#On the Waterfront glove scene

[malsperanza]

I don't want to fall too far into the debate about whether danmei/gay romantic stories are aimed at a straight female audience, and whether that's appropriative and exploitive,* but the erotic allure of sexual ambiguity is part of the mix.

Someone posted a clip of Marlon Brando in a sweaty T shirt in A Streetcar Named Desire, which reminded me of this iconic scene from On the Waterfront. Brando was always sex on wheels onscreen, unadulterated charisma, and also known as one of Hollywood's biggest bi male stars (along with Cary Grant, Tony Curtis, and Errol Flynn). The difference with Brando is in how he used his unique mix of hypermasculine body and effeminate manner to intensify his effects.

This scene is famous because Eva Marie Saint dropped her glove by accident and Brando picked it up and improvised using it - pure Actor's Studio technique - and she kept going too. From a performance pov, it's fascinating to see them both playing the scene and the characters while also reading and responding to each other's cues in the improv, giving the scene an extra level of uncertainty, anxiety, and instability.

But from a romance pov, the through line of the scene is this: man is trying to hit on shy woman and is trying (ineptly) to be gentle about it while still signaling his attraction. Woman, although shy, is trying to signal that she's not saying no. The man takes the woman's glove but doesn't return it to her - instead he puts it on. This is within the trope called "indirect kiss" but it's also, crucially, more than that. This burly, testosterone-driven man (he's a thug and a boxer) briefly reveals a feminine aspect. It's not a female disguise - that is, it's not cross-dressing. It's his own hidden self becoming temporarily visible. The two are, briefly, sharing a female body. Eva Marie Saint ends the moment by taking the aggressive male role: she pulls the glove off Brando's unresisting hand because the scene is about to end and she can't leave it there.

This scene gets taught in acting classes as an example of pure mastery of improv by both actors and of the Actors Studio style of naturalism in acting. But it's also a moment in which Brando uses his own genderswitching identity to maximum effect.

The result is that the uncertainty and anxiety of the scene are converted, for a moment, into pure erotic power.

And this idea is what some of the very charismatic actors in danmei dramas do - they draw on the play of gender ambiguity to heighten the sense of shared body, complex attraction, and open identity. I'm thinking here of Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo in The Untamed, or Zhang Zhehan and Gong Jun in Word of Honor. And the thing that makes good danmei so effective is when you get two actors who are equally willing to go there, and are in sync. (I don't think Eva Marie Saint gets enough credit for the glove scene, where she picked up and perfectly responded to every one of Brando's cues on the fly.)

I think it happens so rarely in Hollywood or most European filmmaking because western actors are so uncomfortable acknowledging that gender is a spectrum not a binary. Heath Ledger is maybe one exception. But no one did it as well as Brando. Once you see it, you see it in all his performances - where he was often cast in hypermasculine roles and subverted them every time.

In Streetcar Named Desire - written by a gay playwright who made gay identity a subtext (or text) throughout his work - Brando's sexual presence onscreen is unmatched. (Paul Newman did a version of it in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, but not at the same level.)

--

*Yes, yes, and also no, no, and also It's Complicated.

[artist-issues]

Look, I read the biographies, I googled ‘em, and I know people say James Dean was a Marlon Brando-copy.

But I just saw On the Waterfront and I didn’t get that at all. I mean. Maybe some of Dean’s line delivery is similar here and there. I noticed Brando holds his side with both hands, which Dean also does in Padlocks and Something For an Empty Briefcase when he’s acting injured. And I think maybe they both interact with objects of meaning, like Jim tugging on Abra’s watch or Terry’s playing with Edie’s glove.

But other than that I was looking for similarities in the way they carry themselves or in their mannerisms and I didn’t see many.

I mean. I’m no expert. Maybe I just can’t tell what’s technique and what’s character-choice. But they seem to approach similar scenes differently, which shouldn’t be the case when the whole point everybody is trying to make is that James Dean copies Brando. For example, it looks to me like they interact with girl costars very differently. Brando acts very charming and forward, maintaining a flirty gaze as long as his character isn’t avoiding a question.

In Streetcar, when Brando’s character is interacting with a woman he hates but is attracted to, because she’s constantly judging him, you get very forward eye contact.  But even in Rebel, with more confident characters like Jim Stark, Dean plays his romance scenes by avoiding eye contact and only looking when the girl isn’t.

And when it’s an insecure character like Cal? No Brando-ish, flirty, observant looks toward the lady while she’s watching, at all. Just big stares whenever she turns away.

I am not an actor, but I do sometimes draw characters by basing their traits after real people, so to some extent I know what kind of movements and mannerisms I’m looking for to replicate. When a person I’m using for inspiration looks out of the tops of their eyes or does something distinctly memorable, I jot that down and do it later with the characters I’m drawing. 

I just don’t see any similarities in mannerisms between them. The most I can figure is that the Method of acting was popularized and introduced to the Silver Screen by Brando, and then when James Dean, also using the Method, got big after Eden, and people heard he liked Brando and owned a motorcycle like Brandos, they went, “‘oh he’s copying Brando.” ‘

And yeah, I guess they both stand out on screen because they both have that “real person” energy that interested me in James Dean in the first place. But in my humble opinion, although Brando is interesting to watch and feels like he’d fit right in onscreen with modern, realistic-acting-charming actors, he isn’t as raw as James Dean when James Dean is at his best.  I think the most powerful acting isn’t acting at all; it’s showing a side of yourself that is intimate and real and genuine, and relating it to the character. James Dean really had issues with his dad and really was insecure and unsure of what people wanted from him, from everything I can tell. So in East of Eden, he is Cal, he doesn’t just act like Cal. Everything from the way he runs with his hands in his pockets to the way he’s a mouth breather to his stares to his hunched shoulders, not just his line delivery, feels like you’re watching live footage of a real, insecure person who didn’t know he was being filmed.

I don’t get that feeling from Terry in On the Waterfront, as great as he is, and I certainly don’t get it from Stanley in Streetcar. They both feel like amazing character portrayals, and they’re easy to believe and watch, but they don’t have raw moments that hit me the way James Dean’s do. Not even the “Stellaaaa” scene or the taxi cab scene.

[burlingtonvttransportation]

   Important Tips for Moving to Burlington, VT

Burlington, Vermont, a picturesque city nestled on the shores of Lake Champlain, is a vibrant and charming place to call home. Known for its stunning natural beauty, vibrant arts scene, and friendly community, Burlington offers a unique blend of urban and rural living. If you're planning to move to Burlington, here are some important tips to make your transition smooth and enjoyable. Additionally, we'll explore transportation options, including the Burlington to Stowe shuttle and car service in Burlington, VT, to help you navigate your new home.

1. Understanding Burlington’s Climate

Burlington experiences a humid continental climate with four distinct seasons. Winters can be long and harsh, with average temperatures in January hovering around 20°F (-6°C). Snowfall is common, so be prepared for snow removal and winter driving conditions. Summers are warm and pleasant, with average temperatures in July around 70°F (21°C). The fall foliage is spectacular, making it a popular time for outdoor activities.

Tip: Invest in high-quality winter clothing and gear. A good pair of snow boots, a heavy-duty coat, gloves, and hats are essential. Also, ensure your vehicle is equipped for winter driving with snow tires and an emergency kit.

2. Finding Housing in Burlington

Burlington offers a variety of housing options, from historic homes in the Hill Section to modern apartments downtown. The South End is known for its artsy vibe and proximity to Lake Champlain, while the Old North End offers more affordable options with a diverse community.

Tip: Start your housing search early, as the rental market can be competitive, especially in the summer months when students return to the University of Vermont. Websites like Zillow, Craigslist, and local real estate agents can be helpful resources.

3. Navigating Transportation

While Burlington is a walkable city, having access to a car can make life more convenient, especially if you plan to explore the surrounding areas. Public transportation is available through Green Mountain Transit, which offers bus services around the city and to neighboring towns.

Tip: Consider using a car service in Burlington, VT, for reliable transportation. Local car services provide comfortable and efficient travel, whether you're heading to the airport, a business meeting, or a night out.

4. Utilizing the Burlington to Stowe Shuttle

Stowe, a popular destination for skiing and outdoor activities, is just a short drive from Burlington. The Burlington to Stowe shuttle is a convenient option for those without a car or who prefer not to drive in winter conditions.

Tip: Check the shuttle schedule in advance, especially during peak seasons, to ensure availability. The shuttle provides a hassle-free way to enjoy a day trip or weekend getaway to Stowe’s renowned ski slopes and hiking trails.

5. Embracing the Local Culture

Burlington has a thriving arts and music scene, with numerous galleries, theaters, and live music venues. The South End Arts District is a hub for creativity, featuring local artists and makers. The Flynn Center for the Performing Arts hosts a variety of performances, from Broadway shows to concerts and dance performances.

Tip: Get involved in the local community by attending events, joining clubs, or volunteering. The Burlington Farmers Market, held year-round, is a great place to meet locals, enjoy fresh produce, and discover handmade goods.

6. Exploring Outdoor Activities

Burlington’s location on Lake Champlain offers endless opportunities for outdoor recreation. Boating, fishing, kayaking, and paddleboarding are popular activities in the summer. The Burlington Bike Path, which runs along the waterfront, is perfect for cycling, jogging, or leisurely walks.

Tip: Take advantage of the numerous parks and natural areas around Burlington. Oakledge Park, North Beach, and Red Rocks Park are just a few places where you can enjoy the outdoors and stunning views of the lake.

7. Understanding the Cost of Living

Burlington's cost of living is higher than the national average, particularly in terms of housing and utilities. However, the quality of life, safety, and access to amenities often justify the higher costs.

Tip: Budget accordingly and explore cost-saving measures, such as carpooling, using public transportation, or shopping at local markets and thrift stores. Consider energy-efficient appliances and practices to reduce utility bills.

8. Getting Involved in the Community

Burlington is known for its strong sense of community and civic engagement. Numerous organizations and initiatives focus on sustainability, social justice, and community development.

Tip: Attend city council meetings, participate in local events, and join community organizations to stay informed and get involved. The sense of belonging and contribution will make your transition smoother and more rewarding.

9. Accessing Healthcare and Education

Burlington is home to the University of Vermont Medical Center, providing high-quality healthcare services. The city also has excellent educational institutions, including the University of Vermont and Champlain College.

Tip: Establish a relationship with a local healthcare provider and explore educational opportunities, whether for yourself or your children. The city offers a variety of programs and services to support lifelong learning.

10. Enjoying Local Cuisine

Burlington’s food scene is diverse and vibrant, with numerous restaurants, cafes, and breweries offering a wide range of cuisines. From farm-to-table dining to international flavors, there’s something for everyone.

Tip: Explore the local food scene by visiting popular spots like Church Street Marketplace, where you can find a variety of dining options. Don’t miss out on trying Vermont’s famous maple syrup and cheese.

11. Staying Informed and Connected

Staying informed about local news and events is crucial for new residents. Burlington has several local news outlets, including the Burlington Free Press and Seven Days, that provide comprehensive coverage of local happenings.

Tip: Subscribe to local newspapers, join community social media groups, and sign up for newsletters to stay connected and informed. Engaging with local media will help you integrate into the community and stay updated on important issues and events.

12. Preparing for Emergencies

Burlington is a safe city, but it’s important to be prepared for emergencies. Familiarize yourself with local emergency services, including fire, police, and medical facilities. The city also has resources for natural disasters, such as flooding or severe weather.

Tip: Create an emergency plan for your household, including contact information, meeting points, and essential supplies. Stay informed about local emergency alerts and weather updates.

Conclusion

Moving to Burlington, VT, is an exciting adventure filled with opportunities to explore new landscapes, cultures, and communities. By understanding the local climate, housing market, transportation options, and community resources, you can make a smooth transition and fully enjoy all that Burlington has to offer. Whether you're using the Burlington to Stowe shuttle for a weekend getaway or a car service in Burlington, VT, for your daily commute, you'll find that this vibrant city has something for everyone. Embrace the local culture, get involved in the community, and take advantage of the natural beauty that surrounds you. Welcome to Burlington!

[jasonsutekh]

On the Waterfront (1954)

A dockworker with a shady boss is pressured into testifying against his crimes but doing so would alienate him from the community.

There’s a good deal of engaging subtext so it’s no wonder the critics gave it acclaim. There’s debate around whether it casts suspicion on Communist practices due to how unions can be abused or if the commentary is judging Capitalism for rigging a system with so many opportunity to exploit workers. Either way the social realism is great for expressing the negotiation through subject matter that was highly controversial at the time.

Even though the love story was fairly crucial to the story, it’s presentation was unhealthy but the narrative framed it as inevitable so it wasn’t to hard to accept regardless of the poor fit. It was odd that the voice of reason, speaking out against hypocrisy, was a priest especially when few of the other characters show any spiritual inclination.

The acting was all consistently strong, the lead in particular had the opportunity to demonstrate a range of emotions with subtlety. The film also effectively developed the protagonist by showing the changeable attitudes of the personal community, the work system at large, as well as that of the criminals; the only notable absence was any real law aside from the odd scene in which the police behave much like the gang members.

Although there was a resolution by the end, several things were left open-ended. For example the resolution applies mainly to work and rather than whether he made up with his girlfriend or the neighbour boy. It also leaves a vacuum in the local power structure waiting for another tyrant to fill it. Even the henchmen are still free and available.

4/10 -It’s below average, but only just!-

-The gloves Edie wears throughout the film and a reference to her being raised by nuns is a subtle suggestion that she’s a virgin, it also reflects Terry’s naivety when he tries one on.

-The German title for the film is “Die Faust im Nacken” or “The Fist in the Neck”.

-The director was heavily criticised at the time, and in retrospect, for informing to the US government on other alleged Communists.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

lonan & harrison almost get into a car accident & then things get bloody & intimate somehow (from 2020? 2021?):

read the full scene under the cut!

Harrison nods. He presses a palm to the cold window until his print transfers, then stares out the window through his fingerprints. As Lonan makes a right, closer to the water, Harrison stares at its surface, the way it shifts and bends with sunlight. He nearly dissolves inside the car. Doesn’t feel its steady pulse against the road or even notice the re-fogging of the window pane. He sees himself and his mother standing on that water, finding a new place to dive into this new life and nothing more. Just newness.

And then Lonan nearly crashes into an oncoming pickup truck. It happens so quickly, Harrison isn’t certain it’s even occurred or if he’s even stopped looking at the water. But when he turns, only slightly, barely moving his head, a tie of blood stripes Lonan’s upper lip, and the car stalls so long in the middle of the road that at least three cars nearly rear-end it.

“Pull over,” Harrison says, so slowly, it is as if he tastes the words individually before letting them out. “Lonan, pull over.”

But he doesn’t see him. Lonan is so still, Harrison almost believes he’s imagined his presence, and would call himself delusional if it weren’t for the subtle movement of the blood. It pearls into his mouth, yet Lonan never looks at the direction it flows. Instead his gaze stays pointed to the waterfront, glimmering.

Harrison doesn’t know how he takes the wheel, or how he manages to ungracefully tuck them onto a side street. Doesn’t know when the tree-shaped air-freshener skitters from the rear-view, or when it stops. How long it takes for the car’s frizz to still, how long Lonan sits in the driver’s seat, nearly drinking his own blood.

Harrison reaches for him. One hand on the back of his neck, and the other reared toward the red stream. His touch is tactful, so faint his fingerprints wouldn’t even be left behind, but still, the dabbing with his jacket’s hem is enough to redirect the blood’s flow from Lonan’s upper lip to the cuff of leather.

The radio is still on, garbled like an unmassing of crepe paper lanterns. Harrison’s instinct is to hum, and so he does, wrings Lonan’s blood free, and puffs quarter notes. In this time, Lonan doesn’t stir. His eyes remain open, but he stares, hulled, out the front windshield. His blood daggers down Harrison’s wrists, pools in his palms like holy water, and yet it takes the nosebleed’s eventual taper for him to even suggest he is still alive.

