patrick-pass

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This is the third fic I’ve written based on this storyline from 6.8.  So following ones about Patrick and Sister Julienne, it is now Shelagh’s turn. 

I hope you like it :)

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Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!

Part 5. Anne and Declan

He’d lost so much she felt she couldn’t take anything more from him so she told him though she knew the risk, that he would turn his face away from her, push her gently from his side without any discussion, mutter, Go, just…go and be silent, holding his breath while she gathered her skirts and rose, walking as gracefully from the room as her namesake had walked to the block.

“You’re not the only man I’ve loved, Declan.”

There was the sound of the night in the hospital—men everywhere and somehow nowhere, the orderlies’ boots in the hall, a nun, always a nun praying, her habit making its own prayer against the floorboards and then Declan spoke.

“Aye, well, you’re not the only woman I’ve loved either, Annie. Did you think it would trouble me?”

“I wanted you to know the truth,” she said, loosening her hands in her lap.

“I’m glad of it but that’s not the answer to my question, is it?” he said calmly, shifting in the bed. She leaned over and adjusted the pillow that had moved, moving his shoulders and straightening the blanket over him, smiling as he sighed with relief.

“I was…afraid. I thought you ought to know who you were marrying. Do you want me to tell you more?” she said, thinking of Robert the first time he’d seen her and the last, how he’d caught at her hand, of William who’d promised to come back when he joined the Navy and never had, of how Byron had looked up at her drowsily from her breast and how he grinned at her every deception.

“Not especially. You’re not planning to jilt me for any of them, are you?” he said easily and she choked on the laugh she couldn’t stop.

“No! I’d never—all I want is to marry you, to be Mrs. Brannan,” she declared and he reached over to pat her hand with his, the one that was not crabbed and bandaged, ruined despite Jed Foster’s finest work. She had thanked God for Declan’s injuries, severe enough to keep him away from any other battle but still repairable, needing the skill and delicacy only Foster possessed with his Parisian training. Byron had not made a peep when she insisted Foster take Declan’s case. Even so, Declan had lost the eye and his right hand was hardly more than a stump; his leg had fared better but it was likely he’d be lame. He’d woken from the chloroform entirely himself, taking a full accounting of his injuries for a moment before remarking, “Seems I’ve kept my silver tongue at least and that counts for something for an Irishman!

“We’re in agreement then, as all I want is to make you mine, wreck of a man that I am,” he said, grinning so roguishly she couldn’t keep her hand from brushing the hair off his forehead, stroking his cheek.

“You’re not a wreck,” she said.

“Did the other men believe your lies, love? For I shan’t and I don’t. But I suppose I’m enough of a man to know what I want, to be grateful for what I don’t deserve,” he replied, holding her hand in his, his touch reminding her of the night they’d spent together, how much delight he’d brought her and how he’d enjoyed her cries, how she’d pulled him to her, demanded he give her more like that oh never stop, the most amiable ravishment she could imagine. It would be weeks before they might consummate their marriage but they were both clever and greedy of any joy to be had.

“You mustn’t say that. That I’m more than you deserve, you’re mistaken,” she said and he squeezed her hand. Tomorrow that might hurt, if the ring he gave her pressed into her palm. It was a pain she would welcome.

“I know you were angry at Dr. Foster, that he couldn’t do better by me, but Annie, one eye is all I need to see,” he replied and looked at her intently with the one he had left, with its long, dark lashes and the chalcedony gleam of the iris. “Now, kiss me one last time as Miss Hastings and off to bed with you. Next time, I shall be kissing Mrs. Brannan and she’s the highest of standards.”

She bent over and kissed him softly, deeply, tasting the tonic she’d given him, feeling the way he wanted her, the low sound he made that was part gasp, part moan, an ardent desire that left her dizzy because there was no part of her he knew and did not want, no aspect unknown and unknowable. She put a hand on the bed’s frame to steady herself as she drew back, watching him lick his lips and gaze at her appreciatively.

“Mind you rest. You’ve a long day ahead of you,” she said.

“I wish it were a long night ahead,” he said and she laughed.

“Soon enough, Declan.”

