#Edith Storey

[perfettamentechic]

9 ottobre … ricordiamo …

9 ottobre … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2022: Eileen Ryan, Eileen Rose Annucci, attrice statunitense. Nacque in una famiglia cattolica di origini italo-irlandesi, figlia dell’infermiera Rose Isabel Ryan e del dentista Amerigo Giuseppe Annucci. Durante la sua carriera d’attrice recitò principalmente in serie televisive. Dagli anni ottanta apparve frequentemente sugli schermi cinematografici. Eileen fu moglie del regista Leo Penn, e…

[p0orbaby]

Born to Love You Back

summary: a very important question is on the horizon

warnings: none

a/n: some rich!reader for you all

word count: 1.7k

-

The jeweller’s salon is tucked into a narrow street in the 1st arrondissement, down a street so narrow you almost missed it, the kind of place that doesn’t need signage because everyone who matters already knows where it is. The building itself is unassuming but pristine, a five-storey townhouse with cream-coloured stone, wrought-iron balconies, a double door painted a deep charcoal with brass fixtures that gleam in the waning afternoon sun. Outside, a delivery van idles, spilling faint notes of Edith Piaf from its radio as a man unloads crates of flowers: cyclamen, lilies, eucalyptus branches arranged in bursts of green and white. They’ll likely find their way to the salon’s interior within the hour, arranged with almost mathematical precision to evoke a studied nonchalance.

Inside, it’s quiet—museum-like but less sterile, hushed but alive. There’s a balance between the soft hum of conversation from another room and the faint, barely perceptible scent of lilies and leather. The floors are a herringbone parquet, polished to an impossible sheen, and the walls are panelled in dove grey. Everything about the space is designed to whisper money. Even the receptionist, stationed behind a desk lacquered to such a high gloss that it might double as a mirror. She’s mid-twenties, probably just out of university—Sciences Po, perhaps, or one of the Grandes Écoles—wearing a black crepe shift dress that hits just above the knee. Chanel, you’d bet, though it’s hard to tell from here. Her hair is sleek and straight, parted sharply in the middle, her nails painted in Rouge Noir, a colour so iconic it’s practically shorthand for Parisian sophistication. She greets you in French first, then switches to English the moment she hears your accent, though her tone remains precisely the same—warm but not too warm, deferential but not subservient.

Aurélie is waiting for you on the stairs. She’s maybe late thirties, tall, with that certain froideur that women in her line of work cultivate like a second skin. Her blazer is Saint Laurent—black, sharply tailored, peak lapels—and her silk blouse is an ivory so fine it catches the light in a way cotton never could. Her trousers skim the tops of her Louboutin heels—black patent leather, red soles so subtle they barely register. Her jewellery is minimal but deliberate: a single strand of Mikimoto pearls, their lustre so perfect they almost look artificial, and a pair of matching studs. She smiles when she greets you, her lips painted a nude so neutral it could have come from any number of Tom Ford palettes, but you’d guess Casablanca.

“This way, please,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs with a hand that’s manicured in a soft ballet pink, not a chip in sight. You follow her up, noting the faint scent of her perfume—Chanel No. 19, not a popular choice but a discerning one, with its crisp notes of galbanum and iris that feel both professional and unapologetically feminine.

On the landing, there’s a painting—a still life, maybe Cézanne, maybe a very good imitation. You don’t stop to look, but it catches your eye enough to linger in your mind as Aurélie opens a door to the second-floor where Its quieter, darker. The walls are a deep navy—Farrow & Ball, maybe Hague Blue—and the rug beneath the central display case is thick enough to swallow the sound of your footsteps. The case itself is glass-topped and backlit, the kind of lighting that renders diamonds almost supernatural in their brilliance. The rings are arranged by cut and carat, each one nestled in its own velvet slot, the symmetry of the display both calming and slightly overwhelming.

Aurélie steps aside, giving you space but remaining close enough to anticipate your needs. She stands with her hands loosely clasped in front of her, her posture immaculate.

“Take your time,” she says, standing back with the same attentive grace she’s shown since you arrived.

You nod, your gaze already falling to the rings. You’ve thought about this for weeks, maybe months, but standing here, it feels more real, the weight of the decision settling in your chest. Not because you’re uncertain—you’re not—but because this is a moment you’ll remember, whether you want to or not.

The first ring is a cushion-cut diamond, two carats, set in a band of pave diamonds. Platinum, naturally. The proportions are flawless, the craftsmanship impeccable, but as you turn it in the light, you know immediately it’s wrong. Too ornate. Too eager. Alexia would hate it. You imagine her wearing it for a moment, and the thought feels so ridiculous you almost laugh. She doesn’t like excess, at least not in the obvious sense. Her taste is clean, modern, unfussy.

The second ring is pear-shaped, slightly smaller, but with a brilliance that draws your eye. The stone feels alive under the light, its facets catching every subtle movement of your hand. For a moment, you hesitate, thinking about how it would look on her hand, but then you remember something she said once, flipping through a magazine in bed: “Pear cuts are too delicate. They look like they’re trying too hard.”

