#happy very very very early spring from the moors

[hairtusk]

She lives on a moor in the north. She lives alone. Spring opens like a blade there.

[ltwilliammowett]

Mary Lacy - female sailor and shipwright

Mary Lacy (everything here is based on her self-written biography and should therefore be viewed with caution) was born on 12 January 1740. Although she came from a very poor family, she was quite educated and could even read and write. Although she had to help support her family through manual labour from an early age, she was finally sent to work as a servant in a household at the age of 12. The work there did not make her happy and so she packed her bags, disguised herself as a young man and disappeared to Chatham in 1759.

Mary Lacy, The female shipwright, 1800 (x)

There, as William Chandler, she became assistant to the Carpenter of HMS Sandwich, a newly launched ship of the line with 90 guns. From him she learned everything she needed for the carpenter's trade, even if her master was not always pleased with her. But she managed to make a name for herself among the men by winning boxing matches. However, she began to develop rheumatoid arthritis at an early age. This sent her to the sickbay for a long time. Fortunately, the Sandwich was on blockade duty off Brest, so she was able to recover in peace. Unfortunately, there are no detailed records of Mary's work on board as she skilfully omitted this from her biography. What she did recount was that a very strong storm repeatedly damaged the ship's main mast, forcing her back to the Plymouth for repairs. In November, it was the storm that held up the Sandwich until two days after Admiral Hawke caught up with and destroyed the French fleet in the Bay of Quiberon, one of the great victories of the English Navy. So Mary did not take part in the battle that ended the threat of a French invasion of England, but the war continued and the blockade of the French coast continued.

HMS Sandwich laying her mooring at sunset, by Jack Spurling, 1932 (x)

In 1760, when the Sandwich returned to Portsmouth, Mary was transferred to the hospital as she was again suffering from a severe rheumatic attack, she was under treatment but no one knew of her true sex. Somewhat to her chagrin, the Sandwich sailed without her, so she signed on with HMS Royal Sovereign, 100 guns. Like many men and women at sea, Mary suffered from scurvy. Although the Royal Sovereign was stationed in an English port, which meant that the crew would be supplied with fresh meat and vegetables, there was never enough to prevent the dreaded disease from affecting the men. The boatswain on board the Royal Sovereign. took fatherly care of Mary, and it was here that she was able to attend school on board, where she learned to "cast accompts [sic]". After a full year and nine months on board the ship, without having gone ashore once, the crew was finally paid off and discharged in December 1762.  Ashore in Portsmouth, Mary soon decided to begin an apprenticeship with a ship's carpenter. But after the signing of the peace treaty with Paris on 10 February 1763, many men had returned home and were looking for work. Nevertheless, Mary persisted. 

The flagship Royal Sovereign saluting at the Nore, by L. de Man (fl. c. 1725) (x)

Normally, a shipwright's apprenticeship was passed down from father to son. But in the spring of 1763, still pretending to be a man, Mary Lacy managed to learn a new trade. As an apprentice, she worked alternately in the dockyard or on a ship and thus learned the trade. Eight years after Mary Lacy left home, she received permission to visit her parents.  She was now twenty-seven. She found her family very well off and did not mention in her writing what her family thought of her living as a man. Only her family and a few close family friends knew the true identity of the visiting sailor. One of these family friends, a Mrs Low, later moved to Portsmouth, and although she had promised Mary never to reveal her secret, the woman began to tell anyone who would listen that William Chandler was a woman.  For several more years Mary managed to dispel the rumours about her gender, even going so far as to flirt with women and find herself a girlfriend to spend several months with without revealing her sex. 

Mary Lacy (detail) (x)

Finally, in the spring of 1770, after seven years of working towards it, Mary Lacy received her certificate and was officially declared a ship's carpenter.  For the first time, she received a living wage, even if the money was paid slowly. However, Mary's rheumatism kept flaring up, and finally, towards the end of 1771, with the help of a family lawyer friend, she applied for and received an invalid pension from the Navy as a woman. Mary Lacy, commonly referred to as Mrs Chandler according to the Navy Department, received twenty pounds a year. She published her memoirs The Female Shipwright in 1773 which brought her some money. But a year earlier she married the shipwright Josias Slade with whom she had 6 children by 1784, of whom only her first-born daughter and her last-born son reached adulthood. Both of them tried to get higher positions as servants in the dockyard, but their efforts were ignored. Mary finally died in 1801 and was buried at St Paul's, Deptford, Kent on 3 May 1801. Her husband, died in 1814 and was buried in St Paul's, Deptford, Kent, on 13 February 1814.

[dansnaturepictures]

Three of my favourite photos I took in March 2023 and month summary 

The three photos are of; Egyptian Goose at Petersfield Heath Pond, a spring view as sun came through at Magdalen Hill and snowflakes at Lakeside Country Park. 

As we approach the end of March I am once again feeling very happy and pleased with the wildlife and photography month I’ve had. It has been another fantastic birdwatching month with my year list in a phenomenal place for me well ahead of where all my other years were on this date, and I saw some brilliant and crucial species for my year this month and had so many fantastic moments watching birds. In terms of year ticks target species/ones to look for at this time of year Jack Snipe, Eider Duck, House and Sand Martin, Wheatear, Woodlark and a turn up for the books seeing them at Lakeside Lesser Redpoll were brilliant to see, with surprises Surf Scoter, Firecrest and Water Pipit some of my species of the year so far. Headlining many big bird moments for species already seen this year this month were the two nesting birds I am most connected to, as this month I had my best ever season for watching courting Great Crested Grebes at Lakeside getting exquisite views of two pairs doing more of the iconic courtship dance than I’d ever seen before which was a true honour and one of the most captivating and gleeful natural experiences of my year so far and seeing the Peregrine pair of Winchester Cathedral so much as their breeding season developed. The lunch time Water Rail seen at Winnall Moors early in the month was another big highlight. 

A massive point of my March was that from daffodils to snake’s-head fritillaries I have enjoyed a range of wildflowers and blossom, catkins, buds and new green leaves spring into action bringing hopeful colour to the landscape with blossom around and flowers at home enjoyed too. And I took my first steps into my butterfly year with a few seen mostly Brimstone as well as bees/hoverflies. It’s been a memorable month of mammals with good fungi and spider moments too. I took in some great landscapes with a lot of time spent outdoors this month which was pleasing and took many photos this month once more. I hope you all have a nice April when we get there. 

[phytochorion]

How the Forest Finds the Island

Chapter Ten - Community Effort

Sen awoke in the morning quite unsure where he was. Someone's arm was on him and unfamiliar smells pervaded the warm space. His mind adjusted and started to make sense of the situation. He could make out little Belek nearby, while Aliwen had the whole Quacey clan wrapped in her wings. Reassured, he sat up and headed outside.

Si-woo waved to him. Jake and Askarya were breakfasting on the remaining rations, regarded by Sirichai. Sen sat alongside them.

"You're up early."

Si-woo shrugged. "Restless when I'm in a new place. Besides, Admiral's got a job for us."

"Request," corrected Sirichai. "I'm afraid I can't pay you, not in cash. But there'll be something in it for you all the same."

"Oh, don't worry about that, we're happy to- ei?"

He was cut off by a determined nudge from Si-woo.

"Hey, if the Admiral wants to give us something for our troubles, who are we to say no?", he urged Sen in an undertone.

Sen laughed. "Very well, Admiral, I look forward to what you have in store for us."

Sen scratched one shoulder. With the fine spring weather, his wingbuds had been growing steadily since he emerged from hibernation. As Si-woo swivelled to say something to Askarya, Sen saw his wings had already unfurled.

Sirichai, clearly thinking along similar lines, commented, "your wings are looking fit to burst, Maidenhair. Think you'll be in shape to fly to the boat with us?"

"Hmm, yes, I reckon. Let me warm myself up."

"Take your time, I'll go rouse those layabouts."

Sen hopped off his perch and back up the scree slope they'd descended yesterday. He had a good view of the whole gully. A bit away from the burned out campfire, Kai and Elei were sparring. He had no idea who was the better of the two, as both were ending up on the ground a lot.

As the sun climbed higher, his wingbuds began to itch, straining against the thin parenchyma containing them. He fell still, enduring the familiar sensation, until the pressure gave way and his wings opened up and spread out.

⸙ ⸙ ⸙

Once the others emerged, Sirichai made a quick circuit of the group to gauge who else was willing to help. All of his crew put themselves forward, while Jake, Joe, Aliwen and Gawain also volunteered. With a rustling of leafy wings they rose, Askarya waving them off.

Sen found the process of flying on tender wings easier than last time, the relearning experience serving him well. As they progressed seaward, he investigated what Aliwen had been up to since he saw her last.

"Po, same old, same old."

She managed to shrug mid-wingbeat.

"But you've got a boyfriend now and everything!", argued Sen.

"Huh, has it really been that long since I've seen you? Well, Gawain is such a sweet boy, really makes me feel special, cachai?"

"Um, sure," Sen replied, watching Gawain soaring a few wingspans away. He was a rather unremarkable looking boy, but Sen supposed he should get to know him a little before judging if he was a good match for Aliwen.

"There she is!", announced Sirichai, as his ship came into view, moored at the high tide line.

"Ohhh, crap," groaned Kai. "We've got company!"

Everyone swung their heads in different directions, trying to locate what he'd seen, but it quickly became clear that his attention wasn't on the air, but the ground.

"Well, it was going to happen eventually," sighed Sirichai.

The source of their discontent quickly became clear. Crawling all over the hulls and mast of the ship were assorted herbivorous insects. Most appeared to be miomopterans and paleodictyopterans, with a few glosselytrodeans thrown in.

"Alright folks, battle stations," ordered the admiral.

"Sir, yes, sir!", responded Elei, Kai, Belek, Ponnarasu, Aliwen and Gawain. Sen, Si-woo, Jake and Joe looked at each other.

Kai folded his wings and fell. Plunging feet-first into the black sand, he stood firm, coralloid roots sprouting from his legs and writhing down, down into the sediment. Elei was right behind, skimming just over him with pollen streaming from her crown. It drifted in a shimmering cloud down onto the bugs, though without immediate effect as far as Sen could see.

Aliwen crunched down beside Kai and started shaking spores from her own crown, creating an effervescent fog around them. Jake looked to Sirichai.

"What's the plan, Admiral?"

"I have three priorities," replied Sirichai. "Number one, preserve the wellbeing of my crew. For the time being, that includes all of you."

Sen felt his heart dance a jig at those words, and he could tell Si-woo felt the same.

"Number two," listed the admiral. "Protect my ship and cargo. And three, drive off those damnable arthropods. If possible, get the bugs away from my ship before going on the offensive to avoid collateral damage, but above all, keep yourselves safe. You got that?"

"Aye aye, Admiral," saluted Jake. "Gee up!"

The four of them flew in close formation to the shore. Jake and Joe peeled off to land on the beach, Sen and Si-woo continued out over the waves. Sen hovered, looked to the sky and concentrated. Si-woo alighted on the sea's surface and raised his arms, trying to entrain the salt water to his beck and call.

"Si-woo!"

"Yeah?!"

"My magic's not working! There's no ginkgos anywhere near here!"

"I'm in the same boat! Uh, metaphorically."

Jake and Joe were getting on slightly better. Their fast-growing, wind dispersed ferns had spread unassisted as far as the nearby dunes, giving them a resource to draw on. Jake thrust an outstretched palm toward the waves, whipping up scouring sand grains. Joe heated the air around his body and combined it with the effects of his friend's magic to create a hot sandblast that tore into the swarm of bugs. In a sudden panic, the insects scattered from the vessel and flew in all directions. A few unfortunates swerved right into the stream of sand and dropped into the waves with tattered wings.

"Hey, watch my boat!", called the admiral. "You'll strip the varnish off like that!"

"Begging your pardon, sir!", Jake shouted back, redirecting the miniature sandstorm further out to sea. Sen and Si-woo rose to avoid it, noticing that although scattered, the bugs hadn't fled far, and some were moving back in to grab another bite.

"Try and keep them from landing!", Sirichai commanded. He swooped into formation alongside both of them, and together they made a series of passes, using midair jabs and kicks to give the insects pause for thought. Sirichai directed them in tightening circles, corralling their foes into a clustered mass.

"Miss Oleanane, you're up!", Ordered Sirichai.

"On it!", responded Elei. Landing in front of Kai and Aliwen, she whipped her arms forward in circles, the tough lignin in her skin fracturing and beginning to protrude in shards. With a rippling crack, the elastic material snapped, catapulting itself forward with a final swing of her arms. A hail of jagged sclerenchyma tore through the swarm, ripping apart bodies, limbs and wings. Elei let her arms go limp.

Sirichai waved to Belek, Gawain and Ponnarasu, who were still airborne. Nodding, they saw off the survivors, pursuing them until they had fled an acceptable distance. The others regrouped on the beach.

“Okay! I’m ready!”, proclaimed Kai, causing the rest of them to jump. He heaved one leg out of the sand, festoned with spongy, coral-like roots. The other followed, and he took up a fighting stance, legs apart and arms outstretched. “Lemme at ‘em!”

A stray miomopteran flew their way. Kai spun into the air, plunging down again fist-first and pulverising the insect in one blow. “Yeah, that’s what you get!” He wiped haemolymph off his wing. “What’s next?”

“We… I think we’re finished,” shrugged Sirichai.

“What, seriously?” Kai rotated his neck with a loud crack. “Man, I was just getting started.”

Sen peered curiously between him, an exasperated-looking Elei, and Aliwen, who was sharing one of Si-woo’s spore cakes. Taking Sirichai aside, he inquired, “Admiral, how are your crew such effective magic users? Si-woo and I were having trouble mustering any strength out here, there are none of our plants nearby.”

“That’s always the problem when you’re out at sea. Probably one of the reasons not many fairies go there,” agreed Sirichai. “When you don’t have a mature forest to draw on, you’re forced to improvise. Kai and Elei have worked out a way to draw magic from their own bodies.”

“Their bodies?”, repeated Sen in a horrified whisper. “But that’s their life force! That could kill them!”

Sirichai looked down solemnly. “A risk they’re willing to take. I don’t ask any of my crew to put themselves in any more danger than I’d put myself. But being away from their forests really started to get to them, and they spent decades casting around for some way to still work magic while sailing. This is the solution they hit upon. And I assure you they’re careful with it, they spent a long time learning their limits, and they make sure to recuperate afterwards.”

Sen raised an eyebrow. “I mean no disrespect, but I really hope Belek hasn’t been doing that.”

The admiral smiled. “No worries there, Maidenhair, I believe they take after your cautious nature. The rest of the deckhands have found a slightly safer source of magic. Let me show you.”

Sirichai turned to his crew. “Ready to unload?”

“Aye aye!”

“Well hop to it then!”

Ponnarasu floated down on a sea breeze and landed aboard the boat. He undid a few ropes and let down the gangplank, the others scurrying up on deck. Sen and Si-woo trailed after them, marvelling at the craft’s construction. She was composed of many hollow Gnetum seed cases, floating vertically and lashed together by supple, living vines. She had a decking of bark, varnish of waterproof resin, and a twig mast with huge, waxy leaves billowing out as sails. A simple craft, really just a raft with extra rigging, but still the most beautiful and seaworthy vessel either of the two friends had ever laid eyes on.

“Welcome,” announced Admiral Baegu, “to the good ship Emping!” The crew cheered, and after a moment, Sen and Si-woo joined in. “Now, to business,” commanded the admiral. “Aliwen, Elei, get those lids off.”

The women knelt and slid sections of the deck aside, hauling up the seed cases beneath. They were dark from long exposure to water, with handles clamped onto them for ease of access, and, as Sen watched in rapt fascination, he noticed the tops had been expertly sliced to form lids. It was these that Aliwen began prizing open, layers of caked, sticky gum popping free with a dry gasp of air.

“Take a look,” she smiled, beckoning them closer. Curious, Sen and Si-woo stepped forth. When they saw what was inside, Sen couldn’t contain a gasp of delight.

“Ginkgos!”, he squealed, hands flying to his cheeks. “Oh Aliwen, oh Sirichai, I don’t- how can I- how did you know?!”

Sirichai laughed. “You’re always one to take the initiative, Maidenhair. As soon as I heard about this place, I had a feeling you’d be among the first here. And establishing yourself on virgin ground is hard, I know, so I thought the little gesture might be appreciated.”

“This is much more than a gesture, there’s- how many are in here? Eight? Ten?”

“All from unrelated plants,” chuckled Sirichai.

“You really don’t know how much this means… how can I thank you enough? With this, I’ll have forested half the island in no time!” He embraced Sirichai warmly, who grinned and lifted him off the ground.

“And don’t you worry, Callixylon, I have a little something for you too!”, the admiral continued.

Si-woo’s ears instantly perked up. “You don’t mean…?”

“Yep!”

Elei heaved open the next lid, and with a gentle rustling, somewhere between sand and leaf litter, the spores inside flowed over each other.

Si-woo whooped and lifted into the air. "Oh my gosh, you remembered me! Nice, this should save me a few return trips."

Enthralled, he scooped a handful of spores, watching as they slipped through his fingers and back into the pile.

"My crew all brought some seeds for their own gardens, plus a few more gifts, should we run into old friends." Sirichai looked to Sen. "This is how your cousin can maintain their skills so far from land. Even an unsprouted seed contains the potential of a vigorous plant, the desire to grow. It’s not quite like drawing magic from a fully grown tree, but Belek has found a way to make it work."

⸙ ⸙ ⸙

Over the course of the day, the seed cases that formed the body of the admiral's ship were carefully loosened and extracted. As they came free, the vines, twigs and leaves of the ship folded in on themselves with a little guidance from Sirichai. Wrapping around the few empty cases left, they came to resemble a little shoot growing from a pile of fallen fruit. The admiral was happy to let each fairy fly off with their own crate of seeds or spores, so long as they return them once empty. That way, he explained, they could be stored in one place and lashed back together whenever the sea next called.

Sen's parcel was heavier than the two ginkgo fruits he'd brought from Epiphyllia, and more awkwardly shaped. This time, with the luxury of flying overland, he decided to transport it back to his garden in short hops, first from the beach to the fort, and from there, back home.

Si-woo accompanied him, and after landing, they popped in to the woven fortress to fill the others in on what had transpired. Jess and Glen listened excitedly to how they'd driven off the insectile menace, while Nathair seemed less impressed but hearkened politely all the same.

Some of Sirichai's crew and passengers, along with the pioneers, had already begun sowing seeds and spores around the structure. Once the bare ground was covered by a carpet of green, it would provide shelter from the elements as well as other potential threats.

