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truthofherdreams · 9 months ago

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poetry, beauty, romance, love

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Belle stops in front of the door to the lecture hall, trying her best to calm her laboured breaths as she presses a hand to her chest. A group of students walks toward her in the corridor, so she takes a sip of her water as to hide her discomfort, although she is certain her red cheeks are betraying her anyway.

The walk from her College to the Medical Sciences building is a short one - on purpose - but she is yet to get accustomed to the strain on her heart every time she exerts herself, even slightly. She tried a bike instead, on her very first day in Oxford, but the results were not any better. Hopefully, her body will get used to those brisk walks across the city.

Thankfully, the lecture hall is almost empty when she enters, a whole half-hour before the lecture is actually meant to start, so Belle takes her time going down the steps, all the way to the very first row. She selects her seat slightly to the left of the room, close to the still empty lectern. Behind her, two other students talk to each other in small whispers, while a girl at the very back is busy typing away on her phone.

Belle gets her own out of her pocket, checking for her latest messages. Despite the early hour, she has one unread message from her sister - a picture of Fanny’s current art project, one that has Belle frowning at her screen as she tilts her head to the side, trying and failing to guess what the meaning of the painting is meant to be. Maybe she will ask Fanny later, or maybe she will let her sister to her deranged phallic art pieces and sculptures.

Instead, Belle opens her laptop, hoping for at least twenty minutes to work on the assignment she was given yesterday. Barely half a way in Oxford, and she is already drowning in a sea of essays, reading assignments and lab notes. Well, any other student would be drowning. Belle is doing just fine.

“Seat’s taken?”

She looks up from her laptop, blinking in surprise at the boy next to her. She belatedly notices the room has filled up by now, whispers of two turned into a cacophony of voices. And this boy, still staring at her, now with his eyebrows raised.

“Hm, sorry, no - no it’s free.”

“Cool.”

He plops into the seat next to her, his long legs stretching in front of him under the table, as he drops a laptop right next to hers. The thing seems almost broken beyond repair, with faded stickers all over the back, one broken corner, and some tape keeping the screen from escaping from the keyboard. Belle forces herself not to comment, thankfully distracted from the acidic words on the top of her tongue when students start passing around piles of printed-out syllabi for the course.

Belle grabs one, even though she’s had it downloaded onto her iPad since last night. IPad she now fetches from her bag, along with a paper notepad and her pencil case. She neatly lines up her three favourite highlighters - blush pink, lavender and soft green, before she takes a sip of water.

And notices her seat neighbour staring at her.

“Problem?” she asks him, raising an eyebrow at her.

He shakes his head for a moment, tongue against the inside of his cheek, before he thinks better of it. “Have you watched any of those videos about those Sorority girls?”

She frowns. “I fail to see your point.”

“Bet you do.”

Then he turns his focus back on the (still off) lecture screen. The way he does it, so casual - too casual, even - immediately gets on her nerves. So what if she likes her notes to be neat and organised? So what if she will spend another hour after the lecture, going back through what she’s written, just to ensure everything is written well, colour-coded, highlighted, sticky-noted? She huffs in frustration as she turns back toward the front of the room too, but not before noticing his smirk from the corner of her eye. The jerk.

Professor McGregor chooses that perfect moment to make his way to the lectern, and all other thoughts leave Belle’s mind as she focuses on the man’s lecture. For the next hour, she dutifully takes notes, nodding to herself every time she remembers one of the facts from her past readings.

The professor might not be the liveliest, with the monotonous drawl to his voice, but his insights into the field still are satisfying to Belle. She does make a mental note to check his research papers later, out of curiosity more than anything else.

When Professor McGregor finishes his speech for the day, her ever so delightful neighbour jumps right out of his seat, broken laptop under his arm. He gives her a salute, as lazy as his grin is mocking.

“See you on Thursday, Bama Rush.”

“Fucker,” she grumbles.

He’s too far up the stairs to hear her.

…

Professor McGregor, as it turns out, also happens to be her tutor. Which is how, the next week, Belle finds herself in the professor’s quarters, overlooking the gardens of St John’s College. Despite being of a decent size, the room feels stuffy, with its large mahogany bookcases on every wall, its displayed human skeleton in a corner, and its wide array of nicknacks on every possible table, desk, and shelf. Very much absent from the room, though, is Professor McGregor himself.

“Do not touch that,” Hetty hisses.

Belle looks up, just in time to see Sneed’s hand retract from a large jar with what seems to be an embryo with two heads floating inside. Bell wrinkles her nose.

“What a waste of time,” Sneed complains, moving on to his observation of a polished skull on one of the bookcases. “At the price of tuition…”

“Cry me a river, Sneed,” Hetty replies. “We all know daddy dearest paid extra for you to be here.”

