#parsons reserve

[s2z]

Sunshine, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. 2022-04-28 10:02:32 by stuart murdoch Via Flickr: The Brimbank council depot is nearby. it is situated in a park called Parsons Reserve. The silos at the back of the park feature often when I work outdoors in this area. The silos will eventually form another project and even a book in the future. One of several projects, that explore photography as evidence amongst other ideas. Blog | Tumblr | Twitter | Website | Instagram | Photography links | s2z digital garden | pixelfed.social | glass

#digital files #digital photograph #digital storytelling #sunshine #melbourne #victoria #australia #auspctagged:pc3020 #pc3020 #trove #sunshine:pc3020 #silos #parsons reserve #gums #gumtree #arborists #plants #park #cricket. pitch #footy oval #flickr

[pc3020]

2007-01-03 20:24:16 [From the archives]

In 2007 we were still undergoing the longest drought in recorded western settlement. Today in 2022, the park is green and has a lot more trees. The play equipment has been replaced as well.

#parsons reserve #sunshine #australia #victoria #melbourne #landscape #drought

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: Work is starting to get pretty busy again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You are left undisturbed for near a day after the news arrives. You should be grateful for the reprieve but you cannot find respite among your unease. 

Edith is gone, your world is splintered, yet this marriage must proceed. Not for your own sake, but for your family's. You expect your father wouldn't be content to have you return to his household. The only benefit to your sister's tragedy is that he was able to rid himself of you.

Doreen informs you that you are to ready for another lunch. You choose a gown of faded peach and a bonnet with a narrow rim and white ribbon. She helps you dress before leaving to look in on your mother.

You look in the mirror and wonder if maybe you were prettier your voice wouldn't matter so much. You pin the brooch with the blue bird just below your neckline. You pretend Edith is there with you, talking you through this. I believe in you, sissy, remember when you stole my cap back from that angry hog?

You wait to be called. You hate to presume or wait around where others might be disturbed by your presence. It isn't Doreen who comes but another servant, a broad steely-haired woman. She bids you out and you follow meekly, gaze straying to the golden frames and painted canvas.

The meal is hosted in the dining hall. A long ebony table with matching chairs. Each seat is upholstered with emerald velvet and capped with curlicued posts. You are shown to yours by Parson to the one reserved for you. 

Your mother sits with her tears hidden behind her fan, not so much as looking in your direction. Doreen stands at her shoulder and offers a handkerchief. You can only hear the reprimand she would issue should you be blubbering so.

You rise as the duke enters, but not alone. Your mother leans heavily on the way, gathering herself with several flaps of her fan. She snaps it shut and tucks it away as she raises her chin, shooing away Doreen.

“Lady Thea,” Laufeyson begins before addressing you, “my parents, the Grand Duke Odin and the Grand Duchess, Frigga.”

He steps aside as an older couple stand regally in the archway. The man is burly but stout, with dark grey hair streaked with white. His jaw is set squarely and there is a familiar blue tint to his eyes. The woman is tall and blond and fair, her figure untouched by her age and her hair so golden that the grey strands only seem to make her shine.

You recognise them. The portraits in the main hall. Even with some decades since the artist’s work, they are beyond compare to their pigmented likenesses. They are as elegant and resplendent as their son. It sinks a rotten pit in your chest. Perhaps, they might not want you either.

“We’re acquainted, Thea and I,” Frigga declares, “I believe your father might recall her.”

“Yes, Lady Thea,” he bows, “I know your husband better, I’m afraid.”

The duke has a pinched look to his lip as he listens with his chin high. He moves stiffly, gesturing to the table, “mm, yes, let us be seated–”

“Loki,” Frigga says as she slowly wades forward, her skirts rippling like water, “what about your brother? He received an invitation, didn’t he?”

“Mother, certainly he did, but he is ever… unpredictable,” Loki offers. It is jarring to think of him as anything but the duke. To think he is anything but the master of Jade Park.

“Lady Jane is with child,” Frigga counters, “it might take them some time.”

“Lady Frigga, Lord Odin,” your mother begins, “I cannot remark upon your son’s hospitality enough. He’s been a wonderful host, especially…” she pauses and turns her head, touching her cheek with a gloved hand.

“Oh, we were distraught to hear of Lady Edith. Such a tragedy. So young and beautiful.”

You stare at the wall. You try not to think of the statement laced between her words. You are young too but not so beautiful.

“And your younger daughter is endearing, that is a rather charming brooch,” she turns her green irises on you.

“Thank you, Lady Fwigga,” you hold your head high as you cling to a thread of dignity.

Her cheeks bulb and there is a slight tremor in her chin before she can answer, “oh, that is a peculiar accent, dear.”

You don’t know if you should thank her. You can’t tell if she holds any derision but you’d prefer she not mention it. It’s obvious, it needn’t be emphasized.

Your eyes skitter over to Odin who watches you with quiet consideration. He does not hold the same disapproval as your father but you can’t read much in his face.

“She is all I have left,” your mother bemoans, “two daughters. That’s all I got. How I wanted to give my husband his heir but… it was not to be and now…”

“Oh, Thea,” Frigga drawls, “if you are to fraught to remain–”

“No, no,” your mother expands her fan and pushes air into her face, dabbing her tears with her knuckle, “no, I’m so happy for our families to come together.”

“As are we. It is only sensible–”

She is interrupted by some furor at the other end of the house. A smile curls her lips as a booming voice fills the corridor like thunder. As your eyes drift towards the doorway, they meet Loki’s. He looks at you with a furrow between his brows before he shifts his gaze towards the clamour.

The men rise first. You get to your feet as Parson rushes in to announce the new arrival. As he introduces Lord Thor and Lady Jane, he is almost breathless. The couple appears behind him, the towering duke clapping the groom’s shoulder so he staggers. The duchess gives a pretty smile to the grand duchess as her hand rests on her rounding stomach.

“Oh, Jane,” Frigga sweeps across the chamber to embrace her daughter-in-law without pretense, “you are immaculate,” she pulls back and cradles her cheeks, “you look well.”

“Do I? I’ve been struck sick for days.”

“But it shall pass,” Frigga avows and beckons the duchess with her to the table, “Lady Jane, my first son’s wife.”

You bow your head and your mother does the same, taking the lead as you remain silent, “Lady Jane, a delight to… meet you. Oh, my apologies,” your mother fans herself more rapidly, “your eyes, they have the same shape as my dear Edith’s.”

“Edith?” Jane utters and looks at Frigga. The grand duchess leans over to whisper gently. “Oh, my condolences, Lady Thea, oh and such timing as this?” She turns to you, “a betrothal is supposed to be a joyous affair, I cannot bear to think how you are doing.”

You don’t know what to say, as often you find yourself lacking. Your lips tremble but you do your best to keep your composure.

“I will miss my sista vewy much,” you try to speak slow and clear, but it just sounds clumsy, “I didn’t know…” you see the flicker in her eyes, the dimple in her cheek, the judgment casting a shadow over her, “I didn’t know you and yaw husband would attend.”

Jane’s lips part and her brows rise as she looks at her mother-in-law. Frigga tries not to acknowledge the almost taunting expression. You can’t. You feel it throttling you. Just be quiet.

“How fetching,” Thor intones, surprising you as he comes to stand behind his mother and wife, chewing a biscuit he snatched from the tray.

“Fetching?” Jane scoffs.

“The way she speaks, yes? I think it is… interesting.”

“That hardly matters,” Frigga insists, “it is what one says, not how they say it.”

You clamp your lips together. You want to crumple to the floor and sob. You don’t want to be stood here like some jester to entertain these people. You want to go home and see your sister’s casket. You want to be near her, even if she’s not really there.

Again, you find Loki’s distasteful glare. His throat bobs and his lips thin even further.

“Yes, yes, let us sit and eat. My staff has worked the morning to prepare us a fine lunch,” he chides, “I’d hate to see it wasted.”

🔹

You stare at your untouched plate of cold meats and cheese. You’re not very hungry. Perhaps it is grief, or more likely it is shame. You want to shrink down to a morsel of dust and disappear.

There is an odd sort of skill acquired by those who are quiet. Observation. The ability to see so much, to take in every gesture, every twitch, every look with meaning. And you do not miss those errant gazes in your direction. Some with anticipation, others with dread, each waiting for you to say another twisted syllable.

Your mother fills the silence you refuse to break. She regales the table with the story of how she met your father on the promenade, how he trod on her skirts, and she hit him with her reticule. A tale you’ve heard anon.

She hiccups suddenly and cups her hand over her mouth. You turn to look at her as her wrinkles deepen and her gulps become sobs. She shakes her hand and waves her other. Doreen appears at her shoulder.

“My lady,” the servant says.

“Oh, Lady Thea,” Frigga dismisses the maid with a subtle flick of her fingers, “let us get you some air. It is such a lovely day, and I believe we do have some matters to attend to.” She helps your mother to her feet, hanging on to her elbow, “Lord Odin, you will accompany, in case she faints.”

Odin grunts. He hasn’t said much of anything. He seems more enamoured of this plate. As he stands, he stuffs a roll of sliced ham into his mouth. Chairs scrape as you stand to see them off. Doreen follows the older trio through the archway as they set off.

You resume your seat and watch the tablecloth. Your mother was of little assistance while present but without her, you are defenseless. Loki sips from his tea as Jane spears a slice of pear with her fork and Thor cracks a hard-boiled egg in his hand.

“So, I’ve not seen you before. You haven’t debuted?” Jane asks.

Your eyes flit up to hers. You almost don’t believe she’s talking to her. You’d been praying they’d forget you were there.

“My sista was ill and she is older so I was waiting until she went fast.”

“Fast? Went fast?” Jane repeats as she pretends to think, “went fast where?”

Loki sighs and sets his cup on the saucer with a harsh clink, “first. She meant first.”

“Oh, my, apologies, I’m afraid I have a bit of trouble understanding you. I don’t think I’ve heard any sort of affectation,” he smiles falls to something more sinister, “it is rather… garish.”

“Jane,” Thor says through a mouthful of egg, stopping himself to swallow, “she speaks clearly enough.”

“I’ve heard of physicians who can tend to that. They can teach you how to pronounce your words properly. Through repetition.” She enunciates each word, making sure to move her lips deliberately.

You fight a grimace. You swallow and look at your plate. It isn't the first time someone's made those comments, she will doubtful be the last. Just like those boys who used to call you 'widiculous' or 'wavishing'.

“Please, this doesn’t need to be a whole point of conversation,” Loki reproaches.

“I am only offering advice.”

“You are the one who spoke to her. None of us wanted to hear her.”

“Loki,” Thor says appalled, “she is to be your wife.”

“I was supposed to marry her sister. The normal one. The dead one.”

You flinch and let your shoulders slump. You bring your hands up and cover the brooch on your dress, as if holding Edith tight. Your lip pokes out as you fight a tide of grief that threatens to erupt.

“Aw, look, she is going to cry,” Jane taunts.

“Jane,” Thor’s voice hardens, “no more.”

Jane snaps her lips shut and rolls her beautiful hazel eyes. She pops the slice of sugared pear into her mouth behind her cruel smirk. Loki sneers at his fork as he twirls it in his hand. Thor gives you a glum look but it lands like a slap. He cannot relate to you, he can only pity you, and that is worse than contempt.

“If you are cuwious, Lady Jane, I have been to many physicians. They cannot help me,” you shrug, “just like they could not help my sista.”

Thor clucks and lets out a breath through his nostrils. Jane doesn’t falter, smiling as she chews, and Loki pushes himself to his feet. His chair threatens to topple as he swivels on his heel.

“I would see to our parents, make certain they are well and that this… contract is still in effect,” he takes rigid steps along the table, “I should hate to squander any more time in uncertainty.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #the sticking point #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor #jane foster #frigga #odin

[johnnyslittleanimalblog]

Cygnets by Pam Parsons Via Flickr: Lower Bruckland Reserve Devon

#cygnets #birds #swans #flickr

[sublieu]

𝐄𝐠𝐨 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭

cw. - threesome, biting, feral! Wukong vs feral! Macaque, rough sex, dacryphilia, hair pulling, choking, degradation, cumflation [at near end]

an.- ngl this gave me the shivers ty for helping me with this fic @mortal-mayhem . And yes I know it was for christmas but it's boxing day so technically this is christmas so shut up.

wc. - 2.3k words

ref. - ⚉ ⚆ ⚇

music. - playing dangerous/ little west

copyright.- “Words and quotes all belong to me, do not repost without permission” ©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐; 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

SIKEEEEEEE

cw. - limited space, ooc mk [?], major kissing, enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, business partners, getting caught [at the end]

wc. - 1.2k words

ref. - ⚉ ⚆ ⚇

music. - playing dangerous/ little west

mutuals. - @mortal-mayhem @yellowaxol @zmzsnakes

copyright.- “Words and quotes all belong to me, do not repost without permission” ©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐; 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

"You are by far the most insecure man I've ever met"

"Says the woman who acts like a child!"

"There they go arguing again." Tang sighs and takes a sip of mocha, already annoyed with how loud your arguments could get. And even if you guys couldn't stand each other, atleast go somewhere private to settle things.

Being a business partner with someone who shares very little to nothing in common with you was hard, even as a reserved parson yourself somehow this man has caused you to visit a therapist every 8 weeks. Mk and Redson decided it would be pretty nice to have you and Pigsy collaborate in the recent cook off wars. And it did work for so long.

So how come the same show the brought you two closer made you drift apart?

When Pigsy decided to insult your favorite chef, Patire Le Rouge you weren't gonna let him get away with it and insult Chang'e. Which now you were recalling it was a stupid move, but who does Pigsy think he is to insult your favorite chef. And since then, you two have been at war ever since; It nearly got physical hadn't Redson and Mk step in at some point to hold both you and the pink bastard back.

"Y'know what? I've had it with the two of you!!" Mk yells at the top of his lungs and threw a glass bottle on the floor, dropping his staff along the way as he pushes you both into the broom closet, not without hearing a few curse words from you two before locking it with the key.

"Until you two makeup like grown adults, none of you are leaving this closet!" Mk yells a final time and proceeds to walk upstairs with Mei and Tang following him as well until there was silence, for once.

"Just great, now you pissed him off!" "Me?! If it wasn't for your annoying ass we wouldn't have been in this situation!" You retort and push him into the brooms neatly lined up behind him before sitting down on the floor with him following after.

As time seems to move slowly, you look up and saw Pigsy take out a small flask, drinking the contents from it before throwing it to you. Which you take a swig of and immediately taste the strongness of the liquor.

"What kind of liquor is this?" "It's vodka, well it's a mix of 'Good Ol sailor' and 'Devil Springs'"

He responds and snickers at you spitting it out before giving him back. Pouty and upset about the fact he tried to give you hard liquor to drink, especially in a hot room as this.

