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dankusner · 5 months ago

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REAL ESTATE

Investor’s vision to reinvigorate Brentwood

He wants to offer mid-priced housing near transit, commercial hubs

Despite a recent trim, downpours encouraged thick and thorny underbrush filled with smilax and hedge parsley to persist.

But there was something that Paul Carden had on his mind that kept him trudging through the overgrown, scratchy weeds in the tucked-away pocket of Brentwood on a humid June afternoon.

He’d navigated to the dead end of Ridge Street, which gave way to a gravel road before the short walk began.

“This is my ace,” said Carden, the moment a break in the canopy of oaks, pecans and chinaberries gave way to the Dallas skyline.

The view over the gaping bluff was as unexpected as it was breathtaking.

Carden has assembled nearly 10 acres in the pocket-sized Brentwood community within Oak Cliff, east of the Dallas Zoo and south of the Tenth Street Historic District.

It marks one of the oldest sections of the area, dating back to the late 19th century.

‘Keep pushing’

His vision for the holdings is simple: Offer mid-priced housing while creating a destination anchored by thoughtful commercial projects and near existing transportation hubs that future development will gravitate toward.

Carden was raised in Oak Cliff and has spent his career working in retail real estate after earning a degree in finance.

It’s a direction he took as he listened to a common refrain growing up.

“I kept hearing, ‘Could someone else go and solve this issue? Could someone else go and do this?’ And I thought, I’m just going to do it myself, keep going and keep pushing,” said Carden.

He began purchasing his first lots in Brentwood in 2016, believing someone else might see the potential and want to go in alongside him to build in the area.

About two years ago, he realized no one else was coming. He started buying again.

“I thought, if I have a good idea and I try to do the right thing, I’m pretty sure people are going to work with me. So far, that has been the case,” said Carden, who started bringing in outside equity that buys into his vision about a year and a half ago.

The lots Carden acquired with downtown views are reserved for dwellings.

He controls prime swaths that dead-end into one another that will share in the panoramas.

It’s meaningful in that he can create a walkable, transit-oriented community and never worry about a street suddenly becoming an unpleasant and busy cut-through.

Transit, lush spaces

Closer to the zoo and the under-construction Southern Gateway Park are more potential sites for dwellings and projects that could house retail.

Carden is also a minority investor in the EastDock adaptive-reuse project, which Proxy Properties LLC is aiming to position as a mixed-use development.

He previously worked with the firm on the zoning for its Oak Cliff Assembly project that stands within Brentwood, as well.

Design for Carden’s planned homesteads will take cues from Swedish cabin-style architecture.

Six-foot-wide sidewalks and lush landscaping will permeate the publicly accessible mixed-use spaces he plans.

All of the acquisitions from Brentwood Carden Equities capitalize on the notion that there is inertia from not only the Dallas Zoo, but the completion of the new deck park moving south of Interstate 35 East.

It also leans into a feature that is unique to just a few neighborhoods outside of Brentwood in a spread-out city like Dallas.

It has access to three DART stops a little more than 10 football fields apart from one another.

Carden potentially plans to put retail on his lots that fall between the zoo and deck park and the ample public transportation in an area that currently lacks such resources.

Carden points to the over 90 acres of the RedBird revitalization when he thinks of a project hyper-focused on a particular area like his.

In the case of his 10-odd acres in Brentwood, the footprint is smaller.

With that comes the need for intention per Carden’s philosophy to create an ecosystem of projects that are interrelated and support each other, even if they’re not necessarily next door.

“Every project should ultimately further the mission of bringing economic opportunity to the community in collaboration with it,” he said.

Carden, who self-funded his initial acquisitions, is not seeking nonprofit or not-for-profit backing to get his projects off the ground.

“Part of respecting the potential of the community is demonstrating that not only can you do the right thing, but you can do the right thing profitably,” said Carden.

Missing piece

His process includes conversations with neighbors around the sites he’s acquired.

Beyond building advocates, Carden wants to ensure he’s asking people that live in Brentwood what they want to see in their own neighborhood, whether that’s for commercial or residential development.

He’s eyeing a unit or two with an elevator among his future multifamily development at what he’s dubbed the “Grant Trio,” a collection of three lots positioned along Grant Street.

He’d heard from a neighbor that they desired a place where an older parent could be accommodated, and he listened.

He’ll also consider small, fenced-in yards for pets per another suggestion.

Another key push for Carden is working to address housing’s missing middle.

“We see chain reactions where people can’t afford to stay close to somewhere like Bishop Arts because there isn’t a variety of housing prices and types. They move closer to Uptown or somewhere else because there is variety,” said Carden.

“Then you start liking the neighborhood, like being closer to work and, lo and behold, you start having a brain drain because it turns out people don’t want to commute further than necessary.”

More options

He believes the same migration also occurs when workers receive raises and no longer qualify for area median family income programs, whether those be Amazon employees or teachers.

“Not having a variety of housing options is essentially encouraging displacement, and a lot of my housing works to correct that,” said Carden.

While Carden acknowledges interest rates are a challenge, his good fortune has come from having investors who are patient and understand the mission behind the deals, he said.

Plus, most of his deals are all equity, which removes a lot of strain.

“Right now, we have time for the interest rate side of things to sort itself out because I need to make these zoning changes anyways,” said Carden.

“I have some wiggle room to work with in terms of getting things right.”

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redorich · 4 years ago

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What if Tommy and a few other Hermits went to the Dream SMP to take care of some business (aka Dreamon + small family reunion for Tommy) and they see Tommy hug these two PvP gods as a ghost floats around them saying, “oh Tommy! You’ve been gone so long! Where did you go?” And seeming quite happy as well. The hermits get to see just how fucked this place is. Tommy told them Techno is by far the richest person on the server yet he only has one stack of diamond blocks. Not a single shulker box to be seen. Phil tells them The End is Off Limits. They get to see the main hub of this world is less impressive than a single of their big builds. They see fighting in the streets. From the other side of walls they hear people threatening eachother. They get to see and experience the comparative hell that Tommy cane from -🐍

Scar’s the one that gets to go first. He and Grian jockey for the privilege, but in the end Scar is the mayor of Hermitcraft, which means he gets to visit the Dream SMP first. (Grian pouts for days.)

Scar wears his very nice mayor sash, and irons his trousers, and keeps his armor in his inventory so that everyone can see his nice apparel. He smiles, and opens his eyes to what is basically a pit. The ground is more creeper-hole than actual ground, and there are mishmash walls all around him. His smile falters.

<Dream> Oh shit hes at spawn

<Technoblade> dream forgot to change visitor spawn, worst admin ever

<Dream> Shut up

Tubbo hit the ground too hard

<Technoblade> TUBBO IS GONE CRABRAVE

<ItsFundy> canon death

<Tubbo> NO

“Hey there,” Tubbo says from behind Scar. The mayor yelps, whirling around and nearly falling on his face.

“Sorry to scare you,” Tubbo laughs, “but how about I show you around? After I get my stuff back, that is.”

“Y-yeah,” Scar says, visibly perturbed. Tubbo leads him through a hole in the wall just large enough for them to go through one at a time, then through a small patch of forest. (Do these people seriously not even have a way out of spawn, or a path from spawn to the important locations?)

Dream catches up to Tubbo and Scar right as the town comes into view. They meet up at a patch of ruined land, on which two identical Nether portals are sat.

“Welcome to the Dream SMP,” Dream says with a gesture toward the slightly-broken oak slab path stretching out from the portal. “Sorry I’m late, I had to take care of some business.”

“Business?” Scar asks despite himself.

Dream fidgets with the handle of his axe sheepishly. “Yeah. I sent some of the troublemakers on a wild goose chase several thousand blocks away from here. Hopefully, they shouldn’t bother you.”

“That’s great and all, but I kind of need to get my stuff back,” Tubbo cuts in before Scar has a chance to question Dream.

“Sure, it was near Tommy’s old house, right? Why not show Scar the Prime Path while you’re at it?”

Tubbo smiles, and takes Scar’s hand in his. “Great idea. Come on, Scar!”

Scar allows himself to be pulled along, dodging holes in the “Prime Path” as he does so.

“That way’s Eret’s Gay Castle-- you can’t grief it, it’s homophobic,” Tubbo explains, “and up ahead’s Church Prime.”

It’s not much of a church, Scar thinks, given the giant floating poster that’s been left to peel away. Bits of the poster have even been torn off and stolen, leaving only the item frame behind. Still, he knows better than to say rude things about someone else’s religion, even if the state of disrepair... No. He won’t say anything.

Various depictions of anti-Technoblade propaganda still up. They’re so, so ugly. Further along the path there’s a tower that actually isn’t hideous, so it was probably made by-- Eret, was it? The same guy who made the Gay Castle? A stray chicken clucks while Scar tears his eyes away from the Walmart which has magma for floors, and the Targay, and the cobblestone framework of what Tubbo claims is a Denny’s which was used once for roleplay and then promptly abandoned.

Tommy’s old house can best be described as “open air”, to put it politely. At least there’s a fence..? But as Tubbo picks up his items and the two set off for L’Manberg, politely ignoring the giant Gogy posters, they hear a scuffle up ahead.

“Let go of my fucking hair!” George shrieks.

“Not until you give me back my potato,” Sapnap responds. The two grown men are fighting like children in the middle of the Prime Path in broad daylight, pulling each other’s hair and slap-fighting but at least-- no, never mind, they’ve got their weapons out now.

George shrieks at the top of his lungs when one of Sapnap’s swings gets too close. “It’s rotted anyway, why the hell do you want it?!”

“Because it’s mine,” Sapnap insists. He finally bonks George on the head hard enough to kill him, then scoops the rotten potato out of George’s belongings. His hand toys with a flint and steel, but he eventually seems to decide not to burn George’s items for the offense of stealing his potato.

“Oh, hi there!” Sapnap says once he spots them. He waves.

Scar hesitantly waves back. He’s beginning to think that perhaps he should have worn his armor after all. He watches in morbid fascination as Sapnap takes a bite of his rotten potato. Sapnap’s face drains of all color; he immediately leaps off a cliff to go be sick in a valley away from prying eyes. George’s things are left on the ground.

“Y’know, I think I left the oven on,” Scar says slowly. Tubbo looks at him with sad, pitiful eyes, as if to say, do you see what I have to deal with?

“Would you like to go back to Hermitcraft and try again another day?”

Attempting to affect nonchalance and failing miserably at it, Scar waves his hand rapidly. “Actually, Grian really wanted to come see your server, so-- maybe I’ll send him. I’m real busy with, uh, mayor stuff.”

Tubbo nods, pretending to buy the excuse. “I’ll have Dream send you back.”

“Thank you,” Scar says fervently.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit!tommy au #goodtimeswithscar #tubbo #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #dream team #technoblade #itsfundy #fundy #grian #me.cpp #Anonymous

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years ago

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Wednesday 9 August 1837

8 ½

12 ¾

slept with A- came to me on getting into [bed] said she was naughty and was all right but I could not get her to tell what had been the matter fine morning F66° now at 9 25 and breakfast and A- sat with me till after 10 when Mr. SW- came for the day to make up her rent book and accounts and having done before 5pm did up my rent book and accounts – out soon after 10 – with Parkinson in the carriage court at the rain water cistern concern-arches or what – then with Robert Mann + 7 at the terrace wall-race low end for little tower staircase down into the field – let the 2 dry arches fall in this morning – Roberts’ son David Mann and another within an [?] of being buried beneath the walls this afternoon or rather evening about 6 when the outer wall fell down with a sudden crash they having dig close up to it lower than the foundation – Robert + 5 at the wall-race digging + 2 of Nelson’s men came just before dinner to begin laying the foundation of the little tower staircase – Sam Booth and Jack Green all the day getting up thorns against the road wall at the top of the old paddock in the way of the platform-stuff carts – sodding up this afternoon – got a piece raised high enough and planted about 1/2doz. thorns and 1 Ragland oak – (John Bottomley + 2 from the platform brought us 3 loads of the sods for 1/. and Abraham (with my own gin job-cart brought us one load) – sometime with Mark Hepworth (with 3 carts) on the front embankment ordering about how the stuff from front of house and terraces is to be got up – said they must have a new price (7d. per yard cube at present) they should only make 4/. per day per house – (ought to make 5/.) – Booths’ 2 men Edward Waddington and John Sharpe on the top of the house at slate mending, gutters, etc. an opening made over the red room passage last night – the whole of the gutter over this to be made flat and raised – 2 or 3 of Booths’ masons (Robert Wharton Abraham recently returned to us and Gray the labourer) at the terrace steps – 2 masons James and Robert Sharpe at the hay barn I suppose – and Amos Ambler at the pen-trough (Listerwick engine pit) dirlling making holes for the mill wrights – 4 of Parkinsons’ masons at the low terrace-walls, and one or 2 of his men hewing for his carriage court job – 6 of Mawsons’ men moving stuff at the Lodge – a little while there after the men went to dinner at 12 – came in to A- about 12 ½ - brought her upstairs to my room from SW- sat talking about ¾ hour – then to Messrs. Gray and Harper – stood talking sometime in the little dining room – then in the drawing room (G- with us till near 2) till 3 (talking with H- from about 1 20 to 3) A- rode off to Cliff hill just before 3, that I did not see her till dinner at 7 40 H- had seen Mr. Parker last night – Mr. Carr had gone down to him that morning in a great passion saying his landlord had behaved very ill to him, and he was determined to do him all the injury he could – would sell me his (C-s’) 9 coaches and let me the white Swan for the remainder of his term till next May, so that I or my hotel tenant, might have his (C-s’) custom at the White swan till the hotel was ready, and then shut up the white swan – I said I would have nothing to do with Mr. Carr’s purposes of spite and revenge – would not lend myself to anything so dishonourable – I had been told of C-‘s having this scheme of intimidation against his landlord a year or 18 months ago – (Marin told me – heard I think from Mrs. Holmes) – on its being made appear that if I did not buy the coaches C- would sell them to someone else, and that I might have my own way in seeing Mr. Rayner and satisfying him I meant nothing underhand, I agreed to desire Mr. Parker to inquire into Mr. Carr’s proposal and lay it regularly before me – long talk about Mr. Charles Priestley – all his friends all his dependence for pecuniary assistance in York – H- seemed to think he would not and I inclined to think he would take the hotel – if he would better settle it the sooner the better and let him take out the licence and take the coaches and all at once – to write and ask him to call upon me here in the course of tomorrow – the less I had to advance the better said H- but quite agreed that if I must set a man up, it had better be CP- than Ward, or Sir John Ramsden’s valet butler – H-‘s grandmother Mrs. Myers had a farm near Sir JR-‘s her farm servants know all the R- servants – inquiries can easily be made as to advisability of taking the valet Littledale, if