It’s just the subtle tick of his jaw at first. And then his bloody nose twitches. A rush of air as he inhales, and then its vibrato as he exhales. Lonan stares ahead as he conjoins back to his body, his eyes flitting to the now still air-freshener and then the glove compartment and then the hand still ledged across his top lip.

Slowly, he peels Harrison’s fingers away, and then tucks his own between them, not an act of intimacy, but documentation. He feels for the blood to be certain it is there.

“It was the water,” Harrison says, studies the ooze of red between their palms. It’s almost impossible to detect where one plane of skin ends and another starts. He thinks of what Lonan mentioned in passing, that Eliza drove them into a lake. He believed him then—it seems like something she would do—but also did not believe him, or at least, didn’t want to.

Lonan squeezes his nose-bridge with his freehand and paves a stray tendril of blood across his cheek.

“You’re stressed,” Harrison says.

“I thought you said I was disturbed.”

“What’s the difference?”

Lonan releases Harrison’s hand, but not before he pinches the leather cuff of the jacket, sponged with blood. He cleans his hands on his jacketfront and buries them under his arms.

“I’ll pay to get that dry cleaned,” he says.

Harrison scoffs. He doesn’t know why he finds Lonan’s indifference entertaining or if Lonan is indifferent at all, if he’s merely embarrassed or flustered or still unpresent. “I stole all your money.”

“Then I’ll get a job. I don’t want to make a mess.” Lonan’s tone is surprising. He sounds almost angry, or maybe desperate.

Harrison holds his bloody fingers to eyelevel, memorizes the flood of his fingerprints, what pattern they make when he leans forward and scores his thumb against Lonan’s throat. “What are you making a mess of?”

Lonan releases one of his hands and then his seatbelt. It scrolls back into its holster with a satisfying click. Though he never does say anything, instead pulling the car back into drive and resuming their route to nowhere, Harrison sees the answer in his face.

You.

who up and interested in reading a deleted scene from feeding habits

[backhurtyy]

what it means to hold hands

1 - touched by another no2 (2010), amanda tonkin-hill [ID: a simple oil painting of two hands shown from the wrist down with their fingers laced together, holding each other. the back of one larger hand is visible, while the smaller hand's fingers come around and rest on it. the background is white and in the corner is the artists signature, tonkin-hill '10. /End ID.]

2 - city of bones (deleted scene), cassandra clare [ID: "He reassured her, but he felt her soft laughter travel through their joined hands–how did that happen?–as they made their way downstairs. / And he understood. He understood why people held hands: he’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying This is mine. But it wasn’t. It was about maintaining contact. It was about speaking without words. It was about I want you with me and Don’t go." /End ID.]

3 - heart part 2 (05x13), she-ra and the princesses of power [ID: a screenshot from the animated show she-ra. adora's arm, covered by a white long-sleeve shirt, extends down from the top right corner. in the middle, her hand grasps catra's hand, extending up from the bottom left corner. the background is light pink, purple, and yellow.]

4 - perry poetry [ID: "Your fingers entwined / slowly with mine, / and suddenly, / life made sense." /End ID.]

5 - backs in the distance (ep. 22), fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood [ID: a screenshot from the anime fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood. ed holds winry's hand in between his automail hand and his gloved hand. /End ID.]

6 - braeden phillips [ID: "What else does holding someone’s hand represent other than love? Friendship, trust, and affection all have their root in love. To love someone is to take their hand in your own, and walk along the waterfront as the sun begins to set. / That’s love. That’s being alive. That’s what it means to hold someone’s hand." /End ID.]

7 - the last stand (04x13), the legend of korra [ID: a screenshot from the animated show the legend of korra. asami and korra are shown from the back, asami on the left and korra on the right, with their hands clasped between them. beyond them is bright yellow and green light from the spirit portal. /End ID.]

8 - why otters hold hands, bill walsh [ID: "I remember the otters holding hands / while sleeping / so they won’t drift apart." /End ID.]

9 - holding hands feels so intimate (2020), claudia barbu [ID: an oil painting of two hands resting in each other, done in browns, pinks, reds, and whites. the background is green, blue, and white, and the paint strokes are easily distinguishable from each other. /End ID.]

10 - aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe, benjamin alire sáenz [ID: "My mother and father held hands. I wondered what that was like, to hold someone’s hand. I bet you could sometimes find all of the mysteries of the universe in someone’s hand." /End ID.]

[hellveticabold]

Eddissy circa 1954

The Eddie/Chrissy scene in the woods is so perfect, but I swore I’d seen it before. 

Then I remembered a professor showing my film class a clip of Marlon Brando in On The Waterfront as an example of perfect acting. Brando plays Terry - a former boxer/dockworker from the wrong side of town. His love interest, Edie, is a sweet church-going girl who’s initially pretty intimidated by him and his rough exterior.

During filming of the scene, the actress accidentally dropped her glove and Brando picked it up in-character. He spends the rest of the scene fiddling with it, just like Eddie spends so much time twiddling his fingers. (Such a perfect crack in the tough guy façade to show that inner vulnerability.)

Terry is trying to strike up a conversation with a girl he likes and put her at ease, but he’s also nervous (hence the fidgeting). He teases her softly her about how she looked when they were in high school.

She starts to leave, but he calls out to her: “You don’t remember me, do ya?” 

Edie assures him she does, telling him that she remembered him always getting into trouble. He reminisces about their teachers trying to ‘beat’ an education into him, but he fought them all the way. Edie tells him that he should have been treated with more kindness as the only reason people are mean or difficult is that others don’t care enough about them. 

The flirtatious teasing, the good-girl/bad-boy dynamic, the nervous fidgeting, hell even the setting reminds me so much of the scene between Eddie and Chrissy.

Oh! Brando won an Oscar for this, so Quinn deserves at least an Emmy.

[tcm]

Andy Griffith: An Underrated Movie Star By Susan King

Andy Griffith was one of the greatest actors of the 20th century. He didn’t make the impact of his peers Marlon Brando, James Dean and Paul Newman when they all burst onto the scene in the 1950s, but Griffith demonstrated he was an actor of depth, complexity and, at times, brilliance during his 50-plus year career. His depth is especially on display in his greatest role as Lonesome Rhodes, the odious hard-living, hard-loving Arkansas drifter who becomes a television sensation in Elia Kazan’s A FACE IN THE CROWD (’57).

A dark social commentary about power and the media, A FACE IN THE CROWD is as prescient today as it was 63 years ago. It wasn’t a hit upon release but has grown in reputation over the years. And, it’s head scratching to believe that Griffith wasn’t nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for his performance.

Perhaps he’s not uttered in the same breath as a Brando because Griffith achieved his greatest success on the small screen. He starred as the gentle widower Sheriff Andy Taylor in the beloved 1960-68 sitcom The Andy Griffith Show and as the folksy but brilliant and often cantankerous attorney Ben Matlock in the 1986-95 legal eagle series Matlock. Despite his popular, genial and understated turn as Andy Taylor (who many kids thought was the best father around), Griffith didn’t even earn an Emmy nomination.

Griffith originally wanted to be a singer or a preacher but ended up teaching at a local high school after graduating from college. But the lure of performing was too great, and he left the chalkboard behind to become a comic monologist. And he was funny. Check out his most famous routine, “What It Was, Was Football” from a 1954 The Ed Sullivan Show on YouTube. He’s so believable as the backwoods rube, audiences undoubtedly thought that was Griffith’s real character.

The year of 1955 was life-changing for Griffith. He became an overnight sensation after he was cast in the lead role as the naïve Air Force Private Will Stockdale in the live TV comedy No Time for Sergeants. He’s so mirthful as the good old boy that members of the crew can be heard laughing. Later that year, he made his Broadway debut in the stage version of No Time for Sergeants earning rave reviews and a Tony nomination. It was while he was the toast of Broadway that he was approached by Oscar-winning screenwriter Budd Schulberg (ON THE WATERFRONT, ‘54) about playing Lonesome Rhodes.

Griffith told me in a 2005 L.A. Times interview that Schulberg and his mother came to see the play and soon after Griffith met the writer at a bar. Ironically, Schulberg didn’t think Griffith could handle such a ruthless character. “We were sitting there talking and drinking,” Griffith recalled. “He told me, ‘you can’t play this role.’ I had never read the script or his short story on which it was based at that time, but I just kind of envisioned the character. I said, ‘I can’t provide it to you…but I can play it.’”

Kazan also had his doubts, but quickly changed his mind when Griffith did an impression of evangelist Oral Roberts “healing” the filmmaker. “At that moment, he and Budd could see that I had a little wild side – that is, I can create a wild side. So Gadge [Kazan’s nickname] used that. He used that part of me to find the emotions of evil, the various thousands of moods that this man had.”

Kazan and Schulberg, Griffith noted, “were trying to make the social commentary that the medium and the people who control it can control the thoughts of the country and how dangerous that can be,” Griffith said. The director told Griffith to drink some whiskey for this film’s conclusion when Rhodes is unveiled as a phony and a demagogue. “They brought me a bottle of Jack Daniels Black Label,” he said. “I would shoot a little bit and drink a little bit. I thought I was great. Gadge pulled the plug around 3 o’clock. The next day he said, ‘Andy, we have to shoot most of that over again. Today, just smell the cork!’”

The 1958 film version of NO TIME FOR SERGEANTS and another 1958 service comedy, ONIONHEAD just didn’t work and bombed with both critics and audiences. “I basically struck out in Hollywood,” Griffith told me in 1993. He returned to Broadway, earning another Tony nomination for the musical version of Destry Rides Again. Griffith admitted, though, the show wasn’t very good. So, he decided to do television. The pilot for The Andy Griffith Show, which also starred Ron Howard as his young son Opie, Frances Bavier as Aunt Bee and Don Knotts as the ultra-nervous deputy Barney Fife, aired on the popular The Danny Thomas Show. The show was quickly snapped up by CBS to develop into a series.

Knotts, who won five Emmys as Fife, wasn’t in the pilot. Knotts, who appeared with Griffith in NO TIME FOR SERGEANTS, called him and said, “Don’t you need a deputy?” “I was supposed to have been the comic, the funny one,” said Griffith. “It might not have lasted even half of season that way, but when Don came on, I realized by the second episode, he should be funny, and I should play straight to him. “

Despite the fact the series was the no. 1 show, Griffith wanted to stretch his acting muscles and the series ended in 1968. But Hollywood still didn’t know what to do with him. He signed a three-picture deal with Universal, but the first film ANGEL IN MY POCKET (’69) had a devil of a time trying to find an audience and the critics were not impressed. He struck out again and returned to the small screen. In between series work, TV movies and guest spots, Griffith appeared on the big screen, most notably in the sweet nostalgic comedy HEARTS OF THE WEST (’75) with Jeff Bridges and Alan Arkin.

He finally earned an Emmy nomination in 1981 for the TV movie MURDER IN TEXAS, in which he got the opportunity to show his dramatic chops as a wealthy Texan who thinks his daughter’s new husband isn’t exactly who he appears to be. His turn in Matlock gave him a renewed popularity. Griffith was doing guest spot on TV and had just released a hymns and spirituals CD when I interviewed him in 2005. Two years later, Griffith was perfectly cast in WAITRESS (2007) as Joe, the elderly and curmudgeonly owner of a small café who had a generous and kind heart. The role fit him like a comfortable glove.

Baby boomers felt they had lost a big part of their childhood when Griffith died in 2012 at the age of 86. Ron Howard summed up what so many of his fans were feeling: “His pursuit of excellence and the joy he took in creating served generations and shaped my life. I’m forever grateful. RIP Andy.”

[rogerina-deacon]

Tonight’s For You // Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader Request: “Hi, I would like to request a smut oneshot of Joe, where the reader and Joe are dating but haven't had sex yet, and the reader tells Joe she never had an orgasm before. Have a nice day.” Summary: After classics night at the local theater, Joe helps you with something you’ve been struggling with for a long time. Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral (f recieving) Word Count: 1.6k

(Gif via Pinterest)

Walking home, your hand interlocked with Joe’s, you two chat mindlessly about “On The Waterfront”, the film you just saw for classics night at the local theater. Being the film nerd he tends to be, he took this date as an opportunity to show off his knowledge of how films are made.

“Actually, you remember that scene where Brando and Steiger are in the taxi? During Steigers close up, Brando wasn’t even on set! Steiger had to rant to no one, cause once Brando was done filming, he left.” Joe explained.

“Well, that seems very unprofessional.” You commented, not wanting to reveal just yet you had studied that scene back during a film class and knew that.

“Yeah, kinda, but he’s already such a big shot at that point no one cared. I mean, his spur-of-the-moment decision to pick up Eva’s character’s glove was kept in, that just kinda shows how well he got the character.” He said just as you stepped through his front door. Ever the gentleman, he took your coat and scarf and hung it in the closet for you as you made your way to sit on the sofa, just as you always did after a night out with him. But tonight, you could tell the vibe was different. After dating for a few weeks, sexual tension is expected, especially after canoodling in a dark theater for nearly two hours. But there were some extra nerves on your part. Not that you didn’t trust him, you did very much, but more so that you didn’t trust your vagina. No matter how hard any man tried, though you must admit most didn’t try that hard, you couldn’t seem to climax. Or at least, if you did, you couldn’t tell because it was so mild.

“Hey, you alright there? Seem a little nervous, if you want I can pour you a glass of wine, that might calm you down.” He said, sitting down next to you.

“No, trust me, what I’m nervous about is best without being intoxicated.” You said, fumbling with your hands as he scooched closer, his arm around the back of the sofa and hand lightly placed on your shoulder.

“And just what might that be?” He asked, though you could tell he knew by the way his voice lowered and eyes darkened.

“Oh, you don’t wanna hear about it.” You brushed off, heat rising to your cheeks at the mere thought of telling him that you didn’t think your body was able to have orgasms.

“But I do, baby. I really” He paused, his hand on your knee.

“Really” He paused again, hand traveling up your thigh, his head tilting down and closer to you.

“Really do.” He finished, voice near a whisper as his mouth was mere inches away from your ear.

“Well, we’ve been going together for a little-”

“‘Going together? Did the film influence you that much you’re using lingo from back then?” He teased, chuckling a bit as he said it.

“You know what, never mind, let’s just-” You started, but he was quick to interrupt again.

“No, no, I’m sorry baby, I just- I guess I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” He explained. “Go on, tell me what’s on your mind.” He continued, and you could tell he was focused in on whatever you had planned to say.

“Well, I just guess that, um, I can tell there’s some, uh, tension, and I’ve, uh, neverhadanorgasm” You blurted out, and Joe tried to decipher whatever you had just said.

“Really? You mean-” He started, but now you were the one cutting him off.

“I mean, every guy I’ve been with has tried different techniques, I guess you’d call them, but no one’s ever succeeded. I guess what I’m trying to say is, don��t put yourself down on account of my inability to cum.”

“Damn. Well, those guys must’ve been dumbasses.” He stated, not holding you accountable for it. You looked at him confused, not understanding why, or how, he came to that conclusion.

“Well, if you’d let me, I’d be honored to make you cum for the first time, whenever you want that to be.” He said, his voice lowering again.

“Joe, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying-” You started, before being interrupted again.

“No, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. Clearly those men didn’t care about your pleasure, and I’m telling you that I do. I’d eat you out for two days straight if it meant you’d cum.” He said, and you laughed at the idea.

“Well, I don’t have any plans for the next few days, if you’d like to-” You started, but again you were interrupted, but this time by Joe taking your hand and pulling you to his bedroom. He swiftly opened the door, letting you go in first before he did, slamming the door shut behind him. His hands quickly flew to your hips, his head moving to connect your lips with his. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he led you backwards to the edge of the bed, one hand moving to the small of your back to help lay you down, his body straddling yours as his lips traveled down to your neck, your fingers already tangled in his hair.

