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sebastianstansqueen · 3 years

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A Beautiful, Terrible Thing 1

A/N: This is the first part, I hope you like it Feedback is always appreciated if you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 1894

Warnings: Abusive parents, aslo distant parents and angst I think thats it

Masterlist // Taglist open // Series Masterlist

Tags: @cherryblossomskye - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2write - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @ginger-swag-rapunzel -

Sir Rhodey stood in the castle shooting range, the youngest prince of the family of Stark, the kingdom he defended, the young boy of the two holding the arrow and bow, Y/n the older sister of the young prince, smirked when he missed the target, Rhodey sent a glare at the young woman. “It’s alright young Prince Aron, you just need more training, don't listen to your sisters snickering.” Rhodey' hand was on the young boy's shoulder.

The dark curls of the boy shook as he nodded. “Yes, Sir Rhodey.” Then he turned and stuck his tongue out at his older sister.

Y/n stood with a look of determination on her face, she marched towards her brother, and took the bow, and an arrow out of his quiver, the cool air of the ocean cut through her hair as she pulled back the arrow on the string. “Princess.” Rhodey Said close to her ear as a hushed warning knowing if any one saw her do what she was thinking about doing she would be in a shit ton of trouble. She released the arrow anyway and it hit the center spot on the target. Her lip twitched and pulled into a smirk.

“Y/n!” Her mother Queen Maria hissed. “What in god's earth do you think you're doing?”

The bow was still in the nine-teen year old's hand. “I’m showing your youngest how to shoot an arrow.” Y/n quipped.

The Queen grabbed the Princess by the upper arm and pulled her roughly to her, making her drop the bow, Rhodey averted his eyes, the older woman of the group led the Princess to the castle.

“She’ll be alright, she’s strong.” The young boy told the tall knight. Rhodey took a deep inhale of air through his nose, and started walking towards the castle, the young Prince followed.

The Queen had pulled Y/n through the castle until they got to her chambers, the Queen pulled open one of the doors and slammed it behind her, she threw her daughter towards her bed, the girl hitting her head on the large wooden bedpost, she put her hand to the back of her head, pulling it to look at her palm, to see blood. “You Are To Marry, Not Fight, A Woman Does Not Have A Use For A Bow!” The Queen yelled at the girl. “Luckly we’ve found a King from the north who would be willing to take you.”

“I will not, and you say that as though I’m a burden.” The Princess hissed.

The Queen looked down at the girl “Oh don’t act as though you aren't, you are to be ready for your journey by tomorrow.”

“I won't go, I will see what Anthony thinks.” Y/n fought.

The mother stepped closer to her daughter; she had lifted her hand so swiftly that the princess couldn’t react before skin met skin. “I am your mother; you will not talk to me as though I am a fool.” The woman left the room, leaving the girl to be, tears stinging her eyes.

The princess marched to her brother's office, and opened the doors where she found her father, King Howard, and her brother. “I assume you heard of the decision.” Her Father said.

Her older brother looked to his father in confusion. “What decision?”

“I and your mother found a man willing to take your sister's hand in marriage.” Their father told him.

Anthony looked at his sister with sadness. “Father, we are the kingdom of Stark, our name alone means honor, and honor doesn't mean treading our family to other kingdoms.”

“Honor means whatever I wish to be.” Howard snapped at both his children. “I assume your mother told you to be ready by morning and that is what I expect too.” Y/n knew to bite her tongue now, so she left the room in silence.

Tony went to follow his younger sister when his father stopped him with a verbal command. “Don’t leave this room until I say so.”

Y/n laid on her bed tears rolling down her cheeks, the door opened. “Issy I’m sorry.” Tony apologized.

“It’s not your fault.” She sniffled. “Why do they treat me as though I am a bastard?”

“You're not a bastard.” Tony told her, and sat on the edge of the bed. “I suppose now that you're nine-teen you should know, amongst our family there are bastards.” The Princesses brows furrowed. “I may be the future King, but our father has always and will always have wandering hands and eyes. I'm going to be honest with you, you're the only legitimate child of this throne, though I’m the firstborn of fathers seed, that's why I will be King as for Aron, he was only took home in mother's womb the seed that made him was impure, you're the only child of both seed and womb.”

“Then Why Do They Want To Get Rid Of Me!” Y/n cried out tears now streaming down her cheeks.

Tony took a deep breath. “Because you're the only one who reminds them that they could love each other.”

“Go.” Y/n simply implied, the Prince left the room. Y/n cried herself to sleep that night, her life falling to pieces in front of her, as long as she had been alive.

She had been woken up bright and early; her ladies got her dressed for her travels, as her things were carried out in large trunks.

For the majority of the carriage ride of the day she was silent; it concerned the ladies. The whole ride to the north was much the same as the first day. When they pulled up to the large stone castle of the north, Y/n got out of the carriage. There stood a man with a black cape lined with fur wrapped close to him, his hair hit to his shoulders, a deep mahogany brown, his blue eyes would make ice envy itself, a dark crown sat atop his head. “Welcome, Princess Y/n.” The girl nodded; the King's brow furrowed. “From what your parents told me you didn’t seem like a mute maybe they lied.”

“Don't insult me.” Her voice was louder than her maidens expected after the silence. Her breath was shown through the air. "I was practically sold to you; you will at least leave me be.” The girl surpassed the King, walking into the castle.

The King, James, smirked to himself as his captain of the guard, Steven walked up to the man. “Is she what you expected?”

“Aye, she is.” James said to him, the men headed into the castle, the Princess stood in the entrance. “I see you couldn’t find your chambers.”

The princess frowned. “No.” She admitted. “I also don’t know any of your staff.”

“I know, let me show you the way.” He told her, walking ahead of her his steps were fast paced compared to hers, her dress dragging her down.

“Do I need to bite my tongue around you.” Y/n's lips pierced.

“I like a firry little one like you that’s why I chose you.” He said to her with a smirk. “Your parents though think I can tame you.”

“They speak of me as though I am a beast.” She hissed out.

“Aye, they do I question why though you seem to be smart.” He told her, as they approached the doors to the chambers. “Here we are, I’d like to have a moment with the princess of the south.” The King said stopping the group.

Y/n’s ladies looked at her hesitantly, not wanting to leave their Princess alone in the presence of a man. Y/n nodded for them to stay they stood near the doors the King opened them, closing them behind the princess. “If you try anything, before the wedding night I'll take your hand.”

The King smirked. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

“It smells of you.” She commented. “And it looks as though a man sleeps in here.”

He laughed. “A man dose sleep in here, princess, North and South are different form each other, like winter and spring.” She whipped her head at as to ask what he means by that. “South men and women don’t sleep together unless there consummating, in the North so long as your promised to them, consummating or not you sleep together.”

“As long as their prom-”

The King cut her off. “There are exceptions to that I suppose.”

“So, this is your-” She felt frustrated now with how the King kept cutting her off.

“Our chambers, I’ll have my servants carry in your things, for now Your ladies will get you something more appropriate for the North.” He told her, the man left the room, then her ladies entered, first dressed in a white dress shirt then a blue over dress along with boots, and fur cloak to go over it all.

“Why all the layers?” Y/n asked her ladies.

“It gets quite cold even in the castle walls.” Wanda answered.

Once dressed, Y/n walked towards the doors to leave the room, that is where she found Captain Steven, he bowed to her. “I’ll lead you to the dining hall your grace.” He said.

“Thank you, Captain.” She nodded to him.

He led her to two great doors, he pushed them open, King’s eyes met yours, they were brightening by the grin on his lips. “Princess I am glad your warm now, come sit with us and feast.”

King James confused The Princess, with how opposite he was to other Kings he was kind and surprisingly respectful and gentle in away, she sat at the table this time it was the kings turn to get confuse. “Why do you sit opposite of me when you are to be my queen?” He questioned.

“You want me to sit on your right?” She asked him.

“Of course.” He answered, she got out of her seat and moved to be at his right. “Y/n you are to be my queen, and until then you are going to be treated as though you are, I’ll make sure of it.”

“King James-”

He cut her off once again. “Please call me James or Bucky.”

Her brows furrowed at the second name. “James, why are you so kind to me, when I'm an out sider?”

“I don’t view you as an outsider, I chose to have you as my wife because of the power I can see behind your eyes, not just because we need an alliance, but because I could see myself loving you, Y/n, I see a pain in you that I want to heel.” He said to her. “I do also want to let you know I’m going to send back your ladies to the south, I want you to learn more about the North.” He informed her.

“I want to keep one from the south here.” She spoke, his brows furrowed showing that he was willing to hear her out. “Wanda she is my closest friend, since I was a child.”

“I understand, more than you think, of course I’ll let you keep someone familiar around.” He smiled; she could tell he was older than her because the little folds by his eyes.

“Thank you, James.” She smiled great fully.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader royal au #royal!reader #princess!reader #bucky x princess!reader #king bucky x princess reader #king bucky x reader #bucky x princess reader

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rayofsunas · 4 years

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baby daddy | kaeya [2]

A/n: so already, in the first five minutes of me beginning to write tumblr decided to delete stuff again, so that’s pretty swag ;-; but nonetheless, I’m alright lmao, I’ve been super happy this week ever since I pulled xiao AND mona after wanting to give up plsss. also, I can’t exactly remember if I gave Klara a age in the last part, so I would just like to clarify that she’s one lol. anyways, here’s part two and I hope you guys enjoy!! it took me four hours to write this

Summary: kaeya wants to set a good example for his children, naturally. so he’s given up a lot of things, one being his excessive drinking. but being a knight is hard, despite how nonchalant he seems and he finds himself slipping sometimes… when you find out about it, you’re less than happy and decide spending time with the children would be a good idea for him. he’s more than happy to spend time with the three little monsters, but, he never realized what a normal day was for you when taking care of them.

Parings: Kaeya/Fem! Reader

Warnings: children, fluff, reader and kaeya are mid 20s, alcohol, Klara and Katheryne are friends because I said so, stan Katheryne she helps us so much-

Word count: 2.3k

The sun was slowly but surely rising, leaving beautiful orange and yellow hues to paint the usually bright blue sky, and Kaeya couldn’t be happier. Unlike the last couple of days, he’d been able to wake up, eat a quiet breakfast with you before the kids woke up though he tried and successfully tried to flirt his way into your already claimed heart, and then when Klara woke up, he got the chance to contently feed the wailing little girl; something he shockingly missed.

Even if at that moment, the tears and cries were a lot more than he could handle, he was more than happy to do something too trivial, just because he was spending more time with her. And unlike the other days, he’d been able to take her for her morning walk, before he’d have to report to headquarters.

Most citizens were still asleep, though very few could be seen preparing for the days work, a few stall owners he noted, as he held Klara’s tiny chubby hand and helped her walk through the town, though she greatly seemed to like speed, already worlds ahead with her mobility.

“Slow down, my little Mist Flower.” She was moving as fast as her little legs could take her, straight towards Katheryne who sometimes gave the little girl trinkets, saying adventurers had brought back things they didn’t wish to keep or had no use for. Even if Klara couldn’t really speak, she knew little things, “Thank you” was one of them, so she was always grateful despite not knowing exactly what they were. And although Katheryne seemed to not be human, some sort of machine with a very robot-like tone, she also made sure to let little Klara know how happy she was to give the youngest Alberich little trinkets.

“Good morning, Katheryne.” Kaeya called, grinning when his daughter’s eyes widened at the mention of the kind receptionist. As the pair approached the young woman, Klara yanked on her father's white cloak, instructing him to lift her into his arms, so she could get a better look, and Katheryne, usually behind the tall wooden counter.

“Oh- good morning, Captain Kaeya!” The woman exclaimed, eyes lighting up when she saw the little girl she adored very much. “And little Klara, good morning.” She was happy to see the pair well, seeing as though she hadn’t seen Klara in days.

“Hi, Kat...” Klara whispered with a shy smile, Katheryne smiled even more because of the use of the nickname she’d been given.

She was just the most adorable little girl ever, Katheryne couldn’t help but think.

All three Alberich children were the sweetest, though obviously, Klara had a sweet place in her heart especially. Adrien was an identical copy of you, sarcastic, very stubborn, but very respectable for such a young age. And Elena was a smart cookie, a young girl who enjoyed questioning and correct everyone and everything that she came across. Lastly, little Klara, who had much growing to do was the pride and joy of the large Alberich family. Everyone adored her and she continuously swayed hearts wherever she went, just her cute curiosity alone was enough to bring a smile to even Wagner’s face, who typically seemed grumpy.

Katheryne felt very lucky to have met them in this lifetime, they were a gift from the Archons, truly. Everyone knew Katheryne as the Adventurer Guild's Receptionist but to Klara? She was Kat, a generous friend who gave her gifts.

Though a sad frown graced the young woman's lips, Kaeya ever so observantly caught on, something was wrong.

“I’m very saddened to say this, but I’m afraid there aren’t any new trinkets suitable enough for little Klara today...” Yes indeed was the receptionist saddened, evident by every feature on her face. “There’s been a shortage it seems of adventurers and travelers willing to take the commissions.” The brunette stated.

“Why is this?” The Cavalry Captain questioned, silently huffing when the one-year-old attached to his hip kept chewing on his white fur cloak, closest to his neck. Great, another issue added to the mix. Maybe she had begun teething again? Archons, Kaeya really felt as though he’d missed so much, seeing as though he couldn’t remember the last time his youngest daughter had teethed or even if she'd stopped entirely together. In short, he probably hadn’t been there for that either, courtesy of his position and job.

“From my understanding, there have been more hoards of monsters, and something about a mutation as well,” Noted Katheryne, watching as the curiosity built upon the man's features. “Would you like to take a few of the commissions? To show Acting Grand Master Jean?”

The part bout there being an abundance of monsters did sound familiar, he’d been hearing about that a lot recently, but mutated forms as well? That was new... He’d have to bring that up today at the briefing, maybe Jean would know more than he currently did.

“None of that will be necessary. I’m heading there now, after I drop Klara off back home, I’ll just forward the information to her personally.” Katheryne nodded, seemingly getting sidetracked and entranced by the bright violet-eyed toddler staring at her, with her father's white fur cloak still in her mouth.

Adorable.

She still couldn’t help but feel bad though. The only trinkets that had been brought back from any scarce, but recent missions were partially damaged swords waiting for Wagner to fix or scrap into new materials.

Such a thing did not belong in the hands of a child, nonetheless the ever so gentle Klara Alberich, she was too sweet for this world to be handed a complimentary sword, even if she had heard Kaeya say the countless amount of times that he wanted to eventually teach each of the children how to use a sword, preferring to start earlier, rather than later. And from Katheryne’s overheard? She now knew it had been somewhat of a topic of discussion between you and Kaeya, causing mini spouts of anger and frustration.

Archons, how she wishes she had something suitable to give the little girl...

Katheryne nervously fidgeted. “Oh and about the trinkets-”

The usual daily gifts Kaetheryne would give to Klara, were absent today. Due to one big factor; adventurers and travelers weren’t taking commissions, therefore, they weren’t bringing back what Katheryne saw as unique finds, but they claimed to have no use for.

