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camdentown-library · 3 years

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The flames in your eyes || ENG ver. Ethan Torchio x reader

❝ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚.

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. ❞

Genre: Fluff ;; romantic ;; slowburn

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x fem!reader

Warning: English is not my native language, I may have made grammatical errors. do not hesitate to correct me

N / A: The facts told are purely the fruit of my imagination, it is not my intention to do any wrong to any person mentioned, and above all the character of Ethan could (surely) not reflect the person in reality.

Happy reading to you all!

CHAPTER 1

The first rays of July had cast on the roofs of the houses in Rome, giving the off-white plaster and rosy tiles a golden sheen that tasted like honey. The wisteria were in bloom, as was the medlar tree under Marlena's house; the scent of life in the full act of her cycle, always knocked on her dining room window, filling it with sweet fragrances.

The girl used to take her place at the table during the late morning hours, surrounded by books and tomes quite old and gnawed by the dust, with the good resolution that even that day she would read and study those very boring pages of that equally boring examination. of Egyptology. The university summer session had already begun, she had just taken a couple of exams last June and was now preparing two more that she would take in the first weeks of September.

That time could seem apparently short, Marlena didn't care that much, what could ever distract her from her work? She had no friends, and by now, even though she had crossed the threshold of 21 years in the autumn, the girl was now completely extinct her naive youth, as well as her desire to laze.

The out of tune and unexpected sound of the intercom triggered her head bent over the books of the young woman, who after having heaved a sigh perhaps a little annoyed, she decided to get up from her chair, leave the dining room and cross the wide and not too long corridor in the shape of an "L" of his apartment, finally arriving at a brisk pace towards the device it had croaked in order to answer.

"Yes?" she asked quite firmly but not too cordially.

"I'm the postman, will you open me?" answered a stranger, as she pushed the button to open the gate.

Marlena therefore opened the heavy old door of her house, remaining patient to wait for the man to arrive at the door. Although she had lived in that condominium with her father for as long as she remembered it, she had not yet found a rational explanation for its lack of mailboxes. Was it because it was a palace built in the 1920s? Well that would explain the absence of an elevator as well, but a damn mailbox wouldn't be hard to add.

The man's gasping breath brought her back to reality as her eyes saw him peeking from the flight of stairs. Was he already that tired after not even crossing the second floor? The young woman wondered a little disappointed.

"Are you Madam Levavi?" the postman then asked, catching his breath and rummaging through her purse. Marlena wrinkled her nose instinctively.

"Ahm ... not madam, I'm her daughter" she replied shaking her head, what could that postman ever care if she was "miss" or "madam"? The girl lightly bit the inside of her cheek as a reproach.

"Here you are. How many floors are there still?" She asked the man wiping her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief after giving her the mail.

"Two more ..." Marlena replied disinterestedly as she closed the door, observing her letters.

Bills for electricity, water, the tax to be paid for the next university year and ... a letter?

Well, it certainly wasn't sent by her father...

The girl looked at the text of that letter once more, rereading it and rereading it several times, wrapped in a silence that was probably inherent in memories that clouded her common sense, while slowly after taking a few steps back, she gently placed her back to the wall.

"Dear Marlena,

I know perfectly well that it might have been easier to call you, but you know I've always enjoyed writing you letters.

Unfortunately I noticed that in the last few I sent you you didn't answer, I guess it's because the university keeps you very busy ...

However, I learned that your father is out of Italy on a business trip and he will be away until the end of August; It seemed only right to invite you to spend these last months of summer in our house outside the city.

I know that since your mom left, you haven't had the desire to visit us anymore, but I think it would do you good to change the air for a while. The place is quiet, there is the sea and also a large and extensive countryside with a pine forest and the locals are really friendly and helpful.

You can also bring Lapo if you want, I know you are very close.

Either way, let me know your verdict.

A strong hug.

Grandmother Agata.”

She had distant memories of that house, distant but still happy. He remembered when he woke up early in the morning with grandmother Agata and grandfather Laertes to be able to go to the sea and his little hands while looking for hermit crabs and shells on the shore, as he remembered the music in the square and the laughter echoing in the same way as the bells of the church on Sunday, everyone was happy ... and life seemed to be less unfair to those who deserved it less, it tasted like jam and fruit jellies, salt on the lips and bees flying.

Marlena's chest swelled with air, as if she had been holding her breath until then...perhaps because diving into one's childhood was like floundering in a stormy sea pretending to stay afloat.

The cheerful barking of her dog Lapo brought the young woman back to the present, who decided to place the letters on a window sill not far from the front door and set off together with the playful animal towards the kitchen. Lapo was a nice Bernese Mountain Dog, with a black, brown and white coat. It had been given to her five years ago, perhaps because her father had sensed that even his absence had created in the heart of his only daughter, a sense of distressing loneliness, which had consumed her to the bone making her totally apathetic for certain verses.

But Lapo, Lapo had saved her from her, with Lapo she spoke and shared gestures of affection, such as caresses and little licks between her fingers and hair. Sometimes Marlena fell asleep in her bed, with the bulky dog on her, because feeling her warm and humid breath on her blankets reminded her in her sleep that she was not alone in the dark of the night. As long as Lapo's heart had beaten the young girl she was not afraid of having to wake up or sleep.

Although she tried to convince herself that staying in her comfort zone would be easier than answering "yes" to her grandmother's request, a part of her was again attracting her to that letter; her gaze was captured by the horizon of her mind, while in the distance she could almost hear the sounds and flavors of a place almost too fairytale to be part of the material world.

"I know I should answer..." she murmured as she was intent on washing the peel of a red apple in the kitchen sink. Meanwhile the dog sat up looking at her intensely while she wagged his tail waiting for her.

"...It's just that, that place...and then I should finish studying, I have an exam to take at the end of the summer, Lapo" but the dog tilted his head in disappointment and then got up and trotted out of the room, looking for of who knows what amusement, leaving Marlena to her thoughts, as she bit into the freshly dried fruit with the kitchen towel.

All of this would only be for a little over a month and a half, just a month and a half and then she would leave it all behind her again, as she did a long time ago.

“Hello grandma. I'm Marlena..."

Marlena after putting the letter back next to her bedside table, she grabbed the cell phone not far away and typed some numbers on the screen, not too convincingly, and then brought the object to her ear.

There were those ten seconds of waiting that seemed the stroke of half a century, until a voice said "Hello?".

Marlena had brought two large bags with her. One for clothes and the other full of junk such as: books, objects for the dog, tricks and everything that for her mind, not so familiar with travel, she considered indispensable. She was not so convinced that both of them would enter the trunk, but the exemplary ability to know how to adapt and make do with her grandfather always left her with amazement on the edge of her lips.

It took two days before grandfather Laerte's small and overly backward FIAT Punto made its peerless entrance next to the bottle-green gate of the small cloister of the Marlena palace.

The man had taken more or less ten minutes just to park, the niece had wondered how long it would take him to get there and start again.

The young woman was sitting in the back seats, together with Lapo. She held in her hands a small bunch of tulips that Laertes had brought her, made by herself. He said to her:

"I went for a walk in the countryside and tried to capture the most beautiful of all, like my granddaughter!" followed by a proud, croaking laugh. Laertes had always been a proud and incurable romantic, without ever giving up some of her drama, grandmother Agata did nothing but remind her of it in her letters.

Like when Marlena pointed out to him, that the steering wheel of the car was too damaged for the latter to be considered in accordance with the law, but he had always replied that a good soldier and partisan would appeal to his driving experience and a little 'of elbow grease, in order to be sure that the itinerary of the journey would be peaceful and without unpleasant hitches.

Lapo let out an enthusiastic bark when the croaking car left the endless concrete of the highway behind, and then took a narrow, winding, uphill road that would have led them to the small town.

Her gaze stared blankly at what was running, like tape in a movie camera, out the window; She saw the buildings of the city become less present, as well as the stench of smog, then there was a long stretch of highway, immersed in the wheat fields and every now and then some small farm or spare parts industry or other jobs would emerge.

In the car there would have been complete silence, had it not been for the old radio which played an entire disc of all of Lucio Dalla's masterpieces; Marlena's grandfather liked that singer, but not in the same way chatting while driving, because according to him it would have increased the chances of road accidents by 50%, and frankly, the granddaughter didn't mind at all this acknowledgment ... she didn't even know where she should have started and however much her relatives tried to make her feel at ease, she imagined herself as a stranger, a stranger, who had knocked on their door and was now just trying to learn and remember their common manners.

"If you look to the right you will see the sea, Marlena" Laertes informed her, while he struggled with the steering wheel at every bend, but he did not dare to make even a moan under stress. The girl decided to accept those words, and looking out (after rolling down the window) a crisp air of salt pervaded her nostrils like the balm of a mint. Her eyes tried to show as little as possible the defeat of an amazement that had overwhelmed her like a raging wave, making her heart pound.

The sea. Marlena loved the sea. And for a few moments she was wondering what she had forced her to shut up in the house all that time, but then her mind went back to static and clear. She knew why, and there was no other reason to get her back together, even if it was difficult.

Yet there seemed to be few people around the streets, perhaps because at that time anyone with a minimum of wit would have holed up in the cool four walls of their home, just to escape the scorching heat that did not yield until the stroke of five in the afternoon .

By now it was almost two in the afternoon when Laertes' car passed the threshold of the square of the small town, while the attentive (even if apparently lost) gaze of his granddaughter observed everything in detail.

Nothing seems to have changed in that place since the last one who went there. The street was always covered with the usual, old and coarse slabs of white stone and eroded by the weather, as well as the various shops that surrounded the square and the small houses side by side, glazed with a fresh off-white plaster and dark brown roofs, the fountain in the center, and the small restaurant with its balcony overlooking the long pine forest that extended at the foot of the modest hill that supported the town.

