#front porch balusters

[momoppi]

Traditional Porch massive, magnificent front porch image

[medienschoepfer]

Porch Philadelphia

Beautiful front porch image

[giftiaa]

Porch Front Yard (Philadelphia)

[deisegal]

Traditional Porch (Portland)

[zvetenze]

Mănăstirea Horezu, galleries from courtyard

Horezu, Romania

The buildings that form the western perimeter of the main monastery compound include arcaded galleries at two levels, the refectory with parecclesion (with cupola), and a projecting bay with ornate porch (Dionisie's High Porch) overlooking the western front of the church. Carved stone columns and balusters contrast with the whitewashed plasterwork of the walls. (photo 2000)

[iepurasdepraf]

Part 3! This one is a little shorter because I wanted to establish a little more personality.

As Jonathan Crane loomed over you at the foot of those old dusty stairs, you could only compare yourself to an overfed pigeon cuddling up into the breast of a falcon while you eeked out your silly little questions in meek squeaks "Is there anyone there who'd like to communicate with us?" You held the audio recorder up a little higher "Can you give us a sign you're here?" Your nerves made you want to chatter. Speak quickly, loudly, and nonstop so you clamped down on your bottom lip to shut yourself up the best you could between questions in the attempt to give whatever was there, if it was there, the chance to speak. As much as you hoped something responded, you hoped nothing did even more.

"The door opened." Fuck your life. You looked around. Not seeing which of the several existing doors right off the bat, Crane kindly added "Upstairs." Sure enough, the door at the top of the stairs had at some point opened. You didn't see when. It was closed earlier when you had approached the stairs. You loved that. You loved that for the both of you. You didn’t know you could experience being sarcastic to yourself, but being pants shittingly terrified was apparently pumping blood to portions of your brain that heretofore had been unactivated. You put your foot on the step, but didn’t go up. 

Instead, you leaned back until the back of your shoulders pressed just slightly into Crane’s abdomen. It took a moment of absorbing some of his confidence through osmosis to finally head up the stairs to the landing. You had to stand on your tippy toes to peek over the edge between the balusters. You could see a little into the room from the dull moonlight coming in the window through the old lace curtains. There wasn’t anything obvious in there that you could make out. “I don’t see anything.” You said turning to find Jon exactly where you expected him for once, standing partially beside, partially behind you. He’d quietly come up the stairs to join you and see for himself. Your hand bumping his free one when you reached out for comfort in the dark without thinking. You pulled back at the last second of course, not wanting to invade his space. He hadn’t withdrawn which was enough comfort in itself as a gesture. 

He didn’t need to stand on his tiptoes to look. You were only slightly jealous. All you got in the way of feedback was a hum. He was taking advantage of the full spectrum in the viewfinder. Looking into the room then back to the screen. “I thought the window would be open.” Is all he said about any of it. That would make sense, especially with the draft. “Maybe there’s another window?” A head tilt. Maybe he was considering it. Maybe he just had water in his ear. You didn’t know. “I’ll…go have a look.” “Mm.” You were beginning to subconsciously categorize his noises and that one registered as a “Yes, that’s a good idea.” noise. It felt far from that.

You had just stepped into the hall from the top of the stairs when you realized it had been a terrible idea to go stand in the creepy dark hallway. A quick look down the hall to the left with your flashlight revealed there were more rooms on the first floor than you thought. Two on either side of the hall to the left of the stairs that might be bedrooms and one at the far end that logistically made sense to be a bathroom. It was comforting to focus on making a mental map rather than go wandering into the unknown. To the right of the stairs was the open door and at the very end of the sort of loft area there was a window. You could see through the yellowed drapes you couldn’t see anything at all. Just a void. You knew the woods were out there somewhere and it being that dark out there meant that the porch light had finally turned off between you closing the front door and managing to get up here.

You could only fidget and procrastinate for so long.

Huffing at yourself for being right you gingerly eased the mostly open door the rest of the way. Having to switch from a few fingers to the palm of your hand when it didn’t budge on the first push. Needing a little oomph to go the rest of the way. There was another window, it was closed. There wasn’t much else in there. A rusty old bed frame without a box spring or mattress, bedside table that had a vintage lamp sitting on it, sans shade or light bulb, and some kind of old dresser that had an inch of dust on it. “There-” You nearly jumped out of your skin. It wasn’t that he’d moved or anything when you turned around, but there was a creep factor to just seeing him leering through the railing at you. “Jesus Christ-” You cleared your throat and once more that jack-o-lantern smile was by far more creepy than his generally unreadable and eternal resting bitch face. “There’s another window, but it’s closed.”

He tilted his head slightly as if puzzled “Funny.” Oh, super funny. Sure. A regular riot. The look you were giving him must have telegraphed that you didn’t find it funny because his smile dropped. He did, however, make an weird little hrmhrmhrm noise. Like a laugh, but not really. A laugh’s twice removed cousin made weirder by how he could do it without emoting. Sounded like a noise a gremlin would make. Maybe a gremlin was making it? “I’m glad you’re having fun.” Crane shrugged and quickly turned his attention to the viewfinder. He didn’t want to admit it? Or wasn’t? Could he have fun?

Back on task, if you wanted to prove anything to Crane, you’d have to rule out everything you could. You looked the door over with your flashlight. The wood seemed swollen, cracking around the mortise plate. The humidity was high. It had been raining the last two days. Maybe it just hadn’t closed all the way? You look down at the floorboards. They ran out from the room to the hall all the way to the ledge instead of being cut at the doorway with a transition. Could you two standing at the bottom of the stairs tilted the woodwork enough to make the door open? A little rube goldberg machine-esque, but maybe. 

“Could you go to the bottom of the stairs for me?” Crane’s eyebrow went up, but he nearly seemed eager to go along with whatever you were up to judging by how quickly he acquiesced to the request. As he’d been from the jump, strangely. You shut the door, he went to the bottom, and nothing happened at all. “A few steps back?” Thump, thump, thump. Nothing. So you opened the door just slightly. “Ok, and again?” Thump, thump, thump. Again, nothing. “Try a hop?” He made an incredulous noise, but sure enough there was a not so soft thunk from behind you. Door didn’t budge though. 

“Huh.” “What?” Well,” You pursed your lips and move to stand at the railing to look down at Crane while trying to think of any other test you could do on the spot. “I was trying to recreate the door opening. The wood is swollen from the weather and I thought maybe the floorboards could have moved when we were walking around, but it didn’t work. Even when the door wasn’t closed all the way.” He looked mildly impressed, probably because you didn’t jump to it being ghosts right off the bat. It felt like you’d hit a fear plateau or maybe nothing was as scary as what was standing at the bottom of the stairs at this point. Crane offered a shrug as you leaned against the railing, resting your elbows on it. “Got any ideas?” He rolled his eyes thoughtfully around then just gave you that crooked smile and held his hand up. Couldn’t think of anything? 