“No worries,” He was more worried about the fact that adventurers weren’t taking commissions instead of the usual trinkets Katheryne would give his daughter, nonetheless he offered reassurance. It really was no big deal.

Kaeya indeed was something else entirely, Katheryne concluded. A mind reader, some sort of witch- just different. How had he known without her even saying anything?

She was stunned for quite some time, though still feeling guilty despite his supposed reassurance. The guilt partially stemmed from the fact that Klara was staring so intently at her, with big blue-purple-hued eyes, unknowingly being one of the main stressors of Katheryne’s guilt...

“Klara has too many nicknacks anyways,” You and Kaeya were sure she’d be some kind of trinket collector when she was older, seeing as though she had so many already. “Y/n says you spoil her.” Kaeya’s statement almost sounded like he was scolding her, but if not for the grin and chuckle he offered that immediately followed, she wouldn’t have known he was being entirely playful.

“That is not my intention. She’s just so adorable, I cannot stop myself,” Kaeya laughed, glancing down at the toddler. She was adorable, his little Mist Flower.

“If it bother you or Miss Y/n, I’ll-”

“It’s quite alright, Katheryne, no need to worry,” Kaeya announced smoothly, dramatically waving his hand to show he was dismissing her statements of protest and concern.

“Alright...”

Eventually, Kaeya did take his leave, much to Katheryne’s dismay. She’d probably see Klara tomorrow, if he stayed true to his schedule, so she remained hopeful and excited for tomorrow.

Before he knew it, Kaeya was bringing Klara home, giving you and Elena - who was now awake - hugs and kisses, telling you both to let Adrien know he loved him and that he’d return soon - he was still asleep. And then just like that Kaeya was out the door again and off to headquarters.

No one expected him to be at the Cat’s Tail this late at night, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected nor rare by any means, he was a familiar face after all.

It was unexpected because Kaeya claimed he had given up the incessant and excessive drinking years ago when his firstborn, Adrien graced Teyvat. Sadly, it was expected, because it seemed he’d been in here more in the last week than in the last few years... Though, patrons who often visited the tavern were all betting on the fact that you were entirely clueless to how much he’d been drinking; they were right. You were too busy taking care of the children and training to hopefully join the Knights again, to even keep up with your husband's drinking habits. So, it went unnoticed.

Diluc though, who was often at the tavern, noticed it unlike you. Kaeya had been a great pretender, a great spy; good at keeping secrets, but when he had secrets, somehow Diluc always found himself finding out first, if not second, closely behind you. And unfortunately - Diluc thought - he was on the more personal spectrum concerning the certain Knight... He was his brother, your brother in law, an uncle... He disliked what Kaeya was doing, greatly. Especially since it felt as though his idiotic brother was going behind his family's back. No, he hadn’t promised to quit entirely, but he’d made it seem that way to you. Probably a fabrication so you wouldn’t worry...

Diluc should’ve known he'd find himself back here again, trying to get his once again, idiotic brother, to leave and go home. The pyro user couldn’t understand. His brother had everything he didn’t. A beautifully devoted wife, three amazingly easy children, a status many simple Knights and Guards would kill for; Captain. And he’d rather risk it all for a drink or two, maybe three.

You thought nothing of it. Kaeya was out late a lot, more often than not patrol and paperwork held him from returning home, but on the rare occasions that he had a sliver of free time that wasn’t spent with you and the kids, he was drinking.

You always knew when he wouldn’t be returning, in the form of a letter from Kaeya, stating he was alright but would be staying to do paperwork, etc. It would be brought by one of his underlings, Knights or Guards in training. But when that letter never came, you panicked.

Was he alright? He never forgot to write... Maybe he was held up?

Thankfully, Lisa had decided to come over for tea earlier and had still been here trying her best to reassure you, after seeing how worried you’d been after not receiving any letter.

“You should probably return home, I’ll be alright.” You kept reassuring the librarian, though she wasn’t falling for it. She could practically feel the stress and anxiety oozing off of you, it was concerning.

You could only be thankful Amber had been busy and couldn’t come over for tea or else she would’ve ripped Kaeya a new one when she got ahold of him. He’d never be able to leave for missions again, without getting a reminder from Amber to reach out or else...

“Darling, I’m not leaving until he returns.” She took your hands in hers, hoping to offer you comfort. Lisa had always been there for you, which you were very thankful

She had no prior experience with children, though she was incredible with your own. You figured because she was one of the older members of the Knights of Favonius, she had taken more of a big sister role and the youngers looked up to her wisdom. Though she wasn’t much older than you, only by five or six years, so she was really like an older sister towards you as well. Lisa was a very kind woman, you appreciated her tons.

“Maybe I should go find him? I could ask around...”

“Please don’t stress, Y/n,” Lisa said. “You’re too beautiful to stress. I trust that he’ll be here soon.”

Lisa was in fact right. Kaeya returned soon after she had said he would. Master Diluc knocked on the door close to midnight, hanging off his arm was your drunk husband. When you saw him slumped on his brother's shoulder, you immediately assumed the worst. Maybe he’d been physically harmed. You were under the impression he had stopped drinking.

But then, when you allowed Diluc to step further into the house, you got a huge waft of what you quickly recognized as alcohol. Surprisingly enough for Diluc, you didn’t yell, instead, you just stared at Kaeya with disappointment, gravitating towards him to try and take him from his brother's arms.

“Thank you Diluc, I’m sorry you had to deal with this so late.”

The Ragnivndr wanted to scold his brother, for making a fool of himself and you, leaving you worried and disappointed. But, using better judgment, Diluc just nodded and offered an understanding and apology, on behalf of his out of it brother.

“It’s quite alright, I-”

“I’m sorry he had to come home this way,” Diluc stated, glaring at the taller man.

You hummed, helping Kaeya stumble into your living room, both Lisa and Diluc watching with worried gazes from the door. “Don’t worry, I’m just glad he’s safe.”

Diluc once again, realized his idiotic brother did not deserve you or your kindness and understanding. He was one lucky man, that was for sure.

[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)

@gladly-olus , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree

2.10.21, rayofsunas

#rayofsunas #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #i simp for kaeya so much #this took me 4 hours so pls i hope you enjoy

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tristennedarkmorn · 3 years

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Day 14 - Hollow @daily-writing-challenge

Red wasn’t the only subject of a painting present at Vixannya’s gallery opening last night, the ones that were still alive were invited to come and given VIP status for the entire evening. That turned out to be a pretty amazing perk with the swag bag full of designer clothing and jewelry given to them, and the decadent VIP-only rooms where they could quite literally get anything that their hearts’ desired. Despite his watery, foretold death in the painting, he was in quite good spirits tonight. It was going to be a wild night if he had any say in it.

Already having a plethora of barely-worn suits in his closet, he decided not to get fitted for anything new and instead wore an old, vintage red and black suit that had been custom made by a famous designer who was once a subject of this particular series of paintings years prior. He had died earlier this year, and in the manner that Vixannya had predicted for him. It seemed appropriate.

He watched as others he was acquainted with looked at his painting and slowly realized that this was someone they knew. A wink was delivered to the lovely Tinnaire as she did just that; he knew very little about the woman, but there was a certain darkness he saw in her that he also had seen in Annya. Those two would, no doubt, be easy friends. Ryland, appropriately for him, joked about how it might be him to be the one that finally ends Red as seen in the portrait. Their cavalier attitude towards death meshed well together and the duo could often be seen that evening murmuring and grinning at each other as they examined other paintings.

Sana’s reaction was mostly internalized, as he expected, but it obviously did affect her in some way with her sudden stillness upon recognition. Then there was Kara with her ‘you look really beautiful dead’ comment which made him nearly spit out his drink with laughter. After that, both Red and Ryland decided that it’s probably going to be Kara that finally offs him, just to make the pretty painting come true. Annya had informed him shortly after that his painting had already sold. At first he had thought that maybe Sana had purchased it, possibly to burn it and to never see that image again, but that wasn’t the case. A woman named Maeskia had gotten it for her collection. Red had met her briefly some time ago, but he made it a point to reintroduce himself and wished her many hours of happiness staring at his corpse.

The after party was a whole different beast. It wasn’t his first time attending an Annya party, so he knew exactly what to expect. For at least the first couple hours he kept it relatively tame and mingled with the majority in the first two rooms, holding mostly hollow conversations as everyone drank, smoked, and snorted their way to lowered inhibitions. He freely helped himself to the high-end dusts from the VIP room; that shit was like straight up snorting precious jewels into your system and he had never felt so carefree and alive.

The remainder of the night was spent within the back rooms. While many had chosen to don intricate masks to hide their identity, Red had nothing to hide himself. He may have come from a prominent noble family, but he was hardly recognizable as such these days. There had been a handful of times when he was given peculiar looks or knowing smirks, but no one had ever said anything to his face.

He did catch a glimpse of Camliri staring up at Ryand with hearts in her eyes as he performed on the aerial silks: That woman was in deep. She was old enough to be his grandmother, but with elves that didn’t matter much and Ry always did enjoy his older women that would spoil him. With that outfit, or lack thereof, he would surely at least gain one more sugar mama tonight.

He did eventually venture into the final room, which was aptly named the orgy room after a while by most of the guests. Some of the less brave and the voyeurs stood along the walls, whispering and watching, others only peeked into the room and were immediately scandalized by what they saw. Red instantly spotted Dicenne, that man was hard to miss, lounging naked on one of the central chaises with a glass of whiskey in hand and what appeared to be a noble couple on their knees servicing him together. That dude really was living his best life.

Red had only planned on peeking in briefly at the moment and returning later, but he wasn’t going to say no to the two beautiful women that invited him to join them. The rest of the night was a haze of alcohol, drugs, and sex, and come sunrise when the party ended, it was carried over to someone’s penthouse in Dalaran. He had no idea whose, but there was a promise of a hot shower, breakfast, and definitely more sex. They had him at breakfast.

It was mid-afternoon by the time he woke up, feeling exhausted and sore, but thankfully not hungover. It was very possible he was still drunk and high, so maybe a little hair of the dog was in store when he got home. He collected his scattered clothing and made his way out the door before any of the others could wake up, it was best this way. Taking his comm out of his pocket, he clicked it back on only to be met with a mountain of messages. Most asking if he was still alive after the party, or asking to set up tattooing appointments. Apparently he had done some major networking, good job high Red.

Then, there was the text from Sana: ‘Hey…it was really great seeing you. After a bath and some sleep, I’ll be packing up and heading to the Maw. Whatever happens, know that I have never stopped loving you, and I will love you for an eternity. Take care of yourself and don’t go falling onto any swords. I miss you already. 💋’

He reread it again and squinted, this sounded like she was expecting to die while there. Great idea, go to the Maw after seeing a bunch of paintings of people dying in the Maw. He knew why she felt the need to go, but it was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack, although instead of hay it was actually barbed wire lit on fire. He had urged her to hire a local guide before, hopefully she would heed that advice and realize quickly how impossible this task was going to be. He did, at the very least, understand the need to try to do something, even if it was a stupid idea.

A quick message was sent off in return: ‘Don’t go alone, and try not to die.’

@themagictrick @twosidedsana @kharrisdawndancer @camliristarfallen @maeskia

#dwc2021 #day142021 #story #red

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itsmypeach13 · 4 years

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[Please welcome my first ever fanfic series chapter 1🤭The story contains of f/f relationships, centres around Asassins Creed Valhalla women female Eivor, Soma Jarlskona(the Bear Heart is my own nickname I gave her will be often used 😁), Randvi, Valka and other fictional characters. It is for +18 readership as it may contain explicit language, drinking, sexual intercourses, fighting in battles. Please bare these in mind before reading.]

TALES OF THE BEAR-HEART:SOMA

CHAPTER I.

A Letter from the Wolf-Kissed

Soma's POV:

I opened my eyes swiftly , my head was heavy with the thoughts swirling inside after a sleepless night. A warming beam of light brightened my room as the sun was rising slowly outside. I turned to my side and looked at the empty side of the bed. I ran my fingers slowly on the cold pillow and let out a sigh. It doesn't matter how many girls of Gratenbridgeshire offered themselves to me , this place belongs to Eivor. Well, only in my dreams..she haunts me like a she-wolf hunrgry to taste meat and blood. And I would always face this wolf, giving in and letting my walls down for her, but this world was apart from reality.

I had a jarldom to rule and protect my people, today was no different either. Just when I finished dressing up I heard knocking on the door like a bear would rant at me from outside.

'Splendid morning Soma, I know you had fun with that blonde amazon last night, I came to make sure we arrive on time , so get your ass out here.'- Revna greeted me with her raspy voice. She was my right hand in ruling the town , my finest warrior and my best friend in one tall, brunette woman. She was even taller then Eivor and always carried two hammers on her sides. Her weapons put many fine men in the grave , Revna was a beast on the battlefield, but a big hearted puppy to her loved ones. She and I grew closer after Birna left us, I needed somebody to trust.

'You think yourself a seeress of all.I haven't slept a bit, even without any ladies invited in my bed-I stepped out of the door grinning, and placed my hand on her shoulder.' Don't worry my friend, Cheolbert must be still sleeping like a baby.

We both headed to the longhouse as Cheolbert arrived late at night and asked an assemby in the morning. I didn't know what was it about, so I felt curious to know. I peaked towards the main entrance seeing jarls arriving on horseback from the neighbouring jarldoms. It must be either a wedding or war ahead of us, I thought to myself.

'What is on your mind Soma? You seem a bit worn-out this morning.-Revna questioned me by gently pushing my right arm. I didn't want to tell her the truth , that Eivor was the cause of my insomnia.

'Everything is fine Revna , it was full moon yesterday and you know well I can't sleep when it comes'-I assured my shield maiden. 'We have a long day ahead of us, I count on you if we have to fight side by side again.'

Revna silently nodded and hurried to the front of the assembly. The longhouse was filled with people, curious eyes were glued to Cheolbert who stepped in , wearing a glorious red and white cloak and black learher tunic. Our eyes met and he signalled me he wanted to speak in private at the side first.

We both went to the map room, his blue eyes were narrow and mysterious. I gave him a welcoming hug.

'Cheolbert my dear friend, I swear you've grown a feet since we last met.'-I teased.

' Soma, good to meet again, I wish the circumstances were different.'

'What happened? '-I grew impatient and started walking up and down.

'Eivor told me to hand over this letter to you first'.-he held out a letter with a raven seal. I turned my back so that he can't see my face, and I felt the world around me spin. Is she in trouble? Is she alright?

Dear Soma,

I write you in haste now, as your rotten friend Brina , whom you kept so close to your heart as a pet has betrayed all of us. She is a serpent who slyly earned your trust. She got married to Ivarr the Boneless and they sworn revenge on both Ravensthorpe and Gratenbridgeshire. Ivarr wants to be king of this continent...son is like farher. Their fleet is now close to us, we must unite our men and act swiftly. Please come as fast as you can to Ravensthorpe. I already informed your neighbours, I sent Cheolbert to gather all the men at Gratenbridgeshire.

When we win there will be a cause of celebration I sware to you dear. With all my thanks.

Eivor the Wolf-Kissed

My heart grew heavy with disappointment and sadness over hearing what Birna brought for our people. After all I had two friends betray me, I will cut the throat of this traitor too I swore to myself.

