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lilacmoon83 · 4 years ago

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Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 13: Family Bond

"You don't understand...my sister was always horrible to me! She pushed me around and she never deserved Jacob," Clorinda cried. At first, when she had been arrested for being in possession of Tisbe's missing necklace, she had been silent until Killian pressed her about how her sister was determined to save her husband's employees from his blackmail and extortion. Clorinda immediately had jumped in to defend Jacob and went off on her sister.

"When the plane disappeared, I didn't cry one tear! Jacob and I were happy and then she just waltzes back in like nothing had changed!" Clorinda confessed.

"Did Jacob tell her that he wanted a divorce?" Killian asked.

"N...no, because she was crazy and knew about his problems with his employees," Clorinda replied.

"You mean how he was extorting money from them through blackmail?" Killian asked, making her wince.

"He's not a bad man...he's not," she pleaded.

"It kind of sounds like he was content to still be married to Tisbe and have you on the side," Killian replied.

"It's not like that! He loves me! He hated that Tisbe came back!" she insisted.

"So...you killed her," Killian deduced. A tear slipped down her cheek.

"She was dead anyway! Whoever came back was not my sister!" she spat. At that point, her lawyer arrived and shut down the interrogation. Not that it mattered much. The district attorney would have enough to convict and a jury would likely see it that way as well.

Killian sighed, as he came out of the interrogation room where Emma stood waiting.

"Well...she confessed when we pressed her about the necklace. She and Jacob fell in love while she was gone, but apparently Tisbe was having none of that," he said.

"So she shot her," Emma deduced.

"Most likely…" he said, as he looked at her.

"What?" she asked.

"It's just...you found those girls and now you happened to run right into Clorinda out on the streets," he replied. She gave him a withering look.

"I told you that I was looking for Lily's father. He was lost and confused and I found him," she replied.

"And it just happened to be Clorinda that almost ran him over," Killian said.

"What are you asking me?" she questioned. He shrugged.

"Clorinda said that her sister was a different person when she came back...and I would have to say the same about you," he mentioned.

"Look…I can't explain what happened to us. Something happened, but I don't know what. I'm not doing any of this...it's just happening," she said. He nodded, as he watched her go. He pulled Vance's card from his pocket. He would definitely want to know about this development, but despite seemingly having inside information from some source, he knew that Emma didn't have sinister intentions. He tore up Vance's card and tossed it in the trash. He didn't work for the NSA and certainly wasn't going to spy on Emma for them.

~*~

Emma unlocked Walsh's cell and let him out.

"Clorinda Taylor killed her sister, so you're free to go," Emma said.

"Yes...and in the process, I see you have owned your truth and accepted your place among the returned," Walsh praised. She sighed.

"No, I did my job and found the real killer. There's nothing special about me," she refuted.

"That's where you're wrong...and you know it. You've been reborn and you are enlightened. The rest of us can only dream of being one of the returned," he said.

"You can pick your things up at the desk," Emma said, as she left to go home and get some sleep. David had roped her into going to some dinner at Leopold Blanchard's house of all places tomorrow night. She had agreed, only on the chance that he really was up to no good and if he had Margaret in his sights again, Emma was going to be there to protect her family.

~*~

The next day, Margaret was practically giddy, as she packed a picnic basket full of sandwiches, fruits and veggies, chips, and cookies. It was their first Saturday together as a family and they planned to make the most of it. They were going to the park. The same park that was near the playground where they had met as children and near the woods where there was a bridge they used to frequent as well. It was a very special place for her and David. The small, rickety wooden bridge was where they had shared their first kiss, where they declared their love for each other, and even where he had proposed.

After the plane disappeared and on the one year anniversary of the disappearance, Margaret had gone there, but it had been too painful. She had been a mess and cried for hours sitting alone on that bridge. After that, she never went back and thought she never would again. But then the plane came back and gave everything back to her as quickly as it had taken it away.

"Come on you two...let's go," she called, as she closed the picnic basket and David picked it up for her.

"Wow...this thing weighs a ton. Did you invite an army to our picnic?" he teased and she kissed him tenderly.

"No...it's just us. Guess I did get a little carried away," she winced, but he smiled and kissed her again.

"I love that you get carried away," he said fondly.

"I...I just thought we'd never have a family picnic again. It doesn't seem like much...but I will never take it for granted again," she replied. He smiled.

"Neither will I," he said, as the kids hurried into the kitchen.

"Can we stop and get some kites?" Henry asked.

"Sure...that sounds like a lot of fun," David answered, as he carried the basket out. Margaret grabbed her keys and stepped out the door, only to find a couple of their neighbors there.

"Oh, Marcus and Cecelia...good to see you," she said.