The two friends spoke with some of the crew, finding out their long-term plans for the site. Afterwards, they hastened to show their surprise gifts to Askarya. They found the third member of their group sitting outside, stock-still, reasonable behaviour for a fairy. Seeing them approach, the lichen-encrusted figure roused themself.

"Hi Sen. Si-woo. How was the boat?"

"Oh, fabulous!", gushed Sen. "Look what we got!"

He creaked open the lid of the cask, proudly displaying the seeds, while Si-woo did likewise.

"Oh, oh wow. Pretty cool," admitted Askarya. "That admiral must really like you."

"You think?", claimed Si-woo, running a hand through his tresses.

"I was talking to Sen," they jibed back. Si-woo clutched his chest and mimed falling over.

They chatted for a bit longer, then Sen and Si-woo started the next leg of their journey. As they lifted on a thermal, Sen looked over his shoulder.

"It's nice that Askarya was happy for us. But…"

"But?", prompted Si-woo.

"Well, now I feel bad we had nothing to give them. It's not Baegu's fault, they're not acquainted, but I feel we should have made an effort. I was so caught up in my excitement it didn't occur to me."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it," Si-woo advised. "You deserve to enjoy life's pleasant twists. And Askarya isn't one to take things the wrong way. Well, they kinda are, but next time you see them, just offer to help them with their lichen planting, yeah? No harm done."

"You're right. Maybe I'll fly them out to somewhere we haven't explored, and have it all to ourselves."

"That's the spirit."

[queridopascal]

Annie congratulations on the follower milestone, you deserve every single one and so much more. 🍾🍾🥳🥳🥳🥳🥰🥰🥰🥰

For the celebration could I please have number 47 and 50 from the fluff prompt list with Javi Gutierrez. I’ll leave the rest up to you my dear 💕

Hope that’s ok ☺️

Thank you Char, love you! 💜

I apologize in advance because I don’t know what this is! Have mercy on me!

Pairing: Javi Gutiérrez x F!Reader (“mi Solecito”)

Warning: they elope!

47. “we could run away.”

50. “this isn’t adrenaline, i want to spend my life with you.”

The spring sun is setting low in the sky, its warm colours staining the Mediterranean view with wonderful tones of pink and orange, reflecting in the ocean like a pretty watercolor painting.

A chilly breeze ruffles through the tall palm trees, signalling that dusk will soon leave space to an early blooming evening. The days have gotten longer, but still not long enough to dine outside on the terrace.

As you take in the Mallorcan horizon, your attention gets caught by the footsteps echoing right behind you, the pattern one you would be able to recognize among the biggest of crowds.

“Is everything okay, mi Solecito?” he asks as he rests one hand on your back, caressing it gently.

“Yeah,” you sigh, turning to him. The mustard yellow shirt he’s wearing really suits him, it accentuates his naturally tanned skin and brings out his brown eyes.

“You sure? You seem... pensive.” he murmurs, stepping even closer to you and resting his chin atop of your shoulder.

“I just... I wish we could be alone. You and me, and no one else. No butlers, no housekeepers. No security guards.” you confess, tilting your head to the side until your temple touches his hair.

“Mi Solecito,” he begins, turning his head up and to the side to place a sweet kiss on your cheek. “we already talked about this. It’s not safe for us to be alone, you need protection.”

“You need that, too.”

“You need it more than me. You were a complete stranger to all of this until a few months ago.”

You slowly pull away from his gentle grip, and look straight into his eyes. “Why can’t we just... leave? We could run away from all this for a few days, we could... we could do something crazy.”

Javi takes a deep breath, eyes scanning the view that extends before his eyes. “You want to elope?”

You hadn’t thought about that as your idea of “doing something crazy”, but now, the word alone excites you.

“Wait —” you stare at him as you place your hands on his chest, trying to smooth out the small creases on his shirt. “would you really consider doing that?”

He mulls over those words for a few seconds, letting them imprint into his brain. He knows that a little “escapade” will surely benefit him, too; he’s been very tense and anxious lately, always focusing on protecting you from the world he brought you in. He loves the idea of getting to spend some quality time with his better half, and he could definitely call in a few favors to make something happen.

“Yes. Yes, I would.” he declares in the end, surprised by his own admission.

You raise your eyebrows, eyes widening in disbelief. “Don’t mess with me.”

“I am not messing with you, mi Solecito. I promise.” he reassures you as he caresses your shoulders.

“You’re just saying this to make me happy. Because of what I told you five minutes ago.” you sigh, looking away. “It’s just a momentary thrill, like... an adrenaline rush.”

Javi cups your cheeks, making you look into his eyes. “This isn’t adrenaline,” he whispers as he traces your jaw. “I want to spend my life with you. And since you want us to be alone, eloping sounds great right now. ”

You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. “Don’t lead me on.”

“You don’t believe me?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Take my hand.”

You do as you’re told and, in an instant, he drags you down the stairs of the terrace and towards the dock, where his speedboat is moored.

“KEYS!” he shouts; confused, one of his boatmen hesitates for a few seconds before throwing him a set of keys with a red leather keychain.

Once you both reach the boat, Javi helps you get into it and positions himself behind the helm before turning on the engine.

He glances in your direction with a wide smile. “Ready, mi Solecito?”

You nod, incredulous, eyes shining with excitement.

The speedboat sprints towards the sunset, the destination unknown. But all that matters, is that you and Javi will finally get to be alone.

[monstersandmaw]

Nonbinary incubus x reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

"Keep the Tumblr stories to around 3k words, Ghosti."

"So how long is this one?"

"Oh... uh..." *shuffles* "...Five and a half thousand?"

Haha, yes, as much as I tried, this one is also a bit longer than I wanted, but, for the third story available for the $5 tier on early release this month, I give you 5.5k words of nb incubus x reader. We also have a new location to add to Starfall Springs, and it's not quite what you might expect for the sleepy little town...

Contents: our incubus would probably have been assigned male at birth but they use they/them pronouns, gender/body neutral reader, erotic dancing, and come-marking if you squint...

This has been up on my Patreon for a week now on early release so it’s time to put it up here on Tumblr.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you asked, blinking at your friend in open-mouthed incredulity. “Starfall Springs has a… strip club?”

The gnoll grinned, the look absolutely feral for just a heartbeat. “Oh yes. The Silkfoot family tried to have it closed down, especially after their youngest son was seen frequenting it, but Sarrigan actually helped to fund it as one of his business ventures after he started up his antiques company… It’s doing really well…”

“Well… I don’t know what to say! I never would have thought that a sweet, sleepy little place like Starfall Springs would have something so…”

Mako’s brows rose - as much as a gnoll’s could, anyway - and he yipped softly in amusement and dug you in the ribs. “We’re definitely going there now for your birthday.”

“Mako, I’ve never… I… I don’t know if it’s my kind of place, you know?”

“Come on, it’s not as if it’s that wild. As you say, it is Starfall Springs after all…”

You swallowed, not entirely sure you believed him, but in the end, you agreed to go.

Your birthday dawned bright and warm, and before any of your friends or family could message or call, you took yourself off to the dinky little harbour in the town to treat yourself to a takeaway breakfast from the bakery, and a coffee from the tiny little cart that made the best damned coffee in the universe. It was something for yourself, and it had become a sacred ritual back in the city. Now, as you strolled through the quiet streets, with nothing but your own footsteps and the whispering promise of the sea at the end of the cobbled lane for company, you smiled. Moving to Starfall Springs had been one of the best ideas you’d ever had.

“Morning!” Khargrin smiled as you stepped into the bakery and inhaled blissfully, eyes fluttering closed for a moment at the sheer gorgeousness of the scent of bread and sugar in the air.

You returned the smile to the enormous orc, and placed your order for two of their fresh pastries.

“Still warm from the oven,” Khargrin chuckled as he slid them into a paper bag for you. “Here.” He frowned slightly. “Anything special about today? You’re earlier than usual,” he asked, still holding onto the bag as you went to take it.

Laughing, you admitted that it was your birthday, and he promptly refused to take any kind of payment.

“I didn’t tell you that so you’d give me free breakfast, Khar,” you groused.

He let go of the bag as if it had burned him and said with such melodramatic flare that a mummer would have been proud of the display, “You’ve touched it now! You have to take it! Get out of my shop, foul human! Begone! And have yourself a wonderful birthday while you’re at it!”

Shaking your head fondly at the big orc’s antics, you accepted but didn’t leave right away.

“Any plans for today?” he asked as he bustled about, stocking the display with goodies from the back.

“Quiet day, I think,” you said, “But Mako has plans for tonight… I’m wary.”

“Knowing that gnoll, it involves Midnight Aurora, doesn’t it?”

“Midnight Aurora?” The name wasn’t familiar to you. “You mean the club over on the north side of town?”

The orc nodded. “Yup. And before you say anything about it, my sister works there…” he added with a twinkle in his eye and a lopsided grin on his handsome face.

“I will think very carefully before I tell you about my reaction to my experiences there then,” you grinned. “Anyway, see you Khargrin.”

“Enjoy your day,” he said. “And your night. And if it involves my big sister at all, I don’t want to know.”

You snorted and headed out into the brightening day. The fresh wind hit you full in the face, bringing with it the sharp tang of iodine from the sea, and you watched two merfolk spiralling through the water like racing dolphins, breaching the surface and sending sparkling droplets spraying up against the side of a moored fishing boat before they cleared the boundary of the harbour and disappeared out into the wider ocean.

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” a quiet voice said from beside you.

Tearing your eyes from the horizon, you turned to find someone tall and slim standing beside you. With lilac skin, long, silver-white hair, and elegantly-tapering ears, they might have been a tiefling, but you couldn’t see any horns, and something about the intensity of their ruby red eyes made you wonder.

“Mmm,” you hummed noncommittally.

Their gaze flickered to the pastries in your hand and their Cupid’s-bow lips curved into a smile that made your stomach flip over, revealing double canines, both top and bottom. “Khargrin makes the best almond croissants in the whole world,” they commented.

“Just needs one of Sophie’s coffees to go with, and I’m all set for my birthday breakfast,” you blurted unthinkingly.

At that, their eyebrows rose. “It’s your birthday? Happy birthday.”

“Thanks. I’m not sure how I feel about being another year older, but -” you shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Well, not to be inappropriate, but you look wonderful. May I get you that coffee?”

Were they flirting with you? You weren’t exactly known for being able to read people all that well. You blinked. “You don’t have to do that,” you said, stepping back. “I mean… you don’t even know me.” People in Starfall Springs were just like that, you knew from first hand experience already, but still, it was… unnerving for someone like you from the city.

That blinding smile never flickered, but they did shift a little. Oh. They had a tail. Perhaps they were a tiefling after all. They also had hooves, dark and shiny, visible beneath the wide cuff of their loose, black linen trousers. Looking a little more closely at them, now that you were no longer distracted by that gorgeous, heart-flutteringly beautiful smile, you realised that they wore a sleeveless vest, white, and that their chest was flat and their stomach obviously toned. Their arms too were slim but muscular, and they bore tattoos in geometric patterns from their fingertips right the way up their arms and neck to their earlobes. You swallowed. You’d never met someone so alluring in your whole life and your skin began to tingle.

At that moment, their pupils dilated visibly and they swallowed, long, tapering ears drooping a little. “Never mind,” they said. “I’m being overbearing. I’ll… leave you in peace. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

Before you could call after them, or tell them they’d got the wrong idea, they turned around, their long white hair swinging in a thick plait right down their back to their tail, and hurried away. Halfway across the street, a swirl of dark, inky magic enveloped them, and they disappeared completely.

“What the…?” you hissed.

Even Sophie’s amazing coffee didn’t taste quite as good as it usually did, and for the rest of the day, as you picnicked with your friends on the sloping meadow above the Temple, lounging while music played through a little speaker and chocolate frosting melted in the sun, you kept recalling the way those garnet red eyes had turned from warm and playful to achingly sad.

“What’s up with you?” Mako asked, lolling over onto his back with his front paws bent, like a retriever begging for a belly rub.

Affectionately, you reached over and scratched his upper chest, which still made his hind leg kick. His powerful hyena jaws softened and he moaned. “Oh that’s so good,” he moaned. “You give the best scritches.”

“Hey!” came the disgruntled protests of his boyfriend from beside you. You didn’t stop, and he shook his head fondly. “Honestly, it’s probably true. Good job I can do other things to you, huh?”

Mako growled playfully, but left it at that. “What time shall we come by to pick you up for tonight?” he asked a while later, glancing up at you with his big, brown eyes.

You shrugged. “What time do we have to be there?”

“Nine?” he asked. “We could go for drinks somewhere else first? Or you could come to ours and we could have something to eat and drink there before? Up to you.”

With snacks and a few drinks in you, the three of you left Mako’s apartment that night and headed over to Midnight Aurora. You walked up a narrow, cobbled street to be met by Erin, Aemilius, and Florian - a satyr, vampire, and a cervitaur respectively - halfway down.

Aemilius heard your approach first, turning to face you to clap and cheer. “Happy Birthday!!” he practically sang at the top of his lungs, and you rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile.

Together, the six of you headed up towards the top end of town, which looked magical that night, bathed in summer moonlight, with the bars and restaurants in the area now lively and bustling where they normally sat quietly during the day. Twinkling strings of fairy lights illuminated the way, and a shop sign swung in the slight breeze as you passed beneath it, showing a triple moon in glinting silver.

Midnight Aurora wasn’t as packed as you’d worried it would be, and honestly it was more of a theatre than a club, though beneath the stage was a dance space on the floor, currently full of tables. Tonight was obviously a more formal night. A bar filled the left hand side of the room, illuminated by LEDs beneath the counter in the shifting patterns and colours of the bar’s namesake, and a drow and a goblin worked seamlessly together to keep patrons happily topped up. Erin was apparently dating one of the bouncers, which was how you’d all been able to get tickets at short-ish notice. Normally they sold out weeks in advance.

Mako dug you in the ribs. “Not quite what you were expecting, huh?”

You had to admit that it wasn’t. It was classy but relaxed, buzzing but not overwhelming.

Currently onstage was a tall, powerful, muscular female orc and you tried not to look too hard at her, knowing that somehow Khargrin would know you’d been admiring his sister because… wow.

Swallowing, you looked away and croaked, “Drinks?”

“Thought you’d never suggest it,” Aemilius grinned. “First round is on me,” he said. “Take a seat and I’ll join you shortly.”

“Do we not get a say in what we have?” you laughed as Mako and his boyfriend steered you towards a table right in the middle of the floor while Aemilius strode away, lost in the low light and crush of people in seconds.

“Just let him have his way,” Erin said. “He probably knows what you want better than you do anyway.”

Deciding, not for the first time that night, just to go with it, you let the entertainment wash over you. It wasn’t all erotic dancing - there was a tap group that absolutely blew you away with their skill and synchrony, leaving you as breathless as had the bovitaur and his set of half-naked orcs that had preceded them.

“I think the variety is going to kill me,” you hissed at Mako and he snickered.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself. They’re all really good, aren’t they?”

You had to nod. It wasn’t worth shouting over the appreciative audience’s wild applause. An octomer had just begun her set, involving a rope and a tank below, and you watched as she began and her coiling limbs hauled her effortlessly up out of the water by the rope.

Somewhere just shy of midnight, when the final act was announced, however, a strange and excited hush descended on the crowd, and you looked to Mako who just winked at you. “Wait for it,” he said. “Happy birthday.”

“O…kay?” you frowned warily.

The lights cut out without warning, and from the pitch black, two slender spotlights flashed on, illuminating a pair of dark hooves in the centre of the stage. The lights travelled slowly, teasingly, up over smooth purple skin, up a pair of slender, well-muscled legs, revealing a pair of glittering and very tiny silver hotpants, a lashing tail like a whip, a toned stomach with strangely familiar, geometric tattoos going up the dancer’s sides, over their ribs, and up their neck. A long, white ponytail dangled down the dancer’s back, and you gasped as red eyes blinked out at the crowd.

It couldn’t be? The meek and shy person you’d met earlier that morning was… here? Looking like that? They carried themselves with a quiet, contained dignity that drew you in and demanded your entire attention. Where this morning you’d found their bashful, flirtatious shyness alluring, now it was their stance that knocked you breathless as they stood with the self-assuredness of a tango dancer, waiting for the music to begin.  

The music started with the slow pulse of a sleeping heartbeat, and they swayed their hips from side to side, eyes now closed. Even from that distance, you could see the way their eyelids had been kohled, adding further length and depth to their already almond shaped eyes, and a shimmering powder had been applied to their high cheekbones to heighten the sculptural quality that their face naturally possessed.

As if they had no idea they were dancing before a crowd, the strange, alluring dancer swayed, sinuous as a banner in the breeze, twisting and turning slowly, caught up in the low, hypnotic beat. You could barely breathe as you stared, transfixed. The energy in the room picked up, thrumming, and everyone seemed to be sitting there with their mouths open and their eyes half-lidded.

The difference between earlier on the seafront and now was almost unbelievable. Gods, they had the most incredible figure, and with the same shimmering powder accentuating every highlight on their bare chest and stomach, their dark purple skin gleamed in the lights.

When the beat changed, becoming faster and more energetic, they finally opened their eyes but their gaze locked above the crowd, as if they were still pretending not to have noticed you all staring in wonder at them. It didn't take an expert to see that they’d been classically trained at some point, and the graceful arrangement of their wrists and hands over their head made you think of meadow grasses blowing in the wind before the tension returned with a snap and they evoked the sheer commanding power of a paso doble dancer. They were mesmeric, and it was easy to see why they’d been placed last in the order for the evening.

Erin leaned over to whisper in your ear, “They’re an incubus…”

“Oh,” you breathed. And suddenly your reaction to them earlier made sense. Your stomach dropped unpleasantly. “Oh,” you said again. Had your reaction just been an accident then? As far as you knew, incubi and succubi could control the way their influence worked on people, but if they’d simply sparked that lust in you, did that make it real? You felt a little sick at that.

The longer you thought about it, the less the show held your attention. They were undeniably exquisite, and an extremely talented dancer, but it lost its magic for you the moment you realised that your reaction probably wasn’t real. The incubus was feeding off the lust in the room, the crowd’s desire for them, and the action of feeding created more lust.

As the dance seemed to be working towards its finale, you found you could bear it no longer. Abruptly, you stood and turned away, heading for the bathroom. You were the only person moving in the room besides the incubus on stage, and no one even noticed you leaving. Mako tried to grab your wrist as you left, but you were gone before he could follow or stop you.

At the door to the bathroom, you glanced back and found that the incubus was looking straight at you while dancing without breaking step. Even at this distance, they were truly stunning. You smiled sadly, and ducked out, remaining there until their set finished.

