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kelcemenow · 11 months

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Touchdown - Chapter 17.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 2328

Warnings Strong language, smut and the occasional fluffy moment.

CHAPTER 16.

CHAPTER 17.

You relaxed on the bed, scrolling through your phone as you could hear Travis’ voice echoing from his recording room. You had almost tuned it out but the occasional laugh would grab your attention. After a while, a message appeared at the top of your screen.

“You can come in now, baby.”

You swung your legs off of the end of the bed and craned your neck so you could see your reflection in the mirror. You ran your fingers through your hair and made sure there was nothing in your teeth. You carefully made your way down the long staircase and headed towards Travis' office door. As your hand hovered over the handle, you heard Travis’ voice.

“Really, man. There’s something there.” He was wearing headphones meaning he couldn’t quite hear how loudly he was speaking. “Yeah…seriously. Jason, man, I like her…I like her a lot.”

You blushed instantly as you listened at the door.

“I don’t know…it’s kinda difficult. But I will.”

You took a breath and grasped at the door handle, pushing the door open to see Travis relaxed in a black office chair, looking ahead at Jason on a large screen. He turned his head and beamed at you in the doorway, lifting his foot from his knee and patting his lap.

“Come on, girl!”

You made your way over to him and rested on Travis’ knees, one arm snaking behind his head. He leaned to reach for some extra headphones and you smiled at Jason on the screen. Once you placed the headphones over your ears, Jason’s voice rang out.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?” He waved towards the screen.

“Hi! I’m good, how are you?”

“Ah I’m alright, I’m alright. It’s good to meet you, Travis has told me a little about you. Sounds like you’re his little secret at the moment?”

You looked at Travis with wide eyes.

“Baby, I tell Jason everything.”

Jason leaned towards the camera, “Don’t worry. Y/N, I think it’s awesome. You’ll have to visit to Philly sometime and meet Kylie and the girls.”

You smiled, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Trav says you’re enjoying your time in KC.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve got the best tour guide.” You placed your hand on top of Travis’ head, giving it a little shake.

Travis laughed, “We went to Joe’s and I almost lost her to Amos!”

“It’s true, he was very charming. But not as charming as this big guy here.” You kissed his temple.

Jason leaned forward to the camera, “Travis, man. What spell have you put her under? You stop that black magic now, leave the innocent girl alone.”

You screeched a loud laugh and Travis brought his arm across your shoulders, “No, she’s mine now.”

You felt a flutter in your stomach when he said the word ‘mine’. You looked at the screen for Jason’s reaction. A gentle smile grew on his face and he clapped his hands.

“We just gotta get you on a call with Mom now.”

Travis whistled, “Ohhh Momma Kelce will love you, isn’t that right Jason?”

“Oh yeah, because she’s obsessed with her golden boy!”

You grinned to the screen and looked back to Travis who was staring up at you. He placed his hand around your back and rested it on your waist, giving you a slight squeeze. The other arm gently settled on your thigh.

“So, you got a game this weekend?”

Jason shifted in his seat, “Yeah, the Giants.” Jason’s eyes moved to the side of the screen as you heard his door open and a small, blonde, haired child bounded into the room. The child climbed onto Jason’s lap as Travis cheered next to you.

“Ahh Wyatt, what’s up, babygirl?”

Wyatt’s eyes grew bigger at the sight of Travis on the screen, she waved and grabbed at Jason’s headphones which he gently placed on her much smaller head.

“There’s Uncle Travis!”

Wyatt waved again with a huge smile on her face and you noticed that Jason was now pointing towards you, “And that is Y/N, she’s a very good friend of Uncle Travis.”

Wyatt’s eyes looked at you, her face moving into a smile. She lifted her head towards her father and whispered, “She’s pretty like a Princess, Daddy.”

You giggled into Travis’ neck as he smiled, “Yes, she is honey!”

“Thank you, Wyatt.” You blew her a kiss.

Jason looked down at his daughter, “Okay little miss, we need to get ready for dinner. Say bye to Uncle Travis and Y/N.”

“Bye Uncle Travis. Bye Princess Y/N.” Her tiny voice made your heart melt.

Jason placed the headphones back onto his own head, “Alright you lovebirds, I gotta go. Speak to you later Travis, and Y/N, I hope you stick around long enough for me to meet you in person.”

The three of you laughed as Travis closed to the video chat and swung the overhead microphone away. He spun the chair away from the desk slightly and looked up at you, “So, that’s Jason.”

“He seems really nice.”

“He’s the best. And doing this podcast with him is great. It means that even though we’re in different states, I get to catch up with him all of the time.”

You rested your head against his, “That’s so cool for you both.”

Travis moved his face to press his lips into your cheek. You turned your head so that his lips connected with yours. His hand moved up to the back of your head, pressing you closer to him. You shifted in his lap and his mouth moved down to your neck, starting with soft kisses and gentle bites.

He moved you around so that your back was resting on his chest and continued to kiss and suck at your neck. His hands ran along your waist, sloping upwards to your breasts, squeezing the flesh gently. Your legs parted and you writhed slowly with the pleasure that was rushing over your body. Travis’ fingers started to ghost over the waistband of your jeans and your eyes flickered down as you watched him grab at your thighs. You tilted your hips and ground your ass into his crotch.

“Uhh, fuck.”

Your skin tingled as he growled close to your ear. You put your hands on top of his, moving them away from your body so you could stand up. Keeping your back to him you slowly peeled your jeans down and onto the floor. You could hear Travis’ breathing speed up and his hands moved over your ass, his fingers digging in.

You turned around to face him sat in the chair, a large bulge protruding in his sweatpants. His eyes were glassy, hungry and fixed on you. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as he shook his head.

“Baby, you are so beautiful.” He reached out for you, “I want you…so bad.”

“You have me. I’m yours, remember?”

Your words sparked something inside of him and he was suddenly out of the chair and pushing you against the wall, his lips smashing into yours. The night in the pool was slow, meticulous and sensual. This time felt different; almost animalistic. His hands found their way to your throat, his fingers pressing into your skin. You frantically reached to remove his sweatpants and he responded by pulling his shirt off quickly. His large hands pulled at the fabric of the shirt you were wearing and it ripped with ease. You gasped, impressed at his strength.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He said breathlessly.

“It’s yours anyway.” You panted as he returned his mouth to your neck.

“Fuck it.” He said, groaning into your skin.

He ripped the fabric further and grabbed at your exposed breasts, his fingers pulling at your nipples. You threw your head back, closed your eyes and groaned as he replaced his hands with his mouth, his tongue swirling around your left nipple, occasionally sucking until you squeaked at the gentle pain. As he switched over to the right side, you opened your eyes and looked down, watching him expertly turn you on. Travis hooked his arm under one of your knees and picked you up with little effort, placing you carefully onto his office chair. Almost instantly, he tugged at your thong, removing it and throwing it on the floor behind him. His head disappeared downwards and you felt his mouth latch onto your clit, flicking and sucking at the swollen nub. Your muscles contracted with the sensation, and jolts of pleasure shot up and down your body. Travis pushed at the underneath of your thighs and you let your knees come up to your chest. Travis pushed further so that your folds spread for him, his head lifting up to see your pussy before returning his tongue to it.

Your breathy moans filled the room, the air thick with lust. You ran your fingernails along his neck and head, digging into the skin behind his ears, his low growl vibrating into your pussy. You clenched your thighs as you came close to your orgasm but Travis responded by quickly removing his mouth from you with a wet noise.

You lifted your head and stared at him, “What are you doing?”

Travis looked up at you with half lidded eyes, “I’m taking what’s mine.”

You smiled and arched your back as his mouth began nipping at your inner thighs, the rough hair on his cheeks tickling your clit. You felt a strong finger push inside of you, curling upwards and pumping mercilessly. You whined with a high-pitched squeak, your core aching for his hard cock. Travis stopped almost immediately in response to your sounds, lifting his soaking fingers up to your mouth and pushing down on your lip. You opened your mouth and sucked his fingers, your tongue swirling around. Travis’ eyes widened as he watched you taste yourself, his shoulders tensing before he picked you up and pushed you down onto the floor. You landed with a thud, on your hands and knees.

Travis kneeled behind you, lifting your body up so that you were in front of him. “I want us to come together.” He growled into your ear.

Your knees spread almost subconsciously, allowing him to slot in comfortably in between them. His hand snaked around your waist and found your clit, his fingers circling gently.

“You’re so wet for me, beautiful.”

You hummed as he pushed his thick erection into you, your hips responded by shuddering downwards. You both rested down onto your ankles as you relaxed your walls and allowed them to stretch around his size. You gasped and began to lift up and down slowly, Travis returning the same motion. His chest was slick with sweat and it felt hot against your back. You opened your eyes to see your reflection in the large window. The night was dark outside, meaning the window acted like a large mirror. Your bodies were moving in complete harmony, raising up and down With one hand still working your clit, his other hand found its way to your neck, his grip tightening somewhat.

“Hmm, baby. That feels…amazing. So good…so good.” You breathed.

“Keep talking, tell me what you want, say my name.” He responded through his thrusts.

“You make me feel so good, Travis…you’re incredible.”

He tightened his grip a little more, “Are you mine?”

You moaned, “I’m all yours, baby.”

He quickly turned you around onto your back and his large frame loomed over you. His arms held you closely around your waist and he lifted your hips up so that his dick was just over your entrance.

He paused for a moment, looking at you with his desirous gaze. “You are perfect. I…am so lucky.”

You smiled up at him, reaching out for his muscular arms. He quickly rammed into you, the loud primal slaps of skin against skin encouraging your orgasm. You clenched onto his arms and he pulled you in even closer. Your head was fully tilted back, hovering over the floor and letting him take all of the weight of your upper body. Your breasts bounced wildly along with his thrusts as they became faltered and awkward and as he angled his hips forward, his dick grazed your g-spot.

You cried out frantically, “Please…d-don’t stop, Travis. I’m gonna come.”

“Me too, baby. That’s it…that’s it.” He moaned in between thrusts.

Your core ached and a strange pressure suddenly released in your lower stomach, a sensation you had never felt before. You opened your eyes, trying to focus on the blurry image of Travis above you. He continued to thrust hard through his own orgasm, gripping your hips and clenching his teeth. He looked down to watch his cock moving in and out of you and you noticed a smile on his face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you cried out again, another release of the feeling you had felt earlier. Travis chuckled and pushed into you deeper, with short sharp drives. You could feel his cock pulsating inside of you and he groaned, stopping the thrusts as his ejaculation pumped into you.

You laid still for a moment, with the only movement being Travis’ occasional gentle twitches. Both of your breathing slowed and as you caught control of it, Travis leaned down to kiss you on your forehead.

“You’re amazing.”

You smiled up at him and wriggled your hips slightly as he pulled himself out of you. He lowered his body next to you, facing yours and tracing his fingers across the skin on your chest.

“Oh, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He kissed your shoulder.

“Just then, towards the end there. What were you laughing and smiling at?”

Travis smirked, his already flushed cheeks darkening slightly, “Well, when you came…uhh…you squirted.”

You covered your face with a hand as you smiled, “Did I? Oh man, I’ve never done that before!”

Travis grinned back at you, “I’ll take that as a compliment, then?”

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I liked this one, and I hope you all like it too! This series should be finished by the end of the week and then I'm moving onto requests so if you have anything in mind, just ask away. If you want to be added to this tag list or my generic one, just give me a shout!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983

#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #travis kelce fic #original story #touchdown series #travis kelce fluff #travis kelce smut

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smokeybrandcompositions · 1 month

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Apparently, NBC has hired Ronna McDaniel as a political consultant and her “colleagues” feel some kind of way about it. For those of you who don’t know, Ronna McDaniel was the RNC chair during Trump’s run in the Oval Office, and reigned over it as he tried to basically bamboozle the country into a dictatorship which failed, spectacularly, violently, on January 6th, 2020. This woman was right there, encouraging the fake electorate plot but offering logistics, political cover, and legal aid. There are depositions about this this sh*t. She’s called the people she is not working for and with, the enemy. Fake News. Radical Left Communists. Perverts. Part of the Swamp. Everything Trump has said about the left in the time she was in charge of the RNC and he was in political office, McDaniel signed off on. His words were her words. She was such a sycophant for Drumpf, ma changed her name because her he hated her uncle. For the record, Ronna McDaniel’s given name is Ronna Romney McDaniel. For years, she worked in the political field as Romney. She abandoned her maiden name, the one with all of the political cache tied to it, in order to suck at the teat of a would-be authoritarian, and the president of NBC thought it was a good idea to platform this slime ball in the “fairness” of political discourse. Bro, am I living in bizarre world right now?

I read a piece about some executive say NBC saying that you can’t get a fair view of the issues in an echo, insinuating that having so many of their news people leaning left has skewed the way they present news. Adding McDaniel to the mix was supposed to fix that but really? You already have Conservatives on your payroll, Joe Scarborough immediately comes to mind. He was a f*cking Republican House Representative FOR FLORIDA, back in the late Nineties and Early Aughts. You can’t get much more Conservative than that. The problem here is that the Right has moved away from tempered, reasonable, educated, people they send to office, people like Scarbourough. Don’t misunderstand me, Joe and I will probably disagree on a lot of fundamental political issues, he’s still technically a Conservative and I genuinely believe that sh*t holds out growth as a society back, but at least there’s room for discourse. We can debate each other. We can exchange ideas and come to some sort of agreement. Joe, and his ilk, would listen. Ronna and her band of despotic ass wipes, won’t. I mean, you see that in their own Party as we speak. The Republicans have pass no legislation, other than to oust Speaker after Speaker. They’re f*cking eating each other live on TV and no one on the right seems to care and NBC thought it would be wise to bring in ca principal architect, a direct enabler of such chaos in out government, in order to represent “The Right.” Bro, no. Never

You can’t both sides this sh*t. You can’t give what is effectively the propaganda and bankroll arm of a would-be fascist state, air time. There are no reasonable Republicans anymore. The RNC is just another extension of the Trump Regime and their gearing up to take another shot at Democracy. Ronna McDaniel had a direct hand in guiding those sights. Literally, up until she was officially ousted from her role as the RNC chair, she espoused that the 2020 election was stolen, which is a lie. That claim failed in every court it was brought in to. Fox News was sued, and settled for hundreds of millions of dollars, because there was enough evidence to prove their claim of voter machine tampering was a lie. Ronna perpetuated these falsehoods, in her capacity as arguably the second or third most powerful Republican on the planet, up until the very day she wasn’t, and then after securing that NBC bag, got on television to tell everyone she didn’t believe anything she said for the past six years or whatever. That she as just towing the line, following the Republican current. If that’s the case, then you can be bought. Your integrity has a price. You’re not to be trusted as journalist, but as a media mercenary but one without your main weapon because you’re not the RNC chair anymore. Your Strong Man got you fired so he could install his daughter-in-law. You changed your name for this man and he returned your loyalty by taking your career away from you.

Ronna was painted as the failure of every election a Trump candidate lost, since 2020. It as her poor leadership which lead to seats being lost at every level of Government, at every Special Election across the country. It has nothing to do with the Republican cause basically shifting toward one of straight up White Nationalism. It had nothing to do with every Republican rallying behind Trump, was pushing this xenophobic, misogynistic, message to any voter that would listen. It had nothing to do with all of these ridiculous f*ckers touting their support of Roe getting repealed and the perceived necessity for a nationwide abortion ban. No, these GOP candidates lost, over and over again, because Ronna was bad at her job. According to Trump. And she was sacrificed so that her once beloved orange demagogue would save face, instead of being held accountability with which he infects the entire party. Cast aside and left to the wolves, Ronna did what was best for her, and appealed to the enemy she’d been attacking for half a decade. And they responded in kind, bad faith be damned.

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smokeybrand · 1 month

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Faithless

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njenjemedia · 2 years

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The other day, Mr. Sam Omatseye – a writer many used to have respect for due to some reasons, including the fluidity of his prose – wrote an article entitled “Obi-nomics”. In the said article, clearly embittered by resentment, he hurled obloquies at Mr. Peter Obi. He saw Obi as a rising sun that must be totally eclipsed. I did a rejoinder to that piece as part of the respected “right to reply”, which readers are supposed to enjoy. I appropriately sent the rejoinder to Mr. Sam Omatseye, who, contrary to the liberality of “The Nation” newspaper refused to present it for publication. Of course, I felt bad. Omatseye may not know that I have come a long way with “The Nation”Newspaper not to be denied such a right. In any case, I was privileged to have written the first letter to the Editor at the birth of “The Nation” (then Comet) Newspaper entitled “The Comet Cometh”. Am I not qualified to be a stakeholder? A few months after that piece, Omatseye was at it again. On the 1st of August, he wrote another piece entitled “Obi-tuary”, literary wishing Obi dead and buried as the easiest route for his patron to become the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. In his recent piece, he pelted Obi with poisoned ink by inventing imaginary flaws in Obi’s character which he served in hot-peppered sauce. It is hard to find, in all records of opinion-writing, a piece more barbarous, stinking, and oozing scalding lava of obscene volcanic words not just about a person, but also about a people – The Igbos. Like a sightless lover whose inexplicable increase in hydraulic pressure drove to a blind erotic hunger that led to rape, Omatseye employed the weapons he is at home with: satire, ridicule, vituperation and crafty distortion of the truth. What are those untruths? We shall see them through the narratives he tried to push through. The first segment of his venomous vituperation may be summarised through the lines he addressed directly to the Igbos with the aim to injure them in body and spirit: “They have transferred the temperament of their former master into the new. And they have not spared any incoherence, any lack of finesse, and threats and tantrums, any show of rabid, primitive cants, or any ululations. They have abused, cursed, thrown imprecations. They have hugged lies about their candidate. They have pelted lies about others. They have distorted material”. Here, Omatseye simply presented the symptoms of a man who is worried by sleeplessness on account of the popularity of Mr. Peter Obi by trying to make his candidacy an ethnic movement. Just like our Uncle Joe You-Know-Who, would you blame Omatseye for vigorously attacking a man who appears to have made a ship-wreck of their sweet dreams of occupying Aso Rock in 2023? For the instruction of Omatseye and his admirers, Peter Obi’s candidacy cannot be reduced to an ethnic movement. If there is anybody who has raised the banner of ethnicity, it was the man who gleefully pronounced that it was “his turn”. Nigeria is bleeding on all fronts. Our leaders of today have plunged the country into hostile halves of the North and the South; the rich and the poor; the haves and the haves-not. Daily, they are guiding Nigeria into anarchy. Today, there is hardly any spot or town where the torch of insurrection does not openly flame. Rather than write responsibly and contribute to extinguishing that fire, Omatseye is bracketing the Igbos as the problem of the country. To prove to you how depraved Omatseye has descended into, because the “turn” of his master is “challenged”, let us consider some of his words: “Kanu lashes out at Obi as governor and stated what this essayist wrote about him over building a NEXT supermarket while still the governor of Anambra State. The video clip referred to him as a sort of sexual being on the fringe. You can imagine an Aso Rock sweltering with romps of the evil flesh. His so-called Obidients know this. But it counts for little.” The fact is that Next Mall in Abuja was conceived and started long before Peter Obi became a State Governor.

Before then, Next already had facilities bigger that the Abuja Mall. On the issue of sexual perversion, all I can state is that many Obi-watchers are appalled as certainly as most Nigerians are by Omatseye’s ungracious scurrility. I observed some people that called themselves “Batists,” those he is old enough to be their fathers, hailing him with guffaws of applause. Deep inside him, is he happy trying to destroy another man with obvious lies? There should be limits a gentleman should go in tarnishing the image of others simply because he is fighting for a master they place value in his favours than his reputation. I understand he is avoided in “The Nation”Newspaper because of his habitual gossips and snitches to BAT about those that support or do not support him. No writer has the monopoly of lies and use of empty amplifications, deceptive analogies and rhetorical tricks. The difference is that sometimes it is a matter of choice or being constrained by maturity and objectivity. We have obvious truths about other presidential candidates, which nobody that works closely with Peter Obi has used because it is not his style. Who says we cannot, for example, refer to some candidates thick and dropping under lips, hesitant and incoherent speeches, and hands that twitch spasmodically as evidence that age and narcotics have rendered them unsuitable for the post? Who says we cannot demand from Omatseye the real name of his patron, the clearing of the cloud surrounding his education and the clarification of the fact of having been jailed in the USA once upon a time. We would not write certain things, especially those bordering on the use of diapers as it will amount to disrespect for the aged or the sick. It could be you or I tomorrow. However, our stand does not vitiate the fact that such are factors in governance. Exhausting the arrows in his quiver, Omatseye wrote confusedly about Obi: “This is Obi, who claimed he saved money, while pensioners were looking desperately at their graves”. The verifiable fact is that pensioners had it best under Mr. Peter Obi in Anambra State. Besides clearing arrears of pensions and gratuities that had accumulated in the State since 1999 till he became Governor – to the tune of over 35 Billion Naira – Obi did not owe any pensioner till he left office. Under him, retirees got their benefits within three months of disengaging from service. Sam Omatseye should know and anyone else can go and verify. Dourly inflexible and embittered by Peter Obi’s rising profile and elevation to stardom of good governance, Sam Omatseye wrote: “But no economy works in history by saving money. It stifles the economy. He has not been able to tell us how he will do it, and whether he has done it.” Would it be reasonable to think that Omatseye does not have a savings account as a private person? If he could save for any reason, why does he rationally think that States should not save? Could he point at any prodigal State that he knows that expended all their revenues without savings? In any case, Obi is ever ready to explain the rationale behind saving for the State. Here he goes: “I saved N48,629,473,469 in local currency some of which we tied to specific projects like payment of 2-year salary of civil servants we employed for him [his successor, Willie Obiano] not to be encumbered, Agulu and Onitsha Hotel, Awka and Nnewi Malls and some critical roads like the completion of the dualization of the Dual carriage road over which we had got permission to do so and be paid back by the Federal Government. We also left some for him to continue what we were doing aggressively”. On the US$156 million saved, Peter Obi explained the purpose thus: “After our study of the Chinese phenomenal achievements as we were coming to the end of MDGs, we learned that the Chinese Regional governments were able to attract a number of investments because of the ability to contribute or partner with the investors in setting up productive facilities within their regions.

