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inquisitor-of-hearts · 4 months ago

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Strictly Professional

Rafe Adler/Nadine Ross

Out of the blue Nadine gets contacted by a potential client, Rafe Adler. She decides to hear him out.

Spoilers for Uncharted 4.

Rating: Teen/Mature

Word Count: 1,855

Note: Been having that itch to write them as they slowly grew on me (Nadine anyway, slow burn for me), then all of a sudden they were in my head. Might be continued but not sure yet.

“Nadine”

The woman whose name was called looked up. There had been a knock at her office door beforehand but the man had opened the door quietly, not waiting for an answer. Possibly knowing it would be in vain.

“That… client is here.”

She leaned back in her seat.

“I’m coming.”

The man nodded, left the door ajar a little before retreating. Nadine closed the open documents on her laptop and put the device to rest. With the blinds lowered, the striped shadows cast in the dark wooden interior and highlighted the dust particles in the stale air. Casually Nadine’s hand grabbed the handgun and secured it in her holster, attached to her belt at her back. From the chair she took her dark-green light-weight jacket and pulled it over, concealing her waist just enough.

The strikingly light pair of eyes made her stop in her tracks. He had just put down one of the pamphlets from the side table and now greeted her with the hint of a smile. He sure had that sleaze of an American businessman.

“Nadine Ross.” he spoke slowly and deliberately, a hint of admiration and respect in his tone, but yet this same sleaze that she could sense earlier now also present in his gaze.

“That’s me.” she confirmed as she walked up to him. “Rafe Adler, I take it.”

“Yes… You recognize my voice. Or did you do a background check on me?”

Nadine let out a condescending chuckle. They had talked on the phone beforehand of course, getting an impression of each other before they decided to meet and work together. But she would have recognized him regardless. His demeanour was not typical for the people here, it was clear he was an outsider.

“You know, I did.” she confessed, “Part of the job actually. I’m sure you did your check on me as well. Must have been thorough. Otherwise why fly all the way here?”

South Africa was not particularly known for the best private military groups, although the continent itself surely could easily blur political lines that were crossed. And hiring internationally always came with benefits when things unexpectedly took a wrong turn. But Nadine’s instincts were not playing tricks on her. There was countless other companies he could choose to hire.

“Seems safer than the rest of the continent.” He shrugged nonchalantly, turning from the side table with the pamphlets towards her. “And believe it or not, your reputation precedes you.”

“You mean my father’s reputation.”

“Let’s not split hairs; your family’s reputation. Shoreline’s reputation.”

Nadine yielded visibly, her posture relaxing.

“Where are my manners. Would you like some coffee or tea? You must be tired from the trip. And we have lots of details to discuss.”

“You’re right.” Rafe nodded, sucking in his bottom lip for a moment. He looked away, then watched her again. A predator’s gaze no doubt, his head lowered, the sea in his eyes swallowing her.

“What is it?” She asked unprompted, sensing the hesitation.

“I was more thinking dinner, if you don’t mind.”

Nadine was about to cough up a laugh but she held back.

“A bit early, don’t you think? But no, I don’t mind.”

“Great. I saw a spot on the way here but if you have any suggestions, let me know. I’m open.”

Nadine shifted, her gaze wondering towards her office. The door was closed. Some of her men would be around until later anyway.

“Alright, sure. Why not.”

What did she have to lose after all? And that guy came all the way here. She looked around and caught one of her men’s gazes.

“Hey, I’ll be back in an hour or so. Would you keep track of any calls that come in?”

“Sure, boss.”

“Thanks. Won’t be long.” Then she hesitated, looking at her client again. “One second.”

Returning to her office, she grabbed her wallet and then closed the door behind her, showing the visitor the way out.

“Well, I can now say the trip here was worth it, even just for the authentic local cuisine. And the company.”

He spoke with such a calm tone that Nadine found it hard to believe his nationality, but the persistent sleaze in business talks gave him away after all, even if he did not lay it on too thick. Ironically that was the intriguing part.

“So? Why Shoreline?” Straight to point, as she licked the rest of the dessert off her spoon.

The man chuckled.

“That’s charming. A real business woman.”

“Just don’t want you to underestimate me.”

“I assure you I wouldn’t.” Rafe insisted softly.

A second of silence, then he pulled out a few pictures. Nadine stretched towards him, the dessert spoon placed down on the empty plate as she tried to catch a glimpse. But in a change of heart Rafe put the pictures face down.

“You already know what I want. But I need confidentiality.”

“Of course.” Nadine replied calmly to the grave tone. “You want security and protection. Fire power if needed?”

“Yes. Maybe more.”

“More? No arms dealing.”

“Of course not.” he reassured.

She knew she had to put her boundaries down first, especially with Americans, and especially with men. They always tried to push her. But this was the one thing she was not doing anymore. Not now that she was in charge of the company.

“No arms dealing.” He repeated her words for emphasis. “Worst case though, some other parties could get involved.”

“Other parties? Who?”

“Ah, don’t worry too much about it.” He waved it off. “I just had to mention it. Security is one thing but with the sums I am dealing with I have people targeting me every now and then.” “Oh I wouldn’t doubt it.” she followed up. “So what about those other parties? They are actively involved in your affairs?”

“In my affairs, yeah” he chuckled a little, nodding. There was something about him, some ruthlessness that Nadine could not quite pinpoint. She was used to ruthlessness, and his kind of course, but he had a certain aura. A sort of dangerous charm. Calm and collected but -- as if she never knew what was behind all that.

“Let’s just say the object I want to acquire is of immense historical worth. And monetary worth of course. There’ll be an auction in a few weeks.”

“An auction?” The dark-skinned woman laughed. “That’s it? You need my security team for an auction?”

“Of course not. It’s all that follows after.”

She frowned, confused. Any security company in the States could have done that.

“What kind of auction? Is it rigged or something?”

“No-- well at least I hope it’s not.”

Nadine grinned, but frowned again.

“Look-- It’s more than that. But first I need your word on this staying between us. Your men will also know only as much as they need to know.”

“Of course. You have my word.” She promised, her features softening as she leaned back in her chair. “But I need to hear the whole story before I agree on it.”

Nadine’s instincts had told her to stay out of it. Yet against her better judgement she had brought the man back to her office after he had let her in on her plan and insisted on paying for the dinner. The door behind them had been closed. Nadine leaned back against her desk, her fingers grasping onto to wood on either side of her hips. Rafe took a step closer towards her, softly running his hand along her underarm until it reached her hand. She did not resist. Smoothly he brought her hand towards his lips, kissing the back of it.

“Never quite met a woman like you.” he whispered.

A shiver ran down her spine. She knew there was something else. It was not just her company’s various activities, the pricing and the experience in treasure hunting missions, as Rafe had put it. She knew there was some further links to her background or the company’s background that he did not reveal. But as his hand lowered with hers and his thumb caressed the back of her hand again, she could not help it. A job was a job. He respected her boundaries and they had to take what they could get these days.

“There’s just--” Her voice broke in, slightly hoarse. She cleared her throat, almost embarrassed but managed to cover it up. Or so she thought, until she saw that grin on his lips.

“Yes?” he asked gently, still holding onto her hand loosely at the level of her hip.

“Just one thing.” She looked away deliberately for a second, gathering her thoughts. Then, expectantly, she met his gaze again. “Why would you buy it from the auction? I know you obviously don’t have any concerns about money but it would be much cleaner if we stole it. You talked about those other people that could get involved. Going undercover and having my men steal it would be a much safer route. That way it would not even have to be at the auction, we could catch it beforehand. Easy, conflict-free. Well, mostly conflict-free.”

“Mostly” he chuckled. “It’s an idea, I’ll give you that.”

Nadine gauged his reaction. There it was, that something he was not telling her. The hesitation.

“I want to pull this off as clean as possible. I have a reputation that I do not want tarnished.” he spoke clearly, almost in a commanding tone but still calm.

“I understand.” Although Nadine could tell there was something else, she could not insist at this moment. She had nothing to bargain with and she could not pin him down. Not-- figuratively at least.

“So let’s do it as planned. We’ll have your men on the site. Oh and-- as for you. Would you accompany me? You don’t need anything too fancy but the dress code is business formal.”

Nadine pulled her hand away and laughed. It only took a split second for that laugh to get stuck in her throat as she noticed the man in front of her remained unfazed.

“You’re-- you’re serious?”

“Absolutely. We’re partners now, right?”

She frowned, but a smile came past her lips involuntarily.

“Right… ”

“If you don’t have anything of that sort, we could get you something before the day of the event.”

Nadine shook her head, grinning.

“Please. You underestimate me. I have something to wear, don’t worry. It’ll do the trick.”

Besides, how strange would it be to have this man she barely knew go pick out some clothes for her. With her even, if that was what he meant. Like she was Cinderella invited to a ball. She straightened up and chased the thought away.

“This is professional though, right?”

“Of course. All professional. We agreed upon the payment, plus extra expenses covered if anything comes up.” Rafe reaffirmed, taking a step back, although just barely. As if he had a hard time letting go.

Nadine still watched him with curiosity. Getting involved with this man was like playing with fire. The fancy sort of fire at a cocktail party.

#their backstory #during uncharted 4 #filling the gaps #rafe adler x nadine #canon compliant #uncharted fanfiction #uncharted fanfic #character study ?#i guess

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saintmeghanmarkle · 2 years ago

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AITA for teaching my in-laws a lesson? by u/Annabelle-Sunshine

AITA for teaching my in-laws a lesson? I met my husband a few years ago. It was love at first sight. We got engaged and married shortly after that. Here’s where things started to go wrong.My husband’s family runs a successful business. Because of this, they paid for the wedding. I didn’t want my family to attend. Of course, I’m special but I’m not a fan of my family. My dad raised me but he’s overweight, so I didn't want him to come. Imagine how they photos would look? Instead I ignored him until he got the hint. I didn’t book a flight or tell him about the wedding. He’s never spoken to my fiancee. I’d worry over what he might say. My ruse worked. He got the hint and we haven’t spoken since. Mission accomplished.After the wedding, I worked in the family business. My in-laws set me up to fail. They assigned me a team of people. But they were all sub-par. When I emailed them, I had to wait hours or even days for a reply. When I shouted at the employees, they said they don’t reply to emails during the weekend. Lazy ingrates. I was working my ass off, and they couldn’t even reply to emails.My sister-in-law and grandmother-in-law gave out to me about how I speak to staff. They're obviously racist. That's the only explanation. It also explains why the employee in Australia cried when I threw a cup at him. He started it by staring at me.The employees kept quitting. One by one, they left in tears. They called me a bully. But I think it's because they didn't want to look at me. I'm bi-racial. My husband's family live in a country with a cold climate. Their pasty skin has not seen sunshine. They all have scurvy. Seeing the exotic glow of my tanned skin was too much for them. They quit so they could spend more time eating oranges.I had to go on international trips as part of the role. Everything was paid for by the family. But they didn’t pay me any extra for attending. I selflessly promoted the family firm overseas, why wasn’t I paid?I had to sleep in crappy housing units. We went to Syndey and stayed in Admiralty house. We only had a wing to ourselves. We had to share the house with other people. It was dehumanizing.They sent us to South Africa. We had to mix with poor people. It was disgusting. They hadn't even heard of Brazilian Blowouts.After that, we decided to take an extended paid vacation. My husband and I quit our jobs without notice and moved away. They gave us some money. Just a few million, even though I worked there for 30 days. They’re so stingy.We needed to make money. So we’ve been selling stories about them to all who will listen. After that, they still haven’t apologized.We went back there to attend a family funeral and they ignored us. They’re so petty. We wanted to get more information and stories to sell. They didn’t even give us one. It’s like they want to destroy us, by not letting us sell them out anymore.I know I’m not the asshole, they are. So my question is, how do I get back at those assholes?NoteI'm reposting this by popular demand. I didn't get satisfactory answers the first time so I thought I'd ask again. post link: https://ift.tt/r8y5nwO author: Annabelle-Sunshine submitted: November 29, 2023 at 02:12PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

