#david's captivated by a handsome stranger | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imatechbummerliketomholland · 3 years

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"ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴏᴏᴋ, ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?" - ʜ.ᴏ

Hello to you! There it is! My first Harrison request. I'm working for a one shot with him, but it takes me so long because it's a little angst. But don't worry, this one is just fluff! I hope you'll all like it! I did not have time to be reread and corrected. So be indulgent once again, English is not my native language.

Summary: harrison met you in this coffe/bookstore where you friend worked. Since that day, he tried to ask you out but nothing really worked he would like. Until that day. Word count: 2690 Warning: some of swear, spoilers of "one day" by David Nicholls" Pairing : harrison osterfield Request: yes!

You walked happily into the store, heading towards the counter where your best friend was. “The cup and feather” was a second home to you. The warm atmosphere that reigned in the bookstore/cafe has always seduced you. There was a peace of mind that relaxed your muscles: the woody decor, the warm and captivating light, the mixed smell of old/new books and coffee. You were leaning on the counter where Maya was completing an order for a regular.

“Good morning Luke! Enjoy your drink!” you said with a large smile.

“Hello dear y/n! Thanks sweetie! Let me know if you want to drink something. It’s on me”

“It won’t be necessary but thank you. I appreciate!”

The customer adds a generous 10-pound bill to the tip pot with a wink at you. Maya thanked Luke and then gave you a broken look. You gave her an amused smile, shaking your head, already anticipating her next line. But nothing could dissipate your good mood, your day was good.

"It's unbelievable how my tips increase when you're here. What's your secret?"

“Hello to you too, dear best friend. I don't have a secret...but maybe, try to be...nicer to customers? Give them a smile while you're taking their order! ”

“Hello honey. I’m so thankful you’re here. It’s a boring day”

It was a pretty quiet day, there weren't a lot of customers. The rather gloomy London weather seemed to have put them off. A huge thunderous sound echoed outside and Maya jumped. You had a sympathetic and somewhat amused smile. You liked the storm. To be honest, you liked the storm when you weren't alone: feel the heavy, electric atmosphere before the refreshing rain falls. She looked out the window with annoyance.

"Jesus. It looks like it's gonna be a long day" she complained

“Don’t be so dramatic! Let me help. How can I help you?”

“There is this book cart that I have to put away and that has been lying around for an hour. But my boss would kill me if he found out that someone who actually doesn’t work here, did it for me”

Maya gave you a knowing look. It wasn't that she hated you helping her with her work, on the contrary, you were quite useful to her. But she would have preferred that you spend your free time other than helping her. You took a few books from the cart, sticking your tongue out at your best friend and rushing down the aisles of the library section. The distinct sound of a heavy downpour was heard outside and a few seconds later, the store door opened to let in two young, but also handsome, men. Maya bit her lip as one of the individuals approached the counter with a polite but warm smile. He seemed tall, with a thin but toned build, thin lips, his blue eyes pierced her from the moment his eyes met hers; a fucking model.

"Hello. Do you mind if we stay a little while the downpour subsides?" he asked.

" Hell no, of course! You can stay as long as you want as long as I can admire you… uh, shit, no, as long as you order something… did I say the other part out loud?

The second boy laughed, but nothing mocking. He was shorter than the guy across from Maya, brown hair and chocolate eyes, muscular arms but not sculpted like a bodybuilder. He seemed in good shape.

The blonde raised his eyebrows, an amused smile on his lips.

"I'm afraid so. Um ... okay. Tom?" he turned to his friend "Do you want to drink something?"

"Black tea. A single sugar and a drop of milk."

Your friend nodded meaning she heard it and then she patiently waited for the blonde to place his order.

"I'll have mint tea. Just one sugar too."

"Noted! Feel free to go grab a book once you've settled in."

The blonde smiled at Maya as he turned slightly to the tables to settle in with his friend. You were immersed in reading a synopsis when you finally returned to the counter. You looked up too late while talking to your best friend.

"Hey, Maya can I keep - ouch"

You had just hit a rather solid chest and your eyes widened in surprise. Two hands grabbed your shoulders before the fall, stabilizing you on your two good. And thank you, handsome stranger because you would have been able to let yourself fall so as not to drop the book you were holding in your hands.

"Everything's alright, love?"

"Huh Huh" You barely said, still a little surprised by the impact.

He smiled at you and finally joined Tom at a table without giving you a chance to thank him. You leaned against the counter giving your best friend an indecipherable expression.

"Who are these guys?"

"I know, right?" Maya whispered, biting her lips again.

You smiled to her. You and your best friend had the same tastes when it came to boys. So it was no wonder that they found them attractive.You quickly gave a last look on the mysterious guy before focusing on the cart again. Your logic wanted you to go back and forth rather than pushing this wheeled machine. And deep down, it was also an excuse to admire the blond boy at the table 7. When you came back from your last trip down the aisles and there were no books left on the cart. You noticed with a sad expression on your face that both boys were gone. What did you expect? A romantic scene where love story is born in the aisles of a bookstore cafe. What's the point? You might not even have been his type. Correction: You were certainly not his type. Maya came over to you, a mischievous half-smile on her face.

"If you're wondering. His name is Harrison. I heard his friend call him. And he kindly tipped you 25 pounds."

"I don't work here."

"It's just like"

"I would probably never see him again, Maya"

"Believe me, I have a feeling that you will."

☙♡❧

And she was right. The following week did not bring the handsome stranger, the following week either. You had totally, or almost, forgotten this delicious abrupt encounter. You were in the aisles of the cafe, looking for the next book you were going to devour when you were politely tapped on the shoulder, a throat clearing accompanying the gesture.

"Hm, excuse me?"

You turned around and your eyes widened a little in surprise. You did not expect, or more, to see this beautiful stranger again. He was holding a book in his hands and looked nervous. His demeanor was endearing and you couldn't help but suppress a shy smile.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking to get my mom a book. I've heard of this one but ... I wanted your advice."

You raised an amused eyebrow. He wanted to buy a book from his mom and he went to a coffee shop to ask you for advice on a book he obviously couldn't buy here. You found this sweet and awkward. You gave him a shy and mischievous smile.

“You know you're not supposed to buy the books here… just read them. »You joked

"Hmm, yeah ... but ... I wanted your opinion since ..."

"I don't work here ..."

The surprise was read in his eyes as in yours but for different reasons. Harrison felt silly for asking you when you weren't an employee. You, you were surprised by your tone, which seemed so cold when it was not your intention. You didn’t want to be rude to him. In fact, he makes you a little bit uncomfortable. You had never been so awkward with a boy but, for some reason you didn't know, his piercing blue eyes bowled you over. You couldn't deny that you were drawn to him and there was something really spellbinding about Harrison. To catch up you glanced at the book, you wrinkled his nose and you scratched your head

“I'm sorry, this is not the kind of novel I read ... But if she read Fifty-shade of Grey ... this book might please her” you told him, somewhat embarrassed.

Harrison gave you a confused look and you pointed to the cover of the book. To be fair, although he won't admit it, Harrison had grabbed the first book he saw off the storage cart and it actually turned out that it was an erotic fiction rather categorized in the young adult, a bestseller. Honestly, you didn't know where to put yourself. You watched the cheeks of the boy in front of you turn deep red.

"Okay ... Okay. I wasn't there for my mom."

"No shame ..." you tried to comfort him

"No..no i swear. It..i'm … okay ...

A boy with curly hair appeared in the aisle, calling out to the young man, breaking that awkward moment between you at the same time. Harrison's friend seemed vaguely familiar to you, as if you knew him or seemed to know him.

"Harrison, we're late. Tom's gonna kill me, mate!"

Harrison gave a sigh of relief that he seemed to have held back. He gave you a sorry smile and apologized before leaving you, putting the book down on a shelf. They headed for the exit and you stayed there, without moving, still challenged by this moment. You heard a laugh that came from the curl without actually hearing the reason.

"Did you ask her advice about 365 DNI? What kind of div are you?"

"Shut up Harry."

And Harry's laugh echoed one more time before the door closed on them. After a few seconds, you returned to the counter where your best friend was. She nodded at you, as if asking like it had happened. You have to shake your head negatively while shrugging your shoulders. It was the most bizarre interaction you have had in your life. A total failure. With that, he was sure you would never see him again.

☙♡❧

But you were wrong again. You were, again and again, at the cafe. Maya was finishing her shift and you were sitting at a table with a book in your hand. You were in your own little world when your gaze was drawn to a male hand, wearing rings highlighting the veins of that said hand, placing a cup of latte on your table.

"I didn't order any-" you said before interrupting you.

Harrison was in front of you, a shy little smile drawn across his face. You frowned, intrigued. How had he guessed your favorite drink? A simple glance over the blond's shoulder told you your answer: Maya was smiling at you, thumbs up, as a token of encouragement. You looked Harrison, pursed your lips, flattered by the gesture.

“I wanted to apologize for the other time.” Harrison finally spoke.

“It's nothing ... I..I hope your mom liked the book.” you just told him with a little smile

"I… It wasn't for her."

"Oh..for whom?" you asked intrigued.

He smirked, amused by your carelessness. Was he not obvious, however? Since the day he met you, the actor hadn't stopped thinking about you. Tom and Harry kept telling him that he was completely whipped and looked like a fool.

"For no one actually. I grabbed the first book I found."

"But why?" you seemed more confused.

"I wanted to see you. It was a pretext… I didn't know how to approach you."

Your cheeks turned as red as Harrison's the last you met him. You were flattered but at the same time surprised to know that he was interested in you. You've replaced a strand of hair behind your ear, blushing. An awkward silence has settled between you two. Neither of them really knew how to break the ice. Harrison looked up at the book you had put on the table when he arrived.

"What do you read?" he asked interested

“One day by David Nicholls. It’s the one of the most moving books I have ever read.”

And you started talking for hours about how this book moved you and how Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess' portrayal in the film adaptation blew your mind. How you went from laughter to tears to anger. How you got attached to the characters in both the book and the movie. Harrison couldn't stop you. He admired you talking with passion and found you endearing. The way you spoke with your hands or the way you frowned when some character action disturbed you. You were in your world and he wanted to enter it.

"I hope we end up like them." He said, interrupting you.

You suddenly stopped in your monologue looking at Harrison puzzled. You didn't expect this. First, because by knowing the story of this novel. You didn't want anyone to experience people's stories, no matter how beautiful it was. Second, did Harrison just say he was considering something with you?

"Like who?" you asked

"Emma and Dexter ... I hope we have such a great story."

You pursed your lips, amused. You swallowed to keep from laughing and you shook your head. You were sure he didn't read the book but you wanted to play with him a little.

"I don't hope so."

"Why? Their love story is beautiful!"

"You haven't read this book have you?"

"Of course yes!" he defended himself, uncomfortable.

In truth, he was lying. He was trying to impress you. He had simply said he wanted to live this love affair to soften you and try to approach you to ask for a date. Once again, you smiled, genuinely amused by the boy in front of you. He looked so innocent and so confident in her walk. But you knew ... You knew he hadn't read the book.

"Harrison, she dies at the end"

Harrison's cheeks have once again turn red. He played with his hands nervously, embarrassed. He was an idiot, a complete fucking div. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to let go of all the stress he had accumulated but also to find a way to make up for it. You were blowing him outright. He thought you were so beautiful and had never been so awkward about approaching a girl. Of course, Harry had introduced him to his ex-girlfriend. But, the actor had never had a hard time flirting. He knew his strengths, he was kinda funny, can't deny he was pretty handsome, after all he was a model. He was also an actor, he could play all emotions, recite hundreds of lines of dialogue. But you looked different and he was unable to have a conversation with you without being ridiculous. You found that rather adorable.

"Okay, okay. I don't hope we end up like them."

“I hope you don't wait 20 years before asking me out?”

Harrison looked at you surprised. Did you really just reach out to her? Did he hear what you just said or did his imagination play a dirty trick on him? Her heart skipped a beat. You pursed your lips before putting on a warm but shy smile. You weren't that confident in normal times but ... but it was pushing you out of your comfort zone. You liked him, his clumsiness made you laugh and moved you a lot. You wanted to know him better. And with a simple smile, Harrison knew he had the green light.

"Would you ... have coffee with me?"

"I'm already taking one with you, idiot" you joked ...

"Yeah..hmm, okay ... um. Would you like to go on a date ... one day?"

Your smile widened. You didn't know if he had chosen his last words intentionally but you liked to think he had. And if it wasn't, that awkwardness had melted your heart. You bit your lip, a smile still on your face. Your cheeks were rosy with emotion. Eventually, you might have had your romantic story at a coffee shop / bookstore.

“Yes, Harrison. I would like to go out with you.

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfeild fluff #harrison osterfield writing #harrison osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield

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shih-coulda-had-it · 4 years

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Just i m a g i n e ; Nana and Gran Torino know the friends / almost boyfriends of Toshi and Torino was like; "go away of that blond idiot or I'm going to hit them without mercy" while Nana is; "Sora, let them, are childrens. But if they hurt m’lil Toshi, I'll also hit them without mercy :) ". The boys, (Dave, Sir, Tsukauchi and Aizawa), are scared of the threats of Toshi's parents and he does not realize that his parents have threatened his almost boyfriends. I think that would happen 👀.

Oh, I like where your head’s at. This is technically the beginning of either a recurring arc/a long one-shot in the NanaLives!AU that’s been building as tumblr snippets.

*Note: Sorahiko did not join Nana and Toshinori in the States for several months. He was cleaning up their tracks/records. On a last-second impulse, he asks the Commission to retrieve Kotarou. Kotarou’s reunion is a whole drama of its own, but the end-result is that Kotarou (1) gets therapy (2) gets a whole year off school! (3) gets a whole family!!!

Neither Nana nor Sorahiko are blindsided by the first boy Toshinori brings home. They’re trying not to invalidate All Might’s work by playing chaperone, but they do pay attention to the news. And the news is captivated by the presence of an exceptionally handsome young foreigner popping up to take care of problems.

Problems like the explosion at the local college laboratory.

“Okaa-san,” says Kotarou, enraptured by disaster, “Toshi-nii’s shirt got burned off.”

“He doesn’t know he’s got a camera trained on him,” observes Nana.

“Figures,” Sorahiko says darkly. He’s sitting at the couch, financial paperwork spread out on the coffee table. Kotarou is cross-legged, ostensibly keeping Sorahiko company and doing his English handwriting exercises. Nana had been busy with laundry, but she poked her head in at the first excited cry. “All this work to stay under the radar, and the brat immediately gets trapped in the spotlight.”

“No one will recognize him.” Goodness knows Nana hadn’t, the first time Toshinori tapped into One for All and puffed up.

“Who’s he talking to?”

“He’s talking to somebody?” Sorahiko’s head snaps up at Kotarou’s innocent inquiry, and Nana doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s studying the grainy screen, eyes narrowed in calculation.

“He looks nice,” she tries. The two boys on-screen are laughing together, bright-eyed and grinning. Toshinori’s new friend is totally staring at Toshinori’s chest.

“Looks like a sycophant,” he growls.

She rolls her eyes. “Toshinori just saved him from a burning building. Gratitude and admiration, along with some heart-eyes, aren’t out of the norm.”

“Hn.”

“What’s a sycophant,” Kotarou says, twisting around when the camera finally cuts away to a pair of commentators. He peers at Sorahiko’s papers like he can understand not only English, but also Sorahiko’s chicken-scratch handwriting.

Long-sufferingly, Sorahiko answers, “A sycophant is a person who always says yes to another person.”

“Oh.” Kotarou dwells on this. “Like you with okaa-san.”

There’s a beat of silence. The first giggle escapes Nana’s valiant grasp, and then she’s leaning on the wall, overtaken by them. Kotarou looks pleased; Sorahiko starts to sputter and defend himself.

Several hours later, Toshinori’s boisterous voice announces, “I’m home!”

“Welcome back,” Nana calls out from the kitchen. Over the course of a few months, her cooking repertoire has expanded to include boxed yellow curry. It bubbles ominously in the deep pan, set over a low heat. “Watch out in the living room, I think Sorahiko’s still napping with Kotarou.”

“Ah.” Nana hears a murmur. Then the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Involuntarily, she tenses and activates Float, her world narrowing down to the question: who is that. Her hands curl into fists, scarred and white-knuckled. She navigates the hallway to the front door and checks the mirror--oh.

Float deactivates. Nana briskly re-ties her hair, shakes out the adrenaline still thrumming in her hands, and steps out into the open with a smile.

“Who’s this?” she asks pleasantly.

Toshinori hasn’t stopped using One for All, but he’s picked up a white “I <3 LA” shirt. While he can stay puffed up for as long as he wants, there’s an unspoken rule to leave All Might in the streets. Thankfully, Nana thinks, Kotarou understands the secrecy regarding Toshinori’s Quirk.

The reason why Toshinori is still All Might finishes toeing off his sneakers. He’s tall, slender, and perceptibly nervous. When he executes a short bow, his shoulder-length hair moves with him.

“Hello,” Toshinori’s friend (boyfriend? Nana wonders, a little alarmed at the thought, because Toshinori can only have known him for four hours, max, and now Toshinori has brought him here, perhaps to meet the family) says in awkward Japanese. “I am David Shield. It is nice to meet you.”

“I understand English,” she says, not unkindly. “Your accent is very good, though.”

Shield exhales in relief. “I wanted to try,” he says, sheepish. “I’ve taken classes, but it’s just--difficult.”

“You need a willing language partner,” Nana agrees. “Call me Shimura-san, David. Are you here for dinner?”

“If it’s no problem.”

“Oshishou,” says Toshinori happily, “Dave’s offered to build me a sturdier suit! I thought the least we could do is dinner, right?”

Then, Kotarou comes barreling down the hallway, only to come to a reeling halt at the sight of someone new. He ducks back behind Nana’s legs, wary of strangers. She reaches back to ruffle his hair, and notes that David looks similarly taken aback.

Dave, however, is apparently going to tailor a new suit for Toshinori. Nana studies the young man and his fine-boned hands--an engineer? a researcher?--and decides that she needs Sorahiko to take a second look.

“This is Kotarou, my son.” Nana smiles reassuringly. “And of course. A friend of Toshinori’s is always welcome. Take your time, boys. It’s chicken curry tonight.”

She retreats back to the kitchen, Kotarou in tow.

“Are you fixing my cooking?” she gasps, catching Sorahiko in the midst of seasoning the pan’s contents. He doesn’t even flinch, and tosses in another pinch of black pepper.

“Little bland. Overall, tastes like the box promised. Good job on not burning it.”

Nana scowls. “This is because we teased him this afternoon,” she tells Kotarou, and Kotarou finally unclenches his fingers from her sweatpants and laughs. She bops his nose with her finger, and informs Sorahiko, “Remember the boy Toshinori saved? He’s here for dinner, and his name is David Shield.”

“What,” says Sorahiko.

“He’s, hmm, offered to make Toshinori a suit, and Toshinori thought he should pay the favor back with dinner.”

“I don’t understand English yet,” Kotarou complains.

“There’s that too,” she adds, but comforts Kotarou with, “I’m sure he’ll understand Japanese if you speak slowly, Kota.”

Footsteps on the staircase. They’re both heavy-footed, Nana distantly registers, and they’re headed for Toshinori’s bedroom. Which is normal for friends to do. Heck, she and Sorahiko used to have sleepovers together. This is fine.

Toshinori has known Dave for, at most, four hours.

Sorahiko sets the ladle to the side. He appears to be tracking a similar line of thought, because he says, slowly, “You know, when Toshinori came out to us as bisexual last week, I didn’t think…”

“He didn’t have anyone in high school,” Nana points out. “If there’s any place to explore romance without consequence, it’s halfway across the world.” She grimaces. “Also, let’s not jump to conclusions. We shouldn’t assume everyone Toshinori brings home is a potential partner.”

“He doesn’t bring people home,” Sorahiko stresses.

“Before, Toshinori wasn’t able to.”

Kotarou’s eyes flick back and forth between them. Incredulously, he asks, “Toshi-nii has no friends?”

They wince. Toshinori has friends the way someone builds a rolodex; many people extend their friendship, and Toshinori accepts, stores their information (name; Quirk; details about family, likes, dislikes) away in his encyclopedic brain, and never pursues a follow-up. It isn’t something they taught him, but it’s not a habit they’ve tried breaking either.

“He has friends,” says Nana. “So, best behavior, okay?”

Sorahiko grimaces. He bobs his head, but Nana assumes he’ll ask pointed questions during dinner anyway. Depending on how good a mood Toshinori is in, maybe their charge will let the interrogation slide. If not, well, Toshinori knows how grouchy Sorahiko can be.

“Okay,” Kotarou replies, oblivious to the byplay. “When’s dinner?”

“Soon,” Sorahiko promises.

(There is a long stretch of time between David Shield and Sasaki Mirai. In the span of this time, Kotarou has grown up and gotten married and had two children. Nana and Sorahiko have officially tied the knot, and they are in the midst of renovating a small apartment complex in Yamanashi Prefecture. Following Sasaki is Tsukauchi Naomasa. Then Toshinori brings home Aizawa Shouta.

“He’s like you,” Nana mourns to Sorahiko, after cheerfully seeing Aizawa off. Toshinori is walking with him to the train station; it’s fifty-fifty on whether Toshinori will spend the night in his own apartment, or in Aizawa’s bed.

“How’s that,” Sorahiko grunts, locking the front door. They trail their way to bed.

“His kids will be his students.”

He glances at her. “Kotarou wasn’t my student.”

“He learned a lot from you anyway,” Nana promptly responds, and he snorts. She’s undeterred. “Anyway, I can only assume he’ll bond with every class, and act as their collective dad. Tons and tons of encouragement, complete with rigorous physical training.” She sighs as she pushes their bedroom door open. “All those extended grandchildren we may never get to meet…”

“Be glad,” Sorahiko suggests. “I can only imagine Toshinori fathering a child with even crazier dreams, and we’ve finally reached a point in our lives where we don’t have to deal with that shit.”

“You’ve jinxed it.”

“I’ve jinxed nothing.”

Four months later, when they are watching the Sports Festival live on television, staring at a fluffy green-haired boy shout ‘Smash’ battle-cries and perform therapy so bad (so well? The result may have been the goal), he’s knocked clear out of the tournament--

“I jinxed it,” says Sorahiko in disbelief, as Nana cackles and starts texting Toshinori to bring home Midoriya Izuku.)