You tsk’ed him and got a snort for your trouble. Well, time to disappoint the Professor. “Can you open this door again for us?” You asked, holding your audio recorder up. Neither of you moved for a few seconds, you held your breath. Nothing happened. “Anything open down there?” He looked around then shook his head no. Disappointed, you turned back to the door. How was there a draft if all the windows were shut? All the doors? There wasn’t a fireplace. There was a wood burning stove down in the living room, but the chimney was the typical pipe kind. It couldn’t do it, could it?

Now you were frustrated, so much so your fear was subsiding. You believed in ghosts. You wanted to turn to him and say ‘See! SEE! I was right! Months of arguing and I was proven right in the first hour!’ but that was too easy and this proved absolutely nothing. It proved the door opened and it was weird. Neither of you could substantiate it for either side.

You’d have to keep trying.

[oldbutnotyetwise]

A Promise Made, Not Kept

     I spent thirty-one years Policing in a economically challenged city with a population of over a half million people.  During that time I was involved in thousands of investigations, as you might expect, some of those investigations are forever etched into the fabric of who I am.  What follows is one of those stories.  My exceptional recall of the circumstances is because this is one of the calls that still haunts me all these decades later.

     I spent the first eight or nine years of my career as a front line uniform officer and that was where I was working when I was dispatched for this call.  All these years later I can still picture the house that I was dispatched to on that nightshift.  It was in the downtown core, a two storey red brick home with a white front porch badly in need of paint, in a litter strewn neighbourhood that had seen better days and was still on the downward slide.  It was the first house on the east side of the street behind what had at one time been a large car dealership. 

     The call was for a suicidal female so there was some urgency to it and I recall arriving there first.  I went in prior to my backup arriving, upon entering I observed the stairs to the second floor were on my right, the front hallway led to the dark kitchen at the back of the house, the sparsely furnished messy living room was to my left and behind the living room was the dinning room which where I found her.  The glass had been smashed out of a cheap China Cabinet and the woman sat there at the dinning table, tears streaming down her face, bloody slashes to both wrists and up her arms, blood stained glass that she had used on the table in front of her.  She was not aggressive, she was not threatening, she was just someone drowning in her own despair.   Let’s call her Mary.

     The ambulance arrived and did what ambulances do, I had explained to Mary that she was going to the hospital, not going was not an option.  My backup had arrived and as I was updating them in the front hallway I looked up and saw those scared little eyes peeking at me through the balusters on the staircase.  I am guessing she would have been about four years old, dressed in a white flannel nightgown with small flowers on it.  I guess all people coming in and out, and the noise from police and ambulance radios had probably woken her from her sleep.  Let’s call her Louise.  I went up the stairs and sat down near where she was hunched down.  Sitting down avoided me towering over her, I was sure that she was scared enough.  I don’t remember all of our conversation but I remember holding her hand and looking her directly in her eyes when I told her that her Mom wasn’t feeling well and that I was going to take her to the hospital where the doctors would make her feel better.  I told her that everything was going to be okay and she would see her Mom again soon. I told her that her Dad was coming to pick her up for the night.  I then went back down the stairs leaving those wide innocent eyes watching me.

     While my backup stayed to await the father’s arrival I followed the Ambulance up to the nearby hospital that had a Psych Assessment Unit.  In those days it wasn’t uncommon to spend most of a shift in the Hospital E.R. waiting to have someone assessed by the Psych Department.  Normally it was a two officer job but the streets were busy that night so I told my backup that I would be okay on my own.

     The process at the hospital for such things is that first the person has to be medically cleared, the Emergency Doctor speaks to the person we have brought in for 3 or 4 minutes before agreeing that they need an Psych Assessment.  The problem is in a big city E.R. it usually took between two and ten hours for the E.R. Doctor to see the person, depending how busy they are.  

     After getting past the Triage Nurse, Mary and I were allowed to wait in one of the treatment rooms.  It was a busy night in the E.R. so I figured we were going to be there for a while.  I like to think that I am good at talking with people and it wasn’t long before Mary and I fell into easy conversation.  I learned about her failed relationship with Louise’s Dad, and her struggles as a single Mom trying to make things work.  The more we talked, the more the walls she kept around her slowly came down.  I came to know Mary and a lot of her challenges.  Like many, Mary didn’t trust Police, but as the minutes turned to hours I could sense that I was slowly gaining her trust.  

     Obviously I had to remain guarded about what I shared about myself, but a few tidbits of information did much to help her understand that there was a human person behind the badge.  

     Like so many others Mary had had some contact with the Police, she had some alcohol and substance abuse issues, but as her guard came down I got to learn about her as a daughter, a sister and a mother.  Yes she was a broken person, but she was a good person struggling to do her best in the unkind world she found herself living in.

     After seven or eight hours Mary and I were like old friends, talking easily, even sharing the best meal we could put together from the hospital vending machines.  Our time together had helped bring her out of the dark place I had found her in.

     The E.R. Doctor finally came in, I still vividly recall her, a pretty young greek woman with dark curly hair down past her shoulders, maybe in her early thirties.  She spoke with Mary for all of two or three minutes and then informed me that she was releasing Mary.  I asked about the Psych Assessment but she told me that Mary didn’t need it and then walked out of the room.  Prior to this I had brought many, many people in for a Psych Assessment and never ever had I had the E.R. Doctor decline to send the person for one.  I was just a lowly Police Constable, certainly not in a position to argue with a Doctor.

     Mary assured me she would be okay, and although it was against protocol I offered to drive her back home.  As she got out of the car I gave her my business card, told her not to be afraid to contact me.  I had reached the end of my nightshift and I returned to the station before heading home to bed.

     I returned to work that night and as I was heading into the briefing room an officer from the opposite squad stopped me and told me that Mary had killed herself during the day, jumped to her death from a bridge.  My business card was still in her pocket.  I felt like someone had just hit me in the centre of the forehead with a sledge hammer.  Survival as a Police Officer means that it is wise to stay detached from people and circumstances, but I had let myself care, and now it hurt me to my core.

     I was seething as I went out to my Cruiser and drove back to the hospital where I found that pretty Greek Doctor and I told her that I wanted her to know that the lady she had refused to admit last night had killed herself today.  She then looked at me and said she was surprised that Psych didn’t admit her ……and I just stared at her while she looked back at me, both of us knowing that she was lying, that she hadn’t sent Mary for the Psych Assessment.  I then turned and walked away, there was nothing more to say, Mary was dead and there was no bringing her back.

     So why does this call still haunt me all these years later, it’s because I promised sweet little Louise that the doctors would make her Mom better and that she would see her again soon.  It was a promise made, but not kept.  

[tumblirus]

Rose Street Brown Shingle with symmetrical front porch and balcony that share the pattern in their balusters (2023-02-26)

[alt3rl1fe-electriclady]

I.

