#but then that leaves the 10th (?) seat vacant? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yaeggravate · 6 months

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deep sigh. ok i've been thinking about a different angle regarding arlecchino: one that would link her to the golems of ancient remuria and the legend of the holy grail. if i throw enough theories at arlecchino one of them is bound to stick, right?

i mentioned before that in arthurian legend there is something called the siege perilous, which is an empty seat at the round table reserved by merlin for the one who would be *successful in finding the holy grail. this led me to believe there could be a connection to the vacant 10th seat within the fatui harbingers. there are some obvious similarities between merlin and pierro so it's not that big of a stretch. they're both powerful mages, have white beards, and have stag imagery. (pierro's mask has one antler or horn sticking out.)

some other recent arthurian references in fontaine are:

the melusines

lyney and lynette who are based on the sisters lynette and lyonesse** who lived at castle perilous

a local legend fatui operative called yseut

the great magician parsifal and her sister josephine etc. you get the idea

(anfortas and klingsor are also arthurian characters but as far as we know they are connected to khaenri'ah instead of fontaine.)

in any case, i started to look for a holy grail equivalent in the game. there is actually a monthy python and the holy grail reference in one of the notes. "mounted python & the pure grail," is a play based on the supposed tales of the lochknights. this could mean the holy/pure grail does exist.

turns out, we do have something resembling a grail in this game. it's a weapon ascension material: the golden goblet of the pristine sea.

this was remus' goblet with the extracted ichor from the primo soup. remus believed the ichor would bring eternal life and infinite wisdom just like the holy grail could grant immortality etc. the goblet, filled to the brim with ichor, was ultimately stolen by boethius, who used it to seal the dragon scylla underneath the tower.

Shocked by the foolhardy betrayal of the God King, the musician summoned the last guards, and used the insoluble Ichor to seal the dragon beneath the tall tower, and sank into the abyss with the capital. Afterwards, this noble thief vanished silently from history, and only the "Golden Troupe" faithfully remembers his prophecy.

it's unknown what happened to the goblet, or if it's connected to the lochknights, but what if the goblet is something arlecchino is after? or perhaps it's already in her possession? perhaps she was even born/created from the ichor in the goblet.

to clarify, i don't think arlecchino is after the 10th seat (bc she already has a rank lol), but maybe she is connected to the golden troupe, who were alligned with boethius' views. they were determined to restore remuria by attempting to reawaken the golems.

To save their waning civilization and their desire to transcend, the Golden Troupe played melodies most wondrous, enticing children to offer their precious souls to the sleeping golems.

what caught my attention is that golems are described as having skin as black as iron and are capable of devouring souls.

Combining the immortal stone with the Ichor essence extracted from primordial water, and carved into a race as black as iron— with arcane lithos for skin and Ichor for blood, never again fearing the curse of returning to the primeval past...

the golden ichor also turned black due to the agony of the many souls within, leaving only chaos behind. this could be connected to arlecchino's blackened arms.

should be noted that the research of rene, the leader of the narzissenkreuz ordo, borrows a lot from the golden troupe. rene's last name is de petrichor, which means golem in "the old language". we still haven't seen these golems yet, which are implied to be in the region of petrichor, which means we might get to go there in future patches.

another interesting part are these ominous lines from the golden troupe artifact:

Golden Troupe's Reward When the great golden symphony plays once more, the Golden Troupe will receive the rightful rewards owed to the true and loyal. When the perfect order separates humanity into master and servant, prosperity and beauty shall make the kingdom glorious once more… Abide until that day… Abide until that day… When every member of the Golden Troupe shall win the whole future as their prize.

if arlecchino has ties to the golden troupe this could be her true goal.

curiously enough, there is this bit from the weapon ascension material wine goblet of the pristine sea that aligns with the lore of the new weapon ballad of the fjords which recounts the legend of ajax.

Wine Goblet of the Pristine Sea The silent golem still dreams the dream of the empire — not knowing it has been over a thousand years since the empire's obliteration.

Ballad of the Fjords This ancient capital had sunk into the depths of the earth due to some ancient disaster, but despite being buried underground, it was still as bright as the dawn. The solemn and silent king yet sat upon his massive chiseled white throne, the scepter in his hands not yet eaten away by insects, And the silver-white trees in the courtyard were like the arms of a mother or a lover, holding the virtuous and wise priest in their embrace. Beautiful yet treacherous life, twisted and violent monsters, one by one awakened from their thousand-year slumber…

there might be no connection here but i thought i should mention it anyway since arlecchino's fellow harbinger childe is named after ajax.

(*the most notable ones successful in retrieving the holy grail were percival and galahad. we have two parsifals in this game, but for now neither seem to be connected to the goblet or the golden troupe.

percival had a son named lohengrin, the swan knight, part of the knights of the grail. this was a secret order of knights who were tasked to provide lords to kingdoms that had lost their protectors. this would fit with arlecchino's swan imagery but it would clash with the schwanenritters (swan knights) we already have in game. but hey, who knows, maybe there could be a connection there.

**the enemy of lynette and lyonesse was the red knight, ironside, who had besieged their lands. the red knight's armor was red due to it being completely covered in blood. the red knight eventually befriended his enemy gareth and became part of the knights of the round table. notably golems are as black as iron; black iron is known as ironoxide and arlecchino has some vivid blood red accents.)

#.txt #arlecchino #lore bytes #please just let her be evil!!!! im not asking for much just a little vil

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17caratssi · 3 years

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Wonwoo! Will you stay

Jeon Wonwoo! First short series pt one | two | three | four Wonwoo is a new student of Sejong High. Coming from a low-status family, he always keeps himself aloof, isolated and cares less about anyone. However, his effort to lie low during the first day goes down the drain.

10th July

The chill breeze greets the morning, awaken the sleepy eyes. Cars are in the line to drop the students at the entrance. The young faces radiate with smiles as they chat about what's filled their summer holiday.

New semester and the entrance of highly anticipated new students into Sejong Elite High School.

Every year, Sejong High will take in new students in the second half. While the school only accepts kids with upper-class family backgrounds in the prefecture, the special students are usually first-class newcomers or scholarship privileged.

Everyone knows when a new student is enrolled with a scholarship. They are distinct from others who are registered under their family's status. They just know.

These smart students are the minority, and more often than not, their voices would not be heard by the higher-ups when they are bullied. It's like these few people have to walk on the icy pond. Everything is at stake.

Jeon Wonwoo is a lucky guy. He made it to the school, albeit coming from a poor family in a rural area. He has 6 siblings, and he is the oldest. The breadwinner in the house has disappointed them and left the family 2 years ago, leaving everything in Wonwoo's hands.

However, the only good thing about his father is his peculiar gene, and that's how Wonwoo ends up getting all A's despite all the external shortfalls.

He lacks time at school, and he would sleep during lectures. Having no friends, he is always a step behind the others. He makes no effort to befriend anybody, and he cares less about it.

Wonwoo walks to his class that is on the highest floor and only at the top. He learns that there's transportation, called the elevator, to bring students between the levels.

"Isn't summer just ended? Why is he sweating in this air-conditioned environment?" a girl with her friend makes a remark as they arrive at their class. The friend chuckles and scans Wonwoo and quickly realizes.

"No wonder, it's a nerdy~."

"Oof. I hope he's not our classmate," the two of them laugh girlishly.

Wonwoo listens but pays no heed to them. He continues to search for his class until he finds the match.

Damn, this stupid school is big...

Wonwoo's solitude would have him go unnoticed the whole day. As such, he uses the back door to come into the class. He looks around before he grabs a vacant chair. As he tugs the chair, the screeching sound stimulates the other's interest. Suddenly, the class gets heated up by the behaviour of the new student.

Murmurs here and there. Boys and girls are all talking about him.

There are only 3 new students; a girl from overseas, a boy whose father is a 'sangsa', and an ordinary boy who benefitted from a scholarship.

[Sangsa is a Korean military rank equivalent to an American master sergeant.]

The talk goes on for so long that Wonwoo gets sleepy from the attention he received. It's probably half an hour later, the sliding door is slammed open.

Wonwoo startles due to the loud noise made by you. He squints his eyes and watches as you walk to your desk, which is nowhere to be found. You are a new student as well.

It's normal for the new face to directly go to the back of the class, so you can instantly tell that the lonely, cute guy is a newcomer.

"You new?" You ask.

Fox is your first impression of him.

Wonwoo nods slightly. You also nod in acknowledgement and takes a chair next to him to sit. You extent a hand for a handshake but get no response from him. You take it as him being timid to new people and brush it off.

"I'm Y/N. You?"

He frowns. 10 seconds later, he speaks. "Do you talk to strangers?"

"You don't?" You ask in curiosity. "Oh, maybe cultural difference?"

Probably, but Wonwoo has no experience dealing with a girl. A bold one in specific.

"So, what's your name?"

Did she get it or not? She'll stop if I ignore her, right? Just like the others...

You don't stop looking at Wonwoo. He is handsome, and you admit that his nose is quite adorable.

"Can I touch your nose?" you ask with your finger already touching the thing.

Wonwoo's surprise look entertains you. He glares at you, and that alone makes you withdraw your finger.

"Are you dense or something?" Wonwoo comments and realizes that his accent is exposed.

You, a Korean practically spending most of her life in America, can't fathom his scolding but take in that he is angry. Sheepishly, you purse your lips and apologize. "Sorry, I sometimes act on impulse. It's just that your nose is boopable..." your voice slows down in volume in the second half.

I'm sorry, but not really...

However, Wonwoo suddenly stands up and drags his chair away from you.

Being treated that way, you impudently raised your voice, asking. "Where are you going?"

And yet, he still pretends to be deaf and shun you off.

Wonwoo settles down at the opposite corner. Noticing the non-existent desks for you and him, you voice out.

"Is there no desks for us? I thought you guys are prepared to take the new students but I guess not," your hands akimbo and lips mumbling complaint.

The whole class turns their heads to you, except Wonwoo.

"The new kid is sure cranky. It's not anyone's job to prepare you a desk," a guy in the front seat retort as he turns around.

His seatmate laughs and agrees without speaking.

The guy deliberately speaks out loud, but it seems that you don't catch at it. The former snickers and resumes playing with his phone.

Thank goodness, the desks are being delivered just before the class by the clerks. They arrange for the two desks to be placed side-by-side at the far left of the class.

You choose the left side since it's beside the window, and Wonwoo cannot help but pick the remaining. You like the positioning, but it goes for the opposing to him.

You smile as you watch Wonwoo creates a gap between their desks. He then continues to persistently act like you aren't there pestering him.

The lesson soon begins.

Actually, you find it difficult to adapt to the new environment. During the math class, you're the only one that takes out a calculator, and during the interval, it's also you who takes a nap.

It makes you pout. There's nothing to keep you excited apart from the person next to you.

You look to your right and see Wonwoo studying with his glasses on. His glasses are of the old model, but it looks good on him. You don't know why this guy just attracts your attention that you blurt out the next second.

"Hey, do you want to be my boyfriend?"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

If you like this story, you might as well check out the others here !

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo series #seventeen #seventeen imagine #kpop #kpop imagine #kpop seventeen #kpop masterlist #wonwoo! will you stay #wonwoo! WYS_1

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

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Billy Hargrove’s Exploration of Beauty

Part 6: Split Ends

also on ao3

***

It all happened so fast. Like he blinked his eyes and he went from behind an ice cream counter to a hundred feet below ground level. Tied up to a chair in front of his coworker who he had barely even known. Who he was beginning to like. And despite being told after the fact that whole days had passed, his little vacation didn’t feel so long. Having been blacked out and drugged out of his mind for the most of it. It was quick to be over with. Could have almost have been excused as a fever dream.

The events following his escape went by fast too. Coming up to the main floor only to find out that they might have just been safer underground. Hearing news of the mind flayer being back just went in one ear out the other.

Finding out Billy was among the flayed. That stuck. But he hid the fear. Suppressed it. Because they didn’t have the time to dwell on that.

Driving up to Cerebro felt quick. Considering he drove like a bat out of hell, that wasn’t that hard to believe.

Slamming into the side of the Camaro. He had his eyes closed for that one. But it went by fast. It had to. “It’s not Billy” he had chanted in his mind.

Everything was quickly paced. Moving from one thing to another swiftly. Nothing felt like it had dragged on.

Until he was up on that balcony.

And he watched as the mindflayer skewered his boyfriend through the chest. It was all slow motion. Felt like watching a movie that would never end. Watching as it went in and out. Tearing flesh and breaking bone. Collapsing to the floor with a loud thud that echoed throughout the mall. Lying there motionless. Bleeding out onto the disgusting mall tile. Dying. He was dying.

He’d later hear from Robin that when he was up on that balcony she had to hold him back from jumping over the ledge. Kicking and screaming. “I have to get to him!”

