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romanrhodes · 2 years ago

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connections.

FAMILY.

father [npc] - Eric Rhodes, 68. mother [npc] - Pamela Rhodes (nee Sanderson), 43 (deceased). grandfather, paternal [npc] - Walter Rhodes, 82 (deceased). grandmother, paternal [npc] - Bonnie Rhodes (nee Cavanagh), 85 (deceased). older brother [npc] - Ryan Rhodes, 45. younger sister [0/1] - WANTED CONNECTION. sister-in-law [1/1] - Reyna Kendall, 39. The former wife of Ryan Rhodes. She works as a waitress at Sunny Side Up Diner, but Roman only knows her as an employee. Roman is unaware of Reyna's connection to Ryan - Reyna and Ryan married and divorced in the five years that Roman went no contact with his father and brother. cousins [2/?]; - Waverly Erickson, 30 (Meghann Fahy). Related through their grandmothers, who were sisters. Being 12 years older, Roman bonded with Waverly mostly through extended family events. He left town when Waverly was 8, but saw her occasionally when he returned home for holidays and special occasions. He learned the details of her life mostly from gossipy family members and the occasional conversation with the woman herself. He has reunited with Waverly since returning to East Haven, and she has offered her services to help at the farm.

PLATONIC.

childhood & school friends - WANTED CONNECTION new friends; - Andrew Jackson, 36 (Richard Madden). One month after Roman moved back to East Haven in early January, Andrew randomly turned up on Rhodes Farm, a nosey, helpful do-gooder. Roman’s first instinct was to turn him away, but the farm was in such a state and he really needed an extra set of hands, so he reluctantly accepted. Since then, the two have fostered a friendship, and Roman really enjoys Andrew’s company. After seeing Andrew eating sad-looking, store-bought sandwiches, Roman started to provide lunch as a thank you for his hard work. He developed a crush on Andrew, and for a long did he didn't make a move, not knowing if Andrew was interested in men. (See ROMANTIC for more details.) - Chantel Bedford, 40 (Hilarie Burton) Ranch hand at Davis Farm. Roman met Chantel in early March when he visited Davis Farm, and they struck up a conversation about livestock. Roman is wanting to get chickens and ducks for Rhodes Farm in early spring and Chantel offered helpful advice. She later turned up at Rhodes Farm, surprising Roman with a ‘starter package’ for his farm, and even offered to help out in the future. Roman understands Chantel to be a generous and supportive member of East Haven, and she’s helping to restore his faith and trust in building community. - Haven Sinclair, 37 (Shantel Vansanten). Roman met Haven when they both attended the local grief counselling group. Roman realised Haven lived in Maple Hills and that she didn’t drive to the counselling group, and offered to drive her home and pick her up in future. old friends - OPEN drinking buddies - OPEN wing-man/wing-woman [0/1] - OPEN friends with garden/kitchen benefits; - Andrew Jackson, 36 (Richard Madden). One month after Roman moved back to East Haven in early January, Andrew randomly turned up on Rhodes Farm, a nosey, helpful do-gooder. Roman’s first instinct was to turn him away, but the farm was in such a state and he really needed an extra set of hands, so he reluctantly accepted. Since then, the two have fostered a friendship, and Roman really enjoys Andrew’s company. After seeing Andrew eating sad-looking, store-bought sandwiches, Roman started to provide lunch as a thank you for his hard work. He developed a crush on Andrew, and for a long did he didn't make a move, not knowing if Andrew was interested in men. (See ROMANTIC for more details.)

friendly rival businesses; - Stevie Rivers, 33 (Brianne Howey). Owner of Patty’s Cafe. - Sydney Haywood, 34 (Rebecca Rittenhouse). Owner of The Garden. - Nancy Thompson, 53 (Winona Ryder). Owner of Nancy’s Bar & Grill. - Ruby Austin, 32 (Billie Lourd). Head Chef at Nancy’s Bar & Grill. mentor & mentee; - Charlie Davis, 55 (Jeffrey Dean Morgan). Owner of Davis Farm and Davis Sports.

STAFF. (employees at Sunny Side Up diner)

manager [1/1] - Luciana 'Lucy' Medina, 34 (Melissa Barrera). chefs/cooks - OPEN servers & pot washers; - Verity Wagner, 26 (Madelyn Cline). Part-time server @ Sunny Side Up diner.

ROMANTIC. situationship/dating [1/1] - Andrew Jackson, 36 (Richard Madden). One month after Roman moved back to East Haven in early January, Andrew randomly turned up on Rhodes Farm, a nosey, helpful do-gooder. Roman’s first instinct was to turn him away, but the farm was in such a state and he really needed an extra set of hands, so he reluctantly accepted. Since then, the two have fostered a friendship, and Roman really enjoys Andrew’s company. After seeing Andrew eating sad-looking, store-bought sandwiches, Roman started to provide lunch as a thank you for his hard work. He developed a crush on Andrew, and for a long did he didn't make a move, not knowing if Andrew was interested in men. During the Spring Celebration (early April 2023), Andrew told him he was gay, Roman confessed his crush, and they kissed. He wanted to ask Andrew out properly, but due to personal reasons, he held off on asking him out on a date. In mid-May, they have been on their first date. first love & first same-sex experience [0/1]- WANTED CONNECTION high school girlfriend - OPEN flirtationship/s - OPEN one night stand/s - OPEN friend/s with benefits - OPEN exes on good terms - OPEN dating app match/es - OPEN

ANTAGONISTIC.

former friends turned enemies - OPEN rival chef/s - OPEN mutual jealousy - OPEN frenemies - OPEN exes on bad terms - OPEN negative influence - OPEN

MISC.

neighbours on good terms; - Haven Sinclair, 37 (Shantel Vansanten). Roman met Haven when they both attended the local grief counselling group. Roman realised Haven lived in Maple Hills and that she didn’t drive to the counselling group, and offered to drive her home and pick her up in future. - Andrew Jackson, 36 (Richard Madden). One month after Roman moved back to East Haven in early January, Andrew randomly turned up on Rhodes Farm, a nosey, helpful do-gooder. Roman’s first instinct was to turn him away, but the farm was in such a state and he really needed an extra set of hands, so he reluctantly accepted. Since then, the two have fostered a friendship, and Roman really enjoys Andrew’s company. After seeing Andrew eating sad-looking, store-bought sandwiches, Roman started to provide lunch as a thank you for his hard work. He developed a crush on Andrew, and for a long did he didn't make a move, not knowing if Andrew was interested in men. (See ROMANTIC for more details.)

neighbours on bad terms - OPEN have mutual friends - OPEN friends of a sibling - OPEN

#wanted connections: roman #wanted connections #connections: roman

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gravityunforgiven · 4 years ago

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Right Where You Left Me (Kakashi x OC)

Pairings: Kakashi x OC, Jiraiya x Tsunade

Synopsis:

She was the daughter of a Legendary Sannin, He, a son of a disgraced shinobi. Fate brought them together but life tore them apart. Will they be able to take control of their destinies and find their way back to each other?

...Or will they be another victim of the cruel shinobi world they are both a part of?

Feel free to reblog!

Chapter Five

When Tsunade stepped outside the casino, she was frozen in her steps. She knew almost instantly that Akira was close by. She could still feel the faint but lingering presence of her chakra.

Akira’s here. She’s here.

There was no way Tsunade could have possibly mistaken Akira’s chakra for someone else’s. She may not have have seen her for a decade but Tsunade could never forget the familiarity of Akira’s presence. She knew it like the back of her hand.

Akira’s chakra has always been a little different than of a normal shinobi largely due to the fact that wasn’t like the rest of them either. The uniqueness of her chakra was hidden in plain sight and would have been very obvious if one knows what to look for.

By each passing second, Tsunade could feel herself sobering up. The sudden realization that her daughter was in such a close vicinity caught her off guard. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the emotions she had been trying to ignore for the past ten years.

She wanted to see her.

She had been meaning meaning to see Akira so many times in the last years that she had lost count of them. She had even gone as far as to reach the outskirts of their village only to turn back around and run for the hills. Tsunade just couldn’t face Akira. She was scared of what awaits her once she returned home, afraid of what Akira would say after she left her so many years ago.

She was terrified to be a burden for her daughter. It was never her intention to leave as long as she did, she only wanted to grieve properly and move on from Dan and Nawaki’s death but for some reason, a decade later, she was still grieving.

Tsunade didn’t exactly know what she was doing but she somehow found herself roaming around the unfamiliar village for the last person keeping her alive.

Just a glimpse. Just a glimpse then I’ll be gone. Tsunade kept repeating the words to herself. She had continously kept tabs on Akira through Jiraiya but there was nothing like seeing her in the flesh.

Tsunade was well aware of the fact that she had hurt her daughter and she knew that her sudden return would cause her only more pain. She just couldn’t do that again. She just wasn’t ready to put Akira through all of that all over again.

Though Tsunade could easily discern Akira’s chakra from a specific distance, she was certain that it was not the case for her daughter. Though it was clear that Akira was blessed with a remarkable skill in chakra control like her mother, Akira was just too young to remember Tsunade’s chakra. She was just so young.

It wasn’t long until Tsunade found her sitting on the bar of a sushi shop. Tsuande’s breath was caught in her throat. For a moment, the world around her disappeared and all she could see was her daughter. She was sitting on her own, her back faced Tsunade but there was no doubt in Tsunade’s mind that it was Akira.

She knew it was her.

Her hair that used to reach her waist as a child now fell just a little past over her shoulder in waves of light blonde, a familiar Konoha issued cloak hung neatly on the back of her chair but Akira’s gaze was worlds away. She spun a chopstick in between her fingers as she stared at practically nothing.

Tsunade realized Akira was here on a mission. Tsunade almost scoffed at herself for thinking otherwise. Of course, she’s here on a mission. What was I expecting?

She would never admit it even to herself but a part of her still hoped that her worst fears hasn’t become a reality. Throughout the years, Jiraiya had relentlessly assured Tsunade that there was no reason for her to believe that Akira loathed her. He had told her that Akira understood why her mother left but she knew deep down that Akira must have hated her for leaving. She hated herself for leaving.

What she did was cruel and selfish. But it was better than dragging Akira down with her to a pit of endless grieving and what ifs.

She had her glimpse of Akira. She had with her own two eyes how Akira had grown into an astonishing young woman. Tsunade knew she should leave. It was obvious that Akira was better off without her but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She knew she was being selfish yet again. Akira deserved so much better than her, she deserved a mother who can take care of her and not someone who needed taking care of.

Tsunade knew that the right thing to do was to keep her distance and she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or just her but she found herself weaving hand signs and masking her appearance before closing the gap that separated her from her daughter.

She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do when she sat on the stool next to Akira but the words came out of her mouth without her permission.

“You’re a long way from home.” Akira stopped mid-sip from her drink and looked at her right where the voice came from and found a woman clearly in her late 50s with graying hair and a smirk.

For the second time that night,Tsunade’s breath was caught in her throat. When Akira’s eyes pierced into her own, for a split second, she saw Dan’s face instead. Even when Akira was young, people had told her how much they looked similar but seeing at her now, Tsunade thought how wrong all of them were. Akira had always been so much like Dan than she was of her. They just didn’t know him enough to see.

Akira blinked a couple of times in confusion, unsure if she was the one being talked to by the unfamiliar woman. “I’m sorry?”

Instincts were suddenly taking over Akira’s entire body. She discreetly checked the shuriken holster on her left leg just in case the woman attacked.

“You’re Tsunade’s daughter.” She said as a matter of fact then casually orders a dish from the menu.

“Oh, no.” A defeated sigh escaped Akira’s lips. I know where this is going. She had encountered this conversation too many times than she wanted to remember. The resemblance between her and her mother kept giving away their relationship to the people Tsunade had a debt to.

“She owes you money doesn’t she?”

The woman chuckled, the lines on her face becoming more visible as she did so. “ She does actually.”

Akira shrugged nonchalantly, “I’m not paying for her.” Akira was definitely curious about the woman now. She seemed familiar, like they’ve met somewhere before though Akira was absolutely certain this was the first time she had ever seen the lady.

“Do I know you?” Akira’s eyes narrowed amd Tsunade’s heart skipped a beat.

“I used to know when you were younger.” That wasn’t exactly a lie in Tsunade’s part. She did know Akira as a child. Not anymore. The person sitting right next to her was completely different from the child who bid her goodbye on the village gates. That child was oblivious, unaware, still free from the gravity of her duties. This girl, no, this woman she was seeing bled of confidence and grace in ever action. Tsunade could see from her face how she had embraced her responsibilities wholeheartedly despite its burden. She had grown into someone Tsunade could only dream of becoming.

“Really?” Akira’s right eyebrow arched this time, still suspicious. So, Tsunade, still enamoured by the presence of her daughter, continued her cover story. She told her stories, facts only someone from the village would know and things no one would have known if they didn’t see Akira grow up. And true enough, Akira was convinced of her identity.

For what seemed like only a few minutes for Tsunade but hours in reality, the two exchanged stories with each other. It was much easier this way. To Akira, she was just a retired shinobi traveling the world, not someone living a life full of regrets. She told her stories of her time as a shinobi, the adventures, the missions, something she never had the chance to do when Akira was younger as she did not fully understood yet what it takes to become a shinobi. Still, she was careful to keep her cover on and noticed that Akira never mentioned any names. But still, it didn’t took long for Akira to succumb into the familiarity of the elder lady.

She didn’t have a lot of women in her life growing up. She had her friends for sure but Rin was gone, Kurenai was just only a few years older than her and even Kushina was not much older either. They were like her older sisters and Biwako Sarutobi became her honorary grandmother. The fact that the two most important women in her life died at the same night didn’t help at all. She didn’t have anyone to buy clothes with or talk to when her budding romance with Kakashi at the time became all too confusing. She went through all of these alone. Of course, she had Jiraiya but despite being the writer the Make Out Series, there were things only a fellow woman can understand.

As the older lady continued to speak next to her, Akira wondered if this is what it felt like to have a mother. The shinobi in her told her to shut up, pack her things and leave the woman who literally showed up from nowhere. She reminded herself that genjutsu was not exactly her strong suit but the other part of her was a little too assured that this woman was harmless and she was technically part of her old life. She was just so kind and she listened and laughed with her.

They talked about the village and how much it has changed over the last few years. Tsunade told her abour her travels and the places she had visited and it came to her knowledge that Akira had dreamt to travel sthe world as well. Not for missions, but for herself. When Tsunade asked asked what was stopping her, Akira’s answer was short but it was more than enough for her to see the dedication that she has for the village. Like her father.

“I guess I want to protext my people more than anything.” She answered with a shrug and a smile. Tsunade knew she meant each word from the look in her eyes alone. Akira told her how protecting the village was what she wants to do the most not because she needs to,but because she wants to. There was nothing else she would rather be than be a protector of her home.

“So you want to become Hokage, then? Is that what you want too?” Do you have his dream too?

Akira’s laugh filled the air. “No.” she chuckled. “I don’t really like paperwork.” This made Tsunade laugh herself. She guess that Akira had seen the mountains of paperwork from the Third Hokage and it did not look appealing to her either.

“ I prefer protecting the village from the outside. Besides, I’m better off at field work anyway.”

“Captain?” Their converstaion was interrupted by two seemingly normal shinobis to the normal eye but their all too familiar black cloaks immediately gave away their identities to Tsunade.

ANBU.

Akira quickly excused herself from their conversation and headed out. Tsunade was well aware of the fact that Akira had joined the ANBU at an age younger than what everyone was accustomed to but she was never informed that Akira had become a team captain. Both she and Jiraiya had been against the idea of Akira being an ANBU knowing how dangerous the missions they were sent to are but there was really nothing anyone could do when Akira sets her mind to something. All they could do was to watch and pray that she would come home every time.

The three talked in hushed tones but Tsunade heard enough to perceive that whatever their mission is, it was not going as planned.

There was a moment of silence between the three as Akira contemplated what their next move would be.

“Tell the others we’re moving out on the first light.” Her command was curt but spoken with absolute finality.

When Akira returned to her seat, there was a noticeable change in her mood. “Mission’s not going well, huh?” Tsunade asked though the answer was more than obvious by the look in Akira’s face.

Akira let out a deep and frustrated sigh. “I don’t really like long-term missions.”

“Someone waiting for you back home?” Tsunade took her chances and asked. She wondered if Akira had had the chance to fall in love yet. She hoped that Akira hadn’t yet as she wanted to be there for her daughter when she starts dating but the deep flush of red quickly spreading across Akira’s cheeks told her otherwise.

Oh.

Akira contemplated for a second wether she would divulge that information to the still annamed woman but before she could tell herself to stop, s smile was already forming on her lips.

“There is, actually.”

Man, I really should shut-up now.

Tsunade could see a gleam in Akira’s eyes as she told her how much this man means to her. All her worries from her mission seemed to disappear with the mention of the man. She looked incredibly happy and for that, Tsunade was beyond grateful.

If you ever find yourself in the Land of Fire, You should come by to the village. I think he would love to meet you.” Akira says as she gestured for the bill.

Tsunade would love to meet him as well knowing that she is forever indebted to this person for bringing joy into her daughter’s life.

The two women reached for the bill at the same time, and for a split second, their skins touched. All Tsunade could think about was heat.

Akira’s skin was abnormally hot against her. The medic ninja in her was sure that Akira had a fever of at least a hundred at the bare minimum.

“I got this. It’s the least I could do for my mother.” Akira says, pulling out a couple of bills from her wallet.

“You’re sick.” Tsunade placed a hand on Akira’s forehead and confirmed that she was warmer than usual.

Akira looked at her in confusion before dismissing her with a laugh. “I’m always warm.” She grinned. “That’s just me.”

Tsunade knew it must have been an effect of being the Okami’s reincarnation she had developed while growing up. It wasn’t like this when Akira was a child or she would have instantly noticed it.

Questions as to what else Akira may have developed plague Tsunade’s mind but she never had the chance to ask Akira because she was once again caught off guard when Akira placed her own Konoha issued cloak around Tsunade’s shoulders.

“Here. Looks like you need it more than I do.” Akira adjusted the cloak on Tsunade’s shoulder and zipped it into place.

“But it’s cold out-“

“I’m always warm remember?” Akira held the entrance curtains of the shop out of the way for Tsunade.

The two of them stood outside the shop where the moon was already shining bright and the streets were lit with street lights.

“You know between the two of us, you have more chances in seeing my mother more than I do.” Akira started. She knew that it was incredibly inappropriate to ask a favor from someone she had just met and whom she refuses to grace with her name but she was desperate. She had to see her mother even for a moment.

Akira had made it a point to not talk about Tsunade whenever Jiraiya was around knowing ythat the man was also having a hard time dealing with his own feelings and juggling his time between fulfilling his destiny and fathering Akira as much as he possibly can.

This woman was her last chance in order to talk to her mother and sparing Jiraiya.

