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storiesandthingsofthatnature · 1 year ago

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Chapter 1: Let’s Begin

Hi there! I have NEVER really posted on this blog save for reposts. This is supposed to be a side blog for stories and after many years it shall become one! I am currently working on a few stories with ocs and this one is for five nights at freddy’s. Basically a young woman named Stella has been hired by Freddy’s Mega Pizzaplex and finds herself in an interesting relationship with SunnyDrop and MoonDrop. Here is the first chapter of the story. Reblogs and likes are my life blood and help me keep going! comments would be nice too! :D Thank you! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There had been many red flags from the jump, the ad itself consisting of sketchy info and a vague description of the jobs’ responsibilities. From the looks of things the money that was spent for each print seemed to have been dumped more so on the graphics and sub-categories of shameless plugging for their merchandise and other affiliated products/businesses. The fact that Stella was never called in for an official interview and was only contacted to be told she had gotten the job and they would need her account info and her basic identification with no other context should have been the deal-breaker. No background checks. No further inquiries on past jobs. Yes, many red flags lay piled near her feet. Yet she simply stepped over them and walked into a place of nightmares. However, in the beginning, she was quite relieved she hadn’t been grilled so thoroughly. She wasn’t sure what this establishment truly looked for in an employee, but she was sure that one look at her record would have been enough for an immediate no. It always was with every other job she tried to snag. Although her history was not that of crime, her rep sheet was enough to portray that she was no good. Homicidal tendencies. Manic depression. Her paranoia led her into a trove of trouble and misunderstandings that ultimately ended in her termination from the company. She meant well! She did. But, being her age she was still trying to figure out who she was. She didn’t mean to be so bleak but right now she’s grasping at straws. Being a young adult she wasn’t prepared for the responsibilities that filled her already overfilled plate of things she was unable to do on her own. It was pathetic. She relied heavily on her small group of “family”. Albeit, it only consisted of four, herself included. However, the other three did end up coming together to discuss Stella’s mental state. She had just recently been laid off for the fourth time in two months. She was fried and with no reason to go outside, she was left to slowly fall into madness surrounded by the same four walls. They agreed that she needed to get out and even went as far as to search around for suitable jobs or side errands that would accommodate Stella's “mental disabilities.” And now, here she was, an unmoving rock amongst a continuous tide of patrons and various employees. There never seemed to be a day when Freddy’s Mega PizzaPlex was ever slow, let alone barren. However, she was told that the overnight security shift would be the right fit for her; little to no human interaction and management are more lenient on “professional” etiquette. Taking in what seemed to be the umpteenth deep breath that day, she forced her legs into motion. The way to the office felt like a fever dream - as though she was on autopilot. Nothing seemed real but, at the same time, everything was surreal. No matter the workplace, her inability to function in the most basic of public spaces is cause for alarm. Before she knew it her hand wrapped around the cool metal door that led into the main office. She approached the desk, a middle-aged woman behind an arched row of monitors. Stella wondered how she could keep track of anything. Then again, she most likely didn’t have ADD. Her hands fluttered on the lip of the counter, Stella having a hard time even announcing her presence. But she couldn’t stay like this for too long. Either she was going to be met with silence from a none-the-wiser employee and labeled as a creep/idiot on the security cameras, or they were going to awkwardly meet each other’s gaze which would then add to Stella’s aura of inner tension. So, after giving a few thrums of her fingertips along the cool, colorful surface she found enough courage to give a small clear of her throat. The sound of fluid typing ceased and Stella did her best to keep her anxiety at bay. She needed to be normal. “May I help you?” Stella chewed on her lip,” I-I’m Stella? Stella Salazar. I have an appointment with an officer Steve?” She sucked in a sharp breath, a very unneeded paranoia engulfing Stella while the woman behind the counter searched up her name. “Ah, yes! Thank you for coming in. I’ll go let him know. One moment.” She gave a small smile, the woman disappearing into a backroom that was shielded by shelves adorned with various Pizzaplex merchandise. Having some time to herself, even if it may be moments, Stella took the chance to reflect. Manic Depression is one thing but to have the title “homicidal risk” is something that Stella never would have imagined weighs so much. No one needed to find out. Well, the ones that had no business in the matter whatsoever. However, she was starved - emotionally and mentally, mostly. She was given opportunities to open up to many people and amongst her confessions, her homicidal tendencies would fly right off of her loose tongue. After this, it always ends the same. They say they completely understand. But who feels the same with anyone when one finds out they have impulses to kill things with no provocation whatsoever? It’s slow. The disconnection. Their excuses became more frequent and what used to be so intricate in its design slowly turned into half-assed lies that Stella became far too tired to even acknowledge. Then, she’s on her own once more. She was wondering when her current friend group would inevitably do the same; realize how fucked up Stella is and come to the logical conclusion to distance themselves from a walking disaster. It was a matter of time, she was sure. Fingernails dug into the soft pads of her hands, Stella gnawing on her lip. No matter how long she is going to be welcomed, she needs to help out in some way. So, if they offer her this chance then she is going to take it with the utmost gratitude. She could be homeless. Why wasn’t she…“ Ms. Salazar?” Her last name ripped her away from her self-loathing, an automatic smile filling in her once tense grimace. “That is me!~” She chirped. With shaky legs, she followed the receptionist to the back. They passed through intricate hallways covered with posters of each mascot. Random plushies could be seen on the window ledge for each office. Some seemed to be more biased than others, considering a few had a plethora of Roxy merchandise. Something within her felt that perhaps that wasn’t a good sign. But she was brought out of her immersion by a rather energetic and boastful voice. “Ms. Salazar, is it?” A middle-aged male walked up to Stella and shook her hand with a firm grip. Out of habit, she looked away, eye contact a problem that she was currently working on. “H-Hello. And yes, it is.” She retracted her hand quickly, the motion not going unnoticed by the ever-vigilant Officer Steve. However, it was probably a sensitive topic considering. So. he made an internal deal to get to know Stella and find out her backstory. It was said that no one can escape the curious mind of Steve Henderson. “Pleased to meet you! I’m Steve Henderson, aka, Officer Steve. I’m the head security officer for this Megaplex location and I’ll be conducting your appointment this afternoon. Please, have a seat.” He led her into his office and motioned for her to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk. She took a seat, Stella placing her backpack next to her on the floor. Twitchy fingers clutched around her knees while her right gently tapped from the soft children’s music that floated into the back office. “Just one moment while I get all the necessary papers.” He said with a smile, the male bowing over to search through his bottom file draw. While he mumbled to himself about organizing his papers better, Stella took the time to idly look at the overly decorated office. There wasn’t a particular theme; it seemed that whatever item he received from this place made its way to display here. There was no bias either, with an equal amount of PizzaPlex paraphernalia strewn throughout the small space. But then she noticed the two plushies of both MoonDrop and SunnyDrop. She tilted her head slightly, a fond smirk playing on her lips. She loved SunnyDrop for as long as she could remember, the mascot coming to life in her younger years. She had a lot of SunnyDrop-related merchandise, Stella having an internal battle earlier on whether it would be weird if she came in her Sunny Hoodie. But, in the end, she decided against it and came in a loose-fitting sweater. But then there was MoonDrop, a character that came a little after SunnyDrop’s debut. When she first saw him on TV, she was told that she had cried all night. Present-day he still gives her the chills but at least she doesn’t have night terrors anymore. “Spotted them didja?” She jumped in her seat, gaze returning to the officer. “Uh…Yeah.” She gave a breath of a laugh. “Sorry.” He gave a laugh of his own, “ Please, no worries! I don’t mean to show any bias but I will say that befriending them both was a real challenge.” That caught her attention, Stella wanting to ask for him to expand more on it. But was beaten to the punch by Steve. “Well then.” He smacked his hands together and rubbed his palms. “Let’s begin!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Stella had only been exposed to a quarter of her new workplace and already she was overwhelmed. However, after years of schooled suppression, her anxiety was left to pool within her very core. Something to add to the firepower of her approaching breakdown, but now just wasn’t the time to mull over what will be. She needed to pay attention. She transitioned back to reality, her “guide’s words becoming coherent once more. “...really, no kidding. Anyways, the next place on our little tour is the daycare! Does the name SunnyDrop sound familiar to you?” The older male asked, head cocking slightly towards Stella. The smaller gave an affirmed hum. “Course! He hasn’t been around for long but I love his design.” Stella mused. “Though, I will admit.” She continued with a breath of a laugh. “His counterpart is a tad creepy.” Her confession was met with a hearty laugh. “Completely understandable! Quite a few of the other employees feel the same. But, in my opinion, he’s a shy introvert who is very misunderstood. When one thinks of the dark, one can’t help but affiliate it with bad things. But! I gotta tell ya. The daycare is a sight to see when it’s dark.” Stella eyed the other with interest, the male’s voice laced with that of fondness. “You and MoonDrop sound close.” She couldn’t help but say. Steve simply nodded coupled with a small grin. “Being a “veteran” of this place, I’ve grown very close with each animatronic. I couldn’t help but try my hand at befriending every single one of them, even if they are very apprehensive at first.” He said with a small chuckle, his face expressing that of a past, pleasant memory. Before Stella could inquire further, the sound of playful children’s music caught her attention. They stopped in front of a large set of double doors. They looked heavy and sturdy which mimicked the appearance of safety, the very thing an establishment like this wants parents to feel. To provide them enough peace of mind to spend their money freely for both themselves and their children. Steve stepped up, his hand in a fist as he knocked on the left door. He then stepped back, the large male unable to suppress an excited grin. “He is a hoot, you’ll see.” His excitement was contagious and already Stella could feel her pulse quicken beneath her olive skin. The sound of bells could be heard, each jingle growing in volume as something approached the double doors. It was then Stella heard the familiar voice of the jovial sun jester. “Oh, goodie! Friends! Who could it be, who could it be?” Their innocent quip was enough to make Stella’s heart squeeze. The left door was opened with enthusiasm, and the head of SunnyDrop immediately peeked around to see who had come to his daycare. “Officer Steve! What a pleasant surprise! You usually don’t come by until well into the night!” It felt like every sentence from Sunny ended with an exclamation point, Stella unsure of how he was not exploding from the amount of energy swirling within him. “We got a newbie tonight. I’m showing her around, introducing her to everyone.” Steve stepped aside as Stella unknowingly shuffled behind the male so Sunny wouldn’t look at her. But now she was in the limelight and the fact she was new sent Sunny into an energetic spiral. “New friend?! Goodie!!” The sun jester opened the door further, the music from the overhead speakers spilling out further into the lobby. Out of habit, her foot gently tapped to the beat of the simple song, the action not going unnoticed by the animatronic. But they said nothing as they danced around the female, sizing up his new friend. “You’re very pretty! What’s your name? Is that your natural hair color? Oh, I like your eyes!” The amount of attention she was receiving was too much and she looked at Steve for help. Picking up on her silent SOS, Steve stepped in to gently pry away Sunny who was currently staring into Stella’s icy blue eyes. “Sunny, boundaries. Remember what we talked about?” Suddenly, Sunny did a back step and elegantly landed on one foot. “Right! My apologies.” He scratched at his faceplate in a sheepish way, a blush a fitting addition for the situation if Sunny held the ability to produce one. “But those questions still stand!” He placed his hands behind his back, a feigned sense of proper etiquette encircling the ever-smiling animatronic. Stella took a moment to recall his questions,” My name’s Stella. And yes, it is.” She patted at her loose bun, the female choosing to come into her first day of work in casual attire considering she was simply receiving the grand tour for tonight. Her hair was dark but when in the right lighting you could see the gleam of dark purple within the highlights. And in the right conditions, the hue of ruby red could be seen amongst her ends. Her skin was a honey color, a great contrast to her freezing eyes. Her pupils were ghostly and to some people, it made them uncomfortable. The colors were just too sharp, it seemed. Among her small frame, she wore a large, loose-fitting sweater. She hadn’t received her shirt or security jacket yet so she improvised with her top. But as for her bottoms, she wore black jeans that, while not unique, filled the criteria for the “proper” employee dress code. The sound of jittering mechanics emanated from Sunny, the jester having a tough time refraining from invading Stella’s personal space again. Steve couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the animatronic, the so-called veteran took aback by his old friend’s behavior. “SunnyDrop, are you okay?” The concern in his voice seemed to flip a switch within the sun jester, his shaking immediately ceasing as he turned to Steve. “Yes, yes! I’m A-Okay!” He declared, his hands rubbing together from what seemed to be residual anxiety. “Too much Fizzy Fazz, perhaps.” Sunny supplied an excuse, and Steve gave a hesitant nod. He didn’t seem convinced, but for now, he was going to leave it. “Anyhow, we need to get going Sunny.” His rubbing hands slowly came to a stop, an aura of sadness contradicting his large smile. “Oh? You’re leaving so soon?! B-But, I had so many things planned!” Steve chuckled. “Sunny you didn’t even know we were coming. How did you plan anything?” Sunny gave a light laugh, the fluttering sound comforting to Stella. “It’s never hard for me to make up fun activities on the fly!” Sunny said, gently patting Steve on the head for not getting such a simple thing. “Pfft, of course! How could I forget?” Steve played along, Sunny suddenly whipping his head towards Stella who jumped noticeably from his sudden movement. “I’m sad we didn’t get to finger paint together but I hope you can stop by again real soon!” He then hopped over and proceeded to pat Stella on the head as well. But what started as playful swatting turned into gentle rubbing, as if the other could feel her strands of hair amongst his metal fingers. “Soft…Poofy.” He mused gently. Perhaps he did have the ability to feel physical material? Then his touch left her scalp, the sun jester skipping over to the still ajar door. Spinning on the tip of his shoe, he peeked around the door to give one final goodbye. “ Welcome to the Freddy Fazbear Megaplex team, Stella! Can’t wait to spend more time with you!” And with that, he slipped back into his daycare, the once bellowing music immediately muffled by the closing of the large double doors. Steve turned to Stella. “As I said, he is a hoot!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Finally, it was the end of Stella’s shift and she was free to leave the building for the day. Expected to come back at the same time the coming night, she was given every pamphlet that outlined the infrastructure that was the pizza plex. A couple of them were employee inclusive, maps of the utilities’ tunnels and warehouses, of course, not accessible by guests. Currently, she held about 6 different pamphlets, and with each anxious sifting through the leaflets, Stella felt more and more way over her head. The job itself was easy enough - Steve had even gone as far as to give her a handwritten step-by-step instruction sheet for her to follow and, soon enough, apply to her muscle memory. But Stella had no idea just how huge the entire establishment was. She had even admitted to Steve that she has never visited this particular location. However, practice makes perfect and for now, all she could do was study what material she had and get a full eight hours of sleep. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately and now that she was working the night shift her sleeping schedule was going to get a whole new makeover. Change was something Stella found hard to adapt to, but one way or another she will find a way. Certain activities will have to be put on hold while others will be shifted around, Stella is suddenly immersed in creating a faux schedule within her mind. A soft tapping pulled her away from her thoughts, Stella’s head snapping in the direction of the sound. Right now the building’s power had been cut off, something that they did before they officially opened for the day. So, she was walking around in pitch black. Certain areas were illuminated by emergency lights which helped her find her way to the employee exit. But, two red eyes were easy enough to see in the dark, their glowing eeriness slipping her into a trance. She should be terrified right now. She wasn’t diagnosed with it but she highly believed she had a phobia of the dark. However, she walked closer with such ease, Stella realizing she was approaching the see-through shell of the daycare. “MoonDrop.” She muttered, the clicking of the moon jester’s mechanics seemingly increasing from Stella’s recognition. Her earlier conversation with Steve resurfaced to the forefront of her mind, the word “misunderstood” echoing the loudest. So she found herself placing her right hand against the cool glass, Moondrops own dominant hand mirroring hers. “I’m sad we didn’t get to talk more, but I hope to see you again real soon.” She chirped at the night animatronic, Sunny’s last words to her remade in her rendition. She didn’t know if Moon would catch on, but internally she had a feeling she shouldn’t doubt the intellect of these mascots. And her instinct seemed to be correct, Moondrop’s faceplate rotating slightly as his shoulders bounced lightly from his low chuckling. But, to her disappointment, he didn’t speak further. But Steve did mention some were apprehensive of meeting new employees and considering Moondrop’s reputation amongst the ones who have been here the longest, her interaction was something most likely unheard of. From the elusive MoonDrop, nonetheless. She gave a hum, a small grin graced her lips as she gave a few thrums with her fingers against the glass. “Good night, MoonDrop.” She then let her hand fall back to her side and proceeded to make her leave. “Nighty night~” She heard the raspy voice of MoonDrop say, Stella, turning around to see the back half of Moon disappear into the maze that was the play structures. She wasn’t expecting an answer back, but to have received a reciprocated reply she clutched her chest from the sweet ache within. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ And yes, there will be spicy times huehuehue

#fnaf #fnafoc #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #sunndrop #moondrop #sunnydropxoc #moondrop x oc

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jinterlude · 4 years ago

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Knock

→ Pairing: Kim Myungjun x Reader (female OC) [feat. Kim Seokjin and Park Jinwoo] → Genre(s): Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, and & Slight-Angst → AUs/Tropes: Non-Idolverse, Fashionista!Reader, Fashion Editor!Reader, Accountant!Myungjun, Strangers to Lovers trope → Word Count: 5.6K → Warning(s) & Rating: alcohol, alcohol consumption, heartbreak, swearing, & shameless flirting from MJ | PG-15 → Summary: In what seemed like a normal meetup with a friend ended up changing your life forever... → A/N: The majority of this story is set in the past; hence, the past tense, but near the end, it does switch to present tense as the two leading characters finish reminiscing about their first meeting! I apologize in advance if it’s a bit confusing and/or hard to read! I will use some sort of line break to separate the past from the present to make it, hopefully, a tad easier! ☄ This one-shot is dedicated to an incredibly good friend of mine, Beanie @jinned, who is the sole reason why I even got into Astro and officially place MJ on my list of ULTS. He may or may not even be ult of ults. We will see!

