#Henry's Cellar Bar

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1939 Pagoda style home in Grosse Ile, Michigan once belonged to Henry Ford & his wife. Probably b/c he was a very rich man, it has security features and secrets. 4bds, 3ba, $989,900.

It has the heavy original front door with a Lotus window. The house does need a lot of work and updating.

This is the main hall. We have the cutest guide for this tour, a little black Scotty dog.

The living room is very large and has a fireplace feature wall. (Are you spotting the Scotty?)

The fireplace holds the first secret: Push in the panel on the mantel and there's a secret compartment- probably for all his money.

The wood paneled library has a large window seat and wall of shelving. The ceilings have interesting shapes, which is a lovely feature.

The library also has secret compartments.

This is the center hall outside the dining room.

The center hall has the stairs that lead to the attic.

The dining room is huge. Guess they had banquets in here for other Detroit automobile moguls.

The kitchen had some updates but it also has mostly original features like the floor, the repainted cabinets, and the green & black tiles.

This is the servant's hall- it's awfully narrow, isn't it?

This large bedroom looks like the primary.

It has a cool large orchid art deco bath.

This is a secondary bedroom.

Another cool retro bath.

Large deck around the house. The home is on the Detroit River.

In the roof of the Pagoda is an "SOS Lamp" to signal the police if there is an intruder. (Nowadays, by the time they see it, assuming that they know what it is, forget it.)

This is the upstairs switch for the SOS light.

And, this is the downstairs switch. (It's such a mess, I'm surprised that it still works.)

These are the basement stairs.

And, that's the door to the boat slip, assuming that you want to swim to it.

Another door in the boat slip opens to the wine cellar/ballroom. That glass block bar looks like it was once beautiful, with the striped awnings and maybe colored lights.

The wine cellar still has some full bottles.

The servant's door is closed off.

And, this is an escape tunnel under the road.

There are 2 acres of property.

[gruesomejack]

"Victory."

Vi grimaced and scrubbed a little harder at the glass in his hand. He had half a mind to turn around and say the bar was closed, but he knew that wouldn't do much of anything at all. That voice was unmistakable. The condescending tone, low and cold-- Vincenzo Scorza. His father had come to visit.

Sitting himself down, Vic watched his son ignore him to wash and rewash the already clean dishes. "You can't ignore me. Turn around."

"I can try." Vi set the glasses on the drying rack and wiped his hands on his apron. Staring at the wall, he frowned deeply and waited for another moment. "Why are you here?" He asked and finally moved himself to look, eyeing his father with skepticism. "I told you, I don't want anything to do with you anymore."

Vincenzo blinked slowly, unamused and unbothered. "Who was that young man you were talking to? You seem... close." Intimate. He'd watched the stranger lean against the bar, the shine in his eyes visible from the table Vic had sat himself at. As much as he wanted to be open to the idea of his son finding company in the arms of another man, he needed Victory to focus on his future. If he was going to come back and take this job, he couldn't settle for some thuggish looking young man covered in car grease.

Brows up, Vi pressed his lips together, and his cheeks warmed. Had he been spying on him? "None of your business. You don't have a say in who I hang out with anymore." He shot back and turned his nose, shaking his head in disbelief. "Can you leave?"

"There's a dinner I'd like you to come to. It's the end of next month." Vincenzo smiled for him, more polite than anything. "It's at Henry's ranch home, and I want you beside me."

"No."

"And if I allowed you to bring a guest?"

Vi peeked back over and folded his arms across his chest. He felt pathetic for considering it, but he wondered if the night out would be something Charlie might enjoy. Food, drinks, stuffy rich people to mock when their backs are turned-- There might even be a wine cellar to drag him off too when it got too boring. "...What's the catch?"

Smile spreading, Vic lifted his chin and shook his head. "No catch. I would like to meet him, though."

A nervous jolt rolled up Vi's back, his brows furrowing. "I don't want you or your dirty hands anywhere near him. Offense intended. I-"

"One lunch date. I won't pursue it any further after that."

Vi frowned and chewed the inside of his cheek. Searching his father, he hesitated for a long moment before pushing out a shaky sigh. "Fine. Only if he's interested." He told him, "I'm not going to force him."

"Of course." Vincenzo pushed himself up again and brushed the wrinkles from his slacks. He started to move to round the bar, stopping only as he watched Victory further trap himself in the corner. Sighing too, he put his palms up and stepped back. "I'll be in touch. Take care."

Silent, he watched the man step back further and turn to leave. Vi didn't move until he was out the front door and completely out of sight. Knees buckling, he leaned against the bar and hid his head in his arms. Hopefully, Charlie would just decline. It'd be safer for both of them.

[cabinscreaking]

Old Town Bar (1892)

45 E 18th Street New York, New York 10003

The saloon that opened in 1892 in the working-class neighborhood of 45 E. 18th Street was, outwardly, not exceptional. The three-story vernacular brick building was unadorned, other than a modest but handsome cornice.

Veimieskie’s did, however, have unusual and attractive features unexpected in a blue-collar saloon. A row of three arched wheel-cut sunburst windows over the entrance replaced the more usual stained glass. Inside, 16 feet above the 55-foot mahogany bar an elaborate and unusual pressed-tin ceiling mimicked the plaster parlor ceilings of residential row houses.

Oil Painting "Old Town Bar" by artist Sharon Florin

Upstairs a dining room served German-style food to both ladies and gentlemen – below the saloon was reserved for masculine patrons. A dumbwaiter hoisted hot food from the kitchen to the dining room, saving waiters the rush up a flight of stairs.

