#draper: chats

[rowdyluv]

say hi to apparently a new umich picture

[spockvarietyhour]

Star Trek/Mad Men Crossover where Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce is in the same building as Gary Seven's office.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: PenPal

Tim is a lonely boy. Sure, he follows Batman and Robin around at night, daring various risks by getting close enough to capture a good enough photo of his heros.

But that is basically all the fun he has. School is insanely easy to the point that he is unbearably bored. He has some friends, but most of them are only on speaking terms within the school grounds, and his parents answer their emails every third or four day.

Basically, Tim only interacts with people for few hours a day. It leaves him wanting more, needing more.

This is how he joins an online chat room he overheard some of the older students chatting about. He knows that it's not the best idea to speak to a total stranger- Tim did wander Gotham streets at night on his own- but he figured he was smart enough to not falll for any tricks.

Just to be sure, he changed his age from ten to fourteen, figuring the few extra years would give him a second level of anonymously. The chatroom was meant to match him with someone of the same interests or Hobbies.

Tim filled out the survey with some truths and some lies, even using a different name. He creates some starting threads, a one sentence hook, about the themes he selected and goes live.

If someone reads his threads that they find interesting, they will click a message request. Tim would have until he logged out to answer. Otherwise, the conversation went stale and deleted.

If he meets someone he wants to talk to more than one log-in, he would need to friend them. It's an easy enough concept.

Before long, Alvin Draper is ready to mingle with strangers online. He gets a few matches for his fake hobbies scrolling through the profiles' form with little interest. He refreashes the page a few times until one thread catches his eye.

Batman is a ghost by a Danny Fenton.

He clicks the chat option, and a second window opens with the basic messaging screen. Tim types in "How is Batman a ghost?"

He gets an instant reply.

"He disappears in plain sight. It is out for vengeance and is scary. How is he not a ghost?"

Tim cracks his knucles. He already knows Batman is Mr. Wayne from next door, but it would be fun to talk to someone with odd thoeroes. Besides, stiring the pot for this particular idea would ensure that no one would catch on to his neighbors

He talks Danny for hours. By the time Danny informs him he has to go to sleep for school, Tim realizes it's far too late to go out and take the photos of Batman. He resolves to wait until tomorrow.

Danny asks a question about his classes, and Tim tries to sound like a cool older teen. He hopes all middle schools have art classes, so it's not weird that he mentions coloring for his homework.

The next day, they chat again, this time about stars and cute girls- Tim thinks it's icky to want to kiss girls, but older kids don't seem grossed out by cooties. Then, the following day, Tim talks about his photography, praying that his technical terms make him sound like he's close to getting his driver's license.

And on it goes, days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. There are some slight pauses in their conversations as Danny is crazy busy but it's the most anyone bother to hold a conversation with Tim so he is patient and understanding.

His friendship with Danny is the longest one he's ever had and he feels brave enough to tell him secerts- not who Batman is or Tim's real age- but things like how sometimes he just hates his parents, sometimes he can't stand how loud his brain is and how he mentioned wanting to kiss boys just to spicy things up.

He figured older kids liked kissing girls and wanted to kiss boys, which was also a logical answer. They didn't have cooties. It was the smart thing to do because he was right, seeing as Danny informed him that his online friend also likes kissing girls and boys.

Tim adores Alvin Draper.

He's not the lonely kid with too much time and money. Alvin is the cool older boy who kisses someone new every week. He has hundreds of school friends and parents who spend so much time with him that it's sometimes overbearing.

Alvin can skateboard, break dance, and knows how to cook. He French kisses all the time - Tim isn't sure how people kiss in different languages; maybe the onomatopoeia is different - and once even pet a crocodile. (That one time Killer Croc held his class ransom)

Danny is highly impressed.

Tim picks up skateboarding figuring he can't write about it without trying it himself and finds he highly enjoys it.

He finds that Danny has a much simpler life than him. He has only two real friends and has no special skills to think of. His hobbies are video games and star gazing, and he never even got to first base with anyone.

Tim offers to teach him since he's played baseball thousands of times at school. Not to brag but Tim has even hit three homeruns the last time they played in gym.

Danny's response is surprisingly flustered, but he agrees that someday he might just take "Alvin" up on his offer. Tim buys a brand new glove and bat the very next day.

After almost a full year of messaging, Danny sends him a picture of himself one day. Tim is stunned by how pretty his penpal is, with sparkling blue eyes and swooping black hair. He's got a symmetrical face that Tim knows lots of the Gotham elites pay thousands to have some docotor recreate.

His smile is shy but perfect.

Then Danny asks, "Can you show me your face?" and Tim panics. Alvin is supposed to be fourteen, turning fifteen in a week; he's handsome, athletic, and beloved. He's nothing like Tim, who still has baby fat clinging to his cheeks, hasn't spoken to anyone outside of school in almost two weeks, and making up lies to impress his online friends.

But Tim has to send Danny something. If he doesn't, then Danny will be hurt or worse- he'll realize Tim has been lying this whole time and block him.

Tim stares at his photo files on his computer, heart beating a mile a minute before he makes his decision. He drags a photo, drops it into the chat, and presses send, telling himself no one will know.

Danny isn't from Gotham; he won't have a reason to know who the picture is.

You're gorgeous, Danny writes to him, making Tim feel all warm inside. His friend is right. Jason Todd is a very handsome boy. He's also Alivin Draper's new face.

Nothing can go wrong.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Hey, just wondering if you could give us some insight into how the sleepy kitten cafe staff met Alan/got close to him/what they think of him. Also curious to see what all the bats think about cardinal. Did they ever meet in costume?

P.S: Keep up the good work!!

Of course!! I touched a little bit in "Jerry the Raccoon" but that was mostly Tim & Zeek (and it was not my best chapter- but I refuse to edit it for my own sanity)

Also so far? No. Cardinal manages to maintain a distance 24/7 with bats (almost as if hes tracking them during patrol- wild right??) But overall

Bruce is tearing his hair out, but admits they are useful and more effort than they're worth.

Babs adores them, and is on a mission to find them out and take them under her wing

Dick finds Bruce plight funny- but is kinda unnerved how similar Cardinal is to a talon in some ways. (also just creepy in general)

Jason "Game recognizes game" but wishes Cardinal would stop running so he could ask him more questions

Cass never gets close. But not bothered by them.

Steph thinks Cardinal is badass but keeps her distance, doesnt trust the vibes

Damien acts like he doesn't care about Cardinal (He so does, hes obsessed- lowkey fanboy behavior)

Alfred thinks its nice Bruce has someone else willing to deal with Gotham, who ISN'T under his nagging control. Theres some respect there.

NOW Sleepy Kitten fam backstory (as of rn, subject to change as lore provides)

Well Alan Draper (Originally Alvin) was a normal civillian persona Tim had- but in order to MAKE a persona, people need to know you. Otherwise it takes a quick asking around to realize you aren't who you say you are.

So when Tim was Fifteen or so Alan "moved to Gotham" from Chicago and started taking classes at Gotham University. He started showing up at the cafe out of pure convinence before Obi and Gwen worked there (officially)

Obi's dad had a run in with a rouge, got injured, and couldn't work both shifts. So they turned to part time student and began running the store. They'd gotten used to Alan hanging around and they talked on ocassion but mostly enjoyed silence when the other was working. Slowly but surely Tim grew to love being Alan- one of the few times he could be stress free anymore and yet not be so alone. And Obi dealing with the stress of taking over family buisness had one customer whose ever presence was comforting.

