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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Last Kingdom: How Historically Accurate is the Netflix Drama?

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Den of Geek is speaking to Professor Ryan Lavelle about Early Medieval ruler ealdorman Aethelred of Mercia. “The leading question I think you’re asking,” he laughs, “is was he really such a complete shit?”

That’s exactly the question we’re asking. In Netflix historical drama The Last Kingdom, “complete shit” doesn’t begin to cover Aethelred. Toby Regbo’s character in the series is a cowardly, scheming, abusive rapist who tries to have his wife murdered and plots to overthrow his father-in-law, King Alfred of Wessex. Aethelred’s a dangerous egotist driven by self-regard, with no concern for his people. But what say the history books? Is there evidence that the real Aethelred was such a swine?

There is not. In fact, sources suggest that Aethelred cooperated with his wife, and may well have done the bidding of King Alfred as a kind of puppet king. The TV series, and the Bernard Cornwell novels on which it’s based, have clearly employed dramatic licence. Does the portrayal worry Lavelle, a lecturer in Early Medieval History at the University of Winchester, and The Last Kingdom’s historical advisor?

“There is an inevitability that people sometimes engage more with the characters as they’ve been represented in the drama than with the actual historical characters, but this is something that allows a kind of hook,” says Lavelle. “I want people to use it to engage with the actual history.”

With that in mind, Professor Lavelle clues us in on the actual history and separates The Last Kingdom’s fact from fiction…

Uhtred is fictional, but inspired by a real historical figure

“Uhtred is a significant person in Northumbria in the early 11th century so there certainly was a historical Uhtred, just not in the 9th century. Most of the Northumbrians in this period had to have some kind of Danish connection in order to survive, so it’s likely he did.”

King Alfred did suffer from ill health

“There’s enough evidence to be able to say that Alfred was affected by bouts of chronic ill health. That could be part of Alfred’s outlook as a Christian ruler in terms of his sense of intense internal Christianity and his sense of introspection as a ruler.”

Alfred did seek to unite the kingdoms into one England

“Towards the end of his reign, Alfred is calling himself the King of the Anglo-Saxons, ‘Rex Angul-Saxonum’ is the term. It’s potentially a term that means him being a king of the Angles in Mercia and the Saxons in Wessex, looking towards a larger kingdom, a larger realm.”

There may be historical evidence for Osferth being King Alfred’s illegitimate son

“That came from a suggestion by Jinty Nelson back in the 1980s. There was the appearance of a certain Osferth in the will of King Alfred where he’s referred to as ‘my kinsman’. It’s possible, but it’s equally possible that he might just be some more distant relation. It does bring in the historical evidence for Alfred as a young man – as indicated in Asser’s biography of Alfred – that he is said to have regretted his earlier wild youth!”

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An Anglo-Saxon Chronicle was written during Alfred’s reign

“There’s a lot of evidence for a kind of new form of kingship in Alfred’s reign, a lot of thinking about what it means to be a king, and the king of a Christian people. With that went this idea of the works of the English – things that were associated with English culture and the English language. It’s not so much turning away from Latin, it’s more thinking about the use of English as something which could unite, initially, his subjects in Wessex.”

Alfred probably didn’t burn the cakes, but it’s part of historical legend

“It’s apocryphal in the Anglo-Saxon period, but there is a 10th century account of Alfred burning the cakes in the life of an obscure Cornish Saint called Saint Neot. It probably didn’t happen with Alfred, but it shows that people in the 10th century were talking about Alfred’s life and retelling stories which then weave their way into legends within four or five generations of his lifetime.”

Aelswith would have advised son Edward on how to rule

“The idea of a Queen’s guidance is an important aspect of early Medieval royal power. Sometimes royal women were provided with far more legal authority as a result of a queenly title. That aspect of a Queen, or King’s wife being there at the court emerges in the historical records at different times in the Anglo-Saxon period.”

There’s no reason to think that Aethelflaed’s daughter wasn’t Aethelred’s biological child

“Historical question about the paternity? Sadly, I don’t think there is. I think that’s invented. I can’t remember whether it’s invented by Bernard or invented for the series.”

Aethelflaed, Lady of Mercia, was a real inspirational leader

“There is a version of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle written from a Mercian perspective that really plays up Aethelflaed’s achievements, which indicates that there were people looking toward her as an inspirational leader.

In a version of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle in the 10th century, there’s a reference to the loss of the thanes, or warriors, who were dearest to her at the taking of Derby, so there’s a sense of that lordly relationship. It’s interesting that the word ‘Lady’ or ‘hlǣfdīġe’ is used for her because that is the female equivalent of the word ‘Lord’, and lordship is that bond that holds the warrior society together in this period.”

Aethelred likely worked for Alfred and didn’t plot against him

“Aethelred is a figure who sort of becomes beholden to Alfred. There is a suggestion that he’s not actually from a royal lineage and may have been from a noble family in Western Mercia. Potentially Alfred was doing the same as the Vikings did with puppet kings elsewhere and bringing in Aethelred. Aethelred was basically Alfred’s man in Mercia.

The disappearance of the shadowy Ceolwulf II, the King of Mercia, is one of the great mysteries of the late 9th century. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle – so, Alfred’s perspective on it – plays Ceolwulf down and talks of him as a foolish king’s thane, but actually he seems to have been reasonably independent. Just after the battle of Edington – Ethandun – Ceolwulf is disappeared and Aethelred appears on the scene.”

There’s no evidence that Aethelred was a cruel husband to Aethelflaed

“The thing to mention here is that Aethelred and Aethelflaed seem to have cooperated, they seem to have had a joint position and that’s probably because in order for Aethelred to have some sort of quasi-royal authority in Mercia, he’d have to emphasise Aethelflaed, his legitimate wife with royal blood, in his position there.”

Roman-style Shield Walls may not have been as popular a military tactic with the Danes

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“There seems to be evidence for closely overlapped shields in Early Medieval warfare, but the shield wall is a very literal interpretation of an old Norse term of ‘skjaldborg’ or ‘shield fortress’. It’s probably just a poetic term, though it does get interpreted by a few books about Viking age warfare. I’m not convinced that they would necessarily do that kind of ‘holding the shields above their heads’ with quite the sense of Roman military precision. Partly, because it would make you very vulnerable to being charged very quickly. But it’s an interpretation.”

Read more from Professor Lavelle on The Last Kingdom at History Extra.

The post The Last Kingdom: How Historically Accurate is the Netflix Drama? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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bittersweetsky3 · 5 years ago

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my breakdown of the uswnt players

ashlyn harris: big gay, “most beautiful brick wall we’ve ever seen” -kyle krieger, underrated goalkeeper, bitch™, 1/2 of “pookie”, 1/2 of krashlyn, loves babies and would be the best mom

ali krieger: kriegs, kriegy, kriegyboo, best right back in the world? yes. tough as nails and had the final touches on the ball during the world cup after not being called up for 2 years, won’t ever be seen without her mascara, softie, 1/2 of krashlyn, apparently can play forward as of the uswnt vs ireland victory tour game??? okay

mallory pugh: baby, made uswnt debut at 17, mini trackstar, i can definitely see her as a future alex morgan in terms of goals, dork, somehow managed to be on the national team and be in college at the same time

tobin heath: the coolest cat there ever was, will break your ankles and steal your soul, nutmeg queen ™, looks like she will kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll, surfer dude, dresses like a frat guy, 1/2 of harry, 1/2 of preath, came out of the womb in her tar heels jersey, loves jordan (basketball), and remember kids— you can’t copy cool.

christen press: peace? she is peace, yoga god, can run 32mph and will make you look like an idiot trying to catch her, soft but isn’t afraid to steal your soul with a nutmeg, def watches marie kondo, 1/2 of preath, stanford—actually set their all time scoring record

alex morgan: janice, radiates big gay energy but is surprisingly straight, 100 goals and counting, every goal keepers worst nightmare, looks like she will kill you but is actually soft, a big dork, pink headband ™ , the most popular of the bunch and honestly, rightly so. this woman is a fricking superstar.

emily sonnett: sonny, son, dasani, self proclaimed sit down comedian, frat daddy jr, a walking meme, uswnt professional hype man, big dumbass but we love her, kelley is training her in defense, will score goals in the most random yet most crucial of times (see portland thorns fc playoffs)

kelley o’hara: frat daddy, KO, kevin, karen from legal, worms, scare queen, middle child “we need a bitch, get kelley” -jill ellis, a medical miracle— somehow survived a concussion during the world cup final and then proceeded to drink for the next 7 days to celebrate, will never have to pay for beer ever again, chaotic, mother of her adopted crackheads (sonnett & rose), iconically kissed her girlfriend after the world cup win, stanford, great long balls for assists, has played every position except goalkeeper, brick wall

lindsey horan: THE GREAT HORAN, linessi (for her love of messi), sneaky, best midfielder in my opinion, killer foot, player with the second most number of fouls in the nwsl but also one of the most fouled, amazing assists and headers, went pro straight out of high school bc she’s just great like that, won the ball in duels 116 more times than anyone else in the league (nwsl)

tierna davidson: little t, t, baby gay™, pulls her injured girlfriend around in a wagon, stanford, calm, def a book nerd, probably the most normal out of the bunch, baby becky, under the radar but i can see her becoming big in the future—becky is training her, owns a kelley o’hara stanford jersey and loves it maybe more than anything

allie long: wine mom, 1/2 of harry, 1/2 of pookie, not much to say about her tbh, great passes, loves scaring people, hangs with kelley and alex a lot, content provider, doesn’t get a whole lot of minutes anymore but when she does get them, she doesn’t often disappoint, solid defense most of the time

sam mewis: tower of power, panic petunia, tallest women’s soccer player in history, pale besties with rose, great midfielder, will take the ball from you mid-game if you’re just standing there and not doing anything with it (see wwc final), scored in the top 1% of an IQ test the uswnt and usmnt held, loves reading and harry potter, chaotic when with rose & sonnett

rose lavelle: sweet baby rose, def the next generation of greatness, pale af and she knows it, dork, loves her dog, wilma, more than anything in the world, killer left foot, loves twitter, she’s from ohio and proud of it (i’m biased lol)

crystal dunn: dunny, constantly dancing, has played every position besides goalkeeper—sometimes multiple in one game, worked her ass off to make the 2019 world cup roster after being cut in 2015, bitch is drowning in awards (like seriously, this girl is amazing), underrated friendship with tobin

becky sauerbrunn: broon, usually rolls her sleeves, fishtail braid that she’s not afraid to whip in your face, the united states secretary of defense, loves cats and science fiction, nobody makes her bleed her own blood, got cut in the world cup final and still played the rest of the game despite needing 6 stitches, sophisticated, legally not allowed to leave us until she gets a goal

alyssa naeher: uncle, loves her crosswords, underrated, underestimated, under appreciated, saved our asses in the world cup game against england, quiet but soft

julie ertz: JJ, invented marriage, tough as nails, blue headband ™, will slide tackle anyone who enters her field of vision, she is usually bleeding by the end of a game, uses her body as a weapon, killer headers when she gets the chance, occasionally dresses like a frat guy

abby dahlkemper: bellpepper, this girl beat a sepsis infection and the chance of losing her leg. if that doesn’t say bad ass, idk what will. flies under the radar most of the time but plays some great long balls, especially for alex

carli lloyd: carlos, carla, oldest player on the team and she’s still got it, probably will retire soon :( , loves ice baths, queen of new jersey, beast from the east, can score from midfield and has, truly just legendary and did so much for women’s soccer

morgan brian: moe, bean, second most normal of the bunch, don’t really get to see her play much but when she does, she’s tricky, loves pick up soccer, even though she’s young, she’s a ‘15er, one of four to ever win the MAC hermann trophy two years in a row, kinda died (metaphorically) for a bit and everyone sorta forgot about her after the 2015 world cup but we still love her!

megan rapinoe: pinoe, sorta controversial, love her or hate her, she gets the job done, outspoken, NOT going to the white house, so proud of her younger teammates, big goals, big moments, leaves an impression, occasionally referred to as president pinoe, dating sue bird of the wmba

adrianna franch: AD, one of our goalkeepers, doesn’t get a lot of minutes but that doesn’t mean she’s not good— if you want to see her in action, watch a portland thorns fc game!! chill, funny, engaged to her gorgeous girlfriend

jessica macdonald: jmac, the only mom on the team, doesn’t play often so there’s not much to say about her but she does really well on her club team (north carolina courage), chill

let me know if i forgot anything!!

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dippedanddripped · 5 years ago

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In the brief history of street culture, Hitomi Yokoyama is one of its most prominent hidden figures. If Hiroshi Fujiwara is considered the de facto “godfather of Japanese streetwear,” Yokoyama is most definitely its godmother. A contemporary of UNDERCOVER founder Jun Takahashi and Tomoaki “NIGO” Nagao — who would go on to establish A Bathing Ape and Human Made — Yokoyama was at the forefront of Tokyo’s Ura-Harajuku movement that gave rise to Japan’s cadre of covetable brands like WTAPS, Neighborhood, Bounty Hunter, and countless others.

