#That's what we called people moved onto our land who took our homes in Ireland

[vyorei]

Fucking mob violence from occupiers in Deir Sharaf, obviously with the OK of occupation forces

[96harmony96]

Chapter 6

Hey, Dad. I caught you.” I adjusted my grip on the phone receiver and pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. I missed my father. For the last four years we’d lived close enough to see each other at least once a week. Now his home in Oceanside was the entire country away. “How are you?”

He lowered the volume on the television. “Better, now that you’ve called. How was your first week at work?”

I went over my days from Monday through Friday, skipping over all the Lauren parts. “I really like my boss, Mark,” I finished. “And the vibe of the agency is very energetic and kind of quirky. I’m happy going to work every day, and I’m bummed when it’s time to go home.”

“I hope it stays that way. But you need to make sure you have some downtime, too. Go out, be young, have fun. But not too much fun.”

“Yeah, I had a little too much last night. Cary and I went clubbing, and I woke up with a mean hangover.”

“Shit, don’t tell me that.” He groaned. “Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about you in New York. I get through it by telling myself you’re too smart to take chances, thanks to two parents who’ve drilled safety rules into your DNA.”

“Which is true,” I said, laughing. “That reminds me…I’m going to start Krav Maga training.”

“Really?” There was a thoughtful pause. “One of the guys on the force is big on it. Maybe I’ll check it out and we can compare notes when I come out to visit you.”

“You’re coming to New York?” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Oh, Dad, I’d love it if you would. As much as I miss SoCal, Manhattan is really awesome. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’d like anyplace in the world as long as you’re there.” He waited a beat, then asked, “How’s your mom?”

“Well…she’s Mom. Beautiful, charming, and obsessive-compulsive.”

My chest hurt and I rubbed at it. I thought my dad might still love my mom. He’d never married. That was one of the reasons I never told him about what happened to me. As a cop, he would’ve insisted on pressing charges and the scandal would have destroyed my mother. I also worried that he’d lose respect for her or even blame her, and it hadn’t been her fault. As soon as she’d found out what her stepson was doing to me, she’d left a husband she was happy with and filed for divorce.

I kept talking, waving at Cary as he came rushing in with a little blue Tiffany & Co. bag. “We had a spa day today. It was a fun way to cap off the week.”

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’m glad you two are managing to spend time together. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?”

I hedged on the subject of the charity event, knowing the whole red carpet business and astronomically-priced dinner seats would just highlight the gap between my parents’ lives. “Cary and I are going out to eat, and then I plan on staying in tomorrow. Sleeping in late, hanging out in my pajamas all day, maybe some movies and food delivery of some sort. A little vegetating before a new work week kicks off.”

“Sounds like heaven to me. I may copy you when my next day off rolls around.”

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was creeping past six. “I have to get ready now. Be careful at work, okay? I worry about you, too.”

“Will do. Bye, baby.”

The familiar sign-off had me missing him so much my throat hurt. “Oh, wait! I’m getting a new cell phone. I’ll text you the number as soon as I have it.”

“Again? You just got a new one when you moved.”

“Long, boring story.”

“Hmm…Don’t put it off. They’re good for safety as well as playing Angry Birds.”

“I’m over that game!” I laughed and warmth spread through me to hear him laughing, too. “I’ll call you in a few days. Be good.”

“That’s my line.”

We hung up. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for minute; then Cary cranked up Hinder on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear.

I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Lauren.

“Necklace or no necklace?” I asked Cary, when he came into my bedroom looking seriously amazing. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention.

“Hmm.” His head tilted to the side as he studied me. “Hold it up again.”

I lifted the choker of gold coins to my throat. The dress my mom had sent was fire engine red and styled for a Grecian goddess. It hung on one shoulder, cut diagonally across my cleavage, had ruching to the hip, and then split at my right upper thigh all the way down my leg. There was no back to speak of, aside from a slender strip of rhinestones that connected one side to the other to keep the front from falling off. Otherwise, the back was bared to just above the crack of my buttocks in a racy V-cut.

“Forget the necklace,” he said. “I was leaning toward gold chandeliers, but now I’m thinking diamond hoops. The biggest ones you’ve got.”

“What? Really?” I frowned at our reflections in my cheval mirror, watching as he moved to my jewelry box and dug through it.

“These.” He brought them to me and I eyed the two-inch hoops my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. “Trust me, Camila. Try ’em on.”

I did and found he was right. It was a very different look from the gold choker, less glam and more edgy sensuality. And the earrings went well with the diamond anklet on my right leg that I’d never think of the same way again after Lauren’s comment. With my hair swept off my face into a cascade of thick, deliberately messy curls, I had a just-screwed look that was complemented by smoky eye shadow and glossy nude lips.

“What would I do without you, Cary Taylor?”

“Baby girl”—he set his hands on my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine—“you’ll never find out.”

“You look awesome, by the way.”

“Don’t I?” He winked and stepped back, showing off.

In his own way, Cary could give Lauren a run for her money…er, looks. Cary was more finely featured, almost pretty compared to Lauren’s savage beauty, but both were striking people that made you look twice, and then stare in greedy delight.

Cary hadn’t been quite so perfect when I met him. He’d been strung out and gaunt, his emerald eyes cloudy and lost. But I’d been drawn to him, going out of my way to sit next to him in group therapy. He’d finally propositioned me crudely, having come to believe the only reason people associated with him was because they wanted to fuck him. It was when I declined, firmly and irrevocably, that we finally connected and became best friends. He was the brother I’d never had.

The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realize how nervous I was. I looked at Cary. “I forgot to tell the front desk she was coming back.”

“I’ll get her.”

“Are you going to be okay riding over with Stanton and my mom?”

“Are you kidding? They love me.” His smile dimmed. “Having second thoughts about going with Jauregui?”

I took a deep breath, remembering where I’d been earlier—on my back in a multi-orgasmic daze. “Not really, no. It’s just that everything’s happening so fast and going better than I expected or realized I wanted…”

“You’re wondering what the catch is.” Reaching out, he tapped my nose with his fingertip. “she’s the catch, Camila. And you landed her. Enjoy yourself.”

“I’m trying.” I was grateful that Cary understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn’t explain something.

“I researched the hell out of her this morning and printed out the interesting recent stuff. It’s on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out.”

I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.”

“Back atcha, baby girl.” He headed out. “I’ll head down to the front desk and bring her up. Take your time. she’s ten minutes early.”

Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the chair and got lost in Lauren Jauregui's history.

It was like watching a train wreck to read that she was the Daughter of Geoffrey Jauregui, former chairman of an investment securities firm later found to be a front for a massive Ponzi scheme. Lauren was just five years old when her dad committed suicide with a gunshot to the head rather than face prison time.

Oh, Lauren. I tried to picture her that young and imagined a handsome dark-haired girl with beautiful green eyes filled with terrible confusion and sadness. The image broke my heart. How devastating her father’s suicide—and the circumstances around it—must have been, for both her and her mother. The stress and strain at such a difficult time would’ve been enormous, especially for a child of that age.

Her mother went on to marry Christopher Vidal, a music executive, and had two more children, Christopher Vidal Jr. and Ireland Vidal, but it seemed a larger family and financial security had come too late to help Lauren stabilize after such a huge shakeup. she was too closed off not to bear some painful emotional scars.

With a critical and curious eye, I studied the women who’d been photographed with Lauren and thought about her approach to dating, socializing, and sex. I saw that my mom had been right—they were all blondes. The woman who appeared with her most often bore the hallmarks of a KaKasian heritage. she was taller than me, willowy rather than curvy.

“Magdalene Perez,” I murmured, grudgingly admitting that she was a stunner. Her posture had the kind of flamboyant confidence that I admired.

“Okay, it’s been long enough,” Cary interrupted with a soft note of amusement. He filled the doorway to my sitting room, leaning insolently into the doorjamb.

“Really?” I’d been so absorbed; I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

“I would guess you’re about a minute away from her coming to find you. she’s barely restraining herself.”

I shut the folder and stood.

“Interesting reading, isn’t it?”

“Very.” How had lauren’s father—or more specifically, her father’s suicide—influenced her life?

I knew all the answers I wanted were waiting for me in the next room.

Leaving my bedroom, I took the hallway to the living room. I paused on the threshold, my gaze riveted to lauren’s back as she stood in front of the windows and looked out at the city. My heart rate kicked up. Her reflection revealed a contemplative mood. Her gaze was unfocused and her mouth grim. Her crossed arms betrayed an inherent unease, as if she was out of her element. she looked remote and removed, a woman who was inherently alone.

she sensed my presence or maybe he felt my yearning. she pivoted; then went very still. I took the opportunity to drink her in, my gaze sliding all over her. she looked every inch the powerful magnate. So sensually handsome my eyes burned just from looking at her. The rakish fall of black hair around her face made my fingers flex with the urge to touch it. And the way she looked at me…my pulse leaped.

“Camila.” she came toward me, her stride graceful and strong. she caught up my hand and lifted it to her mouth. Her gaze was intense—intensely hot, intensely focused.

The feel of her lips against my skin sent goose bumps racing up my arm and stirred memories of that sinful mouth on other parts of my body. I was instantly aroused. “Hi.”

Amusement warmed her eyes. “Hi, yourself. You look amazing. I can’t wait to show you off.”

I breathed through the delight I felt at the compliment. “Let’s hope I can do you justice.”

A slight frown knit the space between her brows. “Do you have everything you need?”

Cary appeared beside me, carrying my black velvet shawl and opera length gloves. “Here you go. I tucked your gloss into your clutch.”

“You’re the best, Cary.”

He winked at me—which told me he’d seen the condoms I had tucked into the small interior pocket. “I’ll head down with you two.”

Lauren took the shawl from Cary and draped it over my shoulders. she pulled my hair out from underneath it and the feel of her hands at my neck so distracted me, I barely paid attention when Cary pushed my gloves into my hands.

The elevator ride to the lobby was an exercise in surviving acute sexual tension. Not that Cary seemed to notice. He was on my left with both hands in his pockets, whistling. Lauren, on the other hand, was a tremendous force on the other side of me. Although ahe didn’t move or make a sound, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from her. My skin tingled from the magnetic pull between us, and my breath came short and fast. I was relieved when the doors opened and freed us from the enclosed space.

Two women stood waiting to get on. Their jaws dropped when they saw Lauren and Cary, and that lightened my mood and made me smile.

“Ladies,” Cary greeted them, with a smile that really wasn’t fair. I could almost see their brain cells misfiring.

In contrast, Lauren gave a curt nod and led me out with a hand at the small of my back, skin to skin. The contact was electric, sending heat pouring through me.

I squeezed Cary’s hand. “Save a dance for me.”

“Always. See you in a bit.”

A limousine was waiting at the curb, and the driver opened the door when Lauren and I stepped outside. I slid across the bench seat to the opposite side and adjusted my gown. When Lauren settled beside me and the door shut, I became highly conscious of how good she smelled. I breathed her in, telling myself to relax and enjoy her company. she took my hand and ran her fingertips over the palm, the simple touch sparking a fierce lust. I shrugged off my shawl, feeling too hot to wear it.

“Camila.” she hit a button and the privacy glass behind the driver began to slide up. The next moment I was tugged across her lap and her mouth was on mine, kissing me fiercely.

I did what I’d wanted to do since I saw hee in my living room: I shoved my hands in her hair and kissed her back. I loved the way she kissed me, as if she had to, as if she’d go crazy if she didn’t and had nearly waited too long. I sucked on her tongue, having learned how much she liked it, having learned how much I liked it, how much it made me want to suck her elsewhere with the same eagerness.

Her hands were sliding over my bare back and I moaned, feeling the prod of her erection against my hip. I shifted, moving to straddle her, shoving the skirt of my gown out of the way and making a mental note to thank my mom for the dress—which had such a convenient slit. With my knees on either side of her hips, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and deepened the kiss. I licked into her mouth, nibbled on her lower lip, stroked my tongue along her…

Lauren gripped my waist and pushed me away. she leaned into the seat back, her neck arched to look up at my face, her chest heaving. “What are you doing to me?”

I ran my hands down her chest through her dress shirt, feeling the unforgiving hardness of her muscles. My fingers traced the ridges of her abdomen, my mind forming a picture of how she might look naked. “I’m touching you. Enjoying the hell out of you. I want you, Lauren.”

she caught my wrists, stilling my movements. “Later. We’re in the middle of Manhattan.”

“No one can see us.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not the time or place to start something we can’t finish for hours. I’m losing my mind already from this afternoon.”

“So let’s make sure we finish it now.”

Her grip tightened painfully. “We can’t do that here.”

“Why not?” Then a surprising thought struck me. “Haven’t you ever had sex in a limo?”

“No.” Her jaw hardened. “Have you?”

Looking away without answering, I saw the traffic and pedestrians surging around us. We were only inches away from hundreds of people, but the dark glass concealed us and made me feel reckless. I wanted to please her. I wanted to know I was capable of reaching into Lauren Jauregui, and there was nothing to stop me but her.

I rocked my hips against her, stroking myself with the hard length of her cock. Her breath hissed out between clenched teeth.

“I need you, Lauren,” I said breathlessly, inhaling her scent, which was richer now that she was aroused. I thought I might be slightly intoxicated, just from the enticing smell of her skin. “You drive me crazy.”

she released my wrists and cupped my face, her lips pressing hard against mine. I reached for the fly of her slacks, freeing the two buttons to access the concealed zipper. she tensed.

“I need this,” I whispered against her lips. “Give me this.”

she didn’t relax, but she made no further attempts to stop me either. When she fell heavily into my palms, she groaned, the sound both pained and erotic. I squeezed her gently, my touch deliberately tender as I sized her with my hands. she was so hard, like stone, and hot. I slid both of my fists up her length from root to tip, my breath catching when she quivered beneath me.

Lauren gripped my thighs, her hands sliding upward beneath the edges of my dress until her thumbs found the red lace of my thong. “Your cunt is so sweet,” she murmured into my mouth. “I want to spread you out and lick you ’til you beg for my cock.”

“I’ll beg now, if you want.” I stroked her with one hand and reached for my clutch with the other, snapping it open to grab a condom.

One of her thumbs slid beneath the edge of my panties, the pad sliding through the slickness of my desire. “I’ve barely touched you,” she whispered, her eyes glittering up at me in the shadows of the backseat, “and you’re ready for me.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I don’t want you to help it.” she pushed her thumb inside me, biting her lower lip when I clenched helplessly around her. “It wouldn’t be fair when I can’t stop what you do to me.”

I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and held it out to her with the ring of the condom protruding from the tear. “I’m not good with these.”

Her hand curled around mine. “I’m breaking all my rules with you.”

The seriousness of her low tone sent a burst of warmth and confidence through me. “Rules are made to be broken.”

I saw her teeth flash white; then she hit a button on the panel beside him and said, “Drive until I say otherwise.”

My cheeks heated. Another car’s headlights pierced the dark tinted glass and slid over my face, betraying my embarrassment.

“Why, Camila,” she purred, rolling the condom on deftly. “You’ve seduced me into having sex in my limousine, but blush when I tell my driver I don’t want to be interrupted while you do it to me?”

Her sudden playfulness made me desperate to have her. Setting my hands on her shoulders for balance, I lifted onto my knees, rising to gain the height I needed to hover over the crown of Laurens thick cock. Her hands fisted at my hips and I heard a snap as she tore my panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred my desire to a fever pitch.

“Go slow,” she ordered hoarsely, lifting her hips to push her pants down farther.

Her erection brushed between my legs as she moved and I whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms she’d given me earlier had only deepened my craving rather than appeased it.

she tensed when I wrapped my fingers around her and positioned her, tucking the wide crest against the saturated folds of my cleft. The scent of our lust was heavy and humid in the air, a seductive mix of need and pheromones that awakened every cell in my body. My skin was flushed and tingling, my breasts heavy and tender.

This is what I’d wanted from the moment I first saw her—to possess her, to climb up her magnificent body and take her deep inside me.

“God. Camila,” she gasped as I lowered onto her, her hands flexing restlessly on my thighs.

I closed my eyes, feeling too exposed. I’d wanted intimacy with her and yet this seemed too intimate. We were eye-to-eye, only inches apart, cocooned in a small space with the rest of the world streaming by around us. I could sense his agitation, knew she was feeling as off-center as I was.

“You’re so tight.” Her gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony.

I took more of her, letting her slide deeper. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling exquisitely stretched. “You’re so big.”

Pressing her palm flat to my lower belly, she touched my throbbing clit with the pad of her thumb and began to massage it in slow, expertly soft circles. Everything in my core tightened and clenched, sucking her deeper. Opening my eyes, I looked at her from under heavy eyelids. she was so beautiful sprawled beneath me in her elegant tuxedo, her powerful body straining with the primal need to mate.

Her neck arched, her head pressing hard into the seatback as if she was struggling against invisible bonds. “Ah, Christ,” she bit out, her teeth grinding. “I’m going to come so hard.”

The dark promise excited me. Sweat misted my skin. I became so wet and hot that I slid smoothly down the length of her cock until I’d nearly sheathed her. A breathless cry escaped me before I’d taken her to the root. she was so deep I could hardly stand it, forcing me to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort. But my body didn’t seem to care that she was too big. It was rippling around her, squeezing, trembling on the verge of orgasm.

Lauren cursed and gripped my hip with her free hand, urging me to lean backward as her chest heaved with frantic breaths. The position altered my descent and I opened, accepting all of her. Immediately her body temperature rose, her torso radiating sultry heat through her clothes. Sweat dotted her upper lip.

Leaning forward, I slid my tongue along the sculpted curve, collecting the saltiness with a low murmur of delight. Her hips churned impatiently. I lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before she stopped me with that ferocious grasp on my hip.

“Slow,” she warned again, with an authoritative bite that sent lust pulsing through me.

I lowered, taking her into me again, feeling an oddly luscious soreness as she pushed just past my limits. Our eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where we connected. It struck me then that we were both fully clothed except for the most private and intimate parts of our bodies. I found that excruciatingly carnal, as were the sounds she made, as if the pleasure was as extreme for her as it was for me.

Wild for her, I pressed my mouth to her, my fingers gripping the sweat-damp roots of her hair. I kissed her as I rocked my hips, riding the maddening circling of her thumb, feeling the orgasm building with every slide of her long, thick penis into my melting core.

I lost my mind somewhere along the way, primitive instinct taking over until my body was completely in charge. I could focus on nothing but the driving urge to fuck, the ferocious need to ride her cock until the tension burst and set me free of this grinding hunger.

“It’s so good,” I sobbed, lost to her. “You feel…Ah, God, it’s too good.”

Using both hands, Lauren commanded my rhythm, tilting me into an angle that had the big crown of her cock rubbing a tender, aching spot inside me. As I tightened and shook, I realized I was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of her inside me. “Lauren.”

she captured me by the nape as the orgasm exploded through me, starting with the ecstatic spasms of my core and radiating outward until I was trembling all over. she watched me fall apart, holding my gaze when I would’ve closed my eyes. Possessed by her stare, I moaned and came harder than I ever had, my body jerking with every pulse of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she growled, pounding her hips up at me, yanking my hips down to meet her punishing lunges. she hit the end of me with every deep thrust, battering into me. I could feel her growing harder and thicker.

I watched her avidly, needing to see it when she went over the edge for me. Her eyes were wild with her need, losing their focus as her control frayed, her gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax.

“Camila!” she came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted me with its ferocity. she shook as the orgasm tore into her, her features softening for an instant with an unexpected vulnerability.

Cupping her face, I brushed my lips across her, comforting her as the forceful bursts of her gasping breaths struck my cheeks.

“Camila.” she wrapped her arms around me and crushed me to her, pressing her damp face into the curve of my neck.

I knew just how she felt. Stripped. Laid bare.

We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. she turned her head and kissed me softly, the strokes of her tongue into my mouth soothing my ragged emotions.

“Wow,” I breathed, shaken.

Her mouth twitched. “Yeah.”

I smiled, feeling dazed and high.

Lauren brushed the damp tendrils of hair off my temples, her fingertips gliding almost reverently across my face. The way she studied me made my chest hurt. she looked stunned and…grateful, her eyes warm and tender. “I don’t want to break this moment.”

Because I could hear it hanging in the air, I filled it in. “But…?”

“But I can’t blow off this dinner. I have a speech to give.”

“Oh.” The moment was effectively broken.

I lifted gingerly off of her, biting my lip at the feel of her slipping wetly out of me. The friction was enough to make me want more. she’d barely softened.

“Damn it,” she said roughly. “I want you again.”

she caught me before I moved away, pulling a handkerchief out from somewhere and running it gently between my legs. It was a deeply intimate act, on par with the sex we’d just had.

When I was dry, I settled on the seat beside her and dug my lip gloss out of my clutch. I watched Lauren over the edge of my mirrored compact as she removed the condom and tied it off. she wrapped it in a cocktail napkin; then tossed it in a cleverly hidden trash receptacle. After restoring her appearance, she told the driver to head to our destination. Then she settled into the seat and stared out the window.

With every second that passed, I felt her withdrawing, the connection between us slipping further and further away. I found myself shrinking into the corner of the seat, away from her, mimicking the distance I felt building between us. All the warmth I’d felt receded into a marked chill, cooling me enough that I pulled my shawl around me again. she didn’t move a muscle as I shifted beside her and put my compact away, as if she wasn’t even aware I was there.

Abruptly, Lauren opened the bar and pulled out a bottle. Without looking at me, she asked, “Brandy?”

“No, thank you.” My voice was small, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. she poured a drink and tossed it back.

Confused and stung, I pulled on my gloves and tried to figure out what went wrong.

[writings-of-dumpy]

George Weasley and the Girl in Ravenclaw: Part 1

A/N: So basically I started in Goblet of Fire, which is Fred and George’s 6th year, sooo yeah. This is going to be a long series, so buckle up! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

“Come on!!” George yelled in the stands as the bunch made their way to their seats. Raven giggled at his enthusiasm and smiled to herself. She had always gone to Gryffindor’s games and even cheered them on despite being in Ravenclaw house. She’d never forget the first match she had attended between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw in her third year. She cheered on her twin best friends from the opposing team’s stands. She saw George protect Oliver from a Bludger and prevented Ravenclaw from scoring a goal and she cheered for their move despite her housemates surrounding her booing. She laughed to herself.

“Look, it’s the Irish!” Ron said from a few people away. Music blared through the speakers and a team adorned in green robes flew through the air and sparked fireworks in the shape of a leprechaun that then began to dance. It was then that Raven noticed how far up they all were.

“Oh god, don’t lean so far, you might fall!” she warned Fred.

“Don’t worry, Ven, I’ll hold onto you,” Fred said with a sly smile and slung his arm around her waist. She blushed as his large hand smoothed across her back and secured itself around her opposite side. He saw George’s eyes narrow at his brother slightly, but the three of them were distracted by the deep drum sounds of the Bulgarian team’s entrance and the crowd chanting the seeker’s name. As his face pooped up as an image across the stadium, Hermione and Ginny shared and impressed look with each other and turned to Raven, who gave them a thumbs up.

Throughout the game, Raven noticed George and Fred getting increasingly riled up and when Ireland won the match. When the snitch was caught and the game ended, Ireland still came out on top and the twins cheered and hugged Raven close between them.

After a short walk back to the massive tent, Ron started to gush about how wonderful Viktor Krum was during the match and the twins teased him endlessly.

