak out completely at the sight of a ghoul, she is not fond of them and will do anything to get out of having to do business with one. (Her attitude towards ghouls will improve once she makes some friends.)

What they would become famous for:

Traveling across the wasteland that used to be the United States of America and trading agricultural secrets and tips between the Capital Wasteland, the New Vegas area and the Commonwealth. And hopefully, establishing The Best Ranch/Farm out there.

What have they/would they have gotten arrested for:

A prank or vengeful trick gone wrong. Not cooperating with NCR while in NV. Not cooperating with BoS when back in DC.

OC you ship them with: Buttons. They started dating after he decided to move to Arefu but the two were good friends for a couple months before that.

OC most likely to murder them: Raiders wanting to ransack a caravan or rival traders. She’s got a decade old hate thing going on with the NPC Karen Schenzy. Frankly, I’m surprised they’re both still living in the same town.

Favorite Book Genre: western, cook books, anything about animals + agriculture and comic books. She is dyslexic, therefore she prefers books with images instead of walls of text.

Least Favorite Book Cliche: long dialogues (remember, walls of text is a no-no) and characters who are portrayed as strong but don’t actually prove powerful in any situation whatsoever

Talents and/or Powers: Farming and Trading. Learned most of it from her parents. She wanted to be The Best Trader ever for most of her childhood but at some point decided that she will have The Best Ranch/Farm instead. Thanks to this her Speech and Charisma skills are pretty good.

Strength and Endurance. She’ll hit your head off with a shovel and hike up a mountain without breaking a sweat.

Dancing. She’s a natural. Too bad she’s too shy to actually show it off.

Why someone might love them: She is to-the-point, trustworthy and honest, with a great sense of humor. Courteous and personable with her customers, remembers names and faces relatively well and offers discounts to long time business partners and people in need. Meg is extremely focused on her goals and rightfully proud of her work as a farmer. As a good workaholic, she puts enormous effort into her trade and motivates everyone around her to keep up and develop the settlement and their community. Meg and her family are moderately charitable: as the only farm in the area, they provide the temporary residents of Arefu Common House with food and random goods (it’s great for business, you see!) and occasionally host passing caravans, lending them a guest room and the barn. Meg herself is much more motherly and brooding than she lets on, but her close friends know the truth of just how protective she is. Hardened by growing up in the Capital Wasteland, she’s not afraid to defend her home and would give her life for her town.

Why someone might hate them: Thanks to her work ethics, she often puts her job above her personal relationships or her own health. She comes off as almost aggressively competitive, even when she’s not trying to be (she IS competitive, even if she doesn’t admit to it). Her hardworking personality intimidates and discourages certain people, which provides her with a power high but hinders her efforts in community building. Meg keeps grudges forever and acts upon them in a petty, sneaky way that leaves the offender without incriminating evidence. Thanks to her fear of ghouls, Meg is very awkward around them and might even behave rudely towards innocent ghouls, just to get rid of them.

How they change: Meg’s greatest personal achievement is overcoming her debilitating fear of ghouls. From a humble (lol) farmer she becomes a significant cog in the machine of the Minutemen and furthers the well-being of folks all over the wasteland, wherever she goes. Though I still don’t have detailed plans written out it’s most likely that she will indeed end up owning The Best Ranch/Farm around, because she’s cool like that. ;P

Why you love them: She carries a bunch of admirable traits of my husband, @cameronaugust as she is hardworking, inspiring and comes across as healthily self-confident, radiating this sense of safety. She gets shit done. I’m almost thankful for her for providing Buttons with a safe place and familiar, warm feelings (like belonging to a family) in the vast and scary wasteland. I kind of wish I could be more like her in some ways? I also like her for possessing some childish traits while being such an adult. Like who the hell stays mad at a cow for it being an asshole? Has a crush on a comic book character? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Wants a damn horsey toy as a grown-ass woman? On top of it all, I find the whole idea of “farm people are fucking weird” very entertaining. Just think of Dwight from The Office. Weird shit happens around her all the time!

Her basic bio is here, along with others’.

#text #Meg #OC #long post #bio #Fallout

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moreawesomethantheaveragepossum · 7 years

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Got tagged by: @geoff-lazer lov u Rules: Answer the questions and tag blogs you’d like to know better.

Star sign: Pisces Height: 5 ft 6 in Time right now: 6:26 pm

Last thing googled: “rate constant units” for chem homework ugh I’m dyin

Favorite music artist(s): oh man I have too many but imma say Barenaked Ladies and Queen and Billy Idol because I can’t be sad when I listen to them.