“So if you ever see her, can you do me a favor and tell her to come home?” Akira looked straight into the eyes of her mother and Tsunade saw right through her and into the sadness Akira was trying so hard to conceal.

“Tell her that I understand that she doesn’t owe anything to me but I need to know-“ Akira’s voice broke.

“Tell her I need to know if it was me.” Akira forced a smile in her face. “I deserve at least that.”

I need to know if she left because I was different. Because I wasn’t like the others.

“Okay?”

“Of course.” There was nothing else Tsunade could say before Akira gave her one last smile - a smile that would haunt Tsunade for the rest of her days- before disappearing into the night with the hopes of seeing the kind woman once again

Tsunade was left on the street on her own ince again with only her thoughts to accompany her. Of all the possible scenarios that had ran through her head, never did she once imagine that Akira woulld blame herself for the decisions she made.

It was never Akira, It was always her who had the problem.

She had always been perfect to Tsunade’s eyes from the moment she was born. She was the one good thing that happened in Tsunade’s life. She was her miracle.

Tsunade promised herself that she would tell Akira that herself.

—————

Tsunade found herself standing outside the window of her daughter’s rented room, her eyes brimmed with tears as the gravity of what she had done all those years ago finally sinked in.

Akira blamed herself for something she had nothing to do with.

Just a few feet away from her, her daughter laid fast asleep on the futon. She was curled into a tight ball, the duvet only covering her lower body and the pillow that her head was supposed to be resting on, lay discarded on the floor.

Tsunade couldn’t help but smile. The familiarity of the scene she was witnessing felt right. It felt like home. She had done this thousands of times before, back when the woman in front of her was nothing but a baby that can fit right into her arms, then a young child whose abilities were one of a kind she posed a danger to her own, and now, a fine kunoichi who had already surpassed her predecessors in every aspect.

Yet despite that, Tsunade can still see the child she loved more than anyone or anything in the world. She can still see Dan in her. Akira may indeed inherited her mother’s looks but there was so much of Dan that lives in her.

She knew deep inside what she had to do. She needed to stop this nonsense. Dan may have been gone but he left her the most precious gift anyone could ask for and she was so busy tending to her own grief that she didn’t see who needed her the most.

Tsunade knew she needed to come home.

She needed to come home to Akira.

But she was a little too late.

Way too late.

—————

A/N: Thank you for all the support! I really appreciate them more than you can imagine.

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northernindigenousbeautyhailey · 3 years ago

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Stories of the Unsolved

17 years ago since The Disappearance of TAMRA KEEPNESS from the White Bear First Nations in

🇨🇦Canada🇨🇦

Stories of the Unsolved Stories of the Unsolved

years ago

EARLY LIFE:

Tamra Keepness and her twin sister, Tannis, were born on September 1, 1998 to parents Lorena and Troy Keepness. The family were from White Bear First Nation, located in the southeastern portion of Saskatchewan Canada, and resided in Regina.

Shortly after the twins were born, Lorena and Troy separated, resulting in the two girls splitting their time between their parents. The majority of the time, they lived with Lorena, her live-in partner, Dean McArthur, and their three siblings near downtown Regina, at 1843 Ottawa Street. The neighbourhood was known to have issues, particularly regarding poverty and other social problems.

It was no secret that the adults in Tamra’s life struggled with alcohol and substance abuse issues. Dean, specifically, had served two months of a three-month sentence for assaulting Lorena while in a drunken rage. Due to these issues, as well as reports of child neglect, Social Services were often involved with the family, with a total of 50 reports made to crisis workers.

Despite what some might call an unsteady home life, Tamra was a smart and caring girl. She fiercely loved her siblings, especially Tannis, and she frequently had a huge smile on her face. She was also known for being feisty and a bit mischievous, and she was always on the lookout for adventure. When not playing Mario Kart on Nintendo, she could be found climbing her favourite pine tree at the end of the block.

LEAD UP TO DISAPPEARANCE:

On the evening of July 5, 2004, Lorena, Dean and all five children were in the living room watching television. At some point, Lorena and Dean got into an argument, which they claim was about nothing serious. At around 8:30pm, Dean decided to leave the house to cool down. While out, he ran into Russell Sheepskin, a man who sometimes resided in the family’s basement, and the pair decided to grab a few drinks together. Before heading to the St. Regis Hotel, Dean made a stop at a nearby 7-11 to buy some milk for his and Lorena’s newborn baby, which he later dropped off at the house.

Lorena spent the majority of the evening with her children. Between 10:30pm and 11:00pm, she sent them to bed and decided to head to a friend’s townhouse located a block over, leaving her eldest, 11-year-old Summer, in charge. After a while, she and her friend went out to purchase more alcohol and Lorena stopped by the house to check on things. When she returned to her friend’s residence, she called Summer and told her to ring if she needed anything.

At 12:00am on July 6, Russell returned to the house, incredibly drunk. He made himself some food and checked on the children. He recalls seeing some of them, including Tamra, sleeping in the living room, meaning they must have come downstairs after Lorena put them to bed. A couple of hours later, Russell was smoking a cigarette on the front porch when he encountered Dean. The pair got into a physical altercation, resulting in Dean punching Russell and stomping on his head. Injured, Russell went to the hospital to get stitches. He claims he didn’t lock the front door before leaving.

According to Dean, after the fight he decided to walk to his aunt’s house, where he planned to spend the night. However, he ended up getting lost, so he didn’t end up arriving until two hours later, sometime between 5:00am and 5:30am. Police reports claim no one saw him during this time.

At around 3:00am, Lorena returned to the house to find all the doors locked. As such, she entered the home through a window. She was drunk at the time and doesn’t quite remember if she saw her children asleep in the living room. However, she has stated that she recalls seeing Tannis and Summer before she herself fell asleep on the couch.

DISAPPERANCE:

At some point on the morning on July 6, Tamra’s older brother, Raine, felt her leave the bed they shared. While he doesn’t remember the exact time, he does recall it was starting to get light out.

At 9:00am, Tamra’s grandmother came by for a visit and saw Lorena nursing a hangover. This is around the time Lorena herself awoke, as she had to open the door for her mother. Shortly after this, Summer and Raine left the house to attend a day camp at a nearby community centre.

Tamra was first discovered missing when she didn’t come down for breakfast. Lorena had told one of the children to go wake her up, as they were going out for a walk, but she wasn’t in her bed. After checking nearby playgrounds and contacting friends and relatives, Lorena reported her daughter missing at around 12:15pm that afternoon.

INVESTIGATION:

The search for Tamra grabbed the attention of the entire city and would become the largest and most expensive in Regina’s history. At first, patrol officers checked the neighbourhood to make sure she hadn’t simply wandered away or gone to another house, but after they could find no trace of her, the search intensified. The Regina Police Service set up a command post in the parking lot of a church in the 1900 block of Ottawa Street, and hundreds of volunteers, police and RCMP cadets began the search on foot, horseback and in the air. They scoured streets, yards, neighbourhoods, alleys, manholes and trash cans looking for her and even took the search to a local landfill and to areas outside the city. While clothing and a child’s shoe were discovered, they didn’t belong to Tamra, and overall little trace of the missing girl was uncovered.

Since the initial search, there have been others throughout downtown Regina and around the family home. Lorena signed consent forms allowing investigators to search the house. She also provided them with her DNA. Besides seeing a window that had been broken during the fight between Russell and Dean, they found no signs of forced entry or a struggle.

Police questioned sex offenders in the area. They also obtained surveillance footage from area bars, gas stations, convenience stores and a nearby Greyhound depot.

To help develop a timeline for the night before, investigators brought in the family, including Tamra’s siblings, for questioning. In particular, Dean, Russell and Lorena were under intense scrutiny. At the time, investigators felt they weren’t being completely forthcoming with information and were overall not happy with the gaps and inconsistencies in the version of events they were told. The three denied the allegations and expressed that investigators were focusing too much attention on them and not enough on finding Tamra. To help move the investigation along, they named five people they believed could be suspects, including a pedophile who had befriended Tamra some time before.

A few days after Tamra disappeared, an Amber Alert was issued. There are different reports as to why it took so long for one to happen. Some sources say the Amber Alert system hadn’t yet been implemented in Saskatchewan at the time, while a spokesperson for the Regina Police Service said the circumstances of the disappearance hadn’t met the criteria for an alert.

The disappearance soon made national headlines. While appreciative of all the coverage the case was getting, the family soon grew frustrated with both the media and police due to the way they were being treated. Rumours soon began to spread about what happened to the missing girl. One person said she had been seen at a dollar store with an older woman, while another, which has since been disproved with hospital records, claimed Tamra never existed and had been made up in order to scam money from Social Services. A third rumour, which was spread by business owners in the neighbourhood, claimed detectives were looking for a middle-aged white man named “Rocky” or “Roch”. However, police never confirmed if this was true.

To show support for Tamra and the family, residents would wrap ribbons around trees and leave both teddy bears and angels on the steps of the Keepness house.

On July 13, 2004, a $25,000 reward was issued by the Regina Police Service for information about the case, this after searches for Tamra had been suspended. The case was quickly changed from a missing persons investigation to one that was criminal in nature.

On July 19, 2004, Dean was charged with assault causing bodily harm in relation to the fight he��d had with Russell on the night of Tamra’s disappearance. While he tried to appeal, he was denied and sentenced to nine months. Two days later, Tamra’s siblings were removed from the house by Social Services and placed into foster care. Neither government officials or the police would say if this was related to the case, but the house was once again searched after they left.

Just under a month after Tamra went missing, a vigil for the missing girl was held at the family’s house.

On August 11, 2004, Troy was charged with assaulting Dean with a baseball bat, during which he sustained minor injuries. Troy told investigators that he’d gone over to the house to try and get answers about his daughter’s disappearance.

In September 2004, unsealed search warrants revealed police had evidence to believe Tamra had been abducted, as blood had been found on the floor, on the front porch and on bicycles sitting on the porch.

That same month, investigators searched Muscowpetung First Nation, approximately 60km northeast of Regina. The week-long search involved 30 people from the Regina Police Service, the RCMP, Montreal Lake Cree First Nation, and Search and Rescue Regina. While a reason wasn’t given as to why the search had moved north, it’s believed investigators were trying to establish a connection between Tamra and a burnt-out Volkswagen van found on the reserve. The van had been stolen just 10 blocks from the family home on the night the young girl went missing and a jail guard named Sherry Ann Rose had told police that she and a former inmate had stolen the van, picked up Tamra and dumped her body in a ravine on the reserve. A massive search was conducted, with special attention given to ravines and gullies. The waterways were drained with compression pumps and thoroughly searched, but nothing of interest was found. It was later deemed that remains found in the van did not belong to Tamra, and Sherry Ann Rose confessed to having made the story up in order to get her abusive boyfriend locked up. As a result, she was charged with mischief.

Pasqua First Nation was also searched based on tips from the public and visions from First Nations elders.

A six-person task force was established to investigate leads in the case. It would eventually be pared down to just two detectives.

In December 2004, Walter William Obey of Muscowpetung First Nation was charged with assaulting Sherry Ann Rose. He had also been charged with stealing the van that had been found burnt out on the reserve.

At one point during the investigation, Troy was charged with assaulting a female. He claims the assault occurred due to the stress he’d been enduring as a result of Tamra’s disappearance. He was sentenced to house arrest for the charge.

In June 2005, a new team of investigators were assigned to the investigation. That same month, a memorial march was held to commemorate the one-year anniversary of Tamra’s disappearance. This would be replaced the next year by an annual barbecue.

In October 2005, searchers brought in cadaver dogs to aid in the investigation. They searched around Regina for three days, with a specific focus on the north end of Winnipeg Street, Wascana Lake and Wascana Creek. This would be one of the last major searches for Tamra, as the search would be scaled back in April 2006.

Dean has publicly stated that he feared for his safety during the early days of the investigation because he felt the police and the community believed he played some role in Tamra’s disappearance. This sentiment sometimes resulted in the family member’s safety being put into jeopardy. In one instance, three people jumped Lorena after accusing her of selling her daughter in order to buy drugs, something she has repeatedly denied.

In August 2008, seven officers were assigned to work exclusively on the case.

The reward for information was doubled to $50,000 in June 2014. The increase was approved by the Regina Board of Police Commissioners and it has been renewed every year. The police chief hopes the continuation of the reward will allow the family to see they still care about finding Tamra.

During 2014, a hand-drawn map of Muscowpetung First Nation was uploaded to Reddit, with the user claiming the wells on the reserve contained Tamra’s remains. According to the user, she’d found the map amongst the belongings of a deceased relative and that her grandmother had gotten it from a late aunt who’d drawn it up based on visits to a person in prison. While she didn’t have any firsthand knowledge of the investigation, she recalled her family talking about wells and felt the map might be worth something to the investigation. As for why she shared the map on Reddit instead of contacting the police directly, the user claimed to have previously submitted tips via the RCMP, the Regina Police Service and Regina Crime Stoppers, only to never receive a response.

Upon learning about the map, investigators looked to see if it held any real value. This resulted in a search of the reserve, which was done by the Regina Police Service, members of Tamra’s family and the Fort Qu’Appelle detachment of the RCMP. They looked through over two dozen wells with a special camera, but found no evidence that Tamra had ever been there. While an attempt was made to contact the Reddit user in the hopes of learning more about the map, investigators have said they don’t believe it to be an authentic piece of evidence.

The experience was very upsetting for Tamra’s family. It’s been noted that the search prompted renewed interest in the case.

The family has consulted with psychics, elders and mediums. The police have also been in contact with elders, who told them they’d had visions of a child near rocks, trees and water.

In May 2015, Tamra’s case was one of 122 highlighted by the province of Saskatchewan during Missing Persons Week.

In July 2018, a class action lawsuit was filed against the federal government. Tamra’s case was one of many listed. It claimed the federal government had breached the charter rights of Indigenous families to security and freedom from discrimination, and that numerous negative experiences were had as a result of the alleged mishandling of cases. It also claimed that the RCMP shared a responsibility with the government, given it’s a branch of the federal government. The claimants sought $500 million in damages for the RCMP’s handling of the investigations and $100 million in punitive damages.

In May 2019, the RCMP launched a week-long campaign to bring more attention to 45 missing children in Canada. Tamra’s case was one of the one’s highlighted.

Toward the end of 2019, the Regina Police Service renewed its commitment to solving the case. It’s still an active investigation and is currently in the hands of the Cold Case Unit. Investigators are still reviewing and working on case files, and they continue to regularly receive tips – approximately 16 a year. While no arrests have been made and no evidence found to explain how and why Tamra went missing, it’s believed she is deceased and that foul play was involved. However, full details of the investigation haven’t been released due to the ongoing nature of the case.

Lorena has said she doesn’t like to talk about the early parts of the investigation, given the negative focus that was on the family at the time. She also shares that the numerous rumours took a toll on everyone. She agrees with investigators that someone out there is currently withholding information and, as such, she and the family continue to pursue leads on their own time.

THEORIES:

1) The general theory in the case is that Tamra was abducted by a stranger. Some people think she may have wandered away and been abducted by a driver who was cruising the area at the time, while others cite the home’s location. It’s less than a block from the Oskana Community Correctional Centre, a halfway house for federal parolees, and is located near the Salvation Army’s Waterston House, which is known to shelter former inmates and drug and alcohol users. Some feel that Tamra’s disappearance may have been at the hands of someone staying at either location.

While there are many theories surrounding who could possibly have been involved, Lorena is certain her daughter was taken between 9:00am and 10:20am on July 6, 2004. This is further supported by Raine’s version of events, which state Tamra most likely left the room during early/mid-morning.

2) Some in Regina feel Tamra may have been abducted by someone in the drug trade or potentially sold by her mother in order to pay a cocaine debt. The authorities asked Lorena if her daughter’s disappearance was related to the drug trade in some way and Lorena fiercely denied it.

3) There’s a slight chance Tamra’s disappearance is related to the argument Dean and Lorena had on the night she went missing. However, this is seen as unlikely, as both have said the argument was not about anything major and was simply a small spat between partners.

4) It’s possible her disappearance is the result of an accident. While this line of thinking opens up to many possibilities, one idea brought up theorizes that Tamra may have gotten lost after leaving her home. Possibly scared, she then crawled into somewhere so small that she’s never been found. If this is the case, then it means the young girl has most likely passed away.

5) Some have speculated that Tamra’s unstable home life could have played a role in her disappearance. They feel the evidence for this stance comes from the investigators’ theory that Lorena, Dean and Russell have not been completely forthcoming regarding the events of July 5 and July 6, 2004. However, as aforementioned, all three individuals claims they’ve been completely truthful with those investigating the case.

6) A final theory held by the family involves a drifter that used to stay at the house. Lorena informed police of the woman, whose name is currently unknown, as she used numerous aliases. However, it is known the children called her “Big Auntie”. She is said to have been a sketchy character who frequently lied to Lorena. She had been staying at the house before Tamra’s disappearance, but left after she and Lorena had a falling out. She has not been seen since.

Is it possible she abducted Tamra in revenge, or could she have had another motive for abducting the young girl, if she was indeed involved?

AFTERMATH:

Every year, the community holds a barbecue in Tamra’s honour, just a few blocks from where she disappeared. It’s held by the Regina Treaty and Status Indian Services, and the Regina Police Service sends officers to help serve food. According to the family, they hold it to show everyone they’re still looking for Tamra and to also lend support to other families of missing and murdered Indigenous women. They’ve shared that seeing the amount of people who come out and show support has helped them hold onto the hope that one day she’ll be found. Until that day happens, the barbecue will be held yearly.

Unfortunately, Lorena no longer has any family pictures of Tamra, as someone threw out a large portion of her property a few years ago. The only images she has of her daughter are those featured on the missing persons flyers.

Many of the investigators who initially worked on the case have since retired. However, they are still dedicated to solving the case and say it frequently comes to mind.

Lorena has moved repeatedly since Tamra disappeared, having been evicted numerous times. She spends her days working odd jobs and has shared that she fell into sex work not long after her daughter went missing. Her other children have never been permanently returned to her custody and the three babies she gave birth to after Tamra’s disappearance have since been taken by Social Services.

Tamra’s twin sister, Tannis, is currently in university.

Russell Sheepskin passed away on January 1, 2009. Those investigating the case wonder if he knew any more information that may have been useful in finding Tamra.

Lorena feels hopeful that she’ll one day see her daughter again. She does not think Tamra is dead, despite what investigators have said.

Troy has shared that he tries not to dwell on the case, but that it’s hard not knowing if Tamra is alive or dead. He says he harbours guilt over having lost custody of his children in the years leading up to her disappearance.