“You sure you want this, baby?” He mumbled against your skin, and you nodded fast before remembering his eyes were closed.

“Yeah, please Joe, I’ve gone so long without cumming and you’re getting me riled up fast.” You admitted, and he wasted no time in adjusting so his face was parallel with your clothed crotch, though he was quick to undo your pants and pull them down and off your legs, tossing them onto the floor. He started peppering kisses along your legs, working his way up from your ankles, not missing an inch of skin. Propping yourself up with your elbows, Joe paused just as he reached the apex of your thigh.

“Just relax, babygirl. Gonna take good care of you.” He assured, bringing his face down to your body, his breath hot against your panties before he abruptly wrapped his lips around your still clothed pussy, lightly sucking before placing a soft kiss and wrapped his arms around your thighs, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your panties and pulling them down, adjusting to sit on his knees as he swiftly removed them and discarded it to the floor. Laying on his stomach once again, he flattened his tongue as he softly licked and separated your folds, his saliva mixing with your arousal as he did, a moan escaping his throat from the delightful taste. The vibrations from his moans created a whole new sensation from oral, a trick he learned a while ago and could tell was working on you as he heard and cherished the soft moans leaving your mouth.

“That’s it babygirl, let me hear you.” He encouraged just before he finally wrapped his lips around your swollen clit, sucking gently at first before he got hungrier for your orgasm. He licked up your slit again before working your clit again, this time by flicking the hardened tip of his tongue rapidly against the clit. His hands were wrapped around your thighs again by this point, his grip firm as he pleased you as best he could, which was better than any man or toy before him. But as euphoric as his mouth felt, you knew you needed more.

“Fuck, Joe, I need more.” You breathed out, one of your hands moving down to lace through his hair.

“Mhm, think I know just what you need.” he mumbled against you, and he brought down one of his hands to circle a finger around your entrance, his digit traveling down to collect the juices that had dripped down to your asshole before bringing it up and pushing it inside your entrance, instantly crooking it upwards and searching for your g-spot, and as soon as he heard a loud moan escape your throat he smirked against you, continuously pressing into your g-spot, causing your arousal to flow even faster and drip down his face. You felt the coil build faster, a sensation entirely new and completely euphoric as you somehow knew you were getting close. Joe was moaning and sucking your clit as he fingered you as hard and fast as he could, desperate to be the first man to make you cum.

“F-fuck, Joe, I think I’m close, I-” You started rambling, but you couldn’t get through that sentance without your orgasm ripping through you, waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, radiating outwards from your cunt as Joe helped you ride out your high, slowing down as you got more and more sensitive. As he felt you relax, he removed his face before crawling up next to you.

“How was it?” He asked, already knowing you were in heaven but needing to hear you say it.

“That was… wow.” You said, unsure what else you could say. It felt like there was no words to describe the experience.

“So, good?” He asked.

“Definitely. Do you, uh, want me to make it up to you?” You asked, figuring he might need some help.

“Uh-uh, tonight’s all about you. But definitely some other time, baby. I’m pretty sure next week’s another classics night, I can take you again if you’d like.” He offered, wrapping his arms around you letting you cuddle into his side.

“That’d be really nice.” You said, relaxing as post-orgasmic bliss overtook you, your eyelids slowly closing as you relished in the comfort of being with Joe.

“Wanna stay the night?” He chuckled, noticing how sleepy you were getting.

“If you don’t mind.” You mumbled, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. He leaned his head down and placed a soft, sweet kiss to the top of your head, his hands brushing along your arms to help soothe you to sleep, cherishing how angelic you looked as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

If you liked this, check out my masterlist!

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @thewinchesterchronicles @queen-irl-af @deacytits @punkgeekchic @the-holy-black-hole @radiobribri @deaky-deacy-denky @queenbbarnes @brianprobablywill @nyikondlovu @thatswhatiam-lovernotafighter @ziggymay @drowseoftaylor

JOE TAGLIST: @littleliv1 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession

Send me an ask or a message if you wanna be added to my taglist!

[elym13]

Queen’s Gambit Chapter 5

Yes, I know it has been at least a year. Yes, I am terribly sorry. Yes, I shall try to do better, but for now I offer this humble submission. Note the rest of the story is available at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12579895/1/Queen-s-Gambit

Chapter 5

It was surprising to Elsa that the silence bothered her. After all those years, she would have thought that being alone in a room, in the inn near the Ledsham estate, would have been a relief —  not a problem. But the silence grated on her nerves, as did the gloves, as did the horrible scenes that flashed through her mind when she thought of Anna. And Elsa had been sitting here alone with her thoughts for hours.

She moved to the window and pushed it open. Behind the inn was a small stand of trees that screened it from the waterfront where they had landed in the very early hours of the morning. Charlotte had secured all of the rooms here, above a small tavern, so Elsa knew she was essentially alone. Carolina and Georg — Michael and Georg she corrected herself — had gone to scout the entrances to the castle. The Comtesse was napping in the room next door.

The open window allowed the breeze to help clear the stuffy room. Cold didn’t bother her, but heat did. Elsa removed her gloves placing them on a side table. Then with her hands on bottom of the window frame she leaned out and took a deep breath of the early fall air, craning her neck for a glimpse of the castle where they hoped, only hoped, that her sister and Kristoff were being held.

This was madness. Anna could be hundreds of miles away from here. She could be hurt, in pain, brutalized. Who knew what her captors were capable of? Anna … Anna could be dead.

The wood of the window groaned as it froze. With a start Elsa pulled her hands from the sill and thrust them outside. A stream of frost and ice shot from her hands into the woods, splintering a tree in its wake. She closed her eyes and tried to control it. Think of something warm, something safe, she chided herself, but that was a difficult task.

At last, she managed to pull the magic back into herself. She shivered, and she felt the trail of a tear running down her cheek. Quickly she pulled her gloves back on and then wiped it away. She was going mad. She needed a drink.

The tavern below the rooms was small, warm, and crowded. There was a carved wooden bar that curved around from the interior doorway, and a few tables scattered around the room. Booths on the outside walls under small windows and a plain red door to the street completed the decor. Elsa felt the urge to flee back up the stairs as soon as she came down them. But she couldn’t stand to be alone anymore, and she was in no mood to try to wake the Comtesse let alone talk to her. Plus she was going to have to deal with strangers in the immediate future without the armor of being royalty. She might as well start doing that today.

Elsa took in her surroundings trying to decide where she should land. The bar was occupied by a line of men, farmers by their dress but not peasants. They wore the dress of people who worked hard but had enough money to enjoy themselves at a bar and had more than one set of clothes to wear when they went there. The booths and tables were occupied by a more mixed crowd. More men than women for sure, but some couples sat with each other enjoying food and drink. Two tables were occupied with what Elsa assumed was a local militia. They were clearly military men, most wearing swords, all in coal black jackets and pants with brilliant silver buttons closing the jackets up to their chins. There were, of course, no other single women. But fortunately there was one empty table, and it was there that Elsa sat.

“What can I get fer ya, luv?” The barmaid called as she deftly avoided the hands of the militia men.

“Wine, do you have wine?”

“Aye.” The barmaid looked Elsa up and down. “But it’s not cheap. I’ll have to open the bottle ya know.”

“Oh, I can … I mean, her Excellency the Countess de Artois has made arrangements.” Elsa decided on the Avalonian version of the title.

“I see.”

Elsa felt the bar maid’s eye pierce into her soul, or whatever place lying came from. It felt strange, insulting … humiliating Elsa thought, to have someone question your word let alone your ability to pay for what you asked for.

“I’ll have to ask him,” the bar maid gestured with her head to the stout man behind the bar, the owner. “Sure you don’t want sumthin’ else?”

“No,” Elsa answered firmly. “Wine, if you please.” She watched the woman saunter away, resisting the urge to send a chill wind up her skirt. Maybe it would warm up her soul.

“Girl, if you need someone to share your wine. Me and the boys would be happy to help.”

It took Elsa a moment to pinpoint who was speaking. But when one of the militia men winked at her, she knew she had her man.

“No, thank you.” She answered and then fixed her gaze across the room. This tavern could use a painting or two.

“We’d even pay fer it if you’d come over here.”

Elsa imagined a fine work she would call “The freezing of The Highlands” as a mural across the far wall.

“Oi, don’t be rude. We just wanna talk.”

The others chimed in, “Don’t mean no ‘arm girlie.” “Didn’t yer mother teach you manners.”

Elsa heard the scraping of a chair and then an unshaven face reeking of beer loomed in front of her.

“Shy then. Hows about we join you?”

“No, thank you.”

“Girl, you can’t drink alone. Ain’t right. Ain’t right a girlie sitting by ‘erself.”

Elsa looked away. Then to her utter surprise a hand fixed itself under her chin and pulled her back.

“Come’on luv. Don’t be that way.”

Elsa went rigid and looked him square in the eyes, furious.

“I will thank you to unhand my wife.”

Everyone at the two tables turned. Fitz took two steps closer intervening between the militia man and Elsa. “Back off, mate. We don’t want trouble.”

Elsa’s assailant moved closer to Fitz. “I ain’t yer mate, and you’re the one making trouble.”

“Please darling, go upstairs,” Fitz gestured up the stairs and gave a reassuring smile to Elsa.

“Caro - Fitz. No. You come with me.” Elsa put her hand on Fitz’s arm and squeezed.

“I can’t, dearest. But I shall be up soon.”

“Dearie, do what yer fella says. You don’t wanna be here when we teach ‘im a lesson.”

Fitz took Elsa’s hand off her arm and gently kissed her palm. “Please, go upstairs.”

“I won’t …”

“Go.” Fitz turned Elsa around and guided her to the staircase. “I shall be right up. You must trust me.”

Elsa sighed but nodded and then ran up the stairs.

*******

Fitz turned back and walked slowly to where militia men were standing. She placed her hand on the pommel of the sword at her side. “Now do we have a problem, gentlemen?”

“No boy, it’s you who is got the problem. You don’t got no manners. Don’t respect the military.” Both tables of the militia got to their feet and closed in around Fitz. “Seems you need a lesson.”

“If you ill-mannered buffoons are representative of the military here, then I don’t see why I should.” She looked around at the men surrounding her. “Cowardly as well, I see.” She poked the ringleader in his chest. “If you can’t stand up for yourself.”

“Mind your words boy. I’ll wipe the floor wid you.”

“Outside! Outside!” the man at the bar yelled. “No fighting in here.”

Fitz nodded at the owner. “Of course, my good man.” She started for the door, forcing her way through the circle of men. “Come now, if you’re so impatient to school me. If you are not a coward,” she remarked over her shoulder as she made her exit.

Once outside she looked carefully at the ground surrounding the tavern. It was dirt, packed by the near constant foot traffic. A good 20 feet was clear and hard, stone and root free, but she wouldn’t need that much. There was a set of posts set off to the right, likely for horses. Fitz carefully folded her coat and placed it atop one. She heard the raucous group coming out the door.  She turned and watched them assemble.

“Do you have a second?” Fitz called. She unsheathed her sword rechecking its balance in her hand. It was far and wide the finest sword she had ever held, and it felt like an extension of her arm, a very sharp deadly extension. Steel that was said to be able to cut through other lesser swords. And a gift from her beloved. She would use it well today.

“Loike I need a second, boy.”

Fitz rolled her shoulders feeling her suspenders move and her shirt pull up from its tuck. She would not have to worry about those binding. She noted the traditional military style suspenders on her opponent, two shoulder straps coming together to one strap in the rear. His well muscled arms became apparent as he shed his heavy jacket and tossed it to one of his fellows standing near. His shirt was plain, no stock, as none was necessary with his uniform’s high collar. A collar his thick neck strained against as he brought his sword to the ready.

Fitz brought her blade up in a salute and was not the least bit surprised when the larger man rushed at her with a roar. It was a shame, she thought, she never got his name.

The larger man swung at her head clearly intending a saber cut. He was surprised when Fitz countered by merely moving her head, arm and blade in a quarter turn, interposing her sword between his and her face. Her arm moved back several inches with the force of the blow, but she did not flinch, and he could not reach her. He could not overpower her block even even he leaned in with his heavier body. She blocked his next blow, too, one to the other side of her head, simply by moving her blade, again catching his edge with the flat of her weapon. Her expression was impassive, and if she was working to keep him from reaching her she didn’t show it.

This continued for several long minutes. He tried moving more quickly, swiftly slashing from side to side. He tried varying shots from her head to her body and even one or two to her legs. As he increased his pace his blows had less force, but Fitz knew they were actually more deadly. Finally he tried a lunge at her chest. Fitz allowed his blade to run up hers, deftly deflecting it so it just passed her shoulder. She stopped him when they were hilt to hilt waited until he tried to overpower her one last time and then asked, as they were nose to nose, “Are you done with your lesson?”

When he responded with another grunt and push, she replied, “Good. Now I shall begin mine.”

Fitz pushed back with her weapon but then dropped and ducked under her opponents blade as she disengaged. She turned behind him, and she brought her blade across his back leaving a shallow cut that parted both his suspenders and shirt and left a bloody score in its wake.

The man snarled in pain and whirled. He started a flurry of attacks that Fitz parried while backing up slowly to keep him at range. Then she changed trajectory, abruptly stepping to his left. When he moved his sword to follow her, she feinted a lunge before continuing behind him bringing the tip of her sword across his left side. He swore as blood seeped onto his ruined shirt, but whirled keeping his blade between them. Fitz started a series of slashes at his face and then with a firm double beat dropped her blade. He was forced to block across his body, blade down. Fitz extended and the force of his own block drove her point across his right side. He grunted in pain, and then started a long paragraph of foul language as his pants, no longer held by his suspenders, dropped down around his boots. Fitz thanked whoever was in heaven that he was wearing drawers even if they were not especially clean.

“You bloody cow’s cunt,” the larger man swore. Tripping forward he struck out again at Fitz. This time Fitz easily blocked his blade, disengaged and then performed a backhanded thrust through his hand guard and into his wrist. His hand spasmed and he dropped his sword. Fitz pushed on his hip with her own sending him sprawling. As he went down on his back she kicked his sword aside and then put her left boot on his chest, the point of her sword right over his heart.

“This is not a bloody game,” Fitz said quietly. “It’s life and death. Right now your death.”

“Please,” the larger man begged.

“A quick death here.” Fitz poked at his chest and was rewarded with a small spot of blood that grew slowly. Then she dragged her sword down to his belly, leaving a thin line spreading red, this cut no deeper than the other superficial slashes bleeding into the dirt. “A much less quick death here. Although I will have the pleasure of imagining the pain you will be in as you die, your insides stinking and festering.”

“Please.”

“Or maybe,” Fitz’s blade dropped lower. “I just —”

“Captain Fitzwilliam! Stop that nonsense and come here instantly.” Charlotte’s voice rang out from the doorway.

Fitz sighed and brought her sword up. “You are saved by my employer’s dulcet tones. But I do hope you take your lesson from this.” Then with a nod to his fellows who were standing nearby, eyes wide, afraid to come any closer, she sheathed her sword and walked to the Comtesse.

“Your Excellency, how may I serve you.”

“You can get your arse inside before I have to take a horsewhip to you.”

“I was defending a lady’s honor.” Fitz offered her arm.

“I know what you were doing you idiot. Inside.”

Charlotte dragged Fitz inside and to the bar. Once there she dropped a small pile of gold coins in front of the tavern owner.

“I will thank you in advance for your discretion. And I would appreciate it if after these fine people finish their dinners, you might close for the night.”

“Oh, but nights my best time for business —  with the drinking and all.”

Charlotte added more coins to the pile.

“How could I ever refuse a lady such as you, your Grace?”

“Good. And if you would bring dinner and two bottles —  no four bottles — of your best wine upstairs to my room.”