Last TV show watched: Voltron Legendary defender I’m saving the last episode for tomorrow night as my reward for a week well done.

What I’m wearing right now: Uh….. I just got out the shower so. A towel. Oops

When did I create my blog: three or four years ago? Heck idk.

What kind of stuff do I post about: politics lately. Memes for those feel good vibes. My sig. dumb things about my life.

Do I have any other blogs: yeah, a few. One witchy blog, a few hoarded Steven universe urls. An idea for another thing but it’s,,, dumb.

Do I get asks regularly: No ☹️ please send me asks I love talking to people

Why did I choose my url: it all started back in the days where Facebook descriptions were supposed to look like the signatures at the bottom of your deviantart comments and mine was ‘lil but crazy, lil bit lazy, a lot more awesome than the average possum’ with cool letters and swirls and shit. So when I came over here and wanted to change URLs from shaythezombear to smth else, this is what happened.

Gender: no

Pokemon team: INSTINCT? Idk I don’t play normal Pokemon I was too poor as a kid to get the gameboy.

Favorite color(s): green. Yellow.

Average hours of sleep: anywhere from 6-10 depending on the week.

Favorite character(s): will price and jasper (esp jasper my husband) from @headless-horsepossum’s novel, kian and Eugene (esp Eugene my birb son) from @sweetheartblue’s comic. Every single oc in the world I love them all. Peridot from su. Mark Watney from the Martian. Probably more but that’s a start.

Dream job: greenhouse manager or TBH AN ASTRONAUT but let’s be realistic I’m not fuckin mark watney. Also it’d be sick af to make topiaries for a living. I am so down to make art plants.

I tag : @keikigoodbetter @marshmallowfup the above two I tagged already. uhhh. Anyone!!! I’m so sorry if I missed anyone but tag me in the thing if u did it lov u

#tagged for me #life blogging #thing #keikigoodbetter #marshmallowfup #about me #mark watney space pirate

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misterbitches · 3 years

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Im not intelligent at all. In the conventional sense. The ramblings of a girl who just has sooo much going in in her head it's constant. But im not a genius. Or that confusing.

It just sounds like I am bc fandoms have this issue where they can JUSTSO point out the issues in soletiing. They can pick and prod and go oh problematic! But then you go to name the problems and the difficulties within society like for ex: the idea of representation in general. Salivating over it. How fucking sad that is. How we are trained to accept it. So in a BL and also RACE in the bl genre they exploit viewers naivete both domestically and internationally. Ive seen tons of people liken being asian to being a person of color. However, in their predominantly homogenous society (or intentionally publically homogenous society), they are not "poc" (also name the of color; i dont use bipoc idc if u do but it's called being asian guys cos yall aint talkin about black ppl lmao)

They as humans seeing other humans who look like them everywhere, engage with the world differently than an american in asia or asians living outside of their home country (like bae doo nanwhen she worksnin the US is not the same as the bae doo nanworking on a korean program) I dont complain about it in everything i see bc ppl say it ALL THE TIME. but it is NOT the same. Being a person of color is very distinctly an american concept. This is all stuff people will get to know on their own if they choose to dig more.

I do my best to underline what my ugly little eyes process. How i figure things out as a black female american artist too! Im hard on shit cos i should be. I take it seriously. And even if i dont take it seriously bc THEY dont then thats their problem.

I know this is a complaint that I am not alone in. I know it's the internet. I just don't get how people can write really heavy analysis but they refuse to actually probe the underlying issues. Not everyone is me, or like my friends, but if there's way fewer people talking about this stuff it seems absolutely glaring when theres few people engaging in the way i do. It seems like im the glitch but I am thinking just as much just differently.

I really loved where your eyes linger but there was little deep class analysis. I remember few convos a bout it. I know a lot about korea (sigh being a black ex kpop fan lol mess) and i love the history but all ofnit matters! Korea's relation to labor!

People bringing up thai actors snd actresses leaving the industry and doing acting as something quick. As an artist~ who went to film school with insanely wealthy ppl and isnin tons of debt you have to understand how shitty that is. People have monetary access and they just fucking do whatever just because they want to. Meanwhile you have young people being coerced into this bullshit mainstream life to LITERALY just make money bc they dont come from a rich background. The wealth gap in thailand is BAD, theres a dictatorship, they had a fucking coup. The governments like here do not respect their people. Their marginalized groups. Trans thai women, black thai ppl, poor thai ppl. And it LITERALLY CANNOT DO ANYTHING EFFECTIVELY IN CAPITALISM. No nothing can be perfect but if it's going into our eyeballs and we can view the worlld critically then why the fuck not!???