The saloon managed to remain nearly scandal-free; perhaps the most notorious involving a pair of shoelaces in 1905.

On the evening of June 10th of that year, 13-year old Isidor Rosenberg entered the bar to sell shoelaces. One of the patrons, John Kroll, an etcher from Brooklyn, took a pair to examine them then did not bother to return them to the boy. Isidor left the bar, sat on the curb outside and started crying.

Before long a sympathetic crowd had gathered, among them 25-year old W. J. Buckly who, pretending to be a police officer, attempted to drag Kroll away until two actual policemen, Patrolmen Lynch and Rogers, ran up. Buckly quickly hid in the cellar of the saloon where, after a time, the policemen found him “with the aid of lighted matches.”

According to The New York Times, all three were arrested – Kroll on the charge of “larceny of a pair of shoe laces,” young Isidor was charged with selling shoe laces without a license and sent to the Gerry Society (The New York Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children), and Buckly was arrested for impersonating an officer. As indoor plumbing was improved the men’s restroom was outfitted with immense porcelain urinals in 1910. The deep fixtures were designed and patented by Winfield E. Hinsdale in 1901 to suppress splashing.

With 1920 came Prohibition. In New York the threat of Prohibition was, for saloon keepers, mostly about whom they knew (and paid). The bar became Craig’s Restaurant and, essentially, continued business as usual. Al E. Smith – the dominate Democratic force in New York – stopped in regularly.

With the repeal of Prohibition came another name change, this time to The Old Town Bar. By the middle of the century it was owned by Henry Lohden who, other than hanging a neon sign out front, carefully retained the 19th Century atmosphere. Reportedly the attractive ceiling was last painted in 1952 while the bar was closed for election day. Since then layers of history have been permitted to accumulate.

In the 1970s former newspaper worker Larry Meagher became manager of Old Town and today it is managed by his two sons. Little has changed inside. The multi-colored mosaic floor comprised of thousands of octagonal tiles remains, as do the beveled plate glass mirrors behind the bar. The original gas lamps, now electrified, still glow and the dumbwaiter, now the oldest in the city, is still in use. And those giant porcelain urinals are still in place.

The bar was used for the title scene of the David Letterman Show opened each night during the 1980s and appeared in movies such as “The Devil’s Own,” “Last Days of Disco,” “Bullets Over Broadway” and “State of Grace;” and on television was used in “Sex and the City” and in “Mad About You” provided the exterior of Riff’s Bar.

Madonna sang down the length of the bar in her Bad Girl music video.

Among the handful of authentic, unaltered 19th Century saloons left in Manhattan, The Old Town Bar ranks as one of the best.

[bamya-c]

Cowboy Builder @ Henry's Cellar Bar

Featuring Daphne

Jan 2020

[spiritsoffrance]

The Green Fairy: A History of Absinthe

When we talk about Spirits, perhaps the most controversial is the one that is slightly green in colour and believed to drive a person from being a silly drunk to a heinous murderer. But those are just stories or myths that often encircle the green fairy, Absinthe.  

Throughout history, this drink is blamed for driving a man crazy, causing hallucinations and convulsions. Still, in spite of being so potent, this drink can be the centrepiece of your cellar. 

So let's time travel to 18th Century Europe and dive deeper into this dangerously addictive yet delicious drink, Absinthe. 

What is Absinthe? Find out from the experts!

Originating in the 18th in Switzerland, the etymology of Absinthe can be traced back to the Latin word “absinthium” which in turn originated from the Greek word “apsínthion” meaning “wormwood”. Now, the precise origin of Absinthe is unclear to date. Some say that this drink was produced commercially back in 1797 by a man named Henry- Louis Pernod.

Art is inspired by philosophy and philosophy originates from events that represent a culture.

Having an alcohol content of around 68%, the history of Absinthe is intertwined with the literature, art, and culture of Europe. Famous writers, artists, and bohemians of the long-established European and American society were well known for consuming Absinthe. 

Earnest Hemingway, James Joyce, Pablo Picasso, Vincent van Gogh, Oscar Wilde, Edgar Allen Poe, and even the famous occultist Aleister Crowley was among the notable Absinthe drinkers of that time. 

So is Absinthe truly the devil’s poison as most say or it is just a catalyst that enhances the chemical activities in the brain? The mystery remains unclear today!

What is Absinthe made from?

La fée verte or Absinthe is a flavoured spirit, green in colour, and primarily made from the flowers and leaves of grand wormwood or Artemisia absinthium. Culinary herbs like hyssop, Florence fennel, green anise, angelica root, peppermint, aniseed, coriander, and liquorice give this drink its highly aromatic and enticing smell. 

The production of Absinthe became popular in the 1840s and was initially given to the French troop as a preventive measure against malaria. Slowly it made its way to the bars, and cafés and was appreciated by men of all classes. 

Absinthe’s History:

The green elixir, although known to inspire most, soon became the reason for violent crimes and a number of social disorders. 

Most people believed that Absinthe made a man lose his marbles. It had the power to evoke the untamed beast of a man, immolate a woman, disintegrate a family, and wipe out the future of an entire country!

Although most of these accusations were a mere fabrication of claims and defamation that were orchestrated by the wine industry, nevertheless the future of Absinthe was at stake, and it was banned in Switzerland in 1908.

Ironically, Switzerland is the very place Absinthe originated before enchanting the rest of the world.

The modern revival of Absinthe was in the year 2000, in France where they came up with La Fée Absinthe, which was the first distilled and bottled Absinthe since the ban in 1914. Slowly and steadily, it spread among people and now it's available in most places throughout the globe.

