#{no idea how these two are meeting across their nearly 300 year time difference BUT PROUD ANCESTOR TREVOR LOL}

[cursefelled]

@cursegiven​ said: ❝   i’m thinking about coming home. ❞ ||  * 𝚅𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙹𝙾𝚈

“What shall you do once there?” There is a strange, burning humour to the tune of the hunter’s voice contained in its ordinary dignity; at odds with the curiosity that is genuine in his words, perfectly at home with the broadening smile on Trevor’s lips. There is a blaze in this one; there has to be in every Belmont son. It prides him greatly to know it for himself. “It isn’t to a Belmont’s nature not to have an end in mind. As any son of mine, I’d say you must be after something a little more than merely the comfort of our ancestral grounds. You are one that doesn’t come easy to rest. Not so unlike me.”

[sunlightdances]

Safe Place to Land (Modern!Bucky x Reader)

Author: Katie @sunlightdances​ Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Rating: PG-13 for swearing. No trigger warnings except some alcohol use and drunkenness, and if awkwardness makes you feel weird, which-- SAME. Slow burn. Two idiots. Words: 8K+ aka HOW DID THIS GET SO LONG Summary: Modern!AU. You and Bucky are both standing up for Steve and Peggy’s wedding. Checking in at the hotel for the weekend, you’re horrified to realize there’s been a problem. A big problem. Prompt Filled: “Only one bed” Author’s Note: This is for @fanfictionaries​’ Classic Trope Challenge! Congrats on 300 followers, and thanks for hosting! This was so fun to write. Special thanks to @writeyourmindaway​ for the divider at the beginning and the flower divider throughout the post! Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes or Marvel. I also don’t own the song “Dance with Me” by Kelsea Ballerini, which is where the title comes from. The plot is mine! Please don’t repost my work on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my permission. If you like what you read, please reblog to help share my work!

You’re late.

It’s truly a scene from a movie - you dashing through the airport, your rolling suitcase clicking behind you as it hits every line in the tile. People are staring, and you’re embarrassed, but you don’t have time to be.

Peggy will kill you if you miss this flight.

You’ll kill you if you miss this flight. Not for the first time, you curse Steve Rogers and his romantic streak for having a destination wedding. Especially because it’s going to be small. An exclusive wedding that could have just as easily been done in New York… you stop yourself.

You’re happy to be going to London. You’ve never been before, and you’re even happier to be going to celebrate the wedding of two of your closest friends.

It’s been over a decade since the first time you met Steve Rogers, alone and out of place in New York City, and at first you didn’t bother him - he was clearly going through something, and through your nosy neighbor, you knew he was recently back from a tour in Afghanistan. You were unable to stay away for long though, especially when you could hear the nightmares through the apartment walls, and could hear the grief he was struggling to control.

A casserole outside his door and a late night coffee break later, the two of you were fast friends. He trusted you with his story, and the look on his face when you introduced him to your coworker Peggy sealed your friendship for good.

Finally arriving at the gate, you nearly knock over a very tired, very irritated looking Bucky Barnes, and roll your eyes to the heavens, because of course you’re on the same flight. Why wouldn’t you be? You suspect foul play by your conniving best friend, but you don’t have time to complain about it.

Bucky’s already glaring at you. “You’re late--”

“I know. How did you even know I was going to be on this flight?”

“Steve mentioned it. Said to make sure you didn’t get left behind.”

You roll your eyes, collapsing into a chair near the gate as the boarding process begins, out of breath from your sprint through the airport. “He worries too much.”

“You are late, though.”

You glare right back at him, but can’t help but give him what you hope is a subtle once over - right from the top of his baseball-cap covered head to his Nike-covered feet. It’s really not fair that he still manages to look like a runway model at four in the morning.

Finally you’re called for boarding, and you push past Bucky to get on the plane, where you have plans to promptly fall asleep and hopefully be out for the next several hours.

“Me again,” you hear his deep voice before you open your eyes, and you’re treated to the truly amazing sight of Bucky Barnes’ abs when his shirt rides up as he puts his bag in the overhead bin.

“Terrific,” you mutter, and he snorts.

“Go to sleep.” The heat practically radiates off him as he sits down next to you, him in the aisle seat and you in the dreaded middle seat.

You really are tired - there was a reason you were running late. You have a habit of working too late and not getting enough sleep, another reason you were looking forward to this wedding. Ten full days in England. No work, just rest. And a wedding. But besides that--! No obligations. You can practically feel the stress melting off you.

Almost as soon as the plane takes off and you start to doze, the man on the other side of you starts talking. At first you think he’s talking to Bucky across you, but it becomes clear he wants to get to know you better when he starts asking about your job, and finally, if you’re single.

You crack open an eye in disbelief, and open your mouth to respond before Bucky leans over and says quietly, but firmly, “No, she’s not. Sorry, dude.”

Bucky’s forearm is pressing into yours, and you scowl at him before the other guy replies.

“Oh, sorry. Should have guessed.”

“Don’t worry, it surprises a lot of people,” you tell him. Including me. You look back at Bucky with a what the hell look on your face, and he shrugs.

Shifting, he lifts the armrest between you and leans in, whispering. “Unless you wanted him to hit on you for the rest of this flight?”

You groan internally, because there’s nothing you hate more than when Bucky has a point.

It’s not like you hate Bucky. He just-- he knows how to push your buttons. Being Steve’s best friend in the entire world, it was a packaged deal. Bucky came home a year after Steve. He was injured, and angry, and wanted nothing to do with the same type of optimism you tried to supply Steve with.

You were okay with that. Not everyone is wired the same, and you had no business butting into Bucky’s life just because you were able to help Steve adjust to life after the Army.

He warmed up eventually, after he and Steve both started going to VA meetings and were slowly working through things, though you knew there was a chance that the Bucky Barnes you were going to get to know would be nothing like the Bucky that Steve told you stories about.

Still, it has always seemed like there’s something else there. Something under the surface that makes Bucky wary of you.

You’re civil and have come to accept the facts: you and Bucky will never be friends.

That’s why you’re so suspicious of his behavior on this flight. You figured he’d be rather amused by you getting hit on at 20,000 feet.

Right before you fall asleep, you put that thought safely into the box labeled Reasons You Will Never Understand Bucky and leave it at that. 

You wake up to turbulence, and Bucky’s elbow jamming into your ribs.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and when he steadies you, you realize you were leaning into him while asleep, and feel your face turn hot.

You don’t say anything - too worried you’re going to put your foot in your mouth. “What time is it?” You ask instead, and he blinks at you.

“No idea. I was asleep.”

“Oh.”

The silence that settles between you is a little awkward, but you try your best to get over it. It’s dark on the plane. Your left leg is asleep and your neck is so tense you wonder how you managed to sleep at all. Probably because you had the world’s most attractive body pillow, you think.

You pull your tablet out of the seat-back in front of you and turn the brightness way down. Opening a book you’ve been reading, you check the time. Seeing you still have a few hours before you land, you try to get comfortable before you start reading.

You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you off and on for the next few minutes and you try to ignore the feeling it gives you - the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, and when you catch him before he can look away, you feel the jolt through your entire body.

That’s new.

Finally, the announcement comes that you’re landing in fifteen minutes, and everyone around you starts to gather their things and get restless. You feel the excitement building in you like a live thing, and roll your eyes when you see Bucky smirking at you.

“Leave me alone; I’ve never been to England before.”

His smile falters, just the tiniest bit. “It’s nice. You’ll like it.”

It’s a weird comment, but you don’t say anything else. You have a vague memory of Steve telling you Bucky was airlifted to Germany and then to London before coming home after his accident, and you don’t want to say the wrong thing. Contrary to what he thinks, you actually don’t want to argue with him all the time, but especially not on this trip.

Heathrow is a madhouse. It’s even busier than when you left New York, and you’re a little overwhelmed, plus jet lagged. A great combo.

You and Bucky get your bags from baggage claim and then he turns to you, looking a little worse for wear. “I’m assuming we’re at the same hotel.”

“Hopefully not the same hotel Steve and Peg are in.”

Bucky looks like he’s trying not to laugh, but still remains stoic.

“Oh come on,” you say as the two of you head to try to find a cab. “You know if we’re in the same hotel they’ll be calling all hours of the day to get us to do last minute stuff for them. I agreed to be a bridesmaid, not the wedding planner.”

Like the sun finally breaking through, Bucky actually smiles at that, and not for the first time in your sort-of-friendship, you’re struck by it, by how it changes his entire face and makes him look like a completely different person.

“Steve’s been driving me a little crazy, I have to admit.”

After verifying you are both staying in the same hotel where the majority of the wedding guests are, you fall silent as you take in the scenery zooming past in the cab.

Soon you’re approaching the most beautiful hotel you’ve ever seen, and you stare, open-mouthed, because this cannot be the place you booked. You were given the name of a hotel that Peggy said was nice and reasonably priced that most of the other guests were using, and you expected it to be-- well, not like the place she and Steve were staying.

Still: this is-- too much. Opulent doesn’t even cover it.

“Wow,” Bucky says next to you, uncharacteristically awed by the sight.

In the lobby, you’re even more convinced this is all a scam. Which is why when the concierge tells you there’s a problem, you’re almost not surprised.

“I’m so sorry - we have names for both of you on the reservation list, but it seems like they’ve put you both in the same room.”

A pin could be heard dropping for how quiet you and Bucky get.

He’s the first to speak. “I’m sorry?”

“There must have been a mistake… we’re full the next two weeks with several wedding parties and whoever booked it must have made a mistake.” She’s perfectly apologetic, in that British way, but you’re having trouble getting past the idea that you’re going to have to live with Bucky Barnes for 10 days.

“Can I just get another room?” You blurt.

“I’m sorry - we’re booked. There aren’t any other rooms.”

Bucky turns to you. “Look, it’s fine. Where else are you going to go?”

You feel something like panic welling up inside you. You and Bucky, sharing a room for ten days. How are you going to survive what’s sure to be the most awkward thing you’ve ever had to do in your life?

Better yet: how are you going to live with the teasing from Steven Grant Rogers when he finds out you have to be roommates with his best friend?

You sigh.

“The same room it is.” 

This can’t be real, you think. It’s too cliche.

“Um,” you say out loud, elegantly, “There’s only one bed.”

“Appears that way.”

“Well? What are we going to do?”

Bucky looks at you, blank. “We’re grown. I feel like this isn’t that big of a deal.”

You feel semi-hysterical laughter bubbling inside you, because this is very much a big deal. Especially when you’re just sort of admitting to yourself that your tiny crush on Bucky hasn’t waned over the years. You’ve always found him attractive and had no problem acknowledging that, but this? This is just too rom-com, even for you.

“It’s ten days. You don’t have a problem sharing a room with me for ten days?”

He shrugs. “What else am I going to do? Can’t bunk up with Steve. We’ll be busy with wedding stuff for the next two days anyway, and then afterwards… I don’t know. I figured you’d be sightseeing?”

You stare at him. “Okay, but… what are you going to be doing?”

He looks down. “Hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. You assume I’m here as long as you are,” he points out.

He’s right - you have no idea how long Bucky booked this trip for. Without wanting to pry, you’re again reminded that he has a small history here, and probably one that he doesn’t want to re-live.

You’re interrupted by Bucky’s phone ringing, and you busy yourself unpacking while he answers it.

“Hey, Steve.” He says, his voice entirely different when he talks to his best friend. “Yeah, just got to the hotel.” A few beats. “I was probably just going to crash for the night…”

You get a text from Peggy almost at the same time, asking if you want to meet her and Steve for dinner, and meet Bucky’s eyes. You must look as tired as he feels, because he makes another excuse.

“If Katie’s not going to be there, I don’t want to be third wheel with you two lovebirds.” Another beat. “Yeah, let’s do breakfast. I’ll call you in the morning.”

You tap out a response to Peggy about jet lag and already being in bed (and it’s not like you don’t want to see your best friend, you’re just-- there’s too many things happening right now for you to even think about going out for a late dinner), and toss your phone towards the bed.

Yet another reminder of the fact that you’re going to be sharing with Bucky Barnes as soon as you’re both exhausted enough to sleep.

When he hangs up, you look at him curiously. “You didn’t mention anything about our living arrangements.”

He sighs. “Look, Steve’s stressed out enough. He doesn’t need to worry about this mixup too. Besides, it’s fine. It’s just sleeping.”

You hate yourself for the heat you feel at the thought of sharing a bed with him, even though it’s a fleeting feeling that you force away. “Yeah. Just sleeping.”

Bucky says he wants a shower and you offer to order room service. It’s almost 10pm, but you both know you won’t be able to sleep on an empty stomach.

When Bucky comes out of the bathroom, you feel like a teenager. Even he looks a little flushed, but you think it’s from embarrassment. “I-- forgot a change of clothes. Sorry.” He looks so chagrined, you can’t help but snicker.

“Buck, you’re offending my delicate sensibilities.”

His eyes go a little wide and you realize you’ve never called him by that familial version of his nickname before, but it just -- you’ve known the guy almost as long as you’ve known Steve. It just slipped out.

He recovers quickly, winking at you. “Honey, we all know there’s nothing delicate about you.”

You both freeze, both taken aback by the sultry lilt to his voice as he teases you, and again, you’re saved by an interruption - this time a knock on the door saying room service has arrived.

Bucky heads back to the bathroom to change, and you gulp in a few deep breaths before answering the door to get the food.

A whole night of this. You have no idea how you’re going to survive. 

Your alarm goes off way too early. In reality, it’s eight in the morning, but you still feel like you’ve been hit over the head with something heavy after a day of traveling.

Moreover, you feel like something heavy is actually on you, and you peek open a bleary eye to see Bucky over your shoulder, his arm slung across your waist like it was always meant to be there.

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping you don’t wake him, but also wanting to get out of this situation as soon as possible. You scramble for your phone, the groan leaving him as he wakes up a noise you try to convince yourself you don’t want to hear again.

“What time is it,” he asks, his voice rough with sleep. You shiver.

“Eight,” you reply, finally reaching your phone and sliding a thumb across the screen to turn the alarm off.

He realizes his position and rolls away from you casually, so you mentally decide to pretend you weren’t cuddled up to him for most of the night.

You already have a text from Peggy asking if you want to join her, Steve, and Bucky for breakfast, so you have no choice but to get up and shower, trying to forget the warm feeling of being held by Bucky Barnes.

In an hour, you’re both waiting on a busy street for the almost-newlyweds, and you see them before they see you, Steve’s broad form and Peggy’s impeccable posture unmistakable. You smile unconsciously - they look so happy. You feel a pang though, because you don’t think you’ve ever been with someone who made you feel so carefree.

“Short stuff!” Steve calls, and you roll your eyes, muttering under your breath about how you’re not that short while Bucky snickers next to you, but before you can berate Steve, he’s gathering you into a hug, nearly lifting you off the ground.

Over Steve’s shoulders you see Bucky give Peggy a kiss on the cheek and a shy smile as they hug, exchanging quiet words.

You and Peggy might have known each other first, but she and Bucky bonded right away, making you wonder (not for the first time) why it seemed to be only you that Bucky had trouble getting to know. You brush off the thought - this week was about your friends and their wedding, and you were going to stop worrying about anything that wasn’t making sure this wedding was perfect.

“Missed you,” Steve whispered, “Did you get in okay? Bucky said you were late.”

You roll your eyes again. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He smiles. “Go say hi to Peg. She’s excited you’re here.” He gives your shoulders a squeeze before passing you off to Peggy, who hugs you so tight you can barely breathe.

“You look so--” you sigh, unable to find the words, “Happy. You look so happy, it’s like you’re already married.”

She grins. “I’ve been dreaming about this day for years. I’m excited.”

The four of you sit down to eat and you have the best breakfast you’ve ever eaten. Around a mouthful, you tell the table, “I never want to eat anything but these potatoes for the rest of my life.”

The rest of the meal is spent talking about the wedding and any last minute items that need to be done before the rehearsal dinner later that night. It sounds like everything is going as planned, which doesn’t surprise you when it comes to Peggy Carter.

“And so far everyone has arrived, we think. Have you run into anyone at the hotel?” Steve asks, and you and Bucky both freeze, before he speaks.

“Not… no. Haven’t seen anyone else yet.”

Steve looks between the two of you, eyes narrowed. “What? What happened?” He puts down his fork. “You can’t be fighting already, it’s only been--”

“They gave us one room.” You blurt. “There was a mixup and we have to share a room.”

Bucky steps on your foot hard, because you’ve forgotten his warning about not telling Steve and keeping the groom from stressing out the day before his wedding.

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, waving a hand. “It’s just sleeping.”

You want to scream. Was it just sleeping when we cuddled all night? There wasn’t even alcohol involved!

“Right.” You say brightly, “It’s fine. No big deal.”

Steve is frowning. “I can call--”

“No!” You and Bucky both exclaim.

“Please don’t worry about this. It’s a non-issue,” You say, looking to Peggy for reassurance.

“They’re adults, Steve.”

“Adults who always seem to want to rip each other’s heads off,” he mutters, reaching for his coffee. Over the rim, he meets your eyes, and you shake your head minutely. Don’t you dare.

Breakfast is a little subdued after that, but soon it’s time for Steve and Peggy to go to the venue to make any last minute changes, leaving you and Bucky to your own devices for a few hours before you have to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.

Before parting ways, your phone buzzes.

Steve Rogers: You sure you’re going to survive this?

You: I will murder you.

Across the sidewalk, Steve snorts.

Steve Rogers: I’m just saying. Your crush is kind of obvious, you know?

You: Lucky for you, Bucky literally pays no attention to me. It’ll be fine.

Steve Rogers: That’s what you think.

You meet Steve’s eyes, trying to figure out what he means, but he just shrugs and puts his phone back in his pocket.

The four of you say your goodbyes, and then you and Bucky are left standing on the street awkwardly.

“I was going to go to a museum--”

“I might check to see if Sam is here yet--”

You both speak at the same time.

Bucky clears his throat. “Right. Well, I’ll go check on Sam and you go to your museum or whatever. You have a room key?”

You nod. “Yep. All set.”

“I guess… have fun. Don’t get lost.”

You scowl. “Great, thank you for your concern.”

You’re halfway down the street when you hear him call, “Don’t be late!”

You flip him off over your shoulder and pretend you don’t hear him laughing as you keep heading down the street in the complete opposite direction. 

You get back to the hotel in the early afternoon so you can shower and start getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. Outside your shared room, you hear voices, so you pause. You can tell one is Bucky, and soon you recognize the other voice is Sam.

“Really, dude. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Bucky’s voice is gruff. “Do I want to be in London? Not particularly. Can I separate my issues from celebrating this wedding? Yes.”

A sigh, but you can’t tell who it comes from.

“It’s okay to have mixed feelings about London.” Sam says. “The last time--”

“I know what happened the last time I was here.” Bucky interrupts, voice firm and icy. “Sorry. I just-- I don’t want to talk about it.”

A pause. “Okay, then let’s talk about your other issue.” Sam says, and even through the door, you can tell he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on! You’re sharing a room with--”

Not wanting to overhear something else you shouldn’t, you hurriedly put your key in the slot and push the door open.

The two men are silent, staring at you, and you can feel the guilty look all over your face, so you try your best to school your expression into nonchalance.

“Long time no see,” Sam says, standing up to give you a hug.

“Hi, Sam.”

You make some small talk and try not to notice how quiet Bucky is being. He can’t really hate this situation that much… right? Or is it just this place in general? You’re too afraid to ask.

After another hour or so, Sam leaves the two of you to get ready himself, and you race to the bathroom to shower and start doing your makeup.

You’re very conscious of the fact that Bucky is getting changed in the room just beside you, so you take your time getting ready, making sure you’ve done every last thing you can think of before you emerge.

You’re not prepared for the sight of him, more dressed up than you’ve ever seen him. A dark blue button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbow, showcasing part of a tattoo that snakes down from his left bicep. His newly-shorn hair is artfully styled, the watch on his right wrist glinting in the late day sun streaming into the room.

God, how are you going to get through tomorrow? Seeing him as one of the groomsmen? You’re going to die.

“You look nice,” you manage, not wanting to stare at him any longer.

He looks like he doesn’t know what to say. You’re not sure if it’s the compliment he’s having trouble with, or what. “Thanks,” he says eventually. “You do too.”

The rehearsal dinner is like a fairytale, just like you knew it would be. The food is great, the company is even better, and even Bucky looks like he’s having a good time. There’s lots of toasting the bride and groom to be, and that involves a lot of drinks. A lot.

By the time you’re walking back to the hotel with Bucky, you’re a little unsteady on your feet, but he’s not doing much better, your hips bumping every few feet as you walk.

“You’re a lightweight,” he laughs, and you attempt to glare at him, but you think it comes off more like you’re leering at him. He reaches for your elbow gently and tugs you into the elevator with him, and it’s a challenge to stop thinking all the inappropriate thoughts that start clouding your mind.

Safely in your room, you sit on the edge of the bed and watch as Bucky starts to get ready for bed. You need to get your makeup off and into your pajamas, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

“You’re staring.”

You grin, “Just enjoying the show.” Instantly horrified, you clap a hand over your mouth. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear it.”

Bucky’s a little pink around the ears, but he looks smug. “So you think I’m hot?”

You groan. “Shut up. You know you’re hot.”

He looks surprised for a half second, and you fall backwards onto the bed.

“Stop it, stop asking me stuff. I can’t be trusted.” Apparently you can’t take your own advice, because you start thinking out loud, “It’s too bad you hate me. We’d be like, the hottest couple of all time.”

It’s silent, and when you finally look up, he’s staring at you, a frown on his face. “Is that what you think?”

“I know we’d be the hottest couple of all time--”

“No,” he interrupts, exasperated. “You think I hate you?”

“I think--” you suddenly clamp your mouth shut. “I think I need to go to the bathroom.” Bolting past him, you make it there in time, and barely register him coming in a few seconds later, holding your hair back.

God. How embarrassing. Love this journey for you, your brain helpfully supplies.

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Bucky helping you out of your dress, and a cool hand on your forehead. Then it all goes black. 

Your alarm goes off early again the next day. Wedding day. You’re due at the venue with the rest of the bridal party at nine to start hair and makeup.

Your mouth feels like it’s made of cotton, and you curse everyone involved in the dinner for doing so many toasts.

“God,” you groan, and when you open your eyes, you see Bucky on the chair in the living area, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. “What--”

“Here,” he says, tossing you your phone, alarm still going off.

There’s a text from Steve asking if you’re alive, and another from Peggy’s bridesmaid group chat with a million love-themed emojis.

“Thanks,” you grumble, bits and pieces of the night before coming back to you. Startled, you look up, “Bucky, I am so sorry--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves a dismissive hand at you.

“I didn’t mean to drink so much. I’m such an annoying drunk. I--”

“Really,” he interrupts your apology, “It’s okay. You weren’t that bad.”

He’s quiet, which isn’t that different, but he looks… more intense than usual. Contemplative. It makes you nervous. Especially because the night before is still coming to you in pieces.

“Have you been up long?” You ask.

His eyes shutter. “A bit. Had trouble sleeping.”

An awkward silence settles. “What time do you have to--”

“You probably need to get going--”

You both speak at the same time, and strangely, your throat feels tight as he won’t meet your eyes. How badly had you screwed things up the night before?

“Right. I do have to get going. Just going to--” you gesture to the bathroom, and he nods. You make your escape into the shower and spend a little longer than necessary in there, trying like hell to figure out what you could have said to him.

It’s hours later before you see Bucky again. You and the rest of the bridal party are helping Peggy with finishing touches, and the photographer is taking action shots, the entire room a mix of blush pink and gauzy white.

Peggy is a vision - her hair curled and pinned in an old-fashioned style befitting a princess, and her lips painted her signature cherry red.

“Steve’s going to die,” you say, grinning at her, and she winks.

“Almost ready, girls?” She asks everyone else, and there’s a cheer before everyone begins to head out into the hall, gathering with the groomsmen to begin the walk down the aisle.