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cleverhottubmiracle · 4 months ago

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This week marks 12 years of living on and working from the road for travel journalist Karen Catchpole. One of the founders of Sassy and a former editor at Jane, Tell and Shop Etc. magazines during publishing’s boom times, Karen and her husband, photographer Eric Mohl, packed up their Manhattan apartment in the wake of September 11, 2001, hoping to find their place in a world turned upside-down. That’s when they took off on the Trans-Americas Journey, their 200,000-mile road trip through North, Central and South America. From wherever their Chevy Silverado is parked at the moment (right now, that’d be Bolivia) the two explore on a deeper level than any vacation could ever allow. They also freelance, sometimes together, for the likes of Travel+Leisure, National Geographic Traveler, Every Day with Rachael Ray, Elle, WSJ Magazine, Slate.com and loads more. In her exclusive interview with Bare Necessities, find out why this Power Figure took a leap of faith to reprioritize her entire life, and learn how she keeps on keeping on more than a decade into an epic adventure with no end in sight. Q: How did this trip of a lifetime come to be?A: My husband and I spent years backpacking through Asia together in the back half of the 1990s. That’s when we realized this new thing called the Internet allowed us to work from anywhere, and it was a big part of our inspiration: to turn our love of travel into a way of life by finding a way to take our careers on the road. Originally, we were planning to work and travel through Africa. Then the attacks of September 11 happened. We lived three blocks from the World Trade Center in New York then, and we’d recently spent time traveling in Pakistan. So when the President climbed on the rubble in our backyard and started shouting about getting “them,” we were chilled. The country was changing. States were turning blue or red. We were confused. Then it occurred to us: Why do we always choose to explore so far from home? The United States was suddenly a foreign country to us, so we shifted our focus to the Americas, the continent, and it was just a short hop from there to decide that a road trip was the best way to do it. The Trans-Americas Journey was born. That “s” at the end of America is on purpose. Part of our point in a post 9-11 world is to reinforce the importance of global neighbors and the fact that everyone who lives in the Americas is American, not just those who hold a U.S. passport. Q: What did friends and family think, and how did you find the conviction to go through with it?A: After high school, I moved to Australia for a few years before returning the U.S. to start Sassy, so my friends and family were habituated to me spending long periods far away. Karen practicing her wrangling skills at the Atacama Rodeo in Chile I strongly believed that the concept [of this trip] was sound, my skills were up to the task, both as a traveler and as a journalist, and that it would work out. Just don’t ask me exactly how. Remember that in 2006, the term “digital nomad” hadn’t been invented yet. Hell, “digital” as we now know it barely existed. Blogs didn’t come into the mainstream until three years after our journey started. So there was some understandable angst about exactly how my grand plan was going to pan out. Over time, however, I proved that I could make it work—I haven’t starved to death yet, and the tank in our truck is currently full—so some of that angst has fallen away. And they see that I get to do cool things like visit the Galapagos Islands and Antarctica. It’s hard to argue with that. Q: What made you say yes to the unknown at such an uncertain time?A: Because we were already planning a long-term journey when the attacks happened, our concern about the after-effects on the character of our country was more than enough to prompt us to move forward. I believe that uncertain times are the best time to do stuff that upends your life. If you’ve already got to deal with chaos around you, you’re better prepared to handle whatever chaos you create for yourself. And isn’t the chaos you create better than the chaos imposed on you? Weirdly, there’s some control in that. In the dozen years or so since my journey began, things have gotten no more stable in the world around us. So, if you ask me, now is still a good time to do some upending in your own life. Q: What did you have to do to prepare? Did you have any idea what you were in for?A: That first backpacking trip taught me how to overcome the biggest hurdle: fear of taking the first step. The hardest thing about a project like this is time. To keep my career and the Trans-Americas Journey going is like having seven different jobs that all need to get done now: researching future travel, doing the travel and reporting at hand, finishing current assignments, pitching new ones, writing for our blog, trying to find the mental bandwidth to glean story-worthy facts and nuggets from it all and, oh, have a good time, too. Q: What does it take to keep going?A: Patience (working on it), tenacity (got plenty), thick skin (50/50), teamwork (I couldn’t do this alone, logistically or creatively), flexibility, optimism and time management. Anyone who thinks this is just a really long vacation is dead wrong. The Northern Lights as seen from Wood Buffalo National Park in Canada Q: When, if ever, will you know it’s time to stop?A: At one point, about four years into our Asia trip, there came a day in a hostel in Bangkok when I turned to Eric and said, “I just want a shelf to put some books on.” I knew I was done. We went back to New York City and, within a few months, I was in an office with a shelf to put books on. I haven’t hit that point yet and I have no way of knowing if, when or why I might. I go day by day. Mile by mile. Country by country. Also, I’m stubborn and I’d really like to see our goal through: “From the Arctic to Tierra del Fuego and back.” Q: Where is home now, and can you ever go back again?A: Home is still the United States and I could absolutely go back, but I’m not married to that. After so many years in Latin America, the way of life here is beginning to feel as much like home to me as the way of life in the U.S. When I return to see family and friends, I’m always relieved when I leave again. I’ve become comfortable with the more relaxed pace and laid-back attitude here, and I’m open to stumbling upon a place down here that becomes home. I half-jokingly say that part of this trip is all about discovering a horse ranch next to a winery that needs a helping hand. Q: Superlatives time! What’s been the hardest part? The easiest? The worst? The most surprising? The most awe-inspiring?A: The worst was having our side-view mirrors stolen in Mexico and a window of our truck smashed in Peru. So much of the journey involves meeting people who only want to do generous and helpful things for us. However, there have been very-extremely-really-rare-almost-never occasions when people have targeted us with theft in mind, and that always feels shocking and frighteningly personal. Many sacrifices were made in order to make the Trans-Americas Journey a reality. One of the hardest is that I don’t have a steady cast of friends around. Sure, we make friends on the road but, like Army brats, just when things are getting solid, we’re off to another destination. And despite trips back to see family, it gets harder and harder to be away from them. In terms of the biggest surprise, I was a bit afraid that the people I would meet along the way would look at me and the Trans-Americas Journey as some sort of privileged U.S. vanity project. I am privileged and I am from the U.S., but it’s no vanity project, and I work very, very hard for the privileges I have. Happily, everyone we’ve met along the way understands that, supports our efforts and appreciates the work we put into telling people about their corners of the world. The scariest time was waking up naked and disoriented in a shaking room during an earthquake in Chile. Oh, and so many bad roads in bad weather. Spying a wild jaguar in Pantanal, Brazil The freedom is the best part. If we like a place, we stay. If we don’t like a place, we leave. I’ve seen such awe-inspiring things as the northern lights in Canada, a jaguar in the wild, a crazy Chilean rodeo in the Atacama…shall I continue? Q: Having been on this odyssey so long, what’s changed about you? What have you learned?A: I don’t actually think travel changes you. I certainly wasn’t looking to change myself. I was looking to change the way I work, and to take more control over my career as my industry continued to atrophy. But that was the sum total of my goals, and I’ve achieved that, however clumsily, which feels like a personal triumph but not a personal transformation. I have learned that there’s a lot I can do without. That will happen when you spend more than a decade making do with what you can cram into the back of your truck. Turns out, you can cram a lot in and, honestly, there are still probably things I could get rid of. A blue-footed booby in the Galapagos Islands Q: What have you discovered about people and our world?A: It’s such a cliché, but we really are all pretty much the same. Deep down, we all want to be happy and healthy and have the rights and opportunities to achieve those basic goals. Most of us also want to do the right thing. In Brazil, a woman I barely knew saved my life. I was experiencing alarming pain in my abdomen while staying at her guesthouse. She escorted me to the local hospital at 11 PM to be sure I was cared for and to translate—I speak virtually no Portuguese, and the language is not just like Spanish no matter what anyone tells you. The inexperienced, ill-equipped staff at the hospital were baffled, but they sent me for ultrasounds and more tests the next day. My guardian angel accompanied me again. Still in pain, she then called in a favor with a gastroenterology professor, a colleague of her sister’s, in the nearest city. The doctor heard my symptoms and told us to come to him right away, so we drove for four hours. She remained with me in the operating room during my emergency appendectomy. She didn’t have to do any of that. There was nothing in it for her. She was just doing the right thing. Try to remember this whenever you’re tempted to focus on perceived differences between us, or some nebulous threat of ill will from a stranger. Q: What can others take away from your experiences?A: Try not to pack any preconceived notions about what your destination, its inhabitants, its food, its politics, etc. will be like. You are probably completely wrong, and you’ll waste days of your trip trying to shed those misconceptions so that you can see the true nature of the things you’ve left home to learn. THE WORLD ACCORDING TO KARENFavorite bra: This DKNY Liteware Convertible T-Shirt Bra is what I always look for. I travel with three bras. They’re all the same. They each need to be comfortable and versatile, so a T-shirt bra in a fleshy color is best because it can be worn under anything. I also like convertible straps for the rare occasions when I wear a racerback shirt.Happy place: On horseback.Greatest extravagance: Wine.Greatest strength: I’m a card-carrying type A control freak.Character flaw: I’m a card-carrying type A control freak.Best way to unwind: Wine.Current obsession: Learning to play polo in Argentina.Hidden talent: I flaunt them all.Impossible to resist: Wine.Most common refrain: “Pothole!”Favorite souvenir: Memories.If I weren’t a writer, I would be: Frustrated.Perfect day must contain: Wine.In a word: Determined. Source link

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norajworld · 4 months ago

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chilimili212 · 4 months ago

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wahlpaper · 2 years ago

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Review of Nate Plus One

Nate Plus One by Kevin van Whye

CW: Underage Drinking, Discussion of Sex, Non-Graphic/Undescribed Underage Sex Scene, Discussion of Child Death, Discussion of Apartheid/Systematic Racism & Oppression, Death of a Parent, Car Accident, Cheating, Ghosting, Homophobia, Homophobic Slur, Racism, Malicious Neighbor, Overworking, Betrayal, Intellectual Theft, Homophobic Parent/Boss, Classism, Hero Complex

4.5/5

Recently I found that I wasn't ready to start reading the big series I have planned for the year, His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman). I was also waiting on my holds and feeling inspired by the A-Z reading challenges. I don't want to commit to an actual a-z challenge right now either, so I decided to spell my first name! Nate Plus One by Kevin van Whye is the book I chose to fill the first "N" in HANNAH*. I'll admit that I only skimmed the blurb and thought I was getting a fake dating story, but this slow burn vacation book was still well worth the read. I'll be sure to read more of van Whye's books in the future!

