#i drew these all the way back in june before his route even came out in EN that's how bad I've had it for keith

[nazarbabe]

slowly going thru my ikemen prince OC sketches now that the semester is finally over (⌒ω⌒)

#EDIT: reformatted the pics [thumbs up emoji] #Awira is my MC for Keith is it wasn't clear lol #i drew these all the way back in june before his route even came out in EN that's how bad I've had it for keith #ikemen prince #ikepri #keith howell #OC

[utterlyinevitable]

On The Subject of Love

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao)  Word Count: 3.3k Warning: Tame. A few curse words and mentions of sex.  Summary: Becca coaxes Ethan into talking about his experience with love during their visit to Leland Bloom's yacht.  

Author’s Note: this took waaaaay too long to write and i’m still not sure i’m happy with it :/ but thank you @aylamwrites for pre-reading and leaving hilarious comments ❤

________________________________________

The drive to Leland Bloom’s yacht was staid, a direct contrast to the glorious sunshine surrounding the bubble of the sedan. Ethan was navigating the unfamiliar route to the private yacht club with extreme disdain. His ego wanted to resolve this case and finally put an end to this petulant competition with Mass Kenmore Hospital. Sitting in the passenger seat of his car was his favorite accomplice, Becca, calmly staring blankly out the window and still so unsure of his feelings towards her. 

She knew she riled him up when she went behind his back to seek out the first high-profile patient, influencer Gwenyth Monroe. Though, in her defense, the man wasn’t actively trying to save the Diagnostics Team from the budgetary chopping block. Ethan Ramsey was always so blinded by his pride and ethics - He did the same with their future as well. But, Becca also knew she stepped over the line this morning when she called him a spoiled child in front of Baz and June at Mr. Bloom’s estate. Though she didn't really regret it because someone had to tell him off, the interaction still left a bad taste in her mouth. 

Becca wasn’t too sure where they stood - professionally or romantically. The words Ethan spoke not too long ago in the dark of his office rang through her head: I want to know you as you truly are. 

That was a few weeks ago. There he was breaking down their simply professional facade once again. It was a constant tug-of-war with him. Some days Ethan would let the wall crumble by letting her in or grabbing her hand, and others where he’d build it higher than before just to keep the force of Becca at bay. She didn’t realize how sweet of a memory the two of them creating his Pictagram account during that late-night research session would become. 

He’s such an old man… 

Ethan cut through her reverie, “What are you thinking about?” 

With her gaze fixed on the passing trees and her mind still half-stuck in her daydream, she responded without further consideration, “Do you really never want to get married?”  

Ethan’s brow furrowed at the random intrusion, needing to think before settling on a response. “Are you still stuck on this?”

The two sometimes-lovers spoke briefly about his views on the subject while working on Gwenyth’s case late into the evening. To Becca it was one of the most important questions in building their not-so-subtle budding relationship - she needed to know if Ethan was worth all the… complications. He spoke about how he didn’t believe in soulmates, unconditional love, and his doubts on marriage as an intuition. He never once spoke about his experience with love.   

Looking out the window into the cloudless end of summer day, Becca boldly asked, “Haven’t you ever been in love? Wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone you’ve dated?” 

“Oh god, no,” he scoffed with wide pale blue eyes. “I told you, Rookie, I don’t see the point.”

She rolled her disbelieving brown eyes and let the conversation pause there as they pulled up to the dock. 

***

After the yacht set sail the doctors waited around the stern in a restive silence for 45 minutes while Mr. Bloom wrapped up his business meeting. Once safely away from the prying eyes of investors and colleagues in the yacht's master bedroom, Ethan and Becca begin to run tests and scans on the deteriorating businessman. 

“Mr. Bloom, can I ask you and Caroline a question?” Becca asked as she drew a few samples of blood. “It has nothing to do with your case. Me and my friend here are debating something,” she nodded her head at Ethan’s general direction.  

The patient looked between the two with a devious smile, “Sure, swing.” 

Becca quickly peered over at Ethan standing at an expensive gold and glass table with the mobile sonogram machine, his arms crossed and waiting for her to enlighten the room with her inquiry. 

She shot him a coy smile before turning back to the worldly man and asking, “How did you know you wanted to get married?” 

Ethan stifled a surprising cough. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought she’d ask a complete stranger that. 

Mr. Bloom smiled as he instantly recalled every moment he has ever spent with his now-wife. 

Closing his eyes he recited, “We’ve been business partners for decades - since college, actually. We were married about 11 years ago. I’ve known her my entire adult life and waited until I was almost 50 to tell her how I really felt.” 

His eyes opened and found Caroline sitting in the chair by the large bay window immediately. The two looking adoringly at one another for a few seconds, speaking volumes in the language of love. For a moment Becca’s heart panged with hope that she could have that level of fondness with a man - that unconditional and unencumbered attachment that precedes words. 

“My recommendation is to tell the other person you have feelings for them from the get-go. It’ll buy you time together. Its - it’s the most precious thing in the world to be with the one you love most.”   

The way Leland Bloom spoke about his wife humanized him - he wasn’t a cut-throat businessman with oligarch-like wealth. He was a man who wanted as much time with his loved one as this world would permit, no matter the cost. 

“But how did you know she was the one?” Becca quizzed further. 

Mr. Bloom looked at Ethan's awkward form first and then to Becca as he asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

Ethan’s attention was focused on watching the images printing, deeply embarrassed by Becca’s brazen question and wanting no part of the conversation. Feeling everyone’s gaze on him he took in the three expectant stares and exclaimed incredulously, “Wha - Of course I have!”   

Becca smiled at the old man, “Yes.” 

“Do you remember how it felt?” Leland’s eyes bore into Becca’s begging the memories to surface. 

She nodded. 

Becca peered over at Ethan for a split second, his eyes meeting hers. She could see the curiosity swirling around his dark blue orbs alongside something else. Feeling ashamed for getting caught staring she bit her lip and tore her eyes away from him before she could even try to pinpoint just what the mystery emotion was.

“It’s like that,” Leland reassured. “But you’re constantly drawn to one another. The simplest and meaningless of tasks make you the happiest. You can sit in the same room in your own little world of silence together. Your heart swells when you look at them.” Like before his eyes flashed over to Caroline. “You’re never bored. And you can rely on them. The most telling sign was that I knew I needed her in my life even before I knew I had feelings for her. The intimacy was an added bonus.” 

He smiled up at his wife who now stood close by with an affectionate hand on her husband’s shoulder.  

“Would you agree, darling?” 

She nodded only for him. “I knew he was my person when he’d stand up for me. He wouldn’t let anyone belittle me or my intelligence. He challenged me to be a better person and comforted me when I needed it. He’s the best partner I could ask for.” Caroline’s body shifted to Becca though her eyes never left Leland’s, “Does that help your debate?” 

Becca looked over at Ethan who didn’t have an inkling of amusement in his features. “I think you’ve just proved my point, but I'll give him a few minutes to form a rebuttal,” she winked at the couple. 

They shared a pleasant laughter at Ethan’s expense. 

“Ok, Mr. Bloom, you’re all set,” Becca beamed as they finished their examination. “We’ll give you a call once we have the results from the lab later today.” 

With a nod of his head Mr. Bloom replied, “Good evening, doctors.” 

Ethan didn’t say a word as they disembarked the vessel. 

“So…” she started, expecting him to begin arguing his case on the disillusion of soulmates. 

Ethan wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. 

The walk back to his sedan was stewing in awkward tension under the afternoon raging heat. More than halfway back to the car Becca had just come to accept the fact that Ethan wasn’t going to engage in their little intellectual tiff when he spoke with a critical eye;   

“How many people have you presumably been in love with?” 

She certainly didn’t expect that to be his first rebuttal. It almost made Becca drop the medical bag she was holding. Almost.  

She simply responded, “Two. You?” 

Over her shoulder she saw Ethan walking straight and stoically, eyes fixed ahead. He was ever so expertly guarded and displaying no telling emotions. 

“Three, maybe,” he shrugged, not giving it a second thought.  

“Maybe?” 

“I don’t think teenage relationships could really count as love.”

“So we won’t count it,” Becca agreed with a small nod. “My number stands at 2.”  

They made it to the car and Ethan popped the truck for them to put the gear. He fussed with the equipment, taking slightly longer than necessary to make sure the bag with the blood samples were safe and secure. Becca eyed him carefully from the sidelines expectantly. 

With a loud thunk of the trunk and eyes glued to the license plate, he hesitated, “One.” 

“Tell me about her.” Becca demanded sweetly as she moved to open the passenger side door. “Or I can go first?” 

“Please,” he motioned for her to continue as they settled into his sedan. 

Becca took a cleansing breath as she buckled herself in for the journey. 

“It was my first year of undergrad. His name was Mack.” Becca could almost hear the roll of Ethan’s eyes as she stared out her window. “We dated for a year and broke up because my workload got intense and I couldn't go out much.” She took a pause as she remembered all those meaningful moments that came to define her adult-self. “He was a liberal arts major, really outgoing. He brought me out of my shell and taught me to be the person I am today. I’m really thankful for him, but more grateful that it didn’t work. I loved him, but I know now I definitely wasn’t in love with him. Looking back I don't even know how we would have made anything work.” Becca chuckled to herself. “He works in television now.”

There was a pause before she continued onto the second romantic love she’s ever experienced. Part of her hoped Ethan would jump in with an antidote. 

Still, he kept his eyes on the road ahead. 

“My last relationship was during med school. He was something else,” Becca continued with a vibrant smile. “We had great chemistry and a good time together.” 

The affection in her voice for the nameless man instinctively had Ethan gripping at the wheel just tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Medical school wasn’t more than two years in her past, still enough time for the exes to find their way back to one another… 

“We thought we were supposed to be together because that’s what you’re told as a kid - go to school, find your soulmate, get that good job, get married and have babies. We groomed each other to be all that. But the pressure of trying to be someone’s perfect person was too much. He went to California and I went to Boston. I don’t know what he’s up to today.”

Her smile faltered as she wordlessly recalled the day she and Thomas Miller III walked out of one another’s life for good. Ethan would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little relieved to know her break up was not amicable.  

“Your turn.” 

Becca didn’t have the strength to turn and face him, the still-raw memories were playing out against the glass of the rear-view mirror and she couldn’t banish them just yet.

Ethan began to recite his past relationship like a bulleted list, checking off any sort of pertinent information; “It was for nearly 10 months. During medical school. She was gracious and brilliant. We never saw much of each other but when we did we had the most riveting medical debates. It was good fun.” 

“That’s it?” Becca questioned in astonishment. Her brows were furrowed as she tried to keep her mouth from hanging open. How could someone look back on their first love with such displeasure? Even if it ended horribly the feeling of being in love is magical... and shouldn’t that in itself be celebrated?  

He nodded. 

Becca folded her arms across her chest and bit her lip as she pondered his words. 

With the slightest scoff Becca boldly concluded, “I don’t think you were in love.” 

Ethan was taken aback, clenching his jaw tightly in blatant refusal of conveying his surprise at her account of what happened with his heart while she was still in grade school. “How would you know?” he retorted.  

“Because if you were you’d see each other all the time,” she responded simply and with a jovial lightness - like she’d cracked an undefined code. “You’d forgo sleep to spend some time together. You’d talk about your insecurities, your family, your dreams of the future. Not just medicine and cases.” 

“You’re romanticising it.”  

That one phrase stirred something up deep inside Becca. Who was he to tell her those things didn’t matter in a relationship? Those are the things they talk about and she… she wouldn’t admit to it. With that one romantic phrase they dove back into the quarrel Ethan so desperately didn’t want to be having. 

Undeterred by consequences she countered, “How often did you have sex?”  

“Excuse me.”  

“You heard me,” she challenged.  

Ethan let out a long breath of air. They were stuck together for at least another 25 minutes and there wasn’t a single thing he could say to dodge his way out of this one. Although he didn’t like the fact, they both were acutely aware that Rebecca is the only person who could ever ask him an impudent question. She had earned that right that night he crossed the line and they ruined one another in the most pleasurable of ways.

“Once, maybe twice a month, I think.”

“Months!?” Becca practically jumped out of her seat. Her head whipped around to face him.  

Ethan hadn’t moved from the upright position and tight grip on the steering wheel she noted when they began their journey back to Edenbrook. The only thing that was running through Becca’s mind as she gawked at the admirable DNA of the man beside her was: How?  

“It was a long time ago,” Ethan said, still completely unflappable. “I can’t remember correctly.” 

“I was lucky to have sex twice a week.” Gosh, there were so many questions fluttering around Becca’s mind that she just couldn’t find the right words to articulate how unfathomable his confession seemed. 

She watched as he raised an eyebrow, “You had other priorities.”  

“No,” she stopped him right there with a point of her finger. “I had the same education as you. In between classes, assignments and reading your entire body of work I found time to find time.” 

The corner of Ethan’s lip twitched when she mentioned her devotion to his life’s work. 

Becca couldn’t believe he dared question her priorities - he read her application, he knows just how diligent and qualified she is. 

She wanted to continue arguing but knew it was futile. Instead she asked another innocent question, “How many relationships have you been in since her?” 

“Hurm, one,” Ethan grumbled, “Harper.” He paused to look at Becca out the corner of his eye for any sort of reaction. She gave him no ill indications - Her alert brown eyes were on him and brows rose high, awaiting further explanation. The two have had a quick quip on his history with the surgeon, but nothing past hearsay. “We’ve been on and off since residency,” he told her once more. “Now can we stop talking about this?”

Becca conceded, settling back into the shiny black leather. “I can’t believe you dated Harper,” she mused as she played with her seatbelt strap, “You two are so…” 

“Different?” Ethan finished for her. “We actually have a lot of the same interests.”  

“Intense,” Becca grinned as she finished her train of thought. “But I'm glad you got along.”  

“We didn’t.”  

If she wasn’t confused by the attendings’ relationship before she sure as hell was now. “Wha- How? You just said you have a lot in common.”  

“Having similar interests and getting along are not mutually exclusive, Doctor,” Ethan smirked. 

With a slack jaw and eyes trained on him once more, Becca all but demanded, “Explain please.”  

“We were two people at the top of our respective classes,” he began. “Medical journal leeches were pitching us again and again. Everyone was pushing us together - a power couple, if you will.” 

“The pride of Edenbrook,” she muttered in understanding.  

Ethan nodded, “Pretty much.”  

“Did Naveen orchestrate your coupling?” she asked. “He loves a good gossip story.”  

Ethan shook his head once, “Naveen just wants me to be happy. At that moment he thought she’d make me happy.”  

Becca let his words settle amongst them. She shouldn’t feel unsettled by his honesty, yet she did. There were too many comparable variables coming to light today. 

Becca chewed on her bottom lip for a few pensive seconds before asking the fated question; “Did you like her?” 

As soon as the words fell off her tongue she shut her eyes. She didn't want to see the damage the words could cause, and yet her body craved the answer. 

“I had an affinity for her, if that’s what you mean,” he asked but didn’t give her the chance to clarify. “We had the same interests; both of us very career-orientated. Ultimately that’s what got in the way.” He paused for a moment, thinking carefully about his next words. He said them slowly and a decibel quieter than the last, “And that I didn’t have highly romantic feelings for her.” Just then Becca’s eyes shot open, fixed at his loosened grip of the steering wheel. “I still have a lot of respect and admiration for her.” 

A small smile crept up on Rebecca. Those words alone held all she needed to know - Harper Emery never was and never will be a contender for Ethan’s heart. 

“Then why do it?” 

He shrugged as his features settled back into their default stoicism, “It was the right thing to do. If we didn’t… people would spend the rest of our lives forcing us together.” 

She cocked an eyebrow, “So your relationship was a PR stunt…?”

“Absolutely not. I’m not a low-life, Becca.” He took pure offense that she thought he would do anything without a saturation of intention. “We tried because it seemed right. It seemed… inevitable... to try.”

“Huh, ok.” 

He used her words against her. ‘Inevitable’ was what they were. Does he feel the same way about their relationship that he felt about Harper? Surely he didn’t, but she’d have no way to know. Ethan Ramsey kept pushing her away, and yet years ago he refused to wait and chose to explore those ineludible feelings with someone else. 

Was Harper the reason we aren’t together, since he’s done the whole ‘inevitable’ tango before? She speculated.  

Ethan’s next comment broke through her trance, “Aside from those disasters called relationships I have spent time with a few other women. You can rest assured I’m not completely incapable of intimacy.” 

“I know you’re not a robot, Ethan,” she lamented. I’m happy to be one of those women. 

Becca was glad he opened up to her, and for their intimacy all those months ago. Though, the gnawing of how many other women Ethan Ramsey had taken to bed in the days without her or Harper Emery plagued her mind. She wanted to press further but knew not to - she pushed her luck too much for one day.

_____________________________________

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#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x harper #choices oph2 #oph series #oph ff #choices fanfic #ohsy

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

Thru the Window- Joe x Reader

(prompt: you're living in the Netherlands with the Def Leppard crowd while they're recording Hysteria. You're Joe's girlfriend, but you're both trying to keep your relationship a secret)

Inspired by the song "Thru the Window" by REO Speedwagon (a song about this ever so classic and adorable trope. I also tried to use as many of these lyrics as possible :3D)

------

(June 1986)

Joe's eyes shifted over to the clock on his nightstand yet again after another five seconds had passed. He just couldn't help himself. It was 11:22, and 11:35 couldn't possibly come soon enough. A warm breeze blew through his open window, hitting the bottoms of his feet as he lay flat on his back. There was adrenaline pulsing through him so ardently that he tried to will it away, but it was no use. He was too excited, and he had to wait at least another ten minutes or so before he could act on it.

His eagerness had certainly slowed down time itself tonight, and it had definitely gotten the better of him in multiple ways.

For one thing, his leg wouldn't stop bouncing. For another thing, he'd gotten changed far too early, and was laying on his bed in his date clothes. His "date clothes" (being a rather unflattering combination of a Cheap Trick t-shirt tucked into some sweatpants) weren't meant to be anything to look at, but he wanted to be as casual as possible. The goal was to be unrecognizable (as much as you could be at this time of night), but pleasing. 

Either way, Joe knew you wouldn't mind it. To him, these 'dates' you two had weren't done for the looks. You saw each other enough that you didn't give a shit about proper attire.

Joe's hands were neatly and formally folded on his stomach as he stared up at the dark ceiling of his hotel room. With nothing to distract him, his mind was on the verge of running mad. There were so many things he could've been thinking about as he waited, such as the tremendous progress that had been made in recording the new album, whether or not the jukebox at the pub got fixed yet, or what he'd have for breakfast the next morning.

What he actually chose to think of was "Why did I turn off the light, again?"

Some answers were quite simple.

"Oh yeah. Cos' to everyone else I'm 'asleep' right now."

The light being off was just a small but vital detail to the plan you two had for the night.

Once his own question was answered, his mind moved onto the next topic: another five seconds had passed. Joe turned his head to look at the clock again. 11:23. Great.

His head angled back upwards, seeing the imaginary dots and waves of colors appear before his eyes in the dark. His leg still bounced, his hands began to weave together, and he closed his eyes to hum the first tune that came to mind. It was necessary to drown out the sound of the ticking clock in his head.

Joe inhaled slowly, and held the breath for a quick instant. Just ten more minutes, he told himself. Ten more minutes, and then he could go. Ten more minutes. Ten. Two sets of five. Five sets of two. Just ten more-

"Fuck it," he lowly said as he sat up and put on his shoes. 

Oh well. These dates weren't about being on time, either. 'On time' was late, after all. He wanted to decide when the time had come.

After slipping on his shoes, double checking that he had his wallet, and triple checking that his door was locked, Joe pushed open the window sash to create a more ideal opening to slip through. Into the darkness he went, out onto the fire escape, then he descended to the ground below. He began on the second floor, so each step lower was done with the utmost caution. 

When he reached the next level, his heart jumped upon seeing the light still on in Malvin's room. Flattening himself next to the window, Joe carefully climbed over the railing of the fire escape and lowered himself down until it was safe enough to let go. 

His feet met the ground, making a firm landing. He looked back up at the lit window and grinned under the open summer sky. He'd slipped away like a thief in the night.

Joe's legs began to move, trotting to the other side of the hotel (the side by the lake), and feeling the warm breeze rushing by his face. He couldn't help but smile; all his pent-up adrenaline was finally being put to use. 

