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aliscntcrres · 5 months

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ALISON TORRES ( MELISSA BARRERA ) is a THIRTY FIVE year-old PURCHASING AGENT AND FINANCIAL ADVISOR in NEW YORK CITY. They were brought under Richard’s care when they were only FIFTEEN years old. They are known as THE GUARDIAN because they are GENUINE but also HEADSTRONG.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Alison Torres

Nickname(s): …… Alison. Don’t call her anything else.

Date of Birth: December 31st 1969

Age: 35

Gender & Pronouns: cis woman and she/her

Occupation: Purchasing Agent and Financial Advisor for some big fancy firm that is remaining unnamed because I haven't decided what it's called yet

Current Residence: Penthouse apartment in the Upper East Side, New York City

Pinterest <3

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: Very dark brown, basically black except in some lights. On the longer side but always well looked after and styled perfectly. Mostly worn down unless she's exercising or stressed out.

Eyes: Deep dark brown baby

Height: 5’6

Notable Features: Resting bitch face, abs, strong brows, and those gorgeous dark eyes

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR:

Strengths: Genuine, Honest, Organised, Ambitious, Intelligent, Loyal, Confident

Weaknesses: Headstrong, Closed-off, Judgemental, Cold, Competitive

Quirks: Perfect posture (most of the time), tapping her nails against things

Vices: Definitely drinks and smokes regularly. But sodas?? Candy??? Fried food??? Get fucked she’s not touching that shit!!! Her body is a temple!!! - Also has an absolute potty mouth <3

INTEREST & HOBBIES:

Interests: Wellness, fashion, money <3, crime drama shows, language studies

Hobbies: Tennis and fitness in general, various different puzzles, chess, reading

Special Skills/Talents: Analysis especially financial, languages, puzzle solving

BECOMING A WARD

Alison first met Richard at a small academic gala that she and her high school debate team were invited to as a result of winning the national championships. She showed incredible academic promise being the only freshman on the team, and she absolutely used that to her advantage at this gala. By the age of fifteen Alison was very aware that the only way she’d get anywhere in this world was if she worked and schmoozed for it. Every academic scholar in that room was Alison’s target, including Richard Woodrow. What surprised her was when Professor Woodrow actually took some kind of interest in who she was. She fell into a conversation that was far harder than any of the schmoozing and connection forming she had been attempting with everyone else, but it was far, far more genuine. She revealed the circumstances that had led to her parents no longer being in her life (circumstances i am purposefully leaving out of this intro because i think that most of the wards wouldn’t know teehee), legally fostered by a family friend though never feeling as though she had an actual place there. How dedicated and legitimately talented she was with her academics with the goal of creating a life for herself that she had to carve out. That she didn’t imagine herself with limits despite her life, because how would she get anywhere if she did. When Richard’s offer came some weeks later Alison was, of course, deeply skeptical. As far as her experience went, things like this weren’t handed out without a string attached. She did her research on Professor Woodrow– going so far as to write a letter to the university where he taught to ask for a letter of recommendation. However the thing that finally convinced her to take the offer of becoming his ward was when she met the staff of his estate. The people that worked for him. To be honest, people she saw more like her than like Woodrow. Their opinions of Richard Woodrow were the only ones that mattered in the end.

LIFE AS A WARD

Alison became a ward when she was 15 and had spent a majority of her life alone– so to change at that age was strange. Coming to Woodrow House was like attending a weird new school and with that mindset she was always dedicated to her studies, a sort of line in the sand with the intention of protecting herself from emotional vulnerability. This was an opportunity and if she didn't make the most of it she'd failed in someway. However something she came to understand was that a part of this opportunity, a part of being the first ward, was also in her relationship with the others.

DYNAMIC WITH THE OTHER WARDS

Alison is not, and has never been, a traditional caregiver. She's not a mother, she's not nurturing, she's not soft. But her role as the first ward is hugely important to her, both in setting some kind of example and in looking out for all the others. She cares deeply, and she tries with all her heart to make sure the others are okay– if they can’t be happy, they have to be okay. When they were all younger, most living at the house, Alison made sure she knew a little of everyone’s schedules, of everyone’s interests, of everyone’s habits. All so she could notice when things were off, and she could plan an approach if she believed one was needed. She kept track of important events for them all, always having a diary full of birthdays, significant dates, big assignments. Something all the wards might remember is that she always made sure to note the day they came to the house. In various sorts of ways, but generally all very small as the time was likely traumatic for many of the other wards. A small gift, their favourite breakfast, making sure they get a moment in the day to just be alone if that’s what they needed. A lot of these things have followed her into adulthood. She checks on all of them regularly (regularity depending on each ward and how much Alison believes they need checking in on), sometimes perhaps it seems like she’s bossy and judgemental and inserting herself into their business– and hey, she sometimes is! But it’s because she wants what’s best for all of them. I believe all of the wards know that if they need something, if they need help, Alison would help them. There’s absolutely no promise she wouldn’t judge them, but she wouldn’t hesitate to help.

AESTHETIC

Alison dresses somewhere in the line of fashionable, sexy, rich bitch with a corporate job. Which is exactly what she is. Borderlines being conservative by being sexy as hell. Plenty of I could be going to the office, or I could be going to the club– you’ll never know! The only difference is a blazer! I looked largely at Ralph Lauren and Prada late 80s and 90s runways for inspiration. Almost entirely neutral tones, I know it’s the early 2000s but you will rarely find her in a colour. Simple and tasteful jewelry, two items she’s always wearing are: a golden crucifix necklace that she’d had since childhood, and a Tank Louis Cartier watch with a black leather band that was gifted to her by Richard when she completed her masters. I can’t describe any more so here��s a pinterest section <3

EDUCATION

Alison attended private schooling when she became a ward but received further tutoring at the home as well. For her, the entire purpose of becoming a ward was to further her education and she took that very seriously. She intended on making the most of the opportunity, and reaching for every branch that was held out to her. Including going on to university following her secondary education. She went to Richard’s alma mater, Kingsbury College, majoring in business and finance. Continued on to do her masters in finance also.

EXTRACURRICULARS

Alison played tennis from early on in her ward-ship. Perhaps subconsciously being drawn towards a sport that required someone else to play against as she began to abandon her childhood solace. As mentioned previously, she also studied plenty and enjoyed it enough for me to call it an extracurricular. Enjoying her extra tuition in languages especially. Her mother tongue is Spanish and she learned English as a very young child but since becoming a ward she also became fluent in Russian. An ambition that came to light after one person said it would be hard. She also has bits and pieces of French, Italian, and Latin. The final thing I’ll say here is that Alison loves a puzzle. She enjoys both the solitary kind like sudoku or crosswords, but also loves some chess– so long as she wins teehee.

THEIR LIFE NOW

When Alison graduated high school it had only been three years since she became a ward. Maybe it was a feeling of needing to stay close to the house for the other wards, maybe it was something selfish of not wanting to leave behind the first easy, comforting thing she really knew. Maybe it was both. But regardless, as a result she didn’t go far. As mentioned she attended Richard’s alma mater after finishing high school, close enough that her presence in the home could still be felt. Returning to the house every weekend or every other weekend. Her first "serious" job was with the Woodrow Foundation. Getting her start there and doing good work as she continued to work on her degree. At least for a few years before she left a little abruptly. Moved on to bigger and better things. Certainly she continues to support the Foundation entirely, promotes it by simply having lived her life, but it’s very important to her that she doesn’t lean on it. Richard Woodrow helped her so she could achieve great things on her own, not so she could work for him – at least that's what she says. But she continued to work hard, regardless of where or who she was working for and that certainly shows in the life she continues to lead. Alison lives in New York City but ever since she moved out she has regularly visited the Woodrow House. Less so as all the wards moved out but still every now and then to check on whoever remained, including the staff and Richard himself. Considering how solitary of a life she lives outside of the Woodrow House, her home is ridiculously large by comparison. A four bedroom penthouse in the Upper East Side. All of the rooms are maintained no matter what, just in case any of the wards need a place to crash. If she's away for whatever reason she'll make sure a housekeeper comes through to keep them up and the lobby of her building has instructions to allow any other ward up at any time, but to always notify her. But if there's no wards, and presumably most of the time there's not, it's just her and her 12 year old chihuahua named Benito in the big, soulless apartment.

#if you see that i repeated myself multiple times in this ..... close your eyes !#wrhq.intro #intro ;#about ;

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julieverne · 2 years

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"I think I'm going to start dating women for a while," Maura said casually, not looking up from her journal. Jane's head snapped up from the baseball cards she was resorting.

"Why? Has it got to do with Dennis, because I can promise you not all the men you date are going to try to kill you."

"Not really," Maura said, turning the page. "I'd always meant to get around to it, and maybe I'll be a better judge when it comes to women."

"Ok," Jane said, watching Maura suspiciously. "And you're telling me because?"

"Would Angela have an issue with it?" Maura asked seriously. "I don't want to make her uncomfortable."

"No, she got pretty excited when Giovanni told her we were dating. She thought I'd landed myself a doctor."

Maura nodded. "Pizza?" she asked, as though the topic wasn't worth further discussion. Jane nodded and dialled. When she hung up she watched Maura for a long moment.

"Why are you telling me?" Jane asked. "You coulda asked Ma yourself."

"It seemed fair to give you first refusal," Maura said, still not looking up from the journal. Jane could see the cover; there was a special analysis of mucus in this one.

"First refusal?"

"If you'd ever wanted to date me," Maura said shrugging. "You could ask now. If not, Alexandra has someone she's been dying to set me up with." Maura sounded so... blaise about it, as though she was asking what they were having for dinner rather than asking if Jane wanted to date her. Jane shrugged when Maura looked up, got the pizza.

"What makes you think I want to date you?" Jane asked, halfway through a slice of pizza.

"I thought it might be insulting if I didn't offer. I'm not well-versed in best friend etiquette."

Jane nodded as though that made sense.

---

Hannah this, Hannah that. It was all Jane heard at work, that and the buzz of Maura's phone, the pink blush across Maura's cheeks as she read texts, obviously from Hannah.

"Would you like to meet her?" Maura asked. "I'm bringing her home to meet Angela tonight."

Tonight was so soon, but Jane nodded, looking away. If Jane was Maura's best friend, if Maura dated a woman, would she become Maura's best friend? What would Jane do? Where would she find a new best friend? Jane sighed. She'd been spending a lot of nights alone, more so than usual when Maura was having a fling. They hadn't had dinner together since that pizza a month ago. Jane was lonely. She was just lonely. She should look for a new best friend.

---

Hanna wasn't what Jane had been expecting. She'd expected Maura to date a woman like Maura, from society, rich and well-dressed and professionally ranked. But Hannah had been none of those. She worked for a foster care organisation that Hope helped out with somehow, and she'd shown up to dinner in clean jeans and a graphic tee with a flannel on top, half of her red hair shaved, the other half down past her shoulder.

"Maura tells me you're a homicide detective," Hannah said, and Jane nodded. She'd seen Maura flush and giggle earlier when Hannah had whispered something to her before dinner. Angela had clearly approved, but Jane was undecided.

"And that you're a Red Sox fan."

"It's Boston, who isn't?" Jane asked, sounding gruffer than she'd meant to. "You following the series?"

"Yeah, Plantz is really coming through on goal," Hannah enthused, and Jane felt the tension leave her body as they started enthusing over the last game.

---

"I'd better go," Jane said a little later, earlier than she'd usually leave. "It was nice to meet you."

"I'll walk you out," Maura said, getting up as well. Hannah remained seating, Jane noticed, and tried not to flex her jaw.

"Well?"

"She seems nice," Jane shrugged.

"Is she a serial killer?" Maura asked, looking nervous. Jane laughed.

"I don't think so," Jane said. "I didn't like Dennis, I didn't know why but maybe I'd been picking up on something. She's nice. She's sweet." Jane remembered how Hannah had put her arm around Maura earlier, felt her jaw flex again. "Goodnight," she said quickly, making an escape.

---

Jane felt like a third wheel more often than not. She found herself making excuses not to hang out with Maura because Hannah was usually there, and although she'd only seen them kiss once, it was more than enough for Jane. She'd always thought she wasn't homophobic, but this bothered her, so maybe she was. Frost's mom's didn't bother her like this, though. Maybe it was that she felt like she'd lost her best friend. Maybe she felt like Maura didn't want her around anymore. Maybe it had been the completely blissful look on Maura's face when Hannah kissed her. Whatever it was, it was too hard. Especially with everything with Casey recently. Jane felt like she was never anyone's first choice; Casey going to Afghanistan, Angela picking Maura's side in arguments, and Maura choosing Hannah over Jane. With none of the men Maura or Jane had dated had their relationship changed this much. It was only now, with Hannah, that they'd drawn apart. Maura seemed happy, and that made Jane happy, but she thought back to that night, where Maura had offered her first refusal and she hadn't answered. If she had, would things have stayed the same? The dinners, the sleepovers, the constant contact between them. Would Maura have looked at her like that if Jane had kissed her?

Jane sighed, then looked up at a knock on the door. She opened it, surprised to see Maura. Maura had a key. Maura never knocked. Maura looked like she'd been crying. She stepped inside and Jane shut the door behind her, ushering her to the couch where Jane put a supportive arm around her.

