#but seriously imagine the rules lawyering chaos

[the-northern-continent]

The joke is that you can’t play Wicked Grace with Spite. As soon as he’s revealed, the game immediately ends.

[magicalforcesau]

Letters (part 2)

As Obi-Wan and Satine continue their written correspondence in the back half of their Hogwarts career, their bond strengthens to the point where it might not strictly be platonic.

ao3 link

Fifth Year Summer

Dear Ben,

I GOT MY MENTORSHIP REQUEST APPROVED! I’m going to be a peer mentor this upcoming year! Oh, I know this is going to be another responsibility when we’re already saddling quite a bit with OWLS and our duties as prefects. While it was your initial idea to join, I have no regrets. If I’m to influence the minds of thousands from the Ministry, it will do me good to have practice on a smaller and more impressionable scale. Besides, far too many first years are led astray in my opinion. Having firm and caring guidance will be most beneficial.

I hope you can write to me with the same news, even if I still believe you are pushing yourself far too hard. Just please consider your own mental health for this upcoming term. You’re already wound tighter than anyone I know. I would truly not like to partake in the bets that Fives and Echo make behind your back about when your head will explode. I believe either myself or Cody would win. We know you best.

Speaking of being wound tight, I have been dedicating my summer to the practice of enchanting muggle objects as per our homework assignments. Turns out, it truly is not that difficult. I’ve been careful not to alter anything that would come into contact with other muggles, but I look forward to showing you the results of some of my recreations. Between you and me, I’ve been constructing some that were not on the instructed list.

You’re not technically a prefect yet, Obi-Wan Kenobi, so don’t even think about making a wise remark about how you could see me in trouble.

Yours Truly,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I, too, just received confirmation that I’m to mentor a first year this upcoming school year! Regardless of your speculation and wariness, I stand by my decision. We will be kept busy, but idle minds mean time wasted. If you hadn’t agreed on principle, I don’t believe you would have signed up right behind me. As for my extracurricular activities, pretending as though I am not stressed in the slightest about the prospect of the coming year is futile, but I hope to work through it and to become a better student as a result of it. My father has relented on training by Quidditch form. There are bigger things to worry about such as OWLS, which is why I’m to be locked in all summer. No complaints there- I’d much rather read.

Speaking of reading, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the books you snuck into my trunk. Yes, I found them and they were quite a welcome surprise. A bit of relaxing education is just what the doctor ordered. Not literally, because I loathe visiting my family’s practitioner. He takes the term “witch doctor” to new levels and I will leave it at that.

You’ve always been far better at charming objects than I ever have. To be fair, I still don’t have a full understanding of what certain muggle objects actually do, but I’ve got most of the list marked off by this point. While I promise not to report you for deliberate rule breaking, I do admire your gumption. I hope you’ll one day let me see what you’ve crafted. You know I adore learning the novelties of the muggle world. I believe last we spoke, you were telling me about ‘computers’.

As always, I’d love to know more. You have a manner of speaking that simply can’t go unnoticed, at least not to me.

Best,

Obi-Wan

Fifth Year- Winter

Dear Satine,

I apologize if this owl reaches you at an indecent hour. I know how you are about your beauty sleep. It’s been strange being back home, even if for a couple of weeks. It’s only made me realize just how unreal this year has been in terms of excitement and mystery. Though I do not blame the boy for any of it, I won’t lie that it was a much quieter school without Anakin Skywalker present. I wouldn’t change any of it, of course. I believe I am making a difference in working with him. He has a bright mind, if he chooses to use it.

I still can’t get the vision of him foaming at the mouth on the floor out of my head. There’s no doubt that someone has it in for him. I can only imagine who. While eccentric, Anakin is still just a child. He’s harmless.

At risk of drastically changing the subject- my true reason for writing was to thank you again for the watch. My parents have ingrained in me the importance of writing thank you notes regardless of the nature of the gift. However, this might be the first time the sentiment has felt important in action. It may sound ungrateful, but a boy can only receive so many tie clips before he starts to sound a bit robotic in his delivery.

However, please note that every word I say, I mean through my very bones. I hope you didn’t take my silence at receiving it to be anything less than breathlessness. You always keep me guessing, Satine Kryze, and I would have you no different. I am still in awe every time I catch a gander at my wrist.

You did a marvelous job in transfixing and refurbishing it. Seriously, it is of no wonder that Charms comes easier to you than it does to me. Had I not known otherwise; I would have assumed this watch was always crafted with the intention of being magical. Even if it were just a standard watch, it would still have meant more to me than anything I’ve received simply because it came from you. My friend. I’m not sure I deserve it.

I suppose I’ve no excuse for fear of being late any longer, now do I?

It’s never coming off!

Obi-Wan

Dear Ben,

I’m no longer, by any means, insinuating that the boy is trouble. Or more accurately, I don’t believe he’s cognizant of these omens. What concerns me, is Qui-Gon seems to believe that a dark time is upon us. He won’t share his suspicions outright, but I can tell just by how he talks to Anakin with a certain level of wonder and curiosity. Surely, you see it too.

Even still, I say, when school starts up, we try and start our own investigation- off the books and away from Anakin, of course. We needn’t worry him more than he already is. Perhaps while Gryffindor has the field for Quidditch practice we can better research. There’s been too many strange occurrences this year for it to all be coincidental. I’d argue this is the tipping point.

We can further discuss a game plan back at school, but at risk of hurting feelings and potentially endangering lives, we should keep this between us.

I am, however, glad to hear you enjoyed the watch ♥

Yours,

Satine

Sixth Year- Summer

Dear Satine,

I received my OWLS results today as I’m sure you did the same. I wanted you to hear from me, personally, that I am, in fact, alive and well despite what I received as scores. I’m surprised at how alive and how well, quite actually.

For some context- I received all O’s in everything… With the exception of Arithmancy- of which I got an E. I’m not positive where exactly I went wrong in studying for it. I don’t recall the exam being particularly difficult. It’s never been a prized subject of mine as you well know, but I’ve always delivered nothing less than near-perfect marks.

My parents took the news surprisingly well. As opposed to blaming me for slacking off or being distracted by frivolous things such as friends… They were in support of me. In fact, they’re positive that the school is deliberately discriminating against me. I think it might have to do with the recent revelation regarding Anakin being the chosen one. They’ve been much kinder to me and the choices I’ve made as a result of my association with him. Where they believed I was wasting my time, I apparently “saw” what they couldn’t- even if my decision to mentor Anakin had absolutely nothing to do with the matter.

I still have not yet mentioned my pursuit of becoming an Auror. You have to space this kind of news out when you can. They’ve supported me on this, but I’m not sure they’d take that in stride. My parents have been itching to have me become a lawyer or a politician for as long as I can remember.

How were your scores? I’m sure you did brilliantly. I should know, I studied alongside you during all of this madness. I’m eager to properly celebrate with you when we next meet. My mother asked me where I’d gotten the watch the other day and I exclaimed that the brightest witch of my age crafted it for me personally… She assumed it was Ventress, but you’ve always thrived in the chaos of being underestimated, now haven’t you? I will never make that mistake.

Truly,

Ben

Dear Ben,

Don’t you ever scare me with such a dramatic introduction ever again! I nearly had a heart attack, assuming you’d gone and failed your OWLS in a fit of insanity. Given how unusual our fifth year was, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it had another anomaly to toss our way. I thought I was going to have to portkey to you and shake the living daylights out of you for being so foolish.

You landed on your feet, as you always do and seem to make it look incredibly easy to those that do not know any better. We’re matching, actually, except my E was in DADA- likely during the practical session when I wouldn’t cast that Sectumsempra spell. To have us perform such an act on a defenseless animal is cruel (even if it was a spider), particularly in the name of ‘testing’. If they must endorse the epidemic of violence, can they not simply provide test dummies?

I’m actually surprised I scored that high, since the instructor looked at me like I had ten heads. I spoke to Cody today. He passed, despite how hard he doubted himself. We both knew that he would do fine, of course.

Ventress has been around a lot more frequently, hasn’t she? I know that she’s been quite displaced ever since Dooku’s outing. She’s quite smug and entitled for someone who hardly does anything aside from being an errand girl to a Sith terror. I’m sure she’ll be continuing her tricks this year. To think your family thinks you could be as shrewd and awful as her.

How is Anakin this summer? I contemplated sending him an owl just to see how he was processing the more recent revelations, but it would most likely sound more from the heart if it came from you. You were truly excellent with him this year, if I hadn’t already mentioned it. I know I convinced you to break away from the status quo and lean into your desires to become an auror, but you’ve got a real knack for teaching and seeing the best in people. It’s truly one of your best traits. That, and the fact that regardless how much of a mess you are, you always manage to look pristine from head to toe.

Actually, that last bit is borderline infuriating. I hope to see you before the summer lets out. I understand why that might be difficult, but it seems with your parents’ investment in Anakin, you might have a valid reason to be away from the homestead more often. If you understand what I’m saying.

Best,

Satine

Sixth Year- Winter

{A draft from the desk of Obi-Wan Kenobi}

[Boldened text in parenthesis] = out loud thoughts

Dear Satine,

How do I say this without sounding like a damn fool? You kissed me!

It’s been brought to my attention by literally everyone that we have a certain noticeable chemistry. [Why am I saying what everyone else thinks when I should be saying what I think?] Usually, when we are together, we argue. A lot. Sometimes, I’m surprised we haven’t strangled each other yet by how heated some of our debates become. You have this ability to get under my skin in a way that no one else possesses. Truthfully, I love [Too strong! Don’t go scaring her off now] truly appreciate that about you.

But there are times when I get this feeling… And it’s come on more and more the longer I know you… Like we could get beyond the possible strangulation phase and onto something… Better. [What is wrong with me?] You challenge me and I think sometimes I’m able to challenge you as well. I think having people in your life that push you to be the best you can be is a sign of true companionship friendship. You’ve become a constant in my life that I wouldn’t shake even if I could. Looking back, it’s only natural for me to grow feelings for you.

Where I tried to convince myself those feelings were simply an intense comradery, I cannot deny that I do not notice how the light casts on Cody’s hair or linger on him as he walks away [Blast that makes me sound like a pervert] wonder what his hand would feel like in mine. My heart doesn’t quicken if Cody touches my shoulder or laughs at one of my jokes. Cody doesn’t sit incredibly close to me at the dining hall, but if he did, I would be more confused than completely entranced. Cody is my other best friend, but my entire day is not made or broken by seeing him smile.

I wouldn’t be jealous if the seventh year boys decided to notice that Cody was beautiful.

And you are disarmingly beautiful, but I’ve always known that, even if I try to ignore it.

You can imagine how terrifying all of this is to realize at the remarkable hour of 3 in the morning- a mere 3 hours after you decided to kiss me under the mistletoe. How am I supposed to think of anything else now or ever again? Which leads me to think [Don’t be presumptuous] wonder… If you share these feelings. And if you do, we’ve got quite a predicament there. Because if I could blissfully convinced myself that we could never be, I’d be able to bury that deep within me, but even the idea of hope that you could see me in that light… I fear that would be all too tempting. The evidence says that you might. You’ve always been a better investigator than myself, but I can’t shake this feeling that we have these spellbound moments where everything slows down. And it’s just you and me. During those moments, everything is alright.