 As always, he made sure to race for the shadows of the building to make a trail no one could follow. He was always beyond careful, making sure nobody would ever see or hear his driven intentions. It was better that no one knew. It was more fun that way for both of you.

Your silhouette became clear to him once he reached the other side, your window now visible on high. Joe slowed his run until he was a few yards from the base of the hotel. His head angled up to your room, taking note of the dim light from within. You weren't facing the window, but Joe knew you were waiting for him on this summer night. 

He could've sworn he sensed your excitement, too; he could practically hear your heartbeat. It may have been his own heightened sparks of joy pounding in his ears- as he knew he was unarguably early. Still, date night was date night, and the singer was eager to kick things off. There was no time to lose. It was time to announce his arrival.

After reaching down into the grass and locating a small stone, Joe found a trajectory from where he stood, and flung his attention getter up at your window.

***

Your eyes shifted over to the clock on your nightstand once another five minutes had passed. It was 11:27, and 11:35 was just around the corner. Smiling, you turned back to your mirror and leaned forward, finishing up the last bit of your makeup. A warm breeze blew through your open window, lifting thin strands of your hair up to slightly flutter in front of your eyes. 

It was true that you didn't need to dress up in any way, but your excitement had gotten the better of you. The plans for the night urged you to be dolled up at least a little bit. Who cared if it was going on midnight? You were still going out on a date, and you were still going to be in public. Some jeans and a crop top were just right for the occasion- with it being a warm and breezy night. The outfit was casual enough for the pub that you and Joe called your own, but flattering enough that you knew Joe would love it.

You drew back from the vanity and admired your appearance. Tonight would be great without a doubt. All there was left to do was wait for the man of the hour. Maybe you'd wait at the window and-

The sound of something landing behind you grabbed your attention. You turned and looked to the floor, spotting a small stone. Your eyes squinted from confusion, but your mouth angled into a smile.

To the window you went, and you gazed outside, seeing Joe down on the lawn below.

"Really?" you gently scoffed at him.

He looked a bit embarrassed, "Sorry! I didn't see it was open 'til it was too late..."

You chuckled and shook your head, turning back to stuff your wallet into your pocket and to switch off your lamp. With your room now dark, and your door locked, you slipped away through your own window, and made your way down your own fire escape.

Joe held out his hand once you were within reach, and led you down the remaining stairs.

You told him, "You're early."

He immediately retaliated, "You're lucky."

"How?"

"You don't have any acquaintances living below you," he tilted his head sweetly, "When I climbed down just now, Malvin was still awake. He could've caught me, you know..."

You rubbed your thumb over his hand and scoffed, "I doubt that- you're too sneaky."

"Could say the same about you, you know," he teased back, placing his other hand on your waist and moving in closer.

"That's why we're a good fit," you declared before moving your hand to the back of his head and kissing him. Another breeze blew around you both as he locked you in the embrace.

When it was broken, he quickly stepped back and pulled on your arm, urging you to come along jokingly, "Now quick, before anyone sees-"

He dragged you forward, adding, "I've got a good feeling the jukebox is gonna be fixed tonight!"

You laughed as you began to run next to him, both of you now running freely through the night in the open street. The energy between both of you was high, making it a thrill to be alive in that moment. Such high emotion was bound to make the date night better than it'd ever been, taking you both where you'd never been before.

 Yes, you could have taken one of your cars, but then there would've suddenly been a higher chance of someone seeing that at least one of you was gone. It was just another minute detail to ensure the safety of your plan. Even the pub you and Joe normally went to was one that the others probably didn't even know existed. 

The route to get there was a simple one; you always liked to say that it was "over the bridge, five blocks east, and down a dirt road that is barely a street". You were both still running when you ran over the bridge, eager to get to your relationship's safe haven. It was only when you reached said bridge that you slowed to a normal walk. 

You hugged Joe's arm, laughing and panting as you crept around the neighborhood "It's such a perfect night- I'm so glad we planned a date tonight."

"Yeah, couldnt've asked for anything better," he grinned up at the stars, "We made an easy getaway, too."

"Not often we get nights like these. Remember the night you were in my room and Phil almost came in?"

Joe cackled up at the sky, recalling, "Ah- yeah, can never forget that one. We barely got away with that one. How did he not hear me talking?"

"I have no idea, but I've never hidden someone that fast in my life- let alone someone as big or as naked as you were."

"Oi!" he whined, "You want a date or not?"

You giggled and rested your head against his arm, "I'll behave, I swear."

"Good, cos' the fun hasn't even started yet," he warned, tenderly putting his other hand on your arm. In a few minutes, the dirt road was in sight, looking like a familiar and secret setting of a dream. At the end of the street, the glowing lights of the secluded pub were now visible.

"I'll race you," you smirked before bolting away from Joe and down the street.

Instantly, he bolted after you, "Hey!"

He caught up quickly (his long legs being an advantage), and stopped you by gripping the back of your shirt. He did his best to take you in his arms, but tripped in the process, sending you both down to the dirt at an angle. You both hit the ground laughing, rolling onto your backs and cackling up to the summer stars.

"Sorry-" Joe huffed. You both paused for a second or two, then he rolled over to quickly straddle and pin you to the ground. 

"What are you doing?" you laughed at him, as if you didn't already know. He stroked your hair back with a loving smile, leaning down and softly kissing you. He was tender for only that second before kissing his way down to your neck, making you squirm underneath him.

"Ah- Joe!" you squealed, your face flushing up, "Cut it out! We're outside-!"

"Oi!" a different voice sounded off not so far away. You both turned your heads to see the owner of the pub standing out on the front porch, sending a parental scowl at the pair of you.

"Adrian- he's mad, I tell you!" you adopted a fake tone of helplessness.

"She started it," Joe blamed with a smirk.

"You two again, huh?" Adrian scolded you, "I'll be having no filthy business at the porch of my pub, you hear? Save it for the pool room."

"Yes, dad," Joe whined, shooting a cranky scowl down at you, rolling off and helping you up. You hit him on the arm playfully, him flinching at first, then putting his arm back around you. You both faced Adrian and began to walk up to the porch.

"I haven't seen the pair of you for almost 2 weeks, what's happened with ya?" he asked.

You answered, "Ah, studio troubles."

"And you're still keepin' this a secret, I take it?"

"It's the way we like it! It's more fun that way," Joe told him, " 'Our little secret' keeps the adrenaline going. Is the jukebox working again?"

"Been working since last week," Adrian's eyes followed you both as you edged closer, "Got 6 new singles on it now."

Joe's eyes lit up, "Oh, brilliant, which ones?"

"Ah, I can't remember, you'll see them soon anyway."

You got to the porch, Adrian holding the door open for both of you. With your date a threshold away, you stopped and asked him quietly with an air of implication, "Oh, also... when will the pool room be open?"

You looked at Joe with a devious smile. He returned it to you, beaming with similar energy.

"I can have everyone out of there by midnight if that's what you want, darling," Adrian gave a single nod, a glint of understanding in his eyes.

"No need to rush it, mate," Joe clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Take your time. We've got all night, after all."

"Well I've only got until 2:30," he warned, "So I'll let you kids know as soon as I can."

"You're the best," you leaned up and kissed Adrian's cheek, "Thanks for everything, as always."

"Don't mention it, love. You two be careful, now."

Both you and Joe droned as you walked inside, "We know."

With that, you both disappeared into the warmly lit building, feeling the summer heat as well as the heat of each other. It was always a dream come true with Joe no matter what; a dream with no one else to flaunt it at except each other, and it was more than enough. 

Your own little secret world was just between the two of you, and that was the way you liked it best. That was all either of you really needed, anyway; each other.

The end

#def leppard #def leppard fanfic #original content #Joe x reader #Joe Elliott #Phil Collen #Joe Elliott x reader #def leppard x reader #reo speedwagon #i finished this in March but wanted to wait until the summer to post it flelllhpdlphphpd #I KNOW I ONLY WRITE/POST JOE X READER SHIT DON'T @ ME #I CAN'T HELP IT #i know this fic is really stupid but i immediately fell in love with this song & wanted to write some adorable aesthetic summer fantasy shi #and i want everyone to like this song too bc hhhhhhhhITCAPTURESTHEFEELINGOFASUMMERNIGHTANDILOVEIT

[scotianostra]

April 16th 1746 saw the Battle of Culloden.

Today I wont so much be covering the battle itself as I have in previous years, I will post a bit about how Culloden became the site of the battle and the aftermath. By the aftermath, again I wont be treading over ground covered and the treatment of Highlanders, but will instead follow what was left of the Jacobite army and what they did in the days, weeks and indeed months after the battle.

Much has been said about the site of the battle and the Prince has been criticised for "choosing" the moor.

Three sites were scouted in the 48 hours leading up to the battle, they knew Cumberland's army was coming, their had been skirmishes in the week or so before this day, things were coming to a head.

The first site as at Dalcross Castle, which John Sullivan, the Irish adjutant and quartermaster general, rejected, because the distance across the ravine would have been too small to protect the Jacobite army from British musket fire from the other side.

The second was on the south side of the Nairn, chosen by Lord George Murray. This was poor ground, did not protect the road to Inverness and was vulnerable to British mortar fire from the other side of the river. It is clear that this site was a prelude to retreat and the dissolution of the army, because it was not an effective battle site.

The third site was about 1km east of where the battle was eventually fought, and John Sullivan drew up the army there on 15 April. It was on higher and less boggy ground than the final battlefield, and both wings of the army could see each other, which they could not in the next day’s sleet and rain. No one ‘chose’ the site of the battle on Drummossie Moor as a preference: it was the line closest to headquarters at Culloden House which could defend the road to Inverness.

Many of those soldiers who were asleep after the failed night attack on the 15th had retreated to the grounds of Culloden House, and there was little time to form them up as the British Army approached on the morning of the battle.

Some had urged the Prince to fall back into the hills and glens, split into units and launch a guerrilla campaign,  historians can't agree who ruled this out, some say Lord Murray, others Prince Charles, some a mixture of the two, no matter what it never happened, as we all know.

The battle began around mid-day, the 9,000 well-rested Government troops advanced downwind across the Moor towards their exhausted opponents who faced directly into the north-east wind and its accompanying sleet. The Prince’s forces numbered about 6,000 and were in two lines. The left flank of the front line was held by the three regiments of MacDonalds, highly resentful that they were not in their traditional place of honour on the right, held by the Atholl Brigade.

In the centre were some of the best of the Jacobite infantry, veterans of the victories at Prestonpans and Falkirk: Lord Lovat’s Frasers, the MacLeans, Mackintoshes, McLachlans and Chisholms.  Weak in artillery, the Jacobite frontline could see Cumberland’s gunners unlimbering and loading their batteries of cannon. Receiving no order to unleash the fearsome Highland charge, by far their best weapon, they must have known what was coming.

And come it did; Cumberland opened fire with roundshot across the unobstructed moorland. Behind his artillery, the Duke’s own front line consisted of six regular infantry battalions; the Royal Regiment on the right, opposite the MacDonalds, with Barrell’s Regiment on the left, facing the Athollmen. The second line contained six more infantry battalions, with yet three more in a third line alongside two squadrons of light cavalry. Out on his flanks were the feared heavy Dragoons: Cobham’s on the right, Kerr’s on the left. All was ready for the Jacobite charge.

Cumberland’s infantry had been given intensive training on how to deal with the onrushing Highlander, claymore in right hand, targe on his left. Having fired his Brown Bess musket, each man was to use his socketed bayonet to attack the opponent on his right front, trusting that his own comrade to his immediate left would do the same.

This was designed to avoid the parrying effect of the targe and inflict a disabling wound in the first shock of contact.

For a full half-hour the Government artillery thundered on unchallenged, roundshot and then grapeshot hammering into the Prince’s waiting battalions. Still no order to charge came as scores of men went down, thinning the ranks and producing frantic calls from officers and men to be released to the charge. Eventually they went off anyway.

The MacDonalds crashed in to Barrell’s Regiment, overrunning the front line before losing momentum and being shot and bayoneted by the upcoming second rank. Elsewhere the charge was even less successful; depleted by cannon fire and decimated by the rolling volleys of the infantry, Highland courage and dash proved no match for regular infantry discipline. The charge reeled backwards leaving up to a thousand dead in front of and among the Government positions.

Cumberland ordered a general advance and unleashed his cavalry. What had been a battle was now a rout. It had lasted an hour.

Jacobite casualties are estimated at 1,500 dead, with an unknown number of wounded and fugitives bayoneted and shot in the merciless pursuit that followed.Cumberland lost only 59 dead and 250 wounded, the only senior officer to die being Lord Robert Kerr, commander of grenadiers in Barrell’s Regiment and a son of the Marquess of Lothian.

It was over; the military neutralisation of the Highlands was about to begin. The ease in which the Government troops surprised Cumberland, and he surprised further when the Jacobites did not regroup and force another battle, he certainly expected another, but none came, around 1000 gathered the following day at Ruthven ­Barracks, where a written order from Prince Charles told them to “seek their own safety” and disband.  But, for many, surrendering was too dangerous an option.

As time went on, the risks of Jacobites handing themselves in became clear. The mood of the Ruthven meetings was downcast. Many fought on to avoid capture or because the risk of surrendering was high. In June, a number of Jacobites went into Fort William after the British government ­promised six weeks’ immunity. Captain Scott drowned them in a salmon net.

Jacobites engaged in low-level disruption, raiding and ­protection of vulnerable tenantry as well as recruitment to the Irish Brigade and probably Scottish regiments in French service, including Ecossais Royales.

Assassinations of unpopular ­government officers or sympathisers were also recorded. The British government still considered the Jacobite threat to be “major” at this time with around 12,000 to 13,000 soldiers deployed across the entire country – from Berwick and Stranraer to Elgin, Forres, Stonehaven, Inverbervie and Montrose – by the end of August 1746.

As government forces mobilised, significant units of armed Jacobites continued to appear in the field. At the end of April, 120 armed MacGregor men were recorded in Balqhuidder after marching home ‘colours flying and pipes playing’ with the Army unwilling to tackle or pursue Jacobite units that maintained discipline. 

One battalion of Lochiel’s ­regiment was still operational in May – as were 500 men under ­Clanranald. Orkney remained under Jacobite control until late that month and, despite British attacks, four local Jacobite lairds remained successfully hidden

Clans made concerted attempts to resist Cumberland and his men with around a dozen chiefs meeting at Mortlaig in early May. At the meeting... they entered into a bond for their mutual defence and agreed never to lay down their arms, or make a general peace without the consent of the whole,” according to an 1832 account by James Browne.

“By the bond of association, the chiefs agreed...to raise on behalf of the prince and in defence of their country, as many able-bodied armed men as they could on their respective properties.”

Around 600 men gathered later that month across the north and west but the clans “ultimately did not have the time or morale to raise or retain enough men in the field.

Although a unified response failed to materialise, Jacobites remained active across Scotland. Jacobite expresses – the non-stop delivery of letters by horse – continued until August. A British regiment was deployed across Banffshire in the summer of 1746 with insurgents reported in Argyll that September.

Arms were surrendered in the Mearns right into the summer of 1748. British atrocities were carried out against innocent ­victims, but there were plenty of continuing Jacobite threats and remained so for some time, this led to the building of roads and bridges, to make it easier for troops to be deployed into the heart of the country, many still used to this day, these projects and the act of proscription meant the end of the old Highland way of life. 

Many of us have made our pilgrimages to Culloden to pay our respects to those that died that day, and to the commemorations, both on the day, and at the one at midnight the night before, I hope you all take a moment and remember the brave men who fell that day and afterwards............

#scotand #jacobites #culloden #bonnie prince charlie #History

[fanwarriorfictions]

One-

A Stranger Things 2 Fanfic

Chapter One: MADMAX

A year had passed. Just a year since Will had gone missing, since the crazy adventure that had followed, since they had fought for their lives, since El had came and gone from their lives. Phina found that there was not one night she did not think of what had happened, not one night were she didn't wake in a cold sweat from the nightmares that plagued her, not one night she did not miss El. El was Phina's sister, not by blood, but by shared pasts, shared trauma. They had both endured Hawkins Lab, and Doctor Brenner, Papa.

Another thing Phina thought about frequently. Papa. When she had seen Brenner, laying on the floor, dying, her memories had flooded back into her mind, the damn built by her trauma no longer holding them back. She remembered every little detail, the experiments, the isolation chamber, her powers. Phina had been well aware of her gift of fire, it showed itself easily due to her temper. Her other affinities, were not as easy to access, but they were all the more powerful.

   With air, she could create winds stronger than a category five hurricane. They were strong enough to shred through anything in its path. With it, she could lift things, almost like El could, but different. She could create a ball of wind to surround the object and move it wherever she wished. Just before she had escaped Hawkins Lab, they had been trying to get her to use that power on herself, to lift herself, to fly.

   Her water was a little like her fire, more brute in attacks, but it was more controllable. Phina could form the water into whatever she wished, anything from small creatures like butterflies to her favorite, wolves. She created the wolves and they almost became alive, attacking where she wanted them to, but killing in their own ways, usually by drowning a victim. With water, also came ice, she could freeze the wolves and they could use their teeth to bite.

Then she had earth, her strongest affinity. Earth was so much more than plants and dirt, it was life. The plants and trees were alive, they had a consciousness, they saw Phina as one of them. She could control them, yes, but most of the time, she didn't have to. They protected her, they strenghtened her, they were a part of her. When she had explained this to the boys, Dustin had taken to calling her Mother Nature, and she guessed he wasn't really wrong. She was nature itself, anything related to it was at her command. And she was at their command.

   A year, so much can happen in a year, and so much did. Everyone had slowly healed, together, but the scars still remained. Phina grew stronger, but so did her shadows. Shadows plagued her, and every shadow she saw brought her back to the drawing. The one she drew last Christmas. It still rested in the first page of her sketchbook, where she would stare at it for hours. Nothing had happened, not yet, but it lingered in her mind, always reminding her that anything could happen at any moment. The paranoia arose in her from time to time, never truly gone, festering like an infected wound.

   Like right now, the moments when she was alone, when she had nothing to keep her mind at bay. Phina lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. With one hand, she gripped the blanket of her bed, tethering her to reality, and the other grabbed her necklace, reminding herself of her power. The little flame never left her neck, and it had become a life line to her, grabbing it whenever she felt uneasy. It brought her comfort, yet it also brought a face. Steve Harrington had given her the necklace last year, as a thank you.

   Another development over the year, Phina had found it harder and harder to hate him. Once he stopped hanging out with Carol and Tommy, he had become a lot nicer. He had even started to stand up for her against them almost every morning, and she had Nancy to thank for that. Nancy had changed him, for the better. Nancy and Steve were still going strong, and he grew better as a person every single day. It was a good thing, so why did Phina feel so bad whenever she saw them together. She was happy for her sister, and even for Steve, but, something was just wrong. Phina tried to say it was because of Jonathan, that him and Nancy had developed something together, and they did, there was no ignoring that, but she knew there was more to it. She just didn't want to face it head on.

   Phina hears yelling coming from Nancy's room, she was yelling at Mike. Arcade night, Phina chuckles, sitting up right waiting for Mike. On cue, her door was then thrown open as Mike rushes in, causing Phina to laugh even more.

   "Quarters are in the brown bag on the desk," Phina tells him without a moments hesitation, "share with Dustin, there is ten dollars worth for each of you, and a little extra if Lucas or Will need it."

   "Have I ever told you that you're the best sister in the world," Mike asks, breathing heavily.

   "You don't have to, I already know I am," she jokes, "now you better get goin' before Nancy catches you."

   "Mike!"

   He rushes out of the room with a quick goodbye, narrowly escaping Nancy as she was about to turn into Phina's room. She chases after him again, yelling at him as she goes.

   Phina shakes her head as she stands up to close her door. Those two will never stop will they, she chuckles. I hope they never do.

   As she walks back to her bed, she looks at a vase of flowers on her desk, roses from Jonathan on her 17th birthday in June. They were wilting. She smiles at them, lifting her hand to touch the closest one, they all regained their life, the soft petals kissing her skin as she filled the vase with water seemingly from nowhere. Life begins again.