As a teenager growing up in Tokyo’s Yotsuya neighborhood, Yokoyama became fixated with the British punk bands she saw on TV and heard on the radio. “I was listening to The Clash, Adam & The Ants, and The Sex Pistols,” she says. “The first thing in fashion I got really excited about was Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood’s clothing I saw Johnny Rotten wearing.”

It was through seminal Japanese magazines like Takarajima that she got put onto McLaren and Westwood’s Seditionaries clothing line and SEX shop in World’s End. She also discovered “Last Orgy,” an influential Takarajima column started by Hiroshi Fujiwara. It was basically a cheat sheet of what brands, bands, and trends were about to blow up.

But Yokoyama didn’t just read about what was cool — she lived it, too, exploring Tokyo’s underground nightlife at clubs like Picasso and Nabaron, which played everything from ska, rockabilly, and reggae to the hottest bands in London at the time. The scene got her close to Jun Takahashi and future Bounty Hunter founder Hikaru Iwanaga, who played in a tribute band called the Tokyo Sex Pistols, and NIGO, who sometimes stepped in as their drummer. Yokoyama remembers how the now-icons dressed at the time, recalling Takahashi as a would-be Johnny Rotten and Iwanaga as a stand-in for Sid Vicious.

“This kind of place was more like a culture school than just a club,” she says. It’s where she learned how to dress and met like-minded people who shared the same passions, like Vivienne Westwood and punk. “It was a real life social network in the days before the internet.”

NIGO and Takahashi had met at Tokyo’s prestigious Bunka Fashion College, the same institution that produced Yohji Yamamoto and Junya Watanabe. Yokoyama worked at a hair school in the neighborhood called Ciao Bambina, which doubled as a community hub for area youth, since their parents weren’t allowed in. NIGO got his hair cut there, and Yokoyama admits she used to steal a product called Rock Gel, a hard hair gel ideal for Takahashi’s avant-garde punk hairstyles.

At the same time, Takahashi and NIGO were becoming a dynamic duo in their own right. They had taken the reins of Fujiwara’s “Last Orgy” column and brought it to Popeye magazine (the newer, younger answer to Takarajima) under the moniker “Last Orgy 2.” It was clear they had the juice now, so under Fujiwara’s mentorship they turned their platform into a first-of-its-kind retail concept: NOWHERE.

Before that store opened, Yokoyama remembers the small network of streets as a neighborhood with hidden gems interspersed throughout. There was Hitomi Okawa’s MILK, Nobuhiko Kitamura’s Hysteric Glamour, and punk boutique A Store Robot, which Yokoyama frequented. But NOWHERE began the evolution of Harajuku’s backstreets into an in-the-know shopping destination. The shop launched both Takahashi’s UNDERCOVER and NIGO’s A Bathing Ape.

“Jun started making clothes on a domestic sewing machine, making one-off items. He was a genius at an early age,” remembers Yokoyama. “Then you had NIGO, who was a massive expert on vintage clothing and had great style.”

The Ura-Harajuku scene and the brands to emerge from it would expand from a small underground community to a huge global movement, and Yokoyama would play a crucial part in that transition when she moved to London in 1993.

“My plan was to study English and go to make up school,” she explains. “One day, I was walking down the street and I met a guy called Barnzley. He recognized my Seditionaries clothes and was very curious about my UNDERCOVER clothes.”

Fate made it so that one of the first people Yokoyama met in London was one of its most well-connected people. Simon “Barnzley” Armitage is a fixture of London’s club scene and its underground subculture. As a shop guy for Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren, he took advantage of the store’s screen printer to make bootleg Chanel T-shirts before getting into deconstructing clothes. He’s donned many hats and worked on numerous projects throughout the years, including co-founding the label A Child of the Jago with Joe Corre — Westwood and McLaren’s punk progeny.

Yokoyama’s Seditionaries fit caught his eye immediately, and they connected over a shared love of clothes, music, and punk culture. Yokoyama was still looking for a room, and Barnzley actually had an opening at his flat, recently vacated by Spanish artist Luciana Martinez de la Rosa.

“I think Hitomi was quite happy to move into a flat full of cool clothes, art, and records,” recalls Barnzley. “Maybe not so happy I kept her up all night with loud music, girls, insane pop stars, and messy graffiti artists.”

Yokoyama admits she didn’t get much sleep thanks to the loud music, but describes the London she found as “like Disneyland.” With Barnzley as her cultural sherpa, she rubbed shoulders with Joe Corre, Nellee Hooper of The Wild Bunch, Paul Cook of The Sex Pistols, Primal Scream’s Bobby Gillespie, and Paul Simonon of The Clash. Many of the figures she previously only read about, that seemed worlds away in the translated pages of Japanese glossies, now became face-to-face acquaintances.

“Everybody seemed to be a pop star, artist or model,” she says. “It was nonstop ’til 4 a.m. most nights.”

In addition to putting Yokoyama on to London’s hippest clubs and clothing stores, Barnzley also introduced her to Cuts, an underground hair salon that was pretty much the city’s answer to Tokyo’s Ciao Bambina. Founded by the late James Lebon, younger brother of fashion photographer Mark Lebon, he created a template for a new breed of alternative hairdressers. Inspired by the DIY ethos of punk, Cuts was the first in a new type of independent hairdressers whose multi-ethnic aesthetic chimed with that of Ray Petri’s wabi-sabi Buffalo style.

“It was a hub for street fashion as there were shoots for i-D and The Face. It was also where you’d find out information on clubs, clothes, and all that culture,” Yokoyama says. “Working there was more like a very fashionable club than a hairdresser. It was my introduction to fashionable London.”

International Stüssy Tribe member Michael Kopelman was also a Cuts regular. In 1989, he founded Gimme 5 as a distribution company, spreading the gospel of Japanese streetwear by introducing brands like Neighborhood, UNDERCOVER, visvim, BAPE, and Hiroshi Fujiwara’s GOODENOUGH into ahead-of-the-game boutiques like Hit and Run (later renamed The Hideout). By 1995, Kopelman and Yokoyama’s mutual appreciation had grown to the point where he felt comfortable enough offering her a job. “We were both into similar things from Japan. Nobody else in London was,” he says succinctly.

With no previous background in art (and never even having worked on a computer before), Yokoyama’s strong sensibilities informed what would become Gimme 5’s aesthetic. Inspired by everything from Eames chairs, old record sleeves, and comic books, she taught herself to use programs like Illustrator, eventually designing a Gimme 5 clothing logo cribbed from Jack Kirby’s Fantastic Four comics. Her work went on to impress her friends back in Japan, leading to graphic work for UNDERCOVER, A Bathing Ape, Real Mad Hectic, and Let It Ride as well as New York brands like aNYthing.

By the mid-2000s, Yokoyama received a major profile boost when she designed a purple and maroon Air Stab for Nike’s sought-after 2006 Air-U-Breathe pack. She was inspired by the lightness of the sneaker, as well as images of rabbits and cats jumping around in her head, leading to the striking graphic on the heel she describes as “paws with eyes.” She followed it up in 2008 with a mostly gray Air Max 90 Current created under Nike’s Co-Lab program for the Beijing Olympics.

Despite her impressive pedigree, Hitomi Yokoyama’s work seems largely swept under the rug in the story of streetwear. Perhaps that’s because she’s always gone under the pseudonym “HIT.” It was a conscious decision on her part, creating an air of mystery around this cryptic, Japanese designer in the vein of a SK8THING or SKOLOCT.

“I started working with all these men’s brands and they wanted to the put the designer’s name on the shirts,” she says. “There weren’t many females around at the time, and I was worried that people from that scene would not take me seriously if they knew I was female. So with the alias HIT, I would not be discriminated against; it’s genderless.”

Yokoyama’s most prolific collabs aren’t just with products, but people. Through her friendships in Tokyo and London, she helped foster long-lasting relationships, like linking Mo Wax impresario James Lavelle and NYC graffiti writer Stash with NIGO. She also became especially close with the late, legendary stylist Judy Blame, who was the inspiration for Dior’s Fall/Winter 2020 men’s collection. Yokoyama is in the final stages of her own Judy Blame tribute, a brand called Available Nowhere that uses Blame’s archive on a series of T-shirts, jackets, shirts, and scarves.

Whatever she’s doing, Hitomi Yokoyama is eternally grateful for the chances London gave her as a wide-eyed young woman from Tokyo. She admits that if things hadn’t worked out abroad, she’d have probably moved back to Tokyo and worked at a Shinjuku sushi restaurant. Now she wants to pay that kindness forward to the next generation.

“I hope to work with artists, designers, and interesting people who might be not well-known,” she says. “I want to help young people with lots of energy learn from old people with experience.”

Words: Andy Thomas

#undercover #james lavelle #nigo #a bathing ape #bathing ape #Hitomi Yokoyama #streetwear designers #women in streetwear #stash #aNYthing #real mad hectic #urbanwear blog

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blaze-art · 4 years ago

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So I love MySims, so I made a MC character: Jolene Streelman

More info below

Jolene is Blaze's protagonist of MySims, MySims Kingdom, MySims Agents, and MySims Skyheroes. Despite her feminine appearance and interests that one might consider "Dorky", she's not afraid to get into some high energy situations should the need arise. She cares a lot about her fellow sims and always wants the best for them.

Mysims

Name: Jolene Streelman

Nicknames: Jojo, Jo

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Interest Choice: Fun (Loves), Geeky (Likes), Spooky (Dislikes)

Personality:Caring, Kind, Slightly tomboyish, Sensible, Curious, Judgmental, A little impatient, A little overzealous

Known Family: Unknown

Best Friends: Travis, Roxie, Vic, Makoto

Friends: Violet Nightshade, Poppy Nightshade, Candy, Annie, Beebee, Summer, Jimmy Wantanabe, Ginny, Bean

Enemies: Yuki and Morcubus

Rivals: Esma and Brandi

Crush: Buddy

Loves: Seeing people happy, Helping others, Discovering new things, Books, Soda, Adventures, Music, Having fun (when it's a good time to do so, though), Her friends, Buddy.

Hates: Immaturity, Nonsense, Distractions, Bullies, People getting hurt, Abuses of power, Things taking longer than they should, Laziness, Cocky people

Japanese Seiyuu: Hitomi Nabatame (Mana Aida/Cure Heart)

English Voice Actress: Cherami Leigh Kuehn (Komaru Naegi, slightly adjusted)

Townie sim info (If she weren't the protag)

Jolene will come to your town once it's reaches 1 star

Jolene is a Fun townie sim

Profile:

"Jolene is a down-to-earth girl with a heart of gold. Once she heard about the once desecrated town flourishing once again, she couldn't be anymore happier! Seeing everyone so glee and blissful always puts a smile on her face, when they're happy, she is too. Don't let her looks fool you, she's not afraid to get dangerous if it means protecting the ones she holds dear. She likes to have fun as much as the next guy, but only when it's a good time to do so. As when she has a goal, she hates all matter of distractions that keep her away from accomplishing it."

Quotes:

Move In:

"Hey there! I'm Jolene, but you can call me "Jojo" or "Jo" for short. I came here as soon as I heard the news, I say with a bit of teamwork and some elbow grease, we can get this town bustling in no time! "

Accept Move In:

"Thank you so much for letting me stay! I'll make sure I can help you whenever I can "

Request For More Things:

"I say a couple of things here and there is in order"

Becoming Best Friends:

"You're the best, <player name>! If you ever need me, i'll be there!"

Star Level 4:

"I would like a pet, but I have no idea what to get. A cat? A dog? A turtle? There's so much to choose!"

"When i'm alone, I like to read books. My favorite is this one about this girl who falls down a hole and meets a bunch of strange people, Somehow i'm always forgetting the title of it..."

"I'm thinking about taking some aerobics classes, you never know when you need to do..."parkour"? Is that the word?" "I enjoy a bit of soda every now and again, it's a rush of energy straight to the heart. I'm not much of a coffee person so soda acts as my pick-me-up"

Star Lavel 5:

"Can you keep a secret? I think the bellhop is pretty cute..."

"You know, I always wanted to be like those girls you see in shows, the ones that can take down a legion of bad guys with nothing but the power of friendship. I guess that's why I love to help people"

"You ever just daydream and think about the future with someone you really like? I do that all the time" "Gee..Most of the spooky villagers in this town are just major jerks! There are exceptions of course! But most of them...It's like you have to be goth to be evil...I feel bad for the good goths...those jerks must've given them a bad name"

MySims Kingdom

Name: Jolene Streelman

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Interest Choice: Fun

Personality: Caring, Kind, Slightly tomboyish, Sensible, Curious, Judgmental, A little impatient, A little overzealous

Known Family: Unknown

Best Friends: Lyndsay, Ginny, Travis, Vic, Rusty

Friends: Renee, Candy, Sapphire, Zack, Violet, Poppy, Roxie Road, Trevor, Barney

Enemies: Morcubus, Vincent Skullfinder

Rivals: Yuki

Crush: Buddy

Loves: Seeing people happy, Helping others, Discovering new things, Books, Soda, Adventures, Music, Having fun (when it's a good time to do so, though), Her friends, Buddy.