Belle stifles a laugh as Sneed glares at Hetty, who replies with her most condescending smile. Even though they’ve barely interacted so far, Belle enjoys Hetty’s company - she’s smart and sharp and unafraid to speak her mind, when the occasion calls for it. They could make great friends, given time, and Belle hopes this tutoring group will give their friendship the space it needs to blossom.

Hetty winks at her, and Belle smiles.

She is about to say something, when the door to the study opens, and all three heads snap to that direction.

But the good professor still is yet to make his entrance. Instead, the boy from last week’s lecture stands in the doorframe, blinking at the darkness of the room.

“Old git still not here, huh?” he says as he enters, door closing behind him. He didn’t bother with his broken laptop this time.

Actually, he didn’t bother with anything at all, strolling through the room with his hands in his pockets until he drops himself unceremoniously next to Belle on the small settee. She glares at him. He ignores her.

“They let anyone in these days,” Sneed mumbles, before he turns back to the bookcase.

“Indeed. Remind me, how many A* did you get?” the other boy retorts. “Three? Four? Oh no, wait. That was me.”

If looks could kill, Sneed would have murdered him on the spot with the glare he throws over his shoulder. Hatty rolls her eyes.

“Yes, Dawkins. We all know how smart you are,” she says, but her tone is more exasperate than biting. Like an old argument, repeated too many times.

Has Belle already missed on that much drama, even after only a week, by spending time between her bedroom and the library? Has life gone past her so fast, that enemies were made already?

Dawkins bumps his shoulder with Belle’s conspiratorially. “You heard that, right? She calls me smart!”

He offers her a shit-eating grin, the kind that makes Belle’s stomach do a little jump. Despite her best try at stoicism, she smiles too. The grin grows bigger.

There is a twinkle in his eyes, when they drop to her lips, a flash of something Belle doesn’t quite know how to name. It’s there and then it’s gone, his eyes meeting hers again - and here’s that mischief again, the boyish stupidity that fits him like a glove.

His mouth opens, slightly, like he's about to say something, and…

The door slams open.

They all startle.

Professor McGregor enters, his steps unsteady, his hand wrapped around the neck of a wine bottle. He stops, blinking at them in confusion, before he mumbles something that both his beard and the alcohol make inaudible.

Hetty is the first one to jump to her feet, to spring to action. “Should we come back tomorrow, Professor?”

He waves her off, before he drops himself in the closest chair and takes another long sip of his wine. Sneed can barely hide his grimace of disapproval, a reminder to Belle to smooth out her own features.

The professor gives them brief and confusing instructions on readings and reports to be completed for the next session, and research to be done in pairs. He vaguely points to Hetty and Sneed first, then to Belle and Dawkins, with some misogynistic comment about making it equal, giving a chance for the ladies to learn something. Then he waves them off, and they all scramble to escape as fast as they can.

Belle runs down the stairs, only allowing herself to breathe once she is on the lawn of the front quadrangle, head down and hands on her hips. She inhales deeply, to calm her heart and will the annoyance away.

“Here.”

She turns around, facing Dawkins. His arm is stretched toward her, paper in hand. She takes it carefully, then frowns down at the scribbles that make up a name - Jack, she guesses, even though it reads as Jeck - and a phone number.

“Got that doctor’s handwriting locked in,” she comments.

“Thanks, it’s the dyspraxia.”

She blinks, and swallows back a curse to herself. Of course she had to make a fool of herself, and insult him in the process. He may be infuriating, but that doesn’t mean she has a right to be that rude.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” “It’s fine,” he waves it away. “Just text me when you’re free for a trip to the library.”

…

It’s funny, how quickly new experiences become habits. How the unknown turns into the familiar in the blink of an eye. How Jack makes his way into her life, one infuriating jab at a time.

Every Monday, ten o’clock on the dot, they meet in the same study room of St John’s College’s library, to study and work together on Professor McGregor’s assignments. The study room allows them privacy, so Jack can use the text-to-speech tools on his computer, or so Belle can read out loud some passages for the both of them. She proofreads his essays when his dyslexia gets the best of him, and he always brings her favourite snacks to avoid her sugar levels crashing.

Despite what she thought, it works seamlessly.

They fight, of course. On new medical research, on which technology to use, on grammar and methodology and whether Star Wars or Star Trek is the best. They argue, and yell, and get stern reminders to be quiet from the librarian. They help each other up, fact-check everything twice, and motivate each other when the burden of first year medicine becomes too much, the pressure, the workload, the late night study sessions.

One Monday at a time, he becomes part of her life, of her universe.

“Why don’t we ever study at yours’?” she asks him one particularly chilly November morning, when the library is so cold their fingers turned blue, until Belle gave up and dragged him all the way back to her dorm bedroom.

He lies down on the floor, fluffy blanket on top of him as he hugs one of her Squishmallows to his chest. “You don’t want to come to my place, believe me.”

