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timeless-hollywood-classics · 4 years ago

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Ruth Etting (November 23, 1896 – September 24, 1978) was an American singing star, vaudevillian and actress of the 1920s and 1930s, who had over 60 hit recordings and worked in stage, radio, and film. Known as "America's sweetheart of song", her signature tunes were "Shine On, Harvest Moon", "Ten Cents a Dance" and "Love Me or Leave Me".

Her other popular recordings included "Button Up Your Overcoat", "Mean to Me", "Exactly Like You" and "Shaking the Blues Away".

As a young girl in Nebraska, Etting had wanted to be an artist; she drew and sketched everywhere she was able. At sixteen, her grandparents decided to send her to art school in Chicago. While Etting attended class, she found a job at the Marigold Gardens nightclub; after a short time there, Etting gave up art classes in favor of a career in show business. Etting, who enjoyed singing in school and church, never took voice lessons. She quickly became a featured vocalist at the club. Etting was then managed by Moe Snyder, whom she married in 1922. Snyder made arrangements for Etting's recording and film contracts as well as her personal and radio appearances. She became nationally known when she appeared in Flo Ziegfeld's Follies of 1927.

Etting intended to retire from performing in 1935, but this did not happen until after her divorce from Snyder in 1937. Harry Myrl Alderman, Etting's pianist, was separated from his wife when he and Etting began a relationship. Snyder did not like seeing his former wife in the company of other men and began making telephone threats to Etting in January 1938. By October, Snyder traveled to Los Angeles and detained Alderman after he left a local radio station; he forced the pianist to take him to the home of his ex-wife at gunpoint. Saying he intended to kill Etting, Alderman, and his own daughter, Edith, who worked for Etting, Snyder shot Alderman. Three days after Alderman was shot, his wife filed suit against Etting for alienation of affections.

While Alderman and Etting claimed to have been married in Mexico in July 1938, Alderman's divorce would not be final until December of that year. The couple was married during Moe Snyder's trial for attempted murder in December 1938. Etting and Alderman relocated to a farm outside of Colorado Springs, Colorado, where they were primarily out of the spotlight for most of their lives. Her fictionalized story was told in the 1955 musical film Love Me Or Leave Me with Doris Day as Ruth Etting and James Cagney as Snyder.

Etting was born on November 23, 1896, in David City, Nebraska, to Alfred Etting, a banker, and Winifred (Kleinhan). Her mother died when she was five years old and she then went to live with her paternal grandparents, George and Hannah Etting. Her father remarried and moved away from David City and was no longer a part of his daughter's life. Etting's grandfather, George, owned the Etting Roller Mills; to the delight of his granddaughter, George Etting allowed traveling circuses and shows to use the lot behind the mills for performances.

Etting was interested in drawing at an early age; she drew and sketched anywhere she was able. Her grandparents were asked to buy the textbooks she had used at the end of a school term because Etting had filled them with her drawings. She left David City at the age of sixteen to attend art school in Chicago. Etting got a job designing costumes at the Marigold Gardens nightclub, which led to employment singing and dancing in the chorus there. She gave up art school soon after going to work at Marigold Gardens. Before turning exclusively to performing, Etting worked as a designer for the owner of a costume shop in Chicago's Loop; she was successful enough to earn a partnership in the shop through her work.

While she enjoyed singing at school and in church, Etting never took voice lessons. She said that she had patterned her song styling after Marion Harris, but created her own unique style by alternating tempos and by varying some notes and phrases. Describing herself as a "high, squeaky soprano" during her days in David City, Etting developed a lower range singing voice after her arrival in Chicago which led to her success. Her big moment came when a featured vocalist suddenly became ill and was unable to perform. With no other replacement available, Etting was asked to fill in. She quickly changed into the costume and scanned the music arrangements; the performer was male, so Etting tried to adjust by singing in a lower register. She became a featured vocalist at the nightclub.

Etting described herself as a young, naive girl when she arrived in Chicago. Due to her inexperience in the ways of the big city, she became reliant on Snyder after their meeting. Etting met gangster Martin "Moe the Gimp" Snyder in 1922, when she was performing at the Marigold Gardens. Snyder, who divorced his first wife to marry Etting, was well-acquainted with Chicago's nightclubs and the entertainers who worked in them; he once served as a bodyguard to Al Jolson. Snyder also used his political connections to get bookings for Etting, who was called "Miss City Hall" because of Snyder's influence in Chicago. Etting married Snyder on July 17, 1922 in Crown Point, Indiana. She later said she married him "nine-tenths out of fear and one-tenth out of pity." Etting later told her friends, "If I leave him, he'll kill me." He managed her career, booking radio appearances and eventually had her signed to an exclusive recording contract with Columbia Records.

The couple moved to New York in 1927, where Etting made her Broadway debut in the Ziegfeld Follies of 1927. Irving Berlin had recommended her to showman Florenz Ziegfeld. Etting nervously prepared to sing for Ziegfeld at the audition. However, he did not ask her to sing at all; only to walk up and down the room. She was hired on that basis because Ziegfeld did not hire women with big ankles. While the original plan for the show was for Etting to do a tap dance after singing "Shaking the Blues Away", she later remembered she was not a very good dancer. At the show's final rehearsal, Flo Ziegfeld told her, "Ruth, when you get through singing, just walk off the stage". Etting also appeared in Ziegfeld's last "Follies" in 1931.

She went on to appear in a number of other hit shows in rapid succession, including Ziegfeld's Simple Simon and Whoopee!. Etting was not originally signed to perform in Simple Simon; she became part of the cast at the last minute when vocalist Lee Morse was too intoxicated to perform. Ziegfeld asked Etting to replace Morse; she hurried to Boston, where the show was being tried out prior to Broadway. When Etting arrived, songwriters Rodgers and Hart discovered that the song "Ten Cents a Dance" was not written for Etting's voice range. The three spent the night rewriting the song so Etting could perform it.

Toward the end of Simple Simon's Broadway run, Etting persuaded Ziegfeld to add "Love Me Or Leave Me" to the show though the song was originally written for Whoopee!. She had recorded the song in 1928, but Etting's new version of it was impressive enough to earn her a Vitaphone contract to make film shorts.

In Hollywood, Etting made a long series of movie shorts between 1929 and 1936, and three feature movies in 1933 and 1934. She described the short films as either having a simple plot to allow for her to sing two songs or with no plot at all. The idea was to have Etting sing at least two songs in the film. While she received a marquee billing for Roman Scandals, Etting had only two lines in the film and sang just one song. Etting believed she might have had more success in full-length films if she had been given some acting lessons. Her perception was that the studios viewed her only as a vocalist. She later recalled, "I was no actress, and I knew it. But I could sell a song". In 1936, she appeared in London in Ray Henderson's Transatlantic Rhythm. Etting quit the show because she and the other performers had not been paid.

Etting was first heard on radio station WLS when she was living in Chicago. Her appearance drew so much fan mail the station signed her to a year's contract for twice weekly performances. She had her own twice weekly 15 minute radio show on CBS in the 1930s. By 1934, she was on NBC with sports announcer Ted Husing doing the announcing and Oldsmobile sponsoring her program.

After an unissued test made by Victor on April 4, 1924, Etting was signed to Columbia Records in February 1926. She remained at Columbia through June 1931, when she split her recording between ARC (Banner, Perfect, Romeo, Oriole, etc.) and Columbia through March 1933. She signed with Brunswick and remained there until May 1934, when she re-signed with Columbia through July 1935. After a solitary Brunswick session in March 1936, she signed with the British label Rex and recorded two sessions in August and September, 1936. Etting returned to the US and signed with Decca in December 1936 and recorded until April 1937, when she basically retired from recording.

Etting saved some of her paycheck each week, regardless of the amount she was making at the time. Her friends said she invested in California real estate rather than the stock market. Etting, who made many of her own clothes, did her own housekeeping and lived frugally, initially announced her retirement in 1935. It is not clear why she did not go through with her announced plans, but she issued a second statement regarding retirement after filing for divorce from Snyder in November 1937.

Snyder's aggressive and controlling management style began to cause problems for Etting; during her work with Whoopee! on Broadway, Snyder was a constant presence. He was never without a gun and enjoyed poking people with it while saying "Put your hands up!" then laughing when their fright was evident. Snyder also persisted in cornering Ziegfeld because he believed Etting's role in the musical could be improved. Ziegfeld had a different opinion and indicated nothing would be changed. Snyder would then mumble that it was not a suggestion but a demand.

By 1934 she was having difficulty getting engagements. Snyder's arguing and fighting at venues where Etting was employed caused her to be passed by for jobs in the United States. In 1936, she thought taking work in England might be the answer, but Snyder created problems while she was working there also. Soon after the couple arrived in England, Snyder became involved in a street fight which created adverse publicity for Etting. She divorced Moe Snyder on the grounds of cruelty and abandonment on November 30, 1937. Snyder did not contest the divorce and received a settlement from his former wife. Etting gave her ex-husband half of her earnings at the time, $50,000, some securities and a half interest in a home in Beverly Hills, California. She deducted the gambling debts of Snyder she had paid and the costs she had paid for a home for Snyder's mother.

Etting fell in love with her pianist, Myrl Alderman, who was separated from his wife. In January 1938, she began receiving threatening telephone calls from Snyder, who initially claimed Etting withheld assets from him when the divorce settlement was made. Though the couple was divorced, Snyder was also upset because of reports that she was seeing another man. Snyder told Etting that he would come to California and kill her. When Snyder telephoned and found Etting unavailable, he told his daughter Edith that he "would fix her ticket, too". He called again that evening; this time Etting took the call with her cousin, Arthur Etting, listening on an extension. Etting requested police protection after the telephone call and arranged for private protection. Apparently believing the danger was over when Snyder did not appear soon after his telephone call, Etting released her bodyguards a few days later.

On October 15, 1938, Snyder detained Myrl Alderman at a local radio station and forced the pianist to take him to his former wife at gunpoint. In the house at the time were Etting and Edith Snyder. Edith, Snyder's daughter by a previous marriage, worked for Etting and remained living with her after the divorce. Snyder held Etting and Alderman at gunpoint; when told his daughter was in another part of the house, he made Etting call her into the room. Snyder said he intended to kill all three, and told them to be quiet. When Myrl Alderman attempted to speak, Snyder shot him. Snyder then told his ex-wife, "I've had my revenge, so you can call the police."

Snyder claimed Myrl Alderman pulled a gun and shot at him first and that his ex-wife would not file charges against him because she still loved him. He also claimed he was drunk when he made the telephone threats to Etting in January 1938, saying that at the time his intentions were to kill both his ex-wife and himself. Ruth Etting said that the only gun in the home belonged to her, and after the shooting of Alderman, she was able to go into her bedroom and get it. Upon seeing Etting's gun, Moe Snyder wrested it away from her; it landed on the floor. Snyder's daughter, Edith, picked it up and held it on her father, shooting at him but hitting the floor instead. During a police reenactment of the shooting three days later, Edith Snyder said that she fired at her father to save Ruth Etting, weeping as she continued, "I don't yet know whether I am sorry I missed my Dad or whether I am glad". Snyder was accused of attempting to murder his ex-wife, his daughter, and Etting's accompanist, Myrl Alderman, the kidnapping of Alderman, as well as California state gun law violations.

Three days after the shooting of Myrl Alderman, the pianist's second wife, Alma, sued Etting for alienation of her husband's affections. Though Etting and Alderman claimed to have been married in Tijuana, Mexico in July 1938, Alma Alderman said any marriage was invalid, because her divorce from Myrl Alderman would not be final until December 1938. Police investigators could find no record of the couple's Mexican marriage. Etting publicly invited Alma Alderman to visit her husband in the hospital, in an effort to see if the couple could reconcile.

Ruth Etting testified that she was not married to Alderman. During the course of the trial, there was also a question of the validity of Alderman's marriage to Alma. Alderman's first wife, Helen, obtained an interlocutory decree on January 7, 1935; the divorce became final one year later. On January 9, 1935, Alderman married Alma in Mexico. The second Mrs. Alderman called Moe Snyder to the stand as a witness regarding an attraction between her husband and Etting. Helen Alderman Warne also appeared in court, claiming that Alma Alderman had spirited Myrl away from her. Warne added that she had married and divorced the pianist twice. Alma Alderman's lawsuit ended in December 1939, with the court finding that she was not entitled to damages from Ruth Etting.

The testimony in both trials brought much personal information into the public eye. Snyder, who claimed to still be in love with his ex-wife, gave Etting a diamond and platinum bracelet which she accepted after Snyder's telephone threat in January 1938. Etting testified that she agreed with her ex-husband's statement to police that Snyder was either drunk or out of his mind when he threatened her by phone. Snyder's attorney initially tried to prevent Etting from testifying against Snyder with a charge that the divorce she obtained in Illinois was invalid because she was a resident of California at that time.

During the trial, Snyder's attorney portrayed Ruth Etting as a calculating woman who had married Moe Snyder strictly for the benefit of her career, and that she divorced him in favor of being with another, younger man (Alderman). Snyder's attorney echoed his client's claim of self-defense and said his client never intended to kill Etting, his daughter, and Myrl Alderman. The attorney further claimed that if Snyder intended to kill the pianist, he had ample time to do so while he held a gun on Alderman during the drive from the radio station to the home where the shooting took place.

Etting married Alderman, who was almost a decade her junior, on December 14, 1938 in Las Vegas, during Moe Snyder's trial for attempted murder. Snyder was convicted of attempted murder, but released on appeal after one year in jail. Snyder won a new trial but returned to jail in January 1940 in lieu of bail. In August 1940, Myrl Alderman asked the district attorney to drop further prosecution attempts against Snyder for the 1938 shooting.

Etting, who had retired from performing prior to the shooting and subsequent trials, briefly had a radio show on WHN in 1947. She also accepted an engagement at New York's Copacabana in March 1947. Etting traveled alone to New York and during a newspaper interview, was asked if she had ever seen Moe Snyder again. She replied, "No, I hope I never do." and said that her husband never went to bed without a gun.

The couple relocated to an eight-acre farm outside of Colorado Springs in 1938. Alderman, who was raised in Colorado Springs, operated a restaurant there for a time. Etting and Alderman remained married until his death in Denver on November 28, 1966; he was buried in Evergreen Cemetery, Colorado Springs. Etting died in Colorado Springs in 1978, aged 81. She was survived by a stepson, John Alderman, and four grandchildren. Alderman and Etting are now interred at the Shrine of Remembrance Mausoleum in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

Her life was the basis for the fictionalized 1955 film, Love Me or Leave Me, which starred Doris Day (as Etting), James Cagney (as Snyder) and Cameron Mitchell (as Alderman). Etting, Myrl Alderman and Moe Snyder all sold their rights to the story to MGM; Snyder was living in Chicago in 1955. Etting expressed sadness that "the real highlight of my life", her marriage to Alderman, was omitted from the film. Shortly before her death, Etting said she thought the screen portrayal of her was too tough and that Jane Powell would have been a better choice for the lead.

Etting has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for her work in films, located on the north side of the 6500 block of Hollywood Boulevard. Her recordings of Love Me Or Leave Me (2005) and Ten Cents a Dance (1999) are part of the Grammy Hall of Fame.

#ruth etting #classic hollywood #classic stars #golden age of hollywood #singer #1920s hollywood #1930s hollywood

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something-tofightfor · 4 years ago

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Tipping Point - 14

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Reader

Word Count: 8325

Rating: NSFW (it’s zesty. it’s really zesty.)

Summary: The last night Benjamin and Eric are in town, you and Michelle give them a proper send off - but what happens after?

Author’s Note: And here... we... go.

The next day seemed to fly by, much to Benjamin’s disappointment. While you went to the grocery store, he stayed at your house, doing a final load of laundry and packing his suitcase for the trip back to London. I can’t believe three weeks are over already. So much had happened, even though it seemed like he’d barely blinked his eyes from the moment he’d stopped off the plane and into O’Hare.

He folded his clothes carefully, leaving out something to sleep in and a clean t shirt for the following day, but Benjamin was shocked to see how much spare room he had in his bag. Didn’t buy much while I was out here, just… just took pictures and got a few small things. He’d picked up souvenirs for Bianca and Zac, along with a couple of bags of Milky Way bars for himself, but that was it. Typical. He was used to traveling light, but even by looking around your room, he knew that you’d taken more home from your few days in London than he was after weeks spent in Chicago.

You still weren’t back by the time Benjamin was finished, so he went back downstairs and into your kitchen, wanting to be ready to help you carry things in as soon as you parked. Busying himself by making the last of the tea you’d had imported for him, Benjamin sat at the table with a mug between his hands, thinking. The morning hadn’t been awkward after the sudden change in plans the previous night. In fact, the opposite seemed to be true. You’d woken Benjamin up, lips gently kissing their way across his bare chest, your hair trailing over the top of his arm and shoulder, and though neither of you had spoken, the following hour was spent in each other’s arms - trading kisses, fingers lazily trailing over each other’s skin.

There was no need to say it. Both of you were trying to enjoy the final hours you had alone together, and since until further notice, things weren’t going to progress, you were filling the time in the only way you could. He wanted to stay in bed, drawing out the last day he had with you, but you’d torn yourself out of the bed at noon - to his disappointment. I understand, but… He sighed as he looked around your kitchen, leaning back in his chair. It will be good to see Eric and Michelle again.

Even as he had the thought, he heard the front door open, two distinct voices audible. They’re here. He stood, leaving the mug and walking down the hallway. Benjamin met Eric’s eyes, your brother’s arms full of bags, Michelle right behind him. “Benjamin!” The woman grinned, pushing past Eric and reaching out to squeeze his elbow. “I feel like it’s been forever since I last saw you.” He laughed, opening his arms and hugging the woman, though he felt surprise as he did so. Since when do I … “You ready to go home?”

��“I…” He pulled away from Michelle, turning to the side and letting Eric pass, glancing at the open doorway. Where are you? “Yes and no.” He shrugged. “Looking forward to getting back into a routine, but not looking forward to all those hours on the plane.” She laughed, and Benjamin glanced back over his shoulder. “Where’s -”

“Oh, she’s still not done. We came over early so that I could start the marinade.” Michelle pointed. “You and Eric are not allowed in the kitchen to help, so get a beer and go somewhere else.” I can see why he likes her so much. The woman’s tone was one Benjamin wouldn’t have argued with on a good day, and so he grinned and held up both hands, following Michelle into the kitchen, where Eric was leaning against the counter - a beer in his hand and an unopened one next to him.

“Got you one, Benjamin.” He looked at Michelle. “Guess we’re not allowed -”

“Fine by me.” Benjamin reached for the beer, popping the can open. “I have no idea how to properly barbecue, so I’d be useless in here.”

“That’s a lie.” He paused as he heard your voice. “Not useless, just… unsure.” Benjamin turned to face you, fighting back a smile. You’re in trouble, Benjamin Greene. “Help me with these bags?” He set the beer down and stepped toward you, reaching out with both hands to take the plastic from you, fingers glancing off of your knuckles. He heard you inhale at the contact, though you didn’t react in any other way, still hurrying to give him some of what you carried. Maybe… I think she is, too. “Sorry that took so long, it’s like everyone was shopping at the same time and the lines were…” You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, the bag with the chocolate’s yours.” You stopped moving, meeting his eyes. “You should go and put it in your suitcase so you don’t forget.” But I’ve already packed, and I… He furrowed his brow but you raised an eyebrow in response. “And then, you and Eric can take your beers and go and do whatever it is that you men do when you’re waiting for dinner.”