Nate Hargraves is looking forward to starting his summer vacation with a trip to his rich cousin's wedding in South Africa, the place where his late father grew up. His mood is dampened when he finds out his mother won't be able to make it and that his ex will be in attendance. Thankfully, his best friend/secret crush, Jai Patel volunteers to go along. Jai also has a problem that Nate can help with. Jai is weeks away from a major Battle of the Bands when his lead singer leaves for another band, taking Jai's song with him. Nate may have stage fright, but he is a talented singer and is willing to step in. The first few weeks of summer won't be smooth, but they'll certainly be life changing.

I enjoyed the balance between cute fun things and serious emotional elements in Nate Plus One. On the surface, it's a sweet teen romcom taking place on the vacation of a lifetime. Having that be queer will always draw me in and warm my heart. Still, the book doesn't ignore who its main characters are or where the wedding is. Racism, class differences, homophobia, being raised by a single parent, and Apartheid are all addressed. Apartheid was surprisingly a topic that I was taught about in detail in school, but as Nate points out, it's important to learn about what you aren't taught in school. Van Whye focused on the Soweto Uprising, a horrible injustice against black African children that I can't recall ever having learned about before. He made space for all of these things and a love story in just over 250 pages. Nothing felt trivial or overpowering, impressively done.

I can still enjoy a romantic tale even if it feels illogical, underdeveloped, or left with unresolved unhealthy elements, but it always stands out to me when a fictional romance is very healthy and well written. I found the romantic, familial, and friendly love to all be very healthy in Nate Plus One. My biggest concern in a book is getting to the BIG FIGHT. It can easily be out of the blue or overdone. Instead, when Nate messes up, it's in a redeemable way, he owns up to it, Jai is not too quick to forgive him, and Nate finds the perfect way to make it up to him. We also get to see Nate interacting with family he doesn't see very often, and each interaction felt realistic. The moments he spent with his grandmother were especially touching. She helped Nate get in touch with his roots and paved the way for Nate and his mom to talk more openly about his father. Even the negative interactions with his homophobic uncle provided clarity for Nate. While I wouldn't say this book felt like a puzzle, no interactions or plot elements were wasted.

Kevin van Whye's Nate Plus One is a sweet, cute book that is likely to leave you wanting more. And if you were taken aback by the open ended ending like me, you'll be happy to hear that Jai's band, Infinite Sorrow, will be making a cameo in van Whye's next book. Whether you're looking for queer content or to learn more about South Africa from a unique perspective, this book will be a good read for you.

*Be on the lookout for a post about my challenge once it's complete!

#nate plus one #kevin van whye #bookblogger #book blog #queer books #queer characters #black characters #teen romance #summer vacation #friends to lovers #slow burn #south africa #soweto #book starts with n #book review

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

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When in Amsterdam

A one shot in the universe of ‘The Alluring Charm of Henry Cavill’

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park

Summary: Henry decides to surprise Adelaide with a trip to Amsterdam

Wordcount: 1k

Masterlist // January Masterlist

This is my first time in Amsterdam. I’m so grateful that Henry took me on this trip. We already went to his place in the UK, we spend some time in Jersey with his family. Since we were close by, he thought it would be a great idea to go to the Netherlands. We already visited the Hague and Rotterdam and now we spending the last few days here in Amsterdam, before we head to New York for filming my newest movie.

We went on an Amsterdam Canal Cruise, we visited Volendam for a picture in traditional costume (and laughed so hard when Henry walked in clogs) and ate way too many ‘stroopwafels’.

We are strolling over de Dam, but we quickly take a detour, because of the billion uncontrolled pigeons flapping around.

‘Henry,’ I say to him, when it’s a little less crowded.

‘Yes, my love.’

‘Thank you for this trip. I really like spending time with you, especially when we’re in another country.’

‘I love traveling with you,’ he says, squeezing comforting in my hand. ‘How about you and I travel the world together?’

Together… Being together with Henry, it’s time well spend. I love being around him and the time I’m not with him, I miss him so much. ‘Where do you want to go?’ I ask him.

‘I want to visit at least Australia, South-Africa and Brazil with you, but there are more places I want to go with you. How about you, sweetheart? Where do you want to go to?’

‘South Korea,’ I tell him. ‘With you and my parents, so you can meet some of my family. If you want to of course.’

‘I would love that.’ Henry stops walking, as we look out over a canal. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘I always enjoyed going to different places on my own or with friends, but traveling with you… It’s like a whole new world opened up for me. You are a great travel companion.’

My heart swells hearing those sweet words. ‘That’s oddly romantic.’

‘Why add the oddly?’ Henry asks, semi insulted. ‘I was being so insanely romantic and now you broke my heart with your oddly romantic.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Drama queen, you. But I do have to say… It’s sweet that you like traveling with me.’

‘Not just like. Love.’ He places on hand on the edge of the railing, as he wraps a strong arm around my shoulders. ‘I’m so lucky to have such a fun traveling partner with me.’

After our stroll through Amsterdam, Henry walks us to the hotel suite and plops on the bed, sprawled out, confiscating the entire bed with his large body. I take off my jacket and place it on the back of the chair. ‘Come here, Addy,’ Henry says, ‘I am cold, I want a hug.’

‘Liar,’ I chuckle, ‘you just want a hug.’ I jump on the bed and partially on top of him. Thankfully I know he can handle it, because he laughs and wraps his arms around me. ‘Henry,’ I say to him, my tone changing from playful to serious.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, pushing a strand of hair out of my face.

‘Did you see that couple?’ I ask him, ‘at the last cafe?’

He nods. ‘With those kids?’ he fills in.

I nod. ‘They were cute, weren’t they?’

‘They sure were,’ he admits.

‘You ever think about kids?’ I ask him. ‘Not right now, but later on in life?’

Henry smiles. ‘I do, honey. Specifically kids with you.’

My heart flutters as I bite my lower lip to prevent myself from squealing. ‘Really?’

‘Really. Can you even imagine how cute our kids would be? My curls, your eyes and they would probably be really tiny.’

I can’t help but laugh. ‘Shut up. I want my kids to be tall.’ I run my fingers through his soft curls and ask: ‘Where do you want to raise them?’

‘Is that why you’re worried?’ he asks me. There was a time that he didn’t know how what was going through my mind, but we passed those times a long time ago. He can look at me and know almost exactly what I’m thinking, even if it’s making a decision at a grocery store.

‘Maybe a little. I have been thinking about our future for awhile now.’

My mouth all of the sudden turns a lot drier. I wasn’t exactly sure where this conversation was going, but since it is happening right now, I feel like I cannot wiggle myself out of this.

Much to my dismay.

‘Sweetheart, you can tell me all about your thoughts about our future.’

‘Well,’ I start, ‘I don’t want kids right now, but maybe later on in our relationship. It’s just that I was wondering where you want to raise our children. I know it’s not something we should worry about now, but… Never mind.’

‘No, no, no.’ Henry turns around, so I slide from his chest and we’re both on our sides. ‘Not never mind. We’re gonna talk about this and I want you to be as honest as possible. Tell me, sweetheart, where do you want to raise our kids?’

I sigh. ‘You truly want to know about it? I thought about it long and hard.’

‘Of course I want to know,’ he says, a soft smile toying on his lips, while his rough finger tips graze over my cheek.

‘I kinda want to move to the UK.’

Henry’s eyes tell me he sure wasn’t expecting that. ‘Really?’

‘Together with my parents,’ I say. ‘LA is my hometown and forever will be, but I cannot raise my children there. Not after everything that happened there. I also want my parents to live close by, so they can see their grandkids grow up. I know they would love that. Besides, my dad would love it to move here.’

He smiles. ‘I totally understand it,’ he says. ‘How about… You and I find a nice house outside of London and we’ll look for a nice place for your parents close by?’

‘Are you sure?’ I ask. ‘I don’t even know where you want to raise our kids.’

‘You do,’ he says with a smile. ‘In a lovely place a little outside London with your parents close by.’

#the alluring charm of henry cavill #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x actress #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x adelaide park #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill oneshot #adelaide park #asian ofc

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purple-dahlias · 4 years ago

Note

homesickness for reesker from the bthb? <3

There’s a box under the bed that Ava hardly ever opens. It’s roughly the size of a shoebox and filled with memories. Something she’d bought over with her from South Africa when she made the move to Chicago now over two years ago. She had chosen to travel light, mostly, but that box contained most everything she didn’t want to part with. That she didn’t want to forget. The small things and moments that made up the pieces of her.

That afternoon, though, she wasn’t even looking for it. In fact, she had almost completely forgotten its existence until she went hunting for her running shoes, which had turned out to be under the bed, but were now lying forgotten beside her, in favour of The Box.

Ava opens it up carefully, and really, it’s a wonder the lid ever went on in the first place. It’s packed to the brim, full of photos and scraps of paper and postcards and other memorabilia from her life before America. One where the weather was warm and the sun kissed her skin and she hardly ever had need for a coat, completely unlike Chicago where it seemed you were bundled up for the most part of the year.

Sat cross-legged on the floor, Ava picks up the first photograph that had fallen out when she’d lifted the lid off the box. It’s of a house. A house with light coloured walls and a pale blue door. One where the large, fiery red crocosmia peeked out from over the wall and a chestnut tree could be seen, its branches extensive, spanning wide across the front garden. That was the tree she had broken her arm falling out of when she was eight, Ava remembers, smiling at the memory (though she hadn’t been smiling much at the time, she recalls). She traces a finger across the photo. This was the house she had grown up in, her and her sister Hilde.

Hilde. And that’s who the next photo is of. It’s the two of them sat at the kitchen table, Hilde in front of a large iced cake with seven multicoloured candles, a tiara on her head and dressed in a pink fairy costume. Ava remembers that day well: it had been Hilde’s seventh birthday, and her mother had been crying moments before they had bought Hilde into the kitchen because it had almost been a year since Hilde had been given the all-clear from the oncologist and there was a time when it was hard to believe she’d pull through to make it this far. But she had. She was a fighter.

Ava misses Hilde, wonders what she’s doing right now in that moment, halfway across the world, all those miles separating them as she puts the photo carefully aside and picking up a stack from the box. Next come photos of her childhood bedroom, of her school friends, of trips to Sea Point and down to the beaches. Her parents on their twentieth wedding anniversary. Seashells. Her fifth birthday candle. An assortment of other small objects that send the waves of memories rolling over her, like the tides did down at Long Beach. Letters and birthday cards and ticket stubs. Her mother’s face smiling up at her from grainy photographs. Moments perfectly frozen in time, ones that Ava can almost hear.

