#it took me 5 months to finish the first because reading on my mobile phone fucks up my eyes

[harrycollins]

I hope my cousin will come back from USA this summer to visit so I can ask him to bring me the rest of Farseer Trilogy books I read the first one and it was good but I cant find a physical copy of them and I am not reading 800+ page long books on my mobile phone lmao.

[daemonmatthias]

despite my best efforts at a schedule and socializing... it’s been one of the hardest summers I’ve had in a while.

some of it is big things, like struggling to stick to any kind of schedule I set for myself due to this being the first year my husband’s work schedule is hybrid (he is home every other week, then I am home alone every other week; if it were just one or the other, I’d be fine), and not being able to go on walks due to the heat.

some of it is nebulous things, like needing to save money but then Sales keep happening on things we kinda need/weird things pop up, and my husband is bored af all day at work and then his mood affects mine because i just am sensitive to other people’s moods, and the fact that we need to formally decide if we are moving out of state soon (husband knows his answer, but I am scared/overwhelmed and will have to quit teaching), and that all this weirdness is making it So Hard to Concentrate on Reading, which is usually my solace in the summer.

but honestly, a lot of it is stupid little things and I don’t understand why so many of them are happening all at once. Just since yesterday morning:

the new avocado I needed to quarter for my usual breakfast smoothies refused to yield the pit, which ended up breaking, and I spent a solid 5 min scraping and slicing to be sure there were no remnants

immediately after I finally got that situated, I grabbed the new carton of almond milk, and it was... somehow sealed wrong?? idk how, but it would NOT open. so I tried opening the side to make a spout (like the little milk cartons from school), but that also would not open cleanly. I ended up needing a knife to slice into it. And then I had to go digging for a pitcher we never use to keep it in since the carton was destroyed.

then my nook crapped out on me. [backstory first: 2 months ago, my nook started randomly resetting itself, which deletes all of your side-loaded content. I ended up having to call customer service. They wanted me to hard reset. It took like 1.5 hours on the phone with them because it SAID it was connected to the wifi but then it wouldn’t do the next step of the set up process because it couldn’t find a wifi connection. Finally the set up process actually went through and they were like “ok all good now!” (right. ok. magically fixed the resetting issue by resetting it. yeah.)] Yesterday, while I was in the middle of reading a library book (considered side-loaded content), it reset itself again, which, of course, deleted the book I was reading.

We agreed last time that if it kept happening, I could get a new nook. Unfortunately, the new model doesn’t come out until september and I’m wary of buying another of the same model in case it has the same problem 2 years in (which is past the warranty period, of course). I did decide to pre-order the new one and pray that hard resetting would again “magically fix” the problem for another 2 months.

This morning, I finally made myself start cleaning the porch. This is terrifying because our porch gathers leaf litter like a mofo and I haven’t cleaned it in ages. There are all sorts of spiders and bugs out there. 

AND of course my gardening gloves have been in an unsealed cart out there. they are shot. i will have to do all this bare handed...

I successfully get the pots of dead plants thrown away. I begin to gather the open bags of dirt to throw them away, having to be extra careful of spiders with my bare hands. A wasp starts flying around me. I try but fail miserably to remain calm and run inside. That chore will not get done today, and today was the last day of below 100F/some cloud cover for who knows how long.

Since I can’t do that chore, I check my amazon cart to see if anything we need got put on prime sale. basically... no. I buy it anyway. or try to; the shipping page keeps crapping out on mobile. I move to my computer and finish the purchase on desktop.

now time to pre-order that nook. except it won’t let me sign in. b&n’s website has so many trackers and shit that it breaks firefox sometimes. (is2g i use nook only because others don’t let you completely turn the backlight off, and as soon as my free year of premium membership is up, I’m going back to using bookshop.org for everything.) I switch to chrome (blech) and sign in.

i press “pay with paypal” and then “complete purchase”. It never pulled up my paypal to let me choose which card to pay with. I have to get into paypal to even figure out which card it payed with. It paid with not the credit card I wanted, not even my default card as selected in paypal, but with our shared checking account. (annoying but no damage done.)

time now to hard reset my nook... oh look, it’s doing the same connected/not connected to the wifi thing. goody...

all this in only the last 30ish hours. and it feels like the whole summer has been like this!

I can’t pretend good things haven’t happened. I visited my family, my bestie visited me and we did a fun craft together, I joined a new public library and love it more than my old one, I hung out with a friend to eat good food and visit a thrift/record store, we FINALLY framed/hung some art and it looks GREAT, I reorganized most of our music so its easier to access, husband made an htpc (home theater computer) so we no longer get youtube ads and he set up plex on it so I can watch the shakespeare plays I have downloaded, I finally made our new 9 delights tracker and it’s almost perfect, I joined my coworker-friend’s book club (bingo card system- good-, but the group read is an author I hate), I crocheted a dog sweater that actually worked (but idk yet if it fits cuz it’s for my parents’ dog), I began the process of switching away from google drive/gmail to something more secure (proton, which I got for almost 50% off).

And there are SO MANY good things coming up: we leave in a couple days to visit the city we might move to, we have tickets to barbie & oppenheimer, we’ll go to a friend’s daughter’s 1st bday party, my besties are coming to visit (museum, escape room, and musical all purchased and lined up!), we’re spending labor day weekend in a luxury cabin in the mountains with friends (owned by one friend’s rich aunt who is not charging/excited to host us), we have tickets to see my fav studio ghibli in theaters in sept., I have tickets to see To Kill a Mockingbird with a coworker-friend, we have ballet tickets for the season...

and yet, I’m struggling daily to complete basic tasks and maintain a positive attitude due to the onslaught of Stupid Little Grievances. :/

[rigelmejo]

Some September 1st Updates

the READING SPEED difference of a novel at my level! I read the first chapter of 撒野 yesterday and this author is at exactly my reading level right now. I hit 0-2 new words each pleco page, which is usually the sweet spot to either guess the word or if I look it up I can pretty quickly adapt to recognizing it in context. Its also the sweet spot where if I only rely on guessing for new word meanings, on a second pass through I can fairly well guess the meaning quickly. 

It was a 32 page chapter in pleco and I read it in 20 minutes. Compared to the 20 pleco page per chapter pingxie fic i just finished (like 124k characters! WOW I read and FINISHED that much!), which was taking 30-40 minutes per chapter (mainly because of number of new vocabulary per chapter being a bit higher). If I’d wanted to speed read saye I could have, I’d have missed some small details but I could have tried if I wanted.

Then I did a second pass later in the day with the audiobook just following along with the text. Realized 1. I knew most words in the audiobook and did not follow as well as i thought - but those first listen throughs without having seen the chapter I did manage to figure out the main character just broke up, just travelled somewhere, ran into a girl and somehow the girls brother showed and the two guys interacted a little and someone was being somewhat helpful, then the main guy met his father trying to ‘pick him up.’ Which is a true but very rough summary of what happens in the first chapter. By reading I could confirm the words I thought were names AS names, figured out WHY the girl was interacting with the main guy and that there were actually two girls in chapter 1, and figure out who helped who and who was the girl’s brother. Also somehow before I looked at the chapter text I never caught that the audiobook mentions a motorcycle despite me knowing that word and it SOUNDING like mota-che/motorche! it sounds like the word and i knew it and didn’t hear it! Then later following the audiobook with the text I realized another issue I had, is I’m not used to listening to soft voices with such faint pronunciations of the final sounds. I’m much more used to deeper crisper pronunciations and being able to rely clearly on initials and finals AS much as tones to recognize the words, whereas this particular audiobook i needed to mainly rely on tones and initials to figure out what word was what - that probably threw me off a bit. It’s probably good for me to get practice listening to such a different voice to what I’m used to. I have definitely learned the deeper the voice, the more I have a far easier time figuring out what’s being said. Also standard accent more like beijing but without a huge amount of ‘er’s just some, and taiwan accent are the easiest for me to hear when i’m not pa

For anyone curious, here is the audiobook for SaYe I’m listening to: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2w27tfjeeaySbMK272NpXwUtsBc-e3YN

Also here’s a chinese audiobook youtube I found: https://www.youtube.com/c/%E6%9C%89%E5%A3%B0%E5%B0%8F%E8%AF%B4%E5%90%AC%E4%B9%A6%E4%B8%96%E7%95%8Cyoushengxiaoshuo/playlists

Which includes The King’s Avatar: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTJaWZoVPdT1ZhIQIKxVci7fVEHr-oX6k

And ErHa: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsxEOGKlBMaFa6CS6Hf5ndy6qTtUL0Au_

Anyway, its a great book right now for reading practice. It’s very much around my level. I will probably stick with this author for a little while and solidify what I know/my base reading level. 

-

IN OTHER NEWS:

I am apparently living proof listening-reading, heavy emphasis on re-listening a TON in the background as you work or type or walk/drive whatever, works for learning new words. 

I re-listened to guardian chapter 1 audiobook at least 20-30 times by now, just a tremendous amount. Chapters 1-10 I’ve listened to at least 5 times by now random chapters at random days, and some probably also 20 times. 

I have listened to these chapters enough, that I can officially follow so much that I know nearly every freaking word I hear, I know it immediately on hearing in at least 3 different audiobooks, and the few ‘less familiar’ words I recognize a second after hearing (like hearing ‘audacious’ or ‘glum’ in english it just takes me a second to re-remember), and the very few still forgotten words/specific details I learn From those words I can actually pick up from the context of listening.

 I hear ‘powei’ and somehow forgot it AGAIN? Oh it means ‘rather’ in this context. ‘anli’ well i always hear ‘anlishuo’ as in ‘people say/generally speaking’ so ‘anli’ in this context must mean ‘generally/generally speaking.’ chuanghu? can’t remember it because i was just typing this JUST now and only hearing a few words from the audiobook in the background - well in context its obviously window, but out of context my brain said window and i just couldn’t remember if it was window or curtain but felt curtain had something more complex than ‘hu’ as the second half - just looked it up and my guess was right, even with no context which i’d have had if i’d been listening better and it had been clear it’s window, it still made me think ‘window’ immediately just hearing the sound. ‘xiang yi ge ren’ sounds like ‘looks like a person’ which is the next phrase i just randomly heard. ‘hua le yao ming’ shouted for their life/in awful terror? or that would be ‘huo’, so maybe ‘streaking toward him to take his life’? would make sense in context of a horror scene - i just looked it up and 划了要命 would be the second one. even IF i heard the wrong line, both of those are pretty close to a good guess in context and hua is the only unknown because without context i can’t place if it was hua or huo. i still confuse the words wu and wo for hold etc, but in context i can tell which one it is (wo is hold a hand, hold a face, etc). 

I’m genuinely at a point where I can just completely follow the plot through at least the first 20 chapters from listening. And for most scenes, follow every detail too including stuff like guo changcheng spending half a year not working at home after he graduated, being so afraid of the phone, da qing being fawning to shen wei when they meet and rubbing against his leg, the specific conversation details when da qing runs across zhao yunlan’s car in chapter 2, what zhao yunlan’s room exactly looks like, etc. Its super cool to be able to follow the audiobook so well I can follow the story and details even when I don’t have time to read! It’s so fun! And it was not very hard!

It took 40 minutes of upfront study where you set time aside to focus: 20 minutes to have a program read the chapter aloud while you either see unknown word definitions pop up (like in Pleco) or look them up with some click dictionary as you listen. 20 minutes to go through and listen to the audiobook as you follow along with the text. Then after that, just play the audiobook chapters you’ve done this with whenever you want, either paying attention like when going to bed soon or walking, or in the background like when cleaning or doing busy work or driving. Since background listening can be done easily whenever all you have to do is remember to click play when you want something to listen to. 

I’m honestly blown away by how much 3 months of studying mainly like this (which is quite fun and only requires me to carve out a small amount of actual study focused time) has improved my listening skills. I can now also listen to the 2ha audiobook okay and follow along (provided its a chapter I’ve read before so I have at least some prior context to help me out) - at least so far as that’s what I’m listening to right now. Basically, I can tell Guardian has both upped my vocabulary significantly and also improved my automatic recognition of many words I half-knew and learned since. 

I recently found a new Guardian audiobook read by a deep voice and its lovely (and utilizes music and echo for effects, its lovely to listen to) I hope the poster keeps updating: https://fm.qq.com/show/rd002ED4aN0mYz2L__

I’ve been listening to it lately.