-

   School? Dreadful. Her senior year? Even worse. Phina was taking her sweet time to get to school, taking the longest route she could. They were only a few weeks into the semester, and she was already about to pull her hair out. Being surrounded by carbon copies of Carol and Tommy, not to mention the stress of college and what she wanted to do with her life, she'd rather face the Demogorgan again than this.

   The road she was on was usually empty this early in the morning, giving her the freedom of how fast she went. So she took her sweet time, cruising along slowly, feeling the wind wrap around her like an embrace, and admiring the nature that surrounds her. The sounds, smells, all of it, calming her. That is, until the sound of an engine broke it. The car, a Camaro, flew past her, way to close. She swerves towards the side of the road to keep from getting hit by the asshole driver, which leads her towards the trees. She stops just in time not to hit one.

   The car was long gone already, due to the outrageous speed it had been going. Phina was breathing heavily, her adrenaline running high. That asshole could have killed me, her temper flared. Along with it, came a ball of fire that formed around her clenching fist. She shakes off the fire, willing herself to breath a little. It didn't calm her down, but it did help her focus. Oh this was going to be a bad day.

-

   Phina flies into the parking lot, going towards her usual spot to find a car already in it, the Camaro. Now she was livid. They had just parked, blasting Rock You Like a Hurricane. The drivers side door swings open, one jean clad leg coming out of it. Then comes the completely jean clad boy as well. On the other side, a younger girl gets out, taking her long board and leaving quickly.

   The boy looks around the parking lot for a moment and starts to walk towards the school, throwing a cigarette down as he goes. Phina glares at him, her temper rising again. She parks her bike in the space right next to his throwing down her stand. She stands up off the bike and storms towards mullet head.

   In Steve's car, Nancy and Steve watch her. Steve noticed instantly how mad she was when she parked, and all that anger was turned on the new kid.

   "This is not good," Steve says, jumping out of the car, "not good at all."

   "Hey asshole," Phina calls out to mullet head.

   He turns around, almost as if it was actually his name, "yes?"

   The pure arrogance in his voice stokes her rage, "I don't know if you noticed, but you ran me off the road earlier."

   "Was that you? Oh, well, I'm sorry Red," he smirks, his eyes trailing over her.

   "Don't call me that, and keep your eyes up here," she growls, "you could have killed me."

   "That would've been a real shame, to loose such a beauty as yourself," he shakes his head, his eyes still not meeting hers.

   "I'm flattered," she bites out.

   He smirks, "you should be."

   She snarls at him, "I oughta punch you in the mouth right here and now."

   "You wouldn't." His smirk grows wider. "Not with those delicate little hands."

   "You're new here, you don't know me," she snaps at him, taking a large step closer to him, "you don't know what I can do, and you don't want to find out."

   "What if I do, Red."

   The suductive undertone was maddening, "listen here asshole, don't call me Red, and if you even look at me wrong, your gonna find out what these delicate little hands really do, got it?"

   Phina smiles venomously at him, quickly going back to her harsh glare. She shoulder checks him as she walks towards the school. He is harshly turned around, forced to watch her go, he didn't mind at all.

   Steve, who had watched the whole thing, felt his blood boil as this new kid looked Phina up and down. He was about to go give this kid a piece of his mind when Nancy laid her hand on his arm.

   "Come on, where gonna be late for first period," Nancy says, watching the new kid and her sister.

   "Yeah, lets go," Steve nods, hesitantly.

-1777 words-

Ohhhhh, Phina is angry. So this marks the beginning of Season Two! Hope y'all are ready for this.

-Morgan

#steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #strangerthingsfanfic #strangerthings #slow burn #one #romance

[picturetoburnnn]

Seasonal Love | Calum Hood x Reader

Pairing - Calum Hood x reader

Word Count - 2k

Rating - PG

Note - this in no way at all reflects my views of Calum Hood, he is a pure angel and wouldnt do this, it is all purely fictional

He met you in the fall, and loved you in the winter. He strayed from you during spring, and left you under the summer sun.

~~~~

The autumn leaves falling brought you together in the first place. You had been merely sitting on the nearby bench, doing nothing but enjoying the calming quiet that blessed the cool air. His first look at you was from a distance, admiring how at peace you could be at a time such as this, the brisk air blowing red and brown leaves throughout the square. His first thought of you was from a distance, wondering how an angel such as yourself could find reason to grace the earth. The second time he saw you, he was closer. He didn’t dare say anything, not after staring at the ground the whole walk over. He sat carefully on the opposite end of your bench, stealing glances between the pages of a book and sips of coffee. The poor boy nearly lost his mind the first time he heard you speak.

“H-hi there. I’m Calum. Hood. C-Calum Hood.” His stuttering voice brought an amused smile to your face.

“Y/N. I’ve seen you around a couple times, right?” You held your hand out for a shake, and of course he couldn’t help but take a moment to just think about how right your hand fit in his.

The thought that you may have noticed him before made his heart do flips in his chest that any gymnast would’ve been proud of.

“Uhm, y-yeah. I walk around here just about every day.” He didn’t mention how this route was actually far out of his way, how he only came this way to maybe catch sight of you along the way.

A slight blush dusted both of your cheeks, neither knowing quite what to say.

“This… This may be a little forward, but do you wanna maybe hang out sometime? There’s a nice coffee shop a little ways down the road I know, maybe we could meet up and talk?” Calum looked at his hands while he spoke, too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“That sounds really nice actually. I’d like that.”

The boy’s head popped up instantly, eyes lighting up at your agreement. “Really?”

“Yeah, definitely! Here, let me see your phone.” You stuck your hand out, palm up. He slowly drops his phone in your hand as you dig yours out of your back pocket, handing it over.

You quickly tap your number into his contacts, and he does the same. “So, I’ll see you later?” His voice rises at the end, undeniably hopeful.

“Definitely.”

~~~~

The cold winter brought you two closer, and he still looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. Many nights had been spent at one or the other’s place, curled together on a sofa with blankets up to your neck, watching a movie or the fireplace or the snow outside the window. The company couldn’t be better, and you both felt safe together. Christmas was approaching, and neither of you could wait. You set up the trees in both apartments, so that no matter where you ended up it would at least be festive.

The day finally arrived when you and Calum awoke to the early morning sun reflecting on white blankets.

“Good morning sweetheart,” he smiled sweetly, eyes closed against the sunshine.

You just groaned in response, pulling the blankets up to your face. “Five more minutes.”

He let out a small chuckle. “No baby, c’mon! It’s Christmas!”

You peeked your head out from under the covers, “And what a horrible boyfriend you are for waking me up so early on a holiday.” Before he could say anything, you darted back under the warm comforter.

The laughter resumed outside the cocoon of blankets you were surrounded by. “I apologize, but I think I am a great boyfriend, because I planned out the entire day. So get up so you can have the best Christmas of your life.”

Another groan sounded, but you conceded and unwrapped yourself from the covers. “I don’t know if this’ll be the best Christmas ever. When I was six I got the Lego set I’d been wanting for months - the only way to top that is a pony.”

A short kiss was pressed against your cheek. “You doubt my Christmas abilities.”

You stretched yourself out, splaying your limbs out across the bed. In the process, you may or may not have hit Calum in the face. A short whine alerted you to his indignance. You smirked at him, saying “Get out, I need to get changed.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he whined.

“That doesn’t mean you get to see it now!” You hit him with a pillow.

“Fine fine fine fine. I’ll be in the living room.” He kissed your cheek one more time before grabbing one of his shirts from the drawer and exiting the room, gently shutting the door behind him.

True to his word, it was an amazing day, and it definitely beat your Lego set Christmas. Filled with gifts from each other and wrapped in love, there wasn’t much that could possibly make the day better. That evening, you two were curled together on the sofa, his arm wrapped around your waist, your head on his chest.

“I love you, you know.”

You gave a small giggle. “I know. I love you too.”

He played idly with your fingers. “Move in with me.”

You drew your head up just slightly. “You mean it?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Okay,” you settled back down to your original position.

“Okay,” he repeated, kissing the back of your hand.

~~~~~

In late April, you knew something was going on. He wouldn’t be home until late, he left to hang out with the boys more and more often. He’d come home at a quarter to two in the morning, smelling like he had gone swimming in a pool of cheap alcohol. He’d climb into bed without saying a word, snoring loudly while you stared at the ceiling.

Tonight you had seen a lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt. And it wasn’t the color you wore.

Tears fell slowly as you faced the truth. He wasn’t yours anymore. He didn’t see you the way he used to.

In the morning, you woke up to another empty and cold bed. He wasn’t here, yet again. Making your way to the living room, you saw him on the couch fiddling on his phone. Not making a sound, you stepped behind him, throwing your arms around his neck. He jumped in surprise, immediately darting to put his phone away.

“Morning, baby,” you smiled into his neck.

“Jesus Y/N, can you not?” He was clearly not amused.

You backed off, standing straight. “Sorry,” you said sheepishly.

“Just leave me be.”

You frowned as he went back to his phone, now angling it away from you. Stepping around the couch, you made your way to stand in front of him.

“Cal, did I do something?”

He looked up at you questioningly. “How do you mean?”

You took a deep breath. “You’ve been blowing me off a lot lately. Not showing up for date night, coming home really late, and hardly touching me anymore? Did I do something to make you mad at me or something? You haven’t kissed me or held me or anything in the past two weeks. We’ve lived together for four months but I hardly see you anymore. What did I do? How can I fix it?”

He looked down, then back up, huffing. “It’s nothing. Just drop it Y/N.”

You scoffed. “Just drop it? Calum, you don’t come home until the early hours in the morning, and when you do you’re drunk off your ass and covered in cheap perfume. Am I just not good anymore?”

“Damn it, Y/N, I said drop it!” The growl in his voice was enough to make you take a step back. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Then when is a good time to talk about it?” The challenge in your quiet tone was clear.

“How about not now,” he grunted, going back to his phone.

~~~~

It’s mid June and you know it’s ending. His behavior is worse and he hardly ever sees you anymore. You and him had been invited to one of Ashton’s parties, and of course you both went.

Problem was, you want to leave now and you can’t find Calum. It’s midnight, you have work in the morning, and so does Calum. Searching the small crowd, you spot a rather tall blonde face.

“Luke! Have you seen Calum?” Your call caught his attention, and he made his way to you.

“What did you say?” He put his hand to his ear, leaning down to you.

“Have you seen Cal? We gotta go.” He hesitates to answer, and you know something’s up. “What is it, Luke?”

“I saw him, he’s in the kitchen on the counter but he’s…” He trails off, not wanting to complete the thought.

“He’s what, Luke?” You automatically brace yourself for the worst.

“He’s with someone else.”

And just like that, your world comes crashing down. You’ve known he’s cheated, but to do it when you’re in the same building…

Without another word, you push past Luke, ignoring his calls for you to stop. You storm into the kitchen, and almost die where you stand.

Just as Luke said, Calum is sitting on the counter, but there’s a girl who’s not you standing between his legs, kissing him, and he’s kissing her back and all you know is that should be you, that should be you and it’s not you.

Luke comes up behind you. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You turn, looking down at the ground. “I’m going home. If he asks, just tell him I was tired.”

Luke nodded sadly. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Why are you sorry? You’re not the one who’s making out with someone else right in front of your girlfriend.” Without another word you sidestep him, walking out the front door.

Sitting in your apartment, all alone, you contemplate your options. You could pretend it never happened, like you’ve been doing for the past three months. You could confront him, too. Yeah, you’ll do that.

Morning comes and you wake up to Calum making his side of the bed.

“I’m surprised you even came home,” you say sourly.

His head snaps up to you. “What did you say?”

You sigh angrily. “Cut the shit. I flat out saw you making out with another girl last night. Right in front of me Calum.” He drops his head, almost embarrassed. “I’m sick of this, Calum Hood. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen evidence of you with someone else, but to do it when I’m in the same fucking house is just showing you don’t even care anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t,” he mutters.

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “Excuse me?”

He looks you dead in the eyes. “Maybe I don’t care anymore. Did you hear it that time? I. Don’t. Love. You. Anymore.”

You will the tears not to fall, not to gather in your eyes. “Is that it then?”

He doesn’t reply, just continues staring at you.

“Get out.”

He doesn’t challenge you as he stands, gathering what small amount of things he has still in the room.

“I would say it’s been a pleasure, but it really hasn’t these last couple months,” he snaps, stepping out of the bedroom.

“Leave,” you growl, following him.

He shrugs, and steps out the front door. “I’ll send one of the boys for the rest of my stuff.”

You all but slam the door in his face. When you’re sure he’s gone, you slide to the floor, pulling your knees close to your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are finally let loose. It’s not the first time Calum’s made you cry. He may not love you anymore, but you sure as hell still love him. Even after all he’s put you through, you still love him.

Although no one asked for this, I just felt like it heheheh

Taglist (dm me to be added because right now its literally one person)

@cxddlyash

#calum hood #calum 5sos #calum hood x reader #5sos x reader #fanfic #my writing

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for june 18 of 2021 with Proverbs 18 and Psalm 18, accompanied by Psalm 91 for the 91st day of Spring and Psalm 19 for day 169 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 18]

[Wisdom Gives Life]

An unfriendly person isolates himself

and seems to care only about his own issues.

For his contempt of sound judgment makes him a recluse.

Senseless people find no pleasure in acquiring true wisdom,

for all they want to do is impress you with what they know.

An ungodly man is always cloaked with disgrace,

as dishonor and shame are his companions.

Words of wisdom are like a fresh, flowing brook—

like deep waters that spring forth from within,

bubbling up inside the one with understanding.

It is atrocious when judges show favor to the guilty

and deprive the innocent of justice.

A senseless man jumps headfirst into an argument;

he’s just asking for a beating for his reckless words.

A fool has a big mouth that only gets him into trouble,

and he’ll pay the price for what he says.

The words of a gossip merely reveal the wounds of his own soul,

and his slander penetrates into the innermost being.

The one who is too lazy to look for work

is the same one who wastes his life away.

The character of God is a tower of strength,

for the lovers of God delight to run into his heart

and be exalted on high.

The rich, in their conceit, imagine that their wealth

is enough to protect them.

It becomes their confidence in a day of trouble.

A man’s heart is the proudest when his downfall is nearest,

for he won’t see glory until the Lord sees humility.

Listen before you speak,

for to speak before you’ve heard the facts will bring humiliation.

The will to live sustains you when you’re sick,

but depression crushes courage and leaves you unable to cope.

The spiritually hungry are always ready to learn more,

for their hearts are eager to discover new truths.

Would you like to meet a very important person?

Take a generous gift.

It will do wonders to gain entrance into his presence.

There are two sides to every story.

The first one to speak sounds true until you hear the other side

and they set the record straight.

A coin toss resolves a dispute

and can put an argument to rest

between formidable opponents.

It is easier to conquer a strong city

than to win back a friend whom you’ve offended.

Their walls go up, making it nearly impossible to win them back.

Sharing words of wisdom is satisfying to your inner being.

It encourages you to know

that you’ve changed someone else’s life.

Your words are so powerful

that they will kill or give life,

and the talkative person will reap the consequences.

When a man finds a wife,

he has found a treasure!

For she is the gift of God to bring him joy and pleasure.

But the one who divorces a good woman

loses what is good from his house.

To choose an adulteress is both stupid and ungodly.

The poor plead for help from the rich,

but all they get in return is a harsh response.

Some friendships don’t last for long,

but there is one loving friend who is joined to your heart

closer than any other!

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 18 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 18]

I Love You, Lord

A song to the Pure and Shining One by King David, his servant, composed when the Lord rescued David from all his many enemies, including from the brutality of Saul. He said:

I love you, Yahweh, and I’m bonded to you,

my strength!

Yahweh, you’re the bedrock beneath my feet,

my faith-fortress, my wonderful deliverer,

my God, my rock of rescue where none can reach me.

You’re the shield around me,

the mighty power that saves me,

and my high place.

All I need to do is to call on you,

Yahweh, the praiseworthy God.

When I do, I’m safe and sound in you—

delivered from my foes!

For when the cords of death wrapped around me

and torrents of destruction overwhelmed me,

taking me to death’s door,

in my distress I cried out to you, the delivering God,

and from your temple-throne you heard my troubled cry,

and my sobs went right into your heart.

The earth itself shivered and shook.

It reeled and rocked before him.

As the mountains trembled, they melted away,

for his anger was kindled on my behalf!

Fierce flames leapt from his mouth,

erupting with blazing, burning coals as smoke

and fire encircled him.

He stretched heaven’s curtain open and came to my defense.

Swiftly he rode to earth as the stormy sky was lowered.

He rode a chariot of thunderclouds amidst thick darkness;

his steed was a cherub,

soaring on outstretched wings of Spirit-Wind.

Wrapped in the thick-cloud darkness,

his thunder-tabernacle surrounded him.

He hid himself in mystery-darkness;

the dense rain clouds were his garments.

Suddenly the brilliance of his presence broke through

with lightning bolts and hail—

a tempest dropping coals of fire.

The Lord thundered; the great God above every god

spoke with his thunder-voice from the sky.

The Most High uttered his voice!

He released his lightning-arrows, and routed my foes.

See how they ran and scattered in fear!

Then with his mighty roar he laid bare the foundations of the earth,

uncovering the secret source of the sea.

The hidden depths of land and sea were exposed

by the blast of his hot breath.

He rescued me from the mighty waters

and drew me to himself!

Even though I was helpless in the hands

of my hateful, strong enemy,

you were good to deliver me.

When I was at my weakest, my enemies attacked—

but the Lord held on to me.

His love broke open the way,

and he brought me into a beautiful, broad place.

He rescued me—because his delight is in me!

He rewarded me for doing what’s right and staying pure.

I will follow his commands and

I’ll not sin by ceasing to follow him, no matter what.

For I’ve kept my eyes focused on his righteous words,

and I’ve obeyed everything that he’s told me to do.

I’ve been blameless before him and followed all his ways,

keeping my heart pure.

And so Yahweh has rewarded me according to my righteousness,

because I kept my heart clean before his eyes.

Good people will taste your goodness.

And to those who are loyal to you,

you love to prove that you are loyal and true.

And for those who are purified, they find you always pure.

But you’ll outwit the crooked and cunning with your craftiness.

To the humble you bring heaven’s deliverance,

but the proud and haughty you disregard.

God, all at once you turned on a floodlight for me!

You are the revelation-light in my darkness,

and in your brightness I can see the path ahead.

With you as my strength I can crush an enemy horde,

advancing through every stronghold that stands in front of me.

Yahweh, what a perfect God you are!

All Yahweh’s promises have proven true.

What a secure shelter for all those

who turn to hide themselves in you,

the wraparound God.

Could there be any other god like Yahweh?

For there is not a more secure foundation than you.

God, you have wrapped me in power

and made my way perfect.

Through you I ascend to the highest peaks

to stand strong and secure in you.

You’ve trained me with the weapons of warfare-worship;

my arms can bend a bow of bronze.

You empower me for victory with your wraparound presence.

Your power within makes me strong to subdue.

By stooping down in gentleness,

you made me great!

You’ve set me free, and now I’m standing complete,

ready to fight some more!

I caught up with my enemies and conquered them

and didn’t turn back until the war was won!

I smashed them to pieces and

I finished them once and for all; they’re as good as dead.

You’ve placed your armor upon me

and made my enemies bow low at my feet.

You’ve made them all turn tail and run,

for through you I’ve destroyed them all!

They shouted for help, but no one dared to rescue them.

They cried out to Yahweh, but he refused to answer them.

So I pulverized them to powder and cast them to the wind.

I swept them away like dirt on the floor.

You gave me victory on every side,

for you make me a leader of nations.

Even those I’ve never heard of come and bow at my feet.

As soon as they heard of me they submitted to me.

Even the rebel foreigners obey my every word.

Their rebellion fades away as they come near;

trembling in their strongholds,

they come crawling out of their hideouts,

cringing in fear before me.

Yahweh lives!

Praise is lifted high to the unshakable God!

Towering over all, my Savior-God is worthy to be praised!

Look how he pays back harm to all who harm me,

subduing all who come against me.

He rescues me from my enemies;

he lifts me up high and keeps me out of reach,

far from the grasp of my violent foe.

So I thank you, Yahweh, with my praises!

I will sing my song to the highest God,

so all among the nations will hear me.

You have given me, your king, great victories.

