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mrs-nate-humphrey · 3 years

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how would rank nate's girlfriends (in terms of their relationships with nate and them as people)? lmao

hmm. this is hard. what’s easy is saying i loved natessa best, and hated naterine most. more under the cut!

i think i’ve mentioned enough times that most people know i think nate & vanessa were the best - they both supported each other equally, their relationship was very 50/50, they both respected & valued each other, etc. their relationship was so real and so balanced, i really loved watching that play out and think it made no sense, the way they caused the dissolution of it? especially since after breaking up with vanessa he suddenly seems really into commitment - see how he is with bree buckley!! where was that energy when you were dating someone who was actually cool, natie!

i don’t know where to put serenate, because i love serena as a character, and i think nate was very committed to that relationship from day 1, but i don’t think serena ever took him as seriously as he deserved to be taken / as HE took her, & i don’t see that particular relationship to be fulfilling in a long-term way for similar reasons that i don’t ship danessa romantically. their break up felt organic to me. that said, serena WAS his best friend and she did care about him and want him to be happy, which is more than you can say for most of nate’s girlfriends.

blair & nate may not have had any sort of romantic spark when we saw them on the show (& honestly, i think nate was initially not a very good bf to blair)- but blair did her best to be there for him, and the implication of childhood friends is that she was there, paying attention for him & being there for him for a really long time. i think blair/nate had a really strong platonic connection that the show never went into, and i think by virtue of that they still rank relatively high from a nate pov at least.

jenny/nate is also complicated to place, partially because i’m always going to be partial to lesbian!jenny & probably won’t write her as anything else. that said, of late, i’ve been seeing people who love her as much as me, if not more, who see her as someone who likes men, and the last thing i want to do is start a fandom war over ‘is this female character with unspecified sexuality lesbian or bi?’ because those NEVER end well. anyway i’ve become more tolerant to interpretations of jenny that aren’t her being lesbian, and i HAVE read a decent chunk of really good n/j fic. i think they had a closeness on the show that neither of them had with anyone else, where they could talk about their trauma with each other, which makes them special to me. that said, i don’t think their canon dynamic was necessarily the healthiest - jenny often used nate as a means to like, obtain social power, and nate became more passive than ever and just let jenny do whatever she wanted? it’s interesting to me because i feel, theoretically, like nate & jenny could be really healthy together but the show didn’t do that.

i have a really weird soft spot for jenate shippers though, ever since i got those hateful jennycourse anons. i just hope y’all are having a good time in fandom, and not being dragged down by losers who send anon hate. (unconnected fun fact: sending me ship hate only makes me ship something more! and feel the urge to validate people who ship it.)

now we have a ton of guest stars & relatively unmemorable girlfriends.

i liked lola and raina!!! raina & nate > lola & nate, for me, tbh. raina & nate had such a childlike enthusiasm and during that day that they do things they’ve never done before, they were both SO happy and it was so cute. eating ice-cream together, talking about starting an ice-cream company, raina kicking nate’s ass at just dance... i wish we’d gotten more raina. i think i actually like raina x nate more than serenate, come to think of it. we didn’t have enough of her, though. raina would’ve been such a GOOD series regular.

i liked lola & nate!!! lola reminds me of kelsi from hsm for some reason i cannot articulate, and her relationship with nate was VERY chill. low-pressure, drama free, etc, from what i remember. twas cute.

now we are into the less nice ones!

bree :( nate was so into this relationship and there were times when he seemed like he would genuinely be happy with her, but i disliked bree as a character so much that i just could NOT get behind his happiness. it baffles me how men settle for bree buckley after vanessa abrams.

juliet, next. i never liked juliet from the beginning, and i say this as a flex ;) idk she was just really pushy, and her whole “I Can Help You Improve Your Life Even Though You Have No Idea Who I Am” thing felt like a major red flag. i felt vindictive glee about my judgement being right on that one, lmao.

sage goes here, because we only have catherine & diana next. but to be really honest, i think the problem with the sage/nate relationship was nate. he should not have been dating her once he realised she was in high school. teenagers have crushes on people in their 20s!! it’s normal!!! it’s the responsibility of the adults to Not engage and to turn them down if they try to initiate something!!

diana is the second worst to me - the fact that she’s working for nate’s grandfather, the hashtag workplace harassment of it all... it’s really devastating.

i’ve implied before on this blog that catherine (& naterine) was the worst thing - genuinely traumatic, and it’s implied that after a point, she’s manipulating him & all the sex is coerced, which is undeniably the most terrible. like... the implications are of caon rape, so it really does not get worse than this.

i have not counted jordan steele or ivy dickens (she was never really his gf, she just kissed him + i can’t take her really seriously, given that she was cheating on dan’s dad with serena’s dad and apparently this was completely unironic and non-satirical) because the wikia says that they never officially dated & unlike jenate, those 2 aren’t even Main Characters.

#anon #nate archibald #so it bears saying that this is ALLL my opinion #anyway people who follow me #if y'all disagree or don't like this order that's totally fine #to the best of my knowledge a lot of serenate shippers follow me #& i think y'all are very cool #update: removed the anti serenate tag #because i don't REALLY think this is anti serenate #they rank pretty high!#oh damn the #rape mention #tag got removed. so im putting it back

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angelhummel · 3 years

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I'm not in the degrassi fandom either, even though I watch it, but when ever I try to look up some posts on Tumblr it seems like Lola is one of the top 5 characters??

just because she's sweet and ditzy, idk everyone's entitled to like what they want but there's so many interesting characters on the show and Lola just sits at such an average level to me

I find the girl outright irritating a lot of the time tbh she did get sort of good in the last 2 seasons but I still don't see what makes her such a stand out amongst such a big cast

I mean yeah she's the only one of those NC girlies that I sooort of started to like by the end. And maybe if the show went on from there, I really could've grown to like her. Like Holly J or Bianca or Zoe or someone like that. I mean most of those girls arguably did much worse things than Lola. But Lola is that annoying character type I hate where their main character trait is just "ditzy" so no one holds them accountable for the racist or other offensive shit they say

Like Goldi straight up saying "It's racist to assume I'm in an arranged marriage" and Lola is immediately like "Oh yeah, are you? Just curious!" and it's supposed to be like. Haha, that Lola! Like no. Shut up lmao

But yeah idk there's literally a million other amazing girls to choose from and to get so hung up on Lola is. A preference, I suppose (: To each their own

#degrassi #asks #answered #my thoughts #anonymous #not glee #anti lola pacini

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theherondaels · 7 years

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Oh No (A Soy Luna Next Gen Fanfic)

I updated in less than three months, that's a new record lol

Now here is part 1 of Matteo's reaction xD

Have fun reading!!!

7. Karma

"These heels are killing me," Luna complained as she got out of the car. "Well, you wanted to wear them," Matteo reminded her, offering her his arm. "Oh, how gentlemanly of you," Luna grinned, taking it. He gave her a charming smile, "When am I not?"

