#Now it’s APRIL and I am TWENTY and soon it will be APRIL TWENTY-FOURTH TWENTY-TWENTY-FOUR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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Verboten - Chapter Twenty Seven.

I’m so sorry I’ve kept you all waiting and waiting for weeks on this update! I’m about halway through ch. 28 too, but goodness knows when I’ll have it ready. I’m currently preparing to move premises at work, and that’s so damn stressful. UGH! I am dedicated to seeing this through to the end, though. I love these two too much not to complete their story!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three Twenty Four Twenty Five Twenty Six

Visuals - The Verboten cast of characters post

Words - 2,792

Warnings - None

Tag list - In the comments! To be added/removed, please DM me :)

“Do you think we need to have some kind of intervention?”

“Hmm, I mean it seems a good idea in theory, but in practice? Zoey will storm out and Ella will scream at us. I honestly think we need to just leave them to find a way back to one another in their own time.”

“Or we could just ask Tyler when we get there?”

Cait’s suggestion was probably the wisest, Fran nodding as she rooted in her bag for her phone as they pulled into the Starbucks drive-thru, ready to pay for their order. They were picking up lunch and coffees all round (except for Tyler, who vehemently stated that the chain coffee outlet was rubbish and surlily refused to drink it) on their way to visit, he-who-hated-Starbucks just recovering from a second operation on his shoulder.

When they arrived, though, he wasn’t exactly in the state to talk.

“How you doing, big fella?” Fran asked, bending to kiss his head.

“Fuckin’ jazzed off my nuts! Your tits look awesome in that top, mate.”

“Tyler!” Her scream of laughter made him beam.

“Oh god,” Zoey exclaimed, slapping her still grinning boyfriend on the thigh. “He’s high as a kite and thus, his filter has gone completely. They had to reconstruct more than they were expecting and thus cut him deeper, so he’s mostly in agony without being dosed up.”

“I’m fine!” he shouted, laughing to himself. “It’s what you four all have in common as sisters. A crackin’ rack.”

Cait nearly choked on her coffee, Zoey hiding her face and Fran booming with laughter, Tyler looking very pleased with himself.

“Enough, go to sleep!” Jerking her head in the direction of the kitchen, they left him to it, muttering and laughing to himself, all sitting down at the table and eating their toasted sandwiches.

“So, how’s he been?” Cait asked, reaching for the pepper to grind a liberal sprinkling across hers.

“He had a lousy night, he’s trying not to rely too much on painkillers though because of his past issues, thusly meaning he doesn’t sleep well when he’s in so much pain. I had to talk him into taking the ones he’s on now earlier this morning. I thought they’d have worn off by now! Hopefully he’ll pass out soon, though. He has a window, about two hours of nonsense or unfiltered observations and then he falls asleep,” Zoey replied through a mouthful of hot cheese, licking pesto from her top lip.

“Let’s just hope this time, they’ve sorted it,” Fran spoke, eyes wide. She couldn’t imagine Tyler in a profession that didn’t involve wielding a weapon.

“I know, I really do. The surgeon is really optimistic, though. Hopefully if all goes well with his grip, he should be back in work around April. Of course, he hit the bloody roof about it taking a further six weeks, but you know how Tyler is. He hates sitting around not doing anything.”

“Has it been hard, getting him to rest?” Cait then asked, sipping her coffee.

“Oh my god, the arguments we’ve had about it,” Zoey began, looking between her sisters and thinking how nice it was, to have two of them there. She noticed it, though, the little pang in her chest at the fourth chair being empty, imagining Ella sitting in it. She might have still been angry, but heavens, how she missed her big sis. “I’ve seriously considered using adhesive to keep him sitting still!”

They sat and talked more, catching each other up on their lives, a little lull in the conversation driving Cait to speak the words she hadn’t really planned to, but felt she needed to, noticing the exact same absence there at the table as Zoey had.

“Zo, when can we get you and Ella together to mend things? It’s been months, the family has been torn apart enough. Now, after the initial shock and condemnation, we’re getting used to you and Tyler being together, she’s moved on with Camille, I think it’s time. I mean, I know I can’t rush you, I know there’s a lot of resentment there on both sides of this, but I think if we both wait for you guys to come to this decision of your own volition, we’ll still be waiting next Christmas.”

More silence followed, Zoey crunching through a crust laden with pesto as she contemplated her sister’s words. “I just don’t know. We hate each other so much, for all the obvious reasons. But you’re right, it can’t go on like this. I think I need to swallow my pride a little, don’t I?”

“In order to mend, yes. I mean, talking to her, both of you sitting there and really hashing it out, it might put to bed a lot of the resentment you guys feel toward one another,” Fran suggested with a little shrug, reaching to wipe a crumb from Zoey’s cheek.

“My advice would be to call her up and ask to meet her somewhere neutral, somewhere quiet where you can have a good chat and like Fran says, hash it all out. Don’t expect the relationship to be instantly mended, but see it as the first block to rebuilding it.”

Zoey smiled, grabbing Cait’s hand and then Fran’s, sighing as she nodded. Ella would never call her, she was far too stubborn, but from what Tyler had said, she might be open to such a suggestion if she reached out first. Much later that afternoon, with her phone in hand, she paced around the lounge in a little circle, getting up, sitting down, Tyler with one eye on the documentary he was watching and the other on her.

“You’re wearing the carpet down.”

Stopping, she smiled a little embarrassedly, sitting down once more. “I’m apprehensive. Nervous, too.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he noted, adjusting the pillows behind him a little, his discomfort coming back a little as the painkillers wore off. “What’s the worst she can do? She’s already done it, you’ve both already done the worst you could do to one another. If she continues from that place when you’re taking the first step to mend it all, then that’s on her. I don’t think she will, though.”

Nodding, Zoey took a deep breath, getting up again and striding for the French windows to let herself outside, pressing the call button at last. Her nerves jangled like wind chimes as she heard the dial tone burr, the cool breeze helping calm her a little. She felt hot and tense, her heart fluttering nervously as the phone continued to ring out.

“Hey. Sorry it took a while to answer, I’m clearing out the pantry.” Ella sounded guarded and frosty still, but definitely less so than Zoey had been expecting her to. The venom level had been turned down from a lethal bite to a graze of fangs. “You alright? And Tyler?”

“Yeah, I’m good, he’s alright too. In pain from the op, they had to cut at him much more than anticipated to put it right, but they’ve sorted him now, which is the main thing.”

A long pause followed. “Listen, Ella. I want us to meet up, talk, try and mend things. Would you be open to that?”

She sighed slightly, knowing the time had come but still not feeling one hundred percent open to Zoey’s suggestion. It was time to be brave, though. “Yes. Let’s meet somewhere neutral, but not too public. How about the park? Morning time, when it isn’t busy? I can ask Cami to look after the kids and meet you tomorrow?”

It seemed very quick to Zoey, another pause following Ella’s suggestion. She felt as if she needed time to prepare, but then swiftly reasoned that she’d truly had ample amounts of that already, if she was honest. This? It had been a long time coming. “Okay, shall we say 9am on the bench opposite the playground?”

Ella agreed, their call ending as swiftly as it had begun, Zoey jumping when she felt Tyler’s hand on her shoulder. Even when slightly incapacitated, he still had the quietest stealth mode. Half the time, he didn’t even realise he was doing it.

“That was quick,” he noted, trepidatious over what she might tell him. There’d been no shouting at least, but with her back to him, he hadn’t been able to read the situation clearly while she’d spoken to his ex.

“I’m meeting her tomorrow in the park, 9am. We’re gonna talk.” It was the reply he’d been hoping for, but couldn’t deny a part of him thought that despite what she’d told him, Ella might have stonewalled her younger sibling once more. “I’m shitting myself already. I mean, she sounded alright just now, still frosty, still quintessentially angry Ella, but there was a little thaw there. There had to have been, for her to even agree to seeing me. I feel so apprehensive, though. I’m still mad at her, she’s still mad at me. Fuck. It’s a mess.”

“Just remember, baby steps. You guys have a long way to go, don’t you, until your relationship is fully mended. Don’t be eager to rush it, just take it a bit at a time, try not to lose your cool either. You both want this to happen. You’re just as anxious as she is about taking that first step, though. It’ll be alright.”

His words were the usual plain sense Zoey was used to him speaking, smiling as he wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her back against his chest, avoiding his sling as she closed her eyes and let herself feel the comfort of his embrace, the breeze cool at her slightly warm cheeks.

As he stroked her back, eventually steering her back inside, Tyler knew she would stress about it, regardless of what he’d said. He couldn’t blame her for that either, really. It had been such a tense situation, one that would now be coming to a head. In one way, he wished he could be there to mediate it, since he’d been the driving force of the fallout between the sisters, but in another, he knew it was for them to sort out, without his input.

He’d done enough as it was. This was definitely something he did not need to get between again.

“You look tired,” Zoey noted after they’d sat back down on the sofa.

“Yeah, I am a bit. I think I might nap.”

“I think I’ll join you.” He smiled, kissing her head as he swung his legs up, Zoey doing the same and snuggling at his side. She wasn’t asleep for long, though, her subconscious ruining her attempt for a longer sleep than twenty minutes by making her dream of Ella, chasing her around the park with a giant hook for a hand she dragged behind her and then swung at Zoey whenever she could gather enough strength and momentum to lift it up from the ground.

Leaving Tyler to sleep on, she quietly got up and headed into the kitchen, setting herself up at the table with her laptop in order to get some work done. One thing she really missed about her apartment was the office space, which didn’t exist within Tyler’s abode.

It was a big factor in her reasoning that she wasn’t ready to move in with him yet on a permanent basis. Not that he’d asked, or would likely for a while yet, she thought, but her own space and little sanctuary that was all hers was definitely not on the cards to trade for domestic bliss just yet. She was very happy with him and deeply in love, but it didn’t mean she wanted to rush anything.

Throughout the afternoon, she found herself stopping at several points through detailing financial plans to think on how she would begin her conversation with Ella, each time her stomach rolling over with nerves. She knew it had to happen in order to begin applying the first stitches to the gaping wound that was her relationship with her elder sister, but suffered what could only be described as crippling blankness.

What on earth could she say? Offer the same apology as she had before?

“Yes, that’s exactly what you have to do, now she actually might be ready to listen.” Her muttered response to her thoughts was followed by the memory of how deliberately uncomfortable Ella had made her feel, the last time she’d attempted to voice her regret at her input in tearing her marriage apart.

Immediately, her heart leapt within her chest.

It had been the most horrible altercation she could remember, with anyone, ever. The memory of it persisted, just as Ella had designed it to, but this time, after at least hearing her vastly different tone when they’d spoken earlier, Zoey could at least feel some comfort that her sister wasn’t likely to behave in such a way for a second time.

Try telling her brain that, though.

All night, she worried about it, despite Tyler telling her that the rational scenario was that Ella wanted to work on their relationship just as much as she did. It didn’t really penetrate her psyche as much as either would have liked it to, though, meaning that while he slept, she lay awake, playing out how the meeting might go from all angles in her head, finally managing to find some shut eyed peace at around 3am.

“Here.” A large, steaming mug of coffee came into her eyeline as she stood at the mirror, taking in her slightly bleary-eyed appearance at 8am the following morning.

“You should be resting, not making me drinks,” Zoey chided lightly, turning to kiss Tyler’s chest.

“You’d be surprised at all the things I can do one handed.” A brief tickle between her legs had her giggling, pushing his arm as she shook her head, adding a few more chest kisses.

“Down boy. No exertion, remember?”

“Hm.” The deep rumble in his throat was half acceptance, half displeasure at being reminded of such.

“I’ll blow you later, so long as your ex doesn’t smack all my teeth out my mouth.”

“You don’t need teeth to suck cock though, baby.”

“Oh, and here was me thinking you liked a little pain?” Reaching out, she grasped his nipple, pinching it with a little twist. The action went right to his crotch.

“Stop it, or I’m gonna make you late. No exertion be damned, you’ll be bent over this sink and pounded so hard, you can’t see straight. And now I can’t stop thinking about that so I’m gonna excuse myself and let you get ready.”

Zoey snorted laughing in his wake as he walked off muttering, his inflated cock tenting his boxers. He might have been in pain from his surgery still, but that didn’t stop him from being like a caged tiger in heat. She was glad he seemed to be more chipper than usual that morning, still wincing in pain here and there, but generally with more of his usual spark returned. It had to have worked; she couldn’t bear to think about how miserable he’d be if he couldn’t return to the police.

She washed, brushed her teeth and applied minimal makeup before dressing in her favourite baggy sweater and leggings, slipping her ballet pumps on and finishing her coffee before kissing Tyler goodbye, taking his keys and leaving. Her car was parked in by his truck, so it made sense to just drive that, since he’d had to get over his issue with her behind the wheel of his prized possession, now that she was his chauffer while he healed.

The little traffic around meant that she was early as planned, pulling up in a parking space to the left of the park and walking around to the entrance gate, across the grass until the play area came into view, as well as Ella sitting there waiting. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who’d wanted to arrive early.

As she approached, she also saw that she wasn’t the only nervous one, Ella doing her tell-tale fiddling with her keys as she sat, one of the biggest giveaways to her feeling trepidatious over something. With every step, Zoey’s heart thundered wildly, her legs feeling like heavy jelly, her sister looking up and smiling a thin-lipped half smile at her, her face pretty much unreadable as she sat down, leaving the kind of gap she never usually would have.

“Hey.”

“Hi, thanks for meeting me.”

Zoey was still completely blank on what the hell to say, one thought and one thought only echoing through her head as she finally formed speech. ‘Here we go. Time to mend it.’

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth fic #chris hemsworth x oc #chris hemswrth x ofc #tyler rake #tyler rake smut #tyler rake fanfiction #tyler rake fanfic #tyler rake fic #tyler rake x ofc #tyler rake x oc #tyler and zoey #verboten #verboten story

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years

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Family Pride or Clan Trevor

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage Contains Potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and very smutty content.

Summary: Rod and Kirby talk more about what a potential future together might look like and Rod meets the rest of the Trevor Clan.

Kirby's POV:

The rest of the day was quiet, too quiet, almost as if Roddy was planning something for the get-together tomorrow. The morning of the Twenty-Ninth was quiet still, then we had to leave to go to the get together, we got in my dad's Vauxhall Firenza and I zoned out until we reached the community centre and parked in the overflow parking lot.

I spotted two of my cousins walking over, the identical twins, Mona and Meredith, with their husbands and kids not to far behind them.

"Su’mae"

"Su’mae" They repeated, in unison.

My skin crawled as I recalled all the times over the years that the twins had spooked me.

"Beth ydy eich enw chi?" Mona attempted to ask Roddy.

"Mon, he doesn't speak Welsh, this is Roddy. Rod, this is Mona and Meredith."

"Hi Ladies, I'm Rod, Kirby's boyfriend."

"Cariad?" Meredith looked up at me, my face unmasked showing flushed cheeks, "Cawsoch chi'ch hun yn gariad?"

"Aye."

"Llongyfarchiadau!"

"Thank you, Meredith, How're the kids?"

"Oh, They're fine."

"You speak English?" Rod asked, incredulous.

"Of course we do." The twins answered in unison.

Rod shot me a concerned look, I gave him a knowing but still somewhat scared look in return.

We walked into the centre and I immediately saw the 'welcome home' banner and I couldn't stop the rush of emotions and Rod noticed the change in me, seeing the softer and much more hidden side of me, the part of me that never wanted to leave my homeland for the USA. I rushed outside, sitting on the bench next to the door, Roddy following quickly behind me.

"Woah, woah. Are ya alright, baby?"

"I'm fine, just a little light-headed is all."

"Don't you go lying ta me."

"I'm just a little emotional, Rod, it's been a while since I was here and I haven't seen half of my family for much longer than that."

My cousins Pat and Rod came up to the bench.

"Hey Kirby, new fella."

"Hey Patrick, Roderick. Uhh, boys, this is my boyfriend, Roddy. Roddy, my cousins, Patrick and Roderick."

"So," Pat started, "When's the wedding?"

"What are ya talkin' about," Rod (My cousin, Roderick) added, "There's got to be an engagement party before a weddin, Paddy."

"I know Roddy, but then there's also the Hen and Stag Do's, too."

"So, How long you two been dating?"

"Not long enough for you two to be making those jokes." I chided

"Okay, we'll leave you two to your business."

They scarpered off quite quickly after that, leaving me and Roddy (Piper) alone for a while.

"Those two are weird."

"Rod, they're family, of course they're weird."

"They raise a fair point though."

"What do you mean?!" I shot him a confused look

"Well, when would our wedding be?"

"That depends."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, knowing your 'appetite' it depends on if you y'know put me 'up the duff' so to speak, before or after the end of the year."

"Well, if I get you 'knocked up' before the end of the year, you'd marry me at the start f next year?"

"Exactly."

"What if I get you 'knocked up' before the end of next month?" he teased

"Roddy, don't tease me, boyo."

"Oh come on, we'll sneak back to ya Da's Firenza, get in the back, shack up and-"

I covered Rod's mouth with my hand, "Don't be a fuckwit, Roderick," I let him speak again.

"I'm not being a 'fuckwit', I'm suggesting," he placed his hand on my thigh, close to my knee, slowly moving his hand closer to my groin, "We go, shack up, fly back before the second of Feb, if I get you pregnant, then we'll get married sooner rather than later, if I don't then we'll try again."

"Rod, I'm twenty-nine."

"So am I, until April seventeenth. Why? When are you suggesting I get ya 'Knocked up'?"

"I dunno, when I'm thirty, or in my thirties. Not now."

"So, next year. I think I can wait until then," He then whispered something to himself that I could barely hear, "If I don't get blue balls and die."

"Roddy!"

"Ya heard that, didn't ya."

"Rod, I, you, ugh."

"C'mere baby." He pulled me closer, one hand on my thigh and the other cupping my cheek, giving me a quick kiss on the lips, "I love ya baby, I would wait an eternity to have a family with you," He pulled me back into a longer and more passionate kiss, pulling away when we both needed to breathe.

