#a few days ago a colleague that worked there for almost 14 years also quit bc she couldn't take it anymore

[cheekblush]

had to leave work early bc of severe cystitis pain >:(

[xtruss]

A Reporter at Large: The Great Foreigner

— By Niccolo Tucci | November 14, 1947 | November 22, 1947 Issue

Albert Einstein outside his home in Princeton, New Jersey, 1951. Photograph by Ernst Haas/Getty

There is such a thing as being a foreigner, but not in the sense implied by passports. Foreigners exist, to be sure, but they may be found only in places where it would be impossible to discover a single policeman or a single immigration official—in the field of the intellect. A man who achieves anything great in any province of the mind is, inevitably, a foreigner, and cannot admit others to his province. If you are one of his own people, you will, of course, find him, because you yourself are there, but if you are not, your knowledge of him will be mostly confined to the petty intelligence of the gossip columns. Now, we all know from experience what it means, in this sense, to be refused entry, even as a temporary visitor, into this or that foreigner’s domain. We meet a great man and cannot talk to him, because, alas, we happen not to be able to get interested in the thing in which he excels. Silly though it seems, this is humiliating, for it makes us aware of our limitations. Yet that feeling is soon forgotten. There are people today, however, whose foreignness can’t be forgotten, and these are the physicists, who have done things to us that keep us wondering, to say the least. They have lessened—in fact, almost destroyed—our hopes of a quiet and happy future. It is true that they have also increased our hopes of surviving discomfort and disease, but, oh, how far away that seems, and how near seems the possibility of extermination! That is why, when my mother-in-law, who flew over from Europe a couple of weeks ago, said that she wanted me to accompany her on a visit to the home of her friend Albert Einstein, in Princeton, I was very reluctant to go.

I had seen Einstein several times in the past eight or nine years, and on the last occasion—in 1942, I believe—I had been bold enough to invite him to come out of his inaccessible territory and into that of all the unscientific people, like myself. Would he, I asked, explain, in words rather than in mathematical symbols, what he and his colleagues actually meant by the fourth dimension? And he did, so simply and so clearly that I left his house with an uncontrollable feeling of pride. Here, I, the living negation of anything even slightly numerical, had been able to understand what Einstein had said—had really said, for he had said it not only in his conversation with me but years before in his theories. Obviously, he had explained to me merely what a child would be able to grasp, but it impressed me as much more because my schoolteachers and my father, all of them less great than Einstein, had never forgone a chance to make me feel a perfect fool (and to tell me, lest I should have missed drawing the inference), even when they spoke to me about fractions or equations of the first degree. I consequently realized that Einstein belonged to the extremely rare type of foreigner who can come out of his seclusion and meet aliens on alien ground. Yet, much as I cherished the recollection of that pleasant experience, I did not think it altogether advisable to try my luck again. “This time,” I said to my mother-in-law, who is called Bice in the family, “he may easily make me feel like a fool. Besides, in 1942 Einstein’s achievements did not keep me awake at night, as they do now. If I saw him now, I would not be moved by the slightest scientific curiosity about his work. I would much rather ask him what he thinks of the responsibility of modern scientists, and so forth. It might be quite unfair to him and unpleasant for me.”

Well, mothers-in-law must have secret ways of persuasion, because a few days later I gave in, not only on seeing Einstein but also on taking along Bimba, my six-year-old daughter. “All right,” I said resignedly, “but you, Bimba, will be sorry for this. You don’t know who Einstein is. He has all the numbers; they belong to him. He will ask you how old you are.” And I must say here that Bimba, even more than myself, is the mathematical scandal of our family. She tries to count her six years on her fingers, but she forgets how high she has counted and must try again. Upon a guarantee from me that Einstein would not interview her on that delicate subject, we made peace and departed. On our way out of the apartment, we met my eight-year-old son, Vieri, who was playing ball on the sidewalk.

“Vieri,” I said, “want to come and see Einstein?”

“Einstein the great mathematician?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Naw,” he said. “I have enough arithmetic in school.”

On the train that morning, my mother-in-law and I talked a great deal about Maja, Einstein’s younger sister, one of two links Bice has with higher mathematics. But I must say that she is a weak link, because Maja is the opposite of all abstraction. She looks exactly like her brother (one would almost say that she, too, needs a haircut), but she is a Tuscan peasant, like the people who work in the fields near her small estate of Colonnata, just outside Florence. Even her frame of mind is, in spite of her cosmopolitan culture, Tuscan. Whatever in conversation does not make sense to her in plain, human terms she will quickly dismiss with a witty remark. But before becoming a Tuscan peasant, Maja was a brilliant young German student of philosophy in Paris. She interrupted her studies to take a job as governess in charge of young Bice, whose mother had just died, leaving her the only female of the family, surrounded by a number of older brothers and her father. All this happened forty years ago. Soon after her arrival in the family, Maja became Bice’s second mother and dearest friend. Even after Maja resumed her studies and got married, they remained very close, and did not lose touch with each other until shortly before the outbreak of the recent war, when Maja left Italy to join her brother in Princeton. And today Bice, accompanied by a somewhat impatient son-in-law and by a pestiferous young angel of a granddaughter, was rushing to Princeton for the great reunion.

On the way, we also talked pleasantly about America (like all Europeans who come here for the first time, Bice was eager to know about everything in the first week), we discussed the fate of the world and the wisdom of those who run it, we quarrelled over theology (Bice is fond of theologies, with a marked preference for her own, the Roman Catholic), and finally I noticed that she wasn’t listening to me any more. She frowned, she shook her head, then she smiled and nodded, staring in front of her, but not at me and not at Bimba. I knew that she was making an inventory of her sentimental luggage. All the news of the troubled years, from the death of her eldest son in the war to the latest item of family gossip, from the bombings of towns to the latest method of making a pound of sugar last a year, were being called to mind, so that everything would surely be ready for Maja. I made a sign to Bimba not to interrupt her grandmother, and Bimba sat there and stared, somewhat frightened by this woman who was looking so intently at her own life.

When we arrived in Princeton, it was quite misty, and there was a threat of rain in the Indian summer air. At the station, we took a cab and soon learned that the driver, a young student, was the son of a friend of ours in Florence. He was trying to make enough money driving a cab to finance a trip to South America. Our conversation with him was so interesting that only the sight of open country around us made us realize that we had driven all the way out of town. We drove back and stopped in front of a house on Mercer Street. I had forgotten the exact address, but this house looked like the right one. In her eagerness, Bice ran ahead of me toward the door, but the reunion could not take place, because, as we discovered when we rang the bell, it was the wrong house. Luckily for us, the cab was still there, so we drove along a little, and finally, after ringing the bells of two other families that refused, not without sorrow, to be the Einsteins, we decided upon one more house, which happened to be the right one. Miss Dukas, Einstein’s secretary, greeted us at the door; then came Margot, his delicate and silent stepdaughter, who looks so much like a Flemish painting; and Chico, the dog, who tried to snatch Bimba’s red ribbons from her pigtails.

“Bimba,” I said, “don’t get the dog excited. Remember how he ate your doll five years ago. Now, if you are not very quiet today, I am going to ask you in front of Einstein how much makes three and two—understand?”

She nodded, and whispered, “Four?”

We were asked to wait for a moment in the small anteroom that leads to the dining room. Maja was upstairs; she was being helped out of bed and into the chair in which she spends most of her day. She is recovering from a long illness, which has delayed her return to Italy, so it was only natural that this reunion should be delayed until she was ready and comfortable. And yet this addition of even a few minutes to years of separation created an effect of absurdity. One always imagines that the crossing of the last span of a trip bridging years will be something impulsive: when all the real impediments, such as continents, oceans, and passports, have been overcome, friends should run into each other’s arms as fast as they can. Still, it is never quite that way. We become so used to living at a distance that we slowly begin to live with it, too; we lean on it, we share it, in equal parts, with our faraway friends, and when it’s gone and we are again there, corporeally present, we feel lost, as if a faithful servant had abandoned us.

To fill in those extra minutes, we began to look at the furniture in the anteroom and dining room, and I noticed again what I had noticed five years ago in those same rooms: everything suggested the house of a faculty member of a German university. I could not trace this impression to any particular object. The large dining-room table in the center, with the white tablecloth on it, was not particularly German, nor was the furniture in the anteroom, but there was the same quiet atmosphere of culture that had impressed me so deeply in the houses of university professors, in Freiburg, Leipzig, and Berlin, to which my parents had taken me when I was a boy and spent my summers travelling over Europe. It is something that remains suspended in the air almost as stubbornly as the smell of tobacco; one might say that the furniture had been seasoned with serious conversation. Curiously, it is an atmosphere that can never be found in the apartment of a diplomat, even if he is the son of a professor and has inherited his father’s furniture.

We were finally called upstairs by Margot, who then disappeared into her study. Bice’s impatience was such that, not finding Maja in the first room we entered, she said disappointedly, “Not here,” and ran toward a closed door to open it, like a child playing hide-and-go-seek. This search lasted only a matter of seconds, because the house isn’t large enough for a long search. But by the time we reached Maja, Bice seemed almost to have lost hope that she would ever get there. Maja was standing near her chair waiting, quiet, dignified, almost ironical, under a cloud of white hair. She never shows any emotion, never speaks louder than a whisper, and never more than a few appropriate words—just like the Tuscan peasants, with the difference that when they whisper, they might as well be addressing a crowd across a five-acre field.

The “How well you look!” and “How unchanged you are!” were soon over, and then the Great Foreigner arrived, pipe in hand and smiling gently. He complimented Bice on looking just the same as ever, and received the same compliment with grace, then inquired about Michele, Bice’s eldest brother and her second link with higher mathematics. Uncle Michele is a gentle little man who sits in Bern, Switzerland, and looks out into the world, leaning on a white beard that descends from almost under his blue eyes to the end of his necktie. Every night for twenty years, in the company of a friend, he has looked into “The Divine Comedy,” taking time off to look into his soul with a fierce, puritanical spirit tempered by a great deal of natural goodness; he has also looked into the field of economics, trying to find mathematical formulae to solve the crisis of the world; and for a long time, in the company of Einstein, he looked into the mysteries of higher mathematics. We had just finished hearing all about Uncle Michele’s health and his many grandchildren when Bice seemed suddenly to recall an extremely urgent matter—as if, indeed, it were the very reason she had flown all the way over here from Europe. “Herr Professor,” she asked, in German (the whole conversation, in fact, was in German), “this I really meant to ask you for a long time—why hasn’t Michele made some important discovery in mathematics?”

“Aber, Frau Bice,” said Einstein, laughing, “this is a very good sign. Michele is a humanist, a universal spirit, too interested in too many things to become a monomaniac. Only a monomaniac gets what we commonly refer to as results.” And he giggled happily to himself.

Then we spoke about dreams. Bice told us two symbolic dreams she had had years ago; I told the dream that the grandfather of a friend of mine had had the day before he died; Einstein told an absurd dream of his. He seemed the only one to find the conversation interesting, which it was not. Bice was now sleepy (the emotion had been too great for her); Maja sat silent and ate her lunch, which a nurse had brought in on a tray; and I nodded to Einstein’s words, searching impatiently for a way out of dreams to the subject of the responsibility of modern scientists. But the atmosphere somehow weighed on me. The mist was getting thicker, and it had begun to rain, with that quick, fingertip drumming on the leaves, on the roof, on some pail outside, that makes you go to sleep. It was dark in the room now. The only points of light were the white of the bed, the white of the nurse’s uniform, and the white of Maja’s hair and of Einstein’s head against the window—and his laughing eyes, his voice, and the joy that sprang from him. “Damn the responsibility of modern scientists on a damp day like this,” I thought. It made me both envious and angry to see this man in front of me who laughed so heartily at the most trivial things, who listened with such concentration to our nonsense, who was so full of life while I could see no reason even for breathing in that damp, misty air. “Why is he so young,” I asked myself, “and what makes him laugh so? Is he making fun of us, or what is this?” Then I began to understand. He had just come from the other room; he was stretching his mind; he was “abroad.” All these words were only formally addressed to us; actually they were references to some demonstration he must have received, in the heart of his own secret country, that something was exactly as he had suspected it would be. Yes, it could be nothing but this: he had done fruitful work that morning. I saw it now because I recognized myself in him—not as a scientist, alas, but as a child of seven, at which age it was my hobby to make locomotives with tin cans and old shaving brushes (the smokestack with the smoke). The situation was the same. When the joy of toymaking became too great, I had to interrupt my work and run to the living room, where the grownups were boring themselves to death. And I laughed at their words without bothering to inquire what they meant; I found them interesting, new, exciting; I was praised for being such good company while in actuality I was still playing with my locomotive—I was deciding in my mind what colors I would paint it, what I would use for wheels and lanterns—and it was good to know that no one shared my secret. “You and your toys,” I thought, looking at Einstein with the envy that an ailing old man has for a young athlete.

Lunch was announced, and we went downstairs, leaving Maja alone. The smell of food consoled me for my humiliation. I began to eat. Einstein asked Bice for her impression of America, and she expressed her disappointment at the bad manners of children in this country. This led to a family argument, in which Einstein was asked to act as arbiter. Bice claimed that American children (she meant mine, of course) have no respect for the authority of their parents, or for that of such people as park attendants. To prove her point, she said that, on the day before, Vieri and his friend Herbert had laughed in the face of a park attendant when he told them not to play ball. Yes, they had obeyed him in the end, but not without making strange noises in his honor. (She didn’t know the name for this Bronx ceremony.) I conceded that this was frightful, but I reminded her that a park attendant in Europe was a sort of Commander-in-Chief of Leaves and Flowers and First Admiral of Public Fountains and of the paper boats in them. Even a smile addressed to him without proper authorization was considered daring. “When I was a boy in Italy, we never questioned anyone’s authority,” I said, “and thus we passed, with the most perfect manners, from the hands of our nurses to those of our tyrants.”

As moderator, Einstein asked me how I had managed to lose authority over my children.

“I didn’t have to work much,” I replied. “It was rather simple. I just told them, ‘Look at the kind of world in which we live. See what we, the grownups, are able to invent, from passports to radioactive clouds.’ “

Bice contended that nothing is gained by embittering the lives of children with remarks of that nature, but Einstein was in full agreement with me when I answered that less than nothing is gained—in other words, that much is lost—by lulling them into the illusion that all is as it should be in the world. “You, as a scientist,” I said to Einstein, “know that the world is round and not divided naturally by cow fences into holy, restricted fatherlands. When you were young, there was still a semblance of good in governments and institutions, but today—see where we are today.”

He became very serious, as if he were seeing where we are today, but suddenly a smile lit up in his eyes, and it quickly spread all over his face and beyond it. He laughed happily, then said, “Let me tell you what happened to me years ago, before the other war, when there were no passports. The only two countries that required them were Russia and Rumania. Now, I was in Hungary and had to go to Rumania. I didn’t know where and how to apply for a passport, but I was told that it wasn’t necessary. There was a man who had a passport of his own, and he was kind enough to let anybody use it to cross the border. I accepted the offer, but when they asked me at the frontier what my name was, I said, ‘Wait a moment,’ took out the passport from my pocket, and had a great deal of trouble trying to find out who I was. Now, to go back to your point, I agree with you that those who exercise any kind of authority, be it the authority of a father or that of a government, have a definite obligation to show that they deserve respect, but the trouble with grownups in our day is that they have lost the habit of disobedience, and they should quickly learn it again, especially when it comes to the infringement of their individual rights.” He laughed again, this time like a bad boy, then, shaking his head, said, “These grownups. Isn’t it terrible how readily they will obey?”

“Take the loyalty test for federal employees, against which so few have protested,” I said.

“That is a case in point,” he answered. “People are asked to be loyal to their jobs. But who wouldn’t be loyal to his job? Too many people, indeed. Also in Italy and in Germany they used to test people’s loyalty to their jobs, and they found a far greater loyalty to jobs than to democracy. But now tell me another thing. What do you give to your children in the way of good news about the world?”

“Plenty,” I said. “For example, I tell them about Socrates, who was killed by the greatest democracy on earth for standing at the corner drugstore and asking questions that made the politicians feel uncomfortable.”

“That’s not a cheerful story, either,” he said, “but if they were able to absorb some of the spirit of the Greeks, that would serve them a great deal later on in life. The more I read the Greeks, the more I realize that nothing like them has ever appeared in the world since.”

“You read the Greeks?” I said.

“But of course,” he replied, slightly surprised at my amazement. And so I heard, partly from him and partly from Miss Dukas, that he reads the Greeks to Maja every night for an hour or so, even if he has had a very tiring day. Empedocles, Sophocles, Aeschylus, and Thucydides receive the tribute of the most advanced and abstract modern science every night, in the calm voice of this affectionate brother who keeps his sister company.

“You know,” I said, “that is great news. Young Americans, who have an idea of the pure scientist worthy of the comics, should be told that Einstein reads the Greeks. All those who relish the idiotic and dangerous myth of the scientist as a kind of Superman, free from all bonds of responsibility, should know this and draw their conclusions from it. Many people in our day go back to the Greeks out of sheer despair. So you too, Herr Professor, have gone back to the Greeks.”

He seemed a little hurt. “But I have never gone away from them,” he said. “How can an educated person stay away from the Greeks? I have always been far more interested in them than in science.”

Lunch was over, and Einstein announced that he was going to go upstairs for his nap. Bice was assigned, for hers, a couch under a red-nosed portrait of Schopenhauer in the library-and-music room. The sun was shining again, so Bimba was told that she could go out to the garden to play, and I went for a walk around the town.

When, after an hour or so, I came back to the house, I found Bimba still in the garden. I was quite disappointed to hear that I had missed an extraordinary event. Just after I had left and just as Einstein started to go upstairs, Bimba had asked him to play the violin for her. He had not touched his instrument for almost a year, but he took it out and played Bimba a few bars from a Mozart minuet.

I saw Einstein on the porch, waving to me. I joined him there and sat down next to him while he stretched his legs on a deck chair and leaned back, one hand behind his head, the other holding his pipe in mid-air. I had a volume of the German translation of Plato by Preisendanz in my briefcase and asked his permission to read aloud a passage from “Gorgias.” He listened patiently and was very amused by Socrates’ wit. When I was through, he said, “Beautiful. But your friend Plato”—and he extended his pipe in such a way that it became Plato—”is too much of an aristocrat for my taste.”

“But you would agree,” I said, “that all the qualities that make for a democratic attitude are noble qualities?”

“I would never deny that,” he said. “Only a noble soul can attain true independence of judgment and exercise respect for other people’s rights, while any so-called nobleman prefers to conceal his vulgarity behind such cheap shields as an illustrious name and a coat of arms. But, you see, in Plato’s time and even later, in Jefferson’s time, it was still possible to reconcile democracy with a moral and intellectual aristocracy, while today democracy is based on a different principle—namely, that the other fellow is no better than I am. You will admit that this attitude doesn’t altogether facilitate emulation.”

There was a silence, and he interrupted it, almost talking to himself. “I lived for a while in Italy,” he said, “and I think that the Italians are among the most humane people in the world. When I want to find an example of a naturally noble creature, I must think of the Italian peasants, the artisans, the very simple people, while the higher you go in Italian society . . .” and as he lifted his pipe a little, it became a contemptible specimen of a class of Italians he does not admire.

A small airplane was appearing and disappearing between treetops, and gargling noisily right into our conversation.

“In the past,” said Einstein, “when man travelled by horse, he was never alone, never away from the measure of man, because”—he laughed—”well, the horse, you might say, is a human being; it belongs to man. And you could never take a horse apart, see how it works, then put it together again, while you can do this with automobiles, trains, airplanes, bicycles. Modern man is besieged by mechanics. And even more ominous than this invasion of our lives is the rise of a class of people born of the machine, so to speak—people to whom certain powers must be delegated without the moral screening of a democratic process. I mean the technicians. You can’t elect them, you can’t control them from below; their work is not of the type that may be improved by public criticism.”

“Yes,” I said, “and they are born Fascists. What can you do against them?”

“Only one thing,” he said. “Try to prevent them from becoming a closed society, as they have become in Russia.”

“This is why,” I said, “now that we have lost the company of the horse, we may get something out of the company of men such as the Greeks were.”

“It may be an antidote to conformism,” he said.

“Don’t you think that American youth is becoming more and more conformist?” I asked.

“Modern conformism,” he said, “is alarming everywhere, and naturally here it is growing worse every day, but, you see, American conformism has always existed to some extent, because American society, being based on the community itself and not on the authority of a strong central state, needs the coöperation of every individual to function well. Therefore, the individual has always considered it his duty to act as a kind of spiritual policeman for himself and his neighbor. The lack of tolerance is also connected with this, but much more with the fact that American communities were religious in their origin, and religion is by its very nature intolerant. This will also help you understand another seemingly strange contradiction. For example, you will find a far greater amount of tolerance in England than over here, where to be ‘different’ is almost a disgrace, for everyone, starting with schoolboys and up to the inhabitants of small towns. But you will find far more democracy over here than in England. That, also, is a fact.”

“Tell me, Herr Professor,” I said. “This has nothing to do with what we were discussing, but what are the chances that a chain reaction may destroy the planet?”

He looked at me with sincere sympathy, took his pipe slowly out of his mouth, stretched out his arm in my direction, and explained why his pipe (now the planet) was not likely to be blown to bits by a chain reaction. And I was so pleased by his answer that I didn’t bother to understand the reasons.

“Tell me,” I now asked, “why is it that most scientists are so cynical with regard to the issues of war and peace today? I know many physicists who worked on nuclear reactions, and I am struck by their complete indifference to what goes on outside their field. Some of them are as conspicuous for their silence as they are for their scientific achievements.”

“So much more credit for those who talk,” said he. “But, believe me, my friend, it’s not only the scientists who are cynical. Everyone is. Some people sit in heated offices and talk for years and write reports and draw their livelihood from the fact that there exist displaced persons who cannot afford to wait. Wouldn’t you call this cynicism? I know that you were going to ask me about the responsibility of the scientists. Well, it is exactly the same as that of any other man. If you think that they are more responsible because in the course of their research they found things that are dangerous, such as the atomic bomb, then also Newton is responsible, because he discovered the law of gravitation. Or the philologists who contributed to the development of languages should be considered responsible for Hitler’s speeches. And for his actions. If scientists were to refrain from investigation for fear of what bad people might do with the results, then all of us might as well refrain from living altogether.”

“In other words,” I said, “it would amount to a form of censorship on all our actions and thoughts.”

“A rather useless censorship,” he said, “for you can trust man to find other channels of evil.” Then he laughed heartily and added, “You may underestimate man’s ability to do evil.”

It was time to go. I ran upstairs to say goodbye to Maja and call Bice. “We heard you laugh a good deal,” said Maja. “You must have had a good time downstairs.”

“Indeed,” I said. “And it was a great honor to have Professor Einstein spend such a long time chatting with me.”

“Macchè onore d’Egitto,” said Maja, which means, in colloquial Italian “Honor, hell.”

Einstein went slowly back into his study. I caught a glimpse of his face; he was miles away from everybody, back in his foreign land.

As Bice, Bimba, and I were walking to the station, Bimba began to cry because she had lost the hat of a paper doll Miss Dukas had given her. She wanted to run back to look for it, but there was no time for that. To console her, Bice said, “Think, Bimba, when you grow up, you will be able to say that Einstein played the violin for you.”

“Oh, come,” said Bimba, “it isn’t true.”

“Why?” I asked. “Didn’t he play for you?”

“Call that play?” she said, making a sour face. “He had to use a stick to play it.” ♦

— Published in the Print Edition of the November 22, 1947, Issue.

[babymetaldoll]

Teasing (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Requested: Yes :)

"This might be random but, I just imagine season 14 Spencer being confident and slapping the reader's ass in front of his co-workers and they tease him and her about it?"

Summary: Teasing Spencer at work is both a good and a bad idea. And (Y/N) knows exactly what she is doing.

Warnings: Cursing, sex references. Let me know if I forgot something :)

Word count: 1,3K

A/N: Anon, I’m sorry it took forever, I hope you like it 💜

Masterlist

 It was probably (Y/N) 's responsibility. It looked like it to her anyway. She had been teasing Spencer that whole day. In her defense, she was bored. It was a slow paperwork day, and after a while, there weren't many ways to kill time in the bullpen.

On the other hand, she knew what she was getting into. And she wanted to.

It all started innocently. (Y/N) walked to her husband's desk and ran her fingers through his hair. She knew he loved that, and it made him close his eyes and hum softly.

- "Hello, gorgeous."

- "How is your day going, honey?"- she asked and stood beside him, playing with his curls.

- "Good, halfway through all the files already. You?"- (Y/N) sighed and pulled the hair at the back of his neck softly.

- "Just starting."- she whispered and bit her lips, smiling.

Spencer stared at her and raised an eyebrow. She only smiled innocently and walked back to her desk.

Working with your husband could be a problem sometimes. It could also be very entertaining. I guess it all depends on how much work you've got to do that day.

Spencer and (Y/N) had met in the BAU ten years ago. It felt like ages. They were both so young back then, so shy and so innocent. Not just in the love department but also as profilers.

A lot had changed from those days when Spencer would blush and fluster each time (Y/N) talked to him. He wasn't the same. Not even close. Not after dating her for two years. After learning everything about her. The way she tasted. The way she moved. The way she liked to be touched.

He wasn't the same, not after being married to her for three years. After sharing every day, the good ones and the bad ones.

He wasn't the same, not after being in jail, missing her body, her laughter, her company.

Now, Spencer wouldn't hold himself back. He felt more confident. Spencer was now more in power. He could be who he always wanted to be when he was with her, not just at home, not only in the bedroom, but everywhere.

Sometimes he would forget where he was, though. (Y/N) had that kind of effect on him, even after all those years. She could blind him when she walked into a room, and she was the only thing he would notice. If you think about it, it's a good thing, especially if it means you are still crazy in love with the woman of your dreams, even when you met her ten years ago.

(Y/N) looked at her husband from her desk and chewed her lips. How could she get his attention to keep on teasing him? Easy peasy.

- "Luke, can you give me a hand?"- she walked to her colleague and leaned over on his desk, making sure her ass was on Spencer's view.

- "Sure thing, what can I help you with?"

(Y/N) had nothing to ask Alvez, but that didn't stop her from rambling on a bunch of data with him about one of the cases they had worked on a few weeks ago.

She moved the weight of her body from one leg to the other, moving slowly. She knew she had Spencer's attention. He loved her ass.

Loved it. Worship it. He couldn't get enough of it. You name it. Reid liked to put her on his lap and slap her ass until it would be red. He also liked to mark it and leave bruises all over it. And most of all, he loved to stare at it, just the way he was doing that minute, licking his lips, thinking about all the things he was going to do to her as soon as they got home that day.

She knew what she was doing. She surely did. Spencer kept thinking about it now, unable to continue with the paperwork. He looked at her, sauntering through the bullpen. She stopped and talked with JJ for a moment, smiling, laughing. Playing with her hair. He couldn't stop thinking about her now, about what he wanted to do to his wife.

Then, (Y/N) walked to the kitchenette to get a coffee, and Spencer moved in his chair to make sure he could still get a glimpse of her. She turned around and looked at him as she walked over, holding two cups of coffee.

- "Here you have, doctor Reid"- (Y/N) whispered, and a chill ran down Spencer's back. Those two words coming from her lips were too much. He loved it when she called him by his honorifics. She smiled and turned around to walk to her desk when Spencer's hand moved and slapped her ass, staring at it as he bit his lips.

The way he looked at her, anyone could tell what he was thinking about. Including the rest of the team, of course.

- "Oh no!!"- Rossi frowned and stared at the couple- "You know, I liked you a lot better when you were a young, innocent kid who couldn't even talk to (Y/N) without stuttering."

Spencer wide opened his eyes and stayed speechless, holding his breath for a few seconds. (Y/N) laughed and looked at Rossi innocently.

- "What? What did he do?"- Prentiss walked over, holding a cup of coffee too.

- "He is touching his wife in public again!"- Rossi shook his head, clearly joking- "You have to learn how to control yourself, kid."

- "Stop making him sound like a perv"- (Y/N) chuckled and stood next to her husband -"He just can't help it. He held himself back for years."

(Y/N) loved teasing her husband, and she was unquestionably enjoying that moment.

- "Oh! I saw him last week! it was disturbing"- Prentiss frowned and looked at her friend. "You have to control those hands!"

- "Please, stop"- Spencer closed his eyes and whispered.

- "You just grabbed her ass in front of everybody here! And the other day I saw you! You were touching her shamelessly while you kissed her outside your car."- Emily argued, laughing.

- "We were in the parking lot!"- Reid argued, and (Y/N) bit her lips, trying not to laugh- "And why were you even watching us?"

- "I wasn't! I minded my own business, walking to my car, and you two were pulling off quite a spectacle out there"- Prentiss chuckled- "I didn't know you had it in you, Spence."

- "Yeah. I miss the shy kid"- Rossi added- "What happened to him?"

- "I broke him"- (Y/N) answered and smiled mischievously- "And that's all I can say about that subject."

Both Rossi and Prentiss frowned, pretending to be disgusted. (Y/N) just giggled and turned to Spencer, looking as innocent as possible.

- "Ok, enough of your deviant's attitudes, Spencer. Back to work."- Prentiss said and headed back to her office. Rossi looked at Spencer and smiled.

- "I'm kidding, kid, just keep your hands to yourself when I can see you"- Reid groaned and closed his eyes one more time as (Y/N) laughed.

- "Why do you think this is so funny?"- he asked his wife when no one was around.

- "I don't know. I guess I love teasing you"- (Y/N) simply answered and stuck out her tongue to him. She was about to walk back to her desk when she felt Spencer's hand grabbing her wrist tight, stopping her.

- "You are going to pay for this"- he muttered and looked right into her eyes, making her shiver in anticipation.

- "Just wait and see what happens when we are home."

- "What's gonna happen?"- she whispered and bit her lips, almost childishly.

- "You'll see what happens when you tease daddy at work,"- Spencer added and raised an eyebrow.

- "Daddy?!"- Luke wide opened his eyes, passing by the couple- "Are you fucking serious?!"

- "Oh shit!"- Spencer covered his face with both hands, and (Y/N) just burst out laughing.

- "I wanna pretend that never happened."- Luke said, staring at the couple.

- "Please, it never did. This never happened."- Spencer whispered, and Alvez nodded.

- "Got it, daddy."

[hopeshoodie]

I just realized how helpful reposting things is because @ariendiel​ posted screenshots of twitter threads that I couldn’t read in their entirety because I didn’t have a twitter account. And I realized that the Fusebox glassdoor reviews are also behind a ‘make an account’ screen, so maybe not everyone can see them.

So here are all the Glassdoor reviews for Fusebox Games

Image descriptions below the cut

5 Stars review from a current employee of less than one year, posted Jun 8, 2021

Title: Great people, company is indeed in the process to transform and that upsets some who got used to way things used to be.

Pros

People are great! I worked before in big companies with terrible culture and know what bad is. Salaries are matching the industry and have recently been increased quite a bit. The game, even though old and people are bored, is the leader in its genre. Very flexible working, half day Friday.

Cons

The company is rebranding and changing course and that is upsetting some who want things to be as they used to be. I think they need to understand that game companies need to make money if they want a job. So…I wouldn’t listen to all this people complaining. Come and join, now there opportunities for people to advance as old people leave and help us all shape a new future us all.

1 person upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

1 Star review from a current employee of less than one year, posted Jun 30, 2021

Title: A company killed by managers

Pros

None now, but the workers are amazing human beings. They are being pushed out one by one by upper management.

Cons

Upper managers have set the company towards failure. They stonewalled any attempt at bettering the production process, giving teams more structure and improving the tools, and now are set on the path of outsourcing everything to external partners, while they reap the benefits by owning the IPs. This company had some of the best workforce culture I have ever seen, but the CEO, together with current managers, have sacked key workers and managers that were fostering a collaborative and inclusive culture. They replaced these with corporate behaviour and a complicit newly hired HR department, using the bad financial position the company was in (and for which their decisions and actions were completely at fault for) as an excuse to force workers who wanted to better things out of the door.

7 people upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

1 Star review from a current employee of less than one year, posted Aug 17, 2021

Title: Corporate gaslighting

Pros

None now, but the workers are amazing human beings. They are being pushed out one by one by upper management.

Cons

Upper managers have set the company towards failure. They stonewalled any attempt at bettering the production process, giving teams more structure and improving the tools, and now are set on the path of outsourcing everything to external partners, while they reap the benefits by owning the IPs. This company had some of the best workforce culture I have ever seen, but the CEO, together with current managers, have sacked key workers and managers that were fostering a collaborative and inclusive culture. They replaced these with corporate behaviour and a complicit newly hired HR department, using the bad financial position the company was in (and for which their decisions and actions were completely at fault for) as an excuse to force workers who wanted to better things out of the door.

7 people upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

1 Star Review from a former employee, posted May 23, 2021

Title: Proceed with caution

Pros

Flexible hours Work from home Fair pay rises recently introduced

Cons

Extremely poor communication from the Senior Management. The team often don’t know what’s going on with decisions made in a haphazard way. There’s a rapid ‘hire and fire’ mentality - members of the team ‘disappear’ suddenly and without logic when it appears that their ‘face doesn’t fit’ or expressed an opinion to the top level of management that they didn’t want to hear. Hiring is random - ‘friends’ and ‘friends of friends’ get hired rather than those with suitable qualifications and experience. Bullying exists here and if reported you might be asked to leave rather than the complaint being dealt with properly.

