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wishbonemotel · 1 year

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Muse Aesthetics: Horror Edition

Thank you for the tag @bokatan ! Gonna put this over here instead of on the Fallout blog because the vibes fit my OC configs over here better. Going with Nadia, Connor, and Cres for this one

No pressure tags: @krokaxe @bluepriestess @thespiral and anyone who wants to say I tagged them

Nadia

GOTHIC HORROR.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. spiders. books.

CLASSIC HORROR.

black & white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. alcohol in glass decanters. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. dark alleys. empty streets. driving at night. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. paranoia. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the american south. the american northeast. england. analog cameras.

SLASHERS.

bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. suburbia. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. household objects turned into improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. character masks. scrunchies. queerness. wild curls. morbid humor. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

PARANORMAL HORROR.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. mausoleums. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at something you can’t see. black ooze. old photographs. faces you can swear you’ve seen before but can’t for the life of you figure out where. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls. jump scares.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND HORROR.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw-marks. bite-marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. abandoned houses. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. the american east coast. hiking / backpacking.

THRILLERS.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. asylums. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms with no one inside them. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. suspicion. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots.

Connor

GOTHIC HORROR.

CLASSIC HORROR.

SLASHERS.

PARANORMAL HORROR.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND HORROR.

THRILLERS.

Cres

GOTHIC HORROR.

CLASSIC HORROR.

SLASHERS.

PARANORMAL HORROR.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND HORROR.

THRILLERS.

#[smacks nadia on the ass like a car salesman] this bad boy can fit so many horror aesthetics in it #nadia tag #connor tag #cres tag #oc posting

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upontherisers · 2 years

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oc introduction: meet ‘em in the skies

hey y’all! this is a semi-formal introduction post to the women of meet ‘em in the skies, my Band of Brothers universe. thanks to @mercurygray and @shoshiwrites for giving me some guidance on how to structure this. my OCs are presented in alphabetical order by first name because that’s how my google doc sorted them. (there are also a lot of them so here’s a read more!)

Anita Kennedy Matthews, 18; from Harvey, IL

Youngest of seven girls, doesn’t often get the chance to be the first in her family to do something. Wants to do more with her life than sit around and wait to get married, so she volunteers for the paratroopers the day after she graduates high school. Loves to swim and go dancing. Dedicated to her friends, happy, and slightly naive. Has an unexpected reunion during training.

Coretta Bailey, 26; from Oakland, CA

A trailblazer. One of the first Black graduates of Scripps College, one of the first Black nurses accepted into the ANC, and the first Black nurse to report to the ETO for duty. Her parents would prefer her to be home, so she placates them by occasionally writing to a pilot she knew growing up, and he writes back, but she hopes no one thinks she’s serious about starting anything. There’s a war on. She’s beauty and she’s grace, refined, eloquent, poised, and determined to serve the men and women of her country to the best of her ability.

Doris “Trip” Davis Danes, 21; from Snowshoe, WV

Grew up hunting and farming in the woods with her younger sister while her father and older brothers worked in the coal mines. Shoots straight, doesn’t miss. Knows how to stick up for herself when threatened. Had to balance being the eldest daughter but the second youngest child with no mother in the house. The Army came and got her when the integration order went into effect. Only went to school through eighth grade.

Dorothy “Dot” Woods, 19; from Chicago, IL

City girl, loves heights. Grew up in the Bronzeville neighborhood of Chicago’s infamous Black Belt, and loved it. Was a NYA kid and ended up as a switchboard operator at a phone company for a year and some change. Her dad fought in the Great War, her older brother’s 4F, so she decides to join up before they try to draft her. She’s willing to do the dirty work in order to win the war. She’s not happy about having to serve with non-Blacks, but she’ll do it.

Eleanor “Ellie” Gibbs, 20; from Billings, MT

Rancher’s daughter. Loves riding horses, knows how to shoot, pitch a tent, and collect freshwater. Used to go on cattle drives with her older brother and her dad. Went to boarding school on the East Coast but was sent back for disciplinary reasons. Wasn’t allowed to follow her brother to the Pacific, so she bribes some stable hands to sneak her out of the house and she joins the paratroopers. She’s a sweet talker with a smile like warm sunshine.

Estelle Brown, 18; from Austin, TX

Replacement who joined up to kick some ass but ended up a medic. She’s trying to roll with it. Was constantly in school-yard scraps and fights with her nine siblings growing up, so she learned to patch up her own cuts and bruises. Competitive dancer, competitive in everything, that’s why it was the paratroopers or nothing for her. She wants to be with the best. She’s as stubborn as they come, fiery, and vibrant. Chews gum like her life depends on it.

Florence “Flo” Kanaka’ole, 20; from Honolulu, HI

Showgirl turned soldier. Was in her family’s tourism business dancing and making crafts, and picked up gigs at some of the sailor’s nightclubs on Waikiki Beach so she could afford to live with some friends. Wanted to join up after Pearl Harbor to protect her homeland, and Army posters appealed to her. No more makeup, dresses, or fake smiles. Makes everyone learn to say her last name correctly. If they can say Eisenhower, they can say hers. Loves to sing ‘Ōlelo songs and she’ll dance for everyone when she’s drunk. Best friends with Frankie.

Frances “Frankie” Wilson, 19; from Baltimore, MD

Joins up because she’s bored. Her husband is off being a hotshot pilot in the Pacific, and she’s bored in her in-law’s house, getting no action—combat or physical. Quits her seamstress apprenticeship to join the paratroopers because she wants a challenge. Her good looks and perfectly tailored uniforms can be deceiving. Feisty, foul-mouthed, funny, and a shameless flirt. Will tailor your uniforms for money, doesn’t really care how much. Best friends with Flo.

Georgina M. Webster, 20; from Harlem, NY

Comes from an illustrious pedigree, constantly name drops her parents’ acquaintances and some of the people she knew in her youth. Wants everyone to know she’s a Radcliffe student but refuses to explain what that means to anyone who doesn’t already understand. Incredibly smart, whip quick wit, regularly complains about the poor quality of everything that the Army provides. Has no bedside manner. Storms every room she walks into.

Gloria “Glory” Davies, 19; from Memphis, TN

A gentle, sweet Southerner. Kind, soft-spoken, humble, not a mean bone in her body. Oldest of eight, dropped out of high school to help her parents run their restaurant. Wanted to join up when the war started, but was too afraid to leave her family for the unknown. Eventually worked up the courage and met Easy Company at Ft. Bragg. Loves music but is too shy to sing in front of others. Quickly becomes a favorite of Col. Sink’s.

Jeanne “Jeannie” Carmichael, 19; from Fruitland, GA

Comes to the Army with no strings attached. No family, no friends, no address. Just the clothes she has on and the few belongings in her bag. A quick learner, thinks fast on her feet, incredibly strong, good with her hands. Good memory on account that she can’t read. Has yet to learn how to people. Knows nothing of the world outside of her tiny farm town, and has to adjust to people with morals different than hers.

Josephine “Joey” O’Shaughnessy, 25; from Boston, MA

A red-headed fury. Is trying to get some heat off of her back after an incident at OCS by shaping her platoon into the best the Army has ever seen. Doesn’t have the time or patience to care about individual feelings, but always takes the time to help a soldier she sees struggling with a task. Refuses to leave a man behind. Believes in raising the lowest common denominator. Proud graduate of Spelman College. Best friends with Lil.

Lillian “Lil” Sikes Linetti, 22; from Atlantic City, NJ

Howard University Alumni. Got married at 18 and struggled to be a housewife after college. Believes the Army will give her something to do with her education and will give her space from her husband. The middle of five children all serving in the Armed Forces. Has always wanted to travel. Has a knack for maps and navigation. Mom friend, gets worried sometimes. Doesn’t put up with shenanigans. Best friends with Joey.

Matilda “Mattie” James, 17; from Pahokee, FL

Grew up as a migrant worker. Taught herself to sing and read music, soloist at her church, former music teacher. Wants to help her family move to Pittsburgh, where the Black community is growing and her dad’s family lives. Doesn’t tell her family that she’s joining up, or that she’s going with the paratroopers for the extra pay. Wants to fight so that her younger brothers won’t have to. Second youngest company member, and she’ll go after you if you bring it up. Wants to be treated like an adult. Faith is important to her.

Rose Robinson, 27; from San Francisco, CA

Though a New Yorker by birth, she spent her childhood and adolescence between San Francisco and Paris. Attended the Emma Willard School and Vassar College. Speaks several languages, loves baseball, and art. Joining up with the OSS puts her in close contact with her good friend Lewis Nixon over the course of the war.

Victoria “Bertie” Adams Albert, 19; from Green Bay, WI

Joins up when a recruiter comes into her family’s camera shop and asks if anyone would like to join the APS. Believes in telling stories honestly and truthfully. Will run directly into the line of fire for a picture. Easy to tease, but easy to apologize to. A bit idyllic, naive, young, in over her head at points. Trusts people in authority. Babbles when she’s nervous. Tries to use her camera as a shield but gets too attached anyway.

if you have any questions or would like to know more about any of them, please don’t hesitate to send me a message or send in an ask!

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reddeadreference · 1 year

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Saint Denis Times No. 54

-Click here to return to the index for Newspapers-

This issue is available after completion of the mission: The Landowning Classes

(All article transcripts below the cut)

Articles marked with * are exclusive to this region’s issue.

Articles marked with ** are only there upon completion of the related mission.

Blackwater Booming

SETTLERS ARRIVING DAILY. TOWN FOUNDED BY JOSIAH BLACKWATER SEES RAPID GROWTH.

Every day, livery worker Lance Hopkins greets new arrivals to Blackwater as their tired horses and mules who have seen many miles of travel require new shoes and salves for cuts and scrapes. He can barely keep the forge tended and lit for all work coming in each day, telling that by all accounts he has not had a day of rest or solitude in a good eight months.

Once a sleepy port town founded by fabled adventurer Josiah Blackwater, it is now hailed as a "Gateway to the West" as miles of track have been laid through the area, heading west to the Pacific Coast. Workers arrive to join lumber and mining outfits. Stocks are traded.

Investors are staking claims to the areas and surrounds, eager to build housing settlements. It is true - everything is up-to-date in Blackwater. Each day, more dispatches arrive from the East saying, "We're coming to Blackwater! She's a great gal, that. She's a huckleberry above most people's persimmons. Show me another like her any whar, and I am thar directly!", or words to that effect.

Mongrel Gang Terrorizing Area

SKINNER BROTHERS. MURDER, CATTLE RUSTLING, SAFE BLOWING.

A telegraph from Sheriff Oswald Dunbar announced that a family traveling through Tall Trees has been found slain - reportedly by the notorious Skinner Brothers. The mother was found strangled and the children hanging from trees. The father was found dead nearby, tortured in a gruesome and savage way. The Skinner Brothers are a rag tag bunch of outcasts and criminals, known for brutal ways of dismembering and thieving.