"I love you, Piper."

"Do you want me to marry ya, before we have kids?"

"Preferably, I don't want you to leave me."

"I'd never leave ya, never, not me."

"Yeah, like you're Prince fucking Arthur."

"That would make you my Guinevere."

"I'm nothing like Guinevere."

The rest of the evening was quite quiet, a family meal at a local restaurant, resulting in a drunken Roddy and me getting somewhat tipsy. Safe to say, my Da did not enjoy driving us back to the house. But I had sobered up somewhat by the time we were in bed for the night, Rod not so much.

"Oh, baby, let me make love to ya."

"Rod, shush."

"But we could be havin' so much fun."

"Roddy, get some rest or you'll hate yourself in the morning."

"But I just wanna kiss ya, and hug ya, and stuff ya pretty little maw wit ma co-"

"Roderick. Shut up."

"Fine, fine. I'll get some sleep, ya bi-"

I pulled him into a rough and passionate kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth before pulling away and shifting positions to straddle his lap.

"ya big sexy beast, c'mere."

He pulled me down into another rough but passionate kiss, using his free hand to grind my grin against his, making sure that I can feel the heat rising from his crotch, barely covered by his briefs, grinding against my own barely clothed frame. The bulge in his pants pressing into the curve of my groin, Rod letting out small grunts and groans, feeling his hand move from my ass to the front of my crotch before feeling him rub at my clit before he slipped his hand into my boxer shorts, rubbing at my clit before checking to see if I'm wet, letting out a satisfied grunt before pulling away from the kiss.

"Would you like me to get you off, Roddy?"

"How about, you give me my release and I give you yours."

"Sure, but we gotta keep this quiet."

Rod pulled me into another heated make out session.

When we woke up the following morning, limbs intertwined, Rod's body on top of mine.

"Morning, beautiful."

"Good Morning, my love."

"What day is it?"

"Monday. Thirtieth, January. Nineteen Eighty-Four."

"I gotta make some calls."

Rod tried to get up, not realising how intertwined our legs were, climbing out of the bed, pulling us both off the bed and landing on his back on the floor with a thud.

"Oh my God, Roddy, are you okay?"

"I'm alright baby, I'm ok, you?"

"I'm alright. I was scared that I hurt ya."

"Nah, you could never hurt me."

I got off of him, pulling him up afterwards and kissing him before he went off to make the calls he needed to. I did my morning routine, my Mam gave me a coffee and I set myself up in the gym half of the garage.

At least an hour passed before I saw Roddy again, I was drinking the final drops of my coffee when he rushed into the gym his concerned expression instantly turning into relief.

"Ya alright, handsome."

"I'm okay honey, I'm okay. Turns out we need to leave earlier than planned, as in before the fourth."

"Then we'll leave tomorrow, my parents will understand. My Da won't like us leaving so soon, so if I were you, I'd go build the familial bridge now so that he doesn't kill ya."

"Alright, I'll go do that. I love ya. Oh, you have a match on the Sixth against S.D Jones."

"Okay, I love you."

I spent another hour in the gym before Piper returned.

"Ya Da has said that he'll kill me if I hurt ya or break ya heart, however he knows that we need to go back to work eventually and trusts that you'll put me in my place."

"Sounds like my Da, hey Hot Rod."

"Hey baby," He got closer, wrapping his arms around my waist, "gimme some sugar."

"No, I'm covered in sweat," I tried to avoid him kissing my neck but failed, "alright, fine, fine. I give in."

He cupped my jaw with his left hand, pulling me down into the kiss, his eyebrows knitted together and my eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, letting Rod control the moment. The moment Rod pulled away I pressed my forehead to his.

"Do you wanna watch me work out?"

"You box, Rod?"

"Golden Gloves Champion. Black belt in Judo, too."

"Handsome and athletic, you are the whole package."

"Thanks for the compliment, but y'know, a strong man is only as strong as his partner."

"Do you mean me or Orndorff and Schultz?"

"You, ya dafty."

"Rod."

"Yes, Kirby?"

"Do you wanna leave tonight, red eye flight, get back before tomorrow morning?"

"Sure, if that's what ya wanna do, we'll go tonight."

"Rod."

"Yeah."

"I want … I would like," I took a second to compose myself," I would like to have a family with you."

He pulled away, locking eyes with me, his tone optimistic, "Really?"

"Absolutely," I wiped a tear away from my eye, "I want to marry you, I want to be a wife and a mother and I want to be with you."

"Do you want to live here, or in the States?"

"Well, America would mean we can work easier."

He let out a small chuckle, smirking up at me, "I love ya, I want to marry ya and be with ya through thick and thin, anything happens, I'll be by your side."

"Promise me, you won't fight with Damien any more."

"I promise you I won't. Promise me, you'll let me tell people about us."

"I promise you, you can tell whoever you want."

"Let's go make ourselves a new home, alright baby?"

"Yeah."

We packed our things and my Da drove us to the airport. I gave my parents a tearful goodbye and we got the next flight back to New Jersey, checking into a hotel in Edison and I left Piper for half an hour to pick up the D200, collecting my paperwork from a nearby DMV centre and going back to the hotel. Rod opened the door, letting me in and slumping on the double bed next to me.

"Hey beautiful."

"Hi Rod, help me with this, please." I gestured to the paperwork

"What is it?"

"Insurance stuff, getting you insured on the D200."

"Give it here, I'll deal with it."

"No Rod, I'm capable of filling it out, just help me with the details."

"Just, gimme the papers," He leaned over and kissed my neck, "let me handle it, baby."

"Not with the mood you're in."

"I can't help that you're sexy."

"Rod, stop thinking with ya dick for five minutes and help me."

"Alright, fine."

We were almost finished with the paperwork when there was a knocking at the door.

"Who is it?"

"Piper, let me in or I'm kicking this door down." The muffled voice threatened.

"Shit, that's Schultz."

"Holy shit, Piper. Are you fucking the female giant?"

That was not Schultz's voice. It sounded like Orndorff.

Piper groaned as he opened the door.

"I'm not fucking her right now, Paul."

"Hi Schultz, Orndorff. Rod get your ass back over here and help me with this."

"Pay me." Rod teased

"With what?" I jokingly responded

"With sex" Schultz and Orndorff said almost simultaneously, giving each other a knowing look.

"All three of you share a brain." I mumbled

Piper groaned, gesturing for me to give him the papers, I complied and he read through it, mumbling the words of the document to himself.

Schultz looked from me to Piper before nudging Orndorff's arm, "They look like they're already married, Paul. Piper's got himself a wife."

"I'm not his wife-"

"She's my girlfriend." Roddy interrupted

"I was gonna say that Roddy."

"I know baby, I know."

"Jeez Rod, get her pregnant or somethin' boy."

"David!" I chided

"I would, but she's got a fight on the sixth."

"Roddy!" Orndorff chastised

We spent the rest of the evening with the boys and eventually I fell asleep next to Roddy. I woke up the next morning with Roddy next to me.

"Morning Kirby."

"Good morning, Roderick, ya handsome fool."

"I love you too honey," Rod kissed my forehead, "I filed the paperwork for ya."

"Thank you. What's the time?"

"About, half ten in the morning. Do ya wanna go grab breakfast?"

"I'd thought you'd never ask."

END OF FAMILY PRIDE or CLAN TREVOR

#wrestling fic #Lucifarians

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

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okay so ABM? I feel would fit best - Florence being sick (maybe while pregnant !!!) and she's like in bed and sleeping and they have some event or smth or she has a break down (because hormones, duh) that she wants to do her nails and get dressed and look pretty even though she's a literal goddess anyways AND AND WHILE SHE'S HAVING A NAP AFTER HER BREAKDOWN, DANIEL PULLS OUT THE NAIL POLISH AND DOES HER NAILS???!!! AND THEN THE GIRLS WANT HIM TO PAINT THEIRS TOO MAYBE?!!!

Monday, April 22, 2024

It was the day before Florence’s twenty-fourth birthday and she was not entirely thrilled about it. In fact, she was quite miserable. Her twin brother, Callum, had called that morning and they had finalized plans for a dinner on their birthday with their friends and, of course, Clementine and Penelope. Daniel didn’t have to work too late the day before her birthday, so he came home super excited to spend more time with his little family, being able to pick up Clementine from morning kindergarten on the way home.

Clementine loved when Daniel picked her up from school because it was such a special treat and she talked his ear off the whole way home about everything she did in school.

“I drawed Mommy a picture for her birthday.” Clementine said, kicking her legs up against the seat in front of her.

“You drew her a picture?” Daniel corrected sweetly. “What did you draw for her?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Alright.” Daniel chuckled.

When they got home, Clementine rushed right to her room to put her backpack away, making sure to stay quiet with Penelope napping in the next bed. Daniel set her up in front of the TV while he went to find Florence down the hall in their room. She was sitting in the ensuite, sprawled out on the tile floor in sweatpants and one of his hoodies, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and when Daniel walked in, she pouted up at him.

“What are you doing on the floor?” Daniel chuckled softly.

Florence let out a small whimper and hid her face in her hands to try and muffle her tears.

“Hey, hey,” Daniel crouched down beside her, pulling her hands from her face, “No tears before your birthday.”

“I don’t want to have a party!” Florence cried.

“Well it’s just a dinner.”

“I don’t care! I’m hideous!” Florence sobbed.

“Oh my gosh. You are not.” Daniel gaped.

“Yes, I am! I just wanted to paint my stupid toenails,” she tossed a hand out to the small bottle that was sitting beside her on the floor, “but I can’t reach them because your fat-ass kid is inside me! And my ankles are freaking huge! Look at them!”

She tried to lift her leg up into his face to show him but she flopped right over onto her back and cried into her hands in frustration.

“I don’t want to be ugly and fat on my birthday!”

“Hey,” Daniel set a hand against the tile on her other side so he was leaned right over her, “there is no way you’re talking about my wife like that.”

“Your wife is ugly.” Florence snapped through her hands.

“Florence Margret Seavey, you listen to me.” Daniel scolded, pulling her hands from her face and leaned in front of her so she had no choice but to look at him. “You always have been and always will be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen with my own eyes. And, sweetheart, you are glowing through this pregnancy. You are growing a whole person inside your body and you are freaking glowing.”

“You put a huge-ass kid inside me and now I can’t fit in my of my favourite dresses.” Florence mumbled.

“And I would put fifteen more in you if I could.” Daniel retorted, making her giggle softly. “I’ll pick you out a nice birthday outfit, okay?”

“Okay.” Florence sniffled.

Daniel leaned down to kiss her before standing up and he pulled her off the bathroom floor. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and she stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, her hands falling to her swollen stomach.

Daniel slid his hands around her waist and pressed kisses over her shoulder and up her neck to graze his lips over her ear, “I don’t want any more tears, okay? Not about how you look especially.” he rubbed his hands over her large belly, “And not about our unborn daughter either, thank you very much. She can hear you, you know.”

“I know.” Florence mumbled.

“Tell her you’re sorry.”

Florence huffed, setting her hands over his on her stomach and looked down at it, “Sorry, little girl.”

“Would you like me to paint your nails for you?” Daniel whispered.

“You’d do that?” Florence pouted at him through the mirror.

“Mhm. If it will make you happy.”

So Florence was sat on the couch beside Clementine as the little girl watched her bit of afternoon TV and Daniel sat on the coffee table to carefully paint Florence’s toenails. He had a pretty steady hand but nail polish wasn’t the easiest product so it was a little blotchy but Florence was more than grateful. Clementine was thoroughly intrigued by the nail polish, watching the soft pink being applied to her mother’s toenails and she cuddled up with her as she watched her father work quietly.

Penelope had woken from her nap by the time Daniel had moved to Florence’s hands and the two little girls sat together in perfect calm silence, watching with wide eyes and open mouths like painting nails was the most interesting thing since sliced bread. When she was done, Florence thanked her husband with a sweet kiss and he glanced over at his two daughters as he screwed back on the lid of the bottle.

“Do you want pretty nails for Mommy’s birthday too?” he offered.

The girls chorused an excited, “Yeah!”

So he started with Clementine, holding her small hand against a paper towel on the coffee table to keep her still as he filled in her nails with the same soft pink. Penelope stood next to her sister who was kneeled on the carpet, watching in awe with her messy hair still flying all over from her nap and her blue eyes flicked carefully between her sister’s hands and her father’s serious face of concentration. When Clementine was done, she sat back on the couch with Florence who instructed her to keep her hands out and fingers spread to not smudge the paint.

Penelope held her hand out on the paper towel next, not looking entirely sure about the concept of nail polish yet but Daniel worked slowly and carefully. He only got two nails done before she was yanking her hand back,

“No like that!”

“I know it tickles, doesn’t it?” Daniel reached for her hand again to pull it back on the paper towel. “Just eight more fingers, okay? I’ll be super quick.”

Penelope let him keep working, her discomfort overpowered by the trust she had in her father and soon she had a set of ten soft pink fingernails.

“Pretty?” Daniel asked, screwing back on the cap to the bottle.

Penelope nodded and turned to show Florence with a small smile.

“Wow, we’re all matching.” Florence grinned between her two daughters. “Say thank you to Daddy.”

Clementine and Penelope shared a sweet, “Thank you, Daddy!”

“You’re most welcome, little ladies.” Daniel stood up from the other side of the coffee table and cleared the paper towel. He leaned down to kiss his wife once more.

“Thank you, baby.” she whispered.

“Anything for you.” Daniel smiled and headed down the hallway to put the nail polish away.

Florence called after him, “Soon you’re gonna have four pairs of hands and four pairs of feet to paint! I hope you’re ready!”

“I should open a spa at this rate!”

#anything but mine #this is cute #daniel seavey #why dont we

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dansnaturepictures · 3 years

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19/04/2021-Part 1 of 2: Portland Bill (10 different pictures in this photoset to those I tweeted tonight)

I had my first day of annual leave in a week off today and for that day we did what I believe will be the furthest away trip of a few day trips we are aiming to do and one of our favourite trips to do in the country, going to Portland harbour and bill and we called into RSPB Lodmoor on the way back having passed other Weymouth nature reserve Radipole Lake on the way in too. We had an incredible day of wildlife watching and photos today it was absolutely one of the best days of my year so far. I saw butterflies and flowers well again too alongside stunning scenery in the most gorgeous of sunshine today but I think birds will take the headlines as we timed our visit to this migration hub perfectly to pick up some needed and crucial species coming throughout the day in a nice variety of habitats I got a staggering eight bird year ticks today, taking my year list to 141. This is a monumental figure to reach as it means I have now seen the same amount of birds so far this year as I had at this stage last year. With 2020 not locked down at the very beginning obviously (lockdown did rather stall its figures or slow down the year ticks at this stage last year but the year ticks did trickle in on exercise walks and at home too) I was very far behind what I had seen last year for so long, but as I have charted the last month and a half has just been incredible as I have revived my year list for numbers so much with some phenomenal species seen as well. So to have caught up with last year is a great testament to what a run it’s been and I am very proud to have been able to do that safely. It took some unprecedented days to do it and this was another, the last time I got eight year ticks in a day was as my year list was in its infancy on 5th January when you can easily get a lot of year ticks in a day as you need to see everything. So this makes it the joint third highest amount of bird year ticks I’ve got in a single day in 2021 so far, behind the sixty on New Year’s Day and ten on 3rd January not bad for a little way into a year and with the Easter weekend which was extraordinary and one in between I’ve got twenty two year ticks this month so far its always interesting in a year as January is a given to be the month you get most year ticks in with everything to aim for but either February, Mach or April tend to be second highest as we get into the spring and April wins by far this year.

Leveling 2020 means my year list is the joint third highest one of mine has ever been on this date behind my two year lists with the highest overall totals 2019 and 2018 and its staggering I’m only within one and four birds respectively of what I had seen at this stage in those record years for me so this year list revival has really come on this is the strongest position of comparison to my other year lists since the first weeks of the year with obviously this year I had my highest ever New Year’s Day total, some of the other year lists of mine crept ahead since Easter which I saw studying them at the weekend and I was looking at numbers and thinking ah that grows here etc. but all of a sudden with eight today its nudged in front of them again which is quite exciting and there is belief and hope for a memorable total again now.

In my next post I talk about some bits that happened today at home before and after the trip, and what happened at Portland harbour where we called in on first and at RSPB Lodmoor so it jumps around a bit just to aid not only blog length but allow me to post some photos on here only and not Twitter to reduce the amount being uploaded there. This blog is about where we spent the most time today Portland Bill.

We reached the bill I took the first two pictures in this photoset of the lighthouse and the interesting sky today and sky on its own and anticipated using the telescope (I mention this in my next post) to try and see the seabirds at Portland Bill something we had been doing for fourteen years and I was as excited now to try and see the auks and others today as I was back then, the Portland Bill trip for that was always quite a cup final type of day for me being a big and packed day out that I was so excited where you were so focused on the day and what you hoped to see. With Weymouth being my childhood holiday location to and a very special place for me therefore as my second home really it just adds so much to the excitement of this day too it was great to take in Weymouth on the way to Lodmoor later on. Greeting us alongside the iconic lighthouse, sunshine and that cloud formation at the bill was a pretty looking Rock Pipit we got a stunning view of it a key bird for this place. I tweeted a picture of that Rock Pipit on Dans_Pictures tonight as well as lots more. I took the third picture in this photoset of some flowers.

We made our way towards the rocks overlooking the sea a view here with some distinctive land art for the area included is shown in the fourth picture I took today in this photoset and saw three of my favourite birds for the first time this year in quick succession. Firstly my original favourite bird a Guillemot darting by across the water and we went on to see so many of these today on and over the water which was amazing. Through the telescope we then saw some glossy Razorbills on the water and soon Fulmar too. I was in my element as we saw further just how good this telescope was looking at these three very special bird species for me. I do love them so much and we got such great views of all three, especially seeing two Razorbills on the cliff so well in the telescope they were so clear and in focus. I reflected at this point how after months of lockdown it was just so nice to be at a coastal place we hold dear my favourite habitat watching birds I really do adore. I have obviously done my “#ASeabirdADay” Twitter daily past photo tweeting thread on Dans_Pictures which got me very passionately thinking about my almost unparalleled love for and history with seabirds so seabirds in particular was something I longed for when restrictions eased and this sums up exactly what this week off is all about for me.

