#If she loses her job that is one less nurse to treat actual women and their babies

[coochiequeens]

Oh Canada. A nurse who treats women and babies could lose her job because of her activities outside of work after two people, who weren’t even her patients, complained.

For more than two years, Canadian nurse Amy Hamm has been going through an ordeal that can only be described as Kafkaesque.

In November of 2020, Hamm had been informed by the British Columbia College of Nurses and Midwives (BCCNM) that she was under investigation for her “off-duty conduct.”

Two members of the public – neither of whom were Hamm’s patients – had complained, essentially, that she was a “transphobe.”

Despite Hamm’s flawless track record and her history working with transgender patients over the course of her decade-long career, the BCCNM took the random complaints seriously. Six months later, Hamm was sent a document over 300-pages in length detailing dubious “evidence” of her transphobia in the form of her published articles and posts on social media.

Hamm is an advocate for women’s single-sex spaces, and has been involved in the Canadian iteration of the debate around gender ideology – the idea that one’s self-declared “gender identity” is more important than their biological sex. BCCNM took the position that Hamm’s personal views made her unfit to be a nurse.

Hamm’s lawyers described her views to the BCCNM as follows:

“Men are not women. Humans are a dimorphic species. Women and men are biologically different from one another. Women and girls have sex-based rights as a result of those differences. Those rights are under threat. This is the truth. It has always been the truth. Speaking the truth should not be a punishable offense.”

Hamm has written and spoken publicly about gender ideology in addition to organizing large events where this topic can be debated and differing perspectives can be heard. While she had been doing this for almost 7 years, what eventually triggered the two complaints against Hamm was her involvement in erecting a billboard in Vancouver that simply said “I [heart] JK Rowling.”

The billboard didn’t last long, and was vandalized repeatedly in its short time being up on Hastings Street.

For this, she was put at risk of losing her nursing license and her livelihood on the charge that she has made discriminatory and derogatory statements regarding transgender people while identifying herself as a nurse.

Initially, her disciplinary hearing, which is taking place over video, was scheduled for May 30 through June 3, 2022. However, it quickly ballooned to an expected seven days and was rescheduled for September 21-23 and October 24-27, 2022.

After the first seven days, four more days were subsequently added the week of January 10. The fourth day in January was canceled when it became obvious that the hearing was nowhere near completion, and it was decided that another eight days would be added.

Those dates have not yet been scheduled, but one wonders if even the added days will be sufficient to conclude what has so far been a demonstration of the ideological capture of the BCCNM.

It all kicked off on day one when BCCNM legal counsel Michael Seaborn (who displays he/him pronouns next to his name, like the rest of the BCCNM legal team) declared that insisting there are only two sexes denies the very existence of transgender people.

The BCCNM contends that, as a regulated professional, Hamm is not allowed to make such basic, factually accurate statements.

The next day, the BCCNM called on its first expert witness, Dr. Elizabeth Saewyc, who is the Director of the University of British Columbia School of Nursing and a member of the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH), which recently decided that a man who castrates himself as part of a sexual fetish is a gender identity.

One of the highlights of Saewyc’s testimony was when she had great trouble (or, at least, pretended to have great trouble) understanding that lesbians are females attracted to other females. In fact, she opined that it might be transphobic for a lesbian to openly state her exclusive interest in other females.

The next witness for the BCCNM was Dr. Greta Bauer, a Professor of Epidemiology and Biostatistics at the Schulich School of Medicine and Dentistry at the University of Western Ontario. Bauer is also a member of WPATH.

Bauer continued to present ludicrous ideas about sex and gender identity as if they were universally accepted and unquestioned.

She spoke confidently about toddlers having gender identities and people changing sex over the course of their life. At the same time, she was unable to define terms like “gender,” “sex,” “women,” and “female.”

At one point, Lisa Bildy, legal counsel for Hamm, put to Bauer a definition of “female,” coined by biologist Heather Heying, that accounts for all possible caveats: “Females are individuals who do or did or will or would, but for developmental or genetic anomalies, produce eggs.”

Bauer could not agree with this definition. When Bildy pressed further, legal counsel for BCCNM Barbara Findley objected, claiming that the definition of “female” was outside of the scope of Bauer’s expertise.

Like Saewyc, Bauer did not agree that lesbians are females who are exclusively attracted to other females. She said that lesbians should examine why they are not attracted to men who identify as women and likened sexual orientation to sexual racial preferences.

Bauer also dismissed concerns about the potential harms of placing trans-identified male prisoners, many of them sex offenders, into women’s prisons. She hand-waved away the suggestion that this situation may create an unacceptable level of risk by saying that “cisgender” women assault each other in prison as well.

On the topic of gender-affirming medical procedures for minors, Bauer stated that it would be transphobic to question any of the extreme and experimental interventions that are being performed.

When Bildy suggested that one of the side effects of hormonal interventions for young trans-identified females is early menopause and corresponding symptoms like hot flashes, Bauer remarked that some adolescents might be “excited about that.”

Bildy closed her cross-examination by pulling up a photo of the infamous Oakville, Ontario high school shop teacher. 

She then asked Bauer if the man wearing the enormous prosthetic breasts is a woman.

“If she identifies as a woman, then her gender identity is a woman,” Bauer responded.

“With full access to female spaces?” Bildy pressed.

“As per the law,” Bauer said.

Hamm is, essentially, in trouble for holding the opposite position.

After Bauer’s cross-examination was complete, it should have been time for Hamm’s witnesses to give their testimony. However, counsel for BCCNM has spent a good portion of the 10 days of proceedings trying to get her impeccably qualified witnesses dismissed.

Legal counsel for Hamm intends to call Dr. Miriam Grossman, Dr. Kathleen Stock, Dr. Linda Blade, and Heather Mason. All have extensive knowledge of the gender ideology debate and experience in different areas pertaining to it.

Dr. Grossman is a practicing psychiatrist who works with trans-identified patients and has been raising concerns about gender ideology since 2006.

Dr. Stock is a philosopher, a writer, and the author of Material Girls: Why Reality Matters for Feminism.

Dr. Blade is the president of Athletics Alberta and co-author, along with journalist Barbara Kay, of Unsporting: How Trans Activism and Science Denial are Destroying Sport.

Mason is an advocate for women in prison and a former federal prisoner who knows more than anyone what is happening to the marginalized women who are bearing the brunt of Canada’s disastrous policies regarding the placement of trans-identified male prisoners.

BCCNM counsel has argued that none of these witnesses’ experience, expertise, and opinions are relevant to Hamm’s case, despite the fact that they clearly demonstrate the existence of an ongoing debate of great public interest.

On day 10 of the hearing, Karen Bastow, legal counsel for Hamm, reiterated that what is taking place is not a negligence case but a free speech case. She stressed that Hamm’s speech is protected by her charter right of freedom of expression.

Opposing counsel Findlay made it clear that the BCCNM cares nothing for Hamm’s charter rights by launching into a description of how Canadian institutions have been completely captured by gender identity ideology as if this is a positive and desirable state of affairs.

“A transgender youth in Canada, or an adult for that matter, may discover their identity as transgender and, when they do, they find it in the context of a medical and a legal system and an educational system that recognizes and understands, accepts, and assists with their identity as transgender people. The schools teach it, the doctors practice it, the nurses care with it.”

She concluded, “there is no debate here. Here, the debate is settled.”

Except the debate is not settled in Canada: it has not even begun. The BCCNM is trying to prevent it from even starting by silencing Hamm and not allowing her witnesses a chance to testify.

What is happening to Hamm should not happen in a free and sane society. It is an example of the totalitarian nature of gender ideology and its “no debate” mantra come to manifest.

Amy Eileen Hamm is a dedicated nurse who has never faced any workplace discipline. She is a mother of two young children. And she is now facing the loss of her job for stating basic facts that most people agree with. This should concern everyone.

Our society should be applauding the kind of people who can stand up to social pressure and against atrocities like the sterilization of children and the destruction of women’s boundaries. Instead, it has cowed to a regressive orthodoxy that is burning heretics at the stake.

No, the debate is not settled. Amy Eileen Hamm’s hearing is only its beginning.

By Eva Kurilova Eva is a guest essayist for Reduxx. A regular contributor at Gender Dissent, Eva is passionate about promoting lesbian activism and protecting women's sex-based rights. You can find her traversing the Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada with her partner and their husky, Freya.

[thebreakfastgenie]

one 🔥 for mash, one 🔥 for tww

These won't be new because I post my unpopular opinions all the time lol but

MASH:

There is a very obvious "king of repression" in MASH. It's Margaret. Margaret struggles to admitting she's feeling anything or experiencing negative effects from the war to anyone. If there is anyone Sidney is dying to put under a microscope, it's her, although I don't think he sees any of them that way; they're his friends and he likes being able to help them, they're not lab rats. Margaret has an entire conversation with Sidney wherein she's denying feeling anything at all, while expressing sublimated rage, and basically projecting, as she's trying to offer him advice. In fact, rage is one of the few emotions she ever feels comfortable expressing. One of the only people who can get past her walls is Hawkeye, and in Comrades in Arms she even falls back on rage with him.

Margaret's second conversation with Sidney is mostly comic relief and unfortunately dominated by early installment weirdness Charles ship tease, but it goes very similarly. She makes claims about other people while seemingly unaware of her own feelings and behavior, and she yells a lot.

Margaret says she's not a very open person. We see her struggle to form relationships, including with the other nurses, because she is so closed off. She's lonely, but she pushes people away. It's hard for her to admit she wants or needs anything. She hates to show any kind of vulnerability.

And yet we can see Margaret be compassionate! With the other characters in the later seasons, and with the patients throughout. She does acknowledge emotions, just not her own, because that would be too dangerous.

These are all traits you rarely get to see in a female character and I for one owe Loretta Swit my life.

In the spirit of the game, I'll get a little spicy:

I think the reason the fandom devotes so much time to the repressed BJ headcanon--which is just that, a headcanon-when Margaret is right there doing it in canon and gets very little attention is that people struggle to see female characters as complex. Emotional repression in particular tends to be associated with men; we see this all the time in society. This is not a problem specific to this fandom; it's a reflection of how we are taught to view women that manifests in every fandom. I do think Margaret is a prime example of it.

TWW:

I don't like Donna's arc in season 6. I think it loses sight of the foundation of the character, which is my criticism of a lot of seasons 5 and 6. I hate the "shallow girlboss feminism" critique, but if the shoe fits... We're supposed to believe Donna is overqualified for her position and Josh has been unfairly holding her back. This is simply not the case. There wasn't really a ladder for Donna to move up. She was very good at her job, so Josh had every professional reason to keep her.

None of the other assistants are portrayed as being treated unfairly. Mrs. Landingham, Debbie, Bonnie, Ginger, and Carol are all career assistants. That's a real job! Donna also has no formal qualifications and no relevant experience prior to the Bartlet campaign. The whole point of Donna was that this silly, slightly flaky young college dropout is actually extremely smart and capable. Donna not wanting to remain an assistant makes sense, but she wasn't wronged. The job offer she gets in season 4 is lucrative, but it's for a start-up, where formal qualifications are less important than in, say, the White House, and they're more free to emphasize her on-the-job experience. Donna getting as high a position she as she does on the Russell campaign is frankly absurd and in my opinion a product of it being a convenient way to have two main characters handle those campaign scenes.

Once Donna does get successful, she jettisons most of her personality in favor of being Competent and occasionally the only moral one (2162 Votes; Donna is the moral compass of the show but the way that was presented bugged me). And Josh was right, if a bit dramatic, when he said he was the victim. Donna quit without giving notice! That's pretty unprofessional! Donna was so full of shit when she accused him of keeping her in grunt-level servitude, when we've seen the responsibilities she's been given. And like... knowing how he liked his food was part of her job. It's uncomfortable to admit but Josh did give her a career. That doesn't mean she's beholden to him forever, but it happened. In Impact Winter, she never told Josh what the meeting she wanted to have was about or that it was important until the last minute. She also knows better than literally anyone that his meetings get rescheduled all the time because that's the White House, and him not prioritizing her meeting over various urgent situations is not personal. Maybe if the show had done a better job of showing him dismissing her and taking her for granted as an ongoing pattern I would buy it, but they didn't.

Even in the Josh/Donna resolution in season 7, Donna has to be Cool and Right even at the expense of making sense. Josh is the first one who brings up talking (and even indicated he wanted to way back in Election Day, which she ignored), but we're supposed to believe it's a sign that he's panicking about commitment when he doesn't want to do it while badly jet-lagged? It's all the tables have turned, Josh is pining for Donna, until Donna's the one setting deadlines. All in all it made the character much less enjoyable for me and unintentionally sent the message that women can't have personality and success. Iirc, CJ gets a lot less fun material once she becomes chief of staff, too.

[byorder-fanfic]

Finn’s Lost Loves

Summary: Finn’s lost more than anyone else knew because of the war, and every stupid thing his family have done afterwards to keep themselves in charge.

Word count: 2019

Warnings: Mentions war and blood, talks about eating disorder, self harm and self-esteem, and homophobia (only a little bit, period accurate), a lot of toxic masculinity 

Author’s note: This is a lot of angst with little bits of fluff and a sad ending. Sorry. It’s basically an overview of Finn’s character, backstory and his relationships with the family that we’ve never gotten to see! It’s based off a piece of prose in my drafts, so if you guys like this, I might post that as well. Hope you enjoy, and please comment, I love hearing your opinions and any constructive criticism you might have xx

Finn loved books. Once upon a time, he really did. He loved the way Tommy did the voices, and Arthur made those wild motions with his hands, and John could always make him laugh as he told him about that thing that happened in the pub last week. He loved how Ada and Polly would tuck him up in bed, place a kiss on his temple and read the letters from the boys. Then they came back, and he didn’t need to read letters. Or books. Or anything really. Soon, he didn’t even go to school. He just wanted to be with his brothers. Now they tell him to piss off more than they beg him to stay. Tommy and Polly scold him for not being able to read off the betting boards, and John makes everyone else laugh when he holds a big volume under Finn’s nose, so that everyone knew that Finn was still illiterate. Finn hates books.

Finn loved Church. He didn’t need Polly to drag him by the heels as he sobbed under the Virgin Mary’s stare like his brothers when he hopped, skipped and a jumped all his way down the road. He always sat by Isaiah, the two boys out-screaming each other in the hymns and seeing who Polly would scold first. He wore the crucifix everyday, and treated his rosary with all the sacred carefulness a six year old could manage. He loved the psalms and Jeremiah’s voice ringing through the streets and the way everyone was always together (even Charlie) on Sunday. Then he had to light candles, praying for his brothers’ safety that was only answered with their damnation as they dragged back blood and French mud into Watery Lane. Now he cries through the paper thin pages of a Bible and his only prayers are that the boys never see his tears. What did he have to cry about after all? He was never a soldier, but he should learn to be a man. Finn hates Church.

Finn loved healing. Ada dragged him along to her nursing classes and soon his only reason to come to Church was to learn how to tie bandages and fix up cuts and bruises. No one noticed his long absences- they either assumed he went to school still, or they were far too busy with the race tracks to care for the whereabouts of their youngest brother. But then he'd slipped up, and he'd never seen his brothers laugh so hard when he proudly told Polly he was going to be a nurse one day. Even his aunt and sister, usually the ones on his side, had to purse their lips together as Arthur roared out: "Hear that, Tom? We got ourselves a Nurse Shelby here! Want a dress and hat to go with it?" He told them all to fuck off and stamped out, but he didn't understand what he said that was so funny. When he asked Isaiah, who had just turned fourteen and starting to see Finn less and less, he just said that being a nurse was a woman's job. He didn't like being laughed at for being a girl, but he didn't know why. He still hoarded textbooks about anatomy and the like under his bed, tracing over the detailed pictures with his skeleton finger as he wished. And wished. And wished. And almost prayed that he could read the little ink words. When he found Arthur with another red line on his neck, he offered him some medicine to cure his big brother's blues, thinking just a bit of Tokyo would keep his brother here with him. No one asked why Finn was sad. Oh well, at least he could protect his brothers now. Finn hates healing. Finn loved food. Always the big eater in the Shelby household, he managed to always have a full stomach despite the poverty that reigned. He was a stickler for sweets, though, and as soon as he mastered the art of sneaking rings and wallets from unsuspecting strangers, he soon graduated to thieving lollipops and boiled sweets and even some toffees that he proudly deposited into his aunt's hand with a toothy grin. But the boys would look into his empty plate and his skinny frame and tell him he'd better watch out, soon he might actually have a shape under those bulky clothes. They always laughed, and he felt himself completely embarrassed at the dinner table. He dumped more sugar than milk into his tea and stole chips when they went to the seaside. He'd always offer to share, wanting to provide for them for once, but they'd tell him he was the one who needed it. He sees his ribs and the little vertebrae of his spine and wonders why can't he just be strong like his brothers. Even though he despises it, he picks up boxing to fill out his form. Maybe training with Isaiah was an extra benefit, but the older boy had long since talked to Finn on the regular, and made a point to laugh at him when he fell onto the floor. So, Finn graduated from second helpings of lunch and too-sweet tea to the sour delights of whiskey and cigarettes. Just like his brothers. Finn hates food. Finn loves his family. He loves Polly, the mother he never had, and will never feel like he does enough to repay her for his entire childhood. Then Michael came back, and soon there wasn't any chore lists on the downstairs table for someone to read out for him, or little check ups throughout the day as she makes sure he's okay. That was when he realised exactly why Polly raised him in her empty arms. He loves Arthur: his eldest brother, who used to lift him up on his shoulders and teach him to draw. Finn still has faded old pictures of galloping stallions (signed in block letters: A.W.S) slipped between the filled out pages of the sketchbooks he hides in his wardrobe. Then Arthur came back, with what everyone calls Flanders Blues, but no one explains, and Finn feels like he's losing his brother everyday when he comes back smelling like a brewery with blood on his fists. Finn loves Tommy. A father figure to him, the kind of man he wants to be when he grows up. But then Greta died and Tommy went to war, and the man who took him horse riding every weekend was gone, and this Tommy was colder. Finn loves John as the best friend he's ever had, always laughing together, giving sometimes useful advice and finding days to just spend time with each other. Despite John's bazillion kids, widowerhood, and then his new wife, he's always had time to spare for his little brother. John was the one who told him what bisexual was when he found Finn sobbing in his room, he was the one that took him to the doctor when he passed out from malnutrition, and he's the one that made him swear to never use razor blades on himself again. Finn loves Ada. He sees why Freddie calls her an angel, and used to love it when she pretended to take Finn to the library when in fact they were both slipping away to a Communist meeting, which would usually end up in Ada and Freddie slipping away and leaving Finn in the trusted supervision of leftist radicals that he happily chatted away to. Ada always took care of him, making sure he was never involved in the business (on either side) and telling him that being a soldier is a life sentence, not an honour. He lives because Ada keeps him safe and sane. Then Ada leaves. Finn hates the Shelby name that everyone screams at him like a condemnation, that invites slurs and hatred that only he gets because he doesn't look like a proper Shelby man. Finn hates his family. Finn loved Isaiah. A childhood crush that brought butterflies to his stomach and blushes to his freckled face. He sketched the boy's face so many times, he knew it by memory. They held hands when they were chased down the streets, laughing and sprinting as their spoils stayed securely in their pockets. But Isaiah was older than him. Soon after adolescence hit the Jesus boy and Peaky Blinders offered him a role, without the constant of Church, the two greatest of friends became almost strangers to one another. But Finn still loved him. He never told anyone, of course. He knew he wasn't a real homosexual, because he most certainly did enjoy holding hands and kissing the cheeks of girls his age (poor boy was flustered to ever do more!) but his heart still belonged to the preacher's boy. With more faithful women in the family than ever before, Finn knew he would be crucified if he ever told anyone. John was the only one who knew, and that was based on the fact he paid more attention to his brother than anyone else combined. He said he should just go for it, but Finn knew Isaiah couldn't be like him. And even if Jeremiah was always the kindest man that Finn ever met, he still didn't trust that the cross on his neck wouldn't shame him or laugh at him for the fact he was completely enamoured with his son. Then Finn got drunk, and when he woke up, his entire family knew exactly how he felt and Isaiah wouldn't look at him in the eye. He ran away to the stables, crying on Uncle Charlie's shoulder who told it would be alright. He made sure to keep an eye on Finn ever since, keeping an eye on his wrists and fists. The incident was soon forgot by everyone but him. Finn couldn't find it in him to hate Isaiah, but he knew he didn't love him any more. Finn has never loved Michael. He thought he could, at first, when he saw the tweed suit and a face more innocent than his. But then Tommy promoted him almost on the spot, and Finn had never at once felt so much rage bubble inside him. Everything he has done for his brothers, every passion he sacrificed, every humiliation he shouldered, just so they could see him as an equal. But no, there are only three Shelby brothers as far as anyone else is concerned, and Finn carries on as errand boy. He ignores all Ada's good advice, and swear that he will make his brothers proud of him one day. So, he puts on the thorn crown of a Peaky cap and wears the waistcoat and wool coat of his brother's likeness, and parades about Small Heath like he actually was apart of the makeshift royal family. Then Finn found Michael and Isaiah kissing in the alleyway. Even though Finn had made a point to announce that his brothers had started giving him more work, Isaiah still fucked off to the pub with Michael every night, devoting his time and attention to only him, and Finn couldn't understand why. Now he did. If Finn had been violent like Arthur, he certainly wouldn't have thought twice about taking the cup on his curls and cutting the smirk off of his cousin. He had stolen his brothers' respect, his surrogate mother's attention, his place in the business, the affections of the one boy Finn had ever loved. He had stolen Finn's everything, and Finn hated him. They both froze and stuttered. Excuses about just being friends, just experimenting, but he saw the way they held each others shaking hands just as he and Isaiah used to hold onto each other as they raced through the streets. "I'm glad you're together." He shocked them both with a forced smile. "You both deserve to be happy." The two were kinder to him after that, almost back to the old friendship he had missed, and Finn knew he didn't hate Michael. Or Isaiah. Or any of his family, really. No, Finn hated himself.