Everything following that moment felt like slow motion. Agonizing slow motion.

Driving to the hospital that held Billy. Max in the passenger seat. It was silent. And they must have hit every red light on the way.

The trip up the elevator to the floor he was on. Unbearably slow.

The line they stood in to speak to the front desk. Unbearably long.

The wait until they were ready for them to come back. It felt like forever.

And just as he was ready to pass through the glass doors into the hall of the ICU, there was a hand on his chest. A nurse of about five-foot-five looking to be in her mid-to-late forties had stopped him. “Family members only at this time.” She’d said. He wanted to yell at her. Say he’s the closest thing Billy has to family. But he kept his mouth shut. Bowed his head and ushered Max along, despite her protests.

“Go see your brother, Max. I’ll be okay.”

But he wouldn’t. Steve wouldn’t see Billy for the first time for over a month. The longest month of his life.

Months spent with Billy beginning to fade away in this never ending cycle of being alone. Waking up everyday to an empty bed. Not even being able to make a phone call just to hear his voice. Being without him in every way. Not hearing his laugh or seeing his smile or just feeling his skin against his. He tried to hold on to all of those good memories. But they were slipping away.

It all went downhill when Max had called him from the ICU. It was two in the morning and she was there with Chief Hopper, despite knowing she shouldn’t be. Steve hid his anger around Hopper, trying his best not to hate him. Because he got special privileges and Steve didn’t. It was two in the morning and he was sitting in his living room watching a random movie, curled up in a blanket and hugging a pillow. He hadn’t been sleeping very well. The left side of his bed cold and vacant.

Max didn’t usually call this late. The ringing of the phone startled him and made his heart race. Because something must be wrong.

“Steve?” Max’s voice came over the line.

“Is something wrong?” He had to get straight to the point.

The pause felt like forever. His breath caught in his throat, hands trembling waiting for her to say something.

“They want to cut his hair.”

June 10th, 1985

“I think I want to grow out my hair.”

Billy says it to him that day while curled up in his bed. Steve’s fingers tenderly combing through his curly blonde locks. It’s soft. Void of any hairspray and all natural in its full curly glory. Smell of cheap drugstore shampoo. Slightly minty.

“Grow it out? It’s already long.” Steve says. He’s not wrong. Billy’s hair is already shoulder length and that’s with his naturally tight curls. Wet and brushed out it’s even longer. About to his collar bones.

“I know that. But I’d like for it to be longer. Is that okay?”

“Are you asking for my permission? Because you know you don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Just wanted to know what you thought.”

“More hair to grab onto? Doesn’t sound all that bad to me.”

Billy laughs and leans into Steve.

Billy had been getting better about voicing his feelings about things. Finding it easier to settle into himself in the company of Steve. Gaining a trust that Steve wouldn’t look at him like others would have if they had seen a boy take pleasure in a feminine aesthetic. Painted nails and soft makeup and even sexy lingerie when the mood was just right. Things he’d never allow leave the walls of Steve’s house, but had been able to set free when he was inside.

“Can I ask what made you want to do this?”

“Max braided my hair last night, but it’s too short on top so it was all sticking out.” Steve couldn’t see the smile peek onto Billy’s face or the rosy tint on his cheeks. “But I liked it.”

Max and Dustin had come to learn about the two of them. About not only their relationship but about Billy. About the little things he does to feel beautiful. Billy wasn’t as open with the two of them as he was with Steve. But they were nice about it. Supportive like Steve was. Billy would say it was nice having someone else in on the secret. Even if it scared him shitless having even just Steve in the know.

“Good. I bet you look amazing with your hair braided.”

“Do you know how?” Billy seems timid in the way he asks. But not like he used to be. His voice is consistent in tone and there is an ounce of confidence there.

Steve’s in the middle of wrapping a curl around his finger until he reaches Billy’s scalp. “A little. I used to braid Carol’s when we were little. Not sure how good I am now.”

“Do you want to try?” Same voice as before. Hopeful tinge to it that makes Steve smile.

“Go get me a brush.”

- : -

Steve barely listens to the rest of the call. He’s already getting ready to leave for the hospital before he even hangs up the phone. Barely bothering to make himself presentable. Going out to his car wearing a pair of pajama pants and one of his father’s college sweatshirts.

Max had told him to come. So he was already out the door. Letting himself imagine what Billy might look like now. It’s been over a month so he surely looks a lot different from when he last saw him. Hopefully he looks much different considering the last time he saw him he was drenched in his own blood with a hole in his chest. Max had taken pictures of Billy at the hospital, but he couldn’t bear to look at them. He needed to actually be there the first time he saw Billy, or he might completely lose his mind. If he hasn’t already.

The hospital is a full forty minute drive outside of Hawkins. But it’s two in the morning and the roads are almost entirely empty. So he floors it. Driving fifteen over the whole trip. Releasing all of the anxiety and anticipation into the weight of his foot to increase his speed.

He’s driving like he’s heading there to say goodbye. Like he’s getting ready to say his last words to the dying man in the hospital bed. Tell anyone else he’s driving this recklessly over a potential haircut they’d think he’d be being dramatic. To put it mildly.

But it was more than just hair. Billy’s hair meant something more than just the evolutionary purpose of keeping your head warm.

Losing his hair would be like losing a limb. It was a part of him. So much of his identity contained within each strand of dirty blonde. The one thing he had control over. The one thing Neil never bothered to touch. Hair he had been growing out for the better part of five years having only recently begun trimming it, and even more recently begun growing it out again. The bulk of the hair on his head was the same exact hair that had been with him through all of it. Through every beating. Through every milestone. Always there sitting on his shoulders.

It was the thing that brought him comfort in knowing it was his. That it would always be there. It was like his coat of armor. It was like a shield. Something he always used to hide behind. Something that protected him. Something that made stepping out into the world just a little bit bearable.

But then with Steve he didn’t use it to hide behind. When he was with Steve he let it fall. He let it soften and lose the stiffness brought upon by too much hairspray. He let Steve comb his fingers through it. Touch the very thing that gave him a glimpse of comfort. Because Steve did too. Steve’s gentle and caring hands combing through tangles while they lay together in bed. The same hands braiding his hair while they sat in front of the TV. Billy on the floor with his back to the couch. Sitting in between Steve’s legs as he tries to incorporate the shorter strands at the front of his head into the cascade of woven hair. Slicking it down with water and hairspray only for the short strands to sprout up only after only a couple of minutes. Billy never did get his perfect braid.

They want to take it off. They want to take it all off. Even though it’s not necessary. They wanted to take away the one thing Billy had left after everything. After it was all taken away from him. Steve had already destroyed the Camaro. The only thing he’d be walking out of the mall with would be that fucking hair and thankfully his beating heart.

And he would have Steve. He would always have Steve.

If he still wanted him when he woke up.

Steve passed the “Leaving Hawkins” sign at a whopping seventy miles per hour. Paying no mind to potential police surveying the road. Wasting no time at all.

June 20th, 1985

Billy’s wearing a scrunchie in his hair when he comes to Steve’s house after his shift. His hair is still drying from the pool water but is still so bouncy and shiny in the evening sunlight, and the little blue scrunchie in his hair makes him melt. The way the pink and orange hues of a perfect sunset warm the color of each strand. The ways his ears are fully exposed, his earring dangling and perfectly reflecting the light. The way the little strands at the front of his head fall into his eyes. The way it’s so messy yet so elegant at the same time. His heart soars. He looks beautiful.

Steve tells him that. With a kiss on the lips before he walks through the front door.

“Where’s the scrunchie from?” Steve asks.

“Stole it out of Heather’s locker.”

Steve gave Billy a fake shocked expression. “My boyfriend? A thief? It can’t be.”

Billy walks past Steve and into the house. “Relax, I swear there’s like fifty of them in there. She won’t even notice.” He takes a seat on the right side of the couch, like he always did.

Steve sits beside him, leaning his entire body up against Billy and burying his head into the crook of his neck. Billy still strongly smells of chlorine and he used to hate that smell until it became a signal that Billy was around. Suddenly it had become one of his favorite scents.

“Well it looks like we’re just going to have to get you some of your own doesn’t it?” Steve starts twirling his finger around one of the loose strands at the front of his face. “It looks real pretty.”

Pretty.

That was a newer word for them. Dropping the ‘boy’ at the end because it didn’t feel necessary anymore. Sometimes even made him feel a little like he was implying that boys couldn’t be pretty, needing to add the specification. Billy was becoming far more comfortable with himself and embracing it all. Beginning to believe that men could be pretty and that didn’t have to detract from anything.

So Steve called him pretty. He called him beautiful and gorgeous and stunning because he was. Because Billy deserved to hear it. And because it made him happy.

“Showers weren’t working at the pool. Need to wash the chlorine out. You gonna join me?”

“Oh absolutely.”

- : -

The trip through the hospital gives Steve flashbacks. Flashbacks to the night him and Max anxiously made the trek to the hospital wing Billy was in. Every moment he was currently experiencing felt like the memory. Sweaty palms gripping the handles in the elevator while the cage slowly moves up to the fifth floor. Shoulders hunched, leaning all his weight onto the bar as he curses each time the elevator stops. Foot tapping in anxiety as he waits and waits and waits until finally the doors slide open onto the fifth floor.

Steve ignores the lineup of people at the front desk and heads towards the glass door through which he can see Hopper. He wasn’t going to wait anymore. Fully prepared to bypass the stout man they had guarding the door.

Two hands come in contact flat against his chest as he gets within a foot of the door. So close to grabbing the handle. Steve leans all his weight against the man. Straight faced like a man on a mission.

“Let me through.”

Steve knows how he looks. Adorning comfortable clothes looking completely disheveled. Hair a mess, sweat forming on his brow, practically foaming at the mouth as he attempts to push his way past. His voice determined as he repeats himself.

“I can’t allow that sir. You do not have permission.”

The man just stands his ground. Hands still flat against Steve’s chest, applying very little pressure, but enough to prevent Steve from storming through.

“Let me through.” It’s louder this time. Enough to where he’s beginning to cause a scene in the middle of the waiting area. Staff and the rest all turning their heads towards the disarranged man on the verge of a public tantrum. He looks all kinds of mad, like he belongs in a padded room, restrained and straight-jacketed. He repeats himself over and over again until his voice starts to break. The man is not budging, and Steve doesn’t have the strength.

Then there’s a strong hand grabbing his bicep. Steve’s haze still recognizes it as belonging to a separate party.

“Let the kid in. He’s with me.” It’s Hopper’s distinct voice that breaks him from the daze. The man blocking his way moves to the left and removes his hands from his chest, nearly causing him to fall forward.

Hopper guides Steve through the glass doors. This is the furthest he’s made it. He can feel Billy’s presence just right around the corner. He’s not sure if that’s just because he can hear Max’s voice echoing through the halls as she argues loudly with the nurses on call.

“Good thing you’re here. Max has been guarding Billy for an hour. It’s just hair. I don’t know what the issue is.”

Steve just looks at Hopper, completely stone cold.

“It’s not just hair.”

He storms past him and into the room where Max is standing in front of Billy’s bed with her arms outstretched while two nurses try to reason with her. Steve stalls when he finally looks past Max and gets a glimpse of Billy.

He’s pale, but still tanner than Steve. He has more stubble than he would have liked but it’s still trimmed. The mask over his mouth and nose block his view slightly. His eyes are closed and he looks very peaceful.

And his hair is longer. A lot longer.

Splayed across the white pillow underneath him, his tight waves look to be at the very least an inch longer than the last time he’d seen him. Bangs falling into his face extending all the way down to the tip of his nose. It looks soft. Shiny like satin under the hospital fluorescent. He looks heavenly and angelic and that freaks Steve out.

Heavenly and angelic.

Asleep. Dead to the world. Dead.

Except he wasn’t dead. The crests and troughs of the heart monitor proving such to be true. But it felt too close. Like it was right around the corner and he had to be careful not to alert death to their location.

Steve walked past the shouting fourteen year old without a word and approached Billy’s bedside. Upon closer inspection he notices how Billy’s body has frailed. Previously cut muscles, now soft and smooth. Yet he didn’t look sickly. He was still looking more built than Steve, even. Steve moves a fallen hair from out of his eyes, like it was blocking his vision out of his closed lids. Gently tracing his finger across his hairline to behind his ear where he tucked back another strand. His skin was warm. Blood still coursing through his veins. He was definitely alive. And somehow Steve felt his presence. Knew deep down Billy was still in there.

He’s not paying attention to the screaming match taking place behind him. And they’re not paying attention to him. He’s just staring at Billy. Like he’s looking at the Mona Lisa. Behind six inches of bulletproof glass. He can’t get to him. He can’t reach him. But he’s there. He can see him. And god he’s as beautiful as ever.