When you emerged, the theatre was buzzing. The chairs and tables had been cleared as if by magic, and the space had been opened up for the patrons to dance now. Mako and his boyfriend were quietly making out in one corner, though they were being relatively subtle for them, Erin was nowhere to be seen, and, as you looked around, you spotted Florian with two dancers and… was that… underwear dangling from one antler? Well, he was certainly entertained at any rate.

A movement to your right caught your eye, and you saw that Aemilius had found a partner to dance with, drawing the eyes of anyone nearby. With his sense of rhythm, he could probably have worked at Midnight Aurora himself.

“Flashy vampire,” you chuckled fondly as you watched the pair of them dance. The elf he’d found had glowing white skin, which complemented his own extremely dark skin beautifully, and you watched for a while before going over to the bar. Leaning against it, you waited alone for the glass of water you’d ordered to come your way.

To your surprise, when you turned around to pick it up, you found the incubus standing beside you. They were clothed now in a loose, white t-shirt that mostly hid the form of their beautiful body beneath, but anyone who had seen them dancing knew what lay under the shapeless top anyway. Their long legs were still on full display though, covered down to the mid thigh by the white t-shirt, and they wore a pair of platform heels that did obscene things to the muscles of their thighs and drew the attention of passers by.

“Hi,” you smiled, not wanting to be seen as prudish, especially after they’d witnessed your exit during their spectacular performance. “You dance beautifully…”

“Thanks,” they smiled. “Can I get you a drink since I didn’t manage to get you that coffee this morning?”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

Their smile broadened. “It’s your birthday, and I didn’t get to give you your actual present.”

Something anxious twisted inside you. “My actual present?”

“Mmm,” the incubus hummed. “Your friends were hoping I’d give you a private show.”

“They were?” you asked, turning to find Erin graining at you from the other end of the bar. “They already paid you?”

You watched with sinking dread as they nodded. When they saw your evident lack of enthusiasm, however, they said, “I don’t have to though. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that,” you said. “And I don’t doubt your… uh… talents… I just… I’d rather have something… real, you know?”

“It’s just a lap dance,” they said, prickling slightly.

“I know,” you hastened to reassure them in case they thought you were thinking of other things they could be doing to you which the club definitely wouldn’t allow. “I’m not suggesting otherwise. I just mean… this isn’t really my thing, you know?”

That sad expression you’d seen earlier crept back into their red eyes and they nodded. “Not everyone is comfortable with being around an incubus. I understand. Let me use the money to get you a drink, and you can give the rest back to your friends.”

The congealing atmosphere between you suddenly made you want to choke. As they turned away, you reached for them and grabbed their forearm. The tattoos on their arm flared white hot and you gasped, reeling backwards as a short but intense blast of energy sent you staggering backwards. You hit the bar and wheezed as the air was knocked from your chest.

“Fuck,” the incubus gasped, darting over. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

This was not going the way you hoped at all. “What was that? I didn’t mean… I wasn’t going to hurt you…”

“They’re protection runes,” the incubus explained, touching you carefully at the elbow to steady you and get you to raise your head a little. “They stop people grabbing me while I’m working…”

“That happens a lot?” you asked, flexing and making sure nothing was bruised. You were fine. Surprised and winded, but fine.

With a wry look, they admitted, “It’s an… occupational hazard.”

A few people were watching the exchange now, tossing you dirty looks, and you wanted nothing more than to leave the place altogether. “Look, I didn’t mean any harm. I was just trying to get your attention before you went.”

“Well it worked,” they grinned, and you found yourself laughing. They glowered over their shoulder, and the small audience bustled off elsewhere.

“Guess it did.”

“Should we start over?”

You looked at them and nodded. “Sure.”

“I’m Ferren,” they said, extending their hand to you. When you eyed it warily, they laughed. “It won’t hurt you.”

Taking it, you saw the black, geometric shapes pulse white for a moment and let the tingling rush of sensation sweep through you at the contact. Then rather hoarsely, you grunted your own name. Their fingers tightened around yours and then they withdrew. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I… I get the feeling like I’ve insulted you, but I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

“Honestly, I understand,” they said. “Some people like the rush that being around an incubus gives them, and for others it feels… unnatural. I’ll be careful with my ‘influence’ around you.”

“Is that what happened earlier today?” you asked as you let them steer you towards the quieter end of the bar.

They shrugged. “I don’t normally have to be so active about controlling it. Normally I actively have to concentrate to turn it on, as it were, you know? To affect people I really have to try.”

“But not with me?”

“Apparently not,” they chuckled ruefully. “Now, please, for the love of all the gods, will you let me get you a drink?”

You nodded.

What began with one drink on your birthday turned into an hour spent at the bar talking with Ferren about everything, from how they began at dance school, and would have gone into the ballet if they hadn’t suffered with a suspensory ligament injury at sixteen, to how they lived in a small, traditional caravan on the edge of Starfall Springs and loved sour apple sweets almost more than anything.

Drinks that night turned into coffee the next morning - despite the late hour at which you’d returned home - and coffee the next morning turned into a long walk along the seafront, lunch, and then takeaway supper, eaten on a bench overlooking the cliffs just outside the small town.

“Ferren,” you sighed, setting your small container down on the ground beside the bench.

“Mmm?”

“How… How did this happen?”

“How did what happen?” they asked, “You mean ‘what geological forces created these cliffs?’ or ‘how does the tide go in and out?’ or —”

“— no,” you snorted and turned to face them. “How did I end up spending the entire day with you when it was only supposed to be coffee this morning? Is this that incubus charm of yours, or is it just… you?”

“It’s just me,” they said a little dazedly, staring into the depths of their own unfinished food box. “I promise I haven’t used even a scrap of my magic on you. I’ve been really careful.”

At that, you sat up and looked at them a little more closely. In the afternoon light, with the softly refracted light from the waves below casting a cool glow on their lilac face and dark red eyes, they looked like a sculpture or even a doll. Their skin was flawless, their lips full but without pout or pretence. They were just… themselves. Not a dancer, not even an incubus, just… Ferren. “You sound… You sound as if that’s not exactly common for you?”

They shrugged. “People expect us to be promiscuous. I’m used to one night stands and quick fumbles in out of the way corners. It’s been a long time since anyone’s just… listened to me like you have. I hope I haven’t bored you.”

“Bored me? Ferren, I’ve never had such a full day go by so quickly in my life! I still just thought that… maybe it wasn’t real somehow… that you’d just made me feel at ease around you…”

“So you’d fall into my arms and into my bed, you mean?” they asked with a bitterness that cut deep.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about your kind. I was wrong to assume…”

They shook their head and a few strands of their white hair wafted into their eyes. On a whim, you reached up and tucked them back behind the tapering line of their ear and they shuddered noticeably.

“Should I not have touched you again?” you asked, glancing at their tattoos which, mercifully, remained dull and dark.

“No,” they hissed, turning to face you fully. “Gods, no, I… I want your touch but… I don’t want to freak you out. I want it to be what you want…”

“Kiss me,” you breathed.

Their red eyes widened and their lips parted. “Are you sure?”

You were. They were beautiful and gentle and sweet, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss them. “Can you sense my energy?” you asked.

In return, you were met with a question of their own. “Are you asking me to use my magic on you?”

“If that means finding out how I feel, then yes.”

Raising their elegant, tattooed hand to your face, they traced the line of your eyebrow with the pad of their thumb, and then circled your temple. Their eyes glowed as if lit by the sunset from behind, and they opened their mouth, inhaling deeply. The light in their eyes flared bright and they gasped, letting go of you suddenly and smiling. Their hand hovered in the space between you like a butterfly caught in amber. That smile though, blinding as always, illuminated their whole face.

Their fingers then moved back and traced your jaw as they leaned in to kiss you, eyes locked on yours until you let them flutter shut against the rising tide of emotion inside you.

Ferren’s kiss began with breathtaking tenderness, but the moment you let slip a groan, it deepened and they let their tongue taste you. You were sure you tasted of the meal you’d just shared, but honestly, it didn’t matter. You reached for them and tugged them closer until they shifted and instead sat straddling you on the bench, their knees on the wood of the seat on either side of your thighs. Their hardness ground against you as they kissed you, and you gasped as they pushed you back against the bench.

The air shimmered around them like a dusty road in summer, and you stared in open wonder at them for a moment as they drew away and tipped their head back. Another shudder ran right through them and their tattoos began to glow again.

“Ferren?” you asked, cautiously trailing a fingertip over the white lines on their neck that had, only a moment before, been black.

“I haven’t felt like this since I was a teenager,” they panted. “Your energy is incredible. I feel… I feel drunk…”

“You need to stop?”

“We probably shouldn’t do this out here on a public bench,” they laughed, their voice breathless and rasping.

“Your place or mine?” you asked.

“Mine’s small,” they said, letting their head roll forward again to let them look at you, “But it’s up to you. You really want to do this?”

“Can’t you tell by now?” you smiled. If this was all ‘you’, it felt fantastic.

Their answer was a smirk, but they clambered off you, hooves clopping on the stone path beneath the bench, and you saw the obvious tent in their trousers. They raised their eyebrows at you and the smirk became a broad, amused grin. “What a state you've left me in, eh? How are you with teleportation?”

“Excuse me?” you asked, surprised by the conversational sidestep.

They held out their hand to you and that inky darkness began to swirl around them, beginning at their hand and working up their body.

“I have no idea,” you said taking the offered hand and standing. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at all,” they smiled as they pulled you close to their chest. “Ready?”

“I have no idea,” you said, “But I trust you.” And you did. Despite having only met them the previous day, you absolutely did trust them, which was rare for you.

The darkness billowed up around you and obliterated your vision, but when it cleared, you were standing in the centre of a small, cosy, colourful waggon, with an arching, painted wooden roof to create a cylindrical space. At one end was a bed that took up the width of the tiny waggon, and it was towards that that Ferren led you, still holding your hand. The whole thing felt extremely personal and intimate in a way you’d not been expecting. This was their home, their sanctuary, and they were sharing it with you.

They lay you down on your back and you rested on your elbows as they undressed you slowly, reverently, revealing your body inch by inch. “You’re stunning,” they whispered once you were completely naked. And, under the vehemence of that ruby red gaze, you actually believed that they meant it. They didn’t waste any time in divesting themselves either, and when they stood before you, you gasped. You’d seen most of them already on stage only recently, but somehow this felt entirely different here. This was just for you.

“I won’t feed on your energy unless you tell me to,” they assured you as they pressed kiss after kiss up your inner thigh until you were gasping and bucking beneath them, begging with your whole body for them to touch you where you truly needed it. “Look at what a mess you’re making of yourself,” they crooned when they finally deigned to turn their attention to your arousal. And it was true.

“Please…” you hissed, head thrown back into the pillow behind you while they still only teased. “Gods, please!”

At the feel of their mouth on you, you bucked, but they held you steady with surprisingly strong hands, and you were nearly tumbling over the edge into orgasm in moments.

“I want… I want you to…” You tried to speak but your mind kept being wiped repeatedly blank by the waves of pleasure that their wicked tongue and devilishly hot mouth sent rolling through you.

Pausing, they hummed their question against you and you yelped a broken cry at the vibration of it, fingers scrunching their sheets to a tangle beneath you.

“I want to feel what it’s like,” you managed, speaking more deliberately this time and trying to focus. It didn’t really work because they started circling their tongue while they stared questioningly up at you with those red eyes. “Oh gods… What it’s like when you… I want you to…”

They licked a long, teasing stripe and you arched again and swore. “You want me to feed on you?” they purred. “Truly? You’ll make me come just from that you know? You’ll make me spill untouched. I can already tell.”

“I want you to come on me,” you said, trailing your fingers up your stomach for emphasis and Ferren inhaled sharply, pupils blowing wide until their irises were little more than a slim halo of ruby, glowing like hot embers.

Without a word, they moved so that they could keep pleasuring you with one hand while lying beside you. They kissed at your neck, raking their twin set of double canines over your skin, slowing the pace until it was too slow for you to come just yet, but more intense than you’d ever experienced in your entire life. You felt like you were going to tear apart at the seams and burst with want. “Ready?” they whispered in your ear and you shivered inarticulately.

Their tattoos pulsed white, then faded, then flared bright again. They opened their mouth and you stared, amazed, as a coiling, shimmering mist began to float towards them from you. At the same time, your body ignited from within and you yelled with pleasure. White hot and searing, the sensations came from everywhere, not just where they touched you, and you convulsed as your orgasm tore through you with a blinding intensity.

You didn’t even notice that Ferren had shifted and was now lying atop you, cock in hand. They spilled over you a second later, forehead coming down to rest on your collarbone as they emptied themselves all over your stomach and halfway up your chest. That strange energy still twisted between you as they jerked and twitched, finally lying still atop you.

“Gods,” they hissed, a good few minutes later. “Gods, I’ve never ever come like that…”

You shifted and grunted softly beneath them, and they slithered off you to lie on the narrow sliver of bed beside you.

“You alight?” you heard them whisper.

“Are you?”

With a little chuckle, they said, “Ask me again in about ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” you asked, feigning coy disappointment.

They shot you a sidelong look and laughed. “Alight, five. Tops.”

___

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[minghellafine]

Full interview below.

The first thing Max Minghella does when he joins our Zoom call is ask me about the weather. It wasn't just a conversational cliché though, he really wanted to know what it was like where I was. I tell him I'm in New York City, where spring can surprise you with a day that's colder or warmer than it looks. This particular day was chilly. "I'm always cold," he interjects, "I'm reptilian. My body finds a way to keep me cool." He shivered as he spoke, sitting in his sunny backyard in Los Angeles wearing a T-shirt. I checked the temperature right after our call. It was 80 degrees in L.A.

Despite any discomfort, Minghella is just really happy to be at home. Unlike the millions of people who spent 2020 in quarantine, he was working on season four of The Handmaid's Tale throughout the spring and summer."I'm sort of jealous of people who have this moment to pause and reflect," he says soberly. "Even with all of the trauma it's caused and all the things that obviously were detrimental, I know a lot of people who've had big life changes in the past year."

He acknowledged, however, that creating something in a time when everyone wished they could escape was ultimately a lucky thing. "There was a ubiquitous sense of gratitude," he adds.

Outside of the global pandemic, the dynamics on set had shifted — this season, his co-star Elisabeth Moss (or "Lizzie" as he affectionately calls her), was a director. "She was amazing on set," he explained. "Just very in control and it ran super smoothly. When I saw the episodes she directed, it just kind of blew me away. Her style — it's very cinematic and it really underlines the sci-fi elements of the show. It has a real kind of scope and confidence to it. I think she's a real filmmaker."

RELATED: Marvel's New Face Danny Ramirez Has the Range

Minghella's character Nick has an interesting arc this season too –  he's realizing his role as a senior member of the Gilead ruling class, but also still in love with June [Moss]. It's a complex character that challenges you as an audience member. He is the brooding love interest, and while you may root for him and June to be together, you also have to see him for what he is: an architect of a world that kidnaps women and uses them for childbearing.

What made the previous three seasons of the show even harder for viewers to digest was the fact that people so badly wanted to believe there could be a good guy defector — maybe even Nick — in a room full of bad guys. During those years, many people felt that the dystopian elements of the show were reflective of the nationalist agenda being put forth in the United States by the Trump Administration. So much so that a group of protesters famously wore Handmaid costumes to protest anti-abortion bills and Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh's confirmation hearings. Without saying much about the parallels in the show — other than chalking them up to "pure coincidence," Minghella felt the Handmaid's Tale, whose protagonists are anti-Gilead, are "on the right side of history."  He added diplomatically, "Ultimately, I'm most proud because I think it's really great fiction."

I get the sense that the pursuit of "great fiction" is something that consumes Minghella. He's someone who appreciates art (he got his big break in 2006's Art School Confidential), and his parents are Anthony Minghella, the late award-winning director of The Talented Mr. Ripley, and actress Carolyn Choa. He loves details (see our earlier weather conversation). Even the way he talks about Los Angeles has a story-like quality. He tells me about how he knew when the city became his home after a feeling he got driving past the Silver Lake 7-Eleven. As he told it, I pictured it like a scene in an indie movie starring Zach Braff.

"I had this sort of pathological obsession with movies from birth. [My mother] worked for the British equivalent of the Motion Picture Association, so she would watch three films a day. By three or four years old, I was just kind of an obsessed movie person." It's his favorite movie, Beverly Hills Cop ("I think I saw 100 times by the time I was eight years old," he says) that inspired another big role he was working on during quarantine: Minghella stars as a detective opposite Chris Rock in the Saw franchise spin-off Spiral: From the Book of Saw.

"The movie was so serendipitous for me. I feel like I almost manifested it in my life," Minghella muses. "There's a line very early in the movie where we're investigating these crime scenes and we come to a grizzly one. My character looks nauseous. Chris's [character] says to me, 'Are you okay?' And my character says, 'Yeah. I mean I'd been dreaming about this since I was 12-years-old.' And that was a very kind of weird line because it's just true."

Now at 35 years old, Minghella is feeling settled. He is still a "film nerd" that gets giddy with each new opportunity, but he's less anxious about the results. Next thing on his list? Vacation.

"I'm hoping in May once the movie comes out I can run away somewhere."

Read on for his cheesy would-be campaign slogan, his fast-food weakness, and the time he escaped a tornado while working on a film with Blake Lively.

Who is your celebrity crush?

Mary Tyler Moore.

What's the last thing you do before you fall asleep?

I listen to 1950s radio shows. Usually Dragnet. I was researching a project in that period briefly and got sort of into the radio culture of that time. And now I find it incredibly soothing.

Favorite villain?

Hans Gruber.

Describe a memorable dream.

I had a recurring nightmare as a child in which my grandmother turned into a cat. So Tom Hooper's Cats was very traumatizing to me.

First album you ever owned?

My mother bought me the Top Gun soundtrack on audio cassette.

If you were required to spend $1,000 today, what would you buy and why?

I would do anything to help a distressed dog.

If you ran for office, what would your slogan be?

Some kind of tacky pun using my first name. "Take it to the Max," or maybe "Max on, Max off."

Name one place you've never been but have always wanted to go.

Easy. Japan. I went when I was one, but I don't think that counts.

What's the most uncomfortable outfit you've ever worn?

I did a film called Art School Confidential and I had to wear a beret and I found every moment of it truly humiliating. I remember being completely traumatized by it.

Describe your first kiss.

My first kiss was at a bus stop. I was 14 and I lied and told the girl that it wasn't my first kiss, but I think it was probably immediately evident that it was.

What's one dish you're always tempted to order if you see it on a menu?

There are so many things. That's the sad answer. French fries is the truth.

Favorite on-set memory?

