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spencersawkward · 3 years

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switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 1

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

relationship: fem!OC/Spencer Reid

word count: 3.4k

hi all! welcome to my new story.

I've never written a baby Spence fic before, but I'm gonna try my best. I just wanted to get something out of the way before the book starts:

aside from the fact that it's young Spencer, this book isn't placed in a specific season. I might pull cases from different episodes, but the characters will remain the same. I've included Emily and Rossi as characters because I couldn't bear to have a story without either of them (wouldn't want to subject any of you to a Prentiss-less world).

that's pretty much it. I'm glad you're here. if you wanna read my other stories, my masterlist is here.

happy reading :)

"HA!" I slap my hand down on the pile of cards and slide it towards me, organizing them in a neat pile with a smug expression.

"this game is a sham." Spencer sighs, reaching for his book.

"you're just mad you lost." I raise an eyebrow and shuffle the cards again. "you don't wanna play another round?"

"why would I? the only skill this game requires is fast reflexes." he runs hazel eyes down the page with an alarming quickness. I scoff at his disinterest.

"maybe if you trained those reflexes as much as you trained that big genius brain of yours, you'd get a leg up." Morgan teases from his spot next to me. Spencer glances at him with a frown, his cheeks turning a light pink, before looking to me. I throw up my hands.

"he said it, not me." secretly, I smile at the fact that Derek is backing me up.

"I could beat any of you in poker." Reid defends.

"easily. it helps that I don't even know how to play." I slide the cards back into the holder and cross my arms over my chest with a sigh.

"you don't know how to play poker?" he's shocked.

"I told you, I hate card games like that!" I emphasize. things like poker, blackjack, anything that involves multiple players, I usually don't enjoy much. Emily glances up from her case file with a tiny smirk.

"why?"

"I'm a sore loser." I admit, averting my eyes. there's also the risk factor involved, which includes giving up coins or pretzels or peanuts if I lose. I tend to cling tightly to all three. Prentiss lets out a laugh and Spencer flips the page of his book.

"and winner, apparently."

"you're sassy today, aren't you?" I grin at him, pleasantly surprised.

in the month I've been working here, I haven't spoken to Spencer very much. he's been polite and I've gotten to know his intellect quite well, but he doesn't spend a lot of time with us outside of work. when we go out to get drinks, he either declines or heads home before we can even ask, a bag full of books pressed to his side.

I think he just takes a while to get comfortable around new people-- that's what JJ said when I asked why he seemed to be avoiding me. the fact that he played cards with me today felt like a victory in itself, so I'll take what I can get.

Spencer doesn't reply to my dig, only crosses his long, narrow legs and settles into his book.

"we should start briefing before we land." Hotch and Rossi walk over from their spots at the front of the plane to sit on the couch by our table. I nod eagerly and watch as Emily flips open her laptop to FaceTime Penelope about the case.

the first couple cases were more difficult than I expected because I had never worked in the field before joining the BAU, but I'm starting to get used to flying around constantly and examining actual dead bodies. working sex crimes meant I spent most of my time in front of a computer screen or just staying in the office. this is incredibly different-- which I'm starting to find might not to be a bad thing.

"--the virus killed her hard drive and left that on the screen." Penelope explains, referring to the picture of Heather Woodland's computer.

"'for heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself'." Morgan reads the message aloud from the case file. the words feel familiar in my mind and I try to remember where I've heard them before.

"that's exactly what William Heirens left behind." Spencer sparks the memory. I sit up straighter.

"the Lipstick Killer?" my fingertips trace over the case details. it's a weird aspect of the murder to emulate, especially because he didn't even leave the message in lipstick. I guess he's not really concerned with that; based on the unsub's previous victims, we have just under 36 hours to find her.

"his first victim was Melissa Kirsh, 26," Reid scratches his nose as he reads, frowning so hard that I start to think he'll form permanent wrinkles. he's got such a baby face, it's almost funny. "stab wounds, strangulation."

"so he stabbed her first, and then strangled her to finish the job?" Morgan repeats.

"what's with using a belt for the second murder?" Emily flips through the papers, confused. Spencer stiffens in his spot as he realizes this is the perfect time to share his freakishly expansive forensic knowledge.

"strangulation with your bare hands actually isn't as easy as you would believe. he probably tried it, found that it took too long, then stabbed her. and blood takes a long time to clean, so he decided a belt would be more efficient."

"he's perfecting his method." I can't tear my eyes away from the photos, despite the roiling sensation they put in my stomach. even with the things I've already seen, I don't think I'll ever get over photographs like this.

"we'll be landing soon and then we're meeting up with the Seattle field office. be ready to split up once we hit the ground." Hotch snaps shut his case file and stands up, breaking off to go sit alone. Rossi takes note of the old card deck that sits on the table.

"poker?" he looks between the four of us.

"nope." Emily chuckles.

"this one doesn't know how to play." Morgan gestures to me, causing Rossi to turn to me.

"were you raised in a barn?" he asks in his usual manner of speaking: blunt sarcasm with a hint of mockery. I frown sarcastically.

"something like that."

"at some point this week, we'll sit down and I'll teach you." he gets up, pats my shoulder, and walks over to join Hotch. I lower my voice once he's far enough away.

"is he actually gonna make me do that?"

"you don't know Rossi." Morgan shakes his head slowly, slides his headphones back on, and sinks into his seat.

"I'll join and bring JJ with me." Emily winks at me reassuringly, noting the tapping of my nail against the surface of the table. Rossi is a legend in the field and I've read all of his books, but didn't want to freak him out by telling him so. it was embarrassing enough when I met him and got tongue-tied while shaking his hand. he's got an elusive energy that intimidates me, and I'd prefer not to showcase that by humiliating myself with poker.

instead of dwelling on thoughts of how I'm going to fail in front of my idol, I open up one of my books and try to pass the time.

...

while I'm writing some notes on one of the many white boards scattered throughout the field office, I realize that I'm one of four other women in the room, including Emily. she's talking to Hotch and another agent at the opposite end of the room; Reid is unpacking his signature book bag and seems deep in thought. Rossi is reading a document. everyone around me seems to be in a hurry to do something, and I begin to feel dumb.

"you okay?" Morgan asks me. I realize that I've been standing with my marker hovering over the board. my fingertips press into my temple before I turn to him.

"yeah, definitely. just thinking." my mind travels to the map we've got pasted up and the red marker lines that Spencer has already created with the geographical profile.

"looks like we're getting the classic Seattle treatment." Derek points outside to the rain pelting the windows, streaming down the glass and distorting the glow of the city outside. it's gloomy today, with a slight chill running through the streets. I nod and turn back to my task, suddenly realizing something.

"he's willing to travel with the body." I mutter to myself. Morgan steps up next to me, crosses his arms across his chest.

"he must drive a vehicle that can conceal one, then." he glances over to Hotch to see what the unit chief has to say, but Spencer speaks up first.

"one in seven point four drivers in Seattle owns an SUV." it's like a flip switches at the mention of a statistic, diverting his attention from something nebulous in his mind to the tangible case. he's a little similar to a robot.

"an Explorer with tinted windows?" Morgan speaks again as he looks over the case photos.

"those rate higher among women." Spencer again.

"sure, but how do we know it's his car?" I wonder.

"what about a Jeep Cherokee?" Hotch chimes in, almost startling me with the deep register of his voice. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I think on it.

"Jeeps are more masculine." Reid comes close to me in order to examine the picture I'm holding. he smells like clean laundry and some nice soap scent that I can't place. maybe it's the gel he uses to slick back his hair. no cologne or aftershave. I don't think he'd need to shave, what with his smooth baby face.

Spencer has some special quirks that make him a little more interesting. he usually avoids physical contact with other people-- doesn't shake hands-- but at other times, he doesn't seem to have self-awareness. like right now, where the shoulder of his red sweater is just barely touching mine. I hand him the picture and step away.

"unsubs love to assert their masculinity."

Hotch nods along, encouraging me to share more of what I'm thinking. after swallowing down a lingering nervousness, I tap the push pin marking where the last body was dumped. "he dropped her out-of-state, so he probably has a previous knowledge of law enforcement. maybe he's got a criminal record?"

"good, Williams." Hotch praises me. my fist clenches triumphantly at my side as he turns to the agent who has been watching us intently. "when do we meet with your task force?"

"four." the man replies. I balk at this, my posture shifting. the shortest time constraint I've ever had here has been a full day. it's already one in the afternoon.

"you want an accurate profile by four today?" I glance between Morgan and Spencer, but the latter is rocking back and forth on his heels with his eyes glued to the white board. Morgan doesn't seem put off by it.

"we can do that." Hotch scowls, snapping shut the case file with a finality that tells me we're about to split up. "Dave and Morgan, head to the last dump site. Williams, Reid, I want you to talk to Heather's brother and try to find out what you can about her life. Prentiss and I will stay here in case of new developments."

I nod curtly, grab my jacket, and glance over at Spencer. he runs his hand over his hair, although I can't imagine what there is to smooth down, then walks over to me.

"you ready to go?" I ask, brandishing the file. he and I have only done two interviews together; I spent most of my beginning weeks working with Emily to get a feel for the job. both times with the boy genius have been fine, if not a little awkward.

he nods in answer to my question. "would you mind driving?"

"no license?" I tease to lighten the mood, but he doesn't get the joke. instead, he frowns at me with something of a distracted expression, adjusts his bag.

"no, I don't like driving in the rain."

"oh," I recover quickly and put a friendly smile on my face. "no problem."

"thanks." he walks ahead of me and I cringe at my own behavior. he acts so differently from earlier on the jet that I start to wonder if I did something wrong. maybe he's just in his head or something; I know I would be if I had an IQ that enormous.

when we get to the house of Heather Woodland's brother, a gorgeous golden lab greets us in the entryway. she puts her paws up on my legs and I reach down to scratch behind her ears with a smile on my face.

"Sandy, calm down." her owner grabs her collar gently to calm her. "sorry."

"no, it's fine, I love dogs." I wave it off and step inside. Spencer is eyeing Sandy warily, but she seems just as eager to say hi to him as she was to me. when she lets out a singular, enthusiastic bark, he startles.

"Mr. Woodland," I suppress my laugh by changing the subject. "I'm Special Agent Williams and this is Special Agent Dr. Reid."

we shake hands, my colleague giving his usual wave and polite smile. the interviewee takes in Spencer's appearance. I know what's coming.

"you look too young for medical school." Woodland says to Reid. this has happened a couple times since I joined the team, but Spencer never seems to mind. if anything, he lights up at the opportunity to share the reason for his official title.

"they're PhD's. three of them." he gives a little smile as we walk into the house, me shaking a few stray raindrops from my hair.

"so... are you a genius or something?" Heather's brother leads us past the hallway into the living room, which is unkempt and littered with pictures, catalogs, and toys. he must have kids in school right now. that would also explain the breed of dog.

"I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified."

"he's being modest," I glance over at Spencer. "Dr. Reid can read 20,000 words a minute-- he's definitely a genius."

Woodland stares at Spencer for a second as he tries to fathom the speed at which someone's mind would have to turn in order to process all that information. I still can't imagine it. Spencer's eyes avoid Woodland's shyly. instead, he watches me as I pet Sandy.

soon after, we ask him about Heather's personality and tendencies. her brother is more than willing to give us all the information we need. I'm surprised, however, by my partner's ease at wandering around Woodland's house, flipping through the magazines on top of the TV and reading the spines of books on shelves. he's quite conspicuous about it.

about halfway through my mental list of questions, Sandy keeps jumping up and wagging her til.

"I'm gonna take her to the backyard quick," Woodland tells us. "one second."

he ducks out of the room and I wait until I know he's out of earshot before sidling up beside Reid.

"there's an immediate relationship established between a buyer and a seller," he tells me, holding up a Datsun Z catalog. we know that she was in the market for one. "if I want to coax a young woman into my car..."