It’s not the ear piercing screams from an enraged teenage girl or the annoyed combativeness from the two young nurses that separates his attention from Billy. It’s a strong hand on his shoulder that somehow both gently and forcefully pulls him back.

“Alright everyone that’s enough!” Hopper doesn’t shout but his deep and full voice carries an intensity that shuts everybody up. “One at a time, please?”

“You have no right to shave his entire head! You only have to shave off a small patch for the surgery, you said it yourself!” Max is fuming. The only word that sticks in Steve’s head is surgery. He doesn’t bother asking. Not sure if knowing would make it easier to swallow.

“We actually do have the right. His father already gave us consent to do so. It’s you who doesn’t have the right kid.” Steve has to physically restrain himself. Looking back at Billy as his fists clenched and his fingernails dug crescents into his palms at the mention of Neil.

Neil having the final say over the one thing he never touched. That was something Steve had promised Billy he would protect him from. Not the hair. Protect him from Neil taking anything more from him.

“Besides, a man’s hair shouldn’t be that long anyway.”

If Steve didn’t have the self control he did, there would surely be a nurse with a broken nose. Instead he turns back to Billy again. Looking at him. Trying to pull some answers from him.

I wish you could just tell me what to do.

“When does it need to be done by?” It’s the first thing Steve’s said since he entered the room.

“His surgery is scheduled for nine this morning. So you’ve got around five hours.”

Steve hasn’t turned towards the nurses. Hasn’t turned his head away from Billy.

“Then give us five hours.”

Steve’s expression when he finally turns back to look at the two nurses is mean. Attempting to get it across that he’s not asking.

“Five hours.” They say as they nod their heads and walk out. Annoyed expressions on their faces.

“Steve you can’t let them -“

“They won’t.” Steve takes a long look at Billy. Taking a deep breath as he glances towards the scissors that sit on the medical tray. “I’m going to do it.”

Max doesn’t say anything, which is actually a good sign. An even better sign is when she finally removes herself from her guarded position at the foot of the bed to come join Steve.

He pulls down at one of the shorter strands at the front of Billy’s head. Pulled taut, the spiral reaches all the way just past his chin.

“You think it’s long enough for a braid?”

June 20th, 1985

After a very hot and heavy make out session against the shower walls, the two actually take a shower. Despite having done so many times before, showering together always feels so intimate. Standing with each other, naked and alone in a very vulnerable position,

just existing without jumping each other’s bones. It was nice. It was just more proof that what the two of them ran deep. Soaping up each other’s bodies. That was something so personal.

Steve was running his fingers through Billy’s soap covered hair. Billy’s back turned to Steve as he did it. Letting the water from the faucet rinse his front while he let Steve play with the individual strands of his hair.

Steve liked the way Billy’s hair looked when wet. Still maintaining a curl no matter how saturated in water it got. The way it darkened to a near dark brown and he could easily be mistaken for a brunette.

The shampoo smells like coconut. Stolen straight from his mothers bathroom. The fumes mixed with the steam of the hot water clearing his senses and making his breathing feel so easy.

Steve pulls at one of his curls until it’s completely straight. Careful not to pull too hard.

“It’s already getting longer, baby.”

Because his back is turned, Steve doesn’t see the wide smile appear onto Billy’s face. Because the water is falling into his face, Steve doesn’t see the tears of joy form into his eyes.

Yet Steve knows without seeing. He wraps his arms around Billy’s waist and pulls him in close. Presses kisses into the mole on the back of his shoulder.

“It’s gonna look so good.”

“You think so?”

“You bet. I’d say give it two more weeks and I can get these little suckers into a braid.”

- : -

Steve remembers saying that so vividly. Because exactly two weeks later would be the Fourth of July. The same day that Billy’s life would nearly be taken. It felt like some cruel joke.

Now Steve is sitting in a hospital bed with his comatose boyfriends sitting in between his legs as he brushes through his hair. Trying to hold it together in front of Max and Hopper.

Steve’s not entirely sure Hopper has been made aware of the true nature of his and Billy’s relationship. He figures he’s probably pieced it together by now. And he’s pretty sure he doesn’t really care if he knows or not. He’s too focused on Billy. Focused on the man in between his legs. Focused on making him look as beautiful as he can while his hair is still on his head. Trying not to focus that it’s going to be his hands that will cut it off. Because it has to be his hands. Or else it’ll end up inadvertently being Neil’s hands.

And he wouldn’t let that happen.

Max hasn’t said much since he’d arrived. He can tell she feels guilty that Steve had been blocked from seeing Billy for so long. Especially considering how easy it was to get him past those doors. She’s just sitting in the chair at his bedside holding Billy’s hand. He is angry. But not at Max. He’s not really angry at anyone one particular person. He’s angry at the entire situation they’re in and he doesn’t know how to express that anger to Max without screaming. So he keeps his mouth shut and gently brushes the tangles out of Billy’s hair.

“I’m going to head downstairs for some food. Do you want me to bring anything up for you two?” Hopper says. He too has been mostly silent. Clearly pretty confused about the situation.

Max’s eyes lit up. “My bag. It’s in your car. Can you grab it?”

“Sure thing kiddo. You Steve?”

“A cup of coffee would be nice.”

Hopper tousled his and Max’s hair. “You got it. I’ll be back in a bit. Please for the love of God don’t yell at anymore nurses. They’re just doing their job.”

Hopper leaves the two of them and Steve finally begins braiding Billy’s hair. Combing his hair front to back before taking three small strands and began attempting a French braid.

“What’s in the bag?” He asks.

Max smiles. Looking down at Billy’s bare fingernails. “My Polaroid. Thought maybe he might like to have some pictures.”

“I think he’d like that.” Steve’s looking down at Billy’s hand in Max’s. “You have any nail polish in there?”

“I think so.”

“That’s good, maybe we can paint them.” Steve’s being extremely focused on braiding. Making sure it’s clean and precise and making sure no strand is sticking out. And it’s going a lot better than usual. Only needing to slick down a couple stray pieces. All while carefully pressing kisses to the top of his head as he makes his way down the length of his hair. Down his neck until he’s reached the end where he finally ties it off with a hair tie off of Max’s wrist.

“How’s it look?” Steve asks.

“He looks pretty.”

Steve can’t help it anymore. Can’t hold back the stream of tears that have been bottled up and threatening to overflow since he got the call. The tears squeeze through tightly closed eyelids and roll down his cheeks as he just buries his face into Billy’s braided hair.

“He does. Doesn’t he?” Steve gently wraps his arms around Billy’s chest, careful around the dressing over his scar. Fully taking in for the first time that Billy is still here. For the past month Billy’s being alive was just simply something he was told. Never something he got to see. Now he does see it. Now he sees it and he feels the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Feels his heart beat against his chest. He’s right there and he was going to be okay.

He had to be okay. That was the only way Steve would be okay too.

“I’m sorry.” Max apologizes. He knows why she says it. He doesn’t need clarification.

“It’s not your fault.”

Max gives Steve a half smile and uses her free hand to squeeze his shoulder.

“I don’t want to cut his hair.” Steve takes in a deep breath. “But I know it has to be me.”

“I could do it.”

Steve shakes his head at her. “No. I made a promise. It can’t be anyone else.”

“Well I’ll be here with you if it helps.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for loving my brother.”

They sit there for a while in just complete silence save for the muffled chatter from outside the walls and the occasional beeping from one of the many machines Billy had been wired up to. Hopper only arrives around ten minutes later with two coffees in hand and a red Jansport on his shoulder. He hands Steve his cup and Max her backpack and takes a seat in the other chair that’s near the door.

“You two alright?” Hopper asks. He probably noticed Steve’s tear stained cheeks and the somber atmosphere of the room he walked into.

The two of them nod. Steve goes in to begin nursing the hot cup of coffee and Max begins to sift through her bag. Pulling out her camera case and two small glass bottles.

“I have red and orange.”

“Billy hates orange Max! You know this!” Steve laughs.

“I know that. Was just messing with you.” She tosses the bottle of red nail polish over to Steve. “You paint, I’ll take pictures.”

Max takes a few shots while Steve coats Billy’s nails in a shiny bright red varnish. Still in the same position of Billy sitting in between Steve’s legs with a pillow on his chest for Billy to lay back on. He brings a coated hand to his lips to gently blow dry. All the while Max is snapping candid photos of the two, passing each piece of film over to Hopper for him to put into his shirt pocket to allow it to develop.

“You guys want one of all three of you?” Hopper asks. He’s been mostly silent the whole time. Nursing his own coffee while he watched Max prance around the room with her camera.

“That would be great.” Max says, handing the camera over to Hopper before she makes her way over to the bedside. Leaning into the frame. Steve pulls Billy’s braid forward so that it’s now draped over his shoulder and visible. Intertwining his fingers with Billy’s now dry and red coated ones. He smiles as the flash temporarily blinds him.

They take as many more photos as they can until Max has run out of film. Hours pass and the hour hand is approaching eight o’clock. Meaning it’s about time.

About time to say goodbye.

The process begins slowly. Undoing the braid being the first step. Undoing the thing Billy really wanted to see for himself. The thing he’ll only get to experience in pictures. It hurt to pull the elastic from his hair and run his fingers through the perfectly woven strands.

The next part was securing it all back up into a ponytail at the top of his head. That way all Steve would have to do was make one single cut and be done with it. Allow the nurses to shave off the rest.

He knew it was going to be hard. But he didn’t anticipate it being this hard. Now holding an open pair of scissors above Billy’s head. All of his hair in between the blades. All he had to do was close his fingers together and it would begin. But he was stuck. Hands frozen still as he began to sob into Billy’s hair as Max and Hopper silently watched him. Max’s hand on his thigh and Hopper’s on his shoulder.

He couldn’t stop imagining Billy having to wake up like this. Wake up to the knowledge that his hair was gone at the hands of Steve. Wondering if maybe this would hurt him more than someone else doing it. He had to remember he made a promise. Even if it meant that Billy may wake up and hate him.

Steve’s fingers finally close the blades together and he can hear the sharp sound of cutting hair.

He made a promise.

September 19th, 1985: One Month Later

Billy’s awake.

Billy’s awake and Steve is there holding his hand as he does. It wasn’t planned, somehow fate just decided to work out in their favor.

Billy takes a while to come to. Nearly an hour before he truly recognizes who he is and where he is and who Steve is. Steve just sits there patiently while he does. Repeating over and over again that he’s in the hospital. That he’s okay. That “Steve’s here.”

Billy’s hair is short and curly now. A lighter blonde than before. It looks really good on him and he just hopes Billy is able to agree.

“Steve?” Is the first thing Billy says and Steve’s heart melts at the sound of Billy’s groggy voice.

“Yeah baby. It’s me. I’m right here.” Steve pulls Billy’s hand to his mouth and begins kissing his knuckles. Showing Billy his own painted fingernails. Maybe that will help serve as a comfort for him. “Welcome back.”

“How long?”

“Almost three months.”

Billy just nods. Then slowly moves a free hand up to scratch at his head and Steve’s heart stops. He thought he’d have more time.

His heart shatters when Billy’s hand makes contact and his half lidded eyes turn wide.

“My hair is gone.” He says before turning over to see Steve is crying.

“I’m sorry. I had to cut it. I'm so sorry.” Steve’s voice is broken and Billy takes a minute to finally register the situation. Spending about a minute pulling at the short curls in his hair before squeezing Steve’s hand with all of the strength he has. Which isn’t much.

“It’s okay.” He whispers. Pushing down his own sadness and grief over it to reassure Steve that he’s not mad at him. He couldn’t be mad at him. It hurt. It hurt to know that his hair had been taken from him. But he also knows Steve didn’t do it to hurt him. “It’s gonna grow back.” He’s not sure if he’s saying that to Steve or to himself.

Steve sniffles and apologizes again. And again. And again.

“Steve I’m too weak to kiss you so you better get down here and kiss me or I’ll fucking scream.”

Steve does as he’s told. Nose full of snot and cheek coated in tears but he does it anyway. And Billy tastes like coming home. Everything about right now feels so unreal and he just has to savor the moment before he wakes up from whatever dream reality he must be trapped in.

But he doesn’t wake up from any dream because there is no dream. Billy’s alive. Billy’s awake. And Billy is kissing him.

Things were going to be okay. He was certain of that now.

And so was Billy when Steve finally showed him the little Polaroid of him in his perfect braid. Held by Steve. Looking beautiful with his long hair. The hair will grow back. With new memories, better memories, attached to each inch.

Things were going to be okay.

next part

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #mandi writes tresh

57 notes · View notes

sportsjournal · 3 years

Text

Kangin Lee's option, Granada or overseas team... Valencia demands '13.5 billion + cell-on clause'먹튀검증

먹튀검증먹튀사이트먹튀검증사이트먹튀 검증 먹튀 사이트 먹튀 검증 사이트

Kang-in Lee, whose whereabouts are still unclear, has two options. In Spain, if the transfer is canceled in the most aggressive situation of Granada, there is an option to transfer to an overseas team. Valencia is asking for a cell-on clause (resale option) for 10 million euros (about 13.5 billion won).

