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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 month ago

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Prime’s enshittified advertising

Prime's gonna add more ads. They brought in ads in January, and people didn't cancel their Prime subscriptions, so Amazon figures that they can make Prime even worse and make more money:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2024/10/amazon-prime-video-is-getting-more-ads-next-year/

The cruelty isn't the point. Money is the point. Every ad that Amazon shows you shifts value away from you – your time, your attention – to the company's shareholders.

That's the crux of enshittification. Companies don't enshittify – making their once-useful products monotonically worse – because it amuses them to erode the quality of their offerings. They enshittify them because their products are zero-sum: the things that make them valuable to you (watching videos without ads) make things less valuable to them (because they can't monetize your attention).

This isn't new. The internet has always been dominated by intermediaries – platforms – because there are lots more people who want to use the internet than are capable of building the internet. There's more people who want to write blogs than can make a blogging app. There's more people who want to play and listen to music than can host a music streaming service. There's more people who want to write and read ebooks than want to operate an ebook store or sell an ebooks reader.

Despite all the early internet rhetoric about the glories of disintermediation, intermediaries are good, actually:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

The problem isn't with intermediaries per se. The problem arises when intermediaries grow so powerful that they usurp the relationship between the parties they connect. The problem with Uber isn't the use of mobile phones to tell taxis that you're standing on a street somewhere and would like a cab, please. The problem is rampant worker misclassification, regulatory arbitrage, starvation wages, and price-gouging:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/29/geometry-hates-uber/#toronto-the-gullible

There's no problem with publishers, distributors, retailers, printers, and all the other parts of the bookselling ecosystem. While there are a few, rare authors who are capable of performing all of these functions – basically gnawing their books out of whole logs with their teeth – most writers can't, and even the ones who can, don't want to:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

When early internet boosters spoke of disintermediation, what they mostly meant was that it would be harder for intermediaries to capture those relationships – between sellers and buyers, creators and audiences, workers and customers. As Rebecca Giblin and I wrote in our 2022 book Chokepoint Capitalism, intermediaries in every sector rely on chokepoints, narrows where they can erect tollbooths:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

When chokepoints exist, they multiply up and down the supply chain. In the golden age of physical, recorded music, you had several chokepoints that reinforced one another. Limited radio airwaves gave radio stations power over record labels, who had to secretly, illegally bid for prime airspace ("payola"). Retail consolidation – the growth of big record chains – drove consolidation in the distributors who sold to the chains, and the more concentrated distributors became, the more they could squeeze retailers, which drove even more consolidation in record stores. The bigger a label was, the more power it had to shove back against the muscle of the stores and the distributors (and the pressing plants, etc). Consolidation in labels also drove consolidation in talent agencies, whose large client rosters gave them power to resist the squeeze from the labels. Consolidation in venues drives consolidation in ticketing and promotion – and vice-versa.

But there's two parties to this supply chain who can't consolidate: musicians and their fans. With limits on "sectoral bargaining" (where unions can represent workers against all the companies in a sector), musicians' unions were limited in their power against key parts of the supply chain, so the creative workers who made the music were easy pickings for labels, talent reps, promoters, ticketers, venues, retailers, etc. Music fans are diffused and dispersed, and organized fan clubs were usually run by the labels, who weren't about to allow those clubs to be used against the labels.

This is a perfect case-study in the problems of powerful intermediaries, who move from facilitator to parasite, paying workers less while degrading their products, and then charge customers more for those enshittified products.

The excitement about "disintermediation" wasn't so much about eliminating intermediaries as it was about disciplining them. If there were lots of ways to market a product or service, sell it, collect payment for it, and deliver it, then the natural inclination of intermediaries to turn predator would be curbed by the difficulty of corralling their prey into chokepoints.

Now that we're a quarter century on from the Napster Wars, we can see how that worked out. Decades of failure to enforce antitrust law allowed a few companies to effectively capture the internet, buying out rivals who were willing to sell, and bankrupting those who wouldn't with illegal tactics like predatory pricing (think of Uber losing $31 billion by subsidizing $0.41 out of every dollar they charged for taxi rides for more than a decade).

The market power that platforms gained through consolidation translated into political power. When a few companies dominate a sector, they're able to come to agreement on common strategies for dealing with their regulators, and they've got plenty of excess profits to spend on those strategies. First and foremost, platforms used their power to get more power, lobbying for even less antitrust enforcement. Additionally, platforms mobilized gigantic sums to secure the right to screw customers (for example, by making binding arbitration clauses in terms of service enforceable) and workers (think of the $225m Uber and Lyft spent on California's Prop 22, which formalized their worker misclassification swindle).

So big platforms were able to insulate themselves from the risk of competition ("five giant websites, filled with screenshots of the other four" – Tom Eastman), and from regulation. They were also able to expand and mobilize IP law to prevent anyone from breaking their chokepoints or undoing the abuses that these enabled. This is a good place to get specific about how Prime Video works.

There's two ways to get Prime videos: over an app, or in your browser. Both of these streams are encrypted, and that's really important here, because of a law – Section 1201 of the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act – which makes it really illegal to break this kind of encryption (commonly called "Digital Rights Management" or "DRM"). Practically speaking, that means that if a company encrypts its videos, no one is allowed to do anything to those videos, even things that are legal, without the company's permission, because doing all those legal things requires breaking the DRM, and breaking the DRM is a felony (five years in prison, $500k fine, for a first offense).

Copyright law actually gives subscribers to services like Prime a lot of rights, and it empowers businesses that offer tools to exercise those rights. Back in 1976, Sony rolled out the Betamax, the first major home video recorder. After an eight-year court battle, the Supreme Court weighed in on VCRs and ruled that it was legal for all of us to record videos at home, both to watch them later, and to build a library of our favorite shows. They also ruled that it was legal for Sony – and by that time, every other electronics company – to make VHS systems, even if those systems could be used in ways that violated copyright because they were "capable of sustaining a substantial non-infringing use" (letting you tape shows off your TV).

Now, this was more than a decade before the DMCA – and its prohibition on breaking DRM – passed, but even after the DMCA came into effect, there was a lot of media that didn't have DRM, so a new generation of tech companies were able to make tools that were "capable of sustaining a substantial non-infringing use" and that didn't have to break any DRM to do it.

Think of the Ipod and Itunes, which, together, were sold as a way to rip CDs (which weren't encrypted), and play them back from both your desktop computer and a wildly successful pocket-sized portable device. Itunes even let you stream from one computer to another. The record industry hated this, but they couldn't do anything about it, thanks to the Supreme Court's Betamax ruling.

Indeed, they eventually swallowed their bile and started selling their products through the Itunes Music Store. These tracks had DRM and were thus permanently locked to Apple's ecosystem, and Apple immediately used that power to squeeze the labels, who decided they didn't like DRM after all, and licensed all those same tracks to Amazon's DRM-free MP3 store, whose slogan was "DRM: Don't Restrict Me":

https://memex.craphound.com/2008/02/01/amazons-anti-drm-tee/

Apple played a funny double role here. In marketing Itunes/Ipods ("Rip, Mix, Burn"), they were the world's biggest cheerleaders for all the things you were allowed to do with copyrighted works, even when the copyright holder objected. But with the Itunes Music Store and its mandatory DRM, the company was also one of the world's biggest cheerleaders for wrapping copyrighted works in a thin skin of IP that would allow copyright holders to shut down products like the Ipod and Itunes.

Microsoft, predictably enough, focused on the "lock everything to our platform" strategy. Then-CEO Steve Ballmer went on record calling every Ipod owner a "thief" and arguing that every record company should wrap music in Microsoft's Zune DRM, which would allow them to restrict anything they didn't like, even if copyright allowed it (and would also give Microsoft the same abusive leverage over labels that they famously exercised over Windows software companies):

https://web.archive.org/web/20050113051129/http://management.silicon.com/itpro/0,39024675,39124642,00.htm

In the end, Amazon's approach won. Apple dropped DRM, and Microsoft retired the Zune and shut down its DRM servers, screwing anyone who'd ever bought a Zune track by rendering that music permanently unplayable.

Around the same time as all this was going on, another company was making history by making uses of copyrighted works that the law allowed, but which the copyright holders hated. That company was Tivo, who products did for personal video recorders (PVRs) what Apple's Ipod did for digital portable music players. With a Tivo, you could record any show over cable (which was too expensive and complicated to encrypt) and terrestrial broadcast (which is illegal to encrypt, since those are the public's airwaves, on loan to the TV stations).

That meant that you could record any show, and keep it forever. What's more, you could very easily skip through ads (and rival players quickly emerged that did automatic ad-skipping). All of this was legal, but of course the cable companies and broadcasters hated it. Like Ballmer, TV execs called Tivo owners "thieves."

But Tivo didn't usher in the ad-supported TV apocalypse that furious, spittle-flecked industry reps insisted it would. Rather, it disciplined the TV and cable operators. Tivo owners actually sought out ads that were funny and well-made enough to go viral. Meanwhile, every time the industry decided to increase the amount of advertising in a show, they also increased the likelihood that their viewers would seek out a Tivo, or worse, one of those auto-ad-skipping PVRs.

Given all the stink that TV execs raised over PVRs, you'd think that these represented a novel threat. But in fact, the TV industry's appetite for ads had been disciplined by viewers' access to new technology since 1956, when the first TV remotes appeared on the market (executives declared that anyone who changed the channel during an ad-break was a thief). Then came the mute button. Then the wireless remote. Meanwhile, a common VCR use-case – raised in the Supreme Court case – was fast-forwarding ads.

At each stage, TV adapted. Ads in TV shows represented a kind of offer: "Will you watch this many of these ads in return for a free TV show?" And the remote, the mute button, the wireless remote, the VCR, the PVR, and the ad-skipping PVR all represented a counter-offer. As economists would put it, the ability of viewers to make these counteroffers "shifted the equilibrium." If viewers had no defensive technology, they might tolerate more ads, but once they were able to enforce their preferences with technology, the industry couldn't enshittify its product to the liminal cusp of "so many ads that the viewer is right on the brink of turning off the TV (but not quite)."

This is the same equilibrium-shifting dynamic that we see on the open web, where more than 50% of users have installed an ad-blocker. The industry says, "Will you allow this many 'sign up to our mailing list' interrupters, pop ups, pop unders, autoplaying videos and other stuff that users hate but shareholders benefit from" and the ad-blocker makes a counteroffer: "How about 'nah?'":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

TV remotes, PVRs and ad-blockers are all examples of "adversarial interoperability" – a new product that plugs into an existing one, extending or modifying its functions without permission from (or even over the objections of) the original manufacturer:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

Adversarial interop creates a powerful disciplining force on platform owners. Once a user grows so frustrated with a product's enshittification that they research, seek out, acquire and learn to use an adversarial interop tool, it's really game over. The printer owner who figures out where to get third-party ink is gone forever. Every time a company like HP raises its prices, they have to account for the number of customers who will finally figure out how to use generic ink and never, ever send another cent to HP.

This is where DMCA 1201 comes into play. Once a product is skinned with DRM, its manufacturers gain the right to prevent you from doing legal things, and can use the public's courts and law-enforcement apparatus to punish you for trying. Take HP: as soon as they started adding DRM to their cartridges, they gained the legal power to shut down companies that cloned, refilled or remanufactured their cartridges, and started raising the price of ink – which today sits at more than $10,000/gallon:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/30/life-finds-a-way/#ink-stained-wretches

Using third party ink in your printer isn't illegal (it's your printer, right?). But making third party ink for your printer becomes illegal once you have to break DRM to do so, and so HP gets to transform tinted water into literally the most expensive fluid on Earth. The ink you use to print your kid's homework costs more than vintage Veuve Cliquot or sperm from a Kentucky Derby-winning thoroughbred.

