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liaromancewriter · 1 year

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The Unexpected Valentine

Premise: The interns celebrate their first Valentine’s Day in Boston, and it’s full of surprises.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Cassie Valentine (F!MC); feat. Sienna Trinh, Bryce Lahela, Jackie Varma, Elijah Greene Rating/Category: General. Fluff. Words: 1,790

A/N: Submission for @choicesficwriterscreations Valentine's Day event; for @choicesmonthlychallenge Valentine's Day platonic prompt - candy hearts; @choices-february2023 Day 14 "Valentine's Day".

The nurses’ stations on almost every floor were festooned in pink and white paper hearts. Some diehard romantics wore red heart pins on their scrubs, while others smiled more than usual, humming jaunty tunes as they did their work.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t until the end of the week, but that didn’t stop people from getting into the spirit early. Nurse Sarah was responsible for this year’s resident Secret Valentine Exchange and was determined to make it the best one yet.

All she needed was to track down one stubborn intern that had managed to avoid detection. But Sarah was on a mission, and nothing and no one would get in her way.

Cassie Valentine wasn’t thinking of anything but her latest patient. She was working with a new attending, one who seemed to disappear whenever she needed guidance. She was a February intern and could fly solo easily for less complicated cases. This case was anything but usual.

She missed working with Dr. Ramsey, even if the man was more likely to ask questions than provide answers. But at least his questions pushed her to think out of the box. Not go round and round in circles.

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice someone chasing her or calling her name until a hand fell on her shoulder. Startled, she turned her head to see Nurse Sarah breathing heavily and clutching her waist as if she had a stitch on the side.

“Wow, you’re a really fast walker,” Sarah huffed. “I chased you down two hallways, and you’re not even winded.”

Cassie knew she’d been practically running, as she often did when thinking, and felt sorry for the other woman.

“I’m sorry, Sarah. I was lost in thought,” Cassie said sincerely. “How can I help?”

Sarah held out a post-it note and pen. “You haven’t entered your name in the Secret Valentine Exchange. Today is the last day. We’ll pick names at the end of shift.”

“Yeah, I don’t do V-Day,” Cassie said, not even bothering to hide her disdain for the holiday, which wasn’t really a holiday but a marketing gimmick.

“But your last name is Valentine,” Sarah sputtered.

Cassie just knew this would come up. She loved romance, but all her life, she had to contend with people making fun as soon as February started because of the peculiarity of her last name.

She lifted her chin mulishly. “Your point is…?”

“It’s practically your day,” Sarah said in a tone that implied it should be obvious. And then she waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, everyone else is signed up, and the numbers will be uneven if you don’t. So, it’s required.”

Cassie wanted to argue and stick to her principles, but Sarah’s determined expression told her there was no point. That didn’t mean she would take it lying down. She took the post-it and pen, scribbled a name, and handed Sarah the folded paper.

Smugly satisfied, Sarah thanked her and returned to her station.

“What was that about?”

Thinking she was alone, Cassie practically jumped at the masculine voice behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Ethan standing in the patient room doorway.

Her heart skipped a beat as it often did in his presence, and her green eyes filled with longing before she schooled her features into a neutral expression.

“Stupid Valentine’s Day,” she muttered under her breath.

He must have had bat ears because he heard her clearly. The quick, amused grin that flashed across his face was disarming, as was the warmth in his blue eyes. Despite her best intentions to keep things professional, she was charmed and wished he would smile more.

“Not a fan?” he drawled, leaning against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. “I have to say, I’m surprised.”

“Join the club.” She rolled her eyes.

The shrill sound of a pager—his—cut the moment short. She thought he looked grim as he read the message and wondered if it was about Naveen.

Before she could ask him about it, he dropped the pager in his coat pocket, gave her a brief nod, and walked away without another word.

A few days later, Cassie walked into Edenbrook for her shift with Sienna bubbling in excitement beside her, a baker’s box full of heart-shaped cookies clutched in her hands. Her friend had been like this for several days, eager for Valentine’s Day and a romantic dinner with her idiot of a boyfriend.

Of course, Sienna didn’t think Wayne was an idiot despite evidence to the contrary. It took all of Cassie’s self-control not to shake her and make her see Wayne for the supercilious loser he was. But that’s not what friends did.

If Sienna was happy with Wayne, Cassie had no right to interfere or make her feel bad about it. Not like Jackie often did, which inevitably led to Sienna retreating to her room on the pretense of studying.

She would be supportive and pleasant, even if it killed her. Besides, Wayne would show his true colors eventually. Cassie had met enough people like that to know it was only a matter of time.

“He still hasn’t told me where we’re going,” Sienna said as they swiped in and walked into the near-empty locker room. “But I dropped enough hints about this French bistro I want to try. So, fingers crossed!”

Cassie flushed when she realized Sienna was looking expectantly at her, and she hadn’t heard a word Sienna said until now. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

Wanting to make amends for her inattentiveness, she gave Sienna a one-armed hug. “I’ll make sure you get out of here on time. Tell you what. If you want to leave early to get ready, just page me, and I’ll cover your patients.”

“Thanks, Cassie,” Sienna said, smiling widely. “I might take you up on that.”

They both turned away to change into scrubs. Cassie unfastened her bag and saw the square-shaped red jewelry box for the Secret Valentine Exchange. She’d been ecstatic to get Sienna’s name in the draw and had known exactly what to buy her bestie.

Now it was just a matter of getting Sienna out of the way so she could hide it in her locker for later.

“I’m going to find Danny and Raf before shift starts, give them their cookies,” Sienna told her, slamming the locker door shut. “See you at morning sign-out?”

“You bet.”

Cassie waited for a beat in case Sienna came back. Judging the coast to be clear, she took out the jewelry box, tucked a Secret Valentine note into the seam, and placed it on the shelf next to Sienna’s tote so she wouldn’t miss it.