***************

“How much of a simpleton are you?” Charlotte turned on Fitz once they were in her room. “I am sure the news of a brilliant duelist who humiliated a man at the “Drunken Ox,” or whatever this hellhole is called is not going to remain a secret. We were trying to be discreet.”

“Spotted Cow,” Elsa corrected, then she turned on Fitz, “Carolina, what did you do to that man?”

“He needed a lesson both in swordplay and in how not to offend a lady.”

“But did you …”

Charlotte cut Elsa off. “And you. What in god’s earth were you doing? First you freeze the forest, and then you go unaccompanied into a bar! Women do NOT go into a bar alone unless they want that — ” Charlotte waved her hand  “ — sort of attention.”

Elsa ignored the Comtesse,“I will not have you dueling in my name!”

“Do you not understand that the number of women in the world who can produce ice magically is somewhat limited?”

“Luv, I will not have wretched scum insulting you or any woman.”

“You promised not to duel.”

“In Arendelle. I will not slay your subjects, which really isn’t a problem since they do not insult you. But here this is what one does unless one is a coward.”

“For god’s sake, the two of you. Shut up!” Charlotte raised her voice as much as she felt was wise. “You,” she pointed at Fitz, “Keep that damn —

sword in your sheath until we need it. You,” now Charlotte pointed at Elsa,“Fitz does these things for some god forsaken sense of honor that she holds dear, and that she doesn’t in your kingdom is quite a measure of her love. Also please don’t freeze things.”

Fitz’s tone turned to contrition,“It was my fault, Charlotte. I shouldn’t have left her alone for so long. And she’s never been in a tavern, well one that doesn’t have her portrait on the wall.” She was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Discreet,” Charlotte muttered, as she gestured for Fitz to open the door. It was a pair chamber maids knocking. They carried both the wine and their dinner, two roast chickens with potatoes and some cabbage dish. “Discreet,” she said again pouring herself a large glass of wine once the maids had left. “A discreet surveillance of the castle. Discreetly making our way into the bosom of Ledsham.” She glared at Fitz. “Georg is in his room NOT causing a fuss. So you will at least tell us what you found. Then you can go tell him dinner is served.”

Fitz took Elsa’s hand in hers and addressed the queen directly. She noted Elsa was again wearing the gloves. “It is very highly likely Anna and Kristoff are here. There are an inordinate number of guards. Two different regiments by the look of it. One being Ledsham’s own, which numbers about fifty men and two sergeants in its permanent full-time configuration and nearly one hundred with three officers at full strength. Then there is another, formed of the same blackguards who accosted you, in those black uniforms. They don’t belong to Ledsham. I don’t recognize them as any regiment from Avalon, and I know them all.”

“What?” Charlotte was surprised.

“Foreign or mercenaries, or quite probably both.” Fitz now turned to Charlotte. “That’s expensive and supports the idea that something in that castle is important enough to guard. That in turn suggests that Anna and Kristoff…” Fitz hesitated, ”That they are well enough to need guarding.”

“Thank goodness,” breathed Elsa, relief evident in her voice.

“Indeed,” agreed Charlotte.

Fitz continued, “We spent most of the day watching the front gate. It’s locked shut and under guard.”

“Not the best news, even if it supports your previous theory.” Charlotte tapped her lips with her forefinger.

“But in the morning, from quite early until almost noon, there is a lot of traffic. Food deliveries and what not. And some servants aren’t resident, so they are coming in as well. ”

“I would bet substantial sums that the guards get tired of unlocking and locking the gate. Plus there will be the confusion of two chains of command.”

“Indeed,” Fitz agreed, “Although the guard will be composed of the best men.”

“At let’s say, 7 am? Do you think the sergeant will reward his best men with an 7 am watch?”

“I would. If the mission needed my best.”

“Yes, and I note you were an excellent officer. In your opinion is that true of Ledsham’s?”

Fitz thought and then shook her head no. What she recalled included capricious orders and blatant favoritism. Of course any unit reflected it’s head. A head that in this case might well be decorating the King’s outer bailey.

“And at any rate,” Charlotte stated, “I would certainly favor my grit in a battle of wills against any non-commissioned foot-soldier.”

Fitz chuckled, “Indeed, they do not stand a chance.”

Elsa was still thinking of Anna and Kristoff. “They are alive, and we’ve found them.” She felt tears of relief welling in her eyes. Fitz pulled her close into a hug and stroked her hair. “And now we will get them back.”

A/N: Art by Comickergirl; Patronage by @grrlgeek72, who was also the fine hostess at my artistic retreat when I was able to walk, think, visit the lake, and most importantly write. Proofing by @grrlgeek72 and @thegeekogecko, but all errors are because I ignored them adn continued to write.

[ericadownunderpart2]

Singapore, living the glossy life!

In the immortal words of Boyz II Men, “we have come to the end of the road”.  Final post.  Sorry it’s a bit late.  No, I did not die in Singapore.  I made it home safely and then got too lazy to post about it.  Apologies.  Anyway, Singapore is amazing, Alicia is the best tour guide/host ever and I have so much to tell you...

Day 1: Bright lights and the red lights

After a 6 hour flight from Cairns to Singapore, I was thrilled to be met at the airport by my dear friend Alicia, who I grew up with in Milwaukee (Brew City baby!) and has been one of my best friends ever since.  She has been living in Singapore for the past year and a half for work and was the hostess with the mostest on the Singapore leg of my journey.  On a side note, the Singapore airport is a dream.  Which I can not say for any other airport...in existence anywhere.  A dream.

Seriously!?!  This is what the airport looks like!?!  Amazing.

After a much needed real sleep, in a real apartment, with a real shower, Alicia planned a fabulous day out on the town for us.  One of the things that I love about Singapore is the truly international feel to it.  It is awesome to be in a place where people of color are the majority.  And I mean, all kinds of color.  Very “We are the world” in a non- Coca-cola commercial way!  We were able to explore Little India, Chinatown and Arab Street on our weekend adventure.  It was like taking a world tour without needing to go through customs.  Awesome.

In general, Singapore has to be one of the cleanest, safest and most impressive cities I’ve ever seen, with massive skyscrapers, high rise apartments and beautiful tropical parks.  It has some of the most iconic buildings in Asia and waterfronts to match.  As Alicia calls it, it is truly “Asia 101,″ with the ease of navigation and picturesque city living that makes weak-sauce American travelers feel right at home.  But with a distinctly cultural feel, that keeps it interesting.  This may come at the cost of what could be seen as a slightly oppressively lawful and regulatory state with clear social castes and displays of extreme wealth, but from an outsiders perspectives, it seems pretty congenial.

Chinatown

Little India, preparing for Dewali celebrations

Alicia and I started our Singaporian adventure with a stroll through a few of the ethnic neighborhoods of the city and high tea at the Flower Garden by the Bay.  An amazing garden dome overlooking the famous Bay, Botanical Gardens and the iconic Marina Bay Sands (boat) hotel.

Why don’t we have high tea in America?  It is the best thing ever.  Fancy tea, an excuse to get dressed up, drink tea, champagne and coffee while eating adorable and delicious tiny snacks.  So many little sammies and desserts.  This is what it must be like to be rich and/or famous.  I am going to try harder to be both in the future.

Flower Dome by the Bay

I am almost certain it is against some sort of cultural or actual law to take picture of Buddhist Monks, but they were so photo-ready, stopping to smell the flowers.  I apologize to Buddhists everywhere.

Following our high tea, we strolled through the iconic Marina Bay Sands area , with the classic Singaporean skyline, the park with the incredible “supertree” sculptures and the impressive skyscrapers of the “downtown” district.

On Saturday night, Alicia arranged an awesome tour of the infamous legalized Red Light Districts in Singapore.  The Geylang district.  This is perplexing to me, because Singapore has A LOT of rules.  Rules for all kinds of things that probably don’t even need rules.  There are cameras everywhere and security guards and posted signs outlining the numerous things you are not able to do.  But prostitution, totally legal...well, within a complex set of rules that is.

But not surprisingly, like most of Singapore, even the Red Light district was, totally glossy.  In fact, it was one of the nicest, cleanest “skectchy” neighborhoods I have seen in a city the size of Singapore.  I felt entirely safe and in fact, a little disappointed by the severe lack of seediness in the area.  I would gladly sit down and have a cup of tea on any of the Red Light district’s corners.

Our tour guide, a lovely lady who calls the Gelong her home and is an advocate for the neighborhood, showed us around and introduced us to the complicated, complex and fascinated issues of the area and policies.  

Alicia, me, Angela, Kathe and our amazing Gelong advocate and tour guide (center). 

In classic Singapore style, they figured out that the best way to control illegal activity is to legalize and regulate the practice.  There are strict regulations for brothels and an intense level of camera and police surveillance to limit the non-legal (i.e. streetwalking) activities.  What does that do?  Create a totally chill and clean and glossy red light district.  Not to say, that the area doesn’t have it’s fair share of drugs and sexual exploitation that are problematic, but it does at the very least, give off an air of controlled chaos.  And with the advent of the internet and increased policing, whatever debauchery that was once the scene, has now moved indoors, giving way to a charming and safe feeling street scene.  You could probably eat off the streets here and as it turns out, some of the best restaurants in town can be found here.  Fascinating.

Speaking of eating off the street. Our fun tour group stopped after the tour for a delicious authentic Chinese dinner...and for a Singaporean delicacy, Durian fruit.  Durian fruit is known for its horrendous smell and odd savory and sweet flavor that to me resembles a garlic-y citrus fruit that smells like rotting flesh and is the consistency of lumpy pudding.  The ladies were sure I needed to try it.  So I put on  a pair of protective gloves, held my nose and dived in.  It tastes better than it smells, but that isn’t saying all that much.  It’s not terrible, but I don’t think I would spend the $100+ price tag per Durian  to eat it for funsies again.  But it was ...an experience.  Across Asia, although considered a prized delicacy for many, it has actually been banned from carrying on public transportation in Singapore, Thailand and Hong King due to the offensive smell.  Of our group of die hard Singaporeans and longtime ex-pats, everyone was excited to have a bite, but no one wanted to have it in their refrigerator.  Enough said.

Durian...it smells like it looks...disgusting.

We concluded our evening with a stroll  through Alicia’s neighborhood all-night food market, called the Hawkers Center, which we hit up another day, when not full on rancid forbidden fruit.

Day 2: Rain...bringer of mud and magic

The next day brought the monsoons, or as they refer to them in Singapore, light rain.  :)  We headed inside to check out the National Museum of Singapore, which houses amazing art by Singaporean and other neighboring Asian country artists.  Absolutely amazing.  It is housed in some of the former judicial and state buildings on the island.  It was extremely well done and an interesting glimpse into the marriage of formal, western art forms with the history and traditionas of Singapore melded in.  Absolutely stunning.

With a break in the weather we took a break on the rooftop bar to have a “Singapore Sling” overlooking the amazing Marina Bay Sands hotel and the Durian inspired performing arts center.  Everything in Singapore continues to be absolutely clean, picturesque and stunning to behold.  Even if you are not into the glossy, modern skyscraper skyline, you can’t help but be overtaken by the awe-inspiring views and intentionality of the perfect skyline.  (think real life Sim City!...yep, hitting you with that 90s nerd reference)

We then decided to hit up the beautiful (and free!) UNESCO world heritage site of the Singapore Botanic Gardens.  It is a huge botanic park filled with amazing trees and flowers, animals, walking paths  and lakes.  

Alicia and I, in search of otters and turtles ventured to check out the Eco-lake on the grounds.  Due to some recent drought, the water levels were low, which meant that Alicia and I were going to take advantage of this to get up close and personal with the local turtles hanging out in the mud flats. We bounded over the mud on a crash course to say hey to the turtles, when to our dismay realized that the mud was in fact, quicksand, and we immediately sinking into it, fearing our imminent doom.  Ok, quicksand might be a bit of an exaggeration, but I did see my life flash before my eyes and by the time we pulled ourselves out of the mud, one of Alicia’s flipflops had become an unwanted victim to the mud.

This became the next phase of our adventure.  You will not be surprised that we raised a few eyebrows, tramping through the beautiful park, completely covered in mud and with Alicia barefoot.  As I mentioned, Singapore has a lot of rules and I am sure we were in violation of at least 5-10 of them.  We managed to find a miracle bathroom that had some sort of foot washing/hose situation that we could clean up in.  Again, not exactly the intended use, I’m sure and a bit eyebrow raising (again) for the locals, but a god-send.  We did manage to locate a giftshop with a quite extensive flipflop selection (leading me to believe we were not the first victims of the “quicksand lake of flipflop death.”)  We located new footwear for Alicia and headed on our dirty and merry way.

We ended our day the way we had started the previous one, checking out the neighborhoods that give Singapore such an enticing appeal.  We headed to Haji Lane, which is part of the Arab district of the city for some delicious Lebanese food.  Haji Lane really feels like a magical place, with colorful shops  and restaurants lining the back alleys and live music and delicious smells and lively sounds.  This was one of the highlights of the trip.  A great place for two old friends to catch up.

Haji Lane (Arab Street neighborhood) 

All in all, a magical trip to Singapore to end a magical trip.  After almost 3 weeks on the road, I was both incredibly sad to leave and happy to sleep in my own bed.  After getting stranded for a few hours in Seoul on the long trip taking me from Singapore to Seoul, Korea, to Las Vegas to home, I was so happy after 32 hours in transit to be back on Minneostan soil.  Thanks to all of you for coming along with me on my journey and to all of you that showed me kindness and hospitality along the way. 

(PS  Full disclosure, basically of the photos that look half way decent from this post were Alicia’s.  Thanks for investing in a phone/camera from this decade!)

[lilacmoon83]

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 161: Clarity

After her little confrontation with Sabine, Victoria returned to Belfry tower and used the freight elevator to take her to the secret, restricted floor high in the building. Her heels clicked on the floor, as she walked purposefully toward the darkened corner by a vent fan. Gothel looked up at her through her matted hair with a smirk.

"Let me guess...hope and belief are returning to certain residents of Hyperion Heights. I told you what would happen if they were together…you should have eliminated them," she hissed.

"You know very well why we cannot just kill them. I need their power...or my Anastasia will never draw breath again," Victoria responded.

"Yet if they come back into their power...I'm doomed, not that you care in the least," Gothel growled. Victoria smirked.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're just collateral damage, which suits me just fine. It's time to begin the next faze and force them to awaken my daughter. And you're going to help me," Victoria said, as she grasped the woman's chain. Gothel smirked.

"I don't think so...there is a reckoning upon us and soon I shall be free to finish what I started," Gothel warned. Victoria smirked.

"You are never getting rid of these chains, witch. You haven't heard yet...but I just learned that there has been a murder. I believe she was one of your witch friends?" Victoria questioned, as she showed the other woman the headline from her phone that was already trending in the city. Gothel frowned.

"They're saying it's tragic...but if they knew what I do about her and that she was part of your little cult that wishes to extinguish all that oppose you, then they'd probably be calling it justice," she said. Gothel snarled at her and pulled at her chains, as she tried to advance on Victoria, but the other woman smirked smugly, for the witch was well trapped by her bonds.

"Someone is hunting witches...enjoy the time you have left," she said, as she walked away, leaving Gothel seething in rage.

~*~

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Clayton screamed, as he chucked a glass at Nick, which he ducked and it shattered on the wall behind him.

"Some would say so...but I'm just a man with a mission, much like you, Collector," he responded calmly. Clayton seethed in barely contained rage, as he pounded his clenched fists on the desk. Little did either of them know, Cassidy Gold was listening to the entire thing from outside the office. But due to the closed door, the voices were muffled. Still...Clayton was obviously extremely agitated by this man, so he would report this meeting to Weaver.

"Look...I've been dormant long enough. And no one will miss the filthy little witch. I'm doing everyone a favor by eliminating her kind," Nick hissed. Clayton clutched his phone and showed him the trending headline.