[daddysfavouriteboytoy]

Jester Winters

Name: Jester Winters Nickname: Jesse, Jess Age: 21 Birthday: 13th December Gender: Male Sexuality: closet Bisexual Species: Human Appearance: (Face-claim: dimatabu)

Clothing: Jester prefers to wear comfortable things and therefore often just wears his work-out clothes, of course only when they’re washed and not smelling of sweat. Besides, he also loves cool clothes, which means for him, things from sports brands for which he normally has to save a lot of pocket money. Height: 1,84 m Tattoos: on the right side of his neck, on his chest Personality: Jesse is the cliché of a popular jock, he’s arrogant and stuck up just because of the plain reasons that he’s athletic and therefore has quite a muscular body, making many shallow girls fancy him quite a lot. At the same time, the boy can be very aggressive when something unpleasant happens to him no matter how small this thing may be and mostly lets his frustration out on preferable guys who are weaker and less popular them him. However, surprisingly the reason for his anger issues isn’t his missing intelligence, to be honest, Jester is a very clever boy not only because he is a good listener when he wants to be but also because it’s easy for him to connect stuff he already knowns with the things he just learned. This results in Jesse finding quite well ways to get out of sticky situations and making up believable lies like it was nothing. Unfortunately, Jesse just uses his intelligence to get out of an uncomfortable situation and rarely to think his actions trough beforehand because he’s an extremely careless boy who thinks he's invincible. It’s also very hard for Jester to relate to other people’s emotions, making him come across like a cold-hearted asshole. For some reason though, all of these characteristics make other girls who care more about personality have a thing for Jester as well because they wish and think they are able to change him and turn him into a better man, this, however, only results in their heart being broken and Jesse’s ego getting even bigger, knowing he can woo whomever he wants even though his personality is mostly shit. The only people, Jester seems to be nice to are his father, older brother and his best friends. These are the people he cares for after all and hence treats better than strangers, less than being overly polite and friendly, however, he tries to be at least respectful, helpful and not insult them… too much at least. Relationships: Rita Orr – mother; 46 years old; married; accountant Gina Z. Orr – step-mother; 52 years old; married; CEO Aaron Winters – father; 47 years old; divorced; clerk Jean Winters – older brother; 23 years old; unknown Kate J. Rich – older step-sister; 27 years old; taken; nurse Ruben Orr – younger step-brother; 18 years old; single; High School student Likes: the family of his father’s side, sport, action movies, mango milkshakes, doing sport in the morning, risky situations, his stupid ideas working out, spending time with his brother, black jack twenty-one, sex Dislikes: the new family of his mother, his glasses, fighting with his parents, seemingly always making wrong decisions, self-centred people, being a burden, being too poor to finance college should he lose his scholarship, missing the football training, being insecure because of his poor eyesight, most cheerleaders Hobbies: football, swimming, going to the cinema with his friends, flirting, surfing, soccer, collecting caps with the logo of his favourite sports teams on them Occupation: Student  Position: Top Virgin: No Turn-ons: making-out, vocal partners, dry humping, dirty talk, doing it at risky places, being scratched Turn-offs: degrading, sex toys, overstimulation, choking, food play, his partner letting him do all the work Other:

prefers to be called Jesse

is nearly blind without his glasses or contact lenses

fears that he will lose his  scholarship

is the quarterback of his college’s football team

picked up the habits of drinking and smoking because of his father

rejects his feelings for boys because of his hatred towards his homosexual mother

Backstory: Jesse’s family never had much money and therefore couldn’t afford a luxuries lifestyle. However, the money was always enough to get by and let the children go to a proper school and study, so at least they could afford to have a better life one day. Unfortunately, to achieve this goal for their children, Jester’s parents were only rarely home, his mother was working two jobs while his father worked long hours. Thanks to this Jean and Jesse had to learn to be independent at an early age, making food for themselves and their parents once they came home, cleaning the house if it looked really bad and disgusting once again, buying groceries, washing their own clothes and so on. However, Jesse’s somewhat enjoyable and normal life was destroyed when he was only nine. His father lost his job because the company he worked for got bankrupt. Afterwards, it was hard to make the little money they had work and for their father to find a job once again. Even after years passed by, the man still hadn’t found anything and picked up the habit of smoking and heavy drinking. Jesse’s mother had enough, not only was she never home but her useless husband didn’t even manage to take care of the kids and just wasted the money she earned. One night after a heavy argument, the woman left only to return the next day, wanting a divorce. To the boys’ shock, their father agreed and not even a half year later, they moved out of their old house and into a much nicer neighbourhood. It turned out their mother had an affair with her boss for over a year now and actually planned on leaving her husband to move in with her girlfriend since a while before the divorce actually happened. Unfortunately, Jesse didn’t see his new life as anything but terrible, he hated his mother for leaving their father while he was at his all time low. She was a heartless bitch for him, ever since. However, that wasn’t even the worst problem, his new step-mother had two kids from her old marriage and Jester absolutely loathed them with all his heart, he generally disliked everything his new, second mom just even looked at, especially made or bought. His older brother felt the same, as he often told Jesse, he just didn’t show it as obvious as the younger boy did who tended to tick off because of the simplest of things. It was difficult for the two brothers to adjust to the situation and honestly, they never really wanted to. While Jean only got closed-off and locked himself in his room all the time, Jesse began getting violate, especially towards his younger step-brother whom his second mother adored. Because he bullied him, he always got in conflicts with his new sister, a too overprotective girl for the young boy’s taste. Those were the only moments when he actually felt that his mother noticed him since living in the new house. The two women couldn’t accept his behaviour for long and soon put him into therapy for his "anger issues", as they liked to call it. To their dismay, it didn’t seem to work for a long time, only when Jean left one night without leaving any traces or telling anyone, Jester slowly began opening up to his therapist, but still not to his new family. One day after years of living this terrible fake-perfect life, Jesse met his father again, who got cut off by their mother once they moved out. Slowly the two of them started talking and Jesse got informed that his father found a new job  a few years ago and had a somewhat comfortable life now, just he missed his sons so much. Their mother never told him where she moved to and even changed her number to keep her ex-husband away from her children, thinking he was a bad influence to them. Something whe was right with because the elderly man didn’t stop drinking nor smoking and therefore would have been quite the bad role model. However, Jesse didn’t care, he just wanted to get away from his current life and asked to move in with him. Luckily his dad immediately agreed, now Jester only had to inform his mother about him moving out. Obviously, the woman was less than happy about the news but on the other side, there would probably be a lot less trouble once Jesse moved out of the house. In the end, his mother agreed to her son moving in with his father, but she had a few conditions; Jester had to promise to continue to go to therapy and school and visit her at least once in a week and tell her everything that happened during his week. Even though Jesse thought meeting his mother ever again was terrible, he still agreed, so he could get out of there as fast as possible.

Starter

[mymelodyheart]

Forget Me Not Chapter 2 ~Homeward Bound~

“For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.”

2015

He cocked his head to listen if anyone was in the corridor. Satisfied nobody was about, he cautiously snuck into Claire's old bedroom and shut the door firmly behind him. After carefully placing a vase of forget-me-not flowers on the desk, Jamie noticed not much had changed in her room since she left Lallybroch. On one wall was a massive poster of the world map, on the wooden beam above, hung an assortment of dreamcatchers, and on her bed was a collection of stuff toys he had given her over the years. After a brief glance at the bookshelves filled with classic literature and travel books, his eyes wandered to her dressing table. Slotted in the frames of the mirror were a collection of photos, and they were mostly of him, William and Jenny. He smiled as he peeked at each snapshot, conjuring memories from their childhood. He wished he had a more recent photo of her, but that was one thing Claire never granted him as she was never keen to have her picture taken. Although she was active on social media, most of her posts were images of places she had visited, wildlife, food and the odd time her feet, to show off her new trekking shoes.

Over the years, he thought of her often even in times when he was in relationships. How could he stop thinking of her when Claire would faithfully send postcards, cards during special occasions and made-up occasions, and also ridiculous souvenirs that served no purpose except to clutter his apartment. But he kept every damn thing she had ever sent him. In return, he would send her favourite hardback books with forget-me-not flowers pressed into the pages and occasionally a bottle of single malt whisky so she wouldn't miss home too much. 

Every Christmas and a couple of weeks in summer, Claire would come to visit Lallybroch, but Jamie was never there to see her, for the most part, because those times were his busiest at work in France. And whenever he came home, either she was studying in Switzerland, or she was on some adventure with her backpack in some faraway places. Once, only once they had an opportunity to meet in London airport for their connecting flights when she was bound for Scotland, and he was returning to France. Even that chance meeting went awry when Jamie's flight was delayed departing Edinburgh. But today she was coming home, and it would be the first time they will see each other in six years. This time she was staying for good and so was he. 

..........

"God ah hate regional trains! Are we nearly there yet?" Geillis muttered as she slumped on her seat and stretched her legs in front of her. They have been travelling on the train from London for four hours already. "Remind me again why we took the train instead of flying."

Claire closed her book and sighed at her friend. "If we had booked a flight, we would have had to wait for two more days, and I can't wait that long. All the cheap flights were fully booked, and I wasn't prepared to pay a few extra hundred pounds to fly from city to city. I know how you're feeling, Geillis... I can hardly wait to get there myself. I'm even finding it hard to concentrate on reading, thinking of seeing my family again. God, I've missed them." Looking at her watch, she smiled. "Not long to go now... an hour and a half... more or less." 

In actual fact, she had been thinking of Frank for the most part of the journey, and the thought of him made her stomach do somersaults. Claire had seen him the summer before when she came to visit Lallybroch, and she couldn't forget the appreciative look he had given her way when they met at the local pub. He seemed surprised as if he was seeing her for the very first time. And if her instinct is anything to go by, Claire believed Frank loved what he saw.

"What's with the secret smile, Claire? Is it Frank?" Geillis cheeks dimpled as her lips curled into a puckish smile.

Claire grinned. "You know me too well. Yes, alright yes I've been thinking about him, but I'm also thrilled to be seeing my family again, especially Jamie...I haven't seen him for years. God, I've missed him." She paused as she summoned memories from the past before continuing. "Just between the two of us, Jamie is my favourite out of the three siblings. I love them all, but Jamie is the best. Maybe because we're closest in age and we get along so well. As for Jenny, she used to fuss over me a lot, and when I got older, it became annoying. Well, Willie is great too, but he was always so grown up. He rarely played with me when I was little, but in my teens, he spent more time with me when ma and da were busy in the hotel. On weekends he used to take Jamie and me to movies and such, while Jenny was more interested in staying at home and pottering about. "

Thinking back to her childhood memories, the Fraser family was the greatest gift her uncle Lamb had ever given her. Although Claire felt like an outsider in her school and was often taunted for being English, the love her foster family had for her outweighed the heartaches. Her happiest memories were within Lallybroch and days spent with the Frasers. Even though she lost her parents at such a young age and then later, her uncle Lamb, in her heart and in her mind, despite what her schoolmates made her feel, she was never an orphan.

"Here, hand me yer IPad. Ah want tae see pictures of your folk again, sae ah ken who is who."

Claire shifted seats next to Geillis, and opening her IPad, she tapped into the gallery icon. After a few swipes on the screen, she found what she was looking for. "This one here is the last photo of all of us together under one roof. This was taken before Jamie went to a culinary college in France. I was sixteen here. Willie here was on holiday from his training as a chef in Italy. And Jenny, she's the only one who stayed at home. She never had any interest in the hotel, restaurant or further studies. Though she did go to University in Edinburgh to study Business Management. Da said she was born to be a housewife because she loved running the household and cooking." 

"So you're the youngest? You look sae different in this photo...maybe it's the glasses ye were wearing and your hair was shorter."

"Yes, I'm the youngest. Jamie is now 25, Jenny 28 and Willie is 30. I was the baby then and was spoiled rotten when I first came to Lallybroch. Yea, I got rid of the specs after ma convinced me to wear contact lenses because I kept losing them or breaking them. As for my hair, I realised the curls aren't as wild if I kept my hair longer. I hated my hair back then and wished I had Jenny's straight hair. " Claire swiped past more pictures to a more recent one. "This one is from last year, just the Fraser kids."

"Holy mammy of God, are these Jamie an' Willie? They're sae tall an' Jenny is sae wee. Mmm such good looking lads if ah may say sae."

Claire laughed. "I don't know why Jenny is so small. Everyone else in the family is tall, even ma. Jenny and Willie take more after da with their dark hair and blue eyes. As you can see here, Jamie looks more like ma... he's ginger just like you, but he does have his father's eyes."

"Mmm...Jamie looks scrumptious, and he's more buff than Willie. Is he single? You wouldna mind if ah tried tae angle for a date? Unless of course, ye want him for yersel'"

"Don't be daft! He's my brother...and if he falls for you and ends up marrying you, it's like we're going to be sisters. Now wouldn't that be fab? And yes, he's definitely single. He broke up with his French girlfriend a few months back. He never really liked to discuss his relationships with me, and all I know is that he reckons Frenchie wasn't the right girl for him."

Claire loved Jamie with all her heart, and she had time and again reminded him that he will always be her best friend. He had consistently made her feel special, especially on the night when Frank cancelled their dance date when she was fifteen. He had planned to go with his friends after the dance, but instead, he went with her and Willie, stopping by a gas station to buy a tub of her favourite vanilla ice cream. When they arrived home, they both tucked into their treat sitting on the outside balcony, wrapped in a blanket and looking at the stars. Claire always loved looking at the stars, and she thought it was the most beautiful thing. Then she remembered him saying to her softly as he fed her a spoon of ice cream, "Next time you think of beautiful things, don't forget to count yourself in." 

"So does Jamie have a type?" Geillis asked as she enlarged a photo of Jamie on Claire's IPad.

"Funny you ask that. He always told me he prefers brunettes, but his past two girlfriends were blondes. Blokes are funny that way, aren't they? They say one thing and do another, and yet Jamie always told me women are the most complicated creatures. Tsk, men!"

Geillis closed the IPad and handed it back to Claire. "Weel 'tis braw tae be back in Scotland an' I'm sae glad ah will be workin' wi' ye and yer family. How is yer da tae work for?" Geillis asked, straightening up from her seat to rummage for some snacks in her satchel.

"Oh, da is great, you will love him. I spent summer as a kid doing odd jobs at the hotel...helping in the kitchen, in housekeeping and such. I enjoyed it so much that I proceeded to study Hotel Management instead of nursing."

Claire and Geillis met while fulfilling their apprenticeship in a five-star hotel in Munich, Germany. Once their training came to an end, Geillis had planned to apply for a job in New York hoping Claire would follow suit. But Claire declined as she had promised Brian, her foster father, she would come back to work for Fraser Manor Inn once her studies and training were over. As Geillis was intrigued by the Frasers' hotel and wanted to be closer to her friend, instead of going to New York, she applied for the Front Office position with the help and recommendation from Claire, which Brian Fraser accepted.

Jamie and Willie have returned home to Lallybroch a few months back to help with the preparations for the Grand Opening after the hotel went through a major restoration. It was a pact they all made that they would one day return home to work for the family business. Claire had, at first, wanted to travel to Mexico after her apprenticeship had ended. But since the Grand Opening of the hotel is imminent, she decided to come home earlier than planned.

Fraser Manor Inn, having only thirty rooms, is not by any standard grand but more traditional of the Highlands. The pièce de résistance  of the hotel was the restaurant, and the food was very sought after for its exceptionally high standard in taste, presentation and creativity, promoting Scottish fresh and local produce. The head chef Murtagh Fraser, god-father to all Fraser children had earned the restaurant a Michelin three stars; hence, his cantankerous manner was put up by Brian and Ellen. Working alongside Murtagh in the kitchen would be the Fraser boys; William as the Sous-Chef and Jamie as Chef de Pâtissier.

"Weel, I'll give it a go for a year, and I hope yer da will give me a fantastic certificate tae add tae my resume. When does the hotel re-open?"

"Hopefully before Christmas. So you'll have plenty of time to familiarise yourself with the locals and local delights. Da says you can stay in Lallybroch until you find your own place. Otherwise, he has a couple of apartments for rent...normally he rents them out to staff. It's supposed to be for one of us in case we tire of living in Lallybroch."

"Oh good, plenty of time to get to know the local boys before we start work. Or let's say, plenty of time to get to know yer brothers, " Geillis said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

..........

Jamie and Willie were standing on the platform, waiting for the train to come to a halt and for Jamie, it seemed to take eternally before the screeching and clunking on the beaten old track ceased. The air felt nippy, and although it was only mid-afternoon, it was quickly turning dark. It was a perfect homecoming for Claire, Jamie thought, as autumn was her favourite season. He smiled to himself as he thought of Jenny and his mother preparing Claire's favourite meal of Beef Wellington, thick gravy, roast potatoes and vegetables. Willie had offered to cook, suggesting a more elegant dish, but the Fraser women had shooed him away. Earlier in the day, while nobody was in, Jamie snuck in the kitchen and made Claire's favourite dessert of Raspberry Mille Feuille and Sherry Trifle much to Jenny's annoyance. He had to make it as it was the only request Claire had of him when he asked what she wanted when she came home.

The whoosh of the sliding doors of the train carriages brought Jamie back to the present. As his older brother started to move forward, he followed, looking up and down the platform for a ginger-haired lassie and a curly-haired brunette. There were plenty of people disembarking eager to get off, and others, keen to get on board and out of the cold. The brothers strained their necks watching out for the girls, and it was Willie who saw them first.

"Claire! Over here!" Willie shouted as he started to jog forward.

"Oh my God, Willie...I'm finally home! So good to see you!" Claire squealed as she flung herself to his older brother's arms, while the ginger-haired lass stood back and observed the scene with amusement.

Jamie waited patiently, not wanting to disturb their moment as he leaned on a pillar watching the scene before him. He watched her squeal some more and giggle as Claire introduced Willie to her friend Geillis, babbling and swinging her rucksack onto her back as she went along.   Ah Dhia, she's more beautiful than ever.  Gone was the awkward and shy teenage girl he remembered but instead there stood a bubbly gorgeous young woman full of self-confidence and most importantly, happy to be home.

"Where's Jamie? I thought ma said he was coming with you." Claire asked, looking slightly disappointed.

"Right here, Sassenach," he replied, stepping away from the shadows and opening his arms for an imminent embrace.

She spun around to the direction of his voice, her eyes widening in surprise before her face broke into a most stunning smile he'd ever seen. Gone were her braces and in place were perfectly even teeth. "Jamie!!!" Claire wasted no time and ran up to him.

Jamie lifted her and hugged her tightly as they both laughed and spoke at the same time, of how they missed each other. Jamie didn't let go, and Claire wrapped her legs around his waist to keep her balance, as she rained loud kisses on his cheek. "Fancy a piggyback for ol' times sake?" Jamie suggested, grinning.

Claire nodded her head animatedly, her smile never leaving her face.

Without much effort, Jamie grabbed her hips and shifted her to his back without her feet touching the ground. Once she was safely behind him, her arms around his neck and legs around his middle, Jamie grabbed Claire's duffel back and turned around to his brother. "I'll race ye to the car!" Jamie shouted as he ran off.

Willie laughed at their carry on as he watched Jamie zig-zagged on the platform, Claire's laughter echoing in the air while Geillis face was one of astonishment. "Don't mind them, they've always been like that..." Willie confessed, shaking his head as he chuckled to himself.

"Brother my arse...he's got the hots for her," Geillis muttered to herself, as she watched Jamie and Claire disappeared into the crowd.

"Pardon me...you were saying?" Willie turned to pick up the rest of the bags as he smiled at Geillis.

"Nothing."

"I don't want to race Jamie to the car, but you can tell me how your trip was from London..."

[the-accidentals]

Chapter 1

Laura walked in through the door of her shoddy apartment, the lights flickering on as she slumped down on her stained sofa, she wanted to order takeaway but knew she didn't have the money, life was way to expensive and this week had been a pile of horse shit if any one had been, her car was in the garage after it broke down a couple days ago, the bill was so high she would need to not eat for a month. Before getting off shift today she had seen a family of five burn, only 2 getting out alive, a baby and the father. She tried to not let her job get to her but fighting fires was the easiest part, watching the families as they realise that not everyone made it is the worst, you can feel the guilt in the air. We are trained to move on, you can't take every death personally or it kills you from the inside but whenever i see a family torn apart so abruptly the worry stays on my heart, seeing happy families destroyed was definitely the worst part of her job but laura still loved the job and everyone struggles with it so she just tries to leave the worry at work,but today it followed her home, there was just something about today, the fire had started in the oldests room, probably faulty electrics, she was barely out of primary school, just starting to think she was a grown up, it had already killed the middle kid by the time anyone realised and the mother just breathed in to much smoke, it was come and go for a bit but in the end she didn't even make it to the hospital. A happy family reduced to two, a morning father and a 2 month old girl, how she survived I don't know. All that innocence and such young lives torn away so quickly.

Laura stood up shaking her head, it's not good to stay focused on the bad things, noodles and beer and an early night and she can sort everything else out in the morning.She has parents she can beg for money,they won't be happy but they wont let her starve,she just wishes she didn't have to call. For tonight she resigned herself to the sofa with a bottle of cheap beer and some veg noodles, strolling through the internet. Eventually the sun was long gone and the shame came creeping back, she was sitting here running from her responsibilities with beer, noodles and a blanket around her, just trying to hide away on the internet, she was a grown woman, an adult. She closed down reddit and opened her emails, this was an adult thing, she could clear her inbox. Ad,ad,ad,scam,ad,ad, important thing she should of replied too, she was trying to be grown up but that was slightly too grown up, ad, bank statement, don't want to look at that, oh nice easy one, the unit chief is trying to set up a quiz night, he needs to know when i'm free, i can do that. After a couple minutes of checking her calendar, which was embarrassingly empty she had formed an adult but chill response. There! She had been an adult, she had written an email and deleted a few more. She scanned over the rest hoping they could wait a few more days until a quiet moment at work, one caught her eye, an email from a trial company, she did a couple of studies a few years back to get some extra cash and extra cash was just what she needed, she looked into it, it was a medical study looking into a mental health drug, they needed people with diagnosed mental illness so she knew she would fit right in. Drug trials were not her thing but the pay was pretty good, two injections a week, £50 each, it lasted 12 months but you could leave whenever, just under £5,000 for the whole year, she probably wouldn't hang on that long but long enough that she could fix her beat up honda and still eat. Honestly how could she resist? The testing facility was a 15 minute walk away from the fire station as well. Fuck me if was perefect, no nagging from anyone about “being an adult” and “looking after your finances”. Laura finally went to bed that night, slightly tipsy, exhausted but slightly less stressed.