"She said I talk about you too much," Maura said, starting to cry again. "Everyone I date always says that, but she said it like a... like an accusation. I said we work together, we spend all our time together, and she said it was weird that I live with your Mom." Maura started crying for real, and Jane pulled Maura in against her, let her cry against her, arms rubbing her softly until she could talk again. "This is why I put off dating women so long. They can be so judgemental. She said it was like being in a threesome without the extra..." Maura trailed off, and Jane could almost hear her blushing.

"You need me to go talk to her?" Jane asked. Maura shook her head.

"No, it's not her fault. I could have talked about you less. I mean, I couldn't, but I should have been able to once I knew it was bothering her."

"Well, did she try to murder you?" Jane asked, and Maura chuckled.

"She did not," Maura confirmed.

"Well, that's a good start."

"I really liked her, but she wanted me to choose. I really liked her, but I love you. I don't know how to make space for anyone else in my life," Maura said sadly.

"Ask again," Jane said.

"Ask what?"

"The refusal, ask again."

"Oh. But that was first refusal."

"Then this'll be the second. Technically I never answered."

"Jane, I think I'm going to start dating women for a while. I feel it's fair to let you know in case that's something you might be interested in." Maura took a deep breath, finished what she should have said the first time. "Because I would be interested. In. Dating women that are you," Maura faltered. Jane smoothed Maura's hair.

"I needed a little while to think about it. I missed all our dinners and brunches and weekends and time together. If I'd known, I'd have never let you get set up with Hannah."

"Is that a yes?" Maura asked, her voice very small.

"It's a 'your girlfriend just broke up with you', ok? Give it a few weeks, make sure it's not just the rebound talking and..." Jane shrugged. "Are you staying?" Jane asked softly, "as a friend," she added quickly. Maura nodded, and Jane smiled against Maura temple.

#rizzles #rizzoli & isles #rizzoli and isles #jane rizzoli #maura isles #rizzles fanfic

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finniestoncrane · 2 years

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Last one, I promise!

Number 9.

So, I think of myself as a very creative person. I like writing a lot, I make jewelry, baking and I just like making things. I'm also handy with power tools because of various projects. I am also a big fan of solving puzzles and trying to figure out how things work. I'm an up and coming archeologist, and historical/cultural scholar, particularly in relation to how the concepts of magic and mythology shape world cultures and their interactions and developments. I actually plan on teaching a class on that one day.

I tend to collect odd bits (mostly containers for some reason) for projects, and always have pen and paper one hand for when inspiration strikes. When I'm not doing crafty things, I'm listening to music and generally just vibing.

Another thing is that I'm half organized. Certain things are super meticulous (my closet for example. I can tell you where everything is down to the hanger position. I'm the same way with my books.) and other things (mainly surfaces) are in complete disarray. What is organized is generally color coded, and I'm generally color coordinated.

I sometimes like to say I'm the dumbest smart person in the room sometimes, because I can break down complicated things, and have long discussions about various, often college level topics, and two seconds later, ask a very obvious question that should be common sense.

I read a lot, and will often make commentary as I'm reading. It's a whole experience.

I'm the kind of person who enjoys going to art galleries, museums, and aquariums, and just getting to learn new things.

Also, I'm a sucker for coffee dates with long discussions and then hitting the bookstore afterwards.

Probably a lot more information than you needed, but better to give more to provide better material for analysis, than to provide very little, and get something generic. Not that I think you would, I'm just saying that in general.

🎀 No.9: Ever Fallen In Love With Someone 🎀

tell me a little bit about yourself and i'll give you a rogue pairing a/n: flashbacks to me giggling like a little idiot the whole way through the arkham games because ozzie but also, museum dates with ozzie ;-; 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

ok so the first thing that got me was the creativity. i think ozzie is in desperate need of someone to let him indulge in his softer, creative side as an outlet for his feelings, and i think he is secretly very creative, i mean his displays in his museum are so well-designed?

speaking of the museum, boy loves history and culture, i mean he can say that he wanted to display the bodies of his enemies all he wants, but he kept the dinosaur bones and artifacts, he's a little history geek, so having a partner who could run the museum with him and was also clued up on stuff like that would be perfection! and he'd absolutely love calling you "professor" as a little petname

yeah he's a collector too (odd things, maybe not the same as your odd things but... definitely odd...)

ok uhuh, look no judgements here, i am also fuckin dreadfully unorganised in some things and hyper-organised in others. so is oswald. crimes and things? planned perfectly? his museum displays? lovely! his office? looks like a fuckin nightmare like jeez buddy, but the colour coding? the man wears purple everything so he can mix and match key wardrobe pieces, which is just SMART

i think oswald would appreciate your intelligence so much, but there would be something undeniably cute about you being a bit silly, it would give him an opportunity to pretend he was the smart one sometimes

sit next to him in his office and read to him, that would be so soothing, like having some ambient background noise that he actually loves

he's maybe not a book shop kinda guy but for you, he'd do anything to make you feel spoiled!

#finnie1k #finnie writes

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readingloveswounds · 3 months

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Can you share how you outline a paper? I always find it difficult to organise my argument when dealing with complex ideas that don't seem easily "decomposable"...

I can sure try! I've been doing it for a while now, so I'm not sure my process is entirely coherent.

Some background: in middle and high school (and the first couple years of college if we're being honest), I hated outlining papers. Would not write them unless it was a part of the assignment. I've since figured out how to do them in a way that helps me.

For the actual outline:

I usually start outlining once I have a general idea of an argument to make. This goes at the top of the page for now. It does not need to be detailed, polished, or even anything close to the final argument. It can even be '[thing] is weird, huh?'

I will make an outline that is legitimately just a few points: Introduction, Body, Conclusion. This is silly, but it takes away the fear of staring at a blank page. My argument idea can now go in the Introduction section.

Now back to it. If I want to convince my readers of my argument, what background do I need to give? I make a list. What scholarship do I need to reference? Make a list (this will probably change, but sometimes I have an idea). What examples do I want to use? Make a list. These lists go haphazardly in the Body section. Order doesn't matter yet. Detail doesn't matter yet, but if I have any sentences that come to mind or short notes on what I want to do with something, they're welcome, but I don't typically get too caught up in it

Order matters now! I arrange things in an order that I think will be effective - we need to know the background first and then I need to ease us into the theory/scholarship I'm referencing. It'll make more sense to use example x first and then example y, so I'll put those in that order.

Understand that the order can and will change when the rubber hits the road. This is just to get me started.

Example (with the added complication of tumblr not letting me use tab, so use your imagination):

Intro

Background

3 women - show cases - highlight important parts

Discussion - placement in LX - detail -- bloody, child, abject, women as generative

Conclusion

At this point, I have an initial idea of an order I want to have things organized in. For final papers in my courses, I usually wrote more or less in the order of my outline. For the dissertation, I do NOT necessarily write in order of the outline, but rather in order of what makes the most sense. I've done chronological, argument establishment, and passage analysis first. Introduction and conclusion come at the end. I have never ever put detail into my conclusion in the first outline - that often comes over the course of writing.

You mention issues of decomposability - this is completely fair, honestly, and sometimes you have to be juggling a lot in order to make an argument. I think the way I handle this is first trying to just get a basic order in place - it's not necessarily easy, but if I'm trying to teach someone (which really is what a paper is), what do I need to establish in order to make them understand? Force it into some sort of chunks, just for now. Often, in the writing of it, I'll realize that wait, I need to talk about something either now or add it back in where I cut it before or put it somewhere later. For me, it's really important that an outline can be fluid.

I keep it side by side with my writing document, but I'm not someone who adds bullet points and then joins them together. I really just have to start writing.

Another thing - and perhaps the more important thing - is that I make a LOT of smaller outlines. The bigger outline is there to give me a direction, the smaller ones are there to help me figure out the details. Smaller outlines and the big one never meet. Looking back through my notes, a lot of these smaller ones start with "why this?" In these smaller outlines, it's not really a writing roadmap, but rather me working through the relevant 5WH (who, what, where, when, why, how), which helps break things down further - and helps me make sure I understand what I need to explain/cover in the section.

I exclusively hand write these.

An (extremely impenetrable) example:

What are you trying to establish? how A effects readers

why? AL -> because of x/y

who? preface

how? readers, z, spectators (trick)

So really, I make one outline so that I know generally what I want to include and then make a lot of little ones so that I know what I'm actually going to talk about. The little ones happen all throughout the writing process and especially when I'm stuck.

Hopefully this has been helpful - it's taken years of playing around with this to figure out exactly what works for me. Thinking of it as something that not only helps you but also helps your eventual reader understand what you want to say has helped a lot. I think what I struggled with in the past was sort of an implied stability/unchanging-ness of the outline, so making a million and knowing that they're adaptable has also been good.

#my answers #the problem is that it's part of The Process now so i don't really think about hOW i do it #but meta-learning is important so i have tried

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bespokesoftwaredevelopment-blog · 11 months

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The Role of Technology in Evolving Healthcare Delivery

The impact of technology and machine learning in healthcare delivery cannot be overstated. From wearable devices and e-consults, to virtual reality and Internet of Things, medical advances are snowballing thanks to our growing understanding of tech.

This hasn’t always been the case, of course. While technological advances have impacted healthcare for centuries, the global pandemic forced the world to become more innovative and digital than ever before. Never in the history of the world has so many healthcare organisations, people and data come together to drive healthcare forward at a rate we never could have anticipated before. UK doctor consultations taking place online rose from 13% in 2019 to 48% a year later, and there was an acceleration equivalent to 7-years in the speed at which digital healthcare solutions were being offered. While the pandemic may have slowed, the tech certainly hasn’t, making way for a digital future of healthcare.

Here’s more about how technology has evolved.

Improving Patient Care

One of the most obvious and easily evidenced ways healthcare is being transformed by technology is through better patient care and outcomes. Paper based systems have been replaced with Electronic Health Records (EHRs), which makes healthcare communication between clinicians and branches easier, and allows for less manual error. Patients in the UK have been able to access their GP via online consults, text and email – something that was far less available before. Beyond this, patients have become empowered over the last 10 years to take charge of their health by using health apps, wearable devices and trackers, and by having greater access to information about health online. This helps them to detect when there might be a problem, and can even alert their doctors virtually without needing to make a phone call.

Improved Healthcare Processes

Behind every positive patient outcome is a healthcare process that works. The opposite of course is also true. Technology plays a crucial role in making sure healthcare processes are streamlined and effective. Examples of developments over the years include automated appointment scheduling, better communication across clinics, and more efficient medical data analysis and insights. Machine learning allows for faster and more accurate decision making, as well as creating ways to reduce healthcare costs and allowing clinicians to stay focused on patients.

One example of this in action is the use of machine learning in X-Ray diagnostics. The algorithms used in these scanning devices can recognise patterns that indicate a particular disease, which helps clinicians to get quicker and more accurate diagnosis, as opposed to manually scanning images. As we all know, speed in healthcare saves lives, and this is just one example of how hospitals can reduce patient waiting times and work with diagnosis more rapidly.

Learn about how Ficode delivered digital transformation for GP processes with GP Consultant.

Improving Access to Healthcare

As the population ages, and we all get a bit healthier than our ancestors, there’s a growing demand on the health service, resulting in longer wait times and poorer patient outcomes. Technology has been needed to address this problem. Traditional methods, whereby the village doctor would pay you a visit at the first sign of the flu, are long gone. These days, it is common to wait days for an appointment, and 7% wait up to 2 weeks. Mobile health (mHealth) applications have gained traction to combat the issue, empowering patients to access medical information, get medical reminders, have virtual consultations, pick private same-day options, and get prescriptions online. This is particularly beneficial for people who might have problems reaching healthcare facilities due to various reasons.

Read about how Ficode helped Selfily empower patients with self-care for long-term conditions.

Data Security and Privacy

A natural hesitation to going virtual is the concern over data leaks and breaches in confidentiality. Healthcare organisations are therefore, rightly, investing heavily in cybersecurity measures to protect patient information from threats and breaches. Healthcare providers are expected to comply with regulations like the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) to maximise the safe handling and sharing of healthcare data. This post originally appeared on the Ficode website, and we republished it with permission from the author. Read the full piece at: https://www.ficode.co.uk/blog/the-role-of-technology-in-evolving-healthcare-delivery

#web development #bespoke software developers

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cravomarketingus · 2 years

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Every business is unique. A professional organisation should be aware of this and provide you with services that are tailored to your individual requirements. A good corporation should not just get things done, but it must also make its customers happy.

There will be no cost-cutting measures.

It should come as no surprise that employing a corporation rather than a single person saves money. A corporation has a group that collaborates to develop plans and do damage control as necessary. They are a well-synchronized system with transparent pricing. They present you with a list of charges so that there are no surprises later.

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ferrarigays-moved-to-ferrarism · 3 years

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MotoGP 2021: Rider's Championship

Here's a statistical breakdown on the race results and points for each rider in the championship. This only accounts for the riders who were the regular riders throughout the season, so no replacement riders (or Savadori). As I did before, the stats don't really include analysis on why certain riders have certain results (like injuries, older bikes etc.) but rather provide numerical values for the season.

Explanation on the terms:

avg - the average finish in races that the rider finished, DNF's not included median - the median of all the race results, DNF's included wins - the number of wins this season podium - the number of 2nd and 3rd places dnf - the number of retirements ppr - points per race, out of all races finished how many points scored on average * - anything to add, like missed races, team changes etc

This is a long one so click on to read!