I felt blood rush to my cheeks as the word 'dear' was ringing like a bell in my head. The wolf could play mind games with me even if she wasn't here.

The assemby was quick, I told my people to gather every man to fight for the woman who made this place a safe home for us. I climbed up to my black mare after putting on my silver and blue gear and dictated a rushed tempo for our horses on the way to Ravensthorpe, so our army arrived the same afternoon. I held my back tightly and confident in my straddle to show people a firm leader. As we rode closer to the gates a flood of excitement gripped my stomach. It was funny because I feared not the bloodshed of war or heavy strikes of axes, but seeing the deep blue eyes of Eivor again. Too afraid what I would see in the reflection of her endless iris. Just when I was confident enough to let the idea of the two of us together go , I knew it well the depth of her eyes will eat me alive again. Somehow Freya threads our paths in the same direction? Why does she condemned me to suffering?

***

As I got off my mare at the entrance of the longhouse Valka humbly walked up to me and greeted with a tusk of her best mead. It was a secret recipe I was obsessed with so Eivor sometimes sent a few barrells to me. Valka made the sweet liquid with a hint of star anise and petals of orange jasmine.

'Now that you are finally here the universe is balanced'- she winked handing over the mead. I had no idea what she mean by that, but I gratefully accepted and took a long shot.

'Thanks Valka, I am happy to see my favourite seeress. -I winked at her and slightly raised my tusk.' May this give me strength and fortune on the battlefield.

'Freya will have her hand on your shoulder , she has plans with you.'

This conversation made me suspicious Valka had a vision of the future and it seems I am the part of it. Anyhow, I was sure of one thing, my duty is to be here and help.

'I can't wait to fulfill my destiny, my friend. Whatever the future holds I am ready to take it in.'

In that moment Eivor rushed out of the longhouse seeming quite annoyed with something her rough hands forming into fists. She looked astonishing, deadly in her black and gold armor, the axe of her father as a token swagged on her side. Even if it was a brief moment, I saw her eyes widened at the sight of me, her look pierced into my soul when she smirked at me. She was saying without words that she was grateful that I came and trusted me, this filled my heart with warmth and my chest swelled.

'Dear Soma' -she spoke with her deep, raspy voice that was stealing my sanity every time I heard her close.'I knew you would come and aid us in the moment of need.'-she took my right hand for a moment then let it fall back.

'You know I'll always be there like a true friend. It's my pleasure.-Eivor's smile ended at the word friend, but people around us were staring and we weren't more than that behind their backs either.

To cut off our slightly awkward meeting, Randvi stormed out of the wooden bulding her cheeks burning, and arms folded. She looked like a child who didn't get the piece of cake. I wondered what happened between those two in there. In the second she caught a glipse of me and Eivor standing quite close , Randvi joined between us and politely thanked me to bring a huge force here. She was a perfect diplomat and an impeccable service around me after that.She arranged a dinner for only the leaders and jarls to lay out the plan for tomorrow's battle. We decided to surprise Birna and Ivarr and hide our best archers in the woods until they ride towards the gates. I must admit I can see now why Eivor loves Randvi. The copper-haired woman was not only beautiful with soft features, but intelligent in a way that humiliated the man leaders here.

It felt extremely hard to look at Randvi and listen to the details as I felt my helpless jealousy hit me like a wave. It angered me how Eivor drunk every word she uttered her eyes sometimes wandered lover than Randvi's lips.

After dinner I wanted to retreat to my tent as soon as possible , the sight of Eivor and Randvi in the same room sickened me. Before I could do that Randvi came to me with a letter.

'Soma, wait. Let me give this letter to you.' she instructed quickly.

'Who is it from?'-I enquired furrowing my brows with second guessing.

'It's uh..from me actually...-she hesitated then blurted out' there are certain things you better read than hear me say it out loud.'

This fucking woman had guts to speak to me like that..I knew it was intently personal. She must have heard rumors of Eivor's visits to me sometimes, but hardly knew the wolf was only hers not mine for a single bit.

'How thoughtful of you. The rumors are true , you really have balls in spite of being a shieldmaid. I will read your bedtime story later, now if you excuse me.' Randvi 0-Soma 1. Every inch of me wanted to tear off she seal and read it right away but I waited until I was left alone in the provacy of my tent.

Jarl Soma,

Please let me be honest and plain with you. Eivor's invite here was merely political. I know more than anyone how she behaves around women to get what she wants. I have firsthand experience in that. But you have to know Eivor doesn't look at you like a woman, she told me she sees a long lost older sister in you. If I were you, I would think twice what I let people gossip about and make a fool of myself.

Randvi

In the second I finished reading I crumpled the piece of paper and thowed behind my back. Her words were agressive and protective just like a female wolf and I could feel Randvi's bite marks on my neck.

I decided not to believe anything until I asked Eivor.. oh but how could I do that? The wolf would realise I cared about her in a different way, and I couldn't let that happen until she gives me something. A flickering sign in the hollowing darkness I am living in.

I decided to visit Valka and have drinks together, I desperately needed somebody to keep my mind of this mess I became part of.

***

The little hut stood with watchful eyes on the slight hill close to the village. There were died flowers hanged outside and a sweet smoky and flowery scent filled my nostrils. As I get close I recognized Valka now wearing a red gown with hood on her head. She looked like Freya preparing a love potion as she was pouring something in a tusk and put some petals on the top.

'Good Evening Valka.. I hope you don't mind my late night visit. I just needed some of your special mead I guess and my feet brought me here' I stared to her fiery reddish brow eyes. She had neat tattos on her face forming dots and gentle marks on her smooth skin.

'I knew you would come tonight, so I prepared this mead with some herbs that will rock you in a pleasant slumber.'she handed over the tusk , the liquid looked like shiny rubies.

'How is that you always know better what I need than myself?-I smirked at her and found comforting in her eyes.

'A gift from the gods my lady-her eyes had a mysterious spark in them, a little dimple formed on her face from smiling.

'Come sit with me inside, it is getting cold out here.'

I nodded and followed the seeress into the firm hut, theought the entrance ornamented with animal bones and more dried flowers.

There was a freshly lit fire inside warming up my limbs and cheeks. It also colored the space with wrath orange that played on our faces like the sunset.

'Now tell me, what makes your heart heavy?'-she asked with care.

'I think I feel a bond to Eivor that is irrational and grows between us every time we meet. It is like an invisible string pulls me towards her maybe it's the wish of the Gods.-I sipped bitterly in the mead , a slight soothing feeling ran through my body.

'We both know our fate is inevitable, so you have to show what's inside your heart first.' -Valka looked deeply in my eyes. -You are Soma, our fearless Bear warrior sent by Freya to our aid and to fight on Eivor's side.

'Randvi told me Eivor loves me with a sisterly care.. I image she is right., look at her, she could have anybody.

'Don't listen to Randvi , she is hurt and trapped in her own feeling of helplessness. If she can't have Eivor accepted by the public, then nobody can'-Valka nodded and squuezed my hand.

'I just can't trust people anymore Valka. My love towards people turned into a bitter storm inside me.-Except for Revna, I couldn't trust a soul, not even Eivor. She didn't reveal her hidden side to me.

'Just talk to her in the morning, it will ease your turmoil Soma.-she winked and headed to bed. To my utter surprise she started to undress in front of my sleepy eyes, they popped in surprise no matter the mead.

Valka's toned back was shining under the wrath orange fireligt, she revealed her impeccably and naked body.

'Good night Valka, I have to get some sleep now. Thank...you...for uh.. everything!' I mumbled to her and hurried to my hut until I was able to stand still. Before sleep my head was filled with Eivor's piercing eyes and... I was a bit surprised but Valka's slender back flashed through as well. Damn, this woman was also fine. Like all women!

My eyelids felt to heavy , soon enough I was fast asleep like a newborn baby.

#fanfiction #eivor #ac eivor #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #ac valhalla #lady eivor #assassin's creed valhalla #eivor wolfsmal #ac soma #somabearheart #soma jarlskona #eivor x soma #ac valhalla fanfic

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summahsunlight · 4 years

Text

Worth the Risk, Part 10

Rating: Mature(18+only)

Word Count: 1581

Pairing: Army Pilot!Poe Dameron x Nurse!Reader (1940s AU)

Summary: It’s the 1940s, Army pilot and Captain Poe Dameron is flying on missions for the United States Army in Europe. After being shot down off the coast of France, Poe wakes up in an Army hospital in England, to find you, a nurse, taking care of him. Throughout the process of his recovery, Poe finds himself falling for you, and even though you, for the most part, maintain a professional relationship with him–you’re falling for him as well. Both of you know the risks of falling in love during a war, but then again, both of you have never cared much for being cautious.

Taglist: @fanfic-addict-98, @thescarletknight2014, @blushingwueen, @americasass-romanoff, @ginger-swag-rapunzel, @spider-starry, @totelpoedameron, @captain-america5, @liadamerondjarin, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess

Hello lovelies! Here is the next part. Hope you enjoy it, please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. Likes, comments, asks, and reblogs are always welcome🥰

June 7, 1944

Dear Mrs.Wexley,

By the time you read this letter, I am sure the Army has dispatched a Chaplin to your house to inform you of Temmin’s passing. Your husband was the best friend any man could ask for and I miss him, dearly, already even though he has only been gone for a few hours. Everyone keeps telling me that I did what I could, that it was amazing I even got my plane back to the base in the first place. The fact is, I could have done more, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. You and your daughter deserved to welcome Temmin home from the war with open arms, not in a casket. I’ve been told it is not my fault but I will bare the burden of the guilt for the rest of my life, whether it ends tomorrow or ends decades from now. I only hope that you can forgive me for the loss of your husband. As his commanding officer, it was my responsibility to keep him and the others safe. I failed him, I failed you and your daughter.

Temmin gave me a letter just before our mission to Normandy. He wanted you to have something incase he didn’t make it back. I hope that his words give you comfort during this time of grief.

With my deepest condolences,

Captain Dameron

----

Poe gripped the edge of the sink in the officer’s barracks. It had been a month since that fateful flight over Normandy, since Snap had died. There had been other flights since then, other losses, but losing the man he considered his best friend was still hitting him the hardest.

Splashing some cold water on his cleanly shaven face, Poe reached for a towel and tried to wipe the exhaustion away. He dressed in his uniform quickly and proceeded to check on his plane. After Snap’s death, as well as the radio operator, Poe and Arana had been flying in fighter planes. Their C-47 had been badly damaged and scraped for parts. The mechanics had been awed that Poe had even managed to get the plane back to England.

He liked flying in the fighter; it was faster, he felt more alive and free in that plane. Your picture was still taped to the panels, his constant reminder as to why he was fighting in this damn war. Poe was thankful your unit had moved to Normandy with them, even if he went days between seeing you. The Allies aggressive push into France was costly--wounded were coming in daily, some days worse than others. Which was why he was pleasantly surprised to see you standing near his fighter that morning.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Poe said, grinning at you.

“Hello, handsome,” you replied, returning his smile.

Poe felt his heart swell with love for you when the ring around your neck caught the sunlight and shimmered. You had tried to give it back to him after D-Day; he’d refused. He wanted you to have it. Once this war was over he was going to buy you a proper engagement ring and properly propose to you--asking your father’s permission and all--but for now, his mother’s wedding band having a home around your neck was enough of a promise for him.

You caught him looking at the ring and instantly felt a blush spread across your cheeks. You knew what the ring symbolized for him--Iolo had given you a drunken history on it a few nights ago--but even before Arana’s colorful interpretation, you knew how special this ring was to Poe. It made your heart happy that he felt you were special enough to keep it.

His hands reached for your waist and he drew you to him, placing his lips upon yours in a soft, sweet kiss. “This is a welcomed surprise this morning. I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

Gently you adjusted his uniform. “Doctor Skywalker thinks I work too hard; he wanted me to take a few hours to myself. I’ve trained my nurses well; I trust that they’ll take care of my patients.”

“I like this Doctor Skywalker way more than Doctor Hux.”

“Me too.”

“Lucky for you, I’m not scheduled for any missions today.”

“So, we can spend some time together?”

Poe took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. He laced his fingers through yours and began to lead you away from the airfield. It was very rare that both of you had free time and he wanted to make the most of it, even if it was just taking a walk down to the nearby town and grabbing some coffee. Being with you eased the pain of Snap’s passing and the guilt Poe felt surrounding his friend’s death.

You know how hard it had been for Poe, not being able to escort Snap’s body home, to attend his funeral. His death had deeply affected him and you worried about how much more Poe would be able to take. Spending time in town helped you forget for a little while that there was a war around you. The people were grateful that the Allies had liberated them and many of them were very kind to you. Having coffee at a bistro made your life almost feel normal again.

He paid for your coffee and the muffin you wanted for breakfast; you noticed the older woman behind the counter look at him approvingly and then winked at you when Poe wasn’t looking. You laughed silently and followed him to a small table. Immediately, your senses were overtaken by the smell of freshly brewed French coffee and Poe’s spicy cologne.

As you ate your muffin and sipped your coffee, Poe kept his free hand on your knee, gently stroking it while you talked. He loved touching you in any manner, whether it was when you were alone in your room and he was making your body sing with pleasure, or when you were out in public, where he could caress you with soft, affectionate touches.

“Does your dad like coffee?” you asked, breaking Poe’s intense thinking.

“Kes Dameron bleeds coffee,” Poe said with a laugh.

“I can’t wait to meet him. Do you think... do you think he’ll like me?”

“He’s going to love you, darling.”

Sighing, you smiled. “I hope so.”

Poe lifted his hand from your knee and grasped your chin, pulling you towards him for a kiss. “I know he will, Y/N. How could he not love you?”

You were sure you could think up some answers, but looking at your watch you realized that you had to get back. The town doctor had been murdered by the Nazis during the occupation--you’d put some bits and pieces together as to why throughout your stay here and it always sent shivers down your spine when you thought about it. Because there was no town doctor, you and a couple of the other nurses accompanied Doctor Skywalker on visits to the townspeople that needed medical care. “I have to go--we have house calls to make.”

He frowned and looked at his own watch. “Yeah, I have a briefing with Major Antilles--Iolo will probably kill me if I’m late again.”

“Then we don’t want you to be late.”

“You’re right; we don’t.”

Poe took you by the hand once again and led you back to base. He hated that your morning together was going to end. He walked you all the way back to the hospital, kissed you one last time like he wasn’t going to see you for days--which was a very real possibility.

Leaning into his kiss, you wished that you had more time to find a private place but there wasn’t any time. The jeep that was taking you, Doctor Skywalker, and the other two nurses to the house calls was already waiting for you. Leaving a lingering kiss on his lips, you stepped back and went to get into the jeep.

He stood there watching it go until he could no longer see it. Poe let out a heavy sigh and turned about to go to his meeting. After all, the war wasn’t going to stop just because you wanted to spend more time together.

-----

By mid-afternoon you had already made several visits.

There were still a few more to go when Doctor Skywalker realized that you were not going to have enough supplies to finish the calls. You volunteered to head back to the base to get them and one of the soldiers that had come with you for protection offered to drive you back.