Laura had 2 days until she got paid and she had her first appointment for the trial today, it was a rolling study so there was no set start date. She had promised steve, the mechanic down the road, that he would get paid the bill as soon as she got paid so that he would carry on working with no money upfront, to be honest he totally owned lorna one, she had set him up with an ex of hers about a year back and she had never seen him happier. She walked up to a little privately owned clinic that she had never noticed before, it was smart but felt way to clinical, the lights were so bright it burnt and like all of these places the smell of cleaner was so strong you could taste it, she popped her phone into the pocket of her oversized jacket as she came to the front desk, the lady at the desk looked he up and down, I suppose she didn't really look like she belonged, it didn't look like a cheap sort of place.” hi i'm here for the trial, umm laura burmwell” laura muttered into the ground,she hated reception staff, they always seemed super judgy and this lady was no different, she tapped away at her screen for a few very awkward moments and sighed, pointing me to a section of chairs near the back. Pulling her earphones out she landed in a seat.

“Dont worry she wasn't very nice to me either” a voice chucked next to her, a small grinning woman sat there tapping on her phone, laura smiled back, she was gorgeous, long black hair down to her waist, out shining laura’s dirty blonde mess any day.

“ I’m glad she doesn't just hate me” Lorna joked, internally panicking. Why is such a cute woman actually talking to me? She suddenly felt amazingly underdressed, she was sat next to a stunning women who was clearly ready to go to work in a nice yellow dress and a jacket and she is there look like a gay hobo, hair up in yesterdays bun and a t shirt that has dinosaurs on it, at she is wearing smartish jeans. “I’m laura, are you here for the study?” she smiled.

“Preet, yeah, i'm hoping they can cure the fuckery going on in my head before the end of it” she chuckled but I could see the blush forming over her skin as she processed what she had said, Laura just snorted, tapping her leg on the linoleum floor, trying to think of something to say, her mind in overdrive.

“ nervous?” Preet questioned.

“i just haven't been in a drug trial for years, what if I grow four heads or something?” She joked, Preet actually burst out laughing, tears starting to form in her eyes, which got Laura laughing too, they just sat there trying to hide there laughter from the rest of the very serious looking members of the waiting room, finally after about 5 minutes they both calmed down enough to speak, laughter still glistening in their eyes.

“ but seriously these drugs will of been tested for years before it gets to these sorts of tests, its perfectly safe, they are just proving it and checking out side effects, im sure you wont grow any more heads.” At that moment Preets name was called over the speaker system, Secretly both of them were hoping they had been forgotten about so they could sit here and chat all day but neither of them said it.

“See you later Laura” Preet called as she picked up her stuff and started to follow the now waiting nurse.

Lorna went back to her music, trying to pull a stupid grin off her face.

1941- September 5th

I walked into surgery, on the bench was the patient, a young soldier, barley 19. He was burning up. Nurse Weber was standing there, trying to cool him down while setting up. He had a gun wound that was starting to get infected and the bullet had yet been removed. We set to work, removing infected tissue and finding bits of the shattered bullet but further we got the more futile it became, he kept losing blood and nothing we could do would keep his temperature down, he was pretty much dead in front of us. The nurse looked up, exhaustion in every wrinkle in her face, defeat in her eyes, im sure she had been on duty when he came on, over 10 hours earlier. With an air of defect I started sawing him up, giving him a dose of penicillin and covering the wound with gauze. I doubt he would make the night but we had tried. I removed my bloodied gloves and left. Hoping to be able to rest now. My eyes started over at the dying children and men who fill the halls. when will the war end, when will the suffering stop, have not enough died for the righteous cause? I started towards the boards, I was still on duty for another few days before I could head home. As i passed through the corridors i passed a officer asking about his son, every has someone fighting in this war to end all wars, he came to a halt in front of me desperately asking for his sons conduction, i had treated him when he first got brought in, he was going to make it but he no longer had a left leg, a bomb had hit near trench and had impaled his leg. As he quickly dismissed me, relief clear on his face, you could clearly see the shine on his Swastika pin. “Heil Hitler” I murmured as he marched away into the chaos

This is the first part of a longer story and my first time doing any serious writing, any advice welcome! I know it isn't perfect but I tried so I hope you enjoy it xx

[yeniayofnymeria]

Arya Stark and Valkyrie

(It’s not my theory but i need to share. It’s really interesting subject.  It's really long but I promise, it's worth reading. )

I have a crackpot theory that the FM have some prophecy or at least some recruitment profile regarding a rare girl with Valkyrie-like abilities or role. The Red priests of R'hllor have their prophecy of Azor Ahai reborn and the Targaryens have the Prince that was Promised. There is the legend of the Last Hero about the Long Night that belongs to Westerosi First Men beliefs. But they are not the sole factions and societies and orders in the books that may have some sort of prophecy about a special person. I think the FM have a secret prophecy that fits Arya's profile. And I even go as far as to propose this prophecy is based on the identity of the First FM - a woman and not a man, who served the slaves as some nurse with food and drink. That's how she knew their prayers and was able to administer them the poison to help them die. And one of the sayings in the books is that poison is a woman's weapon.

What are Valkyries in mythology?

Valkyrie = "chooser of the slain". (meaning of the word)

Original Valkyries

Originally these were woman who were Odin’s helpers on the battle field. To prepare for Ragnarok, warriors needed to be picked amongst the slain to be able to fight for Odin in the final battle. These warriors would prepare and live in Walhalla, awaiting Ragnarok. The other warriors went to Freya’s Folkvangr. Valkyries were armed and wore armor, but they were not female warriors. Instead they surveyed the battle and then picked half of the slain men to go to Walhalla. These original Valkyries were old hags, ogresses and ugly women. And when there was no battle they served the fallen warriors in Walhalla as cupbearers.

Norns

These were the Norse version of the Greek fates, except there were many more Norns than just three. The good fairies and Malificent of the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty are some of the modern remaining leftover over beliefs in Norns. They could decide about the different fates for the whole course of a newborn's life (male and female).

Later Valkyries

In time Valkyries became beautiful maidens heroes could fall in love with. Who can blame the Norse for wanting to be served by beautiful maidens in Walhalla, instead of old hags, huh? Aside from maidenhood and beauty, they also gained certain Nornlike powers. Instead of just deciding which afterlife the slain of a battlefield could go to, the Valkyries gained the actual power to decide who would live and and who would die in war and battles, and therefore had the ultimate decision over which side would win a battle or war. Normally they would do this in concordance with Odin's will - they knew which side Odin favored. Because of this, battles would end up being dedicated to the Valkyrie believed to supervise the battle for Odin.

Some extra special powers: One Valkyrie had resurrection powers (Hildr), which resulted in an everlasting battle where the slain were revived every night so the battle would commence in the morning (for both sides of the battle were loved by Hildr). And another was more of a trickster who used potions to make a hero forget certain events and offer him advice to start a war (Gondul).

Summary of Valkyrie aspects

They are "choosers of the slain"

serve as cupbearers on their time "off"

beautiful young women

battles/fights get dedicated to them, though they do not actively participate

serve a person or order with Odin hints

believed to know a god's will when it comes to who's supposed to die, live, win or lose and make it come to pass with supernatural powers

Valkyrie aspects featured in Arya's FM arc

From the start of Arya's interaction with Jaqen we find hints of him either testing or pushing Arya to have her serve as a 'cupbearer' as well as empower her as a 'chooser of the slain'

One of the men in irons was talking to her. Warily, Arya approached the wagon, one hand on Needle's hilt.

The prisoner lifted an empty tankard, his chains rattling. "A man could use another taste of beer. A man has a thirst, wearing these heavy bracelets."

...

"A man must be ashamed of the company he keeps, Arry," the handsome one said. "This man has the honor to be Jaqen H'ghar, once of the Free City of Lorath. Would that he were home. This man's ill-bred companions in captivity are named Rorge"—he waved his tankard at the noseless man—"and Biter." Biter hissed at her again, displaying a mouthful of yellowed teeth filed into points. "A man must have some name, is that not so? Biter cannot speak and Biter cannot write, yet his teeth are very sharp, so a man calls him Biter and he smiles. Are you charmed?"Arya backed away from the wagon. "No." They can't hurt me, she told herself, they're all chained up.He turned his tankard upside down. "A man must weep." (aCoK, Arya II)

Jaqen's first interaction is to ask Arya for beer, lifting his tankard. If she does that, she acts symbolically as his "cupbearer". Doing this for a prisoner/criminal is a hint he's testing her for empathy. He tries to persuade her to overlook Rorge's and Biter's behaviour, but she steps back and does not give him a drink.

The next time he textually adresses her (aside from thanking her for the treat of a spoon of rabbit) he asks her to free him and whether it is war

Before they could hoot her down again, the sound came shuddering through the night—only it was no wolf this time, it was Kurz blowing his hunting horn, sounding danger. In a heartbeat, all of them were pulling on clothes and snatching for whatever weapons they owned. Arya ran for the gate as the horn sounded again. As she dashed past the barn, Biter threw himself furiously against his chains, and Jaqen H'ghar called out from the back of their wagon. "Boy! Sweet boy! Is it war, red war? Boy, free us. A man can fight. Boy!" She ignored him and plunged on. By then she could hear horses and shouts beyond the wall. (aCoK, Arya IV)

So, the two first times Jaqen adresses Arya it's to have a drink, or to fight. Hmmm.... She frees them when all is lost and they must run, and the threesome is in danger of being burned alive.

QuoteJaqen saw her, but it was too hard to breathe, let alone talk. She threw the axe into the wagon. Rorge caught it and lifted it over his head, rivers of sooty sweat pouring down his noseless face. Arya was running, coughing. She heard the steel crash through the old wood, and again, again. An instant later came a crack as loud as thunder, and the bottom of the wagon came ripping loose in an explosion of splinters. (aCoK, Arya IV)

At Harrenhal she works under Weese, and later under Pinkeye, and part of her job is "serving" drinks.

QuoteWeese used Arya to run messages, draw water, and fetch food, and sometimes to serve at table in the Barracks Hall above the armory, where the men-at-arms took their meals. (aCoK, Arya VII)

Jaqen, Rorge and Biter join Amory's forces, while separately Arya, Gendry and Hot Pie are caught by the Mountain's men and marched to Harrenhal. During the march Arya starts to pray her list, which she recites nightly. We can regard her list/prayer as her marking people for death. She starts to become a "chooser of the slain". She's already a while in Harrenhal when Ser Amory returns and Arya discovers the three have joined Ser Amory. Rorge and Biter do not see her, Jaqen does, although he pretends he didn't.

I should have let the fire have them. Gendry said to, I should have listened. If she hadn't thrown them that axe they'd all be dead. For a moment she was afraid, but they rode past her without a flicker of interest. Only Jaqen H'ghar so much as glanced in her direction, and his eyes passed right over her. He does not know me, she thought.

She spent the rest of that day scrubbing steps inside the Wailing Tower. By evenfall her hands were raw and bleeding and her arms so sore they trembled when she lugged the pail back to the cellar. Too tired even for food, Arya begged Weese's pardons and crawled into her straw to sleep. "Weese," she yawned. "Dunsen, Chiswyck, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Gregor, Ser Amory, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei." She thought she might add three more names to her prayer, but she was too tired to decide tonight. (aCoK, Arya VII)

Remember that FM are good in spying. It is not farfetched for Jaqen to have investigated Arya, and overhear her prayer. But very remarkable about her prayer is that she does not offer a sacrifice or price for it. That same night Jaqen wakes her.

QuoteJaqen H'ghar took his hand away. The cellar was black as pitch and she could not see his face, even inches away. She could smell him, though; his skin smelled clean and soapy, and he had scented his hair. "A boy becomes a girl," he murmured."I was always a girl. I didn't think you saw me.""A man sees. A man knows."She remembered that she hated him. "You scared me. You're one of them now, I should have let you burn. What are you doing here? Go away or I'll yell for Weese.""A man pays his debts. A man owes three.""Three?""The Red God has his due, sweet girl, and only death may pay for life. This girl took three that were his. This girl must give three in their places. Speak the names, and a man will do the rest."He wants to help me, Arya realized with a rush of hope that made her dizzy. "Take me to Riverrun, it's not far, if we stole some horses we could—"He laid a finger on her lips. "Three lives you shall have of me. No more, no less. Three and we are done. So a girl must ponder." He kissed her hair softly. "But not too long." (aCoK, Arya VII) The voice startled her. She leapt to her feet and drew her wooden sword. Jaqen H'ghar stood so still in the darkness that he seemed one of the trees. "A man comes to hear a name. One and two and then comes three. A man would have done."Arya lowered the splintery point toward the ground. "How did you know I was here?""A man sees. A man hears. A man knows." ... "Some men have many names. Weasel. Arry. Arya."She backed away from him, until she was pressed against the heart tree. "Did Gendry tell?""A man knows," he said again. "My lady of Stark." (aCoK, Arya IX)

Jaqen could not have known her name directly from Gendry. But he could have overheard her shout "Winterfell" just as Hot Pie did during the battle at the holdfast at the Gods Eye, or overheard the conversation where Gendry warns her how he covered for her when Hot Pie wondered about her shouting that, or oeverheard Hot Pie asking Gendry directly about it. There are three occasion where Jaqen could have heard and seen Arya's tie to Winterfell. Her name Arry and the name Winterfell do not make it hard for him to deduce she's Arya Stark of Winterfell.

But we can already conclude that Jaqen seems very interested in Arya in particular, in a manner he is not interested at all in others. He showed that interest on KR already, before the Gold Cloaks arrived (who ironically enough for once instantly reocgnized her as a girl). So, he offered her the three names. This is actually quite a lot. Supposedly the reasoning is that she saved 3 lives, and so 3 must die for balance. But the sole price for 3 names was throwing an axe into the cage. They basically still had to save themselves. She can choose any 3 names she wants, including a queen regent and a king. Quite a bargain isn't it? She isn't even required to go to the HoBaW for him to kill even one of those of names. In theory she could have said, "Tywin Lannister, Queen Cersei, King Joffrey." She has some high profile targets on her list, and Jaqen was willing to do them. She gives the name Chyswick and Weese, and then realizes she should make the last one count. Vargo Hoat brings in the Northern prisoners, Gendry doesn't want to help, she blows off steam in the godswood with her stick and Jaqen tells her he wants a third name.

QuoteHe looked down at her pitilessly. "Three lives were snatched from a god. Three lives must be repaid. The gods are not mocked." His voice was silk and steel."I never mocked." She thought for a moment. "The name . . . can I name anyone? And you'll kill him?"Jaqen H'ghar inclined his head. "A man has said.""Anyone?" she repeated. "A man, a woman, a little baby, or Lord Tywin, or the High Septon, or your father?""A man's sire is long dead, but did he live, and did you know his name, he would die at your command.""Swear it," Arya said. "Swear it by the gods.""By all the gods of sea and air, and even him of fire, I swear it." He placed a hand in the mouth of the weirwood. "By the seven new gods and the old gods beyond count, I swear it."He has sworn. "Even if I named the king . . .""Speak the name, and death will come. On the morrow, at the turn of the moon, a year from this day, it will come. A man does not fly like a bird, but one foot moves and then another and one day a man is there, and a king dies." He knelt beside her, so they were face-to-face. "A girl whispers if she fears to speak aloud. Whisper it now. Is it Joffrey?"Arya put her lips to his ear. "It's Jaqen H'ghar."Even in the burning barn, with walls of flame towering all around and him in chains, he had not seemed so distraught as he did now. "A girl . . . she makes a jest."

At first read it seems Jaqen simply wants to be done with the 3 name business and continue on his way to do his "real" duty. However, this is actually a deception on Jaqen's part. He in fact knows the Bloody Mummers intend to turn their cloak and massacre Ser Amory's men (and he is one of Ser Amory's men) and that the Wolf banners will fly on Harrenhal by the next day. It is war. A battle there will be. He hints that he knows this when he says, "A man hears the whisper of sand in a glass." But keeps this information hidden from Arya until the fights and massacres break out in the yard, after the weasel soup action. So, time is of the essence. If she wants to go with him to Braavos, it must be now, for perhaps the next day Robb's bannermen may recognize her. And if she does not want to come with him, she will be safe, but he has no wish to be targeted by the Bloody Mummers, or Robb's bannermen. Hence he must have the 3rd name now to complete his deal with her. Note how he sounds like salivating almost over her third name possibly being Joffrey. But she gives his name instead. She extorts Jaqen into helping her by giving him his name. Yes, he swore by all the gods, including for him the Many Faced God. But if he regards her as some type of "chooser of the slain" his distress at her giving him his own name would indeed be even more upsetting. This would mark him for death in the eye of the gods (and she does this in the godswood). He says he will not sleep until she unsays his name.

Jaqen's smile came and went. "A girl might . . . name another name then, if a friend did help?""A girl might," she said. "If a friend did help."The knife vanished. "Come.""Now?" She had never thought he would act so quickly."A man hears the whisper of sand in a glass. A man will not sleep until a girl unsays a certain name. Now, evil child." 

So, he orders her to make broth, and later appears with Biter and Rorge to fetch the broth. Jaqen makes a point of it to have her present as a witness, and dedicates the weasel soup action to her, by smearing his bloodied sword on her shirt. And while he dedicates it to her, he does not want her participate in the fight.

Biter licked the grease and honey off his fingers as Jaqen H'ghar donned a pair of heavy padded mitts. He gave a second pair to Arya. "A weasel will help." 

...

Inside the door a winding stair led down to the dungeons. Rorge led the way, with Jaqen and Arya bringing up the rear. "A girl will stay out of the way," he told her.

...

"Fuck, we need bowls, cups, spoons—

""No you don't." Rorge heaved the scalding hot broth across the table, full in their faces. Jaqen H'ghar did the same. Biter threw his kettles too, swinging them underarm so they spun across the dungeon, raining soup. One caught the captain in the temple as he tried to rise. He went down like a sack of sand and lay still. The rest were screaming in agony, praying, or trying to crawl off.

Arya pressed back against the wall as Rorge began to cut throats. Biter preferred to grab the men behind the head and under the chin and crack their necks with a single twist of his huge pale hands. Only one of the guards managed to get a blade out. Jaqen danced away from his slash, drew his own sword, drove the man back into a corner with a flurry of blows, and killed him with a thrust to the heart. The Lorathi brought the blade to Arya still red with heart's blood and wiped it clean on the front of her shift. "A girl should be bloody too. This is her work."

...

"This of the soup, that was clever," the man Glover was saying. "I did not expect that. Was it Lord Hoat's idea?"

...

"This man has the honor to be Jaqen H'ghar, once of the Free City of Lorath. This man's discourteous companions are named Rorge and Biter. A lord will know which is Biter." He waved a hand toward Arya. 

"And here—"

"I'm Weasel," she blurted, before he could tell who she really was. She did not want her name said here, where Rorge might hear, and Biter, and all these others she did not know.

She saw Glover dismiss her. "Very well," he said. "Let's make an end to this bloody business."When they climbed back up the winding stair, they found the door guards lying in pools of their own blood. Northmen were running across the ward. Arya heard shouts. The door of Barracks Hall burst open and a wounded man staggered out screaming. Three others ran after him and silenced him with spear and sword. There was fighting around the gatehouse as well. Rorge and Biter rushed off with Glover, but Jaqen H'ghar knelt beside Arya. "A girl does not understand?"

"Yes I do," she said, though she didn't, not truly.

The Lorathi must have seen it on her face. "A goat has no loyalty. Soon a wolf banner is raised here, I think. But first a man would hear a certain name unsaid."

She has served, she has chosen the slain, she chose a side in a battle and forced him to help fight for her chosen side. With the battle over, Jaqen has her unname him, changes his face, offers her to go with him to teach it, but when she refuses he gives her the coin, and teaches her the words, before he departs.

Not only Jaqen dedicates the Harrenhal switch to Arya. Shagwell (a singer/poet) does too, and many other people, including servants. Of course, Vargo Hoat would have switched sides anyway, but people regard her as the one who decided the battle for the Mummers and the Northerners.

All morning she watched the Bloody Mummers strip the dead of their valuables and drag the corpses to the Flowstone Yard, where a pyre was laid to dispose of them. Shagwell the Fool hacked the heads off two dead knights and pranced about the castle swinging them by the hair and making them talk. "What did you die of?" one head asked. "Hot weasel soup," replied the second.

Arya was set to mopping up dried blood. No one said a word to her beyond the usual, but every so often she would notice people looking at her strangely. Robett Glover and the other men they'd freed must have talked about what had happened down in the dungeon, and then Shagwell and his stupid talking heads started in about the weasel soup. ...

Vargo Hoat came forward. "My lord, Harrenhal ith yourth."The lord gave answer, but too softly for Arya to hear. Robett Glover and Ser Aenys Frey, freshly bathed and clad in clean new doublets and cloaks, came up to join them. After some brief talk, Ser Aenys led them over to Rorge and Biter. Arya was surprised to see them still here; somehow she would have expected them to vanish when Jaqen did. Arya heard the harsh sound of Rorge's voice, but not what he was saying. Then Shagwell pounced on her, dragging her out across the yard. "My lord, my lord," he sang, tugging at her wrist, "here's the weasel who made the soup!" ...

"My squire could take a lesson from you, it would seem. Frequent leechings are the secret of a long life. A man must purge himself of bad blood. You will do, I think. For so long as I remain at Harrenhal, Nan, you shall be my cupbearer, and serve me at table and in chambers."

And finally, Lord Bolton makes her his official cupbearer. The serving of drink reoccurs several times more after this, often combined with death.