---

Also! Directions for using Pleco Android for screen reader:

1. To get any page bookmarked online: 

Open a page in your mobile web browser you want to read. Click the menu, click share, click Pleco Reader (or ‘more’ or ‘...’ then Pleco Reader).

Go to Clipboard Reader. Now when you click text, dictate text megaphone will be an option.

*Since Clipboard Reader is free, you can do this to read in Pleco and have things spoken aloud with no money spent. (Though I find the Reader tool worth the money and add ons).

2. To have any text ‘dictated aloud’:

Go to Pleco’s menu, Settings, Audio, click ‘use TTS if no recording,’ then for Sentence Audio section area System TTS Setting click Speech Services by Google (you can also experiment by clicking other options I am just stating what worked for me, it didn’t work at first I had to make that my default TTS in my Accessibility-Talkback Settings menu on my main phone first and restart my phone before all this). 

Then click the area right below to mess with speed and sound of the TTS voice. 

(Note, to test if TTS is working you can go to any dictionary entry sentence, click the speaker next to the sentence and see if it plays audio. If it does not, you will get an error message and directions on what to change in your phone settings. That is what initially happened to me: I had to go to phone Settings, Accessibility, Talkback, TTS Engine, TTS Engine voice and settings. Pleco recommended I choose Speech Services by Google, and uninstall then reinstall the Chinese voice. Then restart the phone. That worked for me. An additional note: I have Talkback setting on ‘on’ and just have it in my toolbar to use if desired but am not actively using it. If you turn Talkback setting ‘off’ in the actual Settings area of Accessibility, I am not sure if it will affect Pleco’s ability to dictate). 

3. How to put it together: 

Now go to Clipboard Reader and read the page from the internet you wanted or text you pasted, or go to Document Reader and open the document you wish to read. 

Click a word as a place to start. Now you should see both the loudspeaker (for pronouncing the single word) and the Megaphone next to it to start dictating all text. (If your phone is weird like me, you may need to press the megaphone a couple times before the audio works).

If you wish to change dictation reading speed, simply hold down the megaphone and select the speed desired. 

Now that I’ve figured this out I really want to take pictures of my print book, make a pdf, and listen to all the changes.

(Now I just have to fix my weird dictionary in Idiom app and I’m all set on the new phone!)

---

All I’ve been doing the past august study wise is just reading pingxie fic and finishing, and listening to audiobooks. It’s been a busy time for me ToT

I do think it proved you can be lazy and still make some improvements though: 

1. Reading in Pleco (or click-dictionary tool of your choice): pick something and read a chapter a day (that’s what I did, obviously the easier this is the less time you’ll need, but aim for around 30 minutes a day and reading material closer to your level if you don’t want to read too long)

2. Listening-Reading Method something above your reading level that you enjoy. Should take 40 minutes a couple times a week to several times a week to hours a week, depending on how intense you want to get with it and how much you’re going to alternate/include the reading portion. I did like 1-2 chapters a week so I was only spending 40 minutes to 1.5 hours a week doing this, or 3 hours one week no time another week. This is definitely something where you can do 6-12 hours one month then coast on it for another month just repeating older material’s audio/re-reading sections (which is what I did with guardian, doing 22 chapters then switching to just listening to audio a lot). 

Once you’ve done a little L-R steps 2 and 3 (in either order, whatever works for you - and doing step 1 if you want more context prior to steps 2 and 3), then just make time during your days to play the audiobook chapters you’ve studied. You don’t need to be focusing every single time (although focusing on actually trying to follow the audio the first time you listen without text to aid you will probably speed up your comprehension a lot by giving you a lot of basic-context to help you comprehend more later). Aim to listen whenever you’ve got down time! Or time where you’d play music or some background youtube video or podcast - walks, exercise, drives, when cleaning, when browsing the web goofing off, when working if you have times when you’d listen to music with lyrics or a podcast in the background without issues, times when you don’t need to focus 100% on listening just putting it on to hear in the background). 

That’s all I’ve done for study since May. It takes me about 30 minutes 5 days a week, plus 1-2 hours listening-reading actively a week. So 2.5 hours plus 2 = 4 hours of active study a week. Sometimes more like 8-10 if I got really into reading something or Listening-reading to several chapters. Then after that (very easy to fit into my life 4-10 hours per week of study) I just play the audiobook whenever I have downtime at work (that’s usually 0.5-4 hours where I just let it play because I forget its on while working on spreadsheets, updates, emails, etc, or play the audiobook while messing around on the internet in my free time at home, sometimes I put on music instead), while walking so 15-30 minutes maybe 3 days a week, while driving far so maybe 20 minutes - 2 hours per week. maybe lets say 2 hours*4 days a week (I don’t remember to listen every day) so 8 hours random listening+1.5 hours walking+1 hour driving per week. That’s 11.5 hours listening in the background or paying attention plus lets say 4 hours of active study a week. So 15.5 ‘study’ hours for chinese per week - an average overall of ~2.21 hours of chinese ‘study’ per day. This isn’t counting when I get into weibo and goof off, get into some chinese show with no english subs and just start watching it (I watched 16 episodes of Humans cdrama in August which is ~10.66 hours for a total of at least (15.5*4 weeks = 62 hours + 10.66 hours -> ~72.66 hours spent ‘with chinese’ in August at minimum. 4 weeks*7 days = 28, so over around 28 days or most of august I did 72.66 total hours/28 days -> or ~2.595 hours of chinese per day as an average. So... my guess that I spend at least 1-2 hours on chinese per day as the average was a decent guess. Looks like I’m usually 2 hours to 2.5 hours daily as an overall average. It’s not that hard to get in that much without a ton of time in the day once you get some listening skills built up ToT Deciding to build up my listening skills has been one of the funnest goals in chinese so far.

Notes on Listening Reading Actively - it also doubles as increasing your exposure to listening to your target language, and the more hours the better even if its passive in the background, just more hours adding up toward your mind getting a better ability to parse the sounds of the language is going to help your overall listening comprehension in general. So even if you don’t pay attention much and can’t follow the whole plot and only catch certain scenes, you will be improving at least comprehension of: hearing words you know, hearing colocations and common phrases and recognizing more automatically which will help with speaking/writing indirectly and reading recognition of those things, overall ability to hear things correctly in different combinations and getting used to the common combinations. 

You will be surprised how much more you can pick up of plot and details the 3rd listen compared to the first, the 5th listen, the 10th listen. It’s wild. Like... I’m listening to the 2ha audiobook and even having never read it in chinese, just knowing basic context, the 2nd read through I caught so much more of the plot throughout just because I had forewarning of when scenes change a lot, what audio plays during some parts I recognized in previous listens, and so I have more focus for figuring out the new details I missed. Whereas the first listen, I didn’t always know WHAT the scene context was until I heard a familiar line or description I remembered from the english version of the scene, but on a second listen I now have a better guess at the scene the lines are probably taking place in before and after those lines I recognized in the first listen. And this continues etc each time you re-listen to something. (So yes, that initial context of knowing what you’re listening to with a previous read of its translation or target language transcript will definitely speed up comprehension pick up - but if you just wanna test what your basic listening comprehension to new content is then it works fine just going into new audio with no prior context its just more difficult at first lol until you build an idea of the context from listening).

The original Listening-Reading Method person did like 40+ hours a week, 8 hours most days, no wonder they made fast progress! They often included reading in some form (hence the name) and later translation, so they also were constantly working on listening AND some reading skills AND eventually often some speaking/writing skills. Doing it my way results in mostly listening comprehension of stuff you could already read to a degree, more automaticity in recognition, and for picking up new vocabulary both in listening and reading. I do extra reading on the side with other stuff to get more reading practice in an isolated way (since I’m trying to push my reading speed up above speaking speed). I always try to do it the way the creator originally intended, but I am not able to focus on things for more than 20 minutes at a time, 40 to a couple hours if I take a break every 20 minutes. So doing it 8 hours just doesn’t work out. 

---

I’m fairly happy!

I am on plan for my main goals that started this style study plan: 

1. Improving my reading level to get to start being able to extensively read actual danmei novels - we got there! I am at a reading level appropriate for SaYe at 98% comprehension when I checked, and at a bit above 95% comprehension for Guardian! I’m now continuing with that goal while adding on increasing reading Speed in general.

2. Improving listening skills so I have better automatic recognition of partly-known words from reading (working super well so far - I can tell because ability to watch cdramas in only chinese has improved noticeably and gotten much easier), and so I can start following the main plot and key details of audiobooks of things I’ve read before (working great for guardian, starting to work with other audiobooks provided I listen to the chapters a few times or several times if its brand new material I have no context for, however reading level matters and while things I have prior familiarity with are going very well - brand new materials are still quite challenging in that they require multiple listens for the full plot and several listens before I start picking up most non-plot-critical details). 

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 5 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.  

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode four. Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: I was going to make it only one chapter with the plot of episode four but it ended up HUGE, so I'm splitting this one in two. I’m posting the next one very very soon (probably tomorrow), just need to finish reviewing it sksksk

(warnings: mentions of death, gunshots, blood) (word count: 4K)

five: funeral

Ayo considered you for a moment, then turned to Bucky. “Eight hours. Do not forget.”

You exhaled slowly after she was gone, allowing yourself to return to a more relaxed state.

“You know Ayo?” Bucky said, after he made sure the door was well closed.

Sam mused from behind you.

“And you speak Xhosa!”

“When King T’Challa opened Wakanda to the world, I ended up leading the relations between our countries from our side. Learning the language was the least I could do.” You shrugged, smiling fondly when you remember the awkward phase where you still mispronounced everything, and how astoundingly lenient the King had been during it.

“Accomplished. It was sweet of you to defend me, at least.”

You raised an eyebrow at the glass of water you’re drinking, grateful that Zemo didn’t speak the language. If only he knew.

Well, you had a feeling he would. Eight hours. T-minus-fifteen.

“Hey, you shut it. No one is defending you. You killed Nagel.” Sam bit at Zemo, and you put down your water and took your phone.

It had been blowing up since the signal returned after your flight to Latvia, every single person who ever had your contact was looking for you. Understandably. It was your first “vacation” in a long time.

You swiped the notifications away, and your eyes met Bucky’s while Sam and Zemo squabbled.

“You shouldn’t be good at that. It’s not fair.”

“It’s just a phone, Buck.” You smirk up at him, and a corner of his lip tugs upwards in response. “And I’ve been around long enough to know how to deal with the ever-changing technology.”

“Does that mean you’re the older one now? I’ve been frozen.”

“Do I get older privilege?” You asked, not looking up from the screen. The news feed caught your attention, and you were quick to scroll past the one talking about The Winter Soldier’s appearance in Madripoor.

“…No.” Bucky pushed his bottom lip forward, shaking his head. You bit your lip to refrain yourself from telling him just how much of a child he was, but couldn’t hide your grin.

The next headline made the grin fall out of your mouth, it being replaced by a frown. You slid the phone to Bucky, you two sharing a concerned look as soon as he read it too.

“Sam. Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

You rubbed your temples and started pacing as Bucky explained to the other two men the situation. Three dead. Eleven wounded. Your heart wrenched, and you pressed a fist to your chest when you imagine how dire the things have to be for that to had become the latest desperate measure.

Wars have civilian casualties. People are bound to be caught in the crossfire. You knew this. You’d seen it. This was a deliberate attack, and it was a different time and conjecture, but you felt almost the same as you did when you walked through the rubble made of Europe, 80 years ago.

Seeds for a new war. You’d hoped you wouldn’t get to see it sprout again.

You finally looked up as Zemo questioned the three of you about having the will to complete the mission.

“She’s just a kid.”

You moved to rest a hand on Sam’s shoulder, but in the end, you might have been more looking to ground yourself than anything. He nodded at you either way, and you could see Bucky’s eyes on you from your peripheral.

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there. You’re clouded by it. She’s a supremacist. The very concept of Super Soldier will always trouble people.” Zemo spoke with certainty, as if he was a professor and the three of you his pupils.

“I doubt she sees things that way.” You raised your finger as soon as he opened his mouth to retort. “Not everyone has the chance to be studying politics and understand how revolutionary movements can become extremism. Most people are just fighting to get to see another day.”

You wondered if Baron Helmut Zemo would ever understand that, the struggle. The uncertainty that wakes up with you and goes to sleep when you do, only to pose itself the next morning.