#bnha #shimura nana #torino sorahiko #gran torino #yagi toshinori #all might #shimura kotarou #david shield #nanahiko #shih.txt #ostensibly: davemight #i need like three thousand more words to cover the rest #but i wanted to answer this ask so bad #asks #sxftcxts-uwu

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years

Text

Dashing Rose: A Finding You Always Vignette

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Summary:

A Finding You Always Vignette. Once Upon a Time, in another Enchanted Forest, Princess Rose Red was the fairest of them all, but under the thumb of her evil Uncle. Her life changed the moment a portal opened up, depositing a wounded warrior from Asgard. Once healed, Fandral of Asgard meets Rose Red and true love is born. But the evil King stands in their way. Snowing parallel.

Dashing Rose: A Finding You Always Vignette

Chapter 1: Rose Red and Fandral of Asgard

"Grams...Gramps...guess what I found?" Henry called, as he came running up to them excitedly.

"Whoa kid...take a breath," David teased, as he saw Neal chasing him.

"No kidding...not everything is a race, kid," Neal agreed, as he finally caught up.

"You're just slow," Henry quipped, earning a withering glance from him, as David snickered.

"What did you find Henry?" Snow asked.

"More books...like mine, only these have stories from the Land of Untold Stories I think," Henry said. Snow took the book and started leafing through it, as Jekyll took notice.

"Yes...these are stories from the Land of Untold Stories," Jekyll confirmed.

"It would make sense I guess, if what that goon said is anything to go by. Those people are here now," Neal mentioned.

"And they have unfinished stories, so a book appearing to the Author does make sense," David agreed.

"I think I'm supposed to finish the stories," Henry said.

"Whoa kid...back up. Let's be careful. Hyde also said that these people don't want their stories finished. I don't want anything putting you in danger," Neal replied.

"He's right Henry," Snow and David agreed, as she continued to leaf through the book.

"Is your story in here, Dr. Jekyll?" Henry asked curiously.

"Oh...mine? Perhaps so...though you have nothing to fear from me, lad. My story is finished, I believe," he said, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

"Look...the one about Rose Red is here. I thought you said she wasn't in the Land of Untold Stories anymore?" Snow questioned.

"She's...she's not…" he said, seemingly leary all the sudden.

"Maybe it's in there because she was in that land for a while," Neal deduced.

"Maybe hers is one that's actually finished," Henry agreed. Snow nodded.

"I'd like to know for sure...can I hang onto this for a little while, Henry?" she asked. The boy shrugged.

"Sure Grams," he replied.

"Oh...there isn't much more to Rose's story than what I told you," Jekyll said nervously.

"Oh, I don't know...there has to be. I mean, I know the story of how Charming and I met is quite a story. It only makes sense that Rose has a story too. I'd like to know how she met her Charming," Snow replied curiously, as she looked at her husband. She intended to read and learn all about Rose Red, her counterpart from another land, and how she met her true love…

Once Upon a Time, there lived a Princess, beloved by all in her Kingdom. She had been born to the King and Queen, who struggled to have a baby, on a summer eve. It was said upon her birth that every rose, despite no sunlight, bloomed in the palace gardens in the twilight as the Princess drew her first breath. For this reason, the Queen called her Rose Red and it was deemed she would one day be the fairest in all the land, for she would have hair black as ebony, skin fair as snow, and lips red as a rose.

Unfortunately, tragedy struck the Princess at a young age when her parents were killed and her evil Uncle assumed the Throne since she was too young to become Queen at the time. Her Uncle John was determined to never let the Princess usurp him and claim her rightful place and thus sent her away into seclusion with a dwarf as her caretaker, who was in his employ.

The dwarf was unkind to Rose Red and raised her to serve him and slave over his care. But Rose was a free spirit and befriended all the animals she came in contact with. She knew of her heritage, but was humble and was not bitter about what her Uncle had done. Things were not good in her Kingdom though, for her Uncle had bankrupt the Royal coffers and the people were suffering. But Rose was at a loss to what she could do, for the evil dwarf that had enslaved her kept her under his thumb.

But one day, her life changed completely when she found a badly injured stranger that seemingly dropped into her garden out of nowhere. She could not know at that moment that true love would blossom and free her and her Kingdom.

The last thing he remembered was being stabbed by the sword of a woman that looked like she had ascended from hell itself and then nothing. He was sure he was dead at that point and would soon be welcomed into the afterlife. Valhalla awaited or so he thought and though his pain was too great to open his eyes, he felt himself being vaulted around almost violently in somewhat of a volatile river, until he was pulled into something bright. Valhalla...he was sure, but the pain remained and that confused him, until he opened his eyes to find the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his considerable fourteen hundred years. This was Valhalla and she had to be an angel…

"Your Majesty...there is a Lord from a far off land here to meet with you," Sir Hiss, his adviser, announced to the evil King John.

"What does he want?" the King asked skeptically.

"He has heard of our Princess. He is looking for a bride and insists that only the fairest and most beautiful will do. He is prepared to pay handsomely for her hand," Hiss replied. The King could already taste the gold and motioned to his adviser.

"Please...invite this Lord in immediately," he requested.

Rose Red hummed to herself idly, as she tended to the flowers in the garden. Birds and small woodland creatures alike scurried around her, per normal, and she enjoyed the feeling of the sun upon her. Life living under her evil Uncle was not always good, but she always tried to find the good in everything and was grateful her Uncle allowed her out into the gardens everyday. As part of her chores, he demanded that the garden be tended to as well and that was a task that was no chore to her.

She heard a strange whooshing sound at that moment and then a thud. She looked around and gasped, as she saw the injured man, who had seemingly dropped out of the sky. She had heard of such occurrences though; portals from other places and wondered if this man had come from such. As she got closer, she noticed how serious his wound was and called for the dwarf that lorded over her.

"He might as well be dead already. What do you want me to do about it?" he snapped at the girl.

"No...he's alive! He still draws breath, however faintly. You must heal him with your magic!" she pleaded.

"Oh...and just why would I do that? He has done nothing for me," the dwarf griped.

"Please...I will owe you the favor!" she begged. And the evil dwarf smirked deviously. He had just received word that there was a very rich Lord that wished to have Rose Red's hand in marriage. Just the riches a deal like that could barter him was too tempting and having her owe him ensured that he would benefit greatly.

"Fine stupid girl...I'll save this stranger and then you shall repay me with whatever favor I desire," he growled, as he used his magic and healed the handsome stranger's wound.

As the man opened his eyes, Rose was captivated by the bluest eyes she had ever seen. The stranger saw the beautiful woman kneeling over him and was also captivated by her beauty.

"Where...where am I?" he asked.

"You are in my garden...you were gravely injured. I bartered a favor from this dwarf to heal your wound," she replied. His brow furrowed.

"But you don't even know me? Why would help me?" he asked in awe. She looked down shyly.

"I could not let you die…" she said, as he sat up and their hands brushed, as electricity passed between them.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Rose Red…" she answered.

"I am Fandral of Asgard...or at least I was," he introduced himself, as he stood up and towered over her.

"Was?" she asked.

"I'm afraid Asgard is gone...I was fatally wounded in an apocalyptic battle or so I thought," he replied.

"You must have fallen through a portal as your world collapsed. I've read of such things," she surmised.

"And then you saved my life," he added.

"It seemed like the honorable thing to do," she said, as they stared at each other.

"You're alive...now you'll kindly leave my castle. And you girl...get back to your chores and cook my dinner!" the dwarf snapped.

"He has nowhere to go...I'll show you to a room. There are many empty ones here," she said.

"You'll do no such thing!" the dwarf growled, as he grabbed her arm, yanked her away, and then his hand struck her face. That made Fandral practically see red and he drew his sword.

"You will take your hands off her, dwarf!" Fandral growled.

"It was my magic that saved you...she owes me everything and she will know her place," the dwarf growled back.

"I will be grateful that you saved my life, but nothing will allow me to let you strike her again!" Fandral hissed, as he and the dwarf stared each other down.

"Fine...stay in the palace for all I care," the dwarf spat, as he stalked back inside.

"It won't matter when we marry her off for all the riches in the Kingdom anyway," he grumbled underneath his breath.

"It's you who have saved me this time," Rose said breathlessly, as they stared at each other again.

"It seemed like the honorable thing to do," he replied. She looked down shyly.

"I will show you to a room and then I must prepare the evening meal for my Uncle and the dwarf," she said.

"May I ask you something?" Fandral said.

"Of course," she replied.

"You are not treated well here. Why do you stay?" he asked. She looked at him and then looked away shyly. He was so handsome. She'd never met one so kind and handsome.

"This was my parent's castle. When they died, my Uncle took over and I'm afraid he has led my Kingdom to ruin. My people do not have enough to eat and he has taxed them into poverty," she explained.

"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely.

"I feel responsible. They are my people. How can I leave them? But then I feel even more guilty, for I do not know how to help them. To be honest, the only thing that keeps me here I think is my library," she replied.

"Your library?" he asked curiously. She nodded.

"It has fallen into terrible disarray since my parents died, because I do not get enough time to maintain it. But I still love it. Uncle hates it...but even his dwarf does not have the power to burn an enchanted library," she revealed.

"Enchanted?" he asked. She nodded.

"Would...would you like to see it?" she asked.

"I would. Back in Asgard, our Queen had quite an impressive library too. But not enchanted. What makes yours enchanted?" he asked curiously. She smiled.

"It is protected by the Goddess Hermes and has been in my family's care for generations. It houses stories for all the realms in existence," she announced, as she opened the dusty doors and revealed the massive library.

"By Odin's beard…" he uttered in awe.

"In my fourteen hundred some years, never have I seen anything like this," he said, as he looked around.

"I wish it was in better shape...I just don't get the time I'd like. If I could...I'd spend all day in here," she said.

"Rose Red! Rose Red! Where are you, stupid girl?!" the dwarf shouted. She gasped.

"I must go...if I'm late with my Uncle's evening meal, he'll be terribly angry," she fretted, as she ran off and he watched her go with longing and sadness in his eyes. He had only known her a short time, but the thought of her being mistreated made him ache. And as long as he was here, he was determined not to let that happen.

#Snowing #Snowing parallel #Rose Red #Fandral the Dashing #Fandral of Asgard #A Finding You Always vignette #romance #adventure #Dashing Rose

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nellygwyn · 6 years

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The real women of Georgian era Britain & Ireland that inspired ‘Harlots’ (Part 2)

Georgian Britain and Ireland were full to bursting with brothels and bagnios, with the sex industry being one of 18th century Britain’s most lucrative enterprises. Whilst the women and girls who filled them enraptured the nation, their voices have all too often been lost to history and in favour of their aristocratic counterparts and greater men who sought to hide their own seedy practices. Harris’ List of Covent Garden Ladies, an annual gentlemen’s guide to London’s most enticing women shows us a vast spectrum of women who lived, worked and loved in a world that both caressed and disdained them. They came from all walks of life, and many tasted great success after finding favour with 18th century Britain’s wealthiest and most influential grandees. Others, however, were not so lucky. This post, created in two parts, sheds a light on some of the more prominent of these women, who left their mark on this country in some way, shape or form, and still captivate those of us who are inclined to adore them in the present day. Many of these women inspired the characters that are now so popular and beloved on Hulu’s period drama series ‘Harlots,’ though the truth is always stranger than fiction. Birth/death dates have been given when I have been able to scout out such information, as well as portraits/prints if they exist, and a source list will be given at the end of both posts.

Mary Robinson (1757-1800) - Though Mary was born into a fairly well-off family, her childhood was troubled from the moment her father abandoned his family in favour of a life with his mistress. Mary’s mother educated all her children and Mary showed a promising aptitude for the arts (she had briefly attended a school run by the social reformer, Hannah More, and been noticed by the great 18th century actor, David Garrick) but this all came to a halt when Mary’s mother arranged a marriage between Mary and an articled clerk named Thomas Robinson, who claimed to have a large inheritance. Though Mary resisted, the marriage eventually took place and Mary came to discover that not only was her husband extravagant and unfaithful, but that he had also never had an inheritance in the first place. They found themselves constantly on the run from debt collectors before eventually, Thomas Robinson was thrown into the Fleet Debtors Prison. Mary and her 6-month-old daughter accompanied him and it is here that Mary began to write poetry, both as a way to pay off her husband’s debt and as a way to escape from reality. One of her earliest patrons and supporters in this endeavour was the socialite, Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire, who sponsored her first publication and encouraged Mary to pursue her dreams. It was this encouragement that prompted Mary, upon the release of her husband from the Fleet, to pursue a career in the theatre. She made her debut as Juliet in ‘Romeo and Juliet’ at the Drury Lane Theatre in 1776, and soon became well known for her breeches parts in various Shakespearean plays. Her most famous role was as Perdita in ‘Florimel and Perdita,’ an adaptation of Shakespeare’s ‘A Winter’s Tale.’ It was in this role that she caught the eye of the Prince of Wales (later George IV). He offered her £20,000 to become his mistress but it took Mary a considerable amount of time to decide whether to leave her husband to become a kept mistress or not. In the end, she decided to take the Prince up on his offer and became his first public mistress. However, he ended the affair in 1781 and did not pay out what he had promised. Mary managed to support herself through an annuity promised by the Crown, after she threatened to expose letters from the Prince she had in her possession. Though she had been a short-lived royal mistress, she was now a celebrity who sustained herself through several love affairs with notable men, after she permanently separated from her husband. Although Mary died alone and in relative poverty, she did spend the last years of her life writing in favour of women’s rights and feminist principles, leading her to earn the nickname of ‘the English Sappho.’

Elizabeth Needham (died May 1731) – Though very little is known about Needham’s early life, she became one of Georgian London’s most notorious bawds, praised for the exclusivity of her brothel in St. James (considered superior to even those of Covent Garden) but reviled for her ruthless brothel-keeping practices and methods of procuring girls. If her girls were unable to pay off their debts, she forced them to take on a higher intake of customers or sent them to the debtors’ prison herself, and if any of her girls became too ill or too old, Mother Needham had very few qualms about throwing them out onto the street. Mother Needham procured her girls through various methods: she poached them from other brothels, picked up homeless girls from the ‘bails’ of Covent Garden, deceived girls eating and drinking at Tom King’s Coffee House, or she acquired them from specialised auctions. Her favourite and most ruthless method, however, was to target girls fresh from the country, many without family (at least not in London) and deceived them with the promise of respectable employment. It earned Needham a fearsome reputation but her house was still popular with many of the country’s most important men, who in turn, were the main reason Needham’s house was raided very little (though during one raid, her house was burnt down, leading to the death of a French officer and the arrest of many of Needham’s girls) and she managed to evade arrest and punishment on multiple occasions. However, in 1730, following the trial of the notorious Francis Charteris for the rape of Ann Bond, a reforming Justice of the Peace named Sir John Gonson began to conduct raids on many of London’s brothels. Charteris had been a frequent customer of Needham’s house and Gonson was tipped off by the residences of Park Place that there was a disorderly house in the neighbourhood. Needham was arrested and hauled up before the court, where she was eventually found guilty of keeping a disorderly house, fined one shilling, expected to find sureties for her behaviour for the next three years and, most importantly, expected to stand twice in the pillory. On the 30th April 1731, Needham was brought to the first pillory in Park Place. Her connections meant she was allowed to be face down for the ordeal and was protected by a number of guards, but the crowd that gathered pelted her with such force that it was feared she would die before the punishment was out. The crowd was so large at one point that a young boy was killed by an iron fencing rail after trying to get a better look. Needham was taken from the pillory, alive but weak, and died the day before her second ordeal in the pillory. She had expressed great fear at having to stand in the pillory again before her death. No contemporary portraits of Needham survive but William Hogarth immortalised her in the first panel of ‘A Harlot’s Progress,’ where Needham lures a naïve Moll Hackabout, newly arrived from the country, to her brothel. Hogarth had met Needham once or twice and said that she was handsome even in her middle age, though her face was covered in patches to hide her pockmarks.

Emma Hamilton (also known as Amy Lyon and Emy Hart) (1765-1815)– Emma is now best known as the great muse of George Romney and the mistress of Horatio, Admiral Lord Nelson, but what is less well known is that Emma began her life in relative poverty, working her way up the ranks through various forms of domestic service and sex work. Born Amy Lyon in a village near Cheshire, Emma was raised by her single mother and her grandmother for the first years of her life. At a young age, she worked as a maid at the home of Doctor Honoratus Leigh, a surgeon working in Chester but who resided in Hawarden, Wales. After Emma was dismissed in 1777, she took a stage coach to London and took a domestic service job for the Budd family in Chatham Place. Here, she befriended a maid named Jane Powell who was also an aspiring actress. Jane let Emma accompany her to her rehearsals for various tragic roles, and Emma’s pretty face and joyful disposition was soon noticed and she was offered a job at Drury Lane Theatre as a dresser and maid to the actresses, one of whom included Mary Robinson. Emma’s next jobs included a posture girl at the Rose Tavern and as a model and dancer at the so-called ‘Temple of Health,’ run by a Scottish quack doctor who offered unconventional, mainly useless forms of treatment for aiding conception. It was around this time that Emma met Sir Harry Featherstonehaugh. Emma was fifteen and beautiful, and Sir Harry was captivated by her. He hired her to play hostess, entertainer and mistress at his estate in the South Downs. She apparently entertained Sir Harry’s guests by dancing naked on a table for them, but soon, Sir. Harry tired of his beautiful, new mistress and threw her over in favour of drinking and hunting with his friends. Emma became friendly with one of Sir. Harry’s guests, the boring but mirthful Charles Greville. When Emma conceived a child with Sir. Harry in 1781 and found herself abandoned by her old lover, it was Greville she chose to turn to. He promised to take her as his mistress and keep her in good style on the condition that she be his and his alone, and that the child be fostered by someone else (her daughter, Emma Carew, would see her often in the future, but for now, she was sent to a schoolmaster and his wife in Manchester). Greville moved Emma into a small house in Edgware Row, where he encouraged Emma to change her name from ‘Amy Lyon’ to ‘Emma/Emy Hart,’ and expected her to dress modestly and keep a quiet social life. Greville gave Emma elocution lessons and occasionally let his friends meet her. It was a rather stifling existence for Emma, as Greville was jealous and controlling, but also embarrassed to be too associated with a woman of such low birth and minor connection. At some point, Greville teamed up with the fashionable artist, George Romney, charging him with taking Emma’s portrait and hoping to make some money from them. Emma quickly became Romney’s muse, and he produced countless pictures of her, all beautiful and expressive, in the 1780s and 90s. Even well after Emma stopped visiting his workshop, Romney sketched her from memory and it is said that he was driven to his grave mad with love for her. In the meantime, though, Greville’s embarrassment of Emma began to grow, and when it became apparent that he would have to find a respectable wife, he decided to smoothly cast Emma off onto his uncle, Sir William Hamilton. Hamilton was quite a bit older than Emma and obsessed with antiques and collecting curious objects, and collecting Emma for his own keeping was no exception. Greville sent Emma to Naples, where Hamilton was the ambassador to the King and Queen of Naples, with the promise that he would join her there soon. Emma began to realise Greville had no intention to claim her but found she enjoyed life in Naples, and by this point, Sir William was falling deeply in love with her. In a bold move, he married Emma in 1791, and they settled in Naples, where Emma (now Emma, Lady Hamilton) would not only wow the Neapolitan court with her famous ‘Attitudes’ (tableaux vivant), but strike up a close friendship with the Neapolitan Queen, Maria Carolina (Marie Antoinette’s sister) and ultimately meet Admiral Horatio Nelson, the great love of her life.

Frances ‘Fanny’ Abington (1737-1815) – Although most famous for her career on the stage of Drury Lane theatre, Fanny Abington (born Frances Barton), had very humble beginnings. As a young girl, she had to support her family and thus, she was a flower girl and a street singer as well as a prostitute. During this period of her life, Fanny showed a great aptitude for theatrics, often performing long Shakespearean monologues, even when she was as young as 12, in taverns to impress gentlemen. She became a servant to a French milliner (a profession that so often went hand in hand with prostitution in this period) which taught her about fashion and French language and manners, virtues that would have her in good stead in the future. Fanny first appeared on the stage of Haymarket Theatre when she was 18, in 1755, as Miranda in Susanna Centlivre’s play ‘Busybody.’ She joined the company at Drury Lane on the recommendation of the greatly admired actor, Samuel Foote. At first, Fanny was overshadowed by older, more established actresses and had to endure an unhappy marriage to her music teacher, James Abington. Her big break was as Lady Teazle in Sheridan’s ‘School for Scandal’; her success in the part won over the hearts of audiences and critics alike, who adored her for her wit and beauty and natural ability in comedic roles. Her nickname of ‘Nosegay Fan,’ acquired when she was a flower girl as a child, carried over into her adult life, and she also became an influencer of fashion through the outfits she chose to wear on the stage and when out in public. She had sporadic appearances on the stage from the mid 1780s to the early 1790s but officially retired in 1799, considered by contemporaries as one of the great comic actresses of the age.

Mary ‘Hellfire’ Davis (1742-1825) – Contemporaries wrote that Mary had been born ‘in a wheelbarrow’ in Covent Garden and this may be reflective of how humble Mary’s background and birth was. She entered the leagues as a beauty when she became a model for Sir Joshua Reynolds; this placement set her on her career as a courtesan. Her first major connection was with Simon Luttrell, Earl of Carhampton, an Irish aristocrat, nicknamed ‘the King of Hell’ for his rakish behaviour. It was through Luttrell that Mary earned the nickname of ‘Hellfire Davis.’ Luttrell introduced her to the son of a merchant banker, Alexander Nesbitt, and the pair married in 1768. Nesbitt settled his estate of Upper Norwood in Surrey on Mary for life. By 1772, Alexander was dead, after suffering from an isolating mental collapse from around 1769. The press hounded Mary, alleging that Alexander’s mental state and eventual death was due to Mary’s disrespectful treatment of him and unnatural behaviour as a wife. Mary continued her career as a courtesan, associating herself in particular with the Hon. Augustus John Hervey, with whom Mary lived in the late 1770s. She received the estate of Evedon on Hervey’s death, as well as a hefty amount of money and land. Her financial stability meant that Mary was at liberty to begin her own salon, where she entertained many Enlightenment thinkers and involved herself deeply within counter-revolutionary movements following the outbreak of the French Revolution.