Luna laughed a little. "I can think of many moments," she teased.

"We both know I have the better memory," he said, walking with her to their house. Luna mumbled something Matteo didn't quite catch, but he let it slide, being too busy opening the front door with his key.

When the door was finally unlocked, Matteo switched the light of the staircase on. It was only now that he noticed that there was no light on in the living room. He pointed it out to Luna, who was freeing her feet from her uncomfortable heels. Matteo shed off his jacket. "I'll check on them," she said, meaning the kids. She winced a bit, "But first I'll have to get some blistering plasters."

Matteo pitied her, even though he had told her that they still had to walk a little bit to the restaurant and new heels surely weren't for a situation like that. His wife, being as stubborn as she was, hadn't listened to him and was now walking up the stairs very slowly.

"Take your time," Matteo grinned, taking off his dress shoes. Luna's reply was drowned out by the telephone ringing. "I'll get it," Matteo yelled, making his way quickly to the living room.

Seeing the caller ID, Matteo answered immediately. "Gastón, what is it?" he asked worriedly. It was half past nine. His best friend never called that late.

"What no hello? I'm hurt!" Matteo rolled his eyes, Gastón's voice sounded too normal to have anything bad happened. "And may I remind you that you once called me at 3am, totally freaking out, because-"

He was cut off by Matteo. "Yes, everybody knows the story. Why are you calling?" he asked, tone indicating annoyance now. "I was worried, bro!" Gastón's voice was full of concern, "You weren't answering your phone again and I thought-" Matteo interrupted him a second time. "Luna and I went out. It was a gift for her birthday. Last year," Matteo like felt that he needed to add that. "Oh, date night," he heard Luis whistle in the background. "Wow, you're really early there," Gastón added in a deadpanned manner, ignoring his son's comment. "I know," Matteo sighed. With their schedules it hadn't been possible earlier. At least they had made it before her next birthday, which was less than a month away.

"So, why did you call?" Matteo asked, having genuinely no idea what could be important enough that Gastón had called him on his phone. At least twice. "As I said, I was worried. Not that you're already thinking about - or worse committing - murder."

"Wait, what?" Matteo sat down on the couch, expression equally alarmed and confused, "Why should I murder someone?"

Gastón now too realized that Matteo had no idea why he had called. "Oh my god! You don't know yet!" he shouted loudly. Giggling could be heard from the other end of the line. "This is going to be so great. Nina, get the camera!"

"Gastón, what's going on?" Matteo asked, more annoyed than earlier. "Gastón, don't," Nina's voice could be heard in the background. "Yes, Dad, do!" Luis encouraged his father. "Tell him! Or I will!" Lola shouted.

"Well, the majority has decided," he could literally hear the grin Gastón was without doubt wearing right now. Matteo made a mental note to gift Ofelia two books for her birthday this year, since his goddaughter hadn't participated in the conversation.

"Check our group chat. You'll have to scroll up a few times though," Gastón informed him, still sounding very cheerful. Matteo would have rolled his eyes, but he had a really bad feeling about this.

"Matteo, who's calling?" He turned around, eyes landing on Luna. She still wore her blue knee-length dress, but her expression wasn't as pained anymore. Matteo covered the loudspeaker with his thumb, Gastón - and his family - didn't need to hear their conversation. "Did something happen?" she asked quietly while walking up him, concern evident on her face. "It's Gastón." Worry flashed in Luna's eyes. "Nothing awful happened," Matteo clarified quickly, "He sounded way too happy for that." His voice had become somewhat bitter by the end. Luna knitted her brow at that.

He held the telephone far away from him. "It kinda scares me," Matteo admitted, running his other hand through his hair. While his best friend had done some weird things in all those years he'd known him, like trying to set up Luis and Stella using a Lion King song (thankfully that hadn't worked!), Matteo somehow just knew that he wasn't going to like the reason of Gastón's call.

He didn't explain further, so Luna revived their earlier topic.

"I think they're both asleep. Their lights are out," she whispered. Matteo raised an eyebrow. "Even Stella's?" he questioned, eyeing the clock. It was still before her normal bedtime. "Maybe the day simply out powered her," Luna shrugged. "Or her age is finally catching up to her," Matteo joked. Luna's laugher filled the room, "Don't let her hear that."

"Hey, Matteo, hey? Have you seen it?" Gastón's overexcited voice could be heard in the entire living room. Why was he yelling again? Matteo sighed annoyed and handed the telephone to Luna. "Hey Gastón," she greeted her husband's best friend. "Luna, Luna," Gastón repeated her name hectically, "You have to do me a favour and record this!"

"Gastón, I'm not recording this," Luna said, having not even an inkling what Gastón was on about. "At least tell me his reaction," he begged. "If you tell me what this is all about," she tried to compromise. "Okay, but don't tell Matteo anything. I want to do that," he stated his condition. "I won't," she promised. "Okay," Gastón lowered his voice, Luna could barely even hear him, so Matteo definitely couldn't. "Stella and Andrés kissing on the street," he sang, laughter interrupting his own words with laughter. Luna's eyes resembled plates now. "What?" she sputtered. That got Luna her husband's attention. "Did he tell you?" he asked tentatively.

"No, he didn't!" Matteo fully knew that his wife was lying. Her panicked voice always gave her away. Remembering Gastón's earlier words, he fished his phone out from the pocket of his dress pants. "Well, I'll check my messages then," he said, unlocking his phone. "Matteo, please don't do that," Luna pleaded, already knowing it wouldn't end well if he did.

He would have a heart attack and die.

Matteo ignored her, opening WhatsApp. He started to read the messages from their friends, his look becoming more worried with each second. Suddenly, the Italian's brow furrowed. "Why should Pedro get Andrés out of the country?" His voice had become irrated within seconds.

"Oh, you there... Scroll up!" Gastón urged excitedly. Matteo's brow furrowed further. He didn't like this at all. Still, he did as Perida had told him to and when he saw the picture he wished that he hadn't. Matteo's eyes ignored the headline completely, they were too busy processing the pictures on the right side of the article.

The first picture already looked suspicious. Stella and Andrés stood way too closely together for Matteo's comfort. He could only see the expression his friend’s son wore, which was a goddamn smirk. Matteo felt the blood boil in his veins. Just what did the boy think he was doing? Their faces were only a few inches apart, it wouldn’t take much for them to kiss.

On that note, Matteo would have absolutely no problem drowning Andrés in the Mediterranean Sea if he got wind of anything that included his lips being even in the vicinity of his daughter’s mouth.

"I think he froze," Luna informed Gastón, as Matteo's gaze was still fixed on his phone, as if the photo would dissolve itself if he glared long enough at it. Luna eyed her husband worriedly. He wasn't thinking about murder, was he?

When his eyes reached the next picture Matteo almost let his phone fall. Of course, his thoughts had to be horrifyingly accurate.