Usually, when I’m troubled as I am now, I do not hesitate to reach out to you. You’re my co-conspirator, my fellow prefect, my best friend. However, given the situation, that’s not very easy to do. Even if Qui-Gon speaks of it like it is . I wish it were, because now all I can imagine is the mark you’ve left with your kiss. It’s the same sort of feeling I get every time I touch the face of the watch you gifted me last year.

Should I ever muster up the courage to send this letter to you, which I definitely shouldn’t, because you deserve the sort of man that would bare his heart in person, please understand that while I’ve dedicated my life to studying magical text, I’m not nearly as well-versed in the subject of love. Since I’m so certain you’ll never read this, there’s no point in denying that it’s anything less than love.

Love,

Ben

Seventh Year- Summer

Dear Ben,

I wanted to ensure that you were on the road of being okay, all things considering. I tried to wait to give you space, but I couldn’t make it more than a week without knowing you weren’t going mad locked up in that house of yours. I’m not even positive you’ll write me back, which is infuriating, but understanding since Qui-Gon’s passing is not one to be taken lightly by anyone, but especially you. I wish I could alleviate the pain you must be feeling in any way.

I’m relieved just a little bit, knowing that Anakin is in your care. It was very surprising of your parents to offer him refuge, as he’s currently got no one else to possibly lean on. Hopefully the two of you can find some solace in each other during these difficult times. I care for both of you very much and my heart aches knowing I am virtually helpless in making this any better. I know you are likely placing an immense amount of pressure on yourself to distract you from addressing your own mentor’s death, but while your parents might encourage this behavior, it’s not a true way of coping. You need to let someone in.

Stay safe. Do not hesitate to reach out (no matter how cliché that sounds). Even if you talk to Cody instead, that’s fine. Just… Don’t lock yourself in that head of yours and go rogue. I’d miss you far too much.

With Love,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I’m not okay, but I’ll have to be soon. Anakin is safe and on the same boat. I’ll write later with a real reply. I’m not quite in the spirit right now. I just wanted you to know that I haven’t gone completely mad in absence.

~Obi-Wan

Dear Satine,

I’m sorry to be writing to you so late in “true” reply. I’ve been quite busy with Anakin this summer. It has been helpful having someone else around. While a gray cloud still seems to follow him around, I’d say he’s faring better than expected. It’s alarming how resilient the boy is, but also incredibly depressing that it needs to be that way. We’ve discussed the matter of Qui-Gon’s death a couple of times. While you won’t like this, I think there is some closure to knowing that Anakin’s attacker, who became Qui-Gon’s murderer, is dead.

Meanwhile, I must confess that it still haunts me every night. I haven’t said anything to Anakin, because like you rightfully assumed, I’m not about to unload that burden onto him. He feels it’s his fault just as much as I do. We’ve taken to playing Quidditch outside. My family owns several acres of land, so we are able to get out of earshot every now and then. Anakin actually gets on quite nicely with my parents, which is a massive relief. Getting back to school for our final year will be a good way to get back into routine. On the other hand, I’m dreading trying to attempt adjusting to a school without Qui-Gon.

I suppose studying my brains out for the NEWTS alongside you will provide for ample distraction. You, alone, are admittedly very distracting. I am referring to your character of course. A general statement.

There’s always Quidditch, unfortunately, which isn’t nearly as fun and carefree as playing with Anakin in the yard. Despite how massively competitive he is? He’s just turned 13 and he’s loads better than me already. I still hate the flying aspect.

I’m writing you, of course, because we just got notified that I’m to be the Head Boy to your Head Girl. This incredibly tragic time has truly made me appreciate the people I have in my life. You are, without a doubt, shining at the top of that metaphorical list in bold and underlined print. I wouldn’t be Head Boy had it not been for you.

A lot has changed thus far, Satine, and I’m growing tired of being afraid. Life is too short and it’s always going to throw negatives at us- some that are absolutely debilitating. However, there is always the light, which has made me think that perhaps this year, some changes don’t have to be bad. There are many things I’d like to discuss with you, in person. Because this sort of conversation should be the kind that happens face-to-face.

Would you like to meet before school?

Truly Yours,

Ben

[thetsxshibiscusanon]

Thomceit Hamilton AU Cast

Alrighty, here it is- the post about my Thomceit Hamilton AU that I took like three days to write, hoo boy-

Okay so, this is just the cast of the AU and also just going into some ship ramblings because if I got into the whole thing now, we’d be here for days- so let’s get on with it!

----

The Sanders Sides Characters Roles

~Just to clarify, I’m doing this TS Universe by TS Universe, because there’s a LOT of characters in both fandoms, so the cast are gonna be updated with each reblog~

Alexander Hamilton: Janus 

Why? Well, the colour theme’s for the album match Janus’ general colour aesthetic, Janus is all about taking that chance no matter what and Alex is all about not throwing away his shot, both have got that lawyer association aaaaaaaand I’m just kidding, I wanted to make a Thomceit Helpless animatic in the August of 2019- I never had any plans for this thing, it just happened. 

But yeah- dramatic snake boy lawyer meets dramatic Founding Father lawyer-

----

The Schuyler Sisters:

Angelica: Roman

Roman just radiates fabulous, feminist, older sibling vibes- just imagine him in Angelica’s dress but a bit more red and you’ve got it down! 

Satisfied also radiates Roman vibes- the pink-red colour scheme, the sacrifice, the longing and pining- it all works so well for him! I can also imagine him in Congratulations- especially with the lines ‘He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response!’, ‘...Sacrifice?’ and ‘Eliza~ is the BEST thing in our lives!’ especially since I’m making Thomas Eliza here, because, in some cases, it really parallels what actually happened in the series:

Roman sacrificed the thing he most wanted (Janus/the callback) for Thomas (Eliza/his core) because he wanted what was best for him and what was right for him- and in both cases, he was wrong! My boy either doesn’t get to chase his dreams and feels miserable about it, or he gets cheated on and feels miserable about it- there’s no winning here! (Can you tell that I felt no remorse whilst writing this? /hj)

Also, I thought the line 'He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response!’ didn’t really apply to Janus when I initially made this, but HOO BOY was I wrong-

Eliza: Thomas

Can you tell that Thomceit is my favourite ship? No? You can’t? Well I’m just about to take off the blindfold you’re wearing and talk about much of an amazing husband Thomas would be-

First though, I have to say, Thomas gives off such Eliza vibes on his own anyways- cinnamon bun that needs to be protected and has gone through a lot? Uh, yes! 

Thomas would absolutely be the type to fall head over heels for a cute guy he saw across the room (I mean we all saw FWSA, right?). He'd see Janus and be all 'Wait, frick, handsome boy- what do I do- ROMAN-' and I love that so much.

Ironically though, Hamilton was the one who really fell hard, historically at least, so the fact that in this AU Thomas falls like Eliza did but in the 'canon' Janus and Hamilton are both the actual simps is hilarious to me-

He would totally be the supportive partner he was always meant to be- assuring Janus everything will turn out fine and being sweet and caring like he always is.

On the flip side. Thomas is probably one of the only characters who would actually bite back when cheated on too. Patton is a great option for Eliza, but because Patton is associated the most with nostalgia as a character, I don't think he'd be burning any letters any time soon, he'd hold on to those memories- but Thomas would probably burn the letters as soon as he got the chance, in order to try and forget everything- to burn all the memories. Also, I just wanna see Thomas raging at Janus in First Burn- can you imagine how badass he would be? The passion and fury radiating from him in that song would be just *chef's kiss* incredible!

And here's the strongest argument I have: Eliza is the person who tells the story, of Hamilton, of the soldiers, of Washington- and who is responsible for telling us what goes on in the TS Universe?

Thomas.

I rest my case! (There wasn't one to begin with but shhhh)

(Also, Hamilton and Eliza had 8 kids, and we all know Thomas is the tired mother of 6 children-)

And Peggy (hah): Remus

The main reason for this is, as I'm sure you can guess, because I made Roman Angelica. I mean, how could I not make Remus Peggy? I do have some legitimate reasons though.

Peggy has always been given the chaotic younger sister energy in the fandom, basically the Gen Z child- and Remus embodies Gen Z's chaos perfectly, it's honestly kind of scary. Remus would absolutely be the sibling who's just there to vibe and cause chaos, but would totally be there to help if you wanted it.

The problem here, is that Peggy is constantly asking about the girls' father in Schuyler Sisters, and worrying about consequences- which is not a Remus thing at ALL, but I can imagine Remus asking those questions like '👀 So what's the dealio?' And then being delighted at the responses that come from the others like 'YEAH- Let's break the rules!'

Peggy was also very good friends with Hamilton historically, and we all know Janus and Remus are best friends (that's not canon, but it is now)!

So- Peggy and Remus! Let's go!

----

The Hamilsquad (Sides! Edition):

Aaron Burr: Logan

Logan is the most logical (hah) character to play Burr in my opinion:

Burr kills Hamilton, and Logan is probably the only Side who could actually defeat Janus in some way (Logic overcrowds the lies and reasons its way out of them), and if having a presence and some control got Janus to sink down, then what would happen to Janus if he Logan had full control?

Logan, like Burr, wants to be in the Room Where it Happened- he wants to be listened to- that's self-explanatory, but what gets interesting to me is the waiting ideology both of them have.

We all know Burr waits for opportunities- he had a whole song on it! But what people tend to forget is that Logan has also waited for chances and holds back opinions- the best example would be in LNTAO, where he admits to Thomas that he's been holding back his opinions for far too long and that he doesn't think people take Thomas seriously enough.

That 'wait for the right moment attitude' is instilled in both of them- and while Janus also partially has that attitude, he's also got a 'Leap for the chance and take it' attitude- which is why I can imagine him telling Logan 'You get love for it, you get hate for it- you get nothing if you wait for it' and 'What do you want Burr?'

He'd be the one to ask 'When are you finally going to take a stand and say "I want to be heard?" When are you going to take the chance?'

John Laurens: Virgil

Virgil's role as Laurens is mainly because of symbolism- the idea that you had these two great friends who were in it together, and one of them left (either this life or the Others) and that tore them apart in one way or the other.

Also, Laurens and Hamilton were hiding something- those letters said A LOT, and Jan and Virge act like two ex-boyfriends, like what is this-

----

Theodosia Sr.: Patton

This may just be my Logicality heart screaming, but I think this makes sense- Theodosia always gave off a sweet, soft motherly energy even though we never see her on screen or hear her voice. From what he heard about her, she seemed to be the loving mother character (Eliza was more the loving wife and widow figure, but she did have motherly traits for sure), and we all know Patton would rock the loving mother figure role- there isn't really much more to it.

----

I think that's all I can really say on the Sides characters' roles! There's gonna be more to this but this is a lot as it is, and I wanted to get this done ASAP.

So ye! I hope you enjoyed reading this and are looking forward about what's to come!

[aleapoffaithfiction]

IV.