CASE CONTACT INFORMATION:

Tamra Jewel Keepness went missing from the 1800 block of Ottawa Street in Regina, Saskatchewan Canada on July 5, 2004. She was five years old, and she while what she was last wearing is unknown, it’s believe she could have had on a light blue striped halter top with pink accents; light blue jeans; and either rubber boots or pink and white shoes. She may have been barefoot. At the time of her disappearance, she stood at 3’5″ and weighed between 35 and 40 pounds. She had bobbed black hair and brown eyes. She has two circle-type birthmarks on her stomach, one dark and the other lighter in colour, and a scar on one of her legs, just below the knee.

Currently, her case is classified as a missing person. If alive, she would be 21 years old.

If you have any information regarding the case, you can contact the Regina Police Service at 306-777-6500. Tips can also be submitted to Child Find at 1-800-387-7962 or anonymously via Regina Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-8477.

Russell Sheepskin👇🏾

Summer Keepness👇🏾

Troy Keepness👇🏾

Lorena Keepness👇🏾

Tamra Keepness 👇🏾

Raine Keepness👇🏾

Dean McArthur👇🏾

Ellen Keewatin👇🏾

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unfolded73 · 4 years ago

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Kitchen Gossip (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

Yesterday Jen Gunter published a piece in the New York Times celebrating the WAP, and so I guess somehow Jen Gunter and Cardi B led indirectly to this, the little fic that pushed me over 1,000,000 words on ao3.

Rated Teen, 1452 words. David stumbles into some girl talk with Marcy and her sisters. (ao3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

David picks up the pinot noir bottle and upends it over his glass and… nothing.

He can probably do without another glass of wine. If he stops drinking now, he’ll be stone cold sober by bedtime and will thus be best-positioned to seduce his husband, the fact that they are sleeping in Patrick’s childhood bedroom down the hall from Patrick’s parents during this visit notwithstanding.

A cheer erupts from the living room.

On the other hand, Patrick is going to be watching hockey with his relatives until late, and David’s got just enough of a buzz going that another glass of wine will make the next couple of hours much less boring.

He sets the empty bottle down and goes into the kitchen in search of another.

Marcy has wine bottles lined up on the counter, and David sets his glass down, grabbing one and peeling the foil away.

“Mom told me once that I wouldn’t be that interested in sex after menopause, but I’m not finding that to be the case,” a woman behind David says surprisingly loudly, given the topic.

He doesn’t want to whip around and stare at the person speaking, so he focuses on inserting the corkscrew and twisting it. He didn’t look over at the women clustered in the kitchen when he came in, but he’s pretty sure that’s Patrick’s Aunt Laura talking.

“Well, Mom was probably just as happy to have an excuse not to have sex. She never talked like it was something she enjoyed.” That’s Marcy talking now. About Patrick’s dearly departed grandmother’s sex life. Not a topic David expected to hear anyone talking about during this visit to his in-laws’ house. Or, you know, ever.

The women are giggling to themselves as David deftly extracts the cork from the wine bottle. “God rest her soul, but she may have thought the female orgasm was a myth.” He supposes, from context, that this is the younger of Marcy’s sisters talking. Jennifer. The short one who makes the Nanaimo bars that he’d be willing to commit unspeakable crimes for.

“Or she just didn’t want to let us in on the secret in case we ran out and lost our virginities in high school,” Marcy says, and the women laugh.

“It was too late for me by the time she started lecturing me about it,” Jennifer says as David fills his glass.

“David!” calls Laura, the oldest sister. Wincing, he turns around, expecting her to tease him for inadvertently bumbling into this private sisterly conversation. “Bring that wine over here; I need a refill.”

He does as instructed, shooting Marcy a look that he hopes is apologetic for intruding on her bonding time with her sisters. She smiles and waves her hand to dismiss his apology, and when he finishes topping off Laura’s glass, Marcy holds hers out as well. He ends up emptying the bottle, between himself and the three sisters who are gossiping in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Laura says to Jennifer, “You could fill a book with the stuff that Mom didn’t teach us about sex.” Continuing as if he’s not still standing there. So David starts to turn and go.

“Did your parents teach you about sex, David?” Jennifer, the youngest, asks him. Her lips are stained red with the wine, and he’s guessing she’s had at least as many glasses as he has. Maybe more.

He tilts his head to the side and tries to answer honestly. “Mm. They weren’t shy about talking about sex around me. There wasn’t any shame about it. But ‘teach’ is probably the wrong word. They never sat me down and had a ‘talk’.” He makes air quotes with his one free hand.

Marcy and her sisters are hanging on his every word, nodding in sympathy, and it’s disconcerting but also kind of nice.

“When I was eleven, my mother had her hairdresser Evan talk to me?” He shudders a little. “I guess because he was gay and she I assumed I was too.” He waves his hand to try to shoo that memory away. “But it was kind of horrifying. In retrospect, not appropriate topics for an eleven year old.” He sips his wine.

“Did Mom tell you that oral sex was unsanitary?” Jennifer asks her older sisters.

Marcy raises her eyebrows. “I don’t think she ever mentioned to me that it existed.”

“I’m not sure which is worse,” Jennifer says, and then shakes her head. “No, mine is worse. It kind of gave me a complex about it. I had to get over the idea that it was dirty. The idea that no man would want to put his mouth… you know. Down there.”

David blinks, and wonders if he should try to slink away before these women (who include his mother-in-law) remember that he’s standing there listening to them talking about mouths and vaginas. But also, he has something to contribute to this conversation, and the alcohol has vanished the filter between his brain and his mouth.

“To be fair to your mother, the culture instills in women a lot of that shame. There are all these products telling women they don’t smell good or taste good or that they’re too wet or not wet enough…” Oh god. Did all of that just come out of his mouth? In front of Marcy?

But all of them are nodding at his sage words. “David, you’re so right,” Laura says. “I had to talk to my daughter about that. She’d gotten this idea that her labia of all things should look a certain way. From porn, I guess.”

“As if we don’t have enough pressure from the media about our visible body parts,” Marcy says, taking a big drink from her wine glass.

“I mean, you aren’t going to be putting your mouth down there on any women anyway, are you, David?” Laura slurs, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Well, not now,” he says, tipsy enough not to be offended by the assumptions of his… aunt-in-law? Is that a thing? “But I’m pansexual, so I enjoyed doing that in my day.”

Laura, meanwhile, is drunk enough to be unphased and unashamed. “Oh, I thought you were gay.”

“Well, it just goes to show you can’t make assumptions about sexual orientation based on how someone acts,” he explains easily. “My hockey-loving, beer-drinking husband in there only enjoys sex with men, while for me, gender doesn’t figure in to who I’m attracted to.”

Jennifer takes another sip of her wine. “I might have been bisexual…” She looks at David. “Or pansexual. If it had occurred to me to explore any of that before I married Eric.”

David smiles at her. “Your sexual identity doesn’t have to align with who you’re sleeping with. You can be bi or pan and still be in a monogamous relationship with a man.” He gestures up and down at himself, the dregs of his wine sloshing dangerously. “Case in point.”

She nods but looks uncertain. He wants to hug her and take her by the hand and guide her into the wonderful world of queer identities, because it’s never too late. Reining himself in from any inappropriate demonstrations of affection, David drinks and then looks down at his wine glass, surprised that it’s already empty.

“We need more wine!” Laura says, and she’s going over this time to open a bottle.

“So what did Mom tell you?” Jennifer asks Marcy.

Marcy sighs. “That I would regret it if I didn’t save myself for marriage. And that part of being married was, you know. It was the whole wifely duty thing.” She rolls her eyes. “Fortunately, I knew better than to listen to any of that.”

A part of David is intensely curious to know more, but he has just enough sense not to ask Marcy to elaborate. He holds his glass out to let Aunt Laura fill it.

“So your parents assumed you were gay and then you had to… what? Come out to them that you also liked women?” Laura asks.

David leans back against the counter and nods. “That is almost exactly what happened, yes.”

The women nod at him, the overly aggressive agreement of drunk people. “That must have been difficult in its own way,” Marcy says.

“Well, we all have our crosses to bear,” David says.

~*~

“How did you get so drunk, is the question,” Patrick says, putting a glass of water and a couple of headache pills on the bedside table next to David.

“It was your mother’s fault,” David groans. “She and your aunts were talking about your grandmother’s sex life, and things kind of went downhill from there.”

Patrick puts his hands on his hips. “Ew, David.”

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek ff #schitt's creek fic #marcy brewer #my fic

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thetellingplace · 4 years ago

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My mom told me when I was seven years old that my second toe was ugly because it looked like my dad’s, who she was divorced from. She called it a hammer toe because she said is was so ugly she wanted to beat it with a hammer. She also told me I didn’t have pretty legs like my older sister, when I’d asked to enter a pantyhose contest that my sister was in – she didn’t win btw lmao.

At forty five years old, I still don’t wear shorts or show my legs that often, and I usually keep my toes covered with socks, and hardly wear sandals in summer.

You won’t find me showing my body in public, because my mama taught me a long time ago that my body is ugly. That my body is not pretty. That my body needs Jesus, but no matter how much I do or say or strive…I will still be an ugly girl who needs Jesus.

And she never once apologized. My entire life, she said I was difficult and a bad daughter…and I needed Jesus…even now. she says I need Jesus, so she’s basically saying I’m going to hell because she doesn’t deem me as Jesus-having-worthy. And I’ve loved Jesus my whole life, since I was a little girl and went to church with my cousins, aunt and uncle…because my mom never went to church when I was a child. Yeah, the irony, huh.

After divorcing my dad, my mother became an alcoholic, frequently visiting the local bars, frequently coming home drunk, or drinking at home and getting drunk and being plastered in front of me. My older sister did most of the raising, and she resented me for it. She resented my mother for it. We’ve never been close or had a relationship, my sister and I. I always felt she didn’t like me very well.

It was just the vibe.

My mom used the excuse of being deaf to not go to church, then in the next breath, she’d condemn me for not going to church as an adult and say I was a sinner and going to hell because I needed Jesus. No matter how strong my faith is or how much I personally love and trust Jesus in my heart, my mom will still say I need Jesus.

A woman, who, in real life (doing it for show in public on fb doesn’t count) doesn’t pray, read the Bible, go to church, or treat people well – especially her family, tries to tell me I’m living wrong. She’s obese, has been most of her life, and lives among mounds of clutter, as she’s a hoarder.

She’s been hoarding all of my adult life. There is only a path to walk through her house. You can’t even visit her because there is no space to sit down…but she says I need Jesus.

My mother has always found a reason to disapprove of me or my life or the way I‘m living my life.

She always found a reason to pick arguments with me and treat me poorly and ignore me, then say it was my fault for being a bad daughter.

She’s always found a way to make me feel bad about myself and make me feel unwanted and unloved. Like I was born to some foster family who didn’t really want me, but since I was forced on them, they’d keep me until I was old enough to get away...and that’s exactly what I did.

I left my mom when I was fifteen. I stayed with my dad until I was seventeen. I moved in with my older sister right before turning eighteen. I moved into my first apartment when I was eighteen. I never thought of them as family because they never made themselves feel like my family.

I was born to them. They weren’t born to me. It shouldn’t have been me trying to win their favor or gain their love. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. They made it the opposite of how it should’ve been for a little girl growing up. That’s the kind of family I had...an opposite family.

I’ve always felt like they were my birth family whom I never really knew. Just these strange people I know by name...

and apparently...blood.

My mother’s never been interested in anything about me.

She acts jealous over any success I achieve. She advised me to stay with my abusive husband because she stayed with my abusive dad for twenty years. She doesn’t think I can do any better than an abusive husband because she couldn’t…but I AM NOT HER.

She has always favored my older sister over me. If she had something nice to say about someone, it was always my sister or my sister’s kids. Funny enough, now that my mother and sister are both older, they had a falling-out and are not currently speaking. And my sister is moving to a different state in about a month. She literally told my mom she was moving to get away from her.

Karma, I guess.

We all get what we truly deserve in the end.

She’s never been proud of me or told me so. She was never interested in being a grandmother to my children…just ignored them all their lives.

And yeah, my mom has always emotionally abused me…for forty five fucking years she’s been the big booming negative voice in my head.

I have a lot of baggage because of it.

She blames me for everything. I’ve never felt good enough. Never felt pretty…never felt loved. I know she doesn’t love me. She never did.

#the telling place #mothers and daughters #toxic relationships #childhood stories #my life in writing #growing up lost #personal stories #storytime #my writing

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icariamusing · 4 years ago

Photo

CHARACTER BASICS

FACECLAIM: Vanessa Hudgens

NAME: Zella Ramos

AGE: 33

BIRTHDAY: May 4, 1987

OCCUPATION: Mortician

HOMETOWN: Athens, Greece

PETS: Gatsby (German Shepard)

POWERS

Necromancy & Chlorokinesis. Can create flowers at will and raise the dead for few minutes to get their last words and requests. She can't keep people alive for long but its usually enough time to get a couple last minute requests out.

BIOGRAPHY

Efren had been working non-stop on a case when he met PERSEPHONE. She had strode into the library smile on her face, flower in hand, leather jacket over her shoulders and colorful hair bouncing with each step He was entranced by her and the two spent the next two weeks entangled in one another. He knew something was different about her, something in-human but he never truly questioned it. Persephone, going by the name of Lily, flitted in and out of Efren’s life for the next 9 months where he happily doted on her and her growing belly. That was when THOMAS was born. He was a happy bouncing baby. Despite Efren’s busy life he doted on his new son and spent any time he wasn’t working with the quickly growing toddler. Persephone vanished not to long after; but Efren understood and soon found a woman who loved him and his son.

They were married a year later. The first year of their marriage was amazing -- until they got the news that Lyka was infertile. Heartbroken and distraught the two were left unsure of what to do… when in walked Lily once again. After discussion and the reveal of who she was, she granted them with one more child, this time a daughter, ZELLA. Zella was just as happy as her older brother when she was born and Lyka and Kenug couldn’t be happier with their family.

Zella would say her childhood was pretty good, she had a loving older brother who doted on her, parents who, though were very busy, still loved and cared for them and a grandmother who spent every day with them. The family had a cabin not far from the outskirts of Athens, where they lived, in the woods. They would travel two to three times a year to stay in the cabin for a week to three at a time. This -- was Zella’s favorite time. She was away from school, from normal life and up in the woods and nature. It was here in the cabin that Tao and Zella DISCOVERED THEIR ABILITIES. Wondering around the edges of the cabin Zella was admiring a flower and Tao was play fighting an imaginary villain with a stick when the flower Zella was touching promptly died. She hadn’t realized it in that moment, but she was annoyed with her brother for ignoring her and not letting her join in… and her anger had transferred through her and into the flower killing it. She was only 7 at the time and started bawling her eyes out. Tao rushed over to check on her and saw the dead flower, knowing it had made his sister so upset he reached out to touch it -- and it sprung back to life. The two were in shock completely flabbergasted. They then searched for another dead flower and again, brought it back to life. The joy they both experienced had caused the small clearing they were in to burst to life with a field of grape hyacinths.

This field, deep in the woods near their cabin became Zella and Tao’s sanctuary. Over the years they cultivated it to their liking, it was their place to practice their powers over the plants and to create an area of calm tranquility. She grew thousands of flowers, made a swing out of vines; tao created large trees that encompassed the field, the tree in which they put the swing and he created a pond for them to relax by. IT WAS THEIRS AND FOR YEARS THEY TOLD NO ONE. Tao was 13, Zella 11, when they finally brought their mom, dad, and grandma to the spot, and upon seeing its beauty their father broke down and told them the truth of who they were birthed from. The shock of discovering who their mother affected them quite differently. Tao was overjoyed to realize their mother was Persephone; Zella was angry. Angry she never came around since they were born, she loved her parents of course, but Persephone? she wanted to meet her, she wanted to know who she came from and the fact she was 11 and had no idea? Well. That was just UNACCEPTABLE.

That night she went back out to the field and screamed to the sky demanding Persephone come to see her, demanding answers. And so Persephone did, she looked exactly like she had when she had met her father. That pastel punk goddess who had a sly smile on her face. The two talked for hours; she learned all she could about Persephone and why she did what she did. By the end, Persephone had told her that there was a darker side of her power, she wasn’t sure how exactly it would manifest but that to not be surprised it death had something to do with it. When Persephone left she grew a SINGLE POMEGRANATE TREE in the dead center of their sanctuary as a reminder. The next day it was completely filled.

It was on that same trip that she met DYLAN. A huntress of Artemis but a daughter of Eros. The girl was up in her mother’s tree. Zella was not happy about this and demanded the girl to get down and leave the poor tree alone, she had been eating the pomegranates, and in young Zella’s mind that was not right. It took all of a few moments of talking for the two to become fast friends. From then on any time Zella came up to the cabin the two met in the garden and spent any free time they had together. She was 15 when their friendship turned to something more -- a heated conversation turned to Dylan KISSING Zella out of nowhere and that was it. The two were suddenly inseparable and together.

They kept in contact through letters, a secret phone and visits. They were dating long distance and seeing each other a guaranteed three times a year… but occasionally Zella would take the moped and drive the hour and a half trek into the forest to the glenn to see Dylan. Things were amazing for the two for a good two and a half years until one day Zella’s dad found out. They had tried to hard, Tao (who was now going by Thomas with his friends) had even covered for her so much, but he found out about her relationship. He was FURIOUS over so much, one that she was dating a woman, two that it was a daughter of Artemis and three, that it had been kept from him for years. One fight turned into two, into ten… and each time it ended with the same idea “THE OATH THEY SWEAR IS ONE THEY WILL NEVER BREAK FOR ANYONE. SHE WILL NOT CHOOSE YOU OVER ARTEMIS, THAT’S HER FAMILY. SHE WAS RAISED THERE. YOU WOULD NEVER ABANDON US AND SHE WILL NEVER ABANDON THEM. SHE’S ONLY GOING TO BREAK YOUR HEART.”

Of course -- Zella fought that and fought it hard … that was until she noticed Dylan pulling away, missing their meetups, and the distance that seemed to grow between them. What should have been a monthly hang out turned into every two months and for shorter windows of time. Before long they had gone almost four months without seeing one another and barely talking… Zella took it as a sign they were over and she forced herself to MOVE ON. It happened quickly she had been friends with Danby for years and after spending more time together he asked her out. Graduation was fast approaching and college was looming on the horizon so Dylan went back to see Zella and tell her about her plan for college, Danby came up and that was that. They were over for good.

TW: DEATHS, SUICIDE + CAR ACCIDENT

Zella and Danby moved to London, they got themselves a little apartment a cat and started college together. Zella into biology and Danby into criminal law. They spent time seeing plays, eating at new places, drinking with friends and traveling between their semesters. They took trips with friends and on one such trip they had gone to Rome, late one night they were all walking home from the bars when their friend Ricardo stepped into traffic not paying attention and was killed instantly by a truck speeding down the road. Shock set in almost immediately but Danby moved into action rushing to their friend’s side -- Zella followed a moment later. Danby was sobbing at his friends death, Zella knelt down to be next to her boyfriend and her fallen friend, but when she laid a hand on the man -- her mother’s dark powers, the ones she mentioned so so long ago, that she had only used once on a little mouse when she was 16, sprung back to life and Ricardo took a GASPING breath. Shock, fear and confusion. Ricardo knew he was dead and even said so, he passed along a message to give to his parents, to his girlfriend who was back in the hotel feeling a bit sick, and to them… Then when Zella reached out to tell him she would miss him and always love her friend, she touched him finished her sentence and he passed on. It was in that moment that Zella knew what she wanted to do with her life.

