wendy-of-wendy-city

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the gravity falls cosplay group i went with to mccc! my dad as grunkle stan, my mom as lazy susan, my bro as dipper, my uncle as soos, and his girlfriend as wendy. we got a lot of positive feedback and hopefully we can do this again! if you have any pictures of us please post them and tag me. :)

“Who’s Wendy?” Crawford asked.
“That hooker in the hall. The blonde with the chest. She’s been trying to see him. She doesn’t know anything.”
“Why don’t you let her in?” Graham said from the bedside. His back was to them.
“No visitors.”
“The man’s dying.”
“Think I don’t know it? I’ve been here since a quarter to fucking six o’clock—excuse me, Nurse.”
“Take a few minutes,” Crawford said. “Get some coffee, put some water on your face. He can’t say anything. If he does, I’ll be here with the recorder.”
“Okay, I could use it.”
When the detective was gone, Graham left Crawford at the bedside and approached the woman in the hall.
“Wendy?”
“Yeah.”
“If you’re sure you want to go in there, I’ll take you.”
“I want to. Maybe I ought to go comb my hair.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Graham said.
When the policeman returned, he didn’t try to put her out.
—  Red Dragon
9

Jaime King / more on my Livejournal :
http://entrance-icons.livejournal.com/jaimeking

Three Sides to the Story

Summary: When Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel dies three of the women in his life reflect on their relationships with him.

A/N: I’m nervous how this turned out. I haven’t wrote a fic in years but do write my own original novels (they’re on Amazon & Lulu).  I used to write fics all the time for LOST, Buffy, The West Wing, and have others I never posted for Once Upon a Time and others.  I couldn’t get this idea out of my head (even at work LOL) so I wrote it.  Turned out a bit longer and I did add in some things that might not be the truth but in some cases we don’t know for sure how it really was.  Guess they counts as my first historical fiction short story since it’s not really based on the “Boardwalk Empire” or “Mob City” versions of Benny. Hope you enjoy.


Till Death Do Us Part – Esta

After she finally got the girls to go to bed and walked into their living room Esta Siegel took a deep breath, slowly looking around the room.  It was still the same as before the divorce, almost as if Benjamin was going to walk in any second and tell her it was all a bad dream.  He was fine, had changed his mind after realizing his ways, and was home for good.  It was such a foolish thing to think, but him being alive would’ve been better than this.  Her ex-husband and father of her children was murdered.  The girls, especially Millicent, were taking it so hard.  Their oldest child becoming so angry that Esta saw a familiar look she saw countless times in Ben’s eyes flash in their daughter’s matching blue gaze, before it dissolved into tears.

There was always a fear of his death, knowing the work he and her brother were involved in.  Ben seemed to avoid it for so long that she almost thought maybe her fantasy wasn’t too far off from coming true.  They would be a family again.  However a cascade of bullets now ruined it.

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donutslacker did the thing.

            “Dude, do you just hang out and eat free donuts all day?”

             Forget lifeguard duty – free donuts are where it’s at. She
             wonders if she’d be allowed to wear her regular plaid shirt
             over the uniform shirt if she worked here. Some might say
             that purple and teal don’t belong together; to that, Wendy
             will argue that everything looks good with a donut on it.

Wendy on Wendy

Dancer, writer and educator Wendy Perron shares her introductory remarks for Danspace Project’s 40th Anniversary Gala honoree Wendy Whelan.

“Fifteen years ago, I was watching a Balanchine piece at New York City Ballet. It was not one of my favorite Balanchines. I do love some of his ballets, but this one was orderly and symmetrical and courtly. And then this wind blew through the stage, rustling up the air and changing everything. The wind was Wendy Whelan.

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There I was on the metro, trying to think of nice things. Fred2, two lousy people having a great time together. Yeah, that’s great. I love it. They’re so cute and fashionable. I can imagine them giving each other pointers and making fun of the other for what they consider stylish.

Revisiting Red Dragon, I realized there will be no happiness in Hannibal. Freddy and Freddie having fun, going on dates, badda bing badda boom, Lounds gets her lips bitten off and up she goes in flames. Poor Chilton fucked up and alone once more, everything is taken away from him. I’m so upset! There is no safe ship in here, man.

Though, I do hope they give her her Wendy of Wendy city in the show. 

What about Alana, now? Bloom in the book is married. What if they marry her off by the Red Dragon half of the season? Will they kill her partner too?! 

They’re going to stab Will in the face, aren’t they? I just see it. And off goes Molly, she has to protect herself and her child, I don’t blame her. 

No happiness, only for Hannibal himself. Off to the Argentine pampas with his Clarice. And of course he would go to Argentina! 

As we say, Argentina is the most American country in Europe*. 

Red Dragon. Thomas Harris. Chapter 24.  [Excerpt.]


      Molly was gone.

       The day was over and there was only the night to face, and the lipless voice accusing him.

       Lounds’s woman held what was left of his hand until it was over.

“Hello, this is Valerie Leeds. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now …”

      “I’m sorry too,” Graham said.

      Graham filled his glass again and sat at the table by the window, staring at the empty chair across from him. He stared until the space in the opposite chair assumed a man-shape filled with dark and swarming motes, a presence like a shadow on suspended dust. He tried to make the image coalesce, to see a face. It would not move, had no countenance but, faceless, faced him with palpable attention.

      “I know it’s tough,” Graham said. He was intensely drunk. “You’ve got to try to stop, just hold off until we find you. If you’ve got to do something, fuck, come after me. I don’t give a shit. It’ll be better after that. They’ve got some things now to help you make it stop. To help you stop wanting to so bad. Help me. Help me a little. Molly’s gone, old Freddy’s dead. It’s you and me now, sport.” He leaned across the table, his hand extended to touch, and the presence was gone.

      Graham put his head down on the table, his cheek on his arm. He could see the print of his forehead, nose, mouth, and chin on the window as the lightning flashed behind it; a face with drops crawling through it down the glass. Eyeless. A face full of rain.

       Graham had tried hard to understand the Dragon.

       At times, in the breathing silence of the victims’ houses, the very spaces the Dragon had moved through tried to speak.

       Sometimes Graham felt close to him. A feeling he remembered from other investigations had settled over him in recent days: the taunting sense that he and the Dragon were doing the same things at various times of the day, that there were parallels in the quotidian details of their lives. Somewhere the Dragon was eating, or showering, or sleeping at the same time he did.

       Graham tried hard to know him. He tried to see him past the blinding glint of slides and vials, beneath the lines of police reports, tried to see his face through the louvers of print. He tried as hard as he knew how.

       But to begin to understand the dragon, to hear the cold drips in his darkness, to watch the world through his red haze, Graham would have had to see things he could never see, and he would have had to fly through time …