"I don't care that she's dead...she was insignificant. But you could have made it look like an accident or something. This is too much attention!" he growled. Nick scoffed.

"No...an accident wouldn't do. Only the spilling of her blood can extinguish the evil of her kind," he replied. Clayton clenched his teeth.

"I do not care about what the madness in your head is telling you to do...you work for me and now you've potentially exposed yourself like a vein! You're my attorney! If you are caught...then Nolan will have no trouble connecting us," Clayton reminded.

"Nolan won't figure it out...I left no forensic trace," Nick assured.

"You're not getting it!" Clayton snapped.

"You don't know David Nolan like I do! A brutal murder of a young woman...he won't stop until he finds who is responsible and then I'll be implicated, because of your psychotic need to cut people up!" he shouted.

"Not people...witches. Believe me...there's a difference," Nick spat. Clayton pinched the bridge of his nose in utter frustration.

"You're still not getting it...we don't need this much attention right now," he said. Nick smirked.

"Then maybe it's time to make sure Detective Nolan is put out of commission," he replied.

"You know why we can't kill him!" Clayton snapped. Nick scoffed.

"All because of that stupid chalice...it's power is just as evil as any witch. But soon...it won't be a problem any more," he responded. A chill went down Clayton's spine at that.

"What have you done?" he questioned. Nick just shrugged and exited the office. Cassidy Gold watched him go and then took his phone out, before dialing the only programmed number in the burner phone.

"It's me...I need to see you," he said, as he listened to his instructions and then hung up.

~*~

David arrived at the scene and Rogers already had it taped off with crime scene tape. He showed his badge to the officer on guard and slipped under the tape.

"What do we know so far?" he asked, as Rogers handed over the woman's identification.

"Christine Jensen, 26…" Rogers stated.

"Any sign of sexual assault?" David asked.

"We won't know for sure until the coroner is done with autopsy, but it doesn't look like it. Just killed...perhaps she refused to give up her purse," he suggested, as David examined the brutal scene.

"I don't think so…" he said.

"Why do you say that?" Rogers asked.

"Just a hunch, but it's a lot of blood for a random victim. A bullet is a less mess, not to mention, he had to get one hell of grip on her to slit the carotid artery. It's a risky way kill...even in an abandoned garage. It would have required a lot more effort to make sure they didn't leave forensics behind," David deduced.

"Then you think she was targeted?" Rogers asked. The blonde nodded.

"It's what my gut is telling me," David replied, as he noticed something something on her back and peeled her shirt up, revealing a symbol that had been carved into her flesh at the small of her back.

"Bloody hell...I've seen that before," Rogers uttered.

"Where?" David questioned, as he motioned the forensic analyst over and had them take pictures of it.

"It's...it's a missing case I've been struggling with for years. Eloise Gardener...this symbol was in the girl's sketch book that we recovered from the initial crime scene. But we could never find her...it's a cold case. I was fresh out of the academy," Rogers explained.

"It definitely could be connected. Can you go back to the station and get the original case file?" David asked.

"Sure…" Rogers replied, as he headed off, while David continued to look around the garage. He looked around the woman's car and looked underneath it. With a gloved hand, he reached under and retrieved a piece of fabric, which did not match the victim's clothing.

"I need an evidence bag!" he called, as the forensic analyst complied. It was a piece of flannel, likely from a shirt, which kind of puzzled him even more. The scene was clean of most forensic evidence. He was pretty sure they weren't going to get anything from the body or the scene. And yet, the killer was careless enough to leave a piece of fabric behind? It didn't make any sense, so he continued to go through the car, starting with the glove box. He pilfered through the contents and found a napkin with a phone number on it. It was from a coffee shop called the Twisted Bean. A date gone bad, perhaps? He took out his phone and dialed the number, waiting for someone to answer.

"Hello Detective," a garbled voice said from the other end.

"Who is this?" David demanded to know.

"A proper introduction can't be done over the phone, but if you want to know, you'll come to the Fremont Troll bridge. If I'm not mistaken, it's not far from the waterfront that overlooks the cliff where you lost your dear Margaret...or thought you lost her," the voice said. He went rigid, for he had no idea how this person knew any of that. And as dangerous as he knew it probably was, he was going to figure this out.

"Fine...I'll be there in thirty," he answered, as he hung up his phone and after making sure the crime scene was secure, he hurried back to his truck.

~*~

Roni was just finishing cleaning some glassware when she noticed an envelope laying on the floor, having been slipped under the door of the bar. Curiously, she picked it up and opened it. Inside, she found a photo and instantly became puzzled. It was in front of a place called Granny's diner. It was a picture of David, Mary, herself, Iris, Bobby, her sister Kelly, her niece Margot, and then four other adults she didn't recognize and a youth around Iris' age. A handsome man that had his arm around her waist. And the other three, a young man and two young women, were huddled around David and Mary. And the other youth was between her and the man. She shook her head.

"What is this?" she muttered.

"Curious...isn't it?" Ivy questioned, as she walked into the bar.

"What the hell do you want?" Roni snapped, as she did a shot.

"Well, this is a bar and I just came in for a drink. Even if the bartender is surly," Ivy quipped.

"And I own this bar, so I get to choose who I serve and who I don't," she responded.

"Oh, now don't be like that...it's really my mother you hate. Believe me, we have that in common," Ivy replied.

"Fine…" Roni said, as she poured two more shots and then looked down at the picture, trying to make sense of it. She had never been to some diner called Granny's and she didn't know some of these people. She had only met Mary recently and David a couple years ago when he investigated a break in at her bar. While she wasn't looking, Ivy slipped something into Roni's shot and the other woman knocked it back. Ivy smirked, as she blinked her eyes and stumbled slightly.

"What...the hell?" she stammered, as she gripped the bar and memories assaulted her. Everything...meeting Snow, Daniel's death, marrying the King, becoming the Evil Queen. Then the curse...and how dissatisfying her revenge was. Then Robin...and the Charmings going from enemies to family. Then this new curse. She gasped, as she remembered her last memory with her husband and son.

~*~

"Are you sure about this? I can stay behind…" she said. Robin smiled.

"It's all right...besides, Roland and I are going on a father/son camping trip this weekend, you know before he up and leaves us behind for college," Robin replied. She smiled.

"It's just Boston...we'll see him and talk to him all the time," she reminded. He sighed.

"I know," he agreed, as he kissed her.

"Go...Lucy will love seeing you and just tell her that her great Uncle Robin is sorry he missed this one, but I'll be there next time," he said. Regina smiled.

"She'll understand and it's just a birthday, so I'm sure we'll only be gone a few days at most," she replied.

"Well…I'll miss you anyhow," he said, as they kissed again.

"Me too," she agreed.

~*~

Her eyes were wide and her mouth was ajar, as it all came rushing back. Robin and Roland were back in Storybrooke, safe, but in a future Storybrooke. Lucy's eighth birthday had turned into the day they had all been cursed again. She looked at the photo and then up at Ivy, who was staring at her smugly.

"Welcome back…" she greeted.

"You…" Regina snarled. Drizella smirked.

"Don't be too upset...your precious Robin and Roland are safe, though I'm sure they're wondering what happened to you. But I think it's the Charmings you should worry about…" she responded. Regina remembered everything from that night when Lucy's birthday party turned from a celebration into chaos. Gothel, the witch Aphrodite had feared so much, showed up and wrecked complete havoc, including freeing Drizella and Clayton from their stone prisons. And then...the curse. She remembered pleading with Summer to use her bubbles to keep herself and Bobby with their parents. At least that had partially worked. But then she remembered Emma...and her eyes widened in shock.

"Then you do remember...which is why I awoke you," Ivy said. Regina growled and reached for the other woman's throat, but Ivy simple stepped back and chuckled.

"Those two idiots are getting too close...they don't remember what the consequences of breaking this curse are. You need to remind them…" she said.

"We'll find a way," Regina insisted. Ivy smirked.

"No...you won't. It's a choice, Regina and when they remember, they'll make the choice to leave the curse in tact," she replied, as she turned and left, just as Summer and Bobby came into the bar with Mary following them.

"What did she want?" Mary asked, but Roni didn't answer, for she could only stare blankly at the bar.

"Roni?" Mary asked, as the woman finally looked up at her and she saw realization.

"Not Roni," she replied. Mary gasped.

"Regina?" she cried, as tears filled both women's eyes.

"Snow…" she choked, as they hugged tightly.

"Nana…" Summer asked. The tears fell then and she nodded.

"Nana!" Bobby called, as the both of them dove into Regina's arms.

"I missed you," Summer said.

"Me too," Bobby added.

"I missed you both too," Regina sniffed, as she suddenly noticed that Snow was putting a hand to her heart.

"Snow?" Regina asked.

"It's David...he's in danger," she uttered.

"You can feel him again?" she asked. She didn't think it was possible in a place without magic, but then again, she supposed she needed to consider the source. Her step-daughter and her husband had long ago defied any limitations or logic when it came to their true love.

"You two stay here...I have to find your father," she said, as she rushed out.

"Snow...wait!" Regina cried and sighed, as she disappeared out the door.

"Mom will find him," Summer said confidently, though she was suddenly very worried about her dad.

"Yeah...Mom always finds him," Bobby confirmed, though he, too, was worried.

"I know...but I'm not sure what she's going to find when she does," Regina replied, as she dialed a number on her phone.

"Rogers...it's Roni. I think Mary and David might be in trouble. If Weaver is able to ping his phone, then he should do it. You need to find them," Roni told him.

~*~

Enchanted Forest 3

Storybrooke Year - 2021

With the battle won and Lady Tremaine forced into hiding, Tiana prepared to take command of her Kingdom. There would be a coronation eventually, but for now, much work on stabilizing the Kingdom was underway.

Assuring Snow and David that they had done more than enough, they and their extended family prepared to use a bean to return to Storybrooke. Emma and Neal were struggling a bit with letting go, but knew that Henry had his own life now and were happy that he was falling in love. As for Alice, they had convinced her to return to Storybrooke with them, as they would now begin researching a way to cure Hook's poisoned heart. She was still very weary though.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked.

"Of course...we're going to figure this out," Emma assured.

"She's right, starfish...believe me, I've seen it. When this family decides they're going to do something, nothing stops them," Killian told her. Alice still looked a bit uncertain, but they had all been so welcoming.

"Don't worry, Tower Girl...I'll show you the ropes back home," Jade offered, as the two shared a look. Killian smiled at her with encouragement.

"Daylight is dwindling...we should get the Roger out to sea with the tide," he suggested. Snow and David nodded, as they hugged Henry and Ella.

"Please don't wait so long to visit…" Snow pleaded. Henry smiled.

"Don't worry Grams, we'll visit very soon," he promised.

"And we'll be back too," David promised, as he hugged him too.

"I'll take care of him," Ella promised, as she hugged Snow.

"Oh, I know you will," the raven haired beauty replied, as David hugged her next. Emma sighed, as she faced letting him go again.

"I'll be fine, Mom...and we have that mirror that Grandpa Gold conjured for us. We can magical Skype all the time," he reminded.

"I know...but I'll still miss you, kid," she replied, as they hugged fiercely. Neal was next and put his forehead against his son's.

"Take care of yourself and you better be using that mirror all the time," he stressed. Henry smiled.

"I will, Dad," he said, as his Aunts and Uncles hugged him next. Finally, all the goodbyes were said and they boarded the Jolly Roger. Henry and Ella waved to them, as they made it out to sea and the ship disappeared through a portal.

~*~

Hyperion Heights

David arrived at the Fremont Troll bridge and killed the engine, before getting out. He pulled his gun and grabbed his flashlight, before cautiously approaching the seemingly deserted area. There was a clapping sound, like something falling from above. He shined his light up, as a figure dropped from above behind him. David turned to aim his weapon, but the assailant was ready and kicked him in the chest. The gun flew out of his hand and landed a few feet away. But surprisingly, the perpetrator didn't go for it and instead, lifted David up by his shirt. He was masked and had a medium build. He punched David, who countered with one of his own in return, as they grappled along the pavement. His attacker then pulled a knife and swiped at him. David dodged while backing up and rain began to fall, quickly soaking them and making it very difficult to see. With a cheap shot to his knees, the assailant kicked him and David rolled down a muddy hill nearby. The figure stood above him on the hill.

"They want you alive...but let's see if we can put you back in that coma and out of the way where you can't interfere," the man muttered in a garbled voice. Before he could descend on the prone detective, he saw flashing lights and cursed, as he slipped into the shadows.

Mary parked Roni's car and got out, instantly getting drenched by the rain. She cursed, as she tried to use her phone's flashlight, which wasn't much help in the misty rain.

"David!" she called, as the rain poured down on her in sheets.

"DAVID!" she cried in a frightened voice, as her breathing came in ragged gasps. Her heart hammered in her chest and she tried to calm down long enough to listen to it. She let it lead her legs toward the edge of the bridge where it dipped down to a steep hill. And her half heart jumped into her throat, as she saw him lying at the bottom of the hill in a puddle of water, face down.

"No...no...no...no…" she cried repeatedly in a panic, as she stumbled down the hill, nearly tumbling herself. She reached him and pulled him onto his back, before cupping his face.

"No...don't you dare do this to me again!" she cried, as she breathed air into his mouth. When nothing happened after the first breath she did it again and pressed her hand to his chest.

"Charming please…" she sobbed, as she breathed for him again. Finally, he took a starved breath of air and coughed up a little water.

"Oh thanks Gods…" Snow cried, as she cradled his head and he looked up at her in awe.

"Oh my love…" she sniffed, as she kissed his forehead. He stared at her through blurry vision, as the images played through his mind like a movie. He saw them next to a bridge, much like they were now, and saw himself staring at her in awe, as she put his ring on. Snow watched him fumble for her hand and find the same ring on her finger that was in the vision in his head. He looked back at her and then at the ring again, as he touched it. He gasped and shuddered, as it all came rushing back to him in a frenzy of flashes. His head felt like it was on fire the entire time and his breathing began ragged, as he took it all in.

"David...please say something. Talk to me," she said fearfully. She immediately worried that maybe the fall had given him amnesia. Or maybe the person that had done this had found a way to give him curse memories. It was her worst fear. What if he had forgotten her again? She didn't know if she could take that. The last two years without him had been torture and she had only been herself half the time. Now that she was not splitting between herself and Mary, she was sure her half heart would shatter if he really had forgotten her.

"David…" she cried, fearing the worst when he didn't say anything.

"Snow…" he uttered, as he looked up at her like she was everything. Her breath caught.

"What?" she asked, wondering if she had heard right or if her heart was just playing a cruel trick on her.

"Snow…" he repeated, as their eyes locked and block that the curse had between them was gone. She could feel him again, in her heart, her mind, and soul. She didn't know how it was possible with the curse still in tact, but she didn't give a damn. He remembered...he was back.

"Charming?" she asked, even as the rain continued to pour down on them.

"Yes...it's me. You found me," he replied. She hummed in relief

"Did you ever doubt I would?" she asked, as she hugged him fiercely and he managed to sit up. He managed to get to his feet and helped her up, before pulling her flush against him and kissing her fiercely. The kiss was passionate, soul searing, and heart souring, as their reunion became complete. Snow pressed her forehead against his and no longer cared that they were soaking wet and muddy. She was in his arms again. He was awake and the torture of the last two years not having him were over. At that, she broke down crying and he pillowed her against his chest.

"I'm here, my darling...I'm here," he whispered. She shook her head, almost afraid to believe it was all real.

"For the last two years...my life was complete hellish insanity. But you...you were always my clarity," she confessed.

"And you saved me…again," he reminded, as he held her face in his hands.

"I felt it...the block between us is gone, even though the curse isn't broken. I...I don't know what that means...but I felt it when you were in danger," she replied, as she gasped then and looked around.

"David...where is the person that did this to you?" she asked.

