#Valerie Confections
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Valerie Confections, 1936 W Glenoaks Blvd, Glendale, CA 91201
Started as a luxury chocolatier in 2013, Valerie Confections Glendale flagship offers chocolates (bars, truffles), toffees, petit fours, cakes, basque cheesecake, pies, muffins, granola, jams, espresso drinks, etc. The coffee crunch cake was once featured on The Best Thing I Ever Ate. The gift boxes and packaging are beautiful. Everything is high quality here.
Mushroom & cheese hand pie ($7): Buttery, flaky pot pie crust with a savory filling of mushrooms and gruyere – so yummy, love mushrooms with cheese
Crème fraiche scone ($5): thick scones, chewier than usual – different, slightly tangy, and not dry
Pumpkin petit four ($4): layers of moist spice cake, ganache, enrobed in a thin layer of white chocolate
Assorted truffles: these are small and the centers were silky and moist. The Moroccan mint flavor paired well with the chocolate. The earl grey flavor was harder to detect. Was given a free truffle too.
I think they have afternoon tea service on weekends. They have a happy hour deal from 3 PM – 5 PM, 50% off pastries.
4.5 out of 5 stars
By Lolia S.
#Valerie Confections#chocolatier#bakery#baked goods#cakes#pies#muffins#Glendale#chocolate bars#afternoon tea
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I was asked for recommendations because of this post, and here are a handful:
The Wicker Man (1973): The quintessential folk horror viewing experience, this movie is exactly as good as everybody always says it is. The soundtrack alone is worth the watch. Has a Wonderland-esque quality, where the main character is thrust into a world where everything he thinks he knows is turned topsy-turvy, and everybody around him seems to be determined to irritate and confuse him into an early grave. If you haven't been spoiled for the ending yet, try not to be before you give it a watch.
House / Hausu (1977): This movie was made in Japan, so most people call it Hausu, but the title card styles it as 'House' in English and has a voiceover that says "House!" at the same time. This is a surrealistic, almost cartoony psychedelic trip of a movie, where characters are named after the archetypes they fall into and special effects are added with hand-drawn animation onto film. Starting out like a parody of slice-of-life high school dramas and quickly getting weird with it, it could be silly and campy, and in some places it is, but I also found it creepy and psychologically unsettling in a way that sneaks up on you and gets right under your skin.
Halloween (1978): John Carpenter's original is a classic for a reason. Unlike many entries in the inescapable trend for masked killers cutting up co-eds that it inspired, this one is a moody, atmospheric, tense suspense thriller broken up by sharp, sudden explosions of violence. This is one of my all-time favourite horror movies and one that I go back to over and over.
Suspiria (1977): This movie is a candy-coloured confection of spun-sugar broken glass, cotton-candy razor wire, and raspberry-syrup blood. The aggressive use of the Goblins' creepily enchanting theme song nearly made me turn this one off in the first few minutes, but I stuck with it and I'm so glad I did. This is one you want to watch if you're looking for a Grimm fairy tale updated into the modern day (in 1977), built around a series of baroque and dramatically stagey murders.
The Haunting of Julia / Full Circle (1977): 1977 was, apparently, a good year for horror. The Haunting of Julia, or Full Circle, depending on the country of release, is a psychological ghost story with an absolutely gorgeous set and soundtrack. Is Julia really being haunted by a ghost, or just her own guilt? By the end of the movie, you may still not know for sure. This one is truly a horror movie for those of us who grew up on the 90s A Little Princess and The Secret Garden movies. (Just bear in mind that the abdominal thrust manoeuvre for helping choking victims, popularised by Dr. Henry Heimlich, wasn't common public knowledge until after an info campaign in the early 80s.)
Let's Scare Jessica To Death (1971): This is such a surreal nightmare of a movie that in the end, you may end up questioning whether any of the violence actually happened, or whether its perpetrator was really who it seemed to be. Don't go into this one for the plot (it doesn't make a whole lot of sense), go into it for the imagery and the slow ominous rising dread (and the possibility of ancient immortal vampires).
I've also got Valerie and Her Week of Wonders (1970) and Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979) on my list to watch.
There's something about seventies horror that reminds me of live theatre, actually. The sets and costumes are often cheap, and when it comes to period pieces, more 'inspired by' than accurate; the makeup is big and visible; even when the effects are really good, the blood is usually unnaturally red. The acting tends toward the broad and stagey.
And yet, it's also clear that realism is not the goal. Rather, the movie works to draw you in to a unified fiction, to get you to share in its nightmare. The best seventies horror I've seen has a dreamlike, Vaseline-lensed quality, a sense that it doesn't matter whether or not everything that happens in the movie is likely or even possible in real life. We've stepped outside of real life into a self-contained bubble with its own logic and its own sense, a dark fairy tale where the corpses of young girls might transmute into hares or eternally hungry floating heads, or the night of All Hallows might summon a stalking, unkillable masked evil from the past, or a ballet studio might be entirely controlled by witches. Even the lowest-budget, most exploitative Hammer flicks don't escape the touch of that dreaminess, that velvety, enfolding unreality. The movie suggests a world, and we, if we are wise, gladly succumb to the power of that suggestion.
#to watch#if you are at all a fan of 70s horror you've probably seen most of these#but then if you are a fan of 70s horror my post is probably not your first exposure to 70s horror#was thinking about it and I think Francis Ford Coppola's Twixt (2011) actually has more in common with 70s horror for these reasons#than it does with anything else that came out contemporaneously with it#which may be part of why it bombed so hard#(however. I love it.#and despite it not being 70s horror I do also recommend it if you like 70s horror)
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Chocolate time for Paisley u3a on Thursday
Chocolate time for Paisley u3a on Thursday
Chocolate lovers and those curious about its past are in for a treat at Paisley & District u3a. Local member, Valerie Reilly, will share the confection’s history through the ages on Thursday 4th April. As an author and former keeper of textiles with Paisley Museum, Valerie has researched many topics but few as delicious as this. Attendees may sample some chocolate at the monthly meeting which…
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How to Use Coupon Codes for Discount Shopping
A coupon code is a unique combination of letters, numbers, or symbols that customers can enter at checkout to reduce their final bill. Online shoppers can find digital coupon codes at a variety of websites, including popular discount hubs like RetailMeNot. Sometimes, these digital coupons are automatically applied at checkout, while other times they must be added through a special box at the end of a store’s online ordering process. In some cases, customers can also get digital coupon codes from stores’ email lists and through social media channels.
Online retailers use a variety of codes to encourage shoppers to make purchases and drive customer loyalty. For example, a free tote with certain purchases might be promoted through a code like “FREETOTE75.” Some online stores offer this promotion without requiring any minimum purchase amount, while others set a minimum spending threshold that includes tax and shipping costs.
Coupon codes are often used to promote large events or seasonal sales. For example, many retailers run promotions during major holidays such as Black Friday and Cyber Monday. The codes that are used for these events are often short, easy-to-remember phrases like CYBERMONDAY or BLACKFRIDAY. Other common online code phrases include HOLIDAY or even just a simple word such as SALE.
Some stores have exclusive, digital coupon codes for their rewards members. For example, NET-A-PORTER offers its rewards program subscribers a 15% off coupon every time they shop through the company’s official app. This strategy helps the company increase app sales while encouraging customers to use their app for all of their shopping needs.
Customers can also find digital coupon codes from a variety of other sources, such as Reddit and Twitter. Some brands will tweet discount codes directly on their accounts, while others will promote them through third-party social media influencers or publishers. Some ecommerce sites also display their coupon codes in various places on their website, such as on homepages or in product pages.
Another way to get a discount on a product is to buy it in bulk. Many ecommerce stores sell products in packages of multiple items, such as sets of five or 10 or more items. These multi-item sales are a great way to save money and encourage repeat buying. For example, a company such as Valerie Confections might advertise a sale with the text “Buy 10 and Get 2 Free” to drive impulse sales of their small chocolate boxes. Other companies use similar strategies to create sales of single-item products that are replenishable, such as coffee or tea. For instance, Death Wish Coffee promotes a bundle of their signature coffee with a 20% discount code. This strategy increases average order size and boosts brand loyalty. These kinds of promotional discounts are easy to create and can have a major impact on customer retention. The key to a successful coupon code is creating one that appeals to your target audience. This can be done by focusing on the specific things your shoppers want to buy, and not just general discounts like "everything." This approach will make your coupon code more effective and likely to generate more sales.
Find coupon codes for Discount here.
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THIS is for YOU: Valerie Gordon is Awesome + All Things Entertainment We’ve started watching Nailed It, the “...
#THIS#JacquesTorres#NailedIt#NicoleByer#THISisforYOU#ValerieConfections#ValerieGordon#You039reAwesome
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Petit Fours
We went to Grand Central Market this past weekend and were able to sample some of Valerie Confections's petit fours in two flavors: Earl Grey and Champagne. My favorite dessert? Cake. And cake dipped in chocolate is an upgrade to an already perfect dessert, especially when said chocolate is named "the best chocolate in LA" by Los Angeles Magazine. So. Read the rest of this review on my new blog: Refining My Palette!
http://bit.ly/2iKYLoR
#food#food illustration#petit fours#dessert#dtla#grand central market la#valerie confections#markers#inks#gouache#watercolor#earl grey tea#champagne#tiny cakes#delicious
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Lamia Bonding #8: Lapis Special
It took no time at all before a new schedule was achieved within the house, one that usually meant Valerie was along for a few hours while all the lamia spent some time outside. Even Currant was spending more and more time just basking on a rock that Sangria had insisted should be located closer to the house. Marmalade had been tasked with moving the enormous boulder, a feat which meant he was absolutely ravenous and had just wanted to bask and nap for a few days after. The new perch was used by all the larger boys when they wanted to show off their healthy scales since the boulder had been positioned outside the window that was right beside her work desk.
It left her and Lapis alone for at most four hours a day and the Corny took the chance to wiggle even deeper into her heart. He wasn't as big a prankster as she had thought he would be but his pun game was something to be feared.
The first time he took Val by surprise was the next morning after she brought him home. He was draped over her shoulders, positively asleep, and she was brewing a cup of tea when she'd heard the slurred "don't disssturb my beauty ssssteep."
Who could be prepared for such punnery when they'd just woke up? Val had wheezed and she was positive that he'd glowed, just briefly, as if his SOUL was simply too happy to be contained. It hadn't stopped from there, either.
Tell him she was lactose intolerant?
"what an udder tragedy."
Give Lapis some candies?
"i have a confection to make... this is really good!"
And the memorable moment when his pun had been so borderline naughty that Val had literally covered her face and made a sound not unlike a dying hamster. It couldn't even be repeated!