You’ve always been tender and kind to me, your anointed one,

your loving servant, David, and to all my descendants!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 18 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 91]

Safe and Secure

When you abide under the shadow of Shaddai,

you are hidden in the strength of God Most High.

He’s the hope that holds me and the stronghold to shelter me,

the only God for me, and my great confidence.

He will rescue you from every hidden trap of the enemy,

and he will protect you from false accusation

and any deadly curse.

His massive arms are wrapped around you, protecting you.

You can run under his covering of majesty and hide.

His arms of faithfulness are a shield keeping you from harm.

You will never worry about an attack of demonic forces at night

nor have to fear a spirit of darkness coming against you.

Don’t fear a thing!

Whether by night or by day, demonic danger will not trouble you,

nor will the powers of evil be launched against you.

Even in a time of disaster, with thousands and thousands being killed,

you will remain unscathed and unharmed.

You will be a spectator as the wicked perish in judgment,

for they will be paid back for what they have done!

When we live our lives within the shadow of God Most High,

our secret hiding place, we will always be shielded from harm.

How then could evil prevail against us or disease infect us?

God sends angels with special orders to protect you wherever you go,

defending you from all harm.

If you walk into a trap, they’ll be there for you

and keep you from stumbling.

You’ll even walk unharmed among the fiercest powers of darkness,

trampling every one of them beneath your feet!

For here is what the Lord has spoken to me:

“Because you loved me, delighted in me, and have been loyal to my name,

I will greatly protect you.

I will answer your cry for help every time you pray,

and you will feel my presence

in your time of trouble.

I will deliver you and bring you honor.

I will satisfy you with a full life and with all that I do for you.

For you will enjoy the fullness of my salvation!”

The Book of Psalms, Poem 91 (The Passion Translation)

[tryingtofeelanything]

Just before the night

English Bungou Stray Dogs Soukoku One shot NSFW (TW : suicide attempt, mentions of self harm, depression and implied insomnia)

I spent a part of the night working on this, so there may be some mistakes left. I’ll check it another time later on anyway. I just needed to get this out of my chest, really. I’m not exactly comfortable with the themes in this, but I hope some of you’d enjoy it. And I hope I was able to make you feel the hope and warmth I wanted to put in this ? Because this was the most important part to me. It takes place before Dark Era, like my previous one shot.

A heavy silence was imposing its dark veil on the living room, plunged into half-light. A silence where death would effortlessly seep in, where death was even called. Nothing was moving. Everything seemed suspended, even objects devoid of consciousness ; tick-tocks, lost in a corner of the room, were seeking to make themselves as discreet as possible ; lights filtering through wide bay windows were trying to enter the frozen glass as gently as possible. They were still keeping their presences in this intimidating place, reminding that the world was still going on around this freezing bubble, not caring about them.

The apartment looked like it was modeled on its occupier. Settled in a privileged location far above Yokohama, with a clearly expensive structure ; but mainly deprived of furniture, looking cold, scattered with carelessly piled up items, chaotic. Looking rich and desirable, but tormented, disordered, shattered, even. Unwelcoming. Lonely. As if broken deep down inside, so deep that nothing would be able to restore it.

Yet, as hard as it was to believe, it was not devoid of every living form. Two figures were sitting on the couch, a black couch, which looked like it has been thrown there, next to the wide windows opening on an agitated route, contrasting with the motionless coldness between those walls. They were still gasping for air. The first one's chest, where fawn strands of hair were falling, lifted, following decrescendo a slow rhythm, regaining an indifferent calm. The other one's throat, framed with brown locks, let still painful, irregular, wheezes escape every so often ; but they were slowly promising to join progressively peace back in their turn. The translucent white of partially torn apart bandages was messily spreading all around this throat ; revealing bright red marks around the neck and under the tensed jaw. Offering its bruises exposed and defenseless. However, the face it hardly kept hanging was perfectly hiding from any external assault, under a curtain of dark strands of hair and buried in the crook of the second occupant's neck, opened like an invitation. Close to them, spilled on the floor, a smartphone with a broken screen ; a chair ; a few crimson drops slowly drying ; a carefully sharpened knife ; a rope, obviously chosen for its solidity and its thickness, but neatly cut.

Cerulean eyes traced their forms with a sharp gaze from under auburn locks. Following a silently determined path, they came closer to settle on the listless figure against his own. They slowly drew the shape of the legs bent close to the chest, climbed up the partially unfastened buttons of the creased shirt they met, reached the discarded bandages, pausing on the face he could only make out, still buried against his neck. The picture presented to his retinas awakened Chuuya's senses, that had been made ineffective by the minutes of agitation which had now vanished, but without letting numerous traces after its flight. Dazai's long exhalations tickled the skin surrounding the leather band secured around his neck, with an incredible warmth. The feeling dragged an imperceptible shudder out of him and his body finally felt like relaxing.

His thoughts getting back to a normal path, his hands reproduced automatic gestures ; still not tinged with a repeated habit, but yet familiar : they first grabbed each of his partner's hands in turn, spreading the fingers and stroking the palms in order to make sure that they were not hiding anything from him. He noticed that the bandages eternally wrapped around the left arm had been curtly untied. They were colored in red droplets that looked like they were forming larger stains under the wrist, hidden from his view by his own thigh it was laying on. He should take care of ensuring the lack of bloodstains on his pants the next morning, Chuuya thought absently. The tips of the fingers from the right hand were stained in blood too. Then the young man slid a hand on Dazai's left pocket with some difficulty, as it was stuck between both boys' bodies and the leather of the couch. Not getting anything out of it, he bent down as much as their position let him do, rummaging through the right pocket, and eventually dug a small and transparent box out, a box full of round and white pills of a few millimeters long. After putting it in his own pocket, he finally took care of the unwrapped bandages around the neck and the wrist, now useless and even annoying for the wounds, those open and those not, they let the place to. He dropped them on the floor, not caring much more about them.

Once this ritual was completed, the young man transferred his attention on the person huddled against him. His breathing had subsided. He could have looked like he was sleeping ; but Dazai hardly slept in a bed, so he would never find sleep elsewhere. A slight sigh, a careful one, not wanting to break the silence nor the immobility of the moment, but one that could not stay suppressed, crossed Chuuya's lips. He slid an arm behind Dazai's neck, just putting it on his shoulder at first, then eventually running his gloved hand among the locks, where they met other bandages, ready to fall in their turn. Sighing again, he pulled his own phone out of his back pocket and opened his messages. Last minute instructions, to a few subordinates. Since, obviously, he could not go to work as planned the next morning.

He was seventeen. And with hands dirtied by the blood of a much more important number of victims. By a twist of fate, he found himself taking care of keeping this boy's life, this boy that the same fate saved as his companion in arms, his partner in crime. Rumors gave credence to a lot more crimes from him. Rumors must be right. Dazai now had seventeen. Midnight had been reached two hours ago. The nineteenth day of June. What a cynic choice for a date, really. As he was finishing his texts, Chuuya lazily put his head against his partner's.

Minutes passed by, to the rhythm of the uninterrupted tick-tocks, of the warm breath that kept crashing regularly against him. They made some sort of ambiguous paint, that was destined, in the darkness and in all appearances, to depict a couple admiring the city lights in their embrace ; while they were only two boys playing with death, one forcing the other in the cruelty of his life, reminding him mercilessly his presence in reality and life with the warmth their pressed bodies shared. It was all the teenager with orangy strands of hair could do ; he had no remorse for inflicting this additional pain upon him. Dazai still welcomed him, if his body language could tell anything.

“I'm going to bed”, he eventually declared.

Only quietly, yet his voice sounded like it pierced the room from end to end. No reaction. He was not waiting for one anyway. The young man gently moved his partner's head in order to straighten up. In the same time, he firmly grabbed his wrist – feeling on the pad of his fingers the deep and thin wounds covering it – and forced him to stand up with him. Chuuya dragged him to the bedroom, the only room with a bed when he had copious possibilities of arranging other ones, for example to greet his partner who could come in like a shot to make his really bad ideas fail after just a bit too long silence. For example. The door shut on the living room, left in its usual untidiness, littered with those proofs of the night that would awaken bitter memories the next morning.

The bedroom was plunged in the same half-light. The smaller boy pushed the other to sit on his bed. Not taking it off, he unfastened the few remaining buttons of the shirt before attacking the fly of the pants. His partner deigned to move a bit by himself, in order to comply after a short “take them off”, only keeping the boxers under them. Chuuya took the opportunity to take his own clothes off, pulling the first top falling from Dazai's closet and put it on over his boxers. Now somehow dressed in order to sleep, he put his attention back on his host. He pushed him unceremoniously against the messy sheets before sliding on the other side of the bed. He did not have the time to settle properly on the mattress before two arms crept around his chest and pulled him forward to force him to lay down. A brown head took its seemingly favorite place back against his neck. With a barely convinced and barely convincing sigh, Chuuya took the sheets to cover both of their bodies, pushed Dazai's arm away from its position around his waist, put it between their bodies, intertwined their fingers between each of their chest. He was rather reassuring himself this way more than he could think he was reassuring this boy, who yet had climbed every grades in the mafia with a frightening speed ; who yet managed to trigger screams of frustrations out of his partner, just the day before, after an unannounced visit in his office ; who was now slowly falling asleep, as if inexorably taken away by sleep, his pale face carefully hidden from the world, and from Chuuya. Their legs had intertwined without them noticing. The warmth their bodies and minds shared quickly lulled them to a night with no dream.

#bungou stray dogs #OSAMU DAZAI #chuuya nakahara #soukoku #dachuu #mafia!dazai #one shot #fanfiction #triger warning #: #depression #suicide attempt #self harm #insomnia #angst

[todieingrave]

Thursday, August 10th 2017

Hey it’s be awhile since the last time I made a blog on here. I’ve been super busy dealing with a lot of things, especially the moving part. I will be moving to southern California in about 3 days!! Woah that came up fast! 

I think the last time I made a blog was on June 1st, so I’ll try to catch some of you up on some things that have happened between that time until now. Well, I’ve gone on a few hikes and made some new friends between that timeline. I have been becoming more mentally healthy now that I’ve let go of a few toxic people in my life. It’s even starting to show in my dreams how much better I have become so far. I used to always have horrible nightmares, especially this past year while my mind was in a very negative place. But now this past 2 months I have been having good dreams. I ended up officially reactivating my main facebook account again and I had an overwhelming respond of support from my old friends welcoming me back that I am so thankful for. I updated that account a little bit with photos that I haven’t been able to share on there since I have been gone. Right when I reactivated that account a good friend of mine informed me that they found a fake account using my pictures. So I had to get rid of that and I deleted quite a few people who I no longer wanted them to experience my life with me anymore. Then the funny thing is that some people from my old high school were even trying to holla at me.. I find it funny how some of the people who used to judge and bully me in school are now up in my messages trying to flirt with me and try to creep on all my social media accounts. I see them but they aren’t eva gettin’ a chance. Drew and I have been doing really well actually. I think we’ve been falling back in love again. Everything just has been becoming so much nicer like it used to be before I fell into this deep depression. I have even been going out a lot more like I used to. I went out to multiple shows including, Hammerfall, Morbid Angel, Warped Tour, Iron Maiden in California, DragonForce and a few more back in Portland. The Iron Maiden trip was amazing!! Drew and I first drove to San Francisco and did a bunch of cool stuff there, like visit some spooky shops, museums, and gardens. We watched 4th of July fireworks on top of a high building looking over the city at night and flew some kites over the bay area. Our car did unfortunately get broken into on the first night there but thankfully we had good insurance on our rental and just got a new car right away. Then all the fun we had after that made up for it and we completely forget that even happened. Oh and I finally got to see Iron Maiden play live and I am beyond happy with the turn out! 😃 Their stage performances were one of the best I've seen and they brought such an amazing energy to the whole stadium. I like how they genuinely look super happy up there and love what they are doing. The crowd was awesome as well! I got to get up reeaaalll close to the stage with no problem. That night turned out way better than what I expected. Then we drove down to San Diego to visit our friends Holly and Nick. We didn’t do too much down there but visit the beach, go to the exotic reptile animal expo and get SUPER sun burnt. Oh my goodness I don’t think I have ever been that burnt in my entire life. I was beat red! It was embarrassing xD Then we drove back up to L.A. for Drew’s birthday. We mostly used our time there to look for places to live and do a couple of home tours. We almost got this spooky house out in the desert but it looked like there needed to be a lot of work done on it, so we passed and settled for an apartment right next to these mountains in San Bernardino. After we found our place of stay we finally got to go out to the city and celebrate Drew’s birthday. We got to see DragonForce play on the first night we were there and oofta I got a lot of drinks bought for me. I guess I looked real purdy that night :P Then we walked on the stars and some dude forced me to hold his giant pet snake. I can’t lie, I was a little scared at first that it was going to bite me. We then visited the famous Museum of Death and stopped at a lot of random vintage shops around town. I may have spoiled the both of us a little too much. Oops! Whatever we were on vacation. Then once our trip was over we drove back to Oregon using the scenic routes and hiked around on the coast quite a bit, taking our sweet time exploring before we have to head back to that awful city I hate to call home at the moment. Once we got back home I got an email saying my chest tattoo proposal with an amazing artist I have been wanting to work with got accepted!! YAY! So I will be finishing my full chest piece for my birthday in late September. I am so beyond excited for this. Not only that but at the end of July I finally finished the complete outline on my left sleeve. Now I just need to finish the shading on it along with tattooing my armpit and hand, then it will be officially finished sleeve! Then I’ve been going to this big book store on Powell a lot with this pretty lady friend. I’ve been slowly becoming addicted to collecting books now. I just finished this thick book in a week! Yeah everything has been going well but knowing my life there will always be those downs. For instance I have been packing up a lot lately but it’s been so damn hot here in Portland these past 2 weeks while i’m doing that and we don’t have any AC here. So that sucks ass. Not only that but I am way beyond angry that one of my dumb ass roommates left our balcony door wide open a week ago, even after countless amount of times I have asked them not to do that because I'm worried about the cats getting out. Well guess what!? Those assholes left it open again and this time my kitten Artemis actually got out and jumped off our 2 possibly 3 story deck. I wasn't aware until one of our town home maintenance guys knocked on our door and said he found her hiding in a vacant lot covered in toilet water and blood on her paws. She was panting and whining whenever we touched her tummy, so now we had to rush her to the vet because she might have possibly broken either one of her paws or even a rib. Luckily everything wasn’t as bad as we expected, but she didn’t land on her feet from the fall so it was still a hard impact on her tummy that knocked the wind out of her and kinda left her breathing funny for a few days and it broke most of her claws off, along with a few teeth from her jaw hitting the ground. I was fucking furious at them because of what they have done to my sweet fur child. Mostly because the dumbass who was stupid enough to do it kept on trying to blame it on us like it was our fault when we NEVER open the deck door, let alone we have caught him leaving it wide open all the damn time. So we knew who it was right away. I of course start screaming at him when he gets home that if he doesn’t pay for her vet bills then we will be taking legal action and suing him. He then tries to pick up the broom next to him and hit me with it. I grab it and begin to kick and punch him because my immediate reaction is to defend myself if someone is going to try and hit me with an object and hurt my animals. My other roommate then decides to become violent as well and puts me in choke hold and slams me against the wall while Drew was trying to get him away from me. I was pissed and everyone who has personally has seen me with that much anger knows damn well it’s best to NEVER put me in any type of hold or try to hold onto me at all. It’s better to speak to me with words and look me straight in the face rather than trying to hold onto me, because if you hold onto me I WILL go fucking crazy and most of the time try to bite a chunck of flesh out. Since I know that has always been the most effective way to make someone let go of me when they won’t when I tell them to. So I bit his arm to release me and I punched him a few times in the face. I ended up giving him a pretty nasty black eye and fat lip but honestly... I’m not sorry at all because he shouldn’t have been as aggressive with me as he was. If he didn’t slam me into the wall then he wouldn’t have his ugly purple eye swollen shut. Stupid weak bitch. He then tells on me to his daddy and his daddy tried to play pretend detective on the phone and make it seem like I was in trouble with the police to scare me. I knew right off the bat that it wasn’t a real cop because i’m not stupid but I played along anyways because they said I apparently gave him stitches. I was very concerned at first about the stitches because he went to the hospital but then I found out he just had a little cut on his eyebrow with none. So I told them that if they ever call me again with threats I will be taking action against what has happened to my cat because of them and the fact that they assaulted me as well, leaving multiple huge bruises all over my body that are still here. He didn’t call back after that. Good! Because I am not one to mess with unless you want me to take some form of harsh revenge out on you. So I think I made my point very clear that I don’t ever let anyone harm my animals or loved ones and get away with it free. I will stick up for myself so that nobody will ever try to harm me or them ever again. Point made. Don’t fuck with me unless you want me to go crazy. I am very thankful for all the friends I have who were very supportive during this. It really helps during stressful times. I seriously can’t wait to be out of this house in a few days and start my life over on the positive path I have been aiming for. 

#personal #blogging #dear diary #fun times #but don't mess with me #I will go crazy

[hermanwatts]

Sensor Sweep: Space 1889, Barry Windsor Smith, Tokien, Prydain

Popular Culture (DVS Press): If you needed more proof that the obsession with fictional corporate franchises has a religious overtone to it, here is a major filmmaker advertising just that. When my viewers were upset about the corporate destruction of Star Wars, calling the franchise a cultural institution, I thought it a bit hyperbolic – after all, these are just stories, and you can’t uncreate what George Lucas did. I see things better now. Star Wars is part of the religious reverence for popular franchises.

RPG (Matthew J. Constantine): Way back in the 80s when I was a wee lad and just getting into tabletop RPGs, I used to see Space 1889 on the shelf at a local game store and I thought it looked pretty cool. Somewhere around there, my father picked up a copy, and I used to thumb through it a bunch.  There was something in the setting that really hit a lot of my buttons. I was an Edgar Rice Burroughs, H.G. Wells, and Jules Verne fan, so that was probably enough. But the setting had something that drew me in.

Comic Books (ICV2): Marvel Comics announced Conan the Barbarian: Coming of Conan, the first volume of collected Conan books restored for The Original Marvel Years Epic Collection, for release into trade in June 2020. Conan’s adventures would become legend, but before he became king, he was Conan the Barbarian. In this new trade paperback, Roy Thomas and Barry Windsor-Smith bring Robert E. Howard’s barbarian to four-color life, and have restored the art to match the epic majesty of their original editions.

Cinema (Amatopia): So this Birds of Prey movie didn’t do so hot. The usual suspects are blaming misogyny among the movie-going public. The other usual suspects are blaming a marketing campaign that specifically told men that this movie was not for them. Now, both are apocryphal, as I have not found men telling other men not to see this movie because it features women, and I have also not found people involved with the making of the movie telling men “This movie is not for you.”

Tolkien (Sacnoth’s Scriptorium): we now know that Tolkien was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature at least three times: in 1961, when he was nominated by C. S. Lewis. in 1967, when his name appeared on the (alphabetical) long list as #58 of 70 nominees. In 1969, when he was #90 on the long list of 103 names. So far as I know he did not make the short list any of these times.

Weird Fiction & Appendix N (Goodman Games): Without August Derleth (1909-1971), you probably wouldn’t have that Cthulhu bumper sticker on your car, that Cthulhu for President poster, and certainly not that Plushie Cthulhu you have staring down at you from your geek-memorabilia shelf.  Not that Cthulhu would not exist, but he (it?) would be just one more forgotten character in a series of stories by an author unknown except to the most ardent of horror literati. Howard Philip Lovecraft’s greatest creation and most if not all of his fiction would have passed into obscurity if not for August Derleth’s founding of Arkham House publishing.

Fiction (DMR Books): These are stories of Jean Ray, who was known as “The Belgian Poe.” Other writers he was similar to are H. P. Lovecraft, William Hope Hodgson, and Guy de Maussapant. I first read Ray’s fiction in the doorstopper anthology The Weird by Jeff and Anne VanderMeer which reprinted his stories “The Mainz Psalter” and “The Shadowy Street.” Reading these stories, I felt like I did when I first read Lovecraft. They were tales of cosmic horror of immense power and imagination. I decided I would seek out more of his fiction.