“I thought I got Sienna in the Secret Valentine Exchange,” a male voice said behind her.

Caught unawares for the second time in so many days, Cassie jumped and spun on her heels to face Bryce. He was leaning against one of the lockers, a small bouquet of pink roses in his hands, brows furrowed in confusion.

Before Cassie could respond, Jackie walked into view with Elijah following, each holding a present.

“What’s up, meathead?” Jackie asked, brushing past Bryce to set the gift bag on the bench.

She cocked her head when she saw Cassie standing in front of Sienna’s open locker and the red jewelry box.

“Wait a minute,” she started, looking first at Cassie, then Bryce and the flowers he was holding. “Are those Sienna’s Secret Valentine presents? Because I got her name in the draw.”

“That’s interesting,” Elijah said, joining the three of them in front of Sienna’s locker. “I got her name too.”

The four friends stared at each other perplexed, and then Cassie burst into laughter as she put two and two together.

“You all know I don’t believe in V-Day,” she said, swallowing back giggles. “So when Nurse Sarah cornered me, I put Sienna’s name in the draw instead of mine.”

Bryce chuckled. “I did the same but for different reasons. Sienna really gets into all the holiday stuff. I didn’t want to take the chance she’d get a dud.”

Cassie threw Jackie a challenging look. “How much of a coincidence is it you entered Sienna’s name too?”

Jackie rolled her eyes, but her grin gave her away. “I felt bad riding her about Wayne last week. Figured if she got two presents, it might make up for him canceling on her tonight.”

She twisted her lips in derision. “Let’s face it. The jerk has a track record of canceling on her at the last minute. At least now she can drown her sorrows in Belgian chocolate.” She lightly shook the bag.

Elijah slowly raised his hand. “So, I might have entered Sienna’s name too. She does so much to cheer everyone up. Like Bryce, I didn’t want to chance it she’d get dissed by someone with crappy tastes. By the way, I asked Landry to write her name too. I calculated the odds based on the number of entries and figured one of us had a strong shot of drawing her name.”

Elijah finished confessing and lifted the gift bag off his lap. “I got her candy hearts and a funny card.”

Bryce whistled softly. “Sienna definitely hit the Valentine’s Day jackpot today.”

And then they all laughed as they gathered around her locker, trying to stuff their presents inside. Their friend was about to get the surprise of her life.

They were arguing about how to organize everything when Sienna rushed into the locker room, muttering under her breath.

She stopped abruptly at seeing her friends assembled around her open locker. Her eyes widened in surprise at the gift bags and flowers, their distinct floral scent filling the air.

Before she could ask what was going on, Cassie, Bryce, Elijah and Jackie descended upon her and dumped their presents in her hands.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Si!”

It was the end of shift, and the hospital was buzzing as it often did during the changeover. Nurse Sarah rubbed the back of her neck and rolled her shoulders to get the kinks out. She absently wondered what the residents had gotten each other for the Secret Valentine Exchange.

She’d meant to follow up, but her day had been busier than usual. Now she was tired and looking forward to celebratory drinks with her friends. It was too bad she didn’t have a man this Valentine’s Day to shower her with presents.

She was almost at the exit when she spied Dr. Trinh walking ahead, laughing with her usual group of friends. Sarah took in the brightly wrapped presents and bouquet of roses in the young doctor’s arms and thought, Lucky Lady.

-------------------

All Fics & Edits: @a-crepusculo @annfg8 @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @takemyopenheart @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

#open heart #ethan ramsey #choices open heart #open heart fanfics #playchoices #choices fanfics #open heart fanfiction #sienna trinh #bryce lahela #oph gang #writers on tumblr #choices fic writers creations #choicesfebruary2023 #cfwc valentine 2023 #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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walker-extended-universe · 9 months

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This Old Song and Dance

Ship: August Walker/Sadie Yoo

Tags/Warnings: Wild West AU, Flirting, Social Expectations, Dancing, Piano

Summary: In which Sadie is a dancer, August plays the piano, and there's a routine they know all too well. It's a routine they perform every night, even when Sadie isn't onstage.

Written for @yeehawgust Week 3 Prompt 15: Desert Rose

Taglist: @ihavepointysticks, @theladywyn, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

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Sadie wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the full moon but the hotel was lively tonight and she and her dancers weren’t even on stage yet. “Got quite a crowd out there. Stay sharp, ladies.” There was a general “No Touching” rule in place but she knew very well how a little too much liquid courage could make even the finest member of the community forget his manners and the owner of the hotel wasn’t always inclined to step in. She double-checked where her knife was held in her garters and practiced her smile one last time before they were called out.

It was all the same song and dance. A full house of leering men that were perhaps a little too close for comfort. A jaunty tune on the piano to keep the energy up and the drinks flowing. Practiced choreography almost going to waste since the audience is just looking for a shoulder shake and a too-high flip of a skirt.

And then it was time to mingle. None of the girls were expected to do anything, but men were more than happy to buy drinks for them. Sadie hated this part of the night the most. The wandering hands, the lingering looks, the unwanted advances…. If she could get away with stabbing a few eyes out, half the men in town would be blind. Instead, she smiled and counted the money she’d be getting on her next paycheck. Most men knew how to back off when her smile faded and her fingernails dug into their arm.

But there was always one.

“Don’t be shy, darlin’. Just one night.”

“No, I don’t do that sort of thing.”

“Oh, come now. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“She said no, Sean.”

Sadie couldn’t help but smirk a bit. August knew very well that she could take care of herself; all the girls could. But he always stepped in when the crowd got too rowdy, the men too demanding. It was sweet, if unnecessary.

Sean grumbled something about just asking and wandered to the other side of the bar. August turned to Sadie, face melting from stern to concerned. “Are you okay, Miss Yoo?”