“I think you’re in love, Ron,” Ginny mused.

“Shut up!” he said to her in return.

“When we’re apart my heart beats only for yooouu…” Fred, George, and Harry sang to the younger redhead. Raven laughed harder than she had in quite a while and caught George’s eye as he sang the lyric. Shortly after, Ron started beating Fred with a pillow.

“Stop it! Stop! It! We’ve got to get out of here. Now,” Arthur said in a rush as he came practically running into the tent. Raven quickly stuffed what she had pulled out of her bag back in and ran with the Weasleys out of the tent.

“Get back to the portkey, everyone! Fred, George! Ginny is your responsibility!” Arthur barked as flames and explosions surrounded them. An explosive spell landed just shy of her head and hit a metal beam of a nearby tent. It feel away from her and she looked back to where the spell had originated. Arthur rushed to fight off the attackers, and in the chaos, Raven lost sight of him. She pulled out her wand and prayed that the ministry wouldn’t notice if she put out a few fires.

“I’m not risking you getting hurt,” she heard George shout over the screaming from beside her just as she was about to perform the enchantment. She felt his hand grip hers and he began to pull. With a shake of her head, they ran back up the hill together with their fingers locked together.

George looked over at Raven as they reached the top of the hill with the rest of the group minus Harry to make sure she hadn’t been injured.

“We have to go back and find him, he could be really hurt!” Raven protested and dropped her sack and began to head back toward the flames.

“No!” George said sternly as his adrenaline rushed through him. “YOU could get hurt too. I’m not letting that happen. Dad’s still down there, he’ll find him. We need to get back home.”

With a sigh, Raven nodded and once again took George’s hand and followed him to the portkey.

~*~

“That’s rubbish!” Fred and George called out among the boos from courageous but underaged Gryffindors and Slytherins after the age restriction was made on this year’s Triwizard Tournament.

George was livid. The tournament sounded like something he would kill to be a part of. Eternal glory? Riches beyond wildest dreams? Dangerous tasks requiring brave and creative solutions? Sign him up. He wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing. But he fell a year short. He’d be 17 in April, but the tournament would have been well underway at that point.

Dumbledore shushed the hall and George stopped paying attention as he was already figuring out ways to circumvent the rules, as usual. The following day, he and Fred approached Raven after their potions lesson.

“Hello, love,” George greeted with a beaming smile.

“Cleverest witch we know,” Fred continued.

“Brightest in the school, I’d say,” George complimented.

Raven shot them a suspicious smile. “What are you two on about?”

“Well I’m sure you’ve heard of the Triwizard tournament,” Fred began. “And that horrible rule.”

“The one meant to keep children safe? Seems a bit hypocritical to me,” Raven said and the trio sat on a bench in the courtyard.

“Oh?” George asked.

“If they really wanted to keep children safe, the tournament wouldn’t be held at schools,” Raven said. “Now, what about it?”

“Well, Georgie and I want in on it,” Fred said. “One of us has to be champion enough, eh?”

Raven’s eyes went wide. “You’re joking, right?”

George felt slightly guilty and looked at Fred, who pressed on, “Not in the slightest, my dear.”

Raven scoffed. “Thank Merlin you’re too young to put your name in that goblet.”

“But that’s where you come in, darling,” George said with a sweet tone, remembering his goal.

Raven raised her brow at them in a quizzical manner.

“We need some ideas about how we can get our names in there. Got to be a way to do it, and who better to ask than the most intelligent person we know,” Fred said and began to put his arm around her. She shot up and looked at them both with a disapproving and shocked expression.

“Do you honestly expect me to help you get yourselves killed? I will absolutely not help you, and I can’t believe you two would think this was even a remotely good idea. What would Molly say? I’ve already lost my mother, and you two would have me help myself to lose more people I love? No,” Raven exclaimed with watery eyes. Before George could say anything, she turned and walked out of the courtyard and presumably to her dorm. Even though she was angry with them, George couldn’t help the butterflies he felt when she said she loved them.

A while after the butterflies subsided, George felt horribly guilty. He didn’t realize the kind of pain that Raven was feeling and he didn’t realize that by wanting to put himself in harm’s way, he would hurt her. As he and Fred scoured the library for an idea, he looked up at his brother.

“Hey Freddie?” George said in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, Georgie?” Fred replied without looking up from his book.

“I’ve been thinking… Raven may have a point. Putting ourselves in danger could hurt more than help,” George reasoned.

Fred looked up. “Think about the reward, though. Not to mention how fun it could be. If we win, we’d be richer than we could imagine! Finally be able to get mum the life she wants. And I’m willing to get hurt and die for that chance, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am, I’m just weighing options,” George said. “Raven just seemed so upset. I didn’t expect that from her, I suppose.”

“She’s unpredictable, that’s for sure. Part of what makes me like her so much, I guess,” Fred smirked and turned the page.

George’s head snapped up. “You what?”

“Like her. You do too,” Fred said with a sly smile and looked at his twin. “Why else would we call her our best friend?”

George stayed silent as he tried to understand what Fred meant. He knew he was developing feelings for Raven, but was Fred? He couldn’t pick between his brother and her, it wasn’t fair.  He knew Fred had often been the more mischievous of the two and certainly a charmer as they both were, but what was he playing at?

“An aging potion!” Fred said with glee. “That’s it!”

[hmel78]

In conversation with Raphael Doyle ...

A few weeks ago my attention was drawn to a video in which Tom Robinson [Tom Robinson Band / presenter on BBC radio] spoke about a project he’s working on with his old friend, Raphael Doyle. Now, Crowd Funding has become the ‘in thing’ and many people pay it no mind, but this pledge was different. And why? Because there’s real a story behind it - This is not just about a band expecting their fans to donate money in return for a signed photo, or a cheesy ringtone, thus ensuring  the next album is made. From what I’ve heard, the album is going to be something special musically - but not only that, this album is a genuine work of LOVE; not for profit. but for the sake of creativity, for the music ; it’s about old friends, and new, coming together to be a part of Raphael’s album - And they’re against the clock  (for more than one reason) which makes it all the more compelling. I was, of course, interested to know more about Raphael, who along with Tom Robinson and Hereward Kaye in the late 1960’s, formed the trio ‘Cafe Society’.

I should imagine you’re already familiar with Tom, and perhaps Hereward too [from his days with The Flying Pickets], but Raphael has clearly managed to remain off the radar - until now! Born in Northern Ireland, Raphael absconded to England when he was 15 - An unconventional teenager, but a keen songwriter and poet - he found himself at Finchden Manor in Kent, before carving a career, one way or another, in music. ‘Cafe Society’ enjoyed a relative amount of success but it was short lived, and following the break up of the band in 1976, Raphael’s  biography states that he was, at that time “Painfully short on confidence and increasingly dependent on drink”. By the time he was 19 Raphael had already married Rose. Over 40 years later, through thick and thin, and with a clan of four children, they’re still going strong! When I first spoke to him he was telling me about his return to living in the North East of England, having been lucky enough to buy back the very same house he and Rose had lived in as a young couple ; add to that his return to making music, and it would seem that there are many aspects of his life that are coming ‘full circle’.   “Never Closer” is the title of the album - Raphael sings us through a number of extraordinary tracks inspired by “a messy life encompassing darkness and recovery pain and love”,  but at the end of it all, quite contentedly  concludes - “The whole journey has definitely been worth it” ... You can keep up with Raphael’s story, and the pledge campaign, as it unfolds via his website and social media, but in the meantime, we thought we’d attempt to extract some more of his memories about those early days as a musician.

HR : If you’re open to talking about it Raphael, I’d like to go back to 1968 - to Finchden Manor**, where you met up with Tom Robinson - what was life like there?

Raphael Doyle : Well, I was 15 when I arrived at Finchden. I'd come from Northern Ireland where I'd had unhappy fallings out with a couple of schools.  I was clashing with the conservative, Catholic environment of my upbringing, and I was a fledgling hippy in the world that didn't like that. Finchden was like another world entirely - suddenly you found yourself somewhere where you weren't in the wrong all the time - where you could be yourself. It was very unstructured. Your time was your own.

HR : Were you encouraged to be creative?

RD : It wasn't so much that you were encouraged to be creative, but more that you were given the space to be yourself. So some people got into making things, some got into gardening, lots of us spent a lot of time talking. And there was a great spilling out of creativity, whether music, art, pottery, poetry. Whatever people had in them. Just in the time that I was there, there was Matthew Collings scribbling away amazing cartoon-like drawings, who has gone on to become a very highly regarded artist and art critic. There was Mike Medora who was playing searing blues guitar and he went on to do the festival circuit with Global Village Trucking company. There was Danny Kustow, still a much loved guitarist, who became famous beside Tom Robinson in TRB. There was the amazing and eccentric Robert Godfrey who went off to form the Enid, a legendary prog rock band, and he took with him a bunch of other boys, notably Francis Lickerish, another brilliant guitarist and multi-instrumentalist. And there was Tom and me, writing songs, putting groups together- and I guess we were encouraged, yes. We used to be brought out to play to visitors… I remember us being taken off on long journeys in George Lyward- the founder -in his old car to visit Lord and Lady somebody or other in a mansion, and he would give a fundraising talk, and Tom and I would sing a couple songs, and then wander outside where we chanced upon this old guy in ancient corduroys tending a rhubarb patch, who turned out to be the Lord himself. Very PG Wodehouse!

HR : Actually it sounds like fun,  despite being a difficult time ... There’s a great quote from Hereward [Kaye] about your songwriting, he says “The lyrics were all his own and smelt of trouble. How I longed to be deeply troubled like him!”     What was it about music, and songwriting that engaged you? Is it fair to say that without music, you may have strayed onto a very different path?

RD : Well, Hereward was right. I was a troubled young man. We all were at Finchden. But even before I went there, back in Northern Ireland, music and writing had become my escape valve. I came from a little seaside town, and a Scottish wild card called Colvin Hamilton took over the swimming pool cafe and turned it into a venue -  The Scene  - and he would bring down bands from Belfast. This was at the height of the early 60s R&B boom. ‘Van Morrison’ and ‘Them’ were the big name. I was too young to be let in but I'd spend the weekend nights with my ear pressed to the blacked out plate glass window, listening to that raw, rough earthy music. And at home, and in friends’ houses, I was listening to Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Nina Simone, Ray Charles, Buddy Guy, Robert Johnson, John Mayalls blues breakers ... So Music was already my landscape. It didn't stop me getting into trouble though!  So it was arriving at Finchden, having a place of respite , the chance to heal and grow, and there to get together with Tom and start honing my musical instincts - that's where my direction became set. I became a musician at Finchden.

HR : It was Tom who introduced you to Hereward, in Middlesborough - what happened in the interim before you eventually moved to London and formed ‘Cafe Society’?

RD : Tom's family were living in the north-east and I went up there with him for a holiday. A neighbour of his decided to introduce us to some other arty young folk she knew of from Middlesbrough, and that's where Hereward came in. We just clicked - it wasn't so usual then to meet others passionately into writing and making music. Hereward in Teesside and Tom and I in Kent would make reel to reel revox recordings of each new song and post them to each other, then when we'd meet 2 or 3 times a year and we'd have long sessions playing the songs to each other and trying out harmonies. So then when we finally got together in London it was natural to get into a bedroom or a cellar and just spend hours playing and arranging and practicing.... We were buzzing on it.

HR : From what I’ve read, many people were buzzing about it, including Alexis Korner. You had a really strong connection to him - how did that come about?

RD : Alexis had been at Finchden in his youth - he was an 'old boy'. While we were there his daughter Sappho stayed for a while ... I remember Alexis and Sappho singing the country blues song “Trouble In Mind” together. This was when Tom and I would be wheeled out to play for visitors and there were some powerful times when Alexis and us would play in a packed Oak Room to visitors and wild eyed disturbed adolescents ... So Alexis got to know us and became something of a mentor. HR : Alexis was really big on the music scene, especially with  ‘Blues Incorporated’ - how connected  were you to all of that?  

RD : I remember staying at his place in Queensway and meeting John Mayall - I was a bit dumbstruck. It wasn't that long before that I'd been standing in the dark in a blues club in Belfast watching the ‘Blues Breakers’ with John Mayall and the new guitarist Peter Green playing stunning music, and here was the man standing before me. I don't know what I mumbled but I think it was embarrassing. Another time I was sitting in Alexis' front room with Andy Fraser who was someone Tom and I both loved very much. We'd been to see ‘Free’ at the Redcar Jazz club - the place of been jampacked and heaving and the band were incredible. And here was Andy talking to Alexis about what to do now Free had broken up. He put together a band called Toby. A little while later Hereward and I nicked his drummer Stan Speake, for the band we were putting together while we were waiting for Tom to come to London.

HR : So when Tom arrived, and ‘Cafe Society’ formed properly, what attracted you to the folk scene above any of the others?

RD : We didn't really choose the folk scene. It was just that we were three guys with acoustic guitars, a focus on harmonies, writing our own songs. In those days you either put together a band and played places like the hundred club, or you went to the booming folk circuit. So we began there ...

HR : You landed a residency, as a 3 piece, at The Troubadour coffee house - what do you remember about those first performances?

RD : As far as I remember we had a residency at Bunjies first. We were playing around a lot of clubs- The Rising Sun in Tottenham Court road was a good one. But the Troubadour had the cachet; it had a more serious reputation. We used to go down there and do floor spots on other people's nights and gradually we were building up a following. So then we got a night of our own-Tuesday nights.   It was a wonderful time, a very atmospheric place to try out new songs, to practice our harmonies. We had a captive audience in a little space and it became a shared experience. I think we had a very distinctive blend.   Tom was serious about the nuts and bolts of arrangements and song structure. Hereward was a showman, flamboyant in his songs and performance, and I would escape into the music and let my soul pour out. It made for a dynamic blend. And we were all fans, we all loved music, for us the people we listened to were our heroes and we wanted to join them. HR : And it wasn’t long before you did, was it? RD : No - By now we were trying to get a deal. That was the big Next step in those days. First you build up a bit of a following, then you got management, then you got a deal. We got a manager. Hereward knew John McCoy who ran music venues in and around Middlesbrough where he came from. John went on to become Chris Rea's manager and got him signed and started on his career. We used to go up and play at the Kirk, the most happening club on Teesside at the time, which John owned and ran. He listened to our stuff and wasn't quite sure what to make of it but he agreed to manage us, and one thing led to another and it resulted in Ray Davies of ‘The Kinks’ coming down to the troubadour to check us out. It was the same night Alexis was headlining for us so there was a real buzz in the air. Ray did a bit of a floor spot with us standing alongside not quite able to believe what was happening. Ray saw something in us, I think, that chimed with his own sense of song. He signed us up to his new indie label Konk -the first one in the country-and he himself produced our first album.

HR : Presumably that opened a few doors?

RD : Sure. From playing the London folk clubs, suddenly we were getting support act slots on national tours. We supported ‘The Kinks’ a whole bunch of times,  which was a bit odd because we were this very well mannered acoustic trio in the middle of the stage set up for this raucous pop rock band and the audiences were kind of looking for a good time. But we went down surprisingly well on those tours.  HR : Didn’t you also open for Barclay James Harvest? RD : Yes -That was a bit weird because they were a full blown prog rock band with colours and smoke and atmospherics and everyone took the whole thing very seriously!   I think for some of them a support band was just a necessary evil so we felt a bit sidelined. But luckily a lot of their audiences were the listening kind and enjoyed what we did. Also I have to say that Woolly Wolstenholme was a really sweet guy and he was always very encouraging and would make time for us. We learned a great deal on all of those shows. Sometimes it's when you're not doing your own show, but having to make your mark in someone else's, that you can learn most about holding true to yourself and standing firm as a performer. Then I remember we did the Alan Hull solo album tour. Alan was big at that point as the singer songwriter of Lindisfarne so it was a much better match for us as an acoustic trio. He did the whole tour solo and the audiences were great for us.  Mind you the dressing room was a place to be .... A parade of beautiful people hobnobbing with the latest thing ... Eh, that'd be him, not us!

HR : So as things progressed, and you were having this amount of success as a trio, what prompted you to add more members and form a ‘proper’ band, changing the dynamic, and presumably the sound?

RD : Well, as I said, we weren't really a folk group. We did love people like Neil Young,  Paul Simon, Dylan... We used to finish with a James Taylor song “Lo and behold” . Tom always really liked Richard Thompson. I remember at The Troubadour we used to sing the Fairport song 'Meet on the Ledge'. But really our folk credentials were accidental. We always saw ourselves as a band. Hereward and I had both been in blues bands, and played the raunchier end of R&B pop. Tom's musical interests ranged really widely. He was a big fan of early ‘Manfred Mann’. He and I were besotted with ‘The Band’, “Music from Big Pink”. So really we were just waiting for the chance to expand and go electric - unfortunately it happened just as Ray Davies was making the first album with us. He signed an acoustic trio, but while Ray was supervising recording us at Konk, a process in which we didn't feel we had much say, we were off down the road when not needed in the studio, doing our own demos in a little place in Holloway with a drummer and a bass player and a keyboard player. We abandoned the folk circuit and started to play the pub scene. The Golden Lion in Fulham, The Three Kings in North End Road where the unknown Elvis Costello was forcing himself on the attentions of a bemused audience! Upstairs at Ronnie Scott's. There was a new buzz around and we wanted to spread our wings. So with one thing and another the Konk relationship fizzled out.

HR : ‘Cafe Society’ were dubbed band of the year by Sounds magazine in 1976, but the same year saw  the arrival of ‘The Sex Pistols’ and a whole new scene - what impact did Punk have on you and the rest of the band?

RD : We had built up an expanded following as a band and it felt like we had lots to do. But Ray Davies brought in a production team to work on our second album, who were nice guys but they were not about new music. We were trying to make a go of it with them, and Hereward and I were both newly married and putting a lot of time into that side of things - so the impact of punk, for me at least, Was Tom turning up one night to visit me and sitting down in the front room and telling me how he had been going to the hundred club and seeing  this group - ‘The Sex Pistols’ - and that everything was changing. Tom was going out nights and seeing them and ‘The Clash’, the new bands, and he knew that the album we were recording was redundant.   And he did the right thing. He went off and he dived into the deep end of this new wave. A few short months later Hereward and I were standing at the back of the Lyceum on the Strand looking in disbelief at this mass of thousands of people all with their backs to us, Facing forwards, arms raised and yelling to the rafters for TRB. We didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I think we did both, but very proudly.

HR : It seems at that point, Tom was destined to go a different route - did you and Hereward plan to continue?

RD : When Tom announced he was leaving I didn't want, for myself, to carry on. But Hereward really wanted us to finish the album, which was looking more of a Hereward album anyway. So we continued. But it was without any real sense of ownership or involvement or hope. Really, it was over when Tom left.

HR : What direction did you take musically after the band broke up for good?

RD : I put together a band doing mostly my songs and some of my favourites. There was still a healthy pub rock circuit in London and we were playing places like the golden lion in Fulham and the Stapleton near Crouch end where the Jam were making their mark. There was a buzz - EMI were interested. Robert Plant came down to check us out. But the truth is my confidence was in bits ... I would be sick and need a drink before going on. I couldn't handle the business side - promoters, A&R men. Aargh. It freaks me out just remembering it. You either have the balls to be a good self promoter or you don't. I didn't. I carried on writing songs and playing in many different settings - clubs, in pubs, in schools, and made a couple of albums with a  gospel rock band in England and in the states. Later I returned to the blues with an old friend Paul Davey on guitar. I always loved Paul's playing and he has a quality to him which is very authentic. He is not flashy, he's like The early Peter Green I saw all those years ago in Belfast. But essentially I think I'm still what you might call a soul/folk singer. I love to make contemporary music that is now on the surface, but plunging deep into the timeless in the feel

HR : Some 40 years later there seem to be a lot of things that are coming full circle in your life ... in music particularly ...

RD : Yeah - Really when I look back my life has been about life, but music is a thread that runs through it either in the actual doing of it or in the yearning for it. I absolutely love making music. And that special magical thing of making music with really good musicians, where an unspoken understanding happens and creates a platform on which something even better then you know how to make, actually suddenly happens. A moment outside time. I remember seeing an interview with a very respectable English poet John Betjeman  - he was old and in failing health and he was asked rather respectfully if he had any regrets. And he said "yes. I wish I'd had more sex ". That's how I feel about that level of music making. And that's why am so blown away with what's been happening. Everything I've hungered for has come to me this year.  Making a new album, working with great people, and a really special night at the Troubadour. HR : Oh yes - the show at The Troubadour - how did it feel to perform there again? Was the atmosphere the same?

RD : Actually, the atmosphere was even better than before! I've just been listening to a recording of the opening song, “Give Us A Break”. It's a song of Tom's he and I used to do back at Finchden and we did it acoustically to start the night and it was magic. Then a series of great artists doing floor spots, then me with a spot-on young band, and Tom and Hereward getting up to join in. It was a 10 course meal by candle light! And the audience .... They might as well have been on stage, we were all so involved together.

HR : You remained friends with Tom, and Hereward - as you say they played with you recently, and have teamed in for your Solo album “Never Closer” - how does it feel to be back in their company on a creative level?

RD : Well you know we haven't been strangers to each other.

Hereward and I are brothers in law as well as friends so there's always been opportunities for us to get the guitars out and play together.  My song “Feet on the Floor”, on the new album, wouldn't be the same without Herry's harmonies.  And he's put a lovely, subtle keyboard part on “Kiltermon”, one of the most important songs for me. Tom though, his part in this has been crucial. He says he sees himself as executive producer, just making sure it happens but leaving the music up to me. The truth is he is much more than that. Looking back to the beginning, I wouldn't even be a serious musician but for Tom. And so to be doing this album in partnership with him is just fantastic.

The sense of coming full circle, of completion, of fulfilment is really strong in my life this year. This album is a big example of that, and Tom and Hereward and myself getting up on stage together at the troubadour, and being in the studio together looking into each others eyes, listening to each other, singing together, is deeply wonderful for me.

HR : You’ve said recently, that the recording process took the magic out of the music in the early days, so what has changed for you with this solo record?

RD : The heart went out of the music in the recording process in the 70s for us because it was an artificial environment and a rather autocratic structure. Music is about musicians sharing from their souls together, and that sharing combining, meeting in the air and combining into something extra. That just can't happen in a compartmentalised and splintered and structured and often rather heartless recording process. It's not always like that of course, but too often it has been. We need to get back to the magic of creativity. With this album it's very different. I suppose it's not too strong to say that this album is an act of love. And everybody involved in it is acting with creative integrity and with mutual regard. It's a great thing to be part of.

HR : What was your inspiration for putting these songs together, now?

RD : Back in the spring I noticed that I couldn't grip the plectrum when I was playing the guitar. That led me to check some things out, and I was diagnosed with motor neuron disease in April. I've had a good long summer since my diagnosis, holding the condition at arms length, and it's been great - But it is increasingly something that I am living with day by day so it is a big part of the reality of this stage of my life, and will only continue to be so, and more so ... So it's true to say that all this has come about in response to my diagnosis: Tom and my son Louis started looking at the songs that had never really seen the light of day, and talking about making an album - they were both very much spurred on to bring this about with me because time is an issue.  I wasn't sure  ... I certainly didn't want to make an album just for the sake of it. I wanted it to exist primarily as a piece of work in its own right, and have not wanted my health issue to be a dominant factor in what I've been doing - but the reality and beauty and urgency of this project has come about in trying to get these tracks down while it is still possible. Every stage of this process, of building this album, has been full of surprises.  It's incredibly alive. It's the story of a life. And it's a great collaboration between creative artists - not just me, but Louis, the brilliant Gerry Diver, Tom and everyone who's contributed..