I dont say the things i see are wrong always. I reply when i think i need to. I try and engage with others but not to kuch avail. I just want to rb stuff and tdhink lajfhhdjwhjej.

But like yea theres a lot of just wrong or misguided stuff. A lot of the times it is just historical inaccuracy in framing or idk. A refusal to think outside the box. I dont care. Theres more to life than just sort of looking and not thinking especially for othrr artists.

Idk im sorry. I dont see how i can change how i view things. I really wish people would expand their palettes too and go deeper into other means of art from places! Things not in the mainstream! Theres a lot of good thai artists and a lot of them critical as fuck about their country as they should be. Authority, austerity, patriarchy, capital, racism etc like that is central to a power thats interested in growing gains and fiscal and social power. Theres rly radical or left leaning etc ppl out there in the world and these countries in these communities. So they exist. No people in these countries dont have NO clue whats going on. Cultural relativism is alsos something people should understand. I had a good talk with ppl on here a while ago about that. Talking about shit, critiquing, but being respectful to a group. Part of thay is realizing these groups CLEARLY know their own issues and all our cultures share the same goal. Guess what it is. It rhymes with acquiring wealth. Money means you hurt people. In the post, we talked about use of "wife" and "husband" which is a stupid joke that has been "explained" a billion times and yet the explanations still dont seem to answer or justify a minor problem (it's very funny to me that a language that doesnt have gendered pronouns is now very specific about two men. Hmmm wonder why. It is annoying.)

So im not the only person on the planet doing this. Or the few ppl ive seen that do. Im not new my thoughts arent new. Ive gotten to see another side to a culture i knew not much about and that means i can put the context of my beliefs and life and try and understand thheirs. For ex i learned from ITSAY because of a sign that said 'french food' that they were the only country to not be colonized back then. Do you know how integral that history is to their region? That was an interesting detail (i didnt finish itsay bc ihad a lot going on and i was rly upset that i would see hownrich they are and i hate that.)

Anyways thats my complaint. It used to feel like a sting of rejection. I left online for months in 2019, i started organizing more, joined a union, trying to do some panther work shit like that. I learned a lot in those months and it changed my life! But when I came back, I felt so isolated. It wasnt my true friends tho sometimes theyre ANNOYINGGGGG (love u) but it was me being like "if we are going to complain guys then lets put our money where our mouth is" lets be fucking serious about it then. No say it with your chest dude. It isnt difficult. Go with the fucking flow, talk about it, critique it, think. You can still fucking like itnor love it.

I am BLACK ok and i love rap. I am a black woman. I will continue to clown black men that cant seem to not clown themselves and listen. No i wont support monetarily: drake is a creep and i hate him but i bump that niggas song. Thats fucking LIFE. I got so sick of hiding myself and it became clear that it wasnt that i wasntthinking well or hard enough. They just didnt like that i said we need to commit class suicide and inspect out middle class sensibilities and middle class wealth hoarding (google it) if thats what we engaged with. Every part of you, antagonize it. I still have my privileges; class, skin color, even my father being a nigerian immigrant, me being cis, im not str8 but not a lesbian and those are differences.

Insecurities in general but some shallow thoughts (?) on discussion in "fandom" space. FYI, this will most likely stay the same. I tend to stay in my own bubble socially IE me and my friends are similar in our views. During this awful year while running my union's account, im surrounded by like minds. Me and my friends? We changed together. We grew up and saw what we didnt like and what we want. We do our best.And i CHOOSE my life to be that way bc it should be. There is no solution. I dont believe in solutions because the solution is to abolish capital or just divest. Abolishing capital and labor are a huge one and i will die before that happens (but so help me as long as im alive? Black women to FREEDOMMMM is my motto!) so making your own path in life is the best thing an artist can do IN MY OPINION.

However with technology and stuff this puts another layer onto things. Tech, social media, this shit....it THRIIIIIIIVESSSSSSS off of conflict and shallow readings of the world. We are literally primed for it. Engagement in bites. Impossible for me with my brain; i got used to it and i paid for it by limiting my scope. Not being encouraged to THINK AND READ before just speaking

(For ex i am in iww, i helped form a branch here. It is a radical union. Unionism is imprative to me-if ur interested u should read up on some. Look up peter cole! Google inthesetimes Ilwu. Gives you some understanding. Ive always been progressive and now i am....very left idk ic ant label myself. But even in my progrssiveness i had the gall to tell my white friend, whoa has her privileges but i had mine with our class disparity, that we dont need unions, i have WORKED retail. Ive done barista work for sonoing and i do gig work. So i wasnt out of touch. I had been stiffed even with a shoot i was working on by rich kids. So i had a frame of reference . But i didnt know what the FUCKa union was and why it is imperative. Then learning about anarcho syndicalism and all these other things. It changed my fucking life but two years earlier i was this idiot spouting shit like that making one of my best friends fucking upset. We DO AND CAN CHANGE. Think!!!!)

