#spectacular-eliot

[entropysoup]

if anyone would be in the position of wondering how this is going, im making them a makeshift High King The Spectacular crown out of buttons to match my crocheted King The Moderately Socially Maladjusted crown :)))

I FOUND SOMEONE to rewatch the magicians with (they've never seen it) I THINK ITS GOING TO BE SO SPECIAL

[bcacstuff]

Exploring the Hunku - By Jake Norton (part 2)

When you find a field of sunpati, enjoy it!

Peak 41 rises sharply above Kongme Dingma.

Winds abated, and we spent a stunning day alternating between rest and relaxation, fueling up with copious water and calories, handwashing clothes in icy streams and ourselves as well if we could stand it. Sam, Tshering, and I also spent a couple hours playing on a nearby ice flow, fixing a rope and practicing Sam’s technique with crampons and ice ax, ascending a line and rappelling the same. As expected, he was a natural, making it all seem like old hat, cruising up and down with a smile and confidence seasoned precisely with the right amount of fear and respect for the terrain waiting days ahead on the Amphu Laptsa.

And with that, Part 1 of our trek - the new trail from Chheskam to Kongme Dingma, the Mahakulung Muddhi-Kongmedingma Trail - was finished. The next day we’d enter the alpine, trekking along an established, but seldom used, trail through alpine lakes under serrated behemoths, then up and over the high Amphu Laptsa pass and into the Khumbu. The days before were, as I’d hoped, spectacular, replete with everything a trek in the Himalaya can deliver (but often does not): scenery, solitude, adventure, great company, and memories galore. And, of course, some exploration.

Moonrise over Chamlang from Kongme Dingma.

As mentioned above, we didn’t chart new territory, make a daring first ascent, or add new data to the geographic lexicon. But, we did explore, all of us. We explored areas that were new to us, new to most. We explored new ways to help the villages of Mahalulung - and the thousands of souls who live there - develop and establish sustainable trekking and the income that goes with it. And, perhaps most saliently, we explored ourselves, pushing our own boundaries even just a little, probing the possible, exiting comfort zones and finding joy through hardship, toil, laughter, and camaraderie. Like TS Eliot wrote in Little Gidding back in the last century, an ode less to Magellanic exploration and more to that of the personal:

We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, remembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning… - TS Eliot, Little Gidding excerpt from "Four Quartets"

Stay tuned for Part 3 of this story - the Hunku alpine zone, Amphu Laptsa, and Khumbu - coming soon.

(see part 1 of this article here)

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Recently I've been going back and reading some of my old SGA fic (some of my best, most interesting writing is there, most of it deeply overlooked because it was about violence and grief, with tangential romantic content or none at all, and of course that's never really been Hot Ticket stuff in fandom; I get it), and after I ran out of that, I decided to reread Pretty Good Year.

And, you know, when you read something you've written years later, obviously there's always little stuff that bumps you – that seems overly repetitive or too wordy or whatever your personal sins are as a writer, and you wish you hadn't done this or done it that way or whatever. Mostly it really is just “whatever,” but there's one really spectacular fuck-up in that story that I knew was there, but it continues to bug me more and more over time. And it really is just an error, and not a sign of my growth or whatever, because I meant it to be there and I just. Forgot. I was in a hurry trying to get it done and I forgot to put it in there, but there was supposed to be a line somewhere in the final chapter about the tight scheduling around their East Coast trip because of having to work around Eliot's rehearsal schedule, and I hate that I didn't work it in, because without it there's actually no resolution to his final conversation with Idri. You might guess that after considering it Eliot agreed to take the role, but nothing in the story ever tells you that.

And that honestly really bothers me, because it actually matters to the Themes and Motifs and shit of the story, which is a story that (sneakily) actually begins before chapter 1 – it begins in Los Angeles, even though you only get the Los Angeles story doled out in pieces throughout the text. It's important to the story that you know there was originally another version of Eliot, who is actually this universe's version of “Brakebills Eliot” – someone who was bolder and braver and more proactive, who struck out on his own at 18 to chase his dream and find his forever home and all that – Eliot the hustler, Eliot the actor, Eliot the Spectacular. And you learn, over the course of the fic, what happened to that Eliot: that he didn't have a Hollywood story, that his personal and professional lives in LA were both mostly too much effort for no real reward. That he burned out, and then he was betrayed, and that he never really recovered from that; on page 1 he's living this bleak, uninspiring life, paralyzed by ennui, with no idea where he's headed except to keep doing what he's doing forever. The version of Eliot that opens PGY is actually inspired specifically by the defeated, traumatized Eliot in the final few episodes of season 1 – the version that begins when he breaks down after killing Mike, and ends when Quentin crowns him High King. That's actually the whole story, right? It's a PTSD-ridden Eliot, afraid to get back out in the world, who's kind of plucked out of obscurity and chosen to be The One, and the story question is whether or not he can live up to this metaphorical coronation.