14 people upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

2 Star Review from a former employee of more than one year, posted May 20, 2021

Title: Toxic place full of wonderful people

Pros

Fusebox is a company full of wonderful, caring and talented people that will make you feel at home.

Cons

Management doesn't care about employees and their opinion/feedback. Redundancies happen out of the blue and without clarity of reasons. False values get sponsored as a honey trap. There is no structure in most of the departments, no clear career path and people get squeezed until they have a breakdown.

14 people upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

2 Star Review from a former employee of more than one year, posted May 27, 2021

Title: Helmless ship -- with the best worker crew you will ever interact with

Pros

Genuinely the greatest workers you may ever have as colleagues. The workers are fun, helpful, energetic, passionate, skillful, witty and an incredibly friendly fellowship.

Cons

Management, or lack thereof. Driven by pseudo-corporatocracy: those who are quite happy scapegoating or throwing capable colleagues under the bus to distract from their own mistakes.

7 people upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

2 Star Review from a current employee, posted May 20, 2021

Title: A Blowing Fuse

Pros

- Very diverse, inclusive, friendly and respectful workforce.

- Good work-life balance, very understanding of needing personal time and generous with it, including for physical and mental health matters. 

 - Good benefits (occasional Fridays afternoons off, duvet days, training time and budget, private healthcare...), good salaries (much improved from a few years ago, although there might still be discrepancies between the teams). 

 - Promotions happen regularly, either to higher seniority levels or to different departments, which is nice, but can also be a con (see below).

 - Give chances to graduates/people looking for new roles (which can be a con, see below).

Cons

In summary: most of the management and staff is either incompetent, indecisive or not listened to, which makes the development of current and new games nigh impossible and the atmosphere increasingly negative. The management is attempting to make things better, but so far they have not actively listening and communicating with their workforce, and don’t seem to care much about them since they arbitrarily lay-off competent and appreciated employees. 

 - Indecisive and disorganised management, leading to slow or frozen project development, especially for new projects. 

 - The staff is not listened to; upper management makes decisions without consulting their teams, even the leads. Leads are often as clueless as their teams, if not more, about what is happening in the company. 

 - No creative direction/vision owner, no one seems to know what to do nor how to do it. 

 - Huge tech debt, the Unity project of the live game is almost unusable. 

 - Upper management does not understand how games are made, therefore can't provide the development teams with what they need. 

 - Somewhat exploitative towards junior staff, hiring straight from uni without proper mentoring/management; they abuse from their lack of experience and expect them to do all the work without any manager properly helping them, and/or expect them to do multiple jobs at once. There's a fine line between encouraging graduate/junior hiring, and hiring graduates because they're cheap and won't speak up because they have no other experience. 

 - Seniority is not always representative of the industry level, junior staff is sometimes being misled into thinking their skills and workflow are at industry level, because they get promoted without proper mentoring.

- Repeatedly make empty promises for years on, keep the staff motivated by promising new game development but it never happens, go back on their words, say everything and their opposite whenever it suits them. 

 - Mislead on hiring about what the role will be or can't always deliver on it; don't provide adequate support to get the job done or don’t give them the opportunity to do the work they were hired to do, don't understand game development workflows. - Poor communication across the different departments, there is no or very little aligment between the teams, teams often discover other teams have done work relevant to them long after the fact. 

 - The teams are not treated equally, some are treated as better than the others (which leads to very different experiences of the company between teams). The upper management does not understand the real impact each team has in the making of a good game. 

 - Sharing publicly feedback and questions with teammates and managers is reprehensible, many of the staff and managers can't take criticism; they say they want to improve that but they don’t put their money where their mouth is, the company communications are out of touch if not dishonest. 

 - Used to pride themselves on inclusivity but removed it from their values, and the teams are forbidden from making the game stories as inclusive as they want to; there are concerns of homophobia/transphobia with the product direction despite a good part of the company being queer. There is also a history of sexual harassment from higher-up. 

 - Office culture used to be good but company reorg led to a colder, impersonal communication with the staff. Live, honest communication is discouraged (even if they say they do want it). 

- HRs don’t have genuine talks with the staff, leading to a feeling of hypocrisy and disconnect between the company’s values and what the staff really wants.

18 people upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

1 Star Review from current employee, posted Jul 2, 2021

Title: Management do not know how to make games at all

Pros

Decent pay, lots of benefits, decent office, remote work if you need it

Cons

They do not care about their workers, full of people who don't know what it actually takes to make games, repeatedly lie to and ignore their employees' concerns, then blame those same workers when things go wrong, full of yes men and ideas people and led by people from outside the industry who have no idea what they are doing, avoid at all costs

9 people upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

5 Star Review from a former employee of less than 1 year, posted May 7, 2019

Title: Loved every minute, fantastic company to work for

Pros

Fun, relaxed environment and culture. 

Fantastic team. Everyone is so friendly, approachable and easy to talk to, including management. We had some great laughs. You'll make friends for life here. 

Beautiful new office in a handy location, although the company has almost outgrown it already within just a few months. 

I really enjoyed the work. The role is something I enjoy anyway, but the projects are a lot of fun and it's so satisfying seeing the fruits of your labours coming to life. 

Management has been ramping up efforts to be attentive, respond to and act on employee feedback and concerns as the company grows. 

The company's in a pretty good place, so job security is good (considering the industry's reputation). Fusebox ain't goin' nowhere. It's a particularly good place to get your start in the industry. 

This studio doesn't believe in crunch/unpaid overtime, which is... pretty rare. Management is dedicated to ensuring that Fusebox is as positive and non-exploitative a company as possible; for example, they take a great, understanding attitude to things like mental health. I always felt like I could talk to them. 

Overall, I had a brilliant experience at Fusebox and would 100% have stayed if I hadn't been offered something career-changing, which in itself would not have happened without the experience I got from this studio. Particularly for narrative designers, this role provides fantastic opportunities to develop your branching narrative skills. I've never written such a positive review for a former employer in my life and I would definitely work there again.

Cons

Lacking process and structure in some areas, though I believe this is something the company is actively working on tackling and it's definitely just a teething issue given the company's rapid growth. 

The pay is about average/maybe slightly on the lower end, but it's technically a startup, so... 

It's gradually growing slightly cliquey as the company grows, which is unfortunate but also to be expected, and everyone is still perfectly friendly and nice. Again, I believe management has been taking steps to mitigate this as much as possible, for example by introducing Slack integrations to encourage people to get lunch together at the same time rather than just in their friendship groups. 

Opportunities for upward/sideways career movement need improving/illuminating, especially for teams like integration.

1 person upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

1 Star Review from a current employee of more than 1 year, posted Nov 20, 2019

Title: Not a great company

Pros

Flexible hours 

Nice team 

Ability to work from home

Cons

Management not decisive 

Staff take advantage 

Senior member of staff sacked trying to make decisions 

No transparency

Impossible schedules

10 people upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

5 Star Review from a current employee of less than one year, posted May 27, 2019

Title: Amazing place to work!

Pros

Really friendly environment, surrounded by talented, fun people who are passionate about the work, lovely office space.

Cons

No cons! A great environment.

No one upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

5 Star Review from a current employee of less than one year, posted Jan 24, 2017

Title: The most marvellous mobile games company in London

Pros

Fast paced, super creative business working in partnership with some of the biggest names in entertainment. Making huge games for TV shows loved all over the world.

Cons

It all happens very fast and very professionally- keep up! (Sometimes less is more, don't you think? Not here though)

No one upvoted this/marked it as ‘found helpful’

[labarboteuse]

Sonate au Clair de Lune (Richard “Dick” Winters x OC)

Hello everyone ! Here is a little something with our favorite ginger-head nobody asked for. I've been wanting to try something for a while now, so here it is, see you at the end of the chapter. Enjoy !x 💕

As always, there’s no disrespect towards the real men of the company. It’s only based on their portrayals in the mini serie

Taglist : @supervalcsi  @ourmiraclealigner | Let me know if you want to be added. 😊

Warning : evocation of a dramatic war event

Sitting on a chair among the audience, Jeanne was stood straight as possible to see the scene where the orchestra was playing composition of Beethoven. As a linen maid in a Parisian hotel, she had spared money for months with her two friends and colleagues Gisèle and Solange to have the chance to afford an entrance for tonight’s performance at the Opera Garnier. Her family had never been rich, but she had received an education and music had been part of the instruction for the girls. She had quickly developed a passion for music but never had the financial means to learn to play an instrument or to attend performances.

The first notes of the “Moonlight Sonata” resounded in the Italian style theatre. Shivers came over her as she unconsciously played with the fabric of her little purse on her lap. Jeanne loved this piece that gave her a deep calm, whenever she felt bad, she would play the notes in her head to calm herself. As the composition was coming to an end, it provided to her a feeling of nostalgia, she thought to her parents she hadn’t seen for a while, her parents she had left few years ago to gain the capital city hoping it would be easier to find a job. Her parents had pushed her to leave the countryside in the Southwest of France where they were living, when she was 19 years old, convinced that she would have a better life by reaching Paris. No one had imagined that barely two years after her arrival war would be declared and that a little less than a year later the city would be under German occupation for the next four years. When Jeanne had arrived, she had to live for a few weeks on the meagre savings her parents had given her, then she finally found a small job as a linen maid in a hotel where she met Gisèle and Solange, the three of them having since become inseparable.

Her thoughts lulled by the music made her forget time and it was only when Solange gently pressed her arm that she came back to reality and realized that the performance was over. She gave her friend a friendly smile and stood up putting her brown coat back on before following her friends towards the exit.

She took advantage of each second passed in the building on her way out to admire the architectural beauty of the place she will not see again so soon. Once the three friends outside, they stopped at the foot of the stairs the time Gisèle lights her cigarette.

“C’était merveilleux!” - “It was wonderful!” exclaimed Solange. Jeanne laughed in front of the sparkling eyes of her friend, who had never had the chance to attend this kind of event either.

“Je suis d’accord, c’était magnifique, j’en ai eu des frissons.” - “I agree, it’s was beautiful, I got chills.” Jeanne passed her hands on her arms with a smile on her face.

Gisèle blew the smoke from her cigarette and nodded her head.

“C’est toi que nous devons remercier pour nous avoir persuadé de venir.”  - “We have you to thank for convincing us to attend.” She said to Jeanne and made a small reverence to her friend which made the three of them laugh.

People would walk by and sometimes look at them with curiosity, sometimes with a haughty look. It was the kind of event that attracted the Parisian gratin, dressed in their most beautiful clothes and adorned with their finest jewellery. And sometimes among this worldliness were simple people who had saved months or even a year to afford a place among the least expensive. Needless to say, Jeanne and her friends made a splash among the crowd.

“Allons-nous en avant qu’ils n’appellent la Maréchaussée pour nous évacuer.” - “We should go before they called the police to evacuate us.”  Gisèle mocked sarcastically.

The three girls laughed before leaving arm in arm. It was getting late but the city was far from sleeping, yet they had to return to their sinister little room on the top floor of an old building because they were starting their day very early. Gisèle and Solange separated from Jeanne once they arrived at their subway station to be able to return to their neighbourhood.

The young women kissed each other before saying good night. Once her two friends had left, Jeanne decided to walk along the Seine and enjoy the clear night and the beauty of the city before returning to her bed.

 As she walked along the quays, she couldn't help but admire the people around her who were enjoying the evening on the terraces of the illuminated bars and restaurants, life went back to normal. Since the Liberation in August, she enjoyed wandering the streets of Paris, especially in the evenings when it was less crowded and it was easier to admire the architectural gems without being pushed around by passers-by. She took pleasure in rediscovering this City of Light that had lost its luster during the past four years. Four years under occupation, fear, constant surveillance, violence generated by the reprisals of German soldiers against the resistance movements of civilians, attacks, shortages and rationing that had led a large part of the population to turn to the black market to provide for their needs, which Jeanne had been a victim of. Her meager salary already did not allow her to live a decent life, she had believed that she would not survive this.

Like many inhabitants, she had been a witness of the arrests of the Vel' d'Hiv’ Roundup in 1942, an event that had deeply marked the population, many of whom had bitter memories. A deep sadness invaded her thinking of all these victims, which gave her a shiver and she tightened her coat around her.

And then came August of that year 1944, the city had been liberated and Jeanne still remembered the feeling of relief.

Lost in her thoughts and without looking where she was going, she didn’t see the silhouette which also didn't look where it was going and ran into it.

The shock made her drop her bag and the program of the evening that she was still holding in her hands as if to prove to herself that the evening had indeed taken place. She crouched down to pick up her things and her head hit the head of the person she had collided with. She held her hand to her forehead and grimaced, releasing a sound of pain. The man had also crouched down to pick up her belongings and stammered something in English that sounded like an apology.

She stood up at the same time as he did, his head down, he glanced at the program he had in his hands and a small smile stretched his lips before straightening his head towards her.

“Sonata No. 14?”

A shy smile was born on her lips and she gently nodded her head, she may not have been bilingual but the music with this universal aspect made her understand what he had said. He gently handed her the booklet and she gently grabbed it and they stood there for a few seconds without either of them letting go of the paper and looking into each other's eyes. Finally, almost embarrassed, he nodded his head without letting go of his little smile and moved aside, passing by her to get back on his way, without taking his eyes off her before finally turning around so as not to bump into someone again.

Jeanne lowered her head towards the program cover with her shy smile still clinging to her lips, a strange feeling in her chest.

She finally returned home without any further incident and went to bed that night-joyful, not really knowing if it was because of her evening or her brief encounter with that soldier.

 ___

The next day she hurried to the hotel where she worked to take her shift. When she arrived she saw that the girls had already arrived and she hastened to take off her coat and put on her black apron, she had lost a few minutes in the subway and this made her arrive slightly late. When she met Solange on the service staircase, she learned that Louise, the fourth girl on the team, was sick and that they had divided up the rooms she should have taken care of between them three.

Jeanne hurried to fetch the clean towels to prepare the rooms before new customers arrived. In her haste she forgot to go upstairs one floor more and opened the door of the second room on the third floor, thinking it was the fourth. She didn't even realize that the door hadn't been locked, so there must was already someone in. She walked towards the bed and bent down to put down the towels on it when she stopped and slowly turned her head over a brown uniform lying there. She was abruptly struck by her stupidity and suddenly straightened herself up, perhaps a little too much, as she stumbled over a pair of boots and was about to finish her fall on her buttocks when she was caught by an arm that slipped around her waist.

Surprised, she quickly deviated of it and apologized, her babbling doesn't really wanted to meant something. She retrieved the towels from the bed before turning around and coming face to face with the same man as the evening before. He was only wearing a white shirt and a black underwear, he was probably in the bathroom when she entered that’s why she didn’t noticed someone was there.

“Vous ?” - “You?”

It was the mysterious stranger she had bump the night before. The same red hair, the same blue-grey eyes and that embarrassed smile so touching.

“Are you following me?” He asked both embarrassed and amused at the same time.

“Pardon ? Non !” - “Sorry?No!”

She tried to add something but nothing came out of her mouth and she shook her confused head.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t know this room was occupied.” She explained herself with a rather wobbly accent, which he found quite charming and which slightly stretched his smile.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

Like the day before, they looked at each other in the whites of their eyes without saying anything, and then finally regaining the use of her limbs and speech, she walked towards the door, still stammering.

“I’m Dick.”

Even him was surprised of the words which came out of his mouth, what’s the point of telling her? He asked for himself. Also surprised of his words she turned towards him and it took her a moment before reacting.

“Jeanne.” She finally said calmly before rushing out, feeling her cheeks usually pale white turning into crimson red, so she hurried out before he noticed and that she looked ridiculous, at least more than she already did.

Dick looked at her in amusement and his gaze remained for a few seconds riveted on the door that had just closed.  

“Jeanne.” He says soflty to himself, a smile on the corner of his lips.  

 ____________________________________________

It's up to you! Do you think it's better to stop there? 🤔 Or how do you see a potential sequel? 😊

Throw me your ideas, they are the ones that will determine the rest of the story! Or not, it's up to you!🤷🏼‍♀️ It's your story!😉

[dearmrsawyer]

well IT WAS A YEAR. it was also emotionally two weeks and five years? lol. its been a lot, but there were some real positives from this year that i wanna reflect on just because! they’re nice to think about!!

i’d love to know if any of you have any positive things from your year that you’d like to reflect on. accepting asks where we can celebrate your little wins too :)

in general i’m just quite proud of myself for how i’ve managed the library this year, given that its just me. its been hard feeling more disconnected from our students, and also trying to provide them with support that can reach across the void created by distance learning. it wasn’t 100% successful all the time! but it can’t be, and i never aimed for that. i just did everything that i felt i could reasonably do as a single individual, and i think i did my best! i spent a lot of this year driving out to post books to our students, or meeting them at convenient locations to do book swaps, and i’ve spent a lot of time coaching academics through online systems over zoom so that they could effectively teach their subjects, and i’ve spent a lot of nights and weekends prepping materials that needed to be made available to students ahead of class, because our academic staff weren’t able to finish them while i was still on the clock (i’m def not trying to @ our academics here! they’ve been delivering material late all year bc of how much extra work they’ve had to take on too! its just the roll on effect bc i’m the last link in the chain). i’ve felt a huge sense of camaraderie with many of my colleagues this year, and am grateful i had them to make this work year more manageable. but i know i’ve been doing a lot of hidden work and i think i did well :)

oh man i loved turning off my wake up alarm in march and never turning it on again!!!! I think i can count the number of times i’ve had to use my alarm on one hand, and they were mostly dr appointments. it feels so comfortable to wake up when my body decides, whether its 6am or after i should already be working LOL. there have definitely been ebbs and flows to how well i’ve slept throughout the year, sometimes i know exactly what’s affecting my sleep and sometimes i have no idea, but regardless, the absence of an impending alarm has been such a nice way to compensate for.. everything else lol

i started growing vegetables!!!!!! I spent a week in March digging out a patch of my yard, and then the next month or two growing seedlings, and i successfully grew snow peas, silverbeet, beetroot and lettuce :D i also added dill to my herb garden, and successfully propagated thyme and lemongrass! i did attempt a few other vegetables that didn’t pan out, mostly because snails kept eating my seedlings jkjdgkj but it was so exciting to successfully grow something that i could then EAT! and i’ve also been able to figure out which vegetables i consider more convenient to grow, for example buying leafy greens can be super inconvenient bc i find its often impossible to use them all before they go bad. they sell greens in such ridiculously large bunches! but growing them myself, i can go out and pick however many leaves i want, and the rest won’t go bad because they’re still on the plant! i also started to stagger how many seeds i wanted to grow which meant they weren’t all maturing at the same time, and i didn’t need to use them all at the same time. 

Supernatural finished this year which was NOT a highlight 😭 but it was originally scheduled to finish in May, and i was given the gift of 6 whole extra months to live with this show as a work in progress. as much as i still wasn’t ready to say goodbye in November (would i have ever been ready), i was given so much unexpected extra time to appreciate being IN it while it was still going. i spent so much of this year reflecting on how big a part of my life this show has been, and how much its given me and shaped me. from the ages of 14 to 29 i was able to live with this show as a close friend, and i’ve never taken that for granted, but i am so thankful for the extra time i was given to reflect and appreciate it even more deeply. also supplementary highlight is how much that ending meant to me <3 the world can think whatever it wants but i was on that journey for 15 years, i was there for every episode, never falling behind or taking a break, and that ending honoured the story i watched, and i am very grateful that the pain of it ending was cushioned by the sense of peace and fulfilment that ending gave me. 

i finally found hair products that WORK!!!!! i’ve had the same hair routine for like a decade (basically sans products) and i thought i should use this extended period of time where i exist unobserved to experiment. i’ve never really bought hair products for myself, i’ve always inherited them from my mum bc she always had a surplus of products she’s collected over the years. our hair couldn’t be more different so i’ve never experienced a product that was particularly effective LOL. i have v dry hair that’s naturally curly/wavy but extremely frizzy, and i have soo much of it!! so many hairs on my head! my mission was to find a way to let it dry naturally without all that frizz popping up, and without having to dry it in two big twists. the only products directed at curly hair that i’ve ever been aware of is mousse, which used to give people that crunchy look that i can’t staaaaaand but i’ve spent a few months buying quite a lot of products and testing them out one after another, and i’ve found a couple that i absolutely LOVE!! this is big for me bc i always structured my week around when i wash my hair (the day of and day after i’m unavailable lol). i’ll still have to structure my time around it somewhat bc it takes so so long to dry, but its going to be less of a drama if i have to do things when its not completely dry yet, and also i just feel like i’m finally getting to let my hair do its own thing without it stabbing me in the back 😂

i think that human connection has probably been more important this year than ever before, and i’ve often felt like maintaining connections requires energy i just haven’t had for a lot of this year. but i also feel like i have been very connected? i feel like i put in the work. my best friend and i shared a few phone calls this year even though neither of us have ever really been big on phone calls (neither of us have ever talked with people on the phone much in our lives lol). i’ve skyped with my Norwegian friend Ellen almost every month this year!! my friend Bel and i started exchanging sporadic voice messages again, which i’ve just loved. i’ve video chatted with Steph even though it was a scary new venture! and it was so amazing! i do feel like i’ve had less interaction with people on my dash this year, but i feel like working from home has changed the ebbs and flows of my energy throughout the day sooo much, and i just haven’t been online as much when other people are, but i’ve spent a lot of time connecting with people over whatsapp! when it comes to family, being around my grandparents was really really stressful for the first half of the year, but as the situation in Australia eased we relaxed enough that we were comfortable to spend time with them without our masks (plus we weren’t seeing anyone else lol). and i was able to make myself available to them more often while working from home, since i live only a minute away! we stopped having our big family lunches until September, and when we were finally able to get back together we enjoyed each other’s company so much. so while i haven’t been face to face with people on a daily basis, i don’t think i’m any less connected to the people that matter than i was a year ago.

[wevegottogetaway]

Whirlwind Part I - Mistral

DAY 0

Time seems to slow down but the speedometer on Aella's Triumph says otherwise. As the needle flirts with the 124mph mark, it's hard to tell wether she's the one chasing after the wind or the other way around. Miles after miles, her beloved motorbike swallows up the empty road offering itself before her, almost begging her to throw speed limits cautions to the wind. Speed has no secret for Aella though. Brown eyes steady on the asphalt, her focus is unswerving. Yet, she's never felt more free and insouciant.

Except maybe when she's flying.

In the tight confine of her Tomcat, as she defies other kinds of laws, Aella seeps in a whole new world. One where she makes her own physics, her own rules. One where the sky in no longer a limit and neither is her gender. Because when she occupies the cockpit of the F-14 - a baby only a handful of aviators are lucky to even sit in - she's just that: an aviator. A squadron unit who receives missions and completes them. Once her feet tread the tarmac though, the reality is quickly sobering. That's why Aella has learnt to savor each one of the limited hours she spends in the in-between realm of the stratosphere.

Tilting her head briefly to look at the clear sky above her, Aella lets a smile grace her lips as she realizes she'll be back up there very soon. And in high amounts at that. A few years ago, she could have only dreamt to be recruited as part of the most elitist of naval aviation programs in the world. But after years of working twice as hard as her fellow Navy fighter pilots and putting up with their never-ending bullying, her resilience has finally paid off. The memory of their crest-fallen faces when their Commander announced her promotion in front of them all is still one of her favorite. And on that note, they can respectfully kiss her ass.

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just life. But no matter how serendipitous the death of Navy fighter Jonathan Evans, she'll be the one taking his place in the US Navy's Fighter Weapons School's Top Gun program. It was a regrettable news but one that changed Aella's destiny forever.

San Diego's sun is just as blazing as LA's, but the nice breeze the city benefits from neighboring the ocean makes it easier to breath. The streets are void of the usual hustle and bustle that inhabits the city of angels, but the palm-trees-lined streets seem to remain a consistent feature of the Californian landscape.

After driving in two hours what should have been a three hours ride, Aella finally pulls up in front of a single-story condominium situated on the street that runs alongside the shore. Taking in the magical scenery that surrounds her new place, she finds herself standing front row for the sun's crepuscular show.

Aella has always loved sunsets. She fell in love with their ephemeral hues when she was 7 and already wanted to make the sky hers. At 25 years of age, they now serve as a reminder that regardless of the fact she knows it like the back of her hand, the blue immensity still withholds secrets that are meant to remain forever's mysteries.

Aella finally makes her way to her new home and her eyes immediately fall on the three large boxes that she had sent from LA the week prior, as per US Navy's request. Waiting for her on the floor, they seem quite a bit lonely in the otherwise empty room. The place is small but designed well enough to be comfortable. The L-shape kitchen directly on the right upon entrance shares one main open space with the living room and dining room, though the term "room" is to be taken loosely. Mostly, they consist of a dining table placed in the center, and a sofa facing a TV set at the back. Between the two, french doors lead the way to a small garden; just enough space for a sun lounger and a small outdoor table.

Aella doesn't expect to be around much as most of her days will be spent at the training center, but as she starts unpacking, she can already picture herself living there anyway. Early runs on the beach, morning coffees out with the birds chirping the news of the day and some lazy reading on the lounger when she's lucky to have a day off. That night, as she lays on her bed waiting to be taken in Morpheus' arms, Aella relishes in the jitters of happiness that course through her veins.

She can't remember the last time she was so impatient for tomorrows.

DAY 1

To say the San Diego Fighter Weapons School's campus is huge would be an understatement. Aella has been on plenty bases during her short naval aviator career, but they all pale in comparison with the three massive hangars standing ahead of her. Deeply rooted on these holy grounds, they serve as home for no less than 30 of the most powerful aircrafts ever designed in the world. Perched on her Triumph, Aella can't help but slow to a more moderate speed as she drives past them. She can feel her heart bouncing in joy at the sight of the F-14 Tomcats, F/A-18 Hornets and F-16 Fighting Falcons neatly aligned like pawns on a chessboard ready to be pressed into service.

Finally, the main buildings come into view. They house all the administration offices as well as lecture and conference rooms. Indeed, part of the Top Gun program takes place indoors (that is, not in a cockpit) as trainees are taught advanced combat strategy, theories of air-to-air and air-to-ground missions, and most painful of all, the riveting matters of astrophysics. In addition to their scientific knowledge and flying skills, the recruits will also be tested on their physical fitness.

That's what Aella dreads the most. While she could probably recite all of Newton's laws in her sleep and fly a supersonic twin-engine, variable-sweep wing fighter aircraft with an arm in a cast, she's positive the physical examination is what might give her the most trouble. Not that she's in bad shape. Obviously one has to be quite fit to be able to handle 25 tons of titanium rocketed at more than 1500mph. But alas, the minimum requirements generated by the State for the final physical examination have yet to be adapted to female dispositions.

The military field has definitely still plenty of room left for improvement when it comes to women's interests...

Two men in their service uniforms are casually conversing in the parking lot when Aella pulls up with her Triumph. One seems to be in the middle of a thrilling story judging by his gesticulating limbs, while the other listens to him, cigarette pinched between his lips. As soon as the latter's eyes fall on Aella though, he interrupts his friend with two taps on his torso. The shock on his face quickly turns into a condescending smirk as his eyes shamefully scan Aella from head to toe. His friend turns around intrigued and it's not long before his features mirror the same irksome smug.

For a few seconds too many, Aella doesn't react. She simply stares at the jerks standing a few feet from her like they might be two very realistic-looking hallucinations. A sick jock her brain is playing on her by materializing ghosts from her past when she's least expecting them. Aella doesn't know who she's the most angry at: Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for looking at her like she's a hot commodity or herself because she'd actually thought it wouldn't happen here.

It takes all of her self-control and then some to keep her from rushing over and giving them a piece of her mind. Instead she just swallows back the crude remarks she's dying to throw at them and puts her uniform cap on. Maybe there weren't checking her out but the Triumph behind her instead. Maybe she just bumped into the two assholes of the program. Maybe the 13 other recruits will turn out to be actual decent human beings who acknowledge women's worth in the Navy and will treat her as an equal. Aella tries to keep the positive thoughts coming as she heads towards the main building for the induction speech.

Still, she can't help the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The effervescence of the conference room is almost palpable as loud chatter and boisterous laughters bounce off its walls. Taking in the glorious sight of her fellow trainees, Aella already feels like an outsider. Easily distinguished by their uniform, they're all bantering like they've all known each other their entire life, even though the program hasn't officially started.

From afar she recognizes the two morons from the parking lot, sitting on tables as they're gathered around a balky blond man completely sprawled out on a chair with aviator sunglasses tucked in the front of his kaki shirt. Because of his lazy posture, he has to look up at his disciples but it is clear that he's the last person to be looked down on.

Aella already despises the narcissistic vibe he exudes. That disdainful and self-assured attitude which makes her want to rip his stupid head off. It's certainly not the first of his kind she's had to partially work with and sadly, it will definitely not be the last.

"Oi, Rex! How's it goin' man?" Another block yaps.

"Snyder," Rex chuckled. "'Was doin' good till ya ugly face showed up"

"Ah, 's not what the ladies say..." Snyder replies, completely unfazed by the playful dig made at him.

"That's cause you woo them drunk, you bastard." The whole group of them burst in laughters as Snyder rolls his eyes.

"Speaking of lass, I heard there was a bird joining the ranks with us? 'S up with that?"

Aella immediately stiffens as she hears the dreaded words. Ones that make it crystal clear she's gonna be the odd one out right from the start. Not to be mistaken, Aella takes great pride in being one of the very few female fighter pilots of the US Navy but all the self-confidence in the world couldn't amount to the loneliness she always feels on base. Amongst the 'mates', she's never more than a fellow recruit, watching from afar her colleagues' relationships blossoming from mere work affiliations to ones of brotherhood.

Finally making her way to the last seat available in the audience, Aella feels the energies in the room drastically shift. Voices are no longer clashing in rowdiness; instead, the air is charged by the intensity of the quiet stares following her silhouette. However, the silence is interrupted by the sound of a flirtatious whistle that does no wonder for her already-tested nerves. God does she hate men sometimes.

"Well, well, well...look at that guys. I think the eagle has landed its cute ass down."

Aella is about to pop a knuckle from how hard she's clenching her fists. How foolishly naive she was to believe that things would be different. That joining Top Gun with the 'best of the best' would give her solace from the incessant chauvinistic behaviors she'd been so used to. If anything, the prestige of their accomplishments has exacerbated the arrogant disposition of their ego-inflated character.

Aella knows better than to respond though. No matter how quick-witted the comeback, it never works in her favor. So once again, she just takes a deeper breath and settles in her seat facing forwards. She is saved from hearing more about her eagle ass by two impressive figures marching in the room towards the front. Postures straighten, smirks vanish and a de facto silence ensues at the officers' arrival. Respect is almost tangible in the air, and it has little to nothing to do with the plethora of decorations adorning their white uniforms, and everything to do with the aura of invincibility transpiring in their intimidating gaze.

"Gentlemen," one of them starts before tilting his head towards Aella and adding a soft "ladies." He then proceeds with a quick scan of the room. Years of experience standing on that very same stage have forged the unyielding yet somewhat benevolent eyes landed on the students' expecting faces.

"You were probably told that you were here because you are the best of the best. Well, let me set things straight: you're not. Not yet anyway. You might be lieutenants out there, but on these grounds, you are nothing but students. My job, is to make you unbeatable up there. Your job, is to trust me in doing so. That means no challenging orders and no cocky attitude or any funny business. If you respect that, you might have your name on one of these plaques in 5 weeks. Until then, work your hardest. My name is Aaron Berks and I will be your Commander. Everyone, welcome to Top Gun."

Commander Berks offers a light smile to his audience, and Aella has a feeling it's not a sight she will be privy to very often. She likes him though. He seems intransigeant but wise, proud but not arrogant and no matter how cold his exterior, he has the warmth of a master who looks after his apprentice. A caring facet that resembles that of fatherhood, and Aella knows she'll be able to trust Berks just like he asked in his introduction speech.

After a brief silence, the class' attention is once again captured by one of the officer. Taller and bulkier, this one is definitely missing that fatherly vibe Aella is so found of. "Gentlemen, I am Lieutenant Commander Wayne Rogers, I will teach you the art of naval strategy in flight combat alongside Commander Berks. You will also have the pleasure to have me whip your asses in physical testing. As you know, Top Gun is structured around 3 ranges of expertise, namely: naval strategy both in theory and practice, advanced astrophysics knowledge and physical training. Needless to say, you will be tested in more ways than one. And just a heads-up, I don't do no favor. To anyone."

Aella cringes for a second as she wonders if there is any implicit lines to read behind Lieutenant Rogers' clipped tone. She already dreads the time she will have to spend under his teaching. She doesn't have the time to dwell on it though, before Rogers resumes his speech. "Anyway, enough with the pretty words, let's go over the program. As you know, the 16 of you will form 8 crews who will be confronting each other and us instructors to master advanced dogfighting tactics. Each of the 25 missions you will be assigned during the program will earn you points. Your aptitudes in physical training will also earn you point, as well as your results in astrophysics evaluations. I'm sure you can guess who wins the Top Gun trophy at the end of the program. Bear in mind, that all instructors have the right to deduct points from your score should they deem your actions or behavior disrespectful, underserving or quite simply unacceptable. On that note, welcome to Top Gun, class dismissed."