"We just came over to check on you and make sure you're okay, you know with everything that's happened," the woman mentioned. Margaret beamed a smile.

"Everything is wonderful, but thank you," she replied.

"You're sure?" Marcus asked skeptically.

"Of course...I just got the love of my life back and my son. Why wouldn't things be okay?" she asked.

"Um...well, we have just heard that some of the people on that plane have come back...different," Ceceila mentioned.

"Yes...and we just wanted to make sure things are okay for you and Olive," Marcus added. Margaret wanted to think that their concern was real and she knew part of it probably was. They had always been nice, albeit a bit nosy and they had fallen on hard times in the last year. She suspected that the news vans that were still parked near the house had questioned them about any dirt they might have about them.

"I have my true love back and my son. The man I married is the man that returned to me, you can be assured of that," she said shortly.

"We're...we're sorry if we offended you," Marcus replied, a bit ashamed.

"I'm sure whatever payday the news station offered you is tempting and I can't tell you not to take it. So...whatever juicy lie you need to come up with to get your money makes no difference to me, because I know the truth and that is that my husband and I just got a second chance. My son's cancer now has a viable treatment and it's nothing short of a miracle. If that story doesn't work for them, then feel free to come up with something that will sell some newspapers," she said, as she walked toward the car.

"Everything okay?" David asked, as he shut the trunk and she kissed him.

"Everything is wonderful...just nosy neighbors," she replied.

"Ah...wondering if I'm an alien," he deduced, as he surprised her and kissed her passionately, while gently pushing her against the car. She lost herself in his kiss and slid her arms around his neck, as they enjoyed a mini makeout session.

"Might as well give them all something to gawk at," he said and she smiled, before they got into the car.

"Finally…I thought you guys were gonna make out all day," Olive complained without looking up from her phone. They chuckled.

"Just giving the reporters something to look at," he teased.

"Why would they want to look at you kissing Mom?" Henry asked.

"Because they think we're...different now," David replied. Neither he nor Margaret saw a reason to hide things from Henry. It was important that he knew to be leery of people now with everything that had happened.

"Like that weird lady?" he asked.

"Yes...though I think she thought we were good. I'm afraid there are going to be those that think we are now something sinister," Margaret warned him truthfully.

"I get it...but it's kind of dumb," Henry said bluntly. David chuckled, as he backed out of the driveway and they drove away.

"We agree, buddy, but some people don't understand and don't like people that are different. It's unfortunate and sometimes makes people do bad things. It's important that you are both careful and that you don't go places alone for a while," he advised, though most of that was directed at Olive, as they wouldn't let Henry go anywhere alone at his age even under normal circumstances.

"Is that why Leopold wants us to come now? You think it's a way to get himself in the news?" Olive asked. David and Margaret exchanged a glance. As usual, their daughter was sharp as a tack.

"Knowing him...probably, which is why we're going to his house for dinner. I'm giving him one more chance to not be a terrible person, but if he's got some sort of plan to make a spectacle of your father and your brother, then they're going to get a spectacle from me, but it won't exactly be what he wants," Margaret promised. David smirked at that.

"But enough of that. This is a family day and we're not going to let some nosy reporters spoil our day," Margaret said.

"Your mother is right...let's get those kites," he replied, as they were on their way.

~*~

Regina looked in the microscope again and then sighed. She didn't know why she kept looking. It wasn't going to change the results of what she had found. She, David, and Henry all had the protein in their blood. Then the results of her MRI were clear. Ischemic stroke. There was no getting around the correlation. It was entirely possible that this protein was connected to Ischemic stroke, which she needed to explain to David and Margaret. As she was about to call them, she saw her mother come in and sighed.

"Mother…I told you I would be there tonight," Regina said in annoyance.

"I know...I was just hoping you'd let me take you shopping for a dress. I know you're having to replace all your things," Cora said.

"Because you made Daddy donate all my stuff," she muttered.

"Believe it or not...we did that, because we were trying to move on," Cora said. Regina sighed.

"I know...I don't blame you for that," she replied.

"What has you so stressed?" Cora inquired.

"It's just...a patient. We can go," Regina said, as she removed her lab coat. It was Saturday, after all and she decided that this could probably wait. She would tell them when Henry came in for his treatment on Monday. She was still waiting to hear about Tisbe Taylor's body and if she could participate in the autopsy. Getting a look at a passenger brain could be really the only way to know what they were dealing with for sure. Cora smiled at her and they left.

~*~

Emma took a deep breath and knocked on Mal's door. She opened it and actually had a smile for the other woman.

"Emma...come in, please," she said.

"I just wanted to stop by and check on Zoran. How is he?" she asked.

"He's okay. He doesn't really remember yesterday at all and I think this time, it's better that way," Mal replied. She nodded in agreement.