The blue dim lit window in the room was the only form of light you both could use, stupidly leaving out your phones as Pigsy strums up more conversation; Cracking some jokes here and there to make the silence more comfortable.

Time flies by so slowly, only being 4 hours since Mk locked you both in this stuffy closet as you huddled closer to each other for warmth as early mornings tend to be the coldest times. With you two still giggling with each other like young teenagers.

Till you gave him a forehead kiss and cuddled ontop of his head, with Pigsy using your breasts as a pillow. Leaving him a flustered mess between the heat of your chest as you sighed softly.

"Y'know, I didn't mean anything when I said you acted like a child."

"Mm yea I know. I'm sorry about insulting Chang'e" "Me too, I didn't know you liked the guy so much" He replies and holds your hand, staring at your ring finger as you look at the shelves in the broom closet; Only comfortable silence alongside the occasional car passing by or two, when he asks for a request.

"Y'mind kissing me again?- I-i know if you probably don't wanna but please?"

He asks in a hushed tone, blushing at your laughter before you lift his chin with your finger and gifting him one more kiss on the lips. Which he gladly return with his tail wagging happily, his hands caressing your face as you share more kisses until you were taking of the other's clothes. Giggling like teenagers the sweeter your kisses got.

His claws gently took off your panties before tracing the slit. His pants having an obvious boner as his tongue messed with your clit, getting you lubed up before kissing it a final time and pull off his pants. Already pulsing and leaking with pre.

"I don't even have a condom-" "Leave it, we'll deal with it later"

You hushed and wrapped your legs around his waist, flustering him even more as he hides his face between your neck; Gently pushing it in as you held his hand, comforting him the deeper he went by kissing him and praising him for well he's taking it. Little whimpers escaped his lips tears fell to his chin, never feeling something as warm and snug as this.

Not wasting anymore time, he starts thrusting, his claws digging into your plump skin as he places a forehead on yours. Giggling when you shared another kiss with him; It could be the liquor talking or him actually showing you his true emotions, but you couldn't care less. As both of you were each other, happy and blissfully ignorant to the world.

Moans slip from your tongues as he thrusts harder, lifting you up and gently pressing your back against the shelves as ingredients fall to the floor. His tail wagging happily the deeper he thrusted.

Everything felt fuzzy, a ringing found itself to your ears as the sloppiness of his thrusting started to show. You even felt a tear slip from your face from how big he was inside, it didn't help the fact that he physically couldn't pull out if he tried; Not that you wanted him to.

His claws would put your legs around his neck, thrusting even harsher to leave a bruise. Everything felt warm and sticky, and it didn't help that you wanted to cum either; Your mind a hazy mess as his cock fucks you stupid.

Until he cums first, his claws digging deeper to leave a wound on your thighs as he stuffs your cunt full of his cum. He couldn't even speak the more he stuff you full, certain you were bound to get pregnant.

You both look back at the door, seeing Mk look at you both with an unreadable if not disgusted look as Tangs peeps from behind him before going back to finishing his noodles; Mei was no where to be found, presumably hanging out with Redson as you both try to pull away from each other. Now realizing you were stuck and there was no way to explain this.

©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐; 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

#lego monkie kid sun wukong #monkie kid sun wukong #sun wukong smut #sun wukong x reader #sun wukong #macaque lmk #sun wukong x macaque #monkie kid macaque #macaque x wukong #lmk macaque #six eared macaque #lmk x reader #lmk smut #lmk sun wukong #lego monkie kid x reader #lego macaque #lego monkie kid

[justlittleguysims]

Just a Bunch of Vintage Leftists - 1965

I don't need more OCs to keep track of, but these guys have been floating round my head for days now, and I need them out, so... here are some of Lidia's friends that I plan to feature in my Lidia and Séamus project. Look how dangerous and menacing they are, with their collectivism, their demands for equal rights, and their anti-war sentiments. The horror! The founding fathers are rolling in their graves.

From Left to Right: Bernadette Roberts, Theodore "Teddy" Parsons, Henrietta Bolton, Stanley Meadows, Todd Bradford

(Click for HQ and Character blurbs below the cut)

Bernadette Roberts

Bernadette is a fellow journalist student and friend of Lidia's, who she met at an outdoor music festival a few years back. Together, they have been documenting the daily activities of their local civil rights groups and have been working hard to share resources and educate the public about the cause. Although most of her life is currently revolving around politics, her true passion and goals for her journalism is music. She dreams of one day having a column for a music mag or maybe even a show on the radio where she can interview the greats and share interesting new records with the world. Hell, maybe she could have a television program one day. Just imagine, music on the TV, and it's not even segment on a variety show, it’s like, the entire show is just music... a crazy concept, I know.

Teddy Parsons

Working as the fry-cook at the local lunch counter, Teddy sort of fell into his role as an activist. It all started with him overhearing a few folks talking about different rallies and gatherings, as well as others discussing current events and philosophy while on their lunch breaks. The more of their conversations he overheard, the more he found himself wanting to join and help in whatever way he could. Strength in numbers and all that. So, he began attending their gatherings and reading the little pamphlets that were always being handed out, while making new acquaintances along the way, and now he never misses a meeting. He is determined that life will get better for everyone if they just keep on marching, but in the meantime, he'll keep packing sandwiches for everyone at the rallies. Just make sure you reserve a bag from him a day in advance. He needs to know how many sub rolls to buy, okay.

Henrietta Bolton

She may be a small, shy, church girl, but don't get it twisted now, Henrietta is one hell of a public speaker and public organizer. No one can give a pep talk or lead a group chant better than she can. Nobody here has walked more miles and has done more community work then her, and she does it all in kitten heels too. She helps organize tons of different events across Chicago, from food drives and pancake suppers to sit-in trainings, and if you ever need anything, like a ride to the next rally, or even a place to stay while joining a protest out of town, she is sure to know someone for the job. She's like a walking, talking rolodex of names and resources. Henrietta's middle name is practically praxis at this point. More people need to be like Henrietta, to be honest.

Stanley Meadows

Stanley is Bernadette's boyfriend and is also the first person Séamus befriends when he first came to town, then It’s through Stanley that Lidia ends up meeting Séamus... well, kinda. (Not getting into their meeting here.) Stanley and Bernadette go way back, they grew up on same apartment block, and often walked to school together with their mutual group of friends as kids, but they really only started dating when she invited him to see James Brown on tour over in Detroit on last year. And let’s just say, a lot can happen when you’re on a 4-hour van ride from Chicago to Detroit, and you’re not the ones driving. Now… Stanley only started out coming to Henriette’s weekly gathers to be with Bernadette, but now he's super into the community aspect of the movement. It gives a sense of purpose he didn’t really have before. He's constantly meeting new people, learning new things, and damn, the food at these functions is always pretty good, so you bet your ass he's going to be at this week's meet up too.

Todd Bradford

Okay, look, I've been digging through a lot of old protest photos while researching for this project, and one specific protester style "trope"—If you want to call it that— that I've observed is that of the nerdy, white, male, civil rights activist. Most of them are going to look something like this guy, Todd. Don't believe me, just look up a few photos. There's almost always at least one skinny, Buddy Holly looking ass dude standing around somewhere, and it’s turned into a game of “Where’s Waldo” for me, so I had to make myself one of these guys. Todd is just another journalist student friend of Lidia's. He's a bit awkward, and he totally sucks at hiding his crush on her, but he's otherwise a pretty upstanding guy. And he's always willing to shove a few cops that get a little too close to his fellow demonstrators. He's not here to preach, he's there to support and protect, and if that means buying a fifth pair of replacement glasses this year, then so be it.

If you’ve reached this point of the post, THANK YOU for reading and please feel free to drop an ask about any of these characters. I hope to have more updates in the coming weeks for you all. Please follow and yell at me to get shit done! Okay, thanks, BYE! 💜✨

Further Reading: OC Intros Pt. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 || Pizza Gang Pt. 1 | 2 | 3 || Family Intros Pt. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

#justlittleguy posting #1960 sims #ts4 cas #show us your sims #ts4 screenshots #historical sims #ts4 simblr #simblr #my ocs #ts4 male sims #my sims #project: lidia & séamus #lidia & séamus: the leftists #oc deets #my writing #lidia & séamus: bernadette #lidia & séamus: teddy #lidia & séamus: henrietta #lidia & séamus: stanley #lidia & séamus: todd

[missameliep]

Second Chances - Chapter Twenty Four: The Undeniable Truth

Book: Desire and Decorum – Modern AU 

Pairing: Prince Hamid x Elizabeth (OC)

Rating: M (see trigger warnings in the notes bellow)

Word count: ~12K

Summary: During the drinking games, truths will be revealed and hearts will be exposed, but some are not the ones everybody had been expecting...

Characters: Elizabeth Foredale (OC); Prince Hamid; Briar Daly; Edmund Marlcaster, Annabelle Parsons; Luke Harper; Theresa Sutton.

Notes: 

* All characters belong to Pixelberry, except OC.

* A huge thank you to @princess-geek for being my beta in this chapter and for all her support to my writing and this series.

* Non-English words translated at the notes in the end.

* Trigger warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of underage drinking and dialogues with sexual implied content.

* This is my submission to @choicesficwriterscreations fic of the week and @choicesmonthlychallenge (prompts - friends/holding hands/forehead kisses).

Elizabeth approached Edmund, held his arm, and signalled for him to lean closer. “Is it safe playing with Theresa?” she whispered, “Won’t she gossip about us later?”

“I suppose you never played a drinking game with Annabelle,” Edmund whispered back, and Elizabeth shook her head. She never played any sort of drinking game because getting drunk and sharing personal information are her least favourite pastimes.

“Theresa never lasts long in the game,” he explained, lowering his voice, “and she will be too smashed to remember anything tomorrow. Probably the rest of us too. So, your secrets will be safe.”

“I don’t have secrets!” was her immediate defensive response, but the pitch of her voice gave away the statement was far from the truth.

“Then you’ll have no problems playing Truth or Drink,” he said with the hint of satisfaction in his expression that only a sibling ready to see the other falling flat on their bottoms can express.

Releasing the grip on his arm, Elizabeth lagged, regretting not thoroughly thinking this through.

What was I thinking? This is such a bad idea! I’ll get drunk and embarrass myself. Or worse, Briar will tease me about Hamid, and I’ll be mortified.

Slipping something stupid or inappropriate or worse the truth was simply overwhelming.

“Aren’t you coming?” Edmund asked, holding the door open for her, and she threw her shoulders back trying to balance the weight of her worries about everything that could go wrong tonight.

On her way outside, she’s met by Briar’s stare, holding Hamid’s arm for support. “What’s wrong?”

Gnawing at one thumb’s nail, Elizabeth said, “I haven’t played this kind of game since school and there was no drinking involved...”

“Be brave and honour your ancestor, a woman who had premarital sex with a man who was not her fiancé and engaged in swordfight on her wedding day. Total badass!”

“Sword fighting? Impressive,” Hamid remarked, and Briar promised to lend him the journal after she finished it.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.” Leaning forward and adopting a conspiratorial tone, Briar said, “And if the truth it too ugly to handle, lie. Just like everybody else.”

“Excuse me?” Elizabeth’s brows raised in surprise. “What’s the point if you don’t say the truth?”

Both laughed at her reaction and Hamid offered his free arm so they could walk together.

After assembling large bags of crisps, a plate with mini-sandwiches, a bowl of popcorn, cans of soft drinks and the four wine bottles Edmund and Annabelle retrieved from the famous Edgewater’s cellar – wine good enough to not give them a headache tomorrow, but not the vintage and expensive kind that would be missed – and one bottle of scotch from Edmund’s personal reserve for his own pleasure, the group re-joined.

Edmund glanced at the silent corridor before closing the door of the elegant guestroom. The crackling of the fire and the drumming of the rain against the windows were muffled by the exciting conversations.

This room was not selected because of the delicate floral wallpaper or the inviting furniture, but due to its remoteness, in the wing reserved for summer guests. There was not the slightest chance of Lady Dominique bursting in unless she was actively searching for any of them, which was very unlikely, considering she left to a dinner party in one of the neighbouring estates. Despite living in these lands for the better part of her life, the lady had greatly complained about the inconvenience of the pouring rain when she stopped by at the game room to hear about the picnic, and a few of them stifled laughs at the resemblance of Elizabeth’s own displeasure with the weather at London on several occasions.

Except for Theresa who didn’t really care for contemporary music but liked Mariah Carey, everyone else engaged in a passionate debate about the perfect music for the evening, advocating for their favourite genres. Annabelle, for instance, suggested one of her playlists with progressive rock and all-female rock bands.

“You can’t dance to that?” Briar retorted, and Annabelle snorted pointing at Briar’s feet resting on an ottoman. “First, you can’t dance anyway. Second,” she made a dramatic pause and a song started blasting from her mobile, “how can anyone not feel like dancing to ‘Bad Reputation’?”

To form a consensus was almost impossible considering the variety of playlists and genres each one vouched for. After fifteen minutes of debating, Hamid’s diplomatic skills proved effective in solving the impasse, and he offered to create a collaborative playlist with songs from everyone’s favourite playlists, and peace reigned once more.

With the music playing in the background, their attention focused on moving the armchairs and placing throw-pillows over the plush rug to make room for everyone around the hardwood oval cocktail table, where two of the bottles of wine and seven low ball glasses had been settled. With Annabelle’s assistance, Briar accommodated herself first. Despite Theresa’s presence – which was emphasised by the incessant chatter about a range of subjects that her fiancé had little to no interest in listening to, leaving Hamid, the most empathetic of the group, stuck with her for the past several minutes –, Edmund looked intently, as if entranced by the scene, or considering if he should take a seat at the cushion on Briar’s other side.

As spectators of the drama unfolding, Elizabeth shared a knowing look with Hamid, and for a moment she considered walking to her stepbrother and smacking the back of his head to bring him back to his senses. However, resorting to violence was not necessary. Without being incited by any of the presents, Edmund turned around and picked a different cushion, one that wasn’t beside nor facing Briar, and Theresa followed suit, sitting beside him.

Annabelle’s thirst for drama would not be sate just yet, a hint of disappointment visible when a mischievous smile was erased from her lips.

From the remaining three cushions, Hamid deliberately picked the one in the middle, and with an inviting smile at Elizabeth, patted the cushion at his right, the one who would allow her to sit beside Briar as well – which the man certainly assumed could make the choice easier. Taking the cue, Luke sat at his left, between him and Edmund.

“Everyone knows the rules?” Annabelle asked.

“Can’t I just drink? I’m not interested in the secrets or whatever...”