So were i a creator for tv id just constantly try and push the buttons if i need big money. Make them sell into me (thank you sonic youth!) theres Endless possibilities guys which means theres SO MUCH TK EXPLORE!!!! When i wanna have fun with it i just have fun. When i want to think i do. I dont understand why we are so dedicated to upholding things and doing mental gymnastics to end up in a space you dont need mental gymnastics for. What about these critiques makes you uncomfortable? Saying we're all part of the problem as spectators? Im sorry but we will always be. Thats LIFE. God fuck. Fuck me. I feel so fucking worthless and stupid sometimes. I know I am not. I know i am talented and intelligent. I know my friends and family. I know how to approach ppl. I know how to tell people if they are rich but want to be progressive whatsup. I choose how i live part of that is being ok to say what i want.

Ironically consrrvatives say this shit alot. But they arent ever alone bc their ideology is default. But yea it does feel shitty. It even feels shitty when ur in left circles but people STILL dont even wanna do that. These perspectives really arent ss many as they should be. I dont want to feel so alone with it. I know there are more. I just love art and the world so fucking much, endless possibility. Endless pain but endless good.

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lauraramargosian · 4 years

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COVID-19 depression pandemic, how to cope.

The COVID-19 depression pandemic, how to cope and beat this virus.

Under the circumstances of the COVID-19 pandemic, many have reached a level of sadness they have never felt before in their life.

With that in mind, the last couple of months have been dreadful for the world. Many have lost family to the virus. Most importantly and sadly, many are not allowed to say goodbye, or hold funeral services due to the limitations and self-distancing rules of each state.

Can you imagine, think of the person you love the most, imagine you couldn’t have a “proper,” goodbye and way to grieve, wouldn’t that feel awful?

In the hope that you feel alone, remember, we are feeling this with you.

We spoke to Bren who opened up about his internal depression since the hit of COVID-19.

“There’s no motivation, to do anything, the worst part about it is the fact, I don’t know feels like there is less meaning, you feel less fulfilled because you don’t feel like accomplishing as much or you don’t feel like.. Things blend together, you don’t have as many outside experiences, just becomes repetitive.”

Pandemic outbreaks can leave you anxious.

As a result of COVID-19, men, women, children, families, and friends could be feeling this in silence, so be aware to look for signs of depression and stress.

In fact, fear and anxiety are hitting the country, with zero discrimination.

What are some of the anxieties people are feeling (for those who feel fine)?

The fear and worry about your own health.

Being immunocompromised and anxiety create a perfect storm, it’s scary.

Sleeping more than usual, or a change in sleeping habits.

Those who are at high risk, face chronic health problems.

Worsening of anxiety and mental health.

Lack of productivity, and loss of interest in activities a person used to love.

Difficulty concentrating.

Fear of money and getting bills on time.

The coronavirus COVID-19 is affecting 209 countries and territories around the world and 2 international conveyances.

As a consequence, the world decided to collect everything they could, resulting in a lack of PPE and equipment to cope with the current 1,495,051 global cases, with 87,469 deaths.

Unfortunately, the United States of America now has 419,975 cases, with 14,262 total deaths. It’s a scary fact, and as mentioned, this virus does not discriminate.

Unfortunately, every death is a story, filled with pain. When a mother has to hold their 27-year-old child for the last time when husbands and wives pass away, it’s horrifying and children, those grieving are still likely in shock.

Channel your inner love and activism in the midst of COVID-19

So, are more tests needed in order to prevent more pain? According to the specialists, our new normal is, it’s not going to happen fast.

The Chief White House Jim Acosta opened up about the administration is considering opening up the country but top doctors are warning the U.S still has some tough days ahead.

Why are prevention and social distancing important?

Social distancing means you have to keep space between you and other people outside of your home.

Keep at the very minimum of 6 feet (2 meters) from other people. Gathering of groups is highly discouraged and fines could be instated. Avoid mass gatherings, yes this means church as well. Order from local fast-food restaurants to avoid contact at stores, it’s a great alternative. Most importantly, stay home, unless you are an essential worker.