Production of Absinthe:

It is baffling to know that although the production of spirits like Whisky, Brandy, Gin, or Vodka has a set of regulations, most countries still don’t have the legal definition for the production of Absinthe. Hence it gives the producers the liberty to name it Absinthe or Absinth, which does not coincide with the generalised definition or the quality of this spirit. 

Some produce distilled absinthe which is similar to premium quality gin with a much more complex texture. Distilled Absinthe is kept in Alembic stills with an alcohol volume of 72%. This is later reduced and bottled clear as Blanche or la Bleue. At times it is mixed with artificial color to create Verte (Green).

How to drink Absinthe?

Absinthe is perhaps considered to be the only spirit that nudges the curiosity of people in every corner of the world, starting from veterans to the uninitiated. The most common question that arises in the mind is, “Can I have Absinthe straight?”

 You certainly can! Just be aware, for those who aren’t experienced in highly alcoholic drinks (such as Navy strength Gin or Rum), you may burn your taste buds! 

Absinthe has no added sugar and a high percentage of alcohol, which makes it a high-proof spirit. 

Hence it is always suggested to dilute it to make it more palatable. Take a glass and pour one ounce or half an ounce of Absinthe in it. Keep a slotted spoon over the glass and keep a sugar cube. Now slowly drop four to five ounces of water into the sugar cube to dissolve it. Now when the colour becomes cloudy white take a sip and enjoy! 

You can also have classic Absinthe cocktails as it is a more approachable way to have this drink. There is “The Monkey Gland”, “The Morning Glory Fizz”, and “The Chrysanthemum” which are famous Absinthe cocktails. Make sure you ask your bartender for the recipe the next time you decide to have one of these!  

Absinthe is the perfect nightcap. Having a high alcohol content, it is a bit too strong to be consumed as a pre-dinner beverage or even while having a meal. Hence enjoy it as an after-dinner beverage.

Characteristic of Absinthe

For those who haven’t had even a sip of Absinthe, they might wonder, “ what does Absinthe taste like? How does it smell? What does it look like?

Well, we can only get an idea of the same by reading or scrolling through the uncountable pages of Google. But the best way to know is by having a glass of absinthe.

However, the colour of real Absinthe is slightly greenish. This green colour comes from the chlorophyll of the herbs - wormwood, hyssop, and melissa from which it is extracted during the second maceration process. On adding water, it becomes cloudy also known as louche, due to the presence of nonsoluble components like fennel and star anise.

The taste of Absinthe is similar to black liquorice and has a sweet and woody fragrance.

Shop Absinthe from Spirits of France

If you also want to indulge yourself in the layers of this enticing drink, do visit Spirits of France. Our range constitutes an array of Absinthe that is sure to make you a creative soul!

Check out our premium collection at  https://spiritsoffrance.com.au/ for detailed information!

[monolithm007]

Best Places in Calgary for a Date

Let’s face it. 

Finding a new spot to take your date to places can be difficult and time consuming. Maybe you’re new here or you’re just simply overwhelmed by all the options. We really do live in an up and coming city that has so much to offer (but seriously, thank goodness). Our team is big on supporting local, which is why we have created a list of our favourite places for dinner, activities and speakeasy bars in and around YYC. Visit us here: "Monolith Marketing".

Check out our recommendations and wow your date with places on your next outing! 

Dinner

A foodie or not, impress your date with places and an unforgettable dining experience. These restaurants not only offer a tasty menu, but also include their own unique vibes. 

Ten Foot Henry

What to expect: a fresh vegetable focused menu, shareable plates, rustic vibes 

Location: 1209 1 St SW, Calgary, AB

Major Tom

What to expect: elevated menu, 40th floor views of downtown

Location: 700 2 St SW #4000, Calgary, AB

Fortuna’s Row

What to expect: contemporary Latin American dishes, shareable plates, dark & relaxing vibes

Location: 421 Riverfront Ave, Calgary, AB

River Cafe

What to expect: locally sourced protein & seafood entres, beautiful location

Location: 25 Prince’s Island Park, Calgary, AB 

Orchard 

What to expect: Asian & Mediterranean dishes, beautiful space with chandeliers & greenery

Location: 620 10 Ave SW #134, Calgary, AB

Teatro 

What to expect: Mediterranean dishes, award winning wine cellar, elegant space 

Location: 200 8 Ave SE, Calgary, AB

Porch

What to expect: stylish shareable cuisine, laid back summer porch vibes, intimate atomsphere

Location: 730 17 Ave SW, Calgary, AB 

Lulu Bar 

What to expect: asain-fusion cuisine, refreshing atmosphere, reminiscent vacation vibes 

Location: 510 17 Ave SW, Calgary, AB

Model Milk 

What to expect: refined comfort food, old exposed brick walls, highly energetic setting

Location: 308 17 Ave SW, Calgary, AB

Eight

What to expect: innovative regional dishes, full engagement with chef during dining experience

Location: 631 Confluence Way SE, Calgary, AB

D.O.P

What to expect: Italian cuisine, intimate atmosphere Location: 1005A 1 St SW, Calgary, AB 

OLEA

What to expect: mediterranean and western European focused menu, bright-modern vibe 

Location: 1520 14 St SW, Calgary, AB

Fire & Flora

What to expect: Canadian cuisine, vegetable forward menu, local & seasonal ingredients

Location: 227 11 Ave SW, Calgary, AB

Luca Restaurant 

What to expect: Italian fare dishes, stylish dining environment 

Location: 524 10 Ave SW, Calgary, AB

Activities 

These are for the ones who seek entertainment. With plenty to choose from, you can’t go wrong with one of these fun activities. 