Hates: Immaturity, Nonsense, Distractions, Bullies, People getting hurt, Abuses of power, Things taking longer than they should, Laziness, Cocky people

Profile: (Protagonist role Only)

"Jolene was nothing more than a simple pig herder for Elmira. But as fate would have it, she was chosen by King Roland to serve as the new official Wandolier after winning first place in the trials. She is determined to repair the broken kingdom and make the sims happy once more. With her friends by her side, nothing is impossible!"

MySims Agents

Name: Jolene Streelman

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Interest Choice: Charisma, Charisma, Smarts, Smarts, and Athletic

Personality: Caring, Kind, Slightly tomboyish, Sensible, Curious, Judgmental, A little impatient, A little overzealous

Known Family: Unknown

Best Friends: Travis, Roxie, Vic, Makoto, Evelyn

Friends: Violet Nightshade, Poppy Nightshade, Candy, Annie, Beebee, Summer,

Enemies: Derek and Zoe

Rivals: Brandi, Esma, Yuki, Morcubus

Crush: Buddy

Loves: Seeing people happy, Helping others, Discovering new things, Books, Soda, Adventures, Music, Having fun (when it's a good time to do so, though), Her friends, Buddy.

Hates: Immaturity, Nonsense, Distractions, Bullies, People getting hurt, Abuses of power, Things taking longer than they should, Laziness, Cocky people

MySims Skyheroes

As the protagonist, Jolene was a member of the Chaos Pirates. She was given a chance to prove herself to Morcubus but ended up crashing and suffering amnesia. She was then rescued by Derek and Selena and taken to Skyforce headquarters, whom she sided with. She later realized her previous allegiance in a dream sequence and acted as a double agent when she given a chance to "redeem" herself by Morcubus, she was able to turn the tides on the Chaos Pirates and save the skies from their reign.

When not the protagonist, she is unlocked after beating the game.

Name: Jolene Streelman

Age: 30

Gender: Female

Personality: Caring, Kind, Slightly tomboyish, Sensible, Curious, Judgmental, A little impatient, A little overzealous

Known Family: Unknown

Best Friends: Derek, Finn, Jenny, Justice, Martin, Ol' Gabby, Selena, Summer, Violet Nightshade (Currently)

Friends: Morcubus, Svetlana, Dragomir, Rose and Raphael (Formerly) Candy, Evelyn, Vic, Sapphire, Barney, Lyndsay, Jimmy Watanabe

Enemies: Svetlana, Dragomir, Rose and Raphael (Currently) Skip, Chaz McFreely, Yuki, Vincent Skullfinder (Temporarily)

Rivals: Justice (Formerly), Morcubus (Currently)

Crush: None

Loves: Seeing people happy, Helping others, Discovering new things, Books, Soda, Adventures, Music, Having fun (when it's a good time to do so, though), Her friends, Buddy.

Hates: Immaturity, Nonsense, Distractions, Bullies, People getting hurt, Abuses of power, Things taking longer than they should, Laziness, Cocky people

Trivia:

Her last name was originally going to Simmons

One of her quotes in MySims references the Lewis Carroll novel Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

This may be a subtle nod to American Mcgee's Alice, also made by EA

Jolene's age fluctuates throughout the series, she's 17 in MySims, 18 in MySims Kingdoms, 20 in MySims Agents, and 30 in MySims Skyheroes

Her parents are never mentioned

It's implied at the beginning and end of MySims Agents that she and Buddy got married after the events of the game, whether they had any children or not is unknown.

She was originally going to be voiced by Annette Toutonghi, voice of Freddi Fish, but this was changed to Cherami Leigh, the voice of Komaru Naegi from Danganronpa.

Her Japanese voice is Hitomi Nabatame, the voice of Mana Aida aka Cure Heart. It was originally going to be Kiyono Yasuno, voice of Elena Amamiya aka Cure Soleil, but this was changed.

MySims Skyheroes is the only game where Jolene and Buddy don't have an established relationship

Jo in MySims Agents is similar to Kim Possible, being a red-headed hero with a blonde bumbling male sidekick and having a romantic relationship with said sidekick after they've been best friends for a long while. She even hums the theme song to Kim Possible when she's idle. In fact, the comic series that Buddy made based off their adventures is called "Jo Possible".

The only difference between the two is that Kim is a freelance hero while Jolene is part of the MySims Protection Agency, which is an organization.

She's also similar to Sam from Totally Spies, being that they both have similar personality traits, work for a organization dedicated to the protection of civilians (SPA and WHOOP) and even have a blonde partner that wears red (Clover in Sam's case, Buddy in Jolene's case).

It's implied that Jolene might have a singing talent, sometimes when idle, In MySims, she'll hum the MySims theme song. In MySims Agents, she'll hum either the theme tune or Kim Possible's theme song from Kim Possible.

The basis of her personality was that of magical girl protagonists, since she has a strive to protect and help others while carrying a fondness for romance and fun. She even mentions the genre in one of her quotes in MySims about "Those girls you see in shows". She even has the voice actress of Cure Heart from Doki Doki Pretty Cure in the Japanese version.

In one of her quotes, she mentions that most of the spooky Sims are "jerks" She was referring to Morcubus, Yuki, Esma, Vincent, and Brandi. Who are antagonistic and have the Spooky interest. Being that she's friends with Violet (since she likes fun Sims), she's aware that not all of them are mean, just some of them.

Foreign Names:

Dutch: Femke (Meaning "Woman of Peace")

English: Jolene

French: Jolie

Hindi: शांति (Shaanti) (Meaning "Peace")

Italian: Felicia (From Felice meaning "Happy")

Japanese: ジョーレン Jōren

Polish: Jolene

Spanish: Felicia (From Felice meaning "Happy")

#mysims #oc stuff

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wildflowers-inthemeadow · 4 years ago

Text

151 questions

original: https://lovemesomesurveys.tumblr.com/post/619637647850291200/ready-to-answer-151-questions-1-when-was-the

1. When was the last time you swam in a pool? last year

2. Do you like to party? rarely, but yes, I do. esp. when dancing, music and/or karaoke is involved

3. If your ex suddenly kissed you right now, what would you do? don’t have an ex, so I don’t have to worry about that

4. Are you a virgin? yes

5. What are your parents views on your relationships? liberal. I know my Mom doesn’t like me to be bisexual, she grew up with very strict beliefs that say that homosexuality is a sin. but I came out to her years ago, so she seems to be cool with that. we’ll see once I have a girlfriend.

6. If you ran into your current boyfriend/crush in 10 years, would you marry them? in an instant

7. Is your best friend dating anyone? yes

8. Describe the shirt you’re wearing? it’s a grey, babydoll like shirt and part of a summer PJ ensemble

9. Do people who wear Hollister and Abrerbrombie every day bother you? I am not familiar with these companies or what kind of clothes they produce. but generally, I say: live and let live!

10. Could you go out in public without wearing make-up? I rarely wear makeup anyway, so yeah.

11. What is one feature that you don’t like? On me? I don’t know, I’m pretty content with what I got. Except for my weight maybe.

12. Would people describe you as happy? sometimes

13. Are you single? yes

14. Does it bother you that pretty much every survey you take asks if you’re single? naw

15. Do you have Tumblr? um. duh?

16. What about Xanga? never heard of that before. just googled it: seemed to be a blog system like Tumblr. naw, I’ll stick with the original

17. Have you ever babysat before? not that I recall 18. Is there a teacher who you absolutely hate? there were a couple, yes.

19. Ever shopped at Sephora? nope

20. If your current boyfriend/crush suddenly moved away, what would you do? I did have a crush on a boy once who then moved away. I always plan to write him on Facebook but never do. maybe someday.

21. Do you have any university plans? I already been to uni 22. If your best friend revealed she was a homosexual, what would you do? I’d hug them and say that I’m happy if they’re happy. 23. What are your views on sex? doesn’t concern me

24. Do sexual questions bother you? a little bit

25. Would you rather have sex with your boyfriend or break up? as I would be open to a potential boyfriend from the beginning that I am asexual, this scenario would not occur.

26. Have you ever dreamed about your wedding? nope

27. Does it bother you when people TYpe 1yk dis’? YES.

28. Do you delete pictures of you and your exes off of Facebook? I generally don’t post private pictures on Facebook. it’s a dangerous thing.

29. Would you ever date a friends Ex? big no.

30. What’s the last book you read? a fanfic by @zebraljb from a list of fics she recommended (I asked her for it)

31. Ready for 10 simple questions? bring it on! 32. What is your last name? haha naw dog

33. What grade are you in? I graduated school long ago 34. What school do you go to? I went to different schools, but had the most beautiful time at the Kerschensteiner Schule, Wiesbaden 35. Summer, Fall, Winter or Spring? spring and winter. 36. Favorite Color? (dark) green, (dark) red, orange, magenta, green 37. Are your parents together? not any more, no. it is for the better. 38. Any siblings? I always wanted to have a brother but alas, I’m an only child

39. Favorite subject? in school? Arts and English

40. Least favorite subject? Chemistry, PE

41. Favorite song? Home of the Whale - Caroline Lavelle (could listen to it for hours)

42. Okay. Simple questions are over. Happy? whatever

43. How many friends do you have on Facebook? 100ish

44. Ever been requested by some old guy from another country? yes. ugh.

45. Have you ever googled yourself? as a matter of fact, I did.

46. Have a Formspring? nope 47. You’re offered free tickets to a Justin Bieber concert. What do you do? I’d go. I like some of his songs. 48. Would you rather spend the day at an amusement park or a water park? amusement park

49. Been to Disney world? does Disneyland Paris count?

50. If someone posts their status “9 Inches :(” do you know what they mean? is this about sex again?

51. Ever had a boyfriend? nope

52. Ever had a huge crush on someone who still doesn’t know? oh, I think by now he knows. yes I did. 53. Have you done something in the last week that you regret? maybe

54. Ever drank alcohol? yes 55. Know anyone who’s currently doing drugs? that one boy I met at the workcamp in Ireland did

56. Ever watched The Hills? no

57. What about Jersey Shore? I might have tuned in once or twice

58. Ever called someone a slut? not to their face.

59. What do you think of short shorts? look good on girls, look ridiculous on men

60. Does it bother you if people swear around you? nope. let’s fucking do this! ;) 61. Have you ever gotten an A in a subject? yes 62. What about a B? yes

63. And a C? yes

64. How about a D? yes

65. Ever skived? the fuck is that? someone please enlighten me!

66. Would you consider yourself popular and outcast or somewhere in the middle? always been an outcast and never understood why 67. Are most of your friends older or younger than you? I’d say older. and that’s okay 68. Ever been stabbed in the back by a close friend? yes

69. Do you think it’s immature when people laugh at the number 69? if they find it funny, let them. I can’t relate to that

70. Ever watched porn? sure

71. How many laws do you think you’ve broken in the past month? zero?

72. Do you wake up with an alarm clock? yes

73. Do you prefer Wednesdays or Thursdays? makes no difference to me.

74. If your school had a Glee Club would you join? yes

75. Ever performed in a talent show? yes

76. Have you ever cried in public? yes 77. Do you have a favorite between your Mom and your Dad? I haven’t been in contact with my begetter for years. you do the math 78. Would you audition for a reality talent competition? I might?

79. How many celebrity crushes have you had? oh God, too many to count

80. How many non-celebrity crushes have you had? a couple

81. Name 5 male celebrities who you think are attractive. Taron Egerton, Colin Firth, Avan Jogia, Matt Bomer, Jensen Ackles

82. Name 5 female celebrities who you think are attractive. Rani Mukerji, Vanessa Hessler, Gal Gadot, Margot Robbie, Jacinda Barrett 83. Ever been compared to a celebrity? nope

84. Have any embarrassing pictures on Facebook? I answered this one basically already

85. Do you think spending £20 on Lip Gloss is a waste of money? yes

86. Are you opinionated? yes

87. Do you have a favorite store? C&A, Bonprix

88. Would you ever wear Flare Jeans? I have no idea what that is

89. Do you own jeans that aren’t skinny? yes. I don’t like skinny jeans

90. Have you ever worn the same outfit twice in one week? course

91. What’s the longest period of time you’ve been away from school? maybe one week? when I had a cold?

92. Do you google abbreviations you don’t understand? sure

93. Does it bother you when people have cats as their profile picture? nope

94. Own a pair of converse? I used to but not at the moment

95. Is there a teacher at your school who has obvious favorites? there was one, yes

96. If yes, are you one of them? not that I recall

97. Do you text in class? never did that

98. What brand of jeans do you wear the most? haven’t worn jeans in years, but if I did they were either from C&A or BonPrix

99. At what point do you think sizes are “Plus Sized?” 48/50 (I am talking about German sizes, of course)

100. Do you want to lose weight? YES

101. Ever seen a therapist? yes and I should

102. Ever watched porn? we had this already

103. Ever purposely ignored a text? kinda

104. A facebook message? yes

105. A poke? I always ignored those. That was a dumb feature Facebook had.

106. A friend request? rarely

107. Would you say you read into things too much? sometimes. I try to work on that

108. Is your best friend more likely to be the one suggesting something stupid or refusing to do something stupid? neither

109. Do you have a “fun friend?” (A friend who you have tons of fun with but you never really have deep conversations?) as a matter of fact, I do. not so much “fun” but we mostly go to cinema together.