Alright, it may feel really annoying to constantly be stuck in the house due to social distancing but as reported on CNN the lines are starting to curve, while we are about 2-weeks behind, it seems it will get worse before it gets better.

Especially because it was mentioned that COVID-19 has the ability to come back at a later time this year.

When it comes to those who are high-risk patients with underlying disease, it’s a nightmare.

Don’t forget, love yourself, shower, always get dressed every day, these routines will help your depression and creating a routine usually allows us to feel “fulfilled,” because humans have always loved to work, and to go out and celebrate birthdays and holidays.

“I feel absolutely depressed, turning 30-years-old today and suffering from Crohn’s disease is scary, especially during this pandemic. I’m a high-risk patient and controlling my symptoms without available specialty providers can be difficult. I mean, who wants to risk their provider’s health or their own? Truthfully, sometimes I lay at night and just hope I won’t wake up. But that’s just anxiety and depression kicking in, I know I’m not alone, yet feel alone because not many “healthy,” people understand the stress of being a high-risk potential future patient. Last, to me, it’s not about “if I get it,” it’s when I get it. In the hope that it comes when there is treatment or after an available vaccine.”

What’s trending on Reddit regarding COVID-19?

Reddit user DistractedScholar34 explained it in the easiest way to understand, sharing:

“Compared to the flu, COVID-19 is much more infectious and more deadly. The death rate for COVID-19 is about 3.4%, while the death rate for seasonal influenza is about 0.1%. The R0 value (The average number of people that each infected person spreads the disease to) of COVID-19 is 2-3.11, while the R0 value of the flu is 1.3. COVID-19 is deadly because it’s not deadly, which seems kind of counter-intuitive. SARS, for example, has a 15% death rate, which is about 5 times higher than COVID-19, but it only had a death toll of 774, whereas COVID-19’s death toll is 7,900 and counting. So, in the big picture, COVID-19 kills more people, because most of the people who get infected are still alive, with fairly mild symptoms, walking around, ready to infect more people, rather than dead, or crippled with symptoms so severe they are confined to a hospital bed. Stay safe. Stay home. Wash your hands. Don’t hoard supplies.”

Well, it was said perfectly, just a little bit of care and understanding how to properly prepare, and prevent.

The COVID-19 related depression is likely to continue, so it’s vital to check on your friends and family.

Most importantly, don’t argue and treat people with disrespect, people who have the virus may not be vocal about it, it can be that terrifying.

Knowing Symptoms of Coronavirus.

Reported illnesses have ranged from mild symptoms to severe illness and death for confirmed coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) cases.

These symptoms may appear 2-14 days after exposure (based on the incubation period of MERS-CoV viruses).

Fever

Cough

Shortness of breath

When to Seek Medical Attention

If you develop emergency warning signs for COVID-19 get medical attention immediately. Emergency warning signs include*:

Trouble breathing

Persistent pain or pressure in the chest

New confusion or inability to arouse

Bluish lips or face

*This list is not all-inclusive. Please consult your medical provider for any other symptoms that are severe or concerning.

The best action to beat COVID-19 related anxiety and depression.

Call your friends and family on video chat, play games on your tablets, exercise the mind with board games or coloring.

It’s okay to go into your back yard and get some sun (close your eyes and be present).

Play video games, connect with friends and force yourself to talk on a mic or go on video.

Talk to people about your concerns, just letting it out helps.

Cry if you need too, sometimes, we don’t why we feel like crying. Regardless of your gender, just let it out.

Last and most importantly, stay safe, stay positive, love yourself and under the circumstances, happy Passover, and any other holidays going on at this time.

It will be okay, check out the videos below, they were provided by Brendan Warkentin, who saw this on VOX, who has been studying this disease since the start, perfect way to watch its actions.

Blessed be.

How wildlife trade is linked to coronavirus

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Coronavirus is not the flu. It’s worse.

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arkandeve · 6 years

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Let the purge begin!

Drowning in a sea of kid’s clothes?

Let the purge begin!

Jessica Brook, founder of sustainable children’s clothing label, Ark & Eve, reflects on her journey through early motherhood, and why simplicity and sustainability now guide her decisions.

“It’s a girl!!” she said holding up four different outfits with matching shoes, socks and bows.

This was me at 18 weeks pregnant with my first child. An ecstatic mess of hormonal tears every time I even walked past a remotely cute outfit for my unborn baby girl. Little did I know she wouldn’t grow hair to tie up with the ribbons I bought, for at least the first two years of her life. I had not anticipated she would inherit my ‘wider foot’ and would never comfortably fit her first, or second, pair of converse sneakers. How could I have possibly foreseen that dresses were just not her thing and being anything other than naked for the first 18 months of her life was just not an option.