She chuckled. “Just fine, Mister Walker. Say, when are we closing?”

“Another hour or two, Miss.”

This was another song and dance. August “rescuing” her when she didn’t ask, checking up on her periodically for the rest of the night, and closing up a little early if she asked so the girls could get home and Sadie could get comfortable. He didn’t own the place but his family was good friends with the owner, Ms. Broussard, so his word was as good as law whenever she wasn’t around (which was often at night). If Sadie took advantage of that every now and then, that was just compensation for poor working conditions.

After the hotel closed, Sadie changed into something more comfortable before going back downstairs for the next song and dance. A soft piano melody drifted up the stairwell and she practically danced to it on her way down. August’s main role was technically maintenance but he played the piano for their shows and he told her in secret one night that he had aspirations of being a “real musician”. Sometimes he shared his music with her. Sounded like it was one of those nights.

“That sounds new,” she said as she descended the last steps. “Something you’re working on?”

August glanced up from the keys, the lamplight just barely revealing his blush. “Uh, yeah. I- I got inspired recently….”

Sadie smiled and sat on the bench next to him. “Yeah? Inspired by what?”

He stopped playing just long enough to make a note on his sheet music. “You,” he said softly, voice almost covered by the scratch of pencil on paper.

“Mister Walker, are you telling me you wrote me a song?” she teased.

His blush darkened. “Well…yes.”

“What’s it called?”

“Uh…. My Desert Rose.”

“Poetic.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Play it for me?”

He nodded, flipping back to the beginning of his sheet music and starting to play. Once he got past the first page, once he started to play confidently, she left his side and danced on the stage. Just for a moment, she let herself live in a world where this was the only song and dance she had a part to play in. Just her, her lover, and their music. No more leering outlaws, no more just scraping by, no more lingering stares from people who didn’t understand why a “good boy” like him would love a foreign outcast like her. Just them and the piano and her steps.

He came up to her room that night, and they danced to a different song until the light of dawn broke through her window.

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2023 #walker #walker fic #walker fanfic #my fic #my writing #august/sadie

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brucie-bruce-waynee · 2 years

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The Actor and the Billionaire Part 2

(~2k words)

(Apologies for the late upload. This fic didn’t get quite the traction I was expecting on here but I’ll post the entire thing regardless.)

Gotham in the morning had this wet kind of light. It was weak but pointed as if it could shatter after stabbing you. Your sunglasses slid down your nose, and you pushed them back up. The car you were being driven in was taking sharper turns than you wanted, but you wouldn’t complain. You were getting free breakfast soon.

Cinnamon wiggled happily in his doggie car seat, smearing his excited snot across the window. You’d decided to bring him out with you since you hadn’t spent an extended period with him in at least three days. You had a dog walker, but he missed his bubby. You missed him too, as much of a pain, he could be. There was nothing more you loved than your sweet little furry son-boy.

Cameras clicked as you emerged from your car with the assistance of your driver, Ivan. He helped Cinnamon down from the backseat and turned to you.

“Thank you, Ivan. You can head back to the parking garage. I’m sure Mr. Wayne will bring me back home.”

Ivan gave you a jaunty salute, and you were left alone with Cinnamon circling around your feet. You’d made sure to check that this place was pet friendly. The Garden was one of the more upscale breakfast cafes in the inner city, but nobody could resist the cuteness of a dog. It was lucky that this happened to be one of the few restaurants in Gotham that was indeed pet friendly.

Mr. Wayne was standing by the restaurant entrance, looking generally nervous but sharp in all black. He wore a large overcoat, which shielded your eyes from the rest of his outfit. His eyes were covered with rectangular glasses, but you could see the remnants of dark bags poking out from the plastic. You realized it wasn’t bruising from lack of sleep but more like makeup remnants as you got closer.

Hmm. Odd.

“You have a dog,” Mr. Wayne said in place of hello or good morning. You stopped right next to him and angled your face to his ear.

“Yes! I was thinking it might be better if we’re seen going to more than just breakfast, so I brought Cinnamon along to take him for a walk in the park. Just if the weather stays favorable enough. Plus, he’s going to have to get used to your scent if we’re going to spend time together.”

Cinnamon was circling your pretend beau, catching his leash around Mr. Wayne’s ankles as you spoke. The man seemed to freeze on the spot and didn’t move until you’d untangled him. But he moved too quickly, and one last go around with the leash pushed him into you. Neither of you went sprawling, but he did press his entire front to yours. He nearly jumped away from you as you laughed.

“Cinnamon! I’m so sorry,” you said between giggles. “He’s always getting into trouble.”

The three of you entered the restaurant then. Breakfast came and went with scripted conversation points that could be discussed loud enough for other patrons to overhear. Cinnamon was happily gobbling up his doggy breakfast under the table. Getting the upper-class rumor mill going was sure to blast the two of you upwards. Only when Mr. Wayne asked you about Cinnamon did you go off-script.

“Oh isn’t he just an angel? I love him so much. When I got my first paycheck, I contacted all the shelters in Gotham to see what puppies they had. As soon as I heard Italian Greyhound litter, I was out the door.”

Cinnamon, constantly aware of when people talked about him, stretched his little paws up Mr. Wayne’s leg. He wasn’t begging for food but for pets. The tiny dog dissolved into enthusiastic wiggles when Bruce Wayne hesitantly began petting Cinnamon. You couldn’t help the large grin that split across your face at the two interacting. Mr. Wayne had such a softness in his eyes that you had yet to see directed at anything else.

“I’ve had him since he was about nine weeks old. The donor of the puppies had an Iggy that had mingled with the neighbors Iggy. I heard from the shelter owner that both dogs got fixed after the incident but I’m so thankful that I got my little guy here.”