You sigh, not quite aloud, but enough for Aurélie to notice. She steps closer, just enough to offer a quiet suggestion. “Does she have a preference?” she asks, her tone light, neutral. “For the setting, or the cut?”

“She likes things simple,” you say, the words coming out more clipped than you mean them to. It’s not her fault, this unease you feel. “Classic, but not boring”

Aurélie nods, her expression unchanged, and steps back again. You wonder if she can sense the weight of what you’re doing—if she’s seen enough of this to know the signs. The third ring catches your eye before you reach for it. A round brilliant diamond, 1.8 carats, set in a plain platinum band. No pave, no halo, no embellishments. It’s striking in its simplicity, the kind of ring that doesn’t need to assert itself because it knows what it is. You pick it up, holding it to the light, and as you turn it, something settles in you. This is the one. You don’t need to overthink it.

Aurélie smiles faintly, as though she already knew. “Shall I prepare it for you?” she asks.

You nod, handing it back, and she takes it with both hands, disappearing into a back room.

While she’s gone, you pull out your phone. You shouldn’t call her—she’s probably still at training, her mind on drills and tactics—but you do it anyway. She answers on the third ring, her voice steady but soft, with that familiar cadence you’ve missed more than you’d care to admit.

“Hey,” she says, her voice clear, grounded, with just the faintest lilt of distraction. In the background, there’s a low murmur of voices, the familiar thud of a ball meeting turf, maybe a coach shouting something that’s swallowed up by the wind. You imagine the sun slicing through the Catalan sky, the kind of relentless brightness that makes the whole city shimmer.

“Hey,” you reply, smoothing nonexistent creases from your blazer out of habit, though no one is watching. Your reflection in the polished glass of the display case looks composed, disinterested, but the sound of her voice pulls something taut inside you. “How’s training?”

“Same as always,” she says, and there’s a pause—just long enough for you to hear her exhale softly, almost imperceptibly. You know she’s stepped aside, moved to some quieter corner of the training complex where no one will overhear. She’s careful like that, never careless, always aware of her surroundings.

“Still exhausting?” you ask, and she laughs under her breath—a low, warm sound that lingers longer than it should.

“Mhm,” she hums, the sound of it makes you smile despite yourself. “But it’s a good kind of exhausting. You know how it is”

“Not sure I do,” you tease, leaning against the edge of the display case, its surface cool against your hand. “I can’t say I’ve run laps around a pitch lately. Unless you count running several businesses as exercise”

“Of course,” she says, dry but affectionate, “such an athlete. Truly inspiring”

The corner of your mouth twitches upward. “I aim to impress”

There’s a faint rustle of movement on her end—maybe she’s leaning against a wall, maybe adjusting the strap of her training bib. You picture her in that effortless way she carries herself: shorts sitting just right, socks perfectly rolled down, hair tied back in that half-loose, half-styled way that only someone like her can pull off.

“Where are you?” she asks, not because she doesn’t know, but because it’s the kind of question you ask when you want the conversation to last a little longer.

“Near Rue de la Paix,” you say, keeping it vague. “Finishing up a meeting”

“You’re always finishing up a meeting,” she says, and there’s a lightness to her tone, but it doesn’t quite hide the subtext.

“You’re always training,” you counter, matching her tone, and you hear her chuckle, soft but genuine.

“Buen punto”

There’s a brief pause. In the background, someone calls her name, a voice you don’t recognise, and she responds with a quick, sharp “Un momento.” The way she switches languages so fluidly—it’s seamless—and yet it reminds you, in a small but certain way, that her world is different from yours. Barcelona, with its golden afternoons and relentless sun, its terracotta rooftops and restless streets, feels a thousand miles away from the polished stillness of this Parisian jewellers.

“You should,” you encouraged knowing full well she’ll make no move to end the call herself.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asks, and it’s a question, but not really.

“Of course,” you say, without hesitation this time.

There’s another silence after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence you could live in, one where nothing needs to be said because the words are already understood. Finally, she says, “Te quiero,” and you hear the faint click as she ends the call.

Aurélie returns with the ring, now nestled in a velvet box so pristine it looks almost untouched by human hands. You slip it into your pocket, the weight of it grounding you, and leave the salon with a nod of thanks.

Outside, Paris feels sharper, brighter. The air smells faintly of rain and burnt sugar from a nearby crepe stand, and the light is just beginning to soften as dusk approaches. For the first time all day, you feel steady.

[townsenddecades]

1317 – Day 1 – Witches’ Coven

Edith’s death isn’t the only reduction the household goes through in these three months, although the other parting, while bittersweet, at least isn’t as final. Simon has turned thirteen years old recently, and as foretold by Elea, his magical abilities have started stirring. They have always been there, but while it had been a barely noteworthy hum beneath his skin before, he can now feel it as if it were a stream’s current under his skin. He tries to call upon it and is amazed to see sparks follow the movements of his hands.