They are believed to be a group of half-breeds, mixed race outcasts, outlaw Irishmen, a Chinaman, escaped killers and rapers. They are as keen with an Apache bow as they are with a Mexican knife. Authorities have had a difficult time tracking the gang. They use cunning to cover their tracks and rarely stay in one place for very long. They are believed to have killed more innocents than the Otis Miller Boys, Butcher Brothers, and the Tallulah Jetty Gang combined.

Evelyn Miller Resigns

SEDUCED BY FAME. AUTHOR TROUBLED BY HYPOCRISY.

Social Theorist and philosopher Evelyn Miller has resigned his post at Princeton after increased turmoil regarding his theories on mankind and the savage. Announcing that he had become "troubled at his own remorseless hypocrisy" the once regaled professor and theorist on what separates the white man from that of the lowly savage left the University in haste, and is reported to have retreated to the wilderness to write a book about becoming one with it.

Once a fixture at society events in several states, he has long been accused by some as being seduced by fame, with a penchant for entertaining aristocrats in salons with his theories of the rights of man, nature, and the urges of savages. His publisher reports that they have not heard from Mr. Miller in quite some time and are not aware if he is authoring a follow up work to his bestselling books.

Notorious Bad Man Alive

VAN DER LINDE REPORTEDLY SEEN IN TALL TREES. ON THE RUN SEVEN YEARS. GANG MEMBERS STILL AT LARGE.

A dispatch from Tall Trees reports a sighting of infamous outlaw Dutch van der Linde, who has been on a bloody run from the law for many years now. The notorious Dutch's Boys gang once plagued this state, but it was believed to have disbanded as long ago as 1899. Two of his henchmen - Hosea Matthews and Arthur Morgan - were both killed in separate raids by Pinkerton agents that same year.

Gang members Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, John Marston, and Charles Smith are still believed to be at large. A telegraph from Mexico reports that Javier Escuella is believed to reside in the mountain region there. The massive sum of money taken in the Blackwater Robbery by the gang has never been recovered. It was said to have been stashed in the town somewhere after the gang escaped.

Rumors that gang member Micah Bell returned to retrieve the haul still persist. The bloody days of the Van der Linde gang are the stuff of legend, appearing in pulp novels and even memorialized in popular song. Law enforcement have pledged to continue searching for Van der Linde, who has one of the largest bounties on his head for kill or capture.

Cholera Epidemic Rages

ARMADILLO UNDER QUARANTINE. SCORES DEAD.

A severe bout of cholera has broken out in Armadillo, a town still reeling from the brutal scarlet fever epidemic at the turn of the century that left a significant portion of the town dead. Reports indicate that as many as three in four residents are experiencing symptoms of cholera, including diarrhea and vomiting. Armadillo has been plagued with poor sanitation conditions for many years, adding to the spread of disease.

The town has had such troubles over the years with pandemics and dust storms that some refer to "The Armadillo Curse" and warn people to stay away.

Marvel of Delight

A "MOVING PICTURE SHOW". VIEWERS ASTOUNDED AND DELIGHTED.

Not since the invention of the steam engine has a contraption bestowed such delight as the Kinetograph, bringing moving pictures to the screen, delighting audiences around the world. At first an experiment which does for the eye what the phonograph does for the ear, it has quickly replaced the magic lantern as a source for amusement and entertainment. As an electric motor turns, it shines a light through a sprocketed film, projecting a moving image on a wall or screen.

Picture machine operators are in high demand and the contraptions cost quite a sum. While the first moving picture shows available were shorts of famous people, scenic views, news events and disasters, creators now are drawing pictures for each frame and then shooting them in succession, giving the appearance of movement. Popular examples are The Courtship Ritual and Beaumont the Burly, which have been selling out [in] theaters across the country.

Queer Pranks of Lightning

INJURIES FROM STRIKES.

The ferocious lightning storm the week before last caused several freak accidents. A bolt struck the house of Hector S. Wilton and, having traveled along an ornamental awning, shattered a window. Three people in the room were severely shocked and Mrs. Wilton was completely knocked senseless and required arousal with smelling salts. She has since reported difficulty walking as the electricity traveled through her and it has impaired her right leg.

She also suffers from rheumatism which has since been inflamed by the the electrical strike. Mr. Wilton safely fled the house but returned having noticed that a small section of the sitting room was set ablaze by the bolts of light.

Child Killer

FINLEY MOST WANTED MAN IN COUNTRY.

Shane Finley, wanted for multiple counts of thievery and murder, including the killing of an innocent child, has been sighted outside the Tumbleweed/Armadillo area. With a price on his head in five states, multiple bounties exist for his capture or kill. Famous bounty hunter James Langton is also in pursuit, saying "I will capture and kill you, Shane Finley, there is no uncertainty about that."

Finley has evaded capture multiple times and is adept at wearing disguises, often hiding in plain sight of the law who are so famously seeking him. Any that encounter Finley are highly cautioned as he is desperate.

Railroad Takeover Complete

SENATE ACTS ON CORNWALL RAIL.

The Senate has passed a bill authorizing the final consolidation of the remaining lines previously owned by the Cornwall Southern & Eastern Railways. In a measure largely supported by officials with the Pacific Union Railroad, all trains and routes once owned by Cornwall will be consolidated and continue service under the Pacific name.

As part of the takeover agreement, the Pacific Union Railroad has announced plans to lay track linking West Elizabeth and New Austin in the next few years, which should greatly benefit industries seeking to expand to areas of the country that previously had only been served by coach.

New Railroad Completed

A GRAND PROJECT OUR MANIFEST DESTINY

The final ties were laid and spikes driven through to complete the Central Union rail line stretching through New Hanover. Passengers will be able to bypass the Grizzlies, Rhodes, and Scarlett Meadows, drastically reducing travel time. Now with a direct line connecting Cornwall Kerosene and Tar and Saint Denis, freight and commuters will flow fast and freely.

The project came with complications, including controversy over missing workers' wages and a land dispute. Representatives from towns such as Van Horn Trading Post and Annesburg say the new line will result in the decline of their towns. Civic planners hail the railroad as a new dawning day in American progress and history.

The Art of Angling by Jeremy Gill

ROCK BASS.

In my extensive travels, I've logged many a mile on steamers, paddleboats, and nautical vessels of the queerest sort in search of trophy fish and, of course, wisdom. Many a sensible young angler who sees me as their hero will ask why fishing is dull, throbbing boredom punctuated by the wild explosion of excessive joy at a mere tap against the bait. That's because you're doing it wrong, you jackanapes, I tell them.

I've seldom gone more than ten minutes without a fish on the line, and when I do, such is my mastery over mind as well as matter that I enjoy the time. If you're looking for a fun fish - try going for Rock Bass in clear water on a sunny day. I once reeled in over 50 Rock Bass in an hour in Tall Trees. Try it and see! It's like life, only better!

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 newspaper

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clarklovescarole · 1 year

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September 1937: Avid Tennis Fans

September 4, 1937 – The Morning Post

Snapshots of Hollywood collected at random: Carole Lombard and Clark Gable heading for the open spaces at the crack of dawn Sunday to go duck shooting. Here’s a warning to all the roaming ducklets (and hunters) to beware. “Dead-Eye” Gable is a sure shot.

September 4, 1937 – Santa Ana Register

Credit the Gable influence for Carole Lombard’s new hobby, target shooting – and the girl is good at it, too.

September 8, 1937 – Modesto Bee

Carole Lombard and Clark Gable coming back from their hunting trip with a flock of doves – not ducks.

September 10, 1937 – Seattle Star

Carole Lombard’s new horse, Pinto, was a gift from Clark Gable.

September 14, 1937 – Evening Star Telegram

Talking about the wide open spaces, Carole Lombard is following the publicity of boyfriend Clark Gable and going in for the great outdoors in a picturesque way. She has just been photographed milking a cow.

September 18, 1937 – Miami News

“Hi pal,” shouts Clark Gable, answering the hail of a friend in the gallery, as he arrives with Screen Actress Carole Lombard to witness matches at the Pacific Southwest tennis tournament.

September 20, 1937 – Des Moines Register

Ardent Tennis Fans Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, film stars, also attended the tournament opening.

September 20, 1937 – San Francisco Examiner

Chatter in Hollywood

No one in Hollywood was more surprised to hear that they had quarreled and parted than Carole Lombard and Clark Gable. At the very moment the “Hot News” came over the air that they had split they were dining together at a local café, having been at tennis matches all afternoon. Their shrieks of laughter almost drowned out the commentator who was supposedly giving the world inside news. Every moment that Carole can spare from the studio is spent in Clark’s company.

September 21, 1937 – The Morning Post

Snapshots of Hollywood

Taking a tip from Wimp, Clark Gable took his own bird along when invited to Carole Lombard’s house for a duck dinner.

September 21, 1937 – Evening Star

Clark Gable is building a house high up in Coldwater Canyon. His privacy has been too often invaded at his Beverly Wilshire Hotel home.

September 21, 1937 – Hartfield Courant

Few people realize or remember that, several years ago, Carole Lombard was seriously hurt in a motor car smash and not expected to resume her picture career. She deserves a lot of credit for getting to the top in spite of the facial scar you sometimes see in still photographs.

September 22, 1937 – Los Angeles Times

Former Mates in Meeting

At the Los Angeles Tennis Club where the Pacific Coast tournament is under way, Carole Lombard and Clark Gable occupying a box, with the latter’s ex, Rhea Gable, sitting right smack in front of them…

September 23, 1937 – The Times

Among many Hollywood film celebrities attending Pacific southwest tennis matches in Los Angeles are Carole Lombard and Clark Gable, seen through screen talking with Alice Marble, left, and Helen Jacobs, right. Clark and Carole, linked romantically, are avid tennis fans.

September 25, 1937 – The Province

With the stars – screen and net – at the exhibition matches preceding the Los Angeles Tennis Club tournament…

The crowd is only interested in the byplay between Clark Gable and Carole Lombard. They hold hands – just like they do in the movies – and every once in awhile give their fans a range of facial expressions, i.e., laughter, amusement, wide-eyed wonder (Miss Lombard), tooth-showing grin (Mr. Gable). Oh, Hollywood’s a wonderful place – but not for tennis matches.

September 25, 1937 – Los Angeles Times

Out in Canoga Park the paper has to run a regular feature every week telling about the new film stars who have moved into the San Fernando Valley.

This time the main additions to home owners there are Clark Gable and Carole Lombard.

This seems to leave just about room enough for Baby LeRoy, and that’s all.

September 26, 1937 – San Francisco Examiner

Any reporter in search of glamorous duets last week had only to visit the tennis matches. Carole Lombard and Clark Gable were there every moment they could snatch from their studios.