Adversarial interoperability is a powerful tool for shifting the equilibrium between producers, intermediaries and buyers. DRM is an even more powerful way of wrenching that equilibrium back towards the intermediary, reducing the share that buyers and sellers are able to eke out of the transaction.

Prime Video, of course, is delivered via an app, which means it has DRM. That means that subscribers don't get to exercise the rights afforded to them by copyright – only the rights that Amazon permits them to have. There's no Tivo for Prime, because it would have to break the DRM to record the shows you stream from Prime. That allows Prime to pull all kinds of shady shit. For example, every year around this time, Amazon pulls popular Christmas movies from its free-to-watch tier and moves them into pay-per-view, only restoring them in the spring:

https://www.reddit.com/r/vudu/comments/1bpzanx/looks_like_amazon_removed_the_free_titles_from/

And of course, Prime sticks ads in its videos. You can't skip these ads – not because it's technically challenging to make a 30-second advance button for a video stream, and doing so wouldn't violate anyone's copyright – but because Amazon doesn't permit you to do so, and the fact that the video is wrapped in DRM makes it a felony to even try.

This means that Amazon gets to seek a different equilibrium than TV companies have had to accept since 1956 and the invention of the TV remote. Amazon doesn't have to limit the quantity, volume, and invasiveness of its ads to "less the amount that would drive our subscribers to install and use an ad-skipping plugin." Instead, they can shoot for the much more lucrative equilibrium of "so obnoxious that the viewer is almost ready to cancel their subscription (but not quite)."

That's pretty much exactly how Kelly Day, the Amazon exec in charge of Prime Video, put it to the Financial Times: they're increasing the number of ads because "we haven’t really seen a groundswell of people churning out or cancelling":

https://www.ft.com/content/f8112991-820c-4e09-bcf4-23b5e0f190a5

At this point, attentive readers might be asking themselves, "Doesn't Amazon have to worry about Prime viewers who watch in their browsers?" After all browsers are built on open standards, and anyone can make one, so there should be browsers that can auto-skip Prime ads, right?

Wrong, alas. Back in 2017, the W3C – the organization that makes the most important browser standards – caved to pressure from the entertainment industry and the largest browser companies and created "Encrypted Media Extensions" (EME), a "standard" for video DRM that blocks all adversarial interoperability:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

This had the almost immediate effect of making it impossible to create an independent browser without licensing proprietary tech from Google – now a convicted monopolist! – who won't give you a license if you implement recording, ad-skipping, or any other legal (but dispreferred) feature:

https://blog.samuelmaddock.com/posts/the-end-of-indie-web-browsers/

This means that for Amazon, there's no way to shift value away from the platform to you. The company has locked you in, and has locked out anyone who might offer you a better deal. Companies that know you are technologically defenseless are endlessly inventive in finding ways to make things worse for you to make things better for them. Take Youtube, another DRM-video-serving platform that has jacked up the number of ads you have to sit through in order to watch a video – even as they slash payments to performers. They've got a new move: they're gonna start showing you ads while your video is paused:

https://www.usatoday.com/story/money/2024/09/20/youtube-pause-ads-rollout/75306204007/

That is the kind of fuckery you only come up with when your victory condition is "a service that's almost so bad our customers quit (but not quite)."

In Amazon's case, the math is even worse. After all, Youtube may have near-total market dominance over a certain segment of the video market, but Prime Video is bundled with Prime Delivery, which the vast majority of US households subscribe to. You have to give up a lot to cancel your Prime subscription – especially since Amazon's predatory pricing devastated the rest of the retail sector:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

Amazon's founding principle was "customer obsession." Ex-Amazoners tell me that this was more than an empty platitude: arguments over product design were won or lost based on whether they could satisfy the "customer obsession" litmus test. Now, everyone falls short of their ideals, but sticking to your ideals isn't merely a matter of internal discipline, of willpower. Living up to your ideals is a matter of external discipline, too. When Amazon no longer had to contend with competitors or regulators, when it was able to use DRM to control its customers and use the law to prevent them from using its products in legal ways, it lost those external sources of discipline.

Amazon suppliers have long complained of the company's high-handed treatment of the vendors who supplied it with goods. Its workers have complained bitterly and loudly about the dangerous and oppressive conditions in its warehouses and delivery vans. But Amazon's customers have consistently given Amazon high marks on quality and trustworthiness.

The reason Amazon treated its workers and suppliers badly and its customers well wasn't that it liked customers and hated workers and suppliers. Amazon was engaged in a cold-blooded calculus: it understood that treating customers well would give it control over those customers, and that this would translate market power to retain suppliers even as it ripped them off and screwed them over.

But now, Amazon has clearly concluded that it no longer needs to keep customers happy in order to retain them. Instead, it's shooting for "keeping customers so angry that they're almost ready to take their business elsewhere (but not quite)." You see this in the steady decline of Amazon product search, which preferences the products that pay the biggest bribes for search placement over the best matches:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

And you see it in the steady enshittification of Prime Video. Amazon's character never changed. The company always had a predatory side. But now that monopoly and IP law have insulated it from consequences for its actions, there's no longer any reason to keep the predator in check.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/03/mother-may-i/#minmax

#pluralistic #amazon #enshittification #ads #prime #ad-tech #discipline

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homesick4la · 20 days ago

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homesick — hamzahthefantastic

contains: fluff!!!!! also talks abt feeling anxious and stressed bc i am feeling anxious and stressed lol

summary: after a week long work trip, all you desire is the comfort of your boyfriend.

a/n: short n sweet fic but i might be working on a longer halloween themed one…maybe…heheheh..

you walk off the airplane. you’re exhausted from the busy week you spent working in los angeles.

as much as you loved that city, you were eager to leave it.

when you moved to toronto two years ago, you were nervous. you knew absolutely no one.

but you made great friends. and even got a boyfriend, hamzah.

you two met when you moved into his apartment building. you exchanged glances in the hallways and made small talk in the elevator until you eventually grew closer.

now you two had been together for over a year and moved into an apartment together.

he made toronto feel like home. and god you were homesick.

you walk out of the airport, instantly met by the crisp autumn air. you scan your eyes around, finding hamzah’s honda civic parked right where he promised. hamzah leans against the car, swiping away on his phone.

you approach the car eagerly. the second hamzah sees you, he rushes to grab your suitcase, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“hi beautiful, how was the flight?” he asks as he fits your bags into the trunk of the car.

“it was okay. i couldn’t really sleep. the woman next to me literally had her shoes and socks off- it was all i could focus on.”

a look of disgust washes over his face, “dogs fully out on the plane is crazy.” he laughs.

you two talk for the rest of the ride back home, giving each other a recap on your week apart.

once you arrive home, hamzah carries your bags up to the apartment. you unlock your front door, holding it open for him. he drops them to the floor and instantly, his hands go to your waist.

he snakes his arms around your back, lifting you up in the process. your arms wrap around the top of his shoulders.

your head fits in the crook of his neck like matching puzzle pieces. and the warmth of his skin on your face brings you an immense sense of relief.

all week you’ve been repressing your emotions. there’s been so much going on in your life- drama from family and work. you’ve just been too busy to address any of it.

but now, safe in your boyfriend’s arms, you felt all your emotions began to resurface.

you sigh into his embrace, feeling tears threatening to fall from the corner of your eyes.

“you okay?” he questions. his voice is soft and his tone is gentle.

that simple question makes you fall apart. you can’t help but cry on his shoulder.

“i missed you so bad.” you let out through your cries.

he sets you down on the ground, bringing his hands to your face and using his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from your eyes. his brows knit together worriedly.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

“just stressed with, everything.” you explain, “feels like i haven’t got a break lately.”

he walks you over to the couch in your living room. he grabs your waist, placing you on his lap.

“you can talk to me about it.” he says, running his hand up and down your back soothingly.

you nod and lay your head on his shoulder once again.

“everything feels so difficult- and i’ve been feeling so anxious all the time and i don’t know how to stop it.” you explain, worried that your emotional rambling made no sense.

hamzah wasn’t sure how he should respond. he was so nervous he might say the wrong thing.

“is there anything i can do?” he asks, sweeping your hair behind your ear with his fingers.

you shake your head, “this is good.” you lean closer into him.

he maneuvers the both of you so that you’re now laying down on the couch. lying there face to face with arms wrapped around one another.

“i wish i could make it all go away.” he whispers.

his voice is so genuine it makes you want to cry even more. you never thought you’d find someone that truly cared about your feelings.

“you make it better.” you smile softly. “it was just hard being away from home.”

he rubs your back lovingly.

he loves that you feel at home in toronto now. he remembered the way you used say you felt out of place in the city.

“i’m sorry you had a hard time on your trip, angel.”

“s’okay.” you reply.

“feels good to have you home.” he says, kissing the top of your forehead. “i was losing my mind over here- had me talking to the cats.”

you laugh at the image of him ranting to red and blue.

“you wanna order food and watch a movie?” he asks softly- knowing just how much comfort you find in a movie night.

“yeah.” you smile.

he releases one arm from his hold on you, pulling out his phone from his back pocket. you start to pull away from his embrace to give him space to order the food.

“no no! c’mere.” he demands, hooking his arm back around you and holding his phone in his hands behind you. he continues to type away on his phone with you in between his arms.

you giggle at this. you absolutely loved when hamzah was clingy with you.

“thai food?” he questions.

“mhm, you know me so well.”

you two spend the rest of your night eating too much food on your couch while watching all of your favorite rom-coms.

hamzah makes an effort to make you laugh all night, cracking numerous jokes during each movie and pretend snoring during the less exciting scenes.

your boyfriend doing everything he could to cheer you up meant the absolute world to you. you were so so happy to be home.

a/n: feeling like this is so so cringe but i think that about everything i write lol but i wrote this quick and did not proofread so sorry lol k bye muah

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #slushy virus #hamzah x y/n #hamzah fluff #hamzah fic

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infiniteglitterfall · 7 months ago

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A Chabad synagogue in Pomona, New York, burned to the ground on April 17th, along with its three Torah scrolls.

Torah scrolls are hand-written, hand-made, and kept in elaborately decorated cases or wrappings.

Many of them have long histories; my synagogue has two, I think, that were smuggled out of villages being destroyed in pogroms or in Nazi attacks. One of them is the only remaining piece of that village on earth.

Sometimes, the Torah scroll doesn't even belong to the synagogue, but is on loan from a place like the Memorial Scrolls Trust:

There's an entire Jewish holiday just for taking them out and dancing with them: Simchat Torah, "The Joy of Torah."

In fact, that was the holiday on which Hamas's invasion took place.

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So it's a particular tragedy when a Torah is destroyed.

Chabad itself has a page about what goes into making just one Torah scroll:

"An authentic Torah scroll is a mind-boggling masterpiece of labor and skill. Comprising between 62 and 84 sheets of parchment -- cured, tanned, scraped and prepared according to exacting Torah law specifications -- and containing exactly 304,805 letters, the resulting handwritten scroll takes many months to complete.

"An expert pious scribe carefully inks each letter with a feather quill, under the intricate calligraphic guidelines of Ktav Ashurit (Ashurite Script). The sheets of parchment are then sewn together with sinews to form one long scroll. While most Torah scrolls stand around two feet in height and weigh 20-25 pounds, some are huge and quite heavy, while others are doll-sized and lightweight."

I learned all of this on Tumblr.

Once upon time, in people's "punch Nazis" days, I would've been able to find some mention on Tumblr of this synagogue burning.

There is none, so I'm posting about it.

And I'm going to quote Daniel Weiner, Rabbi of Temple de Hirsch Sinai in Bellevue, Washington, when his own synagogue was vandalized last November:

"It’s horrific and heartbreaking.... [Taking out your feelings about] what's going on in the Middle East by defacing a sacred space of a synagogue -- that’s the very definition of antisemitism."