A few months pass and they consider each other pretty close friends to the point Alan had a spare key to the cafe in case of emergencies. Soon after some of the other staff quit and Obi opened applications- Gwen showed up, nervous as hell having never worked a day in her life and already applying to like ten other positions.

But Obi was desperate and soon enough Gwen was at the cafe just about every hour of the day and night. It got to the point where she would hang out even after her shift.

Then by pure forced proximity, Alan grew to love her company just as much as Obi- though in a way that forced him out of his shell just a bit.

It was clockwork of Alan, Gwen, and Obi all at the Sleepy Kitten on random day hours chatting away while working.

Events of the chapter transpire, with Alan showing up with this guy who 100% belongs in a gang, but Obi takes "minding their own buisness" HARD and trusts both Alan and Gwens opinions (Gwen who just saw sad guy and forced to help)

Now Obi has basically permenantly taken over the cafe, but still takes some art school classes on the side with some of the profits that don't go back into the cafe.

Gwen and Zeek have an apartment together in the far narrows since Gwen was desperate to move out, and Zeek was company and free security, who also needed a place. Apartment is just a block or so from the cafe too

Alan lives outside downtown but commutes often, works odd hours but whenever he is free, will set up in the cafe and enjoy the peace for a bit with his friends.

Long story short- they were coworker friends, except Alan refused to take a job literally ever.

[lifeofpriya]

Lessons and Kisses - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

a/n: this was inspired by @pyotrkochetkov and i's chat about what jack would be like when he's teaching his partner tennis 🥺😩

summary: while trying to teach you tennis, Jack's attention is constantly drawn away and struggles to keep his eyes on the ball and his heart on the game...

"Jack, I swear, I can't hit this ball to save my life," you say, laughing as the yellow sphere sails past you once again.

Jack chuckles and strides over to you, his footsteps echoing gently on the pristine clay court. "You're overthinking it, that's all. Just like when you worry about work or what to wear on our dates." He takes the racket from your hand and demonstrates a smooth, practiced swing. The air whispers as the ball zooms towards the opposite end of the court. "It's all about muscle memory and not psyching yourself out."

You watch him, the way his muscles ripple under the sun-kissed skin, the determination etched into his features. "Easy for you to say," you reply, your voice laden with playful sarcasm. "You've been playing since you were a toddler."

Jack smirks, his eyes never leaving yours. "And you've been captivating people since you were born." He gently places the racket back in your hand. "Now, let's try this again. Remember, watch the ball, keep your eyes on it, and swing when it's right in front of you."

You nod, trying to focus on the lesson, but the warmth of his touch lingers. The scent of freshly cut grass and his subtle cologne fills your senses, making it difficult to think about anything else. The sun casts a soft glow on his medium brown hair as he takes his position opposite you. The light breeze whispers through the leaves of the trees surrounding the court, carrying the distant sound of a dog barking.

Jack serves the ball. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to concentrate. The racket feels heavier than before, as if it's a part of you now. You watch the ball intently, tracking its path through the air. Just as Jack instructed, you swing when it's perfectly aligned with your body. For a moment, time seems to slow down, the only sound the rhythmic thwack of the ball connecting with the strings.

The ball sails over the net and lands with a soft thud on the other side, bouncing just within the lines. "Yes!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of excitement. You've hit it correctly.

You see the delight spread across Jack's face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's it," he says, clapping. "You're a natural."

Emboldened, you serve the next ball. It's not perfect, but it's better than your first few attempts. Jack returns it with ease, his movements fluid and precise. The back-and-forth dance of the tennis ball becomes a mesmerizing rhythm, one that you're slowly starting to follow. Each swing feels more natural, and with each hit, your confidence grows.

"Good," he says, his voice filled with genuine encouragement. "Now, let's work on your backhand."

Jack approaches the net, his eyes never leaving yours. He tosses you a new ball, which you catch with surprising ease. The fuzzy sphere feels warm from the sun and slightly damp from the sweat on your palms. You take your stance, feeling the cool shade of the court's edge brush against your skin. He demonstrates the backhand technique, his racket carving a graceful arc through the air.

"Your turn," he says, stepping back and giving you space.

You toss the ball up, the sun glinting off it as it reaches its peak. Your heart races as you try to replicate the motion he's shown you. The ball comes down, and you swing, feeling the sweet spot of the racket connect. The ball sails over the net, and Jack nods approvingly. It's not perfect, but the thrill of improvement sends a jolt through your veins.

"Better," he says, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Now, let's add a bit of power to it."

Jack stands closer, his presence a comforting warmth as he adjusts your grip. His fingers are firm yet gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. "Keep your wrist firm and pivot your body when you hit it," he coaches, his voice low and reassuring.

You try again, focusing on his instructions. This time, when the ball meets your racket, there's a satisfying crack, and the ball zooms across the court. It's not as precise as Jack's shots, but the power behind it surprises both of you. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad," he says, his eyes gleaming. "But let's work on your footwork."

Jack hits a series of balls toward you, forcing you to move side to side, your sneakers squeaking on the court. His eyes are sharp, watching your every move, analyzing your technique. Each time you hit the ball, his feedback is immediate and precise, pushing you to be better. Despite the heat of the day, you feel invigorated, the challenge of the lesson invigorating your spirit.

As you practice, you become increasingly aware of Jack's gaze. It's not just focused on your form; it's as if he's trying to read your every thought. You stumble slightly on a shot, and he's there, his hand steadying you.

"Woah there, partner," Jack says with a laugh, catching you before you topple over. His hand lingers on your arm, his thumb brushing against your skin. You blush, the heat from the sun and his touch mixing into an intoxicating warmth. "You're getting better, but don't let your enthusiasm trip you up."

He steps back, giving you a playful nudge with his racket. "Now, let's focus on your footwork." He hits a slow, lobbing shot over the net, which you manage to return, albeit awkwardly. "Good," he says, nodding. "But remember, speed and agility are key in tennis. It's like a dance, you know?"

Jack starts to hit the ball closer to the net, making you run forward to meet it. You feel clumsy at first, your feet stumbling over themselves, but gradually you find your rhythm. The soft thump of the ball on the clay and the squeak of your shoes become a symphony of effort and improvement. Each step feels lighter, more coordinated. The scent of the court fills your nostrils, mixing with the faint smell of Jack's deodorant. It's a smell you've come to associate with excitement and challenge.

"Jack! Focus, will you?" You laugh, swiping a strand of hair out of your face as you watch him stare at you with a glazed look.

Jack snaps out of his daze. "What? Oh, right, the lesson." He chuckles, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Sorry, you're just…distracting."

You roll your eyes, but your heart skips a beat at the compliment. "Keep it professional, Draper," you tease, but the smolder in his gaze tells you he's not entirely joking.

Jack clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Alright, let's practice volleys," he says, his voice slightly huskier than before. He moves closer to the net, his eyes locked on yours, challenging you to match his intensity.

You approach the net, feeling the tension in the air thicken. Each step is deliberate, your heart racing as much from the exercise as from the electricity between you. The sun is now high in the sky, casting a warm embrace over the court, the shadows of the surrounding trees stretching lazily. You watch as Jack hits a ball towards you, its trajectory perfect for a volley. You lunge forward, your racket poised, and hit the ball back with a solid thwack.