HR : As you say there, the album also features your son Louis - what does it mean to you to be able to have this creative relationship with him, and your other children?

RD : It's been brilliant doing this with Louis. I always say he outstripped me musically a long time ago. The work he's done, from his early band the Cadets, to Slides, and now the Spare Room is often amazing. When he and I started looking at the songs for this album we started to get some of those shivery moments, like I used to get rehearsing in the cellar in Clapham with cafe society. I remember the rehearsal before the troubadour, we got the band together at the Music Room in New Cross and I had Louis on one side of me and my other son Jess on bass guitar on the other side, and we were all blasting out harmonies and it was like something in me just took off and flew up into the air. To be doing this together, at The Troubadour, and in the studio, and at such a wonderful high standard, is something that it's hard to explain. It's just beautiful.

HR : When are you hoping for it to be released?

RD : We are making the album with crowd funding - pledge music - so people are pre-ordering their copies and that helps pay for the cost of making it. The aim is to release it in January - hopefully on the 6th, my birthday - when I'm 64! 

HR : And what can listeners expect? RD : Well, the answer to that changes every week and every time we go back in the studio. It was going to be a good album, but there is all kinds of magic brewing in the cauldron. What can I say. I'm blown away by some of the things we've done. Gerry Diver is doing some extraordinary work on arrangements and production. Louis has written some great music, played brilliant guitar and found lovely musicians and I, I promise you, am singing my heart out. I tell you, I'm a happy man. But there's lots of previews on the PledgeMusic page, with some videos of different songs from the album or the Troubadour - keep watching.   It's at  http://www.pledgemusic.com/projects/raphael-doyle-never-closer , and my Facebook page raphaeldoylemusic

https://www.facebook.com/raphaeldoylemusic/?fref=ts

“I Come From Ireland” - a spoken word track is currently claiming worldwide acclaim, having made it to a feature in the Huffington Post!

The album - Songs Of Experience - can be found here http://www.raphaeldoyle.co.uk/

[Sadly Raphael passed away in March 2018. It is with huge thanks to my friend Ian Donald Crockett, that I had the pleasure of knowing Raphael for that short time].

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Jackieboy Man - No Longer a Hero

While I mainly write Iplier stuff, I do sometimes very rarely dabble in Septic stuff. This is an idea I’ve had with the Jackieboy Man I write that I’ve been mulling over the last few days. Now bear in mind, I am absolutely not good at writing Septics. Jackie is the only one I have proper experience with. Go easy on me in that regard.

Word Count: 1,468

-

Timelines are a very funny thing. When you’re in a position to view them all and make comparisons, you can begin to see differences. What would happen if this thing didn’t happen? What if those two never met? If you look hard enough, and focus on a small number of people, you can find the various scenarios.

Most timelines have many similarities. Maybe Marvin has longer hair in one, short brown hair in another. Maybe Chase is winning his internal battles, and is Anti in another. Two timelines could have Henrik on polar opposite ends of the good/evil spectrum. This isn’t even considering the multitude of various endings for Jameson Jackson.

This timeline is interesting. There is no Jackieboy Man.

Yes, it is a rather normal setting. “He’s not had a video in a long time!” “Where is he?” The fans would protest while posting various media about it. But that is not the situation in this timeline. There isn’t a Jackieboy Man, not anymore. He retired.

-

Our dear hero found himself in a rather strange situation. When Jack was put into hospital after an unexplained accident, he was the only one who could step up and play the part. Normally, it would be up to Chase, but Chase was not ready to return to life in front of the camera, especially while pretending to be someone else. However, Jackie was born and raised in Ireland, had a similar accent, and could sound the same if he raised his pitch a little higher. While he didn’t have piercings or tattoos, those were easy to mimic with a little creativity and fake piercings. Not only that, the pair were like-minded with a similar sense of humour. Before Jackie ever became a hero, he worked with computers, and specialised in computer sciences. When not working on that, it was a love of video games and superheroes that spurred him on. In one way, it was no surprise that when his powers were unlocked, he dove into the hero business on a part-time basis.

But after the crushing news that something bad had happened to Jack, it fell onto Jackie to play the part to ensure ‘everything was okay’. They couldn’t have people know about the threat that hid in any potential electrical device, or even what could lurk behind any set of dead eyes. Over months, Jackie began juggling a triple life: his civilian life, his hero life, and his public act. Wake up, go to work. Go home, get ready for an evening patrol. Reach Friday, spend the weekend recording for the week. It was fine at first, but it was draining. Even if he had a chance to rest, it was never something he enjoyed. One day off was ruined when there was a breaking news report of a bank robbery that took four hours to resolve. Another day had him go into the office because his co-worker was sick. Even when he was undisturbed, sleep became empty. There was no interest in anything he normally loved. Ultimately, he was exhausted and miserable, and Henrik had to intervene.

“Zhis is going to be long term,” the doctor explained in a calm voice, offering support through a gentle pat of Jackie’s arm. “You can’t keep this up forever. One life has to go. You need time to live.”

Jackie knew what that meant. Give up his day job. Abandon life as a normal human being called James, and live his full life with two masks. Be nothing more than a lie because it’s for ‘the greater good’. After all, being a content creator allows him to work at his own pace, and he can keep the part-time status of being a hero. But he smiled and promised the other he’d think about it.

Two months later, typed letters were posted to the various radio stations and newspapers in the city:

This is my official resignation.

I won’t go into detail, but Jackieboy Man is no more. I’ve received an injury that’s too great for me to continue on. Work together to keep this city we love safe, okay?

-

“James, what zhe FUCK are you playing at?!”

“I made my decision like you told me to.” Jackie’s attention was solely on his Playstation in the living room as he responded. Henrik’s response was to simply storm over and unplug the TV. “Hey! What are you doing?!” Before he could say anything else, he was dragged out of the chair and pushed onto the couch. Apparently, the other Septics had decided to give a belated intervention.

“When I said zhat you had to choose, I did NOT mean to do so in such a childish manner! Sending letters to zhe media before talking to any of us?” Henrik folded his arms. Jackie felt like he was a child being scolded by a parent, which only served to push the former hero’s buttons.

“Oh, really? So what would you have decided for me if I had asked for opinions?” Jackie sat forward, foot impatiently tapping on the ground. “Well? Give me your professional medical advice, Henrik!”

“Doc… I told you this was a bad approach -”

“No, no. Don’t try and step in, Chase. I want to hear it straight from ‘zhe good doctor’ himself.” He took the moment of hesitation to rise to his feet and square off against Henrik.

“You were supposed to quit your office job.” It was delivered so bluntly, like it was obvious common sense. “Zhe city needs a hero, and zhe internet needs safety. Besides, you aren’t hurt at all. Why are you being selfish?”

Jackie didn’t register that he had shoved Henrik until he noticed Marvin, the normally astute warlock, had tripped over a footstool to land in an ungraceful heap on the floor. Normally, he would be quick to apologise, but he was too infuriated to care.

“So that’s it, then. That’s what you think of me. Fucking fantastic. Maybe I should go out there and break my neck. Oh! But then how could I keep recording videos if I was in hospital? Not even your equipment or medication - however you fecking get that in the first place - would be able to hide that!” There was a cry of protest from the others as Jackie grabbed Henrik by the scruff of his shirt and threw him onto the couch. None dared to act. When all was said and done, there was no point trying to stop him when he was like this. They could get electrocuted with this anger.

“I’m not hurt, you say? So just because I don’t have physical ailments, I’m as fit as a fiddle? Oh sure, Jackie’s your normal, hardy Irish lad! Nothing can hurt him when he’s so used to putting himself in danger with parkour! Oh sure, being tired is nothing when you’re an almighty doctor working night shifts, day shifts, and whatever probably illegal shit you do when none of us are here, right? What’s little sleep when you’re so busy working toward the ‘greater good’, right?!” Chase reached to put a comforting hand on Jackie’s shoulder, but it was roughly shrugged off. “I haven’t slept properly in months. That’s not something pills can fix. I keep having nightmares that by me sleeping, I’m letting someone down, that I’m not living to my full potential, that someone is going to be hurt because of me. Oh, but you’d have that too, wouldn’t you? One of those ‘regular stresses of being a doctor’, isn’t that what you said before?” Before anyone else could try and step in, or before he did something he would later regret, Jackie moved away, edging toward the door.

“Being a hero doesn’t pay the bills. Being Jack doesn’t either. None of us see a penny of that money, remember? And now that Jack doesn’t exist anymore… I need to be able to live by my own means and not feel like a leech. If I gave up my day job, I’d lose more than money and the place I rent. I’d lose my only social outlet beyond you feckers. I’d lose whatever friends I made. I’d even lose my fecking birth name and identity. But it’s fine. I get it. I know what I am to all of you.”  He turned and walked with a dejected air toward the front door, only to pause and let out a breathless chuckle. “Then again, I should’ve guessed. All of you call me ‘Jackie’. James - my actual name, in case any of you forgot - is only the ‘you are in so much trouble’ name. Christ… To think I thought of you lot as a family away from home.”

With a slam of the door and a surge of electricity that blew the lights, he was gone.

[manbomary]

Dear White People: You were colonized too

Hi, white people! How’s it going? Come on in; I just put the coffee on.

 How do you take it? Cream? Sweetener? Oh, I nearly forgot. Here’s some Nilla wafers. I even put them on a plate for you. I’m not an animal, after all.

 Oh, you want a cold brew? Sorry, I’m clean out.

 Anyway, on to the reason why I called you here today.

Let’s address the spiritual elephant in the room. Actually, let’s address the spiritual elephant in America. I’m not talking about what church you go to, or what religion you were raised in, or even if you believe in God at all. I’m talking about something else. Something that didn’t even originate in America.

 It originated in Europe, a very long time ago, before any of your family thought of coming here as migrants. You know, migrants that may have left a country where they were being oppressed, or not free to practice their religion, or there were no jobs or food…

 Sorry, did that strike a nerve? Have another Nilla wafer.

 You have a spiritual unease, white people. This is beyond religion or dogma. This is much deeper.

I’m saying you were robbed. You were robbed a long, long time ago. You were robbed of your culture and heritage.

I know, I know, you’re getting defensive. I get it. I know exactly what you’re thinking:

“I have my heritage! My great-grandparents are from Ireland and Germany!”

Wonderful. What is the indigenous religion of those countries?

“…well, my family is Christian.”

No, I mean before that.

“Huh?”

See, that’s what I mean. Christianity did not originate in places like Ireland and Germany. It was brought there by colonizers.

Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. First, there were the Romans. The Romans were, like, the bomb at colonizing. They were everywhere. Their armies spread all over Europe and to the Middle East. In many cases, the Romans would move into an area and set up temples to their Roman gods. Local folks were usually allowed to keep worshipping their local gods but were also forced to sacrifice to Roman gods (including the emperor, who was viewed as a deity).

That was the first instance of colonization.

When Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire in the year 380 C.E., the second and perhaps greatest colonization began. Missionaries began going through Europe to spread the message of Christianity to the indigenous people of Europe. Wherever the missionaries went, they preached to the people that their gods and spirits were demons, that following Christianity was the only legitimate religion, and they’d better practice it or else.

As the missionaries grew in power, as more and more leaders became Christian (sometimes for political or strategic reasons rather than true spiritual conversion), the preaching became aggression. The sacred tree groves of the Celts in Ireland, England, and France were chopped down and the wood used to build Christian churches. Temples to gods that had stood for hundreds of years were razed.

Now, I’m not saying that Christianity is inherently bad, or that if you’re a Christian and white that you yourself are responsible for all these things. However, white folks, we bear those scars of colonization in our souls.

I know you’ve felt it. You may have heard stories that your older relatives told of how things were in Italy or Ireland or Germany, folk stories and beliefs. You may have heard of the fairy folk, of how trees and plants had magical properties.  I know you’ve heard of some of the “old” gods: Thor, Freya, Brigid, Athena…and you may have felt something in your soul. Something that feels longing. What would it have been like to live and know these old gods as your own? Your grandparents may have told you stories of their parents and grandparents. You heard stories of your grandfathers who fought in wars, your great-aunts who were healers or herbalists. What would it be like to have those stories be real?

I have news for you: they are. You just don’t realize it because colonization took away your opportunity to continue the old ways of your indigenous ancestors.

The Native people of what is now the United States had their lands invaded by people from another land who forced their ways and religion and laws on them. Where did these invaders (Europeans) learn how to do that? Because it was done to them.

African people were ripped from their homelands and forced into slavery in a far-off land. They were punished or killed for practicing their native religions and cultures. Christianity and imperialism told the invaders, slavers, and Conquistadors that their religious belief in spreading the Gospel of Christ justified their actions.

This same obsession with spreading the Gospel and converting the heathens that saw Africans and Native American peoples as less than human, primitive, and available to be exploited is the same force that colonized your indigenous ancestors.

How’s the coffee? It’s a fair-trade blend from Haiti. Se anpil gou, wi?

 Anyway, what I’m saying is the unease and discomfort you feel when you see Native peoples having a pow wow, or Black folks practicing Lukumi, or Latinos celebrating Day of the Dead, that weird jealous/indignant feeling, and the thought of “Why do they get to shove their ethnicity in our faces?”

That’s because you were colonized too, and your deep ancestral knowledge and heritage was taken away from you. A part of your, OUR, collective soul as indigenous European descendants was cut out. Our ancestral healers and herbalists were burned or hanged as witches. Ancient gods and land spirits were diminished into ghost tales and “superstitions”. And we have taken that energy of colonization, the energy that destroyed our indigenous culture, and foisted it onto Native Americans and the Africans brought to this side of the world and enslaved.

 Don’t look so down, white people. There is hope. You can start decolonizing yourself.

How?

Start with your ancestors. Get a white candle, light it, and put out a glass of plain water. Talk out loud to your ancestors, saying, “Ancestors of my blood, I ask those who lived well and died well to guide me to learn about the pre-Christian and pre-colonization beliefs and culture of your time.”

Do this once a week. Then pay attention. You might start having dreams. You might feel led to certain books, to ask living relatives what stories of your family they remember. Take notes. Don’t feel like you’re going crazy. You’re not.

You’re reconnecting.

This won’t be easy. Cultures like the Celts and Germanic people (just as an example) did not leave written records about themselves. You’ll be led to do more and more research, but you don’t have to turn into a research nut. Keep calling on your elevated ancestors and they will lead you in the right direction.

There are people out there who are trying to reconstruct ancient European pagan traditions. Some of them are getting things right, some of them are fronts for nationalist “white pride” groups. Don’t let them bullshit you. Vet people and check them before you get sucked into something awful.

Anyway, that’s all for now. Thanks for stopping by; come back any time.

Hey, take an extra Nilla wafer. When you get home, find a nice tree on your property and leave the cookie there for the land spirit.

Start small, act humbly, talk from the heart, and you can get decolonized.

[bisexualniallsexual]

“We were good at that, weren’t we?”

WHAT’S GOOD TUMBLR I’M ALIVE AND FELT COMPELLED TO POST SOMETHING I WROTE I HOPE YOU ENJOY

-Abby

PS: 18+, Smut ahead

Premise:

Haley is an OFC me and @niallhoranistodiefor came up with, and we have a whole story going for these two. But, sometimes one of us will get sidetracked and write headcanons of this character and Niall. This is one of those times. Haley is Niall's childhood neighbor and best friend from Mullingar, a curvy dark-haired 5'2 firecracker who's heart belongs to one Niall Horan, and vice versa. Her brother’s name is Conor. In this case, the variation from our story begins with Niall and Haley being best friends with convenient benefits, only to stop abruptly. The real meat of this headcanon is after their reunion. Just roll with me on this guys. It'll be so good. (AN: This is in American because I have no understanding of the English university system, also this is so unedited. Pls forgive.)

The past- a summary:

Niall and Haley hooked up pretty regularly when they were in their late teens. Anytime he was near her when she was at school or when they were both home he'd send a text and she'd be over, kissing him and tugging off their clothes after the first hello. It started the first time he was home after the X factor. They almost fell into it. They were hanging out in his room, talking and catching up, when Niall let slip that he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since he left. He admitted he wanted her in whatever capacity she was comfortable with. For Haley, that meant temporary and convenient company. As she went off to college and the band took off, they saw each other a little less, but they still kept in contact. If he knew he was nearby, he'd let Haley know his schedule and location, and give security a heads-up. Nine times out of ten she'd be waiting in his hotel room for him after a show, smiling while sitting on his bed in just a shirt of his. They'd fall into each other without another word, and stay wrapped up for as long as they could. For Niall this arrangement was fine, but he always saw a future with Haley. Haley, however, was focused on the moment. It seemed like every time Niall saw her again she had done something new, whether it be added a tattoo or piercing to her body, or changed her hair, or adopted a different style of dressing (his personal favorite was the boho-chic Haley with the choppy yet elegant bob, but sexy 90s grunge Haley with the fishnets and the undercut had been a good look too). Then suddenly, he stopped hearing from Haley. He'd still always let her know when he was around, but she wouldn't be waiting in his room. After a brief chat with Conor, he found out Haley had gotten into some academic trouble and was devoting herself to succeeding in school. He understood, and told her that if she ever needed anything to just ask. He still reminisced about her, the way they moved together, the way her body felt under his hands, and the way she fell apart calling his name. It rang out in his mind from time to time, and for some reason, no one could measure up to her. A few years passed and suddenly One Direction was taking its break, and Niall could only handle it by taking off to Thailand with his friends. He wished he could talk to Haley about it, to hold her and anchor himself to something, but Haley hadn't spoken to him in years. He didn't know their last time was their last. After Thailand, he focused on his career, venturing into different realms and writing his own music. It wasn't until he popped into a coffee shop in a quieter part of London that he got a chance to see her again.

Present:

Niall had been at a few meetings with labels, management, and Ellie, and was finally done for the day. He stopped into his favorite local coffee place for a treat before heading home, walking in and inhaling the scent of roasted coffee beans and pastries. He ordered a dark roast coffee with cream and a hint of brown sugar, and as he waited for his coffee he glanced around the shop. A girl in the corner typing furiously on her laptop caught his eye. She had warm brown hair with natural highlights that caught the light of the sun coming in. Her green eyes focused intently on her task, darting around her screen. Niall knew her instantly. "Hales," he said softly, his chest tightening and a flood of memories hitting him. In three years she had matured a lot, or so it appeared to him. He could tell by the way she moved that her energy was as high as ever, but directed much better. He took his coffee from the barista and walked over to her table. "Haley?" he asked. Her eyes flew up and landed on his, her mouth forming a little round 'o'. "Niall?" She said in a soft but incredulous voice. He nodded. "Hey." He said simply, shoving one hand into the pocket of his jeans. "Oh my god, hi. It's been ages! How are you?" she asked, standing up and opening her arms to hug him. Niall freed his hand and hugged her back, pushing down all of the feelings that came with being so close to her. He smiled. "Couple of years, yeah. I'm good, been keeping busy." He said and she smiled. "Here, sit with me if you have a minute. I'd love to catch up!" she said warmly and he nodded, plopping in the chair across from her. She shut her sticker-covered laptop and he glanced at the articles she had next to her. "I see I'm not the only one who's kept busy. 'The twenty best places in London to go on a budget', 'Where to go to see the real Ireland'. You're a travel writer?" He asked and she grinned. "Sort of. I'm a writer for a publisher that has magazines that highlight the best and lesser known parts of Ireland and England." She explained and he grinned. "That's incredible! I'm so proud of ya. And I hope you don’t mind me saying you look fantastic." He said, Haley blushing. "You do too. I really like that you brought back the dark hair." She said and he smiled, running his hand through it. "Dyeing it was such a hassle and my hair was dead. And I wanted a change after the band went on hiatus." He explained and she nodded. "I get it. Look, Niall, I want to explain something first before we get too into each other's lives." she said and he nodded. "Of course." He said and she looked at him. "I hope you don't think I cut you out of my life and I really, truly am sorry for just vanishing. I found out I was on academic probation and it scared the shit out of me. I was a junior in college and I had to get my act together. It was a wake-up call to focus on school and my future. It wasn't just you that I distanced myself from. It was a lot of people that I realized were negative influences on my life. You weren't a negative influence of course, but you were a bit of a distraction. It was nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I just wanted to make that clear." She finished with a small sigh, like she'd finally let a weight off her chest and he nodded. "Hales, I completely understand. You did what was best for you, I can't be mad at you for that. And look what came of it. You're a successful writer! That's so amazing. Truthfully I did miss my best friend a lot, but you and I…we kind of come and go when we need to. At the end of the day we'll come back to each other eventually." he said and Haley looked visibly relieved. "Yeah, that’s exactly how I felt." She said, a mutual understanding passing between them. They sat and chatted together for a while, catching up on their lives. Niall explained what he was up to, with the golf management company and the solo album coming together piece by piece. Haley was ecstatic at the very idea. Suddenly Haley's stomach growled. "Oh my god, it's like 5:00." She said with a laugh. They'd been talking for nearly two and a half hours. "Hey, I have an idea. Do you have plans for the night? Maybe you could come over and we could order takeout and watch movies. Like old times?" He offered and Haley smiled. "I don't have plans, and that sounds…heavenly." She said. "Then it's settled. Wanna follow me in your car?" He asked and Haley snorted. "Niall, I take the tube or uber just about everywhere. I can NOT afford a car, plus parking at my apartment complex." She said and he nods sheepishly. "Right, sorry. Well, then you can ride with me." He said and they walked to his car together. They continued their chatting in the car ride, talking about old friends from Mullingar. Haley gasped when they pulled up to Niall's house. "Oh my god, Ni it's gorgeous," She marveled as they pulled into the garage. "I can give you the grand tour." He said, leading her in. They walked from the foyer into the kitchen, Haley making a beeline for the 6-burner stove and double oven. "Oh my god, this is my dream kitchen. I kind of hate you a little bit." She said, letting Niall lead her through the rest of the house. There was the spacious and cozy living room, the inviting dining room, the office, guitar/music room, guest rooms, and then finally his room. Decorated with light greys and soft whites, a plush king bed taking center stage. The cracked door to the adjacent master bathroom revealed a shower big enough for three people. There was a walk-in closet bigger than Haley's first apartment, and she made sure to let him know. "Your house is heaven Ni." She said and he shrugged. "It's home and I love it. It's a big place for just me though. Sometimes I consider getting a dog or a roommate." He said and Haley snorted. "Roommates and dogs are messy." She said and he raised his brows at her. "What are you saying, McMahon?" He asked, being teasingly threatening. "That you're a neat freak." She said and his mouth hung open, a smile in his eyes. "Oh, you're dead." He said, reaching for her. Haley bolted away and down the hallway, laughing as she ran down into the living room with Niall at her heels. He was laughing too as he caught her in the living room, his arms snaking around her waist and lifting her up. They fell onto the couch together and Niall tickled her sides, Haley squealing and laughing uncontrollably. "Ni--stop--I'm gonna pee--oh my god stop!" She gasped and he finally stopped, letting Haley lay on top of him comfortably, like it was how they always were. Like three years hadn't passed. Their eyes met and Haley's breathing quickened, Niall could feel it. He shifted and sat up, worried this was too much too fast for her. They hadn't even acknowledged what they had been in the past. He didn't want to wreck this already. "Wanna order that food?" He asked and she nodded. "Chinese?" She asked and he grinned. "I know just what to get." He said, pulling up his favorite place on grub hub. He ordered dumplings, spring rolls, Lo Mein, sweet and sour chicken, and mu shoo pork for them so they could have plenty to choose from. Once it was ordered he offered Haley a change of clothes, which she declined, and they put on Netflix. Niall hesitantly put his arm around her and he smiled when she leaned into him. "I missed this." She said and he nodded, simply pressing his lips gently to her head. They sat contently, commenting on the movie Niall had picked, until the doorbell rang. Niall got up and paid for the food, bringing it to Haley. Her mouth watered from the smell. "Oh my god, come to momma," she said as Niall took everything out of the bags and handed her chopsticks. Haley had a bite of everything first, like she always did when they got a spread. "This is so good," she said with a mouthful of mu shoo. Niall could only nod as he chowed down too, the silence between them comfortable until they started to eat slower. "I've really missed you," he said and she blushed. "Me too. Thought about you a lot but I had to stay focused." She said and he nodded. "I know. I thought about you a lot too, especially around the hiatus. Some days it felt like my world was coming down around me." He said and Haley's eyebrows knitted. "I'm really sorry Ni. I…I wish I had been there for you when you needed me." She said and he shook his head. "Hales, don't worry. It's alright. Plus, there's plenty coming in the future I'll need you for." He said and she smiled. "So, you dating anyone?" He asked after a brief pause. Haley's green eyes went wide as she stopped chewing her mouthful of dumpling. She finished and swallowed. "Jesus, straight into it. Me? I uh…no. Not at all." She said, embarrassment in her voice. Niall looked at her and chuckled. "Glad to see we're in the same boat." He said and Haley's eyebrows went up. "You? A successful singer, CEO, and 24-year-old Irish hunk? Single? This world baffles me." She said and he laughed. "High praise." He said and she shrugged. "It's all true." She said matter-of-factly. "I'm surprised you're single too. You…you're stunning. You've always been so beautiful, even when we were awkward little teens, but now…there's something about you Hales. You radiate quiet confidence." He said and Haley's cheeks went red. Niall took a breath and then leaped for the topic they'd been avoiding. "I miss us together a lot. Like how we used to be." He said, his eyes conveying what he didn't say out loud. Haley swallowed and her eyes darted down, memories flooding her mind. "You do?" She asked and he nodded. "Yeah, I do. We were uh, pretty good at that weren't we?" he asked with a little chuckle and Haley couldn't help but crack a smile. "Yeah, yeah we were." She said. Their eyes met again and uncertainty hung in the air. They both wanted to reach for the other, to touch and feel that spark ignite again. It was just a matter of trust. Niall could feel the moment passing with every millisecond that slipped by, and he knew if they missed this their chance would be gone for good. He reached for her hand, pulling her into him and pressing his lips to hers. It was all Haley needed to let the wall come down, the familiar feeling of Niall filling her with warmth. His hands threaded into her hair, angling her head just a bit so he could kiss her deeper. She moved forward and situated herself in his lap, her legs around his waist. Niall was so much firmer, thicker, and manly than she remembered. He was the same and different all at once and it intoxicated her. Niall's hands ran over her curves, nudging the hem of her shirt more than once. Haley read his mind and lifted it off deftly, Niall's hands roaming her skin. Her kiss was like good whiskey, spreading through him and waking up his senses. "Oh god," she breathed as his lips coasted down her neck to her collarbones. "It's been ages since anyone even touched me like this Ni." She said and he nodded. "Me too. Nothing has felt this good since our last time." He said, his hot breath washing over her skin. He tugged off his own shirt at Haley's urging, her hands touching every inch of him instantly. "I need you Hales. I need to feel you. Please baby, want you so bad. Even if it's just this last time." He said and Haley looked down. She didn’t say it, but there would be no last time. This was the first time in a long time, the first of many more times to come. "Of course." Was all she said and with that Niall was standing up, carrying Haley with ease up to his bedroom. She took the time to taste the salty skin of his neck and run her hand over his chest hair, smirking. It was only when they were within feet of his bed that she went to that spot under his ear, right by the bend of his jaw, that made his knees buckle. She sucked his skin and butterflies danced in her stomach as Niall moaned, just like he always did when she found that spot. He let her down gently onto his bed and before she uttered a word he was tugging off her jeans, smiling as he saw her familiar tattoos. "I missed these. So fucking beautiful. You're a work of art." He said and kissed her thighs, skipping over her panties and going to her stomach. She still had the bellybutton ring she'd gotten her freshman year. He was glad only some things had changed. He found her lips again and Haley kissed him hungrily, her body absolutely aching for him after three long years. Niall took off his own pants and Haley looked him over for a second, nearly whimpering because she had missed him so much. She took off her bralette and Niall helped her out of her panties, her hips lifting eagerly off the bed. He kissed down her body and parted her legs, going to kneel at the edge of the bed. "Niall--," She said, her breath hitching as he settled himself inches from her heat. "So fucking gorgeous." He mumbled, his tongue licking a wide stripe over her folds. "Taste as good as I remember." He said, licking into her and finding her clit in seconds. Haley's hand flew to his hair and she moaned, Niall's tongue working wonders on her center. "Holy shit, I forgot just how good you are at this, oh GOD Niall, don't stop!" She whined, Niall sliding two fingers inside her. He pumped them slowly at first, lavishing Haley's clit and listening to her moan. Haley begged him for more and he happily obliged, quickening his pace and using his thumb on her clit in faster circles. "Niall, holy fuck, I'm already close, fuck, please, make me come baby." Haley said in a breathy voice, her hand tugging his head closer. He went back to sucking on her clit, his fingers moving easily in her wetness. He grazed his teeth over her clit, just barely, and it was enough to send Haley over the edge, coming hard while crying his name. Niall smiled proudly as he licked her release off his fingers. "That's my girl. Glad to know I can still drive you mad." He said as he kissed his way up her body, loving the hazy look on her face as she came down from her high. Haley threw an arm around his neck and kissed him deeply, feeling his hard cock through the thin fabric of his boxers against her leg. "Need you." She said and that was all Niall needed to hear. He stood up to take off his boxers, Haley watching his hard cock hit his stomach as she moved up the bed. She moaned as Niall climbed onto the bed and hovered over her. "Jesus, you look so fucking good Ni. I can't even believe it. I need you." She said, Niall leaning down to kiss her. Haley's legs parted as they kissed and Niall lined himself up. "Gonna go slow love. Don't know how long I'll last." He said with a hint of a smile and Haley matched it to reassure him. He began to slowly push inside her, both of them moaning. Haley's hand gripped his arm, Niall feeling her nails dig into his skin. He finally bottomed out and waited for the tenseness to leave Haley's body, kissing her neck and chest, one of his hands rubbing slow circles over her nipple. After a few minutes Haley was kissing him eagerly and moving her hips. Niall began to slowly thrust, pulling out almost all the way and then bottoming out inside her. He groaned as they moved together. "So fucking tight Hales, god it's just like I remember. Feels like heaven. Like home." He said. The words washed over Haley and she smiled. He was right, it did feel like home. It felt warm and safe and familiar and everything she needed. "You fill me so good Ni, so much better than anyone. Feels so perfect." She said, few more words exchanged between them for the next few minutes. Their lips met, Niall's tongue sweeping into her mouth and tasting her just like before. His hands roamed her body, touching every inch so he would never forget it. Haley practically lost herself in Niall, exploring him equally. Her hands drifted down his back, feeling the muscles under his sweaty skin flex as he thrusted steadily into her. Neither one of them cared about how much time was passing, only about getting reacquainted with the other. Eventually, Niall's pace started to become faster and unsteady. "Oh god hales, I'm so close baby. Been holding off as much as I can but fuck, you feel so fucking amazing." He said and Haley nodded, her breathing shallow. "I'm close too Ni, so close. Wanna come with you." She said and he nodded, reaching down to rub her clit with his thumb. Within seconds the coil in Haley snapped, her orgasm overtaking her. Niall only caught a glimpse of her face before he came too, stalling inside her and painting her walls. They called each other's names, her hand gripping his shoulder and Niall squeezing her hip. Niall collapsed onto her, seeing stars as he panted. Haley breathed deeply, her body shaking from the intensity of everything. She threaded a hand in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, combing through it gently. It took a few minutes for them both to be coherent again. "That was…everything." Niall said into her neck and she nodded. "Just like old times." She said with a smirk and he chuckled. They fell into silence for a few more minutes before Niall took a breath and spoke. "Hales…if you only want this to be a convenience thing, like before, I…I don’t think I can do that. I can't just have a few moments with you every few months. I want…everything with you. Every moment. If you only want hookups, then this was the last time." He said. Haley could feel the hesitation in his voice, he was just waiting for her to confirm what he didn't want to be true. Haley looked down at him. "Niall, I don't want just a hookup. For fuck's sake I -- I love you. I'm so fucking in love with you. I don't want this to be the last time. I want this to be the first of a lot more times. I want everything too." She said, Niall's eyes going wide. "You love me?" He said in disbelief and she nodded. Niall's face broke into a grin. "I love you too. I always have. I didn't want to scare you off by saying it." He said and they leaned in at the same time for a soft kiss, Niall smiling into her swollen lips. "Never letting you get away again." He said and Haley nodded. "I don't plan on going anywhere."

[starringemiliaclarke]

Emilia Clarke on Game of Thrones finale's shock twist: 'I stand by Daenerys'

Emilia Clarke read a paragraph in the final script for Game of Thrones.

She read it again and again. Seven times, she says, she read the words that revealed the devastating fate of Daenerys Targaryen, a character she’s portrayed on the HBO global phenomenon for nearly a decade.

“What, what, what, WHAT!?” the actress recalls thinking. “Because it comes out of f—king nowhere. I’m flabbergasted. Absolutely never saw that coming.”

It was October 2017. The actress had recently completed filming Solo: A Star Wars Story and had just returned to London following a brief vacation. She electronically received the scripts the moment she landed at Heathrow and recalls that she “completely flipped out,” turned to her traveling companion and said, “‘Oh my god! I gotta go! I gotta go!’ And they’re like, ‘You gotta get your bags!’”

Once at home, the actress prepared herself. “I got myself situated,” she says. “I got my cup of tea. I had to physically prepare the space and then begin reading them.”

Clarke swiped through pages: Daenerys arrives at Winterfell and Sansa doesn’t like her. She discovers Jon Snow is the true heir to the Iron Throne and isn’t thrilled. She fights in the battle against the Night King and survives, but loses longtime friend and protector Ser Jorah Mormont. Then her other close friend and advisor Missandei dies too. Varys betrays her. Jon Snow pulls away. Having lost half her army, two dragons, and nearly everybody she cares about, Daenerys goes full Tagaryen to win: She attacks King’s Landing and kills … thousands of civilians? Daenerys’ longtime conquest achieved, she meets with Jon Snow in the Red Keep throne room and … and then … then he …

“I cried,” Clarke says. “And I went for a walk. I walked out of the house and took my keys and phone and walked back with blisters on my feet. I didn’t come back for five hours. I’m like, ‘How am I going to do this?’”

Sitting next to Clarke on the flight, as it so happens, was Kit Harington, who plays Jon Snow. Harington deliberately hadn’t yet read the scripts so he could experience the story for the first time with all his castmates. Clarke, positively bursting with wanting to talk about her storyline, found the flight maddening. “This literally sums up Kit and I’s friendship,” she says, and sputtered: “Boy! Would you? Seriously? You’re just not?…”

At the table read, Clarke sat across from Harington so she could “watch him compute all of this.” When they got to their final scene together, recalls Harington, “I looked at Emilia and there was a moment of me realizing, ‘No, no…’”

And Clarke nodded back, sadly, ‘Yes…’

“He was crying,” Clarke says. “And then it was kind of great him not having read it.”

The main story driver of Game of Thrones’ final season is the evolution of Daenerys Targaryen from one of the show’s most-loved heroes into a destroyer of cities and would-be dictator. Author George R.R. Martin calls his saga “A Song of Ice and Fire.” Jon Snow is the stable, immovable ice of Winterfell; Daenerys the conquering, unpredictable fire of Dragonstone. After years apart, they came together in season 7. The duo fell in love, help saved the realm from a world-annihilating supernatural threat and, in the series finale, their coupling is destroyed — Daenerys perishes, while a devastated Jon Snow is banished to rejoin the Night’s Watch.

Was this ending Martin’s original plan? The author told showrunners David Benioff and Dan Weiss the intended conclusion to his unfinished novels years ago but, since then, the HBO version has made several narrative detours. The showrunners are not giving interviews about episode 6 (and told EW they plan to spend the finale offline — “drunk and far away from the Internet” as Benioff put it).

Regardless of the final season’s narrative’s origin, the Thrones writers have planned Dany’s fate for years and have foreshadowed the dark turn in the storyline. In previous seasons, producers would sometimes ask Clarke to play a scene a bit different than what she expected for a seemingly heroic character. “There’s a number of times I’ve been like: ‘Why are you giving me that note?’” Clarke says. “So yes, this has made me look back at all the notes I’ve ever had.”

After Episode 5, “The Bells,” the reaction to Dany’s “Mad Queen” turn has been explosive and frequently negative. Some critics insist Daenerys doesn’t have the capacity for such monumental evil and the twist is an example of female characters being mishandled on the series. Others say Dany’s unstable sociopathic tendencies were indeed established, but the final season moved too fast and flubbed its execution.

For Clarke, the final season arc required mapping out a series of turning points. Dany’s attack on King’s Landing might have seemed abrupt, but from the beginning of the season Daenerys has reacted with increasing anger, desperation and coldness to one setback after another, shifting the Mother of Dragons into new emotional territory that would ultimately lead to her destruction.

Sitting in her dressing room on the set of Thrones last spring, Clarke broke down Daenerys’ entire season 8 internal journey leading up to the apocalyptic King’s Landing firebombing in a single breathless monologue.

“She genuinely starts with the best intentions and truly hopes there isn’t going to be something scuttling her greatest plans,” she says. “The problem is [the Starks] don’t like her and she sees it. She goes, ‘Okay, one chance.’ She gives them that chance and it doesn’t work and she’s too far to turn around. She’s made her bed, she’s laying in it. It’s done. And that’s the thing. I don’t think she realizes until it happens — the real effect of their reactions on her is: ‘I don’t give a s—t.’ This is my whole existence. Since birth! She literally was brought into this world going, ‘Run!’ These f—kers have f—ked everything up, and now it’s, ‘You’re our only hope.’ There’s so much she’s taken on in her duty in life to rectify, so much she’s seen and witnessed and been through and lost and suffered and hurt. Suddenly these people are turning around and saying, ��We don’t accept you.’ But she’s too far down the line. She’s killed so many people already. I can’t turn this ship around. It’s too much. One by one, you see all these strings being cut. And there’s just this last thread she’s holding onto: There’s this boy. And she thinks, ‘He loves me, and I think that’s enough.’ But is it enough? Is it? And it’s just that hope and wishing that finally there is someone who accepts her for everything she is and … he f—king doesn’t.”

And losing Missandei? “There’s a number of turning points you see for Daenerys in the season, but that’s the biggest break. There’s nothing I will not do after losing Missandei and seeing the sacrifice she was prepared to make for her. That breaks her completely. There’s nothing left to making a tough choice.”

Executing Varys for treason? “She f—king warned him last season. We love Varys. I love [actor Conleth Hill]. But he changes his colors as many times as he wants. She needs to know the people who are supporting her regardless. That was my only option, essentially, is what I mean.”

Burying Cersei Lannister under the collapse of the Red Keep? “With Cersei, it’s a complete no-brainer. Lady’s a crazy motherf—ker. She’s going down.”

Yet Clarke also had another, more personal reaction to Dany’s meltdown. “I have my own feelings [about the storyline] and it’s peppered with my feelings about myself,” she admits. “It’s gotten to that point now where you read [comments about] the character you [have to remind yourself], ‘They’re not talking about you, Emilia, they’re talking about the character.”

Like many actors who have played the same role for a long time, Clarke identifies with her character and has put much of herself into the role. She believes in Daenerys’ confidence, idealism and past acts of compassion. As the actress wrote in a New Yorkeressay in March, she played the Breaker of Chains through some life-threatening personal hardships, secretly enduring two brain aneurysms during her early years on the show. “You go on set and play a badass and you walk through fire and that became the thing that saved me from considering my own mortality,” she wrote. Clarke has drawn strength from Daenerys and infused Daenerys with her strength.

“I genuinely did this, and it’s embarrassing and I’m going to admit it to you,” Clarke says. “I called my mom and—“ Clarke shifts into a tearful voice to perform the conversation as she reenacts the call: “I read the scripts and I don’t want to tell you what happens but can you just talk me off this ledge? It really messed me up.’ And then I asked my mom and brother really weird questions. They were like: ‘What are you asking us this for? What do you mean do I think Daenerys is a good person? Why are you asking us that question? Why do you care what people think of Daenerys? Are you okay?’”

“And I’m all: ‘I’m fine! … But is there anything Daenerys could do that would make you hate her?’”

During EW’s visit to Northern Ireland last March, I took a walk with co-executive producer Bryan Cogman into the dark woods near the production camp. It was around midnight and bitterly cold. Our boots scrunched on the muddy gravel and the bustling sounds of crew activity from the set slowly receded into the distance.

“Emilia has been threading that needle beautifully this season,” Cogman says. “It’s the hardest job anybody has on this show.”

As we pass crew members our voices cautiously go silent. While Dany’s Mad Queen arc was known by all, her death in the finale was a secret even among many who work on the show. Killing Daenerys was a massive and difficult move. On a show that’s introduced dozens of distinctive breakout characters, Daenerys is arguably the most easily identifiable and iconic. She is T-shirts and coffee mugs and posters and bobbleheads and memes and the name of hundreds of kids around the world with GoTfan parents; a fearless figure of female empowerment.

“I still don’t know how I feel about a lot of what happens this season and I helped write it,” Cogman says. “It’s emotionally very challenging. It’s designed to not feel good. That said, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. The best drama is the type you have to think about. There’s a dangerous tendency right now to make art and popular culture to feel safe for everybody and make everybody feel okay when watching and I don’t believe in that. The show is messy and grey and that’s where it’s always lived — from Jaime pushing a little boy out the window to Ned Stark’s death to the Red Wedding. This is the kind of story that’s meant to unsettle you and challenge you and make you think and question. I think that was George’s intent and what David and Dan wanted to do. However you feel about the final episodes of this show I don’t think anybody will ever accuse us of taking the easy way out.”

I point out Daenerys’ final season arc shifts the entire series, or at least her role in it. Upon rewatch, every Daenerys scene will now be viewed differently; the story of the rise of a villain more than a hero.

“Yes, although I don’t know if she’s a villain,” Cogman says. “This is a tragedy. She’s a tragic figure in a very Shakespearean and Greek sense. When Jon asks Tyrion [in the finale] if they were wrong and Tyrion says, ‘Ask me again in 10 years,’ I think that’s valid.”

Tyrion actor Peter Dinklage says the showrunners on set compared Dany’s dragon-bombing of King’s Landing to the U.S. dropping nuclear bombs on the Japanese cities Hiroshima and Nagasaki to decisively end World War II in 1945. “That’s what war is,” Dinklage says. “Did we make the right choices in war? How much longer would [WWII] have gone on if we didn’t make horrible decisions? We love Daenerys. All the fans love Daenerys, and she’s doing these things for the greater good. ‘The greater good’ has been in the headlines lately… when freeing everyone for the greater good you’re going to hurt some innocents along the way, unfortunately.”

Gwendoline Christie, who plays Brienne of Tarth, adds there’s another political lesson to be learned in the final season as well. “The signs have actually always been there,” Christie says of Daenerys. “And they’ve been there in ways we felt at the time were just mistakes or controversial. At this time, it’s important to question true motives. This show has always been about power and, more than ever, it’s an interesting illustration that people in pursuit of power can come in many different forms and we need to question everything.” 

Killing Daenerys also forever changes Jon Snow, leading to his circular fate: returning to serve the rest of his life at The Wall. Harington spoke about the show’s finale in a production tent on the season 8 set, his voice so cautiously low a recorder could barely pick him up. Harington explained he avoids talking about the death scene on the set, and he and Clarke came up with a secret hand signal to refer to it — touching a fist to their heart.

“I think it’s going to divide,” Harington says of the finale’s fan reaction. “But if you track her story all the way back, she does some terrible things. She crucifies people. She burns people alive. This has been building. So, we have to say to the audience: ‘You’re in denial about this woman as well. You knew something was wrong. You’re culpable, you cheered her on.’”

Harington adds he worries the final two episodes will be accused of being sexist, an ongoing criticism of GoT that has recently resurfaced perhaps more pointedly than ever before. “One of my worries with this is we have Cersei and Dany, two leading women, who fall,” he says. “The justification is: Just because they’re women, why should they be the goodies? They’re the most interesting characters in the show. And that’s what Thrones has always done. You can’t just say the strong women are going to end up the good people. Dany is not a good person. It’s going to open up discussion but there’s nothing done in this show that isn’t truthful to the characters. And when have you ever seen a woman play a dictator?”

There’s plenty of tragedy for Jon as well, he points out. “This is the second woman he’s fallen in love with who dies in his arms and he cradles her in the same way,” Harington notes. “That’s an awful thing. In some ways, Jon did the same thing to [his Wildling lover] Ygritte by training the boy who kills her. This destroys Jon to do this.”

Back in Clarke’s dressing room, the actress is preparing to film one of her final scenes on the series. Understandably, she can’t quite bring herself to feel sorry for Jon Snow.

“Um, he just doesn’t like women does he?” Clarke quips. “He keeps f—king killing them. No. If I were to put myself in his shoes I’m not sure what else he could have done aside from … oh, I dunno, maybe having a discussion with me about it? Ask my opinion? Warn me? It’s like being in the middle of a phone call with your boyfriend and they just hang up and never call you again. ‘Oh, this great thing happened to me at work today —hello?’ And that was 9 years ago…”

Clarke’s phone call metaphor is characteristically witty, and the actress has given some fascinating insight about the season as a whole. But nothing yet quite feels like the bottom, the blunt truth of how she feels about Daenerys’ fate.

“You’re about to ask if me — as Emilia — disagreed with her at any point,” Clarke intuits. “It was a f—king struggle reading the scripts. What I was taught at drama school — and if you print this there will be drama school teachers going ‘that’s bulls—t,’ but here we go: I was told that your character is right. Your character makes a choice and you need to be right with that. An actor should never be afraid to look ugly. We have uglier sides to ourselves. And after 10 years of working on this show, it’s logical. Where else can she go? I tried to think what the ending will be. It’s not like she’s suddenly going to go, ‘Okay, I’m gonna put a kettle on and put cookies in the oven and we’ll just sit down and have a lovely time and pop a few kids out.’ That was never going to happen. She’s a Targaryen.”

“I thought she was going to die,” she continues. “I feel very taken care of as a character in that sense. It’s a very beautiful and touching ending. Hopefully, what you’ll see in that last moment as she’s dying is: There’s the vulnerability — there’s the little girl you met in season 1. See? She’s right there. And now, she’s not there anymore…”

A crew member comes for Clarke and she stands up. It’s time for her to go. Clarke begins to walk away, turns around, breaks away from the staffer, and comes back.