As soon as Lieutenant Rogers voices the discharging words, the room is once again caught in a rambunctious nebula of clacks and clatters. Everyone is making their way out when the commander's voice transcends the ongoing commotion; steady and resonant.

"Officers Styles and Lonethorne."

Aella's brows immediately wrinkle as she recognizes her last name. Turning around, she sees Commander Berks intently looking at her as if beckoning her over. Obediently she makes her way up to the front of the room where Berks hasn't moved an inch since the beginning of the induction. Soon she realizes she's being followed by a tall lanky man. His face, objectively handsome, doesn't seem to show any emotion but Aella doesn't have much time to further study his features as she finally reaches her commander.

"I wanted to welcome you both personally given the circumstances. Styles, you have my support and condolences. Lieutenant Evans was a very fine man and gifted flyer." Aella is a bit thrown off by the declaration. It takes her an extra second to figure out the reason of her presence for this discussion. Once she does, her attention is immediately drawn to the silent man standing next to her, his face still not displaying any feelings, as though his skin was made of cold marble.

"Harry, this is Aella Lonethorne. Her former chief has nothing but praises to say about her flying skills. She will be your partner for the next 5 weeks." A nod and the brief connection of his emeralds to Aella's sapphires seems to be all the assertion elicited from Harry. No handshake, no hello, not even the pucker of a brow. Commander Berks might as well have announced the refectory's lunch menu, the lad's reaction would have been the same.

"Miss Lonethorne, it's a pleasure to have you on base, I have no doubts you two will achieve great things together." It is such a relief for Aella to realize her first impression of Berks was spot on. He is the kind of manager that leads with strength in his fists but encouraging lyrics on the edge of his lips. There is no hint of condescension fueled by the power high of his status, coloring the tone of his voice. It's something Aella has seen a few times. Pleasant comrades turned into aloof leaders full of bitterness from their years of submission and laden by the hierarchy's expectations. Commander Berks never yielded to that pressure though, it was clear in his wholesome nature.

"Thank you Commander, it's a real honor." Aella responds in genuineness.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it. See you both on the tarmac" he exclaims with a smile before making his way out. Berks departure leaves enough room for tension to settle between the newfound partners like a third interlocutor taking the warmed place of their superior.

Harry is still keeping mum, unfocused eyes staring somewhere far off on the floor while his mind appeared to be wandering the secret passages of never-never land. It freaks the hell out of Aella though she doesn't show it. They are a team now. They're supposed to trust, rely on each other and have the other's back no matter what. Yet, she doesn't even know the sound of his voice and it doesn't seem like he's gonna give her the time of day anytime soon.

Aella is about to speak up when Harry suddenly shakes his head out of its hypnotic trance. For a second she thinks he's gonna initiate conversation himself but instead he just tilts his head in her general direction and rasps a weak 'see you' before storming off the room. Aella is left in total disarray, she doesn't comprehend why he's acting like a 3 year-old running off because he's scared to say hi to the postman. Is it because she's not what he expected in a partner? God she hopes not. He doesn't strike her as a misogynistic prick, didn't really show any sign of disgust or clear animosity. But then again he was impossible to read.

After exiting the teaching building and mounting her precious Triumph, Aella feels the dread resurfacing. It is such a big contrast to how she felt when she left this morning. All the thrill and elation that had bubbled in the pits of her stomach just evaporated into disillusion, leaving a fog of uncertainty in Aella's frenzied mind. This was supposed to be a drama-free experience; a chance to be recognized and treated with respect.

Instead she got barely acknowledged.

The music coming out of Godspeed's is so resoundingly loud Aella can feel the bass line thumping through her whole body. Standing across the street from the entrance, she's still hesitating joining in the merrymaking even though she can hear the spirits calling out her name. Despite the crispiness of the air, a few rowdy souls are camping out front, obviously warmed over by the substance in their glass and the nicotine stick between their lips.

The dodgy pub never lacks in visitors no matter how threadbare the furniture, tacky the decoration and questionable the sanitation prove to be. Truth be told, the popularity of the place can be explain by one and sole reason: it is, lo and behold, the only bar on base. A fact that implies 99% of its customer base works in the US Navy, and thus explains why one could usually count on one hand the number of people dressed in day-to-day clothes.

Bracing herself, Aella finally makes her way inside the bar. The smell of booze and fries immediately invades her nostrils but she pays it no mind. Instead she takes in her surroundings from the swaying of hips on the torrid dance floor to tokens passionately thrown at a table with a pair of aces following. The sound of glasses clinking blends with that of drunken laughters and even drunker squawks. It's nothing but good times and pent-up stress release, and for a moment Aella is really glad she decided to show up. She was told Induction's Rave was not to be skipped.

Unfortunately, as she heads for the bar, Aella's eyes fall upon a few familiar yet loathsome faces. It appears the infamous Rex and his phony clique didn't want to miss out on the festivities either. Much to Aella's dismay, they are all huddled around the counter monopolizing the bartender's attention and just like that, she knows a relaxing time is not in her cards for tonight. There is no way she can walk out of this with both a drink in her hand and her composure intact. It would be too easy.

Strategically, she waits till the barman is done with them before voicing her request as inconspicuously as she can. "May I have a Vodka Martini, please?" she asks just as the bartender lifts his eyes from the counter he was wiping. She originally went for a pint but somehow she had an inkling it wouldn't quite suffice. The guy nods and leaves to mix her precious elixir but just as she thinks she might make it through unscathed, the obnoxious voice she has come to strongly despise cuts through the pub's damp air.

"Gotta stop trying to play James Bond, darling. S'just not for you." Snickers. "Now, James Bond girl on the other hand, you definitely have the proper assets for that." Once again, every guy within Rex's arm radius bursts into insipid laughter as the mockery tumbled out of his mouth. She doesn't have to look his way to picture the disgusting smirk he must be sporting. Jerk.

From the corner of her eye, Aella recognizes the lonesome lad sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a Bourbon with tinted cheeks and glossy irises. There is no doubt he's in a slightly inebriated state but his participative chuckle still stings. Maybe even more so than Rex's offensive words for Harry is supposed to be her closest ally. She doesn't expect him to jump to her defense, wouldn't want him to anyway, but she's profoundly disappointed he would find such humor in someone degrading her that way. The thought angers her so much, she doesn't realize Harry is actually showing some kind of emotion at last. It's not the one she wanted anyhow; not when it's at her expense.

She's handed her drink before Rex speaks up again. "You think you can just sweep in and fight the bad guys with your pretty hair and 5 pounds muscles? I mean, come on darling, you're not meant for the job." She'd started to walk away at first but Rex's lousy rant makes her halt in a sudden. "Just sit and look pretty like the others. Or fucking teach. You know what they say, right? Those who can't, teach... Anything but the fucking Navy, yeah? We have enough wannabes as it is."

Deep breath. Tight fist. Down the Vodka. Then she turns around and marches up to him, armed with daggers in her eyes and a punch away from feeling better. She doesn't hit him though. Has more dignity and self-control than that. "You should really consider shutting your goddamn mouth before I show you just what I can or can't do." Aella's tone is cold; colder than the marble of Harry's face from earlier that day.

As she expects, they don't take her seriously and giggles erupt all around her. "Darling, I really wouldn't mind," is what he replies with a suggestive lip bite and a smug that rivals her scowl in intensity. He's dangerously toying with her last nerve and he knows it. Deliberately exploits it in the hopes of seeing her explode and then crumble into pieces. That's how Aella knows she has the upper hand. She knows how guys like him work, what gets them going and their tactics to achieve that, but Rex has no clue what she's like. He's deluding himself into thinking he's pushing her break-down button when in reality he's in for something else.

Nobody knows that yet, except maybe Harry.

As a quiet and incredibly guarded individual, Harry proves to be a tremendous observer. It might come off as standoffish though he doesn't mean to, but those who matter know and have accepted just how introverted his nature is. He knows he probably should have made an effort and better impression on his new copilot but the wound from his best friend's loss is still too fresh to be bothered. They'll get to talk soon enough anyway, is what he thought. Plus she didn't really go out of her way to make an impression herself, did she?

Now though, observing the sour interaction from afar, Harry's starting to think differently. He shrugged at Rex's crude remarks, already used to the block's insolence and admittedly amused at the childish antics. But as he becomes more attentive to Aella's shifting stance, it is obvious to him that she's not a person to ever take shit from anybody.

His suspicions are proved right when Aella slowly closes the few steps between her and Rex until her eyes level with his. "Oh Rex. The thing with guys like you, is you feel powerful because power was handed to you on a silver fucking platter." All the while talking, she moves to remove his hold from his glass. "I could have pity for you, really. You think you're good; you must even think you're the best but you're nothing more than a selfish privileged opportunistic prick who feels entitled to walk over anyone who won't fucking bow down before you." Then she chucks the rest of his Whiskey in one swallow and places the empty glass back on top of the counter next to them.

"Oh yeah?" Rex smirks as he watches her face closely, casually leaning on the bar. It works in her favor as he fails to notice her hand creeping around his own. Then the next thing he knows is a tremendous throb shooting from the joint between his thumb and index, all the way through his arm and up to his neck. The pain is seizing and has him doubled up like it is suddenly to painful to even stand straight.

Aella has never been more glad to learn a thing or two about pressure points.

"Yeah. And I might be smaller than you or less of a weightlifter than you are, but I can still bring you down wherever and whenever I want to. Don't you forget that." He's almost kneeling by now, arm twisted in a weird angle from where she's still applying pressure on his hand. Rex's acolytes seem to have lost their voice and giggles as they're all taking in the sudden reversal of the situation. They have probably never seen Rex in such a submissive position, hence the dazed expression of stupor plastered on their faces.

Aella finally releases the whimpering man at her feet. She's about to make her way out but she stops herself. "Oh and one more thing. You're cocky, and vile, and despicable. And one day, probably too late, you'll realize your arrogance is what will fail you."

Satisfied with her last words, Aella looks up at the scene around her. Most people are still engrossed in what they were doing when she first came in, oblivious to the whole confrontation. Then just as she turns around, her eyes catch Harry's broad frame, as though some magnetic field was coaxing them to his radiating force. She doesn't delay her departure though. Her steps barely falter on the way out but her mind is left in a whirlwind of thoughts.

He was smiling. Shy and in the corner of his lips. But genuine and almost knowing, like he'd been rooting for her the whole time. And really, for Harry to be on her side is everything Aella hopes for.

[patheticwithanem]

2020 in Retrospect

Hey friend,

I know it’s late, but I HAVE TO DO THIS. I kind of promised myself I’m writing about the year that was. I’m not exactly sure why; maybe it’s to put things in perspective going in to 2021? And today’s my fourth year anniversary with my employer, so I guess it’s perfect timing? (More on that later)

So I was going through my notes (I have this habit of writing down what happens on a daily basis - be it activities, emotions, drama, name it) and one thing’s for sure. 2020 SUCKED. It did. But I’m committing to this no matter what!

First things first: lots of profanities along the way. Well actually, I was about halfway writing the letter when fucking Tumblr decided to refresh and delete what I’ve been writing for about one fucking hour now. So I have to fucking do it all over again. If this is the Lord telling me to stop being sentimental about 2020, fret not my Lord! I’m one stubborn son of a bitch, so I’m carrying on.

Here’s how the rest of the year unfolded. 2020. Let’s go.

JANUARY. Reunions?

January 1. Had a get-together with a few relatives in Malabon. It was fun! I used to be so allergic to family reunions but I guess age creeping in changes you? You value people even more now? This was also the last time we’re able to spend some time with my uncle from Singapore. He brought his family to spend the holidays here. He’s a sweetheart and a great father who’s missed.

January 9. I attended a college dormmate’s wedding. I remember contemplating whether to go or not only to realize I’m actually lucky to be even invited given the fact that I chose to be distant for them for a long while. I also told myself that not showing up is so far from what I’m trying to be. Although I wasn’t there for the whole thing, I’m glad I did come. I was able to bond with my roommates once again whom I treated like brothers ten years ago and that was nice. A not-so-close dormmate even introduced me to his boyfriend and that’s huuuuge. The bride was beautiful too, and I’m glad she’s in the best place right now after all she’s been through. She’s a strong one, that girl.

January 11. Got invited to a birthday pool party of a colleague at work. I have to say I’m actually quite surprised I was invited to this. She’s always had my back though and always kind of looked after me, so I had to go. It was fun but I didn’t get drunk AT ALL. 

January 12. AND THIS IS WHERE SHIT STARTED HAPPENING. The Taal Volcano erupted. It was awful especially for everyone living near the area because everything was covered with ash. It was also a day before my brother’s birthday and we thought the ashfall would be worse the next day so we decided to celebrate earlier. 

January 19. Went to a fiesta. Did not expect to survive that at all. It was a different kind of neighborhood, but the people were nice. 

January 25. Went to a public market with co-workers to buy clothes, eat chicken wings for dinner and then our regular fix of karaoke. Good times. 

Anything else? I was able to book a birthday trip to Yogyakarta, which I eventually canceled because of youknowwhat. Tragic.

February. Blindside!

February 7. Blindside’s a bitch. Yes, that’s what I had written on my notes. I legitimately felt blindsided. So story: I have a friend who I found out was pregnant (let’s call her Ms. Preggy, sorry) and me and her bestfriend (let’s call him Work Son because he was my work son in a lot of ways) decided to hold an intervention for her. The four of us including a friend I’m going to call The-Now-Bestie (kind of a spoiler) whom I had a misunderstanding and was not in speaking terms with will be coming to Work Son’s place. Essentially, the goal was to make Ms. Preggy open up about her pregnancy and her issues with the douchebag father; make her feel that she has us and she doesn’t need to be alone in this. I think it went well, in that regard. However, the whole thing was awkward in epic proportions. It’s as if me and The-Now-Bestie didn’t want to acknowledge each other’s existence, and when we didn’t have a choice, we were sarcastic to each other. I also really felt like an outsider among the four that time; like I wasn’t supposed to be there and wasn’t really contributing to anything. It was a really lonely feeling. I decided to distance myself to them after that.

February 13. WINNERS AT WAR PREMIERE! Words can’t even express how excited I was to see some of my heroes again on screen! Parvati with that “phoenix rising from the ashes” confessional? Damn, girl! Still a fucking legend! It was also nostalgic Yul working his godfather magic once again. I’ve always seen him as a top-tier winner and someone I looked up to for what he represented to the Asian community and the history of Survivor. It was also nice seeing Kim, Tyson, Tony, Sophie, Natalie and Sandra. But I must say I kind of missed Todd. He was my favorite winner and was a great storyteller, a great strategist and a great character with an amazing comeback story. He would’ve been perfect for a season with this caliber of players. And as much as I hate Jeff Probst for shoving him down our throats, I wanted to see Cochran play with these winners! Caramoan’s my first season (a late superfan, yes) and he’s the very reason I got so hooked with the show. I used to think it’s a game where people like me never win. So to see someone like Cochran who’s awkward in every sense of the word (and owning it) win Survivor, it is very inspiring. I like speaking in metaphors and it’s funny how much metaphorical Survivor can be to how I see life now. I see Cochran and if he can win in Survivor, I feel like I can win in life, as silly as that sounds. Cochran sucked his first season, but he then went on to play this dominant game his second try while still managing to be the adorkable underdog that he is. I love that story. Man, I get so worked up when I talk about Survivor! I wish I had that same passion with anything else.

February 19. Mom slipped and had to be rushed to the nearest ER. Good thing there were no fractures and she was fine. I guess we can thank the fats for that? LOL

February 21 ‘til 23. WEEKEND STAYCATION! I needed this! Drinking at the hotel taproom with a live band? YES! Indian for lunch and surf-and-turf buffet for dinner? YES YES YES! That lamb chops, MY LORD. Thank you.

February 29. Leap Day. I started journaling again. 

March. FUCKING COVID.

March 16. The Start of the Lockdown we all come to love now (punk, sarcasm). 

March 17. Politics is so taboo to discuss especially over dinner. But then BAM. I had a major fight with my dad (and by major, I mean MAJOR in a get-out-of-the-house-in-the-middle-of-the-pandemic kind of major). It was basically about a comment he made that’s so misogynistic (towards the Vice President) that I just knew I can’t just let go. It was sooo bad I got all pissed, and when I’m pissed, I can get scary. Maybe it’s the voice or the eyes or both, but the fight got really heated on the verge of getting physical. Which now that I think about it is stupid just because of fucking different political views. Well, I can never get behind the President and they’re huge fans of him and I’ve come to terms with that but it’s just... bleh. I’m not even gonna try to rationalize it because I can’t. It’s just.. disgusting. Oh fucking well. 

April. Wander-fucking-lust.

April 1. I started a 30-day Financial Detox which basically meant no unnecessary expenses. No online shopping, no paying for leisure. None. It was April Fools, but I was dead-set on saving! (Spoiler alert: I failed.)

April 6. Meltdown. I just really couldn’t hold it in anymore.

April 11. Dad’s birthday. After not talking for over a month (which is no easy feat in a tiny condominium unit), we acknowledged each other’s presence. By April 15, it’s like nothing happened anymore. He even gave me a home haircut (which for a beginner, is pretty good). On other news, I started watching The Politician on Netflix and t’was the day I started obsessing on Ben Platt and his music. 

April 16. A year ago, I was enjoying sidewalk pho and almost making friends at Cu Chi Tunnels and the Saigon Skydeck of the Bitexco Financial Tower in Ho Chi Minh. Damn, covid.

April 18. That crazy border-crossing from Saigon to Phnom Penh a year ago. That was fulfilling. Damn, covid.

April 19. A year ago, I was experiencing sunrise at Angkor Wat. Wander-fucking-lust UGH. 

April 30. That Town Hall shoutout from our company’s President because of reaching my quota from last month. That really felt good. As much as I hate to admit it, I like being validated from time to time. It definitely meant a lot especially coming from her who took a chance on me. I was patting my back.

MAY. Endure. Let Go. 

May 14. KING TONY WON. Very well-deserved win. A disappointment of a season if you ask me, but props to the king for dominating an all-winners season. Respect for that. Also Natalie and Michele played great games as well and they should be very proud of themselves. I feel like a proud father to these winners HAHAHA!

May 16. Was pleasantly surprised with Dead to Me. That car scene between Jen and Judy on that ninth episode from the second season? Damn. That’s one of the few moments I teared up because of a TV show. That was powerful. All that tension building up and then that sudden release? I really felt that.

May 26. Why do I always feel all this fucking rage inside of me? I try to think of any triggers but I can’t seem to find one that’s actually reasonable. It’s like the isolation getting the best of me. I initially thought quarantine’s going to be a cakewalk for an introvert like myself, but it wasn’t the case. I feel like I’m losing my shit because I was stripped off of the usual things I have access to whenever I feel uneasy and anxious and angry like this. Endure, let go, I know. But it’s so much easier said than done, right?

JUNE. Breathe.

June 12. So the plan to sell the condo and find a new place is real. We went to this great place in Valenzuela and it was a great house and all but I felt weird. Maybe I was having trouble letting go? Maybe it’s just me being averse to change yet again?

June 15. Slept 6am for that How To Get Away With Murder series finale. That speech. VIOLA. Chills all over my body. 

June 18. New phone was delivered. That was fast.

June 27. First time visiting the village we moved to. We were checking a different house this time and was already picturing us living there. Still felt weird, but maybe less.

Looking at it now, I realize almost nothing happened in this stretch of months. Pathetic.

JULY. Change (that’s not necessarily good lol)

July 3. The Anti-Terrorism Bill signed. FUCK THE CIRCUS THAT IS THE PHILIPPINE GOVERNMENT. 

July 10. Doomsday. The ABS-CBN renewal disapproved. FUCK THE CIRCUS THAT IS THE PHILIPPINE GOVERNMENT. Also, that first house we checked was bought this day. First heartbreak.

July 22. Decided to donate to one of my elementary teachers to help finance school supplies for his students in the province. That felt good. 

July 24. folklore’s goooood. This is the Taylor Swift sound that I love. (I had to write that down because that was a 2020 highlight to be honest)

AUGUST. Getting older. Again.

August 2. Donated to another cause: to help a really close friend’s mom (who’s a school principal) on financing their students’ lesson modules (they needed more paper so the donation was going to be used to buy more paper). That felt good.

August 3. Started obsessing on Dear Evan Hansen. I mean come on. HOW COME I ONLY KNEW OF THIS NOW?!?! The story, the acting, the soundtrack... it felt like I asked the Lord for a musical for me and he gave this on a silver platter. 

August 9. Lasagna, baked sushi, lechon belly, pansit, cake. Weird combination, I know, but that’s me!

August 11. Discovered the Slowly app. Changed my life since then! I’m not even exaggerating. I guess it has to do with feeling extremely lonely amid the pandemic and getting this platform where you can talk to literally anyone while still keeping your anonymity. And it strips you off of instant gratification you’re so used to because you actually have to wait for your letters to be sent and to arrive. A great exercise for patience if you ask me! And since you have to wait, you make your letters longer and more worthwhile. It’s a platform free of judgment which relies heavily on building actual mental and emotional connections. It’s a gift, truly. NOT EXAGGERATING; YES I’M THAT LONELY.

August 23. The house search continued. This time, the South!

August 24. It was my first time watching a Korean drama and I gotta say I get the hype now. Korea makes great stories and they take their time when telling these stories. The story centering about mental health was definitely what got me to try watching It’s Okay to Not Be Okay, but the show’s so much more than that. That was a great watch.

SEPTEMBER. Finally some light?

September 1. Second year anniversary. I still really miss her.

September 5. My cat’s 5th birthday! Of course we had to celebrate for her with baked macaroni and burnt cheesecake. 

September 11. Lost uncle. He gave a good fight. 

September 19. SENSE8. It’s a show that doesn’t need any explaining. It’s the BEST. I love this cast SO MUCH. I remember thinking if I ever get a tattoo (which is unlikely), I’ll maybe have the title of that Sense8 series finale inked on me. AMOR VINCIT OMNIA. Love conquers all. 

September 27. After a series of unfortunate events, we were led to this house on the same village we keep going back to, and the moment we saw it, we were sold. This is going to be our house. And it happened.

OCTOBER. Surprises?

October 6. Hooked up with someone I probably shouldn’t.

October 12. Booked a trip for next year because I’M HOPEFUL AS FUCK.

October 21. Had the best conversation I had in a long time. 

October 22. Hooked up with someone I probably shouldn’t. 

October 28. Organized a digital event for work. I’m still on the fence whether I’m proud of it or not. It was my first event, and I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. While I enjoyed all the preparation that came with it, from making that tactical marketing plan to coordinating with the organizers and my team, I felt like it was bland. There were lapses here and there and I know that we all tried the best we could, but maybe I just pictured it a little better in my mind? It wasn’t a flawless event and maybe I wanted it to be flawless. But it was fun. I never would’ve imagined me hosting an event, but I did. 

NOVEMBER. Decisions.

November 14. So news came and we’re finally moving. The buyer of the condo got approved and it was only a matter of weeks to settle documents and payment and we’re good to go. I had mixed feelings about it. It took me back to that time we started looking for houses. I wasn’t exactly ready to let go of the place I grew with for the past five years. And I wasn’t also ready to let go of the convenience, and the relationships I only have started building with friends I found along the way. But at that moment I knew I had to be happy because they were happy. My family was happy. I knew I have to be happy.

November 21. Started all the packing. Packing meant decluttering and reminiscing, so letting go of more things which was overwhelming at first, but inevitable. 

November 23. I had something checked in the hospital, and something happened and it wasn’t supposed to go that way but it did and it was so fucking bizarre lol

November 28. HAPPY MOVING DAY. It’s that day of the year. Stress was off the charts because of the time constraint and frankly, the lack of preparedness. Good thing a few people helped us with the rest of the packing. It was an impossible task for me and my sister alone so we were glad we got all the help we needed. I did most of the heavy lifting, so I had bruises all over my body for weeks, but after all was said and done, it felt surreal. Felt like everything coming full circle. That first night in the new home? I’ll never forget that. That was special.

December. The end of an era.

December 2. I went back to the condo to stay for a few more days. Get to feel the place one last time. Also lost a huge deal at work to a competitor. I usually really get depressed with these losses, but for some reason I felt indifferent about it. I guess it was my mind telling me I’ve mentally checked out of work already? That maybe it is really time to move on to something that’ll make me care about what I do again? Make me feel again?

December 4. Met someone (who we can call the Professor) I’ve been talking to for a while now. We’ve had some really great conversations leading to this night; talks at 3AM that’s kind of liberating? I was upfront about the moving and that I only have a few days left in the place which is probably why it happened. Professor was also upfront about leaving the country in a few months for an opportunity to work and do research in Japan for five fucking years. It was awkward at first; but we eventually warmed up to each other and spent the night together. 

December 5. Things escalated pretty quickly. The Professor gave me a shower (that was weird but I was feeling it and I thought it was sweet and sexy?). We cuddled until we slept and there was breakfast prepared when I woke up. I don’t usually get to experience this kind of stuff so I really appreciated that. I was feeling it. I thought I can get used to this! I left the place and was invited back again so I stayed over for another night. We’ve had a few more interesting conversations. I was not expecting some of the things we discussed especially the talk about long-distance relationships. The Professor asked me what I think about it and I was honest; I’m not against it but it’s not something I’ll take a chance on if I wasn’t sure about it. Mantra’s always been connection first before commitment. I’m not the “take a leap of faith” kind-of guy; I needed to be sure. Or at the very least be really mentally and emotionally connected with the person. I thought that made perfect sense. I still do.

December 6. So it was finally goodbye. Me and my sister went to the nearest church to donate a few clothes and shoes and to attend a mass. Bid farewell to the Professor too and promised each other to keep in touch. I also had an awkward encounter with my sister’s “friend” who she sneaked in the condo for God knows what for. Pretty sure they did the nasty.

December 13. We went to our old house (the one I spent my younger years in) to get a few stuff for the new house. I only really wanted to get my old bicycle because I want to be biking regularly for the next year. I want to take that fitness journey seriously! So I got the bike and I got to spend some time with some childhood friends. Good stuff.

December 15. A teammate resigned at work. The funny thing is he did it after getting that 13th month bonus HAHAHA! I can’t blame him though after learning about the salary he gets when he’s performing three functions in the team. That’s insane. But it really made me wonder: am I still in this for the long haul? Or do I move on too?

December 17. So I had my work desk and wardrobe delivered. Felt so nice buying things for my room! 

December 19. We got a new dog! Another French Bulldog. He’s pretty sweet. Someone’s not happy! (MY MOM)

December 22. And then this happened. We were supposed to meet after my dentist appointment (which I only used as an excuse to meet and I thought that was obvious) but the Professor never showed up. I waited for FIVE FREAKIN HOURS. I had like clothes with me because we agreed I sleepover but FUCK. Good thing a friend kept me company, but that was horrible. I thought YOU NEVER DO THAT TO ANYONE. I deserve better.

December 24. We had our house blessed. It was all super spontaneous; we invited a few friends and relatives over and had an intimate gathering. Mom got emotional (AGAIN).

December 27. So Ms. Preggy (from February - oooh that rhymed) had her son baptized. Since she lives a little father from the city, we decided to have a little staycation with some friends there too. The-Now-Bestie and Work Son was there, and we had beer and homecooked food and a slew of great conversations to cap off the year. 

Also December 27. I knew I needed to get something off my chest. And I just had to say it. 

“You’re so unfair. You shouldn’t have done that. Gave me false hopes. Gave me a “3-day trial period” only to disappear without any warning. Made promises you never intended to keep. You could’ve just told me you’re not interested anymore and I would’ve been fine with that but instead, you ghosted me. For the past few weeks since that weekend, it never seemed like you wanted to get to know me better. Or even just keep the communication going. It’s been one-sided and I wonder: has it always been this way? Maybe I’m remembering things differently. I told you I like you and I meant that. I’m still wrapping around my head why and how it happened to be honest. Maybe it’s that weekend? Maybe it’s the conversations leading up to when we first met? I don’t know. But things changed after that and I should ask you for an explanation but it’s really not the point. The point is I thought we can work something out and you hurt me. You may feel like you’re running out of time because of Japan but it’s no excuse to do that to anyone, really. You seem so sure about what you want so I hope you get whatever that is. Merry Christmas. Thanks for the memories.”

That was intense.

December 28. The Professor responded. “I apologize... I am getting attached... I had to “ponder on its implications to me in the long run”... I decided to slow down... It hurts... “That weekend that we met felt like I knew you before”... I am afraid... “You have no idea how hard it is to leave everything behind every 4-5 fucking years not because I wanted it but because I have to”... I still hope to continue whatever we have... “I will always remember you. Please don’t forget about me.”... YADA YADA YADA. 

I know. You know me. I try to empathize as much as possible. But I mean, come on. These are things I already know. It’s not what I needed to hear.

December 31. I needed to say something one last time. There’s already a lot of uncertainties in the world with COVID and life and everything else. I knew I needed answers; I want the binary. I want the black or white for this one. I’m not taking the gray with me next year. So I asked the following questions:

“What do you want from me? Do you want to be friends? Or we stick with occasional catching up on Viber every once in a while (because that’s what it sounds like to me)?”

“What do you want to get from your last two months here? What are you looking for? Just make the most “fun’? Or look for something that will stick?”

“Have you told me anything you really didn’t mean?”

“That one time we talked about long-distance, were you asking me?”

Fast forward to now: I never got the answer I needed. I guess this is one of those rare occasions where no answer is the answer. And after a few weeks of contemplating about it, I am leaving it behind in 2020. 

I’m actually at peace with that.

So there you have it. The suck-fest that is 2020. The first month of the new year wasn’t so bad. I feel this great energy. This year’s going to be different. I did tell you that this letter’s perfect timing. That’s because I’ve resigned and I’m moving on. A friend told me a while ago that he’s proud of me for finally taking action. The 2018 version of myself wouldn’t have done what I did and he was happy for me. I wanted a clean slate and I took it. That I was finally taking ownership of my life. 

I was elated. My friend usually spoils me with compliments and encouragement and my ever reliable negative self-image tend to disagree with him but for the first time in a very long time, it felt right. I’m not usually excited for New Years, but I guess I am?

I say bring it on, 2021.

Until then,

Patheticwithanem

[artificialqueens]

Different People (Different Arguments), 1/14 (Branjie/Jankie) - Ortega

a/n: once upon a time there was an author named Ortega who wrote war and fucking peace of a the thick of it au called Just the Game We’re In. she finished it and was proud of it and everything was fine. then suddenly, it turned out one of the main characters was…well, we’ll park that. so Ortega then decided to rewrite it with different girls, a few different details, and a different title. and it’s called Different People (Different Arguments)! and chapter one is here now for u all to enjoy (i hope).

(ps. no i’ve not forgotten about strictly au)

fic summary: Brooke Lynn is a political advisor for a government department where she has to contend with an incompetent Minister, maintaining her stone-cold bitch image, working alongside a press team of slackers, and the Prime Minister’s ever-so-slightly terrifying enforcer breathing down her neck 24/7. So when a familiar face from her past arrives as her new boss, she’s not exactly thrilled to add another problem to her ever-growing pile.

And then she admits she’s got a crush on her coworker.

In this chapter: A standard working day is turned on its head when Brooke has to play a role in engineering Cabinet Minister Darienne Lake’s resignation.

***

High heels. The definitive sound of Brooke’s job. Day in, day out the click-clack, click-clack sound would echo through the offices, closely followed by the constantly ringing phones and the tap-tap-tap of keyboards. Often there was also shouting, the volume of which was never helped by the design of the building which allowed every whisper to be amplified by around a million decibels and broadcast into the lobby.

Brooke hated the new building. She’d hated the idea of moving into it, insisting it would reflect badly on their party and cost them in the polls.

“What kind of message is it going to send out?” she’d rolled her eyes, tearing her hands through her hair. “If we’re trying to tell the public we’re still in touch with them and understand their fears of another recession it doesn’t exactly help moving into what looks like Aquaman’s secret fucking lair.”

She had been ignored, of course, as the decision had already been made. Brooke often wondered what the point of being a political advisor was if nobody ever actually listened to your advice, especially since the person you were supposed to be giving advice to seemed to be blundering about the world of politics like a headless chicken. Darienne Lake had been head of the Department for Social Affairs and Citizenship (Dosac for short) for quite some time now. Too long, Brooke thought. It was harrowing working for a woman who was clearly in the wrong profession, watching her get slammed by the media almost daily as a result of the latest crackpot policy she’d dreamed up. Brooke could’ve left the department a long time ago, should’ve left a long time ago. But she didn’t.

Politics was all about climbing the ladder and making connections. It was a game of chess, and over the years Brooke had seen many people make the wrong move both in and out of the public eye and subsequently watched them get disposed of. She’d seen people cross to the other side, watched both her own party and the opposition divide and conquer. It was all extremely black and white. The party line was a tightrope you had to walk. If you stepped out of line, you fell off the tightrope. If you weren’t up to date on what the line was, the tightrope got cut.  