But Lapis was excellent company while she was working. He spent much of the time napping on the little nest she'd made for him on her work desk, under a small heat lamp that she'd gotten after bringing home Lapis. The little purrs he made when he was sleeping were soothing and she tended to doodle him whenever she was doing warm-ups... a fact which meant he would crack an eye open and make silly faces.
She loved that little goober.
Currant may not have been around to dance with, chasing after Sangria's glittering scales, but she still had someone that she could indulge in weirdness with. Lapis couldn't sit around and do absolutely nothing all day but she didn't want to force him into moving about. But it was adorable to see him slither around her desk and pockets, looking for the little snacks she had hidden about. His size meant she was being a little overly cautious but if he minded always being around he didn't mention it.
The first time Lapis began to plan a prank she didn't know what to look for. He suddenly developed a ravenous appetite and raided the pantry for the Fruity Pebbles that were meant just for Lapis to snack on. She went to sleep, expecting a normal day, and woke up sometime around 3am to a suspicious lack of Lapis. When she found him...
Well, she would never be able to get the image of Currant staring in disgust at toothpaste stuffed Oreo cookies. She hadn't even known Currant knew where the Oreos were!
Lapis slept like a noodle of overcooked spaghetti after that and Currant wouldn't stop looking at him with such a profound look of distrust that Valerie lost control of the giggles every time she looked over.
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Prompt #16: Crane
Rivalries between actors are complicated things. They combust as spontaneously as wildfire and can consume acres over the course of a person's life in the industry. Thespians are a particular breed of petty, practically a necessity to land any role of worth in the first place. Let's take for example the rivalry between Iosef Appolinar and Remus Fulgencio on the set of Hannish Sunset.
Iosef famously helped himself to the honey cake on the catering platter in the green room, tragically unaware that it was his costar's extremely specific rider request, which you do not under any circumstance interfere with as he was about to learn the hard way. Indeed, this prompted a red-faced Remus Fulgencio to storm his dressing room upon discovering the missing confection and beat Iosef into the carpet while the makeup artists stood on and simply asked that he not aim for the face or they'd be there all day. It wasn't really Iosef's fault, per se, as Remus was also harboring a little pluto problem he never did shake after his physical training for his role as a prizefighter in Glassjaw, the side effects of which include frothing rage and hunger.
Nevertheless, Appolinar took his lumps, finished the production (albeit with slightly more makeup), and then spent the rest of his career doing everything in his power to fuck with Fulgencio. This came mostly in the form of fucking Fulgencio's love interests behind his back, including two of his wives (one of which resulted in a pregnancy, but we don't have time for that) but he also managed to secure an iconic and award-winning role as a grizzled, streetwise investigator in Thanks for the Memories thanks in part to the rugged look that comes from having your nose broken and improperly reset years before.
I digress.
Maybe you're wondering about Valerie and I, and I can hardly blame you. But let me tell you this: Valerie Salacia fired the first shot, and we all know it. I was set to star in my very first lead role (Olivia in Fancy Meeting You) and she chose the exact night of its opening to throw herself an engagement party and fan meet-and-greet. You may be thinking that this was simply a funny little coincidence of timing, but you would painfully mistaken. Valerie chose The Ceruleum Swan of all places, hot on the rumors that she had been telling everyone about how I supposedly gave at least three blowjobs there under the guise of a waitress to get a foot in the door, which you know by now is patently fucking untrue.
I can still remember how vacant the rows were, how the sound echoed without the pack of bodies to change the acoustics. You could hear the drunk bellowing and the sound of live music down the street from inside the lobby. Did I cry? Of course I didn't cry, am I some sort of little girl? I danced ballet for years and had my final emotion crushed at the barre before I hit puberty and have never looked back. At an industry gala the next week, I paid to have the seating chart rearranged so she was forced to spend the evening across from ex-husband, and next to an actress who I was informed had been coming down with a nasty cold. Consequently, Valerie began coughing and missed the casting call for Paper Cranes and spent the next nine months watching her would-be costars talk about what a marvelous time they were having without her on the international tour that took them to Hingashi and Thavnair for subsequent performances.
Ever since then, I hunt Valerie's deepest, darkest insecurities for bloodsport.
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Branding for Lolli & Pops by Valerie Durak, Maker
Lolli and Pops is a premium specialty retailer that offers an assortment of confections, sweets, chocolates and treats from all around the world. My partnership with Lolli and Pops first began when I was asked to create hand-lettered chalk installations for their retail stores.
As our relationship grew, I was brought onboard to help develop product, branding, packaging, photography, web, marketing and retail design along with the creative team at Maker. During our partnership, I contributed to the design for over 100 private label products, and Lolli and Pops grew to over 75 locations across the US.
T D B: instagram • twitter • facebook • newsletter • pinterest
#thedsgnblog#design#graphicdesign#branding#identity#typography#packaging#packagingdesign#print#candy#valerie durak#logodesign
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Lookie here, my dear (Don’t miss this album!
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Lookie Here, My Dear is a weekly column that spotlights albums that have evaded the Big Sites (Pitchfork, Stereogum, Allmusic, etc,). This week’s album is one that especially needs some extra love and support: Of Montreal’s 21st album: I Feel Safe With You, Trash.
Image from Of Montreal’s Bandcamp, please consider supporting an artist you love today on Bandcamp
Of Montreal is the closest I have gotten to embracing a Phish/Grateful Dead style fandom over a band. I would absolutely drop everything I am doing in my life to follow of Montreal on tour. I am singing along to every song. I don’t have the songs consciously memorized, they have been programmed into me. I have listened to a full bootleg version of False Priest and have seen them live more than any other musical act in my lifetime (Around 10 times in three different states and one different country). As an aggressively weird and emotional kid growing up in the South that wanted to break through the gender binary and frighten and challenge the “normals,” you couldn’t ask for a better soundtrack than Of Montreal. I discovered them in 2007, the year of Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer? The last album Of Montreal would earn Pitchfork and Big Publication’s laurels and respect.
There have been 10 albums out since Hissing Fauna and I love the majority of these albums to various degrees. There is a B-sides rarity compilation Daughter of Cloud that I haven’t really spent time with and a couple of real dud LPs: Innocence Reaches and UR Fun. UR Fun was the most recent Of Montreal album that came out in the beginning of 2020 and was more or less written off as a complete failure by critics and online fairweather fans. Critics have actively grown disdainful over Barnes’ eccentricities and their overwhelming unfashionability, there hasn’t been anything trendy about of Montreal in nearly 14 years. Real of Montreal fans know there’s usually one middling album that paves the way for a much stronger release. Mainly evident in the jump of quality between Innocence Reaches and White is Relic. The leap in quality between Trash and UR Fun is astonishing.
UR Fun has some choice cuts and even the worst Of Montreal albums are more interesting than a good deal of today’s musical landscape. I saw Of Montreal live for UR Fun in February 2020, one of the last full capacity shows that would ever happen in Brooklyn’s Brooklyn Steel venue, perhaps forever. Unfortunately it was one of the most unpleasant oM concerts I attended and no fault of the band but due to the audience. Restless and rude bodies going back and forth, forth and back to the bar or who knows elsewhere and shoving people around. An absolute covid nightmare. Nobody attending concerts in January and February 2020 were appreciating them as much as they should.
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Of Montreal had been releasing their albums on Polyvinyl since their sixth LP, the critical breakthrough Satanic Panic in the Attic. At that point Barnes had already spent 8 years building up a devoted cult following and making hysterically ornate psychedelic pop and lo-fi rock confections. Of Montreal seem to have a layered working relationship and have been a stable home for Barnes’ adventurous output. What’s remarkable is that none of these shifts in sound ever feel like counter culture role play or trying on an EDM hat or a alternative country hat, they are always distinctively an Of Montreal album. Besides stylistic adventurousness the other running throughline that connects the of Montreal discography together is Barnes’ penchant for hyper-literate, bold everything and the kitchen sink approach to lyricism and songwriting. The highly divisive, gloriously deranged Hissing Fauna follow-up LP, Skeletal Lamping is where the free-verse, songs within songs approach fully becomes a mainstay for Barnes. Even though I Feel Safe With You, Trash is being released on a separate personal vanity label, Sybaritic Peer, Of Montreal and Polyvinyl continue to be a fertile label and artist relationship.
I Feel Safe With You, Trash is also notably the longest album released by Of Montreal since 2004’s Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies (1 hr 9 mins) clocking in at 1 hr 6 mins. As of writing this article I have already listened to the album three times and counting upon its official release date. Not because I have a moral principal about how many times a person should experience art before analyzing it, but because the album is so damn replayable. Of Montreal at their best, and this album represents Barnes at the height of their powers, reminds me why I love and obsess over music. Hardly anyone making music today is making music this bold and adventurous. At this point in their career Barnes has more than solidified their status as bonafide Japanese word for a Music Witch.
Barnes has been performing and producing every single instrument and singing every backing track on their albums for over two decades now, and still indicates not even a sliver of fatigue. There are days where I can barely write a single thought down because I know it won’t get a single like, it won’t lead me any closer to picking up the camera and nailing that perfect monologue. I can be salty about the life of obscurity I have built for myself, but then I have to remember Kevin Barnes. A bonafide musical genius that hardly bothers to get the word out. Barnes seems incapable of stopping making the sort of albums a person can get lost in for days. They are my biggest musical heroes, they represent exactly the sort of path I want to carve out for myself.
I Feel Safe with You, Trash is the embodiment of the gift that keeps on giving. A portrait of an LGTBQI+ artist 25 years into a career completely devoid of diminishing returns. There have been some missteps along the way with “Georgie Fruit'' and having too much fun during a mid-life crisis with UR Fun. More importantly I Feel Safe with You, Trash represents real, critical growth for Of Montreal. And this is Album One of Two of 2021, the year Of Montreal continued to take up a considerable portion of my mental bandwidth, it’s pure bliss.
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Notable Tracks:
Aries Equals Good Trash - The first obvious “single” for the album that has a serious swaying lilting, uneasy beat. The vocals on this track are indicative of the overall shift in quality in Barnes vocals that have gotten a lot less strained and smoother. Favorite lyric/delivery:
“I compare thee to a saturnalia (ha!) if I may be so rude.”
The song also touches upon Barnes’ relating to be on the spectrum, both the gender/sexual spectrum and the cognitive one. Music for people breaking new ground with a broken brain.
Now That’s What I Call Freewave -
“Every time I look at my phone I get brain damaged. By every blamedead person I get lobotomized"
This song is also the first song in the Western music canon to introduce the phrase “feelbad songs of Covid summer.” This song also marks the first appearance of several where Barnes is absolutely shredding the guitar. I don’t really listen to much music that places and emphasis on “solos” or melting the fret board, but how can you not get excited by that burst of guitar? Also leave it to Barnes to find a way to also shout out an experimental cinema deep cut, Chick Strand’s Soft Fiction. I also discovered the Czech film Valerie and Her Week of Wonders through the song “st. exquisite’s confessions.” Why not also use your songs as a chance to shout out cool obscure cinema?