RPG (Black Gate): For twenty years, the folks at Privateer Press have been creating games, primarily set in their Iron Kingdoms steampunk fantasy setting. They began with a series of RPG volumes, including an award-winning trilogy of adventures from 2001. These adventures, later collected into The Witchfire Trilogy, was built on the D20 System from Dungeons and Dragons 3E. Then Privateer Press really came into their own with the introduction of the Warmachine miniature wargame, focusing on armies that control massive metallic warjacks, one of the iconic creatures from their Iron Kingdoms setting.

T.V. (Dark Worlds Quarterly): When I was in graduate school, one of my

favorite television shows was Highlander.  I’d seen the first and second movies, and while I’d enjoyed them, it was the TV show that really captured my imagination and made me think about immortals and immortality. A movie is limited to approximately two hours. By contrast, a weekly show has a lot more time to develop characters, backstory, plots and subplots, and story-arcs that can last for months or even years.

Fiction (Epoch Times): In 1907, the man who composed these verses won the Noble Prize for Literature at the remarkably young age of 41. He also wrote hundreds of short stories and several novels. Many of these were made into films in the 20th century, among which were “The Jungle Book,” “Kim,” “Gunga Din,” “Wee Willie Winkie,” “Captains Courageous,” “Soldiers Three,” and “The Man Who Would Be King.” (Reader, if you haven’t seen this last film, starring Sean Connery, Michael Caine, and Christopher Plummer, treat yourself to a great movie this winter.)

Fiction (Wasteland & Sky): A couple of years ago, Superversive Press announced a series of 12 volumes each containing short stories based on the classic planetary system. 9 were based on the planets, and two were based on the sides of the moon. Each volume would contain stories science fiction, fantasy, horror, and weird fiction, with everything in between. No genre style was off limits. All that mattered was matching tone and theme. As a themed series of short story anthologies, it was quite ambitious.

Retro-Science Fiction (25 Years Later): There are two closely-knit, though not necessarily always interchangeable, subgenres of the Golden Age of Science Fiction. Raypunk, or in architectural design circles referred to as Raygun Gothic, is the retrofuture with an eye for a bright future. Atompunk generates dystopian vibes and warns of a dreaded future in which the atomic bomb desecrated all humankind. Atompunk is bleak and afraid. Raypunk is quite excited for what tomorrow has in store.

Cinema (Jon Mollison): Bollywood often gets bandied about as an alternative to Hollywood fare by those cut back on consumption of it’s anti-American resentment.  Taken in by the flashy colors, the obvious national pride of the productions, and for some strange reason the song and dance numbers that break out on the regular, they seek solace in alien spectacle.  Personally, I find the sheer foreign-ness of Bollywood off-putting in much the same way I find anime incomprehensible. . . Enter Furious, the Russian made story of 17 brave warriors who stood up to a full Mongol horde.

Art (Down the Tubes): The Windsor-Smith Studio announced the completion of Monsters, the long awaited graphic novel by Barry, last December, and that the project is on track for a mid-2020 release, but a publisher was not revealed. Assuming it will be launched through traditional distribution routes and not solely through the Windsor-Smith Studio official web site, you’d expect a solicitation through Diamond Previews might soon be in the offing.

Fantasy Fiction (Superversive SF): To both spend time with my children and give them literary food to build their minds, I recently read to them THE CHRONICLES OF PRYDAIN. For them, it was the second reading, but they were too young to remember the first. This time, they were begging for me to read more each night. The stories of Taran and the companions, Fflewddur Fflam, Gurgi, and Eilonwy not only filled their imaginations with adventure but taught them how dragons can be slain (paraphrasing of G.K. Chesterton).

Tolkien (Tentaculii): In August 1955 L. Sprague de Camp reviewed new Conan books and The Fellowship of the Ring, in Science Fiction Quarterly, August 1955. Worth reading right across the spread, as it’s ‘all of a piece’. For those who have somehow not yet enjoyed The Lord of the Rings, note that his review has plot spoilers for the first volume. At that time the second volume was not yet published. Camp must surely have here been the first to draw the comparison between the modus operandi of the ring in the Conan novelette “The Phoenix on the Sword” (1932) and The Lord of the Rings.

Sensor Sweep: Space 1889, Barry Windsor Smith, Tokien, Prydain published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

[biofunmy]

A.L.D.S. Game 2: How the Yankees Beat the Twins

From 2016 to 2018, Didi Gregorius was a cornerstone for the Yankees. He played slick defense at his demanding shortstop position, improved his plate discipline and smashed at least 20 home runs each year, a crucial left-handed counterbalance in a Yankees’ lineup heavy on right-handers.

This season, though, was anything but smooth for Gregorius. He missed the first two months after having Tommy John surgery on his throwing elbow last fall, for an injury he sustained during last year’s postseason. And when he returned in June, Gregorius couldn’t quite recapture his pre-operation form on either side of the ball. Still, Manager Aaron Boone stuck with Gregorius even as he slumped heading into the playoffs.

All of that felt like a distant memory on Saturday as tens of thousands of fans chanted “Di-di! Di-di!,” and he obliged their request for a curtain call by thrusting both arms in the air from the dugout steps. He had just sent Yankee Stadium into a frenzy with a towering, third-inning grand slam, powering the Yankees to an 8-2 win and emphatically confirming that the Yankees’ bats may indeed be too much for the Minnesota Twins in this American League division series.

The best-of-five series will shift to Minneapolis on Monday, with the Yankees one win away from clinching a berth in the A.L. Championship Series. And if the Twins cannot neutralize even the Yankees’ struggling hitters, they have little hope of extending their postseason.

“That just shows you what this team can do,” Gregorius said. “We’re not just relying on one person.”

It was the Yankees’ 12th consecutive playoff victory against the Twins — the longest postseason streak by any team versus any opponent in major league history.

Seeking to contain the Yankees’ home run-blasting offense in their hitter-friendly stadium, the Twins turned to the ground-ball pitcher Randy Dobnak, who skyrocketed all the way to the major leagues from a low level of the minor leagues at the beginning of the season.

Dobnak’s story was captivating: He went undrafted, played in an independent league, was an Uber driver this spring to supplement his income as an underpaid minor leaguer, and skipped a few Twins games to get married in late September — a date he and his wife had chosen because it was after the minor league season.

The Yankees did not homer off Dobnak, but they wore him down with hard-hit singles and doubles. Twins Manager Rocco Baldelli hooked Dobnak after the Yankees loaded the bases with no outs in the third inning and turned to Tyler Duffey, a reliable reliever during the regular season. But Duffey was no better against the Yankees’ buzz-saw of a lineup, which began to pile on the runs.

Left fielder Giancarlo Stanton gave the Yankees a 2-0 lead with a sacrifice fly. Second baseman Gleyber Torres smacked a single to make it 3-0. And then Gary Sanchez was hit by a pitch, loading the bases again. When Gregorius hammered a 1-2 pitch down the right-field line, it was the fourth straight at-bat in which Duffey failed to put a Yankees batter away with two strikes.

In that third inning alone, every Yankee hitter aside from Gio Urshela either drove in or scored a run. The scoring outburst buoyed a strong performance from the Yankees’ pitching staff — led by starter Masahiro Tanaka, who allowed one run over five innings — against a powerful Twins offense. Tanaka, who lowered his playoff E.R.A. to 1.54, joined Sandy Koufax as the only pitchers in major league history to allow no more than two runs in each of his first six postseason starts.

“We were a little timid,” Twins first baseman C.J. Cron said, adding later, “We wanted to swing. We weren’t swinging with the same aggression that we have all year.”

But the star of the night was surely Gregorius, who was slumping like no other player entering October. From mid-August through the end of the regular season, he had a miserable .184 batting average across 30 games. It didn’t help that in August he dealt with finger and shoulder injuries, neither of which sent him to the injured list. Some metrics showed that Gregorius had regressed on defense. And given the versatility of D.J. LeMahieu and Torres, it seemed plausible that Gregorius might sit out against a left-handed pitcher this postseason.

“Just try to swing at strikes,” Gregorius said of what he had needed to improve. “That’s one thing for me right now, and be patient.”

Boone never stopped supporting Gregorius. The manager’s words before Saturday’s game proved to be prescient.

“I still maintain that the best is yet to come from Didi, and I know he’s going to have some big swings for us moving forward,” Boone said, adding that Gregorius was pressing at the plate and working behind the scenes to snap out of his funk. Boone continued, “Sometimes it just takes one at-bat, one swing to kind of turn it, and I believe that’s what’s in there for Didi still.”

That swing came, Gregorius said, on his second-inning single on Saturday, and more proof came an inning later. After he drove a high, fly ball to right field, Gregorius stood at home plate and admired his work before tossing his bat aside. He said he was happy that he had adjusted to Duffey’s high fastball as opposed to whiffing against it, as he had in the previous game. As he rounded the bases, Gregorius, stoic throughout his struggles, appeared to keep an expressionless face.

In the dugout, right fielder Aaron Judge urged on the cheering crowd by waving his arms. Dellin Betances, the injured star reliever on crutches who had predicted Gregorius’s grand slam to his teammates before the at-bat, smacked the top of the dugout roof in delight. Gregorius finally grinned as he high-fived and hugged his teammates, another Yankees’ victory all but assured with his breakout swing.

Here are the highlights of the Yankees’ win, as they happened:

8th Inning: It’s All But Over

The announced attendance for Game 2 was 49,277, and a good portion of them headed for the exits after the Twins went down in order in the top of the eighth, striking out two more times to raise their total to 12.

7th Inning: About That Slump…

The Yankees must be slumping — they haven’t scored in four innings.

Adam Ottavino entered the game for Tommy Kahnle and pitched around a double by the rookie Luis Arraez. Ottavino struck out Miguel Sano to raise the Twins’ strikeout totals to 10 through seven innings.

Didi Gregorius led off the bottom of the seventh for the Yankees and drew a walk. With a grand slam and a single already for Gregorius, it is an encouraging sign for the Yankees — like adding another diamond to a ring, so to speak. Gregorius finished the regular season with only one hit in his last 31 at-bats and was 14 for his last 85 over his final month of play for a .165 batting average (he then went 0 for 3 with a walk in Game 1 on Friday). The Yankees lineup is unrelenting, and because of his slump, teams might have seen Gregorius as the only hole in it — until now. With Sir Didi showing signs of emerging from the funk, the question is: How can anyone pitch through this lineup?

4th Inning: Twins Finally Muster a Run

Call it a rally, or perhaps as much of one as the Twins are going to get against Masahiro Tanaka. Minnesota scored a run on Mitch Garver’s R.B.I. single to cut the deficit to 8-1. The only hit Tanaka surrendered through the first three innings was Nelson Cruz’s broken-bat bouncer back to the box that Tanaka could not corral. The Twins did not hit a ball out of the infield until Jorge Polanco’s fly ball to left field leading off the fourth. Tanaka has thrown 73 pitches through four innings.

The Yankees actually did not score in the bottom of the fourth. This game is two hours old and they are not even halfway.

3rd Inning: Gregorius Blasts a Grand Slam

The rout is on. Didi Gregorius hit a grand slam to right off reliever Tyler Duffy, and it was such a no-doubter that right fielder Eddie Rosario never even pretended to go after it. The Yankees took a 7-0 lead and the celebrations were already underway.

The Yankees knocked Dobnak out of the game earlier in the inning when they loaded the bases with nobody out, and went on to score seven runs. Duffy replaced Dobnak, who allowed four runs in two-plus innings. Giancarlo Stanton hit a sacrifice fly and Gleyber Torres singled to left before Gregorius’s slam.

Dobnak’s short outing was fairly predictable. A recent Uber driver against this lineup? Rather optimistic of the Twins. The last Twins rookie to start a game in the postseason was Brian Duensing at Yankee Stadium in 2009. Duensing gave up five runs in four and two-thirds innings and his father was hit by a car outside the stadium (he was O.K.).

Gregorius’s slam was the 12th by a Yankee in the postseason, and first since Robinson Cano’s off Al Alburquerque of the Detroit Tigers in 2011 (WFAN’s Mike Francesa knew him as Alberto).

1st Inning: Encarnacion Delivers an Early Advantage

Yankee Stadium is alive with this late afternoon start on a crisp autumn day, and the Yankees wasted little time getting on Twins starter Randy Dobnak, the rookie pitcher who drives an Uber in the off-season. Fans were chanting “U-ber” when Dobnak got in trouble in the first inning. He gave up a run after D.J. Lemahieu doubled and Edwin Encarnacion later laced a one-out, run-scoring single, but the 24-year-old right-hander got out of more trouble — and quieted the sarcastic chants — when he induced a double-play ball from Giancarlo Stanton.

Masahiro Tanaka also used a double play to escape problems in the top half of the inning. With one out, he hit Jorge Polanco with a pitch and then could not field Nelson Cruz’s broken-bat comebacker. But Tanaka got Eddie Rosario to bounce a changeup to Lemahieu at first base and Tanaka covered the bag and caught Didi Gregorius’s relay throw in time.

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[thegrumpypenguin]

  Black tree monitor; possible names are Freckles, Jeckle, or Mr. Hyde

  ♫ Wake me up, when September ends.♫ 

                                                                        – Billie Joe Armstong (Green Day)

  Well, I wish I had posted that song yesterday, because I somehow missed that today was the first of the month… so this post is later than it should have been. Sorry, all!

  Kiki, Komodo dragon

Anyhow, onwards and upwards! At the left is the photo I had originally intended to use for this month, but at the very last minute, I decided to go another direction. I really like this shot of Kiki; I just felt that there wasn’t much to it at the end of the day, and that the one of the monitor just stood out more on the page. Had I known then, in mid-October of 2018, that Kiki would pass away less than a week after I finished creating the calendar, I would most likely have used her photo and saved the monitor for 2020. However, hindsight is… well, 20/20… and I do think I used the more interesting photo… but I now find I have not very much to say about black tree monitors. (In fact, they’re not even currently listed among the Australasian animals on the Zoo’s new website, even though I know I saw them there the last time I visited the pavilion.) I think I will talk about the Australasian pavilion in general, and I will continue first with more about Kiki.

  Magnificent tongue!

When I first began my training to be a Zoo Volunteer, I found I was visiting the Australasia Pavilion quite frequently after class was over. Part of the reason, I’m sure, was that it was a colder time of year; part was likely because it wasn’t an area I was very familiar with. Also, one of the very first Volunteer talks I attended was delivered by Brent, who was at that time a Keeper in Australasia and quite involved in the potential breeding of the Komodo dragons. Prior to the arrival of Kiki in June of 2011, the exhibit was shared by Kilat (who was born in Toronto in 2004) and Loca (spelling seems to be in question), who was potentially his mom and who, when she died at the Calgary Zoo in 2014, was the oldest Komodo dragon in captivity by a considerable margin. As there is a decent chance I will use a photo of Kilat in the future, I will refrain from writing any more about him here; however, there is a very interesting story about Kiki that bears repeating.

  Look at those claws! 

During that talk back in 2012, it was mentioned that the Zoo was having some trouble firmly establishing the sex of Kiki. She was considerably smaller than Kilat – alarmingly so – and it had been assumed that she would grow larger over time. If memory serves, she was even on a special diet to hopefully “bulk up,” but it never took. The few times she and Kilat were put together to breed she tried her best to avoid him, showing no interest whatsoever. Kilat would pursue her but nothing would really develop from it. When the Keepers drew blood from Kiki and sent it in to see if there were any issues keeping her that size, they received a startling surprise: the blood tests came back with the information that Kiki was a boy! Of course, they were not put back out together after that until the issue could be sorted out; when Kiki arrived in Toronto it had been pretty well-established over the six years of “her” life that she was female. So another test was ordered. This one came back “female,” again. But since Kiki clearly had no intention of breeding with Kilat, and was still quite small, they were kept apart from then on. It wasn’t until Kiki passed away on exhibit on October 23, 2018 and was sent for a necropsy that an even more stunning truth came out: Kiki was actually hermaphroditic; that is, she had sexual organs of both male and female types (but, in her case, neither was developed enough for breeding). This, of course, explained everything that had been so confusing over the previous seven years!

  Annie, the echidna

A favourite of mine (and many others) in that pavilion is the reclusive Annie, short-beaked echidna. Echidnas are one of only two types of monotremes in the world, with the other being the duck-billed platypus. Monotremes are egg-laying mammals; in the five class of vertebrates – mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians – not one of them is “perfect” in its classification rules; in other words, there are many exceptions. Annie used to live with Norman (I have always assumed that his full name must have been “Spiny Norman”) until he passed away a few years ago. Norman was easily distinguishable from Annie because he had a semi-permanent “shot bubble” hanging from the tip of his nose whenever anyone saw him. The echidnas spend most of the time the Zoo is open underground in tunnels, coming up for food around dusk each day which is pretty much the only time you might catch Annie. On the day I shot the above photo, I was in Australasia for the 34th (and final, as it turned out) birthday for Hamlet, who fell just four months short of being the longest-lived southern hairy-nosed wombat in history when he died later in 2016. While I was there I shot a video of Annie wandering around, which ends quite hilariously as I follow her into the area where Hamlet was and catch him lying on his back briefly:

    Here is a shot of Hamlet on that 34th birthday; I don’t want to delve too much into the wombats as I feel they will likely feature in a future calendar:

  34-year-old Hamlet, southern hairy-nosed wombat

  Walnut, the cockatoo

There have been some amazing birds in the Australasian Pavilion, too, but they seem to come and go a little more often (that’s probably just my impression). Here is Walnut, the red-tailed black cockatoo, who lived there with her parents for a while and then on her own, before she left for a breeding program. She was one of my favourites while she was here; she used to spend most of her time on the superstructure over the heads of visitors and would always respond happily to a quick whistle from a friend. She was also the central character in one of my favourite stories from the too-brief time I was a Program Leader at the Zoo.

  Walnut takes flight

During one of my classes in the spring of 2016, a young lad (Grade 5 or 6, I think) asked me if we had any cockatoos at the Zoo, as he had one at home. (I assume his pet was the standard white one, but I never did ask.) I said we did, in fact, have one – and I would try my best to let him see her but I could not guarantee it as Australasia wasn’t on my planned tour route. We did the other side of the Zoo in the morning, and the young man asked me again at lunch if we might get to see Walnut in the afternoon. Again, I said I would try on the way back if I could. We visited the Tundra and the Americas after lunch and we were pushing our luck time-wise as we headed along the path back to the buses, when I caught the young man, out of the corner of my eye, wistfully gazing at the Australasia Pavilion we were passing close to. I made a quick decision and stopped the group, asking if they would be willing to really hustle back to the main gates if we made a brief detour so their classmate could see the cockatoo. They were unanimous in their agreement, so we turned left and headed into the pavilion. I could see Walnut in her customary place in the rafters and walked over until I was directly underneath her. A couple of the young people had seen her as well, but I urged them not to say anything for the moment. I asked the cockatoo-lover if he could see Walnut, but he could not, so I whistled briefly for her (“Yoo-hoo,” it sounds like) and she squawked a very happy, very loud reply. He stared up at her as she made her way a little closer to all of us and gazed at her in wonder for a few moments until it was really time to go. As I marched the class quickly back out of the pavilion and toward the gate, I looked back over my shoulder to see that young lad with an enormous grin on his face, surrounded by congratulatory classmates who were almost as excited as he was. Now, that… was a good day.

I’m very carefully avoiding the animals I expect will be in upcoming editions and, if you happen to follow me on social media, I am sure you can work out what is the most likely of those to be in the 2020 calendar. So I will leave the stories of the Australasia Pavilion here, for now, and just add a small collage at the end of some of my other favourites. Next month: I need to own up to not one…not two… but three errors in the caption for the photo. Go big or go home, right? That will teach me for using the one photo that was shot on my old camera.

See you in November and thanks for reading!

  Blue-tongued skink

Bearded dragon

Bettong

Crimson rosella

Frilled lizard

Nokopo

Splendid parrot

Makepeaces

2019 “VISITING WITH ANIMALS” Calendar – October Story ♫ Wake me up, when September ends.♫                                                                          - Billie Joe Armstong (Green Day) Well, I wish I had posted that song 

#Animals #Australasia #Australasia Pavilion #Black Tree Monitor #Calendar #Monitor #October #Toronto #Toronto Zoo #Tree Monitor #Zoo

[edc-creations-blog]

Best Laid Plans by Deatri King-Bey (Love Like It’s Hot Box Set)

Abisola Tersoo, a gracious woman of beauty, kindness, and focus, knows there has always been a plan for her future. Someday she will take over her father’s business and Max Osborne, a man dear to her family’s heart, is to be her husband. Just when Abisola has accepted her life always goes according to plan, Thomas Hoffmann, a fantasy of a man, brings chaos into her life in the best and worst ways. Torn between following the plan with a real man and risking it all for a fantasy, Abisola learns she may not have a choice.