Brooke could appreciate it wouldn’t sound hugely appealing to someone who didn’t live, breathe, eat, sleep and shit politics. However, this was her world. It had been her world since she’d started watching the news when she was six years old and heard her family talk about the politicians on the screen, and her need to be within the political realm only intensified when she left school and went to uni to study politics and economics, her drive and determination ensuring she graduated with a first class degree. Something that never got old to Brooke were people’s reactions when they discovered she wasn’t some dyed blonde lobotomy job who’d slept her way up the ladder. She wanted to keep giving people that shock day after day, and if that meant staying and advising an under-qualified, over-privileged cabinet Minister, then she could grit her teeth and bear it.

The echoey click-clack of Brooke’s heels provided a soundtrack as she briskly made her way across the black tiles of the department building’s lobby and pressed one red acrylic nail to the button of the lift, the doors sliding open almost instantly. As she stepped inside, quickly checking her reflection in the mirror, there was the frenzied sound of heels on tiles and a panicked yelling.

“Hold the lift!”

Smiling to herself, Brooke held the doors open as a small, pint-sized blonde ball of energy hurtled through them. Catching her breath and smoothing down her white shift dress, she shot her friend a quick smile.

“Morning, girl!”

“Hey, Jan. Great timing,” Brooke smirked as her friend fixed her windswept hair in the mirror.

If you’d ever asked Brooke if she could’ve seen herself becoming best friends with a previous member of the opposition she would have laughed in your face, but Jan was an exception. She had crossed the floor three months ago, finding a job as one of Darienne’s junior policy advisors after she became disillusioned with the ruthless ideals of the opposition. From what Brooke had heard, the offices of Nicky Doll’s party had been a little cliquey and Jan had wanted to spread her wings. Understandably, Brooke had been suspicious of her at first but Jan had been persistently kind and sweet to her to the point where Brooke basically blinked and they were friends as well as colleagues.

“What’s on the Minister’s agenda today then?” Brooke laughed humourlessly, leaning against the lift’s cool metal wall. “Are we demanding the extension of all buses by 30 centimetres? Bringing back the ha’penny? Outlawing kids?”

Jan threw her head back and laughed. “No, although all very possible Darienne ideas. We’ve to sort the public transport data before 5pm. That’s the only real pressing thing we have to do today.”

Brooke felt uneasy. The prospect of 24 hours that didn’t seem like being strapped to a bullet train speeding through fire seemed too good to be true. Something was always going wrong at Dosac and the fact that the only important thing they had to do with their day was to type some figures into an excel spreadsheet was suspicious.

“How was your weekend anyway?” Jan asked, smiling kindly.

Brooke thought back to the previous two days which were spent holed up in her studio flat eating instant noodles and working her way through expenses forms which the Minister should have been doing herself.

“Oh, you know…just a quiet one,” she gave Jan a small smile, which she returned.

The elevator doors opened and Brooke and Jan made their way to their desks. They were stopped in their tracks by a tiny, olive-skinned woman with flowing dark locks of hair babbling away at them at about a mile a minute. Smirking, Brooke shared an affectionate glance with Jan.

“And good morning to you too, human megaphone,” Brooke smiled, lazily throwing her jacket over her desk as the girl rolled her eyes.

“Brooke Lynn! This is serious shit. It would help if you made it into fuckin’ work on time,” she snapped back, pacing back and forth in her heels with worry.

“Relax, Vanessa. We were only a minute off, Darienne’s not going to be in for another fifteen,” Jan smiled lazily, kicking her heels off as she lounged in the wheely chair behind her desk. “Anyway, what’s the panic? It’s a chill day.”

There was one second of almost-silence as the clicks of computer mouses and the whirr of monitors were the only sounds in the room. Then, Vanessa’s eyes widened in horror. Brooke’s stomach dropped as she met Jan’s eyes- she’d known the prospect of a quiet day had been a veritable pipe dream.

“A chill…shit, you guys didn’t get the briefing that Nina sent out? Oh Christ, what am I doin’ even asking that.”

“Are my ears burning?” came a sleepy voice from down the hall. A figure emerged bundled up in countless scarves and woollen cardigans, her blonde frizzy curls only just visible through the layers of clothing. Her manicured fingernails were curled around a Starbucks cup, which she was clinging to for dear life.

“Morning, Nina! Great timing!” Vanessa greeted her sarcastically.

“Ignore her, girl. She hasn’t had her morning shot of Sambuca yet,” Jan drawled, smiling at the human game of pass the parcel who was currently detangling herself from her mummification of knitted clothing. Nina was Dosac’s press secretary who was kind and easy-going but also did the bare minimum, as her determination started and ended at getting home to her wife Monét and the latest episode of EastEnders every day. The girls all both loved her and were vexed by her in equal measures as it was often near to impossible to get any information from her or through her. But Brooke had to admit she did make a good cup of tea.

“Nina. Is there a reason why these bitches haven’t been briefed on Darienne’s interview with Raja Gemini today?” asked Vanessa.

Brooke threw her head back and groaned. Oh, fuck. This was bad news. Raja was one of the fiercest bitches in the media, a BBC journalist who was almost impossible to influence with spin. Fixing Nina with a stony glare, she was irritated even more when she simply shrugged.

“Vanessa, that email was sent to me at four minutes past five yesterday evening and you know fine well that the moment it hits five o’clock my out of office is on and my work phone is off,” Nina raised her eyebrows, curling her Bluetooth headset round her ear as she logged into her computer.

“Christ. So the Minister has a Gemini interview and we’ve got no idea what it’s meant to be covering,” Brooke massaged her temples slowly.

“Well, I’ll tell you what it’s about. She’s runnin’ with the mobile phone policy,” Vanessa sighed, nodding fiercely as both Brooke and Jan cried out in disbelief.

“Absolutely not. I thought we’d convinced her that it was a non-starter?!” Jan exclaimed, her tone nothing short of outraged.

“Apparently she’s feelin’ the pressure of the opposition as a result of Nicky pushing to cut down on Co2 emissions, so she wants to bring out a policy that goes hand in hand with that so the government can look good.”

“That doesn’t even make any fucking sense! God, Nicky could sneeze and she’d be ‘feeling the pressure’. Sometimes it’s like this department’s being run by a startled cat,” Jan sighed, pushing her blow-dried waves of hair away from her face with her hand.

“Yeah, I always think watching her decision-making process is like watching an enormous baby trying to do calculus,” Brooke piped up, humour masking the genuine, real fear that this disastrous policy was about to go live. Its basic premise was to fine people who used their phones while they walked, to avoid collisions between pedestrians on the streets and therefore reduce waiting times at Accident and Emergency as there were less injuries. It was absolutely insane, but then this was a typical Darienne Lake policy. Vanessa had once told Brooke that she often genuinely wondered if someone was sneaking cocaine into Darienne’s pasta salads.

Obviously suffering from a rare pang of guilt, Vanessa sighed as she leant against Jan’s desk. “I don’t know. I think sometimes this party’s way too harsh on her. And the press.”

“Can you blame them?!” Brooke snorted derisively. “It sucks, but if you’re a woman in politics and you go out in dresses that look like someone put stick-on diamantes onto a burlap sack mid-seizure, of course Hello magazine are going to have a field day.”

“Come on, Brooke Lynn, you gotta admit that she’s a very nice woman,” Vanessa shook her head, laughing only slightly.

“Being a very nice woman doesn’t make you a good politician, though,” Jan chipped in with a grimace.

“So you’re going to follow her when she eventually goes then, Vanessa?” Nina piped up from behind her monitor, her eyebrows raised high into her blonde curls. Vanessa bit her lip.

“…well. I still want some form of career, let’s not take it too far.”

The three girls laughed as Vanessa blushed pink. Vanessa’s loyalty to Darienne didn’t stretch all that far. When Darienne had entered the job last year it had also meant she had arrived as Darienne’s senior advisor. It had quickly become clear to Brooke that Vanessa had got to where she was by telling people what they wanted to hear, smiling and nodding at every turn as Darienne drove the department into one dead end after another. Brooke admired Vanessa’s craftiness; her method of going along with whatever Darienne wanted meant that whenever the time came to blame someone Darienne never looked her way. Of course, Vanessa secretly hated basically every idea that Darienne had and quickly grew to trust Brooke (and eventually Jan when she joined the party) as somebody she could share her true feelings with. Over her time as part of Dosac the three girls had become great friends, forming a sort of secret alliance of common sense against Darienne’s crazy politics. She didn’t look in any way like a traditional government advisor, but Brooke still thought she was amazing.

At her job, that is.

“Face it, V,” Jan smiled sleepily, giving a stretch as Brooke shook herself out of her daydream. “Everyone’s running from Darienne like…ugh, I’m crap at one-liners at this time of the morning. Brooke, help me out?”

“Like she runs from Weight Watchers? Like obesity runs in her family? Like McDonald’s employees run whenever she steps foot in the building? Come on, Jan, that one was easy.”

“Guys, c’mon! That’s both way harsh an’ fatphobic as shit. Check yourself,” Vanessa chastised her friends, shaking her head. Jan pulled a guilty face and made a helpless gesture.

“All I’m saying is that Darienne Lake is sinking like the Titanic, if the Titanic was on fire and made entirely of burning shit, and we’re going to be playing the violins if we don’t start distancing ourselves from her as soon as we can,” she yawned.

“Does shit float or sink?” pondered Brooke as she chewed a pen.

“That’s not really the point here,” Jan rolled her eyes.

“Look, I don’ give a shit about burlap sacks, or burnin’ shit, or spitroasting or whatever the fuck you guys are talking ‘bout, I just think she’s gonna notice if we start lookin’ like we’re about to jump ship!” Vanessa cried, flustered.

Jan and Brooke shared a concerned look.

“I didn’t say anything about spitroasting. Do you even know what spitroasting is?” Brooke laughed uproariously. Jan and Nina giggled as Vanessa shot Brooke a displeased glare.

“No. It don’t sound very classy,” she sniffed, scrolling through her phone nonchalantly. As the laughter died down, Nina sighed from her desk.

“Even if she does notice, it won’t be an issue. I heard Bianca’s sorting her departure.”

The three girls gave Nina equally shocked glances, their jaws slack at this bomb of information coming from someone who was usually so little help.

“You…heard something? You have working ears? You have a working set of five senses?” Brooke teased her, gobsmacked but also a little excited at the prospect of getting someone competent in to run the department.

“Hey, I am actually of some use sometimes! Akeria over at Richmond Terrace told me at our last meeting.”

All at once, Brooke deflated in her seat. “Right, so what you really mean is…a senior press officer for the opposition told you that Bianca was planning to get rid of Darienne, knowing she’d eventually find out and making sure she’d become rattled so that Nicky would be able to capitalize on the fact that she’d be acting more like a bat on Ritalin than normal.”

Seeing Nina’s peeved expression, Jan piped up. “I’m sure there’s some element of truth in it, Brooke. I mean, Akeria’s not exactly party loyal, she’s just a civil servant.”

Brooke gave a little exhale. Jan was kind to the point of frustrating sometimes. “Well, if what Nina is saying is a fact-”

“Excuse me, I’m not Beedle the fucking Bard!” Nina cut in, resembling a meerkat as her head popped over the top of her monitor.

“- then maybe we should start distancing ourselves,” Brooke finished, shooting Nina an irked look, annoyed at having been interrupted. She noticed that Vanessa was giving her a confused sort of glance.

“How? How do we create distance when we’re advising the bitch?” she stammered, clearly becoming nervous at the prospect of a minor coup. Brooke laughed. These were the situations where Vanessa’s inexperience showed and, although it was sometimes tedious having to hold her hand through such conditions, it was also ever so slightly endearing.

“Don’t panic, ‘Ness, it’ll be fine. Bianca will have it taken care of,” she smiled, trying her best to reassure her friend.

Casting her eye to the clock, Jan narrowed her eyes. “V, you should probably head downstairs and meet the Minister. Her car’s going to be pulling up in, like, a minute.”

Cursing, Vanessa trotted towards the lifts as fast as her high heels could carry her. Brooke watched as she left, then exhaled loudly as she switched her computer on. Trying her best to relax, she cast her eye over the office. Apart from one glass-fronted room at the far end which belonged to Darienne, the majority of it was open plan. It was mostly filled with identical IKEA desks which were all the same shade of creamy grey and topped with piles and piles of work. Vanessa’s desk was messy with post-it notes plastered all round the screen of her monitor, encroaching on top of the piles of folders and ringbinders like some kind of horrific, neon disease. Brooke’s own was a sort of middle ground- most things were ordered but the nature of the job meant that sometimes a chaos of papers, files and briefing notes would sometimes hurricane itself across her desk. A stark contrast to the other two, Jan’s desk was like a beacon of order and tidiness in the hectic office. Everything had its place, her folders were all stored neatly and were colour-coded, and a packet of disinfectant wipes sat just beside the screen of her monitor. Their desks represented the three of them quite well.

Over to her left beside the lifts sat the cluster of desks which housed the communications team. Nina sat at its helm, situated near the desks of the advisors. To the right of Nina’s desk sat the two senior press officers, Scarlet and Yvie, and to Nina’s left were the two junior press officers, Jaida (who Brooke often thought to be far more competent than Nina and often prayed the two would somehow find themselves in some form of Freaky Friday body swap) and Adore, whose chair was empty. Brooke rolled her eyes hard- Adore had started as a civil service intern and Darienne had ended up keeping her on permanently. It had been another one of her diabolical decisions as Adore was ever so slightly scatterbrained, preferred scrolling her socials to tackling any of the pile of incomplete work the size of Kilimanjaro on her desk, and devoted around 90% of her day to making cups of tea. As a person she was great fun and brought a certain element of life to the office when everyone was down, but as someone Brooke had to work with she was a challenge. There had been many times where Brooke had fleetingly thought of pushing over the pile of folders on her desk one day and killing her, doing the department a great service.  

Before Brooke could even open her emails, Darienne was marching through the department with Vanessa following behind her holding two large, red briefcases.

“Morning, morning!” she sing-songed as she made her way into her office. “Meeting in ten, yes ladies?”

Brooke shrugged half-heartedly in response, scrolling through her emails with disinterest. As she watched Darienne swing her office door shut she let out a huge, bored sigh.

There was suddenly a flurry of activity as the sound of approaching footsteps thundered along the corridor. Soon enough, a small girl with wide eyes, cheeks flushed pink and blonde hair with black roots appeared and flung herself down into the empty desk beside Jaida. Getting herself comfy, she kicked her heeled boots off and fired up her computer. Adore had arrived.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, ain’t anyone able to get to work on time?!” Vanessa hissed, exasperated and trying desperately to mask the fact that Adore had only just arrived at the office. Sipping on the coffee that was no doubt in her porcelain keep cup, Adore shot her a slack-jawed smile as the other press officers looked up from their work.

“Hey, I was working, thank you very much! I was doing important party business before I got here.”

“What kind of important party business?” asked Yvie, her interest piqued at the thought of Adore voluntarily doing any work.

“Laila McQueen,” Adore beamed, taking another big, loud sip. Jan laughed as Brooke rolled her eyes so hard they threatened to fall out her sockets. “Hey, it just means we have The Independent on our side for the next couple of days!”

“Good work, girl. You’re like a broadsheet Julia Roberts. I didn’t know Bianca had started pimping people out,” Scarlet shot Adore a sarcastic grin and received a tight-lipped smile and one middle finger in response which made her snort a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, very good, Adore, real impressive. That’s your one minute of glory up. You think you could go and get us some tea? And maybe some pastries, Darienne’ll probably be hungry,” Vanessa ordered, Adore pouting and lazily rising from her desk.

“Probably? It’s not like there’s an element of doubt to it,” Brooke snorted a laugh. “Get her a cinnamon roll the size of a fucking Swiss cheese, that should do her fine.”

Five minutes later, Brooke found herself sipping a subpar cup of tea in Darienne’s office, craving the sweet embrace of death as she listened to her witter on about how Raja Gemini wasn’t that intimidating, and that contrary to popular belief she was able to hold her own against the big journalists. Jan was attempting to talk her down from the ledge of misplaced confidence she had seemed to have clambered up to, Vanessa was doing her best impersonation of a nodding dog, and Nina was sleepily casting her eyes between Darienne and Jan as they spoke, her notebook blank.

“Do you have a strong opening line?” Jan asked the Minister nervously, prodding at her lip with nerves. Darienne smiled smugly, leaning back and relaxing in her chair.

“Once we implement these fines, the waiting times at A&E will be shorter than the waiting times at McDonalds. Ambulances will practically start operating drive thrus!” she reeled off, grinning proudly at the line she’d clearly spent hours thinking up. Stifling laughter, Brooke watched the reactions of the other girls. Nina’s pen hovered above her notebook hesitantly as if she couldn’t quite believe she had to write the drivel down, and Vanessa and Jan were staring at each other, wide-eyed with incredulity.

“Jesus. I’ve seen stronger newborn children,” Brooke sighed as she leant forward and sat her cup of tea on Darienne’s desk, too disgusted to attempt to drink any more.  “That cup of tea was stronger than that opening line.”

“Hey! I spent all night thinking that up,” Darienne cried, offended. Jan furrowed her brow.

“Honestly Darienne, it does kind of sound like you pulled it out of your ass.”

“Speaking of assholes, Bianca’s in the building,” Nina spoke up, checking her phone. The mood in the room suddenly plummeted.

Everyone was afraid of Bianca. The only separating factor was just how afraid they were of Bianca. She was the prime Minister’s enforcer and spin doctor, the lady who made it clear to everyone in government that they had to know the line and toe the line, often spinning the party out of crises like a terrifying dreidel. She had no time for time wasters, bluffers, blue-sky thinkers, or people who weren’t one hundred percent capable of doing their job, and often unleashed hell on those that weren’t. Brooke was a big girl, she could handle herself, but there was still something about the authority that Bianca radiated and how intimidating she was that made her just that little bit nervous. She knew she had an easy-going side, but Brooke hadn’t seen it often.

“She looking for us?” Vanessa asked nervously.

“No, I’m sure she’s walking around the department trying to get her steps in for the day. What do you think?!” Nina hissed back, glaring momentarily at Vanessa then back to her phone. “Any second now…”

“Good morning, Bianca,” Jan greeted as a woman strode confidently into the office on six-inch Louboutins. Despite the fact her caramel waves of hair had a slight haze of frizz from the drizzle outside she was otherwise perfectly put-together, wearing a matching black suit jacket and pencil skirt combo. Her makeup was bright like the patterns on a poisonous frog and her lips were painted with bright red lipstick. Or perhaps that was just the blood of another poor cabinet Minister.

“Yes, good morning, and I’m hoping it’s going to be a good fucking morning, because this one-” she trained a single black fake nail on Darienne’s face “-is fully prepped for her Gemini interview at 12, correct?”

“Don’t worry Bianca. I was up all night,” Darienne gave her a saccharine sweet smile, which Bianca turned her nose up at.

“So you’re fully aware she thinks it’s an utterly fucking horrible idea?” Bianca tilted her head very slightly.

“She’s not the only one,” Jan muttered, just loud enough for Brooke to hear.

Darienne looked somewhat put out, her face falling. Sighing, Brooke looked to the ceiling. Vanessa was right- the Minister was a nice lady, but how in the hell could she think that policy was anything less than an utter car crash?! Brooke began to allow herself to daydream, which admittedly was always a risk in Bianca’s presence, but already this day was like a huge, massive wave towering over them all before a tsunami and she needed to disconnect. She was aware of Bianca’s voice tearing into Darienne in the background.

“What if she asks you how many police hours this will take up? What are you going to say then?”

“I would simply point her to the amount of money that this policy would generate, which would well make up for the drain on resources-”

“Jesus H Fuck, who did your media training? Myra Hindley? Don’t use the word ‘drain’! Don’t use any words with any negative connotations whatsoever! I don’t want a single word out of place in this interview; otherwise Gemini is going to start analysing it like Gillian McKeith analyses people’s shit.”

Darienne appeared to think things over for a moment. “So can I…I mean…can I use the word no?”

Brooke only just stopped herself from physically slapping her hand to her forehead. Bianca looked incredulously at the faces of the four other girls, each as long-suffering as the last.

“Have I suddenly imagined a storybook character into life? Did a child make a wish on a shooting star last night, is that why fucking Moon-Face is sitting at a desk in front of me? Are the other Faraway Tree friends about to walk in through the door and start running the country?”

Darienne cast her eyes to the floor, the message well and truly received.

“You mentioned the amount of money that this would generate. Is this going to be the saving grace of this policy? Is this going to be the diamond ring within the shit of the dog who accidentally ate it?”

“You’re very faecally focussed today, Bianca,” Jan piped up with a frown as Brooke stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, well. It’s hard not to be when you’re within a 5 mile radius of this department,” she scoffed.

“Well within the first month, we’re looking to generate around…um, Vanessa?” Darienne cast her eyes to the senior advisor, whose gaze shifted to Bianca nervously.  

“Unbelievable. She can’t even retain her own fucking figures. Come on then, Britain’s number fifteen Rihanna impersonator, give me some good fucking news.”

“Uh, we think…well, Darienne thinks…that within the first month of enforcement we could generate around £25,000 in £50 fines.”

Bianca’s face grew very gradually cold, Vanessa freezing to the spot as if she’d just been stared at by Medusa. Even Brooke shivered.

“You mean to tell me,” she began, her voice extremely measured and shaking only slightly. “That out of a population of 64 million people, who normally stumble around the streets with their heads in their phone screens like puppets with their strings cut, we’d be able to fine…500 a month?”

“Well, we deliberately predicted under target so that the actual figure would come as a pleasant surprise!” Darienne smiled back, completely nonplussed at Bianca’s rage.

“If I could interject, I don’t seem to remember there being any ‘we’ about it,” Nina spoke up dryly, before lowering her head back down into her notebook.

“I really love the logic of this department. Maybe you should all become teachers! 50 add 50 equals 25, and when you find out that the real answer is actually 100, well that’s just a fucking pleasant surprise, isn’t it?! The crime stats from the last quarter revealed that there had been 73 murders committed, except- what a nice surprise! There were actually 78, because we forgot to count your five fucking bodies after I ripped them to fucking shreds!”

Brooke had no idea why Darienne was so calm. It was like her brain had been replaced by a huge goldfish bowl. Vanessa, however, looked a little shell-shocked, and Brooke couldn’t help the pang her heart gave as her protective instincts took over.

Only for a moment, though.

“We’ve got time to accumulate some more accurate figures. They wouldn’t be bang on, but definitely a lot more impressive than £25,000, and they’d probably placate Gemini,” Brooke shrugged, sitting up a little straighter in her seat as she addressed Bianca. Casting her frown Brooke’s way, Bianca seemed to calm down very slightly.

“Finally someone in this room that isn’t a massive, walking, talking sac of amniotic fluid. Get it done, okay? I’ll see you all after the interview.”

As Bianca left the room, the other girls all visibly relaxed. Vanessa began rubbing at her shoulder, clearly tense after being momentarily in the firing line. Flustered, Darienne finally spoke.

“Right well, Brooke, if you could sort that out within the hour,” she smiled, as if she was in control in any way. “Jan and Nina, if you could stay with me so that we can smooth out the finer details of this interview, and Vanessa if you could get started on the transport data please.”

“Uh, that ain’t gonna be possible, Minister, ‘cause I got a lot of stuff left over from yesterday an’ I still need to send that email over to Nick at the treasury, an’ uh…” Vanessa suddenly blurted out, clearly still slightly rattled from Bianca’s visit. Brooke screwed her face up. What the fuck was she doing? Darienne looked equally perplexed as Vanessa stammered a correction. “I mean…no, yeah, of course. I’ll get it done as soon as I can.”

As Darienne dismissed them and Brooke and Vanessa marched out of the office, Brooke immediately grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her into the toilets.

“Brooke Lynn! What the hell?!” Vanessa protested, her eyes fiery.

“What the hell was that in the office there?!”

Vanessa knit her brows together. “You told us to start distancing ourselves from her! I was tryin’ my fuckin’ best!”

“Yeah, distancing yourself, not starting a revolution! Am I talking to someone who works in politics or a seventeen year old who just got a D in their Modern Studies A-level?!” Brooke sighed, exasperated. She regretted it immediately when she saw Vanessa’s shoulders slump forward as she did her best impression of a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa muttered, shaking her head slightly. “I just…Bianca kinda panicked me.”

Without thinking, Brooke rested her hand on Vanessa’s arm in an attempt to comfort her. “Look…I know it’s hard for you. I get that you entered politics  as Darienne’s aide and that if she goes, the road ahead is going to be kind of…non-existent. Well, not non-existent, just extremely winding and bumpy and parts of it might not have been built yet. But you’re party loyal, right?”

Vanessa nodded silently. “I’m not a fuckin’ hack. I came into this job so I could help change things for people, except sometimes I just feel like we’re not doing much good.”

“Yeah, well. That’s because the PM is too balls-deep in his secretary to run the country for more than five minutes, but anyway. The point is that you’ll be okay, we’ll all be okay! You, me, Jan. The dream team,” Brooke beamed at her, her heart soaring as Vanessa’s face lit up. “Just keep following whatever Darienne does, but keep your ears open. Any sign of a possible new option, glue yourself to them. Do your best leech impression.”

Vanessa’s face contorted as she took Brooke’s last comment literally, and both of them shared a laugh.

“But don’t panic. Like Jan said, Bianca’s going to sort it. You saw her in there, she’s at the end of her tether with that giant egg we’ve got running the department. We’ll be fine.”

As Vanessa giggled, Brooke found herself blushing very slightly. Stepping forward that little bit more, she wrapped her arms around Vanessa in a gentle hug. She smelt of a very sweet, sugary perfume, and momentarily Brooke found it hard to let go, her heart thudding in her ribcage.

“Thanks, Brooke. You’re a sweetheart,” Vanessa smiled bashfully as she pulled away, sweeping her hair behind her ears. Brooke cast her eyes to the floor, embarrassed by the compliment.

“Come on. We’ve got work to do. You should start doctoring those transport stats for fun.”

Pushing open the door, Vanessa laughed and raised her eyebrows. “I got a C in my Modern Studies A-level anyway, so I don’t appreciate the accusation, ma’am.”

As the two girls made their way back to their desks, Brooke tried to clear her head. The conversation had dredged up a lot of feelings she’d been trying to repress. She didn’t have a crush on Vanessa. She wasn’t attracted to her like that at all. She was just protective of her, and she couldn’t help it if she was cute when she was flustered, or nervous, or happy, or irritated, or doing anything. That was just a fact. It didn’t mean she liked her as anything more than a friend.

Besides, the position of token workplace lesbian couple had already been filled by Scarlet and Yvie.

***

Brooke sighed, her disapproval hidden in the darkness of the news studio along with cameras, a teleprompter, and Vanessa. Why in the name of God was this interview live? It was barbaric to screen a brutal murder on lunchtime TV. Christ, there could be kids watching. Casting her eyes to the ceiling, she knew that Nina could have helped the situation. She could’ve pushed for it to be pre-recorded. But in her head she was already hearing the excuse about Raven at the BBC being “such a nice girl”, and that “she complimented my outfit once at Alyssa’s book launch”, so perhaps there was never any chance of it being anything but live.

As the Minister stammered and stuttered her way through her lines, Brooke wondered how Raja was able to keep such a stony, cold expression. She was essentially watching the complete breakdown of Darienne’s political credibility in front of her, that was surely worth some pity. Contemplating the situation, Brooke supposed that having pity wasn’t really going to do a journalist any favours. Raja had been out at Gaza, for fuck’s sake. She was hardly going to be sympathetic to this human pannacotta sat in front of her, Darienne’s voice wobbling and wavering over every line she spoke as Raja’s eyes bore into her.

Brooke looked briefly to Vanessa, who was just looking at Darienne sadly. Brooke had to feel sorry for her. Vanessa had placed her trust in the Minister to introduce her to the world of politics, a world she clearly wanted to be a part of for all the right reasons, and yet this was the thanks she got. Sitting having to watch her boss pedal horrific policy after horrific policy and watching as her and her colleagues got constantly ignored.

She deserved better.

Momentarily Brooke thought about making a joke, but reasoned that it would probably go down as well as a lead balloon. Instead, she texted Jan, safe from the debris of Darienne’s collapsing career at the office where she, Bianca and the communications team were all watching.    

B: Jesus. I’ve seen ISIS condemned for less than this.

There was a pause as Jan texted back. Brooke tuned back into the interview.

“…shorter than the, um, waiting times at McDonalds. Ambulances will practically start operating drive thrus!”

Brooke audibly groaned. Darienne had obviously inflated her life belt, pulling out her precious line as a last-ditch attempt to save the interview. Raja was less impressed.

“That sounds like an extremely serious comparison, Minister, you’re saying that this policy will simply rush patients through A&E as if they were…a burger? How thorough will doctors and nurses be?”

And there Darienne was again, back to flailing around the interview as if she was drowning.

J: I’ve never seen a human being reduced to actual liquid before. Hope you have a tub to transport her back to the office.

B: How’s Bianca holding up?

A pause.

J: I’ve seen mothers look less disgusted at their own afterbirth.

B: I really hope you haven’t.

***

The first thing Brooke, Darienne and Vanessa were greeted with on their arrival back at the office was Nina, a frown on her face.

“Well I’m glad that interview went so well. We’ve been fending off calls from several papers asking if this policy is, quote, the government’s dying whalesong, and The Sun are planning to run with the headline ‘Would you like dies with that’, in reference to the suggestion that the NHS is about to go down the drain.”

Brooke shook her head in contempt. “Imagine going to university for three years, getting a first in journalism, and then being paid to come up with that crap.”

“Absolutely. I think we should run with the line that these accusations are nonsensical,” Darienne bristled, annoyed that her pride and joy of a policy wasn’t making the impact it was supposed to. Brooke snapped her head round to face the Minister.

“I mean, I don’t think we can cover our backs that easily. You did that interview sounding as if you’d just survived a house fire, I mean why did you include that drive-thru line?!”

“It was an emergency! It was a last ditch attempt, I had to do something!” Darienne barked back, her face set in a frown.

Vanessa butted in. “An emergency line? A line to be used in an emergency? What the hell were the instructions? In case of emergency, break glass by throwin’ yourself through the top floor window of Broadcasting House?!”

The shouting match was stopped abruptly as Jan’s calm drawl trailed through the office. “Brooke, I just got a text from Bianca. She said she wants to see you in her office in five minutes, and if you’re late she’s going to make you stand in the Dosac lobby on a hot day and watch your face fry off.”

A horrified pause. “Her words, not mine.”

Exhaling noisily, Brooke grabbed her bag from where she’d just thrown it down on her desk. She tried to ignore Darienne’s smug smile as she made her way to the lift and a meeting with the most feared woman in politics.

***

Being able to see the inner workings of 10 Downing Street was like the part in The Wizard Of Oz when the curtain gets pulled back to reveal the Wizard as a sham. On the outside, it was the most perfect professional façade, a backdrop for thousands of press announcements, resignations and appointments. On the inside it resembled a prison riot at best, a hive of people running around trying to fix something, or spin something, or frantically complete some piece of unfinished work. It was slightly quieter today, Brooke had noticed, as she sat on a hard, wooden chair outside Bianca’s office.

She’d been there dead on time but Bianca was running ten minutes late so far. Lesser, more idiotic humans would call her out on it, but Brooke had a functioning brain and a desire to stay alive until at least the end of the day. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and curled her lip. She hadn’t a clue why Bianca had called her for a meeting and chose to pass up on the opportunity to berate Darienne about that car crash of an interview. If Bianca was looking for someone to blame, it couldn’t be Brooke. She had been under the impression that Bianca found her tolerable, but you could never really tell what her opinions on anything were. The woman’s poker face was so good she could’ve gone professional in Vegas.

The varnished, wooden door of Bianca’s office suddenly swung open, Bianca standing poised in front of Brooke like a bird of prey.

“You’re late,” she sniffed, as she held the door open for Brooke to come in. Mumbling an apology, Brooke slumped down into the leather-bound chair opposite Bianca’s desk and simply waited for whatever was about to come, looking casually around the room. It was a setting she knew all too well- the marble, white fireplace, the eerie green lamp giving off an abnormal white light on her desk. The nondescript paintings of some long-dead war heroes, the bookcases filled with files and files and files. The entire room screamed power and intimidation.

“Do you want a coffee, Brooke?” Bianca began casually as she sat down opposite her. Perplexed, Brooke shook her head.

“I’m okay…I’d kind of just like to find out why I’m here. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be after Darienne?”

Snorting a laugh, Bianca rose from her chair and moved to perch on the edge of her desk. She was slightly above Brooke’s level, but her tone and general aura were quite relaxed, bordering on informal.

“You were friends with Jaqueline Cox at university, correct?”

Ouch. The memories ripped through Brooke’s mind like a migraine. Jackie Cox, the know-it-all in every seminar. Jackie Cox, the try-hard in every presentation. Jackie Cox, with the smug smile and the glossy dark hair and the perfect matching stationary. She knew Jackie, and Brooke knew enough to know she wasn’t a fan.

“Friends is pushing it. She was on the same course as me and was about as irritating as thrush, and that’s all I really had to do with her,” she sniffed in her own non-committal way. Bianca flared her nostrils and made a face, indicating to Brooke that she’d given a wrong answer.