Benjamin glanced down, separating the bag that contained yet another package of candy bars from the others, setting them on the counter. I’ll be set til January. “Grab my beer, Eric? I’ll meet you in the living room?” The other man agreed, and Benjamin left the kitchen, going back into the study, bag in hand. What’s… Oh. He set it down on the couch, using one hand to rifle through it, and felt his eyes go wide. “What?” Beneath the bags of chocolate was a small but familiar box. He sat on the edge of the cushion, blinking. This makes no…

“Hey.” You were in the doorway, a nervous expression on your face. “I told them I needed to come and see how you eat your steak, so we don’t have long, but…” You took one step inside the room, eyes locked with Benjamin. “I just thought it was a good idea to be… ready. Just in case.” But we… last night, what would… “I also,” you continued, your hand covering Benjamin’s fingers, which were curled around the box. “Didn’t think that it would be appropriate to use any of the leftovers in the drawer, so I tossed them.” You took a deep breath. “You deserve better than that, Benjamin.” Does that mean… “So… new box. New start, new… everything.”

“You… I… we… thank you.” He said the first words that came to mind, standing and setting the box down, his other hand reaching for your hip. “We’ll talk about this later, though. We’ve got… you’ve got company.” He could barely think straight, the small box having thrown a wrench into his idea of how the rest of the night would go. She thought of that while she was… “I don’t… I don’t know what to say, I thought we…” You smiled at him, rising onto your toes and kissing him, the pressure of your lips against his much too fleeting.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that those were supposed to be in there.” You cleared your throat. “It wasn’t an accident, or something you weren’t supposed to see.” I’d never think… “I’ll see you in a few.” You stepped away and back into the hallway, but Benjamin said your name, stopping you.

“Hey.” You looked back at him, waiting. “I like my steaks mid rare.” Confused for a second, you finally got it, closing your eyes and mouthing the word “thanks” before you left the room entirely. He sat back down on the couch, picking the box up again and turning it over in his hands. Even if we don’t use these, it … she … she thought through it. He stood, sliding the box beneath the pajamas that were sitting on top of his suitcase and then took a deep breath before following you out the door and down the hall, back toward the kitchen.

---

By the time the four of you finished eating a few hours later, Benjamin was more comfortable in your home than he’d ever thought possible. Of course, it’s the night before I leave. You and Michelle had prepped all the of the food while he and Eric sat on your screened in back porch, watching TV and talking. He hadn’t asked Benjamin about you again, but more than a few times while they waited - and while you ate - the man looked between the two of you, almost as if he was trying to figure out what (if anything) had happened. You’re not going to get anything from me, Eric. There’s nothing to tell.

When you’d promised him a midwest barbecue, Benjamin hadn’t known what to expect, but it definitely hadn’t been enough food to feed a small army. Steak and shrimp, macaroni salad, corn on the cob that you’d grilled in the husk, baked beans - the food was delicious, and Benjamin ate way too much, laughing and joking with the three of you for the entire meal. “So, Benjamin.” Eric was leaning back on your outdoor loveseat, one arm around Michelle’s shoulders, the other hand holding a beer. “Are you glad you came?”

“Yes.” He sipped his own drink, nose wrinkling. “I didn’t think I’d enjoy myself as much as I did because everything was still so… recent.” He paused, adjusting his glasses. “But I was wrong.” He glanced over at you, turned sideways on the other end of the couch he was on, your knees bent and bare feet on the cushion next to his thigh. You were wearing a dress - a short one, the fabric barely hanging down to your knees when you stood - and because of the way you were sitting, you’d tucked it between your legs, exposing more of your thighs. All I want to do is reach for her. He’d had the thought many times that night; wanting to lean in and kiss your shoulder as he passed you in the kitchen for a new drink, to put his arms around you from behind as you stood in front of the counter, chopping vegetables, or held the tongs in front of the grill. He’d wanted to take your hand multiple times, but because you’d been careful to keep your distance, he hadn’t. It’s too soon, it’s not… it would mean that...

“We’re going to go.” Michelle was the first one to stand, pulling herself out of Eric’s hold. “I’ll have him back in plenty of time to go to the airport, but…” What is she looking at? Benjamin watched as Michelle’s eyes moved between the two of you, a knowing smile on her face. “But we thought that out of respect for your house, we’d … um…” She raised an eyebrow, looking at Eric. “I’m sure you can -”

“It’s our last night together until Christmas.” Eric shrugged, standing and taking the woman’s hand. “So you know -”

“Gross.” You waved your brother off, rolling your eyes. “Get out of here.” Michelle laughed and Benjamin did too. “I didn’t realize that it was so serious between you two?” You questioned them as you stood, reaching for Benjamin’s empty beer bottle, smoothly lifting it between two fingers by the neck. “Visiting for Christmas?”

“Yeah, well.” Eric wrapped an arm around Michelle’s waist. “We just decided that it wasn’t working the way we were doing things before.” Guess this means no more random women. “We both know what we want, so…” He leaned over, kissing Michelle’s temple. “Why make ourselves miserable?” Good for you.

“So you aren’t coming back here for the holidays, then?” You - for the first time - sounded upset. “Mom and dad will -”

“They’ll deal with it.” Eric lifted a hand to his hair, running his fingers through it. “But we’re going to go, so… see you tomorrow?” They made their way back into the house, you and Benjamin following, and he was surprised to feel your hand pressed against his lower back as you moved, the first real contact you’d had in hours. She doesn’t want Eric or Michelle to see...or to know… or… “Thanks for letting us use your kitchen.” Eric spoke to you as Michelle packed leftovers into a bag, removing them from the refrigerator with her back to the three of you. “Thank you for cooking.”

“Hey, I helped!” Michelle turned, one hand on her hip. “You -”

“He knows.” You sat down at the table. “Are we all driving to the airport together, or…” You trailed off. “Just need to know what time to be ready to leave.” Benjamin tuned the conversation out, not wanting to think about the quickly diminishing amount of time he had left with you, but when he felt Eric’s hand clamp down on his shoulder, he shook himself back into focus.

“Night, Eric. See you tomorrow.” The man leaned in giving Benjamin a one armed hug, Benjamin patting him twice on the back. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” There was a quiet laugh, and then Eric spoke into Benjamin’s ear.

“Practice what you preach, Benjamin.” Damn. Eric straightened up, an expectant look in his eyes. I’ll have to speak to him on the plane about…”Night, guys. See you tomorrow.” Benjamin’s heart racing, he watched as Eric and Michelle made their way down the hallway and out the front door, you not far behind them to lock it. We’re alone again, and this is the last night…

“Benjamin?” Your voice was uncertain, and his attention snapped back to you. “I know it’s early, but I don’t want to…” You walked back to the kitchen slowly, and he realized that you weren’t uncertain - you were upset. Oh no. Standing, he met you in the doorway, arms going around you and yours doing the same to him, forehead pressed against his chest. We’re both in trouble.

---

Instead of going up to bed, you and Benjamin made your way back to the couch in the living room, turning the TV on and settling in. It started out innocently enough; Benjamin stretched out, you in front of him, back pressed to his chest, but it didn’t last long. I can’t stop touching her. Your hands were linked together - the arm he had beneath your body pressed flat against your stomach, yours on top of it, the thumb moving idly over his knuckles. Benjamin’s other hand was on your hip, though it remained still - at least at first.

When you shifted in front of him, getting more comfortable, his hand moved too, unwittingly pulling your skirt up slightly. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what we’re watching, he realized after nearly half an hour, his eyes on the TV but unfocused. And I don’t care. “So you had a good trip, Benjamin?” He looked down as you looked up, the shadows from the glow of the TV moving over your face. “It was worth coming here?”

“The best vacation I’ve ever had.” He answered truthfully. “And that’s only partially because of… this.” He tightened his hold on you, swallowing. “I needed to get away, needed to reassess my life, needed to breathe.” Benjamin wet his lips, still looking down at you. “And I did that, here.”

“I’m glad.” You sighed, shifting way from him and onto your back, one of his arms still beneath you and the one that had been on your hip relocating to the top of your thigh. Her skirt’s … I can feel skin. “I wish you could stay longer.” I do too. “But maybe it’s better that you’re leaving now. What? “You’d get sick of me if you stayed any longer.” Your tone was serious, but he watched you trying to hide your smile, and that’s all it took. Benjamin ducked his head down, kissing you.

“I wouldn’t.” He smiled without pulling away, feeling you do the same. “You’d be the one tired of me before too long.” He watched as you rolled your eyes at him and then took a deep breath as he backed off slightly. What’s she going to say?

“Are you upset that I kept my distance tonight when Eric and Michelle were here?” You sounded worried. “I just didn’t want to spend the whole night explaining whatever this is, and having him eyeball you like I’m still -”

“Eric,” Benjamin replied, the hand on your leg squeezing your skin. “Cornered me when we got back from Chicago last weekend and flat out asked me if we’d been together.” Benjamin watched your expression, seeing the surprise in your eyes. “So I doubt he would have been at all shocked if he’d seen us holding hands or right next to each other or… or anything of the sort.” He paused. “But.” He closed the distance again, your breath hitting his lips before his mouth met yours, the kiss quick and hard. “No, I’m not upset.” You kissed him back, one of your hands finding the short hair at the back of his neck, and Benjamin was unable to speak further, his thoughts going from explaining himself to simply enjoying the feeling of you beneath him, your grip on the back of his neck tightening with every tiny movement of your lips against his.

Without realizing that he was doing it, Benjamin’s hand slid further up your thigh, pushing your skirt with it, even as he pulled your lower half back toward him. But it wasn’t until he raised his head to take a deep, shuddering breath that you acknowledged anything. “You’re getting handsy, Benjamin Greene.” I didn’t mean to, I … Glancing down, he saw that almost his entire hand was beneath the material of your dress, the tips of his fingers on the outside of your leg and his thumb resting on the inside of your thigh.

“I’m sorry, I -”

“I’m not.” You pulled his face back down to yours, mouth next to his ear. “Don’t stop.” He felt your teeth close around his earlobe and Benjamin reacted in an instant, sliding his hand up a little more, thumb slipping into the dip where your thigh met your hip and his grip tightening. Does she mean… He felt your kisses moving along his jaw but Benjamin didn’t dare move his hand again aside from sweeping his thumb from side to side slowly, focused on the alternating feeling of bare skin and cotton beneath it. “You gonna kiss me, Benjamin, or -” He turned his head slightly to the side, mouth open, and found yours waiting, wasting no time in trailing his tongue over your lower lip before slipping it into your mouth, the quiet moan you replied with encouraging him to continue.

As he kissed you, your hand moved down from his neck to the center of his back, urging him to lower the upper half of his body to yours. He did, though he was still mostly sideways next to you, his own hip digging into the cushion of the couch. If you’re going to make a move, Benjamin, it’s now or never. You sighed into his mouth, and Benjamin felt your teeth grazing his lip. All she can do is tell you to stop. He shifted his hand, and at the sudden low noise you made when Benjamin’s fingers slid beneath the cotton material of your underwear, he froze. She’s going to tell me to stop.

But you didn’t, your grip on him tightening and your hips lifting slightly off of the couch and into his touch, his hand moving slowly forward. That movement stopped when the curve between his thumb and index finger made contact with the elastic that rested against your thigh. He broke the kiss, opening his eyes and looking down at you, waiting. She has to give me… “Yes.” It was barely a whisper, but he heard the certainty in it, saw the nod of your head. “Benjamin.” He’d never heard someone say his name quite like you did, and without averting his gaze, Benjamin moved only his thumb - still on the outside of your underwear - in a slow downward arc.

Your lips parted, and Benjamin stayed quiet until he felt that the material under the pad of his thumb was damp, and then it was his turn to breathe your name out, even as he added pressure with his touch. Though unfamiliar with your body, Benjamin let your movements guide his, keeping the angle of his hand slightly skewed and giving him the ability to widen the path of his thumb, the tips of his fingers just curled low on your abdomen. He wanted to watch you; see the changes on your face, but you didn’t let him - urging him to kiss you again, this one deep and slow. He switched to deliberate circles against you, feeling more and more of the cotton dampening with each pass, and after only a few minutes, he pulled his hand away entirely, returning it to the top of your thigh. “Let me take you to bed.” He swallowed, staring down at you. “I don’t want to do this here, on your couch, I -”

You nodded, eyes closed, and he watched how hard you were breathing, the rise and fall of your chest visible even in the dim light. “Yeah, Benjamin.” When you opened them again, you stared straight at him, no trace of the previous night’s hesitation present. “Bed’s good.”

---

The only detour he made was into the office to grab the box of condoms from beneath his pajamas, Benjamin hurrying up the stairs and to your room. You’d left the lights off, though you had the curtains drawn. In the light of the streetlight, he could see your features more clearly, the desire in your eyes apparent. He dropped the box onto your bed as he stepped across the room, reaching for you without speaking. Gathering you into his arms, Benjamin buried his nose in your hair, inhaling deeply. I want to remember this. “Here.” You pushed him away, a smile on your face. “Let me get that for you.” You reached for his shirt, removing it with his help, the dark green material falling to the floor. Trailing your hands down his bare chest, you reached the waistband of his pants, fingers deftly undoing the button and then moving to the zipper, one hand pulling it down.

Glancing up at him before you continued, Benjamin raised one eyebrow, a small smile on his lips. Get on with it, then. But he understood - you were taking your time, savoring the act of undressing him fully for the first time. I’ll be doing the same. He thought that once you’d pushed the denim past his hips, you’d let him step out of his jeans, but you surprised Benjamin, kneeling down in front of him and slowly easing the material down his legs. He focused his gaze on you, watching the way your hands moved, the way your shoulders and arms looked in the darkness, the way you glanced up at him every few seconds. He was so focused, he almost missed the way your right hand reached up, fingers sliding up the skin of his leg and then over the material of his boxer briefs. “Hey, what -”

But instead of stopping, you rose along with your hand, standing in front of him again and cocking your head to the side. “I think it’s my turn, don’t you?” God, yes. He reached out even as he nodded, assessing the situation. He could have pulled your dress over your head in one fell swoop, ridding you of the largest clothing item that you wore, but instead he raised both hands to your shoulders, hooking the straps of your dress with his thumbs and easing them down over your arms. Slow. There’s no rush. Methodically, Benjamin pushed the fabric down, pausing to lean in and press his lips to your shoulder, trying to keep himself from moving too quickly. You slipped your arms out of the straps and Benjamin shifted his attention to the bodice of your dress, hands going to your ribs and gathering the material there before pulling downward.

He straightened up, eyes moving over your body as your chest was fully exposed, the black material of your bra coming into view, followed by the smooth skin of your torso beneath it. With every newly visible inch, Benjamin felt his heart thud against his ribs until the dress was to your waist, the skirt hanging lower than it had all day. “Are you -” Before he could finish, your hands were atop his, guiding them further down and helping him rid you of the dress. As it dropped to the floor and you were left in front of him wearing only a bra and a pair of simple cotton underwear, Benjamin swore quietly. “You’re… damn.”

“Speechless, Benjamin?” You stepped forward, kicking the dress behind you. “I’ll take that as a compliment. It is one. It’s… “You’re not so bad yourself.” He felt your fingers dancing over the skin of his ribs, and at the touch, Benjamin moved, his hands finding your hips and pushing you backwards, guiding you until your shoulders connected with the wall next to your dresser. He pressed his body against yours without thinking, feeling your grip change as your nails raked over his back, urging him even closer until he had you pinned against the wall, the entire length of him holding you in place.

Rather than kiss you on the mouth, Benjamin lowered his head and bit down on the top of your shoulder, removing his hands from your waist and bringing them up to your arms. He held you tightly, rocking his hips against yours once as he nipped his way across your collar. Smiling as he heard your breathing change, Benjamin’s hands slid up until one cradled the back of your head and the fingers of the other were at your brow, pushing your hair out of the way. He didn’t need to say anything to you; he saw that your eyes were wide, your pupils enlarged. She wants this as much as I do. She wants me as much… Pushing all thoughts of the last few times he’d tried to - or had been intimate with anyone out of his mind, Benjamin leaned in, barely meeting your lips with his.

But you had other plans, and as he went to pull his head back you followed him, leaning away from the wall. He let go of your hips and slid his hands up your sides, using your changed position to reach for the band of your bra, meaning to unhook it. “Front, Benjamin.” You were breathing hard as you kissed him, mouth moving over the skin of his face. “Closes in the front.” You leaned back, waiting, and Benjamin took your instruction as a go ahead, hands moving back around to your front and then up.

His gaze rose to your face as his hands covered your chest, and Benjamin was shocked to see that you were watching him closely, eyes on his. “What are you looking at?” He grinned at you, even as his fingertips trailed over the top edges of your bra, following them down to the hollow of your chest.

“You.” You swallowed, arching your back and pushing your chest into his hands, the warmth and fullness welcome after months of Benjamin being hands off from anything. “Just you.” He felt the closure beneath his thumb, and Benjamin unhooked it quickly without replying. “It’s alright, Benjamin. I promise you.” What does she mean? He felt your hands slide away from his back and to his elbows, pulling them closer to you and encouraging him to take you into his hands completely. “I mean it.” He didn’t need anything else from you; Benjamin widened the spread of his fingers, and then broke eye contact, glancing down. The black material pushed to the side exposed your upper body to him, and with ease, he pulled your bra open enough to slide the straps down your arms, ridding you of it, too.

“You’re…” He sucked in a breath, unconsciously licking at the corner of his mouth. “You’re perfect.” He wasn’t typically one to talk a great deal in bed, but Benjamin couldn’t help it once he’d laid his eyes on what he’d uncovered. “Absolutely…”

“Then do something about it, Benjamin.” You let go of his arms, hands dropping to your sides. “I’m all yours.” Are you? Are you really? But he lowered his head, returning his lips to your collarbone, and then his focus shifted. I want to taste every inch of her. Every single inch. He swept his hands over your bare skin, feeling you begin to touch him again, hands roaming over his back and shoulders as Benjamin moved back enough to give himself the ability to lean down further. Hands on either side of your chest, he pushed your breasts together, tongue dragging between them and then to one side, your peaked nipple firm beneath it.

He closed his teeth around the pebbled skin, sucking hard, and the sound you made spurred him on. This is everything I’ve wished for, and I’m only... Benjamin released you before switching to the other side and repeating his actions, your grip on him tightening. His mouth still on you, Benjamin lowered one hand, his fingers tracing a path down the right side of your abdomen, only halting when he reached your waist - and the last piece of clothing you wore. It would have been easy to continue, ridding you of the cotton, but Benjamin paused long enough to glance up at you without lifting his lips from its place on your chest. You mouthed the word ‘yes’ again and that was all it took, Benjamin closing his fingers around the material he was touching and yanking it downward, feeling it pull away from your body without resistance.

He felt you shift, knees lifting one after the other as you stepped out of your underwear. She’s … that’s it, it’s all… With one final kiss to the inside curve of your breast, Benjamin straightened up, hands leaving your body. Even in the low light, he could see everything, and once again, Benjamin was speechless. You hesitated for only a moment, watching as Benjamin’s eyes moved over you from head to toe, and though he expected you to be shy - nervous even, you didn’t attempt to cover yourself. Either she really wants this or… But he didn’t get to finish the thought, as you reached out with both hands and dropped them to his waist. “Is it - can I…” Rather than speaking, Benjamin leaned in and kissed you, drawing your lower lip into his mouth as a reply. He felt your fingers slip beneath the elastic band at his waist and then you were pushing his underwear down; not hurrying, but taking your time. Your nails scratched gently against his thighs, and in an instant, Benjamin realized that you were holding yourself back, too. We’re both… imagine what it would be like if we weren’t… The cotton hit the tops of his feet and Benjamin kicked it away, not caring where it went. “Should we…” He took a breath, tongue darting out to wet his lips as you spoke. “Should we get in bed?”