SH:7/ML/E/20/0107

CP- declines the hotel – H- advises letting the market on a lease of 21 years at a fixed rent – likes Mr. Gray’s plan for the exchange etc only afraid there is not room enough – will think it over and give me a birds’ eye sort of perspective view of the 2 markets exchange buildings and the whole of the ground laid out – gave him away with him the ground plan of Northgate and G-‘s 2 sketches the exchange pile, and the [streeting]- H- advised that if C- should come to terms for the coaches, I should have a person to overlook his coachbooks to see what the 9 coaches would be worth – H- to find the person to do this – Mr. Dobson the great coach account auditor at York would overlook the books and collect the facts and Kemplay of Leeds the auditor general as it were son to Kemplay the school master (has £400 a year for this which takes him but little time) and a man of £800 to £1000 a year independence would vale the custom for me to oblige Mr. H- not a man to do it for money – H- if I wanted to apply to him by letter will be till next Monday morning at the house of ‘Mr. James Hacking, Enfield, near Blackbrune’ (I rather think this Hacking is uncle to Mr. Husband) – and will pass thro’ Bradford per coach and be at the Talbot Inn there at 5pm. on Monday evening next – Messrs. Harper and G- together (after H- had had Hainsworth on his Harper’s leaving me at 3) setting out the East tower so that the foundations can be laid and the cellar done, and setting out the back Lodge till H- went away at a little before 5 – I out from 3 to 7 20 about but chiefly with Sam and Jack planting the ½ doz. thorns and 1 Ragland oak – Zebedee fetched up Booths’ 2 long timbers from the meer to the haybarn for wall-plates – Hainsworth came to me about 6 50 with a long bill for stones – said it must be checked by Mr. Booth – mentioned his not coming to the rent day as a thing that must not occur again – and he promised it should not – then mentioned the market – TG- having spoken about it – I suppose a deputation coming about it – mentioned the names of Mr. Whitley and old Mr. Mitchell – H- seemed to know nothing about it – said I had my own plans but would oblige the town if I could – told H- to get me 2 tenants for my 2 fields – 2 votes – A- and I were determined to have voters – would not rest till we had about 50 – H- much pleased – entering upon a long recital of our praises at the conservative association now consisting 600 members – wanted a room for general meetings that would hold one thousand people – on coming in wrote and sent by Frank (who went this morning to inquire if Thomas Greenwood would hire him as carter) my note to ‘Messrs. Parker and Adam solicitors H-x’ saying that after my note of last night perhaps it was hardly necessary to say I should be much obliged to Mr. P- to communicate with C- and lay his proposal before me, as it seemed not impossible some terms might be come to – dinner at 7 40 – coffee – A- very agreeable and sat long at table and afterwards at coffee till we both came upstairs together at 10 5 and she sat with me in the blue room 20 minutes or more – then wrote all the above of today till 11 55 very fine day F57° at 10 5 pm

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beansbeware · 4 years ago

Text

Beans’ Bagginshield Recs

Here it is! My first rec list eight years since I first started shipping Bagginshield. When this lockdown started (and ended and started again) I found myself re-reading OG/classics and discovering new ones. Sifting through my AO3 history I realized I have read and already forgotten so much fic over the years. For a while, I though the ship had run its course but as we can see now, Bagginshield lives! Check back for updates as I discover (and remember) more fics. Pay attention to the tags and trigger warnings!

I Sang In My Chains Like The Sea by orphan_account for lincesque, IronPanda

In which Bilbo is a Jaeger pilot candidate, and Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. (Pacific Rim AU) [Wasn’t sure how this one worked but man it did]

At the Turn of the Year by northerntrash

They say that strange things live in the woods, fair folk and things more spirit than man; don't step between the old oaks, parents mutter to their children, or they might find you, and eat you. Thorin never believed that, but now winter is settling into his bones, the shadows are growing longer through the hoar frost, and he is lost among the trees.

And it was there that Thorin met him, that strange, laughing creature, walking barefoot through the bracken.

Canon-ish

Homeward Bound by perkynurples for 61Below

His life slips away from him on an elven boat carrying him overseas, and there is one last journey Bilbo Baggins must take if he truly means to arrive home.

Sansûkh by determamfidd

The battle was over, and Thorin Oakenshield awoke, naked and shivering, in the Halls of his Ancestors.

The novelty of being dead fades quickly, and watching over his companions soon fills him with grief and guilt. Oddly, a faint flicker of hope arises in the form of his youngest kinsman, a Dwarf of Durin's line with bright red hair.

(Follows the story of the War of the Ring).

The Great Shire Conspiracy by Avelera for Emsiecat

Ten years later, Bilbo can't even go to the Green Dragon without a dwarven tourist buying him a beer and sobbing over Bilbo's great tragic love affair with Thorin Oakenshield. Which would all be quite touching and heartbreaking, if not for one little thing...

Dark (generally not a fan but this one made the cut)

Pain-Bearer by lilithiumwords (unfinished)

In an alternate reality, Erebor was never taken by Smaug, and the War of Dwarves and Orcs never happened. The Orcs invaded the Shire, slaughtering hundreds and taking countless more as slaves. Bilbo is slave to Azog, the Dwarf King's mortal enemy... until the Dwarf King rescues him.

Dwarves! in the Shire

Selling to Hobbits by HildyJ

Exiled from his kingdom and living on the mercy of others, Thorin is determined to make his own way in the world for him and his family. And the annual Summer Fair in Hobbiton sounds like the best place to sell enough of his crafted goods to do just that.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ (series)

After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Erebor - Nope, Never Fell

A Most Sensible Idea by HildyJ

Bilbo Baggins isn't sure about this. Not one bit.

Frodo is definitely too young to enter into an arranged marriage with a dwarven king called Thorin Oakenshield. It's a good thing that Bilbo is there to chaperone him through their courtship.

After all, there's no chance that a fussy hobbit bachelor would ever catch the eye of a king.

Signs and Meanings by HildyJ

It shouldn't matter to Thorin that the visiting hobbit cook doesn't speak his language. But it does.

Per Aspera by northerntrash

Deep in the dungeons of the Kingdom of Erebor, in an old, unused storeroom, lived a Hobbit.

In which Bilbo Baggins, a strangely successful thief, makes a mistake, and meets a Prince.

Erebor - Rebuilding

Mother-Tongue by northerntrash for HildyJ

Forget-me-not: a small flower, with four petals, which are normally found in shades of blue with a pink or white centre. These are traditional flowers of intent in the Shire, used to express true love, and remembrance.

In which Bilbo plans to leave Erebor, and Thorin tries to understand why.

Previous Engagements by Lunarflare14

After the Battle of Five Armies Thorin and Company have a new task: rebuilding their reclaimed home. Suddenly Bilbo finds himself up to his ears in responsibility and he surprises himself with how well he can navigate negotiations with elf dignitaries, farmers in Dale, and a dwarf king who has patience for neither.

But as Spring approaches a caravan from the Blue mountains brings something everyone had nearly forgotten: the dwarf woman Thorin promised his hand to many years ago.

Which is fine. It's all fine. It wasn't like Bilbo was falling in love with the king or anything.

That would be tragic.

And I'm Your Lionheart by Lee_Whimsy

Bilbo lingers in Erebor while Thorin recovers from his wounds, and soon finds himself caught up in politics, romance, and the occasional kidnapping. Ensemble cast. AU. Eventually Thorin/Bilbo.

Fix-Its (Gawd we need them)

An Expected Journey by MarieJacquelyn

For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right?

Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

though the stars walk backward by baggvinshield, killaidanturner

Bilbo wakes, always in Erebor, with dark shadows to one side and the first light of a terrible dawn to the other.

An Expected Journey by MarieJacquelyn

Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Over Your Shoulder by northerntrash

The battle is over, and the lost have been counted. There is too much death, too much blood, and in the middle of it sits one small Hobbit, left quite alone but for a body on the ground and the memory of what might have been. But he is a tenacious creature, and if there is one thing that he has learnt, it is not to give up hope.

In which Bilbo Baggins goes on one last journey, and doesn't come back alone.

Historical Setting

The Ghost And Mr Baggins by perkynurples

They say that everything can be cured by saltwater - sweat, tears or the sea. Bilbo Baggins chooses the last option, taking his recently orphaned nephew and moving to the charming Oak Cottage, overlooking England’s grislier shores. The house charms him instantly, and though he knows nothing at all about the sea, or about making ends meet on his own so far from everything he’s known his whole life for that matter, he’s quite determined to stay, and see his nephew get better, odd sounds in the night be damned. He’s living in a modern world, after all, and the nonsense he’s been hearing about the house being haunted by its former owner, the mysterious Captain Durin, is just silly superstition… isn’t it?

Hobbit! Thorin

I've Grown a Hedge Around My Heart by pibroch (littleblackdog)

Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood.

It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him.

Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

Marriage (or something like it)

An Unexpected Proposal by Eareniel

As Bilbo sat smoking in his empty hobbit hole, he couldn’t help but wonder – when did his life become so boring? Or better yet – when did his old life stop being enough?

He suspected the answer to that question lay somewhere around the time when he had refused Thorin Oakenshield’s offer of marriage.

Something Blue by Lapin

Thorin marries Bilbo after the Battle of Five Armies, a marriage of convenience, not love. Slowly, they must come to make the best of it, Bilbo resolves. After all, he's a Hobbit. They make the best of things.

Magical/Super Powers

On Adventures and Other Forms of Conduct Unbecoming of a Wizard by manic_intent for beingevil

For as long as even the old Gaffer could remember there had been a wizard living in the hill at Bag End, overlooking the Shire. As wizards went, this one wasn't the wandering sort, always out to lure gentle folk out onto nasty adventures, or even the powerful kind, the sort that lived in high towers, reaching out into the ways of the world.

Modern Setting

Old Stone, New Fires by northerntrash

Bilbo was not sure what he had expected when he had agreed to supervise the restoration of Erebor House, on the lonely tidal island in the North sea, but it was not this. The winters up here are cold and harsh, and there is a strange feeling on the air, thick with the brine of the sea and secrets to which he is not privy; there is some part of the long and troubled history of the place that has not been spoken of, a shadow between the broken family gravestones and the caves beneath the cliffs, dark and dangerous.

Perhaps it is all in Bilbo’s mind, but as the nights grow longer, he starts to doubt it, and as Thorin sinks ever deeper into black and incalculable moods, he will have to find what has been lost, before it takes them all.

For This by northerntrash

Thorin Durin had lived in his new flat for approximately eighty four minutes when things started to go terribly, terribly wrong. The wrongness came in the form of a package, delivered to his door, wrapped in brown paper and string, with a small tag wishing him a very sincere welcome to the building.

Nothing Gold Can Stay by perkynurples

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples

Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

If There Were Water by stickman

Bilbo Baggins might be in over his head. He’s purchased an old stone house atop a hill overlooking a city he doesn’t know, and plans to live quietly, largely ignoring the rest of the world. But it’s early April, the rainy season, and the roof leaks, and there's something strange about Bywater House that he can't quite figure out.

Thorin Oakenshield is in his fourth month of trying to reconcile his own grief with his failures at anything remotely resembling a competent single parent, living out of a shoebox flat with Fíli (seven, sullen, and stubborn as hell) and Kíli (five, resilient but cracking), working crap jobs and hating everything including himself.

Under the cover of rainy afternoons and sleepless nights, roof repairs and building restoration, Bilbo and Thorin try to figure out how one navigates isolation, and how one breaks out of it. Every step they manage to take forward finds them dragged back again; every question asked has too many answers, or too few. This is a story about living in a world where everyone is on their own, always, and how things go on.

How the West Was Won and Where It Got Us by stickman

Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands.

Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up.

Except one morning, someone does.

The Boy You Met (At The Coin Laundry) by Lee_Whimsy

Bilbo accidentally spends a summer in Ireland. One rainy day, Thorin appears in the hotel laundry room, naked and dripping wet and about to propose. (But not, unfortunately, to Bilbo.)

Gandalf, Thranduil, and a handful of Spanish footballers all guest-star.

Hooked On You by Chamelaucium

Thorin should have learnt not to trust his brother and sister by now.

Come with us on holiday, they’d said. It’ll be fun, they’d said. A nice break from work.

Yeah right. All this holiday had brought him was being knocked around the head, acute hay-fever, and the biggest, most ridiculous crush ever on the cute, golden-haired fishing instructor.