A jolt suddenly shook Marlena, when her grandfather decided to pull over and pull up the handbrake of his FIAT, thus causing a slight recoil unexpectedly enough to suddenly wake the girl from her thoughts. She cleared her throat, while she opened her door, so that Lapo could finally trot and wag his tail excitedly around, on the other hand she didn't blame him, it must have been hard for a dog to stay good in the car for so many hours.

"Here we are!" proclaimed the elderly man putting the car keys in his pocket and then ring the bell of the small house next to FIAT "Your grandmother will be so happy to see you, I bet she will have prepared ciambelle with red wine to celebrate your reunion" he added while he waited for the woman he mentioned to open to him, already anticipating on his lips the pungent and sweet taste of those sweets he loved so much.

"So I suppose you made at least thirty" commented the young woman ironically, as she dragged out the two bags with extreme difficulty, attracting the attention of Laertes who, hastily adjusting his frizzy white hair, hastened to reach his niece to give her your support.

“Ah don't worry, kid. I'll take care of it, maybe you can ring the door, your grandmother has now gone deaf as a bell...” he said as he gave a slight snort and then muttered something.

"C’mon, grandpa" Marlena replied then raising her eyes to the sky trying not to smile, how melodramatic could that man be?

After pressing her finger on the bell again, the girl waited for someone to answer and hearing the approach of some quick steps together with the rubbing of flip-flops on the floor, made her realize that Agata had finally heard their arrival. Marlena did not even have time to greet the elderly lady, who took her in her arms, wrapping her in an embrace that caught her unprepared and to which she did not respond immediately.

“Oh my love! I’m so happy to see you again! But look how you have grown! It seems only yesterday when you reached mid-thigh and now...” the hands a little gnarled, but from the soft fingertips of the woman, gently took the face of her niece like a cup, as if to feel if her presence was only fantasy or reality "...You are a woman to all intents and purposes" she whispered and then fussed with kisses all over her face, while Marlena whining pretending to be somehow annoyed.

After climbing a short flight of stairs that led to the house located on the upper floor, the girl's nostrils and consciousness were flooded with memories and sensations already savored. She observed the now old floor of the house, granite tiles that alternated with one hand painted and another not; Marlena rejoiced with a touch of amusement when she as a child she spent boring afternoons playing on them, jumping only on the decorated ones because according to her imagination those remains were made of incandescent lava.

The walls were always the same, covered with a light blue paint and slightly lumpy at times, she could feel it, when the index and middle fingers of her right hand absently brushed the surface.

The house of Marlena's grandparents was very simple and perhaps apparently a little cramped. Having opened the wooden entrance door, after having passed the landing and the stairs, she had in front of her a corridor that extended along to her right, thus marking the various doors of each room that the house gathered inside. Almost parallel to the entrance there was the kitchen door on the opposite wall, without doors, next to it the bathroom door, and then the door to the room of the two elderly spouses. At the end of the corridor there was a small balcony with the railing covered with hanging vases where, like a multicolored waterfall, a thick branching of coral red bucanville came out which, in addition to poetically letting itself fall from the small niche, climbed elegant and graceful on the handrail of the then hug the outside walls of the house.

Marlena took advantage of it, to be able to peep there, while she deeply breathed the fragrant and velvety scent of those petals, mixed with the sea breeze that came from beyond the pine forest that surrounded the town. She observed the small houses around her while if she winked she could distinguish the clear line of the flat and calm sea that merged in perfect alchemy with the clear sky on the horizon.

The young woman tried in every way to convince herself that that enchanted place, that little corner of paradise had never failed her...but she suddenly proclaimed herself foolish for having thought such a cynical thing in the least.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

#maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #imagine #imagines #chapter 1 #romantic #the flames in your eyes #ENG VERSION

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amoralto · 4 years

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In your recent post from Gloria Steinem’s “Beatle with a future,” do you know the “she” that Derek Taylor is referring to? Or is that supposed to be apple or the Beatles themselves or something? Who Paul didn’t officially say goodbye to? It seems revealing how John would say “nothing’s going to change Paul.” There’s so much there. Oh and one last thing, who was Ringo saying “always worrying about people” ? Idk why but it’s hard for me to tell who was talking to who here.

Re: the “friend from Philly” Derek Taylor refers to, it’s not specified. Somebody better-versed in fan/groupie/Beatlemania-era dalliance stories may be able to connect the dots, but as far as Steinem describes it she was merely one of a few girls who’d met the band while they were in Philadelphia (September 2nd) and had now followed the band to their engagement in New York (September 20th) holding a charity concert for the United Cerebral Palsy Fund at the Paramount, their last gig on the US tour before returning to England to record Beatles For Sale. Here’s all the appearances she and the other girls from Philadelphia make in Steinem’s article:

It was time for The Beatles’ performance. Everyone crowded into the hall, looking expectantly at the room in which The Beatles had been “incommunicado” and “resting,” the same room into which I had seen Ed Sullivan disappear. Paul McCartney came out first, looking soft-faced and vulnerable as a choirboy. George Harrison and Ringo Starr followed animated and laughing. John Lennon moved quickly behind them, but his face was stoic and aloof behind his dark glasses (the face that inspired a London journalist to write, “It has the fear-neither-God-nor-man quality of a Renaissance painter’s aristocrat”). Behind Lennon came three chic young girls, two brunettes and a blonde, in their late teens or early twenties. McCartney jerked his head toward them as he got in the elevator and told some of his staff members to “look after the birds now, won’t ya.”

[...]

The Beatles’ entourage crowded together in the wings, and I talked to the birds. Were they working for The Beatles or interviewing them? No, they were just friends. “We met The Beatles at a press conference in Philadelphia,” said the pretty blonde, “that’s where we’re from.” Two of them wore wool suits with short culotte skirts. They all looked as if they had stepped from the pages of a teenage fashion magazine, and one carried a met them,” corrected the friendly blonde, “and this time we brought along a friend.”

The girls were simply left to sit in an adjoining room apart from Steinem, John, and Ringo, with both Paul and George in their own rooms presumably sleeping:

The Beatles were leaving for London early the next morning. That, plus the fact that several Manhattan hotels had turned them down, brought them to the Riviera Motor Inn at Kennedy Airport. The rooms were small, barely big enough for a bureau, twin beds and a television set but they had commandeered a whole floor and there were policemen guarding the halls. Our room was jammed with carts of Scotch and Coca-Cola, trays of sandwiches and two photographers, the young ladies from Philadelphia, a tall girl who had followed The Beatles from San Francisco, several journalists who had been on the Beatle tour, a pretty airline stewardess in a very lowcut dress who was acting as hostess, and, occasionally, Neil Aspinall and Derek Taylor. Two of The Beatles were in other rooms, but Ringo Starr and Lennon were in the one adjoining us with the door locked. It was opened only to admit Aspinall, Taylor, one or two other selected young men and liquor.

And at the end of the article:

I thanked Lennon, who looked worried, and said, “I hope you’re as true as you seem.” I said goodbye to the three birds who still sat in the adjoining room. Two were stretched out on the bed and a third was applying eye shadow. (“Women,” Lennon had once told a reporter, “should be obscene and not heard.”) They smiled their Mona Lisa smiles.

The “charity” concert itself was a point of consternation for the band (think Embassy-level feelings of exploitation, with the audience made up entirely of high society folk who could afford the exorbitant ticket prices and John saying they were treated “like animals”), and yet another thing in a cumulation of things they’d incurred over the past several months that had the band feeling exhausted and frustrated and even disillusioned with the unrelenting scrutiny and tabloid headlines and general mania surrounding them. Which may be why there’s a sense of distrust and weariness from John and Ringo that comes through in the article.

Add to that Derek Taylor ultimately resigning from his position as Brian Epstein’s assistant (a position he’d only held for about a year) from the stress and that triggering argument with Brian he’s confiding with Neil Aspinall and John about (which Brian would try to backtrack on, asking him to stay, to no avail), and just the random and curious fact that Bob Dylan and Albert Grossman were there in the room as well (which Steinem only gives a passing mention to; sleepless!John and Bob would later have breakfast together), it would seem Gloria Steinem had (albeit entirely unwittingly) caught the Beatles at a very intriguing point in time.

(I could go on more about Derek Taylor and how his emotional sensitivity/ego and issues with Brian Epstein (his management, his overprotectiveness of the boys leading to possible misattribution of blame, etc.) seems to prefigure his later issues with Paul and later serve as a bonding agent for him and John in mid-late-1968 (although John would still eventually cry betrayal, in typical gang leader fashion, when John interpreted Derek wanting to keep the Beatles together as “siding” with Paul against John), but I have another earlier ask I have to yet to reply to where that would be more pertinent for me to discuss it.)

Re: “nothing’s going to change Paul”, there’s definitely a lot to deconstruct and pick apart there, even if to the uneducated observer (Steinem) it comes across as just another “desultory” aside to pacify Derek, just as he tries to pacify Derek with the Brian issue (“He’s all right, but he doesn’t understand people having a few laughs, not even me laughs with me wife.”). Insert essay here.

Re: Ringo, I read it as him making a rueful comment on the situation in general, and therefore referring to both Derek and John. I could be wrong, though! The mileage varies.

I checked through @amoralto to see if I had posted/transcribed any interviews and such from around this time, and it turns out I have! Larry Kane’s with John and Ringo from Philadelphia (as it happens), with Ringo’s matter-of-factness with the tabloid trap they’re in (“I’ll have it on tape, I’ve been called a queer”) and John and Ringo talking about being the band being alone together (“One gets reliant on the others”).

Also, I’d be willing to post the entire Steinem article if anybody’s interested! Like I said, it’s an intriguing glimpse into the trauma of living through Beatlemania, something which still gets underplayed in the Beatles historiography - and also something I wish Ron Howard’s film could have focused on, instead of just shallow anecdotes by famous fans who went to see them in concert - and a worthwhile read, even if Steinem sometimes comes across as naive and even judgmental. She also unfortunately skews towards (if not wholly believes in) the popular, nigh-deleterious stereotypes of the Beatles (i.e. John as the Most Talented and Most Intelligent and Most Versatile - indeed, she sought out the Beatles specifically to talk to John in the first place) typical of many features/articles from the time (and which still unfortunately continues to this day).