You laughed quietly when you finished, but Benjamin used one hand to tilt your face up toward his, tone serious. “I’m not quite done with you here yet, if that’s alright.” You sucked in a breath, eyes going wide and Benjamin tilted your head back further, closing the distance between the two of you and meeting your lips with his. As the two of you kissed - slowly at first - Benjamin felt his thoughts running away from him, disappearing with every shift of your fingers against the back of his neck and side, every slight sigh as you lost yourself in him. This isn’t need. This isn’t… it’s… I want this.

As he had the thought, the hand near your face dropped down to your shoulder, his fingers curving over it before they slid further, past your elbow, and then his hand was on your side, slowly easing to your hip. There, he tightened his grip and then lifted the other arm, winding it around your waist and pulling you flush against him and away from the wall. She can feel me, I’m right up against her and now there’s… The feeling of your skin beneath his palm and against his chest - warm and firm and bare made him feel bold; without giving himself a chance to think, Benjamin moved his hands at the same time, releasing you from his grip and crouching down without ending the kiss. He gripped the backs of your thighs, hoping you understood his intentions, and then straightened up, lifting you with him.

He felt you groan, the sound vibrating against his lips, and he adjusted his hold on you, giving you a chance to steady yourself. You were clutching his shoulder, arm wrapped around his neck from behind, and though your grip was tight, it wasn’t unpleasant. “What’s this, Benjamin?” You murmured the words as you wrapped your legs around his waist, breath warm against the skin of his cheek. “Gonna throw me int -”

“If that’s what you want.” He spoke quietly, knowing that you could hear the smile behind his words. “I was just trying to move things along.” You actually laughed at that, lowering your head so that your forehead rested against his shoulder. “Hold on tight.” He turned with you in his arms and stepped toward the bed before leaning forward and lowering you down onto the mattress. That done, he stood up again and looked down at you, watching as you moved backwards toward your headboard, legs stretched out in front of you. There were shadows playing over your skin, though they didn’t hide anything, and Benjamin stared at you without shame, head held high. She’s looking at me, too. “What?” Benjamin raised an eyebrow. “Say it.”

“I just…” You pressed your lips together, shrugging your shoulders. “I just didn’t think this would…” He knelt down on the edge of the bed, reaching over with one hand for the box he’d set down and then slowly crawled up toward you, keeping his eyes on your face.

“Well it is.” He used his free hand, flattening his palm against your leg and running it upward - starting at your knee. He winked at you as he reached your thigh, altering the path to slide his fingers up the center of your stomach, propping himself up on his other elbow next to you. “D’you want to open the -” You took the box from him, using one nail to tear into it. Someone’s eager. He realized as he watched you move that he was idly moving his fingers up and down against the center of your chest, and as you set the box down onto the empty space next to you, Benjamin turned his hand, again palming one of your breasts before continuing upward. “How do you -”

“I want to look at you, Benjamin.” You breathed the words out as his hand reached your throat, and though he didn’t pause, he felt his fingers flex as he moved, turning your head all the way toward him. “Want to... to-” He kissed you again, eyes closing, and though your hand immediately went into his hair, tugging gently on the soft strands, Benjamin took your hand in his after only a few seconds, leading it downward. You want to touch me? Touch me. The hand holding the condom was still resting against your chest, but Benjamin let go of your other hand near his navel, just after your fingertips made contact with the skin there. Yes. His hand went to your thigh, gripping it and then moving down and toward your knee, lifting your leg and then guiding it toward his.

Cautiously, your fingers traveled down, the contact you made with the skin below his waist causing him to sigh, and even though he tried to play it cool, the moment your fingers wrapped around him for the first time, Benjamin shuddered. The contact was welcome, but the feeling of your hand against his skin after so much waiting was almost too much for him, and he tore his lips away from yours, panting out your name. You shushed him quietly, tentatively sliding your hand up and down along his length, and Benjamin glanced down between your bodies, watching the movement. This is … He closed his eyes, swallowing. “You’re going to -” He hissed as you tightened your grip, thumb glancing off the tip of him before your hand moved back toward his torso. “You’re going to have to stop that, otherwise I might…”

But he couldn’t get the words out; you stole them from his lips with another kiss - this one hard and fast, his hand moving back up to grip your thigh and pull your lower body closer to him. “Here.” You panted out the word a few seconds later, and Benjamin felt the hand on your stomach moving, the edge of the small foil-wrapped package poking into his forearm. “Put this on, I don’t want to…” He kissed you on the jaw, teeth dragging over your skin, but took it from you, raising it to his mouth and tearing it open with his teeth, unwilling to remove his hand from your leg. “Fuck, Benjamin.” He watched your eyes widen, his lips curving into a smirk, and then Benjamin reached downward, eyes following his hand.

He rolled the thin latex down over himself with one hand, and though he hadn’t used one in a long time - there’d been no worry of Julia getting pregnant - the feeling of it against his skin comforted him in a way that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Not now. Think about it later. “All ready.” He finally let go of your leg, raising his hand to your brow again, thumb cresting the curve of your cheek. “Only one thing left to -” You squeezed your hand around him, and Benjamin felt every movement as you shifted, lifting your leg higher to open yourself up more, eyes on his.

“You, Benjamin. I want it to be…” He understood, reaching over your leg and then behind it, covering your hand with his. You were already close to him; there was very little space between your bodies, but when Benjamin felt himself rub against you for the first time, he had to fight to keep his eyes open, not letting them snap shut. He could feel the same dampness from earlier - now more prominent, and with a final breath, Benjamin gave a tiny thrust of his hips, sinking into you.

There was some resistance, and he couldn’t hold back the grin at the feeling, but his thoughts quickly went back to you, even as he began to move his hips against yours, finding a rhythm. The position that you were in was more than ideal - Benjamin’s upper body was pressed against yours chest to chest, though he was still gripping your thigh. He felt everything; you moving against and beneath him, one arm folded back beneath your head, the other hand in his hair as he kissed you. The kisses you traded as his hips picked up speed weren’t refined or hesitant - he gave himself over to you, holding nothing back and hoping that you knew that he was right there with you - not trying to take over or lead you anywhere you didn’t want to go, but also doing little to rein himself in. This is me. This is what’s … this is what I want.

Neither of you spoke, but he knew what you were saying with your body, even though every second was new to him. He eased you onto your back fully after a few minutes, pulling out of you long enough to position himself between your legs, one hand at his base to steady himself and then he thrust forward again - no resistance the second time. It was his turn to groan loudly as he settled over you on one elbow, his bent arm going behind your head to lift it from the pillow and make it easier for you to kiss him. This is better, it’s more controlled, I …

Vaguely aware of you bending your knees to brace yourself against his movements, Benjamin focused his thoughts, eyes raking over your body and trying to figure out exactly where you were - what you were feeling and what he needed to do to take you over the edge. She’s got to come first, it’s only right.

Breathing hard, Benjamin lowered his head, feeling the hand at the back of his neck drop to the center of his back, fingers splayed against his spine. She wants me closer. The thought made him falter in his movement, head dropping further, and Benjamin found his lips pressed to the inside of your bicep, though his forehead was against the pillow beneath your head. You moaned his name quietly, the sound shaking him to his core, and Benjamin bit down on your skin without thinking, his body reacting the sound of it leaving your lips. He felt your hand shift, nails digging into the tender skin of his back at the same moment, and Benjamin knew - without a doubt - that he’d done something you liked. Yes. He continued to bite down, moving over your inner arm inch by inch, and you moved beneath him, back arching off of the mattress, chest against his. “Benjamin, you… please.” Your words were nearly incoherent and he focused on you; on the way your bodies were connected - the feeling of movement within you, his lips on your skin, the way your hair felt beneath the hand on the arm that was holding him up. “I … I need… I want…” You were mumbling but he heard you clearly, and after one final pinch with his teeth, he raised his head again, looking down at you.

Your eyes were closed, lips hanging open just enough that he could see your teeth behind them, but when you noticed that he’d moved, you opened your eyes, staring at him. Damn. The sight of you below him, eyes shining in the low light, brow damp with sweat was enough to drive him mad, but he shook his head, biting down on the inside of his cheek. Not yet, Benjamin. Not until… “Benjamin… it’s…” You sighed, breathing hard and lifting one hand to touch his face. “It’s ok. You don’t have to wait.” What? You closed your eyes again, humming as he swiveled his hips against yours. You whispered something else, but he didn’t hear it, furrowing his brow as he leaned down, kissing your cheek. What did she… “I’ll follow.” You spoke into his ear, moving the hand on his back down to his waist and then lower, fingers squeezing against his flesh. “It… ‘salright.”

It was the only reassurance he needed, and Benjamin kissed you soundly, fisting your hair in his hand as he changed the angle of his thrusts slightly again, your knee digging into the side of his leg. Damn right you’ll follow. He broke the kiss, turning his head to press his cheek to yours, panting, and Benjamin heard you say his name once more - perfectly clear in his ear, the last syllable elongated, and that’s all it took. His body tensed for a moment, and then with three quick thrusts, he emptied himself into you, crying out and lowering his head again. He didn’t even know what he said - your name, something vulgar, a combination of the two - but you laughed quietly, urging him to continue moving within you, drawing things out as long as possible for himself.

Barely able to think straight, Benjamin only took one breath and then spoke into your ear, his voice low. “Your turn.” He knew he was losing time, but was determined to push you over the edge without pulling out of you. It’s only fair. He was breathing hard, but managed three more words. “Your turn now.” You didn’t laugh at that, changing your grip on him and rolling your hips up to meet his, the change in pressure a surprise to Benjamin. It was a welcome change for him - his partner actively participating instead of expecting him to do all the work, and at the thought, he had an idea. It’s not just her, I have to… He turned his head again, but instead of kissing you, he bit down on the crook of your neck, latching on to the skin and flicking his tongue against it.

Almost immediately you cried out, and Benjamin felt your muscles pulse around him - the sensation heightened due to his overstimulated state. There you go. Though your hips jerked against his twice, you relaxed back onto the bed, head falling to the side and your hand dropping from his body and landing against the blankets. Unwillingly, Benjamin took a deep breath and pulled out of you, carefully easing himself away from your body. As he laid back on the bed next to you, he glanced down watching his chest rise and fall, one knee bent. That was… He turned his head to look at you and was surprised to see that you were staring at him again, a satisfied smile on your face. “Are you alright, Benjamin.” He watched one eyebrow raise, lips pushed out slightly. “You look winded.”

“And you’re not?” He rolled back toward you, reaching out with his hand to cup your cheek, his own smile growing. “Don’t tell me that wasn’t -” You also moved onto your side, though he could see the effort it took, your breath leaving you in a huff. “I can hear you breathing, you know.”

“You did all the work, Benjamin Greene.” He felt your hand on his side, the weight comforting. “Every single bit.” I didn’t. Not at all. “I’m just teasing you.”

“I know.” Moving his face closer to yours, Benjamin kissed you on the mouth, his fingers curled around the back of your head. “And I like it. It’s a welcome change.” Shut up, Benjamin.

“Good.” You spoke against his lips, smiling. “That’s what I want to hear.” She isn’t even going to ask? He blinked, easing away from you but not looking away.

“We should get cleaned up.” You swallowed hard after you spoke, though you didn’t make any move to get up. “You know where the bathroom is, Benjamin.” He waited a few seconds and then stood, reaching down to ensure that the rubber didn’t slip off. That would be bad. He busied himself in your bathroom, taking a few minutes to clean himself off, but Benjamin didn’t linger, hurrying back into your bedroom and looking for you. Where’d she… “Thought you might be thirsty.” You were in the doorway, and Benjamin’s eyes widened as he saw you’d pulled on his t shirt, the material hanging down to mid thigh. “Brought you some water.”

You reentered the room, two bottles in one hand, and he took one from you, pulling a pillow onto his lap instead of trying to find his underwear. “Thanks.” He took a long swallow, gulping down the cold water, and then looked at you again as you sat cross legged next to him. The room was silent, but it was a comfortable one, and Benjamin simply waited to see what you’d say next. “With all the talking we’ve done over the last week, you’d… you’d think I’d have a lot to say.” Yeah, I … I do. “But Benjamin…” You met his eyes, and he was surprised to see that you looked perfectly calm. “There’s nothing else to say, is there?”

“What do you -” He capped his water bottle, setting it down on the bedside table. “There’s plenty to -” You waved a hand, draining the last of your own bottle.

“I don’t mean about what just happened.” You chewed on your lip. “Because I have plenty to say about that, Benjamin.” You reached out for his hand, taking it into yours. “I just mean… about everything else. I know there’s a lot more we need to talk about, things you need to tell me, but… none of it is important right now.” It’s not? “There’s nothing to explain or worry about or justify.” There isn’t. “It feels… good.”

“It does.” He squeezed your hand. “Really good, actually.” He watched you duck your head, looking down at your lap. “Thank you.” You raised your eyes back to his. “For everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” You shrugged. “I’m just…” Just what? “Just telling you the truth.” That feels good, too. “It’s sort of late, we should…” You looked at the clock, shoulders slumping. “You should get some sleep, you’ll be on a plane for most of tomorrow, and…” Benjamin moved quickly, throwing the pillow to the side and leaning toward you, his hand disappearing back into your hair, the other one behind you as he eased you into a horizontal position. He kissed you again, interrupting your words. I don’t want to think about that. His heart beating wildly in his chest, he finally pulled away from you to breathe.

“Who needs sleep?” He sighed. “There are better ways to spend my last night here.” The leg you had hooked over his tightened, and even though he could feel that the mood in the room had changed slightly, he was determined not to think about the following day. “Right?” He could feel you nodding your head, the hand that wasn’t trapped beneath your body and the bed reaching out for his chest, nails scratching over the center of it. Right.

---

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conrad-x-odair · 4 years ago

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( tom hiddleston, 38, cismale, he / him, (November 18th) Was that CONRAD ODAIR? I heard a rumor they work for the FAUST family, but who knows for sure ? They can be a bit SULLEN & TEMPERAMENTAL, but I also heard they can be CHARISMATIC & HONORABLE. You’ll usually find them at THE PINT in their spare time, when they’re not being an BLACK MARKET GUNSMITH & CARCANOS. You may want to keep an eye on that one !

“ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ? ɢᴏᴏᴅ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ꜱᴛᴏᴏᴅ ᴜᴘ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ”

- B A S I C -

Full Name: Conrad Barthelemy Odair Age: 38 Occupation: Black Market Gunsmith / Arm’s Dealer Frequented Locations: Port of Chicago, Tony’s Guns and Sporting Good, Cook’s Gun Range, Wolves, The Den, The Pint, Faust Manor Gang Affiliation: Faust Gang Role: Carcanos Birthday: November 18th Zodiac: Scorpio Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

- F A M I L Y -

Father: Edmund Odair (deceased) Mother: Ursula Harker-Odair (deceased) Sibling(s): Three younger sisters and a younger brother (22 - 36) Uncle: Patrick Harker (deceased) Children: 2 - Son, Ellis (7) & Daughter, Cora (3) Significant Other: Estranged Wife

- P E R S O N A L I T Y -

(+) Charismatic, Friendly, Amorous, Honorable, Persuasive (-) Pedantic, Neurotic, Temperamental, Resentful, Manipulative

- L I K E S / D I S L I K E S -

Globetrotting / Traveling

Hiking

Thrill Seeker - Reckless Driving (Need For Speed style), Cliff Climbing, B.A.S.E. Jumping, Skydiving, Free Soloing

Going to the gym

Going down to the shooting range

Tinkering with machinery and mechanics

Woodworking

Sketching

Day Drinking

Cooking

- B I O G R A P H Y -

Conrad was born in London, England and spent most of his earlier years there, alongside his four younger siblings and his parents, before eventually being sent to live in Chicago, IL.

His father, Edmund, owned a construction company and his mother, Ursula, was a housewife who also ran a hair salon side business from their home, so they weren’t exactly wealthy but they certainly got by just fine. His father’s company made pretty good money, more than enough to support the family of seven.

That, of course, changed when Conrad was fourteen. His father was tragically killed while on a job, when he accidentally lost his footing and fell from the eighth floor of a hotel he and his crew were in the process of building.

Edmund’s death devastated the family and it’s what inevitably tore them apart. Left with many bills and a lot of debt from her husband’s death and unable to cope with the stress of trying to support herself and her five children on her own meager salary, Ursula sent the oldest three of her children - Conrad and two of his sisters - to America, specifically Chicago, to live with her older brother, Patrick.

Life in America and with his uncle was...interesting and enlightening, to say the least, but by no means was it something he initially welcomed. As a young teenager, fresh of of mourning for his father and having just been shipped away by his mother - leaving him with the feeling of being abandoned by her - Conrad lost it. He developed severe anger, attachment and abandonment issues towards the world around him. He grew extremely close to his sisters, and oddly enough to his insanely strict uncle, but he had a hard time trusting anyone else outside of his now small family unit. He had very few friends and the friends he did have were not great influences.

He became unruly and reckless, daredevilling it through his teen years (and beyond) by chasing thrills and the accompanied adrenalin rush, while steadfastly ignoring all risks to himself and to others. He was a total speed demon and an acrophile (a lover of heights) - so he loved getting into his car and driving as fast as he possibly could, which resulted in a lot of reckless driving charges, and he would climb to the highest points of the city on dares from his friends just to spray paint stupid and immature messages where literally nobody else could see them - just to prove that he could and because he wasn’t afraid.

That wasn’t the only trouble he would get up to, however. He was often getting into fights, rebelling against every sort of authority figure who dared to try and curb his behavior, whilst acting impulsive and breaking many laws behind their backs by committing minor crimes like petty larceny and vandalism.

Conrad became a smug and very smart-assed delinquent and he reveled in it. Even getting arrested a few times and being forced under house arrest for six months and probation for another six, and having to serve community service didn’t deter his behavior - despite his uncle trying to beat some type of sense into his thick skull on many occasions.

It wasn’t until he got his first real job as a dockhand down at the Port of Chicago at 17 (forced upon him by his uncle), where he got introduced to the Faust gang and their illegal smuggling, that he learned to moderately quell his ‘I do what I want, when I want’ attitude. He eventually joined the gang, going through the initiation at 18.

He has been with the Fausts for going on 20 years now. He started out working mainly down at the port helping with loading and unloading shipments, although nowadays, his days as a mere longshoreman were pretty much over.

Sure, he was still heavily involved in the Fausts’ smuggling business, but he is mainly focused on gunsmithing for the Fausts and also selling his work on the black market.

He designs and hand-crafts all of his guns, and he also does gun repairs and makes custom modifications to them. Most, if not all, of the work he does is extremely illegal.

Conrad learned how to make guns from his uncle, Patrick, who had been an engineer and gunsmith for 40-odd years, having owned his own smithy and artillery repair shop.

Even though Conrad more or less mentored under his uncle when it came to learning the art of craft of firearms, that wasn’t to say that the old man himself was by any means a kind and gentle soul. Patrick Harker was very much an old school 'tough love' kind of guy, who was beyond strict and had no qualms with throwing fists and verbal punches and generally using a heavy hand whenever it came to dealing with his unruly nephew. Patrick had high expectations for Conrad, he saw the potential the young man had and refused to let him get away unpunished with his shitty behavior. He might not have gone about it the best way, but his intentions had certainly been good.

Despite Uncle Patrick’s rough handling and borderline abusive tendencies, Conrad eventually learned to greatly respect and appreciate the old man. He came to realize just how much the man actually cared for him - which turned out to be a lot more than his mother did...and that meant something.