I'm also posting about the Kehillat Shaarei Torah Synagogue in Toronto, whose windows were broken on Friday, April 19th, by someone who also tried to break the front door down.

And the April 15 graffiti outside a Bangor, Maine synagogue that said, "Nazi Israel 30K murdered," next to a crossed-out Star of David. The same synagogue faced pro-Hamas flyers plastered around it in November.

I was going to include all the synagogues vandalized over the past six months. But there are way too many. Several every week. Lots are swastikas.

I'll go back to just doing attacks on and near synagogues.

Someone has to talk about the 1-year-old who was stabbed outside Temple Beth Zion-Beth Israel (BZBI) synagogue, in Philadelphia, on April 13th.

The foiled terrorist attack on a Moscow synagogue on April 11th.

The man who, on April 9th, screamed at the rabbi at Moldova's Great Synagogue, "What are you doing here? How come no one has finished you off for everything you are doing to the Palestinians?" Just one week after people had vandalized a Holocaust memorial in nearby Soroka, and sprayed "Free Palestine" on it.

The Oldenburg, Germany synagogue that was firebombed on April 5th.

The Florida Las Olas Chabad Jewish Center, which on March 16 burned, but not to the ground. The Torah scrolls were safe, and no one was hurt, but the back of the building was severely damaged.

The planned-but-thwarted-on-March-7th ISIS massacre in a Moscow synagogue.

The stabbing of an Orthodox Jew in Switzerland on March 5th. (He was badly injured, but expected to survive.)

A man leaving a synagogue in Paris was beaten on March 3rd.

People set the courtyard of a synagogue in Sfax, Tunisia on fire on February 27th. Firefighters managed to put the fire out before it consumed the inside of the building.

The synagogue is no longer used; there are no Jews left in its area, and fewer than 1,000 Jews left in Tunisia overall.

(Thousands of Tunisian Jews were sent to work camps during the Holocaust. Antisemitism across the Middle East continued to increase rapidly for decades. By the 1970s, 90% of Tunisian Jews had fled to France or Israel.)

On February 18, an Orthodox Jew leaving Synagogue of Inverrary-Chabad in Lauderhill, Florida, was beaten by an attacker yelling racial slurs.

Someone deliberately chose International Holocaust Remembrance Day, January 27, to smash all the windows in the front of Sgoolai Israel Synagogue in downtown Fredericton, New Brunswick.

On December 29, Turkey arrested 32 people linked to ISIS who were planning attacks on synagogues and churches.

On December 17, a man drove a U-Haul truck up onto the sidewalk between a barrier and the front door of the Kesher Israel Congregation in Washington D.C., got out, and started yelling "Gas the Jews." He also sprayed a foul-smelling substance on two people leaving the synagogue.

December 17 also saw 400 synagogues across the United States receive bomb threats.

On December 11, a man attacked an elderly couple on their way into a synagogue in Los Angeles, screaming, "Give me your earrings, Jew!!" and beating one of them bloody with a belt. (Happily, he chased the guy down the street, and caught him when his pants fell down.)

On December 10, a 16-year-old was arrested in Vienna for planning an attack on a synagogue.

On December 8, on the first night of Hanukkah, 15 synagogues in New York State received bomb threats. And someone screamed, "Free Palestine," and fired shots outside of Temple Israel in Albany, NY. Which has a preschool that was in session.

Meanwhile, the five Jews left in Egypt were canceling public Hanukkah candle-lighting at their synagogue out of fear of reprisals. Particularly after two Israelis in Alexandria had been gunned down by terrorists on October 8. (While Israel was still fighting Hamas in Israel.)

On November 15, a terrorist group set the only synagogue in Armenia on fire.

Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA) has a history of working with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP).

(PFLP is part of Hamas's network of groups. Samidoun is their nonprofit arm - which is why Germany banned Samidoun last year, although it's still active in many other countries.

PFLP is also actively supported by the Palestinian Youth Movement (PYM), a diaspora nonprofit group, and Within Our Lifetime (WOL), an SJP spinoff in NYC.)

On November 11, halfway through Shabbat services, police asked Central Shul in Melbourne, Australia to evacuate "as a precaution" due to a "pro-Palestinian" protest that had chosen the neighboring park as its gathering place. Australia has seen some very outspoken antisemitism at protests, including the march shortly after October 7 that chanted "Gas the Jews."

Also on November 11, protesters targeted a synagogue along a march route. They sat in their cars, spraying green smoke and shouting at people leaving the synagogue. The march itself featured a record number of horrifying signs and chants.

On November 7th, Congregation Beth Tikvah in Montreal was firebombed, and the back door of the Jewish organization across the street (Federation CJA) was set on fire.

On November 4, protesters chanted "Bomb Israel," and burned an Israeli flag outside the only synagogue in Malmo, Sweden.

During October, there were 501 antisemitic acts under investigation in France in just three weeks, including groups gathering in front of synagogues shouting threats, and graffiti such as the words “killing Jews is a duty” sprayed outside a stadium.

On October 18, people firebombed a synagogue in Berlin after homes all over the neighborhood were graffitied with stars of David.

And also on October 18, hundreds of "pro-Palestine" rioters attacked the Or Zaruah Synagogue, in the Spanish enclave of Melilla in North Africa, while worshippers were inside.

Based on the video, they seem to have blocked the synagogue entrance completely, while screaming "Murderous Israel" and waving Palestinian flags. (Melilla is an autonomous zone belonging to Spain. It borders Morocco.)

On October 17, during pro-Palestinian protests, hundreds of rioters set fire to Al Hammah synagogue, an abandoned house of prayer in central Tunisia. They hammered down the building’s walls and raised a Palestinian flag on the building. Police did not intervene.

The Facebook page "Tunigate", which has around 88 thousand followers, published a video of the assault. So did "Radio Bousalem”, with 83 thousand users. The vast majority of comments on these videos welcome these acts. The building was severely damaged and almost completely razed to the ground.

On October 15, bomb threats were sent to many East Coast synagogues. Attleboro synagogue Congregation Agudas-Achim received one of the emails, which read, "The bombs will blow up in a few hours. A lot of people will die. You all deserve to die."

On October 8 -- again, while Hamas was still in Israel -- Madrid’s main synagogue was defaced with graffiti that read “Free Palestine” next to a crossed-out Star of David.

And on October 7, an assailant in Rockland, NY fired a BB gun at two women entering a synagogue. Later in the month, a banner at the Stephen Wise Free Synagogue in the area was vandalized with the words, “Fuckin kikes."

#if you have used “Free Palestine” as if it's a sort of verbal assault you can shout in comments or scribble over flyers #if you are unwilling to hear what the Jewish term Zionism means to the people who use it #if you cannot name one Palestinian human rights activist #and most of all if you don't know how Hamas abuses Palestinians and you still think it's The Resistance #then you. are. the. problem.#if you don't know people in gaza have been protesting Hamas and blaming it for deliberately instigating a war they don't want #if you don't know how often they've spoken out about Hamas stealing aid and selling it to them #and especially if you don't want to believe me much less find Palestinians in Gaza to listen to #also if you didn't know about any of the stuff in this post BUT you have taken it upon yourself to tell Jews that “it's not antisemitism”#like seriously everyone deal with your learned distrust of Jews challenge #wall of words #fire tw #guns tw #violence tw #Instagram

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bueckerrss · 6 months ago

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SWEET LOVE - CAITLIN CLARK

summary𞠬: hiii could you write caitlin clark x reader where she has a crush on a singer in the same level as taylor swift (like super famous, eyes on them all the time etc etc etc) pls and thank u!!

- warnings: none? at least i don’t think so

-taglist: @patscorner @wintersstan @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @breeloveschris @endereies

masterlist | navigation | 2

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

THE FLASHING LIGHTS of cameras being as blinding as it could be, people were shouting your name to get your attention and snap pictures of you.

as you made your way to the entrance of the building you were stopped by an interviewer “y/n! i’m john winston, is it okay if i ask you a few questions?” he asked pushing the microphone towards you.

“of course!” you replied with a smile “alright first question, who did your hair and makeup today?” he started “my stylist linda did my hair and makeup she really knows what she’s doing” you replied with a smile.

they asked you typical questions you’d always get in these events. “okay one last question before i let you go, we’ve noticed recently that you have been watching women’s college basketball who would you say is your favorite team and players?” he questioned looking up from his paper.

“my favorite teams and players?” you repeat the question “that’s a difficult question for players i would say either caitlin clark or kate martin, now for teams i don’t know actually i don’t have a favorite just yet” you replied with a smile and nodding your head. “there you have it guys she doesnt have a favorite team yet! thank you so much for your time y/n” he replied with a smile before walking off.

caitlin was scrolling through tiktok when she came across clips from last night’s interview, she paid attention to everything you had to say until the last question “that’s a difficult question for players i would say either caitlin clark or kate martin, now for teams i don’t know actually i don’t have a favorite just yet” your voice rang from the phone in her hand. “woah what” she said sliding her hand to go back to that specific question.

“i’m her favorite player? wait she knows who i am?!” she thought a smile creeping into her face. this was something big for caitlin you’ve been her crush since 2018, she loved everything about you from your music to how you interacted with your fans.

this was her chance, “should i dm her? no she probably gets too many dms and mine would get lost” she said responding to her own question before she could do anything she got a notification; “your.username just posted.”

liked by madisonbeer and 1,200 others

your.username: thank you toronto! 💕

user: best concert ever 🫶

user: i think i lost my voice 😭

↳︎︎ user: frrrr my throat hurtsss 💀

user: come to iowa next !

↳︎︎ your.username: 👀

user: what city/state next??

︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ↳︎︎ your.username: cleveland, ohio 😛

↳︎︎ user: doesn’t iowa have a game there ??

you arrived at your hotel room, dropping all your bags by the tv jumping on the bed. a loud sigh escaped your mouth, the flight was so long and there was a kid behind you kicking your seat like his life depended on it.

you were slowly falling asleep but your phone buzzed then lit up with a notification.

“we’re getting food downstairs, join us we have a few things to speak to you about”

your manager texted, you sighed getting out of bed and putting your shoes on. you head to the elevator, clicking the button that heads to the first floor you send back a quick “omw” text to your manager the door opens you accidentally bump into someone who was getting out.

“i’m so sorry” you say looking up to see those dazzling brown eyes, the ones you’ve only seen on tv. “it’s okay don’t…worry” she said softly looking down at you.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

a/n: surprise surprise this is me introducing a new mini series for caitlin i hope yall enjoy this one:)

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #wlw post #wlw #wlw love #lgbtq #lesbian #wcbb #wcbb x reader

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chukys-mouthguard · 2 months ago

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good graces

you do something suspect, this cute ass bye-bye

featuring -> william nylander x female reader

genre -> angst/fluff

word count -> 1.35k

-> short n’ sweet masterlist

“Have you seen Willy on Spittin’ Chiclets yet?”

Your friend called to you from the kitchen as she started on making drinks while you were taking a bit longer on your makeup than you would’ve liked.

“Fuck I forgot, let me pull it up.”

You and William had been seeing each other for almost nine months now, though not putting a label on it things were pretty serious. Having taken numerous trips together, William constantly spoiling you, all while telling you he couldn’t imagine his life not getting to be your guy.

He’d gotten invited onto the Spittin’ Chiclets podcast and you were excited to watch. It was one of your favorite shows, but you also were anticipating them to ask William some hilarious questions.

“Okay so, we gotta ask. You’re a young guy here in Toronto, dare I say you’re a stud! What’s the dating scene like here in Toronto? You tied down by a lucky lady, what do you have going on?”