I hope that you're the one. If not, you are the prototype - Andre 3000

“What do you think about this lipstick? I’m about to take it off and just stick with a lip gloss. I can never seem to get red lipstick to work on me. Meanwhile, every single shade that exists works on you.” In the midst of listening to Taylor’s commentary about a Dose of Colors lipstick that is absolutely perfect on her, I continued to nod my head along to “Too Deep for The Intro” from J. Cole’s “Friday Night Lights” mixtape. Despite it being released damn near seven years ago, it still feels and sounds better than anything that’s out right about now so it shall always remain in rotation alongside some of my all-time favorite Hip-Hop musical masterpieces. It also sounds damn good as we continue this journey down I-95 S to Pennsylvania. It’s been quite some time since I’ve actually driven a distance longer than twenty minutes and I can admit that I’m actually enjoying this. Traffic is clear, the sun is shining brighter than ever, and the weather hasn’t quite reached the brutally chilly temperatures that are on the way. I’m enjoying the wind smacking me in the face and blowing my hair all over the place. It’s damn near ninety degrees, why wouldn’t I?

“That red lipstick looks fucking good on you. You’re overthinking it. Also, my black ass cannot wear every shade ever. I just figure out ways to make them work on me and usually, lip liner is the trick. I think I have really deep berry liner in that bag. Try it and see if it works for you. If not, take it off and do the gloss.” To avoid having to stop and use the bathroom, I skipped out on grabbing a bite to eat from Wendy’s like Taylor did and now I regret it because my stomach is growling like hell. Given that the car is new, I don’t have any snacks in here but I’ll be damned if I don’t stop and grab some from a Quick Check on the way back.

“You’re talking about this one here?” I quickly glanced over and nodded my head to confirm.

“How was your time with Jesse when he came to Atlanta?”

“Pleasant. I can admit that he enjoyed it. He’s the first guy that I’ve ever had sleep in my apartment there and it was a different vibe but it felt nice. While it’s no sign that I’m ready to cohabitate with anyone just yet, I did like it for that time being.”

“So, you enjoyed finally sexing in your bed? That’s what you’re saying?” Her laughter filled our space as I called her out on such a discrete way of saying things. We both knew that’s exactly what she was alluding to.

“Well, I won’t deny that. It was damn good to be able to go at it multiple times between the night and the next morning, and then get up for a cup of coffee in my own kitchen. Hotel sex is only exciting the first couple of times. After that, it’s one big ass whatever. Do you know what it’s like to fuck in your own bed and then turn on your TV to watch one of your favorite shows while naked as the day you were born next to your fine as man? Heaven.”

“Oh, so you’re finally calling him your man now?” She refuses to label what they have as anything more than their “thing”. I understand the hesitance given the tough space he’s in when it comes to his children and divorce, but overall, he seems to have really taken a liking to her that comes with everything that a relationship is.

“I suppose so. We spoke about it and figured ah, what the hell, why not?”

“That’s nice to hear. I like you two together. He’s a good fit for you in a sense that he’s educated, sophisticated in certain ways, and he’s super mellow. That’s all you.” I always call Taylor my goody two shoes friend with the potty mouth, despite her quickly saying that it’s a label that I should be giving myself. If Jesse isn’t her perfect match, then I don’t know who is. If they don’t work out, she’ll still end up with some super educated business man or book writer of some sort. I feel like she likes them eclectic.

“And what exactly is your type? I’ve been trying to figure the shit out for the longest and it’s like I’m looking for lost treasure on some deserted island. Every single time I try and hook you up with someone, you avoid it like a plague. You’re not a lesbian. It was easy to rule that out because you didn’t want me.” I had to laugh with her, because I know she said that nonsense on purpose. She’s never been arrogant and easily becomes irritable whenever she encounters a person who is. We’ve had a ton of conversations about interviews that we’ve wanted to cut short due to some athlete thinking that he’s above being proper and approachable when speaking with us. If anything, we get it far worse than male reporters do.

“I don’t know what my type is. I feel like we all craft this dreamy guy in our heads with everything that we assume is our type, but ultimately, it’s unrealistic. There’s fantasy and reality, and in reality, there’s a lot that we’re willing to compromise about when it comes to finding love.”

“So why do you avoid hook ups? You won’t know until you get out there and try it out.”

“My sister ruined that for me. She’s the one who hooked me up with my ex and I’ve already opened up to you about how that turned out.” A moment of silence fell between us as she reflected on my past words about Shamel, while I did my best to avoid thinking about the man. It’s not very often that I do think of him because he’s an ink stain in my past that I’m working damn hard to erase.

“Well, that was then and this is now. It’s been four years since him and you’ve yet to really allow yourself to get out there. I’m pretty damn good with the vetting process, so you know I’m not bring anyone your way who I don’t believe is worthy, so what’s up? What you think of Michael B. Jordan? I know his best friend Sterling. I can hook something up. You know Black Panther is about to come out in a couple of months. He’s on fire right now.”

“Just because you have an actor in your bed doesn’t mean that I want one in mine. He’s probably running through every becky in Hollywood.”

“Oh my gosh. Shut up. You don’t know that.”

“You don’t either but it’s likely that he is. I’m not sure if I could ever get involved with a known guy. I’m sure there’s a brutal headache that comes with that. I certainly salute the wives of the players because I’ve heard more than enough stories for me to wonder why some of those women have yet to snap. The perks of being financially taken care of wouldn’t be anywhere near enough for me not to lose it. The disrespect is real.”

The manner in which those men cheat is unbelievable. I’ve heard about scenarios where the wife is in the arena sitting in the WAGs section and the mistress is only a couple of rows up amongst the spectators. Many of them have apartments in different cities that their spouses either do or do not know about. The manner in which these women flock to their hotels is shameful. And All-Star Weekend? Or even the Pro Bowl Weekend? Forget it. These are events literally created for the sake of the players being able to relax and have some fun while having their families be in the midst of it and yet they still have women all over whichever city is hosting it, fucking and sucking on them. I consider myself to be a pretty composed woman, but I don’t know how long I’d be able to keep it together if I were dealing with that. I’d probably end up on an episode of Snapped.

“Well, I can’t argue with you there, but not all of them are like that. I doubt Grant Hill has ever cheated on Tamia. What about Tim Duncan? That man isn’t cheating. Look at Ray Allen. Does he look like a cheater to you?”

“Uh, can you at least talk to me about players who are under thirty-five?”

“I doubt Steph is cheating on Ayesha.”

“The most vanilla couple in the league. Next?”

“You think Isaiah Thomas cheats?”

“Yo, T, shut up. You don’t even know what to say right now. You’re avoiding the big names because you know the deal.” I’d already been giggling, but it worsened as she side eyed me.

“All of them aren’t cheaters. What about the NFL? Look at Russell Wilson.”  

“NBA, NFL, MBL, ATP, WBA, EFL, and everything else. They’re all loosely slinging dick. Spare me.”

“And you think business men aren’t? What about the gym teachers? You think they don’t fuck around too? Doctors, lawyers, judges, scientists, you name it. There are shitty men everywhere and within every professional sector. Shit, the Starbucks barista is probably slipping in numbers while handing over caramel lattes and slinging dick too.”

“You’re right. And that’s exactly why I’m single.”

“Not everyone is the same.”

“I know that.”

“So then give yourself a chance to at least meet someone. What’s the big deal? Live a little.”

“Why are you always assuming that I’m not allowing myself to meet anyone? Have you ever thought about how I’ve yet to encounter a man who has peaked my interests? That’s truly what it is.”

“Seriously? That’s what it is?” 
“Yes.”

“I suppose I can believe that. You’re such a home body, so it’s not like you’re going to meet anyone there. You work around a bunch of old men up there at ESPN, so he won’t be there either.”

“There are some young guys behind the scenes but I’m not into the dating a co-worker thing. It just sounds like a nightmare filled with endless awkwardness.”

“That just means that I have to get you out more. That’s all.”

“You can try.”

And I’m sure she will. I most likely won’t mind it either. For as long as the environment isn’t one that’ll make me uncomfortable, I’m alright with being out on the scene. What I won’t be is “mixxy”. I’ve never been the one to feel compelled to fit into a bunch of circles in order to feel worthy of sitting at the cool table. I will always sit at my own table, whether I’m by myself or not.

“Thank you so much.” As I slipped Taylor her pass, I handed over my keys. Who the hell knew that this stadium has valet parking? Either way, I’m beyond appreciative because I can only imagine the chaos it is to find a parking space within anyone of the parking lots.

“I have two questions.”

“What?” As I slipped the lanyard around my neck, my eyes panned in her direction. Her eyebrows were already raised.

“One, what kind of Benz is that? It’s sexy.”

“It’s a 2018 E-Class Coupe.” I’d gotten it in Diamond White Metallic and didn’t even have to pay the extra fifteen hundred dollars for it. The exterior came with the night package including gloss accents and AMG body styling. The interior? Macchiato beige seats with red accents. I was able to have the heated and cooling ventilated seats, arm rests, and steering wheel that I wanted for the winter and summer time, and as far as everything else? Well it’s nice. I tuned him out because I’m not obsessed with cars enough to care about every single specific detail that doesn’t involve my safety. After going over the specifics, he was able to locate the exact make and design I wanted on Route 22 West in Union, New Jersey. As Beckham promised me, Phil Campbell certainly came through, not only with the car, but also with a damn good deal for it too.

“And who the hell are you fucking on the Eagles? I thought we were coming here with your ESPN credentials.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not fucking anyone within the sports world and you know this. Also, the Eagles? Please.”  

“Wait. O invited you to a game during that interview, right? Is this the game?” I figured she should have known. I had the jersey he gave me laying across the backseat in the car and it’s in my hand right now. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy going to sporting events, especially when it’s not work related, but I most likely wouldn’t have made the trip out here knowing that I have to work in the morning, if it weren’t for his invitation of thanks.  

“Can you come on?” We would have remained standing there had I not taken off before her.

“No, I want the details of how this all happened. O’s going to be so happy that you’re here. The man is obsessed with you.”

“Why do over exaggerate everything? Is that a Gemini trait or something?”

“But I’m not over exaggerating anything. He really does adore you. He asks about you whenever I see him.”

“You’ve told me that and as I said to you before, I’m flattered that he enjoys my work.”

“Look at you thinking it’s that simple. How cute.”

“Can you cut the shit and come on? Did you have anything to drink before we left the house?”

“No, no drinks yet but I’m going to have a mojito or something while I’m here. That’s for certain.”

I’ve never experienced the perks that comes with being a VIP or an athlete’s special guest but now I understand why everyone enjoys it. It opens the doors to just about every single access point within the stadium, except the locker rooms and with my ESPN credentials, I could easily get into both locker rooms after the game if was here for that purpose. In the midst of making our way upstairs, we were given an escort who explained everything that we’re welcome to, places that we’re entitled to be, and the free merchandise that comes with the passes. I’d almost forgotten about the food and drinks Beckham mentioned as I walked past all of the concession stands. I can never pass up a good ol’ chicken tender and fries’ basket while sitting at a game.

“And here is where you’ll be. I’ll be around to accommodate anything you may need Ms. Nazaire.”

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate that.”

“No problem.”