“For example, some of them effectively made equity contributions of 10-20%, which they were able to achieve due to their robust saving. “So, our calculation was that if the State would be able to save a particular amount (US$18-20 million) as we did in eight years, up until 2030 at the average interest rate of a little over 6%, we would be able to achieve about a billion Dollars in savings and earnings. We would then use about 50% of this amount to attract investments, considering that the average Chinese Small and Medium Scale Enterprise (SME), for example, was set up with about two million Dollars. Our goal was that if we would be able to invest 25% in each enterprise, which is $500,000, we would be able to achieve 1000 SMEs facilities scattered all over Anambran State, which would jump-start aggressive economic growth within the State, especially as income from oil is coming to an end”. What else do we add to this pragmatic explanation? It is, however, intriguing that a man of the Sam Omatseye’s status is ignorant of this fact or more likely, chose to suppress it. A few days ago, Mr. Peter Obi visited Dunamis Church in Abuja to commune with the Creator and was warmly received. As usual, those that are feeling hurt by Obi’s candidature as represented by Omatseye had their BP reaching to bursting point. Externalizing his inner feelings, he wrote: “He is therefore using religion as a bait. He is now on a weekly pilgrimage to churches.” The truth which you may verify is that since 2014 when Obi left office, he has been visiting schools and Churches to support what they do towards the good of the society. From Sokoto to Nassarawa States, through Kogi and Anambra States, and elsewhere, he has been donating to schools owned by the Churches in his passion for education. He is also contributing to the upgrade of health facilities nationwide. Peter Obi is not prompted by politics, but by the love for the society and humanity. During COVID-19 pandemics, he donated hundreds of millions to the Federal Government as support; this was besides millions he spent on his own through about 30 hospitals. Yesterday, while Omatseye’s article was being debated, the usually-frank Nwachukwu Ngige interjected: “The more they attack him, the more they promote him. Poor PR strategy!” As if offering advice to Omatseye and his tribe, he concluded: “Sell your product first.” In Igbo parlance, a child without parents gain when the one with parents is advised. I have taken the advice and will momentarily sell my candidate while challenging Omatseye to sell his with decorum. Born on the 19th of July, 1961, Mr. Peter Obi had good parents who tried early enough to inoculate him with every virtue. Curiosity and the urge to succeed burned like lava in him. He attended Santa Maria Primary School and Christ the King College (CKC) – both at Onitsha. Thereafter, he graduated with 2nd Class in Philosophy at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (UNN). He has been to some of the best universities in the world on specialised training on leadership and management. His certificates – with names and addresses of issuing institutions – are intact and available for scrutiny or as “Obidients” will say reminding us of logical positivists, for verification. In all the educational institutions Peter Obi attended, he absorbed knowledge avidly and became the centre of attraction in his class. He has deployed his extensive learning to building the society. What others do with Agbado and Ewedu he does with statistics. Evidently, he possesses the right and agile intellect needed for the governance of Nigeria. When last did you listen to him speak? What a mind he has! – as rapid as an electric spark, and as bright; one could almost hear the crackling of the fire of his thoughts in the incisive sentences of his speech that made his listeners fall into trance of admiration. At Dunamis, even without uttering a word, a rainbow of excitement hung over the congregation that set some commentators crazy with hate.

It is not easy to become a living political saint! I suspect it was one of the reasons that provoked Sam Omatseye’s piece – ‘We must stop this man at all costs!’. For what he habitually does, Omatseye is another example of how not to be a man of letters. You cannot brandish the pen as an instrument of terror and expect to be genuinely respected! Even when the likes of Peter Obi tries everything possible to make others see politics as friendly struggle for power by playing it with the categorical imperative of love, Omatseye and his ilk make it look forbidden. Peter Obi was recently an object of contumely by his followers when he advised cautious restraint in the use of language. I believe he needs to speak to people like Sam Omatseye on the need to see politics as the contest among brothers (and sisters) rather than enemies. Did you not hear him say that when people show him hatred, he tries to show them love? Sam Omatseye too needs that soothing vaccination. His is obviously a troubled soul and would need a little of Obi’s love to avoid psychic encumbrances. Faithful to the advice from Dr. Chris Ngige, Omatseye should concentrate on selling his candidate by reasonably-fair means. Winning the Presidency or selling a candidate should not be by the assemblage of over 100,000 youths, buying computers for them and teaching them the propagation of falsehoods. I learnt that some of them that write pure, unadulterated nonsense against Obi are among the resource persons that tutor these youths on all the techniques of spreading falsehoods; thus drawing them into the vortex of worthlessness. The destructive inclination of Omatseye and his tribe reminds us of Quintus’ disgraceful advice about electioneering. In one of Cicero’s campaigns, his brother, Quintus, drew up for him a manual of electioneering technique. “Be lavish in your promises,” Quintus advised. “Men prefer a false promise to a flat refusal. Continue to get some new scandal aired against your rivals”, Quintus continued, “for crime, corruption, or immorality”. Is this not what Omatseye is doing? Again listen to one of his lumbering bashful expressions of Pugilism: “The Obi followers accept Biafra but reject Nigeria.” So elders of the West that are supporting him have accepted Biafra? Is this the reason they are trying to buy Nollywood Stars in Nigeria with 5 million Naira each to denounce Obi? Thank God the struggle in the land today is about the future of the country and not about what money can buy. Those hoping that money will do it for them would soon discover that a New Nigeria is gradually evolving from the ashes of the old through peaceful revolution. What else? Shall we now, being exhausted, jumble together the last phase by way of advice to Omatseye? May we, therefore, commend Sam Omatseye to such writers as Dr. Okey Ikechukwu, Dr. Reuben Abati, Mr. Simon Kolawole for emulation. Despite great learning and reasoning, they are amiable in discourse, cheerful of mood, moderate in controversy, tolerant of opposing views and not letting diversity of politics abate the cordiality of friendships.

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newstfionline · 2 years

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Wednesday, May 11, 2022

Biden signs Ukraine bill, seeks $40B aid, in Putin rejoinder (AP) Washington sought to portray a united front against Russia’s invasion of Ukraine as President Joe Biden signed a bipartisan measure to reboot the World War II-era “lend-lease” program, which helped defeat Nazi Germany, to bolster Kyiv and Eastern European allies. The signing Monday came as the U.S. Congress is poised to unleash billions more to fight the war against Russia—with Democrats preparing $40 billion in military and humanitarian aid, larger than the $33 billion package Biden has requested. It all serves as a rejoinder to Russian President Vladimir Putin, who has seized on Victory in Europe Day—the anniversary of Germany’s unconditional surrender in 1945 and Russia’s biggest patriotic holiday—to rally his people behind the invasion.

Cartel shuts down much of Colombia over leader’s extradition to U.S. (Washington Post) Francisco Miguel Soto López was preparing to start his day as he had since he was a teenager, selling plantains in his town’s central market, when the two men arrived on motorcycles. The men shouted an announcement that would repeat itself across northern Colombia: This was an armed strike! Everyone needed to go home! That was when his nephew heard the gunshots. One hit Soto in the back, killing the 54-year-old uncle and soccer player here in the northern department of Córdoba. For more than four days, Colombia’s largest drug cartel terrorized cities across more than 100 municipalities in 10 departments, confining residents in their homes, blocking roads and paralyzing businesses. At least 187 vehicles and eight transportation terminals have been damaged. The paramilitary group known as the Clan del Golfo unleashed the so-called armed strike in retaliation for the extradition to the United States of its leader. Dairo Antonio Úsuga, known more commonly as Otoniel, was arraigned in federal court last week on drug trafficking charges. The Colombian and U.S. governments celebrated the extradition as a victory in their effort to dismantle a notorious drug cartel that dominates major cocaine smuggling routes through the country. But the response to the extradition has shown just how powerful the Clan del Golfo remains.

Amazon tribes turn the tables on intruders with social media (AP) It was dusk on April 14 when Francisco Kuruaya heard a boat approaching along the river near his village in Brazil’s Amazon rainforest. He assumed it was the regular delivery boat bringing gasoline for generators and outboard motors to remote settlements like his. Instead, what Kuruaya found was a massive barge dredging his people’s pristine river in search of gold. Kuruaya, 47, motored out to the barge, boarded it and confronted the gold miners. They responded in harsh voices and he retreated for fear they were armed. But so was he—with a phone—the first he’d ever had. Back in his village Karimaa, his son Thaylewa Xipaia forwarded the photos of the mining boat to the tribe’s WhatsApp chat groups. Several days’ voyage away, in the nearest city of Altamira, Kuruaya’s daugher Juma Xipaia received the frantic messages. She recorded her own video with choked voice and watery eyes, warning that armed conflict was imminent—then uploaded it to social media. In a matter of hours, word was out to the world. A fast-expanding network of antennae is empowering Indigenous groups to use phones, video cameras and social media to galvanize the public and pressure authorities to respond swiftly to threats from gold miners, landgrabbers and loggers.

Turkish drones (New Yorker) The Bayraktar TB2 is a flat, gray unmanned aerial vehicle (U.A.V.), with angled wings and a rear propeller. It carries laser-guided bombs and is small enough to be carried in a flatbed truck, and costs a fraction of similar American and Israeli drones. Its designer, Selçuk Bayraktar, the son of a Turkish auto-parts entrepreneur, is one of the world’s leading weapons manufacturers. In the defense of Ukraine, Bayraktar has become a legend, the namesake of a baby lemur at the Kyiv zoo, and the subject of a catchy folk song, which claims that his drone “makes ghosts out of Russian bandits.” The TB2 has now carried out more than eight hundred strikes, in conflicts from North Africa to the Caucasus. The bombs it carries can adjust their trajectories in midair, and are so accurate that they can be delivered into an infantry trench. Military analysts had previously assumed that slow, low-flying drones would be of little use in conventional combat, but the TB2 can take out the anti-aircraft systems that are designed to destroy it. “This enabled a fairly significant operational revolution in how wars are being fought right now,” Rich Outzen, a former State Department specialist on Turkey, told me. “This probably happens once every thirty or forty years.”

Russian territorial gains in Ukraine (NYT) Russia’s invasion has been marred by poor planning, flawed intelligence, low morale and indiscriminate violence against civilians. But there is also a harsh reality emerging for Ukraine: Russia is making some significant territorial gains. The Kremlin has said it wants to “liberate” the whole Donbas region, which combines two big eastern enclaves, Luhansk and Donetsk. Russian forces now control an estimated 80 to 90 percent of the Donbas, according to Ukrainian officials, compared with more than a third when the war began. Severodonetsk, the last city in the Luhansk region still under Ukraine’s control, is nearly encircled by Russian forces, The Wall Street Journal reports. The next month or two of fighting in the Donbas will be pivotal. But even if Russia succeeds, the war would not end there. The U.S. director of national intelligence, Avril Haines, said Ukraine and Russia both believe they can make battlefield gains, making a near-term diplomatic solution unlikely.

In Europe’s Schoolyards, Putin’s War Hurts Russian-Speaking Children (NYT) In a suburb of Aachen, in the west of Germany, Alex Ebert, 11, was on the bus back from school, his mother said, when four boys told him that he was killing Ukrainian children. One of them, who he told her had pushed him the week before and called him a slur used for Russians, slammed Alex’s head into the window and kicked him in the stomach and back. Alex, who speaks Russian because his parents are from Kazakhstan, got out at a bus stop and sat on the ground until strangers in a car stopped and picked him up. “He was crying and hurting,” said his mother, Svetlana Ebert. “He doesn’t understand what he has to do with it.” President Vladimir V. Putin’s invasion has killed hundreds of Ukrainian children, orphaned many more and displaced millions, and wrecked homes and schools. But it has also crept into the lives of Russian-speaking children across Europe, who have found themselves paying for Mr. Putin’s aggression in humiliation, harassment and bullying—another perverse effect of a war that is overwhelmingly affecting the innocent. “This problem is growing every day,” said Carsten Stahl, Germany’s most prominent anti-bullying activist, who said he had received scores of reports of bullying of Russian-speaking students. “I’m very angry and very ashamed.”

The Black Sea and Russia (Economist) On April 22nd Rustam Minnekaev, a senior commander in the Russian army, said that his country planned to seize southern Ukraine, connecting the Russian-occupied parts of the Donbas region to the breakaway statelet of Transnistria in Moldova. This would cut Ukraine off from the Black Sea, through which more than 70% of its cargo is exported. But the naval aspect of this mooted assault is stalling, and Russia has no way to strengthen its forces in the Black Sea. Why? Russia has 20 warships, including submarines, in the Black Sea. But its ability to mount a naval offensive or to land troops has been curtailed by Ukrainian missiles. In late March a Ukrainian attack on the Russian-occupied port of Berdyansk, in south-east Ukraine, destroyed a landing ship, the Saratov, and damaged two others. On April 14th Ukrainian and American officials reported that a pair of Neptune missiles had struck the Moskva (which later sank), a warship that was one of the Russian navy’s crown jewels. Russia has two other ships of the same class, but it has no way of getting them to the Black Sea. The reason is a treaty from 1936, known as the Montreux Convention, which regulates maritime traffic through the Dardanelles and Bosporus straits. Both straits, which connect the Black Sea to the Mediterranean, are controlled by Turkey. In late February Turkey applied Montreux rules to prevent Russia from sending new warships into the Black Sea. Turkey’s move appears to have had a decisive impact on the naval war. If Turkey upholds its promise to maintain application of the Montreux rules, Russian naval assets will have to stay away.

Sri Lanka’s prime minister steps down after deadly clashes in Colombo (Washington Post) Sri Lanka’s powerful Prime Minister Mahinda Rajapaksa resigned Monday after violence between government supporters and furious protesters threatened to plunge the economically stricken nation into chaos. The announcement by Rajapaksa, the older brother of President Gotabaya Rajapaksa, marked a concession from the ruling political family to mounting public fury over an unprecedented economic crisis that has sent food and fuel prices soaring. After months of peaceful protests, Mahinda Rajapaksa appeared determined to cling to power as recently as Monday morning, when he rallied supporters at his official residence in the capital, Colombo. Mayhem soon erupted. The pro-Rajapaksa demonstrators, many bused in from the countryside, attacked peaceful protesters outside the residence and stormed the protest movement’s main gathering site, indiscriminately beating people with clubs. Hours later, according to local media reports and witnesses, the protesters gathered to retaliate. They chased and beat Rajapaksa supporters in the streets, burned buses and offices belonging to the ruling party and ransacked the residences of two mayors. Police said at least two people were killed and at least 150 were injured. Amid growing condemnation of his supporters’ part in the violence, Mahinda Rajapaksa announced he would step aside.

Shanghai disinfects homes, closes all subways in COVID fight (AP) Teams in white protective suits are entering the homes of coronavirus-infected people to spray disinfectant as Shanghai tries to root out an omicron outbreak under China’s strict “zero-COVID” strategy. City official Jin Chen said Tuesday that in older communities with shared bathrooms and kitchens, the homes of anyone else who uses those facilities will also be disinfected. Shanghai also suspended service on the last two subway lines that were still operating Tuesday, marking the first time the city’s entire system has been shut down. The latest measures come as Shanghai has ordered people in some districts to stay in their homes again after letting some out for limited shopping in recent weeks. The latest steps have further frustrated residents, who were hoping a more than monthlong lockdown was finally easing.

Kicking the China habit: South Korea hunts tungsten (Reuters) Blue tungsten winking from the walls of abandoned mine shafts, in a town that’s seen better days, could be a catalyst for South Korea’s bid to break China’s dominance of critical minerals and stake its claim to the raw materials of the future. The mine in Sangdong, 180 km southeast of Seoul, is being brought back from the dead to extract the rare metal that’s found fresh value in the digital age in technologies ranging from phones and chips to electric vehicles and missiles. “Why reopen it now after 30 years? Because it means sovereignty over natural resources,” said Lee Dong-seob, vice president of mine owner Almonty Korea Tungsten Corp. “Resources have become weapons and strategic assets.” Sangdong is one of at least 30 critical mineral mines or processing plants globally that have been launched or reopened outside China over the last four years. Overall demand for such rare minerals is expected to increase four-fold by 2040, the International Energy Agency said last year. Many countries view their minerals drive as a matter of national security because China controls the mining, processing or refining of many of these resources. The Asian powerhouse is the largest supplier of critical minerals to the United States and Europe, according to a study by the China Geological Survey in 2019. Of the 35 minerals the United States has classified as critical, China is the largest supplier of 13, including rare earth elements essential for clean-energy technologies, the study found. China is the largest source of 21 key minerals for the European Union, such as antimony used in batteries, it said.

#headlines #news

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dubreggae · 2 years

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One of history’s best music lists -- better than Pitchfork’s, Rolling Stone’s, or Elvis Costello’s -- was made by a teenager named Snoopy in the summer of 1977. In the London music newspaper Black Echoes, he published his 125 favorite albums from the golden age of dub reggae. Forty-four years later, thanks to a lucky break, I found him.

Snoopy, born Paul Nagle, is a hero three times over. First, he vividly chronicled under-documented and mysterious music, producing the closest thing I know to a kind of Leonard Maltin Guide to the history of dub. Second, when I reached out, he was willing to respond to a stranger: "Hi,” he said. “My friend told me you were interested in getting in contact with me.” The third reason is that he answered my series of questions about his life, the list, and its beautiful music with the same kind of warmth and expertise that makes his writing so valuable.

His memories of late-70s reggae record shops, radio stations, zines and newspapers, and the adventures, fights, and relationships that came along with them, make for one of the best accounts I’ve ever heard of the dub reggae scene, especially the version that migrated from Jamaica to England at the height of King Tubby, Lee “Scratch” Perry, Dub Specialist, the Revolutionaries, the Aggrovators, Augustus Pablo, Yabby You, Joe Gibbs, Keith Hudson, Sonia Pottinger, 4th Street Orchestra, Lloyd Coxsone, Rupie Edwards, Derrick Harriott, Skin, Flesh & Bones, Tommy McCook, and Duke Reid. Inspired by Snoopy’s list, I made a compilation of about 81 hours of dub, which you can listen to right here. Here’s what he told me: Who’s Snoopy? Paul Nagle is the name I was born with. I was born in Islington, London, in April 1959, and moved with my family to the new town of Basildon, in Essex, in 1964. In 1969, when I was ten, a friend of mine’s sister recommended and lent me a book of American cartoon strips called For the Love of Peanuts. I immediately fell in love with the Peanuts gang, in particular Charlie Brown’s dog. A few years later, I became penpals with a girl from my old school called Marianne. She was in her sister’s band, had a stage name, and used to sign off her letters to me using it. I was quite jealous, so I adopted Snoopy as my pseudonym. When I was sixteen, I wrote a letter to a weekly rock paper called New Musical Express congratulating them on their recent coverage of reggae, which i was fanatical about at the time. I didn’t want to use my own name, so i signed the letter Snoopy.

It was printed as their letter of the week on their Gasbag page. There was a note at the end of my letter which asked that I contact the features editor, whose name was Neil Spencer. I did so and he invited me to start writing about reggae for them on a freelance basis. Snoopy became my nom de plume, and the nickname has stuck with me for the rest of my life. Most people, apart from my family, know me as Snoopy. Of course, people often get the name wrong: I have been called Spooky, Snotty, Snooty, Snooky, Sleepy, Noddy and countless other derivatives.

How did you learn about dub reggae? My generous dad gave me his copy of Rockers Meet King Tubby in a Firehouse. I was nuts about records and music from a very early age. My parents had a great record collection and I could place 45s and 78s in their generic company sleeves before I could even read. By the time I was four years old I was obsessed with playing singles. In fact, the oldest living example of my handwriting, actually a scribble, is on a Tony Bennett single my dad bought in 1963 – it was also my first experience of entering a shop that sold records. My mum came from a large family and my parents and aunts and uncles were always throwing parties. My cousins had amazing records, too, and had quite eclectic tastes. So apart from the usual pop stuff, I was also hearing jazz and soul and folk and funk and reggae and country. My first musical obsession, apart from the Beatles, of course, was the Tamla Motown record label. I adored The Supremes, The Temptations, The Four Tops, The Miracles. All of them!

I was introduced to reggae by my cousin Steve around 1968. His influence on my musical directions was massive. He was an avid soul collector, too. In 1973, we moved back to London, and during the following year I got the reggae bug. I was still at school. I was spending all of my pocket money on records. I used to frequent chapel market, just around the corner from where I was born, and listen to the reggae records, because, of course, it wasn’t getting any airplay on the radio. That changed, in 1975, with the introduction of a Saturday night show called TV on Reggae, which was on a relatively new London-based station called capital. The DJ was Tommy Vance, who wasn’t a reggae buff but a good DJ. He’d have various reggae sidekicks who knew their stuff visit the show. I used to always record the show on cassette tape – and one week there was a whole hour dedicated towards dub. This one show completely blew my mind. I had heard and owned b-side dubs and versions, but it was the first time I’d heard tracks taken from dub albums. I didn’t have a clue what most of the records were, because it was an uninterrupted session. No information was given about the chosen tracks, but it made things all the more exciting trying to find out what they all were over the next few years.

What was Black Echoes, and how did you end up publishing the list? In January 1976, a new weekly Black music newspaper was published in the UK, which featured soul, reggae, jazz and blues. I was 16 and had recently started my first job, an office junior for the institute of accounting in Bedford Square in London’s West End. A ten minute walk led to a reggae record shop in Hanway Street, the first ever in that part of London. It was called Daddy Kool. This became my lunchtime hangout, and even after work and on Saturdays. I would spend nearly all my wages on records. A few doors away was a soul record shop called Contempo that I also frequented. Dave Hendley worked in there, who went on to write the reggae column for Blues & Soul magazine and take some of the greatest photographs ever of reggae artists. Steve Barrow was my go-to at Daddy Kool for tracking me down tunes. He wrote the reggae singles reviews for Black Echoes.

When I did a couple of record reviews for New Musical Express, I was introduced to Penny Reel, whose writing on reggae I had come across in the reggae fanzine Pressure Drop. He introduced me to Black Echoes’ editor, Peter Harvey, who asked if I wanted to write for the paper. I was sixteen at the time and so I was up for it, even though I had no journalistic experience. I started to do album reviews and eventually did news stories and articles, live gig reviews, interviews and took over reviewing the reggae singles when Steve Barrow left. I quickly became a fixture at Black Echoes and was the baby of the family. My ambition was to write a few articles on one of my favourite genres of music, and it the first time there had been any kind of substantial listing released worldwide of dub albums. Did you have help? The content of the list was mainly researched and compiled by myself, but Penny Reel and others also helped with information about albums. Of course, in those days, there were no computers. It was a lot of legwork, traipsing around London to specialist record shops and record stalls in markets and trying to find those elusive dub albums. At that time, not many were being released in the UK, so it was mainly expensive Jamaican imports that I tried to track down, to listen to -- even if not to buy. A lot of the research was really about rummaging about in specialist record shops, junk shops, mail-order lists, record company advertisements, record reviews and my own record collection and those of other fans. Gradually the list of albums grew bigger and it seemed to come together, though it was often difficult to verify things. Of course, it didn’t help that I was on a deadline for publication. There were a few errors made as a consequence, but not that many.