“You know that’s not how it works, Marlcaster. Anyone who doesn’t participate can’t be here. So, in or out?”

“Out.” Picking the bottle of scotch, he started to get up, but Elizabeth jumped to her feet and pointed a finger at him, remembering the times they were kids and he sneaked away with his friends to play videogames, leaving a crying Harry behind for her to soothe.

“No, you don’t!” she said with a firmer and louder tone than everyone expected, including herself. When every pair of surprised eyes darted to her face, she blushed and took a second to muster an inexpressible small smile. “It will be fun,” she pushed lively words through her teeth, while trying to telepathically warn him: “You’re not dropping Theresa with us!”

Startled by the intimidating tone he hasn’t heard in years and narrowed green eyes staring him down, he hesitated for a second before changing his mind and sitting back down.

Theresa looked happy at his change of mind, and he actively ignored Annabelle’s muffled giggles.

“As our hostess, Liz should start!” Briar rapped on the table, drawing a drumming sound.

“Alright. Let me see... Never have I ever... broken a bone.”

Hamid, Annabelle, Edmund, and Luke sipped their glasses, and it was time for the next participant.

With a mischievous smile, Briar looked around, and said, “Never have I ever... ghosted someone.”

“How is that possible if we’re all alive?” Theresa asked out loud, and Luke huffed with laugh assuming it was a joke – which in fact was not. As Hamid explained the meaning of the word ghosting in this context, Annabelle, who had been targeted by the asker, drank the content of her glass. Luke and Edmund did the same, then a hesitant Elizabeth took a small sip of the red wine as subtle as possible, but not subtle enough to escape Briar’s hawk eyes.

“You ghosted someone?” she gasped.

Looking intently at the glass in her hand, Elizabeth mumbled, “Once. Long ago... It was… yeah… it was no big deal…”

“Really?” Briar’s voice and eyebrows raised. “You, Elizabeth Victoria Foredale, were absolutely fine ghosting someone who I assume fancied you?”

“That’s not my name!”

“Don’t change the subject!” Briar pointed a warning finger at her, trying to hold in a laugh.

Elizabeth sighed and gnawed at a cuticle, “Fine. I might have sent an anonymous gift basket from a fancy bakery… because I was feeling bad for him…”

“Now, I believe it.”

“I wish the girls who ghosted me would’ve been that nice…” Annabelle mused, “Carbs would make it easier having my ass dumped...”

“Unless they weren’t gluten free…” Briar chimed in.

“Good point. That would be the final blow.”

“Why not simply saying you were not interested?” Hamid inquired, not a hint of judgement in his tone, but her face was already burning with all the attention her honesty attracted – and a bit of shame for admitting it out loud in front of him.

“Poor social skills,” she sighed, understanding what Briar meant before. “Now can we move on?”

Annabelle was next and a playful smile curled her lips, while eyes full of mischief focused on her target. The question darted from her lips with intent. “Never have I ever kept a secret crush from people in this room.”

Edmund’s gaze flicked over to Annabelle, and his fingers encircled the glass, but he didn’t lift it; instead, he let his palms splay over the table, watching the others, to see if anybody was going to take a drink or point a finger at him.

After a moment of dwelling if her crush was indeed a secret or not, considering at least half of the presents were aware of it, Elizabeth also decided not to drink.

Resting her chin on her palm, Annabelle chewed on a crisp and muttered looking directly at Edmund, “I was expecting someone to drink…”

“I’m absolutely transparent,” Hamid said, “none of my crushes could ever be a secret.”

“Me too,” Briar piped in. “I’m an open book.”

“Then you must tell me,” Theresa pleaded, “I don’t know who your crush is!”

“Right now?” Briar gulped. “Zero crushes!”

“What about Woods?” Edmund threw the question and with an impassive expression resumed sipping his drink. The attention of the group flicked from him to Briar.

“I wouldn’t call it a crush... He’s a... friend.”

“Woods?” Theresa echoed the name, trying to figure out who they were talking about. “You mean the butler?”

“Yes, he’s a butler and the sweetest man I’ve ever met.”

“Doesn’t that mean you want to be more than friends?”

“I... It’s...” Briar stuttered, and Edmund looked away. While she tried to find a definitive answer, her cheeks reddened in an extraordinary occurrence. “I don’t, Theresa. What we have is perfect.”

Theresa flooded Briar with questions about Woods and her love life, but most remained answered.

“Let’s not dally. Theresa, I believe you’re next.”

“Never have I ever... hmmm...” Theresa fidgeted with the pendants of her bracelet while looking at Elizabeth. “Never have I ever… being arrested.”

Only Annabelle drank.

“Twice.” She raised two of her fingers, sating the curiosity of the others. “Protesting.”

Propping her arms over the table, Theresa leaned and tried to meet Elizabeth’s eye. “What about you, Eliza?”

“Me?” She pointed at herself. “What about me?”

“We’re amongst friends here…” she said in a honeyed tone, “Not even once? Not even for a tiny, teeny crime? Shoplifting, perhaps?”

Like a fish out of the water, Elizabeth’s mouth opened and closed without emitting any sound, and she considered how to reply to this questioning without being terribly rude, even though that was one of the occasions courtesies could be ignored. Before she decided, Briar laughed at the inquisitiveness, and blocked Theresa’s view of Elizabeth’s face. “What are you? A cop?”

Theresa laughed, but it was a nervous kind of laugh and not her regular one.

“No, of course not! I’m not investigating her… I mean… I’m being… nosy, like we ought to, right?” she stuttered and averted her gaze, making her words sound even more unconvincing. “That’s what makes it fun, isn’t it?”

There was no answer to the questions, only more chewing sounds before the game resumed.

“Your turn, Marlcaster,” Annabelle said and contemplated him for a second. “Why is your glass empty?”

The glass was pushed in her direction. “I need a refill.”

She poured more wine, filling the short glass to the rim. Edmund stared at the content of the glass as if expecting the Bordeaux to offer him a viable idea, until his blue eyes flicked to Annabelle, and a barely-there smile curled his lips.

“Never have I ever… gotten a tattoo.”

In a mix of complaining about being unjustly targeted in this game, and complimenting the fine wine, Annabelle drank first, followed by Luke and Elizabeth. Edmund’s jaw dropped at the sight of his stepsister drinking.

“You? You have a tattoo?”

“I actually have two,” Elizabeth said offering a proud smile.

His blue eyes widened, unblinking. “Lady grandmother will have a stroke if she ever finds out!”

“Since they’re very well concealed, she won’t find out, unless one of you tell her, which I hope you won’t.”

“I can testify they’re absolutely hidden from sight!” Hamid said causally, and the eyes of the one he was speaking about darted to his face.

“Dude!” Elizabeth exclaimed lifting both hands.

“I’m complimenting you for doing an outstanding job hiding them. I saw you on your bathing suit and there was no sign of tattoos. Not that I was checking for tattoos, but... Good job!” He raised his thumbs in approval, meanwhile, Edmund shook his head, muttered something unintelligible under his breath and gulped the content of his glass.

Chuckling, Annabelle interrupted the questions about the design of Elizabeth’s tattoos and the pleas to see them.

“Alright, we get it. Liz’s got tattoos and Hamid’s thirst... Luke you’re next.”

They played more rounds and soon emptied two bottles of wine and consumed half the food. The more Theresa drank, the less her questions seemed coherent with her early line of investigation on Elizabeth’s life and the more inclined she felt to ask about everyone else’s, for undisclosed reasons Hamid’s love life seemed to have piqued her interest the most.

It was safe to say that despite the sheer embarrassment of sharing details about her life, Elizabeth was enjoying herself. Perhaps it was the fact that by that point the alcohol had released part of her inhibitions, perhaps the laughter and funny stories her friends shared eased her. Even if the prospect of Edmund cracking under pressure seemed less likely to happen, she was content, but sleepy. Stretching her arms over her head, Elizabeth yawned, even though it was only a quarter after 10pm.

Edmund pulled the cork of the third bottle of wine, which fell to the floor and rolled, disappearing underneath the sofa.

Annabelle looked around holding one of the empty bottles, and declared, “I believe it’s time to change games. What do you think?”

“Definitely. We’re not really finding out anything interesting, except that Luke is a Potterhead.” Her words carried her disapproval, and he raised his hands to the air, correcting her, “I’m not. I told you: my ex was obsessed; I learned by osmosis…and most of it against my will. It’s not like I was going to comic-cons with her and cosplaying…”

“I bet you dressed as Harry at some point…” she giggled while pouring more wine on hers and Annabelle’s glasses.

He chuckled and averted his gaze.

“Ohmygod! You did it!”

Without looking at anybody, he licked his lips and answered quietly against the rim of the glass, “I certainly did, but it was definitely not for Halloween…”

His words stirred Briar’s curiosity, and she leaned forward, elbows on the table, completely focused on him and the information he was half-offering. She tried to meet his eyes, but he averted his gaze, while sipping his drink, and her mouth rounded when realization dawned on her.

“Roleplaying, Luke?” Briar cried, and he shrugged. “Naughty!”

After a few unanswered follow-up questions about his sex life, the nosy woman finally dropped the subject.

“We’ll play Truth or Drink. You know the drill. Whoever the bottle points at must answer the question or drink!” Annabelle announced wringing her hand.

“What about Hamid, he’s not really drinking...” Briar said grinning and pointing at the small glass filled with diet coke. “It won’t be fair to us.”

“Why aren’t you drinking? Is this a religious thing?” Theresa shot the question, and Edmund chided her.

Hamid waved his hand signalling it was okay, however Elizabeth glared at Theresa, finally showing irritation at the nosy woman inquires.

“You don’t need to answer that, Hamid,” she said softly to him.

“It’s alright, Liz,” he replied, resting a hand over the one of hers lying on her knee. “You guys want the long or short version?”

“Long!” Briar and Theresa cried in unison.

“I used to drink,” Hamid started.

After drinking the entire content of the small glass, he rolled his lips inside his mouth. When they rolled back out and parted in a wide grin, Elizabeth forced her eyes to focus on anything else, because she shouldn’t be staring at him or his lips like a cartoon hungry wolf.

“You must understand two things: the first one, Annem’s family is well-known in Türkiyefor being descendants of Ottoman Sultans and for its many politicians. They are ultratraditional and awfully strict when it comes to public opinion… And second, when I was eleven, my family moved back to Istanbul after living in Canberra, and our lives changed completely… suddenly there were journalists following me and my sisters around, trying to find any dirty on us to shame Dede[1] Emir and Dayı[2] Eren, and Annem’s constant surveillance… I couldn’t leave the house by myself, except to go to school… I felt trapped. –”

“A gilded cage is still a cage”, Elizabeth remembered the words he told her once, finally realizing its meaning.

“– Until my father was assigned to the embassy at Boston and we moved again. I was fifteen, starting high school and it was like someone released me from a cage. I was free and eager to experience everything possible before being sent back to Istanbul and facing the life planned for me... Moderation wasn’t an acceptable choice.”

“That sounds like a dangerous combination,” Luke pointed out.

“It was fun and liberating. For a while, at least…” he paused, and poured himself more diet coke. “Besides drinking quite frequently without my parents’ knowledge, I’ve done a couple of other things that could be considered dangerous and imprudent, like riding motorcycles, skydiving and hitchhiking a plane.”

“You did what?” Annabelle and Luke gasped at the same time.

“Haven’t I told you that story? This is one of my proudest accomplishments.” Hamid looked around for confirmation and met the astonished faces with a wide grin. “My friends and I were at this party at school and bored out of our minds. After we had drank all the vodka we snuck in, someone suggested going to the airport because ‘how fun would it be if we could hitchhike a plane!’”

In his narrative, he used the charming tone he adopts whenever telling one of his famous anecdotes; words and cadence carefully picked to entertain, like he did at dinner the night before. This time, Elizabeth caught his act, noticing the theatrical hand gestures and smiles when he talked about his friends, sons and daughters of politicians or diplomats like himself, and suspected he was purposedly trying to divert from the original subject without giving away his intention. Most of his stories are about other people, and the ones focused on himself, usually reinforce his charming and fun personality. Humorous self-deprecation is not to be expected from him.

Briar guessed, “I bet it was you who suggested that?”

“To this day, Lewis insists it was my idea, but I swear it was Amalia’s… she wanted to go to New York, I only suggested flying would be faster. Anyway… we went to the airport, and I sweet-talked one of the flight attendants to introduce me to someone in charge of flights… we happened to come at the perfect time... Two hours later we’re on a plane to New York.” Hamid added with an ear-to-ear grin, “Bono Vox’s private jet.”

“No way!”

“How did you even–?” Luke muttered, trying to figure out what to even ask, and Hamid shrugged his shoulders, with a too proud of a smile.

“I asked nicely.”

“Did you meet Bono?” Annabelle asked.

“Unfortunately, no. But I met someone from the crew, and she got us backstage passes to the shows at Chicago and Philly, and we met the band. My friend Melissa got to sing with Bono.”

“Who’s Bono?” Theresa asked, not holding her tongue anymore.

“U2’s lead singer. Songwriter. Activist,” Annabelle replied, sounding more offended by the ignorance with each word she mouthed without recognition.

“Sings old people’s music,” Briar whispered, and Theresa giggled, drawing an exasperated sigh from Annabelle.

The more Elizabeth learns about Hamid, the harder to believe that he could not find her tedious.

“The drinking,” Edmund said, more interested in the story than anything that happened in the game so far, “if it was so amazing, why did you quit?”

Hamid’s gaze flicked to him, and he tilted his head. “Who said it was amazing?”

“Cool friends, flying in musicians’ planes, concerts… you painted a very appealing picture.” Edmund gulped the scotch in his glass.

“I see your point… I realised I cared about the thrill and adventures, and I don’t need to drink to have any of those...”

“Sounds fake,” Briar murmured to him, “but okay.”

Laughing at Briar’s jest, Hamid added, “...and there were much tastier things to put in my mouth whatsoever.”

“Now I believe you!”

“Very mature,” Annabelle complimented. “Many people abstain. And not only for religious purposes. So, to even things out, if you’re all in favour, we’ll play a round of Truth or Dare exclusively with Hamid. Whenever you don’t want to answer, you need to submit to a dare of our choice!”

“Can we still drink?” Edmund asked, and Annabelle squinted her eyes at him, and he took that as a permission to drink an entire tumbler of scotch.

“I have nothing to hide. But maybe we should make it more interesting… If I answer all your questions, you’ll submit to a dare,” Hamid said, indicating the group of friends with a wave of his hand, Annabelle looked around searching for confirmation and offered her hand.

“Agreed, –” Annabelle shook hands with Hamid. “– But no dares involving leaving the country.”

“Sounds fair, but incredibly boring.”