“In the end, you’ll thank me as our marriage would’ve been a mistake...You know it. And I know it…”

That phrase knocked the wind out of you as you remained speechless ‒ practically mute ‒ while the loud and bustling noise of the fine dining restaurant continued in the background. You opened your mouth, desperate to form a coherent sentence. Shit. Even an audible word would suffice, but you honestly couldn’t.

The person you firmly believed, with all your heart, that he was the one for you, sat right across the table and declared that the wedding was off—terminated.

The wedding was scheduled to happen in just two months. Two...fucking...months…

“___,” Your fiancé began, breaking you away from your thoughts, “I honestly can’t express how deeply sorry I am for doing this to you, but it was the only way I can preserve our twenty-something friendship.”

“Friendship?” You scoffed, finally finding your voice. “You broke our year-long engagement so that you can PRESERVE OUR FRIENDSHIP?! Are you kidding me, Kim Seokjin?!” You practically boomed, alarming the patrons around you, but you didn’t care.

Seokjin tried to calm you but ultimately fails. Your emotions ran rampant throughout your body that nothing and no one could relax you. Well, Seokjin used to be able to, but since he’s the source of your fury, it’s pointless.

Forcing an airy chuckle, you reached over to your wine glass, drinking it all in seconds. The cool liquid hits the back of your throat but soon leaves behind this warm sensation. You felt that warmth settles within your cheeks, creating this pinkish hue, as you flag down a passing waiter and swiftly order another glass of your favorite wine. Within minutes, your second glass of wine appeared right in front of you. At first, you’re tempted to down it as you’ve done with the first glass, but then you opted against it. The last thing you needed to be was a drunken, heartbroken woman in a luxurious restaurant. At the same time, your ex-fiancé remained calm and collected. Then, the surrounding people - both the workers and customers ‒ would sympathize with him and utter phrases like, “Damn. He dodged a bullet. Look at the way she’s behaving, especially after he explained that he only wants to preserve their friendship.”

“God damn it…” You whispered, taking a long, deep breath, as you realize that Seokjin is right. Your marriage would be a mistake, especially if you’ve fallen out of love with him.

“___?” Seokjin questioned, noting this trance-like expression written all over your precious face.

“Why do you have to be right? Even up until the end of our relationship, you just have to be right…” You trailed on as a small, almost nostalgic-like smile slowly dances across your face.

Seokjin chuckled softly, “Well, someone has to be.”

“Yeah…” You nodded, maintaining that tiny grin as your eyes trail down to your ring finger. Slowly, you slid off the engagement ring, freeing yourself of this heavy burden that you’ve never known you had until tonight. Then, with your right hand, you placed it gently in front of Seokjin, saying one last farewell to him. You thanked him for being your first of every romantic milestone you’ve experienced.

As you stood up, placing a few twenty-dollar bills on the table, you said softly,

“I hope you find someone that will make you unconditionally happy.”

“I hope the same for you, ___. I truly do hope you find your soulmate.”

You uttered a quick thanks before walking from the table and towards a new chapter in your life.

An intriguing yet uncertain chapter where you explored the idea of being single again after so many years.

It should be a fun adventure, right?

Well, it was in the beginning. Yet like with everything else in life, it was only natural you’d experience some ‒ let’s just say ‒ writer’s block.

The first few pages contained incredible details of the first year since your breakup from Seokjin. You found yourself going back to school and majoring in fashion while finding the time to minor in journalism. During that good old university life, you met a person who you now considered a dear, close friend of yours.

Eun Byeol. Now that was a true definition of a “ride or die” friend. To this day, you still remember how you essentially handcuffed your roommate-turned-best friend to the closet door handle, preventing her from driving over to your ex-fiancé’s place and destroying his most prized possession. Yep. You guessed it—his 1960s candy red Jaguar E-Type car. Stereotypical of a fella valuing his vintage ride above anything else, but shit. Even you found yourself admiring that beautiful car once in a while.

But that was ancient history. Old news—just like your editorial on the most fashion show in Milan would be if you didn’t stop reminiscing about your first love and haul your ass.

Lightly shaking your head, forcing yourself back into reality, you cleared your throat a few times, sniffing the Tropical fruit scents that lingered around your office.

“I could really go for a mango shaved ice…” You muttered, blankly staring at your document as little to no inspiration enters your mind. You drummed your fingers against the keys, desperately hoping that something - anything - would jump right out of your brilliant mind and land directly on the page; thus, resulting in a finished article to hand over to the boss lady.

Yet here you sat for another couple of hours staring at the same paragraph. You were pretty sure that you edited that paragraph to the point that it wasn’t even a paragraph. You somehow managed to dwindle it down to a three-sentence summary of Emma Aruda, a rising top model, and how stunning she looked walking the runway. Great. Now your column was too short, thanks to your sudden need to edit before it was even completed.

“Come on, inspiration…” You groaned, slouching in your office chair as you swiveled back and forth, looking at the blanket of white that you called a ceiling.

“You know...the longer you keep your head positioned like that, the higher the chance of your brain cells leaving will be…” quipped a familiar voice, causing you to swivel towards your door.

Soon, a small grin formed on your face as you lightly scoffed at that person’s words.

“Well, hello to you too, Eun Byeol.” You greeted, sitting up straight but still resting your elbows on the arms of your chair.

Eun Byeol flashed a warm smile ‒ so warm and inviting that it could even get the coldest, most standoffish person to greet her back ‒ as she strode towards your desk and leaned against the edge.

“Dumb question, but what’s with frustration radiating off of you?”

“Oh, my brain stupidly remembered my relationship with Seokjin while I was in the middle of writing this article, and now I’m stuck…”

You heard Eun Byeol winced, grimacing as you went into details of the memories that resurfaced in your mind. As each word escaped your sweet lips, the more this unbearable stab pressed against the chest. To be more precise, this cruciating pain that invaded your heart.

“Damn, ___. It’s been like, what? Five years since he called off the engagement? I thought you were officially over that arrogant ass.” asked Eun Byeol, clearly fed up with your ex, as evidence in her tone of voice. You couldn’t help but shrink in your chair as each of your drear friend’s words grazed your soft skin.

Taking a long, deep breath before exhaling slowly, you tilted your head towards your friend, revealing a small and remorseful smile. You felt guilty mentioning him towards, fully aware of how she had rather colorful opinions of him.

“I am over him, but can you blame me for remembering the good old days I experienced with him?”

Now, it was your friend’s turn to feel a tad guilty for allowing and directing her fury towards you. Eun Byeol knew you were over him, but you fell victim to the old saying, “One never truly forgets their first love,” and that was Seokjin. He was your first love, and he might be even your last—unless her boyfriend’s longtime friend was still single.

Then, a lightbulb lit up in her devious mind as this scheming smirk danced across her face, instantly alerting you. That smirk usually led to some rather “exciting” shenanigans, and most often than not, you went home questioning your life choices and wondering how on Earth did your friendship with Eun Byeol last this long.

As you opened your mouth, ready to warn your friend, she beat you the punch.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Uh, besides pulling an all-nighter to finish this article? Nothing. Why?” You asked with a wary expression. Your eyes slightly narrowed while your brows became knitted together.

“Wrong! You’re coming out with me for drinks at this bar Jinwoo and I usually frequent whenever our schedules allow it.” Eun Byeol announced, overly excited, further adding to your suspicions.

You swiftly glanced at your editorial piece before flickering your gaze back to your friend. You sucked in some air through your clenched teeth. Your mind desperately tried to find any, if at all, hidden motives behind Eun Byeol’s random invitation. Unfortunately, you came up with nothing. No secret plans that laid underneath the seemingly harmless invite that your brain could zero in on.

“It’s just the two of us, right?” You asked, feeling apprehensive towards Eun Byeol’s invite.

Eun Byeol simply nodded, smiling brightly as she promised you that it would be just the two of you, and that was all.

After mulling it over for a good minute or two, you whined loudly before agreeing to go out with her.

“But I’m stopping after two Whiskey Sours! I still have a deadline to meet, unlike someone who’s currently in my office and clearly being a bad influence.”

Eun Byeol snorted in response, “Please. If I was such a bad influence, would I suggest that we steal Seokjin’s car and take it on a joy ride?”

“Actually, you did. Like, several times.”

“Shut up and write your damn column.” Teased Eun Byeol before exiting your office. As she created enough distance between her and your office, she fished out her phone from the pocket of her black slacks and sent a quick text message to her boyfriend. A message that read,

“Hey, can you convince MJ to come to our favorite bar? I’d think he’d be perfect for ___!”

Not even a minute after pressing send, Eun Byeol received a response that said,

“I’ll do my best, but he’s been moping lately since his last date ghosted him without any warning. Plus, you can’t forget how soul-sucking our line of work is, babe.”

Eun Byeol giggled softly as she typed out,

“Even more reason to add a certain fashionista to his dull life. She’ll liven it up with her colorful and bright personality,”

She then scrolled through her list of emojis, picking the perfect one before sending it. After waiting for what seemed like ten minutes, her boyfriend didn’t reply, meaning that he was on board and hopefully planting the seed at that moment.

“Oh, please let them hit it off…” thought Eun Byeol as she journeyed back to her office, dying to know if her boyfriend executed his mission perfectly.

Yet like with any task, there were bound to be tiny hiccups as Jinwoo exhausted all his go-to methods to convince his close friend, Kim Myungjun. While Eun Byeol and ___ worked at one of the top fashion empires, he and Myungjun worked a regular office job, crunching numbers for their CEO.

Again, a soul-crushing type of profession, and it didn’t help that their office space was oddly white. Everywhere Jinwoo turned, it was just pure white. Apparently, someone thought it’d be a brilliant idea to add fluorescent lighting into the mi; the entire building gave off this abnormally cleanliness vibe.

Every day that Jinwoo walked into the office, he seriously felt that he entered that agency from the hit movie Men in Black, especially in his black and white two-piece suit that his company required the workers to wear. What was next? He’d get a cool gadget that wiped civilians’ memories?

“Oh, man. That’d be amazing…” He mumbled, unaware of someone standing behind him.

“What’d be amazing, JinJin?” asked an all too familiar voice belonging to a person that Jinwoo actually had to see.

The eager man turned his chair around, now face-to-face with his close friend and coworker—Myungjun.

Quickly clearing his throat, Jinwoo plastered on the warmest smile his face could handle and happily greeted his friend.

Myungjun, at first, felt weirded out by his friend’s sudden surge in energy but soon brushed it off. He then matched Jinwoo’s energy, capturing the attention of a few bystanders.

“So back to my question, what would be amazing?” questioned Myungjun, ignoring the strange glances he and Jinwoo earned from their coworkers.

“Um…” Jinwoo began, nervously chuckling, “It would be amazing if you and I go out for drinks tonight, especially after how shitty this week has been.”

“I don’t know, man, like you said, it’s been a shitty week, and I don’t think I’m up for going out and having a fun time with you and the rest of our buddies.”

“Come on, MJ, you’re still not moping about what’s her face? She’s not worth your time, especially when you weren’t worth hers.” Jinwoo retorted, hoping that his tough-love approach would entice him to come out and meet his girlfriend’s friend. Sadly, it didn’t. If anything, his words made Myungjun even more upset as this solemn expression washed over his once joyous face. Now, his friend looked as if someone took his heart right out of his chest and crushed it with their bare hands.

“Alright...new approach…” Jinwoo switched tactics, going for the more “brotherly advice” approach, “Look, I was out of line, and for that, I’m sorry MJ. But I honestly hate seeing you upset over her, so please come out with me tonight. Tomorrow, you can sit at home alone and mope on the couch. Deal?”

Myungjun made a face, weighing his options but ultimately leaning towards going out. After all, Jinwoo was right. His loneliness and favorite couch would be there tomorrow, so where was the harm in downing a few shots of Vodka to numb the hurt?

“Fine, deal. What’s this place called?”

“Ahora.”

A quizzical expression slowly washed over Myungjun’s face as he couldn’t help but question the intriguing choice of that bar name.

While the uncertainty still filled his entire body, something deep within told him that something ‒ or maybe someone ‒ would change his life after tonight.

Mustering his signature thousand-watt smile; his eyes practically disappeared as he did, Myungjun gave his friend a thumb’s up and said,

“Alright. See you tonight! Maybe you and I can finally see who can drink the most without acting goofy after the third drink!”

Jinwoo playfully shook his head, letting out a few light chuckles.

“I don’t know, my dude. I think I got you beat the last time we had our little drinking competition.” He teased, masking his hidden motive behind inviting his buddy out. Secretly, he hoped that Myungjun would ask like his goofy self since, according to Eun Byeol, you had a thing for comedic guys.

Now, the real question was, how would Myungjun successfully capture your heart?

“So, what should I wear?” Jinwoo heard Myungjun ask, forcibly removing him from his frenzy thoughts.

“Um…” Jinwoo paused, silently panicking since his girlfriend never told him what you were going to wear tonight or even your preferred style on men. “Do you still have that purple and black striped sweater? You know with that creamy-tan color as well? I think it might be cold.” He suggested though he was unsure of his own recommendation. Honestly, he began questioning his life choices when he said, “purple and black striped sweater.”

A faint hum emitted from Myungjun’s lips while he mulled over his buddy’s fashion suggestion. Then, he simply shrugged, going along with Jinwoo’s choice.

“Yeah, I think I have that sweater still. Wait.” The biggest grin danced across his handsome face, “I knew you loved that sweater on me!” He cheered, flinging his arms around Jinwoo’s neck and giving him the warmest hug known to man.

“Let go! People are staring at us weirdly!!”

“Let them stare! I want the entire world to know how amazing of a friend you are to me!”

“Damn, you just had to make it even creepier. Didn’t you?”

“You know me so well.”

Later that evening, while Myungjun knew what he’d wear on his night out with the fellas, you were the polar opposite. You rummaged through your walk-in closet, flinging every single clothing hanger you could get your hands on. You tossed aside the latest peacoats, dresses, wool sweaters, everything onto the floor because nothing matched the vision you had in your fashionista brain. While, yes, it was just going out for a few drinks with Eun Byeol, you still wanted to look reasonably decent just in case Mr. Right made an appearance.

Silently scolding yourself while you tap the pads of your fingers against one another as you desperately try to capture the perfect attire you envisioned yourself. Minutes had gone by, and you still drew a blank. You even pressed your cold lips against your fingers, slightly enjoying the warmth that radiated from your hands. Then, it finally dawned on you as millions of light bulbs lit up in your pretty mind like a beautiful and well-organized lamp display at a furniture store.

“I’m a dumbass.” You teased, softly chuckling as you pulled out this dark gray pin-striped black peacoat and gently draping it over your desk chair. Then, you flipped through your rack, your fingers grazing the fabric of your blouses, button-ups, and plain old t-shirts. Your eyes scanned each article of clothing until you found the perfect blouse that would compliment the jacket perfectly. You pulled out this satin white long-sleeved blouse with ruffles on the ends of both sleeves and the collar.

With a pleased smile, you gently laid the blouse over the jacket before grabbing a nice pair of navy blue slacks. The very same pair of slacks that Eun Byeol has dubbed “the highlighter” because apparently it perfectly accentuated the best parts of your body—whatever that meant.

Grabbing both the coat and blouse with your pants draped over your forearm, you made your way towards the restroom. Just as you’re about to disappear into the well-lit room, you commanded your Alexa to play your go-to “getting ready” song, “Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat).” The second the opening beat dropped, you bobbed your head to the tune, even swaying your hips as you jammed out.

One by one, your lounge clothes dropped to the floor and soon replaced with your jaw-dropping outfit. You smoothed out any wrinkles that your eye instantly locked on before switching focus to your makeup.

Now, this might not be an easy task compared to picking out your current outfit. Any look would pair well with your fashion statement. You could go for a “girl next door” look, but did you really want to portray an innocent person tonight, especially with drinks involved? Probably not.

Suddenly, a short gasp exited your lips as you grabbed all the necessary components for your femme fatale look. Your outfit almost reminded you of the main heroine in a 1940s movie.

“Okay, let’s see how red I can get my lips this time.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Myungjun wasn’t exactly having the time of his life. He remained still as a statue, staring blankly at his closet. Did he genuinely want to go out tonight? Part of him firmly believed that he only agreed to drink his sorrows away and forget about this girl that ghosted him a few weeks back. That was always his problem—he had the tendency to develop an infatuation before the girl does. It was honestly quite pathetic.

Just as he was a step away from backing out from the hangout, a high-tone pitch echoed throughout Myungjun’s condo.

With a curious expression, Myungjun shuffled his feet towards his phone, taking it off the charger. His brows perked up as he saw that he received a text message from Jinwoo.

“Huh. Maybe Jinwoo wants to back out.” He wishfully thought, unlocking his phone to read the message. It said,

“Hey man, I’m going to be a few minutes late, so you can get a head start on our little drinking competition!”

Nodding his head, Myungjun hit the message box. Just as he was about to type out his reply, a photo appeared. The image contained a person, who looked to be female, and to his dismay, her head was cropped out.

“Okay?” He thought, typing out his reply and asking his friend why he received a picture of a woman with excellent taste in clothing. Then, for laughs, Myungjun added, “Is that what you’re wearing, JinJin? I didn’t peg you as the type to wear a frilly blouse.”

Not even a minute later, the playful fellow received a response,

“Fuck you, MJ! And to answer your serious question, if you see this girl, can you politely let her know that Eun Byeol is also running late. Apparently, that lady is a college friend of Byeolie, and they coincidentally also wanted to meet at the bar we’re going to. Cool? Thanks!”