Elea has given him instructions where to find her for exactly this case, and Benedict, though reluctant to let his son go after just losing his daughter, agrees that it is likely for the best. Who knows if unrestrained magic won’t burn their house down? A fire is be the last thing they need. So, Simon sets out to go to her, alone.

It is a long, wearying journey. Simon can hardly believe that Anna and Edith once tried to do it on their own.

The thought of his lost sister shoots an arrow into his heart. She had been so interested in what Elea had told them, so happy that she had been right and that there was a witch living in these parts. And now, she won’t even see what Elea had to teach him. It isn’t right. He can only hope that whatever he’ll learn will be able to prevent another tragedy like that.

That is the road his mind travels while he walks through the dark, damp forest beyond the ruined village of Lüghaven, until he finally makes out a tower through the barrier of trees. He blinks at the sudden appearance of the building, so unexpected this far from any other dwellings. He had expected a small hut, not a residence of multiple storeys.

Elea greets him in her small garden, a smile on her face.

“I’ve felt your approach. Your magical aura has grown considerably.”

“That’s why I’m here. I can wield my magic now, but I still can’t control it. I want to learn.”

“And learn you shall. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an apprentice. My own daughter hasn’t been granted the gift of magic, sadly.”

That takes him by surprise. “You have a daughter?”

“Mariora, yes. She lives with me. You will meet her soon. But first, I want you to show me your magic.”

And so he does, until a lovely, dark haired girl around his age walks outside to tell them – her mother, really, as she starts with surprise when she sees him – that dinner is ready. Simon can’t respond at first, too busy staring at her. He doesn’t know what he expected, but a girl this beautiful wasn’t it.

She has the same striking blue eyes as her mother.

Mariora leads them inside. He starts when he sees the ruined interior of the house, even asks if taking the stairs upwards is safe, but the women simply smile. And with good reason: while the stairs look unsafe and the lower story hardly has walls and is full of debris, the upper storeys are comfortable, warm and in perfect repair.

“The damages in the lower storey are real enough”, Elea informs him, “but there is a glamour on the steps to make it seem as if they are about to collapse. Keeps people from being too inclined to stick their noses where they don’t belong.”

That is reasonable enough, he supposes, although he has a lot to learn.

Mariora turns to him while her mother busies herself with putting something away. “So, you’re the apprentice my mother has promised.”

Simon smiles nervously. “I suppose I am. It still feels strange to be a witch’s apprentice.”

“Only if you haven’t grown up around magic. I only hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Simon Townsend.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Mariora, don’t frighten our new guest.” Her mother walks over with their food floating on a tray before her. “Be happy that we have company to offer us some variety.”

“Of course, Mother.”

But her words don’t leave Simon’s mind for a while.

WATCHER’S NEWS:

Lady Gwendolen Dudley has celebrated her thirteenth birthday.

Prev: 1317, Day 1, Part 1/2 <--> Next: 1317, Day 2

[lgbtqsilentfilmproject]

A Florida Enchantment (1914)

Directed by Sidney Drew

Starring: Edith Storey, Sidney Drew.

A Florida Enchantment is about a young woman, Lilian, visiting her aunt with her fiancé. While in Florida she ends up changing her gender identity with a magic seed she gets from a curiosity shop. Angry with her fiancé, she ingests the seeds and turns herself into a man. Over the course of the film, other characters change their gender and comedic hijinks ensue. In a complicated, and often times confusing, plot the story is, if looked at simply, about the world from the perspective of the other sex. In a more dissected look at the film, many LGBTQ+ ideas are presented. Though mainly in a mocking, comedic tone.

Throughout the early 1910s, multiple films were released with gay, lesbian, or bisexual themes attached to their plot, even if it was unintentional or very subversive to contemporary views of sexuality at the time of its release. For the most part, these themes were met with praise for their lampooning of “sissys” and “queers” or with vitriol for promoting filth and immoral ways of life. This film was no exception to the latter.

A Florida Enchantment is a very controversial film both from the time of its release and now in the 21st century. Not only does it depict a woman transforming herself into a man to spite her fiancé, a controversial topic for the time of its release, but it depicts several characters in blackface, a controversial act nowadays. However, despite the storm surrounding this film, the impact it had on LGBTQ+ film in American society is great and cannot go unrecognized. Even if unintended, A Florida Enchantment depicts gender dysphoria or disillusionment nearly a century before films that deal with gender such as Boys Don’t Cry (1999) or Tangerine (2017) were released.

Notes and References:

Capó Jr., Julio, Welcome to Fairyland: Queer Miami before 1940, (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: University of North Carolina Press, 2017), 152–154.

 Hensfield, Maggie. "Queer Laughter in the Archives of Silent Film", The Oxford Handbook of Queer Cinema, (Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 2021), 99–100.