Can you describe what makes dub so magical? For me, it's the mix of the improvisation of jazz, folk music's local tradition, and gospel's holiness. But it's hard to describe, isn't it? I think what initially fascinated me the most about dub was its fluidity and immediacy. Dub mixes are one-off attempts at recreating something new out of something previously recorded.

There is definitely something akin to jazz about dub, I suppose because mixing has that improvised feel to it, things can go either very right or very wrong. The unexpected twists and turns a dub track can take is very much like the unimaginable flights of fancy taken by Charlie Parker, John Coltrane, Jimmy Smith or even Jon Hendricks. I think the other-worldliness of dub is what makes it really magical. So many of the sounds are unlike any you’ve ever heard, at least in those early days of dub. there is also an affinity with disco which I was also heavily into during the late 70s, when producers and engineers like Shep Pettibone, Walter Gibbons, Larry Levan and the incredible Tom Moulton were laying down the foundations of dance music and experimenting with mixing in a new and vibrant way.

The heavyweight combustion between the sound of the crashing drums and the booming bass was also something that particularly appealed, and the use of echoed-vocals has always been something that has really made me sit up and listen.

I loved that Bunny Lee flying-cymbal sound. The crisp channel one rockers sound was something that as a young person I found really exciting. Lee Perry’s more technically experimental sound was perfect for dub and Augustus Pablo’s mellow, more mystical sound was so brilliant. There was some magical dub in the years after 1977. Do you have favorites? A few spring to mind. I loved Gussie’s Black Foundation Dub, Dennis Brown’s Umoja Dub, Gregory Isaacs’ Slum in Dub, Linval Thompson’s Negrea Love Dub. Nuh Skin Up Dub had some good tracks. Scientist Rids the World of the Evil Curse of the Vampires -- great title, great LP! I also should mention Captain Ganja & the Space Patrol. I came up with the concept and titles for Venture Records. My old school friend Marianne and her husband Steve designed the cover. They also did High Risk Dub and Lovers Dub. There have been some really great compilations as well: Termination Dub, Dub Gone Crazy, Dub Like Dirt, in fact all of those Blood and Fire dub comps are wicked. My old friend Steve Barrow on the case. Do you have any regrets about the list? Things that should have been on or off? I was only 18 at the time. What I got together, considering I’d never researched anything before, was pretty good for the time. I purposefully included albums which weren’t strictly dub albums, for example, instrumental albums and albums with both vocal and dub tracks. I think I did that because those radio dub specials also featured vocal tracks, it’s not something I would do now. However, if you excluded vocal tracks, then that would wipe super ape, which has killer dubs and vocals.

It would have been nice to include release dates on the list, but at that time there was pretty much no way of knowing what first appeared when. This is mainly because Jamaican record companies rarely put the year of release on a record. Even now, a site like Discogs is filled with errors on its inclusion of Jamaican dub albums, where contributors are just having a stab in the dark.

I would definitely have African Dub Chapter Three in the Top 10. It was listed 115 in the list! At the time, hardly anybody had heard it, and shops in the UK certainly couldn’t get hold of it. It didn’t enter the black echoes UK reggae LPs chart as an import until October 1977, nearly three months after I’d compiled the list, when sufficient copies started entering the country. Within four weeks, it was the no. 1 album, and remained on the charts as a Jamaican import for an amazing 35 weeks. The opening track chapter three was a sound-system steppers tune favourite that has lit reggae dance floors pretty much ever since.

With regards to my original top 20, I think it’s pretty good. I still love most of those albums. their order I would maybe juggle around, I think either King Tubby Meets the Rockers Uptown or King Tubby Meets the Aggrovators at Dub Station, or even Pick a Dub would deserve to be at the top spot. Later I realized dub station was a UK issue of the Jamaican release Creation of Dub with different titles, the latter appearing at 41 on the list. That turned out to be a bit of an issue. It was impossible to know whether a UK release was a new one or a Jamaican one under a different title, for example Ja-gan was also known as Morris on Dub.

Who are the producers you return to over and over? For me, it's Scratch, King Tubby, the Dub Specialist series -- and, post-1977, the wonderful Scientist. I am still a huge fan of Bunny Lee’s productions. He was ridiculously prolific, of course, but I rather liked that. In 1975, he must have issued around 40 singles by Johnny Clarke alone. I loved that 1974-76 period of his music.

I can always return quite happily to listen to Lee Perry productions as well. He was always so inventive and creative and groundbreaking, really. He most definitely was a true artist in the artistic sense of the word, pushing music beyond its boundaries to create sounds that were truly unusual and magnificent. An innovator. I first heard Blackboard Jungle round Steve Barrow’s place in 1976, and it blew me away. Revolution Dub is still a classic for me. I love that it features snippets from a popular British TV comedy of the time, Doctor on the Go. The dub of Jimmy Riley’s version of Bobby Womack’s Woman’s Gotta Have It is exceptional, too.

I think Niney the Observer is an often overlooked producer. Dubbing with the Observer and Sledge Hammer Dub remain real favourites of mine. What has the response to your list been like over the years? After 1977, the list was pretty much forgotten, and things remained that way for decades. I was proud of it at the time, but never considered it to be anything more than an opportunity for me to compile and rate the dub music I loved. I certainly never thought of it, or looked at it. It never occurred to me that anyone would read it ever again.

The advent of the world wide web changed all that. I think it was during the early 2000s when I first became aware that scans of the list were starting to appear. Frankly, I was astonished. The websites that featured it were mainly music forums and reggae sites. Obviously the list came in for some criticism regarding the positioning of some of the records. African Dub Chapter Three was a particular bone of contention, with detractors saying I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about, as I had it so far down the list. And no one agreed with my choice of King Tubby Meets the Upsetter at the Grass Roots of Dub as the no. 1 album. But it was the first dub album I bought when I was 16, and so it meant something special to me. Hindsight is a tremendous but dangerous thing.

But the positivity about the list far outweighed the negativity. Lots of people have expressed their pleasure in reading it, so I am well chuffed about that. Sly Dunbar put the list on his Facebook page fairly recently. He played on a lot of those albums! it has also been a joy to discover and read other people’s dub lists, and I thoroughly enjoyed Martin ‘Sky Juice’ Blomqvist’s recent book 100 Days of Dub. He’s so knowledgeable and his enthusiasm is infectious. I've been able to find almost all of the records, but there are some entries that confuse me: King Tubby's Vengeance, Prophets Bootleg Dub, ABC Dub, Sir Collins in Session, Ja Man in Dub, and Aquarius Dub 2. You’re right, Aquarius Dub 2 doesn’t seem to exist. it could be that it was planned and shelved, as a few on the list might have been forthcoming releases that were never issued in the end. And there were quite a few Vivian Jackson albums about at the time with similar titles, which could be confusing. What have you been doing these last few decades? I’m always dabbling one way or another. Whilst working for reggae record companies back in the 70s I got involved with singing and made a few recordings. I became lifelong friends with British lovers rock group Natural Mystic, so have sung and arranged backing vocals on quite a few of their records down the decades. For the past 25 years or so I have been working with young people on films, concerts, recordings, dance projects, self-development and community productions. My writing necessarily diverged into creating scripts and composing lyrics. And for many years I have been researching and compiling a book I’m calling Celebrate Good Times: 20th Century Soul, Reggae and Dance Music, which analyses 24 years of charts. It is a real labour of love: there are over 5000! I’ve also been writing a novel these past couple of years, which I’m finding challenging but quite rewarding.

Could you pick one single song, the greatest dub of all time? It is a fight between two records: King Tubby Meets the Rockers Uptown by Augustus Pablo and the flipside of I Admire You by Larry Marshall, King Tubby’s immense Watergate Rock. Either would be contenders for the greatest dub of all time. I love them equally. On my millionth read of the list I noticed this: “Snoopy has decided to extend his survey of dub into a six part series.” The whole series was entitled The Story of Dub. the people at Black Echoes were pretty amazing. They really encouraged and indulged me. The first part was published in July 1977, and was written in collaboration with my mentor, Penny Reel. He was pivotal in developing my writing and expanding my general viewing of life itself. We wrote The Roots of Dub together, and it was his influence and incredible writing that made that opening salvo so special. The list came next: Rubbin’ the Dub. The third part, More Rubbin’ the Dub, focussed on dub versions on 45. Dub Fix 50 included imports, basically just favourites of mine from my own record collection. I also invited other writers such as Chris Lane, a true pioneer in writing about reggae, Hendley, who also provided me with great photos, and Penny posing as Scotty Bennett, to submit a list of their top three dub 45s and single favourite dub album. In part four, The Routes of Dub, I wrote about 12-inch singles and provided readers with an opportunity to commission their own mixes for dub plates from Silver Camel, who remixed records; Step Forward Youth was all about young sound systems. And in mid-August was Dub Conclusion/Confusion, the end to the series. The whole thing was fun to write. But the list was my favourite part, as I love a list.

-Max Abelson

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arrivalation · 3 years

Text

2020: An Account

This year has been a nonstop, off-the-rails bullet train ride into what looked at first like chaos, but ultimately was a tearing down and reconstruction of my entire being. Because I know myself and I know I won’t remember much of this later, I’m recording it here. It’s hard to put some of this information out, but the universe regularly urges me to be more open. So here I go.

January

I got married.

It was, without contest, the absolute best day of my life. I’ve known since I was real little that I wanted to be married, that I wanted to be loved the way M loves me and to love someone just as much. I don’t know how to explain the feeling of having achieved that, and being able to share that with my entire circle. @abyssalsun made it down!! (my only regret is that @ladyoriza couldn’t make it, but I’m still so glad we got to make it to theirs). As often as I can, I revisit the memory of going to @chromecutie’s house afterward, thinking it’d just be the four of us there, and opening the door to find a whole impromptu surprise party happening. Everyone cheered for us when we came in. I played CAH with Mordred, my brother and his wife, and several friends from out of town. By all accounts, these people would never have been in the same room together, but they were, and it was transcendent. It’s been almost a year, and I still haven’t recovered from all the planning and stress; but now that I’m past it, I can say with relief that it was 100% worth it.

February

We bought a house.

Up until this point, I’d been planning a wedding, participating in house-buying stuff as best I could, interviewing for a job I ended up not taking, and dealing with life-long mental illness that was festering and reaching critical mass. But then stuff started wrapping up. The wedding happened. The house was ours. We moved in. I could finally fucking breathe. LMAO bitch you thought.

March

The pandemic reached us.

I guess by this point it had probably already been in the US for a couple months, idr. But it wasn’t until March that things really started happening. People started dying in droves. New cases spread like wildfire. I remember thinking that this would be the zombie apocalypse, because at this point, I don’t think the CDC knew much about the virus. In my anxious mind, that was a completely reasonable assumption. My boss had us all start working from home. We all thought it’d be just a couple weeks.

April

I settled into working from home.

It didn’t take me long to get used to it, maybe a week. I hadn’t yet gotten used to my new hour-long commute from the new house to work, and so working from home quickly became my new normal. But I didn’t know yet why working from home was so good for me. All I knew was that I now had the brain-space to process things. I had the energy to do yoga and cook and do hobbies, and the time to appreciate and care for the home I lived in. I could think more clearly because there was no one else around to distract me. There was sunlight I could bask in. I felt human for once, and that became vitally important and infinitely valuable to me. Despite that, I still struggled with extreme anxiety, panic attacks, and some of the worst depression I’ve suffered through since I was a teenager. Outside my house, everything was a fucking mess and no one had their shit together.

May

I went back to the office for a few weeks.

There was a lull in pandemic activity. My boss had us all start coming back to the office again. At this point, I couldn’t make heads or tails of reality anymore. Everything was changing, nothing was stable. I desperately needed to stay working from home, because that was the one thing that felt Good and Right, but I had no real argument other than, 'I just need to.' So imagine me, at this point a soggy, run-over sloppy joe, attempting to return to normal. As you might think, it was... bad. I cried and hurt all the time. I think I really freaked out my boss with the way I reacted to coming back to the office. But then the second wave hit, and we all went back to working from home again.

June

Uncle Mike died on the first day of the month.

My uncle had been sick for a while, but no one was expecting him to die so suddenly. None of us were ready for it.

I also died that day.

It might sound dramatic, but I mean it quite literally and honestly. Over the years, I had gained suspicion that I was on the autism spectrum. M graciously found me a psychiatrist that took my insurance (and happened to be right next door). I wasn’t even going in for that - I was seeking treatment for my anxiety and depression. But I had amassed a (very long) list of my symptoms, and I brought it with me and read it to my doctor. I wasn’t even a quarter of the way through the list when he stopped me. I’m paraphrasing here, but in effect, he said, “No, yeah, you’re definitely autistic.”

I remember the way my body felt. Like someone had detonated a bundle of TNT in my chest, and I was burning from the inside out. At the time, I didn’t realize this emotional immolation was purposeful and executed by the universe to get rid of this old structure and build a newer, better, stronger one. For about fifteen seconds after he said that, I was relieved that it had been that easy, that there was an explanation for everything that my ADHD didn’t explain. It made a ton of sense why my environment was so important to me. And then I felt something unnameable. It was obvious to my doctor that I was autistic. Had it been obvious to everyone else? Why hadn’t it been obvious to me? I read the rest of my symptoms to him in a daze. I don’t remember how the rest of the appointment went.

And then I burned quietly and ungracefully until I was a pile of ashes. I didn’t know this at the time, but apparently it’s common for newly-diagnosed autistic people to have such dramatic and painful reactions, especially if they weren’t well-informed on the condition. Which I wasn’t.

I started therapy.

I also started learning about my “flavor” of autism. It was arduous, embarrassing, isolating, and ugly. I became aware that I had been masking my whole life, and I was astounded by just how often I did so. What really crushed me was knowing that I’d always have to mask to protect myself. I also became hyper-aware of the things that made me Feel Bad. Inexplicably, I stopped being able to react to those things the way I used to. Previously, if something made a loud and unexpected sound, I would suppress my reaction, because it’s not cool to get mad about it. But I found I couldn’t do that anymore. I had no choice but to react the way I needed to react. I realize now that this was to make me aware of what things make me feel a certain way so I can either avoid them or learn better tools to deal with them.

The therapist I saw wasn’t specialized in autism, and she wasn’t any help in that area, but she did teach me some important things. Like, “Is it reasonable for me to feel ____?”

July

Black hole.

I don’t remember a whole lot from this month, except sifting my own ashes through my fingers and crying. Every day brought a new revelation, a new thing that clicked. All of it was helpful and very painful. My psychiatrist recommended medication, but I’d had a bad and long-lasting experience with medication as a teenager, so I suffered through the pain on my own.

I shouldn’t have. I got so low I didn’t want to be alive anymore. But I think it took reaching the bottom and feeling that much pain for me to get over my fear of pharmaceuticals.

I got into astrology.

I had been interested in it for most of my life, but it wasn’t until this point that I started studying it in depth. I discovered it was a language that I could use to translate so many things about my own life that I didn’t understand. It was a rulebook in a time when I desperately needed rules - but one just flexible enough that it taught me how to stop thinking in binary.

August

I got medicated.

There was a big adjustment period, of course. It didn’t cure me. But it did start to make things easier. And it helped to know that, even if I didn’t believe it at the time, I deserved to rest. I deserved not to feel so much emotional pain all the time.

I turned 30.

It was easily the second best day of my life. I learned a lot of important things, like that it’s important to be present, that I’m seen and loved (just the way I am!!), and that I deserve good things. M planned a whole day of surprises:

I woke up at my leisure and we had coffee on the couch. He got me a cute card with one of our inside jokes inside - I still have it.

We went to our favorite combination lunch place and bakery, which I believe was our first real outing since the pandemic started.

We stopped by a tattoo place. I almost got a tattoo.

He set me loose in Texas Art Supply.

We got dim sum for dinner.

We had a lovely virtual cocktail hour with @chromecutie.

He bought me an ipad!!

I became Spiritual™.

I had been agnostic for the past decade or so, slowly and subtly slipping into nihilism, without realizing how detrimental those ideas were to me. I’m not sure what I thought spirituality was before, but I wasn’t into it. I had always rolled my eyes at people who talked about “a higher power”, auras, and spirit guides, until I became that person.

My psychiatrist introduced some powerful ideas to me, ones that meshed well with my previously-existing idea of how the universe worked. I won’t get into details here. That’s a whole other post. Ask me though - I’d love to talk about it.

Anyway, I started (intermittently) meditating. I learned some exceptionally powerful stuff. I felt my scaffolding being erected.

September

I started learning who I am and why I am this way.

I started seeing a new therapist. She thinks like me. She follows my erratic, forking trains of thought. She sees me and offers real, actionable feedback and solutions. Working with her, I’ve gained the ability to see my life from a 30,000-foot view. I can see now why I’ve felt so lonely my whole life. I understand how my family’s dysfunction has shaped me. I know now that I have the opposite of a victim complex - by default, I believe I am so awful that I feel sorry for everyone who has to deal with me. Because that’s what I was taught to believe. Learning that I deserve to take up space, set boundaries, say no, and be wrong sometimes is still a hard lesson for me. But most days, I believe it now. It takes other people believing it and convincing me. I still need that reassurance often.

My parents sold my childhood home.

Mentally, emotionally, I still lived there. I was still the inverted victim, still beholden to my stepdad’s whims and my mom’s complete cognitive dissonance. This was a blinking neon sign from the universe that it was time to move out. My mom told me when the closing date was so I’d have time to drive down and look at the house one last time. I didn’t go, and I still don’t regret it.

I started learning my boundaries.

After my spiritual move-out, I learned I don’t have to jump when my stepdad holds out the little circus hoop. When he otherwise shows zero interest in my life but still baits me with passive-aggressive texts, I don’t have to answer!! What a concept! I don’t have to feel guilty for not talking to my mom more than I do. We have very little in common, and I still have a lot of things to work through regarding her.

I learned how not to be so reactive.

Or rather, I’m still learning. Something else I learned in therapy is that over the course of my life, I’ve developed a desperate need to defend myself and to justify every action or thought I have, even to myself. It’d been especially troubling at work. My RSD led me to felt stupid, incompetent, and unseen daily; if my boss complimented someone, I believed it also meant he thought I was stupid and bad and wrong, otherwise he would have complimented me too. If my boss said something that even remotely sounded like I’d done something wrong, I’d race to build an impenetrable defense: “This is the reason I did that. Here’s my line of thinking. Do you understand? Can you please understand?”

Now I know that so little of what everything everyone says or does at work is about me. I can appreciate a coworker’s accomplishment and also realize it doesn’t take away anything from me. I’m not stupid or incompetent, and I’m a valuable part of the team. A lot of times, my boss and I are on two different wavelengths - that’s because I think a lot faster, which can be frustrating for him sometimes. He doesn’t fully understand me, but that doesn’t mean I’m doing anything wrong.

October

I let go of an old friend.

This was especially hard, because I had known this person for years. We’d gone through a lot together, and we’d shared some really important and emotional story plots and characters. I had agonized over whether I was truly important to her or not. It didn’t matter how much I loved her as a friend, or how badly I wanted us to be close again and remain close. I had learned to read the universe’s signs, and it was clear it was time to move on.

November

The election happened.

I was expecting things to turn out badly, but I still hoped for something good. And then something good did happen. I cried watching Harris’ speech. I felt a tenuous hope that things might finally start looking up, societally. I still haven’t really let myself fully embrace that hope, but every time I see a court shoot down another lawsuit, or hear about trump’s own conservative republican supporters tell him, “Okay, buddy, it’s time to step down,” I feel a little better.

M and I went non-monogamous.

There’s so much I want to say about this, but it’s for another post. Suffice it to say that like every other experience this year, it has been unexpectedly challenging and ultimately a catalyst for priceless growth. I’m unfathomably grateful that we’re doing this together, for the things we’ve learned so far, and for how much closer this experience has made us, even when I didn’t think we could get any closer.

Turns out I’m not gray-ace.

I had identified as such for a couple years, which was why we wanted to try non-monogamy in the first place. On the surface, it perfectly explained my sexual personality. But every time I told someone my identity, I felt inexplicably sad. When I read about others having “normal” sex drives and “normal” relations with their spouses, I felt jealous.

Turns out I’m just traumatized, lol. Walking along this non-mono path has unearthed a lot of things, including this gem.

December

This was our first married christmas in our new house.

One of the handful of good things the pandemic has done for me was allowing me to back up my boundaries with hard evidence. It’s been difficult dealing with my stepdad bullying me about not coming over for thanksgiving, and having my mom subtly guilt me into making plans for next year already. But what I needed this year was a quiet holiday, instead of the usual weeks-long chaos, and I got it. And it was fucking delightful. I’ve dreamed of days exactly like that one - spending a tranquil morning with my spouse, sipping coffee and listening to music and eating treats. Deciding exactly how we want our holidays to be, because we deserve to.

I’m scared of what’s to come in the new year. I’m still an anxious mess, and some days I’m not strong enough to pull myself out of the spirals I throw myself into. I’ve gotten used to the pandemic holding my hand, allowing me to shelter in my home, helping me enforce my boundaries, teaching me who I am. When it’s over, I don’t know what will happen or how I’ll react or what I’ll learn next. I’m not finished rebuilding, but I don’t think that’s the point. I’ll never be fully rebuilt. But at least I’m figuring out the new layout.

#personal #void-Avatar

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

Highland Destiny Chapter 5 ~Dinner for Two~

They were standing in the middle of the lounge, suspended in time and space, between heaven and earth, looking into one another's eyes. Claire's hand was still in Jamie's, his fingers generating tiny sparks that surged erratically through her body, fanned into a flame with just a little pressure of touch. His eyes, dark with wanting, bore into her soul, sending delicious heat to her core. She felt the sudden rush of blood to her head as her heart raced, scattering all logic and reasoning into some unknown dark abyss. She tried to summon a memory from the past; Frank, Oxford, the hospital corridors, her parents, uncle Lamb... anything to keep her from drowning into Jamie's deep blue. But it was futile. She was falling, dropping, slipping, but she had no idea into where.