Jack's eyes widen slightly as the ball sails back over the net. "Impressive," he murmurs, a hint of surprise in his voice.

The subsequent few volleys are a blur of motion and adrenaline. Your reflexes sharpen as you anticipate his moves, and the air crackles with energy. You can feel your muscles warming up, your breath coming in quick gasps as you push yourself to keep up with Jack's skill. Despite the seriousness of the lesson, there's a playfulness to it, a flirty challenge in every exchange.

Jack's shots become faster, more unpredictable, and you find yourself leaning into the game, your body moving almost on its own. You're not just trying to hit the ball; you're trying to impress him. And with each successful volley, his eyes light up brighter, his smile broader.

The sound of your rackets colliding with the ball echoes through the quiet afternoon air, punctuated by the occasional bird call or rustle of leaves. You're both sweating now, your skin glistening in the sun, your clothes sticking to your bodies. But you're in the zone, lost in the rhythm of the game, the thrill of competition, and the undeniable pull between you.

Jack's eyes never leave yours, his concentration unwavering as he feeds you ball after ball. The air feels charged with something more than just the physical exertion of the game. Each hit feels like a silent conversation, a dance of attraction and challenge. Your heart beats in time with the thump of the tennis balls, and you can't help but notice the way his shirt clings to his chest as he moves.

"What do you say we make this a little more interesting?" Jack suggests, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing a line of sweat across his skin. "If I win this next point, I get a kiss," he says, raising the stakes.

You laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "And if I win?"

Jack grins, his dimples deepening. "Whatever you want."

The tension shifts, the air charged with a new kind of excitement. You line up for the next volley, your heart racing. He serves the ball, and you watch it closely, timing your jump just right. As you make contact, you feel the perfect combination of power and precision, sending the ball back to Jack's side of the court. He's caught off guard, and it hits the net.

"My serve," you say with a smug smile, stepping back to catch your breath.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours, the playful glint not fading. "Alright, but remember, no holding back."

You serve the ball, feeling the heat of his gaze as it flies over the net. He returns it swiftly, and you're back in the rhythm, your bodies moving in sync despite the competitive banter. The ball slices through the air, a blur of yellow against the blue sky. You both dive for it, your rackets colliding in a flurry of motion.

As you both straighten up, the air between you thick with anticipation, the ball hits the net and drops to the ground. "Match point," you say, panting slightly.

Jack's grin widens, and he nods, raising his racket in a salute. "Alright, one more. Let's make it count."

You serve again, the ball spinning through the air, a blur of yellow against the vibrant green of the surrounding trees. Jack leaps into action, his racket slicing through the air with a sharp crack. The ball zooms back at you, and you return it with a volley, your body moving almost on instinct. The ball goes back and forth, both of you pushing your limits, the air around you electric with anticipation.

As you watch the ball come towards you for what feels like the final time, you know you have to give it everything you've got. You lean in, your muscles tensing, and hit it with all the power and finesse you can muster. It sails over the net and lands just inside the line. "Match," you declare, breathless and triumphant.

Jack laughs, shaking his head. "I didn't see that one coming." His smile is genuine, the kind that makes your stomach do somersaults. He steps closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body. "Looks like I owe you one," he says, his eyes dropping to your lips.

You lean in slightly, the anticipation building like the crescendo of a symphony.

"What'll it be?" He asks, his voice low and teasing. You feel the heat of his breath against your cheek, and for a moment, you're lost in his eyes, a swirl of hazel that seems to hold a universe of secrets and promises.

"A kiss," you reply, your voice a whisper, the challenge in your eyes matching his.

Jack's smile turns into a full-blown grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He takes a step closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body as he leans in. His breath mingles with yours. The world seems to hold its breath around you, the only sound the distant chirp of a bird and the thud of your racing hearts.

As your lips meet, the intensity of the moment hits you like a perfect ace. It's a kiss filled with the passion of the game, the sweet taste of victory, and the undeniable attraction that's been building since the lesson began.

Jack's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and you melt into the embrace. The rackets clatter to the ground, forgotten as you lose yourself in the kiss. His lips are soft, yet firm, a mirror of the determination he shows on the court. You feel the roughness of his stubble against your skin, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, and the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

You both pull back slightly, breathless, eyes locked. The moment lingers, charged with a newfound intimacy. "Worth the wait?" You smirk, feeling your cheeks flush.

Jack nods, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "More than worth it." He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek. His gaze drops to your mouth again, and you can't help but lean in for another kiss. This one is slower, more deliberate, as if he's savoring every second.

When you finally break away, you're both panting slightly. The sun is lower now, casting a warm, golden light across the court, turning it into a stage for your shared victory. "I think I've had enough lessons for today," you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours, searching for something unspoken. He takes your hand, the calluses from his years of playing tennis a stark contrast to your soft skin. "Me too," he agrees, his voice hoarse.

You walk off the court together, your hand in his, the tension of the game now replaced by the gentle squeeze of his fingers. The sun is lower in the sky, painting the world in a warm, golden hue. The air is cooler, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers from the nearby garden. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the quiet understanding that comes from sharing an intense experience.

You sit on the bench beside the courts, the wood still warm from the day's heat. You take a swig from your water bottle, watching as Jack does the same, his throat working as he swallows. He sets the bottle down and looks at you, his eyes searching.

"What is it?" you ask, your voice still breathless from the exertion and the kiss.

Jack clears his throat, his hand still wrapped around yours. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he says, his voice filled with wonder.

You blush, looking down at your tennis shoes, the laces loosened. "I'm a mess," you protest, but the smile playing on your lips betrays you.

Jack shakes his head, his eyes still holding yours. "You're perfect," he says, his voice earnest.

The words hang in the air, and you can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest. You look up at him, your heart racing. "Jack," you whisper, not sure what to say.

He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss you again. This time it's gentle, a promise of more to come. You melt into it, feeling the world spin around you. When you pull away, you're both grinning like fools, the thrill of the game and the excitement of the kiss intermingling in your veins.

[grimvestige]

Draper pulled Keane into the astral plane to chat / catch up a bit in the recent book club session because she's been missing her family a lot and he decided to scoop her up into a hug <3

[likesmens]

I love men too…. 🤤❤️❤️

and I’m sick of racist Tumblrinas harassing you for existing. Idiots also seem to not understand that Jews and “Palestinians” (quotes because that’s not their name. The Roman empire came up with the name. The Romans were the colonizers, not the NATIVE jews) are both native to the Levant. There’s twelve tribes. It’s not that hard.

YES we both belong there at this point, but the claim that Jews aren't indigenous to the land is insane, and disproven by historical evidence!!! And being harassed sucks lol, thanks for the support. I'm glad I have my asks open so I can get cool messages like this and the last ask I answered, courtesy of the lovely @azuleopal

Also, if you're interested I should be posting some Don Draper smut in the next ~3 weeks...even if you're not into him specifically I think you might still like it (especially if men saying good girl makes you feral ssjsjsjsjshshsjsjsjshs). And anon, if you've never watched Mad Men, I urge you to do so as soon as humanly possible for the sexiness that is Don; it's irrevocably rewired my brain so that now at least three times a day I think about him using me...*ahem*...anyway...between our love for Israel and men we seem to have a lot in common (lolol), so if you ever wanna message me privately we can chat more! You seem super awesome anon 💖

[justforbooks]

The writer-activist Wendy Mitchell, who has died aged 68, won hearts and minds by advocating for living positively with dementia. She was determined to remind people that those living with the disease are not “sufferers” and that there is “a beginning, a middle and an end to the disease – with so much life to be lived in between”. She held strong beliefs that people should have the right to choose their own death, and campaigned for assisted dying laws in Britain – one of the subjects of her final book.