Briar clapped her hands and pointed a finger at Elizabeth. “Lizzy, you ask first. Don’t disappoint Lady Clara!”

“Can we ask anything?” She looked at Hamid for confirmation.

“Anything.”

Hamid’s eyes, pools of dark and warmth, locked with hers, an invitation to his inner world. She held the power to ask anything from his past, present or future. Anything.

Elizabeth pondered if she should ask a question Hamid wouldn’t want to answer, which means no dare of his in the end, or one that he would in fact answer. The second option was much more tempting to her curious nature. The only issue was coming up with one unrelated to herself or the interrupted conversation of that afternoon – something incredibly hard to do with his thumb stroking the back of her hand this gently, like it was the single most important thing he had to do this evening.

She realized they were holding hands underneath the table and couldn’t help wondering when this became such a trivial occurrence and not the kind of event capable of causing a turmoil. Nevertheless, it felt absolutely right.

Overwhelmed by infinite choices and her own fears of exposing herself, instead of diving in, she decided on dipping her toes.

“What –” She paused, cleared her throat, and started over, “What do most people assume is true about you but in fact isn’t?”

Taking a deep breath, Hamid’s free hand raised to his hair, and his fingers combed it back twice. The unusual long silence made some consider he would ask for a dare instead, judging by the gloating expressions and meaningful looks shared.

“There’s a persistent belief that I’m a playboy who treats women as trophies… disregarding their feelings...” He shifted in his place uncomfortably, as if he were sitting over thorns. “But I am anything like that. I’m not... heartless... promiscuous… or incapable of having a serious relationship because I never had one. And I hope that is not what you think of me,” he said looking into her eye and she replied with a slight shake of her head, even if occasionally she wondered if the picture painted about him was an exaggeration or matched his true self.

“Good,” he whispered, and his lips parted into a wide grin that stole her breath.

That was a perfectly good answer, wasn’t it? Unproblematic. Romantic even, if she focused exclusively on the fact he was concerned about her opinion and not that they were surrounded by people and can’t carry on this conversation... However, before her musings went far, Briar shared her strong indignation.

“It’s bloody 2018! Your sex life – or mine or anyone else’s – should be nobody’s business,” she said looking around, searching for approval, and Theresa pursed her lips, not entirely sure if the criticism wasn’t about herself, who is an avid consumer of celebrity gossip in general.

“Some take pleasure speculating… and trying to label others’ behaviours...”

“And making money out of it,” Annabelle added. “Don’t forget there’s a whole business profiting from people’s private lives. Scandal sells tabloids – or these days gets the more clicks…”

“At Türkiye, my pictures have definitely enriched some newspapers’ owners, and brought shame to my family’s name...”

“Why? Being slutty doesn’t make you a bad person!”

“I wouldn’t refer to myself like that, but I agree,” he laughed. “To be honest, I don’t really care about what they write about me... But I know it’s a privilege of being a man from a wealthy family; things would be completely different if I were gay or a woman…”

“Or both,” Annabelle pointed out.

“I like a good gossip like the next person... but I really don’t get it. What’s the matter if you like it casual? Or one-night stands? If it’s consensual, it’s nobody’s business,” Briar concluded with fire in her eyes, “Judging people by number of partners or how frequently they shag is utter tosh!”

“Well said!” Annabelle clapped and Briar bowed with a little flourish of her hands. “Now that you got it all out of your chest, can we move on? It’s your turn to ask.”

In a second, Briar’s face changed completely. She flashed the widest and most mischievous grin at Hamid.

Taking a deep breath, her lungs filled with enough air to sing the chorus to Wannabe and Annabelle, Elizabeth and Luke laughed before snapping their fingers at the rhythm. Edmund and Theresa who weren’t present when Hamid told his sisters used to dress him up as one of the Spice Girls looked utterly lost.

When her nasal voice faded, Briar pushed an imaginary microphone in his direction. “Which Spice Girl, Hamid?”

Despite the smile, he shook his head slowly and muttered words under his breath that were not the answer; Elizabeth wondered if any of those were curse words, considering his preference to swear in languages other than English.

“Sporty.” The word was pushed through his smile while he failed to look unaffected by Briar’s victorious grin.

“I knew it!” Briar cried. “Now we need visuals!”

“Not happening.”

“Don’t be so confident, Lizzy can ask your sisters...”

“Supposing she in fact knows one of my sisters, she wouldn’t do that,” he replied not missing a beat, but the teasing words might have reached the intent when Elizabeth didn’t side with him immediately.

Stealing a sideway glance at her, he only got a shrug and a non-reply in the form of a small smile.

Sipping the wine, while he insisted on the subject and the fact his sisters and Elizabeth obviously don’t know each other, she giggled against the rim of the small glass. His reasoning and insistence amused her. For a change, she got the upper hand and would enjoy every second of this. Like this wine. Sipping it bit by bit.

“Maybe I didn’t have to ask...” Elizabeth said softly putting the empty glass down.

“And you didn’t tell them?” he taunted, referring to Annabelle and Briar who were enjoying this almost as much as her. “Impossible.”

“Are you calling me a gossip now?”

“Absolutely not. But I fear you’re trying to trick me into believing you have befriended my sister.”

“Sisters,” she corrected. “And last week your aunt and two of your cousins from Adana dropped me DMs too.” Shaking his head slowly, with a teasing smile with a hint of the tip of his tongue peeking, he leaned forward, his eyes searching for any hesitation.

“Show me your mobile.”

“You don’t believe my word?”

“Frankly, no. There’s no evidence supporting your allegations, Miss Foredale. I’m afraid the court will dismiss the case,” he taunted, using legal jargons learned from TV shows.

Perhaps it was the casual atmosphere or his long nose almost touching the tip of hers, the warmth of his breath or intense gaze unwavering from her eyes while he slowly retreated... Perhaps it was a combination of all the above. Whatever it was, it encouraged her to search in her foggy brain the perfect story to convince him of the seriousness of her allegations. She remembered one of the first anecdotes Faiza and Hande shared about their younger brother after he shared a picture of her sitting at the park after jogging with the hashtag #londonsmostbeautifulsmile.

“Then how do I know about the incident with your mother’s ring?”

In slow motion, the self-satisfied smile vanished from his lips and so did the glow of his skin. While his brain processed the information, the sides of his neck and cheeks turned a darker shade.

“Yok artık[3]!” he spat. “Who told you that? Was it Faiza?”

“Stop speaking in code!” Briar cut them off, “I want to know it too!”

“Me too!” Theresa and Annabelle piped in.

“Then you’ll have to ask Hamid.”

“Is it worth?” Annabelle who would be the next asker inquired, and Elizabeth shrugged dismissively, it was in her hands to decide, but judging by his reaction it could be a question to make him yield.

The other took a moment to consider if it was the sort of knowledge worthy of her question or not and debated with Briar in hushed tones.

“Such bigmouths!” he sighed running a hand through his face. “That story is so embarrassing!”

“It’s so not! It’s cute!” Elizabeth said, and he raised his head revealing a wide grin and his skin had darkened even more, a hint of redness reached the tips of his ears. “I can’t believe I made you blush!” Elizabeth laughed and fished a handful of crisps from the bowl.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugged. “I don’t blush.”

“I also thought you didn’t...” she said offering him the bowl. “But you do. And it’s adorable.” The tip of her index finger touched his face, and the skin of his cheek was as warm as his smile, confirming her assumption. His lips spread even further, and his cheeks rounded beneath her lingering touch, dimples forming on each side of his face and eyes squinting.

“My turn,” Annabelle announced, and his attention was drawn to her. “Have you ever had a sex dream with anyone in this room?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at him, and he smiled and answered quickly, no hesitation whatsoever, “Yes, I have.”

Excited cheers and teasing followed.

“Really? Who?” Briar inquired not holding her curiosity.

“That is another question,” he said, “and you already asked yours.”

“Was it me?” she pressed, “I know one can’t fake the kind of chemistry we had dancing last night, but I only see you as a friend. Please, keep me out of your dirty dreams.”

“Now you’re breaking my heart,” Hamid laughed it off, and soon the game moved on.

“Who would you rather date Donna Bowman or Felicity Holloway?” Theresa asked and leaned forward expectantly, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes not hiding the annoyance.

Hamid plastered his most alluring smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“They are both attractive women, each with a particular beauty. Making me choose one over the other seems absolutely unfair, don’t you agree?”

Hamid’s words were so convincing that pleased Theresa, who nodded. Briar however didn’t miss the opportunity to tease him.

“But that’s the point. You must choose or you’re not really answering the question... And if you don’t answer, it’s time for a dare, innit?” She looked at Annabelle for confirmation, and Hamid inhaled deeply and shook his head slowly.

“Donna.”

“Oooh! She’ll be so thrilled!”

“Did you roll your eyes again?” Hamid asked Elizabeth, who looked away, but realized he had been observing her reaction.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” she said focusing on the breadcrumbs she was picking from the table and throwing at an empty plate, keeping to herself how the mere mention of Felicity and her minion’s names bothered her. 

“Can she do that?” Briar asked pointing at Theresa, hands typing on her mobile underneath the table.

“Theresa, you know the rules! You can’t share the answers.”

“Alright,” she put the mobile away, but only after pressing ‘send’.

“Your turn, Marlcaster.”

“I didn’t think of a question.”

Briar raised her hand in the air as if she were in school. “I have an excellent one!”

“Me too,” Theresa said and whispered something in his ear, and he grimaced.

“I’m not asking that.”

“Please! I’m dying of curiosity!”

He downed the amber liquid, and said, “You can have my question…”

Showing gratitude, Theresa kissed his cheek and addressed the other man eagerly, “Hamid, if you could kiss anyone in the entire world, who would it be?”

Unlike the other question, this time, Hamid stole a furtive glance at Elizabeth, and smiled the kind of wide and open smile that dimples his cheeks and almost makes his face glow.

There were no introductory words, flattery, or praise to women either present or absent, just a simple and direct answer.

“Elizabeth.” Her name was softly spoken, rolling out of his tongue like a melody, and her heart skipped a beat.

The intensity of Hamid’s bright and intense eyes on her was unbearable. Allowing herself a moment to process this reply, she lowered her gaze.

The kissing part wasn’t that surprising – only a few hours before he said he wanted to kiss her –, but the fact that given any option he would still choose her over any model, movie star or a childhood crush was mind-blowing! And the boldness of being this frank without assurance whether her reaction would be? She could never! Even after drinking, she would never put herself on the spotlight to the judgement and opinions of others.

Her heart was pounding louder than ever, so loud she heard nothing from the room in a while, not acknowledging the chorus of Aww and Ooh and “Kiss him!”stirred by his answer or his sigh when her hand slipped away from his, not out of displeasure but to wipe the gelid sweat damping her palms on her jeans.

“I’m baffled you’d still choose her after what happened!” Theresa blurted out, and she received confused looks in return that encouraged her to explain the point. Her words flowed in that characteristic quick pace of hers, “Considering she broke up with you to be with Ernest Sinclaire, I thought you would pick anyone else, really… Unless you are trying to win her back... are you? In that case it would be so romantic!”

“O quê?[4]” Elizabeth gasped.

Amused, Hamid glanced at Elizabeth, whose cheeks haven’t had the chance to return to their natural tawny beige tone. “You broke up with me?”

“I didn’t break up with him!” she assured Theresa.

“You’re dating both!?” Theresa’s nasal voice raised to a shrieking level, and she covered her astonishment with a hand, before her fingers resumed typing on the mobile, ignoring the previous chiding about it.

Pretending to be offended, Briar tried to stifle a giggle and asked, “I am your English best friend, and you didn’t tell me any of this?”

“Halla halla! She didn’t even tell me and I’m the boyfriend!” Hamid sighed. “Since I was in the dark, I need time to process…” His hand covered most of his face, but Elizabeth could still see the grin he was hiding underneath.

The whole thing was hilarious to Hamid and some of the presents, who cackled; even Elizabeth cracked a little smile at his acting skills when he dramatically sobbed. However, Theresa who was completely in the dark misunderstood the heaving of Hamid’s chest with real crying and expressed profound sorrow – she is a notorious gossip but not a heartless woman.

“I’m awfully sorry. Mum is right, this is a flaw of mine: I always speak too much and without minding the consequences. But I didn’t know it was a secret! I swear! Donna showed me the pictures of you,” she said pointing at Hamid and Elizabeth, “and Felicity is always ranting about you and Mr. Sinclaire. She says she’s worried about him and not jealous at all; but believe me she’s so utterly jealous that you caught his eye! And with all the buzz online, I assumed everyone knew!”

Hamid uncovered his face, and asked, “Am I the last to know?”

“Stop with this nonsense!” Elizabeth said, poking Hamid’s arm. “Tell her the truth!”

“Why are you so eager in denying it?” Hamid asked raising his gaze to meet hers, despite the lilt of laughter and the grin that wrinkled the corners of his eyes, there was something vulnerable hinted in his question, “Is it that embarrassing that someone assumes we’re dating?”

“No, it’s not – I’m not – That’s not the point,” she stuttered. Raising one index finger to request a pause, she reached the wine glass and chugged it under Hamid’s attentive gaze. She blinked quickly in a failed attempt to unblurry his face, and he took pity on her.

“Fine. Theresa, your sources are incorrect: there was no breakup because we were not dating in the first place. Therefore, Elizabeth is free to date whoever she wants, including the dashing Mr. Sinclaire,” he said quickly and turned back to Elizabeth, “Satisfied?”

“Then you confirm she is dating Sinclaire!”

“You’re impossible!” Elizabeth shook her head slowly. “What am I to do with you?”

Hamid grinned, his cheeks dimpling even further. “I have plenty of suggestions...” he whispered into her ear, and the huff of his chuckle fanned her neck, causing all the hair in her body to stand on end.

“So, are you or are you not?” Theresa asked, too eager for an answer about the Sinclaire affair.

“Are you already tired of asking me questions? Am I boring you?” Hamid asked Theresa with a mocking pout, momentarily saving Elizabeth from further questions.

“Moving on,” Annabelle clapped. “Luke, your turn. Last question.”

“That’s right,” Hamid teased, wringing his hands, “only one question and then I can reveal my dare!”

“Don’t brag before you hear Luke’s question...”

“I don’t have anything to hide.”

“We need a great question, dude.”

“Don’t worry, Liz, I got an excellent one.” Luke grinned and leaned forward to face the other man. “Who was the person you thought about the last time you got off?”

Hamid’s eyes widened when his brain processed what he was being asked, and the cocky smile vanished from his face.

“Dare,” he said firmly.

“Are you sure?” Annabelle asked for confirmation, and when he nodded, Briar and Luke high-fived.

The group moved to the couch to confabulate, while Hamid remained quiet, chewing on some crisps. To ruffle his feathers, some of the words were deliberately spoken louder.