“It’s that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.” His next line seemed to be enough of an answer. You let your hand slide off Sam’s shoulder, realizing you had it in a tight grip the whole time, and resumed your pacing.

You doubted Karli Morgenthau had much chance to reflect on the long-term consequences of her mobilization. She was helping people, people who needed things right away; she was providing immediate relief. The world only had given violence in return.

“She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her. Or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo. The Serum never corrupted Steve.” Bucky retorted, but that obviously wasn’t enough to shake Zemo’s convictions.

The ache in our chest grew just a tad stronger, and you sank on the large sectional couch; Bucky seemed to have sensed your wariness, because soon enough he was bumping knees with you on the empty seat to your left. He radiated irritation, squared shoulders and head thrown back.

You laced your arm with his, nodding along with Sam as he talked about his aunt, understanding his plan when he reasoned that they might be doing a funeral ceremony for Donya. Bucky seemed to have loosened it up a little, and you agreed with him. It was worth a shot.

“You doin’ okay?” Bucky whispered, adjusting his arm so yours could have more room.

You raised your eyes at Zemo, stopping for a few seconds to observe the golden embroidery of the couch behind Bucky’s head before looking at him.

You squeezed his bicep. You mustered a small, strained smile.

Bucky’s eyes did not leave yours the entire time, two pools of blue and warmth and comfort that made you ache with how much you’d missed them all of these years.

“Jus’ fine.”

Bucky nodded.

“Liar.”

You flicked his ear with your free hand, which made him grunt. You giggled as Bucky shook his head and muttered something about you being such a child, and you could feel your nervousness easing up.

“Don’t be so grumpy, old man.”

---

You parted ways as Sam, Bucky and Zemo went to the displacement camp, and you went to the GRC office in Riga in search of information. You hadn’t been seen with them yet, so you took the chance of still being considered just a diplomat on a trip, seeking to maybe be of assistance in trying times.

It hadn’t been the most productive of mornings. The people at the office knew as little as you did of Donya Madani, or any of the other displaced people, which was appalling at the least. All they had was some half-assed records of when the camp had been formed, and that was months ago. Who knew how many people had joined by then. No wonder the Flag Smashers were at large, with more people joining and supporting the cause every day.

John Walker and Lemar Hoskins walked through the building’s doors, just as you were ready to leave. Hoskins recognized you immediately, whispering something to the new Captain America before both men approached you.

You shook their hands graciously, but your eyes remained on the door, you not wanting to waste precious time with the two. Especially Walker, who seemed to wear the shield on his back like it was a badge of honor, or even a safe-conduct to back up his moves.

It didn’t sit right with you, and not just because the man who wielded the shield before him was unreplaceable to you, and the man who stood before you seemed to have been handpicked to step inside Steve’s shoes, same size and all. His height, his built, his set jaw, the blue eyes, the blonde hair; as far as looks went, the perfect impersonator. It was the way he carried himself that set you off though, proud of himself and his own privilege. And you had barely any interaction with him aside from watching him perform in front of cameras, and, well, now.

“I’m very sorry gentlemen – but I should get going. This detour of my vacation is already on borrowed time.”

Hoskins nodded solemnly, but Walker took another step towards you. “I know about your previous work with Steve, it would be nice to have you on your side too.”

“Like I said, I’m off duty. Try not to make a mess out of it.” The lie slips off your lips easily, and you offer them an apologetic smile before turning to leave.

“There’s some Avengers on the hunt for the Flag Smashers too.”

Hoskins’ voice stopped you in your tracks, and you studied the two, wondering just how much they actually knew.

“Just think about it, okay? If you’re gonna help someone, make sure you’re helping the right people.”

That’s exactly what you were doing, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“Hoskins. Cap. Have a nice day.” You nodded at them, not looking behind you as you take off to the cobblestone streets.

---

Sam and Bucky turned to watch you when arrived back at Zemo’s condo, closing the door gently behind you.

“Nothing.” You answered before they could ask, shaking your head slightly. From the defeated way they were sank on that couch, you assumed they were met with dead ends as well. “And Walker’s here, so expect things to get complicated.”

“You met with Walker?” Bucky asked, his jaw tensing up as he looked up at you.

“More like he met me. Offered me a job.” You chuckled humorlessly at the irony of it. Apparently you were now known for getting Steve out of trouble, and not for getting into it with him. How the tables turn. “He’s lacking intel as much as we are though.”

You threw your coat on the coffee table, and watched it slip down to the floor unimpressed. Bucky dipped to pick it up, draping it over the back of the couch while shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. Sam giggled, earning himself a glare.

Zemo approached your group with a tray of steaming tea. Bucky focused his glare on him.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky narrowed his eyes, a taunting tone to his voice.

Zemo paused, and his eyes jumped from Bucky, to Sam, to you, and the ground. The mood is restless, charged with tension, ready to spark like an open wire at the edge of water.

The Sokovian visibly relaxes his posture when he bends down to serve himself tea. “The funeral is this afternoon.”

It wasn’t not surprising to you that he was withholding information, though it was bold. His confidence was baffling, if anything.

“You’re on thin ice, Zemo.” You narrow your eyes at him, and he offers you a small, lofty smile.

Bucky looked at you and nodded before reminding Zemo of the Dora Milaje and demanding he kept talking.

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli.” He retorts to Bucky and hums, shaking his head. “There’s still much I want to know, including why an American diplomat is tagging along for an altercation against a group of Super Soldiers.”

Zemo looked at you, inspecting your form as you leaned over a tiled column. He lingers on, but you know you have the higher ground. You don’t look the part of super soldier, in the way like the Flag Smashers don’t also. It’s advantageous, it gets you to blend in with the rest of world. You were aware that Zemo has been suspicious ever since you walked through the heavy wooden doors the first time, though, and he was trying to carve information out of you through veiled threats.

“I prefer to keep my leverage.”

This seemed to spur Bucky on. He got up from the couch, stalking towards Zemo in a casual gait, only to grab the teacup from the other man’s grasp and throw it violently at another column.

Your breath hitched.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?”

It sounded almost alien to you, the venom that dripped from Bucky’s words. You definitely hadn’t kept that in your memories of him, and you remind yourself that Bucky was no longer just that gallant boy from Brooklyn, he had more wars and baggage than anyone should carry.

So did you.

Sam got to Bucky before you could get your legs to move. “Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.”

As if on cue, Zemo tilted his head upright.

Sam retreats to make a call, whacking Bucky on the shoulder as he left the room. The sound makes you shift, and you walked forward to put yourself between him and Zemo.

“Thin fuckin’ ice.” You snarl. Bucky disengaged by leaning on his heels.

“Want some cherry blossom tea?”

You huffed and nudged Bucky’s waist to prompt him to follow you, wanting nothing more to get him – and yourself – away from Zemo before disaster ensued. He still held the information you needed, though his bargaining chips were running out.

You had the distinct feeling that he knew that too.

“No, you go ahead.”

The room you found yourselves next is small, but just as luxurious as the rest of the apartment, with thick embroidered cushions littering a daybed and stained glass on the windows, casting colorful rays of light over the floor.

“You won’t go home if I ask you to, will you?” Bucky asked, and you chuckled.

“Absolutely not.”

A pained little sound left Bucky’s throat, and you sat down on the daybed to face him. He was leaning against the wall, eyebrows knitted.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all, Buck.”

“I do. That’s why I’m worried.” You rolled your eyes at him, making him look away from you, jaw clenched.

You sighed. “Bucky. I’m a highly trained super soldier.” Retired, too, and probably rusty, but you decided to not put that thought on his head. “I have more field experience than you, I bet. Don’t trouble yourself too much.”

His shoulders sagged, and you raised your hand to smooth the collar of his jacket, like you’ve done a million times before, back when you were still only a girl, and he was only a boy. The familiarity in those acts of intimacy covered you like a warm blanket, and you caught yourself wondering if Bucky felt the same.

“I worry about you too, you know. Why I’m here.”

Bucky turned his head to look at you, eyes roaming over your face. “How much did Sam tell you about Madripoor?”

“All of it, I think.”

There was torment in his eyes, that he tried concealing by looking at the floor. He nodded curtly, and the gesture propels you to leap forward and hold his face in your hands.

“Not worried like that.” You knit your eyebrows together, speaking firmly at him. “Worried about you throwing yourself into another fight. And losing you to it, again. So here I am, James, and stop trying to get rid of me.”

He either crashed into you or you into him, you’re not sure, but it barely mattered. Bucky had his arms firmly around you, his forehead resting on your shoulder. A hug that came eight decades too late, making you have to blink tears away.

“Don’t wanna lose you again too.” Bucky mumbled into your hair, and you squeezed him just a little bit tighter.

“You won’t. M’ here.”

I’m here. I’m here. You believed it, because you knew yourself. Keeping away this long, because you knew that once you were with him, you wouldn’t be leaving.

You hoped Bucky believed it, too. You’d tell him over and over, just in case.

The moment was short lived, though, coming to an end the when Sam knocks on the door. You pry yourself apart from him like a band-aid, and the door opens, leaving you and Bucky to compartmentalize and get ready for the next steps in your mission with your backs turned to each other.

“You guys good?” Sam asked, looking from you to Bucky, and you groaned internally at the sight of the slight curl at the corner of his mouth.

It’s not like that, Sam.

“Yeah. Are you?”

He quirks his brow. You quirk yours. His smirk is more out in the open, now.

“C’mon, old guard, we have a funeral to attend.”

You and Bucky shoot him a double glare and follow him back to the living room, then out to the cobblestone streets. Sam specifically said no weapons, no doubt intending to keep things civil, but you strapped a knife to your boot anyway.

Bucky smirked at you when he caught you red handed and showed you the handle of his own knife secured at his hip. It’s funny, how among so many things that haven’t changed at all, remaining intact as if eternized in marble, so many other things did.

It’s the caution. Having a plan B, C, D, up to plan Z. It’s knowing every possible exit points when you enter a room, and it’s strapping a knife to your body even if you’re going on a mission of peace.

You wanted to think that the years made to fade most of your scars, but the smallest things reminded you that faded didn’t mean gone. The weight of the blade on your left foot was doing that, as you walked through the streets of Riga beside Bucky, Sam and Zemo.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.”

John Walker and Lemar Hoskins jogged down the steps in your direction. Bucky opened his arms in irritation.

“Ah! How’d you find us now?”

It wasn’t really a question.

“Come on. You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Hoskins questioned rhetorically back, and his eyes land on you. You raised your eyebrows at him. “Y/L/N.” He didn’t sound terribly surprised.

“No more keeping us in the dark. You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” Walker’s voice nearly overlapped Hoskins’, and his eyes traveled from Zemo to you.

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky quipped, and shifted to your side slightly.

“I thought you were on vacation.” Walker sneered, making you shrug. You waved idly at the buildings.

“What? I’m sightseeing.”

“Oh, this better have an unbelievable explanation—” He raised his arms, taking a couple steps in your direction, but you didn’t budge.

You were resigned to simply rest your hands at your hips and wait for his temper tantrum to be over, but Sam clapped him on the chest and commanded him to not make things weird. Walker simmered down enough, which makes you beam proudly at Sam.

“I know where Karli is.”

You’d never be caught dead saying that out loud, but thank heavens for Zemo.

The new Captain America insisted on leading the action and turning it into a hostile one. You couldn’t stop staring at the shield on his back while he strutted ahead and turned, arguing with Sam about whether or not attempting to reason with Morgenthau was a good idea. She was indeed dangerous, but the echo of Sam saying that she was only a child earlier filled your ears.

It was risky, but Sam wasn’t reckless. You believed in him wholly.

“Is that why you roped a diplomat into this? There’s still time to change sides and save your job, Y/L/N.”

You didn’t doubt John Walker could and would get you to lose your job position, but you were aware of that possible outcome the minute you flew yourself to Latvia. That was the kind of inconvenience your future self would have to deal with. Sam looked at you for a brief second, forehead creasing with worry.

“Don’t threaten her, Walker.” Bucky warned him, and it was like you were fighting off a gang of bullies in an alleyway back home again.

“You’ll let him do this? Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier, alone?” Walker pressed on, holding Bucky’s stare.

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.”

You highly doubted that. These men were as hard-headed as you were, but you didn’t buy into the whole we-aren’t-friends thing. It was evident, in the way they checked on each other from time to time, and had each other’s backs.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.” Sam stepped forward, and Walker was quick to resume the argument. He was desperate for a win, any win, and you caught yourself wondering if he was truly ready for the role he was given.