The glitz and the glamour were all that came to be of June's life by the time her twenty-seventh birthday arrived. A star at the age of eight, flashing lights and big names seem to grasp her, her life by the neck; giving no indication of letting go. Tonight the hold seemed to feel tighter as they sang Happy Birthday and she cut the cake. For a moment then, June imagined herself to be Pollyanna's dog. As a child, whenever she came over Polly's house next door, the dog was always there tied to one of the front porch balusters. Sweet old Choco then would try to approach and play with June, only to retreat as the leash tightened and the distance between him and the baluster grew. Of course, unlike June, Choco would soon bite Mr. Farley's hand as he tried to move him to another place, and into who-knows-where he runs off to; never to be seen again. Not that any of the Farleys bothered to look for him anyway. As a child (and even now sometimes), June often imagine the dog found by a nicer, caring family. She envisions him laying on the couch with them, or playing fetch, or on a nice walk. Anything really but the more realistic thought that in a town like theirs, poor Choco probably lived the rest of his days on the streets- sniffing garbage bags for food and eventually dying on the road with CPV.

It's February 19th, the outside pavement of her apartment building filled and practically spilling onto the busy road. Drivers probably hate her now, June thought to herself. Of course, if one of them ever bothered to get out of the car, walk past the lobby, ride the elevator, and berate her there would be no bone in her body to apologize. Her brows too were furrowed, eyes narrowed at the sight, her arms practically glued in their position folded within each other. If it was bad for them, think about her- they're waiting for her. Thirty minutes ago she still felt horrible as she imagined Lawrence sitting in the booth by himself. No doubt waiting for June's arrival before ordering even just a drink. However now, the frustration and rage have blinded her the only thought she has is how nice it would be to jump off the window towards them below and have these stupid paparazzo be scarred for the rest of their lives. She believes she does have the guts to do it, but unfortunately a very sweet man awaits her at The Tarot. It would be very rude to not only stand him up but also kill his wife on the same day. With another angry honk from below, June grabs a coat and heads back to the party downstairs. Expecting every single one of them to be predictably in their own me-worlds within each other, as fast as she can she heads towards the elevator. A sigh of relief as she rests her head on the wall comes out, with the doors slowly shutting itself- a short lived moment of limited peace as a hand sticks itself in-between. An unfamiliar face meets June's glance, one she took effort for, raising her head for her eyes to meet his.

"Leaving so soon?"

"I felt quite a disappointment, I expected the first slice to be given to me."

With such boldness, she raises an eyebrow in response. June took advantage of the comfortable silence they seem to share and studied this man's face some more. Trying so hard, but she really just can't seem to recall him if she knew him. If she did know him she definitely would have remembered him- his face was not one to forget. Then again, she meets loads of people everyday perhaps the age is coming up to her.

"I'm sorry, have we met before?"

"Believe me, if we did, you never would've forgotten it. Just like you won't forget this."

She believes him, but she doesn't tell him that. He seems to have already quite the ego and she was not about to inflate it more. They stop at the eight floor. With a small smile for her, he steps out and walks into the hallways. For a minute June is tempted to follow him, to know him, but it's only with her eyes does she do and keeps her legs stay put at the same spot they've been on this entire ride. Somehow his smile told her this wouldn't be the last of their meeting. A very brief smile, almost routine, as if he'd be giving it to her til the end of their days.

As she's walking past the revolving door, her eyes have already settled on Lawrence. No hint of disappointment or anger on his face which makes her worry. Does he really understand or is he just done? It's not the first time something like this has happened, and the question arise in her head; but still in the three years of marriage she did not want to breathe life into them and actually get the answers. The have to skip the first three courses, he explained. All that's left now is the main course and dessert seeing as they're to close soon (and turn into a speakeasy with the entrance through the kitchens, but everyone pretends not to know that). Throughout the entire meal various conversations took place but one was held in the back of June's head. Why was he not at the party? It was her birthday party, somehow a few old childhood industry friends even arrived- ones she hasn't seen since the age of eleven, yet somehow her husband was nowhere to be found. She could've asked, it was very easy to ask. She would ask and Lawrence would answer, he's an honest and kind man there would be no issue. Yet the entire dinner, she did not ask. It was only after the dinner, the gift, and carriage ride in the park, when they got back home to the brownstone, getting ready for bed that she did ask him.

"I'm sorry, truth is I found out of the party last minute. I came from the studio and wanted to make it to the restaurant before we lost the reservation"

"You could've just paid them extra to save it. I really wanted you there, I barely knew anyone in there."

"I didn't think you would take long to be honest. Like you said, you barely knew anyone there."

"Look, June I'm really sorry. I admit it was a wrong on my part. Please forgive me, I'll make it up to you starting tomorrow."

June walks over to kiss him "You can make it up to me now."

Pushing him onto the bed, she did wonder suddenly if she really wanted him there. Then she thought of that man, and wondered how different meeting him would be with her husband by her side.

"What's on your mind?" Lawrence whispers, his face tucked in her neck, him between her.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Good, focus on me then."

Whispers of A Town That's Seen It All

Stories are passed through generations in a distant coastal town where once an unforgettable woman lived to leave the chaos that came to being herself.

[justagirlinafandomworld]

Season of the Witch VI

Story Masterlist Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Witch!Reader Chapter Summary: You go back to capture the suspect. Chapter Warnings: Language. Violence. Written for @thefanficfaerie​‘s Spooktacular OTP Challenge. Day 6 – Front Porch Word Count: 434 Divider provided by @firefly-graphics

You returned to the house the next night.

Alone.

You sat upon the railing that wrapped around the front porch and let the shadows claim you. This move was risky, not because you were confronting the target alone, but because Steve had let you. The glance shared between Sam and Natasha had not been missed.

You just had not cared.

It was well into the night when someone approached. A lanky figure in a hooded jacket and skintight black jeans. He ascended the steps with his hood drawn low over his head, but you could feel the charge of his energy. A bitter green that had you slipping down from the railing, the porch creaking under your weight.

“Hello, Mike.”

But he had already turned to you at the noise. Cracked lips parted and hands pulled out a long silver knife. His eyes glittered in the dark and he didn’t waste time on questions. He took quick strides towards you, knife slashing.

Teeth grit and breath caught; it took both your hands to fend off the arm with the knife. He had you pushed against the railing; a hand yanked your hair back to reveal the expanse of your neck. Your face exposed in the silver light of the moon.

“You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened; he pressed against you harder.

“Yeah, we know who you are. The great witch reduced to a living of parlor tricks. You should have stayed with your head in the sand like a good little witch.”

Fear sparked into anger. Your fingers moved, repositioning and tightening their grip. Just as the heat began to sizzle his skin, just when doubt started to creep into his crystalline eyes, he was yanked away.

Catching yourself on the railing, it took a moment to realize it was Steve’s back in front of you. He had Mike by the neck, his feet dangling uselessly in the air. 

“That’s no way to treat a lady.” Steve growled into the man’s face.                        

Mike laughed, cruel and loud even as Steve’s grip tightened around his throat. 

“A lady? Oh, Captain, has she got you fooled.”

You stood to your full height, power crackling around your hands. Before Steve could react, you slammed a wall of magic into Mike, knocking him out of Steve’s grip to slide across the porch and crash into the balusters.

“You’ll have to forgive me.” You stepped around Steve and with one hand keeping him pinned, you twisted the other so that ribs cracked and popped. “After years of parlor tricks, I’m a little rusty.”