The picture immediately let Matteo's protecting instincts run wild. Stella would turn only turn 15 in two days. She shouldn't be kissing anyone. This was too soon! Way too soon! And it hadn't been just a quick kiss. Oh no, any idiot could see that. With his hand on her back this just screamed intimacy.

"I will drown that boy in the Mediterranean Sea," Matteo muttered under his breath. This picture had taken at least twenty years off his life. He had to call Vittorio. Luna’s eyes nervously switched between her husband and the door, debating if she should warn Pedro and Delfi. Gastón had the audacity to laugh. "Gastón, this isn't funny!" she exclaimed desperately.

"Payback," Gastón coughed. Yes, Matteo thought bitterly, Karma truly had done an out-standing job there.

"I mean, he finally knows what he put poor Miguel through," Gastón cackled. Alright, what was enough was enough! Matteo grabbed the telephone from Luna in a swift motion and, without saying another word, ended the call.

Maybe he should just throw it out of the kitchen window. The headlines surely would be hilarious, something along the lines of "Matteo Balsano loses it over daughter's first kiss!". He'd prefer "Andrés Arias missing since yesterday!" though.

Oh, if he just could teleport himself to their friend's house and make that thought reality.

"So, what do we do?" Matteo asked his wife, hoping her answer would include his great-uncle, connecting the telephone with its loading station. "What do you mean? We're not going to do anything," she said, confused by the coldness of Matteo’s voice.

"Luna, you can't be serious! We have to do something," he said exasperated, his voice getting louder with each word, “She isn't even 15 yet! What should we do? Ground her? Take her out of J&R?" Luna's eyes widened at the punishments Matteo had listed. He possibly couldn't mean that. "Are you seriously suggesting that right now?" she asked, crossing her arms, anger finding its way into her voice too. “Yes, I am. I don’t want him near Stella!” He didn't care what it took as long she didn't see that boy anymore. Hell, he'd sent her to Rome if that meant she wouldn't be near him.

"You know, she could have made the first move too," Luna remarked. “Well, there's only way to find out," Matteo then said determined, standing up. His wife quickly followed him. "Matteo, what are doing?"

"Getting -" She got a hold of his arm, stopping him. "No. You're not ruining this for her. Plus, it's a school night, she needs her sleep," Luna reminded him, "We'll talk about this tomorrow, when you're done overreacting." Matteo stared at the door, trying to figure out if this was really worth a fight. "How can you be so calm?" he asked eventually. "No Italian blood," she chuckled. "C'mon, Matteo even you knew this day would come," Luna said, the joking tone gone.

Yes, he had. Still, it didn't make this situation any better. Even when Stella had started talking of a skating partner in a way that had rung alarm bells in his head, he had ignored the sign, hoping the guy wasn't interested. A foolish thought, really, his daughter always got what she wanted.

“We have to ring Tamara tomorrow, surely she can assign Stella a new skating partner,” Matteo started again.

Suddenly, the living room door was being opened, revealing a seething Stella.

"How can you say that? You don't even know what happened!" the teenager accused Matteo. He crossed his arms. This was nothing new. His daughter tended to irrational outbursts when she was angry. "Be glad that we're not transferring you to another skating rink," Matteo told her. "Oh, you can do that,” Stella mirrored her father’s hand gesture, “We can still meet each other in our free time,"

"I don't think so," he said with authority, adding his final blow, "You're grounded 'til you're 18."

"You can't do that," she yelled. “The more you protest the nearer comes an all girl’s school in Italy,” Matteo spoke in Stella’s direction, who had turning towards her mother, "Mom, say something!" Luna looked really uncomfortable. Her husband and daughter had both switched into Italian by now. She didn't like the Italian hot temper they, and Luca to some extent, possessed.

"Matteo, it’s not like he has a bad influence on-"

He truly doubted that. The Arias brat already had a tattoo, but he was sure Stella wasn’t aware of that. “Oh, really-“ Matteo was interrupted by Luna. “Matteo,” she started with his name again, “That’s enough. Look at her!”

He did. Stella’s cheeks were the same colour as her scarf from all the yelling. Wait, why was she still wearing a scarf to bed? Hadn’t she stopped with that last week? Her lower lip trembled and her eyes looked glossy, for a second, he thought she’d would try the crying thing. “I hate you!” she spat out instead, storming off to her room, slamming the door in the process.

“Wow, that went great,” Luna sent Matteo a stern look. He didn’t notice, the words Stella had thrown at him still echoing in his head.

"Matteo," he felt his wife's hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to her, eyes pained with betrayal. "We both know she didn't mean it like that," Luna tried to perform damage control, "She's upset. You know how she is, it'll be all forgotten next week."

"I can't believe she said that," Matteo muttered still in shock. "It wasn't fair of her to use those words," Luna agreed, sighing. "However, what you said wasn't fair either. You two are too much alike for your own good sometimes.”

"Matteo, I know this all a little too much right. How about we leave it at that and go to bed? I'm sure everything will look better tomorrow," Luna suggested when he didn't answer her.

Balsano truly doubted that, but couldn't bring himself to tell his wife that. "You're right," he agreed instead.

Luna noticed her husband's doubtful expression and sighed. Stella was truly growing up. Whether Matteo liked it or not.

#fic: oh no #soy luna next gen #my fanfics #soy luna

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houseofvans · 8 years

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Sketchy Behaviors | Jenny Sharaf (SF)

Never afraid to reinvent herself or her art, San Francisco based artist Jenny Sharaf’s works are fluid and spontaneous; her approach fearless and at times vunerable; and her style cool and comfortably bad-ass. We’ve not only been fans of her visual and abstract creations, but also her passion to work with her community in SF and Oakland to spread art and creativity – from her work with the Lab’s 24-Hour Telethon, The Parking Lot Art Fair to her most recent project- the Public Art Tour. Sharaf shares some insight into her work and process; important issues and themes; and her thoughts on the contemporary arts scene in this installment of Sketchy Behaviors.

Photographs courtesy of the artist

Tell us a bit about yourself and your art background.

My name is Jenny Sharaf and I live with my partner-in-all-things John in San Francisco where we are the parents of an 80lb blue nose pitbull named Lola. Though i live in San Francisco, my wanderlust is at an all time high and if I’m not traveling the world, I’m plotting my next escape.

I grew up in a relatively small beach town in Los Angeles called the Pacific Palisades. Surrounded by salt-licked-waves and girls tanning on smooth beaches, my favorite place growing up was the bluffs; where I could sit above it all and watch it from a distance. I certainly was not your typical California beach babe, but I was wildly inspired by its appeal.

I found myself in San Francisco and went back to school at Mills College to receive my MFA. At Mills my ideas about feminism and California culture collided and my art was heavily influenced because of it.

My life now is a state of constantly making art. Whether it be painting, working on something digital or organizing big public art events in the city, or climbing some construction scaffolding in Paris to smack one of my stickers on the side of a building, I am always finding news ways to reinvent myself and my art.

How did you end up creating art and doing it professionally? And what have you learned along the way?