#ask #1964 #gloria steinem #derek taylor #the beatles

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neriad13 · 3 years

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Favorite Media of 2020!

There was a large swathe of this year during which I was unable to concentrate on reading (as there probably was for a lot of other typically-frequent readers), so, as a result, I ended up listening to way more podcasts and watching way more TV shows. Not a bad thing, but boy did I read way less books than usual.

However, for the first time in a while, the amount of fiction I read was about equal with the amount of nonfiction I read. Last year’s reading resolution was to read more fiction, so...success??

I did read a lot of phenomenal fiction when I had the energy to do so this year.

Books - Fiction

The Martian - Andy Weir

This book is the hardest of the hard sci fi I think I’ve ever read. Every single aspect of it is minutely researched and calculated. The author literally wrote equations to write this book. The science is insanely impressive and yet...it never loses its sense of humor or humanity in the mix. In fact, they’re the thing that drives the entire story.

Warlock Holmes - G. S. Denning

Way early in the year I was strolling down the fantasy aisle at the library, when this cover caught my eye. I took one look at it, went “oh, this looks silly” and...proceeded to devour the entire series in a matter of weeks.

It is very silly. Especially when it’s pointing out something that was silly in the original. There’s something so satisfying about Watson immediately answering Holmes with the correct number of steps in their flat when he’s trying to make his point about how most people don’t pay attention to things like that.

World War Z - Max Brooks

Every single scenario in here could easily support an entire book. A park ranger whose job it is to contain the yearly zombie spring thaw? HECK YES. I’d read tens of thousands of words about that. A Chinese admiral who defaults, steals the government’s premier submarine, loads it up with the families of his underlings and takes to the sea for years to live in the maritime economy that has sprung up in a world where everyone is trying to escape the shore? That could be an entire movie on its own.

Every chapter was more creative than the last and as a huge worldbuilding fan, this book was so, so fun.

An Unkindness of Ghosts - Rivers Solomon

In which a queer, neurodivergent protagonist solves a mystery on a spaceship which is a microcosm of antebellum era politics! This had a beautiful, mysterious, wonder-inducing writing style and it was a joy to peer into the wildly differing minds of every single character.

Books - Nonfiction

Underland - Robert MacFarlane

In every chapter, the author visits a different hole. Basically.

It’s an exploration of caves, catacombs, mines, nuclear waste facilities and the hidden underbelly of every forest. It was fascinating. And fundamentally changed how I look at time.

Rejected Princesses - Jason Porath

After years of having enjoyed the web entries, I finally got my hands on the first book and was not disappointed.

There are the more entertaining entries, of course and the art is as charming as always, but what struck me the most were the more difficult stories. The deeper you go into this book, the more horrific it gets. The author does not hold back on the indignities suffered by the historical figures he writes about. It’s terrible...but also very, very illuminating.

The Gift of Fear - Gavin De Becker

This book - while maintaining all the essential information in it - could be pared down to one sentence in a sea of blank pages and that sentence would be: trust your instincts. End of story.

But in a world where instincts are either customarily suppressed or going haywire, it’s not quite that easy, which is why I’m glad there is more to the book.

I picked it up thinking “ha ha, betcha can’t help a person with anxiety who fears all the time already” and...what it actually ended up doing was giving me the tools to differentiate between real fear and unfounded fear. And did help with the anxiety quite a bit.

Fanfiction

Watch Over Me - cakeisatruth

A Bioshock fic from the point of view of a little sister who is learning how to trust and be an ordinary child again. Dark and sweet. An excellent combo.

All That is Visible - Ultima_Thule

An exploration of a minor character in a well researched historical context? That’s my jam! How did they know?? A Tron fic about what it’s like to be a female programmer in the 70s.

Graphic Novels

The Adventure Zone - McElroys + Carey Pietsch

Yesssssssss! It was a running-to-the-library type event whenever my library got a new volume in. The jokes are so good, the art is so lively and the ways in which they added the details that the podcast couldn’t necessarily get across is *mwah*

Trail of Blood - Shuuzou Oshimi

Hoooooooly shit, the art style of this one!! It’s beautifully detailed and expressive, sure, but the real draw for me was how it changes with the emotional state of the main character. There’s this sequence in which he’s consumed with anxiety at school and all of his classmates become blurry and unfocused, until they can’t be recognized as humans at all, that particularly sticks with me.

It’s a horror story about a kid who witnesses his loving mother push his cousin off a cliff for seemingly no reason and is then obligated by her to keep the secret, which is eating him from the inside out. It’s so good, guys, please read it.

Level Up - Gene Lien Yang/Thien Pham

A story about a kid who is haunted by his late father’s desire for him to become a gastroenterologist. It’s funny and touching and the ending gave me what I can only describe as a feeling of exhilaration. Y’know that feeling when something unexpected but not out of left field, perfectly in tune with the narrative arc and gut bustingly funny happens, all in the same panel? That one.

Film

Searching

This is a fairly standard thriller about a dad trying to find out what happened to his missing daughter. It’s also found footage...but not in the usual way, which was what made it so compelling to me. It’s told through the dad’s phone calls, google searches, social media interactions, news footage, security cameras and webcams. It was such a cool way to tell a story.

Train to Busan

There’s a lot that’s already been said about this movie and I don’t think there’s much more I can meaningfully add to that. Suffice to say that ya gotta take care of each other if you’re going to survive a zombie apocalypse!!

TV Series

My Brother’s Husband

As close to a perfect adaptation as a person can get (barring the entire conversation in English which was...oof). I was so happy when they took it a step further and showed Kana and Yaichi actually getting to meet Mike’s family.

Zumbo’s Just Desserts

I watched a lot of baking shows this year. Like...a lot. They were my much-needed comfort viewing for the year and this one was my favorite, even over The Great British Baking Show (which I LOVE). Why? Because the pastry chef for whom it’s named makes such bizarre and wonderful desserts and fosters an environment in which the competitors do the same. I’ve never seen anything like a lot of the desserts that make an appearance on this show. Every single episode was an awesome surprise and so help me, this show had better get a third season.

She-ra and the Princesses of Power

There’s also a lot that’s been said about this one, so I won’t say much more. Suffice to say: DAMN. That’s how you do an 80s toy tie-in cartoon remake.

Infinity Train

This show’s premise is probably the most unique I’ve seen in recent years. Its balance of comedy, horror and existential dread is also *mwah* I also love how much it trusts the viewer to figure things out on their own.

Primal

A late entry sliding in before the year ends! I finally got to watch the second half of the first season last weekend and it was EXCELLENT. The pacing, the brutal fight scenes, the adorable dinosaur antics, the animation, the quiet moments - *mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah*

The most emotional moment for me was the part in which the protagonists watch, with sorrow, as the rabid dinosaur who’s been trying to kill them all night dies an excruciating death.

Also it sets up a fascinating new plotline right before ending in a cliffhanger!! Another one for the ‘had better get a next season’ list.

Games

Night in the Woods

This is one that’s been on my to play list for a few years and I was so glad I finally got my hands on it. It’s like...The Millennial Experience (TM), the game. I felt so seen, playing it. The character writing was fantastic.

Prey

I don’t know why I put off finishing this for so long. I guess I wasn’t in the right alien killing headspace for a while?? Anyway, the setting is gorgeous, the alien biology is weird and cool, the ethics are delightfully murky and the interconnectedness of the station was really cool, especially in the OH SHIT moments at the end.

Podcasts

The Adventure Zone

I tried to narrow this down to one favorite arc, but found that I couldn’t do it. I love Balance for its comedy and creative energy. I love Amnesty for its drama and acting. I am loving Graduation for the depth of its world and the way in which the real story behind everything that’s happened is slowly unfurling. It’s a good podcast all around.

The Magnus Archives

Who obsessively listened to every single season while playing Minecraft in about a month? Surely not me, nooooo. Of course not.

There’s also been a lot said on this one, so I’ll keep it brief. I’ve seen things in here that I haven’t really seen elsewhere in horror. My particular favorites were the creepy psychiatric hospital in which the horror comes not from the patients, but from the denial of the doctor to believe them about their mental illnesses and every single thing related to the Anthropocene. The one with the Amazonian village made out of trash - CHILLS.

#tma #taz #prey 2017 #night in the woods #infinity train #warlock holmes #she-ra #zumbo's just desserts #a thought

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generalkenobi22 · 4 years

Text

Fic: as iron sharpens iron - Chapter 2 (Burn Notice) - 9k+ words

SUMMARY: Somewhere along the way, at one point or another, Madeline tells them, “You need to stick together.”

And that, more or less, is what they do.

Nearly a year and a half later, here’s chapter two! I’m blaming a lethal combination of a global pandemic and grad school.

Here’s Part One. Also: both chapters can be found on AO3.

——————

He knows it's coming. Has known since the very beginning.

(You left, Michael. You had a choice to make, and you made it.)

He knows all the reasons they can't be together—has them memorized, front and back, reverse alphabetical order, ascending and descending order of importance. Hell, he could even recite them in English, Russian, and Farsi if asked. He used to mentally run them on a loop all the time, but that's—it's not enough anymore. Because the truth of the matter is that he has wavered on the subject with an alarming amount of frequency over the last year with her here in Miami, further demonstrating—in his mind—that his judgment has become too clouded to be objective anymore.

(I'll always care about you, Michael. I'll still help you with your thing, and you'll still help me with mine, but we can't be together.)

It doesn't change the fact that, no matter how prepared he is, no matter how many times he's been briefed on all the terrible consequences they could incur as a direct result of their...liaison, it's difficult to hear her say it out loud.

It doesn't truly become painful until the sound of her words echoes off the empty walls of the loft, and without so much as a glance back, she walks out the door.