Now 25, the two ended up engaged and preparing for their wedding, but first … they wanted to move back to Greece and this time ended up on Icaria where her brother (Thomas as he liked to be called now) and his girlfriend (Allegra) lived. They were as happy as could be, Zella had become a MORTICIAN, Danby was one of the top criminal lawyers on icaria but their lives were slowly drifting apart and in doing so she missed the signs. She missed what she can now look back on and say was obvious. Danby was struggling, he was exhausted, stuck and unsure of everything, he depressed and showing every sign he could that he needed to get serious help -- and yet Zella didn’t see it and she came home one day to see him dead on the floor.

She broke down. She cradled the man sobbing over his body and in doing so she used the darkness of her powers. He took a deep GASPING breath and smiled up at her he told her he loved her, but as she reached out to touch his face he slipped back into death’s embrace and was gone for good. She couldn’t get him back. She called the cops to report his suicide. They got her into therapy a week later and she’s been going ever since.

Therapy kept Zella sane and put together but once Danby was gone she threw herself into her work. She figured if she couldn’t get that peace, beyond the I love you, she would make damn sure she could give that peace to everyone else who came into her funeral home. Zella started spending more time with her brother and his girlfriend. Slowly she started to heal and feel better despite the loss. She was 27 now and with the urging of her brother she started to date once again. She started to see the world in a better light. even when she needed to have her appendix removed. Three days in the hospital was nothing. She was happy to have a couple of days off, even if it did mean surgery. She called her brother and asked if him and Allegra could come keep her company at the hospital while she recovered, they happily agreed… but they didn’t show up the way she had hoped.

It was the middle of the night when the nurse came in and told her what had happened; an accident. Allegra was alive, she was banged up and hurt but she’d be okay, that Zella could go see her in the morning…. But her brother, Thomas, had not been lucky. He was gone. She had thought the loss of Danby had wrecked her but losing her brother? The one solid link she had, that one truly unbreakable bond. Her brother who she was as close to as one could get without sharing a brain was gone. She saw Allegra the next day and the two didn’t speak but instead sat silently holding one another.

TW END

Zella and Allegra soon went back to Athens to join her mom and dad where they buried Thomas’ body in a small family plot. It was on this trip that Zella felt compelled to go back to the cabin, to their SANCTUARY. She spent three days there before she saw a huntress. She stopped her and when she asked where Dylan was she was told “DYLAN GOT KICKED OUT OF THE HUNTRESSES A LONG TIME AGO. FELL IN LOVE WITH SOME GIRL -- SUZI OR SOMETHING? WHATEVER HER NAME WAS. I THINK THEY RAN OFF TOGETHER. EITHER WAY ARTEMIS DOESN’T WANT PEOPLE NOT LOYAL TO THEIR OATH. GOOD RIDDANCE IF YOU ASK ME.” and vanished before Zella could ask anything else. Standing in her garden the last part of Zella broke. The loss of Ricardo, Danby, of her brother Thomas and now the realization that Dylan was kicked out of the Huntress and that Dylan was prepared to leave Artemis for her was that straw that broke her back. She sunk to the floor and destroyed EVERYTHING. The garden died that day all that was left standing was the pomegranate tree her mother had made and the tree with the vine swing her and Thomas had made together.

By the time she left the garden a couple of hours later Zella’s memory had been altered. DISSOCIATIVE AMNESIA or her brain decided that the trauma that she had endured over the past couple years was to much forced her to forget the details of some of the situations of the specific time and moments that caused her the most pain and anguish. This means she doesn’t remember how Ricardo died, she doesn’t really remember what it was that killed Danby, she just knows she was with him in his last breaths, she doesn’t remember that her phone call is what prompted Thomas and Allegra to get in that car, and Dylan…. Dylan she doesn’t remember loving because that itself is too traumatic. Not that she knows that’s what it is. Zella is a shell of who she once was, shes back on Icaria doing her job as a mortician and going through the motions. Maybe one day she’ll remember it all. Maybe she wont. In her mind though…. She’s okay.

LAUREN | SHE/HER | 30 | EST

#Persephone

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luciferpens · 4 years ago

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( VANESSA HUDGENS, FEMALE, SHE/HER ) ⌇ have you seen Zella Ramos around icaria? they are the 33 year old child of PERSEPHONE. they remind me of SECRET GARDENS IN A FOREST CLEARING , FLOWERS AT A FUNERAL, PEARLS ON BARE SKIN AND VINTAGE CLOTHES SMELLING OF MINT . They’ve been on the island for 12 years.

BASICS

FULL NAME: Zella Ramos

NICKNAMES: Zella, Z, Ella,

FACE CLAIM: Vanessa Hudgens

AGE: Thirty-Three

SEXUALITY: pansexual & panromantic

DATE OF BIRTH: May 4, 1987

GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis female she/her

EDUCATION: Masters in Biology; B.A. Mortuary science

OCCUPATION: Mortician and owner of the only funeral home on Icaria

GODLY PARENT: Persephone

GODLY POWERS: Necromancy & Chlorokinesis: Can create flowers at will and raise the dead for few minutes to get their last words and requests. She can't keep people alive for long but its usually enough time to get a couple last minute requests out

BIO + BULLET POINTS

Had an older brother named Thomas.

They were the best of friends and both children of Persephone.

Discovered her powers at 11 and thats when she met her mother Persephone.

Met Dylan at 11 the two became best friends and then started to date at the age of 15 until they were 18.

Then moved London with her boyfriend Danby to go to college.

TW: Death suicide and car accidents

A friend was killed in a car accident and thats when Zella discovered her necromancy skill of bringing a soul back to a body for a few moments to get their last words and wishes.

at 25 Zella and Danby were engaged but Danby, stressed and depressed dies by suicide.

Zella slowly heals and by 27 is doing better but needs to get her appendix taken out.

Brother and SIL get in a car accident that results in Thomas’ death on the way to see her in the hospital

Funeral is held back in Athens. After funeral Zella goes to childhood garden and finds out that Dylan was kicked out of the huntresses because she loved Zella.

Zella develops dissociative amnesia and doesn’t remember many details of most of these traumatic memories.

Returns home and goes through the motions as a mortician not really realizing she’s missing a lot of her past.

TW: DEATHS, SUICIDE + CAR ACCIDENT

TW END

#icaria: intro #ITS SO LONG IM SORRY #her muse possessed me I sweara #Zella #Zella: Chats

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angelrider13 · 6 years ago

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Guys, I wrote a thing. Have ~2,500 words of worldbuilding and feels. I’m thinking this is about a year or two after our glaive fam has settled in Insomnia.

@hamelin-born, @phoenixwithahoardoflibraries, @starofthemourning, @charlottedabookworm, @theperidotshade, @sparklecryptid, @luxroyalty

Nyx stretches out his shoulders as he walks, stifling a laugh. Tredd and Crowe are going at it behind him and Libertus looks like he’s three seconds away from grabbing them both by the scruff and shaking them like unruly puppies. Luche is studiously ignoring them no matter how many times Tredd tries to get his attention. Axis and Pelna are absorbed in a discussion about some magical theory that he couldn’t even begin to follow with Sonitus throwing in a word now and then. Luche catches his eyes and sees his smirk and rolls his eyes.

This night off will be good for them – training has been rough the past few days, getting them ready for an upcoming mission that’s a little bit outside their norm, and all of them could use a break. A night of drinking and good food is what they need.

But when Nyx steps into the bar, he sees someone that makes him freeze.

Luche, standing right behind him, is instantly on alert, catching the others’ attention. Nyx only has eyes for the woman sitting at a large table in the center of the room. He’s only met her a few times, but he would know her anywhere. She looks up from the beer bottle in her hands and smiles at him, beckoning him over.

Nyx goes, only vaguely aware of the others following after him. “Mother,” he greets, ignoring the sharp breath sucked in behind him.

“Storm child,” she greets in return, and her voice echoes – like rushing water, like a crashing wave – causing a hush to fall in the bar.

They are in the heart of the Galahdian district. Everyone knows the Mother even if they’ve never met her. Of his group, Nyx suspects he’s the only one who has. He remembers the day his grandmother introduced them, all gleeful laughter and bright smiles, as she teasingly called the woman that’s sitting before him his great grandmother. He knows her, recognizes her on sight, but the others know her just as well for all they’ve never met her.

“Sit with me for a while, little warriors,” Leviathan, Mother of the Seas, Thalassa, first of the Drowned, says to them.

Nyx easily slides into the chair next to her as the others’ pull up chairs of their own. He feels the eyes of everyone in the bar on them even as conversation picks up again.

“There is magic living under your skin that is not your own,” she says as she gestures at the bartender.

“We joined the Kingsglaive,” Nyx explains, “The King shared his magic with us.”

Leviathan hums and takes a sip of her beer as the bartender brings each of them their own bottle. “Yes. The Lucii have long been gifted in such ways. The magic is in their blood and always will be. Will you indulge me, little loves? Let a tired, old woman tell you a tale?”

“Of course,” Luche says, and Nyx wants to laugh at the light pink that dusts his cheeks when the Tidemother graces him with a smile but manages to refrain.

“The magic that now lives in your skin is old,” she says, “Older than even Solheim. It is from a time when Humanity was young and the Astrals were new. There was a pair of siblings, twins, a man and a woman, with wanderlust in their hearts and wind in their souls. They did the World Mothers a great service and were in turn blessed as thanks.”

“’Power is a gift of hope, of light, of love,’ the Dawn Mother told them, ‘Use it well.’ ‘Power is a curse of pride, of pain, of avarice,’ the Soul Keeper warned them, ‘Use it wisely.’ And they did. The siblings used their power to heal, to protect, to guide. They taught their children and their children’s children the same. ‘Use it well,’ they told their blood, ‘Use it wisely.’”

Leviathan looks at each of them intently and Nyx feels her gaze pressing down on him like a physical weight. “The World Mothers blessed the siblings’ line with their grace, right down to the blood. And blood is blood, no matter how thinly spread out over the generations, so the magic stayed and though time eventually turned the truth into little more than a story as it always does, the lessons remained.”

Here Leviathan stops, gaze going distant, fingers idly twirling the beer bottle in her hands. “There was a child born to this blessed line after the fall of Solheim,” she says softly, wistfully, “A child that grew into a man, a warrior, a healer. A King. He used his power well and he used his power wisely. He healed and protected; he was both the sword and the shield.”

And Nyx knows this story – they all do. The story of the First King, of the Sage, of the man who held the Starscourge at bay for so long that it turned his blood as black as the starless night sky and still he did not falter. The story of the Immortal Accursed, of the Fallen King, of the Nameless Wanderer.

The story of Leviathan’s Stolen Child.

“The sword-master deemed the power too much for one and, with the help of the killing cold, tore the power in two,” she continues, a rumble entering her voice as an old anger flashes across her eyes. But it’s gone as quick as it came, rearing its head and turning away just as fast, saved for those who deserve it. “Blood is blood, no matter how thinly spread over the generations,” she repeats, “The line of Kings you know today is descended from the brother from so long ago, while your Oracles descended from the sister. The power was split between the two lines – the Kings given the Soul Keeper’s blessing, the Oracles, the Dawn Mother’s.”

“But the price of power is steep and the price of power tampered is steeper still,” the Tidemother says solemnly, “The magic under your skin is not a toy, little warriors. It is not the poisoned dagger you thrust into your enemy’s heart in the name of vengeance. You swore an oath on the blessing of your maker, Etro, the Keeper of Souls, Guardian of the Dead, and were in turn granted the same grace that lives in the King’s veins. It is a great gift. And a terrible curse.”

“Use it well,” Leviathan tells them with all the gravity of a binding vow, “Use it wisely.”

Nyx feels the words settle into his bones and he doesn’t hesitate to promise, “Yes, Mother.”

The others echo him, only a second behind, and Leviathan smiles at them, proudly, fondly, a teasing light entering her eyes, cutting the solemn mood as she raps her knuckles against the table.

“Now then,” she says, “On to the real purpose of my visit.”

She waves a hand and Nyx follows the gesture to a table in the far corner. There are over a dozen people crowded around it, all with their hoods drawn up. They stand at Leviathan’s prompting and the two smallest figures dart forward with a shriek.

“Uncle Axis!”

Nyx is vaguely aware of Axis making a strangled sound somewhere behind him as chaos erupts in the bar, but all he can focus on is the woman in front of him. She’s pulled down her hood, is looking up at him with a trembling smile, tears on her cheeks, bright gold in her eyes.

The same gold that shined in their grandmother’s eyes.

“Selena,” he breathes out, voice catching, and he’s reaching out with shaking hands because she was gone, his sister was gone, he saw the fire –

And then Selena is in his arms, clinging to him, choking out sobs into his shoulder.

“Selena, Selena, Selena, Selena,” he chants as he rocks them back and forth, pulling her into him and lifting her up with ease.

She wraps her legs around him and squeezes closer still. Nyx feels her head shift, her chin hook over his shoulder, one of her hands untangle from his shirt.

“Libs,” she chokes out – and oh gods, her voice, he’d started to forget what it sounded like – as she reaches for the man that was another brother to her growing up, “Libertus –”

And Libertus is there, wrapping himself around them both. Nyx can feel him trembling, can feel the hitch in his breath, but he’s there with them and –

“Crowe,” he rasps, “Get your ass in here. Selena, Libs adopted while you were away –”

Libertus releases a wet laugh into his hair.

“Shut up, hero,” Crowe says roughly and Nyx says nothing about how she sounds like she’s crying as she curls into his side.

His family all in one place in way he never thought they would be. He glances up, sees Leviathan still sitting at the table, beer in hand, watching them all with sad, fond eyes.

Thank you, Mother, he thinks.

She turns to him, catches his eyes, and smiles. It’s a small thing. Gentle. Soft. She toasts him with her bottle and tilts her head in acknowledgement and Nyx hears the sound of a crashing wave in his head followed a rumbling laugh.

He presses a smile into Selena’s hair and curls up in his family’s arms.

He’s home.

Axis’s world has narrowed down to the two small forms in his arms.

His niece and nephew, his older sister’s children, her twins, that he thought lost when Galahd burned. They’re warm and solid as they cling to him, breathing, alive.

“Mom’s gone,” Avis says quietly into his neck, fingers trembling under the force of her grip on his jacket.

Axis closes his eyes as that wound is ripped open anew, his heart aching as his eyes burn. “I know,” he says, somehow managing to keep his voice even, “I know.”

“There were bad men,” Atlas says, looking up at him, gold eyes far too old for his face. They used to be brown – the same brown as him, as his sister, their mother. “Bad metal men with red eyes and Mom said run and we did, but there was a river and it was fast and – ”

“Styx?” Axis cuts in to ask, because Atlas looks like he’s about to start hyperventilating if he doesn’t.

His nephew nods miserably. “Mom said to swim, but…”

Axis knows that river, remembers it. It was more rapids than anything, all white foam and rushing water. Children were warned away from it. It wasn’t swimmable and everyone knew it. Why would his sister run there?

“Mom said to swim,” his niece repeats, and Avis looks up at him with the same bright gold eyes as her brother, “But we couldn’t, and we told her and she said,” Avis’s breath hitches and her eyes glaze with tears, lips trembling, “She said Mother would save us. That we just had to ask and she would save us.”

“She pushed us in,” Atlas says quietly, “She pushed us in and then the bad men were there and –”

Axis can see it. His sister, desperate and afraid, MTs closing in on all sides. A rushing river at her back. And her children. Her children who were looking to her to save them. Her children who weren’t even ten yet, who were so young, who deserved to live far more than she. It’s an easy choice. Axis can see it.

He smooths his hand down his nephew’s back. “Your mom knew what she was doing,” he says, “You’re here right?”

Avis nods solemnly. “Mother found us. She taught us the sea and then said we could chose what we wanted.”

“We wanted Mom and Nanna and you,” Atlas says mournfully, “But Mother said she couldn’t give Mom and Nanna back.”

“She promised to find you though,” Avis says seriously, “She said if choosing you was what we wanted, she would find you.”

“We wanted you,” the twins say in unison.

Axis feels his eyes sting and doesn’t bother to try and hold back the tears this time. “Thank you,” he says around the burn building in his throat, pulling Atlas tight against his side as he presses his forehead against Avis’s. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Atlas sniffles wetly against is neck and Axis could care less about how gross it feels. “You’re our uncle,” he grumbles with all the belligerence of a small child even as he curls in as close as he can, “We love you.”

Avis frames his face with her small hands. “Thank you for being here to choose.”

Something in Axis settles for the first time since Galahd burned.

He can breathe.

Thalassa slips out of the bar quietly, unnoticed, as her children reunite with their loved ones. She takes a slow, steady breath, closes her eyes, and tips her head towards the sky. Sometimes she wished she didn’t remember. The yearning for her little brother is so strong, it’s a physical ache. She misses him far more than she ever thought she could, far more than she understood was possible. But she knows that if she didn’t remember, she would never bother. She would not have her children, would not have her new family.

It’s pain, yes, but a good, bittersweet kind. One that heals as much as it hurts.

She opens her eyes to look at the presence that’s appeared next to her. It’s a man with a staff longer than he is tall and a beard the same silvery-gray of stormy clouds.

“Thank you, sister,” Ramuh says quietly.

Thalassa smiles softly and slips her hand into the crook of the arm offered to her, shaking her head. “They are as much mine as they are yours,” she says, “It was not for you, but my own selfish reasons.”

“Yes,” Ramuh says dryly as they walk down the street, “Saving lives and reuniting loved ones without anyone prompting you. How very selfish.”

She laughs, grinning up at him. “Terribly selfish,” she confirms, leaning into her storm brother’s arm, “They same way all the best people are.”

Ramuh huffs at her but says nothing and they walk in silence for a while.

“Aegeus would have punched me first,” she says after a few blocks, longing and wistful, “Then he would have shouted and cried at the same time. Then he would have hugged me.”

“You miss him,” Ramuh states.

“Yes,” she replies, “Always.”

“I’m sorry,” her storm brother says, sadness in his eyes.

She shrugs because there is little anyone can do about it at this point. Even if she were not Leviathan, she still died. They still would have been separated. “Perhaps one day, when we are no longer needed and the Soul Keeper grants us our rest, I will see him again.” She nudges him with her elbow. “I could introduce you and you can tell him all of the crazy stories I never want anyone to know.”

Ramuh smiles at her and presses a kiss to her temple. “I would like that.”

