#pops up at several family events and is last seen on a BOAT in the HAWKESBURY RIVER WHAT AN ICON

[edge-oftheworld]

no one is a tourist in sydney the way ashton is a tourist in sydney

[randadrives]

Salem - Witch City

"Still making history"

If you’re anything like me, a millennial spooky kid obsessed with Halloween, you probably also grew up watching the standard movies annually in October: Scream, Halloween, Beetlejuice, every zombie and Halloween (the franchise) movie possible, and the reigning classic, Hocus Pocus. If you’re one of those weirdos who hasn’t watched it, the family-friendly feature is set in Salem, MA – home of the famous witch trials of 1692. Thanks to the dense history, the town being a Maritime National Historic Site, as well as pop culture such as Bewitched, Hocus Pocus, and later the terrible Hubie Halloween (2020), the New England town of Salem has boasted an increase in tourism, causing an extra MILLION visitors just last October. Now I’m going to take you through my firsthand visit to this beautiful city I adored visiting.

 An old friend of mine and I decided we wanted to take a long weekend trip somewhere we could drive in the spring of 2023. Several people who had already been to Salem suggested going at a different time of year than the normal September/October time to avoid the crowds of tourists, as it can be quite congested and the prices of everything goes up as well. Early May sounded perfect for decent weather to experience all the city had to offer, and yes – Ten hours (Pittsburgh to Salem) is a perfectly acceptable distance to drive for a 4 day trip, in my opinion. We found an Airbnb (which may or may not have been haunted) in Marblehead, which was a 15-minute drive from downtown Salem. Marblehead is where most of Hubie Halloween was filmed, which may be a severely poorly rated Adam Sandler movie, but I still watched it 5 times. This aesthetic coastal town is rich in history. It’s arguably the birthplace of the U.S. Navy, and a great deal of the original architecture is still present today. We had a great time walking the streets and seeing normal businesses, such as dentists and law firms, in buildings marked with their original purpose and the year they were built, the oldest being 1663! Our first stop on the evening we arrived was the restaurant Sea Salt, because you know we were looking for seafood. If I had not taken photos, I honestly might not remember our experience here. The service was great, and the atmosphere was very nice. The food was a little pricey, but that was expected. I remember having fantastic Brussel sprouts as an appetizer, and tasty cocktails, but can’t tell you that much more about it. My favorite places to look for when I’m traveling are locally owned coffee shops and bakeries/donut shops, so in the morning I pulled up Google and found a café called Maria’s Java Sun that was just a 5 minute walk down the street. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that we ended up walking down there 3 mornings in a row for coffee and a breakfast sandwich or pastry! They were delightful. We had opted for an Airbnb because of course my two adventure dogs were making the trip with us, and I had to be sure they would be comfortable while we were away for a few hours at a time. It was a goal of mine for them to experience the ocean, so I looked up a dog-friendly beach nearby. The second morning we were there we took them to Devereux Beach just a short drive away. It was a Saturday, so the beach was full of families with A LOT of dogs. Mine are dog reactive, but we were able to get to a more secluded portion for some waves and sea salt to ourselves. Another staple of Marblehead that sticks out in my memory is our trip to the liquor store. I have never before this seen a liquor store of this massive proportion. By the end of our stay, my friend and I agreed we would visit the Marblehead area again in the future. In May, it was serene, the landscape was gorgeous, and there appeared to be a plethora of things to do there, many related to boating and fishing.

 Now the main, wicked event! On our first day driving into Salem, we had two main items on the schedule: the Satanic Temple headquarters, and a walking tour of the city. Other than that, we knew we would meander and do some exploring, as well as chow down on some seafood again. We drove to the Satanic Temple first because it was not in walking distance of other attractions. I take full responsibility for this idea, forcing my friend to play along with me, and I do not regret it. The towering, charcoal colored Victorian building was a funeral home before purchased by the organization. It was $13 each to enter as a non-member of the church, and we were not too sure what to expect. If you’re interested in who and what the organization is, I’ll let you do your own research as that could be a lengthy essay itself, but I’m a big fan. In short, the headquarters building is essentially an art gallery with some rotating and permanent exhibitions. I was enchanted by the art on display, captured many photos, and left with a few trinkets from the gift shop. I sat on the statue of Baphomet, I’m not sure what else could have made my visit any better! My friend was also pleasantly surprised by the experience, agreeing it was enjoyable and worth the stop.

Next was our walking tour, but first we had to tackle the issue of parking. The infrastructure of Salem is not necessarily built for the influx of tourists. We ended up parking in a parking garage near the Peabody Essex museum and decided that was it, we would be walking anywhere we needed to go from here, no matter how far. There was a visitor center across the street where I learned Salem is a Maritime National Historic Site. Pro tip: if you have the National Park Passport, you can get a stamp here! I didn’t bring mine, so I bought one of the .99 cent sticker sheets to take a stamp with me.  

As much as I would have loved to do an after-dark, ghostly tour, we both knew at our big age we would be back at the Airbnb watching documentaries at that point in the night. I let my friend do the online research and choose the walking tour, so I can’t remember which it was, but there are so many that you probably can’t go wrong with choosing. We met our group at the Town Hall. It was a small group led by a Salem native who was knowledgeable and passionate about the history of the city. From here we saw key spots such as the Bewitched sculpture, the Witch House, several churches, buildings that had been used by affluent figures of society, where they would hold parties and meetings, the Ropes Mansion, ending at the old cemetery and monument dedicated to those that were killed for allegations of witchcraft. It was interesting to have someone who grew up here share the information, and she had so much to add we probably could not have learned from Google. And she shared with us all the ghost stories! As we walked the city, we also couldn’t help but gush over all the residents, not just the businesses, who seemed to embrace the culture and had witchy decorations up that time of year. At the end of the tour, we insisted she tell us the best spot to go for a lobster roll and she was happy to oblige.

This leads me to my favorite stop for food, The Lobster Shanty. Looking online, I believe there are two different restaurants called the same name, but this one appeared to be a dive bar, full of locals, cheesy coastal décor, and a boisterous bartender who seemed more than happy to have us there. The lobster rolls were amazing, as were the cocktails we ordered, and I’m grateful our guide suggested this little place over the best rated online, which was a fancy (and extremely expensive looking) restaurant we would not have been as comfortable in. Several other places we stopped for drinks while exploring that weekend were The Derby, a horse racing themed bar that we had just missed a drag show in, and Rockafella’s, a casual restaurant that claims many hauntings from local spirits, and not just the liquor type. My friend’s favorite restaurant we went to was the Howling Taqueria, where we enjoyed steak quesadillas and blood orange palomas at the suggestion of our waiter. We ended that evening with a couple episodes of “I Survived” and wine on the couch with the dogs, naturally.

The next day, after our Maria’s and beach stop, I had to be the nerd I am and go to the Salem Police Department to trade patches. So far, I believe they do have the most badass patch with a witch on it. Then we took in some of the Salem Witch Village shops. There were metaphysical stores, tourist traps of souvenirs, antiques shops, gift/specialty stores, art galleries, and very niche horror themed stores. One store I was upset with myself for passing on was Black Craft, as I didn’t realize the largest witch statue is actually within the building. I was afraid of spending too much money unnecessarily on clothing!

We cut off our browsing for a scheduled appointment time we had with the Salem Witch Museum. The museum seemed to be busy at every time of day, so if you make this part of your sightseeing, be prepared for large crowds. Tickets were $17.50 each for adults and nonrefundable. It’s a massive, visually appealing building, and not actually a museum but more of a theatrical production and history lesson. To be completely transparent, I didn’t learn anything new that I hadn’t already learned from our walking tour or just reading information around the city. Also, it was a rushed, guided tour. We were disappointed we did not get to take our time in the portion where there were artifacts to look at. The entire thing just seemed like they wanted to herd us in and out as fast as possible, and the only portion we weren’t pushed through was the gift shop at the end. I would not suggest this one for small children, as there are some graphic depictions of the hangings (and rock smashings) of the victims of the trials. I personally would not say this stop is worth the price and time.

We had seen most of what we set out to at this point, so we decided fuck it – we are in Salem, let’s go do something witchy. We chose a random metaphysical shop to go have our tarot cards read, and lucked out because the two mediums were available at the same time. It was roughly $40 each, which seemed to be the standard when I was comparing shops. I had a really fun reading with a young woman who was empathetic, bright, and obviously had a great time interacting with the people who came to her. She told me I could record my reading if I wished, and I regret not doing so! I encourage embracing being a tourist once in a while and support the local economy.

We went to Salem Common to take a walk and some photos, and then found an arcade/bar to have a drink and round off the night. It felt appropriate to shoot some zombies while in Salem, even if guns were not quite Winifred Sanderson’s style. Alas, we were physically exhausted and probably slightly overstimulated from being in public so much, so left right before another drag show started. I was pretty torn on staying for it, but wine and a movie, along with sweatpants, were just too inviting. It was a successful second and last full day in Salem. Due to the recent increase in tourism, the city is strongly urging visitors in September and October to NOT drive into Salem. Commuter rail services have been expanded upon, and there is also the Salem Ferry to utilize. If I were you, I would choose a different time of year. There is still just as much Halloween magic to experience in the area when it isn’t the spooky season, less lines, and lower prices for lodging. If you are going to drive or fly in, there are many Airbnb’s, hotels, and even an RV park to stay in. As always, I emphasize being kind to the locals. This is their home, even if it is a bucket list item or a novelty to you. It especially hit hard when we were at crosswalks and school buses full of children were passing by. I’m sure it can be frustrating, or even annoying, to always have so many people on the streets gawking and taking photos. Be kind, use your manners, and tip your servers! Travel can be a welcoming experience for all involved when every party puts the effort in, and maybe form a calming circle if you need to.

[reversemoon255]

(From September 2020 to February 2021, I worked on a Pokémon themed Dungeons and Dragons campaign for a few friends. We didn’t get very far, but I put a significant amount of work into the world, story, and several Pokémon that would appear throughout, including an original set of starters. I want to to leave some record of my work, so I thought I’d write a few summary posts. And while I designed these Pokémon, their fantastic art was done by @extyrannomon on Twitter. I highly recommend you check them out.)

Dungeons 'n' Dragonites - Phase 1: Hello Stelopy City

Our story starts in Stelopy City, located in the Wellou Region. We get a brief introduction from DJ Tomomitsu, a radio host, before each player got their own brief story segments. Our first player was Ethan, as aspiring chef, who lived on campus at his high school. Ethan was approached by one of his dorm mates with a favor (to get him out of the building), as well as having an attractive girl meandering around the kitchen (if he wished to try flaunting his culinary skills). He would then get to choose to either finish up his side-quest or go to the local fisher's market, with him transitioning between those locations taking him to the area where he would meet his starter Pokémon:

"As you enter the alleyway, the walls are covered floor-to-ceiling in moss that seem to appear as soon as the shadows overtake the sunlight. The farther you walk, the more weeds you see popping through the cracks. Once you reach the half-way point, you come to a small open space. With the sunlight now flickering down through the plants brave enough to venture off the verdant walls, the entire area shines a bright, emerald green. In the center of this area is a decently sized fountain. It's no longer flowing, but there's a decent amount of rain water filling it up close to the brim. As you approach it, even through the murky iridescent waters, you can see a thick, fuzzy amount of lichen growing all throughout the inside of the basin. As you pass by the fountain, you hear an audible sploosh. Do you turn around? (Y/N)"

There he would meet the first of our new Starter, the Grass-Type Flymph. I kept it secret that I was doing original Starters. Part of my personal excitement in planning everything was the eventual reveal of these designs I had created. Kept me going when things started feeling like a grind.

Our second player, Johnny, started off at home, woken by his father asking him to run an errand. After being able to talk to his family a bit, he proceeded to a somewhat beaten-up house on the edge of the Pokémon-overrun abandoned district where he would receive some boat parts before leaving and the sidewalk underneath him collapses. Stumbling around the abandoned subway tunnels for a bit, he would run into our second Starter, the Fire-Type Calfyre.

Johnny's player wanted to become an entertainer, which didn't give me a lot to work session one, so a lot of his opener was focused on expanding the world and giving everyone an idea of areas they would be exploring later.

Third was Orion who had a quiet morning at home before being provoked via text messages from his siblings to chase down a mysterious "Wailord in a Top Hat." This pursuit would also lead him to the fisher's market and the nearby docks, where, after just catching sight of his quarry, he would encounter the Water-Starter Squisque.

Orion's player wanted a lot of his story to be based on his relationship with his father, so most of his opening was based on reinforcing his family dynamic. Not home, everyone’s busy, focus on work. This particular Saturday was strange in that Orion didn’t have anything going on.

Our last player was Arthur, who also lived on campus. While our other three players started their segments in bed, Arthur was playing lacrosse. After having an opportunity to show off (or fail), he would be told by a friend that he had upset his girlfriend that morning (kitchen girl from Ethan's story), and needed Arthur to pick up her favorite dessert while he attempted to woo her for the rest of the day. After doing so (while being given a chance to explore some of the local stores) he encountered a hungry Houndoom who proceeds to chase him up a fire escape. Once up there he encountered our final Starter, the Fairy-Type Utaw.

After each player met their Starters, they would have a brief tutorial battle against three Pokémon they were advantageous against before running into each other, and were subsequently arrested for "stealing" Pokémon, which would cap session one.

=====

Let's talk design. Stelopy City is loosely based on Chicago, is a portmanteau of "Steel Canopy," and Wellou is a joke on Illinois. The vast majority of the campaign was to take place in this location. Most of my players had very busy schedules (so busy it took us three sessions to get through the above opener), so DJ Tomomitsu was a way for me to easily start each session with a list of things to do (side-quests), and they as a group could decide which they were the most interested in based on time. Tomomitsu himself was based on DJ Sagara from Kamen Rider Gaim, with Tomomitsu being the name of the actor who played him.

As for the starters, I tried to stick to the reoccurring themes we’ve seen over the past 8 Generations. Flymph's name is a portmanteau of Dragonfly, Errol Flynn, and Nymph (the larval form of a Dragonfly). He's meant to be a special attacker, but, like an early DND Wizard, doesn't have access to a lot of them so he brandishes his sword-like arms to intimidate his foes instead. His diet consists entirely of lichens, algae, and similar flora, storing them in his transparent stomach pouches, and can be seen sunbathing in the water, belly up, feeding the plant matter the sunlight they need to grow. He also does not like Bug-Types, and isn’t Bug himself because of Grass/Bug’s myriad of weaknesses (for balancing), plus he changes Types after his first evolution. The theme of Grass Starters is extinction, which won’t become clear until his final evolution, but you may be able to guess how he relates.

Fire Starters are themed after the Chinese Zodiac, and of the remaining four yet to be used (including Snake, Ram, and Horse), I went with Ox. Calfyre's name is a play on Calf and Fire, and is meant to play like a Barbarian. When it comes to personality he's very timid and unsure of himself like a first-time DND player might be acting in a group. Unlike most Fire-Types, Calfyre lacks a Flame Sac. Instead, his spiral horns are filled with a freon-like liquid that, when swirled, rapidly absorbs energy from the air, which he uses for attacks. This chills the air around him, and makes him one of the few Fire-Types that are cold to the touch. Which sucks, because he’s a snugly sleeper.

Water Starters are usually themed after a weapon or character class. This usually shows in the later evolutions, but it's pretty obvious Squisque (a portmanteau of Squirt, Squire, and Bisque) is themed off a lance and shield. He's a paladin in both role and personality, charging in at the slightest sign of trouble, even if there isn't any real danger. It's the typical non-nuanced idea of what people think when they hear "Paladin." He was to a degree supposed to play a catalyst role, charging into situations the players may not want to in order to force them into helping people or combat if need be. He was also the first design I settled on, being based on an old Kaijin idea I had of a lobster-knight using its asymmetrical claws as different medieval weapons.

Utaw is unique, not just in that he was a fourth or Fairy Starter, but in conception. I was only supposed to have three players, but ended up with four. As such, his design is responsive to the others. Why a dinosaur? Because I had a mammal, crustacean, and bug, was unsure if I wanted a bird or reptile, and decided to meet half-way. Why is he Fairy? Because it has very little interaction with Fire, Water, and Grass, while still having defined weaknesses and resistances to certain types. (Also, this player wanted a Dragon-Type.) He’s based on a Utahraptor, hence the name, and is misspelled to include “Claw” or “Caw.” He’s meant to play team Bard, and uses sound moves. As for personality, he's a bit of a birdbrain who enjoys fighting. Not maliciously; it’s just fun, again acting like a new DND player who’s more interested in combat than role playing.

The idea with the personalities was that each Pokémon was supposed to start out like a rookie DND player on their first campaign. Not knowing how to play their class, being uncomfortable acting in front of a group, leaning too hard into your role without bending, or just fighting everything you see without diplomacy. It felt like a fun extra layer to each of these Pokémon that tied them just as much into the DND side of things as the Pokémon.

=====

Back to our story, after being briefly detained (mostly as an excuse to give the players time to introduce themselves to each other, something my DMs have struggled with), they meet Professor(-in-training) Bianca. The four Pokémon had been found by Silph Co., and had decided to donate them to the Unovan Pokémon Research Lab. However, after seeing the Pokémon interacting with these people, Bianca decides to give them up instead. "Pokémon should be with people," after all.

I had three side quests set up following this (after they all go to the DMV to get their Trainer's licenses). The first was a general "there's wild Pokémon here" quest where they could train and catch things. There was a sale at the mall where they could get some cheap held items and have their first trainer battle, and an event at the fisher's market where they could win some free items and would lead into their first dungeon.

The dungeon was what I was hoping they would pick, and would have them chase a group of Poipole through a warehouse, with them having different battles if they chose to enter from the front or the back. After defeating them, the Poipole would be sucked through a spontaneously generating Ultra Wormhole, with a high enough perception check revealing a strange laugh, or on a 20 have them catch a glimpse of a grey Charizard O_O

From there it was a matter of coming up with (or possibly recycling unused) side-quests until we reached the point where the Starters were about to evolve. I had a few things planned; introductions to a few reoccurring NPCs, a field trip to the local museum where they would be able to catch a Yamask (and possibly learn something about the origins of their Starters), and a raid battle against a group of Onix who would recur through the campaign.

The end of Phase 1 would come about with another dungeon. In the middle of the night, Ethan and Arthur would be awoken by their Pokémon to a group of Durant having busted through the floor of the dorm and raiding their kitchen. Easily driving them off, their Pokémon would encourage them to pursue. Later, full party in toe, the four of them would explore the Duranthill. There would be a number of possible encounters, but only one mandatory fight before reaching the depths. In said encounter, while being surrounded by a group of Durant, they would receive unexpected help from this Pokémon:

With some interpretation, they would discover that this Princess Durant was afraid for the sake of her colony. A new queen had taken up residence there, and was commanding the Durant to attack the surface and steal food for her. With additional party member in toe, they would descend further with better direction, eventually discovering the lair of the Queen Durant...