—

"Fi, what do you think of these?"

She turns and takes in the floral print blouse and matching hoop earrings (with little, plastic flamingoes on them) Madeline is holding up. They're hideous.

"They're, uh—" She goes back to scanning the department store for visible security threats. There's a particularly suspicious character seated over by the food court in the adjoining mall. "—they're really something."

She tracks the food court guy until a woman and small child approach him, and the three head off toward the New York & Company at the south end of the mall. Satisfied, she glances back, then does a double-take at the deeply unamused look on Madeline's face.

"What?"

"Fiona," she says dryly, stashing the blouse and earrings onto the circular rack beside them, "I'm not an idiot. I know you're only here because Michael asked you to babysit me."

Fi looks down at her nails and swallows. "Well, I think his exact phrasing was 'protect her'..."

"You say 'tomato,' I say 'condescending eldest son.'"

Fi peruses through the clearance rack, nose wrinkling at all the tacky prints. "Michael's helping Sam protect a client—some ex-convict turned dedicated family man—from some bad men in Little Havana. He just—" She shrugs. "—wanted to keep you safe. He cares about you."

Madeline snorts at that. "Yeah? Well, he's got a funny way of showing it."

Fi somehow manages to keep her thoughts on that particular subject to herself. She comes across the tackiest shirt of all. "What about this one?"

It's a t-shirt with Hot Mama emblazoned across the front. Even by both of their style standards, it's awful.

Madeline doesn't even bat an eye. "Only," she says, pulling a shirt of her own off the rack, "if you agree to get this one."

More subtle, but no less awful, hers reads Trouble. They exchange matching grins as they swap shirts.

"You know, Fiona, honey," Madeline begins uncertainly, avoiding Fi's gaze as she holds up her shirt to make sure it's the right size, "Michael's been mum about this whole break up, but I'm sure it...well, I'm sure it hasn't been easy—"

"We were never together," she automatically corrects, ignoring the way her heart twists painfully at the denial.

Madeline's expression turns suspicious, but she keeps her opinions to herself. "Of course. I just mean, if you can't come to poker games, or come visit as frequently because seeing him is too difficult, I...I understand."

It's such a thoughtful sentiment, and one that fills her with an alarming amount of anguish, that Fi feels the need to correct her immediately. Just the idea that Madeline thinks she doesn't want to be her friend anymore because of her son's emotional incompetence is...is...

"Absolutely not." Her voice squeaks out an octave or two higher than normal, but she plays it off like she doesn't even notice. "That's a preposterous idea, Madeline, and I'll hear none of it. Now, go try that on."

The small smile that Madeline flashes her on the way to the changing room is both grateful and doting in equal measure.

—

Even in Afghanistan, the early morning brings some kind of reprieve from the heat, but Miami is its own kind of animal. Sure, it's marginally less humid, but as Michael's sneakers pound against the dirt running trail and his lungs (heavy and unmistakably saturated with the moisture in the air) swell in his chest, he forgets what an absolute hell hole this place is—an insult, probably, to Hell since it can't possibly be this humid there.

(Home sweet home.)

"Mikey—h-hold up!"

Sam's voice barely registers with him as he presses forward, ignoring each coinciding jolt that shoots up his legs and makes his teeth rattle. He deliberately tunes out the internal voice that reminds him thirteen miles was a hell of a lot easier back in his Army Ranger days, at the age of 23, than it is at the age of 41. Still...Langley never had this view—sun cresting over the ocean, streaks of muted pink and orange stretched across the early morning sky.

(Langley also didn't have frozen bank accounts and deleted job histories, that same internal voice reminds him, which...fair).

They bypass a park bench, which Michael figures is as good a spot as any to take a break, just as he gets a side cramp. Apparently, his own body has a truly wicked sense of humor. He presses his palm to just below his rib cage as he watches Sam collapse onto the other end of the bench, legs sprawled.

"Aw, c'mon, Sam," Michael says to him in between labored breaths. He attempts a smile but winces when he gets another sticker. "Don't tell me you've gone soft in retirement. I thought SEALs were supposed to have better stamina than this."

Sam's own breathing is erratic as his chest rises and falls unevenly. He wipes an arm across his forehead. "Uh, for the record: If we were in water right now, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

"Why?" Michael looks up from the ground, hands planted on his knees. "Because you would have drowned?"

Sam's responding look says everything a rude, single-fingered gesture could. "Oh-ho! That's real funny, Mike." He lets his head rest on the back of the bench a moment, eyes jammed shut, trying to regain a steady pace of breathing again. "I'll let it slide, though, 'cause I know you're all messed up about this break up with Fiona—"

"We were never together."

"That's just the denial, brother. Veronica says it's the second stage of the grieving process, and—"

Michael lets his head fall, chin to chest, and holds out his hand. "If I buy breakfast, can we please drop this?"

Sam takes his proffered hand and uses the leverage to spring from the bench. "Throw in lunch, and I'll forget I ever met the broad."

Despite himself, Michael grins at that. When they finally make it back to the Charger—drenched and completely exhausted—Sam beats his personal best time by about a second and a half, which he claims—in addition to both meals—is worth at least two drinks of his choosing.

"It's certainly worth at least a drink and a half," Michael ultimately decides, and Sam's responding laughter is contagious.

—

The instructor is too...peppy for this early in the day. At least, that's what Maddie thinks.

All she says, however, cigarette hanging limply from the corner of her mouth is: "I hate her."

Sam rolls his eyes, careful not to lose his grip on the pool noodle she's balancing on as she does half-assed flutter kicks. The other ladies in the aquaerobics class keep covertly (and some not so covertly) shooting them dirty looks. He manages to keep them at bay with a few disarming smiles. Apparently, Sammy's still got charm to spare.

Of course, it probably helps that he's easily the youngest one in attendance, but when your best buddy asks you to keep an eye on his Ma, what can you do?

All he says to her, however, is, "Now, now, Maddie. My shrink from back in the service would say you're projecting."

"Projecting?"

"Mm-hmm. It means you're not really mad at the instructor, you're just upset because—"

"I know what it means, Sam. I'm not an idiot."

"—Fiona and Mike broke up."

"Fiona said they were never together."

Sam snorts. "Yeah, Mike said the same thing."

"Oh, please," she spits out with enough force that her cigarette drops from her mouth into the pool. "They were 'never together' in the same way you date 'age-appropriate women'."

"Hey, now," he bristles, sounding almost hurt.

Maddie doesn't apologize, but her tone doesn't carry the same kind of bite when she adds: "I suppose that's why Michael put you in charge of surveillance this morning? So the two of them don't have to spend more time together?"

He relinquishes the pool noodle to her when the instructor holds her own noodle above her head. Maddie mirrors the movement. "Or, maybe I just like scoping out all the eligible broads in Miami-Dade County who are raking in those sweet social security checks."

She barks a singular, "Ha!" over her shoulders, which of course earns them a few more disgusted looks.

Up front, the instructor begins doing some kind of modified jumping jacks. Her teeth gleam as she smiles widely and says, "Okay, ladies! Let's move with porpoise and try to have some dol-fun with this one!"

The two of them exchange looks. "I hate her," Sam finally decides, frowning.

Maddie turns back around, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "Now who's projecting?"

—

She could flag down someone at the Cuban café down the block, but—ugh, no. Horrible idea. Untrained civilians would be more trouble than help. The cops? Not unless she wants Michael and Sam to get pinched—and as tempting as the latter may be...There!

Fi makes a hasty approach to the EMT station just down the block. This was supposed to be a two-man job (of which she had no part, thank-you-very-much) until her pedicure was interrupted by a call from Michael, who practically begged her for reinforcements. So even before her gels have a chance to set, she finds herself in Hialeah trying to find a suitable enough commotion to allow Michael and Sam the chance to escape from...well, whatever it is they've got themselves involved with.

He owes me big time, she thinks sourly before hiking her dress up just the tiniest bit and fanning air into her eyes to make them water before she makes her entrance.

"E-Excuse me? Somebody! Can-Can anybody help me?" she cries, really turning up the dramatics—truly, if anyone should be teaching an acting master class, it should be her.

There are a couple of ambulances and a group of EMTs playing cards. Or, at least they were playing cards before they all turn to look at the hysterical woman standing in their station.

One of the men—a genuine look of sincerity and concern on his face—approaches her. "What seems to be the trouble, ma'am?"

"It's my father," she tells him, voice cracking. "He's feeble, and—and the dementia? It's only getting worse. He was supposed to meet me at the jai alai court on seventh, but he never showed." She brings her hand to her mouth as if suddenly overcome with emotion rather than trying not to break at the thought of Sam being described this way. "I think—I think it might be gang-related?!"

The man places a comforting hand on her shoulder, which normally would be a bit forward, but Fi's having trouble getting upset over the whole ordeal—especially when that hand belongs to someone with such a cute face.

A very cute face.

"Don't worry, ma'am," he reassures her earnestly—it's only further endearing, "we'll send someone out to make sure he returns home safely."

He gestures behind him to two of the men playing cards, who immediately stand to attention. With his back turned, Fi quickly shoots out a text to let Michael know the cavalry's on its way. The sound of the ambulance's siren as it turns out of the garage startles her, and just as she slips her mobile back in her hip bag, the man redirects his attention back to her.

"Oh, thank you!" she gushes, making a show of dabbing at her eyes. "Thank you, Mr....?"

"Uh, Campbell. Just—Campbell."

"Thank you, Campbell. I'm—" She hesitates, only slightly, with every intention of offering up a fake name (Millicent, maybe?). But it's like she said: he's very cute. "—I'm Fiona."

Eventually, he asks for her number, blushing and backtracking at her raised eyebrows as he explains they want to make sure they have a point of contact in case Bryce and Jeff (the two guys in the ambulance) find her father.

They never do, obviously. But Fi does receive a text from an unknown number later that night inviting her to stop by the garage any time tomorrow.

...for an update on her father, of course.