Wendy wrote three bestsellers, Somebody I Used to Know (2018), What I Wish People Knew About Dementia (2022) and One Last Thing: How to Live with the End in Mind (2023) – I was fortunate enough to be her ghostwriter on all of them. They were translated into dozens of languages, and her advocacy work won her honorary doctorates from Bradford and Hull Universities, and a British Empire Medal last year.

When I met Wendy in 2016, she was writing a daily blog, Which Me Am I Today? ,which she had started simply to document her day-to-day life, though it soon had tens of thousands of followers. After her diagnosis of young-onset vascular dementia and Alzheimer’s disease in July 2014, Wendy was shocked at the lack of information and support available to those newly diagnosed.

In Somebody I Used to Know, she wrote about her own depression at the diagnosis, until she realised: “I was still the same person I had been the day before my diagnosis.” She threw herself into academic and medical research, speaking to doctors, nurses and other professionals. What I Wish People Knew About Dementia chronicled how the disease affects different parts of daily life, aside from memory, including taste, smell, hearing, gait and vision.

Her tips, such as draping a scarf over a flat-screen television to avoid it looking like a hole in the wall, or sticking photographs of clothes on wardrobe doors as a reminder of what is inside, made all the difference to those who were newly diagnosed.

Wendy enjoyed finding ways to outwit dementia. As she wrote in her final blog post: “Yes, dementia is a bummer, but oh what a life I’ve had playing games with this adversary of mine to try and stay one step ahead.”

Born in Wakefield, West Yorkshire, to Violet and Ken Draper, Wendy described growing up in their pub in her first memoir. She went to school in Pontefract and was a keen sportswoman, excelling at tennis and running – after her diagnosis, she swapped running for fell-walking in the Lake District. She described the Lakes as her “paradise” and Friars Crag as her favourite place to sit.

Wendy raised her two daughters, Sarah and Gemma, alone after her divorce from their father in the early 1980s (although she continued to use her married name). For many years she earned her living as a cleaner, until she started working in administrative roles within the NHS, gaining promotion to become a non-clinical team leader. Eventually she was forced to retire from her job as a rota manager at Leeds general infirmary, and later campaigned for workplaces to support those newly diagnosed with dementia to continue working: “We don’t lose all our skills overnight just because of our diagnosis,” she said.

In early retirement Wendy discovered other skills, including writing, and enjoyed her “trundles” around the village of Walkington, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, where she lived, capturing local wildlife with her trusted Nikon camera. She revelled in the fact that villagers unaware at first of her diagnosis described her as “the lady with the camera”.

She met many dementia advocates, and was inspired to take up campaigning when she heard Agnes Houston talk at a women and dementia event in York. Wendy became a guiding light to others, a regular contributor at Innovations in Dementia and York Minds and Voices, part of the DEEP UK Network of Dementia Voices.

She gathered her own formidable team of friends living with dementia, who produced video content chatting about the issues they encountered and nicknamed themselves “the Four Amigos”. She advised on the BBC TV series Casualty and the movie Still Alice (2014), and received a mention from the Hollywood actor Julianne Moore in her Bafta acceptance speech.

Wendy raised tens of thousands of pounds for Dementia UK with her annual “wacky challenges”, as she called them, daredevil stunts that included walking across hot coals, skydiving, wingwalking and, last autumn, a swim in Derwentwater after she was forced to abandon her abseil down the Leadenhall building in London (the “Cheesegrater”) due to technical issues (theirs, not hers). She insisted that she was fearless after her diagnosis, having already faced the worst.

Wendy was a force of nature, but dementia made her life harder and harder. She ended her life by voluntarily stopping eating and drinking (VSED), a subject she discussed in One Last Thing. In her last blog post, written in advance, in which she announced her death, she said: “Adapting to this life with dementia is over, but I don’t consider dementia has won, as that would be negative … it’s me calling time on my dementia – checkmate – before it plays its final move.”

She also pleaded for people to campaign for assisted dying laws in her memory.

Reviewing Somebody I Used To Know for the Sunday Times in 2018, Jackie Annesley wrote: “The world could do with more Wendys.” I couldn’t agree more, but there was only one wonderful Wendy, taking people by the hand and showing them how to live a good life with the disease in tow, or indeed how to talk about the end of life so they can instead focus on living.

Wendy is survived by her daughters.

🔔 Wendy Patricia Mitchell, writer and campaigner, born 31 January 1956; died 22 February 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[mariacallous]

Kristina Collins didn’t know her photo was being used on Telegram. Over the past few months, an Instagram picture of Collins, a Texas-based doctor and dermatologist, has been used by scammers on the chat app to try to persuade people to buy false proof that they have been vaccinated against Covid-19 and other diseases.

“The last thing you want as a physician is for your identity to be used to promote misinformation,” Collins tells WIRED, adding that many doctors use social media specifically to make sure people have access to accurate health information. “When people are able to take that likeness and use it for bad purposes, whether it’s fraud, whether it’s misinformation, I think it’s really scary.”

The Telegram channel impersonating Collins wasn’t alone. Researchers at Logically, a UK-based disinformation detection company, have uncovered a network of around 60 Telegram channels selling Covid-19 vaccination certificates and other proof of vaccination documents, and claiming to sell various medicines. In 25 of the channels, administrators used a “Dr.” prefix in their username, with 13 of the channels using the real-world names and/or photographs of legitimate medical professionals.

The network has been operating since at least June 2022, with more than a thousand accounts on X posting links that push people toward the Telegram channels selling “vaccine passes,” according to Chris Proops and Maisie Draper, Logically researchers who investigated the activity. Overall, they say, the social media operation has reached more than 3 million people with over 62,000 posts, and cryptocurrency accounts linked to the efforts have processed $286,000.

The scam is the latest in a long line of Covid-19 and health-related misinformation and disinformation, which has broadly attempted to capitalize on conspiracy theories and some people’s concerns about vaccinations. It highlights how scammers can abuse social media platforms, particularly those with loose stances on moderation, and potentially erode trust in medical systems.

“They're directing people, anti-vaxxers primarily, on X to then move to Telegram and subscribe to the around 50 Telegram channels that they have,” Draper says. The researchers identified around 20 “campaigns” on the Elon Musk–owned social media platform that were pushing people toward Telegram channels. The first was in June 2022 and the most recent at the start of December.

Draper and Proops say the efforts used repeated messaging, often replying to “verified” accounts on X that are linked to anti-vaccination sentiments, and consistently mentioned conspiracy theories such as the “great reset.”

“A lot of it is playing on anti-vaxxers’ vulnerabilities to being paranoid about things like the next pandemic, or other kinds of vaccines, like the measles vaccine,” Draper says.

The Telegram channels, where administrators impersonate doctors, also follow similar patterns to one another. Many of the channels have names related to Covid-19 vaccinations, and they claim to sell pandemic-related travel passes, allowing people to enter the UK, US, Canada, and other countries. They can sell the passes for around $250 to $500 each, with payments often being requested in bitcoin. Photos of the documents they claim to sell look similar to the official versions of the documents.