[jarienn972]

I Remember it Well

I know that I should have been working on the last chapter of my CSSNS story, A Simple Spell, but whether it was due to the influence of Valentine’s Day last week or thoughts of my own wedding anniversary this week, this little bit of angsty fluff got stuck in my head and I just had to write it.  This is a little flashback AU where Deputy Emma Swan reminiscences about the fateful Valentine's Day when responding to a serious accident became more than just a job. It’s mostly fluff but there is some mildly graphic description of a vehicle accident and it's aftermath.  It’s intentionally a little choppy as I wanted it to read like little bits of memories popping into Emma’s head. (This was as a quick write and is unbeta'd so please forgive any typos. Edited to add links.)

AO3  FF.net

She should have been getting dressed but couldn’t get that afternoon out of her mind for some reason.  The afternoon that had changed everything about how she’d perceived Killian Jones and her memories of the incident that brought them together were just as vivid now as they’d been three years ago.

Three years ago tonight. The anniversary of that fateful day and her brain wanted her to experience it all over again.  The day she’d nearly lost the love of her life before she’d even found him.

2017

Of course she was the one stuck working on Valentine’s Day.  She was the only deputy in the Storybrooke, Maine Sheriff’s department who was single and everyone knew that Emma Swan didn’t have a date.  She wasn’t really resentful of the fact that she was single or the fact that she’d been scheduled to work tonight, it was more hurtful that everybody just automatically assumed she’d be spending another Valentine’s alone.  

She’d had boyfriends.  A few of them, at least. So she hadn’t dated anyone steady since high school… It wasn’t that big of a deal.  She could have found a date for tonight if she’d wanted to, but she hadn’t bothered. David and his wife Mary Margaret were expecting so this would be their last Valentine’s Day without needing a babysitter for the next decade.  Emma wouldn’t have denied them a quiet evening. And Graham - he and Ruby had been getting pretty serious since they’d started dating last fall and because Ruby was one of her best friends, Emma couldn’t say no to her. (And she’d get all of the salacious details later because Ruby wasn’t one to keep exploits to herself.  The stories that girl could tell!)

So, here she was - sitting at her desk listening to her fellow deputies hash out their lovey-dovey plans for tonight while she’d be here awaiting the inevitable drunken domestic disturbance calls later when romantic plans begin to go awry.  It was almost an annual event that her buddy, Leroy, would be spending the night sobering up in holding. Ah the things she had to look forward to she mused as she overheard David confirming a dinner reservation at Tony’s.

The call came in at a little after 4 that afternoon.  Car versus motorcycle on Main Street. According to the eyewitness who phoned in the report, there were serious injuries involved.  An ambulance had already been dispatched to the scene by the 911 operator and they needed law enforcement. Emma already knew all of this though because the accident site was only a block and a half from the Sheriff’s station.  She’d heard the squealing tires and the dull thud that followed. Seconds later, she was out the door trying to see what had happened while concerned citizens rushed toward the accident scene. Emma’s radio crackled with information relayed by the emergency operator, but she was already seeing the events unfolding before her as she elbowed her way to the front of the crowd.

Half of the population of Storybrooke must have been gathered in the street, blocking her view.  The first thing she could make out was the smashed rear door on the driver’s side of a dark blue sedan.  The young woman who’d apparently been driving the vehicle was standing off to the side, visibly shaken as strangers attempted to calm her.  It wasn’t until Emma shoved her way into the clearing that she noticed the mangled motorcycle and the unfortunate man pinned beneath it.  

The bike’s front axle and wheel were bent nearly 90 degrees from where they should have been.  One of the handlebars had been sheared off along with the mirror and the windshield was shattered, but that wasn’t the worst of the carnage.  Most of the body of the motorcycle was resting atop its unconscious operator’s leather-clad left leg. The way the victim was laying in the street suggested that he’d made a drastic turn to the left in hopes of avoiding colliding with the car head on but there was no doubt that he’d suffered the brunt of it.

Emma had immediately known the man’s identity.  She’d recognized what was left of the Harley Davidson’s custom paint job - the skull and crossbones flag emblazoned across the fuel tank.  She also knew that jet black leather jacket. The one that belonged to the retired Royal Navy lieutenant turned History teacher, Killian Jones.  He’d only been in Storybrooke for a couple of years, having accepted a teaching position here after leaving the Royal Navy. Her path had only crossed with the handsome Englishman’s a few times but she knew he was a loner who lived on a boat down at the harbor.  By all accounts, he was an excellent teacher who spoke at least 5 languages, but he kept to himself outside of the school. Rumor had it that he had a dark past, but Emma had only seen a brooding, not very social introvert who either took to the local highways on his motorcycle or sailed out into the open sea every weekend.  No one had really gotten close enough to ask why.

She tasked herself with crowd control as Storybrooke’s lone fire truck and paramedic unit arrived on scene.  She shouted at gawkers to move back to the sidewalk until her voice was hoarse. Why were people so obnoxious?  She made sure that the rescue crews had plenty of room to do their job as she tried to interview witnesses for her report.  So far, all of the stories were the same: teenager driving the sedan had made a left turn onto Main Street from 2nd Avenue but hadn’t seen the motorcycle.  She’d tried to stop but was already too far into the intersection. Jones had swerved to not strike the vehicle head on, but couldn’t escape her path in time. He’d broadsided the vehicle with his bike, rotating the front axle further than mechanical limits allowed before it toppled over onto his leg, pinning him to the asphalt.

It had been no easy feat to remove the motorcycle wreckage from atop Killian Jones’ leg, but with the assistance of a tow truck winch, the rescue crew freed him about twenty minutes later.  Paramedics did their best to immobilize him until they could get a clearer look at his injuries, finding his left leg twisted unnaturally and unsurprisingly fractured just below the knee. They maneuvered him cautiously onto his back, suspecting fractured ribs that had possibly punctured his lung.  They placed a stiff plastic collar around his neck to stabilize his head before even attempting to remove his helmet although his head seemed the least problematic at the moment.  

The injury that most concerned them had been hidden from view until Jones had been rolled onto his back and even from her vantage point, Emma could see it.  When the motorcycle had struck the pavement at nearly 20MPH, the same force that had torn off the left handlebar and side mirror had also severed Jones’ left hand at the wrist.  Emma’s breath hitched in her chest for a few seconds at the macabre sight before her. Her heart was suddenly breaking for this man she barely knew as she and the rescue crew did their best to keep onlookers back.  

In minutes, the paramedics had him loaded into the back of the waiting ambulance and whisked him off to Storybrooke hospital.  Emma had to remain at the accident scene for another half an hour while the damaged car and totaled motorcycle were carted away.  She took photographs of the scene before anything was removed, then helped sweep up the broken safety glass and metal shards littering the street.  Nearly an hour after the accident had occurred, she had to write out the traffic ticket and hand it to the traumatized teenaged driver before releasing the girl to her parents and opening the street to traffic again.  Good thing this was a small town so she didn’t have to contend with a gridlock of other vehicles. Now the folks of Storybrooke could get back to their regularly scheduled Valentine’s Day plans while she returned to the station to write up her report.  

**********

Long after her reports were filed and the station was locked up for the night, Emma found herself nearly dozing off in the hospital’s waiting room.  Officially, she was here to get a statement from Killian Jones when he was coherent enough to answer her questions. But that wasn’t the only reason she was sitting here at nearly 11PM on Valentine’s night.  She just felt compelled to be here. Was it pity that he had no family to check in on him or was she feeling something else?   She hardly knew him. She should be heading home after a long day at work - a day made even longer by the accident investigation and clean up... and all of those witness statements… What was she doing here?

She’d nearly drifted off to sleep when a nurse approached to let her know that Jones was alert.  He was still in serious condition with three fractured ribs, a punctured left lung and ruptured spleen.  What resonated with her most was the fact that the surgeon couldn’t reattach his severed hand. Emma would be allowed a few minutes to get a statement, but she was warned that he’d probably be a little drowsy and might not be able to recall much of his ordeal.  She didn’t really care though. In truth, she had all of the information she needed. She knew he wasn’t at fault for the accident. Maybe she just needed to tell him that in person...

Maybe she just needed to see for herself that he was going to be alright.

Emma wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or just lying there with his eyes closed when she entered the room so she pushed the door closed as quietly as she could. She took a seat in a chair at the foot of the bed and just watched him for a few minutes.  Even battered and bruised, he was still roguishly handsome and she had to chastise herself for staring (although if teachers had looked like this when she was in school, maybe she’d have actually paid attention).  

Killian took a deep breath, grimacing at the accompanying discomfort.  He recalled someone in blue scrubs telling him about broken ribs and something about a punctured lung, but the morphine-induced haze in his brain wasn’t processing everything yet.  There were flashes of a car and perhaps a collision? That was why everything hurt, right? He could hear a faint beeping sound off to his left and something was making his hand itchy.  His eyes flickered open to take in his surroundings and he immediately remembered he was in a hospital room - and he wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t sure whether he should be embarrassed by his bedraggled appearance or grateful for the company as he noticed the woman across the room.  An awkward grin crossed his lips as he tried to feign an air of self-confidence. He couldn’t quite make out her face, but she wasn’t dressed like any of the medical staff.  All he really could see was a halo of blonde locks that had him questioning if she was an angel here to usher him into the afterlife, although were that the case, he shouldn’t be in so much pain…

“I’m sorry,” Emma apologized.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No apologies necessary, lass,” Killian replied as best he could, his voice deep and raspy as it escaped his parched throat.  “Although I appear to be at a loss as to why you’re here… I can’t say that I’m my most dashingly handsome at the moment…”

Was he really this much of an egomaniac or was he genuinely trying to flirt with her right now?  

“I’m Deputy Emma Swan of the Storybrooke Sheriff’s department.  You were involved in an accident this afternoon and I just wanted to follow up on your condition and get a statement from you, if you’re feeling up to it?”

“Does everyone get such personalized attention from the Sheriff’s deputies here?”

“Not everyone,” she responded sheepishly, scrambling to think of something that wouldn’t sound as though she held some weird obsession.  “I uh…, I knew you didn’t have any family here so… so I thought you might appreciate the company…”

“If you’re not put off by my ragged appearance and obvious shortcomings, then yes, I appreciate the company.”

“You honestly look pretty good for someone who just crashed his motorcycle into the side of a car.”

“Ah...so it wasn’t just a dream…,” he sighed.

“Afraid not.”

“My bike?”

“Totaled,” she replied, immediately regretting her bluntness.  “Sorry, I should have been more tactful with that.”

“There’s no need to be gentle.  It’s hardly my first tragedy…”

“How much do you remember about the incident?”

“I was riding down Main Street, heading home after work and a car pulled out in front of me.  I tried to maneuver around the vehicle, but there wasn’t time…”

“The driver didn’t see you,” Emma explained.

“No, they certainly did not…” he responded, now alert enough to realize that his left arm was immobilized and he vaguely recalled the doctor’s words.  Hand severely mangled and severed at the wrist by blunt force.  Yeah - blunt force of striking asphalt at 20MPH…

“Are you alright?”  Emma wondered as she sensed him growing quiet. “I should probably go…You suffered some pretty nasty injuries and I’m sure you need some rest…I’m really sorry they couldn’t save your hand though…” She regretted those words the moment they crossed her lips.  “Let me get out of here before I shove my foot in my mouth again…”

“No, please, Emma - I’d like you to stay…” he assured her. “If you’re not horrified by the sight of me…”

“Should I be?  You don’t think I’ve seen bruised and bloodied accident victims before?  Like I said earlier, you look pretty good for someone who just slammed into a car…”

“Why, Deputy - a gentleman might take that as you flirting with me...”  Emma flushed with embarrassment as his statement caught her off guard. She glanced over to the bed to catch the lopsided smirk stretching across his face.  Was this guy for real?  “It may be that I’m a smidge under the influence of these painkillers, but dare I say that you do look quite beautiful this evening...”

“Now, who’s doing the flirting, Mister?” she chuckled, the reddening of her cheeks even more evident now. “Maybe it’s just some lovey-dovey Valentine’s influence...wait...is it still Valentine’s Day?” Emma questioned herself as she glanced up at the clock mounted on the wall.  11:48PM. “I guess it is still Valentine’s Day - for a few more minutes at least…”

“Deputy Swan - exactly how long have you been sitting over there?” Killian wondered, not understanding why such a gorgeous woman would be spending Valentine’s Day waiting for a wounded and now deformed man to awaken.

“Well...here?  Maybe half an hour or so.  They wouldn’t let me in to see you until you woke up since I’m technically here to get your statement…”

“You didn’t spoil your plans for this evening on my behalf, did you?”

“Uh, no,” she replied shyly, probably more embarrassed to reveal she hadn’t had a date than she’d been during their mutual flirtation moments ago.  “I was on duty tonight because I was the only one in the department without a date.”

“Ah, I see…,” he mused. “Well, Love, if you’re not horrified by the current state of my being, perhaps we could enjoy the remainder of this fabricated holiday together?”

“You’re asking me to be your Valentine’s date while you’re lying there all banged up and half stoned on morphine?”

“If you’ll have me…” he smiled as Emma stood, taking a few tentative steps closer to the bed while Killian extended his uninjured hand towards her.  Their paths had crossed a couple of times since he’d arrived in Storybrooke, but he’d never really taken time to appreciate her beauty - her hair the color of spun gold and eyes that sparkled like twin emeralds.  

She didn’t know how to respond to his offer at first, eyes dipping to the floor as she contemplated the awkwardness of the situation.  Would she be taking advantage of a wounded man if she said yes or would she look like a judgemental bitch if she said no? She hadn’t even yet considered how unprofessional this could appear but to hell with it all, she told herself at last as she wrapped her fingers around his. “Alright - for the next ten minutes, I’ll be your Valentine.”

“Good,” he grinned, a hopeful twinkle brightening his blue eyes. “And I promise you, the next one will be far better.”

“You’re pretty sure of yourself there, buddy,” she teased him as a little giggle escaped her throat.  “You don’t even know me.”

“Well then, I’d very much like to get to know you, Ms. Swan.  I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t even know where to start…”

“How about like this:  Greetings, I’m Killian Jones and it is a pleasure to meet you…”

Present Day

“Are you nearly ready, Love?” Emma heard Killian shouting from downstairs. “Our reservation is in twenty minutes and you can be assured that Tony won’t hold the table…”

She shook her head as she rooted around inside her jewelry box in search of her other earring.  She couldn’t go without it, not tonight. The emerald solitaires were his favorite as he always insisted that they matched her eyes.  It was pure BS but she still appreciated the flattery. All wouldn’t be lost if she couldn’t locate the earring though. She knew he’d be too preoccupied staring at her curves in the little black cocktail dress she’d bought for tonight and he wouldn’t see it until she removed her coat at the restaurant.  She’d never get him out of the house if he saw it too soon.

“”I’m just looking for my earring.  I’ll be right down,” she shouted back from their second floor bedroom.  “Besides, I’m the Sheriff. Tony wouldn’t dare give up my table tonight.”

“Are you willing to take that chance?” she heard him ask as her fingertips finally located the second earring.  She quickly donned it and checked her makeup in the vanity mirror one last time. Everything still looked perfect so she grabbed her black wool dress coat from atop the bed and tugged it on, buttoning it while descending the stairs.

At the bottom of the staircase, Killian was impatiently awaiting her, attired head to toe in black, save for the crimson hue of the vest she noticed peeking out from beneath his leather coat.  Even three years later, he could still manage to hitch her breath in her throat and give her butterflies in all the right places.

“I took a chance on you, didn’t I?” she answered his rhetorical question as she slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him close.  “I still remember that night�� Can you believe that its been three years already?” The same lopsided smirk that she remembered so well crossed his face just before his lips caught hers, responding with a passionate kiss that she didn’t want to end.  “Now we’re really going to be late…” she laughed as they embraced each other breathlessly.

“To hell with dinner then,” he responded, arms encircling her even tighter as he sported a salacious grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Swan.”

She pressed her lips back into his, not caring that her deep wine tinted lipstick was smearing everywhere. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Killian,” she murmured into his kiss.

[purplesurveys]

797

What is your favorite thing to do on your phone? Fucking around on social media like a true Gen Z-er would, lmao. I have several games that I’d play occasionally, but most of the time I just check the same three apps – Messenger, Facebook, and Twitter. Do you know what you are going to be for Halloween this year? If so, what? I don’t even know if I have plans for the rest of the year. Do you still go trick-or-treating, and if so, how old are you? The last time we did was 2015, when we were 17. Nowadays we just have costume parties. Which Disney princess resembles you the most? At the moment it’s probably Moana, but I heard they’re making a Southeast Asian Disney princess so I’m waiting for her :) What color was your first phone? I’m not sure what the model’s actual color was because it was already in a Winnie the Pooh case when I got it as a present, but the case itself was red.