Balencia are keen to sign a new striker. Spain 'As' on the 10th (Korean time) said, "Valencia manager Jose Bordalas wants Marcus Andre, but the key to this transfer is Lee Kang-in. It was reported that he was offered Euro (about 6.7 billion won) but was rejected. Currently, Granada and Wolverhampton are in contact with Lee Kang-in, who will be the key to signing Andre."

Then, Spain's 'Sport' released a more detailed report on the 11th, saying, "Valencia's Bordalas manager is trying to sign Andre of Valladolid. We will cover this by selling Kang-in Lee for Andre's transfer fee."

There are two main reasons why Balenciaga wants to sell Lee Kang-in. First, the transfer fee. As reported by 'As', Bordalas manager is pursuing the signing of Andre. However, Valencia are unable to match the transfer fee Valladolid wants due to financial circumstances. The transfer fee requested by Valladolid is estimated to be between 8 million euros (about 10.7 billion won) and 10 million euros (about 13.4 billion won). In other words, Valencia plans to sign Andre by adding the transfer fee for selling Kang-in Lee.

The second meaning relates to the rules for non-EU players in the Spanish La Liga. Spain allows up to three non-EU players per team. Currently, Valencia is filled with three non-EU players, including Kang-in Lee, Maxim Gomes and Omar Alderete.

Since Andre is a Brazilian national, one of the non-EU players has to transfer to bring him in. Among the three players, Kang-in Lee is the most likely to transfer. Gomes is a key player, because Alderete was brought in this summer. Therefore, it is analyzed that Lee Kang-in holds the key to signing Andre.

In this situation, Kang-in Lee is also considering leaving Valencia. Spain's 'Cadena Cope' reported that "Lee Kang-in, who is preparing for a transfer, has two options. Granada and an overseas team. If Lee Kang-in leaves, Valencia want to insert a cell-on clause."

In Spain, Granada is very interested. Granada manager Roberto Moreno is currently looking for an attacking midfielder with the goal of strengthening the attack. Last season, Granada had a low scoring record with 47 goals scored by the team.

For Lee Kang-in, a transfer to Granada could be a good option. In the case of Manager Moreno, he used a formation that required an attacking midfielder such as 4-2-3-1 and 3-4-2-1. If you look at Granada's squad, the central midfielder and the defensive midfielder are mainly composed of them, so if Kangin Lee joins them, they can gain an edge in the competition.

NON-EU is not an obstacle either. In Granada, Ramon Aziz and Carlos Bakaman are non-EU players. In La Liga, only three players from the roster are eligible for NON-EU. As the remaining seat is vacant, Lee Kang-in may be included. If Kang-in Lee heads to Granada, he is expected to receive more appearances.

If it's not Granada, you can change the league altogether. In particular, he is watching Kang-in Lee with interest on the EPL stage, so there is a possibility that another Premier Leaguer will be born after Son Heung-min.

#먹튀검증 #먹튀검증사이트 #먹튀사이트

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neo--heart · 3 years

Text

version 2 Beneath the surface original work short story

Draft 2 “Hey x”, his first Whatsapp text from September 2019 said, unread. Several more followed, unread, in the form of hi or hello followed with a varying amount of kisses after. Then, another unread text saying, “I miss u”, with a heart emoji. A text he had written a month later said, “sorry I haven’t been texting much,” also unread. It was now November. He tapped the keyboard below his list of unread messages to Aimee, typing another message to her.

“Want to go to Costa?”

Pocketing the phone, he rubbed his red, numb hands together, missing his bill free student accommodation heating. Dropping his groceries by the front door, he climbed up the stairs, ignoring the covered mirror behind the stairs as he ascended. Each step had one kind of empty bottle or other, mainly Kopparbergs and the occasional Strongbow.

He tried to remember if he opened the vacant bedroom’s door, located in front of the stairs, but he could only remember closing it all those months ago. The wind must’ve opened it. He saw the dust inside framed by the sunlight bleeding through the open window. Before he could stop himself, he was looking around the room which still looked like a tornado had passed through it, from the clothes scattered around the floor to the stray wires drawing lines and loops into the carpet. The only tidy parts of the room were the shelf. Though it had a couple of used dishes on top, the books were alphabetically arranged by the authors’ names meticulously. From Clive Coleman’s ‘An introduction to Criminology’ to Tony Lawson’s ‘Crime and Deviance’, the shelves were arranged and cleaned like an altar to a god of knowledge.

James took a breath and turned to the bathroom beside the empty bedroom. One foot after the other, his body ignored his command and he walked closer to Ben’s room until he was right in front of it. His eyes landed on the Redbull in the bin and like a car crash, his memories of that night four months ago collided with the abandoned room.

He had received a text from his brother.

“Elliot and I are at Gene’s. There helping me proofread my essay.” James didn’t check the time the message was sent, five minutes to one in the morning, anxiously rushing to and starting up the 1986 Corolla Ben had brought on his first year at university and drive over to Gene’s student accommodation, knuckles red as he held onto the gripless steering wheel. Ben was a year older than James and had been the first to get accepted into university, so he was the one who Lance Weaver, their father, had gifted the thirty-year-old car to, passing on the torch. Considering Ben received it in 2017 and their father had used it from the beginning of his university years until then, the car was in pretty good shape. The only noticeable change to it was the replacement of the gear shift knob, exchanged for a more user-friendly version.

It was 1:10 when he finally arrived at Gene’s and it wasn’t until 1:30 that he dragged Ben out and into the car, laptop and books hidden in the boot. Upon opening the door, Ben looked as dishevelled as the man in a shady street in the city centre who had offered them coke during Jame’s fresher year. After a glance into Gene’s room, James realised this was no doubt due to the stress from Ben’s rigid studying style, tiredness from staying up for over two days and the many, many, empty cans of Redbull.

“You’re not okay,” he said after Ben insisted there was no need to worry, “you used the wrong version of they’re, Mr Grammar Nazi.”

Ben sighed, begging if he could stay just a little longer to finish the essay.

“It isn’t due for another month! International criminal comparing can wait.”

International criminal justice and comparative criminology, Ben had corrected in a resigned manner. Several minutes of bickering went by and it wasn’t until Gene and Elliot’s shenanigans eventually turned into lighthearted reverse psychological taunting that Ben finally and reluctantly picked up his study materials and followed James to the car.

It took less than five minutes for Ben to start falling asleep, jacket rising up and down with every inhale and exhale. He would adjust his position from time to time, causing the lightweight frame of the car to shift. James recalled as he waited for the stoplight to turn green, the BMW he rode in once which belonged to his friend’s parent, its Bluetooth radio able to turn on via simple voice command. But a car like that would take him years to save up for, so the cassette player would have to do until then. He skimmed through the many cassettes lying around the car. Losing my religion was Ben’s favourite out of R.E.M’s songs. Summer of 69 was a shared favourite of theirs. Finally, his eyes landed on Roxette’s Dangerous, stuffed into the visor and looking like it would fall out if he left it. The familiar power chords played as he looked up, swearing when he realised the lights were green and changed gears.

When he turned to the second exit, the car lurched to the right, as if his right wheel had rolled over a speed bump and a loud bang shot through the car’s frame like a bullet. “You’ve got your bag, you take control,” Roxette sang as James’ seat jerked up and down as if he were in an earthquake and the car swayed to the right. James’ hand flew to the gear stick, pulling it back, but as the lyrics, “I won’t be walking through thin ice,” started playing, the car continued to sway across the road, drawing dancing spirals into the concrete with the wheel’s rubber.

Gripping onto the thin steering wheel, James took deep breaths, steering in the opposite direction every time the car swayed. “Hold on tight,” the chorus began, as the car continued spiralling out of control on the empty road. The last thing he remembered was Ben, still asleep as they were thrown into a traffic barrier.

On December 13th 2018, Andrea Weaver had taken a test at her GP and shortly after, was scheduled for a mammogram. The results were sent through first-class royal mail and the opened letter was poking out of her bag’s outer pocket. Andrea had returned to the hospital in January, but not for the reason she had expected. Who could expect a tyre blowout at 1 in the morning to leave both of their sons in the hospital? She now sat between the boys’ hospital beds, bag by her feet and diary in her lap, scribbling away as the heart monitor beep, beep, beeped away. These days she spent more time in the hospital than she did in her own home, whether that be for her appointments or to see her boys and do anything from reading or watching movies with them, to writing in her diary as she was now, waiting for them to wake. As she turned the page, she noticed the heart monitors’ speed by James’ bed had increased ever so slightly. At first, she thought it was a figment of her imagination, sitting as still as a statue while she listened for the next thirty seconds, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. It had definitely picked up its speed, to a slightly shorter pause between beeps, but that had happened before, maybe James was having a bad dream, or something was wrong with his blood pressure. As she was about to call for a nurse, a deep wheezing breath escaped James’ lips. Pen dropping to the floor, she called for help as James struggled to breathe through the endotracheal tube from his throat

Like a corpse risen from the dead, James had awoken. He couldn’t remember much, but as soon as the doctor was satisfied with James vitals and the tube had been removed, his mother had explained the whole event, from the tire blowout to his waking up, and Ben’s still unconscious state. James tried to follow his mothers’ gaze but found his head as heavy as a rock and instead glanced out of the corner of his eye to where Ben lay, his heart monitor slow and unchanging. James couldn’t process anything else his mother said as he saw Ben in his own cold, hard bed and Ben was all James could think of. He didn’t think of the weight pinning his limbs to the bed whenever he tried to move, or the nurses pulling him back when he tried rolling off the bed. James couldn’t put up much of a struggle when the nurses pulled him back, the weight of his tormented soul pulling him down for them as he recalled the events of the 10th of January 2019. He felt a sharp pain in his arm, before collapsing to the bed. Before falling into a days’ long sleep, he swore he saw Ben staring back at him from behind the nurses.

James opened his eyes and he was staring into his reflection in the full body mirror inside Ben’s room. Taking a deep breath, he closed the door, his body finally responding to his wishes to go to the toilet next to the room. Just after locking the door out of habit rather than a necessity, he checked his texts again, still unread by Aimee. As he unzipped himself and aimed into the toilet, he wondered when the last time they had met was. Was it September? Or was it before then? He couldn’t recall the last time they had watched a movie or gone out to dinner together.

Tucking himself back in and zipping up, he moved to the sink, washing his hands with the Tesco branded soap. As he dried his hands off with a towel, he made the mistake of looking into the still exposed mirror, his empty eyes staring back at him with a glower and mouth open in a soundless scream. Unresponsive to the reflection’s show, James released the towel, exiting the toilet. Walking down the stairs, he glanced to a room whose door he definitely remembered closing and was still closed, unlike the dust-filled room he dragged himself away from as he headed towards his groceries left at the main door.

Before he could start walking towards the kitchen, his phone started ringing.

“Hello?” James held the phone with one hand, groceries in another as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hi,” no quip or obscure pop reference for a greeting, no taunting or mockery, just, hi. James never thought he would miss Nick’s usual greetings. James put the call on speaker as he sorted his groceries and cleared the kitchen counter of the Guinness Draughts and Spitfires scattered across it to prepare his lunch.

“It’s good to hear from you,” James said after a long silence.

“Yeah, we need to meet up again at some point. My mum’s dinner offer still stands.”

“Thanks,” James put the speaker on before walking over to the dish drying rack in front of the kitchen window and grabbing a chopping board, “I’ll think about it.”

Looking up for a brief second, James once again caught the gaze of his reflection in the mirror, rolling its eyes at him, before he grabbed a chopping knife and turned to the kitchen table again.

“Uh-huh. By the way, my mum visited your brother today. She said she wanted to just visit your mother, but I guess she was hoping she’d bump into you.”

“That would explain the new flowers and her clean grave. Tell her I say thanks.”

“Of course. Anything for an old friend. I wanted to make this clear if I hadn’t before if you need anything, call me anytime and I’ll be there for you.”

James opened his mouth to say something, shutting it, before eventually saying, “thank you. That means a lot.”

“How are you doing by the way?”

“I’m coping,” James said, ignoring his reflection as it looked at the bottles littered around the various surfaces of the kitchen as he prepared water and turned on the stove. He returned to the chopping board and held the onion firm, knife at the ready.

“How about Ben?” Chop.

“He’s still in a coma.”

“Do you think he’ll wake up?” Chop.

“He’s stable.”

“Everyone’s asking about you,” James froze.