“Okay, maybe my phrasing was a little off. In case you haven’t noticed, you haven’t stumbled into some friendship bracelet craft class, this is Downing Street. So I’ll rephrase the question. Is she any good?”

Brooke felt momentarily like she was trapped in a lion enclosure. “Is she any good at…?”

“At juggling silicone breast implants and walking a tightrope over a lake of tepid piss. Is she any good at politics?!”

“God, I mean…I guess she’d be a good politician,” Brooke admitted begrudgingly. “She’s principled, she’s got strong morals and a backbone. She’s eloquent enough and nowhere near as big a car crash as that sheep’s placenta we’ve got as a Minister.”

Bianca smiled fleetingly, then stood and walked back to her chair, appeased.

“Perfect,” she said, her eyes boring into Brooke’s as she sat down. Looking momentarily behind her, Brooke shifted in her seat.

“So…why are you asking about Jackie?” she asked slowly, drawing each word out just that little bit too long to be necessary in her hesitation. Bianca smiled slowly in return.

“It came to my attention this afternoon that maybe there needs to be some…changes made around here. My party is being made to look like a laughing stock, and I don’t like it,” she growled, her eyes growing dark. “Darienne’s been palming off her expenses forms onto you, correct?”

Brooke nodded silently.

“Maybe it would be in your best interests…and the party’s best interests…to doctor them slightly. Then if they end up in the hands of the media…so be it. She’s left with no credibility, there’s no coming back from that. She’ll have to resign. Then really all that’s left to do is get a replacement in. Smooth as a bottle of Moët,” Bianca shrugged, leaning back in her chair calmly. Blinking twice, Brooke suddenly became apprehensive.

“Bianca, I can’t…I can’t just fake her expenses claims.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have a note from your Mum? Have you got a cold and you can’t take part in this part of your actual job? You’re surprising me, Brooke,” Bianca sighed, clearly disappointed. “I honestly thought you had something different in you. A spine, a brain. Some form of drive, determination to succeed. You love this party, yes? You came into politics to make a difference, right?”

Brooke flinched slightly. Bianca was hitting her where it hurt, and she knew it was going to get a rise out of her. “Of course. I want us to succeed. I want us to change things.”

Bianca smiled, glad to have received a sufficient reaction.

“Then sometimes things have to be done by any means necessary,” she said gravely, running her tongue along her teeth. “If Jackie accepts the offer, she’ll be the new head of Dosac by tomorrow afternoon.”

Something about the whole appointment of Jackie Cox didn’t sit right with Brooke. She was just an annoying, opinionated, mouthy university girl, and there were ten a penny of those in London. Why her? Why not someone slightly more tolerable?

“Why does it have to be Jackie, why can’t it be someone else?” she voiced what she was thinking, annoyed. Bianca laughed, clearly amused.

“Okay, Miss Political Advisor. Advise me, since I’ve clearly not weighed up all the options.”

Stuck for a moment, Brooke’s brain began racing round at a hundred miles an hour. “Kelly Mantle. The back bencher from Education, she’s good.”

“No. She looks too much like a resident of Whoville to be put in the spotlight. Can you imagine when she inevitably fucks up, what the headlines will be? Who dunnit? Whose fault is it this time? Who, who, who, all over the front pages like owls with tourettes.”

Brooke sighed, then perked up with another idea. “What about Bianca Castro from Health?”

“Who, Jiggly?” Bianca asked, nonplussed.

“…Bianca Castro. She has a good track record, the public would love her-”

“Yeah, Jiggly.”

“Bianca, her name isn’t Jiggly.”

“The media damn well think it is after they got hold of those photos of her at the all-you-can-eat world buffet. Not exactly astounding publicity for a junior health Minister. She’s going nowhere.”

Brooke barely held in a grunt of frustration. “Ongina, that MP for-”

“Her name literally sounds like vagina. PR disaster. Next.”

“Jade Jolie.”

“She couldn’t run a bath, never mind a department.”

“Lashawn, then?!”

Bianca threw her head back and hooted a laugh. “You’re joking, right? Can you imagine her even trying to pronounce some of the names on the immigration database? She stays firmly on the back bench.”

Brooke pouted a little, frustration seeping out of every pore. Seeing her obvious displeasure, Bianca’s tone became placating, the woman’s softer side making a rare appearance.

“Look. Right now, we need strong leaders in this party. Jackie is about as strong as we’re going to get from what I’ve heard, and we need her to steer us out of this ditch that Darienne’s gradually lowered us into. You don’t need to worry about a thing, apart from those expenses forms. I’ll take care of it,” she smiled, reassuring Brooke as she stood and made to leave. Before she reached the door, a thought suddenly struck her like iced lightning, freezing her to the spot.

“Bianca…” Brooke began hesitantly. “Do you think Jackie will come with her own people? I mean, I’m not hugely up to date with her movements, so I don’t know how prepared she’ll be, and I’m fine, I can look after myself, you know? But like, Vanessa…and Jan, of course. Will she…will they get to keep their jobs?”

Bianca’s eyes were instantly on her, searching and wondering about the hidden agenda behind Brooke’s question. “I’ve worked with you for a while, Brooke Lynn. I must say, I’ve never seen you get attached to anyone in this game.”

“Well, you know,” Brooke shrugged, maintaining a cool exterior. “We work well together. We’re a good team. And she’s a valuable member of the department, that’s all.”

“Vanessa or Jan?” Bianca questioned.

“They both are! I just…I just want to make sure they’ll both be fine.”

Bianca moved to the doorway, gently showing her out. “Just doctor those expenses. Try not to pop a blood vein while doing so.”

Sighing, Brooke shook Bianca’s hand and click-clacked her way down the marble hallway towards the famous black door. Not too far along the corridor, she heard Bianca call after her.

“Brooke Lynn!”

She turned around sharply.

“Loyalty gets remembered in this party. Especially by me.”

***

Brooke hit send on her email to Bianca at 5.30pm on the dot. Darienne had claimed for Ubers from here to Downing Street, business lunches at nearby curry houses, and, just for laughs, a helicopter. Brooke had felt a little guilty fabricating it all, but it was impossible not to. If she had a complete lack of morals she’d be working for Nicky’s party, not Darienne’s. However, as Bianca had said, it was for the good of the party that she had to go.

She was still unsure about Jackie though. If everything went smoothly, by this time tomorrow she’d be sitting in Darienne’s office barking orders at her. It would be like every university group project all over again. Brooke had never actively disliked Jackie, she’d just found her grating. She was slightly unique, though. True, there were many girls of her type on her course, argumentative and challenging, but there were few that held their composure so well throughout a debate, maintaining class and superiority the entire time. Maybe that’s why she’d rubbed Brooke the wrong way so violently. Anyway, there had been a good eight years separating her time at uni and her time within the realm of politics. Perhaps Jackie was different now.  

Shutting down her computer, she swivelled her chair round to face the other girls. She’d communicated to everyone through hushed whispers that Bianca’s plan was being put into effect immediately, creating an excited buzz around the office for the last few hours of the day. Regrettably she’d noticed that Vanessa had become more subdued because of it, the girl clearly wondering where this left her career. Brooke wanted nothing more than to see her happy again. She just hadn’t had time to attempt to cheer her up in between the expenses and finishing the transport data.

It looked as if Adore had already left, her chair empty and her bag gone with her half-empty coffee cup on her desk. Nina had long since vanished, her desk clear and any evidence of her ever having been there completely gone. Jaida was clearly in for the long shift, still working steadily through her excel spreadsheet with an energy drink by her keyboard. Jan was pulling on her coat, fixing her hair rapidly, and Scarlet and Yvie looked ready to leave too. Vanessa suddenly appeared in front of her.

“Hey,” she smiled gently. “We’re goin’ for a drink, think we could all do with one after today. You coming?”

Brooke fleetingly thought of a night with the girls, of just having a laugh and being slightly less stressed than normal. The thought of a glass of wine was tempting, but then the immediate thought of work the next day and how chaotic it would be made her decision for her.

“Sorry, ‘Ness. I’m going to head back. Next time though, yeah?” Brooke gave a tight smile, sighing a little when Vanessa’s face grew slightly more disappointed than before. As she nodded understandingly and turned to leave, Brooke suddenly grabbed her hand without really knowing why. Checking the office to see if anyone was looking at them, Vanessa then gazed at Brooke, confused.

“Talk to me. You’re still worried about tomorrow, aren’t you?” Brooke murmured quietly, trying not to draw attention to them. Jan was chatting happily with Scarlet and Yvie was hugging Jaida goodbye, so they were safe for now.

Vanessa’s face was worried. “I just don’t like the uncertainty. I wouldn’t be as worried if it didn’t mean I could get split up from you and Jan. We’re so good together. I don’t wanna lose that.”

Brooke’s heart swelled a little in her chest. “Listen. Don’t make it common knowledge, but I might have had a hand in Bianca’s plan. She kind of hinted that I’d be repaid in some way. We’ll all stay, don’t worry. I trust her.”

Brooke almost breathed a sigh of relief as Vanessa’s shocked face grew into a bright, happy smile. “Fuck, Brooke Lynn, you serious?!”

“Yeah. I got one wish. I sold my soul to the devil. Sue me,” Brooke snorted sarcastically, making Vanessa laugh.

“Wait, what’d you have to do for her?” Vanessa whispered, her eyes excited.

“I had to sleep with her. It was horrendous. She eats pussy like I eat noodles. Slurp slurp slurp.”

Vanessa’s nose wrinkled up as she laughed uproariously, drawing the attention of the other girls to them to Brooke’s dismay. Vanessa looked beautiful when she laughed. Then again, she looked beautiful all the time. That was just a fact, of course.

“Hey, Brooke! You coming out with us or what? Silk and Akeria are joining, ” Yvie yelled over, smiling as she wrapped her arm around Scarlet’s slim waist. Brooke tried her best not to screw her face up- she had a hard time being polite to anyone from the opposition, even if they were only civil service comms officers.

“Nah, she’s being boring,” Vanessa teased, sticking her tongue out.

“Aw, come on, Brooke! You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, ‘specially tequila ones,” Scarlet piped up, giggling and throwing her other arm around Yvie. Brooke smiled at the affectionate couple.

“Yeah, well, like Vanessa said, I’m being boring tonight. You and Yvie take care of those two liver transplants waiting to happen, okay? I can’t quite believe I’m saying it but you need to be the responsible ones.”  

As Scarlet laughed, Yvie and Jan said their goodbyes to Brooke. Vanessa was still hovering at her desk, a small smile on her face as she bent down and hugged Brooke without warning.

“You’re the best member of this whole department, an’ the best damn work friend I could want,” she whispered, her words lighting up Brooke’s heart. Pulling back, she gave a quick glance to the girls who were waiting on the lift to arrive. “I owe you one, bitch. Have a good night. Eat dinner and sleep well, ‘kay?”

Brooke gazed fondly at Vanessa, her tiny frame retreating into the lift. Vanessa cared about her. She cared about everyone. It was part of the reasons why Brooke liked her so much.

In the most platonic way possible, obviously.

***    

Arriving at work the next day, it was clear that Bianca’s plan had worked. Thanks to a few emails to the big papers, Darienne’s false expenses claims were plastered over all the front pages, giving a pretty damning verdict.

“She’s good at leaking, isn’t she? Bianca, I mean,” Nina pondered casually from her desk, causing Brooke to look up from The Times.

“She’s brilliant. She’s like an 85 year old woman that never did pelvic floor exercises,” Scarlet muttered, ignoring the ringing phone.

“Nothing in The Independent about it though, I’ll give you that, Adore. Laila McQueen must’ve been one satisfied customer,” Jan laughed, holding up the front page which was jarringly dissonant with the other headlines, instead focussing on something to do with the polar icecaps melting.

“I’m good! I keep telling you all and you never listen,” Adore winked cheekily, as the phone continued to ring.

“Ain’t someone gonna answer that?!” Vanessa snapped, frustrated. Jaida reached for the receiver hesitantly, looking at Nina to gauge her reaction. Fixing her eagle eyes on her in disapproval, Jaida drew her hand back as if the phone was a hot stove.

“I’ve told them all we’re in a no comment situation,” Nina turned to Vanessa, shrugging. “There’s nothing else we need to say. If those bastards don’t get the meaning of that then quite frankly they shouldn’t be in journalism.”

Brooke stayed quiet throughout the whole exchange. She was worried, fretting about what Darienne would say when she arrived. She knew full well she was going to get the blame, hell, she was to blame. As much as Brooke could pretend to be completely ruthless, the guilt was beginning to seep in. At this point everyone in the department knew it was Brooke who had a hand in fixing the expenses forms and although everyone was being perfectly normal and friendly towards her, she was concerned about what they really thought and what they’d say when she left the room.

She hadn’t even seen Jan come and stand next to her.

“You’re awful quiet today, sweetie,” she drawled, leaning against a set of shelves that contained about twenty thousand government files. “Everything alright?”

Brooke nodded silently, brushing her fringe out of her face. That didn’t appear to satisfy Jan.

“Look, nobody thinks any less of you for what you did. It’s politics, it’s not kid’s TV. Sacrifices have to be made, people have to be disposed of. You did the department a favour, to be honest,” she continued, as if she could read Brooke’s mind. Brooke couldn’t help but smile. Jan had a certain telepathic quality, and often she could begin cheering you up before you even knew what reasons you had to be sad. She was a total ray of sunshine, and her happy-go-lucky personality was welcome in the department today.

“Thanks, girl,” Brooke sighed, stretching out in her chair and giving Jan a tight smile. “That means a lot. You’re a blessing to this department. I mean, God knows the mood in here today’s about as flat as…well. Maybe it’s my turn to not be good at one-liners today.”

Jan laughed softly, leaning back a little more against the files. “I try my best. But hey, I should thank you! Once Darienne goes, I might see about standing as an MP in the next by-election.”

Brooke raised her eyebrows a little. She had no idea that Jan had even had ambitions outside of performing at every available karaoke bar London had to offer. “Really?!”

“Yeah, I’ve kind of been thinking about it for a while.”

Brooke was secretly excited about the prospect of working with just Vanessa. Purely because things would be easier to organise between just two people, and things would just run more smoothly. It wasn’t because she had a crush on her or anything, that would be a ridiculous accusation. Brooke was a professional. There was no scope for things like that in this game.

“Well, I’m sure you’d be amazing. The public would love you,” she smiled at her friend sincerely. Flattered, Jan relaxed completely against the shelves, a giant file careering from the top shelf onto the ground.

“I’ll get it,” Brooke reassured Jan, whose face was apologetic.

“Right, I’m goin’ to fetch Darienne,” Vanessa announced, making her way to the lifts a little nervously. “Smiles an’ happiness when she arrives please, people, try not to make the office feel too much like a wake.”

Yvie tipped her head back over the back of her chair, looking at Vanessa upside-down. “Are we not supposed to be mourning the bitch’s career?”

With a long-suffering shake of her head, Vanessa disappeared into the lift.

Five minutes later, Brooke was picking up the dropped file from behind the shelf when two sets of footsteps thundered through the office and a voice cut through the click-clack, tapping keyboards and ringing phones.

“MEETING ROOM, NOW!”

Slowly, Brooke crept towards Darienne’s office, following a running Nina and Jan. Darienne was standing behind the desk, her face a thunderstorm. As soon as Brooke skulked in she narrowed her eyes.

“Can someone, maybe Brooke Lynn, tell me why my face is all over the papers like a disgraced fucking gym teacher?!” she barked, her voice reverberating off the glass door of her office.

“Okay, there must have been some form of mix-up with the forms because yours was completely clean when I submitted it,” Brooke immediately fired back. She’d had a bit of time to come up with her defence and, even though it was completely feeble, it was better than silence.

“That’s got to be the most shit excuse I’ve ever heard. How does something like that happen?!” Darienne yelled back. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes shifted to the doorframe of the office, where Bianca had arrived.

“Hey, big spender,” she greeted the Minister, the joke sitting out of place with the purpose of her arrival.

“Bianca, I didn’t claim for those things. I don’t know what’s going on, I gave my forms to Brooke to do, we need to tell the press that these claims are fake!” Darienne gibbered, panicking like Bianca was holding her hostage.

“Yeah, what are we running with, Bianca? We’ve been in a no comment situation all morning,” Jan asked.

“The phone’s been ringing off the hook. I’ve been ignoring it but we’ve got to give them something soon enough,” Nina shrugged, nodding in agreement. Bianca let out a harsh exhale, rubbing her neck tersely.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, could you all just get off my back for a hot second?! You’re like a pack of fucking fleas. Are you not supposed to be a team of advisors? Are you not supposed to be head of communications?!” Bianca cried, shooting Nina an icy glare. Completely unfazed, Nina clicked her pen.

“Yes, but I’m completely unable to do anything if I don’t know what we’re communicating!”

Bianca rolled her huge eyes up to the heavens, seemingly trying to cool her boiling blood. As Brooke scanned her eyes over the rest of the room, she caught Vanessa looking straight at her, her eyes a little fearful. Brooke shot her the most reassuring smile she could manage and almost gave an audible sigh of relief when Vanessa seemed to relax.

“So, you want to go out to the media and tell them that, hey! It’s not so bad, because the truth is that I’m too lazy to fill out my own fucking expenses forms, so I just gave them to one of my aides to fill out! I’m not actually keeping that close an eye on how much I’m claiming back! Do you realise how that’s going to look?” Bianca scowled, Darienne sighing and slumping into her chair.

“So what do we do?!” she asked, her voice somewhere between a whine and a plea. Brooke began to feel a bit less guilty as she rolled her eyes. She wished Darienne had a bit more backbone, a bit more of a spine. It would endear her to her a lot more. That sort of big-eyed deer act was only cute when Vanessa did it.

There was a momentary silence in which Nina clicked her pen repeatedly, looking from Darienne to Bianca, then back to Darienne.

“You have two options,” Bianca finally said, her voice much quieter than before. Turning to the other girls, she addressed them gravely. “Could you ladies give us a moment.”

Not a question, a demand. One by one, Brooke, Vanessa, Jan and Nina all filed out and wordlessly closed the door. After a heartbeat of silence, Nina sprinted over to the comms team.

“Is it happening?!” Scarlet asked, wide-eyes and open mouthed, like a child at Christmas.

“It’s happening now! It’s happening now. Two bullets in the back of the head, bang, bang!” Nina replied excitedly, her voice ringing through the offices as she mimed a brutal murder.

“Nina!” Vanessa hissed, motioning to the glass-fronted office where Bianca and Darienne were standing motionless, looking at Nina impassively. Horrified, she abruptly sat down in her seat.

“I can’t believe it’s actually going on right now. Fuck. She’s gonna hate me, ain’t she?” Vanessa worried, biting her nails. Jan slapped her hand away from her mouth.

“Stop that!” she reprimanded, Vanessa looking to the floor sheepishly. “She won’t hate you, and if she does, well, that’s politics. She’s a grown adult, she can handle it. She knew the profession she was entering into was ruthless.”

“Nobody could hate you,” Brooke added, brushing Vanessa’s cheek with her finger very slightly. “You’re like a fucking carebear. It’s impossible.”  

A pink blush crept over Vanessa’s face. “You two are too sweet to me, get outta here. Hey, have we heard about a replacement?”

Brooke sighed. “I don’t know if she’s accepted it or not yet, but Bianca told me Jackie Cox is in the running.”

Jan and Vanessa’s faces both screwed up. “Who the hell is that?”

“I went to Uni with her. I didn’t even know she was in the game until Bianca told me she’d scouted her out. I still think Jiggly would be better.”

“You mean Bianca Castro?” Jan raised one eyebrow.

“Fuck, yes. Now she’s got me doing it,” Brooke sighed, further confusing the two girls.

Suddenly, there was a creak from the office door. Darienne emerged, her posture perfect and her head held high as she walked towards the three girls. Her eyes were cold, so much so that Brooke found herself shivering a little.

“Right, well. Thank you, ladies, for your unwavering support. I wish you all very long and successful careers,” she said cooly, then her face darkened. “And I hope you all get heart failure.”

“Aw Darienne, c’mon!” Vanessa pleaded as the ex-Minister marched towards the lift, a storm cloud of rage. As Darienne stepped into the lift, Yvie began whistling Another One Bites The Dust under her breath and Scarlet started laughing so hard Brooke momentarily thought she was suffocating.

Brooke started laughing too. She had to, she couldn’t help it. This pathetic, et tu, Brute? act was wearing. Jan was right, these were the rules of the damn game. People in the department had come and gone as if Dosac was a massive revolving door and Darienne had never shed a tear for them. Brooke hated the hypocrisy that was so freely batted about in politics. Mourning a departure with a simple “it’s a shame, but they had to go” and then acting like the damn Godfather when your own time came. There was no dignity in it, no class.

“Ding dong, the useless fucking bitch is dead,” Bianca deadpanned, Vanessa relaxing and giggling a little at the slightly less high-intensity Bianca.

“What happens now, then?” Brooke asked her. “Did Jackie take the job?”

“Like a trout on a hook. Barely even had to sell it to the kid. Right, here’s the line!” Bianca suddenly yelled, loud enough that Darienne could probably hear it from the ground floor. “Darienne will be giving a statement outside Number 10 in fifteen minutes. After that, all I want to hear is praise. Praise, praise, praise, Psalm one hundred and fucking one. At 12pm, you guys will have a new Minister. Nina, it’s your job to break her in. Break her fucking spine if necessary.”

Nina nodded apprehensively, unsure of how serious Bianca was.

“I’ll see you all again at half 12. Oh, and Destiny’s Child?” Bianca said, turning suddenly to address Brooke, Vanessa and Jan as she hit the button of the lift. “It won’t be necessary to clear your desks if you don’t plan on leaving.”

As Bianca left Vanessa turned excitedly to Brooke and Jan, grinning madly as she gave them a huge hug, happy at being allowed to stay.

Brooke decided she’d probably have quite literally stabbed Darienne in the back in order to have that smile flashed at her again.

***

“Ladies, I’d like to introduce your new Minister for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship…Jackie Cox!”

Everyone started clapping, but in equal measures scrutinising the tall girl in front of them, standing beside Nina nervously and waving hello. She hadn’t changed all that much since Brooke had last seen her. Her hair was still long, swept back into a neat pearl headband so that her dark waves fell down her back instead of over her shoulders. Her makeup was simple as it always had been: a few swipes of mascara, a dark brown eye pencil to bring out her equally dark eyes, a dusky rose shade on her lips. She was in a matching red suit jacket and tailored skirt, and had red heels on to match. Brooke’s feet were beginning to get sore in her own heels, tired from standing in line with Vanessa and Jan waiting to welcome Jackie. She didn’t have to wait much longer though as Jackie was already shaking Vanessa’s hand, smiling and gushing about how she was so honoured to take up the position and how she was so looking forward to working with her. Brooke stared at her, a little irritated with the dramatics. Jackie then moved on to Jan who was standing in the middle of the line. Brooke watched as they both looked at each other, Jan sort of open-mouthed and Jackie seemingly finding it hard to formulate words.

“You must be Janette. It’s so good to meet you,” she finally said as she shyly held out her hand. Jan took it, shaking it gently.

“It’s good to meet you too. And, uh, Jan’s fine. My friends call me Jan. Not that you’re my friend, of course, you’re my boss. But uh. You can still call me that,” Jan mumbled, her voice quiet and a little nervous and her eyes not once tearing away from Jackie’s.

“Right! Sure. I, um. I hope you’re staying on?” Jackie asked, her voice a little hopeful as she gave Jan a smile, her teeth white and dazzling.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to start working with you! It’ll be, uh. Jan-tastic!” Jan raised her eyebrows a little as she made her joke, Jackie giving a polite laugh of her own. Brooke’s brow furrowed in confusion, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. What the fuck was this?

“Well, I’m really excited to get started. It was so good meeting you, Jan,” Jackie smiled, giving Jan one last look as she finally tore her eyes away and faced Brooke. Her face immediately changed, taking on an awkward sort of expression as it was clear she had no idea what to say to Brooke. “Brooke Lynn! Hi! What a nice surprise! Gosh, it’s been a while!”

“Yeah, like, eight years. You look good,” Brooke replied curtly, not really instantly warming to Jackie despite her efforts.

“It’ll be nice working together. Just like at uni! I didn’t really believe it when Bianca said you were here!”

“Yeah, well. I’m just climbing the ladder. Where have you been these past few years, anyway?”    

“Just the stock exchange. It was always the economic side of our degree I was more interested in, but when Bianca phoned me I thought this was a pretty unmissable opportunity!” Jackie beamed at an unimpressed Brooke. Receiving no reply, she stepped back a little awkwardly. “Anyway, it’s nice that you’re here. I’d better start my briefing, so I’ll speak with you later?”

Brooke nodded wordlessly as Jackie click-clacked away. Say ‘nice’ again, bitch, I dare you.

Vanessa tilted her head as she watched Jackie retreat, her glossy hair swaying.

“Well, I like her. I think she’s gonna be good,” she concluded, clasping her hands together. Brooke narrowed her eyes at Jan, whose gaze was still fixed on Jackie.

“Jan-tastic? What the hell was that?”

Jan gave her a funny look. “What?! You know I love a pun.”

“Not just that. What about your MP thing? You’re seriously going to pass that opportunity up?”

Jan leant back against the glass door of Darienne’s old office, gazing dreamily at nothing in particular. “Um…yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll stay on. I’m still young, I’ve got time for the whole MP endeavour in a few years’ time. No, I think I’ll stick around here for a bit longer. Things might get interesting.”

Still confused at Jan’s sudden change of heart, Brooke shook her head and shrugged. In her opinion Jan was out of her mind, but if that was her decision then that was that. As Vanessa and Jan chatted excitedly Brooke made her way back to her desk, her head kind of in a daze. A lot was happening and she didn’t really know what the next few months were going to be like. An economist in a political position wasn’t new, but she was still reserved about welcoming Jackie with open arms. Still, whatever would happen she was glad that she had Vanessa and Jan to stumble through it all with.

God, she was glad Vanessa was staying.

Looking over to the Comms team she saw that Yvie’s computer was displaying the BBC website, where a live stream of Darienne’s resignation speech was playing. Yvie was sat in her chair, Jaida crouching at her right and Scarlet at her left, Adore peering over Scarlet’s shoulder as Darienne set down her sheets of paper and walked away from the lectern set up outside Downing Street. Yvie threw her hands in the air as if she was praising God.

“The old Minister is dead,” she cried dramatically. “Long live the Minister!”

[ottostherapy]

How to not be an adult - Quidditch

Severus Snape x OC

a/n: Still a Snape appreciation month story, cause Snape deserves some love. Snape appreciation month is over, you say? Okay, then this is just a regular Snape survives and seeks mental health story. (I just want him to feel happy, okay, is that too much to ask?!?) 

Excuse my language, not my mother tongue.

post-war au, where Snape survives and returns to teaching at Hogwarts. Relieved to find out Minerva understands his motives, he can now put his energy to getting to know other people. Who knew Snape could be fond of playing Quidditch? He certainly didn’t.

warnings: none

word count: 1349

last chapter

(gif’s not mine)

A few moments later Severus found himself on his old broom – a Comet 220 – waiting for Rolanda to blow the whistle. At the sound he, and the other 14 witches and wizards, pushed themselves up in the air.

Lilou, who flew right in front of him, on a Nimbus 1700, turned her head to Severus and gave him a huge smile. “We got this!”, she shouted, brandishing her bat.

Before Severus had the opportunity to answer anything sophistically sarcastic, she had vanished to the other side of the Quidditch pitch to keep a Bludger from coming too close to Minerva’s head.

Severus had great difficulty handling the bat, whilst watching over the annoying black balls and also keeping these annoying black balls from hitting his teammates.

He just saw Wilhelmina swinging her bat at a Bludger for it to distract the chasers in Speedos. Severus leant forward on his broom, he had to be a tad bit faster. Poppy was flying towards the goals with the Quaffle in her hand, yet her broom was slower than the Bludger. Severus concentrated, came closer, now he spun the bat in his hand and “KLONK”, hit the Bludger before it made any damage. The Bludger wobbled away and Severus, after regaining his balance (and almost losing the bat in the process), felt a tiny amount of pride pulse threw his system. His arms tingled, although he wasn’t sure if that came from the adrenaline or from the acidosis for, he gripped his broom and the bat tight.

To his satisfaction Poppy’s throw scored the first 10 points of the match.

Severus heard Sivit and the assistant teacher cheer loudly.

He flew higher towards Lilou, who did a little dance of joy, grinning at him. “Well done!”

Severus couldn’t help the wide smile, that spread across his face. “That, I can only return.”

Lilou snorted. “I should be well, I played for the Züricher Zig-Zags for a decade.” She swished off, banging a Bludger away from one of their Chasers, right at Irma Pince, who hurriedly passed the Quaffle to one of her teammates to dodge it.

Her teammate caught the Quaffle and while he was flying towards the goalpost, Severus could hear Sivit and the assistant teacher chanting a cheer-song for the Speedos. Deniel seemed to have heard the song as well, he laughed giddily while kicking the Quaffle away from the left ring.

Severus heard his name threw a cloud, he turned his head to see Lilou hitting a Bludger toward him, motioning at the Vilebrequins Seeker right next to him.

Severus gripped his broom tighter, started swinging the bat and hit the Bludger right before it could hit him. He must have missed the correct spot though, or he didn’t swing the bat the right way, because instead of flying to the Seeker, the Bludger was on its way to the other teams Keeper, who had to dodge, giving way for their team to score again.

The game went on, admitted Lilou did most of the work with the Bludgers, and Severus found himself quite enjoying hitting the Bludger towards other people. He didn’t wholeheartedly intend to hurt them, however the physical effort felt relieving. How came he didn’t join the Slytherin team, back in the days? He could have swept James off his broom, erased that stupid grin out of his face. Maybe the git wouldn’t have harassed him all the time then.

“Severus, out of the way!” Minerva whooshed past him. On the other end of the field, the opponent Seeker dived for, presumably, the Golden Snitch. Undoubtedly, Minerva was a great flyer, but the distance between her and the Snitch – which was swirling around their goal post – didn’t seem to minimise. She gave it her all, coming closer to the other Seeker, Severus crossed his fingers, but as she caught up with him, he threw himself into the Snitch.

“TIE!”, he heard the teams at the stands cheer. Did they really tie? He had stopped counting the goals they had made, but if they did, he though, he would probably consider playing again. Just perhaps when the weather was right and no student was around.

At the end of the day Hacketts, who had only won 2 matches, took the glory of victory. They made 30 points more than Speedos, because their Chasers didn’t let one chance slip to throw a goal.

Severus sat himself between Filius and Minerva. “Are you hungry now, Severus?”, Minerva asked.

Filius shot him a glance. “Oh, you must be, Severus. Aftre that performance of yours!”

Severus’ pale face turned red. “Filius. I didn’t do much.”

“Oh, stop being humble, Severus”, Minera admonished, “Mashed potatoes?” She scooped one ladleful onto Severus’, Filius’ and her own plates.

“Severus, I can’t remember ever seeing you playing Quidditch and I am … impressed, to say the least”, the teacher squeaked.

“I have to admit, that I was equally fond of your seeking skills.” He took the bowl with spinach, offered his colleagues some, and shovelled the green onto his plate as well.

On the other side of the table, Severus watched Lilou talk to Maia and – much to his displeasure – Sivit. He watched her talk relentlessly, just like she did, when they watched the others play Quidditch.

He had to admit, her bubbly character, her silly energy, her contagious laughter were a great distraction to the way he felt usually.

Soon the plates were blank, the hall was filled with a common noise, chattering staff members, exchanging their life stories, their experiences, their future plans.

Filius, Minerva and Severus were deep into bringing back memories from years ago. They sipped on wine from time to time – Filius and Severus liked to provide the elves with their latest insights on the best sorts – remembering the light-headed moments, the games of flying-charade, who-stole-the-lemon-drop (a game Albus had invented on a rainy day), Wizard’s chess or scrabble.

“Maybe you want to play a round or two after the feast?” Filius suggested, but Minerva shook her head.

“Filius, I have asked the others to stay after the feast for a few games and chat and whoever wants to stay is invited to do so.” She glanced over to Sybill Trelawny, who was nervously picking her eyebrows. “I expect you two stay for the games as well?”

Filius, eagerly nodded, he clapped his small hands together in joy.

“As long as I don’t have to do this Karaoke again.”

Poppy snorted. She sat next to Minerva and had been curiously listening for the past minutes. “Severus, I once heard you sing in the shower and your interpretation of that muggle song “YMCA” was nothing in comparison to the shower performance!”

Filius choked on his wine.

“Poppy.” Severus made a long pause before he continued speaking. “I have told you, that if you ever come to speak of that incident … I will have to test a new curse on you.”

Poppy laughed. “And you are also the one, who will have to brew the potion to get me back on my feet."

Severus considered his answer carefully, while Filius continued his furious coughing. The poor wizard had a bright red face, when the black-haired man spoke again: “I contemplated not to.” But he could hardly supress his lips curling up.

“Severus!” Minerva poked his side.

“I am but a mysterious man,”, he said softly, “I can’t let all my secrets slip.” Severus shrugged, holding his hands up.

“You are unbelievable, Severus!”, Minerva panted, shaking her head with a smile at her face.