Watch the Calgary Flames at the Saddledome

Location: 555 Saddledome Rise SE, Calgary, AB

Check out a live blues performance at Blue’s Can

Location: 1429 9 Ave SE, Calgary, AB 

Take a ceramic class at Workshop Studio

Location: 2501 Alyth Rd SE, Calgary, AB 

Enjoy live jazz music at Alvin’s Jazz House

Location: 176 Mahogany Centre SE, Calgary, AB 

Get competitive with a game of bowling at National on 10th 

Location: 341 10 Ave SW, Calgary, AB  

Take a cooking class at The Cookbook Co. Cooks 

Location: 722 11 Ave SW, Calgary, AB 

Practice your swing at Launchpad Golf 

Location: 31 Heritage Pointe Dr, Heritage Pointe, AB

Pack a picnic and head to Prince Island’s Park 

Location: 698 Eau Claire Ave SW, Calgary, AB 

Kick back and watch a film at Plaza Theatre 

Location: 1133 Kensington Rd NW, Calgary, AB 

Get your game on at the Rec Room

Location: 1180-901 64 Ave NE, Calgary, AB 

Share some laughs at The Laugh Shop

Location: 5940 Blackfoot Trail SE, Calgary, AB 

Cocktail Bars

Maybe your date is more interested in sipping delicious cocktails somewhere. Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered for that as well. With most of these being on the DL, we can guarantee that your date will be very impressed with one of these spots.

Prickett Richard 

Vibe: dark & intimate speakeasy 

Location: 638 17 Ave SW #1, Calgary, AB

Paper Lantern 

Vibe: underground tropical & Vietnamese spot Location: 115 2 Ave SE Basement, Calgary, AB

Betty Lou’s Library 

Vibe: American 1920’s Prohibition era with Paris’ Lost Generation speakeasy in old library

Location: The Devenish Building, 908 17 Avenue Southwest, Calgary, AB

Shelter 

Vibe: private speakeasy for a weary urban traveler looking to escape the outside world

Location: 1210 1 St SW, Calgary, AB

Bar Annabelle 

Vibe: vintage & warm speakeasy 

Location: 109a, 8 Ave SW, Calgary, AB

Frenchie Wine Bar 

Vibe: French-focused menu, intimate hideaway 

Location: 616 17 Ave SW, Calgary, AB (through Una Takeaway) 

Ajito 

Vibe: luxurious speakeasy with Japanese food & drinks 

Location: 7212 Macleod Trail SE #110, Calgary, AB

[deadend-club]

[betamax-new-wave-disco]

[gianttankeh]

Dora Doll & Ali Robertson at ‘Midwinter Misery Minifest’, Henry’s Cellar Bar, Edinburgh: 18/1/19.

You can find out more about this Sonically Depicting cavalcade of weirdo sound here.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

You know how I love before & after pics. Well, look at this, remember when I posted the Henry Ford pagoda house in Grosse Ile, Michigan? It was so depressing, outdated and creepy? Shellydanger just submitted it and I noticed that it had a redo. Basically, they repainted, lightened and cleared out the rooms. It was also $989,900 and now it's been lowered to $799,999. Check it out, now.

The dingy hallway before.

The hallway now- much brighter light and they removed the curtains. (Worn carpet still remains, thought.)

The living room before.

And, the new, brighter living room. (But, that carpet.)

The very dark library before.

And, the lighter brighter library now.

The dining room before.

The dining room now. New paint and a new floor.

The kitchen had great retro cabinetry and tiles.

Glad they didn't change the retro look, but it still looks like a very commercial kitchen.

The primary bedroom was dark.

They emptied it out and lightened it up.

How did the current owners keep it so dark?

Look at how different the color of the purple bath looks now.

A secondary bedroom.

Pared down and brightened.

The other lovely retro bath.

Basically it just looks like they just turned on all the lights.

The basement stairs and floor got some new paint.

They fixed up this room, but it doesn't look like they did anything with the bar.

The boat slip looks better straightened up and letting the light in.

This isn't shown on the real estate ads, but it was on the house's Facebook page- the lower level wine cellar got spectacular uplighting.

Redoing the exterior.

The exterior is really looking good.

Check out the groovy new lighting. Too see the Before realty ad on the blog, use the tag Henry Ford house before.

[countrymusiclover]

27 - He's Not Dead

Part 28

His Golden Princess

@fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @alanaangie24

The sound of beeping wakes me up. Blinking my eyes opened a couple times I get met with a bright light coming from the window in my hospital room. Turning over my left hand there's an Iv and some things attached to my chest. The door to my room opened and I recognized Dr. Whale but I don't understand how I am here. The last thing I remember was watching my sister and Henry cross the town line. After that all I remember is a fuss. Whale picked up a chart confusion written on his face just like me. "Astrid, why exactly are you here. The last time I remember you being in the hospital was-"

"When I ate the apple turnover. Yeah I don't understand it either." Tossing the covers aside I climbed out of the bed against his judgment. Seeing some clothes at the foot of the bed I raised my hand creating a cloud gold wearing the now light green jacket, white tea shirt. Dark blue jeans with my hair completely loose. Exiting the hospital I wrap my arms around myself heading for the woods. The leaves crunched underneath my boots. Pausing in my step I spun around hearing an arrow being fired. Wrapping my hand around it I gasped seeing a figure appears from behind a tree carrying a crossbow in his hands.

The stranger walks up lowering his weapon while I held the arrow in my hands. He has bright blue eyes and brown hair. At first glance I could see he was Robin Hood. "Apologies princess. I thought you were an intruder." He explained stopping a few steps in front of me.