“They want to know how you’re doing, how Ben’s doing and if he’ll wake up. I’ve told them what I know from you. Loads of people have told me they’ve visited him but everyone says that they can never find you.” James had been staying at home since the accident, opting to take a gap year and a grant while in the recovery process. Not going out wasn’t necessary anymore, but he stayed inside by choice. Without noticing, he had unfrozen and continued chopping the onion.

“I go out for morning runs,” he lied, “and groceries. Other than that, I stay inside.” James mumbled, “It’s been lonely.”

“What was that?” Chop.

“Nothing,” he said, turning on the stove with the frying pan now he’d cut up half of the onion, “I’ve been catching up on my reading and binge-watching to pass the time.”

“I wish I could do that. I’ve got to go, but call me anytime if you need to talk and I promise I’ll pick up.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.” With dry eyes, James collected the diced onion into a pile on the side of the chopping board.

The water was boiling now and James dropped the pasta in. With swift efficiency, he prepared the sauce. Garlic and bacon having already been cut and prepared, he poured them and the onion into the large frying pan as the smell of cooking pasta filled the kitchen. Now the water was boiling, the windows had fogged, obscuring his reflection from view and he was finally alone in peace, stirring the onions, garlic and bacon until they browned and softened. The repetitive movement in activities like cooking, James had noticed, allowed his mind to clear of anxieties. The clockwise circles of his stirring and the ambient noise of the boiling water and frying oil brought something that wasn’t exactly peace, but something akin to silence.

Soon he was sitting in his room, steaming plate of food now empty and laptop on, The Notebook playing as Allie asked why Duke had just called her ‘darling’. The last time he had watched this was with Aimee and he was surprised to find his eyes water and cheeks stained with tears. It was the only movie that, when he watched it the first and second times, made him cry. Now, he watched the same ending that caused him to unravel and though he didn’t fixate on this fact, James shed no tears. As Allie screamed for the nurses to let her go, James’ phone started buzzing. The call was from Aimee but before he could pick up, it turned off.

He tapped the call button, dial tone ringing as he put it on speaker. All he heard was her voicemail. Sighing, he hung up, just after a push notification showed him a message from her.

“Sorry I couldn’t pick up,” it read before the text bubble with three dots appeared, jumping one by one for what felt like hours, before she finally typed, “this isn’t working out. I don’t want to date you anymore.” James paused. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath and looked at the phone again to see two unsent texts from her, “I’m sorry. I hope you’re ok. I’m sure you’ll find someone else.” Did James want someone else? He started typing.

“Why?” As soon as he sent it, he deleted it.

“Fine.” Again he sent it and again he deleted it. Finally, he typed, “I understand. I’m fine. I’m sorry we weren’t working out. I hope you find someone you can be happy with.” Sent and read by Aimee, who’s icon indicated immediately after that she was offline. Turning off the phone, he saw his reflection in its dark screen, cheeks stained with tears, though he knew his eyes were dry as a desert. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he brought his plate to the dish-filled sink in the kitchen, before quickly turning to the vodka-filled decanter and glass. He poured the vodka into his glass, drowning the memories of the surprise in Ben’s face when he unwrapped the bulky present and the memories of many subsequent parties after as James drank the liqueur, alone, in one go. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw the windows, clear of fog, his reflection catching his gaze as it sipped from the glass, before turning away in shame.

James went to his call history, finding Nick’s name as the second name from the top. He tapped it, putting the speaker on as the dial tone rang, “hello,” the automatic voicemail message started, “I’m sorry but the person you’re calling is-” James hung up, taking a long drink from his glass. In less than fifteen minutes, the decanter was half-empty. James placed the decanter beside his glass on the table once more, steadying himself with one hand. As he picked up his glass, his phone rang, screen lighting up with the word Unknown. Taking a quick sip, James answered.

“Hello?” He said, voice coming out slightly deeper than normal, “yes,” James responded to the caller, dragging out the ‘s’ as if he were a snake. As the caller continued, James’ brow furrowed, “I see,” the grip on his glass tightened as he caught himself looking out the window and staring at his reflection, watching with indifference as it screamed soundlessly once more, “yes, I’ll be free tomorrow. I understand. I’ll see you then Doctor. Goodbye.” As soon as he hung up, he called Nick, waiting as the phone rang, only to be greeted with the familiar message, “Hello, I’m sorry but the person you’re calling is not available at the moment. Please hang up or leave a message after the tone. When you have finished recording, press the hash key for more options.”

“Nick,” he said after a deep breath, “Dr Morgan just called. He said Ben’s… Ben,” why couldn’t he say it? “Call me.” He hung up, reaching for the decanter, pausing, then turning to his phone once more and calling Aimee. Voicemail. Of course. Of course, he was sent straight to voicemail. His lip curled into a bitter smile as a chuckle crawled out of his mouth. Why would Aimee pick up? His chuckle turned into a looping cackle as he recalled Nick’s oath to listen to him anytime he called, leaning against the cold glass of his empty cup. Hearing his phone thud to the floor after he had unwittingly loosened his grip on it, he bent down to grab it, noticing the voicemail icon for the first time. Unlocking his phone, he called his voicemail, putting his phone to his ear.

“Welcome to your voicemail. You have two saved messages. First saved message received Monday 15th July: Hi James, its mum,” the glass in James’ hand slipped ever so slightly, the clear drink inside spilling onto the floor as the message continued, “I’m at the store now. What did you want?” The voicemail ended, “to save the message, press one-” James did as instructed, waiting for the second message to play, “-received Thursday, 12th September: Where are you?” The glass in James’ hand fell, the screams of the glass shattering into fragmented shards rang ignored as he listened, eyes brimming with tears, “I’m at platform one now but I can’t - oh nevermind there you are. James! Over here! James!” Like a dam breaking, his tears fell onto his once dry cheeks as his mother called out his name over and over again, she called as he cried, telling him, “I’m here James!”

END

#short story #original work #original fiction #fiction #drama

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democratsunited-blog · 6 years

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65 races will decide the House. Here's how Democrats could take control.

https://uniteddemocrats.net/?p=7286

65 races will decide the House. Here's how Democrats could take control.

Get breaking news alerts and special reports. The news and stories that matter, delivered weekday mornings.

WASHINGTON — With 95 days to go until Election Day, the House majority is up for grabs.

President Donald Trump’s below-average approval ratings, Democrats’ enthusiasm edge and a historic number of GOP open seats make Democrats the slight favorites to take control in the lower chamber. But what’s their route to picking up the 23 seats they need?

As Republican groups prepare to raise and spend over $100 million to prevent a Democratic takeover, the race-by-race battleground is coming into focus. The Cook Political Report rates 60 GOP-held seats and just five Democratic-held seats as at-risk — meaning Democrats need to win 28 of those 65 to win control.

We’ve identified eight types of races that will decide the House’s fate. The battleground is wide and spans many different slices of America — from the professional suburbs of Minneapolis to the coalfields of southern West Virginia.

Here’s a breakdown of what we estimate Democrats need in each of these eight categories to prevail in November.

Note: The Cook Political Report’s Partisan Voter Index, or PVI, is a metric of how much more Democratic or Republican a district has voted in the last two presidential elections compared to the nation as a whole.

Category 1: Races with Democratic departures

Democrats’ path to a majority starts with protecting their own vulnerable seats. Most of their incumbents are in excellent shape, but the party holds five open seats in districts that Trump carried in 2016. Of those, they’re sure to lose Pennsylvania’s 14th District, which Rep. Conor Lamb is leaving to run in a nearby seat after the state’s map was redrawn. The next two most vulnerable open seats are in rural Minnesota.

Democrats probably need: To hold 3 of 5.

Category 2: Clinton districts that saw a red exodus

There are 42 open or vacant Republican seats, the most since at least 1930. Of those, the most problematic for the GOP are the eight districts Hillary Clinton carried in 2016. In these seats, history is working against the GOP: Since 1992, in situations when a president’s party was stuck defending an open seat two years after the president failed to carry it, that party has batted zero for 23 keeping it in their column.

Democrats are almost guaranteed to pick up Pennsylvania’s 5th and 6th Districts after the state’s Supreme Court redrew them in February to be much more heavily Democratic. Republicans’ best opportunity to hold on to one of these seats is in Washington’s 8th District, where a well-known GOP businessman, Dino Rossi, has a financial head start over a divided Democratic field.

Democrats probably need: to flip 7 of 8.

Category 3: White-collar wonderlands souring on Trump

Democrats’ path to the majority depends on running up the score in elite, professional suburbs that are rapidly souring on the GOP in the Trump era. Ten GOP incumbents are at risk in highly college-educated districts Clinton carried in 2016: places like Orange County, California, and the suburbs of Chicago, Dallas and Kansas City, Missouri. Rep. Barbara Comstock in Virginia’s 10th District is the single most vulnerable.

Democrats probably need: to flip 5 of 10.

Category 4: Diverse Clinton districts represented by GOP

Another five at-risk Republicans represent highly diverse districts Clinton carried. Democrats’ challenge is that these incumbents tend to be personally popular and Latino turnout typically plummets in midterms. Reps. Carlos Curbelo in Florida’s 26th District and Will Hurd in Texas’s 23rd District are probably in the best shape to survive a wave, thanks to their vocal criticism of the president on immigration.

Democrats probably need: To flip 2 of 5.

Category 5: Trump districts that saw a red exodus

There are 11 more highly vulnerable Republican open seats that Trump carried, ranging from a seat he won by a point (New Jersey’s 11th District) to one he carried by 50 points (West Virginia’s 3rd District). They include Speaker Paul Ryan’s seat in Wisconsin, next week’s high-stakes special election in Ohio’s 12th District and Virginia’s 5th District, where the GOP nominee came under fire this week for his Bigfoot-related social media posts.

Democrats are virtually guaranteed to pick up New Jersey’s 2nd District, where popular moderate Rep. Frank LoBiondo is retiring and national Republicans withdrew support for their nominee upon learning of his comments critical of diversity. They’re also well-positioned to pick up New Jersey’s 11th District, where Appropriations Chairman Rodney Frelinghuysen chose not to seek re-election.

Democrats probably need: To flip 3 of 11.

Category 6: Districts where Trump surged in 2016

Polling shows Democrats in a surprisingly strong position in seven heavily white, working-class districts that swung hard toward Trump in 2016 (five of them voted for Obama in the past). Reps. Mike Bost in southern Illinois and Rod Blum in eastern Iowa are most vulnerable, and Reps. Greg Gianforte in Montana and Claudia Tenney in upstate New York have been their own worst enemies.

Democrats probably need: to flip 3 of 7.

Category 7: Races in bellwether suburbs

There are a dozen vulnerable GOP incumbents from suburban districts Trump carried by a single digit margin in 2016, and most represent a mix of professional and middle-class voters. Several, like Georgia’s 6th District, Michigan’s 8th District and Ohio’s 1st District, were gerrymandered to protect Republicans, but political trends have caused the GOP’s advantage to unravel.

Democrats probably need: to flip 3 of 12.

Category 8: Trump districts with an urban-rural divide

Democrats have pickup opportunities in seven districts Trump won that include both mid-size cities and large rural components. The risk for Republicans in these seats is that energized Democrats in cities like Des Moines, Iowa; Little Rock, Arkansas; and Spokane, Washington, turn out at sky-high numbers while voters in red, rural surrounding areas stay home. Reps. David Young in Iowa and Andy Barr in Kentucky are at the greatest risk.

Democrats probably need: to flip 2 of 7.

Bonus category: Blue tsunami watch

If Democrats are winning any of these long-shots seats on Election Night, the House is probably already a lost cause for Republicans. Yet not all of these races are looking secure for Republicans. For example, Democratic Air Force combat pilot M.J. Hegar has raised $1.6 million against 76-year old GOP Rep. John Carter in Texas’s 31st District.

Democrats probably need: None; winning any of them would be icing on their cake.

David Wasserman, House editor for The Cook Political Report, is an NBC News contributor and senior analyst with the NBC Election Unit.

Read full story here

#Democrats

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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Where To Eat & Drink With Your Dog added to Google Docs

Where To Eat & Drink With Your Dog

It’s shocking to think that anyone wouldn’t want your dog around. She’s perfect, hypo-allergenic, and mostly well-behaved. But the hard truth is that only some restaurants and bars in NYC are dog-friendly. So the next time you want to drink or eat somewhere with your real best friend, use this list. It has 29 bars and restaurants with patios where four legs are just as good as two.

the spots N 11th Cookout $ $ $ $ Bar Food , Burgers in Brooklyn , Williamsburg $$$$ 86 N 11th Street

Along with Sunglass Hut and Bed Bath & Beyond, few places have names that say it all like N 11th Street Cookout. In a formerly vacant lot on N 11th Street in Williamsburg, this outdoor-only spot serves burgers, hotdogs, Mexican street corn, and frozen pina coladas. Stop by until 11pm any day except Tuesday, and try the $6 “dad burger” before playing lawn games while your dog hangs out on the artificial turf under your picnic table.