He opened the door to allow us to step inside what I’m sure is far more than necessary in terms of accommodations and I was certainly right as my eyes swiftly glanced over the posh interior and paused on the single person already enjoying all of it; Ms. Heather Van Norman. In no way, shape, or form did he mentioned that his mother would be around and though I don’t mind whatsoever, it does not negate my nervousness.

If he didn’t tell me, I for sure hope that he informed her because I’d hate to be the person to oddly intrude on her time and privacy as she watches her son play. Oh God. What if she thinks I used the man for all of this? It’s one thing for him to give me a thank you that I don’t even believe I deserve and it’s another for the thanks to come with perks that I’m sure no other analyst can say they’ve been given. Sure, there are some kind hearted athletes who will slip you an invitation to an event of theirs or embrace you with a hug and good conversation upon seeing you out of respect and appreciation but this? Nah, I don’t think so. This is about on the same caliber of myself being invited to the man’s house. I should have declined like I originally intended to.

“Heather! Oh my gosh. I didn’t know you’d be here.” Taylor stepped around my suddenly reluctant frame and immediately went into the beautiful woman’s awaiting arms.

“I’ve been in town for two weeks now. I head back tomorrow, but I figured I’d come out here and watch my boy play before I do. It’s so good to see you Taylor. I didn’t know you were coming with Sarai.”

“I’m crashing at her house while in town for some work with the Bleacher Report. So, she dragged me out. I’m glad she did though.”

“You knew I was coming?” I’d finally spoken up. I had to ask.

“Of course. Odell told me. How are you Sarai?” Once again, she opened her arms and she awaited my presence. How could I turn her down? The embrace was not only warm and welcoming, but it felt very maternal. It’s been quite some time since I embraced my own mother, so I appreciated it along with the kiss she planted on my cheek. I’ve always heard about how pleasant she is and she has lived up to that since our first meeting in Bristol.

“I’m well. Thank you for having me.”

“Oh no, thank you for coming. O will be thrilled. He was very adamant about me making sure you’re well taken care of while here, so I intend to do that so that you can give him a good report when you leave.” Both she and Taylor chuckled and yet Taylors came with widened eyes and eventually a smirk that I wish I never saw. With Heather standing alongside her, I was the only one who could see her teasing facial expressions and if I weren’t respectful enough to watch my mouth in front of Beckham’s mother, I’d tell her about herself.

“Are more people coming?”

“His friends are here, but they’re out there in the midst of the madness. That’s where they like to be. I was down there for a bit while he was running a couple of drills but I came back up here.”

“So, it’s just us in here?” He could have gotten us regular ol’ seats. Seriously Beckham?

“Yes. Just us. There will be food and drinks. They also have lounges where you can go and have drinks and hang out if you’re interested. You don’t have to be in here with this old gal if you don’t want.”

“Old gal? Don’t be silly! You look incredible.” I nodded in agreement with Taylor. I hope to look just as incredible as she does when I’m somewhere around her age.

“You do. I’d rather stick around so that I can get tips on how to remain so great looking.”

“My tip is to remain as stress free as possible and to keep doing whatever the both of you are doing, because you’re both absolutely stunning women. I always say that the both of you are a breath of fresh air amongst the men within your field. I also give a ton of credit to Jemele Hill, Pam Oliver, Lisa Salters, Cari Champion, Josina Anderson, Erin Andrews, Sage Steele, and Kim Jones. She’s such a good one when it comes to O. I’m sorry if I’m a bit biased to the reporters who actually take the time out to understand him.”

“No, no. I get it. And you’ve named so many women that I look up to.” I’ve gotten the opportunity to meet every single woman she listed and I chose to just sit and soak up all of the advice and gems they were willing to offer so that I can transition into my sportscaster role in a knowledgeable space. It’s even more incredible that the majority of the women that she named are black faces. While there aren’t many of us, the ones that are around cannot be missed or mistaken.

“And now you have so many who look up to you, like my Jazzy. It’s full circle.”

“Aww, thank you. Is she here too?”

“No. She’s home. She’ll be up here soon enough and she’d love to meet you. She and Taylor are already homegirls, according to her.” 
“That is my homegirl. I love her.” I wouldn’t be able to escape this one and with the expression on Taylor’s face as she grabs a bottle of water off of the table, I better not even try.

“Of course. We’ll set something up.” Yet again, I’ve done something to further my connection to the Beckham Family. It’s all starting to feel like one long running coincidence at this point.

I threw the somewhat of a diet that I’m following right out of the window as I sat with a plate filled with the chicken tenders and fries that I wanted so badly. I’d been putting it off to the side, since I was so tapped into the game, but it could and probably will be finished before I leave out of here. Beckham didn’t lie when he spoke about the intensity of the games versus the Eagles and despite being inside of the suite, I could feel the energy of the nearly seventy thousand spectators in attendance. Though I came into this with a plan not to cheer for any team, I couldn’t help but to become a temporary Giants fan as I threw the Beckham jersey over my head and joined in with both Heather and Taylor’s frustration as the Giants went scoreless in first, second, and third quarters.

“Ugh! Come on.” I had to move the plate out of the way. We were already two minutes into the fourth quarter and nothing was on the board. That just about ruined my appetite.

“Come on Eli. Throw something good!”

“We have to score something. Come on Beckham!” All three of us were damn near pressed into the stainless glass windows and aching in anticipation. It was as if the man heard my plea, because within seconds after it, he received a ten-yard catch from Eli Manning and went zipping down the field to give the Giants their first touchdown of the game. The piercing scream that spilled out of my mouth damn near caused me to frighten myself as I jumped up and down with excitement. Now the shit talking could begin. Sure, were still down by seven and we nowhere near any Eagles fans, but still. Shit talking is always fun.

“Alright, we have to tie this. We can do it. That just gave us a bit of momentum.” My loud claps filled the room as I paced back and forth in hopes of a miracle from my chosen team for today.

“We got this. We got this.” Heather’s hands met my shoulders and she gave them an encouraging squeeze as her own excitement ripped through her body. It has to be beyond awesome to have such an explosive player as her kid, but then there’s the pressure. Gosh, I’d be the worst sports mom ever and would need a lifetime supply of aspirin.

“You’re going to be hoarse by the time we get out of here.” Taylor laughed while shaking her head at my antics. A shrug was my response.

“So what! We have to win this thing!”

In less than two minutes later, Eli threw a four-yard pass to Beckham that resulted in yet another touchdown for him. We’d officially tied the game and I just about lost my mind. I could literally feel his energy within the suite as he celebrated his touchdown in the showboating manner that he always does and yet I loved it. In the midst of watching them online, I could understand why people tossed the arrogant title on him and hated his celebration dances. Now, while here, looking at it live, it’s the best shit ever. How can you not celebrate after making the game tying touchdown? Shit, I’m dancing with him.

“Let’s go!”

Eli’s seventy-seven-yard pass to Sterling Shepard to give us a touchdown to take the lead made our suite sound like it was filled with more than just three people as we screamed in thrill. The Eagles tied the game once more and a field goal put us in the lead once again with just a little over two and a half minutes left on the clock. What we all thought would be the game to finally give the Giants a win after being down two games was short lived by two field goals that resulted in the Eagles again tying the game and then finally beating us by three.

I don’t think I’ve felt disappointment like this in quite a while. While the other two women within the room with me took the loss with good hearts and applauded the team for a solid effort and comeback within the fourth quarter, I sat in silence because I felt like we were robbed. We were supposed to win that game. How could we lose after those three touchdowns and that field goal attempt? That’s bullshit.

“It’s alright Sarai. They’ll get a win in when they play in Tampa Bay next week. They gained some momentum today. They just have to apply that same energy every single time.” It sounds good, but I would have liked to win today!

“Yeah, I know.”

“You sound like a kid who lost their little league game. You didn’t even play and you’re sulking more than they are.”

“Because, we could have gotten that one T.” And we should have.

“I know. It was looking good in the fourth. I thought we had it too, but it is what it is. They’ll get them next time. They play the Eagles again this season and we’ll come back to see them have their revenge.” I’m holding Taylor to that. We’re coming back for that game.

“I guess that’s fair.”

“I’m sad that it’s over. I really enjoyed your company ladies. I’m so glad that you came out.” I can admit that I enjoyed myself too. Usually, I’d be curled up on my couch right now, eating dinner, and mentally preparing myself for the week head and instead, I was able to let loose and go crazy over some football. I’d pick that every single time, if I could.

“Thank you for having us. I had a blast. I’m pissed we lost, but I still enjoyed it so much.” It was my turn to draw her in for a hug and I did it with no hesitation.

“And was everything to your liking? My son’s going to want a report.”

“Of course, of course.” We all laughed at how much she emphasized the reality that he absolutely will ask her about how things went today. Well, he has nothing to worry about. He fulfilled his thank you beyond what I could have ever imagined and I’m appreciative of it. He never owed me anything in the first place and after this, he’s more than repaid me. If anything, I owe him.

“I’m sure we’ll be doing this again at some point.”

“I think so too.” Taylor swiftly agreed with her before I could get a word in. Gosh, she better sleep with one eye open when she goes to bed tonight, because I’m going to whack the shit out of her with a pillow as soon as I get an opportunity to do so. She’s been on a roll tonight with the slickness and I’ve let it slide because it’s been jokes in-between she and I, more so coming from her alone, but now she’s involved someone else in it and she’s putting false hopes on the table that I have no capability of fulfilling. This is supposed to be and is going to be a one-time thing.

“Sounds good. Give me another hug before you two get out of here. Also, drive back to Jersey safe. Taylor, text me when you two get there.”

After those hugs, we ended up spending an addition fifteen minutes talking and I’d even exchanged numbers with her so that we could set up that meeting between Jazzy and myself. It would be my thank you to Beckham for the fun filled day here in Philly.

Despite our rush down to my car, the traffic to get out of the stadium wasn’t as beatable as we wished it would have been. We were bumper to bumper for over a half an hour and that continued as we hit the highway to head back to Edgewater.

Phenomenal game, Beckham. Nine receptions, seventy-nine yards, and two touchdowns. You and Shepard balled out. You won in my book. Keep that energy going. I know it feels a bit discouraging to not have gotten a win yet, but you’re only three games in. There’s plenty of time to turn things around and I know that you will. Rest up. And thank you for the invitation. I enjoyed myself.

I know it’s against the law to text and drive, but I’m barely driving. I’m not sure if it’s just general traffic or if there’s some sort of accident further ahead but if God is on my side, he’ll work with my impatience and get things moving along. This is what I didn’t miss about driving.

Thank you, Sarai. I wish I could’ve gotten a chance to see you after the game. I saw the picture you took with momma. You look better than me in that jersey.

I really hate that I blushed. I had to roll my eyes at myself more so than him. Get it the fuck together Sarai.

I doubt that. I’m sure the world will disagree with you as well.

And every single woman that lusts over him and his every move, daily. It’s no secret that he is probably the most sought-after bachelor in the NFL. He’s one of the youngest guys playing and the cherry on top is his lack of children. I’ve heard the chatter, simply because it’s quite hard not to. Even in my field, where he is technically forbidden fruit, he’s still a hot commodity off the field. I’d like to think that aspect of things is why he has so much media attention around him even when he isn’t playing. No one gives a damn about what Eli Manning and Abby McGrew Manning have going on within their home, but the hot, young, and black receiver? They’d much rather stalk him.