Was your first phone a flip phone? No, it was one of the Nokia ones with a slightly green screen and the Snake game on it. Have you ever butt dialed someone? I don’t think so. It’s normally the other way around. What is your favorite pizza parlor? We don’t have many of that around here; most places serve a little bit of everything with pizzas usually having its own section on the menu. That said, my favorite place to get pizza is Mama Lou’s if I have some cash on me and want to be fancy, and Yellow Cab if I want fast food pizza but still quality pizza. What is an old website that closed down that you miss? I’m pretty sure Tumblr shut down my old survey blog, the one I’ve had since 2012 or 2013, and I’m very bummed out by it. It’s also weird to me because I have a blog that’s been inactive for much longer and that one is still up... so I don’t know why they would shut down the blog that served as my journal during my teen years. I occasionally look back on it to see how I was doing then and compare it to who I am now, so it sucks that I can’t do that anymore. If you're a girl, have you ever had an embarrassing period story? I guess, but I’ve also reached a point where I’ve stopped seeing period mishaps as embarrassing. Stuff like that just happens sometimes, and I can’t be around people who are going to be babies about it. ...If so, what happened? The worst instance was leaking during a PE workout and my classmate pointing it out for me, and then having to change into denim jeans for the rest of the workout since that was the only other pair of bottoms I had.  What was your worst experience in high school? I can remember one but I don’t wanna relive my anxieties here by writing it in full detail so no thanks. What was your high school's mascot? We don’t have a mascot; we only had colors. Do you listen to Grace VanderWaal? Only if she’s on the radio. I don’t dislike her but I also don’t think I’ve ever looked up her music voluntarily. ...if yes, what's your favorite song of hers? I’m not familiar with her song titles. I’ve caught some songs that I liked but I wouldn’t be able to tell you which ones they were. Do you watch America's Got Talent? Only the compilation videos they’ve got on YouTube. Which country has the best accent? I don’t really rank accents lol Did you cry at your high school graduation? I cried the night before. I find that I don’t usually cry when an event that’s supposed to be emotional is happening, but I do cry before or after it. Did you cry at your college graduation (if applicable)? LOL if applicable, fucking same. I think I’ll mostly be relieved when it finally happens because I’m expecting it to keep getting postponed for now. Do your parents try to stop you from chasing your dreams? No, but they’re also realistic. I tried to court my dad about having an internship with WWE at Connecticut, and he was less than enthusiastic about it which I completely understood. What dreams have stuck with you since childhood? My dream house, to go to Wrestlemania, and to have a lot of money hahaha. Who is a former friend that you wish would come back into your life? Egh, I feel like the way life has turned out has been for the best and I’m currently not wishing any of my former friends back. I suppose it would be nice to have my relationship with Macy back, though. Have you ever been in a serious romantic relationship? Yes, like the one I’m in now. Who was your favorite Spice Girl? I didn’t have one but I did have a soft spot for Victoria Beckham since she’s always in fashion magazines and also because her family has always looked so happy. But I never really liked her as part of the group? because I knew about Victoria before I knew about the Spice Girls. Sorryyy please put your pitchforks down I was born in 1998 :(( <333 Did you ever want to be in a band or music group? No. What instrument did you play in the marching band? We don’t have a club like that here. If you could take any one type of dance class right now, what kind you take? Ballet. Who got kicked off of your favorite talent show that you were mad about? There were a gazillion unfair eliminations on American Idol but I remember being most pissed off over Scotty McCreery’s win and Pia Toscano’s elimination. Do you own the entire series on DVD of any TV show? If so, what? I have a bootleg box set of the 80s sitcom Perfect Strangers, but other than that I’ve been able to watch TV shows via torrent or Netflix, soooo. What show did you always want to be on when you were a kid? I wanted to be a part of the dancing audience on Hi-5, and to be dumped with slime at the Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards lol. Can you tell the difference between Mary-Kate and Ashley? No. Who is your favorite set of twins? Seoeon and Seojun from The Return of Superman. What is the stupidest baby name you have heard recently? Welp, nothing has beaten Covid Bryant yet... What is the grossest thing you have ever vomited up? Nothing too gross. Just alcohol. Have you ever thrown up in public, in front of someone else? Yes. The sensation of puking terrifies me so there’ve been a few times I asked Gabie to go to the Pop-Up washroom with me, enter a stall also with me, and to calm me down while I throw up D: ...If yes, was it embarrassing? I don’t find it embarrassing because she’s my girlfriend. I’d never ask anyone else to do the same thing for me though. Did you ever take your dog to school? Just once, for my graduation shoot. Name one person you know who had a baby in high school. No one in my batch had a baby while in high school, just shortly after. I’m not naming them but one of them already has three kids, one has a boy, and another one also has a boy. Do you keep a list of your favorite quotes? No. Describe your dream wedding in three words. Lots of food. What is your favorite Chinese restaurant? Tim Ho Wan or King Bee. Does Chinese food make you feel sick? No. Well Filipinos are kinda used to Chinese food, so it would be odd for us to get sick from it. Have you ever seen someone throw up on a plane? Fortunately no. But on a boat and a ship, yes. Do you get motion sickness? Yes, easily.

I’m just going to ignore the next seven questions because I’m tired of entertaining questions like these. Has God ever healed you of anything? If so, what? Do you believe in God? Do you pray, and if so, to whom? What is the most boring church you have ever attended? What is the most lively church you have ever attended? Do you find church fun or boring? When was the last time you went to a church service? When did you learn to ride a bike? I haven’t learned yet. I’ve had a few lucky rounds but they never lasted for more than five seconds. What do you hate the most about summer? The weather. Certainly not as fun when there’s no breeze from the beach complementing the heat. What is your favorite thing to do in a swimming pool? Stay away wherever most of the people are because it’s a little gross. Which part of your body is the most muscular? I don’t know. Do you like sugar skulls? No. Have you ever painted a sugar skull on your face? I probably had it done as a kid. Are you an artist? No. Did you ever take Latin in school? No but we were taught French very briefly because the foundress of my old school is from France. The lessons didn’t really catch on. What was the last race you ran called? I’ve never been in a race/marathon/walkathon before. Do you prefer to run in the street or on the sidewalk? Side of the street. Sidewalks are pretty inconsistent so I’m more likely to trip running on it. Which major holiday is closest to your birthday? Easter is always very near or exactly on my birthday.

[walking-true-to-style]

Drive-In, Drive Me Crazy Part Two: Crazy in Love || J.D.

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader (Can be read for Joe Mazzello!John Deacon)

Words: 2.58k

Warnings: Suggestive themes, smoking, anxiety.

Gender: Unspecified

Synopsis: After spending the night, you and John realize you need to come to terms with this new attraction. He offers to take you on a date around London to see if it would work out. A/N: A part two was requested by @deakysgirl. I hope you enjoy, dear!

I’m setting this right before Queen records hot space, never mind the gif being from 86 lmao

You awaken to an empty space beside you. You grimace, thinking perhaps your.... performance was not up to par for Deacy. You are still sore. Your face becomes rosy at the thought of the previous night’s events The smell of someone cooking wafts into the room, catching your attention immediately and pulling you from your thoughts. Stretching, you hoist yourself out of the warm cocoon of your quilt. You make your way downstairs to find John over the stove cooking breakfast. “Morning, Deacy.” you yawn behind him. He turns his head toward you, a sleepy grin plastered to his face, his curly hair sticking up on top. “Good morning. Sleep well?” he says back. You nod and come up behind him. “Smells good...” you look to see what he’s preparing. Eggs and french toast. Your mouth waters at the sight and even more at the smell. To the left, the toaster dings and two slices of bread pop out. “I figured I would make you something since you treated me so well last night.” he winks at you. Pink dusts your face at his remark, your knees shaky. “Right, we should definitely talk about that...” you rock back and forth on your feet. 

“Mm..” he hums in agreement. John ponders for a moment as he pulls the toast out. “Tell you what. Why don’t we eat and take a stroll around town? It’s quite a lovely day out, and that way we can work things out..” You smirk at him. “John Richard Deacon, are you asking me on a proper date?” he sends you a beaming gaze that nearly stops your heart. “Perhaps I am. After all, if we want to make this work, we’d better see if we’re even compatible.” you nod in agreement, though, you have a feeling it won’t take much to convince you otherwise. He grabs a plate and serves you. You take a bite and let out a satisfied moan. It’s as delicious and savory as it looks. “Good?” he smirks at you. “Yes.” you try to say with a full mouth. He chuckles at the sight of you, saliva dribbling down your face as you take another bite. “You didn’t tell me you could cook, Deacy.” you say through mouthfuls. He shrugs at you. “Had to learn someday. I wasn’t about to eat anymore tour catering. It’s not all that charming now, is it.” Your shoulders shake, suppressing a laugh. You swallow and say, “Just as modest as ever.” he gives you a goofy smile. You take notice of his meal. One black coffee with a lump of sugar and cheese on toast. You’re almost shocked.... almost. “You cook this amazing breakfast, and you still only take cheese on toast?” you laugh at him. He flushes lightly at your mocking. “Let’s just... say I’ve had my filling. Had something, eh, sweet last night.” Your face grows redder than his. “You can’t just SAY that!” you exclaim. You hide your face and he chuckles at you. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist.” The rest of breakfast is spent chattering away about idle topics. Despite the distance and the events of the night prior, everything just feels so natural. At some point, he slides his hand over yours giving it a squeeze as he drinks his coffee. The sensation sends electricity shooting through your veins. Yet, at the same time, it calms every nerve in your body. Once you’ve both finished your breakfast, you grab your coats and head out. The air is fresh and crisp after the showers a few days prior. Now that the storm has passed, it was generally clear, with the exception of one or two clouds passing. You breathe deeply, letting out a content sigh. John turns to you and offers an arm. You grin at him and hook your arm in his and off you go.

Your first stop is the shopping district off Oxford street. You spend over 2 hours weaving in and out of clothing stores, bookstores, and several other knickknack areas. You walk into one bookstore in particular in search of a book.

“They’ve gotta have it, Deacy!” you pull John in. He giggles and stumbles after you. The clerk looks up, shocked to see the bassist of Queen in HER shop.

“A- Are you John Deacon?” she stammers. He turns his view from you scanning shelves, occasionally picking up a book and reading the back, to her.

“Yes?” he cocks a brow. He feels guilty that he would have to pull himself from your date to greet a fan. You give him a reassuring nod and he turns to her. “My name’s Samantha! It’s such a pleasure having you in here!” she gawks. He smiles and bows his head slightly. “The pleasure is mine.” the girl looks near fainting as she asks him to sign a notebook she produces from behind the register. He signs it quickly, desperate to get back to you. Samantha rambles on about how much she loves him and how he’s her favorite member of Queen. You can’t help but snicker at John’s awkwardness. Finally, he explains he needs to keep a low profile, as he notices heads turning and peaking around shelves.

“Oh! Of course… My bad. If you need anything, love, just holler for me!” she beams. John smiles sheepishly at her before walking back to you.

“Sorry about that, (y/n)..” he lowers his head, embarrassed at the display. You place a soft touch under his chin to bring his eyes back to you. “It’s okay, Deacy. Besides, I found the book I wanted! They went out of print ages ago, but I knew this store would still have it.” You produce the book from under your arm to show John. He peers down at it and furrows his thick brows.

“God of Vengeance?” he reads out. “It’s a Yiddish play,” you explain. “About two women- a prostitute and the brothel owner’s daughter- falling in love. I know it’s a little scandalous, but it’s truly beautiful.” John watches with a twinkle in his eye as you speak passionately about the book.

“Well, if you like it so much, it has to be good.” he says calmly. “May I?” you hand him the book, and he simpers and walks to the counter. It takes you a moment to realize what he’s doing.

“Deacy, please- I can pay for it!” you stammer. He doesn’t pay you any mind as Samantha rings him up. She discounts him quite a bit and bags up the book for him.

“There you are. Please, don’t be a stranger!” you both smile at her and head out. He walks at a slightly brisk pace, a triumphant look on his face. Catching up to him, you grasp the back of his coat.

“I have money, Deacy, you didn’t have to do that.” you say guiltily. He slows to a stop and faces you.

“No, perhaps not… But seeing how happy it made you, I wanted to.” he brushes your cheek lightly, and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes to take in the tingling sensation. You open them up again, a sweet smile playing on your lips.

“John Deacon, you spoil me.” you huff playfully. He hands you the bag with the book and you continue walking.

You find yourself at a coffee shop for a late lunch, early dinner. He offers to pay, but you beat him to it.

“I can afford it, (y/n).” he protests. You simply stick out your tongue at him and hand the money to the cashier. As you sit down, you notice several heads turned toward you and John, most likely starstruck by him.

“John, everyone is staring…” you say in a hushed voice. He takes your hand and squeezes it. “Let them.” he says to you with a gleam in his eye. The barista comes to your table with your food. You take a bite. “How is it?” John asks you.

“Not as good as what you made this morning.” you confess with a chortle. He beams at your compliment as he takes a bite of his food.

Most of your meal is spent chatting once again about idle subjects. You still feel the heat of everyone’s stares around you, but John assures you it will be okay. After a few hours, you both get up and walk on. You find yourselves along the Thames river. The sun is beginning to lower, casting a golden glow over the water. You lean over the fence, observing a passing boat. “Stay like that for a moment, love.” John instructs. You cock a brow and turn toward him. He his holding a Polaroid up to his face, squinting into the viewer. “John, what are you-“ “I said don’t move!” he chuckles. “The light is hitting you perfectly. I want to capture it.” you roll your eyes at him, snickering, and look wistfully back to the river. The Polaroid gives a “snap” sound, signifying John had gotten the shot. You look back at him as he takes the photo out from the slot and shakes it. “How do I look?” you ask, sauntering over. You stand behind him to view the developing photo. You slide your arms around his torso. He tenses in your hold but relaxes, letting out a sigh. You smile at the photo. “It’s lovely, Deacy.” he cranes his neck and plants a sweet kiss on your cheek. Your body heats up and your grin is brighter. You return the kiss before slipping away from him. He turns to you, still looking at the photo. “Do you mind if I keep this? I want to remember this moment when I go on tour.” he asks you. You nearly melt at his statement. “Sure, Deacy.” you nod. He places the picture gently in the pocket of his coat. You keep walking until you find a seating area. You pick a bench and sit to enjoy the view of the water. There is a stillness in the world, the only sound being the water lapping against the wall and the breeze rustling the leaves of the trees lightly. John lights a cigarette idly, taking a long drag and puffing it out. He offers the cigarette to you, but you decline politely. “So… are the rest of the members around then?” you ask casually. John puffs out some more smoke, thinking for a moment. “Well, if they are, I haven’t seen them. They’re likely spending time with family and other friends as well.”

“I see..” you rest your head on his shoulder and he slithers an arm around yours. Everything is calm until...

“John Deacon! Is that you?” “Can I have your autograph?!” “Deacy, I love you!” “Where’s the rest of Queen?”

“Who’s with you?” An onslaught of fans have somehow manifested out of thin air.

Oh, no.... You think. Judging by John’s expression as he extinguishes his cigarette, he is thinking the same thing.

Your anxiety flares up, which John senses immediately. He takes you away quickly, giving a sorry to fans. You bound around for a bit before finding a more secluded area. You catch your breath as John holds you close. You hold him tightly, burying your face into his coat.

“It’s okay, love. It’s okay.” he assures you. His fingers find themselves running through your hair soothingly. You gain your composure and pull back, letting out a breath.

“Thanks, Deacy…” you say. He holds your hand, stroking his thumb up and down along the back of it. “Of course. I’m so sorry you were put through that… I didn’t mean for us to be spotted.” his tone is laced with guilt. You shrug, looking back at him with a weak smile.

“Well, I mean, you ARE a famous rock star now, Deacy. It’s bound to happen.”

John sighs. You both look out to the water. The sun is beginning to sink lower and lower.

“That’s why I’d understand if you… don’t want to make this work.” he seems to have a hard time saying that as he chokes it out.

“John, After the last two days, I definitely want to make this work.” you turn to him. He seems slightly surprised to hear you say it.

“I know you’re going to be gone a lot, but that just makes the time we have together more special. Oh, and we can call one another every night after you’ve finished a concert, and you can tell me all about it.” he turns to you fully now. You cup his cheek lovingly. “I love you Deacy- as my best friend, and, after today, even more than that.”

John beams at you. “I love you too, (y/n). I think… a part of me has for quite some time. I promise, I will do whatever it takes to make this work.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Deacon.”

John holds you close before leaning in to give you a sweet kiss on the lips. His hands find their way to your waist and yours to the nape of his neck. The world falls away as it did the night before in John’s car. He pulls you closer, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat pounding quickly in his chest. As you part, John places one more phantom kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Shall I take you back, then?” he asks. You nod. He takes your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it before you begin your walk back to your flat.

On your way back, your heart becomes extremely heavy. John is only here temporarily.

“When do you leave for your next tour?”

“Likely another week before we head to Munich to work on our next album.” he says to you. You grip his hand tighter as you feel tears prick your eyes. John looks over at you, seeing your distress. You both stop on the sidewalk, and he goes in front and faces you.

“Hey, now,” he sets his hands on your shoulders and looks at you warmly. “Remember what you said? We’ll call every day. We’re going to make this work. I promise.” You look at him with a small smile and nod. “Right…”

“Besides, I have a week, we have time.” “What about your family? What about your kids?” you don’t want to pull him away from his loved ones.

John ponders a moment.

“I’ve made time for them, not to worry.” he assures you. “I’ll be seeing them in a few days, and I’m staying at my parent’s anyway.” you nod to him and you continue on your way back to your flat.

“Well, here we are.” he says to you as you walk up the steps, turning your key.

“Uh, John, would you mind staying the night again? I… just don’t really want to call it the end of our date.” you ask bashfully. He is shocked at first, but smiles nonetheless. “Of course, love.”

In you go into your apartment, getting ready for bed. A long day of walking around town left you both more tired than you would admit. Once you settle in for the night, Deacy lays in beside you, placing an arm around your waist from behind.

“Good night, Deacy.” you say to him. He kisses the back of your neck, sending chills down your spine. “Good night, love.”

The last thing you remember before falling into a deep sleep is the ghost of his lips and his warm breath fanning onto your neck...

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@deakysgirl

[tindomielsilverthorn]

Tension and Release Part 4

The final chapter of this section! A Collaboration with @devsash 

The previous chapter (Part 3) Find a link list here of all the Chapters of the (Iasea Storyline!)