“Naked selfie...”

“Dick pic...”

“Unsolicited dick pics are not funny!” Annabelle chided.

Cheeks reddened by the alcohol, Theresa laughed loud, “I know someone who wouldn’t mind receiving one.”

“Me too,” Briar jumped in, and Elizabeth glared at her. “I didn’t name names. Yet.” Her guffaws joined Theresa’s.

Edmund’s eyes rolled and his gaze fixed at the ceiling, and it was hard to say whichever bothered him more about the women’s exchange.

The deliberations and goading continued without stirring the desired reaction until Briar whispered in his direction, “Shave his head.”

“No one is touching my hair!” Hamid objected firmly, holding a hand up, and Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief.

“Seriously? That’s where you draw the line?” she asked, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“I'm not ashamed of my body.” His intense gaze stole her words, and she sipped the wine to have something to do with herself.

“Easy there,” he warned, trying to take the bottle away from her.

“I’m half-British,” she slurred, barely mispronouncing the word, and spilling some of the wine when she evaded his move. “I can hold my drink.”

By this point, every tiny glass gulped made her speech more slurring, and her cheeks redder.

Luke raised from his place, and announced, “We dare you to stay outside for five minutes –”

“That’s easy. I lived at Moscow,” Hamid brushed off, but Briar cut in, “Shirtless! And doing jumping jacks!”

Undeterred by the increasing level of difficulty, he got up and pulled the orange jumper over his head and the white t-shirt in one movement, and asked Elizabeth to hold them.

Everyone followed when he marched to the balcony’s door, eager to see if he would go through. When he cracked the door open, a cold drift invaded the room and Edmund’s cheeks turned rosier. The rain had stopped but the floor was wet, and Hamid visibly shivered with the gust of wind, but brushed it off when asked by Elizabeth, throwing her a wink and a smug smile.

“What if he falls?” Elizabeth mumbled to Briar, who had wrapped an arm around hers for support. “The floor is wet.”

“Then you’ll take care of him,” Briar laughed. “Just look at the bright side. And at those abs.” She exaggeratedly bit her lower lip in a suggestive way, and Elizabeth looked away.  

Meanwhile, Annabelle snapped her fingers to get Theresa’s attention. “Your mobile, please,” she said extending one hand with her palm up. “You must quit texting Donna and you can’t send pictures of Hamid to her or else you are out.”

Theresa tried to deny it and argue, but the other was firm in making her abide by the rules, and lastly, she conceded.

“I’ll return to you later,” Annabelle said tucking the mobile into her trousers pocket.

When Hamid started the jumping jacks, the others cheered and clapped – but not Elizabeth. At first, she searched for any indication he was too cold outside or hiding the discomfort of an injury from the riding incident. However, the more she looked at him, the prouder he looked with the attention. The more she stared at his bare torso, the more her hungry eyes focused on his physique and the less her brain processed anything else.

Cradled by her arms, his t-shirt and soft jumper exuded Hamid’s favourite perfume, the sensual fragrance reserved to “special occasions”, an invitation to sinful thoughts. While on the one hand, every second slipping by in the timer Luke has set in his mobile was another one her willpower prevailed against the primal urge of burying her face on his clothes; on the other hand, it meant soon the challenge would be over.

Halfway through the dare, Hamid huffed a loud breath, almost a laugh, smiled and winked at her. She bit her lower lip, watching the wind blowing against his back, dishevelling his hair.

“Do you need a napkin?” Briar whispered and her eyes darted to her face in confusion. “To wipe the drool.” Elizabeth’s hand brushed her own mouth and chin, even though she was pretty sure the other was joking.

Luke’s mobile rang, and the dare was completed.

They waved him in, and Hamid kept the door wide open, allowing the wind to blow their hairs, while making a show of saying it was absolutely agreeable outside and inviting them to the balcony to breath the evening’s fresh air. When he finally came by to retrieve his clothes, all the soft black hair in his arms was standing on end, like it did that day when she held his arm to appreciate the luxuriant scent of his perfume.

“You’re cold.”

“Will you warm me up?” he asked in a soft voice only she could hear, and the rosy on her cheeks had nothing to do with the gust of wind this time.

With a sly smile, he took a long deep breath, and flexed his muscles to make his athletic body even more evident. Standing in front of him, Elizabeth’s gaze travelled downwards from his well-defined and hairless chest to the visible V-cut in his abdomen. Her reaction seemed to please him, and he took his sweet time putting on his t-shirt.

“You should’ve asked him to strip down to his underwear!” Theresa’s voice resonated and Edmund gasped her name, almost dropping his tumbler, and Briar cackled. “Oooh! Did I say that out loud?”

Briar replied, “Maybe next round!”

Both let out loud guffaws and clinked their glasses. Theresa downed the liquid and laughed a little more by herself.

“It seems I’m a little... tipsy already.” She said pulling her dishevelled hair back. “I’m going to –” A loud hiccup interrupted her, and she burst out laughing. “Are you coming?” her whispered question to her fiancé was too loud, and he replied he would stay.

“Good night!”

Her lips missed Edmund’s and she pecked his chin before walking away.

“Didn’t I tell you, Eliza?” Edmund asked looking at his stepsister.

The woman was rubbing Hamid’s hands, who looked too pleased at her fussing over him, and stared at him confused. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind.”

Annabelle growled, “How did we run out of food?”

“Well... we’ve been here for hours... and Briar,” Luke pointed at the friend beside him, turning a bowl upside down to eat the crumbs. Briar protested, but not so vehemently, since ate most of it.

Annabelle and Edmund volunteered to bring more food. While the others chatted, Elizabeth dozed off against Hamid’s shoulder. He encircled her with his arms, bringing her closer, and she sighed contently.

Several minutes later, Edmund and Annabelle returned with half of a Bundt cake, scones, bags of crisps and more wine.

Hamid observed Elizabeth repeatedly sticking her finger on the piece of cake in front of him and licking it, even though she said she wasn’t hungry. Ignoring her protests, he insisted and fed her half the slice and a handful of onion crisps. They smiled when he jokingly pulled the crisps away before she could bite it, and even more so when she bit his finger as a joke.

Spinning an empty bottle of wine, the game resumed. Encouraged by the intimate atmosphere that settled after Theresa’s departure, the questions became increasingly personal. And even Elizabeth showed less discomfort with the questions – though maybe she was a little too tipsy to understand everything her friends were talking about.

“I thought that only happened in porn!” Edmund exclaimed after Hamid replied affirmatively to the question if he was a member of the “Mile-High Club”.

“Sometimes, the desire is too high,” Hamid joked with a gleeful smile.

“How can one even... focus... on that… with the turbulence?” Elizabeth asked. “And people around? What if someone catches you?”

“I’m not going to lie, that’s part of the thrill.”

Laughing, Briar threw a crisp at Hamid. “We should send you to horny jail!”

The bottle spun and pointed to Elizabeth, who propped her chin on one hand and barely could keep both eyes open.

“What’s your biggest turn on?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, it’s easier to point out the things that turn her off like sloppy kisses, smokers’ breath, and manipulative men, but as for turn ons, does she really have one? She can only think of one person that turns her on lately. Hamid’s image occupied her mind, his strong arms, and the way a simple touch of his hand can almost make her combust. However, she wasn’t drunk enough to say this, so she settled on the much less controversial “Making me laugh.”

“You have a clown kink or something?” Briar teased, and Elizabeth laughed.

“No, but it is... just... being funny can be really attractive...”

After a few more questions, Anabelle spun the bottle and it pointed at Hamid again.

“Oral sex: receiving or giving?” she asked him.

“I won’t deny how good receiving is,” he paused and flashed a mischievous smile at the asker, “but I’m a giver. I may travel the world, but my favourite place is between a woman’s legs.”

His answer got him an enthusiastic cheer from Brian, who nudged Elizabeth with much too force, almost knocking the glass off her hand.

“Something else we can agree on,” Annabelle said raising her glass, and he clinked his in an improvised toast.

“A skilled tongue in more ways than we thought…” Elizabeth stated and giggled to herself, receiving amused looks from the others.

“You definitely drank too much,” Edmund said, placing the bottle out of her reach, and Hamid proceeded to gently remove the glass from her hand.

“No! I’m fine!” She retrieved it and gulped the remaining deep red liquid with a grimace. “The room stopped spinning a while ago.”

The others shared knowing looks, and Annabelle proposed, “Last question! Everybody answers! If the world was ending tomorrow, and this was your last night on earth, what would you do?”

“Time to get naughty!” Briar clapped her hands.

“Not necessarily,” Annabelle said, “It doesn’t have to be sexual.”

“But I want to get naughty!” Briar laughed loudly. “I’d spend my last night doing all the naughty things I’ve postponed. And, of course, I’d call my mom and tell her that I love her.”

“With that mouth?” Annabelle teased, “You should call her first!”

Loud laughter and jokes followed. However, Elizabeth couldn’t understand what they were saying. Eyelids incredibly heavy, it became a herculean task to keep them open. She let her head rest against Hamid’s shoulder again. A welcoming warmth surrounded her. Through her lashes, she saw Hamid’s arm holding her steady.

Why was I afraid before?

She blinked and their faces blurred, becoming indistinct like the unfamiliar faces of passengers when the tube is rushing past the stations. Briar addressed her, but it felt like she had been speaking through the thickest of glasses. Someone called her name, and she raised her head, searching the voice.

“What about you, Liz?” Hamid asked softly, touching the side of her face, “The world is ending tomorrow, what would you do tonight?”

Last night on Earth. There’s much to do, even more to say. Where to even begin?

“Maybe with what you want the most?” Hamid offered, and her eyes flicked to his, so adoringly staring at her. Can he read my mind, or did I say it out loud?

Her lips rolled inside her mouth, and her speech had turned much slower and broken than usual, “Alright… Let’s see… I’d tell... father I love him… and am grateful to be his daughter. And I’d do this: surround myself with people I care about... like I am now –”

Briar hugged her with one arm, and Annabelle formed a heart with her fingers, and when Edmund started talking, she cut him off with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not done,” she said, and her voice was a little louder and more slurred, “Before the world ends, I’ll call Professor Richards and tell him to go fuck himself and stick those bloody books up his bloody arse that bloody bastard –”

“Whoa! You can swear!” Hamid’s eyes widened and he laughed, drawing her attention back to him.

“You! I’d tell you that –” She buried her face on Hamid’s chest, mumbling a string of unintelligible words against his orange jumper, before taking a deep breath and looking him in the eye – or at least trying to – with a wide smile. “You smell good and have a cute belly.”

“Sorry? What did you say?”

“I like your belly. It’s wavy.”

“No, no, no! Before that!”

Ignoring his pleas, she turned around, returning to the previous train of thought.

“I want to make a bonfire. Huge.” She opened her arms to the fullest and gesticulated, accidentally hitting Hamid’s forehead with one hand. “With all Richards books I could find at the library and bookshops too. Then I’d make a bonfire in front of his house. A massive one!” She gesticulated widely again and made whooshing sounds to represent the fire.

“Liz, that would take time and sounds exhausting, go back to the loving part. That’s where you should focus your energy,” Hamid suggested, opening his arms to an inviting hug. “Surround yourself with love.”

“I can help!” Briar chimed in, and Elizabeth turned around to face her. Hamid’s exasperated sigh could be heard on the other side of the room. “I know where to get a cart!”

“A cart. That’s perfect!”

“Right? The two of us, Lizzy,” – Briar’s hands danced between the two of them – “unstoppable. Our bonfire will put Guy Fawkes’ night to shame! We burn the books and toast marshmallows!”

“I love marshmallows! Oh! You’re the best,” Elizabeth moved closer, and they hugged each other. “I love you!”

“I love you too!”

“Jealous?” Annabelle whispered to Hamid, and he clicked his tongue.

“I’d rather hear a non-drunk confession,” he whispered back, “one she would remember later.”

“Wise,” she said and patted his shoulder.

The clock on the wall marked a quarter past 1am when the first chords of “Happier” blasted from Hamid’s mobile.

Elizabeth shrugged out of the knee-length yellow cardigan, oblivious to the disaster that followed its descent. It knocked down a glass and red wine spilled pooling over the surface of the table. Raising to her feet to dance with Annabelle and Luke, she managed so much as to stumble, bump one knee on the table, swear like a polite eight-year-old and fall back down.

“You’re sloshed,” Briar laughed, while placing napkins over the spilled drink.

“I’m not,” Elizabeth denied, though the way the room swayed betrayed her statement. “Maybe a bit tipsy... I just need to lie down for a sex... Sec!” They cackled at the slip up and Elizabeth lied down on the floor.

Picking up her cardigan before it got stained with wine, Hamid held his hands to her. “You’re not sleeping on the floor. I’ll take you to your room.”

She tried to stare at his face, but it was impossible with the light over his head doting him an angel-like bright halo.

“I’m not sleeping,” she said, unwilling to admit how tired she was or disappoint her friends, “I’m dancing.” Her hands moved wildly at the rhythm of the song, and she laughed.

“Then dance with me.”

Meeting his gaze, she agreed, and he helped her up. Encircling her waist with both arms, he steadied her and swayed gently, as if they were American teenagers at one of their high school dances. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t what she meant by dancing.

“That’s not how you dance this song...” With a sudden squirm, she wiggled out of the embrace to demonstrate but her flats couldn’t find purchase in the rug.

Faster than the pull of gravity, Hamid prevented her from falling onto her buttocks again.

Briar mouthed something she couldn’t understand while Annabelle and Hamid spoke in hushed tones. She couldn’t understand a word they said but judging by the serious expressions on both their faces, she suspected it was about her.

“I’m not drunk!” she slurred, and Hamid turned his attention back to her, using one hand to take the hair away from her face.

“Of course not,” Hamid said softly, “You’re tired. It’s been a long day...”

“Yeah,” she sighed and waved him closer to whisper in his ear, “Is it impolite to go to bed before my guests?”

“Absolutely not. You can ask Annabelle, she’ll confirm. Besides, Edmund is here... He’s second-in-command.”

Settling this matter, she accepted his help, even though she wasn’t ready to part from him, still hoping she would muster the courage to steal a moment alone with him. Wobbling her way out of the room, she leaned on Hamid, wrapping her arms around his midsection, and giggled. This right there was happiness! No worries in her mind, and Hamid beside her.

Walking through the long and dimly lit corridor, Elizabeth kept singing and Hamid insisted that she remained quiet as a mouse. The best he got was a compromise in humming the songs instead of singing out loud.

Without any accidents or unwanted encounters with judgemental family members, they made into the main area, spotting the bright lights from the crystal chandelier downstairs. The family wing was just ahead, after the staircase, and he only needed to get her inconspicuous to her room. There were several doors on both sides of the hallway and Elizabeth stalled talking about random paintings and asking about his room instead.