The electrically charged interlude was interrupted by the sound of ringing from Claire's iPhone, jarring them from their trance and making them both blink. " Dhia !" Jamie murmured under his breath as his hand released Claire's, to rub the nape of his neck.

Ding! Ding! Saved by the bell.

O' sweet Lord Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Ding ding indeed!

Regaining a tiny bit of composure, Claire reached behind the back pocket of her jeans, extracting her phone. "I need to take this," she whispered hoarsely, barely audible.

He nodded and motioned with his hands towards the doorway as he made his way to the kitchen. She nodded back with an apologetic smile.

Seeing the image of the caller on her phone, Claire momentarily forgot Jaime and what just transpired. "Geillis, darling!"

"Hiya chick! How are you daein'? O' my God, o' my God ah heard from Joe yoo're in town. Sae, ye moved here for good?" answered an animated woman's voice in broad Glaswegian.

" Absobloodylootely – YES! Oh God, it's so good to hear your voice, Geillis. We ought to meet up as soon as possible. Listen, are you free Friday night? If so, let's catch up then. It has been bloody ages!"

"Och this is so excitin'! Aye definitely, let's meet up. Maybe Joe will come too. Ah cannae wait tae see you and show you our shop. By th' way, what's wrang wi' ye? Ye sound like ye hae bin runnin'. 'Tis a bad time?"

Claire twisted backwards to peek through the doorway. She saw Jamie leaning over the sink, splashing water to his face and neck and felt the heat crept up her own. "Well, kind of. Look, sorry to make this short but got to go. I promise to call you first thing tomorrow. Is Scotch & Rye Pub on Friday at 7 ok? I've been told that its the place to be. We can grab some fish and chips if you fancy."

"Brilliant, sorted! Scotch & Rye pub it is then Friday at 7! Ah cannae wait. An', och, Claire...you hae a laddie there wi' ye?" She can almost see her friend's cheeks dimpling and giving a wicked wink.

"Sod off, Geillis!" She always knows, the bloody cow! With that, Claire turned off her phone.

Although she was so thrilled to hear from her friend, the call was a welcomed distraction. Geillis was one of her closest mates in Oxford in medical school. And along with Joe, they were the three Musketeers in the campus until Geillis dropped out. In the earlier days, she developed an interest in Alternative Healing after joining a movement against big pharmaceutical companies; hence, she left her medical studies and followed her boyfriend to Inverness to set up a health and herb shop.

Claire was staring at the phone in her hand when Jamie walked back in. He leaned on the doorway, smiling, his breadth blocking the light from the corridor. "Hey, Sassenach. Shall we start dinner?"

She smiled back. "Sure!" And she followed him to the kitchen taking his outreached hand.

..........

In the next half hour, Claire busied herself with dinner's preparation while Jamie chopped the shallots and washed the chanterelles. Still rattled from earlier, she carefully stirred their conversation onto something neutral and avoided eye contact, but working in such a small area, touching was unavoidable. A couple of times, he had to place his hands on her hips as he navigated narrow spaces, and his mere touch sent bolts of heat coursing through her body. But with his laid-back and relaxed manner, it wasn't long before they were back to bantering and joking. Once the chanterelles had been sauteed, and the rice and shallot simmering in broth and wine, she left him to continue cooking while she washed and changed.

Drying herself after a quick shower and shave, Claire was very conscious of Jaime in the other room. Just knowing that he was there under the same roof was enough to make her heart do somersaults. She could hear him moving about as the wooden floors creaked and the pots and pans banged. For a very big man, he looked right at home and comfortable working in the kitchen.

In her bedroom, she looked for something to wear but looking into her wardrobe, there wasn't really a lot of choices. Well, it's only Jamie anyway, it's not like it's a date!

Well Beauchamp, ready for round 2? Ding! Ding!

Wot round 2? There will be no round 2.

So why did you shave your legs?

Rubbish! I always shave my legs.

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

Annoyed with herself, she decided to put on a pair of black leggings, an over-sized sweatshirt emblazoned, OXFORD and white woollen socks. She twisted her hair to the top of her head and fastened it with a hair clasp after giving up on taming her wayward curls. Looking into the mirror, she scrunched her nose and poked her tongue out.

Ok, Beauchamp, let's do this!

Do what?

Get laid?

Not gonna happen.

But you want to.

I do not!

Liar, Liar, Pants on fire!

Sod off!

Satisfied with her reflection, she went to the kitchen.

When Claire walked in, Jaime was in the process of opening a bottle of Chablis. He gave her one of those heart-dropping smiles as he took in the sight of her. His eyes travelled up and down, lingering for a moment at her breast. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Can he tell I don't have a bra? She quickly reached down to touch the hem of her sweatshirt to check its thickness. Taking it as an awkward moment, Jamie reached out and guided her to the table, placing a hand on the small of her back. The scent of her favourite food made her stomach growl ferociously. He must have heard her belly rumble. "Hungry Sassenach? he said with a grin.

She was pleasantly surprised to see that Jamie did make himself at home. There was nothing else for her to do: the table was set, the green salad dressed, her flowers haphazardly arranged in the vase and placed on a side table, and he even had a few of her scented candles burning. In the background, she could hear L-O-V-E song by Nat King Cole playing softly in the lounge. In spite of her nervousness, she couldn't help but smile. Maybe the hunger was getting the better of her.

"Very hungry, indeed!" she replied. Then cocking her head, she exclaimed, "Oh my God, Jaime, you have Uncle Lambs record player working! Sorry, I don't have any sound system set up yet. It's been a hectic during the last few days. There's still a lot of things I need to do with this house."

"Och, dinna fash Sassenach. I love old music and light jazz. We still have my grand parent's record player in our family home, and occasionally, we play some of my ma's collections for 'ol time sake. I hope you dinna mind me going through your uncle's records."

"No of course not, that's what it's there for. Maybe after dinner, we can go through some and listen to some old jig."

"That's grand, Sassenach!" He took her hand and kissed the inside of her palm.

Over the next couple of hours, Jamie and Claire got better acquainted over Rissotto and wine. As the evening progressed, Claire began to relax and enjoy herself as they exchanged stories about their families and life. She found Jamie charming, and like most Scots, he was born a storyteller. He spoke of his late parents and his sister in Lallybroch where he grew up, and in return, she reciprocated in kind and spoke of her travels to archaeological sites with Uncle Lamb and what she can remember of her parents.

After dinner, they moved to the lounge to listen to records. While Jamie lit up the log burner and prepared the whisky and tumblers, Claire fixed a tray of strawberries and cream and coffee. Claire couldn't help notice how at ease Jamie was - he looked like he's lived in Uncle Lamb's cottage forever. For the first time she arrived in Inverness, Claire felt at home, and she wondered if it had to do with Jamie.

..........

Three-quarters of the whisky bottle later, Jamie and Claire collapsed on the floor, spent from laughing so much, after attempting to dance the can-can to Sinatra's "New York, New York." Jamie was a terrible dancer, and Claire couldn't help but giggle her way through the routine. After a few more twirls and twists, they decided to call it a night. She didn't want the evening to end, but it was getting rather late.

Claire got up from the floor and holding up an almost empty bottle in the air, she announced, before slumping on the sofa, "Ok, Jamie, last drink. I'm totally knackered."

Jamie followed suit, but instead of sitting beside her, he sat down on the coffee table facing her. He reached out and took her hands between his own. This time, there was no hint of seduction or suggestion of flirt. "Sassenach, thank ye so much for a lovely evening. I've never laughed so much in my life, but I will need a taxi, I canna drive back home in my state," he said with a slight slur.

"Rubbish, you can stay here, there's plenty of room. I won't have you driving after drinking so much, and you can have my bed, it's the biggest in the house. I'll take the guest room," Claire insisted. She tried to stand up but swayed a bit. As she regained her balance, she looked up at him and smiled. "And Jaime, I had a wonderful time too. Thank you." Claire got on her tip-toes and gave Jamie a kiss on the cheek before swaggering backwards. She giggled. "Ooops."

"Weel, if ye don't mind, then I don't mind either." Jamie slightly unsteady on his feet, caught Claire by the elbows and laughed.

Claire peered into the almost empty bottle of whisky and poured the rest in each of the tumblers. "Good! That's settled then. And no, I don't mind at all. Last drink?" she said, handing a glass to Jaime.

"Aye." And raising his glass, he made a toast. "Slange var Sassenach!"

Claire wobbling on her feet managed to raise her glass, laughing. "Cheers mate!"

After downing their whisky, Claire handed the glasses and empty bottles to Jamie. "Right, I'll go and get some fresh sheets, and you can bring these in the kitchen. Then off to bed."

"To bed or to sleep?" he asked mischievously with a glint in his eyes.

"Ha-ha,"

Claire hurried to the bedroom, slightly zig-zagging as she made her way. That last remark from Jamie made her conscious of him all over again. Damn you, Jaime! As she was getting some fresh linens from the cupboard, she heard a thump and glasses falli

"Jamie, are you alright?" She went quickly to the kitchen and found Jamie taking off his shirt stained with wine. On the floor were shards of glass and spilt leftover wine.

"Och sorry Sassenach, I'm not familiar with your house, and I forgot you had boxes laid there. I tripped over them."

Claire thinking he might be still shaky on his feet due to intoxication, pulled him away from the broken glasses. "It's alright, Jamie. Just stand back a little please." After cleaning up, she went over to him to see if he had a cut. "Let me see you hands Jamie."

"Dinna fash Sassenach, it's just a wee cut." He held up his thumb, and she saw there was a shard sticking out. She quickly went to her first aid kit drawer, to get a tweezer, iodine and some cotton. It was a small cut, but the shard had to be taken out.

Holding Jaime's thumb to the light, she pulled the glass out from the cut, and fresh blood started to flow. Without thinking, as if it was the most natural thing to do, Claire put his thumb to her mouth to suck the blood. Oh, sweet Mother Mary, what did I just do? She only came to her senses when she felt Jaime drew a sharp intake of breath. She felt embarrassed. Feeling idiotic and foolish, Claire didn't dare look up to Jaime and slowly released his hand. Head bowed, she realised he had taken off his shirt after forgetting about it for a moment. As her eyes wandered to his naked torso, she noticed his hard washboard abs and the movement of his breathing. On the hollow of his navel, ran a trail of dark reddish-gold hair that disappeared into his jeans. The thought of running her finger on that trail made the insides of her legs quiver. The skin on her face and neck turned hot. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, what have I done, and what am I thinking?

"Sassenach, are you alright?" Jaime said softly as he lifted her chin to look him in the eye. What she saw in Jaime's eye was a concern, instead of his usual mischief. She can only nod, too aware of Jamie's naked torso "You dinna need to be scairt of me - I wouldna force me on you." He paused, taking her hand. "But I would verra much like to kiss you. Would you mind?"

Point of no return, she swallowed. "No Jaime, I wouldn't mind." She paused and then continued, her voice sounding raspy to her ears. "Please kiss me," Then she placed her cool hands on his hard abdomen.

The moment, Claire touched him, he felt his body was on fire. He thought of the other women in his life in the past, Louise, Geneva, Annalise, Laoghair e, and looking back, he realised how shallow they have been. The sex was always a welcome release, but beyond that, there was nothing. With Claire, everything came naturally; he was himself, he can laugh, and most of all, she was herself. He looked down at the woman before him but still found himself confused with what he was feeling.

Jaime, staring into Claire's golden caramel eyes, slowly lowered his head, one hand behind her neck and the other on her waist, pulling her against him. Their lips met, just the lightest touch, but it was enough to send electricity sparks across every nerve ending. It was just a grazing of lips, but he was shaken to the core. He pulled away, his heart hammering, taking shallow breaths. He looked at Claire's beautiful face, her eyes were closed and her lips lightly parted. Dhia! Unable to contain himself, he pulled her back once more, this time into a more passionate and intense kiss. He gently thrust his tongue to the opening of her mouth, parting them to delve inside, teasing and probing until she made whimpering sounds. Her own kisses became hot and urgent, her arms snaking around his neck while her fingers ran through his hair, and this made him kiss her harder more. Standing on tiptoes, she pressed her body closer, crushing her breast against his hard chest, sending pleasures down his groin and making Jamie groan.

They pulled away for air, and Jamie searched Claire's face. "Sassenach, I want ye so much, I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?" His voice cracked.

He thought his heart would burst when she nodded.

Feeling emboldened, Jamie then hoisted Claire on to the kitchen counter and clumsily pulled up her sweatshirt, releasing her hair from its clasp and revealing her white breasts. Her curly mass came tumbling down, and Jamie ran his hands through them, raining her neck with urgent kisses and nibbling her earlobes. " Mo Nighean Donn," he whispered. Her legs automatically wrapped themselves around his waist, and she arched her back as an invitation, Jamie's Gaelic endearments making her wild. "Christ Claire, ye are so beautiful!" Jamie whispered in a ragged voice.

Claire moaned loudly as he lowered his head to suckle at each breast, paying homage to each erect nipple. Then his tongue started its frenzied exploration on her skin as his hands tugged at the waistband of her leggings. Once released from the constriction of clothing, Claire said in a husky voice, "Take off your pants, I want you now."

Seeing Claire exposed on the kitchen counter with her legs apart, was enough to drive Jamie wild with lust. He quickly unbuckled his belt and lowered his jeans without taking his eyes off Claire. Relieved of his jeans, he gathered her into a crushing embrace, his hands fondling her round arse, pressing his hardness against her. Her hips started to rotate, wrapping her legs tighter. He reached down between her thighs, and the feel of her slippery wetness made him groan and grab her thighs even tighter. "Jamie, I want you inside me, please."

Hearing the plea, Jamie lifted her with ease, spreading her legs as he pinned her against the wall. Without a word, he plunged his cock into her wetness. Jamie silenced her cries with a hard kiss thrusting his tongue in the same rhythm as his cock. After a moment, breathing hard, he released her lips, biting and kissing her neck, his hands tightening their hold on her arse as he rammed into her, slamming Claire's back against the kitchen wall. She whispered "harder," and "deeper" as she bit him hard on the neck, which drove Jamie to the edge. He did as she asked and more. As Claire let out a loud cry, her body began to convulse, making his balls tighten. Finding his own abrupt rush of release, Jamie arched his back as he thrust one last time and let out a grunt.

They held each other for a long while, not speaking, not moving. Eventually, Jamie carried Claire to her bed. She was limp in his arms. As he laid her down, he slipped in under the duvet with her and gathered her close to him. They fitted perfectly. And then he whispered softly, tha gaol agam ort mo chridhe.

#melodyheart #highlanddestiny #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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connorspiracy · 4 years

Text

Roasted and Ghosted || Connor & Rio

Timing: Current Location: Abandoned shack in the woods Description: Connor and Rio go ghost bustin’. Warnings: Ghosties

Orion hadn’t exactly decided what he was doing here. On one hand, his goal had partially been to determine whether this guy was for real or just try to use ghost hunting for fame or that thing other kids were saying these days…. Clout. But on the other hand, Rio had always been intrigued by those ghost hunting shows. Though he had never had the courage to watch them by himself at night or anything, trying to determine which ones may be legit or which ones were obviously fake had been a type of research for him. Ghosts and spirits were not Rio’s main focus or even a big concern of his, so he considered this little outing more of a hobby or something.

He spotted Connor coming from afar, recognizing his face from the videos Rio had been binging ever since the two had made plans. The place Rio picked was one of the lesser known ones around town. Places like the Misery Manor and Strawford park that regularly did scary shows and ghost tours would have been too baiting. Just outside of town, Rio stood many, many feet away from a large abandoned house that Rio had heard horror stories about growing up. Kids in school growing up regularly dared other students to hang out around the abandoned property, and sometimes Rio would hear the kids in his college classes brag about hopping the fences and trying to break into the house. This wasn’t Rio’s thing at all. In fact, a few months ago Rio would have gotten a good laugh out of the idea that he had just asked this semi popular and objectively very pretty youtuber to go to a haunted location together. His friend gang really had helped Rio come a long way.

Rio jumped up and down and waved at the guy as he lugged his equipment toward him. “Hey! You’re Connor! You look just like you do in your videos. Which makes sense. Because you’re you!” Maybe he was getting a little too excited about the idea of meeting a mini celebrity. “I’m Rio, nice to meet you in person. Do you need help carrying anything?”

It wasn't an unusual occurrence for Connor to meet up with people in the towns he visited, to be given tours, to have guides or people interested in contributing to his work. Rio hadn't been unique in the least, but that didn't mean Connor wasn't intrigued by him. Rio had offered to show him some cool places, and if there was anything Connor had learned over the last few years, it was that you couldn't overestimate the value of a local.

He really hadn't had the chance to settle into White Crest before Uncle Joe had gone full-on polter on his dad and Connor had needed to go home to London. He was intrigued by whatever Rio was going to show him. Based on what he'd said in their DMs, it wasn't somewhere you'd find out about on the town map.

"Alright, mate," Connor greeted, shaking Rio's hand. "Nice to meet you too." He handed Rio one of his cameras at his offer. "If you want to offer a hand, I might need some additional handheld shots, but I want to get some establishing stuff first. What's this place you wanted to show me?"

Orion grabbed onto the camera that Connor offered and fiddled with it for a minute, “Sure! I don’t have much experience with the stuff but I’m happy to help where I can.” He had watched a number of videos to get prepared, but it wasn’t until he started thinking about being with the Youtuber while he filmed that Rio realized just how much work must be put into each video. The number of cuts and changes in a video must have required multiple different shots and camera angles and takes. And that was just the groundwork filming at the location before going home to have to edit everything together. Rio was only getting a peek into the first portion of what went into making one of these videos. That didn’t make it any less fascinating.

“Yeah, definitely.” Rio waved his arms at the house behind him and began wracking his brain for the myriad of stories he had heard about the place. “Well, it’s a bit of a wild ride. This place has been abandoned since I was a little kid. And people have been talking about it for just as long.” Rio could barely remember the first story that he heard about the place because they seemed to blend together. “The general consensus is that a family died inside. But the rest of the story gets murky. Some people talk about seeing a woman in black and some say that they hear like little kids crying from one of the rooms. The stories aren’t all exactly consistent. I’ve never been brave enough to come here by myself to see if there’s any truth to it.” Rio laughed nervously and scratched at his neck, “But I figured if anyone knows what they’re doing I guess it would probably be someone who made a career out of it, right?”

At least this way Rio could hopefully get a good read on whether or not this guy was legit. Rio already knew how he was leaning. He had used words like medium and exorcist. Not exactly unknown words outside of people in the supernatural know, but it had still made Rio curious. If this guy was legit, at least Rio would know an exorcist. Having connections was always good. “When you say establishing stuff do you mean like, filming the outside of the property? Or are you going to record yourself talking about the place?”

"Just keep it steady and keep me in frame unless you're filming something else specific. Pretty much the basics," Connor said. Maybe if Rio was really interested in this stuff and he was any good, Connor would be able to have an actual camera-person again. "You ever done something like this before?" he asked, curious as to what had made Rio decide to take up this opportunity.

He listened as Rio spoke to him about the abandoned shack. The wood and brick was old and beginning to crumble. He could see rot and damage, evidence of weathering and bug activity. "Oh, sick," he said, probably a little insensitively as Rio explained the history of the place. "It's not uncommon for places to have their own local lore, rumors and stuff that start up. One thing we can do is check local records to see if there's anything officially on file."

He looked towards Rio with a smile. "Good question. The answer is both. But since you're the one who told me about the place, you can do the introduction, if you want."

Orion flipped the camera on and started spinning with it, trying to get a feel for it, “Got it!” He hoped he wasn’t completely awful with it, that last thing he wanted was to screw up any of Connor’s takes. “Uh, depends on what you mean I guess. I don’t know much about ghosts or spirits. I wasn’t even convinced they actually existed, if I’m being completely honest.” Not until Blanche at least, but Rio decided to keep things more vague for the moment. Rio wanted to remain a bit skeptical. He’s been told he has a habit of trusting people too easily. “But like I said I like to keep an open mind. And honestly all this history and supernatural stuff is super fascinating to me.”

Rio nodded, “Yeah, well obviously if you came here you must know that White Crest’s local lore is pretty intense.” The only perspective Rio had into that were stories he had heard from others that moved into town. Apparently, not every town had as many horror stories as this one did. But for someone that had never known anything different, this had all seemed so normal to Rio until he had gotten older. “Wait, really?” Rio couldn’t hide the excitement, bubbling up and forcing him to hop back and forth, “You look at local records and stuff like that?” He had to admit, this was already more convincing than some of the other shows he watched. Plus, who could turn down the idea of doing research? “That’s a great idea! I spend a ton of time at the local library. I can see if there’s anything they can pull for us!”

The offer actually took Rio aback for a moment. He was stunned at first by it, though it eventually developed more into stress as Rio thought deeper about it. He could feel his neck heating up and knew he was blushing from even considering the idea of him being in a Youtube video. “Oh uh- Wow. I mean I really appreciate the offer. Because that sounds really cool. I’m not much of a like… public speaker though. Even if there’s not a public right now. I know there will be a public. That’s terrifying. Does that not terrify you?”

God, if this kid broke his camera, Connor was going to flip his shit, but you had to give a little to get a little, so if this guy was going to help him out, Connor had to give him a chance. "What convinced you?" he asked, eyes bright and inquisitive as he looked at Rio. He liked hearing stories about people who had been skeptics and had changed their minds.

"White Crest's supernatural lore - if you wanna call it that - is exactly why I'm here." He snickered. "Usually I'd look up the records before I came to the building, but it's fun to shake things up. I like the surprise." The idea of being terrified of speaking in front of the camera was hilarious to him, and he gave a good natured laugh. "Nah. Never bothered me. Some people are more naturally inclined to it than others. I get that."

How did Orion explain his introduction into the supernatural? No, it was probably better to stick strictly to ghosts for the moment. Among the many horrors that Rio had seen and knew existed, ghosts had always been more elusive to him. He had proof of werewolves and fae. He had no proof that ghosts or spirits existed. So while he always kept an open mind, certainly not refusing to believe in them, he had kept a healthy amount of skepticism too. Maybe it was idealistic, hoping that maybe one horrifying thing people believed in actually was fake. “A good friend of mine has had experiences with them,” Blanche was like Connor, a medium. Or at least what Connor claimed to be. “I’ve never really had much experience by myself with ghosts, but she wouldn’t lie to me. So I believe her and I want to experience it for myself.” He shrugged. This wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was the closest thing to it that Rio was able to go with someone he barely knew.