Moll King (1696 – 1747) – Born Elizabeth Adkins, Moll went by several aliases but her most enduring was that of Moll King. Moll was exposed to London’s underworld from childhood, starting her career as a sex worker as a preteen and becoming involved with Jonathan Wilde (both an informant to the law-force and a gang-leader & criminal) who taught her to pick-pocket. She also married Thomas ‘Tom’ King as a young woman and became friendly with London’s most famous courtesan at the time, Sally Salisbury. In 1718, Moll was arrested for stealing a gold pocket watch and was sentenced to transportation to the Americas. When Moll was discovered trying to re-enter the United Kingdom, she was sentenced to death and only evaded this punishment through her connection to Jonathan Wilde. After returning to England permanently, Moll returned to her husband and opened up a stall in Covent Garden, selling nuts and other street foods. The stall grew and soon, the Kings’ small venture grew into King’s Coffeehouse. This was one of the most popular coffeehouses and taverns in London, frequented by members from all echelons of society. Bawds and procuresses like Mother Needham used the coffeehouse to scout out potential new girls to fill their brothels, and gentlemen used it as a meeting place between their friends and paramours. Moll continued her theft and other underhand activities alongside Jonathan Wilde and she faced arrest, imprisonment and the threat of transportation several times before passing away in 1747. She had at that point, amassed enough money to pay for her son’s education at Eton school.

Teresa Constantia Phillips (known as Con Phillips) (1709-1765) - Con was born to a Captain in the English army, who fell into poverty very early on in Con’s life. At age 13, her godmother, the Duchess of Bolton, funded Con’s education at Miss Filler’s Boarding School in Westminster but when Con’s father married one of his servants, Con’s new step-mother cut off most of Con’s funding for her education and living. Con tried to earn a living as a seamstress and soon attracted the attention of the young Phillip Stanhope, 4thEarl of Chesterfield, who became enraptured by her and may have been the man who raped her at this time under the alias ‘Thomas Grimes,’ though there is speculation that Con’s rapist may also have been the Earl of Scarborough. Con herself believed that her rapist was most probably Stanhope (she seems to not have been 100% sure), claiming that Stanhope had a fascination with adolescent girls and virgins and had tied her to a chair and locked her in his rooms before raping her. This was a traumatic start to her career but soon after this ordeal, Con entered the leagues as a courtesan, allying herself with rich and influential men. In 1722, she married a man who eventually revealed he already had a wife but this bothered Con very little. Over the following years, she herself would marry several of the men she came into contact with, becoming a serial bigamist, and she was kept by many other influential gentlemen on top of these marriages. In 1732, Con had broken with one of her long-term keepers and was finding it hard to re-establish herself as a courtesan so instead decided to open a shop called The Green Canister on Half Moon Street (now Bedford Street in Covent Garden) specialising in condoms, sex toys, pornography and other sex related items. Her shop was particularly popular with women, and became infamous for its ‘flagellation machines.’ In the 1740s, Con wrote her scandalous memoirs, popular but widely criticised (interestingly, these memoirs also included a fan letter from Con to the castrato singer, Farinelli). By the 1750s, Con had settled in Jamaica with her lover but after his death, it is thought that she contracted at least three other marriages before passing away herself in Kingston, Jamaica, in 1765.

Sarah ‘Sally’ Lodge (died in 1735) – Sally’s parents died when she was very young and so she was placed into the care of a vicar who in turn placed her in domestic service, but Sally was eventually dismissed for petty theft. The vicar then had her apprenticed to a dressmaker for five years but according to Sally, she was mistreated by her employer and consequently, she ran away at age 14, working for a short while as a prostitute before starting her own brothel in the parish of St Martin-in-the-Fields in London. Sally’s brothel was incredibly successful, mainly due to the number of influential visitors from the Court. Her establishment was praised by the poet, Alexander Pope, as well as the dramatist John Gay. Unfortunately, according to sources, Sally lost all her money after she was swindled by an Irish confidence trickster and was unable to re-establish herself as either a prostitute or madam due to her age. She traversed several paths in an attempt to regain her footing but ultimately failed and ended her life as a barmaid at the Whale Public House in Wapping, serving brandy and rum to the sailors.

Ann Duck (baptised in 1717– 1744) – Ann Duck was born to a black father (a teacher of swordsmanship) and a white mother in Surrey. By the time she was in her early 20s, she was already a respected member of the criminal gang ‘the Black Boy Alley Gang’ who operated around Clerkenwell in London. Ann was particularly skilled at petty theft as well as highway robbery and also subsidised the money she gained from her criminal activities with sex work. Though she was hauled up before the Justice several times prior to 1744, it appears that many were afraid to punish her because of the men she associated with and who were on her side. She was arrested 19 times before, in 1744, being sentenced to death by hanging at Tyburn after being found guilty of petty theft of five shillings and sixpence, though the fairness of Ann’s trial in this case is debated.

Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Armistead (1750-1842) - By her own admission, Elizabeth Armistead was born Elizabeth Cane on July 11, 1750 in humble conditions. Other than that, the details of early life are vague. Various publications said she was the daughter of a herb-vendor in Greenwich, whereas others claimed she was actually born to a shoemaker, a Methodist preacher, or market porter. She most certainly moved to the centre of London as a model for a hairdresser. She may briefly have worked as a dresser and maid to several of London’s finest actresses at Drury Lane Theatre, too. And at some point, Elizabeth’s charms caught the eye of one of London’s leading madams. According to a notation in Sir Joshua Reynolds notebook from 1771, he visited one Mrs Armistead (the name Elizabeth Cane had now started using for herself) at the brothel of Elizabeth Mitchell. Liz Armistead was charming and pretty. Her laid-back, cheery nature made her popular with men, particularly important and elite men from society’s uppermost echelons. Her first real keeper was Viscount Bolingbroke. Bolingbroke’s friends teased him about his affection for “the Armistead,” especially following several of them bursting in on an intimate moment between Elizabeth and Bolingbroke. This match cemented Elizabeth as a leading light in London’s bawdy firmament. At one point, Bolingbroke arranged for Elizabeth to try her hand at acting. Critics weren’t that impressed with her ability but they did praise her beauty, her singing voice, the way her figure filled her costume, and her smile. After a string of Dukes, rakes and new money, Elizabeth attracted the interest of George, Prince of Wales (latterly, the Prince Regent and King George IV). He made arrangements with his page to pay his addresses to beautiful Elizabeth and their first meeting was in an inn near Bushy Park. The newspapers were in their element after learning of this affair: the Prince had just broken off a passionate affair with the actress, Mary Robinson, and since both she and Elizabeth Armistead were celebrities, the press revelled in pitting the two women against each other in a bitter rivalry for the Prince’s affections. Mary Robinson was in luck, however, as newspaper rumours suggesting Elizabeth Armistead was a “mattress-vote” (a.k.a. trying to influence the Prince with her deep Whig sympathies) lead to the Prince leaving Elizabeth for his new flame, Grace Dalrymple. Elizabeth attempted to re-kindle the affair but to no avail. To avoid offending the future king, she arranged to take a Continental Tour with several of her noble lovers, but not before purchasing a small country estate in Surrey with the help of the Duke of Marlborough’s brother. When she returned from the continent, something had changed for Elizabeth. She had always been a staunch Whig and many of her friends and lovers were members or supporters of the party. One of her long-time friends was the unkempt, uncouth Whig leader and firebrand, Charles James Fox. Their relationship had never been romantic, nor even sexual but by 1783, the pair had settled down into a monogamous, loving relationship. In 1795, Fox and Armistead secretly married and spent their time most of their time either entertaining or gardening, which contrasts greatly with the chaos of their earlier lives. Fox came clean about his marriage in 1802 when he wished Elizabeth to be by his side, as his wife, when he was honoured by Napoleon. In 1806, Fox died of dropsy; reportedly, his last words were “Dearest Liz.” Elizabeth outlived Fox by almost four decades. She continued to live out her life as a respected politician’s widow, being paid a yearly stipend of £500 by King George IV for her earlier services to him (a payment that was later continued by George’s brother, William IV, and his niece, Queen Victoria). Elizabeth died at the age of 91/92 in 1842, very old but not miserable. Her lasting epitaph perhaps comes from Charles James Fox himself who wrote to his nephew following their secret wedding: I think my affection for her increases every day. She is a comfort to me in every misfortune and makes me enjoy doubly every pleasant circumstance of life. There is to me a charm and delight in her society which time does not in the least wear off and a real goodness of heart. If she ever had an equal, she certainly never had a superior.

Grace Dalrymple Elliott (1754-1823) - Grace was born in Scotland in 1754, and soon after her parents’ separation, was sent to be educated at a convent in France until she was 16 years old. By the time she had moved back to England, she was already touted as a beauty, her features said to be striking and unique. This meant that she soon attracted the attention of the Scottish baronet and physician, Sir John Eliot, who eventually married the 17 year old Grace in 1771 (John was 18 years her senior). Grace enjoyed the lifestyle that came with marrying a man so well-respected in society but did not much enjoy married life and had soon begun an affair with one Lord Valentia. When her husband discovered the affair, he sued Lord Valentia for criminal conversation and is said to have been rewarded almost £12,000 as compensation. He divorced Grace, freeing her from the marriage, but now that Grace’s reputation was ruined, she would have to rely on the patronage of wealthy men who would seek her out for her beauty and witty company in return for stability and standing. After briefly fleeing to another French convent, Grace made a return to England in 1776 alongside Lord Cholmondeley, a known rake and philanderer, and this set her up in the leagues as a desirable mistress and companion. Her connection with Cholmondeley threw Grace into the notice of the Prince of Wales (latterly George IV), who is said to have been captivated by her portraits first and foremost. Grace was only very briefly a royal mistress but the affair produced a child in 1782, one Georgina Seymour. Grace insisted the child was the Prince’s (though rumours also speculated that the daughter may have been George Selwyn’s child, or Charles William Wyndham’s) but the Prince claimed that the baby’s skin was too dark to be his and the daughter was put into the care of Lord Cholmondeley. Just as Grace’s connection to Cholmondeley had introduced her to the Prince of Wales, now her relationship with the Prince of Wales brought her to the attention of the Duke of Orleans, who was, like many of Grace’s other flames, a well-known rake. Grace became one of his most established and recognised mistresses and the Duke granted her a permanent residence in Paris in 1786, as well as giving her several other properties. Although the Duke of Orleans was her main keeper, Grace continued to have affairs with members of the European aristocracy during her time in France. Grace would come to witness the outbreak of the French Revolution, being an eyewitness to the September Massacres and it is probable that Grace acted as a spy for the English, as well as risking her life to hide aristocrats from the Revolutionary government and arranging false travel documents for them to escape. Grace herself was arrested in 1793, and after the death of her former lover, the Duke of Orelans, she believed herself doomed too. However, the Revolutionary government spared her and she was released, allowed to live out the rest of her life in Paris before dying a wealthy, elderly woman.

Jane Douglas (circa. 1700 – 1761) - In her time, Jane Douglas was known as the ‘Empress of the Bawds’ and her house in Covent Garden attracted many gentlemen from the highest echelons of society. Little is known of her early life, save for her birth in Scotland between 1698-1700, and the fact that by the time she was 17, Jane was already a sex worker in St. James in London. Her connection to many rich men and women meant that she was able to purchase her own house in St. James and begin procuring her own girls, choosing them based on their elegant manners and aptitude for sex. By 1735, she had moved to Covent Garden, her first property being close to the theatres (and Douglas often pimped out poorer actresses who subsidised their profession with sex work) and thus becoming immensely popular. Douglas furnished the house in the utmost style and hired liveried servants to wait on clients. In 1741, Douglas moved again, this to the opposite end of the main piazza of Covent Garden and made similar, elegant improvements to her property, installing it with the finest furniture and amenities so as to attract peers of the realm and men of high rank. Her prices were high but gentlemen paid for the surroundings as well as the girls, and were provided with condoms in a silk bag and cures for syphilis. For the most part, Douglas’ connection to influential men meant she usually avoided arrest and punishment but she did occasionally fall out with the Society for the Reformation of Manners, and with Sir John Gonson’s anti-vice patrols. She usually escaped with a fine only or used bribery to escape punishment completely, but Douglas did have to spend time in prison once or twice.

Elizabeth ‘Edgeworth Bess’ Lyon – Bess is best known as the mistress and beloved of Jack Sheppard, one of the most notorious criminals in early Georgian London and the young man who gave his name to the popular saying ‘Jack the Lad.’ She was not only his lover, but his partner in crime, but what little we know about her is gleaned from the criminal records of Sheppard’s trial and from the contemporary media who blamed Bess almost entirely for the fate and lifestyle of her beau (even Jack himself, in his confession, would argue that he had been corrupted by Bess, due to her position in life as a sex worker). Bess is described by contemporaries as a ‘large, masculine woman’ with a fondness for drink. A relatively poor prostitute in Georgian London, by the time she had established a strong relationship with Jack Shepherd, they were working together in London’s underworld. Bess convinced Jack to live with her as her husband and their thefts became more and more ambitious. They were first caught by the law after the pair stole a pocket watch from a gentleman in Leicester Fields: Jack was arrested but Bess managed to avoid capture, until she visited Jack in prison the next day and was herself implicated. Remarkably, they both managed to escape prison, after Sheppard used a file to saw off his and Bess’ fetters, cut an iron bar out of the window and descend 25 feet down the walls of the prison by fastening a blanket to the remaining iron bars and lowering Bess and himself down to the ground. They returned to their life of criminality in the Georgian underworld and Jack was arrested another four times, escaping each time with Bess’ help. After his final arrested in 1724, after a large stealing spree in Drury Lane, Jack was sentenced to hang at Tyburn. He lay a lot of the blame for his life of crime at the door of Bess, who he confessed had led him to his life of vice and encouraged him to steal gifts for her. Jack was only 22 when he was hanged, a hero with the poor and entering folk legend but Bess was not so lucky; Jack’s confession was damning to her. It is not known whether she attended the execution of her lover or what happened to her after 1724.

Dorothea ‘Dora’ Jordan (1761 – 1816) – Born Dorothea Bland (she would later change her last name to ‘Jordan’ to liken her crossing from Ireland to England to crossing the River Jordan) in Waterford, Ireland to an acting and musical family, Dorothea had to support her family from a very young age due to her father’s absence. Her mother was an actress herself by profession and noticed Dorothea’s talent early on and set her in good stead on the stage in Dublin. Around this time, Dorothea became the mistress to Richard Daly, the manager of the Theatre Royal in Cork where Dorothea first worked. He was married but Dorothea bore him a daughter, one Frances Daly. Daly was the first of many keepers who would support Dorothea financially and artistically, in exchange for a romantic and sexual relationship. She toured in northern England in 1782 before making her first appearance in London at Drury Lane, as Peggy in ‘A Country Girl.’ Dorothea would be a member of the Drury Lane company until 1809. She was an overnight sensation, best noted for her comedic roles and her breeched parts: it was said that Dorothea looked particularly good in male clothing as she had the most beautiful legs in the kingdom. During her time as an actress, she was kept by a Charles Doyne, Tate Wilkinson (who managed many theatres in the north of England), George Inchbald (actor brother of his more famous actress sister, Elizabeth Inchbald), and finally by a magistrate named Sir Richard Ford, who Dorothea met in 1786 and bore three illegitimate children. Dorothea soon realised that Ford had no intention of marrying her but it was around this time that she had caught the attention of Prince William, Duke of Clarence (later King William IV) and entered into a romantic, monogamous relationship with him. They lived together in relative domesticity in Bushy House and had at least ten illegitimate children together, all bearing the last name of Fitzclarence. Dorothea occasionally returned to the stage during this time, where she was still ever popular, and she was even relatively well liked by Prince William’s royal family. Dorothea and Prince William were obliged to separate in 1811 after the death of the heir to the throne, Princess Charlotte of Wales, as William, along with his brothers, was expected to marry a princess and produce children. Dorothea and Prince William’s children were loved by William’s new wife, Princess Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen but the same could not be said for Dorothea herself. She was awarded a stipend and custody of her children on the condition that she did not return to the stage but, after Dorothea’s son in law became heavily in debt, she had to return briefly to the stage to pay it off. Prince William received word of this and removed their daughters from her care and cut off her stipend. Dorothea fled to France to avoid her creditors in 1815 but died there just a year later, in relative poverty.

Sources

The Secret History of Georgian London: How the Wages of Sin Shaped the Capital // Dan Cruikshank

The Origins of Sex: A History of the First Sexual Revolution // Faramerz Dabhoiwala

Madams: Bawds and Brothel-Keepers of London // Fergus Linnane

The First Bohemians: Life and Art in London’s Golden Age // Vic Gatrell

The Gin-Lane Gazette: A Profusely Illustrated Compendium of Devilish Scandal and Oddities from the Darkest Recesses of Georgian London // Adrian Teal

Amatory Pleasures // Julie Peakman

Night-Walking: A Nocturnal History of London // Matthew Beaumont, Will Self

A Grim Almanac of Georgian London // Graham Jackson, Cate Ludlow

Courtesans // Katie Hickman

The Covent Garden Ladies: Pimp General Jack and the Extraordinary Story of Harris’ List

London, the Wicked City: A Thousand Years of Vice in the Capital // Fergus Linnane

Perdita: The Life of Mary Robinson // Paula Byrne

Beloved Emma: The Life of Emma, Lady Hamilton // Flora Fraser

Various editions of Harris’ List

#harlots #harlots hulu #18th century #18th century history #georgian london #georgian england #nsfw/#long post/

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vicstoriies · 5 years

Photo

2009.

"What brings you here today?" The question feels loaded and she doesn't exactly know how to respond. She didn't want to come here, but it was David who suggested that it was a good idea for her to talk out her past experiences so she can learn how to move on from them. It was difficult for her to get used to life without DC there, hovering over her just waiting for her to fuck up by his standards. She was also have a difficult time adjusting to becoming less of the shell she'd turned into. His incarceration was probably the best thing to ever happen to her and even with his mistreatment of her as his wife, she hates to feel that way about him. After all, she was married to him for nearly twenty years of her life... and even with all the bullshit and the pain, she did love him. That was her problem. Victoria shifts uncomfortably in her seat before finally responding to the question, "I'll be honest with you, I didn't want to come here and I wasn't going to. It was my co-worker who convinced me that it was a good idea." She watches as Dr. Larkin scribbles in her notepad and feels herself becoming even more uncomfortable. It's then that the room gets warmer, like the temperature was raised about ten degrees too high. She pulls the sweater she's wearing by the collar, away from her neck, in an attempt to cool herself down. She's nervous and it shows in how fidgety she is. Dr. Larkin looks up from her notebook with the look of neutrality that David explained to her when he suggested therapy. Apparently, it was effective to speak to someone who had no emotional ties to either parties. More often than not, Victoria was left to fend for herself over the yeas. It was a long, lonely ride but somehow, she'd made it. This was just another step in the right direction, David would say. "Why do you think that is?" "B-because of..." She struggles because she can't help the bitter taste of betrayal that forms on her tongue. She feels that by telling her story, any part of her story, she's betraying him. Hurting him in some way and convincing herself that she's no better than he is by badmouthing him to some stranger. It's not gossip though, it's truth. Her truth, for once. "━because of my husband. Well, soon-to-be ex-husband." "And what is your ex-husband's name?" "Declan, but he goes by DC." Dr. Larkin writes it down. "And why would you be here because of Declan?" "He was..." she struggles once more, this time breaking the minimal eye contact she already had with the doctor to drop her gaze down to her feet. "It's okay, this is a safe place. You're safe here. Nothing leaves this office. What did he do?" "He was... abusive." She looked back up at her, "... very abusive." "Abusive, how?" "Seriously? How are they usually abusive?" "Abuse could be physical... emotional... mental..." "I guess I'll take option D for 'all of the above'..." "Mrs. Deschaine━" She corrects her, "Victoria. Mrs. Deschaine is my mother-in-law." Dr. Larkin continues with a nod, "Victoria, why don't you tell me about the first time you started noticing his negative behavior?" "Like, the first time he hit me?" It was something she longs to forget, but her memory has always been very good. She remembers everything, especially the bad, details and all. not even a few knocks in the head could make her forget the moment when she realized she'd made a mistake. "Perhaps, instead, tell me what he was like when you first met? We'll start from the beginning." There's a soft chuckle that escapes her when the memory came flooding back to the forefront of her mind, "Oh, when we first met... he was a dream." Th room around them seems to fade, bringing her back to many years prior when she was still in high school. When all of her hopes and dreams for her future might be like were open to endless opportunities, before things got really bad. I was pretty popular in high school because I was a cheerleader, she begins the story, but I didn't thrive on the popularity like other people did. My close group of friends weren't involved in any of the sports at school but were creative, imaginative people. I dated a football player for two years before Declan, but I broke up with him when I found out that he was cheating on me with a girl on the cheerleading squad because I wouldn't put out for him. She laughs, thinking about what she'd ended up with instead. Everyone knew of DC and his family. The Deschaines are like Limbo royalty. He wasn't involved in any athletics or school activities either, but he was popular with everybody anyway. Uncommon for a group of delinquents who hung around wearing leather and riding motorcycles, isn't it? She shrugs, But Declan, he was charming. He had a charisma about him that made him irresistible to those around him, especially the girls. Me? I wasn't too interested... my dad was the Chief of Police and he warned me against that group of people daily. I was a good girl. I listened, until I didn't. I remember it was a graduation party that DC was also invited to, although he dropped out of school a year prior. Rumor was that it was so he could prospect for the local motorcycle club, DC confirmed that after we got together Anyway, I was actually kind of bummed about graduation because I knew that it meant change. Friends would lose touch and college was right around the corner. I was still unsure of what I wanted to do with my life. I spent most of the party in the corner of the room, feeling sorry for myself, with a drink in my hand that I barely touched. Everyone else was having a good time and celebrating their success. But I remember the first time our eyes locked on each other's. Every feeling I felt is still so vivid. He was so handsome and he had a smile that made eighteen year old me so weak in the knees, that I had to brace myself against the wall behind me so that I wouldn't fall on my ass. It was the first time I understood why all the girls fell over themselves just to impress him. I was the first one to break the eye contact, but I know DC took his eyes off of me. I was probably as red as that shirt your wearing, she nodded towards the shirt Dr. Larkin had on, I was so embarrassed. But he walked over to me, confident as ever. I remember my... he would be my future brother-in-law, Marc, trailing behind him until DC told him to stay back. I swear, my hands were shaking so badly, I'm so sure he noticed. "What're you doin' here all by yourself?" He asked with the biggest grin stretched across his face, like talking to me was equivalent to winning the lottery. He closed the space between us some, but I noticed he kept enough distance not to make me uncomfortable. "I'm not alone. Just not really in the partying mood." He looks down at the drink in my hand and I feel pathetic for not having taken more than two sips from it. He doesn't seem to care though and he looks back into my eyes and I swear, I could get lost in his. "How 'bout you dance with me? Maybe that'll help you get in tha' partyin' mood?" "Oh, I'm not a dancer." I lied because I actually wasn't bad at it, I was just too nervous to accept the offer. I knew I'd embarrass myself. All DC does is laugh, while he takes the cup from my hand and sets it down on a nearby table. He takes my hand and leads me towards the dance floor. "You're a cheerleader, that's close." I didn't expect him to even know who I was, let alone that I was a cheerleader. He must've noticed the look of surprise contorted into my features. "Don't think I don't know who you are, Victoria Anderson. I've been watchin' you for awhile." His fingers intertwine with mine and he pulls me close. I remember the song being a fast one because I made a comment about it, but he insisted on a slow dance anyway. It was more intimate, he said, and he wanted to be close to me. I could hear whistling and shouting from his friends somewhere off in the distance when his forehead rested against mine and he let go of my hand briefly, probably to flip them off. "You cut your hair," He points out. "I remember it bein' longer." He traces a finger down my spine and stopped at the small of my back. "'bout this long, wasn't it?" I didn't realize until then just how much he paid attention to me. I was so taken by him. My own sisters barely noticed the haircut and they saw me everyday. "Um, yeah, that's right. My mom told me that it was getting too long and said it was time for a trim... and well, the lady at the salon kind of got scissor-happy." "I liked it that long." I suddenly felt silly for listening to my other, but it would grow back. I'd only spoken to him for a few minutes by then, but I already felt like I was falling in love with him. I don't remember it being that way with my ex-boyfriend. We were just kind of together because that's what made sense. But DC? DC made me feel like I was looking at my soulmate. We actually ended up spending the rest of the night together and eventually we ended up leaving the party. It was the first time I'd ever driven on a motorcycle. He took me to his favorite spot, we talked for hours, I missed my curfew for the first time ever. I felt like I'd known him forever, he was so captivating to me. The last thing he said to me that night before he kissed my cheek was, "'m gonna marry you someday," And all I could do was laugh, but inside? I was a wreck. It felt like a fairy tale, like I was watching myself in a movie. All of it felt so surreal. He felt too good to be true. Reality set back in and she watched as Dr. Larking continued scribbling everything down. She wonders briefly what her notes say. "... turns out, he was too good to be true." she swallows hard. "Funny thing is, looking back now, I feel like even then... he gave me no choice but to fall in love with him. Like from the very moment he set his sights on me, I was his. That probably sounds stupid." Dr. Larkin shook her head, "Not at all, Victoria. This was a good start. Our session is almost up, but I would like to continue seeing you.How does next week, same day and time sound?" Victoria nods, "Sure."