September 26, 1937 – Los Angeles Times

Celebrities Mingle at Club Party

By Aileene Parks

Coming as a brilliant interlude in the field of play through the week of the Pacific Southwest Tennis Tournament, the Tennis Ball at the Beverly Hills Tennis Club Thursday night was one of the most brilliant affairs of the season with the color scheme of the dance, red and white, supplying a kaleidoscopic background for the brilliant array of film folk, Southland society and sport celebrities…

Alice Marble dining with Clark Gable and Carole Lombard…

September 29, 1937 – Salt Lake Tribune

Dining in a popular eaterie this evening when, of a sudden, such wild bedlam broke out near the entrance that I ran to the window, expecting to see a traffic killing, a fire or – at least – a fist fight. Instead I saw Carole Lombard, Barbara Stanwyck, Clark Gable and Robert Taylor fighting their way through a mob of excited autograph hunters. People pulled and people pushed. A hand snatched at the corsage Barbara wore. A girl tried to kiss Bob Taylor. Carole’s hat was knocked off. Finally, behind Clark’s powerful blocking, four dedraggled stars reached sanctuary inside the restaurant. How would YOU like to be a movie idol?

#1937 #old hollywood #clark gable #carole lombard

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aegor-bamfsteel · 2 years

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your favorite animal besides frogs and elephants? loll

You’ve opened up the floodgate, anon! Other than frogs and elephants, I also commonly reblog photos of horses and cats. But there are some animals that I appreciate that I blog about more rarely, and that you might not have heard too much of, that I’ll mention here:

The Matschie’s tree kangaroo, an endangered marsupial native to Papua New Guinea. They are shy and solitary, and breeding them in captivity is difficult. I love everything about their appearance. This is a female from the San Diego zoo.

The northern white cheeked gibbon, a critically endangered lesser primate native to Southeast Asia. They are monogamous and the couples sing to each other to mark their territory. This photo is of the female at my local zoo, who likes when I show her stuff in my pockets (Here’s my write up on her)

Introducing one of the few valid dragons I know of, the Komodo dragon is the world’s largest lizard, listed as endangered and native to Indonesia. The first Western expedition to bring them into captivity inspired the movie King Kong. This is a female from my local zoo.

The Steller’s Sea Eagle, the heaviest eagle in the world, listed as vulnerable and native to the northeast Asia coast. They are about the size of a toddler and strut like models. This is a female from the Syracuse zoo.

Rounding out the big categories of animals (mammal, bird, reptile…an octopus is the closest thing on this list to a fish. Sorry, I don’t visit aquariums that much because none of them are local) is the Giant Pacific Octopus. Breathtakingly unique from all other species humans have deemed intelligent, they generally live alone, live short lives, have 3 hearts and 9 brains, suckers that rotate independently of each other, and can change color and texture. I have an octopus tag you can check out for more facts, like how they allegedly can dream. This was taken at an aquarium in 2020.

I hope this overview inspired you to look more into some of these animals. I have other favorite animals, but this post gave me the chance to show off some photos and specific individuals I’ve interacted with.

#ask #opinions #animals #stellars sea eagle #tree kangaroos #octopus #komodo dragons #gibbon #faves

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josiebelladonna · 3 years

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a proposal

Let me start with a question.

What do you think of when you see the words “Gothic novel”? Do you think of Edgar Allen Poe and your run of the mill damsel in distress? Do you think of zombies and vampires, ghosts and creepy human beings, the stuff that gives you the heebie jeebies? Of course. But what else do you think of when you see those words? The setting.

The typical settings for a Gothic novel are the deep South, the Northeast United States, or England—or they're a fictional kitschy suburbia like in Edward Scissor hands, or a castle like in Frankenstein. But you don't think of the West Coast of the United States and Canada.

Heavens, no. The West Coast is where the yuppies hail from. It’s Hollywood. It’s nothing but gold (except when it’s on fire). It’s grunge. It’s the dream of the 90s.

But hear me out: the West Coast, from San Diego to Juneau, from the Pacific Coast Highway to the Rocky Mountains—and we can even extend this across the water over to Hawai'i and the entire rim really—is actually a good setting for a Gothic novel.

Just one example: California. Rotten horrible Hollywood, especially coming off the heels of #MeToo and a collective malaise of the films emerging from it. You have the coastline—which, I should mention, is nothing like in the movies. The beaches you think of in California are only a small fraction of such, mostly in San Diego or wherever a place has “beach” in the name near the L.A and Santa Barbara areas. But then again, there is a subgenre known as “ocean punk”, or speculative steampunk influenced fiction set within the Pacific waters.

There's the fog all over California, with the wispy fog in San Francisco and the dense tule fog in the Central Valley. The vast barren high desert in the Eastern Sierra that seems to extend off in the distance forever as well as the cold alpine region that seems to be all in a world of its own. The thousand year old scraggly trees in the ancient bristlecone pine forest in the White Mountains. The vast, remote northern section of the state north of Sacramento.

The fact the state always seems to be on fire, unless it's getting slammed with a bomb cyclone courtesy of the mother ocean. The winds in the south are the Santa Ana winds; to the north, they're known as Diablo winds. Bone dry, ferocious, and bitingly cold from the east. The intense, unpredictable monsoon flow in the summer that will either give you rain or will spark a fire in the worst way possible. The quiet, strangely underrated but no doubt present Pacific hurricanes.

The fact we literally have a place called DEATH VALLEY.

Then there's the characters. You have the overly rich people in the southland and near the coast. The neglected farmers in the Central Valley. The eccentrics in the Bay Area. The ultra conservative hicks in the Eastern Sierra. Much like your characters in your typical Gothic novel, they all seem to be hiding something. There's a deep fear here.

There is in fact some folklore, as well:

you have the Dark Watchers (or Los Vigilantes Oscuros) that haunt the Santa Lucia Mountains north of San Luis Obispo, giant dark shadowy creatures with brimmed hats and walking sticks who watch travelers from the horizon.

The Winchester House in San Francisco. And also anything with “Sutro” in the name (Sutro Baths, Sutro Tower; the Sutro Tunnel in Virginia City in Nevada).

Grizzly Adams, the mountain man who captured animals and gave them to circuses (namely P.T. Barnum), befriended mainly grizzly bears.

Tahoe Tessie, which is our version of the Loch Ness Monster only with far less elephants.

The whole history behind the Gold Rush and the Spanish Mission. Need I say more.

This is just California, too. I'm not even touching on Nevada—which had the Silver Rush around the same time as the Gold Rush and became a state on Halloween no less—Oregon, known for its lumber, aquariums, and wild horses; Washington, as we all know and love, and going into British Columbia, known for its incessant rain and lush forests. The Northwest also has the volcanoes, beginning with Mount Shasta and going all the way up to Denali and the Aleutian Islands.

I also want to include Arizona, Nevada, and Idaho in as well, given Arizona has the remote, desolate deserts and shares the Colorado River with California; Nevada shares the Colorado and Lake Mead with Arizona as well, plus Lake Tahoe, the Black Rock Desert, and the White Mountains with California; and Idaho has its proximity to the Northwest corridor and a place known as “Craters of the Moon National Park.”

Indeed, I find the entire Pacific Rim to be a good setting for Gothic tales. 7000 miles of rich blue waters that foretell unknown tales—the eastern side of which literally decides the fate of the planet's weather (the Eastern Pacific will tell us whether a place will have a drought or be slammed with snow!), and each place that surrounds it has its own darkness—while respecting their cultures in the case of Japan, China, Oceania, South America, and also Hawai'i.

Let me give a couple of examples so far, my fanfictions The Artist, Burning Sacramento, The Boy Who Destroyed the World (alternate title: Thalassophobia), Gray Ghost, Cold Embrace, and currently, Xenon Dreams.

The Artist (June 2020) is about a girl who had grown up in the worst part of the pandemic and during a rather huge return wave of the virus, she found herself stranded with a bunch of boys and they’re basically just trying to survive. Set in Seattle as well as Portland and there are plenty of nods to solarpunk as well as erotica. Also a coming of age story!

Burning Sacramento (October 2020) is a short story where the villain is a 200 year old woman who wants to sustain her life with flesh and blood of the living, a continuation of the robot canon in my other fic amped and wired (making robots out of recycled humans, dead or alive); inspired by Elizabeth Bathory and is set in Sacramento.

Thalassophobia (October 2020) is another short following that same canon, except Frank’s murder ballad contains lyrics about an actual murder: the victim of whom comes back for his blood. Set on a boat off the coast of L.A.

Gray Ghost (June 2021) is the third in my “dead trilogy” (the other two entries being Six Feet Under and Buried Alive), showing Kristina all the way to the moment in which she hanged herself. Even though it’s mostly set in Boston, NorCal plays a huge role, including mentions of the Diablo winds as well as Day of the Dead.

Cold Embrace (August 2021) is my vampire tale, which began life as a drabble and I thought it was awesome. Incredibly violent and I took a great deal of influence from movies like Ginger Snaps, Jennifer’s Body, Hannibal, the Saw franchise, Blade, and of course, Interview with the Vampire. Set firmly in San Francisco and the Bay Area.

And last but not least is Xenon Dreams (October 2021), a post-apocalyptic comedic country that would make Ursula K. Le Guin proud (I hope). Set in my beloved Oregon.

I can arguably put Painted in a Corner (May 2019) here, given it’s about a pervading fear I have: I become famous and incredibly isolated as a result. It’s set between San Diego and Albuquerque, with a scene in the Bay Area.

Wherever a place has secrets, wherever a place has souls that have come to pass in abhorrent, frightening ways, therein lays that element of morbidity (hey, what do you want with a place referred to as “the Ring of Fire”?).

Not to mention, the ocean seems to have a mind of its own. It’s hiding a whole world underneath those blue waters. Everyone seems to take it for granted, as well. Dearest Mother Ocean. Mommy Dearest.

Any place that has “Pacific” in the name of it is an ode to her blue waters.

Thus, I propose “Pacific Gothic.” It comes in all shapes and forms, all flavors and textures, given the diversity of the West Coast states, Western Canada, East Asia, the Hawaiian Islands, Australia, Oceania, Chile, Ecuador, Peru, Mexico, and Central America, while remaining faithful to the Gothic literature tropes of decades past.

A genre that is not for the faint of heart or the feeble of mind. A genre that tells a story first and an aesthetic last. A genre that says “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas—you just might run into a hooker ready to steal your money when you're passed out so tread with care”; “Vive La Mexico!” while throwing you into the land of the dead; “Now Entering the Scenic Cascade Volcanoes—pray one doesn't erupt”; “that man stole my silver and is now headed for Seattle to trade in for emeralds!” all at the same time.

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hippography · 8 months

Photo

KEANE'S ROYAL LADY 42794

Winning Yearling Filly of California's 1948 Futurity

This saucy filly made her debut as a yearling in 1948 but was shown only in the Futurity, where she was second in yearling fillies and reserve to the champion yearling— which proved to be the same filly in each event. This means, of course, that she topped all yearling horse colts in the 1948 Futurity.

She is a full sister to Keane's Twilight Chief, pictured on opposite page ... and Chief’s Lady Dorris, pictured above.

Betty Jellinek (ed.), 1949, Here’s Who in Horses of the Pacific Coast Vol. 5

#American Saddlebred #filly #Keane's Royal Lady #1949 #Here's Who in Horses of the Pacific Coast #Cosner

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not-close-to-straight · 3 years

Text

Lost (Spideypool)

(Guess which story this is a sequel to??)

The archeological dig site was more impressive than the kid thought it would, though still no where near the level of comfort of the high rise penthouse apartment he’d left behind in Manhattan.