William chuckled as you quickly flashed your eyes to the screen of your cell phone, seeing the way he blushed at them asking the question. While you knew this podcast had been filmed several weeks ago, you were still aware of what his answer should be, at least from your perspective. But as he hesitated, and stumbled over his words you could feel your grip on your eyeliner tightening.

“Yeah um, I’m definitely here for a good time. Not really tied down, just enjoying my time here for sure with whoever comes into my life. But, I like to think I do alright for myself.”

Pausing the video you emerged from the bathroom to find your friend with the same look of shock on her face as you currently had on your own.

“Are you joking?”

“He’s fucking dead. Not really tied down? Is he stupid?”

You couldn’t believe William had actually said those words, not really tied down. Had the last nine months been something casual and meant nothing to him? Here you were ready to go out to dinner with him and some friends, but now all you could repeat through your brain was that interview.

“What are you gonna do?”

You headed over to the bar cart, grabbing a shot glass and the tequila. Throwing back a shot before you hurried back to finish your makeup.

“I can’t bail, but he’s going to see a side of me he won’t like if he doesn’t acknowledge it, that's for sure.”

You’d arrived at the restaurant, the few tequila shots you’d tossed back calming your frustrations a bit, though you were still upset with William. Not wanting to ruin the night you figured the least you could do was power through a dinner and not give away any sign you were unhappy with him.

But as the dinner unfolded, it was as if anything William did was coming across as suspect. The way he smiled at the waitress, calling her sweetheart anytime she’d checked in or brought him something. The way he would place his hand atop hers anytime she’d stop by the table and ask if he needed anything. Your anger only building as you thought back to his comments on the podcast, rolling your eyes thinking that everything with him was just a casual fling to him. Despite how much he’d meant to you.

He caught you staring at him from across the table, you’d opted to sit across from him versus next to him so you could give yourself a bit of space to try and give him the opportunity to notice your mood. But he didn’t necessarily catch on, acting as if things were normal other than where you’d chosen to sit.

With dinner wrapping up, you’d all chosen to go to one of the bars down the street. William now noticed how you were walking arm in arm with your friend rather than by his side. He called out to you, simply getting the cold shoulder as you elected to keep walking as if you hadn’t heard him. Your mind focused on getting to the bar and getting some more drinks in your system, needing to channel your frustrations through alcohol and dancing.

William opted to sit with the group, watching you dancing on the floor with your friend. Figuring that he’d done something to piss you off, but he didn’t know what. Usually the two of you could talk through things, but it was clear you had no desire to talk to him tonight. And he knew better than to push you or force anything on you, simply giving you the space you wanted.

His eyes followed you as you made your way to the bar, a guy soon approaching you as you ordered a drink. William fully expected you to kindly dismiss the man, but instead he saw you laughing and smiling. Your hand resting on the man’s forearm as you were clearly enjoying yourself. He tossed back his drink in frustration as he stood up, making his way to the bar to step in before you’d do anything further to really anger him.

“Hey, everything okay?”

William smiled down at you as he rested a hand at your lower back, flashing his eyes to the gentleman with a bit of a glare. Only to be met with a smile as the man had recognized the blonde haired Maple Leaf that stood before him.

“Yeah, William, you know Joey. Joey Loperfido, outfield for the Blue Jays. He’s actually a really big Leafs fan!”

“How are you man? I’m a big fan of yours as well! I was actually at the game last week, great win!”

The two of them shook hands, though Joey sensed some tension and kindly excused himself.

��Really Willy? I was making friends.”

“Friends? Is that what you called that? I saw from a mile away you were flirting with the guy!”

He scoffed as he rolled his eyes, taking the spot in front of you at the bar as he signaled the bartender for another drink.

“Like you care? This is just enjoying time with whoever comes into your life, remember?”

William looked at you confused, unsure as to what you were talking about. Making you laugh as you sipped your drink, rolling your eyes as you found it hilarious he was trying to play dumb.

“I heard you on the Spittin’ Chiclets podcast, don’t play dumb! Has the last nine months meant nothing to you? I mean, you tell me all the time how much you love being my guy, but could’ve fooled me with the answer you gave Biz and Whit.”

William immediately brought a hand to his face, groaning as he realized now what you were referring to.

“Y/n, baby, look at me.”

He brought his hands to your face, despite your trying to push him away. A smile on his face as he looked at you.

“The Spittin’ Chiclets podcast is the last place I would ever want to confirm or announce you as my girlfriend.”

Your eyes went wide hearing him call you his girlfriend, the title not being something he’d ever used before. And while you wanted to be mad at him for what he said, it was hard hearing how amazing it felt hearing him finally call you his girlfriend.

“Wait, like, we are official now? I’m your girlfriend?”

“If you’ll have me as your boyfriend? Though after tonight I’m not so sure.”

Quickly you pulled his lips to yours, feeling amazing to kiss him after being distant from him all night. He smiled into the kiss, assuming that was your answer. And it was a good enough answer for him.

“But so help me god William Nylander, if you ever say some dumb shit like that again, you do not want to bring out my mean side.”

He chuckled at your scolding as he stole another kiss from you.

“Oh trust me babe, tonight I got a taste of it tonight and I’m staying in your good graces if it’s the last thing I do!”

#William nylander #william nylander x female reader #william nylander x reader #william nylander fic #william nylander imagine #william nylander fluff #nhl imagine #nhl fics #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb

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shmaptainwrites · 9 months ago

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — James has a huge crush on his labmate, the only question is how long will it take him to ask her out? (Answer: it's longer than you think)

WARNINGS — cancer mentions, patient death from cancer, drugs, alcohol (don't be mistaken this fic is tooth-rotting fluff)

NOTE — Okay this fic has come up from my compulsory need to elaborate on anything Canadian so if you ever wanted to see James at McGill, this fic is most definitely for you! Also I guess it's indirectly mentioned that reader was raised in Quebec, but obviously doesn't have to be "Quebecois" for this to work

Pronounciation — Jian = Chyehn

James chewed on the inside of his cheek as he walked up to the Stewart Biological Sciences Building on McGill campus. For some reason, it was so much more intimidating now that he was actually a student. During the tour he had his mother’s reassuring hand on his back, his father’s words of comfort that he would most definitely be accepted when he applied.

Now that he had made it, he had to prove he belonged, but it could have been worse. His friends at Harvard and the University of Toronto had told him so. He was getting the best of both worlds, a prestigious school and, hopefully, not as much pressure as the rest of them.

Without loitering any longer, he made his way inside and looked around to find the right lecture hall. It couldn’t possibly be that hard, could it?

After his first semester James had realized he’d made a few mistakes. One was living in a French speaking part of town without knowing a lick of the language, but that one was the easiest to deal with. The others were more in the realm of the amount of sleep he was getting and underestimating how much content the professors could shove down their throats in 14 weeks.

He was more than happy to return to New Jersey for the holiday break to rest and recuperate before going back to the winter wonderland hell that was Montreal, but this time he was confident he would be more prepared.

And for the most part, he was. He got enough sleep, partied responsibly (except Fridays, he partied hard then), always submitted his work on time and maintained his good GPA, making up for his poor fall semester. What he didn’t expect, however, was a distraction.

When you walked into the room James watched you curiously, he thought maybe he’d seen you somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place it. Besides, you were much more interesting than watching his sample boil for another five minutes.

You came and took a seat next to him, taking out your safety goggles and lab notebook from your bag before shoving it under the table.

“You’re sample’s boiling over,” you said, but James didn’t register you were talking to him at first, still looking at you in a slightly dazed manner before you physically pointed to the beaker, making his eyes go wide as he frantically turned down the heat and removed it.

“It’s a wonder you passed the lab safely quiz,” you teased and James blushed.

“Good thing I don’t want to be a chemist.”

“Oh, and what do you want to be then?” you asked, preparing your own sample for boiling.

“A doctor,” he shared with a little more confidence.

“Any specialty in mind or just a doctor,” you said, doing air quotes over the word.

“I’ve been shadowing some of the researchers in the Life Sciences Research Complex and I think oncology might be a good fit for me.”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t have to boil cancer cells you should be fine,” you assured him.

“What about you?” he rolled on the balls of his feet as he continued his experiment. “Or are you all talk?”

“Pfft, you think I’d be here if I was all talk?” you asked. “No, I want to be a medical researcher.”

“Maybe you should do some shadowing in the LSRC then.”

“No thanks, I think I’ll stick to my job there.”

“Your job?” James looked at your wish surprise. “Aren’t you like 18?”

“Almost,” you smiled.

“How did you manage to get a job there? They barely let undergraduates in the labs, let alone be responsible for anything.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” you assured him. “I just do cataloguing for now, but it's a good experience.”

“Still,” he raised his brows, “you must be like a prodigy or something.”

“Again, no,” you shook your head. “Just someone who goes after what she wants.”

There was a comfortable pause where you both took down your distillation set ups and began working on the filtration portion of the experiment.

“So what’s your name, anyways?” you asked, looking over at him. “Hey, look, clamp it this way,” you demonstrated and he followed your lead, seeing how much more stable the glassware was afterwards.

“Thanks,” he smiled. “I’m James.”

You told him your name and continued your work again in silence.

Chemistry labs quickly became the favourite part of James’ week.

Ever since that lab, James began to see you in all his classes. On more than a few occasions, he’d had to steal notes from his friends on account of forgetting to pay attention. It became an easy thing to tease him about, so his friends began calling him heart-eyes, because who was he kidding, he had a crush.

“Get your head out of your ass, heart-eyes, I am not giving you my notes again,” his friend, Carlo, shoved his arm and whispered harshly as he could see him getting distracted.

“Sorry,” James shook his head and began scribbling down what he had missed, his eyes darting back and forth from the board and back to you.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Pierre asked him after class. “Don’t you talk all the time in the lab?”

“More like I stare at her and she says stuff to make it not awkward,” he cringed at his own actions. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Every time I’m with her I can’t string together a sentence, and– Jesus Christ you should have seen my face last week! Full on red, like I can’t even be subtle about it!”

“Yikes,” Jian grimaced.

“It’s bad, I know,” James assured.

“And this is why we call you heart-eyes,” Carlo patted James on the back.

“Yeah, say it a little louder, maybe she’ll hear you,” James said sarcastically.

“Who’ll hear you?” the group of boys heard a voice behind them and all their eyes went wide as they spun around and saw you.

“No one!” Jian was quick to answer in the least nonchalant way possible, making the rest of the group, especially James, stare daggers at him.

“It’s not no one,” Carlo attempted to save face. “Just… this girl back in uh New Jersey that James’ got the hots for,” he gained confidence with every word of the sentence before adorning a smug smile on his face and patting James yet again on the back.

“You’re afraid a girl in New Jersey will hear you?” you looked curiously at James but he just stared blankly at you. “So you call him heart-eyes?” you instead turned your attention to his friends and they nodded. “That’s cute, maybe I’ll call you that too.”

“Sure,” was all a red faced James could get out before you excused yourself to head over to work.

Pierre was trying very hard to keep a straight face while you walked away and James slapped both Carlo and Jian upside the head.

“What the hell was that! Could you not have been more obvious, Jian? And Carlo, a girl back in New Jersey? Now she thinks I’m pining for someone else!”

“On the plus side, maybe she’ll think all your blushing around her is a circulation issue,” Pierre shrugged.

“You guys are the worst,” James shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, continuing to walk along the path to one of the libraries.

“No, we just saved your ass,” Carlo caught up with him. “However terribly, but if we didn’t say anything you would have stared at her with your mouth open like a trout.”

“Carlo does have a point,” Jian agreed, “At least we bought you a little time to get your act together.”

James sighed, “You guys have too much faith in me.”

“You said that when I started to teach you French and you’ve come a long way with that,” Pierre said.