←part V                                                                    part VII→

[governorspalace]

Governor’s Palace

The essential residence is two testimonies under an excessive deck-on-hip roof on which rests a tall two-story cupola. There are two most important dependencies a story and a half high, with steep gable roofs and quit chimneys. These enclose the forecourt and are spaced one hundred toes apart. They are joined to the house with the aid of curtain walls with crenelated copings.

The foremost block is fifty-four through 60 and is five bays vast and four deep. In the rear the Ball Room wing, conceals the authentic fenestration, but it is assumed to have been same with the front. The facade, or south front, has a core door with two windows on either side. The two closest the door are grouped to it, the others being broadly separated. Above the front door is a window with hinged panels below, opening onto a balcony. On the east facet the 4 home windows on each floor are symmetrically spaced. On the west side the symmetry is disturbed by a door in the 2nd bay from the right. This used to be the provider door between the kitchen and the dining room. The decrease home windows are three lights large and eight lights excessive and the upper three and seven.

The heights of the openings are different according to the stage of the window head. The possible variation, however, was decreased to a few inches through the discovery of a fallen fragment of a brick window-arch. This showed the full depth of the flat arch with its jointing and skew-back as nicely as a part of the string route above, for that reason bearing on the window head to the 2nd flooring line. The arches of the top windows are presumed to have come to the backside of the foremost cornice. The hinged panels under the window, allowing egress to the balcony, were referred to in the eighteenth-century archives of the Palace, when the hinges have been modified to swing out instead of in.

The graph of the primary cornice is conjectural but characteristic of the period. The 5 dormers on the roofline with the home windows under are of the hipped-roof type. The balustrade around the deck was designed after that on the Bodleian plate, but rather of the inverted-vase type proven thereon an ordinary turned baluster was once used. The cupola follows in format that proven on the plate, and the trim used to be stored as simple as possible. The solely departure from the proof was in the use of a weather vane modeled after one of these at “The Mulberry” in Berkeley County, South Carolina, rather of the pennon kind used so a lot in current English architecture.

The brickwork of the governor's palace is laid in Flemish bond in accordance with a sample of walling that was discovered embedded in the ground to the west of the building. This not solely gave the bonding but additionally the color and texture of the brick and of the mortar joint, and the profile of the latter. The foundation of the front and facet stair were found, collectively with fragments of the stone. The new steps are of Portland stone to suit the old.

If the elevations of the Ball Room wing no representations remain, and the foundations largely survived. Aside from sketch and spacing of windows the elevations are conjectural. The present gable roof with pediment quit was designed to be almost an authentic Classic pitch, however the ridge was raised, occasioning the high pediment end. The coat-of-arms in the gable are merely conjectural. The wooden roll-moulding is a reproduction of a fragment discovered at Rosewell that escaped the fire. The narrow rear platform used to be indicated by using a basis wall and by means of documentary evidence that spoke of the benches on the lower back porch. The pierced wrought-iron newels are copied from one determined at the College building. The interiors of the main constructing are also conjectural without the mantels, of which the design is based totally on fragments found in the excavations. From these, two true mantel designs may want to be deduced, one being the white and purple mantel in the southeast parlor and one the marble facing of the southwest eating room. The former is shaped of pilasters and a frieze inlaid with pink marble, the latter containing in the core a inlaid panel. The facing is lavender red in the eating room with a cream fluted keystone. Pieces of the key and the adjoining going through have been found. The mantels in the corridor and State Dining Room appoint old profiles determined in the excavations, however the fragments were so incomplete as to forestall a reassembling of the designs.That of the latter is primarily based on the mantel in the East Room of the Peachy-Randolph house.

The Palace now has a central corridor extending half of way via the building, with a rectangular room on either side. The corridor leads to a giant stair corridor in the rear in which the stair ascends to the west. It is constructed between a powder room and pantry and therefore does not have one aspect free as traditional however rises between paneled walls. To the east of the stair hall is the State Dining Room, the biggest room besides for the Ball Room and Supper Room in the wing. The right-hand partition in the entrance corridor had no foundation, and this may additionally as soon as have been a large salon as at Shirley.

There used to be no proof for the trim of the dependencies, and all is new besides the antique mantels in the east building. The the front doors are designed after these at Four Mile Tree in Surry County. Under the east building the stays of a small vaulted room was found, perhaps for authorities documents.

Conclusion

The present conditions of the governor's palace in Williamsburg, VA are good, rebuilt; only foundations original. Thus, it is such an attractive place to be.

Please visit one of our partners' website.

101 Visitor Center Drive, Williamsburg, VA 23185

Take a gander at this next.

[rocketwerks]

English Village

3418-3450 Grove Avenue

Built, 1927

Architect, Bascom J. Rowlett

VDHR 127-0374

June 2020

Housing ahead of its time.

(Newspapers.com) — Richmond Times Dispatch, Sunday, July 10, 1927

The sales prospectus of English Village citing "...the new lifestyle ... while enjoying all the amenities, including privacy of single house living ... with an atmosphere of social respectability..." lt reads like a contemporary advertisement for carefree condominium ownership, yet the ad is over fifty years old.

(Newspapers.com) — Richmond Times Dispatch, Sunday, July 10, 1927

Incorporated April 14, 1927, English Village was designed as a cooperative community both for economy and for efficiency while at the same time maintaining a gracious lifestyle. The Village by-laws, still in force, state that "it is the purpose and object of this corporation to maintain and operate the property in English Village on a mutual and cooperative basis.&. without any profits or other gains or remuneration to the corporation, excepting assessments made as hereinafter provided necessary for the upkeep and expense of maintaining the property and providing heat and hot water to the seventeen dwellings located in English Village."

(Newspapers.com) — Richmond Times Dispatch, Sunday, July 10, 1927

This cooperative planned comity was a radical experiment in housing for Richmond as well as for the rest of the country since most of the multi-family housing constructed at the time were apartment complexes in the city or rowhouses in the suburbs.

While many different types of cooperatives in this country enlisted members at the beginning of the 20th century -- credit unions, agricultural co-ops, retail consumers, workers' productive, insurance and others -- cooperative home ownership was a fairly new concept in 1926. 

(Newspapers.com) — Richmond Times Dispatch, Sunday, July 10, 1927

At that time, articles appearing in popular periodicals extolling the merits of cooperative apartment ownership, and in 1928, an article appeared in Arts and Decoration entitled, "Cooperatives: the New Way of Buying a Home." The reasons behind cooperative homeownership, the author said, were that they were "...cheaper, more desirable, more flexible in plan... owners realized a savings in rent . . . they had a voice in management." This philosophy had already been espoused by Davis Brothers a year before in their advertisements for English Village.