She doesn’t even realise she’s started crying until the tears fall onto the photograph she’s holding. It’s one of her with her friends, just after high school had finished. She remembers that one well. And it all just hurts. She doesn’t mean that particular photograph. It’s all of them. All the memories. The time and distance separating her from them, from being back there in her mother’s kitchen, from driving down those familiar roads, from her father’s laugh, from Hilde being just across the hallway from her.

It leaves a deep ache inside of her, which was why she never really opened that box. She didn’t want to get swept up by the past. Because even though she’d chosen to leave, it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially with all that she had left behind, and how, since leaving, she hadn’t been back. Not once. Sure, there had been phone calls and video chats but it wasn’t the same. It’s strange to think of the place, with all the people she’d known and loved and grown up with still existing, carrying on, without her there.

The bedroom light flickers on and Ava looks up, blinking at the sudden light, to see Sarah standing there in the doorway. She hadn’t realised she had been sitting there for so long that it had already gotten so dark. She hadn’t even heard Sarah come home, so engrossed as she’d been.

“Avey? Are you alright?” Sarah asks, concern filling her voice as she notices the tear tracks on Ava’s cheeks, coming to sit beside her there on the floor, leaning against the bed, the pile of photos and memories littered around the two of them. Sarah doesn’t remember ever having seen the box or its contents before.

Ava just shrugs noncommittally, watching as Sarah comes to sit beside her there on the floor, leaning back against the side of the bed. She wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to answer that, to put it all into words.

“It’s silly,” Ava finally begins, filling up the silence, “but I just miss it,” she reveals, gesturing to the photographs strewn about as she leans back against the wall, bringing her knees up and burying her face in them, not wanting to look at Sarah right now.

Sarah takes the opportunity to take a look at the photos Ava had gestured to. There’s one of two girls, one older, with the same eyes, the younger with decidedly curlier hair, both grinning up at whoever had been taking the photo.

“Hilde,” Ava says, by way of explanation when she sees Sarah looking, and Sarah nods in understanding. Ava had told her so much about her sister Hilde, and Sarah could only imagine how hard it must be for Ava to be apart from her, timezones and oceans separating them.

“You both look so happy here,” Sarah smiles, holding the photo carefully in her hands, a window into the past.

“We spent almost the entire day at the beach that day,” Ava says, remembering the day fondly. “Neither of us wanted to go home and we begged and begged to be allowed to stay. And then Hilde fell asleep on the sand under a pile of towels and mum freaked out because she thought we’d lost her.”

Sarah smiles at that, and inches her way closer to Ava, so that they’re both sitting side by side, backs leaning against the wall.

“The sunsets are amazing, Ava tells Sarah, showing her a photo. “The camera doesn’t do it justice. “I’ll have to take you there, one day,” she promises.

“I’d like that.”

“I guess it’s just, even though home is here now, with you in Chicago, it’s hard to see it that way sometimes, when almost all the memories are attached to another city on another continent.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself, Avey,” Sarah assures her. “And it’s not silly. Not at all. Of course you miss the place you grew up, where you spent most of your life. Where your family are. It’s only natural. But, we could go visit, if you like?” Sarah says carefully, posing it as a question, eyes trained on Ava who snaps her head up at that.

“Really?”

“Sure,” Sarah affirms. “Of course, we’d both have to get time off agreed, but I don’t think that would be a problem. I’d love to see where you grew up, and I’m sure it would do you a whole lot of good to see everyone you miss. And anyway, I’d love to meet your sister. Trade embarrassing stories. All that stuff.”

“Oh no, I am making sure you two are never alone together,” Ava decides firmly.

“Relax, I won’t tell her about the time you practically blew up the toaster and short circuited the house because you dropped tin foil in there.”

“You’d better not, Sarah Reese,” warns Ava. “And I thought we agreed to never bring that up again. It was late and I was hungry,” but she’s smiling now.

“Alright, alright,” hushes Sarah, putting an arm around Ava and pulling her close.

“You smell like hospital,” Ava informs her after a little while.

“Well I did just get back from a twelve hour shift,” retorts Sarah. “Not all of us were lucky enough to get a day off today.”

“Take that up with Connor. We traded shifts because he wanted to take Will to some stupid sports game, but, I did get the day off, so who am I to complain? Not when it ends like this,” she smiles into the crook of Sarah’s neck, twisting a coil of Sarah’s hair around one finger.

“Aves, not that I don’t love this and all, but my leg’s gone dead. Mind if we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

“I was comfortable,” Ava grumbles, helping Sarah up.

“Well, if it helps persuade you, I got doughnuts on my way back.”

“You did? From that place on Ellis?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, let’s go, then,” Ava says eagerly, practically dragging Sarah from the room.

#thank you for this!#bad things happen bingo #homesickness prompt #my writing #reesker #sarah reese #ava bekker #chicago med #nova tag #crockettstiddies

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rovewritesit · 5 years ago

Text

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame.

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on.

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel.

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?”

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour.

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments.

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face.

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch.

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,”

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again.

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game.

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with?

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk.

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly.

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100.

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles.

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath.

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.”

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture.

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality. One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it.

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill.

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar.

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids."

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug.

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone.

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince.

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead.

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain.

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately.

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.

#john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #angelofmydreams

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bambigoose · 5 years ago

Text

Master Manipulator

Kelhani was freezing, its four degrees out in Toronto today and it didn’t matter how tightly she wrapped herself up nothing was generating more heat for her. A vast jump from the sixty four degrees it was when she left Cape Town, South Africa yesterday afternoon. Her internship with Apex Shark Expeditions had kept her halfway around the world for the past six months. Currently the sharks have migrated out of the area for the next few months and Chris her internship overseer gave them free reign to work from wherever they’d like for the next two months as long as they had the research completed for their due dates and were present at the weekly meetings over skype. This was going to mean a few nights of waking up at three am for a skype call, but she got to come home for a bit so it was worth it. Besides, there were days she was walking up at three am to head out on the boat, skyping would be easy.

Waiting for the crosswalk to change, she chuckled to herself. Looking up ahead she could see Stephanie jumping up and down attempting to use Mitch’s shoulder as support in an attempt to spot her. Having stopped to do an errand before meeting up with them, Kelhani was approaching from a different direction. Hearing the beeping of the light change she proceeded across the street weaving in and out of people in a desperate attempt not to be noticed. Clumsily tripping over her own two feet she was forced to admit walking like a normal person may be in her best interest.

“Mitch do you see her?” Stephanie asked as Kelhani approached. The petite blonde kept leaping into the air using Mitch’s shoulder for balance and lift like it’ll make her see further up the street.

Mitch was sputtering, moving his girlfriend’s hair out of his face, “Babe, I can’t see anything through your hair.” He laughed. On her next landing, Stephanie punched Mitch in the arm with a soft thump.

“Hey now, don’t injure the super star Steph, the entire city might come after you.” Kelhani said wrapping her arms around both of them from behind. She was pretty sure the warning did nothing to help. Stephanie shrieked before throwing herself into her, arms flailing, and whacked poor Mitch right in the nose.

“IMISSEDYOUSOMUCH,YOU’RENEVERALLOWEDTOLEAVELIKETHATAGIAIN.” Spewed out of Stephanie’s mouth in one breath, her face turning red towards the end of it.

Kelhani laughed, “You have two months before I have to take off again.” while dipping out of Stephanie’s arms to hug Mitch properly too. Despite his calm demeanor the second the opening presented itself Mitch had her in the air spinning around and giggling like a little child.

Stephanie beamed seeing her best friend and boyfriend get along so well. Kelhani and she met the summer they both turned six. After years of supporting each other, sleepovers, joint family vacations, graduations, and break ups they’d remained incredibly close despite all of their differences. Their relationship was put to the test when they elected to attend different colleges, Kelanhi leaving to attend the University of Pensacola in Florida while Stephanie remained in Toronto. Previously, she stressed herself almost to the point of sickness over Mitch and Kelhani meeting for the first time. It turned out to be completely unneeded. The two of them had been talking through the Whatsup App without her knowing once their relationship had reached the six month mark. She almost dropped to the floor when Mitch ran through the apartment to greet his “second girlfriend” when they got home from the airport. Now, she fights with her own boyfriend for time with her best friend during their visits.

“Can you even breathe in all these layers? Mitch quipped, dropping Kelhani back on her feet.

Looking down at her down jacket, with a north face and a sweater on underneath it, her scarf kept inching up her face forced by the jacket and mittens covered her hands. “My blood thinned out okay! It’s freezing out here.”

Stephanie laughed, linking her arm through Mitch’s left while he reached out linking his right arm with Kelhani. “Let’s get the beach bum inside.”

Mitch started walking leading the girls through the crowds toward their lunch destination while Kelhani leaned forward to look at both of them, “Should we start skipping and singing we’re off to see the wizard?” She smiled as her two best friends laughed, she was home and this moment made freezing her ass off worth it.

….

Lunch with Mitch and Stephanie was always an adventure is the best way to describe it. Entering the restaurant they bicker over who got to sit next to her. Mary, their usual waitress at the diner rolled her eyes when they entered, used to the bickering of the couple. Kelhani greeted the sixty-six year old waitress with a hug. Their pseudo grandmother catching up with her quickly as Mitch attempted to rant with arms waving that it was the quality of the friendship not the length that should dictate seating privileges. Both of them were so engrossed in their argument, neither noticed Kelhani and Mary walk over to the round corner booth for about five minutes. “Where’d Kel go?”

“She decided she interfered too much in your relationship and elected to go home.” Mary responded, eyes narrowing at the pair from behind the counter.

“Look what you did.” Stephanie whacked Mitch with the back of her hand in the chest.

“What I did? I called her mid walk! You just didn’t like that I did it before you!” Mitch lightly hip checked Stephanie to emphasize his point.

Mary looked ready to interject before Kelhani called from the back, “You two are the least observant people I know!”

Whipping their heads around like excited Golden Retrievers hearing a treat bag being opened, they both beamed seeing Kelhani straw in mouth sucking down on a chocolate mint milkshake with their favorite flavors on either side of her. A moment later, Kelhani had to wonder if this is what it felt like to be running with the bulls. Mitch and Stephanie took off in her direction, bumping each other out of the way and knocking into booths before finally sliding into her on either side with enough force to cause her to spill part of her milkshake.

Mitch ignored Kelhani’s pout, reaching over her for the menu, “Why do you even bother looking? We get the same thing every time.” Stephanie leans forward grabbing the menu out of Mitch’s hand causing Kelhani to jolt her milkshake again.

“What if they have good specials today?”

If looks could kill Mitch would be dead, the city of Toronto would be in mourning, and Kelhani would have lost her Canadian citizenship. Whipping up the third milkshake spill of the day, “You two do realize you are why we can’t have nice things, right?”

Mary came to the rescue with a new milkshake as the couple cringed. She smirked and looked directly at Kelhani for an answer. “The usual sweethearts?”

Mitch eagerly leaned forward, “Well, if I could look at a menu…”

He was interrupted as Kelhani placed her hand on his face and pushed him back fully into the seat. “Yes please ma’am.” With a glare to either side of her, “The children are going to behave or we’ll be getting out of your hair.”