Fundamentally the answer is obviously that he can, because while it was impossible for him to get back on his feet after LA for his own sake, he's stronger when he does it all for this family who desperately needs him to be their linchpin if they're going to stay together. But I really didn't want the story to be entirely about the glories of Eliot discovering that he's an excellent tradwife – although it's not not about that, and he definitely is – because I don't honestly think Living For the Ones Who Need You is a great life plan, you know? I didn't want that to be the one and only key to Eliot's kingship/adulthood, so there was always this second story woven in about the other loss that Eliot suffered when Los Angeles collapsed in on him. The first real thing Quentin says to him, the thing that digs into Eliot enough to shift him from this sort of lazy, semi-interested seduction into genuine interest in Quentin, is that Quentin asks him what he does creatively. In whatever intuitive way, Quentin sees that Eliot is fundamentally A Creative, and connects to that and he values it, which starts to give Eliot permission to connect to it and value it again. These exchanges about Eliot the Artist are critical to the story all the way through: when he sings to Quentin, when Quentin gives him the piano and the theater tickets, when he gets the Wellspring job because of the costume he made, the gift of the sewing room, the conversation about The Greatest Showman. It's the B-story to the whole thing, that Eliot had written himself off as a failed actor, but is starting to wake up to the image of himself that he sees reflected back from Quentin, this talented, creative person who makes beautiful things and makes things beautiful. One of my favorite little punctuation marks in the story is when a drunk Quentin introduces Eliot to the wedding guests, and his go-to in vino veritas summary of who Eliot is is basically, “MY BOYFRIEND IS AN ARTIST.”

Chapter 13 is obviously the story's climax, and its job was to essentially Show Not Tell that Eliot has achieved the goals that I forced onto him, which had more or less four aspects: he had to be the one who saves Quentin from drowning, he had to be not just a generic Good Parent but a good father because of he himself authentically being one, he had to kind of put a final seal on the pact with Margo so that we know for sure his partnership with her is real and not going to be transcended or left behind so he can be Q's romantic hero, and he had to actually acknowledge that he is a Theater Kid forever, that he was wrong to leave behind a part of him that he loved and that sustained him internally just because it won't ever make him famous. I needed all those things to be in place for me to feel like Eliot was closing out the story successfully, and most of that happens in chapter 13: the Teddy story is punctuated in that conversation they have at the beginning of the chapter, the Quentin story is punctuated partially with the paired doctor and hospital trips, but emotionally I think is punctuated when they have the fight in between and Eliot manages to end with “I love you” anyway, the Margo story is punctuated by the intense privacy of their comfort sex and with Eliot being the one for the first time who holds the door open on them having kids – but that fourth storyline really doesn't come up in 13. It's punctuated by the conversation with Idri in chapter 12, when Idri sees right through Eliot's attempts to hide how exhausted he is by being so extensively, endlessly Needed, and says that when he was in the same position, he had theater as a lifeline. He pays it forward by passing that lifeline to Eliot, and even though I didn't think Eliot was ready in that exact moment to wrap his head around it, I always thought it was completely essential to the story for Eliot to say yes to that lifeline, just like he said yes to Ted and Quentin and Margo.

But he actually didn't say yes. And I meant to show that it had happened! I really, really intended to put something in chapter 14 that showed Eliot going back to acting in spite of the way it had let him down before, exactly in parallel to the way he went back to love and family in spite of the way he'd only ever been let down by those. It feels really essential that all those things end up closed up, rounded off, settled, and it drives me a little insane that one of them didn't. But now you know, I guess, that Eliot was in a community theater production of Fiddler on the Roof that summer, and also everyone thought he was terrific, and he loved every minute of it.

[nonreplicakitties]

Cats, Marriott Theatre, 2014

[onceuponaroast]

@lemissingmask I am kissing you on the lips rn

Damn it, I wish I could draw. I would love to do Eliot with the hairstyle Sophie had in the Turkish Prisoner job.

Tell me it wouldn’t look good! 

I think it’s criminal they don’t do more with Eliot’s hair beyond a ponytail.

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Ironically, I think Eliot Spencer would look spectacular in an aggressively buckled ensemble

[fruitcoops]

Resurrection

Fic O'Ween Day 13: Resurrection, for a continuation of last year's Season of the Witch. Endless love to @noots-fic-fests for another spectacular fest, and of course all the kudos to @lumosinlove for bringing this community together <3 Happy belated Halloween! Thanks for sticking through another year! This fic o'ween was simply a joy to be part of.

There is a house on Lacewing Drive.

This is not that house.

This house is located on Collins Street, a block east of Lacewing Drive. Passerby marvel at its vibrant colors and sturdy bones—friends of the inhabitants joke that it’s simply a gingerbread house, come to life. A street dead-ended by a house so fantastical, it couldn’t possibly be a place people live.

Collins Street is kind enough to divert attention from its (notably odder) neighbor in spite of the creeping vines that continuously attempt to tiptoe across backyard fences. Autumn stretches into being with a yawn and a lazy roll from sun to wind to biting cold, and with it, the earth below Lacewing Drive charges with anticipation. It is the duty of the house on Collins Street to take the brunt of tourist curiosity, and it does so with gusto: peaking eaves, rounded lintels, and statuesque windows draw all wandering eyes while the magic begins to seep forth.