“Yeah, sure I went from saying nothing to being able to say Je m'appelle James et je ne parle pas français.”

“And what a handy sentence that is when you don’t speak French!” Pierre grinned and James couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head.

“Okay, I’ll try and get my act together and ask her out…and learn more French.”

“That’s the spirit!” Carlo patted his back. “Now let’s go get a drink and relax.”

“Maybe after we study for our physics midterm?” James nudged his friend and Jian nodded his head in agreement.

“Fine, I guess if we have to,” Carlo sighed.

“Not everyone is naturally good at kinematics, Carlo. Take pity on us mere mortals who have to study,” Pierre responded, eliciting a chuckle from his buddies.

James was quiet as he thought to himself. If he could get a B on this physics test, maybe there was hope for him getting his act together after all.

—

Summer break rolled around faster than James had expected. While Jian went back to Richmond, Pierre over to Quebec City, and Carlo to Chicago, James was left alone in Montreal, working to help pay his tuition for the next year. Being an international student was no joke.

He would have gone back to New Jersey, but the positions he applied to in Montreal paid more so it wasn’t a hard decision to make.

His parents would come visit him for some time in July, but for the most part he was alone.

On late nights, he’d make his way to the McDonald’s in the neighbourhood, not knowing enough French to go anywhere else nearby. At least there, most of them spoke enough English to take his order, and if not it was really easy to point to the menu.

“It’s already done?” he asked.

“Give us some credit, hein. We knew you were coming, we had it ready.”

James chuckled and handed him the money for the order, exchanging it for the bag which he took to a table and sat down.

As he was pulling out his fries from his bag he heard the chime of the door and looked up curiously to see who was coming at this time of night.

He stopped what he was doing when he recognized you, watching as you dug through your purse and spoke to the cashier in French. You both laughed about something James couldn’t quite catch and a little while later, after you had paid they handed you a bag and an ice cream cone when James heard you say something about ‘deux cuillères’ taking the utensils they gave you and turing straight towards James’ table, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down.

“I thought you lived in New Jersey,” you said.

James was still stunned that you had noticed him and couldn’t find the words to speak.

“Hey, heart-eyes?” you waved your hand in front of his face. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” he nodded, distracting himself by pulling out his burger from his bag.

“So why aren’t you in Jersey?” you asked.

“Work. I got a job here, it paid better.”

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully while eating some of your fries. “And all your friends?”

“Back with their families, unfortunately for me,” he nodded. “W-What about you?”

“Oh, I live here,” you shrugged. “In this neighbourhood actually.”

“You live here?” he asked.

“That’s what I said,” you nodded.

“And so that’s how you know French?”

“Every kid in Quebec learns French, it’s kind of a non-negotiable,” you shared. “I gather that’s why you’re eating here.”

“Yeah, Pierre didn’t manage to teach me enough before he left,” he sighed and started to eat his meal.

“I could teach you if you want. I’m taking a little break this summer so I have some spare time,” you offered.

“Oh, I don’t want to-,”

“James, you’re gonna have a shitty summer if you don’t say yes.”

He couldn’t argue with that, it would be nice to communicate more with the people who lived around him.

“Okay, sure, but I’m warning you, I’m a terrible student.”

“I used to tutor one of my siblings, trust me it can’t be worse than that,” you laughed.

You chatted a little more, finishing your meals but not before you handed James a spoon.

“So this is cuillère then?” he asked. “I-I overheard you talking to Jean.”

“Yeah, your pronunciation isn’t bad either,” you nodded. “Here.”

You pushed the ice cream cone between you and began to eat it with the spoon. James had a bit of a sweet tooth and wouldn’t be one to refuse dessert so he began to share the ice cream cone with you.

“So, are you missing your girl in New Jersey?” you asked and James cursed internally, trying to come up with a lie to tell you.

“Um, no not really,” he shook his head. “I don’t think we would have worked out anyways.”

“Oh, so are your friends still calling you heart-eyes?”

He nodded his head, thinking it was better not to say anything in case he gave himself away.

“It’s good that you recognized you wouldn’t work out before you asked her out,” you said, “Couple guys wanted to go on dates with me this year, but just didn’t seem like the right fit. Plus, I don’t really think I’m looking for anything like that right now.”

James nodded his head again, silently eating the ice cream.

“Ever been in love, James?” you asked.

“That’s a really loaded question to ask someone you cornered in a McDonald’s at 11 P.M.”

You ignored his response and continued,

“I haven’t, it seems like such a big thing, how would you even know if it was love?”

James looked up at the ceiling, silently asking God to not let him say something stupid,

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first.”

“So you have been in love,” you confirmed and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I…I don’t know. Maybe I have.”

“That’s not a very straightforward answer.”

“Then maybe I haven’t. I feel like if it was love, you’d figure it out, eventually.”

You pursed your lips and nodded your head.

“I hope I get to fall in love,” you smiled softly to yourself. “Seems nice.”

“Yeah,” James agreed. “It does.”

—

A few years later…

“So how did it go?” Jian asked, as they sat around James’ small living room.

“It…could have been better,” James sucked in some air through his teeth, recalling a recent memory from earlier that afternoon.

“What the fuck James! You scared the shit out of me! I could have broken the hemocytometer, do you know how much that shit costs?!”

“Sorry!” James quickly apologized and dropped his books down on the nearest surface to help you clean up, making you look up again at him with disdain.

“In the BSC? Really? Now we have to resterilize and all the specimens I have in there are as good as compromised.”

“Shit,” James muttered under his breath, he was usually so much better in the lab, but the second he was with you he became a bumbling mess. “I-I’ll take care of the BSC, I’m so sorry.”

You sighed and removed your gloves, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’s not just boiling water we’re dealing with anymore, James,” you said a little more calmly than before. “You’ve gotta be more careful, okay? I’m not losing my job over this.”

James nodded his head and went to grab the things to sterilize the biological safety cabinet and grab the new specimen from the fridge. So much for trying to get a job at LSRC to impress you.

“I was not built to be a researcher,” James shook his head.

“I mean, it’s not that big of a screw up, you fixed it eventually, didn’t you?” Pierre asked.

“Yeah, but not until after a thorough amount of embarrassment.”

“I thought girls found clumsy guys endearing,” Carlo commented.

“Not when the girl is determined to become the leading medical researcher on the continent,” James sighed. “Maybe taking this job was a bad idea. From what I can see she hasn’t even changed her opinion on dating, she hasn’t been with anyone these past three years.”

“Do you hear that?” Carlo removed his feet from the coffee table and placed them on the ground. “You’ve been in love with her for three years and haven’t done anything about it.”

“Who said I was in love with her? And sure, maybe I haven’t made a move, but I learnt French!” James tried to defend himself, pointing to Pierre.

“That’s not as good of a comeback as you think it is,” Pierre shook his head.

“I know,” James hung his head low and sat on the couch between Pierre and Jian. “We’re gonna graduate in a year and she’s not gonna know I’m in love with her.”

“So you are in love with her?” Jian looked over at his friend sympathetically.

James leaned back and used the heels of his palms to cover his eyes.

“He’s gonna have a meltdown, don’t ask him that,” Pierre shook his head.

“God, I do love her!” he exclaimed like he was just finding it out for the first time himself.

“What did I say,” Pierre sighed.

“Can I make it stop?” James looked over at his friends who all shrugged. “I am so screwed.”

“This time, I think we agree with you,” Carlo took a sip of his drink. “Good luck, man.”

James squeezed his eyes shut, he would definitely need it.

—

The year passed to graduation and James was still sitting on his feelings. It was much too late now to say anything. You’d already been accepted to a graduate program through your work with the LSRC and James had passed his MCAT with flying colours and was on his way to medical school at Columbia.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was going to miss Montreal, the city had grown on him during his time there and a part of him wished he could stay.

His friends were also ready for the next stages in their studies, all going to different places across the continent to get their other degrees, with, of course, the promise to stay in touch.

James didn’t know what the next little bit of his life had in store for him, but he hoped regardless of where he ended up, maybe he’d be able to make up for his missed opportunities.

The years of medical school, once started, passed faster than James expected them to, and by the end of it, much to his own surprise, he’d also gotten married.

You were almost all but forgotten in the back of his mind, but time continued to play its games.

Medical school turned into a specialization in oncology, and a divorce. Then residency and a marriage. Then a second divorce. Then another marriage and more recently a position at a hospital in his hometown, on the board and a well respected oncologist and a few new friends…and a third divorce.

“House, I’m not asking you to let them all sleep in your apartment, it’s just a dinner for one night, we’ll be out and about for the rest of the time that they’re here,” James sighed.

“Can’t you just cancel?” House asked. “Divorce seems like a pretty good reason to get out of a reunion.”

“See, the thing is, I’d rather not be miserable and see my friends instead, and they bought their tickets months ago. Please, House, I’ll do the dishes for a week.”

“A month,” House said.

“Two weeks,” James negotiated and House nodded, so they shook on it.

“Good, now that I’ve done you a favour, you can do me one,” House smiled, but the kind of smile that was conniving, like he had something up his sleeve all along.

“I paid you in chores for my favour, who says I owe you anything?”

“Unless you want me to call your friends and cancel for you, you’ll do it,” House continued to walk the hospital’s hallways hobbling with his cane.

“What is it?” James sighed, catching up with him.

“We have a patient and he doesn’t speak very good English, but he does speak French. You went to McGill didn’t you? Must have picked up some of the love language.”

“Unfortunately for me in this case, I did,” he nodded.

“Perfect, come with me now,” House motioned with his head to the patient’s room and James trailed behind him.

When he entered the room, House motioned for him to begin speaking. James hadn’t spoken a lot of French since his undergrad so he was definitely rusty, but he supposed it was better than nothing and began to explain that he would be helping with the translation.

“Erm, Bonjour, je suis Dr. Wilson, je vais aider Dr. House avec la traduction.”

The man looked at James strangely before saying.

“You’re an anglophone, but you speak French like you’re Quebecois.”

“I um did my undergraduate in Montreal, I learnt how to speak there,” James responded back in French.

“Hmm.”

James could tell this wasn’t going to be fun. Some of the French held quite a bit of hate towards Quebec, who knew why, but his accent definitely wasn’t going to help him in this situation.

House got James to ask some routine medical history questions and a few things about his symptoms all the while James had to filter out all the insults that were coming his way with regards to his “poor use of language” and “unintelligible accent”.

When he could finally leave the room, James let out a string of French curses under his breath, still thinking in the other language.

“House, why can’t you just get a proper translator?” he asked. “I’m terrible at this.”

“Cuddy said something about making a big purchase recently and being currently unable to do so, especially since you put that you speak French in your resume. Bet you’re regretting that one now.”

“Yeah,” James nodded his head. “Big time.”

They began to walk towards the elevator to go to the cafeteria for lunch, when James decided to inquire more about Cuddy’s big purchase.

“Oh, she said something about money this, medical research that,” House shook his head, “You know I stopped listening the second she wouldn’t give me what I wanted.”

“She hired a medical researcher,” James said aloud, chewing on the words, “I wonder who she-,”

His train of thought was cut off when he saw, near the elevator, a face he hadn’t seen since graduation day at McGill.

Quickly, unable to think of anything else to do, he ran into the administrative area and hid crouched down behind a photocopier.

House watched his friend curiously before walking over towards him and leaning against the copier asked him if he’d gone insane.

“No, I just, um, remembered I needed to copy some patient files,” he lied.

“You don’t have any with you,” House said.

“I faxed them from my office,” he lied again.

“I think I need to go get Foreman, clearly you’re having a neurological breakdown,” House said.

“Can you just stop making it obvious I’m here?!” James exclaimed in a whisper.

Unfortunately for him, as you were walking past, his harsh whisper made his location obvious, causing you to look down and see his familiar face.