#TBT to that time Sharpy chirped Tazer through Kaner (because Jonny still doesn’t have his own Twitter account…)

  • patrick stump falls: patrick thump
  • patrick stump got the booty: patrick rump
  • patrick stump cheers: patrick pump
  • patrick stump plays the trumpet: patrick trump
  • patrick stump passes out: patrick lump
  • patrick stump gets angry: patrick grump
  • patrick stump stubs his toe: patrick bump
  • patrick stump has bad posture: patrick slump
  • patrick stump cosplays sherlock holmes: patrick jump

Texas eyes North Carolina-inspired bathroom bill, seems cool with losing millions

  • The backlash against transgender rights has moved to Texas, where Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick is picking up where North Carolina left off.
  • Patrick has listed passing the “Women’s Privacy Act,” which requires people to use restrooms that correspond to the gender they were assigned at birth, as a priority for the upcoming legislative session.
  • The bill has split the business and religious wings of the state party because of its estimated costs to state commerce.
  • According to the 4,300-member Texas Association of Business, it could cost the state at least $964 million.
  • “The message from the Texas business community is loud and clear,” Chris Wallace, president of the Texas Association of Business, said at a news conference in December, according to the Texas Tribune. 
  • “Protecting Texas from billions of dollars in losses is simple: Don’t pass unnecessary laws that discriminate against Texans and our visitors.” Read more
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a year or two ago i toyed with the idea of starting to  document/collect queer narratives here in Ghana in other for there to be some kind of reference point, an archive of sorts for the future. I  Never really thought i would set off this year, actually collaborating with all sorts of brave amazing people, some i knew already, others i had to know from scratch. living, making memories together, lending our lives to this record.

perhaps the biggest fear that drove me to start this was that of erasure, with history, and though that fear still lurks around, i am super grateful for these first steps, especially to all the participants of this project;, those whose houses and couches i hijacked for weeks, for Patrick who passed away two weeks after our brief exchange, for those who helped me up when i felt i couldn’t complete this, for those who took me to my first drag show, for all the badly fried chicken i had to swallow down,  for Alex and kwasi for the best Emotuo/grandnut soup ever, all the advice from benard and kwasi ohene before i even began, for the resources, for Andrea Stultiens’s constant feedback , for my amazing friend Kwasi, noticing that i had no clue how to start this and  offering, “ you can start with me first, at least you know me”, for the fuckers who attacked us in winneba giving me my first awful taste of “apparent” sexuality based violence in a town that is otherwise incredibly accepting, for all the back and forth with Moses for the show, for Robert Frank,   Lyle Ashton Harris, Robert Doisneau, Zanele Muholi, James Barnor, Nan Goldin for being on my mind throughout this work, for Nuku studio workshop & participants for opening me up, for magnum foundations support for the work, for my brother Kwame for the financial support, for Nubuke gallery for hosting the exhibition and excluding the fact that its an exhibition about QUEER people from their handouts, for Atsu and his incredible spirit, for all partiicipants at the exhibtion and those who have lent a listening ear during any one of my presentations.

Thank you! i am grateful.

© 2016 ERIC GYAMFI

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Since St Patrick’s Day just passed I got some potato quality photos for y’all. :D

The previous homeowners left behind this mirror so I decided to use it for our ceremony sign. First, I removed it from it’s frame and wrote up Kairi’s Letter in photoshop. I then ordered a vinyl decal of it because I have no confidence in my penmanship. 

We just dropped the mirror off at Michael’s today for custom framing. We totally lucked out because it was 70% today and saved about $200. The final product will be ready in about two weeks. But don’t expect photos until the wedding. I gotta have some surprises saved right? ;)

Panarin talked to myself and a few other fans… His face lit up when he saw my sign after the game and he signed it. The girl by me had a sign that said something like ‘We Want An Artemi Hat Trick’ in Russian. They asked if the sign was right, and he said ‘Yes, you know Patrick? Patrick Kane?’ we were all like ‘Yeaaa….’ he was like ‘tell Patrick to pass me the puck and maybe’

His english was actually really good and we understood him.

He is precious and adorable and I love him.