I’m just doing what I love doing and sometimes people agree to pay me for it. I create new work and new concepts non stop, I contact people that inspire me in hopes of collaborating. Even though I’m afraid at times to be vulnerable, I put myself out there every single day in hopes of new people discovering my art and hopefully falling in love with it. Being an artist can feel very scary, I think maybe I love being scared.

You’ve mentioned “process” as an important aspect of your work. Could you take us through your creative process?

When I’m in the studio or working on a project on site, I always love that intense moment of chance and not having a plan. It takes a serious level of trust in yourself and the materials. Those are the wonderful times that feel one-the-line and frightening, but are always rewarding. In those painting meditative moments, I have no sense of time and space. My best work and most dynamic ideas come out of a period of making and thinking simultaneously.

What important issues and themes do you find yourself and your work drawn too? Why are these important to you and how do they permeate into your works?

Artists are vitally important to our culture, our story and our future. They represent our freedom of speech and expression. The contemporary moment that we are living in feels very historical. Artists are more necessary now than ever and we all should critique the world around us through whatever means possible. As I’m finishing this interview, I’m watching Trump’s first week in office. It doesn’t feel real, but it very much is. This is a call to duty. This is the first president that rose to power on twitter and a tv game show. Currently it’s scary times. I suggest everyone find a great apocalypse outfit.

The colors and abstract drips of your work are some of our favorite things. You recently created a beautiful interior for last year’s Fog Fair and a mural for the Ace Hotel in Palm Springs. How did this come about and how do you approach the design of interiors and exteriors?

Both of these opportunities came through curators & designers following me on instagram. Charles de Lisle and Cultured Magazine invited me to collaborate with them on a “reading room” for the FOG art fair. It was a lot of fun and it was a moment to make something large, inclusive and accessible to an art crowd. For Ace Hotel, their art director at the time; Matt Clark, approached me after seeing an instagram post by artist, Thomas Campbell. The art world is sometimes a really nice place after all! It’s also really wonderful when one project leads to the next.

Whether you’re calling it “placemaking" or whatever new buzz word we’re using, it’s rewarding to create a work of art that people want to include in their own story. I will always love painting on canvas, but it feels much more exciting to do “murals” or large-scale installations, where the audience can insert themselves and interact with the art directly. It’s less egocentric, even though I do always appreciate a @tag :), but mainly just so I can see others enjoying my work!

From painting, murals, videos, installations to paint on paper and digital works, do you have a preferred medium and if so what do you specifically enjoy about it? Is there a medium you’ve have yet to tried and are dying to?

I’m always dying to try new things, new ideas, new materials. I probably have about thirty ideas going in my head at any given moment. As as a preferred medium, I love paint and always have. It’s the most temperamental and if you do the dance, it will talk back in this amazing way. It’s literally fluid (duh), so you have to be a bit go-with-the-flow to fully embrace the stuff. There’s nothing better than a painting session with your headphones blasting and paint just flowing oh-so-naturál. There are a million things I want to try that I haven’t yet. It’s hard to predict where it will go….That’s part of the reason I love being an artist.

What has been some of the best art advice you’ve gotten and some of the worse?

Best art advice– Dream bigger. Don’t be shy. Don’t glass-ceiling-yourself.

Worse art advice– Be practical and realistic.

Not only are you a passionate artist, but you’re really activity in your community with various projects that are focused on community engagement and about promoting the arts. Can you talk specifically about how you founded The Lab’s 24-Hour Telethon and tell us about it and its purpose. What other community based activities are you working on or currently developing?

Throwing big art events in the Bay Area is really important work to me it helps keep the art scene alive for the community and for myself. I was approached to come up with the task to raise money for the The Lab. I grew up on TV and I’ve always been particularly enamored by it because my parents were in the business. They were TV journalists and were always deep diving into the life of some interesting personality. I loved the idea of bringing that to life in a new form and so the The Lab’s 24-Hour Telethon was born. It helped majorly that Cinefamily had been doing a super awesome telethon as well. It was in the zeitgeist. San Francisco needed a version. It ended up being a big success that I am extremely proud of. Since then, I’ve done projects with San Francisco’s Department of Public Works that involves giving new life to public places by highlighting our local contemporary artists.

Most recently, I’m working on a program called Public Art Tour. It’s going to be an online experience and a series of big public events, bringing attention to local artists and San Francisco’s downtown public art. We are scheduled to do a massive party under the Bay Bridge, closing down the Spear Street’s cul-de-sac and making some legally permitted-noise;) Maybe Vans wants to set up a skate ramp? Call me.

The Parking Lot Art Fair that you founded in the Bay Area sounds like a super fun and exciting get-together. How would you describe this event to folks? What has been the best aspect of this for you?

It was a blast. Basically, The Parking Lot Art Fair was a renegade art fair outside of a “legit” art fair at Fort Mason (in San Francisco). All the artists set up very very early morning, as soon as the parking was free and permitted. At that point, the chaos began. The best part was being able to see the Bay Area art scene spread out in oceanside parking lot and realizing how much talent and weirdness this place still has left. San Francisco and Oakland have had many growing pains in the last few years and because of it the art scene has also foregone many changes. In terms of housing costs (studio space, etc) a big portion of our community has had to leave. So to be able to celebrate a more fringe art scene feels insanely gratifying.

How would you describe your personal style? Favorite Vans?

My personal style is all over the place. I like to be comfortable. When I’m not in my painting white or navy onesies and painted Vans (raw canvas pair I’ve probably had for 10 years), I love to play with fashion and try on different looks. Right now my look is very Gloria Steinem plus a sixties-Italian-cyclist inspired; ripped black jeans, my boyfriend’s cashmere sweater and a fringe black suede jacket. I always wear sunglasses - my look never feels complete without them.

My favorite vans are the classic black and white checkered low tops. They always look effortless. OR the high top surfer-girl-chic sneaks.

Name 5 of your favorite artists, followed by some of your top 5 favorite bands / musicians to create too.

Artists: Helen Frankenthaler, Joan Mitchell, John Baldessari, Joan Brown, Alicia McCarthy

Music: Paul Simon, alt-J, Jungle, Ace of Base,Haim

What are your thoughts on the state of contemporary art? The good, the bad, and the ugly.

The good - the art world is accessible than ever because of social media and the internet. You can basically get anyone to see you work these days, which is a big change from ten years ago.

The bad - there’s still a lot of old white guys that seem undeserving of shows, but they know people and they already have money to create massive bigger-the-better machismo art.

The ugly - the art world is huge, and can be incredibly hard to navigate and can be mean. We should all work harder to be nice to each other, especially about something as special as art.

You’ve worked with various clients and done many collaborations. What have been some of the most rewarding projects? What do you like best about collaborations and what are some of the aspect you’d like to see changed or evolved if any?

I love collaborating with cool brands. Working with the Ace Hotel is always awesome. Such great people and a company that really gets the creative experience. I just worked with this handbag line Luana Italy. They really let me do whatever I wanted and honored my voice as an artist, which I always greatly appreciated. I think big brands are finally embracing and empowering the artist's’ voice– allowing the space it takes to achieve that.