“Why is that?” She puts her laptop aside, cross-legged on her bed, peering down at him. “Live in the dungeons?”

He scoffs. “Worse. Subletting from some old fart who used to be a porter for St Cross College till they caught him stealing from students.”

“What is he doing now?”

“Working at Costa.”

“And how did you meet this lovely gentleman?”

Jack’s smile is wry. “Working at Costa.”

Belle snorts a laugh. Not for the first time, she is reminded of the socio-economical differences between her and Jack. How she was sent to boarding school to Cheltenham Ladies’, while he did his studies in some no-name high school in South London. How her parents pay for her tuition, but he got in on a full scholarship. How she spends the summers in Greece, or Spain, or back home in Australia, while he’s stuck here, working to make meets end. How she has a loving mother, and a fool of a father, and a crazy sister, while he’s all alone.

They never properly agreed not to talk about it - not in so many words, at least - but sometimes, like today, it hangs between us. Heavy. Obvious.

“Do you fancy some tea?” she asks, to change the conversation, to lead it back to more comfortable topics, like anatomy and lab reports and lectures. Not Jack’s misfortune in life. Not Jack’s empty bank account. Not the way her heart misses a beat when he looks at her like that, open and vulnerable and oh so eager.

Her heart is used to skipping beats.

Not like that, though.

Never like that.

…

“The WHO defines health as…”

“A state of complete physical, mental, and social well-being,” Belle recites as she walks up and down the corridor.

Hetty hums at the back of her throat, before she switches to another card. “Decline in deaths from infectious diseases in the second half of the nineteenth century was mainly due to…”

“Improvements in diet, housing, and public sanitation.”

She is wringing her hands now, the motion nowhere near as soothing as it ought to be. Her bottom lip is raw from biting down on it and picking at the skin, and her heartbeat is going way faster than ever recommended by her own doctors.

“What is NOT a task of a sociologist in medicine?”

Belle pauses. Stops. Stares at Hetty. Hetty stares back.

“Develop theory that assists in understanding social issues related to health,” comes from behind her.

Belle sighs, and turns around. “Just because you can memorise everything by heart…”

“Please, Belle. We both know your memory is far better than mine could ever be.”

She wants to tell him that is not true. She wants to remind him he got better exam results than her last year. She wants to pout and says that he’s better than her at sociology, period. She wants…

He hands her a chocolate bar, and all her worries go away.

“Jack Dawkins, you are a blessing.”

He laughs, even though his cheeks turn red “Can I get that in writing?”

She waves him away, more to dismiss his unwanted silliness than anything else, but still has a moment of panic when he indeed starts walking away from the exam hall. From the corridor. From her.

Mouth full of chocolate, she gestures vaguely at the door. Jack grins, and walks back the few steps separating them to boop her nose with his finger.

“Different room. Extra time. You knew that, Fox.”

She did know that, indeed, knows his SPP by heart - the 25% extra time he gets for every exam, and the text-to-speech machine to help him go through the papers. It doesn’t make it any less difficult, to know he will not be in the hall with the rest of them, that the sight of his mess of blond hair will not be able to sooth her nerves during the exam. He’ll be right next door, but she might as well be all the way back in Sydney, for she will feel his absence just as well.

“You got it,” he says, and it’s soft and quiet and full of emotions she refuses to question now. “I’ll see you when I’m done, alright?”

She nods, and swallows around the chocolate pieces in her mouth. “Good luck.”

“No need for luck when you’ve got talent,” he winks at her.

…

She passes with a 96.

He does so too. With a 99.

…

Belle doesn’t remember how it happened.

Well, that is a lie. Her memories may be fuzzy around the corners, but she remembers every second, every moment, every word and every touch and every tiny, single detail of that afternoon.

It starts, as it so often does, with the end. The end of exam week, the end of an academic year, the end of their first year of medicine. It starts, as it so often does in Oxford, on the banks of the river, where the grass meets the water, where boats move lazily and students gather, bottles of cheap wine and packs of snacks in hand.

It starts on the bank of the river, laughing as Hetty kisses girls after girls after girls, and makes fun of Sneed for having no game, and no girlfriend, and no summer internship. It starts with a bottle of rosé against Belle’s lips, warming her stomach and her cheeks and her brain.

It starts when it ends, when the sun is so low everything turns golden and beautiful, like a painting from an era long gone. It starts with Jack and his golden hair, and his shining eyes, and the smirk he keeps just for her, for when she’s happy and carefree and on the right side of tipsy.

It starts with her laugh.

“Jack Dawkings, everyone!” she exclaims as loud as her lungs will let her, “Top of the class!”

People cheer and whoop and toast, any reason good enough for yet another drink. Belle’s arm is flung around his shoulders, her body pressed into him, and he chuckles against the mess of her hair.

“How much did you drink already?”

“Enough,” she replies, smug and proud and laughing.

“Yeah, right,” he says, and takes the bottle from her.