You’re blindsided by the sight of Bucky in his tux. You take a moment to be thankful you’re walking with Sam, not with Bucky, because surely he’d be able to hear the way your heart is pounding just looking at him.

He looks similarly awed, and your ego takes a moment to soak it up before you can feel embarrassed at the attention.

“You’re… you look great.” He says quietly.

“Thank you. You too.”

The smile he gives you is so soft, you can barely stand it.

“Okay Barnes, hands off my date.” Sam interrupts, linking your arm through his.

Bucky rolls his eyes. Before he can say anything else, the procession is starting, and you’re swept up in the romance of this moment finally happening.

Steve cries.

You do a little, too.

You catch Bucky looking at you with those intense eyes during the ceremony twice, and you’re suddenly more nervous than you’ve ever been, because you still have eight days left of your trip. Possibly eight more days rooming with Bucky if he doesn’t leave before you.

If the tension doesn’t kill you, sleeping in the same bed with him again will, for sure.

The reception space is even more beautiful than the ceremony, and even as you sit there, chin in your palm watching Steve and Peggy dance, you think you’ve never felt more romantic in your entire life.

You dance with Sam, and then Steve finds you, his eyes already a little glazed over.

“Come on, you can’t sit there all night.”

You huff as he finds your hand and tugs you out of your seat. “I haven’t been sitting here all night.”

“You’re not going to deny your best friend a dance. That’s that.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as the two of you sway slowly, and when you look up at Steve, he’s only got eyes for Peggy, who’s dancing with Sam on the other side of the room.

“I’m happy for you, Rogers.”

He grins down at you, “When are you going to start trying to make yourself happy?”

You groan. “Steve, don’t.”

“I’m serious! Look… I know Bucky is… he seems serious sometimes, and it can be hard for him to open up, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one notices.”

The thought of it sends butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach, but there’s just no way that could be true. No matter how much of a romantic Steve Rogers is and how much he would love for his best friends to get together, it’s just not going to happen.

“Incoming,” Steve whispers, and you turn over your shoulder to see Bucky there, looking a little sheepish.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Steve steps away from you, and your eyes widen at him, panicking. “No problem,” he says to Bucky, “I’ve got a bride to get back to.”

Bucky takes a step closer. “Dance?”

As if on cue, the DJ plays something soft and slow, and you’re left powerless to resist Bucky and the way he’s looking at you - a little guarded, but still open and vulnerable. You feel like you have no choice but to take his hand, a shock working its way up your arm at the contact.

May my hands be the hands you hold onto When you let go of everything else May my arms be the arms that you fall into When the night gets too heavy to hold by yourself

You feel so self conscious as you dance with Bucky, his touch gentler than you ever allowed yourself to imagine it might be. He holds you close, your clasped hands resting over his heart, and you force yourself to enjoy this quiet moment with him.

If you're looking for a safe place to land I will guide you home And if the levy of your life breaks all your plans You'll never be alone

You think about the first time you met him - he was so different then. The same stoic Bucky Barnes you know now, but less quick to crack a joke or a smile. He stuck close to Steve and Sam, but it was clear to you that there was so much more to him than his outward appearance.

There’s the loyalty he shows to his friends. He’s smart - probably the smartest person you know, and so driven. He’s fiercely protective and is observant to a fault, the result of Army training he’ll probably never get rid of.

And -- you hate to admit it, but there was a time when you thought Steve was right. You’d catch Bucky staring out of the corner of your eye and think maybe, maybe there’s something there. And then like a switch flipped, he was quicker to argue with you, every little thing turning into a reason for the two of you to fight.

Now though, the gentle way he’s holding you and the scent of his cologne flooding your senses… you can almost trick yourself into thinking your feelings are reciprocated. That Bucky was just as nervous around you as you are around him.

The song comes to an end, and so does the moment.

If you dance with me Feel my heartbeat through your body to your feet If you dance with me Hold me in the dark now, until both your eyes can see And if it's you and me against the world If I'm your man, you're my girl We'll win you'll see, if you dance with me

Steve and Peggy are leaving in the morning for Paris for a few days, and then to Spain. You feel a pang of jealousy watching them leave the reception, hands and eyes locked together as if nothing could tear them apart.

For a moment, you so desperately want that kind of affection with someone else. You take a deep breath and force yourself to get it together.

“Share a cab back?” A deep voice behind you asks, and you’re surprised to see Bucky. He made himself scarce after your dance and you didn’t see him again for the rest of the night.

You nod, not trusting your own voice.

The cab ride to your hotel is nearly silent. Every small noise is amplified, like you shifting in your seat, and Bucky loosening his bow tie.

“Have you decided how long you’re going to stay?” You ask, finally, the one question that’s been plaguing you.

He looks at you, eyes impossibly blue in the streetlight glow. “A few days, I think. I have some… I have some stuff I want to see before I go home.” He shakes himself out of whatever memory he’s in. “You? The full ten days?”

You shrug. “If I can keep this room, yeah. I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation.”

Bucky nods, turning to look back out the window again. At the hotel, he helps you out of the car and pays for the cab despite your protests, and when you get inside the elevator, you’re struck again by how handsome he looks, flushed from alcohol and a little more tousled than usual; his bow tie hanging loose around his neck and his top two buttons undone.

He catches you looking once again, but you can’t look away. You know you’re not imagining this time how his eyes darken a shade, and you watch with rapt fascination as he licks his lips, leaning down ever so slightly -- the elevator dings and the doors open.

The spell is broken.

“Bucky?”

He shakes himself out of his thoughts almost physically, and then he’s walking away from you, heading towards the room without a backward glance. 

The next morning, you and Bucky are tangled together so much that there’s no way you can get up without him waking up first. Your first thought is embarrassment, but then you just… give in. You let yourself enjoy it, only feeling guilty for a few minutes.

You’re so warm and you feel so protected… you once again curse Steve Rogers for making you think about your persistent crush on Bucky, because now you can’t get it out of your head.

“Morning.” Bucky’s voice is rough, and you jump, because he’s still got his arms around you. And he’s awake.

“Morning,” you say cautiously.

“Sorry,” he slowly pulls away from you, the tips of his fingers lingering on your arms. “I’ve been told I’m like an octopus in my sleep.”

Something about Bucky seems different first thing in the morning. His walls aren’t up.

“It’s okay. I’m not complaining about free cuddles.”

He smiles, you can feel it where his stubble scratches your temple. There’s something like giddy excitement brewing in you.

“Can I-- I have a favor to ask.” He says. “I have to go somewhere today… I-- if you don’t have plans, would you come with me?”

You crane your neck to meet his eyes. He looks nervous.

“Okay,” you say simply, because you think if he keeps looking at you like that, you’d follow him anywhere.

He tells you to dress casually, so you opt for a simple jeans and t-shirt outfit with a cardigan thrown overtop. You pack whatever you think you’ll need for a day in your backpack and follow Bucky out when he’s ready. He seems to know where he’s going, and you walk with him in comfortable silence.

He starts fidgeting the closer you get to a massive hospital, and when you get close enough to read the sign, you realize this must have been where he was taken for part of his recovery.

“Bucky--” You breathe, because this is too much. He’s trusting you with too much, and you’re not sure you deserve it.

“I--” He swallows hard, “The doctor who saved my arm still works here. I try to write as often as I can, but I thought a face-to-face visit was probably overdue.” He looks down at you, “I just-- I haven’t been here in years. I don’t think I can do it alone.” His words are measured and careful, and you realize how hard it must be for him to be here in the first place, let alone trusting you with something like this.

You feel tears pricking your eyes and you fight to keep them back. “Okay, Bucky. Yeah. Let’s do this.”

He smiles shakily at you, and on a whim, you reach for his hand. When he freezes, you realize you’ve gripped his left hand, the one with the scars encompassing his wrist and three of his fingers, the hand connected to the same arm that was nearly blown off in Afghanistan, the one that nearly cost him his life.

He doesn’t let go. If anything, he squeezes your hand tighter, and you feel another tendril of affection curl around your heart.

Inside, he introduces himself to the woman at the reception desk, and after a few questions, you’re directed towards an elevator and given directions to the floor the doctor’s office is on. You think Bucky has memories of this place for the way he leads you there with almost no words.

A quick knock on the door, and then he’s shaking hands and exchanging broad grins with a young woman.

“Sergeant Barnes!” She exclaims after letting go of his hand. “It’s about time you showed your face around here.”

Bucky is blushing and you’re so enamored with him you can barely stand it. While he’s talking, you dig your phone out of your pocket and text Peggy.

I know you’re on your honeymoon, but SOS! I need help.

Bucky turns to you, and you realize he’s trying to introduce you.

“This is Shuri. She’s the one who operated on me and helped me with PT after my injury.”

“It’s really great to meet you,” you tell her, trying to ignore her curious look.

“You as well.”

She and Bucky start talking again, and even though you can tell Bucky’s still a little nervous to be here, you’re enthralled by the sibling-like relationship he has with his former doctor.

“I want to make a donation,” Bucky says quietly. “I didn’t know who to go to about it. I want to give it specifically to this ward, to the work you’re doing.”

You feel like you’re intruding, but he keeps looking to you like he needs reassurance, so you smile at him.

“I’ve-- I’ve been putting money away over the last few years and I’m at a place now where I want to help.”

You send another text to Peggy.

Seriously, SOS!!!!! If you don’t call me soon, I’m going to do something I regret.

A minute later, your phone rings, and you excuse yourself to the hallway.

“Thank God.”

“Darling. I love you, but what could possibly be so important that you had to call on the first day of--”

“I think I’m in love with Bucky and I have no idea what to do about it.”

A choked noise comes from behind you and you whirl around, mortified to see Bucky there, eyes wide, pale.

“Oh, shit. Peggy-- I have to go.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Bye, love you.” You hang up quickly, and take a step towards Bucky before you even register you’re doing it. “Bucky--”

“Are you-- I heard you were talking to Peg, I thought something was wrong.”

“I’m-- oh God, Bucky, I-- I have to go.”

“Wait--”

Your tears are overflowing now. You’re so embarrassed, you have no idea how you’re going to look him in the eye, let alone sleep in the same bed as him.

Vision blurry, you decide to take the stairs two at a time instead of waiting for the elevator, and you’re gone before he can catch up to you. 

Bucky’s ears are ringing as he stares after you. He feels like he has shell shock again - unable to comprehend anything that just happened.

“Need a chair, soldier?” Shuri asks him, clearly having overheard the entire thing, and he nods dumbly, basically collapsing into a chair near her desk.

I think I’m in love with Bucky.

Your words echo over and over in his mind, and he honestly can’t believe what he just heard.

Your friendship has always been complicated, but the way Bucky feels about you is simple. He’s crazy about you. Crazy for you, and terrified that he’s not good enough for you, so he’s pushed you away time and time again, despite all evidence pointing to the fact that you might like him too.

Sharing a room -- a bed -- with you has been every one of his daydreams come to life. (A lot less kissing, sure, but whatever)

Now this-- this revelation, it’s too much.

“All the most important events of your life seem to take place at this hospital, Bucky.” Shuri says, gentle teasing in her tone.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky groans, “What the hell do I do?”

“You’re going to go after her.” Shuri says simply, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. She rolls her eyes. “It’s obvious you’re in love with her too.” Bucky thinks he must look horrified, because she continues, “You’ve never brought anyone here before. I couldn’t convince you to come back even for a tour of the new labs. And the one time you do come of your own free will, you bring her. What does that tell you?”

A half hour later, Bucky has called you three times and has checked at the hotel twice, and now he’s at a park near the hotel, on a bench, having no idea what to do.

Of course that’s when Steve calls.

“I hear you’re having a crisis.”

Bucky groans. “‘M not having a crisis. A moment, maybe.”

“She told you she loved you?”

“She told Peggy she loved me, and I was eavesdropping, and she ran away crying.”

Steve is silent.

“Right? It’s bad. It’s so bad. Maybe if I’d just been… I don’t know. More talkative during this trip? Or maybe I should have just gotten my own room and saved us both the trouble.”

“Look, no offense, but you’re both so dense.”

Bucky scoffs. “Thanks.”

“I love her like a sister and love you like a brother, but everyone knows you two have a thing for each other. Why else did everyone steer clear of the two of you at the wedding? It’s obvious, dude.”

Bucky has never felt so stupid in his entire life. All these years, he tried to distance himself from you, sure that he was only going to get hurt if he put himself out there. He liked you too much to risk ruining a friendship, even if it was barely a friendship to begin with. Quick to argue and stubborn, you were also generous and kind, beautiful, and passionate about your work and your friends and your family.

You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and you terrify him.

And you love him.

Apparently.

He’s on his feet again.

“I have to go,” He tells Steve. “I’ll text you later.”

“Good luck.” 

You’re back at your shared hotel room, trying to pack up and leave before Bucky finds you. It’s childish, sure, but you can’t take this anymore.

You’re going to get a new room at a different hotel, and try to salvage the rest of your vacation.

The door opens before you can finish zipping your bag, and you turn to see Bucky storming in, his face unreadable and a piece of paper in his hand.

“What the hell is this?”

You turn away. “It’s a note.”

You assume he’s noticed your bags. “Were you really going to take off and just leave a note that says you’re sorry?”

His hand on your elbow forces you to turn around, and you feel like you’re going to cry again.

His face softens. “Talk to me. Please.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. You were-- you were trying to do something for you, and my loud mouth just had to ruin it. I never meant for you to find out--”

“You were never going to tell me you’re in love with me?”

You blanche. “God, I mean-- I don’t know! It’s not… this isn’t easy…”

“You still think I hate you.”

You freeze, thinking back to your drunk conversation from a few nights ago. “I don’t think you hate me.”

“Good. Because I don’t. Far from it, actually.”

You try to squash the little seed of hope blooming in your chest.

“You know, when we first met, I was jealous of you. You were closer to Steve in a year than anyone else, and I didn’t know where I fit anymore. I didn’t understand what made you so special.”

Frowning, you try to turn away, but he won’t let you.

“But then I got to know you. I got to know how you care about people, and how you looked after Steve when he first got back. I learned how you do everything you can to make other people happy, but don’t try to do the same thing for yourself. I learned that you’re a lightweight and you’re a flirt when you’re drunk, and I learned that I--” He stops, catches his breath. “I learned that it only took me a few months to fall in love with you so deeply that I can’t see my way out.”

Your insides feel like mush. The touch of his hand slides up to your shoulder, and you feel more alive the closer he gets to you.

“I pushed you away, because you’re way too good for me, sweetheart. You always have been. You don’t need someone like me weighing you down. And when this room mix-up happened, it was both the best and worst thing to happen to me.”

“Don’t you dare,” you whisper, and his brows furrow, confused, as you continue. “Don’t you dare say you’re not good enough. You’re-- I’ve never met a better person than you, James Barnes. I think I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

You’re both silent, staring into each other’s eyes, the room crackling with the energy of confessions and tension.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re kissing, Bucky’s hand moving to the back of your head as his free arm slides around your waist to haul you against him. Fire licks through your veins as he deepens the kiss, barely letting you break for air before dragging you in again, consuming you entirely.

It could be minutes or hours that you’re kissing him in the middle of your hotel room surrounded by your luggage, but when you break apart, your legs are weak and he chuckles as he keeps you upright, a smug smile growing on his face.

“Shut up.” You say weakly.

“Don’t leave.”

You sigh, forehead leaning against his collarbones.

“I haven’t had a vacation in a long time either, now that I think about it.” He offers, head tilting to one side as he looks you over. “You think you could stand to room with me for another week?”

You can’t stop touching him; hands gliding over his shoulders as he noses at the spot behind your ears where you’re the most sensitive. “I might be able to be talked into it.”

He smiles, and it’s blinding. “I love you,” he whispers, right before he kisses you again.

Later that night when you call Peggy on speakerphone and tell her the entire story, Steve takes the phone and says “told you so,” before hanging up.

Bucky’s arms around your waist, you’re already thinking of writing the concierge who made the room mix-up a thank you card.

End

[slashingdisneypasta]

Inkubus x Vampire!Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Always There

Notes:

I think outta all Englund's characters on this blog, I like writing for Inkubus the most. Which is criminal seeing as I write for him the least. I need to change that haha.

Plot: You meet up with a very old friend of yours and you spend some time catching up. And he's so clearly in love with you, its unbelievable and torturous to him that no matter what he does, you don't notice.

Warnings: A very unreliable narrator (In terms of particular other peoples clear feelings for her), BLOOD, DRINKING BLOOD, DRAINING SOMEONE OF BLOOD (But in a sort of polite way? Hah), MENTIONS OF AN ABUSIVE EX PARTNER, vampires and incubus'.

The smell of iron and petrichor fills your nostrils, disgusting and refreshing and also, just... relieving... in equal measure filling you up as you kneel by the victim - the man you'd chosen, - for tonight; A needle and tube attached to a blood bag between your fingers and digging into the poor mans neck.

You hate doing this, knowing this guy will be weak and sick feeling for the next day - maybe two depending on how much you take from him, - without understanding why. But, its for sure better then the alternative- which is just digging in right here and now with your teeth. That's messy, and the marks you leave behind aren't easy to explain away as 'animal attacks' anymore.

You need the blood, but you aren't a savage, jeez. You always catch any new vampire movies or shows together with your daughter and watch those actors with blood all over their chins, and think... How old are these vamps supposed to be?? 300 hundred years old!?

And they don't know how to eat without getting it all over their face?

Pfft! Rolling your eyes, you gently shake your head at the memories of bloody Edward Cullen and Lestat and Damon Salvetore swimming around in your head as watch the man's breathing. To be fair, you love them all - Twilight, Interview with a Vampire, The Vampire Diaries, Nosferatu, Vampires Vs the Bronx, etc, - but that's just because its more fiction then truth- and that's coming from an honest to goodness bloodsucker.

Finally deciding you've taken enough without truly hurting the man, you put pressure on his neck and pull out the needle, carefully wipe away any mess with a cotton ball from your bag and put a band aid on him.

"Now," You talk firmly, softly, as you look into his eyes - which are dull, almost sleeping. A nice touch to the docile state you put your victims, in so they can at least not feel any pain or fear while you're collecting your feed, - , hands on his shoulders. "You're not going to remember this, or me. You're going to get a taxi home," You tuck some money in his shirt pocket, a thank you for his service; Its the least you could do. "Then get into bed and have a wonderful sleep with lots of lovely dreams. Thank you so much."

After you watch the man get up, still in a bit of daze but shaking it off - and not even noticing your presence, crouched down by where he's standing, - and leave the alleyway, you carefully pack away the blood bag and the tube and needle (In a separate plastic bag, for you to clean and sanitise when you get home) in your satchel and finally get back up, wrapping the strap over your head and resting it on your shoulder.

Brushing a hand through your hair, you turn to leave the alleyway and go home- when a familiar voice speaks up from the very back of the alley- and immediately your hopes rise.

"You look even more beautiful every time I see you."

You smile, peering into the darkness. "Oh, that's very sweet... but you and I both know I look like trash. I haven't eaten for a week!" When he just chuckles back, you tilt your head and waive him over. "Come out here so I can see you!; When did you get into town?"

Gracefully - more so then even you can manage, being a goddamn vampire, - Inkubus slips out of the darkness and you're happy to see he looks well. Its been forever since you say him last - 40 years? 70? - and you always have it in the back of your head for some reason that next time you see your friend, it'll be the last time. So its always lovely when he turns up and looks just as healthy as he always does.

"Oh I just got here; Thought I would come see you immediately. Otherwise you might nag at me." This time you chuckle, rolling your eyes. His eyes flicker to your satchel. "Collecting our dinner our we?"

"Yep! Smells like A Negative, my favourite. When was the last time you ate?"

"Ohh, a couple weeks ago. I'm due for my next fill soon, though... any suggestions?"

"No," Scrunch up your nose, you put a lot of emphasis on your response; See, you don't subscribe to the notion that monsters like the two of you have to act all blasé and cocky about the terrible things they must do. Apart from these night time trips to find breathers to bleed, you live a... mostly... normal life! So no- you definitely don't know anyone he can make his next victim.

And Inkubus knows this, which is why he laughs and you roll your eyes again at him, fixing the satchel on your shoulder. "So- " Again his eyes flicker to your bag, this time with meaning. A cheeky grin flits across his lips. "Want to get a drink?"

Smiling, you turn on your heel, you loop your arm through his and lead the way. "So have you been?"

___TIME SKIP___

4 hours later and the two of you are still stewing at a 24-Hour-Diner you frequent - seeing as you don't really sleep that much, - and are onto your 9th drinks at this point. You two may not see each other too often since the 1400's and went your separate ways in the world, but you never go longer then a hundred years - preferably 80 maximum, - without seeing each other and when you do- you have a lot to say. Filling each other in on what you've missed in each others lives is always a... disorientating experience, at times, but you must do it. You couldn't survive in a world where you didn't know what was happening in your best friends life. That would just be too lonely.

See, Inkubus is the only one you know - still, to this day, - who knew you when you were human, aside from the man referred to very nearly exclusively as 'Dick for brains' - being your daughters father, - and while having human friends who can make you feel normal again, is wonderful... so is feeling normal, in what you actually are currently. And that's not human. That's thousands and thousands of years old and a mystery to scientists. And, seeing as he's a literal demon... that's a very easy service for him to provide.

A waitress walks by to pick up you empty glasses and looks oddly at your personal tumbler. You clearly weren't meant to notice, but you do of course, and unassumingly shrug. "Bloody Mary... don't tell." You give her a conspiratorial wink, and she chuckles, walking off.

When you look back to Inkubus, he looks ready to make a joke so you give him a timid shrug. "Well, there is vodka and Tobasco sauce in it!... " He smirks, but lets it go- seeing as your words were funny enough.

"And how is Bethany? Has she seen her father lately...?" Your eyebrows arch, hearing Inkubus ask about him; Dick for Brains, Beth's father and the bane of your long, long existence. Obviously, seeing as the bastard impregnated you with his literal spawn of hell causing you to die during childbirth at age 26 so he could then turn you into a vampire, made you raise your daughter alone- and then returned 20 years later just to turn Beth into a vampire as well and claim that you can all be a 'proper family now'... you aren't a huge fan of the guy. And talking about him you don't do often, as it causes a horrible clenching feeling in your stomach and heart. Luckily, Inkubus is one of the few people who is allowed to make you feel that way. Him, and Beth.

You sigh, taking a slow sip of your drink through the matching metal straw and metal tumbler set Beth got your last mothers day (So as to hide the fact that its blood inside), you wonder what to say... "Beth's great, as always... she's fallen in love with a human, though. That can only end brilliantly." Shaking your head, you look to Inkubus to see his reaction and catch him rolling his eyes, smirking. Yep. "Um, and... yes. There has been contact with Dick for Brains... He recently, like... 20 years ago? turned up at her place in Egypt, and wouldn't leave till I had to fly down there and shoo him away." You grit your teeth. There is so much wrong with that man- you do honestly with you had never met him sometimes. That's horrible, you know, as if you hadn't met him you wouldn't have had Beth and she's the light of your life, but... at times like that instance? When he troubles her?

Its hard to not wish his existence away.

"Do you want me to speak with him?... Again... ?" Your gaze returns to Inkubus again, feeling at ease the moment your minds back in the diner with him and not in your head with Dick for Brains; Eyes softening. The idea is tempting, unbelievably tempting... And it would keep your friend around awhile longer. "That always seems to win you a couple hundred years of reprieve."

Taking a deep, needless breath - an anxious habit, - you set down your tumbler and shake your head. "No, that's okay... thank you for the offer, though. He seems to be giving up, slowly, finally. But damn, its taken him long enough to get the hint, huh?"

"Far too long." Inkubus' voice is bitter and dark, talking about your ex- and his eyes are reading much different. You know if you let him, he would kill Derek... but you cant do that. If anyone's going to kill him, it would be you or Beth, and neither of you are there yet. Inkubus takes a deep breath, relaxing again like a chameleon changing its colours. "Anyway, love; Onto prettier business. How did that thing go, that you had with that Djinn half a century ago. You seemed quite optimistic about that one."