As we moved on our best of the rest (other than year ticks which always stand out) bird today really was confirmed as we got some cracking views of multiple exotic looking Wheatears. We really did see these white rumped buff birds so many times this afternoon and so well. We then took a splendid walk walk taking in the vast field and ocean, the latter shining perfectly in the ideal and sensational conditions. I so enjoyed being by the sea and being able to take everything in and feel the space all around. I took the fifth picture in this photoset of some Herring Gulls another key bird today and sixth, seventh and eighth of views on the walk.

On the other side of the fenced off area looking over the cliff we got more smashing views of the Fulmars elegantly swerving and gliding at the cliff’s edge along with the Herring Gulls and we saw a Shag here too and it was just sensational to watch a key part of why I love Fulmars. We saw Razorbills here shining on the water too. Seeing these seabirds here was a highlight of my June week off last year which this further afield week mimics a lot so it was great to continue this. As we walked up the cliff we still hadn’t seen a bird we saw for the first time ever here in 2007 and had a brilliant recent record for at Portland Bill the Gannet. When all of a sudden we studied another white bird out to sea and we were thrilled to see the scale and black wing tips of the Gannet. It was another brilliant bird to see again.

As we rounded down off the coast path we saw some more top wildlife species we maybe didn’t expect as much. First with some Wheatears in a field ourselves and some lovely fellow birders we got talking too (we chatted to a nice gentleman in the field working with the horses too) we were delighted to catch sight of a Whinchat one of the birds today shown in the ninth picture I took in this photoset today a record shot. There were a few there and we got to make our their striking reddish bodies and eye stripes, key markings of quintessential migrant. This felt fantastic to see this year and felt a solid bonus as we in honesty usually see them on the outward autumn migration and have a great record for that having seen them then in Hampshire every year from 2015 onwards. So it’s great to get one under the belt already and in the spring this year so this made me happy. Walking along the sun kissed well vegetated pathways back down towards the observatory we loved seeing some small white butterflies dance along the vegetation. We also saw two mating which was fantastic to see always optimistic and fascinating to witness as our butterfly year continued so well I tweeeted a picture of the ones mating. We saw so many brilliant flowers at Portland today too including sea thrift and my first buttercup of the year which is always great.

Year tick number six for the day came by the observatory and in the quarry we had seen the Little Owls at before here, when we saw several magnificent Willow Warblers. We got some good views of this always key bird of spring too, one of our earlier sightings of one in a year so this was good they do brighten things up in spring a lot so this was a really good addition to day and fitted that migration theme so well. By the observatory I took the tenth and final picture in this photoset in some lovely blossom.

Wildlife Sightings Summary: My first of four of my favourite birds the Guillemot, Razorbill, Fulmar and Gannet of the year, my first Whinchat and Willow Warbler of the year, Shag, Cormorant, Herring Gull, Great Black-backed Gull, Raven, Jackdaw, Feral Pigeon, Woodpigeon, Wheatear, Linnet, Skylark, House Sparrow, Dunnock, Blue Tit, lots of great views of Swallows and a Sand Martin, Small White, another butterfly we could not quite tell which it flew very fast and Rabbit.

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docmary · 3 years

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Vaccine hesitancy, molecular mimicry, and blood clots (oh my!)

There were many mixed messages in the world of coronavirus last week. Just as it appears that Michigan is the lead state in the fourth wave of the virus, the US is about to hit a “vaccine wall” as demand drops for vaccinations even though the supply is greatly improved. In the first three months of the rollout for the Pfizer, Moderna, and the Johnson & Johnson/Jantzen (J&J) vaccines, getting shots into arms of the most vulnerable has required a full court press from public health departments and the healthcare establishment, as well as persistence on the part of those trying to wrangle an appointment. The results from state to state have been uneven.

Figure 1

So far 14 states have administered fewer than 75% of the doses distributed to them with Alabama having the lowest vaccination rate per capita. Twenty states have administered more than 80% of the doses distributed to them with the most vaccinations per capita in New Hampshire.[1]

Vaccine Hesitancy:

The good news for those who want to get vaccinated is that it is a whole lot easier to get an appointment now. That said, the goal of herd immunity is a long way off and with demand dropping for jabs, we may not get there. Vaccine hesitancy is an important reason for declining demand and that is a shifting picture.

In a study that was put out by the Kaiser Family Foundation (KFF) in December, 52% of Black Americans said they would “wait and see” before signing up for the vaccine while only 20% said they wanted the shot as soon as possible. The share of Black people who were skeptical of the vaccines was higher than for White respondents (36%) and Latinx (43%).[2]

By March of this year, 55% of Black respondents to another KFF survey said they had been vaccinated or wanted the vaccine as soon as possible. Twenty-four percent were still holding back. Blacks have been one of the hardest hit demographics of COVID-19 and that has, no doubt, played a part in changing minds. Another possible reason for the turnaround in willingness to get vaccinated is because there has been a concerted outreach effort tapping trusted sources such as Barack Obama, sports stars, and other influencers such as Black ministers to address vaccine hesitancy among Black people.

The Urban Institute’s September 2020 Coronavirus Tracking Survey, a nationally representative survey of adults ages 18-64, asked people whether in the last 12 months they had ever felt a doctor, other health care provider, or their staff judged them unfairly or discriminated against them based on their race/ethnicity, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation, a disability, or a health condition and about the consequences of these experiences. This survey indicated that perceptions of discrimination and unfair judgement while seeking health care were higher among Black adults than among Hispanic and White adults in the previous 12 months (September 2019-September 2020).[3]

Figure 2

A “food desert” is described as an urban area that does not have a grocery store within one mile or a rural area that does not have one within ten miles. There is also a “pharmacy desert” that generally occurs in primarily Black neighborhoods in urban areas as well as in rural areas. People of color are less likely to have a family primary care provider and so access to information about the individual’s risks and benefits of getting vaccinated from a trusted source, much less getting an appointment for the vaccine itself, is often more challenging than it is for White people. My guess is that these experiences and the barriers to appropriate care contributed to the initial skepticism among people of color generally and Black people specifically in the initial rollout phase.

FIGURE 3

Meanwhile, Republicans and Evangelical Christians were the most likely groups to say they will not get vaccinated, according to the KFF survey.[4] I do not have an explanation for that. I also don’t know how wearing masks got politicized last year. If anyone has an explanation that doesn’t involve a gang of Democratic, cannibal pedophiles, I am really interested in hearing it.

Molecular mimicry and autoimmune disease:

There are science-based reasons that some are reluctant to get vaccinated. An issue that has been little discussed publicly is molecular mimicry. The theory is that some part of the spike protein of SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19 and is replicated in our cells, is similar enough to our own tissues that the immune system starts attacking our own cells thinking that those cells are the virus. Thus, the vaccine could trigger an autoimmune disease like rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, multiple sclerosis, or other autoimmune condition.

In one study looking for similar protein sequences between the SARS-CoV-2 virus with protein sequences in humans and other mammals, as well as other human coronaviruses, the number of shared protein sequences at two particular sites was quite high for humans, rats, and mice but miniscule or not at all with other human coronaviruses, cats, dogs, rabbits, chimpanzees, gorillas, or macaques.[5] Sadly, the investigators did not include bats, which I think of as flying rats, but that’s just me. It has been hypothesized that the original source of COVID-19 was from bats. Could the virus have molecular mimicry with bats? If so, what does that mean for the species?

These authors believe that much of the damage seen in the “cytokine storm” that causes the worst damage in COVID-19 may, in fact, be due to this molecular mimicry between the virus and, for example, lung tissue. It should also be noted that molecular mimicry from the whole SARS-CoV-2 virus is much more likely than it is from a small part of the virus (the spike protein). If the vaccine can trigger an autoimmune disease, so can the whole virus.

The presence and level of autoantibodies (AAbs) that attack our own cells, frequently detected in patients with COVID-19, are significantly associated with hospitalization and more severe prognosis. Clinically, these patients are more likely to have respiratory distress, acute cardiac injury, acute kidney injury, multi-organ dysfunction with such common complications as coagulopathy and thrombocytopathy (put a pin in this one as it is also at play with blood clots). [6]

Blood Clots and the J&J and AstraZeneca (AZ) vaccines:

Last week the J&J vaccine rollout was put on pause by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) because six women developed unusual blood clots after receiving this vaccination. This was six out of seven million shots given. Some saw this as an over-reaction by the FDA that would likely lead to more vaccine hesitancy. However, these blood clots are different from clots that occur from “the usual suspects” like oral contraceptives and smoking.

Figure 4

A normal number of platelets is between 150,000-450,000 per microliter of blood (there are 1,000 microliters in one milliliter). If you have less than 150,000 platelets per microliter, you have a deficiency called thrombocytopenia. In the clots associated with the viral vector vaccines (J&J in the US and AZ in Europe), the platelets tend to stick together in the veins of the brain, which causes a blockage known as a cerebral venous system thromboembolism (CVST). This creates back pressure of blood in the brain itself, causing damage in the same way a hemorrhagic stroke would. [7]

“Normal” clots are usually treated with a blood thinner called heparin. With vaccine-induced prothrombotic immune thrombocytopenia (VIPIT), there is a deficiency of platelets and so that treatment would only make things worse. While the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the FDA are getting the word out to doctors not to use heparin, they are also looking for ways of figuring out which people are more at risk for this extremely rare complication. Putting the vaccine on pause was clearly the ethical thing to do and this kind of transparency gives me greater confidence in the vaccine rollout.

As is the case with molecular mimicry, the danger of VIPIT happening if a person gets COVID-19 is much higher than it is from either the J&J or the AZ vaccine.

“…If the mechanism is the same, one can speculate that the high occurrence in COVID-19 vs. vaccination is because the whole virus is more thrombogenic [likely to cause clots] than the spike protein alone.” Paolo Madeddu, professor of experimental medicine at the University of Bristol[8]

Symptoms associated with VIPIT include headache, tiny red spots under the skin, blurred vision, fainting or loss of consciousness, impaired movement in parts of the body, or coma. With either of these vaccines these blood clots, so far, only occurs 4-20 days after vaccination. Scientists believe that symptoms before or after that window are likely due to another cause.

It is important to note that COVID-19 itself has been reported to lead to thrombocytopenia (low blood platelets) in up to 41% of positive patients, with the figure going up to 95% of those with severe disease.[9]

Cause for cautious optimism:

Two separate studies published in the New England Journal of Medicine on April 9 indicated that in the case of the AZ vaccine, used in Europe, VIPIT was due to rogue antibodies against platelet factor 4 (PF4). This complication is similar to heparin-induced thrombocytopenia (HIT) and is diagnosed and treated the same way. It can be diagnosed with a lab test called ELISA that is pre-treated with PF4. If there is a big immune response, that means the patient has VIPIT. To be clear, there are lots of things that can cause blood clots and health professionals want to know what the cause is because the appropriate treatment is dependent on what is causing the problem. VIPIT from the AZ vaccine is treated with the administration of intravenous immunoglobins (IVG) and anti-coagulants. The J&J vaccine was not used in either of these studies and so we do not yet know if the same is true for that vaccine, but both are the same type of (viral vector) vaccine and both use an adenovirus as the viral vector.[10]

If we can get the one-and-done J&J vaccine back in use safely, that would be especially helpful for vaccinating unsheltered people. It would also be much easier to use in rural areas because J&J can be stored in a regular refrigerator unlike the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines that must be kept frozen.

My take:

For those who choose not to get vaccinated, for whatever reason, hoping to ride the coronavirus out, you should know that even without a vaccine, the SARS epidemic that hit Asia in 2002 did eventually go away, or, more likely, mutated to a less lethal virus. It took four years, but it can happen. However, that is not what always happens. Case in point, smallpox, which was around since at least the fourth century until it was declared eradicated by the World Health Organization in 1980. I don’t think I know anyone who has had smallpox and I may not know anyone who knows anyone who has had smallpox. In that case, the vaccine worked as intended.

Maybe you may feel like you are strong and healthy and even if you got COVID-19, you are unlikely to get significantly sick. Consider the possibility that you could be asymptomatic but still spread the disease. There are just no options that are completely risk free. Choose wisely.

[1]Romeo, A. (4/15/2021). America is about to hit a “vaccine wall” as demand drops—with or without Johnson & Johnson, Yahoo News. [2]Bunn, C. (4/12/2021). Vaccine hesitancy among Black Americans has turned a corner. Here’s why.”, NBC News. [3]Gonzalez, D., Skopor, L., McDaniel, M., Kenney, G.M. (4/2021). Perceptions of discrimination and unfair judgement while seeking health care, findings from the September 11-28 Coronavirus Tracking Survey, Urban Institute Health Policy Center. Retrieved from: https://www.urban.org/sites/default/files/publication/103953/perceptions-of-discrimination-and-unfair-judgment-while-seeking-health-care_0.pdf [4] Hamel, L., Lopez, L., Kearney, A., Brodie, M.(3/30/2021) KFF COVID-19 monitor: March 2021. Retrieved from: https://www.kff.org/coronavirus-covid-19/poll-finding/kff-covid-19-vaccine-monitor-march-2021/ [5]Kanduc, D., Shoenfeld, Y. (9/18/2020). Molecular mimicry between SARS-CoV-2 spike glycoprotein and mammalian proteomes: implications for the vaccine, Immunol. Res. doi: 10.1007/s12026-020-09152-6 [6]Macela, A, Kubelkovak, K. (3/22/2021). Why does SARS-Co-V-2 infection induce autoantibody production? Pathogens, 10(3). doi: 10.3390/pathogens10030380 [7]Taylor, A. (4/16/2021). Blood clot risks: comparing AstraZenica vaccine and the contraceptive pill, The Conversation. Retrieved from: https://theconversation.com/blood-clot-risks-comparing-the-astrazeneca-vaccine-and-the-contraceptive-pill-158652 [8]Russell, P. (4/15/2021). Vaccines carry far lower risk for rare blood clots than COVID, study shows, Medscape News UK [9] Op cit Taylor, A. (4/9/2021). [10] Grenacher, A., et. al. (4/9/2021). Thrombocytic thrombocytopenia after ChAdOx1 nCoV-19 vaccination, NEJM. doi:10.1056/NEJMoa2104840Schulz,NH, et. al. (4/9/2021). Thrombocytic thrombocytopenia after ChAdOx1 nCoV-19 vaccination, NEJM. doi: 10/1056/NEJMoa2104882

#vaccination #covidー19 #astrazeneca vaccine #johnson and johnson #blood clots #molecular mimicry #autoimmune disease

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shitpostingfromthebarricade · 4 years

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1.3.2 Double Quatuor

For @brickrenouveautions (which officially ends tomorrow!!)

Of the New Yorkers, one was from Los Angeles, another from Chicago, the third from San Francisco, and the fourth from Washington DC; but they were students, and to live in New York City is to be of New York City.

These young men were unremarkable. Everyone knows the type, and these four serve as fine examples: neither good nor bad, neither learned nor ignorant, neither talented nor stupid; handsome in that charming April of life we call twenty. They were four Chads; for at this time, Brads did not yet exist. “Everybody make some noise!” exclaim the underclassmen. “My boy Chad! Chad’s coming at you hot!” DJ Khaled was everywhere; elegance was champagne and fancy cars; the business-casual type was not prevalent till later, and the first of the Brads — Elon Musk — had only just launched SpaceX.

The first of these Chads was called Félix Tholomyès, of LA; the second, Listolier, from San Fran; the third, Fameuil, from Chicago; and the last, Blacheville, from DC. Of course, each had his lady: Blacheville loved Favourite, with the u because she had been to England once; Listolier adored Dahlia, who had chosen to assume the name of a flower when she arrived at university; Fameuil idolized Zéphine, a nickname for Josephine; and Tholomyès had Fantine, called ‘the blonde’ because of her beautiful hair, which shone like the newly-released iPhone 6 plus in gold.

Favourite, Dahlia, Zéphine, and Fantine were four sorority girls, perfumed and made up, still somewhat students since they hadn’t finished all of their classes, plagued by relationship drama yet maintaining that youthful livelihood of carefree undergraduates and the resilient hopefulness that enables women to survive that first fall. One was called ‘the baby’ because she was the youngest, and another was called ‘Grandma’ — Grandma was twenty-three. To put it plainly, the first three were well-versed in the ways of the world, and Fantine the Blonde was still rather innocent.

Dahlia, Zéphine, and particularly Favourite were not. Fantine had already had far more than the average amount of drama in her relationship — ‘the drama’ named ‘Adam’ the first time, ‘Alex’ the second, and ‘Augustus’ the third. Debt and vanity are awful consciences: one says you shouldn’t, the other says you should, and beautiful women always seem to have both. When they inevitably make a misstep, society punishes them for it. All the world, just barely out of reach! Did Watson ever long for more?

Favourite, having been to England that one time, was Zéphine and Dahlia’s idol. She’d had her own place off-campus even as a freshman. Her dad was a proud, self-important math professor who never got married; when he was younger, his secretary bent over to pick up some papers he’d knocked to the floor, and without meaning to, he’d fallen in love. Favourite was the result. She still saw her dad on campus sometimes, and when she did he’d give a distracted nod as he hurried off to wherever he was going.

One morning, an old woman let herself into Favourite’s apartment. “Do you know who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m your mother.” Immediately she’d helped herself to the contents of Favourite’s fridge and made herself at home in the guest bedroom. Favourite’s mom was a mean old hag: she never talked to her daughter and would sit around for hours without saying anything; she ate enough for four; and when she did leave it was to go to the building’s lobby to gossip and complain about Favourite.