[bokauffmann]

$100 Million Tear-Down, April 5th

Hello…this is Bo Kauffmann of Remax in Winnipeg, with your real estate news for…  Wednesday, April 5th, 2023…

  Today is First day of Passover, Nat. Deep Dish Pizza Day and fittingly, Nat. Walking Day

  The largest oceanfront single-family property in Miami came back to the market on Tuesday. They tried selling this thing last year, and despite the jaw-dropping 100-million price, the 1.5-acre estate is being marketed as a teardown.  BONUS: the new owner will also receive approved plans for a new 10-bedroom, 30,000-square-foot home.  (the contruction of which is NOT included)

  The property is currently owned by Edith Newman and her late husband, Joel Newman, founder of Craig Electronics, since 1995 and has been custom built with nine bedrooms and 12 bathrooms across 25,867 square feet.

  Golden Beach is known as a very upscale community, with a small population of approximately 364 households, and celebrity residents include Bill Gates and Eric Clapton.

  For more info, see the article here  https://boknows.homes/91ea0500

    Meanwhile, back on earth, the largest home on the market in Winnipeg is a 5900 sq ft 2-storey home in E St Paul.  Built in 2002, it is currently asking 2.5 million and has been on the market for 81 days

  The most expensive house in Winnipeg is a newly listed, 4400 sq ft 2 storey home in Tuxedo, built in 2022 and asking 4.2 million

  To see these or any other house or condo on the market, contact me anytime

Bo Kauffmann with REMAX at 204-333-2202

Check out this episode!

[pochaunnuswalker]

Watch "I tried 😭" on YouTube

Bitch I know I'm a dog but you can kill your goddamndelfs cause I won't cover up and I'm finding out what a muthafucka did to me and other muthafucking innocent victims of Atlanta murders and not made victims made victims are kmuthafuckas who get theyself raped on pup r pose cause they like that shit or muthafuckas are jahovess with these and shit fucking dumb assesy bitch try me don't settel for less yaw always somewhere try to Joan tell me I don't know how done resulted to rape think imma settel for less cause I won't cover up a body yaw committed take yaws murder charges wrong I got false informing charges cause I didn't blow your asses up and do did another guy from the neighborhood and went to 2700 meruidianyaw donlt watch the news I tore up Gary in huh dumb ass npere Kruger broke bitch try me that's cabrinee green dumb asses where pd and cee cee used to live bitchp I'm a victim and. I frequent Walmart and they missing and exploited children wall kept getting bigger and bigger mhellnaw Eric cane not oy 2as ex officer parks responsible for. 2002 bitch your ass. Is responsible for 2003 and you Edith so brother niggaedith is able yaw know the cane and able storey fucking dumb asses and he also owns Kay's beauty college dumb asses second need a song dummiesy

[oh-sewing-circle]

"Lesbians in mainstream cinema have been alternately visible and invisible since the 1910s. Yet, even in those instances when lesbian characters or women who exhibit lesbian traits (such as sexually desiring or having an intense emotional bond with another woman) can be discerned, they are often white and middle-class. In fact, the majority of lesbian portrayals have been produced by Western filmmakers who depict white heterosexuality as the norm. Thus, in many films, the characters who seem to be lesbians also express sexual interest in men, or their passion for women are implied but rarely shown directly. In Sidney Drew's 1914 U.S. comedy, A Florida Enchantment, for example, a lesbian attraction is hinted at when Lillian Travers (Edith Storey) swallows magical seeds and becomes a man. Her sex-change leads her to court a number of women. The lesbian implications come less from the story line, though, than from the viewer's knowledge that the hero is played by an actress."

-From the Encyclopedia of Lesbian Histories and Cultures by Bonnie Zimmerman

[asluttybasilofbakerstreet]

What a cutie. Edith Storey in A Florida Enchantment (1914)

[olive-thomas]

Edith Storey, 1919 by Robertson-Cole

[perfettamentechic]

9 ottobre … ricordiamo …

9 ottobre … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic #felicementechic #lynda

2018: Venantino Venantini, all’anagrafe Enrico Venantino Venantini, attore italiano. Padre dell’attore Luca Venantini. (n. 1930) 2017: Jean Rochefort, Jean Raoul Robert Rochefort, attore francese. (n. 1930) 2013: Norma Bengell, all’anagrafe Norma Aparecida Almeida Pinto Guimarães D’Áurea Bengell e conosciuta anche come Norma Benguel, attrice, cantante e regista brasiliana. Dal 1963 al 1967 era…

[fakesurprise]

A First Adorcism

The worst part about no one having seen the ghost was that I had no idea what I was getting into. Marcel had vouched for me to the family as his student - which technically I was, seeing as I’d aided him in helping four ghosts in the past two years. I had no ranking on Hauntr, but Hauntr was mostly Yelp for exorcists and adorcists were the opposite of exorcists. Marcel was on it, but often had to deal with being review-bombed, hateful comments and threats on his life. It would likely be even worse for me, which I wasn’t looking forward to.