What would you tell folks who want to follow in your footsteps? Pitfalls to avoid and/or words of inspiration.

I’d say, don’t follow in anyone’s footsteps. That’s always something to remind yourself. Make your own path and listen to your own visual / conceptual impulses.There is absolutely no rule book or how-to guide to being an artist. It looks different for everyone. I by no means have figured it out, but I do try to practice trusting the inner voice and taking risks.

Lastly, what’s up for 2017? Any exciting projects you can let us in on?

For 2017, I plan on working hard, painting like a madwoman and traveling. I’m doing some fun projects with B&O Play by Bang and Olufsen as a cultural ambassador- public art events, listening parties, contemporary art experiences. Also, I’m curating a weekend at Ace Hotel and Swim Club Palm Springs on March 18th called “What’s Your Name / Who’s Your Daddy” featuring Sahar Khoury, Alicia McCarthy, Francesco Igory Deiana and Jess Meyer. Also, planning some mural projects overseas, but it’s too early to talk about. Don’t want to jinx it! Follow me on instagram to keep up with it all:)

Website | Instagram | Public Art Tour

#vans #vans art #vans girls #jenny sharaf #painting #sf artist #mural #arts

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republicstandard · 6 years

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Britain won’t Outlaw Caste-Based Racism Because it Might Offend Hindus

When I immigrated to Britain, I thought I had finally left behind the hyper-racism of India’s caste system. I was wrong. A few years ago, after I’d given a lecture on Hinduism at a training course in the Diocese of Southwark, a schoolteacher came up and in a hushed conspiratorial tone whispered a horror story in my ears.

A 7-year-old boy of Indian origin raised his hand in class and said to her: “Miss, I don’t want to sit next to Hema.” When she asked him why he told her in front of the whole class: “Hema is a low caste girl. I am a Brahmin. My parents told me not to sit with her or make friends with her.” This was London, not Lucknow. Can you imagine the outrage if a 7-year-old white boy had said that he did not want to sit next to Lola, because Lola is black?

Suddenly, the sewage from the ugly unsanitary world of the hyper-racist Indian caste system began seeping out from the gutter of British multiculturalism that was so open – it rejected nothing and welcomed even the worst – especially if the social and cultural detritus was imported by minority ethnic or religious groups as part of their heritage. After all, who are we to judge?

Last week, The Hindu, an illustrious Indian newspaper, exposed Theresa May’s government for quietly shelving plans to recognize the caste as a form of racism in Britain’s anti-discrimination legislation. Britain’s Equality and Human Rights Commission attacked the government for ducking the highly contentious issue of caste and pointed out that the government’s actions were “inconsistent with the U.K.’s international obligations to provide for separate and distinct protection for caste in our legislation”.

But Penny Mordaunt, Minister for Women and Equalities (a non-job invented for Harriet Harman under the Labour government), doesn’t want to rock the Hindu boat. She finds caste discrimination “unacceptable” but argues that the Equality Act protects against it.

Here’s what is really sticking in her craw. The Equality Act (2010) under the section on “Protected Characteristics” lists the usual categories of victimhood like age, race, religion, sex, sexual orientation, etc., but is supremely coy when categorizing “caste” under the category of “race”.

Using Sir Humphrey Appleby circumlocution and mind-numbing bureaucratese, it provides for a Minister of the Crown to “amend this section so as to provide for caste to be an aspect of race” or “amend this Act so as to provide for an exception to a provision of this Act to apply, or not to apply, to caste or to apply, or not to apply, to caste in specified circumstances”.

But like Basil Fawlty in Fawlty Towers shouting, “Don’t mention the war,” Penny Mordaunt and the Equalities Act are desperately shushing the controversy and pleading, “Don’t equate casteism with racism.”

Goodness, gracious me, didn’t you know only white people can be racist, not Indians? Where will it all end if we upend the hierarchy of intersectionality by taking down the white cisgender male a peg or two and slotting the high-caste Hindu Brahmin on the same level? How shall we drown ourselves in the oceans of white guilt created by our liberal tears?

Racism has got to be the exclusive privilege of the Western white male, hasn’t it? We can’t share this fashionable entitlement with caste-conscious Indians who oppress everyone from the top to the bottom of the caste ladder, can we? Isn’t this what progressive Penny Mordaunts are telling us?

Under the Equality Act, “race” includes “colour, nationality and ethnic or national origins”. Supporters of the caste system argue that the caste system is not racist because it is not based on color, nationality or ethnicity. They are both right and wrong. The caste system is based on Hinduism’s religious hierarchy of human beings. Louis Dumont thus astutely named his classic work on this stratification Homo Hierarchicus: The Caste System and its Implications.

In a hymn from the Purusasukta of the Rig Veda, a foundational Hindu scripture, there are four main categories or varnas of Hindu society – varna means colour as well as class. The highest caste of Brahmin (priest) is born from mouth of the Supreme Deity Brahman, the Kshatriya (warrior) comes next being born from the deity’s arm, the Vaishya (businessman or trader) comes from the god’s stomach, and the Shudra (menial or servant) from the foot of the Creator.

The untouchable or Dalit is the unborn emerging from outside the body of the Creator, with no physical link to the Supreme Being and almost a different species, like an animal. The Manusmriti, another Hindu scripture, describes the untouchable as “polluted” and “unclean” from birth. He violates, by his very existence, the Brahmanical obsession with hygiene and is perpetually filthy, according to Dumont.

The religious texts assign different skin colors to the different castes: Brahmins are white, Kshatriyas are red, Vaishyas are yellow and the Shudras are black, according to the erudite Vedic Brahmin, Bhrigu, in the Mahabharata, Hinduism’s most famous epic. The colours are based on the predominance of a quality or virtue (guna) in their nature (prakrti).

Komar Dhillon in a PhD dissertation subtitled “Pigmentocracy in India” describes how skin colour is intrinsic to Indian racism. “Benefits for those on the lighter end of the skin color spectrum are recognized and leveraged in accordance with the systemic logic of being naturally superior. Conversely, often those on the darker end of the spectrum are perceived as inferior (by others as well as themselves), thus perpetuating the superiority of whiteness,” Dhillon writes.

Scientists of the National Institute of Biomedical Genomics have demonstrated that caste distinctions go back to 70 generations of social differentiation based on genetic lines. Hence caste has a genetic, rather than merely a social or occupational basis, and as such is fundamentally racist in origin, they conclude.

All this is incontrovertible evidence that the caste system is not only racist in terms of discrimination on the basis of pigmentation; it is worse than racist. The caste system is Racism Plus because the discrimination is inextricably intertwined with religion and into the binary division of pure and polluted.

So endemic is the caste system that a number of Indian Christians, Muslims and Buddhists, all belonging to egalitarian religions, succumb to its toxic temptations. I have often pointed out that Christians who support the caste system are doing so in defiance of fundamental biblical teaching in Genesis; where God creates all human beings in his image and likeness, unlike the Hindu doctrine of different castes emerging from different parts of the body of the Supreme Being.