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camp-half-mess · 5 years ago

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One Eternity Too Many

I? Am an angst slut? And apparently Danae and Elvaid are easy victims? I have no excuse tbh... In this AU, Danae is a mortal (an ex Vampire Hunter) and Elvaid, well, a vampire. Let’s see how this went...

-A

---

The monitor beeped steadily as he held her wrinkled hand in his, gently stroking its back. She looked exhausted, but happy, glancing around her room at her family; Davina and her twins -guess one could say the twin genes were running in the family-, and, of course, Elvaid, unchanged after all those years, green eyes full of worry and sorrow. Danae squeezed his hand weakly.

"It's going to be okay."

He didn't reply, whining softly as he looked down. 'You're dying, how is that okay?!' He wanted to scream, to cry, to throw a tantrum, to find death and fight her face to face, to curse whatever god decided to make him immortal.

First his mother, then Luka, and his sister and now Danae. Why must all the people he loved leave him like this?! How long until Davina and his grandchildren follow the same path?! How long until he lost everything he had built?! 60 years of work, of living with her, of building a life from the ground up, all about to be gone in the blink of an eye!

Human lives were so short.

Elvaid's vision blurred with tears and Danae squeezed his hand once more.

"Vampire boy… Elvaid… don't cry… it's okay…"

"No… no it's not…"

"It is… It's normal, all of us die one day… at least I can do it with you by my side."

"Don't say that… it's not- it's not okay, you shouldn't die!"

She smiled sadly, cupping his cheek with her free hand.

"Life's a bitch."

"I'll punch them both… life and death… one for being a bitch and the other one for existing."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Don't care. If it keeps you here with us I will."

"Elvaid…"

"That's my name!"

Danae sighed.

"I don't have the energy to argue with you."

"Then don't."

She lovingly stroke his cheek.

"I love you."

"I love you the most."

"Then move on."

"No."

"You have to."

"..."

One of the twin sat at the end of the bed, looking anxiously at his grandmother as his sister squeezed their mother's hand. Davina ran her thumb on her knuckles, trying to comfort her. She hated seeing her parents like that; her dad wasn't supposed to be sad, he was supposed to be laughing, joking around, bouncing happily and teasing her mother. Not crying in an hospital like that.

"If you can't do it for your sake, do it for mine, Elvaid."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

He huffed, a tear rolling down his cheek as he glanced nervously at the monitor. Her heartbeat was slowing down. He pulled his chair closer to her bedside.

"I should have tried biting you "

"Kinky."

"This way- this way you'd-"

His vision blurred despite him wearing his glasses and he started crying, silently at first, then hiccuping as he squeezed her hand tighter.

"Hey… it's okay… please don't cry… I don't- I don't want my last image of you to be a sad one. I'd rather see your smile again."

Elvaid attempted to wipe his tears away with his free hand and smile, but all of his acting talent wasn't enough this time.

"I c-can't! Tha gaol agam ort! Chan eil mi ag iarraidh gun bàsaich thu!"

"It's… okay…" Danae repeated, closing her eyes. "It's okay… death… is just… temporary…"

"No! No it's not! This is just bullshit spewn by the Church to indoctrinate more people!"

"Shh… It…'s… okay… you're… here, it's… o...k...a…"

The old woman's hand fell limply on the bed as she no longer cupped her husband's cheek nor held his hand back. No breath was moving her chest any longer and the monitor in the room started beeping louder to alert the doctors of her death. The twins started crying as their mother pulled them in her arms, looking at her own mother with pain and disbelief; her father still desperately holding the latter's hand as if his grip could hold her back from the dark pits of death.

"Tha gaol agam ort... Cha dìochuimhnich mi thu, Angelfish..."

XXX

After Danae's death, both Delia and his daughter offered him to join them; the first back with the rest of their clan, the second with her and her kids, arguing that the twins would love to see their gramps more often. Nevertheless, he refused; living with a near carbon copy of his wife was too painful and all he wanted was to be left alone. By the time the funerals were over, Elvaid had picked back one by one all of his hold habits. First, the cigarettes, nothing better to ease his nerves than a smoke every now and then… until he reached the point of a batch a day; then came the fights, bar fights, street fights, club fights… against humans, hunters, vampires and witches, he didn't care, all he wanted was to vent out his anger; and then came the starvation, and the weeks without an ounce of sleep; the alcohol, drank in an amount that would have killed any human.

Of course, this behaviour wasn't without worrying his daughter, whom soon found herself spending most of her free time with her father, forcing him to feed himself, to rest and to sleep off most of his drunkenness. Elvaid despised it. He shouldn't be the one that needs help, he shouldn't be the one to break down like that, that could no longer be left on his own. He was an adult, the father, he had responsibilities, he was the one that should be supporting Davina, not the other way around.

Time flies by differently when you're immortal and it becomes so, so easy to lose 100 years in the blink of an eye. You spend it drunk, you forget the concerned look your daughter gave you, the way she'd force you to drink water, to drink blood, the frown on her face, her eyes glistening with worry and love.

And then she died.

Maybe… maybe half-bloods like her lived longer, but they weren't eternal either. And if Elvaid thought the lost of another lover had prepared him, if he thought he'd no longer be affected; losing a child is nothing like it. It's as if a part of yourself was ripped away from you, as if you had lost everything you had left, as if your life was ending for a second time.

What was left of Elvaid broke completely.

He barely ever left the slowly crumbling house, stopped eating altogether and had nothing but alcohol for sole companion. The day Delia tried to visit him, he promptly locked her outside, refusing to even see her face -was it out of shame or because he wanted nothing but to be forgotten and waste away?-, then came Pyrrha, Liang and Jason, all of them to no avail. His own grandchildren didn't even manage to get him to open the door and soon, they were dead too.

For another century, Elvaid would go to any length to forget, to taste this void he oh so desperately craved but couldn't reach. The rare moments he would go out, finally unable to hold back his pulsions, he would go on a rampage and kill a few families, his own rage and hatred mixing with his hunger. Why were they so happy?! Why did they have the right to live, age and die together, but not them?! Why did he have to live forever and ever and ever?!

Soon, hunters came for him, but none lived; centuries upon centuries of fighting had made him one of the best, most effective killers of his specie and no one had been a match. Perhaps his countless victories could be attributed to his reckless acts and his little to no care about his survival? As expected, his murder sprees were starting to draw attention, everyone's attention. He was endangering the other vampires and witches of the area, but he didn't seem any close to stopping nor cared. Once more, his old clan tried to talk with him, but he refused. Against their will, the larger vampire community sent killers after him.

None survived.

Elvaid had gone feral.

Someone else needed to step in.

It had been almost three centuries since the lost of his wife when Delia knocked on his door for the last time. Ignoring Elvaid's drunken protestations and his exhortations to leave, she entered. 'You'll forever be welcome in our house', they had told her, the day they had bought it. Nothing could hold her out if she wished to enter. The house was about to crumble on itself, old paint whitened by the sunlight, all blinds open despite everything. Elvaid was laying on the old living room floor, a bottle of Scotch in hand, covered in a mix of blood, burns, cuts and vomit, barely even awake. His sharp fangs were glistening in the light and his green eyes, animalistic in a way, seemed transfixed by an old family picture, left in a broken frame on the floor. He was crying.

Delia knelt beside him and he grumbled something in a mix of Gaelic and English, closing his eyes. She gently slid the bottle out of his grip, owning a whine, yet surprisingly no aggressive behaviour. Perhaps he was too exhausted. Perhaps he had been waiting for her all this time. She pulled his head on her laps, gently brushing away his tears.

"Can't do this…"

"It's alright."

"I want them back…"

Delia stroke his hair gently.

"Are you sure?"

Elvaid nodded tiredly.

"Alright. You deserve respite."

The older vampire kept playing with his hair gently and he gave her a tired, broken look.

"Close your eyes… It'll be painless."

He did as told and she moved her hand to his neck.

"Rest well, my child."

Delia broke Elvaid's neck.

……….

………

…….

……

…..

….

…

"Vampire boy… wake up! You've made me wait long enough like that, don't you think?"

#writing #AU writing #oc #ocs #oc writing #pjo oc #pjo ocs #elvaid #elvaid ro'leah #danae #danae jackson #vampires hunters and witches AU #delia #delia of delos #ig she's there too #angst #mod a #-a

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oddsnendsfanfics · 6 years ago

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But That Makes You Family

Genre: Fan Fiction (Animal Kingdom) Pairing: Craig Cody/OFC Warnings: Drinking, Death, Sexual Content, Language, Drugs Rating: R Length: Chaptered Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: I have had this idea floating around for a while, figured why not write it? Plus, I keep hearing the world needs more Animal Kingdom fics.

Catch Up Here

Oceanside, California a little under 3,000 miles from the city Olivia Ealey had called home for the last eight years. As a girl it had been difficult to imagine ever leaving Oceanside, striking out in the world on her own, never in her wildest dreams did she see herself living the slow and steady New England life. Visiting Connecticut as a child Olivia couldn't wait to return back to the sun and surf. Who knew a place with four seasons would be such a save haven.

Cheap drug store sunglasses hid her eyes, she'd picked up the yellow shades somewhere around Toledo, Ohio. They had been serving her well and despite the bright colour they didn't look half bad on her. Head against the window of the truck, she watched as the streets grew familiar and the scenery updated itself from when she had been a girl, riding her favourite purple bike through the same neighbourhood. Back then there had been less stress and even lesser concerns for what was going on in the world around her.

“You still with me?” Deran Cody's familiar and calm voice prodded into her thoughts.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry I'm such shitty company. I'm still tired from the drive.” Olivia smiled at her acting chauffeur.

“Why did you drive, anyway? Flying would be cheaper and faster.” Deran reasoned turning onto the street of their destination.

Olivia shifted around in her seat, turning away from the window to face her oldest friend. “Because, you don't get to see anything when you fly. Besides, it's summer, and what better way to spend it than a road trip?”

“We clearly have different ideas of fun.” Deran mumbled with a teasing laugh.

“You should try it, I think you'd like it.”

“If I can ever get away from the bar, maybe I'll drive over and visit for a few weeks.” Deran added, flipping the signal light to indicate his turn into the drive way. “Who knows, maybe I'll like it so much I'll never come back?”

“You'd come back, the surfing there is fucking awful.”

An avid surfer, Olivia wasn't thrilled with the waves on the east coast, but they would hold her over until she could return on her visits to California. Deran would take one look at the Atlantic waves and be back in the Pacific before dinner time.

Sitting in the drive way, the truck's engine faded from a soft roar to dead silent, when Deran turned the keys. Olivia hadn't been inside of these gates in nearly five years, the last time she had walked out of the Cody Compound had been a terrifying and liberating moment. Allowing herself to break free from the tiny strings that this family could hold over a person.

“You coming?” Deran glanced over, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Olivia hadn't noticed him open the driver's door, while he continued to sit beside her.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” she sniffed hard and nodded.

A vibration coursed through Olivia when she shut the truck door behind her, the heavy door making a louder thud than she felt it needed to. Following Deran around the garage, into the pool area, Olivia took note of the tiny details. The house was the same as she remembered, new curtains and more beer bottles laying around, but it was as if this place never changed. Deran's mother was particular about how she liked things to be around her home, even when she was behind bars at the local lock up.

“Where is everybody?” At the Cody house, there was always somebody around. No matter what, you were never alone and Olivia never forgot that detail.

“Inside.” Deran nodded toward the lavish sliding glass doors.

Growing up three houses down from the Cody house had been an experience. Olivia, like every other Oceanside native, had heard all of the rumors and the gossip. Wild parties, endless drugs and booze, the speculations that surrounded the family and their ... business. It was a free for all and at the helm of the ship Janine “Smurf” Cody. Ruthless, cunning, backstabbing, and terrifying – all while smiling and being the perfect neighbour.

Directly under Smurf, until recently, had always been Barry “Baz” Blackwell. Adopted into the family, he ran the show. Keeping his brothers in line and keeping compliant with Smurf. Next came Andrew or Pope – Olivia was never sure of where that nickname had came from. Trouble through and through, Pope was loyal to his family and had a reputation of being the Cody to stay away from. Olivia had heard that Pope's twin sister, Julia, had passed a few years back, leaving her teenage son in the care of his grandmother and uncles.

After the twins and before Deran came Craig. Craig Cody was something else, deadly good looks, and a lovable dumbass to boot. He tried hard, yet never seemed to get himself clean long enough to live up to his potential. The real source of Olivia's problems since she had hit eighteen.

Olivia had met the youngest son, Deran Cody, on their first day of second grade. The soft and shy, baby of the family had been sat next to her because Miss Rosen felt they could help one another. Over the years the two remained friends, entering high school together, partying, surfing, and getting into general trouble. No matter how hard the law fell on them, Deran never rolled on Olivia.

“J where's Craig?” Deran's voice bellowed through the halls, searching for his brother. “I have something for him.”

The boy, J, in the kitchen remained glued to his seat shrugging in reply. When he bothered to look up from his laptop, his eyes glued to the woman in the kitchen.

“J this is Olivia.” Deran caught the introduction. “Olivia I think you remember J?”

“It's been a while.” Olivia added with a small wave. She had met Josh once or twice, when he was a small child. “You grew up, J.”

“Yeah, I guess that happens. Why do you want Craig?” J ignored the woman in the house. His attention directed to Deran.

Placing three bottles of beer on the counter, Deran slid one to Olivia and one to J, before taking the third. “Because Olivia doesn't have much time for a visit.”

Rolling his eyes, in a true teenage fashion, J took a long drink of the beer and licked his lips. Olivia remembered being that age, she also remembered what it was like being a teenager in the Cody house. Smurf didn't have may rules and it made you believe that you were King, or Queen, of the world at times.

“He's out, had to run an errand. Call him, if you're so desperate to see him.”

Nagging wasn't Deran's style, a single text demanding his older brother come to the house was good enough. Craig was a curious creature, never had curiosity failed to get the best of him; he'd show. Sooner rather than later, too.

Long dark hair, wild as ever, Craig strode into the house in his usual gate – a striding walk that made his size look somehow graceful and like a clunky neanderthal all in one motion. His bright blue eyes were cast down on the screen in his hand, he was grumbling about whatever urgent meeting Deran had called him to. Since his mother had landed in jail, these damn meetings seemed to happen every hour.

“Dude, shut up.” Deran groaned loudly, a beer ready for his brother. Craig would need something stronger later, for now this would do. “Now, be polite and say hello to our guest.”

A double take in Olivia's direction, Craig froze for a fraction of a second. Olivia hadn't been in this house, or anywhere near him really, in years. The last time they had been face to face, she had walked away and told him he wasn't welcome in her life.

"What is she doing here?" Craig skirted cautiously around the woman in the kitchen.

Like a scared cat, he shifted around on the tips of his toes, ready to make his escape if the need arose. Craig was not in the right frame of mind to be dealing with Olivia right now. Talking, hell thinking about Olivia, took a great deal of preparation and mental capacity that he did not possess.

"Craig Cody." Her lips drew into a tormenting smile. "Long time no see, I half expected you to be dead by now."

Craig scoffed, clutching his beer. "Not for your lack of trying, Livvy."

"Alright children." Deran stepped between the stand off taking part. "No bloodshed in the kitchen, Pope is pretty anal about anything that stains."

"How is Andrew?" Olivia turned her attention away from the bastard Craig.

"Pope is...Pope?" Deran shrugged, running his hand through his newly cropped hair. "He hasn't murdered us, yet, I guess you could say he's been in a good place."

Olivia nodded in understanding, the last time she'd talked to Pope was right before he had been carted off to prison. She'd always liked Pope, partly because he was an interesting person and because she had a healthy amount of fear. He was wild and unpredictable, she'd never witnessed it but she'd heard the stories.

“He has to be, now that he has Lena.”

“I heard about that. I'm sorry about Baz.” Olivia's words were a general statement to the room.

Deran muttered a thank you, J ignored her, and Craig took the conversation in another direction. Not wanting to dwell on the depressing aspects of Baz's death.

“Are you going to be around for a while?” Craig's voice was almost cautious. Olivia nodded, commenting how Deran was her ride and she was around until he left. “I uh, I have to shower and make a few calls. We can talk after?”

“Sure.” Olivia knew that the shower was an excuse for Craig to distance himself until he got some control over the situation of her presence. His control coming in the form of several lines going up his nose. His calls to dealers looking for more, perhaps one to his latest fuck buddy to tell her that something had come up and he'd be late.

J ignored the woman that had shook his uncle to the bone, his attention switching between his laptop and phone. Deran tried his best to make light conversation, telling Olivia about his bar and catching her up on this and that from his daily life. They were comfortably chatting about the current surf situation and which day would be the best to hit the waves, when the infamous Pope appeared. His eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Olivia could never get over how well put together he always looked, despite his blank stares and slow, almost predator like movements.

"Olivia." He spoke calmly, a hint of a smile breaking his face.

"Andrew."

"Passing through?"

"Something like that." Olivia nodded, sliding off of the counter top. "Good to see you. Craig told me you've cleaned up. Looking after Lena now."

"Craig says a lot." Pope answered dully.

"He does have a rather big mouth." Olivia chuckled, pulling another beer from the fridge and handing it to Pope.

"Gets him into trouble, sometimes. You have a place to stay?"

"Yep, I'm staying with my mother. Don't worry, you don't need to take care of me." Olivia winked. "Not anymore."

"Alright." Pope nodded, his head bobbing without really moving. "Stay as long as you want, but don't expect me to help cover Craig's murder."

Glancing between his uncle and the strange woman who had showed up a few hours ago, behind Deran; J found the perfect time to speak up. "You and Craig have some debts to settle or something?"

"Huh?" Olivia turned to face J, a smile creeping across her face. "Nah. It's not like that. The first time I ever shot a gun, Deran was teaching me. My aim was a little off and as I pulled the trigger, Craig happened to walk by. Bullet nearly took him out at the knees."

"Yeah that time was an accident. I'm still questioning the night you threw the knife at him." Deran felt the regret boil the second he'd brought that up.

"He deserved that. I told him I was pregnant and he left to hook up with that whore he'd met at the bar.” Olivia's eyes went dark and her nostrils flared. Deran fell silent, his gaze falling to the floor. He remembered that night, vaguely. “Excuse me.” She grabbed another beer from the counter and bee lined for the back patio.

From the kitchen J and Deran watched Olivia pace the smooth stones, one hand running through her hair and the other clutching the brown beer bottle. Deran would cut her off from any more alcohol, as soon as he could, he didn't want to return her a drunk and sobbing mess.

Olivia's head jerked up when one of the glass doors slid open, clean jeans on and a towel around his neck Craig strode out onto the patio. Nine, almost ten years, and they had never had a serious conversation. Craig knew he had a son, Olivia had told him, then she took off for the east coast and if he was lucky she'd send him a text every now and then.

“I don't want to be angry.” Craig's voice floated through the open window into the kitchen. “But we need to talk about a lot of things.”