"Listen Emma...I want you to know that I am really grateful for what you did last night. Zoran could have been killed if you hadn't found him," Mal said.

"I'm just glad I got there in time," Emma replied, as she sat down.

"I read the headlines. Looks like you also found a killer last night as well," Mal said.

"Uh yeah...dumb luck that the person that almost hit Zoran just happened to be the killer in an active investigation," Emma replied. Mal gave her a look.

"Emma...coincidences like that don't happen, even for a cop as good as you," she said. Emma sighed.

"You're different since you came back...make sure you use this second chance to make a difference," Mal advised. Emma nodded.

"I will," she promised, as Zoran came into the room.

"Oh, we have company," he said, as the two women exchanged a look.

"Yeah...I'm Emma. I'm a friend of Lily's," she said, as they shook hands.

"Oh...it's nice to meet you. Lily should be home soon," he said.

"Yes...maybe we can have some tea while we wait and get to know you," Mal suggested, as she went to the kitchen. Emma smiled and nodded. In Lily's absence, if she could bring them both just a little comfort in these sad times, then she wanted to do that for her best friend.

~*~

"Okay...go!" David said, as he handed the kite reel to his son and the wind caught it. Henry ran through the park with it and Olive followed him closely, while David and Margaret watched on fondly.

"It's okay...I can watch him. We're close to the bridge if you two want to take a walk," Olive told them.

"Are you sure?" Margaret asked.

"Course...the kid and I are fine," Olive replied.

"You know, it's not fair. I was born first and used to be older than you," Henry complained. She smirked.

"And now I get to be the boss of you, haha," she teased. David smiled.

"Okay...we won't be far," he said, as he joined hands with his wife and they strolled off.

"Good call," they heard Henry say.

"It's either that or we have to watch them make out again and no one wants that," they heard Olive say. They grinned at each other.

"She sounds just like Emma," he mentioned.

"Oh I know," she agreed, as they made their way to the bridge and the memories called to them.

~*~

7th Grade - 1992

David and Margaret sat on the bridge together with their heads resting against each other's. They both had been crying, which was understandable, since they had buried David's mother today.

"I miss her," Margaret said. He sniffed.

"Me too...but I know this would be a thousand times harder without you," he replied, making her blush slightly. She took his hand though and he looked at her, swallowing thickly. She was so beautiful.

"I...I know they tell us that we're too young to know what real love is, but they're wrong," he said. She smiled.

"They are," she agreed.

"I love you, MM...I have since the moment we met," he admitted, bringing tears to her eyes.

"Oh David...I love you too," she gushed. Her heart quickened, as he slowly leaned in and she closed her eyes. He pressed his lips softly to hers in a short, tender kiss. Margaret felt her heart flutter and butterflies in her stomach. Their lips parted and her eyes opened, meeting his and they shared a smile. Ruth was gone and his father had fallen off the wagon, but he knew he was going to make it, because he had her. He offered his hand to her and she took it, as they started for home. From now on, it was just them and Emma against the world.

~*~

"That day seems like so long ago…" he mentioned, as they smiled at the memory.

"You didn't even really ask me to officially be your girlfriend that day, but I just knew that's what we were," she replied.

"Officially, but I wanted you to be mine the moment I helped you cross the monkey bars when we were eight," he said. She giggled.

"I know, you picked snowdrops out of my mother's garden the next day and came to the door with them, roots and all," she said, as they laughed at the memory.

"My mother thought it was too adorable to scold you," she recalled.

"I couldn't help it. I knew you were a princess and I wanted to be your prince," he said.

"And you have been since," she replied, as he kissed her hand, admiring his mother's ring on her finger.

"I remember the night you put this on my finger too…" she said.

"We got a lot of dirty looks from people after that, considering we were only sixteen," he replied.

"And we couldn't have cared less. That night was amazing. You put your mother's ring on my finger and we made love for the first time that night," she recalled.

~*~

1996

"I can't believe he did that," Margaret lamented, as they walked to the bridge after school, hand in hand.

"I know...seeing you be pushed into the back of that car terrified me. I wondered for a minute if I'd ever see you again," he confessed, as they stopped on the bridge and only the sound of the babbling creek beneath them filled the air. He fidgeted with his mother's ring that was in his pocket nervously. She had left it to him with the instructions that he was to give it to the woman he wanted to marry and somehow, he knew his mother probably knew he would one day put it on Margaret's finger.

"Oh David...I was scared too. The thought of never seeing you again...it broke me a little," she said, as he took her in his arms and they kissed passionately. They may have only been sixteen, but that didn't mean their love wasn't real, despite what people thought.