You had been enjoying the lovely countryside while you drove along, chatting with the young man at the wheel. He was from Brooklyn, the oldest son of six, and he missed his family. He was mid-sentence when a single shot rang out...

....blood spattered over the windshield and your face as the bullet took the driver out, killing him. The jeep served violently and tipped over into a ditch and you screamed, terrified that this was the last thing you were ever going to see.

Unimaginable pain shot through you entire body and just before you blacked out, you saw the scuffed boots of a man approaching the wrecked jeep. The final prayer you had as you slipped into unconsciousness was that this man was not the Nazi sniper coming to finish you off.

#my writing #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe x reader #poe x you #1940s AU #100 followers celebration #worth the risk

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 25

Warnings: none really

Tagging: @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @thorsbathroomchicken

It's seven thirty in the evening when they park three blocks away from the Slainte pub; sidewalks crawling with pedestrians, streets packed with cars, restaurant patios standing room only and offering up not only booze and traditional Irish and American dishes, but live music as well. At first neither of them move or speak. The only sounds the clicking of the cooling engine and the muffled sounds of conversations and laughter filtering in from the outside world. Tyler grips the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white; his eyes dark and stormy, brow furrowed, lips set in a thin, stern line. Everything is telling him that this is a bad idea; that aching pit in his stomach, the tightness in his throat, the anxiety that sits heavily on his chest. He's tempted to just say 'fuck it' and turn the car back on and return to the hotel. Or to actually accompany her to her destination; sitting inside as opposed to being separated by hundreds of feet and walls of brick and glass.

“You have to trust me. Tyler.”

Her voice plays over and over in his head. It isn't that he doesn't trust her. He trusts her with his life. With his children's lives. It's that the threat of losing her is becoming all too terrifyingly real. The thought that anything could happen while she was in there alone. Someone in that bar could have seen her at the hotel or with him out on the street or at the airport and 'make her' as soon as she stepped through the door. If they know who she is...who she is tied to...it's game over. There is no coming back from what will happen to her. They will beat her. Rape her. Torture her. For days on end until they finally got their fill. And then they'd kill her. It has happened before; women tied to mercenaries captured and unbelievably savagery and brutality unleashed on them. Even if they did manage to survive, the effects and the trauma were long lasting. Life altering. And it's fate that is just too painful to consider.

He thinks of his kids. At the thought of actually having to do it alone. Raise them as a single father. And it makes him nauseous. His head pounds; sweat gathers at his temples and upon his brow. And he reaches into the side pocket of his cargo pants and takes out a bottle of anti anxiety meds; twisting open the cap and dumping four into his mouth.

Esme notices but says nothing. Simply resting her hand on his thigh and and giving it a tight squeeze. She never judges him; she knows his struggles with mental illness. The effects of his PTSD and depression. The often crippling anxiety. All seemingly kept at bay until McCann had stepped into their lives and torn it all to shit.

She moves beside him now; grabbing the laptop bag that rests between her feet, pulling those fake eyeglasses from a side pocket and slipping them onto her face. “Well?” she inquires, and turns to face him. “What do you think?”

He can't help but smile. She looks years younger. With that fresh face devoid of any make up and shimmering red hair and those freckles across the bridge of her nose. Looking the part of the working girl in a simple pair of black dress slacks and a cream short sleeved blouse that plunges just far enough to both capture attention and send any mortal man's curiosity into overdrive.

“I think you should get glasses for real,” he replies, and leans across the front seat to kiss her. He can taste her tinted lip gloss; a mix of coconut and strawberry. And he wishes he could keep kissing her forever. “Are you sure about this?” he asks. “I need you to be sure about this.

“I'm good,” she assures her. “Are you sure about this?”

“No,” he admits. “I'm not.”

“I'll be okay,” she promises, laying a hand on the side of his face and pecking his lips. “I've got this. I know what I'm doing. Just hold up your end of the bargain, okay? You only come in if you hear something going wrong.”

“It'll be too late if I wait that long.”

“Give me a chance,” she implores. “If I'm not out in twenty minutes, then come in and get me. Don't talk to anyone, don't make every contact. Just walk in and grab me and we leave. But I need at least twenty to get anything out of these people. Even if it's just names of other people to talk to.”

“There's a restaurant across the street. I'll be waiting there. On the patio. When I see you come out, I'll wait until you've turned the corner and then I'll catch up. Okay?”

She nods.

“I don't like this. Not one fucking bit.”

“It's going to be okay, Tyler. You just have to trust me.”

He nods, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “Just be careful.”

“I will,” she vows, a gentle smile curving her lips, so much love and adoration in her eyes and written all over her face as she reaches up to push his hair away from his eyes. She gives him on last peck on the lips and then opens the car door, stepping out on the street and slinging the laptop bag over her shoulder. Shooting him a smile and a small wave of the fingertips before crossing the busy street.

He watches through the rear view mirror as she goes. Then waits until she disappears around the next corner before climbing out himself.

****

He arrives first; his gait longer and quicker. And he takes a seat at one of the remaining tables on the restaurant patio. A table for four; sitting in the very middle, facing the other side of the street and the busy pub that is their target. Taking in the surroundings; the bouncer at the door, several couples sitting outside under umbrellas emblazoned with the Guinness logo, an acoustic guitar player completing the equipment set up before his gig. Through the pub's front window he can see the wet bar that stretches all the way from front to back; a handful of customers on the stools, a waitress moving around with notepad and pen in hand, a lone bartender tending to thirsty patrons.

He orders a beer and pretends to be interested in seeing a a menu. Even the littlest things can spark suspicion,and it's better to be safe than sorry. And he's just slipped his sunglasses onto his face when Esme finally rounds the corner, and he sees the nervous way she tucks her hair behind her ears and constantly looks over her shoulder. It's been a long time since she's done something like this. Walked into the unknown and lied and conned to get her way. But it's like riding a bike; once you hit the right stride and your confidence comes back

She pauses before approaching the door, casting a glance in his direction. A tiny smile tugging at her lips.

He raises his hand in a small wave, then gives her a reassuring smile of his own, followed by a stiff nod. Sipping his beer, watching over the rim of the glass as she briefly engages with the bouncer, flashing the hulking man a dazzling smile before reaching into the pocket on her pants and pulling out one of the fictitious business cards that Nik had made up. Chatting amicably, gesturing animatedly with her hands, cocking her head to the side and giving that flirtatious little grin that he knows so well. He hates it. Seeing her that way with other men, Whether it's for a job or not. And he'd never considered himself a jealous or possessive man. Until her. And he actually frowns when she lays a hand on the other man's bicep. Legitimately angry at how the younger man is so obviously checking her out; the way he gallantly opens the door for her and then his eyes focus on her ass as she steps inside.

Gulping down a mouthful of beer, he takes his SAT from the side pocket of his pants and sends Nik a quick and simple text.

SHE'S IN.

*****

The wooden floors are scuffed and bowed; peanut shells and wood shavings cracking under the soles of her heels. It fits every stereotype that her mind has ever held of an Irish pub; Guinness on tap, the smell of fish and chips hanging heavily in the air, polished wood tables and booths, chairs and stools and benches clad in rich green vinyl. The Tiffany glass swag lamps that hang over diners as they eat, the dart pools and pool tables taken up by the young and old alike.

She notices the attention she attracts; a fairly young woman clad in modest business attire, the black patent pumps and the vibrant hair. She feels the eyes on her with each patron she passes; the curious, the intrigued, the suspicious. A fresh face in a place like this is bound to turn some heads, and puts an extra sway in her hips as she walks, licking her lips and making them glisten, shy smiles for the men her age and younger, broader and more friendly ones for the elderly gents. It's been a hell of a long time she's had to play that game; lure men in, giving them a false sense of confidence, encouraging them to approach yet not wanting to come across as too eager. She's missed it. The sense of satisfaction that you get when you know you've got someone on the hook and you just keep reeling them in until they're eating out of the palm of your hand.

“May I?” she address an older man as he drinks at the bar, casting a glance down at the overcoat and the copy of that day's paper that sits on the stool beside him.

“Of course, love. My apologies,” he hurriedly removes the items, then gallantly offers a hand to help her up onto the stool.

“A gentleman,” she muses, and curls her fingers around him, accepting the gesture with a smile.

“Can I buy you a drink, love?” he sounds a little too eager. But he's encouraged by the fact that a woman more than half his age has chosen the seat beside him...out of all the empty stools remaining at the bar...to perch herself upon.

“I'd love to accept, but I'm actually on the job.”

“Something non alcoholic, then. Just to quench your thirst.”

She relents, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Billy!” he calls down to the bar keep, a younger man that leans against the end of the bar, watching soccer on the flat screen mounted on the nearby wall.

Esme estimates his age; twenty five, thirty at the most. Tall and and thin but blessed with broad shoulders and a wide back. Rowing perhaps. Maybe even swimming. A brush cut that draws attention to the thick silver hoops in each ear lobe and the tribal tattoos that decorate each side of his thick, strong neck. Faded and well fitting blue jeans. Doc Marten boots. A black and red button down plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and a white tee underneath. Casual, yet well put together. And he regards her suspiciously as he wanders towards them, both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.

“Something for my new friend here,” the older gentleman says. “And another for me. “

“Just a diet coke,” she orders with a smile. Not too broad. Not too dazzling. Just right to break the ice. It's a process; some people are more easily charmed than others. She can tell he's going to be more of a challenge. If she seemed too friendly and chatty, it would turn him off from continuing a conversation. Too standoffish and he won't even engage. “Busy in here tonight. Is it always like this?”

“One of our most busy Thursdays,” the bartender confirms, as he moves way to gather their drinks.

“I'm sorry love,” the man beside her speaks up. “But I didn't catch your name,”

“That's because I didn't give it to you. Patience is a virtue, after all.” She pulls out her cell phone...her personal line...and uses the front facing camera as a ruse to fix her make up and touch up her hair, sneaking a picture of the young bar keep as he pours a stein of Guinness. She slips her phone back into the laptop bag, then turns to the older man with her hand out. “I'm Meghan. Meghan Young.”

“George,” he says in return, politely shaking her hand and then going the extra step of pressing his lips against the top of it. “You're not from around these parts, are you? An outsider. What brings a pretty young lass like yourself to these neck of the woods?”

“Business,” she offers a smile of gratitude as the bar keep places her drink in front of her, then takes the plastic straw behind her thumb and forefinger and places just the tip between her lips, eyes never leaving Billy's as she takes a long pull. “I'm here for work,” she continues, and removes one of the business cards from the side pouch on the laptop bag, placing it on the top of the bar and then sliding it across with the tip of her finger.

“What kind of business?” George inquires, sitting sideways on his stool now, leaning towards her ever so slightly.

Billy picks up the card, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads the information. “Journalist.”

“For the Chicago Tribune.”

“And they send you all the way here on business?”

“They send me everywhere. Nothing can stop a reporter from chasing a good story. And I've stumbled upon quite the winner, here. I was hoping maybe you gentleman could help me. Give me a little information. Or at least point me in the right direction.”

Billy slips the business card into the breast pocket of his shirt, then leans back against the bar, arms folded across his chest. “What kind of information?”

She leans forward, elbows on the bar, hands clasped around the glass of soda. “I received an anonymous tip. From someone in Chicago that has connections. To the IRA.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the way George's eyebrows shoot up, mug of beer pressed to his lips. “Is it true. That this place is owned by a member.”

George is more forthcoming with the information, eager to please and impress. “Indeed it is. Been in the same family for more than fifty years. All of them in the IRA. What makes you so interested?”

“I've heard there's some trouble brewing.” she keeps her voice low. “Between the IRA and one of their ex members. Who has ties to a New Zealand crime family.”

George nods enthusiastically, then looks at the young bar keep. “She's talking about McMann.”

“How do you know of him?” Billy asks her.

“I already said. An anonymous source with his ties to the IRA.”

“What's his name?”

“A journalist never, ever gives up her sources. I'm sure it's the same way with you. I'm sure you'd never out one of your informants would you.”

His smirk grows.

“Look,” she sips at her drink, then taps her fingernails against the glass. “Journalism is a dying art these days. Everything is on the web. There's no substance. No spice. There's no one out there delving into the hard topics and writing truly valuable human interest stories. I want to bring that back. I want to bring back the passion for the written word. A story like this could launch my career. I could really make a name for myself. And I'd really appreciate if you'd help me out. If not now, then maybe we can arrange something? Talk in private?”

He nods down at her wedding band. “You're married?”

“Separated. He's out of the picture. Chose work over me. What's the saying? His loss is another man's game? I really, really, really want this,” she adds a slight plea to her voice. “Badly. And there's nothing I wouldn't do to get the information I need. Is it true? That the IRA kidnapped McMann's wife and son's?”

Billy shakes his head. “Rumour. We...they...had nothing to do with it. It's that crime family you mentioned. Trying to stir up trouble.”

“Do you think we could arrange something? Perhaps I could come back after hours? Or during the day when it isn't as busy?”

He nods, a slow grin spreading across his face. “We can definitely arrange something.”

“And I was thinking...” she runs the sides of her fingers along her straw, her eyes never leaving his. “...it would really help if I could get more than one perspective on things. Perhaps someone higher up the chain of command? A boss? Someone with a little more...pull?”

“I could arrange something.”

“You're a life saver, William,” she shoots him a wink, and she sees the slight blush that creeps into his cheeks at the use of his full name. “Here...give me your hand...” she motions for him to do as asked, and when he steps forward, palm down, she turns it out to face her. Then fetches a pen from her back and scrawls her SAT number into his skin. “This is a better, more private line to reach me on. Non work related. If you catch my drift.”

“Oh I catch your drift alright,” he says, and then gives her hand a squeeze before she pulls it away.

She pulls her cell phone from her back, gasping dramatically when she checks the time. “I'm running late. I have another place to be. More people to talk to. It was a pleasure, William. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Pleasure was all mine,” he declares. “I'll be in touch.”

She flashes him a dazzling smile. “I hope so. George...” she lays a hand on the older man's back, rubbing softly as she slides off the stool. “You're a gentleman. And incredibly charming. Thank you for the drink.”

“Hope to see you again,” he calls after her, as she slings the laptop bag over her shoulder and heads for the door,

******

Tyler glances down at his cell phone.

Five minutes to go.

He sips his beer, leans back in his chair, nervously rubs his palms against his thighs. The world continues around him; despite the fact that fifteen minutes ago his entire life...his heart...disappeared through the front door of the pub across the street. He hasn't felt the effects of the booze and the anxiety meds; his nerves and senses still on high alert. Eyes always watching. Ears pricked for any hint of trouble across the street. His stomach in knots, chest tight. He can't sit still. He drums his fingers against the table top, nervously shakes his legs or taps his foot, runs his hands through his hair, chews absentmindedly on the corner of his thumb nail. A frown crossing his face when someone deliberately plants their body in front of him. And he's about to look up and ask them what the fuck when a voice beats him do it.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

What in the actual fuck? He thinks, and glances up. Nostrils flaring. Brow furrowing. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Thought I'd pop by,” Mark says, hands shoving his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “Esme's inside, isn't she,” he nods in the direction of the pub across the street.