That is not to say there is no real magic outside Lacewing Drive. An argument can (and has) been made that there is more magic on Collins Street, actually, and perhaps the tall dark-haired witch at 126 Lacewing should keep her mouth shut. These beloved arguments frequently go nowhere at all. That does not seem to stop them from happening.

Regardless of presumed magical ratio, November is a quiet month for all. The magic is receding, changing, growing ready for the lumbering of winter and resurrection in the spring. Dormant? Never. Drowsy? Most certainly. The rainy days will start soon enough, then the snow. First frost nibbles the sills every other night. There’s still time for a last harvest before everything goes down, but not much.

November 6th dawns chilly and gray. Lily stretches, yawns, and lazily rolls onto her other side with a mumble of nothing in particular. The window dressings were left open the night before; goosebumps prick her arms, and she burrows down under the burgundy duvet with only a whisper of a shiver.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“Hrngerfrng.”

“I never get hangovers. You know this.”

Lily’s grumble is lost in a silky pillowcase. Her hair spills in a loose auburn flood to the top of her shoulders before vanishing under cotton and satin thread. The sudden supercharge of magic takes a toll on her—perhaps not as severe as Remus when the seasons change and the moon hangs heavy, but enough to make her head throb and her mouth go dry with the drain of each ritual. A magical hangover, she had complained the first year they moved to Collins Street. That’s what this is. Someone get me hashbrowns, stat.

James flips to a new page and slides a few inches lower under the blanket. It’s a good morning. A quiet morning. Another Halloween, gone without a hitch. Sirius’ raging birthday party, lighting up the neighborhood long past midnight if not for the layers of diversion spells wrapped around the little cottage. The lull is sweet as fresh chai and warms the belly just as deep. Even the newspaper is quiet today, full of lovely, inconsequential things typed up by Eliot Johannes three doors down. The neighbors feel the roar toward Samhain just like the witches do, though they may not know the reason.

November is the exhale after a two-month gasp for air. James is more than happy to spend the morning in bed, enjoying each moment of it.

Harry will be up soon. Seven years old and likely still riding out the sugar rush bestowed upon him by his aunts, who just don’t know how to put candy bowls out of reach—he’s practically unstoppable like this. Like his mother. James loves them both so dearly.

Lily’s hand emerges from the sheets to flail around. “Jamie,” she rasps. “Baby?”

“He’s asleep.”

“Mm. Coffee?”

“Downstairs,” James laughs, squinting at the ‘Best Rated’ section. “Probably with my glasses.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then peeks out with one sleepy, hopeful green eye. “Get some for me?”

“Glasses? Sure.”

“Coffee.”

“You’re a real monster in the mornings, you know that?”

“November,” she offers by way of explanation. “Need coffee.”

“You have got to start listening to Remus.”

“The day I drink chamomile to make myself feel better is the day I go in the ground forever.”

She can’t see James’ eye roll from her faceplant in downy pillows, but rest assured, dark eyes are undoubtedly rolled. Fond, all the same. James is spellbound by her in every sense except the literal and everyone knows it; neither would change a thing about it. It’s mornings like this that make it count. Sore from dancing on Sirius’ dining room table, buzzed from the tingly residue of Samhain magic, both so pleased to wake up beside one another for the thousandth consecutive day.

They built the house on Collins Street together, the four of them, back when love was muddled and confusing with its deep, deep roots. There’s a touch of them in every paint chip and floorboard. Remus’ rich earth tones, Sirius’ stained glass. James and Lily kept the place once they were all sorted, and as such there isn’t a speck of house left without their signatures. Scorch marks from Lily’s cauldrons and scuff marks from James’ boots. Crayon scars on silk wallpaper and vivid paint alike. Candle wax left so long that it may as well be part of the desk, now, because spirits know the actual holder is too far buried to be found again.

“Jamie.”

“Mhm.”

“Coffee.”

James smiles into ceramic molded by Lily’s own hands. “Yes, my love.”

“Mrs. Gibson tried to gimme some of that pumpkin spice creamer.” Lily manages to sound indignant even boneless and half-asleep. “Can you believe? Out of season?”

“No pumpkin spice,” James promises.

“I know you wouldn’t. Love me too much.”

“Sure do.”

Lily is silent for another handful of seconds. James watches them pass on Sirius’ handmade cuckoo clock. “Don’t want coffee.”

“No?”

She sighs and reaches out with both arms, giving a noise of pure contentment when James sets the mug aside and joins her under the covers. “This,” Lily says on a misty November day where nothing bad can touch them. “This is what I want.”

[amalgamatey]

I made the mistake of starting my rewatch of The Magicians and I am having a lot of Opinions on it, especially on a second watch with knowing the various character arcs. Lots of good stuff, but more bad stuff in the sense that the bad really puts a dark shadow over the good.

I will straight up admit I’ve never finished the book. I wanted to like it but it was SO cringe and incel that I just couldn’t do it. Maybe it got better past the first few chapters but the inner thoughts of an incel aren’t my idea of a good time.