Listolier had a nail fetish, and Dahlia had beautiful nails which she was careful to maintain with regular manicures and a healthy regiment of promiscuity. All Zéphine had to do was say “Yes Sir” in a particular tone to have Fameuil wrapped around her little finger.

The lads were all friends, as were the girls, so it was convenient.

There’s a difference between being wise and being philosophical: Favourite, Zéphine, and Dahlia were philosophical where Fantine was wise. But how can Fantine be wise and then date Tholomyès? Well, Solomon would argue that to know love is a prerequisite for being wise. This was Fantine’s first relationship: the others may not have been strangers to hook-ups, but for Fantine, sex had meaning.

Fantine, rather than being born, seemed summoned out of nowhere: she had no mother or father, and her birth records must have disappeared with them, so for a long time she had no name either. They had taken to calling her ‘Fantine’ at the agency over the time in which she’d had no papers, and it stuck. She got her first job when she was ten and moved out on her own into the city when she was fifteen, getting into a local university upon graduating with the help of her meager savings and several sizable financial aid packages. Her only wealth was her beauty, gold and pearls in her hair and teeth. Having no other savings, she worked and studied to survive; in order to live, she also loved.

She loved Tholomyès.

To him, it was a fling; to Fantine, it was everything. Frat row knew their courtship well; they would meet at parties, air thick with booze and smoke and sex; Fantine would always leave before things became too heated, but she’d never stay away so long as to discourage him. It was a game of sorts, and Fantine lost.

Blacheville, Listolier, and Fameuil made up their own group of which Tholomyès was the leader. He was the brains of the operation.

Tholomyès’s family was well off and gave him a very comfortable allowance. For thirty years old, he was in terrible shape: his face was wrinkled, his teeth were falling out, and he was already balding. He liked to joke, “Hair at thirty, knees at forty!” His body didn’t agree with most foods (not that he let this discourage him), and he had a weepy eye to boot; he made up for all of this with his personality. He replaced his teeth with jests, his hair with joy, his health with irony, and his weeping eye was always cheerful. He was not unlike a decorated corpse. He wrote a play once that would never be published but that he loved to brag about, told people how he enjoyed dabbling in poetry from time to time, and moreover, doubted everything everyone said with a certain air of authority and superiority that no person with self-awareness enough to understand how little they know would ever dare.

Naturally, this all made him the perfect leader for their band.

One day, Tholomyès took the boys aside and said, “The girls have been wanting a surprise for almost a year now, and we promised we’d do something special. They’re always bringing it up, too; they sound like my dad’s third wife: ‘No es chiste! Que a mí no me importa Jacob no ayuda: si tú no me ayudas, te me vas de la casa, que aquí no estoy de criada.’”

“What does that mean?” asked Fameuil.

“That she was about to turn off my 360. But yeah, the girls are always like, ‘Tholomyès, you promised!’ Meanwhile, our parents have been complaining that they don’t see enough of us. I think the answer here’s pretty obvious.”

Tholomyès lowered his voice to relay his scheme, an idea so unheard of that it left all of them cackling, with Blacheville exclaiming, “You’re brilliant!”

They came across a bar soon after and went their separate ways. The next time they saw the girls, the boys invited them out.

#so I'm actually working on the entire book of In the Year 1817 #but the first chapter is taking a really long time to work through #and at this rate even though I'm nearly finished with ch 2-9 ch 1 won't be finished in time to present for another several days #so here's a preview of what I've finished so far #shitposting sometimes writes #but yeah I've been wanting to upload as I go #but of course the VERY FIRST CHAPTER has to be the one that takes an eternity #and I refuse to publish a placeholder #les mis #guys and grisettes #brick renouveautions #brick renouveautions 2020 #thicc bricc #also it is v important to me that you know that Watson is referring to the IBM supercomputer and not Sherlock

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xhudgenssistersconfessions · 3 years

Text

My Zanessa ff

I tried my best to traslate it my Zanessa ff in a good english. Forgive me, I tried to do my best between having a life and a full time job. You can still find it on wattpad written in italian. Maybe I will publish it on english too if someone is interested. https://www.wattpad.com/user/FrancyF94

- Fran

Chapter 1: I set out on a narrow way many years ago

“I set out on a narrow way many years ago

Hoping I would find true love along the broken road

But I got lost a time or two

Wiped my brow and kept pushing through

I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you "

- “God Bless the Broken Road” Rascal Flatts

Arroyo Grande, California - September 2014

Zac Efron gave a sad look at his childhood home: it always seemed the same house that his father had built when he was just one year old. The grass in the driveway and back garden was yellow and dry from the drought that had hit the state of California during the summer, but the flowers in the flowerbeds her mother tended with great care were in bloom. The old car Mustang of his grandfather Harold was always parked in the driveway and the basketball hoop that his father had set up for him and Dylan when they were little was rusty, but always present . The light beige walls of the house had been repainted by Zac himself a few years earlier. It all looked the same, but now he couldn't stare at that house for more than ten seconds.

Zac was sure that on entering the front door, past the entrance hall, he would find his old grand piano, his father's electronic engineering books stacked in neat rows in the large cedar bookcase , and the whole house wrapped in the scent of his mother's famous blueberry waffles. The he would go upstairs in his old room, and her mother would have lecture him because despite having reached the threshold of twenty-seven years old, Zac’s old room still remained inaccessible because of the piles of clothes strewn on the floor, along with scores music and torn sheets of some script.

The young man closed his eyes, like wanted to hold those memories and fossilize them in his mind, but then the voice of his younger brother Dylan brought him back to reality.

- I can't believe they want to sell the house-.

The 22-year-old made a disgusted face and takes a long sip of beer, wiping his lips with his hands.

-Why didn't you buy it? - he snorted , with an obvious note of reproach.

Zac rolled his eyes and ignored him: his brother's disappoint was not the last thing you had to occupy.

-Dyl, I've already explained why. There is no point in buying it. What was I supposed to do with it?-

-Leave it like this! Fuck, it's like we're selling our whole life! All of our memories are in here! - Dylan kicked a frustrated kick at the " Sold" sign that towered undisturbed on the lawn, and immediately regretted it, cursing at the pain that he had caused to himself.

-Dylan , I already have two houses. I don't need a third one-

-But it is our home!-

-I know it. Do you think I agree with this whole situation? -

-I believe that you are proving too accommodating. It’s so easy, this is not the time to behave like this! They look like two in their twenties! They have no right! They don't have the right to take and throw away a life together! - the boy's voice cracked. - They don't have the right - he muttered, kicking a pebble and hiding the face of his older brother.

Zac was sure Dylan was holding back from bursting into tears. What did he think he was doing? Their parents certainly didn't need to ask their permission to do certain things. And then he too was shuddering, but with confusion. He wanted answers. He hadn't felt so lost in years, or maybe it was only years that he pretended to be fine and that his life was going great. He was so accustomed to goodbyes and change identities and roles in his work, who really did not understand all the rage of his younger brother. But a small part of him hates Dylan. Even in that situation it was up to him to take care of Dylan. Zac have to play the part of the good big brother, tell Dylan that everything would be okay in the end. Zac himself wasn't sure about it , but he knew he had to do it because he would never, ever abandon his family in a moment like that .

-Hey guys! We did not call you to chasing butterflies! - the voice of their father David called both brothers to work - I need a hand here ! - said the man dragging two old bikes along the driveway. Zac tried to make himself feel good. Those were their old bikes. What the hell was his dad doing? Did he want to throw them away? They were old, but certainly not scrap. Why did he have all this sudden urge to get rid of their old stuff?

- Come on, let's go. The sooner we finish packing everything, the sooner we can leave little brother- Zac held out a hand to him and Dylan helped him get up.

-I go inside to mom and you stay with dad , ok? -.

Dylan nodded and walked reluctantly into the garage while Zac entered in the house. Just a few weeks early the hall’s walls were full with��family photos: little Zac and Dylan with their female cousins during their childhood, family holidays in Hawaii and Colorado, David’s photos of his work trips. Now it was all gone.

Zac saw his mother in the kitchen area. She was setting up pot and pans in some sad brown boxes.

-Hey mom, do you need a hand here? -

-Oh yes, thanks honey. You can start bringing these in the car. I don't think your father wants to keep them , they're just old dishes from grandma's good service. They'll have a better spot in my new house-.

Beside Starla were four full boxes with the word "Kitchen" on it. Zac took a breath while Dreamer, the old family dog, was bouncing around, sniffing Zac’s snew brand jeans.

-Hey dude- he scratched his head affectionately -you'll change house soon-.

For nearly ten years that old dog had lived in Arroyo Grande and now… and now he will live in Oregon. If Zac stopped to think about it it was absurd. Even more absurd was to think that even him would never set foot in that house again.

-I will cry every night without him- his mother finally turned to look at him. Starla, despite her sixty-five years, was still an extremely attractive woman : blonde, without even a white hair , with sweet features and two large hazel eyes. Zac, however, could not help but notice that his mother was extremely tense and had two deep dark circles that furrowed her eyes, as if she hadn't slept well for months.

-Mom I'd take it , you know. I already have Puppy and Simon gets along well with dogs, but Dad insisted so much on having him-.

-No honey, it’s okay. Your father wants to do his own thing this time too ... where’s your brother? -

Zac tried to ignore his mother's unhappy comment.

-Dylan is in the garage helping dad, he is a little lost, but he'll soon get over it-

Stare was silence for a moment, she was pale. Then she approached the eldest son and hugged him tightly.

-Thank you honey for coming today. And thanks for dragging Dylan here. I know he's angry , you probably are angry too-.

Probably he was angry. His mother was probably right. Probably Zac should have been angry too. But the reality was that he was not angry, he was in a blind confusion. How was it was even possible that his parents, after two children and thirty years of marriage, had decided to put an end to their marriage? How was it possible that two people who had been madly in love for years now decided to divorce? And without even some drama. Zac had noticed that something was wrong between his parents during the Easter holidays, the last April, but had not given too much attention on it. He was so busy with his new movie and then what couple didn't have some bumps on the road after so many years together? Besides, he and his brother had left home at a young age and her mother had recently lost his father. Perhaps Starla and David were just going through a transition phase. But when the two young Efron brothers showed up home for the Fourth of July holiday , their parents sat them down in the living room, announcing their impending divorce. “ We don't get along anymore” his father had sadly sentenced, visibly embarrassed when his parents, Hal and Dot, both in their eighties, had asked for an explanation cause they were worried. Zac hadn't believed a single word because everything his father had said to justify himself : it just didn't make sense in his head. It just didn't make sense. Because two adults with common sense as her parents had always been don't wake up one morning and decide that they don't love each other anymore, that they feel so indifferent towards each other that they ask for a divorce. They were not an inexperienced young couple with small children, they were two mature people with children already away from home. Starla and David should have enjoyed the serenity that reigned in the Efron house…. and instead they had come to hate each other .

- Mom, can I ask you something? – Zac said.

-Anything you want honey-Starla looked into his son’s eyes..

-Dad was cheating on you? -. he knew he was crossing a fine line between respect for his parents and irreverence, but he wanted honesty from both of his parents.

Starla started to hear those words coming from one of her children. He looked to Zac straight in the eyes.

-Zachary ...-

-I am serious mom. I know it's not a question ... it's not a simple question to answer-

-It is not a question a child should ask to his mother-

-Mom, please. You 've been talking to me about sex and love since I was ten and you and dad have been fucking open with me and Dylan. I just have to understand-

-Love changes Zac. It changes and in some cases it ends - .

The young man gave her a doubtful look: it couldn't be like that, it wasn't enough for him. Love ends for a reason.

- I don't think that's enough. Not after thirty years. Until last year everything was fine, you and dad loved each other. You and dad were fine-

- Your father and I had been in trouble for a long time. We had been in that way for a long time, but we gritted our teeth and always told ourselves that it was worth trying to fix things, but then we reached the breaking point-.

-How much time? -

- A long time - now Starla was slightly annoyed - please Zachary, these are ... these are decisions ... this decision that your father and I made was terribly difficult for both of us . But I want him to be happy and he wants the same thing for me. I know that and you and Dylan do not understand our choice, but I ask only to respect it-.

Zac took a step back. Perhaps he had exaggerated, perhaps he should have given her space.

.Ok- he replied, shrugging - I'm going to put these in your car and I'll be back-.

A moment later Starla found herself squeezed in the arms of her eldest son. Zac's arms encircled her from behind and the boy deposited a light kiss on her head. He had already got rid of the box.

-Sorry mom. Sorry- he whispered - I shouldn't have asked you those things-.

-It's okay- the woman turned to look him in the face and reassure him - I don't expect you and Dylan to approve this… this thing-.

The woman lightly touched the blue coin that peeled from her son's breast : it had been a year since Zac hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. He had done it for his health, but mostly for his family.

-Dad and I know that for you, the last year has been difficult , indeed the last few years . But we are so proud of you honey-.

-Mom ... - the boy blushed. If there was one thing he hated it was receiving compliments when he knew he didn't deserve it. His mother was right, it was a difficult year for him.

- After all, you have been sober for more than a year, not that you were an alcoholic before ... -

-Mom, stop it-

-What's ?-

-Stop! I don't deserve it! -

-What? You started drinking too much, you noticed it in time and went through rehab. You're a good boy and you always take care of your brother. Zac, you deserve these compliments. You are my baby-

-I am not your baby anymore, for many years now- Zac kissed her on the cheek. He was incredibly grateful to her. He was incredibly grateful to both of his parents. -Dyl and I wanted to leave immediately, but I think that we’ll sleeping here and we'll have breakfast together-.

-Do you wanna sleep here? Zac the furniture in your room has already been taken away-

-We will use the sleeping bags in the garage - Zac looked around , full of affection for his childhood home – I wanna sleep here one last time. The kitchen stove still works - his eyes twinkled.

-I will make the waffles that you like so much- said Starla-but you have to share the news you’re your father-

-Mom! -

-Zachary ! -

-You guys have been married for thirty years, and made eachother happy and now you can not share even a breakfast together? -

The woman bit her lower lip. She was thinking.

-If it's fine for your father , then it's ok- she finally said.

The young man hugged her again to thank her. He was sure she knew when that house meant to all of them and wanted to give her a fitting goodbye.

- Are you sure you didn't have anything else to do? You were supposed to go to Ashley's wedding this weekend-

-Ash will understand- zac said firmly - I'm going to tell dad and Dylan that we are stay here tonight-.

Vanessa sighed into the darkness of the room and read over and over again the message that Ashley Tisdale, her best friend, had sent her.

“Nessa, I 'm sorry . Kiss Austin for me. Call me for anything. "

That was Ashley. Vanessa adored her: even days before from her marriage to Chris, her best friend had think to herself for a second.

The girl didn't type a return answer, it wouldn't make sense. It was already three in the morning and she would call Ashley tomorrow so she could talk to her calmly. Austin's soft snore indicated that he had finally fallen asleep. Vanessa touched her boyfriend's blond hair - he looked so peaceful while he was sleeping. Austin seemed to be able to finally rest only when he slept: his mother Lori's condition had worsened further and she had been rushed to hospital. When doctors had informed them that she probably would not past the night, Austin had ended in a selective mutism. He had watched her mother suffer through months of cancer and now he was not saying that all the treatments, the money spent and the hours spent at her side were useless? That all the prayers they had addressed to God had not been heard?

Vanessa was his rock. From the exact moment she arrived the diagnosis she had done the impossible to stay close to her fiance. It had calmed him, comforted him. And so she had done that evening too, cradling him in her arms to make him fall asleep.

She wasn't ready to lose Lori either: she had grown a bond with the woman during those three years she had spent with Austin, she wasn't ready to give up on her. Not when the rest of the world kept spinning, when the rest of the people continued to live as if nothing had happened. Vanessa had always believed that if she behaved well, if she proved to God that she was a good person , then nothing bad could ever happen to her in life. Or at least nothing catastrophic. Thinking back it was a purely childish thought, but until then no event had affected that worldview. Yet in the last year she had had to change her mind. She had discovered that perhaps God did not listen to the prayers of everybody , perhaps God did not exist at all or perhaps he was just an old sadist who played to move his pieces at will on a large chessboard. There was no other possible explanation. God had blessed her with talent, fame and a peaceful family life. Maybe he had given her too much. Sometimes the girl thought she was the cause of Austin's suffering. He was too perfect for her. The Butler family was perfect and now Lori was paying the price for all that God had given to Vanessa. If Austin had known what she really thought he probably would have thought that she was crazy, but there was nothing that Vanessa could do about it.

Promise me that you'll take care of him.

Those were the last words Lori had said to her three days ago . She hadn't said them with the knowledge that they would be the last words she would ever say to her future daughter in law but they were. And now Vanessa feel that she is responsible for Austin's happiness. Lori had been her son's chosen one for years and now she was gone forever. It was up to Vanessa, therefore, to try to make her boyfriend's life as normal as possible.

The girl sighed heavily as she retraced the events of the previous days. It was all still confused. Lori's funeral had only taken place that same afternoon. The memory, however, was blurred in the girl's mind and seemed to belong to centuries ago. Lori had wanted to die in the hospital in Los Angeles, where she had spent the last few weeks of her life. The funeral ceremony therefore took place in Los Angeles, where the woman's body was cremated. If she closed her eyes, Vanessa could clearly see the broken face of Austin's father and sister, she could feel her boyfriend's tight grip during the eulogy. She hadn't cried at the funeral, she hadn't had the strength. She heard Austin move and mutter something in his sleep and so Vanessa’s gaze fall on the alarm clock: three in the morning. She might as well try to sleep for at least a couple of hours. In the morning, Austin's family would take Lori's ashes home to their family home in Anaheim . Austin needs her. He would need all the affection he could get. The girl switch off the cell, laid her head on the pillow and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

#🤍🤍🤍#submission #fanfiction

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thedukedudeinadress · 5 years

Text

Simple Things In Life - 4

Ships: Remile (A Full Blown Relationship), Prinxiety (New Love), Logicality (A Mutual Crush), Demus (Physical Love)

Warnings: Swearing, implied sexual behaviour, talk about sex

Demus - Physical Love: One

———————————————————————

Perspective (mainly): Declan

Declan sat on a bench in a local park where he waited for his boyfriend.

