#italian coast guard

[jarofstyles]

Golden

Hello and welcome to Verboten (BFF!Dadrry) part 10!

I hope you enjoy this fluffy smutty piece because the next few will be... interesting ;)

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WC- 2.5k

Warnings- mentions of anxiety, smut, breeding kink, age gap, daddy kink

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Y/N did not want to leave Italy. 

She had fallen in love with the people, the food, the weather, the culture- and Harry. 

That was pretty clear at this point. 

His hand held her thigh under the table as they dined outside under the covered balcony, the sea air ruffling the hair that had escaped her pearly claw clip. They only had 2 days left and while she had been trying to focus on the time they had left, it was only more daunting to realize they had to come home and deal with their relationship. Telling the people who needed to know. 

Lia. 

Y/N had felt an awful pit in her stomach as she answered Lia’s messages every so often, thankfully her best friend being distracted by her own girlfriend to worry too much about texting her best friend. For once, she was relieved for the lack of bros over hoes. 

She was galavanting across the Italian coast with her best friend’s father. Sucking him off on the yacht he had chartered, clinging to his body in the salty water, letting him kiss away tears from laughing too hard and one too many drinks. His hands had almost constantly been on her and she had welcomed, no, encouraged each and every bit of it. 

Her teeth marked Harry’s golden skin, the Italian summer sun having left its mark on him in a delicious way that had Y/N almost feral. Her nails, that he had paid for being redone just a few days ago, leaving scratch marks on his back and also soothing him to sleep on a rocking boat yesterday while he had rested his head in her lap as she read. 

They weren’t just having sex. They were in love. This was a relationship, something that would be seen as the ultimate betrayal. But Y/N wasn’t going to give it up. 

Her whole life, she had been the one to give things up for people. She always tried to take care of everyone around her, her family, her friends, even strangers. She’d been the constant shoulder to cry one and the one ready to brave the world and her own fears for other people. So when Harry gave her a little taste of how good it felt to be taken care of, she fell in love with it. Albeit guiltily, she was letting him do the things he wanted for her- and she’d never seen him shine like this. 

Harry had always liked taking care of people, but he was far more selective. He had a big heart, yes, but it had stayed particularly guarded. With the money he had, the people he’d met, it had been an early lesson for him to know that yes, he could help but he had to cherry pick the people who would be actually deserving. Y/N clicked all those boxes. She provided him with a level of comfort, pleasure and affection that he’d always dreamt of. She allowed him to spoil her more and more each day, but he was eager to do more. As many times as he could admit his adoration for her, he wanted her dripping with diamonds and the things she wanted to wear, never to worry about a thing again. She’d worked hard in her life and god damn it, she fucking deserved it. She said thank you, smothering him with kisses with every surprise he had given her, every little fucking thing, and it made him feel so good it was ridiculous. From a cute pen he’d seen in a market stall to the yacht surprise, each little thing garnered a excited, sweet reaction from her. So he wanted to do more. 

“I know that we only have our two days left…” He stroked over her thigh, pads of his fingertips tracing the bend of her knee and back up. “But we’re going to come back. I promise. I’ve got the house here and I can work remote…” His face was soft, understanding that she didn’t want to go back home. It was such a welcome relief being here, so needed and refreshing that all it could possibly do is strengthen their foundation.

“I know.” She replied, placing her silverware down before taking a sip of her drink. “It’s just… I know that it’s probably going to be ugly for a while back home. Just as a general rule. I don’t want to hide at all, I’m not ashamed of being with you but I know there’s going to be a lot of blowback.” Y/N tried to explain it without it seemingly like she was backing out of their relationship. That wasn’t the case at all. “I know I’m going to lose some friends over this. And maybe I do deserve it. Maybe I shouldn’t have made a move on you, but it felt right. I needed to do it, and I don’t regret it at all. It’s necessary growth for us, and I can understand that but I just feel… anxious, I guess. To see who chooses to stay and who chooses to go.”

That was something Harry hadn’t really thought about, and as awful as he felt about it- he was more relieved that she said she didn’t regret it. Of course he didn’t want any blowback at all. “It’s tough, isn’t it my love?” He sighed sadly, gently grabbing her hand and bringing it up to his mouth. His lips pressed against her knuckles, the subtle sound of them disconnecting making her smile. “I know. It’s a risk, and I’m going to upset my daughter but you know… I want to be happy. I deserve love, and so do you. You’re of age, we’ve discussed a lot, it isn’t like we’re throwing this in anyone’s face to upset them. If our happiness matters so little to everyone ese, perhaps it wasn’t a good fit for them regardless.”

The only person’s reaction either of them really cared about was Lia’s. Harry was prepared to catch the brunt of her explosive temper. He was a grown man and he had been divorced for a bit. He understood that his choice in romantic partner was going to upset her, and he didn’t blame her. Neither of them could, because they both were rational and knew that it was a fucked up situation. He just hoped that they could work through it. He’d tried to pick Y/N’s brain about it but she seemed to understand her fate in this. 

Lia wasn’t going to forgive easily, nor would their friendship ever be the same, but she was hoping that with time, they could mend what was inevitably about to be smashed up. Make a mosaic out of the pieces that were bound to shatter. Harry meant so much to her already and she couldn’t give up the chance of having a lifetime sort of love. Her romantic heart couldn’t handle it. 

“You know…” Her lips tilted up. “I have always been a romantic. I always wanted love but I pretended I didn’t. I thought… maybe it would help me avoid being hurt. I’ve been afraid of having my heart broken for so long, I never was able to properly hand my heart over to anyone. They could maybe touch it, but it was under lockdown. It was really weird when…” She licked the wine from her lip, looking at his slight sunburned nose as she found her words. “It was really weird for me when I found myself wanting to hand it over to you. Like I knew you’d keep it safe. I’m still adjusting, I’m still learning but I feel so safe with you, it’s hard not to just give in.” 

That was music to his ears. His smile was brighter than the sun when she finished, his hand placing hers on his cheek as he pressed tiny kisses to her inner wrist. It was hard not to pull her into his lap, but he had to keep some decorum in this situation. His girl felt safe enough to hand him her heart, and that boost it gave him almost sent his own beating chest to the moon. “It’s safe with me. Always. I won’t let anything happen to it, not from my end.” He couldn’t promise nothing else in life wouldn't hurt her- but he would be damned if he didn't try. 

—--

“Go ahead, baby. You can have what you want.” His hot palms held the backside of her thighs as she lifted the sundress over her body, breasts spilling out as it was tossed onto floor. Harry’s cock was thick in his palm, wet from her saliva as she had gotten on her knees for him as soon as they’d entered the living room of the villa. Sucking with fervor, the younger girl had gotten him slick with her spit before he pulled her up to let her climb into his lap. 

“I want you.” Y/N whispered, hand going between them to angle his cock against her properly. Harry’s groan was motivation as she slipped down, only taking a bit at a time as she shakily exhaled her whine. “I want you to take me, and keep me. I want to be your girl, Daddy. Please.” Her hands held his shoulders, keeping steady as her cunt sunk down on his length. “Want t’be your girl and I want you to come home from work and love on me, want you to text me to be naked in your room for you, want to make you dinner- I just want to make you happy.” 

Harry was nearly speechless as her whiny demands, her true heart showing as she squeezed his shoulders and finally got seated fully on his cock. “Y-yeah? S’what my girl really wants?” It was like the world had answered his prayers. He was buried inside of her hot cunt, her mouth saying all the words he’s been itching to hear for a long while now. “Want to give that t’you. Should just live with me, hm?” He cooed. “Move right into my bed so you’re always there for me, and m’always there for you. I belong to you just as much.” His head rested against the couch, gently helping her lift up and slide back down slowly on his cock. Finding her pace, he wasn’t going to complain. 

“I-Should I?” She asked, eyes wide and hazy as she sunk fully back down, full to the brim with his cock in her tummy. “You’d want that?” It wasn’t probably the place to have this discussion but hey- he wasn’t going to deny it anymore. The idea of her going home to her place when his own place was empty sans himself, when she made it feel like a real home? He wanted her there. Possessive, needy, perhaps he was, but he really did want her there. It was moving quickly but it felt like maybe he needed it. No more waiting. 

“Mhm. You’re with me a lot but… Stay with me all the time, baby. Want my girl around, want to live with you.. Never want t’see you leave.” His lips connected with hers as she began to grind slowly on his cock, his hands sliding up to cup each side of her ass. Her kiss back was just as messy as her cunt, the feeling of being full making it hard to focus on anything but how good she felt and the feelings swarming her at the idea of moving in. “Move all your things in… Let daddy buy you more pretty things for your closet. Let me clean it out… let Daddy take care of you, find you a job you really like.”   Harry knew he was pathetically whipped for this woman, but he had no intention of hiding that from her. Y/N deserved to know how loved she was. 

“Y-Yeah, please. I want to be with you all the time.” Her nails dug into his skin a little as she bounced a few times on his prick, making them both moan. “Just want to be your girl, Daddy. Want to be yours in every way, want to smell like you, sleep in your bed, I want to- I want you.” Her confirmation was everything to him, sitting him up as he beamed. His strength was used as an advantage, turning them over so she was laid on the couch and he could look down at her. 

“Good. You are- you’re Daddy’s perfect fucking girl, and m’gonna spoil you rotten.” He spread her legs open, looking at the mess where they connected. Her poor cunt was still swollen from this morning but she took it like a camp, shuddering when his thumb brushed her clit. “God, handing yourself over to me… Love it so much. M’gonna take such good care of you, baby.” His promise was true. Her hand clutched over her breast, nodding up at him as her body tightened up slightly. The stimulation and new angle made it hard for her to breathe in the best of ways. 

His thrusts were deep and full of promise. Groaning through his teeth as he watched her underneath him, watching her face twist with pleasure and her stomach jump with his thrusts, he knew he didn’t ever want to see a body other than hers under him again. “S’my perfect girl. Going to wake up to you every day and see that perfect face, make you just as addicted to me as I am to you and this perfect body. You’ve ruined me.” Y/N had made him a man on his knees, weak for a woman when he swore he wouldn’t again. Only this time, it was worse, and he didn’t fucking care. He’d give it all up for her. “M’keeping you. Y’know that, baby? You belong to me, and m’gonna give you everything you’ve ever wanted…” one of hus hands fell down to her stomach. “Remember what we talked about? Hm? What did you want daddy to give you- What did you beg for?”

Y/N got even more wet, mewling at the pressure on her stomach as she remembered exactly what it was. “A baby- I want you to give me a baby, Daddy.” She whimpered. “Y-You said, you said you’d get me pregnant and I want it. I want it, I want you to breed me and keep me full and- oh, fuck.” Y/N’s begging was cut off with his deep thrusts gaining speed. He’d lifted her just a bit, abandoning her clit to pull her lower body up just a bit with his hands. Her eyes watered, feeling his cock punch right against the spot she had desperately needed with the adjustment, hands flailing to grab on to the couch as she got fucked. 

Harry liked the sound of that. Far too much. 

“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you the pretty house, pretty ring, pretty babies in you… You’re driving me mad. God,  I fucking love you. Stay with me, forever.” His face was beaded with sweat as he fucked into her deep, imagining those very things. She agreed to the house, moving in with him. He was sure that would be the direction they were going in. He wouldn’t let her go. 

Regardless of how much it could cost him.

#verboten #bff dad #bff dadrry #best friend’s dad Harry #harry styles age gap #best friends dad harry styles #jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles breeding #harry styles fic #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry smut #harry fluff #harry angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTO

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … March 25

1252 – Conrad, Bavarian royalty, born (d.1268); called the Younger or the Boy, but usually known by the diminutive Conradin, was the Duke of Swabia (1254-1268, as Conrad IV), King of Jerusalem (1254-1268, as Conrad III), and King of Sicily (1254-1258 as Conrad II). He was born in Wolfstein, Bavaria, son of Conrand IV of Germany. He is sometimes known as Conrad V, though he never succeeded his father in Germany.

Conradin was the last legitimate Hohenstaufen, tafter the assassination of Conrad IV. We know little of his appearance and character except that he was "as beautiful as Absalom and spoke good Latin".

While he was still a child in Germany, his uncle Manfred made himself king of Sicily (1258), but when Manfred died eight years later, the kingdom was seized by Charles of Anjou. Conradin was persuaded to come to Italy to recover his kingdom, and, accompanied by his lover, Frederick of Baden, titular Duke of Austria, he gained the support of several Italian cities.

In the end, however, Conradin was captured by Charles, tried as a traitor and beheaded. His lover, Frederick, at his own request, was executed with him. Conradin was just 16; Frederick was 21. To this day Gay lovers make pilgrimages to the church of the monastery of Santa Maria del Carmine at Naples, where the two young men were laid to rest, together.

1479 – Grand Prince Vasily III of Moscow, (d.1533), Prince and military general. Vasily was homosexual throughout his life. He went to the extent of announcing this fact to other gay men of his time by shaving off his beard when his twenty-year marriage to his first wife was terminated - being beardless was a sort of gay password at the time.

During Vasily's second marriage, he was able to perform his conjugal duties only when an officer of his guard joined him and his wife in bed in the nude.

1922 – Tobias Schneebaum (d.2005) was an American artist, anthropologist, and AIDS activist. He is best known for his experiences living, and traveling among the Harakmbut people of Peru, and the Asmat people of Papua, Western New Guinea, Indonesia then known as Irian Jaya.

He was born on Manhattan's Lower East Side and grew up in Brooklyn. In 1939 he graduated from the Stuyvesant High School, moving on to the City College of New York, graduating in 1943 after having majored in mathematics and art. During World War II he served as a radar repairman in the U.S. Army.