#｢❀ ♡ * ｣ DRABBLE » victoria&declan.#｢❀ ♡ * ｣ DRABBLE » victoria&antoinette.#｢❀ ♡ * ｣ DRABBLE » therapy sessions.

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dfroza · 3 years

Text

Love.

it certainly isn’t just about sexuality since Love is actually God our Creator who formed the human body, in male & female.

we won’t even be sexual beings in Heaven since it is for the physical body on earth. but sex on earth is certainly reserved for the purity of the “marriage bed”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 13th and closing chapter of the book of Hebrews:

Let love continue among you. Don’t forget to extend your hospitality to all—even to strangers—for as you know, some have unknowingly shown kindness to heavenly messengers in this way. Remember those imprisoned for their beliefs as if you were their cellmate; and care for any who suffer harsh treatment, as you are all one body.

Hold marriage in high esteem, all of you, and keep the marriage bed pure because God will judge those who commit sexual sins.

Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have because He has said, “I will never leave you; I will always be by your side.” Because of this promise, we may boldly say,

The Lord is my help—

I won’t be afraid of anything.

How can anyone harm me?

Listen to your leaders, who have spoken God’s word to you. Notice the fruits of their lives and mirror their faith.

Jesus the Anointed One is always the same: yesterday, today, and forever. Do not be carried away by diverse and strange ways of believing or worshiping. It is good for the heart to be strengthened by grace, not by regulations about what you can eat (which do no good even for those who observe them). We approach an altar from which those who stand before the altar in the tent have no right to eat. In the past, the bodies of those animals whose blood was carried into the sanctuary by the high priest to take away sin were all burned outside the camp. (In the same way, Jesus suffered and bled outside the city walls of Jerusalem to sanctify the people.)

Let’s then go out to Him and resolve to bear the insult and abuse that He endured. For as long as we are here, we do not live in any permanent city, but are looking for the city that is to come.

Through Jesus, then, let us keep offering to God our own sacrifice, the praise of lips that confess His name without ceasing. Let’s not neglect what is good and share what we have, for these sacrifices also please God.

Listen to your leaders and submit to their authority over the community, for they are on constant watch to protect your souls and someday they must give account. Give them reason to be joyful and not to regret their duty, for that will be of no good to you.

Pray for us, for we have no doubt that our consciences are clean and that we seek to live honestly in all things. But please pray for me that I may be restored to you even more quickly.

Now may the God of peace, who brought the great Shepherd of the sheep, our Lord Jesus, back from the dead through the blood of the new everlasting covenant, perfect you in every good work as you work God’s will. May God do in you only those things that are pleasing in His sight through Jesus the Anointed, our Liberating King, to whom we give glory always and forever. Amen.

Please, brothers and sisters, pay attention to this word of exhortation, for I have written only a few words to you.

I want to tell you that our brother Timothy has been set free; and if he arrives soon, he will come with me when I see you next.

Give my greetings to your leaders and to all of God’s people. Those of Italy greet you.

May grace always be with you.

The Book of Hebrews, Chapter 13 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 1st chapter of the book of Lamentations that is exactly that in pouring out words of lament:

Aaghh! Lonely is this city that once bustled with life;

Cheer is empty; like a widow, she is abandoned

and oh, so lonely.

She who was a princess, great among the nations,

has lost everything and been forced to serve as a slave.

Bawling, she weeps without constraint every night,

cries herself to sleep, bitter tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her former friends ignore her;

there is no one there to share her sorrow;

Companions contend and have betrayed her;

friends have been unfaithful and turned against her as enemies.

Carried off to a foreign place, Judah is exiled in misery

and debased by affliction and hard labor;

She cannot find rest living among the pagan nations.

She tried to run and hide, but in her distress pursuers have overcome her.

Despair permeates the very dust of Zion’s roads.

Nobody walks them in anticipation of celebration and worship.

No one enters the city’s desolate gates bringing offerings or sacrifices to God.

The religious leaders are heavyhearted,

And the virgin women despair.

It’s so bitter for dear Zion!

Enemies of Jerusalem have gained the upper hand.

Her foes prosper against her.

The Eternal One has caused her sorrow because of her rebellions,

for she acted against Him, willfully, again and again.

Even her little ones are taken away at the whim of her foes.

Faded beauty, this daughter Zion.

Her princely young men, like stags,

They have no place to graze, no strength to fight;

they fled to the woods,

Pursued mercilessly by hunters.

Gone are the days that she remembers, happy and precious;

Jerusalem wanders aimlessly and remembers what precious things she has lost—

Things from the old days of David, Solomon, and Josiah.

But now her people have fallen to her enemies,

And in this defeat by her enemies, no one ran to her aid,

and her enemies now snicker and gloat at her downfall.

Hideous must be Jerusalem’s crimes

that the city itself is now morally and ritually impure.

Those who once admired her now hate her.

They strip her naked and laugh.

All she can do is groan

and shrink back, ashamed.

Impurity clung to her inside the cover of her clothes.

She refused to consider anything but the present,

Never expecting her impurity would be revealed.

Nobody came forward with comfort—no one.

Lady Jerusalem: See, Eternal One, how badly I suffer

and how my enemies swell with pride.

Jabbing and fondling,

mauling all her treasures, the enemy takes stock.

Foreign nations enter even her holy place,

claiming what You decided was off-limits

And forbidden to them—Your temple.

Kept in hunger,

her people are desperate for food.

Once prosperous, they trade her treasures

for nourishment of any kind.

Lady Jerusalem: Look, Eternal One—

really see how hated I’ve become.

Look around, you who pass by and go about your business.

Is there any sorrow as great as mine?

Any pain as great as that which has been forced on me?

No. Because my pain comes from the Eternal.

It is His judgment, rendered on the day of His intense anger.

My bones burn with the wrath of God,

the fire sent from on high.

He laid a trap, then left me,

turned me back to the destruction,

With the shakes, constantly sick and faint.

Now the burden of all my wrongs is a yoke.

God has laid them upon my shoulders,

Bound them around my neck.

He has made sure I’m too weak to support them.

The Lord gave me into the hand of an enemy.

I could not resist.

Overwhelmed by none other than God,

the Lord has determined that all my warriors are worthless.

He has summoned a meeting of those who are against me

to crush the young men who would protect me,

And He has stomped lovely Judah, virgin daughter,

like grapes in a winepress.

Pity, my eyes won’t stop their crying; I can’t stop.

There is no one nearby to comfort me or revive my spirit,

No one to pull me up.

My children know it—they’re left empty,

The enemy has won.

Quietly, Zion spreads out her hands, pleading for comfort.

But no one comes. The Lord forbids it.

God has commanded Jacob’s enemies

to surround her.

Jerusalem has become their foe;

she is an impurity among them.

Lady Jerusalem: Right and true is the Eternal One.

I am the one in the wrong: I have rebelled against His law.

Listen all of you peoples.

See how much I have suffered;

My handsome men and my gentle women, unmarried and unprotected,

have marched away into captivity.

Summoning my lovers brings nothing—

nothing but pain in their betrayal.

The old guard, religious and political leaders,

have died starving here in the city;

Their search for sustenance failed.

Take account, Eternal One, of me; how miserable I am.

My belly growls and turns;

My heart is wrung out like a rag; my faults and failings are to blame

because I have been rebellious.

Death is everywhere in the homes;

the sword makes women childless in the streets.

Uncaring, with no compassion from others,

they know how badly I suffer.

O how alone I am.

My enemies gloat, and You have brought about my misery,

So happy to know I’m in pain.

But You, O God, will make them as bad off as I.

Vindicate me and judge their evil actions

and make them suffer,

As You’ve made me suffer

for all my wrongdoings.

I’m a wreck, and I groan with a faint heart.

The Book of Lamentations, Chapter 1 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, October 5 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that takes a look at “In the beginning…”

10.04.21 (Tishri 28, 5782) "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, and the earth was "tohu va'vohu" - without form and empty, and darkness was over the face of the deep..." (Gen. 1:1-2). The sages comment that knowing that God created the heavens and the earth makes us realize that by themselves earthly things are without purpose and substance, since life in the natural world is havel havalim (הֲבֵל הֲבָלִים), "vanity of vanities," apart from the design (form) and the substance of God. Faith in the upper "world" of God, that is, the heavenly realm, therefore evokes a sense of discontent and longing within the soul, and the temporal world and its pleasures will seem distracting and empty. This lack of form and emptiness was part of the original design of creation, however, since it was after God had created the universe that "he saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good" (Gen. 1:31).

Just as we cannot see light but by means of it we see other things, so with Yeshua, the Light of Life, the Form and Substance of God... By His illumination we are able to see the spiritual reality of God's Presence and invincible love... Yeshua is "the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power" (Heb. 1:3). He is the Fountain of Life: by his light we see light (Psalm 36:9). Amen, God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all (1 John 1:5).

and another:

10.04.21 (Tishri 28, 5782) Our restoration begins with God's love and passion. God's first question to Adam after he broke covenant was: "Where (אַיֶּכָּה) are you?" - the voice of a loving Father in search of his son (Gen. 3:9). Of course God knew exactly how his son was attempting to hide, though He almost acted as if He was unwilling to believe that he would betray his love by disobeying His commandment. Therefore God's poignant question was directed to Adam's heart: "Oh my son, how did you get to this place?" God was giving Adam an opportunity to turn back to Him, to confess the sin, to undergo teshuvah, to become reconciled... This is the necessary prelude to any honest relationship with God.

Recall that the original promise of the coming Savior was given within the context of the curse and judgment upon Satan: "I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; he shall crush your head, and you shall crush his heel" (Gen. 3:15). That God's promise was first directed to Satan is surely by design, since he "left his first estate" by becoming the "monster in the garden" and was therefore primarily responsible for the transgression of Adam and Eve in the first place (Ezek. 28:13-15,19). The promise delivered to Satan was therefore one of coming retribution and divine judgment: Evil would not have the last word in the matter of mankind, and therefore Satan's schemes would be avenged by God in the fullness of time (Gal. 4:4-5). Notice, however, that Adam and Eve were not yet judged for their sin when the LORD God gave the promise of the coming of the Redeemer. Before a word of judgment was directed toward them, God's love and light was already revealed. Indeed, immediately after their judgment was pronounced, "the LORD God made tunics of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them" (Gen. 3:21) - a clear picture of being compassionately "robed in righteousness" imparted by an innocent sacrifice. The very first sacrifice recorded in the Torah - performed by God Himself - prefigured the coming redemption by the "seed of the woman" who would die as a substitutionary sacrifice for their sins, and therefore Yeshua is rightly called "the Lamb slain from the foundation (or beginning) of the world" (Rev. 13:8). This further explains why Eve's son (Abel) offered a blood sacrifice that was accepted by the LORD, whereas Cain's offering the "fruit of the earth" was rejected.

The very first prophecy of Torah therefore describes - in the most succinct form - the coming of the Savior and the great conflict of the ages. First, God declares that He would put enmity (אֵיבָה) between Satan and the woman. This enmity, or "hostile hatred," was based on the memory of Eve's misguided trust she evidenced in the garden. When Eve first sympathetically listened to the lies of the nachash (serpent), she immediately began her descent into exile and became a temptress herself. Her first step toward sin was a gullibility or openness that ultimately resulted in a lack of trust of God (which is part of the reason why we must be saved by trusting, as a "like-for-like" reversal of the original sin). At the very dawn of human history, then, we see that "truth" (אֱמֶת) apart from God (א) leads to death (מֵת). Eve was deceived because of Satan, but Adam deliberately chose to disobey God (2 Cor. 11:3; 1 Tim 2:14). In response to her teshuvah (repentance), God blessed Eve before He judged her by imparting to her a God-given hatred for Satan and his lies, as well as the promise that she would take part in the birth of the Savior of mankind. The first promise of the gospel, then, focused on the woman and her role in the coming redemption. Notice that Adam later renamed his wife Eve (i.e., Chavah: חַוָּה, the "mother of life") as an expression of his faith that the promised seed would come through her.

to be concluded with this post about the garden:

When Adam was put in the Garden of Eden, God told him that he was free to eat from any tree in the Garden except from "the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil" (עץ הדעת טוב ורע), which logically implies that evil existed before that time. After all, the knowledge of something assumes the existence of that thing, and if there was knowledge of evil, then evil would exist, at least potentially... If we understand evil (in this context) as a volitional act of disobedience to God's will, the existence of moral agency that could disobey the divine imperative must be assumed. And since the angels were created before the earth was created (Job 38:4-7), then Satan, understood to be an angelic being, had rebelled against God some time before the original prohibition was given to Adam and Eve. Good and evil are therefore terms defined in relation to the person and nature of God: that which is "good" is what God reveals as good, and that which is evil is the negation (or privation) of that good. God's inherent goodness is non-derived and absolute, however, and therefore there is no standard "above" God that determines his judgment about what is good and what is evil. God is the source of all goodness, whereas the "sitra achra" (סִטְרָא אָחֳרָא), or the "other side" of God's will, is the realm of evil or demonic powers.…

Some time after Adam and Eve were created, a mysterious being called "the serpent" (or “nachash”) appeared in the Garden tempting them to do evil by disobeying God. In the Torah we read: "Now the serpent was more "subtle" or "cunning" (עירם) than any other beast of the field that the LORD God had made" (Gen. 3:1). Notice that while the serpent was described as "cunning," he had disguised himself as a "beast of the field" (חַיַּת הַשָּׂדֶה). In his ploy to sabotage God's crowning act of creation, he slyly pretended to be a humble animal that was curious about God's appointed king and queen over the earth. "Was it really true," the serpent began, "that God said you shall not eat from any tree of the garden?" Undoubtedly the serpent deliberately misrepresented God's will as he set his bait. Eve responded to the question by correcting the beast, teaching him that they were allowed to eat fruit from any of the trees in the garden except for the tree in its midst. She then recalled God's commandment, saying: "You must not eat from it, and you must not touch it, or else you will die" (Gen. 3:2-3). In this connection note that Eve had misquoted the commandment by adding the prohibition not to touch the tree -- something God did not say (Gen. 2:16-17).

At any rate, the serpent, seizing the opportunity to exploit Eve's overstatement, then directly contradicted her understanding of the matter: "You shall not surely die!" He then insinuated that God's ulterior motive was to restrict access to the Tree because it would cause their eyes to be opened so they would become like God, knowing the difference between good and evil. It is telling that the serpent accused the Creator with being envious, since that is how he rationalized his own decision to turn away from God, thinking that God did not want to share his glory with any other being than himself (Isa. 14:14).

The trap having been set, Eve became ensnared by doubt. First she began looking the tree over and saw that it bore pleasant fruit; then she recalled the serpent's praise of the fruit of the tree as the means of gaining god-like insight about good and evil, and finally, in her desire, she took some of the fruit, ate it, and gave some to her husband (who was with her). The effect of their transgression was apparently immediate: "The eyes of both were then opened, and they knew that they were naked (עירם); and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves coverings" (Gen. 3:7).

The serpent had spoken a partial truth: their eyes were opened, but when they saw their own inner evil, they were ashamed. They went dark; they withdrew into lonely and fearful exile. They wanted to hide the truth from themselves and from God himself.

Later, when Adam and Eve heard the sound of God walking toward them in the garden, they attempted to hide themselves among the trees. The Lord then called out, "Ayekah?" Where are you?, though of course he knew exactly where they were hiding. God was calling out to his lost children, asking them to turn back to him. Adam then stepped out from among the trees, covered with fig leaves, and anxiously said, "I heard your voice but I was afraid because I was naked..." (Gen. 3:10).

Recall that when God had created Adam and Eve they were "naked but not ashamed" (Gen. 2:25), but now, after their transgression, their nakedness became a source of fear. Their innocence was lost and this led them into a shattered state of anxiety and self-awareness.

The "original sin" is depicted as eating from the fruit of the "Tree of the knowledge of good and evil," the access of which was gained by means willful disobedience to God, and the consequence of which was separation from God, or "spiritual death." Note that the effect of the curse of spiritual death was "passed down" to the progeny of Adam and Eve as a lethal condition judicially derived from the original transgression in the Garden. In other words, since Adam and Eve functioned as "federal heads" of the human race, their sin was consequently imputed and transmitted to the rest of humanity, as it is written: "Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, so death spread to all men because all sinned" (Rom. 5:12).

It is interesting that the same Hebrew root (i.e., ערם) is used to describe both the "cunning" of the serpent (Gen. 3:1) and the "nakedness" of Adam and Eve after their sin (Gen. 3:7). In Satan's case, God exposed his pride which resulted in exile from the heavenly realm (Isa. 14:12-15; Ezek. 28:12-14). After his fall, the "nakedness" of Satan led to the shameless "celebration" of lawlessness and the cunning devices of evil. In the case of Adam and Eve's fall, however, the "uncovering" resulted in exile from the Garden and the shame and fear derived from their own wicked hearts. In both cases, however, the root cause of evil was pride that exalted the will of creature above that of the Creator, and in both cases the consequence of usurping God's authority resulted in judgment and spiritual death. God's judgment upon Satan, however, was irrevocable, since Satan had "nakedly" sinned before the Divine Presence in the realm of the eternal, whereas Adam's judgment was provisional until the coming of the Savior, who would overthrow Satan's claim to be the federal head of fallen humanity by means of the perfect obedience and sacrifice of the "Last Adam," the Son of Man, who would withstand the temptation of the evil one and gain the victory on our behalf. God signified the promised ransom to come by graciously clothing Adam and Eve with the skin of the first sacrificed animal, offered by God himself, in anticipation of the Lamb of God who would take away the sins of the world (Gen. 3:21). [Hebrew for Christians]

10.5.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

October 5, 2021

The Heart of Stone

“Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart.” (Ephesians 4:18)

The blindness mentioned in our text is the same word used to describe a kind of stone. In verb form, this word indicates a process and means “to make hard or to petrify.” Often the word is translated as “hardness.”

The people of Israel developed a hard heart and mind toward God and the things of God (2 Corinthians 3:13-15), which continually brought grief and anger to the Lord Jesus (Mark 3:5). Even the disciples suffered from this hardness (Mark 6:52; 8:17).

Our text is directed toward New Testament believers who are challenged not to become blinded or petrified as are unbelievers. This petrification in the moral realm can be compared to the loss of sensation in the physical realm—a kind of spiritual paralysis as when sensor and motor nerves no longer respond. “Who being past feeling have given themselves over to lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with greediness” (Ephesians 4:19).

Petrification of once-living tissue usually takes place over the course of many years, as each organic molecule decays and is removed, with the space it occupied refilled with stony material dissolved in groundwater percolating through the host material. Or it may take place as material is injected into the living tissue, thus stopping all life processes. In just such a way, the hardening of the heart can take place slowly, but finally petrification is complete. Petrification of wood can be stopped by removing it from the decay-and-replacement process, but natural processes cannot return it to its former state. Praise God that we can “put on the new man” (v. 24) with a renewed (new) mind and spirit (v. 23), no longer hardened toward the things of God. JDM

0 notes

witchfromthestars · 4 years

Text

Top Ten Books for Young Adults

Ferocious dragons and evil witches; mighty heroes and invincible superheroes; romantic tales and happily-ever-after stories: the fantasy world of a young adult is weaved around all these.Though there are comics, T.V. channels and DVDs where he can satiate his passions very well, books for young adults are the latest fads. Can you imagine their world without all those Harry Potters and Frodo Bagginses who hold the reins of their hearts all the time? The best thing is that grabbing a book of their choice is not that hard these days, thanks to the myriad online book stores that are only a click away from their reach. Well, if you are a teenager and looking forward to read some really good books, here is a list of some of the best ones that you can purchase and enjoy.Do you want to learn more? Visit https://www.amazon.com/Road-Dendura-Creed-Griffon/dp/0692099387/

Inheritance (by Christopher Paolini)

A captivating story of a Dragon Rider, Eragon and his dragon, Saphira who are on an adventurous quest to save Alagaesia from the clutches of the evil king, Galbatorix. One of the ultimate fantasy books for young adults.