"Then I hope you don't think I'm crazy with what I'm about to do," he said and she gasped, as he got down on one knee.

"I know we can't get married until we're adults and even if we get engaged now, we have to keep it secret," he said.

"But I'm okay with that...and I know we're young, but I want to marry you someday," he continued.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, as he presented the ring to her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffed.

"What do you think?" she asked rhetorically, as she held out her hand and he slipped the ring on her finger. He stood up and they shared another passionate kiss.

"Come on...let's go home," she said, as they joined hands and walked home.

~*~

"Yeah...what a night," he recalled, as he was remembering that first night of passion.

"I know…" she gushed, as she slipped her arms around his waist and he kissed her hair.

"Are you sure you want to go tonight? I know how many bad memories your father brings up," he said, a little worried about her. She nodded.

"He does...but I need to know what he's up to. Call me crazy...but I just have this feeling that there is a reason we need to go," she replied.

"I would never call you crazy and have always trusted your instincts. Besides, I'm the one that hears voices in his head now," he joked.

"You're not crazy either...that voice saved two little girls. That voice might be the reason you and Henry came back to me," she reminded him. He smiled at her and kissed her again.

"Come on, we should get home and get ready for the dinner party," he suggested. She nodded and hugged his arm, as they walked back to get their kids. Whatever the evening held for them, they knew they would do whatever necessary to keep their family safe.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Emma Swan #Henry #Regina Mills #AU #Manifest #with a Once twist #romance #adventure #mystery #family #angst #Lightning in a Bottle

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biowareaspirant-blog · 8 years ago

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Revelation

A Ryder x Jaal fanfiction

Fandom: Mass Effect: Andromeda Pairing: F!Ryder x Jaal Tags: Depression, cuddling, sadness, spoilers A/N: I was a little upset that Ryder didn’t experience more emotion or anxiety over the fact that everything she knew was possibly gone back in the Milky Way. That she was among the few that stood between the extinction of multiple species trying to make a home in Andromeda. I know she is a PC, and we’re supposed to control her, but you’d think there would be more opportunity to display the emotion necessary to portray just how heavy that kind of burden is. And considering how many losses a few arks took prior to finding their way to the Nexus, the stress of that fact should have gotten even heavier. So I guess this is my little mini-fic trying to remedy that slight story oversight. Enjoy!

The usefulness of Sara's thoughts had long since evaporated, yet her mind churned on in the darkness of her room where she sat cross-legged upon the stainless white silken blanket. Not long ago she had been afraid of wrinkling the fabric or staining it with something unnoticed on her pants. Now, she merely stroked the irresistably soft material reverently as she stared out into the great ocean of black abyss filled with glimmering stars. The ship was still, filled with silent workers and heavy dreamers.

Music hummed gently just beyond the boundaries of her attention, where her mind had been claimed by the temptation of freedom. Freedom to roam without fear of getting lost, for all it took to bring her back was the loud knock upon the metal door to her quarters. "Sara? Are you asleep?" Her heart leapt. It was Jaal, she would know that deep voice anywhere. She lifted herself from the bed, walking over to the switch by the door to let him in but paused when she felt a sudden wetness trailing down her cheek. Her fingers touched it hesitantly. They were the beginnings of the tears she had fought to hide. She had held them back for too long, and now they threatened to spill over. "Sara?" Sara wiped the tears away with the arm of her sleeve, "I'm coming, Jaal. One second."

