#Hall of John the Baptist

[theodoreangelos]

Detail of the ceiling fresco in the Hall of John the Baptist at the main building of the Austrian Academy of Sciences The Hall of John the Baptist was decorated around 1766/1767 with a ceiling fresco by Franz Anton Maulbertsch showing the baptism of Christ. Detail des Deckenfreskos im Johannessaal des Hauptgebäudes der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften Der Johannessaal wurde um 1766/1767 mit einem Deckenfresko von Franz Anton Maulbertsch ausgestattet, das die Taufe Christi zeigt. Деталь потолочной фрески в зале Иоанна Крестителя (Йоханнес-зал) в главном здании Австрийской академии наук. Зал Иоанна Крестителя был украшен около 1766/1767 года потолочной фреской работы Франца Антона Маульберча, изображающей крещение Христа. Détail de la fresque du plafond de la salle Jean-Baptiste dans le bâtiment principal de l'Académie autrichienne des sciences La salle de Jean-Baptiste a été décorée vers 1766/1767 avec une fresque de plafond de Franz Anton Maulbertsch représentant le baptême du Christ. Austrian Academy of Sciences, Dr. Ignaz Seipel-Platz 2, 1010 Vienna, Austria

[kichisaburo3]

BEATLES With Girls in 1961 at the Brockman Hall Tuebrook Liverpool Twitter Reblogged

The Beatles in 1961 at the Brockman Hall, St John the Baptist, Tuebrook, Liverpool UK

from Left to Right Pete Best George Harrison John Lennon Paul McCartney

Wikipedia Pete Best ( Drammer Before Ringo Starr Joined ) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pete_Best

TAG of BEATLES in my Tumblr https://kichisaburo3.tumblr.com/tagged/BEATLES

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Omg low quality teddy boy Beatles!!! pic.twitter.com/J4UYkjnjRa

— Paris 🌈⃤ || is On The Edge (@cillbreech) June 13, 2020

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Mono Photo Reblogged :

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22 NOV 2024 Friday

[rabbitcruiser]

Charleston surrendered on February 18, 1865.

[wutbju]

I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love His appearing. (2 Timothy 4:7–8)

John Lee Tipton of Greenville, SC, met his Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, on March 18, 2022. He was born in Coatesville, PA, on June 10, 1944, to Isaac Walter Tipton and Betty Hadfield Tipton. He leaves two brothers, Ronald Walter Tipton of Milton, DE, and Isaac Walter Tipton, Jr. of Downingtown, PA. He was married for 58 years to Barbara Princo Tipton, and they had three children, Nancy Lee Tipton of the home, Victoria Lynn (Mark) Payne of Gillette, WY, and John Lee Tipton, Jr. (deceased). John also had two foster daughters whom he loved dearly, Jan Loftis Sinde of Greenville, SC, and Cathy Bridges Powell of San Antonio, TX. He is survived by seven grandchildren and three foster grandchildren.

He served his country in the US Army 529th Military Police in Heidelberg, Germany, and Washington, DC.

He earned a master of arts degree in Bible in 1982 from Bob Jones University and joyfully served the Lord as an assistant pastor at Mount Calvary Baptist Church, Cedar Lane Road, Greenville, SC, since 1983.

Visitation and viewing are at Mount Calvary Baptist Church (115 Cedar Lane Road) on Monday, March 21, 4:45–6:45 p.m.; with the funeral service to follow at 7 p.m. Private interment at Coleman Cemetery in Travelers Rest, SC, will be held Tuesday, March 22. In lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to the Men's Ministries at Mount Calvary Baptist Church, 1430 Hampton Ave. Ext., Greenville, SC 29601.

Published by Cremation Society of South Carolina - Westville Funerals - Greenville on Mar. 18, 2022.

[obsidianpen]

While you were writing NG, have you ever added, sort of, connoted any religious references into it?

Because V's behaviour towards Harry in it is not only so highly canonical to his character, but also so reminiscent of this one story. In the New Testament, Matthew 14:6-12, if I remember right, there was this story about how King Herod hosted a feast on his birthday for his nobles, etc. and the daughter of Herodias came in and danced, pleasing Herod and those who sat with him after which he said to her:

"Ask me for half of my empire, and I will give it to you." So she went out and said to her mother: "What shall I ask?" She said: "The head of John the Baptist!" Immediately she came in with haste to the king and asked: "I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter."

The thing is, also as a religious allusion, that "for what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?" which basically translates to human life equals a whole empire. V's never really cared about taking any life. In the Deathly Hallows, the Second Wizarding War overall, the only thing he truly cares about is killing Harry, because Harry's his only mistake, only failure, that he's ever made in his whole life (account hollowed-theory-hall explains it impeccably in one of their posts), and he proves that point. He practically stops caring about everything else, including winning the war and including his supposed empire, but is entirely obsessed with, well, Harry's head — even long before he, in NG, becomes... Infatuated?

And just like Herod, he's so down (for Harry's soul's purity and Harry's own beauty he keeps pointing out and simping over cough cough) that he does things he never thought he'd do and truly considers Harry's head his new empire (sort of like when he goes so far as to haunt down Nicolas Flamel for the elixir of life and all to make Harry immortal, even though... Yeah, it's bc of his OWN immortality's sake but still </3).

Either way, he's beyond repair in terms of head-over-heels IMO and I'm all here for it <33

purposely, no, I haven’t been making any biblical references like that in NG. But the Bible is quite the big book with many stories, and I was raised Catholic, so it’s not surprising to me that there may be a plethora of religious themes there… but none of them are conscience. Hauntingly is an entirely different story and situation of course - very purposeful there.

(and yes you’re right, he’s down bad bad and what’s worse is he’s starting to realize it)

[whatevergreen]

The "other" Hampton: Carl Hampton of Houston, Texas, 1948-1970

Co-founder and chairman of the People's Party II, an offshoot of the Black Panther Party.

Carl Hampton was active with the Black Panthers in Oakland. In Houston, he and others set up the People's Party II. Hampton and the Party regularly distributed food and clothes as well as published and distributed their own newspaper. They were passionate anti-racists and Communists who spoke out against the racial profiling and lynchings carried out by the Houston Police

Hampton was assassinated by HPD CID snipers from the roof of a church, using illegal dum-dum (expanding) bullets.

"Hall of Fame broadcaster and former Forward Times reporter Ralph Cooper remembers the strength and impact that Carl Hampton had, as well as how things went down on then-Dowling Street that fateful night. “It was no surprise Carl was killed,” said Cooper. “He stood up and voiced his opinion about HPD in the 1970s, especially about their history of brutalizing Black men. The Peoples Party II had the support of several other groups at the time, who were armed also. A White man by the name of Barter Haile, of the John Brown Revolutionary Party, was also wounded, but survived. Many people in the area were arrested that night. Not only was HPD involved, but many other area law officials were on standby in Houston. This was the first time that many of us had seen the white HPD Tank. It was something to behold.” Cooper states that the details surrounding Hampton’s assassination became even more crystal clear to him, when he went to St. John Missionary Baptist Church on assignment for the Forward Times that next morning. “The next morning, several Black leaders met at St. John Church, because they had heard HPD snipers shot from the roof of the church,” said Cooper. “It was verified when empty shells and unused shells – the military type – were found on the roof of the church. I know, because I went on the roof where I discovered the used and unspent shells, and put them in a bag and gave them to the Black men who were at the church that day"

https://www.forwardtimes.com/archives/featured/the-assassination-of-carl-hampton-remembering-another-victim-of-police-brutality-50-years-later/article_41f35d07-3a82-5901-94d0-0e96531f1447.html

https://www.workers.org/2008/us/hampton_0807/

[aquarianshift]

my personal opinion. me PERSONALLY. i agree with peter as jesus (peace, david, i know. stephen stills is john the baptist. the one who is more powerful than i is coming after me...) but i think the other three are better suited to other roles.

davy for example. king herod's song is a jangly vaudeville dance hall number (with a sinister undertone) and it's the only one like that in a show full of soft contemplative tunes and 60s rock and roll songs. you know, like daddy's song. i feel it's almost uniquely made for him and he for it. a cane and beautiful backup dancers and he's ready to go. he could bring a fresh "despotic boy-king" take to josh mostel's excellent disco nero.

micky. he has the range to do king herod but the role of judas was just written for him. he's manic. when we meet him he's delivering one of the show's most shattering vocal performances while going mad in the desert. he's a rock and roll vocalist, with runs and screeches and scatting. he's wild and heavy hitting, and when he finally succumbs to the horror of what he's done, you can hear every thread snap one by one. that matches micky's expressive, explosive style to me. he's the voice of the musical, the one we find ourselves rooting for despite knowing how it ends.

that leaves mike. for all the reasons micky would make an award-winning judas, i think mike wouldn't. as much as the next person, i love to see him as the brooding serpent whose impossible love for peterjesus spells his downfall, but maybe not here. maybe he lines up better with the closely guarded biblical judas, who moves in relative quiet and obscurity, but JCS judas is a loud, bombastic frontman. mary magdalene, on the other hand, is soft, she's water, with a clear mellifluous folk voice. she doesn't know how to love him. were you ever a strong and silent girl before? magdalene was. and she wept for jesus in front of everybody.

rafelson is pontius pilate.

[myosotisa]

Old Heart - Part 2 - Been

‖ chapter summary: Welcome to Memphis, Tennessee. Home of the only Quarantine Zone directly placed on the Mississippi River. It's home to a full cast of characters and you get a brief introduction to the settlement and other people's lives within. Including Eddie's.

‖ tags: enemies to lovers, age gap (41 and 25), forced proximity, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, HEA, "zombie" apocalypse, reader uses she/her pronouns, no y/n, no physical description given, minors dni

‖ chapter warnings: consumption of alcohol (yes that's it, count your blessings)

‖ songs referenced: And Dream of Sheep by Kate Bush, I Wanna Learn a Love Song (Live 1975) by Harry Chapin

‖ word count: 11.2k

‖ prev ‖ ao3 ‖ masterlist ‖ tag list request ‖ next ‖

Tuesday, August 16th, 2016 – Memphis, Tennessee

After 10 minutes of walking through damp and musky tunnels, Eddie asks you to hold his flashlight for a moment as he slides something heavy out of your path. One flashlight in each hand, wondering if maybe you should try to help, all you see is the flex of his shoulders beneath leather as he shifts the object – far enough for a sliver of light to come through and continuing until there's enough room for a single person to squeeze in.

“Okay,” he says in an exhale, both hands shifting to his hips as he dips his head. “You first.” Clicking both flashlights off, you walk up to the opening and peek through, seeing a stone wall opposite, before hesitantly pushing into the new area.

Two steps in and you hear the sound echo for what feels like a full minute too long. Gray light filters in through stained glass and frosted windows across tall, stone walls with impossibly high ceilings. White dust dances, lifts, falls in the stale air around you as you take a few more steps toward the empty hall. Unlit crystal chandeliers hang in an even pattern across the vaulted ceilings, some whole and intricate, some with broken glass and half their shape, others that are just a chain left to shift whenever a breeze passes through one of the shattered windows. Lines of pillars, studiously carved into subtle curves, reach up toward brushed metal decor before melting into the ceiling above. The soles of your boots click across tiled floors as you approach the main structure in the hall.

A statue of what used to be Jesus Christ on the cross sits high above you, a backdrop of beautiful stained glass painted behind. The entirety of the piece is more than 10 feet tall and 20 feet wide – the remains of Jesus hung above an extensive carving of various figures from Christian theology. John the Baptist, Mary Magdalene, the four apostles, the three kings. They all are looking up at him in awe and devotion as they sit easily beneath his crossed and nailed feet.

The head of the statue is missing. There’s jagged stone just above his collarbone where it looks as though it was broken off. Smashed. Desecrated. Cracks descend from the opening and down, weaving their way into the other figures. A split across a king’s forehead into his eye, an diagonal break on the throat of an apostle, a cleave straight through John the Baptist’s torso. With your first glance, it seems the only figure left untouched by the branching tear is Mary herself, kneeling with her head in a bow beneath Jesus’ feet.