“Yeah, fair. There’s uh- plenty of content to be had here. So are you just focused on like ghosts and spirits? Or anything supernatural? White Crest offers lots of stories of both.” Rio had to admit that he was impressed by Connor’s willingness to dive into what most would consider the more boring aspect of ghost hunting. Most seemed to go purely based on stories that fueled the ghost stories. It was nice to see that he actually wanted to dig a little deeper. “Well I’m happy to offer my help in that regard, if you want. Research is kinda my thing, y’know? History major and all.” It was easy to tell that the easy going demeanor that Rio saw on YouTube wasn’t an act, not completely at least. Connor seemed to have that ease in person too. Even his body language was more relaxed as opposed to Rio’s. “Yeah, haha. Awkward people probs, right?” He laughed nervously, cursing himself for not being more sociable. “But let me know what I can do, yeah? I’m willing to help with anything. I want to see what the whole process is like.”

"A friend, hm?" Connor began walking around the house, keeping his senses peeled for any sign of ghosts. There was nothing yet, but that didn't necessarily mean Rio was wrong about the hauntings. Maybe they were just shy. "Might be the same friend that I know." If there was more than one medium in town that he could liaise with, he'd want to know, but most people weren't exactly as open as Connor was.

"I'd say ninety per cent ghosts, ten per cent everything else." He'd probably record a voiceover for this footage so he could add any information they might find in the archives. "Great. Research buddy." He grinned over his shoulder. "Don't suppose you have the key?" His grin widened. "Or are we doing some good old-fashioned breaking and entering?"

“You know someone else that sees ghosts?” Orion questioned, running through the small list of people that Rio knew who was able to see ghosts. The very small list. But just because Rio only knew Blanche, that didn’t mean there weren’t others in town that could also see ghosts. For now, it was better not to bring her up. “That’s pretty cool. I can imagine that it can get sorta frustrating sometimes, seeing things that others can’t? So I’m sure it’s nice to have others that can.”

Ten percent everything else. That ten percent could give him a lot of content in a town like this. As long as he wasn’t too reckless and got himself hurt hunting it down. But trying to film the supernatural wouldn’t always land well with the ones trying to protect it’s secret. Which left a sort of conundrum that Rio had never considered before. Would hunter’s break their own code about protecting humans if it meant protecting the knowledge of the supernatural? Either way, it was probably better to make sure he kept an eye on these videos. To make sure he was safe. Rio gave an awkward thumbs up, “I think being your research buddy would be super cool.” Something told Rio that this wasn’t the first time that Connor had considered breaking and entering. Not that Rio could judge anymore, since he had done his fair share of it himself now. Rio tried the front door, the knob catching and refusing to budge. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. But Rio pressed against the door a little harder this time, shoving it until the lock cracked and the front door swung open, “Hmm. Guess it was rusted or something. Opened right up.” He laughed nervously, standing to the side and allowing Connor to get the first look inside. Rio couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

"Well, I know a few people through family contacts and networking and stuff, but one in White Crest." There were likely more, Connor knew. Zombies, vampires, banshees... but he only knew Blanche. "It's pretty validating to have someone who knows you're telling the truth. I spent ages thinking there was something wrong with me when I was a kid."

Rio decided to answer Connor with his actions rather than words. He tried the locks himself, but they didn't budge. Rio, however, was stronger than he looked. "Would it be unprofessional if I said that was pretty hot?" he said with a grin. Once the door was open, Connor started filming, getting some shots as he walked through the door. "So we just got in, and apparently my new friend Rio is the Hulk in disguise," Connor narrated, flipping the camera to Rio for a second to smile at him. He turned the camera back to the house, slowly exploring. "Hey, anyone home?" he called.

Orion considered what it would be like to not know anyone else that could see ghosts or spirits. Rio had grown up around people like him, at least genetically. Maybe his was the opposite extreme. Rio had spent most of his life wishing that he hadn’t grown up around other hunters. “I can’t say that I know exactly what that’s like. But it sounds pretty lonely. I’m familiar with that feeling.”

Rio’s face was on fire, and he could tell that it must be a bright shade of red. “Uhhhhhhhh” Rio drug that out for far too long as he tried to figure out how to reply to the compliment. “Thanks. I mean it doesn’t bother me. That’s very nice. And you’re very pretty. Like objectively pretty I mean.” Rio rambled, clearly not used to receiving any compliments like that. “I mean, I’m sorta dating someone right now. Now that you asked. Or that you were like flirting or anything. But just so you know. I’ll shut up now.” Please for the love of god, have Connor edit that part out of his filming. Luckily, Connor got right back to work filming the place as they walked inside, and Rio trailed behind him and held his own camera up to film as well. When Connor turned the camera towards Rio, he smiled and gave the screen a thumbs up. “So does that usually work for you? Asking if they’re home?” Rio asked curiously, wondering how many ghosts kept up with manners. Considering the two had just broken their door down, greetings probably wouldn’t be the first thing on their minds.

Connor turned the camera back on himself. “Do you hear that, lads, gals and non-binary pals? You heard it here. I’m objectively pretty.” He couldn’t hide his charming little smirk before he went back to filming the room. “Nah, not always, but I’m going into their place. It’s polite to announce myself, right?” He started slowly and carefully looking around the room for any signs of who might have lived here previously. Family pictures, old letters, things of that nature. Mostly all that was left was damp and rot. “We’re not here to do you any harm. My name’s Connor, and this is my mate Rio. We just want to say hello.”

A shiver ran down his spine. Where there would normally be some kind of outline of a person, all Connor could see was a vague shape, like someone had left the stove on. “Whoa.” He stepped back, getting a look at the viewfinder of the camera. “You see that? The orb. That’s one of them. But it’s not.. I mean they’re not… they’re just a shape.”

Orion accepted his fate of embarrassing himself in front of his new friend and the potential hundreds of thousands of viewers that watched his videos and resigned himself to focusing on the video instead of pondering that any further. He liked the ease that Connor talked while the camera was around, as if he was just talking to friends. He definitely had a lot of charisma that Rio wished he could channel. “Hey there” Rio called out into the house as a response to Connor introducing the two of them to the spirits.

Rio spun around at Connor’s sudden find and trained the camera towards the orb-like shape that floated across the house from them. Rio could feel goosebumps running along his arms, but tried his best to keep the camera steady as he slowly trailed behind Connor. Why could Rio see this? He didn’t know nearly enough about ghosts or spirits, clearly. He didn’t to find something in the Scribrary and start reading. Especially if he wanted to continue being friends with and helping Connor out. Rio took an instinctive step back, but managed to keep the camera pointed at the orb. “I hate this. Why is it just floating there?” Rio mumbled, worried that the ghost wasn’t that concerned with manners at all.

“You come here alone?” The voice was nothing more than a whisper, but it seemed to come from all directions. “Bold mistake.”

Okay. That was less than ideal. The camera (and most people who accompanied him) wouldn’t pick up what it was saying, so Connor always repeated it back. “They asked if we came alone, and said it was a bold mistake.” He paused. “Why?” he asked the spirit, his voice casually inquisitive. “Why is it bold? You’re not out to hurt us or something, are you? Seems a bit unnecessary.” He kept his voice casual, not wanting to provoke it. “You got your bracelet?” he whispered to Rio. His own rested on his wrist, a leather knotted piece of jewellery with a glass vial containing salt. “It isn’t a hundred per cent failsafe, but they help a lot. Kind of like a condom.”

‘What are you whispering about?’ It asked. ‘Are you making fun of me?’

“No, of course not. We’re just… talking about the best way to help you.” He’d heard of spirits like this. They weren’t really ghosts in that they couldn’t take a human form, but they could still possess people, usually those who were emotionally vulnerable and isolated. “Are you here alone? I thought a family lived here?” he asked, keeping it talking while he took some supplies out of his bag on a rotting, dusty dining room table.

All of his life, Orion had been the one that heard everything. His stupid hunter hearing was temperamental, but it usually picked up on sounds too far away from any normal person to hear or too private for Rio to be listening in on. For once, Rio actually found himself frustrated that he couldn’t hear something. Knowing that the spirit was saying something that Rio couldn’t pick up on was nerve wracking and left him feeling vulnerable. “Can they hear me?” Rio asked Connor, taking a step closer to the ghost hunter as he tried to unpack his things. It seemed like he had a plan. Rio nodded a confirmation that raised his hand to show off the bracelet that he had tied against his wrist. The salt center made sense. It seemed like a pretty common supernatural deterrence. At least for things no longer alive. “Connor’s telling the truth. I can’t hear you, but neither of us are here to do any harm to you.” Rio felt useless. It wasn’t an uncommon feeling for Rio, but it was something that he hadn’t felt for awhile. For once, Rio had finally started to feel like he was able to help. Now, he was practically back to square one. But he took a step forward and tried to block Connor’s path. If Connor had a plan the least Rio could go was try to protect him.

“They can hear you,” Connor said. “Sorry, I… dunno what to call you,” he said to the specter. It swooped around the room. In the darkness, Connor couldn’t see it properly in its flimsy shape, but he figured it might be trying to possess one of them, hopefully to no effect. He drew out the circle in chalk on the ground, making use of the space Rio was blocking with his body. Hopefully it would respond to the same ritual that had got rid of Uncle Joe.

‘This one is stupid,’ the ghasper said.

“That’s not very nice,” Connor answered, looking at Rio sympathetically. “It said you’re stupid.” He wiped the chalk from his hands. “Some people just don’t know much about spirits. He’s new to this, mate, give him a break, yeah? So how long have you lived here? It’s… nice, apart from the structural issues and dust.” Connor was trying to keep it calm while he prepared his tools.

‘I don’t know how long I’ve been here…’ it admitted. ‘Years. There’s always losers coming in. I took hold of them sometimes.’

“Must be lonely,” Connor answered after repeating its words to Rio so he was clued in. “Make sure you get this on camera, okay?” he whispered.

A ghost had just called Orion stupid, and all he could think to do was chuckle. “That’s fair, but you might be surprised actually. Ghosts just aren��t really my specialty.” He turned around and glanced at Connor over his shoulder. Maybe that comment was a little more information than he needed to give to either Connor or the ghost, but his goal was to keep the ghost busy. Whether that was by peaking its curiosity or annoying it, Rio hoped that it was working. He spotted that Connor was drawing something and didn’t want to risk the ghost being able to see it, so he turned back towards the ghost.

“I think I knew those losers.” Rio agreed with the ghost after Connor had translated, “I grew up around here. I’ve always heard people bragging about coming here. They were usually jerks.” He nodded silently to Connor and readjusted the camera a bit, hoping that even though he was clearly scared out of his mind he was able to keep calm enough that he wasn’t ruining the shot. “But Connor here isn’t a loser. He’s the real deal. And I think he can help you.”

“Aw, yeah, massive wankers, Rio told me all about ‘em,” Connor chimed in. “Can you do me a favor though? I’m trying to help you, yeah? But I need you to come closer so I can see you.” Connor had left his camera on the table with a wide view of the room so it could record anything Rio might have missed.

‘You two don’t seem lonely at all. Well, maybe the stupid one, a little bit, but I can tell he has love in his life.’

Connor shot Rio a look, giving a low chuckle before repeating the ghost’s words. At least Rio was getting some.

“Nah, and nobody should be lonely, so… what do you say?”

There was a poignant pause before the ghasper decided to take Connor up on his offer, fluttering closer, like a little badly formed cloud of smoke. Connor stepped back, beckoning, until it was in position, right there in his chalk circle.

“Sorry, mate. Can’t risk you possessing some other poor bugger that walks in here.” He picked up his book of rituals, holding the ceremonial dagger that operated as his focal point, starting to recite in Latin. The wind seemed to pick up, walls shaking as the ghasper tried to resist.

‘LIAR! You lying bastard. You will suffer eternal damnation. My brethren will rip your insides out and use them to string you up!’

And so the threats continued, but Connor kept his focus, feeling his energy deplete. With a hard gust of wind, the ghasper vanished, and the building was calm once again. Connor had to lean against the table to keep himself upright.

“Bloody hell. Oof… still kind of new at that part,” he murmured.

Connor was sweet talking the ghost. Orion stayed mostly silent from then on, assuming that Connor had a handle on the rest. It was impressive to watch. And certainly cemented the fact that Connor was the real deal. This definitely hadn’t been his first run in with a real ghost. So that must have meant that Connor’s other videos had been real too then? Fascinating.

Rio’s face turned red again once Connor repeated its words. Even the ghost was embarrassing Rio in front of the cameras now? That had to be a new low for Rio. He decided to just shrug against the words. He couldn’t believe that he had just been called stupid multiple times by the random ghost. Though Rio didn’t have much time to dwell on it. The ghost was coming closer to the two and Rio backed away behind Connor to let him take over, making sure to angle it so that both the orb and Connor could be seen in the shot. Once the ghost got into the circle that Connor had drawn, the ghost hunter pulled out a book and started reciting Latin. Rio was familiar with the words, Latin being the only language that his parents had actually supported the twins learning. This was an honest to god exorcism. The orb seemed to go crazy, and Rio could only imagine what it must be saying. And then, the thing vanished as if it had never been there in the first place. “Holy crap.” Rio stares quietly, staring at Connor in wonder, but soon the excitement took over and he was hopping up and down and repeating himself, “Holy crap! You just did that! That was so cool! I couldn’t even tell that you were a beginner.”

Connor caught his breath. It always took something out of you to perform an exorcism, but Connor was still learning. He wondered if it got easier the more you did it, but from the way some of the contacts he’d tracked down spoke about it, he doubted it. “Thanks,” he chuckled tiredly, but his pride was evident in his voice and his expression. “Probably makes me a bit of a masochist to say it was fun, right? Luckily ghaspers aren’t very strong or dangerous.” He straightened up, his energy slowly returning to him. “Alright mate, let’s go back to my place and we can grab a beer and I’ll show you how I edit.” He grinned. “Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.”

Still reeling from the exorcism that he had just witnessed, Orion had no plans of cutting off now and heading home. He had hoped that he could get a look into editing at some point but hadn’t expected Connor to invite him over immediately following this. “Seriously?” Rio asked him, still a bit confused at the idea of someone wanting to hang out with him. He shouldn’t be anymore. He had made friends that he knew wanted to be around him. Rio just supposed he had almost twenty years of evidence to the contrary that always kept him a bit skeptical. But this was a new year for Rio. He wasn’t about to let those doubts hold him back. “I mean yeah, definitely. Nothing better to do at all.” He didn’t break the news to Connor that he didn’t really drink, but figured that wouldn’t be important once the two got to work cutting all the footage together. “I can stop by and grab food on the way? I know a great diner.”

#paras #with: orion #wickedswriting #with: rio

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blackfreethinkers · 4 years

Link

A racial realist IS a white supremacist!!!

By Greg Miller

In unguarded moments with senior aides, President Trump has maintained that Black Americans have mainly themselves to blame in their struggle for equality, hindered more by lack of initiative than societal impediments, according to current and former U.S. officials.

After phone calls with Jewish lawmakers, Trump has muttered that Jews “are only in it for themselves” and “stick together” in an ethnic allegiance that exceeds other loyalties, officials said.

Trump’s private musings about Hispanics match the vitriol he has displayed in public, and his antipathy to Africa is so ingrained that when first lady Melania Trump planned a 2018 trip to that continent he railed that he “could never understand why she would want to go there.”

When challenged on these views by subordinates, Trump has invariably responded with indignation. “He would say, ‘No one loves Black people more than me,’ ” a former senior White House official said. The protests rang hollow because if the president were truly guided by such sentiments he “wouldn’t need to say it,” the official said. “You let your actions speak.”

In Trump’s case, there is now a substantial record of his actions as president that have compounded the perceptions of racism created by his words.

Over 3½ years in office, he has presided over a sweeping U.S. government retreat from the front lines of civil rights, endangering decades of progress against voter suppression, housing discrimination and police misconduct.

His immigration policies hark back to quota systems of the 1920s that were influenced by the junk science of eugenics, and have involved enforcement practices — including the separation of small children from their families — that seemed designed to maximize trauma on Hispanic migrants.

With the election looming, the signaling behind even second-tier policy initiatives has been unambiguous.

After rolling back regulations designed to encourage affordable housing for minorities, Trump declared himself the champion of the “Suburban Lifestyle Dream.” He ordered aides to revamp racial sensitivity training at federal agencies so that it no longer refers to “White privilege.” In a speech at the National Archives on Thursday, Trump vowed to overhaul what children are taught in the nation’s schools — something only states have the power to do — while falsely claiming that students are being “fed lies about America being a wicked nation plagued by racism.”

The America envisioned by these policies and pronouncements is one dedicated to preserving a racial hierarchy that can be seen in Trump’s own Cabinet and White House, both overwhelmingly white and among the least diverse in recent U.S. history.

Trump’s push to amplify racism unnerves Republicans who have long enabled him

Scholars describe Trump’s record on race in historically harsh terms. Carol Anderson, a professor of African American Studies at Emory University, compared Trump to Andrew Johnson, who succeeded Abraham Lincoln as president and helped Southern Whites reestablish much of the racial hegemony they had seemingly lost in the Civil War.

“Johnson made it clear that he was really the president of a few people, not the American people,” Anderson said. “And Trump has done the same.”

A second White House official who worked closely with Trump quibbled with the comparison, but only because later Oval Office occupants also had intolerant views.

“Woodrow Wilson was outwardly a white supremacist,” the former official said. “I don’t think Trump is as bad as Wilson. But he might be.”

White House officials vigorously dispute such characterizations.

“Donald Trump’s record as a private citizen and as president has been one of fighting for inclusion and advocating for the equal treatment of all,” said Sarah Matthews, a White House spokeswoman. “Anyone who suggests otherwise is only seeking to sow division.”

No senior U.S. official interviewed could recall Trump uttering a racial or ethnic slur while in office. Nor did any consider him an adherent of white supremacy or white nationalism, extreme ideologies that generally sanction violence to protect White interests or establish a racially pure ethno-state.

White House officials also pointed to achievements that have benefited minorities, including job growth and prison-sentence reform.

But even those points fade under scrutiny. Black unemployment has surged disproportionately during the coronavirus pandemic, and officials said Trump regretted reducing prison sentences when it didn’t produce a spike in Black voter support.

And there are indications that even Trump’s allies are worried about his record on race. The Republican Party devoted much of its convention in August to persuading voters that Trump is not a racist, with far more Black speakers at the four-day event than have held top White House positions over the past four years.

This story is based on interviews with more than two dozen current and former officials, including some who have had daily interactions with the president, as well as experts on race and members of white supremacist groups. Many spoke on the condition of anonymity, citing a desire to provide candid accounts of events and conversations they witnessed without fear of retribution.

Coded racial terms

Most attributed Trump’s views on race and conduct to a combination of the prevailing attitudes of his privileged upbringing in the 1950s in what was then a predominantly White borough of New York, as well as a cynical awareness that coded racial terms and gestures can animate substantial portions of his political base.

The perspectives of those closest to the president are shaped by their own biases and self-interests. They have reason to resist the idea that they served a racist president. And they are, with few exceptions, themselves White males.

Others have offered less charitable assessments.

Omarosa Manigault Newman, one of the few Black women to have worked at the White House, said in her 2018 memoir that she was enlisted by White House aides to track down a rumored recording from “The Apprentice” — the reality show on which she was a contestant — in which Trump allegedly used the n-word. A former official said that others involved in the effort included Trump adviser Hope Hicks and former White House spokeswoman Sarah Sanders.

The tape, if it exists, was never recovered. But Manigault Newman, who was forced out after clashing with other White House staff, portrayed the effort to secure the tape as evidence that aides saw Trump capable of such conduct. In the book, she described Trump as “a racist, misogynist and bigot.”

Mary L. Trump, the president’s niece, has said that casual racism was prevalent in the Trump family. In interviews to promote her recently published book, she has said that she witnessed her uncle using both anti-Semitic slurs as well as the n-word, though she offered few details and no evidence.

Michael Cohen, the president’s former lawyer, has made similar allegations and calls Trump “a racist, a predator, a con man” in a newly published book. Cohen accuses Trump of routinely disparaging people of color, including former president Barack Obama. “Tell me one country run by a Black person that isn’t a s---hole,” Trump said, according to Cohen.

These authors did not provide direct evidence of Trump’s racist outbursts, but the animus they describe aligns with the prejudice Trump so frequently displays in public.

In recent months, Trump has condemned Black Lives Matter as a “symbol of hate” while defending armed White militants who entered the Michigan Capitol, right-wing activists who waved weapons from pickup trucks in Portland and a White teen who shot and killed two protesters in Wisconsin.

Trump has vowed to safeguard the legacies of Confederate generals while skipping the funeral of the late congressman John Lewis (D-Ga.), a civil rights icon, and retweeted — then deleted — video of a supporter shouting “White power” while questioning the electoral eligibility of Sen. Kamala D. Harris (D-Calif.), the nation’s first Black and Asian American candidate for vice president from a major party. In so doing, Trump reanimated a version of the false “birther” claim he had used to suggest that Obama may not have been born in the United States.

These add to an already voluminous record of incendiary statements, including his tweet that minority congresswomen should “go back” to their “crime infested” countries despite being U.S.-born or U.S. citizens, and his claim that there were “very fine people on both sides” after torch-carrying white nationalists staged a violent protest in Charlottesville.

In a measure of Trump’s standing with such organizations, the Stormfront website — the oldest and largest neo-Nazi platform on the Internet — recently issued a call to its followers to mobilize.

“If Trump doesn’t win this election, the police will be abolished and Blacks will come to your house and kill you and your family,” the site warned. “This isn’t about politics anymore, it is about basic survival.”

As the election approaches, Trump has also employed apocalyptic language. He recently claimed that if Democratic nominee Joe Biden is elected, police departments will be dismantled, the American way of life will be “abolished” and “no one will be SAFE.”

Given the country’s anguished history, it is hard to isolate Trump’s impact on the racial climate in the United States. But his first term has coincided with the most intense period of racial upheaval in a generation. And the country is now in the final stretch of a presidential campaign that is more explicitly focused on race — including whether the sitting president is a racist — than any election in modern American history.

Biden has seized on the issue from the outset. In a video declaring his candidacy, he used images from the clashes in Charlottesville, and said he felt compelled to run because of Trump’s response. He has called Trump the nation’s first racist president and pledged to use his presidency to heal divisions that are a legacy of the country’s “original sin” of slavery.

Exploiting societal divisions

Trump has confronted allegations of racism in nearly every decade of his adult life. In the 1970s, the Trump family real estate empire was forced to settle a Justice Department lawsuit alleging systemic discrimination against Black apartment applicants. In the 1980s, he took out full-page ads calling for the death penalty against Black teens wrongly accused of a rape in Central Park. In the 2000s, Trump parlayed his baseless “birther” claim about Obama into a fervent far-right following.