The show tries to add shock value but it just leaves a really icky feeling behind. Eliot being sexually violated by The Beast in s1 and then being taken over in the later seasons is a good literary parallel but when taken with the gross amount of sexual violence in the show it just feels … ick. The number of times a character loses their agency in sexual situations leaves a really gross feeling behind, and the hyperfocus on it doesn’t feel like a literary choice so much as a mirror of the person who wrote it, if that makes sense? Martin’s abuse, Julia’s rape (and actually the way so many characters use her in general), the Margolem - they’re all variations of sexual violence that independent of each other would be story elements but together in the same show seem to be fetishmining.

That being said, I do enjoy the show outside of those points. I really love the characters (the cast is spectacular) and the world building. I love the way magic is cast. I love seeing them in these life or death situations, learning and going through everything, the library is so good, I love Fillory not being a utopia. I just … really wish there wasn’t such a strong undercurrent of sexual violence towards so many characters.

[bringbackwendellvaughn]

Entries for Hobgoblin and his glider from The Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe from 1983. Text by Mark Gruenwald and Peter Sanderson with character model by John Romita Jr. and the glider schematic by Eliot R. Brown. While I’m at it, that picture of Hobgoblin riding his glider is from the cover of Spectacular Spider-Man #85 by Al Milgrom.

An interesting relic as this was before the character’s identity was known (and before it became an unholy mess of U-turns) but the character’s creator Roger Stern always intended him to be Roderick Kingsley while subsequent writer Tom DeFalco planned for him to be Richard Fisk. Neither of these sensible resolutions came to pass under the editorial of Jim Owsley (a.k.a. Christopher Priest) who fumbled it, quite spitefully, and left it to Peter David to solve the mystery by revealing the deceased Ned Leeds was actually Hobgoblin and he had been replaced by Jason Macendale (formerly Jack o’Lantern) almost immediately after Ned’s death. Eventually, Roger Stern went back and retconned it and restored the idea that Roderick Kingsley was the original Hobgoblin but by that point the character has already been tarnished with one of the most botched secret identities in comics and it makes one yearn for a time when his real name and everything personal about him remained “Unknown”.

[clarajohnson]

the magicians s2e1

i so enjoy seeing quentin coldwater in peril

fucking random ass candy house that'll never come back into play

it's a little hard to kill me at the moment :-(

jesus the way he says "thank god, alice" is really kind of devastating he's so transparent sometimes

margo is ruthless she's my best friend in the entire world

sometimes they say things in ways that are so much, like, you know they're lines of dialogue. like "wellspring smoothies," nobody would say that. i love tv :-)

not enough being done about PENNY'S MISSING HANDS

WE MIGHT BE COMIC RELIEF !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i always hesitate to give this show any credit because it is 90% loose ends but i do like the beast choosing to talk business with julia at a... discovery zone? a chuck e cheese? because he's in kind of insanely malformed arrested development

FENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

she is immediately a character man i like fen so much

"oh my god those horses are so beautiful. i just really love horses." and that's why she is my babyest best girl ever ever ever ever ever

love el's flower spell. i feel like some aspects really kick up quickly in season 2, for example, the magic becomes much more interesting!

sorry i really like julia this season she's awful and justified

the beast is reminding me very very much of hannibal lecter this watch. sixth finger nice suit etc.

river watch guy why do i get a bad feeling about him what don't i remember

ah but i did forget that she really did sew his hands back on. so much private brutality goes on in this show.

it's a good point penny that IS a natural resource on public property

sorry but i do not believe at all that margo could be cowed by an asshole like that i actually find it kind of insulting

el's smile when margo calls high queen I WILL CRY

is everybody excited to cry during this coronation :-) i'm excited for the crying :-)

i love fillorian royalty nineties trivia "dude that is crazy vague"

alice and margo both know "hold on" by wilson phillips because they are romantic soulmates

quentin playing with the straps of his backpack... kiss me on the mouth autistic boy

did anybody else get kind of flustered when eliot did the dirty dancing monologue. like other than alice who was clearly really flustered.

sorry but it's so so so fucking significant that q is the one to crown el and i love how immediately el cries and i love destiny is bullshit and i think it's so beautiful and i love it and i do not love "the spectacular" because to make eliot's life's purpose into spectacle discomfits me but i also love very much "this feels as natural as underwear" AND I ALSO LOVE the way he is so happy and proud of margo, the way everything they say to each other is public but also encrypted so only they can understand it completely and i love the moment he crowns alice and they come to sort of an understanding, this common ground, the way he doesn't love her but cares about her, also the fact that margo asks to crown q in a moment of "cleaning slates" and that she can see him so clearly, they're an underrated dynamic and i will always love king quentin the moderately socially maladjusted because to margo the important things couldn't ever be public they should never be known to others, your public title can be a joke so the deep lovey stuff can be kept sacred between friends. THIS IS THE SCENE OF ALL TIME.

royalty, bitches

i'm happy that alice gets to do extraordinary magic yk

well we don't have to work very hard to understand what they're saying by making alice not only pluck an apple from a tree but grow the tree herself

idk if i believe that julia would even consider voluntarily shedding her shade

tick pickwick my best frenemy tick pickwick

i'm glad we made it to the castle i love whitespire

sometimes the show makes jokes that make me believe they hadn't planned very far ahead because "spells for trapping tomato-eating garden fairies" does not make me believe they had the idea of actual magicians fairies yet

i would like to be known as... the champagne king

quentin is leaning against that doorframe as flirtily as he can manage

i think you should probably hug me right now :-( i'll also be okay if you just give my ass like a liiiittle squeeze :-)

[erodingsinner]

Leverage 2x07 incredible showstopping spectacular. The team meeting alternate version of themselves, Eliot and the woman getting horny while fighting eachother?! The whole simultaneous con/robbery, and Sophie realizing she's been playing a role so long no one knows the real Sophie, not even herself. Sad but great stuff. Also Parrish from Eureka cameo ?? New fav episode for sure.