With the men in the crow cages and Stoney Sept, when Lem and Gendry help her up, before Anguy puts them out of their mysery with his arrows.

With the man of Pinkmaiden, before Sandor gives him the gift of mercy and puts the dagger through his heart

With Sandor, as he begs her for the gift of mercy. She gives him the water, but refuses to give him the gift of mercy, possibly thereby choosing him to live on as the gravedigger on the Quiet Isle.

With the bravo at the pool in the HoBaW when she enters for the first time. She sees him at the pool, reaching. Takes the cup and fills it with the poisoned water and gives it to him. Thereby personally giving him the gift of mercy, completely unaware of it. As her first act within the HoBaW with the waif and KM nearby, watching her no doubt, this must speak volumes to their minds. She could have drunk from the cup herself or inspect the bravo first and cry for help instead. But her first act was to give him the gift of mercy.

Inside the HoBaW she serves as a cupbearer to the FM during their meetings.

The bars were too narrow to pass a cup through, but Harwin and Gendry offered her a leg up. She planted a foot in Harwin's cupped hands, vaulted onto Gendry's shoulders, and grabbed the bars on top of the cage. The fat man turned his face up and pressed his cheek to the iron, and Arya poured the water over him. He sucked at it eagerly and let it run down over his head and cheeks and hands, and then he licked the dampness off the bars. He would have licked Arya's fingers if she hadn't snatched them back. By the time she served the other two the same, a crowd had gathered to watch her. "The Mad Huntsman will hear of this," a man threatened. "He won't like it. No, he won't."

"He'll like this even less, then." Anguy strung his longbow, slid an arrow from his quiver, nocked, drew, loosed. The fat man shuddered as the shaft drove up between his chins, but the cage would not let him fall. Two more arrows ended the other two northmen. The only sound in the market square was the splash of falling water and the buzzing of flies.

Valar morghulis, Arya thought. (aSoS, Arya V)

...

They had passed a small pond a short ways back. Sandor gave Arya his helm and told her to fill it, so she trudged back to the water's edge. Mud squished over the toe of her boots. She used the dog's head as a pail. Water ran out through the eyeholes, but the bottom of the helm still held a lot.

When she came back, the archer turned his face up and she poured the water into his mouth. He gulped it down as fast as she could pour, and what he couldn't gulp ran down his cheeks into the brown blood that crusted his whiskers, until pale pink tears dangled from his beard. When the water was gone he clutched the helm and licked the steel. "Good," he said. "I wish it was wine, though. I wanted wine."

"Me too." The Hound eased his dagger into the man's chest almost tenderly, the weight of his body driving the point through his surcoat, ringmail, and the quilting beneath. As he slid the blade back out and wiped it on the dead man, he looked at Arya. "That's where the heart is, girl. That's how you kill a man." (aSoS, Arya XII)

...

Long before noon, Sandor Clegane was reeling. There were hours of daylight still remaining when he called a halt. "I need to rest," was all he said. This time when he dismounted he did fall. Instead of trying to get back up he crawled weakly under a tree, and leaned up against the trunk. "Bloody hell," he cursed. "Bloody hell." When he saw Arya staring at him, he said, "I'd skin you alive for a cup of wine, girl.”

She brought him water instead. He drank a little of it, complained that it tasted of mud, and slid into a noisy fevered sleep. When she touched him, his skin was burning up. Arya sniffed at his bandages the way Maester Luwin had done sometimes when treating her cut or scrape. His face had bled the worst, but it was the wound on his thigh that smelled funny to her. (aSoS, Arya XIII)

...

In the center of the temple she found the water she had heard; a pool ten feet across, black as ink and lit by dim red candles. Beside it sat a young man in a silvery cloak, weeping softly. She watched him dip a hand in the water, sending scarlet ripples racing across the pool. When he drew his fingers back he sucked them, one by one. He must be thirsty. There were stone cups along the rim of the pool. Arya filled one and brought it to him, so he could drink. The young man stared at her for a long moment when she offered it to him. "Valar morghulis," he said."Valar dohaeris," she replied. (aFfC, Arya I)

...

One time the fat fellow and the squinter came together. Umma sent Arya to pour for them. "When you are not pouring, you must stand as still as if you had been carved of stone," the kindly man told her. "Can you do that?"

"Yes." Before you can learn to move you must learn to be still, Syrio Forel had taught her long ago at King's Landing, and she had. She had served as Roose Bolton's cupbearer at Harrenhal, and he would flay you if you spilled his wine.

"Good," the kindly man said. "It would be best if you were blind and deaf as well. You may hear things, but you must let them pass in one ear and out the other. Do not listen." (aFfC, Arya II) 

Note: when she gives the bravo the sweetwater, the door was opened for her, but there was no one there to welcome her or guide her. She's a 10 year old child wandering into a hall with a pool of poisoned water. It seems strange and especially unsafe that they would let a child wander around into such a dangerous place, towards a pool that looks like water to the uninformed - a pool with stone cups along the rim of the pool to lavish thirst. Arya could have drunken from a cup herself. Or she could have inspected the bravo first and cried for help for his wounds. But she did exactly what the man was there for - the gift of mercy in a cup of sweetsleep poison - without even knowing it. Immediately after this the waif and the kindly man show up and approach her. They must have been watching her.  She chooses for Dareon to die. While initially it seems to Arya that she's punished for this by being made blind, in fact we know this is not punishment, but speeding up her training. In a way she's rewarded for the act.

"Just so," said the kindly man. "And the third thing?"

This time she did not hesitate. "Dareon is dead. The black singer who was sleeping at the Happy Port. He was really a deserter from the Night's Watch. Someone slit his throat and pushed him into a canal, but they kept his boots."

"Good boots are hard to find."

...

He turned to the waif. "My throat is dry. Do me a kindness and bring a cup of wine for me and warm milk for our friend Arya, who has returned to us so unexpectedly."

On her way across the city Arya had wondered what the kindly man would say when she told him about Dareon. Maybe he would be angry with her, or maybe he would be pleased that she had given the singer the gift of the Many-Faced God. She had played this talk out in her head half a hundred times, like a mummer in a show. But she had never thought warm milk.When the milk came, Arya drank it down. It smelled a little burnt and had a bitter aftertaste. "Go to bed now, child," the kindly man said. "On the morrow you must serve."(aFfC, Cat of the Canals)

Summary of Valkyrie elements in Arya's FM

"chooser of the slain"

cupbearer

the battle for Harrenhal gets dedicated to her

female

she is not supposed to participate in fights

FM and Valkyries

So,on the one hand we have Arya showing Valkyrie features in her arc, but this could either be symbolically done by GRRM, or it may be features the FM are looking for. Long before Harrenhal, before Arya has a list to mark people who should die in her opinion, Jaqen asks her to give him a drink and to free him referring to war, in other words he's pushing for the "cupbearer" and "battle" aspects then. And at the HoBaW, her first act is to be the bravo's cupbearer, which prompts the kindly man to approach her in his skull-face, while her "choice to slay" Dareon moves her training up. So, the "cupbearer" + "chooser of the slain" elements is what they test for and respond to. So the FM are definitely looking for those elements in a profile.

The cupbearing element serves a sense of inner humility as well as empathy. It requires a high deal of empathy and humility to give a dangerous criminal in a cage a drink. You won't do this, unless you recognize at heart that basically we are all humans. On the other hand it requires a marked sense of justice as well as confidence in it to put a list of names together marked for death: murderers, rapists, thieves, abusers, liars, deserters, and the truly monstrous end up there. Only two of them have hurt her directly (Weese, Polliver), three hurt her father, some her friends, but there are also those who hurt strangers to her (the Mountain, the Tyckler, Chyswick, Dareon). That Arya's list goes beyond personal harm shows Arya's list is less about personal revenge, and more about justice. So, the FM are looking for an empathic person with a marked sense of justice, and a rather egalitarian sentiment.

[special note: personally I'm not a proponent of the death penalty, on the contrary, and I am glad to be living in a country and of a union where the death penalty has long been scrapped out of constitution]

The gift of mercy

These are not the characteristics we tend to associate with hired assassins, hired to execute the job. Of course, nobody expected the Faceless Men to engage in assisted suicide either. More, the number of people they help with assisted suicide is far greater than the number of people they are hired to assassinate. And it is actually their first cause of origin.

"The tale of our beginnings. If you would be one of us, you had best know who we are and how we came to be. Men may whisper of the Faceless Men of Braavos, but we are older than the Secret City. Before the Titan rose, before the Unmasking of Uthero, before the Founding, we were. We have flowered in Braavos amongst these northern fogs, but we first took root in Valyria, amongst the wretched slaves who toiled in the deep mines beneath the Fourteen Flames that lit the Freehold's nights of old. Most mines are dank and chilly places, cut from cold dead stone, but the Fourteen Flames were living mountains with veins of molten rock and hearts of fire. So the mines of old Valyria were always hot, and they grew hotter as the shafts were driven deeper, ever deeper. The slaves toiled in an oven. The rocks around them were too hot to touch. The air stank of brimstone and would sear their lungs as they breathed it. The soles of their feet would burn and blister, even through the thickest sandals. Sometimes, when they broke through a wall in search of gold, they would find steam instead, or boiling water, or molten rock. Certain shafts were cut so low that the slaves could not stand upright, but had to crawl or bend. And there were wyrms in that red darkness too."

...

"Didn't the slaves rise up and fight?"

"Some did," he said. "Revolts were common in the mines, but few accomplished much. The dragonlords of the old Freehold were strong in sorcery, and lesser men defied them at their peril. The first Faceless Man was one who did."

"Who was he?" Arya blurted, before she stopped to think.

"No one," he answered. "Some say he was a slave himself. Others insist he was a freeholder's son, born of noble stock. Some will even tell you he was an overseer who took pity on his charges. The truth is, no one knows. Whoever he was, he moved amongst the slaves and would hear them at their prayers. Men of a hundred different nations labored in the mines, and each prayed to his own god in his own tongue, yet all were praying for the same thing. It was release they asked for, an end to pain. A small thing, and simple. Yet their gods made no answer, and their suffering went on. Are their gods all deaf? he wondered . . . until a realization came upon him, one night in the red darkness."All gods have their instruments, men and women who serve them and help to work their will on earth. The slaves were not crying out to a hundred different gods, as it seemed, but to one god with a hundred different faces . . . and he was that god's instrument. That very night he chose the most wretched of the slaves, the one who had prayed most earnestly for release, and freed him from his bondage. The first gift had been given."Arya drew back from him. "He killed the slave?" That did not sound right. "He should have killed the masters!"

"He would bring the gift to them as well . . . but that is a tale for another day, one best shared with no one."(aFfC, Arya II)

The gift of mercy was the origin of the FM. It requires empathy, humanism and a mind free from religious dogma for a person to come to such a conclusion and help people find freedom from agony and pain in death. This was someone with the ability to freely move amongst the slaves, witness their ordeal, hear their prayers, day and night. It was someone who seemed to have no special belief in one of the hundred gods prayed to, but instead recognized that all those gods were actually the one and the same - death. It sounds like an agnostic, who came to regard death as a god, and death is egalitarian, since everybody dies - rich, poor, sick, healthy, happy, miserable, handsome, ugly, old, young, the worst, the best, men and women.

The cupbearing element is heavily associated with the gift of mercy, bothin Arya's arc as well as the FM's practice of assisted suicide. Poison is their main weapon - both for assassination as assisted suicide - and poison is said to be "a woman's weapon". This is why I think the First was not a "he", but a "she". This was a free woman, most likely learned and of highborn religious liberal upbringing who served in the mines as a nurse or medical assistant, with knowledge on poisons, pain relief and daily confronted with the inability to save the afflicted, while overhearing the prayers for death. Such a person would far more likely come to the conclusions the First made - to become the instrument that gives the gift of mercy. In religion "an angel of death" is often male, but it is often the title given to female, serial killing nurses.

Targets of assassination

I killed Cat when I killed that singer. The kindly man had told her that they would have taken her eyes from her anyway, to help her to learn to use her other senses, but not for half a year. Blind acolytes were common in the House of Black and White, but few as young as she. The girl was not sorry, though. Dareon had been a deserter from the Night's Watch; he had deserved to die.

"And are you a god, to decide who should live and who should die?" he asked her. "We give the gift to those marked by Him of Many Faces, after prayers and sacrifice. So has it always been, from the beginning. I have told you of the founding of our order, of how the first of us answered the prayers of slaves who wished for death. The gift was given only to those who yearned for it, in the beginning … but one day, the first of us heard a slave praying not for his own death but for his master's. So fervently did he desire this that he offered all he had, that his prayer might be answered. And it seemed to our first brother that this sacrifice would be pleasing to Him of Many Faces, so that night he granted the prayer. Then he went to the slave and said, 'You offered all you had for this man's death, but slaves have nothing but their lives. That is what the god desires of you. For the rest of your days on earth, you will serve him.' And from that moment, we were two." His hand closed around her arm, gently but firmly. "All men must die. We are but death's instruments, not death himself. When you slew the singer, you took god's powers on yourself. We kill men, but we do not presume to judge them. Do you understand?" (aDwD, Blind Beth)

This paragraph is what often leads to people concluding that FM assassinate anyone for the right price, regardless of the target's morality, innocense and crimes. But that conclusion does not follow the story of the First's assassination of the slave master.

Let us being by examining the story of the First:

A slave prayed for a slave master's death, some time after the beginning where only those who yearned for the gift of mercy were killed, and offered a sacrifice (all he had).

The First thought this prayer and sacrifice would be pleasing to the god of death

Hence, the First considered the slave master marked by death and killed the slave master.

Did the First ever hear the Many Faced God whisper "that one", or saw it in a vision of flames? No. The First "thought it would please the god". The First and the FM regard themselves as the god's instruments who know what would please the god of death and simultaneously what would not please the god. So, in fact, the First and the FM are the ones who "decide" who dies and who lives.

But how does that mesh with "not judging them"? This is in reference to Arya having said to the kindly man that Dareon "deserved" to die. The kindly man is telling Arya that the mark of death comes from an intuition that would please the god of death, rather than using human laws or rationale of "deserving" death. The order is assumed to have an intuitive link with the god. And that is exactly what a Valkyrie is supposed to be. A Valkyrie doesn't go to a battle with a death-list handed by Odin. They just "know". The most famous Valkyrie is Brynhilde of the Nibelungenlied (the legends and stories on which Wagner based his 3-part opera). Brynhilde had agreed to side with a mortal man at every one of his battles. However, with one battle, she knew Odin wanted the other side to win, and she still made that man win the battle, going against Odin's wish. Odin punished her by making her a mortal woman, a shieldmaiden. She was a "fallen" Valkyrie.

So, the kindly man's message is not "we assassinate anyone for the right price", but "we assassinate those we know the god wants to die by assassination." And what he's warning against is the hubris of overriding the god's will they serve, but not necessarily saying she was wrong in regarding Dareon as being marked for death. After all, they sped up her training by at least half a year for Dareon's murder, which basically means in choice and actions at least, the kindly man sanctions Arya's choice. The blindness also serves as a type of "sacrifice", in exchange for the murder, even though the sacrifice was only temporarily and gained her more awareness than she had before.

With the insurance man she's trying to convince herself with all sorts of silly reasons he deserves to die. The KM does not want her to use such reasoning. And yet he gives her enough background info on the man - that he cons hard working captains, who put their live savings in their cargo and ship, out of their money and puts widows and their children out on the street to beg by refusing to pay up when the captain and ship are lost at sea. Once, she knows this, she has no further need to justify her action and does it.

Marked for death

"Death is not the worst thing," the kindly man replied. "It is His gift to us, an end to want and pain. On the day that we are born the Many-Faced God sends each of us a dark angel to walk through life beside us. When our sins and our sufferings grow too great to be borne, the angel takes us by the hand to lead us to the nightlands, where the stars burn ever bright. Those who come to drink from the black cup are looking for their angels. If they are afraid, the candles soothe them. When you smell our candles burning, what does it make you think of, my child?" (aFfC, Arya II)

The kindly man ends this paragraph by mentioning those actively seeking their dark angel by drinking the black cup - out of guilt or suffering. But note that "sins" are a part of the beliefs of the FM's faith. The sufferer will pray for the gift of mercy for himself. The great sinner not necessarily so, and yet the mark of death may still be put on him, and then he/she has to die by the hand of an FM as an instrument of the god of death.

Who have followers of the Many Faced God assassinated? (regardless of contract)

a slave master

Chyswick: a gang rapist

Weese: an abuser and liar

Balon: (based on GoHH's dream), a reaver

Pate: a thief and betrayer of his master for coin to someone who may have just as well had every intention to kill Marwyn

Dareon: a deserter, betrayer of friends and leaving them to die for all he cared, liar and ogling a 14 year old

a ship/cargo insurance man: cons captains and ship owners out of their money, and when they die along with their shipwreck, the widow and children end up on the street begging

the waif's stepmother: who poisoned the waif when she was a young girl to remove her as heir

possibly the Ugly Girl's father: a child beater

Not one of them can be called a "good" person. Even if people are grey, there's pearl-grey and there's anthracite. Pate is the lightest grey of them all, and that's because he's still so young and only just started on a path of darkening grey. Not one of these characters is a light pearly grey character, none.

Him of Many Faces and many names

"Him of Many Faces.""And many names," the kindly man had said. "In Qohor he is the Black Goat, in Yi Ti the Lion of Night, in Westeros the Stranger. All men must bow to him in the end, no matter if they worship the Seven or the Lord of Light, the Moon Mother or the Drowned God or the Great Shepherd. All mankind belongs to him . . . else somewhere in the world would be a folk who lived forever. Do you know of any folk who live forever?""No," she would answer. "All men must die." (aFfC, Cat of the Canals)

The title of the god of death can actually be seen as a reference to Odin. Odin has 170 names/styles and at least 50 disguises, appearing as a young man, an old man, a blind man, a beggar, a king, animals, on and on it goes. So, Odin is a god of Many Faces and many names, wearing disguises and masks. On top of that he is a god of death, resurrection, sacrifice.

Hence, a girl with Valkyrie aspects would be a servant of the god of Many Faces, and it would be very fitting that members of the order can change their appearance so drastically as the FM, and have the knowledge how to accomplish this.

Volunteer

There is a difference between the First FM and the Second. The First was a volunteer. The Second became FM because he offered all he had to have his prayer answered, and the First demanded he'd join her. The waif is not an assassin, but she is not strictly speaking a volunteer, even if becoming one of the guild was to her benefit. We do not know how the other acolytes were recruited, but we do know for certain that Arya is volunteering.

"Die?" she said, confused. What did he mean? "But I unsaid the name. You don't need to die now."

"I do. My time is done." Jaqen passed a hand down his face from forehead to chin, and where it went he changed. His cheeks grew fuller, his eyes closer; his nose hooked, a scar appeared on his right cheek where no scar had been before. And when he shook his head, his long straight hair, half red and half white, dissolved away to reveal a cap of tight black curls.

Arya's mouth hung open. "Who are you?" she whispered, too astonished to be afraid. "How did you do that? Was it hard?"

He grinned, revealing a shiny gold tooth. "No harder than taking a new name, if you know the way.""Show me," she blurted. "I want to do it too."

"Show me," she blurted. "I want to do it too."

"If you would learn, you must come with me."

Arya grew hesitant. "Where?"

"Far and away, across the narrow sea."

"I can't. I have to go home. To Winterfell."

"Then we must part," he said, "for I have duties too." He lifted her hand and pressed a small coin into her palm. "Here."

"What is it?"

"A coin of great value."Arya bit it. It was so hard it could only be iron. "Is it worth enough to buy a horse?"

"It is not meant for the buying of horses."

"Then what good is it?"

"As well ask what good is life, what good is death? If the day comes when you would find me again, give that coin to any man from Braavos, and say these words to him—valar morghulis."

"Valar morghulis," Arya repeated. It wasn't hard. Her fingers closed tight over the coin. Across the yard, she could hear men dying. "Please don't go, Jaqen."

"Jaqen is as dead as Arry," he said sadly, "and I have promises to keep. Valar morghulis, Arya Stark. Say it again." (aCoK, Arya IX)

...

"You know that you may leave this place. You are not one of us, not yet. You may go home anytime you wish."

"You told me that if I left, I couldn't come back."

"Just so."

Those words made her sad. Syrio used to say that too, Arya remembered. He said it all the time. Syrio Forel had taught her needlework and died for her. "I don't want to leave."

"Then stay . . . but remember, the House of Black and White is not a home for orphans. All men must serve beneath this roof. Valar dohaeris is how we say it here. Remain if you will, but know that we shall require your obedience. At all times and in all things. If you cannot obey, you must depart."

...

"Why would you wish to fight? Are you some bravo, strutting through the alleys, spoiling for blood?" He sighed. "Before you drink from the cold cup, you must offer up all you are to Him of Many Faces. Your body. Your soul. Yourself. If you cannot bring yourself to do that, you must leave this place."

...

..."You believe this is the only place for you." It was as if he'd heard her thoughts. "You are wrong in that. You would find softer service in the household of some merchant. Or would you sooner be a courtesan, and have songs sung of your beauty? Speak the word, and we will send you to the Black Pearl or the Daughter of the Dusk. You will sleep on rose petals and wear silken skirts that rustle when you walk, and great lords will beggar themselves for your maiden's blood. Or if it is marriage and children you desire, tell me, and we shall find a husband for you. Some honest apprentice boy, a rich old man, a seafarer, whatever you desire."

She wanted none of that. Wordless, she shook her head.

"Is it Westeros you dream of, child? Luco Prestayn's Lady Bright leaves upon the morrow, for Gulltown, Duskendale, King's Landing, and Tyrosh. Shall we find you passage on her?"

"I only just came from Westeros." Sometimes it seemed a thousand years since she had fled King's Landing, and sometimes it seemed like only yesterday, but she knew she could not go back. "I'll go if you don't want me, but I won't go there."

"My wants do not matter," said the kindly man. "It may be that the Many-Faced God has led you here to be His instrument, but when I look at you I see a child . . . and worse, a girl child. Many have served Him of Many Faces through the centuries, but only a few of His servants have been women. Women bring life into the world. We bring the gift of death. No one can do both." (aFfC, Arya II)

...