Bruce Wayne smiled ever so slightly at the antics of your little baby, and it melted your heart. Cinnamon’s breakfast was all but abandoned for pets by this new person. If Cinnamon approved, that was all you needed. If only this was an actual breakfast date.

“Are you an animal lover,” you asked, twisting one of your rings around your right ring finger.

Mr. Wayne straightened in his chair.

“I wouldn’t say no, but I don’t have any animals. My job wouldn’t allow for me to keep pets.”

You hummed sympathetically. Cinnamon curled himself around your ankles, and you gave him a couple of soft scratches.

“But Cinnamon is a ball of energy one moment and zen the next. Is that normal,” Mr. Wayne asked, signaling for the bill. There was a minor battle about cards in the billfold, but he eventually won.

“Oh yeah. Iggy’s are all about energy. When I know I’m not going to be home, I have a dog walker come stay at my place so he can be walked three times a day,” you said, scooping up the last of your breakfast.

“Three times a day?”

The bill was paid, and you made your way to a park down the street. Your arm was curled safely in Mr. Wayne’s, and the two of you watched as Cinnamon wiggled his little butt down the sidewalk in the park. Mr. Wayne had slid the sunglasses back on his face, and you matched him.

“Italian Greyhounds were used for hunting hares or rabbits and can run up to speeds of thirty-seven miles per hour in short bursts. But they were also companion dogs like they are now. So they’re bred for short-distance sprinting, which is why they’re still used as racing dogs. They need a lot of attention because they’re sensitive and active. So, I try my best and bring him to set when allowed, but this lifestyle isn’t ideal for him,” you finished with a tinge of sadness in your voice.

“He seems pretty happy right now,” Mr. Wayne muttered. You both spotted a paparazzi simultaneously and slowed for a moment to let them get a good shot. Gross. The only time you would ever willingly pose for paparazzi. This was the part of the job you liked the least.

“He just missed his bubby, that’s all. Didn’t you, Cinnamon?”

At the sound of ‘bubby,’ your dog turned around and demanded pets. Veering off to a bench, the two humans sat on the bench. Cinnamon jumped up between you and Mr. Wayne.

“Oh you’re just my little man aren’t you? My little Romeo?”

Your dog was going nuts, letting out eager whines and putting his paws on your thigh to lick your face. Mr. Wayne was petting his back, a gentle smile on his face again. Cinnamon turned to him and started licking his chin. You laughed and pulled your dog away, putting him on the ground again.

“Well, you’re Cinnamon approved,” you said with a laugh.

“I’m glad.”

The three of you walked for another hour, then went back to the restaurant so Alfred could drive you back to your respective homes.

“Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Wayne.”

You started to slide out of the backseat, but Mr. Wayne caught your wrist.

“Please, call me Bruce.”

You smiled, gave him your name, and went inside to let your tired puppy nap.

A week had gone by, and you knew you needed to be seen out with Bruce again. The breakfast and walk had been an enormous success. Alfred said that some investors were more interested in Wayne Enterprises. You’d just been so busy with your filming schedule, and Bruce’s marketing team was relentless with Jamie.

During this week apart, you’d been texting nonstop with Bruce. It took you about three hours to wrangle his favorite color out of him, but it was smooth sailing after that. You were telling jokes, and he was telling you he thought they were funny since he didn’t seem to fully grasp the concept of emojis. You never thought you would be fond of Bruce Wayne at the beginning of this endeavor, but here you were, making fun of him for his whacked-out sleep schedule. A text from him pinged on your phone, and you opened up the conversation again.

‘What’s your alibi for staying up at 3 am in Gotham?’

‘I’m an actor ahsjdj it’s my job to have long hours!!’

‘Rehearsing lines, trying on costumes, being in makeup chairs’

‘And I’m not staying up until 3 am. I wake UP at 3 am to get into hair and makeup for the day’

‘Okay, okay. Truce. I could never be an actor. I’ll leave that profession to you.’

You giggled as your hairdresser fit a wig cap on your head.

‘You better!’

‘I know you’d wipe the floor with me with those pouty lips and sad puppy dog eyes you have’

Bruce went silent after that, and you figured he passed out finally.

“Did you really fire Anthony last week? He seemed like a nice guy,” Beth, your hairdresser, said. You sighed, and your good mood went with it. Why was everyone so concerned about this man? He wasn’t anything special. In fact, he was a pretty big creep.

“He was… staying in my apartment far longer than I would like every night and nothing I said would make him leave. I just didn’t feel safe around him anymore, which is the entire point of having a security guard.”

“Oh, so creepy! He seemed so nice,” Beth said, curling a piece of a wig with a curling iron. Human hair wigs never stopped amazing you.

You felt a flood of irritation. That’s how creeps always were, weren’t they? Always the nice guy until they were the “nice guy.”

“Yeah, well, he was fine. But he’s gone now,” you said flatly. There was a beat of silence as Beth adjusted your wig cap.

“So,” Beth said conspiratorially. “Bruce Wayne, huh? I didn’t think he was your type.”

You smiled coyly in the mirror at her, shrugging your shoulders. Look smitten; look lovestruck. Your eyes softened.

“He’s so unlike anything anyone expects from him,” you said.

Beth cooed, removing the wig from your head.

“Well, if I were Bruce Wayne, I’d make sure to keep a looker like you on my arm. Babe, if I wasn’t married, I’d ask for your hand on the spot.”

You laughed as she slid a blonde wig on your head, the curled look reminding you of Shirley Temple.

“How is your wife, by the way?”

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #battinson x reader #battinson fanfiction #batman x reader #the batman fanfic #the batman

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mitchipedia · 1 year

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I was standing on the sidewalk outside the pet store tapping on my phone. An old guy walked by very slowly, pushing a walker, with oxygen cannulae in his nostrils, wearing a jaunty Tyrolean hat.