As president, he has cast his record on race in grandiose terms. “I’ve done more for Black Americans than anybody with the possible exception of Abraham Lincoln,” Trump said July 22, a refrain he has repeated at least five times in recent months.

None of the administration officials interviewed for this story agreed with Trump’s self-appraisals. But several sought to rationalize his behavior.

Some argued that Trump only exploits societal divisions when he believes it is to his political advantage. They pointed to his denunciations of kneeling NFL players and paeans to the Confederate flag, claiming these symbols matter little to him beyond their ability to rouse supporters.

“I don’t think Donald Trump is in any way a white supremacist, a neo-Nazi or anything of the sort,” a third former senior administration official said. “But I think he has a general awareness that one component of his base includes factions that trend in that direction.”

Studies of the 2016 election have shown that racial resentment was a far bigger factor in propelling Trump to victory than economic grievance. Political scientists at Tufts University and the University of Massachusetts, for example, examined the election results and found that voters who scored highly on indexes of racism voted overwhelmingly for Trump, a dynamic particularly strong among non-college-educated Whites.

Several current and former administration officials, somewhat paradoxically, cited Trump’s nonracial biases and perceived limitations as exculpatory.

Several officials said that Trump is not a disciplined enough thinker to grasp the full dimensions of the white nationalist agenda, let alone embrace it. Others pointed out that they have observed him making far more offensive comments about women, insisting that his scorn is all-encompassing and therefore shouldn’t be construed as racist.

“This is a guy who abuses people in his cabinet, abuses four-star generals, abuses people who gave their life for this country, abuses civil servants,” the first former senior White House official said. “It’s not like he doesn’t abuse people that are White as well.”

Nearly all said that Trump places far greater value on others’ wealth, fame or loyalty to him than he does on race or ethnicity. In so doing, many raised a version of the “some of my best friends are Black” defense on behalf of the president.

When faced with allegations of racism in the 2016 campaign, Trump touted his friendship with boxing promoter Don King to argue otherwise. Administration officials similarly pointed to the president’s connection to Black people who have praised him, worked for him or benefited from his help.

They cited Trump’s admiration for Tiger Woods and other Black athletes, the political support he has received from Sen. Tim Scott (R-S.C.) and other Black lawmakers, the president’s fondness for Ja’Ron Smith, who as assistant to the president for domestic policy is the highest-ranking Black staffer at the White House, and his pardon of Black criminal-justice-reform advocate Alice Marie Johnson, expunging her 1996 conviction for cocaine trafficking.

In his speech at the Republican National Convention, Scott used his personal story of bootstrap success to emphasize the ways that Republican policies on taxes, school choice and other issues create opportunities for minorities.

Trump “has fought alongside me” on such issues, Scott said, urging voters “not to look simply at what the candidates say, but to look back at what they’ve done.”

For all the prominence that Scott and other Black Trump supporters were given at the convention, there has been no corresponding representation within the Trump administration.

The official photo stream of Trump’s presidency is a slide show of a commander in chief surrounded by White faces, whether meeting with Cabinet members or posing with the latest intern crop.

From the outset, his leadership team has been overwhelmingly White. A Washington Post tally identified 59 people who have held Cabinet positions or served in top White House jobs including chief of staff, press secretary and national security adviser since Trump took office.

Only seven have been people of color, including Defense Secretary Mark T. Esper and Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar, who are of Lebanese heritage. Only one — Ben Carson, the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development — is Black.

Under Trump, the nation’s federal courts have also become increasingly White. Of the 248 judges confirmed or nominated since Trump took office, only eight were Black and eight were Hispanic, according to records compiled by NPR News.

Retreating from civil rights

Trump can point to policy initiatives that have benefited Black or other minority groups, including criminal justice reforms that reduced prison sentences for thousands of Black men convicted of nonviolent, drug-related crimes.

About 4,700 inmates have been released or had their sentences reduced under the First Step Act, an attempt to reverse the lopsided legacy of the drug wars of the 1980s and 1990s, which disproportionately targeted African Americans. But this policy was championed primarily by Jared Kushner, Trump’s son-in-law, and former officials said that Trump only agreed to support the measure when told it might boost his low poll numbers with Black voters.

Months later, when that failed to materialize, Trump “went s---house crazy,” one former official said, yelling at aides, “Why the hell did I do that?”

Manigault Newman was similarly excoriated when her efforts to boost funding for historically Black colleges failed to deliver better polling numbers for the president, officials said. “You’ve been at this for four months, Omarosa,” Trump said, according to one adviser, “but the numbers haven’t budged.” Manigault Newman did not respond to a request for comment.

White House officials cited other initiatives aimed at helping people of color, including loan programs targeting minority businesses and the creation of “opportunity zones” in economically distressed communities.

Trump has pointed most emphatically to historically low Black unemployment rates during his first term, arguing that data show they have fared better under his administration than under Obama or any other president.

But unemployment statistics are largely driven by broader economic trends, and the early gains of Black workers have been wiped out by the pandemic. Blacks have lost jobs at higher rates than other groups since the economy began to shut down. The jobless rate for Blacks in August was 13 percent, compared with 7.3 percent for Whites — the highest racial disparity in nearly six years.

Neither prison reform nor minority jobs programs were priorities of Trump’s first term. His administration has devoted far more energy and political capital to erecting barriers to non-White immigrants, dismantling the health-care policies of Obama and pulling federal agencies back from civil rights battlegrounds.

Under Trump, the Justice Department has cut funding in its Civil Rights Division, scaled back prosecutions of hate crimes, all but abandoned efforts to combat systemic discrimination by police departments and backed state measures that deprived minorities of the right to vote.

Weeks after Trump took office, the department announced it was abandoning its six-year involvement in a legal battle with Texas over a 2011 voter ID law that a federal court had ruled unfairly targeted minorities.

Later, the department went from opposing, under Obama, an Ohio law that allowed the state to purge tens of thousands of voters from its rolls to defending the measure before the Supreme Court.

The law was upheld by the court’s conservative majority. In a dissenting opinion, Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor noted that voter rolls in African American neighborhoods shrank by 10 percent, compared with 4 percent in majority-White suburbs.

The Justice Department’s shift when faced with allegations of systemic racism by police departments has been even more stark.

After the Rodney King beating in Los Angeles in 1991, Congress gave the department new power to investigate law enforcement agencies suspected of engaging in a “pattern or practice” of systemic — including racist — misconduct. The probes frequently led to settlements that required sweeping reforms.

The authority was put to repeated use by three consecutive presidents: 25 times under Bill Clinton, 21 under George W. Bush and 25 under Obama. Under Trump, there has been only one.

The collapse has coincided with a surge in police killings captured on video, the largest civil rights protests in decades and polling data that suggests a profound turn in public opinion in support of the Black Lives Matter cause — though that support has waned in recent weeks as protests became violent in some cities.

A Justice Department spokesman pointed to nearly a dozen cases over the past three years in which the department has prosecuted hate crimes or launched racial discrimination lawsuits. In perhaps the most notable case, James Fields Jr., who was convicted of murder for driving his car into a crowd of protesters in Charlottesville, also pleaded guilty to federal hate crime charges.

“The Civil Rights Division of the United States Department of Justice is vigorously fighting race discrimination throughout the United States. Any assertion to the contrary is completely false,” said Assistant Attorney General Eric Dreiband. “Since 2017, we have prosecuted criminal and civil race discrimination cases in all parts of the United States, and we will continue to do so.”

But the department has not launched a pattern or practice probe into any of the police departments involved in the killings that ignited this summer’s protests, including the May 25 death in Minneapolis of George Floyd, who asphyxiated after a White policeman kept him pinned to the ground for nearly eight minutes with a knee to his neck.

The department has opened a more narrow investigation of the officers directly involved in Floyd’s death. Attorney General William P. Barr called Floyd’s killing “shocking,” but in congressional testimony argued there was no reason to commit to a broader probe of Minneapolis or any other police force.

“I don’t believe there is systemic racism in police departments,” Barr said.

Deport, deny and discourage

Days after the 2016 election, David Duke, a longtime leader of the Ku Klux Klan, tweeted that Trump’s win was “great for our people.” Richard Spencer, another prominent white nationalist figure, was captured on video leading a “Hail Trump” salute at an alt-right conference in Washington.

People with far-right views or white nationalist sympathies gravitated to the administration.

Michael Anton, who published a 2016 essay comparing the country’s course under Obama to that of an aircraft controlled by Islamist terrorists and called for an end to “the ceaseless importation of Third World foreigners,” became deputy national security adviser for strategic communication.

Ian Smith served as an immigration policy analyst at the Department of Homeland Security until email records showed connections with Spencer and other white supremacists. Darren Beattie worked as a White House speechwriter before leaving abruptly when CNN reported his involvement in a conference frequented by white nationalists.

Stephen K. Bannon, who for years used Breitbart News to advance an alt-right, anti-immigrant agenda, was named White House chief strategist, only to be banished eight months later after clashing with other administration officials.

Stephen Miller, by contrast, has survived a series of White House purges and used his position as senior adviser to the president to push hard-line policies that aim to deport, deny and discourage non-European immigrants.

While working for the Trump campaign in 2016, Miller sent a steady stream of story ideas to Breitbart drawn from white nationalist websites, according to email records obtained by the Southern Poverty Law Center. In one exchange, Miller urged a Breitbart reporter to read “Camp of the Saints,” a French novel that depicts the destruction of Western civilization by rampant immigration. The book has become a touchpoint for white supremacist groups.

Miller was the principal architect of, and driving force behind, the so-called Muslim Ban issued in the early days of Trump’s presidency and the separation of migrant children from their parents along the border with Mexico. He has also worked behind the scenes to turn public opinion against immigrants and outmaneuver bureaucratic adversaries, officials said.

To blunt allegations of racism and xenophobia in the administration’s policies, Miller has sought to portray them as advantageous to people of color. In several instances, Miller directed subordinates to “look for Latinos or Blacks who have been victims of a crime by an immigrant,” then pressured officials at the Department of Homeland Security to tout these cases to the press, one official said. Families of some victims appeared as prominent guests of the president at the State of the Union address.

In 2018, as Miller sought to slash the number of refugees admitted to the United States, Pentagon officials argued that the existing policy was crucial to their ability to relocate interpreters and other foreign nationals who risked their lives to work with U.S. forces in Iraq and Afghanistan.

“What do you want? Iraqi communities across the United States?” Miller erupted during one meeting of National Security Council deputies, according to witnesses. The refugee limit has plunged since Trump took office, from 85,000 in 2016 to 18,000 this year.

In response to a request for comment from Miller, Matthews, the White House spokeswoman, said that “this attempt to vilify Stephen Miller with egregious and unfounded allegations from anonymous sources is shameful and completely unethical.”

As a descendant of Jewish immigrants, Miller is regarded warily by white supremacist organizations even as they applaud some of his actions.

“Our side doesn’t consider him one of us — for obvious reasons,” said Don Black, the founder of the Stormfront website, in an interview. “He’s kind of an odd choice to be the white nationalist in the White House.”

Trump’s presidency has corresponded with a surge in activity by white nationalist groups, as well as concern about the growing danger they pose.

Recent assessments by the Department of Homeland Security describe white supremacists as the country’s gravest domestic threat, exceeding that of the Islamic State and other terror groups, according to documents obtained by the Lawfare national security website and reported by Politico.

The FBI has expanded resources to tracking hate groups and crimes. FBI Director Christopher A. Wray testified Thursday that “racially motivated violent extremism” accounts for the bulk of the bureau’s domestic terrorism cases, and that most of those are driven by white supremacist ideology.

Major rallies staged by white nationalist organizations, which were already on the upswing just before the 2016 election, increased in size and frequency after Trump took office, according to Brian Levin, an expert on hate groups at California State University at San Bernardino.

The largest, and most ominous, was the “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville.

On Aug. 11, 2017, hundreds of white supremacists, neo-fascists and Confederate sympathizers descended on the city. Purportedly there to protest the planned removal of a Robert E. Lee statue, they carried torches and chanted slogans including “blood and soil” and “you will not replace us” laden with Klan and Nazi symbolism.

The event erupted in violence the next day, Saturday, when Fields, a self-proclaimed white supremacist, drove his car into a crowd of counterprotesters, tossing bodies into the air. Heather Heyer, a 32-year-old Virginia native and peace activist, was killed.

Trump’s vacillating response in the ensuing days came to mark one of the defining sequences of his presidency.

Speaking from his golf resort in Bedminster, N.J., Trump at first stuck to a calibrated script: “We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence.” Then, improvising, he added: “on many sides, on many sides.”

In six words, Trump had drawn a moral equivalency between the racist ideology of those responsible for the Klan-like spectacle and the competing beliefs that compelled Heyer and others to confront hate.

Trump’s comments set off what some in the White House came to regard as a behind-the-scenes struggle for the moral character of his presidency.

John F. Kelly, a retired Marine Corps general who was just weeks into his job as White House chief of staff, confronted Trump in the corridors of the Bedminster club. “You have to fix this,” Kelly said, according to officials familiar with the exchange. “You were supporting white supremacists. You have to go back out and correct this.”

Gary Cohn, the White House economic adviser at the time, threatened to resign and argued that there were no “good people” among the ranks of those wearing swastikas and chanting “Jews will not replace us.” In a heated exchange, Cohn criticized Trump for his “many sides” comment, and was flummoxed when Trump denied that was what he had said.

“Not only did you say it, you continued to double down on it,” Cohn shot back, according to officials familiar with the exchange. “And if you want, I’ll get the transcripts.”

Trump relented that Monday and delivered the ringing condemnation of racism that Kelly, Cohn and others had urged. “Racism is evil,” he said, “and those who cause violence in its name are criminals and thugs, including the KKK, neo-Nazis, white supremacists, and other hate groups”

Aides were briefly elated. But Trump grew agitated by news coverage depicting his speech as an attempt to correct his initial blunder.

The next day, during an event at Trump Tower that was supposed to highlight infrastructure initiatives, Trump launched into a fiery monologue.

“You had a group on one side that was bad,” he said. “You had a group on the other side that was also very violent. Nobody wants to say that. I’ll say it right now.” By the end, the president appeared to be sanctioning racial divisions far beyond Charlottesville, saying “there are two sides to the country.”

For all their consternation, none of Trump’s top aides resigned over Charlottesville. Kelly remained in his job through 2018. Cohn stayed until March 2018 after being asked to lead the administration’s tax-reform initiative and reassured that he could share his own views about Charlottesville in public without retaliation from the president.

Kelly and Cohn declined to comment.

The most senior former administration official to comment publicly on Trump’s conduct on issues of race is former defense secretary Jim Mattis. After Trump responded to Black Lives Matter protests in Washington this summer with paramilitary force, Mattis responded with a blistering statement.

“Donald Trump is the first president in my lifetime who does not try to unite the American people — does not even pretend to try,” Mattis said. “Instead, he tries to divide us.”

In some ways, Charlottesville represented a high-water mark for white nationalism in Trump’s presidency. Civil rights groups were able to use footage of the mayhem in Virginia to identify members of hate groups and expose them to their employers, universities and families.

“Charlottesville backfired,” Levin said. Many of those who took part, especially the alt-right leadership, “were doxed, sued and beaten back,” he said, using a term for using documents available from public records to expose individuals.

“When the door to the big political tent closed on these overtly white nationalist groups, many collapsed, leaving a decentralized constituency of loose radicals now reorganizing under new banners,” Levin said.

Some white nationalist leaders have begun to express disenchantment with Trump because he has failed to deliver on campaign promises they hoped would bring immigration to a standstill or perhaps even ignite a race war.

“A lot of our people were expecting him to actually secure the borders, build the wall and make Mexico pay for it,” Black said.

“Some in my circles want to see him defeated,” Black said, because they believe a Biden presidency would call less attention to the white nationalist movement than Trump has, while fostering discontent among White people.

But Black sees those views as dangerously shortsighted, failing to appreciate the extraordinary advantages of having a president who so regularly aligns himself with aspects of the movement’s agenda.

“Symbolically, he’s still very important,” Black said of Trump. “I don’t think he considers himself a white supremacist or a white nationalist. But I think he may be a racial realist. He knows there are racial differences.”

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brownhardyho · 5 years

Text

Being Married to Ben HC, Pt 4

A/N: The fourth part of my being married to Ben HC. Fluff n smut ahead, enjoy! ;)

After you told Ben you were pregnant, you both decided to wait on telling your friends and family because you just wanted to enjoy the little bubble of happiness that only you two shared

There were definitely tears coming from both of you at the doctor’s office when you heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time

Like you were crying, but your husband Ben, was straight up sobbing with utter joy

“The baby’s heartbeat! We did that!” Ben hiccups, overcome with emotion

You and Ben wanted the gender to be a surprise, but that didn’t stop you two from expressing your guesses

The pregnancy itself was on your side, no morning sickness, if anything, you noticed that you were taking a lot more naps

Towards the end of the first trimester, you finally tell your family and friends and they are overjoyed and SO EXCITED

Especially Joe, who straight up cried when you broke the news to him that he was going to be an uncle

“Love, turn to the side,” Ben says excitedly, his green eyes beaming up at you. And you do, cuz by now you’re used to your husband’s antics

“You’re showing!!” he gushes, his hands stroking your now pronounced belly, which is out and not going anywhere

You were always gorgeous to Ben, no matter what your body looked like, if you were dressed to the nines wearing a killer gown or glistening like a badass in your workout clothes

But now that you are carrying his and your child, Ben firmly believes you are a GODDESS

Physical touch is one of Ben’s love languages (as is yours) so Ben is always in physical contact with the bump when he is with your

Ben loves rubbing cocoa butter on your belly after you’ve taken a shower.

It’s a nightly routine for you both to shower together before going to bed

After applying the lotion to the bump, Ben will massage your whole body and you’ll both talk about the baby and what he or she will look like/be like

On one night in particular, right as he was just about to take his hands off the belly, you both felt the baby kick at the same time

“Did the baby just-” Ben exclaimed in shock and awe

“Yes, bub!” you say excitedly

“What does it feel like?”

“Like someone kicked me in the bladder, now I have to pee, again!” You pout in annoyance cuz you swear you just went to the bathroom like 10 min ago

You also find this comforting because his hand on your belly is a constant reminder that Ben will always be there for you and your child and that he loves you both so much

Ben always talked to the baby, even before you started showing, stealing little whispers here and there when he thought you were still sleeping...

...but now that the belly is out and about, Ben is straight up having conversations with the bump.

He always says good morning and good night to the baby, placing a kiss to the belly, but not before giving you a kiss first

Speaking of kissing, when you reached the second trimester, you noticed that your body was extra sensitive, sexually

The pregnancy hormones got you feeling horny AF and Ben was more than willing to satisfy your needs

The first time it happened, Ben had just come home from a meeting, and all you gave him was a look that screamed “I need you NOW” and Ben carried you upstairs to your shared bedroom

It all happened so fast, clothes stripped off in record time and you pushed Ben to sit on the edge of the bed

You got settled on his lap, sitting on your knees, your dripping pussy just a mere inches away, hovering above Ben’s hard cock

He brought his arms around your naked body and started to places kisses up on your neck, as if to add a little foreplay

But girllll, you wanted your husband and you wanted him inside you NOW

So, without warning, you lifted your hips a little so your could guide his cock into your wet and waiting pussy, and slide your hips down in one smooth motion

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Ben groans lowly, reveling in the feeling of your wet, warm canals tightening around his member “I love you so much!”

“Oh Ben, I love you too,” You moan and whimper as you feel Ben’s thrusts become slower and deeper, taking you closer to your climax.

Your guttural moans escaped your lips like honey and got higher and higher in pitch each time you circled your hips, getting lost in the feeling of being full of Ben

Needless to say, the orgasm that you both experienced was nothing like you’ve experienced before

It was slow, needy, passionate and on another level of intensity

It is safe to say that you being pregnant added a different level of intimacy to your relationship and sex life

When it comes to preparing the house and shopping for the baby’s arrival, Ben has got that on lock

After wrapping up his latest project, Ben dedicated all his free time baby proofing the house and painting the baby’s room

It was normal for little packages to be delivered to the house because Ben had a habit of going a lil crazy when it comes to shopping for baby clothes

Especially shoes

Like the baby isn’t even born yet and there are already 5 pairs of shoes waiting for him or her

“Ben, but does the baby really need another pair of Adidas tho?” you ask in amusement as he coos over the new shoes he just unboxed

“Darling, my babylove,” Ben says seriously, taking his eyes of the shoes to place his emerald irises at you “Yes! Look how CUTE!”

One day, you get home from lunch with your mom and it is very quiet in the house

“Ben, honey I’m home!” you call out

“I’m up here,” He says, you follow his voice and find him in the baby’s room sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, bits and pieces of wood strewn all over

“What’s wrong?” you ask softly as you bend down to sit next to him, wrapping your arm around his shoulder. He looks up at you, his face slightly red, eyes bloodshot, eyelashes wet from the tears that fell on them just moments before you came home.

“Love, what if our baby hates me? What if I’m shit at being a father?” He huffs out, letting his insecurities out in the open.

“Ben, look at me please,” you take his face into your hands “Ben, I know for a fact that those two things are not going to ever happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Ben, honey.. First of all, you are the most loveable human I know. You have this uncanny ability to make anyone in the room feel welcomed and loved. You love me a whole damn lot and you take care of me and Frankie so well. You love your family and friends so much and protect us all so fiercely. Our baby, our child is going to love you a whole lot because Ben, you are just so sweet, caring, and funny!”

“I love you so much!” Ben hugs you into his chest, softly stroking your belly “I’m also scared shitless, like we’re gonna be parents!”

“I love you too bub,” You say softly pecking his lips “And I am too! But we’ll get through it together and it’ll be amazing!”

The both of you sit there, in comfortable silence, just taking this new life change all in

“Ben?”

“Hmm..”

“Can you help me up? I need to pee again.”

Permanent tag list: @chocolatealmondmilkshake , @rrrogah-tayluhh , @wanderlustandsmut

A/N: This is probably the longest part, I kind of went off haha. Let me know if y’all want a Part 5! ;)

#ben hardy #ben hardy is bae #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy smut #sam writes #brownhardyho writes #brownhardyho fic #brownhardyho oneshot

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elitetutorssussex · 4 years

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Mental health for children during lock-down

Our emotional and psychological wellbeing is being tested by COVID 19 and it’s so important that we take time to focus on our mental health. Talking to children about mental wellbeing is healthy and helpful and this piece is aimed at explaining some of the current strains as well as offering some advice and suggestions on how we can all look after each other during this challenging period.