Still from Chick Strand’s Soft Fiction
True Beauty Forever - Of Montreal go future funk. If you don’t know what that means don’t worry I’m brewing up a whole story on the joys of future funk.
“I'm a black widow and I don't bite you so I guess I'm in love!
Possibly my new favorite Of Montreal song...
Fuckheads Is the Auto-correction - Okay I need to nix that phrase from my vocabulary because nearly every song on this album could be considered a new favorite. How can you top this opening couplet:
Am I a creep because I don’t have a chosen pronoun? Am I a creep because my mind is the Odeon of the multiverse?
Drowner's TeÃrs - The use of pitched up vocals is an example of some of the new bells and whistles added to the oM sound palette.
Fingerless Gloves & Kcrraanggaanngg!! - Find Barnes doing death core, metal styled goblin shrieks and it really, really works. More absolutely gnarly and nasty fret work.
Yamagate Florest Flutes & ThRam Rammaged à Man-Mod - Reggae/Dub Of Montreal? :O
Notes Of ViOlate SPectates A Flatter Of Male & So Chill Then (o Portão) - On an album this dense and frenetic there had to be some more ambient and chill passages and having So Chill Then as the album closer makes for a satisfying, soft landing.
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And to close whole she-bang up here’s a picture of Of Montreal performing at one of the best music festivals in the world, Pahoda in Slovakia:
This post is in no way associated with Of Montreal in any way, but I highly recommend checking out and subscribing to Of Montreal’s Patreon Page and ride the artwave!
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Diary of an Emotional Masochist, Chapter One: Dignity and Shame
I am an emotional masochist. I’m the kind of person, who, when I’m already going through a bout of nostalgic melancholy, will decide to read old journal entries or look through old photographs. The kind of person who, when it’s three a.m. and I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about what loves have come and gone (to borrow a phrase from Edna St. Vincent Millay), will get up and Google search those loves. I am the kind of woman who, when I’m already sad, will listen to an album that devastates me. I have a long list of albums that it’s almost too painful to listen to, albums that remind me of such specific times in my life that listening to them takes me right back to where I was then. A different person would purge their record collection and iTunes library of such albums, but, like I said – I am an emotional masochist. On lonesome evenings, after a couple glasses of whiskey, nothing sounds better to me than spinning one of those records (or queueing up one of those playlists). This is one of those lonesome-whiskey evenings, so won’t you join me in indulging? We’re listening to Crooked Fingers’ Dignity and Shame.
From the first sparse, haunting notes of “Islero,” I am transported back in time to the summer of 2005. God, that summer. That terrible, wonderful summer. I’d fucked up my life the year before, and I thought that would be the summer I’d fix it, except all I did was fuck it up even more. God, that summer. That March, I moved away from Chicago after living there for five years. I planned on moving to Milwaukee come autumn, to start fresh in a fresh town. In the meantime, I moved back in with my parents. I wasn’t home, much. Nights, after work, I went to one of the two bars in Kenosha where all my sad drunk hoodlum friends hung out. On days off, I walked in the woods – the heat was relentless, and the canopy of trees offered cool green comfort. Or I drove to Chicago to see shows and drink with my friends and try to remember why I’d left; drove to Milwaukee to scope out neighborhoods, sit for hours at the Hi-Fi Cafe, go record and dress shopping. On one of my record shopping expeditions, I bought Dignity and Shame. It was on the Staff Recommendations shelf, and I liked the cover art, so I took it home with me – and it was serendipity, it was exactly the album I needed at the time.
As soon as I got home, I set it spinning on my turntable, and the first track – “Islero” – gave me goosebumps. The second track – “Weary Arms” – made me cry. It had sad cellos and a lonesome cowboy guitar, and Eric Bachmann’s voice was a raspy baritone: Beware of strangers knocking at your door. Old lovers, too. Don’t think for one second they’ve forgotten you. Oh, oh, oh. By the time the final, hidden track played, I’d melted into a puddle of tears and goosebumps on my bedroom floor. The album destroyed me, and it spooked me because so many of the stories sounded like things right out of my life, both from that year and six or so years before it. It was like Eric Bachmann had read my diary and set it to music. I wanted to write him a letter and say: “Get out of my head, god damn it! Get out of my aching heart.” It’s impossible for me to write about Dignity and Shame, or about the summer of 2005, without descending into hyperbole, sentimental poetry, and melodrama. My God, that summer was hyperbole, sentimental poetry, and melodrama. I was still young enough that it was acceptable to feel things that intensely, acceptable to talk about a sunrise over Lake Michigan by saying things like: “When the light shot through the horizon in streaks of peach and gold, it was the most god damn beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Dear diary, listen to me.
My “Weary Arms” wrapped tight around so many lovers, that summer – four of them, plus a handful of brief flings. Later that year, I lamented that I hadn’t had as many wild love affairs as I’d had in years past, which, yes, says something unflattering about me. And Eric Bachmann sang: You have many enemies, for reasons no one’s certain of.
One night, while I sat at one of the bars and waited for my friends to arrive, a girl approached me. I didn’t know her, but she knew me. She sat down across from me and lambasted me for sleeping with a guy she’d been dating at the time…two years before. She called me a slut, and some worse things. I wanted to buy her a drink, to appease her. I couldn’t understand why she hated me so much. When I slept with that guy, I had no idea he had a girlfriend. So many enemies, so many lovers, but could a jaded girl like me heed an uptempo “Call To Love?” In that song, Eric took the role of a particular one of my lovers, and said: Won’t you hear my heart? I’m transmitting a call to love. On a night when the moon was orange-red and luminous, that lover said: “The moon is the color of your hair.” Another night: “You were born in the wrong era, Jess.” And, though I was a sucker for sentimental poetry, my guard was up. Lara Meyerratken answered for me: Don’t need my heart kicked ‘round the block no more. You may be smooth-talking, daddy, but I’ve heard it all before. I traded gossip with the “Twilight Creeps.” In this sweet-sad song with the bright piano and the shimmering backup vocals, I was both the singer and the sung about. I could have sung it to one of my lovers, should have said to her: Flower, don’t dig so deep so you don’t go anywhere. But the words were also about me: You say someday you’re gonna float away. Take yourself some kind of holiday. I often told my sad drunk hoodlum friends, the twilight creeps, that I needed to get the hell out of town. “If I could just get gone for more than a few days, go somewhere more than a few hours away��there ain’t no use in trying to make me stay.”
My lovers all wanted to make me stay. The flower-girl, I’ll call her Valerie. The one who spoke poetic words to me, I’ll call him Jack. And there was Lon, and Carmine. In different ways, for different reasons, they each wanted me to choose them over all the rest. Even a few of the week-long flings and one-night stands, older punk guys or younger hippie girls, said things to me like: “How did I get so lucky as to meet a girl like you?” Or: “So, are you my girlfriend now?” And when I said no, they called me a heartbreaker. A “Destroyer.” It’s a woebegone cowboy of a tune. Doleful drums, piano that tinkles like ice cubes in a bar glass, and a lap steel guitar – which, as far as I’m concerned, is the aural equivalent of an anti-hero walking off into the sunset. The song is all about how the singer is going to make someone his, and then he’s going to leave them behind. When they called me heartbreaker, I wanted to sing it: Lay down, just let it come, and resign your heart, today, to get blown away. “Valerie,” well, that’s why I’m referring to that lover as Valerie. Much like me, she was a punk rock girl turned heroine of a Tom Waits song (heroine of a Crooked Fingers song). She had thriftstore dresses and jailhouse tattoos and self-inflicted scars. “Valerie,” the song, has a sanguine strut, is a besotted love song, and I thought of Valerie, the girl: Red roses, silk, you in your sleek summer dress. You were light, revelation, oh, I love you the best. But she and I kept our love unspoken. We both had other romantic complications, and only touched each other on long hot nights after too many bottles of wine and too many pills. “Sleep All Summer” was my song for Jack, the young ex-goth whose mouth was pink and pouty like he’d been sucking on a strawberry popsicle. Our love was either all the good songs and kissing ’til our lips were raw, or it was screaming matches and hangover headaches. What bliss is this, and then he’d get attention-starved and whiny, and I’d burn hot and cold and say nasty things, and we’d say: “This is it, we’re through.” But – There ain’t no way we’re gonna find another, the way we sleep all summer. Why won’t you fall back in love with me? And we’d run into each other at the bar, and faster than our friends could say I told you so we’d be tangled up in the backseat of his car or rolling around by the lake, and the whole thing would start all over again. He’d play the martyr, and I’d say: I would change for you, but babe, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be a better man.
And “Coldways” kill cool lovers. Lon was a folk singer from the north woods. He’d been one of my best friends for years already, and when we started dating I was so tired of complicated, fiery relationships that I mistook comfort for True Love. My heart still hurts when I think of how I hurt him. He wanted me to marry him and I just wanted to be drunk and in love, to listen to “Coldways”’s thrumming, swelling sound. To sing along: Come out, come on, tonight the city’s alive. “Wrecking Ball” has a jaunty, punchdrunk piano, and the piano had been drinking, but so had I. God, I drank so much that summer. On the rare night I spent at home, I holed up in my room, wrote long, sad, tales of people in the legend of my life, and drank blackberry brandy mixed with Sprite. Something like that would taste over-sweet to me now, make me shudder, but maybe the same part of me that craved sentimental poetry also thirsted for sugary drinks. And most nights, I wasn’t at home. Most nights, I changed clothes in my car after work. I swapped my reeking-of-pizza button down shirt and black slacks for one of my vintage dresses. A mint green confection, or a pink and white sundress. Something from the ‘50s, blue with red and white polka dots, or a slinky black number that a ‘30s jazz singer would have worn. And I sat at one of two bars, drank whiskey and Coke, or brandy old-fashioneds, or gin and tonics all night long. I waited for my friends to arrive, and I drank and smoked and entertained myself with one of the items I always had in my bag – a book of poetry by Dorothy Parker or Edna St. Vincent Millay, a deck of Alice In Wonderland tarot cards. And sometimes, someone would find me intriguing. I swear, I wasn’t a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but… I was a redhead in a retro dress (usually with a strand of fake pearls, too) sitting in a dive bar, smoking pastel-colored cigarettes, reading sonnets and tarot cards. Christ. Often, someone found me intriguing, chatted me up, and I wound up with yet another lover. I was a destroyer, destroying myself with booze and love. I was a wrecking ball. Eric Bachmann, accompanied by that barroom piano, sang: And you laughed and you danced, and it let you feel fine for a while. Hanging out with the kids who you knew soon would fall out of style.