One-Sided Conversations by northerntrash

"Thank you for listening," Thorin said, getting to his feet. "I hope to be able to return the favour, one day."

The man on the bed didn't respond, but since he'd been in a coma for longer than Thorin had known him, that wasn't entirely surprising.

“One”/Soulmates

you lick your lips (you taste like years of being alone) by perkynurples for stopchasingflowers

Thorin Oakenshield was born without the longing, and has spent his whole life merely observing others as they pursued a feeling unknown to him until they finally found their One. He has made his peace with the prospect of being alone, and has been faring well enough, but little does he know the fates have a different story in store for him.

Things We Grow Together by serenbach

Dwarves are born with a bone-deep knowledge of their One, but Thorin stops feeling the pull of his after the dragon attacks Erebor. Needless to say, he is surprised, and not initially pleased, to find his One living behind a round green door decades later.

Hobbits find a seed that represents their innermost self and can offer it to someone else to plant. This creates a bond as strong as deep roots in the earth between them. It is just like Bilbo, after years of thinking that no one would want his, to offer his soul-seed to a dwarf that does not understand gardening metaphors.

But just because they have found each other does not make the quest to reclaim Erebor any easier, and in the end a sacrifice is still made.

Thorin has to trust in the strength of the bond between himself and his One, because otherwise he will never believe that the sacrifice was worth it.

Colour-struck by northerntrash

Soul mates are like adventures, Bilbo had often consoled himself. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that made you late for dinner. It was no great hardship that he had never met his, even if he couldn't tell which of his petunias were blue and which were purple.

Quest-ions

Discovering Mr Baggins by Eareniel

The story of a Hobbit, told through the eyes of the dwarves.

Thorin Oakenshield's Majestic Diary by Fruitsie

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and Totally Majestic Badass of Middle Earth, does not have a raging hard-on for Bilbo Baggins.

No, seriously.

Just read his diary.

Call You Home by northerntrash

In which the Company are entirely too nosy about matters that are supposed to be a secret, and Bilbo learns that being concerned about propriety is overrated when you could be making friends instead.

Time Travel (because walking Middle Earth is not enough)

Of an Arcane Binding by Salvia_G

An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor

#bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #the hobbit #fic rec #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield

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sapphiics · 4 years ago

Text

Didn’t we almost have it

a/n: I heavily suggest listening to Dammit by Jana Kramer while reading this, it is where I got the entire plot from.

dt: to my dear @morcias because who else just loves morcia so much. plus I asked her a million questions to help me figure out details for this.

word count: 3k

content warning: it’s angsty(?) and quite sad but with a very happy ending.

-----

God did Penelope hate driving through Illinois.

The only reason she was coming back was for the bridal shower of a girlfriend from college, otherwise she would’ve stayed in California, where she was at least a good thousand miles away from this place.

All it did was make her nostalgic, almost painfully so. The entire state serving as a physical reminder of her old life. One she had not a chance in hell of getting back.

The urge to race her car to the nearest ‘Leaving Illinois’ sign coming over her yet again, Penelope makes a right turn onto Commonwealth avenue. Christina’s house was only five minutes from where she was.

It was the walkway that first drew her eye. A stone path, small flowers lining it. She could almost hear his heavy footsteps getting louder as he jogs to greet her, meeting Penelope in the middle with a chaste kiss as she hauls grocery bags under her arms, enough food for four.

As she nears closer, her eyes travel up the length of the two-story building, it’s utter perfectness painfully pressing into her like a stab to the gut. It took every ounce of restraint that she possessed not to slam the brakes and just gawk at the vision in front of her.

That was the house.

The dream house. The one the two of them fantasized about back in college. Penelope can practically see the late nights they spent in her dorm, cramped together on her twin bed, their fingers intertwined. His free hand running over her head, pushing her hair back behind her ear and tilting her into his shoulder. Hushed planning of their happily ever after. She can hear his voice whispering in her ear, about how they would have two perfect daughters. He would be a FBI agent, and she would work for a nonprofit organization. He’d cook, she’d clean, he would take care of the lawn, she’d do the laundry.

That was the plan. Their own special, simple, linear plan.

Until real life happened, essentially taking those plans and throwing it off a cliff. That’s all it was now, a pretty daydream to keep Penelope from having to accept the fact that nothing in her life is going like she hoped, and she’s probably going to end up alone.

None of that stopped her from turning into the lot of the house, the door slightly cracked open. A large ‘For Sale’ sign hung on it.

Giving her the perfect opportunity to see what she could’ve had. To spend a few fleeting moments dreaming of the life she would’ve had with him.

Finally found that dream house, and yet the dream guy was long gone.

Her hands shakier than she would’ve liked, Penelope slowly steps out of her car, the two story home everything she ever envisioned.

The path up to the house was lined with daffodils, she could see as she passed them. The front door was a smooth dark brown. Solid wood, contrasting with the otherwise creme exterior of the house.

That would’ve been his touch. He always liked that building and renovating stuff, she could almost hear him begging her to let him remodel the place. To really ‘make it their home.’

The entrance didn’t nothing to deter her, the arching ceilings and oak floors straight out of her most vivid dreams. The arches reminded her of college. Charles Deering Memorial Library, to be specific. She had always liked the gothic architecture, and even he could admit that the towering building’s medieval influence was well executed. And that chill day in March, the ninth, to be exact, when they first met. She was working there part-time, and he needed something from the football archives.

It was his smile that drew her in, his eyes drawn up real small as he flashed her two rows of perfect teeth.

What she would give for one of those smiles right about now.

An embarrassingly loud gasp left her mouth as she walked in further. Ahead of her were a pair of large black couches, perpendicular to each other. A grand fireplace in front of them, an open space perfect for a nice big flat screen.

Hockey. That’s what would be playing. He was huge on the sport, and her mind drifted to an image of the two of them sitting on the couch. Him in a worn out jersey and his lucky socks, her in his beat leather jacket, feet propped up in his lap. She has headphones and her knitting, he has a beer she steals sips of and has a loose grip on her ankle, his fingers pressing against the small tattoo she got the day she turned eighteen. Just like old times.

Without even glimpsing at the side door that led to the kitchen, Penelope could already visualize him sitting on the counter. A soft white tee and some sweatpants, strumming on her ukulele and singing some old 90s ballad off key while she chopped vegetables. Later that night, after their girls went to bed, the two of them dancing together to her parents’ old record player. An old Bee Gees song softly in the background as they sway.

Her mind racing, she’s already thinking of summer barbecues. Her and JJ drinking margaritas in the shade, their children’s laughter bringing a grin to her face. Him talking it up with Rossi about god knows what as he mans the grill. The sun setting as he takes a seat next to her, tugging her into his side and placing a small kiss on the side of her head.

The overwhelming realization that Penelope is never going to get that future, never going to have the future she so desperately wanted with him, hit her harder than ever in that moment.

And next thing she knows she can feel tears running down her cheeks. Alone, in the middle of an open house in the one state, the one city she vowed to never return to, and she’s sobbing like a baby.

“Well Hello Miss!” ,a kind old woman steps out, shocking Penelope back to reality, “You here for the house?”

“Yes,“ she says softly, hastily wiping at her face, “Yes I am. Just a quick look around.” Her hands swipe at her dress, trying to regain even a semblance of composure, “You have a beautiful home.”

The woman casts her a sympathetic smile,

“Thank you. Me and Sarah have lived here for over forty years. We raised our five children in these very walls,” the lady beams, a smile coming over her face as she looks around the room,

“We figured that with them all gone and us not getting any younger, we could downsize just a bit.”

Penelope let out a polite laugh, but stayed silent otherwise.

“You stay for as long as you like! My name’s Carolyn by the way. Let me know if you need anything!”

“Penelope, and thank you,” she smiles at her, Carolyn returning to the back of the house.

Penelope’s eyes catch onto the grand staircase, passing over the perfect crème walls and carpet flooring.

Her feet moved towards it, the view before her so accurate to her vision that it was like somebody reached into her brain and pulled out the design themselves. She needed to have this place.

Right before she can take a step on the stairs, she sees Carolyn return, a dimmed smile on her face.

“I’d like to buy the house,” Penelope states confidently. She couldn’t possibly leave here without having it.

It didn’t matter that she lived across the country, with decent enough friends and a steady job. This was the house, and if she had the chance to get at least one part of the dream, she damn sure was going to take the opportunity.

Carolyn winces, a regretful look on her face. “I’m so sorry Penelope, we just had somebody place an offer for it.”

“Oh,” Penelope’s eyes widen slightly, and she can feel the tears pushing their way to the surface. For just a second, she let herself get entranced by the home, and it hurt more than she was willing to admit that she couldn’t have it.

“Are you looking for a similar house ? There’s one just in Fullerton Road, and I believe it is on sale.”

“No I… I just got caught up,” Penelope waves her hand around the side of her head, her cheeks turning red, “It’s okay, an amazing family deserves this home.”

“Actually, the young man who purchased the place is with Sarah in the back right now. He’s already thinking of renovating the place.”

“Sounds great,” Penelope mused, wanting to be anywhere but here. At least a loving family is getting this house. She just hoped they were as happy as she once imagined she would be.

“Here they are,“ Carolyn announces, adding to Penelope’s discomfort. She had to leave, and fast. The last thing she wanted to see was the happy husband who bought this place to catch her, essentially a random stranger, crying in his kitchen.

“Is your family nearby? Why didn’t they come?” A woman, Penelope could only assume was Sarah, Carolyn’s wife, was talking to the new owner of the house. Penelope stiffened, the awkwardness of the situation palpable.

A deep laugh comes from the other person, and she could hear the two people approaching. “Nope, I’m a single man.”

“What the hell did you need such a big house for then?” Sarah quips.

“Just,” the guy takes a resigned breath, “Just wishful thinking I guess.“

Penelope could hear her heartbeats, the sound thrumming loudly in her ears. She shut her eyes, squeezing them to the point of something akin to pain. This couldn’t be happening. This could just be a terrible dream, and when she opened them, she would be waking up in her apartment. Back home, where she was away from her old life here. Safely away from the love of her life, whose voice she just heard for the first time in five years.

“Sarah, this is Penelope. She just stopped by to look at the house.”

Penelope reluctantly turns, peeling her eyes open. To her disappointment, she was still standing in the swept sold house. Still back in her college town.

Still right in front of her ex-fiancé, one she’s just as irrevocably in love with as she was the day he proposed.

“Derek,” she lets out quietly, drinking in everything about him. He’s only gotten better-looking, and Penelope has always been attracted to him.

It was his face, his eyes to be specific, that captured her in this moment.

Because instead of the resentment and anger she had expected, she had deserved, all that was there was a small shimmer of hope. A sliver of hope that she almost cried tears of relief at seeing. Hope she had given up on ever having until she saw it in his face. The same look reflected in her own eyes.

“Penelope.”

His voice usually stern, she can hear the small waver in his tone. Like he’s just as affected by her as she is him.

Even after all these years, she can’t help but melt when it comes to Derek. It was like her innermost self just knew him, recognized that he, no matter how far apart they were, was always going to have a part of her heart. A power over her that she would never give to any other person.

Yet looking into Derek’s eyes, the only man to ever capture her heart, Penelope could’ve sworn he was feeling the same way she did.

“So, um, we’ll just leave you two for now,” Carolyn’s eyes clearly wide as she drags her wife outside of the kitchen, leaving the pair alone together.

Derek walks a couple steps closer to her, the smell of nice cologne wafting to her nose as he moves near.

He opened his mouth, almost as if he were about to start speaking, but Penelope catches his small sigh and the twitch of his hands.

They were so close, closer than they had been in years, yet that short distance felt wider than the thousands of miles she had made sure to have between them for the past half a decade.

The lack of touch. That’s what was halting them.

They were always touching one another. It was an unspoken language, just for the two of them to understand.

To be so close yet not touching, it felt so inorganic to Penelope, so abnormal.

Penelope looks just a little off to the right of him, his presence too overwhelming. He was examining her, and the quiet was anxious.

“Why didn’t you take the ring?” Derek spits out, his low voice subdued by the hurt she could just hear in his voice. “ I could handle how you left, no note or calls. But you left me your ring Penelope.”

She thought she was prepared for this, the anger he would have for her. But hearing the words in real time, from Derek himself, made her stomach turn. A ball of nausea tossed in her stomach, Derek’s pain something that never failed to physically wound Penelope.

“Derek...,” her heart breaking at how much she affected him.

“Did I,” he pauses, sucking in a shallow breath, “Did we mean that little to you?”

“No.” She locks onto his eyes at that, holding his stare. “You- us, that was everything to me.” A fierceness was in her voice that shocked her, and at the look of his slightly widened stare, she wasn’t the only one. The idea that Derek for a second could fathom the idea that he wasn’t the love of her life, her soulmate, was a stake to the heart.

“Was it marriage? Was it not wanting to be married? Because you could’ve told me.”

Surprising her own self, she moves in a half-step, her hands enclosing one of Derek’s clenched ones. Her fingers act on instinct, sliding through his, rubbing her thumb on the back of his index finger. Five years and his fingers still naturally close around hers .

Her teeth firmly sunk into the flesh on the back of her lip, she peers up at Derek, his expression unreadable. He was always better at the reading people thing, it was like second nature to him.

“I promise you, Derek Morgan, there is nothing I have ever wanted more than to marry you.”

Feeling his hand tighten around hers, glancing up to see his brows pulling together, she pushes on, needing to express to him her every feeling. “ You didn’t deserve what I did, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by when I didn’t feel like the luckiest person in the world to have such an amazing guy.”