Further advice for parents is available via The Wither Slack Group who are running a series of webinars intending to ensure that parents, careers, and professions get the support they need whilst at home.

How to look after your mental health during the lockdown

– A guide for children and young people –

These are very unusual times we’re in. If you’d told me a month ago that I wouldn’t be allowed to pop to the shop to buy myself a cheeky chocolate bar whenever I fancied one or that children wouldn’t be allowed to go to school, I would never have believed you. But here we are… spending a lot of time together at home!

A lot of people are struggling with the new rules and the huge changes to their normal routines and sometimes being at home with your family can get a little challenging. During all of this, we must look after ourselves physically and mentally. Everyone has good days and bad days and your mind needs looking after just as much as your body. If you hurt your leg, you can feel the pain – sometimes you can see the pain. When you’re struggling with your mental health and you’re feeling low or worried, it’s not visible and sometimes it’s hard to describe. You might have experienced feelings of confusion or sadness yourself recently. You might also have seen or heard your parents struggling. They might be feeling stressed or anxious about what’s happening in the world – it’s not been easy recently! When you’re spending time indoors with your family, it might help to have some tips on how to look after each other emotionally. Below is a shortlist of things you might like to try to stay positive.

Our tips for positive mental health during the lockdown.

1. Create a timetable for your day

Knowing what you’re doing each day and when you intend to do it will help keep the structure and routine in your life. Map out when you’re going to get your schoolwork done, when you’re going to stop for lunch or have a snack, when you’ll do your exercise, etc. This will allow your other family members to get their work done too! You can use this handy online template to build your schedule or design and handwrite your own.

2. Get some exercise

Get out for your daily exercise, make use of your garden (if you’re lucky enough to have one) or find an online workout to get your heart going. Joe Wick’s PE sessions are hugely popular with both adults and children, as are Cosmic Kids Yoga sessions.

3. Talk about how you feel

It’s ok to feel bored and, understandably, you might feel worried at times. Some days you might be feeling super chirpy. Talk to your family about how you’re feeling and make plans together to increase the positivity.

4. Plan for the future

Spend some time thinking about what you’d like to do when the lockdown is over. Perhaps dedicate a jar or box to your ideas – each time you think of something (go for a picnic, take a train to somewhere new), write it on a piece of paper and pop it in the box. When the lockdown is over, you and your family members can take turns to pull out a suggestion and make a plan for that day!

5. Be kind to each other

Remember that everyone is having good days and bad days and some encouragement from each other goes a long way. Compliment a member of your family or tell them something positive about your day. Give hugs, leave secret special notes for people to discover, ask someone how they’re feeling. All these things will help.

6. Give each other space

Living in such close confines can be challenging! Maybe your schedule for the day needs to include some solo downtime where you get a little break to be alone. Remember that the people around you might like some alone time too.

7. Get creative with ways to unwind

Your day should include downtime where you get to relax and have fun. Play games together, get arty, try finding a new hobby. Find a new book to grab your attention – the World Book Day’s extracts page might introduce you to something or someone new.

8. Practice some mindfulness.

Practicing mindfulness encourages you to focus on relaxing your body and mind. There are plenty of mindful activities you can try – some more active than others. From coloring to meditation; take a moment of calm. Headspace offers fantastic mindful sessions for children allowing moments of peace and stillness. Look out for our free meditation and mindfulness courses about to be released!

9. Remember happy memories

Take some time to reflect on the past and share some happy memories. Now is a great time to pull out the old photos, create a memory book, share your favorite moments.

10. Offer to help out around the home

Your parents LOVE a little help around the home and now more than ever you can make a big difference. Keeping your room tidy, offering to help out with the chores, looking after the pets, supporting your younger siblings with their routines and chores – these things will all be much appreciated!

11. Reach out to family members you haven’t seen in a while

It can be hard to keep in touch when you can’t see each other regularly. Make use of the wonders of modern digital technology and get in touch with the aunties, uncles, grandmas, grandpas, and cousins that you haven’t seen for a while. Why not try virtual game playing – set up the monopoly board in two households and enjoy some healthy competition across homes!

12. Keep a journal.

This is a time that you will never experience again. It’s a time in history that people will look back upon and learn greatly from. In the past, we have learned from people’s diaries and journals of their experiences. Write daily, write about your thoughts and feelings and the things that happen. All of this is important.

13. Photo-journaling.

This is another incredibly powerful way to record this moment of living history. If you have access to a device or a camera then take photos of your family, record what you see when you are out on your daily walk- so many things are strange and unusual that an excellent way to be a historian and record this is by taking photos.

14. Join in or learn something new.

Make use of free courses and classes. Elite Tutors Sussex are about to launch meditation courses, spelling course and an after school choir along with Dr. Seuss read along and a creative writing course too!

Remember that things will get back to normal and you’ll be able to see your friends and extended family again, hopefully soon! Use these days to enjoy being together as a family – remember it for the fun you had and the kindness you showed towards each other.

by Emma Rickaby QTS- one of the best registered tutors at Elite Tutor Sussex Ltd.

Read more: - https://elitetutorssussex.com/mental-health-for-children-during-lockdown/

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blankdblank · 5 years

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I Believe in...Dwarves Pt 2

Pt 1

@deepestfirefun

“It shouldn’t be that hard.” Again Peter Jackson muttered this to himself in hopes of the mantra easing his worries as for the task necessary for his next film to take on a secure footing. The lead male of his film, a black Andalusian stallion, formerly a King in the tale, was required to be taught a certain set of choreography he had no clue how to handle the task.

The writer for the beloved tale was taking a great role in the filming and with a full supply of the gorgeous breed of horses he was granting use of for filming under the watch of his chosen trainer he assured that could master the difficult tasks ahead. A bing from the phone on the breakfast table beside him signaled its rise in his palm to see the email from the writer. Wetting his lips he read through the title, “Progress report.”

A simple video sat tempting him to watch without any further message past that. The stilled image was of the stallion with one hoof raised, exhaling slowly he hit play and heard the watered down music chosen for the scene beginning to play. Inside the pen marking the prison cell the stallion would be escaping from the door was pulled open by a string while in the distance the mysterious dancer, the lead female in disguise, takes their pose on one knee raising your arms upwards in an arch. Over the music a recorded female voice playing with an instruction guiding the horse out of the imagined cell.

Around a series of mock hallways and turns the horse would follow the instructions while the dancer, who made a deep arch forward in a long back stepping squat the horse ducked and walked behind a set up half all marking the opening in the wall he would be ducking under nearing the dancer bringing the cameraman closer to her. A steady rise on one foot from a crouch to hold her leg behind her in a straight line while their arms went from over their head backwards in a sudden drop of the leg into a pirouette through an instruction leading the stallion in a spiral around a stand in person holding a newspaper up in place of the stack of items distracting the servant.

A spiraled set of steps led the horse through a garden divided by paisley shaped hedges leading him towards the King’s celebration of taking over the kingdom from the King. Having had to capture a passing Enchantress in asking for shelter, whom he had forced to give him powers enabling the transformation the King was faced with. A final set of spiraled steps led up to the big moment when the dancer and horse would both give giant leaps, her in a grand jete bent in a deep arch backwards through the high jump through an opening with dangling strips of fabric easing the horses’ comfort in jumping through a partially covered opening. Another few set of spiraled steps in the upwards flare of the music marked the enraged King watching the dancer hurry over looping an arm mid spin to leap up onto the unsaddled horse’s back.

A few turns around markers later came with the dancer’s reach down to grab a set of bags waiting on a table set up in the field before the video ended with the writer grinning while saying, “See, nearly to the stage of a first test on a set. Just a few more nerves to work out. We may have to add in the curtains later with a computer for him to leap through, everything else is nearly perfect. Hope this calms your nerves.”

With a chuckle in awe Peter sat as the video shut off signaling his head to pop up and call for his wife and daughter to bring them closer to watch the video themselves. Fran asked after a chuckle of her own, “How did they train them to do that?”

Peter chuckled, “Not a clue. Some expert with that breed I suppose, but more importantly, who did he get for the role of the dancer?”

Fran, “Whoever it is that was quite a leap, and in dirt and grass too. Must have trained a while to get that leap onto the horse right.”

With a giggle their daughter went back to her breakfast in their overlapping listing of schedules to find the best day to plan to go and drop by the ranch to see the herd and dancer for themselves.

…

Just under a month out in this lush haven you giggled circling the stallion around to the pen again with a tap on the side of his neck in his slowing trot. Your eyes dropped to your grandfather asking, “How’d his jump look?”

He chuckled patting your stallion’s neck in your leg swinging over to the left to hop down beside him, “Nearly to the height of your leap. Nice parallel.”

Giggling again you kissed the cheek on the stallion’s cheek in his bumping his forehead to yours, stroking his face you said, “Amazing job Sir Guy.” Looking to your grandfather you said, “Hope they like the video.”

He chuckled saying in your guiding Sir Guy into the barn to brush him down and let him loose after the long morning of practicing, “I know they will, and when they come down I know they will love you.”

You rolled your eyes, “I haven’t had a role since, it’s got to be over four years now. Not counting the voice over jobs.”

He chuckled, “Jaqiearae, your Gran’s name, your name, I wrote the part in honor of her and you are her twin. Why do auditions, you know the story by heart and Sir only listens to you and lets you ride him. Plus, most of the film he has to be without a saddle, only you know how to control him that way!”

You sighed and let Sir free locking your purple eyes on his pale green ones, “You are devious.”

He chuckled and led you to the kitchen for a lunch waiting for word on when they would be dropping by.

Word for the film had circled around and the adaptation of a classic book from a New Zealand writer being filmed by a famed Director worthy of the task, leaving just the wonder as to who would be portraying the leads. Surely a great number of former Lord of the Rings cast members had been cast to various roles, with Andy Serkis working as Co-Director once again for extra scenes and angles and under Richard’s statement he would be traveling out here you made an assumption of your own as to who was playing the lead role.

The famed Director, who you had forced yourself not to squeak when he arrived and moved to greet you. In shaking your hand his lips parted at your wide grin easing out his, “I’m sorry, you just-,”

You shook your head with a giggle, “No, it’s ok. The role was written about my Gran, who I look like and am named after. It’s amazing to meet you.”

He chuckled asking, “You wouldn’t happen to have been in that video Joe sent me?”

With a weak giggle you replied, “Ya. Gramps has been plotting it seems. I got Sir Guy to follow the steps pretty easily though either way.”

“How did you manage that?”

You shrugged, “Known him since he was born. The size might fool you but he’s a giant softie and eager to please.” Making him chuckle again.

“You even managed to bring the dance from the book to life. Have you studied on it long?”

“Not particularly. Gramps had a few sketches of the big parts, the rest was easy to add in with the sketches of the sets.”

“Do you choreograph dances often?”

With an awkward giggle you replied, “Um, not really, not since I retired from figure skating.”

His brow inched up, “bad injury?”

You shook your head, “No. Triplets.”

He chuckled again, “That would do it.”

Moving to the table you shared more about the tricks Sir Guy had been taught while the others merely could be used for stand in shots or extra travel scenes with you to let him rest through the busy filming schedule. By the end of the visit the directors had been charmed into your Gramp’s plan signing you on the spot for the role knowing you, as plotted, would be perfect for the role.

…

In heavy rains after losing her home Jaqiearae, an orphan with no memory of her family or childhood, is driving with eyes narrowed in focus for anywhere to stop, reciting the intro to the halfway burned fairytale seated on the passenger seat.

- The tale of an evil King off in the lands to the East refusing to show his face for burns from a fire killing his wife and daughter who vanished in the furious brewing of a war to sate his rage from his loss. From there the story switches to a young King Jon, who was able to end a longstanding war that granted him rule over the Evil King’s lands when he fled. Jon’s uncle and generals returned from war, all noting the change in them who was named regent of those new lands.

Slowly things would start to change, delving into a great deal of his introduction to a series of well bred women he would be choosing from for his bride. The wrong one clearly in the lead due to her plotting ways, but of course the young King was none the wiser. And in the middle of a storm an exhausting Enchantress would arrive pleading for shelter only to be held hostage by the uncle, who would use the situation to force the gift of powers for himself. Those powers used then to shift King Jon into a huge black Andalusian stallion he would then trap in the dungeons, declaring him as having fled his throne. -

That was where the story ended as the oddly burned book stopped in at a small diner just outside the town where Jaqiearae would be moving into the groundskeeper housing on the estate she had been hired in, all her belongings crammed inside her car. The dusty and dim diner sat softly humming with the noise of the usual faces filling their usual spots in the midnight shift. Through the walkway she walked to the empty booth setting down and at the approach of the waitress a drink order is given and she accepted the menu offered resting her bag on the booth beside her.

Oddly flipping pages were heard by her as well as the clomping of hooves from the King in the dungeon muttering to himself a string of curses while she curses to herself at the continued search for the full novel. Ignoring the sounds she eyes the menu stopping at the pasta dish feeling oddly familiar, remembering the last time she had the dish. At ordering it however the waitress, with an odd glisten in her eyes, would move back to behind the counter to slide a sign over to flip a hidden switch suddenly flinging your booth backwards through the wall sending you hurtling through an eerily dark tunnel only to fall heavily into a pile massive bed.

Groaning in pain Jaqiearae begins to scour the large bedroom formerly belonging to the King, only to hide at the entrance of servants, hear a deep voice in her head she knew right away as the trapped King’s. Knowing where she is now she begins to hatch a plan, knowing the layout of the castle by heart from the diagrams in the book and detailed notes from various scenes she hides her things and then changes into a dancer’s outfit to distract the Evil Uncle. Through the dance the stubborn King reluctantly follows the voice in his head through the magically opened cell. A dance later and the dancer leaps through an opening into the night out of sight from the King to cheers in time to leap up onto the King Stallion’s back to guide him out of the castle and into the wild grabbing her hidden things along the way.

Those scenes focused with you were easily shot, granting you a scene with Graham McTavish, the Evil Uncle. In awe the extras and Graham, upon watching the playback of both Peter and Andy’s footage of the escape scene were amazed as to how you had trained the masterful creature to perform that escape through the expansive sets and extras far away from you for the majority of it.

Settling nicely into your own stride portraying this amazing character your Gramps had created the buzz in town had grown astoundingly and at the first stolen picture of you elation flooded through those hopeful for the film at a fellow New Zealander, and none other than a perfect embodiment of the female lead. Who all were thrilled to not have been altered, as many females from novels had been, mess of pitch black curls and bright purple eyes intact along with your far from statuesque Barbie like figure many had assumed to have to be forced through.

A final day was what you had to get through before the date Richard had stated marking his arrival to the continent embodying heaven for you in miles of green you were glad to be in again. The final scene in city would come after Jaqiearae would be returned back to the diner.

Knee bouncingly anxious Richard sat on the seat to his assigned car on the ride back from the airport after taking an earlier flight in hopes of surprising you. His message to you had gone unanswered and with the pictures Graham had sent him of the seemingly unknown female lit up his final weeks as to why you had been so scattered on times to message or call him between his own scattered tries to reach you. Sharing the lead roles in the film he was guaranteed one kiss, hopefully not his only chance at doing so if he doesn’t spoil things. A stop at the rental home he secured near Graham’s home, the same one from his time in the Hobbit, his bags were dropped off and he was off to the film set.

Through the group of crew members he flashed quiet grins to in a silent greeting at their motions that they were filming Richard followed the allowed paths to find Andy’s side seeing through the monitor your filling mundane repair tasks through the motions of nurses passing you by. A few scenes were filmed, all one after another that Andy marked off the list, Luke Evans’ appearance turned Richard’s head, not knowing he was playing King Jon’s Nephew and the son of the sick owner of the estate. Sean Bean and David Wenham also passing through feigning to be lawyers instead of the elder two of a trio of Wizards. Handfuls of lines were traded between tasks until you were seemingly gone and Andy motioned you had been moved to Peter’s filming area outside signaling his turn to find you.

With a grin he caught you after yet another shirt change with a brushing of dirt to be coated over your jeans. Random yard work tasks were filmed with more servants and moments to run into Luke until you were kneeling in front of a blue mat. Turning around at Luke’s approach your eyes would move to the window you could clearly see Viggo Mortinson through, the third Wizard, playing the bedridden owner making your head tilt. An odd shake of the bush behind you turned you again before your sudden lift to a crouch to flip forward onto your back. Giggling to yourself you tilted your head back calling out, “Another take?”

Peter chuckled saying, “I think two more should do it Dear.”

With a chuckle Luke reached down to help you up to your feet again to get back to your former spot before he trotted backwards to his former mark. Wetting your lips you couldn’t help but grin seeing the silent Richard giving you a brief wave from behind the camera that rolled back to the first spot and you faced the bushes readying to turn again at your cue.

Final cut was called and fully changed out of your clothes you made your way out to the garden where you paused seeing the arrival of your brother into your sight chatting with your Grandfather. Lowering your eyes you started looking around inching up the sleeves of your sweater catching Richard’s eye again at your curious behavior until he caught the reason why. A small girl raced across the grass shouting, “Mommy!” Crouching down your grin split across your face to wrap her in your arms. With lips parted Richard along with the other actors eyed the miniature version of you grinning madly only to crash into your when her identical brothers tackled the three of you into the grass making you giggle in their joined shout of, “Mommy!”

Guiding the three of them up in your arms you helped them onto your lap for the eruption of giggles and squeals from the three in your coating them with kisses ending with their helping you up to your feet in tugging on your outstretched hands stirring chuckles from the actors. “So, have you been exploring?”

The three of them nodded and you eyed the group of actors nearing you and your adorable trio with spreading grins that flinched at your daughter’s turn to them ending with a wide eyed expression through a sharp shriek making you mouth an apology to the group before your sons leapt forward to latch onto Sean’s legs in tight hugs, “Boromir!”

Tilting your head forward through their group latching onto each of their legs in shouting the names of their characters they knew them by ending with Richard, who crouched at your sons’ tugs on the end of his shirt only to chuckle at their brushing his hair back to look at his ears. Your eldest son saying, “See, they aren’t huge!”

Richard, “For the film we had fake ears to match the padding.”

Your daughter’s hand rubbed his stubbly cheek with a giggle saying, “Your beard is growing.”

Chuckling lowly he stole a glance at you in her turn away to trot curiously back to David who was chatting with your sons, “Yes it is.” Instantly his eyes shifted back to you and he rose up again confirming your near identical brother, though over a foot taller and broader beside a slender redhead with hazel eyes he decided far from related to you past marriage leaving his presence a mystery. Hopefully not being the father of said trio, who he completely understood why you hadn’t mentioned them before when you hadn’t talked about either of your families, but being near you enough he knew, unless you were the type to despise a wedding band, you were not married. But no matter the reasoning for how you had split with the father he couldn’t be mad at the surprise when it came in such an adorable package.

“Hi.”

Chuckling lowly he replied, “Hi.”

“I’m sorry, about the shrieking and ear pulling and cheek rubbing.”

Chuckling lowly he replied, “No need to apologize.”

Around his legs little arms wrapped and your free daughter hugged yours asking, “Mommy, is he coming to dinner too?”

Your sons pouted up at you parting your lips and making Richard laugh to himself in the trio pleading, “Please?!”

Richard grinned as your brother Jay who said, “Pot roast, if you’re feeling adventurous.”

Richard nodded, “I would love to.” Peering down at the cheering trio who grabbed his hands to lead you all to the waiting car that would take to your home through the sneaking away of actors at calls from their handlers that their rides were there leaving the Directors and crews to pick up.

Giggles and stories filled your dinner, through which Richard swore he’d never smiled so much. Even through the shift into the quickly abandoned game of checkers dying in another fit of giggles followed by a chasing game through the distraction of a mention of a book sending them off for the sketch pads and crayons leaving you adults to a try for some conversation. Clearly now, Steven, the redhead now named as your brother’s partner, was of no threat to Richard’s try to win you over for a date. Lost in your own sharing of plans, now oddly including the couple driving halfway across the island to their rental home for the summer break with your children who were now seemingly lost to the world in their creative fire.

Your eyes rolled at your Steve’s mention of how much you loved to watch Robin Hood with the trio making Richard chuckle again at their shared love for the series and say with a nudge of his elbow to yours, “Not many remember me in that.”

With a smirk you asked, “Who could forget you all sassy in eyeliner and head to toe leather on an equally sassy horse.” Spreading a grin across his face.

“Just something about me on a horse that makes me disappear.”

A soft giggle escaped you and in a mumble raising his glass to his lips your brother whispered, “Marry him.”

Before you could even roll your eyes Richard’s grin flinched at your children asking, “You’re getting married?!” Shooting up to their feet to wrap around the actor grinning wider at your deepening blush and pointed glare at your brother mouthing, “Thank you.”

He mumbled back, “I swear, I could shout their names but I whisper and they could hear a mouse talking a mile away.”

Your daughter hugged his arm tighter along with her brothers on his other and his neck from behind who excitedly shout, “We’re gonna have another Daddy!”

Daughter, “Then I’ll really be a Dwarf Princess, and I’ll tell Jeffrey he can just bite me!”

You giggle and rub your fingers over your face “You know you’re not supposed to say that in school.” Making Richard chuckle to himself at her momentary defensive pout.

“But I didn’t say it in school.”

You nod “That’s right. Just please remember that when you see Jeffrey.”

She nodded and her brother said, “Tell him to suck it!”

You rubbed your face again as Richard chuckles and your third son asked, “What? Daddy says it.”

With a grin you replied lowering your hands, “Oh, we are going to be best friends with the principal I see.”

In waving the group off away from your rental home after having carried your slumbering children to their car seats you strolled with Richard back to your porch so you could fetch your keys to drive him to his place. “I’m sorry.” He looked down at you with brows raised catching your flinching glance up at him, “About the marriage comment.”

He chuckled lowly, “Oh it’s no problem. I absolutely adore them.”

“Yes. Very adorable, and very opinionated.”

Again he chuckled playfully purring, “Three guesses who they inherited that from.”

“Ha ha.” You said opening the front door to fetch your keys. In another glance up at him you caught the question in his gaze he was respectfully holding back from asking, “I know I didn’t mention, my kids, but-,”

He shook his head, “No, you don’t have to apologize. I understand, we’d only spoken a few times.”