The evening was filled with more wine, laughter, Wizard’s Who am I – Severus turned into Molly Weasley – some interesting conversations, some funny ones and his head spinning from the alcohol, even though he couldn’t possibly have drunken that much.

He left the Great Hall with a group of other people, he made out the vague shape of his potion’s professor in front of him and found himself hooked into a giggling Lilou. “Goodnight” he heard himself slur to her, loosening his arm from hers, heading downstairs.

“Goodnight, Severus.”

next chapter

[bechloe-are-acadorable]

Beca grimaced as she walked through the coffee shop door, 6:00am was far too early to start her shift here. She reluctantly grabbed her apron and shoved it on before yawning and making her way towards the till. “Beca, there is a new girl starting today so I want you to show her the ropes please” her manager Jesse explained.

Beca rolled her eyes “Can’t Amy do it?” She groaned, Jesse laughed at this. “Amy doesn’t even understand how to work here and she’s been doing it for over a year now. She’s lucky she has you to cover for her or I’d have had to fire her ass ages ago” Beca scowls.

It was true, not only had Beca got her friend the job but she’d also been covering her ass the entire time she’d worked there. “Fine” she sighed “Great she’s due at half 6”. Beca got to work setting up the machines and such before a red headed girl bounded through the shop doors shortly after. Ugh seriously who has that much energy this early?

Beca glanced up and her throat constricted slightly, causing her to gulp at the beautiful woman. God Beca was terrible around pretty women. “Um, hi what can I get you?” Beca managed. “I’m new here, I’m Chloe, I know I’m a bit early but I was kinda excited!” Chloe babbled as Beca stared at her. Great she was going to be showing her the ropes and couldn’t even talk to the girl due to her nervousness around pretty women.

Beca nodded after a while “Beca. I’m Beca” Beca managed to reply. Chloe enthusiastically held out her hand and Beca took it and shook her hand “I’m... um... you’re with me today I think... Jesse wants me to show you stuff I think” Chloe giggled at Beca and nodded.

Beca busied herself and calmed herself internally. She’s going to be a colleague so you will have to get over yourself and talk to her like a normal human being she thought to herself before turning back to Chloe. “Right is this is the till, it’s pretty easy to use” Beca began to explain all of the machines and how to use them.

Chloe stuck next to Beca all morning and luckily they were pretty dead so Beca had time to show Chloe exactly what she was doing. At around 8:10 Amy strolled in and sauntered over to the pair. “This is Amy and she’s only 40 minutes late for her shift today, well done Amy” Beca commented drily to Amy’s beaming grin.

“Is this the newbie?” Amy asked Beca whilst Chloe was stood right next to her “Yes, hi I’m Chloe!” Chloe grinned enthusiastically “Fat Amy, although my name tag only says Amy” Chloe looked puzzled but nodded anyway. “Most important part of training yet” Beca began and Chloe looked at her expectantly. “Don’t so anything Amy tells you to do and don’t follow her example, got it?” Chloe smiled widely and nodded. “You’re no fun Beca” Fat Amy grumbled before heading towards the coffee machine.

Chloe and Beca had their lunch break together and Beca couldn’t help but notice how perpetually upbeat the new girl was. Normally Beca would find it sickening but for some reason, she found it adorable. She was like a little ray of sunshine and Beca couldn’t help but smile.

“Today has been great Beca, thanks so much for showing me what to do!” She exclaimed whilst tucking into a sandwich. “Just doing my job” Beca mumbled, trying hard not to blush. “Well you’re very good at it, you’ve made me feel right at home” Beca frowned at this. She never made people feel at home. Usually quite the opposite. “No problem” she managed.

“But really though, I’ve just moved here this week and I don’t have any friends or anything yet and I can tell we’re going to become fast friends!” this definitely did make Beca blush. Beca simply nodded back in return and continued to eat her sandwich.

The next few weeks were hard for Beca. She saw Chloe almost every day and like Chloe predicted, the pair became very good friends very quickly. Beca still fancied the pants off of her, but was managing to push that towards the back of her mind, well for the most part anyway.

It was another dead day and the pair were stood behind the counter talking softly. “Is that a tattoo there?” Chloe asked Beca taking her wrist in her hand “Yeah just a pair of headphones” the pair had previously discussed their shared love for music and Chloe nodded her head in appreciation.

“Any others?” Beca told her about the others and quickly showed her them. “What about you?” Beca questioned. “Just two” Chloe showed her the small music note behind her ear and then pulled her pants down at the hip slightly to reveal the small double Venus sign tattoo on her hip bone. Beca swallowed quickly and nodded, managing only to squeak out a “Nice”.

Fortunately for Beca a customer arrived and she took the order. Her head however was swirling with thoughts. Surely only a gay woman would have a double Venus sign tattoo? Maybe Chloe was gay? Maybe Beca did have a chance?

Beca was pretty zoned out until lunchtime rolled around, her and Fat Amy had the same lunch slot and Beca was practically bursting to talk to someone at this point. “Right Amy, I need some advice but you have to promise you won’t blab okay?” Amy nodded clearly intrigued. “Well I’m guessing you can tell I have a little crush on Chloe by now?” Beca asked “Whaaaat? I would have never guessed” Amy replied sarcastically.

Beca rolled her eyes before continuing “Well anyway she was this double Venus tattoo she showed me it before, so I’m thinking maybe she’s gay? I dunno. Even if she is she probably wouldn’t like me like that but I just really wanna know if she is or not” Beca blurted out.

Amy winked at her “Leave it with me” she grinned “Please try and be subtle” Beca pleaded. “Subtlety is my middle name” replied Fat Amy. Beca began to have the feeling that this was a terrible idea.

After lunch Amy sauntered over to Chloe “Hey Chloe” Chloe beamed at her. “Hey Amy” “So me and Jesse have a bet care to settle it?” She asked the redhead “Sure thing!” Amy smirked. “Do you have a boyfriend?” She asked her flatly, Chloe looked at her confused. “Bit of a weird thing to have a bet about but no I don’t” Fat Amy nodded.

“That’s what I said, he said he’d seen someone that looked like you with a guy and thought it was you” Fat Amy continued “Nope not me” Chloe giggled. “You haven’t been out on a date with a guy recently then?” Amy pressed. “I haven’t been out with a boy since I was 14” Chloe continued to giggle. “What? Why?” Amy asked “I’m gay” Chloe smiled. “Ohhhhhhhhh” Fat Amy grinned “My bad, any girlfriend then?” Chloe shook her head.

“What about you, do you have a partner?” Chloe asked Amy. “Me? Nah I’m a lone wolf at the moment, couldn’t be bothered with all of my boyfriends back in Australia so moved over here” Chloe giggled at this. “What’s your type then?” Amy questioned Chloe, who shrugged before answering. “I like petite brunettes” Fat Amy grinned and nodded. “Anyway got to go these coffees aren’t going to make themselves”

Amy headed away “Wrong way Amy” Chloe called, Amy turned on her heels and started walking him the opposite direction. “Just testing you” she said to Chloe’s laughter in response.

As soon as Beca finished her lunch break Amy cornered her, but Chloe was within earshot “Um Beca we need to restock the back” Beca looked at her clearly confused. “What no we don’t” Fat Amy glared back at her “Yes we do, remember we were talking about it at lunch” Beca took a second to click onto it. Her eyes shot wide open “Ohhhhh yeah!” She turned to Chloe “Be back in ten” Chloe smiled back in return as Amy dragged Beca away.

Fat Amy rolled her eyes when they were safely away “God you’re thick sometimes” Beca shrugged. “Sorry I’m just so used to you not knowing what you’re doing in work I thought you’d got confused again” Beca grumbled. “Do you want me to tell you or not?” Amy asked pointedly “Shit yeah sorry” Amy smirked.

“So I basically made out that Jesse and I had a bet that he had seen her with some guy and she said she hadn’t been out with a boy since she was 14 because she’s gay!” Amy exclaimed. Becas face lit up “Shiiiiiit” she muttered. “I’ve got even better news, apparently petite brunettes are her type” Amy wiggles her eyebrows at Beca.

Beca gulped. Outwardly this was good news. It left Beca however, feeling vulnerable and confused, there was no stopping her from asking her out now and that scared the crap out of her. “So?” Fat Amy asked “I’ll... I’ll talk to her later” Beca muttered. “Thanks pal” Fat Amy nodded “What are best friends for eh?”

Beca went about serving coffee until the end of the day. Conveniently it was her and Chloe’s day to close the shop up. Beca trembled slightly as she thought about what to say to the girl, she quickly put the closed sign up and locked the door as she started wiping tables down.

Chloe picked up a spray bottle and a rag and started to clean the table next to her. Beca took a deep breath and decided it was now or never. “Chlo?” Chloe stoped cleaning and looked up at Beca upon hearing her name.

Beca cleared her throat slightly. “You...have a face” Beca managed to spit out, cursing herself internally as soon as the words left her lips. “Yes. Yes I do” Chloe replied, the confusion evident on her face. “I mean a nice face. You have a nice face.” Beca cursed internally once again, that was hardly any better than the first time! Chloe continued to look confused. “Thanks, I think” Beca facepalmed. “Please accept my attempts at flirting, I don’t know what I’m doing” Beca groaned.

Chloe’s confused face suddenly split into a smirk “Ohhhh that’s what’s happening” she chuckled. “I’m sorry, I’m no good at this” Beca muttered, looking down at her feet. “In fact can we forget that this whole embarrassing conversation ever happened please?” Chloe took a few steps closer to Beca “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget this” she smirked.

_____________________________________________

8 years later

Beca and Chloe were stood up in front of all of their friends and family, ready to say their handwritten vows to each other. Chloe was first up. Beca took her soon to be wife’s hands in her own as Chloe let out a nervous breath. “You have a face. I mean you have a nice face.” She glanced up at Beca who was shaking her head from the memory, with a huge smile on her face. She glanced at the people assembled before them, some of which understood the significance of that and others who looked at her like she was mad.

“I can’t believe that they were the words you chose to try and woo me all those years ago. More to the point I can’t believe that they worked” there was laughter from the crowd. “But I’m so glad that they did. Beca, I love you with all of my heart, you’re smart, funny, talented, beautiful and there is no one on this planet that I’d rather be stood up here with. You’re my soulmate plain and simple and I can’t wait to start our married life together, to have kids and to grow old together. Oh and just so you know, you have a nice face too.”

Beca was holding back tears. She mouthed I love you at Chloe before psyching herself up to deliver her own vows.

“Chloe, I am so lucky to soon be able to call you my wife. I never in a million years thought I could be marrying someone like you. You’re absolutely gorgeous inside and out. I remember the day that I met you thinking that you were like a little ray of sunshine which normally I’d hate but I couldn’t help but love it about you. You truly are the sunshine to my raincloud, you could brighten up even the darkest of days with that adorable smile of yours” Beca glanced down from Chloe’s eyes to her mouth.

“Yep that’s the one” she commented to giggles from the people watching. “You are everything I could possibly want in a wife and oh so much more and I feel lucky everyday to get to call you mine. I love you so much Chlo, here’s to the rest of our lives together”

Chloe was crying now, Beca reached up to wipe a tear away with her thumb “Don’t or you’ll start me off” she whispered to Chloe. Chloe pressed a quick kiss to Becas hand resting on her cheek to wipe the tear away and nods, holding the tears back. Chloe is handed a ring “With this ring I thee wed you Rebecca Anna Mitchell” Beca grimaced at the use of her full name and Chloe mouthed a ‘sorry’. Beca took Chloe’s ring out “With this ring I thee wed you Chloe Brittany Beale”

The priest smiled at the pair “I now pronounced you wife and wife, you may now kiss the bride” Chloe wiggled her eyebrows at Beca “Come here dork” she laughed and pulled her in for a kiss.

[olympusintelligence]

Part 1 Chapter 3

6/6/2018  13:00 (Hong Kong Time) St. Raphael’s Catholic Cemetery

Helen’s funeral was held two weeks after the explosion.

Her parents passed away long ago, so only her brother Christian handled her funeral. He  did not allow Kyle to help, and only invited him, his parents and few of his colleagues to attend it.

They met for very few times, but they were like water to fire. Kyle never got in his way, but after their first meeting he just started a quarrel with him for no apparent reason whenever they met. In every conflict Helen was torn in the middle, persuading both men to compromise.

Fortunately he did not work in Hong Kong, otherwise Kyle would have no single good day. He only knew Christian was an Undersecretary of a bureau inside the Department of State, which meant he had to work in the US and overseas for a long time, but having little knowledge of civil service in the US, he did not really know his actual rank, position and job duties. By the way, he always provoked him to quarrel with him when he visited Helen, or encountered him in Hong Kong or Los Angeles during his business trips or holidays.

Though Kyle was truly furious at his brother-in-law for his hostility towards him, he did not dare to complain this time.

He lost his lover, while he lost his only family member on earth.

**

21/5/2018 0:00 (Hong Kong time) Kyle’s home

Kyle tried to call Christian, who was somewhere in the world, but similar to the past Christian never answered or returned a call, and never responded to his Whatsapp message either. After a thorough thought, Kyle finally texted him, and very rarely within thirty seconds he replied, “Thanks. I’ll come ASAP.”

After the DVIU notified him the time and location of verifying the victim’s corpse, he texted his brother-in-law again. Four days later, his brother-in-law arrived at the morgue fifteen minutes earlier. Though he did dress up, he looked languid, as if he had had insomnia for days. Black circles were below the similar beautiful honey brown eyes, and his face was almost sickly pale. It was the first time Kyle witnessed his brother-in-law being so wretched. Helen’s death had clearly crushed him. 

In his impression, no matter how Christian had been picky towards him, he was a soft-spoken gentleman. Perhaps due to his long years in diplomacy, he was very concerned about his image. Whenever Kyle met him, he had dressed himself like a reliable executive - there must be a fine tailored suit, with a Kenneth  Cole automatic watch or smartwatch on his right wrist, and dashing leather shoes . Helen was certainly a beauty, and with the similar facial features and clear pale skin, Christian was just handsome. He was about eight years older than Helen, but as a man reaching the middle age, no signs of  fatigue  could be spotted on him. He had a well-proportioned figure, and a mature man’s charisma.

That’s why Kyle often suspected Christian only judged him based on his appearance. His average appearance and his daily T-shirt and jeans outfit might have offended him. Kyle had discussed this with Helen before, but she just briefly said, ‘Well, it only shows that he has recognized you as part of our family. He’s not that direct when he rebukes his subordinates.’ Kyle really did not know how to react to her, and she just smiled coyly.

He had doubts about Christian’s identity. He should only be a civilian official in the  Department of State, but during a dinner they had together, he noticed calluses had been developed all over his left palm, indicating he was a frequent firearm user. In the age of Web 2.0, he still had not opened any other social network accounts. And when they invited him to their engagement party, he only claimed he was too busy to show up, but during their video conference, when Kyle asked him whether he could record a video clip to convey his blessing to them instead, the siblings strangely responded that he could not attend any public function or have his appearance recorded on any camera. Still Kyle at that time just sensed that Christian had never wholeheartedly recognized him as his brother-in-law, so he did not bother to attend the engagement party or give them his blessing.

But everything became trivial soon after Helen died.

Christian followed the forensic technician to enter the morgue after waiting for Kyle. With strong restraint he just drily said to him, ‘I hope it’s not my sis.’

However, in less than ten minutes, Kyle heard a melancholic scream from afar, which he recognized was from his seemingly calm brother-in-law. At that moment, Kyle knew there was no miracle on earth. His fiancee was really in that morgue. 

Ten minutes later, Christian came back with a ghastly pale face. He warned him, ‘You really shouldn’t go in. I fear you can’t live with it.’

Kyle had the resolve to see her one last time. He had already been this far. Of course he would not back down. Following the forensic technician, he stepped into the world of the dead through the entrance of the morgue. The forensic technician cautiously reminded him, ‘I heard you’re her fiance. You must be mentally prepared for what comes next. Shall we proceed?’ 

‘Yes.’ With no regrets.

The forensic technician sighed and brought him into the unusually cold morgue. The corpses were stored in their own refrigerators. Kyle’s thin jacket could not shield him from the coldness that belonged to the dead. It sent shivers down his spine.

They both reached an open room. When Kyle looked inside, his eyes widened in fear…...

Helen’s corpse was placed on a steel bed. Perhaps it was not her entire corpse…...They were just burnt pieces. Only a well-trained, experienced forensic pathologist could distinguish which piece belonged to which part of her body. Even after a few days, they still contained the smell of burnt ashes.

He knew why his brother-in-law collapsed. The sight was too devastating for any of her loved ones to bear. When she was still alive she was such a sweet beauty, but after she passed away…...

Out of the blue, he became drowsy. His unconsciousness seemed to have filtered out many details. He could neither see the forensic technician and another forensic scientist who just arrived at the room nor hear their words clearly. As if escaping from the grip of a beast, he just ran away.  And he only kneeled on the floor and cried out loud when he finally reached a corridor.

Kyle did not notice his brother-in-law also staying on the corridor. He had hid himself at a corner about two meters away from him, but he did not plan to wait for him. Instead he intently studied his facial expressions and behavior. Every expression on his countenance and every tear could not escape his eagle eye. He no longer appeared traumatized after Kyle made his way into the morgue, and Kyle, the forensic technician and the forensic pathologist still did not find out he had been acting all along.

**

6/6/2018  14:30 (Hong Kong Time) St Raphael’s Catholic Cemetery

Christian arranged a Christian funeral for his sister, and he only invited four of her fellow classmates to join. Strangely he did not invite any of her colleagues at her gallery. He spoke little with Kyle, except simply greeted him. Kyle’s parents also felt he was too cold and resentful, but they did not reprimand him, as it was after all his sister’s funeral.

The weather was too good, and the sun was too bright for a funeral. 

The priest was reciting Catholic hymns and prayers while the attendees were listening in silence.

Kyle was still preoccupied with deep melancholy. Kyle’s parents tried to console him, but they could not come up with any appropriate words.

Kyle was actually still alert of his surroundings . He still acutely sensed a man among the attendees glared at him. It did not just indicate animosity alone, but it might be an intent to murder him.

When every one placed their flowers on his fiancee’s grave, he finally located the man. The Caucasian man ia serious-looking black suit was about the same age as Helen, and he had a rather boyish face, with an all-back dark brown hair. However, his azure eyes with the shape of an almond displayed a feature distinct from his youth - They seemed to be the embodiment of  the deep ocean itself.

Kyle thought only those men who witnessed too much darkness in their lives had such eyes, but he did not look slightly like a soul who had been through numerous tests of hardship. In fact, they never knew each other. How could he be hostile to him?

Having offered a bouquet of lilies on the grave, he courteously spoke with Christian a bit. Then he just emotionlessly said to him, ‘I am sorry for your loss.’ In a rather detached manner , he introduced himself as Andrew Hector, Helen’s classmate in Caltech.

Kyle put his suspicions aside, as it seemed Andrew just perceived him as a stranger.

After  the funeral ended, many attendees left. Kyle withdrew himself from getting immersed in his melancholy. He glanced around but neither Christian nor Andrew was in his sight . 

Worried about his mental state, Benny and Kyle’s parents proposed to escort him home. Still he had a gut feeling that he might be able to dig up some leads, so he calmly turned it down, and just mentioned he hoped to stay with Helen for a bit longer. As the trio knew Kyle had made up his mind, they chose to respect him, and only reminded him to call them whenever he needed them. They were quite worried that he might become mad when he was alone, so before they left  they let him take care of Toby, a fat corgi his parents had been taking care of, with the hope that it may bring him some solace. 

His instinct was right. When he led the always slow Toby to crawl towards a chapel, he spotted two bodyguards guarding its main entrance. He took another path to find its backdoor, but again he noticed another bodyguard stationed there. Such cautious security measures must be meant to bar anyone from entering the chapel and eavesdropping whatever took place inside.

**

Inside the chapel

‘Your status is too sensitive. Why haven’t you brought anyone with you?’ asked Andrew. His dark blue eyes showed earnest concern for Christian. Both men sat on the same bench, but kept some distance between them.

They were neither Christians nor Catholics. They knew too well they had committed crimes, and there was no need to see a statue of Mary or Jesus to be reminded of that.  They only met at such time in such place for a secret, secure exchange of intelligence.

‘I’m on bereavement and I’m only here for the funeral. There’s no need to bring anyone with me. I’m not going to intervene in the station’s operation here. The other side won’t dare to bug me as they are too preoccupied with the explosion case. Our French friends have been busy from the start, so they won’t keep an eye on me at all.’ Christian did not thank him for his  concerns, and instead responded with a sardonic smile. ‘But your organization’s methods are way too brutal. That’s why you must have at least three bodyguards with you wherever you go.’ 

‘Your ‘firm’ is the major beneficiary of our work,’ rebuffed Andrew. ‘I tried to persuade our boss not to go too far, but as you know, an old man is reluctant to change his ways.’ 

‘Oh, is he really an old man? Ha! Please don’t let him know you’ve talked behind his back in front of me.’ Christian found it hard to take in Andrew’s comments. He knew too well no matter how old was his organization’s leader, he was never an average old man.

‘No matter what happened in the past, at least we’re on the same side now, and I’ve always been on your side. If your ‘firm’ or my boss knows about this, we’ll have to contain a hurricane.’ Andrew looked at Christian with sincerity. 

‘As long as there’s no new evidence, it must only stay between us .’ Both men seemed to have reached consensus, but Christian quickly switched the turn of the conversation. , ‘Still was that explosion from our side or your side? I can see you’ll have much trouble ahead.’

‘And Kyle is just a layman. He doesn’t know a damn thing about us. I’m warning you not to do anything to him. I’ve just noticed you really wish him dead.’ 

He did not forget to warn Andrew, as he knew too well the young man was scheming, and he had kept his desire to murder Kyle well-hidden for a long time. 

**

20 minutes later

Kyle was a few meters away from the church and waited patiently for twenty minutes until the three bodyguards left to escort the mysterious Andrew outside. Together they boarded a black SUV and left. Five minutes later, Christian also left the church and drove his own white SUV away.

Well, what kind of relationship do these two men have? Kyle and Toby glanced at each other. He could not think of any answer.

Later he searched for Andrew Hector’s background on the search engine -He was the founder and CEO of Vid, a startup unicorn that operated the recently popular social media app VidChat. It was headquartered in the US, and as a private company it had an estimate valuation of at least US$2 billion. He seemed to be a low-profile talented tech tycoon who mostly stayed away from any public occasions.

What kind of connection does a tech tycoon share with a diplomat in the Department of State?

—

@whataremetaphor @pilipalea @ill-write-when-im-dead @requiemesque @adie-dee @things-waiting-to-be-written

[paleorecipecookbook]

Ancestral Health: What It Is and How It Can Help You

We’re living in a time of incredible innovation and advancement, yet we’re sicker and more overweight than ever before. And unfortunately, there’s every indication that, based on projected statistics, many people will never get healthy and stay that way.

Some days it seems as if there’s no solution for our health woes, not to mention the pain and suffering caused by the financial burdens of chronic illness. But I can assure you that that’s far from the case and that we can break this cycle.

It’s possible to halt and even reverse the current disease epidemic—using a strategy we have access to right now. It isn’t a brand-new drug, device, or surgical procedure. The solution is ancestral health. By following the blueprint for healthy living that our hunter–gatherer ancestors laid out for us so long ago, we can stave off the long list of uniquely modern chronic conditions, stay naturally lean and fit, and age gracefully.

Chronic disease has reached epidemic levels, and modern medicine can’t seem to halt its progression. Find out how ancestral health—moving, eating, and living more like our ancestors did—can stem the rising tide of chronic illness. #paleo #healthylifestyle #chriskresser

Chronic Disease Is Common, But It Isn’t Normal

Chances are that either someone close to you has a chronic disease or you’re dealing with one yourself, if not both of these scenarios. Chronic illness is so prevalent now that it’s almost impossible to imagine life without it: six in 10 U.S. adults have a chronic disease, while four in 10 suffer with two or more chronic conditions. (1)

Nearly six million Americans are currently living with Alzheimer’s. (2)

More than 100 million Americans have either prediabetes or diabetes. (3)

Some 50 million people in this country have an autoimmune disease such as Hashimoto’s, rheumatoid arthritis, or multiple sclerosis. (4)

Worldwide, an estimated 2.2 billion people are either overweight or obese; among the most populous countries, the highest prevalence of obesity can be found, you guessed it, here in the States. (5, 6)

One-third of Americans suffer from high blood pressure, with some statistics suggesting that hypertension may actually affect half of all U.S. adults. (7, 8, 9)

Yet throughout most of our species’ enduring existence, humans did live largely free of these illnesses that today shorten our lifespan and make us miserable. Chronic disease may be our “new normal,” but it definitely isn’t our “normal normal.”

Paleontological and archaeological findings have confirmed this, but perhaps the best evidence is the fact that remaining hunter–gatherer societies—who live as closely as possible to the way our Paleolithic ancestors did hundreds of thousands of years ago—don’t generally suffer from the most common chronic conditions.

One study of the Tsimané people in Bolivia found that they have a prevalence of atherosclerosis 80 percent lower than ours in the United States and that nine in 10 Tsimané adults aged 40 to 94 have completely clean arteries and no risk of heart disease. Researchers also found that the average 80-year-old Tsimané male has the same vascular age as an American in his mid-50s. (10) Studies of the Hadza of Tanzania reveal that less than 2 percent of Hadzan adults qualify as overweight. And type 2 diabetes is so rare among these and other contemporary hunter–gatherer populations that few reports looking into its prevalence even exist. (11)

Mismatch: Why Your Health Is So Different From Your Ancestors’ Health

So what happened? How did the majority of us go from being naturally inclined toward health to being seemingly guaranteed at least one debilitating diagnosis?

In a word: mismatch—between our genes (hardwired genetic programming), our physiology, and our biology on the one hand and the modern environment we’re living in on the other.

All organisms are adapted to survive and thrive in a particular environment. When that environment changes faster than the organism can adapt, mismatch occurs. This is a fundamental principle of evolutionary biology, and it applies to humans as much as it applies to any other organism in nature.

Our environment is almost unrecognizable from that of our ancestors, and we aren’t  eating, moving, or resting like the hunter–gatherers that we still are, biologically. We know from hard evidence that this mismatch—pitting environment against biology—is the primary driver of chronic disease.

Some of the starkest examples of this include studies and observations of existing 21st century hunter–gatherers reporting that when they leave their villages and trade their traditional ways for a Western lifestyle, they develop diabetes, obesity, and cardiovascular complications. (12, 13)

Back in Balance: The Basics of an Ancestral Lifestyle

It’s clear: the fastest way to recover your natural health is to return to a way of eating and living that more closely matches what your genes and biology are designed for. I’ve written and talked extensively about this approach online, in my books, and on my podcast, but here’s a broad overview to set you on the path, right now, to reclaiming your vitality through ancestral health.

Eat Real, Nourishing, High-Quality Foods

We know, without a doubt, that our Paleolithic ancestors ate animal products. Indeed, most researchers believe that consuming meat and fish is what led to our larger brains and smaller guts compared to other primates. (14, 15, 16) Though no ancestral population following a completely vegetarian or vegan diet has ever been discovered, it’s evident that hunter–gatherers did also enjoy plant foods, such as starchy root vegetables. (17)

Some traditional cultures also consumed grains and legumes. But those who did went to great lengths to break down the natural nutrient inhibitors these foods contain; these methods included soaking, sprouting, fermenting, and leavening.

We also know, without a doubt, that hunter–gatherers did not consume refined sugar, flour, and seed oils, or what I call “the three horsemen of the apocalypse” because they promote overeating and inflammation, which is at the root of all modern disease. To my mind, the introduction of industrial food processing has had the most detrimental effect on our health of any other factor in the last few hundred years—and possibly in the entire history of humankind.

In addition to the harmful presence of refined sugars, flour, and seed oils, processed foods also deliver high levels of chemical additives and preservatives. Some of these ingredients have known negative effects, from leaky gut and autoimmune disease to stroke and kidney damage, while the effects of others are still unknown. (18, 19, 20)

Here’s your ancestral diet action plan:

Bypass bags and boxes. Of course, not all foods that come in bags and boxes are harmful, so this isn’t meant to be taken literally. It’s just a helpful guideline to steer you toward real food (see below). Butter is often packaged in a box, and frozen vegetables (and some fresh) come in plastic bags. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat butter and vegetables. But in general, if you follow this precept, you’ll minimize your intake of health-damaging flour, sugar and other sweeteners, industrial seed oils, and other processed and refined ingredients.

Base your diet on real, whole, nutrient-dense foods like meat, organ meat, fish and shellfish, eggs, fruits and vegetables, nuts and seeds, herbs and spices, and starchy plants like potatoes and sweet potatoes, along with healthy fats to aid in nutrient absorption.

Exercise caution with grains and legumes. If you choose to eat these foods, it’s best to soak them prior to cooking to maximize nutrient bioavailability.

Focus on quality over quantity. Choose local and organic produce and pasture-raised animal products or wild-caught fish whenever possible, which most closely mimic the foods available to our ancestors via hunting and foraging.

Sit Less and Move (Much) More—Sometimes Intensely

Movement played a major role in daily life for hunter–gatherers. After all, they spent the majority of their time, well, hunting and gathering. They had to exert themselves, and often quite strenuously, to survive: our ancestors sprinted, jogged, climbed, carried, and jumped intermittently throughout the day, on top of walking an average of six miles and running one-half to one mile per day. (21)

In other words, they didn’t sit all day like so many of us do. We spend endless hours working at computers, watching TV, and commuting by car. In fact, the typical U.S. adult is now sedentary for about 60 percent of his or her waking life and sits for an average of six or seven hours every day. (22, 23) Sitting has been called the new smoking, and for good reason: it’s linked to heart disease, insulin resistance, cancer, and the list goes on. What’s more, research has found these same negative health outcomes in those who exercise but still spend the majority of their day seated.

Your ancestral movement action plan:

Stand up. It’s the simplest way to sit less. I recommend standing for half of your day.

Talk a walk. Actually, take lots of walks and regularly engage in other low-intensity activities. Consider walking or bicycling to work, doing your own household chores, and finding a hobby like gardening that, quite literally, moves you. If you can build a daily walk into your workday—parking further away from your office, walking during your lunch break, or walking with your child or a pet after work or dinner—it becomes a habit that’s easy to keep.

Push yourself occasionally throughout the week with bouts of more intense exercise; just don’t overdo it. I recommend a protocol established by my friend and colleague Dan Pardi.

Sleep More and Stress Less

I’m sure if I asked you to conjure up an image of a hunter–gatherer, he or she wouldn’t be lounging lazily on a sofa. Although they were almost always on the move, these people relaxed, too. Our ancestors alternated strenuous and demanding days of physical activity with days of rest, an instinctual response that protected them from injury and fatigue.

Our modern lifestyle is a stark mismatch in this regard. We live in a culture that values productivity and activity above all else and is almost scornful of rest and relaxation. “Resting” for many people means browsing the internet or engaging with some other kind of sleep-sapping, artificial light-emitting electronic device that is anything but restful for the brain and the body. We’ve not only forgotten the value of rest—we’ve forgotten how to do it.

Thus, we’re stressed out. Constantly. Our ancestors experienced stress when fleeing a predator or out on a hunt. But, as I shared above, they punctuated these stressful times with moments of calm. We simply aren’t built for chronic stress, as evidenced by the immense amount of research illustrating that it wreaks total havoc on our bodies.

Your ancestral action plan for R&R:

Sleep soundly, and for seven to eight hours a night. You can’t be healthy without adequate sleep. Period. Check out my steps for beating insomnia and adopting good sleep hygiene.

Manage your stress. There’s no way to completely remove stress from your life, but you can avoid unnecessary stress by learning to say no to projects or commitments you can’t handle, staying away from people who get your blood boiling, and turning off the news (or at least limiting your exposure to it), as examples. To mitigate the harmful effects of the stressors you can’t avoid, try relaxation practices and techniques such as meditation, yoga, and calm breathing.

Prioritize pleasure. Listening to music, playing with your pets, laughing with friends, and spending time outdoors all can help you cultivate more pleasure in your life, and pleasure is the antidote to chronic stress.

Now I’m interested to hear your thoughts. Is your lifestyle in line with that of our ancestors? What changes can you make to your habits to get more in tune with your hunter–gatherer heritage? Comment below and let me know!

The post Ancestral Health: What It Is and How It Can Help You appeared first on Chris Kresser.

Source: http://chriskresser.com February 21, 2019 at 05:57PM

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON MAYDAY’S LEAD VOCAL, LEAD DANCE KANG YOONAH...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 20 DEBUT AGE: N/A TRAINEE SINCE AGE:14 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: N/A

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): 새끼윤아 (saekkiyun-a) –  as in kid yoonah, quite literally. she’s seen in msg hallways since she was very young and people there (from staff to idols) practically saw her growing up which also meant she kind of became the mascot of some of them over the years.