Cookshop $ $ $ $ American in Chelsea $$$$ 156 10th Ave.

Going to Cookshop is like watching a rom-com during a thunderstorm - you know what to expect, and that’s exactly why you choose it. It works for just about any situation thanks to excellent vegetables, a perfectly proportioned cheeseburger, and one of the best roast chickens in NYC. This Chelsea spot also has lots of dog-friendly outdoor seating, which is open for lunch and dinner every day, as well as weekend brunch.

Ollie's Ice Cream $ $ $ $ Ice Cream in Brooklyn , Bushwick $$$$ 158 Irving Ave

If you’re a human, then Ollie’s should be your go-to ice cream spot in Bushwick. If you’re a dog, then Ollie’s will be the second most amazing thing in your life (presumably after your newest squeaky toy). And if you’re a human with a pet dog, then your enthusiasm should lie somewhere in between. Assuming your dog likes dog things, he’ll be a fan of the “pup cup” ice cream with peanut butter and crushed dog treats. And assuming you like human things, you’ll probably enjoy the kettle corn ice cream with salty caramel, or the rich and chunky red velvet. Whatever you order, eat it on a bench in Maria Hernandez Park two blocks away.

Mission Dolores $ $ $ $ Park Slope $$$$ 249 4th Ave

While you’d get strange looks from, well, everyone, wearing roller shoes would help you keep up with your kids, and allow you to get towed around by your dog. Think about the pros and cons while you all hang out at Mission Dolores. This bar on the Gowanus/Park Slope border has a great beer list, which you should explore as you try to decide if you could pull off LED soles.

Bronx Alehouse $ $ $ $ Bar Food , Burgers in Bronx $$$$ 216 W 238th St

We can’t in good conscience recommend feeding deep-fried mac and cheese or spicy double-cooked buffalo wings to your dog. However, we feel good about telling you to eat them, especially if you pair them with some of the hard-to-find microbrews on tap at Bronx Alehouse.

Five Leaves $ $ $ $ American in Brooklyn , Greenpoint $$$$ 18 Bedford Ave.

After you’re done convincing yourself that all of those adoring looks from strangers in McCarren Park are focused on you and not your dog, head to brunch a few steps north of the park at Five Leaves. There will likely be a pretty long wait, but that just gives you more time to bask in your dog’s splendor before you sit down for ricotta pancakes or a burger topped with egg and grilled pineapple.

Barking Dog $ $ $ $ American in Upper East Side $$$$ 1678 3rd Ave

You could go to Central Park, but before long, you’d be drinking lukewarm spiked seltzer while letting your dog drink from the one bottle of water you remembered to bring. Or you could go to Barking Dog two blocks from the park on the UES. They serve brunch every day from 8am-4pm, Happy Hour beers and margaritas from 3-7pm, and they even have a tiled, in-ground watering hole for dogs.

Five Boroughs Brewing Co. $ $ $ $ Bar Food in Brooklyn , Sunset Park $$$$ 215 47th St

The taproom at this Sunset Park brewery is currently open Thursday through Sunday, meaning you can drink hazy IPAs, pumpkin ales, and Belgian tripels a few feet from where they’re made. Whether you know all four “noble” varieties of hops, or you just like trying local beers that haven’t gone mainstream yet, sit around an upright cask that doubles as your outdoor table, and ask the extremely knowledgeable staff which six-packs you should take to-go.

Blondies $ $ $ $ Bar Food in Upper West Side $$$$ 212 W 79th St

In fits of rebellion, kids have a tendency to root against their parents’ favorite sports team. Dogs show no such insubordination. That makes them ideal companions when you’re looking to watch a game, and the ideal place to watch that game is Blondies. Not only does this Upper West Side sports bar show everything from tennis to hockey on their outdoor TVs, but they also serve some of the best buffalo wings in NYC.

Oleg March Ten Hope $ $ $ $ Mediterranean in Brooklyn , Williamsburg $$$$ 10 Hope St

The massive outdoor space at this Mediterranean spot in Williamsburg feels like a parking lot that went a bit overboard at West Elm. It’s covered in hanging vines and string lights, and even the brick walls are decorated with what look like black and white Tetris blocks. Once seated at a bright wood table, you can order jalapeno margaritas and shrimp and scallop ceviche while handing your dog bits of the fried pita that comes on the side.

Bar Primi $ $ $ $ Pasta , Italian in East Village , NOHO $$$$ 325 Bowery

The sidewalk at Bar Primi is the ripest people-watching territory in the East Village mostly because of the fluffy dogs spread out under the outdoor tables and little pups on their owner’s laps. Our favorite time to come to this Italian spot is during brunch, when you can get a breakfast pasta with an egg (and your dog can watch you eat it and plot her eventual revenge involving the shag carpet in your apartment that you love so much).

Cafe Du Soleil $ $ $ $ French in Upper West Side $$$$ 2723 Broadway

The buttery French food at Cafe Du Soleil is exactly the kind of thing you’ll want to eat outside on a sidewalk with sunglasses on and a glass of wine in hand, while you and your beagle named Bruce judge everyone who walks by. This UWS bistro is classic and unfussy, and it’s perfect for a casual weeknight date or hang with your family. Another thing of note: they do a mussel night on Mondays where you can get a beer or a glass of wine with your moule frites for $21 (our favorite comes with a dijonnaises sauce).

Union Pizza Works $ $ $ $ Pizza , Italian in Bushwick $$$$ 423 Troutman St

We once saw a pony-sized Doberman sitting in the front yard at Union Pizza Works in Bushwick. It raised two points. 1) How big is this person’s apartment? 2) Can we feed it pizza? The backyard here is so large, that it could fit the Doberman and all of his Doberman friends and there would still be room for you and a date. We really like the crust on the 12-inch Neapolitan pies here, specifically the one that’s built like a sandwich with melted mozzarella, arugula, and prosciutto di parma between two pies. In addition to your dog, bring a friend or a birthday party. And pray that you see the Doberman.

Klein's $ $ $ $ American in Brooklyn , Williamsburg $$$$ 97 Wythe Avenue

You’ve always said your dog is cuter than the ones in the dog show on ESPN, and while you may never spend thousands of dollars on doggy blowouts and teeth whitening to prove it, you can get a sense of what it’s like at Klein’s. That’s because this all-day spot in the Hoxton Hotel in Williamsburg is slightly below ground, and the outdoor tables are center stage for rows of stadium seating filled with people drinking coffee or mimosas. After you finish eggs benedict with tomato hollandaise or the excellent burger topped with melted blue cheese, take your dog into the stands to meet the fans.

THEP Thai Restaurant THEP $ $ $ $ Thai in Upper East Side $$$$ 1439 2nd Ave

THEP Thai is one of our favorite Thai spots uptown, in part because it has something most others don’t. It’s called outdoor seating. Bring your animal, and take advantage. This place is perfect for a casual weeknight dinner when your dog is starting to resent you for always being absent, and you want some quality khao soi, pad see ew, or crab fried rice.

Lafayette $ $ $ $ French in NOHO $$$$ 380 Lafayette St

In terms of people-watching opportunities, Lafayette is in the top tier of New York restaurants. It’s a massive French restaurant in Noho with plenty of sidewalk seating where you sit beneath a big blue umbrella and keep an eye on everyone walking down Lafayette Street. And your dog will enjoy this just as much as you do, especially if any of those people have tennis balls or shiny objects. As for the food, order some escargot and beef tartare, and use your dog to make friends with someone who has a washing machine or access to a swimming pool.

Harlem Tavern $ $ $ $ Harlem $$$$ 2153 Frederick Douglass Blvd

Harlem Tavern is like most neighborhood bars, except for a few key differences. First off, it has a massive food menu with everything from ceviche and gumbo to a bunch of different burgers and salads. And for such an ambitious menu, the food is actually pretty good. There’s also a huge patio out front that’s about the size of a basketball court - and that’s the main thing that sets this place apart. Bring your dog, grab a table outside, and snack on some french fries while you have a frozen drink.

Shake Shack Shake Shack $ $ $ $ Burgers in Flatiron $$$$ Madison Square Park

As much as you might think you like eating outside at the Shake Shack in Madison Square Park, the dogs of New York City like it more. Mostly because there are trees, and other dog butts to smell, and something humans eat called cheeseburgers. We’re fairly certain they talk about this place like it’s heaven.

Pig Beach $ $ $ $ BBQ in Gowanus $$$$ 480 Union Street

Pig Beach is a huge BBQ spot next to the canal in Gowanus, and the majority of the space here is an outdoor courtyard. Sit at a picnic table, and see how long you can resist before you start slipping Milo pieces of pulled pork and brisket.

Lavender Lake $ $ $ $ American in Brooklyn , Gowanus $$$$ 383 Carroll St.

Lavender Lake is about a block away from Pig Beach, and it has a great, dog-friendly backyard full of picnic tables. It also serves better-than-average bar food like burgers, calamari, and fried chicken sandwiches.

The Mermaid Inn $ $ $ $ Seafood , Raw Bar in Upper West Side $$$$ 570 Amsterdam Ave.

Mermaid Inn is a seafood spot on the Upper West Side with a great oyster Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30pm every day, which includes $1.25 oysters as well as discounted cocktails and glasses of wine. If you stick around for dinner, try the crab cakes or lobster roll. Either way, bring your dog, and sit on the patio out front.

Lucky Dog $ $ $ $ Brooklyn , Williamsburg $$$$ 303 Bedford Ave

Lucky Dog is the premier drinking-with-your-dog destination in Williamsburg. Maybe that’s because of the name, or maybe it’s because this semi-divey bar is on a busy stretch of Bedford Avenue and has a nice backyard. Either way, whether you want to drink a beer with your dog or just pet someone else’s Golden Retriever while they aren’t looking, come here.

The Springs $ $ $ $ Greenpoint $$$$ 224 Franklin St

You struck up a conversation with some other people in the lobby at doggy daycare, and decided you should all get together. Now you need a place that’s big enough so Koda doesn’t have to sit on your lap while you try to find out if the owner of that dachshund is single. This Greenpoint bar has a huge backyard full of tables and couches, and since it’s pretty far north, it rarely gets too crowded.

Anable Basin $ $ $ $ Bar Food in Long Island City $$$$ 4-40 44th Dr

You want to have some drinks on the water, but your options are limited - places serving $19 glasses of sparkling rosé to people in white linen pants don’t tend to be dog-friendly. Head to Anable Basin, an outdoor bar in LIC with great views of Manhattan. There are a bunch of picnic tables right on the East River where you can have some drinks and bar food while your canine roommate barks like crazy at the ferry docking nearby.

Nowadays $ $ $ $ Queens , Ridgewood $$$$ 56-06 Cooper Ave

If you’re looking for space, Nowadays has it. This giant bar in Ridgewood has a park-sized backyard full of trees, picnic tables, and games like ping pong. Your dog technically needs to be on a leash, but will appreciate being outside where it’s at least possible to stare at birds and think about eating them.

The Breakers $ $ $ $ Bar Food in Williamsburg $$$$ 282 Meeker Ave

This SoCal surf-themed bar spot in the space where Battery Harris used to be has a nice patio where you can eat fried chicken sandwiches and drink draft wines while your dog dreams about eating fried chicken, and, just maybe, drinking wine.

LIC Bar $ $ $ $ Bar Food in Long Island City $$$$ 45-58 Vernon Blvd

The ivy-covered courtyard at LIC Bar is a great place to hang out with your dog. Get a shot and beer special, and hang out in the backyard, where there’s live music every weekend in the summer.

Forrest Point $ $ $ $ American in Bushwick $$$$ 970 Flushing Ave.

The outside of Forrest Point in Bushwick kind of looks like a park, so don’t be surprised if your dog immediately starts looking for squirrels to chase. On the weekends this is a good place for an affordable brunch, and it becomes more of a party as the day goes on. It also works well for a casual dinner outside during the week.

Habana Outpost $ $ $ $ American , Cuban in Brooklyn , Fort Greene $$$$ 757 Fulton St

Habana Outpost is at its best in the summer, when people come to eat things like Cuban sandwiches under colorful umbrellas at picnic tables on the big outdoor patio.

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/new-york/guides/dog-friendly-restaurants-bars Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

Created September 5, 2020 at 05:42AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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lrmartinjr · 5 years

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Democrats may soon schedule a firehouse primary to pick a nominee to compete for the 86th District of Virginia State House of Delegates seat.

#The vacancy depends on results in the special election for Virginia State Senate District 33 on Jan. 8, 2019. In the Senate special election, Democratic nominee and current state Del. Jennifer B. Boysko (D-86) faces Republican nominee, former Del. Joe T. May (R) to fill the seat to be vacated by Jennifer Wexton (D) who won election to Virginia's 10th Congressional District.