“ I am so,” words that she’s been practicing for years suddenly getting clogged in her throat, making every word come out like a croak, “ so sorry for ever hurting you.”

Tears burning behind her eyes, nothing stuns her more than when Derek cups her face, his large palm enclosing her cheek as he runs his fingers lightly through her hair.

“Is it the house?”

Taken aback, Penelope jolts her head upward. “What?”

His hand now on her shoulder, he turns her to the right, giving her a wider view of the home.

“Is it the right house?”

“It’s the perfect house.” Her voice trailing off at the end.

She faces Derek, his lips pressed together like he’s trying not to say something.

“We could- we could still have it.” His eyes looking at their hands, in a way that was so unlike him, Penelope didn’t dare try to assume anything about what his words meant.

“Have what?” her attempt to keep her voice even failing miserably. Averting his stare, her eyes land on his neck, where a thin gold chain rests.

A chain that had something that looked dangerously similar to a ring hidden under his shirt.

He looks to where she’s staring, a bald-faced look on her face, and his fingers pull out the necklace to reveal a gold wedding band. The one she bought for him, with the special engraving on the inside.

Through the tears rapidly coming to her eyes, she could see Derek’s face. And the vulnerability and love that shined from him to her

Because he kept it. Even in his clear anger and hurt, the heartbreak she put him in, he kept her ring.

“The plan.” Derek reaches behind his neck, his fingers reaching to the clasp of the necklace. “The big wedding, the two girls,” He slides the ring off of the chain, twirling it round in his hand. “Our dream.” He finally places the ring in her hands, gently closing her fingers around it.

Her mouth falling slightly open, Penelope slowly blinks three times. The words that just came out of his mouth so unbelievable that her brain was taking some time to catch up. She pulls her lip sideways into her mouth, too nervous to say anything.

His hands come up on each side of her face, a tender clasp that lets him turn her head up towards him.

“I never gave up on you, on us.” He lets out a sad laugh, “ Hell, I’m here about to buy a house just to try and get a piece of that dream.”

Penelope bobs her head slightly back, the shock of what’s happening still getting to her. “You really still want it?”

And Derek, bless his sweet soul, just looks at her with a small smile resting on his lips. “There is nothing, absolutely nothing babygirl,” the sound of his old nickname for her better than anything she’s heard the last few years, “that I want more than to be with you for the rest of my life.”

A matching smile coming to her mouth, she brings Derek’s left hand down to her own, and slides the wedding band on to his ring finger.

A soft cry breaks from her lips, and she feels nothing other than pure joy when he leans down, taking her lips in a sweet kiss.

Maybe, just maybe, they can have it after all.

————

taglist: @alexandrablake @lavenderbau @suburban--gothic @altsvu @rem-ariiana @vhsrights @spelleaway @willlemonheadsupremacy @ssaevie @literatekayla @criminalswifts @hotchshoney @moreidsdaughter @reidtheprettyboy

#morcia #derek morgan #penelope garcia #penelope garcia fanfiction #derek morgan fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #grace writes #morcia fanfiction #fic rec #userchips #useryash #userjemilyology #userluthor #userablake

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skgway · 4 years ago

Text

1832 Nov., Tues. 20

7 20/..

11 50/..

Thick, hazy, soft morning Fahrenheit 47º at 7 1/2 a.m. Downstairs at 8 20/.. to speak to Goodyear (from near Brookfoot and Southholm) come about the stone in George Naylor’s land – Bids 5/. [shillings] a yard but wishes a hole to be opened to see the stone, and if worth more will give it – His 2 partners are Heap of H–x [Halifax] and Naylor of Willow hall – Said he was to tell George Naylor of upper place where he would like the hole to be made and I would see about it – He staid talking an hour till Throp came –

Then breakfast in 20 minutes and out with Throp at 9 40/.. to 12 20/.. – Took Throp all along the walk – Then to Well-royde upper wood – Will plant it at 15/. [shillings] a thousand with oaks at 10/. [shillings] in rows 2 feet asunder, and the plants 2 feet asunder in the rows, and between each plant in each row put in 2 acorns – (he has acorns from London at 4/. [shillings] a thousand – come from near Dorking) and keep the piece now trenched clear for 4 years at 20/. [shillings] a year – If the rough piece at the top was planted it would cost 10/. [shillings] a year additional keeping clean –

Then took him to the Cunnery wood – Hardly a good handsome plant in it – Has done very ill – Would fill it up with good 2 or 3 feet plants and uphold and keep them sufficiently clean for 4 years at £5 an acre – But could get it all trenched over at 1/3 a rood of 49 square yards which would be about 6 guineas an acre – And plant it with acorns at 40 /. [shillings] an acre and the acorns would cost about a guinea an acre (acorns at 4/. [shillings] a bushel and 1/. [shilling] a bushel carriage and about 3 or 4 bushels per acre) would make the trenching and planting with acorns about £10 an acre and then would keep all clean at 40 /. [shillings] an acre – Thus this plantation of about 3 acres would have cost me in 4 years about £50 – Said I would think about it –

On leaving Throp at 12 20/.. went down my walk to the brook – Pickles not there today or yesterday –Then to Charles Howarth’s to value the oak tree lying in the Cliff hill ground – If it will come in for any of my uses will buy it –

Home about 1 1/4 – Saw my aunt – Changed my clothes – Wrote all the above of today till 2 1/2 – Waiting for Joseph Wilkinson who was to be here at 2 – From 2 1/2 to 3 35/.. read from page 58 to 100 (end of the life of Romulus and comparison between him and Theseus) volume 1 Langhorne’s Plutarch –

Off at 3 3/4 to Lidgate – Talking to Jack Green by the way – That throw down just behind Mytholm engine (2 or 3 yards back towards Hippherholme) as of 16 yards – Told Jack of wanting to see Joseph Wilkinson – Would give him tomorrow to come in (but if did not see him there Mr. Parker must try and settle for us about footpaths and water to Lower brea –

At Lidgate at 4 30/.. – I had met Miss W– [Walker]’s postboy with a note asking me to dinner at 5 and stay all night tomorrow – The Mill house Rawsons cannot go to her till the 3rd and ask whether this would interfere with our going to York –

You know how glad I shall be to see you and remember how truly happy [y]ou will make me if I can be useful to you in any way in your enterprize au secret. I reproached myself not a little yesterday that it did not occur to me to say this yesterday. I thought of it before you had been gone five minutes.

Very good of her, but thought I, I shall take care of getting under obligation of this kind. Declined going tomorrow – Miss Parkhill urged my going to them – Said I was afraid I could not even promise for Thursday –

Sat talking 3/4 hour to them got up to come away – Miss W[alker] took me into the dining room. Explained that I thought it better not to stay all night again during Miss P[arkhill]’s visit, and declined even breakfasting there, and made Miss W[alker] agree that I was right. She seemed glad to see me and more affectionate than usual. Kept me twenty five minutes. To call again at Lidgate on Friday –

Home in 1/2 hour (dark) at 6 10/.. – Changed my things – Dinner at 6 1/2 – Had Pickles with the man he summoned the other day for cutting sticks in the hedges – Pretended greatish anger and difficulty in letting the man off (at Pickles’s entreaty) for paying for the summons, and giving Pickles 5/. [shillings] –

Wrote the following in answer to note I found on my desk from Mr. Mitchell the land valuer (who had been to speak to Mr. Carr about Godley, who said that, out of gratitude to me, he should make me the 1st offer of it) –

“Shibden hall Tuesday 20 November 1832. Sir – I was not at home when your note arrived – I shall be glad to see you tomorrow morning at the earliest hour you can make it convenient to come after 8 – At 8, if that hour will suit you, will suit me best – I am, Sir, etc. etc. etc. A Lister" –

Sent this note by John to "Mr. Mitchell, Cowmarket, Halifax" – Wrote the last 24 lines till 8 40/.. – Then read from 100 to 113 volume 1 Langhorne’s Plutarch and had a little nap till 9 3/4 – Then went into the other room and sat talking to my aunt till 10 50/.. –

Letter from Lady Stuart dated 16 November, 4 pages of 1 large sheet and a 1/2 sheet full from Lady Harriet de Hagemann, Copenhagen, dated 4 November. Both franked by Lady Althorp and printed over the top on his majesty’s service – Both very kind letters – Both Lady S– [Stuart] and Lady H[arriet] de H– [Hagemann] wishing to see me – Lady S– [Stuart] would I hope receive the shawl the day after she wrote – Asks my interest for Mr. Wortley – I shall explain about this – Still not knowing what Vere will do –

Thick, hazy, soft November day but fine enough for the time of year – Fahrenheit 49º at 11 p.m. –

#anne lister code breaker #anne lister #ann walker #shibden hall 1832

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wt4kmm · 4 years ago

Text

WATER

We don’t even talk about death--cause dying ain’t gotta be done today

We not ready to die--we keep just getting this started

Our audacity surfaces as the blueprint

And the blueprints are the maps

Domestic & internationally

The faces of every person that died already--are surfacing everywhere

--as the blueprint to rebuild the bricks of this dynasty--

Breath...easy

This is survival of the fittest

We are the off springs of the fittest

The Victors of the Fitters

Breathe

Easy

These answers are for the questions we can’t afford to be scared to ask no more

I saw my greatest great great grandmother for the first time in a dream last night

We had the same pair of eyes--kinfolk

She fed me without fire

Designed me amour--adornining me without a needle and thread--but water and air

After going to sleep off of ginger water--

She reminded me of living & protection

That we are the new --we are the improved

that we should do something about staying here a little longer

“Y’all be so gung-ho-to go”

grandmother water speaks

“You have never belonged on the bandwagon anyway--the ride been too full--with an emptiness too foreign to the map and design of you. Woman Child, eagle, fire bird,, way maker flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood that disguises itself in the crevices of the wind--winter is blessed--you are chosen-and you should do something about staying here a little longer--there’s honor in dying for something but you become a different type of giant when when you don’t die when you’re supposed to--when it’s written--there’s no eraser. ”

I spoke back:

“It’s not that we really ready to die--

it’s just sometimes a lot goes into breathing—a lot of us ain’t done catching our breaths--a lot of us don’t know how to--a lot of us just know how to run --how to try to catch up--

if we all not standing in the circle holding hands--the magic won’t work

The broom will beat us up and the doors will open & shut without a hand on it-- the windows will break on its own the curtains will tangle us all up--

“That’s what happens when you try to catch up where you aren’t in the running”

She said worry about yourselves

She told me to stop to remember we are the alchemist of the sun--the function of the moon

the highest and the lowest points of truth & illusion

She asked “ever seen a watermelon destroy a volcanic fire?” we control where 92% of that water goes.

----------------------------------------------------------------

I’m from this

Round

Yellow

Brown

Crown

Oak

Purple

Heavy

Dark Brown

Dark and Black

Dark and Bright

*x2*

Never see through

while burning and never the same when shit hits the fan

Or a son hits the ground--or a daughter who doesn’t make it to tomorrow when all she was doing was laying down & Olu I think of your face everyday I look at mine in the mirror or in the wind when it’s late and I’m walking under dark trees--praying I don’t run into anyone who doesn't know that their trauma is mine too---hope he makes his mind up to see me & see the best parts of his mother

I’m from women who will talk you into the color: calm

While with a head full of chaos like a bullet bubbling in a barrel of a gun

Palms sweating--jittery off of coffee, making it happen, and 4 hours of sleep

Somehow cool—women maintain

We still get up and we feed the babies

I come from this

Stepping out of women

Spread thick across their own worlds like lotuses

Who on one shoulder

had the world on it

Who

On the other shoulder

Balanced the heaven in her head as simple as a “goddamn break” from trying catch up & the one Jesus tells her has pearly gates

--balances hell

like imaginary shapes she hides from herself to keep herself

never lost, for as sure as her hands stir the pot--there’s food

Sweet potatoes 36 ways

We are the women of the sun and the moon--we are the belly of a compass

Pickpocketing stars & rent money

We make a way out of no way--

10 dollars stretch against her bra & breast & lasting for weeks

Born into--

Women who use improvisation to become masters

Born into the challenge and the victory

Women who sit themselves out on cliffs to jump

and not die

Women who talk to God in classrooms

And practice him on athletic fields--and in the parking lot

We get audacity from grandmothers.