“Hey there, hottie” Remus said, sneaking up behind him & laid his arms around his neck loosely.

“Hey, babe” Declan said & leaned his head back so Remus could kiss him before standing up & turning around to face him.

“Ohh! Hot today, aren’t we?” Remus’s looked at Declan’s, just slightly inappropriate, outfit & Declan scoffed.

“Thought you might like it” Declan said teasingly as he walking around the bench, up to his boyfriend to give him a teasing kiss.

“Hmm, you really shouldn’t tease me like that, we’re still in public” he said & loosely laid his arms around his neck.

“Hm, I guess we could go to my place” he said sensually as he carefully played around with Remus’s hair & a smirk spread over his lips as Remus’s eyes darkened slightly.

“Gladly” he said, ever so slightly excited, & led Declan towards his motorbike.

“So, you want to have a sleepover?” Declan said teasingly as they made their way towards the parking lot & Remus smirked at him.

“Wasn’t that the idea?” His tone was matching with Declan’s.

“Oh, it most certainly was” Declan kissed his boyfriend on the cheek & walked over to the bike to get his helmet & Remus followed him.

“Get on, clingy” he said as soon as he had started the bike & put on his helmet.

“Stop calling me that!” Declan said & put on his helmet.

“But it fits you” Remus said as Declan sat down behind him, chuckled slightly & rolled his eyes. Remus took off & a quick ten minutes later they got to Declan’s place.

“You know you don’t have to hold on that tightly” Remus teased as he parked the bike outside of his boyfriend’s house & Declan rolled his eyes in slight amusement, stood up, took of his helmet & put it in the box at the back of the bike.

“Off with that” Declan said, took off Remus’s helmet, put it in the box, closed it & kissed his neck.

“You really can’t wait, huh?” Remus said teasingly, locked the bike & turned around to give his boyfriend a proper kiss & Declan hummed satisfied.

“Oh, I really can’t” Declan answered in a deeply sensual voice & dragged Remus inside where he immediately pulled him into a heated make out session.

———————

Perspective (mainly): Remus

“Babe, we need to get up. It’s school today” Remus said as he carefully played around with his boyfriend’s hair. Declan only tightened his grip around him & made a protesting sound as he buried his face deeper into his chest & Remus laughed slightly.

“Come on, you little snake” Remus said & kissed his hair before rolling them both over so that Declan layed on top of him.

“I’m just gonna keep on using you as a body pillow, you know” Declan said without moving & Remus made an offended sound.

“So instead of making out with me, you will just use me as a pillow? I’m offended” his voice had quickly gotten from jokingly offended to almost sencual as he pushed Declan off his chest & sat up. Declan sighed deeply & scoffed but sat up as well.

“Hmm.. now that you mention it..” he said, bit his under lip & moved over to Remus’s lap. Remus smirked & Declan grabbed his face & started another make out session.

“What happened to ‘we need to get up’?” Declan said, breathless, during a quick break. Remus just smirked before continuing.

After a few minutes however the two actually got up to get ready.

“Remus! Do you know how hot it is?! I’ll have to wear a polo shirt! Stop giving me hickies on my neck during summer” Declan screamed from the bathroom & Remus laughed.

“You didn’t seem to mind when I made them”

“Fuck off! Like, by all means, go all over my chest but not my neck!” Remus chuckled, entered the bathroom & hugged his boyfriend from behind as he was doing his makeup.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking hot” Declan blushed slightly & shook his head.

“You’re lucky I love you” he said & gave his boyfriend a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, I really am! You’re so amazing & you choose to love me out of all people”

“I really wish I could undo that” Remus made a few offended noises before Declan turned around in his arms & kissed him softly “but I can’t.. & I do love loving you no matter how annoying you get” it was rare to see Remus blush like he did after that.

“I love you so much, you cheesy little snake” Remus kissed his boyfriend firmly before Declan drove him out so he could finish his makeup.

Remus walked into the kitchen & picked up his phone from his pocket & sent a text to his brother.

“Hi Ro when do your classes begin?”

“At 10, why?”

“Wanna meet up with me & Dee before?”

“Yeah sure but can Patton come? He’s a bit nervous”

“Yeah I’ll text Remy about it too. At the cafeteria in twenty minutes?”

“Sounds great”

He quickly sent a text to Remy & got a simple ‘yes’ in reply immediately.

“Dee! Come on! We’re gonna be late!”

“What are you talking about? We have an hour before classes start! I thought the whole idea of waking up early was no stress? That & tricking me into a make out session?”

“Yeah, it was, mainly tricking you into a make out session tho.. but we’re meeting up with the others! We need to leave in five minutes!”

“Ugh! Fine, I’ll be done in five” Declan quickly finished his makeup & got out to the kitchen. “What better way to kick off college than by going to school early to eat breakfast with your boyfriend, his brother & your cousin?” He said ironically.

“Remy will be there too” Remus was well aware that Declan had barely met his best friend all summer so he would probably change his attitude at that.

“...okay! Let’s go!” Declan sounded a lot more enthusiastic & almost dragged Remus out the door.

———————

Perspective (mainly): Declan

“Hello, guys!” Remus said as they walked up to the table “Sorry we’re late, someone took some time doing his makeup”

“Sounds about right” Remy said, fully concentrated on his phone, not even turning around.

“Hey! I’ve seen you two times all summer & you’re ignoring me now?” Declan’s offended voice got Remy to look up.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I’m just kind of worried a-“ Remy started but stopped drastically.

“Worried about what?” Declan said as he & Remus sat down between Roman & Remy.

“Well... uhm.. I’m kind of worried about my boyfriend” Declan’s eyes widened. His best friend had a boyfriend.. & he didn’t know about it?

“O- oh.. you have a boyfriend? Since when?” Remy could hear the mad undertones in Declan’s ‘nice’ voice.

“You don’t know him” Remy knew when to be actually scared of Declan & now was absolutely one of those times so he slid a little further away from him.

“That wasn’t the question, Rem” Remus said teasingly & Remy looked at him annoyed.

“You already know the answer to that question!”

“Wait! You knew?! & you told my boyfriend but not me?!” Declan looked back & fourth at the two of them & Roman laughed slightly which made them all look at him.

“I’m sorry, darling but.. everyone kind of knew”

“Everyone?” Declan looked at Remy with death in his eyes.

“Roman, you’re not helping!” He said before turning towards Declan & sighed deeply. “So, I was kind of worried of how you would take it... so I kind of didn’t tell you”

“Kind of didn’t tell me?”

“Yea I- actually I kind of told you.. when you had headphones on”

“So I wouldn’t hear? I get it.. let me guess! All of you have met him too, right?”

“Actually no. No one have met him, Dec”

“Okay. A question tho... why would you be worried about my reaction?” Declan’s voice was calmer now & Remy breath out.

“Because of the way you reacted when I dated Reneé.. you scared them off, you know”

“I- I just.. asked them some questio-“ Declan’s voice was ever so slightly filled with guilt.

“I appreciate that you’re.. concerned?.. about me, Declan... but you should trust my judgment” he said quite seriously “& you shouldn’t be that surprised that I didn’t tell you” Declan sighed deeply but then he nodded.

“Yeah.. I guess I get it... but now please answer the question, since when?!” Remy laughed slightly.

“Since the beginning of April” he said & took a sip of his coffee.

“Okay. & what’s his name?”

“Emile” Remy’s face lit up as he said his boyfriend’s name & no matter how much Declan still wanted to be mad at him he couldn’t. He couldn’t even help but to smile too.

“Hm, what kind of person is he?” He didn’t think it was possible for Remy to lit up more but he got proved wrong a second later.

“Heh.. he’s the most wonderful person ever! He’s sweet, caring & understanding.. & he’s so cute &- oh I love him so much! Oh my gosh.. I- I love him! I haven’t told him that.. should I? No.. Am I going too fast?”

“Wait! You’ve been dating for four months & you haven’t told him that you love him?” Remus said, slightly confused.

“Four months isn’t that long, Ree” Roman said.

“Yeah.. uhm.. I’ve never been in an actual relationship but it feels like four months isn’t that long..” this was, despite the fact that he had sitten there since the beginning, the first thing Patton said during the whole conversation & everyone looked at him. Patton ignored it & turned towards Remy “I guess you’re just taking the time you need! Tell him when you’re ready” Remy smiled at that.

“Thanks Pat” Remy said & scoffed slightly. “You give some pretty good relationship advice for someone who’ve never been in a serious relationship”

They sat & talked for a few minutes before Virgil walked up to the table.

“Hi guys” he said tiredly, put down his backpack on the bench with a thud before sitting down himself.

“Sup, Virge?” Remy said & grinned.

“I didn’t get much sleep because someone refused to go home yesterday & therefore kept my stupid roommate up which kept me up BECAUSE THEY WERE LOUD!” Virgil was furious & visibility tired & Declan had to really try to keep back the laughter that wanted to escape him.

“Hey, believe me, depression session, I would’ve loved to sleep properly too but I had to help Patton”

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I was nervous..” Virgil sighed deeply.

“It’s fine, whatever just.. drag Roman to your place the next time you plan on staying up until three in the morning” Virgil said, pulled out his sketchbook & a pencil from his backpack & put on the headphones that had been hanging around his neck.

“Aaaand we lost him” Remy said & turned his gaze towards his Roman. “So, how did you two keep him up?” Roman sighed.

“See the dress Patton’s wearing?” He said tiredly & gestured towards Patton with his thumb “The only part done yesterday was the top..” Patton blushed slightly & Declan laughed.

“Ah” Remy said, obviously not actually interested as he had realised something about Declan’s clothes. “Dee, do you know how obvious you are? Nobody without either a cold or a neck full of hickies wear polos in the summer.. & you don’t have a cold” he said & grinned wickedly as his friend quickly turned his head towards him.

“I’m gonna kill you y’know”

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, why don’t you just cover it with makeup?”

“I would love to do that! But it’s summer! I would sweat away the majority of that makeup in an hour. Also, try cover something on the back of your neck, not that easy”

“Okay, b-“

“Okay, I know we’re talking about Dec here but this involves my brother & I’m not interested in hearing about his sex life” Roman said & the others laughed.

“You’re just bitter because you’re single” Remy said teasingly & took a sip from his coffee.

“No- or, yes! That too but like, it’s not hard to find a hookup I just.. don’t want to hear about my brother’s sex life, is that really something weird?”

“No, it’s completely understandable, I just like to point out the fact that you are single” he answered with a teasing tone & smirked.

“That is exactly the reason why I hate you”

“Mmh, yeah I-“ that’s when his phone called, he looked down at it “sorry, I have to take this” he said & answered the phone “Hi babe. Yeah, I know. No, I get it, it’s scary” he took his bag & coffe, stood up, gestured goodbye to the others & left.

“& we lost another one! & we have...” Remus began & looked down at his phone “15 minutes before classes start” Declan hummed thoughtfully.

“Wanna make out on the roof?” He said.

“Yeah, sure, let’s go” he said & stood up. “See you guys later”

“See you!” Roman said after them as they left & then turned towards Patton “Oh my fucking god, why?” He said & Patton laughed.

———————————————————————

A/N: Well well well, finally got this chapter done! As I’m sure you got this is another episode taking place back in time which a lot of episodes do so like... get used to the time going back & fourth lol. Also, I really tried to find a way to translate the picture in my head of Declan’s outfit in the beginning into words but I quickly gave up so yeah... just note that when I said slightly inappropriate I really meant SLIGHTLY!

I TOTALLY forgot about the tag list, lmao. Here it is tho: @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @thatweriddoodlingllama @the-cactus-lord

If you wanna be added to the tag list: COMMENT! Otherwise I’ll SOMEHOW manage to delete the message so just comment if you want to be added, just comment :))

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maekkelae · 4 years

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I used to have a band called Lily Of The West - about the release

Right in the middle of the Weirdo Folk Trinity Medicine Show-Tour with The Black Elephant Band and Ozzmond the whole thing kicked off. The fourth of twelve shows was the end of it. The virus stopped us, stopped the venues, the audiences, the country, the continent. It took a couple of days to realize what it meant in further consequence. The general effects got clear pretty soon though. For us as tour creatures obviously right away, but overall perspectives as performer/songwriter were devastating. No work, no income for at least a couple of months, maybe half a year and this was (and possibly is still) optimistic. The individual troubles made the situation even worse. I had to move house, which seemed to be an easy thing as there was obviously a lot of time at hands now. More than enough to meet my deadline for handing back the keys latest Good Friday. Few days later lockdown was declared for Bavaria which turned it all ultimately into a massive mess. But let's skip the dirty details. April 25th last bits and pieces were moved into a potentially nice place that needed walls painted and floors renewed. Being the lazy person I am I decided to wallpaper the toilet with tour posters and flyers I collected over the past twenty odd years on the road. A nice way to keep them, save money on paint and best of all - one room less to paint. Among quite some other surprising discoveries I found a poster of Lily Of The West. An acoustic three-piece outfit I used to play in back in the early 90s. Strange thing. I mean I totally forgot I was playing in a band that was active for about three (?) years. Maybe four.

Memories slowly came back. Good ones. Not so good ones too, but that's it with bands isn't it? Either way I couldn't get this out of my head. When Uli of Kulturlabbet in Linköping, Sweden contacted me whether I was up for an online/stream 45 minutes concert and interview thing I thought it a good opportunity to play the song the band was named after on this occasion. I never sang the whole song then and like a lot of the things I've done twenty odd years ago I wasn't particularly sure if I even liked it. But I did. And I rehearsed. It turned out an intense love-hate relationship. For some days it sounded just absolutely awesome, then I felt it was the lamest thing one could possibly do. Five verses to play to an audience you do neither see nor hear with an estimated attention span of two minutes max? But few days later it seemed to be ok again. To cut a long story short - it didn't go particularly well once we were live. I mean it was ok, but not necessarily a life-changing experience. That was that.

Nevertheless, I thought it might be fun recording a demo of it. Just for the sake of it. Just to do something different than painting walls or floors, going nuts with unpacking and repacking boxes, getting hysteric with not finding anything or just sitting there watching myself and the outside world go apeshit. At least I had one room ready to live in and space enough to set up things. In less than a week I found the box with the recording gear and so the first night I spent in my new home I recorded the song in my bedroom. And I began to really like it.

Next thing to happen was me losing it. Thought the years of touring solo prepped me to cope with a situation like the current one. They didn't. Not being able to perform, not being able to even plan shows, this big black hole of nothingness started to show some effect. Not nice. That's when my fellow Folk's Worst Nightmare Collective mate The Black Elephant Band came up with the BIG Release DAY plan. "What do you think of this: let's release simultaneously new material on #bandcamp. All of us who are doing solo stuff. Something like the quarantine tapes. Pushing it through the various social media channels. Might get more attention than just one of us. You in?"

I agreed.

The only song apart from a just recorded demo of an old trad folk song I could think of was a rendition of one of my fave Thin White Rope songs I recorded and re-recorded over a very long time and finally given up on. Never really found the energy to do new vocals which was my last concern with it. Seven or eight years ago that was. Now there was one week time to get this sorted.

Of course my computer crashed. Obviously for good as I know now. Of course I couldn't sort the latency trouble with a quickly installed recording software on my laptop. Of course I needed this to be done quickly. Whatever. In a way it worked. It was only when listening to the recording I realized "On The Floe" was also a song in our live set with Lily Of The West. Moreover I remembered reading an interview with Guy Kyser, of Thin White Rope, no clue where, in which he states the song is either about or an incident involving a lake in Sweden. At least that's my recollection of it. So in a way we're back to Kulturlabbet... It just all fell in place, turned full circle. It's a funny feeling watching things like this happen. As if someone or something beyond your control is pulling the strings on a secret master plan.

I owe The Black Elephant Band for his idea. It made me wake up and and start doing things again. Things I love and didn't do for too long. I also owe Frank Mollena for the mastering which turned a ramshackle home recording into a lovely piece of music. Most of all the whole process of getting this ready and releasing it reminded me of the power of music. It can turn a shitty day into a great one, take you from deep down to sky-high. It's just too easy to forget these things if you're running in circles. It’s just so important not to lose yourself in this, as difficult this may be at times.

Hope things will be back to normal very soon. Hope we’ll get the chance to meet again in real life once we survived this. Stay alive. Don’t go crazy.

Listen to the single on Bandcamp

#bandcamp #Mäkkelä #i used to have a band called #lily of the west #americana #folk noir #folk music

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pjstafford · 4 years

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Precious Time

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” A tale of Two Cities Charles Dickens

I have been posting blogs every Thursday as a way to mark the passage of time of each week since I started working remotely and going out only for essential needs. I think many of us our redefining our relationship with time. So I have been thinking of the quote from Charles Dickens from A Tale of Two Cities

The passing of time is a scientific, incontrovertible fact. The sun rises and it sets and there is a day. The moon rises and it sets and there is a night. Winter turns to Spring and then to Summer and then to Fall. When it repeats a year has slipped away. Time is, also, a social construct. We say 9-5 Monday through Friday is a typical work day and there might be some logic to that, but there might be logic to 7-5 four days a week as well. We have Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, but some cultures add a tea or late supper. A midnight shift worker still gets lunch –even though his lunch is at 3 a.m. we don’t call it breakfast in the middle of the work shift. The lunch hour is a social construct of a work life. We mark our seasons and plan our celebrations based on Holidays that cross countries like Easter or Passover and that don’t Thanksgiving or the Fourth of July. Those are societal or cultural norms that we put in place to structure our time.

In this, the Spring of 2020, time has simultaneously sped up and slowed day and our social construct of time means next to nothing at all – even as we are in the midst of what is commonly called “Holy Week.”