[eliotqueliot]

@magicians4time and I have been having the time of our lives making this crossover--The Magicians/Queliot with Howl's Moving Castle! I love Librarity's fic, it's really beautiful, and every idea is spot-on! And it's been so much fun talking about all the parallels and making art! Please check out our collaboration--we're continuing to make more! Librarity already has the next chapter ready, so it will go up as soon as I finish the art. Which I'm getting back to work on--Now!

We Could Build a Castle (1422 words) by Librarity, EliotQueliot Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater & Julia Wicker Characters: Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater, Margo Hanson, Theodore "Ted" Rupert Coldwater-Waugh, Julia Wicker, Jane Chatwin Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, Magic, Slow Burn, Eliot Waugh still runs from his feelings, Idiots in Love, Eliot Waugh the Spectacular, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Oblivious Quentin Coldwater, Oblivious Eliot Waugh, Magical Boys, Teddy knows best, Didn't Know They Were Dating, So Married, Quentin Coldwater has no idea about anything, Endgame Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Howl!Eliot, Sophie!Quentin, Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because why wouldn't we

[inloveforbritish]

hey, I wrote a Oneshot of an Oc of mine and Gil Pender

English is not my native language, in fact I am Brazilian. I will post the original version in Portuguese too but for now stick with the English version. There will probably be errors in the English language because I put most of the things for Google Translate to do in English (Don't judge me, I'm still newbie at this).

Previously: Gil, on one of his trips to Paris in the 1920s, met a young attendant at a local cafe from the 20s who was walking along the narrow river Seine, known as Julye.

(the oc is of legal age)

Word count: 2611 words.

the denial of living in the present ♡

Gil Pender is an idiot man from Pasadena, California, in the United States and is about to marry an authoritarian preppy named Inez.

Since Gil got engaged to Inez, he has been having frequent panic attacks. He never understood the real meaning of his attacks, however, he thought it must be something about the book he was writing or his work as a Hollywood screenwriter.

Gil and Inez visited and stayed at a hotel in Paris.

The reason for this was that as Inêz's parents had done important business, the couple stayed for a while to enjoy the ride.

Inez was a beautiful and very intelligent woman, but she and her fiancé had almost nothing in common, the two were completely opposite people and not at all indifferent, Gil was always passionate about literature and the 20s, and dreamed of living in the City of Light after the wedding, more precisely in the rain as he told his fiancee, and he was willing to give up all his work as a screenwriter to become a writer, however, Inez wanted to live in Malibu, in the hot sand of California, after the wedding.

And although Gil loved his future wife there was something that made him feel out of place about her. Even when she had defended him from her own parents who criticized Gil about his illusions about politics and his choices.

But something happened as the couple's time in Paris went on.

In the blink of an eye, the two moved apart drastically, and of course the reason could have been that Inez had had a super crush since college on a man called Paul Bates, a kind of dashing gentleman who was going to give a lecture nearby. from Paris, And she stayed with this guy for a few nights in the meantime that Gil was taking his nightly "walks" to get even more inspired when he was going to write his romance.

However, Gil had no idea that she had kept the stupid pendant.

But Gil also had his secrets, for example: whenever (or almost every day) that Inez wanted to stay late somewhere with her parents or with Paul and Carol, he would always leave early and walk the streets of Paris until midnight and he did that instead of going to the Hotel Bristol where the two stayed waiting for Inez to return.

And when the clock struck midnight, a vintage car from the 1920s always passed by as if it were a taxi from the time and Gil always got into it because it would mean that he had gone to the year 1920, the year where he dreamed of living for so long. , it was a dream to be in Paris at that time where there were so many incredible artists and writers that he couldn't even describe, it was so spectacular.

And there he met the illustrious and talented F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Pablo Picasso, Gertrude Stein, Salvador Dali, Luis Boňuel, Man Ray, Ernest Hemingway and TS Eliot.

Gertrude Stein even read and evaluated the book that Gil Pender was finishing and it made his heart almost stop working with excitement.

EDuring these trips to 1920, Gil met a beautiful young girl, Adriana, he seemed to have liked or loved this young woman very much. She was known to be a prostitute and former lover of Picasso himself, but unfortunately, he himself realized that she was fascinated to other things like the golden age and I couldn't stop her from getting lost in another era trying desperately to fill her feeling of loneliness and emptiness.

Just like he did, but he would never admit it.

Gil discovered that Inez was probably cheating on him with Paul shortly after he returned to 2010 and he thought about this possibility with the help of words from one of his conversations with some of the best writers of the 1920s.