“Which one, Liz?” he insisted using his lowest tone possible, and she blinked and tried to make her eyes focus on his face. “Is it this one?” He pointed at the first door on their right.

“I don’t know. What d’you think?”

“Not much, since I’ve never been to your room...” he chuckled and pulled her closer so she would not roam and stumble into a console table nearby, risking breaking one of her grandmother’s precious bibelots.

“Briar knows my room,” she said, “Let’s go back. And we can dance some more.”

Ignoring the arm holding her, she suddenly turned around and stumbled forward. Hamid caught her and couldn’t help giggling too. His apt fingers pulled the hair away from her face, and she could anticipate how close his lips were. But when her gaze focused on his face, she found neither the sight of his beautiful smile nor those bedroom eyes he had been generously offering her this evening. His eyes were wide, and he looked somehow shocked.

Did I do something wrong?

He wasn’t truly looking at her, she realized, but at something over her shoulder.

There was no time to ask anything. Hamid pushed her back into the corridor they came from. Looking over his shoulder, he pushed her into one of the small alcoves in the hallway, and her back hit the frame of the portrait of one of her ancestors while her mind raced.

Is that a portrait of Viscount Vincent, the one father was named after? Oh, wait! That’s not what I was supposed to think about! I need to ask what he’s doing. Is he about to kiss me?

The idea was suddenly too appealing. Her heart hammered inside her chest and her fingers closed around the soft fabric of the jumper, and she expected his lips to level with hers.

Instead of the expected pleasing touch of his mouth, a hand covered her puckered lips. Her eyes searched for an explanation, and with his free hand he pressed an index finger against his own lips to request her to be silent.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered into her ear, and her eyes widened. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs became too loud to ignore.

Was it grandmother coming back home? Her blood froze. The idea of being caught like a misbehaving teenager, almost sobered her up, until she remembered she wasn’t a teenager anymore. This was not like that one-time sneaking drunk into her friend Renata’s home without waking her mother. She’s old enough to drink. There’s nothing wrong going on – if you don’t consider the fact Hamid is acting odd and not kissing her when they are finally alone – and even the prim and proper lady Dominique gets a little tipsy from time to time and laughs in an unladylike fashion in the company of Mrs. Sinclaire and their friends – even though she prefers her granddaughter not to mention that fact.

However, Hamid seemed determined in his mission, even if it meant trying to hide them both in a place that could fit only half of her body and the light over the portrait was probably giving away their presence. But why would she protest when his entire body was pressed against hers like this?

Hamid’s chest heaved and his breath fanned her face. She looked up, trying to meet his gaze, but he was too focused on the incoming presence to notice her attempt at making flirty eye contact.

Hand still over her mouth, he whispered, “It’s your father.”

Somehow, he pressed even closer, no space left between them or the wall, and an involuntary urge to laugh grew inside her. As if reading her thoughts or the meaning behind the shake of her shoulders, Hamid’s eyes widened.

Looking over Hamid’s shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her father’s back, going up the stairs and straight towards his room. Fortunately, the sound of footsteps faded, and a door closed in the distance with a barely audible click.

His hand moved away, and her lips followed instinctively, but he didn’t seem to notice the aftereffect, still looking to where Lord Vincent disappeared.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said softly, his gaze flicking back to hers, “but I thought you wouldn’t want to meet anyone.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, the frame still pressed against her back.

“Let’s go back and–”

“Third door on the left!” she blurted out, suddenly wanting to get there as soon as possible.

“Are you positive?”

She pushed his chest freeing herself and pulled him by the hand. Hamid used his other hand to steady her while following her bouncing confident steps down the corridor.

When they reached the door, as a precaution to not end up bursting into the wrong room, Hamid asked to check if it was empty. Cracking the door just enough to let the hallway lights flood it, they both peeked inside.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“My room!”

“Not so loud,” he pleaded, and she held his hand again, pulling him inside with her. “Come in!”

His eyes roamed free for a few seconds, taking in the decorations and little details that distinguished the room from the others before the lights were dimmed. His gaze moved again, finding Elizabeth leaning against the desk with eyes barely opened.

“We’re here… alone…”

Were it anybody else, Hamid would have no doubt what that meant. But in Elizabeth’s case, he assumed the lights were hurting her eyes and her legs were faltering. And that’s the reason he offered to come and assist her through the night. She drank too much.

“Do you need help to –” Hamid stopped, thinking about the best phrasing in this situation. How to suggest aiding her in changing her clothes or taking her to the bathroom without sounding like a total creep? Freshen up, perhaps? Scratching the back of his head, he felt self-conscious about the entire situation. It was not often he needed to think through how to offer this kind of help to the utterly shy woman in front of him who takes his breath away even after an eleven-hour flight, with wrinkled clothes and messy hair. Maybe he shouldn’t have offered to come here in the first place. It’s different when it’s not one of your sisters you’ll offer help with this sort of thing.

The silence stretched and Elizabeth didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence, instead, she kicked her flats and said, “You owe me a dance.”

Fifteen minutes ago, she was asleep in his shoulder and now she had an urge to dance. How was that even possible?

Walking closer, she reached his hands and her fingers intertwined with his. Her hips swayed from side to side in the rhythm of a mysterious tune she hummed.

“Don’t you prefer to go to bed?”

“Are you trying to bed me?” she tried to wink suggestively but slowly blinked instead.

He laughed, considering what sober Elizabeth would think about this phrasing and exchange.

“Right now,” he said as softly as the touch of his hand on her arm, “my only concern is the hangover you’ll have.”

“Chato! Muito chato![5]” She poked his chest. “You are spoiling the fun, mister Osmanoğlu.”

Holding a laughter, he walked away and filled a glass with water and brought back to her.

“First, drink this. Then we dance.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Please. You’ll thank me later.”

Her eyes flicked from Hamid’s face to the glass, and she gulped the whole content. With the sleeve of her blouse, she wiped the water running down her chin, and he refrained from using his thumb to remove the remaining drops underneath her lower lip, and removed the glass from her hand.

“I’ll bring another glass. It’ll help with the hangover...”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not drunk!” she huffed in protest.

“I have a feeling you'll need aspirins too. Do you have any?”

“I don’t know...” she shrugged.

“Can I take a look around?”

“Are we dancing now?” she asked following him, and he held her arms gently.

“Stay here,” he helped her sit on the bed, “very still until I come back.”

“Are you leaving me?”

“Just for a second. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Everybody says that, and they lie,” she sighed, closing her eyes, and let her body fall back on the bed.

The en-suite was his best shot at finding medicines, therefore he began his search there.  

When Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open, she was alone in the room. Dragging her feet, she managed to reach the wardrobe and pick a load of clothes, which were thrown at the bed. With little effort, the long-sleeved blouse was pulled over her head, and she was too focused working on removing her pants to notice the footsteps returning from the en-suite.

“I've found the aspirins,” Hamid announced while walking into the room. The unexpected sight of Elizabeth half-undressed caused him to stop suddenly, and he almost dropped the glass of water. “Why are you striping?” he gaped, and immediately turned around.

“Hamid!” she cried and stumbled back on the bed, jeans freed from her foot and flying over her head. The mobile inside her pocket tumbled to the ground with a dull thump. “I’m changing,” she said sitting on the bed, and folding her arms in front of her chest to cover herself.

“You should have warned me.”

“You were gone.” Getting up, she pulled the plaided pants up, and hopped once to adjust it.

“I told you I was looking for aspirins.” Sighing, he placed the glass on the nightstand and peeked over his shoulder, after she kept mumbling unintelligible words in Portuguese.

“Do you need help?” he asked without looking at her, and definitely not peeking at the pink lacy bra whose sight his brain was too fast to imprint.

“I need only to take my bra. Don’t turn around!”

“No! Leave the bra! Please!” Back turned to her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.  

“But it’s uncomfortable...”

“You just take pleasure in torturing me, don’t you?” he asked looking up and she didn’t know if he was talking to her or to God.

“Just a second…”

She finally unclasped the hooks and did her best to slip the straps off her shoulders, and pulled it from inside one sleeve and then the other, and finally removed it from underneath her shirt and hid in the pile of clothes.

“You’re absolutely killing me here, Liz!”

“Okay... I’m done.”

Hamid looked at her, and even though the pink plaid shirt of the pyjamas was buttoned incorrectly with a few buttons missing the right holes, she looked stunning with her long hair cascading down her shoulders. Getting up from the bed, she danced around the room in fuzzy socks, slowly getting closer to where he was standing. He couldn’t hide the smile when she pulled a complex set of steps without stumbling once.

“Dance with me?” she asked, offering her hand and a small smile, and he accepted. “We need a song!” she announced and started patting her legs. “What’s wrong with these pockets?”

“There are none. You changed.”

“Right! Give me your mobile!”

He obliged, depositing his mobile in her palm, but not without remarking that she was a very bossy drunk. Her fingers moved over the screen, and she stared at it in confusion.

“You do it,” she said returning the mobile, “I can’t read Turkish...”

“It’s in English. And the icons look the same...”

His fingers glided quickly over the screen, searching for a mellow song to lull her to sleep. After considering the options in one of his “date night playlists”, he selected ‘Sunrise’ by Norah Jones. He hit play and placed the phone over the nightstand, returning to where she was standing.

The melody and the singer’s soft voice filled the room, and Hamid placed his hands gently on her waist.

“This is nice,” she said softly, and he agreed.

Unexpectedly, she closed the distance he had purposefully put between them by throwing her arms around his shoulders. Tilting her face up, she nuzzled his neck, and his heartbeat picked up.

Taking a deep breath, her perfume invaded his nostrils. When the tip of her nose brushed against his sensitive skin on a path to his jaw, he shivered, overwhelmed by the sensations her closeness stirred. He could no longer hear the music, only focusing on their breathing.

When his eyes fluttered open, Elizabeth was on her tiptoes, a hand on his shoulder for support, and determination in her eyes. Deflecting her attempt to kiss him, he tilted his face up, but she rested a hand on his cheek and tried again.

Grabbing her hands with gentleness, he rested them on her sides and pulled away, being met by her offended glare.

“What's wrong, Hamid?” she mumbled, “Have you changed your mind?”

“Liz, you are drunk,” he whispered.

“And I really want to kiss you.”

These words, he has been wanting to hear them for weeks, but he cannot let himself trust in them now, not when she is inebriated like this. His heart aches with the disappointment in her eyes when he doesn't allow her to approach.

His next words are chosen carefully.

“If you'll still feel the same way tomorrow, say one word and we'll kiss until we're both out of breath.”

Her lower lip quivered, and she averted her gaze. “What if this is the only way I can tell you that?”

He cradled her face and tilted it up so she could look into his smiling eyes. “Our first kiss should be special and memorable, like what we have, and not a drunken whim... I have a feeling we’ll talk about it for the years to come… and I believe this is not the first kiss we deserve nor the story you’ll want to tell…”

Lowering her eyes, her cheeks were reddened by embarrassment and he gently kissed her forehead.

“We have time. And if you don’t mind, I still wish to dance with you.”

Elizabeth allowed him to encircle her waist and bring her closer again. While they swayed slowly, her face rested on his chest and her hands moved up and down his back. Her shoulders shook with her giggles and Hamid could not refrain his curiosity anymore. Pulling away, he looked down at her face. “What is so funny, canım benim[6]?”

“Your jumper is so soft. I like it.”

“I’m pleased that you do.”

“Take it off.”

“Excuse me?” he stopped swaying completely and stared at her.

“I want to borrow it. It seems so warm...”

“You want to undress me to borrow my clothes?” She nodded. “That’s... rather unexpected. It’s the first time I receive such a proposition...”

“Can I have it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I have a feeling, if I lent you, I’ll have to clean it from vomit and it’s a brand new and very expensive jumper.”

She pouted, but he remained firm.

“Then I crave to see your…” she said, gesticulating vaguely in front of his chest, “body... Show me.”

“It’s too late to objectify me.” He twirled her and deftly pulled her back to his chest, and she snuggled. “I’m sure we can find something as soft as this one in your own closet. Are you cold?”

Yawning, Elizabeth rested her head against his chest, just as he wished.

Taking the cue, he slow-danced her towards the bed and helped her sit down.

“Will you stay?” He nodded, and she smiled. “Good. I want to lay my head on your chest.”

“The jumper. I got it.” He said while collecting the clothes splayed on the bed to put over the desk.

Giggling, she crawled to the middle of the bed and threw a glance at him over her shoulder. “It’s not the only reason.”

Pulling the covers up, she invited him, and Hamid’s eyes fixed at the ceiling and a string of foreign words left his mouth.

“Is that your prayer before bed?”

A huff escaped his nose, and he smiled. “Sort of...”

Taking off his shoes and his jumper, he sat on the edge of the bed and turned off all the lights, except the lamps on the nightstands. He looked at her over his shoulder and laid on the bed over the covers. Elizabeth quickly moved closer and rested her head on his chest. His steady heartbeats pounding beneath her palm.

“This is nice,” she whispered, “Are you comfy?”

“Very much,” he replied, playing with the curls of her long hair.

“Good. It’s important to keep guests comfy. That’s what my grandmother always says.”

“I cannot picture her ever saying comfy, but alright.”

She chuckled and the laughter merged into muffled sounds against his chest.

“I didn’t understand a word you said, Liz.”

“Which bone did you break?”

“Bones. Left arm, the tips of two toes on my left foot and the big toe on the right foot –” he lifted his right hand and brought closer to her face “– and this little finger here.”

“How?”

“Skating, football and trying to teach myself an ancient martial art.”

She took his hand in hers and observed his fingers. “Which martial art?”

“I tried to break wood like Bruce Lee.”

Her head shook when she giggled, and her hair tickled his arm, Hamid couldn’t imagine a more delightful sound coming from her mouth. Actually, he could, but he pushed the idea away.

“How old were you?”

“Eight.”

“Aw... So, baby!” she said with a baby voice, and adjusted herself on the bed to look him in the eye. “Why didn’t you answer?”

“Excuse me?”

“The last question. Why picking the dare if you have nothing to hide?”

“Don’t you know?” he asked softly, “My answer was obvious to everyone present, but it would make you more uncomfortable. And I didn’t want that...”

“Oh,” she gasped. “Sorry. I didn’t… Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I... I don’t know… I… you were cold because of me.”

“I didn’t mind. And you rewarded me with plenty of attention… I think it was more than worthy it. Now, sleep. Goodnight, aşkım[7],” he said softly and kissed the top of her head.

“What did you say?”

“Goodnight, Liz.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“All that alcohol is disturbing your hearing.”