あおい (aoi) – despite yoonah being a common name and easy to pronounce, her parents thought it would be better for her adaptation in a foreign country to have a japanese name INSPIRATION: in part, it happened because she loved singing since young and because her father played a big influence in her choice of career. in the other hand, things just aligned very well at the right moment to her. yoonah was living a moment in which everything ended related to idols. snacks, phones, drinks, food, her friends only talked about that and the radio was always playing the latest hits. it felt overwhelming and exciting. the last push she needed was the vocal competition and since then she never left. SPECIAL TALENTS:

taiko – yoonah spent most of her childhood years living in japan and while she was in school there, she was taught how to play the drums and even performed in some festivals

steady breathing – perhaps due to her many years under training, she developed a very controlled breathing while singing. she can even jump rope while singing a couple of song parts

mimics sounds – she can mimic a couple of sounds like a bubbles popping, some animals, doraimo and even the haegeum.

NOTABLE FACTS:

admission – yoonah became part of MSG because she won a vocal competition sponsored by the company

siblings – she’s the youngest of three and while her older sister is involved with nothing related to the business, her middle brother is a constant presence in yoonah’s life since he’s also/planning to be an idol

language – while growing up, her household was a constant of korean and japanese language mixed. once she moved back to korea, that habit didn’t vanish and sometimes, she let slip some mixed phrases

education – while she attended regular middle schools in japan, yoonah is an alumni from the school of performing arts in seoul

health – yoonah always had a somehow fragile health. besides being nearsighted she also suffers from anemia

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

as many of the other trainees, what she wants the most is to debut. it has been almost seven years since she joined the company and she’s practically craving to leave her status as a trainee and finally became an idol despite her reluctance to pursue this career at first

LONG-TERM GOALS:

she imagines that, once everything settles down and she makes her debut, she’ll be able to move into radio hosting and music production. in the past few years it has become something she wanted to be involved and she’d be absolutely thrilled to follow a more secluded area of the entertainment business

IDOL IMAGE

when yoonah is fourteen, she stumbles her way in something that she, at first, didn’t want to. she’s all pouts and her puff and rosy cheeks accentuate her cute features even more in the lights of the building. ‘so cute’ the receptionist whispers, ‘she’s the one isn’t she? the one who won the competition’ a boy asks.

the first impression is of a lost kid. small steps and bowed head, all shy and unsure. once she finds her way, not much changes. yoonah is still shy and in a corner, not certain what she was supposed to do but the moment she opens her mouth things are different. she sings in a way that shows she’s untrained and childish, it sounds clear though, and her voice is pretty and soothing. she’s just a kid and now there’s a plenty of time until she manages to be perfect for what her company wants her to be.

yoonah is adorable and has a good voice but the cuteness is not the only façade MSG wants and it’s certainly not the only one she can pull off. she grew confident over the years of training, she doesn’t shy away when asked to try something new and she certainly won’t try to hide herself behind her seniors when teased about something.

as years passed by, she started getting the impression that if something different didn’t pop up from her side, then she definitely wouldn’t be able to make it to debut. the bratty but still cute play she keeps on to the entertainment of many (from her company and school and sometimes, when she’s able to visit, her home) became much of her own personality than something she keeps just for the sake of the act.

so far, her plans have been working. MSG still is in good terms with the image she portrays, and they are aware (if she didn’t make it as obvious as she could) that she’d be fine to do whatever fanservice fit for her image — from cringy cute acts to feeding the same-group couple craze.

if yoonah could have one wish regarding this situation, she’d ask her company to not ask her to go to extremes. despite her young appearance, she’s already in her 20’s and even though she’s already this old, she doesn’t seek for a drastic change. she’s hoping that being in their hands for almost seven years also meant they’d know at least this much.

IDOL HISTORY

tw: unhealthy relationship (familiar)

introduction

stars were aligned in the day they both meet. college colleagues in a class that didn’t have anything directly connected with what they were coursing.

she’s aims to become a teacher and he wants to become a singer. just like their shared class, there’s nothing to connect there, but they keep in touch, help each other with the subject, check if they are eating properly and not just skipping it altogether. soon, they are not caring for the other as just a friend from that one class, feelings build and they work their way through school as a couple. break-ups, misunderstandings, joys and achievements.

               verse

things after school are not a fairytale. misook struggles to get her first job since she didn’t have any connections and she’s also a woman trying to get a recognizable role. junghoon also stumbles on his own feet with his career. men are better seen when dressed in a uniform instead of holding a guitar.

they are married now, and they need to find some stable work to finally form their family properly. misook gets a job in an elementary school far from her apartment by an hour which is great, it’s a progress. junghoon, in the other hand, stagnates. he starts getting part time jobs in restaurants and construction sites to get some money to help at home. there’s nothing but a lot of struggle in the beginning but things eventually work the way they should, and they start their life together, husband and wife, hand in hand.

               pre-chorus

minji was born in early 1990’s. she’s pretty and has the features and behavior of a baby princess. hyunwoo was born a couple of years later and he too is someone they can be proud of. finally, yoonah came when spring had just begun to bloom.

the financial situation was nice by the time. misook and junghoon found their stability before deciding to have children, although three was never in their plans at first.

they were supposed to have a comfortable life.

but the crisis hit in their doorstep and they mistakenly opened a gap. she lost her job as a teacher and the business he started to run wasn’t working as well as before. with no other warning the five of them moved to japan where his parents lived. it was rushed and unprepared and they weren’t very certain of what would happen to them in a time like that one. but they went anyways and although not ideal, they were united.

chorus

yoonah is four and she’s attending a school where people don’t speak the same language as she. the same happens when she goes to the supermarket with her mother and any other place they visit. she’s shy and unsure of what to do but her mother is a light and she helps her through it.

she’s the youngest child in their house and she’s the one who lived the least in their home country, so despite her lack of social skills, she easily adapts to the new surroundings. She’s not the girl one would pick for a round of dodgeball but in arts and music class, people definitely see her charm. she’s timid during most of the time, it’s true, she doesn’t necessarily like to be the center of attentions, but her teacher helps her. she gives yoonah her time to work things out, to be in her own comfortable place, this help naturally makes her develop a certain fondness towards music.

she grows up quite sick. her health is not the best, she gets a cold way too easily, her body is frail, and she falls on her own. people are inclined to not hurt her and to not go too hard on her, she won’t do the running exercises or play hide-and-seek, instead she stays indoors, looking out of the window.

as she gets older, her immune system gets stronger, but her reputation still pursues her. she stopped minding that a while ago, preferring to remain in her comfort zone, playing with instruments that were too big for her and ones too complicated to even start learning. some of her friends even tried to invite her to play. with her situation, it could easily be assumed she’d be an outsider, but her classmates warm up to her fast, she’s well-loved and well-cared but she has her own pace.

               bridge

her father still is not happy with the life he has. despite having three great kids and an amazing wife, the fact that he wasn’t able to follow his dream as a musician still haunts him to this day. they heard the stories almost every other week, when they had dinner together, and his frustration was clearly pointed.

yoonah don’t blame him entirely but the moment she started being forced to audition to musical groups and be signed for festivals, the glow that music had slowly started to fade away.

when he heard about entertainment companies sponsoring music competitions, about having young people signed off with their labels if they won, he was thrilled. his children had the opportunity he never had. in the first opportunity, they flew all the way back to south korea for a couple of days and despite used to, yoonah wasn’t familiar with the grandiosity of that event. she froze and couldn’t perform. her father was furious.

the moment followed her for the next couple of months and she wrongly felt guilty for failing him like that. she wanted to become someone he’d be proud and not ashamed of, so she asked her mother to keep an eye if any other opportunity raised, and reluctantly, the woman complied.

               elision

this time, when she flew to her home country with her mother only, she had a certain easiness in her heart, but she still felt pressured. When her mother crouched by her side and told her she should just do whatever she felt she should, yoonah smiled and hugged the woman for her support.

this time the fourteen years old was capable of showing what she supposed to show. she sang and played the giant guitar in a very timid way at first but still strongly certain of every step she should take. people were paying attention to what she did, and that boosted her confidence in a way, because she grew stronger. her part in the competition wasn’t so small or insignificant anymore, she shone. and she won.

this time she was assigned with MSG.

this time, when she went back to japan, her father had a smile so big that didn’t fit in his face.

this time she had reached her goal, but she was still unfulfilled. was this truly what she wanted?

this time, her mother said enough. Enough to crazy ideas, to pushing their children to do things they didn’t want, enough of projecting his dreams on a little girl, enough to everything.

this time they divorced.

outro

they were all back in south korea eventually, but not together anymore. despite doing what she did because of her father, yoonah went along with her training in MSG. she doesn’t know why she kept it up, it wasn’t for lack of support that didn’t give up, since her mother was favorable to make her end things before she even started if that wasn’t what she really wanted.

but then yoonah was reminded of the time when she was back on that stage and how free she felt at that moment, and how she wanted to feel that feeling again and perhaps, she could revive that moment in the future. So, she stayed, warned that she could call an end at any moment.

in the beginning, all was new, naturally, and she thought she wouldn’t be able to adapt. it was, after all, a lot to get used to. a culture that despite being her own, was still unfamiliar, a routine that changed all the time because of practices and school and exams. she persevered.

but her perseverance wasn’t enough. she saw as big groups of her company started to debut, she saw cherry bomb at its early years and looked up to them as if they were goddesses, she trained with the boys from indigo and hoped with all her heart to be chosen as a member of honey. she saw as her friends debuted in 1ferno and she was still there waiting for a chance. what didn’t make her change labels or give up on the idol career was probably the fact she started enjoying the whole thing. she made friends who she cherished and appreciated and seniors who looked out for her, and everything was so familiar and natural that giving a thought to leave that comfortable zone sent a nauseating feeling down to her stomach.

almost seven years later and she still waits for a chance to make it to her debut. sometimes when she’s back in the dorms, when a day was particularly bad or upsetting she wonders if all the luck she had in life was spent in that day when she performed and by a miracle, her charisma (or lack of it) and mild talent made her win the competition that made her sign with MSG. she wonders if she left the company everything would be okay and she’d find another place where she’d be more likely to debut. she absolutely hated herself for not being able to disconnect the people from her future and remain stagnated because that’s how she feels when she sees people who trained with her performing while she’s still there working on dance sequences and voice exercises. she knows she got better and she knows she deserves a chance… she probably ran out of luck.

but she still endures the whole process. she still does what she’s asked and she smiles and tries to enjoy this eternal waiting moment, for as long as they want or for as long as she can take.

[olicitysecretsanta]

Freeze Frame, Pause, Rewind, Stop

Hi, Ali ( @olicitysmoaky ) :-) Happy holidays and also happy belated birthday!!! You’ll see that I pretty much completely missed the mark concerning your suggestions (even though I did avoid your no-nos!), but I hope you’ll still enjoy this little monster of a fic!! This one may take some time to get through, but I’ve had a blast writing it and just couldn’t seem to stop myself ;-) Happy reading, happy holidays and a happy new year!! -Bri @bri617aroundtheworld

P.S.: Title inspired by P!nk’s song “For Now”

⁂⁂⁂

Felicity brushed a few errand snowflakes off her coat when she stepped into Table Salt. The upscale restaurant was bustling with positive energy and laughter-filled chatter. She hadn’t been here very often, due to the fact that it was quite expensive, but the few business dinners she’s had here were making her lick her lips in anticipation of the delicious food and wine, despite the big question mark that was her date for the night.

Gosh, there were so many things she’d rather be doing on the second night of Hanukkah.

A few years ago, she’d sworn to her best friend she’d never go on another blind date in her life, but when her grandma had sprung this thing on her earlier in the day, she’d found herself unable to say no.

“Good evening, Miss. Welcome to Table Salt,” the maître d’ greeted her with a kind smile, motioning for an attending to take her coat. “How may I be of assistance?”

“Hi, thank you. I have a reservation. Smoak, table for two?” she replied, hoping her grandma’s instructions were correct. How in the world she got a last minute reservation here was beyond her.

His eyes lit up in recognition and he nodded eagerly. “Ah, yes, of course, Ms. Smoak. Your dinner companion arrived a few minutes ago. If you follow me, I’ll be happy to show you to your table. Right this way.”

Quickly falling in stride with the older man, she swallowed down the new wave of nervousness that threatened to pull her under. Her date was already here. So much for her plan to take a few minutes to settle in, maybe enjoy a glass of wine to calm her nerves.

Weaving through the already occupied tables, she was too absorbed with not tripping and making sure her dress wasn’t riding up, otherwise she might’ve seen the train wreck coming. But by the time she arrived at her table and her eyes fell on her supposed dinner companion, it was already too late.

No fucking way.

This must be a mistake.

She will kill her grandma.

“Mr. Queen, your dinner companion has arrived,” the maître d’ alerted the man sitting at her table, who was focused on his phone. Of course, he was. Ignorant asshole.

Seemingly on autopilot, he got up from his chair, still typing away on his device before finally looking up when the maître d’ turned back to her, pulling out her chair. “Please have a seat, Ms. Smoak. Your grandmother already arranged for you to be served our classic three-course house special, but I’ll send a waiter your way to take your drink orders. Have a pleasant evening.”

She didn’t even have time to protest or bring up her hope that this was a misunderstanding before the older man vanished, probably sensing the immense displeasure radiating from both of them.

From across the table, slunk down in his chair again, Oliver stared at her in shock. “Felicity?”

“The one and only.”

Ugh, what a stupid thing to say. But before she could go on an epic ramble to correct her lame statement, the jerkwad opposite her cut in.

“Are you sure you’re at the right table? I’m supposed to meet someone.”

“Am I sure that my grandmother somehow managed to guilt-trip me into a blind date with the one guy I’d never voluntarily go on a date with?” she asked exasperatedly, silently cursing her conniving grandma. “Unfortunately, the answer to that is yes.”

“Wait. Your grandma… and my grandma… set us up?” he probed, eyebrows drawn together as he put two and two together.

“Seems like it,” she agreed, the beginnings of a headache settling in the back of her skull. “What did your grandma tell you?”

“That she wagered a date with me in a round of poker with her friends and she lost, so I had to come here to meet the granddaughter of one of her friends.”

“Yup. That sounds familiar.”

Damnit, grandma.

⁂ ⁂⁂ ⁂⁂⁂ 5 hours earlier

“You did what?”

“I won you a date with a very nice young man,” her grandma told her again with a calm voice, like this was something that happened every day.

“That’s not a thing, bubbe. You don’t just win dates for your granddaughter, or anyone else for that matter. People meet and decide to go on dates, not have it decided for them like they’re just two pawns in a game of chess.”

“What was I supposed to do? It was Gloria’s idea. She ran out of money during our poker night and asked if it was okay to wager a date with her grandson. Everybody agreed that it was fine, because, of course, we’ve all seen pictures of him and I knew he was just the right guy for you. It took some serious bluffing to get everybody else to fold, but you don’t mess with a Vegas girl.”

“And now, I have to go on a date with some guy I’ve never met before?”

“How’s that different from all those dating snaps you young people have?”

“Dating apps,” Felicity sighed. “And I wouldn’t know, because I don’t use them.”

“Which is why you haven’t got laid in way too long,” her grandma mumbled nonchalantly.

“Bubbe!” She turned to the older woman with wide eyes.

“Oh, come on, honey, it’s not a secret that you haven’t had sex since you broke up with that Willy guy almost a year ago, is it?”

How did she even know that?

“His name was Billy, and who says I haven’t had sex since him? And oh my god, why am I actually talking about this with you?”

“It’s healthy to talk about sex, sweetheart. I have no idea where you got your prudishness from.”

Not from your part of the family, that much is clear.

“Can we stop talking about my sex life and get back to the problem at hand? I don’t wanna go on a date with this mystery grandson of your friend. How do you know he’s a nice guy? Every grandmother loves their grandchildren and boasts about them. So, what if this guy is actually the biggest creep? What if he’s a criminal? At least give me his name, so I can run a quick background check on him.”

“I promise you that he’s a good guy, Felicity. I wouldn’t ask you to go on this date with him otherwise.”

“But why should I go in the first place? I’m sure this guy is just as unhappy to be a pawn in his grandmother’s game as I am. Can’t we just skip the inevitable awkwardness and get to the never seeing each other part already?”

“Because you never go out anymore. You just work, work, and work even more. And I’m worried you’ll look back in a few years and regret not having been more spontaneous and only concentrating on your work and being unhappy,” her grandma insisted, patting her cheek gently.

That gave her some pause. Yes, she was definitely working a lot at the moment, being no stranger to clocking 14 and 15 hours every day, even throwing in a few Saturdays every month. But that didn’t automatically equal being unhappy.

“I love you, bubbe, I really do. And I love that you worry about me, but you really don’t have to,” she replied calmly, hoping her grandmother could tell she was being absolutely serious. “I love my job. I love most of my colleagues. I get to make a difference in the world and that makes me happy.”

“But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to share that happiness with? Someone to come home to? Someone to share your success with?”

“Nice? Sure. But not necessary. I’m happy being single right now.” Before her grandma could object, she quickly added, “That’s not to say I wanna stay single forever, but, at the moment, I don’t have the time to be in a relationship.”

For a second, it looked like she’d actually managed to convince Freida Smoak. Just for a second. “Fine, no relationship then. But what about casual sex? Surely, you can make some time for that…”

“Oh my god,” Felicity exclaimed, more exasperated than ever, turning to the third Smoak woman in the room who’d remained suspiciously silent throughout this extremely uncomfortable conversation. “Some help, mom?”

“Sure, honey,” Donna said with a serene smile. “Should I put two or three condoms in your purse?”

“You’re both unbelievable,” Felicity groaned, finally resigning herself to the fact that she couldn’t win an argument against the two of them when they ganged up on her like this. “When and where am I meeting this guy?”

It was just one date. What could possibly go wrong?

⁂⁂⁂ ⁂⁂ ⁂

⁂⁂⁂ ARROW ⁂⁂⁂

“I think I’ll just leave,” Felicity contemplated out loud, gaining his attention. “We can just lie to them and say we had a decent time, but nothing more would come of this. Right? Then we don’t have to sit here and pretend not to have a miserable time with each other.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her and let his eyes glide past her, hastily pasting on a fake smile that he hoped looked like he was having a good time. “Too late, because my grandma and mother just walked in and they definitely saw us,” he pressed out between gritted teeth.

“Why would your grandma and mother be here?” she hissed, her head whipping around to spot the woman in question.

He shifted in his seat, suddenly even more uncomfortable than before. “Well, I wasn’t exactly too enthusiastic when she told me about this date earlier and I think they just wanted to check that I actually showed up.”

Felicity snapped her mouth shut, cocking her head curiously. “Well, we could still leave and say we skipped dinner in favor of dessert,” she suggested with a shrug, before adding quietly, “That was my grandma’s plan all along anyway.”

Wait, what?

“You need your grandma’s meddling to get laid?”

“No,” she said, maybe a hair too quickly and defensively. There was definitely more to that than she was willing to share. “And who are you to judge, Mr. My-grandma-got-me-a-date-and-is-now-following-me-to-make-sure-I-have-a-good-time?” she added, more confidently this time.

Point taken.

He pressed his lips together. If there was one thing concerning Felicity Smoak he had major problems with was his love/hate relationship with whenever she called him on his shit. If mostly for the fact that he wasn’t used to that sort of behavior from non-family members. At work, most people were so intimidated by his last name that barely anyone ever dared to contradict him.

But, alas, Felicity Smoak wasn’t most people. He had to learn that the hard way very early on.

From day one, working in accounting had been a depressing, soul sucking exercise of patience and perseverance. He didn’t want to be there and the department head didn’t want him to be there either, but it had been his father’s brilliant idea to let him rotate through all essential departments of the company before establishing him in an executive position. Supposedly, that would give him the necessary holistic know-how to one day take over as CEO.

Five years ago, Oliver had relented when faced with the very real threat of being cut off financially from his parents unless he got his act together. Since then, he’d worked in a handful of different departments and even in overseas offices. Much to his surprise, he’d actually enjoyed the work. That was until he got transferred to accounting.

He’d been miserable at first, but then his boss had put him in charge of managing the IT department’s budget. And that’s where he’d crossed paths with Felicity Smoak, chief technological officer.

The only way he could describe her was as a spit fire.

She was the youngest CTO in the history of the company thanks to her double master’s degree from MIT at the tender age of 19 and her rapid, subsequent rise through the ranks at QC. Everybody he talked to about her could barely stop singing her praises because, apparently, she was perfect.

Admittedly, he himself had to work hard not to be drawn in by her natural charm at first, but that had quickly turned into complete disdain whenever he met her. Thanks, mom and dad, for the inferiority complex at work.

He hated her perfectly designed PowerPoint presentations, her insane confidence when speaking in front of executives, her stupidly brilliant ideas that would shape the future of the company, and her ray-of-sunshine positivity that lit up every room she entered. He fucking hated it all.

But what he hated most was that he was attracted to her. She was so goddamn smart and beautiful –good god, her legs were a work of art, and her ass should have its own religion and be worshipped everyday— and refreshingly honest that it almost overshadowed his immense dislike of everything else.

Almost.

But it wasn’t quite enough to keep his petulant, childish side from pointing out every little flaw he could find and make her life harder. Which, in turn, had turned into her making his life harder.

He was pretty sure that if they didn’t have all this shit between them, they could actually be friends… or more. Maybe this was fate giving him a second chance.

“No wonder you need your grandma’s help to score a date if this is how you treat women,” her voice ripped him out of his musings, reminding him that he totally ignored her for the past few minutes. “You know what, I think I’ll just go. I’ll make up an excuse about having a migraine or something.”

“No, wait,” he hurried to say, making a potentially life changing decision when he saw her moving from her seat. “Stay.” He covered her hand with his larger one on the table between them, pleasantly surprised when she stopped her retreat.

Maybe this was the perfect opportunity to finally make a change, put all of their grievances with each other behind them and turn their relationship around. Even if nothing more would come of it, it would certainly help to have a little less hostile work environment. Worst case scenario: everything stayed the same. Surely, this was worth a shot.

Her confused eyes moved slowly from their connected hands to his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Right, sorry.” He removed his hand, holding it up in defense. “Why don’t you stay? It’s just one dinner. We’ve done dinner before, right?”

“Yes, business dinners with plenty of other people who kept us from biting each other’s heads off,” she reminded him.

“Okay, fine, but still… we’re adults. We can mange to sit through a dinner together, right? Then neither of us has to lie to our grandmas and we can move on with our lives. I promise to be a better dinner companion than the past ten minutes.”

He was surprised to realize how much he actually wanted her to stay. Maybe his patent-pending Billion Dollar Oliver Queen Smile would help sway her.

Nope. The suspicious frown on her face told him otherwise.

“You’re paying, right?” she finally said, leaning back in her seat. “Because I’m gonna need a lot of really good wine to get through this night.”

“You can have all the wine,” he promised just as their waiter came around with a bottle of red and two salads.

“So, you’re just stingy about giving me money when we’re at work?”

And here we go, he thought.

“You really wanna talk about work?”

“Well, yeah. Why not? It’s not like this is a real date, so we might as well talk about you being a jerk to me all the time at work.”

“I’m not a jerk. I’m being a responsible accountant,” he shot back semi-truthfully. He knew he purposely was a jerk to her, but also to everybody else who didn’t do their work right.

“You’ve blocked literally every single budget proposal I’ve submitted since you started working in accounting,” she said, her voice accusatory.

He had already decided to try and mend fences, so he should probably tell her the truth instead of antagonize her like he usually did, right?

“Because you cut corners and submit incomplete paperwork. And you always use way too bloated calculations to justify the insane amounts you ask for,” he reasoned, pointing his fork at her before digging into his salad.

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“So, why did your predecessor have no problem greenlighting my budgets?” she challenged, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I’m going out on a limb here, but I’d guess that he probably wanted to get in your pants.”

“No, he didn’t,” she denied vehemently.

“Really?” His eyebrows shot up. “He never asked you out? He never used the excuse of getting dinner or drinks to discuss your proposals? Never found a way to get you alone for a few minutes when you were out with work friends?”

“I…” She considered his words, cocking her head. “That was only…” She trailed off with a frown.

He knew he got her. “I went back and checked every proposal you filed before I got there. None of them were complete and none of them should’ve been granted.”

“And instead of just telling me this ten months ago, you thought it would be fun to make my life hell?” she questioned angrily. “Do you know how much shit I could’ve gotten done for the company this year, how much money I could’ve made if you hadn’t blocked my funding?”

“Your overblown funding, you mean,” he corrected her quickly. “I actually went ahead and ran your projects through the cost analyses that you were supposed to do, but didn’t do. With your projected costs, none of them would’ve broken even in the first fifteen years. They were good ideas, but that’s shitty business, which is why I felt quite justified in rejecting your proposals.”

“Again, why didn’t you just tell me?” she asked with an annoyed sigh, which he counted as silent acknowledgement of him being right. It was all about the small victories.

“I did. In the beginning, at least.”

Her eyebrows drew together as she contemplated his answer. “You rubbed it in my face that I didn’t get the money I asked for.”

“I’ll admit to getting some satisfaction out of the QC wonder child being bad at one thing, but I did offer to explain the correct process to you and you shut me down. Repeatedly.”

“Because you were being sleazy about it and making it very obviously sound like that was just an excuse to get me into your bed.”

He considered her answer, thinking back to the time her offered his help. “Fine,” he conceded, “my offer might’ve not been entirely without ulterior motives… but it wasn’t for the reason you think.”

“Then why?” She sounded genuinely curious, most of her anger having vanished.

“It was more a ploy to show that the wonder child wasn’t perfect. Show that you had flaws that couldn’t simply be overlooked,” he admitted.

“You keep calling me wonder child. What’s up with that?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. Old habits die hard. “That’s the nickname Thea and I gave you.”

“Explain?” She was surprisingly calm about the whole thing, seeming open and interested in his response.

“I think it’s no secret that my parents like you. They like how smart you are, how mature and ambitious. They think you’re perfect. And they never fail to rub your achievements in our faces. At virtually every dinner it’s, ‘did you hear Felicity did this?’, and, ‘oh Felicity did that.’ They kinda established you as the golden standard of what success should look like, reminding both Thea and me that we’re far from that. And as petty and childish as it sounds and is, it felt good to see you fail at something that for once I was better at.”

Huh, no wonder she called him a jerk. He really was one.

“Wow… of all the reasons I suspected why you disliked me, this one never came to mind.”

They continued their dinner mostly in silence, sipping leisurely on their wines, doing some casual small talk here and there. Only when their waiter cleared the table, taking their orders for dessert, did Felicity break the increasingly prolonged and suffocating silence.

“Why did you tell me now?”

That was a good question. Why did he tell her?

“I don’t know. Because you asked?”

“I never asked before?”

“Not that I could recall, but then, usually, when we talk, things spin out of control pretty quickly.”

“Huh…”

He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for being an ass.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, clearly not having expected an apology. But that was what she deserved and what he definitely owed her.

Not giving her a chance to recover, he continued, “I never truly realized how incredibly stupid my reasons were until I verbalized them just now. It seemed to make sense to me in the beginning, but I now realize just how unnecessarily mean and asinine I’ve treated you just because I have validation issues with my parents. You shouldn’t have been dragged into that mess and your work definitely shouldn’t have suffered because I felt inadequate in their eyes.”

“That… I…” She blinked a few times, grasping for words. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“Well, luckily our desserts are coming, so you don’t have to say anything,” he chuckled, feeling lighter than before, like this apology was something that had just been weighing on his chest, waiting to get lifted off.

And even beyond that it felt weirdly liberating to have everything out in the open. He was honest when he said he’d never realized how bad his behavior had gotten until he replayed everything in his head and said the explanation out loud. It was stupid and really childish, and he really couldn’t blame her if she didn’t accept his apology.

“I’m sorry, too,” she finally blurted out.

“I really don’t see what you could apologize for,” he pointed out, confused. “You’re kinda the victim in all this. I mean, you were always confronting me at work and pushing my buttons and swamping me with useless budget proposals, but other than that you’re the innocent party here.”

“Not entirely. I…”– she hesitated –“… retaliated.”

“You… what?”

“I might’ve been responsible for your computer troubles, and your phone crashing all the time, and I kinda hacked your car’s onboard computer to only play holiday music during the summer.”

“That was you?”

“Mhhmmm…” she hummed, pursing her lips in semi-guilt and semi-mirth, before squeezing his hand. “I am sorry, though,” she quickly assured him. “Admittedly, only after hearing your reasons for being a dick— before that I felt quite justified. But I get disappointed parents who hold you to an unattainable standard and expect things from you. So, while I don’t approve of you taking out your grievances with them on me, I do kinda understand it.”

“And I understand why you felt the need to retaliate,” he assured her with a smile, still a bit baffled that she was behind his latest tech troubles.

“Did we just agree on something?”

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?”

She just hummed in response, slowly withdrawing her hand from his.

“So, where do we go from here?”

“We could try to be… friendly?” he suggested with a shrug.

“Friendly?”

“Yeah, you know, stop with the getting in the way and stepping on each other’s toes at every turn thing, and start being civil with each other.”

“I’d like that,” she said after thinking about it for a second.

“Good. Me, too.” He raised his glass of wine. “I’m guessing toasting to being friends would be a little presumptuous.”

She clinked her glass against his, a beautiful smile playing on her lips. “To colleagues who don’t hate each other anymore and may turn into friends in the future.”

“That’s a mouthful, but I’ll definitely take it.”

⁂⁂⁂ ARROW ⁂⁂⁂

One year later

As per usual around this time of year, the Queen Mansion had been turned into a winter wonderland, tastefully and ornately decorated to reflect Moira Queen’s impeccable taste. Maybe the most surprising thing about this party, considering all the fanfare on the grounds, was that it was a super lowkey, albeit insanely exclusive, affair.

She’d been surprised when she’d gotten an invitation, despite Oliver’s very excited announcement a few days before the arrival of the formal invitation. This wasn’t just any Christmas party. This was the Queen Family Christmas Party. From what she’d heard, the guest list usually didn’t exceed 60 people and typically consisted mostly of family and very close family friends.

So why was she here? Because she’d become really close friends with Oliver over the course of the last year, ever since their grandmothers had set them up for a blind date. It had started out cautiously, both of them unsure how to handle their new dynamic. But soon enough, smiles and nods while passing each other in the office and civilized work discussions had turned into her taking Oliver up on his previous offer to teach her about the budget proposal process and all the pesky, little, but necessary analyses and documents. Even after he’d moved on from the accounting department a few months after their blind date, he’d kept giving her advice and she’d kept running ideas by him.

When he started his new position as VP and, as a consequence, they didn’t see each other as often anymore during the day, they started going to lunch together a few times every week. That turned into movie nights, cooking at home, merging their groups of friends, and just hanging out together for the biggest parts of their free time.

So, maybe calling them really close friends wasn’t really cutting it. They were best friends. And as unbelievable as it would’ve sounded a year ago, she couldn’t and never wanted to imagine a life without Oliver in it.

“You’re here,” Oliver’s voice greeted her before she could even knock on the door.

“Of course.” She stepped on her toes to hug him tightly. “You’ve hyped this day up so much in the past weeks that I have rather high expectations now.”

“And they won’t be disappointed, I promise. Today will be awesome.”

“Well, then lead the way,” she said, finally disentangling from him. “Where can I put my stuff?”

“Right.” He clapped his hands together, buzzing with excitement. “You can leave your coat on. We’ll just put your things in my room and head right outside for the buffet.”

She pressed her lips together, watching the glint in his eyes. “You’re really excited, aren’t you?”

He licked his lips, his wide grin softened into an honest smile, eyes twinkling with happiness. “I’m just really happy to have you here this year.”

This sappy sucker! Going around melting her heart.

She stepped up to him again, pressing her lips against his jaw. “Shall we get this party started, then?”

⁂⁂⁂

A few hours later, party in full swing, Felicity was having the time of her life. Christmas might not have been her holiday, but the Queens sure knew how to make it a joyous occasion for everyone.

The afternoon had started with coffee, tea, and a huge buffet of cakes and all sorts of Christmas cookies set up in a spacious, beautifully decorated tent out on the grounds. The guests had mingled in the relaxed atmosphere, all adhering to the informal dress code Moira had mandated.

After a couple of hours of mingling in the warmth of the tent, some of the guys had gotten organized into two teams to start the annual backyard pond hockey game. Snuggled into her thick coat and with a steaming mug of mulled wine between her fingers, Felicity sat down on a bench close to the ice, watching Oliver glide effortlessly over the slick surface during warm ups.

Damn, that man could rock a Christmas sweater.

“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jenna,” a beautiful brunette woman said, plopping down next to Felicity.

“Oh, hi. I’m Felicity,” she greeted with a polite smile and turned back to the ice.

“So, which one is yours?”

“Excuse me?”

“Which of the guys is yours?”

“I…” She looked at Jenna questioningly.

The other woman huffed out a breath. “My husband, Stuart, is the guy in the brown sweater and my son is the little guy behind the goal back there.” She motioned to a young boy of about 9 or 10 who was surprisingly steady on his skates. “Who are you cheering on?”

“Oh, uh… guy in the green sweater,” Felicity said.

“You’re Oliver’s girlfriend?”

“What? No. Noooo, god no,” she quickly denied with a snort. “We’re friends.”

“Riiiight.” Jenna nodded with an arched eyebrow, clearly not believing her.

The game started, saving her from any more flailing justifications of her friendship with Oliver. Because that’s all there was. Friendship! Not that she wasn’t used to people assuming there was more –that happened all the time when they went out together— but it was just people’s small mindedness when it came to the old notion of men and women being incapable of being just friends.