A fluttering of laughter immediately comes out of you and Inkubus' truly cheers up at the sight of it, and you just look at him and shake your head; An awkward toothless smile on your lips. Ha! No.

His brows arch, laughter in his eyes. "Didn't end well?"

"That ended up being the shortest affair I've ever had and that's saying something." Brushing hair back from your face, you chew on your bottom lip. "You'd think after nearly 10 centuries, I'd learn... Oh- wait- make that 10 and nearly a half, centuries... Boy, am I clueless."

"Clueless about what, love?" You're just breathing in to respond, when a cheeky look crosses Inkubus' familiar face. "I mean, you are quiet clueless- about plenty of things. But specifically, this time."

You scrunch up your nose at him in response, grinning, before once again chewing on your bottom lip. "... I'm just not the woman that gets proposed to." You shrug, as if its no big deal; Even though your heart bleeds saying it out loud for the first time, to someone that matters and not just your ex-therapist, Julie. Setting your drink on the table in front of you, you idlily twist it. "Obsessed over and stalked, yes." You grin, a tinge of sadness to it. "Fucked, yes. Dated even, yes. But married?... Ha, no... "

His eyebrows climb up his forehead even more, before he softly smiles and pats your hand. "I asked you to marry me, all those years ago, sweetheart. Remember?" He reminds you gently, and you cant help giving a soft smile back at your well-meaning friend.

"Oh, yes of course I do. That was very sweet, but... I mean for love, you know? Not because I'm pregnant and alone."

Inkubus sighs, slightly frustrated, and leans back in his seat. "Mhmmm... " Rubbing a finger under his nose, he quickly clears his throat. Then he reaches his hand further up your arm to lay it on your forearm, running his thumb comfortingly across your skin. "Love, I'm sure that you'll find someone. Perhaps multiple someone's. Or, maybe, you don't need to find anyone new."

A little smile twitches at your lips as you pick up his hands and hold it on the table in both of yours. "... Maybe." For a split millisecond, your friend smiles. Sighing wistfully, you shrug. "Maybe I can learn to be happy alone. I mean, I like my life. I like my daughter, I like my job, I like my patterns... Maybe I don't need a man." Immediately his smile disappears and he rolls his eyes.

"You definitely don't need a man." He sighs, frowning. "But one can be good for a few things, no?"

"Hey." You set him with a stern look. "I thought we were making me feel better, about not having one?"

"Oh, you're right. I rescind my comment."

"You better." A cheeky grin crosses your face.

He looks back at it, the cheeky grin of yours, and the smile returns to his face.

~

The sun is warming up when you're on your way home, Inkubus beside you with his arms folded carefully behind his his back and your hands stuffed in your leather jacket pockets; One arm linked affectionately through his. You're an odd sight, you're sure, to any early morning commuters. You, and your barely-out-of-college looking self walking so close - and so domestically. A fact that is lost on you but not on the smug demon walking beside you, - to a man that currently looks to be in his 60's-70's age-wise.

Not that either of you care.

"Well, this is my place! Whatdaya think?" You ask, letting him go in order to unlock the door or the townhouse apartment and push open the door. He walks on in past you, looking around and you watch a soft smile grace his handsome features. "You like it?"

"Much better then the hole in the wall you thought was a good idea to show me in Transylvania- took everything in me not to sweep you away somewhere safer... with fewer mould spores... " He turns to look at you over his shoulder, a mischievous smirk on his mouth as you scrunch up your nose at him, before smiling.

"Well then, Mr Judgmental... I guess you don't want to know, that I chose this wallpaper cuz of you."

That definitely catches his attention, more then anything else you've said. He turns around in a full 360, assessing the wallpaper before looking curiously at you. "You... you chose this wallpaper because of... me? How so?"

You shrug, still leaning back against the open front door- sunlight filtering through the doorway. "The colour is very you. Its got 'Inkubus' vibes. You know," Raising your brows at him, you smirk. "Eccentric, full of itself." At that cheeky remark, he says 'Ha ha', sarcastically. "And, I guess, I missed you. Sooo... yeah... wallpaper."

"Hm... " Looking really far too pleased about this, looking a lot more engrossed by the home then before- but mostly the wallpaper. "This place is looking better, suddenly... "

"Like I said- Full of itself." You roll your eyes, laughing. Then you push off the door, push it closed with your foot and then go to pass by Inkubus to hit the livingroom. "Oh! The book! The one we were talking about at the diner- I'll find it for you! Come on- "

"Y/N." A hand curls gently around your arm, at the perfect moment so that you don't get yanked back with the force of your travelling and instead you just coat to a careful halt at Inkubus' side.

Blinking up at him curiously, wondering what he needed you for so suddenly, you tilt your head to the side. "Yes?"

For a good moment, he just looks at you whilst you become worried. What is happening? Every second that passes by, more and more ridiculous ideas cross your mind.

Finally, the man tilts his head slightly in sincerity.

"Sweetheart, are you ever going to see how ridiculously in love with you I am?"

And... for all of the disastrous and ridiculous possibilities that came to mind when he was saying nothing, you had a response. To this, you just stand their dumbly, your shoulders dropping and just looking at him in total shock. "... wel- uh- um... a few more hundred years?" You feel like a ton of bricks has just been dropped on top of you. "Maybe?" You squeak. You actually squeak.

And of course, you squeaked. You'd be surprised if you had managed to keep your composure after a confession like that. Here's this beautiful man, who against all foreseeable odds understands you, and cares about your kid, and whom you love... and somehow he's telling you that he loves you? That, for some reason, he wants you?

Is there something wrong with him?

There must be. Something terribly, horrible, irreversibly offensive that you aren't already aware of.

But you rack your brain and theirs nothing. Nothing, at all, that you can figure that would make you turn away from him right now.

He smiles a little bit at your awkward reaction, and lets go of your wrist in favour of tucking some hair back behind your ear. "Do you quite mind if I kiss you now?"

Your breath hitches, it actually hitches, like a tiny shy anime girl who's giant crush just got down on his knees in front of her for whatever reason, and you have to fight to pull yourself together; Rolling your shoulders back, hands on your hips. Totally, and translucently fake confident. "Um- you know? I don't?"

God, you are a centuries old vampire; Your vernacular should be yards better then this.

And then kisses you.

Oh god- And then he kisses you.

Because you're suddenly struck hard in the face with a million words and phrases, from current to boomer-speak to old fashioned to forgotten, to describe it but mostly you're just wondering why in the world you hadn't been doing this the whole damn time. Your hands find the sides of his coat in order to steady yourself, and pull him closer as you carefully tilt your head into the kiss. It comes so naturally, the kissing does. Between you and him. Its like, despite the bounds of your relationship never having reached this level before, you know exactly how to kiss each other. There's no awkwardness or searching. You just fit.

When finally, you slowly end the kiss, you fail to open your eyes for a good moment, before cracking them open slightly, half lidded and flickering up to his eyes.

And you take a deep, unnecessary breath and step away, torturously out of Inkubus' personal space. "... holy shit." You have so many questions... None of which touch on how exactly you're feeling because you get that much, at least.

But you cant help but wonder why- and for how long this has been brewing and how long exactly that you missed it- and how the hell this is going to work-

He follows you, thank god, a roguish yet soft look on his face. "Maybe we should take this to the livingroom, love. I promise, I can explain everything to you."

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Twenty Nine

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕

Also if y’all didn’t see, I made an I’m Always Curious Playlist, check it out if you’re interested 😊 Also toying with the next chapter being in Pike’s POV, we’ll see tho

Warnings: Cursing and mentions of canon-typical violence Summary: When I had determined the most appropriate position for the tag and that couldn’t quiet my mind any longer, I headed down to the shuttle bay.

Having had opposing pictures of her character drawn for me by Spock and Tilly, meeting Commander Michael Burnham was a bit of a trip.

The things that Spock had told me about her led me to expect someone austere, distant. But while she was composed, she was cordial, going so far as to make small talk on the way to the Ready Room. It wasn’t in the forced way that it had originally been with Jett, either. Apparently Burnham had heard a fair amount from me from Tilly. Jett joined us in the turbolift, and from there it was a short trek to the Ready Room.

I felt my stomach twist in apprehension as we neared the doors. While I had had some time to process the fact that Pike and I were in close range again, I had spent far too much of the last hour reflecting on the look he’d given me. I was distinctly out of place in the Ready Room. Not only was I the most unfamiliar with the crew, but I was still in my civvies. The Captain was already there, a PADD in hand. His eyes darted to the three of us we entered, but they quickly lowered to the device again as he said, “Commander Burnham, a word, please.” Burnham excused herself from Jett and myself, and I took the moment to look around. I ached with the familiarity - the sight of Chris’ table from Mojave in the room, along with a few other things that had made the trip over from the Enterprise. I drifted toward a window, unable to help my fingers trail over the wood of the table on my way. Jett followed at a pace, glancing at Burnham and Pike before stopping beside me. “Any idea how long Durling’ll take?” She asked. I shook my head a little. “Cornwell just said that he’d be here in a few hours.” At the sound of the Ready Room door opening, I straightened, hands tucking behind my back at attention-- And then I immediately dropped them as I scoffed, “Oh, it’s you.” “Is that any way to greet me?” Eli asked, walking deeper into the room, “You used to stand at attention, be all ‘yessir’ about it.” “I am your superior now, Durling.” “In rank only,” He retorted, coming to stop just in front of me. Despite his words, though, he was pointing that warm smile down at me, like not a day had passed or a thing had changed. And I couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto my face at his familiar gaze and teasing. After the war, Durling had been assigned to the USS Cetus, a temporary post as he awaited an official reassignment. While we spoke from time to time, I hadn't seen him in weeks. “God, I forgot what a dick you were,” Jett grumbled beside us. Eli turned to her, brows raising in surprise. “And it’s good to see you, too, Reno. Especially considering we thought--” “Oh, I know. This one got all misty on me about it,” Jett nodded to me. “Unnecessary detail,” I muttered.  “You can cry? I thought you’d gotten your tear ducts removed back on Starbase 115,” Eli frowned at me. “I would punch you if we weren’t in mixed company.” “Restraint? Wow, that’s new for you.”  We turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us. Pike was there, brows raised a little. Eli smiled, turning fully from myself at Jett. “Eli Durling,” He introduced himself to both Pike and Burnham. “Commander Michael Burnham. Welcome aboard.” “Christopher Pike,” Pike tacked on as he shook Eli’s hand. Eli glanced back at me, brow raised, and I felt the urge to punch him intensify. Instead I just gave him a slight glare before averting my eyes. He knew about me and Pike. I had spent the last year with the man, we’d spent that time having one another’s backs. He knew all of my secrets— but then, I knew all of his. “We should start the briefing, the target’s nearly in range,” Pike added as dropped Eli's hand. “We’ve never run any 22-9-14s on the Discovery,” Burnham explained. “Well, you’re in luck, because the three of us ran a lot of them," Eli nodded back toward me and Jett. “Define a lot, I mean how many times did you ruin your phaser cannons after you transferred?” Jett asked. “Well,” Eli glanced back at me, “I’m not sure I have a count on the phaser cannons, but I personally ran around a hundred, and the Commander ran a number somewhere in the 300s.” “Somewhere? Where in the 300s?” Jett frowned at me. “I’m not sure that’s pertinent to this briefing, as I don’t have the same penchant for bragging that Lieutenant Commander Durling does,” I folded my arms across my chest. Eli smiled.

“Regardless, you’re in good hands,” He added, turning back to Pike and Burnham, “I’ll coordinate from the Bridge while the Commander takes care of the tagging process. Any questions?” “I’ve got one,” I piped up. “Of course you do--” “What am I tagging?” I asked over him. Eli nodded to Pike’s desk, and Pike stepped out of the way, waving his hand with silent permission. I watched as Eli walked over to it, opening a file and pulling up a holographic display of a ship. I pushed off of the wall and walked over to join him with the others, my eyes wandering the surface of the ship. “Is that a DY-100 Sleeper?” I frowned, bracing my hands on the desk to get a better look. “It is,” He confirmed, “The S.S. Botany Bay.” “You’re familiar with this craft?” Burnham asked. I glanced at her. “Few months into the war, Command was looking for craft that might be able to slip past Klingon sensors. These vessels are antiques— 20th century, decommissioned. Older metals, outdated tech, but high crew capacity.” “And the Botany Bay was used during the war?” Pike asked. I turned back to the hologram. “Only two ships were in good enough condition to shore up and get off of the ground. This was neither of them.” “Maybe it’s just being tracked for longevity, see how long it holds up,” Jett suggested. “No,” I shook my head a little, “No, Cornwell said colony when I came aboard…” I straightened up, folding my arms back across my chest, “We’re either gonna get radio silence or hear some really cryptic shit.” “That’s the spirit,” Durling clapped my shoulder, and I shot him a sidelong glance. “You realize this is gonna be a manual?” I asked him. “Ah-- No,” He laughed nervously, “No, you don’t have time for manual.” “Time or not— Look at the surface area on that thing,” I nodded to the hologram, “If this is an original sleeper class and launched back in the 1990s when they were originally being built, it’s possible that the integrity of the hull is going to be compromised. That means that the arms on the bot are going to be too rough for this task.” “What would you have to do to attach it manually?” Burnham asked.  “She’s gotta eject herself from her ship,” Jett told them. “How much does that differ from a ship-based tag?” Burnham asked. “... It’s different,” Eli tread carefully as he said so. I could feel him eyeing me critically, and I couldn’t help the way my jaw clenched as my stomach swooped with nerves. I hated manual tags the most. There were fewer safety nets: no tether, no easy way back to the ship if something went very seriously wrong--just me and a jet pack and a whole lotta hope. “Considering the fact that Command even authorized this mission in the first place, a manual attachment should be our last resort,” he added, “And who am I to argue with Command?” “Usually the second in line,” Jett answered. “Who’s first?” He frowned. There was a pause as I felt the two of them direct their gazes to me. “I resent that,” I muttered. “Which puts you in direct opposition with Commander Reno, which, given the longevity of her rank, technically puts you at odds with your superior--” Durling muttered. “O-kay.” “What are the steps that we need to get this off of the ground?” Pike asked, cutting over our bickering. I suddenly felt like a schoolkid called out for chatting in class. “Reno needs to look over craft, make sure it’s safe to fly,” Eli told him, “Your ship’s doctor needs to give our pilot a once-over as well, same reason.” I rolled my eyes a little. I was a little tired, more than a little jittery at the prospect of being behind the controls of an attack fighter again, but I had flown and been cleared for flight in worse condition. “Anything else?” Pike asked. “No,” Eli shook his head, “Barring any complications, we should be set to launch… round 1800 hours.” “If that’s the timeline, I’m gonna go get some sleep,” I straightened, “Thanks guys.” I turned away, heading for the door as I heard Durling pipe up: “Oh, and Commander?” “Yes,” I turned back, “Lieutenant Commander?” Durling took a moment, eyes sweeping down my body, then up again. “Where are we with that uniform?” I forced out a little laugh before nodding once, “I’m gonna leave now.”

-- I knew that I needed to get rest, but the prospect of a manual tag kept had set my mind racing. Instead I studied the schematics that I had available for a DY-100. And when I had determined the most appropriate position for the tag and that couldn’t quiet my mind any longer, I headed down to the shuttle bay. -- “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Jett almost scowled at the sight of me stepping onto craft. “Not tired,” I fibbed. Jett gave me a short look before lowering herself beside the control panel. “Make yourself useful, then, pass me the magna-spanner.” I crouched down beside Jett’s toolkit and found the requested implement before passing it to her. Once I had, I sat on the floor of the craft, leaning back against the wall and looking around the small cabin. It seemed so much more confining than I remembered— crammed with measuring instruments, controls, an emergency med pack. I directed my gaze toward the hatch in the ceiling, the one I’d be pushing myself out into open space from in just a short while. “So,” Jett spoke up, “What’s the plan after this?” I smiled at the question— just like old times. “Maybe get some more pie?” I offered. “And sugar crash later?” “Mhm. It’s the risk you take when you eat the hard stuff.” “And after that?” “...Dunno. Maybe something that actually utilizes what I went to the Academy to do. You know, speak and translate something other than Klingon, work with texts and languages we’re less familiar with…” “But we put our dreams away?” “But we put our dreams away.” Jett leaned back, tossing the magna-spanner at me. I caught hold of it, depositing it in the toolbox. She humphed, “Well, you’re morose as shit, but your reflexes seem to be in good order. Should be helpful, huh, Captain?” I frowned before I heard, “Yes, it should.” My head was turned from him, and I had been focused on other parts of the ship, but I hadn’t even heard him come aboard. I glanced up at Pike to find him standing with his hands tucked behind his back. He cleared his throat. “Doctor Pollard needs to examine you,” He nodded over his shoulder. “Right,” I pushed myself to stand before glancing down at Jett, “You’re set here?” “Please leave,” Was her smiling answer. I smiled a little myself, shaking my head before following Pike off of the craft. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he had to duck to ensure he didn’t hit his head on the way out. A brief wave of embarrassment crested over me when he glanced back at the sound. Pollard and Eli were in the shuttle bay, not too far off from the craft. The introductions were short as I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it to Eli. He caught it without a question or hesitation, hardly missing a word as he regaled Dr. Pollard with the story of his part in the Battle of Xisad. She seemed to only be listening out of politeness, humming in response now and again. Knowing Eli, though, this chatter was meant to distract all of us from what I was about to do. Dr. Pollard’s hand skimmed over my left shoulder blade and I jolted a little, tensing as I sucked in a sharp breath.  “Alright?” She asked. I nodded as I heard her switch to the scanner on her tricorder. “Quite a lot of scar tissue,” She added. “Caught the wrong end of a bat’leth,” I explained flatly. “Is there pain?” “No.” “Does it hinder any of your movements?” “No.” When Pollard returned her hand to that same area, fingers carefully massaging the area to ensure the truth of my statement, I held carefully still. “...Is there a right end of bat’leth?” Eli asked, breaking the tense silence from our superiors. “The side without the pointed blade would’ve been preferable,” I told him, glancing in his direction. “You’re so particular,” He scoffed, but he was smiling. I shook my head a little, feeling the tension drain from me a little. “Well, apart from a slightly elevated heart rate, everything seems to be in order," Pollard reported from behind me. “That’s not a concern?” Pike asked. “According to the Commander’s prior medical records, there is typically some uptick in heart rate prior to these particular missions. She’s fit to fly," Pollard tucked her tricorder into its holder. I gave her a small nod of thanks. “And yet not outfitted to fly. Starfleet regulation 67: an officer acting in the interests of the Federation must be in uniform to command or commandeer any vessel,” Durling rattled off. I hummed, nodding, “An excellent point, Lieutenant Commander, but you seem to be forgetting Starfleet regulation 67-A: In the event of an emergency procedure, Starfleet personnel are permitted to eschew Federation vestments as the mission demands. Or have you forgotten who that rule had to be instituted for?” Durling shuffled closer, holding my jacket back out to me as he muttered, “Can’t recall.” “Well— that’s hilarious, because I can. And I’ll be in a Starfleet flight suit, I do believe that that counts as uniform.” “It does,” Pike piped up. “Exactly— thank you, Captain.” “Anytime, Commander.” “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get changed and run through the pre-flight checklist with Jett,” I added. I thanked Pollard again before I turned, heading back to the attack fighter. Anytime, Commander. Two words. Easy. Two words that set my heart racing faster than the prospect of a manual tag-and-run did. Tag list: @angels-pie​​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​​  ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​​ ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know​​ ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles​​ ; @inmyowncorner​​  ; @tardis-23​​ ; @2manyfandoms-solittletime​ ; @paintballkid711​​ ; @katrynec​​​ ; @hypnobananaangelfish​​ ; @elen-aranel​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​

[nerdy-as-heck]

Bitterly By Your Side

A/N: Me? Posting a fic for the first time in 8 months? I'm just as surprised as you are. Ao3 Link

Summary: Logan is a world-renowned author, but not for his scientific journals. For a romance novel he never intended to publish, and an upcoming movie that would finally get the two it was inspired by together.

Ships: Pre-Prinxiety, background Logicality

Warnings: None

There were a lot of things in this world that didn’t make much sense to Logan. What made someone hate a specific group of people for an unchangeable part of their identity? Why would some people continue to believe a falsehood even after being shown irrefutable evidence? Why the fuck is college so expensive? But this. This went beyond every question that Logan could ask himself. Any amount of logic he tried to apply would shatter into a thousand pieces.

For years, Logan had been a distinguished author. Dozens of academic papers, journals, books, and articles were published under his name, making more breakthroughs in science than one could have ever imagined possible. Some were small advancements, granted, but none were insignificant. But that’s not why the general public knows Logan’s name.

Ten years getting a PhD in Astrophysics and one Nobel prize later, Logan Berry’s name is on the Best-Selling Romance Novel section in every bookstore across the country. And Logan will continue to blame his husband for it every time someone asks.

Not that it was really /entirely/ Patton’s fault. Both of them had been sick of Roman and Virgil’s pining that had been going on since freshman year of college. At least Logan’s infatuation had only lasted a month or so before bluntly asking Patton if he finds him physically attractive; that story always gets a laugh every time they tell it. The four of them had been suitemates during their first year, with Logan and Roman sharing their room while Patton and Virgil had the adjoining one. That was nearly twelve years ago, and yet the two of them still seemed to be clueless as to the other’s emotions, even with all four of them once again living in the same apartment.

All Patton had said was he wished there was a way to see them get together, like a movie or something. Now, Logan couldn't direct or act, but he could write. So, naturally, he did the only thing a sane person would do; he stayed up for three days straight writing a 300 page chaotic mess of the two falling in love. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic, and it definitely ended up being far longer than he had intended. But Logan’s train of thought never seemed to stay quite on track when it came to making his soulmate happy.

Of course, Logan had no interest in simply reading it over and over again himself; he printed out the pages and presented it to Patton as an early birthday present. Logan was under the impression that Patton knew it was a simple gift for his eyes only, nothing more. But Patton hadn’t quite gotten that impression.

Logan hadn’t necessarily made it a ‘fanfiction’. Yes, it was about two hopelessly oblivious in love college roommates that got together in the end. The thing that kept it unique was neither character revealing their actual name until the very ending, instead choosing to use a nom de plume. In this particular case, Roman had called himself “Merlin” and Virgil went by “Storm”. Neither the reader nor the characters within the story would learn their true names until the last chapter.

Apparently Patton did not read to the last chapter. Instead, about halfway through, he had believed it was a good idea to take it straight to a publisher; he couldn’t believe Logan had trusted him with the draft of his first novel!

It wasn’t until Logan got a copy of the book in the mail, fully printed and with his name on the cover, did he realize why Patton hadn’t commented on it after finishing. “Bitterly By Your Side” was already in every store in town and quickly spreading. Logan quickly pulled Patton into their shared room to discuss this with him and show the last page; needless to say, Patton was humiliated that he had done such a thing. It took hours to calm him down. Logan simply believed the book would not be popular and it would be taken down from the shelves in a matter of a few weeks.

He could not have been more wrong.

People slowly began to recognize Logan on the streets, asking for photos or to sign their copy of the book. Stores would reach out to him and schedule book signings, which Logan reluctantly went to as a chance to promote some of his other works. No one was buying any of that.

This was about two years ago. Logan had always scolded Roman and Virgil for not reading as often as they should, but it was unexplainable how grateful he was that they never listened. Not once in those years did the two step foot in a bookstore, see Logan scatter away for a photo when he was found in public, or questions the ‘meeting’ Logan seemed to be going to every other week.

By this point, Logan had gotten used to how things were. It was bringing in money to support the entire group, and no one was hurting for it. Though it still confused him why this was the case, he had accepted it as an unexplainable cosmic phenomenon. Logan didn’t even think twice when allowing a company that approached him to make a movie adaptation, with the promise that Logan could supervise on site, of course.

Months later, and somehow the two’s obliviousness had only gotten worse. It was a true miracle that they never noticed Logan being gone all the time or that Roman didn't pick up on the potential movie acting gig. Though the last wasn’t much of a coincidence; Logan always checked their mail and tossed out any advertisements for it.