Leaving the Cathedral Steps

She chuckled lightly at the sensation. "They tingle." Once on level ground, she steadied a bit. "You can check on Anas this way as well. Whew...I don't know how Sutrakarre does this. He won't eat at all. Says the fasting helps.” "Hmm." Mehe glanced at his tendrils. "If you're feeling steady enough, I'll let go.” "I think I am. Those are very handy." She turned to the right and started towards the Mage Quarter. "Thank you for helping me.” "You're welcome." His tendrils slipped free of her arm. "I admit I still forget about them a lot.” "Still a new thing for you I would imagine. Do you have any control over them?" She asked, genuinely curious. He nodded. "When I focus, yes.” "And they react to your emotions. Interesting." She turned towards the tunnel, holding out a hand to steady herself along the wall. "Among other things," he said. His tendrils reached out again to help steady her. "Elune..." she whispered. "I didn't think I was this weak.” Mehe stepped closer, wrapping his arm around her waist to help her. "It's okay. We're almost there.” She offered him a weary smile. "I have never had to deal with so many injuries before. What they did… killing her would have been much faster. They meant to be cruel." She forced herself to keep moving. Mehe's tendrils curled around her shoulders and wrist as he walked slowly, bracing her as best as he could. "I'm sorry. Why did they go after her?” "You remember I said that Eliân let someone live, believing she was innocent?" He nodded. His eyes glanced around watchfully, scanning the passers by. She lowered her voice, "Her House was responsible for the torture and subsequent murder of Lilybeth's mother. The Matriarch of the House was my adoptive daughter's birth mother. She pimped out my daughter for political favors. When Lilybeth's mother was killed, Forosuul ordered everyone involved eliminated.” He pondered this. "Which means someone was spared by your... assassin.” She nodded. "She went through, on very limited time and got the people out who had no apparent ties to the events. She couldn't find any connection to Iasea. So she drugged her and stuck her on a boat to Pandaria. And then killed everyone else, save the Matriarch. Forosuul took care of her.” "So this Iasea is behind the attack." Mehe glanced up at her grimly. "Are you certain it's still safe for Anas to be in the shop?” "She is after the family. She has targeted Alsabe, her once sister. The note that was tied to Kalimè's hand said ‘You will learn what it feels like.’ I do not think the Anas is in any real danger." She paused a moment as her feet found the grass. "Niqi would have been a target to get to Ælithil.” He nodded. "Is it safe for you to be out here then?” "Probably not. But the family needs to eat. Someone had to go. The others are standing guard over the ones who cannot fight. Like Niqi and Kali. Anyone trying to enter will pay dearly if they do not have word from a family member. It's why I gave Anas the feather.” "Right." He glanced at the door to the tavern. "We're almost there.” "Oh thank Elune." She stumbled up the ramp, nodding to one of the tables close by. "I need to sit down.” He helped her into a chair. "I'll get your tea," he said, his tendrils uncurling from her. She nodded dully and put her head down on the table. Mehe stepped inside briskly, calling for the server. Tindomiel fumbled into a pocket and retrieved a small piece of paper with a list of food items. She put it down on the table along with a handful of coins. He emerged moments later, the server behind him. "You want anything to eat?" the Ren'dorei asked. "Just get this stuff… for the family..." she mumbled. "I'm fine.” Mehe picked the list up, glancing over it briefly before handing it along with the coins to the server. "A cup of white tea and a few muffins for the lady as well," he said. Tindo lifted her head up, frowning. "I didn't ask for muffins." She sighed. "I just needed some tea to wake me up.” He shook his head. "Muffins," he repeated firmly. "Three of them." The server nodded before returning inside. “Mehe...” She pursed her lips. “That is not necessary.” He sat down. "I'm not about to let you bloody fall over here if I can help it.” “From that tone, I am going to assume this is not up for debate.” She chuckled a little. "It isn't." He leaned back. "I was harsh with you earlier. I'm sorry.” Tindo smiled gently. “It was a stressful situation. The fact that you see it, makes all the difference. Apology accepted, Mehe.” He nodded, his tendrils curling idly over his arm. She leaned against the stone wall, letting the chair and the building support her. “Anas seemed to be in good spirits when he came out. I hope that means everything went well.” "I'd assume so. He looked better than when he went in, at least.” “Good,” she sighed. “I admit, I am glad Anas came with you. I am not sure I could have handled much more of Niquisse’s fear. It’s part of why I was glad to go get the food.” "Anas was really worried about her," he said. "I've never seen him use his powers within Stormwind.” Her eyes went wide. “He used his powers?” He nodded. "He doesn't do it very often.” “To stop Eliân?” She seemed surprised. "Yes." Mehe peered at her solemnly. “He really cares about Niquisse, doesn’t he?” "He does." He smiled. "He thinks of her as a little sister." “She called him her brother. I’d never heard her say that before. But when she was crying, she kept saying she wanted her brother. It took us a little while to realize who she meant.” "Hmm. Seems it was mutual then." He glanced up as the server arrived with a tray laden with food. She set it down before looking expectantly at Mehe. The Ren'dorei man fished out a few silver and copper coins, handing it to her. "Thank you." Turning back, he pushed the cup of tea and the plate of muffins towards Tindo. "Help yourself.” Tindo picked up the tea cup and breathed in the aroma. She closed her eyes as she took a sip. “Hmmmmm,” was the only thing heard as she wrapped both hands around the beverage. Mehe watched her reaction without comment. "How long has it been since you last ate?" he asked instead. “I have no idea,” she answered sleepily. “I haven’t even thought about it.” "Hmm. Well, eat up." He waved at the muffins. She chuckled a little. “You’re not going to let up, are you?” She selected what appeared to be a berry muffin and broke off a piece, popping it into her mouth. "Not until you get some food in you." He glanced around at the other patrons, scanning them carefully. "What are you looking for?" she asked before taking another bite. “I like being aware of my surroundings," he said evenly. "You do it all the time. Almost like you are expecting something to happen." She took a few more bites of the muffin. She picked up another and tore off a piece. He shrugged. "Can't hurt to be prepared." "Hmmm." She picked up her tea and took another long sip. "How's the tea?" he asked. “It’s quite good. Would you like to try it?” She held the cup out to him with a smile. He shook his head. "All for you," he said. He tried to raise his hand, only to blink at the tendrils curling over his arm. He loosened them before flicking one of them over his shoulder. Tindomiel laughed for the first time in days. She bit down on it and flushed. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” Mehe peered at her askance. "What's so funny?" “I’m sorry. The look on your face when you were tangled up… forgive me, Mehe. It seems that I am incapable of maintaining some decorum.” She stifled a giggle before taking another sip. "Hmm." He glanced at the food in the paper bags. "Can you carry all that back?" “Only one way to figure it out,” she shrugged. "I'll help you if you like," he offered. “That is very nice of you. Thank you.” She sat up and pushed her chair back. Taking a final sip of tea, she stood slowly. "Ready to go back?" He stood as well. “I have to. I have a whole infirmary suite full of people to look after.” She took a deep breath before gathering up several of the bags. Mehe helped gather the rest. He carefully picked up a few with his tendrils as well. "Let's go." Looking over, she tried unsuccessfully not to giggle. “You are making me think I need some of those.... oh… wait.” She closed her eyes for a moment and four thin tendrils sprouted from the backs of her shoulders. She  let them reach out and each take a bag. He offered her a small smile. "Convenient." “Hey, I can adapt.” She chuckled a little. “Thank you, Mehe.” "You're welcome." He nodded towards the path. "Shall we?" “Yes.” She started along. “Mehe, can we talk about Sutrakarre?” Keeping pace with her, he arched an eyebrow. "What about that malanore?” “I know he stepped in at a bad moment. But I can tell you that that man cares about one thing. Helping people. Everyone he can. If he stepped in, it’s because he thought something worse was going to happen.” She tried to keep her tone gentle and reassuring. "Hmm." Mehe pursed his lips. "He's bloody deluded though." “He’s actually a good counselor and someone I trust to care for my family. He misread you in the heat of the moment. But he also made sure that no one was hurt.” She offered her words carefully, trying to keep things calm. Mehe's eyes flashed. "By letting that woman throw a dagger at Anas and get away with it?" “Were either of you hurt?” "She could've hurt him. Wasn't that the point of her little demonstration?" “Yes. And she was showing you that she was choosing not to. And Sutrakarre knows her well enough to know that she wouldn’t.” She sighed. “You and Eliân were at the point of pushing each other to a bad place. He stopped it. He kept everyone safe.” "Hmm." Noticing a passing rabbit, he stepped carefully out of its path. She smiled at the movement, noting his kindness that showed in little ways. “I am just saying, please do not judge him poorly for a difficult situation.” "Look, Tindo. He can do or say whatever the hell he wants. I really don't care as long as Anas comes to no harm," he said. One of his tendrils carefully adjusted its hold on the paper bag in its grasp. “Fair enough. I just don’t want there to be bad feelings in the future.” He shrugged, glancing around idly. "I won't unless he does something that warrants it. Though I'm surprised he lasted this long in the Army of the Light with his damn 'trust people you've never met before' shtick. Bloody hell, I'm surprised he's even alive at all." “Sometimes, my friend, it is the right choice,” she encouraged lightly. He threw her an incredulous look. "It makes no sense." She chuckled. “You’re right. But that doesn’t make it any less true. Sometimes we find friends in unexpected places.” She frowned as they reached the tunnel, her bare feet finding stone again. "Something bothering you?" he asked, noticing her frown. “Setting foot on the stones means leaving the grass. That probably sounds silly.” She shook her head. The motion made her stumble and she reached out to grab the wall. In a smooth motion, Mehe's tendril dropped the paper bag atop the rest in his arms before whipping out, latching onto her arm. “I’m all right...I’m all right.” She closed her eyes and stopped. “Shaking my head made me a little dizzy. I’m ok now. Thank you.” "You need to get some rest," he said, his brow furrowing. "I will, as soon as we are safe at the fortress. Tomorrow, mostly likely." He nodded though his expression remained unconvinced. “I can’t right now. Not until my niece has been moved and the family is secure.” She looked at him. “Would you do any less for Anas?” "I'd be of no use exhausted and unable to defend him," he pointed out. At that, she seemed to crumble a bit. “I don’t… it feels wrong. It’s not right, that I should rest when others need me.” "Think of it this way. If you push yourself too hard, you'll collapse. Then they'll have to look after you as well as your niece," he said seriously. "It's better for you and them if you take care of yourself." “I will consider it.” She straightened herself and gestured to continue. “It won’t be much longer before we all leave.” He nodded, his tendril releasing her arm. The sinuous limb retrieved the paper bag it had been holding before he continued on towards the Cathedral. She moved beside him, sighing. “You are a good man, Mehe. Even if you don’t let people see it all the time.” "Hmm," came the reply. “Why are you so indifferent to that?” "Good, bad. It's all relative." He shrugged. “I suppose it is.” She smiled slightly. “What do you consider Anas to be?” "Oh, definitely a good man," he said with a smile. "And why do you consider him a good man, but not yourself?" "I'm not him," he said simply. "No. You aren't. But do you think Anas is a bad judge of character?" she asked softly, prodding a little without pushing too hard. "He trusts very easily. Sometimes to his detriment." “I would say that we are all guilty of that. But it doesn’t change our nature.” "Perhaps," he allowed. "Which is why I'm there to watch his back." “So if you are there, to protect a good man, does it not follow that you are also a good man?” He chuckled. "Perhaps," he repeated noncommittally. "It doesn't matter how anyone chooses to see me." “You are a curious one, Mehe. But I like you.” He raised an eyebrow at that but made no comment. Walking slowly, the tendrils sprouting from her back twisted around. Their length seemed to shift several times, almost imperceptible at first. “I am very sorry you got dragged into this mess, Mehe. Here I thought things were peaceful and I could simply make a friend.” "It's not your fault," he said, watching her tendrils. As they left the tunnel and entered the Cathedral district, one of the tendrils started to flicker out, the bag slipping from its grip. She managed to catch it with her arm with a heavy sigh. “Well, I had enough energy to do that for a little while.” "Try not to strain yourself too much," he said, concern in his pale blue eyes. “We are almost there. I will find a place to sit for a while. I know Niquisse was curled up in a corner for a while. Maybe I can do the same.”  She tipped her head to the side. “Mehe? Don’t worry too much. I’ll be all right.” He nodded again before glancing up at the Cathedral. "I'd help you carry these inside, but I don't think your family would appreciate it.” “Unfortunately, not right now. But if we can figure out a way to smooth things out, I would love it.” She adjusted the bags she had into one arm and reached out for the rest. He held them out to her one at a time. "Can you manage?" She offered him a gentle smile. “I think so.” She arranged them as best she could, until everything was settled. “Thank you, Mehe. For all of your help today. And for trying to look after our Niquisse.” He nodded. "I'll take my leave. Shorel'aran, Tindo. Be safe." She inclined her head to him. “Elune be with you, Mehe. Please give Anas my love.” She took a breath before beginning to climb the long steps to the Cathedral door. He watched her for a moment before turning and heading back towards the Mage Quarter.

[sandinz]

It may seem to some readers we spend most of our time enjoying ourselves. Together, with family, and with friends.

True, life in the Teutenberg/Walsh boathold (no household here!) it’s vastly different to the majority of people in our peer group. However, we are NOT retired. Barry has another two and half years to go; Sandra just over eight.

We do not, and neither of us ever have, rely on any form of public funds (i.e. state benefits). We DO have a small savings buffer as we’ve both ‘worked’ in the usual way for over 35 years each in our chosen professions. We have our boat, NB Areandare.

Adapting as we go …

This year has seen a marked difference in our travelling and trading plans. One of the most important things we’ve learnt since our bold/brave/crazy/impetuous (take your pick depending on your perspective!) decision to sell bricks and mortar, move to England, buy a narrowboat and leave our ‘normal’ jobs of Professional Photographer (Barry) and Midwife/Educator/Quality Coordinator (Sandra), has been to regularly review what we’re doing to attempt to sustain our chosen lifestyle. Up until very recently of course, I’ve also been caring for my elderly parents as their health diminished.

What we’re very conscious of is not getting sucked back into the hamster treadmill – or feeling coerced by ‘the powers that be’ into ‘ticking their boxes’.

Admittedly there’s been a few times such as the two applications for Barry’s UK Spousal Sponsored Visa (with the third one looming), or recently opening an ‘Executors Bank Account’ with my sister, or hiring a car from Enterprise (they ask about occupation this year having never done previously!), where not being able to simply answer questions about home address and employment, as most people easily do, can feel rather frustrating.

But … overall we feel an incredible sense of freedom ‘doing it differently‘ and NOT waiting to live until it’s potentially too late. We’ve known far too many people who have left this mortal world much sooner than expected. We both believe strongly this life is it. No point gambling precariously that there’s something ‘better’ to come in our worldview. As I’ve alluded to previously though, this way of living is not for the fainthearted. It takes courage, perseverance, partnership, persistence and planning (just not long-term or it’s just too freaky!).

Calendar Club – a joint venture

For the past two years we’ve both worked at Calendar Club outlets. In 2016 we each worked for people we knew who were running stores. Last year we successfully ran our own shop in Lichfield at the Three Spires Centre. A full-on fourteen week commitment, with only two days during in total when we shut up shop. We even managed to stay open during the period of severe snowfall.

However, with both of us running the store we each had sufficient time off. We’d chosen Lichfield as there were good moorings nearby, with public transport routes to the city – and it’s near family and friends, as Sandra lived in Sutton Coldfield for many years. And from 1st November to 1st March, 48 hour moorings become 14 day ones. So we were able to move the required distances during the time we were ‘working’.

We’re very proud that this year, as we met the Key Performance Indicators set by Calendar Club, we’ve been invited to run the Lichfield store again. It’s a brilliant way to earn a good sum of money, on a commission basis (we’re ‘Self-Employed Operators’), in a set period of time. So it’s ideally suited to live-aboard boaters who’d prefer not to work in the usual way. There’s obviously many other people who live on land who run stores and mall outlets too.

This year Calendar Club have a number of vacancies needing to be filled from now till October.  You can apply by going to this link and filling in the online form. Currently the areas where Calendar Club are seeking motivated and committed operators are:

Aldershot

Andover

Aylesbury

Bath

Bishops Stortford

Buxton

Chester

Dumfries

Durham

Elgin

Hastings

Hemel Hempstead

Hereford

Hull

Inverness

Kendal

Kirkcaldy

Maidenhead

Middlesbrough

Newmarket

Oxford

Reading

Runcorn

Southend

Stafford

St Albans

Swansea

Tamworth

Taunton

So get in quick if you’re interested!

There’s a number on the list with nearby waterways … Do contact us by email if you want to chat about our experiences.

The Home Brew Boat and Photography

Barry has focused mostly on on-line sales for The Home Brew Boat this year, doing very little towpath trading. We have three canal festivals booked in the Birmingham area in September. Most unlike the past four years.

He’s refining the products he sells, according to what he’s found popular. There may be more changes afoot in the near future, concentrating more along the distilling and spirits making line. That is more his area of expertise having been involved with ‘Still Spirits‘, the  distilling supply company whom Barry dealt with in New Zealand, prior to moving to the UK. So … if you want to know about distilling, the legalities of it and ‘how to do it safely and successfully for personal consumption only’, give him a call or email via the contact us page.

Last year Barry was invited to work with PayPal  together with an international freight company and which uses a website plugin to expand the reach of his business. It means his wicked website is translated into the language of the country where it is viewed so is able to have products delivered across the globe. The customer pays the UK plus extra international postage when ordering.  Barry organises the courier to the depot at Heathrow, and PayPal or their freight partner, do the rest. It’s been working very successfully so far.

He’s also increased the range of waterways related Greeting Cards to 47, with nine new ones in the last batch. Photography continues to be a passion – just in a very different way to his years in New Zealand.

The Worcester, Birmingham and Droitwich Canal Society have purchased some of his cards to sell at events they attend, and they say they’ve been one of their best-sellers! So … if there’s anyone else out there who would like to stock a selection of Barry’s cards, please do contact us.

He’s had photographs published recently in The Wall Street Journal and Waterways World, and we started a weekly Wednesday ‘Guess the location and waterway’ competition on his ‘Inspirational Images of the UK Inland Waterways’ Facebook page. The person to guess correctly wins their choice of Greeting Card from Barry’s range. Most week’s we’re a card down – occasionally we stump everyone! Click the link and ‘like’ the page, check it out on a Wednesday (the time we publish is variable) – and have a go yourself …

Reflections in Little Venice – published in The Wall Street Journal

A snow covered Areandare December 2017 Hopwas

Sandra’s becoming a Google Guru – at Ad-extra

Also this year, I (Sandra) applied, was interviewed, and successfully passed the required ‘Google Ads’ (formerly ‘Google AdWords’) exams, to gain a self-employed consultant contract with a fabulous UK-based company called ‘Ad-Extra‘. Over the past years I’ve blogged, set up and managed websites, and marketed our services through a variety of  Social Media accounts, so this seemed like a natural progression.

One of the beauties of doing online work like this, is the flexibility of the ‘hours of work’ – which can be mostly adapted around our lifestyle. It’s early days yet, but after working with the owner Dom, and the select team, since March 2018, I can honestly say I’m looking forwarding to building up my contribution to helping people promote themselves to clients searching for local businesses.

For any canal-related businesses, appearing at the top of Google searches may be something that would increase your exposure and income. Sandra Willis from The Doggie Boat, also works for Ad-Extra. Click here and ‘meet the team‘!

Duck food and Canal Art

These have been very small additions, so far, to our ‘portfolio’ of income generating streams.

We’ve been travelling a lot, and entertaining visitors frequently, so weekends sitting on a busy towpath attempting to ply our wares just hasn’t really figured on our itinerary! However, they’re both ‘works in progress’, and projects we’ll consider building upon during the remainder of this summer, early autumn, and in 2019.

  Letting go of Facepainting …

A few fantastic faces from Blisworth Canal Festival 2016

I loved being a facepainter since April 2014. It’s something I’d wanted to do for many years, and I believe (and was often told!) that I became rather good at it!

However …

I only ever got to facepaint OFF the boat. Which meant hauling heaps of equipment from the boat to a land-based stall and setting it up. Or hiring a car and travelling to events (that cut into the meagre profits!). And when people asked me if I did parties, generally I had to say yes and no, desperately wanting to say yes – but knowing it depended upon where we were expecting to be located at the time of the event. I’m convinced that if we’d been in one place, for a length of time, I could’ve built up the business successfully. As it is, with the lifestyle we’re currently living and loving, I felt it wasn’t moving forward. So I’ve made the sad decision to let it go – for now. Who knows, one day I may pick up my brushes, sponges, paints, glitter and gems again … Watching children’s (and young and more mature adults!) faces light up when they look in the mirror has been akin to waving a magic wand and sprinkling fairy dust on them. Absolutely priceless.

A kiwi summer

Our next kiwi guests arrive today, and are with us for three fabulous days. We’re currently moored adjacent to The Salt Barge, not far from Northwich. We’ve not stayed here previously, but will definitely do so again. A marvellous mooring and outstanding proper British pub.

On 25th July Barry’s older brother Ray arrives for three weeks. We recently heard his younger brother Peter has also chosen 2018 to pop in for a cuppa – or most likely something rather stronger! He’s literally popping in one day and out the next. But it’ll be amazing to see them both.

And yes, in between and during, we’ll both be fitting in ‘work’. Following that, September we have three festivals booked. October, it’ll be noses to the grindstone, and we’ll be focussing on making our Lichfield Calendar Club store as successful as possible.

We don’t always get the balance as evenly weighted to either side as we’d like, but mostly it suits us living as we are. For now …

Continuing to discover ways to sustain our flexible floating lifestyle It may seem to some readers we spend most of our time enjoying ourselves. Together, with family, and with friends.

[humanpursuits]

Slide Away: Examining the Art of the Instagram Photo-Dump

VANCOUVER, B.C. – You might call it a soft cultural reset.