“What did you do before you had those things?” he said.

I didn’t miss a beat. “Stared at the wall.”

He continued walking slowly on, laughing out loud.

— From my journal, this date in 2016.

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aquietanarchy · 1 year

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⏯ can I have "a walk in the woods in the spring" for the mixtape ask meme?

This was so much fun to put together! Lots of folksy acoustic stuff ahead, lol.

This song is upbeat, jaunty, and incredibly folksy. Very appropriate for a springtime forest walk :)

This song just brings me so much joy. It feels exciting, and fresh; I imagine walking by a creek overflowing with snowmelt while trees push out new green shoots

The lyrics of this one are rich in woodland imagery. Thematically, it's like the essence of courage distilled into music. Very poetic song.

Beautiful spoken word over a layered instrumental. Hopeful, uplifting, mellow, definitely reminds me of spring.

And to close out the mixtape, here's this gorgeous instrumental. It's so calming, and there's an ethereal quality to it as well. This one is on heavy rotation on my playlist for creative writing work :)

Loved the prompt! Hope you enjoy the music ☺️

#answered #mixtape vibe meme #fannish-snailien #music

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themidnightramblers · 5 months

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Meet The Midnight Ramblers Band Members (& other important people)

Mal Walker

The Ramblers’ founding member, original leader, and resident genius. Sometimes known to fans and bandmates as “Mad Mal,” he famously named the group by riffing on his favorite Muddy Waters song, “Ramblin’ Kid Blues.” Word on the street is Mal scribbled the lyrics to their first single on the newspaper wrapper for his fish ’n’ chips one lost drunken night in London. This peerless track, “Bought on the Never Never,” cribbed a sly bit of street slang, turning it into a youth anthem and the band’s debut hit. Mal was as renowned for his ability to metabolize a king’s ransom of drugs, as for his savant-like talent for mastering any instrument, from electric guitar and bass to sitar and the many esoteric percussion doo dads gathered during his frequent forays to faraway lands, including Morocco and Brazil. He was also celebrated for his stylish fitted trousers, which left little to the imagination, flared Byron-esque sleeves and dramatic headdresses — sometimes a velvet cap with a jaunty feather, sometimes a literal crown, made of flowers or gold. He will forever be equated with effortless “it boy” cool, as personified by actor Jude Law in his BAFTA-winning performance in the biopic Mad Mal. Devastatingly, Mal drowned in the swimming pool of the band’s Los Angeles rental house in August 1969, the night before the Ramblers’ celebrated free show at the Hollywood Bowl. Although the incident was ruled “death by misadventure” because of the epic mix of drugs in his blood at the time, his loyal fans have always considered it suspicious that he was left out of rehearsal that night. It has long been debated: Was he really alone in the water, and what secrets might be held in the vault by his then-wife, Anke Berben, who was also home? Such rumors were fueled by the torn-from-the-headlines book The Last Days of the Midnight Ramblers, written by the band’s American chauffeur, Syd Nelson, who published his tell-all in 1970, only to overdose on heroin that year. Whatever the truth, although Mal’s flame burned far too briefly, it has never dimmed in our hearts, where his transcendent music will live on forever.

Anke Berben

A beautiful phoenix, arising from the rubble of Europe’s darkest decade, she was born in Germany after World War II. Her father died from injuries incurred at the Battle of Berlin, leaving her mother to raise her, although Anke has long claimed her identity as a self-made lone wolf. Working as a shop girl — surely the coolest, most daring, fashionable young woman then on the street, she was discovered as a model at 16. While filling her portfolio with stunning shots, she became the first woman to pose topless on the cover of an international art magazine, making her the desirable date for artists and rockers alike, including Mal, who swept her up into his glittery entourage when she attended the Ramblers’ 1968 show in Berlin. For the next eight years, Anke would be like a sixth member of the band, feeding its fashion sense, exuding influence during rehearsals, shows, and a million backstage moments. Although Mal was seeing another young woman, who was pregnant at the time of his death, Anke was his wife, and she will always be his widow. But she never slept alone for long in her gilded youth and would soon go on to form a love square within the band. Drawn close by their raw grief over Mal’s passing, she and Dante fell together and had a son, Ody (named for Odin, the God of War). While Anke was candid about her struggles with heroin, she remained a timeless beauty and style setter, and had a five-year relationship with Ramblers frontman Jack Edwards, in the ’70s. Her legend grew when she left the raucousness of rock and ’n’ roll, taking up residence on a sailboat with Ody and her final love, Fritz, picking up inspiration in their many ports of call. Having lived more than her nine lives, as a love child of the world, she gathered her influences and experiences into her jewelry line, sought after for decades by rockers and fashionistas. Known for her effortless elegance, elevated Boho fashion, and dry wit, Anke remains a cultural force in her own right.

Dante Ashcombe

There are musicians and then there are certifiable guitar gods, one with their instrument with a level of attunement that is almost mystical — think B.B. King and Lucille, Willie Nelson and Trigger, George Harrison and Lucy, and, of course, Dante Ashcombe and his Fender Telecaster, the Duchess. Known for his unique tuning style and his ability to embellish every Ramblers song with the perfect mix of grit and finesse, all he needed was the right alchemic conditions to ignite his genius, which he found when he caught a set by Jack’s first band, the Lads. The two bonded over their passion for American blues and gender-bending fashion, forging a friendship with enough one-upmanship for each to incite the other to write, practice, and perform with greater intention and intensity, pushing their style and sound to the limits of respectability and beyond. Dante’s potential for revealing aspects of this iconic relationship, as well as his previously unrevealed insights into what happened at the band’s rental house the night Mal met his terrible end, have made Dante’s memoir eagerly anticipated. A modern-day Renaissance rocker, he has quite a story to tell. While there is no Dante without Duchess, the instrument is really just one component of his total rock persona. With his effortless pirate-captain style, Cleopatra-esque black eyeliner, and an easy laugh for all he meets, like a schoolboy on holiday, Dante created the mold in which the next four generations of rockers would hope to be forged into a player and performer with an ounce of his verve. Perhaps no moment in his life better exemplifies his bohemian supremacy than the 18 months he and Anke were pop culture’s golden couple, deeply in love and perfectly matched, forming a family and inspiring Dante’s most heartfelt songwriting. How ever much Dante has always loved to perform, and never met a party he wouldn’t crash, in later years, he would go on to keep his home life a priority, becoming known as much for being a family man as a musical mythmaker.