Slightly shaking his head, Myungjun replied with a thumb’s up emoji before locking his phone.

“Well, I guess you can’t back out now,” He muttered, opening his closet doors and revealing a wide array of clothing, coming in every color known to man. “What did that old man suggest earlier? Oh! Purple, cream-tan, and black pull-over!” Then, a sudden pause filled the air, “That was oddly specific of him to suggest…” He realized, thinking back to their conversation at work. Yet he merely shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it except his friend perhaps wanted him to look good just in case he’d were to meet his Miss Right.

“Alright, MJ. Pick up the pace. We don’t want the pretty lady waiting too long, do we?”

Sadly, that happened, and to put it frankly, you were pissed off at Eun Byeol for making you awkwardly wait for what seemed like forever. Granted, it was only an hour that you waited for her, but that was beside the point.

Nope. The long wait time was not the sole reason behind your agitation. Nuh-uh. It was the fact that your oh-so-dear-friend failed to mention that every couple known to man appeared at the bar tonight. Thus, resulted in you nervously sitting alone at the bar, running the tip of your finger against the rim of your whiskey sour. You then gulped down the last remaining sips before almost slamming it on the counter. With a sour expression, you held up one finger and politely asked for another glass. Just as you mumbled a quick thanks, you felt someone tap your shoulder.

Instead of giving the “drunken” stranger, more than likely looking for a one-night stand, you wave the person away, citing that you were already waiting for someone.

“I mean, from the looks of it, I don’t think your friend is coming.” pointed out the stranger, with an unusual high-pitch voice. Though, to give the person the benefit of the doubt, you were used to deep, manly voices. This unknown bystander’s voice was honestly a breath of fresh air.

Reaching for your second glass of the evening, you swiveled in your seat, coming face-to-face with the stranger. But the moment your eyes landed on him, you felt your jaw drop slightly, forming a tiny “o.” Holy crap, this guy is incredibly gorgeous.

Quickly snapping out of your gaze, you cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry? I. Um. What do you mean my friend is not coming?”

“Just that. I mean, originally, I was supposed to be here 45 minutes ago and give you a heads up that Eun Byeol was running late. Still, I lost track of time getting ready to meet my friend here. However…” he trailed on, looking around. He, too, noticed all the couples chatting it up everywhere and anywhere in the bar that evening. “I’m starting to think that we were set up on a blind date.”

You softly giggled, “Yeah, I’m getting that hunch as well...I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” You replied, unknowingly disregarding the fact that Myungjun mentioned your best friend’s name.

“Oh! I’m Kim Myungjun, but my friends call me MJ,” Then he playfully winked at you, flashing a bright smile, “I can’t forget pretty girls, like yourself, as well.”

You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief, “Well, I’ll think about it, but thank you for that disclaimer. Also, you can call me ____.”

“What? No playful yet flirtatious tactic like me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The night is still young, MJ.”

Hearing his nickname slip past your innocent lips, Myungjun couldn’t help but raise a brow with an interested gleam in his eyes. One corner of his mouth curved upwards as he observed your body language. He silently hoped for your non-verbal cues would give him the “okay” to continue his flirting. When he didn’t see any signs of uncomfortableness radiating off you, he took that as the first and ‒ hopefully ‒ of many positive reactions he’d gained from you throughout the evening.

Clearing his throat, the suddenly nervous young man glanced around the busy establishment, looking for a vacant booth for the two of you to occupy. Lucky must be on his side as his focused gaze immediately locked on an empty stall in the far right corner. With pursed lips, he swiftly analyzed the location and the atmosphere that surrounded it. Myungjun noted how dimly lit that corner was. With the added candles, that location had this romantic aura swarming it and those who sat in that spot.

It was perfect for this sudden blind date.

“So, would you like to sit over there?” asked Myungjun, pointing towards the only empty booth.

You followed his finger and landed on the isolated corner that screamed passion. Instantly, your eyes widened as your heart rapidly drummed against your chest. Oh, you weren’t prepared for this, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel this unexplainable excitement and giddiness. A few emotions that you hadn’t felt in a long time—not since your relationship with Seokjin. Yet to be quite honest, you didn’t feel scared. In fact, you were ready to take that plunge into the deep romantic ocean. You weren’t worried about drowning or hitting a bunch of jagged rocks. You just wanted to take that leap of faith and, perhaps, maybe Myungjun would catch you.

With a long, drawn-out breath, you steadied your racing heart before answering him,

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

In return, Myungjun greeted with his signature thousand-watt smile, resulting in this warm sensation creeping on your pale cheeks.

“Positive reaction number 2.” He silently cheered as he abruptly held out his hand, hoping you’d take it. “After you, m’lady,” said Myungjun with a hint of playfulness.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, slightly shaking your head in the process.

“Why, thank you, my kind sir.” You played along, gently grasping his hand and curling your fingers around his. The second you did that, this unspeakable spark shot through both of your arms, surging through your entire body. What made that reaction spectacular was that he interlaced your fingers together as he softly smiled with a genuine warm expression written all over his handsome face. With that smile alone, all recent thoughts about Seokjin and any doubts caused by your former relationship evaporated into thin air. Now, it was just you and Myungjun.

You took a mental note to thank Eun Byeol for setting up this blind date as you guided your bodies towards the booth. Naturally, you picked up the pace as you didn’t want anyone else to steal that perfect spot meant for the both of you.

Little by little, you pushed through the sea of people, swiftly closing the gap between your bodies and the table.

“Which side do you want?” You politely asked as you couldn’t help but notice a defeated couple look for somewhere else to sit. Huh. Perfect timing on your part.

Myungjun softly tapped his chin with his free hand as this faint hum emitted from his lips. Then, a bold idea appeared in his mind. Depending on how you’d answer, he could either make incredible progress or back to square one with you. Well, it was time to find out.

“I have a better idea. Why don’t I sit right next to you? You know so that you can hear me better, especially with how noisy it is right now.”

A tiny squeal escaped your lips as your eyes went round. Your face flushed from Myungjun’s boldness.

“Okay, ____. You need to form a string of coherent words.” You chastised yourself, feeling a tad foolish that you’re this nervous to the point that you can’t even form a simple sentence. “You can do it. All you need to say is, “Sure. You can sit next to me.” Is that so damn hard?” You mumbled to yourself—or so you thought.

“Um. I don’t know, sweetheart. Is it tough to say that you want to sit next to me?”

“Uh...no?”

“Really? You don’t sound so sure of yourself.”

“I mean, yes, we should sit right next to each other.”

You nervously chuckled as you entered the booth, placing your drink on the edge of the table just before shuffling towards the middle of the table with Myungjun following after. You then kindly ask him if he could slide your almost finished Whiskey Sour to you, which he did but not without some playful quips towards you. He teased you for acting like a nervous wreck, blaming the fact that you probably had one too many drinks already. You argued back, stating that you only had two drinks and that it was all his fault for making you this worked up.

Myungjun chuckled in response but soon, that boyish grin vanished from his face and was replaced with a scheming yet charming smirk. What was he planning? And as soon as you parted your sweet lips, Myungjun’s face was inches away from yours. One wrong you move and the two of you would lock lips right then and there. That’s how close you were to each other.

“Oh? So, it’s my fault, then how are you feeling now?” He whispered. His warm breath fanned your cheeks as his gaze darted between your doe-like stare and your apple-red lips. “Am I making you extremely worked up—”

“Hold up! That’s not how our first date went, MJ.” You say, interrupting your boyfriend’s somewhat exaggerated story. You’re almost sure that he’s currently telling a rendition of what he wishes occurred on your first date.

Myungjun scoffs, putting on the theatrics, clearly finding your words offensive.

“It is so! I distinctly remember you had two drinks that evening; hence, you becoming a blushing mess around me. Ooh! You can’t forget the fact that you wanted to kiss me as well.” He argues, acting like a child debating who’s the better superhero, Superman or Batman, with a school friend. You don’t know how you’ve managed to last an entire year with this dramatic fool.

“JinJin! Tell her how wrong she is!” Myungjun whines to his close friend and boyfriend of Eun Byeol.

You shoot Jinwoo a look, questioning why he’s even there on your anniversary date.

Jinwoo pauses, silently sipping his Coca-Cola as he still needs to drive home after he’s done hiding from his girlfriend, who he accidentally angered. A look of hesitation washes over his face as the poor fella absolutely does not want to get in the middle of your guys’ argument. After all, Myungjun is the reason why he’s able to safely hide from his furious significant other. But also, that stupid pretty boy is the cause of his and Eun Byeol’s argument in the first place.

So…

“Well, first of all, you’re both misremembering your first date because it actually wasn’t a blind date. You two had met previously at mine and Eun Byeol’s housewarming party. Then, you two decided to start out as friends because,” Jinwoo points to you, “You're in a relationship with Seokjin. Myungjun was seeing some random chick that I’ve forgotten the name for her.” He stated, debunking the first part of your love story. Before continuing with his explanation, Jinwoo chugs the rest of his soda and holds up a finger, flagging down a waiter to order another glass of Coke.

“Alright, now where was I?” He releases a tiny burp as he continues his journey of stating the facts of your relationship, making Myungjun protest and whine.

Then, your dork of a boyfriend leans towards you, his lips hovering over your ear.

“Why did I let him tag along with us again?”

“Because you two are tighter than a clam’s ass. That’s how close you two are to one another. It’s quite freaky at times.”

Myungjun, being his dramatic self, gawked, stumbling over his words,

“W-what? Name one-time that JinJin was with us.”

“Last night.”

Suddenly, Myungjun’s face becomes blank. Checkmate.

“And another thing! I wasn’t even the one who convinced you to go out that evening! It was Eunwoo!”

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #/mystories #astro #astro fanfic #astro x reader #astro mj #astro myungjun #astro au #kim myungjun #myungjun #myungjun fanfic #myungjun x reader #mj #mj x reader #mj x you #mj fanfiction #mj scenarios #mj au

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years ago

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(Not) What I Want in a Second Chance

Ch 1: The Devil is in the Details

//Tw: Emotional manipulation. Death, grieving, alcohol abuse, suicidal ideation; anti-android sentiments, and anti-android language. CyberLife is an unsettling mix of FB, Amazon and Google. Be prepared

Hank had his fair share of regrets, it came with the amount of time he had been on the force. His family fell apart. There were lives he could have saved if he had only been faster. The consequences that came with hitting a patch of ice; just to name a few. There were days he debated putting in for retirement, but he knew where that would lead. One more added to a growing statistic. Another retired detective that chose to suck on a bullet; and that was assuming anyone cared enough to come check on him. So he drank instead. On the days he woke up in time, he went to work. On the days he didn’t he woke up only to start drinking again. Another hopeless, tired man on the fast track to a whiskey filled grave. He wasn’t as bothered by that as he probably should have been. He wasn’t bothered by much anymore. If he could think clearly that meant he needed a drink. There was one thing that always bothered him though, and that was androids. He found them creepy over all, they had no reason to look that human. Then one had killed Cole; or rather, stood there and did nothing while he died. That had been when Hank had drawn the line. In that moment they had gone from something mildly off putting to something he actively despised.

That was why he liked places like Jimmy’s. It was one of the few places left that wasn’t overrun by androids, and the other patrons left him alone. Everyone was nursing a different sorrow so conversation wasn’t a priority. He could treat his grief with whiskey until he was face down against the bar and no one would judge him for it. Tonight was shaping up to be one of the rougher ones. He couldn’t drown his regrets no matter how much he drank. The thoughts refused to blur. It wasn’t Cole tonight. For a change, he was thinking about someone else he had lost. Connor Paldeki was one of his earlier partners, and his favorite even still. He had belonged to the Deerborn Police Department originally and they had met on a particularly bad homicide case. They worked well enough that they were paired for joint cases pretty often after that. So when Connor was transferred to Detroit it only seemed natural that they were made partners since they had previous work history. Even as a rookie Connor had been bright. He could pick a scene a part and put it back together with ease and accuracy that was almost scary. Hank had been certain that he was on the fast track to making rank. Then the Red Ice bust had happened and Connor’s glowing career came to a sudden and bloody end. Hank had wound up promoted, but it felt hollow somehow. Like it was a consolation of sorts.

He felt like it was written in Connor’s blood. Hank had been told that he hadn’t felt it, that he had been dead before he hit the ground. They hadn’t seen him though with the fear of death frozen on his face. None of the them had the haloing pool of blood seared into their memory. For all the consolation they tried to give him, they hadn’t been so powerless as to see the life leave the eyes of a dear friend. The papers had praised the whole raiding group as heroes, painted the thing like it had been a success. In a way it had been; they’d gotten what they were after, but they had lost three officers in the process. Connor, and two officers he hadn’t known from the SWAT team that had accompanied them. No one talked about it, and Hank wanted to scream. He went through the motions; his mandatory grief counseling, being a pall bearer for Connor’s casket; and then he took some time off to try and process all of it. When he got back he took the small bonsai tree from Connor’s desk and pretended things were alright. He had to be. He was Lieutenant now, he couldn’t just break. He took care of the tree like Connor was coming back and would be upset to find it dead. He continued to try and love Ezra even though things were falling apart slowly, and he did his job. If he just kept going something would have to got right eventually. He hoped so anyway; because if it didn’t then what the fuck was all of this for. When Cole was born Hank had thought that was the start of his better days, and it had been for a while.

It was some level of pathetic that the most put together his life had ever seemed to be was when he was drinking himself into an early grave. He was pulled away from that train of thought by the feeling of being watched. That sense of awareness wasn’t something he could turn off even when he was drinking away what was left of his coherency. He looked up from the bar, and there was Connor, but something was off. Aside from the fact that he was dead, had been for over ten years at this point. He was here in the flesh, and Hank was almost willing to write it off as a drunken hallucination. There was just something about this Not-Connor that was bothering him. It took longer than it should of for his eyes to land on the blue LED at his temple. He’d had to tear his eyes away from the face that had haunted more than it’s fair share of his nightmares for the better part of a decade. CyberLife had accounted for every little detail. Down to that stupid curl that had always refused to stay put no matter how much gel Connor put in his hair. He could hazard a guess at how they had gotten that information. They had files on everyone it seemed, whether or not someone owned an android didn’t seem to matter. Or, since it had been over a decade they could have pulled it through FOI, but Hank sincerely doubted that.

“Lieutenant Anderson?” He - It asked. Hank couldn’t place it, but there was something wrong about the voice. It was almost exactly Connor’s, but there was something wrong about it. He was tempted not to respond, but he had the feeling this Not - Connor would wait there all night even if Hank ignored it. “Yeah,” He huffed, “What do you want?” “My name is Connor.” It started, and Hank wanted to scream, this was not his Connor. Not the right one, “I am the android sent by CyberLife. There has been a homicide and I was told to find you; which I was lucky enough to do after the fifth bar.” “Fuck off.” Hank groused. “My instructions were -” It started, but Hank cut it off. “I’ll show you where you can stick your instructions.” He muttered. That seemed to give it pause. Where is Connor would have laughed and made a remark of his own, this convincing fake just looked pathetically confused. Hank almost pitied the thing, but it wore the face of a dead friend and that wasn’t something he could forgive. “What if I buy you a drink?” It pressed, “Would you come with me then?” Hank gave an annoyed sigh of defeat and relented. The sooner he got this over with, the less time he would have to spend facing this walking lie, “Fine.”

In the most put upon way the thing that was not Connor flagged for another whiskey and even paid for it. As annoyed as he was, Hank had to admit he was almost impressed. The real Connor would have never set foot in a bar unless it was for a case. It made it easier to distance one from the other. He nursed his new whiskey for longer than was strictly necessary. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it his way. He drove to the scene with his music loud enough that talking would be a pain in the ass, and the thing had still tried to make conversation. Hank would have turned into oncoming traffic if he was certain this thing wouldn’t have tried to stop him. It certainly seemed to have a purpose other than torturing him. “Stay in the car.” He said firmly when they arrived at the scene. “Got it.” It said in a way not too unlike the actual Connor and it made Hank’s stomach twist in disgust. It didn’t actually stay in the car of course, and Hank hadn’t really expected it to. It had it’s orders after all, and so did Hank unfortunately.

Hank took a bitter sort of satisfaction in Ben’s obvious discomfort when he saw it. Whatever comment he had been about to make died and he let them by with a tense nod. Every person on scene that had known the real Connor looked distinctly troubled by the fake; and that had been before it had licked any evidence. Hank passively observed the scene, he wanted to see what this thing was made of. Was his computer brain anything like how the real Connor’s had been? Better? As much as he hated the thing, he was curious how it would stack up against the real thing. The other android self destructed in the end, even with Not-Connor’s unsettling attempt at compassion. Or perhaps because of it. It was something Hank hoped he would never have to see again. By the time they were done for the night, Hank had one question that was weighing on him. “Why do you look this way?” He asked as he gathered his things. “To ensure your cooperation.” Came the flat reply. That was when Hank realized what was wrong; the voice held no emotion to it. The next thing it said was what chilled Hank to the bone, “They figured you wouldn’t want to the cause of your partner’s death for a second time, and it was too soon to use the image of your son.”

Hank wasn’t sure what hurt him more; the blatant manipulation, or that fact that if seeing his dead friend again didn’t hurt him enough CyberLife wouldn’t be above using his son against him. When he made it the parking lot he threw up in a near by trash been. He didn’t remember the drive home, but when he got to the house he made sure to feed Sumo before he grabbed the Black Lamb and his revolver. When darkness finally came for him he didn’t know if it was because he had drank himself into unconsciousness again, or if he had finally won at Russian Roulette. He just hoped he never came out of it. He couldn’t do this.

