#Charity shop sue

[shiftythrifting]

This was just such a downbeat book - and quite macabre. I'm not surprised the staff displayed it prominently, it's an absolute conversation stopper, I reckon.

In the Sue Ryder charity shop, in Tavistock, UK.

[alienzil]

Coffee Strong Enough to Wake the Dead (or to Summon Them) 

Prologue

“That’s it?” Tim asked.

“This is the only dangerous bit,” Constantine said while slipping the small statue into his pocket. 

Constantine had recently contacted Batman about a potentially dangerous magical artifact going up for auction. They had managed to acquire the artifact but it came as part of a rather large collection. 

“And what about the rest of it?” Tim fired back. Tim was a bit cranky, sue him. Bruce was busy with the Justice League so Tim was the only one available to attend the society auction to bid on the artifact. He’d had to spend all day yesterday smiling and making small talk at the auction, he hadn’t had a night off in almost two months and now the batcave looked like a wizard’s garage sale. 

“Use those detective skills to look up the nearest charity shop?” Constantine replied with a smirk. “Or toss them in the bin.” 

“Nothing else here is magical or potentially dangerous?”

“Ha, no. Complete fluke there was anything worth anything in there at all. The rest of the lot is just trinkets. Nothing dangerous or valuable. Anyways, now that this is taken care of, I’ve got a pint at the pub with my name on it.”

Tim looked over the various items already halfway planning to shove them in the attic for lack of a better plan. His eye caught on a beaded bracelet with a medallion charm. He picked it up and ran it through his fingers liking how it felt. “What about this?” 

Constantine sighed, annoyed at the delay. “It’s just a bauble mate.” He took it out of Tim’s hand and briefly glanced at it. “Ah, this. Some group of morons got it in their heads they could summon the King of the Infinite Realms a while back. Tried to make enchanted summoning charms to pass out to their followers. Thought if they got enough people together holding these little things they could pull the king through. Didn’t work of course. Pretty sure the head of that particular cult wound up an accountant last I heard.”

“So it doesn’t do anything?” Tim pressed as Constantine passed the bracelet back.

“King of the Infinite Realms has been locked up for centuries, kid. The worst it can do is clash with your outfit. Now I’m off.”

Tim watched Constantine go then looked down at the bracelet. He shrugged and slipped it on his wrist. Why not? It was just a bracelet and he liked it. Plus, he wasn’t exactly going to be trying to summon a deity from another dimension with it now was he?

[enigmawriteswhump]

The Last Librarian

Part 1

💠 Next

______________

It was easy to fall into the rhythm.

Secretary work was mind-numbingly boring, and paid less than was appreciated. But, the main reason why I kept going was that I needed to survive.

I needed to survive, so I could live. 

The lady I worked for ran a small shop named Stone Spirits, a little upstart company. They were backing off the new, trending holistic measures that the last few years had set spinning into motion. To be fair, it meant I was able to add more gems to my ongoing collection, and get free tarot readings once a month. Clara was nice once you got to know her. I mean, once you looked past the three piercings hanging from her nose, and the streaks of neon in her hair. It was enough to ward anyone straight-laced far, far away.

Sometimes I thought she was Fae from the way she practically floated on air with "nature's healing grace", as she called it. I also wondered how many zapain she was on per day to keep her so calm while running a company. 

I'm able to handle spreadsheets, orders, but it wasn't what I really saw myself doing for too much longer. I'd wanted to go into maybe geology, or maybe just art, or maybe something in between. 

Life falls apart sometimes, and puts you back together in all the wrong places. I'm still trying to rearrange things. 

Finally, the clock hits five, and I am able to lean away from my laptop. My fingers reach towards my head, and gently rub my sinuses. I was going to sue Clara for making me work and enticing me with free stones. I swear, I never had so many headaches before I started this job. 

I wearily raise my head, eyes alighting on the time. 

Shit! I have to let Lucas in! 

Scrambling back, I chuck my woolen poncho on, tuck a scarf around my neck and snatch up my bag. 

With hurried steps, the bell echoed shrilly as the door swung shut behind me.

***

My breath is still shuddering as I collapse into the chair, the fifteen minute walk before he arrived had me rushing. I wasn't usually so easily lost in thought, life kept me busy enough. But in the last year, I'd started an extra volunteering session in the library for children who had parents working in the district. They needed a place to go before their parents arrived from work. 

I'd actually worked in this library before, and it had been a nice, little part time job for me as a teen', but the place had since... Deteriorated. Staff kept disappearing, and it was on a "volunteer only" principle. The local council now refused to pay the librarians. Budget cuts. 

Sadness didn't begin to cover my feelings, to see another piece of life twisted around in some strange parody. Air now smells stale, instead of comforting and musty. The carpet had picked up dirt from a thousand people more. It looked all the worse for it. 

The scanners had broken and been replaced, seeming more and more alien against the decrepit library. Even the computers had grime that ran so deep into the keyboards I'm surprised they hadn't jammed. 

I'd done my best on my evenings here to tidy it up as much as I could. To coax some love back into it. Trying to hoover the floor, without much success. Rebacking the children's display with newer books. Books I'm sure wouldn't have been brought in yet without my interference... I had to stop myself from buying new sets of books from charity shops for the library. Even while I wanted to help, I didn't get paid for it. My rent had more control on me than books could. My hand could only forlornly rest on my purse. 

But at least one child didn't mind how horrid the library was. To him, it was a small space of heaven. 

He was my only kid who came on Wednesdays. His mother worked across the street in the cafe and finished at six thirty. While she was a woman with a drawn face and a closed heart, I knew she appreciated having someone help her look after her child. 

I almost found a mother in her. 

***

Today it's Horrid Henry, but I'm hoping I'll be able to guide him to a fantasy series next. At least then I could have a deeper conversation than "What did Henry do this time?". 

Fondly, I look over to the boy swinging his legs as he reads. Two shoes with hastily undone laces swung back and forth like a metronome. 

It calmed me, having company here. It felt as if my purpose was clear for an hour - to observe, to protect, to laugh. To bring a little boy some joy. 

I settled by my desk that I kept near his favourite chair, so that when he giggled, he didn't have to shout to where my desk was to tell me the line. 

It helped me to focus really, to sign out the occasional book on the online form and, on occasion, taking a chance to add to my journal. 

The library wasn't... Busy. Most children had their ipads and Netflix to keep them entertained nowadays. It made me almost nostalgic for the summers a decade ago. When the fountains outside worked, and the library was smothered with children all signing up to the Summer Read-athon. How they fizzed across the room with a book in each hand. Mothers chatting without discretion even though it was a library. Children's groups which ran across the holidays. The tinkle of the local ice cream truck chuntering along outside. Each moment rounding up more stray children with its corny and tinny tune. The smell of crisps and sticky fingers. 

The amount of life this place once had. The big corporations which had stamped out any homely, local businesses which had made the air that much sweeter. Yet now the clinical, conventional coffeehouse glared at us from across the street. 

I still missed the freshly baked patisseries. The welcoming smile of my usual barista. Her smile had been so beautiful. 

It was the clicking of heels muffling against carpet however, which snatched me from my haze of journaling. 

"Miranda," I greeted, closing my laptop and grinning when Lucas leapt off the sofa. 

"They showed us the space landing today! And I made a collage of the planets. It's in my bag." Lucas tilted his head adoringly, "Is Dad coming home soon? Is he still calling tonight?" 

Miranda smiled weakly, as if tired from Lucas' constant energy. To be fair, Lucas never stopped being in motion. I imagine it's hard being the focus of all that buzzing energy. 

"Wonderful, you'll have to show me your collage when we get home. Dad is still hoping to call, but we can't assume he'll get through. You know the connection can be patchy." she brushed his forehead with the back of her hand, and added wearily, "Tie your shoes up. You already tripped this morning for not doing them." 