I’ve left two songs out, dear diary. I did it on purpose, because they are the two that hurt the most. They are also the two that heal the most. The kind of songs that make me weep, then tell me to dry my tears. “You Must Build A Fire,” oh, it is one of the saddest songs. It begins with only two guitars (a finger-picked lead and that god damn lap steel again), and Eric’s voice is so plaintive, sounds like it’s about to crack, and he sings: Oh, gracious love, you were so kind to me. You only broke my heart, let my arms and legs stay strong. So I could swim upon the open sea, searching for another love. Floating along aimlessly. I haven’t told you about Carmine, yet. Carmine was a musician who looked like a magician from an old-time carnival. The year before, he’d ruined me in a worse way than any other lover ever had. (As a friend put it, he was one of the ones who fucked me up so bad I was pretty much ruined for anyone else.) He ruined me, but I let him back into my life. That summer, we got together. It was supposed to be closure, but of course it just opened everything up again. He said: “I want to be with you. I want to try again.” I said: “Okay, yes, let’s start over. I want to be with you.” He said: “Only if you break things off with all your other lovers. I want to be your only.” The nerve, giving me an ultimatum like that when he was even more of a notorious libertine than I was. And the song sang: I had someone, a love I thought was true. But sometimes you just get tired, and you must try not to die. And give your love, though no one may receive. You must build a giant fire, for the whole wide world to see. It sounded like that whole heartbroken, hot summer. Oh, where are you, love?
The title track, “Dignity and Shame,” is a piano ballad that told me: To be sure, there ain’t no cure. There could be no one to save you. It is the track I return to over and over, more than any other track on the album. Though my life has calmed down a lot in the decade since that summer, sometimes – that feeling comes, you’ve been here once before. That wicked feeling you don’t want to feel no more. And then, Eric Bachmann (get out my head, god damn it!) sings: You’re not the same as the day that you came. You can choose dignity, or shame.
I choose dignity. I carry my broken heart like a torch in the night. Little keeper of light, burning deep, burning bright in the dark.
[originally appeared in Witchsong in October 2015]
#jessie lynn mcmains#my writing#music#memoir#crooked fingers#dignity and shame#2015#2005#love#lovers#heartbreak#panic attacks#drugs#alcohol#lyrics#this is still one of my favorite pieces of music writing i've ever written#and since witchsong has gone dark i thought i'd share it here
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Chapter Ninety-Three: A Council from the Past
Disclaimer: see Prologue
A/N: I know it’s been months and a lot has happened to everyone and to the real life Harry but onwards with the history. No interferences from the real world shall come into this story. So I’ll continue with what I had already planned and finish this story in the coming months (finally!). Hope you’re all staying safe and healthy. Lots of love, Bea.
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A few days after Owen’s birth, they released his full name to the press: Owen Charles Philip Augustus and their son would be known as HRH Prince Owen of Sussex, like his older brother. They had traveled to London by helicopter on the next morning to have the baby accessed properly at St. Mary’s Hospital. Once mom and baby where both cleared, they decided there’s no point in travelling again and decided to remain in London. So Elle’s parents and brother were the ones who made the trip to Kensington to meet the newest addition to the family.
“ Oh, he’s so precious, sweetheart.”, said Victoria, holding her youngest grandson in her arms. Elle and Harry smiled at her, while Arthur snuggled on his father’s lap.
“ I really the name you’ve chosen for him. Strong name, a family name no less.”, said her father smiling to the couple.
“ Yes, I quite agree”, said her brother. “ But maybe next name, could you make him an Edward?”, he continued and the room was filled with laughter.
And so the Sussexes spent their Christmas and New Year at home, relishing in the company of their sons and close family as much as they could for they knew that in the coming month they’d have many engagements to attend to with their renewed and fuller schedule, which included new charities and a much awaited christening to plan and execute.
************
March 2020
Dressed in a white a floral dress with a matching fascinator, Elle walked beside Harry carrying Owen in her arms, as he held on to Arthur who had insisted on walking. The flashes of the cameras slightly blinding them as they made their way towards the Archbishop. Much like at Arthur’s christening, the service was a private one, with family and guests present, including the Queen, Prince Philip and the closest members of the royal couple at the Chapel Royal, in London.
For Owen’s Godparents they chose Valerie & Edward, Catherine & Mr. Richard Collins. Harry and Elle walked in first towards the altar, as Elle carried Owen in her arms while the godparents followed behind them. Elle then passed the baby to Valerie, while Catherine held the towel to dry the baby's head.
" Your Majesty, Your Royals Highnesses, Your Graces, ladies and gentlemen... Parents and Godparents, the Church receives this child with much joy. Today we are trusting God for his growth in faith. Will you pray for him, draw him by your example into the community of faith and walk with him in the way of Christ?", asked the Archbishop.
" With the help of God, we will.", they replied in unison. The Archbishop lit a large candle and the service proceeded with prayers and blessings.
" Owen Charles Philip Augustus, I baptise you in the name of Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.", he said. Elle and Harry smiled as Owen cooed and Arthur clapped, making the congregation chuckle. The day was filled with joy and love, a bit different from their previous christening experience. No big revelations or problems this time around. The bells rang as the people left the chapel and moved to the palace itself. Little by little they made their way inside. Elle was holding Owen in her arms as Harry held Arthur, gleaming as the press snapped picture after picture that would soon be all over the world.
After the service, the couple, friends, family and guests enjoyed a luncheon at the grounds of St. James’s Palace. While the guests mingled, Mario Testino once again was asked by the couple to take their official portraits. Since it was a bit chilly for them to be outside, they took the photos in the Yellow Drawing Room, whose pale, pastel colour along with the sunlight coming from the window, made it seemed as if there was a halo surrounding the family. All in all, the pictures portrayed a very sweet and touching moment, that would be recorded on their minds and on paper forever.
Once the pictures were taken, they moved along to the grounds of the palace, with Valerie and Edward constantly bantering who’d be the best godparent as well as keeping the infant in their arms, switching every so often from one another. Owen, of course, loved the attention. On the other hand, Arthur was relishing on the undivided attention he was receiving from his parents. As per tradition, once again a piece of their wedding cake was defrosted and served to the guests, along with refreshments, sandwiches, canapés, confections and some stronger beverages such as brandy and whiskey.
************
A week later…
Harry and Elle had travelled to Scotland for an engagement in Perth, which was their first visit to their Earldom of Atholl. They had been visiting distilleries, churches and schools. They were in the middle of a guided visit at the famous St John's Kirk church, all was going very well when suddenly Ingrid, Alfred and Leo rushed to their sides along with Daniel and Lisa.
“ Apologies, Your Royal Highnesses, may we talk in private for a moment?”, said Lisa. The couple excused themselves and joined their staff on a corner of the church.
“ We’ve just received news from Her Majesty’s office. You’re needed back in London as soon as possible.”, said Lisa. Elle and Harry looked at each other alarmed.
“ Has something happened?”, asked Harry urgently.
“ We don’t know for sure, sir. But it’s the Duke of Edinburgh.”, said Daniel. Elle’s eyes widened and she reached for her husband’s hand, giving it a squeeze, which he returned.
“ We can’t simply rush outside. People will think it’s strange.”, whispered Elle to Harry. He hummed in agreement.
“ What is the plan?”, she asked in a low tone their RPOs and secretaries.
“ The helicopter is ready on the outskirts of the city to take you back to London. We’ll make an orderly exit to the car, as if nothing has happened.”, Lisa whispered back.
“ We should thank them and excuse ourselves, darling.”, said Elle, making Harry nod his head. Together with trained smiles, they returned to their hosts and very politely thanked them for the wonderful tour, took a couple of pictures and exited the church with cameras flashing in their direction. Inside the car, they kept their smiles up until they were out of reach from the paparazzi and the public.
“ Dear God… what could have happened now?”, wondered Harry, running his hands on his face. Elle’s hands ran up and down his back, comfortingly but her eyes held the same worry as his.
“ Sir, ma’am… we’ve got news. Apparently the Duke of Edinburgh and Her Majesty were in Sandringham for the weekend when His Royal Highness started feeling ill. They then travelled from Norfolk this morning to the King Edward VII Hospital in London for observation and treatment in relation to a pre-existing condition.”, said Daniel.
“ So grandad is sick again…”, said Harry. “ But that’s not new. He’s been on and off the hospital for the past year or so. What’s wrong this time… what are you not telling us?”, he insisted.
“ I’m afraid we don’t know sir. They are making tests but we can assume that…”, began Lisa.
“ Assume what?”, said Elle. Lisa and Daniel looked at each other and sighed.
“ …that it’s not looking good if they asked you to return to London with such urgency. They are saying… that Operation Forth Bridge is on high alert.”, continued Daniel. The couple looked at each other, eyes wide at the severity of what might have been waiting for them in London. They held their hands tighter as they got nearer to the helicopter. Soon, they’d know for sure how bad it really was.
************
Upon arriving in London and making sure their sons were okay with their grandparents, the couple was taken to King Edward VII Hospital, a place they knew well enough and brought back a few memories, specially to Elle. She pushed those aside and hand in hand with Harry, she was guided by their staff to a private ward where as soon as they arrived, they could see Charles & Camilla, Anne & Timothy, Andrew, Edward & Sophie and the Queen.
“ Nobody said what’s happened. What’s going on?”, asked Harry, looking around the room. The Queen, visibly shook, was being held by Andrew and Edward.
“ It seems his heart is in a bad shape. His coronary artery was clogged again but when they were making tests in order to operate him, they discover that… his heart is failing. They can’t operate. It would be too risky.”, said Charles, misty eyed. Elle and Harry breathed in deeply and looked at each other.
“ What can they do then?”, asked Elle, sympathetically.
“ They’ve given him some medication to help with the clog and he’s being monitored but there’s not much they can do. The doctor’s said that… due to the severity and his age…they are just trying to make him comfortable.”, replied Charles. Elle and Harry hearing his words then realised why they had been called to the hospital. They were not only there for moral support. They were there to say goodbye.
For the next few days they came and went to the hospital to stay with the family and talk to Philip as much as they could. The older royal was struggling a bit with the idea of departing against his own terms but was comforting to the fact that there was nothing he could do. Even thought he general mood was gloom, the Duke of Edinburgh tried to remain in good spirits, cracking a joke every once in a while and terrorising the doctors from time to time. Though there was no joke or funny comment that could make up for the look of utter loss and sadness that had taken over the Queen.