It didn’t seem possible for there to be so much mud in one damn place, and he groaned as his bright white sneakers sank into the ooze and stuck. The sun was bright, there was at least a billion mosquitos in the air, it was hot and humid and everything smelled like the nearby river and the stink of research assistants gone too long with out a shower.

It was terrible.

Despite the well constructed living quarters, clearly labeled kitchen facilities, ventilated artifact collection sites and what looked like impressively modern shower rooms towards the tree line, the dig was still... rustic....if rustic was the right word to describe the actual complete opposite of what he’d hoped his summer plans would include.

From Peter: Remind me again how digging for pottery is going to help me build character? Just because Grandpa Howard made you do this doesn’t mean I should have to. There was nothing wrong with my plans to go to Cancun, alright? I would have brushed up on my Spanish, spent all summer swimming... how is playing in the mud better?

From Dad: Buck up, Kiddo. I survived and so will you

From Peter: You survived because Pops literally carried you out of here on his back after you messed up your designer suit

From Dad: I resent that. Ask your Pops about the slingshot grenades. Pretty sure I saved his giant ass.

“Christ.” Peter put his phone away and dragged both hands through his hair. “Could’a gone to Cancun. Could definitely not be here getting malaria cos my Dad’s met and fell in love in some psycho turn of events.”

“Hey!” a sharp whistle from the runway, and Peter tried his best to turn in the thick mud to see what the person wanted. “You just gonna stand there all day or are you gonna get that perky ass in gear and unload these boxes? I got places to be!”

“Oh I don’t--” Peter shook his head quickly. “I don’t work here--”

“If you’re standing here, you work here.” The guy was wearing fatigues in the same sort of pattern that Uncle Bucky’s employees wore, but Peter was less focused on that and more focused on how the guy was balancing a heavy box on each shoulder, biceps straining around the weight and big hands splayed wide to keep his grip.

...wow.

“Hey!” another sharp whistle and Peter jumped. “Stop staring at my guns and go get a box! I’ve got half an hour to get this shit refueled and gone again, let’s go sweet cheeks!”

“Yeah, I don’t really haul boxes?” Peter hesitated. “I don’t know if you know who I am but my Dad’s sort of own this place and I’m just here to learn a little bit.”

“Uh huh, why don’t you start by learning some manual labor.” Up close the guy was even bigger, but Peter’s attention was caught by the faint lines of scars up and down the soldier’s arms and criss crossing up his neck. “You’re Stark’s boy?”

“Stark-Rogers.” Peter corrected immediately. “Yes, and how did you--”

--he stopped when the ground shifted beneath their feet and a low rumble came from the hills behind the camp.

“What the hell was that?” he asked slowly. “There’s hardly ever recorded seismic activity on this side of the continent, everything earthquake related stays towards the coast on the Pacific.”

“Yeah, you’re Stark’s kid alright. All big eyes and quoting facts nobody needs to know.” the soldier looked Peter over again, something unreadable glimmering in his hazel eyes. “What you just felt is the result of unregulated mining attempts in the hills out here. They’re blasting down deep trying to find something valuable and it’s upsetting the stability of the entire region.”

“The dig site--”

“--is sinking as the ground gets more unstable.” he confirmed. “That’s why we’re rushing trying to save everything. Buck tells me they’ve been working this place for thirty years now and still haven’t collected it all, but they’re running out of time.”

“My Dad’s sent me to a sinking archeological dig site to die of malaria and earthquakes?!” Peter shouted. “What the fuck!? What are we supposed to do?!”

“Take ten to twenty percent off the top there, bud.” came the dry answer. “We’re supposed to load and unload these planes just as fast as we can manage before the mountain over there collapses in on itself and buries us under a few hundred tons of mud and rocks and washes this all out to the river. Get to work.”

“I--”

“Get to work.”

“Fine.” Peter swallowed, unstuck his no longer bright white shoes from the mud and followed the guy back to the plane. “I’m Peter by the way. Peter Stark-Rogers.”

“Wade Wilson. “ the soldier grunted. “I work for the Bronco’s unit. Security, assassinations and now apparently babysitting.”

“Babysitting?”

“Your ‘Uncle Bucky’ reassigned me from a cushy job overseas and planted my ass here to make sure nothing happened to his nephew.” Wade tossed Peter a duffel bag that weighed almost as much as he did. “I’ve been here a month waiting for you to show up. Everyone’s gettin’ real restless with the mining going on and the risk of losing everything they’ve dug up. There’s been a few attacks on the mining camps, some retaliation-- nobody’s happy about the situation and me and a few others have been trying to keep the peace.”

The ground rumbled again and the muscle in Wade’s jaw ticked as he ground his teeth together. “A month ago I felt one of those a week, now it’s multiple times a day. It’s not good.”

“Are we--” Peter held the bag tight and wet his lips anxiously. “Are we safe?”

“Safe enough.” Wade nodded. “Your Dad’s been fully funding this place for years now, he wouldn’t send you out here if there was any real danger. Don’t worry about it, kid. At least not yet.”

“I’m not a kid, I’m twenty two.”

“Fuckin’ Mazel Tov, bro.”

Peter narrowed his eyes but followed Wade back towards the camp, huffing and puffing as he lugged the huge bag, eyes wide as he tried to take in everything about the archeological dig that had brought his parents together.

Our love was never buried too deep to find. His Pops liked to say, all smooshy and smarmy and gross as he rubbed at the gold ring Tony still wore every day. Maybe you get out there and find an adventure of your own, son. Build some character, get some sun, come home a changed man.

“A changed man.” Peter grumbled when he stepped in something that was most likely not mud judging by the baleful look a nearby horse gave him. “Gonna get lost out here in the goddamn jungle, got a goddamn mine trying to collapse and wash everything down the mountain into the water, got a goddamn soldier calling himself my babysitter--ooph!”

Unexpectedly running into Wade was like unexpectedly running into a brick wall and Peter stumbled backwards and splatted right into the muck.

“Damn it!” he shouted and Wade-- damn him-- definitely cracked a grin before kneeling down in the mud too. “What are you doing? Help me up!”

“Listen here, kid.” Rough fingers grasped Peter’s jaw and he went very very still. “My job is too look out for you, but I’ve got a whole camp full of people to look out for too. If you’re gonna fuss and complain all summer, why don’t you take that cute ass of yours and sit it right back on the plane, cos I don’t have time for this shit.”

“I-- I--”

“If you feel like settling down and doing some good, then get up off the ground and get back to work.” Peter might have imagined the brush of a thumb over his cheek, but he definitely didn’t imagine the way Wade’s gaze dropped to his mouth and lingered. “And if you’re gonna stay, maybe you wear real shoes not pretty city shoes and real pants not whatever this jegging shit is making your legs look all distracting.”

“....are my legs distracting you?” Peter breathed and Wade’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Cos I brought shorts if those would be less distracting.”

“Pretty sure you’d be distracting even in a nun outfit.” The soldier jerked away and stood abruptly. “Get up and get going, honey bunches. We’ve got a lot to do before I even give you a tour of the camp and introduce you to the researchers. Back to the plane for more gear, c’mon.”

“Sure, sure.” Peter scrambled to his feet and made a half hearted attempt to wipe the dirt from his clothes. “So. Wade. Why did you call my Uncle Bucky the Bronco?”

“Oh ho ho that is not a conversation we are having, small fry. Absolute not. Move past the question.”

“But--”

“Move past the question!”

#spideypool #stony

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wistfulcynic · 3 years

Note

The letter’s route, please!!!

Right. So. This is in reference to the letter Mary Margaret sends Emma at the end of The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan). This letter follows a very roundabout path to get from A to B, and Krystal wanted to know if that was to conceal Emma's whereabouts or if it was just how the mail travelled. The answer is yes and yes.

Everyone buckle in.

Here's the passage that describes the letter's route:

This letter travelled by mail coach from the Haven general store—where Miss Blanchard posted it to the care of a P.O. Box in San Francisco—to the main post office in Casper. From there it went via train to Cheyenne, where it was loaded onto the mail car of the Union Pacific Railway and thence made its journey to the west coast. In San Francisco its fortunes underwent a curious change, for it was redirected by a clerk there, in accordance with instructions, and placed back on the Union Pacific, headed this time for Denver. From Denver it voyaged onwards to Kansas City, then Chicago, and finally to New York, where it abandoned train travel forever in favour of a steam ship bound for Buenos Aires.

Upon arrival at port it was placed in the charge of a courier who carried it along with a scant handful of others over the rough roads of the Argentinian coast to Puerto Santa Cruz and then inland, where it finally, many months after its departure, came to rest at a tiny, dusty outpost in southern Patagonia.

This fic is set at the turn of the 20th century, when mail coaches, trains, and steam ships were the only options for transporting international post. The Transcontinental Railroad by then had been carrying mail for several decades and the branch railway lines helped distribute it to smaller towns, from where it would then go by coach or horseback to some sort of collection point where people would stop by when they could to pick it up. At that time door-to-door mail delivery didn't exist.

Which of course doesn't answer the question of why MM's letter first went to a San Francisco P.O. Box before doubling back and going to the east coast to catch its steam liner. For that we need to mine the backstory of Emma and Killian's relationship and how they managed to keep it a complete secret for three years. Fleshing this out in original novel form is going to be my NaNoWriMo project this year so I've given it a bit of thought.

Emma lives in a cabin next to an outcrop of rock. This rock seems solid but there is actually a gap in it, which leads to a canyon that's invisible from any road. On the night they meet, Killian is injured and he gets lost. He ends up in this canyon by chance and his horse finds the way out, leading him to Emma who takes him in and bandages him up.

You can pretty much guess where the story goes from there.

The canyon then becomes the way that Killian enters and exits Haven without anyone seeing him, and also where he keeps his horse when he's with Emma. It's the way they leave when they go to Argentina. They head west through the canyon to Idaho, Nevada, then to San Francisco where they set up the P.O. Box (and Emma writes to Mary Margaret to tell her of its existence) and get themselves new clothes and new identities. Armed with those, they get on a train--much like the letter does--and travel to NYC, then to Buenos Aires on a steam ship of their own.

I believe it was possible at the time to sail down the west coast of the USA and South America and around Cape Horn to reach Argentina. But that route has always been notoriously difficult and also uncomfortable, compared to the trains of the time and the steam ships that operated in the Atlantic. It makes sense that Emma and Killian would choose the latter, both for practical purposes and to evade the bounty hunters on Killian's tail.

So, TL;DR yes and yes. The letter took the route it did as part of the way Emma and Killian concealed their whereabouts and also because that was the way mail travelled in those days.

I deeply love and appreciate questions of this nature because I basically always have a backstory, even for one-shots, and will take any excuse to expound on them at great length. Thanks, K ❤️❤️❤️.

The Outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan) is my contribution to the @cshistfic event! Read it HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3.