#If Boysko wins the seat representing the 33rd, a special election must be conducted to fill the vacant seat she will leave behind in the Virginia General Assembly. The Democratic firehouse primary for Virginia State Delegate 86th District would be Saturday, Jan. 12, 2019, between 10 a.m.- 4 p.m.

#FOUR DEMOCRATS so far announced their intentions to run for the possible vacancy. Former Herndon Mayor Mike O'Reilly, Chad Thompson, Kofi Annan and Ibraheem Samirah announced their intentions to run given Boysko’s win.

Click on the headline to continue reading.

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jasonheart1 · 5 years

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Lakewood officer charged with sexual assault

LAKEWOOD, Colo. — A Lakewood police officer has been arrested after he allegedly offered a stranded woman a ride and then sexually assaulted her.

On Wednesday evening, the Denver Police Department arrested Randall Shaun Butler, a 37-year-old Lakewood police officer, on two counts of sexual assault.

Denver police reached out to the Lakewood Police Department to inform them of the investigation of Butler sexually assaulting an adult woman.

When the Lakewood Police Department learned about the allegations, Butler was put on administrative leave. Shortly after that, he resigned from his position. He had been a member of the Lakewood Police Department since January 2013.

The charges allege that on Nov. 17 around 11 p.m., Butler offered to drive a woman who had become stranded near 10th Avenue and Sheridan to a more secure location near her home. Butler allegedly drove the woman to a vacant parking lot at 25th Avenue and Sheridan Avenue, where the alleged sexual assault occurred, according to the Denver DA's Office. Butler then left the victim and drove away in his patrol car.

The woman used Denver Police Department’s online system www.SeekThenSpeak.org that night to report the assault.

According to an affidavit, the woman said she had been involved in an argument with a friend at a bar near 7th Avenue and Sheridan Avenue. She went to a nearby business to use a phone to call for a ride, but it did not work. When her friend started yelling at the woman about his lost phone, a police officer — later identified as Butler — pulled up and asked if the woman was OK. She said she was and just needed a ride home. Butler said, "OK" and then drove away, according to the affidavit.

The woman started to walk toward her home and was a few blocks away when Butler pulled up next to her. She continued walking but said she didn't want to get in trouble, so she walked to his car. When he asked if she needed a ride and that he could only go as far as 20th Avenue and Sheridan, the woman decided to take up the offer since it got her a little closer to home. The officer pulled into a dirt driveway, got out of the car and opened the back door for her to get inside, according to the affidavit.

As they drove, the officer said he was going to drop her off closer to 25th Avenue instead of the 7-Eleven at 20th Avenue and Sheridan Avenue. When they arrived at the parking lot, he opened the back door for her and she thanked him for the ride. He asked for her number, which she gave to him.

"He then said, 'You look like you want to kiss me.' I did not want to," the affidavit reads. "That's when I knew I was in trouble. I knew that things were going to get worse and if I didn't do what I was told, he could hurt me."

The officer started to kiss the woman and touch her. He asked her if she had a condom. Then, he raped her over the back seat of the police car, according to the affidavit. Afterward, he got back in the car and sped away.

The woman ran down the alley to a 7-Eleven to use their phone and called her mom, telling her she'd been sexually assaulted by a cop.

She went to a hospital where she said a nurse made her "feel like pure trash," according to the affidavit. They said she'd need to call police and would have to go to another hospital for an exam. At that point, the woman said she gave up, though she stayed "heartbroken" over it and was "scared as hell to talk to the police about it," the affidavit reads.

When a Denver detective first started investigating the incident, he met with a sergeant with the Lakewood Police Department. The sergeant said Butler had told him that he had picked up a woman to give her a courtesy ride that night. Butler claimed that when he was dropping her off, she started kissing him and that "his impulses got the best of him," according to the affidavit. The sergeant said nobody in the department had express concerns about Butler.

In a press release, the Lakewood Police Department said it is fully committed to cooperating with Denver police during this investigation.

“The appalling and inexcusable conduct in no way embodies the Lakewood Police Department’s mission to serve and protect with integrity, intelligence and initiative,” said Police Chief Daniel McCasky. “This behavior has no place in our department and will never be tolerated. The arrest of Butler is demoralizing to our organization. As this investigation continues, our top priorities are to remain committed to the safety and well-being of the victim, and to the pursuit of justice for our community.”

In addition to the ongoing efforts of Denver detectives, Lakewood police are also reviewing any allegations of possible misconduct against Butler during his time at the department.

Anybody with information on Butler’s actions while he was employed with the Lakewood Police Department is encouraged to call 303-763-6800.

Butler is scheduled to appear in court Thursday at 1:30 p.m.

from Local News https://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/crime/lakewood-police-officer-charged-with-sexual-assault-after-allegedly-offering-help-to-stranded-woman

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ixvyupdates · 6 years

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This Is How We Get More Millennials to Be Teachers

When salary, stress levels and upward mobility are among the top career priorities for millennials, the state of our nation’s teaching profession is more dire than the recent strikes indicate.

These strikes, rooted in persistent problems teachers face, run deeper than the need for a mere pay increase. Poor benefits, minimal support and stifled career pathways are having profound consequences on the occupation. The teachers picketing are the ones who have lasted, hanging on to a career many of their peers have fled altogether.

I started my career at PriceWaterhouseCoopers before making a radical transition to teach in an elementary classroom in Baltimore. I believed that education was a doorway out of poverty, and having worked at a systems level in social services, I wanted to understand from the classroom level how to help school systems.

Compared to the corporate sector, the lack of support I encountered in education was glaring. At Price Waterhouse, I had immediate online access to information about the best practices and materials to support the problems of any client at my fingertips. When I started teaching, I didn’t even have a science curriculum!

At Price Waterhouse, someone prepared my materials or made copies for me. As a teacher, I didn’t have access to a working copy machine the majority of the time.

Due to a lack of interesting leadership roles, status and opportunities to learn with colleagues, I decided to leave the classroom after two years, and I’m not alone.

Why Teachers Are Leaving

In a phenomenon known as the “leaky bucket,” educators choosing to abandon the classroom has become so prevalent that a 2017 study found that 90 percent of vacant teaching positions are formed by teachers leaving the profession. To make matters worse, the schools that have the most teachers leaving are high-needs, which generally teach minorities and those below the poverty line. Children who are in need of quality education the most are subjected to a revolving door of educators.

Hundreds of thousands of teachers leave the profession each year. Over the past five years, enrollment in teacher preparation programs has fallen nearly 35 percent—a decrease of nearly 240,000 teachers in all. Teacher shortages are a reality in every state, particularly in high-needs, high-poverty areas. States like Arizona have such a shortage, they have begun importing teachers from the developing world. Though a limited phenomenon, it elucidates the reality of the teacher labor market.

As seen in the recent teacher strikes, salary is a point of contention. Teachers’ salaries reflect the hours they are contracted to work, not the hours they actually work. In numbers, the national average starting salary is $38,617. Divided by days in a school year, by hours actually worked, that’s an average of $21.45—only twice the amount of minimum wage. These numbers don’t factor cost of benefits that are taken out of monthly wages.

This may also explain why teachers are leaving high-needs schools the most, as teachers in those schools were shown to be paid approximately $2,500 less per year. Teachers that work in districts with a maximum salary of more than $72,000 are 31 percent less likely to leave their positions.

According to research, the teachers that have the highest chance of leaving their schools are the ones that report a lack of administrative support. Administrators can set up time, resources and structures that save teachers time and allow teachers to work effectively together in empowered ways. They can also set up school wide structures that prevent unnecessary problems that make teaching more challenging than it already is.

How to Recruit and Retain Millennial Educators

This is a call for a renascent interest in the teaching profession. More teacher development, opportunities to engage teachers and recognition of leadership skills with financial incentives are imperative to securing a consistent, valued teacher workforce.

When 87 percent of millennials say professional development is important and 59 percent say opportunities to learn and grow are extremely important when applying for a job, it is high time teachers are provided development opportunities and a clear career ladder.

Too often in the education profession, the first year of the job is the same as the 10th. Schools need to create performance-based pathways that allow teachers to master skills and move into leadership roles.

Enter microcredentials, a form of professional development that diverts from traditional seat time and workshops. Microcredentials are a way to recognize skills teachers have mastered, like classroom management or analyzing student data.

Teaching Matters, a nonprofit that aids high-needs schools in developing and retaining quality educators, has issued over 250 microcredentials over the last four months and has issued over 1,700 in all. This strategy provides educators the opportunity to make more money, earn deserved recognition for achievement and growth and apply for leadership opportunities.

An established career trajectory alters the number of years millennials stay in jobs—of those who left employers, 93 percent moved on to change roles. Through our microcredentialing process, there has been a 65 percent increase in teacher leadership positions in New York City’s highest-needs schools. Around 17 percent of US teachers leave the profession entirely within the first five years, but a staggering 92 percent of teachers in leadership positions through Teaching Matters plan to stay in the profession beyond the next five years.

It has taken teacher strikes in six states to bring attention to undervalued educators, showing how grossly misunderstood the state of our nation’s teaching profession is. We need a paradigm shift toward valuing and investing in the profession that draws in and keeps new talent. Enabling career growth, providing support and offering financial incentives are paramount. Our children’s education depends on it.

Photo courtesy of Teach For America/Facebook.

This Is How We Get More Millennials to Be Teachers syndicated from https://sapsnkraguide.wordpress.com

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rebeccahpedersen · 6 years

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Tall Tales From The Trenches On Feelgood Friday!

TorontoRealtyBlog

Last Friday, when I offered another edition of “Photos of the Week,” a couple of readers mentioned that rather than sharing negative reviews of listings, photos, and seller/agent behaviour, I should provide some feel-good examples of listings done right.

So in the spirit of positivity, let me offer you a story for “Feelgood Friday.”

Perhaps I don’t often share enough of the good stories, and despite this chaotic market, there are many.

Last week, I sold a condo listing amid 13 offers, and the ending sent chills up my spine…

You’ve heard this from me before, but I honestly don’t enjoy working on the selling side on “offer night” during multiple offers.

Most listing agents love it.

I mean, what’s not to love?

Power? Status? Envy?

That’s not me, I’m sorry.

Call me dramatic, but when I receive 13 offers on a listing, I can’t help but think about the twelve buyers, and buyer agents, who go home disappointed.

Once the “winning” bid has been accepted, I personally call all the agents with unsuccessful offers to tell them that I appreciate their offer, and their efforts, and that I hope to see them again out there in the real estate trenches.

In today’s market, when you have 13 offers on a property, the person-to-person connection often goes out the window. More to the point, the buyer-to-seller connection goes with it.

Some of my clients couldn’t possibly care less who buys their house or condo, and yet to some, it’s tremendously important.

The first property sale I ever witnessed was my childhood home, which I mentioned in my Pick5 video today, on Parkhurst Boulevard in Leaside.

It was the spring of 1992, and I was 12-years-old.

I remember my father telling me, as I was upset that we had sold the house and were moving that a “young couple” were going to buy the house, and “start a family.”

In my mind, this was our house. I belonged to us, and no matter what happened, and who moved in, it would always be our house.

Once we had moved out of our home, and into our new one on Bessborough Drive, we went back to the vacant house on Parkhurst, God knows why. I think my brother, sister, and myself wanted to say some sort of “goodbye” before the deal closed, and another family moved in.

I remember laying on the floor of my bedroom so vividly, I can almost smell the 80’s carpet fibres, which always seemed a little dirty, and a little greasy. My mom was trying to round up her three kids to get going, and she walked by the doorway to my tiny room, saw me laying on the floor with my arms outstretched as though I were hugging my room, and said aloud, “Oh my God, I knew this was a mistake.”

When we moved to Bessborough, I still thought of Parkhurst as “my house.”

Our family jogging route took us from Bessborough Drive along the outskirts of Leaside – Bayview, Southvale, Laird, and then back up Parkhurst to Bayview again. We jogged by our old home hundreds of times.

We moved to Parkhurst from a house around the corner on Airdrie Road shortly after I was born in 1980, and lived there until 1992 – a total of twelve years.

I remember in 2005, chatting with my sister, when she said, “Can you believe the family who moved into our old house on Parkhurst has now been there longer than us?”

It was crazy-talk to me.

Longer than us? Really? How could that be?

“Time flies,” and all that? Twelve years?

I remember when I was coaching Bantam baseball from 2007 to 2013, at some point one of the kids mentioned a party at the house (why do parents leave they teenagers alone???), and my head popped up. I gave them the address, and they said, “Yeah, you know it?”

Time flies, indeed. It seemed that the non-existent child from the “young couple” who were “going to start a family” as my Dad told me back in 1992, was now a 17-year-old, throwing parties with the kids I coached.

Well, guess what? That family is still there.

They’ve been there now for a whopping twenty-six years, by my count.