Ten minutes later, she was snoring with a hand over his chest. He held and kissed her hand before removing it. Considering she'll probably need to go to the bathroom and bathe, it was probably for the best to text Annabelle and propose her to change places with him. Carefully, Hamid lifted her arm and moved his legs first, his feet soundless touching the carpeted floor. When he stood up, her voice sounded hoarse behind him.

“Don’t go, Hamid. Please.”

Her face was illuminated by the soft light from the lamp. With her eyes closed, she reached for the pillow he had been lying on and held it tight. “I don’t want to be alone,” she mumbled, “I’m tired of being alone.”

Notes:

[1] Dede – Turkish word that means grandfather.

[2] Dayi – Turkish word that means uncle from the mother’s side of the family.

[3] Yok artık – Turkish – similar in this context to “No way”.

[4] O quê? – Portuguese – means "What?"

[5] Chato! Muito chato! – Portuguese – it means boring! Very boring!

[6] Canım benim – Turkish – term of endearment that means “my soul” or in the context “my dear”.

[7] Aşkım – Turkish – used as a term of endearment “my love”.

#desire and decorum fanfic #desire and decorum modern au! #prince hamid #prince hamid x oc #oc: elizabeth foredale #hamid x elizabeth #briar dally #annabelle parsons #luke harper #edmund marlcaster #theresa sutton #tw: drinking #tw: swearing #tw: sex mention #choicesmonthlychallenge

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Kansas City, Missouri is now a “sanctuary city” for trans people following a 12-1 vote by the Kansas City Council to declare itself one. The move comes in response to the state’s Republican-led legislature passing two bills aimed at limiting the rights of transgender Missourians.

As the Associated Press reports, on Wednesday, Republican lawmakers sent two bills to Missouri Gov. Mike Parson (R). One would ban gender-affirming healthcare like puberty blockers and hormone therapy for trans youth as well as some adults. The other bans trans athletes from participating in girls’ and women’s sports at all grade levels and in college at both private and public schools. Parson is expected to sign both bills.

In response, the Kansas City Council on Thursday voted 12 to 1 to approve a resolution to declare the city a sanctuary for people seeking or providing gender-affirming care. As a result, city officials will not prosecute or fine individuals or organizations under the state’s new anti-trans laws. City staff are also instructed to make enforcing the ban on gender-affirming care “their lowest priority.” The Kansas City Police Department has also been encouraged to adopt a similar policy, The Los Angeles Blade reports.

“Kansas City government is committed to ensuring Kansas City is a welcoming, inclusive, and safe place for everyone, including our transgender and LGBTQ+ community. After the Missouri state legislature introduced several bills criminalizing access to gender-affirming healthcare across Missouri, I am proud City Council took action and approved the ‘safe haven’ resolution to take steps, within our legal power, to protect our transgender community and anyone seeking gender-affirming care,” Mayor Quinton Lucas (D) said. “For decades, Kansas City has been at the forefront of our region, ensuring we have equality for all, and we will continue to do everything in our power to fight for equal rights for all in our city, no matter what happens at our state capitol.”

Councilwoman Andrea Bough, the resolution’s sponsor, said that the measure was a reiteration of Kansas City’s commitment to diversity and inclusion.

“As a woman and a mother, I strongly feel that personal health care decisions should be reserved for individuals, families, and their physicians without influence from politicians,” Bough said. “Public service should be about helping the community not harming individuals. Today we are proclaiming to our transgender and LGBTQ community that you are safe with us.”

The city’s LGBTQ Commission previously sent a letter to city council members urging them to pass legislation to make Kansas City a “safe haven” for transgender people, following an “emergency regulation” issued by Missouri Attorney General Andrew Bailey (R) in April to severely restrict access to gender-affirming healthcare in the state.

The rule would require both minors and adults in Missouri to receive 15 hourly sessions with a therapist over at least 18 months before receiving gender-affirming care such as hormone therapy or puberty blockers. They would also have to be screened for autism and “social media addiction,” and any mental health issues would have to be treated and resolved before they would be eligible for treatment for gender dysphoria.

Critics described the move as a “power grab” by Bailey, who is campaigning for reelection. A Missouri judge temporarily blocked the rule late last month.

#us politics #news #lgbtq nation #lgbtqia+ positivity #lgbtqia+ representation #lgbtqia+ #lgbtqia+ rights #kansas city #Missouri #2023 #the associated press #gov. mike parson #ap news #Kansas City Council #Kansas City Police Department #The Los Angeles Blade #gender affirming healthcare #gender affirming care bans #Quinton Lucas #Andrea Bough #Andrew Bailey #puberty blockers #hormone therapy #gender dysphoria

[unfortunate-arrow]

FANKIDS APPRECIATION WEEK, DAY 7: FAMILY DYNAMICS

GEORGIE PARSONS and REVA ROVERE-PARSONS seem to be quite different at first glance. Georgie’s much more reserved and measured than Reva, who takes after her father, Angelo (@potionboy3), in terms of countenance. However, Georgie and Reva both hold a strong ambition to show the world that women are more than the home. Georgie and Reva have always been close and they just seem to click. Perhaps it’s because Georgie has a little sister or maybe it’s just that they understand each other.

RORY and MILES O’NEILL have a strong relationship. Rory raised Miles by himself for nearly a decade, and Miles is a big reason that Rory didn’t lose himself after losing his wife. The song “Dear Theodosia” from Hamilton represents Rory’s view on fatherhood and his son quite well. Miles adores his father quite a bit, eagerly looking up to the man. Given that it was just the two of them for awhile, they formed a close bond. Miles couldn’t have asked for a better father.

TADHG LYNCH and RICHARD SAPIEHA might look similar, but their personalities couldn’t be more different… at least on the surface. Tadhg’s a known jokester and troublemaker, while Richard’s serious and a rule follower. Despite this, the grandfather and grandson are a lot more similar than one would expect. They’re both on the quieter side and prefer to have time alone.

BARNABY and DECLAN O’DONNELL-LEE have a good yet complicated relationship. They’re actually quite similar, even though it’s not always the most evident. However, they struggle to connect and understand this. It’s hard considering that Barnaby’s other three children are extremely fascinated and into magical creatures, a topic that Barnaby is always confident in. Declan, on the other hand, isn’t overly interested in magical creatures, preferring to spend his time on athletic pursuits and Barnaby isn’t as confident in that realm.

MICHAEL O’DONNELL, KEIRA KHANNA-O’DONNELL, and VIOLET O’DONNELL-LEE are a chaotic trio of cousins. All three were born in 2003 and attend Hogwarts together, albeit in different houses… which was probably for the best. Violet and Keira take turns being the voice of reason as it depends on the situation. Michael is generally always attracting (or causing) trouble. Despite having a wide group of friends outside of the family, Michael, Keira, and Violet often find themselves coming back together to hang out.

HUGH WHITTEN, LEO EASTERBROOK-WHITTEN, and TOMMY MARCH-WHITTEN are also a chaotic trio of cousins and attend Hogwarts together. However, Hugh and Leo are both first cousins, while Tommy is their second cousin. Tommy is very much the voice of reason and is more interested in music, while Hugh and Leo are trouble magnets and are very taken with athletic pursuits. Despite their noticeable differences in interests, Hugh, Leo, and Tommy have always had a close relationship. From the moment Tommy joined the Whitten family, Hugh and Leo made him feel like he was part of the family.

↳ for @endlessly-cursed’s fankid appreciation event

#fankidsaw23 #georgie parsons #reva rovere parsons #tadhg lynch #hp victorian era #hphl #richard sapieha #rory o’neill #miles o’neill #fbawtft oc #barnaby lee #declan o’donnell lee #michael o’donnell #keira khanna o’donnell #violet o’donnell lee #fankids: rynny #fankids: carowan #hphm fankids #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hugh whitten #leo easterbrook whitten #tommy whitten march #fankids: jage #fankids: whitterbrook #fankids: martten #hpma fankids #magic awakened #hpma #my aesthetic

[belbeten]

Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better

Thanks so much for the tag @strangegeology :) I love tag games!

3 Ships You Like: Arthur/Eames, Thorin/Bilbo, Rooster/Hangman. (and a million others, I’m such a multishipper!)

First Ship Ever: Kili/Tauriel from the Hobbit movies was the first ship that led me to AO3 (my beloved).

Last Song You Heard: of my own volition: Return of the Grievous Angel – Gram Parsons. Otherwise: probably something from Kidz Bop.

Favorite Childhood Book: The Hobbit, and The BFG

Currently Reading: fanfic all day every day 4eva!

Currently Watching: There’s an old Simpsons episode on in the background right now.  Other than that, I just finished Only Murders in the Building last week, and just started the first episode of Reservation Dogs earlier tonight.

Currently Consuming: Nothing.  But I had lasagna and salad for dinner, which was delish.

Currently Craving: Hostess cupcakes

Tagging (no pressure at all!): @lolahardy @castles-in-the-eyre @boisinberryjamarama @thr3eguess3s and anybody else who would like to!

#tagged #tag meme #ask meme #strangegeology

[gerogerigaogaigar]

Curtis Mayfield - Curtis

The sprawling funk/soul explorations of Curtis Mayfield display a masterful talent for bombastic arrangements and biting political commentary. The calls for unity are par for the course when it comes to 70s funk, but rather than the both sides-ism of Sly And The Family Stone, Mayfield would like to remind us that we're all gonna fucking die if we don't work together. As for the music, the lush horns, frenetic percussion, frequent harp parts, and aspects of psychedelia make for an incredibly unique album, especially for it's time.

The Byrds - Sweetheart Of The Rodeo

Gram Parsons wanted country rock to be a thing so bad. He was willing to completely overhaul half the personnel of his band and tank their careers just so he could have his country album. Sweetheart Of The Rodeo has been severely vindicated by history considering how big of a genre country rock wound up being in the 70s and all the conservatives who got mad that long haired hippies were ruining their music can suck it. The album consists almost entirely of covers including artists like The Louvin Brothers, Merle Haggard, and Woody Guthrie. It feels very authentic. Acoustic guitar, fiddle, pedal steel, and honky tonk piano abound as Parsons croons over some decidedly non hippie country songs. It's clear they're being a little cheeky when they do The Louvin Brothers' song The Christian Life after all.

Gang Of Four - Entertainment!

What's better than angular, funky, post punk? Angular, funk, Communist post punk obviously! Frustrations about commodity fetishism make up like half of this albums lyrical content. But beyond just the politics the music is also revolutionary. The jittery guitars are matched by punchy drums and staccato singing. It's disorienting, it's angry, it's hugely influential. Come join the proletariat dance party.

Velvet Underground - White Light/White Heat

This album is completely feral. Half the songs are about people dying horrifically and there's a seventeen minute jam describing an orgy. No joke for real content warning ⚠️ this album features a very stark and realistic portrayal of how trans people were treated back in the 60s. We have to talk about Lady Godiva's Operation. It's a song about a transgender woman dying in the operating table due to a botched lobotomy. It's brutal and has always been one of the only songs that really scares me. The song's attitude is intensely sympathetic to it's subject, the only hint of Lady Godiva's trans status is one line were a doctor misgenders her and the fact that she was going in for a lobotomy at all (by the 60s they were mainly reserved for gay men and trans women). The humanity of the character in the first half of the song versus the indifference of the doctors in the latter half is an incredibly succinct condemnation of how society treated queer people at the time. ⚠️ Ok content warning over y'all can open your eyes again. Putting the subject matter aside White Light/White Heat is musically unhinged. The guitars are so scrungy and fuzzed out that it can be hard to understand what's going on. Songs like Here She Comes Now and the title track are basically 50s rock and roll with the most fucked up guitars imaginable. The Gift, Lady Godiva's Operation, and Sister Ray are weird droning things with mostly spoken word lyrics. And the guitar solos on Sister Ray are beyond punk and more like noise rock or even just noise. This album is not for everyone, hell it might not be for anyone, but I really like it. I have a soft spot for weird anomalies.

Mary J. Blige - What's The 411?

I'm usually pretty harsh on lengthy 90s R&B fuck jams, but this album is really good at being that thing. 92 was probably the exact time for a funky Hip hop influenced R&B album to be really good by my standards specifically. The beats, produced by Puff Daddy, are very reminiscent of late 80s style hip hop and the vocals are spaced out, very echoey. They combine nicely to create an effect where the vocals encompass you while the beats hit you in the face. A lot of the songs structure are more focused on layering vocals to create a sound more similar to P-Funk than soul, it stops the longer tracks from being boring since they need the four to five minutes length to explore those layers.

Kacey Musgraves - The Golden Hour

Unbelievably boring. I don't care at all about this album. Did you know that Weird Al also has a song called Velvet Elvis? It's basically the exact same song but it's a joke and it came out in the 80s.

#500 album gauntlet #curtis mayfield #the byrds #gang of four #velvet underground #mary j blige #kacey musgraves

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"INNES HAS A HABIT OF LOSING MONEY," Toronto Star. October 1, 1912. Page 3. --- Second Offence of Dropping Employer's Cash Leads to a Long Term. --- CASES IN POLICE COURT --- Two Men With Two Bags of Potatoes, Which They Say Were Given to Them. --- Though there was little force behind the blow which Thomas Petrie directed at Constable Young's face, Magistrate Denison chose to fine the intent rather than the act when the man came up in the Police Court.

"Was taking his name," Young stated, "when he struck me."

Petrie's two fines, for drunkenness and assault, were a dollar and costs. each, or thirty days, with time to pay.

The Sentences Grow. The sentences of Edward Innes have been somewhat disproportionate. This morning before Magistrate Denison, he admitted that while working as a collector for Joseph McQuilian's liquor store in Queen street west he retained $11.80 from the returns, and offered the defence that if he was given time he would refund the money and have it taken out of his wages.

"I lost it," he suggested.

"It's not the first time he's lost money," Crown Attorney Corley. commented. "A year ago when he was given $400 to buy Exhibition tickets he lost that. His term then was sixty days." Now, for the theft of of the much smaller amount, Innes will go to Central for a much longer term, four months.

Two Bags of Potatoes. Once more Charles Beamish, an aged character well known to the police, is charged with theft. Last night he was taken by Constable Ox-land, who saw him walking away with a bag of potatoes on his shoulder. A few paces behind was Lou Parsons, with a like load. The constable, knowing Beamish, went after the stranger first.

"Parsons dropped his load and ran," Oxland stated, "but I caught them both."

The charge is that the potatoes were stolen from a G.T.R. box car.

"Given to me," declared Beamish, confidently.

"Whom by?"

"Don't know his name."

"Where does he live?" "Don't know."

"Who is the kind man, anyway?" Magistrate Denison demanded, a bit impatiently.