#cshistfic #captain swan #kmomof4 #the outlaw Killian Jones (and the legend Emma Swan)#profdanglaisstuff #asked and answered #lovely shipmates

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whywishesarehorses · 3 years

Text

Limitless - 2021 Pacific Crest Trail Ride Through

3 days ago, on April 7th, Jess Goodlett started the ride of her dreams - a 2,650 mile ride of the entirety of the Pacific Crest Trail, border to border. She is attempting this ride alone, with two BLM mustangs she has trained herself. Jess is part of the Limitless team, a group of women going on various adventures to prove that the things women can accomplish in pursuit of their dreams are Limitless. This ride is fantastic, and Jess is still sourcing financial support. She has venmo, PayPal, and merch set up if you are interested in helping out!

This is similar in spirit to the idea of Unbranded, and Jess has been in contact with some of that team for advice.

Below I've shared a blog post she wrote discussing the trip and her plans! Under a readmore because it's LONG.

Time to Make this Official.

Yes, the ride is on.

I am planning a thru-ride on the Pacific Crest Trail for 2021.

My name is Jess Goodlett. I am 25 years old, and I have been a part of Limitless since the beginning.

📷Photo of the Limitless group from 2017

People seem to say that I am pretty outgoing and adventurous. When I set my mind on a goal, I definitely become very determined to make it happen. Most of my family and friends were not too surprised when I dropped the news that I was going to continue the plan to attempt a thru-ride on the Pacific Crest Trail. This trail has been on my mind for years, and it was actually how Limitless got its start.

My trail name is Raindance (this is how I got my trail name), and these are my BLM Mustangs, Makani (10-year-old bay roan mare) and Malana (7-year-old chestnut mare).

Also, here is little Zendaya. She is too young to join in on the fun next year, but maybe she will get the chance to tag along in the near future.

📷Zendaya (Daya for short) is my youngest mustang. I hope that she will be able to join in our an adventure in a few years. She is only 3 right now, so she still has some growing to do.

Here [is a photo] of me from a few years back, when I was able to set foot on a small section of the Pacific Crest Trail. This is the moment that sparked up the passion for the trail again after dealing with nostalgia from the group’s ride on the Colorado Trail in 2017.

I had convinced my dad and uncle to drive a rental car up some narrow mountain roads just to be able to set foot on part of the Pacific Crest Trail near Big Bear Lake. It felt magical getting the chance to hike a very small section of the trail. It was like getting a small taste of a big dream. My time on the trail may have only lasted 30 minutes, but it made me realize that I was still very passionate about this trail even after my experience on the Colorado Trail.

📷Repping Limitless while dreaming of a thru-ride on the Pacific Crest Trail.

Making Plans

The plans have gone back and forth a few times, but the goal is to set out on trail in the Spring of 2021. For me, there are a lot of emotions tied in with this thu-ride. I am sure there will be a lot of time for reflection on the days leading up to the trail, including each and every day spent out there with my horses.

This is a big trek. Every time I look at the maps, I feel excited. Maybe a little nervous. But I am focused on what is ahead. The days are flying by fast, and I know the day that I head out to California will be here sooner than I can even imagine. A lot of my time right now is being spent with the horses, and any additional free time goes toward researching the trail.

Let’s talk about the trail.

📷Hike at Kendall Katwalk (part of the PCT) near Seattle, Washington near Snowqualmie Pass

What is the Pacific Crest Trail?

📷Map of the Pacific Crest Trail

The Pacific Crest Trail is a border to border trail that starts at the Mexican border and travels through California, Oregon, and Washington to the Canadian border. The trail is 2,650 miles long, and it is open to both hikers and equestrians.

There are only a handful of completed equestrian thru-rides that are documented. I am sure there are a few more that have gone unmentioned online, but to be honest, it is much more likely for people to plan a thru-hike along the Pacific Crest Trail. Us thru-riders are very few.

For those who may not know, a thru-hike or thru-ride is a long distance trail that is completed in one go (typically one season) – from one end of the trail to other end. This differs from section hiking where one may just complete small sections of the trail instead of the entire length. Though, what a thru-hike or thru-ride is for one person may differ slightly for another. Sometimes trail conditions during a certain year results in hikers or riders having to alter the original path on the trail to detour things like a fire or trail closure. But this does not take away from the fact that the trail was completed if they reach the end. As they say, hike your own hike, or in this situation – ride your own ride.

On the note of section hiking and riding, the Pacific Crest Trail is also a very popular option for those looking to just complete certain sections. According to the Pacific Crest Trail Association (PCTA), there are a total of 29 sections: 18 sections in California, 6 sections in Oregon, and 5 in Washington.

Elevation ranges greatly throughout the entire trail, along with a vast variety of terrain. The Pacific Crest Trail travels over many mountain passes and through many wilderness areas, national forests and parks.

More information can be found on the PCTA official website.

The Difficulties of Planning a Thru-Ride

Taking on a thru ride comes with a lot of its own types of challenges that hikers will not have to face. Adding in one or two horses on trail adds its own difficulty especially when it comes to the logistics.

As I am researching the trail, I am trying to answer questions such as: How are the water sources in this section? Where can I camp? Are there any grazing restrictions? Any trail concerns?

How will I resupply? Where are some places I may be able to pull the horses off trail to rest them? Who will be my emergency contacts? And the list goes on.

I cannot really plan too far ahead with any set plans, but one of my biggest obstacles will be the snow. Trail conditions can change daily, and I have no idea how the winter is going to look at this moment. Because of the length of the trail, some decisions will not be made until I am on trail. I expect many unplanned things to happen. That is just the way it is, and that is why the focus right now is to study and learn the trail as much as I can.

📷Photo of Makani from our 2017 ride on the Colorado Trail.

Why the Pacific Crest Trail?

It was 2013 when I first heard about the Pacific Crest Trail. I was actually scrolling through Facebook when I came across a post in an equestrian Facebook group where a few people were talking about long distance trails. The main topic was riding horses from coast to coast ,but then the Pacific Crest Trail was brought up in the discussion. It was the first time I had heard of an established border to border trail. I was very interested and after a few quick searches online, I quickly became obsessed with this trail and the idea of completing a border to border trail horseback.

Though, I knew I was not ready at that time to take on such a big adventure. I kept the idea stored away in my mind. It would sneak back into my thoughts every so often. When it did, I would spend hours researching this trail and looking for any information I could find for equestrians. I told myself that one day… one day, I would ride the Pacific Crest Trail.

It wasn’t until 2015, when I decided to reach out to some people about the trail. I talked with Gillian Larson, who had completed the trail horseback in 2014. She has been a big inspiration to me and to many others. Over the years, she has now completed the Pacific Crest Trail two times horseback. She has also completed the 800 mile Arizona Trail, the 500 mile Colorado Trail, and the 3,100 mile Continental Divide Trail, which is another border to border trail. (Seriously, check out her Instagram. Her photos and videos of the trails are absolutely breathtaking!)

I also spoke with Ben Masters of Unbranded who encouraged me to get out and “just do it.”

This is when I started to think about friends who may be interested in riding with me. Initially, I reached out to Devan Horn about riding a border to border trail. Devan was the first person I ever thought of to even contact about a thru-ride. She is adventurous and possibly the only person I knew at the time who would have been up for such a challenge. I mentioned to her that I was interested specifically in riding the Pacific Crest Trail. We talked briefly about a long distance trek, and we told each other that we would keep in touch.

A few months passed, when Ragan Kelly reached out to me about a long distance trail. She had spoken with Devan who had mentioned my name to her. Ragan knew a few more people interested in a thru-ride, and that is how Limitless began.

Now, the Pacific Crest Trail is a much longer trail than what my friends and I rode in 2017 with the Colorado Trail. But as I mentioned, the Limitless team originally started with the goal of riding a border to border trail together.

Our exact plans were to ride a shorter trail, the Colorado Trail, in 2017. Then, we wanted to ride a border to border trail, the Pacific Crest Trail, in 2020. But since the start of Limitless in 2015, a lot of things have changed.

When we completed the Colorado Trail, we could all agree it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Out of the group, I was honestly one who did not see myself fully committing to another thru-ride anytime soon. My end of the ride on the Colorado Trail was not what I wanted. Also, what they do not warn you much about long distance trails is that life continues on in the “real world.”

Life. Work. School. Other hobbies and interests. New goals and new opportunities.

There was nothing negative that happened within the team. We are all really good friends and forever will be. I love each and every one of them wholeheartedly. Though, we do not get the chance to see each other often, we will forever hold onto the memories that we created together on the Colorado Trail.

So wait… you are doing this trek solo?

Yes, that is correct. Solo. I am riding the trail alone with my two horses.

I will be honest. This was never my plan. Originally, I was unsure of a solo trek. I did not want to ride this trail alone.

When plans for a 2021 trek started, this thru-ride was going to be made for two riders. But plans changed yet again, and I had to make a decision to either hold off riding the trail or to just go after my dreams.

I know the pros and cons of going by myself, and I know the pros and cons with riding with others. I have heard the recommendations. I have heard the concerns. And with that said, I will continue on with planning this trek solo. This will allow me to put all of my focus on my horses’ needs to get them safely through the trail.

Though, I do hope to have a few friends join in here and there for sections.

How long will this trail take?

This trail will approximately take five to six months to complete. The horses and I will average 20-25 miles per day. I am also factoring in plenty of rest days for the horses. We are starting early enough to get through the hotter, dryer Southern California sections, but we will very likely have to skip around and circle back to some parts of the trail because of snow. In order to complete the full trail in one season, we need to be done sometime in September before the snow starts back up in Washington.

So What is Next?

I have a little over half a year left to get ready for this trek. I am looking forward to sharing our progress leading up to the trail and sharing the adventures that are to come.

#poc equestrian #limitless #pacific crest trail #pct #blm mustang #mustang horse #endurance riding #trail riding #equestrian #horse #hiking #jess goodlett

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greatworldwar2 · 3 years

Text

• Hollywood Canteen

The Hollywood Canteen founded by John Garfield, Bette Davis, and Jules C. Stein as a club offering food, dancing and entertainment for servicemen, usually on their way overseas.

The driving forces behind the creation of the Hollywood Canteen were Bette Davis and John Garfield, along with Jules Stein, President of Music Corporation of America, who headed up the finance committee. Bette Davis devoted an enormous amount of time and energy to the project and served as its president. The Hollywood Canteen operated at 1451 Cahuenga Boulevard in the Los Angeles, California, neighborhood of Hollywood. The 1944 motion picture featuring the canteen has Bette Davis introduced to the crowd as the canteen's founder and president. The various guilds and unions of the entertainment industry donated the labor and money for the building renovations. The canteen was operated and staffed completely by volunteers from the entertainment industry. By the time the canteen opened its doors, over three thousand stars, players, directors, producers, grips, dancers, musicians, singers, writers, technicians, wardrobe attendants, hair stylists, agents, stand-ins, publicists, secretaries, and allied craftsmen of radio and screen had registered as volunteers. Even though the majority of visitors were US servicemen, the canteen was open to servicemen of allied countries as well as women in all branches of service. A serviceman's ticket for admission was his uniform and everything at the canteen was free of charge.