With a gentle hush, the door opened to reveal Jaal's large, colorful form. Colorful even in the dark, but what caught Sara's gaze most was Jaal's liquid blue eyes full of concern for her. "I... received a message from SAM," Jaal explained, "that you might need me. Is everything alright?" "SAM?" Suddenly, SAM's synthetic tone cut through the softly playing music, "Forgive me, Pathfinder, but I found a decrease in serotonin and norepinephrine in your system. Typical in humans experiencing depression." "And you sent Jaal here to help with that?" "There is no denying that the two of you share a bond unique from any others on the Tempest crew, and his presence has been a comfort to you before, Pathfinder." That was when Jaal pulled Sara further into the room, the door hushing closed behind them. He collected both of her hands in his, and Sara looked into his beautiful liquid blue eyes. His eyes were so different in moments like these, more soft than she knew eyes ever could be. The professional resistance fighter was gone and instead it was the eyes of the one who loved her deeply. If it had been anyone else, Sara would have dropped her gaze in embarrassment, but with Jaal she was drawn in closer, always wanting more of him. "Sara, please," he began to say the words she needed to hear, "if something is hurting you, I would rather share in that burden than leave you to suffer alone." The smooth, gentle timbre of his voice washed over her, soothing the parts of her that ached like the medicine she had so desperately needed. In that moment, the dam she had built up before suddenly burst and tears sprang to her eyes, spilling down her face. She could feel the muscles of her chin tremble like that of a small child. And Jaal understood, pulling her against himself where she sobbed into his chest unceasingly, hands clutching at his rofjinn. He held her in silence, swaying with her gently as her tears soaked his chest. A tiny lapse allowed her to pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears. Reassuring, gentle hands guided Sara to the bed where they sat side by side. Sara bit her lip, eyes everywhere but on Jaal. Then he moved closer with those eyes that looked so deeply into her own, "My darling one, tell me what troubles you." Her breathing softened as his pensive look melted into a smile as soft as the morning light. Her body squirmed slightly as her muscles relaxed. There was something about that gaze of his she'd never find in any other man, as if in that moment he had forged a bridge between their hearts and souls. And in that moment, Sara believed for just a few seconds in the existence of soul mates. With a shaky breath she began to explain, "I saw the last of my dad's memories, Jaal. There were... transmissions and talk of our galaxy being attacked by something we thought was just a myth, but... they really attacked." More tears fell with her last words, and she sighed. Jaal raised a hand, ghostly in that silvery darkness, and wiped the tears pouring from her eyes. "And so the home you came from is gone?" Sara nodded, "Yeah, everything I've known could be gone. Earth, The Citadel where I grew up, Palaven, Thessia... all of it. And everyone here could be the last of their species." "And so the burden has grown heavy on you." "Yeah," she rested her head on his broad shoulder, "I'm not sure how I'm going to handle it, Jaal. Finding everyone a home was one thing, but now... the possible extinction of whole species weighs on my shoulders." Jaal shifted to face her as Sara lifted her head. He took her face in his hands, and once again she stared into those Azure darts - sharp yet still so full of his compassion and love for her. "You are the strongest I know, so full of fire and life." He said reassuringly, "You will find a way to succeed, as you always have. And when you grow weary and your troubles grow too much for you to bear, you can talk to me as you are now. Never forget you are not alone." Sara felt her lips twist upward into a smile, the first one she had given sincerely since she had seen her father's memories. She felt relief wash over her like a torrential wave as she sighed. "Now," Jaal said with finality as he stood, "lay down and get some sleep." Sara crawled onto her bed reluctantly, pressing her cheek into the cool velvet-soft pillows. She looked up at Jaal who still stood over her and asked before she could stop herself, "Lay with me?" Jaal's eyes widened with his surprise, but that surprise quickly melted into a smile as he wordlessly lay himself flat upon the mattress beside her. Sara moved closer, resting her head on his chest as his warm hand stroked the length of her back comfortingly. Sara lay there and let the happiness of the moment soak right into her bones. She wanted the feeling to still be there when she woke up. She closed her eyes and savoured the moment, listening to the steady rhythm of Jaal's heart as she gently drifted into dreams.

#Fanfiction #Mass Effect: Andromeda #ME:A #me:a spoilers #Jaal x Ryder

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unchartedtravel-blog1 · 7 years ago

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40 Things You Should Know About London

By Bobby

1. They drive on the wrong side of the road.

2. They curse. A lot.

3. They have more of a mixed racial population than I’ve ever seen before! Italians, the Dutch, Germans, Portuguese, Spaniards, the French, Thai, Indians, Chinese, and Japanese. While perusing the roads of London, I think at times I heard more different languages spoken than I heard English!

4. London. Is. Hot. (at least for the 10 days I was there). Londoners don’t really wear shorts – it’s usually the Americans that you see wearing them. As a tourist, from all the walking, you’ll want to dress lightly, but at the same time appropriately. Be careful with layers. Just saying. It’s a hot city.

5. Speaking of which, air conditioning seems to be rare. Your only options for A/C are modern (AND I STRESS THAT) hotels, restaurants and cafes, and museums.

6. Trafalgar Square. It’s pronounced “Truh-FAL-guh” with emphasis on the “FAL”.

7. Traffic is scary. Be careful of the fast cars in narrow streets, the double-decker buses, and bicyclists! My first few days, I was almost hit by double-decker buses 10 times. Traffic is crazy, they drive aggressively, and they drive on the wrong side of the road. Add all those together, and you have a disaster for Americans.

8. When crossing the road, LOOK RIGHT, THEN LEFT. Because of #7.

9. Use the Barclay Bikes. Use them use them use them. They are all throughout the city available for rental with over 500 bike stations. Not only are there plenty of them, but they are very affordable. Just be careful, and make sure you use the bike lanes and understand the traffic laws. It gets quite scary at times when you have cars zooming past you just inches away from your bike.