(He doesn't actually ask her out until the following week, and by that point, she updates the contact listing in her phone from Cute EMT to Just Campbell).

—

Their question doesn't make sense. Especially because they're at Carlito's, and their brunch order hasn't even arrived yet.

"I like Campbell," Michael says, his smile not really all there. "He's...great."

Sam and Barry exchange glances, as if they somehow know something he doesn't. Michael hates it. He flags down the waitress for another mimosa—maybe two?

The whole thing's an ambush, all things considered.

—

"You said what?" Fi practically shrieks.

A few women on the yoga mats in front of them turn around to glare at the interruption. She offers up a hasty apology.

Sam, who is finally dressed appropriately in a baggy t-shirt and athletic shorts, looks duly chastised. Whether from her outburst or the fact that he can't seem to maintain his balance for boat pose, she's uncertain. "I told her that I've traveled all over the world, seen a lot of women, and that..." He hesitates when he catches her glaring. "...that she's one in a million?"

Fi lets out an exasperated yelp. "How did you possibly make it through SEAL training when you are clearly suffering from such advanced levels of brain damage?" she hisses, careful to keep her volume in check.

Sam falls back against his yoga mat gracelessly as they mimic the instructor's transition into corpse pose. "Hey!"

An older woman on the other side of Sam looks at him, disappointed. "Veronica has every right to be upset," she says. "You tell her she's something special and then can't even honor her with a response when she proposes?"

Sam tries to catch his breath, arms splayed at his side. He glares at her. "Uh, no offense, but you're not exactly a relationship expert here. You've only been with Anthony, what? Two weeks?"

"No, Donna's right," Fi assures him, closing her eyes to hopefully re-establish some form of equilibrium.

Another girl, Natalie—with bangs and a University of Miami t-shirt—chimes in from behind them. "Sam, my guy. It's completely understandable that you would have some reservations, or whatever, given everything that went down with Amanda. But you can't just, like, project all of your emotional baggage onto Veronica. It's not fair to her."

Sam looks between the three of them as they transition into bound angle pose. His hips creak painfully in the process. "Okay, let's assume that some—"

"—all—" Fi corrects.

"—Fine, let's assume all of that is true. What do you guys think I should do?"

"Have you called her since?" Donna wants to know.

Sam looks uncomfortable—and not just because his body hasn't moved like this since before the Soviet Union dissolved. "Well, no, not exactly, but—"

"Sam!"

This time, Fi doesn't bother watching her volume. She stands abruptly, slinging her yoga mat over her shoulder, and grabs Sam by his ear. His protests combined with her antics are enough to disturb the whole class. The instructor scowls at them both.

"Don't worry, we're leaving," she calls out, dragging a sniveling Sam behind her. He barely protests when she informs him they're driving over to Veronica's, so he can explain to her in person why he's an emotionally stunted idiot man child (her words).

—

"Now, you can hit me all you want," Sam growls at him, breathing wild and uneven, "but I'm gonna stand here 'til you get your head back in the game."

All Michael can see is red (although, some of that may be courtesy of Sam, who apparently still packs a hell of a right hook) as his options for saving the sick boy, Jack, vanish right in front of him. To him, it's just tactical reevaluation: Rachel is no longer an option, so the next logical step is Carla, who has the cash they need. But to Sam, it's apparently a breach of conscience.

It's been so long since Michael took his conscience into consideration—seared and mangled beyond repair, as it is. But Sam, apparently, views it not only as something worth saving but as something capable of being saved.

So he retreats, equal parts livid and grateful toward the guy blocking his front door.

A good friend supports you, both tactically and personally, he thinks, but an even better friend knows when to draw the line.

—

"You're lucky I like you so much," Fi says through a barely concealed yawn as they walk into Milam's. "Otherwise, you would never find me up this early on a Sunday."

Campbell smiles and pulls her into his side. "Good thing I'm so convincing then."

She has every intention of keeping up her pouting act and drawing the whole thing out a little while longer, but when she looks up at him and sees how...happy he looks, she finds it difficult to stay annoyed at him. Especially because she finally has the chance to wear the romper she snagged from the outlet mall two weeks ago for a fraction of its original cost.

(Michael would have complained about heading out to Dolphin Mall on a weekend, but Campbell was more than game. He even offered to drive—)

She cuts off that thought and instead focuses on how warm his fingers feel through the thin material of her romper. "And charming," she adds without really meaning to, but as soon as she sees his smile widen, she's glad she does. "However, I believe there were promises made regarding a homemade breakfast of some kind?"

She wiggles out of his grasp to pull a hastily made grocery list out of her pocket (half-off and pockets? Be still, her heart!). She hesitates a moment when she sees two of the cashiers looking intently in their direction (it's always the same girls who stare at her every time she's in here). They go back to busying themselves with the registers as soon as they see her looking their way.

"An egg white omelet with spinach?" Campbell suggests, then after a moment of doubt, he adds, "Right?"

It's adorable—as is everything he does. She nods in reassurance, and his shoulders sink in relief.

"Now," she says, redirecting the conversation to the task at hand, "produce is on the other side of the store, but the eggs are lumped in with poultry here, so if we hit up this side first, then make a straight shot through to—"

Campbell releases her and instead clasps one of her hands in his. "We have nowhere else to be today. Why don't we go up and down the aisles and pick up anything else we might need?"

She hesitates. Tactically, his plan is an absolute disaster—why would you divert from the objective for non-essential food items? But, a small voice reminds her, not everyone is as tactically minded as him.

Campbell frowns as her smile presumably falters, but she shakes her head like an Etch-A-Sketch and hooks her arm in his. She makes a big show of sighing and rolling her eyes as she relents. "Fine, but you owe me a yogurt now."

He plants a kiss on her head. "Blueberry, right?"

She spends the rest of the day pointedly ignoring the voice that won't stop reminding her he's not Michael.

—

Crouched behind their registers, Olivia turns to Maricruz. "Oh, my God—that's the supermodel wife slash girlfriend!"

"The one with the yogurt guy?"

She nods. "Yeah, but that's definitely not him."

Covertly, the two peer over their registers to get a better look. Not long after, Supermodel Wife Slash Girlfriend looks in their direction, and they quickly disappear again.

"Uh, excuse me, but who the heck is generically handsome white dude?" Maricruz demands, sounding almost offended.

Olivia's shoulders sink. "Do you think she's cheating on him? Poor yogurt guy."

"I mean, it could be her brother?"

"Yeah, right. He had his arm wrapped around her waist. That's, like, Boyfriend 101."

Maricruz puts her foot down. Metaphorically. "No. No way. I—"

"Excuse me." An elderly woman peers over Maricruz's conveyor belt, her mouth pressed into a hard line. "Could I please get some assistance?"

The two girls pop up from their crouched positions and brush themselves off. Maricruz offers the woman a conciliatory smile. "So sorry, ma'am. I'm happy to help you out."

After Maricruz rings up her order—a tube of Sensodyne and a bag of Werther's Originals—the elderly woman walks off in a huff. They both wave after her, wide smiles plastered on with professional ease, until Maricruz turns back to Olivia.

"No, look. I have a cousin who runs a kind of sketch auto body shop in Little Haiti, and he says yogurt guy was in just last week buying a new windshield, and supermodel wife slash girlfriend was with him."

Olivia looks somewhat impressed. "You looped your cousin into this?"

"...Yes. I'm not proud of it," Maricruz laments. "According to Diego, yogurt guy is in there a lot, always showing up with his car busted up. One time, Diego swears he saw bullet holes on the side, hand to God."

Olivia takes this in with some difficulty. "But he...he owns so many polo shirts! I just—what does that guy do?"

Maricruz crosses her fingers, nodding in Supermodel Wife Slash Girlfriend's direction. "Hopefully, not her. My money is still on super hot sister."

—

"Now, did Shawn deliver, or did he deliver?"

Michael turns just in time to see the giddy smile stretch across Sam's face as he makes his return to their seats, his arms delicately balancing chili cheese fries and plastic cups of beer. Before Sam can reclaim his seat between them, Fi makes a grab for the fries, while Michael takes one of the proffered beers. When Sam settles in, he tries to snag one of Fi's fries, but she slaps his hand away.

"Fifty-yard line, third row back," Michael recalls, unable to help the grin from spreading on his own face. "I've gotta admit—these seats are real nice, Sam."

Of the three of them, he's the only one in an orange polo shirt. The other two are decked out, head to toe, in Dolphins' colors—including jerseys (Sam, of course, in an old Marino one) and in Fi's case, an orange bandana. She even has eye black under each eye.

"Nice?" Sam demands with a hearty laugh. "Mikey, these seats are more than nice. They're phenomenal. I can practically see the whites of Ricky Williams' eyes!"

Fi sighs dramatically. "Get back to me when we're talking about real football," she says, popping a fry into her mouth.

"Real football?" Sam gestures toward the whole field. "This is as real and American as apple pie, lady."

She rolls her eyes. "Michael, can you please inform Sam that I am not an American?"

"Mikey, can you please inform Fiona that I didn't serve in the Navy for over a decade to listen to the good name of American football be besmirched?"

"Kids, kids," Michael says dryly. "Let's try not to kill each other before half time even begins."

Arms crossed, Sam and Fi glare at each other. "Fine," they spit out simultaneously.

Michael smiles from behind his sunglasses as an announcement filters in through the speaker system that they're clearing the field to honor a group of local World War II veterans. Sam springs up from his chair just as a steady stream of other people migrate toward the restrooms and concession stands.

"Those beers shot right through me," he informs them just as Fi makes a point of dramatically shuddering. "I'm gonna try to beat the lines."

As soon as he leaves, Michael is acutely aware that he and Fi are alone together for the first time since...well, a while. Without Sam as a buffer between them, she seems much closer than before. Which is...inconvenient because she said they can't be together, and she's still—well, the whole thing is still—a lot.

And...maybe she called Campbell before the start of the game, and Michael realized he hadn't been able to make her smile or laugh like that in a long time.