The 39 Clues:Cahills Vs. Vespers: A Kings Ransom (by Jude Watson)

Second in the series of 39 clues, this one is about Amy and Dan for whom taking the right decision is like getting blood out of a stone. They have to face deadly Vespers who will either play havoc with the world if not stopped or snatch the hidden tunnels leading to Timbuktu from them.

Angel Fire: (by L.A. Weatherly)

A book where action and adventure are thrown in together for the teen young adults. Willow and her lover are determined to kill Church of Angels, but there are hurdles as Willow is only half-angel. Soon, she finds herself fallen for another handsome stranger.

Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune (by Rick Riordan)

In continuation to the last saga, Heroes of Olympus: The Lost Hero, this book for young adults is an answer to the questions that they were left guessing last time. Percy Jackson comes back and is on a quest to Roman half-blood camp. What happens next? Get this thriller and start reading.

A Game of Thrones: A Song of Ice and Fire (by George R.R.Martin)

Nothing less than an epic, this mind-blowing young adult fiction is of astronomical proportion in terms of fantasy and catastrophe.

Fallen in Love (by Lauren Kate)

It is all about bumping into someone and falling in love with him; it is about excruciating pain of losing a passionate love; and it is about the urgency to make love for one last time. You will read the book with throbbing hearts and pangs of separation. A book that every young adult will fell in love with.

King of Lanka (by David Nair)

A book for young adults that they are going to connect with the epic story of Ramayana.Rasita is captured by the devilish Ravindra and her friends Vikram and Manjit have to rescue her from the clutches of Ravindra whose mind is plotting nefarious plans.

Kate Chronicles: The Red Pyramid (by Rick Riordan)

A story that turns the tables and takes the reader from the precincts of mundane life to the world of Egypt gods.Dr. Julius Kane, father of Carter and Sadie, unleashes Set, an Egyptian god, while performing his research work. The sons set out on a quest to protect the devil that is after their father now. One of the best young adult fictions.

The Power of Six (by Pittacus Lore)

A captivating science fiction story for young adults with surprises at every turn. A sequel to 'I am Number Four', this book is the next in the series of Lorein Legacies. The book is a narration from the point of view of John, Number Four and Marina, Number Seven.

Abandon: Underworld (by Meg Cabbot)

Another book that takes the reader to dark and bewitching world of the underworld. Meg Cabbot has come up with a sequel to his previous immensely popular book 'Abandon'. Pierce is fatally attracted to John who lives in the dark realm. But she finds out some unexpected things about him and is perplexed what to do next. Pick up the one that interests you and order at some good online bookstore.

0 notes

fuckyeahfreedownloads · 5 years

Text

Top Ten Books for Young Adults

Ferocious dragons and evil witches; mighty heroes and invincible superheroes; romantic tales and happily-ever-after stories: the fantasy world of a young adult is weaved around all these.Though there are comics, T.V. channels and DVDs where he can satiate his passions very well, books for young adults are the latest fads. Can you imagine their world without all those Harry Potters and Frodo Bagginses who hold the reins of their hearts all the time? The best thing is that grabbing a book of their choice is not that hard these days, thanks to the myriad online book stores that are only a click away from their reach. Well, if you are a teenager and looking forward to read some really good books, here is a list of some of the best ones that you can purchase and enjoy.Checkout teen fiction books for boys for more info.

Inheritance (by Christopher Paolini)

The 39 Clues:Cahills Vs. Vespers: A Kings Ransom (by Jude Watson)

Angel Fire: (by L.A. Weatherly)

Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune (by Rick Riordan)

A Game of Thrones: A Song of Ice and Fire (by George R.R.Martin)

Nothing less than an epic, this mind-blowing young adult fiction is of astronomical proportion in terms of fantasy and catastrophe.

Fallen in Love (by Lauren Kate)

King of Lanka (by David Nair)

A book for young adults that they are going to connect with the epic story of Ramayana. Rasita is captured by the devilish Ravindra and her friends Vikram and Manjit have to rescue her from the clutches of Ravindra whose mind is plotting nefarious plans.

Kate Chronicles: The Red Pyramid (by Rick Riordan)

A story that turns the tables and takes the reader from the precincts of mundane life to the world of Egypt gods. Dr. Julius Kane, father of Carter and Sadie, unleashes Set, an Egyptian god, while performing his research work. The sons set out on a quest to protect the devil that is after their father now. One of the best young adult fictions.

The Power of Six (by Pittacus Lore)

Abandon: Underworld (by Meg Cabbot)

0 notes

mymagicparty · 5 years

Text

8. Top Ten Books for Young Adults

Ferocious dragons and evil witches; mighty heroes and invincible superheroes; romantic tales and happily-ever-after stories: the fantasy world of a young adult is weaved around all these.Though there are comics, T.V. channels and DVDs where he can satiate his passions very well, books for young adults are the latest fads. Can you imagine their world without all those Harry Potters and Frodo Bagginses who hold the reins of their hearts all the time? The best thing is that grabbing a book of their choice is not that hard these days, thanks to the myriad online book stores that are only a click away from their reach. Well, if you are a teenager and looking forward to read some really good books, here is a list of some of the best ones that you can purchase and enjoy.Have a look at find more info for more info on this.

Inheritance (by Christopher Paolini)

The 39 Clues:Cahills Vs. Vespers: A Kings Ransom (by Jude Watson)

Angel Fire: (by L.A. Weatherly)

Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune (by Rick Riordan)

A Game of Thrones: A Song of Ice and Fire (by George R.R.Martin)

Nothing less than an epic, this mind-blowing young adult fiction is of astronomical proportion in terms of fantasy and catastrophe.

Fallen in Love (by Lauren Kate)

King of Lanka (by David Nair)

A book for young adults that they are going to connect with the epic story of Ramayana. Rasita is captured by the devilish Ravindra and her friends Vikram and Manjit have to rescue her from the clutches of Ravindra whose mind is plotting nefarious plans.

Kate Chronicles: The Red Pyramid (by Rick Riordan)

A story that turns the tables and takes the reader from the precincts of mundane life to the world of Egypt gods. Dr. Julius Kane, father of Carter and Sadie, unleashes Set, an Egyptian god, while performing his research work. The sons set out on a quest to protect the devil that is after their father now. One of the best young adult fictions.

The Power of Six (by Pittacus Lore)

Abandon: Underworld (by Meg Cabbot)

0 notes

lynchgirl90 · 7 years

Photo

Kyle MacLachlan and David Lynch excited to collaborate again in the return of 'Twin Peaks'

For Kyle MacLachlan, it was all about the suit.

More than a quarter of a century since “Twin Peaks” ended its brief but influential run on ABC, the actor is reprising his signature role as FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper, a man whose appreciation of cherry pie and a “damn fine” cup of coffee knows no bounds, in a long-anticipated revival premiering Sunday on Showtime.

MacLachlan has been through quite a lot since the early ’90s, when the mystery of who killed beauty queen Laura Palmer captivated viewers.

The 58-year-old, his hair graying ever so slightly at the temples, has endured wild career swings, gotten married, become a father, and even started a wine business.

Dressed in head-to-toe black, he's seated in an office at Showtime's headquarters in midtown. A dozen stories below, city buses bearing sepia-tone images of him as an older, but still dashing, Cooper chug down Broadway

Luckily the suit still fit.

“The suit pretty much sets it for me — my whole being starts to transform,” says MacLachlan, moving his hands as if grasping an invisible pole to suggest Cooper’s ramrod posture. “And also just David’s presence. When David’s there, I’m Cooper.”

That would be David Lynch, who co-created the original series with Mark Frost and co-wrote and directed all 18 episodes — or “parts,” as he prefers to call them — of the revival. Announced with much fanfare in October 2014, the limited series premieres Sunday and is shrouded in a layer of secrecy that makes the NSA look like amateurs. (Even seemingly benign details about Cooper’s suit were deemed too spoiler-y for print.)

The series marks the return of not only one of the most admired cult series in television history but also the creative partnership between Lynch and MacLachlan, whose most recent collaborations were the 1992 prequel film “Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me” and a series of “Twin Peaks”-themed Japanese coffee commercials from the same era.

Their relationship dates back to the mid-1980s when MacLachlan, then an unknown actor fresh out of the University of Washington, was plucked from regional-theater obscurity to play the lead in “Dune” (1984), Lynch’s first foray into big-budget Hollywood filmmaking. The adaptation was a notorious commercial and critical failure, but it marked the beginning of a dynamic period of collaboration between the actor and director.

“Blue Velvet” (1986), was the antithesis of “Dune” but a precursor to “Twin Peaks” in its warped view of small-town life and flashes of deadpan humor. MacLachlan starred as Jeffrey Beaumont, a college student whose discovery of a severed ear in the grass leads him on an adventure that plays like “The Hardy Boys” on bad acid.

Cooper was conceived as “a grown-up Jeffrey Beaumont,” says Lynch in a phone interview.

“He’s a magical kind of detective,” explains the director, whose plainspoken quality somehow makes him more inscrutable. “He’s got way more energy than most people. He’s always wide awake and alert and he’s always happy.”

Though Cooper is first introduced a full half-hour into the pilot episode of “Twin Peaks,” he makes an immediate impression, enthusing about the local evergreen trees in the first of many tape-recorded messages to the never-seen Diane.

“That scene very much encapsulated the range of things Kyle can play,” says Showtime President David Nevins. “He’s stalwart and subversive at the same time, which is hard to do.”

MacLachlan still considers the pilot, which he rewatches from time to time, “an extraordinary piece of filmmaking.” It debuted in April 1990 to enormous ratings and ecstatic reviews, with critics praising the singular blend of horror, soapy melodrama and quirky humor. But once the central mystery was resolved, viewers fled. Despite organized protests from fans, ABC canceled the series after 29 episodes, immediately cementing its status as a cult classic.

The part earned MacLachlan two Emmy nominations, a Golden Globe Award and countless free cups of coffee from admirers over the years.

“‘Twin Peaks’ is still the [project] people respond to more than others,” he says, pausing for a beat, “certainly more than ‘The Doors.’” (In case you’d forgotten, he played keyboardist Ray Manzarek in the Oliver Stone film.)

“Twin Peaks” is a surreal puzzle of a show whose influence is evident in shows from “Stranger Things” to “True Detective.”

Wisely, though, few have attempted to imitate its eccentric yet pure-hearted protagonist. Cooper is, on one level, an old-fashioned Hollywood hero marked by boyish enthusiasm and unflagging moral rectitude, a point driven home in the series pilot when he’s mistakenly called Gary Cooper. This is a character who once proclaimed “I would very much like to make love to a beautiful woman who I had genuine affection for” while lying near death on the ground with a gunshot wound in his stomach.

And yet beneath the clean-cut G-Man exterior beats the heart of an oddball. Cooper relies on dreams and visions as much as physical evidence, communicates with dancing dwarfs from alternate dimensions and is drawn to Eastern spirituality. In the series’ second episode, he famously eliminated suspects by throwing stones at bottles from a distance of 60 feet — a technique inspired by his love of Tibet.

“He seems to be secretly listening to radio waves from the zodiac, through the fillings in his teeth,” wrote critic John Leonard in his New York Magazine review of “Twin Peaks.” “He’s a wonder, a puzzlement, a Boy Scout from Sirius the Dog Star.”

Between bites of a ham sandwich, MacLachlan puts it more simply. “You feel like he’s come through darkness, but he’s been able to keep it in place. It doesn’t drive him.”

The series concluded with one of the most heartbreaking series finales in TV history. After a harrowing journey through the mysterious Black Lodge — a.k.a. that room with the red curtains — Cooper was possessed by the malevolent spirit known as Bob. What’s happened to the agent since then — did he take to murdering young girls, like Bob-possessed Leland Palmer before him? — is easily the biggest question hanging over the revival.

MacLachlan hit a rough patch in the years that followed “Twin Peaks,” epitomized by a Razzie-nominated role in "Showgirls" that involved an unintentionally hilarious pool sex scene. But he eventually found a niche of sorts in parts that, like Agent Cooper, played in tension with his classic good looks. In “Sex and the City,” he portrayed Charlotte’s seemingly perfect first husband, Trey MacDougal, a WASPY cardiologist with deep-seated mommy issues and a pesky case of erectile dysfunction. And there was Orson Hodge, Bree’s lying, philandering, would-be plumber-murdering husband on “Desperate Housewives.”

What he didn’t do was return to work with Lynch, who made films with other dark and handsome types, like Justin Theroux (“Mulholland Drive”). MacLachlan has theories about why. “I’m Cooper for David,” he says. “That’s it. I’m Cooper and I live in Twin Peaks.” (Lynch gently disputes this: “If another role came along that he was right for, I would know it and I would be very happy for him. It just didn’t ever happen.”)

However, the pair did see each other regularly. MacLachlan has a home in the Hollywood Hills, just up the road from Lynch. When in town he’d often “just take the parking brake off the car and roll down the hill” for a cup of coffee — yes, coffee. Their conversations would inevitably turn to “Twin Peaks.”

Lynch would usually dismiss the idea of a revival, even though “it wasn’t ever dead,” he says. “The stories continue in one’s mind.”

Eventually, MacLachlan got an urgent phone call from Lynch: He had something to discuss but couldn’t talk about it on the phone. “I said, ‘I hope it’s nothing health-related,’” MacLachlan recalls.

It was not. In New York, Lynch pitched him the new “Twin Peaks” and asked if he’d be interested in reprising the role of Cooper. “I said, ‘I’ve never not been interested,’” says MacLachlan, who was “seduced by the challenge” of reviving “Twin Peaks.” The series arrives amid a wave of ’90s revivals taking over the small screen, including “Fuller House,” “The X Files” and “Will & Grace.”

But this continuation is not driven by nostalgia, insist those involved. If anything, Lynch, who was less involved in the show’s second, uneven season, seems motivated by a desire to course-correct and return to the vision laid out in the pilot. “In my mind the series drifted away from what I thought of as ‘Twin Peaks,’” he says. “It was tough to watch for me.”

Co-writing and directing 18 hours of television — after more than a decade away from full-time filmmaking — was a feat of stamina for Lynch, who also returns in a supporting role as Cooper’s boss, Gordon Cole. “I was a major stud before I started, and now I can barely walk,” he jokes.

For Showtime’s Nevins, Lynch and Frost’s hands-on involvement was essential. “I was only interested if I knew it was going to be the real thing,” he says. The executive describes the revival as Cooper’s “odyssey back to himself” and an exploration of relevant themes of national identity.

“I find Kyle such a quintessentially all-American actor, and I think that’s what David likes about him. It’s really interesting revisiting this character and this world in a moment in American history where we’re trying to figure out who we are, and what it means to ‘Make America great again.’”

MacLachlan is less inclined to elaborate, but does let it slip that — spoiler alert — his professional chemistry with Lynch returned instantly. “That’s something that came back like that,” MacLachlan says with a snap of his fingers. “We do a great dance together.”

link (TP)

#Twin Peaks #LA Times #Kyle MacLachlan #David Lynch

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bvtterflyeffectxx-a · 5 years

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♡ ━ NO CHOICE.

━ 2009 ; NEARLY A YEAR INTO DC'S INCARCERATION. ( therapy session 01. ) "What brings you here today?" The question feels loaded and she doesn't exactly know how to respond. She didn't want to come here, but it was David who suggested that it was a good idea for her to talk out her past experiences so she can learn how to move on from them. It was difficult for her to get used to life without DC there, hovering over her just waiting for her to fuck up by his standards. She was also have a difficult time adjusting to becoming less of the shell she'd turned into. His incarceration was probably the best thing to ever happen to her and even with his mistreatment of her as his wife, she hates to feel that way about him. After all, she was married to him for nearly twenty years of her life... and even with all the bullshit and the pain, she did love him. That was her problem. Victoria shifts uncomfortably in her seat before finally responding to the question, "I'll be honest with you, I didn't want to come here and I wasn't going to. It was my co-worker who convinced me that it was a good idea." She watches as Dr. Larkin scribbles in her notepad and feels herself becoming even more uncomfortable. It's then that the room gets warmer, like the temperature was raised about ten degrees too high. She pulls the sweater she's wearing by the collar, away from her neck, in an attempt to cool herself down. She's nervous and it shows in how fidgety she is. Dr. Larkin looks up from her notebook with the look of neutrality that David explained to her when he suggested therapy. Apparently, it was effective to speak to someone who had no emotional ties to either parties. More often than not, Victoria was left to fend for herself over the yeas. It was a long, lonely ride but somehow, she'd made it. This was just another step in the right direction, David would say. "Why do you think that is?" "B-because of..." She struggles because she can't help the bitter taste of betrayal that forms on her tongue. She feels that by telling her story, any part of her story, she's betraying him. Hurting him in some way and convincing herself that she's no better than he is by badmouthing him to some stranger. It's not gossip though, it's truth. Her truth, for once. "━because of my husband. Well, soon-to-be ex-husband." "And what is your ex-husband's name?" "Declan, but he goes by DC." Dr. Larkin writes it down. "And why would you be here because of Declan?" "He was..." she struggles once more, this time breaking the minimal eye contact she already had with the doctor to drop her gaze down to her feet. "It's okay, this is a safe place. You're safe here. Nothing leaves this office. What did he do?" "He was... abusive." She looked back up at her, "... very abusive." "Abusive, how?" "Seriously? How are they usually abusive?" "Abuse could be physical... emotional... mental..." "I guess I'll take option D for 'all of the above'..." "Mrs. Deschaine━" She corrects her, "Victoria. Mrs. Deschaine is my mother-in-law." Dr. Larkin continues with a nod, "Victoria, why don't you tell me about the first time you started noticing his negative behavior?" "Like, the first time he hit me?" It was something she longs to forget, but her memory has always been very good. She remembers everything, especially the bad, details and all. not even a few knocks in the head could make her forget the moment when she realized she'd made a mistake. "Perhaps, instead, tell me what he was like when you first met? We'll start from the beginning." There's a soft chuckle that escapes her when the memory came flooding back to the forefront of her mind, "Oh, when we first met... he was a dream." Th room around them seems to fade, bringing her back to many years prior when she was still in high school. When all of her hopes and dreams for her future might be like were open to endless opportunities, before things got really bad. I was pretty popular in high school because I was a cheerleader, she begins the story, but I didn't thrive on the popularity like other people did. My close group of friends weren't involved in any of the sports at school but were creative, imaginative people. I dated a football player for two years before Declan, but I broke up with him when I found out that he was cheating on me with a girl on the cheerleading squad because I wouldn't put out for him. She laughs, thinking about what she'd ended up with instead. Everyone knew of DC and his family. The Deschaines are like Limbo royalty. He wasn't involved in any athletics or school activities either, but he was popular with everybody anyway. Uncommon for a group of delinquents who hung around wearing leather and riding motorcycles, isn't it? She shrugs, But Declan, he was charming. He had a charisma about him that made him irresistible to those around him, especially the girls. Me? I wasn't too interested... my dad was the Chief of Police and he warned me against that group of people daily. I was a good girl. I listened, until I didn't. I remember it was a graduation party that DC was also invited to, although he dropped out of school a year prior. Rumor was that it was so he could prospect for the local motorcycle club, DC confirmed that after we got together Anyway, I was actually kind of bummed about graduation because I knew that it meant change. Friends would lose touch and college was right around the corner. I was still unsure of what I wanted to do with my life. I spent most of the party in the corner of the room, feeling sorry for myself, with a drink in my hand that I barely touched. Everyone else was having a good time and celebrating their success. But I remember the first time our eyes locked on each other's. Every feeling I felt is still so vivid. He was so handsome and he had a smile that made eighteen year old me so weak in the knees, that I had to brace myself against the wall behind me so that I wouldn't fall on my ass. It was the first time I understood why all the girls fell over themselves just to impress him. I was the first one to break the eye contact, but I know DC took his eyes off of me. I was probably as red as that shirt your wearing, she nodded towards the shirt Dr. Larkin had on, I was so embarrassed. But he walked over to me, confident as ever. I remember my... he would be my future brother-in-law, Marc, trailing behind him until DC told him to stay back. I swear, my hands were shaking so badly, I'm so sure he noticed. "What're you doin' here all by yourself?" He asked with the biggest grin stretched across his face, like talking to me was equivalent to winning the lottery. He closed the space between us some, but I noticed he kept enough distance not to make me uncomfortable. "I'm not alone. Just not really in the partying mood." He looks down at the drink in my hand and I feel pathetic for not having taken more than two sips from it. He doesn't seem to care though and he looks back into my eyes and I swear, I could get lost in his. "How 'bout you dance with me? Maybe that'll help you get in tha' partyin' mood?" "Oh, I'm not a dancer." I lied because I actually wasn't bad at it, I was just too nervous to accept the offer. I knew I'd embarrass myself. All DC does is laugh, while he takes the cup from my hand and sets it down on a nearby table. He takes my hand and leads me towards the dance floor. "You're a cheerleader, that's close." I didn't expect him to even know who I was, let alone that I was a cheerleader. He must've noticed the look of surprise contorted into my features. "Don't think I don't know who you are, Victoria Anderson. I've been watchin' you for awhile." His fingers intertwine with mine and he pulls me close. I remember the song being a fast one because I made a comment about it, but he insisted on a slow dance anyway. It was more intimate, he said, and he wanted to be close to me. I could hear whistling and shouting from his friends somewhere off in the distance when his forehead rested against mine and he let go of my hand briefly, probably to flip them off. "You cut your hair," He points out. "I remember it bein' longer." He traces a finger down my spine and stopped at the small of my back. "'bout this long, wasn't it?" I didn't realize until then just how much he paid attention to me. I was so taken by him. My own sisters barely noticed the haircut and they saw me everyday. "Um, yeah, that's right. My mom told me that it was getting too long and said it was time for a trim... and well, the lady at the salon kind of got scissor-happy." "I liked it that long." I suddenly felt silly for listening to my other, but it would grow back. I'd only spoken to him for a few minutes by then, but I already felt like I was falling in love with him. I don't remember it being that way with my ex-boyfriend. We were just kind of together because that's what made sense. But DC? DC made me feel like I was looking at my soulmate. We actually ended up spending the rest of the night together and eventually we ended up leaving the party. It was the first time I'd ever driven on a motorcycle. He took me to his favorite spot, we talked for hours, I missed my curfew for the first time ever. I felt like I'd known him forever, he was so captivating to me. The last thing he said to me that night before he kissed my cheek was, "'m gonna marry you someday," And all I could do was laugh, but inside? I was a wreck. It felt like a fairy tale, like I was watching myself in a movie. All of it felt so surreal. He felt too good to be true. Reality set back in and she watched as Dr. Larking continued scribbling everything down. She wonders briefly what her notes say. "... turns out, he was too good to be true." she swallows hard. "Funny thing is, looking back now, I feel like even then... he gave me no choice but to fall in love with him. Like from the very moment he set his sights on me, I was his. That probably sounds stupid." Dr. Larkin shook her head, "Not at all, Victoria. This was a good start. Our session is almost up, but I would like to continue seeing you.How does next week, same day and time sound?" Victoria nods, "Sure."