Logan had only looked over one important detail; the company picking up the story was Disney. And regardless if they had heard about it before, Virgil and Roman both had a dedication to watching it together day it shows up on Netflix. Patton would always tease Virgil about it being their little “date night”, which would be received by a shove and Virgil’s hood coming up to hide his face.

On the night that this happened, Logan was out late at a midnight book signing, and Patton had agreed to go with to drive him home in case Logan was too exhausted. So for the first time in quite a while, Roman and Virgil had the whole apartment to themselves for movie night. As tradition, Virgil grabbed popcorn, snacks, and drinks, running back to the couch just before Roman clicked play.

“Are you ready for what is sure to be the GREATEST FILM of ALL TIME?”

“You say that every time, Princey. Bitterly By Your Side may be Disney, but its a dumb romance too. It can’t be that good.”

Of course Roman scoffed at that, but before he could continue the argument, Virgil just threw a handful of popcorn at his face and hit play. Storm happened to be the first character that came on screen, and the second Roman saw the actor’s face he gasped and leaned forward.

“That man… Is the love of my life.” Virgil couldn’t help but to laugh at the dramatics of such an early declaration, and for a short time Roman stared at Virgil rather than at the movie.

“You think that guy is good looking? Don’t be ridiculous, he looks like a ten year old that got into his mom’s makeup.” Roman could only glare at Virgil for a few minutes before Merlin came on screen. And then it was Roman’s turn to laugh as Virgil’s jaw literally dropped.

“You can’t be serious! Storm is far more attractive than /that/ over dramatic piece of work!” Virgil didn’t even have the words to argue at the moment, simply shoving a hand over Roman’s mouth as Merlin already had a shirtless scene. It wasn’t more than five seconds later, though, that Virgil realized what he had done and practically shrieked, crawling to the other side of the couch. “S-Sorry… But if that doesn’t prove Merlin is the best, then nothing will.” A simple joke had now turned into a full out war between the two, pointing out each small quality in the other character that made them far superior.

“Look at Storm’s purple eyes! And that long hair, I just want to run my hand through it and kiss that man.”

“They’re probably contacts anyway! Merlin has the swoop in his hair that at least doesn’t block his /actual/ green emerald eyes!”

“But that’s the thing, Storm is so shy yet abrasive at the same time! His hiding just makes his natural beauty all the better!”

“Sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you over Merlin’s fifth shirtless scene.”

Of course, it was all joking banter. Despite the insults thrown from time to time, this was a typical thing for the two of them, and tonight wasn’t any different. It only finally died down at a point where the movie was getting ready to end. For some reason, Roman was a moron. Well. Virgil knew that already. A cute moron, but still a moron, one that had decided to run to the bathroom right after the climax of the movie and refused to let Virgil pause it. In the short time, Roman was gone, that was all the movie needed to make Virgil’s fight or flight response kick in.

“Now that we’re dating, shouldn’t I at least get to know your name, angel?”

“...Its Virgil.”

“Roman. A pleasure to finally meet the real you.”

That was. A weird coincidence. But with anxiety, nothing ever felt like things could be so coincidental. So once Roman came back, Virgil was on his phone, googling the book, and every word he read just made his face burn even more.

  Bitterly By Your Side is a romance novel by Logan Berry, published in 2017. In recent interviews, he has confessed to it being inspired by real life events and people he knows, though for now he wishes the details to remain private.

...Oh Logan is so dead when he gets back.

“H e y!” Virgil was next to be assaulted with popcorn as he pulled his hood up to avoid Roman seeing his face right now. “Get off your phone and watch the eye candy! Storm is back on screen!”

...Storm. The character inspired by Virgil. That Roman had been calling hot all night long. And Virgil had done the same to Merlin. Virgil didn’t focus much on the rest of the movie, far too busy trying to hide his ever reddening face and cursing the entire world. Once the movie finally ended, Roman stood up to give the TV a round of applause. But before the credits, there was one more thing…

  And now, an interview with the author of the original book: Logan Berry!

Roman was understandably shocked and sat back down, confused as to when Logan had written a book without telling them. With every word spoken on the show, Virgil’s heart sunk deeper and he made another promise to kill Logan tomorrow.

  Yes, it is true that this novel was inspired on true events. I have two friends that have been obliviously in love with each other for nearly twelve years now, despite mine and my husband’s encouragement for them to confess. Storm and Mer- Well, I suppose I can use their real names now, it's no spoiler since this is shown after the movie. I don't blame either Virgil or Roman for their hopeless pining, it's just something my husband tired of and wished to see come to life in case it never did in person.

After that sentence, Roman was quick to turn off the TV. At least now it made sense why Virgil had curled up into a ball on the couch during the interview. Silence. Silence that lasted far too long for either of them to stand, yet neither had the will to break it.

Surprisingly, Virgil was the one to swallow his pride first. “...so. Eye candy, huh?”

Not even a second later, Virgil felt a pillow hit his head. “Oh shut up! You’re one to talk! Drooling in every shirtless scene in the whole movie!”

There wasn’t a coherent comeback in Virgil’s mind, so instead he just flipped Roman off from his hoodie protection. Roman, being the prick he was, couldn’t let it go so easily though, grabbing Virgil’s hand and ignoring his own pounding heart as he pulled the two closer together. Safe to say, Virgil felt like he was going to explode. “You know the real thing is always better than fiction.”

And then for some unknown reason, one that he would claim to this day as temporary insanity, Virgil’s mind had decided it was time for him to be the moron today. The only thing he could think to do was kiss Roman, so he did. Both were surprised and afraid, but neither pulled away. Not in the first few minutes, not even in the first hour. It was a scene that easily could have rivaled the masterpiece of a movie in itself. By the end of it, they were both out of breath and exhausted, choosing to simply sleep together on the couch.

“...goodnight, Storm…” “Night, Merlin.”

Still. They were going to kill Logan in the morning. But for now, it was just them, and that was enough.

[phroyd]

Negotiations on a new coronavirus relief bill hit an impasse on Capitol Hill on Wednesday, leaving no clear path forward even as millions of Americans face a sudden drop in unemployment benefits, and the economy teeters on the brink.

A meeting between top White House officials and Democratic leaders ended with no agreement on extending emergency unemployment benefits that expire Friday or on reviving a moratorium on evictions that lapsed last week. That means some 20 million jobless Americans will lose $600 weekly enhanced unemployment benefits that Congress approved in March, which could send the economy reeling.

After a day of meetings, all parties declared their differences all but irreconcilable. Democrats shot down the idea of a short-term fix for unemployment insurance and the eviction moratorium, which President Trump had announced earlier Wednesday he would support. And the two parties remained far apart on a larger bill, with Democrats standing by their wide-ranging $3 trillion proposal even as Republicans struggled to coalesce around a $1 trillion bill released by Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) on Monday.

Each side said the other was to blame for the failure. Paying the price will be the unemployed at a moment of deep uncertainty and fear, with coronavirus cases spiking and states pulling back on reopening as deaths near 150,000 in the United States. The talks could get back on track in coming days, but the signs Wednesday were not promising.

“I don’t know that there is another plan, other than no deal," said White House Chief of Staff Mark Meadows. "Which will allow unemployment, enhanced unemployment, I might add, to expire. … No deal certainly becomes a greater possibility the longer these negotiations go.”

Meadows offered his dour assessment as he headed into his third straight day of meetings with House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) and Senate Minority Leader Charles E. Schumer (D-N.Y.) at the Capitol. He was no more upbeat when he came out.

“We are nowhere close to a deal,” Meadows said.

Democrats echoed his pessimistic assessment, while putting the blame on Republicans.

“Our Republican friends don’t seem to come close to meeting the moment. … They’ve put us up against the wall. We have two cliffs because they wouldn’t negotiate for months,” Schumer said.

“They’re tied in a total knot because of the disunity in their caucus, because of their inability to gather votes, because the president says one thing one day, he says another thing the other day,” Schumer added. "We want to come back and keep talking to them. But they don’t have anything to say.”

McConnell held out hope in an evening interview with PBS NewsHour, saying: “This is only Wednesday. So hope springs eternal that we’ll reach some kind of agreement, either on a broad basis or a more narrow basis to avoid having an adverse impact on unemployment.”

Earlier Wednesday Trump had called for a quick fix to address the unemployment benefits and eviction moratorium, saying other issues could wait.

“The rest of it, we’re so far apart, we don’t care, we really don’t care,” Trump told reporters outside the White House, referring to divisions between the two parties.

But Democrats called that approach wholly inadequate.

“We don’t know why the Republicans come around here with a skinny bill that does nothing to address really what’s happening with the virus, and has a little of this and a little of that. We’re not accepting that," Pelosi said. "We have to have the comprehensive full bill.”

McConnell has not embraced the piecemeal approach either, insisting any bill must include a five-year liability shield for businesses, healthcare providers and others — a non-starter for Democrats.

More than 20 million Americans remain unemployed and have been receiving a $600 weekly emergency unemployment payment that Congress approved in March, on top of whatever benefit their state offers. That extra federal benefit runs out Friday.

Democrats want to extend the extra jobless payment at its current level. The Senate GOP bill released Monday proposes cutting it to $200 weekly until states can phase in a new system that would aim to replace 70 percent of a worker’s wages before unemployment.

Underscoring the continued need, the head of the Federal Reserve said Wednesday that rising coronavirus cases since mid-June are beginning to weigh on the economy, based on consumer credit card spending and hotel occupancy data as well as some labor market indicators.

“On balance, it looks like the data are pointing to a slowing in the pace of the recovery," Federal Reserve Chair Jerome H. Powell said during a news conference Wednesday. "I want to stress it’s too early to say both how large that is and how sustained it will be.”

Powell said funding from the $2 trillion Cares Act passed in March was key to keeping people in their homes and jobs. He pointed to the success of the small-business Paycheck Protection Program for getting money directly to businesses that couldn’t necessarily have been saved through a Fed lending program.

“Lending is a particular tool, and we’re using it very aggressively, but fiscal policy is essential here," Powell said. “As I’ve said, more will be needed from all of us, and I see Congress is negotiating now over a new package, and I think that’s a good thing."

But the negotiations are not going well. Democrats want to spend three times more than Republicans on the overall bill, expected to be Congress’s last major coronavirus relief bill before the November election. They also are insisting on a new round of state and local aid, which was excluded from the GOP bill.

Some Republicans don’t want to spend any more money at all, and there are deep divisions over the $1 trillion bill McConnell released Monday, which proposes to send a new round of $1,200 stimulus checks to individual Americans and inject more money into the Paycheck Protection Program, among other provisions. McConnell said in his PBS interview that there are about 20 GOP senators who would prefer to take no additional action because of deficit concerns.

A number of Republican senators signaled Wednesday they were open to some kind of short-term, stand-alone deal — but also said there was no clarity on what that might actually entail, or on much of anything at all.

“There’s no consensus on anything,” Sen. John Cornyn (R-Tex.) told reporters twice after a closed-door lunch with Meadows and Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin. He described this as “A normal part of the catharsis that goes with actually getting to the solution," while noting: "We’re far away right now.”

McConnell is leaving negotiations with Democrats to Trump administration officials. The whole process has been overtaken by increasingly bitter partisanship, which was on display on the Senate floor Wednesday as McConnell and Schumer traded insults.

McConnell accused Democrats of adopting a “completely unhinged position” in insisting on continuing the $600 weekly emergency unemployment benefits. Republicans say such generous payments act as a disincentive for people to return to the workforce, given that in many cases they can make more on unemployment.

Referring to Pelosi, McConnell said, “She’ll just refuse to legislate until the election and wish American families good luck dealing with the pandemic.”

Schumer denounced those comments in his own floor speech a short time later.

“This absurd, nasty insinuation by the Republican leader doesn’t pass the laugh test,” Schumer said.

As time runs out on the expanded jobless benefit, Sen. Mitt Romney (R-Utah) has started crafting an alternative unemployment insurance proposal, according to an official familiar with the draft.

The plan would allow states to choose one of two options, the official said: either a jobless benefit supplement that amounts to 80 percent of the initial wage, or a sliding scale that would amount to an additional $500 per week in August, $400 per week in September and $300 per week in October. The official spoke on the condition of anonymity to describe a plan that was still being drafted.

Trump’s push for an extension of the eviction moratorium came even though the GOP legislation released by McConnell did not include it. The eviction moratorium provision, which was passed as part of the Cares Act in March, shielded 12 million renters nationwide from eviction — but it expired Friday. House Democrats have pushed for it to be extended.

A federal eviction moratorium is ending. Here’s what renters should know.

Larry Kudlow, the president’s top economic adviser, suggested Sunday the administration would back extending the moratorium. He then clarified Monday on Fox News that the administration was pushing an extension in forbearance for homeowners — allowing them to delay payments on their mortgages — but that the administration was still studying the eviction moratorium. That measure prevented renters from being evicted from properties with mortgages backed by the federal government.

Trump also said Wednesday he would continue to demand nearly $1.8 billion for a new FBI building at its present site, near his hotel in downtown Washington.

McConnell and multiple other Republicans have said they oppose inclusion of the FBI headquarters provision.

“Then Republicans should go back to school and learn. They need a new building … and we can do it very easily,” Trump said.

Congress passed four bipartisan bills in March and April, injecting about $3 trillion into the economy as the coronavirus began its deadly and economically devastating march across the country. At the time lawmakers hoped the pandemic would die down; instead it’s been spiking in many places.

Phroyd

[egopocalypse]

Day 4: Human Shield

This is a couple days late, but here’s the next part of the series! (If you have an idea for a title, I’d love to hear it!)

Links to the rest: here, here, and here

Two months.

It’s been two months since he last saw his brother. Two months since the explosion that nearly killed him. Two months since he (possibly?) spoke to him in the hospital.

Two months, and now he’s taken his niece and nephew.

“Marvin!” He yells, rising up to the magician’s level. “Let them go!”

Marvin raises an eyebrow. “Let them go?” He parrots, glancing at the air below them. “That’s a long fall, Jackieboy. I don’t think their father could handle it if you didn’t catch them.”

“You know what I mean!” He growls, clenching his fists. “Let them go safely and I’ll give you a headstart before I catch you!”

“And how well did that go last time?” A smirk flits across his lips. “That explosion took you out of commission for a while. Maybe this time we’ll learn how long it takes to recover from a splattered kid.”

That did it.

“Uncle Jackie!” Sara started squirming, trying to get out of Marvin’s grip. She didn’t know who he was or why he looked so much like her daddy, but the seven year old knew her uncle would catch her if she fell. “Help!”

Marvin tightens his grip around her waist, snarling in her ear. “Stop moving, darling, or I’ll drop your little brother from 300 feet in the air.”

“No!” She screams, kicking her feet out. Her heel hits his inner thigh and he curses, almost dropping her as pain radiates through his leg.

“That’s how you want to play, huh?” He scowls. “Fine. Then no more playtime for you.”

A shout rips from Jackie’s throat as Sara slumps over, falling limp in Marvin’s arms. “What did you do to her?!”

“Relax, hero.” His eyes flash silver. “She’s only asleep. When she wakes up, she’ll assume this is all a bad dream. Provided you do what I say, of course.”

“What do you want?” He doesn’t have time for this. The more Marvin stalls, the more of a chance the kids will fall, and he’s not going to let Chase down by failing to save his kids.

“Just some casual family time with the kids. You know, spend some time with the niece and nephew I never met.” Marvin shrugs, jostling the kids in his arms. “Stacy’s awfully stingy with them, isn’t she? Too bad they trust anyone who looks like their dear old dad more than her.” He laughs, the sharp tone making Jackie wince. “I wonder if they would’ve followed if he collected them.”

Jackie goes stark white under the mask. “They have nothing to do with this, Marvin. Please, just let them go.” His eyes meet Marvin’s and he nearly falls, dropping a few feet before he catches himself.

The mask is different.

It’s no longer the glossy ebony mask Jackie’s scoured every inch of in the hospital. This one is cast in bronze, the metal curving under his cheekbones and over the length of his nose. Gears and pipes circle around his eyes and copper trails etch a pattern on his forehead. It looks too mechanical, too robotic for Marvin’s style, that he can’t help but fixate on it, not listening to the magician’s speech.

Until his hand is wrapped around his nephew’s throat.

“Seán, huh?” Marvin growls, silver eyes blazing. “Of fucking course he’d name you after his darling, doting creator.” His fingers clamp tighter around the five year old’s throat, eliciting a gasp from the boy. “Well then, let’s show him exactly what I want to do to Seán fucking McLo-“

A gun fires.

Marvin screams.

The kids fall.

@averyancora @abouttobesilenced @sarinoxious @cest-mellow @help-trashbin @bunchofdoodlesinspace @abyssshifter @eridangan @jaysflight @skyewardlight @wildhorsewolf @chey-doodles @stuck-in-a-l-o-o-p @unadventurousjulie @kairomancerr @kitnkas @gray-avidan @glixbitch @novelistgeek @worm-does-shit @mad-men-inc @honestlyitsjustkenna @megasepticfan @immabethehero @miishae @darkiplurrr @humblecacti @beerecordings @taikeero-lecoredier @fear-is-nameless @dumbthinmint @lildevyl @viostormcaller @anotheregofanficblog @caori-azarath @takethepainawaybae

[1dfangirls35]

Voir Dire (NH):

A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates, and risking it all for love.

one

two

Kelsey hated being late. And today she was late, later then she had ever been to her shift at Manhattan, the up-scale and overpriced bar in Los Angeles that she had been employed at for nearly three months now.

She knew she would be cutting it close, but you couldn't exactly tell your current boss that you might be late because you are interviewing for a slightly better paying job now could you?

It wasn't the type of job Kelsey had ever imagined applying for, but considering the extremely high cost of living in Los Angeles, and her extremely low wages as a bartender at the Manhattan (even including the very generous tips), she hadn't had much of a choice. These days her own earnings were all that were getting her by, and by getting by she meant living on a diet of mainly ramen noodles and cereal. 

"How was the interview?" Maya, Kelsey's favorite co-worker, asked as Kelsey slid behind the grey granite-topped bar to begin slicing limes. Maya was the only one that knew about the interview and Kelsey wanted to keep it that way, especially with the way her luck was turning out these days.

Kelsey had always considered herself lucky. She had been blessed with supportive parents, fantastic friends, and a will to do whatever she set her mind to. She had it all together...until she didn't.

Like some stroke of bad luck, Kelsey had went from a girl with a picture perfect family to a girl whose family was being ripped apart by an affair. She went from the girl who had the most tight-knit group of friends the world had seen, to a disastrous falling out with her best friend over the boy Kelsey had always pictured herself walking down the aisle to. And to put the icing on the cake, Kelsey had went from the girl with every academic accomplishment in the book, to a girl that wasn't accepted into law school because of her extremely poor LSAT score.

So Kelsey found herself three months post-college graduation, working as a bartender, living alone in the big city of Los Angeles, just trying to find ways to make ends meet so that maybe in a year she would be accepted into her dream law school- Stanford University. The bartending job was only supposed to be temporary, but considering the lack of lucky breaks in Kelsey's recent life, she was beginning to think the gig might be slightly more permanent.

Kelsey shrugged as she turned to Maya. "It went fine, but you know if it doesn't work out it doesn't work out." Kelsey moved on to unloading the dishwasher, the heat of the glass leaving a slight sting on her fingertips.

"You're going to get into law school Kelsey. I know you will," Maya set a hand of encouragement on Kelsey's shoulder, before joining in the joyous task of unloading glasses. "I mean think of all the connections you've made so far, the Manhattan clientele are not your average Joe's."

Maya was in fact right about that. The Manhattan was exclusive in every form of the word. Instead of a bar filled with drunk college students, raging alcoholics or lonely old men, it was filled with CEOs, celebrities and those of the upper class looking for a drink to take the edge off.

And Kelsey had made connections. She'd served a bottle of $300 wine to one of the top estate lawyers in the city, called a cab for the defense attorney of choice for celebrity "mishaps", she'd even run into a few politicians- Stanford law grads themselves.

They'd tipped nicely, they'd asked her what had brought her to the city, they'd even offered their words of wisdom a few times. But were they going to take the girl in the bar pouring their precious drinks seriously? Did they really believe this girl had what it took to get into law school? Absolutely not- they'd go back home, to their wives or their coworkers and they'd laugh about the bartender who thought mixing drinks was going to be her gateway into winning cases.

"I'm just trying to be realistic," Kelsey sighed, reaching to pull her chocolate brown hair into a knot at the nape of her neck. 

"When did realism get anyone anywhere," Maya said with a roll of her brown eyes. Maya was a dreamer. Like many people that came to Los Angeles, Maya had made the journey in hopes of getting her big break in music. She was good; a gifted singer, but in a place like Los Angeles being good wasn't good enough, you had to have connections. Despite the numerous demos Maya had snuck into the hands of Manhattan patrons against the explicit rules of management, she had yet to recieve her big break. 

"Speaking of 'realism'," Maya laughed. "The AMA's are coming up this weekend. Think we will get anyone good at the bar?"

Kelsey laughed. "You wish."

"I'm telling you girl, one day Beyonce herself is going to walk through these doors and get her hands on one of my highly prized demos. Mark my words." Kelsey rolled her eyes at her friend's daydream. Maya wouldn't want to be hanging out with someone as unlucky as Kelsey if she wanted that to happen.

"Opening in five ladies," Tom, the head bouncer announced from his perch in front of the glass double doors. Kelsey and Maya nodded in understanding.

"Maybe Beyonce's waiting outside those doors?" Kelsey joked.

"Now who's the dreamer," Maya laughed and the two began a busy night of mixing drinks. 

***********************

Niall Horan was not an unfriendly guy. In fact, Niall prided himself on being one of the most down-to-earth celebrities- someone that would strike up a conversation with anyone. The last thing he wanted to be seen as was a diva.

But yet as he sat at the table across from a beautiful girl, with blonde-hair curled in perfectly symmetric waves, he couldn't even bring himself to form as much as a smile. He couldn't find the words to form a single polite question. All he could do was stare, and think about how he had even gotten himself into this mess, seated at a table with a girl that he knew absolutely nothing about.

Her name was Krystal Hoffman, and he was supposed to be in love with her. There was nothing obviously wrong with Krystal; she was pretty, polite, and confident. Although Niall had only met her a few minutes ago, he could already tell she wasn't someone that wouldn't be intimidated by the spotlight. He knew that because of the way she had looked him straight in the eyes when they shook hands and the way she had boldly introduced herself to each and every member of the Capitol team. Niall supposed it had something to do with the fact that she was an aspiring actress.

There was nothing wrong with Krystal except for the one thing that was completely wrong-she wasn't the love of Niall's life like she was pretending to be. She was a means to his end, a publicity stunt. Much like he would be the same to her, a way to get noticed.

Krystal cleared her throat, obviously seeking to break the awkward silence that has fallen between the two. "So the AMA's are this weekend right? I'm sure that's a pretty big deal."

Niall nodded politely. "Yup."

"Why do I get the feeling you don't like me very much?" Krystal asked bluntly, her eyes didn't waver as they caught Niall's gaze.

Niall sighed. This is what he didn't want to happen. It was the first day and the girl already thought he hated her. "It's not that I don't like you, to be honest I don't even know you. I just don't like the idea of you, you know a fake girlfriend and all."

"Don't worry, this is strictly business for me as well. I'm just trying to make my big break is all." Krystal offered Niall a polite smile. Niall could tell the poor girl was trying, I mean it couldn't be easy, being thrown in a room with a pop star and told to get to know them. Most people would be afraid to even ask as much as a question. He had to at least give her that, she was trying.

"Well let's start with the facts. Better get brushed up on these sorts of things before the red carpet," Niall sighs, flipping over to the first page in the one inch packet that more so resembled a small novel. He watched Krystal's eyes go wide at the mention of the red carpet. He supposed a word that had come to be the norm for him was likely a dream of hers. After all it had been his once too- heading to awards shows dressed to the nines.