Throughout his early and mid-20′s, Conrad spent most of his time working, honing his craft and of course charming his way through women.

He was a serial romantic - he loved and laid with more women than he could ever care to admit; the idea of settling down and actually committing to a single person for the rest of his life was something he truly abhorred.

That is, until he met his now estranged wife. He met her while at Faust party and there was just something about her that had him utterly smitten and forgetting all his previous reservations on relationships and long term commitments. The two got married within a year and a half and started a family of their own immediately.

Of course, it didn’t taken them long after their wedding to realize their relationship was perhaps not as healthy and happy as it should have been. Their lust blinded them from seeing just how incompatible they were for each other. With his still lingering attachment issues and terrible temper and her own stubborn and hotheadedness, their fights were often quite explosive. They loved each other, that much was obvious - and their attraction for the other was still intense and unmatched - but their clashing personalities were too volatile.

It was after the birth of their second and last child, Cora, that they finally called it quits. That was three years ago.

- W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S -

Toxic Estranged Wife (and casual hookup) - They’ve been separated or two and a half years. They have a strong love/hate relationship - their fights are often very intense and loud and leave the two of them extremely hurt and angry, and yet it usually ends with them in bed together somehow. Angry sex, passional sex, lust-filled. They do love each other, but at the end of the day their relationship was fueled more by their lust than any other actual feelings. It was definitely not healthy, and so for their children’s sake and also for themselves, they decided to separate. Still married for the time being, but no longer living together.

Younger Sisters / brother - Conrad has three sisters and one younger brother. Two of his sisters (the oldest two - between the ages of 32-35) came with him to Chicago when he was 14, while the youngest sister and his brother (between the ages of 24-28) never left England. Conrad is very close with the first two, but has no real relationship with the youngest siblings.

Flings / One-Nighters

Love Interest(s)

Faust Affiliates

Rival Gang / Enemies

Drinking Buddies

Best Friends / Friends

ANY AND ALL CONNECTIONS! I’m open and down to do whatever!

#crimson.intro #this probably has like #a million typos #but i'm posting it anyways because it's taking me #way too long to finish

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flipsideds · 4 years ago

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it’s all run amuck.

a server’s dropped two trays of fresh-baked scones, and the confections litter the floor like fallen leaves, purple-pink icing making the banquet hall look less like the site of a charity benefit and more like the streets of chilham mid-fall. it lights nostalgia beneath his ribs, and flip finds his lips tugging into a wistful smile.

but then a penguin-prettied guest clears his throat and arches a bristly brow.

“ right then, ” flip says with a curt nod. he clasps his hands, gaze sweeping one final dance across the sugar speckled floor. “ i’ll see to some replacements for you. ” he forces a gentle smile –– the chasm between the man’s brows only deepens.

amuck indeed.

flip glides toward the kitchen. he’s a smooth-sailing afternoon cloud; light. airy. bloody nervous.

oh, dear.

flip allan bell has a case of the collywobbles, theodore, his old assistant would tease whenever he’d drop a bowl, tray, or spoon. the best baker’s hand he’d been, that one. it’s a shame he ––

flip blinks. thinks of flames, of ink black smoke. then tries not to think about anything at all.

quick fingers collect ingredients, combine. get to kneading. in here, there’s no clammer. no crowd. just sugar, butter, flour. a baffled baker’s best friend. he’ll forget the chaos, for a little while. he’ll close his eyes as he brings cherry compote to a simmer, and think of home.

or, alternatively : greetings loved ones!! my name is linc ( 21 / est / she/her ) and here is the ever so lovely, ever so flighty phillip allan bell !

below the cut you’ll find a messy run-down of who he is, where he’s come from, and where he’s headed. i am so excited to write with all of you !! he’s fresh out of the oven ( just ask nika ) so i am head over heels for watching him grow in the windy city !

toss on some nat king cole, julie london, billie holiday, chet baker & let’s get cookin’.

— && guests may mistake me as david corenswet, but really i am phillip "flip" allan bell + cis male + he/him/his and my DOB is 02/29/1992. i am applying for the banquet manager position as part of the EHP and would like to live in suite 201. i should be hired because i am + breezy, expressive, peaceable, but i can also be flighty, perplexed, vacillant at times. personally, i like to bake sweets, not hum along to nat king cole while dancing around my flat alone, and most certainly never wear trousers that are just a bit too short to show off my eccentric sock collection when off the clock, but that won’t interfere with work. thank you for your consideration!

h i s t o r y .

born in the small english village of chilham, phillip allan bell never knew his parents––but they took great care in stapling a note with his name, birthday, and favorite color to the blanket he was found swaddled in on the steps of the local market. ( phillip allan. 29 february. needs green. ) or, at least, that’s how flip tells the story. it’s unclear whether or not his parents’ chicken scratch called for green the color, or green the currency.

when phillip started speaking, he couldn’t properly say his own name. hence the nickname flip was born. the other children in the group home took to it easily, so the single-syllable stuck.

he spent the majority of his childhood in and out of foster homes throughout kent, always returning to the same group home after intervals of six months to a year. he began helping in the kitchen early on, so he became known as flip baker –– whether in foster care or the care of group home supervisors, flip always came to dinner with a new sweet treat for the others to try. people wouldn’t want to end their time fostering him because they loved the food. but in the end, the poor boy wouldn’t be adopted. reasons tended to ring much the same, “ oh, he’s lovely, really. what a sweetheart. just a bit too nervous for us, we’re afraid. ”

in fact, nervousness colored most of flip’s young life. from loud noises to spiders to fitting in, his mind always spun about endless possibilities –– quite rarely the good ones. the kitchen was the only place he truly quieted this tendency. he baked and cooked with steady hand, when he was alone. other folks in the kitchen with him would disrupt that cadence, but flip was never one to complain. he’d just fumble a bit, laugh nervously, and move along. he’s a remarkable chef –– and the kitchen always has ample marks to prove it.

shortly after turning 16, flip relocated to london. an older couple agreed to foster and adopt him as their own, but that stability was short-lived. they perished in an apartment fire just two months later. their youngest son, theodore, agreed to take him under his wing. at only 18, the two boys became fast friends. when flip decided to open his own bakery, theodore offered to be his assistant. from then on, the sweet by & by was born.

the bakery quickly rose to fame in the london area. people traveled from far and wide to try the legendary fruit scones, fresh cakes, and scrumptious sourdough. the bbc did a feature on the bakery for one of their london food series, and the sweet by & by began attracting tourists for something more than its treats : its adorably frenetic baker. the kitchen was always spotted, his cheeks always dotted with icing or sugar. but he’d always greet customers with a molten-honey smile. tender green eyes. for years, the bakery prospered. flip prospered. he rose early to bake. he and theodore experimented with new recipes, danced around the kitchen to billie holiday, nat king cole... things were brilliant. radiant. whole. and then came the fire.

( tw: fire, death ) it happened while on a morning that was... well. most unusual. typically, flip and theodore would open the bakery together––3am sharp. they’d start preparing the day’s fresh goods, oldies playing softly on the stereo around them. but this september day in particular started off like no other: with theodore opening. alone. flip had stayed the night at one of his friends’ flats, unplanned. they’d hosted a housewarming party, and broken out his kryptonite: good bourbon. he’d drank more than his fill, and shot a text to theodore asking if it’d be alright if he started out the next day on his own. theodore agreed with a cheeky reply, getting some, are you, flip? right! as if. both men thought nothing of it. the opening, the slight shift in daily pattern. flip would be in by noon and business would carry on as usual. except flip always handled the faulty oven. on this particular morning, the device’s... quirks... slipped theodore’s mind. it took twenty minutes for the wires to start smoking. thirty minutes before theodore, swirling about the countertops with earbuds in, realized something was burning. on september 30, 2020 the sweet by & by burnt to the ground. and three days later, by smoke inhalation, it took flip’s dearest friend with it.

and that’s how it goes, innit? the story? the heartache? standing on the corner of upland and darrell road dressed in his funeral tie, squinting through scorched brick and metal like maybe, maybe if he stared hard enough, theodore, alive and well, might rise from the ashes. he didn’t. he didn’t, and flip visited the property each day for a week until he realized... he never would. he sorted through theodore’s personal affects. finally started his adopted surname, bell, as his own. he appeased reporters, for a little while. told the story, expressed how much he’d miss his best friend. his brother. but what about the bakery?, they’d ask. what about the sweet by & by? in the last interview flip ever did for the local stations, he reckoned perhaps that chapter, however sweet, was now meant to close. somewhere, online, there’s footage of him blinking through tears. twisting theo’s favorite ring around his own middle finger. green –– tsavorite. it means compassion, theodore had explained one night, after closing up. after they’d snatched a pint at the local pub and meandered on home. benevolence. beauty. somewhere, online, a reporter asks flip about that very stone. somewhere, online, flip pretends he didn’t hear it.

then came the bubble wrapping. the cardboard, packing tape. fingers rubbed raw from crinkling tape around itself, tearing it off, starting again. after theodore’s services, after relinquishing the bakery property to dulwich, flip packs his bags. he buys himself a nap, a pack of werther’s originals, and flees across the sea.

to chicago. the windy city. it’s always been circled on theodore’s map of america. that’s one i’d like to see someday, he’d say over a glass of bourbon. reckon they’re as tough as they seem? flip would always shrug, take a sip of his own drink. he didn’t know. but now? now, he would. on the plane, he spins theodore’s ring around his middle finger. even when he falls asleep, his forefinger and thumb stay there, shielding.

his initial thought is... perhaps he’ll open a bakery. but with the financial losses from the blaze, flip knows better than to embark on such an undertaking. so he does the responsible thing –– he finds a respectable job, at a respectable inn. the american experience, he hears theodore croon in the back of his mind, as he fills out his application. he’s jet lagged, distracted –– he doesn’t realize he’s checked the wrong box until the material’s been sent. and then he gets it. a banquet manager. oh, dear –– he hasn’t the faintest idea where to begin.

d i s p o s i t i o n .

born on a leap year. meaning he’s 28. but also 7.

for real footage of how flip handles himself in the kitchen, or just in general, check out this video. do i watch it daily? yes. did it inspire the general framework for flip’s frenetic kitchen tendencies? ...maybe. the chief difference lies in the result. things may crash and burn. it might look like it’s about to fall apart. but he always, always pulls it into a beautiful success.

he’s got a very deep-seated fear of fire. he’ll light candles in his flat only to flinch and snuff them out. if someone in the kitchen cooks with wine or vinegar and the skillet bursts into flame, he’ll look as though he’s seen a ghost. and he believes he’s subtle about it; oh, he truly does. but anyone with two eyes and a brain can piece together this man is very uneasy around flames.

he’s moved here with truly no plan, beyond experiencing chicago in all its glory, to make good on theodore’s dream. but as glorious and exciting as that is, he’s petrified. please help him.

there’s... a lot of unresolved traumas and sadness regarding his childhood. the bell family was the first to truly see him and give him, in all his anxious entirety, a chance. losing his last link to them has been... difficult, to say the least.

he’s a sucker for oldie music. god. it transports him. you can frequently find him in the malnati kitchens after hours whipping up something beautiful to a background of billie holiday or french classics. humming along, eyes closed, swaying... he’s graceful, truly –– when he’s not thinking about anything.

very terrible about crushes. very terrible about crushes on him. flirting sends his brain into overdrive and... often, he short-circuits. ask him a question about himself he isn’t expecting and he’ll handle it kindly, but will look like a deer in headlights.

amendment: more often than not looks like a deer in headlights.

peaceful at his core. but with the ruckus and the world raging around him, there’s always something more to worry about. if he gives you winnie the pooh vibes, it typically means he’s spinning.

he has a very delightful way of managing, mostly because he’s scared shitless of people being mean. he handles every blip and bump with ease. but inside? he’s fretting.

amendment: most often, he’s fretting. very little quiets his mind. baking, maybe. you can tell he’s having a shit time if he shows up unannounced with endless supplies of new recipes.

adores poetry. he likes reading in public spaces, people watching. he’ll often mouth the words to himself, brow furrowed, eyes lighting like he’s seeing suns rise and fall for the first time.

he’s been in love once in his life. her name was georgie. she was the epitome of breathlessness, milky sunlight, espresso brewed on a crisp morning. she was... not who he thought she was. ( she cheated, after two years of time spent together. he found them out, on a date, on an impromptu trip to brixton market for fresh supplies. )

pansexual and very aware of it. he’s in denial about people fancying him. but he very frequently develops small admirations for people, from afar.

6′4, very tall. his pants are always a slight bit too short. if you tell him, he’ll act surprised, the beautifully eccentric socks peeking out from underneath will suggest otherwise.

he’s never had a s’more. he can’t tell if he’s more intrigued or scared by the thought of them.

doesn’t like birds, particularly ones that swoop low. ( there’ve been incidents. ) he also doesn’t take a great liking to men in tall hats. ( another incident. )

make fun of his accent please i beg you. he does not know how to handle it. he’ll stammer and chuckle and it’ll be bloody amazing, i promise you.

c o n n e c t i o n s .

MAGNOLIA BARNES –– friend. they met during her time in london. neither of them are aware they’re in the same city now, let alone the same hotel. i imagine flip hasn’t told her about the bakery yet. it hasn’t really made news outside of england, so that will certainly be... a story to tell.

FLIRTATIONSHIP / SOMETHING MORE –– just imagine this nervous little bean navigating a new love connection... please... he’ll be a mess.

TOUR GUIDES –– ever wanted to show someone your version of chicago? now’s your chance! flip is so bloody new to this place. he gets lost almost always.

CONFIDANT –– they talk about anything and everything. perhaps not all of it. but there’s an unspoken trust between them. they likely met in the most unlikely of ways, and here we are now.

literally anything under the sun? oh my WORD it has been an epoch since i’ve rped and i’m just. here for any of it. all of it. cute neighbor shit. mailroom mishaps. friends. enemies. someone who keeps sneaking the last of the lobby mints. i want anything you want to throw at me!!

#death tw #fire tw #malnatiooc #intro.#☼ –– there’s a feeling within me; an everglow ! inspo.#ahhh i'm sO EXCITE

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princesssarisa · 4 years ago

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22 questions

Thanks, @cinefantastiquemitho!

01. The book that transformed your life. Freak the Mighty. It traumatized me so much in middle school, I think it singlehandedly changed me from a mostly happy (if quiet and overemotional) child into a moody, anxious teenager. The same goes for it’s ‘90s movie adaptation, The Mighty, starring a young Elden Henson and Kieran Culkin. It’s about the unlikely friendship between two misfit middle school boys: Max, the big, hulking, “stupid,” somewhat mentally disabled protagonist with a traumatic past, and “Freak,” an intelligent yet small, severely crippled, and (spoiler alert) terminally ill boy who rides on Max’s shoulders and serves as his “brain,” leading him in modeling their lives after the knights in the Arthurian legends he reads. Basically, it’s like Bridge to Terabithia meets a PG-rated Midnight Cowboy with Arthurian themes. I was forced to read it and watch the movie in school and it shook me to the core because I identified too much with Max. Not that I ever thought I was stupid, but since I was also a physically heavy, intellectually disabled, socially awkward, often teased, withdrawn misfit, I saw myself in him, very, very much. So to watch his struggles, and then in the end to see him devastated by his only friend’s death, hit hard. If that spirit medium I recently talked to was telling the truth about my past life as Emily Brontë’s best and possibly only friend, then maybe subconsciously I saw her in Freak (since she was also a “freakish” misfit who nonetheless was highly intelligent, witty and imaginative) and relived her illness and death in his. At any rate, it plunged me into a long depression that must have seemed inexplicable to the adults around me.

02. The movie that changed your way of seeing the world. The 1983 telecast of Madama Butterfly from the Arena di Verona, starring Raina Kabaivanska as Cio-Cio-San. In hindsight, it was a flawed production. Kabaivanska was a 49-year-old Bulgarian grand dame, not the least bit convincing as a 15-year-old Japanese girl. The tenor, who was supposed to be her worldly seducer, was young enough to be her son. There wasn’t a single Japanese person in either the cast or the creative team – it was all a European fantasy of Japan. For that matter, Madama Butterfly is inherently problematic with its racial and gender issues (in other news, water is wet). But watching this old telecast on VHS, out of curiosity about Miss Saigon’s source material, was the real beginning of my passion for opera. I was already familiar with The Magic Flute, but this was the start of my love for opera beyond that one. The tragic romance of the story, the visual beauty of the sets and costumes, and Puccini’s sumptuous musical score captivated my fourteen-year-old self. It led me to VHSs of La Traviata, Carmen, La Bohéme, Tosca, Rigoletto, Les Contes d’Hoffmann, L’Orfeo and Turandot, as well as other videos of Butterfly, and then to opera performances onstage. It gave me a new passion and gave me something beautiful to share with other people through “Opera Quest,” the program I’ve created to introduce opera to elementary school students. I’m so, so grateful to it!

03. The music that makes part of the soundtrack of your life. Opera, Broadway/West End show tunes, and Disney songs.

04. Define longing. It’s wanting, but deeper and stronger. It’s constant wanting, painful wanting, wanting that almost becomes obsession.

05. If you got back in time, which scene would you visit of your life? Any of my Thanksgiving visits to my grandma in Mesa, Arizona. Of course I’d love to see her again – she died 12 years ago – but I also loved wandering around the pretty retirement community where she lived, listening to Les Misérables or to Andrew Lloyd Webber on my headphones, and then sometimes swimming in the outdoor pool. I also loved the restaurant we always went to for Thanksgiving dinner, and if possible, going to see the lavish Christmas lights at the Mormon Temple a day or two later.

06. The place where your heart is. Los Angeles. Even though I wasn’t born there, it’s the earliest place I remember. I grew up there and it’s only been four years since I moved away. Every time I’ve gone back to visit since, I I’ve had the overwhelming feeling of “I’m home!” Even though I’m glad not to be living in a big city right now, I wish I lived closer and could visit more often.

07. The travel of your life. I haven’t travelled very much outside the US, though I have been to Canada, London and Ireland. Within the US, I was born in Connecticut, I’ve lived most of my life in California, and I’ve spent a lot of time in New York (relatives live there), Washington State (more relatives live there), Arizona (my grandma lived there), Florida (other grandparents, plus Walt Disney World), Montana (still more relatives), North Carolina (still more), and Minnesota (family friends). Once each I’ve been to Chicago, Boston, Cape Cod, and small towns in Vermont and New Hampshire, and I’d love to go back to each of them one day. I’ve also been to North Dakota, but don’t remember it very well, and I’ve spent at least a few hours each in Las Vegas and Salt Lake City, but not long enough to do much of anything.

08. An author that you have met recently, and whose works you want to continue to read. Not too long ago I took a writing class taught by April Halprin Wayland, who wrote the beautiful Jewish children’s book New Year at the Pier about the tradition of Tashlich on Rosh Hashanah. I’d definitely like to read more of her books, especially her Passover children’s book, More Than Enough. I’d love buy them for my little cousins on the Jewish side of my family.

09. Coffee or tea? Herbal tea. Rooibos chai is my favorite.

10. Who's your Doctor (if you don't watch Doctor Who, who's your favorite character from a TV series)? I couldn’t say. I don’t watch Doctor Who or much TV at all anymore. Let’s just say I love the main characters from all the TV shows I watched when I was little.