"I'm not sure...he was wearing a mask and he's a killer. That's why I got called in. To help Rogers. It was a murder scene...I don't recognize the victim, but this guy seemed to know things he shouldn't," he replied.

"And he thinks you'll catch him so he tried to kill you!" she realized.

"Shh...I'm okay, thanks to my amazing, incredible, and stunningly beautiful wife," he told her with reverence, as he looked down at her like she was his everything. Oh, how she had missed that look from him.

"Beautiful? I'm a mess...I probably look like a drowned rat," she complained. He chuckled. He scoffed.

"Please...you're the most beautiful thing I have ever and will ever see," he replied, as he crushed her lips against his again, simply drinking her in.

"David?!" they heard a familiar voice calling.

"Rogers…" he said.

"Killian...oh Gods David. Where is Emma?" she wondered. He gazed back at her, feeling just as lost as she was.

"I don't know...but we'll find her Snow. We'll find her," he promised, as they trekked up the steep hill.

"Bloody hell...what happened?" Rogers questioned.

"I think I had an encounter with our killer...but thankfully, Mary found me and saved me," he said, as he looked at her fondly. She had found him, in more ways than one.

"The killer got him with a knife. We need to get it looked at," Mary insisted.

"Dr Aeson was discreet last time we consulted her," Rogers suggested. David smiled at the prospect of seeing Eva.

"Yes, Dr. Aeson is the one we should go to. If the killer is this bold to attack a cop, then I think we better keep the press out if we can. A city wide panic that we have a serial killer is the last thing we need," David suggested.

"Do you really think this is serial? He's only killed once," Rogers reminded.

"Unfortunately, I'm almost certain that this man will kill again," David stayed gravely, as they headed for the hospital.

~*~

Baron Samdi poured himself a drink from his collection of expensive liquor and then one for his grandson, who was joining him for a nightcap.

"You've been quiet this evening," Baron mentioned.

"Just thinking about...everything. I have a good practice before all this, you know," Franklin mentioned.

"Yes...you should be proud," Baron agreed.

"I worked twice as hard as anyone else in my field to make something out of the tarnished legacy you left behind for me," he said bitterly.

"We have been over this...I am what I am and it is not my fault that the simpletons in this land don't appreciate my talents," Baron replied.

"And you think Snow White and Prince Charming's chalice can open their eyes?" Franklin questioned.

"Snow White and her Charming waste its power. In my hands...think of the things it could do. You want success...then this extraordinary object is the way…" Baron said, as he pressed a button on the underside of his desk. A panel slid back in the wall, revealing the chalice in its hiding place. Except, peculiarly, it was glowing and pulsing with white light.

"Is...is it supposed to be doing that?" Franklin asked.

"No...it should not be able to do that. It's not supposed to have power in this land...at least not until she changes this world," Baron uttered.

"Then why is it glowing?" Franklin asked. Baron knew it meant something significant had occurred with its owners, but couldn't be certain as to what. But whatever it was...it was not good for them...

[bike42]

Kentucky Derby Weekend April 29 – May 2, 2021

Wednesday evening, we took Sox the cat downtown to Bailey’s condo, then came home to pack (the cat hates to see suitcases).  I can pack for a hiking trip with my eyes practically closed, but this kind of trip took some thinking!  I had to match shoes, purses and jewelry to all of my outfits, and then of course there was my hat.  Since we’d decided to drive the 6+ hours to Louisville, space wasn’t an issue and we were able to load our car with hat boxes, a large bag of snacks, yoga mat, pillows and suitcases!

 We were up at 6am on Thursday, anxious to get going, and we were on the road just after 7am.  As we were packing last night, Jeff wondered if our iPass was in the new Audi – I thought it was, but we didn’t check.  We had decided to travel straight down through Illinois and skip the Chicago madness so I was thinking tolls wouldn’t be an issue anyway. But as we got to Janesville, we recalled we still had the one toll near Rockford, so I checked the glove box – the iPass was not there.  It had been in our old Audi, so I thought it was odd that we’d have moved it to the other car – we haven’t travelled to Illinois since February 2020.  Then Jeff said he thought he remembered that our new Audi has a built-in toll pass?!  I got out the manual and sure enough!  It led me through the steps to get it activated, and I was able to get it set up just moments before we hit the Illinois border.

 We had rain through most of Illinois, but decent traffic and no major slowdowns even though there was a lot of road construction. We turned east at Bloomington toward Danville, IL which started us reminiscing about our 2013 cycling trip down the length of the state.

 The trees were more leafed out than ours and it seemed to get greener with every mile we traveled.  As we got south of Indianapolis, we saw our first Waffle House, so we stopped the Waffle House in Taylorsville for our favorite breakfast (regardless of the time of day) when we’re in the south (waffles, eggs over easy, split a side of bacon).

 We arrived in Louisville and checked into the downtown Hilton Garden Inn just before 3pm. That left us ample downtime for yoga, naps, catching up email from the day, and showers before our 7pm dinner reservation at Vincenzo’s.

 So many experiences already on the trip feel novel, packing last night, a six-hour road trip, and now checking into the nicest hotel we’ve stayed in since February 2020. Once upside to the pandemic and its quarantine is the pure appreciation I have for the ability to travel again!

 The restaurant was an easy walk from the hotel, and even though we’d checked the weather app before we headed down from our room, we were surprised to have sprinkles on our faces when we stepped out onto the sidewalk. No worries, Jeff had his rain coat and I had my beautiful poncho that I’d bought in Paris two years ago on a rainy April day.

 We had a great leisurely dinner, four courses and a bottle of wine.  It was nice to be dressed up and out together again.  The staff and service were amazing, and we tried to chat a bit with the gentleman we thought was the proprietor (Vincenzo?), but he seemed to have limited English (or hearing).  We’d heard on the local news before going out that that town of Louisville was so excited about this week-end – several hotels and restaurants were booked full – and that’s news!  

  After dinner, we walked through the Fourth street party area, which was fairly subdued at 6:30pm but we expected it’d be hopping later. There was a friendly guy on the street having a cigarette, he was a beer salesman named Scott from Appleton, WI.  He was excited to tell us all about what to expect at the derby, how crowded this area should be right now (in a normal year), all the famous people he’d previously partied with here, etc.  He’d have gone on all night, but his wife was calling him from a nearby table telling him his dinner was getting cold!

 We had a lazy Friday morning, then we were out on the street at 9am to walk to waterfront park. Our hotel was a great location, and we found it was a beautiful day. It wasn’t long before we were peeling off layers. We walked along the Ohio river, east to the converted railroad bridge called the Big Four Bridge, the headed back. The river itself is muddy and filled with debris, but the Waterfront Park was fabulous. All of the people we encountered were so friendly – many greeting us with “Happy Derby!”

 We had tickets to tour the Louisville Slugger factory and museum at 11am, so we walked back along the waterfront and found it in a funky part of old town (Main Street) – the area that had been known as Whiskey Row at the turn of the century.  We really enjoyed the tour.  Since I’d booked it last week, I had this song lyric with “Louisville Slugger” trying to work its was to the front of my brain.  I took to google when we were having lunch later and figured out its from Mary Chapin Carpenter’s song “The Bug.”  It goes:  “sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug … sometimes you’re the Louisville Slugger, baby, sometimes you the ball … “

 After lunch we wandered into the Evan Williams Experience, where we sampled Peach Mint Juleps – yum.  Back to the hotel, we had a nap, then showers – ready for our next event at 3:30pm.  This was an event booked by the group where we got our tickets:  Princeton Sports Group.  It was billed as “Derby Eve at Buffalo Trace,” but we weren’t sure what to expect.  We got to the lobby and found we were a busload of people, and we were headed to the Buffalo Trace Distillery, about an hour away in Frankfort!  Our guide and driver were great, they plied us with cocktails and information about bourbon and the trip went fast.  

 When we arrived at the distillery, there were three other packed busses, so we had a wait a bit to get through the temperature screening and get assigned to a guide.  The distillery had a policy that everyone wear masks (except when seated in the tasting room), even outside, and some in our group were pretty vocal about thinking that requirement was ridiculous (especially the group from Texas!).

 While I enjoyed the tour of the rickhouses (3-4 floor buildings where whiskey is aged after its barreled), and the room where the empty barrels were stored, I was disappointed that we didn’t get to tour the actual distillery – I wanted to see the chemistry!  None-the-less, we had an enthusiastic tour guide and it continued to be a beautiful day and we enjoyed the beauty and the history of the property while we waited our turn to enter the tasting room.  There we were socially distanced at spots with 5 shots laid out for each of us – a vodka (too strong for me just straight), and three bourbons with progressively better quality:  Buffalo Trace, Eagle Rare, and Blanton’s Single Barrel (we’d been introduced to that last month by our nephew Calvin, a far superior bourbon).  We thought the tasting finished with their Bourbon Cream (like a Bailey’s) which was yummy on its own, but they served it with a shot glass of root beer and when we combined the two – we found heaven! Since it was Derby time, they finished the tasting with a demonstration of making Mint Juleps, and we each were served a large portion of that!

 After the tasting, we had some time to shop, so we headed to the store and bought a bottle of their Bourbon Cream (they sell out of Blanton’s as soon as its bottled, or we’d have bought that too).  By then we were mildly buzzed and in need of food.

 Back on the bus, we travelled about 20 minutes before stopping at Jeptha Creek – an event center where we had dinner, more drinks, dancing to a bluegrass band and playing a little corn-hole in the yard. During dinner, we sat with two couples that had arrived on another bus – also their first Derby experience and we enjoyed trading stories with them.  

 On our bus back to Louisville, our guide decided it was time for bus Karaoke (using the music on his phone and holding it up to the microphone).  One guy, who didn’t seem particularly gregarious, got up to sing, and sang very well as the bus lurched along the interstate.  We sang all the way to the hotel, a fun night.

 We awoke Saturday morning to another beautiful day, and had a leisurely morning with a hotel room workout and breakfast. We had the local NBC affiliate that had full time coverage from Churchill Downs and we watched the first two races on TV before heading out. The gates opened at 10am, but that felt too early to go, yet there were plenty of partiers already there.

 We headed out of the hotel about noon. It was a bright sunny day and neither of us were prepared with sunscreen, so we walked around the corner to the CVS drugstore. As we walked down the street, we were greeted with shouts of “Happy Derby Day,” and nearly every vehicle driving by stopped as asked if we wanted a “shuttle” to the track. Our hotel offered a shuttle for $40 per person (which I thought was excessive), we could have driven our car and parked at the University lot and walked from there, but we’d decided we were going to take an Uber (I really want to think the best of people, but it seemed like a bad idea to jump into a car with someone who’s just taped a “Derby Shuttle” sign to his car for the day).

 As we walked into CVS, a confrontation broke out between a store employee and a young black man who was accused of having stashed something inside his coat. You could feel the tension in the store, and it put me on edge too. Other employees were suggesting the manager hold the guy until the police arrived. We grabbed a bottle of sunscreen and went to the checkout, where the clerk was almost too distracted to check us out.

 As we walked out the door, the managers had wrestled the man outside and the police had arrived. The scene quickly was surrounded by others that were taking videos on their cell phones. We moved around the corner, and didn’t see how it resolved, but it went quietly. Perhaps the manager was wrong?  

 Last month, we both got new iPhones, and are still struggling with having to sign into apps we haven’t used!? Ugh. We both really struggle trying to recall passwords that our phones have been so diligent about remembering, or allowing us to use face recognition. After a bit, Jeff succeeded in getting into his Uber app, but then his credit card had changed since we last used Uber, probably in NYC in 2019. My nerves were still on edge, and I was a bit panicked about standing here outside CVS with both of us focused on the phone, Jeff with his wallet in his hand and his credit card out. I pulled out my phone and was able to log into my Uber and my credit card was still active, so I said “I’ll order the Uber and you can work on your account another time!”

 We had a great Uber driver, Onfraus. He had a Green Bay Packer emblem on the front of his Jeep. His girlfriend is from Wausau and he knew a lot about Madison. He asked if State Street was still the place to be, and was shocked when we told him of the devastation after “protests” turned violent last year when windows were smashed and businesses looted after the George Floyd killing in Minneapolis. We all agreed it didn’t make sense - the wrong people in the wrong place, with a demonstration of anti-police effort. His calm wonderful manner helped calm my frayed nerves. A lifelong Louisville resident, he was helpful in explaining where he had to drop us, and how to walk to the track from where he dropped us, and also where to find the Uber pickup lot to get our ride back to the hotel after the Derby. It was just over three miles - $45 with tip (surge pricing).

 It was easy to figure out the way to the track, we followed the colorful crowd. Lots of young adults - many of them quite drunk already. I was surprised that many people had chairs, headed for the infield lawn which is where the party really happens, we’d heard. We followed the crowd to the gates, went through security, but our tickets wouldn’t read in the scanner - oh no. Our panic was relieved when a supervisor told us we had Clubhouse tickets, and we were at the infield gate, the wrong gate. They led us out and we worked our way against the crowd for a bit, and felt like was walked all the way around the outside of the track until we found our gate. I’d worn shoes for comfort and was glad to be walking before sitting for the next six hours or so.

 At the Clubhouse entrance, things were more civilized and the crowd was scarce. In fact, due to COVID, they’re operating at about 40% capacity - so for someone like me that likes my personal space, this was perfect!

 We found our seats - the first two seats in a box that was set up for just four, but could accommodate six. Every other box was blocked out with a tarp to maintain physical distance, so we had perfect sight lines to the finish like right in front of us. We were in the covered section, so no need for that sunscreen after all (but we saw quite a few people who could have used it).

 There was a race roughly every hour, so we fell into an easy pattern of watching a race, then exploring the grounds in between races. This year for the first time, all food and drink were included in the ticket price, so we grazed on food and I sampled most of the specialty cocktails: Mint Julep, Whiskey Spire (cranberry) and the Lily (vodka and grapefruit).

 For me, the neatest part about being onsite was standing at the edge of the paddock. Not only was the people watching amazing, but it gave us a close look at the horses. They’d be led around the circle, some seemed proud to be on display, some were fighting being led around, then they’d pull them into a cubicle where magically the tiny saddle would be strapped to the horse, then another lap or two, photos with the owners / VIP and one last parade past with the jockey onboard. How cool it was to see that up close. I’d never noticed their lightweight boots, and the small stirrups that seemed strung up too high. From the paddock, the procession would move under the grandstand and out onto the track where they’d parade by, before heading around the track to the starting gate (which was out of our view, but we could see it on the large video screen). The only downside to being there in person is the race happens so fast and with the crown noise and the garbled speakers, we couldn’t really tell how the horses we’d selected we’re doing!

 We were joined in our box by a dapper young man, Jackson and his girlfriend, Danni, from Miami. Jackson split his time growing up between Middleton WI with his dad (attended Edgewood High School), and Louisville with his mom. He’d been to the derby many times before, but this could have been his first time trying to impress a girl with his knowledge. They were cute.

 In the box kitty-corner to our front right, there were Louisville police officers. They primarily spent their time scrolling through their social media feeds on their phones. Later in the evening, two started smoking cigars and snapping photos of themselves. It seemed inappropriate and was noxious to be around, but the smell of cigar smoke was pervasive throughout the day regardless. As we were heading out to explore between races, we stopped to ask them if it’d be safe to walk the three miles back to our hotel after the race. They looked at us like we had two heads!

 The actual “Derby” the twelfth of fourteen races during the day. It was the only race we actually bet us, choosing Hot Road Charlie (Jeff pick which finished third), and my pick, Rock Your World, finished in seventeenth place. We’d added the favorite pick of the day, Essential Quality to our trifecta bet (it came in fourth). Almost, but that doesn’t count in horse racing, so we lost our $200 but had fun doing so!