Being an exorcist wasn’t the most high-paying job, and some of them could make poltergeists look kind. I touch the phone in my pocket, knowing Marcel is only ten minutes away and let go as I walk toward the house. It’s raining, which feels oddly natural but does mean the fall chill in the air can hide a ghost better than normal. Not that I’m worried, but I’m almost not-not worried.

The ghost had died in his sleep from a heart attack, which didn’t normally make ghosts except that Edith Danby had begun packing up things to move less than a week after the vacation. Her son had offered to let her stay with him for a month or two and she was putting things away beforehand as a way of trying to put the past in order. Which was all fine and good until every moving box and suitcase was destroyed, the destruction harming nothing within the containers.

She’d run into the garage, called her son. He called the local priest who realized a ghost who could do that was more than a simple exorcism could fix and he called someone who called someone and reached Marcel. The Quercus Foundation doesn’t advertise at all save by word of mouth, but most of the time it’s enough for us.

I’d thought ‘for us’ without hesitating. I decide to take that as a good omen as I turn off my Toyota and walk up the driveway. The house is a small two-storey affair. Peeling paint, slightly unkempt lawn: a home that had aged along with the owners, just far enough out of town for no one to comment, not so far that people would worry and check in. No lights are on, the doors closed up tight as I walk up to the front door.

The key that Comor Danby gave me works, the door opening without issue.

As first steps go, this is good. I pocket the key and walk inside, looking about slowly.

The house smells slightly cold and musty but looks fine. Dated furniture and wallpaper, an older-style kitchen kept clean and tidy. No shattered windows, no plates hurling through the air. Nothing dangerous, but there was still the feeling that I wasn’t alone.

“Charles Danby?” I say, keeping my hands visible and loose at my sides.

The ghost walks down the stairs, each foot touching a stair. He is translucent, but not overly so. Slight stubble on his cheeks, wearing the pajamas he had been wearing when he died. He is frowning, and there is a cold glint of anger in his eyes that his family never mentioned.

The dead are never the person they were in life, and the biggest danger for the living is to forget that.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my home?”

The temperature drops about me. Nothing is flung through the air, no force shoves me into me, but his anger twists into the world. Lost. Afraid. Alone.

“My name is Miella Sinclair,” I say quietly, so he has to make the effort to listen in. “I’m here to help you.”

“Help? I’m fine. If this is some attempt by Edith to get me to join that jazzercise class again, I’ll have you know that it’s just people trying to con exercise out of those who don’t need it.”

“No, it’s not. Jazzercise is for the living. You’ve been dead for over two weeks, Mr. Danby.”

He stops. The air doesn’t get colder, which I take as a good sign. “I beg your pardon?” “You died in your sleep. Most people who do that don’t become ghosts, but there are exceptions. It’s common for you to not realize you are a ghost, but I am six feet tall and you are eye level with me.”

He starts, lowering down to the ground. Stares down at his feet, then up at me. “Where is Edith?” “She is going to spend a few days with Comor. She needed space away from memories, but then you destroyed all the moving boxes and that changed things.”

“I didn’t - I thought we’d had a fight. That she found out….” he trails off.

I wait.

“The second of June, 1972. I was at a convention for work. I almost cheated on her. I never told her, I always meant to. It came closer than I would have liked, being talked into a co-workers room and she was my boss so I thought it was work until it wasn’t. I didn’t lose my job, but it was close. Comor was two years old, and I almost threw my life away after three glasses of beer. Edith always said she loved me, but she never knew.”

“You want to tell her?” His eyes flash. A flicker of blue-white energy and the air takes on a discordant hum.

“Mr. Danby. Charles. I said I was here to help you. An exorcist wouldn’t say that.”

The hum dissipates into a buzzing. “Then what are you?” “Exorcists banish. Adorcists like myself help you let go and pass on. No one knows what happens to ghosts. No one knows what happens after we die. But some of us have learned another way to help the living and the dead.” The ghost doesn’t move, the hum of menace fading into a soft whisper. “I can tell your wife and son what you told me. But you have to understand that Edith isn’t going to come back while you are here. She might not see you, but she’ll sense you and feel like a stranger in her own home.”

“I’d never want that. She meant the world to me.” “She did, yes. And your family loved you enough to contact someone like me to help you.”

“How?” the ghost asks.

“You spoke in the past tense. That is part of it. You won’t stop caring for her. But you are an echo of Charles Danby, a reflection of who you were. You can do things you never could in life, and you could hurt those you care for when trying to help them.”

“I’d never hurt Edith like that!”

“You ruined over two suitcases. What if she packed more? What if you’d thought she was leaving you?”

He stops moving. The air ceases to be quiet so cool about me.

“I don’t want to hurt my family.”

“They know that. I know that.” I held out my right hand. “You just need to relax and take my hand. Meditate. Jazzercise, in its own way?”

That wins a startled laugh from the ghost. “No dancing. I was never a good dancer.” “No dancing, unless you want to.”

The ghost floats over, more translucent than before.