I mark the time on Thursdays –

Thursday March 5th was my birthday. A friend and I went to a restaurant for dinner. There were ten deaths in the country from the disease. I worried if my trio to DC in two weeks would be canceled.

Thursday March 12 with the first confirmed case in New Mexico and the governor taking swift action I conversed with my boss about what swift action our agency would take to follow the governor’s lead and then I proceeded out of town to a work related trip that would last the week-end.

Thursday March 19 I woke up with my first day to work remotely and socially distance except for essentials. I wrote my first quarantine blog.

Every Thursday since…

And now its Thursday April 9 and 14, 000 across the country have died.

It’s happened all so fast! And time is so precious. There are steps we can take to reduce the deaths but we started so late. We must today do whatever we can to get more beds, more ventilators, more health care professionals and more tests. Time is scarce and there is an urgent need to get something done!

But that is not my role in this crisis. I am a non-essential employee. My role is to socially distance. And suddenly the social constructs of time looks different. Not just for me but for millions. I hear people talk about the days running together and is it ok to have a beer at 3 in the afternoon when they woke up at 4 a.m. and plan on sleeping soon. For me, I have actual work. I am amazed by how many phone conferencing, time specific duties I have during this time of social distancing. It sets some structure to my days. As I blog last week, I have discovered I have to work at maintaining some structure of a week-end, but I have more time during the week. I do not get up and get dress and commute to work and then commute back. I mean I do get up and dress, but it looks far different. There are hours “saved” there and I eat when I want at home because I am in front of a computer, or listening to a webinar or a press conference and that social construct of lunch time might become a shower, or a walk, or a X-Files break. Do you know how many X-files episodes are about the threat of global contagion? I digress. I digress a lot these days. My first blog was about everything I was going to do with this time, but if King Lear was written during a quarantine, my next novel is likely not to be.

It is, well, the worst of times for sure! It can, also, be the best of times for some of us if we let it. Last Friday was a great day! Well, the New Mexico order for stay at home was extended and the governor announced the numbers the models show might die which were shocking and we found out specifically how many ventilators we were likely to come up short on. And our President! But a nurse friend from New Jersey who had been exposed without proper equipment tested negative and it was a joyous day. I had a social media concert watch party about 5 on a Friday and it was like an actual Thank God its Friday party and that was so special. It was the worst of and the not so bad of a day.

The Dickens quote from a Tale of Two Cities! We are all on the global planet going through the exact same pandemic, but in many ways we are going through it very differently, aren’t we?

There are the tales of the medical professionals, god bless them. My guess is time never feels slowed down for them.

There are the tales of the unexpected heroes of grocery store employees, truck drivers, trash collectors, postal men, all who are not in fact staying at home because they are essential and the work they are doing cannot be done remotely.

There are the tales I know the best of those who are staying at home, but that looks different for different people. I live alone. I like solitude. I enjoy working from home. There are parents trying to continue education for their younger children while working full time jobs. There are twenty somethings who social lives mean more to them. There are persons who routine was to see their elderly parent in the nursing home every Thursday. I guess in some ways they are just different chapters of the same novel.

There are economic inequities. If you are having symptoms simply isolate into the basement or a single floor in your three story house. Or, if you have a single story three bedroom house, the kids may have to share a room when daddy has symptoms. Well, that looks a little different. If you live with your spouse and your two toddlers in a one bedroom or studio apartments, social distancing is not possible. Or if you are homeless and living in a shelter. Or if, or if or if. Decontaminate by immediately washing your clothes- because we all own washer and dryers don’t we?

And if you live in an abusive relationship and you are now alone with the person the entire time. The stressors are worse and….There are moments of hell happening across the global planet in the pandemic. Some has to do with the loss of lives. Some has to do specifically with social distancing.

But I also think that this is actually the reality of everyday life. The pandemic only exasperates existing problems. . While I sympathize and empathize with every single person going through hell, I cannot live it for them anymore than I can for all the homeless I regularly see on the street during normal times. Life and death, also, happen every day. The probabilities are high we will be effected in this time and I am not downplaying it and I don’t want to normalize it, but I do want to say there are some daily life lessons we could remember for when this is over – to love the ones we love, to know that everything can change in a second. The fact of life and death is not created in this time, but we are experiencing it differently now. As we experience the intensity of this time, we should use it to reestablish a relationship with time that is focused on the preciousness of that time.

I am struggling with sleep, worry and fear even if I enjoy the solitude. I cannot put on music and dance. It is a joyous activity and I feel little joy. But is my not dancing causing fewer people to die? Call me Pollyanna but I still am hoping that, for some of us, we can find the best of times in this time.

Most of our life we do not have enough of time . I want to get to a place for myself and I hope others can too where they can experience the time in a peaceful and precious way. I’m not there. I want to be.

I think of a woman I know who bakes everyday with her kids as part of their lessons- great for math and science. She bakes in the afternoon and the bake goods of the day are ready to eat around the 3:30 – 4:00 framework which is the time the kids were used to coming home and having a snack. 20 years from now those kids might think of this time as the time their mother spent teaching them to bake. That doesn’t mean all the other people experiencing hell are not still experiencing hell but not baking with her kids isn’t going to solve the world’s problems right now either. It’s ok to have a project to finish. It’s, also, ok not to and to spend more time enjoying your spouse or your kids or your parents or siblings if you live with them. Watch t.v., play a game, converse.

I feel very much alone in my isolation. I want to believe that those people who have this time with their families are embracing it and embracing them. And so why don’t I write that psychological thriller I’ve been saying I want to work on now for two years? I don’t know. I’m not learning a new language as I started with downtime in January and February. As much as I said in that first blog I had plans, boy, and looking forward to the time….I throw up my hands in the air exasperated at myself. Maybe I needed to process a little what the world was going through and how I felt about my non-essential role. Maybe I needed to give myself permission to feel the pain. Maybe now, I write this blog as a way of giving myself permission to look again at this time as precious- because I do not know when I will have this much of it again, because all time is precious, because tomorrow I might die.

It is the worst of times, ok! It is still precious time. This Saturday night I am participating in a virtual rock concert video watch with some friends. Can’t remember the last time I went out dancing on a Saturday night! Maybe it is ok to put on music and dance. I give myself permission to be joyous. I have the time.

#quarantine

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46ten · 6 years

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AH’s “much-beloved” Matthew Clarkson

One of the themes I return to on this blog are all the people who get left out, from those who were obviously prominently placed in AH’s life through family ties - Philip Schuyler, John B. Church - to those who are at the margins because lack of letters or lack of fame pushed them there. In the second category, one can include near lifelong friends Nicholas Fish and John Laurance, and then a long line of others: Rufus King, Nathaniel Pendleton, Oliver Wolcott, William Bayard (his tearful display suggests more than a passing attachment to a fellow lawyer), John Mason, William Jackson, Timothy Pickering, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, Josiah Odgen Hoffmann, Richard Varick, Richard Harison etc. etc. (I think people sufficiently know McHenry, Laurens, Troup, Stevens, and G. Morris.)

Let’s shine the light on Matthew Clarkson for a moment. Here is how John Church Hamilton describes his father’s death scene:

Meanwhile his numerous agonized friends crowded around the mansion where Hamilton lay, waiting through the sad hours each change in his pallid countenance with breathless apprehension. His elder comrades of the Revolution were there - gray, wondering old men, bowed with years - remembering him a youth in the first hours of his glorious anticipations, in the earliest triumphs of his genius and his valor. The loving, sighing companions of his later years, his grateful clients - the many witnesses of his benevolence were there. They sat under the trees in mourning, silent woe, awaiting the issue, as though some judgment was coming upon the earth.

At [AH’s] bedside were his wife and children - the grieving clergy - his tearful physician - and his much-beloved Clarkson.*

*footnote: General Matthew Clarkson. In the Revolution distinguished for his chivalry. In after life, for his piety and eminent virtues. The Life of Alexander Hamilton, vol 7, p. 835.

Of all the people who could be named by JCH, Clarkson? Why?

Matthew Clarkson (b Oct 1758) was a native New Yorker from a prominent family with long-established ties (See Clarksons of New York, A sketch for a history). His family intermarried with the De Peysters and Van Cortlandts in the first half of the century.

Clarkson volunteered for the Army (or according to the source above, was sent by his father to fight when not yet 17). It’s not clear to me when he and AH first met, but considering that Clarkson was staying with William Livingston on 18July1777 (Gen. Nathanael Greene writes to him there), they may have met as early as 1773. In August 1777, Clarkson was given the rank of major and became an aide-de-camp to Maj. Gen. Benedict Arnold. As Greene wrote to him: “I have the pleasure to acquaint you there is an opportunity now present for you to join the army, I hope to your liking. General Arnold is on his way to the Northern Department, he is in want of an aid-de-camp and I have taken the liberty to recommend you to the General. He is pleased to honor the recommendation and offers you the appointment. You will put yourself in readiness as soon as possible and follow the General to Albany, where you will join his family. Make my compliments to the Governor’s family.” Clarkson was present at the Battle of Saratoga (he’s in the painting as the second to last person on the right; Ebenezer Stevens is the dark haired gentlemen in front of him; Philip Schuyler is a couple of people to the left in brown jacket, non-military dress). He served as Arnold’s aide-de-camp until March 1779, and then became Maj. Gen. Benjamin Lincoln’s aide-de-camp.

Clarkson was taken prisoner upon the capture of Charleston on 12 May 1780, paroled to Pennsylvania, and exchanged that fall. He was present at the surrender of Cornwallis, and in June 1782 requested an extended leave of absence from the army. Clarkson obtained a brevet as lieutenant colonel upon the completion of his military service in late 1783. x

From G. Washington:

Major Matthew Clarkson commenced his military Services as a Volunteer early in the present War. In the Year 1777 he received a Majority in the Army of the United States, and was present at the Surrender of Lieut. General Burgoyne at Saratoga, having been active in all the principal antecedent Engagements, which produced that Event—In the Year 1779 was appointed Aide de Camp to Major General Lincoln (now Secretary at War) then commanding Officer in the Southern Department, & in that Character served at the Siege of Savannah. In 1780 he acted as Major of a Corps of Light Infantry during the Siege of Charles-Town. In 1782 He returned to his former Situation as Aide de Camp to Major General Lincoln, and was present at the Reduction of the British Posts of York and Gloucester under the Command of Lieut. General Earl Cornwallis. Soon after this, when Major General Lincoln became Secretary at War, he was appointed his Assistant. In all which Stations, from my own Knowledge and the Reports of the General Officer under whose immediate Orders he has served, I am authorised to declare that He has acquitted himself with great Honour. Given under my Hand And Seal at the Head-Quarters of the American Army the twenty-fourth Day of June in the Year 1782.

Clarkson then worked as a merchant, but mostly did what wealthy and prominent men (”the rich and well-born”) did back then: held a series of prestigious positions, elected and otherwise. I’m just going to copy Wikipedia:

As a Regent of the University of the State of New York he was presented at the court of French King Louis XVI. He served as a Federalist member of the 13th New York State Legislature in the New York State Assembly for one term from 1789 to 1790, where he introduced a bill for the gradual abolition of slavery in the state. From 1791 to 1792, he served as U.S. Marshal. In 1793, he was elected to fill the vacancy, in place of Philip Van Cortlandt, as State Senator in the 17th New York State Legislature representing the Southern District, which consisted of Kings, New York, Queens, Richmond, Suffolk and Westchester counties. He served until 1795 after being reelected to the 18th Legislature, and resigning before he completed his full four year term.He was also a member of the commission to build a new prison 1796-1797 and President of the New York (City) Hospital (1799). In 1802, Clarkson was the Federalist candidate for U.S. Senator from New York but was defeated by DeWitt Clinton. He became President of the Bank of New York in 1804.

In February 1795, Clarkson was appointed commissioner of loans for New York. (See H to George Washington, January 14, 1795). He resigned this position in September 1801.

On May 21, 1796, Washington nominated Clarkson as the United States commissioner under Article 21 of the treaty signed at San Lorenzo el Real (Pinckney’s Treaty) on October 27, 1795, between the United States and Spain, and on May 24, 1796, the Senate confirmed the appointment.

In 1798 Clarkson became a director of the New York branch of the Bank of the United States. He was also on the committee of the Society for Establishing Useful Manufactures.

Clarkson’s first wife was the niece of William Alexander, Lord Stirling. His daughter with her married her cousin, the oldest son of John Jay and Sarah Livingston. (Clarkson first married in 1785, which again fits my pet theory that these men generally did not marry until their military service was complete - AH was the outlier among his friends in doing so.) After Mary Rutherfurd’s death in 1786, he married Sally Cornell in 1792. She died in 1803. Clarkson had eight children total; he didn’t name any of them Alexander, though he did name one William Bayard. Matthew Clarkson died in 1825.

So what was the relationship between Clarkson and AH like? He’s one of those we don’t get many letters to/from in part because they’re all usually living in NYC. From Founders, we only have two letters, both professional, from AH to Clarkson. There’s only one letter from Clarkson to AH:

Dear Sir, I have reflected maturely on our conversation of yesterday. The result is, as far as I can with propriety I decline, at present, any military appointment. The duty I owe my Family seems to demand this of me, nor can I believe I give too great weight to this consideration when I consider the very small probability there is of any serious military operations taking place in this Country and the real injury I should sustain by being called from my present pursuits. These however are my reflections, if they are wrong, counsel me otherways, at any rate believe me with the greatest Regard and Esteem Dear Sir Yours very sincerely. 20August1798, Clarkson to AH, Here’s a digital copy of the letter.

In preparing for his duel with Burr, while AH gave Church power of attorney, he named Church, John Laurance, and Clarkson as trustees for his property (except his books of Divinity). Founders notes that on April 11, 1805, Church, Laurance, and Clarkson purchased the remaining land, an additional 17 acres, that comprised the Grange property.

Clarkson was one of the pallbearers at AH’s funeral, alongside Oliver Wolcott, Richard Harrison, Josiah Ogden Hoffman, Richard Varick, William Bayard, and Laurance.

From the Hamilton side, the strongest statements of the friendship between AH and Clarkson come from JCH and EH, oddly enough. She wrote to Clarkson:

“...As you have always been the friend of my dear husband, I now pray you may be the friend of his Son [Alexander Jr.]....could you permit him sometimes to accompany you in your walks, that he might hear from you thou just sometimes of Religion as well as thou on Other subjects that have always marked your character. ” 17Sept1804, EH to Clarkson; credit: runawayforthesummer

And 25 years later:

I introduce to your kindness and civilities the sons in law of your respected Friend General Clarkson [a] particular friend of my Hamilton.” 10Apr1830, EH to Marquis de Lafayette, credit: runawayforthesummer

I have not searched for Clarkson’s letters to others to see if more can be ascertained there. I’ll continue to wonder why JCH specifically noted Clarkson’s presence, and what he meant to the Hamilton family. Here’s a pic of the Stuart painting of Clarkson from 1794; he’s wearing his Society of the Cincinnati badge. (Looks like Trumbull based his figure of Clarkson on this one.)

#Matthew Clarkson #Alexander Hamilton #Elizabeth Hamilton #John Church Hamilton #friends #I have a theory that he was EH's much-beloved special friend #following AH's death #and that's why JCH remembers him so prominently #I'm joking - not really but that would have been 15 kids between the two of them

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thysparrowsdrew · 3 years

Text

full draft of chapter 3! (albeit in need of major line edits)

In a room at the nearest Motel Six, freshly-painted warding sigils drying on the walls, Margarita sits on one of the two beds and bows her head in prayer. “Holy Ishim the Angel, Holy Kadmiel the Angel, Holy Jehoel the Angel, hear this prayer. Benjamin and Castiel need to speak with you about a danger to the flight. Starting frequency is 428.934KHz; hopping algorithm is Roadhouse three-point-one; seed is five-nine-gimel-zayin. Amen.”

Even for practiced angels, frequency hopping requires concentration: In the back of her mind, Benjamin goes quiet with focus, and Castiel, seated at the room’s table with Sam and Dean, stares unblinking into the middle distance. (The table’s fourth chair sits empty.)

“Did she say Roadhouse?” Dean asks Castiel, his voice suddenly hoarse.

Castiel doesn’t acknowledge the question.

“He can’t really hear you right now,” says Margarita. “Neither can Benjamin. We humans are alone for a little while.” She remembers the twenty-first book of the Winchester Gospels, and she offers a gentle, sympathetic smile. “Yes, I did say Roadhouse. Angel radio, as you call it, wasn’t built for privacy. Your friend Ash Miles invented the first frequency hopping algorithms-- a way for Raphael’s enemies to speak without him listening.” Of course, Raphael’s army adopted use of their own algorithms not long after his opponents-- but it was a war of unequal strength, and secrecy advantaged the weak more than the strong.

Sam blinks in surprise. “I never knew he was involved in that.”

“Oh, he was more than involved. He was a key part of the war effort. Without his help, we’d have lost in the first month.”

“So you were one of Cas’s soldiers?”

Margarita’s expression shutters. “Vessels aren’t soldiers. We’re wielded by them.”

“Now that’s some bullcrap,” says Dean. “It’s your body on the line, ain’t it? If you’re in the war, you’re in the war.”

Margarita’s breath catches. She reminds herself that this is Dean Winchester she’s speaking to; she can’t be surprised he blindly stumbled into a minefield and detonated half the charges. “Dean, I know you mean well, but you really don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I was the freaking Michael Sword; I think I--”

“You don’t understand what you’re saying,” Margarita repeats, in a tone that brooks no argument. Castiel was Benjamin’s general, not hers. Benjamin’s friend, not hers. Benjamin’s betrayer, not hers. Soldiers bled and died under Castiel’s banner of free will, and in victory, he spat on all of them: I thought the answer was free will, but I understand now. You need a firm hand.

After Castiel proclaimed a new day on Earth and in Heaven, Benjamin returned to Margarita in a panic, his thoughts nothing but bone-deep terror and a clamor of need to hide need to hide. For three days, he was unable to speak. All he could do was show fragments of memories: the killing fields, the blackened grass, the speech. Benjamin remembers the speech as it happened, but Margarita remembers it like a broken phonograph, jumbled and skipping and repeating. Every word is seared into her.