1. Fabio Quartararo (278pt.)

avg - 3,82 median - 3 wins - 5 podiums - 5 dnf - 1 ppr - 16,35

2. Francesco Bagnaia (252 pt.)

avg - 4,31 median - 3,5 wins - 4 podiums - 5 dnf - 2 ppr - 15,75

3. Joan Mir (208 pt.)

avg - 5 median - 4,5 wins - 0 podiums - 5 dnf - 2 ppr - 13

4. Jack Miller (181 pt.)

avg - 5,21 median - 6 wins - 2 podium - 3 dnf - 4 ppr - 12,93

5. Johann Zarco (173 pt.)

avg - 6,27 median - 6 wins - 0 podiums - 4 dnf - 3 ppr - 11,53

6. Brad Binder (151 pt.)

avg - 7,82 median - 8 wins - 1 podiums - 0 dnf - 1 ppr - 8,88

7. Marc Márquez (142 pt.) *

avg - 5,5 median - 7,5 wins - 3 podiums - 1 dnf - 4 ppr - 14,2 * missed 4 races

8. Aleix Espargaró (113 pt.)

avg - 7,08 median - 8 wins - 0 podiums - 1 dnf - 5 ppr - 8,69

9. Jorge Martin (111 pt.) *

avg - 7,1 median - 10,5 wins - 1 podiums - 3 dnf - 4 ppr - 11,1 * missed 4 races

10. Maverick Viñales (106 pt.) *

Monster Energy Yamaha MotoGP (9 races + 1 nc)

avg - 7,56 median - 7 ppr - 10,56

Aprilia Racing Team Gresini (5 races)

avg - 14,2 median - 16 ppr - 2,2

Complete season:

avg - 9,93 median - 9 wins - 1 podiums - 1 dnf - 0 ppr - 7,57 * missed 1 race, one race not classified, team change

11. Enea Bastianini (102 pt.)

avg - 9,6 median - 10,5 wins - 0 podiums - 2 dnf - 3 ppr - 6,8

12. Pol Espargaró (100 pt.) *

avg - 9,73 median - 10 wins - 0 podiums - 1 dnf - 2 ppr - 6,67 * missed 1 race

13. Álex Rins (99 pt.) *

avg - 8,75 median - 11,5 wins - 0 podiums - 1 dnf - 5 ppr - 8,25 * missed 1 race

14. Miguel Oliveira (94 pt.)

avg - 10,77 median - 14,5 wins - 1 podiums - 2 dnf - 4 ppr - 6,71

15. Takaaki Nakagami (76 pt.)

avg - 11,13 median - 13 wins - 0 podiums - 0 dnf - 3 ppr - 5,07

16. Álex Márquez (70 pt.)

avg - 10,25 median - 13,5 wins - 0 podiums - 0 dnf - 6 ppr - 5,83

17. Franco Morbidelli (47 pt.) *

Petronas Yamaha SRT (8 races)

avg - 12 median - 14 ppr - 5

Monster Energy Yamaha MotoGP (5 races)

avg - 15,8 median - 17 ppr - 1,4

Total season:

avg - 13,46 median - 17,5 wins - 0 podiums - 1 dnf - 0 ppr - 3,62 * missed 5 races, team change

18. Valentino Rossi (44 pt.)

avg - 13,47 median - 14,5 wins - 0 podiums - 0 dnf - 3 ppr - 2,92

19. Luca Marini (41 pt.)

avg - 14,44 median - 15 wins - 0 podiums - 0 dnf - 0 ppr - 2,28

20. Iker Lecuona (39 pt.)

avg - 13 median - 16,5 wins - 0 podiums - 0 dnf - 6 ppr - 3,25

21. Danilo Petrucci (37 pt.)

avg - 13,85 median - 17 wins - 0 podiums - 0 dnf - 5 ppr - 2,85

#motogp #motogp 2021 #motogp statistics #motogp 2021 statistics #as always more analysis/organisation on this coming later!

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martianale · 3 years

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how you might study, based on your mercury sign

aries/1H -> very determined, consistent in learning. they decide what subjects they should study based on their gut feeling, they study what they want because they always know what's better for them. always very focused. may start studying some things on impulse, but if they're not interested they don't go on. in groups of students, they're very competitive, being the on first place with their results will help them be motivated to study for better results.

taurus/2H -> you may prefer to simplify your lessons, make sketches out of them. you don't really care about learning what you don't like. if someone tells you to study something you don't care about, you get stubborn about it because you prefer to be focused on what you think it's best for you since it may bring you comfort, even if that subject may not be the most suitable for you. might be hard for them to start studying something, but if they get started they're consistent and focused.

gemini/3H -> studies about 1974937483 different things at once but still manages to have good results, quick learners. may love to study with other people and have better such situations after studying with friends. good at grasping info without taking notes because their mind is so active that they may memorise everything that is told during a class. it can be easy learning anything for them even if they're learning so many things! even if they are superficial sometimes, they still end up with good results later.

cancer/4H -> they have to be surrounded by calm teachers to comprehend information and be passionate about a subject. gentleness with them is needed. if a certain subject is taught by a teacher they don't like, they will care less about studying that subject. also especially these people they have to be surrounded with support from their family to continue learning something, or they won't even want to study.

leo/5H -> their notes may be very creative/ dynamic. unlike taurus, they may prefer to sketch out lessons in a creative way. may need to be praised to continue learning anything: they can have good results when showing off what they learned and they get praise, which is what keeps them going. good results can also come from having lessons simplified, because they can form another points from the ideas given. love being challenged to learn something, even if they're not interested in that topic.

virgo/6H -> might want to know the details beyond what is taught. studies things earlier. they have very organised notes. sometimes they may have to even look deeper into the details for better results, they are more sure that they get good grades if they look into detail, despite that they know the whole lesson. good at analysis and can learn things quickly even if they go into detail.

libra/7H -> easily gather a lot of info, because they're curious learners. however, it may be difficult for them to stay focused on one subject. libra placements might procastinate a lot as they focus on what's best to learn by constantly compating the topics. however, they can get great results whith a tutor or while studying with many other people, especially when the companies are warm people.

scorpio/8H -> also very focused learners, might learn anything whther it's detailed or not. best results when they're studying something they're passionate about, but can also have good results at anything, really, because they are motivated & determined most of the time. they want to get the best out of everything they study. they aren't that bothered by the details and do their best to learn them, unlike aries.

saggitarius/9H -> can start learning 19479284838 things but don't get these done, sadly, because they might always learn things on impulse and then there's always this subject that attracts them and then they forget about everything else they did. they have the best results when they're motivated and they're helped to have their knowledge expanded. sag mercuries are so willing to learn many different things, but can't be that consistent if they're not motivated to stay on ONE subject or try to organize themseleves so they do everything efficiently.

capricorn/10H -> exactly, they may be perfectionists in everything they learn. they may not have a particular subject that they're passionate about, but they always get the best results because they're perfectionists. they might not bother about styling their notes, they're good with simple notes, as they prefer having everything simplified.

aquarius/11H -> they prefer to learn in an detached way, on their own. they're fine without a group of friends or a tutor. they always sketch their lessons in a logical way so they comprehend things better. might love associating everything with theories. literally might learn easier through technology or other sources. however, they might be rebellious about learning what they don't like even if they're quick learners.

pisces/12H -> might have to illustrate their lessons in order to learn them better. since they daydream so much, they might have difficulty remembering information straight up from a lecture. since mercury is in its detriment when in pisces, some things may be confuisng to them but you'll get the hang of them anyway. like cancers, if you're not in a good mood, you can't grasp information easily. when it comes to learning to something you don't like, you have a tendency to procastinate a lot.

NOTE! take what is accurate for you. i'll make another post for this where i'll be adding up more things based on house overlays and aspects to other planets so stay tuned :]

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titularkilljoy · 3 years

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sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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zazzander · 3 years

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Octavian and Camp Half Blood

Looking for more? Here's my master list of Octavian analysis.

Right. So this topic was a doozy to say the least. Octavian's choices, statements, and what we hear about the Greeks are either vague or inconsistent. And for a character that we don't get a lot of time with or insight into, that's really frustrating and not a great writing decision.

Much of this hanging, fundamentally, on the fact that Octavian allows Percy to join the legion. So let's discuss.

Octavian Knew About the Greeks Before Percy

So, on some level, Octavian knew about the Greek camp prior to Percy’s arrival. Not only that, but he has discussed it at length with members of the legion. The people who were apart of this discussion include Hazel, which seems like an odd choice since Hazel isn’t supposed to be in the same circles as Octavian.

But moving passed that...

Let's talk these two quotes.

“The old ways…” Hazel had heard rumours about Greek demigods. Octavian believed they existed and were secretly plotting against Rome. But she’d never really believed it, even when Percy came to camp. He just didn’t strike her as an evil, scheming Greek. [Son of Neptune]

Then later,

‘Another camp,’ Hazel repeated. ‘A Greek camp? Gods, if Octavian found out –’

‘He’d declare war,’ Frank said. ‘He’s always been sure the Greeks were out there, plotting against us. He thought Percy was a spy.’ [Son of Neptune]

Originally, I thought Octavian didn't know about the Greeks until Percy arrived, and he just make assumptions based on legends, prophecies and his own prejudice. But I think that's the case anymore, at the very least it's not that simple.

Here was have two general ideas: one told by Hazel and one by Frank.

Hazel knows that Octavian has long believed the Greek demigods exist and if they are secretly plotting against Rome, then that implies they are working together in some way. Potentially as a 'camp' though Octavian likely never used the word, as he would associate with an organised military camp not a summer camp. She also states that she didn’t believe him when he said they existed. Even when Percy arrived.

This reminds me of Octavian’s belief the Sibylline books were still around. He wasn’t believed, especially by Reyna and Hazel, and it turns out he was right. Octavian has been prove right twice now.

I want to point out as well that Hazel is cut off in the second quote. It’s not guaranteed that her words would be ‘he’d declare war’. That’s Frank’s assumption.

I would have loved to know what Hazel was going to say. Because I think she knows more about Octavian than she lets on (emphasis on think here, there isn't a lot of little evidence that Hazel and Octavian weren’t strangers; but I believe it is there).

Now, the idea that Frank gives just reiterates what Reyna told Percy. So it can assumed that’s where Frank’s comments are coming from. ‘He thought Percy was a spy’ comes from Reyna, via Percy. That’s easily explained.

All the Romans were Biased at One Point

But [Hazel]’d never really believed it, even when Percy came to camp. He just didn’t strike her as an evil, scheming Greek.

This one is interesting because it’s not that she believes Greek demigods are evil, it’s that Percy can’t be one because he isn’t. If Riordan intended this implication isn't obvious. It might just be some clunky writing. Still interesting.

We also have:

You are a hero of Rome. And while you slept Jason Grace has learned to trust the Greeks. They’ve had time to build the Argo II. Together, you and Jason will unite the camps.’

The phrasing here is, once again, notable. Jason had to learnto trust the Greeks. It implies he distrusted them before. Maybe that’s why Juno went with amnesia. Maybe she believed Jason might never trust the Greeks if he remembered from the beginning.

The thing about these types of comments is that for most Romans, the Greek demigods weren’t a thing. So it didn’t matter if they were not to be trusted.

But Octavian knows that Greek demigods exist and the threat they pose feels more immediate to him. It matters that there are old legends because they show the failures of the past. And help prepare the legion for whats coming in the future.

Additionally, I just want to point out that both Jason and Hazel get chances to see another story through the events of the story, thus mitigating any distrust they may or may not have. Octavian doesn't have that. I'm not trying to absolve him here, just show that he's not given much opporunity to see the good side of their ancient enemies.

Octavian's Possible Predictions

Then there is the question of how Octavian knows about the Greek demigods when he’s definitely not supposed to. Especially when the Romans seem to have a bit of a fog regarding their history of conflict. The obvious answer is his auguries. Which explains Octavian connecting the Greeks with Gaia.

"Some believe Greek demigods still exist,’"she said, "heroes who follow the older forms of the gods. There are legends of battles between Roman and Greek heroes in relatively modern times – the American Civil War, for instance. I have no proof of this and, if our Lares know anything, they refuse to say. But Octavian believes the Greeks are still around, plotting our downfall, working with the forces of Gaia. He thinks you are one of them."

Octavian got the information ‘the Greek has arrived’ along with Percy’s arrival. So the final part of this statement is a fact and one gained through the auguries. So, theory, what if Octavian has been told something like Gaia’s influence will lead the Greeks and Romans into battle once more (which is true). And Octavian knows the Romans aren’t aligned with Gaia, so it makes sense to him it would the Greeks. Especially considering all these ‘old legends’ about constant fighting between Roman and Greek demigods. There’s no reason to assume they’d be on the same side, that’s repeated multiple times.

Then Why Allow Percy to Join?

Yet this all calls into question Octavian’s actions at the beginning of Son of Neptune. Without Hazel’s statement about Octavian believing the Greeks existed before Percy’s arrival, I could have accepted that Octavian formed this opinion after Percy’s arrival.

But that isn’t the case. From what we can tell, Octavian knew about the Greeks and was adamant that the two of them were headed straight for another conflict.