“It’s sort of,” you sighed and wet your lips leaning against the wall signaling his lean back to sit on the back of the couch nipping at his lip ready to hear you share, “I come from a very long line of successful people. And there were certain expectations. So me and Jay did our best. He’s a make up artist for a film company back in England, Steve is a plastic surgeon, part of the only reason mom and dad accepted their relationship.”

He nodded and you continued, “I got accepted to Cambridge,”

“Wow.”

You giggled then said, “I was also a world championship figure skater, when I got pregnant. Instantly I was the failure of the family, and in support of me we split from them,” he nodded again as you wet your lips anxiously, “my fiancé, he was a grand prix driver-.” Raising his brows, “He died, and um, well, I wanted more than anything to keep them, but I had my acceptance letter and nowhere to live and obviously I had to retire from skating.” Your head tilted for a moment and you continued, “I just remember crying over it, and then Steve and Jay sat me down, they picked a house and gave me a key. It still wasn’t legal for them to get married, let alone adopt them but at least they wouldn’t be sent off to some strangers out where I couldn’t be a part of their life.”

Richard nodded again, “It was hard, leaving them for school, and then random jobs after, but for the most part Gramps raised us and the kids know we all love them. And even when I’m away for months I call daily, well, I’ve missed four calls.” A grin eased back across his face, “Oh the first missed call was awful. I got off this miserable shift from assembling the sets for a musical and it was an awful 19 hour monster of a day and I just died when I got home. And I just jolted up two hours later and just burst into tears and calmed down long enough to call them, they were barely a year old but still-,”

After a pause you said, “I know, it’s a lot.”

He shook his head, “No. It must have been unbearable at first. I know my mum said working after me and Chris was just dreadful for, well, shy of, thirty years or so.” Making you giggle as he chuckled and wet his lips in your grabbing the keys and pulling off the wall. “I think it’s amazing you manage to make it work. Do you live far from them?”

“No. We have a mother in laws cottage for me. When I’m working they like to keep it separate I tend to pace or snack and they need their sleep. Plus, I mean, I had this show a few years ago, got off it and decided to take some time off,”

“Really, how did that go?”

You giggled locking the door behind you leading him to the car, “Oh it was marvelous, for about eight months and then my kids told me to go back to work.” He chuckled as you giggled, “Apparently they thought I was going to get upset because when I travel I send home gifts and postcards I love their reactions. So they insisted I not sit at home all the time waiting for them to get back from pre k or their little clubs.”

“Well, I know if I had you all to myself I would never send you away.”

“Ooh, you know how to sweep a woman off her feet.” You said that with a giggle bumping your elbow to his, “Careful you might just force a proposal out of me.”

He chuckled in your next giggle then purred by your ear, “Don’t tempt me.” You glance up at him and he eases his arm around your middle and leans in to kiss your forehead.

Unlocking the car you were freed and you both took your seats continuing to chat through the short drive before he headed inside with a stolen peck on your cheek and a wave in your turning to head back to your rental again.

Pt 3

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Highland Destiny Chapter 10 ~Spring Has Sprung~

"Ah, Jamie come in, come in...take a seat." Ned Gowan motioned with a wave of his hands as Jamie was ushered into his office by his secretary. "I'm so glad ye can come. I will try and make this as quick as possible."

Ned Gowan, Fraser's family lawyer, had called early Monday morning after the weekend of the ball, urging James Fraser to see him as soon as possible.

"Ned, ye said it's an emergency?" Jamie shook the elderly man's hand before sitting down.

Ned Gowan took some papers from his desk drawer and stacked them neatly in a row in front of him. "Aye, it concerns Château Cheval Blanc. I personally think ye should put off the sales of yer shares...weel at least for now until I can establish the validity of my theory. I have reason to believe that our mystery shareholder may soon surface. But before I proceed, I do have a question...do ye know or have ye heard of the name Jonathan Edward Randall? Or if by any chance your uncle mentioned the name in the past."

"Jonathan...Jonathan," Jamie's brow furrowed in concentration as he uttered the name. "Aye, uncle mentioned that name a few times when I worked in his winery as a young lad. An old foe he once said...set on destroying him...I believe that's what uncle said. I understand that this person has been deceased for some time."

Ned's eyes lit up and quickly leafed through one of the stacks of papers. "Hmmm, interesting ye should say that. Firstly, we have a couple of the late Jonathan Edward Randall's lawyers enquiring about yer shares, and I find that quite suspicious considering Randall is long dead. Secondly, not too long ago, we dug up some old business records from Frédéric de Marillac. And as it turned out, Jonathan Edward Randall was once his business associate and long-standing friend. They go a long way back when they were students in Oxford. From your statement, there is a high probability that Frédéric de Marillac had been buying the shares for Jonathan Edward Randall. We have found a copy of one particular shareholder agreement. This contract was especially drawn-up for de Marillac, meaning this did not apply to all shareholders. There are two paragraphs I find highly interesting in de Marillac's contract. First one is, it states here, he may assign a successor to his shares without the approval of the other shareholders and the second one states here that upon the death of the shareholder, the deceased shareholder stocks are to be bequeathed to the next of kin. Yer uncle must have been quite desperate to sign such a contract. Now, Jonathan Edward Randall's next of kin was Franklin Wolverton Randall or also known as Frank Randall."

His thoughts were on Claire and were only half-listening to Ned Gowan when Jamie suddenly sat straight up. "Frank Randall?"

Ned ignored the interruption and carried on. "Now Frank Randall died five years ago and left behind a widow. At the moment we cannot find any documents of the widow's name. It's as if her identity has been erased overnight. This should have been a public record, but we cannot find Frank Randall's marriage certificate. But we did find phone records of de Marillac contacting Frank Randall's former residence. But there are no records of that contact reciprocated. And last but not least, we were able to acquire a bank transfer statement with a substantial amount of money sent to de Marillac. And this money came from Jonathan Edward Randall. To summarise the hypothesis, the money transferred, we believe was used to buy the shares. And because of the agreement signed between your uncle and de Marillac, we have reason to believe that Frank Randall's widow is our elusive shareholder by default. She is Frank Randall's next of kin."

Dhia Claire! Jamie was dumbfounded. "What is the probability that yer theory is correct? I thought the secret shareholder hold only 15% of the share."

Ned Gowan leaned back on his chair and smiled, looking satisfied with himself. "We found in some old records that the 15% share was under Frank Randall's name, making the probability of my theory very high, but I have a few people investigating and will confirm in the next few days. The good news is if the widow does surface, and we can prove that de Marillac's shares are legally hers, ye can make an attempt to buy it from her. With yer charm and popularity with the ladies, I don't think that should be too difficult for ye. So Jamie lad, what do you propose we do next once we have established the name of our secret shareholder?"

"Sell my shares to the secret shareholder at a fraction of the price, " Jamie answered, his face expressionless.

"What!?!"

..........

Claire got out of her car. She had been expecting the garden to be unkempt and over-grown, but instead, found a well-kept yard with arrays of wildflowers, herbs and spring flowers in full bloom. It had been three weeks since she was last at the cottage and it was on the night before she left for the St. Agnes Charity Ball. Claire had been staying at Joe's, and he was kind enough to let her stay in his apartment, considering he lived half the time at Gail's townhouse. He had insisted Claire stayed for as long as she needed knowing she wasn't in the right place to be alone in the cottage.

Ever since the night she walked away from Jamie, he had been continually trying to reach her via phone, messages, emails and sometimes through her friends. It took a lot of willpower not to succumb to his pleas, but Claire knew she needed the time and space for herself to heal and to sort out her feelings. She had been astounded at the force of her anger and intensity of her pain during that disastrous night. She knew she never wanted to feel that way again.

Geillis had been a blessing throughout the past few weeks. She had taken upon herself to take care of Claire's needs: retrieving a few of her clothes from the cottage and her car, admonishing Jamie for his stupidity and acting as their mediator. Geillis had found out the whole truth after hollering and shouting all sorts of abuse at Jamie when she came to the cottage. He had been silent, contrite and close to tears which was very much a far cry from the self-assured and cocky Jamie she knew from all the years she had known him. And of course, there was that headline news from the Daily Mail, much to the horror of Claire, plastered on the front page, DISTILLERY KING DITCHES FIANCEE FOR LADY IN RED. There were two photos under the headline. One was of a scowling Jamie dragging Annalise and another of Claire and Jamie kissing. Bloody tacky journalistic piece of shit! She had thought then.

"Claire, what do ye want to do? Ye cannae hide here forever. Do ye love him?" Geillis had asked one evening over takeaway dinner.

"Oh, I do Geillis. I wouldn't be in this mess if I didn't. But I'm scared... too scared..."

"Och come here." Geillis had gathered Claire to her arms. "Listen, hen, it's reasonable to be scared, but runnin' away wilnae help. I've known Jamie since he was a wee laddie. Ah ken he'd done a lot of stupid things in th' past, but he'd done a lot of good too, like puttin' a lot of money in St. Agnes' restoration an' other stuff like that. He's got a big heart, an' th' media hae portrayed him a playboy. Sure he had other women in th' past, but ah have ne'er seen him in such a state before. He's in love wi' ye, Claire, an' it breaks mah heart that both of ye are sufferin' like this."

Claire had given Geillis' words a lot of thought, and she knew she had to confront Jamie sooner or later. So it was on one untypical warm spring day, on the way to the garden centre when she decided to stop by the cottage. It was on the spur of the moment decision as if some force of nature was guiding her. She was dressed in jean shorts, a white sweatshirt with a Union Jack print and white sneakers. She had been planning on taking a walk in the open fields after plant shopping.

The cottage was tranquil when she arrived, and she didn't see Jamie's vehicle or noticed any presence. She had quickly gotten out of the car before she could change her mind but not before taking an A4 size envelope she meant to give to Jamie from the compartment. She knew Jamie had stayed in the cottage all that while and he had told Geillis he will only leave if Claire wished it. Secretly, Claire was glad he stayed.

Walking through the front garden, she was amazed at how beautiful it had turned out to be. It had been her plan ever since she arrived to plant some medicinal herbs and wildflowers and put a trellis on the cottage exterior wall for some climbing plants. It seemed someone had already done the job for her.

Inside the cottage, everything was spic and span, and in every room, there was a vase with a bouquet of wildflowers in assorted colours. She was just placing the envelope on the coffee table in the living room when she felt a presence from the doorway. She turned around and saw a very stunned Jamie standing there. Claire didn't even hear him come in.

"Sassenach..." His voice was almost a whisper. Jamie's hair was a tad bit longer and curlier from his usual wavy locks, and he had several days old beard, making him look like some medieval Norse warrior. He was wearing a black shirt, and grey sweat pants and his skin was very bronzed, probably from working in the garden or running.

"Hi, Jamie," Claire stammered, "I'm sorry for coming unannounced...I was just driving by..., and I thought I'd stop and...I didn't see your car, and I thought ..."

Jamie took a few steps forward as if to reach out but stopped himself midway. "Claire, what are ye talking about? This is yer home," he said softly. He then ran his hand through his hair, quite unsure what to do next, he took a deep breath and muttered, "Christ Sassenach I've missed ye so much. Would ye mind verra much if I kiss and hug ye?" His eyes were full of yearning, but he was very cautious.

Looking at his beautiful deep blue eyes, all doubts seemed to dissipate. "No, I don't mind Jamie but..." Before she could finish her sentence, Jamie had Claire in his arms, kissing her with so much tenderness. The kiss was not one of seduction, nor of demand. It was a kiss full of longing and outpouring of love. Claire gave in and put her arms around his neck as a single tear ran down her cheek. He smelled of sweat, fresh air and tasted of mint, and she loved the feel of his stubble against her skin.

"Oh Christ Claire, I'm so verra sorry for everything," Jamie murmured in between air. "I don't ever want to lose ye again. So so sorry..." He rained kisses all around her face before kissing her deeply once again.

As his hands wandered up from under her sweatshirt, Claire stopped him. "Jamie, please..." She gently placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him. Like his, her breathing had become shallow. Although she didn't want the kiss to end, there were still a lot of unanswered questions.

Confused, Jamie searched her face. "Don't ye want me anymore, Sassenach?"

"Jamie, that's not it. We need to talk. We can't just start from where we left off as if nothing happened..."

Still dazed from the kiss, Jamie managed to regain control, "Aye, that's true...come we'll take a seat." Without letting go of her hands, he led her to the sofa. He turned to face her and sighed. "Look Sassenach, everything I've ever told ye was true, but I admit I omitted some parts of the whole story...and as for Annalise, I never told ye about her because the last time I was with her, it was almost 9 months ago. I'm not proud tellin ye this, but our relationship was never one ye can really call a relationship. Geillis must have told ye the whole story surely. And also, I was going to tell ye on the night of the ball about Frisealach, but Annalise happened. I suppose ye know already I own the distillery."

"But why didn't you tell me you owned the distillery? I asked a few times about your job, and you always came up with some feeble answer, such as working in the administration. I suppose that's part of your work, so I guess there's some truth to it. And I don't even know where you live...you only spoke of your family home, but that's a couple hours away from here. I don't suppose you travelled every day from Lallybroch to Inverness."

"I don't know Sassenach why I never told ye the things I should have. There are a lot of things I should have done and not done, but ever since I laid eyes on ye, I haven't been thinking clearly. I haven't been myself. After we made love for the first time, I couldna bear to leave yer side, and before I knew what was happening, I just slotted into yer life. It seemed to be the most natural thing in the world to be with ye. Before meeting ye, I lived in a luxury apartment in the town centre. Aye it's posh, and it has everything, but it has no soul. I never felt at home in it. With ye here, it's the first time I've ever felt at home outside Lallybroch."

Claire gave him a mock warning look. "Jamie, are you trying to charm your way out of this?"

Jamie smiled and took her hand and kissed the inside of her palm. In a serious tone, he answered, "No. I promise you it's the truth. It's like I'm under yer spell and, to be honest, I'm only too happy to remain there."

"How about those string of women in the papers, internet and magazine? I saw photos of you with different women each time..."

"Christ Sassenach, do ye really think I slept with all of them? If I did, I wouldna had time to run my companies. It's a marketing ploy to be seen with the right people and to introduce my whisky in Europe and truth be told, I hated every moment of it. I dinna care for a celebrated lifestyle. Everything about it was very superficial, and ye have to be mindful all the time of what ye say in public. That's no easy thing for me - I grew up in a family that says their mind a lot. No Sassenach, it wasn't for me."

"So, what do you want of me? From us?"

Jamie got off the sofa to kneel in front of Claire. Then taking her hands in both of his, he looked into her eyes. "Claire, I want to be with ye. I have never wanted anyone as much as I wanted ye and I promise there'll only be truth between us." His voice cracked, and his eyes turned to a darker hue. "Ye see Sassenach, whenever I look at ye, my heart starts to pound, when for years, I dinna think it beat at all. I dinna ken what was missing in my life until ye came and filled in the holes and took away the emptiness. And when you're not by my side, the loss is unimaginable. The night I carried ye out from St. Agnes and looked down upon yer face, I knew I was ruined for life. Totally, utterly ruined. I can't be good for anybody now, except for ye. What I'm trying my hardest to say is, I love ye, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. And I am scairt because ye have my heart now in yer hands."

"Jamie.."

"Sssh." He placed a finger on her lips. "Sassenach, may I kiss ye?" Jamie didn't want to hear what Claire had to say in fear she may not feel the same way. Without waiting for her to reply, he pulled her tight against him and kissed her softly, one hand behind her neck as his thumb caressed a sensitive part just under her earlobe. She tasted of warm honey, and her skin as soft as the petals from the flowers. "Claire, will ye stay with me tonight?" he asked hoarsely.

The spell broke when Claire was reminded of her plans for that night. "Oh Jamie, I can't tonight...I've already made arrangements..." Although rattled by his confession, she wanted to stay, but this time she didn't want to rush things between them. One baby step at a time!

Jamie tried to hide his disappointment, and gave her a smile instead, not wanting to rock the boat. "Are ye going out with Geillis?" he asked.

"No, I'm meeting up with Tom tonight." Claire felt him stiffen and gave him an apologetic look, knowing that both men had some sort of disagreement.

"Oh! Are ye seeing him...I mean is it a date?" Jaime was no longer smiling, but he kept his hold on her.

Claire reached out to touch his face and sighed. "No Jaime, it's not like that. It's just for a couple of drinks. I promised him a few days ago that I will see him. And then I have some things I need to do for Joe...medical kinds of stuff."

Feeling slightly heartened, Jamie asked in a hopeful voice, "Errm, Sassenach, can I see ye tomorrow?" His finger was tucking a lock behind her ear.

"How about lunch before I go to work tomorrow...that's if you're not too busy being a boss?" Claire asked, good-humouredly. "I start work late...we have a few shift changes this week."

Thinking that lunch would be a longer wait, he suggested an alternative. "How about breakfast? I will bring it up to ye, so ye didna need to dress." Jamie attempted a wink before giving her a suggestive smile.

Claire laughed. "Alright breakfast then but not too early...I was planning on sleeping in. I'm staying at Joe's apartment. You remember where he lives?"

"Aye." He nodded.

"Oh by the way, before I leave, this is for you." Claire took the brown envelope from the coffee table she had earlier and placed it in Jamie's hand.

"Sassenach," he said, giving her a suspicious look. "This is not a goodbye letter, is it?" He frowned as he weighed it in his hands.

"No Jaime." She gave him a lingering kiss, telling Jamie with her own lips how much she loved him too.

.........

It was probably not a great idea to meet Tom at the Scotch & Rye Pub. It was Saturday, it was loud, it was teeming with employees from Frisealach and Laoghaire MacKenzie was there. Most likely, Jamie could walk in any minute soon. They found an empty high table near the entrance and quickly took it.

"Claire, what would you like to drink?" Tom's soft voice broke into her contemplation.

Distracted, she replied, "Oh, a glass of dry white, please." She had been thinking of what Jamie said earlier in the afternoon.

Claire watched as Tom made his way to the bar. She saw Laoghaire approached him at the counter, smiling sweetly at him as she placed well-manicured painted fingers on his arm. She saw her opened her bag as she continued to chat with him and took a few pound notes from her purse to give to the bartender.

Claire smiled as Tom came back with their drinks, but her smile quickly faded away as she saw Laoghaire was right behind Tom. "Claire, the drinks are from Laoghaire, she says it's a truce and apologies offering."

"Oh! Well then, thank you, Laoghaire, that's very kind of you!" She raised her glass to her. "To truce and forgiveness." Her heart warmed a bit for the girl, but she still felt slightly uneasy about her mannerism.

"Och think nothin' of it. Anyway, I hope ye both enjoy yer date!" Before Claire could protest its not a date, she had turned around sauntering towards the Frisealach employees' table.

Once alone, Tom revealed, "She's a funny girl her. She asked me a week ago, here in the pub, if I fancied ye. I told her it was none of her business." He leaned forward and in a lower voice, he continued, "Stay clear away from her, Claire. She might not seem to be the brightest, but I can't help but feel apprehensive whenever she's around. I think she's a bit of a gossip."

Claire laughed nervously, taking a big gulp of her wine, trying to dismiss the warning. "Don't worry. I think she's just young and full of mischief."

"Don't ye want to find out Claire?"

"Find out wot?" She took another sip of the wine and grimaced at the taste.

Tom leaned forward and smiled at her. "Whether or not I fancy ye?"

Claire thought he had a beautiful smile. "Well, do you?" she asked boldly. Suddenly Claire felt relax and loose-tongued. She stood up from her high chair to lean forward to remove a fluff off Tom's hair when suddenly she felt wobbly.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Feeling the room was spinning out of control, she attempted to sit back but instead ended up slipping into the darkness.

..........

Jamie was just walking into the pub when he saw Claire swayed precariously as she held onto the high table. Before she could fall and Tom could react, he caught her in time before she hit the floor.

He shot Tom an angry look as he propped Claire's head with his hands. "How much has she had to drink? Didn't ye think she might have had enough?"

"She's only had one glass, and she drank it too fast," Tom snapped, as he kneeled down to check Claire's pulse. People were gathering already, and he knew Claire needed air. "Listen, Fraser, I'll deal with this. I'm a doctor, and I'll make sure she gets to the hospital. Go and join yer friends."

Jamie was lifting Claire up already. "She lives with me, so she's practically like my wife, so back off Tommy," he growled, determined not to relinquish his hold. "I'm taking her, my car is just outside."

Unperturbed, Tom let Jamie carry Claire as he held the door open. "I'm coming with ye."

"Suit yersel'"

..........

Both men drove in silence as they headed to the Northern Royal Infirmary. Tom had called Joe and the hospital in advance as Jamie laid Claire in the passenger seat. When they finally got there, they were greeted by Gail, Joe Abernathy's girlfriend, who was the doctor on duty, and Claire was immediately put onto a wheeled stretcher and taken away.

Seeing the concern on both the men's faces, Gail guided them to the waiting area. "Listen, boys, it's probably not serious. Claire has been under a lot of stress, so it's probably just the repercussion rearing its ugly head. Wait here, please. We'll do some test, and I'm quite sure the results shouldn't take very long," she said, smiling warmly.

Quite contrary to what Gail said, both men waited two hours.

When Joe finally arrived in civilian clothes, Jamie and Tom were sat at opposite ends of the waiting area. He had just come out of the operating room when he heard the news about Claire and immediately went to see the doctor attending her. After reading the initial results, Joe volunteered to relay the report to Tom and Jamie. As soon as he appeared in the waiting area, both men stood up and were surprised when they saw he was accompanied by two security guards and two policemen. Joe liked both men, but his main concern was Claire at this very moment.

"Tom, Jamie, we have the result from the initial tests." His voice sounded stern and very professional. "But before I can reveal anything, I want to ask... who was with Claire when she blacked out?"

Tom raised a hand. "I was with her, and we were both on our first drink. She drank the wine rather quickly, and I was surprised that she seemed tipsy all of a sudden," he explained.

Joe closed his eyes before making a formal statement. "We have found traces of Ketamine in Claire's saliva and urine test. Ketamine is also known as Date Rape Drug, and we have a very strong suspicion of an attempted sexual assault." Turning to Tom, he proceeded, "I'm so sorry, Tom, I need to have you detained until further results come in..."

Before Joe could finish his sentence and the police could react, Jamie, with his hands clenched and his face dark red with fury, threw a punch at Tom Christie's face sending him sliding across the hospital floor and knocking him out cold.

Joe had also wanted to tell Jamie that Claire was pregnant, but he guessed it could wait later.

#melodyheart #highlanddestiny #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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