She wasn’t Castiel’s soldier. She can’t have been.

And the part she hates most of all: She’s right. Vessels bled alongside soldiers, died alongside soldiers, but soldiers were soldiers, and vessels were vessels. She went into every battle knowing a simple fact: If she died at the hands of the enemy, only one name would be spoken of, and the name would not be hers.

After a minute of no one speaking, Dean tries to crack the tension. “You do a great scary nun voice,” he says. “You ever teach at a Catholic school?”

Sam smacks his brother’s arm.

Another minute, and Benjamin and Castiel break from the trance. /Ishim is alive,/ Benjamin tells her, while Castiel relays the same information out loud to the Winchesters. /He’ll meet us here in four hours. Jehoel was killed this April, Kadmiel last September./

Two years ago, unable to stomach any more news of his siblings using their vessels to murder each other, Benjamin started blocking every frequency except Heaven’s emergency frequency and the flight’s distress signal frequency. It doesn’t surprise Margarita that this is the first they’ve heard about the deaths, but-- /April was six months ago. Why didn’t Castiel already know?/

/He asked Ishim that same question. Ishim said he thought Castiel wouldn’t care./

/Wouldn’t care? That’s what Ishim came up with?/

/I know. Ishim managed to find the one thing in the universe Castiel is innocent of./

/It’s a miracle. You could write crimes on a dartboard and throw with your eyes closed, and nine times out of ten, you’d hit a true accusation. But Ishim went with wouldn’t care./

Margarita tunes back into the Winchesters’ conversation. “--Jehoel,” Sam is saying. “Do we give their vessels a call?”

“Benjamin and I don’t know their names,” says Margarita. “All we know is that they both took new vessels after the Fall. Castiel?”

“I don’t either.”

“Did Ishim say where they were killed?” asks Sam. “The police reports might have the vessels’ names.”

“Kadmiel was in Porto Alegre,” answers Castiel. “Jehoel was in London.”

Sam pulls a laptop from his bag. “We’ll start with Jehoel.” He sets the laptop on the table -- at an angle where Margarita can see the screen, if she leans to the left -- and gets to work. In just a handful of minutes, he has full access to Scotland Yard’s databases. Margarita wonders if this is a new skill, or if the prophet Chuck Shurley neglected to mention it. Sam types, pauses, types again, and announces, “I got three homicide cases from April where the police report mentions wings.”

“How do we know which one is Jehoel?” asks Dean.

“You won’t,” says Castiel, “but I can identify her from her wings.”

“Like fingerprints?” asks Sam.

“Like a nametag.”

Sam pulls up a picture from the crime scene. “Is this her?”

Margarita leans to the left. She doesn’t recognize the vessel -- a stocky white man, middle-aged, light-haired -- but Benjamin can read the wings. /Gamliel,/ he says.

“No,” says Castiel. “That’s-- This doesn't make sense. Those are Gamliel’s wings, but he died in Sirjan eight years ago, trying to save the forty-sixth seal.”

“He survived,” says Margarita. “We saw him three years ago.”

Gamliel was a widely-respected commander known for his exceptional dedication to his troops. For a moment, Castiel looks like he might argue against the idea that Gamliel could be a deserter, but then he turns to Sam and says, in a rougher voice than before, “The next one.”

“Wait,” says Margarita. “What was his name? The vessel.”

“Do you think he’s part of this?” asks Sam.

“No, but his name should be spoken. He’s owed that.”

“This says it was, uh, Blake Harris.”

“Thank you.”

In the year after the Fall, Margarita and Benjamin spent hours every day searching the Internet for new vessel killings. Benjamin said that he needed to see them, needed to know that at least one angel would remember the human toll. He says the same thing now that he used to say after each news article: /I will remember him./

Sam loads a picture of the next case’s crime scene. “Jehoel,” Castiel says, at the same time Benjamin says, /That’s her./

“Says her name was Abigail Dupont,” Sam reads.

“Here’s hoping she has some answers,” says Dean.

Again, they prepare the spell; again, Castiel gives his blood before Benjamin can offer; again, Castiel speaks the incantation. “Hello, Abigail,” he says to the bubbling bowl.

“Hey, Mysterious Voice From The Ceiling. I don’t think you’ve been in this dream before. This was a fucking awesome concert, and they’re gonna do Misery Business soon, so if this is about to turn into a nightmare, can you just wait a little? Like ten minutes? I really love that song.”

“You aren’t dreaming.”

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure I am.”

“Do you remember what happened on the night of April third?”

“What are you, a cop?”

“I’m an angel.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry, dude, but I already said the big Y-E-S to somebody else, and I don’t wanna kick off some game of angelic musical chairs by switching. You’re gonna have to keep looking. Uh, I guess you can stick around for the rest of the concert, though, if you want? I bet listening to hymns all the time gets pretty boring.”

“I’m not interested in taking you as a vessel. Even if I were, you wouldn’t be able to serve as one in your current state.”

“Jesus Christ. Whoever taught you guys reverse psychology needs to be shot. My current state? Is that supposed to make me want to prove you wrong? Oh no, Mr. Random Holy Jackass says I’m not good enough, how will I--”

“Your current state is dead, Abigail.”

A long silence, and then, “Fuck.”

“My condolences.”

“Yeah, well, eternal Paramore concert. Can’t complain too much, I guess. What’s your name, Mystery Angel?”

“Castiel.”

“Double fuck. Is this an end-of-the-world thing?”

“No.”

“It’s just, from what I’ve heard, when you’re involved, it’s usually an end-of-the-world thing. Or it turns into an end-of-the-world thing.”

“It isn’t an ‘end-of-the-world thing’. I’m trying to find the angel who killed you and Jehoel.”

“You mean psycho eyepatch lady? Jehoel said she wasn’t an angel.”

“She wasn’t? What was she?”

“A human. That’s what Jehoel said, anyway.”

Castiel draws a sharp breath. “How did a human kill Jehoel?”

“Oh, it was super freaky. It was like eyepatch lady was carrying angel kryptonite. Jehoel tried to throw eyepatch lady back with her mind -- it’s super cool that angels can do that, by the way? -- but anyway, this time, it did jack shit. Eyepatch lady didn’t budge. She was all, ‘Your little angel tricks won’t work on me, Jehoel.’ And then we got stabbed. Y’know, I always thought if I got stabbed, it’d be from mouthing off to the wrong person? That’s what my brother used to say. But it was just ‘cause somebody wanted to murder the angel living in my head.

“Hurt like a bitch when it happened. It was funny, some dude tried to stop her, and eyepatch lady was all, ‘I don’t want to hurt humans.’ Guess I didn’t count, huh?”

“You did count,” says Benjamin, firmly. “You were still human. What was done to you was wrong.”

“Oh, hey, Mystery Angel Number Two. I like the way you think. What’s your name? Any other angels on the line, or is it just you two?”

“My name is Benjamin. Castiel and I are the only angels here.”

“Cool. Anything else you wanna know?”

“Can you describe her?” asks Castiel.

“White, thin, long red hair. Uh... Five foot six. Early forties, maybe? The eyepatch was black. Over her right eye. Right when you’re looking at her, not her right.”

“When she attacked you, did she use any incantations?”

“Nope. Not one. I asked Jehoel if she was a witch, and Jehoel said she wasn’t.”

“Did she have any inhuman abilities other than immunity to Enochian magic?”

“If she did, she didn’t use ‘em on us. Oh, wait! Shit. I remember now. She has a husband. I guess he’s a demon or something? Jehoel called eyepatch lady ‘Akobel’s human wife.’”

Castiel and Benjamin both straighten in alarm. “You’re certain Jehoel said Akobel?” asks Castiel.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”

“And the woman,” says Benjamin. “You’re certain she had red hair?”

“I mean, not red red. Not like a firetruck. Natural red, like, uh, what’s her-- Amy Adams. Is that helpful?”

Akobel’s red-haired human wife. Margarita saw Lily Sunder only once: standing with Akobel on the porch of their home in Orono, Maine, looking down with fear at the flight of angels on her doorstep. Go back inside, Akobel had told her, as though human-built walls could delay Heaven’s justice. /Ishim’s report of her death seems to have been greatly exaggerated,/ says Benjamin, with little humor. Out loud, he says, “Very much so.”

“Thank you for your help, Abigail,” says Castiel.

“No problem. Hey, when you find the psycho, kick her ass for me, okay?”

The blood stops bubbling.

“Who’s Akobel?” asks Sam. “The way you two reacted, it seemed like you know him.”

Castiel doesn’t answer. Inside Margarita’s head, Benjamin is similarly silent.

“Uh, guys?”

“They’re talking to Ishim,” says Margarita. “They want to know how Lily Sunder is alive when Ishim killed her over a century ago.”

“That’s the woman’s name? Lily Sunder?”

Margarita nods, mentally thumbing through the metaphorical pages of the mission briefing. To most angels, especially before the Fall, vessels were simply weapons to be wielded. Sharing mission details with one was like talking to your blade: not forbidden, exactly, but odd and likely indicative of a deeper problem. Benjamin was different. Before each mission, he always shared the briefing in full, and he always offered a choice.

“Lily Sunder was a professor of apocalyptic literature who learned how to summon angels,” says Margarita. “She summoned Akobel, married him, and knowingly birthed a nephilim. Akobel successfully concealed his crime for five years. After Heaven became aware, the flight was sent to kill the nephilim and render justice unto its parents. Mirabel executed Akobel, with--” she falters, remembering her hand’s inhumanly strong grip on Ephram Sunder’s arm, only letting go when his body went limp “-- with Benjamin and Castiel’s assistance. Ishim executed, or claimed to execute, Lily and the nephilim.”

“He took mercy on Lily,” says Castiel, rejoining the conversation. “Only Lily.”

/Mercy on a human?/ asks Margarita. /That doesn’t sound like the Ishim we knew./

/He believed Akobel corrupted her into mothering the nephilim. After recent events, he now believes the opposite./

“Cas,” says Sam, “you guys, uh...”

Dean’s eyes are hard. “You killed a five-year-old, and now the mom’s gunning for revenge. Can’t say I blame her.”

“We completed a mission,” says Castiel.

“Some mission.”

“When nephilim come into their power, entire worlds die. It was horrific, but it was necessary. It was right.”

“Well, if you say so.”

“Wait,” says Sam. “Sister Margarita, you said a century ago? Even if Ishim let her live back then, how is she alive now?”

“Rowena’s older than that,” says Dean.

“Rowena’s a witch. Lily’s human.”

“Ishim believes she made a pact with a demon,” says Castiel. “A deal to grant her youth and immunity from our powers.”

/Castiel would know about working with demons, wouldn’t he,/ says Benjamin, unable not to.

“What, like a crossroads deal?” asks Dean. “That’s a hell of a long time for a demon to wait to collect.”

“Yeah,” says Sam. “And Lily’s waited a long time, too. This all happened a century ago, right? But the first death was in 2015. Why not sooner?”

The answer is obvious. Benjamin tries not to make it sound like an accusation: he keeps his tone neutral and his eyes on Sam as he says, “Our wings.” Before Castiel can respond, he continues briskly, “Akobel’s vessel, Ephram Sunder, might know something about this demon pact. We should speak to him.”

Dean looks skeptical. “You think he’ll want to help us stop his wife from getting revenge for their kid?”

“The spawn was Akobel’s, not Ephram’s. To knowingly sire a nephilim is one of the few crimes against Heaven that outweighs serving as a vessel. Ephram’s soul ascended after Akobel’s execution. Had he consented to the union, his soul would have gone elsewhere.”

Dean and Sam blanch at the implications. “Shit,” says Dean. “So for six years, this guy was...”

“And Lily was aware of her husband’s true nature throughout their marriage. Do you still doubt Ephram will want to help us?”

Sam shakes his head.

For the third time, they prepare the spell: glyphs, blood, holy oil, sage, myrrh. Benjamin speaks the incantation.

Nothing happens.

They wait.

Nothing continues to happen.

“Maybe you got the wrong name?” asks Sam.

Castiel shakes his head. “That was the name we received in our briefing.”

“Well, maybe they got the wrong name.”

“I doubt it,” says Benjamin. “The ancien régime made many mistakes, but not this type of mistake.”

Knowing what he needs to do next, Margarita says, /It’s okay. I’ll be fine./

/I hate it, but it’s our best option here. If we were closer to the portal--/

/You would take me with you. I know. But you’re right; with the cards we have, this is the best play we can make. You’ll be safe from Lily there, and I’ll be safer here./

“You think someone’s trying to keep Ephram from talking?” asks Sam.

“I think something is very wrong here,” says Benjamin. “Ishim and I will investigate in Heaven. We’ll leave the Earthly investigation to you.”

“Hold on,” says Dean. “You’re just gonna run off to Heaven and leave Cas here?”

“My presence on this plane makes Margarita a target, and until we know how to counteract Lily’s powers, I’m unable to defend her. I will not allow her to come to harm because of me.”

“I understand,” says Castiel, with a glance at Dean.

“Maybe she doesn’t want you to leave,” says Dean, not really speaking to Benjamin. “Maybe she wants you to stick around even though it’s dangerous. Did you think about that?”

/Oh, for God’s sake,/ says Margarita.

/Oh, for Father’s sake,/ says Benjamin. “Margarita agrees with me that this is our best course of action. We discussed it using these fascinating little things called ‘words.’ They’re a new invention; you might not have heard of them.”

Dean opens his mouth, then closes it with an audible click. Castiel shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Sam’s expression is a long-suffering plea: See what I have to deal with?

Warmth floods Margarita’s veins as Benjamin fills them with enough extra grace to heal nearly any injury. /One Phoenix Down./

/I’ll try not to get impaled by any one-winged angels while you’re gone./

The joke falls flatter than the Tower of Babel. /Please. Please, stay safe. If anything happened to you because of this, I... I couldn’t.../

/I’ll be safe. Go. Te esperaré./

/Volveré a ti./ Benjamin tilts back her head, pours out of her open mouth in a radiant cloud of shimmering blue-white, and disappears into a vent.

#prayer of the possessed tag

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thefinalcinderella · 6 years

Text

DIVE!! Book 4 Chapter 3-DEAREST BROTHER

Was debating whether or not to keep Miu speaking in third person, but it’s just one of those things that sound weird in English, so...

Full list of translations here

Previously on DIVE!!: We briefly look back on how Tomoki has changed over the course of the series.

“Yay, Tomo-kun got first place!”

Miu’s cheer revived his consciousness with a start, as he pushed his eyelids up with difficulty. Like taking off layers of clothing, the drowsiness coiled around him was torn away little by little. The ranking table on the electric scoreboard appeared blurrily in his sight, and Hiroya, feeling like he’d been tricked, thought, it’s still the end of the second round…? He felt a slight dizziness.

“Eh, Hiro, were you actually sleeping? No way, I can’t believe you.”

“It’s because I stayed up all night making a new song. Even today I really had to go to band practice, but I had to turn it down, get up early, take the train, and I just think that it’s great that we finally got here, really.”

“That’s not right. Since Tomo-kun specially said that it’s okay to come and cheer him on. Hiro, which is more important, Tomo-kun or the band?”

“No, it’s of course…”

Hiroya wrapped his arm around Miu’s shoulders and smiled, rescuing the situation by buttering her up. His girlfriend had suddenly wanted to know the order of “which is more important?”. He’ll probably struggle for the rest of his life trying to explain these incomparable things.

To begin with, Hiroya had too many important things.

The rock band he formed this summer. The school’s soccer club that sometimes asked him for help. His class friends who he hung out with. And, Miu. For a time, he still hadn’t lost interest in the fishing hobby that he was engrossed in, and when he spotted a fly with an unusual shape, he immediately bought it.

Ever since he was little, he changed his objects of interest frequently. Because he tried to cherish all of them, he sometimes exploded and lost his temper. He wasn’t good at keeping still in one place.

So for Hiroya, spectating diving competitions where twelve people go for ten rounds, and therefore having to focus on watching a hundred-and-twenty dives, was naturally like an endurance match in hell.

In fact, this was only the second time that he was spectating.

The first time was during the summer of fourth grade. He was taken along by their mother, Megumi, to go support Tomoki at his first junior competition, and he arrived at the Tatsumi Swimming Center half-interested.

His unforgettable first impression was, it’s so boring. Because there were only elementary school students in the competition, there were no impressive techniques. They got on the three-meter springboard one by one, and simply dropped into the water with a splash. When Tomoki’s turn finally came and he shouted, “Let’s go, Tomo!”, Megumi told him that he was being distracting. What, they came all the way here to cheer him on, but they could only watch?

He was soon assailed by sleepiness. The swaying springboard, and the rippling diving pool beneath it. That listless smell, like being in class after the pool on a hot day, Now, go to sleep. To your heart’s content. He could only believe that someone was whispering that close to his ear.

When Hiroya, who gave in to his drowsiness, suddenly woke up, shockingly, it seemed that Tomoki and the others were still continuing to do the same things in the pool.

“Hey, can’t we go home yet?”

Hiroya cried to Megumi.

“Not yet. We have to watch until the end.”

“When will it end?”

“Everyone still has to dive six more times each.”

Six more times! Tomo and the others have to repeat that thing six more times? For what reason!? If we go home I can get tasty ice cream. Oh, I wonder if we can go home early.

“Hey, how many rounds before it’s over?”

“Four more.”

Four more rounds. He wanted to go home as soon as possible and play with Tomo. He wanted to teach him new wrestling moves, and tell him funny stories about class.

How long will Tomo be in such a place?

“Hey hey, how many rounds left?”

“Two more.”

Ah, I hope Tomo comes home soon.

“Hiro!”

Miu pinched his cheeks, and he pushed his eyelids up again.

“Hiro, how can you sleep at such an important time? Just now, the person with the camel-colored swim trunks dived, and got four 9 points, so it’s going to be Tomo-kun’s turn soon.”