Thomas Hoffmann didn’t realize he was looking for someone special until Abisola walked into his life. A man of the world, he had become a little jaded, but Abisola’s quick wit and creative spirit sparked an interest in him unlike any he had ever experienced. One who lives in the moment, he can see spending the rest of his moments with Abisola, but others’ plans may get in the way.

      Excerpt: Best Laid Plans by Deatri King-Bey

Chapter One

Mind racing, Abisola stood before her boss. In the three years she’d been employed at Osborne and Associates, she’d never been called in like this. An accountant, she found most clients were hush, hush when it came to their money and didn’t blame them. She was just as hush, hush about her own finances. Maybe this was about a new “delicate” project. It was only June, and she’d already been assigned four this year.

“Please…” Sandy motioned to the leather loveseat off to the side of the modest office. Seated, Abisola faced Sandy.

“I apologize.” Sandy glanced at her watch. “I need to leave in a few minutes, so let me cut to the chase.”

Now that Abisola had more time to think, she’d bet this was about the embezzlement case she’d worked on for the District Attorney who’d needed a forensic accounted. Her cousin had convinced them to use Osborne and Associates, and Abisola in particular. Needless to say, she’d done an excellent job. Or so she thought.

Old episodes of Law and Order were the closest Abisola had come to being in a courtroom. Looking back, she probably should have turned down the offer, but couldn’t pass up the opportunity. After her expert testimony, the defendant decided to plead guilty for a lighter sentence, so she couldn’t have done too bad, she told herself.

“My grandson….” Choked up, Sandy looked away.

Worry shifted from herself to Sandy, she hugged her supervisor. “It’s okay.” Sandy’s first grandchild had been born a month ago at only twenty-two weeks gestation and admitted into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. She prayed silently for the baby to someday be a healthy, loving man. “Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.” Sandy wiped away the tears building in her big blue eyes. “I needed that.” She took a moment to compose herself. “It was so hard leaving him, but I had to come back. It wasn’t fair dumping everything on you.”

“You didn’t dump anything. Your priorities are straight. Family first.” Abisola’s father owned a successful flooring company. Her mother told her that even when they were struggling to get the business up and running, her father always prioritized family time. He said too many used growing their business as an excuse to neglect their family.

“How did I know you’d say that?” Small wrinkles formed around Sandy’s mouth with her smile. “I appreciate the way you stepped up. You helped make a difficult decision much easier. You see… I’m retiring and moving to Boston to help my daughter.”

“What?” Abisola knew she’d heard wrong.

“Leadership’s taking this opportunity to reorganize the company. Nelson’s agreed to buy my and Andre’s shares.”

Outdone, Abisola took a second to process what she’d been told. “So the company will no longer be Osborne and Associates?” Thirty-two employees in total, the firm was small but mighty.

“He’s leaning towards Osborne Financial. We’ve hired a marketing firm to help decide. With the restructure, we believe you’d be the best person to head up the accounting department. If you keep your nose clean until I officially retire, the job is yours.” She laughed lightly. “Since your nose has never been dirty, I think we’re good.”

“I’m… I’m floored. What about Max?” she asked of Nelson’s son who worked in the personal finance arm of the company. With the company being so small, they didn’t have managers, so Abisola assumed Max would buy into a partnership role when one opened.

“Andre’s having a similar conversation to ours with Max. Let’s be honest. The past year, Andre’s been out more than he’s been in. Max pretty much runs things over there.”

“I’m in shock. I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you.”

“You earned it. Even when I’m out, I keep tabs on things. I saw in the first day or so that your co-workers were coming to you for answers they usually come to me for. By the end of the first week, you were running the department and doing an outstanding job. And those daily updates you’d send!” Eyes wide with excitement, Sandy patted her chest. “Be still my heart. You saved me so much time and worry. Yes. You should be a director. You’re a natural.”

Faint knocking at the door drew their attention. Nelson Osborne, senior partner, poked his head in. Disappointment filled his eyes. “Oh no, you already told her, didn’t you?” He entered fully, closing the door behind himself.

Sandy smiled. “Your fault. Who takes meetings this early anyway?”

Ready to leap a tall building in a single bound, Abisola beamed with pride. “Thank you both for believing in me.”

“You earned it.” He looked at Sandy. “I hate to cut this short, but I need you to join this too early meeting for a few minutes before you cut out.” He chuckled. “That was a good one.”

Abisola loved how Nelson laughed at his own jokes.

* * *

Seated at her desk, Abisola exchanged her cell phone for her iPad. She longed to call her parents and tell them the good news, but her mother had the uncanny ability to turn a two-minute conversation into two hours. She scrolled through a few photos on her tablet of her parents laying tile in her condo. She’d gotten an amazing deal on two units in her building that were in major need of renovations. Nelson and his wife, Mesha, even came by a few times to help out. Work done, she missed the extra time they’d spent together updating the units.

She opened the custom-made planner program her parents had gotten her a few years ago. People often teased her about planning every minute of her life. Why anyone would try to make her way through something as complicated and important as life without planning was beyond her comprehension.

Lacey, her best friend, said the level Abisola planned was a manifestation of her controlling tendencies, but Abisola didn’t agree. As a child, Abisola didn’t choose what she ate, clothing, instruments she’d play, sports she’d participate in, languages she’d learn, if she’d be home schooled. Her high-level life plan had been written before she was born, and her parents made adjustments as necessary. They instilled the importance of preparation into Abisola.

She’d also heard the word controlling in relationship to her parents, but her college friends had been wrong. She went to work for her father when she was ten and loved every minute of it. According to the life plan her parents had created, she would have worked for him fulltime after she completed her Masters in Business Administration.

That was not the life Abisola wanted. Had her parents been controlling, they would have given her a hard time. Instead, they told her skipping college was not an option, but she could choose her major. They’d wanted her to stay in Arizona for college. They’d compromised and allowed her to complete undergraduate in Arizona and her graduate studies out of state. Someday her father’s business would be hers, so she continued working for him as part-time as an accountant. Since she loved laying tile, she did small jobs occasionally. Controlling people weren’t good with compromise, and her parents were experts at it.

“Ahbe-so-laaaah,” Lacey sang as she entered the office. “Or should I say, Madam Director?” She closed the door.

“I thought no one was supposed to know about the promotion?” Lacey was the only person outside of her family who used her given name. She preferred being called by her full name, but gave up the fight.

“I’m human resources and the office manager. I’ve wanted to tell you the past week, but was sworn to secrecy.” Huge grin on her face, she rolled a chair from the small conference table over to Abisola’s desk. “I literally thought I’d explode.”

Overflowing with excitement, Abisola could barely sit still. “This is crazy! My parents are going to flip when I tell them.”

“You are so very, very spoiled,” Lacey teased.

“Yes, but not spoiled rotten.” Her parents were in Nigeria visiting family, and she couldn’t wait for their return.

Lacey peeked over at the iPad. “I’ll bet your butt didn’t even hit the seat before you began updating your planner.”

“And?” This wasn’t as simple as just changing dates or she would have changed them months ago when she began accepting Max would play a huge role in her future. The promotion put into motion a life change that terrified the hell out of her, but she wanted. She couldn’t ask for more career wise, but longed to build her own family. Now if she only had a husband to go along with the plan.

Not to worry. Come Fourth of July, she’d be thirty-one and her parents would help find a suitable husband. Ninety-nine percent sure Max would be the man, she could hardly wait, but didn’t let on. At least she tried not to.

“Have you substituted Max for your intended yet? Nelson isn’t fooling anyone. He promoted you and Max so you two would take over the company someday. He wants to keep the business in the family.”

“Max and I are friends.”

Arranged marriages were her family’s way of life as far back as they could trace, but she’d wanted to go a more traditional, American route and find her own mate. Another example of her parents’ ability to compromise was them agreeing to hold off until she turned thirty-one before they began matchmaking to give her a chance to do her own thing. Until recently, she hadn’t considered Max, but he’d be the obvious choice. Both loved their chosen careers and understood the demands of the other’s job. They had the same outlook on life, the same political views and both were Muslim.

“Ummm, that’s a good thing. Plus y’all’s parents are best friends.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“What?”

“Arranged marriages are my normal. This is new to his family. My family’s progressive, but does he understand the courting period? That either of us can say this isn’t working for them and move on? What if…?” True fear stole her words.

“What’s really going on?”

She took a moment to gather her thoughts. As handsome as Max was, they’d have beautiful chocolate babies, but there were no sparks between them. “One day, Mum and I were in the backyard pulling weeds from the flower garden when she heard Dad’s voice. Her whole face lit up as if she’d gotten a pleasant surprise.”

“I thought arranged marriages were crazy until I met them.”

“I want a love like my parents share, and I want the same for Max. Will we ever fall in love?” Without some sort of spark, would she and Max ever fall in love, she worried.

“That you ask makes me believe that yes. You will. You two have had each other’s backs since you started here. If I didn’t know better, I’d of thought you’d known each other your whole lives.”

She drew in and released a large breath. “This is really happening. Nelson expects Max and I to get married.”

“Girl, catch up with the conversation. I said that at least two minutes ago. Stop overthinking.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” Lacey stood. “I need to get back to work.”

“That makes two of us. Thank you.”

Lacey left the door opened on her way out.

Enough fooling around for the day, Abisola got down to work. Every year she took her birth month off to do something special. This year she planned a trip to Alaska. Completing projects early and ensuring her regular clients were set while she was out was her June mission.

Max entered carrying a gift-wrapped shirt box.

“Is that for me?” She couldn’t help but smile. All her plans had fallen into place, and Max came carrying gifts. She’d bet it was from Mesha, who had to know about the promotion. Over the years, Max’s parents had become like a second set of parents to her.

He chuckled. “Would I bring a gift into your office that wasn’t for you?” He handed it to her. “Mom said I’d know when to give this to you. I was so confused until I learned of our promotions.” He sat in the chair beside her desk that Lacey had left.

“Thanks. I’ll call to thank her when I take a break.” She began opening the gift.

“Excellent. She also wants to know what to wear for the birthday-slash-naturalization-party.”

Her parents became naturalized citizens exactly thirty years ago this coming Fourth of July and wanted to celebrate. Proud of her parents, Abisola invited all of the people who participated in the naturalization ceremony with her parents to Sedona to celebrate the Fourth of July with family and friends. Since the Fourth was also Abisola’s birthday, her parents insisted the party be dual-purpose.

“Whatever she’s comfortable in. I have a spa day and some tours planned before the barbeque festivities of the evening.” She loved the way Max humored his mother by playing messenger and deliveryman for her. Each day she’d have him deliver or ask something she could have easily done herself.

She lifted the box top and saw an adorable yellow scarf with tiny daisy print. “Oh my goodness. I love it!” She ran her fingers over the fine material. She usually wore a hijab, but planned to rock her new scarf in the near future.

“Lacey says you’re tripping about what this promotion means for us.”

Eyes and mouth wide, she shook her head. “I was not. You know how she overreacts.”

Doubt filled his dark eyes. “Umm hmm. I don’t mean to disrespect your family’s traditions, but waiting on our parents to arrange our lives isn’t working for me.”

“I understand.” Now that she knew Max was her intended, she was shocked he hadn’t said something sooner.

“Sandy’s retirement completely changed things for us. I’ll call your father and apologize for overstepping, but you and I need to talk.”

“Agreed.” Truth be told, she didn’t know how her parents had done this. Then again, her parents hadn’t known each other very well before they began courting.

“I know Dad. He’s promoting you instead of offering you to buy into a partnership because he wants to keep your options open. I believe you and I will be an amazing power couple, but that doesn’t mean we have to be married. Once we start dating, there’s a small chance we may not click, and that’s okay.”

“What would happen if we didn’t click?”

“You’re still the best accountant around and more importantly, one of my best friends. We have always looked out for each other. If you want a partnership, I’m sure Dad would give you time to buy in. You have options.”

‘Thank you for talking me down from the ledge.” Something about this conversation just didn’t sit right with Abisola. “Since the cat hopped out of the bag, then threw the bag at us. After you talk to my dad, did you want to start the courtship?”

“We should wait until after you come back from your vacation. I want you to be sure this is the road you want to go down.”

“Are you sure this is the road you want to go down?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll admit, when Dad first approached me, I thought he’d lost his mind, but our parents are right. We both want to settle down and should look at the obvious possibilities first. We make sense.” He stood. “I need to get back to work. Since that cat’s out of the bag, I’m freed up to get you what I want to for your birthday.”

“Your family is the most gift giving folks I ever met. We don’t exchange gifts, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to tell what it is before you give it.”

“I have to or you’ll cause a scene at the party,” he quipped jokingly.

“Whatever… I have never caused a scene in my life.”

“I’m getting you a car.”

“No.” Not only were cars, insurance, gas, and their maintenance expensive, they were pollution machines.

“Hear me out. First off, it’ll be used and an electric car. I will not have my wife driven around by strangers, and I don’t want my children driven around by a new driver.”

Suddenly, she felt better about this conversation. “Awww, that’s sweet. Thank you for the thoughtful gift.”

“I know how you think. I’ll cover expenses the first year. I’ll look into driving lessons later.”

“How about you teach me to drive, and I’ll teach you how to cook the basics?”

He chuckled. “Many relationships have been ruined over driving lessons. It’s best to leave it to the professionals.”

“Point taken. What about the cooking? It’ll be fun.” Some of her fondest memories were of her and her parents in the kitchen throwing down.

“If I could make it my entire life without cooking an actual meal, I’d die a happy man.”

All she could do was smile. “Get out of my office.”

* * *

Normally, Abisola’s days flew by. She glanced at her watch: 9:45. Not today, she thought. She’d decided to call her parents instead of emailing them with the news, but was waiting until lunch to have more time to speak with them.

“Abby,” Nelson said as he entered her office. “I’d like to introduce you to Thomas Hoffmann.”

Shocked, her heartbeat sped up at the sound of his name. Why hadn’t Lacey warned her Mr. All Too Fine was in their office? Thomas’s law firm moved in two doors down around Thanksgiving last year. Whenever she got the chance, she’d just so happen to be in the front office to see him exit the elevator at approximately 8:55 each morning. She’d hated the double mirror-like walls until Thomas came around. This allowed her to see him without him knowing.

In her mind she’d given Thomas all the attributes she wanted in a man—a fantasy man no real man could measure up to. The person behind Nelson would be a real man, not her fantasy. She stood and rounded her desk.

Nelson moved to the side as he approached. A large man, like Max, he had blocked her view of Thomas. “He’s one of the partners at the law firm down the hall.”

Upon seeing her, Thomas’s whisky eyes momentarily went wide with surprise.

Nelson motioned to Abisola. “Thomas, this is Abisola Tersoo.” He beamed with pride. “Abby here is one of the best forensic accountants in the world.”

“World?” She laughed lightly. “Okay, I’ll take that.” Hand on her chest, she looked to Thomas and bowed her head in greeting. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

Heat rushed through her body. Not from his words, but the way he said them. The way he watched her. It took everything she had to act unaffected, but affected she was. She’d never reacted like this to a man. Now she chastised herself for the fantasies. She’d thought they were harmless fun.

After introductions, Nelson presented a high level overview of the special assignment Thomas needed fulfilled. This sounded like fun, but the way Thomas watched her said she should turn down the project. Then again, this was a great opportunity and in a few months she’d be management and no longer able to take such cases. She’d be crazy to pass this up, she told herself.

Disappointed, she sighed. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be on vacation all next month. I should be able to finish before then, but it’ll be cutting it close, and I know this is time-sensitive. Our other accountants may not be the best in the world…” She offered a smile to Nelson. “But they’re amazing at what they do.”

Nelson nodded in agreement.

Thomas shook his head. “No. I want the best. If it takes longer, then so be it.”

Ready to dig into her new assignment, she smiled. “Then we have a deal. I’ll set up a meeting for this afternoon to discuss what I’ll need to get started.” A part of her looked forward to seeing Thomas in person from time to time. That part scared, yet excited, the mess out of her.

“Because the information’s so sensitive, you’ll be working the project from my office.”

“No problem,” she said with a calmness she didn’t feel. Envisioning Thomas as a fantasy man from afar was one thing, but working in the same office with him daily was a completely different story. She quickly calmed her mind. They were both professionals, and he was not a fantasy. There was no such thing as a fantasy man. Plus, working in the same office suite didn’t literally mean she’d be in his office. Moment of panic over, she caught a devilish grin tip his lips.

“Excellent. Can you start today?”

She returned to her desk and looked at her schedule for the rest of the month. She’d already begun clearing her calendar as much as possible, so working from the law firm would be no problem. “I can come over around noon.” She hadn’t spoken to her parents yet, so adjusted her time. “Make that closer to one. Then other days I’ll come over around ten until the end of the day. Does that work for you?”

“Perfect. I’ll have Pam keep a look out for you. It was nice meeting you.” He held his hand out.

“You, too.” An unrecognizable charge radiated from their touch as they shook. This wasn’t pain, something she liked or didn’t like, but some sort of energy. The way he looked down at their hands told her he felt it, too. She released, but he continued to hold on. “I’m gonna need that,” she said as she nodded towards her hand.

Did she catch a whiff of vanilla? No it wasn’t vanilla but something lighter, yet similar, with a powdery base. Whatever cologne he wore smelled amazing, she thought.

“Oh, sorry.” The moment he released her, the energy began to fade.

“How about we go back to my office to sign the work agreement?” Nelson said, then looked to Abby. “We can talk later.”

Abisola nodded. “Sounds good.” She could only pray Nelson didn’t notice her reaction to Thomas. She’d hate to give her future father-in-law the impression that she had a wandering eye.

( Continued… )

© 2019 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Deatri King-Bey. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author’s written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.

  Meet Deatri King-Bey When Deatri was six years old, her mother was told that because of Deatri’s dyslexia, she’d never learn how to read. My have times changed. Deatri started her publishing career as an editor at Third World Press, Inc., one of the oldest independent, African-American owned publishing houses in the world. Fiction is her true love, so a few years later she began focusing her editing skills on fiction. She’s edited novels by such notables as Gloria Naylor, L.A. Banks, Beverly Jenkins, A.C. Arthur and many more.

Along with editing, Deatri also began writing. Thirty-some published titles later, she still hasn’t figured out she wasn’t supposed to learn how to read and has gone on to win six Emma Awards over the years. Currently, she is enjoying life with her family, reading, writing screenplays, and deciding what she’ll get into next. Website: http://romanandjeanette.com

    Deatri King-Bey’s Book List

Nonfiction: Become A Successful Author by Deatri King-Bey

Deatri King-Bey Suspense (with Curtis Alcutt) Roman & Jeanette (Black Widow and the Sandman I) Birth of the Black Widow (Short Story) The Sandman Cometh (Short Story) Hell Hath No Fury (Black Widow and the Sandman II) Dark Geisha (Black Widow and the Sandman III)

Deatri King-Bey Women’s Fiction

Caught Up Jodie’s Choice Operation White Rose Picture Perfect Sweet Thang

Deatri King-Bey Romance Novels

Beauty and the Beast Broken Promises (Interracial) Christmas Angel (Second Chances) Diamond in the Rough (Interracial) Ebony Angel (Interracial) For Keeps Hero (Precious Jewels I) If You Only Knew (Second Chances) Love’s Desire (Short story compilation) Journey’s End (Interracial) Santa’s Helper (Write Brothers II) Silk Scarves and Apples (Second Chances) Someone To Hold Soulmate (Precious Jewels III) Tease (Write Brothers IV) Tell Her How You Feel (Write Brothers I) The Drama The Street and the Seduction (Short Story) The Impossible Possible (Interracial) The Only Option The Other Realm Third Time’s A Charm (Write Brothers III) Trapped In Paradise (Short Story) Warrior (Precious Jewels II) Whisper Something Sweet

#LoveLikeItsHotBox, #SeducingThePen, #UnwrappedLit, #Bookish, #BookBoost, #TwitterBookClub, #AfricanAmericanAuthors, #NewBookAlert, #BlackGirlReading, #Bookstagram, #TBR, #TwitterBookClub, #InstaBooks, #InstaReads, #Bookstagram, #BookNerd

      Intimate Conversation with Deatri King-Bey (Love Like It’s Hot Boxset)

Deatri’s mother was told that because of Deatri’s dyslexia, she’d never learn how to read. My have times changed. Deatri started her publishing career as an editor at Third World Press, Inc., one of the oldest independent, African-American owned publishing houses in the world. Fiction is her true love, so a few years later she began focusing her editing skills on fiction. She’s edited novels by such notables as Gloria Naylor, Beverly Jenkins and many more. Along with editing, Deatri also began writing. Thirty some published titles later, she still hasn’t figured out she wasn’t supposed to learn how to read.