When he had the courage and discussed it with Inez, she simply admitted it after a while, causing the two to break up, as well as belittling him by calling him crazy, sick, among others.

Now, Gil no longer had Adriana, who lost her to the golden age, nor his ex-fiancée who left.

He was left ungrounded, confused, displaced but still free.

And now he was more anxious than ever walking around at 2 am in Paris in the 20th century...he knew he shouldn't be in another century trying desperately to escape all his morbid sadness that hit him like daggers in the back but therefore he he still couldn't stay definitively in 2010 knowing that he could live what he so longed to have.

He walked and walked while it was raining heavily on the narrow Seine River, he saw a young woman who made his eyes go a little wide and wide and made his heart flutter a little.

The beautiful lady was without any means of protection against the rain like Gil. She was wearing a loose and short black dress made of silk with satin gloves and black heels, she looked like she had just left a ball at that time, she had beautiful light blonde hair in the style of an almost classic Bob. like Marilyn Monroe.

The lady looks at Gil, seeing the man in a gray suit and red tie there looking at her fascinated, she approached him and spoke without hesitation, her voice was soft and sweet, as if it were a beautiful melody from Cole Porter's classic songs.

-Bonjour, you are lost? - she says looking at Gil, still unsure about the man.

- hey! Yes, I mean, no. -Gil says no with a fake, high-pitched laugh at the end of the sentence.

The woman nodded and turned to leave, but she stopped when she heard the man's voice again.

- Excuse me but are you American? - He asked hesitating while breathing faster. "What the hell got into you?" he mentally asked himself.

- no, I'm just a random Parisian but I learned to speak American English a few years ago - the woman smiles slightly, her red lipstick stands out on her adorable face .

- Could I know your name? - Gil asked, he had his hands in the pockets of the black dress pants he was wearing as he asked.

- well...my name is Julye, and would you be it? - Julye looks at him a little confused, the rain started to get thicker making the lady cross her arms and look down.

- oh, my name is Gil Pender - he speaks awkwardly and sees that Julye was bothered by the rain that had gotten heavier, he then went to her and guided her gentlemanly to under the bridge.

He was always taught by his mother to be a good gentleman, so he lightly puts his arm around Julye as they walk under the bridge out of the rain, she still looks at him suspiciously but with a hint of gratitude in her eyes. almost cyan blue.

- Oh, I'm sorry, I just wanted to make you less uncomfortable in this rain - Gil says, trying to clarify his intentions.

- Should I say thank you? - Julye says smiling sarcastically.

- I don't think it's necessary and if I may, why are you wearing that dress? It's cold today in Paris, you could catch a cold - Gil says with an air of doubt because although the woman looked stunning in the dress he didn't see the point in wearing it on this specific night.

- oh..well, I was in a bar before it started raining with Zelda and Scott - she says raising her face up to look at Gil, she was shorter than him.

-Zelda and Scott? Like the Fitzgeralds?

-Yes, themselves, do you know them? - Julye says looking into Gil's eyes when he asked.

- Yes! Yes, I've been out with them twice and I really admire Scott - he remembered, he was in 1920! He couldn't say how good Scott and Zelda were as if he were talking to someone in 2010 - but, well, on that note, what does a woman like you do?

-I'm an attendant at a local coffee shop, you should visit there, I work from nine in the morning to six in the afternoon - Julye says while looking away from Gil.

Gil blushed, the pretty girl invited him to go to the cafe where she works in such an adorable way? Yes, and it left him like a little pepper. Between that, he knew he could never go, especially because he only has access to Paris in the twentieth century from midnight to dawn... that is, he could never see it in his daily life.

- Thank you for the invitation, I will certainly go to the cafe - he says lying, The two then walked to a local bar out of the rain and in the meantime they talked about various things and Gil even forgot about his sadness about his and Inez's separation.

When the two arrived in front of the bar but didn't go in and instead they sat on a bench where the rain didn't hit and continued talking, and so much time passed that Julye ended up sleeping with her head on Gil's chest.

And certainly, Gil loved it and even stroked her hair while she slept. When he realized that it was going to dawn, he placed the lady on a bench and laid her down gently and placed his jacket on her, he left and as he walked through the streets, he realized that he had gone back to 2010, he looked back at that same place but he didn't even know. There was more bench, it was replaced by a large pole and the bar was now a jewelry store.

He gave a weak smile and sighed deeply - I'll see you again, I promise, Julye.

And so he did. Every day after midnight he goes back to 1920 just to look for the woman, he even knew her address so he could go to her house.

They talked about everything, Gil talked to Julye about cognitive actions and the fear of death that everyone has and at the end of the night, he always ends up leaving or sleeping on his shoulder. They understood each other, they talked about everything, literature, arts, artists, the future, their personal lives and more.

Julye didn't understand why Gil didn't want to see her during the day, they are friends and friends see each other during the day, she thought, so why is that?

On one of Gil's trips to 1920, he found Julye in a square near the elfiel tower. He hugged her and greeted her.

- Julye! It's good to see you - he says sweetly and smiles at her.

- Bonjour, Gil... - she says, leaving the hug, her eyes made it seem like she was in a dilemma.