“WE’RE NOT CHILDREN!”

“Experience suggests differently you two.” Kelhani chuckled as they both attacked her sides. It was good to be home.

….

It was not good to be home. Mitch and Stephanie surprised her with a “small” house party they were throwing that night, which she absolutely had to come too because “we’ve missed you so much and it wouldn’t be right to do this without her.” The two of them had taken off to different areas and she was surrounded by Maple Leafs and their families who she had never met. A truly excellent way to make her anxiety feel like it was suffocating her while she contemplates how to leave without upsetting Mitch and Steph. Feeling the pressure building in her chest and finding an open route out onto the balcony Kelanhi attempted to make her escape.

Halfway across the room she collided into a brick wall, a quick sorry and a glance told her it had been Freddie Andersen. Her squeaky apology and accidental bumping pushed the anxiety almost into a full blown attack. She rushed towards the balcony missing the equally as quiet “it’s okay” and concerned look instead focusing on opening the door with the next to impossible to use handles.

Her breathing increased, almost gasping as she continued to struggle with the handle. The room appeared to be getting louder and louder while spinning the more she struggled before suddenly it was cut off. A large hand covered hers and pushed the handle opening the doors while barricating her with their body and shuffling forward out onto the balcony. Kelanhi braced herself on the railing and looked out over the Toronto skyline. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, she took a moment to reorient herself and calm her body down before turning to look at the quiet presence off to her side.

Freddie was leaning on the corner of the balcony, looking out of the skyline while subtly looking out of the corner of his eyes at her. A loud exhale left Kelhani and Freddie turned to face her, leaning his hip against the railing. “Mitch’s place is too small for this many people…” he utters to her quietly.

A surprised gawf left Kelhani, her eyes rolling. “Don’t go telling him that.”

“I can go tell him we’re both leaving? Bulldoze our way to the door.” he suggests with a smile, Stephanie’s fairy lights twinkling in his eyes. Kelhani returned the smile with a slight nod of relief. “Of course I’ll need something for it.”

“And what’s that?”

“How about dinner? Don’t think I didn’t see you avoid all of the healthy apps too.”

For the second time in under two minutes another surprised gawf left Kelhani. “Who knew you were such a master manipulator Mr.Andersen.”

“Gotta keep people on their toes.”

Three minutes later as the two left the door. Mitch leaned over to Stephanie, “Your planned worked perfectly.”

“Well obviously, we gotta figure out a way to make sure she comes back here after her internship. Unless of course you’re looking for a trade.”

“Let’s just keep manipulating our friends.” Mitch laughs pulling her close in a celebratory hug.

#freddie andersen #mitch marner #Toronto Maple Leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #mitch marner imagine #freddie andersen imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #Hockey Fanfiction

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago

Text

A New Adventure - Pt. 4

Motion of Things to Come

Warnings: spoilers

Masterlist

Read on AO3

A week has passed since you found Arthur. He’s adjusted better than you thought to life inside your home. Over the weekend, you even took him to the grocery store for your weekly trip. You told him if it got to be too overwhelming to let you know and you’d leave and come back another day, but he took it very well. He asked a lot of questions that attracted funny glances from a few people, but he seemed fascinated by it.

He was even more fascinated when a guy on a motorcycle zoomed past you on the way home. Despite it being February and still the middle of winter, it was a warm day. Not unusual for Utah. People always take advantage of the warm weather when it comes around.

You can tell Arthur’s getting stir crazy in your home, being cooped up all the time, spending long hours alone while you’re at work. Sage, your dog, is his only company. You feel bad, but you just can’t risk him getting into trouble.

It’s Friday afternoon and you decide to take him for a walk in the park where you met him. Since it’s at the foot of a mountain, he’s welcome to explore it. It’s not pretty by any terms, mostly just dead grass and some dried up sage bushes, dormant in the winter, but it’s still outdoors.

Arthur’s mood picks up quite a lot more than you thought it would as you walk down the street towards the park. You let him hold Sage’s leash (you’ll let her off once you actually hit the park). Arthur doesn’t stare as much as he did when you first met him.

Despite his frustrations at being cooped up, he’s been sweet and kind to you. You know from playing the game he has a quick temper, but it hasn’t shown. Perhaps he’s trying to keep it down because he knows how much you’re helping him, how much you’ve already helped him. He’s responding extremely well to the antibiotics.

Once you reach the park, Sage goes running off, barking wildly purely for the fun of it. Arthur watches her with a fond smile.

You ask him what he watched on Netflix today while you were at work. He’s long since finished that history series you started him off with and has tentatively ventured into more adventurous shows. He recently stumbled into the Planet Earth series and has found it fascinating. You’ve come home the last few days to find him sitting on the couch with his journal in hand, his eyes staring amazed at the animals on the screen.

He talks about the most recent episode he saw, one documenting the migration patterns of wildebeest in Africa.

After a short period of comfortable silence, Arthur asks you about your job and if you like it.

“It’s alright,” you say. “I’m just a processor now.” You explain what that is. “But I only have three more months to go before they decide if they want me as an appraiser. I have to take some classes if they say yes and then I can start working from home.”

Arthur’s eyes brighten when you say that you can work remotely. He’s probably just happy to know he’ll have a companion that can actually talk back.

When you reach the cave where he came out of, with the funny drawing that ended up being the portal that brought him here, you both stop.

“You ever think of going back?” you ask, fearing the answer.

“Yes,” he says. “But I don’t know if I can. Not unless I wanna die.” When you ask what he’s talking about, he admits that a few days ago, he snuck out of the house and went back to West Elizabeth. Everything was exactly the way it was when he left. His horse was even nibbling on the same patch of grass. However, he said the full effects of his TB slammed into him. It was as though he’d never taken any of the medicine. When he returned here, he was back to healing and he did feel better.

“Guess that means that unless I wanna die, I’m stayin’ with you,” he finishes.

Your stomach does a backflip. Of course, you doubt anything will ever happen between the two of you. He probably finds you weird or is just uninterested in you in that way. Not that you blame him. It’s not like anyone’s ever found you attractive, desirable or even remotely interesting.

“So I guess when it comes to your world, it’s like a Narnia thing,” you say.

“A what?” he says brusquely.

“Nevermind,” you say quickly. You’ll show him those types of movies when he’s a bit more familiar with movies that have a lot of CG and thick plots in them.

You keep walking away from the cave, following the natural trails around the foot of the mountain. Sage looks back on the pair of you every few moments, wagging her tail furiously.

“Shit,” you say, looking ahead. Further up the trail, you see a pair of female deer grazing. Sage isn’t afraid of deer at all. Most dogs probably would be because of their size, but you’ve lived out here since before she was born and you got her as a puppy. She’s used to deer and she even likes to bark and chase them. One time though, a doe that probably had a fawn hidden close by got mean right back with her and nearly kicked her in the head. It took everything you had to get Sage’s attention and she ran back with a furious deer on her tail.

Arthur just chuckles. “Ah, I wouldn’t be too worried,” he says. “She’s a smart girl.”

“Yeah, but she has her stupid moments.”

As if to prove a point, Sage looks at the deer hard, sniffs and then looks back at you. She trots back to you and then stares hard at the deer again. Then she gives a loud “borf” and the deer look up. Upon spotting you, they leap away into the grass and disappear.

“See? Smarter than you think,” Arthur chuckles.

Suddenly your hands bump into each other as you walk. You both pass awkward apologies and “it was my fault, you’re fine”. However, you can’t help but feel like your hand’s burning where his touched yours.

The next morning, you take him to the Smith and Edwards Hardware store in the south end of the valley. You love coming here, it has all sorts of odds and ends for decent prices. It’s also definitely a store Arthur would like. There’s hunting gear, camping gear, things for owning and riding horses. And most importantly: clothes fit for a cowboy.

After first meeting him, you bought him a couple of cheap shirts and jeans, but they were generic and, as mentioned, cheap. You could tell he didn’t like them and was fine wearing his blue button up shirt.

When you get to the store and go to the shirt section, you spread your arms and say “Mr. Morgan, go find whatever clothes you like and pick to your heart’s desire!”

“Morgan?” you hear a voice say. Turning around, you find a boy in his early twenties maybe. He’s looking hard at Arthur. “Hey, you do look just like Arthur Morgan! Nice cosplay, man! You’re killing it!”

He asks Arthur to take a couple of pictures. Since you’ve introduced him to the widespread functions of phones already, he’s not shocked by the camera in the man’s hand. He is shocked that he recognized him, but he graciously takes photos with him with a flabbergasted smile.

When the man thanks him and walks off, Arthur turns to you. “A’right, spill,” he says.

“What?” you say, trying to sound dumb.

“How in the hell do so many people know me? You knew my name the second you set eyes on me and so did he. What, am I a historical figure or something?” He scoffs at this thought.

“Not exactly,” you say. You haven’t brushed up on the game or video games at all in fact.

“Listen, Arthur, I know it’s not ideal, but I will explain it all when it’s the right time. When you’ve gotten a little more used to… this world, I’ll show you. You might not like it though.”

He just huffs. “Fine. But at least tell me the general idea of it. I deserve to know that much at least.”

You really don’t want to do this in a store where other people can hear you, so you tell him you’ll explain it in the car.

Arthur just shrugs his shoulders and goes around picking out a few shirts and two pairs of jeans. You browse the isles of vintage candy for a moment, stalling to go check out. How in the hell are you going to explain this?

The inevitable comes and soon you’re in the car, driving home with Arthur. He brings the subject up again.

“Okay, Arthur. There’s something called a video game. Video games are a sort of… type of visual story telling but not like movies. You get to play the main character of the game and kind of experience it as if you were them. Well, a couple years back, a game came out that focused on you after things fell apart in Blackwater for the game. It follows you until…”

“Until what?” he says in a deep growl. This is clearly not what he was expecting.

“Well, until you end up… dying.”

He sighs heavily. “It’s the TB, ain’t it?”

You nod, deciding not to go into the complications of the four possible endings in the game. “Yeah. Then the game switches perspective to John Marston a few years after. It won a lot of awards and people raved that it changed the industry of video games. It made a lot of waves. Think about it, Arthur. You’re famous!”

He sighs again and looks out the window. “Famous for dyin’ or bein’ a damn fool, I guess. I think… Dutch has changed, Y/N. When we got back from Guarma, and when we were there too, he just… liked killin’ folk I think.”

You grab his hand and squeeze it reassuringly before you can stop yourself. “I know, Arthur. I’ve played the game. A few times, actually. And I know what happens to Dutch. But you try. You try your hardest to help him see reason and when that doesn’t work to get John and his family out. You’re a good man, Arthur.”

“I’m not, Y/N. You don’t know the things I done.”

“But I do, Arthur. Obviously not everything, but I know a good chunk of it. I know a lot more than you think, in fact. Now I don’t have a lot of faith in people. Think everyone is out for themselves, more than happy to step on the little people. I’ve been one of them for longer than I care to admit. But trust me when I say I know you and you’re a good man. You may have made some poor decisions, but who hasn’t? We’ve all done things, said things, intentionally hurt people and later regretted it. But you try. You try to do better, to make up for them. Besides, no one’s inherently good or evil. We all have both inside us.”