In 1947, after briefly studying painting with Rufino Tamayo at the Brooklyn Museum of Art, Schneebaum went to live and paint in Mexico for three years, living among the Lacandon tribe. In 1955 he won a Fulbright fellowship to travel and paint in Peru. After hitch-hiking from New York to Peru, he lived with the Harakmbut people for seven months, where he slept with his male subjects and claimed to have joined the tribe in cannibalism on one occasion.

The Harakmbut treated him well. They taught him words from their language and otherwise communicated through gesture. They shared their food with him and decorated his body in red pigments. At night in their communal hut, the Arakmbut men welcomed him into a warm body pile. These entanglements often turned sexual, to Schneebaum's delight. As he would later write, he had at last found a place where people "would accept me, teach me how to live without a feeling of aloneness, teach me love and allow for my sexuality."

Until 1970 he was the designer at Tiber Press, then in 1973 he embarked on his third overseas trip, to Irian Jaya in South East Asia, living with the Asmat people on the south-western coast. He helped establish the Asmat Museum of Culture and Progress. Schneebaum would return there in 1995 to revisit a former lover, named Aipit. He recounted his journey into the jungles of Peru in the 1961 memoir Keep the River on Your Right. In 1999, he revisited both Irian Jaya and Peru for a documentary film, also titled Keep the River on Your Right.

Schneebaum spent the final years of his life in Westbeth Artists Community, an artists' commune in Greenwich Village, and died in 2005 in Great Neck, New York. He bequeathed his renowned Asmat shield collection to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City and his personal papers are preserved within the Jean-Nickolaus Tretter Collection in Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Studies.

1942 – Richard O'Brien (born Richard Timothy Smith in Cheltenham, England) is a writer, actor, television presenter and theatre performer. He is perhaps best know known for writing the cult musical The Rocky Horror Show and for his role in presenting the popular TV show The Crystal Maze.

In addition to writing The Rocky Horror Show O'Brien also starred in its 1975 film adaptation The Rocky Horror Picture Show as the character Riff Raff. The stage show has been in almost continuous production since, and the cinematic version is one of the best known and most ardently followed cult films of all time.

In 1952, he emigrated with his family to Tauranga, New Zealand where his father had purchased a sheep farm. After learning how to ride horses, a skill which provided him with his break into the film industry as a stuntman in Carry On Cowboy, and developing a keen interest in comic books and horror films, he returned to England in 1964. Upon launching his acting career he changed his name to O'Brien — his mother's maiden name — as there was already an actor named Richard Smith.

He joined several stage productions as an actor without ever excelling or receiving critical acclaim, but that was not his primary objective. In 1972, he met director Jim Sharman who would help make his draft of a gothic-themed, schlock-horror comic-book fantasy romp into a reality. The script took O'Brien 6 months to write, Sharman suggested changing the working title They Came from Denton High to The Rocky Horror Show and the show opened in June 1973.

He became a serial bit-part actor in cult films and has appeared in notable movies such as Flash Gordon (1980), Dark City (1998) and Dungeons & Dragons (2000).

O'Brien has married twice and fathered three children. In a 2009 interview he spoke about an ongoing struggle to reconcile cultural gender roles and described himself as being transgender or possible third sex. O'Brien stated, 'There is a continuum between male and female. Some are hard-wired one way or another, I'm in between.' He expounded on this in a 2013 interview where he talked about using oestrogen for the previous decade, and that he views himself as 70% male and 30% female.

Elton John and David Furnish.

1947 – Elton John, English singer and songwriter, born; (born Reginald Kenneth Dwight) is an English pop/rock singer, composer, and pianist.

In his four decade career, John has been one of the dominant forces in rock and popular music, especially during the 1970s. He has sold more than 250 million albums, and over one hundred million singles, making him one of the most successful artists of all time. He has more than 50 Top 40 hits including seven consecutive #1 U.S. albums, 59 Top 40 singles, 16 Top 10, 4 #2 hits, and nine #1 hits. He has won five Grammy awards and one Academy Award. His success has had a profound impact on popular music and has contributed to the continued popularity of the piano in rock and roll. In 2004, Rolling Stone ranked him #49 on their list of the 100 Greatest Artists Of All Time.

In the late 1960s, John was engaged to be married to his first lover, secretary Linda Woodrow, who is mentioned in the song "Someone Saved My Life Tonight". He married German recording engineer Renate Blauel in 1984, in Darling Point, Sydney, with speculation that the marriage was a cover for his homosexuality. John had come out as bisexual in a 1976 interview with Rolling Stone, but after his divorce from Blauel in 1988 he told the magazine that he was "comfortable" being gay. Elton has a new look, and a sharp wit. "Ever since I had that interview in which I said I was bisexual," he grins, "it seems twice as many people wave at me on the streets."

In 1993, John began a relationship with Canadian David Furnish, a former advertising executive and now filmmaker. John and Furnish entered a civil partnership in 2005. They held a low-key ceremony at the Windsor Guildhall, followed by a lavish party at their Berkshire mansion, thought to have cost £1 million. Their son, Zachary Jackson Levon Furnish-John, was born to a surrogate mother in December 2010 in California. John and Furnish chose Lady Gaga, magazine editor Ingrid Sischy, and Sichy's partner Sandy Brant as Zachary's godmothers

John was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1994. He has been heavily involved in the fight against HIV-AIDS since the late 1980s and was knighted in 1998. He continues to be a champion for the LGBT social movements.

1958 – Today's the birthday of the award-winning British film and music-video director and screenwriter John Maybury. He directed the groundbreaking music video that made Sinead O'Connor a star: Nothing Compares 2U. In 2005 he was listed as one of the 100 most influential Gay and Lesbian people in Britain.

He studied at North East London Polytechnic and St Martins and designed sets for Derek Jarman's 'Jubilee', and worked with him on 'The Last of England', 'War Requiem' and 'The Tempest'.

In 1998 he produced his first full length feature Love Is the Devil: Study for a Portrait of Francis Bacon, a biopic starring Derek Jacobi and Daniel Craig (showing all in a lingering full-frontal). The film was screened in the Un Certain Regard section at the 1998 Cannes Film Festival. In 2005 he directed The Jacket with Adrien Brody and Keira Knightley. In 2008 his film The Edge of Love, a biopic on the life of Welsh poet Dylan Thomas starring Sienna Miller, Cillian Murphy, Matthew Rhys and Keira Knightley premiered. He also directed the final episode of the critically acclaimed HBO/BBC Rome series.

1962 – Thom Bierdz, openly gay American soap opera star and painter, born; Born in Kenosha, Wisconsin, this American actor is best known for his role as Phillip Chancellor III on The Young and The Restless, appearing from 1986 to 1989 and returning for one "dream sequence" in 2004.

Shortly after Thom left Y&R to pursue movie roles, his youngest brother Troy, a paranoid schizophrenic, beat their mother to death with a baseball bat. He is currently serving a life sentence in a Wisconsin prison. In May 2002, his other brother Craig committed suicide. Bierdz had devoted most of his time to painting in recent years, although he has also written a memoir entitled "Forgiving Troy."

On May 15, 2009, Bierdz re-appeared in The Young and The Restless as the mysterious character "Langley," who is eventually revealed to be Philip III, the heir to the Chancellor fortune. Phillip has been alive for the past 20 years and had faked his death after the drunk driving accident in 1989. In another revealing twist, Phillip returns to Genoa City and explains to Nina that the reason he left all those years ago is because he was gay and felt back then he would not have been accepted.

Thom has also written a memoir entitled "Forgiving Troy". In September 2009, The Human Rights Campaign at a Black Tie Gala themed "Speak Your Truth" presented Thom with their Visibility Award for his continued contributions to charity work for human rights, through his art, his acting, his writing, and his painting in the nude.

*(Hope you like my little joke!)

1979 – Lee Pace is an American actor. He is known for starring as Thranduil the Elvenking in The Hobbit trilogy and as Joe MacMillan in the AMC period drama television series Halt and Catch Fire. He has also appeared in the Marvel Cinematic Universe as Ronan the Accuser, a role he first played in Guardians of the Galaxy and reprised in Captain Marvel. He received an Emmy Award nomination for his portrayal of Ned in the ABC comedy-drama Pushing Daisies. From 2021, he stars as the galactic emperor Brother Day in the TV series adaptation of Isaac Asimov's science fiction stories Foundation.

Pace was born in Chickasha, Oklahoma. As a child, Pace spent several years in Saudi Arabia, where his father worked in the oil business; the family later moved to Houston, Texas. Pace attended Klein High School in Spring, Texas, a suburb of Houston, with actor Matt Bomer.

Pace briefly stopped attending high school to act at Houston's Alley Theatre before returning to graduate. At the Alley, he appeared in productions of The Spider's Web and The Greeks.

In 1997, he was accepted by the Juilliard School's Drama Division. While there, he was in several plays, including Romeo and Juliet as Romeo, Richard II in the title role, and Julius Caesar as Cassius. He graduated from Juilliard with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree.

Pace first gained recognition for his role in the 2003 film Soldier’s Girl, based on real events, in which he played the central role of Calpernia Addams.

Of the role, Pace has said:

Not even my excellent training at Juilliard prepared me for my first movie role, where I played a transsexual who falls in love with a military guy in Soldier’s Girl. Here I was, this 6 feet 3 inches (1.91 m), 190 pounds (86 kg), lanky kid from Chickasha, Oklahoma, not knowing how to begin being a woman. So I saw documentaries about transsexuals, I lost twenty-five pounds, and I put on prosthetic boobs and hips to become that character. There were times I’d look in the mirror and wonder, ‘What am I doing to my life here? My dad is going to kill me!’ But the reason I went into acting was to be able to play parts as complicated and important as this one. In playing a transsexual, I got the chance to help change people’s perspective about other people, and that is a powerful thing. I’m playing a swashbuckling bandit in my next film, but I’ll always be proud of Soldier’s Girl ”.Pace's sexual orientation became a topic of public discussion after he was accidentally outed as gay by Ian McKellen, who worked with him in The Hobbit films, in 2012. McKellen's "outing" was described in the press as a blunder and an accident on his part, as Pace had never addressed the subject. In June 2018, he spoke about being a queer actor in an interview with The New York Times

1983 – Andrew Goldstein (born in Milton, Massachusetts) is the first American male team-sport professional athlete to be openly gay during his playing career. He had been a professional lacrosse goaltender for the Long Island Lizards of Major League Lacrosse. He was originally drafted by his hometown team, the Boston Cannons.

The two-time All-American at Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire, Goldstein made headlines off the field in 2005 when he was dubbed by ESPN to be "the most accomplished male, team-sport athlete in North America to be openly gay during his playing career."

Yet as Goldstein points out, "gay All-American" is a phrase that is still contradictory for some:

"'All-American' is what you think of, you know, the three kids, the white picket fence, 'All-American'. And gay does not fit into that. So it's nice for me to hear 'gay All-American,' and to think it's just the same as 'All-American.' "

He revealed his sexuality to his team after the 2003 season, and an online essay that appeared on Outsport.com elevated his story to national prominence.

It was the first session of weight lifting during the summer term of Goldstein's sophomore year when he officially came out to his team. He pulled aside senior defender Matt Nicholson and told him he had a boyfriend, Ethan.

Nicholson, who had known Ethan previously, admittedly was surprised by the revelation, but he still managed a pretty decent comeback.

"Wow, man," he said, "he's hot."

Later, in an emotional e-mail, Nicholson told Goldstein it didn't change anything.

"I'm here for you," he wrote. "I'm your teammate. I'm your defenseman, and you're my goalie."

Goldstein was touched.

Goldstein asked Nicholson to pass the word to the rest of the team. If anybody had any questions or concerns, Goldstein said, have the player come talk to him. During the first few weeks, there were some uncomfortable moments.

When the news had settled on the team, a number of Goldstein's teammates apologized. It occurred to them that, in the macho, testosterone-charged atmosphere of the lacrosse locker room, they had probably offended their teammate countless times over the seasons.

SportsCenter: "Andrew Goldstein" (8 minutes)

In 2006, Goldstein was honored by being named to the OUT 100. He also received a prestigious 2006 GLAAD Media Award for the feature entitled "Andrew Goldstein" which aired on ESPN's Sportscenter.

A biochemistry and molecular biology major at Dartmouth, Goldstein has earned his Ph.D. in biology at UCLA with a specific focus on cancer. He is now a post-doctoral researcher at UCLA. On August 2, 2013, Goldstein was inducted into the National Gay and Lesbian Sports Hall of Fame.

1993 – Idaho enacts a sex offender registration law that includes consensual sodomy.

[bupia]

Eternal - Terzo x Fem!Reader

Summary: The things in your life were not going as you wanted to. You found yourself overwhelmed by a sense of hopelessness, immersed in a state of despair and uncertainty, you decided to give prayer a chance, entirely unaware of what life had prepared for you.

Words: 3.723

Warnings: SMUT (fingering; unprotected sex; dirty talk) | Italian swearing | Swearing | This is a fluff that escalates to smut!

You left your house with a resolve in your heart, determined to find solace within the embrace of a sacred space. Your eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for the first church, chapel, or any place that resonated with a sense of holiness. Spotting a church in the distance, you hastened towards its entrance, double-checking that no one else was around. Privacy was essential for the vulnerability of your prayers.

You approached the open front door of the church, and carefully ventured inside, ensuring the coast was clear. With a sense of liberation, you decided to do whatever you needed to do. Instead of venturing too close to the altar, you opted for one of the back benches, where you knelt down and brought your hands together in a heartfelt prayer. The quiet sanctuary enveloped you, allowing you to find solace and seek guidance in this sacred moment.