Finally Beamish decided it was either the carmen or an officer of the M.O.H. Department. The couple remain in jail a week until they can give more definite information.

After arresting Mrs. Louisa Fifield as she came out of Eaton's. Detective Wickett want to her home at Prescott avenue, West Toronto, and a large quantity of goods, which the woman is charged with stealing.

When arrested with her 12-year-old daughter Queenie, Mrs. Fifield had an umbrella and six shirt waists which could not be accounted for by sales checks which could not be accounted for.

Ivy, another daughter. aged 15. working at Gillies' factory. 121 Prescott avenue, the police say, has admitted the theft of 11 neck scarfs, 197 neckties, 4 spools of silk, and a spool of brass wire.

The bundle of goods that the police recovered includes ribbons of all recovered in sizes, fancy lace bags, six umbrellas, lace, shirt waists, collars, hat plumes, and numerous small decorative articles. More were recovered this morning but none of the articles have yet been identified as coming from the Eaton Store.

When Mrs. Fifield appeared in Police Court, T. C. Robinette, reserved election and did not obtaining a week's adjournment.

Detective Wickett was with woman most of the morning, but she denies stealing the goods. She came to this country about nine months and ago.

Accused of Burglary Wm. J. Bell is being held in connection with the shopbreaking at 280 Church street on the night of September 14, when the warehouse of the John Sloan Company, wholesale grocers, was broken into and burglarized. Entrance was forced through a rear window, several desks were broken open, and the burglar, whether Bell or another, proved so clever that he found the combination of the be vault. About 260 postage stamps, $28.07 in cash, medals, and a quantity of jewelry was stolen.

Bell was placed under arrest on King street by Detective Mitchell in pawnshop, where it is alleged he was attempting to dispose of jewelry which, the police say, corresponded to the stolen articles.

Bell was remanded a week without bail.

A Real Estate Deal. "If you can't do business better than that you had better not do it at all. You've been here before. If you come again I'll know better how to deal with you." Those were the comments of Magistrate Denison to William Campbell, a real estate dealer, charged with the theft of $320 from Adam McMillan. There was a conviction, with a remand till called upon.

McMillan said that he bought a lot in Brandon for $320, and that when was fully paid for Campbell kept putting him off for several weeks and never furnished the deed.

Campbell's defence was that he had purchased a group of lots and that he hadn't fully paid for them to obtain the deeds himself.

"Carrying them on McMillan's money," the magistrate commented. "That is no way to do business. But you'll be remanded till called on." Campbell will now furnish the deed.

Back to Blue Grass Land. Hyde Nelson, colored, declares he will go back to his Kentucky home, and Robert Beatty is short $5. Beatty said that ten days ago he handed the colored man the amount at the Woodbine, to put on a "sure thing" which really won.

"And I never got my winnings," was the complaint.

As Nelson was positive he passed the money along to a third person who misplaced it, the ten days already spent in jail seemed enough, that is, if he keeps nis promise to get town.

Chinese Liquor. "Ing Kopy" was the plain English lettering on a carafe of Chinese wine which was seized upon the the premises of Ing Ding at 192 York street by the police when Inspector Dickson led a search party through the Chinese quarter two weeks ago..The charge was illegal sales and keeping.

"'Ing Kopy' means medicinal wine," explained J. W. Carry, defence counsel. "The proper analysis is printed on the side. That complies with the law."

Not when written in Chinese," Magistrate Denison replied.

Some of the police contended that the while the liquid was labelled "Ing Kopy," it was in reality only whisky colored red. As a test, the magistrate had whiffed a little from a glass, thought it was stronger than rose wise, and demanded an analysis. Ding was accordingly allowed a week's remand.

Lee Dun of 184 York street, was to have sold whitish stuff rice wine, for which his fine was $100 and costs or 3 months.

A Real Estate Deal After several remands, John Hanley, real estate agent, was convicted of false pretences. The complainant was John Bain, who stated he placed Welland and Port McNicol lots in Hanley hands for sale.

"He told me he had a buyer," Bain explained, "so I gave him $35 commission. Then he turned in a $100 check from a bogus buyer, and I couldn't get the money."

The court allowed Hanley three weeks remand to produce this buyer, but when he still failed to do so this morning, he was sent to to jail for 20 days.

John A. Brooker, of 54 Margueretta street, was fined $100 and costs for illegal liquor sales. The case has been on the books since July 20.

#toronto #police court #assaulting a police officer #drunk and disorderly #real estate scam #swindlers #illegal possession of alcohol #chinese canadians #vagrancy #shoplifters #women in the toils #fines and costs #fines or jail #sentenced to prison #central prison #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

[macaroni-rascal]

I think we're seeing the effects of two main factors in ice dance - consistency and material. CPom have improved tremendously since they switched, in every way (Anthony couldn't twizzle for the life of him, and look at him now) and they've had some of the best material in the game for the past two years. G/Pa have done the opposite. Now, I don't know the particulars of their situation, but they might have reservations about moving to Canada due to school/ability to work over there/just the overall cost. The thing with them vs L/L to me is that while we've seen L/L have poor performances, we've seen G/Pa have full-blown, unsalvageable meltdowns. You add the terrible material on top of that - the new RD just doesn't flow musically or thematically - and this is where you'd naturally arrive. Caroline has become increasingly hunched over as she's gotten taller, which is a risk you take when you team up with a teenager who's still growing in your mid-twenties, and I just don't know where they go from here unless they make drastic changes (or even then!). CPom have just been incredibly steady. L/L also have a lot of other advantages, like the fact that after this quad, Canada will have no one really in dance, whereas the US has a lot more depth. Not to mention, Skate Canada looooves a junior world champion and they'll try to make them happen in senior even when they aren't happening (Nam being a prime example). It's just very different situations - the US doesn't need G/Pa in the way Canada absolutely needs L/L, so they simply don't need to get behind them in the same way. I expect mad scores for L/L at Worlds.

Agreed on all points! CPom have come out swinging with excellent material two years in a row, while Green and Parsons have had programs that looks dated at best and boring at worst, not to mention questionable packaging. Maybe it's because it's been a decade or more since Charlie and/or Tanith have been on the ice dance scene, but their teams all look like they climbed out of 2012 worlds. It's rough out here.

#konner talks skating

[talenlee]

KJV Supremacy And Antisemitism

KJV Supremacy And Antisemitism

If you ask an American Christian (in this case used to refer to the type of Christianity, not the type of American) about the conception of ‘Christianity’ you will usually see a definition of Christianity that is unconsciously structured around a set of concentric circles, where each layer in you progress, the more and more legitimately Christian the remainder is, depending on what the current threat is. If you’re looking at things where there being lots of Christians is a good thing, ‘Christian’ includes everyone who even says ‘god damn’ at some point, even if the last time they went to church was inhaling near a parson on the train. If it’s important to exclude people (because of, say, their disagreement with you on whether or not gay people should be burned alive), then suddenly, the mindset wants to pull back, across different boundaries of ‘really’ Christian.

Some of these boundaries are obvious and some of them are less obvious. People who never attend church, they’re not really Christian, even if they claim to be. People who attend church very rarely, they’re less Christian, but they are in a different layer to the first group. And you can go further and further into the layers of this horrible onion and find really specific nitpicky things that legitimise the American Christianity of a person, you’re going to find one particular boundary that’s been set up is about choice of Biblical translation. What’s more, amazingly, the translation that seems to centralise this mindset the most, and one of those dog-whistles that shows you’re dealing with the Shithead Brigade is a deference and reverence reserved for one, particular, correct translation of the Bible: The King James Version.

Man, America loves its kings.

The King James Version of the Bible was first put together in the early 1600s, and for the time, there’s a lot of conservative writing. The idea was to make it so that the Bible, when read aloud in public, would convey a proper tone of seriousness and importance, which meant that even for the day its grammar and word choice was pretty pompous. It’s that particular Biblical Speak which is only really grammatically coherent for a period just before the King James Bible was written, and it’s where you get a lot of thees and thous and evereth they dideth the thingeth.

It’s also a translation with a lot of problems!

One particular problem is that it flattens out some terms. This can happen in any translation naturally; for example, when we translate Magic: The Gathering cards to Japanese, while we in English have a bunch of different terms for different, specific types of undead like zombie, skeleton, ghost, spirit, wight, ghoul and ghast, these terms are all kind of just covered by a single word in Japan, which created some challenges in translating these card names meaningfully in other languages. That’s okay, translation is an art, not a science, but you can see a lot about what people do and don’t translate.

Sometimes this is about one language being more specific than another; in the Bible’s base text, there are about fifteen different words that the KJV translates into English as ‘Prince.’ More damningly, there’s one word that gets translated as ‘servant’ when one type of person has them, and translated as ‘slave’ when another type of person has them, which is pretty explicitly an ideological choice. This serves to obscure the role of slavery in the Biblical text, and also, tends to ambiguate the way that slavery works. Another fun one is that Hades and Gehenna, two different ideas in the original text, are invoked, they both get translated in the KJV as ‘Hell,’ a subject on which the Bible is normally pretty sparse.

Fact is, Biblical translation is hard. There are words in the Bible that appear in no other text, anywhere, and whose meaning we have to kind of guess at. Sometimes that guess is easy, sometimes the guess is a bit broader. I’ve talked about Shamgar, Son of Anath, a folk hero who murdered a bunch of people with a ?????. The typical translation of that ????? is ‘ox goad,’ but we have a term for an ox goad, and it’s not that term.

These are known as hapax legomenon, which is also a great name for a military rank that’s meant to look like some kind of cube-shaped chicken. There are a lot of these in ancient texts, and when you translate them, there’s different ways to handle that. None of these methods, though, can convey to you what the original text meant – and in English, we don’t have a meaningful literary way to convey ‘untranslated,’ or ‘untranslatable.’ It’s funny, it’s a byproduct of our position in the world, this supremacy we’re used to that there’s an implied relationship to other languages that you shouldn’t have to see untranslated words, that you should be able to convey everything in English alone.

But that’s general translation problems. Because these American Christian mindsets that anyone using a non-KJV translation are ultimately, as with almost every time I talk about this fundie stuff, conspiracy theorists. The idea runs that any translation after the KJV is corrupted, because it changes God’s word. How do you know it changes God’s word? Because it’s not the KJV. But, you might try to futilely argue, the KJV is just a translation, it’s not the core text. But, but the response comes, if there’s a difference between the translations that implies the KJV is wrong, and that can’t be the case.

Some of these folk commit to the next step, which is to say that the King James Version of the Bible is divinely inspired. This perspective is ridiculous if you’re outside of the space, but you gotta remember, this is a community that leaps to magic really quickly to explain things. But some don’t, and the lack of willingness to commit to that is tied to instead trying to demonstrate some scholarship that undermines other, later translations.

Funnily enough they very rarely point out those problems I underscore – you know, the way that some translation is impossible. Instead, it’s much more likely to pick around specific points of doctrine that the KJV kinda enforces (there’s a whole argument about the positioning of a comma representing the trinity) and therefore, the lack of those specific points mean the new texts are an attempt to lure Christians away from true things and undermine these important doctrines (that can be undermined by the moving of a comma).

But okay.

So why.

Why did the Bible only get perfected when it was translated into English, and why is it every subsequent translation is in fact an evil permutation enforced by Roman Catholics or liberal Protestants, depending on who you ask. Who benefits from this, you ask.

And then they take a deep breath and whisper the Jewwwwwwwwws–

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#FundieStuff

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Parson's chameleon in Peyrieras Reptile Reserve, Andasibe-Mantadia National Park at Madagascar

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Old Dominion, Priscilla Block & Adam Doleac – PPG Paints Arena – Pittsburgh, PA – September 15, 2023

When long time country music band Old Dominion brought their "No Bad Vibes Tour" to Pittsburgh's PPG Paints Arena, it was a night most fans will never forget. From the opening acts to the nearly two-hour set by Old Dominion, the show was filled with hit after hit.

Old Dominion is made up of some of Nashville's best songwriters, having songs that were hits for artists like Kenny Chesney, Blake Shelton, Dierks Bentley, Luke Bryan, and of course for Old Dominion.

The stage was a large T-shape and split the general admission pit into two sides giving everyone a good view. All of the acts used every inch of the stage to keep the show moving and the energy high.

Old Dominion opened their set with hit after hit including "Make It Sweet,” "No Hard Feelings," "Never Be Sorry," "Break Up With Him," and the hits kept coming. They took time to show off some of the songs they wrote by including "Save It For A Rainy Day," a song they wrote for Kenny Chesney.

The next song, "My Heart is a Bar" was the closer, until the crowd called them back out for a two-song encore of "Hawaii" and "I Was On A Boat That Day." There was a little bit of a country rebel streak in the encores as the show went past the building curfew by a few minutes. They really hustled off the stage after the last note. All in all it was a solid set turned in by one of the longest lasting bands in recent country history.

Taking the stage right before Old Dominion was Priscilla Block, one of a crop of new female country acts trying to each find a niche in the industry. Block began her career posting music online, and mostly on Tik Tok. After using a Go Fund Me to cut the self- penned "Just About Over You" and seeing it go viral, she had record labels falling all over each other to sign her.

Naming her fan club, and stage show, "The Block Party", she had a party atmosphere with her cross of country and southern rock, and only slowed down for the very personal "Me Part 2" which she performed acoustic on guitar. She only got to perform 7 songs on the night, and it seemed she was only getting warmed up when it was time to wrap it up. Block does seem to know her niche and her audience, and her songs cater right to the heart of them.

Newcomer Adam Doleac took the stage before Block for a very short set. Included in the set were his two singles "Famous" and "Doing It Wrong", but the crowd sang along with every song in his set. He worked the large stage like a pro and left the crowd wanting more.

Old Dominion Setlist: Make It Sweet / No Hard Feelings / Never Be Sorry / Break Up With Him / Midnight Mess Around / No Such Thing As A Broken Heart / I Should Have Married You / Written In The Sand / Be With Me / Said Nobody / Snapback / Hotel Key / Memory Lane / One Man Band / Song For Another Time / How Good Is That / Nowhere Fast / Show Shopping / Can't Get You / Save It For A Rainy Day / My Heart Is A Bar / Encore: Hawaii / Rock N Roll Part 2 / I Was On A Boat That Day

Priscilla Block Setlist: My Bar / Off The Deep End / Me Part 2 / You, Me and Whiskey / Fake Names / Thick Thighs / Just About Over You

Adam Doleac Setlist: Somewhere Cool With You / Could've Loved You Longer / Drinkin' It Wrong / Don't It Sound Alright / Another / Meet Me In The City / Famous / Absolutely (Story Of A Girl)

Dave Parsons

Copyright ©2023 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: September 17, 2023.

Photos by Dave Parsons © 2023. All rights reserved.

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