Hoskins seemed to be the voice of reason he lacked. Walker gave in, reluctantly, and motioned at Zemo.

“We’ll deal with you later.”

You tapped your feet impatiently.

“Boys, there’s no time for this.”

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.”

There was a small girl waiting by the building in front of you. She guided the group to an abandoned factory of some sort, and Zemo announced that Karli was inside, and not long after he was being handcuffed to an iron vault door.

Sam stopped himself in his tracks while Walker manhandles the man, and you and him shared a look.

“You wanna come with?”

“No. It’s two against one, might set her off.” You shook your head, turning to look at Walker as he paced around. “You got this, Sam.”

Sam nodded at you and went in.

Ten minutes. You listened attentively for any signs of struggle, hoping things would go smoothly. Your knife felt heavy inside your shoe. Bucky seemed to be focused on the same task next to you.

John Walker grew more anxious by the minute, and you stopped listening to watch him pace around.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Bucky sighed.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

Rich, coming from him, who seemed keen on doing just that to everyone else. Walker squared his shoulders and marched on, Bucky having to stand on his way to stop him. You got off your post on the stairs and blocked the rest of the way. Walker glared at you, then at him.

“This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.”

Of course, he would consider the serum more of a blessing than the true curse it was. You exhaled sharply, struggling to keep your emotions in check, watching Bucky’s back as Walker continued.

“Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

You could almost see Bucky’s resolve wavering.

“Bucky, don’t.”

“You really want a casualty that big, Ambassador?”

“You need to cool down, Walker. Sam is—”

You didn’t get to finish, because Walker is barreling his way through you and towards Karli Morgenthau. Hoskins is pushing you and Bucky back as you try to get to Sam and the girl before things blew up even further.

“Walker you can’t—”

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest.”

Karli knocks Walker down, and Bucky managed to shove Hoskins away to run after her.

“Y/N, ten minutes!” Sam said as the both of you ran off to join the pursuit.

“I know, Sam! There’s no reasoning with this guy!” You groaned. “I’ll go this way, cover more ground.”

Sam nodded, his concerned expression mirroring yours.

You split up as you take off to your right, passing through archways and enclosed cubbyholes, finding nothing but old industrial machinery and junk.

Gunshots.

You counted four, at least.

You managed to pick up the source of the sound after the third discharge, somewhere at the lower level of the building. It would take you forever to find your way down the traditional way.

You landed on the ground floor with a soft thud, and couldn’t help but grin as you look up at the window you had just jumped from. Not bad, though the impact was unexpected and almost knocked the wind out of you.

The sound of smashed glass prompted you to snap back to reality and run into the basement of the factory, the place holding massive iron pipes and boilers. Zemo had his back to you, gun in hand.

A flash of red curly hair poked from behind the last pipe. You tiptoed your way to Karli, crouching next to her. She was clutching her side, blood seeping through her fingers. The receiving end of the shots.

Karli looked at you with terrified eyes, then up, and your gaze followed hers to a man you didn’t recognize, but one of her friends without doubt.

“Get out of here, kid. Go.”

She wasted no time, clambering up the stairs and disappearing through a metal door.

Faster than you and Zemo could acknowledge each other’s actions, he was hit on the heat with flying metal, sending him unconscious to the floor. John Walker stepped into the light.

“Morgenthau?”

“Gone. I was too late.”

Walker appeared to believe you, or he didn’t care, eyeing with interest the shards of fine glass littered on the floor. Zemo had smashed every single vial of serum before being hit with the shield. You kneel next to him and check his pulse.

“Is he…?”

“No. Just out.” You breathed. Walker let out a disappointed hum, leaving you to attempt to waken Zemo by yourself.

Bucky and Sam entered through the door that Karli had escaped through, and Hoskins through the doorway you came in before.

“What did we miss?”

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach​

Chapter 9: 14 Men (5)

      After she sat down and Jamie poured everyone a glass of water, Ferdinand Groide began:

        "Mrs. Beauchamp, Jamie, Mr. Fraser, told me that your husband is Dr. Frank Randall. Is that correct?"

(...)

        "As you may also know, I have left my husband. Our marriage had been on paper only for several years. I intend to ask for a divorce, if that's possible from here. But I still have to care about this man's life. I'm a doctor, I took an oath. If I reveal the secrets I have learned... what will you do to him?"

        "What do you mean? What are we going to do with him?"

        "Will you hurt him? I mean, will you let someone hurt him?"

        Ferdinand Groide and Jamie looked at each other in amazement.

        "Mrs. Beauchamp, we're not the Mafia. We don't hire hit men."

        "But you're in Intelligence, Mr. Groide."

        Claire said that sentence with the same calm and objectivity as if she was saying to Jenny:

        "If you put one more egg in the batter, it gets better."

        "And intelligence agencies do these things," she added to her statement with the same objectivity.

        "Well, maybe the CIA or the KGB. Let me answer you this way: In my opinion, a living Frank Randall is far more interesting and valuable to a secret service than a dead Frank Randall."

        "In other words, you guarantee me that the information I give you will not endanger his life."

        Groide and Jamie looked at each other again.

        "Promise me."

        It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a demand, and the words Claire used to make that demand left none of the men unaware that there was no alternative to this bargain for them.

        Groide struck the hand Claire held out to him.

        "You have my word, Mrs. Beauchamp. You don't know me yet and you probably mistrust me. That's only natural. But Jamie, Mr. Fraser, can assure you that I'm a man of my word."

        Claire looked over at Jamie. He nodded.

        "Done."

        She reached for the glass of water that Jamie had put in her hand and emptied it in one gulp.

        Then she began to talk.

"Microphone" by Florian-Media

        "It was in the year 2015, in late November 2015 to be exact."

        "Excuse me, Mrs. Beauchamp," Groide objected, "but we ought to do this properly."

        He removed from his briefcase a device whose rectangular clunkness was reminiscent of an early mobile phone. After placing it in the center of the table, he inserted two small, round microphones attached to longer cables, one pointing at Claire and one pointing at himself. Groide pressed the record button, then he gave the date, time, place, names of those present and, as the reason for the recording, ‘Statement by Dr. Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp’.

        Jamie had to smile. Ferdinand was a friendly person, but he was also a German bureaucrat. Everything had to follow the specific order and everything had to be done 'by the book'. Those Germans. They had rules for everything. They couldn't just have a conversation like that, it had to be a 'statement' and of course it had to be 'recorded'. In this country everything was recorded, either on paper or on tape. And then everything was filed, paginated, numbered and archived. Nothing was lost. They were so damn meticulous, these Germans, but also so damn effective.

        "Please begin with your personal life, Mrs. Beauchamp. Name, birthday, place of birth, family, etc."

        "My name is Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I was born in London on October 20, 1993, the only child of Julia, née Moriston, and Henry Montmorency Beauchamp. My mother was a primary school teacher, my father worked as a statistician for an insurance company. In the winter of 1998 my parents were killed in a car accident. My uncle, Lambert Quentin Beauchamp, was appointed by the authorities as my foster father and guardian. He was my only living relative, my father's only brother. Due to the activities of my uncle, who was an egyptologist and archaeologist, I grew up in England for only a short time, the rest of the time we spend abroad. When I was 16 years old, my uncle returned to England permanently and accepted a professorship at Oxford University. Shortly afterwards I began training as a nurse. Also in Oxford. At the age of 19, I had just completed my education, I met my future husband Franklin Wolverton Randall through my uncle. He also worked in the history department and specialised in Scottish history. At times he worked as an assistant to a professor. We married the following year. My uncle died only a few months later. His health had unfortunately not been the best at the end of his life. When my husband was called to Harvard University's history department, we moved to Boston.

"Oxford" by MarlonRondal        

         Groide nodded. Jamie was sure that nothing Claire had told him so far was new to his friend. Guaranteed, they had checked Claire from the day he requested the visa for her passport. And they had certainly not been idle since then. At "In Vino Veritas" there was a small but very effective group of staff who had certainly dug up everything they could find about the young woman in the past few days.

         "When and how did you learn of your husband's secret activities?"        

         "It was in the year 2015, in late November of that year to be exact. Does the name Jonathan Pollard mean anything to you?"        

         Jamie listened with new interest. Groide just nodded.        

         "Then you know that this man has served thirty years in the United States for espionage. In 2015 he was released on parole and in the American media there was a lot of coverage and discussion for days. I had never heard this man's name before and, to be honest, I didn't care about the whole thing. However, I listened up when my husband spoke about it. It was a Sunday, two days after Pollard was released. I remember the whole thing so well because that day was the day of the terrible accident in that jademine in Myanmar, where 90 people were killed and over 100 people were missing. We had had dinner and then Frank turned on the TV. There was a talk show where the case was discussed. My husband had already started drinking in the afternoon. While Frank was watching the talk show, I thought, ‘My goodness, they're talking about an age-old espionage case and people are dying elsewhere without the media even paying attention.’"        

         Claire reached for her glass, which Jamie had refilled in the meantime, and took a big sip.        

         "I didn't pay much attention to the discussion on TV. But then suddenly Frank started mumbling loudly:       

          'Spy! Spy! Spy! Nonsense! The man was an amateur! What real spy leaves secret documents openly on his desk in the office and his wife was stupid enough to leave a suitcase with secret documents with a neighbour who was in the military himself!’”

        Claire reached for her glass again and drank.        

         "What he said made me furious, so I said to him: 'Oh yes, but you know how a real spy behaves!’ I thought his reaction was terribly arrogant. To my surprise, he then turned down the TV. He came over and sat down with me on the sofa. He looked me in the eyes and grinned. Then he said, ‘Yes, my darling, I know that. The MI5 recruited and trained me while I was still studying at Oxford. Right after they heard I was going to specialise in Scottish history. With my family background and the good connections we had in the military and police through my cousin Jonathan, there were no obstacles.’”

"Books" by MichaelGaida        

         "How did you react to that?"        

         "Well, at first I was stumped. I thought he was just showing-off again. So I replied, ‘Why would the MI5 need an expert in Scottish history?’ He replied, ‘Well, of course you can't imagine, you little fool. Good God, Claire! The Scots want independence and just because last year's referendum went so well, they will not give up. It's their history they're drawing strength from! What do you think will happen if they really gain their independence? It could set off a chain reaction. You know that Prime Minister Cameron announced two years ago that he would hold a referendum on Britain's withdrawal from the EU if he was re-elected in 2015? So? He has been re-elected! Now there must be a referendum. And what if Britain's withdrawal from the EU is carried out but Scotland becomes independent and is then admitted to the EU as a member? Did you ever think about that? This is going to get us in big trouble! Then the EU will continue to stand with two legs on our island! We can't let that happen.’”

         Claire paused for a moment, then she went on:                  "I must have looked at him in wonder and disbelief, because suddenly he stormed out of the living room. I heard him looking for something in his study. When he came back he had a newspaper article in his hand which he held in front of my face. ‘Read it,’ he said to me. ‘Our government takes this danger seriously... and so should you!‘          I took the article and read. It was an article in the International Business Times in July 2015. It reported that the Prime Minister had met with the CEOs of a media company. The purpose of the meeting was allegedly to prevent the broadcast of a TV series about the Scottish Rebellion of 1746 before the referendum on Scottish independence. It seems that a request has been made to postpone the broadcast. I later found on his desk a copy of an article from ‘The Scotsman’, which also covered the subject in detail.”                  Groide and Jamie looked at each other and smiled. Both men nodded, but said nothing.        

         "Frankly," Claire continued, "I hadn't given the matter any thought at all. In the five years before, I had been mainly busy finishing my medical studies and gaining experience as a doctor. You don't have much time to worry about other things. Besides, due to my, well, somewhat non-conformist upbringing, I was never so much confined to one country alone ..."        

         "How is it that despite medical school, your husband still refers to you as..." Groide is looking for words, "intellectually... weaker...?”          "Frank believes that medical school would consist largely of memorizing the contents of textbooks. He thought that people's bodies were somehow all the same and that if you had learned the appropriate forms of treatment, then you could treat them. He never understood the diversity and complexity of the human body and how medical science reacts to it."                   "Did your husband explain his duties for the MI5 to you?"          "When I told him that Scotland's history, and Scotland's ambitions for independence, were well known, he told me not to think so superficially. He said that historians are not only concerned with the past. They can also make predictions about the future to a certain extent, based on their knowledge. I should think about what the clan system had meant and still means to the Scots. Why did the English central government everything to destroy it after the Jacobite uprising of 1746? England should not allow a united counter-power to be formed again in the north of the country. He was probably particularly concerned about this lobby group, One Banner for all Scots, which had formed the year before."