Jack Edwards

What does it take to front the world’s biggest, boldest rock band for more than five decades, and to keep the songwriting, stage show, and sex appeal as fresh and fraught as on day one? The kind of peacock-feathered charisma and purely radiant star power seen only once or twice each generation. We’re talking about an Oscar Wilde. A Little Richard. A Kurt Cobain. A true original. On top of a totally matchless creativity, add in a keen eye for trend setting fashion and a level head for business, not to mention the skills of a strong leader and an astute diplomat, and the wordsmithing genius of one of the greatest street poets of the rock ’n’ roll era. A hunger for experience has led Jack to form liaisons of the sexual, romantic, and creative stripe with a who’s who of fellow musicians, artists, designers, and more than his fair share of models — adding up to eight children with six different women (and that’s just the official count), plus whispers that he was the lover of several of his generation’s hottest male rock stars. A chameleon, an enigma, he is always perfectly put together and gracious, whether leaving the club at dawn or high tea at noon, and yet, he gives away little of his true thoughts and feelings. Perhaps he chooses to save his deepest musings for his songs, which continue to be as distinctive and potent as anything he wrote when he dropped out of university, taking up with Dante and Mal with little more than a second-hand guitar, a tambourine, and a daring new vision for the blues. While Jack has been wise enough to let his legacy speak for itself, shying away from addressing rumors of friction in his creative partnership with Dante or any other inner workings of the band, he is always eager to discuss his own artistic wellspring—which he notoriously feeds by reading poetry, traveling the world, and indulging in passionate love affairs.

Mal drowned at the Midnight Rambler’s Los Angeles rental house in 1969. He was found to have Quaaludes, alcohol, marijuana, and acid in his system so many have thought he just lived too hard and died too young. But then the band’s chauffeur, Syd, alleged that there may have been foul play.

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dannyfoley · 5 months

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Turner Prize: Jesse Darling wins for 'delirious' art using tattered flags and barbed wire

By Ian Youngs

Entertainment & arts reporter

5 December 2023

Jesse Darling's work in Turner Prize exhibition at Towner gallery in Eastbourne

Jesse Darling has given crowd control barriers legs and made them look like they are running amok

An exhibition featuring crowd control barriers that have gone out of control, twisted railway tracks, barbed wire and tattered union jack bunting - all making a comment on modern British life - has won this year's Turner Prize.

Jesse Darling picked up the prestigious art award and its £25,000 cheque at a ceremony in Eastbourne, East Sussex.

He has spoken about being inspired by his view of the effects of austerity, Brexit and the pandemic on the town, and the "hostile environment" immigration policy.

The artist says he uses objects that are cheap and easy to find, but that hold meaning for viewers

Speaking to BBC News after his win, he explained: "You have to love something to be able to critique it. I was born in this country and I'm looking at what's going on here.

"I wanted to make a work that reflected that, and I wanted to make work about Britain for the British public.

"Whether they like it or don't like it, it was a great honour and privilege to be able to do something so public for the British public."

Barbed wire and a piece of net curtain hang above a crumbling mock checkpoint at the gallery entrance

The judges praised his use of common objects like barriers, hazard tape, office files and net curtains "to convey a familiar yet delirious world".

"Invoking societal breakdown, his presentation unsettles perceived notions of labour, class, Britishness and power," they said.

Darling said he would spend his prize money on dentistry and rent

The chair of the judges, Tate Britain director Alex Farquharson, added that his art was "bold", "engaging" and partly a reflection on "the state of the nation".

"It's one element of it, one layer of it. I don't think it's the whole story. There is some sense, from his point of view, that these are times of crisis."

Tattered and faded union jack bunting hangs from the ceiling

In his acceptance speech, Darling also spoke up for the power of teaching children art in schools, and said Conservative governments had sent the message that self-expression and culture were "only for particular kinds of people from particular socio-economic backgrounds".

"Don't buy in. It's for everyone," he said.

At the end of his speech, Darling pulled a Palestinian flag out of his coat pocket and waved it.

Jesse Darling was many of the critics' favourite for the prize. His room of jaunty crash barriers and union jacks is inventive and original.

Darling - who was born in Oxford but lives and works in Berlin - has said he is reflecting the hostile environment in the UK towards immigration in this work.

The exhibition entrances are turned into checkpoints complete with barbed wire. But the space itself feels alive and humorous.

That's down to the crowd control barriers Darling has sculpted at prancing angles. This is anthropomorphising writ large - the very things that are used to corral people by the police are given a life of their own, turned into creatures that can't be controlled.

We're also surrounded by frilly curtains and a maypole adorned with police tape and anti-pigeon spikes.

Darling has said British towns these days are showing the effects of austerity, Brexit and Covid. He's riffing on that in a show that tackles nationhood and British identity.

All the four nominated artists were reflecting what's happening in Britain right now. In the end, Darling was felt by the judges to be a cut above.

The other nominated artists were Ghislaine Leung, Rory Pilgrim and Barbara Walker.

The Telegraph's art critic Alastair Sooke called Darling's room at Eastbourne's Towner gallery "the most exhilarating presentation I've encountered at the annual exhibition in recent years".