He sighs again and looks at you as you stop at a light. His hand flips up to meet yours and you swear you feel him squeeze it. “Thank you, Y/N. I got real lucky when I stepped out of that cave and bumped into you.”

You’re glad the light turns green so you have an excuse to look away and hide your blush.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #a new adventure #i'm awkward

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causeiwanttoandican · 5 years ago

Text

I think I hear he sound of shattering glass coming from Vancouver.

The Telegraph

Kate steps up: The making of a future Queen

Revealed: The crack team building and shaping the Duchess of Cambridge's royal future

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor

7 February 2020 • 9:00pm

It has been exactly a month since Harry and Meghan announced that they were stepping back as senior members of the Royal Family. For the past eight weeks, column inches have racked up about the ‘Megxit’ bombshell and its impact on the institution of monarchy.

Yet amid all the hysteria and hullabaloo, one of its most important members has been serenely going about the business of keeping calm and carrying on.

Until now this kind of understated behaviour may have been most closely associated with the Queen, but it is her modern day equivalent, the Duchess of Cambridge, who has been quietly putting duty first with increasing visibility.

A recent UK tour to launch her landmark survey on early childhood, combined with well-received visits to Bradford and Mumbles, may at first look like Kate making a conscious effort to fill the void left by her brother and sister in law.

Yet as has ever been the case with the middle class girl from Bucklebury who married into the Firm almost a decade ago, that would be to underestimate a woman who has never made a show of her royal role.

Motherhood to monarch

Having discreetly spent the past eight years beavering away on the causes closest to her heart, Kate has finally found her voice and is determined to use it. No longer willing to be seen but not heard, sources say she is now ready to commit the rest of her working life to raising awareness of the importance of childhood - and its impact on adult life.

Although she never took the credit for being the inspiration behind the Heads Together mental health campaign spearheaded by William and Harry - having witnessed its extraordinary impact, there is a sense that the Duchess has finally realised just how much she is capable of.

“The Duchess has worked quietly away in the background for years,” said one well-placed royal insider, “And now she knows that people want to hear from her”. No longer as fearful of public speaking, and fast carving her own path out of the shadows, Kate’s landmark online survey '5 Big Questions on the Under Fives’, will mark the start of decades more work on the subject, according to aides.

“It’s much easier to speak out when you know what you’re talking about and passionate about your subject,” added the insider. “She has become an expert in early years learning, she understands the science and is respected in the sector because she has spent the past eight years working it out. But she also wants to find answers. This is about evidence based research.” The first results of the childhood survey are due next month.

Kate’s gentle yet inquisitive manner was never more on display than when she met wheelchair-bound Harvey Bentley, 90, in Mumbles on Tuesday. The warm exchange was filmed by Mr Bentley’s son-in-law Mike Sutton-Smith

This kind of reaction is certainly welcome after arguably the most testing period for the monarchy since Diana’s death. With two of the so-called ‘Fab Four’ poised to set up their own projects in North America, the focus for the Cambridges will not only be on putting duty first but in a non-partisan, but an extremely effective way.

As one observer noted: “It is a bit of a paradox, having such a naturally introverted person in such a high-profile position. I think that’s what people find endearing about the Duchess. She’s not a showy person. It’s a deeply British trait.”

And one which she certainly shares with Her Majesty who also has a quiet confidence and sense of reserve when interacting with the public.

Of course, accession may still be decades away, but preparations for the royal couple to become the next Prince and Princess of Wales were already well underway before Harry and Meghan’s move to Canada.

Yet while efforts had previously been ploughed into elevating the status of the man who would be king - there is a new, and arguably even more compelling project now fully in progress at the palace: the advent of Queen Catherine.

So much so in fact that team of academics have been drafted in to help the mother-of-three shape her royal future, with input from the highest echelons of government and even the security services.

Likened to a modern-day version of the Way Ahead Group, set up to rebuild the monarchy in the aftermath of the Queen’s ‘annus horribilis’ of 1992, the Duchess’s steering group of experts has informed her focus on early years learning and helped her to grow in confidence in her royal role.

Working royals putting duty first

As the royal couple prepare to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary next year, 2020 is set to be momentous for the Cambridges.

Projecting themselves as a family unit - and a relatable one too - has become a priority and was behind them agreeing to the prime time Christmas TV special with national treasure Mary Berry, which saw the royal couple cooking souffles while discussing the work of their Royal Foundation, the philanthropic vehicle for all their charitable endeavours.

With talk of trips to Ireland, Chile and Columbia already in the offing, and both having recently launched major charitable initiatives - including William’s Earthshot Prize - a multimillion pound project to ‘repair the planet’, the next 12 months will see the pair try to bring what one palace insider describes as the ‘calm after the storm’.

The source added: “What you are going to see with the Cambridges is a couple carved very much out of the Queen’s mould: Duty first.”

Having had three children in swift succession and with Prince George, six and Princess Charlotte, four, now in school and Prince Louis turning two in April, Kate’s priorities have shifted.

According to one well-placed source: “Over the last 12 months they have realised the potential power of their platform. They understand that by launching these long term projects they can genuinely make a big difference. They’ve been told clearly by people the impact that they can have if they pick the right spaces - things they care passionately about.”

Just this week we have seen William discuss diversity at the Baftas and his mental health initiative Heads Up, tackling the issue through football, has been well received. As with Earthshot, described by one aide as “the biggest thing the Duke has ever undertaken”, it’s about saying ‘we can do this’, rather than ‘this is too daunting’”, said a source.

“The Royal Foundation has been going for 10 years now. What they want to do is a smaller number of things on a bigger scale. For the Duchess, the early years work is something she will lead for the rest of her life. It's easy to dismiss it as nice and cuddly, but the focus is going to shift from how much childhood issues affect adult mental health and on the social side, it's as significant as climate change.”

While both projects and their recent visits to Yorkshire and South Wales had been in the diary for months, there is no doubt the ‘Sussex situation’ has escalated matters. “A hell of a lot of responsibility rests on their shoulders and they’ve just got to get on with it,” said royal author Phil Dampier. “I think they are both resigned to spending the next 30, 40, 50 years as heavyweight royals.”

A formidable asset

Government hopes are also being pinned on William and Kate flying the flag for post-Brexit Britain. The Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) was “delighted” with their highly successful visit to Pakistan last year, which helped to demonstrate the Cambridges’ worth to UK Plc. There emphasis will be on ‘youthful yet dependable royalty’ - demonstrating the power of the Royal Family both home and abroad as a formidable ambassadorial asset.

This was certainly on show last month as William hosted his first major state occasion - a reception for the UK-Africa Investment Summit - on behalf of the Queen at Buckingham Palace.

Standing alongside his wife, many royal watchers noted how much more publicly demonstrative William had become towards Kate. During the reception he was uncharacterstically nostalgic, saying: “The African continent holds a very special place in my heart. It is the place my father took my brother and me shortly after our mother died. And when deciding where best to propose to Catherine, I could think of no more fitting place than Kenya to get down on one knee.” When a wellwisher in Mumbles complimented William on Charlotte, he replied: "Yes, she is lovely - just like my wife."

And it is this kind of gentle encouragement and support which is intended to propel his wife to the next level - where her dependability turns into the kind of ‘soft power’ which can affect real change.

Or as one insider put it: "They are going to be doing what politicians can't do, with such a comparatively shorter shelf life. Only royals can think about this scale of change on a generational basis - and that is what the Cambridges are determined to bring about."

A crucial appointment for Kate will be her next private secretary following the departure of Catherine Quinn, the Oxford-educated right hand woman who has helped to chart the past two years. The Telegraph understands a replacement is yet to be found and the Duchess is continuing to be supported by her assistant private secretary and Simon Case, the former civil servant who has been William’s closest adviser since July 2018. Case previously worked for former Prime Ministers David Cameron and Theresa May and that they are taking their time, searching for someone of Case's calibre for Kate is certainly telling.

The couple arguably have another, equally pressing legacy project: the future survival of the monarchy. William has certainly been working in ‘lock step’ with his father and grandmother to find a solution to his brother and sister-in-law’s desire to leave the Firm.

The Telegraph can reveal that the second-in-line was also much more involved in the decision for the Duke of York to step back from public life last November than has previously been reported.

When Prince Andrew travelled to Sandringham to hold talks with Prince Philip and Charles - he also held a meeting with his nephew, believed to be at Anmer Hall, the Cambridge’s Georgian country house on the Queen’s estate in Norfolk. According to a source: “William spoke to Andrew for about an hour. They met separately. The Queen and Prince of Wales both agreed he should be fully involved in the discussions - he is very much a part of what has become a triumvirate of decision-making these days.”

No Fab Four Anymore

As Joe Little, editor-of-chief of Majesty magazine points out, there needs to be a shift in focus now that Harry and Meghan have handed in their notice. “Prince Charles had hoped to have a slimmed down monarchy with his own children and grandchildren as the major players, but he has had to revise that masterplan in light of recent events.

“The House of Windsor was riding high for such a long time with weddings, babies and jubilees, William and Kate have got to restore some of that magic.”

Agreeing that the Duchess’s role will be key to ensuring a modern-day monarchy is fit for purpose, he added: “There’s a mystique about Kate like there has always been about the Queen.”

While Harry and Meghan appear intent on politicising their future role, for William and Kate it is going to be all about the three S’s: stature, strength, and stability

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leglesstv · 5 years ago

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The Dream Run: Greg Holzman’s Island Life

Part 2.

If you were born before the last twenty years of the 20th century you’re able to grasp how much new technology and cheap air travel have changed the world and the way we live in it: profound changes that have touched every aspect of our lives. Surfing has always required commitment to the pursuit of good waves, but the nature and depth of that commitment has morphed and grown. Greg joked with us about one of the photos he sent us - him perfectly framed in the spiralling mouth of a smooth and luminous barrel - saying it was “nothing money can’t buy”. He’s right of course, but money’s only part of it – to experience the kind of nirvana we glimpse in shots like that requires planning, preparation of equipment, logistics, lots of water-time and perhaps more than anything, fitness. Add to this the fact that as a self-employed fisherman, when Greg’s not working, he’s not earning. Sponsors? Well, he gets a few boards from Buddy McCray. His logistical team is a loose network of local contacts he’s developed to facilitate the various resources and services inevitably required at short notice in out of the way places. Greg’s strike missions are conceived, organised, funded and executed autonomously: it’s all his own experience, knowledge, time and money. There are few among us able to shut up shop and disappear, possibly for months at a time, living self-sufficiently on the road, chasing the chance of finding a particular spot firing for a limited time. You may plan for a road trip or a boat trip, but Greg’s is commitment on a whole other level. Access to technology is one thing, knowing how to put it to best use is a skill acquired over time. Greg’s background in fishing has been a huge help in interpreting long-range weather forecasts, weather maps, charts of out of the way places: all key factors in his ability to score quality waves. Help and advice from fellow travellers, including a smattering of kneeboard surfers spread around the globe. Behind all this though, remain two things. One is what started it all going more than half a lifetime ago in San Diego: an irrepressible drive to ride big, challenging, high quality waves. The other is what drove Greg to leave Oahu for the outer islands in the late 70’s: the drive to explore the outermost limits of his ability on his own, away from the crowd. While there are plenty of pro and semi-pro freesurfing footboarders criss-crossing the globe at any given time, each with a Youtube channel and an Instagram account, it’s kind of nice to know that kneeboard surfing has Greg Holzman out there pushing the limits of what’s been done and pushing the rest of us to step up our game and look beyond our comfort zone.