She pouts, but she doesn’t fight back, not even when he hands the bottle to some random guy just passing by. She’s tipsy but not drunk, and she’s fine with it - especially when Jack’s side is pressed against her chest, against her breasts, when his arm is wrapped around her waist and he holds her to him, strong and solid and present.

“Top of the class,” she whispers to him, softer this time.

He looks down at her, and he’s soft too. Bright eyes, even brighter smile. “And yet, you’re my number one.”

She kisses him. Or maybe he kisses her. Not that it matters, when his lips are on hers, when his fingers are in her hand and on her neck, when he grabs her and pulls her close, close, closer until she forgets where he stops and where she begins, until it’s only them, them, them.

When he breaks the kiss, it’s to rub his nose alongside the ridge of hers. Delicate. Loving. Adoring. She kisses him again, just because she can.

Hetty yells at them to get a room.

Belle happily obliges.

#the artful dodger #dodgerfox #jack dawkins #belle fox #fanfic

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totowlff · 2 years ago

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chapter four — worth the yearning for

➝ the meeting was arranged in a cafe in the old part of oxford. she had no idea how he would react to her answer.

➝ word count: 2,5k

➝ warnings: none

Cassie was nervous, even more nervous than she’d been when she visited the fertility clinic. She and Toto had agreed to meet in a coffee shop she liked in Cambridge to discuss Toto’s offer. She drove to the heart of the city, parking in the carpark at Gloucester Green. She sighed as she checked the time on her phone when she arrived — she was 20 minutes early, and it was less than a five minute walk.

She set off anyway, deciding it was better to be a little early to reserve a table. Hopefully, the coffee shop wouldn’t be too busy, and they could find a nice, quiet place to talk. The shop was small on its first floor, but had a downstairs that had plenty of space and some nice booths, so she wasn’t worried.

She stepped inside, and found it a little busier than an average weekday, but there was a free table tucked into a rear corner of the shop. She sat down and gazed at the menu boards behind the counter, eyeing up the various cakes and pastries in the display cases, but she couldn’t really concentrate on either, as nervous as she was about accepting Toto’s offer.

It was incredibly generous, and felt like an earnest, heartfelt offer. She wanted to accept immediately after seeing his baby pictures, but a more rational side of Cassie prevailed. There were downsides to consider, such as the fact that it would make a relationship that was purely professional into a personal one.

A child would inextricably bind her and Toto together for life, whether or not they worked together for the foreseeable future, and whether or not their personal relationship stayed as good as it was now. The logistics of shared custody, especially given the insanity of Toto’s travel schedule, would be tricky to navigate. They would have to have some legal documentation regarding parental rights and responsibilities drawn up, which meant getting a lawyer involved in some capacity.

He stressed that he wasn’t looking to start a relationship, at least in the traditional sense, with her, but if he wanted to be the father to her child, they would be inextricably linked, in some way, from then on.

However…

Toto was incredibly kind, funny, intelligent, well-read, spoke five languages, and was financially secure — more than, even. He didn’t have vices that she knew of. He drank socially, but responsibly. He took incredibly good care of himself. Cassie had eaten enough meals with him to know that he ate incredibly well, but not to the point of never indulging, as she knew he had a fondness for some sort of pink Austrian biscuits called Manner Schnitten and secretly kept some stashed in his office.

She knew that he also got plenty of exercise — he was frequently spotted in the onsite gym at the factory, and even occasionally cycled to work when the weather was favorable. She knew the only times he’d been hospitalized were from injuries and not from illnesses; a broken elbow and wrist from a bicycle accident in 2013, and a knee surgery to repair a torn ligament two years ago.

Cassie thought back to their conversation in his office, how he spoke about his desire to have a family of his own but never having the time or ability to meet someone — wasn’t that all part of why Cassie wanted to start on this journey in the first place? To give her own life meaning outside of her job? To have her own little family to love and nurture, instead of continuing to wonder what could have been if her family loved her for who she was, instead of resenting her and casting her out for her refusal to conform to pointless, archaic social mores?

The other big benefit that was working in Toto’s favor was that, with him as a donor, she wouldn’t have to wait for banked sperm. The fertility clinic had warned her that because the UK wasn’t legally able to pay sperm donors beyond a paltry sum for travel costs to and from the clinic, they didn’t have as ready of a supply as other countries, like the United States, did.

And sure enough, none of the donors the clinic had on file were really what she was looking for. All along, she’d envisioned someone tall, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a strong jawline, but the clinic didn’t currently have a donor in its banks that matched that description.

Toto certainly did, though.