Working up the nerve as grand as 10,000 armies like a grandmother

Pot full of beans filling us for weeks --like Charlotte

Grandma would buy 1 whole chicken

Cook it and we’d have soup, lunchmeat, chicken & rice

Charlotte would spread it thin like she had 8 legs

Turns out she just has powers

9 lives like porch cats

My grandmother mean if that’s what you wanna call audacity

but she’ll give you and your kids her shirt if it’s cold

a house if it’s raining

if you standing outside barefoot

she’ll give you her shoes

It's audacity that makes up our rarest form of magic and magicians who look like us

Handmade by God disguised as Grandmothers

Mine made home fries & salmon cakes with sardines

Hardly ever baked, goods from scratch

Just payed home insurance

with formulas and rubrics in her sweat glands

Ever-y uphill--fight--counts more than any downhill fall

Deliberately she is made up solely of delivering herself

Mother

saves them all

Mother

save them all

I am from who gets scared of her own reflection

But remains a fact

up front

At attention

These mothers don’t take orders

But scriptures

And surahs--not in binded leather but in blue skies and blue water

Fingertips stitched with electricity and intuition

‘And that mine eyes are ever toward the Lord; for he shall pluck my feet out of the net’

And that “All dominions of heaven and earth belongs to Allah, he gives life and causes death’

Before hash-tagged, women who are

Yemaya and Oshun in spirit and in flesh

Who before the tabernacle was invented knows where the scriptures were stolen from in place of our land

creates justice,

gives justice,

is justice in the eyes

Of herself, without flash

Women who revere on foot

Who don’t know nothing about counting no money

but makes it all the way to three hundred and sixty

On foot--not using her hands & without a shadow of a doubt

The first one to choir rehearsal

And they all; always the last to leave--caught up in the ritual of praise; the holy ghost of the music who lurk in foyers & tambourines

When the lights go out

The women I come from rub their hands together like Birdman for fire, heat for the house

laugh and sing until there’s a rumble in the walls

Wash each others feet in lukewarm water

Chant,

Quote

Dance

Pray—

Sing loudly

while steadily bleeding

They laugh loudly together

Cause the blood...falling on them

Woman, I’m grateful for your mothership

Your chariots of rainbows

Whether in black and white or in color

Woman, your colors have turned darkness into day

I’ve never gotten the truth from the bible that I didn’t have to cross reference

With you as my study

You make me believe in the glare they said wasn't mine but I know it belongs to me

You are the reading rainbow of common sense

I’m breathing in your sacrifices

inhaling your truth -- I'm not just making it through

My life here, is an ode to you

I have turned into God, for you

I will challenge everything I do not believe as the truth

I will follow myself into any abyss--if the spirit uses me so

I will combat what was taught me— find it for myself

I will bring back what I have gathered and teach you to let go of the cross

And except your winnings as the ones you worked for

Challenging you to see yourself as God

Because woman you are my source

One could only create another

You deserve more than flowers woman you deserve to live

I will, in your honor, reach higher, lotus

For you--I will make a paradise out of birds--gamble everything where truth sees fittest

I will stand statuesque like two moose making love where plain eyes see fighting

She asked:

If a circle is solid, is it full or empty?

#poetry #poet #revolution #blackart #blackwriters #woman #blackwoman #writing #literature #culture #mothership #spirit #blackcreatives #blackcreators #artist #writers

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peachyteabuck · 5 years ago

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ceo chronicles. pt ii ~ loki

series summary: a set of fics based off of the main au of sugar baby/mommy or daddy dynamics and ceo aus. each fic involves a separate universe wherein each charcter is the ceo of a different company and you’re their sugar baby. sexy times ensue.

fic summary: after treachery within his company leads to a major dip in stock prices, loki's not exactly in the mood to “make love”

pairing: ceo!loki x sugar baby!reader

words: 1,745

trigger warnings: i talk about economics which is terrifying in and of itself, lack of foreplay, angry fucking, squirting, cum play.

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Loki isn’t happy, but he never truly is when he first comes home from work.

Every day he comes in seething about this person in accounting and that person in marketing, grumbling about this thing that went wrong and that thing that went wrong. Every day he steps into the house with fevered steps, ready to fuck you over the surface closest to wherever he finds you in his large penthouse. You’re what he looks forward to at the end of each grueling day, why he hasn’t forced himself into early retirement. If he stepped down he’d receive quite a pretty retirement package, but he still wouldn’t be able to hunt for you in your home at the end of a long work day.

Wherever he finds you, he’ll fuck you then and there. Sometimes it’s the kitchen counter, the bathroom next to the sink, your bed, the couch, the floor. Loki does not like to mince words, doesn’t like to prolong the inevitable. He’s short, to the point, both in business and in pleasure.

Despite this, Loki’s never harsh (or, never stays harsh), when he fucks you. No, he holds you like you’re made of precious porcelain, something unique and valuable and breakable; like you’re some museum piece kept in archives for fear of sun damage.

There are rare times he lets go, just takes you in some feral, wolfish way. These are his even scarcer days off, or those particularly serious times when really fucks up. It’s then, on those notable, raw occasions that Loki holds you down, props you face-down ass-up in the middle of your California king on your perfect one-thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and pounds into your dripping cunt until you’re bruised and screaming and begging for something – whether it be for him to cease immediately to continue until the end of time unknown.

As Loki steps into the door with his teeth barred, slamming it behind him before throwing off his coat, it’s obvious that tonight is one of those times. It’s regular that you’re caught off guard by this change of pace, but this time you saw it coming. The last few nights you’d woken up at two, three in the morning to the other side of the bed void of warmth and the sound of Loki’s strained voice on the phone with his CFO coming from his desk on the other side of the room.

You’d seen it on the news, too, unable to turn off the alerts fast enough to hear the news: there’d been a leak in the product manufacturing department, and a prototype had been leaked to a company rival. A mere days later, what Laufeyson Co. was known for they’d now become second best. They were now an underdog in a world where they’d previously held a monopoly, a long way to fall for such a successful startup.

This tumble down the Fortune 500 latter meant many, many things, including the plummeting of stock prices. This loss of money, especially due to such a heinous act as treachery, puts Loki on an edge you’ve never seen him before.

He finds you in the kitchen, carving a chicken you roasted yourself. As the sliced bits fall down onto the large, dark brown cutting board, it becomes obvious to Loki that they’re meant to be plated with the with potatoes and asparagus resting in the pure white bowls to your right.

No matter, he thinks as he unbuttons the top of his pristine white button-up and unzipping his pants. That’s what ovens are for.

The second your lover comes into view, you understand; you understand what you are to do and what you are to do.

Wordlessly, you wipe your hands on your apron before untying it, running to the closest item of furniture as you peel away the t-shirt of Loki’s you had been wearing. The deep oak dining room table, sans its centerpiece and any cutlery, provides the place for what will surely be the beginning of an eventful night.

Loki’s the first one to speak, moaning as he spreads your folds with his thumb. “Oh God, baby,” you mewl as he avoids the most sensitive parts of you, instead basking in the heat of your soaked center. “You’re so soaked for me, aren’t you?”

You whine out something that vaguely resembles a yes, and Loki grins. He loves seeing you like this, all desperate and dripping and all so quickly, as if seeing him triggers some Pavlovian response in your pussy.

Loki’s, never being one for prolonging his own pleasure, quickly shoving two fingers into your already-soaking cunt. The sharp inhale of break turns into a deep moan as his other hand moves to your clit, rubbing expert circles over the sensitive nub.

“Loki-“you gasp, and immediately your cheeks warm at the sound of the desperate, high-pitched sound. Before it was just a whisper, but now your cries sound so much more pathetic.

He catches on immediately, understanding what you want; what you need. “Oh, my little girl…you’re already so desperate, aren’t you? I’ve barely touched you and you’re already whining like the little cock slut you are, begging for me to be inside of you”

You can feel your wetness drip down onto your inner thighs as you hear Loki undo his belt and free his aching cock. He just barely teases the tip of it against your entrance, an unexpected action that nearly has you tearing your own hair out from the tenderness.

But before you can push back, he’s got a hand wrapped in your hair and is pulling you against his front. His crisp, shirt acts as a frustrating barrier between your bodies, your skin, and you near beg for him to take it off to feel his skin against yours, to feel him so close in such a moment.

But, before you can even open your mouth, Loki shoves his entire cock into your pussy.

“F-fuck,” you moan. You can feel your hands go numb as you grab at the edge of the table, partially for leverage and partially to give yourself something to cling to – as your nails fail to find purchase on the smooth wood.

Loki just smirks, wide and wicked as he pounds into you. “You like that, baby?” He bites at your neck, his hips snapping into your violently. “You like it when I fuck you this hard?” He waits several beats for you to respond, but nothing but gaspy breathes leave your unpainted lips. Loki, angry at your disobedience, slaps your ass so hard tears immediately begin to flow down your cheeks. “Answer me.”

“Yes, daddy,” you cry out, hoping your lack of following orders doesn’t make him stop. “Yes, I love the way you fuck me.”

Still, Loki isn’t satisfied with this minor retribution. He pulls out of you, ignoring your incessant whining as he flips you over. He then slips three fingers into you and wraps his other hand around your throat. You’re so close you can feel the buttons on his shirt, the necklace he insists on wearing with both of your initials carved onto a sleep bit of silver. “Speak, you little slut,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Tell me how well I fuck you.”

You’ve got both palms grabbing at the arm threatening to restrict your breathing, anchoring him to you. Quickly, words tumble like rocks down a steep cliff. “I love the way you make me feel, Daddy, I fucking love how I can’t walk or think or talk after you fuck me, love how your cock feels in my pussy and throat and ass and hands. Loving feeling you come in me, on me- “

Loki growls. “Tell me you worship my cock, tell me you worship me.”

The pad of his thumb circles your neglected clit, and you cry out as his fingers crook into the spot that always makes you see stars. It makes all the breath leaves your body as you try and obey. “I worship you, Daddy!” You cry out. “I worship your cock, I worship the ground you walk on! I worship your every word!” Your eyes roll back in your head as the coil low in your abdomen tightens like a python stealing the oxygen from your organs and muscles. “Please, please let me come, daddy, please I’ll do anything!”

Loki just smiles and bites at the shell of your ear. “It’s okay, baby girl, let go.”

And so you do, liquid gushing out of you and onto the table. It drips onto the floor, the sound of it puddling erotic as you collapse on the wood – warmed from your body and breath. Air fills and escapes your lungs as a pace your heart nearly can’t keep up with, and you’re left to recover on your own as Loki quickly brings himself to release over your ass.

He collapses next to you on the table, pulling you into his chest and maneuvering you around so that you’re laying lengthwise on the large tabletop. It’s uncomfortable, especially with Loki’s cum still smeared on your ass and your slick still gathering between your legs. Still, it’s hard for your eyelids not to flutter at the sound of your lover’s beating heart and the smells from dinner still wafting from the kitchen counter where you left it.

It’s silent for a while, both of you quiet as you catch your breath and reality settles over you both like a fire blanket. For a moment you’re tempted to move, tempted to fix him a plate or make a sly comment about buying a new table, but it soon passes as Loki’s familiar ringtone blasts from the device’s place on the marble countertop next to your bowl of asparagus ends. You think he’s going to answer it, but instead he allows it to go to voicemail – a rare occasion.

“Aren’t you going to-“ you begin, worried that something truly heinous had happened.

“Nah,” Loki says, eyes shut and breathing even. “I’ll let my assistant handle it when whoever’s calling eventually phones them. For now, I just want to lay with you on this uncomfortable table.”

And so that is what you do, falling asleep on your kitchen table, in the middle of your penthouse, with him still in his dress shirt and you completely naked. It’s nice, you think. To spend time with him alone. Wishing to savor the precious moment, you remain quiet, hoping the peace never ends.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #lukis writes stuff #ceo chronicles: loki #ceo chronicles

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robertsbig60 · 1 year ago

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Sell My House Fast Dallas, What You Should Know

“Sell my house fast Dallas” though it may feel like it will be a stressful experience, but with the right knowledge, it doesn’t have to be. There are many things to consider when selling your home, from finding the right agent to pricing it correctly. But did you know that, in some cases, selling your house directly can be a better option than hiring an agent? Here are four surprising things you…

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#analyzing-a-real-estate-deal #analyzing-my-homes-value #attract-multiple-offers-in-a-sellers-market #avoid-foreclosure-in-dallas #behind-on-mortgage #behind-on-mortgage-payment #buy-my-cedar-hill-tx-home-fast #buy-my-cedar-hill-tx-house-fast #buy-my-dallas-home #buy-my-dallas-house #buy-my-foreclosure-home-in-dallas #buy-my-foreclosure-house #buy-my-foreclosure-house-in-dallas #buy-my-home-fast-in-cedar-hill #buy-my-home-fast-in-cedar-hill-tx #buy-my-home-fast-in-Dallas #buy-my-home-fast-in-garland #buy-my-home-fast-in-grand-prairie #buy-my-home-fast-in-mesquite #buy-my-home-fast-in-oak-cliff #buy-my-home-for-cash-fast #buy-my-home-for-cash-in-dallas #buy-my-home-in-cedar-hill-tx #buy-my-home-in-dallas #buy-my-home-in-foreclosure-in-dallas #buy-my-home-in-mesquite #buy-my-home-in-mesquite-tx #buy-my-house-fast-in-mesquite #buy-my-house-for-cash #buy-my-house-for-cash-fast

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three-of-swords · 5 years ago

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Animal Crossing Countdown

I didn’t find this post until today, so I have to do a LOT of questions in a very short span of time, namely for my own amusement and the two people who care. But I’m gonna put it under a read more because no one needs to see a post this long in the actual ACNH tag.

1: Do you prefer making up a new name for your villager, or using your own name?

I tend to use my nickname, because I share my name with one of my favourite villagers, so it gets confusing and annoying.

2: Do you use the first map you’re given, or do you reset for layouts?

I reset for layouts, but I’m not terribly picky. I reset more because of fruit than layout.

3: Do you use the face you’re given, or do you wait for guides and choose your favourite?

Guides. Me not knowing that your face is dependent on some arbitrary questions was the cause of me immediately restarting my first town.

4: Favourite town/island name?/Have you a name picked out for your town/island?

I’ve only ever played New Leaf, and my town’s name was Wishfall. I’m not sure what I’ll name the island yet, but Wishfall is definitely one of the options.

5: Will you be sharing with friends/family, or is your island going to be all your own?

No. Mine. Though I will be inviting people over, no one will have a house but me.

6: What’s a new feature you’re excited about?

Redirecting rivers. Terraforming. Placing villager houses. Anything that will help me maintain and mold the island into what I want it to be.

7: Favourite fruit?

Apples. Second favourite are cherries, but only for looks.

8: Least favourite fruit?

Probably pears, which is funny, since Wishfall’s town specialty were pears. I don’t like how they look, and I’m also allergic. Second least favourite would be oranges.