Yet, if Octavian hates the Greeks so much, distrusts them in a way that’s supposedly more extreme than the others, why does he let Percy join the legion?

Octavian’s reaction to Percy is really notable. Because he seems more curious than hostile.

“Percy,” Hazel said, “this is Octavian”

“The graecus!” Octavian announced. “How interesting.”

And again,

“Yes, yes.” Octavian finished without looking: “An oath to keep with a final breath, and foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.”

“I - I know that one.” Percy thought thunder was shaking the temple again. Then he realised his whole body was trembling. “That’s important.”

Octavian arched an eyebrow.“Of course it’s important.”

Even here:

Hazel spoke for him. She told Octavian everything that had happened since they met at the tunnel – the gorgons, the fight at the river, the appearance of Juno, their conversation with Reyna.

When she mentioned Juno, Octavian looked surprised.

‘Juno,’ he mused. ‘We call her Juno Moneta. Juno the Warner. She appears in times of crisis, to counsel Rome about great threats.’

He glanced at Percy, as if to say: like mysterious Greeks, for instance.

And, as I’ve said, he lets Percy join the legion. He could have easily decided that Percy didn’t belong, that the omens were bad. And that would have been that. Percy was kicked out. Yet instead,

“Good news!” he said. “Percy may join the legion. We’ll assign him a cohort at evening muster. Tell Reyna that I approve.”

And he even ends the scene with: “Nice to meet you, Percy.”

Like, Octavian’s hasn’t met an enemy here. His rection to Percy 'the Greek' hasn't invoked any spite or malice. And Octavian isn't the kind of person to hide such a thing very well.

I also want to point out that Octavian also, canonically, isn’t a staunch Roman. He doesn’t follow the ‘old ways’ blindly. Most obviously is his desire to make Apollo the patron of the legion. And as I’ve previously discussed, that’s a big deal.

It's akin to Jason’s desire to change the legion’s name to the First and start a new era for the Roman demigods. Which, apparently, almost caused a mutiny. (My theory is that these two things are connected, but that might just be me).

Regardless, it shows that Octavian isn’t the sort of person to blindly follow orders or the intuitions of his people.

My general thought is that Octavian knows he must present himself as a traditional Roman, as knowing and caring about the old ways and legends, helps keep people's trust. If people believe he knows what he's doing, and what he's doing is best for Rome, they are more likely to follow him.

So… maybe Octavian is willing to set aside his suspicions and give Percy a chance to prove he’s not evil. It seems to be the most likely reason why you’d let a supposedly ‘evil, scheming Greek’ into your army. It might be, at this point, there's a chance to stop this war. Juno seems to believe that's the case. So it makes sense that Octavian might have similar ideas.

Basically, with this context, what Octavian is really thinking in this scene is difficult to parse out.

Especially regarding Juno. Because I’ve have assumed he was making the connection between his inability to locate Jason with Juno and Percy’s arrival. After all, if the goddess was planning something, it would explain why he’s been unable to find Jason. Because Jason is with the Greeks, who have been hidden from the Romans by the gods. (Sure, other characters work this out later, but I think Octavian is a little ahead of them here; as he often is).

But then later, Octavian says,

‘One of them is Jason Grace, your old praetor.’

‘Oh, come on!’ Octavian shouted. ‘He’s making things up, now.’

Which implies that Octavian doesn’t believe that Jason has been at the Greek camp. However, it’s possible he’s objecting to the idea that Jason would ally himself with Greeks at all. Which does line up with Hera’s comment that Jason had to learn to trust the Greeks. But it’s certainly ambiguous (like everything involving Octavian).

Regardless, Octavian’s opinion regarding the Greeks, a potential conflict, their connection with Gaia etc. seems to not have fully formed even after Percy arrived. We do have Reyna saying to Percy just before he leaves on his quest,

"Octavian thinks you’re a spy. He thinks you were sent here by Gaia to find our weaknesses and distract us. He believes the old legends about the Greeks.”

But Reyna is not a reliable source.

So let's break it down a little.

Reyna can say ‘Octavian thinks you’re a spy’, because she has spoken with Octavian about. Seemingly in private, since she's telling Percy here.

Based on Octavian’s previous actions and statements, I suspect she’s twisting his words a little. Way more likely is for Octavian to say, ‘he’s probably a spy’ or, more in character:

‘he could be spy! he could be working for Gaia! He definitely shouldn’t be given a mission on which Roman lives depend’.

To which Reyna told him that the senate would decide. Or that Mars requested Percy go on the quest. I definitely think the two of them had an argument that evening before the first senate meeting. And the senate meeting is a continuation of that.

Fast forward to the final battle

And Percy arriving back to Camp Jupiter.

The look on Octavian’s face was priceless. The centurion stared at Percy with shock, then outrage. Then, when his own troops started to cheer, he had no choice expect to join the shouting: “Rome! Rome!”

At this moment / when Percy gets carried on a shield, I think Octavian begrudgingly accepts that Percy & co have pulled through. He would certainly have mixed feelings about it. The heroes are late. They hate him and are suddenly very popular in the legion. And, of course, this means he isn’t going to be praetor.

But he does join in the shouting. Despite what Percy says, he does have the choice not to join, to make a silent protest. But I think he joins in the cheer because, in the end, Percy has saved Roman lives. And they wouldn’t have won if he hadn’t returned.

Then it gets tricky

Let’s break down Percy and Octavian’s exchange post the battle.

Everybody asked for a speech, but Percy didn’t know what to say. He protested that he really wasn’t the best person for praetor, but the campers drowned him out with applause. Reyna took away his probation neck plate. Octavian shot him a dirty look, then turned to the crowd and smiled like this was all his idea.

Octavian knows that Percy hates him. But I think the fact that he is publicly accepting Percy here speaks on the fact that Octavian has accepted Percy is there to stay. And he’s going to need to brace for any kind of fall out. It's true he stil dislikes Percy, of course, but...

He ripped open a teddy bear and pronounced good omens for the coming year - Fortuna would bless them!

I believe this is where things change. Octavian was suspicious before – absolutely. He didn't like Percy. But I think he held on hope that things hadn’t been set yet, which is why he lets Percy join the legion. He’s braced for a betrayal, but he’s willingly to let Percy prove himself. And Percy did.

However, after this moment, Octavian stops acting in this way.

I firmly believe that Octavian is lying about the good omens. Why? Well, we have precedence of Octavian choosing not to tell the legion what he’s foreseen, at least until he’s been able to confer with Reyna.

Reyna’s nails dug into the table. ‘Even the senate doesn’t know the whole truth. I’ve asked Octavian not to share his auguries, or we’d have mass panic. He’s seen a great army marching south, more than we can possibly defeat. They’re led by a giant –’

If my theory stands, which is highly likely considering that Octavian is usually right about his readings and, as we’ll see, changes his story the next day, Octavian got a really bad predication in this moment.

And the reason why I think he doesn’t say anything, why he chooses to lie (and be exceptionally vague!) is because he knows right now isn’t the time to tell everyone this battle will be the first of many. He sees here that whatever success, whatever hope Percy brought, doesn’t matter. The future is unchanged. There will still be a war with the Greeks.

Which means that Percy is still, in all likelihood, a spy. The narrative rushes passed this (of course) ...

He passed his hand over Percy’s arm and shouted: “Percy Jackson, son of Neptune, first year of service!”

The Roman symbols burned Percy’s arm: a trident, SPQR and a single stripe. It felt like someone was pressing a hot iron into his skin, but Percy managed not to scream.

Octavian embraced him and whispered, “I hope it hurt.”

This is the first openly hostile, targeted comment Octavian makes towards Percy. At least as far as I recall. They’ve come into conflict before, but there was a level of aloofness from Octavian. An exchange of wit, not malice. For example,

Octavian smiled. “Already decided I’m your enemy? That’s a rash choice, Percy. I’m a loyal Roman.”

The tone of the earlier is vastly different. And, yes, we could assume jealousy. But I don’t think jealousy is a major flaw for Octavian. However, his fatal flaw being wrath makes him likely to get very angry at the idea of his home being threatened.

So let’s talk about the Senate meeting at the end

“The camp is safe,” Octavian continued. “I’ll be the first to congratulate our heroes for bringing back the legion’s eagle and so much Imperial gold! Truly we have been blessed with good fortune. But why do more? Why tempt fate?”

Octavian is trying to ease the legion into accepting his auguries. Why? Because, I believe, he took his prophecy to Reyna and was rebuffed. And there’s some loaded stuff in what Reyna says in this meeting that I think reflect this. So Octavian doesn’t have his usual semi-ally-kind-of-friend Reyna. Who’s the more charismatic of the two of them. And this is the one time he really needs her backing to win over the senate.

"Just let them land. Hear them out. Jason will back up everything I’m telling you. I swear it on my life."

"On your life?" Octavian looked meaningfully at the senate. "We will remember that, if this turns out to be a trick."

Octavian believes 100%, without a doubt, that this is a trick. And, as far as my theory goes, I believe he thinks Percy also knows this. That Percy is in on the Greek plan. After all, Percy has his memories back now. This would be the time for the trap to get sprung. So he’s prepping the Senate for a response.

As I said, at this point Octavian is probably 99% sure this flying warship is going to attack his camp. He doesn’t know how. He believes he knows why. But really if he does fail to win over the senate (which is likely) and the Greeks do attack, he needs ammunition to turn on the traitors.

Octavian shot to his feet. ‘You need to ask?’ His face was red with rage. He was strangling his teddy bear. ‘The omens are horrible! This is a trick, a deception. Beware Greeks bearing gifts!’

He jabbed a finger at Percy. ‘His friends are attacking in a warship. He has led them here. We must attack!’

This is the true omen. We see Octavian’s rage here, already coming through because with each passing exchange the likelihood of the attack increases. If they don’t destroy the ship first, it will attack them. [Percy’s] friends are attacking in a warship, after all.

‘No,’ Percy said firmly. ‘You all raised me as praetor for a reason. I will fight to defend this camp with my life. But these aren’t enemies. I say we stand ready, but do not attack. Let them land. Let them speak. If it is a trick, then I will fight with you, as I did last night. But it is not a trick.’

I believe both these statements really help win over Reyna. Octavian’s prophecy placed doubt in her mind, because Octavian is under the belief that Percy knows the plan. But then he promises to defend them and fight with them.

Which means she decides:

‘Hold your fire,’ Reyna said. ‘But have the legion stand ready. Percy Jackson is your duly chosen praetor. We will trust his word – unless we are given clear reason not to. Senators, let us adjourn to the forum and meet our ... new friends.’

I want to emphasise how Reyna uses the phrase ‘clear reason’. It implies she has an ‘unclear reason’ – an augury, perhaps?

Octavian gave Percy a disgusted look, then threw down his teddy bear and followed the crowd.

More anger. This time mixed with resignation. And we wrap up Son of Neptune.

Overall,

My idea here is that while Octavian is suspicious of the Greeks and their intentions, he holds out hope that a war between them won’t come to pass. Why? Because he doesn't actually want a war. His principle god is Apollo, who isn't really a war god.

It’s only really near the end when he starts acting with an active, unimpeded hatred. And I believe that’s due to him being ahead of everyone else in terms of events. He has foreseen that Percy's successful integration into the legion hasn't saved them from the inevitable.

He’s aware that the Greeks will attack them, and this effects how he acts and his decision making. Is that a good thing? Probably not. But as we'll discuss later, we get a small hint of Octavian being someone who longs to be able to bend fate. To change the future. Perhaps he's seen too many demigods killed by their own fates.

#it's really hard to make this all make any kind of sense #so you are welcome to disagree on my takes here #because its vague as all hell #heroes of olympus #camp jupiter #octavian pjo #octavian hoo #octavian #octavian analysis #octavian headcanon

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nadziejastar · 2 years

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Any thoughts on Dilan? I was so surprised the Organization left him in Dream Drop Distance (seems like he would have been useful??) and that he was just … normal in KH3. I was under the impression he wanted to be in the Organization and had been voluntarily norted. I also had the impression in Days he had experienced unrequited love and it made him bitter.

I liked your weapon analysis for him a lot btw

Thanks! I thought it was fascinating how much thought was put into those weapon names and designs. I especially loved the Mystery Gear. It absolutely convinced me that Nomura had a much more detailed backstory in mind for all of the members back when 358/2 Days was created. It makes me so sad that we'll probably never get the chance to SEE the backstories for most of them, and the parts we will see will probably be heavily retconned to fit better with the Lost Masters arc. 😩

He is both a fierce warrior and a strategist. He seeks a heart, but despises love and the bonds that tie people together.

Here is how I personally perceived Dilan's personality, backstory, and character arc based on the tiny bits of characterization he gets. There was a very deliberate attempt by the writers to juxtapose Xaldin's opinion of love with Axel's opinion of it. It was foreshadowing that the concept of "love is a weakness" played into both of their backstories.

He has the image of a medieval Chinese military commander. He is excellent at strategizing, and a powerful soldier. I'm sure the players all know that he is a contender for the first or second strongest in the Organisation. I'm satisfied that I was able to depict that strength in his personality, too. I personally really like this character.

Ansem the Wise had always taught his apprentices that darkness could take over their world at any time and that was why he was studying the heart. Then for some reason, after the initial experiment on Xehanort's heart, he decides to stop all his research. After that, the Heartless show up. From Dilan's point of view, the old fairy tale was coming true, just like Ansem had always warned them. AtW was being a weak ruler by ceasing his research. He was not doing his duty to protect Radiant Garden.