As the time passed noon, Cassie started to worry. She knew Toto was almost always punctual, joking once that it was because he’d lose his Austrian passport if he wasn’t. She started to run through a list of awful possibilities, which she usually did when she was stressed — maybe he got into an accident, maybe he got scared and is backing out, maybe he’d gotten lost, or fallen down an open manhole, maybe…

— Ah, I’m so sorry I’m late! I forgot this place was in the old section of the city, and that I’d need to find a carpark, and then I forgot where the car park was — he said, appearing at the table. He looked flushed and breathless, his hair was sticking up in some places as he nervously ran his hand through it.

— No, it’s okay. No trouble — Cassie said, looking up at him and smiling.

She watched as Toto took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. He glanced around as he sat down across from her.

— Have you ordered yet?

— No — Cassie said — I was waiting for you.

— Oh. Well, did you want to order for both of us? I’ve never been here. You know what I like, and I trust you — he said, with a kind smile.

Cassie was taken aback. Not in an unpleasant way, but the last time she went somewhere with a man, he didn’t trust her judgment or knowledge and ordered for both of them, without even asking.

“Another point in your favor, Wolff”, Cassie thought, easing herself out of her seat and heading to the counter.

She ordered herself a flat white with whole milk, and ordered Toto and a cup of the cafe’s house espresso with lactose-free milk, just like he typically ordered at the factory’s coffee shop. She was feeling a bit peckish, so she decided to get herself a raisin croissant. She decided to order a classic croissant for Toto. If he didn’t want it, she’d gladly take it home to eat later.

She sat back down. She was starting to get nervous, even about making small talk — it felt pointless with the proverbial elephant in the room seemingly dangling directly overhead, but their drinks were brought by the barista in short order.

— Oh, this looks delicious. I was a bit hungry, too — he said, taking a delicate bite of the croissant, smiling at her, delighted — This is wonderful. Thank you.

“Well”, Cassie thought. “It’s now or never”.

— So — she said — I guess we should discuss what I invited you here to discuss.

Toto nodded.

— Yes.

— Well, first, I just wanted to make sure that you haven’t changed your mind about your offer in the last two days. I will admit, I am a bit afraid that you made it in the heat of the moment, that it was more an impulse based on your feelings about your own history, rather than you fully realizing the implications of what you are agreeing to.

Toto’s face was inscrutable, but serious.

— I had considered that, after we talked, but I don’t believe that is the case. I have wanted a child for a long time, regardless.

— And you do know that the IVF process can be incredibly taxing, both physically and emotionally, especially for me? You will have to undergo some exams and tests as well. I know you’ll need a physical and some blood tests, and they’ll probably want to check and make sure you’re… Uh, viable, but if this is something you agree to go through, I need you to see it through, and then some.

He nodded.

— From what I’ve learned, some of the procedures can be painful, and tiring. One of the procedures is technically a surgery. Once we start in earnest, there is a two week period where I will be getting injections and blood tests nearly every day, until the pregnancy is confirmed. I can’t have you tell me you’re on board for all of this and then backing out halfway through.

— I’ve done my own reading since we talked — Toto answered — It doesn’t sound easy, especially for you, but I’m ready to support you unconditionally, in every way I can.

— Okay. Then, you also realize that your commitment to this is something that needs to be everlasting, correct? Not just until our child is old enough to leave the nest, so to speak?

— Yes, of course. My relationship with my mother, as terrible as it was at times, didn’t end the second I left home. I am in my forties and still talk to my mother.

— And you know that we will need to see a solicitor, before we even continue with the clinical aspects of this venture, to have a legal agreement drawn up for you to even have parental rights, because we will not have any sort of legal relationship otherwise? And that you will be responsible for monetary support and partial custody, even if our personal relationship sours at some point? I’m not saying I’m expecting that, but even people who start out being madly in love with each other, at least enough to get married, get divorced.

— Of course.

— So, do you want this as much as I do?

— Cassie, look — Toto said. He reached over the table, taking both of Cassie’s hands in his. He looked directly into her eyes, his expression stern — You’ve worked with me long enough that you know I don’t do anything by half-measures. I don’t take unnecessary risks, even though my career started in investing and finance. You don’t hear about many risk-averse investment bankers, but I was, and I did very well for myself. I don’t move forward with anything unless I am absolutely sure about it. You know that I also despise bullshit, and dishonesty. That’s why I like motor racing so much in the first place, you know. The stopwatch never lies. You know I will never lie to you, so when I say that I will support you and our child in any way I can, I mean that. Emotionally, physically, and materially.

Cassie studied his face for a long moment. His eyes were dark and serious, his face still stern, his jaw set. She’d seen that look before at work a few times, during difficult meetings with potential sponsors.

— I mean absolutely every word, and I can prove it, too — he said, letting go of Cassie’s hands and sitting back up. He fished around in his pocket for a moment before pulling out his phone — I am guessing you have not found a lawyer to handle the legal side of things quite yet.

— No, I haven’t. I didn’t know I’d need one until Thursday afternoon.

— Well, let me make a quick call, then, excuse me.

He found the contact he was looking for and tapped the screen, bringing the phone to his ear.