I did a movie called Elvis and Anabelle with Blake Lively like 100 years ago and we shot in Texas. There was a tornado one night that forced us to evacuate the set and we had to sort of drive off in a hurry. I put on this song by The Knife called "Pass This On" in the car which is very dramatic and cinematic. The tornado was sort of in pursuit of the vehicle while we were speeding away. And it was just far enough that it wasn't life-threatening, but also a radical visual. That's one of my favorite life memories.

The Handmaid's Tale season 4 premieres on Hulu April 28, and Spiral: From the Book of Saw hits theaters on May 11.

Photographs by Emily Malan. Grooming by Sonia Lee for Exclusive Artists using La Mer. Polaroid Photos by Max Minghella. Special thanks to Polaroid. Production by Kelly Chiello.

[tessiete]

hi ive read like all your stuff about korkie is a kenobi in the span of about three days and i'm so EMOTIONAL?? it makes such narrative sense - star wars is a story about fathers and sons and what happens when mothers are lost and in eternal spring, when obi wan doesn't reject korkie, and korkie doesn't reject obi wan, and they love each other and accept each other despite the gaping hole that satine left in their relationship it like heals and breaks that cycle of little blonde boys being 1/

of little blonde boys being left in the desert without their mothers and with father figures who don't quite accept the responsibility of being a father to all of their detriments! it lets padme live, and it lets luke escape, and it lets everyone who wants to heal and work towards a better future. anyway, this is some Good Fucking Food and thank u for writing it. if you're still open to prompts i would really like to see some kryze-kenobi family bonding. just the three of them happy and together 

AH! This has been sitting so beautifully, and lovingly in my inbox for ages now, and I do apologise, but I just - I saw fluff and I panicked. I PANICKED!!!

And, as you can probably see, wrote reams of whump and h/c instead. But I tried.

Anyway, there is so much I want to say about this - I’m going to have to bookmark this whole thing just so I can come back again and again to your generous words. Thank you! I do have such a fondness for Eternal Spring, and whether or not it began as a joke, I am SO attached to the idea of Korkie as a Kenobi, the idea that blood isn’t always bad, that healing can happen, that good people make mistakes, that forgiveness IS an option - and I love how that aligns with the Pacifism of Satine’s New Mandalorians. I wish we had more of it (that insistent, unrelenting kindness and compassion) in SW, and Korkie is my little effort at that.

RANTING ASIDE, I hope you find and enjoy this little bit of fluff for the Kenobi-Kryzes. MUCH LOVE.

AND BY THE HAND LED

It was not Life Day. It was not Holyrod week, and Belli’s birthday had been a full ten month ago. Yet still, on this day, Kirokicek Kryze woke with the sun, and raced to his window where he could see the Sundari dockyard in the distance. 

Personal shuttles buzzed to and fro. Docking tugs hauled heavy freighters into place. Long, thin vactrains hurtled passengers from one platform to the next, or further on into the heart of the city. A few large ferries which had found mooring overnight made their ponderous voyage upwards, headed for the small opening at the apex of the Sundari dome. They were bound for transports anchored in wet space, the people aboard away for deep space travel to distant stars. 

Korkie watched as one neared the aperture, then, with incredible steadiness of hand, cleared the narrow gap with ease. He let go his breath, but his eyes remained fixed upon the opening. He was not much concerned with the ships that left, but instead found great interest in those ferries which were currently arriving.

They took turns - one in, one out - and with every exchange, Korkie felt as though the city was making room for a very special guest. One who loomed larger than life in his young consciousness, and one who occupied more and more space in his heart the closer he came.

Bebu was coming home.

A knock at his door was not enough to tear his attention from the spectacle outside, but he shuffled over to make room for his mother beside him at the window.

“Good morning, cyar'ika,” she said, pressing a kiss to his hair. “And what has got you up so early?”

She still wore her nightclothes beneath a fine gown of pressed velvet. Korkie leaned back into her embrace, stroking the soft fabric, and letting the warm, sweet smell of sleep wash over him.

“I’m watching the dockyards,” he said. “Look! Do you think that one of them has Bebu on it?”

Satine let her chin rest on the crown of his head, and followed his gaze to the sky.

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “Are you excited for your Bebu to come home?”

Korkie turned, trying to get a glimpse of her expression which could only be as teasing as his own was incredulous. She smiled.

“Excited, Belli?” he asked. “I am so, so, superlatively excited!”

“My,” she said, her face transforming to one of awe. “That is quite a superlative word you have discovered. Is it new?”

Korkie nodded. “I am saving it for Bebu, for our collection. Do you think he shall like it?”

“I think he shall be quite impressed, dinui.”

“I have another, but I always say it wrong, so I think I shall write it down, instead.”

“That is very wise,” she said. “For then there is no chance of misunderstanding, and then your father can teach you to speak it correctly.”

Korkie grinned, and squeezed her hand, so glad to be in such perfect accord. 

“That was exactly my plan, Belli!”

“Te jatne mind jo'lekir ti ast,” she said, laughing. “Now come.”

“Are we going to the docks?”

“Not yet,” she said. “First meal first, I think, and then we shall see.”

She stood from her place behind Korkie, and smoothed her skirts. The early morning sun fell kindly over her face, so that it lit her eyes from behind, like the facet of some bright gem. She held out her hand to him.

“But Belli -!”

“Is that fussing I hear coming out of your mouth?” she asked, the perfect image of confusion.

“No,” he conceded, hanging his head in defeat.

“I thought not,” she said. “Not my Korkie. Besides, we must first ensure that we are properly fed, and tidied before we appear at the docks. We cannot have our tummies grumbling and complaining while we are at the height of a superlative joy, now can we?”

“That would be rather distracting,” he allowed.

“And what would your father think if you showed up all bleary eyed, and sleep tousled? He’d hardly recognise you!”

“That’s not true,” protested Korkie. “He’d think me a ‘devoted legislator’. He said so last time.”

Satine cocked her head, a smirk curling in the corner of her mouth, and pinned just there, until such a time as she could give it to the owner of those borrowed words. 

“Well, cyare, I cannot think he meant it as a compliment,” she said, wiggling her fingers temptingly. “Now come - to firsts.

In the kitchens, his mother suggested they arrange a menu, scrounged from the conservator and pantry, while the staff set about preparing for the rest of their day.

“No need to bother anyone too much when it’s just us, right?” She placed a stool in front of an out of the way countertop, and held his hand while Korkie made a great leap to stand atop it. “Now, what are we hungry for?”

“Isbeans, and egg!” he cried. “With fresh muja juice!”

“Muja juice!” she echoed in surprise. “My, but we’re feeling quite indulgent today!”

“Well, it is a special occasion!” he said.

“Of course, you’re right. Muja juice it is. Anything else, ad’ika?”

He thought for a moment, but knowing how easily she had acceded to his first request, he concluded it most reasonable to forward several more.

“Perhaps some toast,” he said. “And flatcakes. And melon squares with black fire jelly? And then some moof milk and summerberries because they’ll go bad if we don’t eat them. With sucre crystals on the top. And maybe - only because Bebu says it’s healthy - a cup of kava. But just one, or I’ll be up all night.”

She crouched down to meet him, mischief sparkling in her eyes and not a word of protest at his requests. Instead, her tone was conspiratorial, as though they were together in some great game of hide and hunt. 

“Let’s brew a whole pot,” she said. “So that we may share it.”

He laughed in delight. Satine pulled down a tin of weava flour, and let him sprinkle the surface while she portioned out another measure into a shallow bowl for flatcakes. Under her careful eye, he cracked a tip-yip egg, and tipped in some sucre. She worked the mixture into a sticky dough, and portioned out small spheres for Korkie to press out upon the counter. Cook A’den looked on skeptically, but when his stack of raw discs began to pile up, she stepped in with a sigh, and a fond smile and lifted him on her hip while she fried them over a nano-cooker. 

As he worked, Satine gathered the berries and the milk, and a little pot of sucre. Helping hands piled plates high with toast, and ulik butter. Isbeans and hard boiled eggs followed, kept warm beneath heated domes. A whole pitcher of ice cold muja juice was produced from the conservator, and a fresh pot of kava was left to steep with wide, green leaves still in it. There was so much food that, in the end, a small cart was required to bear the fruits of their labours, while Korkie added the final touch of perfectly browned flatcakes.

Normally, they would eat their firsts in the family dining hall, but Satine insisted that she could not possibly do so while still dressed in her nightclothes.

“And scandalise the whole parliament? I think not, my very shocking dinui. No, it’s best we take everything back to my rooms, and eat there where no one will think us as uncivilised as we appear.”

So with many thanks to A’den, and her workers, Korkie followed his mother down the glistening marbloid halls with their wide windows. The sun was nearly all the way up, and the traffic in the sky had only increased since Korkie last looked. He was hit with the sudden realisation that perhaps many ferries had come and gone in his absence, and any one of them might contain his father. He raced to the window to check.

“Come along, Korkie,” said Satine. “Soon. I promise.”

Torn between food and the possibility that his father was waiting for him even now, Korkie gave into the demands of his hunger, and followed his mother down the hall.

They stopped outside her door, the cart pushed just off to the side. Satine looked at him appraisingly, smoothing one hand over his determinedly erstwhile hair.

“Oh dear,” she said, straightening his synfleece robe, as he reached for the cart to steal a summerberry from the pile. “You do look a sight. But I suppose it cannot be helped.”

She gave him a fond caress, her thumb tracing the swell of his little cheek with such reverence, and care that Korkie nearly felt guilty for snatching the fruit. But she smiled as he swallowed, and he supposed it must just have been one of those strange things buirs did from time to time, where they mixed up joy and sorrow and said nothing about it.

“I shall comb my hair later, Belli,” he offered. That seemed to do the trick, for she laughed, and stood, and gave his hand a brief squeeze.

“I will remember you said that,” she said. “Now, be a good boy and get the door for your Belli, would you?”

She returned to the cart, as he wiped his hands down the length of his robe, and reached for the palmpad. The door chimed, and slid aside with the barest sigh of air. Inside, Korkie could see that the curtains had been pulled back, and the room was flooded blue and gold with the oncoming day. Playful shadows danced across the floor where hanging tassels toyed with the sun. The carpet glistened like thick grass, lush and crowned in dew. A small table with three chairs sat to one side, and an old cloak lay thrown across it. There were boots, too large for his mother to wear, a belt too wide to be hers, and there, in the bed, swaddled in silkweed sheets and haloed by the sun, was Obi-Wan Kenobi, hovering on the edge of waking.

“Bebu!” Korkie shouted.

At his cry, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and smiled, catching his son as raced across the floor and leapt upon the bed in a single motion. 

“Ah, ner wer'ika! Ni mirdir tion'tuur gar ru'kel olaror. Bic cuyir ori'udes tion'tuur gar cuyir dar.”

“Bebu!” Korkie cried again, laughing and wriggling with joy. His father lifted him over his head, holding him aloft as he made his cursory examination.

“Korkicek!” he groaned, as his strength gave out and Korkie tumbled atop his father’s chest in a tangle of limbs and blankets. “You must be very much grown since I last saw you, for you are getting too heavy for me!”

“No, I’m not, Bebu,” he said. “I’ve only grown two centimeteres since you were gone, and Belli says that’s only because I’m on a spurt.”

“Only two centimeters?” Obi-Wan demands. “Dear me, that’s not very much at all. I shall expect more diligence in your efforts at stretching if we are to make any serious headway in this matter.”

Korkie giggled. “Don’t be silly, Bebu,” he said. “I cannot stretch myself bigger. It takes time.”

“And heavy reading,” Obi-Wan agreed gravely.

“And good eating,” Satine added from behind them. She’d set the table in their distraction. Obi-Wan’s cloak now hung respectably from a hook by the fresher blind, and three plates sat waiting to be filled. The isbeans steamed, their skin crackling and blackened. The flatcakes dripped with galek syrup and butter. The summerberries shone plump and delectable in their precarious pyramid. The black fire jellies jiggled, and the muja juice sparkled.

“Is that fresh kava I smell?” asked Obi-Wan. 

“It is!” said Korkie. “And all sorts of things which Belli and I made! I suppose it’s a lucky thing we made so much extra, for now you can share it with us.”

“A lucky thing, indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed. He looked at Satine with such adoration that the smirk she had pinned up earlier unfurled completely and crossed her face in a radiant smile. 

“Come, Bebu,” said Korkie, taking his father’s hand in his. “Enough lazing about in bed. Let’s eat, or the kava will get cold.”

“Quite right,” Obi-Wan agreed, standing as Korkie slid to his feet beside him, and tugged him over to where Satine was waiting. “We can’t have that.”

“And you may have my cup as well,” added Korkie, magnanimously, “As it is truly a rotten drink, even if you say it is healthy. But since it is such a special day, I don’t think I should be forced to have it, anyway.”

“He drives a hard bargain, your son,” said Obi-Wan, leaning in to beg a small kiss.

“Ah, but of course,” said Satine, quick to grant his request. “He gets that from you, cyare.”

--

“Ah, ner wer'ika! Ni mirdir tion'tuur gar ru'kel olaror. Bic cuyir ori'udes tion'tuur gar cuyir dar.” - Ah, my little terror! I was wondering when you might show up. It has been far too quiet without you.

“Te jatne mind jo'lekir ti ast” - The best mind agrees with itself. (read: Great minds think alike.)

ad’ika, dinui, cyare - little one, gift, beloved.

[talesofafangirlwithadvr]

Jan/Feb 2021 Picks

HELLO! It’s been a while, but I’M BACK!! Life has gotten a lot busier as I started Grad School this January. So, I feel it may be tough being on time with future Monthly Wraps like I’ve done in the past with working on my MFA, and my job. I’m going to probably do more seasonal wrap ups when I get the time. I also think I’ll be posting more individual posts as I watch an episode. Because even with a busier schedule, there is always time for TV and there’s so much I want to talk about!

You know the drill. Spoilers are coming.....

You’ve been warned :)

WANDAVISION

I want to start off by mentioning that I have not watched this week’s episode yet. So the last one I saw was EPISODE  6 with Halloween in the late 90s/early 2000s.

THIS SHOW! OMG.

I didn’t know what I was signing up for when I watched the first episode and I have been blown away. It is such a cool concept and I love the fact that everyone who watches it is confused. There have been so many interesting theories out there and I am so curious what is going to wind up being true. I love all the nods to old sitcoms and TV shows as well as all the MCU Easter Eggs. (I mean they got X-men’s Quicksilver-like WOW.) It feels really Black Mirror at times with the breaking of the fourth wall. I will never be able to shake the feeling I got in Episode 3, when Vision reversed. (And then I saw a bunch of videos with him looking at the camera as Wanda looks at the TV. Eww I don’t like it, but it’s such a good move on their point.) I love the outside plot as well and the characters who were previously side characters in other MARVEL movies. The love for Jimmy Woo is astounding and I’m here for it. I’m glad it’s Friday, so I can watch the next episode. I’m just upset that we’re so close to the show ending. The next Disney Plus Marvel shows better be just as good. Wandavision set the bar high.  

NANCY DREW

If you’ve visited this page recently, you know I have a very strong love for this show. It is the only one I am still watching religiously on the CW and I am tuning in the night it airs. (That is HUGE for me.) IT IS JUST SO GOOD AND I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO START....

2x05 just aired, which would have been the season 1 finale before COVID and I have it saved on my DVR to watch again. There’s just so much I want to relive and catch that I missed the first watch through. It would have been SUCH A GOOD FINALE, but I’m happy that we can continue with new episodes starting next week. And with the way it ended...there’s so much I need to know!! I’m just curious how fast they’re going to develop certain plots. I love the Drew Crew and how they are a family. Each character is so well developed and their chemistry is great. I love learning more about each of them and watching them develop. My favorite character is definitely Ace. I love all his witty lines and how he is opening up more to the group as well as to us, the audience, as we get more of a look into his personal life. I enjoy all of his scenes with his dad and specifically liked when they were celebrating Shabbat. (I am also here for the Nancy and Ace content. I gush more about this on my other blog: lydia-whogowith-stiles. Check it out if you want to hear more.)

THE WATCH

When I watched the Christmas special (or was it New Years? and why does that feel so long ago) of Doctor Who, BBC America kept advertising a new show called the Watch. Due to the extensive amount of commercials, I decided to tape the first two episodes (which premiered back to back) to see what it was all about. I was unaware that this series is based on the book series created by Terry Pratchett. When I came to see if people were talking about it on Tumblr, I saw that a lot of people didn’t like it because of how drastically different it was. As I was unfamiliar with the original, I can’t compare. The TV show was eight episodes and I just watched the last one that aired this past Sunday. I definitely liked the first half of the season more (I noticed my mind start to drift as I watched later ones), but thought the finale was good. I really enjoyed how they incorporated the theme song. I didn’t realize the connection earlier and now can’t stop humming it. (I don’t know if there will be another season or not.) I enjoyed the characters and how it was like nothing I’ve seen on TV before. It got me thinking a lot about blending genres. I would still recommend checking it out.  

ZOEY’S EXTRORDINARY PLAYLIST

I was VERY excited for this show to come back. I loved the first season so much. It’s just such a heartfelt show and it helped me survive the early parts of quarantine. So far, this season I am noticing how detailed the musical performances are. Mandy Moore is doing an AMAZING job. The choreography is *chefs kiss* I also feel like the song choices have been great and not always the ones I think that would be picked. We are getting to learn more about each character and watch Zoey and her family as they continue life after losing Mitch. I am here for Mo and Max’s restaurant. I think the concept would be so cool in real life. Who knows maybe we’ll see one now. (Max’s rendition of ‘Numb’ was amazing. I’ve never heard the song like that and I think it might be one of my favorites of the season so far.) I hope Max and Zoey get back together by the end of the season. It did feel fast, so I do understand why they had to break up, but it still makes me sad that we watched them get together and then it was taken away from us. The last episode before the break was so powerful and I think the show did an amazing job applying real world issues into their plot. It did not feel forced at all and brought so much awareness. Upset we have to wait so long for a new episode. 

SECRETS OF SULPHUR SPRINGS

Are you looking for a good mystery, but don’t think Disney Channel can provide it? Think again. I have to say, when I started watching I was not expecting this show to be a part of my monthly picks. It pleasantly surprised me. The show involves the mystery of a young girl, Savannah, who went mysteriously missing at camp back in the 90s. Apparently, her ghost still haunts the hotel that was on the camp grounds to this day. Then Griffin and his family buy the hotel with intent of fixing it up and reopening it after all these years. The people in the town think they’re crazy because of its past. But there’s something more going on with Griffin’s dad as well as some of the other adults in the town. They know something about Savannah’s disappearance, but aren’t saying anything about it. While this is a kid’s show (and only half hour episodes) it has been interesting to see where the story will go. I’m sure I am imagining much more intense things for her disappearance than what actually happened. It’s also not super cheesy or have bad acting, which is refreshing. (I really feel Disney Channel has gone down.) Either way, I don’t know how many episodes are left to air, but I think we’re pretty close to the end. If you’re looking for a quick, entertaining mystery I would highly recommend.  