As a royal soldier, Dilan felt it was his duty to step up and research the Heartless, otherwise their world would disappear. He was someone who felt the need to be strong and not clouded by sentimentality. He needed to get the job done when the king of their world was too weak to do so. The power of love wasn't going to save them. He needed to be practical. And so, he agreed to help Xehanort with his research.

One of the Royal Guard who keep Radiant Garden safe. His savage looks belie a silver tongue and natural talent for manipulating the hearts of others.

Because he wanted to learn the Heartless' motivations, he participated in an immoral experiment. They needed that data to create the artificial Heartless. I don't think Dilan meant to hurt anyone. His specialty was manipulating people's hearts with his silver tongue.

Narrative-wise, Dilan seemed to be set up as the opposite of Isa. Dilan was a warrior--smart and strong. And Isa was just an ordinary kid who liked Lea a lot--foolish and weak. Saix is so cold and obsessed with strength because he remembers being a "foolish beast" and having his weakness taken advantage of by Dilan as a human.

Watching that foolish beast flail about only deepens my disdain for humans and their incessant need to be pinned down by feelings. We became Nobodies precisely to avoid the shackles of emotion. It was only later that we realized the scale of that loss: that some things simply cannot be done without a heart. Nonetheless, I see nary a pleasant thing about it.

The reason Dilan gave up his heart was to escape the guilt he felt for his role in that experiment. He embraced the emotionless life of a Nobody because he didn't have to feel bad, but the memories still haunted him. That's why he hated the Beast so much. And that's also why he took a long time to recover in DDD when he was recompleted. Now that he had a heart, all those emotions came back to him full-force.

I think it makes sense that he didn't join the New Organization XIII. He only followed Xemnas because he promised them that once they completed Kingdom Hearts, their hearts would no longer have power over them. But once they were recompleted, all of them knew that Xehanort was lying. Dilan was completely done with being used. He wanted to turn over a new leaf. The scene where he broke down when Ansem the Wise returned was meant to show how he was no longer running away from his emotions. It would have been a pretty good character arc...if we'd actually gotten to see any of his backstory.

#kh xaldin #kh dilan

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requiem626k · 3 years

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it only took me watching bsd once all the way through in like five days to know that kunikida is super crazy about organizing to make up for the fact that he feels like his life is out of control :3c

Little Analysis on Kunikida Doppo: What Do His Ideals and Desire to Organise Serve For?

I agree with what you said, only to a certain extent.

Kunikida is always seen with an emerald green notebook on which we see the word “Ideal”. His façade is a ruthless, organised, neat, professional, control-freak, party-pooper, superficial side character who’s only there for comedic purposes next to “complex” characters who have a “proper” and “interesting” past such as Dazai and Atsushi.

Is that really all there is to his personality?

I’ve been experimenting with this man in my mind for months now. Not just out of love, but also out of curiosity.

This man is by no means an insensitive person as he seems. We all saw that in Season 2’s OVA and Season 3’s incident with that girl. In both examples, his cold walls break vis-à-vis a little child and we witness a tender, soft Kunikida who chooses his words so gently and conveys them with the softest smile.

I’m good at magic tricks. Would you like to see some magic?

If he’s someone who understands that a child’s mentality needs to hear these gentle words and someone who’s able to tell her that when no one’s around, why does he insist on keeping his mask?

Even though the manga/anime keeps talking about Kunikida’s ideals, we never get a full list or even a little glimpse until very later. It’s only at the end of the Season 2, during the OVA that we finally explicitly learn one.

My ideal world is not one where people die before my eyes.

It just seems impossible and extremely unrealistic. Funny, even. How could one ensure such a thing? This Kunikida guy must’ve lost his marbles or something. Is he really that blind?

No, he isn’t.

He’s more intelligent than he’s giving away.

When we’re introduced to him for the first time, he uses two words to define himself: “idealist” and “pragmatist”. The first one is pretty understandable, yet what about the second part? That’s where a very sharp contradiction comes in.

Pragmatism [taken from Cambridge Dictionary] : the quality of dealing with a problem in a sensible way that suits the conditions that really exist, rather than following fixed theories, ideas, or rules.

This combination means to me that he always has his ideals touch the ground. He’s perfectly able to recognize the limits of the “reality”, contrary to how unrealistic and exaggerated he’s portrayed as sometimes.

He even painfully acknowledges this during the OVA.

He’s right. That’s just how the world works, and he knows that perfectly.

Which brings us to the original question: Then, why? Why does he insist on organising his view on life through his pragmatistic ideals, if they bring him pain and misery in the long run?

If you’ve read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, you certainly remember the man whose only dream is to go on a pilgrimage to Mecca. It’s one of the Five Pillars of Islam. He saves money since it’s an expensive thing to do, he works and works, and one day, he finally has enough money.

What do you think happens later?

"Well, why don't you go to Mecca now?" asked the boy.

"Because it's the thought of Mecca that keeps me alive. That's what helps me face these days that are all the same, these mute crystals on the shelves, and lunch and dinner at that same horrible café. I'm afraid that if my dream is realized, I'll have no reason to go on living.”

I’ve been thinking of this ever since. Could it be that Kunikida’s reason to go on living thrives off of the very fact that some principal ideals of his are, in fact, unattainable?

These principal ideals I’m talking about are the “selfless” ones which depend solely on the world around him and not on Kunikida himself. His ideal woman, his ideal world- I truly think that the unattainableness of these is presenting a motivating inner force to him. As I said before, he knows perfectly what’s realistic and what isn’t, even though he never admits this vocally, he knows.

He’s a very lonely and sensitive being inside. His walls and cold façade are protecting his soft, vulnerable inner world which is hurt by every single death he’s witnessed and his ideals are constantly there to create a balloon of comfort around him. He defines “reality” as a “cruel, merciless shadow” which has apparently hurt him so much in the past even though we don’t know anything about it yet. His ideals are all part of him, it’s the gasoline to his car, food and water to his body, air to his lungs, comfort to his hurt, defense mechanism to his traumas.

He’s aware of many things. Aware of what his ideals and lifestyle could lead to, both utopia and dystopia.

Yet, there’s a difference that merits being mentioned.

“Winning” has never been his goal, unlike the Azure King.

Even if the path I seek is a parched desert of thirst and suffering, I will continue to seek my ideals!

It’s not whether I can win, it’s about whether I’m willing to fight. Prevailing against myself, that’s what I’ve always done.

He never talks about “fulfilling” his ideals, he always “seeks” them, which again supports what I said in the previous paragraphs. He doesn’t necessarily think that his life is out of control, I think, but he’s using this as something to look forward to everyday, to wake up for everyday. As he chases after them and fights himself for a better version of both himself and the world, he feels home and has a reason to go on until the bitter end.

Such are my thoughts on the matter of Kunikida, his ideals and his desire to keep everything under control.

#req writes #req rambles about kunikida #bsd analysis #i truly hope this makes sense #i feel like it’s all over the place #but i wanted to put together some of my thoughts about him #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo

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missnight0wl · 3 years

Text

Let’s talk about the Cabal. The Rogues theory update

First things first: whenever I talk about “the Cabal”, I do not mean R. I always refer to the Cabal Jacob mentioned in his notebook in Y5Ch15. I explained in detail why he had to mean some other organisation then: here. I really recommend checking it before you continue reading this post below as it’s a relatively short analysis, and it’ll help us get on the same page.

Furthermore, I concluded that the Cabal is probably dedicated to protecting the Cursed Vaults, and that’s why they wanted to kill the siblings. I believe that the siblings are necessary to open the final Vault, so if they’re dead, the treasure should theoretically be safe forever. Also, since they want to protect the treasure, they probably wouldn’t like R who wants the power for themselves.

I know the game keeps using “R” and “a cabal”/“the cabal”/“the Cabal” interchangeably, but for the longest time, I thought it’s either misdirection or Jam City simply changed their original plans once again. I started leaning towards the second option, especially after coming up with “the Rogues theory”, but I’ve been thinking about it lately, and I realised that... the Cabal and the Rogues might be one and the same group.

Now, if you’re not familiar with the Rogues theory, I encourage you to read this post. This one, however, is much longer, so I understand if you want to skip it, and therefore, I’ll give you a summary:

“The Rogues” is the name I gave to a group of three people: Rakepick, the Wizard in White, and Verucca. In my theory, they don’t work for R, or at least they’re not loyal to them. Their real goal is to make sure MC KNOWS R is evil and won’t be swayed if R tried using any kind of manipulation to make MC join them. Now, Merula is truly the mole, and she wanted to join R to be a double agent or some shit. However, the Rogues are aware that she’s just a stupid kid who’d get killed right away, so they staged the meeting in Y6Ch45 to expose Merula. Therefore, Merula has to focus on MC knowing that she “betrayed them” instead of trying to play a hero with R.

Also, Rowan is alive.

And just to be clear, we’re talking about these people:

(Did I simply want an excuse to use this gif again? Maybe.)

Alright, so having these two pictures, you can see they have one thing in common: they don’t like R. Unfortunately, there’s one big difference between them, too: the Cabal wanted to kill the siblings while the Rogues are rather helping them (or at least MC). So, how they could be the same? Well, we just have to assume that something changed in their approach at some point. And the person behind it was probably…

MEPHISTO!

Just kidding. It’s Rakepick. Of course it’s gonna be about Rakepick. Spoilers up to Y7Ch29.

Alright, so here’s the thing about Rakepick: she’s an anarchist. No, really, even Snape called her that after Rowan was put under the Imperius Curse:

More seriously though, when you look at the beginning of Y4 when Rakepick was introduced, we heard quite a bit about her being a rebellious student.

Y4Ch1:

Y4Ch2:

She doesn’t really show much respect to the authorities.

Y4Ch1:

Y5Ch10:

And she doesn’t really like the Ministry.

Y5Ch1:

Y5Ch2:

Sure, in the last example, she has a good reason to doubt the Ministry might be successful, but she also still sounds like she doesn’t think highly of them in general, especially considering the previous scene.

In other words: if I told you that Rakepick wears the “Fuck the system” T-shirt after hours, would it really be that hard to believe?

The problem is that we don’t see much of that rebellious Rakepick later in the story. In fact, I’d say it’s almost the opposite – and I’m thinking mostly about her involvement with R. Moody told us at the beginning of Y6 that she’s a minor member, and we’re supposed to believe that she’s the one at least since Jacob’s time, but… it doesn’t make much sense. Like, am I really supposed to believe that this rebellious and insanely ambitious woman just stays obediently at the very bottom of this silly organisation?

Moreover, I don’t even see why would she want to join R. It’s still the system. And sure, you could say it’s beneficial for her, but… HOW? R didn’t help her get back to Hogwarts – it was Dumbledore himself who wanted her to come. Nothing suggests that R was helping her later on. She did it all on her own, including creating her small army of apprentices. Why the fuck would she need R? Not to mention that it’s just bizarre that R would want to keep her around… I mean, she totally screwed up with Jacob. Why didn’t they eliminate her then?

Now, as you might know, I believe that Rakepick joined R only around Y5Ch20 and a big part of her story presented in the Portrait Vault was a lie. And while it explains some things I pointed out in the previous paragraph, we still don’t really see the rebellious Rakepick. Right? Unless… Patricia rebelled against her family – and it had an enormous impact on the story.

The Eye of Ra and the Rakepick family

So… I know the idea of the Eye of Ra being the symbol of R got pretty popular in the fandom, but… it just doesn’t make much sense. Sorry. I explained it properly in this post (it’s a rather short one again, so I recommend checking it out). In a nutshell, though: there’s enough evidence to believe that Rakepick wasn’t a member of R in Y4, so why would she wear their symbol then?

On top of that, in my opinion, it’d be a bit messy writing decision, to be honest. I mean, we have the Cursed Vaults located at Hogwarts, in Scotland. We have the Dark Scroll connected to Japan. And now the main evil organisation would originate from Egypt? Sure, it is possible. I just feel it’d make more sense to keep things more cohesive. Of course, this one is quite subjective, and my main arguments in this discussion are still the ones in the post linked above.

Anyway, I do believe that the Eye of Ra is connected to the Rakepick family only, seeing that both Patricia and Verucca wear the pin with this symbol. And it means that yes, I assume that they are related. Personally, I think that Verucca looks a bit too old to be Patricia’s mother, and my bet is rather on great-aunt, but it’s not super relevant. The relevant part is that they both belong to the Cabal. And that’s quite important because that’d also explain why Rakepick became a member despite her rebellious nature – because she was born into it. Alright, so what about that rebellion?

A bit earlier, I said that the Cabal wants to keep the Cursed Vaults safe by killing the siblings, right? Well, I believe it might be a fairly recent approach. I assume that at first, they were supposed to protect the Cursed Vaults and everyone involved with them. And by “everyone”, I mean families like Torvus’s who had the arrow to the Forest Vault as an heirloom for generations. Another family could be responsible for keeping the vault portrait etc. The point is that eventually, someone from the Cabal was like: “Hey, instead of protecting them, let’s kill them. They’re gonna be dead, but the Cursed Vaults will be safe forever”. And honestly, I suppose it could’ve been Verucca herself who came up with this idea some years ago. However, Patricia had a different vision…

I never was convinced by Rakepick wanting to get the treasure, so I don’t think it’s as simple as that. But in my own story, she actually wants to destroy the Cursed Vaults, and it can be applied in this theory as well. For her, it’d be a challenge. Still, I imagine that she needs to reach the final Vault to do that, so she’d need the siblings. And this is where her cooperation with Jacob might’ve started. Rakepick needed Jacob to reach the final Vault to destroy it. Jacob, on the other hand, would agree to work with her because no Cursed Vaults means that nobody would try to use him or his little sibling in the future. Sounds pretty fair, doesn’t it?