My boy Shep has this little bowling alley in the apartment building that he lives in. We’re all going to meet up over there for a bit. You should come through so that I can sign that jersey for you. I texted Taylor about it too.

Immediately, my eyes shifted in Taylor’s direction and her own playfully rolled in the direction of the window as she dropped her phone into her lap.

“Really, Taylor?”

“What? What’s the big deal? It’s a little kickback. O’s cool people. I think you know that at this point.”

“You do realize that you’re taking things a bit too far now?”

“How the hell am I taking things too far when the man has your number, invited you to a football game of his, and is now texting you about coming to hang out? You allowed him into your space, not me. I didn’t push him in your direction.”

“I’m starting to think that you probably told him that I’d be at the Bleacher Report party.”

“And so what if I did? He wanted to meet you, so I told him that you’d be around. I didn’t know what would come of it and I still don’t see what the big deal is now.”

“You know exactly what the big deal is.”

“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?” Despite my tone, she annoyingly batted her eyes while whistling in anticipation for what I would say. I shouldn’t have to say it and I’m not going to, because she already knows. If anyone knows about the boundaries that we shouldn’t be crossing in any capacity, it’s her.

“You can be such an ass.”

“Or you’re arguing with me because deep down, you want to go. We can just stop by.”

“You do realize that I have to be at work first thing tomorrow morning, right?”

“I just said that we can just stop by.”

The internal battle intensified more than I expected it to as I pondered about what would come of this. It’s been quite some time since I’ve surrounded myself with a bunch of testosterones beyond ESPN and I have never in all of the years that I’ve been a sports journalist, deliberately hung out amongst athletes of any sport or circle. Though I’ve been to a ton of events where I’ve mingled among them for the sake of networking and people polite, there have never been instances of privacy or secrecy.

I’ve never been to their homes, their family events outside of charitable ones, or any other possible shindig. I’ve declined many invitations, whether they were extended to me out of flirtation or respect, and Beckham’s should be of no difference and yet here I am contemplating what could possibly be the big deal about it if I do stop by. Taylor’s advice about me needing to live my life always plays in the back of my mind whenever I’m reluctant to extend myself beyond my profession, but tonight shouldn’t be a factor within that. Nothing about him or involving him should be a fucking factor.

“Thirty minutes tops.”

“Fine.” And just like that, I’m taking the plunge. Whatever happens, happens. Actually no. Thirty minutes and all of this is all said and done.

Send me the address.

It took us an extended hour and fifteen minutes longer than the typical driving time to get us back to my place from Philly. Taylor forced me to wait in the car as she changed her footwear from sandals to Vans and minutes later, we were taking the fifteen-minute drive to Weehawken. I didn’t know Sterling lived so close to me. I remember Chanel mentioning something about him living in Hudson County when we were working on a Nike ad campaign together, but the exact city slipped my mind.

“I’m glad that ya’ll could make it out. We just bowling over some wings and non-alcoholic drinks. That game kind of did us all in, so the turn up is super tamed and lame tonight.” I suppose because we’re at his residence, it made sense for Sterling to step outside to greet us and properly direct where I’d be able to park my car.

“Sounds like Sarai’s kind of party.” And with that, I elbowed her in her side.

“Fuck you.”

“Sarai, you’re the turn down queen? I would have never thought. You stay checking the shit out of your co-hosts on that show. Both you and Chad are funny as fuck.” His laughter held an innocence that I’ve always gotten from him ever since he was a Goner at the University of Oklahoma. Sterling’s one of those guys who you can’t help but to cheer for. He has such a genuine spirit and he comes from a great family.

“I’m not the turn down queen. I’m just more on the chill side.”

“I can respect it.” Music blared from the miniature bowling alley as we walked through the lobby and eventually stepped inside, but the scene didn’t contain too many. As I expected, there was Chanel Iman, Sterling’s girlfriend, and two guys that I’m not quite familiar with. No Odell in sight. I guess Sterling was being truthful about the tamed vibe.

“Aw shit. If it isn’t the Most Wanted by Every Ballplaying Nigga number one and number two.” His loudness made his statement funnier than it should have been. It’s not the first time either one us have heard it and it won’t be the last.

“Ignore Ben’s stupid ass. Oh, and O’s coming. He ran upstairs to the crib.”

His introduction was just as amusing as his opening statement and he didn’t let up as he continued to speak about the never-ending lust for the “young thangs” that he described both Taylor and I to be. He introduced his friend as Kav. Chanel, I’ve known for a while now. I dabbling in modeling for the sake of branding, so we’ve crossed paths enough to be acquaintances.

“I left those kicks upstairs on the dining room table for you. Both colorways.” My heart thrashed against my chest cavity as the baritone of his sometimes-raspy voice resounded through my bones. It’s so low and soft, and yet powerful enough to command the attention of everyone in the room as their eyes shifted in his direction. His casual entrance felt like something grandeur as he halted in his steps and locked eyes with me. Staring became our form of communication, as his deep and intoxicating eyes expressed things to me that I don’t want or need to know. Though I couldn’t break the glaring, it was him who decided to do so by washing his eyes over my entire frame. I could have turned into a pillar of dust idly lying in the middle of the floor as Taylor touched my arm and suddenly pulled her hand in response to the endless number of goosebumps trickling along my skin and the lump in my throat? If I suffocate, then fine. At least this moment will cease.

“Sarai Nazaire.” My name flowed from his rosy lips so slickly and yet with a disbelief that I couldn’t quite understand. He invited me here.

“And Taylor Rooks.” Ben immediately interjected. I’m going to assume he’s to Beckham what T is to me.

“I see my homie. What’s up T?”

“Odell! My favorite guy!” Their embrace was first and I was glad of it. It allowed me some time to gain maybe ten percent of the composure I once had when I was sitting in front of my house and debating with myself on whether I should call it a night or not. I haven’t had much of it since then.

“Your favorite guy? O ain’t shit.”

“Never took you to be the jealous type brother.” He and Sterling shared a laugh in the midst of he and T’s embrace and then it was my turn. He hesitated just as much as I did.

“I’m so glad that you made it here. I thought you were going to stand me up.” Despite the extension of my arms, it was his large palms that drew me closer by my waist, and he eventually tightened his body around my own and slightly rocked the both of us from side to side.

“How are you?” I was going to stand him up. I should have stood him up.

“I’m well. You?” 
“Good. Can’t complain.”

“I’m mad that I didn’t see ya’ll at the game. I started to come and sit up there with Heather, but I was with Tweedledee and Tweedledum the whole time. I didn’t even know ya’ll were there.” Chanel’s side eye to Beckham earned my laughter.

“I didn’t know you were there either, but I should have known. You’re always supporting the boo.” As she affectionately wrapped her arms around Sterling’s waist, she nodded to confirm my observation. They’re adorable together. The last guy she dated was Jordan Clarkson and despite their cuteness, I believe Sterling is the one. There’s something about their chemistry that just connects and has bonded into the strongest mold.

“Aye, we have drinks over here. Strawberry Lemonade. And there’s some hot wings, barbecue wings, and some odd flavored mango wing shits that Kav ordered. Ya’ll can help yourselves to it. We started two games. O’s whooping my ass because I’m letting him.”

“Nah, I’m whooping your ass because it’s what I do.”

“Anyway, as I said, I’m letting bleach boy win. We gon’ restart, so that we all can play. Since we’re in an odd number, we won’t do teams. We can all put twenty in for shits and giggles, and because I’m cheap as hell. Winner takes all.”

Though I hadn’t announced it, bowling has always been a side activity of mine. Both of my parents were apart of some neighborhood bowling club or whatever the hell it was back in the day and I’d always be there with them learning their techniques and observing all of the older couples and their decades old love for one another. Even with the warnings to “stay out of grown folks’ business” I was still able to be in the midst of the fun per my dad’s permission because he took me just about everywhere with him. Though slightly rusty, it didn’t stop me from winning a hundred and forty dollars tonight.

“Aye, Sarai and Taylor, let me ask ya’ll some real shit. No judgement. Ya’ll ever dated athletes?” It was Ben’s millionth question of the night and much like all of them, his curiosity always peaked in personal areas.

“One, a few years ago. I haven’t dated another since.” Kendall Marshall. I’m not surprised that she didn’t say his name, though.

“Sarai?”

“None, ever.”

“No one?”

“No.” The rumors are out there, but they’re all false. I’ve just never felt compelled to clear anything up because if I start, I’ll never be able to stop doing so.

“But wouldn’t that be an issue though?” Kav asked the anticipated follow up question.

“I mean, it all depends on the circumstances. If you’re an NFL reporter and you’re dating an NBA player, there isn’t much they can do to you in terms of firing you, though you may be frowned at about it. That’s not a conflict of interest. Some networks are stricter than others when it comes to that. Turner isn’t fond of it. The Bleacher Report doesn’t give a shit about who I involve myself with because they’re a bit more progressive, I suppose.” She half-assed the response which then caused it all to be left up to me to finish up.

“My show covers all major sporting news, mostly within the United States. Our most important coverage is always going to be the NBA and NFL, but it doesn’t mean that we don’t touch base on baseball, tennis, and a few of the others every now and then. So, as far as myself, it’s a conflict of interest no matter which way you look at it.” Yet again, our eyes locked with one another but he didn’t flinch in the manner that I urged for him to. I aimed to set up disappointment and he didn’t bite the bait. If anything, my words flowed into one of his caramel toned ears and right out of the other.

“I think when the heart wants what it wants, none of that other shit matters. It’ll figure itself out. Right?” His tongue lightly ran over his lips in unison with his nonchalant shrug and Chanel bid him a high-five in appreciation for his words. 
“For someone so passionate about the sport that you play, I can’t ever imagine you doing anything to jeopardize your ability to be able to play it.” How or why would he ever? Love is great, but is having it in risky manners ever worth it? That always comes with sacrifice and adjustments that are life altering. Is it really love when you have to let go of so many different aspects of who you are to have it?

“Football is a major part of my life, but it isn’t my life. I’m starting to learn that a lot nowadays. I find myself praying for more time for myself, my family, and my life beyond that field. I’m not going to be playing forever. An empty ass house means that I don’t have much to show for what I worked so hard for. How does all of this even matter if I’m not sharing it? As far as the jeopardize part, I’m willing to fight for and alongside anyone who is going to do the same for me.”

“Why have people in your life that you have to fight for?”

“Because love, no matter which way it comes, isn’t always easy. It’s not supposed to be. I’m going to always fight for those that I love. You’ve never had anyone fight for you?”

He rendered me to speechlessness and a silence discomfort that I may not have masked with my facial expression. I had no answer to give or rather, I didn’t have one that I wanted to give him.

“Alright Sojourner Truth and Martin Luther King, there’s no need to be all deep about this shit. Damn. Ya’ll making me think and it’s too late for all of that.” Ben lightened the moment as Odell stood to his feet and he stepped away from the booth, but halted…for me.