 We hung around for a bit, enjoying some last-minute people watching, then joined the stream of people heading out of the main gate.  We turned right, towards the Uber lot, which meant we were once again walking against the crowd leaving the infield – many were now very drunk, most were sunburned, and some were being carried.  It seemed to be a zoo at the Uber lot, and the app showed our same driver, but it’d oscillate between 20-30 minutes away.  The crowd and the noise of the Jesus Freaks yelling at the crowd through bad speakers was making me crazy, so I lobbied to start walking.

 We walked with a smaller crowd, but many of them pealed off as we strolled through the U of L campus.  We walked past large house parties, still going strong.  After a mile, there were only a handful of us still walking towards downtown, but it felt good to move and the neighborhood felt ok. Several people that we’d pass would shout out friendly greetings, and we just kept moving, only slightly creeped out by the recommendation from the police that we don’t try to walk back to the hotel.

 It started getting dark as we got close, but by then, it felt like a normal evening stroll.  It felt great to get to the room though and jump into the shower to wash away the dirt and cigar smoke from the day!  We were probably both sleeping by 9pm!

 On Sunday, we were up before our alarm, so we got dressed and finished packing up and we were crossing the Ohio back into Indiana before 7am.  An uneventful drive, and great to be home in the early afternoon and still enjoy the day.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Something Held | Feeding Habits Update #8

Hi all!

Not me not realizing it’s been 3 months since I posted a Feeding Habits update hahahahahaha. Today let’s chat chapter nine, SOMETHING HELD. This also marks the last chapter in Harrison’s POV so prepare to say goodbye to this icon!  TW: body horror, mental illness, trauma

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Scene outline, excerpts & a little reflection on making difficult decisions that my not particularly benefit the book but benefit you as the writer under the cut because this update is GIGANTIC.

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed):

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting​, @aetherwrites​

Scene Breakdown

Scene A:

It has been two weeks since Lonan found Harrison at his shared apartment with Suzanna and things are getting strange. Lonan and Suz are getting closer, Harrison is getting more distant and slowly losing it. One morning, Harrison wakes hearing Lonan and Suz’s laughter, and crawls to the kitchen to investigate. When he reaches them, Suz is evening out Lonan’s hacked haircut and they’re both sobbing.

Scene B:

Shortly after this bizarre encounter, Suzanna steps out of the apartment for a breather because her son is sort of terrifying her! So Lonan and Harrison double-team to clean up Lonan’s hair shavings. Harrison begins eating the hair while Lonan stares and they have a conversation about the state of their friendship.

Scene Ba:

This scene is gross and confusing! More hair is ingested. My god.

Scene Bb:

After the above ordeal, both boys rinse off because they’ve been rolling?? around?? in??? hair?? but also?? things don’t stop being a little gross

Scene C:

An air of calm finally settles over the apartment. Lonan brews earl grey tea for him and Harrison to share and Harrison asks if he abandoned Lonan in the final chapter of Moth Work. Lonan doesn’t really answer this question so Harrison continues on his confused, but finally lucid (one-sided) conversation, admitting he understands he burdens his mother, who still has not returned. They circle back to the question of abandonment and Lonan answers Harrison the way he wants to be answered (yes), and this is a moment of freeing, where he feels some sort of responsibility in this irresponsible new life he’s led in NYC. They sort of agree to be friends again.

Scene D:

The boys head into the city to find Suzanna, heading to a bakery near the Hudson River. Lonan drives in his used car, a strange experience since Harrison has not seen him drive in years. Taking the opportunity, he searches through the car and finds a map in the glove compartment. The map is erratically scribbled over and it takes him to moment to realize this is Lonan’s map and the first indication that Lonan, who he has assumed is this stable, perfect person, is not as unscathed as he seems.

The boys pass the waterfront and Lonan nearly crashes the car into an oncoming truck. Harrison regains control of the vehicle tucking them into a side street. Shaken, Lonan apologizes for the mess he’s created both physically from his nosebleed and between Harrison and his mother, which gets Harrison a little antsy because he doesn’t like the suggestion that he’s going to leave. Lonan clarifies, stating he won’t if that’s what Harrison wants.

Scene E:

Later, everyone is back at home and Harrison wakes up to a Lonan-less bed. He gets up to investigate the strange dripping coming from the bathroom and opens the door to find Lonan precariously teetering over a sink filled with water. Harrison, concerned, moves him away and tries to ask why Lonan is presumably going underwater, but doesn’t push. They both stand on opposite sides of the bathroom until the sun rises.

My process:

Honestly, writing this chapter was a huge up and down. The first half of it came much easier to me, but the rest was a literal hellfire to get through. I think I was incredibly fatigued with writing in Harrison’s POV as I’d been writing it since June (I finished this chapter in either December or January). This book has been a pain in the ass to write despite me liking what it is, and I really think it being the only place I’ve physically “gone” since the pandemic makes it even harder to write. I felt claustrophobic in Harrison’s POV since I’ve been writing it for half a year, and in a lil ~breakdown~ my beautiful sister reminded me of something she’d previously told me, “it's not about what works, it's about what you want”.

Let’s chat about this for a sec! I think I was watching a Harmony Nice video on her “hard-to-swallow” self-care, and she basically outline (I’m paraphrasing here) that it’s critical we care for ourselves in ways that might not necessarily be easy to do. Honestly, leaving Harrison’s POV is one of those hard-to-swallow self-care things I literally had to do because my mental health was not happy with me! Y’all know my boys are very close to me, and I’m not picking favourites but Lonan is 2500 times easier for me to write with at the moment. I think Harrison’s situation and how he deals with it is much too similar to mine but in a way that is difficult to place (Lonan and I are unfortunately similar but in a way that is easier for me to understand about myself!). From the beginning of writing his POV I’ve been in Struggleville, but kept pushing through hoping the next chapter would be “the one”. Not to burst my own bubble but there is no such thing in the state of mind I was in! I was pushing myself to find something that doesn’t exist because my brain was really not equipped to do what I needed it to do. I really, really did not want to quit on Harrison’s POV, but I had to, not because I don’t like him (he’s my baby) but because I needed a moment to myself. I felt way too seen in ways I don’t really know how to address in myself, so writing him was horribly frustrating at all times (my fault, not his).

My characters really do live in my head rent-free lol. They live in there! They take up space! They take up energy! They take up concentration, and resources I need for myself! Empathy is so integral to my process, that I give a little part of myself in everything I write. This is a blessing because I really get to dig my heels into the mind of another person, but a curse because I’m not a machine (and sometimes I forget that). It is a lot of emotional energy and labour to give everything you have to fictional people. I don’t think an artist needs to be tortured to create good art (this is not it!) but I never truly practiced this well? In my attempt to be empathetic, I was torturing myself a little bit, not going to lie!

So to combat this, I decided I needed a change. Hence, this chapter is imperfect and probably needs some stuff added to it, and while I’ve only written little of Lonan’s second POV, I’m feeling a lot better! It’s nice to get “outside” in a different place lmao this is so sad (pandemic writing things).

Excerpts:

I wrote the beginning of this in a livestream I hosted on my YouTube channel! There’s also a shoutout here to my dragon tree Lisa <3 miss u boo

Two weeks go by. Lonan sleeps on the couch. Harrison wakes up at dawn—no earlier, no later. Suzanna buys a plant: a Madagascar dragon tree she names Lisa. June grows into the collar. Lonan plays sudoku in the newspaper. Harrison learns to bake focaccia, gluten-free, whole wheat. Suzanna learns to palm read, tells Lonan he’s experienced great betrayal (they stop the reading immediately; Lonan goes back to the newspapers). Harrison begins burning incense at sunrise—frankincense. The dragon tree nearly dies (Lonan saves it). It rains every weekday that contains the letter T. Lonan shifts stacks of soggy newspapers onto the breakfast table, answers crosswords with the help of Suzanna (four across, nine letters, Something held). Harrison burns a baguette. Suzanna buys a hanging basket of pothos. The power goes out for two days and the icebox floods the kitchen tile (Lonan mops it with old newspapers, the ink running like jellyfish). June barks for the first time. Harrison eats a bundle of dried bay leaves. Suzanna waters the plants with rainwater, icewater, wrung into a coffee tin. Harrison leaves the stove on while sautéing shallots (he eats them whole). Lonan wakes up feverish and fills out four newspaper crosswords, then falls asleep on the coffee table. Suzanna moulds panna cotta in coffee mugs and shares the batch with Lonan when they won’t tip out. Lonan teaches her how to propagate the pothos and soon they have twenty empty cans of cuttings poking from the windowsills. They rearrange the furniture, the couch facing the kitchen instead of the TV, the dining table right outside the bathroom, then put it all back the next day. They birdwatch from the tiny window with binoculars and a magnifying glass. They sort coupons. Whittle soaps. Watch Norwegian films without the subtitles. Discuss cliff diving. Make matching anklets (blue beads, elastic string, the plastic clacking how Harrison knows they’re coming). All of this they do as Harrison lies on his bed for two weeks, counting the corners of his ceiling and trying to determine a way to multiply them telepathically.

This is the very next paragraph!

At first he assumes they’re laughing. The sun nearly rising between other high rises, blotting his room with dawn. This is not a surprise. They are probably making pancakes out of buckwheat and discussing the hilarity of whole grains. They are probably laughing at store-bought cherry preserves. Too sour. Their cheeks puckered. But then the laughs get louder, and the sun rises higher and it’s not laughing at all, but gasping.

Here’s Harrison crawling!! is this straight out of the exorcist probably!

Harrison’s instinct is to crawl. As if his smallness against the ground will stop anyone from hearing him, even before he unlocks his door. On hands and knees he shuffles from his bed to his doorframe, edges the door open with his shoulder. On hands and knees he hikes through the hallway, the gasping getting louder, shuffling until he sees them. Lonan sitting on one of the kitchen stools, a grocery bag wound around his throat. Suzanna clacking scissors in two hands so their blades ping in the sun. Her fingers loped around his hair, knuckle-deep, the blades snipping, the gasps growing, them both sobbing, the hair falling, the sun stalking, their bodies rocking. Harrison takes it in from his crawl. Experiences it all on his knees.

So this excerpt seems really you know, normal:

They clean up the hair. Harrison with the dustpan, Lonan with the broom. Harrison still kneels. Lonan still cries. The only thing that has changed since crawling into the kitchen is that Suzanna is taking a walk around the apartment complex. She needs air. Room. If she cries long enough, a cigarette. So Lonan sweeps. Harrison collects. This repeats.

The kitchen smells of nutmeg. Freshly grated from a whole club over espresso, Harrison imagines. He smells this as he tracks Lonan with the dustpan, hovering its open belly for clippings of hair. And Lonan is so compliant, brushes cuttings of himself onto the plastic surface so Harrison can trash it. As Harrison looks on from his knees, Lonan diffuses in sunlight, the window illuminating only his edges. A body so familiar Harrison knows exactly where it flares with light or absorbs it. A body with skin like mulberry silk. A body he could recreate in charcoal with his eyes closed. His archangel translucent and luminescing.

Skip this excerpt if you don’t want to read about Harrison eating hair!! i’m sorry!

Harrison picks a bundle of fallen hair from the dustpan. It’s airy from being recently shampooed, smells faintly of pear, maybe even ginger. This hair, touched by a woman, or a few women, and cut by one, or a few, in different contexts. Eliza’s hands deveining the roots, and then Suzanna’s, trying to fix them. So Harrison eats it. That bundle like a toothpicked cube of cheese. He puts it in his mouth and swallows.

Lonan watches like he’s unconcerned. He watches this feral animal—Harrison must be something feral, starved of something and ravaged by that hunger. Chewing mouthfuls of hair like that will quell of him of what is missing, if there even is anything missing, something unidentifiable in this bland circuit of New York City, this time-loop of sonhood, this fresh start a dousing of flatness. As Harrison eats, he understands he consumes that something like it’s holy communion, reuniting with that something by absorbing it. And still, that hunger moves him, from finishing the dustpan of hair, and closer to Lonan.

“Do you think I’m a bad friend?” Harrison asks, wringing the corner of his lips clean from loose hairs. From this perspective, Harrison on his knees collecting hair, Lonan’s eyes look bluer. Maybe their saturation has nothing to do with the angle, but Harrison feels this is true; his eyes are so crystalline, they are temptingly edible. Like two plump blueberries. Or a matching set of clear glass marbles. Harrison swallows. He repeats, “Do you think I’m a bad friend?”

Lonan swallows, adjusts his grip on the broom. “We’d have to be friends for me to answer that.”

“Aren’t we?”

And here’s the rest of this scene!

“You’re my mother’s friend,” Harrison says. “She trusts you.” He crawls closer to Lonan. “You’ve got secrets. Rituals. Tell me her favourite finger-food and who she wants to marry.”

“I don’t know your mother that well.”

Harrison wraps a handle around Lonan’s ankle. A muscle there jumps like a dolphin breaching the water. He’s memorized this plane of skin, could rebuild it from single grains of sand while blindfolded. He furls his hands across its surface, unfurls.

“You garden with her,” Harrison says. “You share a plate for dessert.”

“She’s kind to me.”

“You cook her breakfast.” Harrison tugs on Lonan’s ankle, knowing it won’t raze him, knowing he’ll come down anyway. “You know the exact temperature she drinks her coffee down to the last digit.”

“I’m trying to be hospitable.”

“You’re trying to be a son.”

Lonan kneels. Crouching so they’re huddled over each other, so it’s nearly impossible to distinguish one body from the other, which one sinks, which one rises.

“My mother’s only got one son to live with,” Harrison says, his voice thin from a clogged throat. He reaches for Lonan’s scalp, scrapes a line down the centre, now an even plane of cropped hair. “And it isn’t me.”

“You’re unstable,” Lonan says, burrowing his face either into a cabinet or Harrison’s shoulder—neither can tell. “You won’t let yourself have friends.”

Farther, toward the tile they go, a pile of hair scattering. “My mother wants me to forgive you by replacing me with you.”

“She’s grieving,” Lonan says.

Harrison loses his hands. He doesn’t know where they disappear to, if he touches skin or tile. “I haven’t died,” he says. Skin or tile. Skin or tile.

Here’s an excerpt from scene C ft. this memoir bit from the time I was shocked that this university I visited had real FANCY teabags:

Lonan brews tea. Earl grey, from a tin. Harrison doesn’t know why he expects it to come from a bag. An individual paper sachet, or if he’s lucky, one of those fancy ones woven from nylon. But it’s from a tin. Two teaspoons into the bottom of a single mug they pass back and forth, wordless at the kitchen table. Strung in the bathroom, Harrison’s t-shirt hang-dries, nearly figure-like, an unfilled phantom. He tugs a throw around his shoulders and stares at his hands. Each crest of cuticle. Each bulb of knuckle. Each maze of fingerprints.

He is material. This is fact. Not just outlines. He’s got skin that goes pinkish when pinched, a pulse that juts from his wrist, two eyes that burn at the scent of lavender, ten fingers. But as he holds his hands up, studying them in the faint moonlight, it is difficult to believe his tangibility. In the city, he has lived as a haze. Fogging over grocery stores, eateries, nondescript. Fresh start has always implied an air of zest, a zing that should have fueled him to plant roots in this restart. But Harrison is rotten, aphid infected, overwatered, underwatered, then not watered at all. He flexes his fingers. He pops the joints. He tries to press his pinkie to the back of his hand. But none of this brings him back to himself. His hands continue feeling like someone else’s. His body invisibly marred in some way he can’t reverse, disconnected in retaliation.

Harrison reflecting on his relationship with his mother:

Suzanna has never left him alone this long, and to her detriment. He imagines her now, living the life she always should’ve lived, the life she lived before he crosscut his way to her most important thing. She’s probably at a salon, having her hair twirled with a round brush, making dinner reservations at some place always too expensive for two (extra points if it has a French name, more if she has to wait a half hour before getting a table). When she talks to her stylist, she doesn’t mention a son, but plans to travel up the west coast, all the way into Canada if she’s feeling adventurous. She’ll buy crime novels she’ll never read at duty-free, reapply a lipstick that cost her a paycheck in the reflection of a hand-dryer. After the salon, she’ll meet a woman at a wine bar, converse about children, and still not mention a son. Suzanna’s singleness will be a celebration.