I reach out, trying to visualize the part where the ghost has touched a psychic scar in the world, as if my words can gently relax the wound.

“Relax and let go. Relax with the knowledge that you are loved. You slept then, so you can sleep now. Breathe in the world, breathe out with it. The moment is everything. The moment is nothing. Relax and be at peace.”

The ghost fades from my sight, and I feel the moment Charles Danby departs entirely, the sensation of a soap bubble popping against my skin.

I wait a minute. I text Marcel that I’m at 85% surety. Put my phone away.

“I’m not going to tell Edith Danby. She doesn’t deserve that pain.”

I wait another minute. Nothing happens, and nothing continues to happen.

“Okay. Good. Be at peace, Charles Danby.”

I relax my senses and walk through the house from top to bottom, but no trace of the ghost remains. I let out a breath, and another one, and head back to the front door. The door opens. I close it behind me. Wait ten minute. Enter and leave again.

Then call Marcel as I walk back to my car, dropping the house keys near the front door . “I think it’s good. I’d like you to check it out to be certain?” He chuckles softly. “I’ll be there in five.”

Marcel drives a range rover, which he parks further down the road. He walks past me without a glance, snags the keys and goes inside. I wait a minute. Two. Five. He comes out at just after the eight minute mark, locking the door and walks over to my car.

I accept the keys.

“Drink?” he offers.

“At least two. You know a place?”

He nods and I follow his vehicle to a slightly upscale bar. It still has pool tables but at least no televisions. We order high balls and sit in a booth with a good view of the front door out of habit.

Marcel is easily old enough to be my father, his face lined with age though his white beard hides most of it. He has a sip of his drink. "How was it?” “Good. He got angry once thinking I was an exorcist, but I talked him down, learned his secret.”

“Took longer than I’d thought you would.”

“After he was gone, I waited and then said I wasn’t going to tell his secret. He didn’t manifest.”

Marcel frowns slightly. “That was very risky, Miella.”

“I know. But I wanted to be sure I’d helped him be at peace.”

He lets out a sigh. “This will go on the official report, but in all honesty I did the same. Don’t know of an adorcist who doesn’t do that their first time out. That will be on the report too. Do you plan to tell the family the secret?” I nod. We don’t have to, but it’s generally considered good form to do so. “I’ll return the keys and meet you back at the office?”

He nods, and we clink glasses before finishing the drinks and ordering a light supper and water.

I had expected to feel tense or relieved, but all I feel is eager. “What next?”

` “You’ll go over what you did and could have done better a few times, and we’ll do another assignment together. Two more on your own with my near, another on your own with me a city away. And if all goes well, you’ll be able to do some assignments on your own just fine after that.”

We clink glasses and the world seems almost normal.

[marrowsilk]

WIP First Lines Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @radiomacbeth :)

Rules: Share the first line (or first few lines) of each chapter of your current manuscript! Feel free to skip chapters to avoid spoilers, and you can do as many chapters as you want!

Here I go, Then Came a Whisper in all its three-chaptered glory:

1. Like before, and after, and at the end of it all, it begins with music.

2. Jann Romakin is the first to see the new sign in the window.

3. Standing with his bicycle at the start of the freshly shovelled path, Pietka stares up at the two-storey home of Edith Laikin, for whom he has a delivery of a dozen happy buns.

Tagging (with no pressure!): @charles-joseph-writes , @silverstqrs , @sprigofbasil , @wordsbynathan , and @writerlywonders ! Sending love to each and every one of you 💛

[presidentrhodes]

Watched Far From Home again.

A couple of thoughts.

~~SPOILERS BELOW~~

1. the movie takes place eight months after endgame

2. tony really built a whole planetary defense system to protect earth in the event of his death

3. talos slipped during peter's first meeting with beck. He said, "beck's from earth, just not yours" or something along that line. basically, he said yours and not ours as we thought in the trailers

4. when peter starts building his suit, the avengers theme plays briefly before acdc

5. mysterio dropped peter from the top of an 8 storey building, threw him in front of an oncoming train (that would've killed everyone else), taunted him about tony's death, launched a full drone strike on him, tried to kill his friends, framed him for the attack on london and, as a parting gift, revealed his identity. if you still think mysterio is a poor misunderstood guy because Tony was once mean, seek help pls

6. peter having a mishap with EDITH on the bus didn't mean he wasn't deserving. if anyone deserves to be entrusted with great power — like that of saving the world — it's peter parker. because the rest of the avengers or the wizards couldn't bother to show up in london despite likely having seen the previous elemental attacks

7. in HoCo, peter said he wanted to be like tony, and tony told him to be better. FFH showed why peter is better than tony — he is guided by strong moral principles that tony sometimes lacked. peter is extremely risk averse and would plan for everything in advance to keep his friends out of harm's way. this isn't a criticism of tony. It's an observation that tony's surrogate son is, in fact, better than him, just like he wanted. that's why peter was chosen