India is the most racist country in the world as the caste system is the longest running system of discrimination anywhere in the world and has been going strong for three millennia. So degrading is the discrimination that upper caste people continue to force untouchables into manual scavenging; the stomach-churning practice of cleaning human excrement from dry toilets by loading it into cane baskets and carrying it away on their heads for disposal, although the system has been outlawed in India.

So what happens when Indians who are deeply entrenched in the caste system cross the ocean and settle down in our green and pleasant land? Do they jettison the age-old practice of Indian hyper-racism and embrace our values of equality and human rights?

In 2015, an employment tribunal ruled in favor of Permila Tirkey, who was forced to work 18-hour days and paid 11 pence an hour because she was from a lower caste. Her employers, Pooja and Ajay Chandhok, kept her enslaved in their home in Milton Keynes for four and a half years. They prevented her from bringing her Bible from India to Britain and from going to church.

The victim’s barrister, Mr Milsom, of Cloisters, said “The government’s original rationale for refusing explicit prohibition of caste-based discrimination was that there was no evidence of it taking place in the UK”. He added that the tribunal’s “damning findings” had left the government’s stance on caste discrimination “untenable”.

The report No Escape: Caste Discrimination in the UK (2006) concluded that 85% of the respondents felt that Indians in the UK actively practise and participate in the caste system. The former Mayor of Coventry, Ram Lakha, faced intense discrimination from upper castes when he stood for election in a largely Indian ward. “During campaigning I was often told that I would not get people’s vote as I was a chamar (one of the untouchable castes). So I filed my nomination in a non-Asian constituency and was able to win. The Indian community in Coventry always felicitates every new Mayor, however, till today they have not done this for me,” he said.

Most participants asserted that Hindu temples in Britain were not open to persons of all castes, with 80% claiming that each temple in the UK only allowed a specific group of people, based on caste, to worship there and that “temples were classified on caste lines.”[18] The reported documented a number of cases of caste discrimination in employment and even in the National Health Service.

Last year, the London School of Economics cancelled a talk by Dr Meena Dhanda from the University of Wolverhampton because her subject on “the challenge of confronting caste-based oppression” was too hot to handle.

But Britain’s Women and Equalities Minister Penny Mordaunt is so politically correct that she won’t mention caste and racism in the same sentence because it might offend Hindus. The Tory government also fears that, “enshrining caste in British law”, could affect Theresa May’s attempts to forge trade relationships with Commonwealth countries, namely India.

Contrast the stance of the present Conservative government with that the British colonial administration in India. Sagarika Ghose underlines the pivotal role of white Western missionaries in destabilizing the caste system under the British Raj. “It would be accurate to say that caste, as a conceptual category, was seriously challenged only after the arrival of the Christian missionaries, who initiated the radical idea of extending education to the Dalits,” she writes.

“The first special schools for untouchables were opened in the 1840s, encouraged not only by the missionaries but also by the British administration,” she notes. Ghose cites a Dalit writer who wrote that “as far as the Dalits are concerned, ‘the British arrived too late and left too early’, a reference to the fact that had it not been for the British colonial administration, Dalits would have never gained the right to attend school.” Ghose acknowledges the contribution of Hindu reformers like Jotirao Phule (1827-90) who “used Christian missionary arguments to ‘reject the fictitious world of Hindu religion.’”

“It is somewhat ironic that the religion most correlated with whiteness would be the catalyst for enacting social change in the realm of education amongst the racialized Dalits,” observes Dhillon in her treatise on Pigmentocracy in India. It is even more ironic that the country that was the catalyst for enacting social change in the realm of education and social policy when it ruled India is now not only importing the caste system from India, but also conserving it for posterity under the banner of the Conservative Party.

from Republic Standard | Conservative Thought & Culture Magazine https://ift.tt/2LVu6Vf via IFTTT

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itscooltobefanficy · 7 years

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Feeling Alive- Part 3

Summary: Dance school!AU (or the Step Up/Pride and Prejudice mash up nobody asked for). Bucky Barnes is forced to take twelve hours of commercial dance classes to pass the year- and that just happens to be your regular weekly dance class.

Introduction

Part 1 (Slow Hands)

Part 2 (Stay)

There Will Come a Time

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Chapter 4/?: There Will Come a Time

Word count: 3094

You guys. You’re just amazing. So many of you are sticking around and reading and hopefully enjoying and slkfjlaksjdf I’m just blown away. I’m aiming to finish this by the first of August! That’s doable, right? I feel like I should have mentioned this earlier, but if I were tagging this on AO3 it would be ‘SLOW BURN’. Idk how you all feel about that. But @systemfailuresunshine seems to be enjoying the pain ;) Anyway go forth and read my lovelies! (Feel free to drop me messages/asks or whatever)

The familiar, discordant chimes of your alarm shrill in your ears and you fumble for your phone without even opening your eyes.

“Shut up,” You grumble, as the smooth edges slip out of your fingertips for the third time. “Just, ugh, shush.”

Reluctantly, you crack open one eye and finally manage to stab down on the glowing screen. Silence at last. Unfortunately, you know you can’t roll over and go back to sleep: not unless you want to be late for work. You let out another heartfelt groan and force your eyes all the way open.

The screen of your phone is still lit up, showing two message notifications. You frown and swipe them open. One from your mum, asking when she can call- you quickly type out a reply suggesting this afternoon- and one from a number you don’t recognise.

Steve says that if you don’t reply by 12 we’re breaking down the door

Everything suddenly comes rushing back. Instinctively, you drop your phone on the covers and reach for the back of your head, wincing when your fingertips encounter a sizeable lump. Wriggling your shoulders merits the same reaction, and moving your legs sends a twinge through your hips. General conclusion: ouch. Still, not dead.

“Always a positive,” A dry voice rings through your memories, and you almost smile. Then you reach for your phone again.

No need to call in the cavalry, I’m up

Writing it out is kind of a contractual obligation; you hit send, then struggle out from underneath the duvet and drag yourself into the bathroom.

Thankfully, the warmth of the shower spray (unpredictable and wavering as it is) helps soothe your angry muscles, and you dress feeling fairly awake. Then you have to dash out of the bathroom to silence the second alarm that you always set, intended to either jerk you out of a sneaky second snooze, or warn you that you have half an hour before you need to leave the house. To your surprise, another two messages have come through whilst you were turning yourself into a human being. One from mum, confirming your time, and another one from James.

That’s a relief I don’t have the energy to be a battering ram

A slight pulse of warmth seems to flare deep inside your chest. You quickly save his number to your contacts before tapping out a reply.

Y: Who has the energy to do anything this early in the morning?

Which is a good point. You need caffeine. And breakfast. And then you need to get a move on. Your phone buzzes as you click the switch on the kettle.

J: Steve

Even as you read that message, another comes through.