— Hi, Tom, it’s Toto — he said, after a few seconds. He was looking directly at Cassie as he talked — Listen, sorry to bother you on the weekend. It’s not an emergency, but is there someone at your firm that you trust that specializes in family law? Oh, no? Ah, another firm in Oxford? Wonderful. Claire Rodgers? Yes, if you can, that would be great. Thanks again.

Toto hung up his call, and put his phone back into his pocket.

— So, that was my lawyer. His firm doesn’t deal with family law at all, but an acquaintance of his does, and he said that she’s very good. He will send me her information, and then I will call to set up a consultation with her, so we can meet her and start talking about the details.

— Oh! Well… Okay, then — Cassie said. It was incredibly reassuring to her that he was at least serious enough about his offer to take a tangible step forward in the process — In that case… My answer is yes. I would like you to be the donor.

Toto’s face turned to a mixture of shock and relief.

— Are… Are you serious? — he asked.

Cassie nodded.

— Yes, Toto. I am. I would like you to be the father of my child. Well, our child.

Toto let out a breathy laugh as a wide smile spread over his space. A genuine smile, with the top of his nose scrunching. He grasped at Cassie’s hands on the tabletop again, holding them as he laughed, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles.

— I’m going to be a dad — he said, as if he was trying to convince himself.

Cassie smiled at him, watching as his eyes started shining a bit.

— Please don’t start crying, Toto, or I might start crying — she said.

— I’m sorry, Cassie, I’m�� I’m just so happy.

They finished up their drinks as they talked a little more. They got up to leave together, and when they stepped outside the door, Toto asked if he could walk Cassie to her car.

— You don’t have to — he said — It’s just at Gloucester Green, it’s not even five minutes from here.

— Well, that’s where I parked anyway, so that’s perfect.

— Oh, well, in that case…

They set off walking toward the parking lot, walking together mostly in silence. It was a companionable silence, though, and not an uncomfortable one. Cassie felt a lightness and warmth in her chest, and she wondered if Toto felt the same thing.

— I’m down this way — she said, pointing in the direction of one of the interior aisles — Thanks so much for meeting me. Please let me know when the solicitor gets back to you.

— Again, it’s my pleasure. And, before you go… This might sound strange, but… Can I give you a hug?

It was a strange request, but a simple one, and Cassie found herself oddly charmed by it.

— Oh… Yes, that would be lovely.

He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her. He had to bend down a little bit, but it was an earnest, warm, hug. It had been a while since anybody had hugged Cassie like that, aside from her aunt, and she found herself not wanting it to end.

She felt strangely safe there.

A few seconds later, she pulled away from him, smiling.

— Well, see you soon— Cassie said quietly.

— See you soon… Cassandra.

Turning her back, she walked to the car with a strange feeling taking over her body. It was as if she were weightless, about to float across the sky like a helium balloon aimlessly. Cassie just couldn't believe what had just happened.

Sitting down in the car seat, she took a few seconds to breathe and, more importantly, to absorb the entire conversation she had just had with Toto. She had accepted his offer. She was going to be the mother of his child. They would have a child.

— I'm going to have a baby — Cassie whispered, before letting out a squeal of delight.

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htsolutionoxford · 10 hours ago

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Cracked or malfunctioning laptop screen? HT Solution in Oxford specializes in professional laptop screen repair. We restore screens of all brands with precision and efficiency. Book your repair today!

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theultrablog · 27 days ago

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Pulp Storytime #52: STUMBLE in the Bronx!

March 17, 1935. We started with Florence and the others at the Edgar Allen Poe cottage in everyone’s favorite borough, the Bronx. They were giving Rupert’s pal J.R.R. Tolkien a tour of NYC, and this was a place of literary significance. Unfortunately, the front door burst open, with two revelers “wanting to see the Raven guy”. Florence politely but firmly sent them on their way, but noticed that the street was full of drunks. But not normal St. Patrick’s Day drunks; ones sloshed, pissed, and thick as a rush-hour subway car. It was time to investigate… But also get lunch. The two Brits (Professor Callahan and Kabir) rolled up their sleeves and began punching their way across the land once colonized by Jonas Bronck. (Two people in the group had lore at +3, so the trivia quotient was high.) It wasn’t long before they reached the relative safely of the Simon’s family deli!

The group strategized over matzoh ball soup and knishes. Penny took some time to let a crushing Devika down easy (“You’re too young, you’re not my type, and since you’re co-owner of Florence’s detective agency, you’re my boss.” “Uhhhhhh…fair…”). Winston and Simon reminisced about simpler times (tracking down and destroying a floating Nazi airbase).