I laugh, moving from sitting to leaning against the chair. I watched his tongue poke from his mouth as he fiddled with his laces. 

"I think it's the sensation of the tightness that he struggles with." 

Miranda glances upwards with a slight downturn of her mouth. 

"I don't know. He's so hard to buy for. He never wants to wear his shoes. I thought laces would be better since he can then tighten them to his liking." she sighed, a tired lock of hair falling against the curve of her cheek, "But he doesn't like a lot of things, so it's not new. Come on Lucas, Mummy has to go home and have a shower." 

With a last harrumph, Lucas finishes tying his laces and gently lifts his book, a small pout on his lips. 

"I don't want it anymore."

I step in, laughing, before his mother could retort, "Hey, didn't I talk to you about the book series with the Dragon's Son? Do you want to grab it to take home? I'll sign it out for you and upload it to your account." 

Lucas brightened eagerly, "Yeah! I want that one." 

"Well that's very doable. Let's go get it then. Remember where I put it on the reserved shelf?" 

"Yeppers!" 

Lucas placed the book into his bag, a small grin on his lips, "Can I come here next week too?" 

I incline my head, "I'll be here, as usual." 

Miranda stepped forward, the bags under her eyes would have concerned me enough to ask. But the short, hurried answer I've become used to dissuades me. The words "I'm fine." is her most common lie. 

I wish I could tell her that the smell of fish down the road was the best chippy, and that if you ordered haddock instead of cod, the batter was better. That if she wanted, I could walk Lucas home, take him to the park he'd never see. To fill his soul with the love I couldn't bare bestow to anyone else. 

"Thanks for tonight. I -" she bit her lip, "I don't know if you wanted to come for dinner one night this week. I've wanted to thank you for taking care of my son," there was a rare glimpse of a smile, "I want to show my appreciation in person. Lucas would like it too." 

Lucas looks at me, big doe eyes wide, and my heart folds. 

"I would be honoured." my lips move, and I can't take it back. It would be better for me not to know their life. It meant I wouldn't be disappointed with what I saw. But Lucas... Little, loving Lucas... I couldn't bear to leave that unspoken question in his eyes unanswered. 

I'm doomed. 

"Great!" Miranda practically chirped, her ebony hair giving a lifeless bounce, "I'll send you the address, and I was thinking Thursday evening. Pop by from five thirty onwards." 

Dread sinks in me as they walk away, a pair of arms that never released from my heart. 

To be a part of their life for one evening was more than I could have asked for. And more than I deserved. 

***

Afterword:

Okay! I've now written my first part of an ongoing modern AU in @oliversrarebooks 's Bookseller series!! I am so excited to introduce to another character next time, and to get this going! EEE! I am absolutely so inspired by @oliversrarebooks and @whumpsoda' s work. I feel like a small child offering their pasta rocket ship to qualified NASA scientists.

I've been hiding for a long time because of burnout. And seeing this universe grow is so exciting! I do not own any of the concepts in this universe either!

And finally, thank you for reading... I appreciate it!

[thelastspeecher]

I've been on a bit of a Foster Ford AU kick lately, and managed to get a little something something written up. Not featuring Ford, though. No, this particular write explains what Stan is up to in the Foster Ford AU. Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              Stan sat morosely on the swing, staring out at the ocean.  The Stanmobile was parked nearby, waiting for Stan to get in and finally leave Glass Shard Beach.  At this point, Stan had accepted that no one was going to come get him.  He was out for good.  But before he left, he wanted to stop by the swings one last time.

              Someone sat on the swing next to him.  Stan’s head whipped around eagerly, his heart pounded.  He blinked in surprise.  It wasn’t Ford, but he wasn’t completely disappointed by who it was.

              “Shermie?” he asked.  Shermie forced a smile at Stan.

              “Hey, kid.”

              “Don’t call me kid,” Stan muttered instinctively.  He looked away.  “Are you here to chew me out, too?”

              “No!”  Shermie sounded scandalized by the idea.  “I just…I wanted to check on you.”  Stan grunted wordlessly.  “I dropped by the shop today and Mom and Pops told me what happened.  Where have you been staying?”

              “Where do you think?” Stan asked.  He nodded at the Stanmobile.  Shermie sighed.

              “That’s what I was worried about.”  Shermie paused.  “You know what happened was wrong, right?”

              “Yeah, fucking up Ford’s experiment was wrong, they made that pretty clear.”

              “Not what I’m talking about.  Stan, they shouldn’t have kicked you out over that,” Shermie said firmly.  Stan tensed.  “And I’m definitely not gonna let you live in your car because of it.”

              “I don’t need charity.”

              “It’s not charity.  You’re my little brother.  I’m supposed to protect you.”  Shermie sighed heavily.  “I haven’t been doing a great job of it.  Pops…”

              “Pops is just strict.”

              “No, he’s not,” Shermie said softly.  “And the fact you think that is proof I haven’t been taking care of you right.”  Shermie looked at Stan.  “You’re gonna stay with me for a while.”

              “I told you, I don’t need-”

              “Yeah, you did tell me that.  But you’re wrong.  C’mon.  Amelia is making pasta tonight.”  Shermie stood up.  Stan stayed on the swing.  “Caleb’s gonna be excited to see you.”  At the mention of his nephew, Stan couldn’t help the small grin that eked its way onto his face.

              “Fine.  I’ll come for dinner with Caleb.  But that’s it.”  Both Stan and Shermie knew Stan would be staying for more than just dinner, but Shermie played along.

              “Sure.”

-----

              Caleb babbled happily from his playpen, which Stan had dubbed Baby Jail.

              “I’ll play with you in a bit,” Stan said.  He set down a box of plates on the kitchen table.  “Big strong Uncle Stan has to help your dad move everything in.”

              “Big strong Uncle Stan, huh?” Shermie asked, setting down his own box.  Shermie, his wife Amelia, his son Caleb, and Stan had just moved across the country.  Shermie got an offer he couldn’t refuse in San Diego, and Stan was more than happy to get some space from New Jersey.  “I’m not so sure about that.”

              “What are you talking about?” Stan scoffed.  Shermie poked Stan’s bicep.

              “You’re out of practice, kid.”

              “Didn’t feel like going to the gym back home, sue me,” Stan muttered.  Filbrick was a regular at the boxing club Stan used to practice at.

              “There’s plenty of places around where you can pick up boxing again,” Amelia said.  She opened the box of plates and began to put them away in the kitchen cabinets.  “Between that and classes, you should make some new friends fast!”

              “…Classes?” Stan asked.

              “You’re gonna get your GED,” Shermie said.

              “Since when?”

              “Since always.  The only reason I didn’t push it back in Jersey was because I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

              “I’m fine without a high school degree!”

              “Stan, you can’t just spend your life staying home with Caleb and boxing,” Amelia said, kindly but firmly.  “You need to get a job at some point, and you’ll only get a decent one with a diploma.”

              “I’m gonna fail.  The only reason I passed back home was because I cheated off Ford,” Stan insisted.  Shermie ruffled his hair.

              “I’m a teacher, remember?  I’ll help you get that passing grade without cheating.”

              “Fine,” Stan muttered.  He glowered at his brother and sister-in-law.  “But only because of the whole job thing.  I’m not gonna leech off you guys.”

              “And we appreciate that,” Shermie teased.  Stan rolled his eyes and went back to the moving truck to get another box.

-----

              “Rainy one, isn’t it?” remarked Stan’s chatty coworker, Chris.  Stan looked out the windows of the coffee shop.  Vague figures could be barely made out through the sheets of rain.