The Confession

I had been collecting, some call it hoarding, clothes for my children long before they were any more than just a dream. A not so secret cupboard dedicated to neither gender specific clothing ranging from newborn to seven years was perfectly normal. Wasn’t it?

Now, digging a little deeper, I noticed an unhealthy sense of satisfaction when I added to the collection. Two years of counselling and a husband who was now having to find space in the garage for his unmentionables, led to the realisation that my childhood spent being teased about the clothes I wore had manifested into a serious overcompensation for my own little people.

Fast forward five years and the kids clothing rack isn’t getting any smaller.

Add another little bundle of joy, a serious downsize on cupboard space after relocating to a tiny Queenslander (which I will add, has no built in’s what so ever), and I still have size seven red skinny jeans waiting patiently for my kids to get some wear out of them. Not to mention the full blown fashion obsessed five-year-old that even with an erupting chest of draws still has ‘nothing to wear’ (insert eye roll). The abundance of clothes, the morning meltdowns when choosing something to wear, the never-ending washing, drying, folding and washing all over again, was getting a little… ok a lot, out of hand.

It can happen top the best of us.

The most recent NATSEM report shows parents and carers on a typical middle income pay up to $22802 on clothing for children from birth until they finish their education. This is more than health ($22708) and education ($22322).

Not only are we spending a huge amount on clothing for our children each year, Aussies are sending 85% of textiles to landfill.

“Australians buy an average of 27 Kilograms of new textiles each year and then discard about 23 kilograms into landfill – and two thirds of those discards are manmade, synthetic, plastic fibres that never break down.” https://textilebeat.com/aussies-send-85-of-textiles-to-landfill/

With the option to buy kids clothes online at out fingertips, major chain stores selling unethically manufactured t-shirts for $3 a piece, and a large percentage of people throwing clothes out after a couple of wears, the fast fashion dilemma can sometimes seem overwhelming and too big to tackle, much like the wardrobe in the children’s bedroom.

Time to intervene…the capsule wardrobe

“As I have aged, my sense of what I like has become clearer, my actions have become more earth conscious…”

While the kids wardrobe had been ever expanding, mine had been getting smaller. As I have aged my sense of what I like has become clearer, my actions have become significantly more earth conscious and the literally sickening feeling I experienced if buying unethical, unsustainable items pushed me to have an unintentional capsule wardrobe.

Let the purge begin!

With a little bit of gentle encouragement, and persuasion, a few items began being donated to charity. A few more were given to friends and family who needed them. A few more were put away to be handed down… and unpacked a hundred times over the course of their lifetime, when I’m feeling sentimental about how tiny they once were.

4 Piles to guide the purge.

Keep Pile:

Does it get worn regularly?

Is it sustainable? Quality is important when washing becomes more frequent with a capsule wardrobe. While some styles at cheaper chain stores are really very lovely, I have found that they can’t last more than a couple of washes before they lose their shape, shrink or pill. We aim to buy less and buy quality.

Is it comfortable? This includes the cut, the size, the material, ease of wear.

Can it transfer between seasons? Can it be easily layered?

Can it be transferred between siblings – boys and girls included.

Donate Pile

Still has plenty of wear left.

These items don’t get worn regularly.

The clothes no longer fit.

Generous second hand clothes you may not have room for.

Reuse Pile

Use for cleaning rags.

Convert to dolls clothes.

Use the natural materials in your compost.

Keep some for painting shirts or mud pie making clothes.

Sentimental

Something special. I have a few hand-made pieces that both my grandmothers made for me when I was little. These have been worn by my children and may even be worn by theirs.

Some special moments pieces. I have kept the I dressed my babies in on the day I bought them home from hospital.

Other beautiful pieces from special brands that may be passed down to the next generation.

Our aim is to simplify, reduce, choose carefully, invest in quality and say no to the things we don’t really need.

From obsession to donation

My, lets be honest, ‘obsession’ with children’s clothing has now transformed into something I’m very proud of, Ark and Eve. We are a sustainable and ethical option for kids clothes online, using only natural plant dyed fabrics, practical designs that grow with your child, and quality construction to ensure their longevity as they are handed down. We include Ark & Eve in our capsule but also hold a few other brands very near and dear. But more on this later…

Sarah Lazarovic’s Buyercrchy is a great place to start when building a capsule wardrobe for your children

There are plenty of sustainable, high quality options when buying baby and kids clothes online. In Australia we have more and more labels taking ethical and sustainable responsibility. Also the recent trend of selling pre-loved children’s clothing through Instagram has opened up opportunities for many people to pass on beautiful pieces at a reduced cost and is an accessible option for those buying second hand clothes that have been carefully curated.