That dream seemed like a distant memory to him now. His reality was far different than he had ever pictured it all those years ago when he had first applied for the X-Factor. If you had told him he'd be studying facts about a fake girlfriend before heading to the red carpet he would have laughed in your face.

"So according to my sheet we met on the set of my unreleased music video," Niall began, his eyes scanning the black font on the page. The papers in his hand hold a lot more information than he would have imagined. Making up a fake relationship required a lot more planning than Niall ever thought.

"The sparks were flying from the moment we started filming," Krystal added. Niall didn't see this on his paper but he nodded at it anyway. They must have picked the right girl for the job if she could make stuff like that off the fly with such ease. He could also now assume that his music video and first single have been pre-picked for him. Yet another thing out of his control.

"Do you have experience with this? This whole being a fake girlfriend thing?" Niall asked suddenly. He had the bad habit of saying whatever came to his mind, sometimes not with the best of timing.

"I've never been someone's fake girlfriend before no," Krystal laughed, twirling a strand of her long blonde hair through her fingers. "But I'm an actress, so it's really just another role for me."

"I'm sure you'll be great," Niall said with a polite smile, and Krystal returned her gaze to the papers in front of her.

"So where am I from?" Krystal asked.

"'cuse me?" Niall asks, not quite understanding why Krystal was asking him where she was from. He didn't know that, he'd only just met the girl.

"You've got to know where your girlfriend's from silly," Krystal giggled. "You have a lot of studying to do."

Niall sighed. "Guess I do." The idea of having to study facts about someone else was enough to make him cringe. Why couldn't they just play the whole unconfirmed relationship card? Why did the whole stunt have to be so detailed?

"Think we better call it for the day, I've got some people I need to meet with," Niall said, standing from the table and pushing in his chair.

Krystal stood as well, pulling down her mini skirt and then fluffing her hair. "Well it was nice to finally meet you, boyfriend."

Niall offered his hand out for a polite handshake. Krystal instead crosses the gap between him and brings them into a hug. "If your gonna play the part, I'm afraid your going to have to show a little more affection than a handshake."

Krystal pulled away. "See you Saturday then."

"See you Saturday," Niall replied with a polite wave. He hoped Saturday would never come.

****************

Combined chapters 2 & 3 from my Wattpad version, so if you’ve ever looked there don’t be confused!

[bountyofbeads]

Hong Kong riot police, armed with pepper spray and batons, clash with protesters at airport

https://wapo.st/2P34EQO

Trump is silent on the pro-democracy protesters in both Hong Kong and in Moscow. As a *Beacon of Democracy", the silence of Trump is deafening. SHAME SHAME SHAME

White House delays some new China tariffs until Dec. 15

By Damian Paletta and Heather Long |

Published August 13 at 12:15 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted August 13, 2019 12:50 PM ET |

The White House on Tuesday said it would delay imposing tariffs on Chinese imports of cellphones, laptop computers, video game consoles, and certain types of footwear and clothing until Dec. 15, significantly later than the Sept. 1 deadline President Trump had repeatedly threatened.

The announcement, which came from the Office of the U.S. Trade Representative, ensures that Apple products and other major consumer goods would be shielded from the import tax until at least December, potentially keeping costs on these products down during the holiday shopping season.

The announcement moved stocks sharply higher. The Dow Jones industrial average climbed close to 500 points, or nearly 2 percent, on the news. The stock prices of Apple, Best Buy, Mattel and Macy’s were among those that rallied on the announcement.

Trump told reporters that he delayed the tariffs “just in case” they would have a negative impact on U.S. shoppers this holiday season.

“What we’ve done is we’ve delayed it so they won’t be relevant in the Christmas shopping season,” Trump said before boarding a flight to Pennsylvania.

His comments marked the most explicit admission he’s made so far that the tariffs could have raised costs for American consumers and businesses and had a negative impact on the economy.

A number of companies had petitioned to the White House to exempt items they import from the new tariffs, saying the costs would be either passed along to the consumer or threaten the solvency of individual firms.

USTR said the 10 percent tariff would still go into effect in September on some items, including many food products, gloves, coats and suits. But it said tariffs on other items would be waived completely “based on health, safety, national security and other factors.”

Trump, in a Twitter post and comments to reporters, suggested that the announcement was meant as an overture to Chinese officials.

“I’m not sure if it was the tariffs or the call, but the call was very productive,” Trump said, referring to a conversation this week between top Chinese and U.S. negotiators.

But he added a warning on Twitter that China needs to buy more from the United States, “As usual, China said they were going to be buying ‘big’ from our great American Farmers. So far they have not done what they said. Maybe this will be different!”

USTR provided a list of products that were exempted and would face the delayed tariff implementation date, which included highchairs, strollers, cell phones and many toys.

The announcement is the latest in a herky-jerky trade war between the White House and China. Trump has levied tariffs on $250 billion in Chinese imports, beginning last year, as he has tried to pressure Chinese leaders to change their trade practices. Chinese officials have negotiated but refused to agree to the terms Trump has demanded, leading to a prolonged standoff.

Trump has frequently threatened dramatic penalties, however, only to back away. His threat of imposing a 10 percent tariff on an additional $300 billion in Chinese imports starting next month spooked investors and many lawmakers, and it has led to a steady slide in the stock market in the past two weeks.

“These tariffs were Trump’s idea. Now his team is trying to clean this up,” said Steve Pavlick, a former Trump Treasury Department official who is now head of policy at Renaissance Macro Research. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you see this right before Christmas. They are trying to minimize the impact.”

Many businesses had worried that higher tariffs on consumer goods ahead of the Christmas shopping season could severely damage the economy at a time when some are warning that the risk of a recession next year has increased.

Trump has pressed China for months to change its trade practices, calling on it to change the way it subsidizes domestic companies, among other things. The White House has also accused China of stealing intellectual property from U.S. companies and forcing U.S. firms to transfer technology to Chinese firms.

But Trump’s demands in recent weeks have shifted, a sign of the political peril that the prolonged trade war has raised.

Trump had originally threatened to impose these new tariffs on $300 billion in consumer goods by early July, but at a June meeting with Chinese President Xi Jinping, Trump agreed to hold off. At the meeting, held during the Group of 20 summit in Osaka, Japan, Trump said the Chinese had agreed to dramatically increase purchases of U.S. agricultural goods, a nod to the U.S. farm industry that had become increasingly incensed about being caught in the middle of the trade war.

But Chinese officials never agreed to purchase the farm products Trump had promised, and this soon became clear to the U.S. agriculture industry.

Several weeks ago, U.S. Trade Representative Robert E. Lighthizer and Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin flew to Shanghai to meet with Chinese leaders about restarting trade negotiations. Those discussions went poorly, people briefed on the outcome said.

Trump had recently said that the Chinese seemed intent to wait until after the 2020 election before they would cut a deal with him, and he seemed content with that. But when he heard back from Mnuchin and Lighthizer about how poorly the trip had gone, he announced that he would move ahead with the 10 percent tariff on $300 billion in Chinese goods in September.

USTR’s announcement on Tuesday that it would delay the imposition of these tariffs on some of the most popular consumer goods was the first sign that Trump was backing down from this demand.

Still, the mid-December tariff deadline could raise fears among major retailers and importers about higher costs during a crucial window for revenue.

“It would be a whole lot easier if the tariffs started in January,” said Win Cramer, chief executive of JLab Audio, which makes wireless headphones and ear buds. “It would still be awful, but the fact of the matter is our holiday promotions, which are with every major retailer nationwide, are already designed and ready for print.”

Hong Kong riot police, armed with pepper spray and batons, clash with protesters at airport

By Gerry Shih and Timothy McLaughlin| Published August 13 at 11:49 AM ET | Washington Post | Posted August 13, 2019 12:52 PM ET |

HONG KONG — Riot police armed with pepper spray and batons clashed with protesters late Tuesday at Hong Kong’s airport, bringing violence to the doors of the key international hub while passengers remained stranded inside after many departing flights were canceled.

Anti-government protesters brought chaos to the airport for a second consecutive day Tuesday as demonstrators extended their standoff with authorities who have been unable to quell months of dissent. Protesters forced the cancellation of flights by cramming into terminals and refusing to let passengers through, sparking confrontations with travelers desperate to return home. 

Later in the evening, a group of demonstrators also seized a man they suspected to be an undercover Chinese police officer, cable-tied his hands and refused to let him through a large crowd. The incident showed increasing brazenness on the part of demonstrators in confronting what they perceive as symbols of the Chinese state.

Police entered the airport to help the man, whom paramedics tried to remove on a stretcher. The presence of officers sparked chaos, as protesters spilled out of the airport and began attacking police vans with officers inside. 

At one point, an officer was overrun and his baton taken by protesters, who beat him with it. The group retreated only after the officer appeared to pull his gun from its holster.

After mass cancellations Monday evening, flights had been gradually returning to normal throughout Tuesday, even as thousands of black-clad demonstrators returned to occupy parts of the airport, carrying placards denouncing police brutality and calling for freedom for Hong Kong.

But by late afternoon, with protesters using luggage carts as makeshift barricades and blocking passengers from reaching the departure gates, causing long lines, authorities said they were suspending check-in at both of the airport’s terminals. 

Arguments erupted between frustrated passengers and protesters, with some stranded passengers crying and saying they just wanted to get home.

Pavol Cacara, a Slovakian machinery importer who faced off with protesters, said his flight to Istanbul was canceled once already. 

“You cannot make freedom by taking freedom from others!” he bellowed, shaking with rage, at a mass of young demonstrators in black T-shirts. “This is what the Chinese want you to do, to make you lose support of the world. You are helping them!”

Tensions soared. As Cacara fumed, some protesters tried to calm him down and offered to help him find alternate flights while others pleaded with him to see Hong Kong’s plight. “You don’t die if you leave! We will die here!” called a voice in the rear.

After a 20-minute standoff, protesters parted to form a narrow channel to let a few passengers through. “Thank you for understanding. Please tell the world!” one yelled after Cacara.

A more disturbing scene began taking shape later in the day when a group of protesters surrounded a man they believed to be an undercover police officer from Shenzhen, the Chinese city across the border from Hong Kong. There was no confirmation of the man’s identity or profession, but the protesters did not let him move or leave for hours.

The man appeared to fall unconscious, but protesters refused to let paramedics through. When about half a dozen paramedics reached him, they struggled to move him through the crush of protesters that formed around them. Those closest to the melee held their phones aloft and tried to film the struggling man. Some protesters jeered and laughed at the man. Paramedics also pleaded with protesters to hand them water to give him as he sat motionless on the ground.

Protesters held a handmade sign over the man that read in English, “I am China’s police. I pretend to be protester,” as he struggled to remain conscious.

Earlier, some protesters chanted “return the eye” — a reference to an incident Sunday night when a young woman was shot in the eye, possibly by a bean bag round, during a clash between police and protesters. Senior officers said Tuesday they were unsure how the woman was injured but could not promise that she would not be charged with rioting.

Police said they were closely monitoring the situation at the airport, working with airport authorities, and would carefully consider the need to use force.

Confusion descended over the airport by evening as passengers tried to scale barricades of luggage carts and human walls formed by protesters, who tried to hold them off with outstretched arms.

Still, the confrontations stopped short of violence. Time and again, protesters scolded their peers when tempers flared. Chants of “Lang jing!” — Calm down! — rang through the departure hall when arguments threatened to boil over.

Roving teams of protesters handed snacks to stranded passengers and appealed for understanding as they distributed pamphlets detailing their case against police brutality. Others bowed repeatedly and said “sorry” without yielding their ground in the face of angry passengers.

“Sorry for inconvenience. We have no choice,” said a sign held in front of a barricade blocking departures.

Other passengers took a more sympathetic view.

Krishna Hariharan, a 27-year-old IT engineer from Chennai, India, said his five-day holiday in Hong Kong was already extended to seven days because of canceled flights. His boss was not pleased, and he had to sleep in the terminal because he was running out of money, he said.

But he praised a group of protesters who had come over to apologize and give him bottled water and biscuits.

“I can’t blame anyone,” Hariharan said. “They are seeking justice, and it just happens that our fates are intertwined like this. If the government comes down hard on them — then what are they governing for?”

Carrie Lam, Hong Kong’s leader, said the city risked being “pushed into an abyss” and warned that it could be “smashed to pieces.”

“The stability and well-being of 7 million people are in jeopardy,” Lam said. 

As the summer of unrest rolls on, the situation is becoming increasingly tense. Statements from Chinese government officials and state media have grown steadily more shrill, accusing protesters of “terrorism” and warning of an impending crackdown in the semiautonomous financial center.

The political crisis, triggered by now-suspended plans to allow extraditions to mainland China, has swollen as Hong Kongers demand the bill’s full withdrawal, an independent inquiry into police actions toward protesters, greater democracy and an amnesty for those arrested in clashes between demonstrators and police. 

The upheaval has come at a politically sensitive time for Chinese leader Xi Jinping, ahead of the 70th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China, which the ruling Communist Party plans to mark with a military parade in October.

Hong Kong-based airline Cathay Pacific, which has drawn the ire of Beijing after some of its staff recently joined protests, said Tuesday that a second pilot from the airline has been suspended. The pilot, a second officer working on a flight Tuesday from Manchester to Hong Kong, was suspended for “misuse of company information in violation of the company’s internal code of conduct,” the company said in a statement. It added that internal disciplinary proceedings were underway. 

On Saturday, Hong Kong’s flagship airline said it had suspended a pilot who was arrested during earlier protests. 

International calls grew, meanwhile, for authorities in Hong Kong and China to dial back tensions in the city. 

U.N. human rights chief Michelle Bachelet urged authorities to immediately investigate police use of force in their recent crackdown on protesters. Her spokesman said there was “credible evidence” to suggest that Hong Kong law enforcement officials had used less-than-lethal force in ways that are “prohibited by international norms and standards.”

Chris Patten, the last British governor of colonial Hong Kong before the city’s return to Chinese sovereignty in 1997, warned that a Chinese intervention would be a “catastrophe” for both Hong Kong and China. 

Speaking to BBC radio, he urged Lam and Xi to find a way to bring people together.

“There is a degree of frustration and anger at the government refusing to give any sensible ground at all, which probably provokes more violence,” Patten said.

Anna Kam in Hong Kong and Shibani Mahtani in Cadiz City, Philippines, contributed to this report.

Protesters shut down Hong Kong airport as China warns of ‘terrorism,’ raising fears of military crackdown

By Timothy McLaughlin and Anna Kam |

Published August 12 at 12:34 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted August 13, 2019 1:18 PM ET |

HONG KONG — Thousands of protesters shut down Hong Kong’s international airport Monday, defying an intensifying police crackdown, as China issued ominous warnings that described the protests as “terrorism” and began massing a paramilitary force in a southern border city.

Fears have been mounting that Beijing — squeezed by a trade dispute with the United States and approaching a nationwide celebration of the founding of the People’s Republic of China — will soon resort to military action to quell the pro-democracy protests in the semiautonomous territory. Chinese officials and state news media actively stoked those fears Monday.

“The radical demonstrators in Hong Kong have repeatedly attacked police with extremely dangerous tools in recent days, which constitutes a serious violent crime, and now they are descending into terrorism,” said Yang Guang, a spokesman for the Hong Kong and Macao Affairs Office in Beijing. It was the first time the office had portrayed the protests in Hong Kong as “terrorism.”

“We should relentlessly crack down on such violent criminal acts without mercy, and we firmly support Hong Kong police and judicial authorities in bringing the criminals to justice as soon as possible,” Yang told reporters from state and Hong Kong media.

The nationalist Global Times tabloid tweeted a video showing Chinese armored personnel carriers heading toward the southern city of Shenzhen, which borders Hong Kong, ahead of what the paper called “large-scale exercises” by the People’s Armed Police, a paramilitary unit. “The tasks and missions of the Armed Police include participating in dealing with rebellions, riots, serious violent and illegal incidents, terrorist attacks and other social security incidents,” the newspaper elaborated in an accompanying story.

And China’s state broadcaster, CCTV, issued a commentary Monday night headlined “Alert! There are signs of terrorism on the streets of Hong Kong,”in which it warned: “No country can accept terrorist acts in its own country … Hong Kong has reached an important juncture. ‘End violence and restore order’ is the most important, urgent and overriding task of Hong Kong at present!”

Earlier, the Chinese government department responsible for Hong Kong held its third news conference in three weeks — it previously had not held a briefing in the 22 years since Britain returned the territory to the mainland.

Some of the protesters who had been occupying the airport’s arrivals hall swarmed into the departures area Monday, prompting authorities to cancel all flights and advise travelers to leave one of the world’s busiest hubs. Airport operations resumed Tuesday morning, though there were some delays and cancellations stemming from the previous night’s disruption.

Monday’s protest came in response to a sharp increase in the level of force employed by Hong Kong’s embattled police. Hours before the airport shutdown, two police officers elsewhere in the city pinned a black-clad demonstrator to the concrete, one officer’s knee pressing the young man’s face into a pool of his own blood.

“I’ve already been arrested,” the man yelled as he cried for help. “Don’t do this, I’m begging you.”

The scene, captured Sunday night by a cameraman from the Hong Kong Free Press, was jarring even in a city now accustomed to weekends awash with tear gas. It unleashed a fresh wave of anger toward Hong Kong’s police force and the government more broadly, spurring thousands of demonstrators to respond by occupying the airport.

At the airport Monday, officials had halted all departures by late afternoon, affecting tens of thousands of passengers.

Hong Kong’s airport authority said all flights were suspended Monday at about 3:30 p.m. local time (3:30 a.m. Eastern time).

After sitting in the arrivals hall for much of the day, many protesters began leaving the airport in the evening amid rumors on social media and messaging apps that police were preparing for a large clearance operation. The protesters, many dressed in black, streamed across the roads around the airport, bringing traffic to a near-standstill. Some travelers abandoned buses and taxis and wheeled bags through the traffic. Many said they were headed to a nearby bus station.

On Sunday night, Hong Kong police intensified their crackdown with new and more aggressive tactics after more than two months of sustained protests and more than 600 arrests.

Officers disguised themselves as protesters to arrest suspects, launched tear gas inside a subway station and fired on protesters at close range with less-than-lethal ammunition. One young woman was shot in the face with what appeared to be a bean bag round, severely injuring her eye. Police said Monday that the videos and photos had to be verified and that they could not confirm “the reasoning behind this lady’s injury.”

But the incident provided the latest rallying point for protesters.

“The police have had enough, to be honest. They feel like they have been bullied for two months now, and they knew themselves more than capable to use real force and tactics to control the situation,” said Clement Lai, a former police superintendent who now runs his own security firm.

“If the order was given that they need to escalate their action and their force, these guys are more than happy to do that.”

Mel, 40, who took part in the airport demonstrations and carried a sign with pictures of bloodied protesters, said she wanted “to show the world that what we are looking for is freedom.”

She said she was angry about the “dirty methods” police used Sunday night and early Monday morning.

Mel, who gave only her first name, added that a decision was made among many protesters to leave early Monday evening because of fears that police would forcibly clear the airport.

The police actions appear to be part of broader efforts by the Hong Kong government, with the support of officials in Beijing, to end the political crisis, through an approach that includes ramping up pressure on businesses, leveling heavy charges against arrested protesters and using state-controlled media to pump out increasingly shrill, conspiratorial claims about who is organizing the demonstrations.

“After a period of several weeks of uncertainty as to who was coordinating the government response, last week saw the rollout of Beijing’s multipronged, comprehensive strategy to deal with the protests,” said Sebastian Veg, a historian of China and a professor at the School of Advanced Studies in Social Sciences in Paris. “It consists in uniting all forces with whom common ground can be found to isolate and defeat the enemy.”

He added, “The aim is to turn public opinion against the protests by drastically raising the cost of participation.”

The new police tactics came after former deputy police commissioner Alan Lau was called out of retirement last week to help the embattled force.

Lai credited the new approach, in part, to Lau’s return. “He is coming back with a mission,” the former superintendent said.

Hospital officials said that 45 people were injured in weekend protests and that 25 remained hospitalized. Two were in serious condition.

One police officer who has worked on the front lines over the past month said officers’ new ploy of disguising themselves as protesters — wearing masks, yellow hard hats and black civilian clothes — was a deliberate tactic from the police Special Duties Unit, nicknamed the “Flying Tigers,” to sow mistrust among protesters.

This is a tactic they will continue to use, the officer said, speaking on the condition of anonymity because he was not authorized to talk to reporters. Police on Monday also displayed trucks mounted with water cannons that they could deploy to disperse crowds.

One 22-year-old protester who has been on the front line for weeks admitted that the more aggressive moves by police had caught some demonstrators off guard and yielded results.

“It was quite effective for them; they are changing their strategy,” he said. “We know now the police have no limits. They will not follow the rules and the law.”

The government, in what has become a weekly ritual, condemned protesters Monday and said a police officer was injured after being hit with a firebomb tossed by a demonstrator.

Protests began earlier this year over the government’s attempts to push through a bill that would allow extraditions to mainland China. The legislation, which numerous critics said would be a severe blow to Hong Kong’s autonomy, was suspended by Hong Kong leader Carrie Lam in June.

Lam, however, has refused to fully withdraw the measure. She has issued apologies as well as condemnation, none of which have quelled the crisis. Most recently, she has pivoted to focus on how the unrest is damaging Hong Kong’s economy.

Protesters have offered a list of five demands that has shifted slightly in recent weeks. Much of the focus is now on the creation of an independent commission to investigate the handling of the bill and the subsequent fallout.

An inquiry has drawn wide support, with the Hong Kong General Chamber of Commerce, law groups and civil-society organizations backing its creation, but the government continues to resist such calls. Lam has said she thinks an in-house investigation by police of their actions is sufficient and has not addressed the other demands.

The front-line protester said the new police strategy would only harden those who have already dedicated themselves to the fight.

“You can see our equipment — shields, helmets — is for defense, not for offense,” he said. “From now on, I think that will change. Some types of weapons will be used. We are standing there and getting beat by them.”

Anna Fifield, Shibani Mahtani and Tiffany Liang contributed to this report.

[vlgeo439019-blog]

What is the future of rural spaces?

Anna Mae’s Bakery & Restaurant in Millbank, Ontario.  

At the beginning of this course I had a pretty vague understanding as to what rurality was. As most naive young folks believe, I had this impression of rural spaces that was very much agricultural-based, leaving little wiggle room for other ideas and different perceptions of the countryside to exist, those of which were very much inspired from nature and the outdoors. I am now entirely a believer in the diversity of rural spaces in Canada, those of which range from small, quaint little towns such as Millbank, Ontario to what one could call the vast wilderness in both Banff and Jasper National Parks. 

With all of these landscapes, rural by nature of course, one must beg the question - what is their future? In the next 50 years what will become of these places, the vast diversity of rural spaces that we have all come to know and love?

I found this question a little disheartening, to be truly honest. Not the question itself, but the direction my answer was going. Based on what I’ve learned throughout this class, rural spaces are far from appreciated within society. Not only is the rate of urban expansion and sprawl growing, but there are no measures to prevent this from occurring. Land preservation initiatives are overall very ineffective in Ontario and other areas in Canada. In addition, with an increased number of people moving into cities, urban areas are pressured to expand despite perceived barriers such as green space. 

For the purposes of the blog prompt this week, I will discuss each of these issues in detail.

Urban Expansion, Sprawl, & Population Growth: 

As I’ve illustrated in other blog posts previous to this, urban expansion is a serious issue in Ontario. In a report released by the University of Guelph titled “Protecting Southern Ontario’s Farmland” (I’ve definitely referenced this before), a significant amount of land, more particularly the agricultural landscape, is continually threatened due to urban development and sprawl.

Between 1981 and 1986 prime agricultural land represented 59% of all land in Canada that has been converted to urban uses. In 1996 19% of all Class 1 agricultural land in Canada was occupied by urban development - this percentage increases each year. In fact, urban centres consume land equal to the size of Hamilton, Ontario every year. 

At the current rate an additional 260,000 acres (1,070 square kilometres) will be urbanized by 2021 in areas north of Toronto, a space almost double the size of Toronto currently. 