“What the hell do you want? Why are you here? How the hell did you find me?””

“I know how to tap cell phones. You used your private one about ten minutes ago. This is where I tracked you to.”

Oh for fucks sakes.

“What's she doing in there? Intel?”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Tyler hisses. “What is wrong with you? Keep your fucking voice down.”

“How long she been in there?”

“I said shut the fuck up. Are you trying to get her caught? Now sit down and keep your mouth shut.”

“She's a feisty one, huh? I can imagine how hard she had to talk you into this.”

“I said sit the fuck down. Now.”

He finally relents, slipping into the chair across from Tyler.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mark? What the hell is going on? How'd you know where I was?”

“Who do you think Nik came to for help? To arrange all the secret meeting stuff back at the hotel? The secure satellite feed? The new SAT phones. The fake Ids. You really think she pulled all that off on her own?”

“Why you? What the hell do you have to do with any of this?”

“Come on now, you honestly didn't know I was FBI.”

Tyler frowns. “You're a Fed? Are you serious right now?”

“I'm surprised Esme didn't tell you. She probably didn't tell you the rest, either. About asking me for help.”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“She was worried about you. Said you'd got mixed up into some mess with the IRA. Asked me to tap your phones and trace your whereabouts. In case something happened to you. I told her she probably didn't need to be so concerned. You're a big boy. You can take care of yourself. But you know how she gets. All worked up and anxious. A real mother hen.”

“Are you always this big of an asshole? Is it a gift or...?”

“I'm actually quite flattered. That she'd even think of me. Guess maybe she's still hanging onto some of the past. Just can't quite seem to let me go.”

“You're about five seconds away from getting my foot up your ass, mate. Now either shut up or fuck off. I don't have time for your shit.”

“Ever the busy man,” he smirks. “Always running off to solve everyone elses problems but never dealing with your own.”

“Mark, I swear to Christ, if you don't shut the fuck up...”

“Bitter pill to swallow, huh? Knowing she still thinks about me.”

“Listen you little shit...” Tyler leans across the table. “...I don't know what you want or why you're here, but either keep your mouth shut or I shut it for you. I don't have the time or the fucking patience for this.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I'm just here to help...mate.”

Tyler's blood boils. But he refuses to take the bait. The games won't work on him, no matter how hard the other man tries.

“Kind if a shitty move on your part, don't you think?” Mark asks. “Getting her mixed up in all this? Considering how she thinks of you as her hero. Her knight in shining armour. The one that came along and helped her get over me. That one that was able to give her the life that she really wanted. A happy marriage, a bunch of kids, nice place to live. That's kind of a bitch thing to do, Rake. Give her all of that and play the role of her hero and then fuck it all up like this. You'd think you'd want to keep her away from all of this. You know, seeing as you are always going on and on about how much you love her and would never hurt her. Not exactly walking the walk, huh?”

“I will fucking kill you, Mark. If you don't keep your goddamn mouth shut, I will bury you. Do you honestly believe the shit that is coming out of your mouth right now? Or do you just like to hear yourself talk? You know nothing about my marriage. About my wife. About our lives together. So just sit there and keep your mouth shut,” he glances down at his phone. It's well past the twenty minute mark. “Fuck,” he mutters, and stands up, taking money out of his wallet and tossing it down on the table.

“Sleeping on the job, huh? Not quite on the ball when it comes to keeping an eye on her, are you.”

“Just...stop...just shut the fuck up and...” he notices the door to the pub open up and Esme finally step out, watching as she exchanges parting pleasantries with the bouncer before hurrying off down the sidewalk. “I gotta go.”

“Are you serious right now?” Mark asks incredulously. “You're going to leave her in there while you chase after another woman?”

“You idiot. That's Esme. She dyed her hair. You absolute fucking idiot. Stay here. Don't follow me.”

“Like hell I'll stay here,” Mark says, and stands up as well. “What are you going to do, Rake? Stop me?”

“Don't fucking tempt me,” Tyler retorts, eyes on Esme until she rounds the corner and disappear. “Let's go. If you're coming, let's go. Now.”

****

They reach the car first, Tyler using the keyless entry to unlock the vehicle, then tossing open the back passenger door.

“Get in,” he orders.

“I don't get to call shotgun?”

“Just get in,” he snarls, and then slams the door shut when the other man finally complies. Pacing by the side of the car until he finally hears the hurried click of heels against the payment. Relief washing through him when she finally comes around the corner, pausing momentarily to lean a hand against a building in order to remove her heels. Now in her bare feet, shoes in her hand.

“That was twenty five minutes,” he informs her.

“It took a little longer than expected,” she admits, as he lays a hand on her hip and kisses her softly. “They were chatty. Not particularly helpful, but chatty. My feet were killing. These things are bullshit. Remind me never to wear heels again.”

He takes the shoes from her, a hand on the back as he escorts her to her side of the car. Pausing before opening her door, instead tossing open the back one and tossing the heels into the back seat with enough force to catch Mark on the side of the head and leave some damage.

“I'm starving,” she announces, as her husband opens her door. “Let's go and get something to eat. We'll have to drive pretty far out of the way so no one recognizes you or sees us together. Do you think they sell tacos somewhere?”

“Just get in,” Tyler says, and gives her one last peck on the lips before she slips into the car. “Let's just the fuck out of here, yeah?”

She nods in agreement, and reaches for her seat belt as he closes her door.

“Hi Esme,” Mark greets her from the backseat, and she nearly jumps clear out of her skin.

“What the hell?!”she shrieks. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“He's here to help,” Tyler says, as he slips behind the wheel and starts the ignition, tires squealing as he peels away from the curb. “You know. Like you asked him to.”

She glares at her ex husband. “You dumb ass motherf-...”

“Like the man just said, you asked.”

“You weren't supposed to show up here!” she hisses. “You were supposed to send someone! This is not what we agreed to!”

“I had some time off coming. I figured why not to the deed myself? I could use a little excitement.”

“You're going to get a little excitement when I come back there and beat your ass!” she threatens. “What is wrong with you? I told you not to tell Tyler. I told you...”

“Uhhh...excuse me...” her husband speaks up. “...Tyler is right here. Tyler can fucking hear you.”

“It's not what you think,” she says. “I did not ask Mark to come here. I asked him for help. But I never told him to come here.”

“Why didn't you just leave it alone? After I told you McMann? I told you all of that in confidence.”

“In her defence,” Mark pipes up. “She was just worried about you.”

“You shut up. I''m not talking to you. I'm talking to my wife. You know, your ex wife.”

“Okay...guys...take it down a notch...” Esme insists. “....there's too much ego in this car right now. Mark, shut up and mind your business, okay? This doesn't involve you.”

“Well it does considering you're the one who asked me for help.”

“Just...shut...up...” she spits out every word. ��Or I'll have Tyler stop this car and get him to toss your ass out in the middle of the road.”

“I can stop right here,” Tyler suggests. “Throw him right out into traffic.”

“You'd like that wouldn't you,” Mark snorts.

“You know what? I actually would. I would love to toss your arrogant ass right in the path of an eighteen wheeler.”

“Simmer down...please...” Esme begs. “Yes. I asked him for help. I told him about McMann. Because I don't trust him and I was worried about you.”

“It was between us. In confidence.”

“I was worried about you, Tyler. You were walking into this blind with nothing but McMann's word to go on. Maybe I overreacted...”

“You think, Esme? You really think?”

“...but I wanted to help you and keep you safe and that was the only way I knew how.”

“You had my phone and my SAT traced? Are you serious?”

“I wanted someone to have your back. To keep an eye on you,” she reasons. “I didn't do it to betray your confidence. I did it because I was worried. That's all. I'm sorry. I didn't meant to upset you, Tyler. I did it because I love you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He sighs heavily, shaking his head.

“I'd be pissed too,” Mark says, and Tyler glares at him through the rear view mirror. “Just saying.”

“You really need to just shut up and stay that way,” Esme tells him. “See that vein throbbing in the side of his neck? That's the vein that throbs when he's about to impale someone with a garden rake. So just...shhhh...”

There's finally blissful silence. Tyler's head pounds ferociously, his stomach growls. “How'd it go?” he asks.

“It was like taking candy from a baby. They just bought it hook, line, and sinker. The bartender is definitely IRA. No doubt about it. I gave him my card. He says he's going to call. And pass my name and number around to other people that can give me info. They honestly think I'm here to write an article about the what's going on between the IRA and the Buckman's. And McCann's wife and kids. It was so easy, Tyler. You would have been so proud of me.”

“I am proud of you,” he says, and she smiles.

“You guys realize I'm still back here, right?” Mark speaks up. “And that we're now about half an hour from where I left my car?”

“For fucks sakes!” Tyler bellows, and makes an erratic U turn in the middle of oncoming traffic.

“You might want to do up your seat belt,” Esme suggests to her ex. “Tyler doesn't know what stop signs and red lights mean.”

It takes half the time to get back into town. The blatant and dangerous traffic violations making for a quick, yet nerve wracking trip. And Tyler pulls up in front of the restaurant he'd ran into Mark at.

“Get out!” he orders. “Just get out! Now!”

Mark puts up little resistance. “Your shoes,” he says, to Esme, holding out the heels.

“You're a real fucking tool,” she declares, as he drops them into his lap.

“We'll be in touch,” Mark says, more to Tyler than her. “I look forward to working with you, Rake.”

Tyler smirks. Then floors the gas.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #chris hemsworth character #sanctuary

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mandoratheevilchaser · 5 years

Note

Ras for the character ask!

Interesting one!

How I feel about this character: As a villain, Ra's is one of my favourites. He's elegant, he's got swag for days and there's no one really quite like him. He's a really interesting foil to Bruce as well (I always get a sense of satisfaction whenever he's classified as Batman's arch-enemy), because he's really his only villain on an international scale, as opposed to all the Gotham villains. As a father to Talia is where my conflicting feelings towards him come into play, because she's one of my all time favourites and he didn't always treat her all that well, particularly under Dixon. Also, their relationship is laced with sexism, but I guess that can be attributed to them being created in the early 70's + Ra's' age.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: He and Sora were really sweet. I think she's the only woman Ra's ever really loved, and as he said himself, he'll grieve her forever. Even though his relationship with Evelyn and Dinah has certain romantic elements, I think he mostly wanted an heir from them. The sexism applies here too; expressing your wish to marry a woman so that she can give you a son is Not It, Chief, and neither is restoring a woman's youth, then bedding her and calling it a marriage ceremony, again in order for you to have a son.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Despite what I said above, Talia, because he's been truly shown to care about her, especially in the early stories by O'Neil and Wolfman.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Even though his name is pronounced "Raysh" in other media, people should recognise that it's incorrect and disrespectful and make an effort to pronounce it the correct way. Also, I'm not sure how unpopular this is, but I don't like Sensei being his father at all. I much prefer his origin in Birth of the Demon. And, despite all the racism and sexism attached to him, Ra's is an infinitely better character than the Joker ✌️

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: He should be brought more into play today. He's never been more relevant. He fits perfectly into the current ecological crisis and should be way more utilised based on that (he can actually have a point every once in a while). I also wish DC would drop the orientalism already. And that applies to the majority of DC's asian characters. It's twenty-fucking-twenty, it's gotten real old (older than Ra's hgsdfdhgy). DC (and on a larger scale the western world) needs a good, hard slap in the face.

#this got way more political than I intended it to be #ask #internal-ethics #sorry for the late reply I've been busy af

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katdvs · 7 years

Photo

Lucas Friar moved back to Texas at 17, now he’s running for Mayor of Rosewood Springs so best friend Zay and little sister Gigi decide he needs a little help from a political consultant. Riley Matthews found her calling, she found a fiancé, but she never expected to find herself here, of all places.

Cross-posted to FF.net | Soundtrack | Past Chapters

Author Note: Seriously thank you so much to everyone who is still reading this, you guys are amazing in ways you will never know. Something comes up in this chapter that I 100% have planned for a while, I was writing the scene when I saw the news tweet about it and was like eek! Oh, I’ve got a reader survey going and it would be amazing if you could take the time to fill it out. Everything is 100% anonymous, I’m just a little curious about a few things so I thought why not ask. So if you fill that out, thank you!

-loss of my innocence-

“Come on guys get this room cleaned up.” Riley looked at the crew that had been working on the renovations of the lodge.

“Yes Boss, we should have the room cleaned up in twenty minutes or so. We’re just finishing to install the television, and we’ll get this place cleared up.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, “We start painting tomorrow.”

“We’ll be cleaned up and ready for you to paint.” The foreman told her.

She rubbed her forehead, “Thank you Alec, I know I gave you guys a short deadline but you’ve been great so far.”

“Well we want the rest of the jobs, we know if we mess up you’ll replace us.” Alec shot her a smile before he finished with the television, turning it on, “Should be good to go.”

“Thanks” Riley took the remote control from him and turned the set on, pulling up her favorite cable news channel.

“Your patrons will want to watch sports.” Her husband’s smooth voice danced in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m just making sure the TV works.” She leaned into him, “You this anxious to go to the football game tonight?”

“Riley, this is Texas, it’s Friday night, we do football.” He smirked, “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“I have,” she smiled as she put the remote down behind the bar, “How’s this look so far?’

“Amazing, and it’ll look even better once it’s painted, and you have actual guests.”

“We’re on schedule for a Valentine’s Day opening.” She ran her hands through her hair as she looked at her husband, “You ready for tonight? Things are really picking up; the election is barely a month away.”

“I sure am, the trunk is full of buttons and stuff. I also have a basket of stuff for dinner, I got your hoodie in the car.”

Riley paused for a moment as she looked around, “I gotta get my purse from the office. Give me a minute.”

“No problem.” Lucas turned his focus to the news as Riley left.

“And today in New York, son of business mogul Stuart Minkus, Farkle Minkus announced his candidacy for the recently vacant seat in the Senate.”

“Is that Farkle?” Riley’s voice was cloaked in bitterness.

Lucas turned to his wife, her eyes wide with a fire he’d never seen before, “Looks like it.”

“That fucking asshole!” She threw her purse down on the ground, “He and his wife, force me out of the business I built, the business I worked my ass off at, the business where I subjected myself to months, years really away from my family and friends, and then he runs for office?”

Lucas put his hands on her shoulders, “Hey, honey, you have every right to be upset.”

“I don’t understand why they forced me out, this isn’t what they told me.” She blinked back the tears in her eyes.

Lucas pulled her towards him, he could feel her tears already seeping into his t-shirt, “Farkle hasn’t returned any of my calls, and Zay said he hasn’t spoken to either of them since right before you went to New York.”

Riley pulled back, wiping her eyes, looking up to see Farkle on the screen giving a speech, and then she saw the chyron at the bottom, IRSM Consulting dissolved in August. Riley Lawrence left the company to move Texas and start a new project outside of politics.

“Why are they even mentioning you?” Lucas looked back at the screen.

“I don’t know none of this makes sense.” She picked up her purse and stared digging through her purse for her phone.

“Today the FDA announced a recall for the birth-control ComHil.”

Riley froze, as she looked up at the TV again. Her mind racing as she held her phone in her hand.

“Ri, you okay honey?”