"It's alright. No harm done. May I ask how do you know I was - uh am a princess?" I questioned handing him the arrow back. He clipped it back onto his crossbow extending his freehand that I shake with a small smile. "Astrid, Astrid Swan."

He squeezes my hand staring down at something on my left hand in confusion. "Robin of Locksley. And I called you a princess my lady because I've heard rumors that your parents are well..Snow White and Prince Charming." He lifted my left hand where I noticed what reflected in the sunlight that was coming through the trees. "Those are my initials on this piece of jewelry. Except I don't recall giving it to you."

Removing the ring from my left ring finger I was more confused then when I woke up in the hospital. It doesn't make sense how we ended back in Storybrooke. The ring is silver with an RH engraved on the back of it. Twisting it in between my fingers I started to hand it back to him. "I'm not sure why I have this. But it must belong to you. So here take it back. My guess is it's in this time of memory I'm missing."

"Ah yes. Everyone seems to be having a missing year. As for the ring you keep it." Robin closed my hand around the ring still in the palm of my hand. "If I gave it to you I assume there's a good reason."

I give him a smile feeling my phone going off in my pocket. Answering the call I gasped in joy recognizing my sister's voice on the other side. "Astrid, there's something you need to know. Somehow Gold - uh Rumple is alive. It's a long story but Hook found me and helped me remember. Dad and I found an old cellar with sraw spun into gold on the floor." She hangs up texting me the address.

Turning towards the theif he raised a brow picking up his crossbow from the ground. "I'm guessing there's news." Nodding my head I waved bye quickly transporting to my sister and father waiting outside a cellar.

"I wish we could hug right now but I have to see it for myself Emma. Somehow in my heart I knew he wasn't dead." I explained eyeing my sister before creating a sword with my magic walking down the stairs. There's a big cage big enough to hold a person. Someone lifted their head causing my heart to warm at the sight of his brown eyes. "Rumple...is it really you?" Tears welling in my eye I rushed forward gripping the bars of his cell in my small hands.

Rumple gasped turning around in his chair with a spinning wheel sitting inside his large cell. "Astrid...it's you. You...you have to leave. You have no idea what this witch will make me do to you. She can’t see you with me." I could hear the concern in his tone but it didn't matter.

"The wicked witch. Like the one from Oz..." Shaking my head I waved my hands over the lock undoing it and opening the door extending my right hand for him to take. "I don't care what some women wearing a pointy hat says. I know you, Rumple. I’m not afraid. You would never hurt me."

Rumple shakes his head no until I give him puppy dog eyes being able to feel his desire to come with me is stronger than his fear. He gets to his feet slowly intertwining his hand with mine. He rests his forehead against mine making me smile. "I love you remember that princess....now run. Run go." He raised his tone to a warning before someone laughed sitting in the corner.

"Don’t mind me. Carry on. I was just enjoying the show." The woman smiled having green eyes and curly orange hair. She holds the dagger in her left hand.

Drawing my sword I attempted to push Rumple behind me with my other arm. Aiming the tip towards her I gripped the handle of my weapon. I don't recognize her but she's holding the one thing that can control my boyfriend. "Let him go witch. Nobody in this town knows who you are. Why on earth do you need him. Fight me instead. Just let him go. I know that he's strong enough to fight against you. That we are strong enough!" I intertwined my freehand with Rumple's not backing down.

"You're soulmates bond is no match for this dagger. I suggest you run on back to mommy Charming." The woman smirked moving the dagger forward where Rumple suddenly shoves me against the stairs causing me to drop my sword. I grunted seeing his hands bawled into fists at his sides where for once since I met him I run away in fear.

Getting up the stairs my sister keeps her gun raised when i collapse into my father's sobbing. "He's alive...but she's here. She knows about our bomd dad." He wrapped his arms around my waist. Running one hand through my hair hearing someone coming up the stairs quickly.

"Zelena sends a message. She will face Regina and no one interferes. Next time you try to stop her I will kill you!" Rumple points his index finger towards the three of us. I bury my face into my father's chest wishing this wasn't how I found out the man I loved was truly still alive.

Yay! I managed to get another chapter out in my first week of being back in college.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[chibi-tsukiko]

A Fool's Errand

A Henry & Matthew ficlet for @zullyluly who requested the prompt "Come home"

I know it was under "general prompts", and is technically dialogue, but it became a bit more on the angsty side ... I hope you like it! 🙈

Tag list : @legendofconsullightwood @themostawesomehuman @littleturtle95 @tobeornottobetequila @morgnstern @zfoxdraws @bookworm-jedi @magnus-the-maqnificent @banesbitch @fair-but-wilde-child @beclynn-herondale @khaleesiofalicante @my-archerboy @youngreckless @thomaslightwood @runecarstairs @high-warlock-of-brooklyn @itsdaughterofthemoon

When Matthew opens the cellar door, he’s hit with a billow of smoke and the sound of coughing. He stumbles back, covering his mouth, and does his best to waft away the putrid clouds.

“LOTTIE!!!” a voice bellows from below. “WOULD YOU GRAB THE WITCHLIGHT?”

Matthew rolls his eyes and makes his way down the stairs. The smoke is still thick and permeates throughout the lab. Matthew squints his eyes to see through the smog and covers his mouth with a handkerchief. He can still hear his father coughing as he fumbles his way around the lab, searching for the window. Instead, his thigh meets the corner of a table.

“Damn!” he curses.

“Lottie?” his father calls out from somewhere “is that you?” There’s a small thud followed by shuffling noises. “Blast,” Henry grumbles, “It’s on the table somewhere.”