110. Ever been called a bully? no because I’ve never been one

111. Ever purposely hurt yourself? no

112. Ever gone to church? yes. once. it was boring af

113. Would you call either of your parents screw ups? begetter: yes. Mom: sometimes

114. If you turned out exactly like your mom would you be pleased? no

115. What do you want to do with your life? hell I know

116. Let me guess… You have brown hair? omg how did you know? I don’t like my natural color though and usually color them blond

117. Already know what you’re being for Halloween? I don’t dress up on Halloween

118. Do you still go Trick or Treating? we don’t have this here in Germany

119. Ever liked someone WAY older than you? my biggest crush was appr. 10 years older than me

120. Does it bother you when people have really loud conversations on the bus? YES

121. When you have sunglasses on, do you stare at people? sometimes?

122. Ever had a credit card denied? yes

123. What’s the last movie you watched? One Wild Moment with François Cluzet and Vincent Cassel. steamy.

124. Last TV Show? Hannibal

125. You see your Ex making out with one of your friends. What do you do? have no ex

126. Ever been called a whore? NO.

127. Are you american? nope, I am part German, part Russian

128. Ever made yourself throw up? No.

129. Have you ever kissed someone who wasn’t your boyfriend? several times 130. Are you Cute or Gross? cute I hope

131. Does it bother you when people say “LOOK HOW MUCH YOU’VE GROWN!”? naw it’s cute

132. Can you say intelligent things around the guy you like? lol no. I become a total idiot.

133. Ever had the lead in a play? semi

134. What about a solo in a concert? yes 135. What kind of a student are you? a disciplined one

136. Worst subject? Chemistry, PE

137. Best subject? English, Art, German

138. Ever had a crush on a teacher? fuck, yes

139. Would it bother you if you found out that your mother was pregnant? naw, I always wanted to have siblings

140. How late do you sleep in? 12-ish

141. Do you edit your profile pictures before posting them? sometimes

142. Be 100% honest. Do you have any friends who are uglier than you? no. all my friends are beautiful ♥♥♥

143. Do you believe in love? yes

144. Would you consider yourself a good student? dude, how often do you want to ask me this?

145. Does it bother you when Surveys ask “Did you like this survey?” haven’t had that in a long time 146. Salty, Sweet, Sour or Spicy? Sweet and Spicy. but usually whatever I’m in the mood for.

147. Are you going into High School this year? graduated long ago

148. What about Junior High? see147

149. What is one thing someone could say to you right now that would make you cry? I love you.

150. Where did you find this note? here on Tumblr

151. Last question. How many unread messages are in your phone? I usually read them quickly. Now e-mails, that’s a different story. I check my e-mail account maybe every 3-4 days. You’ll reach me quicker via WhatsApp.

tagging no one but feel free to do this one if you feel like it ♥

#survey #me #about me #personal

0 notes

lafaiette · 7 years ago

Text

Spicy Joy

In which Solas cooks a surprise.

She misses the spicy spices of the Free Marches.

Her mother, the Hearthkeeper, would often use them in her dishes, since almost everyone in the clan liked their taste and the strong spiciness in the mouth that only those ingredients could create.

Leaves and flowers, little buds and plants, sometimes even squishy beetles – her mom knew everything about those and Scarlet can still taste their flavor under her tongue, feel the heat they created on the roof of her mouth and on her cheeks, all the way down her chest and belly.

The cooks of Skyhold are incredibly skilled at their job and she always gives them her compliments after every meal, but they have to cook and prepare food for an entire fortress and the dishes the servants put on the tables every day are made to satisfy everyone, from her companions to the nobles, from the pilgrims in visit to the ambassadors and soldiers.

There is a great variety of food to choose from and some of it it’s spicy, but not as much as Scarlet would like and it’s a completely different flavor from the one she tasted in her clan. She can feel the herbs and spices used are different, milder, less strong, probably Fereldan, and her heart aches a little bit.

Still, she thinks it would be stupid and disrespectful to request something specifically for herself. The cooks have already too much stuff to think about and ordering special spices from the Free Marches just to satisfy one of her whims – a very childish one – is silly and unworthy of the Inquisitor. She can’t let people think she is a selfish, spoiled ruler like those Emperors of Orlais she read so much about.

And she can’t ask her mother or Keeper Deshanna to send her what she desires, because she would look like a silly child, a homesick da’len who can’t take care of her needs and would let her clan deprive itself of food to satisfy her, her, someone who lives in a large fortress and has armies and agents at her disposal all over Thedas.

She confides this to Solas only once, on a day when she is most affected by homesickness and nostalgia. They are eating in their quarters, on one of the balconies, because the weather is nice and mild and the wind warm enough to be comfortable.

She sits on Solas’ lap, after he insisted a lot, reassuring her that he could eat perfectly well – “I would eat even better if you were on my legs, vhenan.” –, and the dish on the small table they brought outside reminds her of one her mother would often make.

“It’s not spicy like hers, though.” she chuckles softly, before putting one piece of meat into her mouth. “I miss her spices; they burned your mouth like nothing else and you felt like you could walk through a mountain of snow completely naked without ever feeling cold!”

“That would be pretty useful.” Solas smiles, kissing her shoulder, and she giggles, nodding.

“I needed something like that when I got lost at Haven.”

He makes a sad sound at that, remembering all too well the moments of panic and fear when they lost track of her after Corypheus’ attack. He nuzzles her neck, but then he notices the way she’s playing with her food, her eyes cast down, her melancholic smile.

“Vhenan?” he calls her, brushing back a lock of red hair from her face. “What is wrong?”

She hums, a bit embarrassed, but then she takes a deep breath and replies softly: “I miss my clan. My parents’ voices and my friends’ jokes. And I know it’s silly, but I miss the food, too.”

Solas’ heart swells with love and understanding and he moves her head down to his shoulder, murmuring: “Oh, no, my love. No, it isn’t silly.”

He kisses her nose, then her lips, and he tastes the spices of the food they are eating and wonders what her mother used to prepare. He asks her so, as tactfully as he can, and tries to find out the exact names of the ingredients her clan harvested.

A plan is already forming in his mind and he gains even more courage to accomplish it, because Scarlet’s eyes shine brightly as she describes the dishes her mother prepared and their flavor, the herbs she helped her gather, the leaves she and the other hunters would search in the woods to improve the clan’s meals.

He asks her questions, especially about the recipe, but she understands immediately what he wants to do, or so she believes, because she starts to panic and watches him with big, worried eyes.

“Solas, you aren’t going to request this food to the cooks, are you?” She tugs at his sweater, exclaiming: “Don’t do it, it’s a silly thing! I don’t want them to order expensive ingredients from the Free Marches and Rivain, it would be wasted money!”

“It wouldn’t!” he replies, touched by her selflessness, admiring it, because someone else would have ordered all the food, clothes, and gems they could thanks to their power and influence. Scarlet didn’t even ask for a bigger bed and kept the still precious, but simple one they put in her quarters the first day, when Skyhold was still unfurnished and rooms waited to be filled.

That wasn’t his plan, anyway. Simply request the dishes she so misses to the cooks would have been a small, stupid gift, something not even worthy to be called that. Instead, he plans to personally prepare the spicy food she craves, by heading into the kitchens when no one is there and surprising her with the flavors and scents of her clan.

The problem is, he is scared of failing. He can cook many things, but it’s not hard to cook a rabbit on the fire with just a few herbs here and there or come up with a soup of vegetables and stewed meat. He has never been one for complex, overly rich dishes and even in Arlathan he rarely ate the same food as the others, preferring the flavor-changing berries of the wild woods to the incomprehensible recipes the Evanuris requested from their slaves.

The dish Scarlet misses more than anything else sounded pretty simple, though; she even explained the recipe before thinking he was going to ask the cooks to prepare it and it only requires attention, care, and a few special ingredients. He believes he can do a good job and he has always been a fast learner.

After reassuring her he has no intention of asking the cooks, they finish their meal, then they go back to their duties: letters and documents for Scarlet, books and various studies for Solas. They sit at her desk – “Our desk.” she insists whenever he calls it that – and they help each other with passages and words, sharing opinions and ideas with each other and enjoying each other’s company and love.

She sees concepts in the words of his books that he can never find by himself: new answers and questions, curiosities and new information, hidden details and clues that prompt the mind to think of more and more things. He feels lucky and blessed to study and research in her presence and he listens to her, to her ideas and reasonings, with starry eyes while she talks and read passages sitting on his lap.

Sometimes, when she’s sitting on her own chair, he rests his head on the desk, on his folded arms, and watches her and listens to her rapturously, drinking every word, every intake of breath, every smile and focused frown, and cherishes them all in his heart and mind.

And when she complains about the nobles she has to write to, about the letters they sent her and the boring documents, he helps her with all the knowledge at his disposal and they often overcome difficulties together; an old Fereldan dialect that he never heard in the Fade and that she never read before, a curious Orlesian expression they have no idea how to translate in the Common Tongue, mysterious dwarven customs mentioned in a paper without any explanation.

It's a journey and he thinks it’s better than any journey he ever had in the Fade. And his heart bursts with joy when he sees the same happiness and wonder in Scarlet’s eyes as they study and read together.

Night soon comes and they ask a servant to bring dinner there, in their quarters; there is still work to do, but most of all they want to relax and spend the evening together, without anyone else, watching the flames dance in the fireplace and cuddling in bed.

While they eat and kiss and joke and laugh, Solas’ plan takes better form in his mind; he memorized all the ingredients and instructions Scarlet mentioned before, but he made sure to write them down while she was busy with some books. He knows exactly what to do, now.

He extinguishes the flames of the candles with a gesture, leaving only the roaring fireplace, then he snuggles with Scarlet under the sheets and heavy blankets and kisses her eyes. One kiss to wish her a good night and one to wish her a good morning. She giggles and kisses his chin and his smile and blush fill his whole face.

“Will you visit me in the Fade?” she asks, like she does every night.

“Always.” he replies, like he does every night, and they fall asleep like that, safe and warm in each other’s arms.

- - - -

The next day, after having breakfast in the main hall with their friends, Solas heads to the stables.

One of his agents works there, as one of Master Dennet’s assistants: he takes care of the mounts and makes sure Leliana’s agents have the best ones for their missions and quests across Thedas.

Blackwall is still inside the main building and Master Dennet is talking with one of the merchants of the courtyard, so the stables are empty and he and the agent can talk without problems.

The agent immediately stands up when he sees him coming and waits for instructions; Solas quietly hands him the list of ingredients, the ones the kitchens of Skyhold don’t have and Scarlet doesn’t want to order, fearing to bother everyone and spend too much.

“These are… spices from the Free Marches and Rivain.” the agent says, quite puzzled. His statement sounds almost like a question. “Do you want me to find these, sir?”

“Yes, as soon as possible. It is quite important.” He sees the small smile on the agent’s lips and he frowns, asking a bit dryly: “What is it?”

“This is for Inquisitor Lavellan, right?” the young man asks and now a smile blooms on Solas’ face, too, and he blushes.

“Yes.” He looks at the main building of the fortress, where he knows she is currently busy attending to the new refugees and soldiers arrived in Skyhold, strong people that offered their help and services. He can already imagine her taking care of everything with her kindness and professionalism and his heart beats faster.

When he looks back at the agent, he’s snickering, badly hiding it behind a hand. Solas’ blush deepens and he clears his throat, saying curtly: “Please, try to find them as soon as possible.”

“Of course, sir. I will send you word once I have everything.”

Solas nods, grateful, then he hurries to the stronghold, eager to see Scarlet’s smile.

- - - -

One week later, the agent gives him the ingredients and Solas can get to work.

He planned everything to the last detail: he will start preparing the food in the late afternoon, when the kitchens are empty and the cooks still haven’t raised from their nap. It’s the perfect time of day, because lunch is over and dinner is still too far away.

Of course, if some noble requests a particular dish or special concoction, a servant will go to the cooks and then he will get caught, but he will make sure they won’t say anything to Scarlet, should that happen.

He’s going to freeze the door, anyway. That should give him more time to cook in peace.

He chooses a particularly busy day: Scarlet won’t be able to spend the afternoon with him because she promised Cassandra she would train with her. Cole will also participate, because he wants to learn how to make “the knives talk”, something she mentioned a few months ago that struck him ever since.

He sees the cooks leave the kitchen for the blissful long hours that separate them from dinner; the main cook, an elderly, chubby human woman with deceptively stern eyes, laughs with a young assistant, pets her beloved cat, and doesn’t lock the door, just like Solas expected. Almost all doors are left open in Skyhold and the main one of the kitchens is no exception.