              “Where’d you get that idea?” Stan asked dryly.  Working in a coffee shop wasn’t his dream, but in San Diego, it was the highest paid part-time position he could get with a high school degree.  He had to pay for classes somehow.  Getting his GED without cheating had awoken something in Stan, and he wanted to see how far he could go.  As long as he stopped with community college.

              “You’re not the best conversation,” Chris said.

              “Chris, it’s five in the morning.”  The bell over the door jingled.  A short woman wearing a yellow raincoat and matching rain boots walked in.  She lowered the hood of her coat.  She had caramel-colored hair cropped in a bob hairstyle and dyed partially pink.  Her long, narrow nose took up much of her face, and even had a few raindrops that had snuck past her hood on the end.  Stan’s heart began to race.

              Shit, she’s cute.  The woman walked up to the counter and ordered a drink from Chris.

              “A large hot ch-” Chris began to relay to Stan.

              “I heard,” Stan interrupted, already working on the hot chocolate.  The woman giggled.  Like he usually did when making drinks for pretty ladies, Stan added extra whipped cream on top of the drink.  The woman took the drink from him.  Her eyes widened when she noticed the extra whipped cream.  She smiled at him sweetly.

              Stan grinned back.

-----

              “What are ya studyin’?” Angie asked.  She had become a regular after that morning in the coffee shop, and before long, she and Stan swapped numbers.  They had officially been going out for a month now.

              “College,” Stan replied.  Angie’s hectic schedule didn’t allow for extravagant dates, so today’s date was another walk by the harbor.  Angie rolled her eyes at Stan’s non-answer.

              “Surely yer takin’ some more specific classes than just gen eds,” Angie said.

              “No, not really.”

              “Ya haven’t figured out yet what ya want to do with yer degree?”

              “Get a job.”

              “But what kind of job?” Angie pressed.  Stan winced.  Angie cocked her head.  “Yer not fibbin’, are ya?”

              “If I was?”

              “Well, I’d be awful disappointed,” Angie drawled, her southern accent especially strong.  Stan suspected she played up her accent at times to sway him, since she knew he liked it.

              “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to make fun of me,” Stan said.  Angie nodded.  “I…I wanna be a gym teacher.”

              “Why would I make fun of that?” Angie asked.  “Teachin’ is noble!”

              “Getting a gym teacher degree at a community college?  That’s the setup for a punchline,” Stan said.

              “I strongly disagree,” Angie said.  She intwined her fingers with Stan’s.  “What made ya decide to do that?”

              “I took an intro class in it for an easy A,” Stan said with a shrug.  “Turns out I like it and I’m good at it.”  Stan raised an eyebrow at Angie.  “What about you?”  Angie went to a fancy four-year school, so he didn’t have her in any classes or see her on campus.

              “Biology with an emphasis in herpetology.”

              “An emphasis in what?”

              “Herpetology.  It’s the study of reptiles and amphibians.”

              “Ah, you’re getting a degree in lizards.  Got it,” Stan said, nodding.  Angie giggled.

              “So, when do I get to meet yer folks?” Angie asked playfully.  Cold water spread through Stan’s veins.  He forced a grin, trying to hide his reaction to Angie’s question.

              “You can meet my brother any time.  He keeps asking me when I’m gonna bring you home.”  Judging by Angie’s furrowed brow, she picked up on the careful dodge.  But she moved on without comment.

              “That sounds lovely.  We should set it up!”

-----

              Stan peered over Angie’s shoulder, looking at the papers she had strewn across the kitchen table.

              “I didn’t realize lizard school would be so tough,” he commented.  Angie sighed.

              “Serves me right fer decidin’ to do advanced lizard school,” she complained.  Stan kissed the top of her head.  She turned partway to look at him, then slapped her forehead.  “Today’s yer first day at yer new job, ain’t it?”

              “Yep,” Stan said, taking a sip from his mug of coffee.

              “I’m sorry, I should’ve made ya breakfast to celebrate!”

              “Pfft, what am I, five?” Stan scoffed.  He drained the rest of his mug and set it in the sink.

              “Still!”  Angie shook her head.  “I’ll make ya somethin’ nice fer dinner to make up fer it, okay?”

              “Sounds great, babe.”  Stan squinted at the paperwork.  He couldn’t understand any of it.  “Don’t pull your hair out over those lizards.”

              “Ugh, it’s the students more ‘n the lizards what are botherin’ me,” Angie muttered.  She got up to kiss Stan on the cheek and then sat back down.  “Take off yer ring durin’ class.  I’d hate fer it to fall off and get lost.”

              “It’s a fancy school for rich smart kids,” Stan said.  “None of them are gonna want my wedding ring.”

              “I wasn’t sayin’ yer students would steal from ya.  More that no one would be able to find it ‘cause it got stuck in somethin’.”  Angie raised an eyebrow.  “It prob’ly ain’t in yer best interests to imply yer students are thieves, Mr. Pines.”

              “Fine, Mrs. McGucket-Pines,” Stan teased back before grabbing his lunch from the fridge and the Stanmobile’s keys off the hook by the front door.  He planted a kiss on Angie’s cheek.  “See you after school.”

[fuck-customers]

I work in a charity shop, we can accept some electronics but we have to safety test them first before we put them out (if we put something out that is unsafe we could get in trouble for it). A customer asked if we had any blenders in as he was looking for one, I explained that we don't at the moment. However, someone came in at that moment to donate what else but a blender. The first customer immediately asked about buying it, I explained the bit about needing to safety test it and that our tester person wasn't in (you have to pass an exam to test, and higher ups limit the number of people who can try as it's expensive so we only have one person in our store who can test). But the customer kept insisting about buying it anyway, I gave him the store number and said the tester will next be in on x day so he can ask her then if it's passed and if he can reserve it. But he kept going round to my coworkers to ask about buying it immediately, and they were just telling him the same stuff I said. Like we aren't saying no just to be mean, we literally can't prove that it's safe and you could sue us if we sell it to you and it's unsafe.

@staff I HATE the new text editor!

[peterrsthomas]

Book Review: Mad Kestrel

I am a real sucker for a pirate novel. Throw some magic in there, and you’ve got me. One of my favourite books of all time is On Stranger Tides; one of my favourite movies is Pirates of the Caribbean. I’m not sure if this means my bar is set very high (I’ve read a lot of books about pirates) or very low (I’ll enjoy almost any book that has pirates in).

Mad Kestrel, by Misty Massey, I thought was a very enjoyable read. Again, I’m late to the party—the book was released in 2008. But I’ve only just found it in my local charity shop. Sue me. It’s a thrilling adventure with a compelling female lead. There are some wonderful action sequences and pulse-raising swordplay. And, of course, some sailing through rough waters (literally and figuratively), and intriguingly handsome—but also infuriatingly charming—men.

We follow Kestrel, a quartermaster aboard the Wolfsbane, as she attempts to rescue her captured mentor, Artemus Binns. Along the way she meets Phillip McAvery, a smooth-talking rogue who we don’t know whether or not to trust, and we are accompanied by a loyal, hard-working crew… or are we? Throughout, we are trailed by bounty hunters and a mysterious magical order, whose ceaseless pursuit keeps Kestrel constantly on her toes.

The magic system is probably the weakest part of the book. It’s used to drive the threat more than anything—the protagonist, a special kind of magic wielder, is afraid to use her magic lest she is found by magic hunters. So, we don’t really get to see how it works until the end. And, in the end, it seems almost anything is possible with magic. Because we haven’t really been exposed to it much throughout the book, it means the payoff isn’t all that great. Oh well: Less magic means more room for swords and swashbuckling! And the sword fights and action sequences are superb.

One thing though: I was disappointed with the author’s choice for the ending…

SPOILER ALERT!