There’s one last thing she wants you to know.

“But having said all of the things I’ve just said…” Clarke says. “I stand by Daenerys. I stand by her! I can’t not.”

Source

Emilia Clarke on Game of Thrones finale’s shock twist: ‘I stand by Daenerys’ was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

[scralettlfox-blog]

Chapter One 

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Terror Nova

Chapter Two: The Dream

She woke in the Black Valley, jolting awake with a hammering heart. The black sand beneath her feet was warm enough to feel through her combat boots. The Clochian forces were firing from the other end of the valley. Odd that she was on the ground. Valia had been a pilot in her military days. Her missions focused on sabotage and hit-and-run tactics carried out in a small, nearly undetectable one person craft. That also meant that when she went down she was alone and in enemy territory.

A bomb exploded in front of her. After years of these nightmares, she barely flinched as her ears rang and smoke filled her throat. The world flew by and she was in a trench. Screams echoed around her, the cries of agony from her fellow soldiers chief among them. Mech suit pilots stuck in crumpled exo suits, foot soldiers shot with homing bullets, and those cut with laser weapons frantically trying to save themselves.

Valia looked around her. The smoke and blood crowded her vision. Her ears rang from weapons and screams alike. This is the environment she had met T’Shan and Kylie in. T’Shan had downed her during a supply run, but not before his own ship became too damaged to fly. They’d nearly killed each other on the ground. Then, they realized the war was pointless and they didn’t want to die for it. So they had worked together to survive. They were rescued together, though T’Shan was taken prisoner. Kylie had been the one to treat her. Even defended her treatment of the enemy.

Kylie had never approved of the war. Only agreed to serve if she could treat both sides. She thought the war for Volantis One was pointless. She even turned out to be right, as Volantis 2 had been discovered after a couple years of fighting. By then, the casualties were great enough that the two peoples had to come to a treaty. All that death, for farmland that could be shared.

Valia took a step forward, perhaps to storm off. Then she was falling. She landed next to T’Shan at the ceremony where they were presented their commendations for honor during wartime. They were seen as the first to have “found peace.”

They had bonded over how much they hated those awards. T’Shan had no choice in attending, the Generals who lead the Clochian people had invited him. The first thing everyone learned about Clochian culture upon landing on Chrysalis was to never disobey the Generals. Valia could have avoided the ceremony, she had already put in her resignation by the time the Peace Accords were announced. Kylie had convinced her to go. Besides, she hadn’t wanted to let T’Shan suffer alone.

Kylie attended the Volcanis Peace Accords, which ended the war, and the Joint Planetary Agricultural Initiative ceremonies by her side. The only support she had left, once she was no longer a soldier. Kylie had also put in her resignation. They had tried to hold onto her more than Valia, though. Doctors were much more valuable than soldiers.

It was on Chrysalis that they’d had their first date. As she reminisced, the scene in front of her changed from stuffy officials giving speeches to Kylie singing offbeat in a Clochian dive bar. After a few cocktails, they had decided to stay in space. Kylie teased her about asking to go steady on the first date. She’d teased back that no one calls it “going steady” anymore.

She’d drunkenly called T’Shan about their plan to stay among the stars. He agreed almost immediately.

They hadn’t meant for it to turn into a smuggling operation. But, someone offers you enough money to sneak passed a government you don’t like in the first place…

Well, you take it.

Valia remembered the annoyed look T’Shan had on his face through the entire ceremony. His violet eyes had looked like they were trying to burn a hole in General Sh’massa’s back. Maybe he had been planning a way to get back at them the entire time.

Kylie moving towards her drew Valia out of her thoughts and back to the dream. She smiled. Kylie was stumbling, holding a glass of Clochian yasha, and moving toward her with intent. She remembered, surprisingly considering her own intoxication, that this was their first kiss.

“I don’t know how you drink that fermented…” Valia tried to remember what yasha was made out of. It flew out of her mind.

“Milk from a mountain something or other.” Kylie finished for her. She downed her drink. “I’ve had worse.”

“Not a glowing endorsement.” Valia teased.

“No, no it’s not.” Kylie agreed, a smile on her face. She leaned towards Valia. “You know what is a glowing endorsement?”

Her voice was a whisper. Valia was happy to experience a good memory for now, and let the scene play out. They both leaned in for a kiss.

Then an alarm sounded. Dream Kylie jumped away from her in alarm. It took Valia a moment to remember she was, in fact, asleep. The alarm likely meant dinner. She woke up to a very real Kylie toying with the alarm on her gauntlet and grumbling in irish. She was still pressed into Valia’s side, though a bit more twisted than she likely would have been while asleep.

“I thought you had work to do?” Valia rolled completely to her side to hug the doctor to her. Kylie let out a contented sigh that warmed her heart.

“I finished an hour ago.” Kylie kissed her shoulder before sitting up. “You looked upset, darling. Want to talk about it?”

Kylie could always tell when something was bothering Valia, no matter how much she tried to hide it. Valia loved that about her. Did make it hard to hold everything in until she exploded, which was her normal way to handle emotions.

“I was dreaming about the war, again.” Valia entwined their fingers, distracting herself by drawing patterns on Kylie’s skin.

“I’m surprised you still get those dreams.” Kylie rubbed her forehead. “I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t remember my dreams.”

“I would say I wished it never happened, but some good things did come from it.” Valia nudged her before letting go of her hand and standing.

“Like T’Shan?” Kylie teased, following her out of bed.

“Exactly.” Valia rolled her eyes. “You know, I try to be sweet.”

“I know.” Kylie assured her. “But you’re easy to tease, love.”

Luna’s voice over the intercom drew their attention.

“Captain, Jack wishes to inform you that dinner will be served in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Luna.” Valia fixed her hair. “Tell him we’ll be right there.” “He also wanted me to tell you that the ‘new kid’ might need a hero.”

“I knew he would be trouble.” Valia mumbled. Kylie took her hand and lead her towards the mess hall.

“Let’s go save the wee lad before Amara eats him.”

Valia let herself be led on the short walk to the mess hall. Most of the crew hadn’t arrived yet. Only the officer’s tended to arrive early to meals, which was fine by Valia. She liked the crew but too many people and she felt suffocated.

T’Shan and Allen were at the furthest table from them. Kylie weaved her way through tables and crew members. When they reached the table, she let go of Valia’s hand. Jack waved as he ran by, curly hair bouncing with each step. Helper bots, a gift from Valia the last time they’d finished a big job, tried to keep up. Their frantic beeping almost sounded worried for their master.

“Captain, hope you’re feeling well enough to eat.” Jack ran past them again, beeping bots in tow. Before Valia could answer, he was gone again.

“I’m starting to think he takes the helper bots presence as a challenge.” Kylie watched as he ran by, shaking her head. “He needs to slow down.”

“Good luck getting him to.” T’Shan commented through a mouth full of toasted nuts. “I don’t think he’s taken a break since he was a little kid.”

Valia took a seat to T’Shan’s left and Kylie sat next to her. T’Shan acknowledged them both with a smile and passed a small bowl of nuts towards them. Valia took a handful before observing Allen. He still looked uncomfortable, though much less so. Perhaps Amara had calmed down. Or T’Shan had stuck to the poor boy’s side this entire time.

“So, you’re the unfortunate wee suit who is with our crew a bit, yeah?” Kylie asked. Though he was confused, Allen nodded. “Great to meet you. I’m Kylie McBride, crew calls me Cure, though. I’m the ship’s doctor.”

“Best in the galaxy.” Valia added.

“She’s biased.” T’Shan commented.

“Why wee?” Allen asked. He looked to T’Shan for help, but the Clochian simply shrugged.

“Apparently, everything is ‘wee’ in Ireland. That’s where she’s from.” Jack answered as he approached the table. He gave out utensils and cups for the officers that would be showing up.

“I think she called you a ‘wee suit’ because you’re an apprentice, though.”

“Mhm.” Kylie affirmed through a mouthful. “Not a full suit, yet.”

“That’s...odd.” It seemed like Allen struggled to find the right word. “It’s like I’m some kind of baby animal.”

“Wee lamb.” Kylie agreed, smiling at the poor boy. She was going to torture him.

“Or, like a turtle coming out of it’s shell.” Valia suggested. She should help him a little.

“Don’t turtles stay in their shells? It’s part of their body.” T’Shan asked. He promptly turned to a helper bot to order a drink. “

“Then where does the phrase ‘coming out of your shell’ come from?” Valia countered. The helper bot came for her order next and she placed both her own and Kylie’s.

“Hermit crabs? They leave their shells and find a new one as they grow.” Kylie suggested. She patted the helper bot on the head as it passed her. It let out a happy beep before moving on to Allen.

“I think it is about turtles. When they’re scared they hide in their shells. They still come out in a way, though.” Allen added, a thoughtful expression on his face. An insistent beep got him to turn and place his order.

“Don’t we all.” Valia quipped. Kylie elbowed her in response.

“Not funny.

“Yes, I am.” Valia countered. Kylie just rolled her eyes.

Allen smiled and nearly let out a laugh at their exchange. Valia thought he seemed like a nice kid. Despite his relations.

The rest of the crew and the officers filed in as they continued talking. Amara glared at Allen as she walked past, but otherwise he wasn’t paid any mind. When all the officers were gathered Valia decided that introductions were in order. She clapped her hands to get everyones attention. The table went silent.

“Alright, Allen. Now that everyone’s here we can get some introductions out of the way.” Valia started by gesturing to Skull, who had taken a seat next to Kylie. “You’ve met Skullcrusher, or Skull. He’s Novarrian, four-armed and dangerous.”

“Very dangerous.” The red hulk of muscle agreed.

“Almost as dangerous as me.” Valia joked, nearly elbowing T’Shan who spit out his drink in laughter.

“Agreed.” Skull conceded, before turning back to his mill and chugging half a pint.

“He’s our security officer, for obvious reasons.” Valia gestured even further down her row, where she could see a spotted tail next to Skull. “Next to him is Amara Lost, our resident Armaxian.”

“We’ve met.” Amara leaned forward. Valia could see her spotted fur, red eyes, and the collar that became fashionable among Armaxians following their introduction to humans.

“Engineering officer, right?” Allen asked. After Amara nodded he looked between the two very different felines. “Novarrians and Armaxians share a common ancestor, right? Do you get along?”

Skull answered “No” at the same time Amara answered “When we need to.”

“Armaxians like to say that it was the Novarrian ancestor who led to the downfall of their shared, original civilization. And vice versa.” T’Shan explained to a confused Allen. Valia had to clap her hands again when it looked like Amara and Skull were about to fight it out.

“Anyway, at the end of the row is Squid. They are Varmaxi and no, Squid is not their real name. Varmaxi don’t have names so much as feelings attached to them as a being. They serve as the Morale Officer.”

“What is a Morale Officer?” Allen asked, turning to Squid.

Squid answered in sign language as well as telepathy, as he did not have Allen’s permission to connect their minds yet someone else would likely need to translate.

I monitor crew emotions and well being. Normally, the First Mate does that but my talents are a bit more suited. The Captain created the position for me.

Squid’s various tentacles were frantically signing the symbols in Intergalatic Sign Language as he projected the information. Their signs were a little rusty. Valia was preparing to translate when, to her shock, Allen started to sign back. He spoke along with it, though he had to know it wasn’t necessary.

“I wish we had officers like that on our company ships.” Allen responded. “Maybe I could create the position if I get high enough in the company.”

“You know ISL?” T’Shan asked, clearly as surprised as Valia. Squid’s bioluminescent patches were glowing happily, so he clearly enjoyed the surprise.

“I dated a Leorian who was deaf.” Allen explained, continuing to sign along. “He taught me so I wouldn’t need to wear those translator contacts.”

“You don’t have to sign everything, they can hear you.” Valia explained. “Though, I’m sure Squid appreciates the gesture.”

“They aren’t used to people outside our crew being so suggesting.” Shoto spoke up from his seat across from T’Shan and next to Allen. Then he offered his hand to Allen. “Shoto Arakawa. Equipment Officer. Fancy way of saying I make sure everything is in stock.”

“And that it gets where it needs to go when the time comes. Like a pirate attack.” T’Shan added.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Allen shook his hand.

“Kids got manners.” Shoto cracked his knuckles, a nervous habit he had in social situations apparently. “Business world is going to eat him up.”

Allen looked like he wanted to respond, if the frown was any indication. Landon beat him to it by lightly smacking Shoto upside the head.

“Don’t listen to this jerk.” Landon leaned forward and waved at Allen. “I’m Landon, by the way. Operations Officer. I keep everything running, despite other peoples best efforts.”

“He also makes sure everyone gets paid, is up to date on all their paperwork, and a bunch of other paperwork.” Valia added.

“He and Kylie are basically the parents of the ship, making sure the rest of us don’t die.” Jack finally arrived, distributed food, and took his seat next to Landon.

Kylie and Landon both took offense to that. It lead to a quick argument between half the table about who was and wasn’t responsible. Valia focused on her dinner.

“You lot sure are lively tonight.” Jack smiled after the noise calmed down. He reached his hand in front of Landon and Shoto for Allen to shake. “Jack Grimes, Nutrition Officer. I keep everyone from starving. If any of these goons get on your nerves, you can hang out with me in the kitchen.”

“I may have to take you up on that.” Allen answered as he shook Jack’s hand. “I really would, the only other sanctuary is with Luna up on the bridge. She’s not great at communication.” Kylie suggested. She turned to Amara. “Can you do something about that, like upgrade her? Maybe add a humor module?”

“She’s an android not a gossip.” Amara growled. “You shouldn’t be such a - what do you call it? - whinker.”

“It’s whinger.” Kylie corrected. “And how dare you.”

Amara and Kylie continued their rather ridiculous debate as the helper bots began serving dessert. Kylie took a break from arguing to order herself a cup of tea. A look from Valia had her requesting decaf. When the helper bot came around to her she ordered a cup of green tea and some cookies. They were going to go bad soon, if they weren’t already stale. Once the bot happily ran away, Valia opened comms up on her gauntlet and contacted Luna.

“ETA to Omega Prime?” She asked, not bothering with the pleasantries Amara hadn’t programmed in anyway.

“We are 5 hours out, if speed stays consistent, Captain.” Luna responded quickly. Valia thanked her and closed the comms. Allen was looking like he wanted to ask a question.

“Staring isn’t polite, kid.” Valia ran her fingers through her hair. Allen opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the helper bots delivering their orders.

“He’s probably wondering about Omega Prime.” Kylie suggested, before stealing one of Valia’s cookies. She playfully batted her hand away, though it only earned her a grin.

“Never heard of it or never been?” Valia asked, before sipping her tea.

“Everyone’s heard of Omega Prime.” Allen shifted in his seat. “But I was told it would be unseemly for an officer in the corporation to be seen there.”

T’Shan snorted at the last comment and shot a look towards Valia and Kylie. They all knew that the people who loved Omega Prime the most were suits.

“Well, Omega Prime is everyones paradise. Stay out of the shady bits and you’ll be fine.” Kylie sent Allen a reassuring smile, before continuing to pilfer Valia’s cookies.

“I thought it was a giant den of crime?” Allen commented.

“That too.” Valia nodded. “But, it also has some of the best restaurants and entertainment in the galaxy. Criminals enjoy the finer things in life, too, ya know.”

“There are also a lot of unpleasant things. Just stay in the right districts, you’ll be fine.” Kylie waved her hand dismissively. “Not like T’Shan will let you get into trouble. He’s practically adopted you at this point.”

“Not by choice.” T’Shan commented, then turned to Allen. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Allen said, offended.

“Shoto and I can take the kid off your hands.” Landon offered. He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “We’ll show him all the safe and fun spots. Like the Virtual Arcade.”

“Did you just volunteer me?” Shoto asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you not want to go to the arcade with me?” Landon asked, looking a bit like a kicked puppy.

“You should definitely do that, if for nothing else then to watch Landon tear it up on a rhythm game.” Kylie suggested. “It’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, but Shoto and I have to continue our Blood Warrior V challenge first.” Landon lightly smacked Allen on the shoulder. “It’s this awesome fighting game. We play each other every chance we can get. It’s 65-64 right now, and I’m in the lead.”

“What?” Shoto interrupted. “No, I’m at 65 and you’re at 64.”

“You losing your memory in your old age?” Landon suggested. “I was winning.”

“I think you’re the one getting old.” Shoto grumbled.

“So, what were you planning to do T’Shan?” Allen turned to the Clochian, likely unsure of how to react to Landon and Shoto.

“Probably hitting up the shooting range.” Jack suggested. He had been reading a book on his gauntlet through most of the arguing, but never missed a chance to tease the First Mate.

“Actually, I was thinking of going to the Opera.” T’Shan countered. He turned to Allen. “You’re welcome to join me. It’s a galaxy renowned production of the Lonely Soldier.”

“I think I’ll stick with the arcade.” Allen decided. Landon gave him a hug from the side and assured him he wouldn’t regret it.

“Are you willing seeing an opera that’s set in a war you fought in?” Valia asked, shaking her head.

“It’s supposed to be very well written.” T’Shan defended his decision. “Besides, it’s probably based on someone we knew.”

“Yeah, that’s why I wouldn’t want to see it.” Valia mumbled into her tea.

“Why?” Allen asked. “I remember watching you both receive your commendations, you’re war heroes.”

Valia couldn’t stop herself from glaring, at least until she felt bad for making Allen sink down in his seat.

“That opera’s main character is a ghost of a fallen soldier trying to get his comrades to stop the fighting.” Kylie explained, much more kindly than Valia was capable of. She had a tight grip on her tea cup and was staring into the liquid as if it held the secrets to the universe. “It hits a tad too close to home.”

“Sorry.” Allen looked both apologetic and extremely uncomfortable. “I had no idea.”

“It’s not your fault.” T’Shan assured him. He put a hand on the boys shoulder and squeezed. “I suppose we are still fighting demons, just in our own ways.”

“On that note, I think I’m going to go sleep some more.” Valia smiled apologetically at Allen. She drained her cup, stood, and held a hand out to help Kylie up. “Care to join me?”

“I suppose.” Kylie teased.

The pair waved goodbye to the rest of the officers. They passed by some of the crew on their way out and made sure to exchange pleasantries. A quick walk and a quicker elevator ride had them up in the officer’s quarters. The Captain’s quarters were a few stairs away.

Valia enjoyed her quarters. It had it’s own starshield where she could watch the galaxy pass her by. It was also spacious enough that she didn’t feel cramped. Her room here was much better than the one she’d had on their previous ship, the Vega. That one had been destroyed by the pirates they’d taken this ship from. A win, depending on your definition.

“You aren’t actually going to sleep are you?” Kylie asked, making herself comfortable on the large round bed Valia had obtained from a client who had gone back on a deal. He’d unwillingly provided most of the nicer things on the ship.

“Too awake now.” Valia responded. She took a seat in an armchair by the starshield. “You go ahead, liebchen.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Kylie promptly spread out across the bed and wrapped the blankets tightly around herself. Within minutes her breath had evened out, indicating she was asleep.

It seems Valia wasn’t the only one overworking herself.

She smiled at Kylie before pulling up a search on her gauntlet. It may be last minute, but she could still plan a nice anniversary with their small advance.

The stars and planets and endless black void sped by as she planned, barely paying attention to the galaxy.

To be continued...

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 14: The Others (Transcript) - 7th September 2015

tw: death of children, childhood illness

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

No one likes to be alone. Even introverts need to come out for air every now and then, and experience human contact. Being around others has a way of calming our souls, and imparting a bit of safety, even if only in theory. But sometimes, even crowds of people and scores of friends can’t fight the crippling feeling that we are, in the end, isolated and alone. Humans have become very good at chasing away that feeling, though. When darkness threatens to cut us off from the world around us, we discovered fire, and then electrical lights. We use technology today to help us stay connected to friends and relatives who live thousands of miles away, and yet the feeling of loneliness grows deeper every year. We’ve learnt to harness tools to fight it, though. In ancient cultures, in the days before Facebook and the printing press, if you can fathom that, society fought the feeling of being alone with story. Each culture developed a set of tales, a mythology and surrounding lore, that filled in the cracks. These stories explained the unexplainable, they filled the dark night with figures and shapes, and they gave people, lonely or not, something else to talk about – something other. Some tales were there to teach; some preached morals through analogy; others offered a word of warning or a lesson that would keep children safe. In the end, though, all of them did something that we couldn’t do on our own: they put us in our place. They offer perspective. It might seem like we’re at the top of the food chain, but what if we’re not? From the ancient hills of Iceland and Brazil, to the black-top streets of urban America, our fascination with the “others” has been a constant, unrelenting obsession. But while most stories only make us smile at the pure fantasy of it all, there are some that defy dismissal. They leave us with more questions than answers, and they force us to come to grips with a frightening truth: if we’re not alone in this world, then we’re also not safe. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

In Greek Mythology, we have stories of creatures that were called the Pygmy. The Pygmies were a tribe of diminutive humans, smaller than the Greeks, who were often encountered in battle, and these stories have been around for thousands of years. We even have images of Pygmy battles on pottery found in tombs dating back to the 5th century BC. 1st century Roman historian, Pliny the Elder, recorded that the Pygmies were said to go on annual journeys from their homeland in the mountains. They would arm themselves for battle and climb onto their rams and goats, and ride down to the sea, where they would hunt the cranes that nested at the shore. In South America, there are tales of creatures called the Alux, a figure of Mayan mythology. They said to be between one to two meters tall, hairless, and dressed in traditional Mayan clothing. Like the Pukwudgies of the Native American tribes of North America, the Alux are said to be troublemakers, disrupting crops and wreaking havoc. According to tradition, the Alux will move into an area every time a new farm is established. Mayan farmers were said to build small, two-storey houses in the middle of their cornfields, where these creatures would live. For the first seven years, the Alux would help the corn grow and patrol the fields at night. Once those seven years were up, however, they turned on the farmers, who would put windows and doors on the little houses to trap the creatures inside. The ancient Picts of the Orkney Islands, off the north-eastern tip of Scotland, spoke of a creature they called the Trow, or sometimes, the Drow. They were small, humanoid beings, described as being ugly and shy, who lived in the mounds and rock outcroppings in the surrounding woods. Like many of the other legends of small people around the world, the Trow were said to be mischievous. In particular, they were said to love music - so much, in fact, that it was thought that they kidnapped musicians and took them back to their homes so that they could enjoy the music there. In addition, it was common for the people of Shetland to bless their children each Yule day as a way of protecting them from the Trow. Nearby, in Ireland, there are tales of similar creatures, small and hairless, called the Púca. The Púca are said to stand roughly 3ft tall, and like the Trow, they too live in large, stone outcroppings. According to legend, they can cause trouble and chaos within a community, so much so that the local people have developed traditions meant to keep them happy.In Country Down, for instance, farmers still to this day leave behind a “Púca’s share” when they harvest their crops. It’s an offering to the creatures, to keep them happy and ward off their mischief. But the Púca isn’t unique to Ireland. In Cornish mythology, there’s a small, humanlike creature known as the Bucca, a kind of hobgoblin. Wales is home to a similar creature with a reputation as a trickster goblin. It was said to knock on doors and then disappear before people inside opened them. And in France, a common term for stone outcroppings and megalithic structures is pouquelée. Oh, and if you’re a fan of Shakespeare’s play “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, you might remember the character Puck, the clever and mischievous elf. The name Puck, it turns out, is an Anglicization of the mythical creature, Púca, or Puck. I’ll stop, but I think you get the point. There doesn’t seem to be a culture in the world that hasn’t invented a story about smaller people, the “others” that live at the periphery of our world. It’s not surprising, either – many of these cultures have a deep history of invading nations, and that kind of past can cause anyone to spend a lot of time looking over their shoulder. These stories are deep, and often allegorical; they mean something, sure, but they aren’t rooted in reality. No one has captured a Púca or taken photographs of an Alux stepping out of its tiny, stone building. But that doesn’t mean there’s no evidence. In fact, there are some legends that come a lot closer to the surface than you might have thought possible - and that might not be a good thing.