"Scottish Independence" by Emphyrio         Claire was focused on Ferdinand Groide and the recording equipment in front of her. She didn't see Jamie's face become more and more thoughtful.        

         "Mrs. Beauchamp, all this is interesting, but... not very specific."          "At first, I too got to know only general things. It only became more specific later when I did... well, my own... research.                  "You did your own research?"                  Groide suddenly seemed interested again. Jamie tried not to smile. What seemed like a minor revelation to his friend only confirmed what he had been thinking all along. Claire was an intelligent, strong woman. Her strength might have been broken for a time by what her husband had done to her. But Jamie was sure that she would find her way back to that strength. And he vowed to himself that he would do everything he could to help her.          "I thought Frank was a braggart for a long time, but... I can't describe it exactly. Something had caught my interest. Then a colleague asked me if I would trade a weekly shift with her. She would have had a night shift, but her babysitter was unavailable. I agreed and that same afternoon I went to the university library and borrowed books on Scottish history and the independence movement. The department where I was on night duty was not very labour-intensive. I had a lot of time to read and think during the nights of that week."          She paused for a moment.          "After that week, I became aware of the urgency of the issue."          Groide didn't say anything, but his gaze urged her to continue.          "National self-determination. Well, there's no need to explain that further. Scotland's oil. 64% of Europe's oil reserves are on Scottish territory. They're said to be worth 4 trillion pounds. Then there is the issue of renewable energy. I mean Scotland has 25 % of Europe's wind energy potential, 25 % of Europe's tidal energy potential and 10 % of Europe's wave energy potential. I do not have to tell you that these are also enormous financial potentials."          A fine smile appeared on Groide's face.          "And then, of course, there is the question of nuclear disarmament: with control of defence and foreign policy, an independent Scotland could tackle the elimination of Trident nuclear weapons, an issue long associated with the campaign for an independent Scotland. Trident class submarines carrying missiles with 120 nuclear warheads are based at the Clyde naval base near Glasgow. In the event of Scottish independence, England would have to withdraw these weapons and revise its defence strategy. I imagine that would be a thorn in the side of the American allies as well. There will certainly be a lot of diplomatic pressure behind the scenes."          Claire took a deep breath.          "Now you're going to tell me that this is all public information and I would agree with you. But I wasn't aware of it before. These informations woke me up. It took a while but when I had the opportunity to take on another week of night shifts I immediately agreed. In this time I developed a kind of plan. I was eager to find out if Frank's statement was true. At first I tried to track when he was going to conferences or work meetings. Not all of them, but several of them took him to England and Scotland. I can't prove it, but I had the impression that his travels became more frequent at times when 'the Scottish theme' was boiling up. Later, after 2015, and particularly after the brexite, his travels intensified.”          To Jamie's surprise, Claire reached into her handbag, which she had hung on the back of her chair, and pulled out a piece of paper she handed over to Ferdinand Groide.

"Tea" by Pexels          "This is a list of all the trips my husband has taken since 2013. supposedly for reasons of his work as a historian."          Groide skimmed the list, then put it aside.          "Thank you very much. We will try to verify the data."          "In the weeks that followed, I voluntarily took several weeks of night duty. Because there was another advantage to this. I was at home while my husband was at university and could look through his records almost undisturbed."        

         "Will you share the knowledge you have gained from this?"          "Yes. But perhaps we could have some tea?" Claire replied as she looked at Jamie.          "Certainly."          He got up and left the room. Ferdinand Groide pressed the 'stop' button on the recorder. Then he got up and stretched a bit. Claire did the same.

[writingithink]

The Doctor’s Domestic Nightmare Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: G Wordcount: 2,542 Summary: They visit Jackie to do some Earth-wedding planning. Notes: This is for Day 5 of @timepetalsweek ! I used two of the prompts, the picture prompt and 'family'. A fair amount of the other fics in this series get referenced in this one, but I still don't think you'd be lost if you haven't read them. Extra special thanks to @hey-there-juliet , the best beta ever <3 All mistakes are mine. I own nothing.

READ IT ON AO3 -> copy/paste link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478851

The Doctor landed the TARDIS outside the flat this time. Anything he could do to make this whole thing go easier (and hopefully quicker).

“How long are we staying?” He turned toward Rose, who was still sitting on the jumpseat, doing something on her phone.

“Thought we might stay the night,” she slowly replied, attention obviously otherwise involved. “Mum’s been lonely.”

“What are you doing?”

Normally she was out of the ship in a heartbeat when they landed at the Estates. This time she didn’t look like she’d be moving anytime soon. Their bond wasn’t providing him with anything useful, just a mix of concentration, mild frustration, and sympathy. They had agreed to both put their barriers up decently high shortly after she woke up, when they started to create a stress feedback-loop in each other's heads. He sat down next to her and leaned over her shoulder to see that she was texting Jackie.

“You know, you can talk to her in person right outside these doors,” the Doctor felt the need to point out.

“No, no, however my phone works now, the sonic or the TARDIS or whatever, it, like- it blocked my texts until I woke up this mornin’. But if you look at the little time stamps, it’s sendin’ my replies as if I didn’t wait a month to answer. I’m texting my mum three days ago,” Rose explained.

“Oh. Huh. Must be the TARDIS. Have you been doing this all morning?”

“Yeah. The first text came through as being from about, I dunno … an hour after we left last time?”

“Well, knowing your mother, she’ll be outside the door any minute. Doubt you’ll have time to finish the week,” he admitted with a frown. The Doctor hoped that all of the guilt he was feeling at keeping the two of them apart was safely behind the walls he’d erected in his mind. Of course, traveling, being away from her mother, that was Rose’s decision (and one that he was immensely, immensely glad for).

But still.

He and Rose had talked, back when they were at the Olympics, after the Isolus. About things, family things, Gallifrey things that he didn’t want to talk about. Thankfully, with the bond, he was able to show her more than tell her, because the words wouldn’t come half the time - a real shock, with his gob. And he’d admitted to her how much he wished things had been different with his children. That he’d been more like them, or they’d been more like him - but they had taken after their mother, who was a very respectable Time Lady, and fit right in. Whereas he never had. Things had brightened up a little when he told her about Susan, but overall the whole thing had made them both very sad, very ill timed conversation to have on a honeymoon.

And now he felt guilty, much more so than usual, at the thought of Jackie being lonely while they gallivanted about time and space.

“I need to change,” Rose announced, jostling him as she stood and bringing him back to the present.

“What?”

“She’s made some appointments at some very nice places and I have to change. Ahh, I don’t even know what to wear!” she exclaimed, quickly exiting the console room but pausing at the entrance to the main corridor. “If mum shows up, can you stall her?”

“ What?!”

But his wife was gone, apparently off to change out of her jeans and hoodie. The Doctor sighed, circling the console, mentally calculating what repairs he might be able to make some progress on in the time that he would be waiting on her. It really was a shame that humans tended not to pick an outfit and stick to it - things would be so much simpler. Not that he didn’t enjoy all the fun, different things Rose wore. And she did seem to really enjoy dressing up for all of the different places they went to.

Just as he was considering perhaps changing his tie, knocking started up on the TARDIS door.

Oh, bloody hell.

He flinched, expecting a mental zap, but it never came. Right, they were blocking most things out. Ehh … 

The benefits of mental privacy - today, at least. Well, it was obviously necessary but he really didn’t like it. What did it say about him that he preferred to be telepathically reprimanded than to not be telepathically noticed at all?

Probably nothing good.

The Doctor shook his head as the knocking continued, and then jogged down the ramp, grabbing his coat as he went. He opened the door just wide enough to slip out, slamming it closed with his back as soon as he’d cleared it.

“Hello, Jackie!” he greeted his mother-in-law with a wide grin.

“Doctor,” she responded, crossing her arms. Ohh, and he’d been hoping she would have warmed back up after last time. Then again, what had been a month and a half for them had only been a week for her. “Where’s Rose?”

“She’s still getting ready. I never can tell how long it’s going to take her, so I may have landed us a bit, er, prematurely.”

“You’re not lyin’, are ya? She’s not in there sick, or injured, or- or-“

“No no no no no,” he quickly interrupted, waving his hands about, “I would never lie to you about something like that! Rose is fine. She’s just- just- picking an outfit or doing her hair or something.”

“Alright then,” Jackie said, finally seeming to relax … a bit. “Maybe I can give her a hand.”

The Doctor knocked her arm away as she reached for the door, and that was quite rude, wasn’t it? Definitely not doing anything to get back into her good graces, but if Rose was still texting and Jackie had her mobile on her, he wasn’t sure it would still work if her mum entered the TARDIS.

“If you go in, it’ll take even longer!” he insisted, not knowing if that was necessarily true but assuming it was. Jackie had never been in the wardrobe room, so he could only imagine. “Why don’t we head inside? Otherwise we might be standing outside the TARDIS for ages.”

“ You want to sit around the flat with me, no Rose?” She seemed skeptical, and he really couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah! Of course!” The Doctor pasted on what he hoped was a winning smile.

The things he did for his wife.

“Riiiight. Okay, then. Fine. She better be quick about it, though, otherwise we’ll be late. You shoulda waited for her to land that box of yours,” she scolded him as they headed up to the flat. He took the time to really look at her, and realized that Jackie actually looked quite nice today, for once not wearing one of her velour tracksuits.

It was too bad he couldn’t tell her that of course he’d waited for Rose before landing.

“Won’t happen again,” he said instead, hoping that was true.

They entered the flat and the Doctor was sincerely at a loss as to how to proceed. He projected everything that had happened to Rose, just getting an ‘okay’ in response. Her mental presence was frenzied, and he wished he knew how to be more helpful. The fact was, he had wandered into something very human that he had never thought that he’d ever be a part of.

“So, how’s it been?” Jackie called out from the kitchen.

“Hmm?” He wandered into the room to see her moving about, fixing tea.

“I said, how’s it been, the two of you. With your first week or however long it’s been for ya, dating.”

“ Dating?!” the Doctor repeated, and now she was facing him, looking at him like he was an idiot for some reason, but excuse her, what?!

“My daughter?”

“No, I know your daughter, but we’re not dating! We’re married!”

“Right, sure, so you’ve been sayin’, but the fact is you two weren’t even properly together before your alien voodoo ended up accidentally getting you hitched. You can’t go from nothin’ to married like that, relationship-wise, no matter what ya got goin’ on with your shared brain whatever you call it.”

What?

“Bond,” he found himself mumbling, “it’s called a bond.”

“Though if you ask me, you two did go on about like you were together, even if Rose was constantly denying it. I’m not blind, y’know. And it wasn’t just me, either. Ask anyone around here, watchin’ you too making doe eyes at each other.”

“ Doe eyes?! I don’t make doe eyes,” the Doctor denied, though he still was trying to process the whole beginning of her speech. “Wait, did you say alien voodoo?!”

His words fell on deaf ears.

“And don’t get me started on the constant touching. The both of you had to realize that normal friends, platonic friends, don’t carry on like that, clingin’ to each other.”

“Clinging?” He didn’t even have it in him to scoff anymore. This was exhausting. Jackie pushed past him, handing him a cup of tea as she went. “Erm, thank you.”

“Use a coaster,” she told him, pointing at the couch.

Forget the beast in the pit, this was hell.

“Right, yes, of course,” he nodded, quickly sitting down and placing his mug on a coaster as ordered. Ugh.

Still, it was better than the interrogation she’d given him the last time they’d been here. And at least this time Jackie didn’t seem to expect him to say anything at all. Though she had asked him a question. And people called him rude!

His mother-in-law took a seat in the chair with her own mug, giving him the same skeptical look that she had after catching him modifying her toaster. Thankfully, before she could start up again the door opened and Rose walked in.

And she was breathless, panting, having obviously ran all the way from the TARDIS.

And from what little he could get from her over the bond he could tell that she was incredibly stressed and anxious.

But she looked gorgeous.