However, the vast majority of countries no longer require proof of vaccination to enter them and haven’t done so for long periods of time—for instance, the UK removed travel restrictions in 2022. “Over time, we started seeing a trend change where it wasn't just Covid passes,” Proops says. The Telegram channels have offered tuberculosis test results, meningitis vaccine results, and documentation around hepatitis A and B, tetanus, polio, and more, he says.

The researchers say they believe doctors are being impersonated to give the scammers a veneer of legitimacy. The Logically researchers contacted several doctors who were not aware their identities were being used. One doctor, they say, had not heard of Telegram. Collins says she was not aware of her image being used in this way until she was contacted by Logically and WIRED. She added that her image had also been used on a scam Instagram account.

Since the researchers started monitoring the X accounts and Telegram channels last year, many of the accounts and channels have been removed by the social media companies; however, around half of the Telegram channels are still active. Neither Telegram nor X responded to WIRED’s request for comment on the accounts or whether Telegram was aware of the impersonation of doctors taking place.

A WIRED review of the Telegram channels still active shows regular posts from administrators and other members. Some of the channels have only a few hundred members; others have a few thousand. The administrators of some channels have been inactive for several months. Within the channels is a slurry of well-worn and debunked conspiracy theories.

One still-active channel claims itself as a “coalition of doctors” who can get people “genuinely registered documentation” for those traveling to the US, Canada, UK, Australia, and 15 EU countries. The owner of the channel uses the name of a legitimate US-based plastic surgeon who has around 50,000 followers on social media, and a photograph of another doctor. Draper says that within the communities, people “are sharing photographs of side effects of the vaccine and fearmongering about the future impacts of lockdowns.”

The channels also claim to sell the drug ivermectin, which the US Food and Drug Administration said should not be used to treat or prevent Covid-19 in 2021. One of the channels lists half a dozen different kinds of medicines it claims to be able to provide. One claims it is selling weight loss drug Ozempic, while another tells people to not get a flu shot.

“The landscape of misinformation actors is abundant,” says Aliaksandr Herasimenka, a researcher of political communication at the Oxford Internet Institute who has studied misinformation on Telegram and vaccine and health misinformation. Herasimenka, who was not involved in the Logically research, says he has not seen doctors being impersonated on Telegram regularly, but that those behind misinformation and disinformation can use a variety of tactics. He says misinformation efforts can often be run for political or social goals, while those using it to make money can be often overlooked. “There are so many people who try to make money using misinformation, they would use any opportunity to profit,” Herasimenka says.

There is no evidence indicating that the Telegram channels offer legitimate goods, and it isn’t possible to verify whether anyone purchasing items from them receives anything. Some channels have posts from “customers” who claim to have purchased items from the Telegram groups. One account, which claims it ordered a vaccine certificate and drugs to the US, shared a photo of the back of an envelope claiming they received their order. Other posts use generic photos of drugs or vaccine certificates to claim items were delivered.

The Logically researchers say the likelihood that the false documents have been sent to people is “relatively low,” and their main motivation is likely financial. Proops says that while the documents the groups claim to be selling are not of much use now, the networks could be used in different ways in the future. The continued use of the channels and spreading of anti-vaccination messages could also undermine trust in health systems around the world, Proops says.

Collins, the doctor who had her image stolen, says she is concerned that it will become easier for scammers or people looking to undermine health care professionals to do so as image generation with artificial intelligence becomes more available. “As AI gets even better, they can go beyond just taking your picture off of a website, and actually potentially make a video of you talking,” Collins says. This will make it “really hard for an average person to sort out if this is a fake account or not.”

[like-the-cut-of-your-jib]

Great day for Canada on the water. Saying goodbye to to crypto-owner has never looked better!

Now it is up to us fans to fund and find new ownership!

Chicago (USA) - 17 June 2023 - The Rolex United States Sail Grand Prix Chicago got underway yesterday in Chicago, with fans lined along Navy Pier to watch ten teams battle it out in the first event of SailGP Season 4.

Despite a bit of turbulence shoreside for the team since the end of Season 3 last month, Phil Robertson and the Canadian team did what they do best, perform on the water.

Precise starts and seamless teamwork translated into third, first and fifth place finishes meaning that at the end of day one, the team was just two points out of first, just behind New Zealand and Australia.

Going into today, completely different conditions meant that the teams were sailing with the 29 metre wings and just four crew onboard. The extremely light air conditions were fickle, but the Canadians persevered to finish at the top of the leaderboard after five races and progress into the finals against New Zealand and Australia.

“It’s all on when you get to the last race. We had a good sniff at it, but we just didn't quite get there. It was slow, but racing,” said Phil. “Everyone is in the same position, the boats and breeze are identical, so it is still a race. But there is not much you can change in that sort of format, it was a short course and light.”

“We finished third, but for the team as a whole, it’s a great start to the season. We’re over the moon to be on the podium. If we keep this momentum going, we will be in great shape by the end of the season,” said wing trimmer Chris Draper. “Phil is the best starter in the league!” added strategist Isabella Bertold.

“It’s a solid result, with all the chat that was going on and an unsettled lead up to this race, we had our backs against the wall and we delivered,” said Phil.

Also competing in Chicago this weekend were seven young Canadians from the weCANfoil programme. Jackson Macaulay of Halifax finished second overall and Tate Howell (Toronto) was the top Canadian female in the Inspire Regatta.

The team’s sights are now set on the Oracle Los Angeles Sail Grand Prix on 22-23 July.

SAILGP SEASON 4 CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (after one event) //

1 // New Zealand // 10 points

2 // Australia // 9 points

3 // Canada // 8 points

4 // ROCKWOOL Denmark // 7 points

5 // Spain // 6 points

6 // France // 5 points

7 // Emirates GBR // 4 points

8 // Switzerland // 3 points

9 // United States // 2 points

10 // Germany // 1 point

CANADA SAILGP TEAM CREW LIST // ROLEX UNITED STATES SAILGP CHICAGO

Phil Robertson / Driver

Chris Draper / Wing Trimmer

Billy Gooderham / Flight Controller

Tim Hornsby / Grinder

Tom Ramshaw / Grinder

Jake Lilley / Grinder

Isabella Bertold / Strategist

Jareese Finch / Reserve Sailor

[thepermanentrainpress]

The Permanent Rain Press Interview with Blake Draper. (Watch in HD)

Blake Draper chats about his role as Graham Lansing in Prom Pact (including his memorable promposal scene, character expectations & working with the creative team), close friendship with co-stars Peyton Elizabeth Lee and Milo Manheim, early love for the arts, and his first time at Disneyland.

[mischiefandspirits]

Olivia Draper had been a good idea at first. She could pass for older than Tim could pull off while masculine and women really could get into places easier if they had a pretty face. With makeup and some stylish-yet-inexpensive clothes, Olivia could pull off most undercover ops. She was Tim’s Matches Malone.

Then Hood had shown up on the scene.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jason met Olivia, he hadn’t intended to pull a Bruce and take the scrappy teen informant under his wing. She just kept showing up where he was doing business. He had no other choice than to keep an eye on her. And kit her out with armor so she wouldn’t accidentally get shot. And make sure she was being treated fairly by her mysterious boss.

And, okay, maybe become her big brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AKA I write an enemies-to-caretakers story where neither party knows the other’s identity until they’re already invested.