As you closed your eyes and whispered your heartfelt plea, a soft voice interrupted the silence from behind you. Startled, you turned around to find a man standing there, his eyes filled with warmth.

"Praying to God, bambina?" his words, lingered in the air.

A wave of emotions washed over you, leaving you feeling a mixture of surprise, relief, and a hint of vulnerability. The unexpected presence of someone in the church caught you off guard, as you had taken precautions to ensure the space was empty before entering.

You took a moment to collect yourself, "In my own way, I suppose. I just needed some guidance, some light." Your voice steadying as you replied.

He reached out, extending one of his gloved hands towards you. You eagerly grabbed hold of it, rising up from your kneeling position. The touch of his hand was gentle and reassuring, offering a sense of comfort and support in that moment.

"Sometimes, bambina, the answers we seek are closer than we think," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of wisdom. "Perhaps, in finding each other, we've found a source of light." He brought your hand close to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of it. "The mass is almost ready to begin, don't you want to stay?"

"I appreciate the offer," you began, leaving his hand, "but I'm not the religious type. I believe that answers can be found in various ways, even outside the walls of this church."

He nodded understandingly, you gave him a gentle smile and made your way to the front door of the church. However, before you could make your way towards the exit, he reached out and gently grasped your arm, his touch urging you to stay.

"Could you at least wait outside for me?" he asked earnestly. "There's something I'd like to share with you, something that might offer a different perspective. It won't take long."

Although you never saw this man before, he had a charm that were really persuasive. You wanted to tell him "no" but at the same time, you wanted to stay and wait for him. And that was what you did, with a soft smile, you nodded in agreement.

Little did you know, that in making the decision to wait for him outside the church, you would make a change in your life. After all, life, it seemed, had a way of proving us wrong when we least expected it. When the church doors swung open, you caught a glimpse of him stepping out, his eyes searching for you. And there it was—the most radiant smile you had ever seen.

You still remember the talk you two had on that day. Thee memory of your conversation with him flooded back, leaving a lasting imprint on your heart. His undivided attention, the way he listened intently to every word you spoke, made you feel seen and understood in a way you had never experienced before. When he came with the revelation that he was the leader of the mass, a sense of shock washed over you. He didn't fit the stereotypical image of a church leader, and the realization that he held such a position in a Satanic context left you momentarily trembling. Despite the initial surprise, you couldn't deny the magnetism he exuded, the way he made you feel seen and valued, and from that day forward, you found yourself attending the Sunday masses regularly.

Falling in love with him came effortlessly, as natural as the rhythm of your own breath. The depth of your connection grew with each passing week, fueled by shared experiences and profound conversations. There was an undeniable chemistry between you two, but as your heart grew more entangled in the web of love, a lingering question remained: Did him feel the same way?

Then, on a day that felt like any other, something shifted. As the final chords of the mass reverberated, the congregation began to disperse, leaving you and him standing face to face, he stepped forward, and his lips met yours in a gentle, passionate kiss. And at that moment, doubts and fears dissipated.

Honestly, Love was a word and a feeling that had forever eluded your complete understanding. Countless songs, quotes, books, movies, and TV shows tried to capture its essence, but it remained elusive, slipping through your fingers like an ethereal mist. However, the concept of an unbreakable bond between two individuals, as described by Madame de Stäel in her book, Corinne, or Italy: "Love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time; effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end." Though it seemed fantastical, you couldn't help but be drawn to the idea, wondering if such an all-encompassing love truly existed.

It wasn't that you didn't believe in love. Of course, you did. But the idea of a love that transcended time, that existed beyond the limitations of mortal existence, was something you doubted. The kind of love that could make time slip away, erase the memory of how it all began, and alleviate the fear of its eventual conclusion seemed like a mere fantasy.

As you spent more and more time with him, your comprehension of love expanded and deepened, it transcended the limits of mere existence, creating a bond that defied the conventional boundaries of time and space. You began to comprehend the true nature of love and its ability to surpass the constraints of time and mortality. The realization crashed over you like a tidal wave, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of foolishness for ever doubting the existence of such an extraordinary love, the kind that only the most passionate souls could fathom.

The sheer depth of your disbelief, once an unyielding conviction, now appeared like a relic of a bygone era. It felt as if a veil had been lifted, exposing a whole new realm of emotions and connections that were previously unimaginable. The intensity of your bond with him shattered all preconceived notions, leaving no space for doubt or skepticism to linger.

Love swept you both off your feet, and in no time, you found yourselves deeply in love, inseparable from one another. It didn't take long for you to make the leap and move in together, creating a cozy and shared space where your love could flourish.

Now, as you nestled together on the bed, the comforting warmth of Terzo's presence enveloped you like a cozy blanket on a chilly morning. His arm held you close, radiating a comforting heat that made you feel safe and loved to the core. Turning your body to face him, you rested your forehead gently against his collarbone, closing your eyes, taking a deep breath, inhaling deeply, savoring the comforting scent that enveloped you—a unique blend of warmth, comfort, and love. You enveloped him, wrapping your arms around him with a firm and loving hold, letting out a sigh.

A gentle chuckle slipped from Terzo's lips, coaxing your eyes open. "Are you already awake, cara?" he murmured, his eyes fluttering open lazily.

A tender smile graced your lips as you noticed the slight huskiness in his voice. "Yes, but it's too early. You can go back to sleep."

He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "And miss these precious moments with you before I have to leave? No, grazie, amore mio."

"Are you sure? I don't want to disrupt your rest," you started, but he interrupted you, gently planting a sweet kiss on your lips, leaving you momentarily breathless.

You couldn't help but giggle as Terzo playfully showered you with kisses, his lips trailing a path of affection across your face. "I don't usually enjoy waking up early, but for you, I'm more than willing to make an exception, cara." His hand, delicately, caressed your back pulling you closer to him, pressing your bodies closer. "And I wouldn't miss these precious early hours with you for anything in the world," he whispered, biting his lower lip.

He held your chin, tilting your head in his direction. Terzo's lips met yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a fervor that consumed you both. His lips danced upon yours, exploring every curve and contour with an intoxicating hunger, leaving nips on your lips. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Your mouths moved in perfect harmony, a synchronized dance of desire and longing. Lips parted, allowing tongues to intertwine in a passionate embrace. His hands roamed over your body, caressing your skin with feather-light touches.

He pulled back, taking a moment to admire the vision before him. Your eyes were closed, a slight smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breathing shallow.

"Sembri così bellissima in questo momento." He whispered against your lips, kissing them softly. He cupped your face in his hand, "ti amo, cara." His word sent shivers down your spine, causing goose bumps to appear in your body.

"I love... you too," you replied breathlessly.

His hand found its way from your back to your breast, kneading it through the thin material of your nightie. A gasp escaped your lips as he brushed his thumb over your nipple, hearing his mischievous giggle. His hand slid to your waist, reaching for your thighs, pulling your leg to rest on his waist, pressing you tightly against him. Your body arched into him as he pulled you closer, pressing his hardness against your core.

His lips collided again on yours, sliding his tongue between your lips, tasting the sweetness of your mouth. You moaned softly into his mouth as he sucked your tongue inside, licking it slowly, teasingly. His hand slid up under your nightie, pulling it higher, exposing your breasts to to the cool air. He lowered his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking gently, flicking his tongue across it. Your hips began to grind against him, grinding yourself against him.

His hand slid down your body, slipping beneath the fabric of your panties, caressing your wetness. "You're so wet for me..." Terzo's fingers explored your delicate folds, "I want you so bad..." he whispered in a voice filled with longing.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as he skillfully teased you, his fingers delicately tracing circles around your sensitive clit. The sensations overwhelmed you, causing your hips to instinctively grind against his hand, seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he offered. With a gentle glide, his fingers slipped inside you, effortlessly navigating your tight and wet depths.

His fingers moved in and out of you, pumping in and out of you, faster and faster. Your hips keep rocking against his hand, while you gasped as they plugged deeper into you, filling you completely. He thrust his fingers inside and out of you, matching the rhythm of your hips. As he felt your body begin to convulse, tightening around his fingers, he continues to pump them inside of you. Your moans grew louder, and your body tightened even more around his fingers.

"Please," you begged, "please take me... I need you inside me..."

He leaned forward kissing you passionately, moving in and out of you, keeping you on the edge. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the climax, your body shaking uncontrollably. He slowed his pace, wanting to make it last longer. Your body shook hard as he pulled out his fingers from inside of you, bringing then to his mouth, sucking them clean.

He let out a grunt, "you feel so good." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, biting down on his lips,"tastes so good." He opened his eyes again with a look of pure ecstasy.

He rolled over onto his back, pulling you with him. "I want you to ride me, mia cara. I want to see you fucking yourself on my cock." He said, looking at you with an almost evil smile.

You returned his smile, positioning yourself in anticipation. Your hands instinctively found their way to the waistband of his sweatpants, deftly pulling them down to his knees. As the fabric slid away, his throbbing member was unveiled. The sight made your heart skip a beat, of course you were already used to the view, but his thickness always looked like it would split you in two. You moved your hand up and down the shaft, feeling the heat emanating from it. You ran your tongue across your bottom lip, as you sat up, rubbing your wetness on his length, teasing him, moaning softly.

He grabbed your hips tightly, "are you going to tease me now?" he asked, his voice sounding like gravel.

"No," you replied. "I'm going to fuck you." You positioned yourself above his hardness, placing the tip of his member against your entrance, gently pushing against it, trying to get it into you.

He groaned loudly, "slowly," he instructed.

You felt it slide in just slightly, making you moan loudly. You push harder, leaving your walls stretching around him, as you felt him enter you. You tried to push yourself onto him, but he held you in the place.

"Don't move." He commanded. You nodded looking into his eyes.

He started thrusting himself into you, making sure that every inch of his length was inside of you. You closed your eyes enjoying the feeling of being filled completely, tightening around him. He began to pick up speed, your legs shaking under you. He reached and grab both of your breasts, squeezing them softly.

"Terz-Oh!" You screamed out. "So good! Fuck!"

"You like my cock?" he asked, his voice low.

A wordless affirmation escaped your lips as you nodded, your mouth slightly agape in a silent moan.

His movements intensified, slamming into you with an increased force. "Then, tell me how much you love my cock, cara," he urged.

His thrusts continued with a fervent rhythm, hitting that perfect spot inside you that ignited waves of pleasure. In a swift motion, he sat up on the bed, his grip on your hair becoming firmer as he pulled your head back, exposing the delicate curve of your neck. A surge of primal desire consumed him as he sank his teeth into your exposed flesh.

In the heat of the moment, pleasure coursing through your veins, you couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy. "I love your cock. It feels so good!"

He released his grip on your hair, his hand gently settling on your back, providing a sense of support and stability. "Brava ragazza! Cazzo! You're still so tight," he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and desire.

Sensing the need for restraint, he slowed his pace, his hand tenderly cupping your face. "You're not allowed to come just yet," he whispered, a teasing edge in his voice. "You must wait until I give you permission."

You nodded in agreement, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you both caught your breath. You started to move your hips, up and down on his length, feeling it slide in and out of you. He was still holding you on your back, you could feel with each move him getting harder inside of you. He didn't say anything, he kept looking into your eyes, watching you.

He pulled you off for a second, with a devilish smile on his lips. "Forgot how to talk, mia cara? You know I work with words."

You shake your head breathless. "Y- Yes!" you stammer, "your cock feels amazing inside of me."

"Does it, amore?" he pushed you down onto it again.

Your arched your back at the feeling of him moving inside of you, you could feel yourself getting wetter, you felt him start to push himself deeper inside of you, making you gasp. You could feel him going deeper and deeper inside of you.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" you moaned, biting your lip. "I'm so close, please don't stop!" You begged, grinding your hips in the same rhythm of his thrusts inside of you.

The more he thrust, the tighter your walls got around him. You were getting close to cumming. You could feel your juices flowing from within you to his member. It was almost too much, you were going to come any second now.

With a gentle motion, he withdrew from you, shifting his position to lie you down on the bed, your back resting against the soft sheets. Your legs automatically squeezed together, trembling, making you arch your back. The anticipation built as he positioned himself between your legs, spreading them apart with care and intention, creating a space for him to reenter you.

"Tell me what you want." He said running his hands on your inner thighs, causing you to shiver by his touch.

"I want to cum, Terzo. Please, make me cum, let me cum."

You rolled your eyes as he guided his shaft back into you, his grip on your waist tightened, establishing a firm connection. The rhythm of his thrusts quickened, filling you with an intensifying wave of pleasure. With each movement, he gazed down at you, a smile of satisfaction and desire playing on his lips.

Your legs wrapped around his body, pulling him closer. "You like that?" A deep growl escaped his lips as he maintained the pace, his eyes fixed on you with a mix of desire and admiration. "You look absolutely beautiful when I fuck you, cara," he murmured in a voice laced with passion.

You nod frantically, unable to speak. He starts to move faster, harder. His face contorts, his eyes closed. He leaned in closer, his lips finding one of your sensitive nipples, playfully biting down, causing a delightful mixture of pleasure and a gasp to escape your lips. Your hands instinctively grasped the pillow behind your head, holding on as his teeth found their way to your other nipple, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. The sensation made you squirm, a delightful blend of pleasure and desire enveloping you in an intoxicating embrace.

"Sì, cara, sì. Scream for me!" he whispered close to your ear. "Per l'amor di Satana, you feel so good."

His lips found yours, kissing you deeply. His tongue entered your mouth, dancing with yours. Your hands found their way to his chest, caressing his skin. He moaned, breaking away from your kiss. He kissed down your neck, moaning close to your ear.

"Cara, I'm going to cum soon," he whispered on your ear. "Cum for me, cum on my cock." One of his hands left your waist going to your clit, rubbing if fast.