Thankfully, the ingredients are just special, thin spices, nothing too large that would immediately catch everyone’s attention; he is able to slip into the kitchens without being seen and heard, the precious bag pressed against his chest. Inside, he put the second note he wrote down the day Scarlet told him about her great homesickness: the recipe, explained to the last detail just like she explained it to him.

Grateful for his good memory, he smiles at the list, already imagining her joy, and freezes the handle of the door so that nobody will be able to enter for the time being. It’s time to begin and he immediately focuses on the task at hand, like he always does when he has to perform something important, especially if it’s related to Scarlet and her happiness. One day, he spent almost two days without sleeping because he absolutely wanted to finish his painting for her before Satinalia.

He looks down at the recipe, licking his lips in deep concentration. The first steps are the easiest: he just has to collect all the ingredients and tools he needs, then proceed with spicing the meat. The following steps are harder, especially for someone like him who never had much experience with cooking, but he reminds himself that this is for Scarlet and that he’s a fast and good learner, so he won’t fail.

But there is already a problem, before he can even truly begin: he has no idea where to find stuff in this kitchen. It’s not a large room by any means – and that always surprised him, because he has no idea how the cooks can prepare so much food for so many people here -, but there are cabinets and boxes everywhere and he doesn’t wish to break or disrupt anything.

But he needs to explore this place if he wishes to continue and finish before the servants get back, so he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater – he put on his old, tattered one to avoid ruining the ones Scarlet sewed for him – and carefully opens every shutter, lifts all the lids, peeks into every box and cabinet until he finds all he needs.

Satisfied, he goes back to the table at the center of the room, only to notice that the cooks have extinguished all the flames in the stoves and ovens. A sensible idea, but he needs fire and the right temperature to cook the meat and let the spicy stew simmer, so he summons his magic and creates a strong flame inside one of the iron stoves, hoping that’s the right way to do it. He saw there was still wood inside, so it should be all good.

With a content sigh, he finally concentrates on the meat, reading the recipe. He frowns, because he has no idea how to cut it in “thick, but precise slices”. He knows what that means, but he has never been good with a knife and he is beyond clumsy when it comes to cutting food. When he cooks for Scarlet and their friends at camp, he either cuts the meat in large, uneven chunks or tosses it like it is into the pot.

He finds the act of tearing away a piece of rabbit or fennec and then biting into it with gusto much more appealing than simply looking for the pieces with a fork, but the first time he cooked like that and said that Varric groaned and rubbed his eyes, muttering something about missing a “hanged man”, and Dorian looked so unimpressed and disgusted he almost felt mortified.

But then Scarlet laughed and kissed his cheek, saying she liked eating meat in the same way, because Dalish elves rarely cared about cutlery and they liked the way a well-deserved and blessed juicy hare could feel under their teeth. He smiled at her, grateful and reassured, and loved her even more.

He goes back to the present, a smile lingering on his lips, and he does his best to cut the meat as the recipe says. His hand trembles a little as he inexpertly handles the knife and makes a bloody mess all over the table, but in the end, the meat looks good and is ready to be spiced.

He needs to prepare the sauce, then. Honey and a little bit of water – he doesn’t know the quantities, though, so he will have to follow his instincts.

He found the honey in the strangest of places – hidden inside a pot on top of a cabinet, probably put there by the cooks to stop people from plunging their fingers into it. He opens the jar and scoops one spoon of the golden substance into a little bowl. He adds water, but he adds too much of it and the sauce is too liquid, leaving him breathless with panic for a moment.

Then he remembers that the solution is easy; he just needs to add more honey, stir well, and the sauce should become dense, thick, ready to be spread over the meat.

Suddenly, he hears a sound and realizes with horror that he didn’t lock the second door, the one that leads to the courtyard. He sees a head peeking into the room and he stays still, fingers sticky with honeyed water and the front of his sweater already bloody because of the meat.

He scowls at Sera’s bewildered face and she quickly returns the expression.

But then she gasps, noticing the jar of honey on the table. A question passes in her eyes – probably a “Where did he find it?” – and Solas knows the cooks have been hiding it from her.

But then her curiosity gets too strong and her next question is for him: “What are you doing here, elfy elf?”

Solas swallows a mortified lump of bile and replies coldly, looking back at the syrup in the bowl: “I’m preparing something for Scarlet.”

“Like, a dish that makes you wanna have sex? I know they have those in Antiva.” Sera cackles, gloating as she sees Solas’ red cheeks and tightened jaw.

“No.” he says, his tone as cold as ice, now. “It’s a gift and I’d like to be left alone.”

“I can do that.” Sera nods, pursing her lips. She seems to be in deep thought as Solas finishes to stir the syrup and that’s not a good sign. “If you give me something in return.”

His head snaps in her direction, faster than lightning, and he glares at her.

“I’m not letting you taste it!”

“Ew, as if! I don’t wanna get poisoned, I know you can’t cook for shit!”

Those words scare him a little – did someone complain, then? Is he that bad at cooking? Will this gift be good? -, but then he remembers who just pronounced them and he sighs, annoyed, and pretends he didn’t hear her.

“I won’t tell anyone you’ve been here if you give me that.” she insists, pointing at the jar of honey. She grins, drumming her fingers on the door; she is still peeking into the room, not even stepping into it for one second, and Solas follows her impish gaze.

He shouldn’t need honey anymore; the recipe mentions it only for the sauce, so there should be no problems in giving it to her and ensuring his surprise won’t be spoiled. The last thing he wants is the entire stronghold knowing what he’s doing, thus ruining Scarlet’s gift.

“Do you promise?” he asks, taking the jar, but glaring at Sera without giving it to her. She glares back at him, but she sounds sincere when she answers: “Yes, yes, I promise! I didn’t see anything and you didn’t see me either. Deal?”

He harrumphs and tosses her the jar, which she catches with incredible speed, before cackling and disappearing beyond the now closed door. He hurries to freeze it with a simple spell, then sighs, breathes deeply three times, and goes back to the recipe.

He spreads the sauce and the precious spices over the slices of meat, then takes a pan and fits it above the now roaring stove. He has no idea what the right temperature and times are, though, and he doesn’t dare look away to prepare the stew while the meat frizzles on the fire. He bites his lips, hoping it’s still early for the cooks to go back into the kitchens, and decides to watch over the meat before doing anything else.

But then he realizes that it would become inedible, chewy and hard to bite into, if he let too much time pass. Time is essential not just to cook, but also to eat, and he can’t possibly leave the cooked meat on a plate while the stew simmers in a pot.

Magic. Magic can help him, even in this case. He will just have to enchant the meat, so that it won’t get hard and cold, and everything will be alright. He chuckles nervously under his breath, forcing his panic down, because it clearly makes him forget about the most basic stuff. His desire to make Scarlet happy is so great that the thought of making a mess sounds like a sin, a terrible offense against her.

Breathing deeply, he puts the slices of meat on the pan, yelping when they frizzle loudly and a bit of oil burns his fingertips. His sweater is more soiled than ever, but he doesn’t even see it and keeps going, controlling the meat with extreme precision, careful not to let the spices fall onto the pan.

He read somewhere that meat must not be pierced with forks or knives while cooking, so he moves it around with a spoon, biting his lips and studying the color to see when it’s ready. After a short while, he believes it’s done – Scarlet likes it almost raw, just like he does, so it’s easier for him to know when to stop. He’s glad he kept an eye on the meat, since the flame was definitely too high and strong and the stove is burning madly.

He delicately places the meat onto the best plate he could find, one that reminds him of Dalish art and motifs, with beautiful flowers and leaves and strong colors, then he casts a preserving spell on it. It’s time to make the stew and he hurries to take the rest of the spices, oil, butter (the kitchens don’t have halla butter like the recipe requires, so he hopes the one he found will be alright), then carrots and sweet onions and celery.

He’s good at making stew, he thinks, so he feels more comfortable and less anxious when it’s time to add the hare and potatoes. He cooks and takes care of everything until he’s sweatier than he has ever been and his sweater is a disaster, until his hands and brow are dirty and the floor and table are a mess, while the plate of spiced meat lies safe under a protective barrier.

And then, just as he’s about to taste the stew and a little bit of the meat to make sure everything is alright, he hears the bell in the courtyard that rings with the one in the garden of Skyhold: they indicate when the prayers in the chapel are about to begin, but they are also a signal for dinner. More than two hours and a half must have passed, then.

Solas starts to panic. Soon the cooks and servants will come back and they will try to open the door, and once they realize they can’t, they will call someone to push it open, believing it stuck, and they will find him here, sweaty, stinking, surrounded by a mess. And then his surprise will be ruined and he won’t be able to create the right mood in his and Scarlet’s quarters.

He swallows something that feels like tears, then he hastily pours the stew into a large bowl, casts a protective and preserving spell on it, too, and places the bowl and the dish with the meat on a wooden tray. He adds another plate for himself, cutlery, and two glasses; finally, he covers everything with a cloth, so that nobody will see the food and understand what he did.

The surprise is ready, but he looks terrible and if Scarlet has already left the courtyard after hearing the bell, then he’s done for.

“I must hurry.” he murmurs, forcing himself to think clearly, without panicking. He is usually good at being invisible, since the nobles and guests pay him no mind and the servants and the people of Skyhold tend to speak to him only when necessary. He hopes his weird appearance won’t catch their attention, but he is aware of the fact that people know him as a sort of unwashed hobo – he grunts as he thinks about that -, so he hopes they will think nothing of it, should they notice him.

He just has to cross the hall and reach their quarters. It’s easy, he just has to look ahead, back straight, and carry the precious tray up to the highest part of the tower. Then he has to set the table, undress and wash himself quickly, and ask for Scarlet.

“It’s easy.” he tells himself, taking the tray and approaching the frozen door. “Nobody is going to notice you. It’s going to work.”

Yet he feels like this is the hardest plan he ever devised and his heart beats too fast in his chest, choking the air in his lungs and throat.

He gingerly unfreezes the handle of the door, then opens it and peeks into the long corridor: nobody is there, but he can feel and hear the steps of people above, their voices and laughter, the ceiling rumbling with activity. He takes a deep breath and approaches the stairs, carrying the tray as if it is a little child. The wood is warm and the smell of food is good; he feels reassured, more confident, and he smiles, already looking forward to Scarlet’s joy.

He reaches the top of the stairs and opens the door that leads into the main hall; it’s full of people as usual and he sees servants moving around, getting ready to go back to the kitchens or take care of the guests’ rooms. He nervously looks around, trying to be as nondescript as possible, the quietest creature in Skyhold: Scarlet is nowhere to be seen and he sighs relieved.

He slowly heads towards the door to the quarters, the tray pleasantly heavy in his hands. He doesn’t see anyone watching him and nobody calls him or starts to whisper as he passes along the nobles, servants, and guests. Everyone is busy with their own things and no one pays attention to the soiled elven apostate.

He enters Scarlet’s quarters – “Our quarters!” her voice says in his head – without problems and he lets out a relieved, happy sigh, walking up the stairs with renewed strength, a huge smile on his lips. He can already see her joy, imagine the warmth that will spread in her heart, her homesickness less strong, less painful. If he can do anything to make her feel better, he will do it, no matter what it is.

He places the tray on the small table near the couch, then drags it at the center of the room and puts two chairs near it. He removes the cloth from the tray and starts to set the table, cursing himself when he notices he forgot the water in his haste. Looking around, he finds some unopened bottles of wine that people constantly give to Scarlet as a gift, but he knows she doesn’t like drinking much and he has no idea whether that wine would be a fine match for the food she so loves and misses.

He keeps searching for a bottle of water, whining softly, aware of his terrible clothes, of his dirty hands and face; he finds none, so he just takes a bottle of wine, opens it and pours its content out of the balcony that watches over the mountains. The blinding snow becomes a deep red as he keeps pouring the last drops of wine, then he uses a water spell to fill the bottle again, the same trick he uses to fill the bathtub whenever he and Scarlet want to take a hot, relaxing bath before going to sleep.

The table still looks empty, though, not romantic at all. Scratching his chin – and leaving a long line of grease on it -, he thinks of any possible decoration he might add, then he smiles and runs to the desk, near which Scarlet put a vase of flowers. He takes only four, not wanting to ruin her composition, then he finds a small vase he uses to keep his charcoal pencils and brushes in neat order, pours them all out, hides them on the desk under a pile of documents, and fills it with the flowers. He also summons tiny orbs of warm light and makes them float in the air, like precious specks of gold.

Now that the table is complete, he must take care of himself. Scarlet will soon be on her way here, so he must act quickly: filling the bathtub with hot water isn’t a problem, thanks to his magic, and he finds immediately the perfumed soap she loves so much and the new sweater and pants she sewed for him.

He scrubs his skin and is grateful for his lack of hair which saves him a lot of time; he just has to clean his body, reach every corner of it, eliminate all kinds of grease, oil, blood and spice from his fingers and face and wear those beautiful, warm clothes that Scarlet made for him.