The protagonist, Kestrel, is presented with a choice to take her mentor’s place as privateer for the king, or to go about her merry way as a pirate. We’ve had a whole book building up this character as a strong, independent woman who is fighting to prove her place as a leader of men; but in the end, she chooses to be under the thumb of the king. We’re told she negotiated better terms, and women are now allowed to sail on ships in the kingdom (yay!), but it feels a little flat after all that’s happened. I’d have liked for her to stick it to her (male) mentor and the king, and go off pirating into the sunset. But I can understand why the author went the other way… it certainly feels neater, and ties everything up.

Despite some flaws, this is an enjoyable read, with thrilling adventure and strong characters. I’ll add it to the list of books I’ll recommend to anyone who dares ask me pirate stories!

[familyparadox]

Just found the Joy Device in a local charity shop and acquired return to a fractured plant on line. This means I now have five of the seven Books which make up the Dellah gods arc

The ones I have are

Where Angles Fear

The Mary-Sue Extension

Dead Romance (Both VNA and FP versions)

Return to the Fractured Planet

Joy Device

This means I am only missing Tears of the Oracle and Twilight of the Gods. I think these two will be the hardest to get.

[havendance]

SantaQuest pt 2!

I have decided I still don't care enough to read the rudolph comics at this point so, continuing from last time, we're off to

Batman #239

Chronologically, this one comes before Shazam #11, but I forgot about it, so we're doing it now.

Story #1: Silent Night, Deadly Night!

We open on Batman, pursuing someone who's been attacking Santas and stealing money they were collecting for charity! After a pursuit and brief scuffle in which our attacker attempts to strangle Batman with Christmas lights:

We learn that he's doing this because he was laid off his job and has his young niece to look after. Batman's like 'cool motive but that doesn't excuse the crime,' and after further discussion the man decides that actually all the blame is on the man who laid him off and goes off to confront him!

Batman pursues (with young Betsy the niece), only to be stopped by the snow! Fortunately, he finds a Christmas miracle!

Betsy: Look! Batman: A horse... and an old-fashioned sleigh! No sign of the ownder... but we'll borrow it anyway! I hoped for a miracle... I got one! Hang tight, Betsy-- Horse gidyap!

In the end Christmas spirit triumps! Our criminal (of sorts) had a change of heart and didn't attack the man who laid him off, instead helping him along with Batman when it turns out he's having health problems. Batman offers to help the man get back on his feet, and when he goes out to check on the sleigh... it's gone!

Batman: Strange... They're both gone! Vanished without a trace! The horse and the sleigh were responsible for the... miracle the doctor mentioned! ...Wonder who owns them!? No, no second though... I do know who it belongs to! Narration: The storm is gone... and a star rises in the east to herald a new day...

This is the basically the only appearence of Santa here and it's in spirit. But it's still fun

Story #2:

The Loneliest Men in the World

A reprint from Batman #15: Batman and Robin team up to spread christmas cheer! Santa also does not appear in the story, not even in spirit, but I need to share the santa sleigh-mode Batplane with you all:

Batman: How do you like it? Robin: It's a regular Santa Claus sled, with runners, sleigh bells and everything! ... This is going to be more fun than anything we've done in a long time!

Forbidden Tales of Dark Mansion #15

In this story we meet one of those men wearing a Santa costume who has just appeared to kidnap a young girl! We then change over to meet old Mr. Kringull who likes to repair toys for his neighbors. I wonder who he could be...

Mr Kringull: Not a darn thing, Mrs Green! I'm just pleased as punch that I was able to fix up all the broken toys in my shop in time for Christmas! Tonight is Christmas eve, you know and I want to close up early! Got an important little--er--errand to perform tonight, and a lotta friends are gonna to be mighty cross with me if I don't do what I'm supposed to do!

When our fake Santa's landlady discovers the body of the girl he kidnapped, he's pursued by the police, taking refuge in a sleigh in the back of Mr Kringull's shop. And what do you know? He really is Santa! Our fake santa makes the mistake of standing up in the sleigh and falls to his death! Hanging behind like a gruesome, uh, a gruesome something. Sue me I don't have a good metaphor at this time.

[fancoloredglasses]

Batman’s Anniversary/A Riddling Controversy (The Riddler’s looking a bit creepy... and kooky)

[All images are owned by DC Comics and 20th Century Fox Disney. Please don’t sue me]

Fans of the Caped Crusader’s 60s TV show know the four core villains, but three of them have appeared in more episodes than the fourth. The reason for this is that Frank Gorshin (who played the Riddler) wanted to renegotiate his contract after the first season, so the studio fired him (they brought him back for an episode in Season 3)

This review covers the one Riddler story in season 2. No, they didn’t bring Gorshin back for the story, but rather…well, you’ll have to read on to find out! If you would like to watch the episode, it’s available on Hulu or behind your favorite paywall.

We open in Stately Wayne Manor where Bruce Wayne is helping his ward Dick Grayson with his geometry homework when Alfred quietly announces an important call from Commissioner Gordon.

Gordon is a bit coy, not saying who or what requires Batman’s presence, but that he needs Batman right away at the Gotham Plaza Hotel. One quick drop down the Batpoles and the Dynamic Duo are off!

At the Gotham Plaza Hotel, Commissioner Gordon rushes the Caped Crusaders to the ballroom where…

…he reveals a surprise party luncheon celebrating the anniversary of Batman’s debut in Gotham as the opening credits roll!

Mayor Linseed presides over the luncheon, announcing the Gotham Dairy Council (wait, Gotham has dairy farms?) has donated $200,000 to the charity of Batman’s choice (I’m gonna guess it will be the Wayne Foundation) and the donation is presented…

…inside of a golden calf by Ms. Anna Gram (that’s an odd name). Why would they put the money inside such a gimmick? Why not just write a giant novelty check like everyone else? Just then…

As Batman tries to get the guests out in an orderly fashion, the GCFD shows up…

…through the window? The “Firemen” take the golden calf and hastily exit back through the window along with Anna Gram (Yeah, should’ve just done the check) As the “Fire Chief” exits, he can’t help but taunt Batman.

The Riddler! (Ah! Anna gram…ANAGRAM!) Only he looks a bit like Gomez Addams.

Yes, with Frank Gorshin fired, the producers brought in John Astin and hoped no one would notice.

Riddler leaves a clue for Batman about his next caper…

OK, that sort of riddle is more what I would expect from a villain who’s whole schtick is trying to outwit Batman (it’s much better than “What weights six ounces, sits in a tree, and is very dangerous? A sparrow with a machine gun” anyway)

With that, Riddler escapes to a waiting GCFD vehicle.

…which looks more like a red panel van. You’d think, given the GCPD doesn’t need much of a budget given that Batman solves 90% of the crimes in Gotham City, the city could afford a fire truck.

Batman and Robin rush off to the Batmobile to give chase. However, the Riddler’s panel van emergency vehicle crosses paths with an identical emergency vehicle and Batman isn’t sure who to chase!

Then a newspaper vendor stops at the Batmobile to try to sell one to Batman.

Batman then opens to the crossword page (an engaging page to be sure!) then heads back to the Batcave to solve the puzzle.

Meanwhile, at the Riddler’s hideout…

(You know, if the GCPD raided every joke shop, game factory, umbrella shop, and bird/cat food warehouse on a weekly basis, crime would drop over 70% in Gotham City!)

…the Riddler prepares for his next heist.

I’m gonna guess it’s underwater.

Meanwhile in the Batcave…

You mean he hasn’t entirely solved the crossword yet? I thought Batman was the World’s Greatest Detective!

They then look at the answers in the upper left corner and realize that there is a charity BANQUET at the BASIN STREET hotel that has collected $100,000 for the Wayne Foundation Batman’s favorite charity!