Her hair was done in soft curls, and she had on a TARDIS blue dress and the same little pink heels she’d worn when they’d failed to see Elvis. He really needed to get back around to that. Might not have time until their second honeymoon, though. Too many different plans. The Doctor couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Mum!” she exclaimed, immediately wrapping Jackie in a hug.

“Finally! Thought we’d miss our first appointment! I told him, wait ’til you’re done before gettin’ you here, especially if he’s going to cut it so close. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t pass his test, you know, the way he lands willy nilly, and a year late, don’t think I’ll forget that! Who in their right mind woulda given him a time machine if they knew he’d be carryin’ on like that,” Jackie nattered on.

Not a word, he bit out to Rose across the bond and was actually quite pleased with the resulting mental laughter (despite the fact that it had really been a dire warning).

“Sorry for takin’ so long. I think we should still be fine. We’re getting a cab, right?” Rose asked, and they both began heading right back out of the flat.

The Doctor picked up his tea, blew on it, and put his legs up on the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?” Jackie asked him, holding the door open. “Shake a leg!”

“What?”

“You’re coming with us!”

He looked at Rose, who mouthed ‘sorry’, pointed at her phone and shrugged before remembering that they could speak telepathically.

Mum never said she expected you to come with us until the texts from yesterday, she explained, and I was in such a rush to get here by the time I got those ones that it slipped my mind to tell ya.

“Oh … right,” he tried to cover, “I just … thought we were having tea. And you know how great I think your tea is, Jackie. Saved the world, your tea did. Well, helped my regeneration sickness, which amounts to the same thing in that situation. Free radicals and tannins, have I properly explained the benefits to you? You see-”

“Wait a minute!” Jackie interrupted him, staring at Rose’s hands for some reason. “Where’s your ring?!”

Ring? Ring. Oh bloody, fucking hell.

“Oh, we haven’t-”

Her mother didn’t even give Rose a chance to speak. “We’re to go to all of these places, wedding planning, and he didn’t even have the decency to get you an engagement ring?!”

Exchanging rings. He knew that one! It was a human marriage custom so pervasive that it remained a part of their wedding ceremonies throughout time and space. And he’d forgotten.

“We just haven’t had a chance to go looking yet, that’s all,” Rose lied. “If anyone asks, we’ll just say it’s off gettin’ sized.”

Jackie huffed before stomping out of the flat, his wife trailing behind. The Doctor sat for another moment, positively baffled at how this day was going, then bounded out of the flat after them. When he caught up to Rose, he took her hand and pulled her to a stop.

“I’m so sorry,” he told her, and really, he didn’t even know where to start.

“Doctor, it’s fine, I don’t care about rings and stuff.”

“Not just that, though. But still, that too! I’m sorry for- for not doing this properly, not dating you, jumping straight into everything. I waited too long to tell you how I felt, and now I’m completely rubbish at doing all of these human courtship and marriage things, and you deserve-”

“Doctor,” Rose interrupted him, putting a hand over his mouth. “Y’need to stop listening to my mum. We’re fine. We were fine before you left the TARDIS, and we’re still fine. Better than fine, even. We’re fantastic. And let’s get this straight now, I’m the one who gets to decide what I deserve.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, words muffled by the hand she still hadn’t moved.

You, she declared over their bond, barriers dropped so that a tidal wave of love and affection poured into him.

And then he effortlessly nudged her hand out of the way, pulled her even closer, and kissed her.

The Universe was not kind. It owed him nothing. If anything, he owed it. Because it gave him her.

The hand not clutching her lower back tangled into her hair as he deepened the kiss, his own barriers crumbling as he tried to express everything he was feeling in that moment. Her arms wrapped around his neck and it was perfect. Everything was perfect, and the Doctor had no idea why he’d ever thought otherwise.

“OI!!”

They sprang apart as if a bucket of water had been poured over them.

“None of that!” Jackie yelled from across the way. “Get a move on! I swear, this is gonna be worse than all of the lovesick mooning.”

He was mortified.

Rose’s barriers had already locked back into place, her face red.

Tell your mum I’m off to get your ring, he projected before running back to the TARDIS as fast as he possibly could.

[disastrousjest]

Confessions of 2020..

(tw: covid mention, mental health mention)

I wanted to post a little something that might put out some insight for my followers, friends, mutuals alike. With the recent battle I had with some personal blogs attacking me over some posts I made because of the images, regardless of the purpose of the post. I just wanted to let everyone aware of why that sent me over the edge and why I handled it the way I did. Please note: I will not be apologizing for what I said, I do feel as though those that tried to reach out to me did not realize the purpose of the post. And while I understand now I should just tag things like that differently, I will not be apologizing for stating the fact that this is a rp  blog and I do not appreciate personal blogs attacking me over something like that. That being said, I will not be bullied off tumblr or this account. Because I love JJBA and Joseph Joestar. So for future reference, if you don’t like my content, unfollow it. Don’t bother sending me nasty remarks because I do not have the time for those types of things.  But I wanted to open the doorway to some insight for you all who have been paying attention or who just might care to know why I came off so incredibly outraged by that little bit. Because to me it was just the topping of a whole bunch of bullshit as is 2020.  This whole shithole of a year began in March. I got promoted at work to salary. That’s 35k a year my friends and that’s a hell of an upgrade for someone who barely makes a living wage right now and came from a working poor family. I really thought my life was gonna turn around. For once my fiance and I wouldn’t have to struggle so hard and we could afford to do everything we talked about doing. Well guess what--2 weeks after the announcement of my promotion my work place shut down because of Covid-19. Nothing new, lots of people and places were shut down. So fine, it pushed back my transfer and such. That wasn’t a big deal.  Enter June 2020. We re-open and my manager calls me into his office to talk to him about said mentioned promotion. They are suspending it, means it could be pushed back until we could lift the restrictions. Understandably so, I would just have to keep my old position, an hourly one, until they were called back. Now the months pass, June becomes July and enter August.  I find out about a week before the company announces it at the start of August, the position I was promoted to has been eliminated indefinitely. There is a chance they could come back, but right now they have no idea when or if that’ll happen. Which means that whole part of my department no longer exists at my place of work. I mean it’s a good thing I had my hourly position to fall back into or I’d lost my job. But that salary raise? Gone. 

Rewind back to July. I get very very VERY sick. And have to test for covid-19 the first time. Only because I am so sick and have a roommate with asthma I have to quarantine myself for 14 days. So 14 days I am locked in my bedroom alone, sleeping alone after 3 years of being with someone in bed. My meals are being left at the door for me and the only room I am allowed to enter is the bathroom, but only after it has been sanitized. Only for my results to come back negative. And now... we enter September 2020. Two major things started in September. The first, our old, senior dog became very ill. Started losing weight, wasn’t eating, losing hair, etc. So we knew his time was coming soon enough. Mid-September, I wake up one morning while our dog is dying mind you, and I cannot move my body from the waist down. Every time I tried, I’m greeted with a shot of pain straight up my spine that feels something like a hot poker being stabbed right through my spinal cord. Very very painful. I end up bed-ridden for a day or two because I cannot move. So once the pain subsides, I go see a chiropractor. Shocking (not really) announcement that my sway back--to which I was diagnosed with 10 years prior from a bad car accident--has gotten worse. What does  that mean exactly? Well--my spine bends in like a S for those who don’t know, which means my lower back dips inward deeper inside my body and my tail bone curves out. Now along that dip there are 3 or 4 vertebrae that are especially messed up. The bones have become staggered out of place on top of one another, just from the muscles pulling the bones out of shape since my spine doesn’t flex the way it’s supposed to anymore. (And it hasn’t for years). The pain before this was tolerable, it would ache from time to time but never like this. Now I am crippled more or less.  Here’s what that means: my mobility became extremely limited. At first in the am when I woke up I couldn’t move from the waist down for the first hour or two after I woke up. Then when I was finally able to move, I had to use my forearms to literally drag my lower body upright (still painful). Once I was able to manage that, I had to gage how strong my legs were to support my weight. And at first walking wasn’t terrible, but as the treatments began--doctor appointments, spinal adjustments, and physical therapy--to correct my spinal issue, nerve damage became clear. So now on top of this horrible pain, I had to deal with weak legs. Because of nerve damage, my right leg especially became weak. On days my back would hurt especially bad, my right knee would collapse out from under me. Which meant falling to the ground and not being able to stand up or walk for sometime there after.  Now imagine dealing with not being able to support your own body, not being able to hardly walk and your dog dying at the same time. So while I”m trying not to focus on the fact that my mobility is limiting me on what I can and can’t do, my fiance is upset about this. Our dog (then weighed about 100 or more pounds) could no longer walk either. His back legs and hips were giving out as his health declined. I did not have the strength in my own legs to help carry him because his weight hurt me too much and would cause me to collapse. I had to watch my fiance struggle with this practically all by herself while I sat on the floor, only able to use my arms to help with what I could because my legs and back were too weak to do the work.  This carried on into October. Our dog passes away and that alone is hard for me. I still kind of wonder if I wasn’t so weak when he got sick if I could have helped prolong his life just a little longer. I couldn’t hardly look at him when he passed and I couldn’t look at anyone else. I was very angry that my legs and back had failed me. They had failed everyone. So yes, that weight still lingers over me. It was so bad that when it came time to take turns digging his grave, I struggled with the shovel. Because I couldn’t stand up or be bent over to move the dirt, I got on my hands and knees and I took that shovel in my hands and used my arms and shoulders to dig. I wasn’t going to continue to be useless because of my limited mobility. I felt I already let him down and everyone else by not being able to help take care of him while he was still alive and sick. This was the least I could do.  November comes. Things are calm now, for a while. Not bad. I finally get some braces to help with my back issues (which still continue). I keep on with my physical therapy, trying to heal and help my fiance through her mourning over the dog. My mobility slowly begins to improve, though the doctor informs me it will be a very slow process. Small steps he says. But he is still confident he can fix my spine without back surgery so I can walk again, like a regular person. The limit I am able to stand and walk increases with the help of my braces and I begin taking herbal supplements and drinking herbal teas to increase the rate of my recovery. It seems to be working better than over the counter medication. The rest of 2020 seems promising.  Here comes December. On the night my fiance and I decide to go out on a date to celebrate our 5 years together. I get a phone call from work. One of my co-workers tested positive for Covid-19 and I was exposed. I am now suspended from work without pay until my test results come back negative. A real mood killer for the night. It gets better, we get home and despite the dinner being pretty somber the rest of the night seems fine. We watch movies and spend time together, finish wrapping gifts for Christmas. Then we realize the cat is missing. He’s been missing all day and all night. Nobody has seen him.  Two days prior, I had taken my cat to the vet because he was sick. Again, weight loss, losing hair, etc. I was worried he may be sick. Well it’s cold outside and here it’s been snowing so it’s very cold. I set something of mine outside and a literbox for smell. And then a plate of food. ....that was almost 4 days ago. There’s been not a sign of him. I called the county shelter and they didn’t have him. My fiance suggests he was sick so... maybe he got out of the house and went somewhere to die. My gut tells me he’s not coming back. And my heart is breaking, again. Again. I am wondering if I did something wrong. If I would have kept a better eye on him, I knew he wasn’t  feeling right. I somehow feel like I let him down.  And  then I logged into tumblr and saw those comments. Those asks people were sending about the damn images I posted for the 12 days to Christmas. And they just kept coming. I deleted the other ones, I stopped replying to them and finally just deleted the post. The Christmas spirit had been sucked out of me. I feel as though the world has began to mock me for believing the year could get better back in November. I know one thing, the holiday won’t be as bright this year. Not for me. I hope everyone stays safe and has a good holiday. Maybe 2021 will be more promising, but I”m not banking on it. Not anymore. Thanks for reading.  I hope you all understand now why I have been so slow with my replies lately. As my mood goes up and down because I have been struggling with the weight of all this and depression, just trying to hang on from losing hope that for one I will be able to walk again normally and then just the loss of my animals... everything. I can’t write and I refuse to send bad quality responses and starters for you all. I hope this puts some insight  on why I was so horribly upset the other day.   So thank you to all my friends and everyone who has been so patient with me on all my blogs. Jotaro (dmgdstar) and Johnny (rotatingstar) and this one of course. I will be catching up to everything very soon. I’ve already made a good dent in them.  Your patience is always appreciated. 

[prorevenge]

I end up working for the scammer who conned my parents.