Greg views his big wave pursuits as “strike missions”. Track a swell, find a spot, check wind and tide permutations, airlines, local travel, accommodation, be ready to go at the drop of a hat, and be prepared to surf at 100% when you get there. He’s been doing this for about 40 years, perhaps with increasing sophistication and expertise, but that’s the only change. We received an email just after Christmas.

“So for fear of more words I’ll give you the story of my first solo big wave venture. It was at Pipeline. 1978. It was a giant West swell. Surf reports weren’t accurate back then but looking out I could see it was nice East winds in Kailua and I knew a big West swell was pumping. I was all about Pipeline at the end of my Oahu period so I felt very comfortable out there.

I surfed with the heavies of the day, so I was pushing my limits. Driving up Kam Highway, the hour it took really got the heart pumping, especially when I hit Indicators reef and saw how big it was. More often than not, the swell was huge instead of too small, but in the 70’s no-one knew how big till you got there. When I got to Ehukai Beach Park I saw no-one out, perfect offshores and third reef sets at 20ft Hawaiian. Some amazing waves but I wasn’t sure I was ready for that!

Jack Lindholm was headed out on his bodyboard. I watched him catch a few incredible rides that got me stoked. The Second reef was capping hard and seemed like easy take-offs, but that was Jack on a bodyboard and he could take off later than anyone at the time.

I remember he didn’t make it out of a tube on one and came up the beach with his board almost torn in half. I didn’t know him but commented on his board. He said he was going to change boards and go back out so I told him I would get ready and meet him out there. As I walked down to the beach I saw Sam Hawk paddle out, headed to the peaks at outside Log Cabins. I never saw Sammy again. Obviously, he lived, but that was all I saw of him as it was soon after this that I moved to Kauai.

Anyway, I paddled out. It wasn’t that hard; in fact it was really easy with the channel and a big West swell. Everyone was at Waimea Bay - for good reason. When I got out, I remember seeing the sets on the outer reefs break a minute or two before they hit us. What I remember most was how hard it was to catch those monsters on my 5’2” twin fin fish. The waves had a deep-water slope to them, and you had to take off as the wave was breaking. Jack had it down and before too long he was gone. I never saw Jack again either. So here I am and all I’m seeing is giant lines - just like the movies - and I’m getting further and further from shore. I’m thinking that I may need to get rescued and wondering if anyone’s watching in the lifeguard tower. I thought how embarrassing that would be and decided I needed to move inside and catch one underneath or I was not going to get in. Paddling in was a death sentence and it was obviously on the rise, so in between sets I paddled inside. When a set approached EVERYTHING in me said “move outside NOW”, but I waited. I thought if I didn’t catch that first one I was getting to that beach dead or alive. Luckily, I made the right call and that first wave was deep and inside and an easy take-off. In fact, I commented to myself on how easy it was, really. Once it hit that first reef I just sat there in this big easy barrel - no fear anymore - and the wave was just as perfect and easy a wave as I could get. It spit and I glided out onto the shoulder. I looked out thinking “I can do that again” when … the whole channel was closing out. I immediately turned for shore, just in time to see it turn to close-out sets. When I got there I heard the hoots and claps of tourists cheering. I had survived my first solo big wave event. It scared me but I never felt more alive and I never forgot it. Just like many firsts, they are worth remembering.”

So, fast forward to 2016, with Greg’s island life undergoing change, and another dream run about to start. While in Kandui in May that year, Greg picked up a Facebook friend request from Paul Macklin, an Aussie traveller who for years had sent him photos of his surf travels. Paul was then living in Bali. Greg decided he needed to return to G-land, so in July he left for Bobby’s Camp.

Paul met me in the camp. Bobby Radiasa remembered me - it was like I had never left. All the same guys. Many had gone back every year I was gone. Having that family vibe in camp is a very addictive feeling and Facebook has kept us all back in contact. So, 2018 became the thirty-year reunion for me and G-land. I had three trips in 2018 looking for the gold standard G-land of June - July 2016 that was still the three swells of recent memory. I got amazing waves, but that massive perfect Speed Reef (which rarely happens) eluded me. After seeing the photos of those days I swore I was investing in this as a goal: to get it at its best. I didn’t care how many trips it would take.

After G-land in July 2017, I was off to South Africa: from Bali to J-bay. I worried about the cold, coming straight from the tropics, and I did freeze, but I learned a few tricks there as well on staying warm - including a 1mm wetsuit top under my clothes - that let no cold air in on those freezing surf checks! That’s where I met Gigs and Stevo. I stayed with Mike Ruthnum, who I’m indebted to for introducing me to great people, fellow KB riders, and secret surf spots that I will always remember. J-bay was an eye-opener. Much had changed there. Crowds were always a factor, but the town had a great vibe. The South Africans have all the forecasting at their fingertips now, so they come from around the country for the bigger swells, which I found different than the 80’s. But with that came KB riders. I found a very cool group of fellow riders who were happy, very much a club feeling, and with a wide range of boards ... it was an impressive group. I came home knowing that I would return next season. A month is not enough time in Africa. But as soon as I got home, I saw $500 tickets return to Bali. I knew Gigs was going and Simon Farrer - who I hadn’t seen since he was 18 on my island with Buddy - was meeting Gigs at G-land. Simon was already a phenomenon at 18. Seeing his movies made me want to spend time with these two world champs. So back I went for more.

That took me right into the 2018-19 season with a passion for strike missions. I managed to strike a few Pacific spots early 2019 during Hawaii’s stormy moments. Each time selling more plants and looking: as soon as it was a good moment and I had cash I was going - sometimes with less than 8 hours to pack and be at the airport. I was on call for G-land when I saw a series of swells and good winds lining up. I told myself I wasn’t going to plan in advance for Indo anymore. My goal was one which wouldn’t end till I caught that 2016 Gold standard swell. Lucky for me it came on a day that looked like it wasn’t going to happen. The surf was huge and the direction was good with a high tide, but the wind was light onshore. I was pretty bummed when I saw the rain at 9 am, (not usually a good sign) but it passed quickly. All the guys went in. I knew the winds were changing with that sound the bamboo makes and quickly suited up. I got down to the beach and Donny the photographer said to hop on his bike. Blacky and he were headed out on the boat to take photos. I knew it was good and a heavy paddle out, so off we went. As soon as we neared it, we saw this was no normal day. When you see the photographer and boat driver pounding the boat and cheering like they were you know it’s not a normal day. Two guys were out, but they wanted nothing to do with those sets. My heart was pounding hard. I knew this was going to be a test - of all I had learned to stay safe, and the test of my equipment I so badly wanted.

What made it even better was my photographer was right on it with me to document. I paddled out to an empty lineup and two guys who just paddled over the sets. It was destiny, fate, or just plain perseverance.

I learned a lot: about my boards, my goals and how hard it is to drive through those shock waves deep in barrels when it’s like that. I could see that what I needed was a board with the fins further back for stability as one bottom turn is all you get and then you’re behind and flying. Some I made, some I should have made, and others were just plain heavy. The crowd eventually showed up and the tide went out. One of the biggest problems with this kind of swell is it’s only good at high tide for a maximum of 4 hours. Usually only about 2 to 3 hours at its best. That’s a lot of investment for such a short window. For me it was worth it. It taught me I could still do it and what my boards needed next mission to maximize my tube time.

It’s obvious that there’s a lot more to surf exploration at this level than meets the eye. A lifetime of preparation and expense may seem a high price to pay for memories - a few photos and stories representing the sole concrete evidence of mere minutes spent riding perfect surf - but to Greg, as for anyone else doing what he does, it’s not about money.

I’ve done 12 trips in three years and surfed Hawaii winters every swell I can in between. I’ve gone to 5 destinations and gone back to each - if I can - till I am satisfied I’ve caught it at its best. I feel I have only really achieved that this year (2019) at G land, which is lucky because next year isn’t going to be the year - with the WSL going off there in the middle of the season.

In Hawaii we take surfing very seriously. It has changed from when I started, Then, it was much more about the soul surfer and not publicizing where you went and not photographing your sessions. It wasn’t for money either. Now, everyone thinks they can get a free something if they’re good. It’s competitive and I try to remain in a collaborative mind-space. I have found it’s probably a help that I am a KB rider because we’re always trying to prove we belong in the lineup. At this point I rarely feel I can’t deal with things in a lineup, but often I know the fight isn’t worth the effort. I’ll voluntarily move out of the space as I don’t like catching scraps. If I have no chance for the sets, I’ll remove myself from the situation to save myself from certain mental crisis. Or a yelling match. This happened a few times at Jeffreys this year and in September 2018 at G-land with 80 guys in the water. Everyone - even your friends - are on a different level and chances are you’re not going to like what you see, so I’m out at that point.

Knowing how much effort went into getting himself into the line-up for those sessions, that’s a pretty big statement, one that we might all be wise to keep in mind every time we paddle out.

Words - Rob Harwood - Legless.tv

Photos: Donny Lopez, John Barber & Courtesy of Greg Holzman

#greg holzman #Rob Harwood #legless.tv #kneeboard surfing #kneeboard Hawaii #hawaii #steen #kneelo #gland #donny lopez #john barber #blast kneeboards

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purewhitepages · 6 years ago

Text

La Retour de Foi Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks so much for all of the support you guys, I really appreciate it. I was really nervous about publishing this fic, but the response has been nothing but positive, I cannot be grateful enough for that. This chapter is a bit longer, and makes good on the second promise of the summary. There is one eureka moment, see if you can spot it.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

The cobblestone lane wound through the town lazily, matching the couple’s attitude. Bree swung their clasped hands between the two of them and Roger smiled at the whimsical gesture. She giggled laid her cheek against his shoulder.

They had dropped off their luggage at the main house. And, with no one else there besides Mrs. Bug, they had ventured into town.

“Where exactly are we goin’?” Roger asked, still smiling.

She shrugged. “Wherever. I’m not that picky.”

Roger stepped up onto the curb, but Bree trailed in the street.

“Ye’re gonna get hit by a car.”

She skipped along the cobblestone street with a smile. “You’ve spent too much time in the city, my lad. No one drives cars in Broch Mordha, everyone knows that.” Like many of the smaller towns in Europe, Broch Mordha had been built long before the invention of cars or even carriages. Most of the streets in the village were narrow and had sharp turns, unlike the wide, and straight roads in America or farther south.

Roger nodded. “A cyclist then. Some lad more taken up with his own self than to watch for lasses in the street,” he teased, a smile on his face.