"offer her a test drive." I finish his sentence. of course, within ten minutes of sifting through this woman's house, Spencer has figured out the ruse used to lure her. Woodland returns a moment later with a smile, but we tell him that we've gotten the information we need before leaving.

in the car, Spencer theorizes about the unsub's mental condition as I try to navigate traffic in the storm. thunder rumbles overhead, occasionally sending a vibration through the car. my knuckles tighten around the wheel a bit. I also hate driving in the rain. his rambles fills the silence, however, and somewhat soothe my nerves.

"he doesn't have the MO of a paranoid psychotic. dumping the bodies out in the open, with a weapon nearby... that doesn't align."

"he covers their eyes with duct tape multiple times over, though. he knows he's going to kill them, but he doesn't want them to see his face?" my fingertips drum over the wheel nervously.

"what's wrong?" Spencer asks suddenly, glancing at my hands and then at my face. I still my movements at the change in subject.

"huh? nothing. I just don't like driving in the rain, either."

"oh. I'm sorry." he straightens a bit in his seat. the apology surprises me a little, but he seems genuinely sympathetic. I guess I really don't know him that well.

"it's cool."

we fall into an awkward silence and I bite my lip. we should get back to talking about the case. heaven knows Spencer has more facts to spew, more theories to share about this unsub. anything is better than the gap in conversation. I open my mouth to say more about what we learned at the house, except Spencer speaks first.

"so... how are you liking working here?" he asks awkwardly. it takes a second for the question to register with me. he sounds uncomfortable whenever we're alone and that makes me uncomfortable in turn. where everyone else was quick to include me in their jokes and discussions, Reid always sounds like talking to me exhausts him. it's obvious that he's socially awkward. there's no judgement from me; I'm just surprised that he's pushing to talk about non work-related subjects.

"I like it," not really an accurate summation. I don't think a heart-to-heart is exactly the right move when talking to him. "a little stressful, though."

"you worked in sex crimes before, right?" he looks out the window. there isn't much to see except for the rain-blurred skyline. I nod.

"yep."

"that sounds... hard." he shifts in his seat as he tries to come up with more points of conversation. it's kind of endearing, honestly. I throw him a bone.

"so is profiling."

"why'd you switch?" his eyes flit over to mine as he quickly adds, "if you don't mind me asking."

I take a second to come up with an answer. of course, there's the classic response: I've always wanted to help people— which isn't wrong— it's also not the whole answer. all through college and the Academy, I had my head focused on one thing. I could interview killers and get inside their heads, but there's something entirely different that you don't get from pure research. and one person inspired that in me before I had finished high school.

"don't tell him I said this, but I really wanted to work with Rossi." I say in a hushed tone. there's a slight smile on my lips because I haven't told anyone on the team in fear of being teased. I don't think Spencer is likely to gossip with Rossi about me, though.

"really?" now he sounds surprised.

"I've read all his books and I've been to a couple lectures. he doesn't remember me, evidently." the thought is more funny than embarrassing. he spoke at my college a few years back and I recall being on the edge of my seat, trying to come up with the courage to ask the questions that filled my head. I was too shy.

"does he know you're a fan?" Spencer loosens up a bit.

"nope," we pull off the freeway as we near the field office. I stop at a red light and look over. "I didn't want to embarrass myself with the whole 'your work changed my life' spiel."

at this, Spencer lets out a short, nervous giggle. it's a nice sound, that laugh. it makes me smile when he seems to relax in his seat.

"that's exactly what I did." he says. I frown.

"you told him his books changed your life?" I blush as I realize I just inadvertently made fun of him.

"I, um... well, I got excited to talk about his research." he averts his gaze again and his cheeks turn a slight pink. there's a dimple in his cheek, I notice, that keeps tugging upward. this is my first time having a non-forced moment with Spencer alone; a wave of satisfaction washes over me as I realize the potential for another friend here.

"trust me, I get it." I laugh. we pull into the parking ramp for the field office and I find a spot by the door. Spencer hoists that bag into his lap and runs his hand through his hair. when I pull the key out of the ignition, he waits for me to get out of the car before we start walking toward the door.

it's small, but I appreciate that he doesn't run off without me. we don't talk as we walk, our footsteps echoing along the cement walls.

oh my god first chapter holy fuck! it's short, but I don't wanna overwhelm. I'm so excited for this book!

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #dr. reid #criminal minds #mgg #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #friends to lovers #BAU #slow burn

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queenof-literature · 4 years

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Hyrule

Hi all! Time for the Hero of Wild series update! I hope you enjoy!

I also remembered I haven’t been updating my Masterlist. Whoopsie. Sorry about that. it’s updated now.

Wild was getting restless, Hyrule could tell. Wild had been with them for about a week now, and Hyrule could see it was starting to get to him. He knew the look, because he was the exact same way. Based on what little Wild told them about himself, Hyrule knew they were similar. Both travelers and wanderers, both far more comfortable away from cities, both loving to explore the world around them.

Not to say the other Links didn’t love exploring, Four and Wind would accompany him during dinner sometimes. Wild and Hyrule however always seemed to disappear by the time Twilight and and Warriors would turn around. It started with Hyrule when he first joined the Links, it was difficult to simply stay on the trail. Sometimes he would wander off without really realizing it. In one moment he would be looking at the local plant life that was absent in his own Hyrule. In the next moment he would be getting dragged by the scruff of his tunic by Legend. And Wild was the same way.

Obviously they couldn’t drag him back by the scruff of his neck, Wild didn’t let anyone touch him in any way. But Hyrule and Wild always ended up wandering off, and Hyrule truly wanted to get closer to his fellow explorer, but he didn’t know how.

Exploring seemed to be a common interest, but how did he ask the other to explore with him? Did he just… ask? He didn’t really know how to ‘properly’ interact with people. His Hyrule wasn’t exactly where someone would want to go for a vacation. He loved parts of it but it was lonely. Legend had found him deep in these thoughts a couple of weeks in, before Wild had joined.

“Am I a bad person?” Hyrule had asked quietly when he heard his fellow Link approach. He always knew who it was based on their footsteps.

“Why would you say that?” Legend had responded.

“What if I don’t miss my Hyrule as much as I should?”

“You’re not a bad person for not liking certain aspects of your Hyrule kid.”

“But… what if I don’t want to go back when the time comes? Not that I hate my Hyrule, but you guys are nice. I’m just… tired.”

“If Hylia thinks she’s tearing us apart after sending us on this hellish cucco chase she has another thing coming.” Legend had finalized. And Hyrule knew he meant it.

Hyrule glanced up at the sound of footsteps, stifling the urge to laugh as Twilight led a disgruntled Wild back to the traveling party. His humor disappeared when he saw the look on Wild’s face. It was restlessness, the desperate need to get away. Not in a way of anger, but exhaustion. The absolute bone tired feeling of being around too many people for far too long. Hyrule felt that many times, and would usually wander off when it got too bad, pleading with Legend to not bring up his absence.

It wasn’t Twilight’s fault, he didn’t know. Besides, this was a Hyrule no one knew, it wasn’t the best idea for Wild and Hyrule to be wandering around while the others were moving. Perhaps once they made camp Hyrule could work up the courage to actually talk to the boy.

Wild missed his Hyrule, and he missed traveling alone. Wild didn’t exactly have a home like the others apparently did, but he still missed his Hyrule. Sure he had a house in Hateno that he loved, and he was extremely grateful for when he needed a free place to sleep, but it wasn’t always home. The wilds were his home. The woods with secret birds nests, the oceans with rocky coats to jump from rock to rock, the different domains with different obstacles and different beauties. That was his home. He loved Hateno, but he felt out of place among the residents. He never felt out of place in nature. But he certainly felt out of place here.

The other Links were nice and welcoming, but Wild never missed the long glances towards his scars, or the annoyed huffs when he came back from exploring off the path. But another boy, Hyrule, he explored too. Legend would always drag him back with a fond smirk and the rest of the group let him be. Was it because Wild was new that they seemed to walk on eggshells around him? Maybe. That didn’t change the fact he missed traveling alone. The thought made him feel slightly guilty, everyone had been doing their best to include him into their group. But still Wild just felt like a piece that didn’t fit.

He also felt guilty Zelda didn’t know. They rarely traveled together, Zelda was happy to work in labs for now while she grew accustomed to their new Hyrule a century later. But he missed exploring with her too. He liked seeing her happy, and his few memories proved she liked walking along beaten paths and open fields as well. He wanted more time to do that, but based on what Time had said, he would be on this quest for the foreseeable future.

Oh well. He would deal with it. He had been in worse situations before. At least this time he remembered who he was when in a strange world. Still, something in him ached to be away from all of this, to simply shield surf down a mountain, or tame a wild stag, or create a giant fire and fly where no one could reach him. He doubted the others would appreciate that though.

Hyrule seemed to have a similar mindset. He wished he could talk to the boy, but he didn’t seem interested. Wild was already new, he didn’t want to upset or annoy anyone with his lack of speech. He was painfully aware how exhausting it was to communicate with him, especially when the people trying to talk to him had to put up with his language that was completely different from theirs thanks to the different timelines. And yet they made name signs for him. They asked his opinions on things. They asked him how to sign things to better understand him. Four gave him a journal to help him share his thoughts. They were all so kind and Wild was so, so confused.

Hyrule needed to work up the courage to talk to Wild. Soon. After almost a week of traveling with a group, Wild seemed to be really stressed. He was pacing around near Epona, trying to find something to unpack around camp to distract himself. He appeared to be moving his lips, having a silent conversation with himself, his hands ringing and reaching up to scratch lightly at his neck. Hyrule had noticed Wild had a multitude of nervous habits, some of them similar to his own. Epona also seemed to be worried, if her quiet huffing and nosing at Wild’s hair was anything to go by. Hyrule worried that if he didn’t approach Wild first, Wild might run off on his own before the day was over. There wouldn’t be a better time anyway. The older boys were washing tunics and the younger ones were swimming in a nearby creek. Hyrule gulped down his nerves and got up.

He slowly approached Wild, popping his fingers absentmindedly. Wild glanced up at him, eyes filled with suspicion and curiosity.

“Hey Wild. Do you want to go exploring? You seem like you like to and I like to and it's been a while since I’ve gotten away and being around people for too long kinda makes me nervous and it seems like it does you too. Erm, I mean I obviously don’t know that for sure but we could leave a note and get away for awhile and go explore?” Hyrule rushed out and mentally face palmed at his own rambling. Good job Hyrule. Glancing up at Wild, the boy seemed slightly shocked, but thankfully didn’t look offended. Wild took out his journal and quickly scratched out a response.

‘Sure. You’re right. I’m used to traveling alone.’ Scrawled out in neat, small letters.

“Alright!” Hyrule smiled happily, which Wild hesitantly returned. “Would you mind if we used your journal to write a note? I don’t have anything to write on.” Hyrule asked. Wild looked sad for a moment at tearing out a page from his gift, but figured the sooner they left the better while the others were distracted. He carefully tore a page from the back and wrote out a quick note as Hyrule watched, adding in when he saw fit.

‘Went exploring, we’ll be fine. Need a break. We won’t go far.

~Wild and Hyrule’

After adding a large smiley face he knew would piss off Legend, Hyrule led Wild away from the camp, being sure to leave the note in an obvious place. They decided to go the opposite way of the river to avoid any stray Links. The trees around them were a bit taller than Hyrule remembers Wild’s trees being, the sun peeking through the canopy above. A few flowers bloomed sparingly in the grass, Wild stopping to take pictures with his slate. Already Wild looked more relaxed, and Hyrule felt himself decompressing as well.

Before they could stray far from camp however, they ran into the smallest Link.

“What are you two doing?” Four asked, eyebrow raised, green eyes shining in the peeking sunlight.

“We could ask you the same question.” Hyrule spoke for both of them, copying Four’s expression.

“Very smooth Hyrule. Amazing distraction.” Four fired back, seeming far more amused than angry.

“Please just pretend you didn’t see us. We both need a break we’ll be careful and we left a note.” Hyrule pleaded. Four had to admit, the pleading expression on both Hyrule and Wild’s faces were hard to deny. Not that he was planning to anyways, but he was definitely going to give them shit for it.

“Fine.” Four sighed out dramatically. “But do me a favor and try to stick in the area. Maybe Northwest as much as you can. Just so we know where to look when you to inevitably find trouble.” Four teased.