10. London Bridge is Falling Down. This is not the bridge you are picturing right now. That bridge is actually called “Tower Bridge”. London Bridge is quite plain looking, and is one bridge over from Tower Bridge. Speaking of bridges, you should spend a morning and walk up and down each of the bridges over the River Thames. There are great views of London from these bridges!

11. “Cheers Mate” means “Thanks, friend!” Use it! It will make you feel AWESOME when you use it. I know I did.

12. Gloucester and Leicester. DO NOT SAY “Glau-ses-ter” or “Lay-ses-ter”. It’s pronounced “Gloh-stuh” and “Lee-stuh”. Yes, it’s pronounced like that.

13. YOU CAN DRINK ALCOHOL IN PUBLIC! Yes! It’s true! Meal idea: get a sandwich, beer, and crisps, find the nearest park, or find a place along the Thames, and enjoy your meal there! Be careful though, in the City of Westminster it isn’t allowed. Westminster is inside of London.

14. The zig-zag lines in the road mean something. I’m not sure what they mean, but they mean something. What I do know is that the black cabs are not allowed to pull over on a zig-zag line.

15. Speaking of roads, the traffic lights are different. They change from red to yellow to green to red.

16. The London Tube is the underground rail system in London. It’s an easy system to get used to and if you’re in London for a week, I recommend buying a 6-day Travelers Card to use on the Tube for £35 British Pounds.

17. Be ready to see Maserati, Bentley, BMW, Mercedes, Porsche, Ferrari, and Aston Martin. Those high-end vehicles are a common sight around London. I giggle with glee every time I see one of those beautiful creations driving down the roads.

18. London has a depressing past, and is basically built on top of a massive grave-site. The city was almost destroyed three times. First time was the infamous Great or Bubonic Plague, second time was the Great Fire of London in 1666, and the third was the Blitz, or the Bombings of London by Germany in WWII. Thus you will see a wonderful mix of architectural styles, and at times one on building! Oh, on some of the underground rail routes, you feel the trains take a sharp turn. These are due to the bodies buried compactly together, and the engineers couldn’t remove the bodies for worries of the road and buildings collapsing above the ground. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

19. Double-decker buses are awesome. They’re awesome because they’re a constant reminder that “Hey, I’m in London.”

20. There is no real “British Accent”. You can probably just make one up, and the Brits will just assume you’re from another part of the Kingdom. You’ve got the Australian accent, New Zealand (and Kiwi) accent, South African accent, British-Indian accent, Irish accent, Northern Irish accent, South English, London English, the Queen’s English, RP English, Posh English, Cockney accent, Manchester accent, Coventry accent, Welsh accent, Scottish accent, and so many more. And don’t speak with a posh, or RP accent. It’s usually spoken by the older generation. In fact, QEII uses her own accent called the Queen’s English which is still somewhat posh.

21. British food is…unique. I’d recommend trying out the vast choices of ethnic foods around the city. Indian, Thai, Korean, Chinese, and Italian are always great places to try.

22. Speaking of British food…they like to put sausage in EVERYTHING. Everywhere you go, sausages are on the menu. I guess it’s a good thing if you like sausages for breakfast, but for lunch and dinner as well?

23. Lemonade in the UK. It’s basically Sprite or Schweppes.

24. Museums. London is filled with museums. You’ve got the British Museum (where I spent 4 long hours), Imperial War Museum, Natural History Museum, Tate Modern, Tate Britain, Greenwich Visitor Centre, Tower of London, London Transport Museum, Museum of London, National Gallery, Victoria and Albert Museum, are among the best! But don’t visit all of them – you’ll start to hate the museums, and it will be an expensive vacation if you do visit them all.

25. Castles/Palaces. Being a European city, there are plenty of castles to visit. Some of the more popular castles and palaces are Buckingham Palace, Tower of London, Clarence House, Windsor Castle, Hampton Court Palace, and Kensington Palace. Pick and choose, pick and choose.

26. The Globe Theatre. It’s not the original.

27. Dining in is expensive. However, there are plenty of affordable options when it comes to restaurants in London. Chinatown/SOHO is one place to find those options (just don’t stay there past 9pm). Also, unlike the U.S., servers in London will not do anything for you other than bring your food, beverage, and check. In the U.S., servers can get quite annoying when checking up on you every 5 minutes. I prefer the London way. Just leave me alone and let me dine.

28. I hate the £1 coin, and so will you. British money makes just as little sense as U.S. currency. The 2 pence coin is larger than the 20 pence, 5 pence, ten pence, and 1 pound coin. Also, what is up with the £1 pound coin. In the UK, you’ll weigh 5lbs more with pockets and wallets full of those annoying £1 coins. On the plus side, if you collect each newly design coin, you can make this: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/a8/New_British_Coinage_2008.jpg

29. I highly recommend taking a historic tour. Do it. You will not regret it, and it will be well worth the money. At least take a “Ghost Bus” tour: http://www.theghostbustours.com/

30. Houses of Parliament. No matter how many times you’ve seen the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, St. Paul’s Cathedral, or any other popular attraction in London, it is just as breathtaking as the first time you see them.