Sure, their own group of friends joked all the time that Oliver and her routinely acted more like an old married couple, but that just spoke to the familiarity and trust they had in each other, okay?!

And, okay fine, they might’ve had some close brushes with trampling over the line when they’d had a little too much to drink, but they’d always stopped themselves before anything could happen. And either way, they just had a very tactile and trusting relationship. Uhh, friendship!

A pained yell, followed by sickening thud, ripped her out of her musings and she focused back on the ice where a huddle of players had formed around another player that was lying on the ground. A player in a dark green sweater. Shit! Oliver!

She bolted up from her seat, eating up the distance to the ice, only slowing down when she slipped and almost crashed. Sliding to a stop next to Oliver’s prone body, the ice beneath her knees digging right through the thin layer of her pants.

“Oliver? Oliver!” she urged, cold fingers skidding over his face. “Come one, wake up!”

“Miss?” a voice behind her asked. “Could you please take step back? I’m the Queen family physician.” When she scooted back enough for him to take a closer look without letting go off Oliver’s hand, the older man she recognized as one of the guests turned to someone else, “Andrew, could you please keep pressure on that wound?”

Wound? What wound?

Finally ripping her worried gaze from his pale face, she let her eyes wander down his body, frantically looking for any visible injuries. Her stomach dropped when she reached his thigh where another man was pressing against a wound, his hands covered in blood.

No, she couldn’t lose him.

He had to be okay.

She wasn’t sure if she made a distressed sound, but the doctor turned his eerily calming gaze to her, giving her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Miss, he’ll be just fine. The wound isn’t too deep and the fall just knocked him out. You should have him back by your side in no time.”

⁂⁂⁂

She was tired. God, she was so damn tired.

Oliver had woken up after only a couple of minutes of being unconscious, but to treat the cut on his thigh, left there by the blade of someone else’s skate he’d collided with, he’d been given a mild sedative and local anesthesia.

It had only been about half an hour since the accident, but it felt like hours had passed. She felt drained of all energy. So completely exhausted from worrying about him.

For a second, seeing him lying there, unconscious and pale, lifeless, she’d thought the worst. For a second, her best friend was gone.

For a second, the man she…

The man she… what?

No, don’t do it, Felicity. Don’t be a cliché. Don’t be one of those people that needs a tragedy to realize how they really feel about someone.

Even though, technically, that wasn’t quite the case. She definitely knew how she felt about Oliver. She’d just never admitted it out loud, because that would open a Pandora’s box of epic proportions. She really couldn’t go down that road. Not with his baggage. And her baggage. And the fact that they still kinda worked together. It was just unthinkable, the notion of them being together, so why think about it at all and agonize over one-sided feelings that would never be reciprocated?

“F’licity?”

“I’m here.”

“My head hurts,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

She traced his cheek with her fingertips. “I know. Try to get a little more rest, okay?”

“Mhhh,” he hummed, his eyes blinking slowly open. “You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine”— her fingers stilled on his skin —“just focus on yourself, alright?”

“Always think of you,” he mumbled, turning his face into her touch, letting first his stubble and then his soft lips drag along her fingers. “Sorry for scaring you.” He was becoming a little more lucid, keeping his eyes open a for a few seconds at a time.

“And how would you know you scared me and probably took five years off of me?” she asked, unable to hide her smile.

“Because I know you,” he sighed. “You always worry about me.”

“Yes, and my sanity and life expectancy would appreciate it if you never scared me like that again,” she scolded him gently, tapping his nose.

“I’ll do my best.”

“You better. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“I’ll always be with you,” he whispered with a dopey grin, sleep dragging him back under. “Stay with me?” he asked, moving the edge of his blanket out of the way, making space for her.

For the life of her, she couldn’t resist. There were very few things in this world that were better than falling asleep in Oliver Queen’s arms, so she wasn’t about to pass on his invitation.

“Rest, Oliver. I’ll be here.”

⁂⁂⁂ ARROW ⁂⁂⁂

1 week later

New Year’s Eve.

His favorite excuse to get drunk and make out with random women.

At least it used to be.

Now, it was a different story.

He’d come to appreciate the occasion for what it was: the end of one year and the beginning of a new one. An evening of dreams and hopes and endless possibilities. Especially, tonight.

Wow, when had he turned into such a sap? And when did he stop minding that he was?

“You look dapper,” Felicity greeted him. Yup, there was his answer.

He turned to her, trying and probably failing to school his features at the sight of her. “And you look beautiful,” he told her, bending down to kiss his best friend’s cheek in greeting, not missing the slight blush his words provoked.

“Always sweet-talking,” she teased him, straightening his tie with practiced ease. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing, really,” he sighed, wisely deciding not to tell her about the numerous attempts of some of the guests of hitting on him in not so subtle ways. Whenever she witnessed that kind of behavior around him she always rolled her eyes, showing those tiny sparks of jealousy.

“You’ll work yourself to death one of these days.” He was only half joking, mostly genuinely worried that all the overtime she’d been clocking this year was finally going to take a toll on her health.

“You know me, when I get in the zone I can’t help myself,” she played off his concern.

“So, I’m guessing you won’t make a new year’s resolution to work less next year?”

“I will actually,” she told him, with a smirk, knowing full well she’d managed to surprise him.

“Really?” Yeah, he’d only believe that when he saw it.

“Really. Don’t sound so shocked. I’m well aware that I’ve been stretching myself thin this year,” she said, entwining their fingers. “I got swept up in the excitement of the new project and focused most of my time on it. I know I still got to spend plenty of my free time with my friends, but I also noticed that I said ‘no’ more often than before because some nights I was just too tired or still stuck in the office. I’m determined to make a change next year.”

“Does that mean I’ll get to spend more time with you?” he asked cheekily, happy to hear she did actually have every intention to take better care of herself.

“If you play your cards right.” She smiled up at him. “But I gotta warn you, Cait has already claimed every second and third Friday of the month for girl’s nights.”

He frowned. “That’s a lot of Fridays.”

“It is,” she agreed. “But I’m open for negotiations. If you can make me a better offer, I might reconsider.”

“I do believe I have the better wine. And I’ll cook for you.”

“Mhhh, that might just do the trick.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Tommy cut in from the side, looking not even a little sorry for the rude intrusion, “but I just had to come over and tell you how ravishing you look tonight, Felicity. You clearly dressed to impress and I for one am very impressed.”

“Tommy,” Felicity acknowledged his unwelcome arrival, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly at Oliver for his best friend’s typical comment, “always a pleasure to see you.”

“Don’t sound too enthusiastic, Ms. Smoak. I know I’m interrupting your little”—he gesticulated at them wildly—“thing, but my mother has asked me to make myself useful and ask someone to dance. Since my girlfriend ditched me on this joyous occasion for a weekend with her friends, I thought you’d be the safest option in this pool of pariahs.”

Oh, buddy.

“Did you just call all these women here pariahs?” she asked with narrowed eyes, very clearly displeased by his choice of words.

“I know that sounds bad,” Tommy allowed, but plowed on, “but you haven’t been here to see how they’ve been circling us with calculating eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on the juicy, fresh pieces of premium steak they think we are.”

“What a terrible burden it must be,” she mocked. “How do you possibly survive being treated like nothing more than a piece of meat? What a horrible thing to do to another human being… Whatever will you do about all this unwanted attention?”

God, Oliver just loved this woman for not letting either of them ever get away with comments like that.

Tommy shifted uneasily, pursing his lips. “You’ve made your point, Smoak. No need to rub it in further. I apologize for my insensitive comparison.”

She smiled brightly at him, patting his cheek. “There may be hope yet.” Turning to Oliver, she held out her clutch. “Can you please hold this while I help Merlyn with his duties?”

“Of course. I’ll be over by the bar,” he said before watching them take off to the dance floor. When Tommy turned around mimicking the motion of cracking a whip towards him, he only dignified it with an eye roll. Jerk.

⁂⁂⁂

Hours later, the party was in full swing and, once again, he found himself in a secluded corner, while Felicity had been whisked away to the dance floor by yet another man. Wasn’t that the theme of the evening? He’d honestly lost count of how many guys she’d danced with after Tommy.

It was 11.40 and he was getting antsy. He had a plan and with every minute that got them closer to midnight, his nerves flared up a little more. And not just his nerves, but also his doubts. Should he do it? Should he risk it? Should he abort his mission like he’d done half a dozen times in the last few months?

Oh, to hell with it.

He was done with this giant ‘what if’ looming over his life. It was time to make a change.

With that thought fueling his confidence, he made his way across the dance floor, tapping Felicity’s current dance partner on the shoulder. “Hey, may I cut in?”

The other man grumbled, but stepped away when Felicity gave him a nod.

Standing in front of her now, in the middle of the dance floor, not moving, felt a little weird, but he didn’t come to dance with her. Not yet. “Hey, can I steal you away for a second?”

“It’s almost midnight,” she reminded him with a frown, cocking her head, trying to figure out what he was up to.

“I know. Just trust me.”

She let a beat pass, pursing her lips. “Fine… Where are we going?”

“The roof.”

“The roof? Oliver it’s freezing outside.”

“We’ll grab our coats. It’ll be fine. Just trust me.”

She sighed exasperatedly at his dodgy behavior and he knew that she wanted to protest some more and prod him for information to solve the mystery he presented her with, but she finally relented. “Fine, lead the way.”

Alright, show time.

She’d only protested mildly when they’d taken the stairs to the door that led to the roof. When they stepped out of the building a brisk gush of cold air caught them, making them both shiver and tighten their coats.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Alright, you know I’m not good at keeping silent. What are you up to, Queen?” she asked, taking his outstretched hand despite her impatience. “This better be good, I’m freezing my ass off.”

He didn’t say anything, leading her to their right, bringing his surprise into view.

There was a beat of silence before, “Uhm, Oliver?” Her voice sounded hesitant. “What is this?”

“My surprise?”

“Oh-kay…” she drawled out, apparently unsure what to make of this. “And you want to me to check if this is okay for your date?” There was something in her tone that he’d rarely heard from her in the past year, ever since they started being friends: annoyance.

Het let his eyes glide over his setup in confusion. With Thea’s help he’d brought up a plethora of blankets and pillows, arranging them in the middle of a sea of little lanterns that were twinkling in the dark night. Next to the blankets was a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses, as well as some of the party’s hors d’oeuvres to snack on. Wasn’t it abundantly clear what he was trying to do?

“Uhh, what?”

“You brought me here to see if this was romantic enough for whomever you plan to bring up here?”, she inquired, her tone nipping.

“What? No!” He stared at her, completely bewildered. Did she really not piece this together on her own? “This is for you.”

A beat of silence.

“Me? Really?” She stared right back, eyes wide with confusion. “Oliver, this is clearly meant to be some sort of romantic gesture.”

“Yeah, it is.” He huffed out a frustrated breath. God, okay, he could admit that this didn’t go as planned and maybe he did this all wrong. “It’s for you. There’s no one else I wanted to bring up here. Just you.”

“But… why?”

Man, she was really making this a lot harder than he’d anticipated.

“I thought this would be a romantic setting to ask you out. You know, watch the fireworks from up here. Ring in the new year.” That was generally considered romantic, right?

“Ohhh.” Her eyes widened.

“Yeah,” he sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I see now that I should’ve maybe used more words to set this up, but I can do that now.” He turned to her, taking her hands in his. “Felicity, I know we had kind of a weird start with our little feud in the office and then our grandmothers setting us up on the blind date, but I feel like we’ve come a long way since then.

“You’re one of my best friends and I’ve realized over the last few months that I feel a lot more for you than just friendship. So, I was wondering if maybe you felt the same and if you’d like to go on a date with me. A real one this time. No meddling grandmas.” He smiled brightly at her, hoping she could see how serious he was.

She stared at him for a few, long, excruciating seconds, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times without any sound coming out.

She was clearly surprised by his words, but it was the next emotion that crossed her face that made his heart plummet. Apprehension.

Well, shit. She was going to turn him down.

“I like you, Oliver,” she finally whispered, frantically looking for the right words to break his heart. “I really do. I love having you as my friend.” She wiggled one of her hands out of his grasp, laying it flat against his chest, as if that could somehow prevent his heart from breaking into little pieces. “I just… I don’t see you… us… as something more. I don’t think that would work. We don’t fit together. We’re so different when it comes to relationships, the idea of you and me being in one seems pretty unthinkable.”

Unthinkable.

She thought they were unthinkable.

That sounded really damn final.

He closed his eyes, willing his mind and body to keep his disappointed reaction at bay. “Right… uhm…” he trailed off, unsuccessful in his search for words.

Oh, shit what had he done?

Had he really misread her this much? How could he have misjudged their situation like this?

God, he felt like throwing up.

“Oliver.”

He cleared his throat, reluctantly opening his eyes. For the first time in the almost two years that he’d known her, he dreaded the sight of her.

He pasted on a smile that he knew must‘ve looked fake as hell, but it was all he could muster. “It’s… okay, Felicity. I thought you…” He let go of her other hand, bringing it up to scratch his forehead, and cleared his throat again. “I thought there was more, but I guess I… was wrong.” So very, very wrong.

She looked at him with sadness, a hint of doubt in her eyes that would’ve probably given him hope if she hadn’t been so clear a few minutes ago.

“I… I’m sorry, Oliver.”

That coaxed a semi-bitter, semi-disbelieving laugh out of him. “For not feeling the same way? Don’t be.” He meant that. He’d never want her to feel obligated to lie and respond in kind just to please him. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“No, Oliver, that’s not-“

He cut in, not feeling like he could take her pity, “Can we just… can we just forget the last ten minutes ever happen?” Oh, god, was his voice really quivering as much as it sounded like? “I don’t want my stupidity to hurt our friendship.”

His vision started swimming as the thought of just having lost her manifested in his mind. Being rejected when asking her out was one thing, but completely losing her friendship because he’d put her on the spot, now that was unthinkable.

“Can we please just forget about this?” he pleaded.

She looked like she wanted to protest, but pressed her lips together and nodded.

Good, with any luck, at least there might be a chance to salvage their friendship.

“Come on, I’ll bring you back to the party,” he said, voice still heavy with emotion, but soldiering through.

Once again, she looked hesitant, like something else was burning on her tongue or she might have second thoughts. But she swallowed it down, nodding again and followed him to the door to the staircase.

The walk down to the party was painfully silent and he was more than glad that as soon as they reentered the big, festively decked out conference room, Felicity got whisked away by someone from her department. That gave Oliver the chance to finally take a breath.

With one final look at Felicity across the room, he turned on his heels and went back up into the staircase, tracing back his earlier steps. There was just no way he could be in the same room with her right now, not when all his dreams about them had just crashed and burned so spectacularly.

The wind seemed to greet him with a fiercer bite when he stepped out on the roof for the second time. The cold immediately crept inside his suit, making a shiver run down his spine, but he welcomed the slight burn on his skin this time.

His gaze landed on the setup he’d carefully assembled. He was supposed to be lying there with Felicity, cuddled up, sipping champagne, counting down the minutes to midnight.

Supposed to…

How had everything turned into such a crap-show so quickly?

Tonight was supposed to be a good night, damn it.

One minute, he was happy and hopeful, on the verge of dating the woman of his dreams, and in the next, he was alone.

He plopped down on the mountain of blankets, letting his back hit the cushioned ground, staring up at the night sky. The clouded darkness refused to offer him any answers to his questions.

How had he misread the signs? How had he convinced himself that Felicity had feelings for him, too? And how the hell was he supposed to put this behind them? How was she supposed to put his unwanted advances behind them?

He’d been so caught up in his new-found optimism and feelings for this woman that he never really stopped to consider what kind of an incredibly awkward position he’d put her in. Yeah, sure, he’d considered the possibility of being turned down, but somehow that situation never looked so fucking devastating in his mind. He’d imagined it would hurt and make things a little weird, but the reality felt so much worse.

He felt lost, unsure, confused, disappointed, angry at himself. A tiny part of him was even angry at Felicity for not feeling the same, even though he knew that wasn’t fair. People couldn’t be forced to love someone.

Fuck, he’d been so sure that there was something brewing between them. They’d become close pretty quickly and he thought he’d figured her out. Thought he knew her and her tells. Thought he knew how she behaved when she was attracted to someone. But tonight just proved how foolishly wrong he’d been.

Maybe he could go on a prolonged business trip to put some time and distance between them to help make things less awkward. Maybe after a few weeks they could put this behind them and move on. Not that he thought he could just turn off his feelings like that. But he could try. He had to try if he wanted to salvage their friendship. And he did. Life without Felicity was no longer an option. Even if all she would ever feel for him was friendship.

The first thunderous crack and a bright, colorful flash of fireworks going off high above his head ripped him straight out of his thoughts.

Midnight.

Happy New Year, he thought bitterly.

If tonight was any indication of what 2018 would look like, he already dreaded the next 365 days with a vengeance.

He heard the scrunching sound of the gravel that covered the rooftop, alerting him to someone’s arrival. Probably Thea who’d known about his plans and probably wanted to know if he chickened out again after she spotted Felicity at the party when she was supposed to be up here with him. Gosh, he really wasn’t in the mood.

Slamming his eyes shut, he waited for his sister’s disapproving voice to rip into him, but instead he only felt someone sit down next to him. Hey, she was smart, maybe she’d put the pieces together and decided to take it easy on him.

“Oliver.”

That was most definitely not his sister. And it was most definitely the last person’s voice he expected to hear. Felicity.

Ripping his eyes open, he quickly sat up, indeed faced with his blonde friend.

For just one second he felt hope surge through his body until he remembered what she’d said: unthinkable.

One word was enough to crush whatever hope he had left.

Felicity grabbed his hands, clutching them in her shaking ones, and he had to use every ounce of willpower to keep from pulling away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sadness and guilt so goddamn clear in her voice.

He laughed bitterly. “Don’t. Please don’t. Literally the only thing that could make me feel worse right now is to get your pity.”

“And what about an apology?” she asked quietly.

“Felicity,” he sighed, getting increasingly frustrated with her. This just felt like she was pouring salt in his wounds. Couldn’t they just move the fuck on? “I told you you have nothing to be sorry for. You don’t feel the same way, and while that does hurt to hear, it’s okay. It sucks. It really, really sucks, but it’s okay. I’ll get over it, I promise! I just need a little bit of time.”

“That’s not…” she sighed, running a hand through her locks. “I lied.”

He looked at her with a frown etched into his forehead, not understanding what she meant.

“Earlier… when I said I didn’t see us as something more, I lied.”

What?

He swallowed hard, willing his brain to catch up and comprehend what was happening. “I don’t understand,” he finally breathed out.

“I panicked. You completely caught me off-guard with this.” She motioned around. “I mean, I really didn’t see any of this coming. Not in a million years. I’ve spent the better part of this year convincing myself that there’d never be more between us. That we’d only ever be friends. That you’d only ever see me as a friend.

“So, when you asked me out, I was so shocked I panicked. I used every defense mechanism I had just in case you were just joking or I was reading into things or this was just one of those spur of the moment things that people come up with when alcohol is flowing and everybody around them is happy and in love.”

“So, you’re saying…” What was she saying? That she felt more for him? That she wanted a do-over? That he wasn’t clear enough with his intentions earlier and she’d misunderstood?

She took a deep breath. “I’m saying that you were right. There is more between us.”

“I… So… Are you sure?” he stuttered, still unable to really catch up with what was happening.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said, voice so damn steady and sure that he was inclined to believe her, and yet…

“But then why…”

“Because I panicked. Because when you said you felt more, all I could think about was all the different ways I could get hurt. And I know that’s selfish and you didn’t deserve that, but that’s just what happened.”

“I’d never purposely hurt you, Felicity.”

“I know,” she insisted, grimacing. “But then I remembered how my ex told me the exact same thing, and a few weeks later I found him in bed with another woman. And that made me think of some of the things I’ve read about you, and even though I knew it wasn’t a fair comparison, it still stuck.” Her words were slipping out quicker, her breathing unsteady. “I mean, deep down I know you’re not like Billy and I know you’re not like party boy Ollie Queen anymore, but there was still this little voice of doubt and insecurity in my head that I stupidly decided to listen to instead of what my heart was telling me.”

“And what was your heart telling you?” he asked with bated breath.

A smile tugged at her lips. “That none of my doubts or deep-seeded insecurities changed the fact that I’m in love with you.”

He sucked in a breath. Did she just…? Holy crap, she did.

“Felicity…” Please don’t let this be emotions and guilt running high, making her feel like she had to say it.

“No, I’m not just saying it now to make you feel better or because I feel guilty for hurting you earlier by lying to you,” she answered his question before he could even ask, quickly adding, “Even though I do feel really bad about that and I’m sorry.”

She tugged on his hands in emphasis. “I’m telling you because it’s the truth. I don’t really know when it happened, but sometime during the past year I fell in love with you and for too long I let my insecurities and doubts hold me back. I had myself absolutely convinced you’d never see me as more than just a friend. And even if by some miracle you did, that we still wouldn’t work out.

“But now, I’m just so done with living with all these questions and ‘what ifs’ that keep me from living my life to the fullest,” she said with a hopeful smile. “I wanna take this jump with you. Figuratively speaking, obviously, because you know I’m terrified of heights.” That elicited a knowing laugh from him. “I love you,” she continued, more serious, “and I want to be with you and I’m done holding myself back.” The more she spoke the steadier her voice became, until she added, a little more shyly, “If you’ll still have me, that is.”

He blinked a few times, letting her words wash over him, carefully sifting through the onslaught of information.

That was a lot to take in.

First things first, she loved him. As in, she was in love with him. She said so multiple, leaving no doubt in his mind that she was telling the truth.

Second, she was scared because of their individual pasts. That was what held her back before, worrying about ‘what ifs’ and ‘could bes’.”

Third, she wanted to throw caution to the wind and try a relationship with him. She wanted to be with him.

She cleared her throat, licking her lips. “Or you could… think about it,” she said, voice quivering ever so slightly with worry. “Yeah, just think about it. I’m not going anywhere. And I understand that after what I did earlier you need some time to consider this.”

She slowly drew back her hands from his, and only when he was no longer touching her did he realize how long his reaction was taking him.

He breathed out a huff of laughter, suddenly overcome with happiness and the realization that they could be together after all. He leaned forward and framed her face with his hands, not wasting any time, bringing their lips together in a sweet kiss.

He could tell she was surprised by how she momentarily went completely still, her entire body frozen, before she caught herself and her lips started moving against his in a slow torturous rhythm that had him this close to begging for more.

One of his hands trailed down her neck, following her arm down until he found her waist where he pulled her closer, mindful of the somewhat awkward, twisted position they were in. He just needed more. He wanted to feel her body against his and make sure this wasn’t a dream. Make sure that he didn’t just drink the entire bottle of champagne, pass out, and conjure up a universe in his drunk mind where she didn’t reject him.

Her fingernails lightly digging into his scalp made him pause. Holy shit, this was real.

He drew back, putting a few inches of space between them, watching as her eyes sluggishly blinked open. Full blown pupils filled with desire met his. They were both breathing heavily, the rapid puffs of air visible in the sparsely illuminated night.

“Felicity,” he breathed out, dipping back in for another kiss against her now slightly swollen lips. He smiled into the kiss, beyond happy that he could do this now.

She pulled back this time, cradling his head in her hands. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she teased, licking her lips.

Oliver smirked at her. “You can take that as a hell yes,” he corrected her, pulling her closer once again, and this time she helped, hiking up the hem of her dress so she could straddle him. “I love you, Felicity,” he murmured just before their lips met again, slower this time with the knowledge that they had all the time in the world. “You’re crazy if you think that I’ll ever think twice about being with you now that we have everything out in the open. I love you,” he repeated, delighted by how easily the words rolled off his tongue.

“Mhhh,” she hummed against his lips, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. “I love you, too. Thank you for forgiving me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I sprung this on you completely out of the blue and didn’t consider how much pressure I’d put on you. I’m sure I could’ve found a better way to broach the topic a little more delicately.”

“Just for the record, I do appreciate how much effort you put into this. Who knew you were such a romantic?” she said with an adoring smile, kissing him once more as a reward for his efforts.

He drew back a little, shaking his head and letting out another disbelieving chuckle. What a rollercoaster of a night. He’d gone from cautiously hopeful to devastated to insanely happy. However bumpy their road to this point had turned out to be, he’d do it all again. Even if it were for just one moment of pure bliss like this one with the woman of his dreams in his arms, telling him she loved him.

He let himself fall backwards, Felicity following him, never letting more than a few inches between them as she settled on his stomach, her hair falling like a curtain around his face. “Say it again,” he murmured, already addicted to those three little words tumbling from her lips and the content little smile accompanying them.

She closed the gap once more, immediately knowing what he wanted to hear. “I”—she pressed her lips to his—“love”—another kiss—“you.”

He grinned into the kiss before deepening it, caving into his desire and letting his hands roam over her body. God, he could do that now. He could touch her like this. A realization Felicity had apparently also arrived at, if her wandering hands were anything to go by.

A particularly loud bang from a firework right above their heads startled them apart, both breathing heavily.

“Mhh,” she hummed, shivering slightly, “maybe we should continue this elsewhere. Someplace warmer and more private comes to mind.”

He grinned naughtily at her. “I have a few ideas how to warm you up.”

She chuckled. “I don’t doubt that, but I’d much prefer to continue this in a bed.” She frowned for a second, before amending, “No, actually, I’d just prefer to be in one of our apartments. You can choose the surface.”

He growled, reaching up to kiss her again. “I have so many suggestions, but a warm bed with you in it sounds damn good right about now,” he whispered, also starting to feel the cold night air chilling him to the bone.

Neither of them made any move to get up though, lost in each other’s eyes for a few more peaceful moments of pure and utter happiness.

“Happy New Year, Oliver,” she murmured, sealing her words with another kiss. And god, there was so much more in those words. An unspoken promise of everything that was to come, of so much hope and happiness.

“It will be,” he promised, knowing in his heart that together they’d make this an incredible year. And just the first of many. “Happy New Year, Felicity.”

⁂⁂⁂ ARROW ⁂⁂⁂

“To a job well done,” Gloria Dearden said, raising her martini glass in a celebratory toast.

Freida Smoak was all too happy to clink her own glass against that of her close friend. “It took a little bit longer than anticipated, but I’m very pleased they finally saw the light.” She took a sip of martini, before adding, “Should we tell them that the whole lost poker bet was just a ruse to set them up on a date?”

Gloria shook her head. “I think the better question is what will we do to make sure they don’t take too long to give us great-grandchildren?”

“Well, considering the snail’s pace it took them to go from their first date to being together, we should get started sooner rather than later. We’re not getting any younger, after all.”

“Then let’s get cracking. I already have some splendid ideas.”

“Bring it on, sister.”

⁂⁂⁂

[papercrownxyz]

The Truth of Now

Jour 71 - 14 Décembre 2020 - 11h58

These past days have been quite transformative. Weirdly enough, the feeling of writing in English kicked in today, almost naturally. As if somehow, my native language was not enough to express my rawest feelings, where language is just a bridge, a vulgarization of what I feel. This feeling is probably helped by the fact that I consume an enormous amount of content in English, from (audio)books, to articles, to YouTube videos. Most of my self-recordings are in French, but I often end up switching in English after a while, missing these key, very specific words in French.

J. and I met this weekend, Saturday more specifically. We spent a really good time together, mixed between intense feelings, a sexual meditation practice but also long and deep discussions. About me, about her, about Us. About my retreat, my initiation to Yoga, my Reiki session, my discoveries and deepening of energies, my feelings afterwards, my psychologist session, my realizations. About her wounds, her reactions, her learnings, her new perceptions of life, of men, of where she’s putting herself in jeopardy for no apparent reason than instant gratification or attention.

She’s done an incredible work on herself, I can see her taking distance, separating herself from the mask(s) she’s wearing, from her relationship to men that might harm her.

I’ve done my own work also, from my awakening last month to meditation, reiki and psychologist sessions. It’s been a ride, and it’s just the beginning. The psychologist sessions clearly showed me an imbalance between my feminine and masculine energy, my own relationship to Océane and her disappearance, too early, too brutal, too ignored.

What bugged me lately was the lack of clarity in my relationship with J., as we’re still exes on paper, meaning we owe nothing to the other one. Yet, we’re still seeing each other for discussions, for exchange, for fun, for mini-dates, for cuddles, for sex. We’re behaving as a couple in construction could behave, yet we don’t have “the discussion” that might clarify everything. I expressed my Truth, topic I’m obsessed about lately, probably because of my Reiki experience combined with the Jordan Peterson content I’ve been absorbing. The Reiki session ended up with my coughing like a madman mid-session, when she had her hands on my throat Chakra, the communication one. A quick memory of my mute grandfather popped up, filled with darkness, dark grey and black energy. Since then, after sharing this with J., I did realize that I wasn’t fully honest with myself and probably with others either, and promised with myself to never lie again, to not warp my reality for the sake of preventing any potential harm in the moment. This cognitive dissonance clearly hurts people, and the one lying the most ; I’ve seen it with my own story with L. 4 years ago, where the consequences are still to be felt until now.

The blur, the fog is clearing, little by little between us. I do realize the progression of it, and the ambiguity is slowly fading. I see the completion approaching, the finish line is now in sight. That’s the homestretch, often when we’re trying to give our all to finish strong, to double, triple-down on the potential, beating the iron while it’s hot because we just want closure. It’s tempting, but rushing things won’t do us any good.

I’m teaching myself to probe my own Self as often as I can. “I wake up, I feel, I do” she was saying a few weeks back to D. Words to live by, somehow. “I feel”. My current feeling is that it’s too early. We’re both enjoying our separate freedom and space from each other, our newly respective apartments still in construction, our real way to finally grow apart after being intertwined for the longest time ever. She’s in her place for 13 days now, that’s nothing in the scale of things. Literally nothing. I still have stuff belonging to her, our lives still are intricated, like a DNA helix where branches revolve around each other infinitely §. More or less distant, this is what we did for these past 6 years, where sometimes we should’ve maybe just be straight lines for a while, crossing from time to time ; a bit like early Dublin life, not where we were just on each others, with very little independency, where co-dependency was the untold and undecided rule, despite us.

My Truth of the Now yesterday was simple, and I simply explained my feelings about it: a part of me wants to control the outcome, and I’m acknowledging this part but not following it. Controlling means not letting go, and not trusting the Process. The other part is the trust I’m putting in the Process, taking things slow, leaving the liberty, freedom and space to both of us to evolve freely, while discovering if there’s a match, if we’re worth another ride, once again.

I tortured myself yesterday with this question - what splits us from being a couple again? Sexual exclusivity? Voicing this might just make her run and trigger her childhood wound of Rejection, often responded by panic + withdrawal. Her independence need is generally so strong that once threatened, she just reacts immediately. If I do something, she does something else. If she does something, I would need to pick another activity, to have my own originality, my own thing, not hers, even though it doesn’t impede on her mental or physical territory. This must be approached with care, and I’m so glad she’s now aware of these automatically triggered reactions with her. If one day, I’m asking this question: “What are we? What do we want to become? Do we want to make this somehow official? What are the rules? Are there rules?” or any variants of these, I must make it clear that our/her Independency, with a big I, won’t be threatened. It’s not because we set up some ground rules that she must change something, that she must feel she owes me clarity about her days, about her life, about what she’s up to at every second and with who.

That’s where the segway to what I initially wrote first in this article came up: I’m not satisfied from my own Self yet. Past the mundane tasks and vane things we do on a daily basis, there’s this time we need to reflect, to take some height, to see, observe in hindsight what we have missed, what can we improve, what can we embrace that we suck at, and that after all, is fine to just be average, sometimes.

I’d rather live up with controlling an additiction of controlling myself, than living with a mediocre Self for another day.

I haven’t grown fully the way I wanted these past months. I’ve done a tremendous psychological, philosophical and spiritual job, I must admit. My friends, acquaintances and colleagues don’t understand much how I’m still positive with all of this, but I’ve put in the work in the shadows, far away from “look at me, I have a cool life”. I’ve played a bit the Insta-stories game, I’ve indeed shown more of my social life than I used to, way beyond my secluded, solo-Self from these past 4 years.

But activity wise, I’ve been shy, even absent to my own standards. Nowhere is to be found the Emmanuel I wanted to become physically, but also on a daily routine basis. I’ve created a crazy routine I haven’t even honestly tried to attempt.

I said to myself in early October that I must change the man I am, the Being I represent. I have already done a huge mental step forward, now is the time to be honest with my own Self and honor him, become proud and have a real, honest attempt at what I can become. No matter the outcome, become my real Self, my honest Self will clear the fog of what I will be, and will know if Julie has a place in it.

She doesn’t have a fixed, clear place in my Life right now because I’m not changed, I’m not enough, I haven’t changed the way I wanted. My routine is the same as 60+ days ago, and is barely scraped. Only my future Self will know if J. has a place in my future, and even though my current Self realizes that the work done pleases me, I’m still unaccomplished, unfinished, unrealized, unsatisfied.

My future Self will know when the Truth of my future Now will need to be expressed, will make sense, will sense that the time is Now and cannot be postponed.

Only then, I will make the decision to open up the discussion about Us, only when the Man I truly believe she deserves can potentially stand by her side, not my Self from my present Now.