She laughed as Roger’s phone rang and he sighed. “I’ll be just a moment.” He stepped aside to check it. She tried not to let the worry in his eyes bother her too much. The university where he worked as a researcher was getting tougher as his team got closer to the end of their grant. It took every ounce of persuasion she carried within her to convince him to take this trip north with her, and she intended to make the best of it.

Roger was on the sidewalk with his back turned to her, Bree was standing in the street patiently, and two girls were walking down the street and chatting. Everything happened very fast all of a sudden. A car engine and a flurry of motion out of the corner of her eye. Bree heard a woman shout “Look out!” and she fell to the ground. There was a distinct sound of metal being hit and another body hitting the ground beside her.

Bree’s heart beat very fast as she scrambled over to see who had been hit. A young woman was feeling her head and torso as Bree crouched beside her.

“My god, are you alright?!” She asked.

“I’m fine, just bumped a bit. But everything’s in the right place.” The young woman’s hair had been pulled up into a messy bun before the rush of activity, now her curls sprung free.

Bree would later hear claims that she had acted calmly and cooly, but in the moment all she could think was to get this woman to see her Mum, immediately. “We have to take you to the clinic down the street!”

“It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Bree was incredulous and her blood ran hot at the stranger’s placid demeanor. “You were hit by a car! We’re going to the clinic.” She hoisted the woman to her feet. Roger had come to her side and cursed that he had walked away. Bree assured him that she was fine, but cut off her statement as she noticed the tableau occurring just a few feet away.

“..And just what exactly were ye thinking, ye absolute weapon!” Kitty slapped the young man’s chest once again and he cursed.

“I said I was sorry, leave me alone, Kitty!”

“Ian James Fitzgibbons Murray! Ye just hit my friend with yer car! Ye just wait until Ma hears about this!”

Ian paled at this. “Kitty, dinna tell Ma about this. Please, I’m beginning ye!”

“It’s alright, Kitty. I’m fine. He should watch where he’s going though.” Beee could not believe how calm she was about this whole thing. What had she been thinking, anyway?

Kitty whirled on them. “It’s the principle of the thing, Faith! What’re ye even doing, driving yer car in the village?” She hit his chest again and Ian pushed her away.

“Uncle Jamie sent me on some business outta town and I wanted ta stop by the Printshop before I went home. It woulda been counterproductive to take the car home and then walk to the Printshop, ye see Kitty.”

“Kitty!” Bree said, quite loudly, gaining her attention. She gripped the young woman’s arm and herded her to the car. “Ian, if you drive us to the clinic, I promise that we won’t tell your Ma that you hit someone with your car.”

“What- och, I canna be-”

“Now!” Kitty jumped into the passenger’s seat.

The young woman was wedged in between Roger and Bree in the backseat of Ian’s car. The two Murray siblings continued to argue on the way to the clinic, causing the woman to smile. She groaned a little under her breath and felt her torso lightly.

“A little sore?” Bree asked, eyeing her and she nodded.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You seem very confident in that.”

She shrugged. “I’ve seen and felt worse.”

“Been in a lot of fights?”

Bree saw the thoughts churning in her mind, deciding what to say. “I guess you could say that,” she finally said after a moment. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Faith.”

“You can call me Bree, and that’s Roger over there.” She shook Faith’s hand and the other two repeated the gesture. “My mother is a doctor, we can have you in to see her.”

Faith nodded and smiled at Bree. “Alright, if it makes you feel better. But the most she can do is prescribe me some pain-killer and I hear you Brits are pretty stingy with those.”

Bree shook her head with a smirk. “Maybe most, but if my ma thinks you need them, she’ll give them to you.”

Roger made a face at the both of them. “Ye seem so calm, Faith. How’d’ye know its not something more serious.”

Faith glanced at him and then down. She chewed on her lip. “Well, he can’t have been going more than 10 miles an hour if that and my major organs can’t have taken a lot of impact when how I fell. There will be some bruising, and maybe some sluggishness after the adrenaline wears out, but overall– I’ll be fine.”

Bree furrowed her brow. Faith had spoken so clinically and professionally, as though she was separated from her own body by the diagnosis.

“What are you a doctor?” Bree asked, incredulous.

Kitty finally seemed to clue into their conversation and spun around in her seat, cursing Ian as he took a turn too fast.

“Not only is she a doctor, Bree, but she’s been all over the world. She’s been with Doctors Without Borders and been to Africa and India and Australia.”

Faith grimaced, but nodded. “Australia was for a study abroad I did, though, I didn’t do any doctoring there.”

“Were you really in Doctors Without Borders though?” Bree asked.

Faith reached back and pulled her wallet out of her back pocket, fishing through the contents for a paper before proudly handing it to Bree. She inspected the paper with an eyebrow raised, her French had been very limited since going to University and Bree wasn’t sure what she was looking at.

“That’s a permit to practice medicine,” Faith explained. “That way I don’t have to worry about being licensed so long as I’m with MSF.”

“‘MSF’?” Roger repeated.

“Yeah, we know it as ‘Doctors Without Borders’ but the organization is French, the acronym is for ‘Medecins sans frontieres.’”

“She speaks French too, completely fluently!” Kitty boasted, as if she had taught Faith the language from birth. Faith colored again, but smiled.

“What brings you to the Scottish Highlands?” Roger asked.

Faith didn’t look at him while she answered. Instead she busied herself with putting her permit away, her face going a shade darker. “Eh, my family’s from around here. My mom used to talk about it all the time while I was growing up. I’m going home after this, for good.”

They were at the clinic now and Bree let Faith out on her side of the car. Kitty slammed the door with a huff at her younger brother and the three from the back seat followed behind into the building. The clinic was small, but cozy. And everyone in Broch Mordha had been going here since before Bree’s time, since maybe even before her father’s. They walked through the lobby where Mary, the nurse, was manning the desk that day. She seemed a little surprised to see the quintet of people barging up to her.

“Oh hello Roger, Kitty, Ian. Bree, are you here to see your mum? She’s seeing a patient right now, but I can-”

Bree nodded emphatically. “Actually yes, I need to see her. This is my friend, Faith. Young Ian hit her with his car and she needs to see a doctor as soon as possible.”

Mary’s eyes opened wide and she began to pull paperwork together as Faith spoke up. “I can see the first available doctor, there’s no need to call her away.”

“Mary, don’t do any such thing!” Bree insisted. “She will be seen first.”

“Bree, your attitude is gallant but I’m afraid it’s up to the patient.” Mary looked to the other woman at the counter. “I can move you to the front of the line, but I don’t know when either of the doctors will be ready.”

Faith nodded. “That’s fine, I can wait, and if there’s anyone more serious, you don’t have to move me in front of them.” She gave her information and took the clipboard of paperwork to fill out.

“It’s alright,” Faith asuaded, yet again as Bree looked as though she was going to protest. “Can you help me fill out this paperwork?” This seemed to distract Bree as she followed Faith to the seating area, pointing out spots on the clipboard.

Roger’s eyebrows were nearly meeting his hair at the exchange, having only too well known how hard it could be to calm Bree’s temper sometimes. “How in the hell..” He commented as he went to sit beside his girlfriend. He stopped when he nearly ran into Faith, who was standing stock still, as if frozen. He followed her line of vision to the portraits of the staff of the Broch Mordha clinic.

“Ye alright, lass?” Roger asked and Faith seemed startled..

“Sorry, must’ve dozed off there for a second.” She smiled at him and sat down

“Are you having trouble concentrating? I can tell Mary-” Bree asked, moving to stand.

Faith stopped her. “It’s fine. I can wait. Now, lemme get my passport out-” She reached down to fish around in her bag and Bree relaxed into her chair. Ian was still there, remarkably, and Kitty still seemed cross, but stayed silent for the time being. They made quite the group.

After about a ten minute wait, Bree looked up from the paperwork to see Joe Abernathy walking over to them, making a face at Bree. He seemed amused by the situation, but, then, he’d always had a good-hearted attitude, especially towards the Fraser-Murrays. He scoffed good naturedly at Bree’s insistence that she had nothing to do with the current situation. “Who was driving the car?”

Kitty pointed at her brother beside her. “Ian.”

The boy in question looked up from his phone screen and shook his head in disbelief. “Och, I thought we had a deal.”

“I promised ye I wouldna tell ma, I dinna make any other promises. Besides, he’s a doctor, I canna exactly lie to him.”

Ian groaned. “Well, at least it isna Auntie Claire seeing her.”

Faith glanced at him and then Kitty at those words.

“Would you prefer to see Dr. Fraser, Ms. McTavish, seeing that you’ve been adopted by the clan?” Joe was clearly enjoying the drama from the twinkle in his eye.

Faith glanced once again at Bree and stood. “That won’t be necessary. I’d just like to get out of here.”

She followed him back.

xXx

There was something about this patient that struck Joe as odd, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He decided it must be the familiarity in accent. Though not the same as the true Bostonian he had grown up with, her New England accent endeared him.

“MSF, huh?” he asked, feeling along her abdomen.

She nodded.

“You could make a career out of that if you wanted.”

She smiled at him, but shook her head. “Since I finished med school, I’ve been a bit of a nomad, I think it’s time to plant roots somewhere.”

“Well, if you’re looking to plant them around here, the soil is pretty rich and I don’t think you’ll regret it.” He tilted his head to one side. “Maybe not as exciting as some places, but-”

She shook her head and sat up. “I’ve enough excitement for one lifetime, let me tell you.”

“Yeah I can tell, so much excitement that you had to throw yourself in front of a moving car.” She laughed, face turning slightly red. “Well, take care of yourself, Dr. McTavish.”

She jumped up from the bench and picked up her bag once again.

“Pity you couldn’t’ve seen Dr. Fraser, she was also in MSF.”

Her head jerked up and he swore her skin turned a shade paler. “She was?”

He nodded, eyeing her. She cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll try and time my next heroic act better and maybe I can talk to her about it.”

Joe nodded and let her go, giving her paperwork to turn back into Mary. The day was winding down, and he walked by the office before taking the next patient. Seeing Claire inside, he poked his head in.

“Hey, Lady Jane.” He knocked on the door twice.

She seemed startled and she wiped her eyes quickly, seemingly trying to be discreet.

“You alright?” he asked.

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, sorry, what’s up?”

“Your daughter came in.”

Claire seemed extremely shocked by this but then shook her head. “Was there anything wrong? Why didn’t Mary-”

“She’s fine, she was seeing one of her friends here.”

Claire nodded. “Well that was nice of her.”

“Get this though, the patient I saw was in MSF.”

Claire raised her eyebrows and made an approving noise. “Small world.”

Joe nodded. “Well, just thought you’d like to know. I might take off soon. You in for the night?”

She shook her head. “No, no, I actually need to go home right now, Joe.” She stood and immediately started packing her things.

“You’re acting very strangely, is something wrong?”

“What? No, not at all, I’ve just received some news is all. I can’t go into detail right now, but I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” She pulled the coat off her peg and threw it over her shoulders.

“Is it good news at least?”

She looked back at him, positively beaming. “Really good.”

Chapter 4

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