Of course, the problem was with the Cabal because Verucca wanted to kill Jacob... So, what now? Well, let me remind you of one important line from Jacob’s notebook:

What if Rakepick wasn’t afraid but rather worried – because she didn’t know if Verucca would agree to her plan? Jacob might’ve misinterpreted her emotions. And here’s the thing: you might be a fearless Curse-Breaker, dealing with Manticores, Sphinxes, and whatnot. But standing up to your family? That might be intimidating. Now, I don’t want to compare it to Encanto…. but it’s kind of like Encanto. It might’ve taken years before anybody got the courage to tell Abuela Verucca that she’s not doing the best job. Apparently though, Patricia had to convince her somehow in the end, seeing that MC is still alive (I’m not so sure about Jacob, but I assume it wouldn’t be the Cabal’s fault…).

Oh, and I want to point out that Rakepick being connected to the Cabal would explain even better why R didn’t want her to get involved.

Y4Ch3:

Y4Ch5:

It’d possibly even explain Dumbledore’s claims:

The Cabal and the Cursed Vaults

Let’s move to an explanation of how the Cabal might be connected to Dai Ryusaki. And to put it shortly: very closely.

See, I actually believe that Dai Ryusaki wasn’t that bad at all and that he wanted to protect the wizarding world from his Dark Scroll. That he recognised how dangerous it is and that nobody should use it. I also assume that it is in fact in the final Cursed Vault, we just didn’t deal with it properly at the end of Y6 (so we’re probably gonna return there before the end of the game). Why I believe Ryusaki was innocent, though? Because, like I said before and I’ll keep saying, that’s basically the theme of the story.

I guess that the best example to illustrate this is actually Jacob. At the very beginning, we were told that he was obsessed with finding the Cursed Vaults. Only later, we started slowly learning that he was worried about students getting hurt. That R was manipulating him, threatening him with hurting his loved ones, and basically forcing him to do all of that. Jacob wasn’t a madman with dangerous obsession – he was a victim, and he was trying to protect other people.

We can also kind of see it with Ben in Y4 when the game tries for the whole year to make him look suspicious, only to reveal that he was controlled. We hear it almost all the time in Y7: things are not what they seem to be. Corey was introduced with the story about Emeric the Evil about how people might do bad things for various reasons – not always bad morally.

Moreover, I believe that it could’ve been very similar with the Wizard in White. Ever since we heard about him for the first time in Y5, he was presented as someone dangerous, attacking Mundungus with some unknown incantations and whatnot. Then, we learnt about him being expelled for using Dark Magic. And… doesn’t it sound like the beginning of Jacob’s story?

On top of that, I wouldn’t be surprised if the WIW is somehow related to Dai Ryusaki. I mean, if the only reason for making him a former Mahoutokoro student was to say: “Oh, he got expelled because he was looking for the Dark Scroll”… it’d be rather disappointing. But if the WIW is related to Ryusaki, it totally makes sense that he’d be a part of the Cabal now. And that the Cabal continues Ryusaki’s mission: to protect the world from the Dark Scroll.

It’s all about protection

Let me ask you something. What was the very first thing Rakepick did when she was alone with MC in Y4Ch1? She taught us Protego.

Moving on…

Y4Ch14:

Y5Ch10:

I’m not gonna talk here about saving us from Ben in Y4 or saving us in Knockturn Alley in Y5 because my point is rather about preparing MC to defend themselves. Even breaking our wand was sort of a part of it because MC needed that damn new wand. And I’ll use here a comparison from my old analysis as I still think it explains my point well:

Imagine that magic skills are similar to drawing skills. You go to school, you get a pen, a pencil, maybe some crayons. You learn to make some simple patterns, to write, sometimes you draw. And every now and then, there will be a person who’s particularly good at drawing. They will practice, they will get better, and especially if they have talent, they’ll be able to create amazing art, even if only with a ballpen. And for most people, the basic school supplies will be enough. Even our artists can do well just with that. But they can also become better by getting better supplies, by learning new media etc. It will take more time at first for sure, but the end result will be more impressive.

The basic supplies are obviously MC’s first wand. It doesn’t mean there was something wrong with it, and it had to be changed. If you give just a simple pencil to an artist and to a “regular” person, the first one will still create something better. But then came Rakepick, and she recognised that MC can do more. That not only they went through a lot of changes and a different wand might be more suitable for their personality now, but most importantly that they have extra potential to improve. This was ultimately a good thing for MC.

And what about the other members of the Rogues/the Cabal? Well, one of my theories as to why the WIW “attacked” us in Y6 is that he was trying to protect MC from someone else’s attack. You know, just like MC did during “The Quibbler” TLSQ to protect Chiara from Ismelda’s attack:

And yeah, I still insist that the WIW’s real intention back then was to talk to MC. It wasn’t about kidnapping MC and that whole leader bullshit because the WIW doesn’t even work for R.

Now, I don’t have much for Verucca, but I do want to talk more about Burke. A while ago, I gathered all of our interactions with Healer Burke at St Mungo’s. Please, take a moment to check it here because if you really look at it, Burke was like… the sweetest person ever. And something very prominent about him is phrases like: “Try not to worry”, “Don’t worry, we have it under control” etc. Burke was quite literally trying to protect MC’s mental health. Sure, you can say that it’s just an act. But that’s not all I have to say about Burke.

In Y7Ch29, Burke had that mysterious line about “coming home”, right?

I know people assume that it’s a reference to the whole leader thing, but I still think it makes no sense. I explained it already here. However, I have a bit different interpretation for you instead.

If the Cabal was always about the protection, it’d make sense that some members (like Burke, for example) weren’t fully supportive of Verucca’s decision to kill the siblings. After all, they were supposed to protect both the Cursed Vaults and the families connected to them. In a way, they could see the siblings almost like the Cabal’s family. They don’t have to be all literally related – it’s more about… community, I guess. You know what I mean? In such a case, it’d make sense that Burke talked about home. Because “home” is a very emotional word that makes you think about safety. And that’s what the Cabal originally was about.

Another thing that might prove that Burke wasn’t talking about R is R’s letter they sent to Jacob after Duncan’s death.

So… R’s mentality is that “there are no friends”, but then Burke suddenly talks about “HOME”...? Yes, because Burke belongs to a totally different organisation that has an entirely different mentality. R is corrupted, and they care only about power and the treasure. That’s why there are no friends for them. Emotional attachments make them weaker. But for the Cabal, a more emotional approach helps them stay true to their mission of protection.

Oh, and I keep using “the Cabal”, but to be fair, I assume they might have a different name – Jacob just didn’t know it when he wrote about them in his notebook. In fact, I believe that R and the Cabal might’ve been one organisation once, but they got separated at some point because of different views. So, technically, they both might have the same name.

One last problem…

One of my main assumptions in the Rogues theory was that the Rogues acts against R, and they want to make sure MC knows R is evil. That’s why Rakepick made it absolutely clear that Rowan is dead because R wanted it (while they wanted to have nothing to do with Duncan’s death – even though we know it’s ALSO their fault). And that’s why the WIW was so off-putting when telling us that R doesn’t give a fuck about what MC wants, and we’re gonna be their leader no matter what. However… wouldn’t R realise by now that someone gives them a bad rap?

Well, yeah, they would. In fact, I suspect they already did. I think that the Cabal got compromised after Y6Ch35 when they staged the meeting for MC to learn that R has a mole at Hogwarts. That’s why Merula was surprised to see Rakepick in the Sunken Vault. Rakepick was hiding from R at the time, so R couldn’t tell Merula they’re sending her to the Vault – because they didn’t send her. Moreover, if I’m right about the WIW and Victor being related (which would be another parallel between Jacob and the WIW), I suspect that R might be behind turning Victor into a vampire as a punishment for the WIW.

The conclusion

So, yeah… that’s pretty much it! As always, do I think it’s too complicated for Jam City? Absolutely yes! Do I care? Not at all! I believe it might be what was planned in the original story, though. My goal at this point is basically to explain the plot holes in the simplest way possible without ignoring things, even if I’m aware that JC won’t address these issues properly. Therefore, if you see some inconsistencies or something isn’t clear – feel free to hit me up!

Oh, and one more thing… While you might say that having two groups is too complicated and whatnot, the idea of “R and someone else” is not entirely new for the game.

Y3Ch6:

Y4Ch4:

Y4Ch10:

Of course, it might be viewed as an early foreshadowing for the reveal that R is a secret group… But what if there’s even more to that?

#long post #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm mc #hphm jacob #patricia rakepick #pro rakepick #madam verucca #wizard in white #healer burke #dai ryusaki #dark scroll #cursed vaults #hphm r #the cabal #the rogues theory #analysis post #theory #hphm theory

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sirensmojo · 3 years

Text

“KINDRED”, 2 - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy meets a librarian that he discovered to be the chief of an underground organisation. Needing man enough allies to dirty their hands in the battle against Oswald Mosley, he shakes hands with the devil. Feelings intertwine with business, a mix that leads to unalterable ends...

Warnings: Swearing, romance, fluff.

Word Count: 6K+

❰ Previous Chapter

(...)

Several days later.

You were walking London’s street with the confidence of someone that ruled the place. Your back, straight, your head high as the air moved your hair gently, as if you were starring in an old Hollywood movie.

Your suit fitted you perfectly, a little loose so you were comfortable. You were wearing the jacket closed, one hand in your pant’s pocket as the clicking sound of your high heels resonated against the cobblestones of the empty streets.

It was early in the morning, so early the thick mist nearly extinguished the cigarette hanging on your red painted lips, but your gaze was already as determined as one can be.

‘This day will be great’ was the mantra you were singing in your head. You were supposed to open the library in less than an hour now, and you had to meet with your new employees to discuss the rules before opening.

You thanked God some of them were already a part of your organisation, which made it easier as they knew the way things needed to be done under your management.

Entering the building, the women were already waiting, in uniform and standing in a perfect line side by side.

You offered them a warm smile coming closer to them as you took your woollen coat off.

“Misses and Madams, let me welcome you to the Bridgehead Library. Now, you may or may not know me, I’m Y/N, you, strong fighter for women’s rights & aspirant to a world where we would walk the streets unafraid of any danger. Because we know how it is, for those of you that are single moms, for those of you that were disowned by your own family, those of you who don’t want to get married.”

You paced back and forth in front of the aligned women, looking at each one of them straight in the eyes, as talking with a firm and confident tone.

“You’re not taken seriously, you’re misused and abused. You fear the barmaid will not serve you a drink cause no man stands on your side, you fear the man that is staring at your body will be lurking in the shadows, following you, and rip off your clothes when you’ll be in an empty street.”

You stop in front of a face you saw in the files of Thomas Shelby while doing some research on him. You identify the individual as Ada Thorne, born Shelby, Tom’s sister.

“Well, you should know, for as long as you're willing to work here, none of the things mentioned before should ever happen to you. And your family will be fed and more... I guarantee you fifteen pounds a week. If anything… A-ny-thing may happen to you due to your gender, consider turning to Bridget, we will find a solution.”

You motioned to a blonde-haired woman sitting legs crossed at the principal desk to their right. Her hair was middle length and perfectly waved to one side as the other was tucked behind her ear.

The named Bridget glanced up to you before colliding her lit matchstick with her cigarette.

“You’re under my protection, use my name for doing whatever pleases you, whenever you want. This is your ticket to a brand new life, for all of you. And all of us, together, we can achieve great things. If the counsellor job isn’t enough for you, I invite you to turn to Ana.”

You pointed a brunette on your side, her facial expression was passive & aggressive, but for some reason, it was comforting. As if you knew you were in security in her presence.

“Now, as for the library…” You gave your instructions.

As soon as you finished your speech, it was 7, the hour of the opening.

The day was slow at the beginning, but soon enough the library was packed. Not only by people here to find a book, but packed with numerous women, all in a single file that led to a small room at the back of the first floor that had been designated as Ana’s office.

It was almost impossible for Ada not to wonder what was going on.

Were all these women wanting to find another job than counsellor?

All employees tried their best to keep quiet the visitors, following your orders, but as Ada was passing by the single file to pick up and put back books, she could hear murmurs.

The individuals were talking about politics, but something so far from what she had ever heard.

Some were talking about the tragic death of a certain Emily Davison before the war at the Derby Epsom and how they rallied the WSPU(Women’s Social and Political Union).

Others were talking about a recent speech by Emmeline Pankhurst to which they couldn’t assist due to coppers. The Shelby sister surmised that woman must be the leader of the political party given the amount of respect they paid her.

No need to say Ada was drowning in a tide of data and names she vaguely heard of before.

She didn’t pay that much attention to the women’s cause. Even after the death of her Freddie, after which reality smacked her back into the world she was living in.