Chapter 13: Laughs

Little Red, Black Mask, and Joker have a chat.

[erralini]

kasatkinas -> erralini

★ ABOUT ME!! ★

★ hi!!! i’m ciara! | she/they | eighteen | absolute bi mess | tennisblr’s official jasmine paolini archivist | header by me ★

★ this is a sideblog!!!!! my main blog which i follow / like / ask from is @loenahendrickx , but i am most active on @jack-doohan !! ★

★ primarily a tennis blog with some of my other interests sprinkled in ★

★ FAVORITE PLAYERS ★

WTA ★

daria kasatkina | elena rybakina | karolina muchova | mirra andreeva | barbora krejcikova | jasmine paolini | sara errani | marie bouzkova | olga danilovic | bianca andreescu | leylah fernandez | zheng qinwen | coco gauff | aryna sabalenka | iga swiatek | ons jabeur | naomi osaka | katerina siniakova | taylor townsend | sara sorribes tormo | jessica pegula ++ more

doubles: errani/paolini (erralini) | bouzkova/sorribes tormo (sorrikova)

retirees: barty | s. williams | sharapova ++ more

ATP ★

holger rune | ben shelton | jannik sinner | denis shapovalov | felix auger-aliassime | taylor fritz | casper ruud | grigor dimitrov | flavio cobolli | hubert hurkacz | jack draper | carlos alcaraz | frances tiafoe | daniil medvedev | alex de minaur | arthur fils | matteo berrenetti | ++ more

retirees: federer | nadal | thiem | yeah you get it

i like more atp players ofc it’s just i follow the wta way more okay 😭

★ ftr i’m usually good with most of the players on both circuits but im pretty anti zverev in atp and im not a massive fan of navarro or badosa in wta (but if i ever anti blog about them i will tag it as anti *player name here*) !! ★

★ TAGS I USE ★

gifs | graphics | pics | txt | asks | edits

the jasmine paolini archives

★ feel free to chat/become mutuals with me!!! i don’t bite and love making new friends!! ★

★ i AM taking graphic requests! send in a player + a color and i will get to your request asap! ★

★ CARRD: https://erralini.carrd.co/# ★

★ that’s all! have a great day!! 🩷 ★

[john-carle123]

AI-Powered Ad Campaigns: Revolutionizing Marketing for Your Business

Hey there, fellow business owners and entrepreneurs! Whether you're running a cozy shop in London, a tech startup in New York, or an e-commerce powerhouse in Dubai, I've got some exciting news for you. There's a game-changer in the world of marketing, and it's called AI-powered advertising. Trust me, it's not just another buzzword – it's a real opportunity to take your business to the next level.

Let's Get Real About AI in Advertising

Okay, I know what you're thinking. "AI? Isn't that just for big tech companies and sci-fi movies?" Well, not anymore. AI in advertising is like having a super-smart marketing team that works 24/7, never gets tired, and keeps getting better at its job. Sounds pretty sweet, right?

Here's the deal: AI can analyze mountains of data about your customers faster than you can say "targeted ad campaign." It learns from every click, every purchase, and every interaction to figure out exactly what makes your audience tick. And the best part? It does all this in real-time, constantly tweaking and improving your ads to get the best results.

Finding Your Perfect Customer (No Crystal Ball Needed)

Remember the days of throwing your ads out there and hoping the right people would see them? Yeah, those days are over. AI is like a heat-seeking missile for your ideal customers.

Let me give you an example. Say you're running a boutique fitness studio in Manchester. AI can look at your current members, analyze their behaviors and preferences, and then find people just like them who haven't heard of your studio yet. It's like cloning your best customers – but, you know, legally and without the whole sci-fi creep factor.

But it gets even better. Artificial Intelligence doesn't just find these people – it figures out the perfect time to show them your ads. Maybe it's right after payday when they're feeling flush, or on Monday mornings when they're feeling guilty about that weekend pizza binge. The point is, AI knows, and it makes sure your ads pop up at just the right moment.

Crafting the Perfect Message (Without Hiring Don Draper)

Now, finding the right people is great, but you've still got to convince them to buy what you're selling. This is where AI really starts to show off.

Imagine you're selling handcrafted furniture in Boston. AI can create dozens, even hundreds of ad variations, testing different headlines, images, and calls-to-action. It might discover that photos of your furniture in cozy, lived-in rooms perform better than sterile studio shots. Or that phrases like "heirloom quality" resonate more with your audience than "modern design."

The best part? It does all this testing in real-time, constantly refining your ads to squeeze out every last bit of performance. It's like having a team of copywriters and designers working around the clock, but without the coffee budget.

Making Your Marketing Budget Work Harder Than Ever

Let's talk money. As a business owner, I know every penny counts. That's why I'm excited about how AI is revolutionizing ad budgets and bidding.

Picture this: you're running a small tech startup in Tel Aviv, competing against big players with deep pockets. AI levels the playing field by making sure every shekel of your ad budget is spent in the most effective way possible. It predicts the best time to bid on ad placements, adjusts your budget across different platforms in real-time, and even detects and prevents ad fraud.

I recently chatted with a friend who runs an e-commerce site in Chicago. She implemented AI-powered budget optimization and saw her return on ad spend increase by 40% in just two months. That's the kind of result that can transform a business.

Getting Started: Baby Steps into the AI World

Alright, I know what you're thinking now. "This sounds great, but I'm not a tech genius. How do I even start?" Don't worry, you don't need to be Elon Musk to bring AI into your marketing strategy.

Start small. There are tons of user-friendly AI tools out there designed for businesses of all sizes. Maybe begin with an AI-powered tool for social media advertising. Or try out a platform that uses AI for keyword research and ad copy generation.

The key is to dip your toe in the water, see what works for your business, and then gradually expand from there. Remember, even the biggest companies started their AI journey with small steps.

A Little Learning Goes a Long Way

One last piece of advice: stay curious. The world of AI is evolving rapidly, and there's always something new to learn. Follow some marketing tech blogs, join online communities, or even attend a conference if you can. The more you understand about AI in advertising, the better you'll be able to leverage it for your business.

Wrapping It Up

Look, I get it. As business owners, we're bombarded with new technologies and trends all the time. It's hard to know what's worth our time and what's just hype. But I'm telling you, AI in advertising is the real deal. It's not just for the big players anymore – it's a tool that can help businesses of all sizes compete and thrive in today's digital landscape.

Whether you're trying to put your local bakery in Leeds on the map or scale your SaaS company in San Francisco, AI can help you reach the right people, with the right message, at the right time. And in today's crowded marketplace, that kind of precision can make all the difference.

So what are you waiting for? It's time to give your marketing efforts a serious upgrade. Trust me, your future self (and your bottom line) will thank you. Now go out there and show the world what your business can do – with a little help from your new AI friend, of course!

[lifeofpriya]

Behind the Mask - Jack Draper [Knight AU]

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

a/n: @2manytabsopen and i were having a chat about a knight au with jack and this was the result of that 🤭 i had writer's block for a few days, so yeah, sorry if it's a little crappy

summary: you and jack, your enigmatic knight/bodyguard, who has concealed his face for years, harbor a secret connection known only to you two...

"Your Highness, I heard screaming from the garden," Jack said with urgency laced in his voice as he barged into your bedroom. His eyes, the only visible part of his face, searched yours for any sign of distress.

You simply pointed at the rat that had been scurrying across the room, "rat," you whispered, your heart racing.