By the end of the week, the press and public had caught up with the news but they didn’t yet know the extent of Prince Philip’s condition. As soon as the news began to travel, messages were pilling up on social media, prayers and good wishes were sent from all over he Commonwealth, vigils were held from all over the UK and the press, for once, tried to keep their distance and remained alert but respectful. One afternoon as Harry and Elle were keeping him company by relieving the Queen, Prince Charles and Princess Anne so they could rest, the older prince asked to talk to Elle alone.
“ Now my dear… what I have to tell you is simple but extremely important.”, said Philip. She leaned closely to him, listening attentively.
“ Being a member of this family is not easy and you’ve had your fair share of tribulations along the way. I cannot guarantee they are over for in my experience, there’s always something or someone who’ll come along to test or threaten you.”, he continued.
“ I know Charles won’t be king for a long time. He’s already old as it is. And soon it will be Harry’s turn. And one day, your son’s. Being the spouse of a monarch is much harder than it looks. But what you need to know… or better yet, what you need to do… is stand by him. Stand by him, Eleanor. Talk to him, advise him, comfort him but also challenge him. We live in a position of privilege but they hold the real power. We cannot govern for them, but we can try to do it with them.”, finished Philip, closing his eyes momentarily.
“ Promise me you’ll do that. I see so much of myself in that boy… I want him to accomplish all that we could not. And by God I wish you both to have a long life together.”, he continued.
“ I promise.”, said Elle, teary-eyed.
“ Good… good. Now… I must rest. Call one of the nurses, will you?”, he said and she nodded her head, quickly calling one of the nurses with the buzzer.
************
On the following week, per Philip’s and the Queen’s request, he was taken from the hospital back to Buckingham Palace where he’d have all the medical care and attention needed but would be at home and away from all the atmosphere of a hospital, which was what he wanted to have. His condition, unfortunately, did not improve and he weakened further throughout March. On the afternoon, March 14th, 2020 Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh died, with Her Majesty and Princess Anne at his bedside. Queen Elizabeth was devastated. No one had never seen her so sad or distraught apart from her own mother’s death.
His body was taken to the Chapel Royal at St. James’ Palace, which only a few weeks prior had been visited by the family at a much happier occasion. There he remained in the lying in state, with a guard os 20 British Grenadiers soldiers guarding his body. The Queen and all senior members of the Royal Family broadcasted tributes to him. William and Kate also paid tribute. His wishes had been for his funeral to be a private affair, unlike the state funeral he could have if he so wish it. But he had been a soldier his whole life and that’s how he wanted to depart it. As a soldier as well.
And so, on March 28th the funeral was held at Windsor Chapel. His sons and grandsons walked behind the coffin from the short distance between Windsor Castle and St. George’s Chapel. All close members of the Royal Family attended the service, as well as friends, the military associations he spent years as patron of or colonel and the heads of the Commonwealth countries, past and present whom he had had a contact with. He was laid to rest opposite to the Queen Mother, his father-in-law and sister-in-law. A mourning period of thirty days was installed on the family and no one performed any duties for the duration of it.
The Queen retired to Sandringham, away from the public eye, with her dogs and Princess Anne. William, Kate and their children often visited her from Amner Hall. In that period, Harry and Elle also moved away from London with their sons and took solace in their home in Sussex. Renovation had been made to make a new room for Arthur and adaptations into the nursery so it could better suit Owen. Sir Lancelot was delighted to have the free space and wild animals to chase about the property and the couple was happy to be away from all the fuss of the city. Elle took the time to put some of her writing in order and to dedicate some of her time to start a vegetable and spices garden at the property, with Harry’s help. Taken up much of what Charles advised them, they started sustainable farming the estate so it could produce the food they consumed and also created more jobs for the people in the village they lived in.
“ Do you think we’ll be able to go back to normal after this?”, Elle asked him as they were planting some rosemary in a patch of their garden.
“ I don’t think we can go back to normal at all, my love. And honestly, I’m not sure granny ever will.”, said Harry sadly.
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full name: valerie stella durmaz.
nickname(s): val.
gender & pronouns: cis female & she/her.
age: twenty-seven.
face claim: melisa pamuk.
orientation: bisexual.
birth date: july 05.
astrological sign: leo.
height: five foot nine.
hair color: brown.
eye color: brown.
hometown: detroit, michigan.
current residence: somerton, maine.
neighborhood: evengreen docks.
occupation: record store associate.
pet(s): zeppelin (dog).
moral alignment: chaotic neutral.
BIOGRAPHY
tw: divorce, death.
Valerie Stella Durmaz was born in Detroit, Michigan to a father who worked hard as an auto-mechanic and a mother who worked at a family owned bakery. They were never wealthy by any means, but Valerie never went without. As a child, her mother would always bring home leftovers from the bakery and sometimes, when someone forgot to pick up an order or something wasn’t made correctly, they’d get those too. At an early age, Val was introduced to some of the best classics in the small garage her father took side work from. It was in that garage that she found her love for music.
Whenever she was old enough, Valerie stepped up to help her mother and their family at the bakery. It wasn’t what she felt like she was born to do, but for the moment when she was surrounded by family and the smell of sweet caramel and rich confections, it was enough. At least until she found herself preferring the music-city of her father’s garage. Again, it wasn’t something she wanted to continue on, but learning a few life skills here and there was enough of a reason to stick around.
When Valerie turned eighteen, her parents announced their divorce. There was nothing terrible about their separation and honestly, they seemed happier apart anyway. They’d wanted to part for years, but knowing that a complete family was important, they pushed through until it was time for Val to head to college. Her college years were spent exploring. She bounced from major to major, finding it hard to really connect with just focus area when there was so much to learn.
Finally, Val settled on public relations, but she never finished. When she got the call that her father had passed unexpectedly, she dropped everything. She tried desperately to find solace in working at the bakery surrounded by her family, but nothing filled the void of losing her father. In fact, it somehow hurt worse seeing that her mother could continue being happy after he’d gone. How did her mother continue a day like she hadn’t been married to the man for over two decades?
So, without a word, Valerie packed what little she had and moved to Somerton, Maine. It was much smaller than Detroit, but it was the fresh start she needed. Except, starting over without a degree seemed almost impossible, but she figured it out. Groovy Baby Records was willing to take a chance on her and with her knowledge in music, it was a good one. Of course, working at a record store wasn’t going to pay her bills. It was only when she signed up for a content subscription service and began posting to her fan’s desires that she was able to upgrade from her one room apartment to something a little bigger. While it’s not something she’s entirely proud of, it’s something she’s grown to enjoy. It allows her to make up for the money she doesn’t make at the record store and she has the luxury of working from home.
CONNECTIONS
neighbors. she could definitely use a few neighbors.
unlikely friends. we can work out the details, but this is someone she wouldn’t normally befriend.
rivals. maybe they don’t even know why they hate one another, but they do.
shoppers. anyone who might frequent groovy baby records.
only fans subscriber. since this is something she does privately, this is something i would like to work out with someone? she never shows her face, but maybe they figure it out some other way? idk, but this could be fun.
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Pure Feeling Playlist
Okay, so I had someone on twitter express interest in the songs I have for my playlist for Pure Feeling and figured, yeah, I could share it. I don’t have a spotify (I don’t like the interface plus the music selection is way too limited for my taste) and the playlist itself is on Youtube Music. It’s also private because I don’t really want random people seeing it or other people messing with it if I unlocked it, so I’ll just type up all the songs here with links that way y’all can scroll through and listen to what you want.
I understand there’s probably an easier and faster way to do this probably, but hey, with the quarantine I clearly have some extra time on my hands so why not?
Though, couple of warnings:
1. It’s LOOOOOOONG (it’s 300+ songs in total) (don’t worry I’m gonna put this under a cut)
2. Some of the songs aren’t going to make much sense in terms of the AU. This is for two reasons: a) Some of the songs allude to events/characters that haven’t shown up in the story yet (there’s a LOT of songs regarding Mara’s father) and b) some of them are just general songs that I use to get a basis of emotion/vibe when writing particular types of scenes.
3. My music tastes are all over the place (and this doesn’t even include some of the other genres I listen to just because it doesn’t fit this AU lol)
But this playlist is my main muse and is probably one of the best insights to my process/inner thoughts so, without further ado.....my full playlist.
(I grouped the songs from the same artist together for the easiest convenience)
(And some songs might kind of be repeats if I listen to multiple versions for the purpose of this fic)
Got any favorites? Any songs that worry you about the future of this fic? Or just something you might want more clarification on? Feel free to shoot me ask about it!