“Oh my God, heart-eyes, is that you?” you asked with a smile and James pressed his lips in a thin line and nodded. “What are you doing down there?”

James became speechless and suddenly he was an eighteen-year-old back in his chemistry lab.

“He’s checking to see if we need more toner,” House said, lying for his friend, but James knew that was all he would get out of him. “Well, that’s my cue to leave, you guys have fun.”

You reached down and offered James a hand, helping him back into a standing position.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” you commented. “Like since we were-,”

“22,” James filled in and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you bit your lip before asking him how he had been.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I-I’m assuming you’re the medical researcher Cuddy hired?”

“That would be correct,” you smiled.

“Why did you choose to work here? I thought you were some big hotshot in Canada?”

“I am a big hotshot, which is why I wanted to come to a teaching hospital. I thought maybe it would give more opportunities to teach other people what I know. It’s a win-win. I get to do what I want to and the hospital gets grant money from my research,” you explained. “It looks like you got where you wanted to be too, Mr. Oncologist.”

“Actually it’s Dr. Oncologist,” he joked and you laughed, making his cheeks go red after hearing the sound.

“I missed having you around, James. We should catch up sometime,” you suggested.

“Yeah sure,” he nodded. “I-I’d love that.”

You excused yourself, needing to go introduce yourself to a class of medical students, waving goodbye to James, leaving him stuck in his tracks for a few moments before he could gather his senses again and head downstairs for lunch.

—

“We could have rescheduled if this was too much, man,” Carlo watched James as he brought a large roast to the table for them to eat.

“See? What did I tell you,” House rolled his eyes and James gave him a disapproving stare.

“No, I wanted you guys to come, we’ve been planning this for months. I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of it,” he assured his friends. “Plus, we know how hard it is to nail down Pierre, I swear you are always travelling. Every time we talk you’re in a different country.”

“That’s the life of a parasitologist,” he shrugged and helped James by beginning to cut the roast.

“And Jian, how’s the wife and kids?”

“They’re good,” Jian smiled. “Mei started first grade in September. Becky and I are both up for promotions at the hospital, so I can’t really complain. Although I think Carlo can.”

“Seriously it’s not that big of a deal,” Carlo groaned, “Sure yeah, pharmaceuticals are more flashy than biophysics, but that doesn’t mean that my research wasn’t better.”

“Well if it was better why did William get the award?” James asked and Carlo just flipped him the bird.

“Didn’t we go to school with him?” Pierre asked.

“We did?” James raised a brow.

“Yeah, for a year, from Toronto, huge stoner. Hated being there and did literally no work, but still managed to get honours,” Jian explained.

“Sounds like my kinda guy,” House commented and James rolled his eyes.

Just as they continued to dish out dinner, House’s pager went off and he sighed, excusing himself from the table while practically threatening James to leave him some food.

When House left, James’ friends saw their opening and began their personal line of questioning.

“Hey, James, are you really okay?” Jian asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” James asked in return.

“You’re getting a divorce,” Pierre said. “Seems like a pretty good reason to not be okay.”

James shook his head,

“Yeah sure, it’s a shitty situation,” he admitted. “Did I imagine myself at this point in my life with three failed marriages? No, definitely not. Can I do anything to change it? Also no, and right now I really wouldn’t want to change it.”

“Can we ask what happened?” Carlo queried.

“She cheated on me, then left me,” James said simply.

“Forgive me,” Pierre said. “But you seemed a lot more upset when we talked over the phone last week. What changed?”

James looked down at his plate and cut into his roast, thinking about what Pierre had said. It was true, even earlier today he was sulking about, that was until he ran into you.

“I swear,” James started, “if you guys make a big deal about this I will murder you all,” he used his knife to point at all of them and they nodded, swearing their silence. “I’ve got heart-eyes again.”

“You met someone new?” Jian asked and Carlo shook his head.

“No, he re-met someone old. Tell me, did your hospital recently hire a medical researcher?”

James nodded his head and the table was about to erupt into a loud chorus of comments when James gave them a look and they all restrained themselves.

“James, I’m being dead serious when I say this, but you should have married her,” Pierre insisted. “I never saw you look at anyone else the way you looked at her.”

“Probably explains the three divorces then, doesn’t it? I was still in love with her the whole time,” James sighed. “It’s going to come up eventually, seems like a pretty big indicator that I’m not good at relationships.”

“Who knows, maybe she won’t care,” Jian offered.

“What was it like when you saw her again?” Carlo asked, looking for any opportunity to tease his friend.

“How do you think it was? I could barely talk, I was a nervous wreck, and blushing like crazy,” he shook his head at the thought of it. “I could literally feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I feel like a middle school girl every time I’m near her.”

“Who knows, maybe she still thinks you have circulation issues,” Jian shrugged and the table laughed.

“What I would give to stay here and watch this play out,” Carlo sighed and leaned back in his seat.

“Knowing James, you’d have to be here for ten years before he made a move on her,” Pierre raised a brow and James threw a piece of potato at him.

“If you ever do get the guts to ask her out, call us. We’ve made bets on this,” Carlo added.

“Real comforting, guys,” James ate a bite of the roast. “I thought this was supposed to be my pity party.”

“Not anymore,” Jian shook his head. “You’ve got heart-eyes.”

This time around, James thought maybe he didn’t mind the nickname as much as he used to.

—

“I would think they’d get you your own office at this point,” James commented as he entered his office, seeing you sitting at his desk, eating a pre-packed lunch.

“Beats me,” you shrugged and continued to eat.

“So you’ve decided that invading my office is your next best bet?”

“Oh hush,” you waved him off with your fork.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to come to a safe place after being verbally assaulted by House’s patient,” he sat on the opposite side of the desk and leaned back in the chair.

“Verbally assaulted?” you asked. “By a patient who isn’t even your own?”

“He doesn’t like the way I speak French,” James rolled his eyes. “I’m translating while they’re treating him since the department used all its money hiring you.”

“What can I say, hotshots cost a lot of money.”

“You know, you could do the translation, probably much better than I can,” he noted.

“I could, but you probably need the practice more than I do, chèri,” you scrunched your nose in a cute mocking way and James could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks yet again. “You still keeping up with that posse of yours?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, they all flew in to visit a few days ago, we’re gonna go out tonight,” he said. “Do you…maybe want to join us?” he suggested.

“I don’t have plans, as long as they’re okay with it I’d love to come,” you smiled.

“Oh trust me, they will definitely be okay with it.”

—

Later that night, James was drinking deeply from his glass while he watched his friends stare blankly ahead at you. If he looked anything like they did all those times his words were caught in his throat, then he hoped to spontaneously combust right then and there.

“Heart-eyes, I thought you said they were okay with me coming?” you leaned over and whispered to him.

James put down his glass and nodded his head.

“They are okay with it, right?”

Snapping out of their daze, the three men nodded their heads and finally began professing assurances that everything was fine.

“It’s just… you said James invited you?” Jian asked with furrowed bows.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “He mentioned you guys were in town and getting together tonight and asked me if I wanted to join.”

James bit down on his tongue trying not to say anything, but also gave his friends a look to shut up before they gave anything away. He knew what was running through their minds, they were wondering how the hell he’d gotten the guts to ask you to come, but there was one fundamental difference between tonight and any other time he could have possibly asked you. This wasn’t a date, therefore, there was no pressure.

“Maybe you could tell them what you’ve been up to since they last saw you?” James suggested.

“Oh, um, well, I got my master’s degree and doctorate at McGill, both for research in cancer biology-,”

“Cancer biology?” Pierre interrupted. “I don’t remember you mentioning you were interested in that.”

“I-I wasn’t initially,” you admitted. “Just after spending more time in the LSRC and a few other irrelevant things I decided it was the best fit for me to focus on.”

“You and heart-eyes make a pretty good pair then,” Carlo raised his eyebrows suggestively and took a sip of his drink.

“I guess we do,” you chuckled. “As long as he leaves the research to me. We all know what he’s like in the lab.”

“I resent that,” James protested only before saying, “but I do deserve it.”

“It’s a miracle he hasn’t had a medical malpractice suit,” Pierre added.

You asked the boys about where their various careers had taken them and how they were each doing. The conversation stayed pretty normal until the topic changed to relationships, starting with Jian’s wife and family back in Vancouver and Pierre’s husband who was currently in Australia doing research on some massive insect.

“What about you Carlo?” you asked. “Anyone special in your life?”

“Nah,” he waved his hand.

“What about the mom of the kid who pet sits for you?” Jian asked.

“That kid charges me per animal, per size. If I were to date his mom he’d probably charge me for dating her too, and I don’t think I can afford his price,” he shook his head and the table laughed.

“James, you’ve been quiet,” you said. “Nothing to share?”

James nervously took a sip of his drink and looked over at his friends for help.

“James hasn’t had the best luck in love,” Pierre settled on.

“Oh, haven’t found anybody, that’s not a big deal,” you assured him. “I haven’t either.”

“Well,” Carlo said in a high-pitched voice. “It’s not exactly that he hasn’t found anybody.”

“So there’s someone-?”

“I’m divorced,” James blurted. “Three times. Or soon to be three anyway.”

“Oh,” you paused and tried to think of the right thing to say, but for the moment settled on nothing while Pierre changed the subject.

After the visit was over, James offered to walk you to your car and you accepted. The walk started off in silence, but you decided to break it.

“You know, I hope you find the right person eventually,” you said. “It’s unfortunate things didn’t work out three times.”

“Yeah,” James nodded in agreement. “I-um, do you ever think about that conversation we had, in the McDonald’s by my apartment?”

“Sometimes I do,” you admitted.

“Looking back on that, I wonder if we ever really loved each other. If we did this probably wouldn’t have happened. We would have fixed things, worked on ourselves instead of just…giving up.”

“So I guess you still haven’t fallen in love yet?” you asked, but he stayed silent. “Whoever it is, I’m sure things will find a way to work out for you.”

“The moment may have passed on that,” he said with his hands shoved in his pockets and looking down at the ground.

“You never know, James. Sometimes life has a funny way of surprising you.”

—

James watched as his colleagues and a few of the students from the university left the lecture hall while he continued to sit in his seat, watching you walk up towards him.

“Don’t you have patients or something?” you asked. “You’re at all of my lectures.”

“Doesn’t it seem appropriate for an oncologist to attend a cancer biology lecture?” he asked as you sat down next to him.

“I suppose so,” you sighed. “Doesn’t explain why you weren’t taking notes though.”

James looked down at his empty hands and cursed a little internally.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I don’t mind the staring, it reminds me of school.”

“You noticed?” he asked.

“You weren’t very subtle,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, not one of my strong suits,” he blushed, embarrassed.

“Do you wanna go grab lunch before your break is over?” you asked and James nodded, standing up and offering you a hand to get out of your seat.

You went to the cafeteria, running into his friend House who managed to get his food paid for by James, yet again, before leaving to go back up to his office and work on another differential diagnosis with his employees.

“Did all the guys get back home safe after their trip?” you asked, digging into your food.

“Carlo and Jian are back home, Pierre went to go be with Ollie in Australia.”

“It must be hard not living near them.”

James sighed and nodded his head. “It’s a balance. When they’re being annoying, it’s great that they don’t live here and when they’re not, it sucks.”

“Spoken like a true friend,” you chuckled.

“What about you? Do you still keep in touch with people from school? During any of your degrees?”

“Not really,” you shook your head. “After my undergrad I became so laser focused on my school I didn’t pay attention to relationships that much outside of my family. Starting to regret it a bit now.”

“Kind of hard to have a good conversation with cancer cells,” James said sarcastically and you shook your head. “Do you like it in New Jersey so far?”

“Not as much as back home,” you admitted, “but it is nice to have a friend here.”