No, she thought. "Yes," she said."You lie. And that is why you must now walk in darkness until you see the way. Unless you wish to leave us. You need only ask, and you may have your eyes back."No, she thought. "No," she said. (aDwD, The Blind GIrl)

...

They hung upon the walls, before her and behind her, high and low, everywhere she looked, everywhere she turned. She saw old faces and young faces, pale faces and dark faces, smooth faces and wrinkled faces, freckled faces and scarred faces, handsome faces and homely faces, men and women, boys and girls, even babes, smiling faces, frowning faces, faces full of greed and rage and lust, bald faces and faces bristling with hair. Masks, she told herself, it's only masks, but even as she thought the thought, she knew it wasn't so. They were skins. "Do they frighten you, child?" asked the kindly man. "It is not too late for you to leave us. Is this truly what you want?" Arya bit her lip. She did not know what she wanted. If I leave, where will I go? She had washed and stripped a hundred corpses, dead things did not frighten her. They carry them down here and slice their faces off, so what? She was the night wolf, no scraps of skin could frighten her. Leather hoods, that's all they are, they cannot hurt me. "Do it," she blurted out. (aDwD, The Ugly Little Girl)

She offers no sacrifice in her prayer list

She gets 3 names for throwing an axe into a burning cage. These names could have been Tywin + Cersei + Joffrey and Jaqen would hae done them

Jaqen gives her a coin and the password, and offers to take her with him, but nowhere is there any force exerted by him

The kindly man offers to find all sorts of alternative lives to her if she desires it, and with each new step asks her she can still leave;

Jaqen's behavior and the kindly man's with regards to her volunteering in light of having killed 3 (well way more than 3) for her, while she offered nothing is in severe contrast to how the First recruited the Second. That is very peculiar and seems to suggest her volunteering is a requirement, either of a profile or prophecy. Arya then is more like the First - one who came to regard him- or herself as an instrument of the Many Faced God of her/his own volition.

Fighting

Of extra note that like Jaqen, the kindly man does not see any need for Arya to fight. Nor is she trained in sword fighting at the House. Instead, she is taught in making poisons. She learned one knife trick on the streets of Braavos, and she used it to cut open a purse and replace one coin with a poisoned one. And as I mentioned, while Valkyries presided, influenced and supervized a battle, they were not participating shieldmaidens. Instead they used their magical and divine powers, trickery and words. As assassin and spy, Arya is taught to use magic (faces), sleight of hand and poisons.

Conclusion This sums up the features of Arya related to the FM:

cupbearer

intuitive chooser of the slain

servant of a god of death of Many Faces and many names (Odin references)

the battle of Harrenhal is dedicated to her

no fighting (neither while guided by Jaqen or the kindly man)

female

volunteers like the First

It is likely the First was in fact a woman, while women are rare in the order. With Arya ticking off so many Valkyrie features, I think the FM have a prophecy regarding a girl-child to be the FIrst Born Again who strongly knows the will of the Many Faced God, and want her as the god's voice to guide them against the foes who would destroy humanity and defy the natural order of life and death, for she will intuitively know which deaths and which sacrifices would please the Many Faced God. (https://asoiaf.westeros.org/index.php?/topic/133891-the-valkyrie-of-the-fm-theory-about-the-first-and-the-first-reborn/ )

[wuzzybear]

The Accidentals- A bad fucking week. part 1

A group of broke adults join a medical trial hoping for some easy cash but instead get a lot more than what they wanted. There is something bad at play and they need to work it out if they ever want to be normal, not that they were normal before.

 Laura walked in through the door of her shoddy apartment, the lights flickering on as she slumped down on her stained sofa, she wanted to order takeaway but knew she didn't have the money, life was way to expensive and this week had been a pile of horse shit if any one had been, her car was in the garage after it broke down a couple days ago, the bill was so high she would need to not eat for a month.  Before getting off shift today she had seen a family of five burn, only 2 getting out alive, a baby and the father.  She tried to not let her job get to her but fighting fires was the easiest part, watching the families as they realise that not everyone made it is the worst, you can feel the guilt in the air. We are trained to move on, you can't take every death personally or it kills you from the inside but whenever i see a family torn apart so abruptly the worry stays on my heart, seeing happy families destroyed was definitely the worst part of her job but laura still loved the job and everyone struggles with it so she just tries to leave the worry at work,but today it followed her home, there was just something about today, the fire had started in the oldest’s room, probably faulty electrics, she was barely out of primary school, just starting to think she was a grown up, it had already killed the middle kid by the time anyone realised and the mother just breathed in to much smoke, it was come and go for a bit but in the end she didn't even make it to the hospital. A happy family reduced to two, a morning father and a 2 month old girl, how she survived I don't know. All that innocence and such young lives torn away so quickly. 

 Laura stood up shaking her head, it's not good to stay focused on the bad things, noodles and beer and an early night and she can sort everything else out in the morning.She has parents she can beg for money,they won't be happy but they wont let her starve,she just wishes she didn't have to call.  For tonight she resigned herself to the sofa with a bottle of cheap beer and some veg noodles, strolling through the internet. Eventually the sun was long gone and the shame came creeping back, she was sitting here running from her responsibilities with beer, noodles and a blanket around her, just trying to hide away on the internet, she was a grown woman, an adult. She closed down Reddit and opened her emails, this was an adult thing, she could clear her inbox. Ad,ad,ad,scam,ad,ad, important thing she should of replied too, she was trying to be grown up but that was slightly too grown up, ad, bank statement, don't want to look at that, oh nice easy one, the unit chief is trying to set up a quiz night, he needs to know when i'm free, i can do that. After a couple minutes of checking her calendar, which was embarrassingly empty she had formed an adult but chill response. There! She had been an adult, she had written an email and deleted a few more. She scanned over the rest hoping they could wait a few more days until a quiet moment at work, one caught her eye, an email from a trial company, she did a couple of studies a few years back to get some extra cash and extra cash was just what she needed, she looked into it, it was a medical study looking into a mental health drug, they needed people with diagnosed mental illness so she knew she would fit right in. Drug trials were not her thing but the pay was pretty good, two injections a week, £50 each, it lasted 12 months but you could leave whenever, just under £5,000 for the whole year, she probably wouldn't hang on that long but long enough that she could fix her beat up Honda and still eat. Honestly how could she resist? The testing facility was a 15 minute walk away from the fire station as well. Fuck me if was perfect, no nagging from anyone about “being an adult” and “looking after your finances”. Laura finally went to bed that night, slightly tipsy, exhausted but slightly less stressed.

Laura had 2 days until she got paid and she had her first appointment for the trial today, it was a rolling study so there was no set start date. She had promised Steve, the mechanic down the road, that he would get paid the bill as soon as she got paid so that he would carry on working with no money upfront, to be honest he totally owned Laura one, she had set him up with an ex of hers about a year back and she had never seen him happier. She walked up to a little privately owned clinic that she had never noticed before, it was smart but felt way to clinical, the lights were so bright it burnt and like all of these places the smell of cleaner was so strong you could taste it, she popped her phone into the pocket of her oversized jacket as she came to the front desk, the lady at the desk looked he up and down, I suppose she didn't really look like she belonged, it didn't look like a cheap sort of place.” hi i'm here for the trial, umm.. Laura Burmwell” Laura muttered into the ground,she hated reception staff, they always seemed super judgy and this lady was no different, she tapped away at her screen for a few very awkward moments and sighed, pointing me to a section of chairs near the back. Pulling her earphones out she landed in a seat. 

“Don’t worry she wasn't very nice to me either” a voice chucked next to her, a small grinning woman sat there tapping on her phone, Laura smiled back, she was gorgeous, long black hair down to her waist, out shining Laura's dirty blonde mess any day.

 “I’m glad she doesn't just hate me” Lorna joked, internally panicking. Why is such a cute woman actually talking to me? She suddenly felt amazingly under dressed, she was sat next to a stunning women who was clearly ready to go to work in a nice yellow dress and a jacket and she is there look like a gay hobo, hair up in yesterdays bun and a t shirt that has dinosaurs on it, at she is wearing smartish jeans. “I’m Laura, are you here for the study?” she smiled. 

“Preet, yeah, i'm hoping they can cure the fuckery going on in my head before the end of it” she chuckled but I could see the blush forming over her skin as she processed what she had said, Laura just snorted, tapping her leg on the linoleum floor, trying to think of something to say, her mind in overdrive.

“Nervous?” Preet questioned.

 “i just haven't been in a drug trial for years, what if I grow four heads or something?” She joked, Preet actually burst out laughing, tears starting to form in her eyes, which got Laura laughing too, they just sat there trying to hide there laughter from the rest of the very serious looking members of the waiting room, finally after about 5 minutes they both calmed down enough to speak, laughter still glistening in their eyes.

“ but seriously these drugs will of been tested for years before it gets to these sorts of tests, its perfectly safe, they are just proving it and checking out side effects, I’m sure you wont grow any more heads.”  At that moment Preet’s name was called over the speaker system, Secretly both of them were hoping they had been forgotten about so they could sit here and chat all day but neither of them said it. 

“See you later Laura” Preet called as she picked up her stuff and started to follow the now waiting nurse. 

Lorna went back to her music, trying to pull a stupid grin off her face. 

1941- September 5th

I walked into surgery, on the bench was the patient, a young soldier, barley 19. He was burning up. Nurse Weber was standing there, trying to cool him down while setting up. He had a gun wound that was starting to get infected and the bullet had yet been removed. We set to work, removing infected tissue and finding bits of the shattered bullet but further we got the more futile it became, he kept losing blood and nothing we could do would keep his temperature down, he was pretty much dead in front of us. The nurse looked up, exhaustion in every wrinkle in her face, defeat in her eyes, I’m sure she had been on duty when he came on, over 10 hours earlier. With an air of defect  I started sawing him up, giving him a dose of penicillin and covering the wound with gauze. I doubt he would make the night but we had tried. I removed my bloodied gloves and left. Hoping to be able to rest now. My eyes started over at the dying children and men who fill the halls. when will the war end, when will the suffering stop, have not enough died for the righteous cause? I started towards the boards, I was still on duty for another few days before I could head home. As i passed through the corridors i passed a officer asking about his son, every has someone fighting in this war to end all wars, he came to a halt in front of me desperately asking for his sons condition, i had treated him when he first got brought in, he was going to make it but he no longer had a left leg, a bomb had hit near trench and had impaled his leg. As he quickly dismissed me, relief clear on his face, you could clearly see the shine on his Swastika pin. “Heil Hitler” I murmured as he marched away into the chaos.

This is my first attempt writing, please tell me how to improve! this is the first part of a longer story.

[blackcatanna]

First impressions of Hakuoki characters:

Hijikata: Sebastian from Black Butler realness. Is mean but in a reluctant way. Like a Mum who is in charge of discipline because her husband (Kondou) is incapable of laying down the law. I like him but I would like him more if the game wasn't sucking his dick so hard. He has good hair. Please don't kill me, Hijikata!

Okita: He is handsome (duh) but seems a bit too eager to kill his own men... Ugh, now he's making me thank him. His idea of humour is threatening to kill you. He's like an old cackling witch who was shunned by the world and is taking it out on anyone he has power over. I enjoy him but I find it hard to relate to someone who takes pleasure in tormenting the helpless. Big dom energy. Probably enjoyed tying you up a bit too much. I want to fight back but I have a feeling that there is no script for bratty Chizuru. :'(

Saito: The Chosen One. He is dangerous but also adorable. He saved mah life *swoons*. He is HELPFUL. He has beautiful impractical hair. He is CONCISE. He is POLITE. He just seems like a great person to have around... If he's on your side (R.I.P. Itou). Alas, we can never be wed, for he is already married to his sword... Or maybe it's Hijikata... Or Okita... Or tofu. He has a lot of commitments.

Harada: He has red hair. Me like red hair. I feel like all three of them are way too casual about my impending doom. Not getting friendly vibes here. However, it turns out that he's pretty great! A bit too chirpy for my liking, though. Because I'm a miserable bitch (goth), I guess. The baka trio are all more boisterous and outgoing than I would be comfortable being around but I like them on their own. Harada is my favourite, though. Definitely the Mum of the trio. I guess that makes him the cool aunty of the Shinsengumi? He has the best Kazama burns and I will always love him for that.

Heisuke: I wish that the others would stop treating him like a child. Maybe they would if he stopped taking their bait. He's the most openly friendly of the group and that means a lot when you're surrounded by new people (and are being held against your will). He looks like an angry wildcat. I like cats so that's fine, I guess.

Kazama: Ew. Can you tell that I don't like him? Fuck this wannabe nonce. Actually, no! Don't fuck him! That's what he wants! Just stab him real good. He cannot control his temper. I do not respect that. He is racist. He is too scared of rejection to court a girl and get consent. He is really handsome but he has the worst personality so I feel no attraction to him at all. Not even for a hate fuck. No. Go away.

Nagakura: Ah, the classic pervert! We love a slut! I kept forgetting who he was, though. Sorry. Clearly, he has hidden depths but I have yet to find out what those are. Is a little bit too violent. Needs to calm tf down. I don't really have much else to say about first impressions. At first, the baka trio were just loud, wacky background noise.

Sannan: Seems fine, I guess... Fairly reasonable. If he was such a sweet, fluffy bunny before his injury, why was everyone so scared of him? He has a pleasantly calm aura. However, he needs to work on his diplomacy. Demanding blood while brandishing a sword is extremely un-chill of him. I also enjoy wandering around eerily in the middle of the night so we have that in common. Definitely gives off sinister vibes.

Yamazaki: Ninja Nurse Mum! He is clever, selfless, dedicated and reliable! He deserves a better hairstyle XD Sorry Yamazaki! The rat tail is not a strong look but he probably has more important things to worry about like SAVING LIVES and coming up with new moves to shout out in combat. I am excited to do his route because he deserves all the happiness.

Iba: The most beautiful one. He's rich, good looking, friendly and has had a crush on you for years. He also rescues you from the Shinsengumi on numerous occasions to hang out and eat delicious desserts. He's very cute. Definitely too good to be true. Everyone has a dark side and it concerns me when someone locks theirs away so much. Or maybe he really is that 2D. Iba is so perfect that they had to give him the Demon Arm of Horniness because they didn't want to tarnish him with a human flaw. I would probably be obsessed with him if he was real but, as a character, I don't find him that interesting.

Sakamoto: I still have no idea who this man is. He creeps me out, though. I don't remember why, I just remember being creeped out when you first meet him. Maybe he should mind his own business.

Souma: Puppy? Who threw this poor guy to Harada and Nagakura? Wow, I finally have underlings. However, they are probably not here against their will. He looks scared so he must have some brains. I haven't played his route yet so I don't know much about him.

Nomura: Horny Puppy! This isn't really a first impression (except for in the sense that all of my impressions are initial because I haven't played much with him in yet) and is totally spoilery but there's a bit in Edo Blossoms where they're making fun of him for being terrible with women and how it'll take him ten years to figure them out. At the time, I thought, "Bit harsh, guys. He could very easily die tomorrow and then he'll never get any." AND THEN HE DID. Die, that is. Not get laid. R.I.P.

Kondou: Married to Hijikata. They have loads of terrible children. Fun Dad. Thinks that he's a cool Dad but there are no cool Dads. Everyone talks about how nice he is and how everyone loves him but it's hard to appreciate that when he's debating whether or not to feed you to Okita. Turns out, he is kind but very busy. Definitely a secret badass. Very secret. He gives off friendly bear vibes.

Inoue: Friendly Grandad who is way younger than he looks. Not datable so he is mostly in the background, just being kind, helpful and dependable. He is warm but calm and comforting to be around.

Shimada: Gruff undatable anime guy who is not a bishie and so his brave and heroic acts often go unnoticed.

Motoyama: Bless him for trying to be a wingman. Why is he so scared of the Shinsengumi? Scary poor people with swords? He is very good at his job. Needs to calm down with the winks and nudges.

Itou: This Bitch. He could be fabulous but he loses points for mocking the disabled. He's Regina George. Except he actually dies. Is very camp. Would be great to go shopping with him. Not necessarily gay but is the gay best friend you deserve, not the gay best friend you asked for. Is a bitch but also sometimes the only sane person in the room. He's not reading you, he's just being real with you because you're Shinsengumi Sisters.

Miki: Bitch by Association. "Darling." Doesn't seem totally evil, just trying to do his best by his brother. Relies on tough guy image. Doing his job but happens to be on team Bitch. Also, he is a handsome boi.

Takeda: Fabulous Cunt. Should be too beautiful to be such a disaster human and yet here we are. Starts off as a bit of a prick, ends up (spoilers) feasting on the flesh of innocents... Is that a glow up? He's a dirty cop. Nobody likes him X_X :'(

Shiranui: GUNS! SHOOTY SHOOTY! He has a lot of aggression and he channels it through his GUNS. He always looks somewhat maniacal. Needs to take a chill pill.

Amagiri: Infuriatingly calm enemy with infuriating facial hair. He seems pretty chill and not bloodthirsty so... Good? He punched Heisuke, though, so RAAAAAAAWR!!!!

Kodo: Worst Dad. Scalpels > kunai. Took a level in WTF while he was away (hopefully he wasn't always like that).

Kaoru: Why can't I dress like that? :'( Definitely evil.

Sen: Hey, don't tell me off for protecting you! Can we be best friends?! I'M SO STARVED OF FEMALE CONTACT!!! More of this queen, please. She is powerful, kind and she is honest! I wanted to run away with her while Saito and Heisuke were away :') But the game didn't let me :'(

Kimigiku: GOALS. Why can't I be disguised as a geisha (except for that one time) :'( GET THIS QUEEN A ROUTE. She is beauty she is grace. I wish that I looked more like a woman and less like a child. I want her to be my friend too. She can teach me her womanly arts!

Chizuru!: She's fine. Much less annoying than she could easily be. Too pure for this world. A fine example of woman (well, she looks like a child). Her disguise is useless. Pretends not to be thirsty but rushes past Itou to see shirtless men. HMMMMMMM.

[merethehunter]

Reasons pt.3

- gif still not mine, lol

- Happy New Year y’all!!

- So, I’m a nursing student, and I’m currently in my last year of studies, and I’m in something called a long consolidation, which means I work shifts now, it’s gonna take a bit of time to get used to, so no promises on updates 

- I will finish this 

- lol angst

- tell me to write smut so I can blame all the smut on y’all!

- It’s a Dean x reader piece, I swear!

part 1   part 2 

You always answer phone calls as a hunter, because every single one of them could be life-and-death.

He let her down, still enveloping her in his embrace, and picked up the phone. Sam, probably the least person he’d like to talk to right now, but he answered anyway.

‘Yeah.’

‘I can smell you both even in the room. The whole floor probably smell you.’ Sam’s chuckles came out of the phone.

‘What do you want.’ His annoyance cleared as the day.

‘You’re still mated Dean.’ They can’t see it, he sounded serious, but Sam is smiling widely right now.

Frustration grew deep in him. Yes, this isn’t just any omegas in the street, he treats any omega better than this, and this is her, their hunting partner for almost two years, smelling wonderfully, is most definitely already slicked up for him.

He hung up the phone, looked at her intensely, he’s not sure what’s going on, but he’s not gonna let her go, that’s for sure. So, he picked her up in one arm with her clutching to his side, holding her like a child.

She didn’t protest, her legs are a little weak, between the ‘warm-ups’ by Sam and just ‘Dean’ by Dean, her legs are like jelly right now.

He carried her the short trip from the end of the hall back to their room. When he opened the door, Sam had already showered, hair slightly wet. Studying them with interests in his eyes. Dean almost felt like a caveman, carrying his woman back to the cave.

He let her down gently, his arm never leaving her. Eyeing his brother with a death glare. And his brother just smiled at them.

‘Why don’t you take a shower? A long one?’ His questions directed at her, telling her that they are going to talk.

She just looked back and forth between them, thinking over is it smart to leave them alone. But Dean gave her a little pat at her lower back, reassuring her. Yes, they are both alphas, but they are also brothers, they’ve been living together for over 30 years, their bond is strong.

While she’s gone, the two of them looked at each other silently, they didn’t start talking until they heard the sound of shower.

Sam sighed. ‘Sit down Dean.’ He’s gonna lie his ass off now.

He did, sat on the bed next to his, he still wound’t talk. He didn’t want to, didn’t know how.

‘She’s an omega.’ Sam acknowledge the fact, watching Dean squirmed where he sat uncomfortably. ‘Yeah.’

‘She ran out of suppressants last night.’ He eyed him, evaluating his calmness. ‘So we’ll get her some.’ He frowned, unable to process the problem. And Sam gave her a sad smile.

‘She’s an omega. She’s almost 30. Unmated. Without any pups. Without a pack.’ Sam provided more information, silently cursing his brother’s surprisingly low witticism.

‘Well, she’s in. She’s living in the bunker, she’s been living with us for almost 2 years now.’

‘Yeah, but not officially, no.’ Dean frowned upon his brother’s comment. ‘What are you saying.’

‘She told me last night, that 35 is the magic number.’ He informed him calmly, much like an experienced oncologist.

‘What?’ Too many emotions running in his head and mind, disbelief, denial, sad, shock, anger, and maybe jealousy.

Sam pulled his hair back, rubbing them like he’s frustrated. ‘Yeah. So, I told her not to get suppressants this month.’ Dean’s heart’s pounding, unable or rather unwilling to process the implications.

Sam looked right at his brother’s eyes. ‘I told her. I will mate her next heat.’ The bells in Dean’s head rang, like hell, alerting him of his natural instincts, to defend his omega.

Sam saw that, and he knew just what to say. ‘You knew she has a little thing for you.’

Of course Dean knew she had a little thing for him, but that’s what they think it is, a little thing, unimportant thing. Sometimes they flirt, sometimes their hands glaze while sitting in a tiny diner booth, sometimes she catches him looking at her and she smiled, and he knew it’s because he’s smiling too, like the moon, always reflecting what the sun gives her. And somehow the sun felt even warmer inside.

But never crossing a line. Never crossing a line.