South London Forever by Florence + The Machine
Patricia by Florence + The Machine
I Will Be by Florence + The Machine
Too Much Is Never Enough by Florence + The Machine
You’ve Got The Love by Florence + The Machine
Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine
Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine
Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine
Ship To Wreck by Florence + The Machine
St. Jude by Florence + The Machine
Over The Love by Florence + The Machine
Pure Feeling by Florence + The Machine (hey look it’s the fic title)
Heavy In Your Arms by Florence + The Machine
What Kind Of Man by Florence + The Machine
Stuck On You by Meiko
Stuck On You (Acoustic Version) by Meiko
Adventure of A Lifetime by Coldplay
Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay
Hymn For The Weekend by Coldplay
Simple and Clean by Hikaru Utada
Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence - FYI - Hikaru Utada
Be My Last by Hikaru Utada
Colors by Hikaru Utada
Distance (M-Flo Remix) by Hikaru Utada
Without You (Justice Skolnik Remix) by Oh Wonder
Rockabye by Clean Bandit ft. Sean Paul & Anne-Marie
In The Rain (an unofficial rendition from Miraculous Ladybug by David Russell)
Stone Heart (an unofficial rendition from Miraculous Ladybug by sxrlove06)
Lost In The Moment by Daniel Lee Kendall
Fragile by ARCADES
Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood
Scary Love by The Neighbourhood
Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood
Sweater Weather (Vaski Remix) by The Neighbourhood
Honest by The Neighbourhood
Alleyways by The Neighbourhood
Stuck With Me by The Neighbourhood
Lights by Ellie Goulding
Goodness Gracious (The Chainsmokers Remix) by Ellie Goulding
Still Falling For You by Ellie Goulding
Starry Eyed by Ellie Goulding
Don’t Need Nobody by Ellie Goulding
Candy-Coloured Sky by Catmosphere
‘Till We’re In The Sea by RKCB
affection by Jinsang
summers day v2 by Jinsang
Let Go by Frou Frou
Must Be Dreaming by Frou Frou
I Just Want You by Robert Duncan
Forget by Alicks
Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier
Nevermind by Dennis Lloyd
Let It Happen by Tame Impala
Think About You by Kygo ft. Valerie Broussard
First Time by Kygo ft. Ellie Goulding
Fragile by Kygo ft. Labrinth
Feel Your Love by Nyquill
I See You by MISSIO
Learn To Let Go by Kesha
Praying by Kesha
I Love My Life by Justice Crew
Sex by Cheat Codes x Kris Kross Amsterdam
Everlong by Foo Fighters
Party Like It’s Your Birthday by Studio Killers
The Disappearance of The Girl by Phildel
Soul On Fire by Mystery Skulls
we’ve never met but, can we have coffee or something? by in love with a ghost
What is Love? by Y//2//K & Yung Death Ray ft. Jaymes Young
A Manner to Act by Ra Ra Riot
Suckers by Ra Ra Riot
Do You Remember by Ra Ra Riot
You And I Know by Ra Ra Riot
Oh, La by Ra Ra Riot
Can You Tell by Ra Ra Riot
Consequence by The Notwist
Anyone Else by PVRIS
Dead Weight by PVRIS
Can You Hold Me by NF ft. Britt Nicole
Young Folks by Peter Bjorn and John
No Fear by Dej Loaf
I’ve Been Waiting by Lil Peep & ILoveMakonnen ft. Fall Out Boy
Give U Up by CALVIN (I’m sorry in advance for this one)
Heartbeat by Scouting For Girls
Keep It Simple by Tove Lo
Sweettalk My Heart by Tove Lo
Glad He’s Gone by Tove Lo
Not On Drugs by Tove Lo
Got Love by Tove Lo
Crave by Tove Lo
Paradise by Tove Lo
Moments by Tove Lo
Talking Body by Tove Lo
Habits (Stay High) by Tove Lo
Scars by Tove Lo
Out Of Your Mind by Tove Lo
Vibes by Tove Lo
Lies In The Dark by Tove Lo
Come Undone by Tove Lo
dont ask dont tell by Tove Lo
Cherry Blossom by ALA.NI
Feels Like Home by The Him ft. Son Mieux
Quiet by Lights
Skydiving by Lights
365 by Zedd & Katy Perry
Left to Right by Marteen
Could You Love Me? by Black Saint
Midnight City by M83
Marble Soda by Shawn Wasabi
Crystal Dolphin by Engelwood
Pusher (Shawn Wasabi Remix) by Clear ft. Mothica
She’s A Riot by The Jungle Giants
Stranger by Jay Hayden & King Vodka
Now That I’ve Found You by Carly Rae Jepsen
Marty McFly by Luke Christopher
Rocks by Imagine Dragons
All Day And Night by Jax Jones ft. Madison Beer & Martin Solveig
Run Free by Deep Chills ft. IVIE
Maps by Maroon 5
Feelings by Maroon 5
blue by Pools
High Hopes (The Lucifer Edit) by Quails
breathin’ by Ariana Grande
Into You by Ariana Grande
Shy Girl by Kedam
Something Good Can Work by Two Door Cinema Club
What You Know by Two Door Cinema Club
Sleep Alone by Two Door Cinema Club
This Is The Life by Two Door Cinema Club
Do You Want It All? by Two Door Cinema Club
Sun by Two Door Cinema Club
Eat That Up, It’s Good For You by Two Door Cinema Club
Undercover Martyn by Two Door Cinema Club
Sunflower by Post Malone & Swan Lee
Señorita by Shawn Medes & Camila Cabello
Her Morning Elegance by Oren Lavie
Everybody’s Angel by Down With Webster
All Fall Down by OneRepublic
Counting Stars by OneRepublic
HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T by Fall Out Boy
Jenny by Walk The Moon
Youth by Daughter
Get Lucky (Cover) by Daughter
Love by Daughter
River Flows In You by Yiruma
Girls And Boys In School by Neon Trees
Girls And Boys In School (EP Version) by Neon Trees
Helpless by Neon Trees
In The Next Room by Neon Trees
Beings by Madeon
Dried-Out Cities by Fallulah
Bloodline by Fallulah
Almost Home by Mariah Carey
Headlock by Imogen Heap
Closing In by Imogen Heap
Lifeline by Imogen Heap
Goodnight And Go by Imogen Heap
First Train Home by Imogen Heap
I Am In Love With You by Imogen Heap
The Walk by Imogen Heap
More by Kaskade & Felix Cartal ft. Jenn Blosil
Lay Down by Kaskade & Late Night Alumni
My Distance by Kaskade
Lessons In Love by Kaskade ft. Neon Trees
Kill The Lights (Audien Remix) by Alex Newell ft. DJ Cassidy, Nile Rogers, & Jess Glynne
Fall In Love/Lie by INNA
Cola Song by INNA
Caliente by INNA
Iguana by INNA
Ruleta by INNA ft. Erik
I Like You by INNA
Love by INNA
Shining Star by INNA
Bebe by INNA
Bebe (Yaniss Extended Remix) by INNA
Better Not by Louis The Child ft. Wafia
Living Island by Pogo
Still Into You by Paramore
Hard Times by Paramore
Emergency by Paramore
Ignorance by Paramore
I Caught Myself by Paramore
Letting Go by HERB x Kendall Miles
To Be Human by Sia ft. Labrinth
Big Girls Cry (ODESZA Remix) by Sia
Elastic Heart by Sia
Angel By The Wings by Sia
If You Didn’t See Me (Then You Weren’t On The Dancefloor) by Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr.
Butterfly In The Still by Iwasaki Taku
Dare (La La La) by Shakira
Me Enamore by Shakira
Loca by Shakira ft. Dizzee Rascal
Te Aviso, Te Anuncio (Tango) by Shakira
Addicted To You by Shakira
Whenever, Wherever by Shakira
When A Woman by Shakira
Can’t Remember To Forget You by Shakira ft. Rihanna
Better Than Yesterday by HollySiz
This is What You Came For by Calvin Harris ft. Rihanna
Sweet Nothing by Calvin Harris ft. Florence Welch
Rain by Pueblo Vista ft. .Eehlou & Shiloh Dynasty
G.B.D. Pressure (Extended) by Chillster
Valentine by Aether ft. Veela
Lemme See by Usher ft. Rick Ross
Promises by Aly & AJ
Like Whoa by Aly & AJ
Silence by Aly & AJ
Find A Way by Safety Suit
Ordinary Day by Emilie Mover
Green Light by Lorde
Don’t Feel Like Crying (MK Remix) by Sigrid
Crazy in Love by EDEN ft. Leah Kelly
Broken Girl by Matthew West
Crazy in Love by Sofia Karlberg
This Is What Makes Us Girls (The Confect Remix) by Lana del Rey
1901 by Phoenix
Lisztomania by Phoenix
Please Don’t Touch by RAYE
Island In The Sun by Weezer
God Is A Dancer by Tiesto & Mabel
Tighten Up by The Black Keys
Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys
Lazy Eye by Silversun Pickups
Don’t Play by Halsey
Bad At Love by Halsey
Young God by Halsey
Now Or Never by Halsey
Hurricane by Halsey
Drive by Halsey
Eyes Closed by Halsey
Eyes Closed (Stripped) by Halsey
Haunting by Halsey
Strangers by Halsey ft. Lauren Jauregui
100 Letters by Halsey
Ghost by Halsey
Break A Sweat by Becky G
Little Talks by Of Monsters And Men
I wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red
Run by Alison Wonderland
I Want U by Alison Wonderland
Peace by Alison Wonderland
Peace (Acoustic) by Alison Wonderland
Dead To Me by Kali Uchis
Good Enough by Evanescence
Go Slow by Gorgon City & Kaskade ft. Romeo
Feel Good Inc by filous & LissA
All I Need by Within Temptation
A Lot Like Love (Oliver Heldens Edit) by The Voyagers ft. Haris
Hideaway by Kiesza
Memories by KSHMR ft. Sirah
American Sadness by XYLO
One Step At A Time by Jordin Sparks
Your Shirt by Chelsea Cutler
Hope Of Morning by Icon For Hire
Collect Call by Metric
Flowers On The Grave (Acoustic) by The Maine
Fabulous by Ally Brooke
Falling (blackbear Remix) by Trevor Daniel
You by Petit Biscuit
Unlove You (Drop G Remix) by Armin van Burren ft. Ne-Yo
Formation (R-TRAX Trap Remix) by Beyonce
Schoolin’ Life by Beyonce
Simmer by Hayley Williams
Ruby by Foster The People
Moral Of The Story by Ashe
Colorblind (Left/Right Remix) by Karma Fields ft. Tove Lo
Don’t Stop The Music by Jamie Cullum
Goody Two Shoes by Adam Ant
Don’t Stop the Fancy Footwork (Chromeo vs. Rihanna)
She Wolf (Falling To Pieces) by David Guetta ft. Sia
Slow Burn by Audiograf
Write My Story by Olly Anna
1 Thing by Amerie
I Like That by Janelle Monae
Your Favorite Place by Joey Pecoraro
Beauty Mark by Parov Stelar ft. Anduze
Dead Hearts by Stars
Change of Seasons (EP Version) by Sweet Thing
Larger Than Life by Pink Zebra ft. Benji Jackson
Are You With Me (Pretty Pink Remix) by Lost Frequencies
Nothing But by Skin
In Common (Kenny Dope Remix) by Alicia Keys
Resonance by HOME
All Stars by Martin Solveig ft. ALMA
Lavender’s Blue Dilly Dilly [From the Cinderella (2015) OST]
Besame Mucho by Jorge Blanco
Touch You Right Now by Basic Element
Dinero by Trinidad
Icon (Reggaeton Remix) by Jaden Smith ft. Nicky Jam & Will Smith
Make Me Sweat by Kat DeLuna
Sombredosis by Kat DeLuna ft. El Cata
Real Love by Memory Tapes
Feelings by Hayley Kiyoko
This Side Of Paradise by Hayley Kiyoko
Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko
Gravel To Tempo by Hayley Kiyoko
Pretty Girl by Hayley Kiyoko
Fiesta (Remix) by Bombe Estereo ft. Will Smith
Love by TeZATalks
Had by TeZATalks
Heal by Loreen
Analyser by AlunaGeorge
Attracting Flies by AlunaGeorge
Damaged by Plummet
My Kind by Hilary Duff
Sparks by Hilary Duff
Talk by DJ Snake ft. George Maple
First summer without you by Outgoing Hikikomori
First birthday without you by Outgoing Hikikomori
2 Heads by Coleman Hell
Mathematics by Little Boots
Hearts Collide by Little Boots
Meddle by Little Boots
Parachute by Cheryl Cole
When she went away by Max Richter
When she came back by Max Richter
Who Knew by Pink
Lash Out by Alice Merton
Back To The Start by Mr. Little Jeans
Perfecto. by Ayo. & .Disfnk ft. Daniela Andrade
service by j^p^n
I’m In Love Again by tomppabeats
Close by Nick Jonas ft. Tove Lo
Falling Apart by Michael Schulte
Dusk ‘Til Dawn by ZAYN ft. Sia
Pillowtalk by ZAYN
Minimal Beat by Lindsey Stirling
Perfect Illusion by Lady Gaga
Do I Wanna Know? (Cover) by CHVRCHES
La Familia (Guy Sigsworth Remix) by Mirah
Broken Parts by The Ready Set & Mokita
Invisible Chains by Lauren Jauregui
Lonely Gun by CYN
Cartier by Dopebwoy ft. 3robi & Chivv
Boss Bitch by Doja Cat
#1#2#3#4#5#pure feeling#ash writes#pure feeling playlist#playlist#if some of these links are wrong or repeat forgive me#I wasn't about to go through and double check them all#if nothing else you have the titles and these are all on youtube#will probably be adding onto this as I add more songs to my playlist#so I just realized that the links aren't showing up for some reason on the published post#even though when I went to edit they're still there???#I'm very sorry about that#just copy and paste into youtube I guess?