For my daughter of five.

This is her entire wardrobe for all seasons. I have tried to include everything we actually have and ours is by no means perfect.

Dresses x 7 (Dresses are her favourite). She wears them every day. We choose designs that can be layered for winter, are well made and use natural fibres.

Skirt x 2

Shorts x 2

Shirts x 5

Jeans x 1

Tights x 4

Sandals x 1

Boots x 1

Sneakers x 1

Underwear x 10

Swimwear x 2

Socks x 8

Singlet x 3

Hat x 1

Jumper x 2

Raincoat x 1

Parker x 1

We also have a collection for extracurricular activities such as a karate gi, ballet leotard, snow clothes and quite a big dress up basket… which I have been told by my daughter, is off limits for the purge.

No one comes between a five-year-old and her Queen Elsa dress, right?

We care a whole lot about the clothes we create, if you would like to add a piece from our collection of sustainable children’s and babies clothing to your child’s capsule wardrobe visit www.arkandeve.com.au

If you would like to hear more about our ongoing journey in sustainable fashion join our mailing list www.arkandeve.com.au

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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7 Things to Know About New York’s Infamous Coffee Addiction

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7 Things to Know About New York’s Infamous Coffee Addiction

I am addicted to coffee. It seems like everyone I know is addicted, too. The dependency takes on a special level of urgency when you live in a place like New York City, where the simple act of leaving one’s apartment — straight into hoards of pedestrian traffic — requires a kick-you-in-the-ass jolt of caffeine. Coffee is as vital to my ability to function as a properly running subway system. It’s the fuel that keeps the engine of this absurd city running.

Nobody knows this better than Erin Meister, coffee raconteur, former barista and current managing editor of Cafe Imports in Minneapolis. In her new book, New York City Coffee: A Caffeinated History, she tells the story of why this city (literally) never sleeps. From the amateur coffee roasters of colonial New Amsterdam to the current third-wave coffee craze, Meister reveals through history, commentary and interviews with New York’s colorful coffee community how the addictive drink became the city’s most democratic and emblematic beverage.

Below are seven things you may not know about New York’s coffee obsession.

Coffee Was First Roasted At Home

You know your friend in Brooklyn who makes her own everything? Kimchi, ricotta, suspenders, macramé coasters? You may want to tell her she’s not so much “on trend” as she is part of a long DIY tradition. In the late 17th century, in a newly minted New York City, women were roasting their own coffee long before the process became industrialized.

“Green coffee was scooped from barrels and bagged into greased sacks, ready to be pan-roasted by housewives whose ceilings blackened with the smoke of the scorched coffee beans,” writes Meister of the process that was not only stinky, but also highly flammable, and yes, dangerous. Not until the middle of the nineteenth century did the inventor Jabez Burns, a New Yorker, create the equipment that made it possible to successfully roast big batches of coffee, playing a vital role in bringing a once-exclusive drink to the masses.

Lower Manhattan Was The Coffee District

It only makes sense that New York would give rise to a neighborhood named for coffee (priorities!). After all, there’s a Diamond District and a Garment District, and coffee matters way more than either of those things if you ask me. The city’s first coffee importers set up shop in lower Manhattan, paving the way for roasters and trading firms. By the late 18th century, the Coffee District was born. It was the gateway through which most of America’s coffee filtered into the country (see what I did there?).

By 1876, the U.S. was importing about a third of the world’s coffee, the bulk of which came through the Port of New York. Gillies Coffee, the country’s oldest coffee merchant, got its start in 1840 in the caffeinated quarter, on Washington Street (now they’re located in Brooklyn). But, like most great things in Manhattan, the Coffee District wasn’t long for this world. Meister writes of a twentieth century mass exodus, “Before the downtown rents spiked and moved the coffee men to the outer boroughs, Lower Manhattan was constantly enveloped in the aroma of roasting coffee.”

*deep inhale*

Coffee’s Biggest Trends Started Here

Whether it’s the height of our buildings, the award-winning credits of our pizza or the quality of our drinking water, New Yorkers are all about bragging rights, and our coffee cred is up there. Some evidence:

–William Black, the founder of famous coffee brand Chock full o’Nuts, was born in Bushwick and planted the seed of his coffee empire in a Times Square hole-in-the-wall in 1926.