Reaching over to the window, Pope grabbed the latch and pulled it firmly shut. He'd allow J and Deran to stand around and gawk out the window, however hearing wasn't an option as this wasn't business that needed full family involvement.

“Am I going to have a problem, with her hanging around?” J's gaze went straight out the window to the pool where the mysterious woman sat across from Craig.

“With Olivia? No.” Pope's dry voice did little to ease the newest Cody in charge.

“She's trouble, but not in the same way as most of Craig's hook ups.” Deran added from behind the door of the fridge. “Smurf has you believing that you're calling the shots, but you're best to stay out of business with Olivia. Oh and J, don't tell Smurf she's here. It's not something she needs to know about.”

“For everyone's safety, there are some things that Smurf doesn't need to know.” Pope added to Deran's warning.

Olivia would be gone before the end of the week, no doubt, another pack up and leave without so much as a goodbye. She'd send Deran, possibly Craig, a text from somewhere around the mid-west. When she was far enough away from the Cody's to relax again. Until then the worry about Smurf and the strife she'd bring wasn't what Olivia needed on her mind.

@noobchic, @ivarlothbroks, @sparklemichele, @klinger-verseau , @hows-my-hair , @grungyblonde - if anybody else wants a tag, feel free to ask :)

#but that makes you family #craig cody #animal kingdom #animal kingdom tnt #animal kingdom fanfic #animal kingdom tnt fanfic #craig cody fanfic #character fics #ben robson #ofc #craig cody x ofc #bless whoever found that photo

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lizzybeth1986 · 7 years ago

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Domestic Bliss Ask - Hana x Persephone

@kennaxval asked me to do a Domestic Bliss headcanon for Hana and my OC Persephone, so I thought I’d introduce her here before I plunged in. Persephone is Penelope’s much-older and very bossy sister, who currently lives in Paris and meets Hana when she returns to Cordonia for work purposes.

I have an NSFW ask to be done at a later point, requested by an anonymous poster, which will take a little more time. I’m still trying to figure out for certain what their sexual relationship looks like.

Who first brings up moving in together?

Hana, when she proposes (yep, she does the proposing, and no one quite believes either of them when they tell this story to people) just before Persy is scheduled to go back to Paris. Persy doesn’t give her a straight answer at first and leaves, and Hana believes she doesn’t want a steady relationship, but she returns eventually - for good - and accepts.

Their first few months as a couple are pretty much split between Valtoria and Portavira (Persy and Penelope’s parents’ estate). But once Hana’s best friend Esther marries King Liam and moves to the palace, Persy moves base to Valtoria, eventually working on her immensely successful fashion-and-lifestyle blog from there.

What is their morning routine?

Hana wakes up earlier. Persy’s definitely the night owl of the two. Even on days when she doesn’t have something to do, it usually takes her a while to go to sleep. Hana on the other hand sleeps as soon as she gets into bed, and loves to do something creative before Persy gets up - some days it’s embroidery, some days it’s playing the piano. Hana usually gets breakfast ready, but Persy insists on taking over during the weekends.

What is their nighttime routine?

Nighttime is Hana’s reading time, and on the nights Persy is free, it’s one of the few routines she picks up from Hana. Hana is very old-school - she can’t imagine reading without turning over pages, without the smell of old paper, the way it feels beneath her fingertips. Persy uses her Kindle (blasphemy!).

Occasionally they’ll stop to read aloud passages that stand out to them, passages that remind them of each other or sound inspiring. Persy tends to read out passages from her favourite book Women Who Run With the Wolves, a book she’d love to see Hana read.

Hana misses home, sometimes, so she thumbs through an old collection of classical Chinese poetry (her favourite being the poems of the Song Dynasty) that she had secretly bought as a young adult, and reads out verses. Her favourite is “The Night of the Lantern Festival”: she says it reminds her of Persy.

Who takes long showers/baths?

Definitely Hana. She’s a complete water girl, loves the feel of water on her skin, and will never pass up the opportunity to enjoy a shower for as long as she humanely can.

Persy likes being quick and efficient in all things, so it’s just “get in, get clean, get out”.

Who cooks, and who sets the smoke alarm off?

The more elaborate, family-style cooking? No one can do it like Hana can. Cooking is a stress buster for her. It’s what calms her down when she’s upset or worried. When Persy is around she will happily take over the cooking completely. Because if it were really up to Persy, they’d have minor variations of the five dishes she knows, every week. (“Good God Hana stop behaving like my mother. You’d think there was an entire army living in this house, not two people”)

Had Persy not fled from Cordonia during Leo’s social season…or been pushed into making a life for herself, she would have probably ended up like her “I can’t even boil water!” sister. Persy’s first few months in Paris were hard because she knew absolutely nothing - not how to cook, not how to buy supplies, not how to store food. She had to start over from scratch, and learn at least a few simple recipes - and those recipes have carried her over the past 5-6 years, and she isn’t exactly ready to change routine. If she’s feeling particularly ambitious, Persy will try to cook her grandmother’s special curry chicken. It usually winds up tasting like anything but curry chicken.

Who does the shopping?

Back in Paris, Persy tended to buy supplies only for a few days, and used up whatever she had in the next one or two, with portions meant for just a dish or two (unless she had guests over). She’s not used to the idea of buying supplies in bulk, or having leftovers for dinner, so Hana - who is used to the Cordonian way of buying and using supplies - was puzzled by Persy’s struggle to cook with so much. Hana knows certain dishes tend to taste better later on in the day (or the next day), so she likes shopping and cooking in larger quantities than Persy is used to, with some leftovers for dinner.

Who fixes it when something breaks?

Neither. They usually hire someone.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Reading, obviously.

Outdoors, they both love horses and Hana - who knows every dressage style imaginable - gets to show off her dressage moves.

Discuss fashion trends: I mean, it’s part of Persy’s job, and Hana’s, trends are what they rely on to move forward in their careers. There are times when Persy will have a suggestion that could just make a particular design Hana’s working on come together, and Hana can sometimes act as Persy’s sounding board for ideas.

Sex - how can I forget sex? It took Hana a while to be truly ready, but she’s a warm and enthusiastic partner once they do explore that aspect of their relationship. Persy’s never really been this involved in a relationship before, and this willing to give herself completely to someone else, so in a lot of ways it’s a new experience for her too.

How do they celebrate birthdays and anniversaries (day they first met, first date, month anniversaries, etc.)?

Persy’s birthday - now that she’s returned to Cordonia - is celebrated with the family at the estate, and Hana’s tends to be celebrated more often either at Valtoria or the palace, depending on King Liam and Queen Esther’s schedule. Persy has spent the last 6 years basically just going to the nearest bar, flirting and treating herself to a few extra drinks on birthdays, so this whole idea of celebrating in public is something she’s still getting used to.

Hana is quite fond of TCaTF (the book, not the show), so when she found out that Persephone and Penelope could trace their ancestry back to what was once Ennan, the capital of Fyordia (certain records hint at a connection to King Tevan, but nothing conclusive), Hana’s taken an interest to exploring more of the Portavira duchy. Most anniversaries, Persy takes Hana to historical and natural sites in and around the area because she knows how much Hana loves that. Sometimes they go to the Fydorian Museum, highlighting their spirit and bravery in helping Queen Kenna of Stormholt in the great battle against Empress Azura. Persy’s seen all this enough times to be bored by it by now, but she’d take Hana there everyday just to see the look on her face.

What were their first impressions of each other?

The first time they met was extremely commonplace, very random, and honestly they left no lasting impression on each other. Persephone was a stranger who suggested another dessert at a bakery Hana was visiting, and Hana was a woman who spoke kindly to Persy’s kid sister. They met for no more than ten minutes, spoke barely two lines two each other, and went on with their lives.

By the time Persy eventually came back to Cordonia at least two years after this meeting, Hana had already begun to have an impression of Persy that was largely fed by a very anxious, very stressed Penelope’s reaction to the news that her older sister was coming - that Persephone was intimidating and rather scary, really.

Persy didn’t really relate much to Hana in the beginning - they were far too different - but she did admire from the get go Hana’s courage in making a life completely independent of her parents, and knows very intimately what a struggle it must have been to demand she be heard, and leave if her parents were unable to listen to her. 6 years ago, Persephone would have been one among the many potential brides vying for Prince Leo’s hand, had she not gotten an job offer in Paris, wrangled by an old boarding-school friend who lived there. She was able to make a cleaner break than Hana did, but she remembers how hard that first year was. Hana may have looked like a pushover, but Persy realised soon enough that in certain things she would definitely hold her ground.

When did they each know that they wanted to be with the other person?

For Persy it was a realisation that happened over time, up until a point where she started noticing just how protective she was around Hana, and how angry she’d get on her behalf when someone tried to take advantage of her kindness. It was disconcerting, and scary, and Persy tried to ignore how she felt for at least a few months before she realised those feelings weren’t going to disappear.

Hana was physically attracted to Persy early on, and struggled with how raw and exposed she felt around her. What she felt for Persy was very, very different from what she had once felt for Esther, but the intensity felt familiar. It took her quite a while to figure out that what she felt for Persy was the real deal.

Do they have any inside jokes?

Not any that I know of, at the moment! This is something I’m still working on.

Do they have any embarrassing stories they’ve sworn not to tell anyone else?

Also something I’ll need to think about. I haven’t figured out any yet.

Do they enjoy having time apart, or do they go a little crazy?

They don’t particularly enjoy time apart, but they’re not entirely going to go crazy missing each other either. Persy’s been pretty much brought up away from people she’s been close to, so she already has her ways of coping when someone she loves and lives with isn’t by her side. Hana has a slightly harder time getting used to being without Persy, but she has her ways of keeping herself occupied.

How do they cheer the other one up when they’re having a bad day?

Hana plays the piano for Persy. She’s composed a few pieces in the time they have spent together, and there is one composition that never fails to calm Persy down whenever Hana plays it. Hana also likes to cup Persy’s face in her hands and plant little kisses all over, and Percy secretly loves it every time she does that.

On one of Hana’s ‘bad days’, Persy likes to cuss in French (basically the first things Persy will ever master, in any language she's learning, are the curse words). It makes Hana laugh, and Persy proceeds to teach her every curse word she’s picked up in Paris, including “fuck you”. All Persy has to do is say zut, or merde (shit) in an accent that’s so clearly Cordonian, and Hana gets into a giggle fit. No idea why. She just does.

Let’s not even start with what happens when Persy translates f-bombs into French. Va te faire foutre sounds so elaborate for a phrase that’s just supposed to mean “fuck you”.

#the royal romance #hana x oc #trr hana #hana lee #hana x persephone #persephone antreou #penelope antreou #there's a bit of cussing so i must warn you if that's not something you're comfortable with

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divagonzo · 7 years ago

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10 years

10 years ago today, it was my 33rd birthday. For reasons stated below, it's one I will never forget.

10 years and 7 days ago, on another Sunday, I was called to my Dad's house. He'd fallen and they needed my help. I rushed over and tried my best to help but due to his size and condition, we needed the brute strength of the fire department guys (whom to this day I still go out of my way to thank profusely) to get him back up off the floor.

I left and went home and was quite anxious that day. I was full of nervous energy, to the point of re-arranging the living room. Maybe I knew something was going to happen. I won’t spend time pondering this incident.

About 5pm, I got a frantic call to come over. I think I broke every single speed limit to get there, and possibly running the occasional red light, too. O_O I don’t recommend it - ever.

I walked into my nightmare. I had seconds to prepare, seeing the faces of the guys from the fire department.

That nightmare was that Dad died. He fell asleep in his chair and didn't wake.

My (former) step-mother was a wreck. There was no one else to help. I had to make snap decisions on what to do and how to go from there. I had to turn off the emotions, put them aside, and be an adult. That give-a-damn stayed broken for about 3 months.

My Sis, God love her, was willing to drive 9 hours to be by my side. I told her I'd need her desperately the next weekend.

I was a complete mess and had to strap on my dragon sized britches and make decisions, some of which were financially crippling for a time.

He had no will, no power of attorney, etc etc etc. 3 weeks before, he'd filed for bankruptcy, because of medical bills. (FYI - having a respiratory arrest when you aren't working will do it. He didn't tell me everything and I only found out these things afterwards. Call that another shock.)

That week, my SM was of little help. Everything fell on my head. So many decisions had to be made, so much to accomplish those days. I couldn’t fall apart. Too many needed me to be strong, accomplish too much, and not take the time to grieve immediately.

I called work and spoke to someone, explained I wouldn't be in for a while, and didn't bother with them again. There were banks to deal with, funeral homes, paying for everything, including the bankruptcy lawyer (caveat - those guys only take cash - not a check. No installment plans there, folks.)

Suffice to say, there wasn't much I really remember now of that week. I was drinking, sometimes heavily. This went on for months. Not at work. Not before 5pm. In the midst of intense grief, I kept some discipline. Go figure. I quit drinking heavily a week before Christmas. My Sis was there those two nights. I don’t remember them in my drunken haze. She can’t remember them either, thankfully.

What I do remember is my husband being my rock that week, including finding a way to pay for the funeral. (that wasn't cheap at all, b/c of SM insisting on some things.) I remember that my husband willingly gave his body to fuck me daily, so I could function with some normalcy. (We didn’t know ‘til years later he was Autistic.) That was the only way I could sleep - and he couldn’t.

I remember crying on my BFF’s shoulder for an hour the next morning.

I remember my Sis coming into town, and doing things that I couldn’t do at the time - grocery shopping, laundry, cooking, and cleaning the house. She saw a need and did it - unasked.

The visitation was on a Sunday night. Dad’s best friend drove 9 hours to be there. Cousins came up. Step-siblings were there. So many lives he touched over the years.

So many were there, including some I didn't expect, like my father's former step-mother. Growing up, he was bounced around between families, because his mother was a Jehovah's Witness and the parents didn't want her to have custody of him, taking him off on her missionary trip with her new husband to South America.

So the second wife of my grandfather abused him - horribly. Granddad was off in Korea, in the Navy. My father rarely spoke of those days but when he would, there was a rage that I didn't fathom or comprehend 'til I was older. Those abuses shaped him in ways I didn't understand 'til these intervening 10 years.

Dad’s former step-mother showed up to the visitation. This elderly woman, probably in her mid 70s, begged my forgiveness because she couldn't do it to my Dad. I could have been an asshole but I wasn't. I took her at her word and thanked her for it, and buried the hatchet on his behalf.

I realized only later that it was cowardice on her part, begging my forgiveness, when I wasn’t the one who was hurt, and wronged.

My grandmother wasn’t there. Alzheimer’s already took hold and she wouldn’t haven’t understood well enough. I made the hard decision that she wasn’t to be told.

It would have upset her greatly, with her not realizing why. I wouldn’t do that to her not in that condition.

My sis was there, along with my BFF. They are amazing, were then and still am.

Thanks to another Aunt... we had bar-b-que from a good place. I dunno how i remember that. There was also a huge birthday cake. There were a slew of birthdays to celebrate the night of the visitation. This included giving my nephew (with his parents permission) his first beer. I also let him cut the cake, reserving the only piece for my Dad, who had his birthday 1 month later. The nephew was turning 18. His younger sister, 11. My favorite Aunt (the following week) - 75.

Dad would have been 59.

The next day, I buried my father - on my 33rd birthday.

He always did make a spectacle of it, one way or another. And the last thing I could do for him, even if it was full of surreal irony - is that he always asked for a posh address.

I gave it to him, as his resting place. It’s nice out there. It was part of a dairy farm. The wildlife out there can roam. The feel safe that Dad doesn’t have a gun in hand, hunting impotently.

It went as best as I could manage things, including getting bent over a financial issue that the institution wouldn't bend on. I had to go back to work - eventually - and it sucked so hard for a week.

Out of his pride, he let others take financial advantage of him. When he did ask for my help, Hubs and I paid for most of their bills for about 8 months - gladly. That's how they kept the house and the lights on, and food on the table.

I tried to make amends with the financial institution, but to no avail. They wouldn't deal with me, only him. They were assholes. I relished fucking them over, like they did to my dad when he was financially bereft.

10 years...

And I've learned that I needed a second baptism in fire. I learned compassion, a little more patience, and that wrath is a poison that only affects you, not the one you are furious at.

He never forgave his abuser. That was his right, including never dealing with her. I still don't blame him for it. I blame her for being a witch to him, when he was a child in need of support and protection. I blame my great-grandparents, who (in their opinion) were protecting him from my grandmother, even if they abdicated raising him, leaving him for his absent father.

The step-family is gone, severed. Things happened in the intervening years. I don't miss them. I do miss my dad, only to have someone to bicker with. I miss his generosity - which he was almost too much with. His giving nature was taken advantage of repeatedly, but he still would open his door and his dining room table for anyone in need. He needed it, the validation of giving.

I still have my Mom - a pain in the ass sometimes but I actually like her. But the ones I cherish are my found family. They are the ones who have been there through the painfully thin, and the best of the thick. The Hubs. The BFF. The Sis.

Y'all ask how I can be so wise, sometimes? Because I lived through my nightmare and while tempered in fire, I survived it and am better for it.

My boggart changed after that moment. I will have other testing moments, which I don’t want to think about. Those boggarts have yet to come.

But ‘til then...

#Dragon's thoughts #Highly personal #replies only please #Queue up for the Dragon #Will eventually delete

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chelseawolfemusic · 7 years ago

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Chelsea Wolfe: In Search of Brutal Honesty // REVOLVER

photograph by TRAVIS SHINN

The intensely private musician shines a light on her personal life and family history to create her most real and raw work yet

Article by STEVE APPLEFORD via REVOLVER

This isn't how Chelsea Wolfe remembers things at all. We're in a corner bar in downtown Los Angeles, a noirish watering hole with a throbbing trip-hop soundtrack that she used to frequent during seven years of living and making music in the naked city. She's returned for an afternoon visit dressed in elegant layers of vampire black; a three-legged raven tattoo is apparent on her left forearm as she hovers over a purplish mixed drink. But everything is askew as a big-screen TV blasts a sporting event and sunlight shines brightly through the long windows around her.

"I'm a little thrown. This bar used to be my favorite," she says, having her first drink here since she moved back to the woods of Northern California a year ago. The shadows are Wolfe's preferred comfort zone, where she makes music in smoky shades of black and gray, with intense flashes of melody and distortion that reflect what the singer-guitarist calls "the brutish side of myself."

Her interior life has also been largely kept in the shadows. She's revealed little of her own story in song lyrics and media interviews, begging off questions that cut too close to the personal.

"I never talk about this stuff," Wolfe says. "My extended family — there is just a lot of darkness there. I don't know how to get into it without being emo."