To further complicate matters, Gordon calls that a flooded water main has flooded an underground bank vault (a BANK-WET! Clever, writers Mr. Nigma!) Batman has Gordon cover the banquet while he and Robin check out the bank-wet.

Later, at the bank-wet…

…Riddler and his goons prepare to blow the vault when…

Why are they walking when they’re supposed to be underwater? Unless everyone has weighted shoes, they should be swimming! The Dynamic Duo slowly confront the Riddler and his gang and they fight in slow motion…

(but no ZOWIE!)

…until Riddler removes Robin’s rebreather, forcing Batman to let the criminals escape before Robin drowns.

As the Caped Crusaders leave the bank…

(looking a lot drier than they should), Batman spies a riddle left behind.

(when wearing a waterproof bat-suit?)

Back at the Riddler’s hideout, Riddler tallies his ill-gotten gains thus far at $1.5 million, but he needs twice that amount.

So THAT’s Riddler’s game! Buy a super-weapon and hold the city hostage!

Then Anna escorts in the man who will sell Riddler this weapon…

(If there’s some sort of gag in that name, I’m not seeing it)

Prof. Charm is selling his super weapon (known as the demolecularizer) as revenge against the Gotham Science Institute for not allowing him to join. (Y’know, he could just use it himself, but then he’d be out three million bucks)

At the Batcave, Batman and Robin have yet to solve the latest riddle when Alfred reminds them of an appointment with the Gotham City Bakers’ Guild.

Well, Batman certainly wouldn’t let a silly thing like a master criminal’s crime spree get in the way of a PR stunt!

Later at Gotham City Bakery…

…the bakers prepare to sculpt the marshmallow toppers for the giant cake. They ask Batman and Robin to stand on top of the cake (why? You’d think they’d want their subjects close by to get as much detail as they can while sculpting in marshmallow)

Wait, that’s no baker! Though he is cooking up something fiendish, I’m sure!

No sooner do Our Heroes step onto the cake, they begin sinking!

I think I know the answer to the Riddler’s clue.

Riddler then leaves to collect the rest of Batman’s charity money (when will these villains learn to confirm their kills?)

Which means it’s time for the cliffhanger!

But you won’t have to wait until tomorrow! Just click that “next episode” button on whatever method you’re watching this.

Now, onto part 2!

So what deus ex Batshit will the writers Batman come up with this time?

That works. Thanks Robin!

(Fortunately, TV was so low-def that the viewers didn’t see the wires pulling Our Heroes out)

Later at the Riddler’s hideout, the villainous gang watch the news of their exploits. Then the newscaster said the Commissioner and Batman made a joint statement about the Riddler’s latest heist.

(I would call that an “Oh shit!” face)

Meanwhile, the newscaster states the Riddler’s latest clue.

(I’m telling you, the writers have really stepped up their game for Astin’s Riddler!)

The Riddler quickly recovers, not believing Batman survived.

I gotta say, that line was pretty clever.

The gang has their doubts, but the Riddler is confident they’ll pull off the final caper needed to cover Prof. Charm’s price for the demolecularizer.

Meanwhile, in Gordon’s office, the Commissioner brainstorms with a very-much-alive Batman and Robin about the riddle. Gordon says a nest is blessed when they are young ones.

Robin once again solves the riddle (Batman’s supposed to be the World’s Greatest Detective, yet Robin seems to solve 95% of the Riddler’s clues)

Fortunately, Batman’s knowledge of the bullshit geography of Gotham City comes into play, as he remembers a nightclub on top of one of Gotham’s skyscrapers known as the Eyrie (which is another name for an eagle’s nest) However, with some mental gymnastics that would make Mary Lou Retton (remember her?) proud, they come around to a “Latin eagle”…

(So Gotham City is harboring deposed dictators? I guess he’s one of the ones the CIA likes)

The Caped Crusaders head to Aquilo’s penthouse, but…

…will they be too late?

Batman soon arrives, much to the shock of the Riddler. However, he quickly recovers and sic’s his goons on them as the fight music begins!

…but no ZOWIE! (I know there were fights that have a ZOWIE! and I’ll eventually review one…oh wait, I did!)

The Dynamic Duo make short work of the Riddler’s goons, but the Riddler tells Batman to let them go, or…

…he will blow up Aquila (who looks like a stereotypical tinpot dictator. You’d think he wouldn’t dress like a revolutionary while in America). All Batman has to do to free Aquila is solve the Riddler’s puzzle box and disarm the bomb. By that time, Riddler will be scot-free. Batman obviously has no choice.

Later at Riddler’s hideout, Prof. Charm gets his payment and presents the demolecularizer to the Riddler!

Prof. Charm demonstrates by disintegrating demolecularizing a hat.

The Riddler then calls Gordon to go to the park and keep an eye on the statue.

Batman quickly joins him. Shortly after…

…the Riddler strikes! Shortly after, a messenger gives Batman the latest from the Riddler demanding all laws be abolished in two hours or he’ll make GCPD disappear, then a building a day until his demand is met! Obviously the Riddler doesn’t know how government works. They can’t get anything accomplished in two years, let alone two hours!

And of course this being the Riddler…

Seriously? I take back what I said about the writers being clever!

…I take back my take-back.

As the Boatmobile sits in front of a green screen aimlessly wanders Gotham in search of the Riddler, Robin figures out the first of the Riddler’s clues (not that it was that hard; the answer is “man”)

For the second part, they do more mental gymnastics to take the first letter of key words in each of the Riddler’s other clues, convert them to their numerical equivalent, add them together and come up with 36. Robin comes up with 36 inches (or 3 feet?) Robin says no one has three feet…

Congratulation Batman, you figured out what the rest of have known since the beginning of part one: the location of the Riddler’s hideout! (remember?) Batman immediately calls Gordon and tells him not to give in to the Riddler’s demands. He then asks Gordon to bring to the Batcopter’s hanger (again I ask, how is Gotham Airport getting paid to store and upkeep the Batcopter?)…

Doing a quick google search, there’s no such thing as sodium dichlorite! Now, sodium chrlorite is used in mouthwash, but I doubt Batman needs minty fresh breath to beat the Riddler. Sodium dichloride is a disinfectant, but that doesn’t seem like it would help much either. What the hell kind of deus ex Batshit is the Bright Knight planning?

Meanwhile at the Riddler’s hideout, Riddler informs the audience his gang that he’s hidden the demolecularizer in Gordon’s office (wouldn’t that disintegrate the demolecularizer as well?) As the deadline looms, the Riddler turns on the TV to watch GCPD (and his demolecularizer) vanish. The newscaster announces that Gordon will go down with the ship GCPD.  

Meanwhile outside…

Wait, weren’t they just in the Batcopter? Why didn’t they just fly it there instead of taking the time to return to Gotham City Airport (for that matter, why take the Batcycle when the Batmobile was no doubt parked nearby?)

Then, just as the deadline comes…

…but other than a lightning strike, nothing happens. Needless to say, the Riddler’s confused and a bit pissed. Then Batman and Robin come in with their deus ex Batshit explanation.

Yep, Batman used the sodium dichlorite to seed a cloud, causing a thunderstorm which shorted out the building’s power.

[OK…first off, it’s silver iodide that used to seed clouds. Second, there is NO FUCKING WAY Batman could time and aim a lightning bolt at GCPD to short out the building at the last second! Third, there’s also NO FUCKING WAY Batman could know the demolecularizer was inside the building!]

Cue the fight music!

(STILL no ZOWIE!)

While Batman and Robin do the mop up, Ana Gram tries to escape, but…

Chief O’Hara made good time, considering he was in Gordon’s office less than a minute ago!