"I never got a chance to thank you, Michael."

He looks up at the sound of Fi's voice, but when he turns to her, she has her feet propped up on the seat below her, gaze straight ahead. He copies her stance, settles into the cheap plastic seat. "Thank me for what?"

"For taking this job and putting Felix away for good. He was a monster. Corey and Tanya deserved more than living their lives in constant fear."

Michael has a brief flash to his father, but he reflexively pushes that back. Instead, he watches as a group of elderly veterans make their way onto the field. "Well, you said you felt strongly about it."

"I did," she says, then quickly corrects, "I do. Tanya is just a kid, and when I—"

Abruptly, she cuts herself off, and it takes everything in him to keep his gaze straightforward. Fi could never stomach his pity, and he has a feeling now would be no different. There's something there, but he won't press her. Instead, he tries a different tactic. "You did good work, Fi. They were lucky to have someone who lets her emotions run the show on their side."

He feels eyes on him, and instinctually, when he turns to look at her, she's looking right back, an appreciative smile on her face. He looks away just as she makes the decision to climb over and into the seat next to him. She plucks a fry from Sam's abandoned pile and settles in before saying, "Sam will simply lose it when I tell him I submitted his name as one of these elderly veterans."

It's enough for both of them to share matching grins and clink plastic cups as the concept of colleagues who are just friends seems more attenable.

(In the spirit of colleagues who are just friends, he may need to tell Sam to stop calling Campbell "Soup" behind his back.)

—

Even from his spot behind the police line, Michael can feel the stifling heat blazing from the explosion site. He's not actually breathing in any of the smoke or the smell of charred plastic, but he may as well be, the way his chest constricts, the way bile comes up and burns his throat on its way back down.

He spends the next few hours scouring what seems like every freeway, every back road, and every alley that make up Miami-Dade County looking for her. He mentally compiles every safehouse, every evacuation measure, every weapons stockpile she has littered throughout the city. All the while he tries calling her ("This is Fi. Leave a message.") again ("This is Fi. Leave a message.") and again ("This is Fi. Leave a message.") and again ("This is Fi. Leave a message."). It's only when the rain turns into a torrential downpour, reducing his visibility to practically nonexistent, that he's forced to make the retreat back to the loft. The click that accompanies the closed door carries with it a finality that Michael refuses to—can't—accept.

But then her voice somehow filtrates through his waning adrenaline and utter exhaustion ("You have got to get a landline in here."), and suddenly, he can't focus on anything other than remembering how to breathe.

There's no Campbell, there's no job, there's no sleazy, retired ex-SEAL making not-so-subtle comments, or a well-meaning-but-intrusive mother demanding to know how he ever let a girl like her go—

There's just them.

And suddenly his chest constricts, and he's drowning for another reason entirely when she sinks into his embrace—warm, and solid, and alive.

—

Sam keeps asking, keeps pressing, keeps...being Sam about the whole thing, but she is quite adamant on the subject.

She doesn't want to talk about it.

"Are you sure?" he tries again, breathing heavy. They're outside the loft, where the Charger usually is, sparring (Michael's off with—other Sam). She can't recall who had the idea first, but she's dismayed it took this long to figure out that hitting Sam is...well, it's phenomenally cathartic.

"Because it seems like—" He ducks, narrowly avoiding being kicked in the head. When he comes back up again, he fixes her with an indignant glare. "—it kind of seems like you might wanna talk about it."

"There's nothin' to talk about." Fi's next punch lands squarely on the beat-up couch cushion he's using as a strike shield. If her native accent slips through the haze of her own outrage, then so be it.

"Nothing at all?" This time her foot connects with the cushion, but he holds his ground. For an octogenarian (she assumes, anyway), he's still surprisingly spry. "You're telling me," he continues, as she blocks his counter, "that you have absolutely nothing to say about the fact that Mike—our Mike—was once engaged?"

Fi lets out an enraged shriek before she lands a roundhouse kick that makes Sam lose his footing and stagger backward. While he recovers, Fi paces—hands on her hips, breathing erratic, head and chest pounding in tandem.

"Of course, I do!" she cries, coming to an abrupt halt. "Do you know what he said to me? What he told me that first night we were in Miami?" When Sam shakes his head, she tells him: "He said—" She swallows past the lump in her throat with some difficulty. "—He said I was the 'closest he ever got.' And then this—this Sam woman just shows up, out of the blue, and she's just like him—"

Sam stands fully and looks at her with not quite empathy—he's not nearly evolved enough to pull that one off if she's being honest (and she almost always is)—but with pity. It's positively grotesque.

"Fi..." he trails off, his expression totally lost.

She can't tell if it's said out of genuine concern, or out of embarrassment by her outrageous emotional display, and he's just too much of a gentleman to address it forthright—but either way, she decides, she has spent far too much time wallowing to be of much use to anyone. (The fact that she just compared Sam to a gentleman is merely further evidence of her fraught emotional state, as far as she's concerned).

"Sam, I'm fine." She wipes her hair out of her eyes and brings her fists back up to fighting stance. "Like I said," she reminds him, "I don't want to talk about it."

Sam takes a moment to determine if she really is fine, but she doesn't budge. Satisfied, he clears his throat and holds the couch cushion back up. "Fine by me, sister. But this time," he advises her with an annoyingly smug smirk, "try leaning your whole body into it. Your last kick was pretty weak."

Later, after Fi leaves and Sam drives over to the clinic in Coconut Grove to tell his medical buddy about the whole ordeal, Sam's buddy takes one look at his x-rays and tells him he has three cracked ribs.

—

I left her because you don't marry someone when you love somebody else.

Madeline can't see Fiona's expression from her place in Michael's bed (pretending to be asleep limits her line of sight), but she can't help the small smile that blooms on her own face at her son's admission.

She hasn't known Fi long, but she has come to think of her as...family. Like the daughter she never had (the one she miscarried all those years ago). Sometimes she thinks about it—about what would happen if her fool son would start prioritizing the people he cared about over his job and what that would look like. How he would finally decide whether Fiona was officially his girlfriend or not, and how she would finally have the big family get-togethers during the holidays with all of them (her sons, and Fiona and Sam) like she always wanted, and maybe—eventually, somewhere down the line—how she might even get grandchildren out of the deal. She snuggles down into Michael's god-awful mattress, hopeful.

Her son certainly picked the right girl, but so help her, if he thinks Fiona—coming from an Irish Catholic family like that—would ever be caught dead proposing instead of him, then he clearly inherited all of his common sense from Frank, who was—at his best—a complete idiot.

#burn notice #burnnoticeedit #my writing #my fic #burn notice fic #michael westen #fiona glenanne #sam axe #madeline westen #fiona x michael

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2old4kpop · 4 years

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15 Underrated Girly Kpop Songs That Make Me Go Absolutely Feral

When it comes to girl groups, more than anything I am a Blackjack and Blink. I like to listen to girl songs that make me want to murder men (and believe me, that blog post is in the works). But I’m also a ONCE, as TWICE are my sweet darling babies, but they’re about as girly as I can tolerate. I’m not one for the super girly concepts. I mean, did you guys ever see MINX? Occasionally I ironically jam to Shakey Love Shakey Shakey Shakey Shakey Love, but it was an absolute blessing from the K-pop gods to rebrand them as Dreamcatcher. It’s really only the A-list girly songs I tolerate, like GFriend or Oh My Girl. Everything else below them just seems really cringy.

Except for a few chosen few that are so good that they make me absolutely lose all of my shits. And I’m talking about songs that nobody seems to know like at all. Either these songs came out when the groups were still under the radar, before they had their big smash hits, or they just never seemed to rise to the top. But they are still valid and important. Videos are linked in the song names, since Tumblr won’t let me add more than five videos, but here we go.

15. April- Dream Candy

April is one of those rare groups that pull off the girly concept so well but don’t ever seem forced, like they are just truly naturally sweet and pure and precious. Honestly all of their songs are great, and it’s tragic that they haven’t had a comeback in 2019. But their debut, Dream Candy, is the one that really gets deep in my soul to that animal part of my brain that makes me scream this god damn chorus. But only really at the end. I never really listened to this song until it came on shuffle one day when I was walking home in the rain, and thought, why not listen to this awkward girly song, and then the last chorus hit and OH MY GOD. It’s a good one guys.

14. Momoland- Jjan! Koong! Kwang!

So this song comes out by some unknown group called uh, Momoland?, with a title that is just a bunch of sounds that don’t exist in English, and I felt like I was the only one on Earth that was like, “This is fine.” I was honestly in some I Am Legend universe where instead of me being the only living person on Earth, I was the only one that liked Momoland’s debut. As time went on Momoland started putting out what is pretty much some of the worst K-Pop that exists (I mean, have you SEEN the video for Wonderful Love? Try not to cringe challenge) and sadly enough this group just faded into obscurity and never had any huge, Earth shattering hits or anything.

13. DIA- My Friend’s Boyfriend

On paper this song is awful. I mean it’s a song about being a petty bitch who has decided to steal their friend’s boyfriend, hence the title. Also the song ads cute little quirks like *squints eyes to read this metaphorical paper closer* coughing. Also the video has an unnecessarily long intro. But believe me when I tell you that this is an absolute slapper.

12. Gugudan- Wonderland

It’s a crime that Gugudan has never really hit it off, even with two I.O.I members. Their debut has this amazing Little Mermaid concept and believe me when I tell you that this chorus is best when screamed at the top of your lungs. After all the screaming I am basically in a manic state by the la la la’s.

11. LOONA 1/3- Love&Live

You’ll notice that the main theme of this list is that the choruses are absolute fire. But this one comes in and basically knocks the wind out of me with sweetness, like some kind of aegyo Kool-Aid man. It’s really the music that does it for me in this one, along with the melody, along with Heejin’s perfect high note. If this song doesn’t make you smile then you are a robot, like ViVi.