So, this tale starts twelve years ago in 2007. Both my parents had retired at the same time and had received a large cash lump sum and would have a decent pension income for the rest of their lives. Dad was ex-Army, doing his national service and staying for another 8 years before travelling the world. He served with the Royal Engineers and moved into an engineering/maintenance role when he returned to the civillian life. Mum was a teacher, and with careful savings and multiple pensions they had more money coming in individually than I did in a salary.

The first thing they did was to renovate their house. They got several quotes for new windows, some minor building work, a new kitchen and a block-paved driveway. I helped them with researching the companies involved and with all the information at hand, they settled on a local company that we'll call Bad Company. Bad Company had membership of all the relevant professional bodies, had some good feedback and importantly was not the cheapest but their sales guy explained to my parents why a cheaper quote wasn't always better. They agreed on the £35k work and paid a 10% deposit. Work started, and they weren't asked for a single penny more until it had been completed. There were a couple of minor snags which were easily corrected, and it went £500 over budget due to the bad drainage of the house (something that had been mentioned before) but it looked satisfactory.

As it turned out, the windows had massive gaps in them that leaked water when it rained and you could actually hear the wind whistling through. Heating became expensive. Within a month, weeds and grass started poking through the block paved driveway and the electical work that was done in the new kitchen caused blown fuses if both ovens and the hob were turned on together. If you touched the plate around the light switch, you'd get an electric shock. After three months, water burst through the newly laid kitchen floor and the "Secured By Design" doors could simply be lifted out of their frame even when locked. We also noticed that they keys to the new doors were not the originals, and they were extremely difficult to lock especially as both parents had arthritis. The icing on the cake was that most of the windows were supposed to be argon filled, but the seals had already blown allowing air inside and condensation on the inside was apparent.

Dad asked a friend, Bob, to estimate the extra cost of fixing it. Bob said that to correct the now evident defects would cost nearly £20k as almost everything would have to be ripped out and re-done. Dad immediately contacted Bad Company, and the guy they sent round was rude, arrogant and blamed everything on the builders who had originally constructed the house doing a bad job. He wrote a report stating that none of the defects were down to the work carried out as the work had been done according to current best practices. That evening, one of the window frames fell out.

Dad spent a month after that trying to get Bad Company back to fix the issues, then he called all the regulatory bodies to find that Bad Company wasn't a member but just used the membership logos on their documentation. Around a year after the work was originally completed, Bad Company simply vanished. Phone numbers were disconnected emails bounced back and their office was now a conservatory showroom. Dad had already paid a well estabished window company £3k to fix the immediate window and door issues, and was left to pay another (much better) company £22k to fix the issues. This time we checked everything and made sure they were registered. We even got a warranty.

Cut to 2018, and I'm looking for a new job. Dad passed away quite unexpectedly in 2015 and Mum wasn't too good either (although she's a lot better now) so I needed a job closer to her house than the 2 hour commute to the next city that I currently had. As luck would have it, a local kitchen manufacturing company (lets call them Local Kitchens) was looking to expand and wanted an IT technician/developer. The pay was about £1k more a year than I was currently making, but I didn't have to spend £500 a month travelling to and from work (busses and trains are expensive). I interviewed, liked what I heard, and was accepted for the role. All the time, I thought that I somehow knew the boss of Local Kitchens.

Having worked in factory environments before, I arrived in a hi-viz vest, toecapped boots and with my own ear defenders. No-one else wore any P.P.E. - not even masks and goggles. When all the machinery ran, the factory floor hummed and buzzed along at a noise level of 105dB, well over the required minimum for wearing ear defenders or plugs. The boss, who we'll call John, also attempted to cut corners everywhere. My workstation was barely powerful enough to run the development software let alone the CAD/CAM software required. When the CPU fan died, he said that he couldn't afford to replace the fan. A new computer keyboard took 3 weeks to arrive and although we were paid on the 28th of each month, the pay was often not in the bank until 9pm, well after he had chased people who owed him money.

There were more lies that I uncovered, and bad business practices. It was like John had read a book on running a business then did the exact opposite. I spent the first six months between designing kitchens - something that I knew nothing about but suddenly fell under the remit of IT technician - maintaining the factory machines, driving the forklift (something that requires a specialist license that I don't hold) and doing IT work on his personal home computer equipment and mobile phones of him, his trophy wife, his kids and his parents. I also wrote several small computer programs, wired up the factory network, ensured that machinery could connect to the office computers and re-wrote most of the configuration for the industry specific software he used - which was not only unlicensed but also used on five separate machines despite the single (lapsed) license.

Also working at the company was Dad's friend Bob. Bob was a decade and a half older than me and had served his time "working the tools" making and fitting kitchens, bedrooms, and had spent a good fifteen years as a shopfitter on some very prestigious contracts. Bob was hired originally to do my job but he moved back to the manufacturing side when the expansion started as it was easier to employ an IT tech than it was a shopfitter. Bob had read an eulogy at Dad's funeral and was often round helping mum with bits around the house, so I knew Bob well and he looked after me at work. We got talking one day and I found out that Bob was earning less than me, even though he had a highly skilled and experienced role, and that despite being given more responsibility, John refused to pay Bob what Bob was worth.

Honestly, if Bob wasn't there, most of the knowledge was lost. Bob and I had frequently told John better ways to do key tasks, but John refused simply because there would be a small cash outlay. I should have seen the writing on the wall at that point, but no.

Running up to Christmas, John tells us all that he's giving us all a bonus, and will pay us early for the christmas to new year shutdown period. We soon discover though that the bonus was a £5 tub of sweets - which Bob can't eat because he has type 1 diabeties, and I can't eat because I have this really strange sugar allergy. I was going to mention it to John, but Bob tells me not to as it's Christmas and it will be something for my kids to enjoy. I actually ended up with three boxes of sweets because he over-ordered.

That day, despite being an IT technician, I had to chase an order with a company, order some materials from a supplier, and supervise a fitter as he attempted to install some new showroom units. John is nowhere to be found until just as we're about to leave. He asked Bob for a moment of his time and I go home.

The next day, Bob tells me that he and John talked until 7pm (an extra 3 hours) about the business. Bob was asked to invest £10k for a quick capital injection as winter is always a bad time for people buying kitchens, so income is slow but there are a number of large orders in the pipeline. Bob told him what he thought of the shady business practices and the poor management, and he said that he could walk out of this job today and be earning double before the year is out. He refused to invest. Other things were said, and Bob dropped the first bombshell, explaining that every job they did for a new client was actually making a loss. The new client had been Local Kitchens only revenue stream since mid October. Apparently John was genuinely shocked and didn't realise that it cost him £200 per hour just to run his business, jumping to £300 if the machinery is running.

The day before we're due to finish for Christmas, I get called into the nearly complete new showroom. I thought John was going to show me what needs finishing and which units need designing, but no. He's worked out the finances and states that there's only enough money to keep me on for another couple of months. He even tries to turn it around by saying that he's sorry and that I'm a good employee but the income isn't there, and he wanted to give me enough time to find something else. I felt my entire world crumble. The rest of the day was a daze, but just before I left, I overhear him ordering some materials from a supplier. His exact words were: Yes, it's John from Local Kitchens. You might have us down as Bad Company.

That's when all the pieces fell into place. It finally clicked why I knew his face. He was the one who scammed my parents.

The last day of work before Christmas arrives, and John had taken his family away over the christmas / new year period. We had to ensure that the factory was powered down, locked off and secure. No-one else wanted the responsibility so I volunteered. With only Bob and myself still left in the factory, I set about gathering evidence and investigating his finances. I already know about the losses, but digging deeper I find that the company actually has no cash flow. Everything is done on credit. His house, his wife's Range Rover, his Jaguar and several other assets are registered as company assets but they're all on finance through Local Kitchens. He owed at least £750k in credit, loans and mortgages.

Bob advised me against doing anything rash as it would only come back to me and agreed that John needed to be taught a lesson not just for the way he treated his empolyees, but for conning my parents and several others out of their life savings. Bob had found a set of files from 2005 to 2008 with customer complaints for shoddy work in the name of Bad Company. It was far too late to legally do anything about the complaints, but we could bring down John and his smug attitude. Bob suggested I read up on health and safety over christmas, and perform some observations in the new year.

January and February I spent making notes, taking photographs and researching legislation. By the time the end of February rolled around, I had a thick folder full of breaches of health and safety, environmental issues, data protection (or lack thereof) and the lack of software licensing. John was well aware of the software issue, but he said that "as long as the software keeps running, it'll be ok". I had emals from him to back this up, and requests for purchases of software and hardware that were turned down so he could dine out at fancy restaurants or stay in 4 star hotels.

My last day rolls around. I have a much better development job lined up thanks to some recruiter contacts I have, and as the current day was a Thursday and I didn't start my new job until Monday, I planned on sleeping in on Friday. John is strangely absent all day but arrives just as we're all leaving for the day. HE SAYS NOTHING as he watches me leave. I got the impression immediately that he wanted me to stay until Friday, but he said that my last day was "the end of the month" and not "Friday". Unsuprisingly, the pay is late. It's 10pm before it appears in the account.

I went to see my mum that evening and told her who my boss was, the way he simply cast me aside when he was done with me, and that I wanted to break him as revenge for the bad work and what we have always considered as a scam. Now, my mum is the sweetest lady you could ever meet, and I was completely shocked when she actually said "bury the bastard". She even let me use her garden incinerator to destroy the personal hand-written instructions that Bob and myself had created since I started. The knowledge of how to fix issues with the specialist software now only existed in our memories.

Friday rolls around, and I have no reason to get up early. My phone is ringing constantly becuase John is trying to get hold of me and it's soon evident that things are going south, rapidly. Bob sent me a text telling me that he gave John a final invoice at 8AM and walked out. Now, had this been petty revenge then the tale would have ended here with him not being able to use his business-critical unlicensed software, and hiring new people, but this is Pro revenge and my mother did tell me to "bury the bastard" so despite feeling sorry for the one other genuine employee that I had a lot of respect for, I enacted my totally legal if not a little underhanded plan.

I reported Local Kitchens and John to the Federation against Software Theft for illegal use of licensed software, giving them information regarding which software was illegally used and how. Just to be safe, I also reported them directly to those software companies too. I supplied the emails as evidence where I had explained to John that he was breaking the law by not having the correct and valid licenses.

I then called a friend at the local government Health and Safety team, reporting no fewer than thirty rule breaches, sending him the supporting images and video. One of Local Kitchens professional memberships had lapsed, but John was still using the logo on paperwork, email signatures, website and the company van, in addition to the signage on the building. I reported that to the professional body in question. I honesly considered reporting GDPR breaches, but I don't think that he had done anything that could be considered a breach.

A week later, John sent me a message stating that If I was still looking for work, he would pay me £50 per day to do "IT work" for him. It came across as if he was trying to do me a favour. I told him that I was previously on £90 per day, but as I was now a freelance contractor, the going rate was closer to £200 per day. He didn't send me another message.

Three weeks later, and the showroom saleswoman - who we'll call Jane (the one remaining staff member I respected) called me to tell me that John had closed Local Kitchens and declared bankruptcy owing nearly a million pounds. I asked about fines, and she said that Health and Safety were behind a building closure which stopped production causing the bankruptcy. In the same week, he had legal notices for illegal software.

As this unfolded, I kept Bob in the loop and Jane kept me informed. As of the start of July, the final figure for fines was levied. £932k debts to the business, £876k fines too. On that same day, purely by chance I was helping a friend deliver pizza and John placed an order My friend was driving and doing the shop work, and I was going to the door to hand the food over, so I actually got to deliver his food. He was nice enough to me when he opened the door, and stated that if I had done the extra "IT Work" for him then I wouldn't have to deliver pizza. I told him that it was what it was, and questioned the fact that there was only enough for 1 meal - didn't his wife like pizza? He told me that she'd left him and taken the kids back to her parents, and that he wasn't OK with that but he had no choice. I agreed, an then decided to twist the knife even more.

I told him that it was a good job he got rid of me when he did, because I now had a fantastic well-paid job that I'm good at, and that if I had stayed, then I would have brought myself down as well as him. That's when he realised that I had called in all the agencies that had eventually shut him down. He demanded to know why, as he had "given me everything" and "taught me how to work in the kitchen industry". I simply replied with my parents address and the year 2007. I saw the colour drain from his face as he realised that his past had caught up with him. Then I told him how much he had to pay on his pizza, and he threw £40 at me and snatched the food out of my hands, slamming the door in my face. His food was only £21.50, so I got a nice £18.50 tip from him that night.