It was either her family or her convictions, as being a Shelby meant drifting from the oppressed to the oppressor. But she was so focused on not being a Shelby that she closed herself to other opportunities.

She wanted to be a part of something bigger and better to help those in need. But she ultimately admitted to herself she needed her family in order to survive, which led her to jump off the communist boat.

But a part of her was always keeping her beliefs close to her heart.

(...)

*The library, fourth floor*

You turned the keys in the lock, opening your door’s office. You switched on the light and when turning back, stumbled on a man sitting crossed legs, at the edge of the sofa.

When he was sure he made his presence known, he lied backwards, extending one of his arms on the armrest, his head held high.

He was dressed in an elegant dark blue suit, white shirt, the chains of his watch knotted around one of his buttons with a fine red & blue tie around his neck.

Right above his upper lips was a full mustache, and as your gaze reached his dark eyes, you glimpsed the stranger’s neat hair flattened backward.

“What a surprise.” You let out, walking to the desk as if it was normal for him to be here. You then hung your coat on the coat rack, turning your back at Mosley.

“A good one, I hope.” The man put on his fake smile, lying eyes everywhere he could on the woman’s silhouette in front of him.

“Always, Mr Mosley. How could you be any other thing than a pleasure to see,” you came back to where he was and sat in one of the armchairs ahead “and meet.” You added, offering him a smile.

“It’s a shame we never had time to properly exchange--”

“That’s why you crept into my office.” You cut him and nodded to herself, your knuckles hitting on her thigh.

A chuckle escaped the man’s lips before he stared even more at the light-haired woman.

“It is to be said, your name doesn’t get quite unnoticed in society or amongst politicians.”

“So you’ve heard of me, even more charming.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

If he thought he could cajole you that easily, he was wrong.

“Not only have I heard of your deeds, Miss you, but I’ve been reported daily about the people you keep company with.” He stated as if it was normal for him to send people spying on whoever.

You remained silent, waiting for the man to say more.

He was gauging your reaction towards his words, lurking at any sudden change in your expression, but you kept on an unreadable face. Mosley tilted his head to the side, curiosity animating his iris.

“Leading me to question the nature of your relationship with Mr Thomas Shelby.” He continued, squinting his eyes.

“Perhaps socialists are your thing?” He spitted that last part with all the distaste he felt toward both the worker class and Tommy.

By the way your piercing eyes didn’t flinch a bit at his sneaky comment, Mosley surmised you weren't impressed, which eventuated in him smiling while keeping up the stare.

“Did you come all the way down to my library to give me a lecture on your inauthentic Dasein, Mr Mosley? There are doctors for that.”

A rictus at the corner of your lips distracted the eyes of the man in front you, who unwittingly broke the stare.

You won.

You took great delight in the void of Mosley’s expression that surely didn’t understand what you just said.

“Oh, beg pardon. Perhaps I’m using concepts you don’t understand.” You didn’t even cover the fact you were making fun of his ignorance, your eyes still as sharp as razors.

“Don’t you know Heidegger, Mr Mosley? He discusses a neat difference between what he calls Sein, that covers what Is, what constitutes human existence with the Dasein that covers the phenomenological analysis of human existence. In other words, he says there is a gap between how things are and how we perceive them.”

You got up and walked to your desk, making sure to pass by him pretty close so your perfume would meet the man’s nostrils.

You then opened the ceramic piece in which you kept your cigarettes, and as you grabbed one, you concluded.

“When it may seem to you something is occuring, that doesn’t mean it’s actually happening. It just means your senses want to believe it is happening for numerous reasons, but the main one is almost always the fear of something. You don’t believe it wittingly of course, it’s your inconscient working. But still, you just confided in me an unconscious worry named Thomas Shelby.” You ignited your cig.

By using a psycho-philosophical reference, you were showing him your hand, how studious you were, which meant he couldn’t look down on you or intimidate you easily.

His attempt to pressure you wasn’t working. And you were setting the standards high.

Mosley didn’t miss any of your movement since you got up. Eyeing you top to bottom. It was crystal clear your monologue satisfied him the most. He, that considered you as illegitimate of the high-society status you had been given.

Perhaps he was wrong?

“May I add, no offense here, that whatever concerns him, or me doesn’t concern you a bit? I’m afraid you came here in vain.” You smacked her lips at the end of her sentence, faking to be annoyed by the fact he lost his time coming here.

“I found you, Miss Y/L/N, I found you.” He repeated, fluttering his eyes as tilting his head to the side.

His way of intensely eyeing the individual he was speaking to would be quite uncomfortable for you if you hadn’t been a woman in a man’s world for so long.

No wonder why this man was so feared and yet adorned. His whole character emitted mysteriousness while arousing wonder and curiosity. It was hard, nearly impossible to read his face or even get in his mind, but you didn’t need that to face him head-on.

“And to answer your question, no. Socialists aren’t my thing, Kings are.” His brows raised at the end of your sentence.

You stared at each other some more, Mosley trying to discover the implied meaning of your sentence as you were internally laughing seeing him struggle.

“Anyway, I hope you’re finding our city to your liking. You’re from Birmingham after all.” He paused and got up, walking closer to the door with a hand in his pants pocket.”Talking of which, may I ask why not opening in a library there?” It was obvious the displeasure he felt towards your decision.

“I’ll call it ‘modern conquering’.” You responded with enthusiasm.

(...)

Ada poured wine into two cups when hearing the keys turning in the lock of her house. She first thought it was Ben, her lover coming back from his office, or wherever he was working as they weren’t truly speaking of work when together.

Her eyes widened at the sight of her brother when she turned back to the entrance of the living room. “Tommy?” Her high pitched tone expressing her surprise.

“Let’s sit down, Ada.” The man always looked worried and thoughtful, but this time it was different, his eyes were actually reflecting emotions, which usually never are.

“What’s happened”

Tommy came nearer the table and pulled a chair for his sister, without looking at her. “Sit down, eh?” He repeated before sitting down himself.

Ada didn’t stop looking at her brother, she knew him too well. Something wasn’t right. She pulled a chair for herself.

Tommy tried his best to look at the face of his sister while talking but he just couldn’t, his eyes kept drifting away. “Ben younger is dead. Someone put a bomb in his car.”

As the brunette wasn’t talking, her mouth slightly opened in shook, he kept on talking, “I don’t know how you felt about him or how bad this is going to hurt, but whatever happens just remember you have a baby inside of you.” He pointed to her tummy.

His sister let her back hit the chair noisily, searching the void for answers. “God.” She hardly sighed. “Anyone you touch. Which means anyone I touch. Which means anyone any of us touch. He never knew I was pregnant… I hadn’t told him.”

Tommy that was looking at her to support her pain, once again looked down hearing the hard truth.

“God, I didn’t love him.” She sighed heavily. “But I liked him. He was decent and good. And I wasn’t gonna marry him. The baby was a mistake but that’s okay… because I didn’t ask anything of him. God he didn’t deserve us.” A tear rolled down her cheek before she exhaled loudly again.

“Well I’ve spoken to his family. They’re going to take care of the funeral” Tommy said as Ada sniffled. “It will go down as an IRA assassination of a British military officer.” He felt the need to divulge her all he knew.

“But what was it really?” She calmly asked, looking intently at him her head tilted to the side.

Tommy smacked his lips and breathed deeply. “It was… a consequence of good intentions. My good intentions.”

She scoffed.

“I pushed him to report on the fascists. I thought it was the right thing to do. And as a result, Section D or the Branch or intelligence had him killed.”

She scoffed again, looking away this time.

He abruptly took back in hands his beret he previously dropped on the table and started fidgeting with it, looking down. “There was a kid, died in the explosion. He was ten years old. It’s funny isn’t it, how it works?” He cleared his throat and got up, starting to move forward the door.

“No, Tommy.”

He stopped, his back still turned to the woman.

“Don’t give yourself this excuse. “ Ada’s eyes were filled with tears, some of which hurtling down her face to her chin.

“He was ten years old. if I would stuck to what I do, he’d still be kicking a ball in the street. It’s funny isn’t it?” The meaning of his words was amplified by the thunder rumbling outside.

(...)

Days later.

It was the end of the day, employees had started to leave when Ada came to the entrance.

“Can I get the changing room keys?” She asked Bridget, who was sitting behind the desk, lost in a book.

“Ada Shelby? Miss you would like to borrow you a moment.” She pointed to the stairs behind her. “She’s waiting for you.” The desk lady invited the woman standing in front of her to get on her way.

Ada rolled her eyes at the mention of the Shelby name. “It’s Ada Thorne.”

The light-haired woman smiled at Ada’s comment.

She got up to the second floor and then to the third one before she wondered what her boss had to say that somebody else couldn’t tell her.

Ada rapidly caught sight of the wooden door at the end of the long corridor. She stops walking when hearing voices, a male and a female one. She stops, not wanting to get into their intimacy, but the door wasn’t completely closed, which allowed the voices to slip out pretty clear.

Not too long after she heard steps approaching and moved backward, so it didn’t look like she was eavesdropping. The door ultimately opened, and the fascist man she saw only once before with Tommy passed by her, without even glancing her way.

She knocked on the door and cleared her mind.

“Come in.”

She cleared her throat. “Miss Y/L/N, am Ada Thorne, you asked to see me?” She peek into the room.

“Yep, come in. Take a seat.” You motioned your hand that was holding a cigarette to the chair in front of her.

Her back flat against the backrest, your E/C’s eyes entered those of the Ada’s.

You were searching for the same light that was twinkling in Thomas’ eyes, in vain.

“Do you know who I am, Ada? I can call you that, right?”

“I heard about your achievements in Paris. What you did for women.” The brunette answered, uncertain of where this discussion was going.

“Do you know what I do?”

At the question, the woman ahead of you didn’t know what to answer.

Was there even a correct answer for that?

Of course, she knew part of her activities was illegal, she wasn’t blind. And, come on! She was a Shelby too, she could feel those things thanks to her brother’s choice of life.

But what her boss wanted her to say, exactly? And for what reason?

“You’re talking about the illegal part?”

“The criminal one” You snapped back.

Ada’s eyes widened.

“I surmised you didn’t. Why did you think there were that many women in here today? I offer them jobs in my London’s counterfeit money’s enterprise.” You leaned forward to Thorne, squeezing the cig into the ashtray.

You crossed the fingers of both your hands together. “You don’t really want to work here.” You forced out the words as if to convince Ada.

“Understand this library covers an underground organisation that is beyond you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not particularly involved in the “business” of your own family. Tommy gave you a title in it but still, you’re here, working in a library to prove yourself something.

Why would I want someone like you in here? Someone that is unsure of what they are, what they want.”

The venom entered Ada’s ear going directly to her chest, depriving her of oxygen for a short instant. But her eyebrows surely knitted in anger.

“Stop acting like you know everything when it is clear you understand nothing.” She gained composure again.

“I heard, you didn’t even want to be a Shelby in the first place, running away from your home and your family.” You nodded, your eyes still deep into Ada’s.

“You ‘hear’ things and you take it as the absolute truth? And you’re the leader here.” Thorne chuckled to herself, her eyebrows raised high.

You sneered at the comment.

“What is the problem with my family anyway? If you want to fire me because I’m a Shelby then just do it. I’ll not come burning your library if that’s the matter.”

The librarian cackled, putting your head into your joined open hands, elbows on the table. “God! No! That’s not that. It is more about the fact that the first time you’re getting involved in that kind of organisation it’s not your brother’s. Not your family’s.”

Ada looked away, realizing what the light-haired woman meant. She, who never was included in the family business, rather by choice than by abandonment of her family, was employed in a pseudo library that was covering for dirty activities.

“It’s ironic indeed. But what makes you think I wouldn’t want to work here knowing the truth?”

You shrugged. “You never worked with your brothers. Even your aunt, Polly is actively working there.”

“It was my choice.”

“So you’ve changed your mind.”

Ada dismissed the talk, another question seeming to be more urgent:

“But why didn’t you just let me be unaware of all this and be like the others.” She retorted.

“Because you’re not ‘like the others’. You’re a Shelby and a Thorne. Your brother is sitting at the House Of Commons amongst politicians while getting his hands dirty here and there, and your deceased husband was a very known communist leader. You’re everything but random, understand that.”

“So you’re telling this to me out of goodness?” She laughed at you without even hiding her reluctance toward this eventuality.

“Respect.” You rectified with a solemn tone.

The brunette stops laughing, her expression becoming serious again. She didn’t quite get your the true motives, but she had other questions.

“What are your relations with my brothers, are you enemies?”

“No.”

“Allies, then?”

“No.”

Even if you told Ada about the true roots of this library, she wouldn’t talk about the arrangement between her and Thomas. It wasn’t your place to do so, and you didn’t think Ada needed to know, at least for now.

“It’s not like you’re going to get your hands dirty anyway, but if anything should happen to me, they will associate you with me, so they’ll come for you.”

“Who’s they?”

“Coopers, I don’t have them in my pocket.”

Thorne seemed to be in her head, probably rethinking her intention to keep working here as a counsellor.

“You were already working here with the old owner so I’ll let you choose rather you want to stay or leave. But don’t stay because you want to prove something to yourself, or your family. I don’t need a crybaby. If the communist cause you defend isn’t matching with the cause I fight for, leave.”

Your words cut in pieces the thick atmosphere that had settled between the two women.