Servicemen could dance with Betty Grable, be served a sandwich by Shirley Temple, and watch a performance by Carmen Miranda. Roy Rogers even rode his horse, Trigger, right onto the stage for some prancing tricks. The canteen provided an outlet for stars anxious to contribute to the war effort in the best ways they knew how—their trade as entertainers. Just 10 days after the canteen opened, Bob Hope broadcast his top-rated radio production, The Pepsodent Show from the Hollywood Canteen. He performed bits with Davis, and members of “Hope’s Gypsies”—the troupe of entertainers who accompanied Hope on his tours to perform for troops on the front lines in Europe and the Pacific during the war—made appearances. The décor of the canteen played on the building’s history as a stable by employing a western theme—the sign was made of rope lettering and chandeliers were constructed from old wagon wheels and retrofitted kerosene lanterns. Celebrities pitched in with decorations and furnishings as well; the piano was donated by Cary Grant. On the first anniversary of the Hollywood Canteen, Davis unveiled the Hall of Honor, a wall of photos of Hollywood figures who served in the military, featuring the likes of such A-listers as Clark Gable and Jimmy Stewart. In 1944, Warner Bros. produced a film called Hollywood Canteen. It was a fictionalized account of two soldiers’ experiences at the canteen, in which dozens of stars played themselves, volunteers for the war’s entertainment efforts.

Musical performances were also a common attraction to servicemen at the Hollywood Canteen. Performances by The Andrew Sisters, Louis Armstrong, Frank Sinatra, Kay Kyser, and Bing Crosby. References to the Hollywood Canteen often erroneously give it the address of The Hollywood Guild and Canteen, which was located at 1284 North Crescent Heights Boulevard in a home owned by the estate of actor Dustin Farnum. It was here that Anne "Mom" Lehr provided meals and bunk beds for servicemen until the end of the Second World War. When the home was razed in 1948, news articles failed to distinguish between the two "Hollywood Canteens", leading to a lasting confusion.

Before it closed on Thanksgiving Day 1945, over 3,000 volunteers, many famous stars among them, entertained nearly four million servicemen. Three million packs of cigarettes were distributed; six million pieces of cake, 125,000 gallons of milk, and nine million cups of coffee were served. When the Hollywood Canteen closed after the war, the $500,000 surplus was applied to veteran relief funds. Bob Hope was one of the many celebrity entertainers who recognized and entertained those in America’s fighting forces. The building where the canteen was located no longer exists; a parking garage and a building are now located on the site, which is just south of Sunset Boulevard. The East Coast counterpart was the New York City–based Stage Door Canteen, which featured Broadway stars and was also celebrated in a film, Stage Door Canteen.

This post is dedicated to @overlookedwwiimedia for their continued support of this page. Go see well written reviews of ww2 films and tv series.

#world war 2 #second world war #world war ii #wwii #history #american history #hollywood #home front #famous people #walt disney #frank sinatra #1940s #vintage hollywood #untold history

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reddeadreference · 1 year

Text

Blackwater Ledger No. 73

-Click here to return to the index for Newspapers-

This issue is available after completion of the mission: The Landowning Classes

(All article transcripts below the cut)

Articles marked with * are exclusive to this region’s issue.

Articles marked with ** are only there upon completion of the related mission.

Blackwater Booming

SETTLERS ARRIVING DAILY. TOWN FOUNDED BY JOSIAH BLACKWATER SEES RAPID GROWTH.

Mongrel Gang Terrorizing Area

SKINNER BROTHERS. MURDER, CATTLE RUSTLING, SAFE BLOWING.

Evelyn Miller Resigns

SEDUCED BY FAME. AUTHOR TROUBLED BY HYPOCRISY.

Notorious Bad Man Alive

VAN DER LINDE REPORTEDLY SEEN IN TALL TREES. ON THE RUN SEVEN YEARS. GANG MEMBERS STILL AT LARGE.

Cholera Epidemic Rages

ARMADILLO UNDER QUARANTINE. SCORES DEAD.

The town has had such troubles over the years with pandemics and dust storms that some refer to "The Armadillo Curse" and warn people to stay away.

Marvel of Delight

A "MOVING PICTURE SHOW". VIEWERS ASTOUNDED AND DELIGHTED.

Queer Pranks of Lightning

INJURIES FROM STRIKES.

Child Killer

FINLEY MOST WANTED MAN IN COUNTRY.

Railroad Takeover Complete

SENATE ACTS ON CORNWALL RAIL.

New Railroad Completed

A GRAND PROJECT OUR MANIFEST DESTINY

The Art of Angling by Jeremy Gill

ROCK BASS.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 photo mode #rdr2 newspaper

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter eleven: the end of the world

The next morning was a cold, gray, and soggy one, but Sam had no intention on returning to Louie's apartment for another round that day: she had already packed her things in the back seat and she nestled down in the front seat with her arms folded across her chest and the lapels of her jacket pulled up to her ears. She had no hood or something to cover her head but she wished for one. She didn't want to be seen. Louie himself meanwhile, locked the door behind him and he headed down the steps. She looked on at him as he rounded the front end of the car and opened the door. She sighed through her nose as he climbed into the front seat.

“You okay?” he asked her in a low voice, and she nodded her head.

“Look—I was thinking about this last night before I fell asleep, too,” he started, “neither of us mean to inflame or kick up any old wounds with anyone. We're just—fooling around, messing around, you know?”

She gazed out the window right as he said that. She had nothing to say to that.

“If either of us made you uncomfortable—and I can tell we did—we didn't mean to. I didn't mean to, and I know Alex didn't mean to, either. And for that, I want to personally apologize to you for it.”

Sam never moved from her spot in the seat next to him. She couldn't hardly stop thinking about any of what went down the night before, such that it almost brought a tear to her eye.

“Also—I, uh—” he stammered and then he cleared his throat, “—hate to tell you this, but I'm kinda out of money.”

She turned her attention over to him and frowned.

“What do you mean you're out of money?” she demanded.

“I'm out of money,” he repeated, “well, for now anyway. Remember what I said yesterday, I had enough for breakfast and a cab?”

“Oh, right, right.” She hesitated. “So what's this mean?”

“Well, I have a full tank of fuel to start with,” he stated, to which she frowned and scoffed at that.

“Louie, we're not driving back to Elsinore from here—it's too far.” She was scorn.

“But the train already left, though,” he pointed out. “It's kind of overkill to fly on down to Elsinore, too.”

She sighed through her nose again.

“Don't really feel like driving through the valley, either,” he added.

“Yeah, it's boring as hell,” she said in a soft voice.

“Boring as hell and still hot as fuck, too,” he said, “at least here we have a bit of leeway with the San Francisco fog. Seven hours of nothin'.” He paused for a second. “We could take the coast.”

“That's longer, though,” she pointed out.

“Nicer, though,” he insisted.

“True. It's way nicer, actually.”

“Bet you've missed the Pacific Coast, too,” he said.

“I have—it's one of the many things I haven't been able to do like at all. Especially when I was growing up out here.”

“Really?” Louie was genuinely taken aback by that.

“Yeah.”

“Well, let's—” He set his hand on the ignition key and turned it. “Let's.”

Sam strapped herself in and Louie shook his head of hair about a bit.

“One thing I really wanted to do with Zelda,” he started again as he pulled on the parking lever, “when we were together was go on a road trip with her somewhere. I always considered driving from Providence down to some place like D.C., or go all the way down to like West Virginia. The two of us on a trip together and just hanging out together.”

“What kept you from doing it?” she asked him.

“Touring and making albums—and dealing with record company horse shit in her case—and in my case it was living a double life. There was no way I could do it, not with my other life in full swing.”

They pulled ahead and began up the block, around the cemetery and towards the block on the other side.

“So—I haven't really taken the Pacific Coast Highway much from my place so just kind of—like—bear with me here,” he sputtered.

“It's okay, it's okay.”

Louie glanced over at her at one point as they rolled up to a stoplight.

“You know—and I'm being perfectly honest with you here, Sam—I'm a little intimidated by you,” he confessed.

“You?” she asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he replied with a shake of his head, “but there's just something about you that completely intimidates me. Like it's hard for me to maintain composure when I'm near you.”

“There's no reason to be, though,” she promised him.

“But I feel it anyways, though. It could be because you made a bold move in moving across the country and back again, but I can't really say for sure.”

“Funny you say that 'cause you did that,” she pointed out.

“True. But see, you weren't living a double life like I was.”

“I mean, I kinda am now,” she assured him.

“How so?”

“Joey doesn't know about Bill. He also doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. For the record, Bill doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. It's like a triangle of sorts with me come to think of it.”

“A delta,” said Louie.

“A delta?”

“Yeah. You know the Greek letter delta?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah!”

“Apparently in the realm of science, it's symbolic of change. Like change in temperature or heat.”

“How do you know that?”

“I dunno if she's shown you this but Morgan—you know, Morgan from the Cherry Suicides—has this old chemistry textbook back at her place. She found it in the garbage believe it or not.”

“Something wrong about that,” Sam declared.

“Oh, yeah. Unless it's actually trash, books do not belong in the trash. But yeah, she found it and I just happened to prop it open one day, and I read a tidbit in a chapter about equations at one point.”

“Huh. Bill has a bunch of old books at his place—mostly old literature, but it's worth a peek, though. I keep meaning to crack them open but I'm not sure where to begin.”

The light turned green and Louie lunged ahead on the street. The clouds hung even lower over them as he merged lanes and they headed for the 880 Freeway. To the right of them was the stretch of gray waters that made up the very Bay itself.

“If you ever come back up here this way,” he started again, “you know you're in a car on the P.C.H., you've got to cross the Golden Gate Bridge at some point. There's just—something majestic about it, even if you've lived here your whole life like the five of us. Well, four of us, anyway, unless Chuck was telling a fib about where he was born. This will take us right by Santa Clara and down to the interchange in San Jose, which'll in turn take us all the way down the coastline to the City of Angels.”

Sam nodded her head and she peered out the windshield to the gray overhead. To think that the assumption with the California coast was all bright sunshine and infinite beaches: it made her laugh the more in which she thought about it.

“What's even the deal with him, anyway?” Louie asked her out of the blue.

“Who, Bill?” She looked over at him with her eyebrows knitted together and he took a glimpse over at her.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she began, “I mean, you were sitting right there when I called Chuck and told him what was going on.”

“Pff, how could I forget? But what I'm asking is—is there like a time limit with him? Like you signed a marriage contract plus a prenup but surely someone over at the school has to figure that out at some point because it's totally illegal. Setting you up like that and forcing you into something that you had no desire to get into and then threatening a whole bunch of bullshit with you like locking you in your room and forbidding you from going out and visiting people.”

“Well, when I first came out here and I spoke to Marla over the phone—you know, she's been trying to get a job and she finally did with Belinda up in Albany. But she went to the school and she told them that he was still on the payroll. He got fired, Louie, but there was some weird glitch of some sort so he still got paid and he got paid a lot of money, too. So he was able to afford that large house and care for his daughters, such that he enlisted them in a private school.”

“So he loses his paycheck, he's fucked, basically,” he followed along.

“Yeah. Unless he got something to help him out when we weren't looking, he's probably got to pull the girls out of school and sell the house.”

“And what happens to you if and when that happens?” he asked her.