BPM: What inspired you to become a romance writer? How long have you been writing? When I was a child, my mother wasn’t a big fan of television series, but she never missed airings of old romance movies. I grew up in a household where Doris Day and Debbie Reynolds fell in love in the most dramatic ways just about every weekend, and I loved every minute of it. If my mother wasn’t watching old movies, she was reading Harlequin romances. At the time, my mother’s married life was nowhere close to the romances we watched and enjoyed. When I began writing, I had control to give every princess her prince charming.

BPM: How do you think you’ve evolved creatively? I’ve been married over thirty years and have children, grandchildren, in-laws. Lived through deaths, births, divorces, marriages. Been hired and fired from jobs. These fifty-some years, my experiences changed my outlooks on life and given me more depth. As we grow older, we see the world in different ways. This tends to affect one’s creativity. I’m hoping it’s for the best in my case, but we’ll see (smile).

BPM: Do you view writing as a kind of spiritual practice? Not really. I used to tease that writing was my way of putting my psychosis to work, by writing the voices into books. That all changed when my father was diagnosed with two forms of terminal cancer. That’s when the voices stopped. I was writing the forth book of a series that he was the inspiration for. I didn’t finish the series and Best Laid Plans is the first book I’ve written since he passed three years ago.

BPM: How has writing romance novels impacted your life? I let those voices in my head tell their stories. You will see mental illness, abuse, neglect… You know, things that aren’t romantic. You’ll also see compassion, love and triumph. When readers contact me saying how they saw themselves in my characters and appreciate how someone understood how they feel, that you touched their heart—I find it humbling.

BPM: What was one of the most surprising things you learned while creating your body of work? This was early on in my writing career. I’d always read books by all races of people. Back then, it was difficult to find titles by Black authors, plus schools had you read works by non-black authors. I never had an issue relating to characters who weren’t my race because I’ve always had to.

So when I began writing and began hearing whites saying they couldn’t relate to Black characters, I was taken aback. I grew up watching White women fall in love and reading books full of non-Blacks and had no issue “relating” to the characters. Love, hate, anguish, triumph, loss… are universal.

BPM: How do you find or make time to write? Are you a plotter or a pantster? I’m an empty nester, so have time to write. When my children were home, I’d write before they woke or after they went to bed. I’m a cross between a plotter and pantster. Before I start writing, I have about 90% of the book plotted out in my mind. Once I start writing, I go with the flow and it ends up about 70% to what I had in my mind.

BPM: Have you considered writing in another genre? I also write suspense and I have an urban fantasy I want to write.

BPM: What is your story in Love Like It’s Hot about? In Best Laid Plans, Abisola Tersoo, a gracious woman of beauty, kindness, and focus, knows there has always been a plan for her future. Someday she will take over her father’s business and Max Osborne, a man dear to her family’s heart, is to be her husband. Just when Abisola has accepted her life always goes according to plan, Thomas Hoffmann, a fantasy of a man, brings chaos into her life in the best and worst ways. Torn between following the plan with a real man and risking it all for a fantasy, Abisola learns she may not have a choice.

Thomas Hoffmann didn’t realize he was looking for someone special until Abisola walked into his life. A man of the world, he had become a little jaded, but Abisola’s quick wit and creative spirit sparked an interest in him unlike any he had ever experienced. One who lives in the moment, he can see spending the rest of his moments with Abisola, but others’ plans may get in the way.

BPM: Give us some insight into your main characters. What makes each one so special? Romance books follow a formula, so I can’t say my hero and heroine are any more special than any other romance hero and heroine. I will say that what makes this novella special is my take on the 4thof July theme. When I was young, I was told that America is a melting pot. To my family that meant that we lose our culture to assimilate into the dominant culture (Yeah, we were that family, and I’m proud to say I carried that on to my children). Instead, we chose follow the America being a salad with all the differences complementing each other. Best Laid Plans ties into both of these. I look forward to discussions to see what others think of this topic.

BPM: What was your hardest scene to write, the opening or the close? The close. I tend to deal with heavy issues in my romances that take an emotional toll on readers in ways that aren’t conducive to the happily ever after readers expect from a romance. So I have to ensure to wrap things up appropriately and give that happily ever after.

BPM: Is there a specific place/space/state that you find inspiration in? No, not really. I find inspiration in people and what they are going through. Like many authors, I’m a people watcher.

BPM: Do you want each book to stand on its own or do you prefer to write series? I prefer to write stand-alone books, but my readers seem to always want to know about the other characters, so I end up writing series. Even with my series, I try to write so that each book can stand alone.

BPM: Does writing energize you? The writing itself doesn’t energize me. Reading the book a few weeks after it’s completed editing energizes me. It’s kind of like my gym workouts. I enjoy getting my workout on, but it’s still work. Seeing the results of the workout is what energizes me and encourages me to continue going.

BPM: Do you believe in writer’s block? No. When I released titles every few months, there were times when I needed to step away from my current project because I needed distance from it to think clearly again. I’d work on something else, then come back to it sometimes a week or two later.

BPM: Is there a certain type of scene that’s harder for you to write than others? Sex scenes. I was at a conference and learned that many authors also write those last.

BPM: Have you written any other books that are not published? Yes. I have two books that I wrote that are AWFUL. I wrote them when I was early in the writing craft. The head hopping I did should have been illegal. Early on I said I’d rewrite them, but I doubt that will ever happen.

BPM: What projects are you working on at the present? I’m learning the craft of screenwriting. A pilot I wrote called Dangerous Games is getting some attention. I start a six-week class on pilot writing soon and hope to complete my second pilot during that course. I’m currently writing a piece for the Still Standing anthology. I along with four other authors are writing fiction and nonfiction pieces about how cancer affected our lives. This title will be released in October. I’m also completing a romance novel.

BPM: Tell us about your most recent work beyond this collection. Available on Nook and Kindle? My most recent work was Dark Geisha, the third book in the dangerously-sexy suspense series I write with Curtis Alcutt. This is a series that should be read in order. Roman and Jeanette, the two main characters, are my two favorite characters to write. They are flawed, but two of the most loving people in their own crazy way. The series is available on Kindle, Nook and in Print on Amazon. The order is: Roman & Jeanette, Hell Hath No Fury, then Dark Geisha.

BPM: What is your preferred method to have readers get in touch with or follow you? The majority of my readers just want to read my next book, so I suggest signing up for my announcements. I only send them out when I have a new title or if I’ll be at an event. If they want to email me, they can do so through my website. Here is the page to sign up for the special announcements and to email me.

BPM: How can readers discover more about you and your work? The only social media account I actually keep up with is my Facebook one. I ask that you don’t send friend request, but instead, subscribe to my page. Facebook as a limit of friends they allow, so I no longer accept friend request. But you can have unlimited subscribers: https://www.facebook.com/deatri

Books featured in the Boxed Set * Ann Clay – Love for Liberty * Barbara Keaton – Heat at First Sight * Deatri King-Bey – Best Laid Plans * Donna Hill – Summer Sizzle * Nicki Night – Sweet Heat Rising * Xyla Turner – The Fourth

  Best Laid Plans by Deatri King-Bey (Love Like It’s Hot Box Set) Best Laid Plans by Deatri King-Bey (Love Like It's Hot Box Set) Abisola Tersoo, a gracious woman of beauty, kindness, and focus, knows there has always been a plan for her future.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Psalms

for Tuesday, june 16 of 2020 with Psalm 16 accompanied by Psalm 90 for the 90th day of Spring and Psalm 18 for day 168 of the year

[Psalm 16]

The Golden Secret

A precious song, engraved in gold, by King David

Keep me safe, O mighty God.

I run for dear life to you, my safe place.

So I said to the Lord God,

“You are my Maker, my Mediator, and my Master.

Any good thing you find in me has come from you.”

And he said to me, “My holy lovers are wonderful,

my majestic ones, my glorious ones,

fulfilling all my desires.”

Yet there are those who yield to their weakness,

and they will have troubles and sorrows unending.

I never gather with such ones,

nor give them honor in any way.

Lord, I have chosen you alone as my inheritance.

You are my prize, my pleasure, and my portion.

I leave my destiny and its timing in your hands.

Your pleasant path leads me to pleasant places.

I’m overwhelmed by the privileges

that come with following you,

for you have given me the best!

The way you counsel and correct me makes me praise you more,

for your whispers in the night give me wisdom,

showing me what to do next.

Because you are close to me and always available,

my confidence will never be shaken,

for I experience your wrap-around presence every moment.

My heart and soul explode with joy—full of glory!

Even my body will rest confident and secure.

For you will not abandon me to the realm of death,

nor will you allow your Holy One to experience corruption.

For you bring me a continual revelation of resurrection life,

the path to the bliss that brings me face-to-face with you.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 16 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 90]

Book 4

The Numbers Psalms

Psalms of our pilgrimage on earth

God, the Eternal

A prayer of Moses, God’s prophet

Lord, you have always been our eternal home,

our hiding place from generation to generation.

Long before you gave birth to the earth

and before the mountains were born,

you have been from everlasting to everlasting,

the one and only true God.

When you speak the words “Life, return to me!”

man turns back to dust.

One thousand years pass before your eyes

like yesterday that quickly faded away,

like a night’s sleep soon forgotten.

One day we will each be swept away into the sleep of death.

We glide along through the tides of time—

so quickly gone, like a dream that fades at dawn.

Like glistening grass that springs up one day

and is dry and withered the next, ready to be cut down!

Terrified by your anger, confined beneath the curse,

we live our lives knowing your wrath.

For all of our faults and flaws are in full view to you.

Everything we want to hide, you search out

and expose by the radiance of your face.

We are banished to live in the shadow of your anger.

Our days soon become years until our lifetime comes to an end,

finished with nothing but a sigh.

You’ve limited our life span to a mere seventy years,

yet some you give grace to live still longer.

But even the best of years are marred by tears and toils,

and in the end with nothing more than a gravestone in a graveyard!

We’re gone so quickly, so swiftly;

we pass away and simply disappear.

Lord, who fully knows the power of your passion

and the intensity of your emotions?

Help us to remember that our days are numbered,

and help us to interpret our lives correctly.

Set your wisdom deeply in our hearts

so that we may accept your correction.

Return to us again, O God!

How much longer will it take until you show us

your abundant compassion?

Let the sunrise of your love end our dark night.

Break through our clouded dawn again!

Only you can satisfy our hearts,

filling us with songs of joy to the end of our days.

We’ve been overwhelmed with grief;

come now and overwhelm us with gladness.

Replace our years of trouble with decades of delight.

Let us see your miracles again, and let the rising generation

see the glorious wonders you’re famous for.

O Lord our God, let your sweet beauty rest upon us

and give us favor.

Come work with us, and then our works will endure,

and give us success in all we do.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 90 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 18]

I Love You, Lord

Praises sung to the Pure and Shining One, by King David, his servant, composed when the Lord rescued David from all his many enemies, including from the brutality of Saul

Lord, I passionately love you and I’m bonded to you,

for now you’ve become my power!

You’re as real to me as bedrock beneath my feet,

like a castle on a cliff, my forever firm fortress,

my mountain of hiding, my pathway of escape,

my tower of rescue where none can reach me.

My secret strength and shield around me,

you are salvation’s ray of brightness shining on the hillside,

always the champion of my cause.

All I need to do is to call to you,

singing to you, the praiseworthy God.

When I do, I’m safe and sound in you.

For when the ropes of death wrapped around me

and terrifying torrents of destruction overwhelmed me,

taking me to death’s door, to doom’s domain,

I cried out to you in my distress, the delivering God,

and from your temple-throne you heard my troubled cry.

My sobs came right into your heart

and you turned your face to rescue me.

The earth itself shivered and shook.

It reeled and rocked before him.

As the mountains trembled, they melted away!

For his anger was kindled, burning on my behalf.

Fierce flames leapt from his mouth,

erupting with blazing, burning coals as smoke

and fire encircled him.

He stretched heaven’s curtain open and came to my defense.

Swiftly he rode to earth as the stormy sky was lowered.

He rode a chariot of thunderclouds amidst thick darkness,

a cherub his steed as he swooped down,

soaring on the wings of Spirit-wind.

Wrapped and hidden in the thick-cloud darkness,

his thunder-tabernacle surrounded him.

He hid himself in mystery-darkness;

the dense rain clouds were his garments.

Suddenly the brilliance of his presence broke through

with lightning bolts and with a mighty storm from heaven—

like a tempest dropping coals of fire.

The Lord thundered, the great God above every god

spoke with his thunder-voice from the skies.

What fearsome hailstones and flashes of fire were before him!

He released his lightning-arrows, and routed my foes.

See how they ran and scattered in fear!

Then with his mighty roar he laid bare the foundations of the earth,

uncovering the secret source of the sea.

The hidden depths of land and sea were exposed

by the hurricane-blast of his hot breath.

He then reached down from heaven,

all the way from the sky to the sea.

He reached down into my darkness to rescue me!

He took me out of my calamity and chaos

and drew me to himself,

taking me from the depths of my despair!

Even though I was helpless in the hands

of my hateful, strong enemy,

you were good to deliver me.

When I was at my weakest, my enemies attacked—

but the Lord held on to me.

His love broke open the way

and he brought me into a beautiful broad place.

He rescued me—because his delight is in me!

He rewarded me for doing what’s right and staying pure.

I will follow his commands and never stop.

I’ll not sin by ceasing to follow him, no matter what.

For I’ve kept my eyes focused on his righteous words

and I’ve obeyed everything that he’s told me to do.

I’ve done my best to be blameless and to follow all his ways,

keeping my heart pure.

I’ve kept my integrity by surrendering to him.

And so the Lord has rewarded me with his blessing.

This is the treasure I discovered

when I kept my heart clean before his eyes.

Lord, it is clear to me now that how we live

will dictate how you deal with us.

Good people will taste your goodness, Lord.

And to those who are loyal to you,

you love to prove that you are loyal and true.

And for those who are purified, they find you always pure.

But you’ll outwit the crooked and cunning with your craftiness.

To the humble you bring heaven’s deliverance.

But the proud and haughty you disregard.

God, all at once you turned on a floodlight for me!

You are the revelation-light in my darkness,

and in your brightness I can see the path ahead.

With you as my strength I can crush an enemy horde,

advancing through every stronghold that stands in front of me.

What a God you are! Your path for me has been perfect!

All your promises have proven true.

What a secure shelter for all those

who turn to hide themselves in you!

You are the wrap-around God giving grace to me.

Could there be any other god like you?

You are the only God to be worshiped,

for there is not a more secure foundation

to build my life upon than you.

You have wrapped me in power,

and now you’ve shared with me your perfection.

Through you I ascend to the highest peaks of your glory

to stand in the heavenly places, strong and secure in you.

You’ve trained me with the weapons of warfare-worship;

now I’ll descend into battle with power

to chase and conquer my foes.

You empower me for victory with your wrap-around presence.

Your power within makes me strong to subdue,

and by stooping down in gentleness

you strengthened me and made me great!

You’ve set me free from captivity

and now I’m standing complete, ready to fight some more!

I caught up with my enemies and conquered them,

and didn’t turn back until the war was won!

I pinned them to the ground and broke them to pieces.

I finished them once and for all; they’re as good as dead.

You’ve placed your armor upon me

and defeated my enemies, making them bow low at my feet.

You’ve made them all turn tail and run,

for through you I’ve destroyed them all!

Forever silenced, they’ll never taunt me again.

They shouted for help but not one dared to rescue them.

They shouted to God but he refused to answer them.

So I pulverized them to powder and cast them to the wind.

I swept them away like dirt on the floor.

You gave me victory on every side,

for look how the nations come to serve me.

Even those I’ve never heard of come and bow at my feet.

As soon as they heard of me they submitted to me.

Even the rebel foreigners obey my every word.

Their rebellion fades away as they come near;

trembling in their strongholds,

they come crawling out of their hideouts.

Cringing in fear before me, their courage is gone.

The Almighty is alive and conquers all!

Praise is lifted high to the unshakable God!

Towering over all, my Savior-God is worthy to be praised!

Look how he pays back harm to all who harm me,

subduing all the people who come against me.

He rescues me from my enemies;

he lifts me up high and keeps me out of reach,

far from the grasp of my violent foe.

This is why I thank God with high praises!

I will sing my song to the highest God,

so all among the nations will hear me.

You have appointed me king and rescued me

time and time again with your magnificent miracles.

You’ve been merciful and kind to me, your anointed one.

This favor will be forever seen upon your loving servant, David,

and to all my descendants!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 50 (The Passion Translation)

[noctis-hq]

congratulations ROSIE! you’ve been selected for the role of Leopold “Leo” Durant, also known as the escape artist. please look over the checklist here. you have 48 hours to send your account to the main. welcome to the family!

MAN. you guys did not make this one easy on me either. i really struggled on who to go with this one but in the end, i think leo really captured what i envisioned for the escape artist. i could feel his turmoil in your bio. i was with him every step of the way hoping it would work and breaking when it didn’t. and the details about his nana’s grimoire freaking got me. chills. honestly, i’m so excited to see leo and just can’t wait for my heart to break some more with your beautiful writing!

&&. THE AUDIENCE

alias: Rosie

age & timezone: 21, PST

activity. I try and post at least once a day, and I try and get all my replies done before bed.  I’d say a 9 or 10.

&&. THE ACT

skeleton

: The Escape Artist

reasoning: The fact that they’re always on the run and are now stuck at the school intrigues me.  I think this is going to cause a lot of inner turmoil for this character, and I hope to explore that.  

name: Leopold ‘Leo’ Durant

faceclaim: Thomas Doherty

age & birthday: June 6th 1995 (23)

gender: Male

key traits:

Headstrong - Once Leo makes a decision, he sticks with it and no one can change his mind. As long as he thinks he is taking the best route, he will steady his course.  His focus has helped him get through life, and when he was younger it resulted in many awards and accomplishments in school.

Fearful - While he is focused and set in his decisions, he mainly makes them out of fear.  Fear is his driving force. He doesn’t want to get hurt or hurt anyone else. This all began when his powers started to manifest.

ability:

Necromancy - Leo can communicate with the dead, and revive small creatures.  However, whenever he brings something back to life, something else dies. He can see and hear spirits, but when he sees them it is only for a brief moment and when he hears them their words are often jumbled and he cannot decipher what they’re saying.  When spirits appear to him, it is only for a split second and they appear how they looked when they died.

I chose necromancy because this is the power I saw fitting best with the character’s history and helped explain why he is the way he is today.

bio. 

Leopold Vincent Durant was born in New Hampshire to Scarlett and Paul Durant when they were both in their late 30s.  He was considered a ‘miracle baby’, since his parents had trouble conceiving and were deemed infertile years prior. He was an imaginative and clever young boy, running around and playing in the woods near his house.  He could make props out of anything. He would play superhero and make capes out of ragged towels. He may have been an only child but he never felt lonely. He had an innate ability to entertain himself, and that creativity is still with him today.  

He was, and is, incredibly focused. Once he sets his mind to a task he cannot stop until it is done, not even taking breaks to sleep or eat.  This earned him high grades in school, and his friendly attitude drew people to him in high school. He joined the school baseball team and was well liked among the student body.  He was voted Most Likely to Succeed by his classmates, and graduated with a plan to earn a business degree at a college nearby. Given that his parents were older, he wasn’t comfortable leaving them with their increasing number of health problems.  Leo had a positive outlook on life, and figured that the pieces were going to fall where they would and he was just going to make the best out of it. His college life started out as he expected. He would go to school, go to work, then come home. All of his friends went away to college so he didn’t have anyone to hang out with, but that was fine.  He had his family. He tried out for the college baseball team but unfortunately didn’t make it. He figured it was for the best, that way he could work more. Leo carried his happy go lucky attitude through his freshman year of college. He made a few friends, but none of them were true friends as they didn’t talk outside of school.