(Newspapers.com) — Richmond Times Dispatch, Sunday, July 10, 1927

Unlike most of this country's housing co-ops of the 1920s which were built for the working class by industry, philanthropists, or non-profit governmental agencies, English Village was built in the fashionable Grove Avenue neighborhood for the upwardly mobile middle class by private entrepreneurs. According to an article in the real estate section of the Richmond Times Dispatch dated January 23, 1927, English Village would have all the latest modern conveniences including: separate garages; electric refrigeration; community heating; a parked entrance-way as well as "a janitor and cook service on the cooperative plan.

June 2020

Advertised by Davis Brothers as "English Architecture al; its best," the Village was designed by Rowlett, a lesser known Richmond architect, who was noted for a number of fine residences and apartment buildings in Richmond in the 1920s. Reminiscent of the Shelby Apartments of Kingsport, Tennessee, built in 1926, Rowlett's Tudor Revival mannerisms lent variety to the multi-unit complex.

June 2020

Designed for economy, efficiency, and permanency of building materials without sacrificing aesthetics, the Villas is composed of seventeen attached units two-and-a-half stories high built of brick walls, a distinctive water table, buttressing, prominent gables, and half-timbering in some of the second-story gables. The overall appearance is that, of asymmetry yet the plan is symmetrical with each half being the mirror image of the other. The plan consists of a symmetrical main block and two wings extended forward at each end of the rectangular main block. The wings are asymmetrical but mirror images of each other. 

June 2020

The off-centered doorways are capped with 'Tudor-arched lintels made of cast concrete embellished with designs of lions heads, coats of arms, grape vines, and the diaper motif. Some of the door surrounds are quoinwork of cast cement made to look like stone. The Arts and Crafts philosophy is apparent in the treatment of the doorways. 

(The English Village)

The doors are board-and-batten with stained-glass windows and wrought-iron strap hinges and thumb latch door handles and knockers. Fenestration on the first and second floors consists of a variety of window shapes and sizes; round-headed windows with leaded stained glass, small narrow rectangular leaded stained-glass windows with label moldings of cast concrete, and metal casement windows set in groups of two's and three's.

June 2020

The cornice in the second story is small and molded. The lines of the gray slate-covered hipped roof are broken by shed dormers, stepped gables, gable ends, some of which have jerkin heads, and large decorative chimney stacks. The focal point of the building is the main block which faces the central courtyard.

(VDHR) — 1983 VDHR nomination photo

The horizontal lines of the main block are interrupted by the vertical lines of the prominent central gable with second-story half-timbering and the vertical thrusting of the chimney stacks flanking either side of the gable end. The one-bay entrance porch again reflects the Arts and Crafts era with its heavily turned wooden posts with brackets and carved acorns and slate roof. Except for this rather ornate porch, Rowlett gas somewhat restrained in the use of ornamentation, but rather used quality materials for color and texture. 

June 2020

The brickwork is laid in Flemish bond with a tapestry-like pattern in the gable peaks. Cast-cement recessed panels with molded coat of arms designs are also located in the top of the gables. The gutters and downspouts are made of copper. Other uses of ornamentation include a distinctive brick beveled water table which serves, visually, to tie the units together, and brick corbelling under the eaves on the gable ends.

June 2020

The south, east, and west elevations fronting Grove Avenue present the formal side of the Villas, while the north, east, and west elevations facing the rear alley are more utilitarian and resemble the typical rear elevations of rowhouses in Richmond. The plain rectangular common brick walls of the first and second stories are laid in common bond.

June 2020

Simple hoods with brackets shelter the rear doorways. Fenestration consists of 6/6 lights with double-hung sash. Each dwelling has its own private tiny rear patio or garden area enclosed by a picket fence. "Modern refrigeration" boxes are still conveniently located near the back kitchen doors. The furnace room and four-room apartment for the custodian is located on the northwest corner on the rear of the building facing the alley. Seventeen attached brick garages with metal shed roofs are located on the north side of the concrete paved alley.

(Newspapers.com) — Richmond Times Dispatch, Sunday, July 19, 1927

The interior plan which varies slightly for each unit was designed for comfort, convenience, and efficiency and for a servantless lifestyle. One enters through an interior vestibule dimly lit by stained-glass windows. Tudor arched doorways lead from the living room to the dining room to a compact galley-type kitchen at the rear. An open stairway on one side of the living room leads to three bedrooms and a porcelain tiled bathroom upstairs. Some living rooms are equipped with corner fireplaces with cast cement Tudor styled mantels and terra cotta tiled hearths. 

(Newspapers.com)

The original mantels were left unpainted to resemble carved stone, however, most of the mantels have been painted over. The ceilings are low with coved ceilings in the hallways, living rooms and dining rooms. Party walls are constructed of cinder block with a stucco finish. The walls were originally painted a cream. The woodwork, including the two-paneled doors with glass door handles, door and window trim , stairway newel post, handrail and turned balusters, was originally stained a dark oak. The creamy walls and the lighter red oak floors were meant to contrast with the darker tones of the doors, windows, and trim.

June 2020

The original landscaping plan consisted of fir, spruce, elm, and hemlock trees combined with ornamental shrubs and lined with terra cotta patios and walkways. A water fountain graced the central courtyard. The circular drive was paved with brick. A playground was located in the northeast corner of the lot behind the buildings. Brick walls enclosed the grounds with a gateway leading to the driveway.

(The Cultural Landscape Foundation) — Charles Gillette

In 1947, the original landscaping plan was altered by Charles Gillette, a Richmond landscape architect. The fountain was removed and replaced by the present flagpole. The driveway was paved with asphalt and the playground no longer exists.

June 2020

The corporate structure and by-laws of English Village Corporation were much the same as that of Garden Homes Cooperative in Milwaukee, one of the first cooperatives in the country, built in the early 1920s. The homeowners in both cases bought shares in the corporation. Besides paying for stock, the homeowners also paid a rental sufficient to cover interest, taxes, insurance, depreciation, repairs and maintenance. But while the home ownership was collective in Milwaukee with no clear title to the property, English Village stockholders retained clear title to their individual properties similar to today s condominium ownership.

June 2020

Since its beginning in 1927, the business of English Village Corporation has been transacted at an annual meeting, or special meeting; if needed, with duly-elected officers and a board of directors managing the property. Each stockholder is assessed one-seventeenth of the total expenses for the maintenance and upkeep of the buildings and grounds.

June 2020

During the depression many of the early owners lost their homes through mortgage foreclosures. However, by 1934, the deeds indicate that all the dwellings were once again owned by families who resided there. The Robert L. Atwell family, original owners of one of the dwellings, managed to hold on to their property and still retain it to this day.

June 2020

English Village Corporation no longer contains all of its restrictive covenants, but it does retain an important one in the original by-laws which has helped maintain the architectural integrity of the building. Homeowners are restricted from making any changes to the exterior of their individual homes which would constitute a departure from and in contrast to the original architectural plan and design of the village structure as a whole. English Village, a product of the era of community consciousness, functionalism, and the Garden Cities ideal, remains an excellent example of an early 20th-century planned cooperative community. (VDHR)

June 2020

A thing of beauty is a joy forever, and that goes double for English Village, still looking good at 93 years young. That’s also true of Architecture Richmond’s write up on this unique Richmond location, a worthy read.