“I—” She froze. Louie glanced over at her with his eyebrows raised. “I—don't know. Oh, wait!” She snapped her fingers.

“What's that?”

“My mom's moving down to the Southland soon. Where exactly is another question, though. She might be going out to Catalina or she might be going to San Pedro, I dunno.”

“Or you can go back to Joey,” he pointed out. “You know, make things easier on your mom. It's another cross country, for sure, but I feel it'd be more beneficial to take that risk again and go with him rather than put extra pressure on your mom like that. But that's my opinion, though. You do whatever you want.”

“There should be a way to null it, too,” she added.

“Yeah, being in a car with another dude,” he joked, and that brought a laugh out of her.

Within time, signs for the interchange came into their view and Louie took the next exit which looped around and met up with the Pacific Coast Highway. Right as they matched up with the pavement, the clouds over them swirled about like the old feathers or the wisps of paint mixed into the wash for a watercolor project. She looked out to the low hills off to the right, all of them different shades of green and yellow. All of them still that rich green despite the late summer. All of them still rich dark green despite the yellow dead grass everywhere. The clouds overhead beckoned rain but at the same time waned away from the coast line.

Such a strange position to be in as was the state of California, but that pocket there, the hills that followed her and Louie all along the highway on that lengthy seven hour drive, reminded her of that special place.

The quiet place. The spot that she and Charlie had found together and the place where she and Joey visited during their final days together.

“This is almost like the precious part of California,” she noted aloud.

“Nah, the eastern Sierra is the precious part of California in my opinion,” he said. “There's something lonely and ancient about the eastern Sierra Nevadas.”

“This whole area here reminds me of a place that Charlie and I found together when they were making the Stormtroopers of Death album,” she followed up.

“Really?”

“It was like this little nook in the trees down the street from the studio,” she explained as she returned her attention to him. “We called it 'the quiet place' because you go in there and it's like completely untouched in comparison to everything else. You walk down the street and you have to duck underneath the trees as you're going in there.”

“Sounds like something you keep a secret,” he remarked.

“I told Joey about it, though,” she told him. “I imagine upstate being covered in places like that.”

“Places you go to that no one else knows about,” he followed along. “This part of California and the eastern Sierra is like that, too. Lots of nooks and crannies and what have you. Like there's a place outside of Salinas—I'll have to show it to you when we get there. It's closer to Monterey Bay, though, which means we'll have to leave this highway, though.”

“It's okay—it'll get us over to the ocean.”

“The ocean makes everything better,” he remarked.

The highway took them down past Morgan Hill and then Gilroy: at one point the road turned towards Monterey Bay; off in the distance loomed those cold dark gray waters that seemed to stretch on forever. The view enlarged as they came closer and closer to the next turn off and the 156: Louie told her it would take them to Highway 1, which would in turn take them to the place he had in mind. At that point, the clouds increased and everything grew dark despite it being almost ten o'clock in the morning.

“While we're over here, you don't mind spending a little money for breakfast, do you?” he asked her at one point.

“Not at all. I was just gonna ask you if you're hungry at all.”

He showed her a grin in response, and then he pointed out the windshield to the next sign up ahead: the town of Castroville as well as the turn off to Highway 1.

“So anyway, this place—it's over by the Salinas River, which eventually heads out to the ocean,” he explained. “When I first met Zelda, and I was waffling on if I wanted to go with her or stay with my concurrent girlfriend and our baby, I always came here. It always helped me clear my head to drive down here when the baby fell asleep and Zelda was back in Rhode Island. I remember staying down here for a full afternoon once. Like I didn't get back home until well after the sun went down. Needless to say, I almost got in trouble for that.”

She laughed at that, and he gave his long smooth hair a little toss back from his face and the side of his neck.

“And the highway will take us all the way down the coastline, too. Take us down to Big Sur and all around the coast, all the way down to San Simeon and Cambria, and then Morro Bay, and then that'll take us over to San Luis Obispo and that's where we meet up with 101 again.”

“And that'll take us all the way back to L.A., too.”

He nodded his head at that, and then Sam cleared her throat.

“I don't think I get Alex,” she confessed.

“A lot of people don't,” he assured her with a straight face.

“It's funny, he said the exact same thing to me,” she recalled. “Word for word.”

“Well, because it's true! A lot of people don't get Alex. That kid is a bundle of contradictions, many of which are not for the faint of heart. I've only known him for a few years but can confirm that, though. And what's mind blowing to me is he's completely aware of it, too. I remember the first time I got into an in-depth conversation with him a few years ago when Testament first formed and we were still Legacy. Sam, I never had such a worse headache.”

“Well, like. For example, when we were in Germany and he and I spent a whole day together—”

“And he missed the train?” he finished for her. “Chuck told me.”

“Yeah, he missed the train and he got upset with me when I tried to grab his attention and get him to come onboard. Then the fireball happened and he realized the error of his ways and we patched it up. And then, you know last night, he opened up the wound over Cliff with me.”

“The fireball happened and what exactly did he do there?”

“I put my arms around him and held him close to me,” she explained. “Wept like a baby right into my chest.”

“He probably liked to feel your chest,” he pointed out.

“What makes you think that?”

“Sam—he's nineteen, soon to be twenty. When I was nineteen, that was all I ever thought about were touching and feeling boobs and clits. We're horny bastards at that age, and I would imagine that he is especially, too. Alex is bit of a nerd—it's the whole thing about how girls don't really talk to nerds.”

“But he's a guitar player, though. I would imagine the girls getting all hot and bothered to guitar players.”

“Not Alex and not our crowds, no. He's like the thinking man's guitarist. I'm sure you've seen him before a television.”

“Oh, yeah, he's all over news reports whenever they come on. Well, I was with you guys in Boston and he and Greg were right before the TV in the room there.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! But still—at the end of the day, even with his large brain and social scientist parents, he's still a guy. And he probably wanted to feel something soft and warm and comfy.” Louie glimpsed over at her. “You said he was scared, right?”

“Yeah. It was right when that big fireball went up. He just—came over to me and burst into tears at the sight of it. I held him so close to me and I let him weep into my chest.”

“Well—if you see him next time, really pay attention to his behavior towards you,” he advised her. “If he's actually sincere with you, then it's probably because he's confused and his inexperience is showing. If not, like if he gets close to you again, then don't bother with him for a second longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I'm saying is he either wants you for you or he's using you,” he explained. “I wish I could tell you more about it, but I'm not Alex, though. I can only tell you what I know from being in between two women for a couple of years.” He shook his hair again and then raked his fingers through one side: outside, the signs for Castroville emerged from the scraggly shrubs on either side of the road.

“I imagine him being soft and sweet, though,” he confessed in a low voice, such that it took her aback to hear that.

“Is—there something about him that you see with him?” she sputtered out as she took a glimpse over at him with a bewildered look on her face. Louie bowed his head and cleared his throat.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said as he leaned his head closer to her.

“Okay.”

“Does it bother you at all—” She could tell that he chose his words with care. “—when a guy finds another guy attractive and it's obvious he's not gay at all?”

She opened her mouth to say something to that, but no sound came out.

“Take as much time as you need to answer that, too,” he assured her, “—I asked Zelda this once and she really had to think about it.”

She thought of all the times that she made art while in class, and she thought of the time that she drew Marla in her journal. It wasn't until she really got to know Marla as well as Belinda when she began to see them as a couple of beautiful women. Indeed, as she thought about their willingness to help her out even while she had posted up out on the West Coast, the more she wondered if the whole thing extended further than their smooth New Yorker skin. Further than Marla's colorful hair and further than Belinda's soft doll like features. There was something more to Alex, much like there was something more to Louie in the seat there next to her, and there had to be something more to herself as well. More to them all, and the fact that she and Louie both had a quiet place, a place where they went that fell on blind eyes, was enough to give her a clue.

The hidden spots and everything in between. It was only the beginning.

And thus it only made sense to her to realize that it resided with everyone, including Alex himself.

“No,” she replied after a long while. “No, it doesn't bother me at all.”

“Okay,” Louie proclaimed as they rolled into Castroville. “Sometimes I look at Alex and I think, 'god, he's a really beautiful boy. I imagine being the perfect cuddler, like he must be adept to snuggling and feeling soft underneath a bunch of blankets.' Not necessarily sexy, although he does have a nice chest and thighs.”

“Nice arms, too,” she said in a soft voice.

“Yeah, he's got those really lanky strong guitar player arms.”

“Hey, you've got nice arms, too, Lewis,” she declared.

“Drummer arms.” He shook his right elbow about: his muscles were tight and sinewy.

“Reminds me of Joey's arms,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, that's right! He's a drummer, too.”

“Drummer and a hockey player.”

Louie took the first exit off into that small town and Sam volunteered to buy the both of them cups of coffee and a couple of scones for themselves: she took a chocolate one where he took a peach one for himself.

Within time, they climbed back into the car and Louie guided her over to the spot in question, right down by the Salinas River and where it widened out before it reached the ocean in small narrow fashion. It was there that the shades of yellow that followed them out of the Bay Area returned to that rich dark green that reminded her of New York. The space in the forest outside of the studio where she and Charlie ventured to together, and then she and Joey visited under a blanket of pure white snow.

“We all have a quiet place,” she declared.

“We really do,” Louie said as he sipped on his coffee.

“We all have a house and a home, even if it isn't physical,” she said.

“Yeah, we all have an attic. We all have secrets. We all have things that we show to everyone.”

“We all have things that we've buried—skeletons in the closet,” she muttered.

“And we all have a quiet place,” he added with a raise of his eyebrows.

He took the next right turn, one that brought them down the Salinas River and away from civilization. All the while, the ponderosa pines stretched high up into the sky around them, all up into those low dark swirling clouds that enveloped them in a blanket of coziness. Soon, the pavement gave way to gravel and broken pieces of pavement itself; and every so often, Sam spotted a series of shrubs all over the places, shrubs with little light pink and pearly white flowers.

“The rhododendrons are still in bloom I see,” Louie remarked.

“I don't think I've actually seen those before,” she confessed; the whole scenery made her think of the hole in the wall back in Ithaca. “They only grow here on the coast and in northern Nevada, we have all manner of pines and trees but nothing like this, though. Nothing as delicate and fluffy as those, though.”

“You guys get oleanders down in the Southland. I've seen those a number of times, they're quite lovely.”

“Oh, yeah. Only drawback with oleanders is they grow like weeds down there. Which is absolutely amazing to me because they're very poisonous.”

“At least it's not strychnine,” he told her. “Strychnine or—better yet deadly nightshade.” And Joey entered her mind right as that final word left his lips. “I don't even know if strychnine grows out here,” he continued.

“Yeah, I don't know, either...” Her voice trailed off at that. She thought about Joey and what he was doing right at that moment. They were still touring over in Europe and they were about to drop their brand new album in the meantime as well. If nothing else when she got back to Lake Elsinore, she had to pick up a copy of that.

She would have to search about for that familiar lettering: she knew it when she saw it.

“There should be a garden somewhere,” he continued, “one full of poison plants.”

“The most dangerous garden in the world,” she declared.