“We’ll do our best!” Hyrule promised happily, rushing forward.

‘Thank you!’ Wild signed quickly, rushing forward to catch up to Hyule. Four chuckled lightly. He could already tell those two would be the definition of chaos.

“Sooo. What do you do for fun in your Hyrule?” Hyrule asked, slightly desperate for conversation. Normally he would be content to sit in comfortable silence, but he wanted to get to know this new Link with no one else around, and who knew when he would next get the chance? Hopefully Wild didn’t hate him too much for trying to break the silence. Wild contemplated for a moment.

‘Cliff jump.’ Hyrule snorted.

“A little hard to do that here.” Hyrule laughed.

‘Shield surf.’ Wild signed, fingerspelling it slowly when Hyrule made a confused hum.

“Shield surf? What’s that?” Hyrule knew by Wild’s betrayed expression that he would learn soon.

“Where’s Wild?” Twilight asked soon after the boys returned.

“And Hyrule?” Wind questioned.

“Hyrule probably ran off again. Did Wild as well?” Sky asked the group. Just then, Warriors noticed a page of Wild’s journal resting on top of a tree stump. Warriors quickly approached the page, slightly concerned it would end up being a ransom note. Picking up the note and reading the short writing, Warriors had to stifle a laugh.

“What is it?” Time asked.

“Went exploring, we’ll be fine. Need a break. We won’t go far.” Warriors read out loud,

turning the page around to show the large smiley face and the two bokoblins who signed it.

“That little shit.” Legend growled, looking at the taunting smiley face drawn on the note.

“Those little shits.” Twilight corrected. He had yet to talk to Time about his friendship with Wild. Was it a friendship? Twilight still needed to ask if this is how a mentor felt. He felt towards Wild like he did towards the kids in Ordon, but this was a little different in ways Twilight couldn’t explain, but wasn’t really mad at.

“You’re right, Twilight. I’ll kill ‘em both.”

“So, I just stand on this and ‘surf’ down the hill?” Hyrule questioned, slightly nervous about his certain tumble down the steep hill they managed to find. Wild nodded, eyes brighter than Hyrule had seen them in days.

‘Do you want me to go first?’ Wild signed.

“Yes please. I guess I just don’t understand how to do it.” Hyrule rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. Wild just smiled gently, and summoned a shield out of his slate, jumping on the back of it. Hyrule watched in fascination as Wild gracefully sped down the hill they had chosen, weaving around small obstacles. It only made Hyrule more nervous. Not for the surfing itself, no, that looked fun! He just didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of their newest member. Wild was up the hill in no time. The hill was steep, but not long and steep enough to make it hard to get back up. According to Wild, it was almost perfect. Hyrule wanted to know what Wild’s definition of ‘perfect’ was.

‘Ready’ Wild signed with a large smile and carefree eyes. If Hyrule wasn’t going to surf before, he would have to now that he looked at Wild’s bright face.

“Yeah, but don’t make fun of me when I eat grass and dirt for lunch.” Wild laughed silently, shoulders shaking. If Hyrule listened close enough, he could hear soft puffs of air escaping from the teen.

‘You should have seen me when I first tried it, Hyrule’ Wild signed. Recently he had been trying to incorporate the other’s name signs more into his sentences, trying to get used to the signs they had given each other. Hyrule was quite fond of his sign, he loved the combination of wanderer and magic.

“Yeah I’m sure that was interesting for everyone else to watch.” Hyrule snorted, laughing at Wild’s playful glare. This was nice.

‘I’m ready, Wild.’ Hyrule signed to the best of his ability, trying to brush off Wild’s awe stricken face at the fact Hyrule had signed a simple statement in his language. Hyrule couldn’t sign much, but the look on Wild’s face was worth potentially embarrassing himself.

‘Try to keep up.’ Wild signed, summoning another shield out of his slate for Hyrule to use. It was absolutely gorgeous. Gray metal with raised gold, creating the symbol of Hyrule with decorative accents surrounding it.

“Erm, isn’t this a little too nice to use for shield surfing?” Hyrule questioned, not wanting to ruin a perfectly beautiful shield. By the look on Wild’s face, Hyrule knew that was a silly question. For all he knew, Wild could have ten more in that slate of his.

“Okay so I just get on the back and try to balance as I ride down?” Hyrule clarified, not admitting to himself he was stalling. Wild nodded.

‘Maybe you could sit. Never tried it.’ Wild signed, fingerspelling words Hyrule couldn’t understand or couldn’t remember.

“Nah I’ll stand. Together?” Hyrule confirmed, placing the shield on the ground before him, knowing the other boy was about to leave him in his dust. Wild was talented enough to not need to put the shield down before him, Hyrule had seen him flip onto it like it was second nature. Hyrule would need a bit more of a base. Wild nodded brightly, waiting for Hyrule to start in case the other needed help. The boy got on top of the shield, wobbling a bit at first before balancing out. Wild felt slightly guilty he couldn’t force himself to balance the other boy out, that would require contact and he couldn’t make himself do that, no matter how nice Hyrule seemed.

When he found enough balance, Hyrule kicked off gently with one foot, not expecting how fast he would be going right as he did it. Hyrule let out a small yelp as he slid down the hill, arms flailing out in a desperate attempt to keep balance. Hyrule glanced over and saw Wild staying beside him, even though this was definitely much slower than he was used to. Pushing down the panic and desperation to stay balanced on the grassy hill, Hyrule let out a laugh. It really was fun! Hyrule could see why Wild liked it so much. Except he should have been paying more attention.

In the blink of an eye, Hyrule’s shield launched out from under him, flinging itself into Wild’s legs. All Hyrule heard was a raspy sound coming from the other boy sounding like a yelp before both of them tumbled down the hill, rolling uncontrollably all the way to the bottom. Hyrule could feel scraps and bruises forming on the way down. Certainly not enough to maim or kill him, but enough that it stung and Legend would make him drink some potion later. Hyrule finally stopped rolling, taking mental count of how many injuries he had. No broken bones, no concussions, nothing serious. He sighed in relief, before he remembered his fellow escapee.

“Wild I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hit your legs hard?” Hyrule asked frantically, rushing over to where Wild landed. The other boy was flat on his back, and had probably gotten the air knocked out of him. Oh Hylia, nice job Hyrule! Now Wild would hate you forever! Hyrule got his healing magic ready as he approached Wild, ready to jump into action. Only stopping when he saw Wild… laughing?

Hyrule looked on in shock as Wild was laughing. Not completely silent this time either! It took him being close, but Hyrule could hear some soft and raspy giggles coming from Wild’s throat. That one threw Hyrule for a loop. The others had suspected that Wild could perhaps physically talk, but the scars on his neck left that question unanswered. No one knew why he couldn’t talk. If it was physical, mental, or emotional. Not that it really mattered, Wild was Wild. But still, Hyrule was happy he actually heard the boy laughing, if extremely softly.

“Wild? Are you okay? I’m sorry I promise I didn’t mean to.” Hyrule knelt down next to Wild, but kept a few feet of distance. The last thing he wanted to do right now is freak him out. That’s also why he refused to bring up Wild’s laughter, desperately hoping he wouldn’t grow embarrassed and shut down again.

‘Nice landing.’ Wild signed up, eyes bright and carefree.

“Pfft. You too.” Hyrule laughed, almost offering Wild a hand to help him up. It seemed polite to offer, but he decided to stay still until Wild got up himself.

‘Again?’ Wild asked, face the definition of excitement and mischief.

“Obviously.”

The entire afternoon was spent with two boys surfing down a hill, bumping shields and laughing like little kids all the way down. Hyrule was slightly worried that bumping shields, and occasionally shoulders, would bother Wild. But it didn’t seem to affect him too much, it must have been different in a more adrenaline induced setting.

The two of them surfed until the sun began to set. Challenging each other to odd ways of riding down once Hyrule was better. At one point, this led to Wild attempting to make it the whole way down on his shield in a handstand. He didn’t make it very far.

Another challenge led to them racing down the hill once Hyrule was more confident in his skill. Hyrule still ended up tumbling down the last quarter of the hill. Wild claimed foul but Hyrule claimed they never said how they needed to make it down.

By the time the sun began its descent, Wild and Hyrule were absolute messes. Twigs, grass, and leaves were tangled in their hair. Grass stains and dirt covered their clothes, along with blood from the countless cuts and scrapes they had collected along the way. And large smiles adorned their scraped and slightly bleeding faces.

“A couple more times and then we’ll go back?” Hyrule asked, looking at the distant sun. “I think the group is so spoiled by your cooking we’d have a hard time without it.” Hyrule teased, chuckling at Wild’s embarrassed face.

‘A couple more times. Try the spin’ Wild confirmed. Hyrule was getting better at jumping onto the shield, not being able to flip like Wild, but progress was progress. Wild could even jump and spin while he was surfing! He told Hyrule how to do it, and showed him a few times. Wild told him it was easier if he used the momentum from a small bump in the hill to get enough speed to rotate.

“Okay I’ll try!” Hyrule beamed. Wild and Hyrule could go at the same time now, Wild not needing to give Hyrule a head start as the evening progressed. “One. Two. Three!” Hyrule called out, jumping on the back of his shield. He balanced out and leaned forward as Wild taught him, keeping an eye on the quickly approaching small hill he planned to launch off of. Hyrule bent his legs a little more, then twisted his hips quickly as soon as he hit the hill. He bent his elbows to the side, making sure to keep his back as straight as he could. He managed to make a full rotation! Before landing and having the shield slip out from under him. Hyrule rolled the rest of the way, but his successful spin made it hard for him to care. When he got to the bottom, his eyes were closed, doing another mental check to see if he had any broken bones. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a very unamused pair of bright blue eyes belonging to a certain wolf.

“Uh oh.” Hyrule glanced over at Wild, who also looked like a deer in the torchlight. Wild signed something that Hyrule assumed the wolf couldn’t understand. He was intelligent, but Hyrule doubted the animal could understand sign .

“He says we left a note.” Hyrule translated.

They must have been quite the sight. Two bruised and cut Hylians covered in grass pouting as they followed a hulking wolf. They would have escaped the wolf’s fury, but he absolutely would not let them out of his sight. If one of the two got an inch too far, the wolf grumbled in his throat and glared. A wolf glared at them. Wild at least, knew the wolf was not just an animal. But that only meant he would be the one to get lectured by an angry Twilight later tonight. Wild and Hyrule were pouting, but they still snickered whenever they thought about today. It had been fun. Really fun. Wild didn’t feel overwhelmed anymore, he felt more content.

“Here we go.” Hyrule muttered, seeing a small fire in the distance. Wild glared down at Wolfie when he noticed the smug look in his eye. The wolf couldn’t wait to see them get scolded. Wild would get revenge later.

“Where have you two idiots been?” Legend yelled as they got closer.

“What in Hylia’s name happened?” Sky asked, rushing over to check their cuts with Warriors, keeping their distance with Wild.

“Wild taught me how to surf on a shield!” Hyrule told them the story happily, brushing off Sky’s and Warriors’ fussing.

“Awesome! Wild teach me next!” Wind ran up to stand next to Hyrule. The two could see Four hanging back, being suspiciously quiet. Hopefully if they didn’t throw him to the wolves for knowing, he would cover for them later on as well.

‘Where’s Twilight?’ Wild signed innocently, resisting the urge to smirk down at the wolf beside him.

“He’s scouting the area for monsters.” Time lied easily. “Wolfie, go get him please?” Wolfie glared one last time at a smug Wild, before running off to ‘find Twilight’.

“Now.” Time began, and Hyrule and Wild glanced at each other, silently communicating that they were indeed fucked. “What were you two thinking running off like that?” Time asked. He didn’t really sound mad, he sounded more curious. He knew those two wouldn’t purposefully cause issues, especially with how shy they tended to be. Hyrule and Wild glanced at each other before Hyrule spoke up.