A cacophony of scraping and dragging hits you from all sides as the heavy frame Eddie moved is slid back into place, the sound echoing harshly through the empty cathedral and back into your ears so painfully you nearly move to cover them. When you look over to the source, he has just pushed it the final few inches before falling back a few steps. His shoulders rise and fall with a heaving breath and then he turns to you, hands back in his pockets, looking like he wasn’t affected at all.

“Another church,” the repetition of your voice bouncing back to you moments after it leaves your throat is enough to wince.

He lets out a snort of derision on his approach, settling a few feet away from you to also look over the carvings above. “Very astute observation.”

You barrel through his mocking, allowing it to fuel you but not give it your attention. “Dustin said you always want to meet at churches. Louisville, now this. Why?”

Despite that softness of your final question, it still rings out uncomfortably in the silence. You look over at Eddie as he continues to stare up into the space where the head of Jesus used to sit. There’s a reverence to his gaze, a vulnerability to the way his wide eyes flick across it, as if searching for something.

Searching for what?

The moment is gone as quick as it occurred. His head tilts toward you, his expression once again bored, eyebrows set low. “Trick of the trade. Not a lot of people are gonna question a man walking out of a church.” The thought almost seems to make him smile, a bit of mischief in the way he explains it. He spares one last glance up, in a way that’s almost longing, before he’s turning away from the feature and towards the door. “Come on, I’m hungry and ready for a shower.”

You trail Eddie down the shredded rug of the aisle, past what remains of the broken pews and tattered fabrics, and out the heavy twin doors into the afternoon sun.

You’re welcomed into Memphis by the park across the street. It’s dry and dying, a stark contrast to the rest of the greenery you’ve seen since the day began. Like the rain or the ground water from the Mississippi reaches everywhere but this single block of park in the middle of the QZ. It makes you a bit sad to see it withering, but there’s barely anyone around that seems to pay attention to it.

There are people nearby, the first you’ve seen in ages. None of them pay you or Eddie any mind as they go on their way. He veers off to the right, toward what seems to be a much more populated area, looking over his shoulder only once to make sure you’re still behind him. However, as you get closer and closer to where throngs of people come and go, he walks slower, waiting for you to catch up.

“Stay close to me,” it comes out as something close to an order, “things move pretty fast around the market and I don’t want you to get lost in the crowd.”

A completely reasonable request for a good reason. This you can accept. “Okay, can do.”

What shocks you the most is when a hand touches your back for just a moment, though you can feel it continue to hover there as Eddie pushes forward. It’s a good thing too, because you have never been around this many people in your entire life. The amount of people in this square alone could rival the numbers of the entire base at Quantico – and the crowd here is 50 times more diverse. There are children, something you haven’t seen in years, playing together in the streets, kicking a ball through the legs of the adults that continue on their way as if it’s a common occurrence. Probably because it is for them. You’re the only one around who seems to be overwhelmed with the bustle of the Memphis QZ.

The crowd feels as though it parts as you and Eddie walk through, or maybe he’s just leading you along the current as easily as everyone else follows it. It really does behave like a current as faces and bodies pass by on either side, some talking to the people they walk with, others keeping their head down as they move. It all starts to blur together while you let the arm behind lead you deeper into the fold. Part of your brain tells you to start asking questions about where you’re going or what the plan is but you’re struggling to process anything. The sounds, the smells, the sights – it all muddles together in your head and you can’t find something to ground you in the swarm.

“Eddie!”

A high pitched cry has both you and him turning, just in time for the source to barrel into Eddie’s legs.

“Woah,” he laughs as he rocks back to standing straight, a hand landing on the coils on top of the girl’s head as her arms lock solidly around his hips. “Heya squirt, almost bowled me over.”

Her arms release so she can jump up and down a few times in place, her excitement evident. “I missed you!”

You look on as Eddie drops to a knee in front of her, making them the same height. “Missed you too, Libby.” The smile that tilts his lips is stuffed to the brim with fondness and only seems to grow as her delighted giggle gets muffled by the crowd. It’s obvious the girl, Libby, looks up to Eddie and enjoys his company, and Eddie cares for her. It reminds you a bit of his relationship with Dustin: unrestricted affection given and taken in equal measure. “I gotcha something while I was out.”

Her eyes almost triple in size, wet and pleading as she squeals. “Really? You really did?”

He laughs, really laughs, his head hanging down as his shoulders shake. “Yeah, squirt. Picked it out just for you.” The backpack slips off his shoulders as he sets it on the ground in front of him and starts digging through it. Her impatience is palpable but the moment of waiting makes her aware of you for the first time. 

She dips forward, almost like she’s trying to whisper to him but she’s way too loud to actually do so. “Who’s that?”

The question makes Eddie stiffen. You’re not sure if it’s because he forgot you were there or the survival instinct of realizing someone is behind him. Either way, you step further into his line of vision, and closer to Libby, as you offer your name along with your hand. “I’m traveling with Eddie for a couple of days.”

The girl makes no move to shake your hand as she eyes it warily. “Come on, Lib. Don’t be rude.” At Eddie’s goading, she hesitantly takes your hand in her own, the taupe skin of her palm dry and soft, and lets it move up and down once before she’s letting go. She looks a bit shy now that she’s noticed you, causing her excitement for whatever Eddie continues to dig for in his bag to lessen. The fact that she is so shy around strangers but so comfortable with Eddie speaks volumes. Her eyes nervously glance between you and Eddie until an “Ah-ha!” brings the entirety of her focus toward the man before her. He produces a small antler from the bottom of his backpack – 4 tongs of khaki colored bone converging to a shaft with a rough, brown texture almost like bark.

“Wow,” she gasps, eyes wide in child-like delight as she reaches her hands out towards it. “Is it real?”

“Yeah, squirt,” Eddie chuckles, tucking some loose hair behind his ear, “super real.”

“But, but…” those same wide eyes start to water as she cups the antler in her palms. “What happened to the deer that had it?”

“Oh! It, uh…” Eddie fumbles, his own eyes as wide as hers now as he tries to come up with something to ease her rising sadness.

You step closer and drop down beside Eddie, your knee knocking his own with the movement. “Actually, Libby, deer shed the antlers on their own.” Her eyebrows pinch together in confusion as she turns the bone over in her hands. “In the winter time, male deer’s antlers fall off so that when spring comes, they can grow bigger and better ones. See here,” you dip forward a bit more and point toward the base of it. “That’s called the burr, where it connects to the deer’s head. Once a year, the stuff that connects the burr falls apart, kinda like when a plant on a leaf starts to turn brown. Then, you cut off the brown leaf, and a bigger and healthier leaf can grow back.”

Her sadness converted back to awe during your explanation, although still a bit hesitant. “So it doesn’t hurt them?”

“Nope,” you confirm with a smile, “doesn’t hurt them at all.”

“That’s so cool!” She hops again, gripping the antler in her fists. “I wanna go show Mama.”

“Is she at the shop?” Eddie asks as he rises to his feet with a soft groan of complaint. She nods and takes off running towards the crowded square full of tents in the distance. “Fuckin’ kid,” he sighs, although it’s with nothing but affection in his tone. His head tilts toward you, a self deprecating smile tilting his mouth. “Thanks, uh, for the save.”

You wave him off, taking a moment to dust off the knees of your jeans. “No problem. Looked like you needed it.”

“A little bit, yeah.” He shakes his head, a few more shaggy waves falling loose to frame his face. “Y’know I definitely killed that deer and ate it, right?”

“Oh absolutely,” you agree in a tease, knocking your elbow against his, “but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

The knock seems to jar him back into reality, reminding him of who you are and what you’re doing here. It’s almost like watching him physically retreat back into himself as his smile fades. “I guess. Come on, let’s get some food.”

Eddie’s arm is behind you again as you trail after the path Libby had blazed towards the busy market. The crowd is even thicker here, with more people just standing and talking rather than moving, which presses you closer into Eddie’s side as you try not to get separated. He’s alarmingly warm, even through 2 layers – each time your sides brush against each other the shock of it makes you hyper aware of each moment the two of you touch. It gives you something to focus on, to ground yourself, as he leads you off the road and through one of the crowded paths between makeshift market stalls. 

It seems like sometimes Eddie forgets who you are, and in those moments, he’s not as cold to you. It’s confusing, to say the least. The hot and cold treatment. Like he has some preconceived notion of you that affects how he treats you and it isn’t necessarily aligned with how you act toward him. You’ve heard a lot of stories about Eddie Munson over the years. It makes you wonder how many stories he’s heard about you. It’s hard to imagine he’s heard any but there has to be something to make him act this way.

The two of you approach a shop that’s cut into the building beside the market, like a walk up restaurant. There are several people milling about with their heads dipped over steaming bowls, eating quickly before they have to get on their way again. “Hey Mags?” Eddie calls out as he approaches the open door to the inside. His arm falls from behind you as you stop to wait for an answer, but you don’t have time to think about it before the smell hits you. Something rich, meaty, earthy, and just a little bit spicy wafts through the air and has your empty stomach twisting over itself in desire.

“Is that Eddie Munson, I hear?” A woman emerges from the darkened kitchen, wiping her hands on the towel tucked into her apron. Her russet brown complexion is coated in a thin layer of sweat as she brings the towel up to run across her forehead before she greets Eddie with a warm smile. “Libby just ran by shoutin’ something about you being back, bringin’ her something. You know you don’t need to get her gifts like that, Ed.”

“I know, Mags,” he sighs, shifting to the side to lean his shoulder on the wall beside the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “Just can’t help it sometimes.”

“Well you should try!” She laughs, a deep and melodic chuckle that settles over you like a warm blanket. Her deep brown eyes meet yours as she adjusts the sapphire-toned turban covering the majority of her scalp. “And who do we have here?”

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie stands upright again, waving you a few steps closer. He introduces you by name, citing that you’re traveling with him for a couple days in a repeat of the same thing you’d told Libby.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, darlin’.” She offers her hand, warm and firm on your own with a much nicer shake than Libby had allowed. “I’m Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you, Maggie. Are you the one cooking? It smells amazing.”

She stands a bit taller, looking proud at the compliment. “Got a nice big pot of gumbo going today. Y’all hungry?”

“Absolutely starved,” Eddie confirms, already looking like he’s salivating just at the idea of eating whatever she’s cooked. She waves you both toward the window, going back inside to serve you through it. She pours you each a steaming bowl of gumbo, the chunks of meat indiscernible but the dark roux soaking into the white rice along the bottom of the bowl is more than enough to have you digging in to eat before you even move an inch away. Eddie tries to give her a few pieces of paper between wolfish bites of soaked meat and rice, calls them ration cards, and Maggie adamantly refuses them over and over.

“So,” Maggie looks to you after waving Eddie off for the 4th time, “been travelin’ long?”

Ignoring the scars that flare along your esophagus at the thought, you shrug. “Just over a week, so not too long. Really excited to take advantage of Eddie’s promise for a shower though.” He seems to pause for a moment when you say his name, hesitating, before he goes back to inhaling his bowl. “Just wish I had a change of clothes, really. Had to leave my old place fast.”

She looks you up and down for a moment, as well as she can through the serving window, then she calls behind her. “Hey, Papa?”

A figure appears from the shadows beyond the reach of the afternoon sun. His tan skin is flushed red from the heat of the kitchen, sweat across his brow that rolls down his temples and into the patchy, black beard across his jaw. He twists to her side, resting one hand on the counter before them and the other reaching across to her outer hip. “¿Sí, Mama?”

She leans into his embrace without taking her eyes off of stirring the boiling pot in front of her. “Why don’t you run and grab Ed’s friend some clothes to change into? Then she’ll have something to wear while he washes them.”

The kind gesture has you reeling back. “Oh no, I couldn’t ask that of you. The hot meal is more than enough.”

Her dark eyes reach you again, this time with a glint of mischievousness. “I mean, I suppose if you would prefer to have nothing to wear while you wait for your clothes to dry…”

The obvious implication has blood rushing to the surface of your skin. “No, it’s not – I mean, I –”

“She’ll take the clothes,” Eddie interrupts as he places his now empty bowl back on the counter. "Thanks, Mags. Always too kind to folks around here.” She scoffs, waving him off with a self satisfied smile. The man asks you for some approximate sizes to fish for and you give him your best guesses, saying you'd prefer too big over too small. He gives you a little salute and disappears back into the shadows behind Maggie. You're pulling the last few bites of your bowl back towards you when Eddie speaks again. "You seen Red around?"