Once he has done everything, he stands ready and clean near the table, fixing the last details, smiling happily and even humming a soft tune, waiting for her to enter the room, walk up the stairs, and discover the surprise.

He almost jumps when he hears the door open. He fixes the collar of his sweater, then studies the table and the food one last time, wondering if some candles would have looked good even if it’s still day outside. He hears Scarlet’s voice and then Josephine’s, the latter sounding rather worried and impatient.

“Please, Inquisitor, it’s extremely important! This Bann is closely tied to the crown, so we must present ourselves at our best.”

“Of course, Josephine. Wait for me in the main hall with him, I’ll join you shortly.”

Solas’ heart leaps into his throat and he stares at the stairs with sad puppy eyes. Won’t she eat here, then?

He hears her close the door, then walk up the stairs. He fidgets near the table, suddenly shy, and waits for her to appear. He catches a glimpse of her face before she turns to him: a bit tired and worried, eyes cast down in deep thought, hair falling near her gentle face.

But then, as soon as she sees him, she looks surprised, then joyful and a huge smile illuminates her eyes, her face, the whole room. The tiredness is gone, only love and happiness remain. He smiles back at her, straightening more his back, still fidgeting.

“Solas!” She sees the table and it takes her only a moment to recognize the food: her eyes widen and she brings a hand to her mouth, gasping.

“Don’t worry, I made it myself! I didn’t ask the cooks.” he hurries to say and a bit of pride slips into his tone. “I… ah, only asked someone to look for the spices.”

Scarlet lowers her hand, then she slowly walks over to him, her eyes never leaving his. He thinks he sees tears in them and starts panicking, but before he can say or do anything, he is pulled into a deep kiss that steals his breath away.

“Wait here.” she whispers, breaking the kiss for a moment before quickly pecking his lips again and rushing down the stairs. Solas stands still, cheeks red, and distantly hears her call out for Josephine. He doesn’t know how much time passes, as he’s still thinking about the kiss and the light in Scarlet’s eyes, but before he knows it, she’s back in the room with him and they are kissing again.

“Solas.” She keeps repeating his name with every kiss she presses on his face. “Solas, Solas, vhenan…”

“I hope you will like it, I…” He suddenly grows anxious and worried and he eyes the food with concern. “I… I didn’t have the time to taste it.”

“I’m sure it will be wonderful.” she says, squishing his cheeks between her warm hands and he smiles at her, his eyes full of the same joy and love her eyes have. She grins at him and laughs, taking his hand and pulling him towards the table.

“Come on, let’s eat! I told Josephine that I can’t possibly join that Bann at dinner today.”

“And what is the excuse you came up with?” he chuckles, moving her chair to let her sit.

“No excuse. I just told her I wanted to eat with you. She will come up with something that the Bann will definitely have to believe.” She sticks out her tongue. “I’m the Inquisitor, after all. One of the perks of the job.”

He laughs with her, leaning down to kiss her again, then he sits next to her, happy to see that the food has been preserved perfectly and it’s still hot and soft, as if just taken out of the pan.

“Oh, Solas!” she sighs, looking at the meat and stew with starry eyes. “This looks so good! And the smell! It’s exactly the same, I can’t believe it!”

She smiles at him, bouncing on her seat, and asks: “Did you really cook it all by yourself? You remembered the recipe? All the ingredients?”

“Yes. I wrote them down.” He smiles shyly, his ears turning red. He’s flustered, timid, and proud at the same time, but when Scarlet giggles and kisses his cheek, saying she’s proud of him, his smile grows more timid and happy and he lets out his snorting chuckle.

Scarlet takes her fork and knife and cuts the first piece of meat, complimenting the look of it and the smell. She looks enthusiastic and there is child-like wonder on her face as she takes the first bite. Solas does the same, eager and curious to see how he fared in the kitchens.

At first, he tastes only the meat: juicy and tasty, the honey syrup adding a certain richness to it. Then, his tongue is suddenly on fire and the flames seem to spread all over his mouth. He coughs and wheezes, reaching out for the water, and he already knows his face must be completely red.

His sight is blurred by the tears, but he’s able to glimpse Scarlet through them… and he’s shocked to see she is eating the meat and stew with gusto, munching and moaning happily as she chews without problems, without even sipping a bit of water. It’s like she can’t feel the spiciness at all.

“It’s delicious! Oh, Solas, it’s just like my Mamae makes it! It’s so spicy and good!” She beams at the food on her plate and he manages to crack a smile, even if his throat is melting away and he can barely breathe. He discreetly coughs some more, then drinks again, trying to regain speech.

“Vhenan, is everything alright?” she asks, worried, and he hurries to reassure her with another smile, hoping his eyes aren’t watering anymore and his face isn’t too much red.

“Yes, vhenan. I just… I wasn’t expecting it to be this spicy.”

“My father likes it even spicier.” she chuckles and he blinks, trying to imagine such a flavor, but failing to do so. Even picturing that taste in his mouth makes his throat clench involuntarily.

Still, Scarlet looks absolutely overjoyed and she never stops smiling; she keeps complimenting the food and thanking him and Solas slowly starts to forget about his own portion to simply watch her, a smile on his face, looking at every detail of her face, every change of expression, listening to every word and putting it all inside his heart and mind.

She notices him, of course, and blushes and babbles until he laughs and looks back at his plate; he is able to eat part of his food, but it’s way too much for him, so he offers the rest to Scarlet, who gladly accepts, finding memories of her clan and family in every bite.

Later, as they cuddle in bed, nuzzling each other’s nose and cheeks, she says softly: “Thank you, Solas. That was a marvelous gift.” She smiles at him, tapping his nose. “I didn’t know you could cook that well!”

“I didn’t know it either.” he chuckles. He swallows and pulls her further into his arms, pressing his lips on her cheek. “I’m glad you liked it, vhenan.”

He’s ready to go back to the kitchens every day if it means seeing her so happy and carefree. He remembers with a slight jolt that he didn’t clean the stove and table before leaving, but the cooks and servants are probably doing it themselves right now. He will ask Cole what they might like and send them an anonymous gift to apologize.

He tells Scarlet so and she kisses him, that same pride from before shining in her eyes. She strokes his cheek, looking at him with wonder and admiration, and he smiles shyly again. Her lips taste so good, like the spices, but milder, like embers and flowers and not fire.

“Ar lath, ma vhenan.” she says and he presses his forehead against hers, his smile growing alongside hers.

“I love you, too, vhenan.”

Long minutes of relaxed, comfortable silence follow, then he timidly asks:

“What is your second favorite food?”

#dragon age #da:i #solas #scarlet lavellan #solavellan #lafaiette's fic #FLUFF #also the idea of solas cooking is UNF #SO GOOD #my domestic dorks #being adorable together #;_;

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homelesshaunts-blog · 6 years ago

Photo

Run--If You Can by Charlotte Armstrong

Let's swap! You for my car and me for your land. In each lies secrets buried deep within...

Welcome to Homeless Haunts. My name is Lavel Wideman your Bloghost of Horror.

A man commits a crime, his car holds incriminating evidence, and he's not wanting to be found out but wants a way out of his rut. He does something nobody think to do. He finds an ad in the newspaper on swapping, and will anybody know why the transactions?...I guess it's all in how you ask...?

She was there, of course. She was always there. This was his home, but he never came home without finding her waiting--no matter how late.

There she was. Sitting in the stiff chair under the lamp, wearing a dark blue dress. She was his sister, his whole family, and this was his home, so he had to come here; but he stared at her hands, her splay-fingered, big knuckled old hands, holding the Book.

"It's midnight," she said.

"I'm a big boy," he answered nastily. "I'm forty-two years old. You know that, Helen?"

He dashed across the sitting room and through the alcove to the kitchen. He found the liquor, poured a drink. The garage was locked--he had remembered to lock it.

He came back with the glass in his hand. "I need this," he whined, because he needed her. She was his sister, she was all he had. "I had a terrible scare just now. I'm pretty much shaken up. I got home all right, though. Nobody saw me."

"Somebody saw you, Walter," she said in that mad and maddening way she had, that way of being so absolutely sure.

"...Way out in the country. Not a soul around. Listen, I don't know where she came from. All of a sudden there was this little car. How could I stop? It wasn't my fault. I just couldn't stop. I did stop, after wards." He gulped at the drink." I don't know who she was. How could I know? I got out of there. Little bitty car, turned right over. They make them too small, tomorrow...Listen, she was dead. There was nothing I could do for her any more--nothing."

"Alone?" his sister asked.

"Of course, alone," he said angrily. "And I got home all right, didn't I? The car's in the garage. I looked it over, as good as I could. There isn't a mark on it."

"There is a mark," his sister said.

"Quit with that stuff, will you?" he shouted. "It was an accident, I tell you! How can you stop if you're doing, seventy? You don't know anything about thing like that. I'm telling you, nobody saw, nobody is going to know, and you won't say anything."

"There'll be no need," she said, with the certainty that was like contempt. She had no color in her long narrow face. She never had. Even her lips had no color. Her pale hands lifted the Book. "Nothing shall be hidden," she whispered.

She drove him nuts sometimes. "I couldn't do anything for her, could I? It wasn't really my fault, was it? I'd been driving a long time and my eyes were tired. I couldn't help that, could I? It's too bad. I mean, I'm sorry. I'm upset, believe me I am. Tomorrow I'll change all the tires on the car. I'm not..."

Her eyes were set deep, and the eye sockets caught shadows.

"Don't talk about it, " he cried, although she was not speaking. "Listen, I'm all in. I had a shock. I got to get some sleep. I had an awful shock and I'm tired. So don't talk about it."

She said nothing. But he went staggering away, off to his bedroom. He'd sleep. He'd take a pill-two of them, to make sure. She wouldn't approve. Helen didn't approve of anything. He ought to get away from her, but he couldn't get away. Curled up in his bed, he could hear her moving around the apartment, making everything neat for the night...and somehow he felt safe.

"You're late," she said, when he came home from work the next night and stood, tense and wary, just inside the door.

"Anybody come around? Anybody poking around the garage?"

"No."

"...It's in the evening paper," he told her. "Her name was Mary Lovelace. Lovelace. Some name, eh? She was dead, all right. Some farmer found her, about four in the morning." He moistened his lips. "Hit-and-run, they say in the paper."

"Yes," said his sister, nodding agreement. "Dinner is waiting."

"There was nothing I could do, was there? I didn't see her. I couldn't stop. Didn't mean to do it. Listen, it happens every day--every day. Forget it. Get dinner or will you?"

"As soon as you wash up, Walter," his sister said.

But at the table he kept talking and talking. I looked at the car this morning, by daylight, and I couldn't see a thing. Nothing's dented. Didn't scrape the paint, not that I can make out. No glass broken. But I'm not going to drive it, Helen. See, they've got these police laboratories. It's spooky what they can come up with. One speck of dust, maybe, and you're a gone goose. What am I going to do with the car?"

"It doesn't matter what you do with the car," she said.

"Oh, come on," Walter shoved his chair back. "You're nuts, you know that, Helen? You ought to know that. I know it. So I'm taking care of this. And you're not going to open your mouth about it--not one word."

He grinned and looked sly, because he was sure. She was all he had, his whole family, and she would not betray him.

"I have prayed for you," she said.

"You'd do better to try and help me figure out how to get rid of it. Of the car, I mean. The car" (Sometimes she looked so stupid!) "Say I buy four new tires. But who knows if they're checking up on sales like that? Say I have a new paint job done. Same thing--they may be checking. What I've got to do, I've got to be a little bit smarter than that, that's all."

She said nothing. She just looked at him in that stupid way.

"Also," he continued, finding some ease in voicing his anxieties, "I know better than to drive it out to the desert, or some place, and just leave it. They'd pick it up and trace it so fast...Well, so I can't run it off some cliff into the ocean, either. They'd find it--you can bet on it. They'd want to know how and why. So how am I going to get rid of that car?"

His sister whispered, "How are you going to get rid of your sin?"

"What sin?" he bellowed. "Sure, I broke the law. I know that. "Sure, I broke the law. I know that. Sure, there's a law that says you've got to report a thing like that. Well, I didn't want to respect it. I didn't want to be in a mess over just an accident--an unavoidable accident. I tell you! Nobody saw. Nobody knows. Nobody will know, if I can only get rid of the car. So that's my problem."

"Why don't you sell it?" she said in a moment.

"What will I do? Trade it in? And the cops find it on a second hand lot? And there are records kept--damn it, you don't understand."

"I understand better than you," she sighed.

"Oh, shut up, will you? Will you please? I'm going to get rid of the car and the whole mess with it. There must be a way. I'll figure out a way. I can't eat," he said. "I don't want any more dinner." He glowered at her. "Don't you get any nutty idea you'll go to the police."

"It won't be necessary," she said.

He flung himself up from the table. "It'll stay in the garage till Saturday. I'll do something about in on Saturday."

"You cannot--"

He interrupted viciously. "You want to bet? You want to put your money where your mouth is, just once in your life? You're getting worse all the time. You know that, Helen? I'm going to buy us a television set too."