Jack's gaze followed your trembling finger and a soft chuckle emerged from his lips as he took off his helmet, revealing his eyes, an intoxicating shade of hazel that danced with amusement. "Ah, I'll take care of that," he said, placing the helmet on the intricately carved bedpost, the metal clinking against the wood.

Jack, your ever-present shadow, had been by your side since before you could remember. His true identity was a mystery to everyone in the castle, but to you, he was your confidant, your protector, and the one person who knew your deepest secrets. His face remained a canvas of shadows. His eyes were the gateway to his soul, expressing a world of emotions that his stoic exterior often concealed.

Jack approached the terrified creature, his boots echoing on the cold, marble floor. The rat, realizing it had been found, froze mid-scurry, its tiny black eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. With surprising gentleness, Jack knelt down, his armored knee clinking as he bent. His gloved hand reached out, and the rat, recognizing the lack of threat, cautiously approached.

"Jack, be careful," you warned, your eyes wide with fear and concern. But Jack's movements were fluid and calm, a stark contrast to your racing heart.

Jack spoke softly, "Don't worry, Your Highness. I've handled worse than this." He carefully picked up the trembling rat, its tiny claws digging into his thick leather gauntlet. He carried it to the open window and set it free into the night, watching it scurry away out into the moonlit courtyard.

You sighed with relief, "Thank you, Jack."

Jack turned to you, his eyes still holding the gentle warmth from his interaction with the rat. "It's nothing, really," he replied, placing the helmet back on his head, the shadows reclaiming his features.

You felt the sudden urge to reach out and touch his face, to uncover the secrets behind the steel mask. But you knew better. The mystery was part of his allure, part of what made him your devoted protector. You've shared countless moments like these, where Jack's unyielding strength had been the only thing keeping you grounded in the whirlwind of royalty.

"Your Highness," he said, breaking the silence. "You should rest."

You nodded, feeling the weight of the day's events pressing down on you. "You're right," you replied, your voice small.

Jack stepped closer, his armored presence seemingly filling the space between you and the door. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked, his voice a comforting rumble.

You hesitated, the plush velvet of the bedcovers feeling warm against your skin. "Jack, can I ask you something?"

The knight's eyes searched yours for a brief moment before nodding, "Of course, Your Highness."

You took a deep breath, the scent of the garden's night-blooming flowers wafting in through the open window. "Jack," you began, "why do you not let others see your face? Why just me?"

Jack paused, his eyes searching yours for understanding before he spoke. "My face holds no importance, Your Highness. It is my duty to serve, not to be seen." His voice was a soothing balm in the quiet night, the candlelight casting a soft glow on the polished armor that encased his body.

You felt a pang of curiosity, mixed with a hint of sadness at the thought of Jack being nothing more than a shadow to everyone else. "But to me, Jack," you pressed gently. "What makes me so special?"

Jack took a moment before responding, his eyes holding yours. "Your Highness," he began, his voice softer than usual, "you've always seen past the armor, past the duty. You've seen me as a person, a friend, not just a knight."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a feeling that had been building since you first met him all those years ago. The way he looked at you, even with his face hidden, was something no one else in the castle had ever done.

"But why hide it from everyone else?" you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice. "Surely, they would see you the same way."

Jack's eyes searched yours for a moment, as if weighing his words. "Perhaps," he conceded, "but the mask serves a purpose. It is a reminder of my role, a shield to protect me from the perils of emotion and attachment."

You nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of his words. "Yet you let me see your true face," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

Jack's eyes searched yours, a silent conversation passing between you. "You are the only one who has earned that right," he said, his voice thick with a warmth that seemed to fill the room.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, unsure how to respond to the sudden intimacy.

"Jack, I—"

He held up a hand, the gesture gentle despite the steel beneath his gauntlet. "Your Highness, I must insist you rest." Concern etched lines in his eyes that the mask couldn't hide.

You nodded, swallowing the words that hovered on the tip of your tongue. The candles flickered, casting a warm glow across the room that made the armor seem less imposing. "Alright, Jack," you conceded.

Jack lingered for a moment longer, his eyes searching yours before he nodded in understanding and moved towards the door. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call for me," he said, his hand on the ornate doorknob.

"I will, Jack," you assured him, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. You watched as the door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with the flickering candles and the gentle whispers of the night outside.

Rest, however, was not what you found. Your thoughts raced with questions about Jack, the man behind the mask. His dedication to his duty was unwavering, yet there was something more, a depth to him that no one else seemed to notice.

The moon had climbed high in the sky, casting a silver glow through the lace curtains. You lay on the soft pillows, the silk sheets cool against your skin. The castle was a symphony of night sounds: distant footsteps, the occasional muffled laughter from the guards, and the steady tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hall.

But your mind was with Jack, the enigma who had been your closest companion since childhood. His words echoed in your head. "You are the only one who has earned that right." What did he mean by that? Was it because you were royalty, or was there something more?

You pushed the bedcovers aside and slid out of bed, your bare feet whispering against the cool stone floor. The moon's glow beckoned you to the window, and you pondered over the complex tapestry of Jack's life. His eyes, the only part of him you've ever seen, had revealed so much and yet so little.

Making your way to the balcony, the night air greeted you with a gentle embrace. The castle's towers loomed tall and shadowy, the stars above like scattered jewels in the velvet sky. You leaned against the railing, the stone cool and reassuring under your palms. The whispers of the night grew louder, as if the castle itself had secrets it longed to share.

Jack's words lingered in your mind, a puzzle you longed to solve. His eyes, those warm, hazel orbs, had always been a comfort to you, but now they held a mysterious allure that you couldn't ignore. You wondered what his smile looked like, what his laugh sounded like when he wasn't playing the stoic knight.

The night was calm, the air crisp with the promise of secrets waiting to be unveiled. You decided to explore the castle, perhaps to find answers or maybe just to escape the tumult of your thoughts.

Making your way through the dimly lit corridors, you felt like a ghost, the shadows playing tricks with the flickering torches that lined the walls. The castle was vast, a labyrinth of grand halls and hidden passages that you had explored countless times with Jack by your side. Each step was a memory, each whisper of fabric against stone a reminder of the adventures you two had shared.

You wandered aimlessly, your heart beating in sync with the rhythm of your footsteps. The air grew colder as you ventured deeper into the castle's oldest wing, the one that was rarely used. The scent of dust and forgotten stories hung heavy in the air. The portraits of your ancestors watched you pass, their eyes following you like silent sentinels.

"Your Highness, why are you up at this hour?"

Jack's voice, low and concerned, pulled you from your thoughts. You spun around, your hand flying to your chest as your heart leapt into your throat. The moon's silver light bathed him in an ethereal glow, his armor gleaming like a specter in the night.

"Jack," you breathed out, trying to steady your racing pulse. "You startled me."

He took a step closer, the plates of his armor shifting with a soft clank. "Forgive me," he said, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. "Is there something you seek?"

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. "Just… I couldn't sleep. Thinking about earlier, I guess," you admitted, your voice small in the vastness of the hallway.

Jack's eyes searched yours for a moment before he spoke. "Your Highness, is there something specific you wish to discuss?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the words you had rehearsed in your head suddenly lost to the night. "I just… I wonder what it's like for you, behind that mask," you whispered. "What do you look like when you laugh? What does your smile look like?"