She shakes her head, expression falling a touch. "Not in a few days."

He swears under his breath, looking out into the crowd. Almost like he would just happen to catch the person he was asking about if he looked hard enough. "She mention where she was going or who with?"

"Oh yeah," Maggie's tone drops to a smooth monotone. "She told me all about it. And then we braided each other's hair and talked about boys."

Eddie lets out a soft laugh, rubbing along the side of his scruff a bit sheepishly. "Touché."

Maggie steps out from behind the stove to lean down on the counter beside it. “You know she’s fine. Who knows, maybe she’s up there sleeping right now and you’re down here worryin’ for nothing.”

“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right.”

“Always am,” she replies happily, attention shifting to you. “All done?”

“Yes,” you pass your bowl over toward her with a grateful smile. “It was delicious, thank you so much again.”

“Happy to, sugar.” She takes the bowl with one hand and offers a reassuring squeeze with the other. An overwhelming kind gesture that has you choking up against your will. “Ed, why don’t you take her up to get cleaned? I’ll have Gus bring the clothes over when he gets back.”

His eyebrows draw together on his forehead, “You sure, Mags? We don’t mind waiting.” We? He’s thinking of us as a we?

Don’t overthink it.

She waves him off again, using the tips of her fingers to cover that same mischievous smile. “Your smell is scarin’ off the customers anyway. Go on now.”

Suddenly self conscious, you try to subtly take a smell of yourself while Eddie thanks her again and says his goodbye. He turns to leave so you offer a quick wave before stepping into pace with him again. The crowd has thinned out a bit now as the sun begins to sink further toward the horizon. The lack of people seems to make him not feel the need to lead you like he did before, with his hand ghosting over your back. You try hard not to ignore your disappointment and the lingering warmth of his palm along your spine.

“Do we actually smell that bad?” You find yourself asking as you walk with him back the way you came, seeing a bit more of the tan, dusty streets than you could before.

He gives you a side eye, before replying. “I’ve been within 10 feet of you for over 3 days. If you smell, I smell, and neither of us can smell it on each other.”

“Touché,” you echo, a small smile coming to your face as you repeat what he said to Maggie just a few minutes ago. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him shake his head. And maybe – just maybe – trying to hide a little smile of his own.

Eddie leads you back to the initial intersection, the road that bisects with the cathedral, but brings you the opposite direction. Peeking between buildings, you can see the Mississippi River running wild only a mile or so ahead. To your right there’s a stately building, with its tall pillars and stone carvings, the words ‘MEMPHIS POLICE STATION’ etched into the stone. Beside it there’s a smaller building, more overgrown, less taken care of. Vines climb up the sidewalls and press into broken windows. Graffiti covers the bright red doors and the smashed out sign of the ‘Firefighters Museum of Memphis’. You press forward, past what looks like an apartment building on either side, through the intersection beyond, and towards the large building on the corner. The awning in front of the door reads ‘The Claridge House’, with the word condominiums written in smaller text underneath.

“Condominiums?” You wonder aloud as you follow him past the marble entry and into the ‘fancy’ lobby. Fancy by 1980’s standards with it's brushed metal detailing, blackish-green marble, and large designs in the tile floor. It’s empty apart from a single man in an armchair, legs kicked up and a hat over his face as he rests.

Your companion doesn’t reply, just heads over to the door to the stairwell and holds it open for you to pass through. After spending the last few days out in the open, you still find yourself on high alert – checking corners and looking ahead as you ascend. The rational part of your brain insists that this is a QZ, people live here, the likelihood of there being a random infected in here is near 0.

The irrational part of your brain supplies that the odds are not completely 0.

If Eddie notices your apprehension, he doesn’t say so. Just directs you to exit the stairwell at the 4th floor and head down the hallway to your left. Every other lightbulb is out as you proceed down the carpeted hall, casting an eerie shadowed effect across the peeling wallpaper on the walls. There is very little noise coming from the rooms you pass, leading you to believe they are either unoccupied or the occupants are elsewhere. Most of what you do hear is very muffled conversation here and there, along with the odd bleed of music through the walls.

As you turn the corner, Eddie brushes past you in the narrow hallway, taking the lead as he approaches the door labelled ‘413’. He digs a key out of his pack, unlocks the door, and pushes inside.

The door opens into a square shaped room with two windows on the far wall. They’re west facing, the first orange tints of the soon to be setting sun filtering in through the makeshift curtains. There are a few random posters stuck to beige walls, mostly bands and movies from when you were kid. There’s a rug across the wooden floor that has definitely seen better days, a sunken brown couch and 2 mismatched armchairs facing across from a homemade shelf of concrete blocks and planks of wood. There’s a layer of dust on the record player on the top shelf and the assortment of stacked vinyls below, some in their paper envelopes and others laying on scraps of fabric or pieces of paper. A few steps inside has the dust rising, dancing in harsh sun rays that press in from outside.

“Oy, Red?” Eddie calls, shutting the door behind you both and pushing past you around a corner. “You here?” Two doors open and close as you slowly approach the shelves, running your fingertip through the dust that sits on the cover of a Metallica vinyl. It’s less dusty than the other records below it, but it still hasn’t been touched in a week or more.

“Damn it,” is Eddie’s mumbled curse as he reappears from the side hallway. Turning his direction, you see him lean a shoulder against the wall separating a small kitchen from the rest of the condo. He wipes a hand across his forehead, causing his greasy and sweat-laden bangs to stick out in odd directions.

“She not here?” You prod, still not even really sure who she is.

He looks up, eyebrows raised in surprise, and crosses his arms over his chest again. “No,” he grumbles, casting a glare back towards the hallway. “No note or anything.”

You nod, shifting awkwardly from where you stand in the middle of his living room. Your feet are killing you and you’d like nothing more than to sit down or maybe take that shower you were promised, but it’s hard to move past the feeling of intruding in a place you don’t belong. “I’m sure she’s fine, Maggie seemed sure of it.”

“I know, I know, I know she is more than fucking capable of taking care of herself, it’s just…” Eddie hesitates, glancing from you to the floor. He sighs, his shoulders falling as his eyes drift closed. “Forget it. You can put your bag in the bedroom on the left, I’ll find a towel or something.”

He disappears into one of the open doors and quickly shuts it behind him, leaving you alone in the dust. That feeling is back; like he wanted to talk to you but then remembered who you were and suddenly decided he couldn’t. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, the idea that he thinks you’re untrustworthy. Or maybe it’s for an entirely different reason. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. Either way you have no idea what you could’ve done for such a reaction.

Inching your way around the corner, you get a better view of the hallway. To your right is the door Eddie disappeared into. Before you are two doors. The one to the right is closed, so you walk toward the door on the left. The room is mostly empty – there’s a full size mattress slightly raised off the floor, a blue quilt spread over it, and a bookshelf in the corner being half used for books and half as a dresser. The only other things in the room are an acoustic guitar propped up in the corner and a mug full of pens and lighters sitting on the wood shelf. Walking closer, you see the mug is a cream color and the design is slightly worn off – there’s a cartoon drawing of an apple and mismatched text saying ‘I’d rather be at lunch!’. You manage to set down your backpack at the foot of the bed before Eddie reemerges.

“You can shower first,” he says from a few steps away from the open doorway. “I left a towel on the sink for you. There’s soap and some kind of homemade shampoo Mags gave me. I’ll go find Gus to get those clothes and throw them in when I have them.”

You’re stunned by the show of kindness. “Oh… Thank you, Eddie.” He shrugs and turns back toward the living room. His backpack is missing but you aren’t quite sure where he put it. “Is there anything about the shower I should know?” You call after him. He freezes, turning back toward you with his face pinched in confusion. “Like there’s only so much hot water or something? I don’t want to force you into a cold shower.”

It’s his turn to look stunned, his gaze hard as if he’s testing you. You struggle to remain firm under his scrutiny, just like you had the first time. After a moment, he tucks his hands into his back pockets as he slightly shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Water is lukewarm at best anyway.”

He pushes out the door before you can say anything else, the lock sliding into place a second later.

You set yourself to the task of getting to some semblance of clean. The shower pressure and temperature definitely left something to be desired, but you were hardly in a place to complain. You scrub your skin down until it screams for mercy and then apply the same treatment to your scalp. Halfway through your battle, the door clicks open, there’s a noise of something hitting the floor, and then the door clicks shut again. Trying to carefully piece through your hair, you have a moment to think about how long it’s been since you last took a shower. Not since the day before…

Don’t think about it.

Forcing yourself out of the shower before more cracks appear in your foundation, you towel off yourself as best you can and then sift through the pile of clothes now on the bathroom floor. There’s a soft, dark gray t-shirt, a denim button up, a pair of sturdy black jeans, a new pair of mismatched socks. There’s also a few pairs of underwear to your embarrassment. You’re grateful to have the extras of course, but the idea of both Gus and Eddie handling them has you a bit mortified. The underwear and t-shirt go on, foregoing the new sports bra for tomorrow, and you’re about to put the jeans on when you spy a pair of boxers at the bottom of the pile. They’re large on you and cover enough for you to be comfortable sleeping in them. Better than jeans anyway. You fold your new clothes and collect your dirty ones in a bundle beneath your arm and push back out into the living room.

You almost run straight into Eddie from where he’s walking out of the room he’d told you to put your things in. “Oh, sorry,” you apologize on instinct, ducking out of his way and back toward the kitchen.

“It’s fine,” his tone is flat, emotionless. He looks like he’s aged another 5 years since you last saw him 30 minutes ago. “You can throw your dirty clothes on the floor, we’ll figure it out tomorrow. Take whatever you want from the kitchen. Can put on a record or grab one of my books or something, I don’t care.”

Trying not to take the dismissal personally, you just nod. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” He shrugs off your thanks and closes himself into the bathroom again. The shower turns on a few minutes later.

Your clothes get dumped on the floor next to the couch and you set the clean things on the end of the bed near your bag. The pattern of the wood digs into your feet uncomfortably so you end up putting the new socks on before you go snooping. There’s a small assortment of canned goods in the cabinets along with 2 sets of mismatched dishware. The only thing in the fridge is a half empty 6 pack of beer and a jug of drinking water. You pour yourself a glass and dig out a can of fruit before settling down on one side of the couch with your snack. The sun has dipped below the buildings beyond now, bathing the faded rug in orange.

The silence becomes too much in less than a minute. You cross the room and flip on the record player, setting the disc already there to play from the beginning.

Little light shining Little light will guide them to me

A high pitched feminine voice drawls out the words over a flowing piano. The melody is almost haunting as she picks through the verse, tone waving between sharp highs and rolling lows. It’s slow paced and bittersweet, but calming. The empty sleeve beside the spinning table says ‘Hounds of Love’ across the top, with a woman laying out across a pink toned bedspread. Not what you normally would have picked, but it fills the silence. 

Let me be weak, let me sleep and dream of sheep

You’re halfway through your can of mixed fruit soaked in a sugary liquid when the bathroom door clicks open. Eddie emerges in the middle of tugging a black shirt over his head. In the moments between, you catch a glimpse of his torso: lithe muscle and narrow waist. There’s a large scar across his left side, but you aren’t able to guess what from before it disappears from view. He runs his hands around the collar of the shirt, releasing his limp, damp waves from the fabric. When it’s wet, it’s near impossible to see the lines of gray you know are scattered through it. He’s wearing a loose pair of sweatpants that skim the floor as he walks over to the record player.

“Kate Bush, huh?” You’re too distracted by his arms to notice. He wore his leather jacket almost the entire time you were traveling with him, and this is the first time you’ve actually seen them. They’re not exceptionally muscular, definitely strong for sure, but what catches your attention is the scars along his skin. There are cuts and slashes that range from barely visible to a bright white against his skin. An indent in the epidermis across his bicep, the skin above it puckered and tinted pink. More evidence of wounds old and new are discovered each moment you keep looking. Realizing he’s asked you a question, but already not remembering what it was, you make a confused hum to see if he’ll repeat it.