And I think it’s fair to say, that of all the people that have ever owned that particular property, the 26-year tenure really makes it their house.

I think if you took a quick poll, and perhaps we should do that, you’d find that the ratio of people who care, and don’t care, about who buys their home, is about 50/50.

When I received 13 offers on my condo listing last week, my sellers said they really wanted to know who was buying the property from them.

They’re a really nice couple, and I could tell from the first time I entered their condo, that they take an immense amount of pride in their home. They also like to entertain, and left behind in that condo, as is the case with everybody who moves, are a slew of good memories, great times with friends and family, and a few years of their lives.

When we settled on the “winning” bid of the thirteen offers, I called the buyer agent to let her know. She was a little surprised, as anybody would be in the midst of thirteen offers, and she said, “My client will not believe this!”

She told me again, “You will not believe how much this means to my client, just, wow.”

I’ve heard it before; emotions run high in these situations, and the reactions are often hyperbolic.

I emailed the accepted offer, and asked the agent where she was, and where I could get the certified bank draft for the deposit.

And then things started to get really interesting.

“She’s at King & Sherbourne,” the agent said. “I’m in the west end; I could go meet her, then meet you, wherever you are.”

I told her that I actually live two blocks from King & Sherbourne, and provided she trusted me interacting with her buyer-client, I was happy to save her the trip at 9pm in the evening, and go meet the buyer myself.

She took me up on the offer, and was quite grateful.

“Let me give you the address,” she told me, and I said, “I already know.”

Creepy-sounding, but it wasn’t. “230 King Street East?” I asked.

“Yes, wow, how did you know?”

“I lived there for five years,” I told her. “When you said ‘King & Sherbourne,’ I had a feeling.”

Ironically, in hindsight, I realize it could have been 39 Sherbourne Street, aka “King Plus Condo,” which is directly across from King’s Court at 230 King Street.

But I just had a feeling it was my old stomping grounds, and I got in my car, and headed down.

I got to the condo, and walked in through the beautiful lobby (it’s an old bank where they’ve preserved the interior as it was in the 1900’s, and even have ‘before’ photos posted on the walls), then found a seat on the padded benches in a separate waiting area off the mailroom.

It was on that very bench, on the same side, in the very same spot, where I waited for a friend of mine to meet me, along with my mother, back in 2005 when I was looking at purchasing a condo in the building. And here I was, years later, waiting for somebody else, who was looking to buy a condo.

Not exactly the same situation; this lady was looking to buy someplace else, but the coincidence wasn’t lost on me.

I met the woman, as she peeked around the corner and asked, “David?”

She was carrying with her a dog that, I swear – I actually did a double-take as I thought it was my dog.

The resemblance was uncanny.

“That’s my dog’s face,” I told her. “The nose, the eyes, the little teeth – this is my dog!”

It was a half Maltese, half Yorkie, just like my dog. Yet another coincidence.

She handed me the deposit cheque, and we chatted for a while.

She told me that the dog was a rescue, which was ironic, given I had literally just had a conversation with my wife about adopting a rescue dog. Not any time soon, of course. We have a dog, and a 17-month-old baby. Another dog is not in the cards. But my wife volunteers for a non-profit called “Save our Scruff,” which helps find owners for rescued and abused dogs, and she said if we ever get another dog, it’ll be a rescue.

As we chatted, I asked the new-buyer what the importance of her offer price was.

I realized as soon as the words came out of my mouth that it’s a far more personal question than it seems.

A buyer might offer $800,610, because they got married on June 10th.

I’ve seen all kinds of numbers, with all kinds of meanings. Birthdays, anniversaries, lucky numbers in various cultures, favourite numbers, sports jersey numbers, number of children – anything you can think of.

Of course in this case, the lady said, “My Dad.” And then added, “My Mum.”

“My dad died on that date,” she told me. And as the lump in my throat started to grow, she said, “And my Mum on the other date.”

Oh boy. Well, add “death date” to the list of potential numbers and meanings above. I guess I didn’t think of that.

“I actually lost both my parents in a very short time,” she added. “In the same month.”

Right. I was so glad to bring that back up for her…

But you know what? She wasn’t sad. She was actually happy!

“My parents always wanted to help me buy a place,” she told me. “And tonight, they did.”

Boy, was I ever caught off guard.

I have to be honest, maybe I’m not a deep enough person, but I never really thought of it that way.

We had 13 offers, and as is always the case, the bidding was close.

The dates of her parents’ passing were used in her offer price, and those numbers helped her win the property.

In essence, her parents did “help her buy a place.” as she put it.

It was heart-warming, and the coincidences were not lost on me.

But there was even more ahead.

She told me how she had been a tenant in the same unit for eight years, and how recently her landlord asked her to sign a new lease, at a much higher price than what was permitted by law. When she respectfully declined, he sent her a Form N12 by email, with no subject line, and no text. Just the form.

The form specified that a family member would be moving into the unit, specifically his son. She added that she had known him for eight years as his tenant, and she was pretty sure he didn’t have a son…

Rather than dwell on her situation, she decided now would be the time to take the plunge into the housing market, and she started to look at condos.

I know a lot of buyers say this, so it sounds cliché, but she said, “As soon as I walked into the condo, I felt like I was home.”

“They had my stuff,” she said. “Half the stuff I have, they have!”

They also had a dog, as did she, and she had always wanted a terrace for the pup. This condo, by the way, happened to have a 300 square foot terrace.

The coincidences, similarities, and happenstance was just too much. I stood there in the lobby of my old building, and smiled.

And then came the clincher.

She told me, “I just absolutely love that terrace! I’ve always wanted one,” she said. “I actually live above a huge terrace in my current unit.”

It made me think.

“Do you live above the units on the second floor – the ones with the 440 square foot terraces?” I asked.

“I do!” she said.

I knew these rather well, of course. There are six units with 440 square foot terraces, as I used to own one.

“I used to live in one,” I said. “Which unit are you in?” I asked her.

“Unit xx2,” she told me.

Go figure.

“Small world,” I said. I used to live four floors below you. Directly below you. I’m was in Unit xy2.

We both laughed.

What are the odds?

She actually lived there, a few floors above me, for two years while I was there.

We shook hands, I went out to my car, and I went home feeling good.

This can often be a miserable business, and I’m sorry to say, but an overwhelming majority of interactions that you have with people, no matter what role they play, are negative.

So how good did I feel, meeting such a pleasant lady, with such a great story about bidding on and winning this condo, with all these incredible coincidences and personal connections?

That’s a rhetorical question. And suffice it to say, you don’t have to guess how happy my sellers were to hear the following day what a great person they sold their beloved condo to.

Perhaps I’m being overly-sentimental, or maybe you caught me on an off day.

But most “tales from the trenches” don’t end well, so I’m glad I could provide you one on an otherwise feelgood-Friday…

The post Tall Tales From The Trenches On Feelgood Friday! appeared first on Toronto Real Estate Property Sales & Investments | Toronto Realty Blog by David Fleming.

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northshorehealthandfitness · 7 years

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Chicago adventures: Architectural boat tour + Hamilton!

Hi friends! How are you? Hope you’re having a lovely week. I’m still dragging after returning from Chicago, but am slowly getting my mojo back. I got very used to staying up until 2am Valdosta time and sleeping in. I felt like my phone was taunting me when the alarm went off this week, but it was WAY worth it; we had such an amazing time.

Chicago, you are so pretty.

When we got into Chicago, we took the train downtown and checked into our hotel: the Ritz-Carlton Chicago. The Pilot said I tricked him because it’s located in the water tower building, which is a 6-story shopping center. (Apparently OPRAH USED TO LIVE IN THAT BUILDING.) These things don’t happen by accident haha. Betsy and I also chose this hotel because it was in such a great location: surrounded by shops, restaurants, and fun opportunities to explore.

The room was beautiful. It had a sitting area with a couch and a couple of chairs, two bathrooms, a comfy bed + magnificent views of the city.

When we walked into our room, we were surprised to see chocolate-covered strawberries and a little card for our 10th anniversary. It was an awesome touch.

We met up with Betsy and Jeremy to walk around the area, and then got dressed for dinner at Alinea! (The full recap is here. It was one of the best meals of my life.)

In addition to all of the amazing food we ate, we also enjoyed a lot of unique Chicago experiences.

Here are some of the highlights:

Farmer’s market

While we were walking to meet Mara and her family for brunch, we wandered through a farmer’s market. I love getting the chance to explore local farmer’s markets when I travel, especially since it gives me an idea of the fresh produce in the area, the types of handmade and artisan creations they offer, and we can check out local artists and musicians. Something about walking around a farmer’s market with a fresh juice makes me really happy.

While we didn’t pick up anything to take home, and didn’t eat anything since we were on the way to eat brunch + every dessert on the Nico Osteria menu, we did pick up some cute pumpkin branches to take to Mara.

The Surgical Sciences museum

(Dress is Saloni, shoes <— on sale, and handbag <— on sale)

This was completely accidental, and we meandered in on our way to Lincoln Park. It was fascinating to get a glimpse into the history of medicine and pharmaceuticals -we’ve come a long way, folks- and some of the old medical tools and instruments were very appropriate for Halloween-time.

The above picture is of a bone crusher that they used to use to break bones and reset them in proper alignment… minus anesthesia, natch.

The Architectural boat tour

Chicago is an architectural wonder, especially since it rebuilt itself after the great fire that destroyed a vast majority of the city. While the fire was tragic and thousands of locals were left homeless, Chicago quickly rebuilt itself. The architects who came in saw the land as a clean slate. Chicago is one of the cities where the skyscraper originated, and you’ll see so many different styles and unique details on the structures.

My dad is an architect, so since I was young, I’ve always been intrigued by design and ornamentation of houses and buildings. When Betsy suggested the boat tour, and so many people had suggested it, we thought it would be a fun afternoon activity. We hopped onto a boat on the river, and on the 90-minute tour, we learned a lot about the history of Chicago and the different buildings. I would highly recommend it if you’re traveling to Chicago!

My favorite story was about the old Post Office (where the Batman movie Dark Knight was filmed) and the fact that it’s been vacant for 20 years. Now, they have a permit to turn it into a residential complex and are quickly transforming it. For now, it looks pretty creepy, but I’m sure it will be fixed up and sparkling in no time. While we went up the river, we also found a lot of goals areas where we’d like to live. (If it didn’t snow so much and turn into a frozen tundra, I would want to live in Chicago.) Noteworthy: the boat had a full bar + free cookies.

Hamilton!!

As you guys know, I’ve been obsessed with Hamilton for at least two years. (I even dedicated a workout to my Hammy love. #truefan.) Despite playing it constantly, I’m still not sick of the soundtrack.. and Liv and P know some of the words. Maybe inappropriate. Who knows.

(Dress is here)

For our 10th anniversary, the Pilot told me he’d take me to see it. We were originally thinking we’d go to NYC, but when we heard it was playing in Chicago, and Betsy and Jeremy had suggested a joint vacay, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity. Thankfully we were able to snag some tickets, and it felt very surreal when we were finally in the room where it happens.

We grabbed glasses of champagne, and we took our seats.

Even though I was extremely excited and had been looking forward to it for months, I was expecting to be the smallest bit underwhelmed. Don’t get me wrong; I was sure I would LOVE it, but in my heart, nothing would compare to Lin-Manuel Miranda and the original cast. I thought maybe this particular cast would try to “copy” the sounds and styles of the original cast members. I was SO so wrong. Everyone brought their own unique style, nuances, and flavor to their characters. Their voices were INSANE, and I had the chills the entire time. I also cried pretty much the entire second act.

Miguel Cervantes was beyond incredible as Hamilton. We got to meet him after the show, and he was so kind and humble.

Everyone was amazing, but King George was particularly hilarious (the audience was cracking up during his numbers) and Aaron Burr. He blew us all away. He had so much heart, and a strong, incredible voice.

With Aaron Burr, sir.

(Gregory Treco. I failed on making a mad Aaron Burr face for the pic.)

It felt like such an honor to be able to witness that much talent and hard work in one room. Something else that surprised me: the dancing. Since I’d only listened to the soundtrack, it was hard for me to picture the ensemble and the dance numbers. The choreography was astounding. Some numbers were more like interpretive dance, but over the course of the show, it ranged from modern, to hip hop, to ballet, and classic Broadway jazz. There were so many pieces that went into place so perfectly, and it was by far, my favorite musical experience. I seriously had to hold it together while we were leaving because I was about to start sobbing like a weirdo. I was just so happy.

Best anniversary gift, and trip, ever. <3

Have you been to Chicago? What was your favorite part?

If you could live anywhere, where would you choose?

xoxo

Gina

Shout out to reader friends Julie and Melissa who said hi and chatted for a bit at Nordstrom! I loved getting to meet you. <3

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