“Yeah, Jersey is…an acquired taste,” he settled on, making you laugh, but your laughter was cut off by the sound of his pager, and he looked down to see what the message was before quickly standing up. “Sorry, I have to-,”

“Don’t worry,” you assured him. “I’ll pack up your food and bring it to your office.”

“Thanks,” he nodded and you waved goodbye as he ran off out of the cafeteria and to the oncology floor to go help one of his patients.

—

James didn’t find himself walking around the campus often, but when he did it was usually because he had to clear his head. With everything that was going on in his life, in addition to the circumstances of this case, he was taking it harder than normal.

He had left his coat in his office as the hot New Jersey sun was already beating down, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes following his feet as he took his steps forward.

He didn’t notice you sitting on a bench as he was passing by. Curious as to his state, you stood up and went to meet up with him.

“Hey James, are you okay?”

Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts almost instantly. He stopped to look up at you, seeing the concern reflecting in your eyes.

He took his hands out of his pockets and motioned for you to walk with him.

“I lost a patient today,” he explained. “He was 11.”

“Oh, James, I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

“In med school you learn pretty quickly if you don’t find a way to deal with what you face every day the result is never good,” he said and you noticed him chewing on the inside of his cheek, “but it was just too sunny outside. How could it be sunny on a day like this?”

You didn’t say anything initially, only intertwining your hand with his and giving it a light squeeze which he returned.

“You know, I think it’s probably okay, every once in a while, to let yourself mourn your patients. Just like everyone else. You have a uniquely difficult job, James, and no one would hold it against you if you need a minute to adjust.”

James stopped walking and you followed his lead, only to have him let go of your hand and pull you into a tight hug. You easily wrapped your arms around his neck while his arms were around your waist.

“You’re a good doctor, James,” you mumbled. “I know, even if you don’t quite believe it right now, you did everything you could to help that young boy and make him more comfortable.”

You could feel him nod his head, clearly not trusting himself to say anything at the moment.

Neither of you wanted to let go, but you knew that you both had work to get back to. James had other patients he was responsible for and you had some work to do in one of the hospital labs.

So silently, hand in hand, you accompanied each other back to the hospital, grateful for each other’s company.

—

“I swear, if I stay there any longer I’m going to go mad,” James whispered to you under his breath as you walked along the halls of the hospital with him to help him run some tests for a few patients.

“What was it this time?” you asked, huddling in closer, waiting for him to spill the beans on why living with his best friend was becoming unbearable.

“He keeps pranking me,” he began to explain and you could see how frustrated he was just by his hand movements. “Last night he thought of the genius idea to put my hand in warm water while I was sleeping and-,” James stopped himself, realizing he’d divulged too much, just as your eyes went wide.

“Oh my God you didn’t wet the bed did you?” you asked in a chuckle and James quickly covered your mouth saying,

“Shh! The whole hospital doesn’t need to hear you!”

You couldn’t hold in your laugh, muffled by James’ hand over your mouth and his cheeks were a bright cherry red.

Eventually you pulled his hand away and said,

“You definitely need to get out of there. That’s criminal.”

“Exactly what I’m saying,” James agreed.

“Hey, why don’t you come over to my place tonight?” you suggested. “We can watch a movie or something together.”

“That sounds like exactly what I need right now,” he nodded his head. “What time?”

“Come over at eight, it’ll give me some time to get snacks and get ready.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he held out his hand and you took it shaking it firmly.

Later that evening while James was getting ready, House watched him curiously.

“I still don’t believe that you blowdry your hair,” he said loudly over the sound of the appliance.

“Believe it or not, I do,” James responded.

“It just seems so pointless, your hair is messy anyways,” he crossed his arms and James gave him a look.

“My hair looks fine, yours on the other hand could use a trim and about a billion other things,” James retorted.

“So, is this a date?” House asked, changing the topic.

“No, it’s not a date,” James shook his head. “It’s an opportunity for me to get away from your insanity.”

“Are you sure it’s not a date?” he asked.

“What makes you think it's a date?” he finally gave in and turned around to face his friend, turning off the blow dryer.

“Well if you asked her if you could come over, probably not a date, but if she offered…” he shrugged his shoulders.

James shook his head, he didn’t want to allow himself to believe it was true, because if it was, he’d probably overthink things and make a fool of himself.

“It’s not a date,” he reiterated and House stopped pressing, seeing as his friend would not be reasoned with.

James finished fixing his hair and grabbed his keys and a coat before stepping out of the door.

It didn’t take him long to drive to your house and when he knocked at the door he heard shuffling inside before the lock clicked and you opened it.

“Hey! You got the dress code memo,” you joked, pointing to his McGill sweater and then back at yours.

“I thought you might like a blast from the past,” he smiled and you invited him inside.

As he entered he noticed the array of pillows on the couch, blankets draped over arm chairs, and books piled on every surface possible. To top it off, the house was currently only lit by lamps allowing a warm orange hue to fall over the space. It made James’ shoulders relax and he could even feel his nervous heart rate slow.

“Do you like it?” you asked. “I am by no means an interior decorator, but I tried to make it feel cozy so it’s nice to come back to after long days at work.”

“I do like it,” James nodded. “A lot. It feels like a home.”

“Perfect, that’s exactly what I was going for,” you smiled. “You’re the first guest I’ve had here, you know?”

“Really? No fancy dinner parties with the hospital board?”

“No, not yet,” you chuckled. “Unfortunately, this guy in the oncology department keeps taking up all my time.”

You grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the couch.

“But don’t worry, I don’t mind.”

After he took off his coat, you both sat down next to each other, James extending his hand along the back of the couch and you naturally sat right up next to him, leaning forward to grab the remote and turn on the movie.

“What did you pick?” James asked.

“Just some random horror movie,” you said. “I heard it’s really cheesy.”

“We’ll see about that,” James raised his brows and grabbed the popcorn from the table, putting it in between you both.

You pressed play once you were both settled and tossed the remote to the side of the couch, curling your legs up and waiting in anticipation for the movie to begin.

It didn’t take long for the horror plot to begin, jumping right into the satanic murders and supernatural deaths. Just as you had predicted, it was cheesy, but that didn’t stop you from being startled whenever something popped up unexpectedly on the screen.

Both of you were lulled into a false sense of security during what seemed like a quiet part of the movie, then, all of a sudden, the killer jumped into the frame with a loud change in the soundtrack, causing you to shriek and move towards James, also feeling him jump slightly from being startled.

You both looked up at each other and laughed at the ridiculousness of your collective fright.

“You’re supposed to be the calm one,” you elbowed him.

“I know it just-Jesus!” James found himself inadvertently closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you as if it would give him some protection from what was on the screen.

You laughed again and leaned closer into his side, patting his leg to assure him it was safe to open his eyes again.

“You must enjoy torturing me, that’s the only explanation for this,” James looked over at you and you shook your head.

“Come on, heart-eyes, you think that lowly of me?”

James couldn’t stop the smile that creeped past his lips, “No, of course not.”

“Good, that means I still have the upper hand,” you moved your head to look back at the TV, but not before James tickled you in retaliation for your words.

It took a moment, but you eventually surrendered and moved your focus back to the movie, still feeling a little warm from your laughter.

You grabbed some of the other candies and snacks from the table, holding a gummy bear up for James to try and he did without so much as a second thought.

“Still have a sweet tooth I see,” you offered him a different candy which he ate again and nodded.

“You don’t want to know how many cavities I’ve had.”

“Here,” you handed him a wrapped treat. “This one’s special from home.”

“Maple candies,” he smiled. “They don’t make ‘em like they do in Montreal.”

“They were your favourite, right?” you asked.

James looked over at you again curiously, “You remembered that?”

“Of course I did,” you shrugged. “Oh wait, look,” you pointed to the TV before grimacing and covering your eyes, but still peeking through your fingers. “Ew!”

James just smiled at you, finding it harder and harder to resist the urge to kiss you, the thought bringing a warm sensation to his stomach.

He settled instead on doing what he’d been doing forever: staring at you with heart-eyes.

—

James tried to fight a yawn as he grabbed one of the many books on the shelves in his office, taking it to his couch and sitting down next to you.

“You don’t have to do this, James,” you told him. “You probably have to be back tomorrow morning, you should go home and rest.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he insisted. “You look in here for that article I was telling you about and I’ll start proofreading.”

There were many papers and files strewn around the couch, you couldn’t remember when you first came in, but James never seemed to mind when you worked in his office instead of your own.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I feel like I brought a tornado in here.”

James looked up from your paper and nodded his head.

“Now hush and let me read.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckled, opening the medical journal he had handed you, flipping through the contents until you found the article title he had mentioned.

James had a pen in his hand, scribbling down annotations on the side, correcting a few typos and grammatical errors.

For the most part, he was able to follow along, but at one point, the words became so incoherent he tapped you to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

“What does this say here?” he asked. “I-I don’t know if my eyes just stopped working, but what does stirring in sugar and eggs have to do with this trial treatment?”

“Oh my God,” you grabbed the paper and looked at it closer. “I must have accidentally copied some of my mom’s cookie recipe on here before changing documents. What in the world is going on with me?”

Maybe it was the exhaustion settling in or some other things James couldn’t quite pinpoint, but he felt himself letting out a chuckle that grew a little longer, and longer until it was a full blown laugh.

It was an honest mistake, and arguably not that funny, but you’d be hard pressed to convince him of that in that moment, and instead, seeing the silliness of the situation, you joined in.

Eventually, when the laughter died down, you and James both leaning far back against the couch, he turned to you and apologized.

“I’m sorry, I should probably read this when I have a bit more sanity.”

“Don’t be,” you patted his leg. “I can always use a good laugh.”

With your heads still turned to face each other, you suggested to pause the work and resume it another time, to which James agreed.

You both continued to sit there in silence, looking over at each other and James caught a glimmer of something in your eyes and had to blink a few times to make sure it was still there. It was a soft look, a little dazed, like you were happily daydreaming about something far off. It took him a moment to realize it, since he had been the one giving that look, he’d never really had a chance to see it for himself.

You had heart-eyes.

And more importantly, you had them while you were looking at James.

With a sudden boost of courage, fuelled by lowered inhibitions, he started by asking,

“Have I ever told you why my friends call me heart-eyes?”

You tilted your head a little, following his lead and sitting up straight.

“Wasn’t it because of that girl you had a crush on that was from here?”

James opened his mouth and then shut it, shaking his head.

“There was never a girl from Jersey,” he admitted.

“Why would they say it was a girl from Jersey if there was…” as you said the sentence you slowed down, the realization dawning on you.

“All the staring makes a bit more sense now?” he asked.

You blinked a few times, “I just thought you were really awkward,” you said.

“I was, but if the staring didn’t give it away the blushing really should have done it,” he chuckled.

“I thought you had a circulation issue!” you exclaimed and James burst out laughing, of course you did. “God, James, why didn’t you say anything?”

James shook his head, “I could barely string out a coherent sentence when I was around you. Makes it a little hard to say anything.”

“Makes me wish I had said something,” you said, feeling your own cheeks heat up at the admission.

“Y-You would’ve said something?”

Now it was James’ turn to be surprised.

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first. That’s what you said to me, but that eventually, if it was love, I’d know it.”

You reached out and held James’ hands in your own.

“I should have said something. I could have said something. We could have had so much more-,”

“James,” you whispered, interrupting him and he stopped. “Shut up and kiss me.”

James wasn’t going to waste another second, removing his hands from your to instead gently hold your face, bringing you closer to him so he could finally do what he had been dreaming about since he was 18 years old.

The dim light of his desk lamp, the papers crumpled beneath and around you, the way you moved closer and slid into his lap, his hands now on your hips and your fingers snaking through his hair, it all melted into one and if you let yourselves imagine, just a bit, the lamp became a light in the library; the papers became unfinished homework assignments and lab write-ups, and you hadn’t missed a second of the time you could have spent together.