#(Not) What I Wanted in a Second Chance #hankcon #dbh hank #dbh Connor #hannor #dbh fic #dbh #death tw #emotional manipulation tw #greif tw #alcohol abuse tw #suicide tw #malicious data collection tw #anti-android sentiment tw #anti-android language tw

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alysemeadfad · 4 years ago

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𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖔𝖓

Most would say its easy for a teenager to rebel at any point in time, but I find it hard to rebel in any way, most teens get tattoos, piercings, cut and dye their hair to rebel against their parents, but growing up with a mom who is tattooed, hair in fun dyed styles and piercings, I’m really just following in her footsteps she practically encourages.

The only thing I rebel against is tidying my room and making cups of tea, cant really say I could start a world changing rebellion on that.

Rebellions i find important

1903–18 — Women’s Suffrage Movement The foundation of the Women’s Social and Political Union by Emmeline Pankhurst in 1903 began a more militant phase of the call for votes for women, which had been growing through the end of the 19th century. The Suffragettes used militant tactics like vandalism, arson, bombing and hunger strikes, with one member committing public suicide by throwing herself under the King’s horse at a race in 1913. The movement was wound up when some women were enfranchised in the 1918 Representation of the People Act, before all women over 21 were given the vote in 1928.

Suffragette Vera Wentworth in 1909, and the dress by Vaquera that it inspired

Stonewall riots 28 Jun 1969 – 3 Jul 1969 The Stonewall riots were a series of spontaneous demonstrations by members of the gay community in response to a police raid that began in the early morning hours of June 28, 1969, at the Stonewall Inn in the Greenwich Village neighborhood of Manhattan, New York City.

It is said that Marsha P. Johnson was the one who started the rebellion. Supposedly, throughout the bustle of the raid, Marsha threw a shot glass into a mirror and shouted, ” I got my civil rights!”. With this inspiration and resistance against the police, other patrons began to follow.

Present day- Me Too movement.The Me Too movement, with variations of related local or international names, is a social movement against sexual abuse and sexual harassment towards women, where people publicize allegations of sex crimes.

The Punk Rebellion

the punk involved no protests or riots, it impacted people, fashion, music, society and everything to be honest.

The punk subculture advocates a do-it-yourself (DIY) ethic. During the subculture's infancy members were almost all from a lower economic class, and had become tired of the affluence that was associated with popular rock music at the time. Punks would publish their own music or sign with small independent labels, in hopes to combat what they saw as a money hungry music industry. The DIY ethic is still popular with punks.ideology's of punks

Ideology

Punk political ideologies are mostly concerned with individual freedom and anti-establishment views. Common punk viewpoints include individual liberty, anti-authoritarianism, a DIY ethic, non-conformity, anti-collectivism, anti-corporatism, anti-government, direct action and not "selling out".

Some groups and individuals that self-identify as being a part of punk subculture hold right-wing views. The belief that such views are opposed to the original ethos of the punk subculture, and its history, has led to internal conflicts and an active push against such views being considered part of punk subculture at all. Two examples of this are an incident during the 2016 American Music Awards, where the band Green Day chanted anti-conservative, anti-racist, and anti-fascist messages, and an incident at a show by the Dropkick Murphys, when bassist and singer Ken Casey, tackled an individual for giving a nazi-style salute and later stated that nazis are not welcome at a Dropkick Murphys show. Band member Tim Brennan later reaffirmed this sentiment. The song "Nazi Punks Fuck Off" by hardcore punk band Dead Kennedys has come to be considered an anti-nazi anthem.

VIV WESTWOOD

Rejecting the hippie ethos that was fashionable towards the end of the 1960s, Westwood and McLaren created clothes that referenced youth culture's recent past, selling rock'n'roll fashion in a shop unit at 430 King's Road in Chelsea. In 1974, the shop took on its most notorious identity: SEX, with Westwood and McLaren designing fetish wear that they sold to prostitutes, those with 'underground' sexual tastes, and young proto-punks brave enough to take a seriously edgy look out onto the street. The pair enjoyed shocking people, designing garments and shoes that referenced 'deviant' sexual practices, including rubber dresses and stilettos bristling with spikes.

How punk influenced me, because it influenced the world

My take on rebellion

Westwood inspired tights.

after watching a documentary on vivien westwood and the birth of the punk revolution i created some westwood inspired tights as a little spontaneous brainstorm, did not develop any further on the tights.

i used a pair of brand new white tights and put holes all in them, this is non conformist as if a regular pair of tights had a hole you would bin them as they were no good any more, but purposely putting holes in is quite rebellious in that aspect, i used sharpies to draw triggering symbols and words such as a swastikka and ‘punk fag’ .

crayon drawings

i used crayons to create these images as i thought it was a more rebellious medium and its created for kids so that is non conforming and it gives a rough diy finish look making it look slightly unfinished

i created a lesbian nun, this was a spur of the mind thought whats socially good and respected? a nun? whats the opposite of what a nun preaches, homo behavior.

here i did a little barbie series drawing from observational on one and on another from mind and another from an image which i created by burning a barbie ehich is quite a rebellious act in a way.

Collages

i decided to do some collages as its a way of just slapping ideas out in a visual format, my first one was using a fashion magazine and i realized this was the way to go so i printed some punk imagery and even used my own crayon drawings to create more collages.

photo shop

i wanted to mess with these collages more on a digital format so i put them in to photo shop to play with them and generate more ideas this was giving me a poster vibe which reminded me of punk posters.

Final ideas

i used images from the new york trip to create a vision on photo shop, using a light of the american flag,sign posts, bins with posters on them.a clip art image of a chain and lock,street art and stickers i saw on poles in the street which is another form or street art which is quite rebellious as its not socially acceptable to vandalize and graffiti on public areas.

i took a few elements from the last board and included them in this vision board, i really wanted the main focus to be on the pipe that says “the rich killed nyc” i feel like it has a deep meaning behind it and it is quite rebellious as it reminded me of the punk rebellion in the uk as it was mostly lower class working people who used art, music and fashion to rebel against society and social constructs and actively non conform to the “rules” in a way. i also used a sticker that says jesus loves you and i crossed it out and wrote hate you over the loves you part as that is fitting to my rebellious visions.

in this board i again used “ the rich killed nyc” pipe as that’s my main surrounding element, i uses another pole with stickers on though you cant really tell what the stickers are, it just fits the aesthetic. i used a statue of liberty as she is known as a symbol of freedom, and along side it i used a photo of a photograph i saw in the modern art museum where this person had dyke tattooed on their neck which is a derogatory word to gay women, and that’s quite rebellious to take a bad word and own it by tattooing it on your body .

in this board i moved away from “the rich killed nyc” pipe as i felt i needed to come away from that one element for one board and to broaden my ideas. in this one i used a sky line image i took when on the ferry to liberty island, i changed the colour to black and white as the original colours of the image are quite blue and orangy, i used a sign post that says one way as it for some reason reminded me of like “one way to hell” or something and that there feels like there is no choice or individuality in the phrase “one way” . i used text over the sky line that says “the rotten apple” as new york city is known as the big apple and i thought, when i was there it did not remind me of a big fresh beautiful apple as the homeless people on the streets and the graffiti that has no artistic intent, so it was more of a rotten apple in a way. i used an image of the american flag i took on liberty island as i used an image of an american flag light, so i thought i could link back to that idea and use an actual flag, as its to represent freedom. i also used a art piece from the modern art gallery which was just a male mannequin wearing a bra which does not fit the social constrict of what men should wear there for its quite rebellious and opposite to the one way system.

in my final board i included the american flag, a chain over it completely doing the opposite of what the flag means which is freedom, i used the bun that says don’t be afraid of anyone with an edited red paint drip on it which kind of looks like blood, i used text that says “ the rich killed nyc” as i loved that phrase bit i over used the pole in the other boards and i liked that my main message is that the rich killed nyc, i used an image of my dr martens that i took while my feet were up against a pole as i sat on a tube, showing anti social behavior basically which is stereo typically rebellious,and also dr martens were quite fashionable in the uk punk rebellion so i’m hinting to my idea that was inspired by the uk punk rebellion, and finally i have a set of traffic lights which are about order and control, the light is also on red which signifies danger, and the word stop which fits to my idea.

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years ago

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It must exhibit the event in a way to excite awe and veneration and that which may be required to give superior interest to the representation must be introduced, all that can show the importance of the Hero. Wolfe must not die like a common soldier under a Bush…To move the mind there should be a spectacle presented to raise and warm the mind and all should be proportioned to the highest idea conceived of the Hero….A mere matter of fact will never produce this effect.

- Benjamin West, artist of The Death of General Wolfe (1770)

The Death of General Wolfe (1770) by Anglo-American artist Benjamin West (1738 – 1820) is certainly the most celebrated and iconic paintings depicting a military historical event.

The Death of General Wolfe depicts an event from the Seven Years’ War (known as the French and Indian War in North America), the moment when Major-General James Wolfe was mortally wounded on the Plains of Abraham outside Quebec on 13 Sept 1759. This painting then captures a pivotal event in the Seven Years’ War that decided the fate of France’s colonies in North America.

General Wolfe commanded the British Army and successfully held the British line against the French and won the battle. Unfortunately, General Wolfe was killed by musket wounds.

In death, General Wolfe gained fame as a national hero and became an icon of the Seven Years’ War and British dominance in North America.

It was Benjamin West who really imprinted Wolfe’s heroics on the British imagination. West was a British North American artist, who painted famous historical scenes. West was born in Springfield, Pennsylvania, as the tenth child of an innkeeper and his wife.He was entirely self-taught and went on to gain valuable patronage in the American Colonies. Later he toured Europe, eventually settling in London.

The image West created was so popular that West made an identical painting of the same scene for George III of the United Kingdom, one year after this painting. In total, four other additional versions of the Death of General Wolfe were also produced by West.

Wolfe’s death at the time was seen as heroic and art just immortalised him, mainly thanks to Benjamin West. And like all immortalisations it’s not meant to be historically accurate but is representative of a greater ideal.

Indeed West’s crowding of the foreground in The Death of General Wolfe, though inaccurate, is completely in keeping with his expressed desire to arrive at a ‘perfect’ philosophical truth by melding literal and ideal truth. Though only a few actually witnessed Wolfe’s death, such a depiction would have lessened the monumentality of the scene and, therefore, would not have conveyed to the viewer the perfect truth implicit in this particular death. West chose for his subject the entire Battle of Quebec, and focused on Wolfe’s death as its crucial and most heroic moment.

In this painting, West departed from conventions in two important regards. Generally, history paintings were reserved for narratives from the Bible or stories from the classical past. Instead, however, West depicted a near-contemporary event, one that occurred only seven years before.

Secondly, many - including the great Sir Joshua Reynolds and West’s patron, Archbishop Drummond - strongly urged West to avoid painting Wolfe and others in modern costume, which was thought to detract from the timeless heroism of the event. They urged him to instead paint the figures wearing togas. West refused, writing, “the same truth that guides the pen of the historian should govern the pencil [paintbrush] of the artist.” King George III refused to purchase the painting because the clothing compromised the dignity of the event.

Yet despite West’s interest in “truth,” there is little to be found in The Death of General Wolfe. Without doubt, the dying General Wolfe is the focus of the composition. West paints Wolfe lying down at the moment of his death wearing the red uniform of a British officer. A circle of identifiable men attend to their dying commander. Historians know that only one - Lieutenant Henry Browne, who holds the British flag above Wolfe - was present at the General’s death.

Clearly, West took artistic license in creating a dramatic composition, from the theatrical clouds to the messenger approaching on the left side of the painting to announce the British victory over the Marquis de Montcalm and his French army in this decisive battle. Previous artists, such as James Barry, painted this same event in a more documentary, true-to-life style. In contrast, West deliberately painted this composition as a dramatic blockbuster.

This sense of spectacle is also enhanced by other elements, and West was keenly interested in giving his viewers a unique view of this North American scene. This was partly achieved through landscape and architecture. The St. Lawrence River appears on the right side of the composition and the steeple represents the cathedral in the city of Quebec.

In addition to the landscape, West also depicts a tattooed Native American on the left side of the painting. Shown in what is now the universal pose of contemplation, the Native American firmly situates this as an event from the New World, making the composition all the more exciting to a largely English audience.

Eighteenth-century notions of masculinity promoted honour and courage in the face of war and death, tragedies that bound men together in pain, suffering, and anguish. The Native American symbolises the masculinity of an alien culture, that of the natural, uncivilised man. His naked body is displayed in opposition to the clothed Europeans, whose military uniforms signify masculinity, courage, and strength.

Although the Indian, as a warrior, is part of the scene, his nakedness and accoutrements – trade blanket, hunting pouch, and body paint – simultaneously single him out. His partial nakedness likewise affects how we see him: both exposed and covered, he is available to our gaze yet hidden from full view.

At the same time, the Native American’s gaze directs the viewer’s gaze to the fallen hero, who reclines in a supine, feminized position. In contrast to the activity and purpose demonstrated by the British soldiers, the Iroquois and Wolfe are inactive and passive, qualities coded as feminine. Wolfe’s pale skin, wounded state, and expressive face with upward-looking eyes reinforce this impression.

Nakedness is in fact implicit in the fallen hero, whose gaping wound – covered by a white cloth – opens his body to expose his vulnerability. His nakedness is displaced onto the Native American, who, although passive, displays a heroic, muscular body. The Indian thus combines masculine power with feminine weakness, underscoring both his strength and his subservience to British power. By rendering the Indian as naked and vulnerable in his seated pose, West diminished his threat and placed him in a secondary position, as a tributary to the British forces during the French and Indian War.

Perhaps most important is the way West portrayed the painting’s protagonist as Christ-like. West was clearly influenced by the innumerable images of the dead Christ in Lamentation and Depositions paintings that he would have seen during his time in Italy. This deliberate visual association between the dying General Wolfe and the dead Christ underscores the British officer’s admirable qualities. If Christ was innocent, pure, and died for a worthwhile cause - that is, the salvation of mankind - then Wolfe too was innocent, pure, and died for a worthwhile cause; the advancement of the British position in North America. Indeed, West transforms Wolfe from a simple war hero to a deified martyr for the British cause. This message was further enhanced by the thousands of engravings that soon flooded the art market, both in England and abroad.

Benjamin West’s The Death of General Wolfe justifiably retains a position as a landmark painting in the history of military art. In it, West reinterprets the rules of what a history painting could be - both in regard to period depicted and the attire the figures wore - and at the same time followed a visual language that would have been familiar to its eighteenth-century audience.

Indeed almost immediately as The Death of General Wolfe was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1771 it became one of the most frequently reproduced images of the period. For West himself, he impressed King George III enough (despite his misgivings on how he clothed Wolfe) and with his patronage he was mostly responsible for the launch of the Royal Academy, of which he became the second president after Sir Joshua Reynolds.

West is quoted as saying that “Art is the representation of human beauty, ideally perfect in design, graceful and noble in attitude.” But here in this painting beauty and truth seem to be at odds. This is where one can get lost in the weeds of art and aesthetics. Roger Scruton suggests that great art has always shown the real (truth) in the light of the ideal and that in doing so it is transfigured. A great painting does not necessarily have a beautiful subject matter, but it is made beautiful through the artist’s interpretation of it. To be transported by beauty, from the ordinary world to, as Scruton calls it, “the illuminated sphere of contemplation.” It is on that plane one can contemplate truth in art and life.

**Wolfe's death and the portrayal of that event by Benjamin West make up half of Simon Schama's historical work Dead Certainties: Unwarranted Speculations (1991). This is well worth a read if you want to discover more about this remarkable subject and painting.

#the death of james wolfe #art #aesthetics #painting #seven years war #bejamin west #war #military #hero #icon #history #quote #britain #canada #quebec #art criticism #roger scruton

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bladekindeyewear · 5 years ago

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HS^2 bloggin’ bonus 2020-02-01

bladekindeyewear:

Boy that sure is a new HS^2 bonus I should blogread. And there was a commentary on the Patreon for the last proper upd8 too.

I’ll… do it sometime this weekend, not right away. (Had a stomach virus through Monday and Tuesday that’s left me pretty fucked over and still waiting for the aftereffects to flee.)

Alright, taking a crack at both of these now. (Both light on images and quoting, since it’s all Patreon material.) So what’s going on here? Are the bonus chapters splitting into separate stories perhaps, following the lecture in one and the PS^2 crew in another? Also, from the replies on the previous:

gaaraofsburbia said: It was very good and I was very happy

Good to know. Time to read, bonus first! *clicks link*

...the title of a book someone’s holding. Bookmarked (with a red flag?). Uh huh. Good start.

> ==>

“A picture book for young parliamentarians.) ...oh wow, it’s Carapacian even. Did the Mayor have anything to do with this book?

--Wait. Waitwaitwait. This isn’t-- the authors wouldn’t go back in time and show us like-- PM and the Mayor trying to start the-- nooo.

> ==>

Oh shit, never mind. This is a book ABOUT the Mayor. Starting from him farming on Skaia and continuing from there with a focus on societal structures presumably. So, sort of like what I just said but not quite as goddamn heartwrenching, most likely.

You know, this WOULD have been a good opportunity for the authors to finally bring some canon awareness to all the rampant Breath and Blood visual-and-textual symbolism around WV and PM’s arcs, giving people some HINT of their potential importance outside some crazy unproven blog post on some crazy wrong person’s blog. But I’m not really convinced Andrew or his new replacements, er... y’know. Care. About letting us know about all that cool shit. Or even dissuading us if we were somehow wrong. Just gonna... let us haaaang in the breeeze there forever, more likely. :T

...this is still what I’m most bitter about regarding the end of Homestuck, as you can obviously tell. Thinking -- still believing -- that we found something beautiful and deliberate he’d done, but refusing to have canon openly acknowledge any of it so that 99% of readers will never have a clue about it and the few of us who caught on -- if right -- are just regarded as nutters, and if wrong, NEVER have what we need to finally disprove and accept that wrongness thanks to his silence, thus continuing to believe wrongly and be regarded as nutters.