The Shoshone tribe of Native Americans that live in the Rocky Mountains have been there for thousands of years. Their lands span much of the countryside around the Rockies, but they also built seasonal homes, up high in the mountains, sometimes 10,000ft above sea level. One of the Shoshone legends is that of a tribe of tiny people, known as the Nimerigar. One story tells of a man who rode up a small trail into the Wind River Mountains to check on his cattle. While he was travelling the narrow path, one of these creatures stepped out and stopped him. This was his trail, the little man said, and the rancher couldn’t use it anymore. The man ignored the tiny person and continued on toward his cattle, and this angered the Nimerigar. The tiny creature took aim with his bow and fired a poisonous arrow at the man’s arm. From that day on, the story goes, the rancher was never able to use his arm again. The Nimerigar are just myth, or at least that’s what most people think. But in 1932, that perception changed, when two prospectors, Cecil Mayne and Frank Carr, found a mummy in a cave in the Pedro Mountains of Wyoming. They said it had been sitting upright on a ledge in the cave, as if it had been waiting for them. The mummy was small (honestly, it’s only about six inches tall), but had the proportions of an adult. The two men had found it on a ledge, sitting upright, mummified by the dry Wyoming climate. After its discovery, the mummy changed hands a number of times. Photographs were taken, as well as an x-ray, but by 1950, it had vanished, never to be seen again. In 1994, after an episode of Unsolved Mysteries asked viewers to help them locate the missing mummy, a second mummy came to light. This one was a female, with blonde hair, but it was roughly the same size, and also from a mountain cave. This time, medical experts were able to study it, and what they discovered was shocking: it wasn’t an adult after all, it was an infant that had been born with a condition known as Anencephaly, which explained the adult-like proportions of the body and head. Like the first mummy, this second one disappeared shortly after the examination, and the family who owned it vanished with it.

Halfway around the world, in Indonesia, there are stories of small, humanlike creatures called the Ebu gogo. Even though their name sounds a lot like a Belinda Carlisle cover band, these creatures were said to strike fear in the hearts of the neighbouring tribes. According to the story, the Ebu gogo had flat noses and wide mouths, and spoke in short grunts and squawks. They were known to steal food from the local villages, and sometimes even children, and apparently one of these incidents from the 1800s led to an extermination. The Nage people of Flores, Indonesia, claimed that generations ago, the Ebu gogo stole some of their food, and the Nage people chased them to a cave, where they burnt them all alive - all but one pair, male and female, that managed to escape into the woods. The stories are full of imagination and fantasy, but in the end, they might hint at something real. In 2003, archaeologists discovered human remains in a Flores cave. The remains, dubbed Homo Floresiensis, weren’t ordinary, though. They were small adults, very small in fact, at just one meter tall. They were nicknamed hobbits, if that helps you picture them. Small people, found in a cave near the Nage tribe of Flores. It seems like the stories were proving true. The trouble was the age of the remains. The oldest skeletons clocked in at around 38,000 years old, and the youngest at about 13,000. In other words, if the Nage actually had attacked a tribe of tiny people, it had happened a lot more than a handful of generations ago. Unless you believe them, that is – in that case, the stories hint at something darker, that the Ebu gogo were in fact real, that they might still inhabit the forests of Flores, and that ultimately, the stories were telling the truth. It sounds enticing. In fact, I think anyone would be fascinated by such a notion. Unless, that is, these stories were about something in your own backyard.

On the night of April 21st, 1977, a man named Billy Bartlett was driving through the town of Dover, Massachusetts, with two of his friends. On Farm Street, they began to drive past a low, rough stone wall that was well-known to the locals. As they did, Billy noticed movement at the edge of his vision, and turned to see something on the wall unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was a creature, with a body the size of a child’s, long, thin limbs, elongated fingers and an oversized, melon-shaped head. Billy claimed it was hairless, and that the skin was textured. He even reported that it had large, orange-coloured eyes. Billy later sketched a picture of the thing he had seen, and then added a note to the bottom of the page: “I, Bill Bartlett, swear on a stack of Bibles that I saw this creature”. A whole stack of Bibles, you say. Well, alright then. Something like this probably happens every year – somewhere in the world, someone sees something weird, their mind twists their memories, and all of a sudden, they think they encountered Abraham Lincoln in a hot tub. But Billy’s story had some added credibility. You see, just two hours after he saw… whatever it was that he saw, 15-year-old John Baxter was walking home from his girlfriend’s house, about a mile from Farm Street. He claimed that he saw something walking down the street toward him. According to him, it was roughly the size and shape of a small child, and when the figure noticed him, though, it bolted for the woods. John, being a highly intelligent teenager with powerful decision-making skills, decided that midnight was the perfect time to chase something strange into the woods, and so he followed after it. What happened next was a literal, over-the-river-and-through-the-woods chase. When Baxter finally stopped to catch his breath, though, he looked up to see that the creature was standing beside a tree just a few yards away from him, watching him. That’s the moment when common sense took over, and John ran for his life. Later that night, he drew a sketch of what he had seen. He also told the police about it. He described a creature that had the body of a child, a large, oval-shaped head, thin arms and legs and long fingers. On their own, each of these sightings could have been easily dismissed by the authorities, but together, they presented a powerful case. Still, any chance of their similarity being labelled a coincidence vanished less than 24 hours later. 15-year-old Abby Brabham and 18-year-old Will Taintor were out for a drive on Springdale Avenue in Dover, when they saw something at the side of the road, near a bridge. It was on all fours, but both of the claim they got a very good look at it, and each of them described the creature as hairless and child-sized, with an overly large head and long, thin limbs.

Three separate events, spanning two nights, three unique sightings, yet one seemingly impossible description, each captured in eerily similar sketches. There were small discrepancies regarding the colour of the creature’s eyes, but outside of that, the consistency was astounding. Each of these eyewitnesses had seen something they couldn’t explain, and each of them seemed to have observed the same thing. What I find most fascinating, though, is that nearly 30 years later, in 2006, the Boston Globe interviewed Billy Bartlett, and he’s never wavered from his story. He’s experienced embarrassment and ill treatment because of it over the years, of course, but though he’s clearly transformed from a teenager who saw something into a responsible, middle-aged adult, that maturity hasn’t chased his testimony away, no matter how fantastical it might sound. They’ve called it the “Dover Demon” ever since that week in 1977. Others have since come forward with similar sightings. One local man, Mark Sennott, said he had heard rumours in his high school in the early 70s of something odd in the woods. Sennott even claimed that he and some friends observed something odd near Channing Pond in 1972 that fits the description from these later reports. Channing Pond, mind you, is right beside Springdale Avenue, where Taintor and Brabham said they saw their Dover Demon. Clearly, something was in those woods. Like most legends, this one will continue to cause debate and speculation. There have been no more sightings since 1977, but even still, the Dover Demon has left an indelible mark on the town and the surrounding area.

It’s true, we don’t like to be alone, but I think in the process of creating the stories that have kept us company for centuries, humanity has also created convenient excuses. All of these human-like creatures have acted as a sort of stand-in for human behaviour and accountability. In an effort to absolve ourselves from the horrible things we’ve done, we seem to instinctively invent other beings on which we can set the blame. But what if the others really were there, long before we wove them into our stories? What if they were less an invention, and more a co-opting of something we didn’t fully understand? Perhaps in our effort to shift the blame, we altered the source material a bit too much, and in doing so we buried the truth under a mountain of myth. There have been countless theories surrounding the 1977 sightings in Dover. Some think it was a type of extra-terrestrial known as a “grey”; others have actually suggested that it was just a baby moose. I know, that does seem like an odd way to explain it – only two moose sightings were recorded in Massachusetts in 1977, and both of those were out in the western part of the state, far from Dover. Add in the fact that a yearling moose weighs more than 600lbs and I think that it’s clear that this theory just won’t hold up. But there’s a different and more textured theory to consider. If you remember, Billy Bartlett saw the Dover Demon sitting on an old stone wall on Farm Street. Well, just beyond that wall is a large, stone outcropping that the locals have always called “The Polka Stone”. Some think that the stone’s nickname is a mispronunciation of a different word, though. The original name, they say, was the Pooka Stone. It could just be folklore, perhaps the tall tales of an early Irish settler, told to a group of children around the foot of an enormous rock. Unfortunately, we’ll never know for sure, but if you really want to see for yourself, you’re always welcome to head over to Dover, and take a drive down Farm Street. The wall, and the woods beyond, are still there, still dark, and still ominous. Just be careful if you travel there at night – you never know what you might see at the edge of your headlights.

This episode of Lore was produced by me, Aaron Mahnke. You can learn more about me and the show, as well as info about live events, episode transcripts and more, over at lorepodcast.com, and be sure to follow along on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram, @lorepodcast. This episode of Lore was made possible by you fine listeners, [Insert sponsor break]. And finally, your ratings and reviews on iTunes make all the difference for this show, so please take a moment today to fill one out. You can find links to help you do that at lorepodcast.com/support. If you want to help this show even more, Lore is on Patreon – that’s a platform that allows fans to support their favourite creations with monthly donations. And if you want more Lore in your life, backers at the $5 level get access to two extra, ad-free, brand new episodes each month that aren’t in this podcast feed. They’re short and sweet, but they’re fully produced and beautiful to listen to. Of course, I’m biased, but you’ll have to take my word for it. Just visit patreon.com/lorepodcast to sign up today and start enjoying new Lore episodes. Thanks for listening.

[omdaily10]

PLEASE DON'T LET ME GO

Writers: Olly Murs, Claude Kelly and Steve Robson

Producers: FutureCut, Steve Robson

Album: Olly Murs

Release Date: 29/08/2010

B-Side: 'This One's For The Girls' (Writers: Olly Murs, James Bryan, George Astasio, Jason Pebworth, Jon Shave / Producers: The Invisible Men)

Chart Positions: #1 (UK), #2 (Scotland), #5 (Ireland), #31 (Belgium), #35 (Slovakia)

Certifications: Gold (UK, 400k)

And so, from here, we begin our story. Or rather, we begin eight months before that on Sunday, 13th December 2009. 16.2 million watched the final of that year's series of ITV talent show The X Factor, as Olly Murs, a 26 year old call centre worker from Witham, Essex, finished second place in an epic battle for a multi-million pound recording contract and instant superstardom, as affable Geordie with voice of an angel, Joe McElderry, took the grand prize home (except the other crucial element afforded to the winner, namely that year's Christmas number one, with a cookie cutter cover version of Miley Cyrus' hit 'The Climb', was denied of him by a group of angry hardcore rock fans downloading a 15 year old track by Rage Against The Machine. So, if anything, you might say it was a dodged bullet).

X Factor history, and reality TV generally, had taught us up to that point, that beyond the smoke, fanfare and mirrors of the climaxes of these shows, only in very select cases did a long-term career come for the finalists - winners or not. True, Leona Lewis had become the global, worldwide star the show had long been trying to make, and previous series’ finalists JLS and Alexandra Burke had emerged to chart topping singles, mass hysteria and adoration. But most of them usually wound up dropped after the inevitable third or fourth single/difficult second album flopped, to be found thereafter performing on the Portsmouth to Bilbao ferry, or doing panto opposite Orville the duck and disgraced comedian Justin Lee Collins.

Most of them didn't go onto be, as Olly set out in his mission statement on that first audition, 'to be famous, to sell records, and be an international superstar'. But even though he’d been in the front rooms of millions of viewers for a whole three months, no one seemed confident that this cheeky but charming Essex lad was going to become one of the biggest British male solo artists of his generation. Simon Cowell, who was Olly’s mentor in the ‘Over 25s’ category on the show, said that they had gone in with a mission to win. Speaking in 2010, Cowell said: ‘When you’ve lost, words don’t mean an awful lot … And then the next day, I had [Epic Records’ boss] Nick Raphael, who’d signed JLS on the phone, saying “I want Olly”. Perfect.’ Speaking that same year, Nick said: ‘When you meet him, you like him, and like how he is around other people, and it’s very hard for us to find artists who you can like easily.’

Olly finally signed the dotted line on his £1m record deal with Epic in February 2010, just before embarking on The X Factor national arena tour that all the contestants of the previous series appeared on. Nick, along with his long time collaborative A&R partner Jo Charrington, who’d overseen the development and launch not only of JLS, but also Jay-Z, Another Level, Blue, Paloma Faith, and then later on, Sam Smith and 5 Seconds Of Summer, envisaged Olly being his own artist, and to appeal to as broad an audience as possible by taking an active role in his own music and artistry, and not just releasing the stock album of covers on Mother’s Day to remind Doris in Leighton Buzzard of who he was before she moved on with the rest of The X Factor’s audience to the next thing.

Olly was quickly dispatched to writing sessions with several teams and established songwriters and producers. Among these were two men who have been a part of over 50% of the songs we’re going to meet along our journey through his career: New York born and bred superhit writer, Claude Kelly, and top pop producer Steve Robson. Between them, they’d written or produced countless chart-topping singles and albums for everyone, from Whitney Houston to Take That.

Whilst the search for the sound of his first musical offerings to the world got underway, the cool but contemporary likes of Jason Mraz and Jack Johnson had been topping the charts, and a lilting, reggae influenced pop song by an unknown Australian writer, called ‘Feel Free’, was demoed in early sessions. Although unreleased to this day, sources suggested at the time that it was not a million miles away from Johnson’s own ‘Sitting, Waiting, Wishing’ or Mraz’s ‘I’m Yours’. Olly immediately knew that this was a sound that reflected his personality – upbeat, fun and laidback – and that this was the direction he wanted to go in.

As an introductory record, ‘Please Don’t Let Me Go’ might seem like a strange choice with hindsight, certainly compared to later records of Olly’s we’ll meet, being as it is a plea to a former lover not to end things with the hapless, lovelorn soul in the song who’s ‘heart is b-b-beating double time’. Although it does carry a lot of the tropes key to a debut release by a mainstream pop artist. It has an irresistible, catchy chorus with a strong melody. And, at a time when the charts were full of EDM and futuristic, bombastic artists that were worshipped like other worldly creatures, it immediately stood out when it came on the radio.

And then there’s the video. The ‘gate-crashing a party as introduction to a brand-new artist’ trope of pop videos has been utilised for decades – remember the Spice Girls’ video for ‘Wannabe’? At a posh summer garden party at a sprawling country pile, Olly turns up on a Moped adorned in a Harrington jacket, grandad shirt, shades and trilby. If Terry McCann, the title character of 80s TV show Minder had been a popstar, one imagines that Olly in the ‘Please Don’t Let Me Go’ video would’ve been the end result.

It’s a clever angle for his first video, because it establishes him outside of his telly roots enough as the relatable underdog taking his first steps into the sprawling country piles and excess that represents the pop industry. It was very different to what was out there, some more toffy nosed might say it was uninvited, but over the song’s duration, he gradually charms its guests (read: we the listeners) into acceptance. Which upon its release at the end of summer 2010, is precisely what Olly achieved with this single. Locked in a chart battle for number one with Katy Perry, one of the biggest and most outlandish popstars of all in 2010, and as big as pop music got at that time – and also crucially, the polar opposite of Olly – sales for the single went through the roof, and it landed straight in at number one in the UK.

For a first single, it does what an introduction should do – announce the artist in just over three minutes, but to leave just enough to have the listener wanting more. A lot of the sensibilities in ‘Please Don’t Let Me Go’ continue to be common features of what makes an Olly Murs record instantly recognisable, as we shall see in the coming weeks. And with ten weeks on the chart, and his first gold record to his name, as well as hitting the charts in four other countries, it was clear that the public wouldn’t be letting go of him anytime soon.

OTHER THOUGHTS

‘This One’s For The Girls’, the song’s B-side, is a fan favourite, and it’s not hard to see why. It’s a good time party track celebrating his love of ‘the girls all around the world’, with a sound more than a little indebted to that of early Jackson 5. Jon Shave, who’d previously worked with top pop producer Brian Higgins at Xenomania, and two former members of 00s indie band Orson had a big hand in the production of the song.

[frontproofmedia]

Demetrius Andrade Defends WBO Middleweight Title Against Jason Quigley On Nov 19

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Published: October 05, 2021

Demetrius Andrade will top a World title quadruple-header as he defends his WBO World Middleweight against Jason Quigley at the SNHU Arena in Manchester, New Hampshire on Friday, November 19, live worldwide on DAZN.

TICKETS WILL GO ON SALE THIS WEEK – FULL DETAILS TO BE RELEASED

Andrade (30-0 18 KOs) puts his crown on the line for the fifth time and the Rhode Island star will be looking for a statement win as he hunts the unification blockbusters with his fellow belt holders at 160lbs. The 33-year-old, who picked up the vacant strap in his first fight with Eddie Hearn in Boston in October 2018, will make it five straight fights with European challengers when he steps through the ropes against Quigley. Quigley (19-1 14 KOs) moved into prime position to land a World title shot in May by beating Golden Boy stablemate Shane Mosley Jr by majority decision in a thriller in Las Vegas, and the former amateur star becomes the second Irishman to challenge ‘Boo Boo’ after Luke Keeler took on the WBO ruler in Miami in January 2020. “November 19, it’s me again,” said Andrade. “Jason Quigley, world rated, good amateur pedigree, decent skills, comes to fight, and hats off to him, he’s actually willing to step in the ring with me, which you can’t say for any of these other so-called top guys. On November 19 though I show him that there are levels to this game. Just keep winning, that’s all I can do. Go in there, handle my business, do my job, look sensational, come out healthy, and then it’s onto the next. If you have a belt at 160 or 168 lbs, let’s go. Put the politics aside, have your people call Eddie. Let’s get down to business. Charlo, stop running your mouth, making up excuse after excuse. You’re a fighter, let’s fight bro. GGG, where you at? Unify against Murata and then let’s put the three belts on the line next year. “Canelo you going to run up to 175? Cool, I can meet you there, no problem. First things first though, I need to go out on November 19, defend my championship belt, and put on a spectacular performance, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing.” “I’ve worked my whole career to get into this position of becoming world champion,” said Quigley. “Demetrius is a great champion but now it’s my time and that World title is coming back to Ireland.” Three more World title fights in support of Andrade’s clash with Quigley are led by Murodjon Akhmadaliev defending his IBF and WBA World Super Bantamweight titles against Ronny Rios. Akhmadaliev (9-0 7 KOs) was at his spiteful best last time out, putting the challenge of Ryosuke Iwasa to bed in the fifth round of his first professional outing in his homeland of Uzbekistan. ‘MJ’, who became unified champion in just his eighth fight in the paid ranks by ripping the belts from Daniel Roman, puts the belts on the line for the second time in New Hampshire and does so against his WBA mandatory challenger and #1 in the rankings. Rios (33-3 16 KOs) is in great form heading into his second World title challenge, heading to the east coast on the back of four wins, the latest being the only one to go the distance in February in Indio, California with a wide points win over Oscar Negrete. “I would like to thank my promoters Eddie Hearn and Andrei Ryabinsky for the opportunity to defend my titles in New Hampshire,” said Akhmadaliev. “I'm living and training in Indio, so I know how people love and appreciate boxing here. “It will be my second mandatory challenger in a row, he's a good fighter and I expect it to be a great fight for everybody to enjoy! As always, I'm working hard with my coaches Antonio and Joel Diaz, and we'll be prepared to defend what belongs to us!” “Who is the best to beat at my weight class? It's MJ so I am here to challenge myself with this task and I'm confident in my ability and my team to come out victorious,” said Rios. “On November 19th you will see a new world champion added to the Golden Boy stable” The third world title fight is pits Mexico vs. Puerto Rico and it’s the long-awaited showdown between Julio Cesar Martinez and McWilliams Arroyo. Mexican Martinez (18-1 14 KOs) returned to action in typically entertaining fashion in June, stopping Joel Cordova in Guadalajara to successfully defend his WBC World Flyweight title for the third time. It will be third time lucky for the Arroyo clash, with Covid squashing the first attempt to pit them together in Tulsa in May 2020 and then a hand injury to Martinez ruled him out in fight week when they were due to clash on the undercard of Canelo Alvarez’s clash with Avni Yildirim in Miami in February. Puerto Rican Arroyo (21-4 16 KOs) was able to taste action that night and picked up the Interim title at the home of the Miami Dolphins with a fifth-round win over Abraham Rodriguez and will be desperate to upgrade and rip the full title from Martinez as they finally get to tangle. “It is great that we are finally able to get this fight,” said Martinez. “We have tried twice to do it but that’s all in the past and now we’re going to go to war on October 16. “McWilliams is a strong challenger for the belt but I feel fantastic and I am ready to prove that I am the man to beat at Flyweight.” “This fight has been asked for and the fans will finally get a great battle on November 19,” said Arroyo. “I hope he will come prepared because I am going to be 100 percent ready and confident that I will be victorious.” The fourth World title bout on the bill is the second step on the path to crowing an undisputed women’s champion at 140lbs as Kali Reis takes on Jessica Camara for the WBA, IBO, and vacant WBO straps. Two-weight champion Reis (18-7-1 5 KOs) added the IBO title to her WBA crown last time out with a majority decision win over Australian Diana Prazak, and the Rhode Island champion and former WBC Middleweight ruler will be looking to add another title through victory over Camara (8-2), the Canadian that bounced back from defeat to Melissa St Vil with a confidence boosting win over Heather Hardy in May – and the stakes couldn’t be higher with the winner set to face the victor of the with October 30 clash between WBC champion Chantelle Cameron and IBF champion Mary McGee at The O2 in London, England. “I am in this tournament to collect all of the belts and become undisputed champion,” said Reis. “I want to thank DAZN, Lou DiBella and Eddie Hearn for this tremendous opportunity,” said Kali Reis. “Jessica is a talented fighter, but she will not deter me from achieving my goal. No one will.” “This is going to be a fun fight for the fans and a great fight for women’s boxing,” said Camara. “Kali will be a tough opponent, but I will be ready. On November 19, I will become a world champion. Thank you to DAZN, Lou DiBella and Eddie Hearn for putting this historic tournament together to crown an undisputed super lightweight champion.” “This is a fantastic quadruple-header of World title action,” said promoter Eddie Hearn. “Demetrius wants to show the other champions that he is the man to beat at Middleweight, so he needs to put on a big performance against a hungry and proud Irish challenger in Jason. “MJ is one of the best fighters in the world and he’s still in single figures as a pro, I think that we’re going to see a special performance against a tough foe in Ronny. Julio is one of the most entertaining fighters out there right now and there’s nothing less than fireworks expected as he finally gets in there with McWilliams. And finally, Kali and Jessica are one win away from the chance to fight to be the undisputed Super Lightweight champion - this is a night of action not to be missed.” "This is a fantastic card for fans to enjoy worldwide on DAZN, and a great example of our two partners Matchroom and Golden Boy working together to put on excellent shows,” said Ed Breeze, EVP Rights at DAZN. “Jason Quigley steps up against one of the toughest challenges in the middleweight division, the flawless and reigning WBO champion, Demetrius Andrade. What a night of boxing we have on our hands, and we’re thrilled to deliver this fight to DAZN subscribers on November 19.” “I am delighted to be able to partner up again with Matchroom to deliver the best fights for fight fans on November 19,” said Oscar De La Hoya, Chairman and CEO of Golden Boy. “Four world titles will be on the line as some of our formable, most exciting fighters take on the toughest challenges of their career to prove they are the best in their weight divisions. First, McWilliams Arroyo, will be is exercising his mandatory challenge for the WBC World Flyweight Championship against Julio Cesar Martinez. “Next, our very own Ronny Rios, who’s been on a winning streak since 2019, challenges Murodjon Akhmadaliev for the WBA and IBF Super Bantamweight World Titles. Finally, one of my favorite Golden Boy fighters, Jason Quigley will challenge Demetrius Andrade for the WBO Middleweight Title after a stellar performance against Shane Mosley Jr in May. I am fully confident in my fighters coming out successful and am looking forward to adding three new world champions to our Golden Boy roster.”

[mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl]

BARED TO HIM- SEUNGRI AU PT.6

Genre:Fluff/Smut/Angst

Rated:NC-17

Pairing: Seungri x Reader

Wordcount: 4,939

Part.5 Part.6

Masterlist

Please let me hnow in my ask box what do you think about the chapter or story in general same for 50 shades of kwon ji yong,THANKS!

“Hey, Dad. I caught you.” I adjusted my grip on the phone receiver and pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. I missed my father. For the last four years we’d lived close enough to see each other at least once a week. Now his home in Oceanside was the entire country away. “How are you?” He lowered the volume on the television. “Better, now that you’ve called. How was your first week at work?”

I went over my days from Monday through Friday, skipping over all the Seunghyun parts. “I really like my boss, Mark,” I finished. “And the vibe of the agency is very energetic and kind of quirky. I’m happy going to work every day, and I’m bummed when it’s time to go home.” “I hope it stays that way. But you need to make sure you have some downtime, too. Go out, be young, have fun. But not too much fun.” “Yeah, I had a little too much last night. Hae and I went clubbing, and I woke up with a mean hangover.” “Shit, don’t tell me that.” He groaned. “Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about you in New York. I get through it by telling myself you’re too smart to take chances, thanks to two parents who’ve drilled safety rules into your DNA.” “Which is true,” I said, laughing. “That reminds me… I’m going to start Krav Maga training.” “Really?” There was a thoughtful pause. “One of the guys on the force is big on it. Maybe I’ll check it out and we can compare notes when I come out to visit you.” “You’re coming to New York?” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Oh, Dad, I’d love it if you would. As much as I miss SoCal, Manhattan is really awesome. I think you’ll like it.” “I’d like anyplace in the world as long as you’re there.” He waited a beat, then asked, “How’s your mom?” “Well…she’s Mom. Beautiful, charming, and obsessive-compulsive.” My chest hurt and I rubbed at it. I thought my dad might still love my mom. He’d never married. That was one of the reasons I never told him about what happened to me. As a cop, he would’ve insisted on pressing charges and the scandal would have destroyed my mother. I also worried that he’d lose respect for her or even blame her, and it hadn’t been her fault. As soon as she’d found out what her stepson was doing to me, she’d left a husband she was happy with and filed for divorce. I kept talking, waving at Hae as he came rushing in with a little blue Tiffany & Co. bag. “We had a spa day today. It was a fun way to cap off the week.” I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’m glad you two are managing to spend time together. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?” I hedged on the subject of the charity event, knowing the whole red carpet business and astronomicallypriced dinner seats would just highlight the gap between my parents’ lives. “Hae and I are going out to eat, and then I plan on staying in tomorrow. Sleeping in late, hanging out in my pajamas all day, maybe some movies and food delivery of some sort. A little vegetating before a new work week kicks off.” “Sounds like heaven to me. I may copy you when my next day off rolls around.” Glancing at the clock, I saw it was creeping past six. “I have to get ready now. Be careful at work, okay? I worry about you, too.” “Will do. Bye, baby.” The familiar sign-off had me missing him so much my throat hurt. “Oh, wait! I’m getting a new cell phone. I’ll text you the number as soon as I have it.” “Again? You just got a new one when you moved.” “Long, boring story.” “Hmm…Don’t put it off. They’re good for safety as well as playing Angry Birds.” “I’m over that game!” I laughed and warmth spread through me to hear him laughing, too. “I’ll call you in a few days. Be good.” “That’s my line.” We hung up. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for minute; then Cary cranked up Hinder on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear. I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Seunghyun.

“Necklace or no necklace?” I asked Hae, when he came into my bedroom looking seriously amazing. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention. “Hmm.” His head tilted to the side as he studied me. “Hold it up again.” I lifted the choker of gold coins to my throat. The dress my mom had sent was fire engine red and styled for a Grecian goddess. It hung on one shoulder, cut diagonally across my cleavage, had ruching to the hip, and then split at my right upper thigh all the way down my leg. There was no back to speak of, aside from a slender strip of rhinestones that connected one side to the other to keep the front from falling off. Otherwise, the back was bared to just above the crack of my buttocks in a racy V-cut. “Forget the necklace,” he said. “I was leaning toward gold chandeliers, but now I’m thinking diamond hoops. The biggest ones you’ve got.” “What? Really?” I frowned at our reflections in my cheval mirror, watching as he moved to my jewelry box and dug through it. “These.” He brought them to me and I eyed the twoinch hoops my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. “Trust me,Y/N. Try ’em on.” I did and found he was right. It was a very different look from the gold choker, less glam and more edgy sensuality. And the earrings went well with the diamond anklet on my right leg that I’d never think of the same way again after Seunghyun’s comment. With my hair swept off my face into a cascade of thick, deliberately messy curls, I had a just-screwed look that was complemented by smoky eye shadow and glossy nude lips. “What would I do without you, Hae?” “Baby girl”—he set his hands on my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine—“you’ll never find out.” “You look awesome, by the way.” “Don’t I?” He winked and stepped back, showing off. In his own way, Hae could give Seunghyun a run for his money…er, looks. Hae was more finely featured, almost pretty compared to Seunghyun’s savage beauty, but both were striking men that made you look twice, and then stare in greedy delight. Hae hadn’t been quite so perfect when I met him. He’d been strung out and gaunt, his emerald eyes cloudy and lost. But I’d been drawn to him, going out of my way to sit next to him in group therapy. He’d finally propositioned me crudely, having come to believe the only reason people associated with him was because they wanted to fuck him. It was when I declined, firmly and irrevocably, that we finally connected and became best friends. He was the brother I’d never had. The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realize how nervous I was. I looked at Hae. “I forgot to tell the front desk he was coming back.” “I’ll get him.” “Are you going to be okay riding over with Johns and my mom?” “Are you kidding? They love me.” His smile dimmed. “Having second thoughts about going with Lee?” I took a deep breath, remembering where I’d been earlier—on my back in a multi-orgasmic daze. “Not really, no. It’s just that everything’s happening so fast and going better than I expected or realized I wanted…” “You’re wondering what the catch is.” Reaching out, he tapped my nose with his fingertip. “He’s the catch, Y/N. And you landed him. Enjoy yourself.” “I’m trying.” I was grateful that Hae understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn’t explain something. “I researched the hell out of him this morning and printed out the interesting recent stuff. It’s on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out.” I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.” “Back atcha, baby girl.” He headed out. “I’ll head down to the front desk and bring him up. Take your time. He’s ten minutes early.” Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the chair and got lost in Lee Seunghyun’s history. It was like watching a train wreck to read that he was the son of LEE Jinyoung, former chairman of an investment securities firm later found to be a front for a massive Ponzi scheme. Seunghyun was just five years old when his dad committed suicide with a gunshot to the head rather than face prison time. Oh, Seunghyun. I tried to picture him that young and imagined a handsome dark-haired boy with beautiful blue eyes filled with terrible confusion and sadness. The image broke my heart. How devastating his father’s suicide—and the circumstances around it— must have been, for both him and his mother. The stress and strain at such a difficult time would’ve been enormous, especially for a child of that age. His mother went on to marry Christopher Vidal, a music executive, and had two more children, Christopher Vidal Jr. and Ireland Vidal, but it seemed a larger family and financial security had come too late to help Seunghyun stabilize after such a huge shakeup. He was too closed off not to bear some painful emotional scars. With a critical and curious eye, I studied the women who’d been photographed with Seunghyun and thought about his approach to dating, socializing, and sex. I saw that my mom had been right—they were all brunettes. The woman who appeared with him most often bore the hallmarks of a Hispanic heritage. She was taller than me, willowy rather than curvy. “Magdalene Perez,” I murmured, grudgingly admitting that she was a stunner. Her posture had the kind of flamboyant confidence that I admired. “Okay, it’s been long enough,” Hae interrupted with a soft note of amusement. He filled the doorway to my sitting room, leaning insolently into the doorjamb. “Really?” I’d been so absorbed; I hadn’t realized how much time had passed. “I would guess you’re about a minute away from him coming to find you. He’s barely restraining himself.” I shut the folder and stood. “Interesting reading, isn’t it?” “Very.” How had Seunghyun’s father—or more specifically, his father’s suicide—influenced his life? I knew all the answers I wanted were waiting for me in the next room. Leaving my bedroom, I took the hallway to the living room. I paused on the threshold, my gaze riveted to Seunghyun’s back as he stood in front of the windows and looked out at the city. My heart rate kicked up. His reflection revealed a contemplative mood. His gaze was unfocused and his mouth grim. His crossed arms betrayed an inherent unease, as if he was out of his element. He looked remote and removed, a man who was inherently alone. He sensed my presence or maybe he felt my yearning. He pivoted; then went very still. I took the opportunity to drink him in, my gaze sliding all over him. He looked every inch the powerful magnate. So sensually handsome my eyes burned just from looking at him. The rakish fall of black hair around his face made my fingers flex with the urge to touch it. And the way he looked at me…my pulse leaped. “Y/N.” He came toward me, his stride graceful and strong. He caught up my hand and lifted it to his mouth. His gaze was intense—intensely hot, intensely focused. The feel of his lips against my skin sent goose bumps racing up my arm and stirred memories of that sinful mouth on other parts of my body. I was instantly aroused. “Hi.” Amusement warmed his eyes. “Hi, yourself. You look amazing. I can’t wait to show you off.” I breathed through the delight I felt at the compliment. “Let’s hope I can do you justice.” A slight frown knit the space between his brows. “Do you have everything you need?” Hae appeared beside me, carrying my black velvet shawl and opera length gloves. “Here you go. I tucked your gloss into your clutch.” “You’re the best, Hae.” He winked at me—which told me he’d seen the condoms I had tucked into the small interior pocket. “I’ll head down with you two.” Seunghyun took the shawl from Hae and draped it over my shoulders. He pulled my hair out from underneath it and the feel of his hands at my neck so distracted me, I barely paid attention when Hae pushed my gloves into my hands. The elevator ride to the lobby was an exercise in surviving acute sexual tension. Not that Hae seemed to notice. He was on my left with both hands in his pockets, whistling. Seunghyun, on the other hand, was a tremendous force on the other side of me. Although he didn’t move or make a sound, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from him. My skin tingled from the magnetic pull between us, and my breath came short and fast. I was relieved when the doors opened and freed us from the enclosed space. Two women stood waiting to get on. Their jaws dropped when they saw Seunghyun and Hae, and that lightened my mood and made me smile. “Ladies,” Hae greeted them, with a smile that really wasn’t fair. I could almost see their brain cells misfiring. In contrast, Seunghyun gave a curt nod and led me out with a hand at the small of my back, skin to skin. The contact was electric, sending heat pouring through me. I squeezed Hae’s hand. “Save a dance for me.” “Always. See you in a bit.” A limousine was waiting at the curb, and the driver opened the door when Seunghyun and I stepped outside. I slid across the bench seat to the opposite side and adjusted my gown. When Seunghyun settled beside me and the door shut, I became highly conscious of how good he smelled. I breathed him in, telling myself to relax and enjoy his company. He took my hand and ran his fingertips over the palm, the simple touch sparking a fierce lust. I shrugged off my shawl, feeling too hot to wear it. “Y/N.” He hit a button and the privacy glass behind the driver began to slide up. The next moment I was tugged across his lap and his mouth was on mine, kissing me fiercely. I did what I’d wanted to do since I saw him in my living room: I shoved my hands in his hair and kissed him back. I loved the way he kissed me, as if he had to, as if he’d go crazy if he didn’t and had nearly waited too long. I sucked on his tongue, having learned how much he liked it, having learned how much I liked it, how much it made me want to suck him elsewhere with the same eagerness. His hands were sliding over my bare back and I moaned, feeling the prod of his erection against my hip. I shifted, moving to straddle him, shoving the skirt of my gown out of the way and making a mental note to thank my mom for the dress—which had such a convenient slit. With my knees on either side of his hips, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and deepened the kiss. I licked into his mouth, nibbled on his lower lip, stroked my tongue along his… Seunghyun gripped my waist and pushed me away. He leaned into the seat back, his neck arched to look up at my face, his chest heaving. “What are you doing to me?” I ran my hands down his chest through his dress shirt, feeling the unforgiving hardness of his muscles. My fingers traced the ridges of his abdomen, my mind forming a picture of how he might look naked. “I’m touching you. Enjoying the hell out of you. I want you, Seunghyun .” He caught my wrists, stilling my movements. “Later. We’re in the middle of Manhattan.” “No one can see us.” “That’s not the point. It’s not the time or place to start something we can’t finish for hours. I’m losing my mind already from this afternoon.” “So let’s make sure we finish it now.” His grip tightened painfully. “We can’t do that here.” “Why not?” Then a surprising thought struck me. “Haven’t you ever had sex in a limo?” “No.” His jaw hardened. “Have you?” Looking away without answering, I saw the traffic and pedestrians surging around us. We were only inches away from hundreds of people, but the dark glass concealed us and made me feel reckless. I wanted to please him. I wanted to know I was capable of reaching into Lee Seunghyun , and there was nothing to stop me but him. I rocked my hips against him, stroking myself with the hard length of his cock. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth. “I need you, Seunghyun ,” I said breathlessly, inhaling his scent, which was richer now that he was aroused. I thought I might be slightly intoxicated, just from the enticing smell of his skin. “You drive me crazy.” He released my wrists and cupped my face, his lips pressing hard against mine. I reached for the fly of his slacks, freeing the two buttons to access the concealed zipper. He tensed. “I need this,” I whispered against his lips. “Give me this.” He didn’t relax, but he made no further attempts to stop me either. When he fell heavily into my palms, he groaned, the sound both pained and erotic. I squeezed him gently, my touch deliberately tender as I sized him with my hands. He was so hard, like stone, and hot. I slid both of my fists up his length from root to tip, my breath catching when he quivered beneath me. Seunghyun gripped my thighs, his hands sliding upward beneath the edges of my dress until his thumbs found the red lace of my thong. “Your cunt is so sweet,” he murmured into my mouth. “I want to spread you out and lick you ’til you beg for my cock.” “I’ll beg now, if you want.” I stroked him with one hand and reached for my clutch with the other, snapping it open to grab a condom. One of his thumbs slid beneath the edge of my panties, the pad sliding through the slickness of my desire. “I’ve barely touched you,” he whispered, his eyes glittering up at me in the shadows of the backseat, “and you’re ready for me.” “I can’t help it.” “I don’t want you to help it.” He pushed his thumb inside me, biting his lower lip when I clenched helplessly around him. “It wouldn’t be fair when I can’t stop what you do to me.” I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and held it out to him with the ring of the condom protruding from the tear. “I’m not good with these.” His hand curled around mine. “I’m breaking all my rules with you.” The seriousness of his low tone sent a burst of warmth and confidence through me. “Rules are made to be broken.” I saw his teeth flash white; then he hit a button on the panel beside him and said, “Drive until I say otherwise.” My cheeks heated. Another car’s headlights pierced the dark tinted glass and slid over my face, betraying my embarrassment. “Why, Y/N,” he purred, rolling the condom on deftly. “You’ve seduced me into having sex in my limousine, but blush when I tell my driver I don’t want to be interrupted while you do it to me?” His sudden playfulness made me desperate to have him. Setting my hands on his shoulders for balance, I lifted onto my knees, rising to gain the height I needed to hover over the crown of Seunghyun’s thick cock. His hands fisted at my hips and I heard a snap as he tore my panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred my desire to a fever pitch. “Go slow,” he ordered hoarsely, lifting his hips to push his pants down farther. His erection brushed between my legs as he moved and I whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms he’d given me earlier had only deepened my craving rather than appeased it. He tensed when I wrapped my fingers around him and positioned him, tucking the wide crest against the saturated folds of my cleft. The scent of our lust was heavy and humid in the air, a seductive mix of need and pheromones that awakened every cell in my body. My skin was flushed and tingling, my breasts heavy and tender. This is what I’d wanted from the moment I first saw him—to possess him, to climb up his magnificent body and take him deep inside me. “God. Y/N,” he gasped as I lowered onto him, his hands flexing restlessly on my thighs. I closed my eyes, feeling too exposed. I’d wanted intimacy with him and yet this seemed too intimate. We were eye-to-eye, only inches apart, cocooned in a small space with the rest of the world streaming by around us. I could sense his agitation, knew he was feeling as off-center as I was. “You’re so tight.” His gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony. I took more of him, letting him slide deeper. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling exquisitely stretched. “You’re so big.” Pressing his palm flat to my lower belly, he touched my throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb and began to massage it in slow, expertly soft circles. Everything in my core tightened and clenched, sucking him deeper. Opening my eyes, I looked at him from under heavy eyelids. He was so beautiful sprawled beneath me in his elegant tuxedo, his powerful body straining with the primal need to mate. His neck arched, his head pressing hard into the seatback as if he was struggling against invisible bonds. “Ah, Christ,” he bit out, his teeth grinding. “I’m going to come so hard.” The dark promise excited me. Sweat misted my skin. I became so wet and hot that I slid smoothly down the length of his cock until I’d nearly sheathed him. A breathless cry escaped me before I’d taken him to the root. He was so deep I could hardly stand it, forcing me to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort. But my body didn’t seem to care that he was too big. It was rippling around him, squeezing, trembling on the verge of orgasm. Seunghyun cursed and gripped my hip with his free hand, urging me to lean backward as his chest heaved with frantic breaths. The position altered my descent and I opened, accepting all of him. Immediately his body temperature rose, his torso radiating sultry heat through his clothes. Sweat dotted his upper lip. Leaning forward, I slid my tongue along the sculpted curve, collecting the saltiness with a low murmur of delight. His hips churned impatiently. I lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before he stopped me with that ferocious grasp on my hip. “Slow,” he warned again, with an authoritative bite that sent lust pulsing through me. I lowered, taking him into me again, feeling an oddly luscious soreness as he pushed just past my limits. Our eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where we connected. It struck me then that we were both fully clothed except for the most private and intimate parts of our bodies. I found that excruciatingly carnal, as were the sounds he made, as if the pleasure was as extreme for him as it was for me. Wild for him, I pressed my mouth to his, my fingers gripping the sweat-damp roots of his hair. I kissed him as I rocked my hips, riding the maddening circling of his thumb, feeling the orgasm building with every slide of his long, thick penis into my melting core. I lost my mind somewhere along the way, primitive instinct taking over until my body was completely in charge. I could focus on nothing but the driving urge to fuck, the ferocious need to ride his cock until the tension burst and set me free of this grinding hunger. “It’s so good,” I sobbed, lost to him. “You feel…Ah, God, it’s too good.” Using both hands, Seunghyun commanded my rhythm, tilting me into an angle that had the big crown of his cock rubbing a tender, aching spot inside me. As I tightened and shook, I realized I was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of him inside me. “ Seunghyun .” He captured me by the nape as the orgasm exploded through me, starting with the ecstatic spasms of my core and radiating outward until I was trembling all over. He watched me fall apart, holding my gaze when I would’ve closed my eyes. Possessed by his stare, I moaned and came harder than I ever had, my body jerking with every pulse of pleasure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, pounding his hips up at me, yanking my hips down to meet his punishing lunges. He hit the end of me with every deep thrust, battering into me. I could feel him growing harder and thicker. I watched him avidly, needing to see it when he went over the edge for me. His eyes were wild with his need, losing their focus as his control frayed, his gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax. “Y/N!” He came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted me with its ferocity. He shook as the orgasm tore into him, his features softening for an instant with an unexpected vulnerability. Cupping his face, I brushed my lips across his, comforting him as the forceful bursts of his gasping breaths struck my cheeks. “ Y/N  .” He wrapped his arms around me and crushed me to him, pressing his damp face into the curve of my neck. I knew just how he felt. Stripped. Laid bare. We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. He turned his head and kissed me softly, the strokes of his tongue into my mouth soothing my ragged emotions. “Wow,” I breathed, shaken. His mouth twitched. “Yeah.” I smiled, feeling dazed and high. Seunghyun brushed the damp tendrils of hair off my temples, his fingertips gliding almost reverently across my face. The way he studied me made my chest hurt. He looked stunned and…grateful, his eyes warm and tender. “I don’t want to break this moment.” Because I could hear it hanging in the air, I filled it in. “But…?” “But I can’t blow off this dinner. I have a speech to give.” “Oh.” The moment was effectively broken. I lifted gingerly off of him, biting my lip at the feel of him slipping wetly out of me. The friction was enough to make me want more. He’d barely softened. “Damn it,” he said roughly. “I want you again.” He caught me before I moved away, pulling a handkerchief out from somewhere and running it gently between my legs. It was a deeply intimate act, on par with the sex we’d just had. When I was dry, I settled on the seat beside him and dug my lip gloss out of my clutch. I watched Seunghyun over the edge of my mirrored compact as he removed the condom and tied it off. He wrapped it in a cocktail napkin; then tossed it in a cleverly hidden trash receptacle. After restoring his appearance, he told the driver to head to our destination. Then he settled into the seat and stared out the window. With every second that passed, I felt him withdrawing, the connection between us slipping further and further away. I found myself shrinking into the corner of the seat, away from him, mimicking the distance I felt building between us. All the warmth I’d felt receded into a marked chill, cooling me enough that I pulled my shawl around me again. He didn’t move a muscle as I shifted beside him and put my compact away, as if he wasn’t even aware I was there. Abruptly, Seunghyun opened the bar and pulled out a bottle. Without looking at me, he asked, “Brandy?” “No, thank you.” My voice was small, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he didn’t care. He poured a drink and tossed it back. Confused and stung, I pulled on my gloves and tried to figure out what went wrong.

[deadlifts-and-derrida]

I left

On the night of my sleep study, I dreamed of home. But not of family, or of friends. I dreamed of a white whale.

I grew up in a small town on the south coast of the island of Newfoundland, in a region called the Avalon. The name suggests a magical place existing outside of the real world - too on the nose, yet not wrong. There’s no way to quickly summarize what it was like growing up there, so I’ll try to pick out the relevant details and leave the rest. My town was small, about 4,000 people (yet it was also the largest for 100 miles in any direction). It was culturally homogenous, insular, and about 350 years old. Like almost all Newfoundland settlements, it was on the coast, oriented completely toward the ocean. The ocean was both sustainer and killer, frigid water blasted down from Greenland, the warm Gulf Stream weaving around us like we were a stranger it wanted to avoid. If you fell in most times of the year, you’d die in minutes or less - seconds, if it was winter. Even in August, wading into the water at the beach was done more as a dare than a pleasure. The ocean was full of fury and mystery and unimaginable power, deep open water between us and Brazil, looking south, or us and France, looking east. We were tiny creatures, clinging to the rocks, facing the sea. At our backs, deep dark pathless wilderness.