31. The River Thames. Not the Thames River. And another pronunciation blunder: it’s “Temz”…silly Brits.

32. The rats own the city at night. And they’re not afraid of humans. I don’t mind a rat, but when they’re in groups, I squeal and flail my arms running away.

33. Tea is like water. The Brits will drink tea even on a hot summer day of 80F.

34. The Queen. The day I arrived in London, she left for Belmoral Castle. And the day I arrived back home in the U.S., she returned back to Buckingham Palace. There went my chance of high-fiving Her Majesty. Anyway, see if you can get a tour of Buckingham Palace, and maybe you’ll spot QEII and can take a selfie!

35. Nothing is FREE in London. Nothing.

36. Bacon. Delicious, crispy, greasy bacon. Unfortunately, bacon as we know it here is not the same in the UK. Over there, “bacon” is what we would call ham in the US. And it’s very salty too.

37. Black Cabs. They’ll rip you off if you’re not careful. Find the right one, get his card, and use his cab to get around the city . Great thing about the Black Cabs, is how spacious they are! They’re like mini limousines! But don’t take a Black Cab. Take the Tube. Or rent a Barclay Bike….or walk.

38. Staying hydrated will cost you! Water in London is more expensive than carbonated drinks. Find ways to refill your bottle for free. (Drinking fountains [be cautious], in a cafe, or at your hotel)

39. The entire city has WIFI!…but you have to pay for it…and it’s really slow. If it says it’s free, then it means it’s terribly slow. Just go find a McDonald’s or Starbucks and you’ll be fine.

40. The United Kingdom has five main train companies. Among them Virgin Trains which is a great choice! I took Virgin Trains from London to Coventry in First Class, and it was great! Snacks, drinks, and a comfortable ride.

#london #travel

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juliandmouton30 · 7 years ago

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"Architecture as intellectual inquiry needs to take more risks"

The second Chicago Architecture Biennial tackles the broad and tempestuous topic of history, but plays it too safe, says Mimi Zeiger in this Opinion column.

I'm not going to define history. No matter how heavily that word weighs on the Chicago Architecture Biennial, which opened last weekend. Neither will artistic directors Sharon Johnston and Mark Lee; although they provocatively titled the second iteration of the event "Make New History", a phrase borrowed from the title of an artist book by Ed Ruscha.

In remarks to the press, they pointed to the many works displayed in the Chicago Cultural Center as explanation. And if these works are to be trusted, then history is not the dark angel haunting philosophers and historians, but rather something lighter: a shiny treasure trove of references – called forth by Google image search – to be appropriated and stylised.

Deadpan Rushca understood the irony of his slogan. With three simple words he poked fun at the impossibility of escaping our past. An edition of Make New History sits on the shelves of Johnston Marklee's office (or so says editor Sarah Hearne – the inaugural biennial's co-curator – in her introduction to the biennial catalog).

Published in 2009 to mark the occasion of the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art's 30th anniversary, the book's 600 deliberately blank pages were meant to evoke hope in the future, perhaps, hope in the newborn Obama administration. Eight years later, the title unwittingly captures an anxiety to reproduce novelty and its imperative eerily echoes #MAGA sloganeering.

It is from those white pages that the curatorial framework emerges, and with it an exhibition that reveals a truth about contemporary practice: the desire to surf the wave of history rather than to challenge it. Organised around themes such as building histories, material histories, and civic histories, the overall show indicates a scope of interest internal to the discipline.

A selection of photographs curated by Jesús Vassallo weaves through and across the Chicago Cultural Center's many facades, rooms, and corridors. Dreamlike images by artist James Welling or hyperrealistic digital prints by Filip Dujardin suggest an only slightly wider interpretation of the built environment, as the lens continually points back at an architectural subject – Mies van der Rohe's IIT campus or a speculative Chicago skyline.

The overall show indicates a scope of interest internal to the discipline

This recursive redundancy is in full bloom not once, but twice in the biennial: within the grand hall on the second floor under the title Horizontal City and again on the fourth floor with the Vertical City. In both cases the exhibitors produced original work in response to a brief.

For Horizontal City the two-dozen designers were asked to remake an image of an architectural interior. For example Bureau Spectacular created a fur-covered interpretation of Adolf Loos' Villa Müller and Welcomeprojects offered a surrealist take, complete with oversized popsicles, of Le Corbusier's De Beistegui Apartment.