Kabir, the only one on mission, rifled through the newspapers. There were some ads for green beer, but someone had clipped all the coupons on the other side. Luckily, they knew someone who was both an expert in beer and the Bronx…STEEL EAGLE! The players cleverly avoided main streets and the subway, instead heading east and grabbing a boat. (There was a fun subplot here where the very British duo taunted some Irish mariners. One crashed chasing them, and Penny was obligated as a lifeguard to save his life…after sobering up and apologizing, he just stayed by the boat the rest of the adventure.) The fivesome (Everybody and J.R.R.) sailed up the river to Steel Eagle’s haunt, the Yankee [stadium] Tavern. Callahan asked how they would know if Gyatso was in. The prof was answered by a body flying out the front window. The Tibetan spirit of the Bronx and his Polish sidekick Eddie Pulaski were in their element, brawling through waves of boozers. After clearing the floor, the bartender volunteered information: Someone was giving out tons of green beer, for free, and every bar in the city was serving it. Why not? It’s hard not to profit on free! “Well, the reason why not is…” The Oxford debater gestured around the destroyed bar. The players argued about who had the cash to pay for it, while Professor Callahan repaired the phone…and rolled a perfect result. Somehow, he had turned the nickel-taking device into an international radio, able to reach any phone. Following up on the suspicion, Florence called the Midas subsidiary, Crane Pharmaceuticals. The secretary acted extremely suspicious when asked about any breweries, especially the one uptown. Whatta lead! Further up the river, the players smelled the factories before they saw them. Tolkien and the mariner stayed on the boat as the players entered the industrial district. And while breaking in was easy, nobody in the group had any faculty for stealth. They were immediately caught by the evil chemist responsible… Their old rival Célia Nachtnebel! She summoned her security team, and hit a button, sending Florence into a vat of the green beer!

Seeing the torch singer swim out safely, the group was overly tactful and indecisive. The guards responded to this with gunfire. This was a major fight, and the mook squads were a match for the heroes (except for one defeated by Kabir’s words, which sent the security squad into unstoppable infighting). Célia dropped her bon-mots on Penny, infuriating her. “I didn’t know Devika’s coattails reached all the way to the distillery. And you haven’t gotten anywhere without riding them.” Callahan threw some elbows, clearing his way to some massive machinery and sabotaging it. Florence held her own despite a lack of fighting talent; her time as a hobo meant she could take some hits. Célia Nachtnebel fled, with Penny compelled to chase her through a dangerous maze of equipment. The Hawaiian pushed through the door to an outside catwalk… But it was a trap! Below, a janitor sprayed a crowd of rioting locals. Green beer covered the New Yorkers… And Celia tried to hurl Penny down three stories into the fray!

The gambling prodigy managed to keep her balance, and as the two grappled, Penny pleaded with the chemist; didn’t Celia remember her rescue in Montenegro? Unfortunately, whatever gratitude Celia had was boiled away perfecting alcoholic madness! And worse, Penny was being leaned off the edge… “It’s just a shame, An’Te… I wish I was killing the girl.” Elsewhere, Kabir searched for Penny. Obviously he was the leader of the group (Since he had the Order of the British Empire). It would be ridiculous to not take care of all the group members… and he arrived just in time to save Penny from Nachtnebel’s manicured choke! Meanwhile, distillery security noticed all the dials going into the red. They didn’t want to die for a crummy gig… But if Professor Callahan didn’t undo what he did, the entire building would blow up! Outside, Penny scrambled to her feet, and tried to rush away…and was sprayed by the hose man! Only her years of lifeguard training allowed her to grab the catwalk instead of being knocked to her doom! Meanwhile, security, Florence and the Prof struggled to undo his sabotage. With only seconds remaining, they released the steam-tension and drained the toxic beer into the waste tanks. Kabir appealed to Celia’s sense of self-preservation. Surely there was more to life than sabotaging New Yorkers, causing misery? She paused, thinking over his words, then gave him a piece of her mind. Straight onto his dress shirt. Penny blew smoke off her purse pistol. Celia scowled. “What a bitch.” The madwoman took half a step before plummeting to the brickyard below. ——— Back at the deli, the group had dinner and debriefed. Drunk Florence was willing to eat anything. Callahan used his phone hacking skills to call Doc Midas’s private outgoing phone.

Unfortunately, the professor wasn’t a great judge of character. He was bowled over by Midas’s lies (“I never met that woman, this wasn’t authorized, she’s fired… What do you mean dead?! Well, I guess I should donate a few barrels of my all-natural health elixir to the hungover masses…”). Oh well. Time for kugel. Penny gave Devi an overprotective hug. Elsewhere, Jimmy Pulaski comforted Steel Eagle. “I don’t know why they didn’t invite you, boss. Maybe they weren’t going to punch anybody.”