On her fifth album, Hiss Spun, she finally turns the light on herself, reaching backward to old feelings and memories of self-destruction and the pain of watching a lover fade in a cloud of addiction. The result is her most complete and dynamic offering to date, the definitive achievement thus far of an artist who has won a diverse and devoted fan base by being hard to define, daringly spanning the worlds of goth rock, neo-folk, electronic music and metal. On Hiss Spun, Wolfe whispers and wails to sounds that are characteristically wide-ranging, shifting from noisy to ethe- real, gloomy to cinematic, but the lyrics cut deeper than ever before. On the creeping "The Culling," she hints at some grim family history: "I'll never tell the secrets of my family/Bled out/A cult of anonymity ..." On "Scrape," she rages of "a young nymph defiled."

It comes up more than once, reflecting an old secret that she explains has shattered the peace among her extended family, a subject she isn't ready to fully talk about. "It's too big of a bomb to drop," she says of the secret revealed to her at 19 by her maternal grandmother. "My family is all very estranged because of something that someone did to everyone in my family."

She looks up from her drink and adds casually, "My family is pretty fucked up. The way that I came out is not like a big surprise."

At age seven, Chelsea Wolfe wrote her first poem, already overloaded with atmosphere and observation: a rainy day, dogs barking, a siren rushing past and thoughts about where that siren might be heading. "I would space out sometimes," she recalls. "My family was like, ‘What's wrong with you?' I was thinking about the whole world around me, and all these sounds and sadness and happiness that were happening at the same time."

She grew up in Sacramento, California, splitting time between her mother, her grandmother, and her father and stepmother. One house overlooked a graveyard, with daily funerals of diverse denominations. Her father is a country musician who handed down one of his guitars to Wolfe and taught her how to record in his home studio. (They once sang together at a tribute to Dolly Parton.) When she turned 18, her father drove young Chelsea to get her first tattoo: a Celtic cross on her back.

"I grew up pretty fast. I had older sisters. By the time I was 11, I was drinking 40s and getting fucked up and getting in trouble and smoking weed," she remembers. By high school, she was bored enough with drink and drugs to stop, then started experimenting with it again in her twenties.

Her early musical forays included a grungy trio called the Red Host, named after a 1911 erotic expressionist painting by Egon Schiele. Also in the group was her close friend Jess Gowrie, who plays drums in her current backing band. The songs were raw and brooding, hinting at the Wolfe music to come, but after a couple of years of playing around town, she chose a solo path. There was a falling out with Gowrie, and they were mostly out of touch for several years.

"I knew that I had to follow my own vision. I was young and still very curious about what I could do musically on my own and with other people," Wolfe says now. "I knew that it was going to be a very painful thing. So a lot of getting over that was her forgiving me for leaving this project, and me forgiving myself for hurting a good friend."

Her reunion with Gowrie began when Wolfe was again spending time in Sacramento after years away. Gowrie took her out regularly for karaoke, and Wolfe made Black Sabbath's teary "Changes" and other Ozzy standards her specialty. The drummer turned her on to some Nineties music (Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, etc.) Wolfe missed the first time around. They also began experimenting with their own music again, a collaboration that evolved into a new album under the Wolfe name: Hiss Spun.

"Some of my favorite moments on the record are when she is really going wild," Wolfe says of Gowrie, whose influence on the singer goes back a decade. "She really helped me become the frontperson that I am because I was always really shy," Wolfe says. "She was always really encouraging and pushing me to play lead guitar parts and sing and do as much as I could. When we reunited, it was almost like a triumph: We're friends again, we're making music together again. I really wanted her to shine on this record."

Another key player on several Hiss Spun tracks is guitarist Troy Van Leeuwen of Queens of the Stone Age. Wolfe met the sharp-dressed guitarist while she was opening a short run of shows with Queens in 2014. Van Leeuwen introduced himself by mixing drinks for Wolfe and her band backstage. Also on that tour, Wolfe got an essential piece of advice and encouragement from Queens leader Josh Homme.

During her shows, Wolfe often spits onstage, but was careful on that tour not to hit any Queens gear. Homme told her not to worry. "I didn't want to fuck up their stage," she says now. "Josh was like, ‘No, do your show fully. Be you and go for it.' Having the backing of a band you look up to so much was really great for my confidence as a live performer. I feel like I've grown a lot since that tour."

During the Hiss Spun sessions late last year, Van Leeuwen traveled out to Salem, Massachusetts, for a few days to join Wolfe at recording engineer (and Converge guitarist) Kurt Ballou's GodCity Studios. "Instantly, it was great," she recalls. "I was begging Kurt: ‘Please, let's start recording and get all this shit and figure out the right direction to go.' Troy would hit these notes that were gut-wrenching."

It's a descriptor that applies to Wolfe's music in general. At their core, her songs are still inspired by the "real and raw and fucked-up" examples of Hank Williams and Townes Van Zandt, American songwriters who shared a gift for authenticity and despair. "It's the honesty of it," she explains. "I always wanted to know there are two sides to every story. I want some brutal honesty."

On Hiss Spun, Wolfe's brand of brutal honesty begins with a wild screech of feedback, launching the emotional swirl of "Spun," as electric guitars slice across a foundation of distortion and Wolfe sings, soft and soaring: "You leave me reckless, you leave me sick/I destroy myself and want it again."

The sound is meticulously layered, shifting from delicate to grinding on "Spun," which Ballou called "a big sloppy rock song." The album's first single, "16 Psyche," follows a similar trajectory, unfolding from a brooding riff and menacingly tumbling beats. Then comes "Vex," colliding death-metal angst with Gothic gloom, erupting with a guttural roar from guest vocalist Aaron Turner of Isis, Old Man Gloom and Sumac. "I get chills every time he comes in," says Wolfe.

An emotional peak on the new album is "Twin Fawn," equal parts romance and tragedy, beauty and loss. "It hurts to stay, but it hurts to stop," Wolfe sings to an achingly gentle guitar that soon explodes with thundering wrath, as she cries: "You cut me open/You lived inside."

"Part of that is about being in love with someone who's addicted to drugs," she explains. "I've experienced that before — trying to help that person, and at the same time the frustration when someone doesn't want to be helped. There are a lot of love songs out there. I hope that I can write a good love song someday, but for now I tend to write songs about the more practical sides of love — when you're actually putting work in, spending time with someone, trying to help them through something, or they're trying to help you through something, the give and take.

"There's definitely some anger on this album," she continues. "There's anger about the election and what's to come from that. There's anger that's directly expressed from the viewpoint of a woman, and thinking about what my foremothers had to go through, and what I had to go through sometimes."

On the cover of Hiss Spun, Wolfe depicts herself as a cornered animal, photographed on her knees and backed against a white wall in a black dress made of hair, head bent downward, a single eye peering dangerously forward. "I knew that I wanted to represent some kind of messiness and just being fucked up," she says of the feral image. "I do feel like there is a lot of pressure on women artists to be like, ‘I have my shit together' — and it's not always like that. I'm a messy person. I'm self-destructive a lot of time. I wanted to represent that."

youtube

A week after her visit to the bar in Los Angeles, Wolfe is on the phone, between rehearsals back home with her band. A fall tour of the U.S. is still many weeks away. Her family secret comes up, and she considers the possibility that revealing too little could lead to wild imaginings.

She hesitates to say more. "I really don't want to hurt anyone in my family, because a lot of them were more affected by it than I was," she says. After a moment, she explains, "Basically, my great-grandfather was a pedophile and fucked up every woman in my family. I don't always feel that it's my story to tell, because it was an older generation of women who had the worst of it."

It's a story that mostly unfolded years before her birth, but Wolfe remembers him. "I was around him when I was a little kid. So there is some blurriness there that I won't get into."

Bringing the story into the light, and dealing with her family history, has been part of a larger process for Wolfe. It's not just a personal journey, but also one meant to connect with listeners dealing with their own lives and anxiety. She makes a point of talking to fans after her shows.

"I've never gone to therapy. This is my version of that," she says of making art that explores life's hidden places. "At the same time, I'm trying to write from the human experience or write about being this mess of a person who's trying to come to terms with things, and finding strength through that. Even though there are some really dark moments on this record, all of my music is about overcoming that and pushing forward and surviving another day."

#Chelsea Wolfe #Hiss Spun #REVOLVER #Sargent House

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the-wicked-beasts-that-roam-blog · 7 years ago

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Chapter 1

Bitter whiskey and old piss ripped the breath from Aidyn’s lungs. Loud music vibrated the walls and wooden floor of the bar called Pig’s as he pushed past bigger men than him—some measuring well past his 6’3. Glancing into the dark crooks and crannies of the small biker bar, he rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb.

Where the hell was he?

Usually, he could spot his brother from a mile away. You couldn’t miss the huge son of a bitch.

He paused, leaning against a wooden pillar, turquoise eyes shooting toward the men around the pool table. That was where he had expected his brother to be—drinking a pint and putting money on the table against the old bikers decked in leather. But … he wasn’t there.

After another long second, he pushed off the pillar and headed towards the back door, the night breeze hitting him as the screen door slammed shut. Another intake of breath had his chest rising with a giant sigh.

Yet again, no sign of him. His boot tapped the rotted planks of the porch as his eyes scanned the wheat field.

Bad things happened when his brother disappeared. Death. Havoc. Things of the like, usually ending with a body to burn and evidence to bury.

A strange popping noise from behind the dumpster had him stepping off the makeshift porch. It was a squishy, wet sound. And the closer he got, the louder it became. At first, he thought it was a couple getting freaky. He almost turned around—even twisting on his heel—but as he did, a tangy, coppery, distinct smell hit his nose. He pulled a one-eighty and shuffled around the corner. On the clay ground, his brother’s huge fists continued to bash in a blond body builder’s face.

The man was dead. Aidyn was sure of it. If he wasn’t, then he wouldn’t live much longer with his brains smeared across the gravel. Blood dripped from his brother’s face, soaked his hands as his fists continued to strike the crushed skull.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, reaching for his enraged brother, and gripping him by the arms. “Enough, Dom. Enough.”

Reluctant as hell, Dom let off and pushed up from the ground, stumbling a bit. Still drunken with rage, drops of blood stained Dom’s carved face, and his ebony eyes glowed with hellfire.

“Jesus Christ, his brains are everywhere.” Aidyn stared down at the sludge smeared in the dirt and gravel.

“Good.” His brother spit on the body, and then he peeled the t-shirt off his back and wiped his face.

“The hell did he do—cheat you out of money?”

Dom shook his head. “Don’t worry about what he did.”

“We gotta get out of here before his buddies come looking for him.” Aidyn grabbed the man’s limp arms and winced as more pink sludge oozed from his skull. “Get his legs.”

“Leave him. I want these humans to find him.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

In response, Dom put a cigarette in his mouth and bent down, picking up a full bottle of Jim Beam that leaned against the dumpster. He poured the contents over the man, and lit a pack of matches, lighting his cigarette, and then tossed the fire onto the body.

And then Dom walked away as if it never happened.

Aidyn glanced once more at the burning body before following his brother down the dirt path and around the building. About halfway, Dom paused and Aidyn nearly collided with his back. His brother tilted his head, peering toward an opening between two shacks, and with the little bit of streetlight that shined through the crevice, a small shadow moved. Aidyn’s breath hitched, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. A blonde girl, who didn’t look any older than seven, kneeled in the dirt, staring up at his brother, with her cheeks covered in dirt and tears, her nose and mouth a bloody mess.

His brother stared back at her, and for the first time in a while, a speck of sadness crept into their abyss. And just as fast as the emotion slipped in, Dom was on the move again, stalking toward the black ’70 dodge challenger that set in the corner of the parking lot.

His brother’s blood-stained hands yanked open the driver door, and he chucked the shirt into the floorboard as he dropped into the seat. A woman’s cry rang out and with one last look over his shoulder, Aidyn hopped in the passenger side. Their other brother sat in the back, his half-empty whiskey bottle sitting between his legs.

“You look like you had fun,” Zeke muttered, green eyes red and swollen.

Dom didn’t look back as he shoved the key in the ignition, his patience seeming to have built up over the trip.

“Shut up, Zeke.” Aidyn watched Dom from the side, a frown on his lips.

“Go ahead. Take up for him like always.”

“She told me about you.” The middle-aged man nodded as he cleaned the knife, the ten-inch shine of the steel reflecting the broken sunlight that gleamed through the trees. “She told me.”

The chirping birds settled in the trees above her head, their whistling a comforting sound. Jade glanced up, her top lip folded under her bottom lip as she watched the cardinal perched on the branch. Her grandmother had told her cardinals meant someone was visiting from heaven.

“I never believed before, but I do—I do now. I know. She showed me.” He smiled, tears glistening his brown eyes.

His fingers itched at the salt and pepper scruff on his cheeks. He sharpened the knife a few more times, the clash of steel gritting together like the teeth of a lion.

At the edge of the brush, Jade stood, afraid to step past the tree line in fear that it would swallow her up. Her honey colored eyes stared past the trees and into the darkness.

“I wouldn’t stand that close if I were you. These woods are alive in more ways than one,” a raspy older woman’s voice spoke from behind her.

With a deep breath, Jade glanced over her shoulder. Passing between the magnolia trees, Len hobbled her way toward her, using a wooden cane for support. Her gray, brittle hair hung loosely in a low ponytail, and her flowery gown fluttered in the breeze.

“Don’t tell me you have werewolves living in your backyard?” Jade smirked at her.

The old woman stopped and looked at the trees. “They’d be the least of my worries.”

“You forget I ran through those before.”

“Just because you got out once, doesn’t mean you’ll get out again.”

“Twice.”

Len looked over to her. “Two is a lucky number.”

“My lucky number is three.”

The old woman broke a smile. “Smartass.” She turned to look at the small cottage nestled meters away. “Still traveling with the circus?”

“Yeah, and in about,” Jade pulled her phone out her pocket and clicked on the screen, “forty minutes you’ll see the main attraction: a twenty-four year old pissing her daisy dukes.”

“Hm. Already drunk at four in the afternoon?”

“Oh no, she’s been drunk since 10 a.m.”

Len shook her head and sighed. “She doesn’t waste time.”

“Well, she’s mad. She had some dude in Ohio she was crazy over.”

“Why didn’t she stay?”

“His wife wasn’t too keen on her living with them.”

The old woman’s eyes widened. “That’s a good reason.”

Jade stuffed her hands in her pockets and nodded toward the ’06 red charger sitting in the driveway. “She’s in the grief stage until another man sweeps her off her feet.”

“She’ll have a nice list of men to choose from in a few days.”

“Just what we need—her getting a new boy toy.”

“At least she’ll find a new vice.” As if on cue, the right back door to the charger swung open and a pale foot slid out followed behind a long slender leg.

After a severe case of struggling and slinking in a less than graceful manner out of the car, Erica finally tumbled out of the back seat and onto the ground in nothing but a pair of daisy dukes and a pink bikini top. The entire five-hour ride from Cincinnati she’d sipped on a bottle of cheap peach schnapps stolen from her ex’s house, and in a less than a second she managed to puke all of it up on the back tire of Jason’s car.

“So, these guys … are they bodyguards or something?” Jade asked, cutting her eyes away from her sister and turning her attention back to Len. “Jason hasn’t said much about where we’re going or who we’re staying with.”

“Figures.” Len began walking toward a wooden bench, motioning with a finger for her to follow. “They’re cousins of his—technically. He doesn’t like asking them for help, but he’s out of options if you ask me.”

Maintaining the slow pace of the woman, Jade’s gaze shot to where Len pointed past the car and toward the range of large dark green mountains looming in the east.

“The house is secluded, and that’s what you need right now. Not to mention, Jason—as much as he loves you—can’t protect you on his own. He doesn’t have the strength.” She plopped down on the bench. “Just be careful around the oldest brother. He’s got attitude problems a mile long.“

“I’m surprised I haven’t met them before.” Jason usually introduced her to everyone in his family.

A ghost of a smile settled on Len’s face. “You probably crossed paths once or twice.”

The door of the house slammed, and Jason stepped off the porch, blonde hair wet and black circles beneath his annoyed amber eyes. If he were taller than 5’8, he’d look menacing.

“No more hiding bottles in your damn bag.”

“It was an accident. Do you think I would’ve wasted perfectly good liquor on you?” Erica asked, resting her head against the car door as she sat on the grass with her legs stretched out and her hands palming her flushed cheeks. Sweat matted red locks of hair to her pale face, and she looked the definition of a hot mess.

Jason ducked his head in the driver window. “My seat’s still soaking wet.”

“Towels are hanging up on the clothesline and cleaner under the sink,” Len called to him.

With a frown, Jade sat on the bench and eyed the poor guy. His patience had to be running thin—if he had any left at all.

“He looks worn out.”

Jade nodded. “The driving around is wearing him down.”

“The worry is eating him up too.” Len looked over to her, pale blue eyes staring straight through her. “And what about you—how are you holding up?”

“I’m here.” And she guessed that counted for something.

“Why’s the car running so rough? Sounds like it’s about to die.” Aidyn chucked his cigarette-butt out the window.

“I think someone might be fucking with it.” And that someone had a talent for witchcraft fuckery.

Dom watched the smoke rise from the exhaust, silently counting all the ways to kill a witch.

The cheap florescent lights of the gas station flickered as Aidyn jumped out the car and walked inside, his entire body twitching from withdrawals. Dom shook his head, feeling a headache coming on at the base of his temple. T would be getting his ass fed to him tomorrow. He was supposed to be weaning his brother off, not feeding him more. Aidyn had snorted less cocaine before they left Tennessee.

He glanced up at the clouds hanging low and stuck his hand out the window. A few cool drops of rain hit his palm, and then the few drops turned into a downpour. He rolled up the window and leaned his head back against his seat, fighting to keep his eyes open. For just a moment, he gave in and let them close.

He saw Zeke in the woods like he had three years before, covered in blood as he sat naked on the ground, cradling the girl who lay deathly still in his arms. Except this time, his fingers twisted in long dark curls instead of blonde tresses.

Dom blinked, realizing it wasn’t Zeke sitting there holding that girl … but himself.

The car door opened, and his head snapped up.

“I got two packs this time, so if the alcoholic decides he wants to drink us under the table again, he won’t leave us empty-handed.” Aidyn threw the cases on the floor and paused outside the door. “I gotta piss before we get back on the road though.”

Slamming the door, he jogged across the street to the woods and disappeared into the brush.

“Had the dream again, didn’t you?” Zeke’s rough voice broke the silence. “Guilty conscious starting to eat away at you, huh?”

Dom rubbed his eyes, trying hard to erase a pair of honey eyes from his memory. But three years later, here he was, still reeling from the effects of that one shit week.

“I hope that memory stays with you forever.” He accepted his brother’s hate like a burden to bear.

With a glance in the rearview mirror, he caught his brother’s disheveled appearance—glassy red eyes, two weeks’ worth of beard growth, and greasy hair. The depressed bastard was one step from being a hobo. God forbid a woman ever make him sink that low.

The door opened yet again and Aidyn jumped inside, soaking wet and smelling like a dog.