“We should literally call it that.”

“'We'?”

“'They', I should say,” he corrected himself; before them, the little road led to that wide part of the river. Big lush ponderosas as well as oak trees with large wide green leaves the size of dinner plates and tall narrow trees with high canopies surrounded them.

“I was just gonna say—do you really wanna go there, Louie?”

“Unless you wanna.” He tugged on the parking lever and switched off the car. “I ain't gonna do it unless you want to do it.”

“We gotta be careful, though,” she pointed out.

“Oh, absolutely. That's something that's just not for the faint of heart. The quintessential declaration of 'you can look but don't touch'. Might wanna throw in a 'for the love of god' in there, too. 'You can look but for the love of god, do not touch.'”

“'Welcome to Shelley and Clemente's poison garden,'” she declared with a gesture of her hand, “the most dangerous garden on Earth. We've got everything from strychnine to belladonna to oleanders to—whatever else we can find. Have it all together under one umbrella. You and me—we could retire off the profits.”

“You think people would actually pay money to see that?” he asked her, stunned.

“Yeah. People pay money to see the weirdest shit, Louie.”

“Case in point!” He gestured to himself.

“You guys aren't weird,” she assured him.

“Yes, we are. We're as weird as weird can possibly be.” He sipped on his coffee a bit more and then he unbuckled his seat belt. “Anyways, this is where I come to clear my head. I call this place 'the end of the world' 'cause it's far removed away from anything. It's only ten miles back to Castroville but—still.”

They both climbed out of there in unison; Sam peered up to the gray sky overhead and she took in the smell of the salt as it filtered in through the trees before them. The Salinas River flowed right next to the small stretch of gravel and partially collapsed pavement.

“This is like the perfect place for a poison garden,” she told him as he led her to the soft dark river bank.

“Oh, yeah, this lush soil here. Look up the plants and see what kind of environment they thrive in.”

“I do know oleanders like heat,” she told him, “it's why they're everywhere in the L.A. area and in the south, too.”

“Have a special greenhouse for those guys,” he continued as he held his cup of coffee close to his chest. “Kinda clean up the pavement behind us a bit so—Skolnick can drive around on it on his—golf—cart.”

“Shelley and Clemente's poison garden—featuring Alex Skolnick's golf cart.” She laughed at that and he laughed with her.

“Can you imagine Alex on a golf cart?” he asked her, and then he held out his arms, “'oh! Oh god! Oh god here we go!'” And he lowered his voice to where he almost matched Alex's tone.

“Four wheelin' on a golf cart,” she laughed some more.

“Hey, Alex! Take it easy, little man!” Louie lowered his voice to a near whisper. “There's stuff in here that'll kill you faster than you can say your middle name!” He shook his head and chuckled some more, and then he took another sip of his coffee.

“So what's the quiet place like?” he asked her as they neared the river's edge.

“In upstate?”

“Yeah.”

“It's about like this, without the river, of course. There was another spot that Joey and I went to when Stormtroopers were in Ithaca a few summers ago—right by the water's edge at the one lake—one of the Finger Lakes that's there. It kind of reminds me of that, like I'm getting the same feeling as that.”

They stopped at the water's edge and Sam leaned out a little bit for a view beyond the trees. The stretch of rich black and gray that was the Pacific Ocean, a mere stone's throw up ahead of them. Even though Louie had a different opinion, Sam couldn't help but feel that there was something prehistoric about this part of the river; something precious and untouched.

“Sometimes, when it's a bit sunnier out,” he started again, “I'll kneel down to the waters here and search around for insects and rocks and stuff. There's a lot of bizarre life here that's endemic only to this part of the river and as far as I know, the whole state.”

“Kind of like a 'keep it forever' sort of thing,” she noted.

“Exactly, right. Keep this whole place hidden away from the world so as to protect it from everything and everyone. Eastern Sierra is the same way. Exact same way.” He sipped on his coffee once again.

“C'mon, I think it's gonna rain—I feel it.”

They returned to the car and sure enough, as Louie fired it up again and they made a turn back at the dead end and proceeded back up the pavement, the first large drops of rain pattered on the roof and the windshield. It would be some time before they reached the Highway 1 once again, but once they did, Sam wondered as to how far they could go without seeing another sliver of civilization between Monterey Bay and the next spot on the coast.

To the left of them stood the high sea cliffs in all their withered and eroded glory, strong and high over their heads, much stronger and higher than the buildings back in New York City or Los Angeles or even San Francisco itself. To the right stood the ocean: the gray and black waters that went on forever into the horizon. Empty and cold, and cradled by the clouds over them. Everything gray and black.

Every so often, Sam peered down to the waves down below as they crashed on the rocks. She looked to the left once again: every so often in the cliffs, a minute ponderosa jutted out from the cracks as if it gasped for the fresh oceanic air. The coast line seemed to stretch on for infinity before them. She glanced over at Louie and the serene expression on his face.

He was her drummer in that moment.

She turned her attention back out to the ocean beyond them as they went around a corner. Maybe it was the lack of anything discernible on the cliffs or the fact that the ocean appearead so endless beyond them, but something about all of this made her squirm in her seat.

Louie's occasional peers down to the gages behind the steering wheel didn't help, either.

An eternity in such a small pocket of the coastline. They really were at the end of the world.

A sign emerged on the side of the road but she had no idea what it read.

“We probably should've stopped for gas in Castroville,” he told her at one point.

“Why, are we low?” she asked him as her heart skipped a beat.

“Sorta. I hope. I don't really know the economy on this thing—I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing.”

They rounded another corner and Louie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel: that time they had a full view of the ocean. The grand view of the waves as they welcomed her to the end of the world, and they were about to run out of gas as far as she knew right then.

Another sign emerged from behind the guard rail and that time she saw that they were ten miles from the central part of the coast.

“Mother fucker!” he spat under his breath.

“It's okay—we're almost to San Simeon,” she told him.

“Yeah, I know—I'm still kicking myself, though. We'll probably gonna coast there the rate we're going at right at the moment.”

“Seriously?” she demanded, shocked.

“Yeah!”

She closed her eyes and she thought of Joey over in Europe. The only thing that seemed worse than losing Cliff to a bus accident that was far beyond her control was her being stranded on the Central California coast and not being able to tell anyone. But then again, they were close to the next piece of civilization.

“As long as we don't drive into the ocean, I think we'll be fine,” she told him.

“We don't drive into a—poison garden,” he muttered as they went around yet another bend in the road: the cliffs soon began to lower away to the sight of more ponderosas and scraggly shrubs.

“There's no poison gardens here,” she assured him.

“You sure? 'Cause like—there's a bend here—and another here—it's like this.”

They rounded a corner as it wound around the coastline: the road dipped inward into a gentle curve and they doubled back to the next crevice in the landscape.

“Sit—” He pointed to the left. “—down—” He pointed to the right. “—sit—down—sit—down—poison garden.” He pointed straight ahead at that last part and she chuckled at that.

Sure enough, the car sputtered a bit right outside of San Simeon: Hearst Castle rose up off in the distance but they had no time to visit right at that moment.

“Told ya we'd have to coast,” he told her as he guided the car to the gas station right there at the edge of town. The engine sputtered again and died right as they coasted into the first spot near the driveway. He let out a low whistle and leaned back in his seat.

“That was close,” she remarked.

“Yeah, I'll say,” he breathed, and then he turned his attention to her. “A twenty'll get us to the heart of Lost Angles and it'll get me up the Grapevine and into the Central Valley.”

“You're not gonna hang out there with me?”

“I can't,” he told her. “We're supposed to make a new album ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” She handed him a twenty dollar bill, followed by another which would ensure him a ride back home to the Bay Area.

Once they were filled up, they returned to the road.

“I don't know if Hearst Castle is even open,” Louie confessed.

“I don't, either. It's getting kind of late in the day, too.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

Some more coastline and they found their way down into Solvang and then San Luis Obispo where they were met with the Pacific Coast Highway yet again, and they moved away from the end of the world. So much that she wanted to show to Joey. And so much that she wished Cliff could see again, especially that one stretch of the highway where everything felt so finite and endless at the same time.

They wound their way through the low foothills and yet another unknown pocket of California, until they skirted the outside of Santa Barbara followed by Carpinteria.

The waves down below thrashed even more as they wound along the cliffs towards Ventura. At that point, the sky began to darken with the setting sun on the other side of the blanket of clouds overhead.

“Part of me wants to go down to the beaches here,” Louie confessed to her. “Like—take a walk on one of the beaches here. Yet another thing I wanted to do with Zelda when we were together.”

“We don't have towels, though,” she pointed out.

“And it's cold, too!”

“Right!”

The highway led them into Camarillo and then the heart of Los Angeles, where it ended and became the 210. At that point, night was about to fall over them, and the feeling of dread washed over Sam herself. She knew that Bill would be furious by the mere sight of her walking through that front door without any sort of explanation.

Louie drove them down to Corona and then the hills which cradled Lake Elsinore away from the rest of the region. The clouds had finally dissipated and gave way to a violet and orange sky overhead. Such a great length of time to be in that car with him and a part of her wished they had more time.

More time together. More time to relish over the idea of the poison garden.

But that time was all they had right then and there, much like that stretch of highway that overlooked the ocean.

She guided him to the house by the lake and within time, she recognized the neighborhood in question.

He pulled up to the curb and she sighed through her nose at the realization. Her head spun a bit from having driven such a great distance but at least they could come to a stop on a steady piece of ground. She looked on at the house, with its windows dark and the shades pulled despite the fact that it wasn't that late in the evening.

“Do you need any help?” he offered her, to which she shook her head. Instead, she sighed through her nose again and she climbed out to fetch her things out of the back seat. She decided to give her mother a ring later that night when Bill and the girls had gone to bed, that is if they already did. She hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder and she held her purse close to her body as she reached the driver's side window. He rolled it down so she could speak to him one last time.

“Louie?”

He leaned closer to the window with his eyebrows raised.

“Thank you,” she said to him in a soft voice, and he showed her a sweet smile.

“It's my pleasure,” he told her with a wink. “Poison garden.”

“Poison garden,” she echoed him with a smile on her face.

“Also—”

She stopped and he gestured for her to come on closer to him.

“Don't worry, I'll—I'll talk to him,” he vowed to her.

“Who?”

“You know. The little man.”

“Oh, him!” She stopped right in her tracks. “What for?”

“Just to see if he's alright. One thing I've noticed about him when he fucks up something—he's real hard on himself. So if it's kinda messed between the two of you, I'll check in on him. I'll check in on him anyways.”

“Good plan,” she told him. “You be safe going back up, alright?”

“You be safe, too. Poison garden!”

Sam stepped away from the car and she turned back to the house, still in one place. Louie drove away right then and he disappeared around the corner. Another seven hours and he'd be back up there. She returned to the front door of the house and she opened it with ease. Silence.

She knew that he wouldn't do it. Sam shook her head and she bowed upstairs to her room.

#fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 11 #book four #souls of black #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #testament fanfic #testament band #testament #louie clemente #oc tag #long reads #friendship #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #slice of life #writing #text

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