“Kate Bush,” he repeats, waving his hand toward the spinning vinyl. “You pick it?”

You shake your head, setting your snack off to the side. “Was already there, I just restarted it.”

“Huh.” His eyes track back to it as it continues to play, moving forward to a song about being stuck under ice. Those brown eyes are settled in a glare, like the vinyl is hiding something from him and he can intimidate it into talking. When it doesn’t budge, he shakes his head, his hair leaving droplets behind as he walks into the kitchen. He returns with a can of his own, falling onto the other side of the couch with a groan. “So you can take the bed and I’ll sleep out here.”

You spin toward him, nearly dropping your glass of water in shock. “What? No, I’m not taking your bed.”

He leans his head back, wet waves draping down across his shoulders. He looks tired. Weary, exhausted. And not the kind you can fix with sleep. Eyes closed as he faces the ceiling, he sighs. “Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” You repeat, more intently. “I’ll be fine on the couch, if you sleep on this thing you’ll probably throw your back out or something.”

A snort leaves his nose, the corner of his mouth turning up in amusement. “Good one.” You try not to let the acceptance go to your head as he rolls his head to look at you. “You’re gonna sleep in the bed. If my old man knew I made a woman sleep on the couch while I had a bed, he’d roll over in his grave. So please… Just take the bed.”

The bags under his eyes are more pronounced as the light fades from the room. They drag at the bottom lid lined with black lashes, sunken into the skin above his cheekbones. Between the dead stare he pins you with and the heavy weight that presses him down into the flattened cushions of the couch, you find yourself softly agreeing. 

When the record finishes playing, you refill your glass of water and go into Eddie’s room, pulling the chain to turn on the bare bulb above the bed. You push the door mostly closed, leaving it open just an inch or two. You can’t see anything beyond it, but knowing that if something happened, if there was some noise or movement or attack, you’d be a little bit more likely to hear it. It helps.

Eddie’s sheets smell like pine, whiskey, and something human. You take the second pillow along the top between your arms, crush it to your chest, press your face into it. Breathe in deep. And wait to fall asleep.

Wednesday, August 17th, 2016 – Memphis, Tennessee

Waking up the next morning is a struggle. Mostly because you couldn’t sleep for more than 2 hours at a time. It had been awhile since you were given the opportunity to sleep through the entire night and your body did not receive the memo.

The next time your eyes crack open and there is a bit of soft light coming from between the blinds, you decide to admit defeat. The decision is further enforced by hearing a hushed argument from beyond the crack in the door. In your half asleep state, you don’t even think before you’re rolling out of bed and pushing the door open.

Conversation stops the moment the door squeaks open. Standing in the doorway, a pair of deep brown and a pair of bright blue eyes pin you in place.

The bright blues belong to a woman who looks like a cross between a soldier and a viking. She’s armed to the teeth, at least 4 knives visible on her person as well as a pistol in her holster and an assault rifle slung over her shoulder. Her dark green tank top is slightly stained with something that could either be mud or old blood, there is dirt brushed over the entirety of her cargo pants, and her military-grade boots have left definite marks behind her to the door. The pale skin of her defined arms have a myriad of scars, all looking no more than 2 years old. The lower half of her scalp is shaven low and the upper half is pulled together in a long, ginger braid that reaches between her shoulder blades. Her eyes are striking and intense, shocking you still much more than Eddie’s surprised expression.

Breaking the stand off, you take a few steps closer to the edge of the living room. “You must be Red,” you offer your name to her along with your hand.

“Max. Not Red,” is her only response, ignoring the hand you’d held out to her in favor of turning back to Eddie. “Just because you leave a little love letter whenever you’re going out doesn’t mean I have to.”

Eddie nervously glances between where you’re slowly lowering your hand and the badass staring him down. “You don’t have to. It just would be nice to have an idea of where you are, and when you’re going to be back.”

Her arms cross tight over his chest. “So you don’t trust me.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.” Eddie pushes to his feet, his jaw set tight. “It has nothing to do with if I trust you or me thinking you’re not capable or something. You obviously are more than capable of taking care of yourself. It’s just…”

“It’s just what, Eddie?”

Her cold tone settles into the shadows of the room, making the air feel thicker and the temperature drop significantly. It sets you on edge, your muscles tightening and your posture straightening on instinct. It has the opposite effect on Eddie. The weariness from last night reappears; his shoulders slightly rolling forward, his presence getting smaller under her stare. It seems completely out of character for him to shrink this way to anyone at all, to bend to someone else’s will so hastily.

“And if you get him killed, Max will hunt you down.”

Dustin’s warning echoes back to you in the tense silence. Understanding that this human weapon is Max, and that she would kill if anything happened to Eddie, is enough to make you second guess any leniency you had felt toward his warning. This person looks like she could tear you apart and not even break a sweat.

“Forget it. Just think about it, okay?”

The defeat in his tone, how he breaks eye contact from her staredown, seems to be enough to make her soften. “Okay,” she acquiesces, dropping the assault rifle down to lean against the wall beside the couch. She glances back to where you still stand before tipping her head back and rolling her shoulders. “I’m gonna go get some sleep.” She pushes past you, trailing tan dust the entire way, before the right side door shuts behind her.

Eddie drags a hand down his face, taking a deep breath before setting his posture straight again. “Did we wake you?” He asks, his tone dry despite the thoughtful question.

“Oh, no,” you take a few steps closer to the couch, carefully stepping over the trail of dirt Max left along the floor. “I woke up first, heard the talking after.” He nods slowly, dropping back to sit on the edge of the couch. “How did you sleep?”

The question seems to catch him off guard. “Fine.”

You decide to take another chance. “No back pain?”

His exhausted expression shifts to one of disbelief, before he cracks a smile against his will. “Smart ass.” Grateful to have gotten him to smile, no matter how unwillingly, you plop down on the other side of the couch. “I need to meet up with some people today. Around town. Make some trades, get supplies for the rest of the trip.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You can feel his stare into the side of your face, a tingling warmth across your skin. “What? What is it?”

“What’re you going to do?”

I thought I was going with you. 

Turns out you will need to fend for yourself.

You last about 15 minutes alone in the apartment. Well, not alone. But Max definitely wasn’t showing any time soon. So you got dressed and went out.

“Hey! You’re the girl who was with Eddie yesterday right?”

Halfway to where you’d met Maggie yesterday, you’re intercepted by a blonde woman. Her hair is long, pin straight, pulled back in a ponytail. Alabaster skin, high cheekbones, hazel eyes. Looks like every prom queen you would see in every 90s movie. The IT girl. The beauty pageant winner. She’s wearing a yellow floral dress that reaches down below her knees but is slightly hitched up in the front from where it’s draped over her extended stomach. One hand rests on the bump while the other extends toward you. “I’m Sadie.”

“Like, the dance?” You ask through a laugh, giving her a hesitant handshake.

“It would be funny if my last name was Hawkins.”

Sadie explains she heard about you from Maggie and that she was just ‘waddling’ over to sit with her for a few hours. “You should come join us! Unless you had something you needed to get to?”

Her smile is warm, welcoming. You’d read in books and screenplays that people sometimes described pregnant people as ‘glowing’, and looking at Sadie now… You can see why. “That’s so nice of you to offer. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay, but I will definitely walk over there with you.”

You end up staying half the day. There’s an empty stall opposite Maggie’s kitchen with two chairs, one for you and one for her. Turns out Sadie is a talker. A bit like Dustin in that way. She doesn’t ask a lot of questions, doesn’t care too much for if you participate or not. She’s happy to just keep talking. Endlessly going on about life in Memphis, the push and pull of the local groups, who has been rumored to be cavorting with who. You obviously don't know any of these people, but it’s still fun to listen to her gossip. Quantico was a small community, mostly people who all already lived on base before the pandemic hit. There wasn’t a lot of drama or gossip. They almost never brought in new people and there wasn’t a lot of disagreement within the people who were there.

At least, not at first.

“So, what are you doing with Eddie?” Sadie asks, after spending almost 2 hours waxing on and on about the life and times of Memphis.

You’ve been listening and people watching for so long, you almost miss your cue to speak. “He’s, uh, he’s helping me travel. To meet up with family.”

“Oh!” Her smile is bright and full of awe. “That’s so sweet. How long has it been since you’ve seen them? The person you’re going to meet.”

How do you say 'I’ve never actually seen her before'?

“A long time.”

She ‘aww’s, dainty hand gripping your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Well, that’s amazing. Family is so important, and it can be so hard to stick together in times like these.”

Times like these? Is she for real?

“Yeah, that’s true. How, uh, how do you know Eddie?”

You’re desperate to get the subject back off of you and she seems more than happy to explain. “Everyone around here knows Eddie. He’s the sweetest guy, always so helpful. He runs errands for people all the time. Even the officers. I swear, so many people owe him favors, he could run this whole place if he really wanted to.” Sweet and helpful? “Him and that woman he lives with, with the red hair? Now she’s a brick. Scares me a bit, honestly. It really is a shame what happened. She was so full of life before.”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

She looks at you surprised, like she thought you would have already known. “It’s really not my place to tell. I’ve already said too much, I think.” She laughs nervously, rubbing a hand over her bump. Sure didn’t stop you when you were telling me about how Louise is juggling 3 men and none of them know it.

“Yeah, sure,” you cast your gaze back toward Maggie���s kitchen. There’s a walking path between where you’re sitting and the window that has been busy all day, people going this way and that. This market seems to be a big hub of the QZ, at least from what you’ve seen of it. You’ve listened to people trading all day, others talking about different things over bowls of Maggie’s stew of the day. Most of the eavesdropping you’d done had been much more interesting than Sadie after a while. Whispers of ration deliveries coming through less and less often. Some of the upper level FEDRA officers having meetings more often than they normally do. Nothing that is especially salacious, but apparently it’s enough to put some more paranoid people on edge.

Another hour or two passes of half listening to Sadie and half listening to the conversations around you before Eddie appears. He doesn’t notice you at first, walking up to Maggie’s door just like he did yesterday and calling her over. Her and Gus both step up and the three of them lean their heads toward each other, speaking low as Eddie pulls a set of folded papers out of his pocket and starts pointing things out to them. You sit up straighter, focusing in on them to see if you can catch a word or two on what they’re discussing, but you can’t hear anything over Sadie and the people walking between.

Warm, brown eyes meet yours before you can look away. His eyebrows draw together on his forehead, gaze flicking from you, to Sadie, and then back. There’s an obvious question in his expression, but Gus brings his attention back before you can figure out what it might be. “Oh, Eddie,” Sadie says, tapping her hand against your shoulder like you hadn’t already noticed him standing there. You give her a polite nod and smile then settle back into your plastic lawn chair. The trio only speaks for a few more minutes before Gus takes the papers from Eddie and both him and Maggie disappear back into the kitchen. “Eddie!” Sadie calls when she sees him free, waving happily to try to get his attention.

He tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, a dark wash compared to the light blue bootcuts he was wearing when you met him, and makes the few steps toward you both. He is wearing a black and red tie dye t-shirt, a white linen button up layered over it with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the scarred skin of his forearms. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail today, though it has a bit more life in it now that it’s been washed. The waves have a bit more definition, fluff up a bit more. It makes him look a bit boyish, more casual than the wolf you’d been traveling with so far. Like being in Memphis makes him softer, more relaxed.

“Afternoon,” he says once he’s passed the walking path. He eyes you both warily, like it makes him uncomfortable to see the two of you sitting together. Given Sadie’s propensity to run her mouth, you can’t blame him, though you can’t say you really learned too much about him or about Max.

“It’s nice to see you, Eddie. How long are you in town for?” Sadie’s smile is just as warm as it was towards you, her voice just as sweet, but for some reason having that same warmth directed toward Eddie makes the boil in your blood kick on.

He shifts from one foot to the other, glancing toward you again before he returns to her. “Only a day or two. We have to get on the road again, just stopped in town to stock up. And I had a delivery for Ahmed.”