Riffing on the skyscraper as a symbol of modernity and an ongoing site of reinterpretation, the Vertical City brief asked 16 teams to design a 16-foot-tall tower in the spirit of the 1922 Chicago Tribune competition – of which Loos' oversized Doric column as tower/tower as column scheme is seared into architectural pedagogy – and the even more looping "Late Entries" postmodern revival in 1980 by the Chicago Seven.

Favourites include Sam Jacob Studio's pastiche of 150 other buildings into single wedding cake-like stack, Productora's hand-coloured model (an ode to the labor of scribbling with a BIC pen), and Tatiana Bilbao's collaborative high rise. Her informal pastiche entitled (Not) Another Tower, is a brief within a brief; it aggregates the work of fifteen studios, each asked to design a piece of her "vertical community".

The curatorial difficulty of both Horizontal City and Vertical City, however, is flatness. By soliciting responses to given briefs, the already referential works become even more circumscribed and self-conscious.

It is near impossible for any one work to pop, to transcend the rules of the exercise, or resist the curatorial constraint. The act of viewing becomes comparative (who solved the problem better, wittier?) and the possibility of resonance between individual pieces is radically eclipsed.

It is near impossible for any one work to pop

Which is why in the skyscraper hall it is an artwork that trumps all the towers. Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle's Beehives with Asteroid and Prototype for Re-entry (2012) – composed of a grid of white standardised Langstroth beehives, an aluminium replica of an asteroid once predicted to collide with Earth and a reproduction of Constantin Brancusi's Bird in Space – presents a collection of hyper-charged objects as a reflection on modernism. The work is strange, and it is precisely the artist's ability to amp up uncanny tension that makes it almost vibrate with, well, history.

Given the profiles of the studios represented in the two galleries, it is tempting to ascribe generational divisions between Horizontal City and Vertical City: Millennial versus Gen X, emerging versus emerged practices. Certainly there seems to be a youthful playfulness among the interiors crowd.

Due to dollhouse-like typology, a menagerie of sundries and scale figures fill the models: lawn chairs, golden lucky cats, cacti, Oldenberg binoculars, Doritos. Yet overall, generational conditions may not be as important as historical or cultural conditions in uniting these two groups.

Many of the practices represented were founded or came of age during the Obama administration. Pre-Brexit, pre-Trump, pre-Syrian refugee crisis, those years presented a relatively safe space for architects in the US and elsewhere to turn inwards and puzzle disciplinary questions.

Broadly, for those hit by the global economic downturn of the late 2000s there's lingering PTSD and precarity. That double dose of insecurity dampens desires for risk taking or moving too far afield from academic props.

Within the greater context of the biennial and the Chicago Cultural Center, this translates to an exhibition that is uniformly technically and aesthetically virtuous (the "make" is on point), but stuck in the shallows. And yes, exceptions exist.

The exhibition is uniformly technically and aesthetically virtuous, but stuck in the shallows

Some of the best pieces are placed in some of the most awkward places in the building. Under the back stair sits An American Temple by The Empire with Illaria Forti, Joseph Swerdlin, and Barbara Modolo. A black monolith, with echoes of the designs of Aldo Rossi, the piece is a replica of the first nuclear pile, which once sat in a racquetball court on the University of Chicago campus.

An accompanying book of archival drawings and photographs makes visible a dark slice of the past that today's dealings with nuclear ambitious North Korea and Iran make clear is still very present.

Similarly, works that edge towards the interdisciplinary are nimble enough to escape curatorial constraints and may point a new way forward. Bridging architectural history, preservation, and environmental science, Jorge Otero-Pailos's The Ethics of Dust exhibits a series of latex casts of the pollution gathered on monuments around the world.

And Constructions and References, Caruso St John's collaboration with artist Thomas Demand and photographer Hélèn Binet, includes the firm's models as well as large prints of details of the Obama White House and the fake stack of folders President Trump used as a press conference prop.

Among other things, these works prove that formal considerations (historic and contemporary) can not only co-exist with political moments (past and present), but also truly benefit from such frictions.

If architecture as intellectual inquiry (biennials, academy, books) and profession (high rises, houses, mini-malls) is to continue to carry meaning it needs to take more risks and find allies in resistance. History – new, now, and otherwise – has never been a safe space.

Mimi Zeiger is a Los Angeles-based journalist and critic. She has covered art, architecture, urbanism and design for a number of publications including The New York Times, Domus, Dwell, Architects' Newspaper, and Architect.

Second Chicago Architecture Biennial will "look back to look forward" say artistic directors

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from ifttt-furniture https://www.dezeen.com/2017/09/26/opinion-mimi-zeiger-second-chicago-architecture-biennial/

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