You nod, your eyes glazed over with lust. You can feel his body tensing up, he's getting close. Your legs shaking with his touch, stimulating your clit on the same rhythm he pounds inside of you. You bite your lip, your breathing becoming shallow. You can feel your orgasm building up inside of you, biting your lips, you let your walls contracting hard around his shaft.

"Oh yes, please, please," you whispered, trying to hold back your climax.

"I love when you beg for me, mia cara." He whispered, sucking your earlobe, his hand still rubbing your clit. "Cum for me, cum for me now!" He commands, his voice growing louder.

You cry out, your body convulsing as he continued to rub your clit, making sure you lose control. You feel your orgasm rush over you, your muscles twitching around his length. He grunts, straightening up. His movements becoming erratic, letting your name escape his lips, he pulls out of you, his shaft covered in your juice. He starts to stroke his hardness fast, moaning loudly.

"I'm going to cum, amore, cazzo!" His voice, hoarse with desire, reverberated through the room as he reached his climax, releasing himself onto your belly. The echoes of his passionate moans filled the air.

Terzo fell onto you, his body pressing against yours. As his weight settled upon you, your hands instinctively found their way to his hair, fingers tangling within the locks. You held him close, weaving through his hair, the touch acted as a soothing caress, a tender gesture of affection that reflected the depth of your connection. As you caught your breath, the weight of Terzo's body against yours offered a comforting presence. The rise and fall of his chest matched your own.

As you gazed into each other's eyes, a knowing smile formed on your lips. He reached for the nearby sheets, pulling them over both of your bodies. Terzo's body gently rolled to the side, his arm encircling your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You nestled into the curve of his body, finding solace in his embrace. "I guess we can go back to sleep a little bit more before you have to go." You whispered.

His touch grew tender as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice laced with affection. "Sì, I guess you're right," he murmured. "Ti amo..." he whispered, closing his eyes.

With a smile on your lips, you nuzzled your face against his chest. "I love you too..." You closed your eyes, surrendering to the serenity of the moment. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against your head, lulled you into a state of peacefulness. With this moment of tenderness and love, you both surrendered to the sweet embrace of sleep.

Grammar ⸻

Bambina - Girl Cara - Dear No, grazie, amore mio - No, thank you, my love Sembri così bellissima in questo momento - You look so beautiful right now Ti amo - I love you Brava ragazza - Good girl Cazzo - Fuck Sì, cara, sì - Yes, dear, yes Per l'amor di Santana - For the love of Satan

#ghost fanfiction #ghost fic #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fic #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus x reader #terzo smut #terzo x y/n #terzo emeritus #terzo x reader #terzo #terzo headcanons #terzo fanfiction #papa emeritus iii #papa iii #papa emeritus #ghost the band #papa emeritus iii fanfiction #papa terzo #ghost terzo #papa emeritus 3 #papa emeritus smut #smut bellow the cut #smut #papa 3 #papa emeritus iii x female reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus the third #fluff

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Always a Good Time with Garibaldi

Named after the famous Italian revolutionary, the garibaldi (Hypsypops rubicundus), also known as the marine goldfish or the catalina goldfish, is a species of damselfish found throughout the northeastern Pacific Ocean, particularly in kelp forests and rocky reefs along the North American coasts from central California in the US to Baja, Mexico.

H. rubicundus can grow to be over 38 cm (15 in) in length, making them the largest member of the damselfish family. Juveniles are red with blue spots, while adults are a vivid, solid orange. This color is what gives the garibaldi fish its name; the Italian Giuseppe Garibaldi and his followers were known for their red or orange shirts. Because they’re so brightly colored, marine goldfish might seem like easy targets for potential predators. However, garibaldi males are actually highly aggressive and will attack anything that enters their territory. The juvenile markings are similarly bright to advertise that they’re not there to pick a fight with older males.

Though males guard their territory year-round, mating only occurs from March to July. Males construct nests about 30 cm (12 in) across, removing all vegetation except for red algae. They then swim around their nest, displaying their fins and making loud clucking and grinding vocalizations. If a female is impressed, she deposits up to eggs 15,000 eggs in the nest, and the male fertilizes them. He then guards the eggs from almost-- including the mother, who may try to eat them. However, he does make exceptions for other females, especially as they are more likely to chose nests which already contain eggs. About three weeks after being laid, the eggs hatch and the young disperse. It takes them about five or six years to reach maturity, and individuals can live between 10 to 12 years.

The marine goldfish’s size and aggression wards off most predators, but larger animals like sharks, seals, and sea lions will hunt them on occasion. Younger individuals are also often targeted by sea birds like pelicans. Garibaldis themselves consume invertebrates, particularly sponges tubeworms, and nudibranchs, as well as algae. Despite their territoriality, H. rubicundus has also been known to gather in groups higher up in the water column; this may be a time for males to familiarize and for females to scout out potential mates.

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Photos

The US National Parks Service

Claire Fackler

Evan Barba

#garibaldi #Pomacentridae #damselfish #Ray-Finned Fish #bony fish #fish #marine fauna #kelp forests #coasts #pacific ocean #animal facts #biology #zoology

[californiaboytoybilly]

Eye Candy - pt one

Steve and Robin move to a big city on the coast after Robin graduates from her college classes with a degree in the arts.

It’s an impulsive decision, like many of theirs are. The kids are leaving for college, they’ve been fired from their jobs- Steve publicly chewed out a customer who made a gross comment about Robin’s chest- and neither of them particularly want to keep staying in their childhood homes still in their early twenties.

So they pick a city, cram their combined belongings into a car, and spend the better part of a few days slowly driving across country.

It takes a while because Steve insists on stopping at multiple cheesy landmarks on the way, much to Robin’s theatric dismay.

But they get there and they settle in and they… love it. They find an industrial style apartment that they can see the water from- over a handful of other brick buildings, anyway- and get new jobs at a musical diner. Turns out they can both sing, and Steve looks great in his tiny red shorts and rollerblades.

They spend their mornings arguing over what shape is superior to cook batter in (Robin is team waffle, Steve is team pancake) and giggling over the celebrity gossip section like teen girls. More often than not, they end up crashing in Robin’s bed at night even though they have separate bedrooms. It’s wonderful.

But one night, they are so incredibly bored.

They get all dressed up just to pass the time, doing little model walks out to the living room, striking poses, taking goofy pictures to cover the walls in. The outfits turn out honestly kind of great and it feels like a waste not to go anywhere. So they do.

The original plan was to go to this queer club they found in their first week here, the entrance to which was. hidden inside the dry storage room of an Italian restaurant. However, they take a detour through the rich neighborhoods to ogle the stupidly big houses they couldn’t afford even with twenty pooled years of diner salary, making fun of the absurdly shaped topiaries and obnoxiously shiny cars that made Steve’s look like a junk heap.

That’s when they get a reckless idea.

One of the houses a little separate from the others is a mansion with music thrumming from inside and flashing colourful lights, with a guard dressed in all black standing at the front door.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

They blurted at the same time, slowing the car to a stop.

Minutes later, Steve strolled down the long, perfectly even paving stones set into the emerald lawn with an updated, adult version of his signature King Steve ‘I belong everywhere I show up’ face.

He was dressed in a loose silk shirt and dark wash jeans, hazel eyes rimmed in kohl and hair artfully messed on top of his head. Robin had caved into his suggestions earlier, dressed in an eggshell bustier- that she kept awkwardly adjusting where it dug into her side- and black slacks with gold buttons up the legs.

They don’t look underdressed for the place, at least.

Steve gets stopped by the guard almost immediately and asked for his name, and Robin starts to sweat. She’s ready to apologize and say they must have accidentally come to the wrong place.

But Steve just scoffs, hand on his hip, with a righteously offended look on his face. “Excuse me?” He asks, tone dripping false condescension. “Are you seriously asking who I am?”

The guard looks nervous, immediately shuffling with his papers presumably carrying the guest list. A vein throbs in his temple and he flits his gaze between Robin and Steve in their dressy clothes and the door behind him.

What kind of people were at this party that the guard was that nervous about not recognizing someone?

The guard glances subtly at the list again and Robin can see there are only two names not checked off the list.

“No, sir. Of course I recognize you…” The guard trails awkwardly as he lies, “trick of the light, couldn’t see your face before. Come on in, my apologies.”

He checks off both names on the list, without asking again.

That worked?

Robin gave Steve a baffled side eye as they entered the house, to which he simply shrugged.

“My mother always said to pretend I belonged anywhere I went with conviction. She said people would wittle out a spare chair for me with a spoon rather than admit they don’t know why I’m there.”

Robin snorted. “Rich people.”

Steve just barely resisted the urge to elbow her in the ribs. “At least if I was still rich, we wouldn’t have wrestled over the last banana this morning.”

But then he paused, eyes taking in the other scattered guests.

“Hey uh… is it just me or is everyone here-“

“Insanely hot?” Robin finished his sentence, sticking close to his side as she looked around. “Steve where the hell are we?”

Steve didn’t have an answer for her, scanning the crowd of ridiculously attractive people in expensive outfits, mingling and dancing to the music playing from a speaker he couldn’t find in the massive, open concept first floor.

He didn’t get long to try and figure it out, however.

A low, faintly amused voice chimed in from a few feet away. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” The mystery person answered Robin’s query as Steve spun to face them, pulse spiking.

“I certainly would remember a face like that, especially since I made the guest list. So my return question is… how did you get into my house?”

#billy antis dni #steve harrington #billy hargrove #eventual #harringrove #model!billy #model!heather #robin buckley #also eventual #buckleway #heather x robin #billy x steve #🌌 — a s t e r #🌌 — w r i t i n g #Eye Candy ficlet

[blubushie]

WAIT YOU ACTUALLY *ARE* FRENCH???

Yeah nah he was over there killing Germans lol

Technically he's my great-grandad? But we call him grandad/grandpa. My grandfather was Weenie (cause he was tall and thin "like an Oscar Meyer").

Actually my rifle's first scope was a German sniper scope my grandad scored off a German sniper in the Argonne in the Great War.

Weenie meanwhile was in Italy in WW2 fighting Italian socialists, my dad was in Vietnam and flunked out of sniper school (despite being the best shot in his class) cuz he got malaria and couldn't do his finals so instead they made him a grenadier and gave him an M79, my mum's dad was in Korea, my younger brother tried to enlist in the Coast Guard but he's built like a brick shithouse (hugging him feels like hugging a tree) and they were worried he'd sink or some shit lmao

Anyway no I'm not French thankfully. AM a weird combo of German/Italian/some other European bullshit though! Also 1/16th Mvskoke on my dad's side but 1/16 ain't shit and we don't have any connection to the Mvskoke Nation outside of stuff left over from my great-something grandmum (mostly jewellry and old photographs of her and my great-something grandad and their kids) so I just. Don't mention it ever cuz it's not relevant lmao

#blu whos

[beardedmrbean]

At least 60 migrants have died after a rubber dinghy ran into trouble in the Mediterranean Sea, according to survivors.

The 25 survivors were picked up by the Ocean Viking, a vessel operated by the humanitarian group SOS Méditerranée.

They told their rescuers that they had set off from Zawiya on the Libyan coast several days before being rescued.

The engine of the dinghy broke down after three days, leaving the boat adrift without food or water.

The survivors said that the victims included women and at least one child. They are believed to have died from dehydration and hunger, not drowning.

SOS Méditerranée said the Ocean Viking team had spotted the dinghy, which set off last Friday, with binoculars on Wednesday and had staged a medical evacuation in co-operation with Italian coast guards.

It said the survivors were "in very weak health condition" and were all under medical care.

Two of them, who were unconscious and in critical condition, had been flown to Sicily by helicopter for further treatment, the group added.

The remaining 23 are still on board the Ocean Viking, along with more than 200 other migrants who were rescued from two other boats.

The vessel is heading for the port of Ancona, about four days away, but the team has requested a closer port of safety.

"The people who were on the boat in distress, lost at sea for almost a week, went out of water and food very quickly, according to the survivors," said an SOS Méditerranée spokeswoman on board the ship.

"People died along the way. I met a man who lost his wife and one-and-a-half-year-old baby. The baby died the first day, the mother the fourth day. They were from Senegal and had been in Libya for more than two years."

The International Organisation for Migration (IOM) said last week that 2023 was the deadliest year for migrants since records began a decade ago, with at least 8,565 people dying on migration routes worldwide.

The UN agency said the figure was 20% up on the year before.

Its report found that the Mediterranean crossing continued to be the most dangerous journey, with at least 3,129 deaths and disappearances during 2023 - the highest toll since 2017.

#nunyas news

[kultofathena]

LK Chen – Yuan Mongolian Saber

Yuan Dynasty 1271-1368 was a time when China was a part of the bigger Mongolian Empire spanning from the eastern coast of China all the way to part of Europe today.  This is a time of international travel via land and sea, the time when the Italian traveler Marco Polio visited China and years later wrote about his adventures.  This a time when people from Eurasia and Arabic countries come to live, work and settle in China and their influence can be seen in this sword design dating to the time of the Yuan.  The Mongolian saber has the characteristics of Eurasian Steppes curved saber and was a milestone in Chinese weaponry where curved swords with characteristically saber like blades were introduced to the Chinese. The sword was ideal for quick strikes from mounted cavalrymen and well capable of inflicting deep cuts and slashes from horseback.

The blade of LK Chens informed and scholarly reproduction of this iconic sword is crafted from sharp and well tempered GB 60Si2MnA High Carbon Manganese Spring Steel. The long blade collar is crafted from iron, as are the guard and pommel. The grip is well-polished wood and the sword is sturdily mounted into the hilt with a peen on the pommel and some rivets. The sword is paired with a wood-core scabbard which is bound in faux black leather and completed with blackend brass fittings.