They understand this, they are hunters, they hunt together, he’s an alpha, they thought she’s a beta. She knew he valued her as a friend and a hunter. She understood that Dean’s not looking for anything serious, and she’s too close to them to be something ‘not-serious’. They thought nothing will happen between them.

So of course, Dean knew she had a little thing for him.

And now she’s an omega.

‘You’re still mated, Dean.’ Sam looked at his brother with pleading eyes. ‘She can’t wait you, she doesn’t have the years.’ Which is absolutely true, but not if Sam had anything to say in this.

It’s like a cold bucket of water, dumping at his head. His head is cold, his body is cold, his finger tips are cold.

‘I am not losing her in just five years, Dean.’ He said slowly, letting every information sink down on Dean. ’35 is just her being optimistic, I think it’s more like two or three. I told her I wanna do this. It took some persuasion, and she agreed.’

Dean stood up, wiped his face hard, like he could wipe away everything he’d just heard. He needs a drink, that’s what he needs.

And then she came out of the shower. There’s a different definition of long shower as hunters, she just can’t stand her fingers getting wrinkly. She heard pieces of their conversation and from their faces now, she can see that it’s not going well.

Sam smiled at her, sort of sad and relived, she didn’t understand why.

‘You wanna go get breakfast?’

Oh, so their conversation’s not over yet. Okay, she could use a walk.

‘Sure, just let me change a bit.’ Coming out of the shower in Pyjama shorts and a t-shirt, probably not the best to go out in, grabbing her clothes, she got back into the bathroom again.

‘Wait, you’re gonna let her out?’

‘She does it everyday, Dean.’

‘Yeah, but today’s… different.’

‘What?’ They both turned their heads to her, dressed in her usual jeans and t-shirt, she sat down and laced up her combat boots, she still looked delicious enough to be eaten. She continued to do her laces, ‘Today’s different… what?’

Finishing up, she stood up and crossed her arms across her chest, an authoritative tone came out of her, it’s amazing how someone as small as she is, an omega nonetheless, that could have a voice that made people want to stand up straight.

‘Well, every alpha in the 10 miles radius’s gonna smell you.’

She eyed him, and he’s actually intimidated, not that he would ever admit it. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He sighed in relief , hoping she wouldn’t go out, ‘I’ll just take my 10 mm.’

She walked back to her duffle bag and took her favourite gun, checking the clips once before head out the door.

‘Just text me what you want, or I’ll just get the usual.’ And there she goes, with her headphones in, beanie on. Sam grinned, got up and started to pack their bags, so they’d be ready to go after breakfast.

Dean stood in disbelief, directing his frustrations at Sam. ‘You-you just let her go?’ Sam didn’t even look up while packing. ‘She’s very capable. Saved your ass, saved your ass lots of times actually. You think she wouldn’t use that gun of her? Shooting any alphas’ dicks off if they try anything to her?’

Dean wondered, yeah, she probably would, her face wouldn’t flinch actually. He shook his head, ‘That’s not the point.’

Sam finally looked up, trying hard to hide the smirk off his face. ‘What’s your point?’ Dean rubbed his forehead, trying to process. ‘You just told me, you’re gonna mate her. Isn’t it your job to protect her?’ Sam put down his things, calculating what to say next, how to push Dean further.

‘Dean, I love her. I do. But like a sister, like a part of my pack. Not like that. This is- this is not some undying love or your true mates. I’m doing this to save her life. End her sufferings.’

‘So what? You’re not gonna do your job?’

‘What? What’s my job?’ Sam stood in an offensive posture, preparing for attacks, verbal or physical.

‘She’s off suppressants. Her scent, her god damn scent is gonna be a giant neon signs in the huge fucking sky, calling other alphas to touch her!’

‘Dean, she’s capable! I’m not gonna be some jealous, possessive aloha who would’t let his omega our of the house! Which is what you’re doing actually.’

‘What? What am I doing?’

‘Being possessive of her.’

‘Dean, you’re mated. She can’t wait for you. She. Doesn’t. Have. The TIME.’ The conversation got loud, he didn’t intend to be loud, but somehow Dean touched a nerve.

‘How long has she been with us? Two years now? Do you want her? Did you ever want her? If you do want her, why being possessive all of a sudden? Because you knew I’m gonna take her now? What are you? FIVE?’

Never in their lives, had Sam ever be this aggressive towards his own big brother. In a family of alphas, pack alphas are usually the oldest one, John had been the pack alpha before they even presented, and Sam despite his status as an alpha, has only ever challenged his pack alpha once, when he went to Stanford.  

‘Sa-Sam, it’s not like that.’

‘Then what is it? What IS IT LIKE? You think it’s fun watching her suffer? Watching her cry because she knew you are mated, that you don’t want her, that you’d go out every night looking for other women? You think it’s fun knowing she’s an omega last night? Knowing she may die in the next 5 years, maybe less, knowing she’s gonna suffer through it, until she CAN’T. TAKE IT. ANYMORE?’

‘You’re mated because you held on Dean. You held on, you loved Lisa. You still do. What are you gonna do?’

‘Are you selfish enough to make her wait? Wait while she suffers, wait for you to finally give her a glance? Wait until you finally made up your mind? You think she deserves this?’

The two brother stared each other in silence, Sam out of anger, Dean out of, complicated thoughts. She’s never an emotional person, not the ‘girly’ girl as she would say. She’s not the kind of girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, sometimes it’s impossible to know what she’s thinking, if she intentionally hide it from you.

So how could he know. That they do have an understanding, but she still cries about it anyway, in Sam’s arms probably. She’s an omega, maybe she’s yearning for an alpha at heart, maybe that’s why when Sam offered, she agreed.

And there’s nothing he can do about it.

Sam realised he’s emotional, but it’s also true, all of what he said. He’s been angry with Dean. Because no matter the situation, whether Dean knows it or not, he’s been abandoning his omega.

Sam had two omegas in his life. Jess and Amelia. Jess was taken away from him, and Amelia’s claim stopped fading the minute she knew her husband’s alive. He can’t hold on to both. And now, she’s been with them almost two years, she stood by them, good or bad, when either of them’s angry, she’s the one to sooth them, nurture them when they got hurt, she never got into serious injuries, she’s very aware of her limits, retreat when she knew she absolutely can’t win, possibly so that she’s always able to take her daily suppressants.

That’s why they thought she’s a beta. She’s been with them, had given them everything, with nothing in return, and with no one taking care of her.

Two years, she’s been with them, but not really, she had to hide the fact that she’s an omega from them. She had to take suppressants, everyday, good or bad, injured or not, with them or without them. She had to take care of herself these years.

Because no one’s taking care of her. Sam’s gonna change that. He stepped away from his brother. ‘It’s been two years, and you did nothing. Think what are you gonna do. Don’t treat her like a toy and get possessive because someone might take it away from you.’

Sam grabbed his phone and packed a knife, ‘Pack. I’m going to her.’

He met her when she’s half way back to the motel, a huge paper bag in one hand and coffee tray the other hand. She smiled brightly when she saw him, the smile is quickly replaced by concern when he got closer, when she can scent him. He’s very angry.

He took the bag from her hand and greeted her by a kiss to the top of his head. He’s silent. So she tucked him by his sleeve, silently asking him what’s wrong. Sam sighed.

‘You ran into any trouble while getting breakfast?’

‘Yeah, but I held the 10 mm at his crotch, I think he peed a little. I’m gonna clean my gun before we head back to the bunker.’ She said cheekily, she had never ran into troubles as omega since she became a hunter, this is a little fun for her.

‘That’s my girl.’ He nudged her shoulder, and he held her hands, and they walked safely back to the motel.

part 4

[missingverse]

Missing Chapter Twenty Eight

Note: Please excuse the long absence, a combination of being metaphysically hit by the fandom feels and being hit by actually physical issues with my crumbling bones interfered with my ability to write this chapter. I'm still pretty unwell but I'm going to catch up on all of my fics this month hopefully.

As always, I recommend you check out my novel on Kindle if you like my work, and there's the added bonus that if I get struck by lightning or have another embolism you will have something to read while I'm in the ICU, cursing the lack of wifi.

US link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BGSPPBY

UK link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07BGSPPBY

Also, soon to be available in paperback form!

…..

Waring's lawyer tried to argue for an insanity plea, but it was rejected. There was no doubt he was insane, but functional enough to kill so many women and keep a kidnapped child hidden for nearly half a year. He was given three consecutive life sentences, narrowly avoiding the death penalty because there was limited proof that he had killed the missing women. The prosectution was quoted as saying that without Helga's testimony he might have walked away.

That was some consolation during the week she spent in an induced coma followed by an intense surgery to relieve some of the pressure on her brain. The nosebleeds had been a herald of something that could easily have killed her, and there was still no telling what effect it would have on her long-term. When she came to after surgery, she couldn't speak and had trouble moving her arms.

It was depressing, Arnold had to admit. She had come so far he had pretty much assumed it could only get better, even though he'd been warned multiple times she could slide back like this. He was lying on his bed at home, staring at the ceiling and wallowing in his unhappiness, when his phone pinged.

It was Phoebe, of course, because she was the only person who really texted him.

Arnold, you might want to

come down to the hospital.

Why? What's up?

He had that sinking feeling it was going to be bad news.

She's talking again and

she seems okay, but she's

acting strange.

Strange in what way?

I don't know how to

explain it properly

over text.

Can you at least try?

She thinks she's dead, Arnold.

What? How?

I don't know, apparently

it's something that happens.

I don't know what to do.

Is she being treated for it?

We're waiting on the psychiatrist,

they probably won't get one until

tomorrow. I'm trying to act

normal but it's really hard.

Is there a way to act

normal in this situation?

This is why you need to

be here, Arnold. She

remembers what we did

when she was a ghost.

What?

Just get down here when

you can, okay?

…..

When he finally made it to the hospital (Ambrose was away getting some things sorted with his estate and so couldn't drive him) Phoebe had left. Helga's main doctor caught him in the corridor before he could go into Helga's room.

“Cotard delusion,” the doctor sighed, as if that explained anything. “It's not uncommon with brain injury. At least she's not self-harming or suicidal, she's taking it pretty well.”

“But...she thinks she's dead?” Arnold wondered.

“Specifically, she thinks she's a ghost,” the doctor explained. “And she's kind of upbeat about it. Most Cotard patients are manic or depressed or a combo of both. All things considered, it's not a bad result.”

Arnold wondered sourly how Helga suddenly believing she had died wasn't a bad result, but he supposed that was what separated the doctor from the normal civilian. She didn't die or become a vegetable after surgery, which technically meant it was a success.

She was scribbling something in her newest pink notebook when Arnold entered the room, but shut it hastily when she realized he was there.

“Thank God,” she muttered darkly. “Someone sensible.”

“Sensible?” Arnold laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

“Depends on what words come out of your mouth in the next few sentences,” Helga quipped. “Apparently everyone can see me now. At least here in the hospital anyway...”

“Well, yeah they can see you,” Arnold chuckled awkwardly. “You're alive.”

“God, not you too,” she groaned, flopping back against the pillow. “Phoebe already tried this, I know I'm dead. Don't try to sugarcoat it.”

“Why do you think you're dead?”

“I got shot,” she shrugged, seemingly without a care. “We found out that much. Who survives getting shot in the head?”

“You did,” he pressed. “The bullet just grazed you, the medical records prove this. Why do you think the nurses and doctors are treating you, if you're dead?”

“They don't believe in ghosts,” Helga answered. “It's easier to believe I'm just some sick kid that needs treatment. I suppose if I was going to manifest somewhere besides your house it would be the hospital I died in.”

It made a crazy sort of sense, at least from her perspective.

Maybe I should play along, at least until the psychiatrist can come to treat her.

“Okay, fine,” he shrugged, trying to put on a casual face. “You're dead. Did anyone tell you the guy who shot you got three life sentences?”

“Yes, everyone who's come to see me since I manifested,” she said. “And now you. Good. Let him rot in there.”

“So we did what we set out to do, we found out what happened to you.”

“Guess so.”

“What now? If you were a ghost, wouldn't you have moved on after we solved the case?”

“I don't know,” she moaned. “I'm not some sort of authority on ghosts.”

“Well then, it looks like you're here to stay,” Arnold said agreeably. “You're still welcome to haunt the boarding house.”

“I might just do that,” she said, smiling warmly.

An idea suddenly struck Arnold.

“I'm just going to find something,” he told her, getting up from his chair. “Oh, and I should talk to your doctor...”

“About what?”

“If I find it, I'll tell you.”

He hurried off to find the nurse's lounge. After asking a few of them, he found one with a bike she was willing to lend him and it had a basket on the handlebars (smaller than the one on his own but that didn't matter. He okayed it with the doctors, as long as he kept her warm and didn't stay out too long he was able to take her out. Rushing back to her room, he bundled her into her wheelchair and wheeled her out to the front of the hospital, where the nurse had propped up the bike waiting for them.

“Even ghosts need some fresh air,” he explained, lifting her into the basket he'd lined with pillows.

He took her out through one of the rarely-used country roads, bumpy and rough as it was the air was so clear and crisp and fragrant with the scent of blossoming fruit trees. She laughed wildly as they skittered over potholes and bumps in the road and didn't seem to mind that her bare feet were getting splattered with mud. Arnold's arms and legs ached with the strain of pushing the bike through the rocky terrain but it was worth it to see her so happy.

The bare patch of skin on her hairline where the bullet had struck her was covered by gauze since her surgery, but it brought back memories of hauling her ghost form around in his bike like this. Back then, he had come to terms, at least a little, with her death. He was more fearful now that she was living, that things could go wrong and she could be snatched away again. At least as a ghost, nobody would be able to hurt her.

Maybe that's why she believed herself to be dead; for protection.

…..

“I'll be going now,” Gertie told Arnold, kicking him out of his half-sleep.

“No, Grandma,” he groaned, rolling over in bed. “You don't have anywhere to be.”

She was wearing her coat but no shoes. Keeping shoes on her was the hardest task, even if she didn't leave the boarding house she seemed to lose her shoes within minutes of putting them on. Arnold brought her downstairs, took her coat and put some slippers on her feet. Phil was already at the breakfast table, frowning at some bills.

“Everything all right, Pookie?” he asked when Gertie sat down.

She didn't say anything but mumbled to herself a little. She was irritable these days, the new medication made her groggy and confused.

“I'll get started on breakfast,” Arnold offered.

Phil grunted in response and went back to scanning his bills.

A spike of resentment fired up in Arnold as he took out the ingredients to feed everyone in the boarding house. It was the weekend, and he should have had less work to do since Ambrose had started more or less renovating the building, but he'd found himself taking over his grandmother's old jobs instead. He appreciated Phil's money worries, but would it kill him to say thank you?

Other teenagers had the luxury of rebellion. Arnold didn't even have enough time to himself to get an ill-advised tattoo.

“Hey Arnold,” Ambrose said, leading Della into the kitchen. He was a naturally early riser. “On breakfast duty today?”

“Guess so,” Arnold shrugged.

“I'm going down to the hospital later. You wanna hop in?”

“Sure,” Arnold agreed. “Any news from the doctors?”

“They say another month and she should be good to come home,” Ambrose told him. “She has to be monitored by a home visitor but that's no big thing...and I almost got the ramp finished.”

Finally. They'd be living under the same roof. Helga remembered the things they did when she was a ghost, and at some point the Cotard delusion would fade.

She kissed me back. I know she did. It's not just me.

Once the scrambled eggs he cooked were ready, he piled them onto a platter, buttered enough toast to feed an army and brought both into the dining room.

“Ambrose is giving me a lift to the hospital,” he told Phil. “I should be back around ten or...”

“What?” Phil snapped, dropping his bills for probably the first time all morning. “No, I need you here.”

“I don't have any homework,” Arnold shrugged, that little resentful spike pricking him deep. “And the boiler's fixed, Ambrose finished up last night...”

“There's a pile of laundry higher than the kitchen door,” Phil retorted. “None of the floors have been vacuumed in a week and there's weeds all over the garden. Now I've been patient with this hospital business as long as you kept up with your chores...”

“Chores?” Arnold snorted. “Chores are cleaning your room and taking turns with the dishes, not doing laundry for an entire apartment building of adults!”

“Watch it,” Phil growled. “This is your home, you're as responsible for it as I am.”

“No, I'm not,” Arnold growled back. “I didn't choose to live here and I sure as hell never agreed to work here. You've had me doing what should be your job since I was six, you pay me next to nothing for the work I do, you ruined my social life and you're killing my future!”

Arnold hadn't realized but his voice had been climbing in volume, and now there was a line of awkward lodgers standing in the hall, not wanting to come in for breakfast. Phil looked shocked, the bills crumpled in his hands, two bright mortified spots on his cheeks. Even Ambrose and Della back in the kitchen had gone silent.

“Well,” Phil said at last. “If that's how you feel....you know where the door is.”

That just made Arnold even angrier. Over the years Arnold had been such a good kid, never given either of his grandparents any trouble, never even been caught smoking or taking a few dollars from a wallet or ditching school. And this was what he got for a lifetime of good behavior.

“Yes, I do,” he said as he stomped past the lodgers to the front door.

[michaelsongrace]

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New top story from Time: A New Wave of Horror Films About Women’s Deepest Anxieties Is Perfect Viewing for Our Summer of Discontent

Even if most horror movies, until fairly recently, have been made by men, women are still central to their impact and meaning. What would King Kong have been without his tiny captive inamorata Fay Wray, or Frankenstein without Elsa Lanchester, his bewigged, wild-eyed bride? Sometimes women represent fragility and innocence in horror movies, symbols of purity worth saving; other times they’re sympathetic companions or spokespeople for misunderstood monsters.

But their allure goes further and deeper than that—especially when it’s women who are doing the looking. Today, the term “the male gaze” is thrown around more loosely than its originator, filmmaker and film theorist Laura Mulvey, intended. Even when there’s a man behind the camera, the lens doesn’t always simply cater to man’s desires. Women love watching other women; we identify, we admire, and sometimes we feel a frisson (or more) of desire. Other times we recoil, though that may only intensify our fascination. So what happens when women filmmakers take control of the horror genre themselves?

Women filmmakers have been making horror movies since, well, the beginning of movies—Alice Guy-Blaché and Lois Weber contributed to the genre early on. But what’s notable now is the growing number of women filmmakers who are exploring expectations and anxieties specific to womanhood, as well as the mysteries of female erotic power. In the past two months alone we’ve seen a raft of horror movies made by women—Natalie Erika James’ Relic, Romola Garai’s Amulet, Josephine Decker’s Shirley and Amy Seimetz’s She Dies Tomorrow—that are keyed in to women’s experiences in canny, unnerving ways. To define all of these films as horror, in the classic sense of the word, is admittedly a slight stretch: some are more strictly psychological than supernatural, less studies of things that go bump in the night than maps of the turmoil in our heads. But even that is a reflection of what horror, seen through women’s eyes, can mean: the things that scare women the most are already inside them. For years, male filmmakers have been concocting outlandish scenarios for us, while we’ve been storing up material for centuries.

Rob Baker AshtonImelda Staunton and carla Juri in ‘Amulet’

Horror movies made by women and specifically addressing women’s anxieties or hyperreal strengths aren’t new—Karyn Kusuma’s Jennifer’s Body (2009), Ana Lily Amirpour’s A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014) and Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook (also 2014) are just three noteworthy examples from the past decade or so—though it’s still surprising there haven’t been more of them. No one could have foreseen that the summer of 2020, a mini-epoch during which many of us have been confined largely to our homes, unable to socialize in the usual ways and freer than usual to nurture our own personal neuroses, would provide the perfect soil and weather conditions for a new wave of horror movies made by women to flower so fully. Some of the current crop are more effective than others, but all share one trait: They’re about vulnerability but not necessarily victimization. Most of the women in these movies aren’t heroic in the superhero sense, but they’re also not the girl who needs to be saved.

Amulet, the directorial debut from actor Romola Garai (who also wrote the script), may be the most technically ambitious of these films, and through the first two-thirds, at least, it’s jaggedly compelling. An ex-soldier from Eastern Europe, Tomas (Alec Secareanu), has taken refuge in London, working odd jobs and sleeping in a flophouse. A nun with a seemingly generous spirit (Imelda Staunton) finds a place for him to live, in a decrepit house inhabited by a young woman, Magda (Carla Juri). Magda’s ailing mother is kept locked in an upstairs room—it’s dutiful Magda’s job to tend to her day and night, and the responsibility is wearing her down.

Garai layers the plot with so many feverish ideas and images that you wonder how, in the end, it’s going to come together. There’s a woman who can’t escape horrific memories of wartime rape. And Tomas, who seems to have fallen under the spell of a strange little goddess statue he’s dug out of the earth, needs to come to terms with his inflated view of himself as a protector of women, when his own interests are clearly all that matter. For him, the house itself appears to be a moist, sticky trap: It’s at first a place he doesn’t want to be, though it soon becomes one he can’t leave. Magda, meanwhile, appears to be the trapped innocent, the woman who needs saving; she’s also a fabulous cook—but what, exactly, is she serving up? Garai has some grim fun with notions of what men expect women to be vs. who they really are. The movie is marred by a confusing coda that only muddies its already too-vague ending, but it does feature one enduring image: a squirmy, newborn bat-looking thing that emerges from a womb with all its teeth. If that’s not a childbirth-anxiety metaphor, I’m not sure what is.

Sometimes the scariest things we give birth to aren’t, at least literally, living things. In Shirley, directed by Josephine Decker and based on a novel by Susan Scarff Merrell, Elisabeth Moss plays a fictionalized version of Shirley Jackson, the author of one of the most elegantly chilling ghost novels of the 20th century, The Haunting of Hillhouse, as well as the “The Lottery,” a whoppingly effective short story that was for years a nightmare-inducing staple of junior-high literature classes. In Shirley, Moss’ Jackson is the wife of a seemingly jovial Bennington academic (Michael Stuhlbarg) who actually exerts brutish control over her. He invites two young newlyweds, Rose and Fred (Odessa Young and Logan Lerman) to move into their comfortably ramshackle Vermont home, but really, he’s just looking for cheap labor: Shirley, neurotic almost to the point of being incapacitated, is incapable not just of keeping house but of performing basic tasks, like getting dressed for the day.