J: He’s a morning person its awful

You can picture that: a small smile curls at the corner of your mouth.

Y: I’m truly sorry for you

The next text doesn’t come through until you’re almost out of the door.

J: Sympathy is appreciated

J: Its like living with a puppy half the time

Again, that warm feeling: but you have somewhere to be.

Y: As someone who lives alone, that actually sounds nice

Y: But I have to get to work

You hesitate, stuck on whether you should type what you really want to say- but before you can decide, James has replied.

J: Have fun

J: Talk to you when I’m out of class

At that tiny handful of words, your heart seems to rise a few inches in your ribcage. You shut the door, still smiling, and stride off to the bus stop.

“You’re looking happy,” Lola comments, the instant you walk through the door. Busted. You sigh and wonder if it’s feasible to keep deflecting questions until the end of the day- but Lola is nothing if not persistent. She’s also one of your best work friends. You raise your hands in defeat and drop into your office chair.

“Don’t get too excited,” You say, in a warning tone, “But, newsflash-” You try to imbue the word with a healthy amount of sarcasm, “-There’s a cute guy who’s started Wednesday classes.”

Lola’s eyes light up. She drops her chin onto her hand and fixes you with a look of keen interest.

“Do tell!”

“Ugh,” You wave her away, laughing, “I only met him last week. And I didn’t even like him then.”

“But you like him now?!” Lola wiggles her eyebrows at you again, and you can’t help but giggle even more.

“Stop! But yes, he’s apparently not as much of a jerk as I thought he was.”

“Wonderful.” Lola’s smug grin is practically taking up all of her face. “So, when’s your first date?”

You gawp at her. “Lola, I met him last week. It’s more that…” You trail off, before making sure your tone is sufficiently casual, “It’s more that he’s texting back.”

Lola nods in sympathy. You’ve both had your fair share of non-starting relationships.

“Still, that’s a good start!” She claps her hands together. “I’ll expect every detail.”

You roll your eyes. “As if I could avoid it.” From behind you, your computer (ancient, slow thing that it is) finally makes the chime that signifies you’ve logged in and you spin your chair to face the screen. You already have four emails from four different professors, all asking after different books. You sigh and drag your mind back into focus. Today, at least, there won’t be time for daydreaming.

That evening, you let yourself back into your flat with your phone still held up to your ear as your mum hangs up. Your conversation had been the usual: the run-down on work, whether you were eating, whether you were being a sufficiently sociable human being. Seeing as you could confidently answer all those questions with yes, it was just a pleasant chat rather than an uncomfortable interrogation. Honestly, it’s worth making an effort with life in general just for that.

You drop your possessions on the ratty bean bag on the corner and head for the fridge. You’re starving: thankfully, you have the last of the soup you made last week stashed away. Just as you’re decanting it from Tupperware to saucepan, your phone buzzes.

J: Good day?

You chew on your bottom lip, fighting yet another smile. This was past the point of ridiculous. Nevertheless, you balance your phone in one hand whilst stirring a wooden spoon with the other.

Y: I’ve had worse

Y: You?

No more than a handful of seconds pass before you get a reply.

J: I’ve had worse

J: Faosedddlks

Before you can even form a confused frown, your screen lights up with an incoming call. From James. You stifle the lurch in your abdomen, before tapping accept and lifting the phone to your cheek. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N!”

“Oh. Steve?” You can feel your eyebrows drawing together. “Isn’t this James’ phone?”

“Yes!” An abrupt yell echoes down the line; it sounds a lot like James.

“Yeah,” Steve says, sounding unconcerned, “Just wanted to let you know that we’re having a film night on Saturday- us, Nat and Sam, maybe a couple of other people, and we were wondering if you wanted to join?”

“Uh,” You stall for a moment, surprised by the offer, then pull yourself together. “Sure, why not? Do I need to bring anything?”

“What? No! No, not unless you want to.”

“OK. Steve, sorry-” You carefully place the spoon on the side and try to turn off the hob one-handed, “-can I put you on loudspeaker? My soup’s just ready-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. See you on Saturday, Y/N!” There’s a scuffling noise, then the line goes dead. You quickly drop it on the counter and turn your attention to the saucepan.

J: Sorry about that

J: Steve has a loose definition of personal space

You get the text just as you sit down to eat.

Y: No worries

Y: I have a few friends like that

Lola, for one. Wanda, for another. Clint, come to think of it, for a third. Then a question occurs to you, and you type out a new message.

Y: What time is it on Sat?

The reply is nearly instantaneous.

J: Steve says 7

You ignore the twisting excitement already building in your stomach.

Y: I’ll be there

It’s Saturday evening, and you’re stood on the pavement two streets along from your flat staring up at an imposing red-brick building. The Academy is situated in the rows of old, classy town-houses tucked behind ornate railings at the end of Blackhill Road. Craning your neck, you can see warm yellow light spilling from a window on the second-storey. The faint sound of piano music is just audible.

The door at the top of the steps swings open.

“Hey, Y/N!” Nat smiles at you. She’s dressed in leggings and an oversized sweater with the word Boss printed in capital letters on the front. “Come in!”

You climb up to join her. The door closes behind you and you take in what must be the reception. There’s a shiny wooden desk in the corner, a handful of chairs against one wall, and framed photographs of dancers caught in graceful motion are everywhere you look. Nat, evidently inured to the sight, pays no attention to your gawping and marches to a discreet door tucked in the corner, marked ‘Private’.

“You coming?”

Blinking, you shake yourself out of your reverie and follow her into a narrow passage.

“Used to be the servants’ stairs. Watch your step, they’re pretty steep.”

The only light comes from a dingy bulb on an upper landing, and you take Nat’s advice, treading carefully behind her. “This is fancier than I thought,” You say. “I thought it would be like- like a school, I guess.”

“Oh, the studios aren’t so nice,” Nat says, airily, “But they’re an extension out the back of the house. All the live-in students get rooms in here, though. Makes up for the terrible heating and creaky floorboards.”

“My flat just has the heating and the floorboards,” You joke, and Nat laughs.

“Unfortunately the biggest room is the attic, so you always have a climb to get to the common room.”

“Yeah,” You exaggerate the way your breath is wheezing, “I’d noticed.”

“Fury’s always telling us it’s good for our stamina.”

“Well, the civilians could do with a lift,” You joke. Eventually, though, you manage to make it to the top of the stairs (and, to your credit, you don’t need to lean against the wall to recover. Just). Nat pushes open yet another door, and noise and soft light spills out into the stairwell.

“Look who I found,” She calls, and you step through into what must be the Academy’s student common room.

The room is long and low-ceilinged, with multiple skylights set behind the beams letting in the last of the evening sunshine. Golden fairy-lights are strung up on every surface, emitting a gentle glow. On your left is a tiny counter, with a microwave, kettle and toaster ranged beneath a rack of chipped mugs. On your right are a set of speakers and a book shelf. A small TV is set on a table at the far end of the room, surrounded by a collection of battered chairs, beanbags and one low couch: and ranged around it are James, Steve, Sam, and several people you don’t recognise.