MISS SCARLET AND THE DUKE

And here come my period pieces (ironically both from Masterpiece/PBS this time). I know last year I felt like I watched a lot of historical watches at the beginning of the year. We’ll see if that continues to happen this year too. It does serve as a nice escape. Plus, these are some really good stories. 

Miss Scarlet and the Duke is a part of Masterpiece Mystery on PBS, although it aired on a different network in the UK. It is (another) mystery series (shocking I know with that title!) It follows Eliza Scarlet who has a nose for mystery, but as a woman living in the Victorian era does not have any rights except for being a wife and mother (two things she would rather not be). When her father dies (apparently from a heart attack...emphasis on apparently), she takes over his Private Investigator business. Much to the dismay of long time family friend William “The Duke” who is a Detective Inspector for Scotland Yard. Eliza is often in his office as she gets arrested for being places she shouldn’t or trying to get information out of him. This element of Eliza having to work in a very male dominated Victorian society is one that I feel I haven’t really seen on a TV show. I really like her dynamic with William. There’s always that feeling of “will they won’t they,” but I don’t feel the show just focuses on that. The mystery is the heart of it all. This last week’s episode was REALLY GOOD. As we got to find out more regarding her father’s death. I hear a lot of people want a season 2 and I am right there with them. This show deserves it. 

ALL CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL

Another PBS Masterpiece watch. I love this show, so much more than I was anticipating. It is so heartfelt and makes me so happy and in a good mood after watching it. It follows James Herriot who has recently graduated from veterinary school, but is struggling finding a job. Then he gets a call from Siegfried Farnon’s veterinary practice in Yorkshire. Siegfried is known for having a harsh demeanor and temper, so the assistants he hires don’t often last long. Spoiler alert, that should be pretty obvious, James does. The cast of characters are so lovely and I like all their relationships with one another. The show takes places in the 1930s and I realized I don’t often watch things in this era, so that has been fun to explore. The sets and locations are BEAUTIFUL. In the episodes, we often get these amazing shots that sweep over the exterior and I want to travel to Yorkshire like tomorrow. (See more escapism, it’s great.) The main plot follows everyone interact in the town and watching James become a more confident and experienced veterinarian (which I decided I could never do after watching). I heard that it has been renewed for a second season so that is so fantastic. 

FATE: THE WINX SAGA

The first things I heard about this show was how disappointed everyone was in how they decided to adapt the Winx Club show from their childhood. On this I can agree, but I decided to watch the show anyway. I pretended that it was something new entirely and I have to say I enjoyed it. Of course, there were parts that bothered me and then I had to remember it was a teen show, so angst would be annoying. I think overall it was too short (and should have at least 8 or 10 episodes), but I’m happy that they were able to conclude the main plot well. (Although we did get that cliffhanger, but it is exciting that it was released the show just got renewed for a second season the other day.) I really liked Silva-mainly because it was great seeing Thomas from Downton Abbey in something else. I also enjoyed seeing Jacob Duchman in more things. It was a surprise to see him in Medici and I am just happy he is adding more to his IMDB. 

Quick and addicting watch. Add it to your queue. Just forget it’s supposed to be based on something else. 

BLOWN AWAY SEASON 2

Continuing with the Netflix picks, one of my FAVORITE picks from 2020 got a season 2 and it is already on Netflix! That’s right Blown Away season 2 is now available. I seriously loved the first season of this show SO MUCH! Glass blowing is such a magical process and I am mesmerized every time I watch it. It felt weird starting this show with all new contestants, but then Alex came back as a guest judge and I was so happy. It is just as addicting and I cannot wait to see who wins this season. I am just trying not to rush the episodes. 

VIOLETTA SEASON 3 UPDATE

I know you were all dying to know...

After taking a hiatus from watching during the holidays, I have gotten back into watching the Disney Channel telenovela on Disney Plus. I am now on episode 68. Things are really starting to happen and I am finding myself getting sucked in again, which makes me happy. Episode 60 (pictured above) had A LOT happen and really was a turning point for the second half of the show. Can’t wait to keep watching. Some really awesome songs from these last set of episodes. 

AND NOW FOR MY NOT LOVING IT PICK:

LEGACIES

This third season has really disappointed me so far. As I’ve previously discussed on this page, it feels like they are just reusing previous plots from the last two seasons when there is so much more they can do. There was so much promise for this show and I loved the Vampire Diaries and Originals so much, that it’s sad to see Legacies miss the mark. I wish they gave Hope more storylines that didn’t revolve around Landon. She is such a strong character and is SO POWERFUL. This is something we rarely see and it shouldn’t only be shown to save a guy (multiple times). Their couple plot is continually doing the same thing. I want to see a lot more development with this show over this season to keep me watching. I am actually happy that there isn’t a new episode until March 11th. (That’s saying something...) 

[gardenwerks]

Here is Crocosmia x ‘Adriana’ in bloom the 2nd growing season after planting from a 2 quart pot. My apologies for the slight fuzziness of the middle photo, but I wanted to show you the overall plant, which is about 2 1/2′ tall and arching out from a 1 1/2′ wide clump. 

Hummingbirds love Crocosmias, and they all bring cheer to my heart. They are “happy” plants! I like the strappy foliage that turns tawny in winter, easy to cut down in the early spring. Sometimes the dried flowering stems are very attractive and useful for arrangements.

There are a lot of different, but very similar, orange Crocosmias in our garden, and I will post some pix separately. However, I do actually know the cultivar name of ‘Adriana’, and she is quite different from the others. A lighter shade of orange that really glows in the garden, and those wonderful stripes down the middle of each petal. 

‘Adriana’ looks awesome with it’s companion Lavender intermedia Phenomenal and Superb, Variegated Purple Moor Grass, and the magenta pink Sunset rockrose (Cistus x pulverulentus). The Crocosmia foliage you see behind Adriana in the middle photo is ‘Helen MacKenzie’ - which is a later bloomer. Will feature that in the future.

This plant has been in bloom since first week of July, and is still going strong 5 weeks later. The Lily Garden says it is the longest-blooming crocosmia in their gardens.

[papermoonloveslucy]

MY THREE SONS at 60!

September 29, 1960

“My Three Sons” was a situation comedy produced at Desilu Studios. It premiered on ABC TV on September 29, 1960 and finished its first run on April 13, 1972, with 380 episodes making it the second-longest running live-action sitcom in TV history after “The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriett” (1952-66). 

Seasons 1 through 5 were aired in black and white on CBS.  In 1965 it moved to CBS when ABC declined to underwrite the costs of airing in color.  The series was initially filmed at Desilu Studios in Hollywood, but at the start of the 1967–68 season, the cast and crew began filming the series at the CBS Studio Center in Studio City, California due to Lucille Ball’s sale of Desilu to Gulf + Western, which owned Paramount Pictures. The sale also affected the filming location of another family sitcom, “Family Affair.”

Incredibly, “My Three Sons” ran concurrently through both “The Lucy Show” and “Here’s Lucy.” Both Steve Douglas and Lucy Carmichael (and later Carter), where single parents raising children. 

September 16, 1965 was a big night for CBS airing the very first episode of “My Three Sons” after moving from ABC titled “The First Marriage”. It was also the first episode of the series broadcast in color, something “The Lucy Show” did three days earlier with “Lucy at Marineland” (TLS S4;E1). The premise of the series is a widowed father (Steven Douglas) raising his three boys with help of his extended family.  Initially, the three sons were Chip, Robbie, and Mike, but in 1967 Mike was written out and replaced by Ernie, whom Steve adopted.  The extended family at first consisted of Bub, Steve’s father-in-law and the boys’ maternal grandfather, but in 1964, that character was replaced by Uncle Charley, Steve’s uncle and Bub’s brother. 

The leading role was played by film star Fred MacMurray, who the series was built around - including his hectic schedule. To suit MacMurray, scenes would be shot out of sequence and even alone on a soundstage and later edited to create a complete episode.  This was not MacMurray’s first time at Desilu. In 1958 he played himself on the “Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” in “Lucy Hunts Uranium” set in the Nevada desert outside Las Vegas. He was joined by his second wife, actress June Haver. MacMurray (1908-91) appeared in over 100 films in his career but is perhaps best remembered for the film Double Indemnity (1944), which Lucy references in this episode. MacMurray’s name was first mentioned by Ethel in 1953 in “The Black Eye” (ILL S2;E20) when flowers arrive for Lucy mistakenly signed “Eternally yours, Fred.”

Although Lucille Ball was their landlord (and ultimate boss) she never acted on the show, but many of the actors who appeared on Lucille Ball’s sitcoms did appear on “My Three Sons”.

From 1960 to 1965, MacMurray was joined by William Frawley as Bub O’Casey, the family’s live-in maternal grandfather. Of course, Frawley came to fame on “I Love Lucy” as the crusty landlord Fred Mertz. Frawley had worked with MacMurray in the 1935 film, Car 99. When Frawley had to leave  the show due to ill-health (and it was too costly to insure him) he was replaced by another Desilu alumni, William Demarest, as Uncle Charley. Like his previous co-star, Vivian Vance, Frawley was not especially fond of Demarest personally or as an actor. Demarest had, however, done three films with Lucille Ball. Frawley kept watching “My Three Sons” on his TV set bitterly. He never really got over being replaced by Demarest. On March 3, 1966, Frawley died of a heart attack.

For Christmas 1959, Frawley and Demarest both appeared with Lucy and Desi in “The Desilu Revue” (above with “December Bride’s” Spring Byington). At the time, Demarest was working on the Desilu lot appearing in NBC’s “Love and Marriage.”

On “My Three Sons” two of  Steve Douglas’ boys had been seen on “The Lucy Show”: Don Grady (Robbie Douglas) had played Chris Carmichael’s friend Bill and Barry Livingston (Ernie Douglas) had played Mr. Mooney’s son Arnold. Ted Eccles, who assumed the role of Arnold Mooney when Barry Livingston was busy on “My Three Sons,” also did an episode. 

The children of “The Lucy Show,” Ralph Hart (who played Viv Bagley’s son Sherman), Jimmy Garrett (Jerry Carmichael), and Candy Moore (Lucy Carmichael’s daughter Chris) were also on episodes of "My Three Sons.”

Other “Lucy” performers who were on “My Three Sons” include: 

Mary Wickes ~ Jeri Schronk (1964)

Doris Singleton ~ Helen & Margaret, 8 episodes (1964-70)

Shirley Mitchell ~ Sally, 2 episodes (1968) 

Barbara Pepper ~ Mrs. Brand (1966)

Verna Felton ~ Mub (1962)

Kathleen Freeman ~ Lady Checker (1967)

Jerry Hausner ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1964 & 1966) 

Reta Shaw ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1962 & 1965) 

Elvia Allman ~ Maude Prosser (1967) 

Eleanor Audley ~ Mrs. Vincent, 9 episodes (1969-70)

Burt Mustin ~ Various Characters, 5 episodes (1962-70)

Olan Soule ~ Various Characters, 5 episodes (1963-70)

Alberto Morin ~ Professor Madoro (1967)

Herb Vigran ~ Caretaker (1967)

Maurice Marsac ~ Various Characters, 3 episodes (1964-72)

Tim Mathewson ~ Various Characters, 3 episodes (1962-63)

Bill Quinn ~ Doctors, 4 episodes (1964-66)

Barbara Perry ~ Mrs. Thompson & Mrs. Hoover, 3 episodes (1964-72)

Nancy Kulp ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1962)

George N. Neise ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1960 & 1967)

Maxine Semon ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1964 & 1967) 

Roy Roberts ~Various Characters, 2 episodes (1965 & 1967) 

Lou Krugman ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1966 & 1967)

Richard Reeves ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1962 & 1965)

Dorothy Konrad ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1961 & 1962)

Ed Begley ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1962 & 1968)

Gail Bonney ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1965 & 1970)

Rolfe Sedan ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1968 & 1971) 

Tyler McVey ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1962 & 1967)

J. Pat O’Malley ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1963 & 1964)

Paul Picerni ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1965 & 1967)

Sandra Gould ~ Various Characters, 2 episodes (1963 & 1964)

Richard Deacon ~ Elderly Man (1960) 

Mabel Albertson ~ Mrs. Proctor (1964) 

Joan Blondell ~ Harriet Blanchard (1965) 

Leon Belasco ~ Professor Lombardi (1966) 

Dayton Lummis ~ Dr. Blackwood (1963) 

Lurene Tuttle ~ Natalie Corcoran (1968)

Robert Foulk ~ Pop Action (1962) 

Dick Patterson ~ Bunny Baxter (1963)

Jamie Farr ~ Itchy (1964)

Larry J. Blake ~ Policeman (1968) 

Amzie Strickland ~ Cora Dennis (1968) 

Barbara Morrison ~ Mrs. Murdock (1969) 

Louis Nicoletti ~ Caddy Master (1962)

Frank Gerstle ~ Policeman (1964)

Gil Perkins ~ Painter (1963) 

Tommy Ferrell ~ Mr. Griffith (1964) 

Eve McVeagh ~ Clara (1966)

Remo Pisani ~ Pepe (1970) 

Dub Taylor ~ Judge (1963)

Frank J. Scannell ~ Emcee (1968) 

Ray Kellogg ~ Henshaw (1965) 

Romo Vincent ~ Charley (1964) 

Stafford Repp ~ Sergeant Perkins (1969)

Jay Novello ~ Vincenzo (1966) 

Leoda Richards ~ Restaurant Patron (1966)

CHILD STARS!

Other child stars who appeared on “My Three Sons” included Butch Patrick (“The Munsters”), Jay North (“Dennis the Menace”), Oscar-winner Jodie Foster, Angela Cartwright (“Make Room for Daddy”), Flip Mark (”Lassie”), John Walmsley (”The Waltons”), Tony Dow (“Leave It To Beaver”), Erin Moran (“Happy Days”), Maureen McCormick (”The Brady Bunch”), Ann Jillian (Gypsy), and Heather Menzies (The Sound of Music). 

On November 22, 1977, ABC TV (and Dick Clark Productions) brought together a reunion of two of television's favorite sitcoms "The Partridge Family" and "My Three Sons." Hosted by Shirley Jones and Fred MacMurray this would be the only time that the surviving cast members would get together to celebrate the series which included clips, a song from David Cassidy, and an update of what each cast member was doing in 1977.

Also in 1977, some of the stars of the series reunited on a morning program titled "The Early Show", including Stanley Livingston (Chip Douglas), Barry Livingston (Ernie Douglas), Tina Cole (Katie Miller Douglas), and Don Grady (Robbie Douglas).  

TRIVIA

In “Lucy Helps Danny Thomas” (TLS S4;E7) in 1965, there is a large framed photo of Fred MacMurray in the studio hallway.  He is joined by other Desilu stars like Jim Nabors (of “Gomer Pyle USMC”), Andy Griffith (of “The Andy Griffith Show”) and Danny Thomas (of “The Danny Thomas Show”). 

[themousefromfantasyland]

"The Wild Swans" by Hans Christian Andersen

Just sharing one of my favorite fairy tales

FAR away in the land to which the swallows fly when it is winter, dwelt a king who had eleven sons, and one daughter, named Eliza. 

The eleven brothers were princes, and each went to school with a star on his breast, and a sword by his side. They wrote with diamond pencils on gold slates, and learnt their lessons so quickly and read so easily that every one might know they were princes. Their sister Eliza sat on a little stool of plate-glass, and had a book full of pictures, which had cost as much as half a kingdom.

Oh, these children were indeed happy, but it was not to remain so always.

Their father, who was king of the country, married a very wicked queen, who did not love the poor children at all. They knew this from the very first day after the wedding

In the palace there were great festivities, and the children played at receiving company; but instead of having, as usual, all the cakes and apples that were left, she gave them some sand in a tea-cup, and told them to pretend it was cake.

The week after, she sent little Eliza into the country to a peasant and his wife, and then she told the king so many untrue things about the young princes, that he gave himself no more trouble respecting them.

"Go out into the world and get your own living," said the queen. "Fly like great birds, who have no voice." But she could not make them ugly as she wished, for they were turned into eleven beautiful wild swans.

Then, with a strange cry, they flew through the windows of the palace, over the park, to the forest beyond. It was early morning when they passed the peasant's cottage, where their sister Eliza lay asleep in her room.

They hovered over the roof, twisted their long necks and flapped their wings, but no one heard them or saw them, so they were at last obliged to fly away, high up in the clouds; and over the wide world they flew till they came to a thick, dark wood, which stretched far away to the seashore.

Poor little Eliza was alone in her room playing with a green leaf, for she had no other playthings, and she pierced a hole through the leaf, and looked through it at the sun, and it was as if she saw her brothers' clear eyes, and when the warm sun shone on her cheeks, she thought of all the kisses they had given her.

One day passed just like another; sometimes the winds rustled through the leaves of the rose-bush, and would whisper to the roses, "Who can be more beautiful than you!" But the roses would shake their heads, and say, "Eliza is." And when the old woman sat at the cottage door on Sunday, and read her hymn-book, the wind would flutter the leaves, and say to the book, "Who can be more pious than you?" and then the hymn-book would answer "Eliza." And the roses and the hymn-book told the real truth.

At fifteen she returned home, but when the queen saw how beautiful she was, she became full of spite and hatred towards her. Willingly would she have turned her into a swan, like her brothers, but she did not dare to do so yet, because the king wished to see his daughter. 

Early one morning the queen went into the bath-room; it was built of marble, and had soft cushions, trimmed with the most beautiful tapestry.

She took three toads with her, and kissed them, and said to one, "When Eliza comes to the bath, seat yourself upon her head, that she may become as stupid as you are." Then she said to another, "Place yourself on her forehead, that she may become as ugly as you are, and that her father may not know her." "Rest on her heart," she whispered to the third, "then she will have evil inclinations, and suffer in consequence." So she put the toads into the clear water, and they turned green immediately.

She next called Eliza, and helped her to undress and get into the bath. As Eliza dipped her head under the water, one of the toads sat on her hair, a second on her forehead, and a third on her breast, but she did not seem to notice them, and when she rose out of the water, there were three red poppies floating upon it. Had not the creatures been venomous or been kissed by the witch, they would have been changed into red roses.

At all events they became flowers, because they had rested on Eliza's head, and on her heart. She was too good and too innocent for witchcraft to have any power over her. 