#♡ » declan ‘dc’ deschaine / ( connection. )#♡ » drabble / ( writing. )

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seriouslyhooked · 7 years

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Remember the Time (The CS Mixtape) Part 152/?

Series of CS oneshots inspired by music. Collection on FF Here.

A/N: This is a really old prompt (so sorry for the delay) for a cannon divergent fic where Emma loses her memories and Killian somehow makes her remember again. In order to accommodate that request I’m essentially rewriting a big part of 6A, so when the Evil Queen answered Emma’s wish to never be the savior she doesn’t send her to the wish realm, but takes away her memories of everything that happened from the moment Henry came to find her in Boston. For the purposes of this chapter I am also pretending that Emma and Killian were already engaged at this point and that Snow and David had broken the sleeping curse. Inspired by ‘Remember the Time’ by Michael Jackson.

“I can’t do this, David. Emma’s hurt, our daughter is hurt and we did this to her.”

The woman’s voice filled the darkness in Emma’s mind and though it was faded and murky, as if it was transferring through some sort of distortions to reach her, it was there.

Am I sleeping? Emma wondered. She didn’t know, but the voice wasn’t familiar to her and the throbbing in her head was only grated further by the joining of a second voice.

“The Queen did this, Snow,” a man said in a stern tone, but underneath it there was some doubt. Emma could hear it warbling through his words, which of course made absolutely no sense. What did a Queen have to do with anything?

“To get to us – to ruin our happiness! I thought we were passed this. I thought we could have… I was wrong David, and now Emma’s paying the price. She’s always paying the price.”

“It’ll be alright. She’ll wake up, and when she does we’ll get through this. We always do.”

If Emma weren’t struggling so hard to even open her eyes she’d probably give more thought to why these people were talking about her and who had a name like Snow and spoke about royals so nonchalantly. It was strange, foreign, and bizarre, but then another feeling came to her, a sense that her hand was holding onto something, or rather someone. That was the thing that befuddled her most, and she finally won the war between continued sleep and waking up to find out what was going on.

The first person she saw was the man holding onto her hand. He looked tired, worried, and like he was battling the greatest sort of grief, and for a moment Emma’s eyes being opened went undetected. She studied him carefully, sensing even though it was crazy that this man’s pain was over her current state. Who was he? And why did he care about her? She didn’t know him – hell she’d never seen him before in her life, yet her hand was holding onto his, and she didn’t immediately pull back, part of her liking the feel of this connection, something she’d gone without for so long.

“Mom?” The words came from a teenage boy on the other side of the hospital bed that Emma also didn’t recognize. He was tall, gangly, and looking at her convinced she was his mother but that couldn’t be. She didn’t have a kid… okay so she did technically have a kid but he would be younger – he’d be like ten or so and this kid was not ten.

“Emma! Oh Emma you’re awake,” the woman who’d been crying over her said, but when she reached out Emma flinched back, trying to avoid this person she didn’t know.

“Look lady, I don’t know who you are but I don’t know you. I don’t know any of you.”

Emma said the words as she pulled her hand from the handsome man’s grasp, but even as she said it her eyes caught on his blue ones and her heart skipped a beat. There was something in those eyes that captivated her, something that felt familiar but wasn’t. Emma shook her head, trying to drag herself out of it but she couldn’t. Even when she looked away she felt his gaze on her, daring her to give into whatever insane spark there was between her and this total stranger.

“Mom it’s me, it’s Henry,” the boy said and Emma looked at him not knowing what to say. He couldn’t be her kid. It just wasn’t possible given the timing, even if there were little things about his features that could have been thanks to her or Neal. Ugh, Neal, another thing she didn’t need brought up unless she wanted this headache to get worse.

“I’m sorry, you seem like a nice kid,” Emma said trying to placate the look of sadness in the boy’s eyes, “but you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not a mother, I don’t have a son or any family for that matter, and I definitely don’t need a bunch of people weirdly looking to me for something I don’t want to give.”

Emma reached for the tubes and IVs that she was hooked up to and began to take them off when the man beside her reached for her hand once more. The action alone was enough to still her, both because of its quiet insistence and its gentle nature.

“Emma.”

Her name from his lips sent a shiver through her and she found herself heating at the slight bit of accent that shone through. Damn what was it about this guy? Whatever it was she had to fight it. She wasn’t about to feed into anyone’s delusions, even if he was arguably the hottest guy she’d seen in forever and totally into her. He surprised her though by not demanding he remember her as the others had.

“Let the doctor help you, love. You’re free to go, no one is going to force you into anything, but best to leave the medicine to the professionals after the fall you took.”

Emma hadn’t expected him to be on her side or to be rational even, and it was clear the three other people in the room hadn’t expected it either, but the man was clearly in charge right now and he set things in motion for all of them. He told the younger boy to grab the doctor and asked the man and woman who were there to find Belle and Regina. He didn’t get more specific than that, but all of them complied, leaving a moment when it was just the two of them

“Thanks for that,” Emma found herself saying, even though she should have insisted that he leave too.

“Not a problem. Can I get you anything else? Some water or some food perhaps? You were out a long time. I hate to see you wanting for anything.”

The sweetness in the offer was another thing Emma simply wasn’t used to. Everyone in her life had an angle, and that was saying something since she had pretty much no one at all. But in his mannerisms this man was giving away so much, and what it revealed was stunning to Emma. He truly just wanted to help her, and given her current state she could clearly use all the help she could get.

“Well you could tell me your name,” Emma said, feeling embarrassed as soon as she said it. She immediately tried to cover her tracks. “You know just to even the playing field. You all seemed to know a lot about me, but I don’t know you.”

“It’s Killian, love. Killian Jones.” Of course he had a hot name. That was just her luck.

“Huh. Don’t hear that one every day. So what happened to me, Killian? And where exactly am I?”

Killian appeared about to respond and to give her the answers to the questions Emma was grappling with when a doctor came in with that same young boy. He went through a series of tests with Emma, asking her all of these questions about the year and the date and where she was and she was shocked to find she failed every last question.

“Wait you expect me to believe that years have gone by? I’ve been in a coma for years?” Emma asked, staring at the half a dozen newspapers someone procured from the waiting room for her and waiting to be told she was some kind of miracle case. Clearly if she’d been sleeping for so long and woke up there must have been some kind of one in a million situation, right?

“No Emma. You’ve only been out a day or so,” Doctor Whale replied and Emma shook her head, not believing it.

“That’s not possible,” Emma whispered, her mind racing in a hundred different directions.

The last thing she remembered was bringing that jackass in for embezzling and screwing over his wife. She’d had to sit through the beginning of that dinner faking attraction to a man she knew was total scum, and then to make matters worse he’d unknowingly stumbled onto her weakest spot in the walls she’d erected to keep people at arm’s length. That dig about her not knowing family had hurt and though she’d masked it with anger to start, Emma still recalled going back up to her apartment and caving to that sense of sadness as she blew out the candle on a cupcake she’d had to buy herself. It was a pathetic excuse for a birthday, and yet so achingly familiar. But after that everything was black. Had she gone to sleep? Had something happened? And more importantly, how the hell had she ended up in some sleepy, podunk town in Maine?

“I know it’s a lot to take in right now, Emma. But we’re telling you the truth,” the woman from before said who had treated her like a mother would with all the care and worry Emma always assumed came from parents. This time she was carrying something, a small box decorated with flowers and lace, and when she opened it up to show Emma the contents of the compartment there were all sorts of pictures, pictures of Emma with the people in this room, and it was startling to say the least.

“You have a life here,” the woman named Snow continued. “A family, a town you call home. You’re the sheriff here, and the sav- I mean, a real figurehead for everyone. Those pictures are just little glimpses of the life you’ve made for yourself, Emma.”

As her fingers danced across the vivid snapshots of a life Emma didn’t remember at all, there were two warring emotions inside of her. The first was obviously fear, fear of the unknown and the fact that she did not have any recollection of any of this. But underneath that there was also a sense of longing. This life, this version of her, looked like it had been happy and Emma had never in her life been truly happy. Even in the moments when she thought she’d procured that all too elusive state, it came to nothing but heartbreak and pain. Yet in these photos, heartbreak was the last thing in sight.

It’s a trick, Emma thought to herself. It can’t be real. Things like this don’t happen. I’m not meant for a life like this.

“These could all be photo-shopped,” Emma said, pushing the stack of photos away and shaking her head. She had to stay firm in the denial right now, because her head was saying that was the logical thing to do. She couldn’t just cave to a beautiful story. She had to deal with the facts, and the facts as she knew them said that Emma was alone in the world and always had been.

“But they aren’t Emma. Look into your heart – you know we’re telling you the truth,” the man named David implored and Emma could see that he, and everyone else making the case for her belonging here, meant this. Her usual alarm bells for people who lied weren’t sounding, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“Just because you believe something is true does not make it real.”

“That’s what you said when I came to find you the first time,” the young boy who Emma had been told was named Henry said. “But I proved you wrong. I helped you believe, and we’ll do it again Mom. You’ll see.”

That felt like the final straw for Emma. These people weren’t going to let this go and for Emma that was a nightmare. She had no inclination or desire to sit here and indulge in sweet but ultimately untrue fantasies. She was a realest, and despite the ‘evidence’ they all had presented, Emma did not think that this could all be possible. Now she just had to find a way to get out of here and get the hell out of dodge before these people could pull her too much further into their delusions.

“I think what Emma needs more than anything right now is space,” Killian said, cutting through the talk that was sparking so much anxiety for Emma and calming her down a little bit in the process. She shot a look his way, finding that he looked far more in control than the others did, though there was some sadness in his expression too.

“Is that what you want, Emma?” The woman named Snow asked and Emma immediately nodded, causing the rest of them to almost recoil in pain. “Well alright then. But I think someone should stay with you. I don’t want you to be all by yourself.”

There it was again – the concept that in this alternate fantasy she wouldn’t be alone. It was tantalizing for someone like her who had gone with out substantial bonds with anyone for so long, but it was also a risk. If you let down your walls it was the surest way to getting hurt, and Emma was done with that. She would rather be cold than wounded, but she also knew that an element of surprise would be her best bet here. So yeah, she’d allow someone to stay with her and then promptly give them the slip when she found a way to get out of this mess.

“Would you stay?” Emma asked Killian then and though his gaze softened some, Emma almost felt as if he could see through her mask to the designs she was concocting in her mind. Could he tell that she was planning to use him as a pawn in her escape? If he did, it didn’t seem to matter since he promptly agreed.

“Aye, love. I’ll stay.”

Emma let out a relieved breath and offered the man a smile, which seemed to give everyone else enough faith in her acceptance to leave. The only thing was that when everyone else was gone, Emma was left alone with the hot – albeit delusional – foreign guy and forced to make more small talk.

“So...” Emma said, dragging out the word but still coming up with nothing to say. “Have you lived in this town long? What’s the name of it again?”

“Storybrooke, and no I haven’t. I was a wanderer for a long time before I found home in this place.”

Just like me, Emma thought to herself. Though she’d never really called it wandering, she’d called it running.

“What made you stay?” Emma asked, actually curious. Even if he was crazy, she had this weird need to understand him. For some reason Emma genuinely felt a need to gain some kind of insight about him.

“A highly intriguing woman who I was starting to care for told me I could be a part of something if I chose to stay, so I made my choice.”

Be a part of something. The words zinged through Emma’s mind, bouncing around in an interesting way. She couldn’t quite explain it, and it made no rational sense, but Emma felt like she’d heard them before or maybe said them? She didn’t know, and moreover she couldn’t really care. There just wasn’t room in her already anxiety-raddled head for more questions.

“Let me guess. I’m the woman,” Emma replied sarcastically and Killian only gave a slight nod, clearly not wanting to push her with the memories. But the thought that she was the person was enough to make her laugh, surprising Killian when she did. “Sorry it’s just… I’m not really the kind of person who gives the hope speech.”

“That’s something we had in common, love, but things change. For whatever reason circumstances shift, and sometimes we’re destined to become more than we once were.”

“Maybe,” Emma whispered, surprised at just how deep his thoughts were. They were heavy in their intensity, but at the same time they trickled through Emma’s mind with a tiny sense of interest and belief, like even if she couldn’t remember it, she’d once viewed the world the same way. But before that new attitude could take hold, Emma mentally shook those thoughts away. She was starting to fall into the trap, and she had to be smarter than this. It was the only way to stay alive.

Looking out the window beside her and into the sunny Maine morning with it’s cloudless skies, Emma noticed now that she was on the first floor, and that the windows weren’t totally sealed shut, but able to be opened. It would be a tight squeeze to get out of, but Emma knew she could handle it. All she needed was two – maybe three – solid minutes of alone time.

“Killian?” Emma asked, pulling her eyes back to the mysterious man who seemed to care for her even more than he cared for himself.

“Aye, love?” he asked with a tenor that spoke to his intimacy with her.

“You mentioned food before… is there any way you could… I mean I don’t want to put you out but -,”

“Say no more, love. I’ll find you something. It likely won’t be much given the offerings in that vending machine contraption but I’ll make due.”

Emma smiled at his eagerness to get her something and at the weird way he referenced the vending machine and in a surprising twist even to her, she reached out for his hand before he left, holding on and feeling the spark of attraction climbing higher once more. That zap of awareness was startling and totally new for Emma, but it also felt so unbelievably good even as it scared her half to death.

“Thank you,” Emma said, feeling a little embarrassed at her gesture, but Killian was nothing if not smooth and he proceeded to place a kiss atop her hand like some gentleman in a period drama. Emma was then so distracted by the contact she didn’t have any room in her mind to be bashful.

“I’ll be right back,” Killian promised and then he was gone, leaving Emma watching as he left and then for just a moment longer before she sprang into action.

The first order of business was getting disentangled from this whole set up, but as she was doing that something caught her eye and made her stomach plummet only to rise back up again in a flurry of butterflies. For there, situated in a very telling spot on her left ring finger, was a simple band with a diamond at the center of it.

“Holy shit,” Emma muttered aloud. “How did that get there?”

It was a question that truly deserved an answer, and yet Emma had no time to find one. If she had any hope of getting out of here she had to go now, and she had a few tricks up her sleeve to get the scent of her trail after she threw on the clothes that had been laid at the foot of her bed. Only after those tasks were done did Emma sneak out the window, taking extreme care to shut it perfectly when she was outside so no one was the wiser of her having gone this way.

Once outside of the hospital, Emma was hyper-vigilant for any passing people. From what she’d gathered before from everyone who was visiting, Emma, at least in the delusions of this town, was well known around these parts. The last thing she wanted was to get recognized and have someone tip off the others. So instead she moved with a bit more stealth, slipping undetected from the hospital and making her way through a town she did not recognize at all.

This of course made it difficult for Emma to navigate but her instincts, for whatever reason, told her to follow the refreshing coastal breeze, which eventually led to the ocean’s edge. It took about ten minutes, but finally Emma made it to a marina where a number of small boats were docked and idea struck – maybe she could rig one of these to go and she could coast even to the next town. At least then she’d be out of the purview of the crazy people who seemed to think she belonged here. But just for a moment she stalled there, taking in the calm laps of the waves down below and the feint cry of shore birds as they flew above on this mild day.

“Not a bad getaway all in all,” a voice said, and Emma didn’t even bother to startle because she knew immediately that it was Killian. “Good diversions, an impeccably timed exit, and a misleading trail in the wrong direction. I gather the others will be searching for you for a good while.”

Emma closed her eyes at the praise, which even its sarcasm was somehow flirtatious. It was maddening to say the least that Emma was feeling this much for a guy she literally did not know. She was way too susceptible to this stranger after years of not letting anyone affect her at all, and before she turned to face him she had to get it together. So Emma took a deep breath and then attempted to do so.

“But you’re different,” Emma supplied flatly though she was still very curious as to how he’d found her. “Why?”

“Because I know you better than I know myself, Swan. Even if you’ve forgotten.”

God how tempting it was to believe that, that a man like Killian who was obviously caring underneath that bad-boy swagger and problematically attractive appearance actually knew her that intimately and chose to stick around. But even if Emma felt herself slowly succumbing to his charms and the desire to believe him, she decided to be rational over following her stupid, foolish heart.

“Maybe you think you know me but you don’t.”

“If it’s a test you need, Emma, then go ahead and ask. Clearly you require more proof and that’s fine. Hell it’s right even. Walking into something blind is a fool’s errand, and my Swan is no fool.” Emma’s gut clenched at the mention of her being his, but she pressed forward, pushing through the slight bit of infatuation on her part to the truth of the matter.

“Fine. What do you know about my past? What have I apparently told you?” Emma asked, not trying to be so transparent but actually wanting proof. If they were so closely bonded (and heck presumably engaged) he must know things that no one else would. She couldn’t just believe him even if she desperately wanted to; she had to see it.

“I know you were in and out of eleven homes when you were a kid, twelve if you count Granger House the two times you were there. I know you used to talk to the counselors in those places about your parents and finding them, but that when you were eight you gave that up. That was the year you stopped believing anyone would ever come looking for you. That was the first time you ever used the word orphan.”

Hearing that sent a spike of sadness through her. It was all accurate after all, and the timing and details were there, but back in those homes she’d had monthly check-ins with social workers and state-appointed shrinks. Emma could have easily said something that got recorded into the system, faulty as it was. It wasn’t exactly a secret to her back then – not something she’d played so close to the vest that no one could know.

“All of that could have been in my file.” Emma expected Killian to look hurt by her continued doubts but he didn’t. The same patience was there as was his will to give her what she wanted.

“I know you have this memory of the beach from when you were twelve. It was an usual treat and a bright spot in a life that needed so many more of them. You had something called a ‘funnel cake’ and so much of that stringy pink sugar that you got sick, but you didn’t want anyone to know because you thought they’d make you leave, so you rallied, willing yourself to get over it so you could have your one day in the sun.”

Emma had never told anyone that story before because by then she’d stopped cooperating with the shrinks and the other system affiliates. She knew how to play the people who were supposed to be helping her by then and she’d gotten quiet too, not offering much up to anyone, especially not adults.

“I know that the third time you ran away from a foster home you ended up miles away in a diner not so different from the one here in Storybrooke. You spent the whole afternoon watching a grandmother help her grandson with learning his letters and you sat there for over an hour wracking your brain and trying to remember who had taught you. Then you finally recalled it was a volunteer at your home at the time. Her name was Cassie and she had red hair.”

Okay, so there were three possibilities for what was happening right now – either this guy was straight up clairvoyant, he had an uncanny ability to guess the minor details of people’s lives, or he did know her, and somehow it was the latter possibility that made the most sense to Emma. Yet Killian pressed on, continuing to offer more facts at her feet.

“I know that the choice you made to give up your boy haunted you for a long time, even if you pretended that it didn’t so you yourself could survive. And I know you can’t remember but I promise you made amends, love. You became the mother you were always meant to be, and Henry has known real love in his life because of you.”

God Emma hoped that part could be real, because after so many years of burying down the pain of letting that baby go she would like to believe she’d been strong enough to make it right. She didn’t have the details, and hell from some of the stuff people had said since she’d woken up Emma could only imagine how messy and complicated they were, but if Killian said that she’d done right then maybe she could actually trust that she had.

“I know that you have never known an anger like the one you had for your parents at giving you up. The pain they caused you hurt worse than anything else, more than any break up or fake friend or false hope. They were your surest source of heartbreak and you carried their abandonment with you always, but somehow you managed to forgive them when all was said and done. You’re a woman of such strength that you moved past the worst scars etched on your heart, Swan. And that’s a feat so few people can ever hope to conquer.”

How that could have ever happened Emma would never know, but still the truth remained in Killian’s eyes as he stepped forward and took her hand in his. He wasn’t lying and so Emma had to imagine that it was possible. Even if it seemed like it could never happen, surely somehow she had found a way. Maybe after all this time and this whole life of running she was stronger than she knew.

“I know you put cinnamon on your cocoa every bloody time you have it,” Killian said and a laugh bubbled past Emma’s lips at the random, and more lighthearted fact. “It’s not a sometimes kind of love affair you have with that concoction, it’s a constant, so much so that if I even try to pass it off without you get this scrunched up look like I’ve denied you when that’s never my intention.”

Emma felt her heart constrict at those sweet words. Being denied things that she wanted was just a fact of Emma’s life or her old life or whatever. What she knew about herself before this town was bland and dull and gray. It was hopeless in so many ways, but there had always been that trickling of want under the surface. Buried behind the walls she’d cast in stone around her heart there were murmurs of what could be if she could only find it. A family, a home, a man who looked at her like Killian was looking at her right now.

“And I know that even if you never wake up from this I’ll always love you, Emma. You’ve been the keeper of my heart for so long now, and that will never change. No matter who you are or what you’ve done, I love you Emma Swan. You and only you.”

A flash of something sparked behind Emma’s eyes, and it was an image of Killian. He looked different and their surroundings had been darker, colder, and less safe but Emma recognized it. It was fleeting and gone in a second but she garnered something from it and gasped at the realization.

“You’ve said something like that before to me,” Emma whispered and Killian’s eyes grew wider as he took a step closer, invading her space with the scent of rum and leather and sun. It was intoxicating and filled Emma with this rush of need and adrenaline.