#gaming #essays #fate core #stories #beer #New York #The Bronx

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repairmyphonetodayy · 6 months ago

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MacBook Pro Battery Replacement Made Easy and Affordable

Repair My Phone Today offers expert Mac repair services in bicester and Oxford. Specializing in MacBook Pro battery replacement and comprehensive laptop repairs, their skilled technicians ensure fast, reliable solutions. Whether your device requires hardware fixes, software troubleshooting, or a new battery, Repair My Phone Today provides top-quality service near you. Conveniently located for residents in Oxford and Bicester, they cater to a variety of laptop issues with precision and care. Trust Repair My Phone Today for all your Mac and laptop repair needs, and enjoy prompt, professional service that restores your device's optimal performance.

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repairmyphonetodayoxford · 1 year ago

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MacBook Keyboard Repair at Repair My Phone Today

MacBook Keyboard Repair involves fixing issues with keys, such as sticking, unresponsiveness, or damage, to ensure a smooth and efficient typing experience.

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repairmyphonetodayuk · 5 days ago

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Get expert mobile phone screen repair services in Oxford at Repair My Phone Today. Our skilled technicians specialize in fixing cracked or damaged screens for a variety of mobile devices. Whether it's a quick fix or a more complex issue, we offer fast, reliable repairs using high-quality parts. Visit us today for affordable, same-day service and restore your phone's screen to perfect condition. Trust Repair My Phone Today for all your mobile repair needs in Oxford.

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iphonerepairoxford · 7 months ago

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londonpainteront · 1 year ago

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London Painters

London Painters, based in Ontario, are your go-to experts for all painting needs. We specialise in house painting, popcorn ceiling removal, and drywall repair, delivering professional, hassle-free services. Our trained team ensures a smooth, clean finish every time. Contact us for a free estimate today!

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htsolutionoxford · 3 days ago

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Take advantage of HT Solution Black Friday Laptop Repair Deal in Oxford! Get expert repairs for laptops of all brands, including screen replacements, hardware fixes, and software troubleshooting, at unbeatable prices. Our skilled technicians ensure fast, reliable service to restore your device to peak performance. Don’t miss out on this limited-time offer to save big on quality laptop repairs. Visit HT Solution in Oxford today and enjoy exceptional service at discounted rates!

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hi-tec-solutions · 1 year ago

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Introducing the iPhone 15: A Cutting-Edge Device Now Available

Introduction:

Welcome to Repair My Phone Today, your go-to destination for all your smartphone repair needs in Oxford, Aldates. We are excited to announce that we now offer repairs and services for the latest addition to the iPhone family, the highly anticipated iPhone 15. In this blog post, we will delve into the remarkable features and advancements of this cutting-edge device.

Design:

The iPhone 15 boasts a sleek and modern design that seamlessly blends elegance with functionality. With its slim profile, curved edges, and stunning display, this device is a true testament to Apple's commitment to innovation. The high-quality materials used in its construction ensure durability and a premium feel. Whether you choose the classic silver, space gray, or vibrant colors, the iPhone 15 is sure to turn heads.

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Under the hood, the iPhone 15 is powered by Apple's latest A15 Bionic chip, providing lightning-fast performance and efficient energy consumption. This powerful processor ensures smooth multitasking, seamless app usage, and fast loading times. Whether you're a heavy gamer, a professional multitasker, or simply looking for a device that can keep up with your busy lifestyle, the iPhone 15 is up to the task.

Camera and Photography:

For photography enthusiasts, the iPhone 15 offers an exceptional camera system that takes mobile photography to new heights. Equipped with a sophisticated triple-lens setup, including an ultra-wide, wide, and telephoto lens, capturing stunning photos and videos has never been easier. The device also features advanced computational photography capabilities, allowing you to take professional-quality shots with ease. With features like Night mode, Deep Fusion, and Smart HDR 4, the iPhone 15 ensures that every photo you capture is a masterpiece.

Battery Life and Connectivity:

The iPhone 15 is equipped with an improved battery that gives you even more power to stay connected throughout the day. Whether you're streaming videos, browsing the internet, or using power-intensive apps, you can rely on the iPhone 15 to keep up with your demands. Additionally, the device supports 5G connectivity, enabling faster download and upload speeds, smoother streaming, and enhanced browsing experiences.

Repair Services at Repair My Phone Today:

At Repair My Phone Today in Oxford, Aldates, we understand that accidents happen and that your iPhone 15 may require repair or maintenance from time to time. Our team of skilled technicians is trained to handle a wide range of issues, from cracked screens to battery replacements. With our expertise and genuine Apple parts, we ensure that your device is restored to its original functionality.

Conclusion:

The iPhone 15 is undeniably a remarkable device that pushes the boundaries of what a smartphone can do. With its sleek design, powerful performance, exceptional camera system, and reliable battery life, it is a device that caters to the needs of both tech enthusiasts and everyday users. If you're in need of iPhone 15 repair services in Oxford, Aldates, Repair My Phone Today is your trusted destination. Visit us today and experience the excellence of the iPhone 15 firsthand.

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📧 Email: [email protected]

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