“Sarai. I want to see your new ride before ya’ll go.” How the hell did he know that I was getting ready to throw in the towel and tell Taylor to come on?

“Go and I’ll meet you outside. I’m going to use the bathroom.”

Or she’s creating yet another awkward moment for me.

What was once ninety degree whether nicely calmed down to the high seventies and the cool breeze coming from the Hudson River soothed me as we walked along the exterior of the building. Beckham chose to leave his hands dug into the pockets of his windbreaker style shorts while my eyes panned down and remained focused on his crimson red Nike sneakers.

“Is that it?” I followed his finger and immediately nodded.

“Whew! That thang is on point. And you got the white too? Ain’t nothing like a clean pearly white car. I have to see the guts.” The guts?

It only took one press of a button to unlock the doors and just like that, he was sitting inside on the passenger side taking in the interior like a kid in a candy store. It’s pretty nice but I wasn’t anywhere near as impressed as he is.

“You doing it with this one. Nice pick Sarai.” I scoffed at his modesty. As if he isn’t the one who chose it.

“Shouldn’t you be complimenting yourself?”

“Not really. I gave you the advice, but I never picked out the specifics. This is better than I envisioned it, honestly. I figured you’d go for black or blue.” Black was the original choice until I saw the white one. It stood amongst all of the choices of its kind.

“It is pretty cool, huh?” As I slipped in on the driver’s side, I gave the car a start so that he’d be able to see the beauty of the interior illuminating in its nighttime mode.

“For sure. You look good in here. This fits you well.” For just that moment, he stared at the side of my head while I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel in an anxiousness for Taylor’s presence. Like the most dominant magnet, his aura drew my glare to him.

I’d always believed that perfection doesn’t exist, especially within men, and grandma Lèilin would immediately beg to differ. She informed me that there comes a time when a woman does lay her eyes on a man who is perfect for her in every single sense, flaws and all. He’ll be the most beautiful man she’s laid her eyes on. Grandpa Lesly was that for her.

I’ve never been so at a loss for words until being within this man’s presence. The symmetry of his face is sculpted to an unfair perfection and it impeccably compliments his narrow eyes. There’s no wild bushiness to his eyebrows; they’re tamed and follow the arches of his smiles and frowns. His nose is not too small and yet not too vast. It’s literally made to fit his face. His lips. Dear God. Small and yet supple. A perfect hue of rose. The full beard oozes confident masculinity and yet the bright platinum blonde mane of curls on top of head has this playful and unique sexiness that’s solely for him alone, no matter how many people try to replicate it. He’s beyond handsome; beautiful is more like it. I can see what makes them all go crazy, whether female or male. I understand why all eyes are on him. I’m drowning in the intrigue and yet seeking a lifeboat to get me the hell out of here.

“Eh. It’s a car.” That’s really all it is.

“I’m ready.” The sound of her dragging out the last word startled the both of us as she approached the passenger side and she playfully shooed the man out of my passenger seat and slipped inside after a brief hug with him.

“We enjoyed it O. Thanks for the invite.”

“It ain’t nothing. I’m just glad ya’ll came.”

“We’ll do it again for sure. I’ll catch up with you soon.” Their fists bumped and she closed the door behind herself. I figured that would have been the goodbye necessary for me to drive off into the night and yet his boldness continued as he stepped around to the driver’s side of the car and opened my door.

“Step out for a minute.”

“Why?”

“Just for one minute.” He awaited my hand to latch onto his own and it did within a couple of seconds. As soon as I was secured on my feet, he immediately drew me in for a tight hug and a soft kiss to the forehead.

“Thank you so much Sarai.”

“You’re welcome, Beckham.” The deep chuckle that rattled from his frame weakened mine.

“Am I always going to be Beckham? If you like the last name, I’m willing to share it.” And with that I drew away from him and lightheartedly mushed him out of the way. We’re not going there. Not now or ever, though I’m well aware that it’s a joke.

“Turn around. I have to sign your jersey.”

I did as he asked and stood still as he moved his marker from number to number along the back of it.

“What does it say?”  

“Read it when you get home.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight Sarai Nazaire.”

“What is it with you and the saying my whole name thing?”

“It’s sexy, very sexy.”

“Flirting comes natural to you, I see.”

“I’m not flirting. Flirting is filled with jokes. I’ve yet to joke with you.”

I slipped inside of the car to avoid the urge to look into his eyes once more. Closing the door create the barrier that I so badly needed. Yet again, my heart was thrashing against my chest and if I don’t get the hell away from him, I don’t think I’ll be good to drive us anywhere.

“Hit me when ya’ll get in so I’ll know you made it safe. No speeding Sarai.”

“We’ll text you.” Taylor answered for me as she messed with the radio to find a station of her liking. As I pulled away from the parking space, he stood there and watched. In my rearview window, I could see a final wave from him before he turned to walk away.

I couldn’t be bothered with my nightly shower as I began stripping out of everything covering my body. I’ll need it in the morning when I’m dragging out of bed to prepare for work. It’ll also work with the strong ass cup of coffee I’m certainly going to need.

“Goodnight!”

“Night!” Though I closed the door minutes ago, I’m sure she heard me.

As I tossed everything into the dirty clothing basket near my closet, I decided to take a peek at the signature on the back of the jersey. With the way he moved the marker, there had to be more than just his first and last name back there.

“Sarai Nazaire. There aren’t enough words to describe how thankful I am for you. Thank you for everything that you are and all that you do. You Are The Prototype.” And along the bottom was his notorious signature.

Rather than tossing it inside of the basket, I put it on a hanger and hung it up inside of the closet. My next move was to grab my phone.

Goodnight Beckham.

That’s enough for him to know that we made it in safely.

Goodnight Sarai Nazaire.

Sleep is the last thing that I’ll be able to do tonight. Whether my eyes are open or closed, all that I can see is him.  

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Ships: Snowing, Rumbelle, Swan Believer, eventual Swanfire, and a delightful Golden Mad Charming BroT3. :)

Dreaming Out Loud

Chapter 9: Injustice

David stirred early the next morning, just before dawn. No matter what the circumstances, he was always going to be an early riser. He looked down and smiled at the sight of Mary cuddled against him. He dropped a kiss on her raven haired head and she made the sweetest sound, the same sound she always made when he used to kiss her awake in the mornings. She stirred and lifted her head, smiling shyly at him.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning beautiful,” he replied, as they got up and gently untangled from each other.

“I guess we fell asleep,” she mentioned.

“Yeah...Emma must have covered us with a blanket,” he guessed.

“It’s early...I think I’ll make breakfast,” she said, as she kissed him quickly. He smiled and Wilby whined at the door.

“I’m going to take Wilby out and then I’ll be back,” he called. She smiled and watched him go with a dreamy smile on her face.

While Wilby did his business outside by the tree, David picked up a copy of the Storybrooke Mirror that rested on the stoop. Damon’s picture was on the front and it seemed Sidney Glass had wasted no time exploiting the story to make headlines. He clutched the paper, as he read the story. It mentioned Damon’s attack on Mary, but almost made it seem like Mary’s frequent rebuking had instigated it. The reporter didn’t come right out and say it, but he could read between the lines. The reporter was implying Mary was to blame for the whole thing, no doubt at Regina’s request. He didn’t want Mary reading this trash, but he knew if she didn’t see it now, she’d find out later that day and it might be worse. He rolled up the paper and followed Wilby back up the stairs to Mary’s apartment. By that time, Emma was up, nursing a cup of coffee and not looking awake yet. He allowed himself a small smile. Emma was not a morning person. Mary was making eggs and he quietly slipped the paper down next to his daughter.

“Let me guess, Glass wrote some biased crap,” Emma muttered.

“Yeah...any idea who he might be?” David whispered. Emma turned the paper over and pointed to his picture on the back. David examined the face and knew he looked familiar.

“Any idea?” she asked.

“He looks familiar...I’m just not sure I can place him,” he replied.

“I’ll ask Henry...he has most of this figured out,” she said. He smiled at the mention of his grandson. He couldn’t wait to get to know the boy more.

Mary set plates down at the table with eggs and bacon.

“Thanks Mare...smells great,” Emma said, as they sat down.

“Is that the morning paper?” she asked.

“Uh...yeah, but you know same old crap,” the blonde replied.

“Yeah, nothing interesting,” David added. She cocked her head to the side, looking between them both.

“I appreciate you both trying to protect me, but I’ve lived in this town a long time. Whatever story Sidney Glass spun is sure to put Damon in a better light than me,” she said, kind of enjoying their surprised looks.

It was curious, as their mouths both hung open and she found amusing that they both looked almost exactly alike in that moment. She smirked and sat down, as she took the paper and read the article. She started biting her lip about half way through it and then looked up at their expectant faces.

“It’s not as bad as I thought. Damon can get away with a lot. He may own a sleazy club, but he’s on the City Council and pours a lot of money into this town,” she reasoned.

“I don’t care who the hell he is. He’s not getting away with what he did to you,” Emma said.

“She’s right...he’s in jail and he’s not getting out,” David agreed. Mary smiled thinly. She loved them both, but she was preparing herself for the reality that Damon would probably be walking free by lunchtime.

~*~

After breakfast, David kissed Mary goodbye for the day, promising to see her after work. He returned to Jefferson’s, endured his ribbing about not coming home, while he fed Wilby, and then hurried upstairs for a quick shower.

“So last night…” Jefferson prompted, as David poured some coffee in the travel mug Jefferson had given him.

“It’s not what you think. I just fell asleep on her couch,” he said.

“Too bad…” Jefferson commented.

“She went through a lot last night. That bastard attacked her and she’s convinced he’ll be walking free soon,” David said angrily.

“I hate it, but she’s probably right. The District Attorney will probably decide to drop the case and Regina will back him,” Jefferson warned.

“District Attorney?” David asked.

“He’s a lawyer and decides what cases to charge and which ones not to. Now in a normal town, there’s no question. They’d take this seriously that a teacher was attacked in her own classroom. But this is Storybrooke and it’s run by Regina and her cronies,” Jefferson tried to explain.

“Is this District Attorney anyone I know?” he asked. Jefferson sighed.

“Here he goes by Albert Spencer,” he replied.

“And back in our land?” David asked impatiently. Jefferson stared at him wearily.

“Just tell me,” David pleaded.

“King George,” Jefferson revealed. David clenched his fists and his blue eyes turned to ice.

“Tell me you’re joking,” he said.

“Believe me...I wish I was. This is the reality of the curse. Villains have wealth and power here. And heroes...they’re miserable and have had what they love most taken away,” he said solemnly and David knew the other man was talking about his child.

“This happiness you’ve brought to Mary...the Queen won’t let it stand. She’ll make her pay,” he warned.

“Like hell...I’ll fight her. I don’t care about her power. Emma and I will fight her...and Emma, she’s the Savior. She’ll win,” David refuted.

“Believe me...I hope you’re right. It’s just hard to keep hope in a place like this. At least no one else remembers why they’re miserable. That’s almost better, I think,” he mentioned.

“Regina’s not going to win...Emma will,” he assured, as he stood at the door.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, as he headed off to the animal shelter with Wilby in tow. He just hoped Emma would keep him in the loop of what was going on at the station.