11. If you could just throw everything away and live your dream, what would you do? I’d buy a safe and luxurious self-driving RV (this is a fantasy, after all) and travel all over the US, living in a different place for a week, two weeks, or a month at a time. In this fantasy, there’s no pandemic going on, so I have the freedom to go anywhere. I’d visit every big city, every cozy small town, and every notable place of natural beauty, I’d go to the opera and see local productions of Les Misérables wherever I could. I’d visit my relatives whenever I liked. I’d present “Opera Quest” at a local school in each place I visited. But I’d also spend plenty of alone time in my RV, or in whatever hotel or inn I chose to stay in for a little while, and work on the books I’m writing, listen to music and meditate. There would be no pressure on me from anyone to do anything. That would be amazing.

12. If you could choose to be a character from a book, TV series or movie, who you would be? None. Some of them have nice lives, but they all have their problems too, and I’d rather keep my own problems than take on theirs.

13. What makes you not like a story? Characters we’re supposed to like being cruel and spiteful to each other and neither regretting it nor being properly called out for it. If their behavior is clearly supposed to be bad and treated as such within the story, it’s one thing. Even if they never regret their own behavior, that’s fine as long as the other characters call it out as bad. But when they don’t, I feel like the author is saying that anyone would be just as cruel and spiteful in that situation. That it’s no big deal, it’s just human nature and anything better would be unrealistic. I hate that.

14. Do you like romance in stories? Why? Yes, I do like it. Not if it’s badly written, but when it’s well written, I love it. I love watching two characters come to care so deeply for each other, fill each other’s deepest needs and bring each other happiness. Of course that happens with platonic love too, but romance is the way it most often happens in stories.

15. Which book did you hate having read? Well, I didn’t like having to read Candide as a college freshman, because despite all its humor, it’s cynicism depressed me. I was going through a stage where I was feeling overwhelmed by the world’s problems and had turned to idealistic spiritual beliefs to comfort myself, so I hated having to read a book that essentially said “Optimism is stupid, the world is a terrible place, there is no God and no good reason for anything, and all we can do is try to make the best of our individual lives.” (Yes, I know that’s a vast oversimplification of Voltaire’s philosophy – it just came across that way to me at the time.)

16. Which movie did you hate having watched? I’ve already mentioned The Mighty, above, so... another one... When I was seven or eight, I saw Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory for the first time, and I was very disturbed at the end by Wonka’s angry outburst about Charlie and Grandpa Joe stealing the Fizzy Lifting Drinks. Of course everyone can agree about how scary and mean Gene Wilder acts in that scene. But imagine how much worse it would be to an ultra-sensitive little kid on the autism spectrum, especially since I wasn’t expecting it. I had read the original book already, so the fates of the four bratty kids and the infamous boat scene didn’t phase me because I knew to expect them. But movie-Wonka’s final test is a movie-only addition, so I had no idea he was going to start screaming at poor Charlie, and to me at that age, an adult suddenly screaming in rage at a child was scarier than a child turning into a blueberry any day. Yes, it’s only a test, Charlie passes it and all ends happily, but it still upset me.

17. Do you like anime/manga? Any favorite? It all looks very nice, but apart from seeing Kiki’s Delivery Service and a few episodes of Pokemon as a kid, I haven’t experienced much of it. Maybe I should explore it more.

18. Who is the best villain you saw in a story? I don’t think I can choose just one from all the stories I know. For the best villain from Shakespeare and opera, I’d probably have to say Iago, because of how thoroughly effective his scheming and manipulation are. For the best Disney villain, I’d have to say Frollo, because of how horribly realistic he is: as an abuser of power, a racist, a religious bigot, a sexual predator, a psychologically abusive foster parent, and in the way he believes everything he does is holy and right. But there are so many good villains in all genres of fiction, choosing just one favorite is impossible.

19. If you could do an interview with any person, alive or dead, from our world, who would you choose and why? William Shakespeare. I have so many questions about his plays. They’ve all been interpreted in hundreds of different ways and I’d like to hear what his real intentions were when he wrote them. And for that matter, if he really did write all of them or if there’s any truth in the anti-Stratfordian theories.

20. If you could meet and and befriend a writer, who would it be? I just said Shakespeare, but I don’t want to repeat the same answer twice... Well, if that spirit medium was right, then I’ve already met and befriended three famous writers in a past life: Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë. Supposedly I spent “many hours” with all three of them, but was especially close to Emily. If that’s true, then I’d love to meet them again, do some catching up, and talk with them about the modern controversies surrounding their books... especially Wuthering Heights, which seems to defy easy interpretations of its characters and themes.

21. Cats or dogs? Dogs. I just adore them!

22. If you could choose any time period or society to live, which it would be? A year ago, I would have said “right here, right now.” But with this global pandemic taking place and the future of the world and of America in particular feeling so uncertain, I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather live in one of the fantasy worlds I’ve created: either the Sisterhood of Nira’s valley (the setting of my completed but unpublished novel An Eternal Crown) or Zalina Island (the setting of the Beauty and the Beast and Little Mermaid retellings I’m working on). Those places might have flaws of their own, but at least they’ve made social progress that this country hasn’t made, and they have magic too. If I could I’d move to one of them, at least until the pandemic is over and we have a new president.

I tag @simone-boccanegra, @astrangechoiceoffavourites, @nitrateglow, @thatvermilionflycatcher, @sunlit-music, @theheightsthatwuthered, @fairychamber, @wuthering-valleys

#questions #about me

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thebrideofthewizardhowl · 4 years ago

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The origins of synchronized swimming came about from life-saving and swimming techniques. It expanded as a sport when ornamental swimming and theatrical water ballets were popularized at the end of the 19th century. The first synchronized swimming competitions took place in Berlin in 1891 and London in 1892.

Contests were originally solely for men but it was soon recognized that artistic swimming was better fitted to women who were overall more buoyant, in particular in the legs. The major influence on pushing synchronized swimming to be recognized as a sport came from Canada. In 1934, the Quebec provincial championship for figure and stroke competition was held in Montreal and leading Canadian diver Margaret Sellers won the first official national championship in performing figures and strokes.

Synchronized swimming also gained popularity as a sport in American colleges. For example, Katherine Curtis set up a water ballet club at the University of Chicago in 1923 where she took a group of 60 swimmers, labelled “The Modern Mermaids”, to participate at the 1934 World Fair in Chicago. This is when the term “synchronized swimming” was first addressed to a wide audience and the phrase caught on.

Synchronized swimming became increasingly technical and athletic throughout the 20th century as music began to support acts. Synchronized swimming was introduced into the Olympics as a demonstration sport from 1952 and 1968. Its first official global scale competition was undertaken in the Pan-American Games in Mexico in 1955 where there were, solo, duel and team events in which the US triumphed in all. Synchronized swimming has been featuring in the FINA World Championships from the very first one in Belgrade in 1973 and it finally made its debut as an Olympic sport in the 1984 Los Angeles Olympic Games.

The pool must be at least 20m wide x 30m long, and at least 2.5m deep. One area, 12x12m or larger, must be at least 3m deep and the slope between the change in depths has to be completed over a distance of 8m or less.

Playing Environment

Synchronized swimming is played in a specially designed pool. The water in the pool must be clean and the temperature of the water must be around 25 degree Celsius. The size of the pool must be a minimum of 20m by 30m, and within that a 12m by 12m area must be at least 3 m deep.

Let us now discuss the equipment used in synchronized swimming.

Nose clip

In synchronized swimming, the athletes have to perform a lot of underwater movements. There are chances of water entering into the nose of the players. In order to avoid that, the athletes use a small clip of hard plastic or wire. It also has a thin rubber coating.

Goggles

Goggles provide safety to the eyes. Due to underwater movement, water may enter in the eyes. It is important to note that the goggles are not allowed for routine competitions.

Athletes can use goggles only for trainings. This is only used for figure test. Like goggles, athletes also cannot use the bathing caps during routine competitions. During figure test, only a white or black bathing cap is worn by athletes.

Underwater Speakers

The most important equipment for synchronized swimming is the underwater speakers. Swimmers cannot perform under water if the music is not audible. Music plays an important role in synchronized swimming because it is a rhythmic sport.

We know that impedance of water is 3600 times more than that of air. There is also a 62 dB (decibel) offset between the sound that travels in air and that in water. To overcome this problem, the underwater speakers used in synchronized swimming depend on Piezoelectric Technology.

Swimsuit

One of the most important aspects of the swimsuit is that it must be comfortable for the athletes and it must be non-transparent. During the figure test, a black swimsuit is recommended for the athletes and during routine competition, a routine suit for each athlete that suits the music is recommended.

It may also happen that athletes perform in two events like duet and team event. In such a situation, the athletes will be provided with two different swimsuits.

The basic skills you will need in synchronized swimming is sculling and treading water with a kick called the "eggbeater". There are also many positions that you can learn to combine into a routine. Additionally, there is an element known as “lifts” in synchronized swimming, where swimmers create a structure of sorts with their bodies and lift themselves from the water in the same form they created underwater.

Sculls

Sculls are hand movements used to propel the body and are essential to synchronized swimming. Some commonly used sculls are support, standard, torpedo, split-arm, barrel and paddle scull. The support scull is most often used and is made up of two repeated movements. You need to hold your upper arms against your body and your forearms at 90-degree angles. Then, you move your forearms back and forth to create enough water pressure to hold your legs above the water.

Eggbeater

This move is much like how a manual eggbeater works, with one leg rotating in a clockwise manner and rotating the other leg in an anti-clockwise manner. Synchronized swimmers use this kick because it leaves their hands free to perform strokes. Due to the opposite motion of the kick, it is a stable and efficient way for swimmers to attain the necessary height to perform moves above the water.

Positions

There are hundreds of positions that can be used to create infinite combinations. The six most common positions are illustrated below.

Crane Position - Hold your body in a vertical position with one leg held vertically above the water surface, while the other leg is held parallel under the surface in a 90-degree angle or "L" shape.

Ballet Leg Double Position - From lying flat on the water surface, draw your knees towards your chest with shins parallel to the water surface. Straighten your legs above the water surface to assume a Surface Ballet Leg Double position.

Side Fishtail Position - This is a position similar to the crane. One leg remains vertical, while the other is extended to the side parallel to the water, creating a side "Y" position.

Knight Position -The body is held vertically with your head in line with the hips and pointed to the bottom of the pool. One leg is lowered to create a vertical line perpendicular to the surface.

Flamingo Position - Similar to the ballet leg position where the bottom leg is pulled into the chest so that the shin of the bottom leg is touching the knee of the vertical leg.

Split Position - With the body vertical, one leg is stretched forward along the surface and the other leg is extended back along the surface.

Lifts

Lifts are formations that are formed underwater and as swimmers propel themselves towards the surface, they stay in formation and add more elements like acrobatics. There are three parts to a lift in synchronized swimming: The Flyer, the Base and the Pushers.

The Flyer - Flyers are agile and flexible and are usually the smallest member of the team. It is preferable that they have a gymnastics background as they need to perform complicated moves while on the top of the formation.

The Base - Base swimmers tends to be small in size, but should have good leg strength and a solid core as they make up the structure of the formation.

The Pushers - Pushers are the bigger and stronger swimmers because they need the strength to propel the formation to the water surface.

Types of Lifts

The Platform Lift - The base lays out in a back layout position underwater, where they lie on their back to form a platform of interlinked bodies. The Flyer sets in a squatting position and stands once the lift reaches the surface. The remaining teammates use the eggbeater kicks to hold the platform and the flyer out of the water.

The Stack Lift - Considered to be an updated version of the Platform, the Stack Lift begins with the base squatting while underwater, supported by the pushers. The flyer then stands on the shoulders of the base. The pushers and base gradually stretch out their limbs, elevating the flyer. A rotating descent is usually added to this lift.

While there are a range of rules and penalties for specific routines, the basic rules of artistic swimming are displayed below.

RULES:

No Touching The Bottom

One of the things which makes the lifts all the more impressive is that artistic swimmers are not allowed to touch the bottom of the pool at any point during their routines.

No Bling

Presentation is a unique and important part of artistic swimming but there are certain restrictions on what swimmers can wear. For example, artistic swimmers are not permitted jewelry, theatrical make-up, or inappropriate costumes.

No Goggles

Another restriction during artistic swimming routines is goggles. However, swimmers in figures competitions are permitted to wear them.

Team Means Team

Teams normally contain eight swimmers, but the minimum number for a team is four. Teams lose marks for every swimmer they have under the full complement because it is easier to synchronize the fewer people there are in a routine.

Stick To The Schedule

Routines can be anything from two and a half minutes to five minutes long, depending on whether they are performed alone or as part of a team. However, swimmers are penalized if they take 15 seconds fewer or longer than the specified time.

Officials

Officials play a critical role in the sport of artistic swimming. Not only do they facilitate the scoring during competitions, they support athlete selection activities in high performance programs and lend support to clubs in their athlete development programs and routine preparation.

Artistic Swimming judges - are essential for running artistic swimming competitions as they provide scores based on the performance of each routine. They are also responsible for marking grade level assessments. To reduce the level of subjectivity in scoring, all Artistic Swimming judges must be expertly-trained. They require a full understanding of FINA and Swim England’s rules and regulations for artistic swimming competitions. To maintain their qualification or progress, all judges must officiate at a certain number of grade assessments and competitions.

3 levels of Artistic Swimming judge in England

Level 1

Candidates must be 16 years old to take the level 1 judge course. They will be qualified to judge at level 1 and 2 competitions.

Course content will include:

· Use of marking scales

· Develop understanding of basic movements and positions

· Able to identify Figures in current age groups (12U and 13/14/15)

· Ethics

· Develop knowledge and understanding of Free Routines

· Knowledge of Grade 1 and 2 criteria and assessment criteria

Level 2

Candidates must have been a level 1 judge for at least a year. They will be qualified to judge at regional competitions at the National Age Group Championships.

· In-depth knowledge of Junior Figures (15-18 years)

· Develop knowledge of rules and penalties

· Develop knowledge of NVT, difficulty values and application to figures. Application of deductions to figures

· Exposure to variety of level of figures and scores

· Knowledge and awareness of Grade 3/4/5 criteria

· Further analysis of Free Routines – range of level of routines, recognition of difficulty

Level 3

Candidates must have been a level 2 judge for at least a year. They will be qualified to judge at the National Championships.

· Further knowledge about rules, penalties and organization

· In-depth knowledge about judging Figures and component parts

· Further develop knowledge and aptitude regarding judging Free Routines

· Awareness of Grade 6 criteria (once established)

· In-depth knowledge of technical elements across solos, duets and team

Citations:

https://www.swimming.org/artistic-swimming/artistic-swimming-judge-training/#:~:text=Artistic%20Swimming%20judges%20are%20essential,judges%20must%20be%20expertly%2Dtrained.

https://resources.fina.org/fina/document/2021/02/03/4d9cd6d0-5146-44ae-bf94-4ac757eaf34b/fina_as_manual_-_updated_august_2018_0.pdf

https://www.bcartisticswimming.ca/programs/officials.htm

https://www.swimming.org/artistic-swimming/artistic-swimming-moves/

https://www.swimming.org/artistic-swimming/introduction-to-artistic-swimming/

https://tokyo2020.org/en/sports/artistic-swimming/

https://www.myactivesg.com/Sports/Aquatics/How-To-Play/Synchronised-Swimming/Basic-skills-and-positions-in-Synchronised-Swimming#:~:text=The%20basic%20skills%20you%20will,to%20combine%20into%20a%20routine.

https://www.swimoutlet.com/guides/synchronized-swimming-pool-dimensions#:~:text=The%20pool%20must%20be%20at%20least%2020m%20wide%20x%2030m,distance%20of%208m%20or%20less.

https://www.tutorialspoint.com/synchronized_swimming/synchronized_swimming_equipment.htm

https://www.swimming.org/artistic-swimming/artistic-swimming-moves/

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niall-is-my-dream · 5 years ago

Text

Lost Without You - Part Ten

So this is the last part! Thanks to everyone who has read, liked and reblogged this. I appreciate it!

2460 words

But thanks to @beardedniall for helping me.

Catch up below

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/186235732118/lost-without-you-masterlist

6 weeks later

Walking into your flat a week before Christmas felt strange. You dragged your two suitcases one by one up the stairs, and dumped them in the hallway. Removing your coat you realised how warm the flat felt, making your way to the kitchen you saw a note above the thermostat.

"Put the heat and the hot water on for you, hope it was ok that I used the spare key. Put some bits in the fridge and cupboards for you too. Pop in for a coffee and a catch up when you're free. Audrey. X"

Oh love her. Audrey was too good to you. You felt an overwhelming urge to see Audrey and embrace her and her familiar smell. Remembering how it gave you a feeling of home.

You weren't going back to your parents for another week so you had planned on last minute Christmas shopping and spending some time with Audrey, Jess and Hannah. There would be plenty of time to see your parents, your brother his wife and your nieces. Niall wouldn't be back until the 23rd which was still five days away.

When you opened the fridge you found butter, cheese, milk and some ready meals. The cupboard had bread, crumpets, some crisps and some snacks. You also found your fruit bowl full. You couldn't believe the trouble she had gone through for you. It also meant you could have a shower straight away rather than waiting for the water to heat up. Which is exactly what you needed.

Opening one of your suitcases you found some pjs and your toiletries. Stripping off your clothes you stepped in the hot shower washing away your day of packing and travelling. You dressed in your pjs and one of Niall's hoodies before heading to the kitchen and popping a meal in the microwave.

With the meal on your lap and the tv talking to no one, you browsed through your social media whilst you ate. A FaceTime call from Niall interrupted your meal, and you smiled. Swiping to answer it, you saw his face come onto the screen.

"Hey beautiful." He said smiling. He was sitting on a navy blue sofa with a plain white wall behind him. You knew he was in Chicago for one of the Jingle Ball shows, so you assumed he was in a hotel room or dressing room.

"Hey yourself." You replied, smiling at his cute christmassy jumper.

"How was your trip back?" He asked.

"It was ok, quick and easy flight. Not long been home, I've just showered and got ready for bed."

"Glad to be home love?"

"Yeah I am, feels weird actually!"

"Nice hoodie by the way. Been looking for that for weeks!" He replied with a smirk.

"I may have nicked it from you when you visited me." You grinned back. "It still smells like you a bit."

"Won't be long now petal, five more days. I'll do the last show in Miami and then I'll fly home straight away after. So I'll see you on Monday 23rd sometime. Not sure what time my flight lands yet."

"Ok the plan is still for me to go to my parents on Christmas Eve sometime, I can pick my hire car up anytime from 12. Is your flight to Ireland still around that time?"

"Yeah, 1:40 something I think. I don't know I'm rubbish."

"It's why you have Tara!"

"True." He laughed in reply.

You heard a knock and a click of a door and saw Niall look up and across the room. The room he was in suddenly became noisy and a familiar voice could be heard amongst the crowd.

"You still talking to your lovely wee lass?!" You heard Lewis ask.

"I am." Niall replied with a smirk.

Lewis popped himself down on the sofa and his face crept into view. You felt yourself blush and prayed you wouldn't fan girl over him again. It had been bad enough when you'd done it six months ago on your first date with Niall.

"There she is!" Lewis said. "This Irish heartthrob has been talking about you all day, said he needed to come talk to you make sure you got home ok."

"Did he now?!" You laughed.

"Yep! Been going on and on about you!"

"Hey give it a rest!" Niall said and you could see him blushing.

"Oh look, he's blushing now. Been saying how much he loves you and how he can't wait to come home to you so he can make sweet love to you all Christmas!"

"Mate! What the fuck?!" Niall shaking his head. "He's drunk. Just ignore him!"

"Don't deny it now Niall, no need to get embarrassed! And I'm not drunk!" Lewis grinned.

"Fuck off!" Niall smiled back.

"How was your trip back anyway Emma?" Lewis asked.

"It was ok thankyou."