So I just keep reading and... vacillating. Vacillating on whether to believe any of this will get brought up in HS^2 canon, or whether to cynically fear they’ll take the worst route: Doing things EXACTLY like Andrew did and dropping only vague hints that keep it an implied-only, unconfirmed mystery forever. Because that’s what made the comic popular! And it’s “safe”. :(

...man, gut issues really bring the pessimist out of you, don’t they. Let’s keep reading. Once upon a time there was a simple farmer...

> ==>

Horrible kings kept fighting and didn’t care about the land, destroying it underneath their war. Right. (Mostly paraphrasing here and from now, mind you.)

> ==>

WV wanted to stop the kings, but the kings had power.

> ==>

That power had to be destroyed too. (Shows the rings.)

> ==>

Hm, the journey that ends up in the rings’ destruction to the desert? Are we going to fill in some context here?

> ==>

--And made friends with curious creatures and powerful people! (Showing the fake Can Town built with Dave and Karkat along the meteor trip.)

Assumedly internalizing all those practice-town lessons, of course.

> ==>

--Oh, cool! So one of the first things WV and PM did upon coming to Earth C to start their founding process was destroy the rings, the temptation of that power, throwing it into the Forge.

EDIT: krixwell said: "I don't know exactly how it reads in the bonus update because I'm not a patron, but WV and PM throwing the rings in the Forge happened before they entered Universe C, and was shown in HS proper (8107-8111, 8123-8126 and at the beginning of [S] Act 7). It was required to light the Forge and send the Genesis Tadpole to Skaia." Ah, file that under more things I forgot about, then.

> ==>

Where once nothing,

> ==>

Earth C was founded/born, etc.

> ==>

Ah okay! So with a backdrop of the Town Hall under construction, we’re getting some context specifically as to how and why the Mayor set up society the way he did on Earth C. Especially the challenging question of who would govern the world and how.

> ==>

Oh shit, text dump! :D

The problem was unfortunately compounded by the fact that when the topic of fair and effective governance is broached, most sparing intellects immediately assume a certain posture. Not one of surrender or admiration, but of abject and interminable boredom.

This fact makes it hard to treat such a fascinating subject with the proper amount of attention and enthusiasm, BUT WE SHALL DO OUR BEST TO UNDERSTAND REGARDLESS.

Alright, loving this.

Also, this’ll undoubtedly put into context just how MUCH the Mayor had to think about how society would work best to have set up -- and how little comparative thought Jane put into the process when just drafting up something United-States-like and familiar. Remember how awful it was the childlike way the Condesce essentially kept trying to recreate her familiar surroundings and rule structure on Earth? It was only natural that her Life-aspected protege would make similar errors, I suppose.

Back to reading this long page... I won’t just quote all the details of this representative system, because that’s up to y’all to pony up for. But I’ll note if there’s anything interesting in it that makes me think. Let’s see...

...Hm! The number of seats each kingdom got in parliament was based on voter turnout... THAT’S a heavy incentive to get out the vote, if your kingdom can literally lose influence if you don’t.

On the happy occasions where the maximum number of seats were allocated in all four quarters, this was known as a "full House".

Oh, fuck you. :)

...oh dear, that was only the beginning of the card slang.

I’m not going to list all of them here. They make sense in context, which is even worse.

Without going into too much detail, consorts all tend to have significantly shorter lifespans than the other citizens of Earth C. Because of this, a large number of House Rules were dedicated to describing exactly what to do if a seat was vacated mid-term due to the death of its occupant.

Not the carapacian kingdom, the consort kingdom. Don’t panic, y’all.

The DELIVERY OF JUSTICE (DoJ) was founded to keep the peace and arbitrate in all legal matters, and its members were the brave soldiers of God in this righteous crusade.

They also took care of the MAIL.

Oooooof course. :)

Unions get their rep, if only for a pun...

Oh, hm. The Mayor’s office is much like a ceremonial-only monarch’s office without serious power. Etc etc...... reading...

So governing Earth C was a complicated affair, and only became more convoluted over time. But the really important thing was that, despite all this complexity, it worked. It really worked. At one point, a whole field of mathematics was developed just to explain why the interim government worked so well, and they ended up proving it categorically. It was theoretically perfect.

Ppfffff

--ah. And then the Mayor has a chill as he looks at the clouds and somehow anticipates something terrible happening to it all.

That’s it for the bonus. I’m guessing the next chapter of this separate bonus story will go over some sort of threat the system endured, while the Mayor was still alive, possibly? Or cut forward to the creators’ arrival and how that fucked a bunch of stuff up? A sort of demonstration on why the gods who create a universe shouldn’t take charge of those living in it or such? Hm.

Alright, if that’s it for the bonus, let’s see what’s available for Patreon commentary... here we go, just the one for the latest mainline upd8 that I knew had come out.

Sketches and Commentary: Chapter 3, How Are Your Feelings

Before starting into this, I want to note that I do have SOME ray of hope for more Awake Jade involvement to shine against my previous rant -- because that OTHER callie-controlled younger Jade body is coming, which I’d forgotten about. As soon as the pursuit crew arrives in-system and THAT Jade finally gets there through whatever black-hole-powered teleportation magic she’s using (with Aradia and Robodave), it’ll be completely safe for OUR Jade to be awake and active at will. Theoretically.

So... y’know, that’s nice. Whenever that will happen.

So onto the commentary, we’re starting with that stupid ship.

(I think I actually said something along the lines of, "this is stupid, so we're using it." I know my Homestuck history. For those interested, the ship is modelled after a schooner, and continues the Homestuck tradition of spaceships that look like regular sea-faring vessels, only with additional stuff bolted on. - Pip)

...Yeah, can’t blame you there.

This is Jake’s “second best” ship. It makes me really nervous to think about what the third-best looks like.

Flying booty shorts, most likely.

...yeah, I did notice that latest upd8 playing with colors in a way the comic rarely even did, it was pretty nice. Glad to see they appreciate it too.

...Yep, Karkat getting owned just for the sake of it, there.

First off, Jade’s outfit. It rules. Alt!Callie may have violently forced her consciousness inside of this innocent girl’s brain, but damn these threads are sweet. She’s managed to keep Jade pretty on brand, while throwing in a couple embellishments of her own. That’s what we call “making it work”.

Yes, you’d better WELL fucking acknowledge what you’re doing by keeping Jade in a miserable isolated state for three years. A G A I N.

Nice bit about the casual showing of Dave’s eyes as evidence that Dave’s recovering through some of his old mental blocks.

Dave and Karkat are wearing each other’s shirts, which is traditionally a very gay thing to do. Even more notably perhaps is the fact that Karkat is wearing crimson without a hint of complaint. Again, I doubt this was an intentional move on his part. Just, sometimes you’re coming out of the shower, it’s chilly, and your boyfriend’s shirt fits. Busting through mental blocks should typically come across as whispers to me, rather than shouts.

--Hm, never considered the latter angle.

Karkat is being pretty mean to Possessed Jade. Which sucks, but this situation is incredibly stressful, and Karkat tends to react to stress by being mean. Treating Jade like an irritant allows him to put some distance between himself and the reality that he may have lost another friend.

Guh. That one stung :(

Initially the panel directions here were “everybody pauses to contemplate Dirk fucking Strider”

Mhmm, and you figured it’d be more unsettling to reverse it and remind us that the Prince is aware of all of this too.

Roxy’s heart-shaped sunglasses have become such a thing in the fandom that I kind of can’t imagine him without them at this point, so we decided to make it settled law.

Mhmm, I figured that was how they played it. One of the ways they’re incorporating fandom involvement.

Sometimes I feel like it should be Xam who does these commentaries, since there’s so much incredible shit going on with the art here that I’m really only equipped to comment on with shit like “oh wow, look at these colors. Green and purple huh. Wild. There’s also some light.”

It’s pretty understandable to have the writers take the lead on most commentary as opposed to the artists... normally.

But then you’d have the weird places where they’d have to work together without necessarily giving away their game. Like, all that WV/PM Breath/Blood visual representation I mentioned.

I still don’t know if they’re gonna give away the game on that eventually -- or if Andrew even gave them enough to go on to properly REPLICATE that sort of thing in this official continuation, even though my mind keeps telling me it’d make all sense to -- but if they are thinking about it, I doubt they’ll first show their hand in the commentary.

I love Kanaya’s new outfit.

I understand that sure, but will she be sticking with this outfit through the action though? Looking like a mourning nun?

Kanaya’s nursery story is, of course, The Little Prince, a French fairytale from the 1940’s. It tells the story, rather appropriately, of a young Prince traveling through space looking for something he believes he has lost.

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

I’m not sure why I keep thinking about this quote. Probably some shit that has to do with “themes” or something.

Hinting that once he’s beaten down and likely dying from this stupid exodus plan, at least some part of Dirk may finally realize that any fulfillment and purpose he was looking for with this megalomaniacal nonsense was left behind in the peaceful life he fucking ruined for everyone to do all this. The Heart-blind bastard.

God, Dave is just losing family members left and right, isn’t he? Really makes you think.

Gdi. :(

“Maybe it was naive to think a bunch of twenty something trauma victims could run a society.”

There it is. That’s the whole Epilogue.

And Andrew just had to let us ruin our naivety.

Wow. There really are just a whole lot of feelings in this chapter, aren’t there? It’s very aptly named. And it’s also actually the first part of HS^2 that got drafted; at least the first part that actually made it into the final draft. I wrote it earlier in 2019 when we were still kicking around ideas of what an Epilogue follow-up would actually look like.

Huh. Yeah, I can imagine when writing all this it would make sense to write/use this chapter first, as a knee-jerk reaction.

I do really think Karkat would have been a great president. He would have hated it, but he would have been good at it.

I’m glad the authors are in agreement with everyone else with a brain on this one.

Did you guys know that Karkat still feels immense survivor’s guilt for murderstuck?

Yes. Yes we did.

(Some continued remarks about how Karkat’s self-loathing is like a singularity that draws all blame onto himself in his mind etc.)

Apparently there was a metal gear reference in this second-to-last conversation? Don’t tell me, I don’t care.

Eat the fucking pancakes, dude.

A good place to end the commentary. See y’all when there’s more content!

#Homestuck #hs2 #upd8 #Homestuck Liveblog #Homestuck Commentary #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots

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orbemnews · 4 years ago

Link

Kinzinger is on a mission to save the Republican Party. The question is whether the party wants saving “That, I think, is the question,” said Kinzinger, who is beginning his sixth term as an Illinois congressman. “If it doesn’t want to be changed, that’s a decision Republicans get to make. If that’s the case long-term, I think we will lose elections and will be a regional party that won’t compete on the national stage.” He knows that his outspokenness could cost him his congressional seat. He’s already drawing a handful of potential GOP primary rivals who are making plans to challenge him, even as he faces a new district boundaries before 2022. He insists the risks were a price worth paying. “It could be a kamikaze mission,” said Kinzinger, 43, who joined the Air Force after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, and still flies as a pilot in the National Guard. “But it could be the thing that saves the Republican Party.” The first step to rebuilding the Republican Party, he said, is extracting it from the grips of Trump and what he sees as an ideology not rooted in conservatism, but in relentless fear and divisiveness. “Any time in the history of the party, there have been competing visions — except for now,” Kinzinger said in a hometown interview here at River Hawk Brewing, where patrons seem far more interested in happy hour than talking politics. “It’s just been Donald Trump’s vision and nobody else has said anything else. We have a right and a responsibility to offer competing visions to Republicans.” ‘I think I’ll survive’ The Republican Party is at a crossroads, yet it’s still Trump country in this stretch of Illinois, where flags are still spotted waving in support of the former President. More than four months after the election, the Trump signs still on display in some front yards make clear that not all Republicans are searching for a new vision for the party. Elected to Congress a decade ago with the rise of the Tea Party, Kinzinger is now at odds — and increasingly out of step — with the driving movement of his party. He backed Trump in November, he said, a vote that he began to regret after Trump intensified his false claims that the election was fraudulent. By January 6, when the US Capitol was attacked and Kinzinger was among the members of Congress whose life was threatened, his regret had immensely deepened. “Knowing what I know now?” Kinsinger said. “If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t vote for him.” Of the 17 Republicans who supported impeachment in the House and Senate, Kinzinger stands alone as trying to use that vote as a rallying cry to persuade others to join him in turning the page from the Trump era. He is the face of a new super PAC, Americans Keeping Country First, which his allies formed to help other Republicans stand against Trump in the midterm elections. So far, his phone isn’t exactly ringing off the hook. Yet he insists the journey is not as lonely as it may appear. “There’s a lot of people on board. They’re not just super public — especially in my business,” Kinzinger said. “I think a lot of folks are waiting to see where it goes. I don’t blame them.” Here in the sprawling Illinois 16th Congressional District, which stretches across 14 counties from the Wisconsin border, far beyond the western Chicago suburbs and back towards the Indiana line, Kinzinger outperformed Trump by 8 percentage points last fall. Illinois is poised to lose at least one congressional seat when district lines are redrawn later this year, raising the question of whether Kinzinger is going to be squeezed by state Republicans who have voiced their displeasure at his criticism of Trump. But even as he undoubtedly loses support among loyal Trump followers, he could be gaining a new look from other more moderate voters if his district is redrawn to include more of the suburbs near Chicago. The calculation of his re-election, he insists, is not why he’s waging a very public fight for the future of the Republican Party. “Even if I don’t survive long in this job, the reality is, I will have been part of history,” Kinzinger said. “Like in warfare, until you’re willing to put your life on the line — when you’re willing to put your job on the line, then you’re free.” He paused for a moment, before adding: “I think I’ll survive. But if I don’t, I don’t, and I’m at peace. But only in that understanding can you actually operate in truth.” His congressional district includes the town of Dixon, the boyhood home of former President Ronald Reagan, who inspired a young Kinzinger. “That optimistic, powerful, moral clarity that he had,” Kinzinger said. “It’s that kind of stuff that I think Americans are desperate for.” ‘I was a little surprised with Kinzinger’ Conversations with people in downtown Dixon on a recent morning were mixed. One business owner said he was furious at Kinzinger, whom he called “a showoff.” He declined to be identified because he said he feared it would hurt his business. A half-block away, another business owner took the opposite view and praised the congressman for standing up to Trump. He, too, feared being named because he said too many of his customers are diehard Trump admirers. Interviews with voters across the district, including here in his hometown about an hour southwest of Chicago, made clear that Kinzinger is making a name for himself — in ways good and bad. “When he went along with the impeachment of Trump, I thought, what is this guy thinking?” said Dick Tyler, a retiree who was having a late-afternoon beer, who voted for Trump. “But I’m glad there is somebody like an Adam Kinzinger who has the courage to speak out. I know it’s from his heart.” Some people here described his vote — and his criticism of Trump — as brave. Others question out loud whether it was politically calculated. “I was a little surprised with Kinzinger,” said Jeff Phelps, as he left breakfast the other morning. “I feel like you should be loyal to your party.” His wife, Angie, added: “I believe he’s looking out for political gain for himself.” Rick Cunningham, a science teacher who typically votes Republican, said he was proud that Kinzinger stood up to Trump and wishes more Republicans would follow suit. “He did what needed to be done. He took a stand for the Republican Party,” Cunningham said. “I just don’t think anybody deserves to have 100 percent allegiance. There’s got to be accountability for what Trump has done.” A divide has emerged here among Republican officials, too. The LaSalle County Republican Party voted last month to censure Kinzinger, following a long list of local GOP organizations seeking to rein in their members of Congress who supported impeachment. “If Adam wants to be a Republican, then act and talk like one be a team player,” Larry Smith, the county GOP chairman, said in an interview. “I think he’s seriously misjudged the nature of his district and the state in general.” Yet in neighboring Grundy County, party chairman Aren Hansen and his committee rejected an attempt to rebuke the congressman. “We’re not going to get anywhere as a party in Illinois if we have a party purity test at every turn. It’s okay to disagree,” Hansen said in an interview at the bar he owns, Honest Abe’s Tap & Grill, which decorated to pay homage to one of the state’s favorite Republican sons, Abraham Lincoln. “I don’t agree with his impeachment vote, but I’ll get over it.” Yet Trump loyalties here — and in red districts and states across the country — run deep. And many Republicans don’t believe their party is broken at all, a challenge that Kinzinger and others are confronting. “I think part of saving the Republican Party is just being really clear about what the Republican Party has become,” Kinzinger said, noting the legacies of Reagan and Lincoln in his state of Illinois. “We have such a great history, I think, but now we’re off the rails.” Source link Orbem News #Kinzinger #KinzingerisonamissiontosavetheRepublicanParty.Thequestioniswhetherthepartywantssaving-CNNPolitics #mission #party #Politics #question #Republican #save #saving

0 notes

dipulb3 · 4 years ago

Text

Kinzinger is on a mission to save the Republican Party. The question is whether the party wants saving

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/kinzinger-is-on-a-mission-to-save-the-republican-party-the-question-is-whether-the-party-wants-saving/

Kinzinger is on a mission to save the Republican Party. The question is whether the party wants saving

“That, I think, is the question,” said Kinzinger, who is beginning his sixth term as an Illinois congressman. “If it doesn’t want to be changed, that’s a decision Republicans get to make. If that’s the case long-term, I think we will lose elections and will be a regional party that won’t compete on the national stage.”

He knows that his outspokenness could cost him his congressional seat. He’s already drawing a handful of potential GOP primary rivals who are making plans to challenge him, even as he faces a new district boundaries before 2022.

He insists the risks were a price worth paying.

“It could be a kamikaze mission,” said Kinzinger, 43, who joined the Air Force after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, and still flies as a pilot in the National Guard. “But it could be the thing that saves the Republican Party.”