- what happened? You look thrilled - Gil puts his hand on her shoulder and his face had such a softness that it would easily make someone tell him what he was hiding.

-I don't understand you sometimes. You say we are friends but we never meet during the day and you always disappear and then pretend that none of this happened... why is that? - Julye says a little angry and sad at the same time.

Gil pulls her and comforts her, and starts to talk - look... it's okay, I know I haven't been giving you explanations but I'm just trying not to hurt you and apparently I failed at that, I'm sorry - he says as he watches Julye lay on his chest.

- Look, you know when you have one kind of life during the day and at night it's like you're in another life? - Gil says, lifting Julye's face to look at her face to face.

- I think so... - Julye says quietly - so you kind of have two different lives?

-It's almost that, but I'll tell you something, when I'm here, with you I feel like this is my place - Gil smiles and Julye also smiles lightly caressing her cheek.

Even though Gil lied about some things, not all of them were lies, he really feels like when he's with Julye it's like he's in the right place.

The two stayed there, hugging each other, feeling the breeze of the wind, they were both in the early morning moonlight.

Gil sometimes wondered if he and Julye could be more than friends, but he never really persisted with that thought. .

He decided to lighten the mood by changing the route of his affairs.

- Julye, do you think I would be a good writer?

- Yes for sure! You are incredible at writing and if it is your passion then you should embrace it and not be afraid of failure - she says smiling, she has always supported Gil in all possible circumstances.

- Don't exaggerate, I'm not that good - Gil says and smiles seeing Julye pout.

- I disagree, you are very good at writing, you are like a poet - Julye says persisting in the idea - you should at least try to do what you like.

- Thank you, you really know how to keep me going - Gil smiles at her - that's what friends are for - Julye says and smiles too, she takes Gil's arm and the two walk down the sidewalk together.

- friends...yes, we are friends - Gil says walking with her.

At the end of the night, Julye turned to Gil and gave a smile that was pleasant to see.

- so this is where I say goodbye to you.

- Yes, I know, but first I want to test one of the theories Ernest Hemingway told me a while ago - Gil says, taking her hand.

-And what theory would that be? - She asked with a hint of curiosity.

Then Gil lightly pulled her by the waist until their lips connected.

He kissed her sweetly but firmly, Julye returned the kiss with the same soft intensity, placing her arms around Gil's neck and the two of them deepened the kiss, totally immense at the moment.

Julye bit Gil's lower lip, asking for passage and Gil gave in, making Julye slide her tongue into his mouth where their tongues meet, they now have their tongues almost dancing in Gil's mouth fighting for dominance.

They separate when they both become short of breath.

- so that was your theory? - Julye says breathlessly.

- Not exactly, but it made me realize and feel many things and one of the things I felt for those seconds when I kissed you was that I was able to dazzle immortality for a while - Gil says smiling, giving Julye a light peck.

It's like Ernest Hemingway said and believed that the moment two people who have a true passion kiss or have sexual relations, they can create a truce over the fear of dying and that's exactly what Gil felt with Julye, he managed for a few moments get a glimpse of what it's like to be immortal.

He felt like his heart was going to explode with so much love and he wanted to show Julye that day but time was about to run out so they said goodbye with a few more passionate kisses and sweet words of affirmation, and went each their way.

And Gil was still certain at that moment, he would still do and give all the love that Julye deserved.

[oawiejt]

getting a starter even though it wasn’t asked for.

The work can be tedious - tending to objects that would later be auctioned for more money than she would ever see in a life time.  It was mostly historic pieces that were found in attics after loved ones passed.  Some of her favorites were the trinkets - old lockets with hand painted portraits, antique jewelry with gems the size of marbles.  Each one was cleaned and restored with care. But every now and then, something truly interesting would come across her table...something that couldn’t be explained by any human knowledge, and though she was told not to ask questions, it was hard not to.  Which is why she reached out to a suggested contact, someone whose knowledge surpassed that of a normal capacity.  But even still, when the door to her domain swung open, the. being that strolled through was not what she expected.

“You’re the expert?”  She asked, her brow raising slightly as she took in the other’s straight back, straighter haircut, and the slight curve of the ears, ending in a point.  He looked absolutely at home among the cold steel.  “Follow me.”  Eliot angled her head, beckoning for him to follow her to a cabinet where she input a code and reached for a box. She tapped her nails on the top, almost as if she was going to reconsider, before raising the lid and presenting it.  On a soft bed of silk rested a sphere that looked as if it would fit in the palm of the hand - but it’s what swirled inside that made it truly spectacular - the color went from a black, to a deep blue, into the lightest of purples - depending on how you looked at it.  But had pin point sparkles that shone and created their own light.  “What do you make of this?”

@fasciinating​

[squidsquadlove]

Do you think keeping Joey means saying goodbye to Driedger (or did you mean Gibson)? I know Driedgs has a big contract but I wonder if Joey will come up to the Kraken, Driedgs anchors CV, and it’s Jonesy who takes a contract elsewhere (equally heartbreaking for me, I love Martin Jones so much, but feel like I’ve been preparing for that for longer)….