The boys finally trucing it out <3

When Harrison finally opens his eyes, Lonan is staring at him. His eyes two reels of the Pacific. They cycle in blue. So much of him has changed, and yet he is still the same. Beyond the haircut, Lonan isn’t that much different. He can’t be much different. But as Harrison searches, splaying his palm on the wet table, he knows this is untrue. Lonan is hollower than he was last summer. A little more haunted. They have this in common, then.

“Can we be friends?” Harrison asks. With his pinkie, he finds himself writing against the damp table just as he did Lonan’s scalp not too long ago. Lonan’s gaze follows each loop of each letter, Harrison’s steady left hand.

Lonan is consumed studying what Harrison has written, where each letter connects in near-cursive scrawl. After a moment, he nods, once, twice, and then reverts to staring at the table’s new inscription. On its surface are two words: something held.

The boys in the car like old times <3

Lonan drives. This is strange because Harrison has not seen Lonan drive a car in over a year. Usually, Harrison takes the wheel, but tonight he guides them through the city, in search of Suzanna. His car is clean. This isn’t unexpected. A cherry-coloured hatchback that rattles whenever he makes a left turn. It smells vaguely of cotton air-freshener and the undercurrent of cigarettes.

“You still smoke?” Harrison pokes at the plastic nob for the radio, and it crackles to life. Synth and electric guitar pulse in 4/4 time.

“I bought it used.”

They’ve agreed to get to know one another while they search for Suzanna. Another restart, some attempt at an honest hour. As Lonan changes lanes, Harrison pokes open the car’s glove compartment. A tin of nicotine gum falls on the mat. A hot pink feather pokes from underneath the driver’s manual. Harrison hauls out both, runs the feather along the gum tin, then the back of his hand, and then Lonan’s cheek. When that rouses nothing, he unlocks the tin and removes a slit of gum. Right as he’s about to pop it in his mouth, Lonan says, “I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Why?” Harrison asks. “Did you lace it?”

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

Harrison puts the gum back, and then the feather. He sticks his hand farther into the glove compartment, feels around until he drags out a map of the state, bilgy and half torn. He unfolds it, careful to avoid the rips, and flattens it against the dashboard. Almost immediately, it wilts against the cold, faded from time in the sun. It’s been marked up. Half with pencil, half with a red ballpoint pen. After a few minutes, Harrison understands the previous owner’s route. Or at least he does at first. Following the red pen arrows, they started at Long Island, then reached Manhattan. Then a much longer arrow takes him from Manhattan to Geneva, and then Buffalo. And then the red pen circles, once, twice, three times, four times, and what is in the centre doesn’t even have a city name. What it does say is HELP, in all-caps, each letter then melting into an illegible scrawl. Harrison sees bits of words: Luke, woe, hands, clay, guard, stray, each wobbly and disappearing into the other, becoming cities of their own, destroying others. He tries to understand the route, but the farther he pours over the map, recircling each line with his finger, the more lost he gets in the ink.

“Is this your map?” Harrison asks. There is no proof that it is. Even the handwriting is all wrong. Ragged. Confused. Desperate. Not like Lonan’s careful, hesitant print.

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

“But is it your map?” Harrison asks again. Gently, he creases the paper and then slots it back into the glove compartment. Outside, they pass three convenience stores in a row, a flock of couples emerging from a bowling alley, tipsy and cradling leftover deep dish pizzas and mozzarella sticks. They pass two more convenience stores before Lonan finally answers.

“I was confused,” he says.

“This is more than confused,” Harrison says. “It’s disturbed.”

“I’m not disturbed.”

“But something is wrong with you.”

Lonan slows at a crosswalk. A group of teenaged girls whisk by in glitter and lip gloss.

“Yes,” he says.

This is Harrison trying to stop Lonan’s nosebleed after their bizarre swerve which I think is kind of <3 tendy <3

Harrison reaches for him. One hand on the back of his neck, and the other reared toward the red stream. His touch is tactful, so faint his fingerprints wouldn’t even be left behind, but still, the dabbing with his jacket’s hem is enough to redirect the blood’s flow from Lonan’s upper lip to the cuff of leather. The radio is still on, garbled like an unmassing of crepe paper lanterns.

This is the final excerpt for this update that takes us to the very end of the chapter! Harrison has just found Lonan supposedly head-first in the sink and though he asks at first why he is doing that, takes an alternate approach as the chapter closes:

Harrison gets up, his knees popping like gnawed bubble gum. He decides he will handle Lonan at a distance, if he chooses to handle him at all. Like a timid pet owner trying to tame their suddenly-rabid yorkie. Like a friend not trying to tip the full glass. To let its contents film at its surface, but never spill.

Somewhere in the apartment, Suzanna probably listens to them. If Harrison didn’t know her better, he’d imagine her pressed neatly against the door, waiting to hear the shuffle of their bodies or the tang of an argument. Instead, he imagines her at the kitchen table, gripping a glass of water for so long, half of it evaporates.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Harrison says, stepping back until his spine hits the counter’s lip. He curls his fingers under the granite. Looks toward the window, now a faint periwinkle. Lonan heaves. His fingers caging his face, an animal restrained. They stand there until the sun rises.

So that’s it for this gigantic update! I have like four short stories to update you on so I hope to be back soon!

—Rachel

[wingsy-keeper-of-songs]

The Garden

Anon requested: A teasing/sensual kiss. Here we go, with our lovelies King and Nora! Hope you enjoy!

“Ah, such a pretty scene!” Nora said as they came to a pond. “It reminds me of the magnolia gardens back home.” She turned her head to look at the doctor then. “Were there any ponds like this where you’re from, Doctor Schultz?”

             “If one were to go further north, then yes.” He replied as they continued to stroll. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. I sometimes think I may have forgotten it.” She laughed and he refused to be drawn to the line of her slender neck.

             “Oh, you haven’t forgotten a thing,” she admonished gently. “You just prefer to keep yourself to yourself.” It was odd when she’d say little insightful things like that. She had a knack for knowing people, and it was one of the things that attracted him to her. They stopped at a bench and he sat her down first before taking a seat next to her. “I used to come out to the gardens to feed the swans,” Nora said as she looked around the little park. “It was the one place where I had any solitude, growing up in a house with three other girls. Not even dear Jean-Marie knew where I’d go with my books.” Jean-Marie was her youngest sister, and as far as Schultz could tell, Nora doted on the girl. He expected he might as well had he the chance to meet her. She must have been a charming little thing indeed to tame the woman beside him. Nora was opinionated and brash, outspoken and passionate. Again, these were things that very much attracted her to him. There were times when he swore he was with his dear Paula again, debating on the state of the government and he’d grow slightly wistful and quiet. Nora had noticed this about him and often inquired about Paula. Schultz often told her stories when he was back in France, about the rebellion in Vienna and how both he and Paula fled to the United States. Nora was fascinated by this remarkable man’s life and often found herself taking notes if she ever had time for it. She had been speaking for some time now, bringing up fond memories of the past and her favorite books to bring with her. “It’s a shame I didn’t think to take any with me,” she lamented. “I’d try to read yours, but all of your books are in German.” They laughed, and grew quiet again. Nora cast her eyes down at her little gloved hands before glancing back up at Schultz. He caught her eye and glanced curiously at her.

             “What is it?” He asked. Nora’s cheeks flushed with color and she looked back down at her gloves, fiddling with the buttons.

             “Oh, it isn’t important.” She said softly. “I just…I was just wondering something.” He tilted his head curiously.

             “You may ask me,” he said kindly, giving her fidgeting hands a comforting pat. Her face was flushed slightly and her gaze bashful as she looked up at him through long dark eyelashes.

             “Well,” she began. “I was wondering…I wondered what you thought of me?” Schultz blinked.

             “Thought of you?” He repeated. She nodded.

             “I mean, I know I must be a terrible bore,” she laughed nervously, her voice high and false. “Plenty of others have said as much, but I sometimes feel as if you don’t see me that way. You’re very patient with my ramblings, and you listen. I doubt very much anyone else has that kind of patience.” Schultz was quiet and he continued to look at her incredulously, and for that moment Nora figured she must have said too much and was about to apologize until he very gently brushed a bit of her hair back behind her ear.

             “What do I think of you,” he started. “Well, for one thing I don’t find you boring at all. I find you terribly frustrating at times, but at most times I’m fascinated.”

             “Fascinated?” Nora repeated softly. He nodded.

             “Oh yes, I find you very interesting.” He smiled at her. “You may try to act the proper woman when the time calls for it, but that isn’t you. You’re only putting on a show, much like I do.” Nora’s smile faded somewhat and she looked down at her lap.

             “I put on a show because it is what is expected of me,” she said quietly. “I try to meet those expectations, but there are times where I find myself questioning why I bother at all.” Schultz came to the realization that he must have insulted her which was never his intention.

             “You shouldn’t. I find you the most interesting when you’re just you and not meeting anyone’s expectations.” Schultz replied, giving her hand a kind pat. “There aren’t many people out there who manage to outfox me, you know.” Her smile was back and it was warm and genuine. Nora was a pretty woman, but when she smiled, she could take his breath away. He’d never tell her that, of course. She didn’t need that extra burden on her shoulders.

             “If you’re trying to restore my faith in men, you’re doing a very good job of it.” Nora said as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Schultz usually interpreted her closeness as platonic affection, and didn’t press any further than that. He was aware of the age difference and didn’t wish to push her into anything she wasn’t comfortable with. Though his thoughts and feelings were far from platonic, he knew better. All you have to do is turn your head, a little voice in his head said slyly. She’s close enough to steal one kiss. One is enough, isn’t it? He shook his head of the thought. Knowing the temperament of the lady beside him, he thought the better of it. “You may find it relatively easy to kiss me,” Nora informed him from his shoulder. “I can see that you want to.” He stiffened. The woman could read minds sometimes, he swore.

             “I wouldn’t be so brash as to push my affections,” he told her sincerely, keeping his eyes on the waterfront. “I rather like my face the way it is, thank you.” She huffed a laugh from her nose.

             “How very thoughtful of you,” she remarked fondly. “If only there were more like you.” Schultz gave her a self-deprecating smile.

             “I should think that one half-mad dentist turned bounty hunter would be enough, wouldn’t you agree?” She hummed in response and sat just a bit closer, her hand resting near his. Feeling just a bit bolder, Schultz gently took her small gloved hand in his, raising it to his lips to chivalrously kiss the bony knuckles. Nora smiled at the contact and she turned her head to his slightly, eyes dropping down to where his lips touched her hand before flicking back up to meet his. Her eyes were darker than slate, and he could very barely make out the small flecks of light blue around the pupil before her eyes dropped again. The two of them leaned close simultaneously and the doctor very gently and very carefully kissed her. She sighed softly at the contact as he lifted a hand to cup her jaw. One of her hands came up to rest against his chest, feeling his heart thud against the fabric of his coat. His thumb brushed the apple of her cheek as they kissed, pulling away and colliding again into softer, sweeter kisses. She could feel the tip of his tongue hesitantly brush against the seam of her lips, and almost without thinking, she parted them, granting him permission. Their kiss grew in passion and length until they felt the need to breathe. Nora was the first to pull back, her cheeks flushed with color and her eyes half-lidded with passion, her expression mirroring his. His usual confident smile was bashful now and he reached over to brush a rogue strand of her hair back, the tips of his fingers lingering against her cheek.

             “I know many people who would,” she finally said. “But I think the world would be a dull species of hell without you in it.”

[facesfactoids]

Women’s Bodies & Space to Live

1. Brittany Spears and America's Need to Demonize & Fetishize Women.  I lived through Cher, Madonna, disco and the explosion of pornography (Playboy magazine was an acceptable Christmas gift during my childhood).  The biggest porn star of my teens was named for character played by Katherine Hepburn and Grace Kelly (The Philadelphia Story and High Society).  Anyway, Brittany had some great tracks and her whole marketing scheme (not necessarily thought up by her, remember record label exec, stylists, etc.) was almost-legal sexy kitten.  And the music and videos were fun.  But because we are uncomfortable w/ young women's sexuality (say ages 13 - 30), Brittany became a lightening rod in the Culture Wars (I'm rolling my eyes at Tipper Gore et al who resurrected parental outrage towards music in the 1980s).  On The Media did a nice roundup re: Brittany and Monica and all the other white women who were vilified during the 1990s during the height of the backlash against Second-Wave Feminism.  The currently circulating clip of Letterman and Lindsay Lohan illustrate a similar point.  Our culture still has a lot of retrograde energy towards young women and their sexuality/freedom.   2. The fetishization of women of color.  Someone photoshopped a Superman "S" onto Stacey Plaskett and her blue dress.  The rhetoric around Stacey Abrams.  Our cultural constructions of Asian women and Southeast Asian women.  Latinas.  Native American women continue to harmed by the stereotypes that originated w/ the colonizers.  Fetishization is dehumanizing and renders these bodies up to the service of the privileged and the powerful to further their needs, wants, and desires.     I started listening to The Reckoning yesterday.  I also started reading Dress Codes.  Black women’s bodies have been contested sites in this country since 1619.  It’s Black History Month, so old-heads will show you photos of Black women dressed in respectable ways if as if to say that it’s the lack of girdles, knee-length dresses, hats and gloves that keep racism in place.  We’ve internalized the Panopticon.   3. Real Estate.  It's a seller's market.  Meaning that buyers are going to pay more for housing than usual.  Meaning that an increasingly more diverse set of buyers will pay more for housing than the not-so-diverse people who are selling.  Meaning that some people who have struggled to gain a foot in the middle-class for generations will be priced out of the market, or be put further into debt to secure the American Dream.   A drive around Cleveland reveals sometime dystopian-like stretches of real estate periodically interrupted by revitalized housing for the lucky few.  A large public housing development is being demolished to "give the community a better sense of the potential this space (along the Lake Erie at W.25th Street) offers."  I cannot find any information on where the inhabitants of the "Big 8" were scattered to.  A lakefront Metropark sounds lovely.  I find it interesting that in some cities (NYC and Cleveland) public housing was put near waterfront property.  I’m assuming those spaces, the water, used to be much more closely tied to industrial usages as opposed to leisure.  Waterfront and lake living are huge now.  So all those public housing projects, lower SES neighborhoods and their inhabitants must go.   The corners of Kinsman, Woodland and East 55th Street offers some of the bleakest views.  I'm amazed at how little the landscape at that corner has changed in 24 years.  Meanwhile, a block or two away, the Opportunity Corridor project marches forward.  The irony of the Juvenile Justice Center being located along the Opportunity Corridor is spectacular.  Contrast the rehabbed buildings along Detroit Avenue w/ sparkling gyms in the old-storefront spaces w/ the Woodhill Homes that are in desperate need of rehab and revitalization but have been passed over in two rounds of HUD money.  The Opportunity Corridor takes you almost to Woodhill Homes.  We ration out Opportunity in this society.   Freeing Brittany: <iframe frameborder="0" scrolling="no" height="130" width="100%" src="https://www.wnyc.org/widgets/ondemand_player/wnycstudios/#file=/audio/json/1088476/&share=1"></iframe>

https://www.clevescene.com/scene-and-heard/archives/2020/07/16/metroparks-to-demolish-two-buildings-on-w-25th-street-for-irishtown-bend-project https://www.ideastream.org/tags/woodhill-homes-cleveland-public-housing

https://www.ideastream.org/news/mixed-feelings-as-opportunity-corridor-nears-completion https://dsl.richmond.edu/panorama/renewal/#view=0/0/1&viz=cartogram