"Good, alright I'll let you love birds have your phone sex and I'll catch you in what three minutes?! You won't last longer than that!"

You giggled as you saw Niall's face turn red.

"Right you, out now!" Niall replied and you saw him point towards what you presumed to be the door.

"Bye Emma!"

"Bye Lewis!" You replied still giggling.

You heard the door close and Niall resume his original position in front of you.

"Sorry about him." He said, his face still red.

"Have you got time for phone sex?" You asked him.

His eyes widened in shock and you could see him trying to decide how to answer the question. It was something that you had explored a few times whilst you had been apart. But it has always been when you were just going to sleep and Niall was in a hotel room. He was in a dressing room waiting to perform that evening, anyone could walk in.

"I have to go for sound check in like ten minutes. But fuck I would if I could." He managed to mumble out.

"Ah that's a shame." You smirked. "Could still show you the good stuff if you like?"

"Yeah?" He stuttered.

"Mmmm." You replied as you pulled his hoodie over your head, revealing just a plain light pink vest top underneath.

You heard him breath out a huge sigh at the sight of your breasts, just visible beneath your thin top.

"More?" You asked him, as you saw him reach down and adjust himself beneath his jeans.

"Yes." He croaked out before clearing his throat and repeating himself.

Pulling the top over your head you heard him moan out and mumble something about how you were driving him crazy. When you reached across and tweaked your nipple, he moaned again and rubbed his free hand across his face, down his chest and to his jeans. His hand palmed himself over his bulge and he blew out a sigh of relief.

A knock on the door on his end brought him back to reality and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees to try and disguise his erection. No one entered the room however but someone did call out a ten minute call for his sound check.

"Yeah be there in five." He called out.

You saw him shake his head.

"I have to go." He sighed. "But I need to go and sort out this first."

And he turned the camera down to show you his big problem.

"Go to the bathroom and let me watch." You asked him.

"Yeah? You'd like that?" He replied, his eyebrows raised.

"Mmmmm." You simply answered with as you stroked your nipples again. He groaned, but quickly stood up and made his way to the ensuite bathroom, locking the door behind him.

With his phone propped up by the sink, he quickly opened his button and unzipped his jeans. The sight of his thick cock as he pulled himself from his jeans made your core throb.

"Oh baby look how worked up you are." You whispered as you slipped your hand beneath your shorts.

"All for you, see what you do to me?" He replied panting, as he ran his thumb over his bright red tip moving the precum down his length.

"I barely did anything."

"I've not made love to you in six weeks babe, I'm going to cum in like two minutes I'm so worked up by the sight of your tits."

"Yeah, two minutes? Is that a challenge?"

"Definitely, and you better be touching yourself to." He whispered back.

"I am." You replied and you saw him bite his lip to hold back a moan.

Neither of you spoke again in case someone happened to enter Nialls dressing room. There were low breaths and pants from you both as you desperately seeked your release. Your fingers were running over your clit, while you teased your nipples with the other hand. Keeping eye contact with Niall was hard, your eyes were practically rolling in the back of your head as you got closer. The tightness in your stomach built more and more as you watched him stroke his hard cock with his left hand and tug on his balls with his right.

His movements became sloppy and you knew he was close, the thought of it pushed you to your orgasm and you mewled as you came, your body almost convulsing at the strength of your release.

Low pants of your name from Niall's lips told you he was coming to, and you saw him release his grip on his balls to try and catch the heavy stream of his orgasm.

"Jesus christ." He mumbled as he surveyed the mess in his hands.

"That was about two minutes. Challenge won." You said with a smirk.

********

The Cosy Coffee Corner was quiet today, the early Monday morning rush of commuters and dog walkers had been and gone. Mr and Mrs Davidson had sat at their usual spot by the window reading the newspaper like they always did at least 3 or 4 mornings a week. You'd come down early to offer help to Audrey with the customers, having been awake since dawn. You hadn't been able to get back to sleep after waking up at 5am, your mind filled with thoughts of Niall and his arrival back from Miami today.

You weren't sure how long the flight was or what time you would see him today. It all depended on how he slept on the flight and if he was jetlagged. The sheer desperation to see him was ridiculous.

Your internship at the London office of Foundation Interior Designs didn't start until the new year, and you weren't due to go to your parents until tomorrow. Feeling at a bit of a loss you'd served the familiar customers alongside Audrey and sipped your morning coffee. No one made coffee like Audrey.

It felt great to be back in the safety and comfort of The Cosy Coffee Corner though and Audrey had been excited to see you. When you'd left, it had been the end of the summer, but now the cafe was covered in Christmas decorations. The handmade garland was hanging across the counter by the till. A large Christmas tree took over the corner by the window. The whole place smelled of the usual freshly made pastries and coffee but now with a hint of Winter smells of cinnamon, nutmeg and gingerbread.

"What time is he due back?" Audrey asked you as she cleared the table next to the counter.

"Not sure. Do you mind if I hang around here for a bit longer?"

"Of course not love."

The bell above the door jingled and you looked up to see a woman carrying a familiar looking bouquet of flowers.

"Hi, I have a delivery for Emma Pearce." She said.

"That's me, thanks." You replied taking the bouquet. Right on time you thought. Niall had never missed your weekly delivery of flowers since you'd been apart.

Taking the small card in your hand, your saw a printed message.

"To my beautiful girl, can't wait to see you today. Love you. N xxx"

"Wish I could find someone to send me flowers ever week." Audrey said as she came to stand beside you. "These are beautiful."

"I can set you up on one of those dating sites if you like?!"

"Oh god no child, can you imagine the weirdos I'd meet?!"

"Not everyone on them is a weirdo!" You replied sniggering.

"Of course not, but I'm bound to be matched with one. Would be just my luck." She said.

"Didn't know you were looking at dating again Audrey?"

It had been quite a few years since Audrey had lost her husband and you hadn't realised she was thinking about meeting new people.

"Well I'm not really, but it would be nice to go out for dinner and have some male company sometimes. And not like that before you raise your eyebrows at me girl!" She laughed.

"I never said anything!"

"Go grab a book and take a seat, I'll bring you over some lunch." She said, slowly shifting you out from behind the counter.

"You don't need to do that."

"Yes I do, I haven't been able to mother you for months!" She replied smiling.

"I've missed that actually." You replIed smiling back.

Placing your flowers on one of the tables by the Christmas tree in the window, you browsed the books selecting one that's cover looked intriguing. Sitting down you started to read, Audrey soon brought you over a sandwich, a gingerbread man and another coffee.

You soon got lost in the book, you'd been reading quite a bit while you'd been away in Paris. It had helped the evenings go quickly when you were on your own. The cafe started to pick up with the lunch time rush, people popping in for sandwiches and coffees from local businesses near by, the bell above the door jingling every so often.

You didn't notice when someone stood in front of you but your head soon looked up when that someone cleared their throat.

Your mouth opened in shock at the sight of Niall standing in front of you. He had on a thick black coat and a grey paddy cap, all wrapped up and cosy from the December weather.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked gesturing towards the seat opposite you.

"Definitely not." You managed to reply, still shocked at seeing him front of you.

You hadn't expected to see him in here, thinking he would probably text you and say he was coming over to your flat or something. He moved closer to you, leaning down so you were face to face, just inches from each other.

"Good." He said as he leaned in and kissed you.

Tag list

@awomanindeniall

@horanscran

@flnialler

@winchesterwife27

@ihearthemcallingforyou

@niallismymuse

@someoneunimportantxx

#Niall #Niall Horan #niall fan fic #Niall fan fiction #Niall Horan fan fic #Niall Horan fan fiction #Niall angst #Niall fluff #Niall smut #Emily writes #solo Niall

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edcn911 · 4 years ago

Text

chicago’s very own eden harvey has been spotted on madison avenue driving a 1969 chevrolet camero , welcome ! your resemblance to taylor hill is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty fifth birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re maligned , but being liberated might help you . i think being an aquarius explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be a deep red lip stain , scattered polaroids depicting hazy memories , conversations with strangers at 3 am . ( i’ve been to prison . none of my family knows that , though . ) &( cis female + she / her ) + ( emily , 25 , she / her , pst )

❤️ hi friends and loved ones , this is eden , east’s problematic older sister . she’s a fucking train wreck so i already apologize for the shit she is bound to cause . please hit the like if ur into plotting with me ! ur all cute af , xoxo .

biography .

name : eden harvey

age : twenty five

gender : cis female

zodiac : aquarius

sexuality : bisexual

profession : artist / sculptor

hair color : brown

eye color : blue

piercings : both lobes

tattoos : none

born in london , eden is the first child of her parents , the budding family welcoming in easy two years after eden’s birth . there’s not much to note in the early years of her childhood other than the family relocated to chicago when she was six . she was never an easy child to deal with . she was constantly getting in trouble at school and at home . she just didn’t want to listen to anyone and had a very strong disdain toward authority . the first american school she was sent to she was quickly expelled from for her behavior and this caused an immense rift to form in the family . eden’s reckless antics was enough to suck the life from her parents . literally . when it came to her younger brother , east , they were burnt out . they kept him in one place and were abusive . it was easier to exert control over east than it was for them to manage eden . she protected her brother fiercely from the mistreatment of her parents , but this toxic family dynamic only encouraged eden to act out further . she became accustomed to sneaking out at night , sleeping around , and doing drugs . eden contemplated running away from home multiple times during her youth ; the only thing that kept her in one place was her brother , east . her lowest point was when east tried to take his life when he was 15 . it was probably one of the most traumatic events of her life and while she served as her brother’s emotional support and rock , it rattled her to the point where eden began to drink consistently . this started a habit that she still partakes in to this day .when she turned eighteen and was more assured of her brother’s wellbeing , it was time to flee the nest . she spent a few months in new york on her own , working on her art . eden always had been compelled toward the arts . painting , sculpting , and other physical art forms really drew her in as a means to get out of the negativity in a way that’s healthy and not self destructive which is basically her brand anyways . she met someone who owned several art galleries around the pacific northwest , so by age twenty , she had relocated to seattle and was getting her work put in galleries and other art exhibits . she never really stayed in one place for long , though . eden is a notorious nomad and she often moves around a lot . she doesn’t really ever ‘ get comfortable ’ anywhere . despite traveling around america , eden always made it her first priority to look after her younger brother . she kept in contact with her circle back from chicago as well just to keep an eye on him and make sure that he is safe , happy , and healthy . she blames herself a lot for the way his childhood turned out . her relationship with their parents was deplorable and eden was 100% the instigator in it all . she feels like if she was a better person , her parents would’ve taken a different approach in raising east . more recently , she has moved back to the east coast to be closer to her little brother . this action was inspired by actually spending three and a half months in prison in oregon . eden was arrested for driving without a license and driving while intoxicated . she also tried to resist arrest , but managed to get that charge dropped in court . eden managed to keep this entire thing from her family . she didn’t want to see the disappointment in her brother’s eyes , so she excused her absence as ‘ soul searching ’ and filled his head with false tales of self improvement . currently , she is trying desperately to adjust back to normal life after her brief prison stint and put the pieces of her life back together . bet .

personality .

eden is a very bullheaded individual --- meaning , she’s going to do whatever the fuck she wants , when she wants , how she wants it and there is nothing that anyone can say to sway her . it’s very much her way or the high way when it comes to eden ; she’s really unwilling to budge on mostly everything . while i wouldn’t go as far as to say that she has a temper , i would say that eden has a pretty bad attitude . she’s a pessimist at heart and it definitely speaks through her art . she never depicts anything too happy and one could argue that eden ha sonly experienced fleeting moments of happiness in her life . shifting to a different note , eden is passionate . she is akin to a wildfire . she’s intense and she stares people right in the eye when she speaks to them . as much as she loathes people , she’s also so deeply fascinated with them . she’s the type of girl who is sitting at the bar before last call , in deep conversation with someone she doesn’t even know the name of . there are some brighter points to eden’s persona that i would love to cover --- i promise she isn’t all doom and gloom ! aside from her fierce sense of loyalty , eden is very intuitive and empathetic . one wouldn’t really associate those traits with someone who is so rough on the exterior , but eden feels very deeply and she tends to take on the emotions of others around her . i would describe her as a chameleon in the sense of she can easily change her colors to fit in with those around her . if the mood is light and jovial , she can be that way . if the atmosphere is tense , then she is going to be apprehensive and trigger - happy . that’s just how she is . i would best describe eden as the type of girl who is akin to a breeze in the air . she just goes whichever way she pleases and where she lands is where she lands . deep down , she is an incredibly sad girl who struggles deeply with her past and who she is as a person . she lacks self - love . she knows she’s a lot to manage and doesn’t really see past that or why she would ever be worth anyone’s time of day beyond that . with that said , eden is very good at faking it . if she wants to portray herself a certain way , she will . for example , she wants east to believe that she is put together and has all of her ducks in a row -- so she goes above and beyond to make him believe that because she can’t handle him ever looking down on her . it’s a weird concept she has with mostly everyone who has made an impact on her life . she’s good at acting like she doesn’t give a fuck when in fact she really , really does .

plots .

while i would LOVE to write out a bunch of extensive plot ideas like i had for pavarti’s intro , i am lazy . like real fucking lazy , so i decided to list some plots that i would absolutely ❤️ to have for eden , separated into both platonic and romantic categories !

romantic : someone eden broke the heart of badly , hateship , friends with benefits , exes on bad terms , one night stand , mutual infatuation / one sided infatuation

platonic : roommates , childhood friends , good influence ( on eden ) , bad influence ( eden on your muse / your muse on eden ) , muse , art friends , party buddies , confidants , enemies , friends turned to enemies , fake friendship , sibling like friendships , platonic soulmate

#wealthyhq:intro #tw abuse #tw suicide

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quakerjoe · 5 years ago

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In the first employment report after social distancing measures had taken hold in many US states, the Department of Labor announced that 3.3 million people had filed jobless claims. A week later, in the first week in April, an additional 6.6 million claims came in—almost unfathomable compared with the previous record of 695,000, which was set in 1982.

As bad as those numbers are, though, they greatly understate the crisis, since they don’t take into account many part-time, self-employed, and gig workers who are also losing their livelihoods. Financial experts predict that US GDP will drop as much as 30% to 50% by summer.

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In late March, President Donald Trump warned against letting “the cure be worse than the problem itself” and talked of getting the country back to business by Easter, then just two weeks away. Casey Mulligan, a University of Chicago economist and former member of the president’s Council of Economic Advisers, warned that “an optimistic projection” for the cost of closing nonessential businesses until July was almost $10,000 per American household. He told the New York Times that shutting down economic activity to slow the virus would be more damaging than doing nothing at all.

Eventually the White House released models suggesting that letting the virus spread unchecked could kill as many as 2.2 million Americans, in line with the projections of other epidemiologists. Trump backed off his calls for an early reopening, extending guidelines on social distancing through the end of April. But his essential argument remained: that in the coronavirus pandemic, there is an agonizing trade-off between saving the economy and saving lives.

Evidence from research, however, shows that this is a false dichotomy. The best way to limit the economic damage will be to save as many lives as possible.

A novel recession

Part of the difficulty with setting policy now is that the situation is unprecedented in living memory. “It’s impossible to know how the world is changing,” says David Autor, a labor economist at MIT. “It isn’t like anything we’ve seen in a hundred years.” In any past recession or depression, the economic solution has always been to stimulate demand for labor—to get workers back on the job. But in this case, we’re purposely shutting down economic activity and telling people to stay at home. “It’s not just the depth of the recession,” Autor says. “It’s qualitatively different.”

One of the biggest fears is that those least able to withstand the downturn will be hit hardest—low-wage service workers in restaurants and hotels, and the growing number of people in the gig economy. For the last two decades, service workers have become an increasingly large part of the labor force as many of the midlevel office and manufacturing jobs previously open to people without college degrees have dried up, says Autor. It’s people in these service jobs, already low paid and often with few health and other benefits, who will struggle the most.

“On a good day they are vulnerable, and on a bad day they are even more vulnerable,” Autor says. “And this is a very bad day.”

Provisions included in the $2 trillion legislative package passed by Congress in late March were meant to give affected workers and businesses the means to weather the shutdown and, once the outbreak is under control, help restart the economy. Each adult earning less than $75,000 will be given $1,200, and for the first time, gig workers and self-employed people will qualify for unemployment benefits. Hundreds of billions of dollars will also go to helping businesses stay afloat.

But it almost certainly won’t be enough, especially in the hardest-hit areas of the country. Cities like Las Vegas and Orlando, “places with gargantuan leisure hospitality economies,” will be badly affected, says Mark Muro, coauthor of a report from the Brookings Institution analyzing the numbers. But any region with a large service economy is vulnerable. Muro points out that many of these places never recovered from the 2008 financial crisis.

The people losing these low-wage service jobs were already experiencing skyrocketing mortality rates from what economists have begun calling “deaths of despair,” caused by alcoholism, drug abuse, and suicide. The coming crash could make things much worse.

The value of a life

Yet shutting down businesses is the only real choice, given that an unchecked pandemic would itself be hugely destructive to economic activity. If tens of millions of people become sick and millions die, the economy suffers, and not just because the workforce is being depleted. Widespread fear is bad for business: consumers won’t flock back to restaurants, book air travel, or spend on activities that might put them at risk of getting sick. In a recent survey of leading economists by Chicago’s Booth School, 88% believed that “a comprehensive policy response” will need to involve tolerating “a very large contraction in economic activity” to get the outbreak under control. Some 80% thought that “abandoning severe lockdowns” too early will lead to even greater economic damage.

Meanwhile, any measures to slow deaths from the virus will have huge downstream economic benefits. Michael Greenstone, an economist at the University of Chicago, finds that even moderate social distancing will save 1.7 million lives between March 1 and October 1, according to disease-spread models done at Imperial College London. Avoiding those deaths translates into a benefit of around $8 trillion to the economy, or about one-third of the US GDP, he estimates, on the basis of a widely accepted economic measure, the “value of a statistical life.” And if the outbreak is less severe than predicted by the Imperial College work, Greenstone predicts, social distancing could still save some $3.6 trillion.

“Our choice is not whether we intervene or whether we go back to the normal economy,” says Emil Verner, an economist at MIT’s Sloan School who has recently looked at the flu pandemic of 1918 for insights into today’s outbreak. “Our choice is whether we intervene—and the economy will be really bad now and will be better in the future—versus doing nothing and the pandemic goes out of control and really destroys the economy.”

Overall, Verner and his coauthors found that the 1918 pandemic reduced national manufacturing output in the US by 18%; but cities that implemented restrictions earlier and for longer had much better economic outcomes in the year after the outbreak.

Verner points to the fates of two cities in particular: Cleveland and Philadelphia. Cleveland acted aggressively, closing schools and banning gatherings early in the outbreak and keeping the restrictions in place for far longer. Philadelphia was slower to react and maintained restrictions for about half as long. Not only did far fewer people die in Cleveland (600 per 100,000, compared with 900 per 100,000 in Philadelphia), but its economy fared better and was much stronger in the year after the outbreak. By 1919 job growth was 5% there, while in Philadelphia it was around 2%.

Today’s economy is much different—it’s geared more toward services, and far less toward manufacturing than it was 100 years ago. Nevertheless, the cities’ stories are suggestive. Verner says that even a conservative interpretation of the data suggests there is “no evidence that interventions are worse for the economy.” And most likely they had a significant benefit. “A pandemic is so destructive,” he says. “Ultimately any policy to mitigate it is going to be good for the economy.”

The cure, then, isn’t worse than the disease. But for every day that normal economic activity is shut down, a huge number of Americans won’t be earning an income. Many already live paycheck to paycheck. Many may in fact succumb to diseases of despair. Families will fall apart under the stress. Hard-hit cities will feel abandoned. The urgency to open the economy will only grow.