The first step to rebuilding the Republican Party, he said, is extracting it from the grips of Trump and what he sees as an ideology not rooted in conservatism, but in relentless fear and divisiveness.

“Any time in the history of the party, there have been competing visions — except for now,” Kinzinger said in a hometown interview here at River Hawk Brewing, where patrons seem far more interested in happy hour than talking politics. “It’s just been Donald Trump’s vision and nobody else has said anything else. We have a right and a responsibility to offer competing visions to Republicans.”

‘I think I’ll survive’

The Republican Party is at a crossroads, yet it’s still Trump country in this stretch of Illinois, where flags are still spotted waving in support of the former President. More than four months after the election, the Trump signs still on display in some front yards make clear that not all Republicans are searching for a new vision for the party.

Elected to Congress a decade ago with the rise of the Tea Party, Kinzinger is now at odds — and increasingly out of step — with the driving movement of his party.

He backed Trump in November, he said, a vote that he began to regret after Trump intensified his false claims that the election was fraudulent. By January 6, when the US Capitol was attacked and Kinzinger was among the members of Congress whose life was threatened, his regret had immensely deepened.

“Knowing what I know now?” Kinsinger said. “If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t vote for him.”

Of the 17 Republicans who supported impeachment in the House and Senate, Kinzinger stands alone as trying to use that vote as a rallying cry to persuade others to join him in turning the page from the Trump era. He is the face of a new super PAC, Americans Keeping Country First, which his allies formed to help other Republicans stand against Trump in the midterm elections.

So far, his phone isn’t exactly ringing off the hook. Yet he insists the journey is not as lonely as it may appear.

“There’s a lot of people on board. They’re not just super public — especially in my business,” Kinzinger said. “I think a lot of folks are waiting to see where it goes. I don’t blame them.”

Here in the sprawling Illinois 16th Congressional District, which stretches across 14 counties from the Wisconsin border, far beyond the western Chicago suburbs and back towards the Indiana line, Kinzinger outperformed Trump by 8 percentage points last fall.

Illinois is poised to lose at least one congressional seat when district lines are redrawn later this year, raising the question of whether Kinzinger is going to be squeezed by state Republicans who have voiced their displeasure at his criticism of Trump. But even as he undoubtedly loses support among loyal Trump followers, he could be gaining a new look from other more moderate voters if his district is redrawn to include more of the suburbs near Chicago.

The calculation of his re-election, he insists, is not why he’s waging a very public fight for the future of the Republican Party.

“Even if I don’t survive long in this job, the reality is, I will have been part of history,” Kinzinger said. “Like in warfare, until you’re willing to put your life on the line — when you’re willing to put your job on the line, then you’re free.”

He paused for a moment, before adding: “I think I’ll survive. But if I don’t, I don’t, and I’m at peace. But only in that understanding can you actually operate in truth.”

His congressional district includes the town of Dixon, the boyhood home of former President Ronald Reagan, who inspired a young Kinzinger.

“That optimistic, powerful, moral clarity that he had,” Kinzinger said. “It’s that kind of stuff that I think Americans are desperate for.”

‘I was a little surprised with Kinzinger’

Conversations with people in downtown Dixon on a recent morning were mixed.

One business owner said he was furious at Kinzinger, whom he called “a showoff.” He declined to be identified because he said he feared it would hurt his business. A half-block away, another business owner took the opposite view and praised the congressman for standing up to Trump. He, too, feared being named because he said too many of his customers are diehard Trump admirers.

Interviews with voters across the district, including here in his hometown about an hour southwest of Chicago, made clear that Kinzinger is making a name for himself — in ways good and bad.

“When he went along with the impeachment of Trump, I thought, what is this guy thinking?” said Dick Tyler, a retiree who was having a late-afternoon beer, who voted for Trump. “But I’m glad there is somebody like an Adam Kinzinger who has the courage to speak out. I know it’s from his heart.”

Some people here described his vote — and his criticism of Trump — as brave. Others question out loud whether it was politically calculated.

“I was a little surprised with Kinzinger,” said Jeff Phelps, as he left breakfast the other morning. “I feel like you should be loyal to your party.”

His wife, Angie, added: “I believe he’s looking out for political gain for himself.”

Rick Cunningham, a science teacher who typically votes Republican, said he was proud that Kinzinger stood up to Trump and wishes more Republicans would follow suit.

“He did what needed to be done. He took a stand for the Republican Party,” Cunningham said. “I just don’t think anybody deserves to have 100 percent allegiance. There’s got to be accountability for what Trump has done.”

A divide has emerged here among Republican officials, too.

The LaSalle County Republican Party voted last month to censure Kinzinger, following a long list of local GOP organizations seeking to rein in their members of Congress who supported impeachment.

“If Adam wants to be a Republican, then act and talk like one be a team player,” Larry Smith, the county GOP chairman, said in an interview. “I think he’s seriously misjudged the nature of his district and the state in general.”

Yet in neighboring Grundy County, party chairman Aren Hansen and his committee rejected an attempt to rebuke the congressman.

“We’re not going to get anywhere as a party in Illinois if we have a party purity test at every turn. It’s okay to disagree,” Hansen said in an interview at the bar he owns, Honest Abe’s Tap & Grill, which decorated to pay homage to one of the state’s favorite Republican sons, Abraham Lincoln. “I don’t agree with his impeachment vote, but I’ll get over it.”

Yet Trump loyalties here — and in red districts and states across the country — run deep. And many Republicans don’t believe their party is broken at all, a challenge that Kinzinger and others are confronting.

“I think part of saving the Republican Party is just being really clear about what the Republican Party has become,” Kinzinger said, noting the legacies of Reagan and Lincoln in his state of Illinois. “We have such a great history, I think, but now we’re off the rails.”

0 notes

voulezvous-rpg · 7 years ago

Photo

Congratulations, Katie! You’ve been accepted as your original character, The Sweetheart — Elodie Celestine, with a face claim of Caitlin Stasey!

Elodie’s twisted view of beauty brings along such fascinating possibilities in a world like this. She’s a girl who’s always been surrounded by art, who wants to both be and create something beautiful, which puts her around so many like minds here. Her naïveté, however, is what makes her stand out amongst her peers. She very much sees the world through her rose-coloured lenses, and with her desire to be desired growing stronger, I’m so excited to see just how long it takes before the realities of her world really start to set in. Thanks for bringing us such a lovely character, and I can’t wait to see her join us on the dash!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Katie

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 22

Timezone & Activity: EST, my activity is usually fairly high!

IN CHARACTER

Character Group: Dancer/courtesan.

Character Title: The Sweetheart

Name: Elodie Celestine, stage name Luna

FC: Caitlin Stasey

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 23

Occupation: Dancer, aspiring courtesan.

How long has your character been around the Moulin Rouge? 7 years. She began as an assistant, helping out with hair and makeup. She has been a dancer for 3 years.

How did the fire impact your character? To watch all of her dreams and the only real home she had ever known go up in smoke was devastating. It was her first brush with death and bitter loss, and at first she was unsure of what to do with herself. Should she look for a new profession, create herself a new dream? The thought alone was far too upsetting. The Moulin Rouge was her dream, the only thing she had ever really wanted. She used her savings to rent a small room in Paris with a friend until the rebuilding was complete, when she returned more eager than ever with her sights set on achieving her goals.

Biography: cw abuse, drug use

As a child of the stars it was only appropriate that Elodie be raised with her head in the clouds. Born to a pair of artists, a painter and a musician, from the moment she entered the world she has been taught the importance of beauty. It is in everything, her parents would tell her, in the swirls of silver in a cloud of smoke or the kelly green of a bruise left on her mother’s cheek. She was raised to believe that there was always something to appreciate, there was always hope, always beauty.

Her father was a drinker, for as long as she could remember. He always had been and always would be. She remembers the scent of absinthe and vodka heavy in his breath, filling his studio as he sang to her. His best work was created when his thoughts were muddied with green fairies and sweet wine. It was raw and real in a way that is only apparent to someone who had seen things both beautiful and terrible all at once. Viewers could see whatever they wanted in his work, and it sold as quickly as he could produce it. To someone who knew not the Celestine family’s lives behind closed doors, they were lucky.

The alcohol made him an artist but it also made him angry. He would come home with eyes as red as the paint that stained his shirt, as red as the blood that would fall from his knuckles as they collided against the feeble bone structure of her mother. Elodie remembers being seven years old the first time he hit her mother. She would turn to opium for the pain, and it would all be okay the next day. She remembers her mother letting Elodie practice covering her bruises with careful makeup application before giving up, reminding her daughter that these purples, yellows, greens that adorned her skin were beautiful in their way. It gave her mother something to write songs about. In this way, Elodie learned that beauty will bloom where it is planted.

It was easier this way. Foolish, maybe, but it was better to believe that for everything there was a reason. The holes her fathers hands left in the walls were opportunities to hang new paintings. The hours that turned to days of her mother being incapacitated and belligerent from the drugs were just longer spells for Elodie to play unattended. When your head resides in the clouds, everything is heavenly, and such is the way she has always lived her life.

In even the most tragic of circumstance, something beautiful could grow. Her father’s anger made the most beautiful paintings. Her mother’s pain wrote the most haunting music. These were the lessons that taught her to turn even the most hideous things into something hopeful, beautiful. As her parents ran themselves and their love into the ground, Elodie reminded herself that perhaps they were only planting seeds of something new.

The glittering lights of the Moulin Rouge caught her eye one evening, walking home from her mother’s performance in a local vaudeville show. She stole peeks through the doors, opening and closing as visitors entered and left, stricken by the glamour and beauty of it all. Tulle skirts, jewels catching the stage lights, music that sounded different from anything she had ever heard; the Moulin Rouge was the most wonderful place she had ever seen, and she simply had to find a way in.

She had learned enough playing with her mother’s makeup to earn herself a job as an assistant to the stylist. How fitting it was, though, how she was able to turn something plain into something beautiful with just a little bit of work. It was a lovely job, one that she enjoyed, but she always wanted to be like the starlets that took the stage. She saw how confident and beautiful they were underneath the bright lights, roses from adoring fans falling at their heel-clad feet. It took lots of hard work and practice, but eventually she earned a position as a dancer.

However, she is not satisfied. (Is she ever?) There is always opportunity to grow. The courtesans are so happy-go-lucky, always the most gorgeous people in the room. All eyes fell on them when they entered any space. Elodie wants to feel the same way, she wants to be as beautiful and confident as the other girls. Through her rose colored glasses, the extravagant life of the courtesans is one that she can see herself fitting into: being the object of attention, something people will pay to love. Isn’t that the most beautiful thing she could be?

Potential Plot Points: I would be interested to see her rise to becoming a courtesan, perhaps realizing that it is not the beautiful glamorous life she has built it up to be. I think she could be easily corrupted when exposed to the underbelly of the Moulin, as she is always looking for the good in things. I also think that she could struggle as she is presented with some of the darker things going on in the club, especially with her family’s history of drug and alcohol abuse. On one hand, she would be intrigued remembering the beautiful results that come from such things, but on the other hand she cannot forget (though she tries to) the disasters they bring, as well.

FREESTYLE

Her pinterest board is here.

Headcanons:

Elodie is very pleasant with all of the patrons alike, always looking for something good in each of them — even if it’s hard to see.

The Moulin Rouge is her heart and her home. In the past seven years, she has worked hard in every position that has been presented to her, always searching to keep climbing that beautiful ladder until she reaches the top.

She does not go home so much, anymore. In fact, after the fire, she did not even contact her parents to tell them of the tragedy. Elodie always pushes onward and upward, striving to be better each day.

Personality:

+ Positive. She is always looking for something good in everything, even the worst of situations.

— Naive. When you wear rose colored glasses, red flags aren’t as apparent.

+ Bubbly. She sees no reason not to be happy when she is working towards everything she has ever wanted in the Moulin Rouge.

— Self destructive. She will do whatever she has to if it will make her beautiful or lovely.

#accepted #accepted: the sweetheart

2 notes · View notes

plotmoney9-blog · 5 years ago

Text

The ultimate guide to Guaranteed Rate Field

Though its neighbor—and bitter rival—to the north might grab more national attention and tourist dollars, Chicago’s South Side ballpark is a fun and relatively affordable place to watch Major League Baseball. Wrigley Field is known as the friendly confines, but Sox Park can be equally welcoming and family-oriented despite the neighborhood’s rougher-around-the-edges, blue-collar reputation.

The White Sox fanbase is a diverse, enthusiastic, and unpretentious bunch that takes a relaxed but no-nonsense approach to the game. When the White Sox have a terrible year (and they’ve had more than a few), the franchise has never been able to hide behind a “lovable losers” persona and still enjoy sell-out crowds like the Cubs.

The White Sox’s 2005 World Series win may still be fresh in the minds of loyal fans but for other Chicagoans—and sports network ESPN—the team’s most recent triumph is often forgotten. The situation can be seen as a microcosm of how the media covers—or rather doesn’t cover—the South Side.

This year’s team is young and looks poised for another rebuilding season, but there are still compelling arguments to head to the ballpark to enjoy a game in 2019.

Whether you’re visiting because you’re a diehard Sox fan, there to see a visiting team play, or just put off by Wrigley Field’s pricey tickets, here’s everything you need to know about the home of the Chicago White Sox—starting with what to call the place.

Like the classic 1910 ballpark it replaced in 1991, the current stadium was originally named Comiskey Park after White Sox founder Charles Comiskey. In 2003, U.S. Cellular purchased the naming rights and rebranded the facility as U.S. Cellular Field. Though the change angered traditionalists, most fans shrugged it off. Some even embraced “The Cell” as a nickname.

Just when the sting losing Comiskey was starting to wear off, the venue officially changed its name once again after retail mortgage lender Guaranteed Rate penned a 13-year deal to call the stadium Guaranteed Rate Field in 2016. Once more, outrage ensued. The Chicago Sun-Times even published an article titled “There can’t be a worse name than Guaranteed Rate Field. Can’t be.” The agreement also came with universally unloved corporate signage sporting a big, red downward facing arrow.

With the Sears Tower becoming Willis and the John Hancock Center dropping its famous moniker, Chicagoans tend to be a stubborn bunch when it comes to clinging to old names. Sure, some folks are calling the park “G Rate,” but for an older generation it simply never stopped being Comiskey. For others, the all-encompassing term “Sox Park” can apply to all of the above and rolls off the tongue with greater ease.

Bottom line, there’s nothing wrong with using the stadium’s correct Guaranteed Rate Field name. At the same time, no one’s going to look down you for choosing to keep it old school.

The exterior of the ballpark is an example of restrained postmodernism.

Getty Images

From an architectural standpoint, Guaranteed Rate Field was conceived during an awkward time in sports stadium design. Built in 1991, the postmodern structure lacked not only an emotional connection to the outdated stadium it replaced but also the quirks and charms found in the newer wave of “retro classic” ballparks like Baltimore’s trend-setting Camden Yards.

Ten years later, White Sox ownership eventually undertook a major multi-phase renovation project to address one of the ballpark’s least loved features: its terrifyingly too-high upper-deck. In all, 6,600 seats were removed during the process. The remaining bright blue seats were swapped out for more traditional forest green colored replacements.

Fans initially found the stadium’s upper deck—seen in this 1995 photo—to be too tall and steep. Management eventually redesigned this section to be less scary.

Getty Images

A darker color scheme spread to other parts of the stadium which played to the Sox’s “Good guys wear black” marketing mantra. Other steps to bring more character and personality to the ballpark including realigning the outfield fencing to be less symmetrical and, hopefully, spice up the gameplay.

On its surface, Guaranteed Rate Field is a perfectly fine professional baseball venue but it will always face unfavorable comparisons to the former Comiskey Park and, of course, Wrigley Field. Both older stadiums were even designed by the same architect, Zachary Taylor Davis.

It’s been said that a bad day at the ballpark still beats a good day at the office. But if you can’t skip out of work for the midday home opener against the Seattle Mariners on April 4, there are lots of other great games worthy of your hard-earned dollars.

Specialty nights

The ballpark’s specialty games include heritage nights (Polish, Italian, Greek, and Hispanic!) as well as Elvis, the Beatles, Star Wars, and country music themes. Even the most serious fans can’t help but embrace the fun of “Mullet Night.” These themed events are typically accompanied by post-game fireworks.

Dog Day

Guaranteed Rate also offers a quick-to-sell-out annual Dog Day during which the outfield sections get overrun by furry four-legged Sox fans and their human companions. In 2016, the stadium’s “Bark at the Park” set a new Guinness World Record for the most canines at a live sporting event.

Family Sundays

The 2019 home season will feature 12 “Family Sundays” with tickets as low as $5 in the upper level and $15 in the lower level. These games include kid-focused activities throughout the concourse level and the opportunity for little ones to run the bases afterward.

Crosstown Classic

Save for another run at the World Series, arguably the most important White Sox games of the year take place during the crosstown rivalry against the dreaded Chicago Cubs. With bragging (gloating?) rights on the line, there’s perhaps no other series each Chicago fanbase would most like to see their respective team win.

This year, the series features two games at each stadium. The bitter rivals will square off at Wrigley Field on June 18 and 19 before heading south to Guaranteed Rate Field on July 6 and 7.

The stadium’s lights are switched off for a postgame fireworks show.

Getty Images

CTA

When it comes to getting to and from the home of the Chicago White Sox, fans have multiple options with the easiest—and most affordable—being public transit. CTA riders have two options: the Green Line stop at 35th Street-Illinois Institute of Technology and the Red Line’s easy to remember Sox-35th Street stop. For Metra riders, the Rock Island Line utilizes the nearby ‘35th Street / ‘Lou’ Jones’ station. All are within a five-minute walk of the park.

Parking

If you must drive, Guaranteed Rate is still relatively convenient due to its proximity to the Dan Ryan Expressway and over 7,000 nearby parking spaces. The sea of asphalt surrounding the ballpark lends itself well to pre-game tailgating—something that Wrigley Field will never have.