When the wicked queen saw this, she rubbed her face with walnut-juice, so that she was quite dirty; then she tangled her beautiful hair and smeared it with disgusting ointment, till it was quite impossible to recognize the beautiful Eliza.

When her father saw her, he was much shocked, and declared she was not his daughter. No one but the watch-dog and the swallows knew her; and they were only poor animals, and could say nothing. 

Then poor Eliza wept, and thought of her eleven brothers, who were all away. Sorrowfully, she stole away from the palace, and walked, the whole day, over fields and moors, till she came to the great forest. She knew not in what direction to go; but she was so unhappy, and longed so for her brothers, who had been, like herself, driven out into the world, that she was determined to seek them.

She had been but a short time in the wood when night came on, and she quite lost the path; so she laid herself down on the soft moss, offered up her evening prayer, and leaned her head against the stump of a tree.

All nature was still, and the soft, mild air fanned her forehead. The light of hundreds of glow-worms shone amidst the grass and the moss, like green fire; and if she touched a twig with her hand, ever so lightly, the brilliant insects fell down around her, like shooting-stars.

All night long she dreamt of her brothers. She and they were children again, playing together. She saw them writing with their diamond pencils on golden slates, while she looked at the beautiful picture-book which had cost half a kingdom.

They were not writing lines and letters, as they used to do; but descriptions of the noble deeds they had performed, and of all they had discovered and seen. In the picture-book, too, everything was living. The birds sang, and the people came out of the book, and spoke to Eliza and her brothers; but, as the leaves turned over, they darted back again to their places, that all might be in order.

When she awoke, the sun was high in the heavens; yet she could not see him, for the lofty trees spread their branches thickly over her head; but his beams were glancing through the leaves here and there, like a golden mist. There was a sweet fragrance from the fresh green verdure, and the birds almost perched upon her shoulders.

She heard water rippling from a number of springs, all flowing in a lake with golden sands. Bushes grew thickly round the lake, and at one spot an opening had been made by a deer, through which Eliza went down to the water.

The lake was so clear that, had not the wind rustled the branches of the trees and the bushes, so that they moved, they would have appeared as if painted in the depths of the lake; for every leaf was reflected in the water, whether it stood in the shade or the sunshine.

As soon as Eliza saw her own face, she was quite terrified at finding it so dirty and ugly; but when she wetted her little hand, and rubbed her eyes and forehead, her skin gleamed forth once more; and, after she had undressed, and dipped herself in the fresh water, a more beautiful king's daughter could not be found in the wide world. 

As soon as she had dressed herself again, and braided her long hair, she went to the bubbling spring, and drank some water out of the hollow of her hand. 

Then she wandered far into the forest, not knowing whither she went. She thought of her brothers, and felt sure that God would not forsake her.

It is God who makes the wild apples grow in the wood, to satisfy the hungry, and He now led her to one of these trees, which was so loaded with fruit, that the boughs bent beneath the weight.

Here she held her noonday repast, placed props under the boughs, and then went into the gloomiest depths of the forest.

 It was so still that she could hear the sound of her own footsteps, as well as the rustling of every withered leaf which she crushed under her feet. Not a bird was to be seen, not a sunbeam could penetrate through the large, dark boughs of the trees. 

Their lofty trunks stood so close together, that, when she looked before her, it seemed as if she were enclosed within trellis-work. Such solitude she had never known before. The night was very dark. Not a single glow-worm glittered in the moss.

Sorrowfully she laid herself down to sleep; and, after a while, it seemed to her as if the branches of the trees parted over her head, and that the mild eyes of angels looked down upon her from heaven. When she awoke in the morning, she knew not whether she had dreamt this, or if it had really been so.

Then she continued her wandering; but she had not gone many steps forward, when she met an old woman with berries in her basket, and she gave her a few to eat. 

Then Eliza asked her if she had not seen eleven princes riding through the forest.

"No," replied the old woman, "But I saw yesterday eleven swans, with gold crowns on their heads, swimming on the river close by."

Then she led Eliza a little distance farther to a sloping bank, and at the foot of it wound a little river.

The trees on its banks stretched their long leafy branches across the water towards each other, and where the growth prevented them from meeting naturally, the roots had torn themselves away from the ground, so that the branches might mingle their foliage as they hung over the water.

Eliza bade the old woman farewell, and walked by the flowing river, till she reached the shore of the open sea. 

And there, before the young maiden's eyes, lay the glorious ocean, but not a sail appeared on its surface, not even a boat could be seen. How was she to go farther?

She noticed how the countless pebbles on the sea-shore had been smoothed and rounded by the action of the water. Glass, iron, stones, everything that lay there mingled together, had taken its shape from the same power, and felt as smooth, or even smoother than her own delicate hand. 

"The water rolls on without weariness," she said, till all that is hard becomes smooth; so will I be unwearied in my task. Thanks for your lessons, bright rolling waves; my heart tells me you will lead me to my dear brothers." 

On the foam-covered sea-weeds, lay eleven white swan feathers, which she gathered up and placed together. Drops of water lay upon them; whether they were dew-drops or tears no one could say. 

Lonely as it was on the sea-shore, she did not observe it, for the ever-moving sea showed more changes in a few hours than the most varying lake could produce during a whole year. If a black heavy cloud arose, it was as if the sea said, "I can look dark and angry too;" and then the wind blew, and the waves turned to white foam as they rolled.

When the wind slept, and the clouds glowed with the red sunlight, then the sea looked like a rose leaf. But however quietly its white glassy surface rested, there was still a motion on the shore, as its waves rose and fell like the breast of a sleeping child. 

When the sun was about to set, Eliza saw eleven white swans with golden crowns on their heads, flying towards the land, one behind the other, like a long white ribbon.

Then Eliza went down the slope from the shore, and hid herself behind the bushes. The swans alighted quite close to her and flapped their great white wings. As soon as the sun had disappeared under the water, the feathers of the swans fell off, and eleven beautiful princes, Eliza's brothers, stood near her.

She uttered a loud cry, for, although they were very much changed, she knew them immediately. She sprang into their arms, and called them each by name. 

Then, how happy the princes were at meeting their little sister again, for they recognized her, although she had grown so tall and beautiful.

They laughed, and they wept, and very soon understood how wickedly their mother had acted to them all.

"We brothers," said the eldest, "fly about as wild swans, so long as the sun is in the sky; but as soon as it sinks behind the hills, we recover our human shape. Therefore must we always be near a resting place for our feet before sunset; for if we should be flying towards the clouds at the time we recovered our natural shape as men, we should sink deep into the sea. We do not dwell here, but in a land just as fair, that lies beyond the ocean, which we have to cross for a long distance; there is no island in our passage upon which we could pass, the night; nothing but a little rock rising out of the sea, upon which we can scarcely stand with safety, even closely crowded together. If the sea is rough, the foam dashes over us, yet we thank God even for this rock; we have passed whole nights upon it, or we should never have reached our beloved fatherland, for our flight across the sea occupies two of the longest days in the year. We have permission to visit out home once in every year, and to remain eleven days, during which we fly across the forest to look once more at the palace where our father dwells, and where we were born, and at the church, where our mother lies buried. Here it seems as if the very trees and bushes were related to us. The wild horses leap over the plains as we have seen them in our childhood. The charcoal burners sing the old songs, to which we have danced as children. This is our fatherland, to which we are drawn by loving ties; and here we have found you, our dear little sister., Two days longer we can remain here, and then must we fly away to a beautiful land which is not our home; and how can we take you with us? We have neither ship nor boat."

"How can I break this spell?" said their sister. And then she talked about it nearly the whole night, only slumbering for a few hours.

Eliza was awakened by the rustling of the swans' wings as they soared above. Her brothers were again changed to swans, and they flew in circles wider and wider, till they were far away; but one of them, the youngest swan, remained behind, and laid his head in his sister's lap, while she stroked his wings; and they remained together the whole day.

Towards evening, the rest came back, and as the sun went down they resumed their natural forms.

"To-morrow," said one, "we shall fly away, not to return again till a whole year has passed. But we cannot leave you here. Have you courage to go with us? My arm is strong enough to carry you through the wood; and will not all our wings be strong enough to fly with you over the sea?"

"Yes, take me with you," said Eliza. Then they spent the whole night in weaving a net with the pliant willow and rushes. It was very large and strong. 

Eliza laid herself down on the net, and when the sun rose, and her brothers again became wild swans, they took up the net with their beaks, and flew up to the clouds with their dear sister, who still slept. 

The sunbeams fell on her face, therefore one of the swans soared over her head, so that his broad wings might shade her. 

They were far from the land when Eliza woke. She thought she must still be dreaming, it seemed so strange to her to feel herself being carried so high in the air over the sea. 

By her side lay a branch full of beautiful ripe berries, and a bundle of sweet roots; the youngest of her brothers had gathered them for her, and placed them by her side. She smiled her thanks to him; she knew it was the same who had hovered over her to shade her with his wings.

They were now so high, that a large ship beneath them looked like a white sea-gull skimming the waves. 

A great cloud floating behind them appeared like a vast mountain, and upon it Eliza saw her own shadow and those of the eleven swans, looking gigantic in size. Altogether it formed a more beautiful picture than she had ever seen; but as the sun rose higher, and the clouds were left behind, the shadowy picture vanished away. 

Onward the whole day they flew through the air like a winged arrow, yet more slowly than usual, for they had their sister to carry. 

The weather seemed inclined to be stormy, and Eliza watched the sinking sun with great anxiety, for the little rock in the ocean was not yet in sight. It appeared to her as if the swans were making great efforts with their wings. Alas! she was the cause of their not advancing more quickly. 

When the sun set, they would change to men, fall into the sea and be drowned. Then she offered a prayer from her inmost heart, but still no appearance of the rock. 

Dark clouds came nearer, the gusts of wind told of a coming storm, while from a thick, heavy mass of clouds the lightning burst forth flash after flash. 

The sun had reached the edge of the sea, when the swans darted down so swiftly, that Eliza's head trembled; she believed they were falling, but they again soared onward. Presently she caught sight of the rock just below them, and by this time the sun was half hidden by the waves.

The rock did not appear larger than a seal's head thrust out of the water. They sunk so rapidly, that at the moment their feet touched the rock, it shone only like a star, and at last disappeared like the last spark in a piece of burnt paper.

Then she saw her brothers standing closely round her with their arms linked together. There was but just room enough for them, and not the smallest space to spare. The sea dashed against the rock, and covered them with spray. The heavens were lighted up with continual flashes, and peal after peal of thunder rolled. But the sister and brothers sat holding each other's hands, and singing hymns, from which they gained hope and courage. 

In the early dawn the air became calm and still, and at sunrise the swans flew away from the rock with Eliza. 

The sea was still rough, and from their high position in the air, the white foam on the dark green waves looked like millions of swans swimming on the water. 

As the sun rose higher, Eliza saw before her, floating on the air, a range of mountains, with shining masses of ice on their summits. In the centre, rose a castle apparently a mile long, with rows of columns, rising one above another, while, around it, palm-trees waved and flowers bloomed as large as mill wheels. She asked if this was the land to which they were hastening. 

The swans shook their heads, for what she beheld were the beautiful ever-changing cloud palaces of the "Fata Morgana," into which no mortal can enter. Eliza was still gazing at the scene, when mountains, forests, and castles melted away, and twenty stately churches rose in their stead, with high towers and pointed gothic windows. 

Eliza even fancied she could hear the tones of the organ, but it was the music of the murmuring sea which she heard. As they drew nearer to the churches, they also changed into a fleet of ships, which seemed to be sailing beneath her; but as she looked again, she found it was only a sea mist gliding over the ocean. 

So there continued to pass before her eyes a constant change of scene, till at last she saw the real land to which they were bound, with its blue mountains, its cedar forests, and its cities and palaces. 

Long before the sun went down, she sat on a rock, in front of a large cave, on the floor of which the over-grown yet delicate green creeping plants looked like an embroidered carpet. 

"Now we shall expect to hear what you dream of to-night," said the youngest brother, as he showed his sister her bedroom.

"Heaven grant that I may dream how to save you," she replied. And this thought took such hold upon her mind that she prayed earnestly to God for help, and even in her sleep she continued to pray. 

Then it appeared to her as if she were flying high in the air, towards the cloudy palace of the "Fata Morgana," and a fairy came out to meet her, radiant and beautiful in appearance, and yet very much like the old woman who had given her berries in the wood, and who had told her of the swans with golden crowns on their heads.

"Your brothers can be released," said she, "if you have only courage and perseverance. True, water is softer than your own delicate hands, and yet it polishes stones into shapes; it feels no pain as your fingers would feel, it has no soul, and cannot suffer such agony and torment as you will have to endure. Do you see the stinging nettle which I hold in my hand? Quantities of the same sort grow round the cave in which you sleep, but none will be of any use to you unless they grow upon the graves in a churchyard. These you must gather even while they burn blisters on your hands. Break them to pieces with your hands and feet, and they will become flax, from which you must spin and weave eleven coats with long sleeves; if these are then thrown over the eleven swans, the spell will be broken. But remember, that from the moment you commence your task until it is finished, even should it occupy years of your life, you must not speak. The first word you utter will pierce through the hearts of your brothers like a deadly dagger. Their lives hang upon your tongue. Remember all I have told you."

And as she finished speaking, she touched her hand lightly with the nettle, and a pain, as of burning fire, awoke Eliza.

It was broad daylight, and close by where she had been sleeping lay a nettle like the one she had seen in her dream. She fell on her knees and offered her thanks to God. 

Then she went forth from the cave to begin her work with her delicate hands. She groped in amongst the ugly nettles, which burnt great blisters on her hands and arms, but she determined to bear it gladly if she could only release her dear brothers. 

So she bruised the nettles with her bare feet and spun the flax. At sunset her brothers returned and were very much frightened when they found her dumb.

They believed it to be some new sorcery of their wicked step-mother. But when they saw her hands they understood what she was doing on their behalf, and the youngest brother wept, and where his tears fell the pain ceased, and the burning blisters vanished. 

She kept to her work all night, for she could not rest till she had released her dear brothers. During the whole of the following day, while her brothers were absent, she sat in solitude, but never before had the time flown so quickly. 

One coat was already finished and she had begun the second, when she heard the huntsman's horn, and was struck with fear.

The sound came nearer and nearer, she heard the dogs barking, and fled with terror into the cave. She hastily bound together the nettles she had gathered into a bundle and sat upon them. 

Immediately a great dog came bounding towards her out of the ravine, and then another and another; they barked loudly, ran back, and then came again. 

In a very few minutes all the huntsmen stood before the cave, and the handsomest of them was the king of the country. He advanced towards her, for he had never seen a more beautiful maiden.

"How did you come here, my sweet child?" he asked. But Eliza shook her head. She dared not speak, at the cost of her brothers' lives. And she hid her hands under her apron, so that the king might not see how she must be suffering.

"Come with me," he said; "here you cannot remain. If you are as good as you are beautiful, I will dress you in silk and velvet, I will place a golden crown upon your head, and you shall dwell, and rule, and make your home in my richest castle." 

And then he lifted her on his horse. She wept and wrung her hands, but the king said, "I wish only for your happiness. A time will come when you will thank me for this." 

And then he galloped away over the mountains, holding her before him on this horse, and the hunters followed behind them.

As the sun went down, they approached a fair royal city, with churches, and cupolas. On arriving at the castle the king led her into marble halls, where large fountains played, and where the walls and the ceilings were covered with rich paintings.

But she had no eyes for all these glorious sights, she could only mourn and weep. Patiently she allowed the women to array her in royal robes, to weave pearls in her hair, and draw soft gloves over her blistered fingers. 

As she stood before them in all her rich dress, she looked so dazzingly beautiful that the court bowed low in her presence. 

Then the king declared his intention of making her his bride, but the archbishop shook his head, and whispered that the fair young maiden was only a witch who had blinded the king's eyes and bewitched his heart.

But the king would not listen to this; he ordered the music to sound, the daintiest dishes to be served, and the loveliest maidens to dance. After-wards he led her through fragrant gardens and lofty halls, but not a smile appeared on her lips or sparkled in her eyes. She looked the very picture of grief.

Then the king opened the door of a little chamber in which she. was to sleep; it was adorned with rich green tapestry, and resembled the cave in which he had found her. 

On the floor lay the bundle of flax which she had spun from the nettles, and under the ceiling hung the coat she had made. These things had been brought away from the cave as curiosities by one of the huntsmen.

"Here you can dream yourself back again in the old home in the cave," said the king; "here is the work with which you employed yourself. It will amuse you now in the midst of all this splendor to think of that time."

When Eliza saw all these things which lay so near her heart, a smile played around her mouth, and the crimson blood rushed to her cheeks. She thought of her brothers, and their release made her so joyful that she kissed the king's hand. 

Then he pressed her to his heart. Very soon the joyous church bells announced the marriage feast, and that the beautiful dumb girl out of the wood was to be made the queen of the country. 

Then the archbishop whispered wicked words in the king's ear, but they did not sink into his heart. The marriage was still to take place, and the archbishop himself had to place the crown on the bride's head; in his wicked spite, he pressed the narrow circlet so tightly on her forehead that it caused her pain. 

But a heavier weight encircled her heart- sorrow for her brothers. She felt not bodily pain. Her mouth was closed; a single word would cost the lives of her brothers. But she loved the kind, handsome king, who did everything to make her happy more and more each day; she loved him with all her heart, and her eyes beamed with the love she dared not speak. Oh! if she had only been able to confide in him and tell him of her grief. But dumb she must remain till her task was finished. 

Therefore at night she crept away into her little chamber, which had been decked out to look like the cave, and quickly wove one coat after another. But when she began the seventh she found she had no more flax. She knew that the nettles she wanted to use grew in the churchyard, and that she must pluck them herself. How should she get out there? 

"Oh, what is the pain in my fingers to the torment which my heart endures?" said she. "I must venture, I shall not be denied help from heaven." 

Then with a trembling heart, as if she were about to perform a wicked deed, she crept into the garden in the broad moonlight, and passed through the narrow walks and the deserted streets, till she reached the churchyard.

Then she saw on one of the broad tombstones a group of ghouls. These hideous creatures took off their rags, as if they intended to bathe, and then clawing open the fresh graves with their long, skinny fingers, pulled out the dead bodies and ate the flesh! 

Eliza had to pass close by them, and they fixed their wicked glances upon her, but she prayed silently, gathered the burning nettles, and carried them home with her to the castle. 

One person only had seen her, and that was the archbishop- he was awake while everybody was asleep. Now he thought his opinion was evidently correct. All was not right with the queen. She was a witch, and had bewitched the king and all the people. 