“We just needed a break. We left a note so that you guys knew we were okay, but we both just needed time to unwind in the woods.” Hyrule explained sheepishly. Wild nodded along, keeping his head down. He really hoped Hyrule didn’t get in trouble. Even after all the work they put into learning his sign, Wild thought the group would ditch him in a random Hyrule any minute. He didn’t want to see his new friend get in trouble because of something they both did. If he needed to Wild would take the blame. Better just he get in trouble than both of them.

Time sighed, looking at their guilty expressions. He should have expected this, both of these boys spent most of their lives completely alone. Time thought back to his adventures. He loved exploring Hyrule on the back of Epona. Could he really fault these boys for exploring away from a group? Hyrule was getting better with being in a group, but he still struggled. And Wild has only been in their group for a week, he certainly wasn’t used to traveling with others if his fear of touches were anything to go by. Most of the boys said he ‘didn’t like’ being touched to soften the words and not offend the new Link but they all knew the truth. Something had given Wild a deep rooted fear of even being around Hylians. How could they expect him and Hyrule to be happy when constantly surrounded by others. Time was just glad they had found solace with each other.

“I understand.” The two teens perked up at that, surprised. They barely noticed Twilight coming from beyond the surrounding trees. “I know exploring away from the path is fun, but Hyrules we don’t know are dangerous. I know I’m not gonna be able to stop you from doing it, but be careful. And come back with less scrapes and bruises next time.” Time teased, not missing the way they both relaxed, Wild especially. Hopefully the boy’s wariness would ease as the journey continued.

“That’s it? They ran away!” Twilight complained, but the others could tell it was mostly in good fun. Wild however could tell the man was trying to get back at him once again.

“You’re right. Wild make dinner. Hyrule, fill the water jugs. There. Karma complete.” Time smirked at Twilight exasperated look towards Wild, knowing full well he would need to chase after him in the next few days. Good, hopefully Twilight will learn how Time feels.

That night was spent the way many of their peaceful nights did, casual chatter and plans for tomorrow. Wild participated a little more this time, which the group was all grateful for. Legend grumbled and made them booth drink a little potion, no matter how much Wild refused. The rest of the night was spent with the group milling around or all grouped around the campfire. Four however, were beckoned over by Hyrule to have a private conversation.

“What’s wrong?” Four asked, looking at Hyrule’s troubled face.

“Thanks for covering for us. We needed that.” Hyrule thanked before he moved on. “I’m worried about Wild.” Hyrule bit his lip now that his thoughts were out in the open.

“Why?” Four’s eyebrows furrowed. “He looks better than he has in a while and you two seemed to have fun.”

“We did have fun, but Four he laughed. Like with his voice.” Hyrule glanced over to make sure the boy in question was still making dinner. “It was quiet but I heard it. I think he can talk, Four. I mean I think he could maybe physically talk if he practiced. But I think he’s embarrassed? Or scared? He doesn’t have to talk if he doesn’t want to and I don’t want him to feel forced, but what if he wants to talk and he’s scared?” Hyrule finished. Out of the many things Four had been expecting, it wasn’t that.

“I think… that that’s a very real possibility.” Four started, there was no reason to lie. “But you’re right, he might just not want to, or it could be mental. Or a combination. The truth is we don’t know. I’d say for now let’s worry about things we can control and feel out the situation with Wild.” Four reached up and patted Hyrule’s shoulder. Like all the Links, Hyrule put too much responsibility on himself.

“Okay Four. Thank you… that helps.” Hyrule smiled, looking much better.

“No problem buddy.”

That night Wild slept a tad bit closer to the group than he had been. It wasn’t much, but it was progress they were all silently grateful to Hyrule for. Time was on second watch, but Twilight had stayed up to talk to him.

‘Pup, did Wild talk to you that night he woke up with Wolfie?’ Time had overheard a small portion of Four and Hyrule’s conversation. He had been coming back from the stream and didn’t stay long, not wanting to eavesdrop, but he heard enough to connect the dots of what Twilight had been avoiding talking about the past few days.

‘He tried.’ Twilight signed back in their shared sign. It hadn't changed too much from Time’s Hyrule to Twilight’s Hyrule, and they didn’t want Wild to overhear their conversation.

‘He tried?’ Time questioned silently.

‘It was rough, Time.’ Twilight signed, glancing back at the boy curled up in his thin bedroll.

“We’ll figure it out.” Time whispered, placing a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. Wild was one of them now.

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chrismalcolmhnd1d · 5 years

Text

Exhibition Reviews

Linda McCartney Retrospective Exhibition

Kelvingrove Art Gallery & Museum

Visit - 3rd September 2019

Project: Exhibition Review. #Exhibition

I attended the Linda McCartney Retrospective exhibition in Kelvingrove earlier this month. The exhibition, which is curated by Paul, Mary and Stella McCartney, features iconic names and moments in music from the 1960s along with more intimate later work by Linda.

The retrospective also includes one of Linda McCartney’s diaries from the 1960s displayed in public for the first time along with experimental cyanotype (or sun print) photographs where she used natural sunlight to develop the pictures.

Cameras and accessories used by Linda and are displayed in the exhibition along with Polaroids and contact sheets showing her creativity and use of different techniques.

I was pleasantly surprised at the variety and quality of her work as I didn’t realise she was the creator of so many icon images of fledgling music stars such as Jim Morrison, Jimmy Hendrix, Janice Joplin and of course, The Beatles in the late 1960’s and early ‘70’s.

Many of her photographs broke all the “rules” I had been taught previously about composition, framing, focus and yet, the shots worked, sometimes in quite an abstract way and others in a playful way. “Themes including The Sixties, Family Life, Self Portraits, Observations – Animals and Nature, and Scotland, featuring pictures taken at the family home in Argyll and of people from local communities in Campbeltown, shape this significant retrospective. Linda McCartney became a professional photographer in the mid-1960s, known for her portraits of Jimi Hendrix, The Rolling Stones and The Beatles, among many others. In 1968 she was the first female photographer whose work was featured as the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, with a portrait of Eric Clapton. In 1974, when Linda and Paul appeared on Rolling Stone’s cover, she became the first person to have been photographed and taken a photo for the cover of the magazine: a neat reflection of Linda’s life both in Front of and behind the lens. Following her marriage to Paul McCartney in 1969, Linda’s photographs became more intimate and emotional, exploring the natural world, family life and social commentary. Linda McCartney continued to work prolifically as a photographer until her death from breast cancer in 1998. Her work has been exhibited by institutions including the International Center of Photography in New York, the Victoria & Albert Museum and the National Portrait Gallery in London.”

Source: http://www.whatsonglasgow.co.uk/event/069450-linda-mccartney-retrospective/

Lucky Spot in Daisy Field (Sussex, 1985)

“Linda's ability to capture natural light is evident in Lucky Spot in Daisy Field (Sussex, 1985). Here the horse is presented in a mystical manner; there are no clear tracks of its journey to them middle of the daisies; it is standing of its own apparent accord, as if she stumbled upon this horse who appears to be deep in thought.”

Source: https://www.glasgowlife.org.uk/museums/blog/linda-mccartney-restrospective

Theory

The lighting:

The lighting is natural daylight with bright sunlight coming from above suggested by the shadows on the horse and light on the daisies, probably around the middle of the day when the sun is at it’s highest position.

The capture:

I think the image was captured on 35mm film as the colours are “warm” and slightly saturated.

Aesthetic

The content & approach:

The composition of the shot is interesting as at first, I thought there was too much foreground of the meadow showing the daisies and would probably have cropped in tighter on the horse as the main subject. However, on reflection, the amount of space given to the daisies makes the viewer wonder how the horse got there as there isn’t an immediately noticeable track it has made flattening the daisies on it’s journey, which adds to the “mystique” of the image, almost giving the horse magical powers. The image shows an extended depth of field.

The equipment: For her early black and white portraits as unofficial in-house photographer in the late ‘60′s and ‘70′s, Linda used a Leica M3. She also used Pentax however, her camera of choice for most of her intimate family shots was her Nikon.

James- Used on the cover of 'Sun Prints' 1988

Cyanotype or 'sun print' is a photographic printing technique which produces a cyan-blue coloured print. It’s one of the most simple and low-cost printing techniques, originally used by engineers for their “blueprints”, but nowadays more common among artists and photographers. The prints are stunning with their clear blue shade and strong contrast of colours.

Theory

The lighting:

The lighting in this shot is very high contrast, with the highlights being blown out and the shadows very dark. It is shot in natural sunlight with the subject partially in shade, possibly in the back of a car or vehicle.

The capture:

The image is shot in portrait format and follows the rule of thirds, with the boy’s eye drawing you into the image in the upper third.

The print:

The image is printed using the Cyanotype or Sun Print process.

The border created around the image during processing, gives the finished print a rough and unprecise look which compliments the graininess of the image and adds to the casual and “real” feel of the finished product.

“Cyanotype is a photographic printing process that produces a cyan-blue print. Engineers used the process well into the 20th century as a simple and low-cost process to produce copies of drawings, referred to as blueprints. The process uses two chemicals: ferric ammonium citrate and potassium ferricyanide.”

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyanotype

Content and Enterprise

I think Linda was perhaps influenced by American documentary photographer and photojournalist Dorothea Lange, as many of her black and white portraits have a similar feel and composition to Dorothea’s work.

Linda’s late 60’s and early 70’s candid and natural but also powerful, high contrast black and white portraits have subsequently influenced many contemporary music photographers.

Linda’s early work was commissioned as she was the in-house photographer at Bill Graham's Fillmore East concert hall, however, her later work was personal and created for herself as her art.

Exhibition Review 2 – Edinburgh 25th September 2019 #exhibition

On Wednesday 25th September, we were taken through to Edinburgh to see a photographic exhibition in the National Portrait Gallery and a small exhibition of Cindy Sherman’s early work in a gallery called Stills.

ARTIST ROOMS Self Evidence | Photographs by Woodman, Arbus and Mapplethorpe

This exhibition covered the work of 3 of the 20th century’s most influential American photographers, Francesca Woodman, Diane Arbus and Robert Mapplethorpe.

Francesca Stern Woodman

“Francesca Stern Woodman (April 3, 1958 – January 19, 1981) was an American photographer best known for her black and white pictures featuring either herself or female models.

Many of her photographs show women, naked or clothed, blurred (due to movement and long exposure times), merging with their surroundings, or whose faces are obscured.

Her work continues to be the subject of much positive critical attention, years after she died by suicide at the age of 22, in 1981”

Source: Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francesca_Woodman

Self-portrait, c. 1977

I found Woodman’s work both intriguing and disturbing and while she has a great ability to frame her images and set dramatic scenes using interesting light, texture and shadow, her long exposures on her self portraits really have a sense of an uneasy mind in turmoil, evidenced by her suicide at the age of 22.

Most of Woodman’s shots were taken with a medium format camera, producing 2 ¼ x 2 ¼ inch square negatives. Most of her prints are 10” x 8” which “works to produce an intimate experience between the viewer and photographer”.

She was only recognised as a talented photographer after her death in 1981.

My favourite images from the exhibition.

Eel Series, Venice, Italy, 1978

Gelatine silver print

This image has great composition and shows the photographer’s pose mirroring the coil of the eels on the bowl, creating a frame, within a frame, within a frame. The use of black and white adds drama and a mysterious element to the image, while the eel puts me in mind of Cleopatra’s asp. The harsh lighting from overhead (probably natural sunlight) creates very dramatic shadows in many parts of the frame.

House #3, Providence, Rhode Island, 1976

This is another really interesting image and shows great composition and demonstrates her use of a long exposure to show a potentially distressed character with your eye drawn to the upper left third, where her face is. There are many leading lines used to also draw your eye in around the foreground debris, using the floorboards to great effect. Again, black and white are used to great effect adding drama and a timeless quality to the image, with the viewer trying to understand why the model is here and what her connection is to the ruined building.

The lighting looks as if it’s only natural day light and Woodman has done a great job balancing the light coming in the windows in her exposure.

Diane Arbus

“Diane Arbus (March 14, 1923 – July 26, 1971) was an American photographer. Arbus famously worked to normalize marginalized groups and highlight the importance of proper representation of all people. She worked with a wide range of subjects including members of the LGBTQ+ community, strippers, carnival performers, nudists, dwarves, children, mothers, couples, elderly people, and middle-class families. She photographed her subjects in familiar settings: their homes, on the street, in the workplace, in the park—celebrating imagery that seem to reflect our deepest fears and most private wish.”