“Yeah, she was just telling me you’re helping her travel to meet up with her family,” she squeezes your forearm gently again. “It’s good to hear nice stories like that, seems like everything is so sad nowadays.” He nods, breaking eye contact to look out over the market. “And it sure is lucky you ended up being back in town for the bonfire tonight.”

“Bonfire?” You ask, crossing your ankles over each other as you lean toward her another few inches.

Her expression is once again absolute delight. “Every month or so, we have a big bonfire down at Fourth Bluff Park. Everyone brings what they can, like a big potluck, and there’s music and dancing and everything. It’s the one time the officers get lenient with curfew – as long as nobody gets too rowdy.” Her bright eyes look between you and Eddie, now pleading. “You’re both coming, aren’t you?”

So when the sun starts to set, you find yourself walking side by side with Eddie toward the already roaring bonfire in the distance.

“Do you go to these things often?”

Eddie keeps several inches between the two of you as you walk, arms crossed over his chest. “Try to. Free food, free booze.”

You can’t help but perk up interest. “Free booze?”

He chuckles, his ponytail bobbing as he shakes his head. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not good booze.”

“Well… Any booze is good booze. At least in my opinion.” He hums an acknowledgement, side stepping out of the way when two kids run past you both in the opposite direction. “Are you planning on drinking tonight?”

His head tilts toward you, the fire already reflecting in his eyes despite the distance. “No, not tonight. But if you want to, by all means –”

“No, no.” You’re quick to interrupt, waving your hands in front of you in denial. “I don’t think so. Y’know, unfamiliar place and all.”

“Oh. Yeah, makes sense.” He kicks a rock out of his path, arms falling to his sides as you both get closer. “Seemed pretty comfortable with Sadie earlier though.”

It’s your turn to look him over. You can’t place how he feels about it, but the fact that he’s bringing it up now only reinforces the idea that he was uncomfortable when you were talking with her. “She’s sweet. Had a lot of nice things to say about you.”

A hand comes up to rub at the side of his scruff, his next breath long and loud. “Yeah, she has a kind heart for sure. Talkative too.”

“Absolutely,” you can’t help but smile, “I think I know the gossip of half the town now. Doesn’t do me much good when I don’t know anyone but… Suppose knowledge can be power.” You think back to what she said about Eddie, about how much power he wields here just by having so many people owe him favors. But, from what you can tell, he isn’t loud about that fact. He doesn’t run around flaunting it or acting high and mighty. If anything, it almost feels secretive. Something everyone knows but no one talks about. A silent power, a quiet force that works in the shadows. Hidden, but not invisible. Waiting for the right moment to collect.

“You’d think that but then you have Sadie, who knows a lot about a lot of people and…” He trails off, leaving the implication to hang there. Like he’s nervous to say it.

You’re not. “She is not the brightest bulb, that’s for sure.”

Eddie laughs, rocking back away from you with the force of it, a barking laugh that hits him expectedly. It’s louder than you were expecting but also makes it that much sweeter to hear. “No she is not.” He agrees once his laughter dies down. But his smile stays all the way up to the large group of people around the bonfire.

You’ve barely arrived before Libby seems to appear out of nowhere, grabbing at Eddie’s hands and trying to drag him away. He casts you a glance that you read as requesting your approval, and you wave him off. He lets the hyperactive girl lead him towards the tables of food. It isn’t long until Sadie finds you, looping her arm through your own and pulling you over toward a group of people laughing and talking. A drink is placed into your hand, one you smell and quickly assign as watered down piss-whiskey, so you nod a thanks and just hold it to have something to do with your hands. No one seems to pay you any mind beyond offering a polite nod of greeting, they all settle into a flow of familiar back and forth between friends.

It feels strange. To be in a community like this, to be around people like this. Laughing and talking and shooting the shit. It reminds you of how you felt when you saw Dustin and Eddie goofing around – this unfamiliarity with the comradery of it. A nagging feeling in the back of your head that it’s irrational to live like this, silly to let your guard down, irresponsible and unrealistic. How do these people act like everything is fine? Like they’re happy to live like this?

The squeal of a fiddle has you spinning on your heel toward the bonfire behind you. Across the way, a group is forming. People pulling together crates and turning over buckets to gather close together. A brunette drags her bow across the fiddle resting on her shoulder, a man holding a homemade banjo beside her, another setting up a hollowed out wooden box and sitting down right on top of it. An older woman settles onto a bucket with an acoustic guitar as a few other people with various instruments gather. The woman on the fiddle leads them into a tune, one you’re not even sure is an actual song, but they all seem to pick it up just the same.

Before too long a few couples have walked out in the space in front of the band, spinning their partners and getting into dances. A group of 4 kids runs over, linking their hands together, and starts to laugh and spin in a circle between the pairs. More people join the fray, enough to block your view. You whisper to Sadie that you’ll be back and part from the group to try to get a better view of the people playing.

You weave through the crowd and closer to that side of the circle, trying to dodge people swaying to the music or laughing boisterously and walking into your way. Half of the people you pass already seem intoxicated on the same piss that's in your cup, and it makes you shudder to think of how much of it they would’ve had to drink to even get buzzed. You find a good enough spot to watch the dancing and the players, standing off to the side, but almost jump out of your skin when someone clears their throat beside you.

Max is wearing a black hoodie over a pair of jeans, her hair down to cover the undercut. She looks so different here than the warrior you encountered this morning, her hands tucked into the pocket of her hoodie. “Hey,” she offers, barely any inflection applied.

“Hey.” She dips her head at your reply, barely an acknowledgement, before she sets her eyes back on the dancing again. You do the same, standing side by side for a while, just quietly watching the party happen around you.

Without warning, you see a few people presenting Eddie to the group of musicians. They greet him heartily, hands clapping on backs and all smiles as he interacts with them. He looks a bit like he’s trying to make a getaway, but it’s unsuccessful. A set of hands forces him down onto a wooden crate and an acoustic guitar is deposited into his hands. He runs the tips of his fingers along the strings, an easy smile growing on his face as the man on the wooden drum leans in to speak to him. From this distance, you can barely see him roll his eyes before nodding to agree. A murmur passes through the group, heads nodding and confirming before the tune they were still idly keeping up comes to a stop.

Eddie counts them off, giving 8 beats before he starts to strum. It’s a rhythmic back and forth across the strings, 4 or 5 times before the banjo plucks a 3 beat tune. The man on the wooden box bends forward and begins to tap his palm against the side, a heart beat that keeps with the melody of the banjo.

I come fresh from the street, fast on my feet Kinda crass and corny Not much meat on my bones and a whole lot alone And more than a little bit horny

A cheer rings out as Eddie starts to sing, his deep baritone ringing out in the clearing. There’s another whooping when he says the word ‘horny’, which sends him into laughs, almost missing his next cue to sing.

The old six string was all I had To keep my belly still And for each full hour lesson I gave I got a crisp ten dollar bill

You can’t take your eyes off of him. He keeps up the strumming as his eyes close, his neck extending as he sings loud and proud. The people around look on fondly, like they’re used to seeing this, like they look forward to when Eddie joins in with the band. You can’t blame them. It looks so natural to see a guitar in his hands, foot tapping, head shaking as he continues to sing. He interacts with the other people playing, leaning this way and that, even goading on the people dancing.

She said, "I wanna learn a lovе song, Full of happy things" She said, "I wanna learn a love song, Won't you let me hear you sing?" She said, "I wanna learn a love song, I wanna hear you play" She said, "I wanna learn a love song, Before you go away"

“He’s really good,” you admit, mostly to yourself. 

“Yeah, always has been.” When you look over at Max, she has a soft smile on her face. The first you’ve seen from the brief interactions you’ve had with her. “Used to be in a band and everything.”

The idea makes you smile – Eddie up on a stage, giving his all to a crowd of happy fans. Just like he is now, completely at ease and not even realizing he has the attention of almost everyone around. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

Eddie plays a few more songs with the band, singing all the while, before he excuses himself. There are some claps and cheers as he stands to leave and he treats them with a dramatic bow, earning himself a few wolf whistles. He makes it a few feet away before he spots you and Max in the crowd, his face brightening in recognition before he starts walking over. There’s an ease to how he moves now. Everything about him seems lighter than you’ve seen him so far.

“You’ve got some talent, Munson, I’ll give you that.”

He laughs again, the 3rd time you’ve gotten him to laugh today, as he comes to a stop before you both. “High praise.” It’s a sarcastic reply, but there’s still a dusting of pink across his cheekbones that might not be entirely from the exertion and the heat of the fire. “Hey Red.”

She jerks her head up in greeting. “I cleaned up the dirt I tracked in. Didn’t want to upset your delicate sensibilities.” You aren’t quick enough to catch the snort, bringing your free hand up to try to hide your smile.

“You’re so generous,” he deadpans back, though it’s hard to deny the smile that splits his lips. “Actually, I’m glad I caught you,” he directs back toward you. “I have to go back to the apartment to get something for a deal. Didn’t want to disappear without saying anything.”

“You mind if I tag along?” You find yourself asking without really thinking. “I could use the air.”

He looks surprised, wide eyes blinking a few times. “Oh, yeah, sure.” He looks expectantly over at Max, who waves him off.

“I’ll hang around here. See if I can get some of Mag’s pineapple upside down cake.” He nods, mumbling something about not blaming her, before he motions for you to push through the crowd first.

The further you get from the bonfire, the chiller the air becomes. Your jacket, which almost felt like too much by the flames, is now a welcome warmth as you walk with Eddie back the way you came. There’s almost no one around here, assuming most people are either at home or over with the party, so you walk together down empty and barely lit streets.

“Max said you were in a band.”

He groans goodnaturedly, as if he's embarrassed. “Yeah, before all this. Played guitar.”

You tuck your hands into the pockets of your jacket, your elbow brushing his on accident. “Your band have a name?”

“Corroded Coffin.”

It takes everything in you to try to hold in the laugh. “Sounds… Edgy.”

He rolls his eyes, knocking his elbow against yours on purpose this time. “It was very metal, thank you very much.”

“I’m sure it was,” you concede. The two of you settle into a companionable silence as you walk the now-recognizable path toward the Claridge House. He stands taller than he did earlier, looks happier. This Eddie is a far cry from the weary one you encountered last night and this morning. Was it being at home, around people he knew that made him feel this light? Or was it the opportunity to play for the crowd that lifted the weight off his shoulders?

After holding the door open for you again, the two of you climb up to the 4th floor and walk the carpet down toward apartment 413. Another bulb or two has gone out, along with another that flickers overhead. It makes the shadows stretch longer, look sharper as they press in toward the light. Still, you don’t find yourself checking corners like you did when you arrived yesterday. While not entirely at ease, it does feel a bit safer than it did before. You wait to the side while Eddie fishes the keys out of his pocket and pushes inside. He crosses the living room to flick on the lamp while you close the door behind you. “Should be just a minute, then we can head back.”

“Take your time,” you assure him, not actually in a hurry to go back. It had been a bit overwhelming at first. But really, the thing that stuck with you was this feeling of foreboding. Something you hadn’t been able to shake for years. This feeling that something bad was going to happen, something bad always happens, though you didn’t know what or when. Something about the bonfire made that feeling more intense. Either because it all seemed too good to be true or because it reminded you how unwilling you were to accept that maybe it was just good. Maybe something could just be good. Maybe it wasn’t all just going to hurt in the end.

Eddie rounds the corner from the kitchen, presenting an unmarked container with a smile, right when the apartment goes dark. The lamp, the nightlight in the hallway, the street light that slightly shone in the living room windows. They all flick off at once and send you both into darkness.

That’s the only warning you get before the blaring horn of alarms sound outside.

-

-

-

-

thanks for reading and for giving so much love on part 1 and the masterlist!! if you liked this part, please give it a reblog and leave a comment if you can :)

[meikyuunolovers]

Moments in Kinks-related books that I can't stop thinking about, no matter if it's happy, horrible, or sad :

-Michael Aldred. It was really interesting to see Ray's perspective. It was funny to see how he mentioned the word "friendship" right after writing about how Michael listened to the walls at the Connaught Gardens house. And also, Dave's recollection of their breakup. (X-Ray and Kink).