Matthew’s hand finds the wall of the cellar, the stone cool to the touch. Standing on his tiptoes, he reaches up and finds the latch to the window, opening it.

As the smoke clears, Matthew can see the glow of the witchlight from across the room. He watches his Father waft the remaining rings of smoke from around his head. He blinks rapidly, getting his bearings.

“Oh.” Henry gasps “Matthew. When did you get here?”

“Not long ago.” Matthew shrugs, smoothing out the wrinkles in his vest.

Silence hangs between them. Tension left unresolved from the last time they’d spoken.

“So,” Henry clears his throat. “You, are you settling in, then?”

“Yes.”

“Is it very far from here? The flat?”

Far enough, Matthew thinks. “I just came to grab a few books I’d forgotten, then I’ll be on my way.”

Hurt flickers past Henry’s eyes, and Matthew has to turn away. “What were you working on?” He asks, moving around to the other side of the table.

“Ah!” Henry exclaims, a new light in his voice. “well I have been trying to test a new theory of mine using this formula…”

As Henry dives into his dissertation, Matthew falls into old habits. His father’s words drowning out as he watches the light reflect off the surface of his rings. The tiny rainbow prisms providing more comfort and entertainment than the scientific jargon. He could use a drink.

“That’s what’s got me cross. What do you think?”

Matthew blinks, startled, coming back to himself. He looks up at his Father, “Uh” he looks down at the paper in front of him. The letters and symbols merge on the page. “Whatever you think is best,” he says. “You know I’ve never taken much to tinkering. Don’t have the mind for it. Never was as smart as you.”

“Matthew…” Henry starts.

“I can ask Christopher to stop by.” Matthew interrupts, turning towards the stairs “He’s helped you before. I’m sure the two of you can make sense of it.”

“Where are you off to?”

“I’m meeting Jamie.”

“Where?”

“By the hat shop.”

“Which hat shop?

“The one on the corner.”

“The corner of—

“I’m not going to a bar!” Matthew snaps.

The side of Henry’s face twitches, and there’s a look in his eye. But Matthew can’t tell what it is. Pity? Guilt? It makes Matthew’s skin crawl. He just wants to leave.

“I should go,” he mutters, heading for the stairs. “Jamie will be waiting.”

“Matthew, wait.”

Matthew stops just shy of the bottom step and waits.

Seconds pass. Bile churns in Matthew’s stomach. He doesn’t dare turn around, afraid of the wave of emotion behind him. It’s too much. He should have just asked Christopher to pick up the books the next time he was here.

Finally, Henry speaks, his voice soft and sad. “Take care of yourself.”

Matthew feels sick. “Your goggles are in the desk draw. They’ll help… with the smoke.” He barely hears his Father’s thank you before he’s up the stairs, abandoning the books he’d come for, and heading straight for the carriage.

Why had he’d come? What was he hoping for, using a lousy excuse of forgotten books? He grips the flask in his jacket pocket, leaning his head against the window frame. “You’re a fool, Matthew,” he chuckles to himself as the carriage rides past the gate. As if his Father would ever ask his waste-of-a-son to come home.

[thepointoftheneedle]

Fall-ing

So, I accidentally wrote a drabble when I wasn't paying attention. I apologise to all you autumn lovers out there, it's not my thing and it's inescapable! Anyway I wrote this at lunchtime to get it out of my system! I thought it might distract from...well...you know.

She was running late for her nine thirty lecture. There wasn’t time to wait in line behind the flurry of girls ordering their pumpkin spice lattes so she’d have to forgo her iced tea today. She scoffed quietly at all those fall aesthetic girls, wearing knitted scarves and gloves even though the weather was still perfectly temperate. Every year they took the first tumbling leaf as their cue to light their cinnamon apple scented candles, pull on chunky knits and start squealing about things being ‘cosy.’ It was decidedly not her vibe.

“Oh screw you,” Betty muttered under her breath as a girl with amber curls escaping her rust coloured beret threw an armful of leaves in the air, staring at them as they fell, with a degree of enchanted wonderment that suggested that gravity was an unfamiliar concept to her. As Betty strode by, the girl yelled, “God, way to ruin the shot. Thanks a lot,” and Betty realised that her boyfriend had been capturing the moment on a phone as she had walked between them. The pink case suggested it was her phone so Betty sang a few bars of “White Woman’s Instagram” and kept right on walking. She heard the girl’s yelp of protest behind her followed by the boyfriend’s rumbling laughter.

She threw herself into a seat at the back of the lecture hall and took out her laptop. The image that appeared when she fired it up was a beach scene, turquoise water, palm trees, in the foreground a fuchsia coloured cocktail with a paper umbrella. She gazed at it and wished she could transport herself through the screen to that eternal summer. She hated the sense of time slipping through her fingers that came every fall, change and decay, wet leaves rotting in stinking piles, rain, every day a little shorter than the one before, every night a little longer, endings and fog and the steamed windows of overheated rooms.

Someone dropped into the seat next to her. She removed her arm from the rest and checked that she wasn’t taking up too much space. Soon there was another laptop next to hers, on the screen she glimpsed a snow scene, pine forests and white capped mountains. She was aware of his leather jacket creaking as he fidgeted, his long legs sticking out into the aisle. She risked a glance at him and blushed when she realised it was the boyfriend. She’d been pretty rude. She steeled herself and made her apology.

“Hey, sorry about before. I think I got out of bed the wrong side. Not a big fan of the season. Could you apologise to your girlfriend for me?” she said, shooting for contrite but not feeling that she quite nailed it.