Many ticket packages include prepaid vouchers that correspond to specific lots. Fans can also pay on game day to park in lots F, L, or G for $20 Monday through Saturday and $10 for Sunday games. Official White Sox parking lots accept both cash and credit cards.

The White Sox affiliated lots open approximately two hours before each game, unless noted otherwise, and close 30 minutes after games conclude. Post-game tailgating is strictly forbidden. Additional info on lot locations, parking coupons, and priority accommodations for guests who are physically disabled can be found here.

Uber and Lyft

Patrons of Guaranteed Rate Field can also make use of the various ride-hailing companies. Uber is the “preferred rideshare partner” of the White Sox and has a dedicated pickup zone in Lot A marked by flags. First time Uber users (if such people still exist in 2019?) can get $15 off their ride with the promo code ChiWhiteSox. Taxis queue on 35th Street between Gates 4 and 6.

Biking

Bicycle racks are located between Gates 2 and 3 and along 35th Street by Gate 5. Users of Chicago’s Divvy bike share networks will find the closest station at the southwest corner of Wentworth Avenue and 35th Street. Other nearby Divvy docks include Armour Square Park and various locations around the Illinois Institute of Technology campus.

A map of Guaranteed Rate Field’s official parking lots and its three nearby train stations.

White Sox

Since Guaranteed Rate was designed with minimal overhangs and obstructions, there’s really no such thing as a bad seat. The mostly open-sky nature of the ballpark, however, should be a consideration when rain is threatening—so prepare accordingly. With only the back 10 rows of the lower level covered, most seats are exposed to the elements. Smaller umbrellas are allowed but the larger golf-style are prohibited.

An overview of Guaranteed Rate Field’s seating sections, gates, restaurants, and souvenir shops.

White Sox

100s

The lower 100 level of the park features both individual and bleacher seats and the most extensive selection when it comes to food, drinks, and souvenirs. The 100 level includes the Bullpen Porch in right field, the turf-side Craft Kave (spelled with a backward K), and center field’s CBIC Fan Deck which can be reserved for large group events. History buffs can check out a shower from old Comiskey located near Section 161. The functional fixture is also a great way to cool off on a hot day.

Fans taking advantage of old Comiskey Park shower.

Getty Images

300s

Moving higher in the stadium is the 300 level. This area includes the ballpark’s posh private skyboxes as well as a band of premium outdoor seats served by attentive wait staff. Tickets here are obviously more expensive but come with perks such as access to indoor lounge seating, specialty concessions, and the Skyline Sports Bar.

500s

The ballpark’s upper deck might be the best value in baseball, but a 500 level ticket can carry restrictions that limit access to the lower concourses and concessions. If you are hoping to explore everything Guaranteed Rate has to offer, a 500 level ticket may not be the way to go. Ticket checking can be an inconsistent affair, so sneaking lower is possible but certainly not guaranteed.

Guaranteed Rate Field has elevated its food options in recent years with diverse selection including Polish pierogis, Cuban sandwiches, Irish nachos (tater tots instead of chips), tamales, Italian beef, and deep-dish pizza.

New for this year is a partnership with Chicago-based Antique Taco, which has taken over the two taco stands on the stadium’s main concourse. Vegans also have an additional option as well thanks to the Impossible Burger, available on the club level.

There are also old standbys like the Comiskey Dog, a Vienna Beef frank served on a soft poppy seed bun. Order it with “the works”— toppings of yellow mustard, chopped onions, sweet pickle relish, a dill spear, tomatoes, sport peppers, and a dash of celery salt. Add ketchup at your own peril.

Another fan favorite is elotes—or corn off the cob topped with salt, butter, cayenne pepper, cheese, mayo, and lime. The savory Mexican treat features corn freshly shucked off the cob, never from a can.

A number of ballparks across the country serve ice cream or nachos in miniaturized plastic baseball helmets, but G-Rate ups the ante by offering both in full, adult-sized hard hats. Featuring no less than 12 scoops of the cold stuff, the park’s three-pound sundae (estimated to contain up to 5,000 calories) is best shared with friends. Or not. This is Chicago after all. No one will judge.

When it comes to adult beverages, the park continues to up its craft beer game. There’s a new focus on local breweries at the Revolution-branded bar in left field and a rebranded Goose Island seating section and beer garden in right field. Keep in mind that these high-brow brews tend to command premium prices say over a Bud or Miller Lite. Beer sales stop after the last out of the 7th inning.

For the first time, Sox Park will offer boozy warm drinks, including apple cider is spiked with Fireball and hot chocolates with Jim Beam whisky and Patrón tequila. Both come served in a souvenir mug and are available on both the 100 and 500 level concourses, says Eater.

Guaranteed Rate’s swankiest culinary option is the fine-dining Stadium Club managed by Levy Restaurants. Access here, however, is reserved for members holding season tickets plus an additional $1000 per year. Unless you’re a high-roller or a guest of a member, chances are you’re not getting in the glass-walled restaurant overlooking right field.

So how are the White Sox looking? Well, considering that the team lost 18 of its final 24 games to finish the 2018 season with a .383 record, the ballclub isn’t necessarily expected to set the baseball world on fire.

That being said, the 2019 White Sox have a handful of experienced players and plenty of young talent that could hold the key to turning another rebuilding season into a winner one. Here are some players—and other personalities—to know.

Top prospect Eloy Jiménez will make his highly anticipated major league debut with the Sox, starting at left field on opening day. The 22-year-old Dominican-born player signed a six-year, $43 million contract in March and expectations couldn’t be higher. Is Jiménez a superstar in the making? South Siders are hoping the answer is yes.

Another player to watch is 26-year-old shortstop Tim Anderson. In 2017 the team offered Anderson a six-year contract worth $25 million, a White Sox record for a player with less than one full year with the club. This season should provide Anderson with an opportunity to cement his position as a team leader—and also improve upon last season’s slump.

With such a youthful lineup, the team will lean heavily on the experience of 32-year-old first baseman Jose Abreu, who is on the last year of his contract. The popular Cuban-born player has five seasons with the White Sox under his belt, but some speculate that this year might be his last.

There are some important off-field names to know too. Some locals will recognize a familiar voice over Guaranteed Rate’s public address system. It belongs to announcer Gene Honda who lends his vocal service to both the Chicago Blackhawks and DePaul University basketball.

Southpaw, the White Sox’s green, fur-covered mascot made his Major League debut in 2004. The name references not only a baseball term for a left-handed pitcher but the team’s home on the South Side of Chicago. While some fans have theorized that Southpaw is modeled on a reptile or a dirty sock, he’s “just a big fuzzy green dude,” according to an interview.

Every Chicagoan is—or at least should be—familiar with the name Jerry Reinsdorf. Team owner of not only the White Sox since 1981 but also the six championship-winning Chicago Bulls, Reinsdorf is one of the most influential figures in Chicago sports.

The outspoken owner has always done his part to stoke the cross-town rivalry. “The North Siders always tended to look down on South Siders,” Reinsdorf told Newsweek in 1990. “Part of being a White Sox fan is you hate the Cubs.”

Though we associate the stadium-wide singing of Take Me Out the Ballgame with the Cubs during the 7th inning stretch, the tradition actually originated at old Comiskey.

It all started in 1976 when White Sox owner Bill Veeck noticed broadcaster Harry Caray humming along whenever the organ played the tune. Veeck convinced the reluctant announcer to grab his microphone and sing along.

With that, the song went from background music to a show-stopping event. Caray left for the Cubs in 1982 and his 7th inning act soon became part of Cubs folklore as well.

Like their neighbors to the north with Go Cubs Go, the White Sox have a song that is uniquely their own. Titled Let’s Go, Go-Go White Sox the tune debuted in 1959 and is a college-style fight song in a similar vein to Bear Down. The song is played after big run-scoring plays. The words are usually up on the video board, so sing along!

For years AC/DC’s Thunderstruck has been tasked with pumping up the fans before the home team takes the field. The song was briefly removed from the pregame playlist in 2015 only to quickly return after a tweet-storm from angry fans. The classic rock tune is accompanied by firework blasts from the stadium’s trademark exploding scoreboard.

Source: https://chicago.curbed.com/2018/3/28/17137530/guaranteed-rate-field-guide-seating-food-parking

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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crimethinc · 8 years ago

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March 18, 1871: The Birth of the Paris Commune

The year is 1871. Revolution has just established a democratic government in France, following the defeat of emperor Napoleon in the war with Germany. But the new Republic satisfies no one. The provisional government is comprised of politicians who served under the Emperor; they have done nothing to satisfy the revolutionaries’ demands for social change, and they don’t intend to. Right-wing reactionaries are conspiring to reinstate the Emperor or, failing that, some other monarch. Only rebel Paris stands between France and counterrevolution.

The partisans of order have their work cut out for them. First, they have to get the French people to accept the unpopular terms of surrender dictated by Germany. To force the armistice on its citizens, the new Republic bans the radical Clubs and shuts down the newspapers, threatening Paris with the combined armies of two nations. Only then, after warrants have been issued to arrest the insurgents who overthrew the emperor, do elections take place.

With the radicals in prison or in hiding, the conservatives win the elections. The chief victor is the banker Adolphe Thiers, Proudhon’s old nemesis, who helped to sell out the revolution of 1848—if not for him, the emperor might not have been able to seize power in the first place. Propelled into office by voters from the provincial countryside, Thiers’ first act is to negotiate peace with Germany at a cost of five billion francs.

This strikes Thiers as a cheap price to pay to take the reins of the state—especially since the French people will be paying it, not him personally. And should they refuse? He would still rather fight France than Germany.

One of the terms of Thiers’ surrender is that German troops are permitted a victory march through the capital. After starving through months of siege, this is the last thing the Parisians want. Rumors spread that the Germans are coming to loot the city. The Vigilance Committees that sprung up after the revolution continue meeting, despite the ban.

On the night of February 26, tens of thousands of rebellious members of the National Guard gather downtown on the Champs-Elysées in defiance of government orders. Alongside them are stone-faced revolutionaries like Louise Michel, a forty-year-old schoolteacher from the suburb of Montmartre. Together, they break open the prison in which the latest round of political prisoners are held and set them free. Then they wait in the frigid darkness for the Germans to come, preparing to die for Paris.

Seizing the cannons.

When dawn still shows no sign of the invaders, the rebels seize the cannons that remain in Paris from the war. These cannons were paid for by donations collected from the poor during the siege; the rebels believe they rightfully belong to those who are prepared to use them to defend the city, not to the politicians who have betrayed it or the Germans who are coming to disarm and humiliate it. They drag the heavy guns from the wealthy district back through the hovels and trash-heaps of their own neighborhoods to park them on the hilltop of Montmartre.

On March 1, 1871, the German troops finally enter Paris. They stick to downtown, avoiding the restless slums. The shops are all closed; the statues along the parade route wear black hoods and black flags fly from the buildings. Ragged hordes watch from a distance through narrowed eyes; their cold stares make the well-fed Germans shiver. The occupiers withdraw to camp outside the city to the east.

Days later, Thiers’ government announces that landlords can immediately claim rent payments that were suspended during the siege. All debts are due with interest within four months, and the moratorium on the sale of pawned goods is canceled. The salaries of the National Guard are also canceled, except for those who can demonstrate special need. It will take all this and more to pay the terms of the peace Thiers has signed.

On the morning of March 18, Montmartre wakes to find the walls plastered with a proclamation. In patronizing tones, Adolphe Thiers explains that—for the sake of public order, democracy, the Republic, the economy, and their own skins—the honest people of Paris must turn over the cannons, along with the criminals by whom they have been led astray:

To carry out this act of justice and reason, the government counts on your assistance. It believes that the good citizens will separate from the bad, and will support, instead of resisting, public opinion… Having received this notice, you will now approve our recourse to force, because there must be peace, without a day’s delay.

The cannons of the National Guard on the hilltop of Montmartre.

On the previous evening, Louise Michel had climbed to the crest of Montmartre to bear a message to the rebel Guardsmen watching the cannons. It was late, so she stayed overnight at their headquarters. All night, suspicious characters kept turning up with stories that didn’t make sense, pretending to be drunk, trying to get a look at the hilltop.

She awakens to gunfire. It is still dark. By the time she is on her feet, French troops loyal to Thiers are already in control of the building. They arrest the men and ransack the house, but take little notice of her—she is a woman, after all. After the troops have secured the area, they bring in a captured Guardsman who has been shot. Michel tears strips from her dress to staunch his bleeding.

Montmartre’s liberal mayor arrives. Michel can only shake her head at his dismay: he is concerned about the injured Guardsman, but above all he hopes the troops will take the cannons away swiftly before his constituents get unruly. Not knowing that Michel has already dressed the Guardsman’s wound, he asks for clean bandages. Michel offers to go out for them.

“You’re certain you’ll return?” He gives her a sidelong glance.

“I give my word,” answers Michel, deadpan.

As soon as she passes out of view, she is sprinting down the hill through the dim streets, past small knots of early risers reading Thiers’ proclamation posted on the walls. She is yelling out “Treason!” at the top of her lungs when she turns onto the street where the headquarters of the local Vigilance Committee are. Her friends are already there; they grab their guns and rush back up the hill with her. In the distance, the drums of the National Guard can be heard, beating out the call to arms.

Now the streets are thronged: bearded Guardsmen, young men in shirtsleeves fumbling with their rifles, women in twos and threes. They thicken into a human sea, rushing upwards. Ahead of them, Michel sees the hill, crowned in the first soft light of day. At the top, an army waits in full battle array. She and her friends are going to die. The effect of this revelation is almost exhilarating.

Suddenly, Michel’s mother is beside her in the crowd. “Louise, I haven’t seen you in days! Where have you been? You’re not going to get mixed up in all this, are you?”

When she reaches the crest of the hill, the crowd has already breached the infantry cordon. The soldiers are surrounded. Women are heckling Thiers’ troops:

“Where are you taking those cannons? Berlin?”

“No—they’re taking them back to Emperor Napoleon!”

“You can fire on us, but not on the Prussians, eh?”

A shame-faced officer pleads with a matron who has planted herself between a cannon and the horses pulling it. “Come, my good woman, get out of the way.”

“Go on, you coward,” she yells back, “Shoot me in front of my children!”

“Cut the cables!” someone shouts from the back of the crowd. A knife passes from hand to hand until it reaches the woman blocking the cannon. She cuts the straps attaching it to the horses. The crowd cheers.

Troops clashing with Parisians.

General Lecomte himself rides up, high and haughty. He assumes command in a voice that resounds above the tumult: “Soldiers! Prepare arms!”

A hush falls. The soldiers ready their weapons. They look pale. Someone cries, “Don’t shoot!” but the crowd does not fall back.

“Aim!”

A line of matching rifles goes up. A woman is trembling; another grips her arm, sneering at the young men in their army uniforms. Behind them, Michel and her friends raise their rifles as well. They see that some of the soldiers are shaking too.

“Fire!” There is an instant’s pause.

An officer throws down his weapon and steps out of the ranks. “Fuck this!”

“Turn your rifles around!” someone else shouts. This is the moment Michel will always remember.

The next day, the red flag flies over the Town Hall—the flag of the people, the flag they should have raised in 1848. The Vigilance Committees occupy the neighborhood administrative buildings. Lecomte has been shot. Thiers and his henchmen have fled to the nearby town of Versailles with the remains of the military. The financiers have retreated to their country estates. Victor Hugo has run away to Belgium. From the East, the German troops are waiting to see whether the French government can subdue this new revolution, fearful it might spread across Europe.

Paris is in the hands of commoners known only to each other. Mysteriously, the city has never been so peaceful.

The artillery park of Montmartre, March 18, 1871.

This is a selection from our forthcoming narrative history of anarchism, which we hope eventually to finish—if only the struggles of the present would offer us some respite. In the meantime, if you want to learn more, for starters, you could try:

A l’Assaut du Ciel—: la Commune Racontée, Raoul Dubois

Surmounting the Barricades: Women in the Paris Commune, Carolyn J. Eichner

Unruly Women of Paris: Images of the Commune, Gay L. Gullickson

The Paradise of Association: Political Culture and Popular Organizations in the Paris Commune of 1871, Martin Phillip Johnson

History of the Paris Commune of 1871, Prosper Olivier Lissagaray

La Commune, Louise Michel

The Red Virgin: Memoirs of Louise Michel

Louise Michel, Edith Thomas

The Women Incendiaries, Edith Thomas

Louise Michel

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archivesdiveronaevents · 8 years ago

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DATE: January 9th, 2017

LOCATION: The Colosseum

TIME: 3:00 PM

The Colosseum is alight with a mid-afternoon glow, the sunlight tentatively warming the dust of the arena and the skin of those who have come to worship at the altar of tradition, of the pride of a city and its kings. Utterances of the day’s beauty slip from the mouths of spectators, prayers of thanksgiving they may or may not have meant to say.

Una bella giornata. Even the heavens have given their blessing.

A gentle breeze breathes life into the many colorful flags of the slowly assembling parade, toying cheekily with the flaps of the contrada member’s tunics like a child come to enjoy the festivities. The horses, too, seem touched by a deity, coats slick and shining and ears pricked to the sounds of the Palio: the chorus of voices that seems to float on the wind, the faint blaring of trumpets in the distance. Each who enters the amphitheatre pauses to admire the raw elegance of it all, a glimpse of living history surrounded by the opulence of a new order. As they search for their seats—or if they’re brave enough to situate themselves in the thick of the procession, their spot beneath the white tent enclosed by the barrier—they can’t help but think that it’s not terribly hard to believe that something holy happened here, that something holy might happen again.