12 weeks ago, plain black squares started popping up on Instagram.

The moment, originally deemed #TheShowMustBePaused, but eventually known as #BlackOutTuesday, started as a day of action for the music industry, organized by two black women – Jamila Thomas and Brianna Agyemang.

Spoiler: it didn't end that way.

Thomas and Agyemang's mission to "hold the [music] industry at large, including major corporations + their partners who benefit from the effort, struggles and successes of Black people accountable," was quickly forgotten. Instead, well-meaning celebrities and civilians co-opted their idea, and ran it into the ground, pivoting from #TheShowMustBePaused to #BlackOutTuesday, a broader, but still well-intentioned protest intended to amplify the work and voice of the black community. It was alright idea in theory, but in practice #BlackOutTuesday accomplished little, with most users posting a black square on their Instagram feed before logging off. Mission accomplished.

While nobody ever said it had to make total sense, #BlackOutTuesday quickly became a case study in the pitfalls of online activism, as people smarter than Drake, Kylie Jenner and Rhianna (but not smarter than Lil Nas X) pointed out that the squares weren't really all that helpful, and in some cases actually hindered people's ability to find black resources, as misguided users paired their posts with the #blacklivesmatter hashtag.

Their ability to do the bare minimum and still feel good about it compromised, many users started deleting their squares. Overnight, thousands of posts amplifying #BlackOutTuesday quietly disappeared without a word. A quick scan of Instagram shows roughly 22.6M posts still carry the #BlackOutTuesday hashtag, but many aren’t what you’d expect, with wannabe influencers coopting the hashtag for content that has little to do with the black experience.

So it seemed, the world moved on.

But while #BlackOutTuesday feels like a footnote in a year marked by violence, disease and protest, it appears to have influenced several new trends on Instagram. Following the incident, there first appeared to be a decrease of in-feed content from self-identifying allies. From June to about mid-July Instagram stories, rather than in-feed posts, became the primary means of sharing escapist quarantine activities. Baking bread or social distanced nature walks, previously considered prime content, were effectively relegated to the sidelines, allowing more serious topics to achieve the sort of permanence only found in-feed. A cynic might call this performative, sure, but the relative silence made space for new voices; in particular, social justice slideshows, which started popping up in late May, but truly proliferated in the weeks following #BlackOutTuesday, as BLM and other racial equality protests spread at home and abroad.

While none of these changes aligned with the original goals of #TheShowMustBePaused, it seemed the #BlackOutTuesday backlash had an unintended effect: Instagram suddenly felt useful. Instead of dealing solely with photos and captions, the app was a hotbed of information and dialogue, suggesting Instagram was a platform that could impact social change. The only question was, would it last?

The answer, it would seem, is “probably not”. While social justice still lives on, particularly in stories (depending on your feed), the self-awareness that inspired mass-sharing of social justice content appears to transformed into a new, and more complicated fad: the photo-dump.

For the uninitiated, a photo-dump involves diving into your photo album and sharing a series of images in an Instagram slideshow. The trend watchers at Elite Daily describe the method as a "roundup" of (3 – 10) photos shared during, or immediately after an event, with minimal editing. Like the social justice slideshows that predated them, photo-dumps aim for high impact with minimal footprint, squeezing several shots into one post, rather than clogging the feed (which, at present, still feels like a cardinal sin). 

While they don’t go so far to define what an ‘event’ is, my extremely expert social media analysis indicates the term could apply to practically anything. Saw your friends for some socially distanced hangs? Dump it. Hiked 3 mountains with your friends and saw a cute marmot? Dump it. Cat drinking out of a mug? You know what to do.

In all instances, the key to a good photo-dump appears to be what I call careless curation. Cute loosies are combined with interesting scenics and meticulously framed thot pics, giving viewers an opaque sense of intimacy, and the overall vibe of the event.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the trend has caught steam with several celebrities, who are utilizing the format to project authenticity while also maintaining an aura of the aspirational. Like most users, celebs appear to reserve their photo-dumps for trips or other key life events. Drake stares reflectively at the blue waters surrounding his boat (seemingly alone). Kim Kardashian West takes her family stand up paddle boarding, while wearing her husband’s extremely expensive foam clog. Halsey treks around the continental United States, as COVID cases continue to climb in several communities.

None, however, hold a candle to Dua Lipa, who, amidst album promotion and the sincere amplification of several legitimate causes, has posted no less than 10 photo-dumps to her feed since June 2. The themes range from extravagant to economical: one set shows her romantic mid-quarantine escape to St. Lucia, another captures a large backyard birthday party with friends. In a dump shared in the middle of writing this article (!!!), Lipa turns the camera on her friends and partner, model Anwar Hadid. The photos, possibly snapped while shooting the video for her next single, serve the same function as “behind-the-scenes” features of decades past. That is, using outtakes or failed attempts as a means of authenticity – suggesting viewers are getting the full picture, albeit one captured and approved by the star. By swinging between the two extremes, Dua Lipa's feed strikes social media’s version of  ‘balance’, walking the fine line between aspirational and authentic.

Or rather, the appearance of the authentic.

In 1967′s Society of the Spectacle, Guy Debord argued humans have had their authentic selves stripped away by the capitalist economy. In Debord’s view, we are no longer beings, defined by actions, skills or behaviours. Instead, he says, social life has shifted, first to having and then appearing; where once you might have used raw materials to craft a ring, consumer capitalism evolved to the point where you can now buy, or even rent, a ring – with no understanding of the labour that went into it. Key in all this, Debord argues, are images, which have become society’s primary way means of relating to each other.

This ability to project a version of yourself is, of course, baked into social media. But it finds new life in the photo-dump. A 10 photo slideshow of Dua Lipa and Anwar Hadid in St. Lucia may give you a sense of what it’s like to visit the Caribbean: to sit under a palm cabana, or feel the summery rain drip off your bucket hat  – but it isn’t the full picture. It doesn’t provide an authentic experience, other than that of looking at some carelessly curated images. 

Debord would likely say the photo-dump is just the latest illusion designed to distract us from the pitfalls of capitalism. And maybe he’s right. As I sit here, scrolling through Lipa’s photos, it occurs to me that Instagram was at its most useful when life was on hold. The wheels of capitalist production never fully stopped, but they were forced to momentarily slow-down as society grappled with a (hopefully) once in a lifetime situation. #BlackOutTuesday felt like a step  in the wrong direction, but the ensuing weeks proved that social media, like any other tool, is really only as useful as the human’s operating it. When we care about society, Instagram cares about society. By echoing the self-awareness embedded in social justice slide shows, photo-dumps feel like a bridge between narcissism and selflessness. Whether we make it to the other side, remains to be seen.

Stream Dua Lipa’s new album, Future Nostalgia.

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[swanderful1]

A Cold Awakening: Ch 13/?

Summary:  Modern crime AU. Twenty years have gone by since Storybrooke was shaken to the core by a gruesome crime that went unsolved. Sheriff David Nolan and his partner, daughter Emma are forced to revisit the crime. At the same time, Killian Jones and his older brother Liam have been drawn back to the town they had longed to never see again, struggling to find their own answers. As taunting notes and clues show up they are taken on a journey to finally bring justice for the Jones family. And Emma Nolan finds herself caught in a situation more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.

Notes: Hi everyone, thanks so much for the support once again I can’t say enough how much it means to me. Here is chapter 13 and I hope you enjoy. Feel free to read, rate, review, direct message me, just say hello. Whatever floats your boat! 

The remainder of the story can be found on AO3 and ffnet

Words: 8700 

Rating: F for fluffy

The events following the discovery of the recipe book/journal seemed to move in a fast motion that Emma could barely keep up with. Her mind too tangled with the fact that whomever had left it, had been at her home. On her porch. On her steps. Waltzed right up to the front door and deposited what was supposed to be an insanely helpful piece of evidence. But what Emma found, as she dove deep into the final years of Moira Jones’ life, was that the answers she was looking for would not come so easily.

Shortly after David arrived, several others from Graham’s team showed up. The recipe book was taken back to the station for safe keeping and locked away in the evidence room. Graham had told Emma she could stay and read the entries if she wanted but that it might be a good idea to wait on it, since she had been at a bar drinking, it was already late and the evidence of she and Killian’s most recent rendezvous was still still drying on her legs beneath her jeans. Of fucking course. She finally had decent (phenomenal) sex and couldn’t even bask in the glory for an hour before there was something pressing occupying the entirety of her attention. For once Emma agreed with Graham, she had been drinking, it was late and if she was to approach this journal at her best it would have to be entirely sober.

“Em, why don’t you come stay at our house tonight?” David suggested as they stood on the curb in front of her home. Watching on as a team of people from the Boston department dusted for prints and scoured for any other kind of hints.

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed. Not really wanting to be alone in her house after what had just happened. The whole experience leaving a bad taste in her mouth. No neighbors to ask if they had seen anything, the house so secluded, someone could have came and went without notice. She crossed her arms over her chest to block off the cool breeze that tore through the air. David, putting his arm around her shoulder, walked her to his car and drove them to her childhood home. Where Mary Margaret was waiting in the kitchen with a warm cup of hot chocolate made just the way Emma liked it.

Henry called a few moments after Emma got to her parents house. Apparently Neal had filled him in on what had happened.

“Are you okay, mom?” he asked on the phone, concern in his young voice.

“Yeah, kid. I’m alright. I wasn’t there when it happened and they were long gone by the time I got back.” The last part she wasn’t 100% confident in but she figured it would help lighten the air a bit.

“I’m coming to grandpa and grandma’s.”

“No, Henry, really, everything’s okay. Just stay with your dad tonight. It’s late and you have school. You can stay here tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Just stay there. I’ll come walk you to school in the morning and pick you up after?” Truthfully she just wanted Henry right next to her at all times but he was 13 now, and that wasn’t really a feasible goal.

“Okay. Goodnight mom, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight kid, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Emma didn’t sleep a wink after talking on the phone with Henry. She just wanted to be in her own bed in her own house. Instead she laid staring face up at the ceiling of her childhood bedroom, awaiting rest that never came.

In the morning when her alarm went off on her phone she immediately silenced it, having been awake the whole time. She just wanted to get her hands on the journal. It was like torture. She shot out of bed, threw on some clothes, and grabbed a pop tart and a coffee before walking to Neal’s to get Henry. They walked to his school in silence, she was honestly just happy to see him and that he had been with his dad the night before. She rustled his hair before hugging him goodbye in front of the school. Promising she would pick him up after.

Walking up to the office she was one of the first to get there. Her father was brewing a pot of coffee and Graham was dismissing the others for the day who had spent the night examining Emma’s home.

“Morning, Em. Good news for you.” Graham greeted her.

“What’s up?” she asked, setting her bag down on her desk. Gearing up for a long day on little sleep.

“Netflix wants to do a documentary on the case.”

“Get the fuck out of here. No.” She was too tired and too stressed to even entertain the idea of a camera crew being here.

“I know. It’s ridiculous… but you have to admit a little impressive. This small town generating quite the following that it is.”

“Yeah. I get it. Amazing.” She rolled her eyes. At least he wasn’t on board with the ridiculous idea. Perhaps one day when Emma is able to give the Jones’ some answers on what happened to their parents, then Netflix could make their little movie.

“One steaming hot cup of black coffee…” David strolled up and handed the mug to Emma, who had just finished her first cup. Thankful that her father was so in tune with her.

“Thanks dad. Are we ready to take a look at this thing?” Emma asked, anxious to get her eyes on the journal.

“Just about. We’ll be in room 3, it’ll be quiet in there. Copies have been made for each of us. The recipe book itself was sent to the lab.” Graham waved a manilla folder, that Emma assumed contained their copies and began to walk toward the door the led to the space they would be in.

Emma, David, and Graham entered the small room where just yesterday she had interviewed Mrs. Jones’ former therapist. So much had happened since then. And quickly. Emma took her copies of the recipe book pages and spread out on one side of the table. With her pens and highlighters and coffee she was ready to go. The more she thought about the delivery of the book she had wondered if it was an inside job. That someone knew the security had been increased at the police station, someone knew where she lived, someone knew how to drop a clue (many) without so much as a scrap of evidence. But those weren’t the kind of things she could go around suggesting. The department was small, and imagine accusing someone that wasn’t guilty, imagine having to see them each day after that. It wasn’t solid enough yet.

Time went by quickly, as the three read and read until the pages had been scanned thoroughly cover to cover. They took breaks for food or water or whatever they needed but for most of the day they were in there. During one of her breaks, Emma was nursing the symptoms of a headache. She needed medicine and she knew Ruby would have some, so she excused herself to go find her best friend.

“Hey, oh my god how are you?” Ruby whispered when Emma tugged her aside to a secluded hallway to talk.

“I’m fine, just a headache, do you have any Advil?”

“Yeah, in my desk, I’ll grab some for you. I heard about the thing being left at your house that’s wild.” Ruby’s eyes were wide with curiosity. Normally Emma would have called or texted her to fill her in, they told each other most everything. But the entire event had gone down so quickly, Emma hadn’t thought to do it.

“Well, we were at the bar when it happened and Henry was with Neal so he wasn’t home thank God.” Emma still got angry thinking about if her son had been home. “How was the rest of your night?”

“Fine, the woman was really nice. Dorothy. The one who bought us the drinks. We have a date this weekend.”

“That’s amazing!!!” Emma grabbed Ruby’s hands. It was nice to be excited for her. A few seconds ticked past and Ruby’s face went from a smile to a smirk as she looked closely at Emma. Almost reading her.

“So was he good?”

“What?!”

“You know what I mean, don’t you dare play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

“We just…”

“Fucked in an alley?”

“Ruby.. sh…” Emma grabbed the brunette’s arm. Wary that anyone else around may hear.

“Liam came up to me a few minutes after you both ran out of the bar.” And then Ruby launched into her recount of how she and the other Jones brother had put the pieces together of what was happening between Emma and Killian. “He says he’s never seen Killian like this…”

“Like what?”

“So enamored by someone.”

Emma was a bit taken aback by the choice of words. They were so heavy. But they didn’t feel out of place.

“Let’s just… we can talk later I have to get back in there. I just needed a little break.” Emma collected herself and followed Ruby who gave her a smile before walking to her desk, grabbing the Advil for her friend.

“Is it going well in there? Like have you found anything helpful?” Ruby asked as Emma tossed back the pill with a glass of water.

“Nothing yet. It’s not easy, she doesn’t refer to the guy by name.”

“Did you really think she would?” Ruby’s eyebrow shot up. In fairness, no. It wouldn’t make sense. Emma should have known. She should have known that a woman like Moira Jones, so careful to mask the evidence of her affair, would not have given name to the man she had fallen in love with outside of her marriage.

“Wishful thinking I guess.” Emma shrugged before returning to the room to read through more of the material.

So much time had gone by, and at 3 pm she had to leave. She couldn’t stare anymore at the paper, no more notes could she make in the margins. Nothing of value had presented itself. She would have to let it sink in for the night. She stood from the table, a bit wobbly from sitting so long. David and Graham did the same, no one making any real revelations.

“I’ll walk with you,” David said as she put on her leather jacket to leave the office.

“Mom’s idea?” Emma looked at her dad, who’s face gave away his answer before his mouth did.

“She’s worried, you didn’t sleep last night.”

“She’s too much.”

“Give her a break, Em. You’re her only daughter. It’s like if Henry was in your position.”

And then David’s sound reasoning hit Emma, as it always did. Because the man had a keen sense of always being right.

They walked to the school to grab Henry, who was happy to see Emma. More happy than their usual reunion. She wrapped her arms around him, though they had just seen each other that morning, and didn’t want to let him go.

Henry sat with her all night as she combed through her paper copies of the recipe book. Her mind restless the closer to dark it became. They took over her parents’ dining room table with papers, Henry with his schoolwork, Emma with her files. And kept each other company.

July 27, 1995

Today was better. Brennan and the boys took the boat out because the weather was pleasant. I stayed back, telling them I wasn’t feeling well. The truth of the matter is being on the water isn’t something I enjoy much anymore. I wish I could be there for them, be around my kids but the more I look at them the more they look like Brennan and that frightens me. He frightens me.

The clock in the dining room ticked by as hours passed, Emma reading through page after page. Around 11 pm Henry brought in 2 mugs of tea in hopes that the warm chamomile would urge his mother toward sleep.

October 16, 1995

I ran away for the night. It was exhilarating. I took some time for myself. I felt like I could finally breathe. We stayed in a place I had never heard of. A place no one would ever find us. My own little fairytale. I can’t believe we’ve found each other again. Some things are just meant to be I suppose.

Emma sipped her tea, even as it grew colder the longer it sat. The one thing the journal had done is set a time frame for the affair. It not truly taking hold of Moira’s conscious thoughts until October of 1995. She wondered if this mysterious partner had simply just returned to town or perhaps they had been there the whole time. What changed? And when did they know each other before?

Henry had turned in for the night, the clock reading 1 am. She thought perhaps she should do the same.

“Emma, honey, you need to get some rest.” Mary Margaret put her hands on Emma’s shoulders, but the urging did nothing for Emma. She couldn’t peel herself away.

January 5, 1996

I fear that I might be pregnant. We haven’t been careful lately. I think Brennan may know something. I haven’t touched him in a year. My heart aches because I want to love my husband but he’s a monster. And now that I have tasted the love of another I do not think I could ever got back.

It was 2 am now, and David had joined his daughter at the table. Keeping her company. Alternating between note taking of his own and the daily crossword puzzle.

“What’s a 4 letter word for undergoing rapid combustion?” he said absentmindedly aloud.

“Burn.” Emma replied without looking up.

April 23, 1996

I am made of two incohesive parts. The part of me that wants to see my family succeed and be the people everyone thinks we are. To love being a mother, to grow old with the man I married. Then there is the part the yearns to run. The portion of me that only feels free and accepted when I am without my family, and with the true love of my life.

Emma was alone in the dining room again. The only light being the dimmed chandelier above. She looked around at the light green walls, the banquet filled with photos, the floral curtains, the contents of a home. A place where she grew up loved and her bad finger painting art was always hung on the fridge with pride.

When Moira Jones referenced her family in her writing there was always a ‘but’, always something that kept her from fully embracing that part of her. The roadblock being her husband, the man she once loved. Emma thought of her own parents, who had demonstrated probably one of the most sickeningly loving and healthy marriages of all time. And she thought of Killian, who had never experienced that.

The last entry, the last page of the Recipe book was written two weeks before she was murdered.

September 2, 1997

He breathes new life into me, each time I see him. Every time he steals me away I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if this were all the time. But for now and for a while it’s hidden moments. I love him. I really do. Maybe someday when the boys have moved out and are on their own I can find a way to have my life the way I want. Living this way forever though is a thought I can no longer bear.

At 3 in the morning Emma closed the files and felt herself finally tired enough to sleep. She crawled into the bed in her pink fluffy bedroom of the past. Looking at the stuffed animals that lined the shelves. Her desk that still had a massive desk top computer on it. The cool feeling of the sheets that had come from leaving the windows open. Sleep overtook her body until Friday morning when her mother had to shake her awake after 4 straight hours of semi-pleasant rest.