Jack was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. "My smile is nothing special," he said, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his eyes, the only part of his face not covered by the shadows of his mask. "But when it's for you, it feels like the sun breaking through a storm."

Your heart fluttered at his poetic words, the warmth in his voice reaching places within you that had long been cold. You stepped closer to him, the gap between you feeling as vast as the space between the stars above.

Without any hesitation, Jack took off his helmet, the metal clanging against the stone floor. The shadows lifted from his face, revealing a smile that could indeed brighten the darkest of days. His hair was a soft mess of chestnut and gold, the kind that looked like it was painted by the sun. His features were sharp and strong, yet the tenderness in his eyes was undeniable.

You stared at him, your heart racing. The sight of his smile was like a revelation, a treasure long hidden beneath layers of duty and expectation. The corners of his mouth crinkled, his cheeks dimpled slightly, and the warmth of his gaze washed over you like a gentle summer rain.

"Jack," you breathed, reaching up to touch his face. His skin was smooth, a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his uniform. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of energy through you as your fingertips traced the lines of his jaw, feeling the stubble that had grown during the day.

He didn't flinch or pull away, his gaze never leaving yours. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment, for you to finally break the barrier that had stood between you for so long.

"Your Highness," Jack said, his voice a gentle caress in the silence of the night. "I am sworn to protect you, not to burden you with my… imperfections."

You looked into his eyes, the hazel depths holding a vulnerability you had never seen before. "Jack, there's nothing imperfect about you."

Jack's smile grew, the warmth of it reaching into your soul. "You're kind to say so," he said, his voice a low murmur.

You stepped closer, the heat of his body mingling with the coolness of the night. "Jack, I—"

He leaned down, the shadows of his face playing in the moonlight. His gloved hand reached up to cup your cheek, the leather surprisingly soft against your skin. "Your Highness," he whispered, his voice thick with a mix of longing and duty.

You didn't know what to say, the words you had planned to express now tangled in the emotions swirling within you. All you could do was look into his eyes, the windows to his soul that had always been open to you.

Jack's gaze searched yours, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone in a tender caress. His hand was calloused from years of holding a sword, yet it was gentle as it cradled your face. You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leaned closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

The moment stretched, a delicate thread connecting your hearts that neither of you dared to break. The castle slept on, oblivious to the monumental shift happening between you two in the dusty, moonlit hallway.

Jack's hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a softness that seemed almost unreal, given the hardened exterior he presented to the world. You felt your own hand rise, trembling slightly, to touch his face in return. Your fingertips grazed the contours of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the warmth of his skin beneath the thin layer of stubble. It was a moment of silent confession, a declaration of feelings that had been hidden beneath layers of friendship and duty.

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand a comfort that had become as familiar as your own heartbeat. His eyes searched yours, the hazel depths revealing a maelstrom of emotions—concern, loyalty, and something else, something deeper and more profound than you had ever dared to hope for.

"Jack," you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion. "I've always felt safe with you, but now I feel something more."

Jack's eyes searched yours, a silent question lingering between you. The air grew thick with unspoken words, the only sound the distant toll of the castle's grand clock. His thumb paused on your cheek, and you could see the internal struggle in his gaze.

"Your Highness," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet night. "I am not… permitted to feel such things."

You leaned in closer, the warmth of his hand on your cheek a stark contrast to the cool marble beneath your bare feet. "But you do, don't you?" you whispered, your heart racing. "I've seen it in your eyes."

Jack's gaze searched yours, a silent battle raging behind the hazel shields. His hand trembled slightly before he spoke, "Your Highness, my feelings are not… appropriate."

You stepped closer, the warmth of his hand a comforting presence. "Jack," you murmured, "feelings can't be wrong, not when they're as strong as what I feel for you."

Jack's eyes searched yours, the hazel pools filled with a turmoil of emotions. His hand, still cupping your cheek, felt warm and steady despite the tremble that had gripped his fingers. "Your Highness," he began, his voice strained, "my duty—"

You placed a finger against his lips, silencing his protest. "Jack, you're more than just a knight to me. You've been my friend, my confidant, my protector. And now," you whispered, "you're something more."

Jack's eyes searched yours, the conflict within him as clear as the stars above. He took a deep, shaky breath before speaking, "Your Highness, if I allow this, there's no turning back. My duty is to protect you, to serve the crown. Nothing else."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. "Jack," you whispered, "I know. But what if… what if my happiness is part of that duty?"

Jack's eyes searched yours, the shadows playing across his unmasked face revealing the depth of his internal struggle. His hand on your cheek grew still, his thumb stopping its gentle caress.

"Your happiness is the crown's happiness," he said, his voice a solemn promise. "But, my duty—"

You took his hand from your face, the warmth of his palm a reassurance that he was real, that this moment was real. "Jack, if loving you means I'm happier, then it is my duty to love you. And if being loved by me makes you happier, then isn't that your duty too?"

Jack's eyes searched yours, the hazel depths filled with a tumult of emotions. "Your Highness," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't understand."

You stepped closer, the warmth of his hand a comforting presence. "Jack, I do understand," you insisted gently. "We've been through so much together. I trust you more than anyone else in this world. And if this is what makes us happy, then isn't that worth fighting for?"

Jack's hand tightened around yours, the warmth of his skin seeping into your bones. He was silent for a long moment, the only sound the distant toll of the castle's grand clock echoing through the corridor. The shadows played across his unmasked face, revealing the internal struggle he faced.

Before he could say another word, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, the softness of your kiss a stark contrast to the hard lines of his jaw. Jack stiffened, his hand frozen on your cheek, and for a heartbeat, you feared you had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

But then, something within him seemed to give way. His armor creaked as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. His mouth moved with yours, tentatively at first, as if learning the contours of something precious and new. His kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if he had been holding back this part of himself for an eternity.

The world outside the castle walls ceased to exist in that moment. All that mattered was the two of you, entwined in the quiet embrace of the night. The shadows danced around you, as if celebrating the revelation of this long-hidden love.

[bobbie-robron]

Classic ED schedule - week 30 (2024)

UK START TIME FOR THE WEEK: 1:40 P.M.

23-Jul: 09-Oct-2005 (4173), 10-Oct-2005 (4174)

Simon won’t take a loan from Rodney knowing Nicola’s behind it. Simon & Ivan lodgers together? Donna is having second thoughts about the wedding.

24-Jul: 11-Oct-2005 (4175), 12-Oct-2005 (4176)

Alice comes clean about her cancer to Sam. What’s the verdict with Val? Ethan overseas Max’s funeral. Jimmy gives Tom some home truths over Max.

25-Jul: 13-Oct-2005 (4177), 14-Oct-2005 (4178)

Tom vows revenge against Andy for Max but Jack’s talk gives him food for thought but the feud isn’t over. Things get too much for Diane. Jo, Paddy and a chat room…

26-Jul: 16-Oct-2005 (4179), 17-Oct-2005 (4180)

Laurel plays matchmaker to Ethan & Kelly over Trivial Pursuit but he kisses Laurel instead! The Kings sell the haulage yard. Ethan sleeps with ‘whore’ Kelly to get over Laurel.

27-Jul: 18-Oct-2005 (4181), 19-Oct-2005 (4182) - Welcome Eden Taylor-Draper as Belle Dingle!

Kelly spreads lies around that Laurel is cheating on Ashley with Ethan who throws her further under the bus with the Bishop. Kelly & Jimmy have fun in a bubble bath.