Secretly he told the king what he had seen and what he feared, and as the hard words came from his tongue, the carved images of the saints shook their heads as if they would say. "It is not so. Eliza is innocent."

But the archbishop interpreted it in another way; he believed that they witnessed against her, and were shaking their heads at her wickedness. 

Two large tears rolled down the king's cheeks, and he went home with doubt in his heart, and at night he pretended to sleep, but there came no real sleep to his eyes, for he saw Eliza get up every night and disappear in her own chamber.

From day to day his brow became darker, and Eliza saw it and did not understand the reason, but it alarmed her and made her heart tremble for her brothers. 

Her hot tears glittered like pearls on the regal velvet and diamonds, while all who saw her were wishing they could be queens. 

In the mean time she had almost finished her task; only one coat of mail was wanting, but she had no flax left, and not a single nettle.

Once more only, and for the last time, must she venture to the churchyard and pluck a few handfuls. She thought with terror of the solitary walk, and of the horrible ghouls, but her will was firm, as well as her trust in Providence.

Eliza went, and the king and the archbishop followed her. They saw her vanish through the wicket gate into the churchyard, and when they came nearer they saw the ghouls sitting on the tombstone, as Eliza had seen them, and the king turned away his head, for he thought she was with them- she whose head had rested on his breast that very evening. 

"The people must condemn her," said he, and she was very quickly condemned by every one to suffer death by fire. 

Away from the gorgeous regal halls was she led to a dark, dreary cell, where the wind whistled through the iron bars. 

Instead of the velvet and silk dresses, they gave her the coats of mail which she had woven to cover her, and the bundle of nettles for a pillow; but nothing they could give her would have pleased her more. 

She continued her task with joy, and prayed for help, while the street-boys sang jeering songs about her, and not a soul comforted her with a kind word.

Towards evening, she heard at the grating the flutter of a swan's wing, it was her youngest brother- he had found his sister, and she sobbed for joy, although she knew that very likely this would be the last night she would have to live. But still she could hope, for her task was almost finished, and her brothers were come. 

Then the archbishop arrived, to be with her during her last hours, as he had promised the king. But she shook her head, and begged him, by looks and gestures, not to stay; for in this night she knew she must finish her task, otherwise all her pain and tears and sleepless nights would have been suffered in vain. The archbishop withdrew, uttering bitter words against her; but poor Eliza knew that she was innocent, and diligently continued her work.

The little mice ran about the floor, they dragged the nettles to her feet, to help as well as they could; and the thrush sat outside the grating of the window, and sang to her the whole night long, as sweetly as possible, to keep up her spirits.

It was still twilight, and at least an hour before sunrise, when the eleven brothers stood at the castle gate, and demanded to be brought before the king. They were told it could not be, it was yet almost night, and as the king slept they dared not disturb him. They threatened, they entreated. 

Then the guard appeared, and even the king himself, inquiring what all the noise meant. At this moment the sun rose. The eleven brothers were seen no more, but eleven wild swans flew away over the castle.

And now all the people came streaming forth from the gates of the city, to see the witch burnt. An old horse drew the cart on which she sat. They had dressed her in a garment of coarse sackcloth. Her lovely hair hung loose on her shoulders, her cheeks were deadly pale, her lips moved silently, while her fingers still worked at the green flax. Even on the way to death, she would not give up her task.

The ten coats of mail lay at her feet, she was working hard at the eleventh, while the mob jeered her and said, "See the witch, how she mutters! She has no hymn-book in her hand. She sits there with her ugly sorcery. Let us tear it in a thousand pieces."

And then they pressed towards her, and would have destroyed the coats of mail, but at the same moment eleven wild swans flew over her, and alighted on the cart. Then they flapped their large wings, and the crowd drew on one side in alarm.

"It is a sign from heaven that she is innocent," whispered many of them; but they ventured not to say it aloud.

As the executioner seized her by the hand, to lift her out of the cart, she hastily threw the eleven coats of mail over the swans, and they immediately became eleven handsome princes; but the youngest had a swan's wing, instead of an arm; for she had not been able to finish the last sleeve of the coat.

"Now I may speak," she exclaimed. "I am innocent."

Then the people, who saw what happened, bowed to her, as before a saint; but she sank lifeless in her brothers' arms, overcome with suspense, anguish, and pain.

"Yes, she is innocent," said the eldest brother; and then he related all that had taken place; and while he spoke there rose in the air a fragrance as from millions of roses. 

Every piece of faggot in the pile had taken root, and threw out branches, and appeared a thick hedge, large and high, covered with roses; while above all bloomed a white and shining flower, that glittered like a star. 

This flower the king plucked, and placed in Eliza's bosom, when she awoke from her swoon, with peace and happiness in her heart. And all the church bells rang of themselves, and the birds came in great troops. And a marriage procession returned to the castle, such as no king had ever before seen.

THE END

[sarahreesbrennan]

How come between Season of The Witch and Daughter of Chaos, we skipped Sabrina's dark baptism and Tommy being resurrected/killed and went straight into the Greendale 13 threat? Loving the books so far, just curious. 🖤🖤

That’s a great question and I’m so happy you’re enjoying! I’m so sorry this reply is late, I am on unexpected deadline but I know I have a few Sabrina, Fence and In Other Lands answers owing and I am delighted the questions were asked!

There is a confusion that often arises because the category of media tie-in novels (books set in the world of a media property) has two main subcategories. They are similar and have much in common, but aren’t the same.

A) One is novelizations, which is basically a book that tells the same story as the movie/TV show/graphic novels, but through a different medium. The story covers the same space of time, and includes much of the same dialogue. It’s the same story told in a different way.

B) Two is tie-in books, which tell different stories that fit in before or after, or in the spaces between the story. Often tie-in books start with prequels, telling the tale of how the characters get to the place before the story began. It’s a different story but it’s crafted specifically to tie in with the larger story.

Both subcategories are set in the specific story world. Both offer insight into the characters, their thoughts and feelings, and secret motivations, but they are different kinds of story.

I had no idea of these distinctions before I started to write tie-in books myself, so I explain here because hey, knowledge is always useful. I’ve now read a lot of them, because I wanted to teach myself how to write them and because they’re fun, so I thought discussing examples might illustrate the difference.

The Iron Man novelization by Peter David is widely considered especially good. I’ve read it and I like it a lot: great echoes, perfect story beats. (I discuss it pretty technically because I was reading it in order to teach myself to write a novelization, as opposed to a tie-in novel. I have written a novelization, but not in the Sabrina universe and not under my name for contractual reasons!) It tells the story of the first Iron Man movie, how Tony Stark became Iron Man. A novelization means a lot of the (in this case funny and great) dialogue from the movie must be used, but then with a novelization you have to get pretty specific about why the characters said what they said, and how they felt when they said it. One thing I liked a lot in the novel was the insight offered that Tony Stark’s actions at the beginning of the story were frequently driven by sheer boredom--that he was a genius who wasn’t given enough scope for his genius, and was acting out. 

An example of a fabulous tie-in book is Tess Sharpe’s The Evolution of Claire, a book that ties in with the Jurassic World movies, a prequel of how the heroine Claire gets involved in the dubiously moral world of dinosaur park creation. So it happens before the events of the movies, but by reading it you understand Claire better, her ambitions and frustrations. Another such is Leigh Bardugo’s Wonder Woman novel, Warbringer, showing Diana’s much earlier years, and making you understand more deeply how Diana evolved her moral philosophy and her secret insecurities. 

There’s a great article in the Guardian about tie-in novels: https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2018/jul/17/tie-in-novelisations-star-wars-jurassic-world

To add to the confusion, stories can have both novelizations and tie-in novels. 

Star Wars famously had absolute masses of tie-in novels. The Star Wars universe is so popular it even has junior and adult novelizations--two different novelizations of the same movie. Patricia C. Wrede, a rather fabulous YA/MG SFF writer, wrote the junior novelizations of the Star Wars prequels. (I’ve read them but if you want to get started on Patricia C. Wrede I would recommend her Enchanted Forest Chronicles. Nothing to do with Star Wars, I just love them.) 

Star Wars also has category B, the tie-in novels. For instance, Resistance Reborn by Rebecca Roanhorse, which is a story that takes place in between the events of the movies The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker. I have also read this book. Very cool interstellar war and spies action, but also... for them that like that kind of thing, among which I would include myself... Poe ties Finn’s tie. Thank u Rebecca Roanhorse.

Similarly, there’s a novelization of Maleficent 2 (Maleficent 2: Mistress of Evil by Elizabeth Rudnick), but there’s also a tie-in novel set between Maleficents 1 and 2 (Heart of the Moors by Holly Black) telling you what happened in between the events of those movies. Significant things can happen in those spaces--deaths, courtships, mysteries solved and secrets told. A dungeon scene between Prince Philip and Maleficent is in Heart of the Moors. It’s very important.

So in a novelization, a retelling of a story through a different medium, you get the same events as in the story. But you might get extra scenes that cast a different light on the story, and you will get access to the inner thoughts and motivations of the characters.

And a tie-in book is usually set in between the seasons of a TV show/movies/issues of a graphic novel. It’s a story made to fit into a liminal space, and meant to shed light both on what happens in between the stories, but to cast light before itself and behind itself--so you might learn more about the characters’ pasts, or learn things about their feelings that will illuminate why they behave in a certain way in the future.  

For the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, I was hired to write tie-ins, so I wrote a prequel (Season of the Witch) which shows the summer before Part 1, the autumn when Sabrina turns sixteen and has to sign her soul away. It’s an adventure with a rusalka, but also shows us how Sabrina came to be 100% certain her wild witch cousin Ambrose would have her back, why she was insecure enough to do memory spells on her boyfriend (Harvey), and it’s an opportunity to know how the witch world works before our heroine does.

Then I wrote Daughter of Chaos, which happens over mortal New Year’s, right after the Christmas episode that ends Part 1, and before Part 2--because the show didn’t have mortal New Year’s. That was a new adventure that could also tell us how people felt after the events of Part 1, and why people might act the way they would in Part 2. It’s about bad luck spells and enchanted towns, but it’s also about coping with a break-up and how that can put you on a different path, about bereavement and trauma caused by magic, and about longing for affection. Plus it provides us the first hints about hell, before our heroine sees the sparks fly. 

Same deal with book 3, Path of Night, which happens between Parts 2 and 3, in the early spring while Sabrina’s boyfriend (Nick) is in hell. It’s a quest for an item of power to release your beloved from suffering, but it’s also about what happens when you ask a lot (too much?) from your friends, how you can climb out of trauma toward loving relationships (between mean-girl witches and wicked-witch cousins), and how trauma can take someone apart (nobody in hell is having a good time). Plus it provides knowledge about hell before our heroine gets it in Part 3, and glimpses pertaining to heaven.

This month my tie-in novel with C.S. Pacat’s Fence graphic novels comes out (September 29!) and it’s set after the events of volume 4, though the book Striking Distance also works (like Season of the Witch) as an entryway into a new world and an introduction to the characters (in this case a fencing team at an elite boarding school). You try to make every book a possible gateway, but a book 1 definitely should be. (Still, I read Vampire Diaries Book 4 first and caught on just fine, and I recall one reader who read Daughter of Chaos/Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Book 2 and was like, ‘I do not watch this show and did not read Book 1, but I get everything and also Nick Scratch can get it.’)

Another person reading the Sabrina books was like, ‘Sabrina talks a lot about her Dark Baptism in Season of the Witch but then it never happens, Sarah Rees Brennan!’ And this is true, because it happens on the show, and I wasn’t writing novelizations. I think writing Sabrina’s Dark Baptism and Tommy’s death would have been cool and heartbreaking, but I wasn’t meant to retell a lot of scenes from the show. I did snabble a few scenes, but only ones I could use specifically for the purposes of telling the new, in-between stories.

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you get the scripts of the media property you’re working with. Sometimes you get several versions of the scripts. Sometimes you don’t know until you watch the filmed version that scenes got cut. (There were several scenes I read about in the Sabrina scripts, which were cut later, that I used to inform the books. Plus sometimes it’s just fun to watch something and be like, I KNOW WHY e.g. SHE HAS THIS ACCENT/HIS SHIRT DISAPPEARED.) For both you get insights into the story, and especially insights into points of view, that I think you can really only get with books.

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you consult with the writers for the media property, are told things to do and things not to do, and have opportunities to do other optional research. (Things I have done in pursuit of better tie-in novels: written to Sabrina actors and asked them their character thoughts and how they played certain scenes. Forced C.S. Pacat to play with my kitten on a skype call while I took her notes about fencing and feelings.)  

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you have to write them fast, and you have highly specific contracts. Christopher Golden, who’s written many Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Daredevil novels, discusses some details here: https://iamtw.org/from-daredevil-to-buffy-christopher-golden/

So, that’s Options A and B. There’s also Mystery Option C, stories that blur the lines between the two, such as the events of a story told from the point of view of supporting characters, so you see both behind the scenes, the scenes and often before-and-after for the story proper. Tom Stoppard’s play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, focusing on Hamlet’s pals from uni. I don’t know what you’d call them. I just wanted to say that they exist too.

Thank you for reading! (Both this and the books.) I hope this was informative and not too dull. :)

[dansnaturepictures]

My Cuckoo and Lesser Spotted Woodpecker first sighting anniversaries: Updated 

Celebrating 10 years today since I saw my first ever Cuckoo and 7 years today since I saw my first ever Lesser Spotted Woodpecker 

I wanted to do a special post to celebrate once more one of my favourite days in the year 12th April due to among other memories on this date two of my greatest ever birdwatching moments in the New Forest in the early part of last decade on this date. I wanted to a post following a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker sighting a few weeks ago and the fact which I can’t believe that its been a whole decade since I first saw a Cuckoo that’s gone so fast. But with me working from home and talking photos and doing posts every day still and weekend mornings quite busy as a bit of a knock on from that and other things I don’t have the most time to be able to do special posts so ones different to my daily blog. So what I have done is rewrite this post https://dansnaturepictures.tumblr.com/post/159498448669/my-cuckoo-and-lesser-spotted-woodpecker which I did on 12th April 2017 which was a rewrite of this one on the anniversary on 2015 https://dansnaturepictures.tumblr.com/post/116192400602/my-cuckoo-and-lesser-spotted-woodpecker, I have pasted the same text below adapting how many years its been when I mention it and other small bits but just before the end I have added some updates of things that have happened with these two of my favourite birds since 2017. On my social media I like marking anniversaries but never mark every anniversary every year, however this double anniversary is so special the date is etched in my memory so I just can’t seem to not do something to mark it every year so this is this year’s post which I may basically re-post for years to come as I did every year on Twitter since I believe with the 2017 one.

Ten years ago today I saw my first ever Cuckoo at Acres Down in the New Forest, which became one of my favourite birds, and seven years ago today I saw for the first time a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker at Pig Bush in the New Forest. The Lesser Spotted Woodpecker is another of my favourite birds, and one I had dreamed about seeing up until this moment. As this post explores and I have mentioned before this is not just two separate anniversaries sharing a date but the sightings of these two special birds are intertwined for me. This is not just a tale about two of my favourite birds, but about two of my favourite places in the New Forest and the world and these moments being big parts of my connections with them.

On this day in 2011 we headed out on a sunny day for what I thought was a dog walk and landscape photography trip to Acres Down in the New Forest. At this stage I’d heard Cuckoos on 2 separate occasions, but never seen one thought I longed to. I particularly remember a day of near agony at Blashford Lakes nature reserve where we heard one calling the whole time pretty much but just could not see it this before we managed to see a Cuckoo. However when we arrived at Acres Down one of our top New Forest spots where we went on Saturday, and climbed the hill to look over the beautiful landscape I heard one again. It enchanted the landscape, and sounded very close. To my delight a scan of some nearby trees revealed a Cuckoo sitting in one and I was very happy. We literally heard Cuckoos (we believe there to have been 2 calling that day) the whole walk to Millyford Bridge and back from that point on. That two week Easter Holidays as I was still at school back then we went to many more parts of the New Forest, and heard Cuckoos at all but one or two of them and went onto see two more Cuckoos that spring which was extraordinary. So to go from being a bird I had never seen to one I was hearing on a regular basis and had a few sightings of was a really rewarding experience and just a time I’ll never forget. Thankfully my first Cuckoo encounter that Easter Holidays led to my first sighting of one, otherwise if we’d have got even two or three of those other places where I heard Cuckoos in before the sighting I may have been a little frustrated whilst you are always extremely lucky to just hear a Cuckoo their amazing and iconic call and its great when nature can tease and temp you and keep you so wonderfully addicted. 

As I’ve mentioned a lot before the heath land and ancient woodland of the New Forest national park is a great area for Cuckoos, and it’s so nice to be able to see them with their numbers declining across the country. Acres Down was a fitting and beautiful spot to see my first, it is one of my favourite parts of the New Forest and I only discovered it due to birdwatching namely Goshawk and Honey Buzzard species we went there to see, seeing our first ever Tree Pipit that day in 2009 too then after it became a very regular walking spot for us exploring so much the Cuckoo moment was the next big one here in terms of birdwatching. This began my love affair with the Cuckoo through seeing and hearing many more in the New Forest, and after less than a year of that day then years ago I proudly added it to my list of favourite birds. 

One of those other places where I heard a Cuckoo in the spring of 2011 in the New Forest was Pig Bush, one of my very favourite parts of the national park because I am captivated by its amazing landscape, it’s brilliant for wildlife and have spent many happy moments there I always say for me this is the best birdwatching spot in the New Forest exuding dedicated nature reserves perhaps for variety and quality of what can be seen there and its brilliant for all wildlife with many a day where we’ve seen an unbelievable list of species and very high quality species on a walk. Since 2011 Pig Bush has identified itself as the best place to see and hear Cuckoos in the New Forest in my opinion, over the last decade we have tended to hear one there most springs as it enchants it’s woodland and heath beautifully and some of my best Cuckoo sightings since 2011 have come at Pig Bush. So it’s fitting that my first Cuckoo and Lesser Spotted Woodpecker sightings share a date, because it was a Cuckoo that led me to our first Lesser Spotted Woodpecker sighting at Pig Bush seven years ago today.

The trip seven years ago started out similarly to that of ten years ago today. We had just returned from Gloucestershire visiting Slimbridge and the International Centre for Birds of Prey and was a week away from going to Pembrokeshire and Skomer Island etc. for my Mum’s birthday so I expected a dog walk and a landscape photography day, but what I got was arguably my best ever birdwatching moment. I had always dreamed of seeing a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker due to my love of green and Great Spotted Woodpeckers, and had heard they could be seen in Hampshire so wanted to kind of complete the set.