-Staying on the Michael Aldred topic, the fact that he was already trying to hit on Dave the first time they met during Ready, Steady, Go!. And Dave jokingly(?) punching Pete because... I don't remember what Pete did (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Mitch Mitchell almost joining The Kinks after the Cardiff incident (X-Ray, Kink and Americana I think?).

-["Where the fuck did the Greenlaw come from ?"] (X-Ray, I need to find the page again)

-Ray comparing Pete leaving the band to a divorce. (X-Ray)

-The whole David Watts bit aka. Ray attempts to sell his brother's hand to a man in exchange for a mansion after finding out the guy was gay with Mick's help. Also Mick was dancing around while in birth day clothing (X-Ray and Kink. I'm pretty sure Ray Davies: A Complicated Life also mentioned it).

-The mention of Nobby's picture with the guitar and shovel after he went back to his day job due to Pete coming back in 1966 (X-Ray).

-Mick Avory and his connections with the drag queen community (X-Ray).

-Mitch Mitchell hiding pigeons under his bed (Kink).

-Dave explaining Ray's behaviour with astrology (Kink).

-Everyone (the bros, Mick and Nobby) getting scolded by Grenville, and then Baptist entering the room drunk, in full Viking gear, and blowing a horn. Then Grenville resigned (Kink and Americana).

-Ken Jones' death (Americana and Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Mick falling and hurting his back while in a clown costume (Kink and Americana).

-Mick, a model, and a DJ (X-Ray).

-Mick attracting all the drag queens even though he's "straight" (Ray's words, not mine) (X-Ray).

-The house Dave and Mick (and Michael Aldred !) lived in had to get exorcised after they all left (don't remember which one, X-Ray maybe ?— Actually I think it was Ray Davies: A Complicated Life. Not sure though).

-The "pineapple juice" bit (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Baptist eating a restaurant bill, and then Pamela (one of the backing singers during Preservation era) trying to do the same but not being allowed to (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-The Kinks almost having a punch-up after a concert because Bob asked for a pizza and the brothers "went apeshit" (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Jim getting to go to the Rock N' Roll Hall of Fame ceremony, even though he wasn't inducted (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Chrissie Hynde being scared that her and Ray's house might be haunted, so Ray called Peggy who called Dave for assistance (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Nobby thinking him leaving the Kinks was fated (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-1984 being a bad year for basically everyone (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Gordon having to calm down Mick's murderous intents for half an hour after the latter had to be sent to the dressing room following a fight with Dave (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Baptist dropping college right before his finals just so he could join The Kinks (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Nobby sprinting, diving and swimming Baptist back to the shore after the keyboardist accidentally fell (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-The Early 70s lineup members having nicknames (Nobby for John D, Baptist for John G, Hyde for Dave and One Step for Mick) (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-The "Kinks Hijack Plane" headline. Aka the Kinks got drunk before a flight, Dave went feral and Nobby screaming out of frustration from missing a soccer match (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-"[Ray] Davies was a horrible geezer – a cunt" - Phil May (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Mick and Baptist going Cassandra truth-mode on Andy (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Ray knocking out Baptist during a fight before the encore (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Jim and Gordon contrasting each other (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-The "Psychatrist. Hours open: 10-12" door (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

-Pete jokingly telling John Entwistle to give his bass to "a real bass player" (Ray Davies: A Complicated Life).

Other post I said I would post months ago, but didn't until today. It's a bit dusty because the only modification I did was remove 1 moment because I genuinely didn't know how to feel about that one.

[panelshowsource]

britcom comedians & panel show personalities who share your sign

AQUARIUS ♒ dara ó briain • frank skinner • glenn moore • guz khan • hugh dennis • lucy porter • maisie adam • mark watson • phil wang • vic reeves

PISCES ♓ aisling bea • alan davies • dave gorman • ed gamble • jenny eclair • katy wix • michael mcintyre • rose matafeo

ARIES ♈ andy parsons • desiree burch • ed byrne • gary delaney • jamali maddix • john kearns • josh widdicombe • josie long • roisin conaty • romesh ranganathan • rory bremner

TAURUS ♉ al murray • alex brooker • catherine tate • greg davies • joe wilkinson • john robins • mae martin • milton jones • morgana robinson • rhys james • rob brydon • sally phillips • sandi toksvig • sean lock • stephen mangan

GEMINI ♊ alan carr • bob mortimer • david baddiel • fern brady • judi love • julian clary • london hughes • mel giedroyc • noel fielding • paul sinha • rich hall • richard ayoade • sara pascoe • sarah millican • shappi khorsandi • sindhu vee • tom allen

CANCER ♋ adam hills • alice levine • david mitchell • katherine ryan • harriet kemsley • ian hislop • jack whitehall • joe lycett • paul merton • peter serafinowicz • phill jupitus • rosie jones

LEO ♌ bridget christie • cariad lloyd • chris ramsey • daisy may cooper • frankie boyle • isy suttie • lee mack • jo brand • nish kumar • victoria coren mitchell

VIRGO ♍ alex horne • dane baptiste • darren harriott • ivo graham • jimmy carr • johnny vegas • lolly adefope • miles jupp • nina conti • stephen fry • sue perkins • tim key

LIBRA ♎ diane morgan • harry hill • jack dee • jon richardson • limmy • nick helm • rhod gilbert • robert webb • tiff stevenson • zoe lyons

SCORPIO ♏ angela barnes • chris addison • elis james • ellie taylor • holly walsh • liza tarbuck • jonathan ross • kerry godliman • kevin bridges • matt forde • mike wozniak • sofie hagen • susan calman

SAGITTARIUS ♐ adam riches • david o'doherty • jessica knappett • larry dean • miranda hart • richard osman • seann walsh • simon amstell • steven k. amos

CAPRICORN ♑ ahir shah • angus deayton • bill bailey • claudia winkleman • james acaster • mark lamarr • paul foot • rob beckett • suzi ruffell

[fluentisonus]

The churches of the town of Dunwich slowly falling into the sea one after another, as described in a topographical and historical description of the county of suffolk (1829):

"Gardner, in his historical account of Dunwich, observes, that one of the two carves of land, taxed in the reign of Edward the Confessor, was found to be swallowed up by the sea, at the time of the survey made by order of William the Conqueror. The church of Felix, and the cell of monks, were lost very early. In the first year of Edward the Third, the old port was rendered entirely useless, and before the twenty-third year of that king's reign, a great part of the town, with upwards of 400 houses, which paid rent to the fee-farm, with certain shops and windmills, were devoured by the sea. After this the church of St. Leonard was overthrown; and, in the fourteenth century, the churches of St. Martin and St. Nicholas were also destroyed by the waves. In 1540, the church of St. John Baptist was taken down; and in the same century the chapels of St. Anthony, St, Francis, and St. Catharine, were overthrown, with the South Gate and Gild Gate, and not one quarter of the town left standing. ... In the reign of Charles I, the foundation of the Temple buildings yielded to the irresistible force of the undermining surges, and in 1677 the sea reached the market-place. In 1680 all the buildings north of Maison Dieu lane were demolished, and in 1702 the sea extended its dominion to St. Peter's church, on which it was divested of the lead, timber, bells, and other materials, the walls only remaining, which tumbled over the cliff as the water undermined them; and the town hall suffered the same fate. In 1715 the gaol was undermined and in 1729 the farthest bounds of St. Peter's churchyard fell into the sea. In December 1740, the wind blowing very hard from the north-east, and continuing for several days, occasioned terrible devastations for a great part of the cliffs were washed away, with the remains of St. Nicholas's churchyard, as also the great road which formerly led into the town. ... All Saints, as observed before, is the only church of which any portion is still standing.*"

*All Saints Church has, since this account was written, entirely fallen into the sea.

[rabbitcruiser]

American Revolutionary War: Three thousand British soldiers under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Archibald Campbell captured Savannah on December 29, 1778.

[justforbooks]

Cissy Houston

American gospel, pop and soul singer who co-founded the Sweet Inspirations

The career of the American singer Cissy Houston, who has died aged 91, exemplified the vital force underlying so much modern popular music: the close relationship between African-American sacred and secular idioms, specifically the influence seeping from Black gospel music, with its deep emotional roots and eruptions of ecstatic fervour, into the fabric of R&B, soul and pop.

Houston spent 30 years as the “minister of music” at the New Hope Baptist Church in her native Newark, New Jersey. But she also sang, often with her nieces Dionne and Dee Dee Warwick, on many of the great pop hits of the 1960s and 70s, from the Drifters’ On Broadway through Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl, Aretha Franklin’s (You Make Me Feel Like a) Natural Woman, Dusty Springfield’s Son of a Preacher Man and Paul Simon’s Mother and Child Reunion to David Bowie’s Young Americans.

As a founder member of a vocal group known as the Sweet Inspirations, she toured and recorded with Elvis Presley. After leaving the group in 1970 to raise her family, she pursued a solo career, recording albums and appearing in New York night clubs, which reached its peak with two Grammy awards for her traditional gospel albums Face to Face in 1997 and He Leadeth Me the following year.

She also became known as the mother of the singer Whitney Houston, whose enormous worldwide success, following her appearance in the 1992 film The Bodyguard, attracted attention to a private life that included a turbulent marriage to the singer Bobby Brown and problems with drug addiction.

Whitney, who had begun her singing career under her mother’s tutelage in the New Hope choir, was found dead in the bath of a Beverly Hills hotel in 2012, aged 48. Three years later Whitney’s daughter Bobbi Kristina Brown, a singer and reality TV personality, died after being discovered in similar circumstances, aged 22.

Cissy Houston was born Emily Drinkard, the eighth and last child of Delia Mae (nee McCaskill) and Nitcholas “Nitch” Drinkard, natives of Georgia who moved to New Jersey in the 1920s. Delia died when Cissy – a childhood nickname that stuck – was eight, followed 10 years later by her husband. Cissy went to live with her married older sister, Lee Warrick, whose children included Dionne and Dee Dee, both only a handful of years younger than their aunt.

Virtually from infancy Cissy and her brothers and sisters had been encouraged by their parents to sing in church. They formed a vocal group, into which Cissy was enrolled when she was five. “I used to get so mad,” she told Rolling Stone magazine in 1978. “We’d be out playing in the sun with the other kids and my older sister, Marie, would make us come in for rehearsal.”

The Drinkard Singers achieved national renown, eventually appearing at Carnegie Hall and the Newport Folk festival. In 1954 Cissy took charge of the New Hope choir, which increased from 15 to 60 voices during her years in charge.

A first marriage in 1955 to Freddie Garland brought her a son, Gary, but ended in divorce. In 1964 she married John Houston, an army veteran who became her manager and with whom she had two children, Michael and Whitney.

By the time the second marriage brought her a change of surname, she was working regularly as a backing singer on pop recording sessions, in demand for her three-octave range. With the two Warrick sisters (who would alter their spelling to Warwick) and a friend, Doris Troy, she formed a unit that was soon busy in New York studios providing backing vocals on hits by Solomon Burke, Chuck Jackson and many others.

When all three of her colleagues left to pursue solo careers, she replaced them with Estelle Brown, Sylvia Shemwell and Myrna Smith. Among their regular employers was the Atlantic Records producer Jerry Wexler, who recruited them for sessions with Franklin, with Cissy providing the coloratura soprano flourishes featured on Franklin’s Ain’t No Way in 1968. Wexler also gave them their name, which formed the title of their most successful single, Sweet Inspiration, a top 20 hit when released on Atlantic in 1967.

While bringing up her children, Cissy continued to record and make occasional appearances. Although she made several solo albums for a variety of labels and producers, she was never able to match the solo successes in the pop charts of the Warwick sisters or Troy. But when Burt Bacharach recorded his own versions of some of his greatest hits in 1971, he chose her to sing One Less Bell to Answer, Mexican Divorce and All Kinds of People. In 1976 she was featured in Gospel Fuse, a gospel opera composed by Carman Moore and performed with the San Francisco Symphony orchestra, conducted by Seiji Ozawa.