Emma walked into the office with purpose, knowing what was in store for today. Her father had let her know at the breakfast table that the Jones’ were coming in to hear about the newest development. She stiffened slightly at the thought. The last time she had been with Killian had been… heated. That seemed to be their pattern these days. See each other, tease, kiss, sweat, swoon, come. It was wild and intriguing but uncharacteristic of Emma, and she suspected that is wasn’t the kind of behavior Killian indulged in regularly. At least she hoped not…

“So Wednesday night, we’re assuming, around 11 pm a leather bound recipe book was distributed. It belonged to your mother, her initials are engraved on the front cover.” David was at the front of the room clicking through a slideshow of pictures that had been assembled to show Killian, Liam and Regina what had come up. “The book turned out to be the journal Moira Jones used up until two weeks before she died.”

Graham sat next to Emma, their files of notes on the journal on the table in front of him. He hadn’t made much progress either but he and Emma both agreed the timeline of the thing was relevant to the case. If they could decipher when exactly the affair started, and when they had initially met, the team could narrow down who it was.

Killian was directly across from Emma, as per usual, a delectable form of torture especially now that they had engaged in such intimate behavior… several times. He wore a navy blue suit that hugged him so well. Focus. He’s not that good looking. Alright, well that was a lie. It felt like though she wore jeans and a long sleeve shirt, he could see her underwear. She averted her eyes, twiddling her thumbs, she had told David to give the presentation today citing exhaustion as her reason against doing it herself.

“I don’t understand, didn’t you all enforce stronger security here? More cameras? How did this person drop something at the station again without being caught?” Regina spoke up.

“Because it wasn’t left at the station… it was on Emma’s porch.” The room got quiet. Emma was nervous to look up because she knew who would be staring right at her. She did anyway, and caught the deep blue pools of concern from the man across from her.

“This was at your house?” Killian’s words coming out before he realized there were other people in the room, who didn’t exactly know how close he and Emma had become. “Are you still staying there? Surely that can’t be safe.”

Her eyes widened the more he talked, trying to signal to him that he should fucking cool it before everyone picked up on the fact that he was speaking directly to her on a more personal level than was appropriate. She kicked his shin underneath the table and he winced but not enough that anyone caught it.

“We’ve had a team scour the place for anything but not so much as a tire mark was left behind. So whoever did it is on foot or just local.” Graham stood taking over the slide show. The focus of the room shifting to him as he discussed the installation of security cameras at Emma’s as well as more public street corners.

But Killian’s attention remained on Emma. His face looking pained as he completely ignored the rest of the meeting as did she.

Emma was alone for the night. Henry was with Neal for the next few days. Until she was sure it would be okay for him to be there again. Two days away from her home was long enough. The coward dropping hints at her doorstep couldn’t keep her away forever.

Ever since the recipe book had been deposited on her porch, Emma’s life had been a non-stop whirlwind of insanity. She had slept little, eaten even less, and spent most of her time trying to capitalize on the development before it was too late. All the while her home, the haven she had created in which she raised her son, was blocked off with yellow caution tape and swarmed with investigators.

When they finally gave her to go ahead to return to her house Friday evening after work, she did so without hesitation. No one would chase her out of it. No matter how weird she felt about walking up the steps this time to find that the porch looked normal. All was in place, the only remnants of the other night was a piece of tape left on the railing that had been ripped away. She would deal with it later. Right now all she wanted was to go for a run, take a bubble bath, and climb into her own bed.

Her mind was restless as she walked through the house. Wondering if the person who had left the note had peaked inside, seen the contents of her life. A shiver went down her spine, and not in a good way. The whole thing was violating. So she went to her room, changed into leggings and a tank top, and put in her headphones as she set out for a run.

The evening was crisp for May. But she didn’t mind. It kept her cool. The loud music she played in her ears a way to block out her wandering mind as much as it possibly could. She reached for the volume button and turned them up just a bit more as she rounded a bend to where the park was. The trees were lush and green after all of the rain in April. The smell of freshly mowed grass filled her nostrils. She closed her eyes and slowed for a moment. Inhale, exhale, she urged herself. In her experience, there wasn’t anything a few minutes of measured breathing wouldn’t fix. Until today.

A few people were scattered at the park, walking along the circular path surrounding the pond. Young families, kids, an elderly couple strolling hand in hand. She ran past all of them to take the route through the woods that would lead back to her house. Her legs begged her to slow as she maintained an all out sprint the entire way. The rush of the wind on her face, the steady increase of her breath, the pounding of her heart. Her shoes hit the dirt path one after the other, carrying her off into an abyss for just a moment. The runner’s high.

It quickly wore off when she stopped in front of her house. The same place she had lived for so long but that appeared so different to her now. She wished Henry was on the porch to greet her, or that her mother and father were there helping with dinner. She wished Ruby was walking out of the door to hand her a glass of Merlot and spend the Friday night talking about nothing.

She wished that someone was there to wrap her in their arms as she felt herself collapse to her knees on the walkway. Her arms cradling her chest as she tried to calm herself. Her body was so overstimulated. Her mind so active. All she wanted was peace but she was having trouble getting it. Her head hit the concrete and she rested there for a while. Catching herself, breathing, calming herself, untying the knots that had formed within her.

“This is your fucking house,” she muttered to herself. And it was enough to propel her inside. Enough to make her feel like she could unwind a bit. Enough to allow her a relaxing bubble bath for one. But it was not enough to discourage her from texting back when she got a message from a certain tall, dark Englishman, who had come into her train of thought more than once as she soaked within the bubbles of her bath.

Killian: Are you at your house?

Emma: Yeah, what’s up?

Killian: Mind if I stop by? I have something of a favor to ask.

He had never been here before, she would have to give him the address. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but she felt like it was. The idea of him coming here. What could he possibly have to ask her? Probably something flirty and obscene, perhaps she should stay in the tub until he arrived. Allow him to take her right where she sat. Emma shuddered. The man had definitely awakened something within her. Eventually she texted him her address and rose from the bathwater to get dressed. As much as she was attracted to him in such a primal way, today was not a day where she was feeling utterly bold or sexual. Their last encounters serving as a precedent for their behavior around each other made her a bit nervous for his arrival.

Emma took a few moments to dress herself, settling for sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. Her body still a bit sore from her earlier run. She took her hair down from the high messy bun it had been in and let the blonde curls fall over her shoulders. It was a bit unruly from the steam of the bath but she ran her fingers through making it look semi-presentable. When the doorbell rang she jumped a bit, never having been a jumpy person she attributed it to the goings on of the past few days and padded down the stairs.

As she rounded the bend from the kitchen to the foyer she could see the outline of her visitor. Rolling her eyes she unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door to find a very tall and devastatingly handsome man on her front porch. And next to him, his loyal steed.

“Good evening, m’lady,” Killian joked. She took in the site of him on her porch. Dressed down from his earlier appearance. Simple jeans and a flannel, not unlike the day she had first met Princess, his dog. Who was also next to him on her porch, sitting patiently with her eyes on the large brown paper bag in her owner’s hand. “We thought you might like some company.”

“How do you know I’m alone?” she asked, maybe a bit colder than she would have liked to come off.

“Are you not?” His eyebrow went up. Of course he knew she would be alone, because he was alone.

“Well, since I am, you can come in I suppose.”

“How kind of you to offer, Miss Nolan. And here I thought bearing grilled cheese and onion rings would be enough to grant me entrance to your abode.” He lifted the bag and waved it closer to her eye level. She could smell the grease scent coming through and pretended the fluttering in her stomach was from the thought of her favorite meal, not from something else.

She rolled her eyes at him before swinging the door all the way open so he and his dog could walk through. Here he was, she thought, in her home. He didn’t look all that out of place. The general regality of his demeanor made him fit with the grandeur of the old victorian home’s entryway.

“Lovely place you have here,” he surveyed the surroundings, probably comparing them to whatever palace he currently resided in in London.

“Well, it isn’t quite the penthouse suite but it suits me just fine,” she teased. “Here let me take that, I’ll get us some plates.” She grabbed the paper bag from his hand and did not miss the shock wave that went through her when their fingertips touched. She let them linger just a bit too long before retracting and making her way to the kitchen.

Emma took two plates from her cabinet and began preparing the meals. He had gotten her favorite food and one for himself as well. The oil from the sandwich coating her fingers as she removed them from their plastic takeout containers. She licked her fingers, savoring the taste, and trying not to think too hard about Killian making such a thoughtful gesture. Also trying to not think about how domestic of a scene this was.

“So is this the favor you came to ask me? Keep you and your dog occupied on a Friday night?” she walked over to the kitchen table where she set the plates down. Princess had been freed from her leash and was now waiting by the food Emma had placed on the table.

“Believe it or not, no,” he seated himself at one of the wooden chairs. “It seems I will be going to New York for a few days, and I need someone to watch the dog.” His hand went up to scratch behind his ear as he said it. The nervous quirk.

She sat down across from him. Taking in the image of him sitting in her kitchen, eating a grilled cheese sandwich.“You need me to dog sit?”

“I thought perhaps you two could keep each other company.” He took a bite of the grilled cheese and swallowed before speaking again. “She’s not much of a ferocious guard dog but she’ll let you know if someone is outside who isn’t supposed to be there.”

Now she understood.

“Killian, I don’t need your protection in my own home.”

“Not mine, love. My dog’s.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his lap, seemingly immovable on the issue. “And I know you don’t need it but I wanted to offer.”

“I’ll watch Princess. But only as a favor to her, not to you.” The earnestness of his offer getting to her.

“Tell yourself whatever you must, Emma.” Though he had experienced this small victory, Emma knew she wouldn’t mind having the dog around. A quiet kind of company that would bark if anything was a miss. It would be a bit of a comfort at least.

“Why are you going to New York anyway?”

“I’m the keynote speaker at a conference at Columbia’s business school.”

“Wow… Aren’t you fancy?” she mocked. Sometimes when he was laid back like this she forgot just how successful he had been. And continued to be. Even though he was far from his territory and dealing with an immense amount of inner turmoil about his parents’ murder.

“Hardly.” He finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on a napkin. His eyes had left hers and she missed them. “It’s a standing engagement I have with the university... It’s my father’s alma mater.”

They had both finished their meals now, and as she searched his face there was a sadness there at the mention of his father. Without thinking too much more about it Emma reached across the table and grabbed his hand. His eyes shot to the place where their skin now touched. A chaste motion but nevertheless, electric. Then his eyes went back to her and she offered a light smile.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” she asked. His face softened at her suggestion.

“Sure,” he smiled back at her.

Emma got up from the table and Killian cleared off their plates, loading them into the dishwasher. She told him to take the dog and that she would bring the wine into the living room. As she poured the thick, red Merlot from the bottle she thought of the turn her day had taken. How out of place she had felt in her home just an hour ago. But now she was the slightest bit more at ease. It didn’t stop her from peeking out windows and listening for any out of place noises though.

When she found Killian he was standing before the fireplace in her living room looking at the pictures on the mantle.

“Is this your boy?” he asked holding up a silver antique frame with Henry’s most recent school picture on display.

“Yeah, that’s Henry.” She set the mugs on the coffee table. “He’s the greatest.”

Killian smiled and looked down at his feet before putting the frame back in its place. “And you have been raising him on your own since you were eighteen?” He continued to look at the trinkets that littered the mantle. Paraphernalia from different estate sales and antique shops. The whole idea of living in Emma’s little pseudo-victorian home was for it to be true to its era.

“Not entirely on my own. Neal and I co-parent a lot. That’s where Henry is tonight… and where he has been a lot since the book was left here.”

“It’s very impressive… that you’re able to do that. Most aren’t.” Killian took one glass of wine from Emma’s hand and stood facing her.

“I’ve had a lot of help. I lived with my parents until I graduated high school. Henry and I shared a tiny loft bedroom.” She smiled remembering how hectic that time of her life was. She was just barely a high school senior with a newborn in a town where gossip traveled faster than wind. Trying to squeeze a car seat and a stroller into her little yellow bug.

“Can’t imagine the town folk were too forgiving?” Killian’s eyebrow shot up as he made the remark. There was something else behind his words though. Perhaps he himself was remembering the way that the town had been so unforgiving to him during such a manic time in his life.

She shook her head, no, and took a sip of the wine. Killian’s reputation about Storybrooke wasn’t great even before the murder of his parents. Emma remembered right after the news broke it took very little time for the town to point fingers at Killian, or his brother. No wonder he left the country.

“Was it lonely here for you? Before you moved I mean.” Immediately after she asked it she worried the question was too personal. But instead of ignoring the question he moved to sit on one of the plush green couches, next to the spot where his dog had made herself right at home. Lounging on her belly as if she had every right to be there. His hand settled on Princess’s back.

“Storybrooke was always rather lonely for me.” He sipped from his glass, eyes focused on something ahead of him. “I did not keep much company even before my parents’ death.”

This much Emma knew to be true. He had always maintained an air of mystery. She would see Killian here or there in social situations but he never seemed to be participating in anything. She never saw him joining the other older boys for keg stands or going to the Homecoming dances. He always seemed above it all.

“I know what you mean,” she smiled as his eyes met hers again. “When I got pregnant this town became isolating for me.” She opted to sit on the couch, separated from him by the presence of his sleeping dog, similar to the first night she had gone to his place.

“Imagine if we had kept each other company during those times. The teen mother and town black sheep going to Granny’s for a milkshake.

She had to let out a slight laugh at the thought. The two of them milling about the small town together stirring up controversy. Neal had been around but he wasn’t the one strapped with a ten pound lump to his belly. Everyone had definitely been easier on him than her. She felt a small pang in her heart almost wishing she had had someone during that time of her life who had felt as alone and talked about as she had.

When she looked in his eyes she could tell he was thinking the same. The laughing lulled to a comfortable silence between the two.

“You truly are braver than I for staying here. Building a life instead of running away,” Killian continued.

“Trust me I could not have done any of this without my par-,” she stopped herself before she finished the word. Of course he left. Why in the world would he have stayed?

“It’s alright, love, it’s been quite a while they’ve been gone.” He paused, probably contemplating whether or not to get into it. “It’s hard because there are no answers. A lot of the times when you lose someone there are these comforting little sayings that can get you along… ‘they’re in a better place now’ or ‘at least they aren’t suffering anymore’ but that doesn’t entirely apply here. I don’t even know who killed them.”

“She loved you very much, Killian…” Emma didn’t know if he would be angered if she mentioned his mother or her journal but she pressed on anyway. “I read her thoughts, she always thought of you and Liam.”

“I know you probably think she isn’t a good person for stepping out on my father, Emma, but she really was. She was just… unhappy.”

“Do you ever worry we won’t find out what happened to them?” Another bold question, Emma chose to blame it on the wine she had been nursing. Giving her the confidence to pry a bit further into his head.

“No.” He said with confidence. “No I don’t doubt you’ll figure it out.”

“How can you be so sure?” she wondered. His blind confidence in her abilities had been something he was steadfast in almost the entire time he had been back.

“I happen to believe the case is in very capable hands,” he looked at her, his eyes honest with admiration. Her heart began beating just a little bit faster. “You aren’t really someone who gives up what they want so easily, love.”

She looked at him wondering how he could be so certain of her. Trying to pull together a plausible string of events that could make him feel the way he claimed to feel right now.

“Do you happen to remember being at one of my family’s Christmas parties years ago, Emma?” he asked. She shook her head yes but was unsure of where he was going with this. “I wasn’t any older than perhaps 6 or 7 at the time. And there was a group of boys playing with a pirate ship playhouse I had gotten that year.”

The memory began to slip back into her mind. The pink blush creeping up her neck. Something she had not thought about, really ever. The only part of the Christmas party so clear in her head being the adult conversation she had heard during the game of hide and seek.

“You and another girl had wanted to play, tiny little thing you were, but still… stubborn. And one of the boys said that girls couldn’t be pirates.” He looked down at his hands and near empty glass of wine, almost bashful. “And you were having absolutely none of it. You berated him for not letting you into the playhouse, stood up for yourself and the other girl.”

“Jesus…” she looked down, a bit embarrassed that of all things he thought of that moment. “I never was very dainty. I can’t believe you remember that.”

“The night I returned the Storybrooke, when I saw you in the bar I hadn’t made the connection. I was far too drunk and a bit of an ass..”

“A bit?” She smiled.

“But the next day when I came to the police station and I saw you, and remembered your father… that was the first thing that came to my mind.”

There was no way her face wasn’t entirely red as he shared the story. The silence leaving room to notice just how close they were to each other on the couch despite the dog between them.

Hours had gone by since he had first come over. The whole of the thing flowing so unexpectedly. They finished their wine and had another glass but that was all. Simply occupied enough by each other’s presence. They talked and joked, sharing meaningless stories. For a while they played a game of Trouble that Emma had lying around when she realized she lacked a deck of cards. Killian had never played, and the entirety of the game was amusing to Emma.

“Emma this game requires absolutely no skill…” he was flustered, after their first round when he had learned to play. Emma laughed because she was winning… again.

“That’s the fun, there’s no real strategy.” She hit the plastic bubble top dice spinner for her turn and moved the green pegs around to win once again.

“Bloody hell.” His head fell into his hands, upset by another devastating loss. Despite his poor loser mentality Emma couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled so much.

After the game they took the dog outside for her to stretch her legs and move. It also gave Princess the opportunity to sniff for anything that alarmed her. She didn’t come up with anything but the walk was still nice despite the late hour.

When they came back inside Princess claimed an armchair by the window as Killian and Emma resumed their spots on the couch. And unknowingly they had gravitated closer and closer. Though no touching ever occurred. She had sensed when he had come to visit her tonight that he wasn’t looking for another of their heated encounters against a desk, or up against a brick wall in an alley, or handcuffed to a wrought iron railing. No, he didn’t come here looking for any of that. He just wanted company.

They talked for a while, discussing their differences. How he loved to cook and she couldn’t even toast a pop tart. How he knew several languages fluently and she knew none. And then too their similarities. How they both loved old black and white movies, how they had both been exceptionally good at English class in school but opted for careers in other things. How both of them had only been in one serious relationship before.

“After my parents’ death I threw myself into my schooling. It was important that I continue my education. I worked hard and forgot about youth, as the whole experience had been lost on me anyway… it’s hard to want a companion when you’ve never quite seen a good example of a healthy marriage.” He was opening up to her, and she with him. As the time ticked away and the natural flow of conversation led to the more personal corners of their brains. “That was until I met Grace. She, in short, changed everything for me.”

Emma looked at the man across from her. He looked so vulnerable at the moment. What appeared to be a bit of tears forming behind his eyes but he never let them slip as he spoke of his lost love. He told his tale of lust at first site, falling irrevocably in love with the woman who would ultimately leave him broken yet again.

“The night she left our flat she screamed at me and threw a lamp…” the sadness still there as he recalled the memory. “I wasn’t around much, I traveled for work constantly. I was caught up in making money, promotion after promotion didn’t matter to her. She wanted no part of it… no part of me.”