Your kisses soon turned slow and repetitive and neither of you wanted to pull away, living in the moment like it was your last.

“When…did you realize…you loved me?” you asked between kisses, moving away from his mouth, instead letting your lips find their way across his jaw and up to his temple.

“Our last year of school,” he paused your kisses so he could kiss you properly again. “Carlo said something and-,” he shook his head and sighed. “I realized I was going to leave without you ever knowing how I felt and even though eventually I thought maybe I’d stopped loving you and started to love other people…I just kept trying to fill that space that only you fit in.”

“First year of my master’s for me,” you rested your forehead against his. “Suddenly you weren’t there anymore and I really wished that wasn’t the case.”

He tilted his head up to meet you in another kiss that was far too easy to melt into. Neither of you had any complaints and you knew you’d never get tired looking into his heart-eyes.

@cuntyvicodin

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you #dr wilson #dr wilson x you #dr wilson x reader #wilson x reader #house md #hate crimes md #greg house #james wilson fanfiction #james wilson fanfic #james wilson/reader

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theslushiestnoob · 1 month ago

Text

THE BOY NEXT DOOR (pt2)

Word count: 2k

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I need more furniture, I decided. My new flat, while nice, was boringly empty - vast expanses of walls remained unadorned, significant areas of the floor unfurnished. I had the basics - a bed, a kitchen, a chair, but I didn’t love any of them; they didn’t scream ‘me’ like I wanted them to.

I set out with the intention of buying a sofa - something plush and deep which I could collapse onto after a long day. As I swiftly discovered, sofas are expensive, and so my options were limited. I settled on a sage green one, padded with large pillows and a complementary throw blanket - included by the overly nice salesmen who seemed to take a particular interest in my customer satisfaction.

Driving through downtown Toronto with a huge green sofa strapped to the roof of my car was not a situation I’d predicted I would find myself in, but I can’t say that it is hugely out of character for me. Arriving at my place soon after, I placed my hands on my hips as I assessed the situation. Me, a sofa currently on top of my car, and four flights of stairs. Things were feeling awfully like an episode of friends before I was interrupted from my thoughts by a high voice.

‘Do you need some help?’

I turned around to face a small, pretty blonde woman standing in front of a tall dark-haired man. Her hair was held out of her face by a claw clip, her outgrown curtain bangs tucked behind her ears. She had a kind expression - the kind of face which you feel comfortable telling all of your darkest secrets to with no doubt of her loyalty. The man behind her held onto her hand affectionately, looking at the sofa with an intrigued expression.

‘Actually, yes please. I need to bring this up to my flat,’ I explain, smiling gratefully at their generosity.

‘I know I offered, but I think this is a job for you, Martin,’ The woman says, turning to rest her hand reassuringly on Martin’s shoulder. He sighs playfully, shooting her a soft smile before stepping toward my car.

‘Alright, Mandy watch out - let's just lift it onto the sidewalk first,’ He instructs, hooking his hands around the leg of the sofa. I mirror his movement, heaving with effort as we lower it onto the pavement. Martin straightens, shaking out his arms. He attempts to lift the sofa up again, but swiftly places it back down.

‘Honestly, I don't think we can do this alone,’ Martin pauses and gestures toward the complex. ‘Our friend lives in this building - he can help us.’

‘That would be perfect, thank you so much,’ I say, returning the smile Mandy gives me.

She pulls out her phone, rapidly texting who I assume to be their friend.

Less than two minutes later, a figure starts walking toward us; stocky, with golden skin and bouncing curls that I am frustratedly attracted to.

‘Oh, Jesus christ…’ I groaned under my breath as Hamzah approached us, his face contorted in a puckered smile.

‘Hey, y/n, good to see you again,’ He says with a mocking smirk.

‘You two know each other?’ Martin asks, slapping a hand against Hamzah’s back in greeting.

‘Not really,’ I replied, at the exact time Hamzah said ‘Yes’. I shot him an annoyed glance, causing his smile to widen further.

‘We’re neighbours,’ I explain, as Hamzah turns to hug Mandy.

‘Neighbours,’ Hamzah parrots in an amused tone. He turns to face Martin, asking ‘What did you say about a couch?’

‘Well, if you look just here there's a sofa, and it's supposed to be in my living room, not the side of the road,’ I explain, my tone mildly sarcastic.

‘Really?’ Hamzah deadpans. ‘But it goes so well with the greenery…’

I roll my eyes, turning away from him as he and Martin plot how they’re going to transport my sofa up to the fourth floor.

‘Thank you guys so much, honestly I could not have done it without you,’ I lean against the back of the sofa, now positioned perfectly in my living room.

‘Oh, we know girl,’ Hamzah mutters, and I shoot him a death stare.

‘It was so nice to meet you, too,’ I say to Mandy and Martin, ignoring Hamzah. Mandy steps towards me and hugs me, shocking me for a moment but I swiftly return the embrace.

‘We’ll see you again, I’m sure,’ Mandy says, ‘but here’s my number. You seem cool.’ She grabs my phone from the table, holding it in front of my face to unlock it and entering her number into my contacts. I secretly admire her unwavering assuredness, complete confidence that can only come from a certain kind of person.

The three of them leave my flat soon after, leaving me to plan out the rest of my decorations. I was hit by a wave of inspiration; two organised pin-boards and four shifts of the sofa later it was suddenly late into the evening. Through the paper-thin walls, I had heard the faint chatter coming from Hamzah’s place. As a trio, they seemed so close, so familiar - a great dynamic between them.

It was the late evening when I heard the knock - a brief but resounding sound that stirred me from reading on the sofa.

Opening the door, I rolled my eyes.

‘Ah, always so glad to see me,’ Hamzah deadpans, his arms laden with leaves. I looked him up and down, my eyes narrowed in question. He had a potted plant tucked under each arm and another on the floor beside him.

‘Why are you at my door with several houseplants?’ I ask, meeting his gaze and registering his amused smile.

‘To help you decorate. This place feels like a hospital. Very clinical,’ He replies, looking critically past my head and into the admittedly undecorated flat.

‘Hey! That's so unfair. I’ve lived here for three days - reserve your judgement, please,’ I say, turning around and leading him inside. He follows me to the expansive living room, placing the larger plant beside the sofa.

‘Already such an improvement. Adds some life, and there's just enough sunlight here from the window,’ he says quietly, admiring his own work. I cross my arms across my chest and smirk at him.

‘Didn’t take you for the gardening type,’ I say when he turns to look at me. He scoffs, shaking his head dismissively.

‘It’s calming. I actually just needed to get rid of some plants, so I’m dumping them with you.’

‘Oh, definitely. There was no generosity behind this at all, purely selfish,’ I say sarcastically. Hamzah turns to me, a vaguely pained expression crossing his rugged face as his eyebrows cinched.

Moving around the apartment, he placed the plants - reciting care instructions to me. Water, light, humidity, nutrients - my head was swimming with all of the information he was feeding me. I was somewhat anxious for the responsibility - my pride would not allow me to let these plants die, I knew he would not let me live it down.

‘That’s pretty much it,’ Hamzah concludes, as if he hadn’t completely overwhelmed me with his vast knowledge of plant-care.

‘Great. And thank you, Hamzah, it was nice of you to give me these, I’m surprised.’ I said with a smile. He is quiet, his jaw flexing in response as a strained smile crossed his face.

He turned toward the door, pacing briskly to the exit. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, I felt compelled to ask him something.

‘Why are you so loud?’

‘What?’

‘You shout, a lot. Like when we first met - I was asking you to be quiet. Is it part of your job or something?’

‘Kinda, actually,’ he says with a laugh.

‘Okay, so you’re a voice actor. No, a horror game tester, or a sports commentator-’

‘I’m a YouTuber,’ He interrupts. There is a pause, and I giggle.

‘No, you’re not,’ I laugh.

‘Yes, I am,’ he affirms, crossing his arms across his chest.

‘You’re kidding, right?’

He scowls at me.

‘Oh, jeez, you’re not kidding. I mean - that’s not a bad thing, it's actually really cool, it's just unexpected. Like who is a successful youtuber, y’know?’

‘Mandy and Martin are, too,’ he adds humorlessly. I feel myself digging a deeper hole with every word I say, stammering as I try to explain myself.

‘I was surprised because that's a crazy freaking job - it’s every kid’s dream, no?’

He cocks an eyebrow, glaring at me wordlessly.

I feel my caution slip away. What do I care if I offend him?

‘Still not a great excuse to be unnecessarily loud,’ I mutter under my breath.

He grins amusedly, shaking his head gently as he slips out of the door.

Food. A fairly important thing in life - one which I was completely lacking. I had an urgent need for a supermarket trip - and a lazy Sunday morning was the perfect time to do so.

I step out of my flat, balancing my cup of coffee and my reusable bags as I fiddle with the lock.

I hear a faint, mocking laugh from behind me.

‘Just stop,’ Hamzah’s deep voice mutters, sidling beside me and taking the keys from my fumbling hands. For a brief moment, our hands touched - his skin was the darkest colour of honey, its blazing heat eliciting a shock through my body. His dark eyes snapped to mine momentarily, his emotion indiscernible as he locked my door. His hair was tousled and his curls unruly, giving me the expression that he had just woken up. I felt a compulsion to speak, attempting to quell the intensity of the moment.

‘Why are you up so early?’ I ask, eyeing him up and down. I registered the length of his shorts, my stomach involuntarily flipping as my gaze absorbed the expanse of his exposed brown skin from his mid-thigh down to his ankles. Even in his half-asleep state, he was frustratingly handsome - his indifference increasing his attractiveness.

When I met his eyes again, he was smirking, an incredulous expression on his face.

‘Did you just check me out?’ He said amusedly.

I flushed, stammering as I scoffed at the idea.

‘Just answer my question, stop deflecting.’ I say, diverting the topic.

‘We’re filming a podcast episode.’

A wicked smile contorts my face.

‘Now that has to be a joke,’

He frowns.

‘Why don’t you believe a word I say, y/n? Why would I lie about that?’

‘No way you have a podcast. What do you mean by ‘we’?’

‘Martin and I. We do it together, mainly. What’s so wrong with that?’

I laugh, looking up at his face. He wore a genuine expression, defensive and proud.

‘Nothing’s wrong with it, podcaster.’

He sighs, walking toward the staircase.

‘Why do you say it like it’s derogatory?’

The supermarket trip was successful - getting back home was the frustrating part. Toronto traffic was almost impenetrable at the best of times, and a local event increased the amount of drivers by tenfold. It took almost an hour to travel the five mile journey from the shop back to the flat - by the end of which I was thoroughly annoyed.

Finally pulling into the car park, I immediately spotted the one vacant space conveniently close to the building’s entrance. I smiled to myself triumphantly, driving toward it intently. Instantaneously, a black car pulled around the corner and swung right into the space.

I instinctively pressed my horn, blaring angrily at the conceited car that stole my spot. I pulled up closer toward it, scowling into the tinted window. It began to roll down, and in the driver's seat sat a beautiful yet infuriating man with a head of dark curls.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I mutter, rolling down my window.

I lean out of the car, locking eyes with him.

‘You stole my spot, asshole!’ I shout, fixing him with my angry glare.

‘I was here first!’ Hamzah shouts back over the mechanical noises of our running cars. ‘I’ve been parking here for months, girl. You’re the newbie,’ He shrugs.

I hold up a middle finger out of the window as I speed away from him - the noise of his victorious laughter reverberating in my head.

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#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #4freakshow #martin and hamzah #hamzah fic #hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #fanfic #hamzah x y/n #enemies to lovers #frenemies #out of character

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