#Kult of Athena #KultOfAthena #New Item Wednesday #LK Chen #Yuan Mongolian Saber #sword #swords #Dao #weapon #weapons #blade #blades #Chinese Swords #Chinese Weapons #Asian Swords #Asian Weapons #Yuan Dynasty #13th century #14th century #Mongolian Empire #saber #GB 60Si2MnA High Carbon Manganese Spring Steel #Battle Ready

[ugisfeelings]

In an article for Collier’s Weekly entitled “Exclude Anarchist and Chinaman!” (1901), immigration chief Terence Powderly sought to assure the public of the government’s security procedures newly installed in the wake of President McKinley’s assassination by a U.S.born citizen of Polish descent. What is the link between the two banned categories of the article’s title? Though “the man who killed President McKinley was born, raised, educated and trained in the United States,” reassuringly, “the teachings which eventuated in the crime are not indigenous to the soil of America.” Similarly, “American and Chinese civilization are antagonistic; they cannot live and thrive and both survive on the same soil. One or the other must perish” (7). While Powderly’ s reasoning is uniformly circular in justifying their national exclusion on the basis of an assumed foreignness, the paired categories reflect a divergent articulation of ethnicity and politics. Powderly attributes the rise of anarchism in the United States to the southward tilt in European immigration—away from “hon-est, homeseeking Germans” (5) and toward troublesome Italians. His objection to Chinese immigration, on the other hand, rests on its posing an “appalling menace to American labor” (7). As twinned foreign perils, “anarchist” and “Chinaman” express different crimes against the republic—on e political, the other economic. To put it another way, the dependence of industrial profits on the exploitation of cheap immigrant labor was at the time rhetorically diversified into a political disturbance and a racial contamination. It is perhaps not surprising that, in being condensed into political versus economic terms, white ethnics should have gathered a reputation for being undocile workers and that Asians appeared incapable of political action.

Yet, in being jointly named, “anarchist” and “Chinaman” were strangely made to share an apparitional kinship. Powderly’s regime marked the vast expansion of immigration policing, and those labeled “anarchists” or “Asiatic” were the primary targets of increased official harassment. These subjects posed a particular visual challenge to border policing. Just as the “alien anarchist who presents himself for admission to our country at an immigration station on the coast or border” (Powderly, 5) was not too readily obvious, a new immigration apparatus of identification and classification began to be deployed on the claim that Chinese individuals were racially difficult to distinguish. Thus, when Powderly defends his measures as the only proper and effectual “guard against the invasion of this stealthy foe to lawfully constituted government and authority” (5), the point could equally well apply to anarchist s or Chinese.

The notion of the enemy alien who is ubiquitous and invisible is, on one level, the necessary illusion of any national security discourse and a function of its self-legitimation. On another level, “anarchist” and “Chinaman” are differently invisible: seldom were Chinese and anarchists mistaken for one another. Riis’s “man with the knife” remains unseen until his moment of attack, but one can always tell from the outset who is a “Chinaman.” The anarchist blends into the “mixed crowd” whose Slavic and Mediterranean character implied a spreading political radical-ism. The “Chinaman,” on the contrary, presents an obviously identifiable entity. He is not at all concealed in the crowd; his obtrusiveness has to do with the fact that he always comes as a crowd. The anarchist signifies the modern crowd’s riot potential; the Asiatic signifies its homogeneity. The Asiatic marks the crowd’s outward appearance; the anarchist marks its latent capability. (pp84-86)

Lye, Colleen. America’s Asia: Racial Form and American Literature, 1893-1945. Princeton University Press, 2009.

#qq #colleen lye #america's asia #asian racialization #hot girls read colleen lye! #qq's zotero

[calabria-mediterranea]

Calabria locals blame the government for migrant deaths

At least 67 migrants, including children, have died and more are feared missing after their boat sank in rough seas off southern Italy.

The vessel broke apart while trying to land near Crotone, in the southernmost region of the Italian peninsula, in Calabria, on February 26, 2023. Migrants from Afghanistan, Pakistan, Somalia and Iran were on board.

Babies were among the dead, Italian officials said.

Bodies were recovered from the beach at a nearby seaside resort in the Calabria region.

The coastguard said 80 people had been found alive, "including some who managed to reach the shore after the sinking".

The exact number of people who were on the boat, which had sailed from Turkey several days ago, is not clear.

Rescue workers told the AFP news agency that the vessel had been carrying "more than 200 people", which would mean more than 60 people unaccounted for.

Italian authorities are now facing scrutiny over their response to the tragic shipwreck near their shores, in which at least 67 people died. Local prosecutors say a lack of coordination may have contributed to the tragedy. But political anger is also growing.

Opposition leader Elly Schlein is demanding a thorough investigation to determine the timeline of the authorities' response, after the migrant boat was first seen on Saturday night.

Her request came after Matteo Piantedosi, Italy's Minister of Interior, said that the migrants should not have departed in the first place. "You shouldn't expose women and children to dangerous conditions," he insisted.

These words have caused outrage among the country's opposition parties, which called on him to resign.

"Your declarations have transformed victims into culprits," Schlein told Piantedosi during a parliamentary session. "Who are you to judge from the height of your privileges whether one should choose between death at sea and death in one's own country?"

In addition, Calabrian locals living next to the beach where the boat crashed are wondering why rescuers took so long to arrive when the boat was first spotted.

"The state knows when the migrant boats are coming and they let them arrive, but despite knowing this they didn't intervene," local resident Domenico told CGTN. "Now all those people had to die, all those children, the women."

"If I had seen them, I would have helped them," adds Francesco who lives in Botricello, a town nearby.

Meanwhile, Italy's coast guard blames the system used by the European border agency, Frontex. It says because Frontex didn't officially alert Italian rescuers, it meant their hands were tied in their response.

And while the search for the still missing migrants continues on the beaches of Calabria, protesters are hitting the streets in Rome demanding a change in Italy's approach to offshore rescue missions – and to migration as a whole.

#calabria #italy #italia #south italy #southern italy #migrants #immigrants #immigration #cutro #crotone #mediterranean #mediterranean sea #europe #giorgia meloni #piantedosi #elly schlein #ship #shipwreck #sinking #2023

[ironverseocs]

Who is your current muse, and who is their faceclaim/what do they look like? What is one item that you associate without fail to them? What is their favourite colour? Is there a song you associate with them? If not, what quote fits the best for them? What do they like doing in their spare time? How much spare time do they get? What one fact do you love about them, but might not have had the chance to share yet?

My current muse is Andrea "Andy" Pereira, an OC from the Parks & Rec fandom who is in a queerplatonic relationship with another one of my creations Stephen Sebastian Knope-Wyatt. (I know technically he's canonised as of the farewell season, but due to my interpretations and heavy cultivation of a personality and life-story for him, I consider him oc-status. If you will... a #Schrödinger'sOC, as I've come to dub these types of characters.)

Andy doesn't have a face claim currently, but she does have a pinterest board which includes a general visage close to the one I hold in my head. In terms of visuals, the closet I have come to finding an fc is Sophia Black-D'elia (image at bottom), but I'm not completely sold on her. For now, Andrea remains officially face-claim-less.

—

Several items make me think of her, such as big hiking backpacks or converse shoes paired with flannel, but I think the most 'Andy' object would be those white, tin mugs you take on camping trips for your morning coffee. Her favourite thing? Opening up the back of her offroading vehicle and screwing on the gas canister for her little JetBoil stove to make coffee at 5:30 am just so she can watch the sun rise with a hot drink in her hand. She started doing this long before she met Stephen, long before she even left South America.

—

Andy's favourite colour is the kind of orange you only see in a mountain sunset, somewhere where the air is so clear you cannot smell the industrialisation anymore. Somewhere where the water runs crystalline blue and the birds cross the sky without a flap in their wings, the smoothest soar. A place where no one knows; a sunset no one else will ever see. An orange so vibrant, it's fire without the burn. An orange she would never have seen in the smoggy, polluted city she grew up in.

—

Two songs I associate with Andy:

Some Italian Mountain - Sophie May

And I hate to admit it But I can't wait till October when I'm allowed to escape him And move my life to some Italian mountain Mmm mmm mmm mmm

Traffic in the Sky - Jack Johnson

It's enough to make me cry But that don't seem like it would make it feel better The answers could be found, we could learn from diggin' down But no one ever seems to be diggin'

—

In her spare time, she loves kicking back with a good book. While a solid majority of the time, you can find her pushing the boundary of human-recognised lands, she isn't above every now and again recollecting herself with a sit in and a good book, especially if she and Stephen find a good place to park their van on some West Coast desert land. Oh, with the sun shining down just right... after whipping out the camp stove to make a little noontime meal... She'll set up her canvas chair, take out her current read, and while away the rest of the daylight hours getting lost in the words.

—

Due to the nature of her living situation right now (aka: she lives a nomadic life in a van), she has a lot more spare time than most people do these days. That being said, she still has a job to ensure that she can afford this lifestyle. She (very strictly, might I add) makes sure her work doesn't go past 5pm, as she is very conscience of the line between "work" and "rest", guarding her free time with her life. Andy believes there is more to life than work. She believes, first and foremost, in experiences and living.

—

Not particularly a fact I love about them (although it's not like I hate the fact lolol) but a fact I'm proud of creating for her is about her origin town as it weaves its way into who her character is currently. She was raised on the cusp of poverty in a city where the streets were dingy and the air a polluted, breathing hazard. Growing up, she hated it and would often spend her afternoons picking up trash along the sidewalks of her neighbourhood. As soon as she was able to, Andy left home for wider, cleaner pastures (so to speak). She saved up money in a piggybank all her teen years to backpack in the Andes, which wasn't enough by far but that didn't stop her; with an old rucksack, a sleeping bag given to her by one of the climbers she met passing through her town one day, and plastic baggies of food and safety equipment and toiletries, she set off. The people she met along the trail, some of them became her friends, and one of them... became her best friend: Stephen Sebastian Knope-Wyatt. That was the first time he helped her out of a jam (after all, she was ill-prepared for backpacking despite her best efforts), and since, they've been helping each other since.

-

*Closest FC I've found for her: Sophia Black-D'elia

Forever tag: @arrthurpendragon @foxesandmagic @shrinkthisviolet @ochub @ocappreciation | if you'd like to be added, send me a dm or ask ✨💓✨

#ocappreciationtag #ocapp #ochub #allaboutocs #parks and rec #parks and recreation #oc: andy pereira #fd: parks and rec #fic: the finer things #[ ask games ] #type: ask games #type: headcanons #foxesandmagic #type: records #mine #thanks for the ask!! sorry it took so long to get up

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 24

1305 – France: Grand Master Jacques de Molay and over 500 Knights Templar recant their confessions of homosexual activities to which they had admitted under torture. King Phillip IV burned 54 of them soon after the false confessions. Philip had de Molay burned upon a scaffold on an island in the River Seine in front of Notre Dame de Paris in March, 1314. The sudden end of both the centuries-old order of Templars and the dramatic execution of its last leader turned Molay into a legendary figure.

1573 – French diplomat and law professor Hubert Languet wrote to Sir Philip Sidney, "My affection for you has entered my heart far more deeply than I have ever felt for anyone else, and it has so wholly taken possession there that it tries to rule alone."

1905 – Howard Hughes Jr. (d.1976) was a USA business magnate, investor, record-setting pilot, engineer, film director, and philanthropist, known during his lifetime as one of the most influential and financially successful individuals in the world. He first became prominent as a film producer, and then as an important figure in the aviation industry.

Later in life, he became known for his eccentric behavior and reclusive lifestyle—oddities that were caused in part by his worsening obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), chronic pain from a near-fatal plane crash, and increasing deafness.

Hughes dated many famous women, including Joan Crawford, Billie Dove, Faith Domergue, Bette Davis, Yvonne De Carlo, Ava Gardner, Olivia de Havilland, Katharine Hepburn, Hedy Lamarr, Ginger Rogers, Janet Leigh, Pat Sheehan, Mamie Van Doren and Gene Tierney. He also proposed to Joan Fontaine several times.However, a rumour persists that Hughes and another notorious womanizer Errol Flynn had a sexual relationship, with Flynn at the top man!

Robert Joffrey (rear) with Gerald Arpino

1930 – Robert Joffrey, born Abdullah Jaffa Bey Khan, (d.1988) was an American dancer, teacher, producer, choreographer, and co-founder of the Joffrey Ballet, known for his highly imaginative modern ballets. He was born Abdullah Jaffa Bey Khan in Seattle, Washington to an Afghan father and Italian mother.

As a teenager, Joffrey met 22-year-old Gerald Arpino, then serving in the Coast Guard. Arpino moved into the Joffrey home. From then on, the two were inseparable. They became best friends, artistic collaborators, and lovers.

Joffrey studied ballet and modern dance in New York City and made his debut in 1949 with the French choreographer Roland Petit and his Ballet de l'Opéra National de Paris. From 1950 to 1955, he taught at the New York High School for the Performing Arts, where he staged his earliest ballets. He founded the Joffrey Ballet School in New York City in 1954.

In 1954 he formed his own company, which premiered Le bal masqué (The Masked Ball, 1954; music by French composer Francis Poulenc) and Pierrot Lunaire (1955; music by Austrian composer Arnold Schoenberg). Joffrey's other works include Gamelan (1962) and Astarte (1967), which was set to rock music with special lighting and motion-picture effects.