“Yeah, um, found my phone. I’m going to call Maya in the car, see what she knows.”

Lucas cupped her face giving her a smile, “Hey, you know what as much as it hurts, as much as it stings that Farkle and Smackle did you dirty like this, but they freed you as well, think about it. You decided, you choose to come here, to be with me, to build a life with me.”

Riley gazed into his green eyes for a moment, “That is true.”

“So, you call Maya, see what she knows and I will get us to the football field.”

“You are the best. How did I get so lucky to find you?”

“The subway jolted and I pulled you into my lap.” He smirked before reaching around the bar for the remote and turning off the TV.

She took a deep breath, trying to relax herself even though she had far too many thoughts running through her head. She had to find out what was going on with Farkle and Smackle, why they had lied to her.

Lucas guided her out of the lodge and to his SUV, he knew she was upset, he couldn’t blame her for being so. He didn’t understand why Smackle and Farkle did what they had, and he couldn’t fathom why. The thing that really got him was that they lied to her, even what she told him when she finally had, didn’t feel right.

He took a deep breath before opening the driver’s side door, he could already hear her talking to Maya.

“What is going on with Farkle, what the hell are he and Smackle up to?”

“I don’t know Riles, they won’t talk to us and I’ve been trying. I even went to the offices, which FYI are all closed up. It’s like creepy abandoned.” Maya’s voice came over the speaker phone almost causing Lucas to jump as he started the engine. “Riles, where are you? Please don’t be driving right now.”

“I’m in the car, but Lucas is driving.”

“Hi Maya.” He glanced to Riley, sure her best friend as going to have a snarky comment.

“Whoa he speaks, I was starting to wonder.” Maya teased. “So, what are you to up to, a hayride or something like that?”

“Football game, it’s Friday night. What are you doing?”

“Movie night, we’re watching Trolls—again, Fallon and Drew love it. One day Riley you’re going to get married and have kids, and it’s not football games or square dancing or whatever it is you all do down there, it’s sitting at home watching something off Netflix for the fifteenth time that week.”

Lucas smirked, he couldn’t help but enjoy the knowledge that Maya didn’t know he and Riley were already married, “I don’t know Maya, that kind of sounds like our Saturday nights, we watched Trolls just last week.”

“Ugh, you would Ranger Rick.”

“Blast from the past.” Lucas chuckled, as he turned into the entrance for the high school. It was still early and he found a good spot quickly.

“Maya, will you please just ask Farkle what his damage is if he does talk to you. They haven’t taken my calls, or answered my emails.”

“I’ll do what I can. But they’re avoiding all of us.”

Riley sighed as she watched Lucas get out of the truck, “I don’t like the way they did this. What gets me is, if they had really just talked to me, we could’ve worked something out.”

“But would you have the settlement you got?”

“The money doesn’t matter to me, okay, yeah its allowed me to do a few things that I might not have been able to otherwise, but it just feels dirty, it did then, but even more so now.” She heard the trunk open, she glanced back to her husband, “I gotta go and play devoted fiancé.”

“Get married already, Lucas ask her to marry you.”

Riley chuckled, “Good night Maya.” She hung up before her friend could continue.

Lucas laughed as he unloaded stuff from the trunk, “She’s gonna kill us.”

Riley shrugged as she got out of the car, “I like what we have, it works for us.”

“It sure does.” He gave her a quick kiss as he pulled out the picnic cooler, “Ready?”

“Ready.” She took his hand, and picked up the bag of campaign swag before they moved to the high school.

Gigi sat in the doctor’s office, chewing her thumbnail as she waited for the doctor to return. She felt like each minute that went by took an hour.

A nurse came in to check on her, offering a supportive smile, “Dr. McGuire will be with you in just a few minutes, it’s a little crazy today.”

“Thanks” Gigi wished she had brought a magazine with her, this couldn’t take too long, but the nerves were building. She tried to think, if she was, what were the possibilities.

She couldn’t remember if she and Deacon had used condoms early on, the only time she knew she’d used them in the last few months was the night with Zay.

At least if she was she didn’t have to worry about who the father was.

She rubbed her hands over her face, her heart racing, how had things gotten to this point?

“Okay Gigi,” The doctor popped her red-haired head into the room, “you ready?”

“I sure am Aunt Rachel.” She sighed watched the older woman come into the room.

Rachel sat down on the stool and looked over the chart, “Good news, you’re not pregnant.”

“Oh, thank God.” Gigi breathed, “I mean I didn’t think I was, but with the recall of my birth control, I figured I should check.”

“Good idea, I’m guessing you and the fiancé have been active.”

“I haven’t told Mom yet Aunt Rachel, please don’t tell her. I’m waiting for when she and Dad come into town for the holidays.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t say a word to my sister.” She looked back down at the chart making a note, “So I’m going to try you out on a different prescription, but I do suggest either wait a week, or use a condom until then.”

“Okay, I can handle that.” Gigi slipped off the table and started getting dressed again.

“How’s Lucas, I know I haven’t been around much.”

“Aunt Rachel, we know you’re busy, besides you were off helping women who needed it. You’re an inspiration.”

Rachel rolled her eyes at her niece, “You don’t have to suck up, I won’t tell your Mom.”

“No, I mean it.” Gigi shrugged, “And Lucas is good, he’s very happy with Riley and campaigning, and planning his wedding for March.”

Rachel looked up from writing out the prescription, “Wait, hold up, Lucas is engaged?”

“Oh right, you just got back like a week ago.” Gigi cringed, “Lucas is engaged to Riley Matthews.”

“Wait, the girl from New York?”

“Yeah, her, they’re beyond happy.”

“How did that happen, I thought she was working in politics thanks to her Uncle Eric.”

Gigi stared at her Aunt, “How do you know that, Lucas didn’t.”

“Eric must’ve mentioned it.” Rachel shrugged.

“Wait, you know her Uncle?”

“Yeah” Rachel looked at her niece, “We were college roommates. So, she and Lucas are engaged huh?”

“Yeah something like that.” Gigi grabbed her purse, “I gotta go fill this prescription, meet them and Deacon at the football game, are you coming by tonight?”

“Actually,” Rachel gave her niece a smile, “I think I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, have a good night Aunt Rachel.”

“I’ll be right back.” Lucas gave Riley a kiss on the cheek just as Gigi was sitting down next to her.

“You guys really are sappy.” Gigi groaned.

Riley ignored her, “Where are you going?”

“I left the hoodies in the car and the air is starting to chill, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay, we’ll be here.” Riley watched him for a moment before turning to Gigi, “Where did you disappear to?”

“Doctor, I had to get a new prescription for birth control.”

Riley turned to her concerned, “Why, what was wrong with what you were using, wait you were using something right Gigi?”

“Yes, but the stuff I was on got recalled, some mess up in the manufacturing or something. But Aunt Rachel got me on something new.”

“Wow my Doctor is named Rachel as well,” Riley looked out to the field, “My Uncle is like best friends with her, so I have an appointment next week just for a checkup and stuff.”

“Rachel McGuire?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s our Aunt.” Gigi shrugged, “Small world, huh?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Okay, thank God I had these or Mrs. Miller was going to talk my ear off.” Lucas sat next to his wife and handed her the hoodie he’d been carrying.

“Oh thanks.” Riley took it, and pulled it on realizing immediately it was brand new, not the Abigail Adams High one she’d been wearing since she got to town. She looked down and saw Rosewood Springs printed on front, “Lucas what is this?”

“I know it’s not the hoodie, but I thought since you live here now, and we’re at a Rosewood Springs game, it might be better if you wore something from here.” He waited, hoping he hadn’t done the wrong thing.

Riley took a deep breath, “I love it Lucas, it just doesn’t smell like you.”

He put his arm around her, “Yeah well, it’ll smell like you.”

Riley breathed in his scent, “This will just have to do.”

Gigi made a gagging sound, “You guys are awful.”

Lucas looked up to his sister, “Yeah cause you and Deacon aren’t full on with the public displays of affection.”

Gigi blushed, “We are nowhere near as bad as you two.”

Deacon slipped in the seat next to Gigi, “What’s the score?”

She turned to her fiancé, “It hasn’t started yet, you got here before kickoff.”

“Awesome.” He looked to his boss and his fiancé, “Hello guys, hey could I got a new Vote for Lucas button? Mine got destroyed on a house call this morning.”

Lucas looked at the younger man, “Of course, what happened?”

“Mitzy the goat tried to eat it.” Deacon looked down, “I had it pinned to the shoulder strap of my bag. I set the bag down while I was examining Trixy and when I looked over Mitzy had the pin her mouth.”

Lucas’ mouth hung open, “I have no words, but you’ll have more stories like that as the years go on.”

“I’ll give you a bag of pins to keep in case you have another run-in with goats.” Riley shook her head as the PA system blared with an announcement.

The crowd around them came alive as the band began to play cheerleaders began to cheer.

Riley was still getting used to this part of her new life. She loved watching the enthusiasm of the crowd, it could be intoxicating. In high school, she hadn’t gone to many sporting events after Lucas left. She’d thrown herself into her work at the bakery, saving every penny she could, studying.

Never in a million years had she expected to be here. As she felt Lucas put his arm around her, pulling her close to him she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else for the rest of her life.

Gigi breathed a sigh of relief as she parked her car, thinking about her appointment earlier as she got out to run into the house and grab a few things before going over to Deacon’s.

It was easier each day, the more time she spent at his place, the less chance she had of running into Zay, though from the sounds of it he was spending more and more time at the apartment above the bar then here.

The door flew open just before Gigi could put her key in to unlock it, as her eyes adjusted to the sudden bright light flooding from inside she gulped.

She stepped inside after glancing to see if Riley and Lucas were home, but she didn’t see either of their cars.

“Georgianna Darcy Friar, where on earth have you been?” The voice was accusing, harsh, but also loving as well.

She turned to the door of Lucas’ office and saw her mother Bonnie Friar, with her strawberry blonde hair in a classic bob cut, a nice pantsuit for her flight so she looked put together but still comfortable.

“Mom, it’s Friday night I was at the football game.” She moved to give her mother a hug, wondering why no one told her she was coming, “Lucas didn’t mention you were coming.”

Bonnie waved her hand, “He doesn’t know.” She moved around the house, running her hands over the furniture expecting to leave trails in the dust only to discover she didn’t, “I see your housekeeping skills have improved.”

“Oh that wouldn’t be me keeping house.” Gigi slipped her left hand into the pocket of her jacket, “So where’s Dad?”

“Upstairs taking a shower, we had a long flight from London.” Bonnie paused at a picture on the mantle, “What is this doing out, I didn’t know Lucas still had pictures of her.”

Gigi looked at the picture of Lucas and Riley, it was from high school, a dance, they were posed together, gazing into each other’s eyes. “They look so in love in that picture.”

“High school romance, they never would’ve made it to graduation if we’d stayed in New York.” Bonnie put the picture down, “Riley was always a bit spacy. You know has your brother given Dixie a chance.”

“No, Lucas is never giving Dixie a chance.” Gigi rolled her eyes when her mother turned away, “Dixie is a psycho-bitch.”

“She is a very nice young lady, from a very well-respected family here in town, they own the property right next to ours.”

Gigi paused for a moment, “They used to, it has new owners, who are working to revitalize the property, and create a better resort.”

“Pish-posh Gigi, the Carmichael’s especially Dixie did quite well with it.”

“I would love to stick around and see how this all plays out, but I’m going to go get some stuff before I leave.” Gigi started going towards the stairs.

“Gigi, where do you think you’re going? It’s late where could a respectable girl like yourself be going this late at night?”

Gigi straightened up, “Over to Deacon Hughes house where I’m going to crawl into bed with him, probably have sex, and spend the night.”

Bonnie reached for her daughter, “Like hell you are! Is this what happens when we leave you in your brother’s care, you become the town slut?”

“Sorry Mom, I don’t think spending the night with my fiancé is going to make me the town slut.” Gigi held her left hand up, “So yeah being in Lucas’ care has left me with finding the man I’m going to marry.”

Bonnie’s face shadowed over, “You’re engaged and didn’t tell me Gigi, but why?”

“I knew you wouldn’t approve, besides it’s not like you care. You call but mostly talk to me for like two minutes before asking to talk to Lucas again.” Gigi started up the stairs, ignoring her mother following her.

“Gigi, talk to me.” Bonnie pleaded as she watched her daughter stuff clothes into her bag and grab a few things, it was then that she realized how empty the room had become, her daughter was slowly moving in with this man.

“I have to go Mom, but hey I’m sure you’ll have plenty to talk to Lucas about.” Gigi pushed past her as she moved down the stairs, going straight out the front door just as Riley and Lucas were coming p the steps, “Good luck.”

“With what?” Lucas called out before turning around and seeing his mother in the doorway. “Mom?”

Bonnie stopped going after Gigi when she saw her son, wondering how he could have the audacity to bring a woman home. But as they came up the last step she realized who was with him.

She looked to her son, “I cannot believe you have the stupidity to have this girl here. What are you doing Lucas, you will never become the Mayor if you have this New York trash on your arm. I thought you were smarter than that Lucas, I thought you would finally wise up and realize that it’s time to settle down with a good southern girl. You what decided to open old wounds and bring back this simple little waif?”

Riley was stunned, she’d always thought Mrs. Friar liked her.

Lucas couldn’t believe what his mother was saying, he could only imagine what she’d said to Gigi.

“What do you have to say for yourself Lucas?” Bonnie kept her eyes on her son, she had expected him to say something back to her.

“I want to say it’s good to see you Mom, I do wish you had called before coming. But how dare you speak to Riley like that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Get this trash out of my house Lucas.” Bonnie went to the door.

Lucas blinked, “Actually Mom, this is my house. Riley lives here with me. If you have a problem with her, get the fuck over it, or find someplace else to stay.”

#Thunder Chasing The Wind #Riley Matthews #Lucas Friar #Rucas #Rucas Fanfic #Girl Meets World #GMW Fanfic #Gigi Friar

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930club · 7 years

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VOTD: Kesha - “Praying” - Good for Her, Good for Us, Good for Music

On July 6, Kesha released her first solo original song since her 2012 album, Warrior. The new song, “Praying,” is a powerful, emotional catharsis piece in response to years of alleged psychological and physical abuse from her Kemosabe Records producer and mentor, Dr. Luke.

Kesha pressed charges against Dr. Luke in 2014 for a swath of alleged exploitations. In a nearly two-year court battle against him, and eventually Sony, she asked to be released from her record contract, which was initially signed with Kasz Money and then licensed to Sony subsidiaries RCA/Jive and Kemosabe Records, professionally binding her to Dr. Luke, who she says was, in addition to everything else, stifling her creativity with overly controlling artistic counsel. Sony claimed that it was “legally unable to terminate a contract to which it was not a party,” so she did not release any music the entire time of the proceedings. Ultimately, the court dismissed her lawsuit.

This is her first solo release without the direct involvement of Dr. Luke, but it was still released on Kemosabe Records (of which Dr. Luke is no longer CEO). After going through some seemingly profound traumatic mental, physical, and legal turmoil, Kesha is resurrecting herself—resurfacing from that dark time into a new, triumphant, more adult young woman and artist.