~*~

Persephone and Ariel arrived on the deserted shores of Storybrooke, Maine. She gazed at the town both with trepidation and anxiousness. To finally gaze upon her daughter in person, face to face, brought a myriad of emotions for the embattled Goddess. But more so, she wondered how Snow would react once her memories were returned and she learned the truth. She imagined it would take her daughter time to come around to her or perhaps she would understand, being that she herself was forced to give her daughter up. Emma might have reacted much to the same to Snow and Charming, but thankfully since she stepped in and had the dreamscape created for them, Emma was far more prepared to accept her destiny. She would embrace her parents with open arms when their memories were restored and she only hoped for much the same from Snow.

She recalled the days of watching her daughter from afar and her struggles to survive against the Queen’s wrath. She remembered practically begging Morpheus to help and the dreamscape had been the result. Being here now brought it all rushing back…

~*~

The years continued to pass and the hardship for Snow did not lessen. But her daughter grew from a typical royal into a fierce warrior, bandit princess of the likes which none had seen. She was extraordinary and Persephone marveled at all of it.

Persephone had the great pleasure and heartache of watching Snow find her true love in the shepherd, now turned prince. She watched them find each other and lose each other constantly in their war to stay alive against Queen Regina and the vengeful King George.

She rejoiced when her daughter’s true love awoke her from the sleeping curse and they were married before all. But that’s when her joy faded. Queen Regina’s declaration that she would cast the Dark Curse, the darkest piece of magic in all the lands, nearly sent Persephone into a panic.

If her daughter was sent to the Land Without Magic, Persephone would not be able to see her anymore or look after her. That’s when she implored her Mother to help protect Snow and her family. That had led them back to Morpheus’ Temple, just as Queen Regina crushed her own father’s heart.

Persephone watched her daughter cry out in pain, as she gave birth to her own daughter. Her own child that would be ripped from her as well.

“Please Morpheus...there must be something you can do!” Persephone pleaded.

“You know I cannot stop the Dark Curse. Not even Zeus can do that,” he chided.

“I know...but if they are in the Land Without Magic, my ability to see them will be even more limited! There must be something we can do! There must!” she pleaded. He sighed.

“There is the option of a dream world,” Demeter suggested. He looked at her incredulously.

“You want me to create a dreamscape for Snow White and her family? Do you know how many rules that breaks?” he hissed. Demeter rolled her eyes.

“I’ll never understand your preoccupation with duty and rules. Hell, Zeus himself has broken every single one of his own rules! You can do this! Emma can know her parents, if only in her dreams,” Demeter pleaded.

“This is highly unorthodox,” he lamented.

“Emma’s life will be hard. Being the Savior doesn’t mean she should have to endure all this on her own. If she has Snow and Charming to guide her, think about the positive effect it will have. The Dark Curse must be undone by her. Why not give her every weapon we can!” Demeter reasoned. Morpheus sighed.

“I will grant this, if for no other reason, than the Dark Curse is an abomination and I guess good could use a little extra help this time,” he said. Demeter smirked.

“And you like Snow,” the goddess mused, as she watched Morpheus’ dust sweep over Snow, Charming, and Emma, just before the chaos ensued.

Persephone could only watch, helpless, as Charming put his daughter in the wardrobe, only to be cut down seconds later. She feared for her daughter’s true love, but Mother ensured that his lifeline would not be cut on this night. It cut her deeply to watch Snow sob over her beloved, fearing that she had lost him forever and raged as the Evil Queen got what she wanted.

She sunk to her knees as the entire Kingdom disappeared, ripped away to a Land Without Magic to lives where she had no idea if they would be safe.

“It will be all right, darling. Emma is the Savior, she will break the curse. And when the final battle begins, you can finally reveal yourself to Snow,” Demeter said.

“How can you be sure?” Persephone asked.

“Athena has foreseen it. Emma may save her parents and her Kingdom. But Snow will save you from Hades’ trappings,” Demeter assured.

“There may be a complication,” Artemis said, as she appeared.

“What is it?” Persephone implored.

“Deimos...he was swept up in the curse,” she revealed. Demeter clenched her teeth.

“Hades…” she hissed.

“Oh Gods...then he knows. He’s found out who my daughter is! How did he find out?” Persephone cried, as Artemis put a hand on her shoulder.

“How...I do not know. He may have, but Hades cannot interfere anymore in this land than we can. In this place, all but Regina do not know who they are anymore. No doubt that Deimos is still a horrid being, but I have hope that without his memories, Snow will be safe,” Artemis assured.

“Safe? She’s cursed! She’s lost her daughter and her husband! My granddaughter is alone, because Cora was jealous of how beloved my Snow is and molded Regina into her image. If Cora had been able to manage it, she would have taken my daughter’s Throne for herself!” Persephone raged.

“If not for Eva telling her secret, she would have done just that,” Demeter commented.

Persephone snorted.

“I don’t blame Eva one bit. Cora is evil to her very core. I swear...when someone finally sends her to the Underworld, I will make sure it is not pleasant for her,” Persephone growled.

“Vengeance is not your way, darling,” Demeter soothed.

“Maybe not...but I will see that woman gets what she deserves. She has destroyed her own daughter’s life and has tried to destroy my daughter’s as well. It will not go unpunished,” Persephone stated. And Demeter couldn’t disagree. Persephone sighed.

Twenty eight years...that was usually a drop in the bucket for a God. But for Persephone, it would truly be an eternity…

~*~

And it had seemed like an eternity. Not being able to gaze upon her little snowdrop had been soul crushing, particularly during her allotted time in the Underworld. Seeing her daughter, even though her viewing pond, had been her only respite when in Hades clutches. Shortly before the curse, Hades had fallen for a wicked witch from the land of Oz. It had given hope that perhaps Hades would release her from her bindings to him. Unfortunately for her, the witch had ultimately rejected Hades and he had returned even more harsh and cold than before. His indifference changed to interest in her again, much to her chagrin. He had regained a firmer hand on her and demanded she perform her wifely duties. She refused every time, but that did not stop him. He forced her to do what he wanted and took from her what she had never given to him, much like he had in the beginning. To be free of him was liberating. She knew he would be furious, but with no access to the Land Without Magic, she was out of his reach for now.

“This is a strange land. Do you know where we should go?” Ariel asked.

“Fortunately, I have done my research on this land and had enough sense to conjure some useable currency. We’ll start by finding an inn and getting a couple of rooms,” Persephone said.

~*~

“I can’t believe this! You can’t let this happen!” Emma screamed, as she followed him into his office and slammed the door shut. Damon Tromera was no doubt smirking smugly in his cell, for he knew he would be free soon.

“It’s out of my hands, Emma,” Graham said regrettably.

“That’s bull! He attacked Mary Margaret! He’s stalking her! This is her life we’re talking about!” Emma yelled.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped back and she recoiled slightly. He took a deep breath.

“My hands are tied. The district attorney has dropped the charges and the Mayor has ordered his release,” he said.

“You know this is wrong. We have Mary Margaret’s statement! And David’s!” Emma replied.

“And since David stopped the attack before anything physical happened, it’s a case of he said she said,” he said regrettably.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Emma exploded.

“I’m sorry Emma, you know I am,” he pleaded.

“So...because Damon didn’t get the chance to hit her, there’s suddenly no case?” she exclaimed.

“Basically. And if I press to charge Damon on assaulting David, then I’ll have to arrest David for assault as well since they were both fighting,” Graham replied.

“This is crap! What happens if he gets Mary alone again? What if he beats her or God forbid rapes her?! What then? I suppose it will be her fault then too!” Emma screamed.

“Dammit Emma...you know I hate this as much as you do!” he retorted.

“Really? You hate it so much, but not when it comes to sleeping with the enemy, right?!” she blurted out.

“That’s not fair,” he growled. She glowered at him.

“No...what’s not fair is that my mo...best friend,” she said, catching herself.

“My best friend has to look over her shoulder every minute of her day, because this town’s leadership is so corrupt that they will protect a piece of trash like Damon Tromera over the sweetest person I’ve ever met!” Emma said, completely losing her temper.

“I’ve already drawn up a restraining order for Mary,” he tried to soothe, but Emma only snorted.

“Oh yeah...cause a restraining order is really going to stop a guy like that,” Emma said, as she grabbed her keys.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To the source of all this,” she retorted. He sighed and followed her out.

“My, my deputy...such a fiery temper, though I’ll admit I find that attractive in a woman,” Damon goaded. Emma approached the bars, glaring murderously at him.

“I’m going to say this once, you piece of shit. You stay the hell away from Mary Margaret,” she growled. But he only smirked smugly, as she stormed out.

“Well Sheriff...I believe there is no need to keep me in here any longer,” Damon said. Graham glared at him.

“The papers haven’t arrived yet so you’ll stay in there until they do,” Graham refuted. But the smug bastard just smirked again. He would be walking free soon enough.

~*~

David went into Gold’s pawn shop through the back entrance with Wilby that afternoon. They thought it best for both him and Jefferson to use the concealed entrance, since it was clear that Regina might be watching all of them.

“Hello David,” Belle greeted, as she worked on cataloging some of the miscellaneous items they had in the back.

“Belle...it’s good to see you,” he said, as Wilby went right up to the woman, who grinned.

“Well hello to you too,” she said, as she knelt down to pet the dog.

“And Wilby says hello too,” David said.

“Oh he’s gorgeous. Mr. Gold mentioned you adopted a dog,” she said.

“Yeah...Wilby and I just clicked. I see you’re staying busy,” he mentioned.

“I am and I’ll soon be even busier. I haven’t told anyone yet, but Mr. Gold gave me the most wonderful gift this morning,” she gushed. He smiled.

“Well...don’t keep me in suspense,” he prompted.

“Well...as you know, I don’t really have any memories, but I do know that I love books. When I asked him a couple days ago if the town had a library, he said it had been closed for years,” he said sadly.

“I dropped the subject, figuring that maybe the high school would let me check out some books, but they had the sorriest book collection I’d ever seen! I mean, what kind of school doesn’t have decent books?” she rattled on. He smiled.

“Probably one where the students never move on and learn anything anyway,” he thought silently. He still couldn’t figure out how this town was Regina’s happy ending, other than her daily goal of making Mary Margaret’s life hell. How she could be happy making people miserable was beyond him.

“Well...I’m pretty new at all this stuff too. I have some memories of who I am, but we’re kind in the same boat in a way. I’m pretty clueless when it comes to how this world works, but Emma did tell me about this thing called the Internet. She said you can get anything from there. Maybe they have books,” he suggested. She smirked.

“Perhaps...but I might not need to, because Mr. Gold gave me these this morning,” she said.

“Keys?” he asked.

“To the library! He bought me the library! Can you believe it?” she exclaimed. He chuckled.

“That’s quite a gesture. Congratulations...I think you’ll make an excellent librarian,” he said.

“Thanks. I have a lot of work to do. The place is a dusty mess, but somehow Mr. Gold got Regina to give me a budget and everything, so I’ll have to try this Internet thing and order more books,” she replied.

“Well...let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” he said.

“There might be something,” she replied.

“Name it,” he said.