The Robert Joffrey Ballet took up residence at New York City Center in 1966. In 1982 it moved its principal activities to Los Angeles, California and in 1995 to Chicago, Illinois. Noted for its experimental repertoire, the company was called the "Joffrey Ballet of Chicago" after its move but has since returned to being called simply the Joffrey Ballet. Besides Joffrey's works its repertoire includes many works by Gerald Arpino, Joffrey's long-time lover, co-director, and eventually artistic director emeritus until his 2008 death, and ballets commissioned by Joffrey from new choreographers as well as works by such established choreographers as George Balanchine, Alvin Ailey and Twyla Tharp.

Joffrey was sexually promiscuous but discreet. His pattern was to have Arpino at home for domestic stability, one principal romantic attachment, and numerous one-night stands.

In 1973, Joffrey fell in love with A. Aladar Marberger, a 26-year-old gay activist and manager of the Fischbach Gallery in New York. In the 1980s, both men contracted AIDS. While Marberger was outspoken about his illness, Joffrey remained silent. He was ashamed and wanted his obituary to say that he died of liver disease and asthma. Arpino agreed to his pleas, but the secret could not be maintained, as AIDS took a staggering toll on the dance world in general and on Joffrey's company in particular.

Robert Joffrey died of AIDS on March 25, 1988 in New York City. Aladar Marberger died eight months later.

1958 – Bob Smith (d.2018) was an American comedian and author. Smith, born in Buffalo, New York, was the first openly gay comedian to appear on The Tonight Show and the first openly gay comedian to have his own HBO half-hour comedy special. Smith, along with fellow comedians Jaffe Cohen and Danny McWilliams, formed the comedy troupe Funny Gay Males in 1988.

With Funny Gay Males, Smith is the co-author of Growing Up Gay: From Left Out to Coming Out (1995). Smith is also the author of two books of biographical essays. Openly Bob (1997) received a Lambda Literary Award for best humor book. Way to Go, Smith! (1999) was nominated for a 2000 Lambda Literary Award in the same category. Smith published his first novel, Selfish and Perverse, in 2007, and Remembrance of Things I Forgot in 2011. He published a new collection of essays, Treehab: Tales from My Natural Wild Life, in 2016. The essays cover a wide range of subjects including his career in stand-up, his love of nature, and his experience with ALS. He performed at the inaugural We're Funny That Way! comedy festival in 1997, and appeared in the festival's documentary film in 1998.

While taping a 2007 comedy special for Logo, Smith disclosed that he was suffering from a neurological disorder. He described his symptoms at that time as slurred speech, making him sound inebriated. In response to an August 2012 New York Times article on openly gay male stand-up comedians, Smith posted a comment stating he had ALS.

On February 2013, Smith gave a candid interview to Canada's Global News, where he elaborated about his condition. The article also revealed that Smith assisted with the conceiving of fellow LGBTQ comedian Elvira Kurt's children, who with Kurt reside in Canada, and that he was a direct descendant of Henry Smith, an early settler of Canada's Niagara Region for whom the Henry of Pelham Winery is named.

Bob Smith died on January 20, 2018 from Lou Gehrig’s Disease in his Manhattan, New York home at 59 years of age.

1971 – On this date the international singer and actor Ricky Martin was born. Born Enrique Martín Morales in San Juan, Puerto Rico, he is known to millions of fans by his stage name Ricky Martin, is a Puerto Rican pop singer and actor who achieved prominence, first as a member of the Latin boy band Menudo, then as a solo artist after 1991. During his career he has sold more than 60 million albums worldwide. He is the founder of Ricky Martín Foundation (in Spanish Fundación Ricky Martin) a non-profit charity organization.

Martin rose to fame as a member of the Latin American boy band Menudo, after which he became a solo artist in 1990. During forays into acting on Broadway ("Les Miserables") and soap operas (General Hospital) he released numerous albums of Spanish music, which sold millions of copies throughout Latin America and Europe. In 1995, Martin refocused on his music career through his third album, A Medio Vivir. With this album, Martin made a shift from formulaic hit ballads to a more risky fusion of music centered around traditional Latin sounds, with the hit "Maria", which epitomizes this new sound. "Maria" broke Martin into Europe through Spain. With the ballad "Te Extraño, Te Olvido, Te Amo", Martin began his expansion from Latin American and Spanish-speaking audiences to the European and Asian markets. He was chosen to sing the anthem of the 1998 FIFA World Cup, the famous hit "The Cup of Life"/"La Copa de la Vida", that reached number one on the charts in 60 countries.

He broke into the English-language market with his mega-selling hit single "Livin' la Vida Loca," which reached number one in many countries around the world, including the United States, the United Kingdom, Argentina, Australia, Brazil, France, Greece, India, Israel, Italy, Japan, Guatemala, Mexico, Russia, Turkey, and South Africa. He followed up with the hit "She's All I Ever Had" which peaked at #2 on The Billboard Hot 100. This album became one of the top-selling albums of 1999, and was certified 7 times platinum, selling over 22 million copies worldwide to date.

During the Livin' la Vida Loca era, Martin's personal life went under the microscope due to his large Gay following, and he was questioned about his sexual orientation. In December, 2000 during an interview in The Mirror, Martin was asked, '"So what about all these rumors?" "There's not a lot I can do about that," he said. "I guess these rumors were started by people who don't have a life, or perhaps it's because they want me to be like them and I'm not. I try not to pay attention to any of these allegations. I could have been married with kids for years or have 27 girlfriends, and if people still want to go around saying that I'm gay, they will."'

In August 2008, Martin became the father of twin boys, named Matteo and Valentino. The babies were delivered via gestational surrogacy.

On March of 2010, Martin publicly came out as Gay in a post on his official web site by stating, "Today is my day, this is my time, and this is my moment. These years in silence and reflection made me stronger and reminded me that acceptance has to come from within and that this kind of truth gives me the power to conquer emotions I didn't even know existed ... I am proud to say that I am a fortunate homosexual man. I am very blessed to be who I am."

"What will happen from now on? It doesn't matter. I can only focus on what's happening to me in this moment. The word 'happiness' takes on a new meaning for me as of today. It has been a very intense process. Every word that I write in this letter is born out of love, acceptance, detachment and real contentment. Writing this is a solid step towards my inner peace and vital part of my evolution."

In January 2018, Ricky Martin married his long-time partner artist Jwan Yosef.

Ricky and Jwan

2012 – The Serbian Parliament approves changes to the Penal Code to include sexual orientation and gender identity as protected classes when it comes to hate crimes.

2013 – Alan Turing considered the father of computer science, was a code-breaker who helped shorten WWII. Since he was gay, the British government offered him the choice of prison or chemical castration after he was convicted of gross indecency. He selected hormonal castration via estrogen. He died in 1954 of cyanide poisoning. In 2009, Prime Minister Gordon Brown made an official apology, and Queen Elizabeth II issued Turing a royal pardon on this day in 2013.

-

[mariacallous]

The Greek Coast Guard on Wednesday stated that at least 78 migrants have been found dead after a fishing boat was wrecked off Pylos, Peloponnese. So far, 104 migrants have been rescued.

A rescue operation took place in the early hours of the morning in international waters 47 nautical miles southwest of Pylos.

Italian authorities informed the Greek authorities about the boat, which was carrying a large number of migrants. The Greek media reported that about 400 people were on board. Other reports have put the number as high as 750.

The boat had been deported from Libya, bound for Italy. The migrants were not wearing life jackets.

The survivors have been taken to the port of Kalamata, in the Peloponnese, where a reception centre with first aid has been organized in collaboration with the General Secretariat of Civil Protection.

The fishing vessel was spotted on Tuesday by a EU border protection agency FRONTEX aerial vehicle and by two ships. A Greek boat sailed to the spot, while a helicopter took off at the same time.

In successive telephone calls to the fishing vessel, offering assistance, they received a negative response, stating the vessel’s desire to continue the voyage to Italy.

The boat later capsized and sank. Two patrol boats, a coast guard’s lifeboats, a frigate of the navy, seven ships sailing alongside, a helicopter of the navy, and an unnamed aerial vehicle are operating at the site of the investigations.

Six such shipwrecks with migrant victims have occurred in the first six months or so of 2023.

More than 70,000 refugees and migrants have arrived in Europe’s frontline countries this year, with the majority landing in Italy, according to UN data, the BBC reported Wednesday.

The European Court of Human Rights condemned Greece in July 2022 for violating the European Convention of Human Rights over the sinking of a migrant boat in 2014 in which 11 asylum seekers, among them eight children, lost their lives.

CNN journalist Christiane Amanpour asked Greek ex-PM Kyriakos Mitsotakis if he will order a full and independent investigation into a New York Times video allegedly showing Greek authorities illegally setting adrift some migrants in the Aegean. “I have already done so, Christiane. I take this incident very seriously. It is already being investigated by my government,” said Mitsotakis.

On 5 June, MEPs in the LIBE committee debated the situation in Greece with home affairs commissioner Ylva Johansson.

The European Union submitted an official request to Greece for an independent investigation into the pushbacks of refugees-immigrants after The New York Times video document.

[txemrn]

Pour Two Glasses

Chapter 2: "... the fear that I can't control this."

Need to catch up? Click Here!

Book: The Royal Romance (post series)

Word Count: 5385 (+/-)

Series Synopsis: In the midst of a violent political war, Queen Riley Rys’s life is dismantled overnight, forcing her to flee Cordonia to live in hiding as a commoner with a loyal, best friend

Series Song Inspo: “Pour Two Glasses” by the Movielife

Chapter Song Inspo: "A Place to Start" by Mike Shinoda

Series Warnings: angst; profanity; major character death; grief and mental health discussion; discussion of violence & war; alcohol use; NSFW material

AN: It's back! It's back! And this girl could not be any more excited! I love this story, and I hope you will join me in this adventure as Riley learns to live and love again after tragedy. HUGE Thanks to everyone that helped over the past year to help bring this story to life! To my beautiful writing sister-in-crime @kat-tia801: thank you for all of your encouragement in keeping me focused and for pre-reading! These characters and some plot points belong to our friend at Pixelberry.

AN2: Block quotes are not working for me. When there is a change of scenery, it will be indicated by a separation with (----------); if the scenery deals with a change in time, it will be labeled as such at the top of the scene (ex "present", "past", etc). If it is a flashback, that entire section will be italicized. I hope this helps.

~🖤~

Present

It has been almost two days since King Liam's aircraft was savagely shot down off the coast of Tunisia, approximately two-hundred twenty kilometers southwest of Malta.  Rescue efforts were made by both Tunisian and Italian officials, Cordonia joining them the next morning, but gravely, only remnants remained of the plane. The hope for peace appointed by the UNM now lays desolate, set adrift in the darkness of the sea.

Two days.

A mere forty-eight hours is literally all that stands between Drake Walker and seeing his childhood friend alive. 

Two fucking days. The heat from Liam’s body hasn't even had the chance to leave the silk lining of his overcoat; the echo of his laughter hasn't even had the chance to dissipate into the empty corridors of the palace. Their lifelong brotherhood hadn’t even had the chance to grow into their childhood dreams.

It never will.

Damnit, Drake grumbles to himself, kicking the wall in frustration with his steel-toe boot. I could’ve been there. I should’ve been there! I could’ve…Maybe I could’ve stopped it.

Or so Drake believes. 

After spending time serving as a make-shift protector and defender during Liam’s social season, Drake discovered his calling in law enforcement. He was accepted into The Academy, Cordonia’s prestigious training center, and quickly stood out as a candidate for the most elite honor: a capital guard.  Clearly bred for the role, he was the spitting image of his father, finding favor with his commanders and fellow officers.

As the conflict in Mali began to brew, Liam appointed his best friend to be his personal guard, the royal guard. He served on the front lines, protecting his king from imminent danger as they traveled stealthily across enemy lines.

But then tragedy struck back home in Texas for Drake when his mother suffered a massive heart attack. With a poor prognosis, Liam ordered for Drake to become Riley’s personal guard; it was safer, and he could get away quickly if Bianca took a turn for the worse.

But without his most skilled, most tactically prepared guard, was Liam safe? Sure, Bastien had been with the royal family for years; but, was he the best fit for this job, being by the king’s side in the midst of a war with an unreliably savage enemy?

He should’ve challenged Liam on his decision.

He should’ve fought Liam on his decision.

He should’ve been with Liam…

Blowing his limp, shaggy fringe out of his face, Drake glances down at his watch, wrinkling his nose. Damnit, didn’t they say three? He hates traveling down into the bellows of the palace, an intricate labyrinth of off-the-grid holding rooms. No one comes down here–not even natural sunlight dares to make an appearance in the eerie stone-wall enclosure.  The silence reverberates down the long hallways, leaving the painful sting of stillness, serving as a reminder that the only thing that lives down here is death. 

Slipping a cigarette from behind his ear into his mouth, Drake pulls a lighter from his well-worn back pocket, anxiously flicking for the fuse to ignite.

But he abruptly stops fidgeting, unable to light his smoke. His eyes fixate on the closed, metal door before him, something pulling him from his somber reality. The sudden hint of carefree giggles dance in the air, playfully galloping down the hallway. Suspended particles of dust collect under the fluorescent lighting, capturing his attention, shape-shifting into effervescent familiar figures of yester years.

Drake leans his shoulder against the cement block wall, crossing his arms against his chest. Overwhelmed by the memory playing before his eyes, the corner of his mouth curls, forgetting about the prickle of tears gathering quickly.

It's him–well, a much younger version of himself: a scrawny string bean-of-a-kid that thought growing his hair out would cover up his monkey-ears. But as Drake soaks in this flash from the past, his breath suddenly hitches as another child steps out from behind his kid-self: an eight-year-old Liam.