“Indeed I have, love. Do you remember?”

“I… I don’t know. You got anymore lines that memorable?” Emma said, somehow managing to joke even in the midst of this emotional moment. Killian laughed at that and grinned as his hand came to cup her cheek and his other arm moved around to pull her closer.

“A fair many I’d say. Let’s see… I’m a fan of every part of you.”

Another flash of something, this time indoors and with less of a feeling of darkness and evil around them. He’d been calm, open, and honest like he was now, and Emma had felt so full of hope. She remembered believing in something – in them – but there wasn’t much else.

“Keep going,” Emma told him and Killian smiled wider.

“You’re something of an open book.”

That worked too, though the surroundings in that were wild. They were climbing something high in the sky. What the hell had they been doing on a beanstalk? But it was real – Emma was certain even in it’s wildness that it had actually happened.

“When I win your heart, it will not be because of any trickery. It’ll be because you want me.”

Another memory flashed to the forefront, this time in a jungle of some kind and with it Emma got a little more. There were other flashes too, not just of Killian and her but of those other people who’d been at the hospital like her parents and her son. It was all clicking together, and Emma felt her hands clutching into Killian’s shirt, pulling him closer with every new piece of the puzzle.

“I’ll never stop fighting for us,” Killian whispered and that brought so much more flooding back not just of the moment he’d said it but all the moments that he fought for her and that her family fought for her too. By this point there were tears in Emma’s eyes, and they’d begun to fall against her cheeks, but Killian whipped them away looking like at any second he might kiss her and she was so damn ready for him to do so.

“There’s one thing I want you to be certain of – that I will always, always be by your side.”

And that was it. The dam truly broke in that moment and everything was back, every memory good and bad, painful and healing was given to Emma once more and those feelings of uncertainty were gone. Emma knew again who she was and where she belonged and it was right here, in this town, with this man who loved her just as much as she loved him.

“Hook,” Emma whispered, watching the moment when Killian knew she remembered everything and that look of relief and love and desire was enough to have her moving towards him at lightening speed.

In seconds their lips had crashed together, and the kiss was all passion and need and the leftover crazed feelings that their mental separation had brought. For Emma knew as hard as it had been for her to forget, it must have been so much worse for Killian. Couple this with the fact that this wasn’t even the first time he’d had to deal with that and Emma was overwhelmed, needing her true love to be certain that she was truly back again and she was so done with leaving.

“You always find a way to save me,” Emma said when they pulled back and Killian hummed out a happy sound as he made small circles along her back. The sensation was at once soothing and revitalizing, making Emma feel with every passing second like she was returning more and more to herself.

“That’s kind of our story, love. We’re in this together and the saving most certainly goes both ways.”

Emma knew Killian was right in his reply, and that prompted her to think back quickly on all those times when the chips had been down and they’d found their ways back to each other. There had of course been many trials, but for every one they faced there were also triumphs and the building of hope for both of them. Their love had formed in the midst of many storms, but Emma was sure that it had made them that much stronger. There was nothing that they wouldn’t over come, not with a love as true as this one.

“Here I was thinking we were just a princess and pirate,” Emma teased loving the moment when Killian growled out a sound that signaled his seeing things rather differently. But before he could get too moody over her teasing, she quickly kissed him again, bringing back that look of complete satisfaction that had been there moments before.

“You know I never wish to argue with you when I can help it, Swan, but in this case you’re dead wrong. We’ve always been more and we always will be.”

“You’re damn right,” Emma murmured totally agreeing with her devilishly handsome man’s assessment on this miraculous love they’d found together.

And with that, and a few more stolen kisses there on the docks, Emma and Killian returned to the others, both renewed in their desire to fend off this darkness and villainy plaguing their town once more. Because when it was behind them, and when the final battle had been fought and won, they could finally get back to the happiness they’d been working so hard for and the life they were meant to find together. And Emma was certain deep down in her heart that it would be a truly beautiful and magical happy ending, the likes of which no one had ever seen before.

…………………

Do you remember When we fell in love We were so young and innocent then Do you remember How it all began It just seemed like heaven so why did it end?

Do you remember Back in the fall We'd be together all day long Do you remember Us holding hands In each other's eyes we'd stare (Tell me)

Do you remember the time When we fell in love Do you remember the time When we first met girl Do you remember the time When we fell in love Do you remember the time

Do you remember How we used to talk (Ya know) We'd stay on the phone at night till dawn Do you remember All the things we said like I love you so I'll never let you go

Do you remember Back in the Spring Every morning birds would sing Do you remember Those special times They'll just go on and on In the back of my mind

Do you remember the time When we fell in love Do you remember the time When we first met girl Do you remember the time When we fell in love Do you remember the time

Those sweet memories Will always be dear to me And girl no matter what was said I will never forget what we had Now baby!

Do you remember the time When we fell in love Do you remember the time When we first met Do you remember the time When we fell in love Do you remember the time

Remember the times Ooh Remember the times Do you remember girl Remember the times On the phone you and me Remember the times Till dawn, two or three What about us girl

Remember the times Do you, do you, do you, do you, do you Remember the times In the park, on the beach Remember the times You and me in Spain Remember the times What about, what about

Remember the times Ooh, in the park Remember the times After dark Do you, do you, do you Remember the times Do you, do you, do you, do you Remember the times Yeah yeah

Post-Note: So even though this was a prompt that took me so long to figure out, when I finally got my idea sorted it was a pleasure to write. In many ways it reminds me of the 100th chapter I did (‘This Love’) with the flashbacks to their big moments, but at the end of the day my hope was basically to write a piece that includes two things – fluff (duh) and a sense that the show doesn’t always give us that out of everyone in her life, it’s Killian who knows Emma best. I like to believe that since the walls are down Killian does have those stories of Emma’s past, and he does have that insight into her that her parents or Henry might not have and that would have made him the perfect person to wake her up so to speak. Anyway, thank you very much to my extremely patient reader who requested this eons ago, and I hope that you all enjoyed and that you have a wonderful rest of your day!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38, Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45, Part 46, Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53, Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60, Part 61, Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68, Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75, Part 76, Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83, Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90, Part 91, Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98, Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103, Part 104, Part 105, Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118, Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138, Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs oneshot #cannon divergence #6A rewrite #emma swan #killian jones #the charmings #henry #captain swan mixtape #cs mixtape #the captain swan mixtape #prompted fic #remember the time

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fromadifferentlense · 4 years

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The Night I Met A Stranger.

I had decided to make my way to the beautiful city. It was a breezy summer night and the night was young. I felt something in the air, a type of happy uncertainty that I could not explain. Being young and naïve I decided to ignore that feeling. “a new acquaintance will turn your world upside down” Obviously Panda Express had no idea how awkward I was with new people. My fortune cookie I had open before boarding was obviously wrong. I got off the train evading direct eye contact with anyone in my path, you see once you make eye contact with someone, you run the risk of striking a conversation. I must admit I am the worst conversationalist and for that same reason, I evade people. As I walked the stairs that led to the main entrance with no real direction, just taking in the peace that the city always gave me, I realized how happy I was alone. I am an insomniac and walking around the city always made me feel less alone and at peace it made me realize that I was not the only person that struggled to go to bed at night. “Excuse me, do you have a lighter,” said a voice from behind me. “I-I am not a smoker sorry,” replied quickly as I sped away from the young lady with the revealing clothing. It made me wonder if she was cold I was wearing a cardigan and I might as well have walked out of my house on a bathing suit on a cold fall night. I guess I just feel the weather differently, “maybe she likes dancing, you have to wear light clothing if you are going dancing” I thought to myself as I let out a personal giggled. I had to look up to locate where I was standing, my inner thoughts had gotten me disoriented. “Oh, see that is what I call a smile,” said the man that I had almost bumped into while I was having a mental conversation with myself. I looked up staring straight into his green eyes, I was mesmerized by his perfect features. I didn’t know how to react, I tried apologizing but my vocal cords had forgotten how to emit sound. In all fairness, if you had seen the perfection of that man’s face you would have forgotten how to speak too. “Um, I-I was-wasn’t paying attention, sorry,” I stuttered as I let out a poor excuse of an apology. I was shaking I could not look away from his face, his look was piercing, dominant one of those looks that makes you weak, and warm and fuzzy all at once. once I was able to look away from him it felt like a year had passed. Like I had stood like a statue, motionless and expressionless for a full year. “Don’t worry, I would not mind getting run over by such a pretty smile,” he said as he flashed the most charismatic, and breathtaking smile I have seen in my entire life. I pulled my self together and waved goodbye as I sped away from him. My thoughts were hunting me, I was 100% sure I had experienced love at first sight. I knew I would never see him again, I was fighting everything within me not to run behind him. How can you see perfection and walk away so easily.” seriously, pull yourself together” I muttered to myself. “Come again?” said a familiar voice from behind me. Could I have been so lost in my thoughts that I had lost brain function? Did I come across someone I knew without realizing, that would be a new one for my book of awkward times. “Whose voice is that,” I thought to myself as I turned around. “David,” He said as he stretched out his hand introducing himself. My knees nearly gave, I instantly started sweating, I could feel my heart beating hard. “Linda” I replied extending my hand to him. “You Know… I said to my self. David, if you do not go back and find out if that beautiful woman has a boyfriend you will not sleep tonight” He said enthusiastically. ” I mean I didn’t want to sleep but, I think I might have founded hard to sleep for the rest of my life” he added. “Huh, I was thinking almost the same thing,” I blurted out, unable to stop my self. When he heard that he gave me a smile that almost made me fall to my knees. I was as embarrassed as I was proud of myself, I am not one to make such a bold move. I was always taught to be cautious especially if it was a handsome guy, but somehow my brain had forgotten all its training if I was going to die that night it was at least going to be a “beautiful” death. There are times in life when you know you have to take advantage of an opportunity, for me that was one of those moments. It was a moment where I had to be bold, outgoing, not me. “Can I walk with you?” He asked. I guess he must have seen something in my eyes because his next words made me truly fall in love with this stranger, at least for that night. “Let’s make a deal, you can call anyone you trust and send them your location, I will go wait over there so you can put your phone somewhere safe and accessible to you.” He said with a calm and patient look. “I have sisters too” he added. “I guess that is an arrangement I can agree to,” I said smiling, what I thought was a cute smile but I am sure I looked creepy. This man was the whole package, how could he see a woman struggle to trust and instead of being offended like most men, he offered peace of mind. We walked and talked as I lost all sense of time and self-existence, I knew it was reckless of me to be so familiar and open with a stranger, yet it felt so right. He was a gentleman, the kind that opens your door and waits patiently for you to walk in. The kind that shares his Mcdonald’s fries. The kind that takes off his jacket to make sure you are warm enough. As the night got heavier and heavier our spirits got lighter and lighter. I had found my soul mate, he was everything I ever wanted in a man. He was the kind of man you wait for your whole life. We sat by the lakeshore and stared at the water for a long time. Somehow, time felt different, it did not feel long like when you are waiting in line to get your food and you have been starving for two hours. The time with him felt long, like when you adventurously go zip lining and the line feels long but freeing, the kind of long that you wish never ends. “Do you know how to swim?” he asked softly I know what you are possibly thinking, That is how you get killed and discarded at the same time. I guess my face may have shown that same thought and he must have seen my hesitation because he changed the subject before he could even get an answer. I looked up to the sky avoiding eye contact, I knew I had fallen too deep too soon for a person I knew nothing about. I didn’t even know if David was his real name, or if he was even real. He could have been a dream for all I know, it was then that I realized that the sun was coming up. “What time Is it?” I asked confused. “5:30 am” He replied, with his captivating smile. “Oh I got to go, I completely lost track of time,” I said as I handed him his jacket back. We walked in a silence that could be heard from miles. It was like you could hear our thoughts, we both knew this was the end. We both knew that our encounter would be just that, we knew that our night would be gone and our lives would go back to normal leaving a void for both of us. “Well, Cinderella, Till we meet again,” He said as he leaned in to kiss me. I was shocked, I did not expect it, I could not fight it back either. Even though I did not expect to end our night like that, I wanted with all my heart to be kissed by him. When there is chemistry and you have gotten to know the person you know it will happen, but I had just met this man. I wasn’t sure I had made that kind of impression but I wanted to taste his kiss for the first and last time. “Till, We meet again,” I said in a whisper as I boarded my train. “Wow, I thought to myself, did I just spend the night walking around the city with a stranger.” It was then that I realized that I would never see this man again and that all that would be left would be that memory of the most magical night of my life. It would be like a ghost memory one of those from a past life that you do not fully understand why you have it. I knew I would live hunted by that smile and his piercing eyes. I never gave him my number and he never gave me his, I didn’t even think about it, he just felt so familiar. Even though we did not have intimacy, he would forever be my purest love, my most loved person. He would be my favorite memory that I would treasure and jealously keep. The memory I would never share with anyone, the memory of the night I met a stranger Updates: citlalisanchez.com

#creative writing #short story #work in progress

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lilacmoon83 · 7 years

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Dreaming Out Loud

Chapter 3: Snow Falls

From the moment he awoke in that bed, there had been three things on his mind. Snow and Emma, and finding them.

This place was very strange, but he had put enough together to know that this was the curse, especially the way Grumpy reacted to him like he was a complete stranger.

This was it. The place without happy endings. His last memories being awake were of putting his daughter into the wardrobe and then the searing pain in his abdomen, as one of Regina's Black Knights cut him down.

Fortunately, he also remembered all the years spent in limbo, in the dreamscape where he saw his beloved wife and daughter on a nightly basis.

He had been so eager to find Snow though that he had headed for the woods firstly. Then he realized she wouldn't be in the woods, because he remembered Emma telling them that no one had their real memories. Which begged the question as to why he did.

Now he was lost in the woods. At least he had enough mind to find something to wear besides the odd clothing he had woken up in. It was freezing, so he was glad he had grabbed the strange clothes and boots he had found in a wardrobe in the room.

Finally, after what seemed like forever trekking through the woods, he happened on a large house. There was light in the windows, but he was leery about going to see who lived there. He had no idea of knowing who he could trust besides Emma and Snow, even without her memories.

There was a peculiar sound behind him, a sort of clicking, and then a voice.

"Turn around slowly," the man said. David did as he asked and he came face to face with someone he did not recognize.

"You're the John Doe from the hospital," Jefferson said.

"John Doe?" David asked in confusion.

"It's what they call someone with no identity," he explained.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I have an identity. I know exactly who I am...but no one remembers me! She's done something to them! Everyone just looks at me like I'm crazy!" David exclaimed. Jefferson's eyes widened and for the first time in twenty-eight years, he was face to face with someone who remembered like him. Then he laughed merrily...almost madly.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" David growled.

"You...have your memories! I'm finally not the only one in this piss ant town that knows who they really are! It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Charming," he replied, with a bow David's eyes widened.

"Wait...you remember too? The Queenâ€¦" he started to say.

"The Queen...the curse...all the misery she's inflicted. I have to say though, this is a surprise. She finally screwed up. If she knew you remembered, she'd be foaming at the mouth. You're the last...well second to last person she wants to remember," Jefferson replied.

"So it's true...everyone else here has false identities?" David said.

"Yes...and she's taken away what they all love most," Jefferson replied.

"Emma told me that Snow thinks she's a teacher," David mentioned. The Hatter's eyes widened.

"What do you mean Emma told you?" Jefferson asked rigidly.

"It's kind of a long story," David replied.

"If Regina is your enemy, then we're on the same side. Let's go in where it's warm," Jefferson suggested. Charming followed him in and he put some tea on, as Charming found a chair.

"Who were you...back in the Enchanted Forest?" he asked.

"For many years, I was a peasant and struggled to feed my child, especially after my wife died," Jefferson replied.

"I'm sorry. I know what it's like to have...nothing," he said. Jefferson looked at him.

"Yes, I suppose you do," Jefferson agreed. He had been working for Rumple around the time he had made bartered the deal with David to take his brother's place.

"Your child..." David started to say.

"Grace...she's ten...has been ten for the last twenty-eight years. No one ages in this town. She lives with a couple in town," Jefferson said.

"How is that you remember?" David asked. He shrugged.

"Who knows? Regina wanted to punish me, I guess. It's my curse to remember and be powerless to do anything about it. Now...care to tell me how you've been in contact with Emma already?" he asked. David sighed and began telling him about the dreamscape.

The search of the woods had been nearly exhausted and Emma was really worried. There was no sign of her father anywhere and she could tell Mary was worried too, though she seemed confused by it.

"Where could he be? What if he's hurt?" Mary fretted, almost frantically.

"Mary Margaret...it's going to be okay. We're going to find him," Emma insisted.

"I wish I was as confident as you," Mary murmured.

"Finding people is kind of what I do," Emma said. She just hoped they found him before Regina did.

Enchanted Forest

60 years before the Dark Curse

Spring had dawned at last in the Enchanted Forest. Today, the fauna was in full bloom on this Spring Equinox, at least that's what mortals called it now. In years past, mortals would have known this day as Persephone's liberation from the Underworld. Her return to the mortal plane marked the end of winter and the beginning of spring.

But over the last few centuries, the Gods had not left Olympus much. Their interaction with mortals became less and less, so much so, that mortals considered most deities to be legends of the past now. And in Persephone's opinion, that was for the best. The Gods had a very bloody past with mortals, especially Ares and his twin sons Deimos and Phonos, Gods of Terror and Dread respectively. But that was another story entirely.

For Persephone, she preferred the mortal plane and thus why Misthaven had become among her favorite places. She was the goddess of vegetation, after all and the forests were so lush here.

The years being Hades' unwilling wife were getting harder and harder. His infatuation with her had dulled to indifference over the years, but he had refused to release her from her confines to the Underworld out of spite, much to her mother, Demeter's rage.

Persephone was humble though, much more so than her fellow deities, though some of them had mellowed over the years as well. While Aphrodite was always considered the most beautiful, Persephone was by far the fairest of all(much to Aphrodite's annoyance). And adored by almost all, especially her mother Demeter, who coined the term fairest of them all term to describe her lovely daughter, for her skin was white as snow, her hair black as a raven, and her lips red as a ruby.

Persephone didn't know much of her father, for her mother refused to talk about him. The mortals chronicled texts of their stories stated Zeus as her father, but Demeter was clear that he had not sired her and the mortals didn't know any better.

She sighed, as she let the sunlight bathe on her face, enjoying its warmth at last after the cold months of captivity in the Underworld at Hades' side. She found a bushel of snow drops and smiled, for they were her favorite flower. They were the only flower that could survive the harsh winter months that she was away. She felt a brush of wind and smiled.

"Hello Mother," she greeted. Demeter smiled.

"My daughter," she greeted, as she swept her pride and joy into her arms.

"I missed you," Demeter said.

"And I you, Mama," she replied.

"I will never get used to letting that demon incarnate keep you in his clutches," she fretted, as she caressed her dearest daughter's beautiful face.

"Hades is not cruel to me. He affords me all the luxuries of a Queen," she reasoned, though her voice was sad.

"A Queen that he forces into his bed; that he dares put his hands on," Demeter growled.

"Mother please...I do not wish to talk about Hades. And as much as I hope for true love, we know how rare it is...especially for deities," she replied. Demeter sighed, but said nothing. Persephone was enamored with the idea of true love, she had seen glimpses of it among mortals, but it was rare. A rare and beautiful thing.

"Come home with me," Demeter requested.

"I will soon, mama. I'd like to stay here a bit longer," Persephone requested. Demeter nodded.

"If you wish. Be along soon," she requested in return. The raven haired beauty nodded and journeyed off deeper into the forest.

The small woodland creatures, birds, and a few deer followed along with her, as they often did and as she came upon a creek, she saw she was not alone. There was a man getting a drink from the stream, while he let his horse drink as well. As he turned, Persephone felt her breath catch. He was young, with chestnut colored hair, and very handsome. She became startled though when he saw her.

"Oh...I'm sorry to intrude," she said, as she started to hurry away.

"Wait...please don't go," the handsome stranger called.

I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you," Persephone said.

"You're not...I may be escaping to the forest for a bit, but I could use the company," he said, noticing all the curious forest creatures around her. It was peculiar, but not unsettling.

"I'm Elijah," he said, holding out his hand. She looked wary for a moment, but the animals did not fear him and that meant he did not mean to harm anyone.

"Persephone," she said. He cocked his head to the side.

"Persephone? Named after the goddess?" he asked. She smiled coyly.

"Something like that," she replied.

What ensued over the spring and summer months that followed that clandestine meeting was a whirlwind romance. By the time the leaves began to fall from the trees, Persephone was in love with Elijah and he with her.

But their lives were not their own and confessions would come on a chilly fall day, as they wrapped together in their secret hovel they had made in the forest near the stream where they had first met.

"You said you had something to tell me?" she asked.

"Mmm...something I should have told you from the beginning," he replied.

"Is this about you being a prince?" she asked and his eyes widened.

"How did you know?" he asked. She smirked.

"Despite the fact that you try to hide your royal ties when you travel, sometimes you forget to hide the royal crest on your horse's saddle. When I saw that, it didn't take long to realize that you're Prince Elijah of the northern Kingdom, younger brother to Princess Eva," she said. He sighed.

"Are you angry?" he asked. She shook her head and pecked him on the lips.

"We are not so different. We are both running from the trappings of titles and responsibilities," she replied.

"You mean how you are actually Persephone and not named after her?" he asked. Her eyes widened.

"You know?" she asked in disbelief. He nodded.

"How long?" she asked.

"I've suspected almost from the beginning. The animals love you, flowers bloom in your presence..." he trailed off.

"Then you know..." she said hesitantly.

"That you're married to Hades," he said stiffly.

"I do not love him," she insisted.

"I know," he assured.

"Then I hope what I have to tell you next won't anger you either," she stated.

"I love you...no matter what it is," he assured.

"I'm pregnant," she revealed. His eyes widened in surprise.

"How...far along?" he asked.

"Four months," she replied.

"Then it is..." he uttered.

"She is yours," Persephone said. He smiled and hugged her.

"This is wonderful!" he exclaimed, but noticed her sadness.

"Isn't it?" he asked.

"She will be born in the winter," said said fearfully and he frowned.

"When you're in the Underworld," he replied, as he watched her shoulders rack with sobs.

"She'll be in so much danger. Hades will kill her in his jealousy and rage," she cried.

"Then you cannot go back there," Elijah stated.

"The consequences of crossing Hades are dire," she warned.