9: Favourite area? (Beach, campground, shopping district etc, from any entry in the series.)

The museum.

10: Where do you like to like to put your house? Do you like that level of customization, or do you prefer to have some things decided, like in older entries?

I don’t have experience with the older entries, but I know I’d prefer to make a choice on where my house goes. I like it to be a little away from other villagers, usually backed up against a cliff.

11: Favourite grass pattern?

Triangle.

12: Least favourite grass pattern?

Circle, but it’s not that I don’t like it. I just prefer it less.

13: Favourite villager/s?

Whitney. Julian. Pashmina. Drago. Merengue. Bam. Merry. Apollo.

14: Least favourite villager/s?

Jambette. Cobb. Chops. Frita.

15: Did you like doing Tom Nook’s chores, or did you find those to be a pain?

I mean. I like tasks. But having only played ACNL, I can’t say I HAD any chores besides “Pay your loan!”

16: Favourite NPC/s?

Kicks. Blathers. Crazy Redd. Katrina. Isabelle, obviously.

17: Least favourite NPC/s?

Zipper. Chip. Pave.

18: Do you use paths? Are you excited about the new path tool?

Yes, and fuck yes.

19: Favourite feature from an older entry?

I would have liked to see what the Celeste constellation thing was about. I’ve heard about it, but I don’t know any details. But I like the idea.

20: What was your first Animal Crossing game?

New Leaf was the first game I played in depth and actually owned, but I did play a little of a game on a DS when I was in high school. Probably Wild World. I really only remember shaking trees.

21: Favourite activity (fishing, bug catching, fossil hunting, other)?

Collecting museum donations.

22: Least favourite activity?

The arbitrary rules for the bug or fish tournaments, or the randomization of rewards given in any events at all. The events themselves would be fine, if they made any damn sense.

23: Favourite bug?

Emperor Butterfly. Birdwing Butterfly. Orchid Mantis. Oak Silk Moth. Walking Leaf.

24: Least favourite bug?

Fucking Mole Crickets. Not a fan of the House Centipede or Tarantula either.

25: A quarter of the way there! How’s the wait?

Impatience. So much impatience.

26: Favourite fish?

Goldfish. Sea Butterfly.

27: Least favourite fish?

Giant Trevally. That thing is fucking ugly. Napoleonfish, too.

28: Favourite fossil?

Fern Fossils or any skulls, but I actually don’t have any strong feelings one way or another.

29: Least favourite fossil?

Coprolite. ...Why.

30: Favourite furniture series?

Don’t really have one, though I’m partial to the Regal and Exotic series.

31: Least favourite furniture series?

Lovely. Don’t like it. Don’t like Kiddie much, either, though it’s cute for certain villagers like Kitt or Stitches.

32: Favourite soundtrack? (Gamecube, DS/Wii, etc)

New Leaf, since it’s my only experience.

33: Least favourite soundtrack?

None.

34: Favourite wallpaper?

Lunar Horizon. The Forest Wall, too.

35: Do you have a nice memory of the games/community etc you’d like to share?

When Pashmina moved in next to me, I was irritated. I’d specifically placed my house next to Re-Tail, but not too close, and she moved in between the two buildings. ...But now she’s my favourite goat, my favourite uchi villager, and honestly, I love her to bits. First impressions apparently don’t always matter too much.

36: Least favourite wallpaper?

Industrial, probably.

37: Favourite carpet?

Palace Tile, I suppose? Though it doesn’t go with everything.

38: Least favourite carpet?

Closed Road, probably.

39: Favourite furniture item?

Whichever grasshopper it is that goes in a cute little bamboo cage.

40: Will you be buying a Switch for Animal Crossing, or do you already have one?

I have one already, sadly. I’m sending it out for repairs, though.

41: Least favourite furniture item?

There are some uuuugly ass furniture items, but it’s impossible to remember them, so I don’t.

42: Favourite flower?

Black or pink lilies, blue and purple violets, and blue and purple roses.

43: Least favourite flower?

Meh. I like them all okay. If I had to choose, I’d say I’m not overly fond of the Cosmos.

44: Favourite hybrid?

See above.

45: Least favourite hybrid?

I don’t care much for the orange pansies.

46: Favourite shirt?

Night-Sky Tee.

47: Favourite dress?

I don’t wear them.

48: Favourite accessory?

Feathers.

49: Favourite hat/helmet?

FEATHERS.

50: Halfway there! How’s the wait going?

IMPATIENCE.

51: Favourite shop?

Kicks, I guess. Even though I don’t go in there. I love him. And the sign squeaks.

52: Do you collect amiibo cards/figures? Would you like to see them used in the new game?

I have a good amount of cards, both real and fake. Some figures, too. I wouldn’t say I collect them, but I try to have them just in case. I’d like them in the new game.

53: Fishing Tourney or Bug-Off?

Fucking neither, but if I HAD to choose, Fishing Tourney. At least in New Leaf. I like catching bugs more, but it seems totally random if they’re lackluster or not. I don’t prefer fishing, but at least all you need is the damn size to tell you if it’s a good fish or not.

54: Do you like making your own clothing patterns?

Nope.

55: Did you streetpass with many other ACNL players, or is it a feature you didn’t get much use of?

I streetpassed a bit but eventually turned it off after getting too more undesirable villagers from other people. Frita and Chops will always be two of my most despised villagers for this reason.

56: Favourite villager species?

Wolves.

57: Least favourite villager species?

Gorillas.

58: Favourite nickname from a villager?

Darling, but I liked that Merry called me Pop Star. It was charming coming from her.

59: Least favourite nickname from a villager?

Big Y. Indeed. Big why.

60: Do you try to collect everything in the game, or just try to get your favourite bits and pieces?

I try to collect everything eventually but I’m not insane about it. I like to fill my catalog.

61: Favourite villager personality?

Smug. But it looks better on some villagers than others. Cute on Julian or Lopez, AWFUL on Chops.

62: Least favourite villager personality?

Jock, but again, while it’s cute on Bam, I loathe it on Cobb. It really depends on the villager, somehow.

63: Do you “plot reset” for villager house placement, or do you let them move in wherever they want?

I plot reset a bit, but only if they moved somewhere particularly undesirable.

64: Are you excited to wear any of the new accessories (like the bags etc shown in the E3 trailer)?

Of course I am!

65: What season are you most looking forward to seeing in New Horizons?

Fall. The mushrooooooms.

66: What’s your favourite season?

Fall, though I loved how the cherry blossoms were carried on the river in spring.

67: Least favourite season?

Probably winter, just because it starts to look uninteresting after awhile.

68: Which game’s events/holidays do you like the most?

I’m partial to Halloween. Also, I have to cheat during April Fool’s Day, but the villagers’ reactions to Blanca are cute. I also begrudgingly like Bunny Day, but I can’t say I love it because Zipper creeps me out. I love collecting the eggs from all over the place, but he gives you totally random items, so. Eh.

69: Which game’s events/holidays do you like least?

Love feathers. Hate Pave. Seriously. Can’t stand him. He’s super annoying to me. I like the feather-catching portion and that is IT. I also believe I’ve already expressed my dislike for tournaments.

70: Do you have another nice AC related memory you’d like to share (in-game, of the community, etc)?

Weirdly, this is related to Pashmina again, but once I visited her after I got my face destroyed by bees, and she gave me medicine. I know now that uchi villagers in particular are likely to do this, but I’d never seen it happen before, and I was touched.

71: Do you prefer the “live” versions of K.K. Slider’s Songs, or the airchecks?

Yes.

72: An NPC you’d like to see more of?

Kicks. Sable. Katrina.

73: An NPC you’d like to see less of?

Chip.

74: If you could have any piece of AC merchandise, which would it be?

I dunno. A big comfy hoodie, maybe? A mug? I’m not particularly materialistic. I like useful things.

75: Only 25 days left to go! How’s the wait?

You know, I’m really glad I spent the last few months hyped for games that came out over time. It’s been bite-size chunks of releases that were only a little ways away. Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Concrete Genie. Pokemon Sword. The Cindered Shadows DLC. Pokemon Mystery Dungeon. I can’t imagine this having been the only game I was looking forward to, or I would have died by now.

76: Will you be downloading the game, or getting a physical copy?

Physical copy. As much as I’d love to play it right at midnight, I like not having to wait for download time, or take up a lot of space in storage. I’m hoping my GameStop does a midnight release, but I’m not counting on it.

#THAT TOOK FOREVER #acnh #julian rambles #about me

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jimmythedonut · 5 years ago

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what would you do with an ungodly amount of money?

I’ve thought about it and here’s what I would do:

I’d buy two different houses. One would be in Japan or California, right on the coastline. Preferably on a cliff overlooking a beach. It’d be made of super expensive and durable materials and it’d have that 80s minimalism aesthetic. I don’t want to go into the blueprints but it would be the size of a small-medium mansion (3 stories, 3rd story circular bedroom with an astronomy set up on the roof, etc.) but more money would be spent on making it high tech. The jewel of the house would be a party room downstairs with a giant window flush with the cliff so you could watch the sun set over the ocean.

The other house would be a lodge style house in Switzerland, all oak and walnut and maple hardwood flooring and walls. I want a big study room with a roaring fire with swords and antiques along the walls. A massive 2 story library. I want it overlooking an Alpine valley. Beyond that, become a patron of the arts. Support small metal bands and research, create a collection of weapons and armor and books that I will donate. Find my true love and get married and live our days traveling the world going to castles and other beautiful locations. (Also covertly funding a paramilitary group to kill Hollywood pedophiles)

#hawkin-byrd

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iheartgrayson · 6 years ago

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pizza order | grayson dolan

💘FLUFFY💘

Having a defenseless look on your face while looking at your sister Rosa, you couldn’t help but wanted to smack her across the face and wipe off the amused smirk her lips form when you looked so powerless over something so simple.

‘’But why?’’

‘’Because you are nineteen years old for God’s sake, Y/N. Seriously, you can’t act like a fucking child for a simple phone call.’’ She spatted with a scoff on her face. She was really rude and it made you mad at her.

You crossed your hands at her statement, leaning behind on the chair and looking at the floor- the white fluffy carpet way more entertaining that the conversation you had- all at the same time you tried to play the victim so you could change your sister’s opinion. Usually, you didn’t have a problem talking with people as long as it was face to face; phone calls made you quite nervous and it were countless the times you said stupid things because of your nervousness.

‘’But Rosa. I don’t like phone calls.’’ You defended yourself but it looked like Rosa was not having that. Well, she was right. You were nineteen and a grown ass woman which meant you couldn’t pout and argue over a simple phone call. But like any other normal person who just got to be an adult, phone calls that were not with friends, family relatives or love partners seemed to make them nervous and anxious for no reason at all; you were not the exception of the rule.

‘’Well, grew some boobs. Either you call and order the fucking pizza or let yourself starve.’’ She argued back.

What a fucking bitch!

It was true though. You wanted to order a pizza because your fridge was empty, there was no other source of food and your sister forgot to buy you one on her way home like you so politely asked her to do couple hours ago. It seemed extremely stupid to have an argument over the pizza phone call but your nerves were getting the best of you.

You watched as Rosa threw your phone over the bed she was sitting and looked up at you with the same smirk she had earlier and with avery audible groan, you grabbed it and sat back down while you stared at it debating with yourself what you should really do. Call or starve? When a loud noise came from your complaining stomach you knew the answer right away and with a sigh, you started dialing the all familiar number of the pizza place that was couple blocks away from your house.

You placed the phone by your ear, listening the ringing sound while picking on your nails. A very bad habit you still had while being all nervous. It ranged couple times before a very attractive, muscular, deep and kind of familiar voice answered it.

‘’Star Pizza, here. How can I assist you?’’ You just stood there, listening to the voice that belonged obviously to a man and trying to remember what you wanted. ‘’Hello?’’

‘’Oh, hi.’’ You said back when you shook yourself out of your thoughts.

‘’Hi, how can I help you?’’ He sounded polite and cute.

You bitted your bottom lip before you answered stuttering. ‘’I-I would like one small penis, please.’’ Before you could even think what you just accidentally said, your eyes blown wide and your mouth dropped to the floor, a loud but still cute laugh was heard from the other line.

‘’I only have a large one, is that okay?’’ The gye responded and that was when you wanted to find the nearest to cliff to jump off of and let the earth swallow your pathetic existence.

‘’Umm,’’ You started laughing nervously and rambling your neck. ‘’Sorry. I wanted to say I want one small pizza. I’m so sorry.’’

‘’Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry.’’ The guy said assuring you everything was okay but obviously it was not. You wanted to die right there and then. ‘’Just tell me your address.’’

‘’1840 Black Oak Hollow Road.’’ You answered right away and before he could say anything else, you hang up the phone and threw it as far away as possible from you right before Rosa started laughing hysterically. You rolled your eyes and sighed. ‘’Please, just shut up.’’

‘’Are you serious? You just said ‘I want a small penis’?’’ She repeated your words as she wiped her laughing tears. ‘’Are you fuckign serious? What did they say? Who it was, Nancy?’’

Usually at this pizza place every worker was a female except the delivery guy so it was extremely weird that it was guy who picked up the phone call and that was also part of the reason why you got much more nervous. ‘’No, it was not. For some weird reason it a guy who answered the phone. Please, Rosa, stop. I was nervous.’’

‘’Nervous? You are stupid for acting like that.’’ She exclaimed and laughed again as your words came back to her mind. ‘’And a guy? They must hired a new one.’’