Emma knew the feeling well. When she and Neal had ended their relationship it was painful. Soul crushingly painful, because you never think it will happen. There was a time Emma had thought she would marry Neal, and a time Killian had thought he would marry Grace. But neither of those things happened.

“Neal and I were together for most of high school, off and on, we were a bit out of control then. And at first, everything was exciting. The feeling of being young and in love, like nothing can touch you. But then I got pregnant, I was only 18, and clueless. We tried to stay together, we really did but we wore each other down. There wasn’t a thing we didn’t argue about.” She thought back to fighting with him at all hours of the night, between feedings and bouts of exhaustion. If the baby wasn’t screaming she and Neal were. “We knew that if we didn’t end our relationship we would get to a point where we wouldn’t be able to be in the same room.”

Killian reached out his hand to brush a strand of curly blond hair off her face. She leaned her cheek into his hand, relishing in his tender touch. It was electric and quite different from their encounter the other night. The flame that existed between them more tame today, but it still burned.

They were so close and she could feel the held breath on either of their lips. The only sound around them was the light tick of the grandfather clock, the only thing keeping her on the ground. God he smelled good.

“You and I, we understand each other.” She said finally.

“Aye, it seems we do.” He smiled as his hand fell from her cheek to her shoulder to her hand that rested on the back of the couch. It was such a stark contrast to the past few times they had been alone together. But she didn’t mind. At least not tonight, when she had been feeling so uncomfortable in her home earlier. That had seemed to slip away though, and Killian appeared to be keenly aware to not push her.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, love, but as it turns out I have a 7 am flight to New York and it is now…” he checked the watch on his wrist, the one attached to the hand that had held hers. She missed the brief touch the instant it was gone, but she would never say that. “... 4 in the morning.”

“Shit…” she stood before she could think anymore about grabbing his hand again. “You should go… I mean… for your flight, not because I want… fuck.”

He stood to meet her gaze, amused at how frazzled she had gotten so quickly. “Walk me out?” He asked, his eyebrow going up at the suggestion. Hers doing the same.

The air in the room lightened, both stepping further away from one another. Something like disappointment rang through Emma but she ignored it. She tried to ignore it.

“Of course.” Emma turned and led the way to the front door. Her words in her throat, waiting to come out but he had stopped to pet his dog and say goodbye. She still wasn’t wholly sure about how to care for a dog but from what she had learned of Princess thus far she seemed relatively low maintenance.

“You know, you’re the first guy to come over here that wasn’t some sort of relative… or Neal,” she joked as they walked down the hall.

“Careful, darling. I may do this more often if I feel too welcome,” the smirk that crossed his face was borderline devious but just the right amount of charming for Emma to smile back.

They made their way to the front door in a comfortable silence. Neither truly feeling like they knew what to say. It wasn’t exactly conventional for this type of thing to happen. She didn’t hate having Killian here though. On some weird level he had taken her mind off of things.

“Thank you, Emma, for the lovely company.” They had reached the door and now Emma didn’t know what to do. Was she supposed to hug him? Shove him out the door without another word?

“You aren’t so bad yourself.” Emma couldn’t help it when her eyes went straight to his lips. Her breath caught in her throat thinking of where his lips had last been on her body.

“Goodnight...er morning, love.” Before she knew what was happening he was leaning toward her, closing the distance between them. His lips were soft on hers, almost as if he was asking permission to continue. She met him with equal tenderness. His hand came up to cup her cheek and his other hand found its way around her waist to pull her closer.

She slowly deepened the kiss, wanting to go further but not wanting to ruin the intimacy of this moment. Her own arms found their way around him and she tugged lightly on the hair at the nape of his neck. Too quickly it was over and he was slowly pulling away. His cheeks were flushed a light red and Emma couldn’t bite back her smile.

“Good morning, Killian.” She wanted to do more. Like nothing she had ever felt before she yearned for more. But the way he was staring at her wasn’t the same hungry look he had given her the night at the desk, or the night at the bar, or the time at his hotel. He wouldn’t be crossing that line tonight.

His thumb brushed lightly over her bottom lip eliciting a tingle deep in her belly before turning and exiting through the front door.

“Uhh, Killian,” she called to him when he was halfway down the front steps. He turned, his hair just the barest bit disheveled from her hands, his sleeves rolled up, his jeans hanging divinely. “When will you be back?”

“I return Sunday night,” a wicked smile appeared on his face as if he could read her mind. “Will I see you then?”

“That all depends…” Emma teased. Leaning against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. “Have you had enough of me yet?”

He turned fully around marching across the porch with purpose, a furious glint in his eyes as he approached her. Heat filled Emma as he grabbed the sides of her face kissing her breathless as she leaned against the wooden frame for support. His lips less soft and more urgent as he plundered her mouth. Her hand grasped at the collar of his shirt, grounding her in the moment. If she had been worried that his lack of sexual advances tonight were in anyway indicative of fading interest in her, he proved her wrong with his kiss. His long, slow, passionate movements of his tongue leading her to a level of wanting she didn’t know existed. And all too quickly he had pulled away.

His eyes didn’t meet hers at first, he looked to be contemplating all sorts of things as the fire from their kiss calmed. Though her heart raced with desire, he had a flight to catch. She thought that perhaps if he didn’t that the kiss would not have stopped.

When Killian finally looked up at her, he had cooled his demeanor. Looking every bit the suave, gentleman he so often acted as. His hands fell from her face, reaching for hers that were still on his chest.

A dark laugh from the back of his throat prefaced his words. “Does it feel as though I’ve had enough of you?” He eyed her, carefully, as he rolled his hips to meet hers so she could feel just how hard he was.

“Because I thought I had made myself clear,” he grabbed Emma’s left hand as he continued, pulling it up to his lips to leave one last gentle kiss on the skin of her wrist. She ached, waiting for what he would say next. “Perhaps when I return I’ll have to show you just how far from the truth your question is.”

“I look forward to it, Killian,” she answered coolly. Though her body was anything but. His handsome face twisting into a smile.

“I’ll see you Sunday then, my darling.”

She stilled, the use of the word my that had to this point only occurred in the throes of passion. Her mind racing trying to formulate a response but she couldn’t she was focused too hard on the thought of being his. And as he turned to walk away to his car, that he would get in and ride away, she realized what he had been doing all night.

Killian Jones, true to his word, was taking his time with her.

[garkgatiss]

Kernel of Truth: The Car and The Driver

John is driving. John is in the driver’s seat. 

John is on his heart-phone. John is driving erratically.

And then John is injured or dies.

Intro Post: Four episodes, three false narratives, two potential outcomes, no loose ends. Summary:

These three episodes are a set. They’re all retellings of the same events, pieced together from the limited information that John is willing to divulge, supplemented by imagination and colored by the author’s own feelings and motivations. Fresh paint to disguise another smell. Throughout all three episodes, we see wildly diverging narratives inspired by the same core kernels of truth. The fourth episode, the final ending of Clue, will tell us what really happened.

T6T vs. TLD: Two Potential Outcomes

So even before TFP aired, we had several car-centric events popping up in the first two false narratives:

John drives the car to the hospital

Charlie calls his dad from the driver’s seat of his car, sitting in his parents’ driveway, but dies silently of a seizure, probably

Drunk driver crashing into Charlie’s car

Mrs. Hudson’s wild ride, while on the phone

John asking to drive Mrs. Hudson’s car sometimes, which she refuses 

John later driving Mrs. Hudson’s car, while on the phone, to the hospital to save Sherlock (which all started as a Mary-inspired plan for Sherlock to save John)

Key here for me is that Mary’s trip to the hospital at the start of T6T and John’s mad dash to the hospital to save Sherlock in TLD puts John in the driver’s seat in both episodes. We could be metaphorically talking about John being in the driver’s seat of his own life for fucking finally, but we’ll explore a more literal interpretation first.

The two potential outcomes, the comparative differences between T6T and TLD come up here again. In T6T, John doesn’t make it to the hospital in time for Mary to give birth. In TLD, John arrives in the nick of time to save Sherlock, just like Mrs. Hudson did earlier that day. The repeated question here is, apparently: will John make it in time?

John the Driver

The other "wild ride” we have, to parallel Mrs. Hudson’s in TLD, is the drunk driver who crashes into Charlie’s car in T6T. Both people are sitting in the driver’s seat, both people are John mirrors: a gay boy with conservative, homophobic parents who travels halfway round the world to escape them as soon as he’s old enough, and an alcoholic. Since TLD is John writing a story while projecting himself onto every character all at once, it makes sense. One John mirror is pulled from the wreckage, one John mirror is already dead from a seizure.

John wants to name this case, “The Ghost Driver,” btw.

The message I’m getting loud and clear so far is: John is driving, John is in the driver’s seat, John is on his heart-phone, John is driving erratically. And then John is injured or dies.

I’ve talked already about how the indicators of John’s alcoholism have gone through the roof this season. I’m trying to read my way around the thought that a Garridebs moment may be the outcome of a literal drunk driving suicide accident, but it’s a serious possibility right now. It’s really messing me up now that we have a Garrideb in TFP with DTs, i.e. alcohol withdrawal, symptoms of which include: seizures.

Alternatively, it’s alcohol that lets John metaphorically take the wheel in his own life, ending in situations like the Stag Night Knee Grope. Good thing we have death compared with sex all over TLD. Good thing we have a different Garridebs suspect already in mind.

Metaphorically speaking, it looks like people don’t want John to be the driver. Throughout her birth scene, Mary screams “Please, God, just drive! God, drive!” asking subtextually of course for Sherlock to take control. Sherlock dismissively tells John to take the bus in T6T, and Mrs. Hudson won’t let John driver her car at all, until changing her mind in the final hour so that John can rush to save Sherlock. Again, TLD does that fun thing where it at first echoes an aspect of T6T and then later rectifies it. Two potential outcomes.

(Bless you, Mrs. Hudson, for finally handing John the keys, assuming the drunk driving is entirely metaphorical.)  

TFP

So! Onto TFP. Boats, planes, but no cars, really. Right?

WRONG. 

There’s this (bless you Ariane Devere and ctrl+f, for I would never have found this one on my own):

GOVERNOR (into phone): I need to speak to Mycroft. 

(In London, Sir Edwin, now sporting a full beard, is in the back seat of a car.) 

SIR EDWIN (into his phone): He’s in hospital. There was an explosion. 

GOVERNOR (into phone): Put me through to the hospital. 

SIR EDWIN: He’s not conscious. He’s severely injured. No-one is even confident he’s going to pull through. 

So in this entirely forgettable and nonsense scene in TFP that's apparently there to explain how John and Sherlock ended up exploded onto a boat in the middle of the ocean with no injuries while Mycroft took a detour through a hospital and nearly died before meeting back up with them on Terrordome Island, we have someone 

in a car, 

having a phone conversation, trying to get through to 

the hospital, where someone is 

being treated for life-threatening injuries.

Can you smell a kernel of truth through the coat of fresh paint yet? 

There’s one more thing in TFP, but it’s pretty nuts: the little girl on the plane keeps calling the pilot, “The Driver.” 

John The Driver, redux

GIRL: Even the driver’s asleep. 

John, is that you? Are you asleep at the wheel? The emphasis in T6T and TLD on how you haven’t been sleeping at all is starting to worry me.

SHERLOCK: That’s right; the front. 

GIRL: You mean where the driver is? 

SHERLOCK (continuing to walk around the room, shining the lantern on the many photos): Yes, that’s it. 

GIRL: Okay. (She starts to get up from the floor.) I’m going. (She starts to walk down the aisle, pausing and looking down at the unconscious flight attendant lying in her way. Sherlock continues looking at the photos. Some of them are of Sherlock at older ages than his young pirate self and a few pictures are of other members of the Holmes family.) 

SHERLOCK: Are you there yet? (It’s not the girl who replies but John, who jerks awake somewhere dark. The wall behind him is bare rock.) 

JOHN: Yeah, I’m here. (He stands up abruptly when he realizes that he’s sitting in water up to his waist.) 

SHERLOCK: John! 

JOHN (his voice coming from Sherlock’s earpiece): Yeah. 

SHERLOCK: Where are you? 

JOHN: I don’t know. I’ve just woken up. Where are you?

Ok, John’s the Driver. Who was just sleeping. This is... pretty obvious at this point. :(

SHERLOCK: Oh, hello. Are you at the front of the plane now? 

GIRL (in the flight deck, shaking the arm of the unconscious pilot): Yeah. I still can’t wake the driver up.

Again. :(

And then there’s Sherlock, on the phone this entire time, talking the little girl through the landing of the plane on her own:

SHERLOCK: Well, you and I are going to have to drive this plane together. Just you and me.

:’)

ETA: Actually, turns out there’s one more clue from TFP that I want to cover:

Golf Whiskey X-Ray

TECHNICIAN: Golf Whiskey X-ray, this is a restricted area, repeat, restricted area. You are off course. 

TECHNICIAN (into radio): Are you receiving? (There’s no immediate reply and he activates his radio again.) 

TECHNICIAN: Golf Whiskey X-ray, you are off course. Are you receiving? (The radio from the other end activates.) 

JOHN’s VOICE: Yeah, receiving you. This is a distress call, repeat, distress call. We’re in trouble here. 

(A radar image on the screen in front of the technician shows a bright red dot close to the centre of the screen.) 

TECHNICIAN: Golf Whiskey X-ray, what is your situation? (There’s no response.) 

TECHNICIAN: Golf Whiskey X-ray? Where are you now? 

JOHN’s VOICE (over radio): We’re headed for the rocks. We’re going to hit.

Not sure what significance G-W-X might have on its own, but if you just take the words literally, as in...

[an economy 4-door hatchback, such as Volkswagen’s] Golf,

Whiskey, and

X-Ray,

... they paint another bleak picture of how we ended up in John’s deathbed dream episode. Add in the distress call, and it’s hard not to read this very literally right alongside all the other drinking John mirrors, erratic drivers on phones, and distress calls picked up at the last second we’ve seen in S4.

ETA: After combing through and recapping the #SherlockLive twitter case, the man who kills himself to frame his wife and her lover has a prior conviction for a drunk driving accident, in which the wife was also injured.

My final prediction of the real event is some combination of:

John drinking

John driving

John on the phone

John reaching out to Sherlock, the Distress Call

The will-he/won’t-he survive business surrounding The Driver points very clearly to John’s injury in a Garridebs moment, imo. The evidence seems to point heavily toward a literal drunk driving suicide accident as I read it, but that simultaneously feels a little too dark and a little too ordinary for this show. Then again, this season is apparently much darker than any they’ve done before. 

Bonus points: Pairs well with the parallels Nattie @loudest-subtext-in-tv picked up on in her What Dreams May Come meta. I’ve never seen the movie and I don’t at all subscribe to EMP, but any tie to a movie where a depressed guy a) crashes his car after b) calling his wife on the phone to tell her he loves her one last, fateful time before c) sustaining life-threatening injuries and having a movie-length afterlife adventure seems pretty relevant here.

All transcripts from the incredible Ariane Devere.

[highvoltagearea]

The Great English Escape

  You may write England off when it comes to looking for a ‘holiday’, but it is actually the perfect location for a luxurious break. This country is packed with amazing views, blue seas, tonnes of history, and the finest cuisine; and I am not ashamed to say it, but I think England really does have it all.

Whether you want to relax and enjoy the scenery or be a culture vulture for the day, England offers up some of the best breaks around. So in a time where overseas travel is limited, I want to go through the top staycation destinations that offer a mixture of relaxation, sightseeing, and adventure.

Bath

Bath is the largest city in the county of Somerset and, in 1897, was recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Since Roman times, thanks to the installation of the famous ‘Roman Baths’ this destination has been a hotspot for holiday-goers looking for a pleasurable and relaxing break; and I can only agree.

Bath is home to one of Britain’s natural hot springs, presenting you with the unique opportunity to bathe just like the Celts and Romans did over 2,000 years ago.

Thermae Bath Spa is an award-winning natural spa where you can relax in its warm, mineral-rich waters, no matter the time of day. I recommend relaxing in the open-rooftop pool to take in the fantastic view of the city. You can also enjoy a variety of spa treatments and a stay in the wellness suite – the best spa break in Bath!

Bath is infused with restaurants, bars and independent shops, as well as the collection of museums and galleries on offer allowing you to explore the city’s diverse culture, another reason why this is one of Englands’ top cultural breaks.

Bath is well placed within the UK, with good connections to other incredible locations including the beautiful scenery of the Somerset countryside and outdoor attractions like Stonehenge, Avebury and Longleat Safari Park.

Oxford

The city of Oxford located in central Southern England is renowned for its prestigious University which dates back to the 12th century. There are plenty of free tours available to help you to explore the grounds of Oxford University, and there are no better tour guides then past and present students.

Oxford is also home to some fantastic museums which display some of the most incredible artwork dating back to… well let’s just say a very long time ago! Some of my favourite museums to visit include the Museum of Modern Art, Museum of the History of Science, Pitt Rivers and Ashmolean Museum. The latter is a must-see, especially since its renovation which has made the building even more appealing to the eyes.

For the finest dining in Oxford, you can take a walk back in time to some of the oldest pubs in Britain that are serving up traditional pub classics! These pubs are packed full of history and can be traced back to the 13th century – some historical figures might even pop in and serve you your dinner – took me a little by surprise! There are several annual food events held within the city which attract a lot of food lovers (including myself), so if you too love trying new things, please give Oxford a visit.

Cotswolds

With its golden stone and rolling hills, another one of my favourite locations is The Cotswolds. Taking up almost 800 square miles of land, The Cotswolds includes a number of stunning British counties including Gloucestershire, Oxfordshire, Warwickshire, Wiltshire and Worcestershire. Within its several counties, the Cotswolds contains a number of beautiful English villages, market towns, exquisite palaces, castles and country houses.

A visit to Sudeley Castle is a great way to feel like a royal for the day. Once home to Katherine Parr (the last of Henry VIII’s six wives), this 15th Century castle has seen many royal visitors in its time. The beautiful gardens, large lake and incredible medieval ruins within the castle’s grounds are fantastic sites for some cultural exploration.

As you can tell from the mass of land in which the Cotswolds covers, it is one of the largest areas of outstanding natural beauty and is perfect for cycling and hiking enthusiasts. Similar to where I live, this area is keen to get people outside and walking. With this in mind, they offer up many fantastic walking opportunities that enable visitors to explore the surroundings and capture some incredible photos! One of my favorite walks it the ‘Walk the Cotswolds Way’ which is a National Trail consisting of various scenic strolls and in my opinion is one of the best ways to take in the dramatic landscape.

Malvern

Formerly known as a spa village, Malvern is renowned for its therapeutic qualities. Back in the Victorian era, Malvern was the prime location for the ‘water cure’ and is the home town of hydrotherapy. Although the ‘water cure’ no longer exists in Malvern, many of the original buildings in which ‘water cure’s’ took place, such as St Ann’s Well and the Holy Well are still around and open to the public.

Here’s a question, are you interested in medieval architecture? Well if your answer is yes, then I recommend a trip to the Great Malvern Priory. This magnificent building stands tall with a huge east window, tiled walls and seats carved with lively designs all of which were handcrafted by its previous residents. A great representation of the true craftsmanship of the people of Malvern.