Thatcher Keats—© 2018 Thatcher KeatsMichael Stuhlbarg and Elisabeth Moss in ‘Shirley’

Shirley is controlling and manipulative in her own way, but she’s also deeply charismatic. She has a knowledge of witchcraft and folklore, and an affinity for the Tarot. But most of all, she’s blazingly intelligent, and Rose, who has had to put her own studies on hold with the birth of her first child, is drawn to her. Shirley’s lack of suitability for the real world—she’s treated as an oddity and a pariah by her husband’s university friends—means she lives in a world of her own, one in which she drinks too much and stays in bed too long, unable to move and, worse, unable to write. When she confronts a blank page, she’s really staring down a demon. She’s so difficult, in her husband’s eyes, that he’s taken up with the ostensibly more attractive wife of a fellow academic—so her sexual power has been diminished too. Shirley isn’t a horror movie in the conventional sense, but it’s a picture that stirs up the murk of so many women’s fears: If I can’t create something of worth, does that mean I too am worthless? If I have a child, what part of myself do I lose—and how do I ever get it back? This movie has a strange, heady earthiness, like an alluring perfume sourced from an enchanted, and somewhat treacherous, forest.

If the season’s most memorable horror movies have been made by women, that’s not to say men aren’t capable or interested in shaping horror scenarios from a woman’s point of view. In Leigh Wannell’s The Invisible Man, released in February, Moss played a woman stalked by the controlling boyfriend—cloaked by an invisibility suit—she’d thought dead. And Janelle Monáe stars in Gerard Bush and Christopher Renz’s upcoming Antebellum, playing a successful modern-day writer who suddenly finds herself living a very different life, in what looks like the pre-Civil War south. Never underestimate the power of the sympathetic imagination, and remember that women are free to explore the dimensions of men’s inner lives, too.

But even though men must feel just as much stress as women do when it comes to doing right by an elderly parent, I’m not sure a man could have made Relic. Emily Mortimer and Bella Heathcote play Kay and Sam, a mother and daughter who drive out to Kay’s mother’s house, way out in the country, when they learn that she hasn’t been seen for days. They let themselves in and poke around her things, tidying up and taking stock of all the placemarkers we use to track exactly where our parents are at as they age. There’s some shriveled fruit stacked in a bowl; little Post-It reminders (“Turn off the stove,” “Switch off the light”) abound, most of them exactly the sort of thing that a person whose memory is failing might write to herself. But among them is one that reads, “Don’t follow it”—a suggestion that she’s being stalked by something, as opposed to someone.

The next morning, Kay’s mother—and Sam’s grandmother—appears in the kitchen, as if she had never gone missing. But something is clearly wrong. Edna, played by Australian actor Robyn Nevin, is herself—yet not herself. One minute her eyes are dancing with warmth; the next they’ve gone cold, as if her own family members have suddenly become hostile strangers. She gives Sam, who’s always adored her, a ring, only to later angrily accuse her of stealing it. Kay, who’s filled with mostly unspecified guilt—does a daughter’s guilt ever have to be specified?—recognizes that she hasn’t been in touch with her mother as often as she should have been. She also thinks it’s time she found a safer place for Edna to live. She visits a nursing home, where the manager says with businesslike cheerfulness, “Think of it as independent living with the edges taken off.” It’s the most chilling line in the movie.

Courtesy of IFC MidnightEmily Mortimer in ‘Relic’

Director Natalie Erika James—who co-wrote the script with Christian White—uses horror-palette colors to explore tensions endemic to mothers and daughters, both between Edna and Kay and between Kay and Sam. Tempers flare over the smallest things; at one point or another, each of the three bristles when she senses another is telling her what to do. There’s nothing supernatural about any of that. But something is happening to Edna—she’s changing in ways that alarm Kay and Sam. Anyone who has watched a parent age—who has seen the number of selves one person can inhabit in a lifetime, moving from one stage to another in a gentle gradient spanning decades—will recognize Kay’s anguish. Relic’s ending is an embrace of terror and tenderness. So many horror filmmakers start out with great ideas and don’t know how to wrap them up. James caps off her debut feature with a quietly intense operatic flourish that feels earned.

If our imaginations are capable of conjuring great horrors as well as wonder, here’s a question: Can we pass our most acute fears, virus-style, on to others? In her shivery, evocative and sometimes surprisingly funny existential thriller She Dies Tomorrow, writer-director Amy Seimetz burrows deep into some of our dumbest 3 a.m. fears and wonders aloud, What if they’re not so dumb? Kate Lyn Sheil plays Amy, a young woman who, as she’s moving into the house she’s just bought, becomes seized with a fear she can’t explain: She’s certain she’s going to die the next day. In a panic, she calls her closest friend, Jane (Jane Adams), begging her to come over. When Jane finally shows up, she tries to talk sense into her friend—only to return home, get into her PJs, and suddenly feel paralyzed by the same fear. When Jane confesses her anxiety to others—to her brother (Chris Messina), to the doctor to whom she goes for treatment (Josh Lucas)—they too downplay her distress, only to find themselves captive to the same debilitating panic minutes later. The whole movie is like a game of telephone in which an urgent message is passed along from one player to another, fuzzy at first before emerging into disquieting clarity.

Courtesy of NeonKate Lyn Sheil in Amy Seimetz’s ‘She Dies Tomorrow’

She Dies Tomorrow takes place in a world much like the one we’re living in right now, one that feels untrustworthy, not fully readable. It’s also a place where we might feel regret about some things we are capable of controlling: at one point, Amy tells a guy who appears to be a fairly new lover (Kentucker Audley) that she once ended a pregnancy. His face clouds over as she elaborates; the information seems to trouble him more than it does her, even though she’s the one who will carry the knowledge of the act forever. She notes that her life would be so different if she’d kept the child; she probably wouldn’t have been able to buy this house. Her practicality is the opposite of coldness—she knows the cost of her choice, because it lives inside her every day.

And what if it’s not the greater world but ourselves we can’t trust? Our certainty that we’ll have a tomorrow amounts not to everyday optimism but to a kind of arrogance—though we probably need that self-reassurance to survive. This is less a movie about death than one concerned with how we go through life without giving too much thought about its stopping, though that’s a certainty for all of us. Even when we think we’re thinking about death, we don’t really know what to think: No one trustworthy has yet returned from the other side to tell us what it’s all about. She Dies Tomorrow is all about the unreclaimable yesterday, the day before we knew. It’s a thoughtful movie with no jump scares; its jitters are baked all the way through.

Fear of death isn’t specific to women, obviously—the male characters in Seimetz’s movie are susceptible to it too. But maybe, given women’s often complex relationship with aging—which includes the fear of losing sexual allure—our fear of death has a slightly different tenor from the way men experience it. In Shirley, the aging, matronly protagonist is not only unable to write, which is her chief measure of her own self-worth; her husband has also taken up with a supposedly superior woman—and isn’t the moment we lose faith in our own magnetism itself a small death? Watching our parents age, as Kay does in Relic, is the ultimate reminder that we’re next; it’s also a test of our mettle when we see the traits that have calcified in our forebears begin to manifest themselves, in smaller ways, in us. In Amulet, the exhausted Magda has a different problem: she’s simply waiting for her mother to die, so she can be free. All of these movies were conceived and made before we had any sense of how a worldwide pandemic would shape and circumscribe our lives. But all, in some way, speak of constricted freedom, of carrying on with life until it decides it’s through with us. They’re about all the things we can’t protect ourselves from, what we used to call, in more innocent times, fear of the unknown. Now we know what to fear, only to realize that knowing isn’t necessarily better.

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

[willreadforbooze]

Hello!

Here’s our weekly wrap up from the WRFB crew =)

Linz’s Updates

Got drunk Friday. Got less drunk Saturday. Celery and sadness the rest of the week.

What Linz read:

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone: Two figures, Red and Blue, fight for opposite teams in a war to change the course of time, and they start to fall in love. REALLY cool concept, but there’s a lot that was left to be explained–and I suspect they could have done so if this weren’t just a novella.

It All Comes Back to You by Beth Duke: I’ve been trying to make use of my Kindle Unlimited trial, so I read this novel that bounces between a nursing home aide writing a book about a now-dead patient’s life, and the actual events of the patient’s life. Meh–unhealthy relationships, questionable motivations, and a major fail of the Bechdel Test.

Now Entering Addamsville by Francesca Zappia: A rebel girl tries to prove she didn’t commit a string of arsons without telling the truth, because that would mean telling people she sees ghosts and fights demons. Review tk, but I really enjoyed reading this book.

Cursed by Thomas Wheeler (illustrated by Frank Miller): You’ve all seen the very catchy Netflix-toned ARC cover, you’ve all seen this at every book festival this year. Review tk, but…yikes.

What Linz is reading:

Recursion by Blake Crouch: I literally have no idea what this is about, I picked it up because I really liked Dark Matter and everyone else on our team has loved this book. I’m 2.5 chapters in and goddamn I may finish this today.

Ginny’s Updates:

Whatsup! I’ve had a great week. Went to see a Cirque du Soleil show for my Birthday on Tuesday with some of my amazing friends, and as always my mind was BLOWN! I tried to branch out this week and read a little more things outside of my norm. I’ll let you know how that went, but first:

Currently reading:

Breathless by Beverly Jenkins: This is the second book in a series, the first book was Forbidden which I covered in a previous weekly wrap up. This book focuses on one of Eddy’s nieces and one of the other minor characters. This series is charming and does a really nice job of creating the atmosphere of the old west. I’m really enjoying Portia’s personality and the way Kent is so laid back.

After the Flood by Kassandra Montag: This is one of the ARC’s we got from somewhere and it takes place in a flooded world. It’s pretty damn heavy on the dystopian. I’m about 70 pages in and I get the feeling this might get DNF’d, not because the book is bad, but just because I’m not sure I’m in the right place to read something like this. Myra is traveling with her 8 year old daughter and finds out that her 12 year old daughter (who had been kidnapped by her shitty shitty husband) might have been sold basically to slavers… It’ll be interesting to see which list this ends up on for me next week.

Finished:

Half-Off Ragnarok by Seanan McGuire: This is the third book in the InCryptid series and it switches focus from Verity, to her older brother Alex. Alex lives in Ohio with his grandparents working at a zoo which is a great cover for his interest in cryptozoology. I’m planning on writing a review for this one, so no more info here.

Lord Dashwood Missed Out by Tessa Dare: I think I’ve read other things by Tessa Dare and picked this one out because of a twitter thread about the “enemies to lovers” trope which I occasionally find delightful. As a note, this was a novella, so pretty damn short. But they were childhood friends and he was a bit of an ass to her before disappearing for years. She wrote a book about it and when he comes back she’s right pissed at him. Obviously it works out in the end. But a quick fun read. 3.5/5

My Best Friend’s Mardi Gras Wedding by Erin Nicholas: I have this book club where I read free romance novels from Amazon with a few of my friends. This one was a lot better than the ones that we usually read. Definitely had a few issues (starting out with the leads have painfully cringey flirtations at the beginning of the book and ending with the wrong person uprooting their entire life plus the addition of a probably too bitchy fiance of the heroines best friend). Regardless, the cast of this was pretty fun. 3/5

Trouble in Lafayette Square: Assassination, Protest Murder at the White House by Gil Klein: This book takes snapshot looks at pieces of history in one small square of the nations capital. The book follows a fairly linear timeline and especially early on there’s a fair amount of overlap. It was a good reminder for a local about the amount of history that is steeped in the vast majority of the city I walk through on a daily basis. 4.5/5

How to Lose a Bride in One Night by Sophie Jordan: This book had it’s moments but there was definitely a certain amount of sexual assault and I’m kind of in the camp of offering warnings for that somewhere.

The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards: This book starts in the mid-60s when a doctor and his wife has twins. The girl has downs syndrome and the doctor gives the baby away before his wife wakes up form the gas they used to give women who gave birth (gonna be honest, the “twilight” births sound kind of great. Wish they still did those) and tells his wife the baby died instead. The book follows the lives of the Dr, wife, and son, to be compared with the life of the nurse who took the baby and raised her as her own. It’s an interesting look at grief and the ways a single decision can ripple out. That being said I’m very conflicted about the way that I feel about this book and the way that the people with Downs Syndrome are treated. I think it could be a realistic portrayal, but I’ can’t tell whether or not it’s also infantalizing. 2.5/5

Sam’s Updates

It was a fun week! Ginny’s and Mama’s birthday, went to the show, it was awesome. Got drunk on Friday, and then also last night. I am hurting pretty bad this morning (she says, at 4:39 in the afternoon).

What I read this week:

Four Dead Queens by Astrid Scholte: In this story, the country is divided into four quadrants each with their own specialty, run by their own queen. Enter our everyday thief and she finds out about a plot to kill the queens. Off we go on our adventure. I listened to this on audio, and it was fine. not great, but not bad either. Insta-love was a thing and so was the “plot twist”.

Only Human by Sylvain Neuvel: This is the third book in the Themis Files. I was talking about this with Parker this week, while I LOVED book 1, and book 2 was alright, this one has shifted tone drastically. I didn’t mind the end at all. But I sorta wanted more from it.

What I’m currently reading:

Steeltide by Natalie C. Parker: This is the second book in the Seafire series, which I didn’t enjoy as much as I wanted to, but THIS book. THIS BOOK is significantly better than the first. I love it when that happens.

The Girl From Everywhere by Heidi Heilig: This story is about a girl on a pirate ship that can travel through time. Her dad, the captain, is tryna get back to Hawaii so he can save his wife, but it may mean that our lady may cease to exist. I’m doin ok with this. I think, like Linz, I struggle with this author. Audiobook format is helping though. Idk what the plot is supposed to be yet.

Minda’s Updates

What Minda is reading now:

On Swift Horses by Shannon Pufahl – Based in the post-war American west, this woman and her brother-in-law are living a restless and divergent life on the road. Haven’t gotten very far yet.

Mrs. Everything by Jennifer Weiner – This story is about two sisters growing up in the suburbs of Detroit in the 1950s. As we follow them through their lives, things don’t go according to plan. Enjoying so far!

Weekly Wrap Up: September 16-22, 2019 Hello! Here’s our weekly wrap up from the WRFB crew =) Linz's Updates Got drunk Friday. Got less drunk Saturday.

[fitnesshealthyoga-blog]

New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/she-wanted-to-be-the-perfect-mom-then-landed-in-a-psychiatric-unit/

She Wanted To Be The Perfect Mom, Then Landed In A Psychiatric Unit

Lisa Abramson says that even after all she has been through — the helicopters circling her house, the snipers on the roof, and the car ride to jail — she still wants to have a second child.

That’s because right after her daughter was born in 2014 — before all that trouble began — everything felt amazing. Lisa was smitten, just like she had imagined she would be. She would look into her baby’s round, alert eyes and feel the adrenaline rush through her. She had so much energy. She was so excited.

“I actually was thinking like, ‘I don’t get why other moms say they’re so tired, or this is so hard. I got this,’ ” she says.

Lisa wanted to be the perfect mom. She was ready to be the perfect mom. She and her husband lived in San Francisco, and Lisa had worked as a successful entrepreneur and as a marketing executive for a Silicon Valley tech company. When it came to starting her family, she was organized and ready to go. And that first week after her baby was born, everything was going according to plan. The world was nothing but love.

David Abramson found “postpartum psychosis” on the Internet after his wife, Lisa, developed signs of anxiety and delusions in 2014 after their daughter Lucy was born. Studies suggest the condition affects about one or two women out of every thousand who give birth. (Courtesy of Claire Mulkey)

Then the baby started losing weight, and the pediatrician told Lisa to feed her every two hours.

Lisa started to feel like she couldn’t keep up.

“It weighed on me as, ‘I’ve failed as a mom. I can’t feed my child,’ ” she says. “I needed to feed her — that was the most important thing. And my well-being didn’t matter.”

She was barely sleeping. Even when she could get a release from what felt like breastfeeding purgatory, she couldn’t relax. As she got more and more exhausted, she started to get confused.

Lisa thought going to a spin class would help. This was something she usually loved. But after 10 minutes, she fled the room.

“The noises and intense volume of the spin class was really alarming to me,” Lisa says, “It felt like the walls were talking to me.”

Then, back at home, she noticed police helicopters circling over their apartment. “There were snipers on the roof,” she remembers thinking, “and there were spy cams in our bedroom and everyone was watching me. And my cellphone was giving me weird messages.”

Lisa waited for the police to burst in and take her away. But the next morning, she woke up in her own bed.

The cops must have arrested the nanny instead, she decided. That was wrong, Lisa thought to herself. The nanny shouldn’t be punished for my crime.

Lisa told her husband it wasn’t fair. She was going to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge.

And that was when her husband told her he was going to drive her to the police station himself.

“It was like, ‘Oh, OK, he’s taking me in, and I guess I’m getting arrested,’ ” Lisa says.

Her husband, David Abramson, remembers it as one of the worst days of his life.

“I’m bringing my wife to the hospital and then checking her into an inpatient unit,” says David, explaining what really happened that day. “It was really, really challenging.”

Not jail, but a psych ward

There had been no crime after all — and no snipers and no spy cams. The nanny hadn’t been arrested, and Lisa’s destination that day wasn’t a jail cell, but rather the general psychiatric ward at Sutter Health’s California Pacific Medical Center in San Francisco.

The other patients were there for drug overdoses or alcohol withdrawal. People were screaming. One patient thought he was a dog and was crawling around on all fours, barking. To David, it didn’t seem like the right place for a new mom.

“That was probably the most heart-wrenching thing, was having to leave her that night with the hospital staff,” he says. “You could see in her eyes and her body language that she was panicked.”

For the first five days, Lisa says, she didn’t speak to anyone.

“I don’t know if I couldn’t speak, or I wasn’t speaking,” she says, “but I was terrified enough of the environment that I decided I wasn’t going to answer anyone’s questions.”

Lisa doesn’t remember any doctors or nurses telling her why she was there or what was going on. But she does remember, about a week into her hospitalization, her husband bringing a printout from online about postpartum psychosis.

The article said elevated hormones from childbirth — plus sleep deprivation — can trigger confusion and paranoia. Lisa didn’t believe it — she thought her husband was tricking her and had spent hours using Photoshop to piece together a fake article.

“I really was just like, ‘No. I’ve heard of postpartum depression,’ ” she says. “No! I have never heard that there’s postpartum crazy.”

New data on moms who die by suicide

But postpartum psychosis is real. Studies suggest it affects about one or two women out of every thousand who give birth; some doctors now think even more women than that are affected, but go undiagnosed. Without proper treatment, some of those women end up dying — by suicide.

California researchers just finished their first big study on maternal suicides. The state’s public health department hasn’t published the findings yet, KQED was able to review some of the data: 99 new moms in the state died by suicide over a 10-year period.

The investigators determined that of those 99 suicides, 98 were preventable. The women might be alive today if the health care system in California had done a better job screening women, diagnosing their illness and treating them.

“The work that we do here is less than 10 percent of what needs to be done,” says Dr. Nirmaljit Dhami, a psychiatrist at El Camino Hospital in Mountain View, Calif. She helped review the suicides but did not share data from the report with journalists.

Dhami is an expert on postpartum mental illness and often treats cases of postpartum psychosis that OB-GYNs mishandled. Based on her clinical experience and observations, she says, a lot of doctors don’t know the early signs of postpartum psychosis and don’t know that the symptoms wax and wane.

“A lot of times the patient will present very clearly, then at other times, will present with acute confusion and disorganization,” Dhami says.

It’s what happened to Lisa Abramson — feeling like she was of sound mind one moment and then believing the walls were talking to her in the next.

“This is a symptom that clinicians who are not trained in this field can easily miss,” Dhami says, “because when they see the patient in their office with the family, they can think that the patient is normal and is probably suffering from sleep deprivation — and discharge them home.”

That’s how women can end up dead. In the U.S., mental health problems are one of main contributors to maternal mortality, according to a 2018 report from a Centers for Disease Control and Prevention initiative called Building U.S. Capacity to Review and Prevent Maternal Deaths. On the report’s list of causes of death among new moms, mental health problems (which include drug overdoses) rank seventh — nearly tied with the complications of high blood pressure. For white women, mental health problems are the fourth leading cause of death.

Even when new moms do get referred for psychiatric care in the days and weeks after their child’s birth, Dhami says, the care is often inadequate or inappropriate. Doctors prescribe the wrong medications. Insurance companies push patients out of psychiatric units before they are ready. And the staff of psych units, generally, are not trained in these illnesses, Dhami says, and may not be equipped to care for even the most basic physical needs of new moms.

For example, when Lisa Abramson first arrived at the psych ward, her husband told the medical resident who admitted her that he thought Lisa had postpartum psychosis. The resident said to him, “Postpartum what?”

Then, several days into Lisa’s stay, she complained of pain in her breasts. She had stopped breastfeeding when she left home, and it didn’t seem to occur to anyone that her breasts would become engorged.

Her husband had to negotiate with the staff to bring in Lisa’s breast pump from home.

She remembers that when she wanted to pump, she had to use a room with padded walls that looked like a solitary confinement chamber — “what you’d imagine from a terror movie,” Lisa says.

But the worst thing of all was not being allowed to see her baby daughter. The inpatient unit has a strict policy: No infants or children on the ward. The hospital says this is intended as a safety measure for everybody.

Her family lobbied on her behalf.

“They said, ‘She’s a new mom and she needs to see her baby. That’s keeping this bond going, it’s important,’ ” Lisa recalls, tearing up. “That was the hard part, was not getting to see her.”

About five days into her time there, Lisa’s family was able to negotiate permission for one-hour visits with her daughter, but they were supervised by a person who kept looking at his watch.

Lisa’s family was so unhappy with her care at the hospital, that her husband decided he needed to get her out of there. They found Dhami and asked her to take over Lisa’s treatment.

Dhami enrolled Lisa in a comprehensive outpatient program she runs at El Camino Hospital, called the Maternal Outreach Mood Services (MOMS) program, where the new mother can bring her baby along during appointments.