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To The Neighborhood
Steggy Week, day 5 Prompt: Domestic Bliss
Summary: New neighbors always have the potential to disrupt things, and the couple fixing up the monstrosity across the street seems more capable of disruption than most.
AO3 link here.
When the sign at number six, Meadow Close, switches from For Sale to Sale Pending, Dr. Valerie Oglethorpe, DDS, (please feel free to call her Dr. Oglethorpe) is of two minds. On the one hand, number six is currently an elaborate ruin of a house, a confection of turrets and too many windows neglected for so long that it can hardly be called a Victorian anymore, and new owners would certainly mean repairs so that Dr. Oglethorpe will no longer have to look out at such a blight on her street. On the other hand, the owners of numbers one through four have all been confirmed to be calm, normal people who leave for work somewhere between seven and eight, return between five thirty and six thirty, keep their lawns tidy, and never make a fuss except for the occasional barbecue, which suits Dr. Oglethorpe extremely well. With new neighbors, one is never certain what the outcome might be, and the purchase of such an impractical house is already a poor sign.
But the real estate agents and bank representatives don’t consult current residents about these sorts of things, so when the sign changes again from Sale Pending to Sold, Dr. Oglethorpe decides that she will make the best of whatever situation arises.
She happens to be out in her garden the first time a car pulls up in front of number six. Dr. Oglethorpe’s garden is extremely elaborate, with all the typical vegetables and flowers alongside multiple rare and interesting plants, and many of them are blooming in the late spring weather, forming a lush barrier which surrounds her property.
All that is to say that when Dr. Oglethorpe can see the new couple and they cannot see her, it is not spying in the traditional sense. It is certainly not purposeful. It would just become extremely awkward if she were to get up and make a spectacle of herself, so she stays quiet and still and watches them.
They are both on the taller side, and well-built. The man’s hair is blond, and the woman’s a lovely rich brown. Dr. Oglethorpe might not have the best eyesight anymore, but even from a distance she can tell that they are both quite good-looking. They stand side by side, peering up at the house. The woman puts her hands on her hips and says something that makes the man laugh, and then he takes her hand and they walk inside.
Dr. Oglethorpe seizes the opportunity to return to her own home. She’s finished her weeding, and of course the two of them will be back outside eventually and she isn’t sure she’s ready to greet them just yet. Better to get the reckoning of them first.
That her kitchen window offers an excellent view is, of course, coincidence. As, naturally, is the way her eyes look across the street throughout the morning, even though nothing visibly happens for a long while. Finally, towards mid-afternoon, the couple comes back out, arm in arm, returns to their car, and drives away.
Dr. Oglethorpe gives them decent markings for the first day, but she’s perfectly willing to reevaluate depending on what type of people these turn out to be.
There’s a near immediate drop in estimation the next time the couple appears. It is close to a week later when they drive up again, and they are accompanied by someone driving a pick-up truck with a construction company logo on the side. This time the man is dressed casually, in jeans and a slightly disheveled T-shirt. The woman has her hair covered by a bandana. Standing at the kitchen sink and distractedly rewashing the breakfast dishes, Dr. Oglethorpe gives reluctant approval to the idea that they are people with specific vision and a hands-on approach. They must be giving the construction chief an overview of the house before he begins with his crew, and she does appreciate that they’re dressed appropriately for wandering around what must be a pit of dust and mold and falling pieces of wood and wallpaper.
But after about an hour, once she is back at the kitchen table with a crossword, she hears an engine start up, and instead of seeing the couple drive away, it’s the man in the truck. The bed is empty, so he’s clearly unloaded his supplies and left them at the house, and when the sounds of a hammer and - mercy - a saw, begin, Dr. Oglethorpe is faced with the nasty truth.
Do-it-yourselfers. Fixing a loose hinge or installing an air conditioner on your own is one thing, but amateurs taking on a whole house? Dr. Oglethorpe certainly cannot approve.
Over the next weeks, Dr. Oglethorpe learns a few things. The woman’s name is Peggy. The man’s is Steve. They are very eager workers, arriving in the morning just after the last of the other neighbors have left for their offices, and driving off just before they return. They laugh with each other quite a bit - she can hear them no matter where they are in the house because of the broken windows - and they were polite enough to leave a note in her mailbox apologizing for the noise and mess, as if she were unaware that houses getting repaired will have a noisy, messy intermediary stage. She does not, of course, respond to the note.
She also learns that they have a large and eclectic group of friends who apparently lack regular jobs too.
Steve and Peggy work alone for about a week, wandering between the interior and exterior seemingly depending on weather and mood. But the following Monday, a back door to their car opens instead of just the front two and a man with shaggy brown hair pulled halfway back steps out. He stands on the sidewalk to look up at the house. Dr. Oglethorpe just catches a glimpse as she prunes a rosebush, but she thinks the man has some sort of prosthesis. She quickly applies herself back to the bush, making sure not to look up again until the three have gone into the house.
She can’t hear exactly what is being said, but there is indignant shouting, and a yelled response which is immediately followed by laughter, so she knows it’s playful.
Dr. Oglethorpe listens, but she can’t hear a difference in noise level signalling an extra hammer or a new set of boots on the floor. Perhaps the new man is just observing, or maybe she’s gotten used to the racket.
A few days later, a second car arrives in the morning. Steve, Peggy, their long-haired friend, and an African-American man come out of the first car, and a redheaded woman steps out of the other one.
The newest man elbows the barely kempt friend. Dr. Oglethorpe is checking on her pansies this morning, which are planted in a neat row at the front edge of her lawn, and the man has a carrying voice, so she is able to hear him say, “We usually don’t agree on much, but you’re right: this is a Project.”
Dr. Oglethorpe is not given to figures of speech, but imagines that she can actually hear the way he capitalizes the word. She quite agrees with him, actually.
Project or not, the newcomers roll up their sleeves and join in. To give them the benefit of the doubt, Dr. Oglethorpe will assume they are focusing on working from the outside in because she has seen very little improvement thus far, although they certainly are committed.
Peggy and Steve are there every weekday with the two men and the redhead as their most frequent assistants, but a new cast begins to rotate in as well. There’s a man who balances on the roof and spends two days removing shingles and then three fixing rotten pieces and replacing everything fresh. Dr. Oglethorpe keeps one horrified eye on him whether she’s inside or out because he works without a harness and spends much of his time making sarcastic remarks down to the ground or in through the windows instead of focusing on the task at hand. There’s a young woman who speaks accented English and has what Dr. Oglethorpe considers a suspiciously easy time lifting and carrying things; she remembers a piece on National Public Radio from several years ago about female bodybuilders, but the woman seems too slight for that. Occasionally a man drops by who has cropped blond hair, a boisterous voice and manner, and the most enjoyment from swinging a hammer that Dr. Oglethorpe has ever seen. (It’s getting hot, and he wears a sleeveless shirt. She would certainly believe that he could be a bodybuilder.)
Dr. Oglethorpe’s favorite and least favorite days are when a shiny sedan screeches up mid-morning. She quickly becomes familiar with the dark haired man who acts taller than he is, the bright, controlled, blonde woman, and their three children, who pile puppylike out of the car and run shrieking into the house. There’s always much chaos when the family is around, but something about the energy is catching, too. Dr. Oglethorpe sometimes finds herself humming when the little ones are around the site, and she is distinctly not in the habit of such things.
Perhaps to the other residents of Meadow Close, things at number six progress quickly. Popping in and out as they do, seeing the house mostly in pale or waning light on the way to or from the car - perhaps they imagine it like a flip book. Dr. Oglethorpe, on the other hand, is surprised when she goes out with her trowel and her sunhat one morning and finds that she has an actual house across the street from her. After much sampling and flicking around of paint, Peggy and Steve chose a rich green for the main body of the house, although there were plenty of Victorian frills and finishings to which everyone has added accent colors. Dr. Oglethorpe can pick out yellow, rose, and beige, and while one might be forgiven for wondering if it might look haphazard with so many people chipping in, it actually looks quite well done, at least from a distance. Dr. Oglethorpe chalks this up to Peggy standing outside with a plan in hand and directing the whole lot of them.
There are a few days where the house just rests on its own, and Dr. Oglethorpe thinks that she should take advantage of the respite before Steve and Peggy officially move in. She reads the New York Times in full the way she has every day since she married in 1960. She does the crossword completely, in pen, and makes a grocery list for when she does her shopping tomorrow. She goes out to the garden, as always. But it is all too quiet. She ends up bringing out a portable radio and tuning it to the classical station. She knows that listening to music is good for the plants; so interesting that she hadn’t tried this years ago.
Peggy and Steve move their furniture in on a Friday. Dr. Oglethorpe watches it come out of the truck, much of it in Steve’s apparently extremely strong arms, though Peggy certainly carries her share as well. They’ve chosen solid pieces, vintage, she supposes one calls it these days, although Dr. Oglethorpe prefers to just think of it as classic and well-constructed. They have everything inside by the afternoon, and presumably are arranging things until fairly late; the house is lit up, but the newly installed windows make it hard to hear the scrapings of furniture or the conversation of her new neighbors.
Saturday morning, Dr. Oglethorpe rises at 7:30, her weekend wakeup time, and knows that she will have to bake something. She takes down the old recipe book and finds the instructions for a coffee cake. It is out of the oven by 9, but she leaves it to rest until 10 because she isn’t certain how late young people sleep these days. But surely any later than that would be absurd...
At 10:05, Dr. Oglethorpe, dressed in a blouse and skirt, climbs the steps at number six for the first time and rings the doorbell. It has a pleasant chime, and she’s glad it worked out; she heard someone cursing a blue streak for an entire afternoon while fiddling with the wiring.