It was his sophomore year, when he was 19, that things began to change.  He started seeing figures out of the corner of his eye, and hearing voices.  At first he thought it was just stress and that it would go away after a while, but it didn’t.  It began happening more and more. He would see a lot of elderly people with ashen skin, standing there with their eyes fixed on him as if he were the only one there.  Then, after the blink of an eye, they were gone. He would occasionally see something more sinister. Men and women with blood dripping down their faces from an accident or someone with a bullet wound.  Those were the ones who scared him; they caught him off guard. That was when he started seeing a psychiatrist, who then prescribed him medication. Much to his dismay, it didn’t work.

Naturally, he told his family about what was going on, with the voices and the figures.  They seemed confused and concerned, but his grandmother sat with a smile. He didn’t understand at first, but he would after she passed a year later.  His Nana Jude was an eccentric woman who never hid her interest in curiosities. She had odd figurines lining her shelves and a stylized pattern painted on her walls that looked like something out of a fantasy novel.  She would always talk about the power of the individual and how one could do great things if the discovered then harnessed it. That the world was full of energy that was waiting to be used by the ‘awakened’. There were a few times where he could have sworn she’d summoned household items right into her hand, but later convinced himself he imagined it.  The night she died, Leo was woken up by a loud thud. After turning on the lights he saw what appeared to be a dark green, leather bound book on his desk. He’d never seen it before, and figured he’d ask his parents about it in the morning, thinking they were playing some sort of joke on him. After mentioning it casually at the breakfast table, they claimed to know nothing of it.  Shortly after was when they received word that Nana Jude had passed away.

When Leo opened the book, it appeared to be full of blank pages.  However, handwritten words began to appear. His Nana’s name was written on the cover sheet.  Within it were instructions for rituals and spells, none of which Leo understood. He wasn’t surprised that his Nana was involved in witchcraft, he just didn’t think any of it was real.  In fact, the sort of thought she was a bit crazy to think any of it would actually work. So, he shoved the book under his bed and didn’t think about it for months. That is, until his childhood dog died.

He came home from work one evening to learn that Tino, the Jack Russell Terrier he’d had since childhood, was ill and needed to be put down. Leo saw it coming, but he was crushed.  He wanted to stay in the room with him while they put him down to calm him, even though his parents said he shouldn’t. After they completed the euthanasia, the vet gave the family a few moments to say goodbye.  He was even more emotional given that he was still grieving the loss of his grandmother, but still, he knew he had to let go, no matter how much he didn’t want to lose him. So, he gave him one last pat and walked out the door.  His hand felt warm, and his family told him that his skin had gotten really red. However, he just figured it was because he was emotional.

Just as they were gathering themselves for the ride home, the vet came back and said that Tino had survived the procedure and had no trace of the illness.  They were overjoyed and brought the dog back home. They came to realize though that this wasn’t the same dog. It wouldn’t respond to its name, it was never excited to see them, it didn’t like to eat, and it didn’t like to play.  All it did was lay and stare at whoever was in the room. It was Tino’s body, sure, but Leo didn’t believe that Tino was actually in there.

It was weird to him, and he remembered the feeling in his arm and how his skin was red as if he’d come from running a mile.  During a fight with his dad, he knocked over a planter full of dead flowers, and he felt the same odd burning sensation in his palm.  After going for a walk to cool off, he found the flowers as vibrant as ever in the displaced dirt at his feet, but the grass in their front yard was brown and dry.  That was when he decided to take a second look at the book, and he began wondering if all the magic could be real.

The voices occurred more and more, it became so loud that he couldn’t sleep most nights.  The figures stuck around too. They were always the same ones, it was like they were haunting him.  Though he couldn’t understand their words or get a long enough look to read their expressions, he had the feeling they wanted his help.  There was nothing he could do… except get away.

So, when he was 20, he said goodbye to Hampshire.  Leo dropped out of college and told his parents he’d met some girl and they were eloping.  He wished that were the case. He figured that the souls couldn’t follow him everywhere, and that once he lost them, he’d be free.  He was right. When he got to Maine, the spirits that were forever in his company had vanished. He tried to settle there, to have. Real life.  He got a job, and even made friends with the single mom who lived across the hall of his apparent complex. He would babysit her daughter for a little extra cash.  The girl had a hamster and a dog. While she loved her rodent, her dog Spot was her best friend. When he was watching her one day, her hamster escaped from his cage.  While scurrying around looking for him, the young girl accidentally stepped on him, resulting in his death. Leo, hating to have to see her sad, picked up the hamster and tried to muster up the same amount of emotional energy he had when he brought Tino back.  His arm got really warm and he felt exhausted, and that’s how he knew it worked. She was so happy, but only for a second. In the other room, they discovered her French Bulldog Spot laying dead on the floor. He died suddenly while eating from his bowl. The girl wept and yelled; and Leo just knew it was his fault even though she wasn’t blaming him.  He knew the universe needed balance; a life for a life.

He left that city and went to the next.  He has to leave every few months due to the spirits finding him, and he can’t handle the constant noise on his head.  He’s afraid of death, every time anything dies he panics. It doesn’t matter if it’s a mouse, plant, or insect. He’s afraid he’s going to accidentally bring it back and end up killing something else.  He’s more anxious than he’s ever been, and has resulted to petty crime just to get by. He steals what he needs and breaks into model homes to sleep. It’s a horrible life, but at least he’s not bombarded with constant screeching from souls he can’t help.  His once friendly demeanor has changed to one that is closed off. Getting close to anyone is useless, since he’ll be gone in 6 months anyway. He’s lonely and scared. The longer he has these powers the more frightened he becomes of them. They are the worst thing to ever happen to him.  

When he came across The School the small remnants of his hopeful personality sparked.  He thought, just for a second, that maybe these people could help him. Maybe they could help him control or get rid of it.  There was a possibility for him to have a better life. In less than a day though he decided against that, because it was best to keep on doing what he was doing since it was guaranteed to work.  It had for three years anyway. These people, this place, he knew nothing of it. He didn’t want to be stuck somewhere where getting help was only a slim chance. Although, he’s coming to realize that walking out isn’t going to be as easy as walking in.  

extras.

Headcanons -

He hates going to hospitals.  Whenever he goes he is bombarded with spirits trying to talk to him, even though it all sounds like a blur.  It’s so loud that he can’t hear a live person speaking. However, graveyards are surprisingly quiet.

He learned how to ballroom dance for his senior prom, and surprised his then girlfriend during the dance.

He blames his magic for the way his life has turned out and thinks he’d be better off without it.  

He hasn’t spoken to his family in over two years and it kills him everyday.  Although, he has a fake social media account so he can check up on them.

No one knows about his powers. He doesn’t trust anyone enough and he doesn’t want them to think he’s crazy.

He’s tried to burn his Nana’s Grimoire, but it won’t catch fire. Whenever he tries to ditch it, it comes back to him.

#nox: accepted

[thekestrelsbeater-blog]

Tracey - “How long have you been standing there?”

The blistering heat that accompanied the month of June had bore down on the almost sixteen-year-old’s back as he ran through the countryside.  Zach had begun the obsession with working out and getting into shape the year before when he was trying to forget about what the older Ravenclaw had done to him mentally. He remembered the laughs and taunts that followed him.  But they had slowly died away as the year had come to a close and the same people that taunted him had shown up to his annual birthday party that was open to anyone who knew about it.  That tradition started when he was thirteen.  Before that, it was just a small get together of friends.  But he had convinced his parents to let it be open to anyone and so began the yearly tradition of anyone showing up to his party. As alcohol had begun to get served after all the adults left, his party had become the place to be as June twenty-first rolled around every year.

Choosing to take a new route, Zach turned up a steep hill that led to some of the older wizarding families that he knew belonged to long lines of Slytherins.  His breathing changed as he approached the top of the hill.  He never understood why some people wanted to live at the top of a hill like this.  But he assumed that it had to do with the families being able to look down at those around them to make themselves feel better and act like everyone else was beneath them.  But it was just how these people were that lived at the top of this hill.  Zach had almost agreed with those ideas when he was younger.  Now that his eyes were opened, he was dubbed a blood traitor for being a Pureblood and in Hufflepuff.  Yet he still drew the attention of others around him, which amused him greatly since he was still sought after by those of the opposite sex.

As he crested the hill, he looked down and noticed that his shoe was untied.  Coming to a stop in front of a house, he wasn’t paying attention to who was outside as he knelt down to tie his shoe.  He had only heard the voice of the girl that he had known since he was five-years-old call out to him, her friends behind her laughing as she approached him. “Look who it is girls.”  He stood up and looked down to the redhead that he had grown up with and most recently started hooking up with.  She had been one of the few constants in his life that he had chosen to be with.  “I was just stopping Davis so that I didn’t fall flat on my face.  I’m not really wanting to stick around here.  Your snobbery might rub off on me.”  Her back had been to her friends and he saw a smirk on her lips.  “Come on Trace, let’s leave this blood traitor.”  He saw Tracey’s smirk slip from the name.  She had often told him that she would never call him that no matter how much he said it sounded convincing.  He looked up as he saw her House Elf in the entrance of the house calling the three Slytherin girls inside.

“Come by tonight around six.  My parents are leaving for the night.”  She whispered to him and he nodded quickly so that the other two girls didn’t see him. Taking off without saying anything, he ran off down the street and turned on the cul-de-sac, having to run past Tracey’s house again.  Their relationship would always be a secret throughout the years, never once speaking to another person about it until it was brought into the light for Susan and Pansy. And it would almost seem that Zach was more in love with Tracey than he was with Susan.  But at the moment, he didn’t realize that he was actually in love with Tracey.  She had just been the close friend that he had known for so long.  He had known all of her secrets, or at least he thought he did. He would learn another secret of hers later that night that would make him want to say something to someone, but she would make him swear not to tell another living soul.

As his run had come to a close, he returned home to find that he was going to be the only one at home for that weekend. He couldn’t find a reason to complain about that.  But he was in a house where he had been designated the only male.  As he read over his mother’s note, she had told him that he could invite some of his friends over.  But she underlined a part in French that he knew said, “Absolutely no girls.”  His mother had known him far too well.  It was almost too well for his liking.  It made him wonder if she knew about what he had done in his spare time while at school. Shaking his head, he placed the note on the kitchen island and told himself that his mother couldn’t have known. Unless if Amanda had told her that he often would keep random girls’ company but how would Amanda really know that?

He didn’t want to think about it.  He didn’t want his little sister to know exactly what he was up to whenever they weren’t around each other.  It would put a different image of him inside her head even though she would be the one she would turn to when she was afraid that she was pregnant while she was still at school.  He would hate hearing about it but wouldn’t talk down to her after she told him.  Of course, he would have been relieved to find out it was a false alarm and they both would never utter a word to their mother about this.  There were some things that their sibling bond would help keep quiet from their mother and she wouldn’t be able to break it.  He would want to kill the boy that had caused this scare, promising Amanda that he would never do it but still causing the other male to fear him and have it in his head that Zach would do something to him.

Deciding to take advantage of the empty house which also meant that the pool would be vacant, Zach went upstairs to change and did a few laps through the pool.  He still had a few hours before he would make the journey once again to Tracey’s house, not having to worry about the fact that he would been seen by her parents or her friends.  He had been threatened numerous times to never come near Tracey by her father. But Zach had laughed once he was away from the older man.  If her father had known what Zach and Tracey had done, it would probably lead to Zach’s early death.  Zach knew he was intensely disliked by her father, that much had been obvious after Zach was sorted into Hufflepuff.  He wondered how different everything would have been if he was placed in Slytherin like the hat originally wanted him to be.  However, there was also the fact that both his parents were Aurors so that could be the icing on the cake that added to the man’s instant dislike of Zach and his family.

Without realizing what time it was, Zach had swam to the edge of the pool and checked his watch that was laying on his towel.  “Shit.” He muttered as he got out of the pool and grabbed his towel.  He had known what to expect for that night.  It had been the same whenever the pair were now sneaking around without anyone knowing what they were going to do.  He made his way into the house, the clock just inside the door had told him that it was fifteen minutes past five.  He didn’t realize that that night he would discover one of Tracey’s dark secrets that she had been keeping from him for the past several years.  She was being held down by her father, her screams echoed throughout her house as her mother sat by and did nothing to help her daughter. They wouldn’t be hooking up that night. Instead, Zach would be offering her comfort to show her that she was never alone.  However, he wouldn’t know the extent of the injuries the man that swore to protect her was inflicting on her.

Once his watch had said quarter to six, he started to make his way towards her house.  It would take him nearly twenty minutes to get up there, making it to her house a couple minutes past six if he walked up the hill fast enough. As he walked, he hummed one of his father’s favorite songs and tuned out the world around him.  He still felt the sting of not having his father around.  It was a wound that he knew would never heal no matter what he tried to do.  He wouldn’t really be able to move on past it.  The nightmares would plague him as he imagined his father’s corpse reaching towards him, wanting to take him from this world.  In his dreams, Zach would always allow it to happen.  He felt a certain numbness and came up with the idea that alcohol would often fill the void that he had been feeling.  It didn’t help that his cousin in France had given him alcohol to help him cope.  It was Zach’s addictive personality that would come through and he would get used to the feeling that the liquor appeared to provide.

Finding himself outside her house, he had been lost in his thoughts as he walked.  He hadn’t really thought of his that much.  Or really, he didn’t try to.  He knew what was going to happen once he was alone.  He would go into the trunk under his bed and drink himself stupid since he would be alone at home.  Or else he was going to have Tracey come over to keep him company.  He’d go against his mother’s rule just as he always did. There was nothing that was really off limits for him and what he’d do when she was gone.  There was a part of him that had a feeling she expected him to break the rules though and she mostly had just written them as a sort of test to see how fast he would break them.  Or else it was just she wanted to be entertained by the idea that her son was actually a well-behaved kid that never stepped over any boundaries.  As he thought of that conclusion, he had actually let out a laugh that echoed around him.  It had made him seem like a mad person, but he had been completely alone in that instant so none of it really mattered.

He raised a hand and made a fist as he knocked on the front door.  It had swung open to reveal her House Elf after Zach looked down when he saw no one was standing before him.  He had expected it to be Tracey so that they could start their night together.  He had no idea that she was seen talking to him and she had been punished for it.  “Where’s Tracey?” He asked as he walked into the house and removed his shoes.  “Miss is upstairs.”  Nodding to the Elf, he made his way up to her room as the Elf closed the door behind him. The house was eerily empty and seemed cold.  But it often felt that way whenever he decided to come over and visit her.  It was as if her father had made the house aware of Zach’s presence somehow and this was how it reacted to him being around.  He thought it was crazy that someone could make this happen, but nothing really surprised him anymore.  Not until he would see her and learn one piece of the dark truth that she had been hiding for years.  Seeing the light from her room as it illuminated the hallway, he walked towards it and had known this was her room since they were both little.

Making it to the doorway, he froze as he saw her standing in front of her full-length mirror and examining some parts of her body.  His eyes had gone over her, seeing the cuts and bruises left from her father.  He had no idea that there were more injuries, a darker and more sinister truth that was hidden inside her body.  It was something that Zach would make sure her father would receive the Dementor’s Kiss during his stay in Azkaban after the second war.  His mouth had gone dry and he couldn’t say anything to her.  He had never seen these marks on her before.  He started to wonder if he had seen any scars when they were together.  He realized then that he had never focused on that part though.  The only thing he was focused on was feeding his sexual appetite with the girl that often satisfied them.  She hadn’t noticed him just yet.  She was standing in just a bra and underwear as she looked herself over with fear and tears in her eyes.  He had never seen her this broken before.  It was then that he saw her eyes in the mirror go over to him and she had frantically started to look for something to cover herself up to hide what her father had done.

“How long have you been standing there?”

It took him a few minutes to understand what she had said.  She had repeated her question a couple times until he responded, hearing her hiss as she covered her wounds with a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.  “Long enough.”  He muttered as he stepped into the room slowly.  He saw her back away at first, a small amount of fear was still in her eyes as she looked at him.  But she knew that she didn’t have to be afraid of him.  He had vowed a long time ago that he would never hurt her, and he would keep that promise for as long as the pair were together.  Seeing the fear in her eyes, he had stopped walking into her room. He would not move until she had given him the okay to get closer to her. “You should go home.”  He had never heard her voice being that soft before.  She had always exuded confidence whenever they were around each other.  Now it seemed that her confidence had been shaken and it was completely gone.  “Go home Zach.”  She repeated, this time with her back to him.

Zach still remained frozen as he looked at her.  Through the mirror, he had seen the tears creating tracks down her cheeks.  But he couldn’t move.  He could only stare at her as she stood with her arms wrapped around herself, visibly shaking from what he had discovered about her.  “Leave Zach!” She shouted at him, this time turning around and approaching him. She had started to hit his chest before fully collapsing into his arms.  Bringing his hand up, he placed it behind her head as she started to sob into his shirt.  “How long has this been going on, Trace?” He asked, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer out of her.  “Awhile.”  She said between sobs, holding onto him as he knew she didn’t want him to leave.  “Please don’t say anything to anyone.”  She had looked up to him and it pained him to nod and agree.  He didn’t want to agree to this.  Any other adult should know what was going on inside this house. He didn’t realize that she would get beaten while he was forced to listen later this summer.  He would be tucked away, hidden from the wrath of the man that took his anger out on his only daughter.

“Someone needs to know though.  He can’t get away with this.”  She shook her head as she stepped away from him, going over and sitting down on the couch in her room.  He didn’t know how he had known it was her father that did this to her.  It was just a hunch that he had given the few interactions that he had with her father.  Not to mention the looks that he thought he imagined that the man would give his daughter.  It wasn’t natural, and it was downright disturbing.  He would never understand how a man could put his hands on his daughter like that.  But he only knew of the beating, he didn’t know that she was being sexually assaulted on a regular basis while at home.  It would eventually answer his question why she was so reluctant to go home during the Christmas holiday at school.  “If anyone finds out, or you tell anyone, he will know and go after you.”  He went over and joined her on the couch, wrapping his arm around the back of the couch and inviting her to sit closer to him.  “How would he know it was me?” She moved closer to him and wrapped her arm around his waist.

“He just would. I can’t lose you.”  Zach pressed his lips to the top of her head and let out a deep sigh.  “You never will.”  He was never good at keeping his promises.  There were more times in which he would break the promises instead of being able to keep any of them.  But for Tracey, he would find himself able to keep his promises.  It was during this vulnerable moment that he realized how much he truly cared about her. “Will you stay tonight?” He looked down towards her, a small smile forming on his lips as he nodded his agreement to staying with her.  “What about your parents?” “They won’t be back until Sunday.”  He noticed her smile when she had looked up to him.  He could tell this was the good bit of news that she had had in a long time. The chance to be away from the person that caused her the most pain in this world and she was able to be the Tracey that he had known since they were little kids before everything had changed. Before their relationship had become complicated with the feelings that neither of them knew that they harbored for each other.  It was these feelings that they had to keep hidden from the world around them, not letting others know that the Slytherin and the Hufflepuff felt anything towards each other.

It would be easy to keep up the charade. The two had been perfecting what appeared to be hatred towards each other for many years.  This ‘hatred’ wouldn’t change their friendship, it would oddly strengthen it as they both remembered their childhood that formed a bond between the pair.  “Are you hungry? How about I go and make us some dinner?” He asked, after she laid her head back on his chest.  Hearing her laugh, she sat up as she looked at him and shook her head.  It was that laugh and the smile that rested on her lips that he was aiming for.  “Honestly, is that all you think about?”  “One of two things.”  He gave her a wink as he got up from the couch and held out his hand to help her up.  She rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand to stand up.  He led her out of her room, not noticing the fact that she had wiped her eyes free of the tears that her father had caused.  Zach would do everything in his power to make her forget what happened.  But the emotional scars would remain, and it was something that no matter how hard he tried, he could never fully get her to forget.