Source: Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diane_Arbus

Arbus by Allan Arbus

(a film test), c. 1949

I really liked Arbus’s work and thought the messages she conveyed in her images were brilliant. Her use of posing her models to tell a story depicting the opposite of what was the “norm” back when they were taken is very clever.

Like Woodman, Arbus also took her own life in 1972 and really became much more recognised for her talent posthumously, having only ever had minor success when she was alive.

She only ever took photographs for herself and wasn’t usually commissioned for her work.

A family on their lawn one Sunday in Westchester, N.Y. 1968

Gelatine silver print

This is a very powerful image and portrays a wealthy family on their lawn, “relaxing” It challenges the stereotype of male dominance in a family relationship as the husband appears stressed and unhappy while his glamorous wife relaxes in the sun, unbothered by either he husband or interacting in any way with her young son in the background. The images really makes a statement about wealth and the real power in relationships. This also looks like it was taken on a medium format camera using only natural sunlight. The rich dark texture of the grass further separates the couple on their loungers from their environment as they seem to almost float above the lawn due to the amount of light on them. The horizon falls pleasingly in the upper third and draws your eye in initially, then out to the young boy before finally settling you on the main subject of the couple in the foreground.

A young Brooklyn family going for a Sunday outing, NYC, 1966

Gelatine silver print

This photograph is a brilliant contrast to the previous one and really demonstrates the other side of the coin with this working-class family in the Bronx.

Robert Mapplethorpe

“Robert Mapplethorpe (November 4, 1946 – March 9, 1989) was an American photographer, known for his sensitive yet blunt treatment of controversial subject-matter in the black and white medium of photography. His work featured an array of subjects, including celebrity portraits, male and female nudes, self-portraits and still-life images of flowers. His most controversial work is that of the BDSM subculture in the late 1960s and early 1970s of New York City. The homoeroticism of this work fuelled a national debate over the public funding of controversial artwork.”

Source: Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Mapplethorpe

Self-portrait, 1980

I think this photographer was the one who’s work I liked least as his work was very literal and didn’t leave much work for the viewer to do in terms of decoding it’s messages, however, his work is well composed and lit and his use of high contrast black and white very effective.

Stills Gallery – Cindy Sherman

“Cynthia Morris Sherman (born January 19, 1954) is an American artist whose work consists exclusively of photographic self-portraits, depicting herself in many different contexts and as various imagined characters.

Her breakthrough work is often considered to be "Complete Untitled Film Stills," a series of 70 black-and-white photographs of herself in many of the roles of women in performance media (especially arthouse films and popular B-movies). In the 1980s, Sherman used color film and large prints, and focused more on costume, lighting and facial expression.

In 1995, Sherman was the recipient of a MacArthur Fellowship. In 2013 she received an honorary doctorate degree from the Royal College of Art, London.”

Source: Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cindy_Sherman

Still from an untitled film, 1978

Gelatine silver print

This exhibition was mainly covering her early self-portraits where she high-lighted the inequalities of the sexes by dressing up as them for the portraits and thereby “owning” them and taking back control. I prefer her later work which to me, is much more dynamic, when she moved into shooting in colour.

#exhibition

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the-kings-tail-fin · 7 years

Note

A fic of strip and Lynda's first meeting pleeeaaassseeeee 🙏☺️

TIME TO TURN THAT HEAD CANON I DID A WHILE BACK INTO THE REAL DEAL.

“No, trust me, guys, you’ll get a kick out of it.” the Gran Torino persuaded his friends. “Besides, we’ve already come this far.”

“I’ve never been on a road this dilapidated, Tori.” the Chevelle said, dodging a pothole in the middle of the lane. “This better be worth it, or you’re gonna get it. Strip, you keepin’ up?”

“Right behind you, Sammy.” he answered, accidentally hitting the same pothole his friend just missed. “Ow.”

They were in the middle of nowhere on a well-worn two-lane highway, a good twenty miles from the next town over. Having arrived in the bigger town a few days early to spend practice time on the track for the race that coming weekend, they became bored one afternoon and discovered this little town was hosting a demolition derby that night. Tori had insisted it would be a good time.

“Here we go. Finally.” Tori veered off the highway onto a dirt road. They could see stadium lights in the next field over, with stands on either side of what appeared to be a track, fenced in by hay bales.

They all paid the entrance fee and parked at the very top of the stands for a better view. The town folk were pouring in as well, bringing their excitement with them.

“So remind me what the point of this is, again?” Sammy asked Tori, watching a few intoxicated old pickup trucks nearly get into a brawl, betting over who would win.

“Okay, so before it starts, they’re gonna soak this here field until it turns to mud, and they’re gonna let the participants in. They’re all gonna line up around the perimeter, facin’ each other. They’ll wait for the gun to go off, and then the only goal is to be the last car still driving. Very few rules.” Tori explained.

“So they’re gonna mutilate each other in a field of mud.” Strip interpreted. “Because they can.”

“Exactly.” Tori confirmed.

The organizers got the ball rolling fairly quickly. Right as soon as the sun touched the horizon, the coordinator let twenty competitors into the field, introducing them as they entered. Then he raised a pistol, fired, and all hell broke loose.

It was fantastic. Brutal, but fantastic. And it wasn’t just a bunch of old guys ramming into each other like the racers had anticipated. There were cars of all makes and models in there, and at least three women.

An old ambulance flipped a DeSoto completely upside down within the first thirty seconds. A 50′s Dodge Dart actually pushed an older Oldsmobile completely through the hay bale barricade. Twenty minutes into it, they had to stop the derby to remove all the immobilized vehicles in order to make room for the remaining ones. There were only eight cars left.

Strip watched them closely. He was always analyzing other sports, looking for things that could possibly translate into something helpful for racing. But he was having trouble concentrating on the methodologies being employed there, first and foremost because there didn’t seem to be any. Secondly, he kept finding himself watching a younger station wagon rip across the field like it was nothing.

She was very good. There were a few instances where the older and bigger cars would try to team up against her, but she’d always find a way to use their momentum against them. Once, she waited until they were almost on top of her, and then pulled out of the way quickly so they’d crash into each other instead. Another time, she took advantage of the others duking it out among themselves by putting herself in reverse, and backing into them with as much speed as she could muster, breaking one’s rear axle and flipping the other on his side.

Towards the end of the derby, she was one of two left standing. The other car was an older Buick, much bigger and heavier than she was. They faced each other from across the torn up field. The Buick charged at her, and she in turn did the same, aiming straight for him.

Strip was starting to feel something he’d never felt before as he watched her. She had a brilliant silver paint job, was long and sleek, and easily the least damaged of the competitors. She was strong and fearless. Somehow, even though she was completely caked in mud, he found her to be the most intriguing thing he’d ever seen..The butterflies in his carburetor were starting to flutter involuntarily.

It soon became clear they were playing chicken with each other. The Buick had quite a bit of advantage over her, but she wasn’t going to back out. The older car had a twisted frame that made it nearly impossible to drive in a straight line. He had to keep correcting himself. His front end was also slightly angled upwards, creating a sizable gap between his bumper and the ground.

A split moment before they collided head on, the station wagon lowered herself to the ground and angled herself so that the Buick would hit her along her side, and not straight on. She caught the underside of his front bumper with her front left fender, which guided the rest of his body upwards and sideways, like a one-sided ramp. He toppled over onto his side and the crowd went bonkers. But she wasn’t done. For a sure finish, she spun around, drove in a circle around him just to taunt him, and then proceeded to ram into his undercarriage to further flip him upside down. That’s when the judges called it. She’d won. A water tanker came and dumped a bunch of water on her to both celebrate and clean her up, and the coordinators handed her a decent check for her winnings.

As the crowd dispersed, the racers came down the stands and started to head back towards the road.

“Dude, I will never doubt you again.” Sammy told Tori. “We’ve been missing out.”

“Good times all around, my friend.” Tori was still riding on the excitement, all smiles. “Strip? You’re being unusually quiet. What’d you think?”

“Hmm?” Strip was off in his own world. “Oh, it was great. Had a blast.”

He’d caught a glimpse of silver off in the distance, around the other side of the makeshift stadium. He wasn’t paying attention, and almost veered out of his lane in the direction he was looking.

“Boy, somethin’s up with you.” Sammy noticed Strip’s odd behavior. “Is there somethin’ you wanna tell us?”

“Uh…” Strip slowed down a little. “You guys go on without me. I’ll catch up later.”

“What? Where are you going?” Tori yelled at him as he turned off the road and back towards the arena.

What on earth am I doing? he asked himself. What am I even gonna say? I don’t know her at all.

She saw the bright blue car coming from a ways away. Wait, was that the new racer for Dinoco? In the Piston Cup series? What was someone like him doing out here at a place like this? She tried not to act like she saw him coming and tried to calm herself. She didn’t want to appear excited or nervous.

“Hey.” Strip called to her, getting her attention as he drew near. “I just wanted to say that was pretty impressive, what you did out there - I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Oh, thanks.” she smiled, flustered. “Gotta make a livin’ in this town somehow.”

“I guess I should introduce myself.” Strip remembered his manners. “My name’s Strip.”

Oh, I know. she thought, but played it off, not wanting to come off as weird. “I’m Lynda - spelled with a Y, not an I.”

“Lynda, huh?” Strip smiled at her. He really liked the name. “So, tell me, why’s someone like you out here running derbies?”

“It’s just something I found I was good at.” she shrugged it off. “My parents needed the money, so I thought I’d try and compete, hopefully get a little somethin’ to help ‘em out.”

“You seem like a bit of a local legend.” Strip had seen several spectators come up to her and congratulate her before he’d approached her. “You been doing this for a while?”

“A couple years, ever since I got out of school.” she explained. “It’s really the only thing left in this town, unless you’re into farming or being a waitress.”

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, you look fantastic for havin’ been doin’ this as long as you have.” he complimented her.

“Oh, now.” she was embarrassed, but flattered. “Thanks. I try to play it smart, not hard. But enough about me. What in the blazes is a racer like you doin’ out here in the boonies?”

“Eh, a couple buddies and me were in the next town over, gettin’ ready for the race this weekend. We got bored and found out about this. Thought we’d come and watch.” he told her.

“Oh right, there is a race this weekend. That’s neat.” she, of course, had known for weeks they were coming by.

“Yeah, and it’s technically my home track, as well.” he continued. “I grew up only about 50 miles north of here.”

“You’re kidding.” that was one fact she didn’t know. “That’s crazy! Well, I wish you the best of luck! Hopefully, you’ll smoke ‘em.”

“That’s the plan.” Strip said with a smile. “You ever been to a race before?”

Lynda laughed a little. “If it ain’t been on these grounds right here, I ain’t seen it. We don’t really get out a whole lot.”

“Well, how’d you like to change that?” he asked. “I can hook you up with some tickets if you’re interested. You wouldn’t have to worry about payin’ for a thing.”

Lynda was speechless. Was this really happening? Was he just genuinely being nice? Or was he flirting with her? Or both? He looked like a showroom model, and she was just some beat up country girl covered in dirt. It couldn’t be real.

“Really?” she asked softly. It’d always been one of her goals, to save up enough money to go see a real race one day. “You’d really do that?”

“Of course I would.” he said. He noticed that the place had finally cleared out except for the clean up crews. “And I tell you what. I’ll do you one better. If you don’t have any plans for the rest of the night, why don’t you let me take you out for a drink?”

Lynda smiled, and thanked him with the look in her eyes. “I think I’d like that.”

They drove into town and went into the lone bar on Main Street. It was nearly eleven when they got there, and the place wasn’t overly crowded. They secured themselves a corner booth and talked until the place closed early that morning. She found him to be unlike a lot of the racers she knew from television. He was genuinely interested in what she had to say, and the stories she told. He didn’t talk about himself unless prompted, and when he did, she felt like she wasn’t even talking to a celebrity. More like a friend. He felt much the same way. She didn’t treat him like an idol. She was very genuine and everything she said was full of kind heart. They learned a lot about each other in a very short amount of time.