That fucking haircut, Drake titters to himself. Liam always looked like he was ready to litigate in a court of law. But, damnit, he was a good-looking kid. Smart kid with a tender heart. A part of Drake always felt like Liam was too good for him, but the young prince never treated the commoner otherwise. After their initial meeting, the two were inseparable, going on countless adventures around the palace, even daring to explore the hidden maze that laid underneath it all.

---------

Past

The young blond holds out his pretend sword, pointing down the main corridor. "Cmon, Drake! The new world is this way!"

Racing down the hallway like mighty Spanish conquistadors, a large steel door looms forward. Drake slows down his pace, walking towards a placard for the door. “Mm--Mort-- um, Mor-tary?" He tries to sound-out the word, his index finger tracing over the embossed letters. "Mort--mor-two-tary--?”

“Mortuary,” innocently corrected Liam. 

Drake tossed his head to the side, allowing his shaggy hair to swoop to the side of his cherub-cheeks. He reached for the doorknob.  “What’s a--a–mortuary--?”

Pretending to dance in a sword fight, the kid-prince nonchalantly answered. “It’s a place where they store a bunch of dead bodies--”

Drake freezes in shock, staring at his unconcerned friend.. “Nuh-uh!” he counters. “Dead bodies go into the ground. I’ve seen it--”

“But they come here first,” Liam puts down his imaginary sword, shifting his attention to the commoner. “Leo said that the drain your blood and guts and-and-and stuff--”

“Take that back, Li!” shrieks a nervous Drake, “that’s not true--!” 

But suddenly the young commoner was all alone. He quickly swivels around in a circle, first to the left. "Liam?" And then to the right. He tearfully calls to the silence. "Liam?"

“Where are you?”

-----------

Present

Liam…

Drake finds himself mouthing his best friend’s name as the memory vanishes into his heart, heated tears pouring down his rugged face.

It's been two days. 

Is he really gone?

A world without his royal companion sounds ridiculous, like a sick prank that someone is trying to pull. For the better portion of twenty-two years, they have been closer than brothers, facing adventures together with a lifetime ahead of them.

But a lifetime will never be long enough; Liam’s lifetime wasn’t long enough. 

The memories, the countless inside jokes, the late night talks and words of wisdom: how does it just stop? Love. Sex. Heartbreak: they became men together–hell, Liam became a fucking king, the fucking leader of an entire country, a world-renown ruler and peacekeeper for the UNM. 

And yet, he was still Liam. Down-to-earth. Humble. Wise.. The thought of never camping with him again… the thought of never sharing a scotch with him again… the thought of never catching Cordonia U game with him again…

Just the thought of never hearing his voice again…

Suddenly, the large steel door opens with a disgruntled rumble as indiscernible pleasantries are being made on the other side. A swirl of chilled air dances lightly with the stagnant humidity of the underground space. The abrupt smell of pungent chemicals and preservation fluid greet Drake's nostrils with an unpleasant sting. But, his cognac eyes attend fervently to the petite frame stumbling out of the room, clueless of direction, barren of the queen she once was.

Her once silky waves pull tight in a dull knot on the top of her head; the radiant rosy glow of her velveteen skin hides behind stark shadows, stained by tears. She begins her third day of wearing the same shamble of lackluster clothes: a pair of black leggings and an oversized, overly-blemished polo team sweatshirt. 

Trying to appear strong for her sake, Drake wipes away the rivers from his face before clearing his throat.  “Riley,” Drake whispers, taking a cautious step towards her. As if experiencing sound for the first time, a flash of comfort crosses her face as she looks in his direction. 

But seeing her husband’s best friend is all it took.  Her glistening, crystal blue eyes fill with a bottomless sea of tears, instantly spilling onto the tapestry of her swollen cheeks.  She tries to fix the corners of her mouth, but they refuse to hide the misery of her heart. Like a little girl lost in the dark, she clamps the heels of her hands over her eyes as her body trembles in fear.

Before a whimper can leave her lips, Drake catches her.  Her knees begin to buckle, her tiny frame collapsing against his sturdier one. 

He cautiously wraps his arms around Riley’s tiny physique, but the warmth radiating off of her body ignites the prickly hairs on the back of his neck. He quickly shifts his eyes, but the feel of her touch being so vulnerable, so dependent on him naturally causes Drake to tighten his embrace around her. Feeling the wails empty from her chest, he tenderly rests his chin amongst her careless tangles.

He breathes her in, taking in the moment as his eyes flutter shut.

And his heart opens to a promise he made.

----------

The UNESCO Awards 

Sunday Night, the Night Before Liam’s Assassination

As the jubilant night winds down, Drake finds himself alone amongst a sea of affluent faces. He’s grateful for the invitation for such a prestigious event. Being granted the night off from his royal guard duties, he was able to watch the award ceremony dedicated to his best friend; but now that Drake’s other noble friends are mingling with other privileged dignitaries, the commoner decided to take advantage of the inhouse open bar. 

Leaning against the polished wood, he finishes another whiskey on the rocks.  He knocks on the counter before twirling the glass back to the unamused bartender. He clears his throat, exposing the deep bass growl to his voice. “One more please, Enzo--”

“There he is!”

A startling slap to Drake’s shoulder knocks the wind out of him. He instinctively spins on his heel, fist retracted to throw a whale of a punch--that is, until he comes face-to-face with the man of the hour.

“Shit, Li!” Drake exhales into a light-hearted chuckle. He relaxes his clenched fist, bringing his hand to his chest in relief. “You scared me--”

“Ahh, sorry, old friend!” Liam titters, extending his hand to his guard. After a brief cordial handshake, the King of Cordonia pulled Drake into a mutually tight embrace. “The enchantment of the evening has habituated an exuberance in me--”

“‘Enchantment’? 'Habituated'?” Drake snickers, “the fuck, Li?” Drake raises an eyebrow, taking notice of the aeration of the sweet malt on the tall blond’s lips. “I think we better, um, habituate that exuberance into a seat.” He guides the slightly inebriated royal to a stool at the bar.

“Partake in another round with my top royal guard? What a splendid invitation--”

“Yeah, yeah, park it, Your Majesty,” Drake sternly directs, shoving the king into a chair. “Enzo, can we have--”

Liam interrupts, raising his hand, “Yes, you there! Enzo! My good man! Another single malt--”

Drake shakes his head at the bartender, mouthing the word ‘coffee’ while he acts like he is pouring from a carafe. He slides into the spot next to Liam, taking a pull from his own amber drink. But, the two tumble into silence, resting their elbows on the bar.

A mug with a piping hot dark roast is placed in front of the king; he offers a curtly smile in appreciation, but his face becomes pensive. His glassy eyes stare mindlessly at his restless hands.

“So,” Drake interjects the stagnant conversation, awkwardly combing his lengthy chestnut locks out of his eyes, “that was quite the acceptance speech earlier.”

“Yeah, well--” Liam’s words shrink into a small chuckle. He fidgets with his gold wedding band as he thinks about his public address dedicated to his wife. “She’s just--” He looks over his shoulder, his gaze scanning the crowd for his Riley. Her contagious laughter soars above the crowd as she carelessly dances with Bartie underneath the colorful strobes on the dance floor. The sight of his bride naturally seizes the breath in his chest; the joy of his mouth coaxes his dimples to appear. “She’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?”

Drake slowly nods, a corner of his mouth fighting not to curl. “Yeah.” Mindlessly sipping on his whiskey, Drake sighs quietly to himself, but internally, he’s screaming to every fiber of his being to stay focused on that damn drink.

But he flirts with his own temptation. 

Subtly, he glances at her, the divinity that is his best friend’s wife.

Damnit, Walker…

The commoner shoots his attention back to his tumbler, pretending not to notice Riley; but, the vibrancy of her dark espresso curls command his attention, forcing him into a double-take. The softness of her skin that rivals the radiant pink sands of Crete beckon for his touch. The wicked slopes of her blossomed curves taunt him; he craves to bathe in the depths of her ocean eyes. 

If only she had noticed him first…

“She really is,” Drake mumbles, over a crooked smile. He shakes his head as he turns back to his drink, shooting the remains quickly. 

Liam curiously looks around the bar as if looking for someone before zeroing on his best friend. “Where’s the curvy brunette?”

"Who?" Drake feigns ignorance before breaking into a guilty smile. He bashfully chuckles, looking at his watch. “I’m guessing at home. At least by now.”

“Whoa, Drake--” Liam’s face contorts with disappointment, “this is an exclusive red carpet gala, laden with reputable influencers and celebrities… and your date still left you?” After a moment of stone-cold silence, Liam can’t stifle his laughter any longer, blowing a raspberry with his pursed lips, cracking into a hefty chuckle. Liam gently blows on his hot beverage, taking a sip to regain composure. “So, what'd you do this time?”

“Well," Drake skittishly snickers, "I wasn’t exactly honest with her.” He folds his hands, bowing his head to stare at his twisting thumbs. “I didn’t tell her I was leaving.”

“You didn’t--” a bewildered look crosses Liam’s face before covering his mouth with his fingers. He leans in closer, his voice growing quiet, “you didn’t tell her about Texas?” Liam clicks his tongue against his cheek, shaking his head. “Drake, you’re leaving the damn country Wednesday–”

“I know, I just…” Drake’s words fail him as he anxiously combs his fingers through his thick hair, a guilty grin growing on his mouth.

“I’m just curious as to when you were going to tell her,” Liam stifles his own teasing expression, taking another sip of his coffee.

Drake tosses a single hand carelessly into the air as Enzo shimmies another two fingers of whiskey in his direction. “It’s not like she and I were exclusive…"

Liam scoffs into a snicker. “You were just exclusive to your bed,” Liam jests, quickly taking an obnoxious slurp from his coffee. 

A sudden ruddy flush crawls from under Drake’s beard as he hides himself into his beverage. Liam sets his mug on the bar, and turns towards his friend. He paints a knowing smile across his face, resting his elbow on the polished-wood, holding his cheek in his hand. After a few seconds of silence, the lifetime friends stumble into hearty belly laughs, Drake slapping Liam on the back while Liam pounds the bar with his fist.

“Goodness, old friend,” Liam catches his breath, “I’m going to miss you--” Liam suddenly becomes more serious, more sentimental.

“It won’t be forever--you know that. A few months? A year?” He shrugs his shoulders. “I just need to get Moma’s affairs in order, figure out what to do with all of that land, and then I’m coming back home.” Drake playfully pops the back of his hand into Liam’s shoulder. “Besides, you won't have time to miss me; you’re never here! You’re out there, saving the world--”

Liam bashfully smiles, bowing his head to hide it. “Yeah, but at least I felt at ease, knowing that Riley was in the care of my best man--” The king places his hand on the shoulder of an unsuspecting Drake. “--which is why I need to talk to you.”

Drake’s dark eyes shift curiously to Liam at the mention of Riley’s name. He licks a wayward bead of liquor from his lips; setting his glass tumbler down on the bar, he leans in closely to hear.

“Listen,” Liam starts, ”I am proud that we have an elite crew of trained guards. Those men and women protect Riley, me, our home, the Council, our international advisors and guests. Any one of them would die for me out of duty,” Liam stops, his baby blues piercing into Drake’s eyes. “But, not you.”

Drake’s eyes widen with offended confusion. “Okay--” he sarcastically snickers, “--um--”

“Drake, with you, it's not about duty. You would die for me out of heart. You would die for my queen because you love her. You love me.”  Liam pulls another sip from his coffee. “You can’t teach that kind of loyalty.” He smacks his tongue as he swallows the warm drink. “Which is why I have a favor for your consideration.” 

Drake scratches the back of his neck before running his hand across his mouth to hide his smile. Lowering his eyes in humility, he nods his head slowly.

“I know your plan was to leave Wednesday, but Riley--” a worried-look chisels across his face, “well, I’d feel more comfortable if you stayed until I got back.”

Drake’s head pops up, etched with concern. “Is she okay? What’s wrong--?”

“Yes, yes,” Liam reassures, lowering his voice. “We’re trying again. For a baby.”

Drakes raises his eyebrows in shock. “Oh, that’s…that’s fantastic, Li--”

Liam smiles, nodding in agreement before his face sets back into worry. “She’s doing more hormone therapy, and I think--” he interrupts his thought process, carefully choosing respectful words about his wife, “I think it’s affecting her more than she is willing to admit. And with me being away--” he sighs, rubbing his forehead, “I need someone--no!” The king slams his hand down on the bar. “I don’t need someone. I need you, Drake. I need you to make sure she’s looked after. Keep her company.”

“Shit, Li, I don’t know--”

“I know, I know,” he raises his hands in defense, “this is last minute. But, you will no doubt be fully compensated for your time. I can get you new train tickets and flights back home.”

Drake scratches his short, scraggly beard. “I don’t know. My mom isn’t doing too well on her own. She’s been counting down the days, y’know?”

“And I can pay for in-home care until you can arrive.” Liam sights hopefully. “Please, Drake? I know I’m asking a lot here,” Liam turns back to look at Riley; the sight of her cradling the Beaumont’s newborn baby while coloring with little Jane and Bartie sends an emotional sting to his eyes. “For my family?”

“Well--” Drake inhales deeply, a grin growing on his face. “I guess what’s a few more days?”

Liam stands, pulling Drake into a tight embrace. “I can’t thank you enough,” he whispers in his ear before clapping his back.  “We leave for Tunisia bright and early, so–” he snickers, “I better go collect my bride.” Liam waggles an eyebrow, clicking his tongue as he adjusts his jacket. He turns to walk away, but stops himself, turning back to his good friend one last time. “Oh, and Drake? Thank you, again, for watching over my family while I’m away.” 

----------

Present

Drake abruptly tumbles back into reality as Riley stirs in his arms, her painful cries of agony quieting with time.