How do we combat this? How do we inspire change to protect our farmland and precious green spaces? 

I don’t know if there is an adequate solution to this problem. In Toronto for instance, census data from 2016 indicates that this city grows at a rate  exceeds the national average. Since the last census in 2016 the population of Toronto increased by 6.2 percent, representing nearly 2 million people. City planners are encouraged by legislation and the creation of the Green Belt to build upwards rather than outwards, but at some point these restrictions will not be enough. This is especially the case with a growing immigrant population. 

Nearly half of Toronto’s population is represented by new Canadians, those of which move to the city for the resources, jobs, and the pockets of familiar communities this urban centre provides. Homes need to be built, apartments need to be raised - the need for housing will not vanish any time soon, not in Canada’s largest city and most substantial immigrant ‘magnet’ so to speak. Toronto remains as Canada’s top destination for migrant populations, despite a growing interest in the prairies. 

Lack of Land Preservation:

Some people believe that a growing movement to protect and preserve rural landscapes will help to prevent urban expansion and sprawl. The Greenbelt for instance, is considered as a great success in southern Ontario. With over two million hectares of valuable farmland, forests, wetlands, and watersheds protected in the Greater Golden Horseshoe region, development initiatives are virtually non-existent. The Places to Grow Act, developed alongside the Green Belt, legally reinforces and encourages the growth of major cities where it is needed most - downtown cores. 

The Green Belt.

Or so people think. 

Yes, both the Green Belt and Places to Grow act are successful, but what about those spaces beyond the Green Belt? Areas like Shelburne, Guelph, and Barrie? 

Leap-Frog Effect: 

This legislation has unknowingly curtailed the development of new subdivisions and housing complexes to the edges of the Greater Golden Horseshoe (GGH) - to those communities and municipalities that have access to major highways such as 400 and 401, but are not necessarily prepared for a new commuter population. This anomaly is recognized as the leap-frog effect.   

 Changing Land-use in Southern Ontario. The large red area in the centre of the map is the Simcoe County area.

The above map is from a research project conducted by Jonathan Scida using GIS technology. According to this figure, many municipalities within the southern half of Simcoe County, just outside the reach of the Green Belt, have experienced increased levels of urban sprawl and development. This is a result of close access to major highways and arterial roads, those of which are viable transportation options to access Toronto for employment purposes. 

Developers are drawn to this land because it’s largely unprotected, land is cheap, and people will flock to these areas for a chance to live in homes that are within reach of the city. As a result of this, those communities outside of the Green Belt are largely ignored and are forced to face continued development and loss of agricultural land. This is a problem as 70% of Ontario’s prime agricultural land lies outside of the Green Belt boundary. 

No Legislation to Protect Agriculture:

What about legislation? 

As I’ve mentioned before in previous blogs, this is largely ineffective as well. Currently the protection of agricultural land isn’t legislated in Ontario - in Canada. The Green Belt may exist, but it does very little to change how agricultural land is treated in regards to its land use. Yes, this land may be used to produce food, but on a legal-level it is considered the same as land that is used for purely commercial or residential purposes, all the result of the Planning Act, 1990. 

As illustrated within a report released by the Ontario Federation of Agriculture, “Ontario’s current land-use planning system is geared towards the accommodation of urban (residential) development and other urban-related land uses within the framework of “good planning principles”. Within this framework, farmland is typically viewed as a background landscape upon which development is to be painted, or in other words, as tarmac in-waiting”. 

As this continues to occur other policy tools such as land easements, stewardship programs, and land trusts prove to be inadequate. These tools are largely undeveloped and depend on volunteers for their successful functioning.

In addition, decisions are routinely made that negatively impact agricultural interests and often act to ignore the needs, wants, and demands of farmers. Plans are often put forward that undermine agricultural interests and there is very little pressure and motivation for planners and developers to evaluate the true impacts of their activities on the ability farmers have to preserve and act as stewards of their lands. Parcels of land are often divided as a result of construction and serve as barriers between farmed lands. 

Despite the fact that agriculture is integral to Canada and Ontario’s economy, policy and decision-makers are deaf to the needs of farmers. Farmers have no voice, and this is only going to increase in the near future if legislation and planning does not change. 

Tourism & Creative Destruction:

Finally, in the future rural tourism is likely to increase across Canada and within the province of Ontario. Rural areas offer tourists an assortment of unique experiences that are not easily replicated elsewhere in the world. Not only does the countryside offer people the ability to relax, experience nature, and the great outdoors, but allows people to develop an appreciation for a culture, history, and heritage that is unlike their own. 

St. Jacobs Market.  

St. Jacobs for instance, a community 20-30 minutes north of Waterloo in Ontario, offers tourists the chance to experience the local Mennonite culture and purchase local foods, goods, and produce from an internationally recognized farmer’s market, one that is home to over 300 vendors offering a good deal. If people have the desire to do so, they may partake in a horse and buggy ride, walk on some of the local trails alongside the Conestoga River, or check out the model railway downtown.

Although these experiences are largely successful in bringing tourists into the area, generating jobs for the local population, and a surge of wealth that acts to help renew the community, it must be mentioned that many rural towns and villages that become tourist hubs often succumb to what is known as the “tourist gaze” or “creative destruction”. 

What do these terms mean?

Rural spaces such as St. Jacobs are heavily transformed and commodified to meet the needs of tourists, largely urbanites. Heritage is over-exaggerated and buildings and destinations are designed to appear as though they originate right from a time in the distant past. A perfect example of this is the Tim Hortons in St. Jacobs. This building, as seen below, is purposefully designed to look very similar to a ranch. 

St. Jacobs Tim Hortons

Yes, this may act to preserve rural areas and St. Jacobs in a sense, but it must be argued that the authentic aspect of rural communities is lost as a result of this. The opinions, stories, and views of local populations are lost as a result of continued changes that reflect the urban view of what constitutes as rural (rural idyll). 

Will this be the case for all rural towns and villages in the future? I really hope not, but I have my doubts.

As I mentioned a bit earlier, I’m more than a bit disheartened. The future of rural communities and landscapes is looking pretty bleak, especially based on all the research we’ve had the opportunity to conduct in class. Fortunately, I haven’t lost all hope.

I think that it’s our responsibility as educated citizens and students to play a role in advocating for rural spaces. We need to fight for the voices of farmers and open up the metaphorical political, social, and economic doors that act as barriers to their speech and allow them to be heard within society. We need to fight for better land-use laws and legislation to protect farmland and green spaces. We need to fight for the better management of tourism - authentic tourism if that’s even possible. We need to be spokespeople for our home and native land (insert Canadian national anthem here).

I know that I’m hardly inspiring, but I think that my point has been made. We need to do better and make better decisions if we plan on improving the future of rural spaces in Canada. We can’t expect positive change to happen - we need to be advocates and make positive change happen!

 - Vanessa 

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

The building and disappearance of Good Go boats

“Good Go boats were sold for cash off the books and leaders used the money to send their kids to college, etc... over 150 Good Go boats disappeared off the radar screen.” US former member.

Karen Taylor: “I sometimes wonder what happened to all those boats that we built.”

“One former Unification Church member tells of working seven days a week from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. for $8.00 a week while sleeping in a sleeping bag in a room shared with thirty others in order to meet the goal of building 150 boats by July in the Church’s “Master Marine” fishing boat plant.” “Moonies and their Money”   New York Daily News Bella English   May 5, 1981   page 5

The East Sun Building    Karen Taylor   March 19, 2001

The East Sun Building was my prison for nearly two years. Not only did I work there in building the Good Go sports fishing boats, but I also lived there, as did all the Master Marine members. I believe that it was considered cheap and convenient to keep us in that huge, cold and dark hulk of a place. Eventually we were moved to the New Yorker hotel due to Fire Dept inspections. Of course, it was completely illegal and hazardous for us to live in the building, but like the Blues Brothers, we were on a mission for God!

The East Sun Building was located directly across from a large housing project. It was a very dangerous area with the predominant occupants being black and Hispanic Americans. To venture out at night was to tempt fate, but I have walked to the ESB from the Long Island City subway station quite often during daylight hours without incident.

I felt like a prisoner in the place and I refer to my time there as "repaying my debt to society" or "my Danbury sentence". We were never taken anywhere for Sunday outings while living in the place and the brothers had awful living conditions. Their living quarters were an enormous windowless dark room on the 2nd floor with a bed platform built of plywood that ran the entire length of the room. It had been promised by Mr. Kamiyama that the platform would be carpeted, but that never occurred.

The handful of sisters that were sent to work in the place had much better living conditions, but we all felt trapped and there was a heavy atmosphere of unhappiness in the building. Many members were sent there from different church departments, particularly CARP, who were considered problematic. The ESB effectively became a dumping ground.

One CARP member was sent to work in Master Marine who had been discovered during an aggressive witnessing campaign. Bobby was a 16 year old runaway. This boy eventually broke into the Master Marine office one night, stole about $12,000, and vanished into New York City. He knew that he would not be pursued since he left a note clearly indicating that he would contact the Dept. of Immigration and reveal how many illegal immigrants were working for Master Marine if we pressed charges. Smart kid.

I loved Mr. Kamiyama's (TK) explanation to Master Marine members that this was indemnity to prevent a serious injury to one of the boat builders. The truth is, TK had already been instructed by Rev. Moon that the boy should go home, but nobody took action, even after I spoke to the production supervisor about Bobby's bad behavior. This theft was preventable. I would call this "indumbnity"!

We were visited by Rev. Moon fairly regularly and I have had a unique experience or two with him while working there.

 http://www.tparents.org/Library/Unification/Talks/Taylor/Taylor-EastSun.htm

Master Marine Gel Coat    Karen Taylor   March 20, 2001

Yes, we Master Marine members worked hard, it was basically the MFT work ethic that we followed. We worked 6 1/2 days a week, and our only recreation was occasional soccer games and a video night on Sundays.

Shortly after I arrived, the CF, Bobby Wilson, was replaced with Louis Burgess, as T Kamiyama was assigned the responsibility of MM. Bobby W. was a good hearted, decent guy, but it appeared to me that he lacked the organizational abilities to reach the goal of one completed boat per day. We had been instructed by Rev. Moon to complete 300 boats in one year’s time. Hustle, hustle, hustle!

To this day, I still admire Louis, because he pulled it off. Louis had a dramatic sort of character, but he was no b.s.er, and I really appreciated that. He organized an assembly line and production procedure and soon we were cookin’! I used to watch those Good Gos trailer out of the assembly area on their way up the Sawmill Pkway to Belvedere each night.

“Questionable circumstances”, Oh, yes! We had no proper ventilation system, so the styrene fumes generated by the resin as it cured could make you feel pretty dopey. The acetone we used to clean resining tools emitted fumes as well, and my nose was often bleeding as the lining was corroded. There was no vacuum for cleanup of the fiberglass dust. Surely a few Shopvacs couldn’t have cost too much, but brooms were commonly used. The dust was everywhere, it could be seen floating about, and it got into our clothing and into our pores. We all had the “glass itch” which was excruciating, particularly when I showered, and the hot water amplified the problem. I took to singing, “Torturing every part of me, fiberglass rules my body”, to inject a little levity into the situation.

I worked in the gel coating booth in the Small Parts section for a while. I must have inhaled I don’t know how much chemical particles. There was no mask other than an ineffectual gas mask. No ventilation system to suck out the fumes. The catalyst for the gel coat was a very strong peroxide and when it was airborne it would burn the sensitive skin around my face and neck like crazy.

I asked to research and set up a professional mask system with an internal air supply. My Small Parts CF screamed at me, “You have no idea of how to build one boat a day”, i.e., I was slowing them down. SHE then marched into the gel coating booth to prove how tough she was (what a macha muchacha!) and began to spray wearing only a particle mask. In a couple of days she became quite ill, and I figured that she had too much exposure.

Louis moved me from Small Parts into the Stockroom. I worked with Dale Garratt to completely renovate and organize the place. He was very thorough, and did a good job.

I learned a few things while I was there, and we gained a sense of achievement and self confidence, which was valuable. There was a lot of needless suffering, however, and only because there was not sufficient responsible care for the workers exercised. We had a few cut fingers, but nothing major, in terms of injuries. I was asked to become a first aider to provide emergency medical care, so I was enrolled in a Red Cross advanced first aid course. That was worthwhile.

I sometimes wonder what happened to all those boats that we built. That was 20 years ago, but some times it feels like yesterday.

http://www.tparents.org/Library/Unification/Talks/Taylor/Taylor-GelCoat.htm

Ocean Church failed to bring in the members Moon hoped for

[allaboutshouto]

Title: Sky Thief

Day 3 (I know, I’m late af): One was a Book Thief. The Other Stole the Sky.

Summary: 

"How are things up in the sky?" Shouto murmured.

Izuku peeked open one eye, leaning to the left to avoid the sun in his eyes.

"Blue. The truest of blue. And fluffy large clouds like cotton candy."

A beat of silence before Shouto asked, hesitantly.

"What does cotton candy taste like?"

(Or an AU in which Izuku becomes a nurse and Shouto is a patient at the hospital he is working at. Tasting cotton candy sounds like a good idea for a first date.)

Tags: Quirkless Izuku, Pro Hero Shouto, Shouto is suffering visual injury and cannot see, so Izuku is currently being his eyes, First Date, Fluff, Deadpan Humor courtesy of Shouto

The first time Izuku saw Hero Shouto wander along the hall of the hospital, he promptly blacked out and was kindly dragged by the feet back to the employee room by his mentor. 

He had his reasons for fainting of course. It wasn’t everyday that he got to see one of the top heroes in the world in person. And certainly not Hero Shouto: the second strongest in the world of the next generation and everyone's heartthrob. He played a pivotal role in the downfall of the League of Villains. Hero Shouto was also Izuku's age and already, he had accomplished so many admirable feats. A hero seemingly unfailable, strong and capable; and yet here he was, padding along the deserted hospital hallway with slow careful steps and jumping at the slightest of sounds, white gauze wounding tightly around his eyes. Izuku knew the reason for Hero Shouto’s visual injury. He had followed the news of the Battle of Fushimi Inari — raid of the Villain Syndicate — very closely. With over 300 Pro-Heroes mobilized and all civilians evacuated, this raid had been even bigger than the raid of the League of Villains six years ago.

This raid lasted for two days and nearly grazed Kyoto to the ground. But the heroes emerged victorious with no casualties. Izuku had burst into tears when he’d read the news that day. This was the generation of heroes he grew up with, he didn't want to hear in the news that one of them had died in battle. All Might would forever be his idol but the heroes from his generation were the ones that he paid a lot attention to right now.

There were numerous injuries, both grievous and life threatening. The out of town hospital Izuku was employed at had deployed nearly all its personnel in aid. Izuku, only in his first month of employment, was asked to stay at the hospital. His mentor feared that he couldn't handle the rush and stress of on field healing. He didn't disagree but that didn't mean he hid his disappointment when he was told to stay put. He knew he could do more. He knew he was capable. If only he was given a chance.

Everything boiled down to the fact that all the heroes were in highly-facilitated hospitals, with the best and most capable medical teams aiding their recovery. Yet, here Hero Shouto was, in Izuku’s rural hospital, all while he was among the grievously injured heroes; his sight damaged due to a villain with a dust manipulating quirk. Hence, Izuku had every reason to believe that Hero Shouto was located in one of the fancy hospitals with newest equipments and top-tiered doctors,  which Izuku’s small town hospital was in no possession of. Then again, Izuku had full trust in his eyesight and brain capacity to process images. Because that was definitely Hero Shouto. Half white half red hair, the burn over his left eyes peeking beyond the bandage. That was definitely Hero Shouto. But he wasn't informed of Hero Shouto being here. At all... Did his mentor somehow forget this one bit of important information? This was unlike her, but Izuku sent the message on his phone anyway. He needed to know the extent of Hero Shouto's injuries and where his medical records were. 

The second time he met Hero Shouto, it was for a check up. His mentor had explained that she did indeed forget to inform him. Hero Shouto had requested to be moved to a quieter hospital, without letting the press and nosy paparazzi know, so he was moved in during the night. His mentor had been too tired to think about informing him. Not that Izuku blamed her, she had been on the field for a full three days with hardly any sleep. 

Izuku quickly flipped through Hero Shouto's medical report. Just like what the news had said, Hero Shouto was temporarily blinded and was waiting for a corneal transplant. His hearing was reduced and injured due to blastwave, luckily not too severe to require a cochlear implant, but he needed quietude for the middle ear fluid to settle down. Besides the injuries from the battle, he didn't have any chronic conditions. There were notes about his burn and the condition of his left eye, but Izuku didn't read through them. Somehow it seemed private, even though he had the right to go through the medical history. But something in him told him no, that that really was not for him and he could do just fine with the information he had now. Izuku flew up the stairs to the top floor, greeting in-patients and colleagues he encountered on the way with a polite nod. He had forgone the chirpy greetings. His voice wasn't working properly at the moment. If he opened his mouth, the chance of him screeching and squealing in anticipation was high. Room 453 was located at the very end of the hallway, overlooking the dense woods and glistening sea beyond. Izuku sprinted the last few steps, heart hammering wildly in his chest, until he stood in front of the door, breathless and suddenly questioning himself.

He couldn't believe this. He was actually meeting one of the best heroes of this age. Did he really have the skill to treat heroes with top priority as Hero Shouto? Had he learnt enough to treat a human? Unbiddenly, doubt flooded his mind. Suddenly it was hard to breathe, and his vision swayed, a mini panic attack. Izuku forced himself to lift his lips up. A smile, even fake and unreal, was enough to trick his brain into thinking everything was fine. All Might smiled through everything, even in the direst of situations. If All Might could do that, then Izuku definitely could too. Behind this door, there was a human needing his help and assistance. He would damn well smile his worry away and help him to the best of his ability. He raised his hand and knocked his knuckles on the door. In the empty corridor, the sound carried. "This is—" Izuku swallowed hard, cursing himself, and tried again. "Midoriya Izuku. May I come in for the morning check-up?" He did it, he managed to say it! In second try but he did it. He gave himself a pat on his back. Being proud of all the little accomplishments was how he got to this point today. From inside the room, a voice floated out, rusty and gravel like leaves running across pebbles, unlike the smooth tonal Izuku heard on the off chance Hero Shouto spoke in an interview. "Come in." With one final intake, Izuku pulled the door to the side. "Please excuse my intru —" Only to see Hero Shouto sitting on the ledge of the window, with his back to the door and his legs dangling over the edge, eyes still bandaged. The file in his arms clattered to the ground as Izuku raced over, hugging the midsection of Hero Shouto and bodily pulled him inside with ease. Izuku didn't know if Hero Shouto was really weakened or he was just humoring Izuku. Hero Shouto obediently sat on the sofa, turning his head in Izuku's direction, head tilting to the side in an apparent question. "What," Izuku wheezed, "do you think," he took another breath, swallowed and punched his chest repeatedly to calm his heart, "you are doing? You could have fallen to your death!" Hero Shouto had the gale to smile lightly, filled of interest, along with humor and something else Izuku could not decipher. But right this moment, he just wanted to shake some sense into this crazy hero. "I just can't see. My quirk still works. I can catch myself if I fall. I'm not helpless." "I do not care.You are my patient. And I put my patient's safety first even if they don't put their own first." Izuku balled his fists by his sides. This was just typical Hero's thinking, believing they could help themselves without ever thinking about others who cared about them. Izuku shook his head outwardly. He was the biggest hypocrite. Had life turned out differently, had he had a quirk, he wouldn't give two cents about his own safety and health. But that wasn't his life at the moment, his life now was to make sure everyone was up to their health. "So please don't put your life in danger. You worry me." He tacked on when Hero Shouto still donned that unreadable half smirk. He didn’t notice that smile falling into one of confusion, already busying himself with reading the vitals and measuring Hero Shouto's blood pressure. Izuku quickly fell into the spectrum of focus. This was what he was trained to do and he would do his job well. He was in the middle of taking out new role of gauze to redress the wound when Hero Shouto spoke. "I just wanted to watch the sunrise." "I see," was what Izuku replied, not really paying attention to what Hero Shouto said. He was busy applying antibiotic ointment on the gauze. An unnecessary step since they were medical class gauzes, but he was nothing if not double careful. "I can't." "Hmm?" "I can't see." Izuku finally looked at Hero Shouto, who wore a blank face. It took him a moment to run the conversation through his head. Once it made sense, he snorted and dropped the gauze on the tray. "Your sense of humor needs to be admitted to the hospital for being bone dry." "But you laughed." Hero Shouto smiled crookedly, as if he wasn't used to smiling. "Todoroki Shouto." He extended his arm toward Izuku. He didn't introduce himself as a Hero, Izuku noted and took the offered hand, blisters littering it. "Midoriya Izuku, nurse in training." "Happy to be under your supervision." "You can make me happy by not putting your life in danger and save my heart from early constriction," Izuku smoothly snapped back, stern and full of disapproval. In the back of his mind, he noticed how snarky he was being and shook his head. Kacchan was rubbing off on him. "Duly noted," Hero Shouto — or maybe just Shouto for now since he’d introduced himself that way — agreed with ease and leant back against the armchair. Izuku huffed but got to work untying the old gauze around his eyes. "I hope I don't need to have you sign an actual written agreement." Shouto chuckled but didn’t say anything else. They lapsed into silence, filled with comfort and ease. Izuku unwound the last layer of gauze and removed the cotton padding, wincing at the sight before him. Shouto's eyes were swollen red. It must have been painful, and yet he hadn't heard Shouto making any noise of discomfort. The corneas were braised with dust into permanent damage. A transplant needed to be carried out as soon as possible.This also begged the question as to why there hadn't been a corneal transplant carried out already at the moment of injury. Shouto was of enough importance to warrant first priority on the waitlist for a transplant the moment a donor for a cornea appeared. Izuku filed that question away to hound his mentor with later; he also was nothing if not nosy and refocused. He took out the anti bacterial solution and cotton balls, and hesitated. He hated that he had to hurt people so they could get better. "Please bear with me. I need to clean the wounds." He bit down on his lips. He knew Shouto wouldn't care, but he felt the need to warn him anyway. It was always a part of his procedure. "Don't worry. I'm used to pain," Shouto replied airily. That really didn't ease Izuku's nerves, but he took what he could get. Then, as gently as possible, he pressed the cotton ball around Shouto's inflamed eyelids. Shouto twitched but didn't jerk away. He sat perfectly still. Izuku cleaned the right eye quickly and moved onto the left, extra careful with his scar.. "What color is the sunrise?" Shouto suddenly asked, completely out of the blue. Izuku understood this as a distraction from pain and willingly went along with. He glanced out of the window. "Peach color. With smokey clouds. It is very blue too. Blue like the color of your ice, Shouto. You can actually hear the blue riding along the waves crashing against shore.” Izuku gently tucked stray strands of hair behind Shouto’s ears so he could clean the wound. “And lots of yellow, the yellow of a slice of lemon when you put it in honey tea." Shouto made an appreciative noise in his throat. "What about the trees?" "Very fresh. And green. Green like cucumber floating in sparkling water." "I hate sparking water, Izuku." "Me too." Izuku laughed, carefully placing two new pads over Shouto's eyes. "There's a gingko right next to your window. It looks ancient and supernatural." "You have horrible description skills," Shouto remarked, sitting straighter so Izuku could wound the gauze around the back of his head. Izuku barked out a laugh. Shouto was very straightforward. "Literature was never my strong suit. Should I continue or leave your imagination to do the rest?" "You're doing better than I ever could. Please continue.” Shouto made a vague ‘go-ahead’ gesture. “Tell me more about the gingko." "Tall, regal, beautiful and absolutely ancient." Izuku racked his brain for all the adjectives but there was only so many he could find that fit the description he was going for. "There's a small shrine at the base of it. Painted red. You can feel the oldness coming from this tree. We have a tale here. That every moonless night, the spirit of Inari appears and runs around the temple four times before disappearing. And in the morning after, a sprig of wheat, golden and blessed can always be seen from afar. But when someone comes closer to pick it up, it disappears. My mentor says that means that this land is protected." Izuku ended his story by clipping off the excess gauze and securing the end to another part of the wrap with a strip of tape. Shouto's breathing had slowed down, rhythmic. He was fast asleep. As quietly as possible, Izuku gathered his equipment and walked over to the door. He should have woken Shouto up so that he moved to the bed and could have a better sleep position, but he didn't want to disturb him. However, apparently Shouto wasn't as fast asleep as Izuku thought he was, for he suddenly spoke when Izuku was sliding the door open, badly startled him. "You will come — " the tray and scissors clattered to the ground with resounding clang, " —  back later?" There was a note of something there, a tinge of hopefulness shrouded under a curtain of nonchalance. Izuku bent over to gather his stuff. "Yes, of course I will." His cheeks felt incredibly hot the moment he said that and Shouto’s happy smile didn’t help cooling them down. 