It was three thirty, and they found themselves driving slowly down the street.

“You mind if I escort you home? It’s late. I wanna make sure you make it alright.” Strip offered, wanting to spend more time with her.

“Please?” she asked.

There weren’t any other cars on the streets, so they drove side by side out of town a little ways to her house. On the street out front, they stopped and hesitated.

“Thank you.” Lynda eventually said in a sincere tone. “For everything. I really had a great time tonight.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” Strip responded, with a gentle smile. “I hope we can do this again. Soon.”

“Of course! I’d love to.” she then hesitated again, unsure how to say goodbye.

“So I’ll see you this weekend?” he asked, backing up a few inches to give her more room.

“You can count on it.” she smiled. Quickly, she came up to him and gave him a quick little kiss on his front right fender, winked, and drove up her driveway to her house.

Strip drove all the way back to the race track in the next town with a huge smile on his face.

#strip weathers #lynda weathers #tori #sammy #my ocs

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lesbianrewrites · 7 years

Text

Sorcerer’s Stone Chapter 10

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of Harry Potter by J.K Rowling.

Special Chapter Release as I feel it’s been to long since the last one. :3

Regular Updates Resume: Still Unknown

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

Halloween

Malfoy couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw that Hayley and Raine were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning Hayley and Raine thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Hayley filled Raine in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

“It’s either really valuable or really dangerous,” said Raine.

“Or both,” said Hayley.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn’t have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Hayley and Raine, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone’s attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Hayley was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of her, knocking her bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Hayley ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don’t want everybody knowing you’ve got a broomstick or they’ll all want one. Octavia Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o’clock for your first training session.

Professor M. McGonagall

Hayley had difficulty hiding her glee as she handed the note to Raine to read.

“A Nimbus Two Thousand!” Raine moaned enviously. “I’ve never even touched one.”

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Hayley and felt it.

“That’s a broomstick,” she said, throwing it back to Hayley with a mixture of jealousy and spite on her face. “You’ll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren’t allowed them.”

Raine couldn’t resist it.

“It’s not any old broomstick,” they said, “it’s a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you’ve got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?” Raine grinned at Hayley. “Comets look flashy, but they’re not in the same league as the Nimbus.”

“What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn’t afford half the handle,” Malfoy snapped back. “I suppose you and your family have to save up twig by twig.”

Before Raine could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy’s elbow.

“Not arguing, I hope?” he squeaked.

“Potters been sent a broomstick, Professor,” said Malfoy quickly.

“Yes, yes, that’s right,” said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Hayley. “Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?”

“A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir,” said Hayley, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy’s face. “And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I’ve got it,” she added.

Hayley and Raine headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy’s obvious rage and confusion.

“Well, it’s true,” Hayley chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, brushing aside long curly hair that had fallen over her face, “If she hadn’t stolen Neville’s Remembrall I wouldn’t be on the team. …”

“So I suppose you think that’s a reward for breaking rules?” came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Hayley’s hand.

“I thought you weren’t speaking to us?” said Hayley.

“Yes, don’t stop now,” said Raine, “it’s doing us so much good.”

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

Hayley had a lot of trouble keeping her mind on her lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where her new broomstick was lying under her bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where she’d be learning to play that night. She bolted her dinner that evening without noticing what she was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Raine to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

“Wow,” Raine sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Hayley’s bedspread.

Even Hayley, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

As seven o’clock drew nearer, Hayley left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. She’d never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Hayley of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Hayley mounted her broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling — she swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever she wanted at her lightest touch.

“Hey, Potter, come down!”

Octavia Wood had arrived. She was carrying a large wooden crate under her arm. Hayley landed next to her.

“Very nice,” said Wood, her eyes glinting. “I see what McGonagall meant … you really are a natural. I’m just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you’ll be joining team practice three times a week.”

She opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

“Right,” said Wood. “Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it’s not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers.”

“Three Chasers,” Hayley repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.

“This ball’s called the Quaffle,” said Wood. “The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?”

“The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score,” Hayley recited. “So — that’s sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn’t it?”

“No, not exactly.” Wood replied.

“Now, there’s another player on each side who’s called the Keeper — I’m Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring.”

“Three Chasers, one Keeper,” said Hayley, who was determined to remember it all. “And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?” She pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

“I’ll show you now,” said Wood. “Take this.”

She handed Hayley a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

“I’m going to show you what the Bludgers do,” Wood said. “These two are the Bludgers.”

She showed Hayley two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Hayley noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

“Stand back,” Wood warned Hayley. She bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Hayley’s face. Hayley swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking her nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air — it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

“See?” Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. “The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That’s why you have two Beaters on each team — the Weasley twins are ours — it’s their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So — think you’ve got all that?”

“Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team,” Hayley reeled off.

“Very good,” said Wood.

“Er — have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?” Hayley asked, hoping she sounded offhand.

“Never at Hogwarts. We’ve had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That’s you. And you don’t have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers —”

“— unless they crack my head open.”

“Don’t worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers — I mean, they’re like a pair of human Bludgers themselves.”

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

“This,” said Wood, “is the Golden Snitch, and it’s the most important ball of the lot. It’s very hard to catch because it’s so fast and difficult to see. It’s the Seeker’s job to catch it. You’ve got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team’s Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That’s why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages — I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep.

“Well, that’s it — any questions?”

Hayley shook her head. She understood what she had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

“We won’t practice with the Snitch yet,” said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, “it’s too dark, we might lose it. Let’s try you out with a few of these.”

She pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of her pocket and a few minutes later, she and Hayley were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as she could in every direction for Hayley to catch.

Hayley didn’t miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn’t carry on.

“That Quidditch Cup’ll have our name on it this year,” said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn’t gone off chasing dragons.”

Perhaps it was because she was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all her homework, but Hayley could hardly believe it when she realized that she’d already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. Her lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they’d seen him make Neville’s toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Hayley’s partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch her eye). Raine, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Raine or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since the day Hayley’s broomstick had arrived.

“Now, don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing!” squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. “Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.”

It was very difficult. Hayley and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it — Hayley had to put it out with his charms textbook.

Raine, at the next table, wasn’t having much more luck.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” they shouted, waving their long arms like a windmill.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Hayley heard Hermione snap. “It’s Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”

“You do it, then, if you’re so clever,” Raine snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

“Oh, well done!” cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. “Everyone see here, Miss Granger’s done it!”

Raine was in a very bad mood by the end of the class.

“It’s no wonder no one can stand her,” Raine said to Hayley as the two pushed their way into the crowded corridor, “she’s a nightmare, honestly.”

Someone knocked into Hayley as they hurried past her. It was Hermione. Hayley caught a glimpse of her face — and was startled to see that she was in tears.

“I think she heard you.”

“So?” said Raine, but they looked a bit uncomfortable. “She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.”

Hermione didn’t turn up for the next class and wasn’t seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Hayley and Raine overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls’ bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Raine looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Hayley was just helping herself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, her turban askew and terror on her face. Everyone stared as she reached Professor Dumbledore’s chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, “Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know.”

She then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore’s wand to bring silence.

“Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!”

Percy was in his element.

“Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I’m a prefect!”

“How could a troll get in?” Hayley asked as they climbed the stairs.

“Don’t ask me, they’re supposed to be really stupid,” said Raine. “Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke.”

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Hayley suddenly grabbed Raine’s arm.

“I’ve just thought — Hermione.”

“What about her?”

“She doesn’t know about the troll.”

Raine bit their lip.

“Oh, all right,” they snapped. “But Percy’d better not see us.”

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls’ bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

“Percy!” hissed Raine, pulling Hayley behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

“What’s he doing?” Hayley whispered. “Why isn’t he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?”

“Search me.”

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape’s fading footsteps.

“He’s heading for the third floor,” Hayley said, but Raine held up their hand.

“Can you smell something?”

Hayley sniffed and a foul stench reached her nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it — a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Raine pointed — at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

“The key’s in the lock,” Hayley muttered. “We could lock it in.”

“Good idea,” said Raine nervously.

They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn’t about to come out of it. With one great leap, Hayley managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

“Yes!”

Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop — a high, petrified scream — and it was coming from the chamber they’d just chained up.

“Oh, no,” said Raine, pale as the Bloody Baroness.

“It’s the girls’ bathroom!” Hayley gasped.

“Hermione!” they said together.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic. Hayley pulled the door open and they ran inside.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

“Confuse it!” Hayley said desperately to Raine, and, seizing a tap, she threw it as hard as she could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Hayley. It hesitated, then made for her instead, lifting its club as it went.

“Oy, pea-brain!” yelled Raine from the other side of the chamber, and they threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn’t even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Raine instead, giving Hayley time to run around it.

“Come on, run, run!” Hayley yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn’t move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Raine, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Hayley then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: She took a great running jump and managed to fasten her arms around the troll’s neck from behind. The troll couldn’t feel Hayley hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Hayley’s wand had still been in her hand when she’d jumped — it had gone straight up one of the troll’s nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Hayley clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip her off or catch her a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Raine pulled out their own wand — not knowing what they were going to do they heard themselves cry the first spell that came into their head: “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The club flew suddenly out of the troll’s hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over — and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner’s head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Hayley got to her feet. She was shaking and out of breath. Raine was standing there with their wand still raised, staring at what they had done.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

“Is it — dead?”

“I don’t think so,” said Hayley, “I think it’s just been knocked out.”

She bent down and pulled her wand out of the troll’s nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

“Urgh — troll boogers.”

She wiped it on the troll’s trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn’t realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll’s roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching her heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Raine and Hayley. Hayley had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were even whiter than normal. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Hayley’s mind.

“What on earth were you thinking of?” said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Hayley looked at Raine, who was still standing with their wand in the air. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your dormitory?”

Snape gave Hayley a swift, piercing look. Hayley looked at the floor. She wished Raine would put their wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

“Please, Professor McGonagall — they were looking for me.”

“Miss Granger!”

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

“I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you know, because I’ve read all about them.”

Raine dropped their wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

“If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. Hayley stuck her wand up its nose and Raine knocked it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.”

Hayley and Raine tried to look as though this story wasn’t new to them.

“Well — in that case …” said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, “Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?”

Hermione hung her head. Hayley was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

“Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this,” said Professor McGonagall. “I’m very disappointed in you. If you’re not hurt at all, you’d better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses.”

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Hayley and Raine.

“Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go.”

They hurried out of the chamber and didn’t speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

“We should have gotten more than ten points,” Raine grumbled.

“Five, you mean, once she’s taken off Hermione’s.”

“Good of her to get us out of trouble like that,” Raine admitted. “Mind you, we did save her.”

“She might not have needed saving if we hadn’t locked the thing in with her,” Hayley reminded them.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Pig snout,” they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said “Thanks,” and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

#Harry Potter #Harriet Potter #Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone #Harriet Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone #Lesbiansafe #HPatSS #Sorcerer's Stone #Lesbian Rewrite #Lesbian Rewrites #Lesbian Rewrite Project #Lesbian Rewrites Project #LGBT #LGBTQ #LGBTQA #LGBTQAP #Gay #Lesbian #wlw

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softstarkbucks · 7 years

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I Read the Terms and Conditions for Unconditional Love Pt. 2

Pt. 2! Read Part 1 here

Tony didn't say much when he got to work, putting a black apron on and pinning the badge that read 'Tony' onto the apron. Pepper looked at him with a worried expression, but she didn't bother him. She was his boss, but they were also friends, and she worried about him. Whether he realized it or not. She knew he didn't sleep much, and it definitely seemed like he hadn't been eating a whole lot either, lately. Tony spent his morning cleaning and rearranging the syrups, making everything neat. Once customers started coming in, he quietly kept an eye out for any named Bucky. It had to be a distinctive name. Or something starting with Ja, for that matter. Tony wasn't brave enough to start a conversation, but he wanted to know what Bucky looked like. If he was handsome, maybe if he was interested in other men. Not that anyone would want to date him, but it was a nice thought. It was a sad statement that so little human contact already had him suckered in...but he was lonely. Anyone talking to him past pleasantries was a big deal.