California Pacific Medical Center declined to comment on Lisa’s case specifically, even though Lisa authorized the hospital to discuss her medical records. The hospital’s inpatient psychiatric medical director, Dr. Stephanie Wilson, says that breast pumps are now available to women who need them and that health care providers review new moms’ wishes to see their babies on a case-by-case basis.

“We take into full consideration all of the circumstances and the details of that patient, of the infant — and really seeing what, if any, benefit or even potential harm, it could have to the mother,” Wilson says. “Once the symptoms of depression and psychosis start to get better, that’s when I would start to allow more visitations.”

A different kind of care for moms

There’s plenty of research, dating back to the 1940s, on the ideal protocols for inpatient treatment of postpartum mental illnesses. The gold standard is to admit the mother and the baby into the hospital together, on a specialized mother-baby unit, where they’re treated as a pair.

Part of the mom’s therapy in these units is getting guidance on how to read the baby’s cues and how to meet the baby’s needs — as well as her own. At night, the baby sleeps in a supervised nursery, so the mom can get uninterrupted sleep.

In the United Kingdom, there are 21 of these mother-baby psychiatric units. In France, there are 15. They exist in Belgium and New Zealand and one in India.

But in the U.S., there are zero.

The closest approximation can be found in North Carolina, 3,000 miles from where Lisa lives, in the hospital at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill.

The perinatal psychiatric unit here is reserved exclusively for pregnant women and new moms.

“There is a need for them to see other moms going through what they’re going through,” says Dr. Mary Kimmel, the psychiatrist who runs the unit. She wears a denim jacket and black suede ankle boots, and whenever a patient wants to know whether she’s a mom too, she says yes, she has two kids.

Every room has a hospital-grade breast pump, Kimmel says, and there’s a lactation consultant who helps women with breastfeeding. The unit has a designated refrigerator for moms to store pumped milk.

Psychiatrist Mary Kimmel runs the mom’s psychiatry unit at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. (KQED)

The most distinctive feature about the program is the visitor policy.

“Babies can come to the unit, and we really encourage that,” Kimmel says. “We encourage older kids to also come to the unit.”

Most afternoons, toddlers scurry around the day room or color, play with toys and play with each other. Women cradle their visiting newborns, rocking them, feeding them.

The babies are not allowed to stay overnight though. Unlike the units in Europe, there’s no nursery here. The main reasons for that policy are the restrictions of U.S. insurance plans.

Kimmel says no insurer in the U.S. would ever pay for a healthy baby to be admitted to a hospital.

“That baby doesn’t have a distinct need to be admitted and so it’s not possible to bill for that baby being at the hospital,” she says. And without that, the hospital can’t afford to run a nursery.

The days on the UNC unit are very structured, with a range of treatments. There’s one-on-one therapy and lots of group classes: parenting and time management lessons, for example, where women practice asking their partner for help; relaxation classes; and spiritual counseling.

Alice Sarti says the moms unit at UNC was the first place that gave her hope as a new mother. After she gave birth to her son, she became engulfed by mania. She had dealt with depression many times before, she says, but never this.

“Every minute I had to fill with a task: researching day cares, doing and re-doing my budget,” she remembers. “I’m not going to line up three bottles — I’m going to line up 17 bottles.”

She loved how productive she was. She’s a business analyst and loves getting things done. But then, everything started to spiral.

“There was a definite snap,” she says. “I started yelling about things that didn’t make sense. They made sense to me.”

To her family, it was just an incoherent rage. They called the police and they took Alice to the nearest hospital that had an available bed — not the mom’s unit at UNC, but rather a general psych ward, several towns away.

“You saw people that couldn’t speak, that could barely walk,” she says. “People were discharged in that condition.”

Alice refused to take any meds, making her unpopular with the staff.

“I did have a social worker tell me I was going to lose my child if I didn’t ‘pull it together,’ ” she says.

During her three-week stay, she saw her son once, for 20 minutes.

“I was not able to touch him on any level. He was in his car seat and I reached for him and I was yelled at,” she says.

It’s hard for her to admit what it was like coming back to him, after she was discharged.

“It felt like a burden, “Alice says. “It felt like, ‘How am I ever going to do this?’ I held him, I bathed him, and I did all the things — but the connection was not there. I lost time with my son and I’m never going to get it back.”

Alice was treated at two hospitals, never feeling any better, before she ended up at the moms psych unit at UNC Chapel Hill.

Finally, everyone seemed to understand what she was going through, she says — the pressure she was feeling and the guilt. She saw her son regularly, and staff helped her start to re-establish her bond with him.

“It was this incredibly nurturing environment,” she says. “It changed the trajectory of my life, and my son’s life.”

Yet, even in this seemingly perfect place, things can go wrong. By the time Alice was discharged, her mania had cleared. But then she slipped into the deepest, darkest depression she had ever known. She checked herself back into UNC, afraid she was going to kill herself.

With Alice, and with other patients, doctors are under so much pressure to get moms home quickly that sometimes they overshoot on the medications, Kimmel explains. Some of that pressure comes from the moms themselves, who want to be with their kids, but it also comes from the insurance companies.

UNC’s moms unit pays the bills like other hospitals — they take commercial insurance and Medicaid to cover the costs of care.

But the longer a patient stays, the more an insurer has to pay, and that’s not good for its bottom line. Kimmel and other doctors say as soon as a patient comes off suicide watch, insurers start calling, asking when she can go home.

“Our average length of stay runs from about one week to two weeks,” Kimmel says.

And in Europe? “About 40 to 50 days is the average length of stay there,” she says.

That means that some U.S. doctors may start their patients on new drugs but not have time to see if they work well. Or they have to start women on the most intense medications right away — medications that force her to stop breastfeeding — instead of slower-acting therapies that could allow a mother more time to feed her infant breast milk.

It also means that patients like Alice can end up hospitalized four times before they get the right treatment they need to truly recover.

Insurers insist the decision to discharge is not just about cost, but about what’s best for patients.

Hospitals are not necessarily the ideal environment for making sure medications are stabilized, says Kate Berry, senior vice president of Clinical Innovation for America’s Health Insurance Plans, a trade group for insurers.

“There are other settings where the care can continue,” she says, “such as a partial hospital or an intensive outpatient care setting that may be more supportive of having the mom and the baby together.”

Alice Sarti says mental hospitals in the U.S. are just warehousing people. Only the mom’s unit felt like a place of healing.

“It’s a different kind of place,” she says. “It’s the type of mental health care that everyone should have access to — not just mothers. That’s what mental health care in this country should look like. And it doesn’t come close.”

Right now, UNC is the only hospital in the country that has a designated psych unit just for pregnant women and new moms. A hospital in New York has a women-only unit. And El Camino Hospital, where Dhami practices in California, will soon start construction on a women-only psych unit, with a special focus on the needs of new moms. It is slated to open in 2019.

Ready to try again

Lisa Abramson is playing catch with her daughter Lucy.

“Ready? Set? Go!” Lucy shouts, and Lisa rolls her a small rubber soccer ball.

Lisa feels like she’s back to her normal self. But she has been thinking a lot about her experience with postpartum psychosis.

Despite everything, she decided to have another baby.

“That was the most courageous moment of my life,” she says. “Without knowing anything [about] how this is really going to work out, let’s try it again.”

She was terrified, though, that the psychosis would come back.

“They say there’s about a 50 percent chance,” she says. “I can try to set up a more optimal situation, but you also just don’t know — and it’s out of your control, which is hard.”

The No. 1 thing she wanted to avoid was going back to the hospital.

“The hospitalization was probably the most traumatic [aspect] of the whole experience,” Lisa says.

These days, she loves being a mom, she says. Lucy is 5 now. Her second daughter, Vivian, is 18 months old.

The psychosis did not come back after Vivian’s birth, in part because of all the precautions Lisa took. She made sure she got enough sleep. She gave herself permission to give up breastfeeding if it became too much.

“We’ve got so many messages of just self-sacrifice,” Lisa says. ” ‘Do anything for your kids.’ ‘Drop everything. That’s what it means to be a good mom.’ And for me, that’s not what made me a good mom. That’s what made me fall apart.

“I’m trying to put myself first — guilt-free — and know that that makes me a better mom.”

This story is part of NPR’s reporting partnership with KQED, the California Report and Kaiser Health News.

Copyright NPR 2019.

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[celticheartedfangirl]

Dearie -- a Rumbelle AU -- Chapter Two . . . .

Summary:  Michael Gold is an out of work actor with a bad reputation. Desperate for a job, he auditions for a role on a soap opera – dressed as a woman – and gets the part. He also meets the woman of his dreams, who has no idea that he is actually a man, and has to contend with several obstacles as he takes on this role of a lifetime; a role that may end up costing him more than he’s willing to pay. This is a Rumbelle AU of the movie Tootsie. 

This is a Rumbelle AU based on the movie Tootsie. If you have not seen the film, you will still be able to follow the story. However, if you haven’t seen the film, I highly recommend it - it’s a classic!

Thank you to those who have given this fic a chance! If you're new - welcome! Just another author's note to add to the ones that I gave in the previous chapter: This is supposed to be a comedy fic. I am putting this out there up front - I am using the character of Killian Jones as a comic relief caricature. I, personally, do not like the character, but I feel that, based on MY impression of him - he fits the role that I am giving him, which is a supporting role. If you are a Hook fan, and you have a sense of humor - you may very well enjoy this fic.  If you are a Hook fan and you are not capable of viewing Hook in a less-than-positive light . . . . this fic isn't for you. Thank you for the look and for your consideration. Please move on.

Also, from here on, any time Gold interacts with any character other than David, Neal, or Cora - presume that he is doing so dressed and speaking as Barbara Michaels.

Chapter 1: Meet Barbara Michaels

Read on AO3    Read on ffnet

Chapter Two: Storybooke General

Neal sat in stunned silence as Gold explained to him about the role he was undertaking – all while his father painted the fake nails that he was planning to apply to his fingertips. Well, make that two roles: Gloria Darktower, Hospital Administrator for Storybrooke General, and Barbara Michaels – actress. "Papa – are you crazy?"

"No, I have a job, with a steady income. What's crazy about that?" Gold asked.

"Because I've been sitting here for the last hour watching my father styling a woman's wig, giving himself a manicure and trying to figure out which handbag matches which outfit."

"Neal, I'm doing this for you – don't you see that? With this job, I'll make enough money to rent a theatre to do your play. This could be your big break, son. Although this will be one of the greatest acting challenges ever. Now, I already told them that I have a skin allergy and I need to do my own makeup and hair. There is one problem, though."

"Cramps?" Neal joked. Gold glared at him.

"Cora. I mean, how do I tell her that she lost the part to a man? She'll lose her mind. I could – I could offer her the female lead in your play. If that would be alright with you. Might be a good distraction for her."

"And – what exactly will you tell her when she asks how we came up with the money to produce this play?"

"I don't know – an inheritance or something. Anything but the truth, I suppose."

"Papa, you know I'm normally against lying but in this case – I'm all for it."

"I suppose you're right. You don't mind if I offer her the part then, right?"

"Papa – this is all a disaster waiting to happen. Don't forget that I told you that when everything implodes."

"It's not going to implode. I signed a standard contract, it's a three-month role. I'll get the money, we'll get the play off the ground, and everything will be fine."

"Michael, are you serious? You mean it?" Cora asked excitedly as Gold handed her Neal's script.

"Part's yours if you want it," he said. "We'll have a place secured in three months."

"I can't believe your aunt died and left you just the amount of money you needed, that's amazing! I mean – sad, but still -"

"Yes, well, we all have to go someday, right? How about we go out to dinner tonight and celebrate? My treat."

"Oh that sounds great, let me take a shower first! Be right out!" Cora darted into the bathroom. While she was showering, Gold looked in the mirror and sized himself up, trying to picture himself as his alter-ego, Barbara Michaels. Needing more inspiration, he snuck into Cora's bedroom and opened her closet door. There was a dress hanging on the door itself, and Gold picked up the dress and took it over to the mirror, to see how he would look in it. No, it wasn't enough – he needed to try it on. Gold removed his shirt and his pants and was just about to reach for and put on the dress when Cora stepped out of the shower and into the bedroom, wearing nothing but a towel and dripping wet. Cora let out a loud squeal.

"Michael, what are you doing?" she asked, eyeing Gold up and down as he stood there in nothing but his underwear. Gold looked around nervously – he could either tell her the truth, or he could figure out something else. But there was nothing else that didn't make him look like an utter pervert – except maybe one thing.

"Cora, I want you," Gold said.

"You want me?" Cora asked.

"Yes – very much," he replied.

Cora lay in bed as Gold stood up and got dressed. "Will I ever see you again?" Cora asked.

"Cora, come on, we've known each other for a year now, and we're doing a play together in three months, of course you'll see me again."

"Sex changes things," Cora said.

"It's not changing anything with us, alright? I'll call you tomorrow."

"Michael – if this whole thing is gonna be painful, let's just get it over with now."

"Okay – dinner tomorrow. Alright? Let's just make that definite right now."

"You mean it?" Cora asked.

"Of course I do," Gold said, wondering if he should have simply told her about the part.

Gold arrived at the studio barely on time, dressed as Barbara in full hair and makeup, having gotten up early to get ready for his first day on the set. One of the set pages showed him to his dressing room. "We'll need you on the set in about fifteen minutes," the girl said. Gold entered the dressing room – only to find a girl in there, with long brown hair, dressed only in her underwear and sitting in front of the mirror.

"Oh I – I'm sorry," Gold said, trying not to stare.

"It's okay. I'm Ruby Lucas, you must be Barbara," Ruby said.

"Yes – oh my, this is a lovely table," Gold said, doing everything possible to avert his eyes. "Oh, look, even a socket for a plug right there."

"Yeah, we have everything," Ruby said. "Go ahead, make yourself at home, we're gonna be dressing room buddies."

"Yes – apparently so," Gold said. A knock came on the door, and the page opened it.

"Miss Michaels I forgot to give you these – some last-minute additions for today," the page said, and she handed Gold the script and left. Gold looked over the script.

"Oh, they always throw stuff at you last minute," Ruby said. "Get used to it."

"Oh my goodness," Gold said, looking through the script.

"What's wrong?" Ruby asked.

"I have to kiss Dr. Hook," Gold said.

"Oh, yeah – he kisses all the women on the show. We call him 'the tongue,'" Ruby said. "Just try to stay out of his view of the cue cards or he'll freak out, he's completely lost without them, can't memorize his lines for shit." Gold's face was overcome with panic. Now what was he going to do?

"Hey, can you please keep that racket down for five minutes, that set was supposed to be complete before we got here this morning and we're already behind!" Gaston shouted at the construction crew that was working in the background. He approached the brunette actress dressed in a nurses' outfit, the same girl that helped Gold pick up his script during the audition, and the man who was lying in the hospital bed on the set. "Okay – now you know how this is supposed to go, right honey? You're trying to get the IV back in and he grabs you and kisses you and you don't want him to stop."

"Gaston – he just came out of a two-month coma, isn't this a bit ridiculous?" she asked.

"Look – we're not trying to make some grand dramatic statement here, why are you always arguing with me? Just play it the way the script says!" Gaston shouted at her. "Okay, let's GO!"

"Lighting's not right," one of the men on the set said.

"Jesus Christ Leroy, would you FIX IT then! We've got twenty scenes to shoot and I'd like to get them done before the weekend!" Gaston shouted. Gold entered the set wings as Gaston was going on his tirade, watching him yell at the brunette actress and the lighting man. Gaston looked at one of the set pages. "Go get me a cup of coffee, Le Fou," he demanded.

"Sure, Mr. H. You want something, Miss French?" Le Fou asked. The actress was about to speak up, when Gaston interrupted.

"No, she doesn't need anything, she's good," Gaston said. The pretty brunette sighed but said nothing. Not wanting to wait until Gaston was done yelling at people, which could possibly be never based on what he was observing, Gold decided to make his move.

"Um – excuse me – Mr. Hunter -" Gold began as he walked onto the set, script in hand.

"Ah, there you are. Filming is delayed, you're gonna have to wait, some people don't know how to DO THEIR JOB!" Gaston shouted as the lighting crew worked fervently to fix the problems. "Might as well introduce you – Belle, this is Barbara Michaels, new hospital administrator," he said to the actress in the nurses' outfit.

"Hi – we met the other day. Belle French – hospital slut," Belle joked. "Nice to meet you." Gold was immediately captivated by her. "I play Lacey Winters – looks like your first scene is with me."

"Yes – looks that way, doesn't it?" Gold said, trying his best not to stare at her.

"Okay, they'll be ready to go in sixty seconds – go wait out in the hallway, will you sweetie?" Gaston said to Gold, and then he grabbed Gold by the shoulders and physically moved him to the doorway, as if he were moving a doll. Gold silently cringed at the man's obvious misogyny. When he reached the doorway, there was a man standing there. He was tall, with dark hair, and wearing a doctor's jacket. He was talking with Jefferson, who was wearing a different hat than he had worn at the audition.

"Barbara," Jefferson said. "I'd like you to meet Killian Jones. Killian – this is Barbara Michaels – your new boss. On the show, of course."

"Barbara – delighted," Jones said, and he took Gold's hand and kissed it. Gold couldn't pull away fast enough. "I'm Doctor Schuyler Hook – chief of staff."

"You – you're Dr. Hook?" Gold asked.

"Yes – I believe we're up next," Jones said, grinning at Gold a bit. He took Jefferson aside. "I have to kiss her?" Jones asked in a whisper.

"She's not that bad," Jefferson said. "I'd do her."

"You'd do anything," Jones said. "I've had worse, I suppose."

"She's only a few years older than you," Jefferson said.

"Shut up," Jones replied.

"Are we READY yet?" Gaston asked angrily.

"Yeah, ready," Leroy, the lighting director, said.

"Finally," Gaston said.

"Um – again – as I was asking before," Gold began to Gaston, "about this script -"

"Look, you got a problem with the writing, honey, you take it up with the writers, I just make sure it doesn't look like shit on camera." Gaston said tersely. Belle noticed that Gold was frustrated and looked up at him – or rather, at Barbara – with an understanding smirk. "Let's GO, I'm not eating lunch at five o'clock again!"

Gold filmed his first scene as hospital administrator Gloria Darktower. Also in the scene with him were Belle French as nurse Lacey Winters, Killian Jones as Dr. Schuyler Hook, and the patient in the hospital bed that Nurse Winters was making out with. Once that scene was completed, the next scene to be filmed – which he was dreading – was with Jones, and it took place in the corridor. It was an argument scene, which was supposed to end with Jones' character, Dr. Hook, kissing Gold's character, Gloria Darktower. Not wanting that to happen, Gold quickly thought of a way to remedy this while staying in character. The way the script read, it appeared to Gold that the doctor and his new superior had a prior relationship that didn't end well, so Gold chose to improvise. When Jones moved in to kiss him, Gold lifted up the stack of files he was carrying as a prop, hit Jones over the head with them, and chastised his character for the inappropriate advance. Jones stood there, dumbfounded. Gaston called "Cut!" and Gold turned to see a scowl on the director's face, and Belle, the pretty brunette actress, standing in the wings watching – and laughing. Gold cringed once again as Gaston walked over to him, an angry scowl on his face.

"I was supposed to kiss her!" Jones shouted, but no one paid attention.

"Mr. Hunter – I know what was on the script but as I tried to tell you, it was my instinct that it would be more in character for Gloria to react that way, she wouldn't allow a man like Dr. Hook to be groping, especially not in a work situation."

"It was good instinct," Belle chimed in.

"Hey – I'll handle instincts here," Gaston snarled at Belle. "Well, this time it happened to be a good instinct, dear, but next time you want to change something, you discuss it with me. Got it?" Gold wasn't sure whether to be offended or dumbfounded, given that he tried to do exactly that prior to shooting the scene. He had to remind himself that he wasn't Michael Gold, who would have already slugged this arrogant ass multiple times by now; he was Barbara Michaels, actress. She wouldn't do that.

"Yes, I – I'll make sure I do that," Gold replied, practically choking on the words.

"Alright, Belle, you're on set ten in five minutes, let's go," Jefferson said to Belle. He gave Gold a thumbs up and a wink, clearly liking what was done in that scene.

"Great job," Belle said, smiling at Gold as she walked by him to get to her next set. Gold couldn't help but stare at her as she walked by. The entire time this exchange was going on, Killian Jones was standing around, still taking in what had happened on set. He began to observe this new actress, Barbara Michaels, in a very different light than when they first met. Gold was about to walk off the set when Jones stopped him.

"Barbara," Jones said to Gold.

"Um – yes?" Gold replied.

"That was – that was wonderful. We haven't had a truly consummate actress like you on this show for ages – possibly ever. I can't wait to work with you again, it's clear to me that there's so much I can learn from you," Jones said.

"Well – thank you very much, you did very well yourself," Gold replied in a patronizing tone that went right over Jones' head.

"Welcome to Storybrooke General," Jones said, and before Gold knew what was happening, Jones grabbed him and kissed him on the lips, and then he smiled and sauntered away, as Gold stood there in shock.

Gold exited the building after a full day of work, and saw Belle standing in front of the doorway signing autographs for a few fans that were waiting outside. He approached her when she was finished.

"Thank you, Miss French, for making it such a nice first day on the set for me," Gold said to her.

"Oh, you call me Belle, please. And we'll see if you still feel that way in few weeks. You did great today," Belle said.

"Hey – Belle! Let's go!" Gaston shouted as he stood in the doorway of a waiting cab. Gold looked up in surprise – why was he waiting for her, he wondered.

"Hey, you need a ride anywhere? Maybe you can stop with us and have a drink?" Belle suggested.

'Us?' Gold thought to himself. Was she dating that arrogant ass?

"Um – no thank you, I – I think I'll just be going home," Gold replied.

"Okay – see you tomorrow then," Belle said. Belle walked toward the cab, and Gaston patted her on the behind as she entered. Gold flinched at the sight of it. What was a beautiful, smart, funny and sweet girl doing with that creep? She could do so much better. He sighed as he walked down the street, heading home.