"What–" she gasps for a drink of air, "--what am I going to do?" There's a terrified honesty in her tone, an innocent cry of helplessness. 

Watch over my family while I'm away…

Liam's last words resound again and again like an eerily broken record. The king's simple request would become his final dying wish that he entrusted to his life-long best friend. It was a simple task, one that Drake did on a regular basis, being Riley’s personal guard. 

But, for the last two days since the king’s death, those haunting words have taken on a new meaning. Suddenly watching over Riley meant more than just inspecting her correspondences, securing rooms, and escorting her around potential snares. Holding her broken body close to his chest, Drake realizes he now has to protect something even more precious: her heart, a grieving heart that has already been attacked in the worst way possible.

Drake tenderly removes the wayward strands from her downcast face, her large, captivating eyes looking to him for answers.  “I–I don’t know, Brooks,” he shakes his head, nervously gnawing on the inside of his lip.

Seeing the sadness in Drake’s dark eyes, Riley quickly looks away, wiping her nose with the soft elastic cuff of her sweatshirt.  She knows she isn’t the only devastated heart in the room. Though tragically forced into the role of ‘young widow’, Riley didn’t want to add to Drake’s misery.

“So,” she clears her throat, “do you know what’s next?” She casually takes a seat on a wooden bench, pulling a knee to her chest.

Drake shoves a hand into his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck with his other palm. “Um, I’d imagine we’re going to do what they called us down here to do,” he swallows thickly, “to see him–um, to identify him.”

Staring blankly at the door, Riley purses her lips together, nodding in understanding. A silence falls between them, each second feeling longer than the last one as they wait.

Drake quietly leans against the cement wall, ticking his jaw back forth. His vision is fixed aimlessly on the gray wall across from him, his eyes slowly beginning to drift shut–that is until an abrupt giggle interrupts the stillness.  He curiously looks over to Riley.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She clamps a hand over her mouth while a rosy flush crawls across the apples of her cheeks.

Drake waves her off, nodding in her direction–but the loud laughter breaks out again, only this time she can’t stop.

“I–I’m so sorry,” she falls into a fit, “I just–I just–” she squeals into her hands, her giggles growing louder as she turns herself away from Drake in embarrassment.

Remaining stunned at this new behavior, Drake cautiously takes a seat next to Riley as she continues her carefree snickers.  Watching her shoulders bounce naturally make him grin; however, he’s still not quite sure what the joke is.  But seeing her smile for just a moment was a nice reprieve from the past few days.

“It’s ridiculous, right?” She titters, trying to catch her breath.  She drops her voice into a deep tone, mimicking Drake. “What are we going to do next? Oh, just identify him.” She grips onto her aching abdomen, trying to control herself. “That’s just–that’s just so fucking ridiculous. Identifying his body?”  Her breath suddenly hitches in her chest, as her chin begins to tremble. 

“Brooks,” he reaches to place his hand on her shoulder, but she pulls away from him.

“No,” she closes her eyes, currents of tears dripping down her face.  She reaches into her sweatshirt pocket, and quickly pulls out a rolled-up biohazard bag. Wiping her nose again, she begins to open it up for her friend to see.  “When I was in there earlier to fill out paperwork, one of the specialists gave me a bag of his things–” her voice cracks, but she quickly recovers. “She said, ‘I thought you’d like to have this’.”  Riley empties out the bag, allowing the contents to fall into her delicate hand: Liam’s signet ring, his watch.

His wedding band.

Drake and Riley stare at the jewelry in reverence before Riley begins to chuckle.  “Why?” She shakes her head, “why the hell would I want these?” She forces out an unnatural, more sardonic giggle, her voice teetering on the edge of tears.  “They belong him–” her words fade into a gasp as she begins to cry.

Drake timidly puts his hand on her back to comfort her. “Riley, you’re going to want to have these things someday–”

“They belong to Liam, Drake!” She sobs, “And as long as they're here, as long as they’re in my hand, that means he isn’t wearing them, which means… which means…Oh God, I can’t…” 

Noticing her frantic breathing, Drake takes the jewelry from her fingers, quickly directing her trembling hands over her mouth. “Shhhh, breathe. Just breathe.” He endearingly rubs her back as she slowly inhales before gently exhaling, slowly gaining control of her breathing. 

Finally settled down, Riley gives a thankful look to her good friend. She reaches over to his hand, forcing his fist to open with Liam’s jewelry.  She grabs her husband’s gold wedding ring, mindlessly slipping the large band down her own ring finger, allowing the metals to clink.

“As long as they’re in my hand, Drake, that voice–that little voice of doubt in the back of my head that begs for me to believe that all of this isn’t true, that my husband… my Liam…” she shakes her head, dabbing her eyes dry. “That voice is silenced.  And this– all of this becomes real.” She sighs, a blush swirling up her neck. “You must think I’m crazy–”

“No,” Drake smiles kindly, “not at all. If there was a sliver of hope to be with the love of my life, I’d hold on to that chance as long as I could.”

Riley nods as she reopens the plastic bag. “Can you do me a favor, Drake? Can you hold onto his stuff? Just a little bit longer?”

“Of course.”

“I know,” her voice begins to quake. “I know the truth.  But, my heart…” she shrugs with an innocent smile, “my heart just isn’t ready yet.”  She hands Drake the bag. “This way, my heart still thinks there’s a chance.  I–I just want to dream a little bit longer.”

Drake nods, tucking the precious trinkets into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Your majesty? We’re ready for you.”

----------

Later that evening, Drake escorts an emotionally-drained Riley back to her living quarters.  Despite the place being more heavily monitored than usual by the royal guard, Drake and two other guards secure the area, ensuring that there are no breaches in her majesty’s safety. After hearing the boisterous ‘all clear’, the queen instantly retreats to her room for the night.

Drake slowly moseys alone down the long corridor to his temporarily-appointed queen’s guard room. Shrugging off his leather jacket and distressed denim, he hears a small clank against the floor. He stops for a moment, furrowing his brows to the strange sound. Slipping into his guard Academy sweats, he grabs the puddle of his jeans, and inspects the pockets one by one until finally he feels the rustle of plastic.

Shit, Liam’s watch and rings.

Drake pulls them out, and tenderly inspects the precious jewelry. Brushing his fingertips over the fine cuts of glass and metal, he thinks about the late king wearing these various charms–and it hits him; Riley was right. Having Liam’s possessions in the palm of his hand makes all of this painfully real.

Drake’s breath suddenly catches tightly in his chest. Shaking his head, he frantically places the pieces back in the bag, throwing the bag into an empty drawer. His eyes are stained crimson, his vision blurry. His lungs burn from his own incessant sobbing. He’s physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted from mourning his best friend, but Drake is no stranger to grief. He knows this is just the beginning of something that never ends.  

Drake changes into a snug white undershirt before heading to the game room which boasts a full bar for entertainment purposes.  Sifting through the liquor cabinet, he accidentally finds an unopened navy blue box with a large, silk bow on top accompanied with a small white card with wedding bells embossed on the front. 

‘Čestitamo, Liam i Riley!’ Drake reads the attached card out loud, the corner of his mouth curling.  He inspects the box further, suddenly realizing he was holding a Macallan Lalique 50 Year Old. He snickers, “Liam, you son of a bitch.”

Wasting no time, Drake finds himself slouched at the breakfast nook in the kitchen, nursing his third pour of the precious scotch. Suddenly, the grandfather clock in the grand foyer chimes midnight. Drake thoughtfully raises his glasses as if making a toast.

Another day down…

Drake downs the rest of the warming liquid. 

Only a lifetime to go…

"Can't sleep either?"

Drake abruptly spins on his stool towards the familiar, melodious voice. Dressed in leggings and one of Liam's pinstriped button-downs, she meanders to the refrigerator. "I'm sorry, Walker. I didn’t mean to scare you–”

"No, no–" Drake chuckles, jumping from his seat, joining Riley in the kitchen.  He casually leans over the cool granite island, resting on his crossed forearms. "Did you need something? Something to eat?" He nods to the liquor bottle. "A drink?"

Riley titters as she looks up from the opened refrigerator door. “I–I really…don’t know.” She smiles kindly at Drake, shrugging her shoulders innocently. “I guess I was hoping I’d figure it out… I don’t know, maybe I’d see something, or–or I’d find something…” she nervously snickers, fidgeting with the cuffs hanging past the length of her fingers. There's a brokenness in her stone-blue eyes that makes them shimmer like the sea before a storm. 

And it dawns on Drake. 

She needs Liam.

“C’mon,” he motions to Riley, pulling out a stool.

“Drake, I–”

“Trust me,” he smirks, patting his hand on the cushion of the seat.  

As Riley makes herself comfortable on the chair, Drake moseys around the kitchen, grabbing a few ingredients and spices from the pantry.  He collects the luxury whiskey along with a carton of milk from the refrigerator. With Riley curiously watching, he naturally begins combining all the ingredients into a sauce pan over a low heat. He adds a squeeze of raw honey and a generous pinch of cinnamon.  Before the milk has a chance to rise to a rolling boil, he pours the concoction into a mug, and then slides it over to Riley.

She peers into the cup, watching a beautiful, rustic star-shape spice flutter to the top.  “This is… a very beautiful-looking drink. But… what is it?”

Drake bashfully tosses a towel over his shoulder before leaning against the counter. “I really don’t know,” he chuckles, “it just made sense.”

“Wow,” Riley takes another sip, “this… this is delicious.”

Drake laughs, crossing his arms. “Don’t act so surprised–”

“--but I am!” She giggles along with him.  “Where did you learn this?”

“Moma,” Drake looks down at the cold tile beneath his feet, and offers a crooked smile. “Moma made it for us whenever we had trouble sleeping. Night before the first day of school… Before an exam…” he takes a deep breath, “...after Dad died.” Drake gives a thoughtful look to his already captivated audience. “It just, y'know? Made sense to me,” he shrugs, looking back to the ground.

Riley takes another long steady pull of the drink, the flavors bursting across her tongue while the aroma wraps her in an unexplainable comfort. “Walker?”

“Hrmm?” Drake glances through the layer of fallen wisps of hair, hanging in his face

“It does make sense,” Riley’s expression warms with appreciation. “Thank you…for sharing this–all of this with me.” Suddenly, a large yawn escapes as she quickly covers her mouth with the sleeve of Liam’s shirt, “Wow,” she chuckles, “this stuff really works.”

“Yeah, that would be your hoity-toity whiskey,” Drake snickers. “Moma would use whatever was on hand, often times using Dad’s old moonshine–”

“Moonshine?” Riley raises her eyebrows. “Wow. This explains so much,” she jests, sending them both into a much needed fit of laughter.

As Riley finishes her drink, Drake hastily cleans up his mess.  He tends to the stove before returning his ingredients to the pantry and refrigerator.  As he walks down the hallway to return the liquor, he stops and stares at his darkened room for a moment, remembering Liam’s hidden jewelry inside the drawer before looking back towards the area where Riley sat.

A mischievous grin creeps across his face as he hustles back to the kitchen.

“Y’know what? I’ve got an idea.”

~🖤~

TAGS: Please Please PLEASE let me know if I need to add/remove you!

PERMA

@alexabeta @ao719 @charlotteg234 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @foreverethereal123 @issabees @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @schnitzelbutterfingers @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam  

ALL TRR/TRH

@21-wishes @angelasscribbles @burnsoslow @gkittylove99 @iaminlovewithtrr @lovingchoices14 @motorcitymademadame @princessleac1 @rubiwalker

ANYTHING LIAM

@amandablink @bbrandy2002

POUR TWO GLASSES

@alyssalauren @twinkleallnight

#pour two glasses #the royal romance #liam rys #king liam #liam rys x riley brooks #liam x mc #trr liam #trr liam x mc #choices trr #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices trr fanfic #drake walker #trr drake

[iverna]

More news. New day, different boat.

To add some info, before people start appointing blame: it looks like the boat was badly-welded and capsised in strong winds and high waves. These boats are unfit for the purpose. They are usually trying to avoid notice. They are run by criminals under horrible conditions. If you put two and two together here, you've got all the ingredients for a shipwreck that's hard to find or even know about. It's atrocious.

And it's completely unfair to expect Italy, Greece, and Spain to handle this by themselves. They need more resources and more support. We need safe routes for people to seek asylum and tbh we need a better solution for economic migrants too. We need more co-operation between states. We need more political effort to end the conflicts and persecution that people are fleeing from, and to improve the economic situation in other countries so people can stay there. We need something better than relying on the coast guard, which was never set up for this purpose, to save every boat that breaks down or sinks. We need to put a stop to these boats being used at all (aka human trafficking) which imo means eliminating the need for it because just like you can't find and save every boat, you can't find and arrest every criminal. That's fighting symptoms, not the cause.

Contact your MEPs and/or other elected officials and tell them. If you're not in Europe, contact your politicians anyway, international pressure and support matters too. Spread awareness. Read up on it and become aware yourself. Support local refugee centres and initiatives. At the very least, stop trying to paint the situation in black and white. There are so many factors and facets to it, and maybe look at the basic facts and context and turn your brain on before shouting about it. This shouldn't be a once-off outcry for a few days when you can use it to virtue-signal and call other people racist. It isn't a once-off event, it's still happening and it's going to keep happening and everyone affected deserves better.

#migrant crisis #outrage without action is pointless

[trickster-archangel]

Anyway, in the last 24 hours, on the Italian island of Lampedusa arrived, supported by our Coast Guard, 18 boats for a total of 650 migrants saved. It's news from an hour ago, another boat with 40 people aboard (a toddler among them) sunk, and now they're trying to find the lost ones.

FYI.

#migrants #Italy