Later in Gordon’s office, Prof. Charm turns himself in, donating the funds he gained from selling the demolecularizer to the Wayne Foundation (I KNEW IT!) in exchange for a lighter sentence. Batman promises he’ll be admitted into the Gotham Science Institute as soon as he’s released from prison.

Roll credits!

I’m going to say I would’ve enjoyed seeing Astin return for more episodes as the Riddler instead of Gorshin returning for one more episode. The writers were a bit more clever (some of which could’ve been Astin’s input as well), and Gorshin’s giggling sounded too similar to Cesar Romero’s laugh which (when you add in that EVERY villain on the show left puzzling clues for Batman to solve) made the Riddler seem like a cheap Joker knockoff. Edward Nygma deserved better.

(Thanks to hol up)

...and certainly better than what Joel Schumacher did to him!

[shiftythrifting]

Knockoff grey Winnie the pooh notepad with bad English. Bought for .10c at Sue Ryder charity shop. 

[annarellix]

THE BEACH HUT MURDERS (The Charity Shop Detective Agency Mysteries Book 2) by Peter Boland

My Review: I fall hard for this series when I read The Charity Shop Detective Agency: I loved the solid and well plotted mystery, the quirky characters and the compelling plot. I had high expectations for this book and couldn’t wait to catch with Fiona, Sue and Daisy, the ladies of the Dogs Need Nice Homes, and read about their squabbles with the Cat Alliance. This book is all I loved in the first instalment and something more as the ladies investigates another complex series of murder and use their brain to solve it. I read it in one sitting as I couldn’t stop turning pages as I was having a lot of fun and wanted to know the solution. If you want to read a well plotted and highly entertaining cozy mystery, if you like Richard Osman or Richard Cole novels, go and read this series. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Joffe Books and Books 'n' all Promotions for this digital copy, all opinions are mine

The Book:

It’s almost summer in Southbourne and the ladies of the Charity Shop Detective Agency are ready for another season of sun, sea and . . . murder.

Amongst the rows of charming brightly painted cabins, an elderly man’s beach hut is set on fire in the middle of the night — while he slept inside. By day, Fiona, Sue and Daisy volunteer at the Dogs Need Nice Homes charity shop. But, by night, they investigate crimes. And they’re determined to get to the bottom of this murder. Malcolm Crainey was a bit of an eccentric, but he was harmless really. Who would want to kill him?

The ladies soon uncover a long list of possible suspects. Neighbours who hated Malcolm for refusing to swap huts. Members of the snobby beach hut association who took umbrage with Malcom’s quirky beachcombed cabin decorations. Then another hut is burned down in the dead of night. Thankfully there was no one asleep inside this time. But the pressure is on — can Fiona, Sue and Daisy find the culprit before the beach hut murderer strikes again

THE CHARITY SHOP DETECTIVES Level-headed Fiona has found a quiet sanctuary volunteering at the local charity shop, Dogs Need Nice Homes. A charity shop that raises money for, well, dogs that need nice homes. And she’s found firm friendship with the strong-willed Partial Sue (she’s ever so partial to a cup of tea) and the kindly and surprisingly tech-savvy Daisy. Together, these ladies, with Simon Le Bon, Fiona’s scruffy-haired terrier cross, investigate murders as the Charity Shop Detective Agency.

THE SETTING The lovely coastal town of Southbourne is, on paper, little more than a small suburb hemmed in by Bournemouth to the west and Christchurch to the north. But it’s home to the prettiest avenues lined with gorgeous Georgian homes which lead to a grass-topped cliff standing guard over a sweeping bay of blond sand, soft as Demerara sugar. Some say it’s also home to the best charity shops in the country. The ladies of the Charity Shop Detective Agency maintain that Dogs Need Nice Homes — though musty and more than a little cramped — is certainly number one. Well, they definitely help solve the most crimes at least!

ALSO BY PETER BOLAND THE CHARITY SHOP DETECTIVE AGENCY MYSTERIES Book 1: THE CHARITY SHOP DETECTIVE AGENCY Book 2: THE BEACH HUT MURDERS

The Author: PETER BOLAND After studying to be an architect, Pete realised he wasn’t very good at it. He liked designing buildings, he just couldn’t make them stand up — a big handicap in an industry that’s partial to keeping things upright. So he became an advertising copywriter, the highlight of which was creating an ad featuring Raymond Briggs’ The Snowman. He then tried his hand at writing his own stories and quickly realised there’s no magic formula. You just have to put one word in front of the other (and keep doing that for about six months). It also helps if you can resist the lure of surfing and drinking beer in a garden chair. The first book in his Charity Shop Detective Agency series will publish in late 2022.

FOLLOW PETER ON: GOODREADS FACEBOOK TWITTER Joffe Books page

[wenchtoast]

why did I agree to go and do a second shift this evening. because *charity shop sue voice* I want shum moneh. but I was thoroughly sickened by the behaviour of the group I had this morning I don't want to have to serve them again at dinner

[scotianostra]

On 20th April 1918, Mora Dickson, Scottish author, painter and campaigner, was born in Mofat.

Mora went on to be one of the founders of the Voluntary Service Overseas, or VSO, scheme.

Mora was born in Glasgow, an accountant's only daughter and the second of four children. She spent her early years in Moffat, Dumfriesshire, largely to avoid the polluted air of the city. Her father drove around the United Kingdom in search of the "right" school, and she was eventually educated at St Felix's, Lowestoft - where she became head girl - and Edinburgh School of Art, although her studies were cut short by the outbreak of the second world war.

Dickson met her future husband in London where had she moved to pursue a career as an artist.

Initially, she took an instant dislike to the impeccably dressed, arrogant man, who, in turn, thought she was an upstart.

However, despite the bad start, they fell in love and in 1951 - two years after they first met - they were married.

Then a journalist with a passion for do-gooding in the former colonies, Alec was later appointed an ambassador for the United Nations and Mora accompanied her husband on all of his official trips.

Their vision for VSO grew out of a disastrous trip to Iraq when Alec was the head of a UN delegation to Baghdad. He realised that what was needed was not bureaucrats touring the capital but volunteers able to speak the language and work at grassroots level.

In 1957, Alec resigned from the UN and VSO was born.

The couple drove through thick jungle, hiked over thickly-misted foothills and slept under mosquito nets as they toured different projects.

VSO differed from its predecessors by shrugging off colonial do-gooding for hard graft and youthful energy from volunteers who wanted to help without being patronising.

The first dozen 18-year-olds who were sent to Ghana, Nigeria and Sarawak became an army of volunteers reaching across the developing world and VSO went on to become one of Britain’s greatest exports.

John F Kennedy was so impressed he summoned the Dicksons to Washington in 1961 to advise on the establishment of the Peace Corps.

But despite the achievements, just four years later they were ousted.

The coup was a devastating blow for her husband, who did not leave his room in the couple’s London home for a week. Having recovered, the Dicksons went on to found Community Service Volunteers (CSV) in 1961, a home-based version of the charity.

Both from wealthy families, the couple invested their money in the stock market and property. But although they quietly amassed a small fortune they lived frugally, recalled Robertson.

"They never spent anything," he said. "Mora would buy her clothes from a catalogue; she hated shopping. But if you ever needed money there would be a cheque in the post before you knew it. Her generosity, with both her time and money, was quite extraordinary."

After the death of her husband in 1994 at the age of 80, Dickson returned to her roots in Scotland, moving to Edinburgh where she continued to paint and write.

She was made honorary vice-president of VSO 12 years before her death, in a belated move by the trustees to heal the rift.

Dickson, who has 43 grandnieces and nephews and an extended family across the world, never had children of her own.

A prolific author, she had 21 books published during her lifetime.

She also wrote of her travels and illustrated the stories with black and white scraper-board drawings which brought the couple’s adventures into relief.

When Dickson died, her niece Sue Robertson, was flooded with letters of condolence from all over the world.