He mumbled away into the sitting room. They didn't even have a television set. She read one Book--one Book all the time. He had to go watch television in some bar.

...Walter turned the Saturday sports page, he saw the ad. Carrying the paper, he trotted to where his sister was watering her row of potted plants in the kitchen window.

"I got it," he told her. "Listen to this swap ad. Talk about perfect! This is it, Helen.

"'Exchange: Fine view lot for late model auto. Must be in good condition for long trip. Quick deal. Phone--'"

"So?" he cried." Isn't this it? Isn't it?" She straightened her long flat back, and her thin neck lengthened. " The perfect way to get rid of the car," he cried impatiently. "I'll swap it for whatever he's got. A lot, it says here."

"A piece of land?"

"All right! I ned a lot like a hole in the head. What's the difference? Here's a man, he's going on a long trip and he's going quick. So let him drive that car out of the state and that's the way to rid of it."

"Do you think so?" his sister said tonelessly.

"The deal gets recorded, sure. But so what? License number, engine number, make and model, and all that. So what about it? They won't tell anything. The car itself will be gone, far away. So how will the polie ever get the car into their laboratories? This is going to be the way, I tell you, an it'll work."

"There is another way," she said.

"What way?"

"Confess."

"Oh for...! Listen, I could go to jail! Which I am not" Walter flung himself off to the telephone.

..."Sounds good. Fellow wants me to run over to his place right away and we can go take a look at this lot. Well, from his point of view it makes sense, you know? So I got to take the chance and drive the car. He's only two, three miles away. Then this lot is way up in the hills and who's going to be up there? Nobody's been around here yet, and it's four days. Listen, the best if it is, he wants to take off on a trip tonight! So this is really it--the way out."

His sister said nothing and he shouted to her silence. "What can happen? Nothing is going to happen. You're going to keep your mouth shut and you are the only one who knows."

"I am not the only one who knows," she said.

"God knows, eh?" snarled Walter. "You give me the creeps sometimes. You know what you are, Helen? You're superstitious, that's what you are...

"Go with God," she said sadly.

"With or without, I'm going," he shouted, sweating.

But Walter went in terror and he knew it. He backed his car our of the garage for the first time since the accident and walked all around it, convincing himself that there was absolutely no visible sign of any damage. Nothing to betray him.

Then he drove off, carefully. The sight of a prowl car drenched him in sweat, but the policeman didn't even see him...

"I take care of a car," Walter babbled. "I believe in that. I'm not one of these people who runs a car into the ground. A car's a valuable piece of property. She runs pretty sweet, wouldn't you say?"

Anderson, testing the car's functioning, drove up into the hills along winding streets and then, above the streets, on winding roads. Then he stopped.

"This it?" Walter blinked. Oh, yes, he had better show some interest in the lot.

They got out and Walter blinked again. There was a fine view. The great basin of Los Angeles lay, wide and beautiful in spite of itself, below them. The lot was more level than most. Anderson pointed out the boundary stakes. It wasn't a bad size either.

"That's it," said the young man with his air of impatient briskness. "I'll take the car if you'll take the lot. Is it a deal?"

Walter licked his lips. "You'll take the car," he said slowly, " and be gone. Right? But this real estate--the title check, the closing? I mean, what guarantee do I have?"

"I've got the deed in my pocket and my lawyer, with a power of attorney, can handle the details. Suppose I have him meet us right away."

"You don't ...er...want to stick around, yourself till Monday?"'

"No," said Anderson, and his voice was positve.

Walter glanced around the site once more. "Looks okay," he admitted. "I mean, how can it miss? Unless there's a gimmick. Eh, Mr. Anderson?"

The young man turned his back and started toward the car. "If you don't want it, say so."

"Title clear? No liens?" Walter walked after him.

"That's what I said. You know they'll search it. Well? If not, say so and I'll find another car."

"Well, I'll tell you--" Suddenly Walter recalled his prime motive. "Okay, it's a deal. Say the car is yours, the lot is mine, even swap, as of right now. Okay?'

"Okay."

She was there, of course. She was always there.

"This is my sister, Helen, Mr. Anderson. We've got some business," he added quickly, before she could speak. His tone told her that the business was none of hers...He showed Anderson to the phone.

While Anderson was using it, Walter followed his sister into the kitchen.

"This is it," he said, "So keep still. Swear to me, you'll keep your mouth shut."

Her pale lips parted. Her pale eyes in their deep caverns looked at him with pity. Then they closed, and her lips closed.

The two men sat down at the table in the alcove and began to produce what papers they had. Helen brought in the coffee silently. She left them and sat down in the stuff chair in the room, and took the Book into her hands.

When there was nothing more to do until the lawyer arrived, there seemed nothing more to say. Anderson glanced at the woman in the chair, glanced at his watch Walter began to find the silence too hard to bear. "This lawyer is coming, isn't he?"

"In a few minutes."

"How do I know--?" Walter began. Then he controlled himself. "Kind of in a hurry, arent you, Mr. Anderson?" he inquired.

"I'd like to be on my way."

"Well, all we got to do is wait for this...er...friend of yours."

Walter looked up slyly from under lowered brows. He was nobody's pigeon. How did he know that the man they were waiting for was, in fact, a lawyer?

Anderson looked at his watch again. He glanced through the arch at the silent woman, stiff in the stiff chair.

Walter said, "How come you don't own a car? A young fellow like you. I was kind of wondering."

"I own a car. It's in bad shape."

"No trade-in valure?"

"Not worth bothering about."

Walter twitched. After a moment he said, "How long did you say you owned that lot, Mr. Anderson?"

"I didn't say," snapped the young man. He seemed about to jump out of his skin. "A little more than a year," he answered, rather coldly...

Walter was too nervous to remain silent. "To me," he said, "the times are modern, right? I do my best. I work for a living. I'm a businessman." He went on uncontrollably. "Looks to me, if you'd hang on to that propery six months or another year you ought to turn a nice profit. Right now--you know this, don't you?--it's worth more than a second-hand car."

The doorbell rang.

"Get the door, will you, Helen?" Walter called. She rose. He heard a man's voice say politely, " I am looking for a Mr. Robert Anderson."

Helen said nothing.

"Oh, for...!" Walter stood up. "Right this way," he called out.

He felt a deep relief, but the aftertaste of his curiosity was still strong. So he looked down and said to the young man softley, "Listen, does he know where the body is buried? Maybe?

Anderson's eyes flashed. He called out the lawyers name. An older man came toward them, well-dressed, crisp and business like in speech and manner. It took only a few minutes more--a few signatures. The all three rose and Walter held out the car keys.

Anderson snatched the keys and began to cross the sitting room, moving quickly. Walter shuffled fast to keep alongside. He was convinced, now, that this man was running away. But from what?

They almost collided as Anderson stopped and murmured to Helen, still sitting in her chair, "Happy to have met you."

Her pale lips did not open. Oh, she was a nut, really thought her brother.

"Come on," he said crossly," you can say good-bye to the gentleman, Helen."

"God be with you, gentleman," she said.

This was odd enough to hold Anderson for a moment, as the lawyer, briefcase in hand, joined them.

"Good-bye," he said pleasantly to Helen, and then to Walter, "Good-bye"....

Walter was whining at their backs--he just couldn't help it. "Look, gents, excuse, but that lot is worth five, six thousand, if it's worth a nickel. All right. I'm stuck with it now. And that's okay. But what's the gimmick? Please?

The lawyer said severely, "No gimmick."

"But there has to be a gimmick," cried Walter.

"And you have to know, don't you?" asked Anderson hoarsely.

"Don't, Bob," said the lawyer, touching his client's arm. "We're through here. Let's go."

"Now wait," said Walter frantically." This is beginning to look pretty funny."

"Funny?" said Anderson. " I bought that lot to put a dream house on it for my bride. There is no bride."

"I see. I see." Walter was deflated so suddenly that he almost fell." I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was personal. That's okay, then. " He was nodding. "Yes, that's all right."

"All right?" said Anderson on a note of rising anger. "All right?"

Walter had begun to sweat. He looked behind him. His sister, with the Book in her hands, had her head high, and on her pale lips was the weird little smile--the smile that was going to drive him nuts.

"She was driving my sports car last Tuesday night," said Anderson violently," and somebody flipped her into a ditch. So there'll be no dream house and I never want to see the site of it again. That's what's the matter with the lot."

Now Walter was not only sweating, he was shaking from head to foot..."Listen. Excuse me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. So long, I mean... Go with God," Walter bleated idiotically. A high giggle came out of him.

"Shall we go, Bob?" the lawyer said softly.

But Anderson said, "What's the matter here?"

Walter's jowls were shaking. "No, no," he said. He spread his hands. The palms were wet. "Why should there be a gimmick? Nothing's the matter here--nothing at all."

Anderson's eyes bored into Walters', them swerved to Helen's.

"What is it?" he said to her, sharply.

But her lips were closed.

For Walter, something cracked. "You're crazy, Helen." he shrieked. "You know that? She's crazy," he sobbed to the two men. " Don't listen to her! Shut your mouth!" he howled to his silent sister.

...Anderson spoke, in the stern and quiet voice of doom. "I think you'd better tell me. What's wrong with the car? What's the gimmick?"

Alley of Fear

Oooh! I think you better tell him, Walter.

How things are opened and revealed, and when it's not even your turn to speak.

But the cat's out of the bag now and you must face the music--it's playing for you to begin...now play.

If you could record a moment in your life and it reitnerate itself over and over like a drum. This drum now plays for you to dance.

A man realizes a secret is not a secret if you disclose it with the one you love. It may help , but sometimes it may not. Sometimes a listening ear can be a guilty conscience.

She didn't have to say a word. It was what she was holding that made the case. The Good Book that can acquit anyone's heart-- actions are in the balance. And it's up to you to see your mistakes. Confront whatever it is that's causing a rift between the physical and the spiritual.

And of course, winding up in a place like the Alley of Fear, you can no longer cause problems. Where you'll have a home, a place to stay, and be yourself. To think about all the things you've done or should have done and try real hard to remember all the way back to the time, where you made your deal.

Somehow that deal became faulty. However, in the Alley of Fear, the Good Book will retain it's goodness and justice where Walter will no longer have his sister to face but this Good Book. And here, it'll be a good time for him to read it.

Good evening ladies and gentlemen, in your own homes, and if you have one?

Homeless Haunts bringing the world of the poor to your door.

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seirenemuri · 7 years ago

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About The kissing booth...

More times than I'd like to admit, I find myself surprised about how easily some people categorize certain behaviours as romantic.

For example. The kissing booth. I read the book after watching the trailer on youtube. It seemed like the cliche cheesy young romantic comedy of the season.

The book is easy to read. Badly written, pretty lineal, it is easy to notice that was written by a young person, as I later discovered. But this is definetly not the issue.

The issue is the violence and manitulation stated as some sort of romantic signal, romantic behaviour, care, protectiviness, you name it.

Noah is violent. Even his family think so. Even his family is cautios around him.

Noah activetly sabotaged Elle's possible relationships (he threatened every guy who showed interest in Elle) under the premise that Elle was naive and every man on earth (except him) was a potential sexual predator. Then the writter reinforced this notion by putting Elle in this kind of situations just to have Noah in his shinning armor (fists) defending her honor.

This is not being romantic or caring, is being a total manipulative asshole.

I could go on this like 20 pages. I won't. My point is: I'm not asking for a perfect fairy tale, perfect friends, perfect boyfriends. Violent behaviour is a trait in certains relationships. It happens. I'm not denying it. What I don't like is the idealization of it, and how this kind of behaviours is so easily laveled as romantic. They are not. It is a issue. It doesn't matter is this novel/movie is just fiction; ideas and ideals aren't just fiction, they glue to you, one way or another. And this work is targetting a young audience. So is worrisome. At least to me.

I won't say "don't read the novel/don't watch the movie". I just think that we just tend to be very passive when it comes to works of fiction. So I'll say: no matter what you like, what you watch or hear or read, just be critical about it, Think beyong what you think you are consuming. Just to be safe. Yes, sometimes we just watch things to kill time. But still. Just to be safe.