Bucky spent his morning stacking books and alternating between silence and folk music, he didn't have to work the front desk 'till after lunch, 'till closing. Bucky let himself relish the soft quiet of the back shelves long as he could. The smell of libraries was something he'd always found comforting. When Bucky was little, his mom would bring him here, read him stories, then listen to him stumble through a couple. They'd take out stacks and stacks of books, Bucky much rather ripping through those than playing at recess. Sure, he'd get wrangled into a football game once in a while, but there was always a doggy eared book sitting at the edge of the field. Right as he was finishing the middle grade fantasy section, there was a light tap on his shoulder. He looked over, his friend Sam standing beside him. He took his earbuds out and raised his eyebrows. "What's up?" Sam usually didn't come to the library 'till closing, when they went out to dinner, at Sam's insistence, and rented a redbox, or played some Xbox. They'd met in college, dated a little, but then realized that they were more friends. Really good friends. Sam was dating some nice guy but still made sure to keep Bucky in his circle. It never seemed to be out of pity either; Sam seemed to genuinely like hanging out with him. It was nice. And new. "Wanna grab some lunch? Sharon said she'd give you a longer break if you stay after closing to catalog." Bucky snorted. Sharon was a good boss, but it was rare that she made changes to the schedule. "I wonder why," He muttered. "But I'll take it. Where were you thinking?" Sam shrugged. "That cafe couple blocks over? Heard they have good pastries." Bucky nodded, and Sam gave him a thumbs up, their little 'okay' sign, and began to lead the way out to the street. With Sam's back to him, Bucky took the oppurtunity to put his earplugs in. Even though he'd had them awhile now, Bucky still was conscious of them; if his voice was too loud or soft, mumbled or stuttering; if people saw them and thought he either didn't want to hear them or belonged in the looney bin. Sam knew, but Bucky had made the excuse that they were for concerts. He doubted he'd care, but sometimes Bucky rather keep things to himself rather than face the questioning.

Tony's morning was mainly comprised of making small talk and complicated lattes. By the time afternoon rolled around, there was a slight lull so Pepper made him have a leftover breakfast sandwich. He was still behind the counter working, just eating a little something. It wasn't an easy job for him, but he managed. Sometimes by the time he got home, the paranoia was almost too intense- but he managed. Normally by the time he got home, he just planned on drowning himself in his work. Today wasn't too bad though, they had been quiet and fairly calm, only a few customers. Not so great for Pepper, but alright for him. He just hoped it wasn't his fault that she was losing business.

Bucky and Sam got to the cafe and stepped inside, a wave of AC hitting their faces. It was sickening and lovely at the same time, as were most things in Bucky's life. "I'll go find us a seat," Sam said, giving Bucky a smirk. "I'll have a BLT with chicken." Sometimes, he really, really hated that Sam Wilson had majored in Pysch. Always pushing him out of his comfort zone, making him talk to people, go to the store and ask a question rather than just look it up, a real pain in the ass. Even if it had been helping him, though he'd never, ever admit that to Sam. Bucky stepped into line, which was only one other person and glanced up at the menu. He really didn't feel like eating, but it was lunch, so he guessed he oughta. There was a wrap that didn't look too bad; lettuce, cheese, some veggies, he could pick at that. Sooner than he would have liked, he was up at the cashier; a shorter guy named Tony. Wait. Tony, Tony, Tony. Nah, it was a common enough name, and he lived in a busy enough place. If it was the same guy who'd calmed him through morse code last night, he would actually believe in love again. Not that it was love. Wait, what was Bucky even thinking? Fuck if he knew. "Uh," He said, digging his voice out of the grave. "Hey? Can I have- please have a BLT with chicken, and, um, a Greek wrap? And, like, two fountain drinks?" Bucky forced a smile, trying to seem polite and casual, but if this Tony couldn't see that he was jumping out of his skin, he was blind.

Tony smiled a bit, sensing his discomfort. "Sure," He said, careful not to talk too loudly. "Could I have a name for the order?" This man was handsome, probably his best looking customer of the day. He started to put together his order, imagination running wild. Maybe this was the man he was looking for, though it seemed unlikely. "Oh, did you want the Greek sauce on the wrap, or no? I'm sorry." He had almost forgotten to ask. It was standard, but he always asked. It didn't help that he was feeling nervous around this new, attractive stranger. It was a little bit of everything and he was trying not to freak /him/ out anymore either. God, everything was so complicated. Ugh. "S-sorry."

"Uh, on the side's okay." Bucky mumbled, fishing out his wallet. "And s'Bucky." If the man could understand him well enough to not ask for a repeat, Bucky might damn well kiss him. It was a bit comforting to know that he wasn't the only one who stumbled over his words sometimes. He felt like the rest of the world was so smooth spoken, just wanting for him to catch the fuck up already. Leaning over the counter, he stuck his card into the chip reader, and signed off on the twenty five dollar order. He looked up at the cashier and half smiled, waiting for the receipt and soda fountain cups. "T-thanks."

Tony looked up at him, holding the cup. He just stared for a second. Bucky. This guy's name was Bucky. What were the odds of that? It was certainly the right neighborhood. Maybe it was him. "Uh, I- did you say your name was Bucky? I..nevermind. Here, uh, here's your drinks." He smiled a little, and gave him the little tray of food as well. "Have a good day." He remembered, then moved to do something, /anything/ except look at Bucky right now. Oh, God. It had to be him. It wasn't like that was a common name of anyone, really.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at the question, but didn't go to answer it when the cashier handed him his things and smiled. "You too." He said back, reminding himself that that was something people said. He walked back to the table Sam had chose and set the tray down, picking up his plate and handing Sam his before sticking the tray on top of a trash can. Before he took a bite, he looked at Sam, raising a shoulder towards the counter. "Do you know that guy? The one working the register?" Sam turned discretely and gave Tony a quick once over. "No, don't think so, should I?" Bucky swallowed the bite of wrap he'd taken. "I don't think so, he just acted funny when I said my name, y'know, for the order. I mean, there was this guy-" Bucky stopped himself before going any further. Even Sam didn't know about how he acted when he was alone. So far, it was just his neighbor. "Nevermind." But the mention of a guy had piqued Sam's interest. "A guy? Buck, that's great man!" Sam would sure think it's great if he heard that they were talking through morse code at two in the morning after Bucky had a freakout. "How is he?" Sam asked. Good, he wanted to say, he's fine, but suddenly even those three words were very, very hard for Bucky.

Tony watched him go for a second, then glanced to his friend. Guy friend. They seemed to be talking, seemed..pretty happy. Maybe they were dating. It seemed to be all in vain. Bucky was probably already taken. He sighed a little and started to clean the counter, even though it was already clean. Tony had to keep busy. Some things made him feel better. This didn't, but at least it kept his eyes off of Bucky. It had to be him, the man he talked to last night. He felt his friend's gaze on him, and Tony felt himself shrink in on himself. He really didn't feel comfortable anymore, all Tony wanted to do was leave, but Pepper was depending on him today. Nobody else was in or was able to take over his shift. They wouldn't be in here forever, maybe thirty minutes at the most. He could last, it would be fine. Ugh, if only they were busier. Things would be easier then. He could pretend he didn't even see them, and stay busy.

Bucky and Sam finished their lunch, and then decided to use the rest of their time to catch up. The silence of eating had allowed Bucky to recuperate a bit, and was ready for conversation when Sam had come back from tossing his plate. They'd started with small talk, but quickly it veered off into a discussion about Renaissance; one of Bucky

Bucky's favorite topics, and Sam's too. They'd met each other in an art class that covered everything from Classical to Baroque. "It just bothers me, y'know? How people try and erase critical parts of these people's identities!" His hands waved around, flapping a bit. "If they were queer, historians erase it! And if they were mentally ill? Forget it! People honestly believe that Leonardo Da Vinci made the work that he did 'cause he was so depressed! And-and, if he had been on meds, we never would'a gotten Starry Night!" Sam nodded, letting him finish, before gesturing with his hand near the table top. /Settle down./ That was by far Bucky's least favorite thing to hear. 'Cause he never realized he was too loud or taking up too much space with his movements 'till someone told him it was too much. When he was happy, he was too much. Bucky dropped his hands and nodded, still fidgeting them under the table, like their were electric sparks he had to release. "Y'know?" He said, barely above a whisper. Sam responded, agreeing with him, and adding another fact that he'd picked up in the paper; but Bucky was biting his lip. He'd fucked up, hadn't he?

Tony watched, frowning slightly. He couldn't stand by. Whether this was the same Bucky or not, his friend didn't understand. He walked over to the table, with a nice little pastry in hand. Pepper could take it out of his paycheck, she would understand. "Uh, excuse me." He said, looking at them both. "I thought one of you might like this, and I wanted to let you know that you weren't doing anything wrong." He looked at Bucky. "It's fine to stim here if you need to, the owner understands." He had a panic attack here once, and Pepper had understood. He knew she wouldn't mind. "We..we want our cafe to be a community space, and that includes everyone." He smiled a little bit at Bucky, and looked down. "Anyways. I'm sorry to interrupt." He didn't like Sam, partially because he was jealous, but also because this guy seemed like he deserved to be happy. If Tony could help with that, geez...he'd do anything. Pepper looked at him, not upset- mostly surprised when he came back to the counter. "That was brave, Tony." She said, quietly. Tony shrugged and shook his head. "Not really. Just remember to take the raspberry tart out of my pay, please." He said, not wanting to feel like he had taken anything. She had already given him so much, he didn't want to take advantage of her kindness.

Bucky only managed a quick glance up at the man, Tony. Still Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony. He swore the name was like a song in itself. Up-down, up-down. He looked down again, not in the mood to test his boundaries and thank the man himself; Sam could cut him some slack this time around, right? He did, the great guy, and thanked Tony for the pastry. “See?” He said quietly, edging Bucky’s gaze up with his voice. “S’okay, nobody cares.” The reason he’d told him to settle down in the first place was all Bucky’s own fault; he’d told Sam to tell him when he acted weird. Sam really hadn’t wanted to, ‘cause he thought Bucky was fine just how he is, but when some jerk muttered something rude under their breath, he’d changed his tune. Sam had always wanted to be his friend, not his therapist, and neither of them really knew how to go about this. Bucky shook his head, rubbing his thumb in a circle over the glossy tabletop. “Yeah, sure.” He mumbled, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “C’mon, Buck,” Sam said, “Least we got a tart out of it, right?” Bucky snort, and sat up a little straighter. “You know me, Sam.” He met his best friend’s eyes. “If it means we get free food, I’ll be a fool in public all you want.” Still refusing to approve of himself, Bucky edged towards self-deprecating humor instead. Made other people laugh, and lightened the mood; made him seem more like a joke than a person, but it was easier that way.

Tony stood quietly for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Okay, that had been harder than he would admit. Still, it was fine. After a moment, he recovered and a customer walked in, so he put on a small smile and took their order. It would be fine. Freaking out was for being at home. He made the latte with precision, drowning himself in the work. He was a good barista, able to keep track of everything surprisingly well. Maybe he'd learned something, after all those years in his lab. Now all he had was this space, but it was at least a place where he knew where everything was and how it worked. The drink was ready in just about a minute and a half, and Tony gave it to them still wearing a small smile. "Three o' eight." He said, politely.

Their extended lunch hour soon came to an end, and Sam and Bucky both needed to get back to work. They rose, hugged quickly, and parted ways on the sidewalk. Now, the rest of the afternoon would be spent checking books out for harried college students and little kids who were just starting to read Henry and Mudge. He set himself up at the front desk, a deep mahogany beast of wood and felt accents, his printed draft off to the side, laptop charging, cord sticking out of his bag. A young girl, about twelve or so with a shock of blond hair came up to the desk, hefting a stack of books almost taller than her. Bucky laughed softly, and leaned over to help her. “You got a lotta good books here,” He said, smiling at her. She had a sparkly ‘A+ Reader!’ sticker on her dress. “Yeah, I really like reading. Do you?” Bucky began checking them out, keeping an eye out for a bag he could put the books in. “Yeah, ” He said after scanning her card, “When I was your age, I was into Lord of the Rings, have you-” Suddenly his back stiffened and a lump the size of Texas formed in his throat. As her name appeared on the screen, Eliza /Eliza, Eliza, Eliza/, Eliza Rogers, a sickeningly familiar set of footsteps walked up behind her. Her brother. Steve.