“I know, I know, sorry.”

Though he wrapped his arm around Miu’s shoulder as a conditioned reflex, within Hiroya the fourth-grade him and the impatience of that afternoon still remained markedly.

Yes, that summer. More than the dodgeball I was obsessed about during that time, more than drinking milk in the morning, more than playing at pro wrestling with my friends, I liked being with Tomo the most.

His carefree big brother. He always patiently went along with Hiroya, whose mood changed frequently. His first friend from ever since he could remember. Megumi was sometimes too overwhelmed and fussy at home about the fact that they were in the same grade, the two of them being born in April and March, but Hiroya had never held a sense of inferiority. He was just happy being with Tomoki for everything. They were together at their entrance ceremony. They were together on trips. They were together at athletic meets and dances. Even if Hiroya fell behind everyone else Tomoki was waiting for him, so he was always at ease. Because Tomoki was there, he could go wherever his curiosity took him, and take detours until he felt satisfied.

But, before he realized it, Tomoki was about to fly far away, compared to him, who was only scampering around nearby.

“Hey, it’s almost Tomo-kun’s turn,”

Miu poked at the ground restlessly with her heels.

“I don’t really understand diving well, but today’s Tomo-kun is somewhat amazing. I feel like he’ll win and go to the Olympics as he is now. It’s not just a hunch, but actually yesterday…I’m only tell you this, Hiro, but I had that dream. What kind of dream did you have?”

“A dream where I was eating dried young sardines.”

Miu pretended she didn’t hear that.

“But, if Tomo-kun really went to the Olympics, I’d feel a little bit lonely. If he becomes a celebrity and forgets about us, what would we do?”

“It’ll be fine. Even if he forgets us in Sydney, he’ll remember when he comes back to Japan. I, for one, am his little brother.”

“And me?”

“He couldn’t forget you even if he wanted to, in more ways than one.”

“Ugh, that thing immediately…”

Miu tapped him on the head, and Hiroya smiled wryly.

Originally, Hiroya had stolen Miu, who had been Tomoki’s girlfriend, during this year’s rainy season, which was something still new in the brothers’ history. As expected, Tomoki had been furious at that time, not saying a word for three weeks. However, in the fourth week his attitude had softened, only communicating with him in writing, and he further compromised in the fifth week, only saying a few words. In the sixth week he came to watch TV with him side by side, and in the seventh week they went to buy stuff together at the convenience store. Nowadays they were completely back to normal.

And then, a few days ago. The day before Tomoki went to Osaka, he himself informed him that “the competition’s far, but if you want to come with Miu, then come.”

Even though he had band practice, even though he had no sleep, even though the train fare was too expensive, even though the diving competition was murderously boring, there was no reason not to rush here to cheer him on!

“Ah…it’s Tomo-kun!”

It was Tomoki’s turn again. Seeing that small shadow on the distant platform, Miu’s shoulders shook.

“I can’t take it anymore, it feels I’m getting anemia with the blood rushing to my head. Every time Tomo-kun dived, I felt like I was going to faint, throw up, and about to die.”

“It’s okay. People can’t die from just anemia.”

“Why are you so calm, Hiro? Aren’t you nervous?”

“Yeah, not really.”

“Why? Aren’t you supporting Tomo-kun?”

“Dummy, that’s not it.”

Of course he supported him. If Tomoki won and went to the Olympics, he himself might be the one who was so ecstatic that he’d get anemia. But…

Even if he loses, I won’t be disappointed, Hiroya decided in his mind. Even if everyone here is disappointed, I will be the only one who absolutely wouldn’t be.

So that Tomo can come home with his heart at ease—.

Tomoki placed his hands on the platform and slowly lifted his feet.

They were watching the most thrilling of dives, the armstand dive.

How terrifying it must be, to do handstands in such a high place.

How much courage he had, in order to throw out his body.

If he failed, how painful it would be.

“Oh, it’s no good, I’ll faint before it ends. Hey, how many rounds does Tomo-kun have left?”

“Eight more.”

At the same time Hiroya murmured that, Tomoki released his body into the air.

“No…seven more.”

Ah, I hope that Tomo comes home soon.

Rankings as of the Third Round (Cumulative)

① Yamada Atsuhiko (149.04 points)

② Sakai Tomoki (146.31 points)

③ Okitsu Shibuki (144.66 points)

④ Kaburagi Shinji (133.29 points)

⑤ Asama Takashi (132.87 points)

⑥ Nakayama Masahiko (127.59 points)

⑦ Ogawa Shinobu (127.53 points)

⑧ Matsuno Kiyotaka (127.35 points)

⑨ Moriya Kazuteru (124.68 points)

⑩ Maruyama Reiji (124.44 points)

⑪ Tsuji Toshihiko (115.89 points)

⑫ Fujitani Youichi (108.87 points)

Next time on DIVE!!: Reiji finally gets the spotlight!

#DIVE!!#dive novel translation

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dansnaturepictures · 3 years

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23/04/2021-Dancing Ledge (Ten different photos to those I tweeted tonight)

We did our final planned trip of the week days of in this patch of leave. Our annual Purbeck coast pilgrimage to Durlston near Swanage in April to see seabirds particularly, breathtaking views and anything else often flowers as was the case today. I wrote about our time at Durlston today in my next post, as this year we did something slightly different and before going to Durlston went to the National Trust’s Spyway car park and walked down to the beautiful Dancing Ledge. We had been here three times before, walking from Durlston in both 2007 and 2009 getting an exciting glimpse of our first ever Puffin on the former a key day for our birdwatching and wildlife life and love of seabirds especially early on and we came in 2013 too after a Durlston trip one Saturday. So this was a very exciting day.

We walked along the well laid path from the car park down to Dancing Ledge the beautiful area shown in the first picture I took today in this photoset, where Swallows skimmed over the grass and Skylarks performed overhead. Very soon into the walk we achieved a goal of the day when I heard and spotted a bird in a bush, it had the exquisite bright brown back which glowed in the sun, spendid grey head and of course creamy throat of the Whitethroat. A key spring bird target of ours and one I have had such a good record for seeing in the Durlston area on the trip the past few years so with Guillemot, Razorbill, Fulmar, Gannet and though we didn’t see them today Wheatear and House Martin other common year ticks on this trip already seen by me this year, really Whitethroat was the key year list target today and it did not disappoint, we saw one coming up the hill on the way back too and saw some at Durlston later in the day. It was wonderful to see this beautiful bird back in the UK. My year list now stands at 145, only my 2018 and 2019 year list my highest ever totals was higher at this point in a year, and I didn’t reach this figure until May last year, which is another stunning moment to show how my revival of my year list after full lockdown has been so spectacular. I have so far got fourteen year ticks during my week off which I am over the moon with and that makes it twenty six year ticks this April, leveling my highest ever amount of them I got this month in 2014 which was phenomenal and something I found so amazing with some really high calibre species seen along the way and it’s really something I am so proud of.

In order to get to Dancing Ledge from these fields full of life, including Blackbirds with young too, we had to go down a massive and steep hill. From here, before and when we reached this striking coastal feature we took in some simply breathtaking and sensational views especially seeing right down the coast my very favourite type of coastline and type of habitat really. In pristine, brightly sunny, pretty warm and sparkly blue conditions it just looked so purely beautiful and I took the second and third pictures in this photoset from the walk and ninth and tenth from the walk back and fourth at Dancing Ledge as we went down a rocky path to beside the water.

Whilst despite me wearing a Skomer Island shirt with them on we didn’t see any of Dorset’s very few Puffins, we saw a good deal of birds at Dancing Ledge, Guillemots and Razorbills sat and flew over so gently on the bright blue water. Rock Pipit and a bright crimson almost paint dipped Linnet made very pleasurable sightings. As we spoke at a safe social distance to a lovely gentleman in great weather once again we spoke to a few brilliant people today we all enjoyed seeing a good few Shags with one appearing to build a nest on the cliff. A special moment with one of my B list favourite birds which I am having a good year for. I took the fifth picture in this photoset of some of the Guillemots and Razorbills here.

We made our way back up the hill and got our flower fix for the day started as we were over the moon to spot this star of Durlston ever year for us and as we would learn this similar area too some early spider orchids starting to come out I took the seventh picture in this photoset of one. We enjoyed some special moments with these stunning and distinctively marked flowers I do love orchids. I got my macro lens out and I took a good few pictures of them. The early spiders are interestingly placed in my camp of flowers I knew before 2020, I have said loads before that noticing and learning more flowers was my main lockdown/working from home project last year. So everything I did with these I did it at a greater scale today really making the most of them. But also with our usual April visit here last year postponed until late June by lockdown I missed these so this was the first time I got to photograph these flowers which I did well before for me especially in 2016 when one was the subject of my first ever flower Twitter display picture with my treasured new macro lens which I’ve probably taken more flower pictures with than my initial macro lens with my interest really increasing the past year or so since I got that macro lens for my birthday in 2020.

It was also nice to see speedwell here and some other flowers which I took the sixth and eighth picture in this photoset of. Further colour was added to a glorious walk of quintessential farmland birds by a Yellowhammer it was great to see clearer than the one we saw at Martin Down on Good Friday. We left for Durlston feeling so happy that we got to see the attractive Dancing Ledge for the first time in eight years and all this walk had to offer. We only did this today as one of the kind people we got talking to at a safe social distance whilst watching “Colin” the Cuckoo at Thursley on Wednesday mentioned this walk as she had been and recommended it highly. Having ticked the four seabird species at Portland that we often would at Durlston in a year we could afford to do things differently today and I’m glad we did. I shall get my post about what happened at Durlston today shortly.

Wildlife Sightings Summary: My first Whitethroat of the year, two of my favourite birds the Guillemot and Razorbill, Shag, Herring Gull seen very well on the low rocks at the ledge by the sea, Rock Pipit, Meadow Pipit, Yellowhammer, Skylark, Linnet, Swallow, Blackbird, House Sparrow we have seen so many of these on our rural trips this week a common urban bird which is always great and Jackdaw.

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sonofhistory · 7 years

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Do you have any information on the founding fathers on their deathbeds?

In chronological order:

A few days before his death, Benjamin Franklin, already on his last days began to run a temperature and felt pain in his chest from an imposture in his leg lung. His difficulty in breathing increased until he was almost suffocating. “He rose from his bed,” wrote Benjamin Rush later to Richard Price, “and begged that it be made up for him so that he might die in a descent manner. His daughter told him that she hoped he would recover and live many years longer. He calmly replied: “I hope not”. Upon being advised to change his position in bed, so that he might breath easy, he said: “A dying man can do nothing easy.” The empyema burst and breathing became almost impossible and he passed into a coma. His grandsons William Temple and Benjamin Bache watched him as he died quietly at eleven in the night of April 17th at eighty-four. (Benjamin Franklin by Karl Van Doren.

On Thursday, December 12, 1799, George Washington was out on horseback supervising farming activities from late morning until three in the afternoon, however during this ride it began to hail and rain. The next morning brought a sore throat and Washington’s voice became increasingly more hoarse. Saturday, December 14th, he was seen by three different doctors who bled and nearly suffocated him with drinks and was bed-ridden. At five in the afternoon George Washington sat up from bed, dressed, and walked over to his chair. He returned to bed within thirty minutes and Washington said, “Doctor, I die hard; but I am not afraid to go; I believed from my first attack that I should not survive it; my breath can not last long.” Soon afterward, Washington thanked all three doctors for their service. At ten at night George Washington spoke, requesting to be “decently buried” and to “not let my body be put into the Vault in less than three days after I am dead.” His last words were “’tis well.” Between ten and eleven at night on December 14, 1799, George Washington passed away surrounded by his wife, a few friends, three housemaids and his valet Christopher Sheels. (Washington by Ron Chernow).

After being shot in a duel with Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamilton was rowed across the Hudson and was preoccupied with spiritual matters. No sooner was he brought to the Bayard home, he asked to see Reverend Benjamin Moore, the rector of Trinity Church. Moore balked at giving Hamilton holy communion as he wrestled with death. Hamilton then turned to Reverend John M. Mason, pastor of the Scotch Presbyterian Church. When Mason entered the chamber he took Hamilton’s hand and the two men exchanged a “melancholy salutation”. Hamilton was unable to get it from him either. Mason tried to console Hamilton, “I perceive it to be so,” Hamilton said. “I am a sinner. I look to His mercy.” He then stressed a hatred of dueling “I used every expedient to avoid the interview, but I have found for some tie past that my life must be exposed to that man. I went to the field determined not to take his life.” He then said “My dear sir, you perceive my unfortunate situation and no doubt have been made acquainted with the circumstances which led to it. It is my desire to receive the communion at your hands. I hop you will not conceive there is any impropriety in my request.” He added, “It has been some time past been the wish of my heart and it was my intention to take an early opportunity of uniting myself to the church by the reception of that holy ordinance.” He also expressed his faith in God’s mercy. Lifting his hands, he said, “I have no ill will against Colonel Burr. I met him with a fixed resolution to do him no harm. I forgive all that happened” The next morning, Hamilton’s mind still clear but his body was motionless. Eliza allowed the children into his presence and lined them at the foot of his bed. According to the Doctor, “he opened his eyes, gave them on look, closed them again till they were taken away.” (Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow).

A few days before Thomas Jefferson’s death, bedridden, he said goodbye to his family, addressing them each in turn. To an eight year old grandson, he smiled and said, “George does not understand what all this means.” To a great-granddaughter he quotes the Gospel of Luke: “Lord, now wettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” Thomas Jefferson Randolph, a grandson, suggested he was looking better, but Jefferson would have none of it. “Do not imagine for a moment that I feel the smallest solicitude about the result,” Jefferson said, “I am like an old watch, with a pinion worn out here, and a wheel there, until it can go no longer.” He awoke to a noice and wondered wether he had heard the name of the Reverend Frederick Hatch. No, he was told. “I have no objection to see him, as a king and good neighbor,” Jefferson said, turning over. He composed a poem for Patsy alluding to his imminent reunion with his wife and Polly. Lying in his alcove bed, Jefferson mused about the Revolution, telling stories of the great drama. “A few hours more, Doctor, and it will be all over,” he said at one point. A five forty-rive pm on July 2nd, he took laudanum in grog. He was given tea three hours later and brandy four hours after that. He slept fitfully as the clock tinged. In the evening of July 3rd at seven pm, he asked, “Ah! Doctor, are you still there?” before saying “Is it the Fourth?”. The Doctor confirmed this and Jefferson said “Oh God!” before taking more laudanum. Two hours later at nine pm, the Doctor awoke him to give him more but he said “No, Doctor, nothing more.” Three hours later he asked, “This is the Fourth?” and there was silence because it was not, he repeated the question and the man lied to him. “Ah, said Jefferson. “Just as I wished.” During one of his dreams he said “Warn the Committee to be on the alert,” and motioned in the air as if he was writing something. At ten he stirred and stared at a grandson and wanted his head elevated. His lips were then at a request wetted with a sponge. At twelve fifty on July 4th, Thomas Jefferson died with his eyes open mixed upon his alcove. (Thomas Jefferson: Art of Power by Jon Meacham).

July 3rd, 1826 John Adams was only able to utter a few words. Early morning of Tuesday, July 4th, Adams lay in bed with his eyes closed, breathing with great difficulty. Thomas Adams sent off an urgent letter to John Quincy Adams saying their father was “sinking rapidly.” Efforts were made to give Adams more comfort by changing his position and he awakened. Told that it was the fourth, he answered “It is a great day. It is a good day.” Late in the afternoon, he stirred and whispered clearly enough to be understood “Thomas Jefferson survives.” Somewhat later, struggling for breath, he whispered to his grand-daughter Susanna, “Help me, child! Help me!” then lapsed into silence. At about six twenty on July 4th, 1826, John Adams was dead. (John Adams by David McCullough).

On the night of May 14, 1829, John Jay was stricken with palsy, probably caused by a stroke. He lived for three days, dying in Bedford, New York, on May 17. That same day, as John Jay was near his death he was asked if he had any final words for his children. He responded with four words: “They have the Book.” [x]

After his wife’s death, unable to live by himself and forced to sell all his property to pay for debts due to Congress not paying him, James Monroe lived with his daughter Maria in New York with her children and husband. After his wife’s death he also expressed that he would not live the year without her and by December, 1830 it was tough for him to leave his bed. He grew weaker, plagued by a cough. When John Quincy Adams came to visit him in April, 1831, Monroe could not leave his room and cut his visit short. In May he wrote up his will dividing everything equally between his two daughters. In a letter to James Madison, he said his greatest regret was that they would never see each other again. That was the last letter he ever had the strength to write and did not respond to Madison’s letter back. On July 4th, 1831, surrounded by Maria’s family, he died shortly after three in the morning, fully conscious. According to sources at the scene, Monroe’s last words were, “I only regret that I should leave this world without again beholding him.” The “him” Monroe was speaking of was James Madison. (James Monroe: The Quest of Destiny by Harry Ammon).

For six months before James Madison’s death, he was “unable to walk, and spent most of his time reclining on a couch.” My mind, however, “was bright and with his numerous visitors he talked with as much animation strength of voice as I ever heard him in his best days.” May 1836 he roused from bed one final time and talked eagerly about his War of 1812 experience. A few days before his death, Madison spent his time reading Professor George Tucker’s life of Thomas Jefferson. On June 27th, he spent several hours painfully dictating thanks for the dedication of the book to him. It was suggested he take “stimulators” which would prolong his life until the 4th of July and be the last founding father and fourth to die on the famous date. The morning of June 28th, Paul Jennigs, a slave, shaved him and brought him breakfast. Nelly Willis, a niece came to visit with her uncle as he ate, when he had difficulty swallowing, Mrs. Willis asked him what the trouble war. Jennings recalled that Madison replied, “nothing more than a change of mind, my dear” and then “his head instantly dropped and he ceased breathing as quietly as the snuff of a candle goes out.” (James Madison by Ralph Ketcham).

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