(...)

Thomas convened a family meeting.

Everyone was already waiting for him at the pub. Charlie Senior and Curly were sitting at a table drinking from the bottle, while Johnny Dog and Jeremiah were sipping on whiskey at the counter, next to Aberama Gold, too occupied looking at his future wife Polly.

She were sitting at a table with her son and his wife, Gina.

As Arthur and Finn passed the door, the oldest Shelby got behind Michael and didn’t miss the occasion to stumble wittingly on his cousin’s chair, pulling away the younger’s back from it.

Next, he hassled to sit near the counter, pouring himself some liquor that he drank in one go. Finn reluctantly came and sat at the table between Gina and Polly.

Tommy finally arrived, walking around the table to place himself in front of everyone.

“First of all, an apology from Lizzie. She can’t be here. Charles has a violin concert. Also, welcome to Mr Aberama Gold. He and Polly are to be married in three weeks with my blessing. From now on, Aberama will be welcomed at our meetings. First item: business. A bereavement. Colonel Ben Younger, who may perhaps have become a member of this family, was taken from us, four days ago, by dark forces. We’ve made some investigations, we think we know who planted the bomb. In the meantime, our thoughts are with Ada and the baby inside of her, who may one day, sit at these meetings but… Hopefully under happier circumstances.”

“Let’s drink to happier circumstances.” Pol’ offered while pouring some whiskey in her and Tommy’s cup.

“Yeah.” Arthur agreed, raising his glass. “To Ada.” He added, soon joined by all the people in the room.

Tommy coughed at the burn of the whiskey and continued his speech, “Item number two: an announcement regarding Michael.” He coughed again as if to release some tension in him, his hand rose toward the younger Gray.

“Before you go on, Tommy, there’s something I’d like to say, to the whole family directly, regarding finances and the future of this company.” Michael stated, getting comfortable in his chair, and from the corner of his eye, he could see his mother glaring at his wife.

Gina ignored her, looking down and smoking a cigarette.

“According to your own estimations, this new venture of the delivery and shipment of opium will bring into the company around £2 million per year. Therefore, due to the amounts involved, I think this company should be restructured.” He continued, looking fearlessly at a pissed Tommy.

“Michael. I think this can wait ‘till outside the family meeting.” His mother tried to postpone the confrontation.

“Restructured in what way?” Tommy asked, not because he was genuinely interested, but because he needed to know if Michael’s betrayal had limits. Which it didn’t have.

“Because of the amount of money involved, shipment and dispatch will become the primary source of income in the company. It’s simple mathematics.” Gina proudly announced, deciding to match her husband’s audacity as she looked Thomas the wrong way.

Her husband got up, going behind her as he placed his hands on both her shoulders rubbing them gently. “With the help of my wife, I will organise an expansion into America, where the narcotics business is just beginning to grow. I have very good contacts in Detroit, New-York, Boston, who I’ve already spoken to about this. And Gina has family who are very experienced in this kind of business.”

It seems like the woman surely gained composure thanks to the assurance in her husband’s voice because she finally decides to look back at Polly, who was staring at her the whole time with an unpredictable longing to plant her butterfly knife in her.

Gina, quickly glanced away as if to snub her husband’s mother.

“According to the conversations I’ve had with them, with a regular supply of pure opium from China, within a short space of time, the American narcotics business will bring in $20 million per annum. Enough money for you to enjoy an easing burden you all now feel. See, I know that the scars and the wounds, they’re on the inside, not on the outside. And as a member of the new generation, I am able to take that burden off your weary shoulders. A new decade is coming. There’ll be new opportunities and new territories, more money than we’ve ever had before.”

He stops looking around to everyone to pause on his cousin only.

“Tommy, you can still do the good work that deep down you want to do. Mum, you can get married and live in that big house.”

Polly happily glanced at Aberama, letting herself dream of a good life for a second.

“Arthur, you can be the man that Linda wants you to be.”

“Fuck Linda.” Arthur interrupted.

Michael turned to Finn, walking toward him to rest behind the seated man, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it proudly.

“Finn, you’ve proved yourself. You’re part of the new generation. You could come to New-York with me.” Michael finished his speech. His wife handed him a file that he gladly took in hands. He walked to Thomas and dropped the file on the table that rested between them two.

Tommy’s eyes went to the file before lifting to Michael’s determined face.

“Here is my proposal. A full restructuring of the company. I will be managing director… and you can be non-executive chairman. But under an assumed name to protect your reputation. I found the name of a dead man. You will be registered as Mr Jones.”

He turned toward the other people in the room. “You will each receive a percentage of the profits as an annuity. And you will no longer have to engage in any of the associated activities.”

Michael then grabbed the file to hand it to Tommy.

“Take a look at the future, Tommy. At least read it with an open mind.”

The head of the Peaky Blinders paused, looking at Michael intensely before taking the file. “It’s cold in here, Michael.” He finished, turning to the fireplace and throwing the catalogue there.

Johnny Dog let out an excited laugh, surely due to the heavy atmosphere the two cousins had settled.

“Tommy the Americans want to deal with me.” Michael’s jaw tensed as his voice raised with impatience.

“Item number three--” Continued Thomas as if nothing happened. But he was cut off by Gina’s venom:

“Tell him the truth.” She seemed unsatisfied with the way his husband chose to handle the situation. Tommy’s eyes hassled toward the young woman, speechless. “Go on. He can take it.” She continued.

His eyes went back to Michael that looked away, immediately, as if he didn’t want to come to this end.

“Tell me the truth, Michael.” Tommy encouraged, exasperated by this whole scene.

“The Americans don’t want to deal with an old-fashioned backstreet razor gang. Those days are done.” Michael gained composure again, looking blankly at Tommy.

The latter couldn’t even correctly react that some men entered the pub, needing some help to handle Bartley, who was convinced he was still at war. Everybody got out of the room in a hurry except for Michael, Gina, Tommy & Pol’.

Passing by Michael to get out, Arthur leaned to his ear slowly, “Fuck the Americans.”

Tommy turned around, hand on the wooden piece as he was leaning above the fireplace, looking intensely into the orangish flames.

“I’m doing this for you Tommy. It’s time… And you know it.”

The concerned one, closed his eyes taking a deep breath in and tried to calm his nerves and think. But nothing came to him, he couldn’t even properly swallow how much Michael’s betrayal had extended, the worst was that he was sure, it wasn’t the end of it. His cousin probably wanting to take everything from him slowly he surely voluntarily omitted things.

“Tommy, Mum’s leaving. John’s dead. Arthur needs help. Ada’s man was killed in your own backyard because you fucked up.” Now that there weren’t people to impress, Michael let the anger he felt toward his cousin’s actions.

The elder blue-eyed man couldn’t stay calm a second more, he abruptly turned around, grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was on the table and violently threw it in the fire, creating the flames to only grow bigger. Gina was scared, she held her chair with tightened hands and Polly and she jumped with surprise on their chair.

He turned again to Michael as the latter held him a butterfly knife already open.

“Go on, Tom. Go on cut me. Like the good old days. Or… See this for what it is. A natural succession that someday must happen” His arm going down again.

At this point, the Shelby brother had calmed down, finding funny the proposition he was offered. His lips smacked and breathed deeply, looking at anything but his opposant. He shook his head in disbelief, “I gave you an opportunity, Michael. You betrayed me. Don’t be here when I get back.” He looked at his younger cousin, deceived by him and angry at himself.

After losing $2 millions in the Wall Street crash., Tommy gave him an opportunity to come back to England and pay him what he owed him, but even there, in the boat, Michael met with people that are Shelby’s family enemy. When that happened, Tommy gave him the benefit of the doubt. And now this? Michael went too far, and this time Tommy will not close his eyes on it. The only reason his cousin was still breathing was that he's Polly’s son.

He walked around the table and addressed Gina, smacking his fingers as he pointed her, leaning forward. “You. You can tell your family--”

“Let me guess.” She interrupted him, the same satisfying face she had at the beginning of the meeting. “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” That wasn’t a question.

Michael grinned, as Tommy quickly got out of the pub.

“Right?” Gina mockingly asked.

(...)

Tommy was spending most days at the House Of Commons lately doing speeches in favor of fascism to the greatest pleasure of Mosley.

That day, he was there from early in the morning to the evening. It was already around 10, but his assistant opened the door to his office, saying someone was there but without having an appointment.

“Who it is?” He asked, raising a brow, one of his hands went in his pocket to check on his watch.

“The librarian.”

It’s been nearly two weeks since your last meeting and at the simple mention of you, he would find his blood boiling in anticipation of the wave of feelings you brought him.

His pulsions talking for him, the Shelby brother ordered to let you in without questioning why you were here that late.

“Mr Shelby, you asked me to get information about a certain Michael Gray?” You came in like a tornado, your voice filled with sarcasm mixed with enthusiasm as you were the one pushing him to act on his cousin’s betrayal weeks ago.

How ironic was it that he had to learn the hard way you had been right since the very beginning, you surmised something must’ve happened between the younger gray and him given the determined words he’d written on the note he left at the library sat in one of the two chairs facing his desk. “No time for formalities.” You agitated the folder in her hand.

He almost gasped at your movements, he had forgotten how sensual you were.

Whenever they would meet, you would succeed to arouse something in him, maybe even igniting a fire that couldn’t be found when you weren’t around.

“You might want to read that!” You nodded to yourself, your brows raised high as if you detained the most important information of the decade.

“You do me the lecture.” His playful tone made you look up to him. Your head tilted at the sight of the glasses hanging on Tommy’s nose as you released a little “huh” from your lips.

He squinted his eyes, not knowing why the actual fuck did you do that. Did you just judge him or was he dreaming?

He took off the glasses and placed them on the table, not wanting to deal with that face you just made again, all while remaining silent and invited you to begin.

You clicked your tongue in disapproval. “Do you think it’s going to be free, Mr Shelby?” You looked intensely at him, your own eyes devoid of emotions.

He hated the fact you were able to just erase your emotion from your face and your eyes as he desperately wanted to see things in them. But him being him, he too put on an expressionless face.

“What do you want?”

“Everything, but you can’t give that to me. So I’ll just answer ‘whatever’.”

He frowned, not understanding her point.

“When I’ll need something, you’ll be answering present without the option to say no.”

He remained silent, quite taken aback by how forward you was. His jaw clenched, tension building up in the room. If stares could send lightnings, they’d both be nothing but a pile of ashes by now.

Reading his silence, you deduced it means he was alright with the deal and proceeded to answer his previous wish, do him a lecture.

“It is written here that Gina Gray’s family isn’t rich, but they weren’t starving either…” You begins. You then allowed a sweet “bla-bla-bla” to come out your lips as passing over the words searching for a specific part.

Tom didn’t miss your deeds a bit. From the enthusiastic tone in your voice to your serious face. He looked at the way your were sitting, legs crossed with the file on your thighs as you was slightly leaning forward.

No wonder your were excited to show him your findings while handling business like a boss. He caught himself thinking your were cute.

It was the first time he’d seen your that commited. He’d seen you focused, but you were always passive whereas now, your seemed completely into what your were talking about.

“The part that interests us is this one ‘Has an uncle that meets up at the docks several times a week with a group of people being a part of the drugs industry. It seems they cover their activities by the image of a protestant group and illegally sends rifles under God’s cause to our beloved Scottish friends, in other words, the Billy boys. And this, on a daily basis.”

You patted the paper.

“It is written here, they counted around 6 boats per month, Tom.” You raised your kindling gaze to the icy blue-eyed man.

He paused, his lips slightly opening before sliding a hand on his face and looking down.

It seems Tommy didn’t believe what he was hearing.

He leaned on the desk and opened the wooden box where his cigarettes were.

His back harshly met his chair as he stared at the woman, blinking.

“I’m serving it on a plate, to you, Thomas.” You”d serenely let out, as if you understood him without having him saying anything. “Just deal with it.”

“How much do you trust this contact?”

“I trust him with my life.” You responded.

With this partnership, he didn’t proceed the same as usual by offering something in return. He didn’t have the time to give you a proper offer that you'd already started to work in favor of his plan against Mosley, so this relationship was more based on the trust they have into each other rather than a commun exchange of services.

Today was the first time you’d ask him to return the favor, and it was today as well that the man had to wittingly choose to trust her blindly.

He coughed and lighted his cig, and put an elbow on the wooden desk as he was still deeply in thoughts.

You got up, moving slowly and leaned on the desk, hands flat on it, her face not even a centimeter away from his. “If you don’t trust that,” you pointed at him and then at you, “end it.” You finished.

The mood automatically shifted due to the tension that has quickly installed between the two individuals.

Not for even one second did you imagine things to get this sensual. Here you were, desperately searching other's eyes out of each other’s grip.

Tommy’s eyes hungrily drifted to your lips, and stayed there more than it should’ve.

You moved back and turned your heels, leaving the room.

Too much in too little time. This. What that even was, and what did it mean?

This was the reason why you never got emotionally involved in business . But that was different now. But for you, that always kept the idea that the past wasn't supposed to repeat itself, the present was slapping maybe too hard.

Thank God you succeeded at getting out, not because of Tommy, but utterly because of yourself. If you had stayed so much as one second more, you didn’t know what you would’ve done, or maybe you did know but preferred to bury it away.

It was easier that way.

Following Chapter ❱

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