In that sense, this song is a triumph—for her, for us, and for music. She seems to finally be free from her contractual, artistic, and mental captivity, and moving past what she describes as “hands down the hardest time of [her] entire life.” She is empowering herself in the face of what was, at the very least, an oppressive artistic environment and a painful, multi-year, unsuccessful legal battle. She is taking the creative reins of her own artistic career and moving above and beyond her alleged abuse and exploitation to something seemingly bigger, brighter, clearer, and more honest. She is putting art, emotional honesty, and spiritual healing first, and it makes this song powerful. Lines like “the best is yet to come,” “when I’m finished they won’t even know your name,” and the powerfully succinct “I’m proud of who I am” have me fist bumping in teary-eyed, emboldened excitement whenever I hear them. The chorus refrain, “I hope you’re somewhere praying, praying, I hope your soul is changing, changing, I hope you find your peace falling on your knees, praying,” speaks a truth of acceptance and clarity in the face of pain—forgiveness in the face of a bitter injustice. And that high F at the end has me squirming in empathetic awe every time, even though I know it’s coming.

And thank goodness for all that. I was scared when I saw her July 5 video announcement on Twitter regarding her upcoming release. It seemed… sexual in presentation, which struck me as patently dissonant with the nature of the announcement and the subject matter of the song. To put it bluntly, I was afraid she was going to commoditize her own alleged abuse, which would have been a defeat for her, for us, and for music. My opinion of Kesha’s music pre-2015 was dominated by frustration—less with her and more with the world as well as with my millennial peers for consuming it and turning it into anthems of apathy, addiction, vacuous connection, and, once the drug-induced denial fades, loneliness. Her older music epitomizes some of the more upsetting aspects of modern popular music and the sentiments it sells to my generation. Most of her top songs (“Tik Tok,” “Die Young,” “We R Who We R,” “Take It Off,” “Blow,” “C’Mon,” “Supernatural,” “Crazy Kids”) and even “Your Love is My Drug,” which I considered excluding from this list for the potential interpretation of her lyrics as rooted in a genuine excitement about emotional intimacy, convey the exact same regurgitated themes of a drug-induced, cynical, sexual apathy and recklessness, and perhaps above all else, of addiction—to drugs, to sex, to status, to the self, and to its destruction. “Your Love is My Drug” may actually champion themes of addiction most directly with lines like, “The rush is worth the price I pay, I get so high when you're with me, But crash and crave you when you leave,” and nonchalantly promotes self-obsessed status preoccupations with lines like, “My steeze [status/swag] is gonna be affected if I keep it up like a love sick crackhead,” which shamelessly equates emotional detachedness with coolness. After one thorough listen to the song, it’s clear that the love she speaks of is some combination of sexual excitement and infatuated dependence.

Her music is sold, I think, as some kind of rebellion against… something… maybe responsibility for mental health… maybe the patriarchy and similarly sexualized and emotionally detached lyrics from her male counterparts… but it of course conforms with ham-fisted vulgarity to the performed sexual expectations of that same patriarchy. So, who knows? To me as a high schooler, it was boring, stupid, and so sad that that’s what sells—status-driven hedonism, sex and apathy, and apathetic sex. So, yeah, to a high school me, Kesha’s music was cringe-worthy and depressing. Then, a friend sent me her cover of Bob Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright,” which is also sad, but for all the right reasons. It made me cry and introduced me to her struggles with Dr. Luke. I began wondering how much control she previously had over the aesthetic she was portraying and if she’d have preferred something different. According to her MTV show, My Crazy Beautiful Life, she had miniscule creative control over Warrior. Allegedly, most of the 70-something songs she wrote for that album, including her favorite "Machine Gun Love," were excluded against her wishes.

All of which is to say: maybe what we’re seeing now is the real Kesha—or, rather, something real from a Kesha that’s been trapped in certain performance paradigms for her entire early career. The beginning of the video for “Praying” reignited the fears I initially had as she talked in a theatrically despondent voice about her desire to just give up, asking God, “Why?” When the song came in, though, my concern was immediately quelled and I saw the beginning monologue of despair and surrender as the other option… the regretful path of pain she could have taken, but that she is superseding—and I appreciated it for what it was. What I hear in the new song feels honest—a strong base to the acidity of the social media-themed songs she released when I was a kid. As she indicates in rainbow letters at the end the music video for “Praying,” this is The Beginning. I hope she’s telling the truth because that would be a rare good in popular music—and for everyone.

-Ryan Savage

#VOTD #Music Video #Kesha #Praying #Ryan Savage

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jonliveson · 7 years

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The Black White Kid

“For the first time somebody called me a Nigger.I was constantly being stopped and harassed by police.I always wanted to say,”but my mom is white,”I never did because I knew that wouldn’t matter.”

My mom is white.You could probably mistake her for Martha Stewart.Yeah she’s that white! (LOL)My dad is black.Like real black.Like fresh off the boat african black.I can say that because,well my mom is unapologetically white and my dad is unapologetically black!(As for me;well I’m unapologetically confused!)What does that look like for a light skin boy that grew up around black people but played soccer with white people and had a family full of white people?A boy that went to school and grew up in the “chocolate city” but wasn’t really chocolate?It meant utter confusion and chaos.On one hand I’m the light skinned black boy thats around the way that has to constantly prove he’s black enough.On the other hand I’m the black kid that doesn’t really fit in with the white kids but has to adapt to their culture to prove I’m white enough.You see when your light skinned you’re never really black enough to the blacks but you’re still that black kid when you’re around your white peers.When I was younger I didn’t really understand why there was such a difference between white and black.As I got older I started to realize the difference in more ways than one.

THE YOUNGER YEARS

My mom is white.She is one of the most loving and caring people I’ve ever met but that doesn’t change the color of her skin.I used to HATE when she picked me up from school.Not because I didn’t love her but because of the consequences of my peers seeing that she was a white woman.”HaHa!You a white boy,your mom a cracker,you a pretty boy!”Thats what my peers used to say about me.I got in a lot of fights!When you’re young and you see someone different its very easy to call it like you see it.To them what they were saying was true and who am I to tell them any different so I kinda had to just accept it.My mom used to take me on trips to see my white relatives in the country.They were a unique bunch..We ran around in the woods,I watched them hunt and shoot at deer, we built things and caught bugs and other creatures in random creeks they found.We never did stuff like that where I was from.I was a city boy.It was all about basketball,football,money and clothes.I was always around black people.My mom worked with a lot of black kids so when I went to her job at the rec centers it was the same story.I loved being my self and being black when I was in those settings but what about when I was around white people?It wasn’t the same anymore.I started to feel different.I was on the outside looking in.I sometimes wished that I wasn’t half white but it was my reality.So I tried to tap into that inner white boy to relate to those white peers.To be honest it was never really there.I changed my talk, my walk and everything else not to be viewed as some ghetto black kid.I failed.PG county was in my blood our swag was just always different.Long story short I always felt like my moms kid at home but outside the house was a different story..I still loved her tremendously and was the true definition of a mamas boy.

My dad is African.He is a strong man.A man that came here from Ghana with something that turned to nothing and made a living off of what he knew which was soccer.He was a pro player forever.Playing for the Ghana national team and professional on the club level in Ghana as well as the states.But enough about him.I used to HATE when he picked me up from school!Not because I didn’t love him but because of the consequences of my peers seeing that he was African.”HaHa,You African booty scratcher,your dad stinks ,y'all eat monkeys!”You know stuff like that.That’s what my peers used to say about me.I got in so many fights!You see it was cool to be black but it was never cool to be African!It was definitely never cool to play soccer either, like no way!Maybe thats why I got so good at other sports like football and basketball.I had no choice if I wanted to stay relevant.So the constant struggle is there of being the same but completely different at the same time!I never embraced being from Ghana.As I got older I tried to separate my self as far as possible from my african soccer playing roots.But the fact remained the same If my parents weren’t in the picture I was still viewed and treated as a black boy.

I GOT OLDER

You mean to tell me that white people captured Africans and used them as slaves!?Why am I starting to get treated more and more like a minority?For the first time somebody called me a Nigger!(Which is by far the most hurt and angry I’ve ever been in my life!)I was constantly being stopped and harassed by police.I always wanted to say,”but my mom is white,”I never did because I knew that wouldn’t matter.My identity and place in society began to become more and more clear.Those days in the country were long gone.I was not white!I was black,even if I wasn’t black enough!It’s something that only a “mut”(Yeah I’ve been called that before) could understand! I grew dread locks.I started to resent the white in me and the white side of my family.As far as I was concerned they just had to put up with me because they had no choice.All those trips to see them started to become rare occasions.I mean can you blame me?I was mad!I didn’t understand how a race of people did so many bad things to another race of people because of the color of their skin.So I embraced my blackness (not my african side though) and the culture of being black in the DC area.Its such an amazing thing.They embraced me as well.I was rapping in a gogo band and was popular amongst my people.You couldn’t tell me anything.I was lit in the city.My dad couldn’t understand the culture because he was african.My mom couldn’t really relate because she was white.I couldn’t talk to them because I was BLACK!Now are you seeing where I’m going?So my days were spent in the neighborhood around my black friends because we were all the same.We did everything together and stuck to the code.If one fought we all fought and if one was in trouble we all were in trouble.It was a brotherhood.I no longer cared about the opinion of my white mother and my african father.I was being a rebel and trying to find my voice.I found it in the streets!Do I regret some of my decisions?Absolutley!I know that God was with me through it all and it grew me to where I am now!

NOW

I identify as a proud black Ghanaian man.An African American man.A duel citizen of both Ghana and America.Whether africans view me as such it doesn’t matter.It is my reality.I have never had the perks of being my mothers child.The truth is I’ve never been able to appreciate the white in me because I’ve always been seen as a black person. I understand that my white side will always be there.I don’t hate white people.Im half white and I love my white family.I love everybody!I fight for social justice and I despise racism.I’m tired of seeing cops kill unarmed black people.Im tired of feeling like I don’t matter or have a voice in this country that says voting matters.I still vote.My hair is black.I talk black.I walk black.I eat black food.Not to mention I love being from Ghana.I guess with maturity comes contentment.I know who I am now and don’t need anyone’s approval.Black is beautiful.Black is smart.Black is love.So heres to being black but not really black enough.Thanks for reading this randomness!

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jenniferfaye34 · 5 years

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Launch Party ~ "filled with heart, laughter, and so much more" The #Prince and the #Wedding Planner (The Bartolini Legacy) by Jennifer Faye... #Giveaway #books #NewRelease #readers #amreading

Welcome! I'm so glad you stopped by.

THE PRINCE AND THE WEDDING PLANNER has just released!!!

When different worlds collide… …sparks fly! With her family name on the line, wedding planner Bianca Bartolini needs this royal wedding to go perfectly—she can’t afford distractions. Too bad the bride’s dashing brother has other plans! Duty-bound Crown Prince Leo has mere weeks to announce his own engagement, but none of the candidates measure up to Bianca. They’re the most unlikely match, but might that just make them perfect for one another?

Here’s what readers are saying about HER CHRISTMAS PREGNANCY SURPRISE:

“This book is filled with heart, laughter, and so much more. Looking forward to the next books in this series in The Bartolini Legacy.” Goodreads

5 Stars “The story was fast paced and had me turning the pages, devouring every word. I highly recommend this book, and I can't wait for the next one!” Bookbub

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Excerpt: CHAPTER ONE

Six weeks later, Bartolini Villa

He needed this excursion.

He wished it could last longer—much longer.

Crown Prince Leopold stood in the lush garden of an Italian villa. He was surrounded by a group of lavishly dressed people. They all wanted a word with him. Why did he think coming to Tuscany would be any different than attending a social occasion in his homeland?

But in that moment, everyone’s attention gravitated from him to a woman who’d joined their group. Her bold makeup and flamboyant hot pink outfit matched her personality. He was grateful the woman enjoyed being the center of attention. All he wanted to be was just another person in the crowd. What was it about people always wanting what they didn’t have?

Just as his sister, the Princess of Patazonia, wanted a wedding that reflected her personality instead of a traditional royal wedding. But the queen insisted that tradition must rule above all else. Just as his father had said to him, right before he died:

Traditions are the bedrock of this kingdom.

Leo gave himself a mental shake. Now wasn’t the time to get caught in the past—in the regrets—in the what-ifs.

Right now, he had his hands full with his feuding mother and sister. The battles between the two headstrong women was a daily occurrence. So when he was invited to this wedding of a childhood friend, he’d ordered up the family jet. Since he was of no help back at the palace, he figured he might as well wish his friend the very best.

Now For The Party Entertainment...

THREE random winners will be chosen:

Winner #1: Grand Prize = Gift basket includes autographed copy of THE PRINCE & THE WEDDING PLANNER, $25 Amazon Gift Card, Kate Spade mug, Lindt Chocolates, and so much more…

Winner #2: Autographed copy of THE PRINCE & THE WEDDING PLANNER plus swag

Winner #3: digital copy of THE PRINCE & THE WEDDING PLANNER

Party Game ~ Cover Wars

And since the graphics won't let me add text, here are the cover titles (left to right):

The Prince and the Wedding Planner

Claiming The Drakos Heir

Her Christmas Pregnancy Surprise

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#The Prince and the Wedding Planner #The Bartolini Legacy #royal romance #prince #wedding planner #Harlequin #Jennifer Faye #Launch Party #cover war #Hearts & Scribbles

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forwardtillthefinish · 7 years

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Southern Comfort: Rock and Roll Savannah Half Marathon and 5k

A week ago I was in Savannah gearing up for what I thought was going to be a terrible race. Predicted finish temperature in the 80′s, a sinus infection that swiftly came on a day before and driving 7 hours in a car was the recipece for disaster. However, it was better than I could have asked for. A chill go with the flow group of ladies, pharmacy grade sinus meds and a fun race series put me on the track to a fun weekend!

We got to the expo mid day Friday. It was not huge but plenty of samples, giveaways and swag to keep it interesting. We didnt stay long as we had been on the road but we did stay long enough to get talked into signing up for the 5k on Sunday to complete the “Remix Challenge”. I also got to meet someone that I had only met on the internet! She was running her first full marathon and it was so cool to watch her progress and finally meet her in person!

After we got settled in the hotel, we got recommendations for dinner. Sweet Potatoes. Some of the best southern, soul food I’ve had in a long time. Not too greasy and well seasoned. Portion was perfect, not too much and not too little, which left room for dessert. There is nothing like a good meal the night before a race.

Fast forward to race morning, we got downtown early enough to park before the roads closed. While 6:00 arrival time seemed early for a 7:20 start, it really was not. After multiple porta pottie trips, the announcer was kicking it up and the race was on. On the way to my corral, I saw fellow Richmond runners, wished them well and headed to the end of the corrals.

Just as the sun was peaking over the horizon, we hit mile one and headed into an older neighborhood. Familes came out to wave and say ‘Good Morning’ as runners passed through the quiet neighborhood. We stayed in that area until mile 4 where it felt like we were headed back towards downtown Savannah. After taking the first miles at an easy pace, I found myself finally warming up and feeling the need to kick it. It was probably the drugs. Totally the drugs. I didn’t listen to them because I knew I would pay for it later. While my wheels were turning and I passed another band going into mile 5, a big guy with a unsteady gait and a razzpy voice asked me how I was doing, I chatted him up for a while. Cancer survivor who needs a knee replacement but refuses to go back to the hospital, quite frankly- you cant blame him. He was seven years in recover and proclaimed this was going to be his last race because his knees were bone on bone. We continued to see each other for the next couple miles.