#The kissing booth #Sorry my english #I'm not saying is bad to like this #I'm just saying it is nor as romantic as some people think

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topmediumreadersclub · 8 years ago

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Psychic in Lavelle PA 17943

The following article goes into detail about psychic in Lavelle Pennsylvania 17943 After conducting psychic readings, numerology readings and tarot card readings for over 20 years now, I have gained a definite perspective not only as an advisor but as a client. As a client, I have been able to see exactly how psychics who are not real work their magic. After getting a psychic reading from dozens of so-called psychic advisors, you may find yourself intoxicated by the things that the psychic tells you. If it sounds too good to be true, most likely it is. You have to understand the origins and purpose of psychic networks. Their job is to make lots of money, not to help you. Granted, there are real psychics who are gifted and working on psychic network lines, but I have found that most of the people working as psychic advisors period, are not real at all. I'm sure you have heard by now that many fake psychics use scripts and certain formats in conducting their psychic readings, but for the most part, it's really simple what they tell you that gets you hooked. For example, if after getting a psychic reading, you find yourself feeling intoxicated almost, then they have done their job superbly. To be told that the one you love, loves you and that you will marry them and be together for the rest of your life is intoxicating. They give you hope that keeps you calling and calling until after you see that you have been lied to, you begin to face reality and the truth sinks in, you now realize that what they said was not true when they said it nor will it ever turn out to be true. You will find yourself hurt and disillusioned beyond the ordinary disillusionment experienced from your own life's complications. You may even find yourself broke or in debt. It's unconscionable that people could prey on others' vulnerabilities and pain in this way. But that is exactly what they do. And in the end, there is only more pain. And the inevitable distrust of psychics. It's this "fake" paradigm, which has its roots in the first elemental phone psychic networks, that dominates the public's perception and legitimate scrutiny is reasonable. But real psychics around the globe are out there and you should make it your business to find a foolproof way of determining who is real and who is not until such time as this paradigm is changed to ensure that your advisor is authentic by virtue of their credentials as it is for any professional practitioner.

Now you may frequent sites where the advisor is given feedback after your call. This is a good thing but, it is not foolproof. I have seen fake psychics who will have almost perfectly glowing feedback that goes on and on for pages. Perfect! You may wonder why this occurs. Simple. After you hear exactly what you want to hear or want to believe verified, well, this is where that intoxication comes in, you tend to reflect your glorious feelings with equally glowing feedback! But when things don't happen the way were told, you never come back. So, others following in your footsteps will call this advisor because "they too want to believe." Another thing to watch out for is fake feedback. This is also a tactic used by fakes to fool you. On sites where feedback is left, an authentic psychic advisor has to have a very high level of integrity in order to be comfortable telling the truth despite the fact of what the client wants to hear. If the psychic does not tell them what they want to hear in a reading, the client may leave very bad comments and a bad rating. It's the price you pay for being real. In my experience when I tell a client something they didn't want to hear, for the most part, they don't leave any comments. The fact is, they will most likely go find another psychic who will reflect their own feelings about the situation. A reading can be truthful and uplifting without bringing the client down but you have to ready to hear the truth. So how do you know who is real and who is not based on feedback! That is not to say that an authentic psychic is not going to have great feedback. They do, but sometimes they will be the ones to receive bad ratings and feedback mixed in with the good. Life is all about taking the good with the bad. Honestly, it's very hard to tell. The proof is really in the reading and outcomes and developing a relationship with a few trusted advisors who have been able to connect with you and your energy and have proven that their insights and predictions have been accurate for you. But, just remember, if it sounds unbelievably good, it probably is not really true and the psychic is not real and only setting up a line to take your money and setting you up for emotional failure. So be careful of perfect feedback. It's really not always an accurate gauge of the psychic advisors true abilities; except of course their ability to fleece you out of your dollars. Of course, really consistently bad feedback is a good indication that the advisor is probably just very bad and should think about going into another line of work.

Another point, you need to understand that even if you are speaking with a gifted, authentic psychic, you and that particular psychic may not connect that well. That is different from the psychic being fake. There a many reasons why a particular psychic may not connect with you. They may not be rested and ready to take calls, or you may not be relaxed and ready to receive truthful information or in some other way blocking the flow of what is being channeled thereby skewing the information on either side. Psychic readings are not an exact science. Intuition is relied upon to conduct an accurate psychic reading for a client. The reading goes much better when both the psychic advisor and client are relaxed and ready to receive. I personally find it difficult to connect with a client who wants to hear a certain thing. I have experienced many times my client trying to guide the reading. So see your authentic psychic advisor as someone who wants to help you and be ready to assist in the flow of information. To spot a fake psychic is not impossible, but if there was a way to quantify the statistic of fakes out there, I would be willing to bet that most (due in large part to large networks hiring script readers) are not real. Unfortunate, but through observation and experience, I feel this to be true. One of the Oldest Tricks in the Book. First Warning Sign That You Have Got a Fake! One of the oldest tricks in the book and something which continues to surprise me because people are continually taken in is when a psychic tells you someone has put a curse on you or there is a negative block on you which only they can remove for some exorbitant price, HANG UP! Say goodbye, because this person could not care less about you or your problems. Psychic parlors are notorious for this kind of activity. It is not for real, the curse nor the psychic. I have always believed that having a good doctor, a good mechanic and a good psychic are all professionals that are worth taking the time to assess their skill, experience and credentials to see if they are the one for you. There is nothing more satisfying than actually making a positive difference in someone's life and their continued use of your service over many years. A walking, talking testimonial is very gratifying for this psychic advisor.

Read Full Article Here: Psychic in Lavelle PA 17943

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homelesshaunts-blog · 8 years ago

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The Welcome Mat by Carl Marcus

A dark black cloud shows itself in a driveway, and there it takes the form and the shape of a man; heading towards a house that may within it have more then what it appears.

Welcome to Homeless Haunts. I'm Lavel Wideman, your Bloghost of Horror.

The Welcome Mat written by Carl Marcus, is a story that’s unsettling. It's a tale about a man who warns an old woman about a killer on the loose. There’s absolutely no one to trust but him. You readers better lock your doors and keep your eyes open, and make sure you stay quiet before you enter and read this small excerpt of a story. But wipe your shoes on the bloody door mat. You don't want to leave any tracks, but if you do, meet me in the Alley of Fear.

"...And police are intensifying their efforts to locate the patient who escaped from the Graham State Hospital this afternoon, after killing one of the staff. Again we've been asked to repeat an earlier warning: although appearing harmless, the escapee is capable of becoming extremely dangerous when aroused...More details on this story, and an eye-witness account of an attractive blonde in a bizarre filling station holdup, immediately after this important message..."

He waited until the commercial had begun before he knocked. Immediately the animated jingle was cut off. Now there was only the stir of light footsteps within the house, then silence.

Although he knew that the screen door was unlatched when he had rapped on it, he saw that the inner wooden door was closed. He assumed that a preliminary inspection of him was now being made through the peephole. Nonchalantly he glanced about, then down at his feet. He saw the blue door mat with THE FIELDS printed on it in white block letters.

No one answered the door, and when he'd waited the proper interval he rapped again patiently.

"Hello," he said. "It's Gorgon. Bart Gorgon. Bellamy's new's hired man. He sent me down the road to borrow some tools."

Again he heard the sound of light footsteps, and a moment later the inner door opened. A small woman with dark hair peered out at him.

"Mrs. Field's?" he asked through the screen.

"What was it you wanted?"

"I'm sorry to bother you on a night like this. I'm Bart Gorgon. Bellamy's new hired man. He sent me over to borrow your husband's set of tools. The one with all the socket wrenches. Bellamy said your husband would know which set."

He saw Mrs. Fields frown as she pushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. "Well, I don't know--"

"I don't blame you being suspicious, not having met me before. I just went to work for Bellamy today. But if you'll let me talk to your husband, he'll know about the tools. Bellamy set it all up with him."

"My husband--he's not here right now," Mrs. Fields said.

Gorgon rubbedd his chin. "Well, maybe I can wait around until he gets back...."

"No!" Mrs. Fields said quickly. Then she smiled. "What I mean is, I'd rather you come back in the morning. My husband will be home then." She started to close the door.

"Mrs. Fields, could I bother you for a glass of water before I go?..."

"Of course. I'll get it for you."

...He was standing in the kitchen doorway when she turned away from the sink with glass of water.

Fright widened her eyes and a bit of the water leaped out of the glass. Angrily she said, "Nobody asked you into this house!"

"Please don't get sore, Mrs. Fields. I don't intend to do you any harm."

"You scare a person to death, sneaking up behind them like that."

"I know," Gorgon nodded, while a smile tried to brighten his ugly face. "I know what you're trying to say. I'm big and ugly and not very smart. You can go ahead and say it because I've heard it all before. Lots of times."

"I didn't mean it that way, Mr. Gorgon, really I didn't. And I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about your--the way you look. Here's your water. And then leave. Please..."

"You know," he said, "you shouldn't be here all alone on a night like this--"

"I'll be all right. Now if you'll just leave--"

"--especially when I heard them announcing how that patient slipped out of Graham today. That's not too far from here and he could have traveled that stretch by now. And they get awfully mean at times. You just can't tell what they might do, finding a person all alone."

"I believe I can take care of myself, thank you. Now if you'll just leave me and let me lock all the doors, I'll manage fine."

Gorgon frowned and shook his massive head. "You don't understand at all, Mrs. Fields. Doors and windows don't stop them when they make up their minds to get something, or go somewhere...and they can break and tear, and kill. And yet they're no different in looks than you or me...Why, you could see one walking down the street, coming right towards you, and you wouldn't think anything about it."

Gorgon tried to reassure her with a grin. "What I'm trying to tell you is that the one that got out of Graham today could come right to your door, and you'd probably let him into the house because he wouldn't look mean or wild-eyed...They're so unpredictable."

As she set it into the sink Gorgon said, "I sure appreciate the way you've put up with me, Mrs. Fields...

Mrs. Fields smiled. "Well, you're welcome to stop by and chat any time--"

When the urgent knocking began at the front door he saw her stiffen with fright, while panic glazed her eyes. Suddenly she began whipping her head from side to side, like a trapped animal searching for a means of escape. Her mouth opened to let out a scream. Gorgon lunged forward his huge hand smothering most of her face...

Slowly he slipped his hand away from her face, and then he took her arm. Gently he moved her forward so that both of them came out of the kitchen together and walked into the front room.

He stopped then, and Mrs. Fields continued walking towards the door. Through the screen he could see distinguishing the figure of a slim blonde girl.

"...Who is it?"

" I need some help with my car. I've got a flat out on the highway."

"Come in, my dear."

Gorgon stood quietly, watching the girl as she entered. She was young, wearing a black sweater and slacks. The soiled and wrinkled trenchcoat was open in the front, and it was way too big for her...

"This is my husband," Mrs. Fields said. "Perhaps he'd be good enough to change it for you..."

The girl said, "Oh, that would be sweet of him." She smiled at Gorgon. "You're a doll..."

Gorgon's face reddened. She'd called him a doll but he could tell she didn't mean it. They never did. Fighting the anger in his voice he said, "You women are all the same. Smile and sweet talk a man when you want some dirty work to be done for you. But when an ugly guy like me wants to talk to you, just to be friendly, you run scared...Lady, you can get somebody else to change that tire."

When the girl's right hand came out of the trenchcoat pocket it was holding a revolver.

She pointed it at Gorgon's chest. "Okay, Buster, if that's the way you feel about it!...Now we'll take your car. Mama comes too..."

ALLEY OF FEAR

When blondie wakes up from that punch, she’ll find out who really was the lady of the house. The one upstairs with a knife in her heart.

Once you read the story, the story will let you know, not everyone from Graham State Hospital are large stocky crazed men. But they might be frail, tiny grandmothers. Little old ladies who could tear your head off if aroused. So we are not here to arouse them, okay folks.

The little old lady without a home, had to find a place to lay low while the police are looking for this crazed killer who pretends to own what isn't hers, and just for a little while.

But comes along a handyman named Gorgon. A real character, too. The one who appeared from out of the darkness, a bidding from his master (boss). Going to a home to retrieve tools to take back to his boss. When he hears news that a mad man is on the loose, wanting to be the good guy, but one thing stops him from really fulfilling that role. It’s his looks.

So what is a gargoyle?

Gargoyles: A waterspout in the form of a grotesque human or animal figure, projecting from the roof or eaves of a building.

ThisGorgon in the story, gives a prime example of the strong protector type. He wants to protect women like Mrs. Fields, but all she wants him to do is go away. He’s a man hung up on his looks, and does the best thing a Gargoyle in heart do, is to protect.

In France and England, Gargoyles hang majestically on churches tops, and sometimes if you look up in the clouds, in the day, it seems dark and gloomy around these statues. They are constructed to ward off evil spirits.

In the book of Revelation, Church metaphorically means Woman, so we must equate it to this story, and you'll see how the gargoyle fits. Look and read very carefully and you'll see two elements of surprise once you get through and understand it.

The Gargoyle...I meant to say Gorgon has a really hard time facing the truth about the way he looks, and he hates people looking at him for what they see in front of them, and not who he is on the inside. But if we live like Gorgon, we'll be doomed. No one should ever place themselves inside a prison, if people cannot see them for who they are. Our human hearts can only take so much. So the mistake Gorgon shown is what's going on in his life, forgetting his job. His duty was to bring back tools to his boss.

For now we'll place Gorgon the statue here in the Alley of Fear. It was he that came out of the darkness first on that fateful night and we have to make sure he no longer shows street-like behavior, just because he wasn't born with a kisser face. Not everyone has that kind of luck. Because all he was sent out to do was his master's bidding, and not show what's on the inside of stone.

Good evening ladies and gentlemen, in your own homes, and if you have one?

Homeless Haunts bringing the world of the poor to your door.

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