However, a number of influential economists and health-care experts are saying there’s a way to get America quickly back in business while preserving public safety.

Reviving the economy

These days Paul Romer sounds exasperated. “We’re caught up in the trauma: kill the economy or kill more people,” he says. There is so much “learned helplessness, so much hand-wringing.” The New York University economist and Nobel laureate believes he has a relatively simple strategy that will “both contain the virus and let the economy revive.”

The key, says Romer, is repeatedly testing everyone without symptoms to identify who is infected. (People with symptoms should just be assumed to have covid-19 and treated accordingly.) All those who test positive should isolate themselves; those who test negative can return to work, traveling, and socializing, but they should be tested every two weeks or so. If you’re negative, you might have a card saying so that allows you to get on an airplane or freely enter a restaurant.

Testing could be voluntary. Romer acknowledges some might resist it or resist isolating themselves if positive, but “most people want to do the right thing,” he says, and that should be enough to snuff out the spread of the virus.

Romer points to new, faster diagnostic tests, including ones from Silicon Valley’s Cepheid and from the drug giant Roche. Each of Roche’s best machines can handle 4,200 tests a day; build five thousand of those machines, and you can test 20 million people a day. “It’s well within our capacity,” he says. “We just need to bend some metal and make some machines.” If you can identify and isolate those infected with the virus, you can let the rest of the population go back to business.

Indeed, in an early April survey by Chicago’s Booth School, 93% of the economists agreed that “a massive increase in testing” is required for “an economic restart.”

In a piece called “National Coronavirus Response: A roadmap to reopening,” former FDA director Scott Gottlieb also argued for ramping up testing and then isolating those infected rather shutting in the entire population. Likewise, Ezekiel Emanuel, chair of the University of Pennsylvania’s department of medical ethics and health policy, called for increasing testing in a New York Times piece called “We Can Safely Restart the Economy in June. Here’s How.” Harvard medical experts, meanwhile, have outlined similar ideas in “A Detailed Plan for Getting Americans Back to Work.”

The proposals differ in details, but all revolve around widespread testing of various sorts to know who is vulnerable and who isn’t before we risk going back to business.

There is, however, little evidence that massive and frequent testing will be implemented anytime soon. Despite the appearance of new tests, screening is still largely unavailable for anyone but the most severely ill or those at the medical front lines. Test kits and equipment to perform them are still in short supply. Many hospitals and doctors complain they can’t get needed tests; and Roche’s CEO said at the end of March that it will be “weeks, if not months” before there is widespread coronavirus testing in the US.

It’s the type of inertia that clearly frustrates Romer. He calls the $2 trillion legislation passed by Congress “palliative care” for the economy. If you took $100 billion and put it into testing, he says, we would “be far better off.”

One day we will have to reopen the economy. Perhaps we’ll be able to hold out until the pandemic is showing signs of receding, or perhaps the economic suffering will prove intolerable both to those in charge and to those living in hard-hit regions. When that day comes, if we do not have widespread testing, we will be sending people back to work without knowing if they’re at risk of getting the virus or spreading it to others. “We’re thinking about this the wrong way,” Romer says. The idea that one day you will be able to restart the economy without massive testing to see if the outbreak is under control is just “magical thinking.”

It could be a gradual process—those who are found to be free of infection or immune might be allowed back first. But without testing we won’t know how to manage this transition. In that case we will in fact be left with the Trumpian choice: between salvaging the economy and risking countless deaths.

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chicagocityofclans · 4 years ago

Photo

Willaume ‘Bill’ White → Douglas Booth → Witch

→ Basic Information

Age: 510

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Powers: Necromancy

Birthday: June 24th

Zodiac Sign: Aries

Religion: Agnostic

Mark: Unknown

Generation: 3rd

→ His Personality

Bill has a curious personality and can easily adapt to random or unplanned changes in his life. Bill is grateful for being a necromancer because his curiosity has gotten him killed multiple times. With every death, he believes he came back stronger and smarter than before. Bill cares about the supernatural community and their progress. He is an observer and the protector that keeps his family and friends together. Bill is frequently resolving conflicts within his family and friend groups by drawing their attention to what is going on around them. He has a neutral, level-headed approach to everything and the supernatural events unfolding in Chicago.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Travelling RN and Working on his M.D Degree

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Monopoly and KitKat Bars

Two Dislikes: The Color Lavender and BedBath&Beyond

Two Fears: Being Decapitated and Having his Heart Ripped Out

Two Hobbies: Studying Evocation and Writing Research Papers

Three Positive Traits: Ebullient, Observant, Debonair

Three Negative Traits: Eccentric, Fanciful, Demanding

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Elora Egalmen (Mother): Both of his parents are unknown 2nd generation witches. Bill isn’t attached to his father or mother.

Aidan White (Father): Both of his parents are unknown 2nd generation witches. Bill isn’t attached to his father or mother.

Sibling Names:

Jodi White (Sister): Jodi is Bill's annoying little sister and gives the term little witch its own stereotypical meaning.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Lyra Cleirigh (Mate): Bill and Lyra have been together for nearly a century. While their friendship started off slowly, once they knew they shared a mutual attraction it did not take long for them to start dating. Bill has confided in Lyra about his parents and their treatment of him. While Bill does not believe in marriage, he does consider Lyra to be his mate for life.

Platonic Connections:

Roman Cleirigh (Mentor): Bill mentored under Roman multiple times. Mostly to explore his curiosity of evocators and to be closer to Lyra.

Ronan Cleirigh (Mentor): They share the same power and Bill believes Ronan was the key to unlocking his full potential. They are still on speaking terms and Bill often seeks him out for guidance. Ronan has recently offered him the Cleirigh name and Bill is debating on whether he should take it or not.

Judson Cleirigh (Friend): Bill, Judson and Patch are great friends. People often complain that the three are a little too close and dependent on each other.

Talia Cleirigh (Old Friend): He and Talia were good friends when he lived in Chicago before he and his parents moved away. They’re friendship started up again without missing a beat and Bill appreciated it.

Ethan Cleirigh (Friendly): Ethan had always shared pleasantries with him. Bill was surprised when Ethan moved in with Roman but asked no questions.

Audo Wilhelm (Friendly): Bill and Audo mentored under Ronan. They got along well and Bill has confided in him that his parents hated and mistreated him for being a necromancer; including why he truly and randomly left for 10 years long ago. They have also started a business together.

Emmett Wilhelm (Friendly): Bill had once thought about becoming a liaison. He and Emmett sat down and had a long talk. They’ve been friendly ever since.

Hostile Connections:

Billy (Annoyance): Billy swears up and down that Bill stole his name and is trying to steal his role as Roman’s number one. Bill, however, absolutely adores him but he is slightly becoming an annoyance.

Justin (Annoyance): Justin told everyone Bill used his powers to make him do something that pissed Roman off last year. Bill swore up and down that he didn’t but Justin still blames him. While Roman attitude didn’t change towards him he hates the questioning glances he gets every now and again. Justin is on his shitlist.

Pets:

None

→ History

Bill’s parents were never really interested in him beyond childhood. He was raised in a family of witches who were all blessed with arcane powers. Between his grandparents, parents, uncles, aunts, great-uncles, great-aunts, and sister, they completely had all of the arcane powers within their family. That is all expect evocation and necromancy. Bill was sure that him being the first necromancer in their family was one of the reasons why his parents barely paid attention to him. What they really cared most about was fighting over who had the rights to name their mark. It's been going on for centuries and none of them can agree. Their mark was pretty young with the oldest member being Bill’s maternal grandfather, William, at the age of 588. William had Bill’s mom pretty young from a witch standpoint and Bill’s mom had him even younger. The same said for Bill’s paternal side of the family. His paternal grandfather is 573, followed closely by Bill’s father who is 549. With both his maternal and paternal grandparents in a battle over their marks, Bill is embarrassed by their antics and childishness.

Bill was born and raised in Canada. He was months old when his parents took him to Ronan Cleirigh, the only other necromancy on their side of the hemisphere, for help. Apparently every time he cried or threw a fit, food and plants within the house died. That’s how it was for 80 years of his life. Every time he slipped or something died, he was sent to Ronan for the week as punishment. It wasn’t exactly a punishment because he enjoyed the whole family and even began mentoring under Roman, Ronan's younger brother too. Before he mentored, he had mistakenly summoned a spirit which Roman later helped him with. Since then, Bill has had an unending interest in spirits and evocation. His bliss with the Cleirigh family was cut short when his parents forced him to move to Europe. He nearly stayed and asked the Council to place him fully under the care of his mentor but he was already gone. At the age of 12, Bill's parents had an illegal procedure performed to remove his heart for safe keeping, against Ronan warnings that Bill should be the one to keep hold of it, Bill allowed his parents to keep it for him. One squeeze was enough to have him teleporting across the country in seconds. He knew better than to tell the Cleirigh family what had happened and kept it away from them and his friends. It took Bill 10 years to get his heart back but only 3 seconds to teleport back to his real family and friends. He plans on keeping his family secret since it is enough for the council to have their entire line killed; muchless what Ronan and Roman would do to them.

Bill has been with the Cleirigh family for his whole life besides the 10 years he forcefully spent in London. Bill enjoyed his studies with his former mentor in London but found himself struggling with Undead Manipulation. It was then that Billy knew that returning to Chicago with both Ronan and Roman readily available to him was the best course of action. Or so that is the story he is going with. That would also help with his research and the academic book he’s been working on. Evocationers were originally mistaken for Necromancers, and used to be classified as the same powers, until tests and long term experiments showed they were different. Bill still sees connections between their powers, being one of the few that deal with the living and the dead, he is trying to draw the connections between the two once again. When he was younger his parents randomly made an off handed comment that he should write a book and that is exactly what he is doing. → The Present

Besides writing and working, Bill has started on his Doctor of Medicine degree. While he did attend schooling back in the 1800’s, he was a physician and considered a surgeon but that was nearly 200 years ago. Bill has found himself struggling with modern medicine. Returning to school seemed like a good idea.

Bill has also started a business with Audo helping people reach their departed ones. It's the first time Bill has ever done something like this before and is looking forward to what it holds for them both. In between handling his course work, finishing his book/research and working, Bill has been trying to keep up with Lyra, his mate. Bill's parents were not exactly great relationship models but he had Ronan and Isthar and Garrett and Jia good examples. Bill hasn’t had a serious relationship with anyone else besides Lyra; he is giving her all his attention and care.

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Douglas Booth [1][2][3]

#Open #OM #OMWI #OWI #Willaume White #Bill White

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liv-brooks · 4 years ago

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OLIVA BROOKS ||

— && guests may mistake me as ( lily james ), but really i am ( olivia brooks + cisgender female + she/her ) and my DOB is ( 07/10/92 ). i am a ( ballet teacher & socialite ) and would like to stay in suite ( 311 ). i won’t be much of a bother because i am ( bubbly & passionate ), but i can also be ( bossy & hectic ) at times. personally, i like to ( travel, take photos, bake & visit coffee shops ) when i have the time to relax, and my favorite snack is ( dark chocolate covered almonds ) to have in my suite. thank you for checking in! ( courtney, CST, 23 ).

Hello again lovelies!! It’s Courtney, and because I can never stick to only one muse I’m bringing in this little ballerina babe and I’m so pumped to bring her to life :) <3

Nicknames: Liv, Livvy, Livia.

Birthday/Age: July 10th. 27.

Occupation: Ballet Teacher and Socialite.

Sexuality: Pansexual.

Originally from: London, England

Also lived in: New York City ( from ages 15-24 ) & Chicago ( 24-present )

P A S T → TW: death, TW: injury

From the moment she was born it was easy to see that Olivia loved life, and it loved her right back. She was happy and curious as a child with what would later become her trademark bubbly personality on full display from an early age. With her father owning multiple resorts in tourist hotspots around the world, it was easy for her mother to pick up life as an English socialite. And as such, Olivia was thrust into the spotlight of high society early on as well. Luckily for her family though, she thrived in it. She loved the excitement of all the events and getting to go out and buy nice dresses and shoes for fancy dinners with her father’s business associates. It was especially beneficial for Olivia when a trip to the ballet with her mother’s friends at age 4 led to her discovering her great love in life.

After seeing how beautiful and graceful the dancers were, Olivia pestered her parents for weeks to let her take up dance lessons and they finally agreed, finding her the best studio and teacher in London. She didn’t know yet how to get up there, or what all it would take. But she was willing to do anything to earn her place up on the stage. Her mom was a dream dance mom. Never pushing her too hard, but always supporting her in her rehearsals. She comforted and took care of her when she fell during classes, gently encouraged her to keep going when she thought she wanted to quit, and cheered the loudest during every recital. She even dropped many of her social events from her calendar to take Olivia to rehearsals, seeing the potential and love her daughter had for ballet.

Of course Olivia loved her dad dearly as well, but she had to admit to having a softer spot for her mom. Her mom was her rock and biggest cheerleader in life. So when her mom got sick and passed when Olivia was 12, it felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her feet and it absolutely broke her. While her father had never necessarily been an absent one, he was noticeably more present for Olivia, taking up a partner in the resorts who could do most of the travelling so he could stay home with his daughter. And while that did help in her grieving process, both her and her father to this day will credit a large part of her healing to her dance teacher Ms. Ava. Ms. Ava refused to let her quit and would come pick her up for rehearsals, encouraging Olivia to keep dancing as a way to heal. Ballet became Olivia’s therapy and her love for it only deepened.

Four years after her mother passed though, her father made the decision to move them both to New York City where he would eventually meet the woman who would become Olivia’s stepmom. And while Olivia occasionally liked to think of herself as Cinderella, she was more than happy to skip out on the evil stepmother part. While she won’t call her mom, she likes her well enough. All she really cares about is her dad being happy.

While it had been disappointing to move from her old studio, and she missed Ms. Ava more than anything, Olivia found a way to continue to dance. Finding a new studio, she only stayed there for a year before she was recruited by a company. From ages 17 to 23, Olivia lived out her dream of being a ballet dancer, performing in multiple shows and even landing a few leading roles. She would have been more than happy to continue for the rest of her life. But her dream came crashing down the day that she did. During a long rehearsal her partner dropped her from a lift and she shattered her ankle. While she did recover from it after almost a year, she never regained the full strength to be the level of dancer she was before and had to make the difficult decision to quit the company. It broke her heart to lose the thing she loved most, and she needed a change of scenery. She ended up moving from New York to Chicago bouncing around between hotels and apartments as she tried to find a place to settle and something to do with her life now.

For awhile she thought she’d never dance again, but an opportunity to teach an intermediate ballet class came up and while Olivia knows she’ll never dance to her old abilities again, she knew she could at least dance well enough to teach. She gladly took the position and moved into the Malnati since it was one of the closest hotels to the studio and she’s been there and teaching for over a year now. She’s settled into life in Chicago and is slowly finding a semblance of the happiness she used to have again, even recently adding a baby ballet class to her schedule.

P E R S O N A L I T Y →

For the most part, Olivia is really friendly. She’s bubbly, fun-loving, and does her best to get along with just about everyone. Though she is also self-admittedly a little spoiled. She grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth and her career as a ballerina only made that worse turning her into somewhat of a perfectionist. While she’s tries her best to never be entitled or bratty about it, she will admit to having a high set of standards and not dealing well with those not being met.

C O N N E C T I O N S →

These are just a few potential connections I thought could work, but honestly hit me up with anything! I’m open to whatever :)

Friends from before the Malnati? ( someone from New York, or met when she first arrived in Chicago )

Enemies? ( either they hate her or she hates them and they just can’t seem to find a way to get along )

Dance partner/friend? ( someone she knew before her injury, or met after and they take recreational dance classes together. maybe convinces her to try something other than ballet/contemporary )

Has a family member in one of her dance classes? ( niece/nephew/cousins )

Exes/Fling/One night stand?

#bio.

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blackkudos · 5 years ago

Text

Floyd Patterson

Floyd Patterson (January 4, 1935 – May 11, 2006) was an American professional boxer who competed from 1952 to 1972, and twice reigned as the world heavyweight champion between 1956 and 1962. At the age of 21, he became the youngest boxer in history to win the title, and was also the first heavyweight to regain the title after losing it. As an amateur, he won a gold medal in the middleweight division at the 1952 Summer Olympics.

In 1956 and 1960, Patterson was voted Fighter of the Year by The Ring magazine and the Boxing Writers Association of America. He was inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1991.

Early life

Born January 4, 1935, into a poor family in Waco, North Carolina, Patterson was the youngest of eleven children.Savanah Joe Patterson was his first cousin from out of Arkansas.He went and visited during the early summer years. He experienced an insular and troubled childhood. His family moved to Brooklyn, New York, where Floyd was a truant and a petty thief. At age 10, he was sent to the Wiltwyck School for Boys, a reform School in upstate New York, which he credited with turning his life around. He stayed there for almost two years. He attended high school in New Paltz, New York where he succeeded in all sports.

Patterson took up boxing at age fourteen, and was training with the Bedford-Stuyvesant Boxing Association Gym. Three years later, he won the gold medal in the 1952 Helsinki Olympics as a middleweight. In 1952, he won the National Amateur Middleweight Championship and New York Golden Gloves Middleweight Championship. At that time he was spotted by Cus D'Amato, and trained at the Gramercy Gym.

Olympic results

Round of 16: Defeated Omar Tebakka (France) on points, 3–0

Quarterfinal: Defeated Leonardus Jansen (Netherlands) by a first-round stoppage

Semifinal: Defeated Stig Sjölin (Sweden) by disqualification in the third round

Defeated Vasile Tiță (Romania) by a first-round knockout

Patterson's amateur record was 40 wins (37 by knockout) and 4 defeats.

Patterson carried his hands higher than most boxers, in front of his face. Sportswriters called Patterson's style a "peek-a-boo" stance.

Early pro career

Patterson turned pro and steadily rose through the ranks, his only early defeat being an eight-round decision to former Light Heavyweight Champion Joey Maxim on June 7, 1954, at the Eastern Parkway Arena in Brooklyn, New York.

Championship

Although Patterson fought around the light heavyweight limit for much of his early career, he and manager Cus D'Amato always had plans to fight for the Heavyweight Championship. In fact, D'Amato made these plans clear as early as 1954, when he told the press that Patterson was aiming for the heavyweight title. However, after Rocky Marciano announced his retirement as World Heavyweight Champion on April 27, 1956, Patterson was ranked by The Ring magazine as the top light heavyweight contender. After Marciano's announcement, Jim Norris of the International Boxing Club stated that Patterson was one of the six fighters who would take part in an elimination tournament to crown Marciano's successor. The Ring then moved Patterson into the heavyweight rankings, at number five.

Patterson vs. Moore

After beating Tommy "Hurricane" Jackson in an elimination fight, Patterson faced Light Heavyweight Champion Archie Moore on November 30, 1956, for the World Heavyweight Championship. He beat Moore by a knockout in five rounds and became the youngest World Heavyweight Champion in history, at the age of 21 years, 10 months, 3 weeks and 5 days. He was the first Olympic gold medalist to win a professional heavyweight title.

Patterson vs. Johansson I, II & III

After a series of defenses against fringe contenders (Hurricane Jackson, Pete Rademacher, Roy Harris, and Brian London), Patterson met Ingemar Johansson of Sweden, the number one contender, in the first of three fights. Johansson triumphed over Patterson on June 26, 1959, with the referee Ruby Goldstein stopping the fight in the third round after the Swede had knocked Patterson down seven times. Johansson became Sweden's first World Heavyweight Champion, thus becoming a national hero as the first European to defeat an American for the title since 1933.