“Y/N! You made it up the stairs!” Steve waves at you, and you grin.

“Yeah, you certainly made me work hard enough to get here.” You follow Nat down the room towards them. You try not to let your eyes linger on James, although it’s hard when he’s tilted his head to look at you, his hair mussed on one side from where he’s been leaning against the back of the armchair.

“Nice of you to drop in,” Sam grins. He’s sprawled on one end of the couch. It’s a slightly strange experience to see them all in casual clothes: somehow, you’ve never pictured them wearing something as relaxed as a hoody, but it is so. James raises a hand and gives you that crooked smile.

“Good to see you.”

You barely have time to smile in return before Steve is half-rising from his seat to introduce you to everyone else.

“So, this is Holly, Sef, Simren and Charlie. We have classes together.”

There are a chorus of greetings, and you nod in return, mentally trying to hold onto their names.

“Shove up, you three,” Nat demands, marching round and dropping onto the cushions. “Somebody else can put the film on.” You carefully squeeze in beside her as Charlie, a lanky Asian guy, scrambles to his feet and shoves a DVD into the slot. James had told you on Friday that they were part-way through a Harry Potter marathon, and you relax as the familiar music soars out from the TV. A handful of people are already singing along. You sneak a glance at James, and see that his mouth is twitching. The thought makes you smile, and you turn your attention back to the film.

Before you know it, the end credits are rolling: Harry’s killed the basilisk and saved the day, to an off-screen accompaniment of quotes, snarky observations and general humour. You’re glad you didn’t put on any mascara- several times you’ve laughed so hard there have been tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.

When the screen finally goes dark, you shift in your seat and carefully stretch. Whilst you’ve been watching, the sky outside has darkened. Sef gets to her feet and starts pulling down the blinds.

“Thanks for having me,” You say, to nobody in particular, sitting up.

“It was fun!”

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You smile across at Holly and Simren. “You, too.”

Steve jumps to his feet and offers you a hand up. “Before you even start complaining, we’re walking you home.” At your thunderous frown, he assumes a pleading expression. “It’s dark!”

“There could be robbers,” Nat interjects, and you turn to glare at her, too.

“Don��t gang up on me.”

She just smirks up at you.

“Fine,” You sigh, “Who else is joining my bodyguard detail?”

“I’ll come.” James shrugs his way out of his chair and stretches all the way out, his hands grazing the ceiling. You try not to react.

“Anyone else coming for a walk?” Steve asks. Sam shakes his head.

“Nah, man. I’m keeping the corner spot for as long as I’ve got it.”

Nat’s already elongating to take up the space you and Steve have vacated. Steve snorts at her. “Guess that answers that question. Right, let’s go.”

The three of you walk back across the common room and start down the stairs.

“So are you up for joining us on the regular?” Steve asks. “It’s nice to see people who don’t also live with you every once in a while.”

“Ah,” You snicker, “I’m only here for the window dressing, I see how it is. But sorry, next week…” You trail off into thought.

“Next week?” James prompts.

“Sorry- it’s just that I was planning to have a night in with Wanda and Pepper, but- I don’t want to presume on your hospitality or anything-”

“They’re welcome!” Steve says, instantly, “More the merrier, right, Buck?”

“Sure,” James says. “Nice to have some new faces.”

“I’ll just check with them, but I’m sure they’ll be down.” You make a mental note to text them both later. You’ve finally reached the bottom of the stairs and push through the door, before drawing up short: two people are stood in the reception, and they both seem to practically radiate authority.

“Rogers. Barnes.” The imposing dark-skinned man addresses your companions. “Heading out?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve answers. “Just walking Y/N home.”

“Be sure to sign out,” The woman standing beside him warns. Steve seems to straighten up.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A small smile touches the brunette’s lips.

“Just Miss Carter, Rogers.”

“Sure, Miss Carter,” James interjects, politely. “We’ll just sign out.” He pats Steve on the shoulder before retrieving a register from the far side of the desk and scribbling down their names. Miss Carter and her companion disappear through the double doors at the back of the room, and you notice Steve relaxing. It’s not until the three of you are safely out on the street that you ask your question.

“Who was that?”

“That’s Director Fury. He runs the Academy. And Miss Carter, who takes the Advanced Ballet Class.”

“Oh. Oh.” You glance at Steve, your brain putting two and two together. “They’re- um, kind of scary?”

James snorts. “You’re not kidding. Although Mr T is worse.”

“He’s our teacher,” Steve tells you, apparently recovering his voice. “And yeah, he kind of is.”

“Why?” You can’t help a note of teasing sliding into your voice. “Is he a tyrant?”

“Oh, worse than that,” James smirks, “He’s perfect. So, he expects nothing less from us, too.”

You shudder theatrically. “He sounds like Wanda.”

“Is she really that bad?” James sounds sceptical.

“Yes! Just you wait until we’re in the run up to a competition. She’s terrifying, trust me.”

“We’ll take your word for it.” You feel like Steve is just humouring you, but they’ll see. Wanda takes absolutely no prisoners.

“Have you both been practicing?” You ask, as the three of you cross over the road to enter your street.

Steve snorts. “We have to take it in turns. There’s not enough floor-space in our dorm for us both to dance at the same time.”

“So you admit that commercial dance has some worth, then?” You instantly seize your opportunity, grinning broadly at James’ exasperated expression.

“You know, I think that dance hipster comment really stung his pride, Y/N-” Steve starts, right before James pushes him off the curb.

“Good,” You say, smugly, “If it turns him from a hipster into a nerd, I’ll be satisfied.”

“Now I get why you invited her,” James growls, “So that you have someone to gang up on me with.”

“Glad to be of service.” You stick out your tongue at him as Steve laughs. “And thank you, once again, for your assistance-” You’ve reached your flat, “- And I’ll see you both on Wednesday?”

“See you, kid!” Steve calls, now leaping around trying to dodge James’ attempts to pull him into a headlock. Laughing, you wave at the pair of them, before hopping into the porch and unlocking the door, their shouts and curses ringing in your ears.

AN: Tagging continues rampant. If you liked a couple of the previous parts, I’ve tagged you. Drop me a line if it’s no longer your thing and I’ll remove you :) Chapter ten is now complete ( @systemfailuresunshine was shrieking at me, just to give you a taste of what’s to come) so I’ll keep on posting at a frankly reckless rate. Thank you darlings for your engagement so far <3

Tag list: @plumsforbuck2016; @learisa; @themarvelousmaximoffs; @blonde0n; @debzybrazy; @vintagesaph; @casdoesntunderstandthatreference; @imthemishamigo; @smaug-the-homedog; @seb-styles; @madeofstarsdust; @buckybabybaby

Part 4

#bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #I wrote a thing #Feeling Alive #Feeling Alive Part Three #Bucky rly doesn't have time for appropriate punctuation #Also I have Brit mannerisms #If that's going to annoy you then *shrug*

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