Lunch was a slow and careful business for Shouto, but he managed without making a huge mess.

They were outside in the courtyard, under the shade of clustered bamboos "I like this sound." Shouto lifted his head to the sky, placing his chopsticks down on the table. Izuku guided his hand to where the chopsticks rest was. "Easy to fall asleep to." "That, it is," Izuku agreed, closing his eyes. The wind picked up, carrying with it a briny smell from the sea and running through the tightly packed leaves. High and low notes echoed against the rumbling background of waves crashing onto the shore, a natural orchestra. "How are things up in the sky?" Shouto murmured. Izuku peeked open one eye, leaning to the left to avoid the sun in his eyes. "Blue. The truest of blue. And fluffy large clouds like cotton candy." "Clouds can be pink?" Izuku shook his head and realized Shouto couldn't see him. "No," he said. "White. Like rice." "There are white cotton candies," Shouto breathed softly. And if Izuku allowed himself to be truthful, the statement was one of wonder too. Izuku made an affirmative voice at the back of his throat. And there was silence between them. But only for a minute before Shouto broke it tentatively. "What does cotton candy taste like?" The hesitation in his question was as clear as day. It was a strange question to ask. Izuku glanced at Shouto from the corner of his eye. He was biting his lips and circling his thumb on the table. A nervous move. Even though Shouto couldn't see, Izuku turned away, thinking hard to the last time he had cotton candy. "Sweeter than sugar and very sticky." The last time he had cotton candy was at a festival, years and years ago. "It melts in your mouth. If you could eat cloud, the texture would be just like cotton candy." "Fascinating," Shouto said appreciatively, then sighed. "I would love to try cotton candy one day." The feather of strangeness tickled the back of his mind at Shouto's simple wish. As far as Izuku knew, cotton candy was a part of everyone's childhood. Shouto’s statement strummed his curiosity fibers. He filed it away for later study and focused back on the conversation. He could potentially help Shouto fulfill that wish if the festival he was thinking about was happening tonight. He pulled out his phone and pulled up the calendar. Strike! "The midsummer festival is happening tonight downtown." He smiled to himself, scrolling through the event agenda. The stalls would be open until late at night. They would have plenty of time to stroll around looking for cotton candy. "I guess it's high time you tried cotton candy." The happy grin Shouto shot in his direction set Izuku's brain on fire. "Sounds like the date."

Izuku should have thought twice about taking Shouto, a public figure loved and admired by everyone, out onto the street. Then again, the past few hours he’d spent with Shouto just somehow made him more human, more real than the figure Izuku read and admired through press and interview. And somehow Izuku forgot that the rest of the world didn’t get to know Shouto the way that he did.

The moment they set foot inside the premise of the festival filled with bustling people and noise, Izuku realized his mistake. Shouto stood out in the self assured way he hold himself, the air he surrounded himself with, and the most important thing, his glaring telltale half-white-half-red hair. Before anyone could look twice at them and make the connection between Shouto and the Hero Shouto, Izuku thrown his jacket over Shouto’s head and led them away.

“Izuku?” Shouto questioned, startled, but didn’t fight against Izuku’s pull. “What’s going on? Where are we going?”

“Just some minor issues.” Izuku made a sharp left into a darkened alleyway when he spotted a group of girls heading their way from afar. He managed a smile when Shouto looked at him with lips turning downward in a frown. “Don’t worry, we will get the cotton candies in no time. I just need to figure out a, uhm, disguise.”

Shouto’s mouth parted opened. “Is it my hair?” He removed Izuku’s jacket from his head and subconsciously smoothed a hand over his hair.

"Sorry," Izuku apologized immediately. He hated seeing uncertainty on Shouto. "I forgot to think up disguises before."

"Don’t be. The fault is mine," Shouto said, draping Izuku’s jacket over his forearm. "I should have thought about this too."

A part of Izuku wanted to take all the fault onto himself, but he knew if he did just that, Shouto would get the fault back and they would end up in a never-ending tennis match of taking blame.

"We're both at fault." Izuku compromised, tapping a finger on his chin.

This didn't start off as well as Izuku had imagined, but he couldn't let that ruin the night. He was on a mission here. Shouto would need a something to cover his hair, the most distinct feature on him. A hat, maybe? Izuku couldn’t remember if he had a cap somewhere in the employee room in the hospital. And the hospital was close enough that he could make a round trip in 20 minutes if he ran.   

"You still there, Izuku?" Shouto's inquiry interrupted his train of thought, a note of uncertainty and fragility. He sounded... afraid.

Izuku cursed himself in his head. Shouto couldn't very well see right now.

"Yes, I'm still here." He took Shouto's hand in his and intertwined their fingers together. "I'm right here."

Shouto nodded tersely, but didn't say anything. He merely tightened his hold on Izuku's fingers. Izuku looked out into the street. A merchant was pushing her cart of handcrafted masks nearby. Then suddenly, an idea sparked itself into existence. A traditional mask would do the trick better than a hat could. Masks would blend right in with the festive crowd.

"Shouto," Izuku said, wrapping his other hand around Shouto's, "I'll go get a disguise. Count backwards from 25 to 1, I'll be back before you know it. I'll never abandon you."

He didn't think Shouto would agree, with how hard he was biting down on his lips. Having a sense robbed was not a pleasant experience. Izuku was all for Shouto to disagree and they would walk back to the hospital and have tea under the starry sky while Izuku practiced his poetic skills and wax heartfelt lines about the beauty of the moon. But Shouto nodded, hesitantly and fearfully, and started counting down.

"25, 24—”

"I'll be back before you know it."

Izuku unlatched his hand from Shouto's loosened hold and took off. He had never run so fast in his life. He caught up to the merchant, picked the two closest masks, and paid. He didn't even bother counting his change before he was sprinting back into the dark alleyway where Shouto was waiting, counting.

"7, 6, 5—"

"Back." Izuku bent down, hands on his knees, and breathed harshly. His heart was beating to the point his chest hurt. He looked up at Shouto, who was already smiling softly. In a corner of his mind, he noted that Shouto had smiled more during his short hours with Izuku than all the time he saw Shouto appear on interviews. "Told you I would be back in no time."

"I had full trust in you." Shouto whispered, completely at ease and peacefully.

It was ironic that both the masks Izuku picked were fox masks with a red and white color scheme. But as long as they did the job of concealing Shouto’s presence to the crowd, Izuku was not going to complain. With at most care, he slid one mask over Shouto's face and tied the bow at the back of his head to secure it. While Shouto was busy adjusting his to his preference, Izuku slid the other one on the side of his head. He rationed that if they went as a pair, less people would think of Shouto as Hero Shouto. He silently took hold of Shouto's hanging hand, again locking their fingers together.

“Are we good for cotton candy now?” Shouto’s voice, muffled through the mask, was filled with child-like excitement.

Izuku laughed, leading them out of the dark alleyway and into the bubbly crowd heading towards the night festival.

“Yes, we are very ready for cotton candy.”

[intothehoid]

Ok, so I'm not gonna lie. I don't entirely remember the exact order of the days I spent in Beijing. My grasp of linear time is not always the best, so this part might get a little mushy.

The whole point of our time in Beijing was twofold. Most importantly, we had orientation. Now, it's worth mentioning that this program gave a LOT of freedom to its participants. At least, compared to other programs. There were restrictions. They had a no alcohol, no drugs, no dating policy (the first because it is VERY illegal in China. All sorts of BIG TROUBLE. The latter two largely because they'd allowed them before and things got messy and unfortunate and uncomfortable). But the other programs I had looked into were far more restrictive. There was one program that would send me to Russia that I had actually committed to - to the point of submitting a $300 non-refundable deposit - and only found out after I signed the contract that they didn't allow their volunteers to go ANYWHERE alone. At all. I would go nuts. In the end, the final factor was financial. China cost $1300 and Russia would have cost $2500. But the whole not being able to go anywhere (like not even in your neighborhood) alone was a significant factor. China actually ended up costing even less, but I'll get to that. The second purpose of our time in Beijing was as a tour of the capitol!

Anyways, this all goes to say that orientation was not quite as... intense as I thought it would be. The entire teaching structure was not nearly as, well, structured. Orientation mostly consisted of getting ideas for games and teaching exercises from each other and thinking about how to react in different scenarios. There were also some cultural differences that were explained (such as, it's not necessarily appropriate for students to visit teachers at their apartments, depending on the situation, people WILL take pictures of you, DO NOT DRINK THE TAP WATER, DO NOT FLUSH THE TOILET PAPER, etc.). I'll admit, I was worried. The majority of the teachers in our program were teaching in kindergartens and grade schools. I was teaching at a high school so I was worried that the games and the fun things wouldn't be enough, but I decided I would just plan more things later when I was settled into my new home. Orientation was fun and I got to meet some really cool people and that's basically all you really need to know about that.

Now, onto the good part. Cavorting about Beijing!

Ok, one of the first tourist things we did after running around at night was go to the Summer Palace. Contrary to the name, it did not defy the wintery weather and bring warmth. It was still freezing. So much so that the moat was entirely frozen over and a whole host of people were sledding on the ice. Less people were ice skating, but there were still some. It was pretty expensive to rent a sled so I declined. It had been several years since this moat had frozen over enough to skate on so it was very popular. Also, thinking back on it, it probably wasn't nearly as expensive as I thought it was back then. I hadn't gotten a good grasp of how Chinese yuan converted to US dollars, so I probably should have gone for the skating thing, but I guess you live, you learn.

This trip was a momentous occasion for me! It was the first time I had used a squatty potty. It was a bit daunting. I was kind of nervous (mostly because everyone else seemed so nervous about it). The bathroom smelled typical of a Chinese public restroom. That is, nasty with a thin veil of incense. Don't get me wrong. I think that most of them were cleaned fairly regularly. They just smelled bad. Worse than your typical public American restroom. Some public restrooms were outright nasty and others were like entering the worst porta-potty you've ever encountered only worse. One time, I went to pee in a bathroom that was just barely bigger than myself in the back of a restaurant right next to the small, odd-shaped basin where they kept the live fish for cooking. It was an experience. I love China.

It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Honestly. It was much easier to use the squatty potty than I thought and I didn't understand the people who continued to complain excessively. Maybe squatting to go pee just came more naturally to me. Eheheheh... (PSST! The secret if you’re worried about your clothes is to hold them out of the way. Also you have to learn how to squat down with both feet flat on the floor. It’s both a great stretch and if you do it right you can balance squatting down for a long time… both in the bathroom and just anywhere you want to rest and don’t have a seat. In the West/America (My realm of experience is limited to China, Thailand and America, ok!) we generally squat up on the balls of our feet and it’s both harder to balance and more tiring on your muscles. Seriously, guys! Learn how to squat on flat feet, it’s miraculous and life-saving!)

Anyways, the Summer Palace! It was my first close contact with old imperial Chinese architecture. I think, on the first night, I saw one of the old guard towers near Tiananmen Square, but that was from afar. Here I was, walking through centuries old buildings with some of the most intricate detailing I'd ever come across. We went through the front gate. It was very ornate! Very lovely! There were old, worn statues outside and the colors on the gate were beautiful. Then we went inside. This is where I saw the moat and the infamous bathrooms. Then we went across a bridge. The old style Chinese bridges are beautiful. They're made of stone (a LOT of things are made with stone in China. I think it's because there's a lot of stone that's relatively easy to quarry. Even with modern things, a lot of the embellishments will be made of stone styled after traditional designs. Clouds are a very popular design.) and have those big circular cut-out bottoms. This one was different, but still stone and still pretty. There were a bunch of small buildings surrounding the moat. I found out in retrospect this is called Suzhou Street. This is funny because Suzhou is a city down South in the Shanghai area named Suzhou that is really famous for silks and for ancient water towns. Basically, old one-two story, tightly packed towns with canals instead of streets. AKA Venice of China. So, my guess is this street is called Suzhou street because there were old, one-two story buildings surrounding a 'street' of water. From there, we went the Site of Sumeru Temple.

Please keep in mind, I knew very few of these names when I was there. Maps were a little... Hit or miss (another common theme). I also have forgotten many of these names because it's been almost two years since I was there. So I'm doing some research to supplement my names and such.

I wish I could do justice to the architecture with words. I'll include some of the few pictures I managed to post before the computer incident. It was a bit magical. The Site of Sumeru Temple was fronted by a wide courtyard. The temple was raised and two staircases paralleled the foundation it was raised on and formed a sort of triangle leading up to the temple. There were a couple of towers off to the sides of temple. The temple was largely red, white, and yellow (red and white walls, yellow roofs). I remember that the inside of the temple was cool, but apparently not that memorable because I don't really remember it. Oops. But after that we went to the Hall of Buddhist Tenets and that was amazing! (Upon further research, I'm not sure if this building was called the Hall of Buddhist Tenets or the Sea of Wisdom. Like I said, maps were... iffy.)

The inside was cool, but the outside was amazing! It was mostly a deep golden yellow, but inset in emerald green indentations were hundreds upon hundreds of approximately head-sized golden-yellow Buddhas! They were beautiful! I got some really cool pictures sitting up in this large white stone window frame set into the side of the building, but they were lost. (Looks nostalgically into the sunsets whilst inwardly swearing like a sailor at my hard drive... Seriously, I'm still not over this guys.) But there were these little Buddhas just covering the entire building and they were beautiful! Intricate and there were just so many of them!

After that the group I had kind of adopted wandered a bit up and down the walkways. There were some courtyards and cool walls. I remember we went to the back of the Hall of Buddhist Tenets and were exploring the backside. We took some more pictures there and explored some of the nooks and crannies of the building.

The Temple of Buddhist Virtue is one of the crowning pieces of the Summer Palace (that's like saying it's one of the shiny marbles in an entire bucketful. There were a lot of awesome things!) It's a large, rounded pagoda that rises up from a hill overlooking the large lake that borders the palace. It's actually more hexagonal, but those are details. Details. One of my favorite things about Chinese imperial architecture are the details. They're immaculate. Carved wooden designs and three dimensional patterns colored in red, emerald, cobalt blue, gold, and accents of white intertwining around small murals painted in exquisite color.

For some reason we decided not to go into the Temple. It might have been closed, but it didn't really matter because it was stunning from the outside.

We went down the hill to some of the lower portions. There were a lot more people there! It was a cool area. More walls there and it felt more like an... official complex as opposed to a park. The upper area felt more like a park. It was also beautiful and wondrous, just a different feel.

We didn't spend as much time there, so I don't remember as much. The one thing I remember more than any of the lower area is the view of the lake. We got an amazing view of the lake from above.

It was winter so the days were shorter. Even though it was still fairly early the sun was hanging low over the horizon and kissing the world with a red-golden light. Earlier I mentioned that we caught the tail end of Spring Festival. This was such a gift! Not nearly as many of the factories were up and running because people were on holiday so the air was much clearer than it might be at other times of the year! It wasn't consistently clear, but WOW! We got some beautiful days! This was no exception! There were some clouds and haze on the horizon, but - I'm gonna level with you real hard - when there was just a smidge of smog/haze in the air it made the sunsets radiant! Ok, have any of you grown up in an area that gets summer fires? I do, I'm from western Oregon. Lots of trees. Dry summers. Things burn. It's an unfortunately beautiful side effect of such destruction, but the sunsets are beautiful gold and red and the sun turns into a brilliant glowing red ball in the smoke. The air drips with color and saturated light weaves itself through the buildings and trees coloring everything!

It was a bit like this. Not quite as red this afternoon, but the gold of the setting sun was effusive!

A large part of the lake was frozen over as well closer to the shore, but enough of the lake was unfrozen enough for the boats to be out. On the frozen part of the lake, where the ice sparkled in the sunlight, dozens of people were skating and sledding on the ice. The sunlight illuminated the vast spread of the Summer Palace. There was so much that we didn't get to explore.

When I go back to China I would like to go back to some of the places I'd gone during orientation and honestly, spend far more time in these places. I don't know if I'll get a day as overwhelmingly lovely as this was, but I want to see all of the many, many things I missed. This view was breathtaking, both in its beauty and in the array of buildings in the palace area that we didn't get to visit. It's massive. We were there for several hours and I don't think we saw half of it.

After coming up from the lower area (heading back because we were beginning to need to find our meeting place) I ended up with a different group. Not gonna lie, not entirely sure how that happened. Eheheheh.... But they were fun! We decided to visit a couple more places in the palace and make a sort of round about way towards our original entrance because we had more time than we thought.

Our path came to a river and followed it. It was amazing! At first, it started out as just a bit of frozen water in a river-shaped dent in the ground. Then more ice began to appear. Then giants chunks of ice and suddenly, we were walking next to a river that wasn't really a river. It was a river that had been utterly frozen solid and then split into massive pieces of ice with the bottom of river rocks running in between. The river did this delightful thing where there were shelves of ice clinging to the cut stones of the walkway as the very edge. There was a drop of several feet before the frozen ice resumed. It was fascinating!

I loved this part (and not just because I loved the entire thing). We had inadvertently taken a route that found some of the less well-kempt parts of the palace complex. There were the areas tourists didn't normally go. Or maybe they did and they were kept less restored as a reminder.

Regardless of why they were less cared for, it was a bit haunting. In a very enchanting kind of way. I had just been utterly dazzled by this amazing series of perfectly restored architecture on an imperial scale. I had been delightfully bombarded by designs hundreds of years old simultaneously looked hundreds of years old and as if they had been created last week. I had seen buildings older than anything I had ever seen before and everything was fresh and impeccably restored.

And then the illusion faded.

I gradually found myself in a world where time hadn't been recaptured. Instead it was observed through a scratched lens. You could see the grandeur that used to be, but there were imperfections. The paint wasn't as vibrant, in some places it was peeling, in some places it was gone altogether and the wood beneath lay bare to the winter air. It was the same style and the designs were similar if not the same, but it was faded. There weren't as many decorations and these areas were far less colorful. It was magical.

The other areas were like stepping back in time to the moment when these buildings were still alive. This was walking through a half-gone memory. It was a step back in time, but seen through the view of the forgotten places and the spaces that don't shine. Ethereal. Somber. It was like walking through a held breath.

We approached the entrance from the side by the river where people were still skating and walked up behind the wooden buildings bordering the river and across the stone bridge. And that was the Summer Palace.

[mwcowan]

Mark & Georgia’s 2018 Philippines Trip

Here we go again, another trip, another blog. For those of you familiar with our recent Road Trip blog this will be of a different sort because it’s going to be a different sort of trip, a mix of business and pleasure. We’ll be based at Georgia’s mom’s house in Manila, making a series of short trips here and there over the next month. Hopefully it will result in some interesting thoughts and photos.

Day 1:  Graeagle to Sunnyvale to San Jose to SFO

Seems like I was driving all day, although it was a pleasant drive until I got close to the Bay Area into all the traffic. I’ve really gotten used to the “traffic” in Graeagle, where it’s unusual to see more than 3 cars in town. At Georgia’s suggestion I drove straight to EBR for a visit with my old colleagues and to check up on how things are going there. Quite well it seems, with a number of development projects underway, what we engineers like. But everyone seems to be really stressed with all the clinical and regulatory related tasks on their plates now. That’s what I knew would be coming with the US clinical trial, and I’m even more certain I picked the right time to retire.

Took an hour in that lovely traffic to drive from EBR to Georgia’s sister Dinah’s house (all of 12-13 miles) and another hour to drive to SJC and back for Georgia to return her rental car (she had flown there last week). An hour to pack Georgia’s stuff and back on the road to SFO. In our Road Trip blog it was noted that Georgia has trouble packing light and this trip is no exception.

The box weights 69.5 pounds (carefully titrated as the airline limit is 70), the black suitcase is about 55 pounds, the red carry-on is acceptably light. Not shown is a backpack. Yes she has problems packing light. OK, to give her a break, since we’ll be in Manila on Thanksgiving, the box contains a frozen turkey, ham, and all the fixings for a proper Thanksgiving dinner, things that you can’t get in the Philippines. Plus a LOT of other goodies for her mom, our snorkel gear, etc..  She got her standby cleared quickly, got her ‘luggage’ checked with a few stares from the baggage handlers, and was soon off to her flight to Hong Kong.

With my flight to Tokyo in the morning, I overnighted at an inexpensive motel near SFO,  one that turned out to be unexpectedly nice. At least I wasn’t itching in the morning.

In case you don’t know, in the interest of national security we don’t fly together. That’s not really it… Georgia flies Cathay Pacific since she gets family privileges from her sister Vinee, a CP flight attendant. Georgia pays a ridiculously low fare for business class. I fly United since I spent so much time with my butt in their seats for business travel I can buy the cheapest economy fare and use my miles to upgrade.

Day 2: SFO to Hong Kong (Georgia) and Tokyo (Mark)

Both of us had very bumpy flights, on mine the seat belt sign was on most of the time, and the flight attendants were told to buckle up multiple times. Didn’t stop me from eating and drinking my way across the Pacific though; I arrived in Tokyo fully stuffed. Georgia reports the same on arrival to HK.

Flying in the front of the plane is the only way to go; I fear the day when my miles run out. Georgia may have to take a job with an airline so I can get family privileges. Anyway, she’s continuing on to Manila this afternoon while I’m overnighting in Tokyo at another airport hotel and flying on to Manila tomorrow morning. The flight with a 19-hour layover is a lot cheaper than one with a short connection, saving much more than the cost of a hotel. That’s a good enough reason but I admit to being a travel wuss, I like having this break to get cleaned up and rested. No reason to hurry!

Day 3: Tokyo to Manila

Easy travel day to Manila for Mark; couldn’t sleep so got up early and went to the airport (a 2 min walk from my hotel) and had breakfast at the nice ANA lounge. Smooth flight to Manila but with the usual holding pattern on arrival. I’ve never flown into that airport without doing at least a few circles. I think the airport planners are the same people who planned the traffic control in Manila.

Speaking of Manila traffic, shortly after I arrived we needed to drive Georgia’s mom to meet with the family attorney to have some documents notarized. Off we went to Alabang, one of Manila’s districts, with Mark driving and only a vague idea of where we were going… after many calls to the attorney we finally decided we’d never find the meeting spot and just parked and told him where we were. He knew the area well and was able to find us. By the time we headed back home it was dark, which makes driving in Manila even more terrifying. People all over the place, motorcycles, trikes, and jeepneys pulling in and out and stopping wherever and whenever. Feels like you’re inside a video game. Luckily we got home before we ran out of lives; Mark quickly headed to the fridge to grab a much-needed San Mig.

Sorry for not having more pictures, but there havn’t been many photo opportunities up to this point. Things will pick up in a day or two.

Day 4: Manila to Tacloban

A couple errands this morning then back to the house to pack our bags for a 3-night trip (nice light luggage this time!) then to the airport for a quick flight to Tacloban on Leyte island. A couple days of business to conduct here and in Catbalogan on the nearby island of Samar. You probably remember Tacloban from the 2013 super-typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda in the Philippines). Tacloban was the center of devastation from this storm. The city was all but destroyed; nearly 6000 perished in this city alone. Flying in we could see one of the reasons the storm wreaked such havoc – the city and territory surrounding it are very level and low-lying, stretching flat many miles until the mountains are reached. Besides the winds which removed nearly every roof in the city, storm surges of up to 20 feet did the most damage, including completely leveling the airport we flew into. We didn’t know what to expect, but were pleased to see a strongly recovering city and meet a few people whose strength, determination, and pride are readily apparent. There are still a few reminders of the storm, we saw 4 or 5 abandoned, gutted, roofless buildings, but almost all traces are gone and the city has been rebuilt, at least on the roads we passed.