On the 1989 album Whitney, which would sell more than 20m copies around the world, she joined her daughter for a duet on I Know Him So Well, from the musical Chess. In 1992 she and Jackson were reunited for a fine R&B album titled I’ll Take Care of You. By the time she achieved her Grammy gospel successes, secular music was occupying less of her time, although in 2006 she, Whitney and Dionne Warwick recorded a song called Family First for the Hollywood rom-com Daddy’s Little Girls.

In 1998 she published her autobiography, How Sweet the Sound. Fifteen years later, in Remembering Whitney, she told the harrowing story of her long but unavailing struggle to help her daughter overcome her various problems.

Both her marriages ended in divorce. She is survived by her two sons, six grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

🔔 Cissy Houston (Emily Drinkard), singer, born 30 September 1933; died 7 October 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[alleannaharris]

Today's Black History Month illustration is of the classical singer Marian Anderson, whose 1939 performance at the Lincoln Memorial raised awareness of racial discrimination.

Anderson was born in 1897 in South Philadelphia. When she was 6 years old, she became a member of the choir at Union Baptist Church, where people called her “Baby Contralto.” Her father, John, was a coal and ice dealer at Reading Terminal Market , and when Anderson was 8, her father bought her a piano. Her family couldn’t afford lessons, so she taught herself.

Anderson’s father passed away when she was 12, so her mother, Anna, had to raise her and her two sisters. Despite her father’s death, Anderson continued to stay committed to church and choir. Her commitment and skills impressed her choir so much that the church worked together to raise enough money to pay for her to train under a respected voice teacher, Giuseppe Boghetti.

In 1928, she performed at Carnegie Hall and thanks to a Julius Rosenwald scholarship, went on tour through Europe. By the late 1930s, Marian Anderson was famous in US and Europe. In 1936, President Roosevelt and Eleanor invited Anderson to perform at the White House. She was the first Black person to receive this honor.

She had been scheduled to sing at Washington's Constitution Hall, but the Daughters of the American Revolution (who managed the hall) refused to let her sing because she was Black. In response, Eleanor Roosevelt resigned from the DAR, and President Roosevelt gave permission for a concert at the Lincoln Memorial. On Easter Sunday, Anderson performed "My Country, 'Tis of Thee" to an audience of 75,000 people and a NBC radio audience of millions.

In 1941, she won the Edward Bok Award for distinguished service to the city of Philadelphia. And in 1955, she became the first African American to perform at the Metropolitan Opera.

In 1961, Anderson performed the national anthem at JFK’s inauguration. In 1963, JFK honored her with the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

Anderson retired from performing in 1965, but she was honored with the Grammy Award for Lifetime Achievement in 1991.

I’ll be back tomorrow with another illustration and story!

[toxic-ship-tournament]

ROUND 1 / SIDE B / POLL 4

Wren Blake x John Seed ( @nightwingshero ) vs Ludovica Rossi x Pier Lombardi ( @raybotonline )

Art by @beemot

who makes up your ship?:

Wren Blake and John Seed

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

Have tried to kill each other multiple times (she also spit in his face), banged it out, then tried to kill each other again. Have slit throats together, banged it out, then cut up some more people. They're Not The Drama. Wren killed John's sister and John kidnapped and tortured her friends because they got into a fight about Wren going to the Whitetails when called. Made out after. Literally obsessed with each other. Wren killed an ex lover of John's, John made sure she wasn't getting any anywhere else. He taught her how to kill, she taught him how to love...and to make people bleed more. Literally live in luxury and yummy foods while the sounds of the Resistance burning alive and dying are right outside. But Wren puts on some music and they dance, it's fine. They can't hear or see no evil. The Judge and the Baptist with their smiles and their bloodstained knives, how romantic. Also banged during the baptism.

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

x: two scales balanced or wren x john https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6H6tL7MUDRlCaFEIth5Hvm?si=482c7067815742df https://pin.it/2TfjqXu

****

who makes up your ship?:

Ludovica Rossi / Pier Lombardi

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

Well. Ludovica met Pier when the two of them were in college and they both hit it off quite well, but once they graduated and got married immediately after things started to go a bit downhill. You see, Ludovica, being an aspiring business owner, was never really in it for the love-- she was in it to make herself look good, and what looks better to the public than a woman in STEM who is still married and has a child while being the ever so responsible CEO of a robotics company? Over the 10 or so years they were together (6 of which they were married for) Ludovica grew to resent Pier and all of his shortcomings, but was at least happy he was easy to manipulate into doing whatever she wanted. After a while, she divorced Pier, but one condition set Pier off the deep end; he wasn't allowed to see his daughter Chiara ever again. This condition made Pier, for lack of better words, completely *snap*, and he ended up completely reprogramming one of HINTCORP's (the robotics company Ludovica owns and that Pier worked for) prototype assistance robots to be a killing machine, and attempted to murder Ludovica with it. He didn't succeed at all, and dissappeared completely after the murder attempt, leading everyone around him to assume he died-- in particular, Ludovica claimed to the press and the court that he had committed suicide after the fact. Pier is, of course, still alive, lurking the halls of the abandoned HINTCORP building like a ghost. For more information, here's their separate toyhouse pages-- Ludovica: https://toyhou.se/9741346.ludovica-rossi Pier: https://toyhou.se/9728723.pier-lombardi The image submitted is the two of them in their college years :-)

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1StZkXat6iCSVwpp1OLhAi?si=e69524c2cb65406b

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

30th August >> Fr. Martin's Reflections/Homilies on Today's Mass Readings for Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time (Inc. Matthew 25:1-13): ‘The bridegroom is here’.

Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA) Matthew 25:1-13 The wise and foolish virgins.

Jesus told this parable to his disciples: ‘The kingdom of heaven will be like this: Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were sensible: the foolish ones did take their lamps, but they brought no oil, whereas the sensible ones took flasks of oil as well as their lamps. The bridegroom was late, and they all grew drowsy and fell asleep. But at midnight there was a cry, “The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet him.” At this, all those bridesmaids woke up and trimmed their lamps, and the foolish ones said to the sensible ones, “Give us some of your oil: our lamps are going out.” But they replied, “There may not be enough for us and for you; you had better go to those who sell it and buy some for yourselves.” They had gone off to buy it when the bridegroom arrived. Those who were ready went in with him to the wedding hall and the door was closed. The other bridesmaids arrived later. “Lord, Lord,” they said “open the door for us.” But he replied, “I tell you solemnly, I do not know you.” So stay awake, because you do not know either the day or the hour.’

Gospel (USA) Matthew 25:1-13 Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!

Jesus told his disciples this parable: “The Kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise. The foolish ones, when taking their lamps, brought no oil with them, but the wise brought flasks of oil with their lamps. Since the bridegroom was long delayed, they all became drowsy and fell asleep. At midnight, there was a cry, ‘Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’ Then all those virgins got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise ones replied, ‘No, for there may not be enough for us and you. Go instead to the merchants and buy some for yourselves.’ While they went off to buy it, the bridegroom came and those who were ready went into the wedding feast with him. Then the door was locked. Afterwards the other virgins came and said, ‘Lord, Lord, open the door for us!’ But he said in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, I do not know you.’ Therefore, stay awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”

Reflections (13)

(i) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

The parable in today’s gospel reading speaks to us about the importance of being alert to the Lord’s coming. It is a call to be ready to welcome the Lord when he comes, whether it is his coming at the end of our lives, or his daily coming. In the gospels, Jesus once referred to himself as the bridegroom and John the Baptist spoke of himself as the friend of the bridegroom. We are all friends of the bridegroom, friends of the Lord, and he looks to us to be alert to his coming, whenever it happens and whatever form it takes. In the parable, the bridegroom’s coming was unexpected, much later than had been anticipated. Only some of the bridesmaids for ready for the unexpectedly late arrival of the bridegroom; they were prepared for the long haul, having brought sufficient oil with them. As a result they were able to have their welcoming lamps burning brightly when the bridegroom finally arrived. In the darkness, they were ready to light the way to the banqueting room for himself and his bride. We each carry within us a light, a flame that burns brightly. It is the light, the flame, of our faith. It is a flame that can be kept alive by our prayerful openness to the Holy Spirit and that finds expression in the loving service of others. We are called to keep that flame of faith burning within us, for the long haul. Saint Paul certainly kept that flame of faith burning to the end. He could write to Timothy, ‘I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith’. Just after children are baptized, the priest says to their parents and godparents, ‘These children have been enlightened by Christ… May they keep the flame of faith alive in their hearts. When the Lord comes, may they go out to meet him with all the saints in the heavenly kingdom’. If we can keep the flame of faith burning for the long haul, we will be ready to welcome both the Lord’s daily coming to us and his coming at the end of our lives. We will be ready when the call goes out, ‘The bridegroom is here’.

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(ii) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

It is lovely to be met by someone when we arrive home from a journey. To be met by a friendly face is all the more gratifying if our arrival has been delayed. Recognizing the hoped-for presence in the crowd, despite our very late arrival, makes us all the more appreciative of their coming. They have been faithful, in spite of the inconvenience of the unexpected delay. The bridegroom, in today’s parable, who turned up late must have been equally pleased to find that at least some of the bridesmaids were there to meet him with torches lit and to escort him to the wedding banquet, in spite of his late arrival and their long wait. After speaking the parable, Jesus turned to his disciples and said to them, ‘Stay awake, because you do not know either the day or the hour’. The Lord was calling on them to be faithful to him, especially during those times when he seemed absent and their expectations of him were not coming to pass. When the Lord calls us to be his followers, it is always for the long haul; he looks to us to keep our light burning right to the very end, through the good times and the bad times. Earlier in Matthew’s gospel Jesus had addressed his disciples as the light of the world and called on them to let their light shine so that people might see their good works and give glory to God for them. Keeping our lamp burning, letting our light shine to the end, amounts to doing the good works the Lord calls on us to do, for as long as we are able to do them, so that when he comes he will find us at our post, ready to welcome him.

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(iii) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus often spoke of the kingdom of God as a wedding feast. It connected in with the understanding of God as the bridegroom and of the people of God as God’s bride, which is often found in the books of the prophets. In the gospels Jesus is sometimes portrayed as the divine bridegroom; John the Baptist is described in the fourth gospel as the friend of the bridegroom. The parable Jesus speaks in this morning’s gospel reading is about the coming of the Lord, of the bridegroom, at the end of time, and the need to be ready for his coming. Of the five bridesmaids assigned to welcome the bridegroom, only five of them were ready with their torches lighting. The parable calls on all of us to keep our own torches lighting so that when the Lord comes at the end of our lives he will find us ready. What does it mean to keep our torches lighting? Earlier in Matthew’s gospel, at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus called on us to let our light shine by means of our good works, works of love, mercy and justice. This is what Paul refers to in the first reading as ‘the life that God wants’. It is the kind of life which will keep us ready at all times for the Lord’s coming.

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(iv) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

Many of us are fortunate to have so many good shops around us. If we run out of something we can go to the shops and purchase what we need. The parable in the gospel reading this morning speaks of five bridesmaids who discovered they had run out of oil for their lamps. However, they made this discovery too late. The bridegroom was on the point of arriving. They were at the shops when they should have been part of the procession leading the bride and the bridegroom to the bridegroom’s house for the wedding feast. In the parable the bridegroom is clearly a veiled reference to the Lord who, in the course of the gospels, speaks of himself as the bridegroom. The parable calls on us to have a good supply of oil at all times to keep our lamps burning because we do not know when the bridegroom will arrive. It is a call to faithfulness, to be at our post at all times. Earlier in Matthew’s gospel Jesus addresses his disciples as the light of the world. We are to keep that light burning brightly by our good works, by continuing to hear the word of the Lord and to keep it in our lives. That is the call that is addressed to us every day, and every day we try to respond to it so that whenever the Lord comes we are ready. When does the Lord come? He comes not just at the end of our lives but every day of our lives. At the end of Matthew’s gospel he says to his disciples, ‘I am with you always, to the end of the age’. We need to be ready every day.