She said: "The esteem and regard in which she was held all over the world was really quite overwhelming."

[adultswim2021]

Moral Orel #28: “Orel's Movie Premiere” | July 2, 2007 - 12:15AM | S02E18

Orel has been working on his masterpiece: a stop-motion animation movie about his adventures. He’s invited all of Moralton’s respected adults to the premiere while he and several children are doing the voices on live microphones. Orel’s film doesn’t have synchronized sound and is being projected with an old school projector. This begs the question: what year does Moral Orel take place in? I’m not sure I’ve actually brought this point up before, but the technology in Moral Orel seems to roughly be mid-20th Century, think 1950s-1960s. For example: when people play music it’s always on a vinyl record or over the radio. I can’t even recall an instance of a VHS tape being on the show. I’m guessing this is meant to match the setting of Davey and Goliath, which (begins sweating) THIS SHOW IS 100% NOT A PARODY OF. Sometimes you hear an out-of-time Christian death metal song, and Stephanie, the sex shop owner, has a lot of Suicide-Girl-esque body mods that don’t exactly scream 1950s. My guess is that it’s set in the mid-60s until it’s inconvenient, or Moralton’s strict codes for living prevent technological advancements.

Anyway, the film roughly tells the events of The Lord's Greatest Gift, God's Chef, and Charity. These very important events in Orel’s life happen to be the first three episodes (in the intended viewing/production order). Orel innocently reveals a little too much about the personal lives of various adults sitting in attendance. In particular he bumps up against the psyche of Reverend Putty, who he describes as a great man who is so pious that he doesn’t need to have any girlfriends ever. Putty’s inability to get his dick wet has been a running gag in the show up until this point. He does get his bone on in the previous episode, which might undermine the joke here. It’s important to note that this episode was actually scheduled to air BEFORE that episode, but as far as I can tell the widely-accepted episode order for the series is production-order for season one and air-date order for season two. It makes enough sense.

I guess the more important thing to notice here is that Orel considers the events of the first episode (as well as the following ones) to be a significant moment of his life; perhaps it’s the moment he saw himself coming of age. These events will also weigh heavy for other citizens of Moralton in the coming season, and only then do people start to reckon with the various things they’ve been through as a town.

One memorable moment features Orel’s expressionistic portrayal of being spanked by his father, involving an actual human-sized belt wrapping around his clay maquette as if it were a giant snake. This causes Moralton’s doctor (I forget his name! SO SUE ME) to question if Clay is molesting his son. Clay is aghast and disgusted. It’s sort of a strange moment for me, it would seem gratuitous unless they were intending to center the series climax on this uncomfortable idea. But it seems like he’s not molesting him? Like, he shouldn’t be spanking Orel but it does seem like he’s punishing him in a socially acceptable way. I don’t know. I might be watching season three a little more closely now. I wonder if Dino originally wanted to go full-on Todd Solondz with season three?

At one point (midway through the second act of Orel’s film), Joe takes the microphones away from the other kids and mocks the film while everyone gets mad at him. He calls out the librarian for making eggs be illegal, and calls out Principal Fakey for having an affair with “the dumbest girl ever” (Nurse Bendy). This is ironic foreshadowing for season three. He also has a passing mention of not liking to think about the inevitability of death (who does?). This anxiety could also be related to the fact that his father is very elderly and close to dying himself. This is explored more in season three.

In addition to those bits of continuity, there’s a nod to casual viewers’ penchant for mixing up the name of our protagonist, Orel, when Doughy flubs a line by calling him “Moral”. Ironically this episode is currently incorrectly titled “Moral’s Movie Premeire” on Amazon’s digital service. They also list the episodes in strict production order, which fucks up a lot of continuity. Don’t watch it in amazon order, people. HBOMax seems like they have it all sorted out correctly, for what it’s worth.

This is a very funny episode, and it goes down easy. This MIGHT be the last episode of the show that does that. Get ready for “Nature’, everyone. 

[nightmaretour]

I'm not sure if they run in the US or not or if so whether they're as good, but if you're in the UK, donate to the YMCA instead!!! (Despite the name, they don't just take men anymore!)

They're so, so good to the people they take in, and provide great, clean and safe places to stay both short term and longer term as well. (Also, in most long term places police officers cannot enter the building AT ALL without a warrant or the YMCA will sue their asses off. I'm not sure how it works with short term buildings but I imagine they have similar rules.)

Not only that but they actually work together with people to find them long term housing, arrange benefits and help them with job applications to help them afford said housing, connect them with their selected addiction and harm reduction services, and generally just care about improving their lives. And they have the building's case worker around all day most days specifically to deal with residents' concerns and help fix their issues, too. And if you have problems with that individual? There's a number to call to speak to someone else up on the notice board near the entrance.

Really the only issue I had there is that in longer term housing maintainance can enter your place without permission if you're not present at the time, which felt a little uncomfortable since I had the elevator maintainance door thing in mine, but I understand why.

Anyway, definitely donate your money to the YMCA. They put out requests for clothing donations when they need certain things, but fortunately they get a lot of their donations directly from the manufacturers or buy them in bulk instead (since there's so many locations, it works out much cheaper.) But you can donate to their charity shops to help them gather funds instead! Everything sellable goes straight to the shop floor or is sent to other shops with fewer items coming in. I've seen some really nice valuables in there that definitely wouldn't make it to the shop floor in a lot of places.

Sorry for the long rant but I am so, so passionate about them after what they did for me.

DO NOT SUPPORT SALVATION ARMY 

[choco-cherry-chunk]

Uh-oh, part 2, part 2:

Modern BBC Ghosts AU a la Cherry (i.e., with mpreg bullshit) - Part 2

PART 2

“Who did you tell?” Despite having Mia in her lap as she sat on the floor (tummy time was become a fundamental afternoon activity in their house), Alison managed to look pretty damn accusatory.

Mike tried not to look as offended as he felt. “What makes you think I told anyone?”

The subject of their neighbor’s potential pregnancy had been a subject of debate for the Cooper couple of late. They were new parents, they were usually too tired to watch television, sue them for wanting to talk about something other than breast pumps and unmatched socks once in a while. Mainly said conversations centered around either a) how likely this situation may be based on whatever evidence they gathered, and b) when The Captain would come to the same conclusion they had and “tell them” the news (after he told his husband, of course). In the week since the man had helped Mike bring the groceries in and gotten sick in their sink, both had seen little of him. There were occasional waves through the window as one of them was leaving the house. Different visitors who came over to the Cooper flat may have mentioned him, to which they did their best not to dive onto the information. But no luck on a concrete answer, and thus nothing had changed on their subject of conversation. Except…

Mike hadn’t meant to say anything. Really, he hadn’t. Hell, he wasn’t a true gossip in the manner of some of their other neighbors. All it had been was a slip of the tongue. Robin had invited him over to show him how to repair a lamp he’d bought at a charity shop. He even suggested Mia be brought along, seeing no harm in her presence for a lesson in wire repair So, with his daughter strapped to his chest and a desk lamp in hand, Mike made his way up to Robin’s apartment.

The place was a lot cleaner than one probably would have given the guy credit for. Most of the mess was just clutter from various repair projects or dirt from plants he was growing. And maybe some animal hair, but that was mainly from the furs that covered much of his furniture. The place looked like an old Abercrombie advert. Not that Mike would say anything. He knew Robin had quirks and who was he to judge? Especially when the guy did all the electric stuff in the place for free and was actually pretty cool when it came to showing Mike how to maintain plants.

The lamp’s repairs hadn’t taken much time and, while Mike wanted to believe he was getting better at understanding Robin’s way of speaking, he’s only understood maybe a third of his instructions, and accepted the likelihood of needing to return for his help in the future. Finished with the task, the two elected to share a beer before Mike returned home with Mia to start dinner. Said girl was enraptured with her own invented game of trying to grab Robin’s fingers while he nudged at her hands and feet.