But that same vast killing medium teemed with life. The seas around my hometown were the richest fishing grounds on the planet until fifty years of industrial harvesting destroyed what, for five hundred years before, had seemed an inexhaustible resource. You could not farm the land - thin, acidic soil, full of rocks, the growing season too short to sustain crops. The sea  gave life. Until it didn’t.

I came of age at the end of those fifty years of industrial destruction. I was eight when the fishing of cod, my culture’s very foundation, was banned, because there were almost no cod left to fish. Unemployment skyrocketed. In the decade that followed, the province’s population dropped by more than 10%. My hometown shrunk by a third between me entering kindergarten and me graduating high school. I grew up in a cultural and ecological apocalypse, with the strong sense that my hometown, and all places like it, would not exist in a generation or two - and that all people my age would have to leave if they wanted to do anything with their lives. That’s not an uncommon feeling for people from small communities who have lost their primary industry. But it is an uncommon feeling if that community represents a small, unique culture, a little island you desperately want to survive. An entire way of life is mortally wounded. In your leaving, you are adding your knife to the thousands of others. Its blood is on your hands.

I left.

I always said I’d come back, if I could. I got a job in Ireland. It ended and I came back. Four months later I left to do a Masters degree at the University of Western Ontario. I came back. Two years later I left to start a PhD at the University of Toronto. Then, four years into the PhD, something grand and ridiculous happened that allowed me to dictate the shape of my own future. I could move home, if I wanted. Plans were formed. I dragged my feet. I put it off. I put it off. Then, visiting for Christmas, alone in a car, driving down LeMarchant Road in the west end of St. John’s, our capital and only true city, I realized I did not want to move home. I started to cry. It’s painful when you realize that something you’ve told yourself about yourself for years is actually not true. But it also felt like, in that moment, I accepted that the Michael I had been was gone, now. Where had he gone?

I left.

I left because I could only be the person I wanted to be living in a big city, connected to the world. I left because I could only be the person I wanted to be free of my parents, free of the culture I grew up in. I left because I no longer wanted to be the Michael I had been. I wanted to be someone different. I wanted more. I wanted to leave.

Years later, I am in St. Michael’s Hospital, in downtown Toronto, the city I’ve decided to make my home. I am having a sleep study because I do not breathe well. My nose is too narrow for air. I do not sleep well. In recent months I dropped out of my PhD program, after two years of poking at it half-heartedly. I had fallen in love in January and had my heart bruised in July. My marriage was slowly disintegrating. I was quarrelling with my parents whenever I saw them. I felt lonely and alone much of the time. I hid things from old friends because I did not know if they would understand or approve of my new life, of the person I had become. Donald Trump had threatened nuclear war with North Korea a few hours before I was meant to fall asleep. For months before, I had waking nightmares of rushing to Washington or San Francisco to dig through irradiated rubble in the futile hopes of finding a loved one’s broken body.

The bed was uncomfortable, and sleeping with two dozen wires attached to you and tubes in your nose is difficult. It took ages to find a comfortable position.

Eventually, I dreamed.

The house I grew up in was built by my father and my grandfather. It’s surrounded by wild taiga, a few miles outside of town, on a hill facing a gentle, sheltered arm of the sea. The only road leads to town and then on to the world beyond. It follows the coast of the arm, up and down hills, until it crests the tallest and my hometown and the open ocean both come into view. In my dream I did not visit the house I grew up in. My memory of it begins on this road, alone, driving down the long hill into town, driving away from home, the ocean before me, grey and choppy. The cliffs called Crèvecœur - French for “broken heart” - faced me, across this expanse of water, battered by crashing waves, as they have been for centuries.

A white shape took form in the water and my heart filled with dread. It burst through the surface. A whale breaching. Its entire body left the water and it flew for a moment before crashing back into the waves. A white whale.

“A beluga,” I thought in the dream, because beluga whales have positive connotations, cherubic and pure. But was it a beluga? No, it was too large. And the other connotations for a white whale are very different. And my heart was still full of dread. I knew I would have to cross the water on my journey away from home, and I was terrified of the whale.

I continued down the road, skirting my hometown, with no desire to stop, or look around, or seek out anyone I knew, immediate family included. I wanted to pass through quickly, like a ghost. The bridge was ahead, waiting for me to cross it. The bridge over the harbour’s entrance. The bridge over the water that hid the whale. The bridge away from home. The bridge to the world beyond. As I approached - on foot now - I saw shapes moving in the water below me. I stepped onto the bridge. I left.  

What the white whale was to Ahab, has been hinted; what, at times, he was to me, as yet remains unsaid.

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/business/why-a-timely-nudge-might-help-us-save-money/

Why a timely nudge might help us save money

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption The experiment in rural India has inspired a range of products

Anyone struggling to save money might take inspiration from labourers in rural India.

These low-paid construction workers took part in an experiment. When they were paid, some of the cash was put into one envelope, or two, and earmarked as savings.

The stakes were raised for some when a picture of their children was attached to one of the envelopes.

Dipping into those savings for everyday spending – by ripping through the image of their sons and daughters – made them feel guilty. So, as they tried to avoid this guilty feeling, the amount they saved increased.

Can’t save, won’t save

This is more than just a theory. In the UK today, millions of people set money aside in a separate savings account to stop them spending it day-to-day.

Financial technology companies such as Wagestream, which allows workers to extract pay and save directly from their wages before payday, are trying out the use of reward and guilt.

It allows users to load an image of their savings goal onto the app, such as a car or a holiday destination. The more they save, the clearer the image becomes. If they withdraw money, the picture starts to disappear.

“It subtly reinforces the reality of what they are doing and can materially influence their behaviour,” says Peter Briffett, co-founder of Wagestream.

The reality, and the concern for many, is that the UK has lost its savings habit. This graph shows that experts are not expecting it to return any time soon.

The proportion of income left after taxes that we save is known as the savings ratio. For the last couple of years, the UK has saved about 4% of disposable income. In the 1990s, it came close to 15%.

The independent Office for Budget Responsibility (OBR), which makes forecasts for the government, predicts it will stay at or around this 50-year low for the next five years at least.

It is not all bad. The OBR, the Bank of England, and others expect interest rates to stay low too. Many people are deciding to pay off debts when the costs are low, rather than save when the rewards (in interest payments) are low too.

Half of twenty-somethings have no savings

Do money apps make us better or worse with our finances?

However, the Institute for Fiscal Studies says the increase in consumers’ spending has outstripped any income growth in the last couple of years.

A lack of savings has real consequences for the lives of millions of people – particularly the young and low-paid.

No savings means no financial buffer for the unexpected – no way to pay when a deposit is needed to rent a home, or when the vet’s bill lands after the cat is ill. or when the car breaks down. No car may mean no job.

Data shows the extent of the problem:

Official statistics reveal half of 20-somethings have no savings at all

Research by the Financial Conduct Authority found one in six people could not cope with a £50 rise in monthly rent or mortgage costs

In 2016, the Money Advice Service found that 16 million people in the UK had savings of less than £100

In Northern Ireland, the West Midlands, Yorkshire and Humber, North East England and Wales, more than half of the adult population had no more than £100 tucked away

Free money offered by the government has done little to reverse the situation. The Help to Save scheme offers a 50% bonus to certain people on low incomes if they save for two or four years. Take-up has been below half the level expected by the OBR.

So MAS, now called the Money and Pensions Service, wanted to find new ways to encourage people to save. It turned to the Behavioural Insights Team (BIT), commonly known as the “nudge unit”.

Image copyright Getty Images

In a tiny meeting room, one wall of which is entirely a whiteboard, sits someone with big ideas. Elisabeth Costa, is a director at BIT and leads a team of five trialling various projects aimed at encouraging the those who are in work, but financially squeezed, to save.

A total of 244 ideas about savings, guidance, and managing debts were thought up, before 17 were chosen for trials.

In the end, many boil down to this: using timely reminders and automatic technology can help people manage their finances.

We “underestimate behavioural factors”, she says, which can be as powerful a motivator as, for example, an increase in the interest paid on savings.

“The industry should make [customers’] decisions as easy and as automated as possible,” she says.

Image copyright Yolt

Image caption Smartphones offer the opportunity for reminders and automation

We make big changes at important times in our lives, so we might review our finances when we move home, or when children are born.

Yet reminders can work on a more regular basis, if they are well-timed, according to Ms Costa. Research in Mexico showed three-quarters of workers’ whose wages were paid into their bank account immediately took the money out in cash. They received a message on pay day urging them to keep it in.

BBC News has set up a UK Facebook group all about affordable living. Share your ideas and join the conversation at the Affordable Living group here.

One trial being planned in the UK is at supermarket check-outs, both physical and for online shoppers. The idea is that the shopper receives a message at the check-out asking whether they would like the equivalent of money saved from store discounts to be diverted automatically into a savings account.

The team also plans to test the same theory with longer-term savings. This would prompt people to save some of their wages into a “sidecar account” alongside any pension savings. Employees would contribute in the same way as a pension, but the extra would go into a more easily accessible savings account for a rainy day, or to pay emergency bills.

Other trials are planned or already in operation to help people pay off debt quicker, or block spending on gambling sites.

Prizes at the end of the tunnel

Ms Costa explains that when it comes to finances, people often display “tunnelling” behaviour, when their short-term decisions clash with their long-term interests. For example, someone squeezed for cash may borrow a payday loan rather than save the same amount by switching to a cheaper energy deal.

We also tend to value rewards that are offered today rather than in the long-term.

That is why prize-linked savings accounts are popular. One study in South Africa found savings increased by 38% when people were offered the chance to win a cash prize rather than being paid interest.

In the UK, Premium Bonds have been attracting people in much the same way for 60 years. It is the most popular savings product in the country. Yet, Ms Costa argues that for some people on low incomes, the £25 minimum investment may be too expensive.

Many will argue that the financially squeezed need a little more help, as well as a little more luck.

[lifeistooshorttowasteyourtime]

Chapter 4

Days later both started to do new searching in the west side of the forest, the part where they hadn’t inspected. Maia insisted in join him, along with Seth, and small potions’ virals in her coat just in case they needed them. While they walked between the trees, observing their surroundings, Newt told her his worry about not having found anything in his investigations that were delaying his trip to Africa. The woman hadn’t thought about the day in which her friend had to go, she had gotten used to his presence in the house and she liked to share long conversations with him. But specially, she felt comfortable and secure, like her years in Hogwarts. At the beginning she thought that she felt like that because he was a fellow Hufflepuff, but it didn’t get too long for her to understand that she had affection for him.

-I’m not an expert in this but if you need to go before discovering what is happening, I could keep investigating- Maia offered shyly.

Newt looked at her surprised. Though he appreciated what she was doing for him, he couldn’t imagine his new friend was going to involve herself that much.

-You would?

-Of course. I think that after seeing you working and meeting your creatures, I’ve found a new love for them.

The man laughed.

-I would be eternally thankful.

-But promise me that you will write me, I wouldn’t like to lost contact- she admitted looking up to see he was looking at her too.

-Count on it- he said firmly but looked away even before finish saying that sentence, which made her smile.

They kept walking in silence until, suddenly, Newt stopped and took Maia by her waist to stop her from walking too.

-What…?- she stated to ask, grabbing his arm that was around her waist.

-Look at the tree.

The woman looked towards the tree Newt had pointed and realized that there was an anomaly in the light of the tree trunk.

-A magic force field?- she asked in a whisper.

-And I think I’m right in saying that it will only detect magic creatures- he answered letting her go.

-It’s advanced magic, REALLY advanced- she took a viral with an orange bubbly liquid -this is supposed to annular any protective force field but I don’t know if it will work with this type.

-Let’s try it.

-Then it’s better if we go behind a tree.

The two of them hid behind a huge tree, bug enough for both of them and Seth. Once they were sheltered, Maia throw the viral to the force field, making a big noise, but didn’t break it.

-I’ll have to make one stronger at home to destroy it.

Suddenly Seth turned his head really quick to his right, making the adults to look at that direction to see a big creature running straight to the force field.

-No!- Newt yelled scared, but the creature kept running until it stepped into it, the force field vibrating and some ropes appeared from the trees, coiling around the poor animal that neighed.

In that moment Maia realized it was a horse, but with huge brown wings that were moving fast until the ropes stopped them. Newt ran towards the winged horse and Maia followed him with Seth, though both stayed behind the man, observing how he tried, in vain, to calm the creature down. One of his hoofs hit him on the abdomen, throwing him aside. Without a thought, Maia took her wand and pointed it to the horse.

-¡Petrificus totalus!- the horse froze, allowing her to make another spell -¡relashio!

The ropes disappeared bit by bit from the animal and she put her hand on its flank.

-Shhh… Calm down…

Newt kneeled next to her, stroking the horse’s neck before looking at its wings. One of them were hurt and the magizoologist, to prevent it of getting infected, took one of his owns potions and poured it onto it. The horse turned its head and bit the biceps of the man.

-¡Newt!

-It’s okay- he said while he stroked between the eyes of the animal -it stings, it’s the way of complaining.

-We should come back home.

-Yes, but first…

Newt opened his suitcase that sucked the horse in, being received by Dougal. Maia took Newt’s hand and surrounded Seth with her other arm before dissaparating to land on the home.

-That horse, will it be alright?- the woman asked looking how Newt put the suitcase on the floor.

-It’s an aethonan. There are different races of winged horses, the aethonan are typicals of United Kingdom and Ireland.

-Ah.

-And yes, it will be okay. The force field must stun them and active those ropes. They are sophisticated traps…- said pensive.

-Yes, magic that is not at the reach of all, so those who make them must be in high positions, they can’t be common wizards or witches. They have advanced studies, more than ours.

-You are completely right- he made a pain grimace and put his hand over his abdomen.

-Let me heal you.

-First I have to accommodate my new creature.

-Wait.

Maia took his arm carefully, extending it to see the wound of the bite through the shirt. She raised her wand murmuring:

-It’s not too big, this will be enough. Episkey.

The wound started to close but Newt took her wand with his other hand, making the spell to stop and leaving a scar on his skin. She looked at him frowning and the man looked away with a small smile.

-I want the scar, it will remain me that we’ve saved the aethonan.

-Oh- Maia said in a small voice because of the surprise -will you want the scar of the kick on your abdomen too?

Newt laughed a bit but grimaced again. Maia pressed her lips worried but he, seeing her expression, shook his head.

-I’ve been worse. Let’s going to see our new friend.

-How are you going to call it?- she asked following inside the suitcase.

-Um… Epping, like this forest.

Maia nodded in approbation though he didn’t see it. Dougal found them just when they stepped out of the small room and led them to the hippogriffs’ habitat where he had left the aethonan resting. The magizoologist crouched next to him.

-Maia, come here- he said without turning to look at her.

The woman, shyly, kneeled next to him and observed how Newt treated the wound of its wing.

-This wound doesn’t seem because of the ropes- she commented frowning –I’m sure it’s because of a curse.

-Exactly, what that takes us?

-The curse was made into the force field…

-Yes. It’s incredible the mechanism that those persons has made to hunt the magic creatures… The magic force field that attracts them, the curse that hurts them and the ropes to trap them. They require a big level of magic for that amount of magic, and quality.

The woman pressed her lips together and stood up.

-Well, then we have the ministry people, aurors and professors.

-It means- he said swallowing -it’s magic creatures traffic.

She heard Newt sighing and she bit her lips.

-We’ll find them, one way or another. You can investigate inside the ministry, I can investigate the retired professors because none that are now teaching can do this, and I’ll try to find more force fields.

The man stood up too and smiled a bit thankful before looking at the new member of his family.

-You don’t know how much it means to me that you get so involve in this. In the ministry doesn’t take me seriously, in Hogwarts you know everyone thought I was weird…- Maia could see the melancholy and sadness in his eyes the moment he looked at her in the eyes -thank you.

It was Maia who looked away murmuring:

-Let’s see how you have that kick.

Maia walked back to the room and Newt followed her after stroking the aethonan’s head. She started to look for a paste she had done with murtlap essence while he sat on his chair, taking off his shirt carefully. Maia found the paste and extended it on a mint leaf.

-I doubt you’ll have any scar, but you’ll have a big bruise- she said before turning around to look at him, and corroborated her theory when she saw a huge bruise on his abdomen.

The woman felt the warmth rise up her neck and expand over her face and ears. Newt didn’t seem to realize because he just looked at his own abdomen while Maia’s eyes danced over all Newt’s torso, filled with freckles but also scars of all sizes and thicknesses. Also she noticed he was quite muscular, something she wouldn’t have imagined.

-Em… First, I’m going to reduce the swelling- she took her wand and without a word she made the spell, his bruise reduced its size -and, now, p-put this on the bruise.

She gave him the leaf with murtlap essence and he did as she said. Maia took some steps up, opening the suitcase to say:

-Accio tape!- she took the object and approached Newt shyly -I have that… Put it on, and you should change your leaf in two hours.

-Sure.

He let her put the tape on the leaf so it would be on his abdomen. Newt’s body radiated warmth, something that made her even more nervous, but she did what she had quickly and with effectiveness.

-Better?

-Murtlap essence is a blessing- he mumbled with a smile while he stood up.

Newt turned to put the shirt on and Maia could see that his back was filled with scars too. They didn’t disgust her, better say curiosity.

-Listen, Newt…

-Yes?

-All your scars are made by creatures?

She saw how he blushed, his neck taking the same color of his hair.

-Y-yes…

-Sorry, I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable- she mumbled turning -I’m going to… I’m going to make our lunch.

Maia was going to go upstairs when she heard Newt saying behind her:

-Like the aethonan bite, all my scars are from the creatures I’ve rescued. At the beginning, because of my inexperience, the scars were because I could heal them but time after I didn’t mind to have them, they are my story. The story of what I’m doing and I feel proud- Maia turned to him and smiled sweetly -I now most of the people are disgusted by them, but I don’t care what others think about me.

The woman observed him. She was surprised that Newt was a person so confident in his convictions, so confident about his profession and what he did, but he wasn’t so confident when it came about other persons. She understood in that moment that Newt felt more comfortable between magic creatures than between persons because animals never judged you, they didn’t have that malice, and he had gotten used to be part of that small pack of creatures that were in his suitcase. Maia went to him and took his hand with a small smile.

-Will you tell me the story behind your scars? I’ve seen one with a really strange form in your shoulder blade and I would like to know what creature did that.

Newt laughed looking at his feet while nodding.

-The truth is that is a funny story.

She smiled brightly and pulled him softly, indicating with her head the stairs.

While Maia made the lunch, with Newt’s help because he refused to let the woman do everything, the magizoologist began to tell those stories that literally marked him, always with a smile.

They had finished eating, sitting on the sofa but with their bodies turned to be face to face while Newt told how hard was receiving the wounds from dragons, which had left in his skin the worst scars.

-Why didn’t you ask to have the healed?

-There were people who needed help more than me. And I’ve told you I don’t mind to have them.

-I don’t say it because of having scars, but because those wound could have you injured in the future, not all wounds are deadly on the spot. And I'm not referring to just being infected. For example, the scar that runs through the right side of your chest seems to be deep, your muscles could have been paralyzed over time and that would prevent you from breathing properly. Have someone seen your scars?

-No…

-Then you should go to San Mungo to make sure everything is fine- Newt could not help but smile -I mean it, I'd be much calmer. Do it before you go to Africa, just a checkup.

-Okay.

Newt smiled at her and she sighed, getting up to pick up the dishes.

-I think I'm going to the ministry today to start investigating- he said, helping her with the glasses.

-It's a great idea. I'll go out and see if I can find more force fields.

-Alone?

-Seth will come with me.

Maia went to where her coat was and put it on under the watchful eye of Newt who pressed his lips unsure of letting her go alone despite the fact that she obviously knew the forest much better than he did, but after finding the magic fields, they had to be cautious. The woman looked at him as she buttoned the last button.

-See you at lunch- she turned to go to the main door, followed by Seth.

But the magizoologist went to her, licking his lips.

-Maia- she looked at him -be careful.

-Don’t worry, everything will be alright.

And everything was alright. More than anyone would have expected.

The woman couldn’t stop walking around the living room, waiting with anxiety for Newt. When finally he appeared, she approached him startling him.

-I’ve seen them.

-What?- he asked confused.

-I went back to the place where we found the aethonan and there were two men there. I could approach them but I couldn’t heard what they were saying, though they seemed angry.

Newt stared at her perplex. She had seen the men he had been trying to find for so long.

-You… You’ve seen their face?- he asked nervous.

-Yes, clearly, but I don’t know them…

-It’s okay, if you describe them to me, I can draw them.

-Or you could take out my memory- she suggested.

The man shook his head, his eyes opened wide.

-That’s too dangerous. Besides, I don’t know how to do it.

-I could guess so, that’s why I thought that, maybe your investigations about the Swooping Evil…

-But I haven’t actually tried it, Maia…

-I trust in you Newt- she said with determinate -I want you to do it, it will be better than any drawing.

He was not sure at all. On the one hand he admired her bravery but also thought she was blinded by a loyalty that still could not explain how he had earned it. Finally, Newt nodded, not knowing what to say, his gaze somewhere on the floor between them. He put the suitcase on the floor and let the woman get in before him. Maia sat down in the chair and watched as her friend fumbled with his things.

-You know it this goes wrong, it could erase some of your memories- Newt warned her still with his back to her.

-Everything will be fine.

-I don’t know you were so optimistic.

-I am not but I’ve seen you work, I know you are great so I trust you.

The man turned and smiled shyly before offering her a small viral with a bright blue liquid.

-You have to concentrate in those men, drink and I would catch your memory. I will keep it to see it with you- he explained.

-Okay- she sighed closing her eyes to concentrate.

He pulled out his wand, ready to take the memory, and a small jar in his other hand. Maia took a deep breath and took the viral to her lips, drinking in a swallow the liquid that tasted strong, piercing, like the fire whiskey but bitter. She wanted to give an arcade, but she stood and felt as if they were pulling a rope from her head. She did not dare to open her eyes, especially when the point of her forehead where the imaginary rope came out was stinging so much. Newt felt bad for letting her persuade him to do so. Maia gave a little groan and listened in the background as her friend said:

-A little bit more, a little bit more…

And suddenly everything ended. Newt had taken the memory of his friend and kept it in the jar. But he did not have time to leave it at his table since he had to catch Maia who leaned forward with eyes still closed.

-Maia, are you okay?- he asked worriedly as he slowly incorporated her.

-It tasted horrible…- Newt couldn’t help but laugh, which made her open her eyes with a small smile –it stings, but it’s okay. Nothing that is not bearable.

-Do you feel okay?

-Yes, yes…- she put her hands on Newt’s bíceps, he grabbed her by her elbows and helped her to stand up -do you have a pensieve?

-My brother gifted me one years ago- mumbled still worried - I think it's best that you sit while looking for the pensieve.

-Yes, I agree.

She sat back with Newt's help and leaned against the wall, sighing. It took the man a few moments to get the object they needed since he was still worried about his friend.