The temperature was still in the 60′s, the shade of the Savannah trees and a sweet breeze kept the temperatures down through mile 9 and 10. As we moved through the historic downtown area we got to see- SCAD, the Forrest Gump bench, the house from “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil”, the founder of the Girl Scouts’ home and I am sure plenty important things we did not realized we would pass. At this point, I picked up the pace and put in a little more effort to see what I could do. I popped my salt tab and half my bag of Sport Beans just in time for the next water stop as we moved away from downtown and into a neighborhood.

The temperature began to climb and the shade from the trees only did so much. However, months of practicing positive thinking paid off. I settled in, embraced being uncomfortable and pushed to the finish. Due to being a slower runner, I often get stuck behind walkers or walk/runners that abruptly stop. I knew if I wanted to keep on keeping on, I need to quit weaving and wasting energy.

As I chugged along to mile 12, a woman runs up to me and goes “you have inspired me the whole way, fight like a butterfly-sting like a bee”! I chuckled, internalized that happy comment and charged on to the subtle, but present incline to the finish. As I approached the finish, I had plenty of gas in the tank to kick it to the finish and kick it I did.

3:35:01- While it isnt a PR, I still had gas in the tank for 3-4 more miles, I had a sinus infection and it was roasty towards the end. I gave it about 75% because I knew I had Richmond the following weekend and I plan to push that as best I can.

I found my fellow half marathoner and we watched Fitz and the Tantrums tear up the stage. As they were finishing up their set, we got word our Marathoner was done and we retrieved her and her stuff and went on to enjoy a shower, some rest and dinner at Lady and Sons.

The next day, we did the 5k that started at 1pm. Due to daylight savings time, it felt like 2pm. It was hot, it was short and it finished in the Savannah Bananas’ baseball stadium. We finished and hit the road back to Richmond.

#halfmarathon #remix challenge #rockandroll #plussizedrunners #fitz and the tantrums #rnrsavannah #savannahga

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blackstarlinebrewing-blog · 7 years

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They told us we wouldn’t win...

They told us we wouldn’t win…

Last night and all morning, Ekua and I have been thinking about our experience at #bbsession, Brew Bound’s Startup Brewery Challenge. There’s so much to share and probably many pieces we’ll write about our experience. At the end of the day, we knew we weren’t quite ready to be on the stage. We’re not going to be in bottles or cans anytime soon, so we don’t have marketing that we could display on the stage. We can’t legally sell quite yet, because we don’t have the cash/financing, to get that stuff in place; so we’re in limbo. We can’t get a damn financing or know investors who will take a chance on us. The local CDFI is even like, “nah, we’re gonna have to pass homies.” Ok, that’s not a direct quote, clearly. Then, it’s like there will maybe, kinda be funding for less than what we need and we’re just gonna have to figure it out. No, these aren’t excuses, just the reality.

Going in to the competition, we didn’t have any more beer. Quite frankly, we stopped brewing because we couldn’t afford it. We had to use a store credit we had from past purchases to buy some ingredients. Our flagships, Stokely Stout and Dat Dere, couldn’t make it because we didn’t have the cash to produce. We, as always, transparently let folks know the realities and started to raise funds, but they didn’t come quite quickly enough. Those closest to us were hesitant to support because they felt strongly we would not win. So, we did what we know how to do when we’re up against a wall, undercapitalized, poor, and bootstrapping… we made it work. We turned three batches of beer in 9 days.

As far as we know, there’s never been Black women on the stage. There’s never been queer POC on the stage. We knew, no real start-up had ever won the startup brewery challenge at #bbsession. Most of the winners were fully capitalized, had tap rooms, were in distribution, and at a stage we’ve been trying to grow too. It was a risk.

The folks at the local CDFI talk about how we would make it being undercapitalized… well, as Black folks on this land, we always do. Manning Marable said it was Capitalism that underdeveloped Black America. Right… Undercapitalizing, not funding, holding the purse strings tightly, squashing the economic liberation of a people; is simply called genocide. It is by design that the institutions and systems have “certain rules and limitations” with regards to who has access to capital. Most simply, it is called racism. We know it is patriarchy, white supremacy, and the intersections of all the other interlocking supremacy systems.

Let me be clear: We are so grateful for the funds that were received! We would not have been able to be on the stage had it not been for the widespread community support, #grassrootsreparations, and love offerings. Thank you, thank you, thank you. We’re sorry we only got the silver but know, it was our full intention to come home with the Gold.

No, I know that had we received the full $2000 in advance of our trip, we would have won. Really, we needed $2450. But we would have been victorious - Hands down. Is it worth spending half of the prize to get the W?! Absolutely. Bringing that W home meant we could come back and not have to worry about getting evicted, which is now ever pressing in our minds. It legitimizes our work. It lends us credibility, and perhaps, it would have let the folks at the local CDFIs know that we’re actually worthy. If we had the cash, this is how we would have used it:

· $150 would have been spent brewing our delicious flagship brews: Stokely Stout and Dat Dere Ginger Beer. These would have impressed both the judges and the crowd. There have been indisputably positive, overwhelming, and enthusiastic reviews for these two delicious brews.

· $50 would have allowed us to make enough of the Ginger Brew botanicals for all of the conference attendees.

· $350 would have allowed us to buy a jockey box so that we could have kept the brews fresh and served them fresh to participants, attendees, and judges. Admittedly, our head retention was super low because of the beer being in growlers for days. Since we’re on a budget (what an understatement), we had to pour the beer with us when we left NC on Tuesday morning. Not ideal for a competition where folks wouldn’t be tasting until 48 hours later.

· $175 would have been enough for us to print our marketing materials, business cards, and make sure that we had them in time for the conference.

· $250 would have been enough for our much needed logo re-design.

· $750 would have given us the opportunity to have the mock ups of the bottle labels completed as well as much needed new swag so that we could appropriately represent the brand. Shit, it would have been nice to have some branded growlers instead of print-at-home Avery labels, that didn’t stick, on the growlers. There’s just some marketing stuff we need to tighten up.

· $500 transportation – So, we needed an oil change, gas, and DAMN – NYC transportation is expensive!

· $150 for food – We’ve been super frugal and have some “government assistance” that we can use as individuals to help offset our costs. So grateful for this social program right now!

· $75 for spiritual supplies – Absolutely necessary. We would have loved to be able to build an altar at #bbsession. However, cash was tight and we were a rolling altar.

As is typically the case at things like this where either one or both of us present, they said we were the best. We had the best pitch. They were inspired. Some folks were in tears. They called us the “people’s beer.” Many folks were really apologetic and said that if they could have voted, they would have voted for us. Ekua and I (both collectively and individually) stood by the drinks being poured and listened to folks responses when they tasted our beers. They loved it. We loved the older white dudes saying “wow!” “This is good” “Haven’t had anything like this before.” “What is this? I like this a lot” “Where can I buy it.” Our security guard friend really loved hearing people’s responses and continued to give us encouragement throughout the day. After the pitch, he was very apologetic and encouraged us to keep going. He let us know we were the best and there wasn’t even anyone else who could come close.

It was so odd to keep hearing these comments throughout the rest of the day and evening. Later, after folks got a bit more liquored up J, we found out we were second place. Some of the judges wish they would have known more information. We wish they would have asked.

There was a moment on the stage where I was waiting for questions. I grew up in Bel Air, Maryland; in Harford County; in the suburbs. I went to all Blue Ribbon schools. I’m a woman. I’m a Black woman. I was waiting to be asked questions so I could respond. No one ever asked questions, so I sat silent. I feel like, ironically enough, Audre Lorde is kicking me in the ass… They were drinking The Lorde. “My silences never protected me…” FUCK! Then, I watched my male colleagues (mostly white) just start speaking and responding. What the actual fuck? Why didn’t I do that? Oh, right, I was raised to be silent, respect authority, and all that female subjugation bull shit. Wasn’t it the former Sales Manager Dan Dalton who told me not to ask for people’s time, just take it. Fuck, these dudes have grown up like that their whole lives and just created space to talk and interact with the judges. Why didn’t I? Fucking patriarchy. Shit.

So we won silver. Cool. I’m really excited for all of the collaborations, partnerships, and opportunities that are on the horizon.

However, I can’t stop thinking of other Black women who’ve been in competitions like this. They ended up not winning the competition, were clearly the best, and made great careers. Look at Jennifer Hudson. The most successful American Idol contestant. She lost to a (closeted at the time) gay white man and super sweet cuddly bear Black dude. Jennifer was clearly the best. J-Hud has gone on to establish herself in the industry and continue to push and inspire. Y’all know I love The Rap Game… Look at Nia Kay. She DEFINITELY should have won over Mediocre Mani (at best) and Keep it Together Key (I love you, Lil Key though). Nevertheless, she kept it pushing and is really becoming solid on the young rap scene. Of course, there’s my home girl: Deetranada. Dee had some challenges but needed the win. Nova, due to skill, arrogances, and his support crew, would have been able to make it in the industry. Deetranada inspires so many, grew so much, and really focused. But damn, she’s still on the So So Def tour.

Of course, there’s always the case of HRC – Hillary Rodham Clinton. After having to concede to the young Barack Obama in ’07, she came back kicking and did great things for our country. SHE WON the popular vote, after it has been confirmed that there has been Russian interference, and still she persists. Fucking badass. They told her she wouldn’t win, she won (but didn’t), and even in the wake of all these haters, including in her party, she continues to work tirelessly for a better place for all of us.

You know, this is not new. Black culture being told its second rate. Let’s look at “Living Single”. The white version of this became wildly popular and created stars. It was called, “Friends.” Or let’s look at “Waiting to Exhale.” I’ve never met a Black woman who hasn’t seen this movie. For us, it was a first. It pretty accurately captured our experiences. Of course, “Sex in the City” was the spin off. Our culture wasn’t enough, it was too different, too unique, and too authentic. But not so much so that white folks wouldn’t want to experiment with it and launch their own.

On the intentional sweetness of our beers: We know our folks. Our folks love sweet drinks: kool-aid, sweet tea, and so forth. How many types of juice or soda (Fuck high fructose corn syrup), do you have in your fridge right now, folks of color? The industry depends on us having this sweet tooth. Folks capitalize on us having it and have made our folks addicted through the harmful additives. We know this and want to queer this a bit. AND, we know folks love smoking and drinking. The bitterness of the cigarettes or other rolled sweets necessitates something sweet and refreshing. But again, it’s not their market or culture to understand UNLESS it can make them money. Here’s the secret: it can and it will. We’ll be the beer pioneers on this front.

This mindset of the liberal whites at this conference helps me to understand the mindset of those who voted for Trump against their best interest, right? They were and are so tied in to the system that they literally cannot conceive another way. The misappropriations of their power were astounding. The cowardice was something I could never truly comprehend. It’s like its easier for them to uphold the system that do something as so radical as voting with what’s in the heart. To contextualize: what’s the worst that could have happened if we won? Empowerment of Black, queer folks living on the margins? Affirming the dignity and value of something that’s unique and distinctive that the industry just spent an entire day saying it needs? Supporting the authenticity that was so vividly described in discussed in the opening? Or perhaps, just taking a chance. Folks take chances all the time, especially as related to our freedom and liberation. Think about the folks that voted for Trump just because they couldn’t vote for a woman. “It just didn’t feel right”, they said. I heard these people say just that as I stood with them for hours outside of Lenoir-Rhyne University waiting to see him.

Look y’all, folks talk the talk about being authentic. But when you’re Black, you can’t be too authentic or too real because you’ll scare whites. Right? The back lash to white folks realizing their privilege and their agency to be change-makers, is and has historically been to uphold the status quo. It’s frightening to be the ones to be change makers and quite frankly, most folks don’t have the courage. It was so fucking awkward to be at the after party and overhear folks talking (in their quiet white circles) about how they thought we should have won, how inspiring we were, what could they do, did they know *insert X fact that we shared*. This happens so frequently in situations like this. Where we could have won, did not, or where we could have received funding, or a place to call home, whatever!... and then folks find out more and are deeply saturated in their white guilt and shame. 5 people literally began to tear up and cry on that roof top. How was I supposed to hold space for their sorrow, guilt, and shame while still processing that we lost, juxtaposed with folks saying we were the best, the best they’ve ever seen, etc.? Uh, what? I think about what my father told me… it is these types of folks who allowed lynchings to happen in his home state of South Carolina. It is these folks who may have voted for Trump. And it is these folks that we’ll continue building with because this is our work and the work of #blackstarlinebrewing. This is the work we’re being called too. This is why its imperative for Black Star Line Brewing to exist now, to radicalize these spaces, and to help us (as our new friends at Good City say) “seek the good”.

And yes, it’s pretty awesome that we cranked out these brews, in 9 days, on our homebrew equipment, and got the silver. That’s fucking badass. So yes, they told us we wouldn’t win. But I’m certain they weren’t expecting us to get the silver!

All of this to say, hell yes – we are so grateful to have been at the event, make connections, have a platform, and let the industry know we’re on the come up. We’re blessed beyond belief and never imagined even competing in something like this. We’re so grateful for the prayer warriors and those who held us in the light. Grateful for Gma’s prayers with Starla cooking in the background and Jo eating too many cookies. We’re grateful Bishop prayed over us and anointed us. We’re grateful my Pop (Larry) prayed fervently. My family held us in prayer and in the light. The community was on their knees, we felt it. Thank you. We’re so appreciative of all of the affirmations and commitments for collaboration, assistance, mentoring, and support. We’re following up with all of y’all! Black Star Line Brewing Co. is the new kid on the block and we’re changing the scene, y’all.

Well, folks kept asking “What’s next” for Black Star Line Brewing Co. Most immediately, we’re gonna figure out how to get this $ so we can pay rent and not be evicted. We’re gonna figure out how to get out here and start pitching more. We HAVE to figure out where this funding is going to come from so we can actually get out here and start brewing. Where are all these white, liberals, and progressives who voted for Barack Obama and Kamala Harris? Where are these kick ass beer folks who are so interested in transforming the industry and want to talk about diversity? Note: diversity is very different than inclusion or even intersectionality. Diversity is the polite white way to say we have a problem with all the homogeneity, and we don’t know how to fix it, but we’re afraid to do anything other than what we’re doing now, because there might be too much of y’all; what’s the minimal thing that we can do to not get ourselves screwed, sued, and look like white supremacists? And we certainly can’t have more of you than us! So help us diversify, good darkie.

What’s next is that we’re gonna continue to grind. After all, we’re a grassroots, family centered brewery launching a social movement rooted in self-determination, social entrepreneurship, collective economics, and our collective healing and liberation. We’re creating pathways out of poverty for folks, including us. We’re strong. We’re resilient. We are #blackstarline.

#bbsession #blackstarlinebrewing #blackbrewculture #blackpeoplelovebeer

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