8. nick is definitely up there running SWORD. has to be. the world governments allowing stark defense satellites to stay in orbit without any protests — it's almost like the mcu world now understands why ultron 2.0, known as EDITH, was needed, just in case aliens invade and half the population vanishes instantly

9. the tony murals and paintings ❤️❤️❤️

10. watching peter's spider sense in action is really cool. im thinking they'll announce they have extended the deal with sony at comiccon. from what they've shown us in ffh, it's obvious they're grooming peter to be one of the leading characters in phases 4&5 while the FF slowly settle in. the big shots for phase 4 are t'challa, carol, peter and strange. plus whoever is new. plz be namor plz be namor plz be namor

[jhonfalco]

Client: Nike Agency: Wieden + Kennedy Executive Creative Directors: Jason Bagley, Eric Baldwin Creative Directors: Alberto Ponte, Ryan O’Rourke Copywriter: Dylan Lee Art Director: Naoki Ga Director of Production: Matt Hunnicutt Executive Producers: Jake Grand, Krystle Mortimore Senior Producers: Katie McCain, Byron T. Oshiro Associate Producers: Samson Selam, Shani Storey Global Brand Director: André Gustavo Brand Director: Kate Rutkowski Brand Manager: Paanii Annan Creative Operations Managers: Saba Spencer, David Ramirez Global Group Strategy Director: Andy Lindblade, Paula Bloodworth Media Team: Danny Sheniak, Reme Debisschop, Emily Dalton, Vivian Zhang, Graham Wallace, Claudia Iraheta Brand Strategy Directors: Nathan Goldberg, AJ Blumenthal Business Affairs: Karen Crossley, Edith Ortiz, Emily Kahn Broadcast Traffic: Sabrina Reddy, Billy Mucha Design Ops Manager/Design Producer: Alicia Kuna, Michael Rosenau, Michael Frediani Studio Designers: Joan Comellas, Jamon Sin, Mitch Wilson ____________________________________________________________________________ LIVE ACTION Production Company: Pulse Films Director: Oscar Hudson Director of Photography: Logan Triplett Live Action Producer: Dennis Beier Executive Producers: Darren Foldes Key Costumer: Chris Araujo Production Designer: Adam Wilson Managing Director: Hillary Rogers President - Commercial & Branded: Davud Karbassioun ____________________________________________________________________________ Post Production Design Design Studio: Elastic Art Director: Jeff Han Producers: Paul Makowski, Adam Goins Animators: Nader Husseini, Julia Wright, Chad Danieley, Aziz Dosmetov, Trix Taylor, Lucy Kim, Alex Silver Deputy Head of Production: Zach Wakefield Executive Producer: Luke Colson Head of Production: Kate Berry Managing Director: Jennifer Sofio Hall ------- VFX VFX Studio: a52 VFX Supervisor: Patrick Murphy CG Supervisor: Andy Wilkoff Lead Flame Artist: Patrick Murphy Flame Artists: Steve Wolff, Urs Furrer, Matt Sousa, Stefan Gaillot, Andy Rafael Barrios, Hugh Seville, Richard Hirst, Adam Flynn, Dan Ellis, Kevin Stokes, Chris Riley, Rod Basham, Michael Vaglienty, Enid Dalkoff, Susanne Scharping 3D Artists: Dustin Mellum Tracking: Joe Chiechi, Mike Bettinardi, Michael Cardenas Online Editors: Kevin Stokes, Chris Riley, Sam Kolber Producers: Andrew Rosenberger, Everett Cross, Jillian Lynes Executive Producers: Patrick Nugent & Kim Christensen Managing Director: Jennifer Sofio Hall ____________________________________________________________________________ COLOR Color Studio: a52 Color Colorist: Daniel De Vue Color Producer: Jenny Bright Executive Producer: Thatcher Peterson _________________________________________________________________________ EDITORIAL Editorial Company: JOINT Editor: Peter Wiedensmith, Jessica Baclesse Assistant Editor: Jasmine McCullough, JC Nuñez Footage Researcher: Izzie Raitt Producer: Kathleen Russell Production Coordinator: Aubree VanDercar Executive Producer: Leslie Carthy ____________________________________________________________________________ SOUND DESIGN Sound Design Company: JOINT Sound Designer: Noah Woodburn Audio Assistant: Natalie Huizenga Executive Producer: Leslie Carthy MIX Mix Compay: JOINT Audio Mixer: Noah Woodburn Audio Assistant: Natalie Huizenga Executive Producer: Leslie Carthy

[shslargue]

Thirteen Storeys: Chapter Eight

I liked this chapter much more than I thought I would! I think having a story focus on a real estate agent that rents rooms for Banyan Court is a really good idea.

Eight: Viewing Essential - Laura Lockwood, Formerly of 52 Henley Street

-Laura isn’t the most interesting protagonist, but I think there’s something to be said about the attitude she represents. People often perpetuate oppressive systems under the excuse of “just doing their job.”