“Oh, not my girlfriend, just a friend.” He smiled at her and glanced at her screen. “What was it Henry James said? Summer afternoon - the two most beautiful words in the English language.”

“I thought that was cellar door, “ she smiled.

“Hey, if anyone’s going to be quoting Donnie Darko here it ought to be me not you, my sweet summer child,” he laughed. Hot and funny, he was exactly her aesthetic.

“Well I guess you’re happy since winter is clearly coming,” she replied smartly with a wave at his snowy screen, glancing over at him to see if her matching GOT reference had landed. She found herself tumbling into fathomless eyes from which she was powerless to look away, blue green like a summer ocean. The world seemed to retreat as he moved towards her, his eyes flicking down to her lips, but then the lecture hall door slammed and the professor dumped his bag and papers on the front desk with a crash. She dragged her attention to her keyboard even though she could barely process anything that was being said, ignoring the long sigh from the next seat.

The prof was clearly keen to outdo all the pumpkin patch girls. In his russet coloured sweater and his burnt umber corduroy pants he looked like a gingerbread man. “So everyone, welcome to the romantic poets. On this gorgeous late September morning I thought we should begin with Keats, specifically with the Ode to Autumn.”

“Oh for Chrissakes,” she muttered. There was a snort of barely stifled laughter from the next seat.

Somehow she got through the lecture with its oozing cyder presses and rosy hued stubble-plains. Finally at the end of the hour, she prepared herself to leave, with some relief.

“Good note. You don’t want to forget that,” a deep voice murmured beside her and she looked at her screen in confusion.

“Keats, poet, pumpkin spiced bullshit,” was all she had written.

He grinned. “Look I know it’s not really our thing but do you wanna go crunch through some leaves and collect pinecones? See if we’re missing out on anything?”

Somehow, when he put it like that, it actually sounded like a lot of fun. She nodded and found that she had a smile on her face as wide as a jack o’ lantern.

[deadend-club]

[betamax-new-wave-disco]

[novelconcepts]

24 and 10, just because I'm curious how these two could possibly be combined

confusing a handshake for a fist bump and lifting someone up out of excitement

She hasn’t seen Jamie in two years. Hard to believe that. Hard to imagine. Jamie was such a fixture of her life at Bly, such a steady lantern in the dark for all those months--late-night conversations, endless hands of cards dealt, what felt like half the Wingrave wine cellar drained dry between them--that Dani genuinely forgot what it was to not have Jamie in her world. Jamie, who had been there for a single summer, feeling like the sanest measure of her entire life.

And then Dani had moved on. Hadn’t had a choice. The job was for the summer, and Wingrave had decided to try his hand at fatherhood, of a kind. There was no place for an au pair any longer. And there were other roads, Dani sensed, calling her name.

She’d said goodbye, and it had hurt. Hannah, holding her close. Owen, sniffling back tears without apology. The kids, clutching her around the legs. 

Jamie, extending a hand. 

Jamie, who had so quickly become her best friend in all the world, extending a hand. 

She’d bumped it stupidly, her fingers curled into a fist to keep from properly touching Jamie’s skin. It hadn’t been intentional, exactly, though some part of her--red-faced and replaying the moment on a loop in the cab--thinks it might have been safer to lean into the mistake. If she’d taken Jamie’s hand, given it a firm shake, she’s not sure what would have followed. Not sure she would have been able to keep her balance, with her thumb braced along the backs of Jamie’s knuckles, with Jamie’s palm smooth against her own. 

Better to look stupid, she decided, in the long run. Anyway, their time together had lasted all of three months. Seasons come, seasons go, and Jamie would forget her soon enough. Surely. 

It’s been two years. Two years, and Henry Wingrave--cleverer than he’d looked, sneaking booze into his teacup at an awkward interview--had somehow found her address. The letter was neatly printed, an invitation: Miles’ thirteenth birthday, back at the manor. He hadn’t asked for much. They all missed her.

They all. 

She tells herself not to think about it on the flight over. Tells herself not to pick it apart, calling a cab. Tells herself, remembering with a stutter of mortification how her loose fist had jabbed Jamie’s outstretched fingers, they means very little. A kindness, she suspects. A polite phrasing. We all miss you, Miss Clayton, very much. 

Do you? she wonders, wringing her hands, gazing out at the once-familiar landscape. Do you all miss me? All of you?

As if one doesn’t matter just a little more than the rest.

As if she hasn’t been dreaming of one member of that little family more than she’s comfortable with. 

She hasn’t seen Jamie in two years, and she’s almost terrified to find out what might have happened to their too-easy, too-warm friendship in her absence. Jamie had not been an easy wall to crack open in the first place. She’d been tough and wiry at the start, with wary eyes and a short temper. Kind, yes, and easier to talk to than she’d had any right--but difficult, all the same. It had taken weeks for Dani to coax her into genuine conversation. A month before she’d believed Jamie truly did brighten, to see her coming through the door. 

Two years. How tall could those walls have grown by now? How heavy might the door barring her from Jamie’s life be, with all those months of silence stretched between them?

Why didn’t you write? she imagines Jamie saying, her mouth curled in a grim smile. Didn’t even try, did you?

Not true, though Dani can’t fathom telling her so. Dani did try. Over and over, not just for those first few months, but for two years. Two years trying to put it all down on paper. Two years trying to explain how Jamie--her eyes gleaming in the firelight, her smile sweet, her hand brushing Dani’s without thought--had been the only person on her mind, no matter what she tried to do about it. 

Two years trying to find the words for a letter to explain what she knows, and what she can’t believe, and what she can’t get away from: that it had taken only a single season, to fall in love. That it had taken only a single season to find someone she honestly can’t imagine life without. 