The endless search and unattainable quality had made me crave a sighting even more. Seven years ago today my wait ended in spectacular fashion. My Mum and her partner were looking at Redstarts in the wood at Pig Bush, but having seen these for the first time in 2014 a few days before at Ashley Walk in the New Forest I was more interested in the Cuckoo I could hear calling. So I walked in a little bit further in the opposite direction and scanned in my binoculars to see if I might catch the all-important glimpse of the Cuckoo, when I saw a woodpecker like bird flying with a black and white striped back. It was too small for a Great Spotted and clearly not a Treecreeper. So I confidently proclaimed “I think I’ve just seen a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker”. I wasn’t instantly believed but we walked a bit further towards the area anyway, when I managed to see the Cuckoo briefly sitting in a tree before flying off. I think I did know definitely I had seen the Lesser by this point it was just a case of seeing if my Mum and her partner could see it and get a glorious second look so this was an amazing few moments seeing two incredible birds for the first time in that year as well as one for the first time ever. Then soon afterwards the small bird flew back and went on a tree before setting off again, and we were all able to see beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker! I had seen the bird I had dreamed about and I spotted it too which I loved and gave me a great bit of clout in our small birding group for a bit, it instantly became a favourite of mine and it was another favourite the Cuckoo that had led me to it. At this moment I don’t think I’d felt more lucky in birdwatching, and I was on top of the world! What was also wonderful was that a place so precious to me had been the place where I’d seen the bird I treasure so much and I didn’t expect it at all. Looking back both the first Cuckoo and Lesser Spotted Woodpecker had the same impact for me of knowing in nature and bird watching you just can’t rule anything out because neither of these sightings were expected and in a way that made them and the memory of them all the moor sweet.

We got a second view of a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker maybe the same one in the exact same spot in the back of those woods at Pig Bush in the New Forest in March 2017! This was an equally as incredible and moving moment for me and the one tiny regret I had from the 2014 experience was not getting a picture of the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker so I was determined to leave those woods with one that March as it gave us a longer display. I remember that day my Mum said “oh look there’s a Redwing” and Iooked up hoping for what might be one of my last sightings that winter of this migrant thrush but it had flown when I looked up. But a small bird then flew onto a branch and I knew instantly before I looked at it that it was going to see a lesser I think and I was ecstatic when I saw this bird again it was so powerful and phenomenal. I remember getting a safety shot with my normal lens then time stood still and my eyes did not leave the woodpecker for a second as I put my backpack on the ground and changed to my longer zoom lens. I managed the seventh picture in this photoset of this stunning bird that day. 

I am very pleased to say that we did have Lesser Spotted Woodpecker round 3 at the same place in recent weeks. After seeing one in 2014 and 2017 here, 2020 I wondered if we might see one there and it might be an every three years thing we did go to Pig Bush a few weeks before the first Coronavirus lockdown but it wasn’t to be. I genuinely assume the 2014 and 2017 bird, my Mum did see it in 2015 too but I wasn’t fast enough to see it, was the same bird but you never know what was around seven years on from the original sighting its a fanciful thought but maybe it was the same one. 2021 built on 2014 and 2017 in that gloriously it was a very much longer view. We spotted it on a branch and watched it weave and dance between the branches and even trees and really take in the splendour of this very special bird seeing its elegant and fantastic black and white striped back and cute appearance. We were on cloud 9 when seeing this sensational bird again. What’s more on this day it was one of our most extraordinary days ever for wildlife watching as minutes before we had seen the other bird I associate with Lesser Spotted Woodpecker, another favourite bird of mine I dreamt of seeing in the same vein as the woodpecker for so long since I was a child and it was interesting that I for the first time in 2014 just a couple of months before the Tawny Owl so they were always connected that an extraordinary view and bird to see on its own. We saw a ridiculous amount of other amazing species that day too such as Hawfinch, Woodlark, displaying Lapwing, Stock Dove, Fallow Deers running across a heath, an unusual for this location Canada Goose and more. Just like in 2017 I predicted the sighting a bit just seeming to know that like 2014 the magic was in the woods that day to allow us to see this which felt amazing personally with me for this bird once more. An epic moment which I’ve been proud to have this year and it may well define it. I took the record shots the final three pictures in this photoset of the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker that day this year.

Cuckoo wise since 2017, after drawing a blank and not seeing one in 2016 the only year I did that in the last decade so far I did hear them that year though notably at Pig Bush, I have seen wondrous springs of the ilk of 2011 whereby we heard and saw or heard so many times at multiple locations and went on to see Cuckoos stitching together brilliant runs within years. This happened in the New Forest so much of course, Eyeworth Pond and Fritham rivaled Pig Bush and other strong area Deadman/Turf Hill for seeing Cuckoos. I took the first two pictures in this photoset of a Cuckoo still and flying at Fritham in 2019 a glorious early summer walk with so much seen that day too, I saw my first Cuckoos of 2020 there too. I also took the fifth and sixth pictures in this photoset of record shots of one in the Eyeworth Pond/Telegraph Hill area walk in 2018 and 2017 respectively. 

The brilliant Cuckoo run expanded to places outside of the New Forest too, notably Martin Down which is one of our very favourite places for the biodiversity of nature and views anyway where I personally might not have ever seen one there but I’ve heard plenty really allowing you to focus on the phenomenal experience that just hearing them is. One particular time hearing them was on the second May bank holiday in 2018 extraordinarily two days before the Eyeworth Pond sighting so that was some weekend when there we heard a couple including one calling very loudly in a bush right beside us! An exceptional nature moment in a year and in a group of years I have been lucky to have so many. 

But another top nature reserve, Thursley Common in Surrey, like it has done since we first went in 2017 for my whole hobby really (no pun intended for another of the key species there) has for Cuckoos added a new dimension to my journey with them. This is because we have twice got to see the famous “Colin” the Cuckoo who is a celebrity bird and people flock to the one bird laden field at Thursley in spring to see this legend. We saw him in 2018 briefly flying, but 2019 it went a stage further with him and another calling so well in the woods that day we saw him at the top of a tree staying there what felt like all afternoon and calling and we got crippling views of this Cuckoo when walking in the woods the other side of the trees from the field we were in some of my best ever views of a Cuckoo for sure and I took the third and fourth pictures in this photoset of him really standing out in my Cuckoo pictures over the last ten years for still shots of the bird. Over the last four years as I have done over the last ten I have been so pleased to hear the iconic call to sum up any spring, and feel how surreal and dreamlike it is when you get to purely hear a Cuckoo up close. 

The anniversary post from 2017 linked above has a picture I took of my first Cuckoo we ever saw a decade ago attached.

It still excites me now to think of the call of the Cuckoo and the look of the striped back of the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker when these two monumental moments for me and my hobby happened, these are moments that will always stay with me, two of my greatest since I began birdwatching in 2006/2007 and what an honour its been to relive it with the species down the years. 

[princesssarisa]

from @cinefantasticquemitho, for the fictional character asks: Juliet Capulet

@cinefantastiquemitho​ accidentally answered my ask as a private message instead of a post, so I’m copying and pasting her answer here.

Favorite thing about them: The apeal of Juliet is that she is one of the earliest examples of a young rebel being portrayed positively in western literature. She lives in a world that was screwed over by the violence of the adults around her, and is one of the few people in the story who is inteligent anough to not see this violence as something natural, and question it. Another interesting element of Juliet is that, troughout the play, she learns to be very cunning and witty. Now usually, this characteristics (specially in a female character) would be portrayed as the start of a path to villany, where a character would use them to gain power over the unhapiness of others (think of Tamora and Aaron the Moor, the Macbeths, Richard III, Iago and Edmond). But in Juliet’s writing, she is still the heroine of the story, who as a young woman in the Renaissance, is justified to use cunning and witty as a means of trying to survive and find happiness for her and Romeo, the person she loves, in a world where she lacks power. And this cunning and witty, contrary to the most popular belief, does not contradict her loialty, with is another important characteristic that she shows in relation to her beloved husband Romeo.

Least favorite thing about them: Actually, i don’t have a least favorite thing about Juliet herself. In reality, when i was young and was only familiar with the play trough parodies in pop culture, without actually having readed or watched the play properly, i disliked a caricature of Juliet, that stereotyped her as just “a cute girl who is there to suffer”. Later, when i actually readed and watched montages of the play online, i saw that this wasn’t at all the actual character that Shakespeare wrote.

Favorite line:

So many, is hard to choose just one.

“My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy”.

“Ay me!

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What’s in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself”.

“ O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

Do not swear at all; Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I’ll believe thee”.

“The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; In half an hour she promised to return. Perchance she cannot meet him: that’s not so. O, she is lame! love’s heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun’s beams, Driving back shadows over louring hills: Therefore do nimble-pinion’d doves draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is the sun upon the highmost hill Of this day’s journey, and from nine till twelve Is three long hours, yet she is not come. Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me: But old folks, many feign as they were dead; Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead”.

“Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth”.

“Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus’ lodging: such a wagoner As Phaethon would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately. Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, That runaway’s eyes may wink and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk’d of and unseen. Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Play’d for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: Hood my unmann’d blood, bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, Think true love acted simple modesty. Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven’s back. Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow’d night, Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun. O, I have bought the mansion of a love, But not possess’d it, and, though I am sold, Not yet enjoy’d: so tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them”.

“O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feather’d raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, A damned saint, an honourable villain! O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In moral paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book containing such vile matter So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace”!

“Blister’d be thy tongue For such a wish! he was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown’d Sole monarch of the universal earth. O, what a beast was I to chide at him!

Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?

Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have kill’d my husband: Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt’s dead, that would have slain my husband: All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? Some word there was, worser than Tybalt’s death, That murder’d me: I would forget it fain; But, O, it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deeds to sinners’ minds: 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo—banished;’ That 'banished,’ that one word 'banished,’ Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt’s death Was woe enough, if it had ended there: Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship And needly will be rank’d with other griefs, Why follow’d not, when she said 'Tybalt’s dead,’ Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, Which modern lamentations might have moved? But with a rear-ward following Tybalt’s death, 'Romeo is banished,’ to speak that word, Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!’ There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that word’s death; no words can that woe sound”.

“It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us: Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, O, now I would they had changed voices too! Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt’s-up to the day, O, now be gone; more light and light it grows”.

“ Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend! I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days: O, by this count I shall be much in years Ere I again behold my Romeo”!

“Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, That almost freezes up the heat of life: I’ll call them back again to comfort me: Nurse! What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone. Come, vial. What if this mixture do not work at all? Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there. [Laying down her dagger] What if it be a poison, which the friar Subtly hath minister’d to have me dead, Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour’d, Because he married me before to Romeo? I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not, For he hath still been tried a holy man. How if, when I am laid into the tomb, I wake before the time that Romeo Come to redeem me? there’s a fearful point! Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault, To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? Or, if I live, is it not very like, The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place,— As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, Where, for these many hundred years, the bones Of all my buried ancestors are packed: Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, At some hours in the night spirits resort;— Alack, alack, is it not like that I, So early waking, what with loathsome smells, And shrieks like mandrakes’ torn out of the earth, That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:— O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Environed with all these hideous fears? And madly play with my forefather’s joints? And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? And, in this rage, with some great kinsman’s bone, As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? O, look! methinks I see my cousin’s ghost Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body Upon a rapier’s point: stay, Tybalt, stay! Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee”.

“Yea, noise? then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger! [Snatching ROMEO’s dagger] This is thy sheath; [Stabs herself] there rust, and let me die”.

brOTP: In the plays actual text, we see her being great friends and partners with the Nurse, and get some insinuations that Tybalt, her cousin, was also a very close friend to her. The TV series Still Star Crossed gaved to her a close friendship with her cousin Rosaline, what i apreciate very, very much. And i also like to imagine that in a Everybody Lives!AU she would be very close friends with Benvolio Montague.

OTP: With Romeo Montague.

nOTP: With Count Paris and/or Tybalt Capulet.

Random headcanon: 1. Her favorite colors are red, orange, white and gold; 2. Her favorite story from greek mithology is Eros and Psyche; 3. Her favorite fairy tale is Jack and the Beanstalk;  4. In a Modern Day Everybody Lives!AU Juliet  graduates in Philosophy, Psychology and Social Services and becomes a social worker, focused on atend teenage girls and women living at risk of suffering abuse or on abusive situations/child attorney. For more details about it, here is the link for the list of ideas about a Happy Ending Modern Day! AU made in collaboration with @giuliettaluce :

https://cinefantastiquemitho.tumblr.com/post/617097864129200128/modern-headcanon-romeo-and-juliet

Unpopular Opinion: Well, i like some elements of the Zefirelli 1968 movie adaptation: the costumes are beautifull to look at, Nino Rota’s score is the worlds eight wonder of an icon, the casting choice (specially of Leonard Whiting and Olívia Hussey as Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet, respectivelly) is pretty spot on… Buuuut: with the cutting of lines like the “Gallop apace” soliloquy, the lines where she reflects, deduces and concludes that Tybalt started the fight against Romeo with the intention of killing him and the “Potion” soliloquy, i think it reduced a lot of the huge inteligence that Juliet actually has, and with its extremely huge popularity it ended up contributing with the pop culture stereotyped idea that Juliet is just a “cute girl who is there to suffer”.

Song i associate with them: Flor, Minha Flor, by Grupo Galpão de Teatro (from the soundtrack of my favorite Romeo and Juliet montage)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koIO15cI-8Y

And Nino Rota’s What is a Youth, from the 1968 Franco Zefirelli film:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VsgolqoeJw

Favorite picture of them:

[tabloidtoc]

National Examiner, January 11

You can now buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Why JFK destroyed the Rat Pack 

Page 2: The Sky Was Their Limit -- beloved celebs who lost their lives in air crashes -- Patsy Cline, Otis Redding, Rocky Marciano, Kobe Bryant, John Denver, Carole Lombard 

Page 3: Ricky Nelson, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Glenn Miller, Will Rogers, Audie Murphy, Buddy Holly, Lt. Thomas E. Selfride 

Page 4: Cher and her fashion in her movies 

Page 6: Albert Bouria the CEO of COVID-19 vaccine manufacturer Pfizer says he hasn’t taken his company’s shot yet because he doesn’t want people to think he can jump the line 

Page 7: The kids of The Waltons are all grown up and share some fond memories -- Michael Learned (Olivia), Richard Thomas (John-Boy), Kami Cotler (Elizabeth), David W. Harper (Jim-Bob), Mary Elizabeth McDonough (Erin), Judy Norton (Mary Ellen), Eric Scott (Ben) 

Page 8: Avoid these common laundry mistakes 

Page 9: Michael J. Fox: How I survived the darkest days -- Parkinson’s has not destroyed his hope and faith 

Page 10: For the second year in a row Florida businessman Michael Esmond has paid the utility bills of families at risk of having them turned off 

Page 11: Your Health -- watch for unhealthy buildup of anxiety 

* Pantry/Fridge/Countertop -- where to store your food 

Page 12: What do you get for a monarch like Queen Elizabeth who has everything including the crown jewels? Why, gag gifts, of course 

Page 14: Dear Tony -- past lives you’ve both led have led to the Blame Game, Tony predicts many women worldwide will wear white this winter and he predicts there will be a lot more road rage 

Page 15: For more than 15 years Carrie Fisher and her mom Debbie Reynolds lived next door to each other in Beverly Hills -- now Carrie’s only child Billie Lourd is combining the two homes into an estate where she’ll live with fiance Austen Rydell and their newborn son Kingston 

Page 16: John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John grew close while co-starring in the hit 1978 musical Grease and that bond has supported them through thick and thin for four decades 

Page 18: An Ohio man who lost his high school ring while washing his car in 1967 was reunited with it thanks to a good-hearted guy with a metal detector 

Page 19: A whole community in upstate New York had been looking for a lost dog for ten days when a man with a drone stepped in and saved the day 

Page 20: Cover Story -- John F. Kennedy and Frank Sinatra, along with the legendary Rat Pack, were the best of friends until JFK was elected president and then he and his powerful clan crushed them -- in early 1960 then-Sen. Kennedy was running for president and associating with the Rat Pack which consisted of Sinatra, Dean Martin, Joey Bishop, Peter Lawford and Sammy Davis Jr. made him look cool and it also helped fund his campaign -- JFK won the presidency and a thrilled Sinatra built an elaborate communications system and a helipad at his Palm Springs home in expectation of a visit but after the election Sinatra found himself outside the inner circle because Jackie Kennedy despised the singer and didn’t want him anywhere near the White House and Sinatra flaunted his friendships with crime bosses and JFK’s brother Robert Kennedy was the attorney general

Page 22: It’s been a little over a year since Felicity Huffman was released from prison after serving time for her role in the college admissions scandal but she’s starting to get her life and career back on track -- initially Felicity was nervous about working again given the controversy and everything that went down but she shouldn’t have worried so much -- she has landed a part in an upcoming pilot in which she’ll play a widowed owner of a Triple-A baseball team -- Hollywood has a short memory and people have been very forgiving towards her 

Page 24: A church in Iowa bought and forgave a staggering $5 million in medical debt for people across the state 

Page 25: Myths about digestion revealed 

Page 26: 100 ways to 100 years -- you can live longer by following these simple suggestions 

Page 32: Star Dreams -- what celebs wanted to be when they grew up -- Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, Jennifer Lawrence, Reese Witherspoon, James Earl Jones, Matthew McConaughey, George Clooney, Julia Roberts, Tony Danza, Goldie Hawn 

Page 35: Winter Beauty Tips -- stay soft and smooth during the cold months 

Page 40: Happy birthday to legendary singer Dionne Warwick who turned 80 years old on December 12 and couldn’t be happier 

Page 42: Tony’s Mystic World -- the power of people 

Page 44: Eyes on the Stars -- Jerry O’Connell with his dog outside his home in L.A. (picture), Gordon Ramsay (picture), when model Lauren Hutton was first starting out she was told to fix her teeth so instead she used a type of wax called mortician’s wax and stuck it between her two front teeth, Dakota Johnson and Chris Martin engaged, two days after the birth of his son Luca Patrick singer Robin Thicke paid tribute to his late dad Alan Thicke, production on Ted Danson’s latest Tinseltown project Mr. Mayor has been disrupted by COVID-19

Page 45: Chrissy Metz singing on the Hallmark Channel (picture), Christopher Walken says he’s never owned a computer or a mobile phone, country icons sing praises of Charley Pride 

Page 46: A man in Maine met his biological dad for the first time at 43 years old and decided to recreate the scene from Elf 

Page 47: Collect Them All -- weird wonderful passions of the stars -- Johnny Depp, Penelope Cruz, Janet Jackson, Shaquille O’Neal, Tom Hanks, Claudia Schiffer, Demi Moore