“Well, the state of the high school library got me thinking. I bet the elementary school’s library is just as pitiful. I was wondering maybe if you’d talk to Mary Margaret. Reading is so important, especially at the age of her students. Do you think she’d be up for bringing them on a field trip to the library when it opens?” Belle asked. He grinned.

“I can’t speak for her, but I have a feeling she’ll love the idea. I’ll tell her about it,” he said.

“Thanks David. If you’re looking for Mr. Gold, he and Mr. Jefferson are in the front of the shop,” she said.

“Thanks. Good luck with the library,” he called, as he headed to the front of the shop.

~*~

Emma stormed into Regina’s office and slammed the door behind her.

“Miss Swan...I know you have no tact, but at least knock before you barge into my office,” Regina snapped. But Emma ignored her.

“Why the hell would you order Damon Tromera’s release after what he did?” Emma shouted. Regina gave her a cool stare.

“Because that whole altercation was a simple misunderstanding,” Regina replied.

“Misunderstanding? You can’t be serious! He attacked Mary Margaret!” Emma exclaimed.

“So she says,” Regina retorted.

“He would have done God knows what to her if David hadn’t gotten there when he did. And this then trashy article all but implies that Mary Margaret was asking for it!” Emma screamed, as she tossed the paper down on the desk.

“Maybe she was,” Regina leered.

“I don’t believe you! As a woman, how could you defend a would be rapist?! Does your hatred for Mary Margaret go so deep that you actually wish for something like that to happen to her? To the sweetest person I’ve ever met?” Emma demanded to know.

“Mary Margaret is anything but sweet and innocent. Don’t let her little act fool you. Anything bad that happens to her, I assure you, she deserves it,” Regina snapped. Emma looked at her in disbelief.

“How the hell did you get like this?” Emma asked, though she knew the story her parents had told her. Still...it was hard to believe this woman had ever been the kind, gentle woman that her mother described when she first met Regina.

“I’m very busy, Miss Swan, so kindly get out,” Regina snapped. Emma glared at her.

“I don’t know how yet, but if Damon Tromera comes near Mary Margaret again or David for that matter, I’ll find a way to make the charges stick,” Emma promised.

“Why do you care about those two idiots so much, Miss Swan?” Regina questioned suspiciously.

“They’re my friends,” Emma said automatically. But Regina wasn’t letting that pass as an answer this time. There was more here and she wanted to know what it was. Fortunately, Sidney was busy digging through Emma Swan’s past.

“If you ask me, Miss Blanchard has brought this on herself. For years, she rejected Mr. Tromera and then immediately jumps in bed with a coma patient. No one can blame him for feeling slighted,” Regina reasoned.

“I don’t care if he’s slighted or insulted! He better never try to put his hands on her again!” Emma shot back.

“If you’re quite done, Miss Swan. I have a lot of work to do. Get out and while you’re at it, stay away from my son. Don’t think I don’t know about your “secret meetings” at his castle,” she snapped. Emma snorted.

“Figures you’d have your lapdog reporter following me,” Emma commented.

“He is my son, Miss Swan,” Regina snapped.

“You know, the tighter your grip on him, the faster he’ll slip through your grasp,” Emma warned, as she left without another word. Regina slammed her pen down and picked up the phone.

“What did you find?” she demanded to know.

“I just finished going through everything I could find. I’m not a hacker though. I can’t get the sealed records from social services,” Sidney reported. Perhaps she needed to employ another avenue with this. She needed those records unsealed.

“Fine...I need to get rid of this woman and those two idiots,” she muttered, as she slammed the receiver down.

“I need to know all your secrets, Emma Swan,” she hissed, as she felt a shudder in the ground beneath her that seemed to reverberate through the whole town. Emma Swan’s secrets would have to wait.

“What the hell was that…” she uttered, as she picked up the phone.

“Sheriff…” Graham answered.

“Did you feel that shudder?” she asked, as another one rumbled through the ground.

“Yes...I’m heading out to check it out now,” Graham replied. Regina hung up the phone and gazed pensively out the window. She had lost control so quickly and it made her wonder if she had ever really had control at all. This was Rumpelstiltskin’s curse, after all. He had planned this. He had never intended to let her win and was content to let her be made a fool of. She angrily threw a glass and shattered the mirror on the wall.

“This won’t stand. I’ll make you pay too, Rumpelstiltskin,” she growled, as an idea formed in her mind and she smirked evilly. It would have to wait for now, but that would just make it that much sweeter when she enacted her revenge...

[northernmisery-blog]

Celebrate the right thing.

Garry Monk, Pep Clotet and James Beattie have done something that I genuinely never expected and that is give us a football team and club to be proud of. We’ve been in the news for all the right reasons. Our main blip coincided with a certain Italian gobshite sticking his unwelcomed face out of Terry Georges rat hole and moaning about the FA being mean to him, enforcing arbitration under the “Rule K” to try and get his well deserved ban overturned, I’m not going into that in detail here, that we should even still be talking about this is infuriating. I will say one thing - He broke the rules. He knows he broke the rules. The FA knows he broke the rules, but, as a man of marked criminal tendencies is prone to do, he doesn’t think the rules should apply to him and he’s going to waste more of the clubs time and money (what is the figure at now? Must be pushing £14million he’s spunked up the wall in pointless, unwinnable court cases and lawyers fees). Anyway, back to the coaching staff. Who would have thought we’d be here now? This is a club who appointed Dave Hockaday as manager, after all. This is a club who courted Karl Robinson as manager in the summer after deciding that Steve Evans wasn’t the right man for the job (something Stevie Wonder could see was painfully obvious). Garry Monk and his staff have done nothing shy of a miracle here at Leeds. They’ve taken what is essentially the Raggy Dolls out of the reject bin and turned them into something resembling a bloody good football team. Even the lamentable oaf Doukara, one of the final remnants of the heinous sicknote shits has managed to vaguely fulfil his contractual obligations as a professional footballer. Robert Green has been a revelation, giving us, in my opinion, the best all round goal keeper since Paul Robinson.  Poppadom wrists Spilvestri, the man who drew on his back with a lipstick to get out of playing, backing away from crosses like Dracula seems a distant memory. Our Swiss Pyscho Berardi stepping in for the injured Taylor. Ayling being a revelation. Pontus and Bartley, giving us centre half pairing that would make even a hardnut centreforward think twice before befouling himself and running away in the opposite direction. Wood smashing the ball into the net like his life depended on it. Every player, from the back to the front, working in perfect unison, no player bigger than the team (as proved by Monk dropping Pontus at the weekend), the sum of its parts, loanees and forgotten men, working together for a greater good. It’s been great. And our fans have loved every minute of it. The crowds have increased again, the feel good factor sweeping through the fanbase like a contagion. The noise and atmosphere at games spurring the players onwards. Here we are, 8 games to go until the end of the season.  Sitting comfortably in the playoff positions, over achieving way beyond my pre-season expectations of a 15th place (+/- 2 positions) finish. We have a very real chance of stealing that second place, nicking automatic promotion and giving the Premier League an injection of pure Vitamin Leeds. So, I really didn’t want to have to write about Massimo Cellino again. Truly, I really didn’t. This season, his forced silence in the media (thanks to the PR savvy Andrea Radrizzani firmly ramming some suave Italian socks into his gullet) and lack of interference in first team affairs have been a welcome respite to the pure unadulterated chaos and utter embarrassment he’s forced on our club during his tenure. Yet, I have to bring up his name again. Not just to re-iterate that he’s still a proven fraudster, convicted of false accounting at a football club and a man of marked criminal tendencies who in my opinion should be no more allowed to run a football club than Karen Matthews should be asked to be the face of the World Hide and Seek championships. No, I have to bring up his name because once again, across the moronic halfwitted ramblings of special groups on Facebook and Twitter, some people continue to spew the rhetoric that Massimo Cellino deserves credit for some of this, ending their babbling tweets with such punchy final words as “FACT!”. You’ve seen them, the sort of Tweets that make Sean Spicer sit up and take notice of how to condense utter bullshit into such a limited number of characters. An appalling lack of grammar, punctuation and basic spelling comprehension normally accompanies such “facts”, interspersed on their timeline with retweets of such sterling accounts as the English Defence League, Tommy Robinson and endorsements of Katie Hopkins and her hate filled propaganda. Their timelines a torrent of (sometimes not so) thinly veiled racism and xenophobia, they try and tell you that Massimo Cellino has saved our club. That this resurgence is somehow to be attributed to him and him alone. Why, it must be Massimo Cellino who has got the tune out the broken instrument. It must be Massimo Cellino who is the Championships top goal scorer. It must be Massimo Cellino who palms those shots around the goalposts in the 90th minute, or punts an opposition winger into the fourth row with a crunching tackle. It must be Massimo Cellino who is singing so loudly in London that they can hear it on the other side of the Thames on a cold Tuesday night. Except it’s not. Imagine suggesting that he deserves credit for NOT sacking Garry Monk six games in like he has done to countless managers in the past. I have said all along that any success would be DESPITE Massimo Cellino, not BECAUSE of him. That is a fact, backed up by evidence. Provable on an etch-a-sketch. It defies logic to support a football club, to support a team of players, to go with your mates and raucously cheer on the players on the pitch only to turn round and celebrate a proven criminal as the cause of such joy. Imagine celebrating a criminal. The people that do so are the sort of people who would write, (in pigeon English) to a serial killer in prison;  “Dear Rose, please send me some of your used scuds so I can smell what Fred smelled. PS – I love Massimo, Fill Hay is the Devil” Cellino will eventually (and hopefully soon) slink off, crawling away on his belly like the loathsome crooked slug that he is, onto the next club where he can divide the fanbase, pillage their assets and continue to fund his lifestyle, sucking the life out of another institution like a vampire. We can celebrate all we want, we can all rejoice when we hopefully reach the Premier League and call ourselves united again, but it’s absolutely ludicrous, preposterous in the extreme to still claim Massimo Cellino deserves anything other than the utmost disdain for everything he’s done to our club. And if you think he is more deserving of credit than Garry Monk, his coaching staff, the players, or the long suffering fans who finally have something to celebrate again, you should follow your idol to his next club, latch yourself onto whatever set of fans follow that club and try to become “the biggest fan account on Twitter”, begging local journalists to retweet your inane causes or defend you when people have rightfully taken the piss out of you for your idiotic behaviour.  You can bitch and cry that you’re not being taken seriously and moan about a mean competition where you get called a playground name. One thing you won’t be is here, latching yourself onto a progressing and awakening giant. Like the crook who deserves no credit, you’ll no longer be the source of division and arguments among our fanbase.  You’ll be a forgotten memory, buried in the past like the murdered sailors on board Massimo’s ship “Lucina” So celebrate Garry Monk. Celebrate Pep Clotet , James Beattie and all the coaching staff. Celebrate the players, even the useless ones that have been stealing a wage for years or refused to play for our club. Celebrate Elland Road roaring again. Celebrate Dirty Leeds being an enjoyment.  Enjoy the debate about what walkout music we should have and where Lewis Cook would be playing were it not for a lying charlatan selling him. Don’t celebrate a crook. Ever. Unless you’re a fucking div and you’re intent on showing your true colours. Again.