‘’Yeah, and that was the reason why I didn’t want to call. See? I say stupid things over the phone and that proves my point. Next time, please keep it in your mind that your sister just asked you one simply favor so we can prevent those kind of disasters.’’ You fired back and got up before walking out of her room and straight to yours. Let’s hope that event would be forgotten soon because Rosa won’t stop making fun of you for that and let’s say that Rosa had a very weird sense of humor.

Scoffing and sighing you fell with your face on top of the bed, letting a big scream that was muffled between the mattress and trying to prevent the tears of pure distress been fallen from your eyes. ‘’You are extremely smart, Y/N.’’ You talked to yourself and rolled your eyes. ‘’Well, I know what I am going to do. I won’t step a foot on that place again. At least until I know if that guy is fired.’’

It was a promise that soon would be broken, unintentionally

🍕🍕🍕

‘’Y/N!’’ Your mom’s screams woke you up from your daydream, or as everyone called it your studying, and sighed before answering her.

‘’Yes?’’

‘’Please, come here. I need your help.’’ She begged you and after closing your textbooks, you grabbed your phone putting in your jeans pocket and walked downstairs and straight to the kitchen. ‘’Oh, here you are.’’

‘’What do you want me?’’

‘’I need your help.’’ She started as she placed her wallet back inside her big bag and looked up at you.

‘’Duh. What?’’

‘’Tonight, some of my coworkers will come home and have something like a mini party and I ordered a bunch of pizzas and I am going to take them now and I need your help carry them.’’ She explained and walked towards you. It was a great offer and it was really a good sign for you to stop your studying because it was killing you to study now when outside it was a very good and sunny day.

You wanted to take fresh air and that was the reason why you nodded your head; forgetting simply the fact that she wanted you to go to the pizza place that was near your place and the fact that couple days ago you have a very stupid and embarrassing conversation with the employe there.

‘’Let’s go.’’ You told her and opened the door widely for her. You watched as your mom walked out and straight to her car before you walked behind her steps and sat on the passenger’s seat.

Five minutes later, you had already arrived at the pizza place and hopped out of the car still unaware of the previous days events and with an airy and comfortable manner, you pushed the door opened and walked inside with your mom right beside you. You stopped in front of the cashier and waited for someone to show up. As you were looking at the menu on top of the counter, you heard a very deep, handsome and masculine and extremely familiar voice. You didn’t dare to look up for two reasons mainly.

The memories of the phone call you had couple days ago flushed back to your mind and the heat shot up on your cheeks making them red and your tongue to be caught in your throat. And secondly now that you were hearing the voice clearly your mind flashed a picture of the guy that the voice belonged to and you couldn’t help but felt again nervous and at the same time happy to finally meet the guy of your dreams.

Grayson Bailey Dolan. Yes, the famous Grayson Bailey Dolan.

‘’Hello, how can I help you with?’’ He asked you or rather your mom since she was the one that was looking at him and not you. With a rather deep breath you looked up and your eyes met with the very famous and insanely attractively handsome man in front you, the stunning hazel orbs making your cheeks get even more red and those heart shaped lips made your knees to buckle.

He smiled widely at the fact that he caught you looking at him and repeated the same question. ‘’ Hello, how can I help you with?’’ You wanted to laugh at him; he was nervous and wanted to make a good appearance. You offered him a smile and as you opened your mouth to speak you closed it again but thankfully your mom saved your ass.

‘’I ordered a bunch of pizzas, ten to be precise, but I had time to come and get them.’’ She told him and Grayson turned his gaze from you to your mom and nodded his head.

‘’Yes, of course. Just let me check the order.’’ He assured her and grabbed the small notebook they had for the orders and with his fingers pointing to the orders one by one he checked them and when his eyes landed to the specific one and they widened before a wide smile appeared on his lips. ‘’Yo, Ethan, it’s the penis girl.’’ He screamed over his shoulder and to his twin brother.

Confusion radiated off your mom, the entire store stared at you, Ethan ran to the front and the only thing that went through your mind was ‘why couldn’t I have been born as a toothbrush’. It was the most embarrassing moment of your whole life and you couldn’t find the nearest cliff to jumped from. ‘’What are you talking about?’’ Your mom asked at Grayson obviously unaware of the mini accident you had over the phone with the guy in front of her and why Grayson, a complete stranger for you, was referring you as ‘a penis girl’.

You watched your mom and then your eyes traveled to Grayson who was stoned as well and was looking between your mom and you. You begged silently for him to not say anything and get you even more embarrassed than you already were. ‘’Um, I-I… nothing. It was a joke for my brother. I’m so sorry. Your order is ready. Just let me get the pizzas over here.’’ He rubbed the back of his neck and awkwardly walked to the back of the store as your mom turned her attention at you.

‘’Well, that boy is clearly over working.’’ She stated and you small laughed. “And in emergency of sleep.”

“Mom, that guy is a YouTuber. Didn't you recognize him or his brother?” You questioned her confused, deeply knowing that your mom was not into that kind of stuff, but tried anyway.

“Well, I didn't and I don't even know what we are talking about.” Just as she said that Grayson came back and all of them boxes of pizza were in his hands. He placed them on the counter and looked at the receipt.

“That will be 60 dollars, please.” He announced and your mom grabbed her purse and gave Grayson sixty dollars exactly before taking five boxes and signing you to pick the rest. You nodded your head and watched her leaving the store before your attention was brought back to the handsome male.

“Look, I'm so sorry about the other day. I just… I am not really comfortable with phone calls and I was really nervous about actually calling even though I begged my sister to do so and that was the reason why I said what I said. I was not messing around with you or anything. And I also wanted to say that I really admire you and your brother, I'm a huge fan of your channel and what the heck are you doing here?”

Grayson was watching you talking with a dreamful look and an amused smile while waiting patiently to finish your speech. When your mouth stopped moving finally he cleared his throat mastering a brave look before he talked. “Well, everything is okay. I knew it was just a misunderstanding and that was why I joked to lighten up the mood. I'm sorry if I put you in trouble with your mom while saying ‘penis girl.’.” He moved his hands while saying so and you could not help but smile.

“Yeah, cool.”

“And thanks for supporting us. And for your answer, me and Ethan are filming a video and we tried to be actual employees but we will stopped this today because we are going to destroy the place.” He giggled, his perfectly white teeth showing as he did that.

“Oh, cool.” You said again, unsure how to actually respond to that. Grayson's hand flew back to his neck, scratching it, before he spoke again.

“So, I-I was wondering. Do you, do you wanna go out sometime?” he was stuttering because he was nervous.

Your eyes widened at his question. The Grayson Dolan was asking you to go out with him? You, out of all people? Well, that was such a shock and probably a dream. There was not happening at all.

“I...I...I...yeah...I really want to go out with you.” You finally managed to say, while mentally face palming yourself because you were such a loser when it came to attraction men.

“Perfect. Here this is my number. Text me so I can have yours and we will setup the place, time and the date.” Grayson wrote his number in a piece of paper and handed it to you while having a wide smile plastered all over his face, lightening up all his features in the progress. “Also, I didn't catch your name.”

You looked up at him and smirked. “I didn't throw it.” What a turn of personality.

At the realization of your joke Grayson burst laughing, that contagious laugh of his earning a few glances from the customers, and then turned to you. “That was a good one.” he clapped his hands.

“Thanks. And it's Y/N.” You genuinely smiled while also blushing without a specific reason.

“That is a nice name. It suits your beautiful face just perfectly.” He complimented you making blush even more, you were so hot now that if someone would touch you they would burn themselves.

“Aw, thanks.” You replied and along with Grayson you had a staring contest before a loud horn echoed from outside the store probably your mother. “I gotta go. It was nice to see you in person Grayson.”

“Me too. Hope to see you soon.”

With that you left the store while grabbing the five boxes and your phone from your pocket and quickly texting Grayson.

-hey, it's Y/N. I would like a small date please. 😌

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan imagine #ethan dolan imagine #dolan twins imagine #grayson dolan fluff #ethan dolan fluff #dolan twins fluff

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years ago

Text

Monday 25 September 1837

6 ¾

11 40

fine morning – with A- at 7 ¾ in the north parlour till after 8 – then out about with Robert M- the last ½ hour till came in to breakfast at 9 ½ just before A- rode to Cliff Hill – breakfast and in and out with Booth till Holt came now at 11 and staid till 1 ½ - he seems now persuaded it is the dead water we have at the L.E.P. agrees with me, my uncle Joseph L- must have driven the drift to loose the coal he bought of Dr. Drake (in what is now Wilkinsons’ land) – had the estate plan and large plan down – explained and shewed Holt the line of great Mytholm throw he never knew so much about it before – is no convinced the L.E.P. ought not to be bottomed – thinks the 5ft. broad throw down in Pearson’s field near the E.P. not enough to keep back the dead water because the middle ban is driven quite thro’ at the end of the drift near Tilly holm stile – H- all for sinking the P.E.P. the 2 drifts from there to L.E.P. upper mine will be driven in a year – would rive one the main gate a good corve – gate 3ft. and the other 6in. smaller the vent gate 2ft. 6in. – the stuff to be buried inside – and the 2 drifts taken together to be driven for 2/6 per yard each that is 5/. per yard the 2 drifts – they would be done for less but not everybody would do them because it will be a wet job – would drive one of these drifts a good main gate because if I buy Dovehouse coal or, a great deal of coal will have to be hurried along this gate, viz. to vent the cross cuts to carry air for driving a straight main gate thro’ Dove house land – agreed that the P.E.P. could be vented as I proposed by a chimney at one end – and that there would be very little water so immediately under the throw (might be would be a little in the 36 yards band) .:. that the pit might be bottomed by Xmas for 40/. per yard would not be above 40 yards deep – the Long goit there 4 yards deep – so that pumping the water into it would leave 36 yards to pump, and at L.E.P. we should have to pump 32 yards – would have an engine that would pump 2 mine inch bore pumps tho’ thought with me that perhaps the present pumps might do – as soon as we had driven thro’ the throw, there would be coal for the engine – of course, the Engine would be wanted immediately on bottoming the pit if we could do without it till then – I think and H- did not deny that we might bottom the pit without it – calculated – agreed that the P.E.P. needed not delay the opening of the colliery as it would be done before the Incline – not to begin the latter till we saw the P.E.P. bottomed – the upper bed 17 yards deep near the brook at the Corner of Dodgson field next Mytholm Ing – the boring would take till next Saturday night – a 6 horse engine (like the one ordered by Holt) would burn ten loads a day a 10 horse engine H- would have at P.E.P. suppose would burn 20 loads a day (but it would not burn above 18 loads a day) would cost 5d. (if I had them to buy) per load – but I had enough of my own in Wellroyde land that field the footpath goes thro’ at the low end (low as to the coal stratum but upper as to the surface) near the house – above an acre than that H- himself would give a hundred guineas for – would cost 3/. per score getting and my own cart would carry them –

suppose 5 loads in a yard .:.

4840 x 5 = 24200/20 = 1210 days consumption at 3/. per day (i.e. per score) = £181.10.0

1210/365 = 3 years + 115 days consumption say 3 ½ years or at the rate of £54.9.0 per annum.

then there is the carting worth say (at least) 2/. a day - + the coal getting = £72.10.9 per annum but if I had the coal to buy it would cost me 5/. + carting 2/. = 7/.per day = or

in fact the coal is worth £100 per annum __________________ £91.0.0 per annum

Fireman at 16/. or 17/. per week say 17/: = £37.14.0 + £100 = £137.14.0 per annum exclusive of wear and tear – take there the expense of engine altogether at £150 per annum I said the great consideration was would the coal pay for this additional engine – would H- follow this plan if the coal was his own yes! I must do this or give up the colliery and this would not do after spending so much money – but H- says I may cover the wheel with a building to hold

SH:7/ML/E/20/0133

20 large worsted frames (that will certainly let for £18 a piece) for £500 18 x 20 = £360 H- to speak to Matthew Naylor the man employed by Mr. Akroyde and by most people about mills, and to bring me the result on Monday morning – he and Joseph Mann to come together then and let the matter be talked over and settled – H- said they had got £30DW. in Southowram in 10 years – and they cleared £50 per collier – at 1st they paid Mr. Waddington for the coal £50 per collier but there was no peace – W. thought the colliers got too much and H- that they got too little so they agreed to pay by acre – H- pumped the water by a water wheel which cost £600 putting down –

I must have 30 colliers to clear £1500 a year – and then said I, remember I have agency to pay – yourself bottom-steward and banksman and at 3/4d. per load (a farthing a piece) this would make a difference – yes! but said H- in such a large concern, less than that would H- agreed I ought to have 10 pc. on outlay – but said I ought not to put all to the colliery that was laid out on the meer and water wheel

suppose £100 of what is now expense to belong to the collier + £4000 to be laid out

= £5000 fairly to be laid to the colliery should yield £500 per annum.

30 colliers = 5 acres and at £200 per acre = £1000 -------------

this would do very well but I doubt that thus much 1500

would ever reach my pocket – nous verrons?

I certainly ought to make something of my coal-loose besides the coal itself

Mr. Rawson has now 13 colliers getting soft bed and 5 getting upper bed

can he clear £50 per collier? (H- had 10 colliers and cleared £500 a year)

talked over the pheying thro’ the old works to the whole upper bed coal – shewed H- that we should properly have 400 yards to go – then he would let it alone and I agreed – there would be a main gate to phey and wall and arch at 5/. per yard and a vent gate to phey at 3/. per yard and 8/. x 400 ? £160. same this for the present mentioned having offered Joseph M- Franks’ cottage at Mytholm

H- thinks ? he will not take it on account of distance from the mill where his daughter work and says a worsted mill at Listerwick would be a great advantage!