-I think that out of all the stories so far, this one is the most ‘typical’ ghost story. That isn’t a bad thing, I immensely enjoyed it, but this is one of the more straightforward hauntings.

-The atmosphere is very strong here! Especially during the final scene. I could picture it being a movie.

-Between Robert here and Edith in Sleepless, the residents who die in Banyan Court seem tethered to the building. Is it only the ones who have some kind of connection to Tobias/die angry at him?

-Was the mysterious phone call, the one that just made the ‘hsssk’ noise, the sound of Robert’s life support? …Okay, I went back and checked, and it is! The sound is described the same way. That’s really neat, I don’t know how I missed that—

-“I’m sorry it’s not my job to care” is such a good line that really encapsulates so much of Laura’s character and the themes of this chapter. The way it’s said sincerely, but it’s also a statement that’s inherently cruel…

-Laura’s conversation with Robert’s ghost was fantastic! Throughout the story, she’s kind of been wrestling with the idea that her job is connected to others’ suffering, so seeing her accept that and confront it head-on was cathartic to read.

Final Rating: 9/10

[anibal11]

Nike “You Can’t Stop Us” from a52 on Vimeo.

Client: Nike Agency: Wieden + Kennedy

Executive Creative Directors: Jason Bagley, Eric Baldwin Creative Directors: Alberto Ponte, Ryan O’Rourke Copywriter: Dylan Lee Art Director: Naoki Ga Director of Production: Matt Hunnicutt Executive Producers: Jake Grand, Krystle Mortimore Senior Producers: Katie McCain, Byron T. Oshiro Associate Producers: Samson Selam, Shani Storey Global Brand Director: André Gustavo Brand Director: Kate Rutkowski Brand Manager: Paanii Annan Creative Operations Managers: Saba Spencer, David Ramirez Global Group Strategy Director: Andy Lindblade, Paula Bloodworth Media Team: Danny Sheniak, Reme Debisschop, Emily Dalton, Vivian Zhang, Graham Wallace, Claudia Iraheta Brand Strategy Directors: Nathan Goldberg, AJ Blumenthal Business Affairs: Karen Crossley, Edith Ortiz, Emily Kahn Broadcast Traffic: Sabrina Reddy, Billy Mucha Design Ops Manager/Design Producer: Alicia Kuna, Michael Rosenau, Michael Frediani Studio Designers: Joan Comellas, Jamon Sin, Mitch Wilson ____________________________________________________________________________

LIVE ACTION Production Company: Pulse Films Director: Oscar Hudson Director of Photography: Logan Triplett Live Action Producer: Dennis Beier Executive Producers: Darren Foldes Key Costumer: Chris Araujo Production Designer: Adam Wilson Managing Director: Hillary Rogers President - Commercial & Branded: Davud Karbassioun ____________________________________________________________________________ Post Production

Design Design Studio: Elastic Art Director: Jeff Han Producers: Paul Makowski, Adam Goins Animators: Nader Husseini, Julia Wright, Chad Danieley, Aziz Dosmetov, Trix Taylor, Lucy Kim, Alex Silver Deputy Head of Production: Zach Wakefield Executive Producer: Luke Colson Head of Production: Kate Berry Managing Director: Jennifer Sofio Hall ------- VFX VFX Studio: a52 VFX Supervisor: Patrick Murphy CG Supervisor: Andy Wilkoff Lead Flame Artist: Patrick Murphy Flame Artists: Steve Wolff, Urs Furrer, Matt Sousa, Stefan Gaillot, Andy Rafael Barrios, Hugh Seville, Richard Hirst, Adam Flynn, Dan Ellis, Kevin Stokes, Chris Riley, Rod Basham, Michael Vaglienty, Enid Dalkoff, Susanne Scharping 3D Artists: Dustin Mellum Tracking: Joe Chiechi, Mike Bettinardi, Michael Cardenas Online Editors: Kevin Stokes, Chris Riley, Sam Kolber Producers: Andrew Rosenberger, Everett Cross, Jillian Lynes Executive Producers: Patrick Nugent & Kim Christensen Managing Director: Jennifer Sofio Hall ____________________________________________________________________________ COLOR Color Studio: a52 Color Colorist: Daniel De Vue Color Producer: Jenny Bright Executive Producer: Thatcher Peterson _________________________________________________________________________ EDITORIAL Editorial Company: JOINT Editor: Peter Wiedensmith, Jessica Baclesse Assistant Editor: Jasmine McCullough, JC Nuñez Footage Researcher: Izzie Raitt Producer: Kathleen Russell Production Coordinator: Aubree VanDercar Executive Producer: Leslie Carthy ____________________________________________________________________________ SOUND DESIGN Sound Design Company: JOINT Sound Designer: Noah Woodburn Audio Assistant: Natalie Huizenga Executive Producer: Leslie Carthy

MIX Mix Compay: JOINT Audio Mixer: Noah Woodburn Audio Assistant: Natalie Huizenga Executive Producer: Leslie Carthy