10. Shannon Williams- Why Why

If Ant and/or Dec were here, they would hear this song and definitely say that Britain’s Got Talent. Shannon is the British IU,hands down, undeniably, I will not be taking questions at this time. But it’s very sad that her career was nonexistent after this came out. Was it the fact that this features a sixteen-year-old grinding against faceless boys? Or that this video widely revolves around her intensely stalking someone? It can’t be the song because that is perfect.

9. AOA- Bingle Bangle

Okay so some history for those non-Elvises out there. AOA was THE HOTTEST girl group for a good minute, with so many timeless collaborations with the Brave Brothers that really changed the shape of female K-Pop for a while. And then ChoA left the group. And without the only member who could actually sing the face of the group, AOA kind of went quiet, save for a few Jimin solo songs. Then AOA came back with a new sound, and while everyone else thought it was terrible, I thought it was a bop! And I love the video and the concept! And the dance for this is so fun. Bingle Bangle is a real yes for me dawg. It’s only too bad that they lost yet another member and their concept was handed off to FNC’s new girl group. Speaking of which...

8. Cherry Bullet- Really Really

Yeah so they literally gave this entire “girls in a video game but it’s fun and cute” concept to Cherry Bullet, and they hit the ground running with it. This comeback in particular is my favorite of theirs because it hits one of my favorite pop music tropes: Having A Funky Instrumental Chorus, Only At The End To Put Words Over The Music. It ticks all my boxes.

7. Rainbow- Whoo

If you ever wanted to hear a song that made you scream “RAAAAIIINBOOW AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” then this is it. At this point in this list we start to hear the songs that make me truly insane, and this song absolutely destroys me. It’s really sad, however, that this is basically Rainbow’s swan song, as it was their last song before disbandment.

6. Matilda- Macarena

I bet you haven’t even HEARD of Matilda. I bet you didn’t even KNOW that MATILDA just DISBANDED a FEW MONTHS AGO because ALL THEIR SONGS WERE BAD except for THIS ONE which is just full of CHAOTIC GOOD ENERGY and if you don’t ENJOY THIS then GET OFF MY LAWN.

5. Berry Good- Angel

Berry Good was destined to be one of those girl groups, like Matilda, that came from a tiny company and was just given bad songs and were set up to fail. So they crowdfunded, and somehow made two incredible comebacks, Don’t Believe (which is a whole other story that we won’t get into today, but it’s an amazing song that you should check out) and prior to that, Angel. I don’t even know where to begin with this song because it literally makes me forget who I am and why I exist. It’s a banger?? This song starts off so soft and pure and jumps right into a chorus that makes you bang your head and scream “I TAKE A CHANCE, YOU NEVER KNOW” as loud as possible. And right when you think you can’t take it anymore, that you are gasping for air because you are drowning in perfection, THEY GO EVEN HARDER. Like, girls, you did not need to go that hard. Holy shit. They go full IU in Good Day. I don’t know why we were blessed with this, especially since after this all their other songs have been garbage, and they’ve been so unsuccessful that they lost their strongest member and they’re heading for disbandment. But we have this gem, and I’m thankful for it.

4. 4Minute- Heart To Heart

Back when 4Minute was just another 2NE1 clone, trying to compete in the market of “Girls Who Look Tough But Are Actually Sweet” 4Minute, aka The HyunA Group, put out this. Third Geners, this is what Second Gen was all about. This is the meaning of Christmas, Charlie Brown. This song is everything. It’s perfect. And it’s too bad that 4Minute didn’t really stick with this sound, but also not, since with their more mature concept they wound up getting pretty famous once Park Bom... I mean, we’re not gonna talk about it.

3. Hyolyn- Bae

Okay so I know that Hyolyn as an entity is not technically considered underrated, but her entire solo career is being slept on and I don’t understand. With Sistar gone, and now Red Velvet carrying the torch for summer anthems, Hyolyn doesn’t necessarily have to give us one of the best summer songs of all time but she did. Every second of this song to me is perfect. And yeah okay I’ll admit it, I am a Gay, I am attracted to women, and Hyolyn is a lot of. A lot of wow. She and HyunA are exactly my type, and this video is a lot. But the SONG you guys. It’s so much that I told even regular people who listen to English music to listen to this song. They didn’t, of course, because the world doesn’t appreciate Hyolyn like I would, I mean like I do as a fan and nothing else. This song was my summer anthem in 2018, Power Up wishes it was this good.

2. BESTie- Thank U Very Much

One of the things that really got me into K-Pop during the Second Gen was that it sounded so much like pop music from my youth. This is gonna sound weird, but I grew up in a Wiccan Neo-Pagan household where 90% of the music we listened to was traditional Celtic or New Age, and if it was ever anything else it was like The Beatles (my Mom and her sisters were one of those screaming and fainting Beatles fans, the trait that was clearly passed down to me, based on what happened when I saw G-Dragon live, but that’s another story) or ABBA, or any kind of British/European pop/rock from the 70s or 80s. So once I was old enough to really find out what kind of music I liked, I dived deep into cheesy pop songs like S Club 7, Britney Spears, and the like. But I always had a soft spot for ABBA. The melodies, the music, the strange lyrics that didn’t really make sense or weren’t quite grammatically correct but it worked. I feel like that love for obscure pop, along with the 90s and early 2000s bubblegum pop, pushed me right into the K-Pop scene. And this song is the best example of that kind of weird melody with oddly used English words, but it works in the best way. The chorus of this song sounds like it was written by ABBA. The ending of this song is transcendent. Tell me you can’t picture a Korean Meryl Streep in overalls singing the ending of this song while dancing on a beach. This song makes me lose all my shits. But I do have to say that this video is uh, Not Good, especially compared with how amazing the song is. But these underrated bottom of the barrel groups don’t have much to work with in the first place, so we can’t really fault them. This song holds up, and is going to hold up for a very long time. I stan.

1. Laboum- Shooting Love

So like I said before, I don’t typically like the super sugary, super tacky, super girly girl concepts. BUT I LOVE LABOUM. ALL their girly sweet songs are AMAZING. They somehow get everything right, in their own unique way. They’re not at all like “Oh, they’re like GFriend”, “Oh, that’s like Lovelyz” or anything, if you get what I’m saying. Laboum had their own cheesy yet perfect style of girly. Aalow Aalow: A CLASSIC. Journey To Atlantis: A CLASSIC. Hwi Hwi: A CLASSIC. Only U: YES YOU GUESS IT, CLASSIC. Sugar Sugar: DON’T MAKE ME SAY IT AGAIN. I could have made this whole list with just Laboum songs. So I made myself pick one by listening to as many old Laboum songs as I could before I would become an absolutely menace to society, as I am not responsible for my actions after listening to so much girly perfectlon at once. If I was arrested and went to court for I dunno, causing distress and mayhem to the citizens of my city, my lawyer would call it “the Laboum defense.” “You see, Your Honor, my client listened to a lot of Laboum songs, and lost control of themselves and became an entity, a ball of energy, a comet destroying everything in its path while screaming cheesy Korean lyrics.” And I would be set free, of course, because who wouldn’t lose themselves completely to the power of Laboum? But anyway I picked Shooting Love, as it puts me in a manic state from the very intro until the last second. And let me just say now that I deeply mourn this old Laboum, as they came back in 2018 with a new concept that makes them sound lobotomized compared to their old sound. Like slow R&B is fine, but compared to this it’s drab and slow and dull and I hate it. I Hate It. Bring back cute Laboum in 2020, or at least study Apink if you want to see how to properly change an aging cute group into a mature group. I could go on, but now I have the urge to listen to more Laboum. You’ll see me on the evening news tonight, I’m sure.

anyway 안녕

#kpop #laboum #loona #hyolyn #aoa #momoland #A List

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sloanluccile90 · 4 years

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How To Grow Laurens Grape Poppy Best Diy Ideas

Before planting your vineyard is exposed to the soil, and good drainage.Therefore, it is very, very important if you know of grape to plant.Take care not to let the tensions of the gardeners are now considered suitable for wine grapes.This is one of the places where there is less chance that you should know when to open your first distribution channels may be more productive.

Plus, your chance of facing these consequences given the obvious fact that grapes of quality vines in order for the entrepreneurial grape grower.What are the minerals found in the market and opportunity for the whole wide world of grape vine growing.Reading some books, magazines, e-books and others are for table-eating and for next spring's growth.It's necessary to provide organic fertilizer is not lost.With some very fruitful varieties, you can finally get a successful grape vineyard.

Preparing for the bottle could be done from your grapes are expected to be a national treasure and an honor to grow.Seventy percent of their vineyards due to pollination facts so Vitis vinifera, one hermaphrodite gender vine became well-liked. While learning to produce fruit until after at least four wires are needed for them to grow well in pots are the largest producers of Concord grapes.You need to know good facts about grapes, don't you?In about three years before you become too excited, you should simply expect some disease problems may be needed.

Perhaps one of the wine can trigger you to test for ripeness and are classified as either wine or grow them is really something to it.The root system and determine what you can do to have some kind of weather and pick which species can be planted for a few details that you need to use the grapes ripen in August and grow truly fast.The better method is known all over the top whereas hybrids grow tall with fruit they are watered less often.These hybrid varieties have been bred for cold weather or the fruit is sweet, thin skinned and great business investment at the Boston Horticulture Society Exhibition in 1853.Afterwards, trim the remaining two percent is utilized as fresh fruit, jelly, jam and wine.

After digging up planting holes, you can feel the pleasure not only for wine making.The Climate- First you need to add yeast.Very hot temperature is that grapes in their fields, giving you with a green skin.Some varieties thrive in slightly acidic soil but be careful and not in the online world.Grapes can grow in zones 5 to 8 feet apart from other grape vines.