"I love you and I'll not abandon you or our child," he insisted, as he started to dress.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To tell my sister. She may have married for the good of the Kingdom, but I am going to be with the one I love. I'm sure that Princess in the southern isles can find another prince," he commented.

"Then I'll return in a day's time," he said, as he kissed her passionately.

"I'll be waiting and I'm sure mother will know how to help us," she replied, as she watched him ride off. Persephone put her hand to her belly and then hurried off to find her mother.

From the Underworld, Hades observed the entire exchange and shook with rage, as his hair ignited with blue flames.

"I'm afraid that's not going to be a happy reunion, my dear Persephone," he hissed.

"So...she knows. The Savior knows about everything?" Jefferson asked.

"If she remembers all her time spent in the dreamscape like I do, then yes," David replied. Jefferson chuckled.

"And the Queen has no clue who she really is. This is unexpected," he said.

"Yet, but it probably won't take her long to figure it out. Can you...tell me about Snow?" David asked tentatively. Jefferson sighed.

"You sure you want to know?" he asked.

"Of course," David insisted.

"Well, in Storybrooke, Snow White is Mary Margaret Blanchard. She teaches fifth grade. But her personal life...is pretty lonely. The curse pretty much strips away every good trait in a person and brings out their weaknesses. As a result, Mary Margaret is sweet, but very meek. Regina delights in her misery," Jefferson informed. David clenched his fist and noticed his trepidation.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm not sure I should tell you," Jefferson replied.

"You must...I need to know everything. If we want our families back, then we need to work together," David said. He sighed.

"Do you remember Deimos?" Jefferson asked. He watched the Prince go rigid and clench his fists.

"You mean son of Ares and former immortal that hunted and stalked my wife?" David growled.

"The same. And tried to kill you on multiple occasions, yes, that's him," Jefferson said.

"Don't tell me he's here?" David lamented.

"Unfortunately, he is and he doesn't have his memories, but he's still infatuated with your wife. He stalks and pressures Mary Margaret on a weekly basis. He gets stopped by the Sheriff and never goes further than talking to her. But with time moving again...he might get more brazen," Jefferson warned.

"That's not possible! We killed him! I watched Red rip him apart," David growled.

"He survived somehow. I don't know how, but he was a God before Zeus punished him for trying to overthrow him in Hades' favor. Regardless of him, I think we need to team up with a certain someone else," Jefferson said. David sighed.

"You can't mean..." he started to say.

"He wants the curse broken as much as we do. Not to mention that he knows all the inner workings of the curse," Jefferson insisted.

"But he's the Dark One..." David said.

"He is and right now, he's content to sit back and let your daughter fulfill her destiny, even if takes months. But I know something that will make him want to speed up the process and make Regina pay," Jefferson replied.

"And that would be?" David asked.

"The woman he loves," the Hatter replied.

"But...he said she was dead," David protested.

"He thinks she is...but she's not," Jefferson replied, as recognition flashed in the prince's eyes.

"Regina..." he said.

"Lied to him about killing her. She's had her locked up in the hospital psych ward for the past twenty-eight years," Jefferson said.

"And he has no idea?" David asked.

"Not until tonight when I clued him in. If the three of us team up against Regina and with your daughter on our side, she'll finally pay for all the misery she's caused. But for now, you need to get back to the hospital. They have an all out search going for you," Jefferson explained.

"What am I supposed to do at the hospital?" David asked.

"Act like you have no memories. Regina will probably try to come up with some fake life for you. But she can't force it on you if you don't let her. If your daughter really does know you, then I suspect she'll go toe to toe with the Mayor. At the same time, you can sweep Mary Margaret off her feet. She visited John Doe every day in the hospital," he mentioned. David allowed himself a smile. Even Regina's stupid curse couldn't erase their feelings.

"Oh, I plan to. But what about Deimos? I'm guessing he's someone of importance in town?" David asked. Jefferson chuckled.

"Get ready to be sick to your stomach then, because he runs the sleaziest tavern in town. He's dripping in money, probably because he's also running who knows what kinds of dealings from the club, unchecked, of course. The place is down by the cannery and is called Vertigo," Jefferson explained.

"So basically he hasn't changed at all. He's the sick, twisted degenerate he always was," David said.

"Here he goes by Damon Tromera," Jefferson said.

"Fitting name for a blood sucker that's obsessed with my wife," David quipped. He nodded.

"We should get to the hospital," Jefferson said. He nodded.

"Time to get my wife back," David said.

"She's not exactly your wife. You need to remember that," the Hatter warned.

"You don't know Snow. She's in there and I will find her. I will always find her, even if that means getting her fall in love with me all over again," the prince said.

Mary Margaret trekked through the woods furiously, kind of surprising herself. She had never been one to venture into the woods that surrounded Storybrooke, but she found herself to be surprisingly adept at finding her way through. It seemed funny to her. In her life in town, she seemed almost to literally stumble through her life. And here she was, navigating the darkened forest like some kind of pro.

But when she came face to face with John Doe at the Toll Bridge, she could hardly believe it and they seemed to stare at each other for the longest time.

"Oh my God, Emma...I found him!" she called, as she found herself rushing to him. He smiled at her, soaking in the vision of beauty she was.

"You found me," he agreed.

"We were so worried!" she exclaimed.

"I'm sorry for that. I...guess I woke up and got a little confused. I'm afraid I have no idea where I am...or who I am for that matter," he told her. He hoped Jefferson was right about acting like he didn't know who he was.

But then he recalled Emma telling him that she had been laughed at when she was a child when she told people that her parents were Snow White and Prince Charming. For some reason, in this strange world, they were just fictional beings. So telling people that he was Prince Charming probably wouldn't do him any favors.

"It's okay...but we should really get you back to the hospital," she said. He smiled at her.

"I'm glad you found me. You probably saved me," he replied, enjoying her blush.

"I don't know about that," she stammered, as she tripped and yelped, as she started fall. But strong arms stopped her from taking a nasty tumble and she gazed up at him breathlessly, as he held her close.

"I...I guess I'm not the only one doing the saving," she mentioned. He smiled.

"Guess not," he agreed, as a blonde blur arrived and Charming finally lay eyes on his grown daughter. Sure, he saw her every night in the dreamscape. But somehow, seeing her like this was different and he found himself looking at her in awe.

"There you are!" she said in relief.

"Yeah...she found me, even though I don't even know her name yet," he replied.

"Oh...I'm Mary...Mary Margaret," she stammered. He smiled.

"It's wonderful to meet you Mary. I wish I could tell you my name, but I'm afraid I'm drawing a blank at the moment," he replied. Emma locked eyes with him and they were not the eyes of a confused man. They were the same eyes she saw every night in the dreamscape. Her father was awake...in more way than one.

It didn't take them long to get back to the hospital and the nurses quickly swarmed around him, insisting that they take him to the exam room to run some tests. He had no idea what any of that meant, but a nod from Mary and Emma told him he should do as they said for now. He could barely tear his gaze away from Mary Margaret. She was still his wife, but Jefferson was right. She seemed so unsure of herself and too timid, definitely not like Snow at all. It didn't matter though. She was still Snow, just buried behind a wealth of insecurities projected upon her by the Queen. He thought about what Jefferson said before. As hesitant as he was about teaming up with Rumplestiltskin before, now he knew that if he was going to get his family back that he needed his kind of help.

Mary Margaret twirled her ring nervously, as Emma talked with Graham. She waited anxiously to hear if John Doe was okay. He seemed fine, but the man had been in a coma for a very long time. She prayed there was no lasting damage because of that. She had no idea why she cared so much though. She didn't know him, not really. Why did he matter so much to her? She felt so drawn to him and decided she didn't care about the why. She just wanted to see him again and was going to venture down the hall to find him. But she was halted by a hand on her arm.

"Miss Blanchard...how lovely to run into you here," Damon Tromera leered and Mary felt her entire body tense with unease. He was a tall, dark haired man with chiseled features. But his eyes had always made Mary shiver in fear, for they were so cold, almost dead. He was the creepiest man she had ever known, especially when he looked at her like he was now, like he wanted to take a bite out of her.

"Oh...Mr. Tromera," she said, trying to pull her arm away.

"So formal Mary...I really wish you'd call me Damon," he said, as his eyes skated over her.

"Um...I need to go," she stammered.

"Why such a rush? I'd love it if you'd join me for a cup of coffee," he said.

"I don't think so," she replied.

"Mary...why must you always turn me down? It's bordering on rude, you know," he said arrogantly.

"I ask you out repeatedly and you say no. I send you all those lovely roses on a weekly basis and yet you still refuse me," he said and before Mary knew it, he had backed her into a corner.

"Please Mr. Tromera...I'm just not interested. It's nothing personal..." she stammered, barely able to make eye contact when he frightened her more by lifting her chin to force her to look at him. His eyes sent cold shivers down her spine and she shuddered, which only made him smirk smugly.

"You don't like the roses?" he hissed.

"Considering that I prick myself on the thorns every week, no they're not my favorite..." she blurted out and he chuckled at that.

"A lucky thorn it is that has the pleasure of drawing your blood," he leered. It was by far the creepiest comment she had ever heard and she had never wanted to get away from someone more than she did now.

"Perhaps you'd prefer daisies...or violets then?" he asked.

"N...no...I just want to go," she said, her breathing now coming in ragged gasps, as he pressed closer to her. Her head felt like it was on fire now, like someone was screaming at her from inside. It was crazy, but she felt sudden violent urges telling her to fight. It was disturbing, for she had never fought anyone in her life, much less someone as large as him.

"One date Miss Blanchard...and I promise you'll fall for me," he pressured. A tear slipped down her cheek. Maybe if she agreed, he'd leave her alone. But the fire in her head intensified at that thought. No...if she gave in, he'd never stop and he would hurt her. She could feel it. This man wanted to hurt her.

"No," she said more clearly. But he didn't stop and as he leaned in to force his lips onto hers, she listened to the fire inside her and kneed him between the legs. He doubled over in pain and glared at her.

"That was a mistake, Miss Blanchard. I guess you need a lesson on why," he growled, as he raised his hand to her. She gasped, but a voice stopped him.

"HEY!"

Mary looked behind Damon and saw that her rescuer was none other than John Doe himself.

"This is none of your concern, pretty boy," Damon growled.

"She said no and you seem to have a hearing problem. Get away from her," Charming growled, barely containing his rage at the moment. Damon stared him down and slowly backed down.

"Good evening, Miss Blanchard," he said, as he left quickly, just as he saw the Sheriff coming toward them.

"Are you okay?" Charming asked, as Mary stared at him with captivation.

"I...thanks to you," she uttered.

"That's two rescues you have to my one now," she commented. He could only smile at her and soak her up.

"I'm just glad I was here. I may not know who I am, but I know that the man that was just here was dangerous," he said.

"He just really wants me to go out with him and I'm sorry, it must be terribly confusing to not know who you are," she replied.

"It is, but there is one thing I do remember," he countered.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Your voice," he replied and she blushed under his charming smile, as they became absorbed in each other's gazes.

"Well, Mr. Doe, it seems that the doctor wants to see that you're taken back to your room," Graham said, though David recognized him as the Huntsman that had once saved both his and Snow's lives. He spared a glance at Emma and seeing her like this nearly took his breath away. His baby girl, all grown up and so incredibly beautiful and strong.

"I'm...sorry I worried everyone when I wandered off. I got a little confused and wandered off. Fortunately, Jefferson found me when I wandered onto his property and helped me back here," Charming said, gesturing to the man, who leaned against the wall casually. Jefferson waved, a bored look on his face, just as Dr. Whale arrived. He was someone David didn't recognize.

"Mr. Nolan...I believe it is. You gave us quite a scare," Dr. Whale said.

"Mr. Nolan?" David asked in confusion.

"Yes, we have it on good authority that you are David Nolan. Does that ring any bells?" Whale asked.

"Can't say that it does," David replied.

"Well, be that as it may, I'd like to give you a full exam myself. The tests all came back normal, but I'm not fond of my patients wandering off," Whale said irritably.

"For a doctor, your bedside manner is seriously lacking," Jefferson commented.

"And you are?" Whale asked.

"My friend," David answered. And the doctor noticed that he was still holding hands with Miss Blanchard. It figured. Mary Margaret had visited this man almost every day he was in his coma, despite claiming not to know him. It irked him, if for no other reason than he didn't like the fact that he couldn't compete with a man that was comatose until just a few hours ago in her eyes. She would have been a nice notch on his bedpost.

"Please Mr. Nolan, I'd really like to examine you," Whale pleaded. He nodded and looked at Mary Margaret.

"Will you still be here when I'm done?" he asked. She nodded, probably too eagerly, but wild horses couldn't drag her away at this point. He smiled and he reluctantly let go of her hand, following Whale back into the stuffy hospital room.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #snowing fanfiction #AU #Emma Swan

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jeremystrele · 6 years

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An Artist’s Bohemian Abode + Church Studio In Rural NSW

Creative People

Robyn Lea

Melbourne photographer Robyn Lea‘s new book, Bohemian Living, is out next month. Photo – Robyn Lea.

From the pages of Bohemian Living, the 1873 build Georgian cottage of artist Luke Sciberras. Photo – Robyn Lea.

The scenery around Luke’s home in Hill End, NSW. Photo – Robyn Lea.

The nearby former-church which is now Lukes studio. Photo – Robyn Lea.

Studio details. Photo – Robyn Lea.

The House At Hill End

‘The sense of home, to me, is very, very precious,’ says artist Luke Sciberras. ‘It’s paramount to the feeling of having a springboard, like having an embracing family that supports you. Whichever direction my work in the studio takes me, I can use the colour and content of this place to feel the energy that it needs.

On first impressions, Luke’s home and studio exude an eclectic and multi-layered ramshackle feel, but it becomes apparent over time that he carefully curates everything into a series of still lifes. A tableau of garden flowers in various stages of decay sits on the dining table, and dozens of artworks and handcrafted objects fill the room like clues to private memories and intimate encounters. ‘Everything around me has to have a reason to be here. I can tell you a story about every object,’ he says.

His home is located in the small town of Hill End, a few hours north-west of Sydney, over the Blue Mountains… Hill End was once a booming gold mining town of 10,000 people, thanks in part to the 1872 discovery of a 3000-ounce gold nugget. Today, it has a population of fewer than 200 people. Luke first visited as an art student in 1997. He went with a group of classmates and lecturers from Sydney Technical College (now known as the National Art School), having seen the 1995 Artists of Hill End exhibition at the Art Gallery of NSW. He set off on the excursion inland with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. It was a rite of passage for the young artists. They were following in the footsteps of several generations of Australian artists before them, including John Olsen, Brett Whitely, Jeffrey Smart and Margaret Olley. Luke was captivated…

Luke settled permanently in Hill End in 2000 with his former wife, artist Gria Shead, and their daughter, Stella. He remembers the moment he saw their house for the first time. ‘I stood at the gate, looked up the front path of the house and there was a full rainbow arching right over it! I knew that minute that it was mine.’ The 1873 Georgian cottage was constructed with a combination of saplings and mud, using an ancient composite technique known as wattle and daub. ‘It was a nicely proportioned cottage that had a checkered history, and I felt happy to add a new chapter.’ The building was surrounded by an overgrowth of swaying grasses and had been unoccupied for a long time. The only signs of its former life were a large apricot tree in the front yard and a thriving lemon tree out the back.

Luke and Gria bought the house and later leased a nearby stone church to use as a shared studio. ‘It was very run down, completely derelict, but we thought it would be good because it’s close to the house. ‘The bishop ‘came in with his robes and crosses’ to deconsecrate and thank the building before handing it over its care to the artists. Resident swallows and rabbits moved to new quarters, along with the church pews, bibles, and doilies. Crumbling windows were replaced and walls were replastered. In 2009, Luke bought the building.

The expansive space makes an ideal studio for multiple easels, allowing him to move easily between a number of works in progress. Luke has populated the space with his collections of bones, books, sculpture, skulls and stones. ‘In the studio, there are objects that I have a very strong attachment to, not in any materialistic sense, but they are sentimental. And looking at an object from somewhere I have been is as evocative as looking at a drawing or a photograph. There’s a story in everything and what I do is tell stories.’

The interiors of both his home and studio are crucial to his state of mind. ‘I can’t relax in a sterile environment. It makes me depressed. it makes me sad. It doesn’t have to be lavish or pretentious, but if there is care then you can feel it.’ He may have inherited this aspect of his character from his mother, who has always had a deep interest in art and interiors. He remembers his own childhood bedroom fondly, describing it as ‘actually rather like a museum. I always collected fossils and geological items of interest as well as birds and fragments of dead animals. My room was kind of weird. My mother has very good taste, but my own room was always like the Addams Family wing of the house.

As a teenager, Luke became a fixture in the homes and studios of artists who live in nearby Wedderburn, south of Sydney. ‘There was a group of artists there: John Peart, Elisabeth Cummings, Suzanne Archer and David Fairbairn. They had a wonderful flair and freedom that I really responded to. It’s funny how you sort of slip into a tribe of people who you find an immediate affinity with.’ Elisabeth gave him private drawing lessons, and they used to go up on the roof of her house to draw. A tender portrait of 17-year-old Luke, painted by Elisabeth, now hangs on his dining room wall. Elisabeth also encouraged Luke to attend art school in Sydney, and he has since found his place in the long tradition of Australian landscape painters…

Luke’s residencies and art adventures have taken him around the world and deep into the Australian landscape. But he always loves coming home. He talks about the process of painting the way a chef might desirable a new dish, using myriad sensory and intuitive decisions. ‘When you are making a painting, you are making bodily decisions. It might just be the flip of a knife moving across a couple of colours, and it might be the tone, or the temperature of a colour that you can add to a painting in dozens of different ways. It could be a runny glaze, the consistency of red cordial, or thick and creamy like blobs of sour cream. There are so many ingredients and techniques, rather like cooking.’

Unsurprisingly Luke is also a passionate cook. his kitchen and studio feel like two separate chambers of the same heart. His cooking inspires his painting, and the colours, texture and pleasures of painting inspire what he creates in the kitchen. Plucked chickens, freshly caught squid, the animal bones and hooves are the subjects of the paintings that adorn the kitchen walls along with a handsome collection of old pots, pans, iron spoons, forks and knives.

…

Despite the isolation of Hill End, Luke Sciberras never wants for company. Whether passing the time with Gria and Stella when they come from Sydney; spending the afternoon at the pub surrounded by a dozen locals, or cooking for visiting artist friends, the offerings from his garden and kitchen will continue to be as abundant as his social life. Similarly, his artwork will keep feeding those who are hungry for the magic of the Australian landscape.

Read the full chapter (of which we’ve only published a summarised excerpt here) in Robyn Lea’s Bohemian Living, out this October, and published by Thames & Hudson.

Luke’s kitchen, as featured in Bohemian Living, out October. Photo – Robyn Lea.

Q&A WITH THE AUTHOR

When Robyn Lea set out on a new project in 2017, she thought she was going to create a book about artistic and unconventional homes around the world. However, as she was welcomed into the homes of complete strangers and began to unravel their storied interiors, deeper themes emerged. She found the spaces were more than simply attractive to the people who created them, they were vital to their creative expression and the result of a journey from unusual childhoods to often unorthodox adult worlds.

Published by the Wall Street Journal, Elle London and Vogue Italia amongst others, Robyn is an incredible photographer, and as you will also find from the excerpt below, a brilliant storyteller. She took a few moments to tell us more, ahead of the release of Bohemian Living: Creative Homes Around The World, her first book for an Australian publisher.

How did the idea for THIS book come about?

Kirsten Abbott from Thames & Hudson approached me with the idea for this book in late 2016 and I began to work on it in 2017. The idea of Bohemian Living resonated with me instantly, because when I was growing up in regional Victoria, I spent many pivotal moments with an artist couple, Sara and John Benn, who lived in the most liberated and creative way imaginable. In some ways, this project felt like an extension of their influence, which still holds great meaning for me today.

Many of the creative thinkers and practitioners in this book epitomise a bohemian outlook. Whether consciously or not, they are not imprisoned by others’ expectations, which liberates them to follow often unconventional paths.

In your introduction, you mention it was initially going to be a book ‘about artistic and unconventional homes around the world’ however deeper themes began to emerge…

One of the common themes that emerged during the course of creating this book, was that for many of the artists, building a beautiful private world was essential to their emotional well being. There was nothing superficial about their decorating choices.

One artist mentioned that without beauty and creativity, she would quickly become depressed. Another said she would die if she was made to live in a white space with lots of plastic. Art in this context is like a lifeline, like fuel in the tank, and for some, it even provides a compelling reason to get up every morning.

You also identify the relationship between self and space is a pivotal theme; what did you discover?

The relationship between self and space in this book is a central and important theme. It is as though the space/home itself is a living, breathing, evolving life-form which talks, without words, to its inhabitants in powerful ways. Each home is like a friend, or a mirror, which provides a constant nurturing dialogue – a positive loop, which feeds the creator and helps them define themselves. Many of these artists have created environments that help them think, work, feel and even sleep better.

Your intriguing subjects are linked by a shared ‘rejection of mass-produced objects and furniture in favour of idiosyncratic décor and unique pieces’. We find ourselves both purposefully and even inadvertently championing this too. Why do you think the preference is so prevalent, and do you think it is becoming more so in recent years?

It is no secret that as human beings we share a need and a yearning for connection to others and to nature, and a desire to understand ourselves. The more that machines are able to mass-produce objects and furniture, the more we seem want to make things for ourselves. For example, holding a hand-made mug with its tiny imperfections speaks of history, of human hands, and of the creative process. It’s imbued with the meaning that sometimes feels lacking in today’s world. In a similar way, the more people accumulate online friends on a global stage, the greater the excitement at being invited to the homes of real friends. It is in these private domains that we can enjoy one of today’s true and rare luxuries – being together with people we care about, in an environment that is steeped in personality and meaning.

To balance a world that seems to spin more quickly than ever, home has become a refuge, and for many in this book, a place of utter joy and unfettered self-expression. Each object or piece of furniture in these homes is like a handwritten line in a private diary. It helps form an intimate story, and like a set of hieroglyphic symbols, it appeals to those who speak the same language. Like the slow-cooking movement, this book is about the slow home – places that have evolved over many years. They can’t be thrown together without time, love and feeling, and the results are inimitable.

Next, Robyn Lea will be working on new books and an exhibition! Follow her adventures here.

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