This village is perfect for anyone that is fascinated by antiques and second-hand shops. There are many new and second-hand bookshops, antique dealers and from time to time an auction takes place – gavel at the ready!

Chester

Chester’s mesmerising beauty and atmosphere make this destination one of my favourite recommendations for an English escape. But why, I hear you ask?

Chester is simply packed with history, with each twist and turn of the city telling a different story. When walking on the cobbled streets, you’re told the stories of when the Roman Legionnaires were marching to war and when the Norman invaders conquered the Anglo Saxons.

Continuing with the theme of history, Chester is also home to a 1000-year-old Cathedral which still has its original medieval architecture and carvings. That is pretty impressive!

To really get up close and personal with the history of Chester, you can participate in the infamous city tours by foot, bus or boat! There are a variety of tours available that all focus on different aspects of the finer things that Chester has to offer including the history, culture and picturesque views. There is no planning on your behalf, just simply book your slot, relax and enjoy the experience.

For those looking for some retail therapy or a home away from home, there is a lot on offer. Treat yourself or your family and friends and go shopping at the Rows. Sip some delicious coffee in the independent cafes, wine and dine in the finest of restaurants and even have a cosy night out in the outdoor cinema attractions.

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[harryandmeghan0-blog]

Meghan Markle's matchmaker Misha Nonoo flashes her giant diamond after getting engaged to Mikey Hess - Daily Mail

New Post has been published on https://harryandmeghan.xyz/meghan-markles-matchmaker-misha-nonoo-flashes-her-giant-diamond-after-getting-engaged-to-mikey-hess-daily-mail/

Meghan Markle's matchmaker Misha Nonoo flashes her giant diamond after getting engaged to Mikey Hess - Daily Mail

It looks like there is another wedding in Meghan Markle‘s future as her close friend Misha Nonoo is planning her walk down the aisle.

The Bahran-born designer, who claims that she set-up Markle with her now-husband Prince Harry, is engaged to millionaire entrepreneur and oil heir Michael ‘Mikey’ Hess. 

In a photo posted on social media, Hess, 32, can be seen down on one knee proposing to his future bride, 34, on a boat during what appeared to be a romantic getaway to Cabo San Lucas for Valentine’s Day.

‘Thank you for making all my dreams come true, Misha Nonoo,’ wrote Hess in the caption. 

‘I am so in love with you, and I feel so lucky I get to spend the rest of my life with you right beside me.’ 

DailyMail.com has also obtained the first photo of Nonoo’s sizable diamond ring, seen on the designer on Tuesday morning in New York.   

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They do: Designer Misha Nonoo, 34, is engaged to 32-year-old oil heir Michael ‘Mikey’ Hess (pair above in Cabo San Lucas)

Wedding bells: Hess popped the question in Cabo San Lucas while the two were on a romantic getaway for Valentine’s Day (pair above on Valentine’s Day)

Matchmaker: Nonoo has claimed that she set-up Prince Harry and Meghan Markle on a blind date (Nonoo and Markler in 2015 on left, Nonoo and Hess at the royal wedding in 2018 on right)

Knock their socks off like Meghan in a metallic dress by Misha Nonoo

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We do love looking back at the Duchess of Sussex’s old outfits. Or Meghan Markle as she was when she attended the 2015 CFDA Awards! Who knew then that in just a few short years, the Suits star would be married to Prince Harry?

She’s worn blazer dresses on several royal engagements, but this plunging metallic number is definitely a bit more daring than the styles she wears nowadays!

It’s by one of her favorite designers, Misha Nonoo. Remember THAT white ‘Husband’ shirt? Yep, that’s her! Unfortunately it’s sold out, but we have managed to track down some top notch alternatives, as well as both the Gianvito Rossi heels and Charlotte Olympia clutch bag she has accessorized with (follow the links below).

So with Meghan in mind, take a look at the metallic tux dresses we’ve found for you at Boohoo, Nasty Gal, PrettyLittleThing and Missguided. Bonus: they’re all super budget-friendly!

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Bling ring: Nonoo was seen wearing her new engagement ring on Tuesday morning in photos obtained exclusively by DailyMail.com (Nonoo above on Tuesday)

Iced: Nonoo’s massive diamond could be see on her hand when she arrived back in he city (above)

Heading out: Nonoo (above on Tuesday) was seen leaving her duplex in New York City a few hours after arriving home and heading to her studio to do some work

This will be the first marriage for Hess and the second for Nonoo, who was previously wed to Paddle8 founder Alexander Gilkes.

Nonoo was just 17 when she started dating the 24-year-old Gilkes,and two eventually married in 2012.

That union only lasted a few years however, and in 2017 the pair finalized their divorce, with Gilkes now dating Russian tennis star Maria Sharapova.

Nonoo is the daughter of an Iraqi businessman and English mother, and at the age of 11 moved to London with her family.

She is also Jewish, as is Hess, whose grandfather Leon founded the multi-billion-dollar Hess Corporation.

Hess’ father John is now the CEO of the company.

It dos not seem that Hess will be joining the family business any time soon though, having worked at Goldman Sachs and the Royal Hashemite Court after graduating from Harvard and Harvard Business School, where he met best friend Josh Kushner.

He is currently an associate at KKR & Co.

Paying a visit: Markle is also in New York, with DailyMail.com obtaining the first photos of her after she arrived in the States for her baby shower (Markle above on Monday)

Snaking out: She had been staying at Nonoo’s duplex while the designer was away with Hess

Paying a visit: There has not yet been any sign of Markle’s mother in th Big Apple 

Old friends: Nonoo and Hess traveled to Jordan in April on their first big outing. Pictured are: (1) rower Caspar Jopling; (2) pop star Ellie Goulding; (3) Nonoo, next to Hess (4) Karlie Kloss; (5) Nora Kirkpatrick; (6) her husband, filmmaker Bryn Mooser; (7) Joshua Kushner; (8) Princess Beatrice; (9) Hussein, Crown Prince of Jordan

David and crew: David Geffen hosted Hess and Nonoo on Rising Sun, his $200 million yacht, while sailing around Italy (clockwise left: Joshua Kushner, Karlie Kloss, Marie-Josee and Henry Kravis, Michael Kives, Hess, guest, Barry Diller, Geffen, McCartney, Nancy Shevell and Nonoo)

Past love: This will be the second wedding for Nonoo, who married Alexander Gilkes in 2012 (couple on left in 2015, Nonoo and Bella Hadid on right that same year) after she began dating the Paddle8 founder when she was 17 and he 24

Nonoo and Hess first made their relationship public at the royal wedding last year, and a few months later joined Kushner and his then-fiance Karlie Kloss for a trip down the Amalfi Coast on David Geffen’s yacht. 

The couple were back on a boat when Hess popped the question, though their location is unclear. 

There was a brief stop before the couple made their way back to New York, with the pair paying a visit to Hess’ family in Beverly Hills.

Then it was back to New York, where Nonoo was seen arriving back to the city on Tuesday morning after taking a red-eye flight. 

She popped into her apartment for just a few hours however before heading back to go do some work at her New York studio. 

Friends!: Abigail Spencer (above) was seen entering the shower for her Suits costar

Preparations are underway for Markle’s shower at The Mark in new York’s Upper East Side

Roses: A florist is seen hauling in pink roses for the afternoon luncheon at The Mark

Prep time: Two vans full of flowers were unloaded for the event, which marked Markle’s return to the States

Rolling in the gifts: A crib was seen being delivered to The Mark as well, likely for decorative purposes (above)

Nonoo will have another reason to celebrate this week as well, with her good friend Markle having returned to the States for the first time since her wedding to have her baby shower in New York. 

DailyMail.com obtained the first images  of Markle stateside on Monday, as she snuck into a waiting car with her bodyguard

Markle did her best to try and conceal her identity by wearing a newsboy cap and carrying a jacket to conceal her baby bump.

She will be feted on Tuesday with a baby shower at the very posh Mark Hotel on Manhattan’s Upper East.

Markle headed there on Monday night after spending the day at Nonoo’s duplex in Greenwich Village. 

Vans full of flowers were seen entering the hotel on Tuesday morning along with a crib.

Photographers had lined the entrance to The Mark by noon, which for years has served as base camp for the A-list crowd of stars, supermodels and fashionistas attending the Met Ball. 

Among those spotted arriving on Tuesday was Markle’s Suits costar Abigail Spencer. 

  Source: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-6720881/Meghan-Markles-matchmaker-Misha-Nonoo-flashes-giant-diamond-getting-engaged-Mikey-Hess.html

[mikemortgage]

Cry me a river: Low water levels causing chaos in Germany

BERLIN — A new island in Lake Constance. A river in Berlin flowing backward. Dead fish on the banks of lakes and ponds. Barges barely loaded so they don’t run aground.

A hot, dry summer has left German rivers and lakes at record low water levels, causing chaos for the inland shipping industry, environmental damage and billions of euros (dollars) in losses — a scenario that experts warn could portend the future as global temperatures rise.

The drought-like conditions have hit nearly 90 per cent of the country this year.

In Magdeburg, the Elbe River has been so low that no ships carrying goods south to Leipzig or on to the Czech Republic have been able to pass through since the end of June, said Hartmut Rhein of the city’s waterways and shipping department.

The river’s down to a depth of about 50 centimetres (less than 20 inches) there, when at least double that level is needed for normal shipping traffic, he said.

“At the moment the only possibility is to completely unload ships and transfer their cargoes to other means of transportation,” he said.

The situation is similar across Germany. The mighty Rhine has hit its lowest water levels ever at several points, and other major rivers like the Danube, the Weser and the Main are all far below normal.

On the waterways that are still navigable, the lower water levels have actually led to increased shipping traffic, as companies pack less weight onto boats so they don’t ride so low in the water. That means they must send more vessels out to carry the same amount of freight.

“All the ships on the Rhine are going around the clock to transport goods that would normally be on fewer ships,” said Rolf Nagelschmidt of Cologne’s waterways and shipping office. “At the moment, everything that can float is being loaded up.”

That has sent freight prices skyrocketing, and some costs are already being felt by consumers, with higher prices at gas pumps and for home heating oil.

Chemical giant BASF has been forced to cut production due to a lack of transportation. On Friday the company lowered its yearly profit forecast after a slowdown in the third quarter partly from the extra costs incurred due to the low levels of the Rhine, which flows past its headquarters in Ludwigshafen.

Germany’s Economy Ministry said Friday it had taken the unusual step of authorizing temporary access to Germany’s strategic fuel reserves in areas where supplies have not been able to get through due to the shallow waters.

With such widespread drought, Germany’s agricultural industry is also struggling. There have been shortages of feed for livestock and the country’s grain harvest is forecast to drop to 36 million tons this year compared to an average of 47.9 million tons over the last five years, according to the Center for Disaster Management at the Karlsruhe Institute of Technology.

“If you look at the overall economic effects, we’re talking certainly in the double-digit billions,” said the centre’s Michael Kunz.

Northern and eastern Germany saw their warmest summer ever recorded in 2018, and central Germany had its lowest rainfall ever, according to the German Weather Service, or DWD.

“Climate change means not only an increase in average temperatures, but also in the increase of extreme events,” said DWD Vice-President Paul Becker. “This year’s summer has been exceptional with its intensive drought and prolonged heat, but we expect an increase in such extreme periods in the future.”

From April through August, a high-pressure zone sat over northern Europe and a low-pressure zone blanketed the south. That created a “blocking situation” that produced the unusual weather, said Freja Vamborg, a senior climate scientist with Copernicus Climate Change Service, a European Union information service.

“During that whole time, most of northern Europe was warm and dry and the Mediterranean was wet,” she said.

Most of Germany has been right in the middle of the dry zone. While there has been some relief from the drought in the British Isles and Scandinavia, the drought is still plaguing Germany.

Sandbanks have appeared on the Rhine River that have not been seen before in modern history. On the Austrian part of Lake Constance, which is shared by Germany, Austria and Switzerland, a 10,000 square meter (108,000 square foot) silt island has appeared.

Unexploded World War II munitions are also popping up, most recently with a 1,000-kilogram (2,200-pound) American bomb being found on the exposed bottom of the Rhine near Neuwied this week. Experts say some 3,000 bombs were dropped in the area as the allies sought to destroy a railway bridge, but only a few actually hit their target.

In Berlin, the Spree River, which normally flows into the Havel River in the western part of the city, has been taking water in from the Havel instead, said Derk Ehlert, with the city’s environment department.

“It’s flowing backward, so to speak,” he said.

A family of beavers living in the German capital’s central Tiergarten park has attracted a lot of attention for taking matters into their own paws. They built a new dam about six weeks ago to keep the area wet — but that just dried other areas up.

“They wanted their old water level back,” Ehlert said.

Other wildlife has been less able than the beavers to cope. Hundreds of tons of fish and countless freshwater mussels have been dying as waters have receded, said Magnus Wessel, head of nature conservation policy for the environmental group BUND.

Causes for the die-offs include greater concentrations of pesticides and other toxins due to the lower volume of water, boat traffic riding closer to the riverbeds, the increased number of boats on the rivers and less oxygen in the water, Wessel said.

And, of course, the obvious.

“If you live underwater and you don’t have water above you, you’re dead,” he said.

———-

Frank Jordans in Berlin and Daniel Niemann in Cologne contributed to this story.

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[vdbstore-blog]

New Post has been published on Vintage Designer Handbags Online | Vintage Preowned Chanel Luxury Designer Brands Bags & Accessories

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Cruise control: Chanel pushes the boat out with ambitious show | Fashion

Docking a 148-metre-long ship with on-board piano bar, swimming pool and a passenger list of Hollywood stars in the centre of Paris is a bold statement of ambition, luxury and elegance. It is indicative of Karl Lagerfeld’s world view that the setting for his latest Chanel catwalk show was, in fact, plan B.

“We wanted to set sail, to take you on an actual cruise,” shrugged Bruno Pavlovsky, Chanel’s president of fashion, before the show on Thursday night. “We worked on a plan for two years, but to find the perfect boat proved impossible.”

The replica boat, named La Pausa after Chanel’s villa in the Cote d’Azur, took a month to install inside the Grand Palais, detailed down to the sound of creaking ropes and distant seagulls, and was the backdrop for clothes that revived the Chanel of a Breton stripe-wearing Coco on holiday. Cream ribbed sweaters had anchor-stamped gold buttons and wide white trousers were worn with deck-friendly flat shoes.

Evening dresses were bugle beaded, while the house tweed suit turned up with a skater-shaped skirt and cropped jacket. City black was swapped for sea blues and candy stripes. The mood was Coco at Deauville, with a dash of Duran Duran’s Rio. After a show featuring 80 outfits, all 900 guests were invited onto the upper and observation decks for champagne, Negroni cocktails, seafood and truffle chips.

Models walk the runway during the Chanel show at the Grand Palais. Photograph: Stephane Cardinale/Corbis via Getty Images

The French venue and mood – previous Chanel cruise collection shows have taken place in Dubai and Havana – reflected a new closeness between the French fashion industry and government. Emmanuel Macron’s drive to promote Paris as an international capital of savoir-faire and dynamic business recently saw French designers honoured at a gala dinner at the Élysée Palace, while Melania Trump’s haute couture Chanel gown at last month’s state dinner was interpreted as one of the signs the French president’s trip to Washington had been a success for France.

“Macron is engaged, he understands what luxury is about, he understands savoir-faire and a creative business model. Of course that makes a difference to us,” said Pavlovsky. “But we were investing in Paris before Macron was here,” he added, referring to Chanel’s trusteeship of specialised fashion ateliers and sponsorship of the Grand Palais, for which the brand is bankrolling a $40m (£30m) renovation.

Of Brigitte Macron’s clear preference for rival brand Louis Vuitton, which the French president’s wife wears for most engagements – she has never been photographed wearing Chanel Pavlovsky would say only: “I have met her several times, and she is extremely nice. [What she wears] is her choice, of course. At Chanel we are not pushy.”

Coco on holiday: a model displays Chanel’s sea-inspired collection. Photograph: Stephane Cardinale/Corbis via Getty Images

Chanel is also taking a socially responsible stance. To counter criticism of the wastefulness of extravagant sets being accessible only to an elite audience, Chanel will invite schoolchildren and the families of employees to events on La Pausa. “And after that, the whole set will be recycled, upcycled or repurposed,” said Pavlovsky. “Nothing will be thrown away.”

The Francophile mood is the most striking trend to emerge from the season of cruise shows, which Chanel kicked off in Paris. Christian Dior, which staged last year’s event in California, will show its collection in the grand stables of the Château de Chantilly, 30 miles from Paris. Louis Vuitton will swap last year’s Japanese location for the French riviera, while even Gucci – a storied Italian brand, but owned by the Paris-based Kering – moves from Florence to Arles.

Aside from Prada, showing in New York in this weekend’s run-up to the Met Gala, and MaxMara, who will stay in their hometown of Reggio Emilia, the centre of gravity during fashion’s increasingly important cruise season is very much in France.

The cruise shows, which span the month of May, see the most powerful names in the fashion industry go head to head. Only the industry’s highest rollers, who can afford the eye-popping expense of staging a show spectacular enough to draw the world’s attention in one 20-minute slot, can afford to compete in this unofficial Champions League of fashion. The egg-box structure on a man-made island in Dubai which Chanel built as a catwalk for a pearl-themed collection in 2015, a nod to the emirate’s 1,000-year pearl diving industry, was said to have cost $1.7m. The pay-off is that “at fashion week, you have 20 minutes for us and then it’s on to the next show. At cruise it is just about Chanel,” said Pavlovsky.

Karl Lagerfeld with Virginie Viard at the end of show. Photograph: Bertrand Rindoff Petroff/Getty Images

Coco Chanel pioneered cruise as a fashion concept. Collections go on sale in November, originally aimed at affluent women packing for a Caribbean winter cruise who did not wish to be seen again in dresses they had worn that summer but could find nothing appropriate in stores full of winter clothes. Wearable rather than trend-driven, colourful and upbeat, designed with comfort and flexibility in mind, cruise has outgrown its ocean-liner origins to find a modern market among women looking for wearable but Instagram-friendly pieces for the festive party season. “Of the eight collections in a year, in terms of sales, cruise will be at number one or two,” said Pavlovsky.

The Wertheimer brothers who own the controlling interest in Chanel have never disclosed revenues, which are estimated to be around $6bn each year, but the brand still has no plans to sell clothes online. “We do a lot, digitally. We are number one on Instagram, for instance,” said Pavlovsky. “But I believe if we sell our customer a jacket for £7,000, we have a responsibility to make sure that it fits her properly.”

Karl Lagerfeld took his bow accompanied by his longtime studio director Virginie Viard, once again fuelling speculation of a handover. Chanel insist that any discussion of a successor to Lagerfeld, who has a lifetime contract at Chanel, is disrespectful to the 84-year-old designer who has led the house for 35 years.

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[allengmshaw-blog]

Family members Affair! David And Victoria Beckham Step Out To Assistance Son Brooklyn At His Photo

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