Summary Boring down to upper bed will be 17 yards deep and not done till next Saturday night

P.E.P. may be bottomed by Xmas 40 yards at 40/. = £80 towards which £50 saved it not L.E.P. bottoming

2 gates (main and vent) at 2/6 each = 5/. per yard for the 2 coal will pay for driving and rails

Listerwick wheel will turn 20 worsted frames at £18 = £360 building to cost £500

the Incline will cost £3000 + £1000 other matters + £1000 of what is already

expense = £5000 to be laid on the colliery –

H- cleared £50 per collier – I have agency to pay but less than ¾d. per load will pay it

Pheying 2 gates to whole coal in upper bed 400 yards at 8/. = £160. given up

on considering the line of great Mytham throw on the great plan as found in Lower place field called the Park, and on sinking a well near Northowram hall in Mrs. Lancashire’s land (ordered about for her by Holt himself) it seems that Wilsons’ engine is on the low side (dry side – easy side) the throw – he has only water to keep it going 6 hours a day – the throw that appears just above quarry house in Stocks’ quarries, and quite alters the stone, is probably the great Mytham throw? vide – about 1/3 of W-‘s coal seems to be above (west of) the throw, and if he drives thro’ the throw to get this 1/3 of his coal . he loses all the Northowram coal Stocks’ and the Long Companys’ etc. and must pump for them all – Had Holt from 11 to 1 ½ then stood musing over the large plan till 2 ¾ - then out about for ½ hour then till now 4 50 wrote all the above of today – making memoranda in rough book till after 5 –

washed and out at

out at 5 20 Thomas Pearson having sent for the new oak gate I gave him the other day – out about till 6 ½ - dressed – A- returned at 6 ¾ - cold and quite dusk – far too late for her to be out – dinner at 7 20 coffee (no newspaper) – A- and I upstairs at 9 ¾ - 10 minutes with her in her room then till 10 20 in my study looking at map of Spain – having read 32pp. (from p. 182 to 214) vol. 2 Anonymous travels in Gallicia etc- and account of the Basque provinces – interesting enough – fine day tho’ heavy shower between 12 and 1 – F48° now at 10 20 pm then till 10 50 read from p. 132. to 151 on fossil fuel and collieries

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matildainmotion · 6 years ago

Text

A Fairy Tale School, and A Chance to Change the Story

Once upon a time there was a very special school. It was the flagship Steiner school, the longest-running one in the UK, on the edge of a great forest. Let me tell you about it.

The grounds are stunning – great old oaks, rolling lawns, deer, a stream, an iron spring. The facilities are amazing – a big gym, a proper theatre, a huge vegetable garden, a carpentry workshop, even a forge where you can make a real sword which they showed us on the school tour, the jewellery, the axes and blades that students had made in the fire, like something straight out of a story. I could see my son, the proud owner of three lightsabres, being happy there. My husband and I are theatre-makers and writers: story is the stuff of our work, and here was an educational system with stories at its heart - fairy tales, fables, saints’ tales, Norse and Greek myths, shaping the curriculum.

So we went for it. Like many others we made momentous changes in order to bring our son, now aged 7, to this school, and in time my daughter too, now aged 2. My mother sold the family home after 55 years so that she could buy a small house in Forest Row where she and I and the children could live. My husband had to stay in London because of work – we’d see him at weekends and in the holidays. It would be hard but it was worth it, for the school. I have heard many similar tales – of people coming from much further afield than London, from Japan, from America so their children can come here.

To make such major changes people are following big dreams, high ideals, deeply held convictions. What are mine? I do not necessarily want ‘the best for my children’ – I think ‘best-ness’ is overrated. Coming from a family of highly powered Oxford academics I tried to be the best and get the best for many years and it left me in a mess. I want rather to give my children a good chance of coming out of school in one piece, whole, connected to themselves, to a community, not ready for the big wide world – that old narrative of adventure and conquest – but rather already in it, present in the world and ready to care for it and each other as well as they can in these uncertain times. Wholeness, community and connection, an ability to be vulnerable and to act from a place of integrity - those were the things I was after when we upped and moved ourselves here at the end of last summer, ready for the start of the new school year.

Very soon after our arrival on the edge of Ashdown Forest, full of hope, I was struck by the amount of cynicism I encountered. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised – where you find dreams that big, you are going to find disappointment on a similar scale. In the woods where Winnie the Pooh lives, there also dwells Eyeore: “Your son’s going to Michael Hall? Oh well, good luck with that – I hope he fares better than me, but I doubt he will,” – heavy sigh, returns to thistles and damp, lonely corner. The pessimism, juxtaposed with the optimistic dreams that also surround the school, have reminded me not only of Eyeore’s gloom but even a level up - the desperate, intractable situations found in many fairytales and myths: the most beautiful king’s daughter that has fallen terribly sick and cannot be cured; the monster that haunts the lands that were once full of wonder; the evil empire that is trying to take over the universe and kill off the amazing Jedi.

Meanwhile, sometimes all is well in the woods, the kingdom, the universe. Peace reigns. I have heard hopeful stories too. I was amazed and encouraged by how many parents are old scholars. I am much more used to the narrative of “I am never letting my child go through what I had to endure” than the story of “I had such a great time at school, I want the same for my little one.” My son was and is having a good time in class one. He is an intense lad, with big emotions and grand ideas, and so far the school have been very quick to respond to his needs and challenges. His teacher is wonderful and there is a gradually growing sense of community amongst the parents of the class. For all of this I am deeply grateful.

As far as I can tell, from the anecdotes I have gathered in the short time I have been here, the school is brilliant until it isn’t - until something goes wrong, until the monster/ sickness/ evil fairy turns up. I realize this is tautological – the problems begin when the problems begin – but problems will always show up, so the true problem is not the monster but how we respond to it. All too often our knee jerk response is to blame another, and with this ‘us’ and ‘them’-ness kicks in, the good guys and the baddies, the innocents and the guilty. First off, inside this story we are in, there is the parent body versus the school – ‘us’ being the parents and ‘them’ being the school - how the school does not listen and never changes. I have encountered the story the other way round too- the school versus the parents – the parents who are always complaining, ready to attack, but rarely listen, or turn up in low numbers when the school has tried to lay on an event in response to a parent request. I have also heard about internal ‘us’ and ‘them’ dynamics: the teachers versus the management and an iteration of the same story and Eyeore-like complaint, “They never listen. No one understands.”

I tried to learn more about the structure of the school and found it incredibly difficult. Even those who have apparently been here for many years could not easily explain to me how it actually operates. I gathered there were different elements- a council, trustees, an Education Management Team, teachers, office staff – but how these positions fitted together and ran everything remained mysterious, a kind of tangled thicket of roles growing around the mansion and keeping princes and parents from being able to break in and have any impact. I had come in quest of wholeness, connection, community, integrity and I was finding people who felt disempowered, fractured and stuck.

In the absence of any head teacher, a hallmark of traditional Steiner schools, from the way people talked ‘The School’ had become in itself a kind of mythical authority figure, hard to reach and impossible to change. I like a challenge and I am not very good at cynicism (though I do a good line in imagining terrible happenings and did, in fact, identify with Eyeore as a child) so I joined the Parents Working Group (PWG) to see if I could make a positive contribution to the school. I had spent the first term feeling like a failure as a Steiner parent because I cannot sew to save my life, had to buy instead of make my son’s crayon roll and could be of very little help in crafting anything for the Advent Fair, so I figured I had better find another way to play my part in the school community.

When I told people about the PWG and its aim to initiate and hold space for constructive dialogue with the school and support positive change, I was hit by a fresh wave of cynicism: “Ah, be careful the school will take all it can get from you, suck you dry and spit you out!”; “Well, good luck with that. You might make a small dent in its side but that’ll be it!” So there we have it – the school as the monster, the dragon that can devour you and that has such massive scaly flanks it can barely be dented, despite the beautiful swords that its pupils forge on its grounds. Or the school as an institution wrapped in creepers and thickets, under a heavy curse that cannot be lifted.

Enter stage right a strange knight in heavy armour with clipboards for shields and a knife of regulation, an outsider, called Sir Ofsted - hero or villain? He rode from the city to the woods, slashed through the thickets, confronted the dragon, gave Sleeping Beauty an “Inadequate” kiss – blessing or further curse? - and lo and behold we all woke up. And, as in the original story, everyone woke up: the kings, the courtiers, the cooks and the gardeners, the parents, the teachers and the management. After 100 years of Steiner education we all have an amazing chance to wake up and decide what happens now, shape how the story unfolds from here. Let me pause at this cliff hanger to introduce a new strand of narrative.

15 years ago my husband, Phelim McDermott, was feeling fed up. He works in theatre. He runs a company called Improbable, which makes big shows and tiny ones, with improvisation at their core. He had dedicated his whole life to theatre, he felt passionate about it, and he spent much of his time complaining about it. He was often angry about how it was carried out, about how people did not listen to each other and things did not change (notice the parallels to our other story). He was doubly fed up – frustrated by the ways things were done and frustrated by hearing himself moan about it but unable to do anything effective. He came across a book: Open Space Technology, A User’s Guide by Harrison Owen. It described a way for groups to self-organise around issues of shared concern, a way that was radically non-hierarchical, refreshingly playful, able to cut to the heart of complex situations really fast and allow truths to emerge and change to begin. He thought he would give it a go. It sounded like a good improvisation exercise. He followed the instructions in the book and wrote an invitation (step 1). He called it ‘Devoted and Disgruntled’ because that’s what he was feeling. It’s a good title and if I could I would steal it to use here at Michael Hall for all the many deeply devoted and disgruntled people whom I have met here. To his amazement and delight people responded to his invitation – about 200 people turned up (step 2). And it was incredible. Now, instead of the constant moaning, people were getting to work, fuelled by their passion and devotion, connecting, taking action, agreeing on change (step 3). 15 years later Devoted and Disgruntled has transformed the landscape of the performing arts in the UK. We have run literally hundreds of Open Space events under this banner, in every corner of the country and even overseas. We have an entire website dedicated to this great, unfolding conversation. Check it out: www.devotedanddisgruntled.com. Some people worry that it is ‘just’ a conversation, a talking shop – but almost all change starts with a conversation and an enormous number of actions have come out of our Open Spaces: shows made, companies formed, new initiatives, collaborations, even marriages (my own included) have emerged out of our events. It is an amazing practice, a brilliant tool – not a sword, but a circle, an open space.

Having witnessed first hand the impact of opening space on the UK theatre scene, how it harnesses the devotion and helps to shift the disgruntlement, I want to bring it here, to our school, now in this moment more than ever. I think it holds the power of a forge – the hot, glowing place that can make hard things soft and malleable again, where change and transformation is possible. And yet it is beautifully simple. You send out an invite. (I have done this– it was in the last Friday Flier (You can read it here: http://www.michaelhall.co.uk/friday-flier) People who want to be there come along. We sit in a circle and a facilitator explains how it works – anyone who wants to call a session can do so, by writing the title on a piece of paper and putting it up on the wall. Together we co-create an agenda. Then we get to work and we follow the magical and yet entirely pragmatic ‘law of two feet’: you don’t stay where you don’t want to be, you follow yourself and go where your time and energy will be best used, and only you know where that is. This is the radical non-hierarchy of it – the fixed roles can fall away and a new fluidity is possible. Not ‘us’ and ‘them’ but me and you, listening to each other and having a conversation on an issue about which we both care deeply and on which we both want to act.

There are many things that I am sure need to change within the school, but fundamentally, for me, the underlying shift that needs to happen is a cultural one. I think we need to start to model the sense of agency and possibility that I am sure we all hope the education is giving to our children. We need to wake up inside the story and notice how we are part of shaping it – we are not passive victims of a terrible curse from a wicked fairy or an evil dragon, or at least as well as playing the part of the victim, there are times when we also step into the role of the dragon, steam coming out of our ears, and curses falling out of our mouths. Notice these. And this fire, these strong words, whomever they come from – teacher, parent, manager - are not bad. They are potent, they are passionate and they are integral to our ability to bring about change.

When my son was in Kindergarten, at another Steiner school in London, he came home one day, in his first term, with a complaint. It was Michaelmas and they had been told a story about a dragon, “But the dragon didn’t do much! It wasn’t scary enough. They tamed it too quickly.” So there we have it. In opening space I don’t want to tame all the dragons. I want them to come. All of them. I want the dragons, I want the kings and the queens, the princes and princesses, I want the peasants, the wicked stepmothers, the caring fathers, the confounded leaders, wise teachers, the witches, the wolves. If you identify with any of these roles, please come. If I have left your role off the list please come and put it on there – make sure it is part of the story. Because right now we have an incredible opportunity to shape what happens next – this is in fact always true, but thanks to the dubious Sir Ofsted we just all managed to notice it.

I am not looking for a happy-ever-after ending. Or even an ‘outstanding-ever-after.’ I want what I wanted when I and my family decided to move here: I want connected-ever-after. Actually even ‘ever-after’ sounds like rather a high demand from which we might all come crashing down with a sense of failure. I will settle for connected-a-good-deal-of-the-time, whole as much as possible, in community through the rough and the smooth. What do you want? How do you wish your story and the school’s story to unfold from here? I am inviting you to come and tell me, and others. Because telling is the beginning of making. Making is the start of happening. The details of the dates and the times are here- http://www.michaelhall.co.uk/pwg- I look forward to seeing you there and to hearing your tales and those of others – the more diverse the better - and to us creating a new one together.

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