“Never felt so good to piss.” He laughed as he got comfortable. “You know when you wait to pee and your gut starts to hurt from holding it for so long? Yeah, totally just had that experience.” Aidyn then looked over, and his face changed as he realized Dom wasn’t laughing. “What’s a matter with you?”

Dom frowned, wishing he had the power to fade into thin air. He lived with these people. These idiots. They invaded his space like Martians, and stayed and thrived and threw up everywhere as if it were a common territorial marking.

He turned the key in the ignition and the car gave a pitiful knocking sound. He closed his eyes, swearing that if anyone ever touched his car again, he’d remove their bowels through their throat. He turned the key once again and the car came to life. He revved it, drowning out his brothers’ voices with the roar of the engine and backed out. Staring at the long road ahead, he couldn’t wait to be home and imagined himself barricaded in his room with nothing but liquor, a pack of Oreos, and a carton of cigarettes for company.

“So, you like it?” Jason asked.

Jade blinked, pulling her headphones out of her ears. “Huh?”

“The house?”

She looked over at it, barely taking it in before looking back to him. His amber eyes pleaded with her to say yes, but damn if she didn’t have the biggest urge to say no, just to see if it would matter.

In the last three years, she had lived in twenty different places. Twenty different towns. With twenty different people. She didn’t care if she liked it or not—she’d be leaving it soon anyway.

But for Jason’s sake, she nodded.

He smiled, raking his fingers through his dirty blond hair and nodding as if he’d done right by some degree. She glanced at the house and guessed he’d done better than the others. A finger-eating unicorn wasn’t trotting across the lawn, nor was a komodo dragon being used as a guard dog.

There was a catch though. There was always a catch.

A four-car garage connected to the side of the gothic-styled house made of gray stone. Gargoyles guarded the giant front porch and the lonely balcony on the top floor. Maybe Dracula was their landlord? The high king of bloodsuckers probably waited inside for a fresh, juicy throat to chomp on.

It could be no worse than Lola’s place. The bearded lady used to make her walk her talking pet gorilla to the beach daily. His name was Ralph. He smoked cigars, painted watercolors, slept in a hammock, and wrote sensuous poetry about butterflies.

A true artist at heart indeed, aside from the fact that he liked taking craps on sandcastles.

“Any dead bodies in there I should know about?” She picked her backpack off the floorboard.

Jason grinned. “Not this time.”

“You sure?”

At his aunt’s house, they had walked in and interrupted a séance one evening. The poor woman had been hell-bent on bringing her dead boyfriend back to life. Problem was: he’d been dead for a week and his body was starting to rot.

“That was one time. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

She stepped out the car, slinging her bag over her shoulder. When her sister didn’t move, she poked her head inside the vehicle. Erica lay spread-eagle with a night mask covering her eyes. There was no way she’d be waking up that woman. It wasn’t worth the risk of having her face mauled by a hyena. Jade shut the door and received a dead look from Jason.

“You wake her up. It’s not my job to wrestle a bear.” She tapped the roof of the car. “Pop the trunk.”

She headed to the rear of the Charger and the trunk sprung open. A suitcase fell out, and another one threatened to topple over. Jade shook her head as she threw her sisters suitcases to the ground, not caring if she broke the cheap crap inside them, and rummaged through the trunk until she came across her black suitcase and two green duffel bags that lay crushed at the bottom of the pile. Jason came to her side, holding a hand out to help.

“I’m good. Cinderella’s gonna need you to carry hers, though.”

He grimaced. “One of these days I’m going to drop her off on the side of the highway.”

“I’ll help you push her out.” She maneuvered her bags in one hand and dragged the suitcase in the other.

She wasn’t as adventurous as her sister. In fact, she could live a whole lifetime without any adrenaline rushes. She’d had plenty in her twenty-three years, and she was done with them.

And she swore if she had one more ankle sprain from a failed attempt on her life, she’d beat the living hell out of that conniving old witch with her bare hands.

Jason held open the oak door of the house, and she wobbled into the main hall, surveying the cherry-wood walls and the white marble floors. A barroom was to the left, along with a wide staircase, and a living room was to the right. Not bad, not bad. Had character, she supposed. Her almond gaze traveled back to the stairs, and she took a deep breath and shuffled her way toward them.

“What room?” she asked.

“Just pick one,” Jason said with a shrug as he disappeared into the barroom.

He’d been drinking more lately. She wondered if she needed to start drinking too since she was the only one left sober amid all the chaos.

Jade climbed the stairs, praying for someone to shoot her as she conquered them one step at a time, determined to get to the third floor. She veered to the right and paused in her tracks. Black iron lamps hung on the mahogany walls of the corridor. Shrugging, she walked the hall, eyeing each of the four doors, until she zeroed in on the last two.

A pie slice of light streamed from the last door on the right, and she nudged it with her elbow. With a slow creak, it opened, exposing a room void of color and personality. She dropped her things carelessly on the floor of the hall and stepped inside.

Two French doors led out to the balcony. And honestly, she would have picked the room for the balcony alone.

She was ready to get her things and drop them on the bed. Until her eyes landed on the closet. A lone jacket and a pair of black boots set on the floor. And that’s when she also noticed the bed had been laid in—the gray duvet crinkled and nearly falling off the mattress.

“You would go in the one room you can’t have.”

She looked over her shoulder. Jason leaned on the frame of the door, his gaze scanning over the empty, cold room.

Disappointment set in as she sighed. “Sorry, I couldn’t tell anyone was living in here.”

He gave a nod. “The one across the hall’s open. Promise it’s a lot better than this one.”

Jason picked up her bags, and she followed as he went into the other room. Sunlight spewed in from a large wall-sized window adorned in red drapes. Her eyes slid to the dark walls of wood, and then to the fireplace across from the bed. The room spoke to the inner part of her that leveled with Wednesday Adams, and called to all those little dark spots in her heart.

She put her things on the trunk at the foot of the black four-poster bed and glanced around, noticing the cobwebs that hung low in the corners and the spiders dangling from the ceiling. Her eyes swept over the claw tub by the window and the broken black iron chandelier swaying in the middle of the room.

“It needs a little work, but I think it fits you,” Jason said, wiping a finger along a dusty white writer’s desk in the corner.

“Where is he? He was supposed to be here three hours ago,” a woman’s shrill voice called from inside the room.

Leaning his shoulder on the wall outside the office, Lu glanced around the living room, noting Marcy had an expensive taste. A red chaise lounge set in front of the marble fireplace, along with a bear rug. Paintings covered the white walls, and a black grand piano stood in the corner next to the patio leading out to the inground pool.

He heard a young man mumble something incoherent.

“Give it here, you incompetent oaf.”

With a deep breath, Lu stepped from behind the wall and stood just outside the doorway.

“Always gotta do everything around here,” Marcy muttered under her breath as she signed her signature.

A deep chuckle left Lu’s chest. In an instant, Marcy’s gaze flicked from the paper to him.

An evil grin curled her chapped lips. “Well, you sure took your time.” She turned to the frazzled brown-haired boy and handed him the papers. “Leave.”

As the young man scurried from the room, Lu stepped in. “I’m not one to rush.”

For a second, he paused, realizing the tip of her usually pointy nose was missing. Along with her two pinky fingers. And it looked as if she’d caught a case of leprosy—bumps lining her chin and dead skin hanging from her forehead. Not to mention, the balding taking place on her scalp. Her blonde hair hung in thin clumps, and he had the urge to name her “Patches.”

Blinking off the shock, he strutted into her office, looking around with a holier-than-thou disposition. He was certain his arrogance pissed her off more than anything. Marcy glared but kept her smile.

“So, why’d you call?”

“I need your help with someone.”

Lu fiddled with the gnome ornaments on her desk. “Who?”

“A girl I can’t seem to catch.”

His eyes flicked to hers. “Gone soft, have you?” Her smile faded into gritting teeth. “What’s in it for me?”

“Did you seriously just ask that?” She cut her blue eyes and rubbed her forehead. “What do you think’s in it for you? A soul to add to your list.”

And he never said no to a free soul.

As her words sank in, he scowled, his eyes cold and calculating. “What do you have in mind?”

“You just do whatever you feel is necessary at the time. Knock her out, or do your little voodoo wonders on her. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be that creative, just as long as she gets back to me alive.”

“Body’s rotting that bad, huh?”

“What do you think?”

He paced in front of her desk. “So, who’s the girl?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but she’s got the ingredient I need to finish my spell.”

He cocked a brow. “You don’t even know her name?”

“Do I look like a fucking detective, Lu? I know the elf’s name, and for me, that’s enough. I just wanna have her heart on a silver platter in front of me. I’m hungry, and literally falling apart.”

“And how do you expect me to find her?”

“You’re Satan, Prince of Darkness, King of the Underworld, do your voodoo and figure out where she is.”

“Exactly. I’m Satan, not God. Unless she’s made a deal with one of my minions, then I don’t know her off the top of my head, sweetness.” He played with his unruly black hair in the mirror on her wall. “I need something of hers to get an idea of where she is.”

Marcy sucked her teeth, her fingernails tapping the arms of her chair. “Really?”

The witch sighed loudly, leaned forward, and opened the bottom drawer of her desk. She dug around for a minute before sitting up straight and slamming down a single piece of paper in front him.

Lucifer lifted the vanilla paper, eyeing the sketch as an uncontrollable hatred stirred within him, his hands trembling with rage. Heat crawled up the collar of his white button-down shirt, along his neck and to his face.

“That good enough, Prince?”

His eyes turned into slits as he switched his fiery gaze to Marcy. “Where did you get this?”

In an instant, the witch’s face paled as if he’d stabbed her with his words.

“One of my men found it in a hotel room she stayed in.”

He breathed deep, closed his eyes, and a thousand memories flooded him, ones that weren’t his own. A tiny cottage, the dark woods, and a coarse river running between mountains—it all flashed to him in a matter of seconds.

But that’s not what piqued his interest or told him exactly where the girl was. It was the hazy outline of a man shrouded in darkness. He couldn’t see his face, but the power pouring off him in the memory alone told Lu exactly who he was.

“Well, hello,” Lu muttered as a wolfish grin spread across his face.

Marcy perked up like a girl scout. “You found her?”

He glared down at the sketch. “I found a lot more than just her.”

#The Wicked Beasts That Roam #Story #Writing #Romance #Fantasy #Supernatural #Reading

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rockymountainwriter · 7 years ago

Text

Modern Day Slavery: Human Sex Trafficking Among Native American Women

I can remember as a young girl, I wanted to go to college and become a teacher. However, I didn’t just want to teach in a regular school. I wanted to live and teach on an Indian Reservation. I don’t know where this came from but my empathy for the Native American has always been with me. My mother, who is part Native American, was put in a home when she was only seven. Her mother and father were both alcoholics as was her grandmother. The three of them would get rip roaring drunk, leaving my mother and her three brothers to fend for themselves up in the hills of Altoona, PA. They hunted squirrel for food, and often times did not have a warm coat to wear in the winter. My grandfather worked deep in the bowels of the earth shoveling coal. One bitter cold winter day he came home to find all four children out on the front porch of their tiny shack they called home. My great grandmother and grandmother were entertaining men inside and the children had gotten in the way. It was then he decided it was time to think of the kids and he put them in a Catholic charity home.

All four children were separated and it wasn’t until they became adults did they reconnect with each other. Their life was extremely hard growing up in the Catholic orphanage. The nuns were cruel and because they were half breeds, it entitled them to an even crueler lifestyle. They were beaten on a regular basis, had their heads dipped in scalding hot water, and their bodies scrubbed down with stiff bristled scrub brushes. They became slaves to the nuns, mopping floors, cleaning toilets with toothbrushes, and endless amounts of laundry. There was no time to play or to even own toys, a doll for my mother or some toy trucks for her brothers. Life was hard. They lived in poverty and hopelessness. My mother often wonders where her life would have gone if she had not been adopted out at the age of fifteen to her father’s sister. It became quite evident shortly after moving into her new home the reason she was taken out of the Catholic orphanage. She became their slave. Not a sex slave but one who had to take care of the household, not just cleaning but cooking. She went to school but when they told her she would have to earn money to wear a bra or to buy Kotex for herself, she dropped out of the ninth grade. She got a job working at a local creamery, and this is where she met my father, a handsome Italian man who wore an Airforce uniform. They knew each other two months when my father proposed, offering her a better life in New York. She took it.

When I first came across an article about Native American women and sex trafficking, it wrenched my stomach. The more research I did on it, the more disturbed I became. This problem has existed since the 1500s, when the Europeans came over and drove the American Indian off their lands. They pillaged and raped. They captured and enslaved. They massacred. I couldn’t believe it was still going on today in every aspect. My bubble burst. A friend of mine works with Dakota youth on an Indian reservation and I became involved in helping them raise money for their children and their schools. However, I was shocked to learn the true statistics of what happens to their young children, especially young girls, in the 21st century. This is when I met Lisa Brunner.

Lisa Brunner has been an active advocate in the sex trafficking of Native American women for many years. She lives on a reservation in the Dakotas. She is educated and wants to end the violence perpetrated against her sisters. The young girls on her reservation look up to her and see her as a role model. Traveling all over the world to meet with other advocates and government officials discussing ways to end the violence against Native American women, Lisa, along with her seventeen year old son, found themselves in Oslo, Norway at a summit hearing this past summer discussing the success of the Nordic Model. The Nordic Model, also known as the Sex Buyer Law, decriminalizes all those who are prostituted and makes buying people for sex a criminal offence. The Nordic Model has been implemented by Sweden, Norway, Australia, Canada, and soon New Zealand. “As a Native American woman, I normally do not feel safe traveling alone so I bring my seventeen year old son with me. One day, after the summit talks, we decided to take in some sights in the city of Oslo. We found ourselves in a little town square with cobblestone streets and many outdoor cafés. Walking by one of the cafes, my son and I had noticed three large men sitting outside, two black men and one white man. As we approached, I could feel their eyes devouring every part of my body, making me very uncomfortable. We decided to go to a different café across from where these men were sitting. While enjoying our lunch, a young girl, from Nigeria I think, was walking with her mother and older sister. I could tell they were enjoying each other’s company as well as the beautiful weather. They were all engaged in a conversation, laughing and smiling as they walked along the cobblestones. It didn’t take long for one of the black men to get up from his seat and walk over to the young girl who looked to be around fourteen. As he joined the three of them, his attention was on the young girl and I noticed he was rubbing his hand up and down her back. Not only did my stomach churn while watching this brazen act, but I began to feel nauseous. Her body language clearly displaying she was not comfortable with this man touching her. I could see the fear in her facial expression. I overhead him say to her, “Are you for sale?” Pulling away from him, reaching for her mother, she vehemently told him she was not for sale, all three scurried as fast as they could out of the area. Walking back to his friends, laughing, I overheard him telling them, I guess she’s not for sale. I, myself, was visibly shaken by witnessing this encounter as was my son. He told me then and there, I was not to go anywhere without him”.

According to Lisa, “More than 1 in 3 Native American women will be raped, more than 6 in 10 will be physically assaulted and Native women will be murdered at a rate of ten times more than the national average.” Native Americans have the highest dropout rate from high school. They have the highest homeless, runaway and thrown away youth in shelters than any other group nationwide as well as the highest percent of children involved in the welfare system. Most of these young girls have been sexually assaulted/abused from someone in their family and the majority are either drug users or become drug addicted. Many believe it is a “career choice” for them because their mother or grandmother were prostitutes. And the biggest cause of all this, says Lisa, is poverty and history.

Native women in Duluth, Minnesota are extremely vulnerable to being lured into prostitution. Generations of them have sold themselves to survive. This story, in particular, from Indian Country Today by Mary Annette Pember is a powerful one about three generations of Native women who have sold themselves out to prostitution in order to survive. Mary and her mother Ruth are just two Native American women who have survived the life of a “boat whore”. And yet, the citizens of Duluth, fearful if they talk about it and oftentimes feel it might infect them somehow if they do talk about it, sweep it under the carpet and say “boys will be boys”. “The story of the boat whore has been like a queer kind of natural disaster that visits destruction on the powerless yet holds them responsible” (Pember 2012).

The story of Mary starts from her birth. She was one of 21 children conceived through her mother’s liaisons with seamen. Her exposure to the “life” was an accident. She was 15, broke and homeless, standing on the street with a girlfriend when a Pakistani man approached them. He invited the girls on board his boat, and thus began her life on the boats. She would meet seamen in Duluth and accompany them back to their ships, where she would have sex with them and other crew members in exchange for food, money, drinks, and a place to stay. Most times she stayed on the ships as they sailed from port to port. “Life on the boats was a nonstop party”. Mary claims the seamen treated her better than her white foster parents. However, things changed after 9/11 and Mary found herself being pimped out by an older white woman and her husband who owned a bar. She says she drank all the time and took care of the bar’s customers in exchange for food, lodging, child care, and alcohol. She desperately wanted out of the life of prostitution and it wasn’t until she got very sick and was put into a nursing home that her time as a prostitute ended.

Mary is now 51 and lives in a small but comfortable house overlooking the bright, clear waters of Lake Superior. Advocates say that Mary’s ability to normalize her life as a child prostitute is common among Native girls who have been frequently exposed to sexual abuse and violence. Research done in a report by Shattered Hearts found that “Native girls and women who exchange sex for food and shelter don’t consider the acts to be prostitution” (Shattered Hearts 22). They are simply doing what they have to do to stay alive, engaging in survival sex. But Mary worries about her daughter, who at the age of 14 began her life with a pimp so she could have nice clothes to wear. No matter what she tells her daughter, her answer is “look at you – you did the same thing!” Mary has gone from child prostitute, to survivor, to advocate. Today, Mary focuses her time on spreading the word about the dangers of sex trafficking, she says, “You know, for a long time I didn’t care about anything, but now I’m getting my groove back”

I can’t help but wonder what would have happened to my mother if she had not met my father when she did. Would she have turned to prostitution eventually? According to the stats, it’s quite possible. She could be considered a throw away youth, she endured years of physical and emotional abuse, she dropped out of school in ninth grade, and she lived in poverty. When she was adopted, it was only to take care of an aging aunt and uncle. For me, growing up and listening to the horrific details of my mother’s young life has caused me to empathize with Native American women. After speaking with Lisa, it has lit a fire in my belly to educate everyone I can about this ever troubling problem. Do I think the Nordic Model would work here? I don’t know. Like Sweden, much research will need to go into such a program before implementing it in the United States. We may not be able to change history, but we can change the poverty status of all the Native American Indian reservations.

Works Cited

Brunner, Lisa. Personal interview. 13 Sept. 2016

Pember, Mary Annette. (2012). “Native Girls are being Exploited and Destroyed at an Alarming Rate”. Indian Country Today Media Network. 16 August 2012. Web.

“The Commercial Sexual Exploitation of American Indian Women and Girls in Minnesota”. Shattered Hearts. Minnesota Indian Women’s Resource Center. August 2009.

Picture: Port of Duluth. Indian Country Today Media Network. 16 August 2012. Web.

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