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(v) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

The parable in this morning’s gospel reading reflects a marriage custom in the time of Jesus whereby bridesmaids waited at the bride’s house for the arrival of the bridegroom. When he arrives they go out to meet him with lighted torches and then they escort the bridegroom and his bride to the house of the bridegroom where the marriage feast is ready and the guests are waiting. What distinguishes the five bridesmaids who are described as ‘sensible’ from the other five is that, when the bridegroom arrived much later than expected, they had enough oil to ensure that their torches did not go out. They were able to welcome the bridegroom as was expected of them and escort him and his bride to the bridegroom’s house. In the gospels, Jesus refers to himself as the bridegroom. The parable encourages us to have our torches blazing brightly when the Lord comes to us, whenever that might be. Earlier in the gospel of Matthew, Jesus had said to his disciples, ‘You are the light of the world... let your light shine before others so that they may see your good works’. The parable could be calling on us to keep the light of our good works shining. We are not to allow that light to go out; we need to keep it burning for the long haul. We are to keep the flame of faith which shows itself in good works alive in our hearts to the very end. When the bridegroom, the Lord, comes at the end of time or at the end of our own earthly time, he will hope to see the flame of our loving faith burning brightly. The Lord who comes to us at the end is the Lord who is present to us now. If we are to welcome him with torches burning brightly at the end, we need to open ourselves to the oil of his presence now. We will stay the course only with the Lord’s help. We need to keep opening ourselves to the resource only he can give us if we are to reflect that light back to him at his final coming.

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(vi) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

One of the mottos of the scout movement is ‘Be prepared!’ Before they went hiking they had to make sure they had all they needed to meet with any unexpected eventuality that may arise. Five of the bridesmaids in this morning’s gospel reading wouldn’t have made good scouts. They weren’t prepared for the late arrival of the bridegroom and, as a result, their oil had run out and they couldn’t escort the bridegroom with their lighted torches as was expected of them. When the procession set off they were at the shops. By the time they arrived back, the moment had passed, the banquet had started and the big heavy doors of the banqueting room had already been locked and no one was going to open them for them. The parable calls on us to be ready with our lamps brightly burning whenever the Lord, the heavenly bridegroom, comes, whether that is at the end of time or at the end of our lives. Just after a child is baptized the godfather is invited to light the baptismal candle from the Easter candle and the priest says, ‘Parents and godparents, this light is entrusted to you to be kept burning brightly’. As the child becomes an adolescent, at the time of the Sacrament of Confirmation, he or she has to take responsibility to keep the light that has been entrusted to them burning brightly. The parable calls on us to keep this light of Christ, the light of faith, burning brightly, and not allow it to go out completely. Then whenever the Lord comes, be it early or late, we will be ready to welcome him, and the light of our faith will give way to the eternal light of the Lord’s presence.

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(vii) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

Behind today’s gospel reading is a marriage custom that we cannot be fully sure of today. The custom may have been for a group of unmarried young women to go to the family home of the bride on her wedding day and to wait with her for the bridegroom to arrive. When the bridegroom arrives, these women would go meet him with blazing torches. They would then accompany the bride and bridegroom to the bridegroom’s house for the celebratory meal, all the while holding their blazing torches aloft. In the story, five of the ten members of the welcoming group of women discovered too late that they did not bring enough oil to keep their lamps burning for the important role they were expected to play. By the time they bought the necessary oil, the welcoming procession was over, the meal had started and the heavy door of the banqueting room had been shut. In that culture, this would have been a very shameful experience for these women. It would have taken a while for them to live it down. The message of the parable is clear. We need to be ready to meet the Lord, the bridegroom, when he comes, whether that is at the end of time or at the end of our lives or, indeed, in the course of our daily lives. We need to keep the light of our faith burning. Earlier in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus called upon his disciples to let their light shine, the light of their faith, so that people could see their good works and give glory to the Father in heaven. We let the light of our faith shine when our faith expresses itself in good works, in works of loving service of others. Saint Paul in one of his letters speaks about faith expressing itself in love. This is the faith that burns brightly, and the parable assures us that such faith will leave us ready for the Lord’s coming whatever form that might take.

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(viii) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

It is lovely to be met by someone when we arrive home from a journey. To be met by a friendly face is all the more gratifying if our arrival has been delayed. The bridegroom, in today’s gospel reading, must have been pleased to find that at least some of the bridesmaids were there to meet and escort him to the wedding banquet, in spite of his very late arrival. The faithfulness of at least some of the bridesmaids was all the more appreciated, because it required foresight and attentiveness. We value faithfulness in others, especially when we know that it has cost them something. We appreciate it when people keep vigil for us, when not to do so would be very understandable. Having finished telling the parable of the ten bridesmaids, Jesus turned to his disciples and said to them, ‘Stay awake, because you do not know either the day or the hour’. He was calling on us to be faithful to him, to stay the course, no matter how long it is. When he addresses us as ‘the light of the world’, he looks to us to keep the flame of the gospel burning in our hearts and in our lives, so that the light of that flame is there to greet him, regardless of the lateness or strangeness of his coming to us. In the times in which we live, it can be a struggle to keep the flame of faith alive in our hearts. Like some of those in the gospel reading today, we may find ourselves crying, ‘Our lamps are going out’. Yet, the light of Lord’s presence in our lives does not grow dim. He remains faithful to us, to the end. His faithful presence to us will help us to keep the flame of our faith burning even when the times are dark.

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(ix) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

Today’s first reading is taken from Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians, which is the earliest Christian document to have come down to us, dated to about twenty years after the death and resurrection of Jesus. In that reading, Paul says, ‘What God wants is for you all to be holy’. How did Paul understand ‘holiness’? The end of that reading gives us a clue. Having declared, ‘We have been called by God to be holy’, he immediately goes on to speak of God ‘who gives you his Holy Spirit’. In other words, ‘holiness’ for Paul is a life that is shaped by the Holy Spirit, a life that is rich in what he calls elsewhere ‘the fruit of the Spirit’. You are probably familiar with Paul’s portrayal of the fruit of the Spirit, ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, and self-control’. This is Paul’s depiction of a holy life, a life lived according to the Holy Spirit. This is our baptismal calling, which flows from our baptismal identity, our Spirit-shaped identity. The parable that Jesus spoke in today’s gospel reading contrasts those bridesmaids who were ready to welcome the bridegroom with their lamps burning and those who were not. To the extent that we allow the Spirit to shape our lives, to bear fruit in our lives, we will be standing reading with lamps burning to welcome the Lord, the bridegroom, whenever he comes. He comes at the end of our lives but also in the course of our daily lives. In all the ways he comes to us, he will be hoping to find that our lives are burning brightly with the flame of the Spirit.

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(x) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

I am often struck by that line in today’s gospel reading, ‘The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet him’. In the parable the bridegroom’s coming had been delayed. Only some of the bridesmaids had enough oil to light their lamps and greet him, in spite of his unexpected delay. They alone were ready to escort him through the darkness with their lamps alight towards the bride’s house. These wise bridesmaids, as they are called, were ready for a possible late arrival of the bridegroom; they had prepared themselves for the long haul. To each of us it could be said, ‘The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet him’. The bridegroom is the Lord. In the gospels Jesus spoke of himself as the bridegroom; in and through him, God was renewing the marriage covenant with his people. Every day of our lives the Lord is here, and every day we are invited to go out and meet him. We are called each day of our lives to welcome the Lord’s coming to us, even when his coming is late and unexpected, even though he may come to us in ways that seem strange or foolish from a human point of view. As Paul says in today’s first reading, God’s wisdom is often experienced as foolishness to humans. We are to welcome the Lord each day with our lamps burning, with the flame of faith and the fire of love alive in our hearts. The Lord’s coming to us each day is assured and he looks to us for a faithful and reliable response to his coming. The Lord is here for us, and he asks us to be there for him, like the wise bridesmaids. Like them, we need to be there for him for the long haul. Even when the Lord seems absent, we need to keep the flame of our faith and the fire of our love brightly burning. We can be tempted to give up on the Lord, like the foolish bridesmaids, perhaps thinking he has given up on us. The Lord never gives up on us; he is faithful to us, to the end, and he looks for the same faithfulness in us.

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(xi) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

In today’s parable one group of bridesmaids say to the other group, ‘Our lamps are going out’. Perhaps we can all feel as if our lamps are going out from time to time. The flame of our faith is just about flickering. On one occasion, Jesus spoke about the ‘smouldering wick’. He identified himself with the servant in the prophet Isaiah who did not ‘quench the smouldering wick’. Jesus came to fan people’s faith into a living flame. In his second letter to Timothy, Paul calls on him to ‘rekindle the gift of God that is within you’. Our faith and the love that flows from it needs rekindling, fanning into a living flame, from time to time. Who does that rekindling, that fanning? It is only the Lord who can do it through the Holy Spirit. That is why I like the prayer to the Holy Spirit, ‘Come Holy Spirit, fill my heart and kindle in me the fire of your love’. We could also ask the Holy Spirit to rekindle in us the flame of our faith as well as the fire of his love in our lives. Authentic faith is always a faith that expressed itself in love. In the gospel reading, five of the bridesmaids were not prepared for the delay of the bridegroom; they turned to the other five and said ‘Our lamps are going out’. They couldn’t stay the course when the course turned out to be longer than expected. The Lord looks to us to stay the course, to finish the race, to keep the flame of faith and the fire of love burning brightly within us, to the very end of our lives. If that is to happen we need to keep turning to the Lord and the Holy Spirit who will see to it that we reach the goal of our life journey with our lamps burning brightly.

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(xii) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

It seems that in the time of Jesus young unmarried women waited with the bride at her family home for the arrival of the bridegroom. Then when he arrived they would escort the couple with lighted lamps to the house of the bridegroom where the marriage feast had been prepared and the guests were waiting for the couple’s grand entry. It was an important task for these bridesmaids to accompany the couple and to guide them through the darkness with lamps burning brightly. It would have been very embarrassing if they didn’t have enough oil to keep their lamps lighting for the length of the procession to the house of the bridegroom. In the parable, five of the ten bridesmaids discovered at the last moment that they didn’t have enough oil for their role of accompanying the married couple. ‘Our lamps are going out’, they cried. Jesus may be saying to us that we need to keep the lamp, the flame, of our faith burning brightly to the very end, and not allow it to go out. At the baptism of a child, when the godfather lights the baptismal candle from the Paschal candle, the priest says to the parents of the child, ‘keep the flame of faith alive in his/her heart’. That is our baptismal calling, to keep the flame of faith alive in our hearts and to allow our faith to show itself in the loving service of others. Elsewhere in the gospel of Matthew, Jesus says to his disciples, to us all, ‘You are the light of the world… let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven’. We are called to let the light of the gospel shine through us, for the long haul, and to do that we will always need the help of the Holy Spirit, who kindles in us the fire, the flame, of loving faith.

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(xiii) Friday, Twenty First Week in Ordinary Time

In today’s first reading, Paul reminds us of our baptismal calling, which is ‘to be holy’. He describes a holy life as living ‘the life that God wants’. Paul also says that God gives us his Holy Spirit to enable us to live holy lives. In that sense, a holy life is a life that is shaped by the Holy Spirit, a life in which the Holy Spirit bears fruit. In another of his letters Paul portrays the fruit of the Holy Spirit as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Holiness finds expression in these qualities. It is significant that ‘love’ appears first in that portrayal of the fruit of the spirit. The other qualities are various ways love is revealed, such as patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. The Holy Spirit that has been poured into our hearts is the Spirit of God’s love, and these are all outward expressions of that Spirit. The expression of love that is highlighted in today’s gospel reading is faithfulness. Only five of the ten bridegrooms were faithful to the bridegroom and his bride. They were there with their lamps burning brightly when the bridegroom arrived at the bride’s home, ready to accompany them both to the house of the bridegroom, where the marriage feast had been prepared and the guests were waiting. They faithfully kept watch with their lamps alight, even though the bridegroom was late arriving. Our love for the Lord shows itself in being faithful to him, even during those dark hours when he seems absent and we wonder where he is to be found. Our love for others also expresses itself in a readiness to be faithful to them, in some way, even when they keep us waiting and let us down.

Fr. Martin Hogan.