Files are filled with concrete as a comment on bureaucracy

Sooke wrote that the artist "offers an unruly vision of contemporary Britain as both ruinous and suffused with impish magic".

"Compared with such sculpturally compelling work, which boils and bubbles with brilliant ideas and touches, the offerings from the other shortlisted artists seem lukewarm."

Jesse Darling's work in Turner Prize exhibition at Towner gallery in Eastbourne

However, the Sunday Times' Waldemar Januszczak did not like Darling's entry. "I suppose it's a glumly poetic interpretation of Britain today," he wrote.

"Where it fails is in its overall visual impact. It's too bitty."

Jesse Darling's work in Turner Prize exhibition at Towner gallery in Eastbourne

Rollercoaster rails appear to crash through the gallery wall

Darling, 41, who only went to art school in his 30s, was nominated for two exhibitions in Oxford and London last year.

A cabinet contains hammers that are decorated like toys, with colourful ribbons and bells

#contemporary art #fine art #installation #sculpture #turner prize #jesse darling #brexit #borders #boundaries #political art #sculpture installation

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skyvinn · 1 year

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New Place, New Challenges. Part 1: Wilsons Prom, 20km Hike

Have you hiked before, of course. Have you done 20km non-stop with incline for most part, not really. Did you know what you were in for, NO.

It’s the weekend, and the temperatures have dipped to its mid-twenties. Your alarm goes off at 6am. You groan and your hand tap dances over the bedside table searching for a silent disco. You eventually switch the alarm off, curl up with the phone in hand wanting to snooze. Then you hear your cousin’s alarm go off, and you slowly push yourself up and out of bed.

Yes it is 6am on a weekend and you plan to be on the road by 6.30am for it’s a long journey to Wilsons Prom. Think 3 hours to the entrance of the reserve.

The drive is uneventful, you groan at the roadworks putting the car at 40km/h for a good 30min. You fall asleep – always great not to be the driver. When you awake, its closer to 8.30am and you are almost at the destination. But first a quick toilet bread and breakfast at a pitstop.

Soon you enter Wilsons Prom (to be exact, Promontory). You have reached Victoria’s frontier and the relatively unscathed raw beauty of nature is before you. You soon head up a trail which reads 2.5km to Fairy Cove and 4km to the tip where cliff meets sea.

Trek no. 1: Hello Nature!

You think, that’s doable! You’ve done more. You jauntily set of taking lead and soon discover the unique sandy and rocky of walking in bush trails. It will be your first time on such hiking grounds – most of your experience being forest/jungle trails.

10 minutes in and you mention to your cousin and his girlfriend, that it is a good thing your aunt chose to not go. For the incline is not a joke. Less than 10 minutes later, you get dizzy, your breath unregulated and you call for a stop. For the first time, you end up crouching on the ground trying to regulate your out-of-whack breathing. Your cousin says we could turn back and you look at him in horror – ‘turn back! We aren’t even halfway there!’. Two factors to this – climbing up seems to have been hard on you since you caught covid, your fitness at an all time low and that’s saying something given you aren’t very fit to begin with. The 2nd factor – the steep incline on a very jaunty speed, such a rookie mistake.

You eventually catch your breath and the incline tapers. You enjoy the rest on a relatively easier trek. Such is the trail to Fairy Cove – difficulty goes from hard to easy.

As you go up higher into the hills, you the ground starts turning rocky, the plants more desert-like. You see some dried out, some lush and green, some remnants after a bush fire. In some spots you think the fire to be a controlled one to prevent further spreads for it seemed to clinical the burns.

You come across the beautiful view of the coast when you climb high enough and you are greeted by boulders with facial features, they remind you of easter island. Some plants you recognise from you educational trip to Gardens by the Bay, others you don’t.

Eventually the trail splits and a marker points right for Fairy Cove – you hear the laughter of children by the bay and you think, we must be near. The marker says 1km to Fairy Cove. You look at your Fitbit, you have already covered more than 3km…What a lie those markers have!!!! You swear the markers meant perpendicular distance, the shortest and impossible route to Fairy Cove…

Your aim however is the tip of the cliff, and so you soldier on with your two walking buddies. It plateaus a little and so the walk is easier, you chit-chat, drink and, greet other walkers. In this semi-zoned out state, you cousin suddenly exclaims and raises his hand out to stop you.

Upfront, slithers a pretty decent sized brown snake. It heads towards you in smooth wave-like motion. FYI brown snakes are poisonous. You keep calm, back off and turn back. The trip to the tip to catch amazing views culled by a very lively brown snake, your first true animal sighting on this trek. Do you have pictures? Hell no! you believe in Keep Calm and Move on not Keep Ridiculously Calm and Take Pictures.

On your way back you see more people. You kindly warn them of the brown snake and move on. The groups you see are true to Australia’s eclecticism. Some in hiking gear, others showing off their amazing abs in gym clothes, and more uniquely two in slippers, shorts, tank tops and drinking beer.

You eventually reach the crazy incline portion (going down is always easier) and you happily knock into the very same tree you hit on the way up. Worse part, both times you ducked your head, both times you didn’t duck low enough…Such an embarrassing scene is capture by a group heading up. They are panting, sweating and looking ready to call it quits, so lucky for you they did not care to note of your ‘knock into tree’ moment. Instead, a girl asks you while panting, how much further is it.

You: mmm, *looks at Fitbit distance counter* it’s about 7km more, to and fro from here.

She: 7km!!! *looks ahead and despairs*

You: it gets better once you get past this point, all the best with your walk!

Later, you laugh with your cousin and ask, ‘do you think she will make it to Fairy Cove?’.