It began as a celebration of the appearance of an apparition—Madonna di Provenzano, named for her sightings near estates owned by a gentleman of that name—and evolved into something of a tradition among the contradas and then among the families that hailed from them as the years went on. There are few things men love more than the feeling of self-importance inevitably brought about by the visitation of a spirit, but the most prominent of these is their pomp, their pride, so it should come as no surprise to any deities watching that the Palio has shed some of its baser traits in favor of luxury, of the glint of gold, silver, and the jewels that accompany them. There are pilgrims of two kinds in the crowd today: those who worship the God said to have walked the earth, and those who worship the gods who still do.

The last of the historical procession fall into place, flags held high and shoulders back—ready, at last, to offer sacrifice. The call of a trumpet demands that every spectator lend both their eyes and their ears, and they do so willingly (nothing can quiet a person quite like the presence of divinity). Then, as if on cue, the stallion bearing the flag of Verona surges forward in a pompous prance, head held high in the sort of arrogance that befits magnificent beasts like him, and the colosseum erupts into cheers, each patron craning their neck to catch a glimpse first of the beautiful costumes and then of the competitors, the true stars of the afternoon. The parade makes its way through the arena, trumpeters, drummers, and flag-bearers heralding the arrival of the barberos and barbarescos—the race-horses and their jockeys.

A blood bay decked in emerald green and royal blue leads the charge, spiriting forward at a trot that demands his lead horse break into a canter in order to keep up. Murmurs about his energy—be it of promise or nerves—arise as he passes, setting the bar high for the judgment of those horses he precedes. Next comes a dappled grey donning red and white, unique both in its coloring and its tepid temperament. Had it been a gloomy day, the wise gamblers would’ve put their money on him, for it’s been said that in rainy conditions, the only grey horse in the field will seize the crown. But alas, the sun shines down on Verona this fine afternoon, and the ashen sheen of his coat rewards him little more than momentary interest.

The same cannot be said for the horse cloaked in purple and silver, a dark brown bay with four white socks, but the attention he garners is hardly positive. It’s been said that a chrome horse brings nothing but bad luck, and the people of Verona are considerably superstitious (why, they’re here, aren’t they?); thus, the gelding who precedes Cosimo Capulet’s horse is met with suspicion and dread—raised eyebrows, scoffs, and every slightly insulting gesture imaginable in between. But the horse bearing the Capulet crest, a fiery chestnut with an immaculate white stripe down his nose and a lone sock on his right foreleg—the mark of a swift steed, some say–draws attention to himself in a pleasing way. The sunlight hits his reddish coat and paints him nearly scarlet, a sight even if it weren’t for the silver nearly dripping from his tack. The spectators’ eyes linger, sizing him up against the others who have come before him, and many raise their pencils to jot down their bets.

But those who are none too eager to throw their lots in so prematurely wait for what they hope will be an earthquake among tremors; it’s no secret that the Montagues have won the Palio Cup more times than one could count, and they’ve garnered a bit of a reputation for running some of the finest horses in the field. Those who pause in anticipation are not disappointed; the glossy black stallion bearing the Montague crest is every bit the stud they’d expected (if not more), but all traces of gold, save for the threads woven into his saddle blanket, are gone, replaced with black alone—the color of mourning. He’s a sight, surely, but the unusual circumstances regarding his colors perplex the audience far more than the dilemma of their wagers ever could, and murmurs arise as he passes, pitch black flag waving. “They scratched him, did you know? The Montagues scratched him.”

“I do have to wonder why, as wasn’t he the favorite?”

“He was; it said so. I liked his odds.”

“Damiano did lose a dear friend a few weeks ago; perhaps he’s withdrawn in his honor.”

All is quiet for several moments following the unveiling of Verona’s most prized steeds, and then the silence breaks. Ladies in divine silk brocades and gentlemen in suits of splendor alike surge forward to snatch their ticket and place their bets, their conspiratorial whispers a buzz throughout the Colosseum. “Which one, which one, darling?” “I like the look of that dappled fellow!” “Pass the program, who’s the jockey for number six?” “Brielle King, she’s the one to look out for, the one riding the black bay!” “Why, I heard she came in from the east specifically to ride.” Binoculars press indentations into porcelain faces, lacquered nails flip through the Daily Racing Form and programs. There is endless energy to be found in glamour and the fleeting distraction of gambling, and the stadium is alive with anticipation, their collective breaths held as they cast their bets. Anything can happen, anyone can win, and anyone can profit.

“In bocca al lupo!” Someone cries.

“Crepi il lupo!” Another answers.

TASK: Among the most decadent and powerful of Verona, there is no short of vices and sins, and certainly no shame. Your task is to pick one of the seven deadly sins (pride, covetousness, lust, anger, gluttony, envy, and sloth) and describe how your character embodies it. Bonus points if you can relate it to their event ensemble!

Please tag your character’s ensemble/ensemble descriptions as #diveronaraces and your event interactions as #event: races. There is no deadline to complete the task, so take as much time with it as you feel necessary.

#act i #scene iii

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imuskansameer · 5 years ago

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Technical Publishing - What Should a Good Paperwork Wiki Site Look Like

Are you currently thinking about taking the plunge into the planet of web 2.0 with your library and making a wiki? I recently assembled a successful wiki for my college library and so I want to share some success techniques for how to accomplish it successfully.Which wiki platform are you going to use? That is crucial since there are hundreds hidden wiki of these out there and all of them vary in terms of simplicity of use, price, and setup along with the capacity to control who is able to view your wiki along with who will post to your wiki. Do you want to use your wiki exclusively as a way of organizing and changing material on your own website? Or do you want to use the wiki to permit your patrons to interact with one another?What's the exact purpose for the wiki? To communicate between library employees? To communicate with your patrons? To let your patrons communicate with each other?What content are you currently going to incorporate on your wiki? Just links to other pages on your library site, a searchable library catalog, details about library classes and events, popular books, news and announcements or other things?Do you intend to pay for a wiki service or do you intend to make use of a free wiki? Can there be a technology support person available to assist you install your wiki and to aid with some periodic maintenance? Or even, do you have a librarian who is able to take charge of the wiki and its updates and the technological side of maintaining a wiki? A wiki is a lot easier to make use of and match on a regular website, however, you can't just put it down and never spend some time taking care of it. Additionally, it helps if you're able to develop some wiki specific content. In our case we created subject pages for each of the major subjects taught at our college and included links to databases, magazines, books, ebooks, specialized encyclopedias and websites for every single subject. We also have our library news and policies amongst other components of interest to your patrons on our wiki. You'll need to give your patrons a reason to read the wiki and to use it.

Search Wiki is an energetic search tool that allows users to customize the Google search result page by re-ranking, deleting, adding and commenting on search results. The feature can be obtained just for logged-in users. It is a big deal for Google, they have just taken the first faltering step of launching its basic version and other processes like vandalism, libel, history, messiness, collaboration and other wiki matters remain hidden.Will Search Wiki affect rankings? Currently it doesn't have any influence on the entire ranking algorithm. Google has clearly explained that the customized search result will soon be available just for logged-in users and users can see how folks have collectively edited the search results for specific search keywords by hitting the "See all notes for this SearchWiki" link.Even if Google plans to take personalized results into account on search results, it is a welcome change to improve informational sites with high relevancy to appear in the very best rankings as only users can judge the very best site rather than any professionals. If this becomes reality, in order to gain rankings webmasters is likely to be keen in offering the required information for end users.On one other hand, they can also ask their friends and families as well as hire people to maneuver their site to number one position inside their wiki pages. Some webmasters might even spam with negative comments to get rid of their competitors'site from search result pages. On Wiki Search at the 2009 SMX West conference, Corey Anderson, a Google engineer, stated that they can be reviewing the comments very carefully to prevent any red flag or black hat motives. This activity will ensure that website rankings aren't afflicted with this kind of spam.Currently, Google gathers information from everything you are trying to find, no matter if you are logged in or not, for ranking a site. According to me, using personalized results in the ranking algorithm is recommended provided that spam is avoided. This feature will encourage webmasters to offer only informative content on the site.

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1willard · 7 years ago

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Nutty Guns 4/11/18

Yesterday I worried that with two local gun deaths I’d about used up the topic for a few days. But today the above-the-fold front-page story in the Billings Gazette says “Man Killed by Police in Billings Casino. Apparently this was a replay of most of the gun deaths in America with a minor twist. The guy had a fight with his wife and instead of one killing the other on the spot, he stormed out clutching an air-gun pistol shouting that he intended to commit a robbery.

It is not surprising that the police shot him. The air gun must surely have looked like a the real deal. Even if it didn’t some air guns pack a pretty good punch. The news paper indicates that this was a drawn out affair beginning at the home, moving to the casino where the police were locked out for a time while the man presumably threatened the patrons. In the moment it is very hard to argue that the police had a choice.

From a bit longer view this was an unnecessary death! The wife had a restraining order against him. That indicates there had been domestic abuse. If there were nation wide enforceable laws forbidding abusers owning or possessing guns, as many propose, the guy would likely be alive today. If the Billings police force were fully staffed they might have been able to respond more quickly to the domestic disturbance putting an end to the problem right there. Also, as in he case of the killing of the man with a knife yesterday, drugs & mental health issues may have been involved and perhaps should have been red flags which sparked intervention long ago.

Gun Nutty History:

A companion story in the Gazette tells us that there have been a total of 12 fatal police shootings in our town since May of 2012. While one of the dead was Native and another Hispanic, there is no statistical reason to suspect any racial bias. The police may have made less than the best decisions but probably not because of race.

What this does show is the kind of binds police are in. In every case more than one officer was directly involved. In every case at least some of those officers are put on administrative leave per police policy. The result is that an already small force becomes smaller. In November of last year there were two especially intense killings within days of each other. In one a man took over a local sporting goods store and held it for more than a day - presumably using weapons in stock at the store. Lots of officers were required and lots were put on leave. Given the intensity of both situations I bet the officers needed more than a day or two to wind down.

The Billings Police are understaffed on the best of days. One way they try to cope with that is by recruiting volunteers to take care of the routine stuff. I was briefly one of those volunteers. Among the lessons I learned were that potentially big deals are often pushed to the back burner by bigger deals and that many of the low priority complaints often have a very dark side to them which could lead to yet another front page story.

Last Word

I don’t think most police think like this. But they should so I’ll do it for them.

Shipton’s Big R Store has three big stores in Billings. At least once a week they run a big ad hyping the guns they have on sale. Today was a relatively light day with only 4 semi automatic handguns (one with a 17 round clip) and two semi-automatic rifles. At times they have advertised all kinds of exotic guns - ie. pistol long gun hybrids capable of being easily concealed and shooting 30 or more shots before reloading, assault rifles and strange looking things with aggressive names like “Enforcer”. On the softer side they also have an array of pink-camo weapons. Shipton’s is not the only place to buy guns, amunition and accessories around here, just the one that advertises most. Many of them have been selling guns for as long as anyone can remember.

If you were a policeman going into a tense situation would you imagine for a second that you were the only one with a gun?

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clubofinfo · 7 years ago

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Expert: New huge wave of ‘China bashing’ is once again rolling from Europe and North America. Its water is filthy and murky. It tries to smear everything about the present Chinese system: from its own and unique democratic model, to its leadership, as well as the political, economic and social system. I am periodically reminded that every year, just before China’s annual two sessions, there will be rising voices declaring that the People’s Congress play the role of rubber stamps, and China’s democracy can’t truly represent the people. Criticism of the Chinese system sometimes comes from within the country, but more often it arrives from abroad. Even local critics are usually deeply influenced by the foreign perceptions. China is often ‘analyzed’ and judged strictly by the Western norms and rules, and that is chauvinistic and amazingly patronizing. My friend and colleague Jeff J. Brown, a leading expect on China, author of a book China Is Communist Damn It! wrote indignantly in his recent essay “Western Racism and Hypocrisy Foaming at The Mouth Over China’s Constitutional Changes”: So-called “China experts” are piling on with all kinds of doomsday the-sky-is-falling scenarios… President Xi Jinping is being portrayed as megalomaniac, power hungry tyrant. His 1.4 billion citizens respectfully disagree. This whole Western charade exudes the worst hypocrisy and at its core, racism. When was the last time the mainstream media got into a snit because a Western country changed its laws? In 2001, where was Western propaganda when George W. Bush & Co. forever destroyed any semblance of the US Constitution conferring civil and human rights to its citizens, when a false flag 9/11 gun was held to the heads of every congressman and senator, to sign the Orwellian named “Patriot” Act – literally in the middle of the night, never having a chance to read it? America’s corporate whore media was right there, screaming, Sign it! Save us! Protect us! This is how corrupt, Western “democracy” “works” …” A distinct Turkish professor Tugrul Keskin, from Shanghai University in China, calls recent trends in the West simply and correctly: Chinaphobia. ***** For decades and centuries, in the West, Chinese people suffered from spiteful racism and discrimination. In the United States, Chinese migrants were ridiculed and humiliated at best, and physically liquidated at worst. European powers attacked, occupied, divided and destroyed China, even succeeding in ransacking Beijing. I wrote entire books (including Exposing Lies Of The Empire) and numerous essays, in which I argued that China, with thousands of years of tremendous history and culture, has undeniable right to be defined and judged by its own people and by its own measures. But now let’s talk about democracy. First of all, the expression democracy is derived from Greek language. It loosely means ‘rule of the people’. It doesn’t stipulate that a truly democratic country has to follow a Western multi-party/corporate model, or more concretely, a model in which big corporations and ‘powerful individuals’ are financing political campaigns (while backing the candidates), and de facto selecting the governments. In the West, and in its ‘client states’, most of the ordinary people are destined to serve the corporate interests, and the government is there to make sure that they do not break ‘the rules’. China simply cannot follow such model. Chinese people fought hard for their independence, they struggled during the great revolutionary war, and all this in order to create a system which would be serving the people. After great sacrifices, people of China achieved their goal. The system is theirs, it exists in order to improve their lives. It is not perfect, far from it, but it is rapidly evolving into perhaps the most humane system on our Planet. Chinese corporations are there to serve the people, to serve the nation, and they are told what to do and how to behave by the government and by the Communist Party, not the other way around. Again, it is not as simple as that, and there are problems and setbacks and corruption, but the country is marching forward, irreversibly. Anyone who knows China, knows that the country is improving dramatically, and not only economically but also ecologically, socially and culturally. There is no other country on Earth, which is changing lives of its ordinary people for better, so rapidly and with such determination. And it is happening because of the system, because of the Communist Party’s leadership, and because of the NPC. Some people ask me: “Do you think China’s democracy, or the political system of Party’s leadership, and NPC can improve people’s livelihood?” I always answer: “Not only they can, but they do; day by day, year by year!” Those who deny it either don’t know China, or are simply sore losers. ***** Unlike in the West, Chinese leaders are listening attentively to their people. China is ‘direct democracy’, and it functions without huge army of political parties. I don’t want to exaggerate and say that the ‘leadership in China is afraid of the people’, but is definitely respecting and listening to them. It is nothing new: it has been this way for centuries and millennia, since the “Heavenly Mandate” was born. To rule, to be ‘at the top’, could never be taken for granted. To rule, in China, also means ‘to serve’. Arrogance and self-indulgence was rarely accepted, and when it was, it was a warning signal that the country was in decline. Recently, in Claremont, Ca., I discussed China with a great U.S. Whiteheadean philosopher, John Cobb Jr., who has been, for years and decades deeply involved in China, particularly in the “Ecological civilization” project. He replied: I think that in China, many leaders actually do genuinely care about the well-being of their nation. Something that could be hardly said about the leadership in the West. ***** When Chinese people sent clear signals to the top that they want more economic freedoms, more consumer goods, and that they want to be able to freely travel abroad, Deng Xiaoping launched sweeping reforms. Some people agreed with those reforms; some didn’t. But that is what the majority at that time, truly wanted. Party and the government were only responding to people’s demands. Decades later, people got tired of so many elements of the market system; of growing inequality, environmental issues and negative by-products of the super-rapid economic growth. And they were listened to again. President Xi Jinping put great emphasis on the environment (“Ecological Civilization”), on the great Chinese culture, and above all on improving lives of all Chinese people no matter where they live. Powerful and progressive model of “Socialism with Chinese Characteristics” was reinvented, improved and put to work with new determination and zeal. Result: soon, perhaps as early as by 2020, there will be no pockets of extreme poverty, anywhere on the territory of the People’s Republic of China. If this is not socialism, that what really is? All this is clearly proof of the Chinese democracy at work. Even when there are protests, when people are demanding changes, look closely what many of them are holding in their hands: they are waving the little red flags of the Communist Party of China; definitely not some symbols of the Western regime. ***** What will be remembered about all this in hundreds of years from now? While it cannot be denied that several Western countries gave at least some freedom and passable standard of living to their citizens, the price has been paid by the plundered continents, squashed under the Western colonialist and neo-colonialist heels. Tens of millions of non-white people died and are still dying, in order to fulfill tremendous greed and gluttony of so-called Western democracies. I saw it, unfortunately too often, with my own eyes. Only lives of the European and North American citizens are respected and protected, not at all the lives of those who are forced to serve them. China showed to the world a totally opposite path. Everything in the PRC is created with hands of the Chinese people; with their brains, their muscles and their sweat. It is ‘clean’ and honest progress, not one that is resting on the corpses and blood of the millions of ‘others’. And that is not all. Brainchild of President Xi, One Belt One Road, is essentially this: “sharing of China’s achievements and success with the rest of the world”, especially with the struggling and unfortunate countries. China does not turn its success into religion. It believes that everything positive should be shared, that there should be progress, social justice and respect for different cultures. The entire would should be benefiting. This is true internationalism, and true human decency, as well as unmistakable sign of ‘democracy’, serving all human beings, on truly global scale! • A shorter version of this essay appeared in Chinese press http://clubof.info/

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