#pt 2 #bucky/tony #tony/bucky #bucky barnes #tony stark #winteriron #starkbucks #rp #roleplay

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kansascityhappenings · 4 years

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You can still buy $1 homes all over Italy

https://newsource-embed-prd.ns.cnn.com/videos/newsource-video-embed.js

While most good things get more expensive, one dream got ridiculously cheap in 2019 thanks to the rise of the €1 home in Italy.

CNN Travel broke the news 12 months ago that the village of Sambuca in southern Italy was selling off abandoned, dilapidated homes for just over a dollar as it tried to reverse a trend of rural depopulation.

The story quickly went viral, drawing global interest, particularly as other towns and villages from the northern Alps to sunny Sicily were attempting the same thing.

Soon, some of these towns found themselves besieged by buyers. Mayors fielded thousands of requests, websites crashed, sleepy villages were invaded and locals freaked out.

The silence of narrow alleys was broken by foreign voices and loud reporters. Dusty cobwebbed doors were unlocked for the first time in decades as people lined up early in the morning to secure an Italian casa dolce casa (home sweet home).

As CNN reported in November, some of the first buyers have already moved in and, for once, an offer that seemed too good to be true actually appears to have been worth it.

A year later, has it all died down? Have all the bargain homes been snapped up?

Not quite. It’s still possible to get in on the action.

Below, we’ve rounded up the destinations still offering deals for anyone willing to commit to refurbishing a crumbling Italian home.

And if you’re wondering how you get a slice of the action, here are a few pointers:

For starters, unless you know someone who’s already on board and can advise, it’s worth checking out the towns’ official websites for listings of available properties and application form downloads.

Visiting the area to see what you’re actually signing up for before closing the deal is a good move, though many buyers have grabbed their houses sight unseen.

If your application and documents are approved, the town will contact you regarding the next steps.

But remember the catch: buyers must pay a security deposit varying between €2,000 and €5,000 and commit to refurbishing the property within three years. Once it’s complete and the purchase deed is made, the deposit is refunded.

Here’s a round-up of destinations to help choose the right place.

Gangi

Located in Sicily, near Palermo, this snail-shaped town was one of the first to sell €1 houses back in 2011 and has so far been the most successful.

“We’re really proud,” says Mayor Giuseppe Ferrarello. “Over 160 crumbling dwellings got a makeover thanks to new owners and this has triggered a revival also of the private real estate market. The old center shines again.”

And it’s not yet all sold out — some 15 free homes are still on the market.

The old houses, known as “Pagliarole,” have two floors and were built in the 1800s to accommodate animals on the lower floor and peasant families above.

The homes all have two entrances: one facing the hilltop, the other downhill. These are typical of such “beehive-style hamlets” that sit on hillsides.

Gangi is part of Italy’s Most Beautiful Villages club, an annual honor bestowed on bucolic locations.

The village has Greek origins and a mystical vibe — it’s one of two places in Europe where the Holy Spirit is said to have appeared.

Another divine sight is the view that stretches to the Etna volcano.

Ollolai

Located in the wild mountain region of Barbagia on the Mediterranean island of Sardinia, it rises on a pristine patch of land where ancient farming traditions live on.

The houses are made with gray granite rock, while town walls are covered in bright graffiti.

The fresh air, zero smog and great views have a healing power, according to newcomers. In fall, an event known as Cortes Apertas (open courtyards) sees stables and ancient turf taverns open to the public, offering crazily good wine, ham, cheese and a few other delicacies.

In fact, this is a cheese kingdom, famous for its exquisite Casu Fiore Sardo.

Cultural highlights here include a masked carnival with goat costumes and archaic rituals.

Mayor Efisio Arbau says the town has so far sold 10 houses. One’s been turned into a luxury B&B by a Dutch couple.

“The €1houses project has triggered a tourism boom and lured regional investments,” he says. “A modern renaissance is underway.”

Bivona

Bivona is the latest Sicilian town to join the gang, also offering tax bonuses and reduced red tape to anyone wanted to take up residence.

Set inside a rocky amphitheater in the heart of the Sicani Hills park, Bivona lives up to the Latin origins of its name “Bis-bona,” meaning twice good or twice beautiful — a reference to the fertility of its soil and unspoilt nature.

Orange groves, peach trees, Arab-style courtyards, an exotic cuisine of sweet-and-sour concoctions and gourmet religious festivals are among the lures for new residents.

“We get hundreds of emails each day so we’re setting up a multilingual agency to help buyers,” says town councilor Angela Cannizzaro. “Locals are now full of hope, this beautiful town deserves a second life.”

Houses will be assigned once all applications are weighed. Ten are currently available but more are expected to be made available.

Cammarata

Cammarata has possibly the best deal available, with homes offered totally free of charge plus the added incentive of a €1,000 baby bonus for newborns.

Located in wild Sicily, it’s known as “the town with 1,000 balconies to the East,” as each window basks in spectacular sunrises.

Locals pride themselves in being exceptionally welcoming. The town’s cuisine boasts dishes that include tripe, lamb, sweet and sour caponata veggies with pine nuts and almonds, and sanguinaccio salami made with pig’s blood (believed to be an aphrodisiac).

The town is known for its citizens’ longevity, something credited to its mild climate and the fresh air of the Monte Cammarata natural reserve.

At the moment, a dozen empty houses are still on the market, with just two so far purchased.

“I’ve made it my crusade,” says mayor Vincenzo Giambrone. “If old owners do not show up to claim their falling properties I will expropriate all empty buildings and offload them to newcomers.”

Zungoli

Zungoli boasts a stellar location, near Naples and the Amalfi Coast.

Set atop a sandstone hill, it’s a maze of caves and zig-zag, circular alleys connected by huge, uneven grass-covered cobblestone steps that wind up to a stunning castle.

Medieval bridges lead to a cluster of blue, pink, green and yellow pastel-colored farm dwellings and dome-shaped aristocratic mansions that, in total, are home to about 1,000 people.

Inside multi-layered Byzantine caves once used as storage rooms during the Crusades, teardrop-shaped Caciocavallo cheeses are now hung to season.

The countryside offers detox trekking tours along old shepherd trails.

Zungoli has just gotten a makeover with shiny new pavements, public LED lights and great Wi-Fi.

Thirty houses have so far been sold but a third lot will be launched in January. “A wind of change is blowing, it’s revitalizing the local rural economy and creating jobs,” says Mayor Paolo Caruso.

Borgomezzavalle

Borgomezzavalle is the perfect Alpine alternative to sultry Sicily.

Located in Piedmont at the Swiss border, it’s a triple deal: abandoned €1 houses, €1,000 for each newborn and another €2,000 to anyone willing to kickstart a business.

Despite being stuck inside a canyon, Borgomezzavalle enjoys sunlight all day, even in winter, thanks to a huge mirror placed on the opposite hillside that reflects the rays.

It’s a tiny jewel of 320 residents.

Brightly colored houses with thatched roofs, carved from the mountainside, are clustered around neat cobbled piazzas with wooden benches and flower pots.

There are frescoed arcaded porches and lavish loggias. The €1 buildings on sale include crumbling wood and stone cottages, barns, stables and former farm and artisan dwellings.

So far however five houses have been sold, mainly to Italians and a group of monks.

“New families are moving in,” says Deputy Mayor Stefano Bellotti. “A baby girl was born just the other day, it’s something worth celebrating. Her parents got the bonus.”

Sambuca

The supreme winner of Italy’s €1 homes rally is Sambuca in Sicily. After making global headlines in January, there was a property stampede.

Due to the sky-high demand, local authorities decided to auction all 16 homes on offer to the highest bidder for up to €25,000.

Only one house was given away for €1.

Unlike other towns that have been brokering deals between buyers and sellers, the local authorities here own all buildings abandoned after a 1968 earthquake, so they can easily dispose of the empty properties.

“We’re living a peaceful revolution,” says deputy mayor Giuseppe Cacioppo. The real estate market has revamped with over 80 private sales and people keep flocking, asking to buy even pieces of land, olive groves and vineyards.

Sambuca’s main lure is the picturesque maze of Saracen districts, the Belvedere where an emir’s palace once stood, and the rugged surrounding hilltops producing high quality wine.

Local delicacies include snails and nipple-shaped cakes known as minne.

Nulvi

This Sardinian shepherd town of Nulvi has the luxury of being close to the baby-powder beaches of Stintino and Asinara island.

Primitive nuraghe stone altars dot the landscape while the town features bright wall paintings known as murales that depict rural and mystical scenes.

There are weird highlights: a crumbled church has become the town’s main street, its stone nave still standing above the heads of passers-by, and there’s a sacred stone well where ancient tribes made sacrifices to the pagan gods of water.

“We have nine properties for €1 and they’ll soon be all sold out, but we’ll be placing more on the market as old buyers get rid of theirs,” says local councilor Luigi Cuccureddu. “When the project was launched locals thought it was a joke and a miracle if just one home was sold. We’ve proved them wrong.”

Cantiano

Straddling the border between Umbria and the Marche in central Italy, Cantiano was founded by fiery Italic tribes that were forced to bend the knee to Rome.

Thanks to its strategic position along the scenic Via Flaminia, one of Italy’s oldest routes, it was turned into a military settlement by ancient Romans.

Two dilapidated €1 former farmsteads located in the rural surroundings have already been sold but a couple of historical buildings in the old village center are available.

One of these is a stunning, crumbling palazzo in need of a €120,000 restyle.

Cantiano has a quirky equine vibe. Local woodcutters later turned into breeders of a prime horse bred on the Catria hills, giving rise to strange horse fairs and a horse meat-based cuisine featuring meatballs and breaded foal, apparently a delicacy alongside visciolata, a sour cherry liqueur.

“We’re close to Gubbio and Urbino, people are fascinated by our medieval piazza and the easy lifestyle,” says councilor Filippo Gentilotti.

Fabbriche di Vergemoli

Now how about a free home in Tuscany near Lucca, Pistoia and the chic Versilia coast?

It’s not a joke. This town is a cluster of hamlets scattered in the UNESCO-listed protected forest of the Apuan Alps dotted with isolated, ghostly ruins of abandoned miners’ dwellings covered in lush vegetation.

It’s a jungle, with jutting-out stone walls and collapsed roofs. Many areas can be reached only by foot.

The difficult location has slowed efforts to offload its properties.

“We started off in 2006,” says mayor Michele Giannini. “It’s taken years and so far just eight farmsteads have been sold. But potentially there are a hundred, and people as far as China, Russia and Brazil are interested.

“Trouble is the old owners’ heirs, mainly living in the States, are hard to track down.”

Being an under-developed area, investors can claim back up to 60% of their refurbishment costs from the European Union.

Those who take up the offer can enjoy pristine streams, ancient quaint bridges and a peculiar Grotta del Vento — or Wind Cave — where wind gusts make spooky echoes.

Mussomeli

The Sicilian town of Mussomeli has sold 125 homes priced at €1. Another 50 are still available and there are many other “superior” buildings in better shape (but slightly more expensive).

“We’re pushing old owners to dispose of their properties so we can hand these over to newcomers in an upcoming lot,” says councilor Toti Nigrelli.

Mussomeli, surrounded by honeysuckle and eucalyptus trees, takes its name stemming from the Latin Mons Melis, aka the “Hill of Honey.”

Local delicacies include honey-coated guastedde buns and cuddureddi fried milk-soaked doughnuts.

It boasts one of Italy’s most breathtaking fortresses, dubbed the Enchanted Castle, which clings like a spider on a pointed rock.

The fertile green farmland is dotted with old sulfur mines, sanctuaries, Roman necropolises and traces of primitive settlements.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/12/25/you-can-still-buy-1-homes-all-over-italy/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/12/25/you-can-still-buy-1-homes-all-over-italy/

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