-America’s first espresso machine, built in 1902 and imported from Italy, can be seen at Cafe Reggio in Greenwich Village, which plied New Yorkers with their first espressos and foamy cappuccinos in 1927.

-The Porto Rico Importing Company, in the Village since 1902 and also still in business, pioneered the flavored coffee fad of the ‘80s (think hazelnut and crème de menthe).

-Ever heard of a little café Starbucks? Howard Schultz, the former CEO who catapulted the brand to global domination, grew up in Canarsie, Brooklyn, before turning Americans into latté snobs.

Coffee Fueled the Workforce

Coffee wasn’t always the magic substance that fueled people through their workdays. It took on that status between World War I and World War II, when the combination of affordable coffee and cheap labor powered the industrial revolution in New York City and made the magic elixir indispensable to workers.

“That particular era of the industrial revolution in the States involved mechanization and the invention of convenience foods, as well as the idea of people toiling in factories and needing coffee as a way of staying awake,” Meister says. Add to that the diners and automats that inexpensively sustained the workforce. “Coffee was something that you could drink all day, every day for almost a nickel,” says Meister, of a less-than-quality swill that might have given New York coffee a bad name. Doctor that with free milk and sugar, and it was a meal.

Women Were Banned from Coffee Shops

It’s hard to imagine a café in New York City that is not packed with women working on their laptops, tolerating insanely dry vegan scones, charging their phones, etc. But coffee houses were once boys clubs. “Women just weren’t entitled to go out alone,” says Meister of the coffee house’s early days in New York. Only in the 1920s and 1930s did that change. “Women started to gain more political clout and stand up for their rights and advocate for themselves in the workplace,” says Meister. “That’s when business people really saw the opportunity, saying, ‘We’re missing out on half of the population that we could be getting a profit from.’” But creating a place that appealed to both genders apparently proved challenging. “You had this really interesting thing where there were lunch counters where most of the working men went, and tea houses or coffee houses where women went.”

One of New York’s Great Coffee Entrepreneurs Was a Woman

It only makes sense that it would take a woman to figure out how to market coffee to other women. Alice Foote MacDougall, a socialite born to a wealthy New York family, became the city’s first female coffee broker, and ultimately, the creator of those coffee houses for women. “She married a wholesale green coffee seller, had three kids, and then he died. She decided, ‘Well, I listened to my husband prattle on enough about coffee. I guess I could probably sell it,’” says Meister. So she did, roasting and delivering coffee door to door, and eventually opening The Little Coffee Shop in Grand Central Terminal in 1919.

“One day, she was really struggling,” says Meister. “It was one of those miserable spring days we all know in New York where it’s raining and windy and the wet is coming at you from all directions. She sent her maid to go get the waffle iron from her house. They made waffles and sold them for five cents with a free cup of coffee. Somehow, it just hit.”

MacDougall went from having no customers to 2,000 a day. She followed her success by opening a coffee and waffle restaurant in midtown, which became the inspiration for the film The Imitation of Life. Later on, she went to Italy on a cruise, “discovered” espresso, and opened up an ersatz Italian cafe. “She’s the ultimate appropriator,” says Meister. She ended up losing her fortune, which grew to the millions, in the financial crash, but nonetheless, MacDougall’s success was a phenomenon.

Italians and Greeks Helped Create New York City’s Coffee Culture

What would New York coffee culture be without baristas pumping out steaming espresso shots, or Greek diners and their bottomless cups of coffee and Anthora to-go cups? “Italians had coffee as part of their daily life earlier than a lot of New Yorkers did because in Italy, their industrial revolution, which is what espresso was born out of, happened in the early 1900s,” says Meister. “Also the incredible efficiency of Greek immigrants and the ways the Greek entrepreneurial spirit really took over dining. The combination of those two Mediterranean cultures really made coffee part of the daily experience of everyone in New York City.”

In today’s New York, coffee is a luxury item. Third-wave shops sell $19 pouches of single-origin ground beans, charge $5 for a pour-over and espouse a small-batch, self-roasting way of life. In a way, coffee in New York has come full circle: it started as a precious commodity enjoyed by few, and, given the current movement, carries a whiff of elitism once again. Thankfully, there’s still that coffee cart on the corner to bring balance to our coffee-scape, not to mention the trusty moka pot currently percolating in my kitchen. I can smell the home-brew already.

Gabriella Gershenson is a food and travel writer in New York City. Find her on Instagram and Twitter.

Photos by Louisiana Mei Gelpi.

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