“Good morning,” says Dr. Oglethorpe when Peggy comes to the door looking fresh in a silky T-shirt and jeans. Despite the modern clothing, she looks not like the image on the cover of a grocery store checkout magazine, but like the composed, inviting, friendly women in the catalogs of the 1950s. “I’m Dr. Oglethorpe. I suppose we’re neighbors now.”
“Peggy Carter,” says Peggy, and Dr. Oglethorpe tries to arrange her face into polite interest, as if this is new information. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
Dr. Oglethorpe hefts up her cargo, presenting the cake for inspection. ““Likewise. I’ve brought a cake, to welcome you to the street.”
“How kind.” Peggy takes the cake with care. Dr. Oglethorpe is proud of the way the cinnamon wafts enticingly through the air. Peggy glances over her shoulder. “Perhaps I could wait to serve it? We’re having a housewarming tomorrow, and you would be welcome to come meet my husband and our friends. It could also serve as a bit of an apology for the mess we’ve been making over the past few months.”
“How kind,” Dr. Oglethorpe echoes, hitching her handbag strap over her shoulder. “But I really couldn’t intrude.” She doesn’t mention that she hasn’t eaten sweets since her husband, Dr. Martin Oglethorpe, DMD, (please feel free to call him Marty, everyone did) who was the baker between them, passed away. Instead, she backs off the porch quickly, before Peggy can protest. “Enjoy the cake.”
Returned to her own familiar kitchen, Dr. Oglethorpe replays the interaction. She has been watching Peggy for all these months, and she didn’t know until just now that she has a warm, full smile, and a glint in her eye that reminds Dr. Oglethorpe of sneaking out at night, giggling, with her sister Laurel.
It is obvious when the time for the housewarming approaches. The now-familiar cars pull up, dispelling the now-familiar cast of regulars, along with some new faces. Steve or Peggy pulls open the door for each new arrival, and a cheer goes up from inside the house every time.
Around the three, as Steve comes out of the house, calling over his shoulder back through the front door before getting into the car and driving off, Dr. Oglethorpe walks into the garden. She’s elected to take advantage of the slightly cooler weather now that the sun has started to move from the top of the sky. She checks her irrigation system carefully, and looks over the last of her summer vegetables to make sure that they haven’t been revisited by bugs.
Everything looks fine, but she notices that her flower beds are getting a bit bedraggled and decides to go get her shears to do some deadheading.
Dr. Oglethorpe is, as might be expected, extremely familiar with her lawn. But sometimes an animal, not realizing that it is trespassing in her domain, will make some unexpected changes.
The burrow catches her by such surprise that she falls before she can even feel startled, but by the time she is on the ground, she’s quite aware of the pain. For a moment, she regrets not having one of those emergency call buttons that her daughter Joan (Dr. Oglethorpe hasn’t been allowed to call her Joanie in years) recommends when she makes her monthly call from Columbus, or at least a cellular phone.
She is looking around, trying to find something to support her so she can make her way into the house and call for medical attention, when she hears a voice say, “Hello?”
Her immediate instinct is to stay very quiet and hope that the person goes away. But then she remembers that some assistance would actually be, for once, appreciated. “Hello,” she calls back, trying to sound firm about it.
A moment later, Steve finds his way up her front path and around her bushes. He has a large bag of ice in one arm.
“Sorry to intrude, but my wife sent me out on an errand,” he says, gesturing to the bag, “and I just drove back up and thought I heard a sound.”
Dr. Oglethorpe hadn’t thought that she had made much of a sound (she fell on grass, and she is a fairly light person) but it’s convenient all the same. “Yes,” she says. “I just had a bit of a tumble. If you wouldn’t mind helping me up, I’ll go in the house and call emergency services.”
“Oh.” Steve looks troubled. “Can I wait with you until they come? I heard on the radio that there was some kind of accident on the highway, and I think the ambulances might be a little tied up, so it could be a while.” He brightens. “Or you could come wait with us across the street. There are plenty of people, and now plenty of ice.”
His smile is very charming, but Dr. Oglethorpe has remained unswayed by even better ones. (Perhaps not, but it sounds good. Up close he is both very attractive and increasingly familiar, although she can’t quite place from where...)
Aiming for calm conviction, she says, “Thank you for the offer, but if you’ll just give a hand, I think I’ll be fine.”
Though looking troubled again, Steve continues balancing the sack of ice in one hand and manages to politely but firmly wrap an arm around her waist and pull her to her feet. She sways for a moment, leaning on him more than she expected to, but then regains her balance and gives a nod to indicate that they can start to move across the grass.
He is very careful to skirt her various plants, which she appreciates. After a moment, he says, “I’m sorry if I didn’t introduce myself before, Dr. Oglethorpe. I’m Steve. Steve Rogers. I think you met my wife Peggy this morning.”
“Oh yes.” Dr. Oglethorpe says it as if she meets pretty new women with glints in their eyes all the time. “She seems nice.”
“Better than I deserve,” he says, and unlike so many men Dr. Oglethorpe has met in her time, including her son-in-law, he sounds as if he means it. “There was a while—years, actually—when I didn’t think we’d get to have any of this.” There’s something distant and haunted lurking in his tone. Then he shakes his head to chase it away and finishes, “I know just how lucky I am to be her husband.”
They’re moving slowly - Dr. Oglethorpe wasn’t very good at hopping when she was a spry young thing, and now each new jump requires a gathering of energy and a slight jarring of her ever more fragile bones - and Steve seems as if he wants to simply carry her, but she stares determinedly forward and continues.
“Your garden is amazing,” he says after a few moments. “How long have you had it?”
“Marty— Martin— My husband and I moved to the street in 1962, just after they’d completed our house. Yours was already there, of course,” she adds. “It’s historic; they couldn’t tear it down, so they built the street around it instead. Anyway, I knew that I wanted a garden, so I started with just some simple local flowers and a few vegetables, and continued from there.”
“Did you grow up with a garden?”
“Oh.” This is more small talk than she was expecting. “In a manner of speaking. I was a child during the war, the Second World War, and it was recommended that every family start growing their own produce.”
“Sure,” he says with a nod. “Victory gardens.”
“Are you a student of history?”
“You could say that.” She notices for the first time a bit of a glint like the one in Peggy’s eyes.
She shakes her head and continues, leaning on him more heavily as they switch from the grass to the less forgiving stone of the path. “I grew up in the city so we only had a little patch in front of my house, and a few window boxes, but looking after them came to be my favorite chore. Of course,” she says, eager that he be clear about this, “growing your own food was never as important in this country as it was in other places.” Her mother’s family had been English, and her father still had cousins in Holland, and the stories that they told, even years after the war, about rationing and grass soup and children making themselves sick on rich food after VE Day, had been dreadful. “But every little bit helped, and I became quite proud of the things I’d grown.”
“The flowers are also beautiful,” he says, gesturing with the hand encumbered by the ice, which is now beginning to drip down his arm. “We finished up the house pretty nicely, but I’ve been thinking about the landscaping. Peggy - my wife—” She likes the way he smiles a bit every time he says the words. “I think she’d like some roses, maybe on either side of the porch steps. If you have any advice, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’d certainly be glad to help.” She begins to think about whether any of her varietals would be good candidates for cutting and replanting.
They are at the front steps now. Steve says, “Are you sure that I can’t sit with you? Just until the ambulance gets here?”
She is so close to her own house that if she balanced correctly, she could reach out and turn the doorknob right now. She could likely bring herself inside and handle everything on her own, without this man she’s only just met, although she knows so much about him already. But her house will be so quiet and Joanie isn’t scheduled to call until next week, so instead she says, “Well, I wouldn’t want to take you away from your party, but I might appreciate some company.”
“I think I have a compromise, then.”
Moments later, after Steve has supported her down her front path, across the cul-de-sac, up his own walkway and front steps, he opens the door and calls, “Peg?”
Peggy breaks away from a conversation and comes over to the doorway. “I was wondering what happened to you. I wouldn’t put it past you to get into a situation at the convenience store.”
“The situation was a bit more local, I’m afraid,” Dr. Oglethorpe says dryly, extending her ankle as delicately as she can. It’s swollen and beginning to bruise quite spectacularly.
“Well, we can certainly help with that,” Peggy says. There’s a distinct air about her as if she’d say the same thing if someone had arrived on her doorstep with a bucket of nuclear waste or a grenade with the pin out. She opens the door wider and Steve makes himself small so they can both fit inside without jarring anything.
She’d never been inside the original house - the couple who’d last lived there, back in the eighties, had been flighty and barely stayed there a year before they ran out of money and left the house to molder in care of the bank - but what Steve and Peggy have done is marvelous. The big windows let in the remaining sun, lighting up the polished wood floors and the banister of the staircase which leads majestically upward. The large living room to the left and the dining room to the right are filled with chattering people and trays of food.
“Shove over,” Peggy says politely to a man seated in one of the living room armchairs. “We need the chair.” Dr. Oglethorpe realizes with a start that it is the shaggy-haired man, cleaned and pressed for the occasion.
“I’m so sorry,” she says automatically, keeping hold of Peggy’s arm. She can’t quite remember when she was moved from Steve’s charge into Peggy’s. “What a nuisance.”
“He can be quite a nuisance himself,” Peggy assures her, and the man smiles as they settle Dr. Oglethorpe into the chair. “Bucky, this is Dr. Oglethorpe. She lives across the street.”
Dr. Oglethorpe shakes his hand, barely noticing the strange prosthesis on full display as she finally puts a name to the person she’s known for months now. She looks around the party and realizes how familiar these people are, these people who have put in time and muscle and love into making a home for Steve and Peggy. There’s the redhead who fixed nearly the whole porch on her own and keeps glancing at it with satisfaction, and the black man who patiently climbed up and down a ladder over the course of several days, moving it incrementally around the house as Peggy pointed out areas where the paint needed to be fixed. Standing far across the room, telling an animated story, is the father of the three children, who made all the lights work after an electrical fiasco. (He, too, looks somehow familiar. Is he perhaps a television personality? She doesn’t watch with any frequency, and can’t see very well regardless, so she can’t be sure.)
Steve walks back into the room holding a phone, and some of his less melted ice in a bag covered in a towel. As he comes to hand it to her, he says, “I just called the ambulance, Dr. Oglethorpe, but like I said, they might be a while,” and she rests her palm on his wrist. “Please, call me Valerie,” she tells him. “We are neighbors, after all.”
#steggyweek2k18#Steggy fic#Steve Rogers#Peggy Carter#Steve/Peggy#there's no reason that Dr. Oglethorpe should sound British AND YET...!
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