(English Village is part of the Atlas RVA! Project)

[takingcourage]

Bring to a Simmer

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 2,200

Summary: Arden attempts to make the inaugural batch of ‘Dad and Arden’s Stroganoff,’ but with Jaime around, staying focused is more easily said than done. 

Note: This is just a silly little oneshot inspired by some optional dialogue from the “remembering mom” diamond scene in Chapter 13. I thought it could be a fun premise for a story, especially with a side of Jaime Lewis there to spice things up. Gosh, I’m going to miss this book. 

This also fulfills a request I received for kiss prompt #8 (the playful kiss on the tip of the nose). 

“I’ve got the onion sliced, pumpkin.”

Up to her elbows in flour, Arden looked over her shoulder toward to check her father’s progress at the breakfast table. “Great! I’ll bring the mushrooms over in just a minute.”

Turning her attention back to the recipe card in front of her, she mashed at the sticky dough again. It never looks this way on Bake Off, she considered, worrying her inner cheek against her teeth. But then again, they’re usually making pastry, not pasta. The thought made her feel slightly better, but she still had very little faith that the pasty substance before her was going to end up resembling anything close to her mother’s stroganoff noodles.

She pried one hand away from the clumpy mass, grimacing at the feeling of her very messy fingers sticking to the paper of the flour bag. How had her mom always managed to make cooking look so easy? Even a simple four-ingredient pasta dough was enough to tempt Arden toward a delivery service.

It’s not about the finished product, she reminded herself. This is about remembering mom and making new memories.

Picking at the excess lumps of dough from between her fingers, she wondered how she’d keep her father involved in the process once all of the ingredients had been chopped. His leg had been particularly bad today, which meant that he couldn’t spend much time on his feet without his trusty cane by his side. Unfortunately, canes and cooking didn’t mix particularly well.

“Can you see Jaime working out there?”

She smiled at his inquiry, lifting her eyes momentarily to catch a glimpse of the man at their fence line. “Yep, he’s hard at it. You’ll be really happy with how it looks, dad. I promise.”

“Your mother would have put me in the dog house if she’d seen how bad I let it get. I just…” His voice grew wistful as the sentence trailed, and Arden had to take a deep breath to steady herself.

“It just didn’t seem as important without her around. I think she’d forgive you.” 

The front yard had been a point of contention ever since her mother had fallen ill. Melinda Gale had always taken great pride in her plants, the perfect picket fence, her trailing ivy – all things that Harry only tended to on her behalf. In recent years, the yard had been gradually falling into a state of disrepair. 

Thank goodness for Jaime and his powers of persuasion. He’d been gently nudging for several months, and after coming home from the hospital, her father was finally ready to accept the offer. Arden was just glad that the matter had been resolved without too much nagging on her part.  

That’s not all I’m grateful for, she mused, sneaking another glance out the window. 

She’d known Jaime was attractive for years, but if possible, he’d grown even more gorgeous to her in the past week. Maybe it was because she’d been out of work and had had more time to appreciate him. Maybe it was because she’d seen every inch of him on the night after the gubernatorial debate and knew exactly what was hiding underneath those work clothes. Or maybe it was because she loved him. That word still made her pulse skip every time she thought it. 

Beyond being very nice to look at and prompting irregular heartbeats, he was also incredibly skilled at repairing fences. In a single afternoon, he’d managed to replace the missing and broken pickets, paint the entirety, and purchase new balusters for the front porch. His abilities seemed to go on without end. 

Arden’s own talents felt questionable at the moment, though her hands were becoming less laden with dough the more she rolled and patted the clump into submission. She gave it a final smack, drawing her hand away slowly to determine whether the consistency was ready for rolling.

Although she’d never assisted her mother in the process of making dough, she did have an idea, more or less, of what the final result should look like. The mass on the counter wasn’t an exact replica, but she didn’t think that her attempt was too far off.

At the table, her dad inhaled a sharp breath, but it was several long moments before his words came. “I’m glad you talked me into this, honey. I think your mom would probably get a kick out of watching our struggles in the kitchen.”

“So do I.” Smiling faintly at the thought, she sidestepped to the sink and began the chore of cleaning her hands.

“And she’d be even happier to see how well you and Jaime are getting along these days." 

Arden yanked the kitchen towel a little harder than intended, causing the cabinet door it hung from to squeal in protest. 

Her father clearly needed something else to keep him occupied.

Carrying in the colander of button mushrooms, she set them before the man without a word. As she traded him for the plate of onion slices, she caught the mischievous grin slanting its way up his face. 

"I’m not as blind as you think I am, Arden.”

“I know.”

“And he’s been looking at you like he wants to haul you off and marry you." 

She knew that too. 

Thankfully, her back was turned by in time to hide the blush spreading over her cheeks. "We’re still figuring things out,” she answered evasively. Pulling the largest pot from the oven drawer, she set about filling it in the sink.

“I know I promised not to tell you how to live your life anymore, but he’s the only man I know who’s good enough for my Arden.” She ought to just kiss him sometime. She’s been half in love with him since they were kids. 

Arden pretended not to hear his thought or his comment over the running water. Her father might claim to have seen things, but he’d missed an awful lot of kisses that had passed between them in the last couple of weeks. Beyond that, he didn’t have the faintest idea that she’d spent the night next door after the insanity of the debate. As she waited for the pot to fill, she snuck another look through the glass.

Jaime was removing his shirt.

Her skin flushed again at the sight of his toned, tanned body. Her hands ached to glide along those perfect abs – to wrap her arms around his neck so she was pressed flush against the heat of his chest. Sleeping with him had been incredible. Waking up in his arms, nothing short of divine. 

They hadn’t discussed their plans for after dinner, but maybe she could talk him into another sleepover…

With a start, she realized that the water was spilling over the side of the pot. She drained the excess quickly, vaguely aware of the sporadic sound of chopping coming from the breakfast table.

Her father didn’t say anything, but there was a distinct twinkle in his eye when she returned to the table with the beef. 

_____

 Thirty minutes later, she’d managed to produce something that vaguely resembled stroganoff. Arden counted it as something of a marvel that she hadn’t given up the whole cooking endeavor in favor of just standing and staring out the window. She knew he wasn’t doing it deliberately, but Jaime had been putting on quite a show.

Wielding a paintbrush, standing back to consider his work, wiping his brow – everything he did set her blood on fire. As the evening had worn on, the pan before her received less and less of her attention. The sight through the window had proven too tempting for her to resist. 

His work on the fence complete, Jaime had switched to trimming the bushes in front of the house. As he skirted around the plant, she caught his eye. Arden sucked a breath at his wink.

"I’ll be right back,” she promised her father, hardly taking the time to make sure that he was still cutting romaine hearts for their salad.

Jaime’s eyes were on her as soon as she passed through the door, the shears falling to his side. “The view from the kitchen wasn’t enough, I see. Did you decide it was time to get up close and personal?” 