Martin Jones was signed for one year specifically to replace an injured Driedger. A lot of us wanted to see Joey get the call-up, but Jones had a much stronger background in NHL games played, so I'm not surprised we went that way. I can't imagine we'll see him back, but I'd be surprised if he doesn't get another gig elsewhere! If I had to take a guess, I'd say maybe Anaheim. Maybe Winnipeg, if they move Hellebuyck.

As for Driedger, yes, I think Joey's contract means Driedgs is going, and for the sake of the cap. probably sooner rather than later. If we stash him in the minors, we're using $3,375,000 of our big league cap on him for one year (saving $1,125,000); if we buy him out, it's $3,000,000 for two years (saving $1,500,000); if we can get someone to trade for him, then if we retain max salary on him, we spend $2,250,000 (saving $2,250,000), and it could theoretically be less. But the fact that no one picked him up when we put him on waivers last year-- and he hasn't really shown anything since then, not his fault, but Joey was on FIRE-- means quite possibly no one wants to take a swing on him. 🥺 He's the kind of candidate who screams "future considerations" to me, and that's very sad and I don't like it one bit, but that's as much as two fourth-liners' salaries... $2,250,000 last year would have paid for Sprong, Borgen, and half of Froeden or Hayden, say. Or allowed us to pay for another UFA who had potential.

I think Driedger is awesome and would be a great 1A/1B goaltender. Grant Fuhr thought he looked good physically and just needed to get more playing time to get back to full speed. I would love to see him get a real chance at a full time job somewhere in the NHL. I will miss him immensely!

Meanwhile, the Coachella Valley fanbase will be DEVASTATED to lose Joey, even though it's a great opportunity for him. 🥺 But after his spectacular playoff performance, and EFFING JEFF MAREK pointing it out on his dumb show, THANKS MAREK, you big butthead, there is absolutely no way Joey would clear waivers to go back to CV. I don't want to lose him, and he's 3 years younger and way, way cheaper than Driedger. Plus he is absolutely getting a goalie goal in the NHL someday, just you wait. (At the cost of a few "IYAGTTG" moments, but such is life for a puckhandling goaltender.)

Last year I was ready to drive to KCI daily and hold a boombox over my head with a sign that said "RE-SIGN DONATO", and this year I'm not nearly as attached to him. I'm bereft at the thought of losing Geekie, but I've been saying for a full season that we won't be able to keep Sprong at a salary we'll pay for him. But who WILL we end up with?? Will Shane make the team for real? Surely Kartye is a lock! What about Kole Lind?? I think this year I am much, much more zen about roster changes. (Though I do snarl like a vampire exposed to sunlight every time Eliot Friedman suggests Shane Wright is in play for some deal. BACK THE FUCK OFF, FRIEDGE. HE IS NOT GOING ANYWHERE. OUR SHANE. OUR PRECIOUSSSSSS.)

All that to say: tomorrow may be a big news day for us. And we better lock down Dunn!

[whitepolaris]

Half Moon Meadow: A Solstice Sunrise Site

One of the most significant early sites in Middlesex County may be Half Moon Meadow Brook, located in Boxborough. It's most outstanding feature is its spectacular winter solstice sunrise alignment. There is also a summer sunrise alignment and a variety of interesting and enigmatic stonework. It is also the location of the last witchcraft accusations in Massachusetts.

The Half Moon Meadow site is within the original sixteen-square-mile boundary of the old Nashoba Praying Indian Village. Nashoba was established in 1651 under the guidance of John Eliot, the "Apostle to the Indians." Interestingly, the Indians were allowed to choose the locations of the Praying Villages-established in an effort to teach Christian ways-and it is believed that they chose their most religiously significant places. Two other important places within Nashoba are the nearby Beaver Brook Esker in Boxborough and the Sarah Doublet Forest in Littleton.

George Krusen, whose land abuts the property, first recognized the Half Moon Meadow Brook site. In 1988, he invited a friend, Byron Dix, to walk the area with him. Byron was immediately intrigued with what he saw. Among other things, he postulated that from a large flat rock in the west corner of the field, the winter solstice sun would rise in a cleft of a large bedrock ridge on the southeast side. He was proved to be absolutely correct.

When the land was put up for sale for house lots in 1998, George was instrumental in arranging for its purchase and preservation by the Sudbury Valley Trustees, a nonprofit conservation trust.

The Half Moon Meadow Brook site is at the junction of roads said to be an old Indian trail. The late Mark Strohmeyer, a writer with more than twenty years' experience in archaeology, believed the trail was specifically created by the Indians for access to the site. Strohmeyer was well acquainted with Half Moon Meadow Brook and entertained the possibility that there may have been a Native American presence there even in recent times.

The meadow is rectangular, approximately 355 feet long by 245 feet wide, bounded almost entirely by stone rows. The place from which the solstice sunrises are viewed is a low slab set in stone row at the western corner of the field. This is a massive slab, 14 inches thick and approximately 50 inches in diameter. In fact, all the stonework at this corner is quite large as compared to typical stone rows. It appears that this corner of the field, which is at the edge of a steep drop-off, was built up with stone to give it the needed elevation to view the sunrise points. -Daniel V. Bouldillion