In a striking contrast to Manila, traffic here is very civilized. Our taxi driver actually stopped and let another car enter a roundabout before him! To regress a bit and explain Manila traffic, in the US we drive (most of us at least) by the lines on the road and by rules where for every situation the right of way is defined. Right of way in Manila is determined by which car can squeeze a millimeter in front of the other. Georgia has remarked that it’s a great waste by the government painting lines on the roads as no attention whatsoever is paid to the lines, the number of lanes being defined by the number of cars, trucks, and motorcycles that can possibly squeeze side to side within, and often beyond, the edges of the roadway. It can seem like total chaos, but carnage and catastrophic accidents are minimal as traffic speeds using these principles are generally reduced to a crawl.  Vendors in flipflops can walk in between and around cars without fear of being run over as they can move faster than the cars can.  It surprisingly works as long as you’re in no hurry to get somewhere.

A side note... if you like a glass of wine or two, finding it can be challenging as the Philippines is not at all a wine-drinking nation. Interestingly enough, grape cultivation and winemaking were brought to California by the Spanish Catholic priests and followed the path of the missions. Yet with 300 years of Philippine colonization by the Spanish, grape growing appears to have been unsuccessful here and wine can be difficult to find.

Normally we don’t worry about it and settle for a cold San Miguel. This evening Georgia was craving a glass before dinner so we asked at the hotel desk where we could find a bar or restaurant that could help us get a fix, and we were pointed to a place across the street.  Georgia was excited when the menu had a small wine list, including two Cabernets and a Merlot. She asked for one of the Cabernets; the waitress said she had to go check if they had it. She came back shortly and apologized, saying they were out of that wine. Georgia asked for the other Cabernet. Sorry we’re out of that one too. OK, what about the Merlot? Sorry ma’am, we’re out of the Merlot too. Do you have any wines? No ma’am, we’re out of all wines. Amusing to us at least as this is a recurring story – we’ve even seen nice restaurants in large hotels in Manila, with impressive wine lists, unable to produce anything but a Barefoot Bynum red. Maybe Georgia goes to work for an airline, and Mark starts a wine import business. We finally got a lead for a nice Italian restaurant, which had a good selection of Italian wines. An excellent dinner and Georgia finally got her wine! Another thing you wouldn’t expect here is great Italian food – we both feel that we’ve found some of the best outside of Italy, in restaurants started by Italian ex-pats who have been captured by Filipina wives (or vice-versa)! I can understand that. 😊

Day 5:  Tacloban to Catbalogan

This morning’s business was a meeting with the local head of the Philippines Land Bank. This is a government-chartered organization obtaining land and re-selling to farmers. The income from the farmer’s loans funds the acquisition of property. The subject transactions here are about 165 hectares (400+ acres) of family-owned property in Catbalogan, much of which has been settled on by squatters/farmers. This is the type of land the Land Bank is trying to get, to officially distribute to the squatters and make them legal taxpayers. The family has been trying for many years to deed the property over and receive payment. Many frustrating years, always being told that this document or the other is needed; when that’s produced there’s always another. And then the next time they go back, the official they were working with isn’t there any more and no one has any recollection of previous actions.

The meeting went well, it seems that the government is making an effort to centralize and simplify these things, for example going forward this can be handled through the office in Manila rather than having to travel to Tacloban. According to the official very little is left to do before this can be completed. Georgia warns that we shouldn’t count on this assurance yet.

Now we’re tourists for the afternoon – our driver picks us up from the Land Bank and we head towards Catbalogan. We’d hired a driver and car for the day to take us around on our errands and then deliver us to Catbalogan, about 110 km from Tacloban. On the way he drove us through one of the areas hardest hit by the typhoon, a low-lying seaside area of shanty homes. You may remember seeing post-typhoon pictures of a large freighter sitting on land quite a way from the water – rather than removing the whole thing they left it in place, some 300 meters from the water, built some structure around it and turned it into a memorial for the Typhoon victims. Strange to see a freighter in the neighborhood but a fitting tribute.

The disturbing part of it though is the neighborhood. The whole area was completely swept bare, but it’s been rebuilt as it was, with poorly constructed shacks of wood and tin. That’s how the people lived before, and what they know, but it’s a shame that the government didn’t help relocate them or at least build more substantial homes.

We drive over the San Juanico bridge which links Leyte and Samar islands, the longest bridge in the Philippines, built during the Marcos regime. Current president Duterte plans to build a longer one (mine’s longer than yours!) linking Luzon to Visayas but it hasn’t been built yet. Following the bridge is a winding 2-hour drive up the mountains and back down into Catbalogan.

Catbalogan is a city “in the provinces”. I’d heard that term before but wasn’t sure what Filipinos were referring to – the meaning is similar but more polite sounding than our euphemism “out in the boonies”. It’s a busy city, but very remote and without many of the amenities you find in the larger cities. We’re booked at the most expensive hotel in town: a “deluxe triple room” with private bath is $34/night. The room is cozy with a double and a single bed and not much space to move around, but the hotel is spotlessly clean, due we think to the army of OJT (on-job-training) helpers from a local high school. At least 20 of these always-smiling faces are constantly cleaning and re-cleaning, each one stopping to give us a warm greeting whenever we appear, coming or going.

To me, Catbalogan is the “city of trikes”. Manila has a lot of trikes, but this city is totally clogged with them, and they’re all in (slow) motion all the time. Both motor- and human-powered, passenger trikes and delivery, they’re everywhere. Colorful, each has been customized by its owner, with the owner’s name and often a favorite bible verse or a personal testament to the glory of God emblazoned on front or back. Some busses and delivery trucks are also on the streets, but few private cars. Why would you need one? A noisy and bumpy ride on a motor trike costs 8 pesos (about 15 cents) to take you anywhere in the city. The pedal trikes are the economy ride, only 7 pesos. We go first class!

You can play a quick video of a trike ride in Catbalogan here:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/3SMSh43GFNhmnvf79

Day 6:  Catbalogan

Business day #2 with visits to the Registry of Deeds (task is to get the deed to the property annotated with the names of the new settlers), then to the Department of Agrarian Reform (task unknown). Conference with Georgia’s sister in the US and back to the DAR to ask for a map of the new property division. Both the ROD and DAR have promised to have the documents ready tomorrow morning so back we’ll go.

While here in Catbalogan we’ve been “taken care of” by a family that is linked to Georgia’s by a long friendship. Third-generation daughter Bayan has been helpful getting us to the various appointments; today we met Lola (grandmother) Noling, the family matriarch, at her electronics and appliance store she’s been running for 65 years. She’s 87 and going strong, no hurry to retire. We were chatting in the store and asked if they knew a place that had good Tomalos – a Filipino take on the tamale with rice “masa” around a pork filling, coated with peanut butter, then wrapped in banana leaf and steamed. With typical Filipino hospitality, it seemed only minutes before table and chairs were pulled out and Tamalos and Lumpia appeared for us to try. Different, delicious, and RICH! Georgia and I couldn’t quite finish a whole one. And also in true Filipino fashion just as we were putting our forks down we were asked what we’d like for lunch. Oh jeez, didn’t we just finish lunch? Lola Noling definitely wanted to take us out so we agreed to dinner, we’ll meet her at the store around closing time.

Dinner was at a nice restaurant right on the harbor, with Lola Noling, daughter Collette (Bayan’s mom), two of her sons Bong and Jun, Bayan, and a few more family members. A feast of delicious food, more than enough beer, hilarious conversation with her sons trying to speak English and me trying to understand Taglish – it was one of those amazing times that leaves you with a smile, a warm heart, and a new family.

Day 7:  Catbalogan to Tacloban to Manila

Georgia thinks I’m writing too much. Maybe I’m trying to find things to write about in the absence of any real interesting travel. I’ll keep it short today.

Two more appointments this morning. First back at the DAR to pick up maps of the property. This visit was successful. Then an appointment at the Registry of Deeds to meet with the registrar whom Georgia had an appointment with yesterday but she wasn’t in the office. She was most helpful (not) explaining the number of documents that still needed to be completed and 2 new cities we would have to visit to get this done. One step forward, 2 back.

We took a shared ride van back to Tacloban, through rain most of the way. The highlight of the day was a 30 minute trike ride from the van terminal to the airport, in the rain. Remember, these things don’t have doors – Mark held an umbrella out as a door/windshield and managed to stay pretty dry. His luggage tied to the back of the trike didn’t fare quite as well.

Day 8:  Manila to Nasugbu

Finally! Today we made the 2 ½ hour drive from Manila to Nasugbu, the location of Kawayan Cove and our house-to-be. This is the third time we’ve made this drive ourselves (no driver) and it’s starting to seem familiar, at least when we get out of Manila and onto the Cavite Expressway heading south. Today I got very much the same feeling as when I drive from the Bay Area to Graeagle, with lots of traffic and the associated stress until we reach Auburn, about halfway there. After that it’s an enjoyable drive through the mountains and pine forests the rest of the way. This was very similar – through Manila, Cavite, all the way to Naic it’s a lot of traffic and those ever-annoying trikes. Past Naic you enter the mountains, tropical jungle rather than pine trees, and all the traffic, trikes, and stress disappear. Finally we get our first view of the Batangas coast, and get that peaceful feeling that we’re getting close to home.

We’re staying for three nights at Punta Fuego, a members-only golf and residential club just up the coast from Kawayan Cove. Luckily one of Georgia’s brother-in-law’s parents are members here and can make reservations for us at one of the club’s guest “casitas”.

Lovely place with a lot of different beaches and nice amenities – we looked at properties here but as this is one of the older developments along this coast all of the better lots are already taken, and we had our hearts set on an ocean view. Not to mention the prices, and the monthly dues, and all that…

Tomorrow we get to see our house for the first time!

[un-enfant-immature]

Kiddom grabs early revenue amid $35M Series C funding

Kiddom, a platform that offers a digital curriculum that fits the core standards required by states, announced today that it has raised a $35 million Series C round led by Altos Ventures, with participation from Owl Ventures, Khosla Ventures and Outcomes Collective. The financing came nearly three years after Kiddom’s Series B, a $15 million round led by Owl.

The startup didn’t just raise money, it finally learned how to make some. Founded in 2012, Kiddom was able to raise millions without revenue or a clear business model. But Ahsan Rizvi, CEO and co-founder of Kiddom, and Abbas Manjee, chief academic officer and co-founder of Kiddom, think an early focus on adoption instead of monetization was necessary.

“At our Series B, we were definitely not making money,” Manjee said. “But we have a free product that teachers and students use, and the idea was to build an enterprise product on top of it.” It’s a common strategy with bottom up sales. For example, ClassDojo prioritized adoption for years before it finally introduced a paying version of its classroom socialization product.

ClassDojo’s second act comes with first profits

Kiddom poured most of its capital into research and development into its enterprise product. It has two parts. First, it offers a platform that helps schools integrate all of their different platforms into an interface that tracks student utilization and achievement. Second, it offers that platform alongside the product it’s built up for years, a digital curriculum that fits in with Common Core, a set of math and English academic standards that students are required to learn on a grade by grade level. The latter is perhaps the hardest sell for Kiddom, but also the most lucrative.

Manjee explained vendor approval processes across the States can take a long time, and the stakes are high since decision-makers will only turn to a handful of vendors when it comes to meeting core standards.

A lot of Kiddom’s success depends on if traditional curriculum providers, like the Pearsons and McGraw-Hills of the world, don’t catch up to the digitization of education. Rizvi explained that older companies are “losing market share rapidly” right now. Last year, McGraw-Hill and Cengage terminated a proposed merger that would’ve added some fresh competition to the curriculum world.

The product has resonated with some users. While Kiddom declined to give specifics, it said that new ARR growth grew 2,525% its first year. In 2020 to 2021, ARR growth is on track to be 300%. It said that at least one teacher uses its product in 70% of schools in the United States, a metric that has remained consistent since 2018.

Kiddom’s fresh funding and revenue shows that its years of product development have kept it competitive in the eyes of investors, synergistic unicorns and the stingiest enterprise customer of them all, school districts.

Duolingo’s IPO pricing is great news for edtech startups

[your-dietician]

Nearly 200 years ago, the lectures of a celebrity vegetarian visiting Portland caused a riot

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/celebrities/nearly-200-years-ago-the-lectures-of-a-celebrity-vegetarian-visiting-portland-caused-a-riot/

Nearly 200 years ago, the lectures of a celebrity vegetarian visiting Portland caused a riot

People across the United States were abuzz with talk of the Portland Graham riot in the summer of 1834, a time when vegetarian ideas were in vogue locally. The “Agitation,” as headlines in Boston, Philadelphia and Albany called it, was a violent mob that attacked the Temple Street Chapel, where celebrity vegetarian lecturer Sylvester Graham was giving his popular course on the “Science of Human Life.” Newspapers here and across the country had much to say about the riot but were left to wonder at its cause.

Was it Graham’s advice to eat whole wheat bread and skip animal-based foods? Or was it something else, something unprintable?

Curiously, few if any Maine historians have examined the riot. However, scholars in other disciplines have explored its causes and implications, while historical news reports reveal fascinating details. Graham’s 1834 visit to Maine exposes widespread sympathy for vegetarianism in Portland and Brunswick, reveals the launch of Maine’s first commercial health food products and highlights local women’s rights concerns.

The Boston Saturday Morning Transcript’s July 5, 1834 newspaper printed a letter from a Portland correspondent who reported that Graham’s “private lectures to married ladies have caused so much excitement that he will probably be unable to continue his course of essays on diet. A mob broke up his lecture last evening, and made some considerable disturbance.”

When celebrity vegetarian Sylvester Graham delivered his popular lecture series in Portland in June 1834, a group of “almost crazy” men attacked the church where he was speaking to stop him from conveying his radical message. Courtesy of Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division

By the summer of 1834, Graham had been delivering his food reform lectures across the Northeast for years. “An impassioned speaker, Graham attracted large audiences, and the crusading minister became an overnight sensation,” Andrew F. Smith, who teaches food studies at the New School in New York, wrote in “Eating History.”

Graham began his Portland lectures on June 5 and continued throughout the month.

Last year, I wrote about Rev. Henry Aiken Worcester who, after attending Graham’s Portland lectures, penned a letter remarking on the widespread adoption of Graham’s principles in Portland, including among the city’s doctors. Since then, Wheaton College history professor Jonathan D. Riddle informed me of a July 22, 1834 letter signed by nine members of the Portland Medical Association giving their full support to Graham’s “diet and general regimen.” The letter from the Maine doctors was reprinted in newspapers and appeared in Graham’s 1835 “A Defence of the Graham System of Living.”

The month before giving his course in Portland, Graham delivered the same lectures at Brunswick’s Congregational Church, where the lecture series was chaired by none other than Maine’s sitting Governor Robert Dunlap, a Brunswick resident. More than 300 people attended the Brunswick course, and from their ranks a committee made up of three professors, three doctors, two attorneys and a general, drafted resolutions supporting Graham’s “principles,” which they said if widely adopted would lead “to the highest earthly welfare of the human family.”

Graham’s visit to Maine was championed by Dr. Reuben D. Mussey, who from 1831 to 1835, was the anatomy and surgery professor at the Medical School of Maine, part of the Bowdoin College campus from 1820 to 1920. Mussey was a Grahamite who in 1850 would become a founding member of the American Vegetarian Society and the fourth president of the American Medical Association. Prof. Mussey was known for converting students to the vegetable diet. 

Graham, the food influencer

The “History of Brunswick, Topsham, and Harpswell, Maine,” written in 1878, mentions the influence of Graham’s lectures on the people of Brunswick, stating “The doctor was an attractive lecturer, and his theory gained many adherents. The meat-market ran low, and butchers feared for their calling. Some really feared that their occupation was gone.”

In addition to urging people to avoid animal-based foods, Graham told people to shun alcohol and all stimulants (including spices, coffee, tea, chocolate, tobacco and opium). He urged them to eat vegetables and whole wheat bread and to drink pure water. By 1834, whole grain flour was known as Graham flour and the bread made from it was called Graham bread.

Beginning on June 24, Allen’s Bakery on Willow Street began running ads to let readers know it had “Graham Bread, Constantly on hand and for sale cheap.” On June 27, baker John Pearson alerted readers in his own ad that he sold Graham Bread at his Casco Street Bake-house, too. On July 9, the Blake & Howe bakery ran an ad stating: “We manufacture the bread recommended by Dr. Graham of good stock brought from New York expressly for the purpose.” As the summer wore on, merchant John Cox, who did business on the Central Wharf, advertised that the steamer Macdonough would arrive Aug. 18 with 10 barrels of Graham flour.

But not all merchants welcomed Graham’s presence in Portland. Within Graham’s unpublished, handwritten lecture notes housed at the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, Massachusetts, he writes: “A woman keeping a confectionary shop in Portland told Dr. J. W. Mighels that if she should meet Graham in the Street and had a pistol she would shoot him for he had damaged her more than a hundred dollars by his lectures.” Graham counseled against eating sugar, which Dr. Mighels, as one of the nine doctors who signed the letter endorsing Graham, would know.

The reported drop in demand for meat in Brunswick and sweets in Portland combined with the ads for Graham bread mark the start of Maine’s commercial health food market. Natural food expert Joe Dobrow writes in his 2014 chronicle of the health food industry, “Natural Prophets,” that “New England … had a long history in health foods, starting with Sylvester Graham.”

A minister who came from a family of doctors, Graham was well known for his love of wholewheat bread and his vegetarian physiology message. He also lectured on sexual physiology, which proved more provocative than counseling people to eat bran bread. Graham’s temperate philosophy extended to sex and treated men and women equally. He argued in favor of extreme sexual restraint for both men and women at a time when a sexual double standard prevailed, women lacked basic rights and men wielded tremendous power over women’s lives and bodies.

Graham delivered his lecture on sexual physiology to male-only crowds without problem. But as historian April R. Haynes writes in “Riotous Flesh,” Graham’s “lecture on chastity became inflammatory when delivered to women because it insisted that all bodies were subject to the same set of God-given ‘laws of life and health.’ In this way, reform physiology minimized the significance of physical differences such as sex, and implicitly, skin color. Rioters perceived Graham’s sexual universalism as challenging the basic hierarchies of gender and race that limited and defined Jacksonian democracy.”

Despite the speculation of some newspapers, it wasn’t Graham’s advice to eat wheat bread and vegetables that created the “agitation” in Portland. Instead, it was Graham’s Lecture to Mothers with its radical equal rights message that summoned the Portland mob, according to Haynes.

Anti-Graham mob

On Jan. 10, 1870, the Eastern Argus newspaper in Portland published a lengthy, front page story about wholesome bread, which it said should be made from whole wheat without sour milk or lard. The author, under the pen name Agricola (Latin for “farmer”), observes that 36 years after Graham’s lectures, Graham bread was now in “general use.” Agricola then recalls Graham’s visit stating, “These lectures to the women excited the wrath of some of the wealthiest and most respectable citizens, and the excitement culminated in a mob which one evening surrounded Temple St. church. The street was full of people and the excitement ran high. Brickbars were hurled through the windows, shouts went up outside and the woman shrieked inside the church. The lecture was broken up and Graham was compelled to leave the church in disguise and seek a place of refuge from the mob. It was a disgraceful affair, and some men seemed to be almost crazy.”

During Graham’s visit, the June 13, 1834 Eastern Argus praised his lectures as “worthy to be attended by all who can afford the expense.” In contrast, historian Haynes calls the Portland Daily Advertiser “active in drumming up hostility” against Graham. We see the first hints of this in the June 17 newspaper, where a letter writer named Simplex (Latin for “simple”) writes that Graham had been lavished with “over-strained praise” and instead deserves “reprehension.” However, even Simplex concedes Graham “is rather a personable man” and “has a good voice.”

The newspaper also promoted a comedic evening planned for June 30 titled “The Yankee at Home” where performer Mr. G. H. Hill would recite a “New Yankee Story” called “Aunt Nabby’s love of Graham Bread, and the starved Rats.”

This detail of John Cullum’s 1836 map of Portland shows the Temple Street Chapel, where Sylvester Graham lectured in 1834. Courtesy of the collections of Maine Historical Society, Map F 601 (detail)

But most strikingly, the Portland Daily Advertiser ran a notice for an “Anti-Graham Lecture” scheduled for 8 p.m. on June 27 at Portland City Hall (located where Monument Square is today and just around the corner from the Temple Street Chapel, which sat roughly where the entrance to the Nickelodeon movie theater parking garage is today).

One detail about the 1834 Graham riot that remains elusive is its precise date. However, it seems probable that the initial riot took place on June 27, the same night a hostile crowd gathered nearby. Haynes documents that mobs prevented Graham from lecturing the following night and when he returned a month later.

Further evidence that June 27 could be the night of the initial riot comes from the date attached to seven resolutions praising Graham and the correctness of his lectures that were adopted unanimously by 160 women who attended his Lecture to Mothers in Portland. In a bold move for the time, five prominent local women attached their names to the document, which expressed regret over “the misrepresentations … so freely disseminated … by individuals from whom we had a right to expect better things.” The July 22, 1834 Alexandria Gazette in Virginia reports the women’s “resolutions are highly complimentary to Mr. Graham.”

While both local and national newspapers reported on the riot, its cause remained unclear and open to interpretation. For instance, the New York Commercial Advertiser, which was quoted in several other newspapers, stated that “if Mr. Graham has been instructing the wives and mothers of Portland to cram any of his bread down the throats of their husbands and children we don’t wonder at the excitement.”

Graham, who published widely, never printed his Lecture to Mothers and no copy remains. However, Haynes documents that in the lecture Graham taught reproductive anatomy, counseled marital sex for procreation only and condemned masturbation, all topics he commonly spoke about at the time.

On June 26, 1834, the Christian Mirror, a Congregational newspaper, printed a letter from Helen of Brunswick, who praises Graham’s lectures, noting that “even here in New England — this moral Eden of the world — we fear there is scarcely a village, which is not contaminated by the lewd conduct of some pests —(they deserve not the name of men).” Helen’s statement, though veiled, likely speaks to sexual violence, harassment and gender-based power imbalances.

“The nature of Graham’s lectures and the audiences exposed masculine fears of women empowered by knowledge of their own bodies,” historian Adam D. Shprintzen writes in “The Vegetarian Crusade.”

On the very last page of Graham’s 350-page lecture notes, he lists five Portland men under the heading: “The character of those men who got up a mob against me in Portland June 1834 — according to common and accredited report.” He names names and then outlines each man’s character, including such observations as “a rich man — an infamous whore master — having a wife and child he is said and believed to have seduced two girls last winter”; and “a violent (Andrew) Jackson man — a bitter opposer of the temperance cause and is generally considered an Atheist.” Another Portland rioter, Graham writes, was a white man “reputed” to have fathered a child out of wedlock with a Black woman.  Haynes finds no evidence of the child but notes “Graham’s depictions of the other alleged conspirators can be confirmed.”

Turns out Sylvester Graham was a threat not only to the culturally-accepted practice of eating animals but, more provocatively, to gendered social norms, according to Haynes. In reaction, a group of “almost crazy” men incited the 1834 Graham riot to reinforce and maintain the existing social hierarchy.

One final note of interest here at the start of the 2021 tourist season: Back in 1834, newspapers in Providence and Boston were among those that reprinted a story from the New York Times citing “Mr. Graham, the cold water lecturer,” among a short list of entertainments in Maine that summer that prove “down-easters are becoming a famous people for amusements and exhibitions.” Not only did Graham stoke the smoldering local interest in vegetarianism, his eventful 1834 visit helped cultivate Maine’s early Vacationland image. 

Avery Yale Kamila is a food writer who lives in Portland. She can be reached at [email protected] Twitter: AveryYaleKamila

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Vegan food continues to flourish in Maine

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