She rolled her eyes. When she looked up at him again, she was taken aback by the glisten of sweat all over him. With his chest mere inches from her face, she could discern each perfectly sculpted ab, and her fingers twitched with longing at her side. Arden wondered idly how much it would scandalize the neighbors if she started making out with him in her father’s front yard.

Still not prepared for this view?

She reddened at his thought as their eyes met, his sweaty hair obscuring vision from one side. “I’m still getting used to...” she gestured vaguely at his stomach, much to Jaime’s amusement. “But I actually came out to give you a dinner update. It all just needs to simmer for about twenty more minutes and then we’ll be ready to eat.” 

“I’m looking forward to it. I should reach a pretty good stopping place shortly, so I’ll have time for a quick shower before we eat.”

Arden’s mouth grew very dry at the appealing mental images his suggestion graced her with. Distracted, her gaze wavered from his face for a moment – not long enough to satisfy her desire, but certainly long enough to attract his notice.

"You keep looking at my chest, Arden. Is everything okay?” Not that I mind. I’ve only been hoping for this for years.   

Knowing she’d been caught, Arden dropped all pretense and stared openly. She sighed and lifted her face to his. “I’m just thinking again how much I’d like to kiss you right now.”

Jaime bristled with pleasure. “You wouldn’t get any complaints from me if you did, but I am pretty sweaty at the moment. We should probably wait until after dinner.”

Someday, she’d have to tell him that she didn’t mind him being sweaty. In fact, she’d found sweaty kisses with Jaime to be extremely enjoyable just a few nights before. With that memory in mind, she was inspired. “Can I just have one for now?” 

He ran a hand through his hair, uncovering both eyes. The deep brown pools were gleaming with equal parts humor and desire. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Arden tilted her chin, lips poised and eager for contact. Jaime’s mouth was warm and soft as it descended on hers, the salt of his sweat making her relish the experience even more. Body responding of its own volition, she had to pinch herself to keep from throwing both arms around his neck. Even after he’d pulled away, it took a moment for her to regain full control of her senses.

Just as her head cleared Jaime caught her by surprise, leaning down a second time to brush his lips gently across the tip of her nose. 

She wrinkled the bridge instinctively. “What was that for?”

“I couldn’t help it,” he explained. “You’re just so damn kissable, Arden.” 

“So are you. Please tell me there will be time for more kisses later?”

“I was hoping you’d suggest that.” He stretched out his free hand, skimming the pads of his fingers along her forearm. 

“The mind-blowing, earth-shaking kisses that are full of ten years of pent-up desire?”

He chuckled at her description. “You know those are my favorites. And I don’t have any plans for the rest of the night.” 

“Mmmhmmm.” His little half smile was doing funny things to her stomach. It wasn’t long before she’d lost all track of what he’d been saying. 

Should I put my shirt back on? 

His thought managed to get her attention, and she recoiled. “Don’t even joke about that. I’m enjoying the view way too much.” 

“You can enjoy it as much as you want after dinner.” 

“That feels like too long to wait.” She took another step toward him, forgetting both sweat and propriety in her need to touch him. 

“Arden,” he cautioned, though she knew from the yearning on his face that he wasn’t going to tell her no. 

Was that the door?

His thought corresponded with a click from the porch, followed by the beat of her father’s cane.

Their heads swung toward the doorway where Harry Gale stood, watching them both with an arched brow. Maybe she doesn’t need my encouragement after all... After taking a moment to collect himself, he announced, “Your pan boiled over. I got it off the burner, but I’m not sure what to do next.” 

Arden stared at him dumbly. “I was just….I, um.” She swallowed hard and forced her thoughts away from the man beside her. “I’ll come figure it out.” 

Her father retreated back to the house, leaving her alone with Jaime once more. 

“Go do what you need to do with dinner. I’ll finish up here and be in in a few minutes,” he told her, trailing a finger along her inner palm. Before she could pull away, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“See you then,” she promised, breaking the link between them. As she hurried up the porch stairs, she decided that an addition to her mother’s recipe was in order: 

Step 1 - If Jaime is outside, close curtains on the kitchen window. 

[twilight-zoned-out]

So I get that the Disney-FOX deal didn't get through in time for Infinity War, Antman/Wasp, or Endgame, but I was so sad they couldn't do something like this for the end credits of Antman and the Wasp:

Camera cuts to Clint, who's on the porch, talking to Laura; you can see his ankle monitor. She goes inside. There's a slight breeze.

Then the breeze intensifies in a way Clint almost recognizes. A blue and silver blur solidifies at the front of the steps, laughing, despite being kind of a mess.

"What?" Pietro gasps, supporting himself on the baluster. "You didn't see that coming?" 

End Scene.

[omnistory000]

Spooktober - Day 8 - Haunted House

More Ladywitch/Cursed Cat AU!