“She faster now.” Robin asserted, barely slipping from her touch as she reached at her toes. “Got fast fast.”

“Yeah, like a weed, this one.” Mike agreed, dropping a hand onto the top of her head, “She’s gonna be six months in a few weeks. Can you believe that?”

“Can. Still fast.” Robin nodded, grinning when he let her catch his finger and she tried to draw to her mouth. He glanced up and noted that Mike shook his head before he pulled it away to continue the game, “Was little baby, now big baby. Soon bigger baby.”

“Time flies, man.” He agreed, taking a pull from his beer. “But hey, won’t be without a little baby around here for too long, right?” The comment was casual, good-natured.

“What you mean?” Robin laughed at the same time that Mia did when she managed to kick at the center of his palm. Mike couldn’t help laughing too. His girl’s humor was contagious.

“Well, you know, the Captain’s ba—” He trailed off, eyes wide. Robin’s gaze slid up to meet Mike’s. The room was silent, save for Mia’s noises of vague protest, unhappy that her game had come to a sudden stop.

“Cap’in’s what?”

“Nothing. His nothing. Listen, thanks again for the help. And the drink. Pretty sure Mia’s gonna get fussy soon, so we’re gonna go—” Putting the bottle on the kitchen counter, Mike adjusted Mia in her Bjorn and started for the door.

“What’s Cap’in’s nothing?” Robin tried to call after him, following him out of the kitchen and pausing in his living room, “Leave lamp?”

“Yeah, the lamp looks good with all the leaves. See you later, Robin.” Mike couldn’t get back to their flat soon enough. The door was barely locked before Mia started to cry and he had to change her. Before long, he started to forget he even slipped with Robin.

But Robin didn’t. Mike’s words turned over in his mind as he tossed the bottles and moved the lamp (Mike was right – it did look good tucked between the Birds of Paradise and the Dracaena Lisa). It was still on his mind when Julian arrived for their usual chess game, the man content to enter Robin’s apartment with the spare key and dig through his cabinets for glasses, already in the middle of rambling about something his current client did that he personally deemed ridiculous – even as his complaints breached some code of ethics. It was only when they’d finished their second round and were delving into a best of five that Julian noticed the reflective state of his game companion.

“What’s eating you, mate? You look like you swallowed a bee or something.” Julian snorted out a chuckle at his description, “Knew chap a decade or so ago. Actually did swallow a bee. Looked like one of those blob fish for a week.”

Robin paid little mind to the man’s anecdote, instead fussing with the hair of the deer skin spread on his armchair. “You know… about Cap’in’s nothing?”

Julian frowned. “Captain’s nothing? Like a sweet nothing? Don’t think that’s what people call them these days. Some shit about “partner” like they’re cowboys.”

“No. Not him. His nothing. His baby nothing. Mike say it.” Robin tried to explain, pausing to move a rook across the board. Julian didn’t appear to notice.

“What the hell is a baby nothing? Is this more of your made-up nonsense? Like that ridiculous notion about chocolate soda.”

“Chocolate soda made you sick, yes.”

“They were espresso martinis and were very popular in the 2000’s.” Julian snapped before shaking his head, “Just break it down. What is a “baby nothing”?”

“Something Mike say,” Robin shrugged, “He say Mia become big baby, so no more little baby. But new little baby coming. He say Captain have baby. Then Captain have nothing. Together, baby nothing. Your move.”

Julian didn’t move from his seat, the turbines in his brain starting to spin from a gentle breeze to a full-on gale. “He said The Captain’s having a baby?”

“I said what he said.” Robin was growing frustrated with this line of questioning. Either Julian needed to catch up and get it, or he needed to move his piece.

“Did he say for sure? I mean, I spread my fair share of pregnancy rumors in my time. Especially if they were between married opponents who weren’t married, if you catch my—“

Robin groaned loudly and slumped in his chair. “Mike say Captain have baby and leave like bum on fire. What else you need? Move damn piece!”

“Alright, alright. My God, man, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Julian scoffed, moving one of his pieces. However, his attention was still so fixated on Robin’s explanation that he didn’t even care when he was checked three moves later. At least, he didn’t care that much.

He was still chewing on the information the following morning, sitting outside with some coffee. Usually Julian preferred to prepare for his day in the confines of his flat, but he could see Mary and Annie working in their garden and he knew well enough that if he caught them on their way in and played nice, he would get first pick of week. And like hell he was letting Fanny get all the watercress they would let slip like she did last time, that crafty witch.

The possibility of The Captain’s circumstances made a surprising amount of sense for Julian. Of all of the residents of Button House, it would suffice to say that the two of them got along in only the rarest of circumstances. Though they still found themselves drawn into conversations. Maybe it came from leadership recognizing leadership. Still, he couldn’t imagine The Captain as a father. Hell, he barely saw himself as one, even with the degree of pride he had for his daughter. So who was he to comment? Not that he wouldn’t, obviously. The thought of “Modern Major General Stick Up The Arse” waddling about with a melon for a middle was hilarious to him. Julian was just chuckling to himself at the thought when he heard footsteps coming up the drive. Finally, his chance for some damn—

“Oh. Alison.” He greeted, settling back in his chair. The younger woman was pushing a prom along, the whole contraption stuffed with toys, shopping bags, and – obviously – a baby. Mia was sound asleep in the thing, not even reacting to the crunch of gravel beneath the wheels of her vehicle.

Alison brushed her bangs out of her eyes, a bit of sweat sticking them to her forehead from the exertion of pushing the stroller. “Morning, Julian. Getting some sun?”

“Something like that,” He agreed, gesturing down the mass of lawn with his mug before setting it aside. “Take it you’re doing the same?”

“Sure,” The remark was sarcastic, but Alison was grateful to at least have an excuse to catch her breath before continuing on her way. “Just some errands. Mia had some stuff to do.”

“Right. Had some bills to mail, did she?” Julian was often surprised to find the ease with which he could be so casual in conversations like this, interact with his neighbors and their children. Well, child. Well, children, in the future, he supposed— “Pay off a ticket, toddling without a license?”

“You’ve got it.” Alison smiled a little, shifting her gaze between Julian and Mia. “Your girl get into that kind of mischief?”

“Not really. Not that I remember anyway.” The pinch of Allison’s eyebrows, the brief slip in her smile didn’t exactly help the coffee swirling in Julian’s gut. He was aware that his presence as a father was far less than satisfactory, a truth that was largely known by the Button House community, but that didn’t mean he needed to be looked at with judgement or pity any time he mentioned his daughter. Not that he could blame her for the reaction. But could she, in turn, blame him for not wanting to dwell on such things when he was trying to improve— “Speaking of mischief, have you heard the good news?”

“No, what?”

“It seems our resident military man’s in the pudding club.”

Alison’s expression grew all the more pensive. “What?”

“You know, he’s harboring a fugitive.” Julian’s eyebrows raised pointedly, while his friend still stared at him like he was Robin. Christ, is that what he looked like during their conversation the night before? “You know! He’s “tiiiiiiiiiin roof, rusted”!” He offered a mediocre impression of the B-52’s lyric, miming a large stomach over his torso. Alison’s eyes blew wide with the gesture and Julian nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh! Robin filled me in last night. But don’t ask me anything else about it, my lips are sealed.”

However, as he spoke, the woman was hurrying up the drive. “Wait, don’t you want—” Before he could even finish enticing her, the front door was kicked shut. Clucking his tongue, Julian’s gaze returned to the garden. Those two farm woman wannabes had better have moved along. He didn’t have all day for this.