Trek no. 2: Hello IG worthy View

You move on to a famous viewpoint – Mount Oberon. For you Mt. Oberon is a fun name, it reminds you of the game Avalon and the ‘Oberon’ amongst your friends. Indeed Oberon is deceptive without knowing it. A 4km walk (accurate this time), it brings you on a constant but doable incline upwards. That it is till the last 0.5km or so. You been going on a constant spiral motion upwards when suddenly the trees give way to an open space up top. Then you look up. Yes, there are now stairs to get to the ‘top-top’.

Is it hard? Not exactly, most can do it. You dare say, even your parents getting on their years could, if they took it slow. Just maybe not those with difficulty walking, which makes you wonder with the way the trails are done at Wilson Prom, who will ever use the ‘wheelchair friendly’ parking lots?

Unfortunately, the trio of healthy of a young enough age, trekked upwards with heavy legs. As easy as described, it really isn’t a walk in the park after doing 7km of tough trekking. To the aches are coming at you as you plod on.

The view, before the top is nothing amazing. Boring to be the best descriptor. It reminds you of running around the track, the only thing keeping it fun is the conversations between the three. For example, talking about a lost hat being Ed Sheeren’s lol.

You eventually make it to the top, and all of a sudden it goes from warm to COLD. The gust of winds so strong, your hat floats up and thankfully you catch it before it floats away…

Trek no. 3: Hello kangaroos! Wallabies! Animals! Eh no hello bushland…

Finally, you stop at a place known for animal sightings. Your cousin came up before and said they were everywhere! Except they weren’t. You go off the beaten path, walk right through bushes. But all you see is the vast plains of bushland and dried animal droppings. Clearly, the past few days of near 40C heat had scared them into hiding or killed them as your cousin morbidly guesses. You choose to believe in the former, just hiding from PLAIN sight. Cos its FLAT and practically bare. Where could they hide? So animal sighting (ignoring the crows) – 1 Brown Snake. Animal count – pathetic. Animal sighting excitement – heart racing 150bpm inducing brown snake. Worth it? Of course!

Trek no. 4: the last bits that gave you the nice total of 20km

It is called walk back to the car and have your cousin drive 3+ hours back home. By the time you return from the daytrip, the summer sun had well-set and its hitting 9.30pm. You do a quick wash-up and head to bed. That night, you slept well.

#wilson prom #hiking #bush trails #victoria #australia

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trickster-whim · 2 years

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He really do be walking

This is the other black horse I got from Craigslist: Tennessee Walking Horse, Midnight Sun Tennessee Walker 60. He cannot stand lmao. I really like the paint details on his ribbon and how jaunty he looks 👍

#Trickster Whim Breyer horse adventure

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winningthesweepstakes · 2 years

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Tractor by Sally Sutton, illustrated by Brian Lovelock

Tractor by Sally Sutton, illustrated by Brian Lovelock. Walker Books, Candlewick Press, 2022. 9781536225044 Rating: 1-5 (5 is an excellent or a Starred review) 4 Format: Hardcover picture book What did you like about the book? Jaunty, rhythmic sing-song prose and bright, clear illustrations share with readers the many jobs of a farm’s tractor and its implements. Using pigmented inks,…

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#Candlewick Press #Walker Books

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walkingphotos · 5 years

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Today's Straggling Walking Photos: Well, I’m finally home, back in good ol’ Portland. Yesterday was a long day of travel, with a significant delay on my very last flight, so I got in late and there was just no way I was doing this post before turning in. So here you go now, just before I leave for today’s walk in my comfortable and familiar – and warm in relative terms – neighborhood. This is a collection of shots taken on Wednesday in Montreal, using both my good camera and my iPhone.

Wednesday’s walk was an afternoon outing with my sister, my Aunt Marie, my cousin Christine and her friend Françoise in search of Montreal’s popular food item, poutine. For those unfamiliar, the traditional poutine consists of a pile of french fries topped with cheese curds and a specially concocted gravy or sauce. Sort of the ultimate comfort food. Poutine has definitely made inroads into the States in recent years, but Montreal is regarded by many as the poutine mecca. Though I’ve visited Canada (Montreal and other cities) many times over the years, I’d never actually experienced poutine prior to this trip. Pithy comments on the photos follow…

Look, it’s my lovely sister Kathryn, walking through the borough of Le Plateau-Mont-Royal and snapping photos just like I am! I was going to crop out the stroller-pushing Quebecois gentleman, but honestly his disapproving side-eye is just too priceless to leave out. (”Tch – les Americains!”)

My still-spry Aunt Marie (in her mid-80s I believe), my cousin Christine and her friend Françoise lead the way to the poutine, strolling down the middle of the street because…I guess because it was just easier than dealing with the only-sporadically-cleared sidewalks? Just loved the buildings in this neighborhood.

Behold, la poutine! At first I thought I should go with the standard, original recipe, but this variation, La Taquise, just held too much appeal: sour cream, guacamole and diced tomatoes in addition to the basics. It. Was. Delicious. It was also Too. Much. Food. Sadly I left almost half of it behind. But if you’re ever in Montreal, head over to La Banquise and choose from over 30 varieties of the local delicacy.

Montreal Fire Station #16! This gorgeous structure was built in 1891.

Ice skaters in La Fontaine Park, near our poutine haven. A very nice park, and no doubt extremely popular in warmer weather.

All hail the Jaunty Walker! That’s the name my family has given this enthusiastic fellow appearing in the Canadian walk signal seen all across this wonderful country. If you’re not charmed by the Jaunty Walker, you’re just living wrong. I’m sorry.

This snow-topped praying statue was an irresistible photo subject. Quite serene and cooperative too.

Ultimately it was time to say goodbye to Montreal, seen here from the air. Hope to be back sooner than later.

Thanks for tolerating these sporadic posts during my trip. Things should get back to normal sooooooooooooon.

#walking #photo #walking photo #photography #montreal #quebec #canada #poutine #family #sister #aunt #cousin #jaunty walker #fire station #canadian

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