Jamie wouldn’t understand. 

Two years. And now she’s here, pulling up the winding drive to that big old house she’d called home for almost no time at all. She’s here, stepping out of the cab, feeling no older than the au pair who had run from grief and wound up finding a short-lived, powerful purpose. 

They’re waiting for her, she realizes--lined up outside the house like Flora’s dolls. Hannah, as beautiful as she remembers, with a brand new ring on her third finger. Owen, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, his apron dusted with flour. Flora, almost willowy with newfound height, launching at her, and Miles, broader in the shoulders, brighter in the eyes, reaching to kiss her hand. 

Henry, too, looks pleased to see her. He looks healthy, his skin no longer the sallow of a man hidden away from the world. He smiles, and he presses her into a loose embrace, and she thinks it was worth going away, if this little family was able to bloom in her absence. 

They’re all here. They’re all wonderful.

Except.

She doesn’t ask where Jamie is. Tries her damnedest not to let them see the crestfallen expression she turns inward, the plummet of her heart. Jamie isn’t here. Jamie has, perhaps, moved on, too--found a new job, a new life, elsewhere. 

Jamie is gone, and no matter how wonderful the rest of them are--no matter how glad to see them she is--this will never feel quite right. 

“You’re just in time,” Hannah is saying. “Supper’s about ready, we’re just going to set the table. If you wouldn’t mind doing one thing?”

Pasting a smile onto her face, Dani nods. “Anything. Point the way.”

“You remember the greenhouse, I assume?”

A flutter, kicking up in her chest, hard enough to rattle her voice when she says, guardedly, “Of course.”

“Our last party is working late,” Hannah says, sounding slightly grumpy. “Again. Honestly, you’d think she’s growing the key to immortality out there, with the hours she’s been keeping.”

“She--” Dani swallows. Keep it simple. Keep it normal. It’s been two years. “She’s still...?”

“Grouchy?” Owen suggests. “Stealing my best biscuits?”

“Here,” Dani breathes. He looks perplexed, his head inclined in affirmation.

“Of course. Couldn’t pry her from those roses, the stubborn woman.”

They say it like it’s obvious, like the story was only ever going to play out this way--but even as she’s striding across the grounds at a brisk pace, Dani isn’t sure she believes it. Could it be a prank? An elaborate way to get back at her for leaving? Maybe she’ll reach the greenhouse, place her hand on the door, and find the place gaping open with nothing but ghosts for company--

Jamie’s back is to her, the gray of her coveralls stamped with dirt. Her hair is loose, her head bobbing, and Dani--her steps cautious as she confirms, yes, this is the same woman who has been turning up in her dreams for months--realizes she’s wearing a pair of headphones. Her hands are steady, though her boot taps out a rhythm, and when Dani gets close enough, she picks up the hum of Jamie singing under her breath.

Jamie, no different than she recalls. Jamie, exactly the same, bopping along to the Walkman poking out of her pocket. 

Jamie, who turns and leaps with surprise, jerking the headphones down around her neck. 

“Christ,” she breathes. “Scared the living shite out of me.”

“Sorry.” She isn’t, though. Somehow. Maybe because Jamie’s bewildered expression is already giving way to a huge smile. Maybe because Dani suddenly can’t breathe, overwhelmed by the memories of this very room--cards and conversation, wine and laughter. Jamie’s hand, brushing her own. Jamie’s eyes, searching her face. 

Jamie, never quite closing the gap. Never quite daring. 

“You weren’t meant to be here until six,” Jamie is saying now, brushing the hair from her eyes. Dani glances at her watch.

“It’s six-thirty-nine.”

“Fuck,” Jamie mutters. “Lost track of--was supposed to help in the--never mind.” 

She’s staring at Dani like she can’t quite believe her own eyes, her smile so enormous, Dani can’t imagine how she’d ever thought Jamie could be gone. Jamie, who is such a fixture. Jamie, who is so reliable, so wonderfully here. 

“Can I hug you?” she asks, and Jamie all but charges toward her. It’s a clumsy embrace, arms tangling around shoulders, Jamie’s hips bumping her own. Jamie, who hugs her so hard, leaning back, Dani’s feet actually leave the ground.

“Missed you,” she breathes into Dani’s ear. “Wanted to write. Wanted to--didn’t know what I’d fuckin’ say.”

Dani buries her face in Jamie’s neck, inhaling the long-missed combination of soil and sweat, that undercurrent of mint that follows every cigarette. It’s not a polished, pretty scent; it reminds her of summer afternoons, of hard work, of Jamie’s smile flashing over a glass of water. 

It reminds her of the heat in her fingertips, the urge to catch Jamie by the sleeve and pull her close, the reflexive lean of her body into Jamie’s on the couch as they both teetered toward dozing off. 

“We’re supposed to be at dinner,” she says, relishing the slide of Jamie’s skin against her own. “We’re late.”

“M’always late, these days,” Jamie replies. “Think it’s worth it this time.”

“Can we--” Dani swallows. “Not now, I know we’re supposed to--for Miles. But after? Tonight? Can we talk?”

I can’t walk away again, she thinks. I can’t go another two years without this. I can’t put it in a letter, but I can’t let it go, either. Not without knowing.

Jamie can’t read her mind, she’s sure--and yet, Jamie’s hand cupping her cheek, Jamie’s thumb pulling gently across her skin, seems to find everything in the silence. Jamie nods once, letting her hand fall away. 

“Think I’d like that very much, yeah.”

It takes every ounce of self-control, not to hold her hand all the way back to the house.