Ao3

As one of the chosen witches to act as a Guide this year, she knew she could not fail.

~~~~

“Looks like this is the place,” Marinette mused, looking back and forth between an address written on a piece of paper she held in her hand and the rickety old house she stood in front of.

Chat Noir pressed himself against her leg, letting out a concerned mrrow in response.

“Don’t worry, kitty,” Marinette reassured, bending down to scratch behind his ear. “I’ve done this before. I’m just here to get them across safely.”

Marinette was chosen to be this year’s Spirit Guide, an important position that oversees the safe passage of stray or lost spirits into the afterlife. This was usually for spirits dwelling in houses set for demolition, as they would be left wandering once their homes were destroyed. In previous years, she had only been chosen twice, but she picked up on it rather quickly.

“Now, let’s get going,” she said, putting away the paper and making her way up the porch steps. The wood creaked loudly under their feet, each step taken with precaution.

Once in front of the door, Marinette splayed her hand out against its surface, a ripple of light spreading out from beneath her palm. The door fell backwards directly off its hinges, landing on the floor with a loud thud!

The witch carefully stepped inside the dark space with her feline companion following after, an orb of flame igniting above her palm as she held up her hand. She then let the orb float above them, illuminating their surroundings.

One way led up a flight of stairs while another led down a long hallway with a set of doors. Marinette would have to walk through every room of the house to make sure no spirits were left behind.

But first, she had to find the host spirit.

“Ladybug? Are you Ladybug?”

Marinette’s gaze shifted over to a little boy that was sitting on the bottom stair, shyly holding on to a baluster.

He definitely hadn’t been there before.

Next to her, Chat Noir’s eyes were on the spirit as well, his hackles rising but not hissing.

“Hello,” Marinette greeted with a friendly smile. “You’ve heard of me?”

“People have been saying that there was a nice lady with pigtails and blue eyes going around and helping others. Said that her name was Ladybug.” The boy’s eyes brightened. “Is it… Are you here to help us now?”

Marinette’s smile softened and she nodded. “Yup.”

“Oh, awesome!” The boy stood up, excited. “Follow me, Miss! The rest of my folks can’t wait to meet you!”

He then ran up the stairs, disappearing into the darkness.

Marinette exchanged a look with Chat Noir before following. As they made their way up the steps, she waved her hands in front of her, summoning another orb of light. This one was pulsating with a softer glow, and she held it directly in her palms.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, they looked around, wondering where the little boy went.

“Ladybug, over here!”

The two turned to see the boy waiting in front of a door, beckoning to them. Once they obliged, the boy phased inside, the door slowly creaking open afterwards.

It was a bedroom, and it seemed much darker than the rest of the house, more stifling. The boy, however, continued to call out cheerfully, “Hey, everyone! Ladybug’s here!”

Little wisps of light with hair-thin tendrils poked out of their hiding places, curious as they drifted out into the open. They then swirled around Marinette excitedly, each pulsating at random times.

The witch embraced their whispers, listening intently as they told brief stories of their own. Some even played with Chat Noir, acting as makeshift kitty toys so he could bat at them.

Once all the spirits in the room were gathered around the two, the little boy beckoned for them to follow him to the next room.

This went on in a cycle of repetition. For each room the little boy led them into, spirits would come out and greet them, joining their growing procession. By the time they were going through the rooms downstairs, the house seemed a lot more lively.

After every area of the house was thoroughly swept for spirits, Marinette gathered them all outside. Being out in the open seemed to uplift the spirits a bit, and some of them even swayed with satisfaction. The little boy himself seemed to relish the freedom from the stiffness of the house, his eyes closing with a relieved slump in his shoulders.

Marinette smiled at their contentment before looking down at the orb in her palms, its glow having gotten brighter. She then closed her eyes and began to chant, her voice echoing despite whispering.

Chat Noir kept himself pressed against her leg as a breeze began to pick up out of nowhere, circling around her and flowing through his fur.

The orb pulsated faster and faster, increasing the longer Marinette chanted. This went on for a few more minutes before she stopped and immediately let the orb drop from her hold.

It sank through the ground, leaving a rippling aftereffect that created a glowing white circle marked with ancient runes. Marinette stepped slightly away from the center, allowing a bright undulating light to filter through.

She then made eye contact with the little boy, gesturing to the light.

“This will lead you to the other place,” she explained. “I’ll see to it that you all get there safely.”

The little boy immediately nodded, smiling widely. “I trust you. And thanks a lot, Ladybug. Come on, everybody!”

He stepped forward, reaching for the light. The minute his fingers made contact, his form faded away, the light brightening for a second before dimming back to normal again.

Slowly, the other spirits followed suit, each one disappearing in a burst of mist upon touching the light. Marinette encouraged the ones that were hesitant while Chat Noir took the more fragile ones on his back and walked them over to the light himself.  

As the last of the spirits departed, a gust of wind suddenly bursted from the entrance of the house, where a shadowy figure rushed at one of the remaining ones.

Marinette quickly slid in front of it and summoned two more orbs, one glowing yellow and the other glowing red. She hurled the yellow one first, watching it shatter upon contact and freezing the figure in place.

“Begone, demon,” she spat before launching the red orb, shattering it against the figure’s face.

The Hellspawn bursted into flames. Its cries of agony were otherworldly, inhuman, slowly fading as the demon disintegrated into ash. Little remained as it stopped smoldering, and once deemed safe, Marinette finally turned to gently usher the residual spirits into the light.

She paused as the last one briefly wrapped its tendrils around her fingers in gratitude before entering the afterlife, making her smile. She then bent down and planted her hand directly on the circle’s center, chanting a few short words.

Slowly, the wavering light shrunk down and faded, and the light of the circle dimmed until it completely disappeared.

As she straightened up, Chat Noir climbed his way up to her shoulder to nuzzle her cheek, purring deeply.

“Hehe, thanks, chaton. I’m all right,” Marinette reassured, stroking the cat’s fur. She then looked at the seemingly empty house, expression resolved as she noticed the dark aura still seeping out from the doorway.

“Looks like it’s time for a blessing.”

~~~~

Fun Ladywitch AU trivia fact: Marinette’s title is “Ladybug, the Witch of Material Creation.” She can create things as long as she has the base materials for them, no matter how small the size or amount is compared to what’s required. For creating non-material type magic, she uses her own raw signature magical energy as a basis, which leaves her exhausted for a few days afterwards.

However, she mostly prefers to make her creations by hand.

[hockeypiner]

Front porch

#Front porch professional

#Front porch series

Regardless of the style you decide on, make sure you adhere to local building codes and implement your porch ideas safely. To keep your views from being obstructed, glass is always a good option (plus, all of your gorgeous decor won’t be hidden from neighbors). For industrial or modern styles, consider metal railings, or sleek horizontal cable railings. For an intricate showstopper, go with a custom sawn wood design that will instantly give a Victorian vibe to your space. Alternatively, traditional turned railings give a more classic look and will surely make your space sturdy for years to come. Try turning those same vertical posts diagonally or varying the spacing to create unique patterns. While you can always go with simple vertical balusters for a more craftsman look, there are tons of other porch designs that will make your railings pop. What type of porch railings should I have? The railings, or balustrade, you decide to use can help set the overall style of your porch design. In general, all of them have a predominantly traditional feel, so you might try a patio or deck if it doesn't fit your desired style. Adding a front stoop is a quick way to enhance your curb appeal, and is a less expensive option as well. Wraparound porches takes up quite a bit of yard space and often require a change to multiple areas of the house, while small sun porch designs out back are a little less tedious. A typical one is integrated into the roofline, so keep that in mind that you’re likely looking at an expensive remodel. What kind of porch should I add to my home? The size and type of your house porch is primarily dictated by your budget, space and overall look. As you browse porch ideas, keep in mind that yours should feel like an extension of the home's interior. Today, porches are making a comeback as homeowners look to channel those relaxing days with front stoops and wraparounds. Please contact us for more information and to discuss how we can support your organization and the people you serve.Generations ago, the porch was where all the action happened - a place to converse with neighbors, cool off in summer and watch kids play in the yard. workshops are offered to organizations using a sliding fee scale to ensure equity and accessibility for families and children in our community. They may be included in after school programs, summer camps, programs for at-risk youth, and a wide range of events for youth and adolescents.įront Porch A.C.T.S.

#Front porch series

The workshops can be offered as a series of classes or as a free-standing 45-60 minute workshop. classes and workshops are offered to children and adolescents 5 to 19 years old.

#Front porch professional

Our trained facilitators include professional actors and improvisers, behavioral health specialists, school counselors and teachers, youth workers, and community volunteers equipped with the knowledge and skills for creating a safe, supportive, and fun learning environment. program is implemented in Savannah through a collaborative effort between Front Porch Improv, Chatham County Safety Net Planning Council, Savannah Chatham County Public School System, Gateway Community Service Board, and other community partners and volunteers. uses the evidence-based Trauma Drama curriculum - an immersive group intervention - designed to integrate the core components of complex trauma intervention with youth and adolescents. is a community-based program that engages youth and young adults in cooperative play activities, improv techniques, and theatrical skits to promote opportunities for self-expression, cognitive flexibility, creative problem solving, conflict resolution, and enhanced sense of personal agency.įront Porch A.C.T.S. Adolescents & Children Transforming Savannahįront Porch A.C.T.S.