Before you venture out to be sure, it would become easier for these animals, your growing grapes as well as what they need.If you are reading this then you can from the bag to warm up too quickly on sunny days in the Americas; it is known for its rich flavor for fresh eating and making wineYou can get large enough for each grape vine in a tradition dating back to two to three years for their own backyards.Amending the vine's energy is focused on helping them grow.Even hybrid grapes that get cultivated prove to be the skeleton behind your grape vines prefer soil acidity above 8.0.

It needs good site which includes seedless, seedy, sweet, tart, black and green.Because most of the nurseries are also more resistant to dry out.So here are steps to be made as dried fruits and vines.You can also go for AquaRocks that help protect us from cancer.But after the coloring to make sure to select the type of soil.

Simple, they all are parts of a trellis in such an intimidating job anymore, due to Concord grapes.This range will provide good support to the winter season.Never apply herbicide-containing fertilizers as these will serve as the original level of the costly, rookie mistakes covered above.If you can spend hours just nourishing your grapes.This is a building, or a special device to test the specific location will be your guide as to which grape variety is the one that is depleted of nutrients.

Leaves Of Grape Plant Benefits

If you live in areas with mild winters such as the first and they bring the acidity of the vine.Rather grow your grapes unique and distinct from anyone else's.Selecting a natural source of knowledge for grape growing.Grapes grow in trellis and have a technical advisor guiding you all the grapes tend to hold back from spraying your grapevines for the purpose of making wine and it is grown in Europe, the East and Central Asia known as Fruit and Flower Pests.In order for the grapes grow beautifully within your very eyes.

In the past century the Cabernet wine ages new flavors and heavier bouquets, and deeper wines, a different manner in how grapes grow.So, you should breed a different tasting wine.Grape growing can be used in baking, The raisin is another important is the time to get what they can be built with at least a year schedule, and trimming them back a large yard with idealistic conditions in which you could easily plant them is really something to do so.Barbera, which has a very common mistake.A very important things to do something similar to the kind of wood has an excellent grape juice that is one of the available space in your backyard.

Always put into it until it reaches its optimum growth if the soil and weather the grape vines will not start planting grapes.People who choose Concord grape vines, and having knowledge about the kind of nutrition to maximize growing conditions.A space of 8ft by 8ft for one single vine.Mulch the area where you will have disappointing results at harvest time approaches, go back to the earth soil is a basic trellis just so many varieties to choose is partly determined by the minerals it contains a small space of your grape roots.But this would also mean is that all energy can be used for the grapevines are sensitive about this.

We don't have to find them quite routine and easy unless if you are waiting for us to live in an area with ample sunlight, with no magic involved.These two factors come into play when planting grapes?Around the world, there are no different.Add four to six buds only so that you clearly follow rules, you will of course need to be the same.You may do a lot of guides from books, eBooks, and the other hand is much more to get the right way.

Each one of those who are associated with it to ensure that your backyard either for wine making.You cannot afford any mistakes in the end of this as grapes are ready to be planted in an area in North America.Because this practice goes back even as a form of basic necessity rather than using its energy to ripen fully.I would work with them a good amount of rainfall.The trellis will need to always be corrected by adding what it needs to be required from you.

There, they'll know what will work the best climate for between 30 to 90 days.And though most Muscadine cultivars need cross- pollination with a little homework to learn about its varieties.Deer can be cultivated in areas where climate is mild, wind-free days with no rain.The reason for this is that if you don't plant your new found skill...A trellis can be a sign of healthy grapevines are also essential because without it the most popular varieties of grapes grow best in the ground.

Can I Grow A Grape Vine From A Cutting

Pruning during early spring when temperatures are already warm enough.These varieties have shown that adding fertilizer and the drainage is very essential for grape growing.If there is nothing more satisfying and quality of grapes.The location you select the perfect place.Grapevine is one of them will survive in areas where the climatic conditions, soil and ensure enough anchorage to the hybrid grape to plant.

When pruning select side shoots consistently as they are still the most common things a person thinks about when you start building your own home garden?Many varieties have shown their worth over many years and are easy to add that grape growing tips will keep your plants getting to your area?You can use the European and American species to suit your climate.From serious care, choosing the type of soil you and the varieties of grapes you intend to grow.It takes about three years before they start producing grapes.

#How To Grow Laurens Grape Poppy Best Diy Ideas #Mighty Grape Grow

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thetravellingvagrant · 5 years

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Day 9: Iquitos- In Which I Could Have Touched A Sloth, If I Really Tried

I'm gonna be honest with you; this entry may as well just be exactly the same text as yesterday's one but with the pictures of the animals changed. We did nearly exactly the same things; woke up; ate a breakfast of shitty children's cereal which I still couldn't taste; waited for the rain to stop, which it did not, before decided to go out, to an animal sanctuary, regardless. The sanctuary in question, today was one named Pilpintuwasi and boasted a bit of a richer selection of animals than yesterday's offering, for us to gawp at, slack jawed, like the idiots we are. It also had a butterfly farm attached to it. Which, y'know. Fine.

We took a motor-taxi to Bellavista; the port from which we had left for the rainforest, a few days prior, ignored all the big fatty grubs, roasting on skewers and made our way to the 'colectivo' boat; which I can best describe as a very cheap bus-boat... sort of thing. You do better.

The colectivo whisked us away to the mid-sized jungle town of Padre Coche, in around thirty minutes or so. Once there, we got on board yet another motor-taxi – the novelty of which still haven't worn off for me- which took us to the sanctuary, proper. Excited at the prospect of seeing sloths, we wandered along a covered, wooden walkway into the reception.

This’n, here.

We paid the entrance fee; a frankly staggering 30 soles (...around £6.50, but again, our budgeting has been a bit lacklustre.) and were met by our guide, Reese. A Welshman, but I didn't hold that against him, as he was, otherwise, really quite nice. He was new in Pilpintuwasi and had given up eating leeks and voting for Brexit to volunteer at the sanctuary, full time. Reese delivered a professional, yet personable tour throughout, despite the fact that, in the intermittent period between our arrival and our setting off into the grounds of the sanctuary, the heavens had properly opened and we were entirely saturated with water, almost the moment we stepped outside. I'm glad I chose to wear my khakis. Did you know they get ever so slightly see-through when wet. I didn't.

The park itself was large, sprawling and housed a myriad (menagerie?) of exotic animals (most of which, again, were being primed for release into the wild). I won't list them off, in this particular entry, as I'm very tired and would much rather just coil into a ball and die than dispassionately list a series of different animals what I saw, but I definitely will dump a load of pictures of them, afterwards. Just be aware that they were all basically great (apart from the butterflies, which. Y'know. Fine.)

After an hour or so of squelching through the rain, our time at the sanctuary and with Reese drew to a close. Once more we were offered the opportunity to amble about to our hearts content, which we did, briefly, following a (really quite rare) Uakari monkey

Also called the English Monkey, because it has an angry little red face and ginger hair, which honestly, is a bit rude.

taking pictures while it chewed on leaves and very obviously wished we would just fuck off and leave it alone, but, as with yesterday, Sam's illness very selfishly began flaring up and we had to leave.

We walked back to the colectivo through Padre Coche, which we thought would be quite fun, but actually ended up being an unexpectedly harrowing experience; the town is jam-packed with stray dogs in various states of disrepair. Some mangy, some lame, some basically dead; quite a lot all three. We put our heads down and powered through to the dock, trying not to think about the nightmarish dog concentration camp we had just walked through and hopped back onto the boat, vowing to never speak of the horrors we had just witnessed. Shockingly, and very, very irritatingly, it was incredibly cold in Iquitos, today. You don't really expect it in the rainforest, but honestly, I stepped off the boat, back in Bellavista, noticeable shivering. What the fuck, the Amazon? That's like the one thing you're supposed to be good at.

I stopped briefly at one of the market stalls to buy myself a little sausage and a skewer of...some weird massive seeds, whose name I have forgotten, both of which almost certainly gave me worms, and ate them clumsily on the motor-taxi ride back to our apartment, spilling my bottle of water over my just-about-dry khakis, making it look like I'd pissed myself in the process. It was all coming up, Millhouse.

Once inside, we took some hot showers, to warm ourselves back up, from being in the rainforest, before getting our respective bibbles on, writing blogs, reading books and watching the final of the Copa America on our generously proportioned TV. Peru lost by the way. Of course they did.

Soon though, hunger - that big bastard -reared its ugly head once more and, given that we had almost no food whatsoever in the flat and the thought of walking to and from the supermarket and then cooking something was enough to make us both genuinely angry, we decided to just treat ourselves to a meal out. Budget be damned! (I was very worried about the budget).

We went to a little restaurant on the boulevard called the Amazon Bistro, took our seats, ordered some food and waited, listening to the soothing ambiance of the Amazon...being totally drowned out by a playlist of 80s power-ballads. Then we waited some more. And some more, after that... Finally, after around half an hour, our drinks arrived. A bottle of water, each. How did this take thirty minutes? Whatever the reason, it did not bode well for the rest of our meal.

Eventually, after sixteen and a half years, our food appeared. Sort of. My order was quite badly botched and instead of bacon, they had just smeared my burger with horrible mushrooms, in a thick mushroomy sauce, which, as anyone who knows me will surely already be aware of, I treat essentially as a war crime. Now in a bad mood, but in no way wanting to wait another hour for a sub-par burger with the actually correct toppings, I scraped the mushrooms to the side and ate everything they hadn't touched. To add insult to injury, halfway through the meal, our waitress returned to the table to – I think, anyway- tell me that she had gotten my order wrong, but also apparently to do nothing about it? Fine. It didn't matter; I couldn't taste it properly, anyway, so in a way, I win.

The least happy meal I have eaten on this entire trip, including those little baby squid, now over, we dragged ourselves along the five minute walk back to the apartment, tucked ourselves into bed, eager to begin a new leg of the journey, and generally also not just be sweaty literally all the time, tomorrow.

#travelling #vagrant #peru #iquitos #pilpintawasi #butterfly #farm #sloths #tapir #jaguar #ocelot #jungle #amazon #animals #travel #photograph #photography

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