Patterson knocked out Johansson in the fifth round of their rematch on June 20, 1960, to become the first man in history to regain the Undisputed World Heavyweight Championship. Johansson hit the canvas hard, seemingly out before he landed flat on his back. With glazed eyes, blood trickling from his mouth and his left foot quivering, he was counted out. Johansson lay unconscious for five minutes before he was helped onto a stool.

A third fight between them was held on March 13, 1961 and while Johansson put Patterson on the floor, Patterson retained his title by knockout in the sixth round to win the rubber match in which Patterson was decked twice and Johansson, once in the first round. Johansson had landed both right hands over Floyd's left jab. After getting up from the second knockdown, Floyd abandoned his jab and connected with a left hook that knocked down Johansson. After that, Patterson came on with a strong body attack that wore down Johansson. In the 6th round, Johansson caught Patterson with a solid right. But the power in Ingemar's punches was gone. Patterson won the fight in the 6th round by knockout.

Patterson vs. Liston I & II

After the third Johansson fight, Patterson defended the title in Toronto on December 4 against Tom McNeeley and retained the title with a fourth-round knockout. However he did not fight number-one contender Sonny Liston. This was due in part to Cus D'Amato, who did not want Patterson in the ring with a boxer with mob connections. As a result, D'Amato turned down any challenges involving the IBC. Eventually, due to a monetary dispute with Jimmy Jacobs, Patterson removed D'Amato from handling his business affairs and agreed to fight Liston.

Leading up to the fight, Liston was the major betting-line favorite, though Sports Illustrated predicted that Patterson would win in 15 rounds. Jim Braddock, Jersey Joe Walcott, Ezzard Charles, Rocky Marciano and Ingemar Johansson picked Patterson to win. The fight also carried a number of social implications. Liston's connections with the mob were well known and the NAACP was concerned about having to deal with Liston's visibility as World Champion and had encouraged Patterson not to fight Liston, fearing that a Liston victory would tarnish the civil rights movement. Patterson said John F. Kennedy also did not want him to fight Liston.

Patterson lost his title to Liston in Chicago on September 25, 1962, by a first-round knockout in front of 18,894 fans. The two fighters were a marked contrast. In the ring, Liston's size and power proved too much for Patterson's guile and agility. However, Patterson did not use his speed to his benefit. According to Sports Illustrated writer Gilbert Rogin, Patterson did not punch enough and frequently tried to clinch with Liston. Liston battered Patterson with body shots and then shortened up and connected with two double hooks high on the head. The result at the time was the third-fastest knockout in boxing history. After being knocked out, Patterson left Comiskey Park in Chicago wearing dark glasses and a fake beard for the drive back to New York. After the fight, questions were raised on whether the fight was fixed to set up a more lucrative rematch. Overnight, Patterson seemed to lose his public support as a result of his swift knockout.

The rematch was set for April 1963; however, Liston injured his knee swinging a golf club and the fight was delayed three months to July 22. In Las Vegas that night, Patterson attempted to become the first boxer to win the heavyweight title three times, but Liston once again knocked him out in the first round. Patterson lasted four seconds longer than in the first bout.

Post-title career

Following these defeats, Patterson went through a depression. However, he eventually recovered and began winning fights again, including top victories over Eddie Machen and George Chuvalo; the Chuvalo match won The Ring's "Fight of the Year" award.

Patterson was now the number-one challenger for the title held by Muhammad Ali. On November 22, 1965, in yet another attempt to be the first to win the world heavyweight title three times, Patterson lost by technical knockout at the end of the 12th round, going into the fight with an injured sacro-iliac joint in a bout in which Ali was clearly dominant. Ali called Patterson an "Uncle Tom" for refusing to call him Muhammad Ali (Patterson continued to call him Cassius Clay) and for his outspokenness against black Muslims. Instead of scoring a quick knockout, Ali mocked, humiliated and punished Patterson throughout the fight but was unable to knock him out before the referee finally stopped the fight in the 12th round.

Patterson remained a legitimate contender. In 1966 he traveled to England and knocked out British boxer Henry Cooper in just four rounds at Wembley Stadium.

In September 1969 he divorced his first wife, Sandra Hicks Patterson, who wanted him to quit boxing, while he still had hopes for another title shot.

When Ali was stripped of his title for refusing induction into the military, the World Boxing Association staged an eight-man tournament to determine his successor. Patterson fought Jerry Quarry to a draw in 1967. In a rematch four months later, Patterson lost a controversial 12-round decision to Quarry. Subsequently, in a third and final attempt at winning the title a third time, Patterson lost a controversial 15-round referee's decision to Jimmy Ellis in Sweden, despite breaking Ellis's nose and scoring a disputed knockdown.

Patterson continued on, defeating Oscar Bonavena in a close fight over ten rounds in early 1972.

At age 37, Patterson was stopped after seven rounds with a cut eye while still competitive in a rematch with Muhammad Ali for the NABF heavyweight title on September 20, 1972. The defeat proved to be Patterson's last fight, although there was never an announcement of retirement.

Retired life

In retirement, he and Ingemar Johansson became good friends who flew across the Atlantic to visit each other every year and he served two terms as chairman of the New York State Athletic Commission. He was also inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1991.

Patterson lived in New Paltz, New York for many years. In 1982 and 1983 he ran the Stockholm Marathon together with Ingemar Johansson.

His adopted son, Tracy Harris Patterson, was a world champion boxer in the 1990s and was trained by Floyd during part of his career. They are the first father and son to win world titles in boxing. Floyd also trained Canadian heavyweight Donovan "Razor" Ruddock in 1992 for his fights with Greg Page, Phil Jackson, and Lennox Lewis.

The New Paltz High School football field was named "Floyd Patterson Field" in 1985.

Death

Patterson suffered from Alzheimer's disease and prostate cancer in his final years. He died at home in New Paltz, where he lived for many years with his second wife, Janet Sequist, on May 11, 2006 at the age of 71. His body was buried at New Paltz Rural Cemetery in New Paltz, Ulster County, New York.

Quotes

"It's easy to do anything in victory. It's in defeat that a man reveals himself."

"They said I was the fighter who got knocked down the most, but I also got up the most." (This quote was used in the tenth episode of the 2009 TV series V.)

"When you have millions of dollars, you have millions of friends."

On boxing: "It's like being in love with a woman. She can be unfaithful, she can be mean, she can be cruel, but it doesn't matter. If you love her, you want her, even though she can do you all kinds of harm. It's the same with me and boxing. It can do me all kinds of harm but I love it."

#01/04 #05/11

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evanstanhoney · 6 years ago

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Saved (part viii)/Vampire!Shawn

a/n: this is by far my favorite chapter I’ve written for Saved so far. I’ve had it in my head for ages and I’m happy to finally post it! also if you get the references in it please tell me ;) also you get a gold star!

saved masterlist

*Chicago, 1891*

“Well love, I’m waiting,” Clyde whispered into your ear, pulling you from your sinful thoughts.

The room was loud and obnoxious, and if it weren’t for the drink in your hand or Clyde's arm around your waist you’d go mad.

“For what?” he smirked down at you, taking a sip from his own drink, smug as ever.

“Fine, you were right. It’s not so bad here,” he places a triumphant peck on your cheek and you pull away, “I still miss London though!”

“London was fun. But we outgrew it, sweets. Now we’re on to bigger and greater things Chicago is a great fit,” he chuckles into your ear, placing a kiss to the side of your head.

He was right, the two of you were starting to gain a bit of a reputation in London and it was only a matter of time before the two of you got caught, well you got caught. You weren’t happy about it in the slightest, you were finally out of the states and the last thing you wanted was to come back. You wanted to travel the world with him, but it was all about ‘patience.’ But Chicago was starting to grow on you, and it so far it proved to be the playground Clyde claimed it would be. You were just over ten years old, but it felt like you’d turned yesterday. The hunger never went away, and you felt like you were on edge all the time, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In some ways it was….exhilarating.

He waves down one of the barmaids, and she skips her way down, leaning too far against the bar. She was a pretty girl, clearly into Clyde, but far too easy.

“Can I get another for me and the lady please.”

“Of course sir,” the young lady smirks and quickly makes her way off to prepare the drinks.

You scan the room again like you’d been doing all night trying to find the right girl. It was more difficult here than in London, you’d found. For one thing, the places were far too loud. Too many businessmen in suits with pretty girls in their laps with obnoxious laughs for you to concentrate. It wasn’t the worst brothel you’d been too so far in Chicago, but the ones in London were far nicer. And the girls here were far too eager. It was their job to show interest of course but it was never any fun if they didn’t put up any kind of fight.

“Do you see anyone you like?” He cooed into your ear. You don’t say anything, eyes too focused on a girl across the room, talking to an older gentleman whose arm was wrapped securely around her waist.

She was beautiful and just Clyde's type. Your type. Dark hair, lighter eyes, and full breasts - she was perfect. And it seemed like she was looking at you; she thought the same of you.

“I thought you might like her,” he smirks, looking between the two of you. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Do you like her?” you ask, eyes never leaving hers.

“It’s not about me tonight. She’s all yours, love.”

You turn to Clyde, slight panic in your eyes. He’s always been the one to pull, especially the women. You pulled the guys sometimes but even then you were too nervous. And he was always best at picking. Everyone he picked was so...fun. And they always tasted so so good. It was like he had a skill you hadn’t mastered yet. There was no way you were ready.

“Go ahead, love. You can do it, just do exactly what I’ve taught you.”

You take a sip of your drink that you hadn’t even noticed was set in front of you, before finally padding your way over to her and the man whose hand has not left her side since you spotted her.

“Hi.”

“Well hello, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. You must be new here.”

“Oh no, I’m not new, I came with someone,” he laughs a hearty laugh, and takes a pull from his cigar, “A young lady like you shouldn’t be in a place like this. Men may get the wrong idea.”

“I think I can manage, thank you for your concern.” You chirp, flashing him a tight smile, but your eyes still fixated on the one you came for. The pretty girl with the dark and light eyes. “Do you mind,” you move past him, taking the young lady by the hand and guiding her to one of the couches in the corner of the room,

“Excuse me -”

“Leave us.”

And just like that, the man walked away. Compulsion. It’s become your new favorite trick, and Clyde taught you well.

The two of you have a seat on the couch, across the room from Clyde, who’s got a perfect sight of the two of you.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here?” the brunette asked, slow eyes glued to your lips.

“The same reason as everyone else.” She leans in closer, placing her hand on top of yours resting on the couch.

“Oh?”

“The gentleman over there,” you point to Clyde and him and he raises glass toward the two of you, a smug grin on his face, “we were wondering if you’d be interested in coming with us. Have a little fun of our own, somewhere a bit more intimate?”

“We aren't typically allowed outside the club while we’re workings” she stammered, unable to keep her focus as you leaned in closer.

“Oh don’t worry, we’ll make it worth your while.”

---

“Honey. Wake up!”

You rose from your sleep by Shawn’s hands framing your face, softly moving your face closer to his to make sure you were okay.

“What-what are you doing in here?” you stammer, voice shaky.

Since the whole Clyde thing, you’ve been different. Shawn could tell, and as much as he wanted to cradle you every night, he let you have your space and went back out on the air mattress. He didn’t mind it all too much. He figured he could watch out for the door, get to Clyde first before he’d get a chance to get to you. He wasn’t happy about it, but if that’s what you needed, who was he to deny you.

“You were talking in your sleep. Are you okay?” he coos, rubbing soothing circles onto your cheek.

Shawn was putting it nicely. What he heard was whimpers of ‘no’ and ‘don’t’ and ‘please’ from you and it scared the living daylights out of him.

“Mhm, yeah. I’m fine,” he doesn’t believe you and you know he doesn’t but he gets up to leave your room anyway. But there’s a sudden mixture of loneliness and fear that hits you that makes you change your mind. “Wait can you - can you stay with me?”

“Of course.”

Like he had on so many nights before, he crawls into your bed, making himself comfortable under the sheets, this time pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

He doesn’t want to ask because he knows the answer, but he can’t hold it in and asks anyway.

“Was it about that Clyde guy?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

He notices the way your body shivers a little at the thought it and he squeezes you a little tighter.

“I know you don’t want me involved, but just know I’ll do everything I can to protect you from him. Okay?”

You turn to look at him, reaching your hand up resting it on his cheek, “You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that.”

“You tell me almost every day,” he laughs and then he gets serious, “This may sound crazy and I know -”

You stop him, then because you know where this is going. “Whatever you think you want to say, don’t. Wait two weeks. If you still feel like you have to say it, then you can tell me then. Deal?”

“Deal.” he concedes.

----

You hadn’t been able to shake your dream --nightmare-- the past few days and being around Shawn was no help. You appreciated how much he cared, but he wasn’t doing much in the way of helping you get your mind off of things, so you dropped by Jame’s to try and be normal for a day.

“Yes, Shawn I’m here. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back okay?” You smile into the phone rolling your eyes fondly.

You hang up the phone. And turn back to James whose giving you the look. Your voice always got a little higher when you talked to Shawn and you there was a little twinkle in your eye, (even when you were annoyed with him) and James always made sure to tease you about it whenever he caught it. Which was always.

“The kid’s getting quite clingy. More than usual at least.”

“He’s a bit freaked out after our apartment was broken into.” The two of you both ignore your slip but you can feel his eyes on you as you shift awkwardly in your spot on the couch.

“Well, his fear isn't completely irrational.”

“You’re my best friend, you're meant to make me feel better. It’s in the job description.”

“My job is to tell you the truth. And pretending the problem isn’t there isn’t a smart idea for anyone. Especially Shawn.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means him being new, makes him vulnerable enough as is. You don’t need to make it worse.”

“Excuse me?!”

There was no reason for you to be as harsh as you were with him. You knew he was right. You really were making things harder on Shawn, but hearing it out loud was

“You know better than anyone else what Clyde is capable of.” you go quietly. You hate to think of your time with him. He was the definition of evil, he never needed a reason, he was just bad for the sake of it. It was fun for him, to strike the fear into anyone that so much as gave him a glance.

“He’ll get bored eventually and move on. Until then we just, keep an eye out, run interference until he backs off.”

“I don’t know about that. This….this shit is getting worse.”

“Please don’t tell me that James.”

You didn’t want to talk about this. You wanted to ignore it, ignore him and wait for it to all blow all over, because for once in your life you were finally happy, and you wanted to hold onto that for as long as you could. Even if it were through rose-colored lenses.

“There are too many people missing. And the attacks? There is no way one vampire could do all of this,” he goes over to his desks in the corner of the room collecting a pile of papers and splays everything out on the coffee table in front of you. It’s a collection of “Missing Person” signs and newspaper clippings from the campus paper and a map. An actual fucking map, complete with connecting dots and circles.

“What are you Sherlock fucking Holmes?”

He rolls his eyes at you but continues on not letting your little sassy fit distract him, “Look, I’ve been looking through everything and the people that are missing. I don’t think they are missing. They just don’t want to be found.”

“Those kids have been missing for weeks, and at the risk of sounding incredibly morbid the likelihood of them being alive is slim to none.

“We’re vampires, and our other friend is a witch. Do you really think it’s that simple?”

“Okay, then what?”

You take a minute to think because he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for the correct answer at a spelling bee competition but you can’t wrack your brain to find an answer. The situation seems pretty clear, Clyde is coming through town wreaking havoc completely ruining your life again and - “No..no,” you shake your head grabbing one of the missing posters, “There’s no way. Right? I mean why would he. He can’t.”

“Yes. Clyde's got a nest,” he clears some things away from the map, pulling out a red marker, “It’s the only thing makes sense. The disappearances happened first, and then the attacks. Smaller clusters at first and then all of a sudden - a bunch of them at the same time, every single one of them sloppy and impulsive,” he leans in closer shoving a copy of a few police reports from a folder, “People have started to report sightings of some of the missing. Obviously, the cops aren’t doing shit about it. They’ve got it all in their heads that everyone is dead and folks are just grasping at straws. But it’s only a matter of time before an overzealous rookie fresh out of the academy goes poking around and finds something.”

If what’s happening is what James says it is then it’s worse than its far worse than what either of you could have ever imagined.

New vampires left to their own devices is in itself a dangerous situation. They were impulsive and incredibly impressionable. They come in contact with the wrong person and there’s not telling the horrors that could happen. Take that throw Clyde into the mix and is a passion for creating nests in peaceful communities and its a recipe for disaster.

But factor in Shawn and you’ve got a whole new set of problems. You’d been working with Shawn, and he’s been doing great, but he’s still only a few months old. The same power Clyde has on these new vampires he’s making is the same power he can have over Shawn. If he comes into contact with Clyde or any of his Progenies you could lose him.

When you don’t say anything for a while he already knows where your mind has gone.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to him.” You sit up, changing the subject trying to get to the bottom of this. If there was no ignoring it now might as well dive in head first.

“If they are attacking in light hours that means they’ve got to have a witch with them right? Someone's got to be making a shit ton of daylight jewelry.”

“I already talked to Piper. If any new witches came to town her family would know about it,” he looks around the table of papers like he’ll find the answer to all his questions underneath one of the highlighters, “I just can't figure out what he wants”

“You really think he needs a reason.”

“Well, the only way to find out, and to fix this is to go talk to him.”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“Maybe. But I can’t think of a better way to end this than for you to go to him ask him what he’s doing here, meet whatever demands he has, and do whatever to get him out of here.”

“You really think simply asking Clyde to stop would do anything?” you rolled your eyes letting out a bitter laugh.

“Look. I know you were with Clyde for a long time, and you think you know him. But I’ve been around a lot longer than you and I know when things are going to get bad. And the way things are going, shit’s going to hit the fan quick. Now, unless you have a death wish, which… I don’t think you do, if we don’t do something this is not going to end well.”

“You don’t know that.”

“What I know is he and his little degenerates are drawing too much attention. Attention brings hunters and hunters get us staked.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re like my sister, and I love you. But when it comes to Shawn you need to be smart. For the two of you,” he looks at you tilts his head to the side, “ I know you, and I know you’re in love with the kid and you're worried about him. But if Clyde doesn’t kill him, you keeping things from him will. You’ve got to talk to him. This involves him now.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“At least start with the sire bond. After that, as much as you can.” He knew anything featuring Clyde was a soft spot for you, so he didn’t want to push you too far.

“I just want him to go away.”

“I know you do. We’ll sort it out okay? We always do.”

-------

You completely lost track of time while you were at James’ but apparently Shawn hadn’t. As soon as you walked through the door all you saw broad shoulders and curls pacing your small apartment, obviously too in his own head to hear you coming up the stairs. He didn’t turn until you closed the door behind you.

“Honey! Where were you, I’ve been calling,” he spoke sternly with every intention of sounding authoritative, instead, it was adorable, just like everything else he did.

Laughing a little, your mood instantly lifted, “I’m sorry, my phone died. I was at James’.”

“Okay well, bring an extra charger with you or something,” he says through a huff, hands on his hips. He was so protective of you, it was kind of adorable. Okay incredibly adorable.

“Will do, grumpy,” you smile and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist for a tight hug. And everything suddenly hit you. You just got dealt a handful of terrifying news, news that involved Shawn, and his safety. And your safety. It was all too much and you just needed a long tight Shawn hug.

“Hey, are you okay?” he pulls your head up to look at him and his pout matches yours.

“Let's go out this weekend! Let’s go somewhere. ”

“What?” he laughs at your sudden mood swing. You hadn’t been right since the break-in, and it’s little moments like these that really made Shawn worry.

“Let’s do something to distract ourselves from all this bullshit.”

“Yeah okay. Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere special. I want to show you something.

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