(source) story by (/u/tac-21a)

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

An Ode to Payphones

    “Mommy, what’s that?”       I looked. A child was glaring suspiciously at the payphone I’d been using moments before. He looked to be six or seven-years old, so it shouldn’t have been surprising that he’d never seen or noticed a public telephone before, but still. The question, and the palpable disgust in his voice, made me feel old.      “That’s a payphone, honey.”      “What’s it for?”      The mother cast an apprehensive look my way. We were on the platform at Spadina station and she’d seen me on the phone, plugging my ear against the shattering noise of a subway pulling in, making arrangements to meet my heroin dealer John at our usual spot at Main and Danforth. I would have to call him again when I got there, either from one of the four payphones inside Main Street station or on one of the two phones outside the church at Danforth. The phones inside Main Station must have all been routed through one line, because they either all worked, or none did.

    As for the two phones outside the church at Main and Danforth, typically one was broken, but they both worked when I went to check them for this article, a miracle perhaps attributable to the Second Coming of Christ on the roof.

     There have been long spells throughout my life as an addict during which I’ve had no mobile phone. Every spare cent went to heroin. The longest such spell was nearly a year. Several spanned three or four months. So it’s safe to say I know the payphones of Toronto as well as anybody else.      One of my old heroin dealers lived near Roncesvalles and Howard Park, where a non-Bell phone sat outside the Meridian Bank on the northeast corner, crooked and somehow wounded looking.

     There’s no trace of it now, but I know there used to be one just north, on the other side of the street where Dundas splits eastward from Roncesvalles. I used to use it all the time. Luckily, there’s another one not twenty steps east, a Bell, just outside the bus stop east of the Starbucks at Dundas and Roncesvalles. I’ve fed that phone a lot of Loonies, cursing its curious inability to recognize nickels or dimes.

     My Roncesvalles dealer was notoriously unreliable, so I often found myself having to take the College car all the way across the city to its eastern terminus at Main Station. While waiting on that corner for John I would commiserate with my fellow drug users, many of whom lacked phones themselves.      The most popular complaint I heard was how hard it was getting to find a public phone. Apparently some neighbourhoods in Toronto are payphone deserts. You can walk for twenty minutes in any direction and not find one.       So I’m going to see how many phones there are within a five minute radius of my apartment. My guess would be at least eight. Maybe ten. I’m about to get evicted, but I’ve lived in Kensington Market at Nassau and Bellevue since February 2017, which is a veritable payphone oasis. It’s too cold to go out tonight, so I’m going to take a virtual tour of my neighbourhood and take screenshots of every phone I find from Google Street View. Yes, the photos look pretty lo-fi but my whole life is lo-fi, so sue me.      Here’s a no-name one just north of Dundas on Bathurst: 

Here’s one just south of Oxford on Augusta: 

There are two Bell phones just outside Nirvana, across from Sneaky Dee’s:

There’s one outside the church one block east of Bathurst at Lippincot and College:

Here’s another no-name phone one block west of Spadina on the south side of College: 

And here’s a bank of payphones outside the internet cafe at Spadina and College:

     All three of the above phones never work at the same time, and some days you’re lucky to find one operational. (Incidentally, if someone ever reads this post a century from now, or maybe I mean a decade, or maybe I mean reads this post at all, I wonder how quaint the term “payphones outside the internet cafe” will seem.)      Here’s one more non-Bell phone, just to the west of the Scotiabank on the northwest corner of Dundas and Spadina. This phone has great personal significance for me, for a reason I can’t get into. Let’s just say I made a phone call on it during a very memorable moment in my life:

     For those of you not counting, that’s ten phones all within a five minute walk of my apartment in Kensington. There are another three are in the lobby of Toronto Western Hospital, for thirteen total. Thirteen is a lot more than I expected. Especially in 2020. And I’m sure I’m missing a few. Maybe payphones aren’t as endangered as they seem. In fact, as I was taking the photograph at the top of this post, a woman came over to me and asked, “are you using the phone?”     So they definitely still serve a purpose. They wouldn’t still be there if nobody was using them. A capitalist venture like Bell doesn’t keep phones around because the CEO is nostalgic. I’m kind of relieved at how many there still are, and how vital they still seem to be.       Still, I have mixed feelings toward payphones. They annoy me, but I also like them for reasons I can’t explain. I like invisible infrastructure. Nobody notices payphones. Ask yourself where the nearest payphone is. Do you even know? They may be forgotten or disliked, but they’re dependable, standing tall at their lonely outposts through sleet and rain, day and night, as we cuddle up with our smartphones in the warmth of our homes. We’ve left payphones out in the cold and most of us don’t even miss them.      I have a mobile phone now, but I still miss payphones. Or maybe I miss the days when they were a normal way to communicate, phone books slung around their waists, swinging on a chain. (Some time in the last decade, phone companies must have got tired of replacing the books nobody ever used and just got rid of them entirely. I guess they figured we could look up the numbers we need on...our mobile phones?)      Yes, there’s a definite note of nostalgia among people who still use payphones. We’re all bitter about the great price jump of 2007, when calls went from twenty-five cents to fifty, an increase of one-hundred percent. If you’re of my generation, old enough to remember life before the internet, then you know that payphones are sad remainders of the technology we grew up with, a visible reminder of the 90s. It’s my firm belief that everybody suffers from chronic temporal sickness for the decade they grew up in. I can imagine a day when they only exist in museums and photographs. Maybe I’ll go to watch the last phone get decommissioned. Maybe I’ll only love payphones once I can never use one again, like the Once-ler becoming an environmentalist only after hearing the “thwack” that felled the last Truffula tree in Dr. Suess’ The Lorax.      I feel this way even though payphones are often more a hassle than a convenience. I once spent half an hour outside the Eaton Centre on Queen Street waiting for a woman to finish her conversation, only to find the phone broken when she finally hung up. Her wild gesticulations should have tipped me off that she’d been screaming at a phantom, but I was too dopesick to notice.        There were and are other cons to payphone usage. It wasn’t always easy to come up with the necessary exact change. Or sometimes you’d have exact change but the phone wouldn’t recognize one of your coins. For whatever reason, payphones have a really hard time reading dimes. Many times I’ve had just enough to make one call but the phone won’t cooperate and I’ve had to throw myself at the mercy of a local convenience store owner or random bystander. Maybe “can I use your phone?” was an innocuous question back in the day, but nowadays people immediately suspect you for asking and they really, really do not want to loan you their phone. I don’t blame them. Our phones contain our entire lives. It’s not the same as handing someone a few quarters.       Despite all the long list of cons, there remains among my fellow payphone users a keen sense of loss. We’re all grieving something indefinable, something that went away with the advent of mobile phones. And I’m not leading up to a gripe about “kids these days on their phones.” As an avid reader, I usually bury my nose in a book when I’m on transit, so I don’t beseech people to “live in the moment” when they’re sitting on a bus. Being a passenger on the TTC for the thousandth time isn’t something that requires one’s undivided attention. I only get annoyed when I see some guy – and it’s always a guy – staggering down the sidewalk with his eyes glued to his phone, walking into people. Or walking into traffic. The feelings of wistfulness among payphone users grows more acute as the years roll on and more and more public telephones are yanked from their moorings, never to return. The sense of loss sometimes manifests itself in the passing down of legend.      When I first heard the story, it was that there exists somewhere in the city of Toronto a payphone that still makes calls for a quarter. I was convinced it was the one just east of University on Dundas, south side of the street, just east of the Royal Bank. It just looks so fucking furtive. Like it’s hiding from the tourist hordes at Yonge and Dundas square, tucked around that corner:

     I went to check that phone for this article but it doesn’t work at all, much less for half price.      In an apt game of telephone about telephones, the legend grew. Only a few months after I first heard the Legend of the Half-Price Payphone, the story had morphed into a unicorn payphone that makes calls for free. People were arguing over which one it could be, though admittedly nobody had ever found it. It was like the leprechaun’s pot of gold.      “It’s the one outside the mall at Kingston and Midland. The one with the Scotiabank!”      “Naw it’s the payphone at Warden Station! Next to the donut shop!”      “It’s the one at Yonge and Charles!”      “What? They took that one out before 9/11.”      “It’s the one in Yorkdale near the GO Station!”      “Seriously bro. Pre-9/11. You’re memory is fucked, bro.”      “My cousin’s in the Hell’s Angels. He can sell you a burner for $5. Why use a payphone when you can get a…”       “No one cares about your cousin, Dwight.”      “Pre-9/11 bro. Seriously. Yonge and Charles? Christ!”       And on and on and on, into the night.       I have a mobile phone now and it’s hard to imagine I’ll ever go back.       The final straw came when I had to go up to Muskoka one summer for four days to work on a cottage. I missed my partner so much by the third day that I walked up and down the length of the lake, looking for a payphone. I probably had a better chance of spotting a lion, but there was no way I was going back to that cottage without talking to my wife. I missed her too fucking much.       At the end of the lake I spotted a house with the garage door wide open. Inside the garage there was a workbench, a fridge, and all sorts of tools. On a hunch, I quietly made my way up the gravel driveway. There wasn’t a human being in sight. Inside the garage, I spotted a wall-mounted phone, and called my wife. She didn’t answer but I left her a message. As I was leaving it I heard footsteps and before I could make myself scarce an elderly lady came around the corner and stared at me. She obviously lived there.       “Um. I was just…leaving,” I said, hanging up the phone and sheepishly skipping back to the main road as fast as I could. The woman frowned after me, watching me go.       A little further down the road I saw an electrician working on a house and asked to use his phone. He said yes and I finally got through to my wife. But I couldn’t talk long or say what I wanted to say because the electrician was staring at me, so I determined right there and then to get and keep a fucking phone of my own. And that’s what I did. I sometimes pay my bill late and find myself cast backward into the land of payphones and useless dimes, but for the most part I’ve joined the 21st century.      As for that mother and her child, the mother did her best, to her credit.              “Some people…can’t afford cell phones,” she informed her son, who looked bored already. “Or else they can’t get coverage on the subway, so they use one of these. Or in emergencies, they work for emergencies.”       “What kind of person can’t afford a phone?” the child brayed incredulously.       The mother looked embarrassed. I wasn’t. Let her stupid kid hate payphones and poor people. Most people do.      I rarely use payphones now but I still get a small shiver of curiosity when I pass one I haven’t seen before, wondering if it’s the legendary free one. The unicorn. The white whale of public telephones. So I check. And I hear “please insert fifty cents” from the robotic lady voice that rules payphone land.      Then I move on.

[mystoicalbluebirdobject-blog]

My nonsense starts

I have been staying at home for over two months since coronavirus outbroke in Wuhan, or to be more precise- since the outbreak in Wuhan was finally revealed and since when (only) some people began to fear. It’s sunny today in northeast China, my hometown. I took a walk out and appreciated the revived lives. I have been sleepy for all these days though interning from home for WSJ every weekday. But a large bottle of green tea with salt-cheese on top saved my life today, and further it inspired me to keep down my emotions at this very moment and for the last few months.

As a student majoring in journalism, I think I should have written something about that epidemic earlier. At least, I should have kept some literal records- I know I couldn’t work as a mature journalist yet, but I could be historian-like or writer-like to protect memories from fading away. But the fact is disappointing- I left nothing in my Word documents and notebooks. I only saved many screen captures including memorable, powerful reports (which are blocked now) and confusing, desperate SOS messages in my mobile phone, but deleted them all yesterday. There would be no opportunity for me to shed light on these captures, therefore, it was no pity of the deletion. It seems like a new page now for China. History is for historians, but apparently the near history is for politicians. I did post via social media a lot during late-January and early-February, and I deleted these posts, too. It’s a sore point indeed for someone who enjoys hoarding information. I am working for foreign media and don’t want to trouble my colleagues- it’s such sensitive moment if you know about the repulsion that our personal information must have been acquired by administrative institutions in China.

I have felt more connected with Wuhan than ever. Wuhan is my second hometown accordingly- I study in Wuhan University in junior year even though I have finished all my course credits last semester. I used to complain a lot about its awkward location and terrible administrative system. It ranks one of the best Chinese universities but its ranking drops and drops every year since it locates in the middle of China. It is called “the first CCP school in central China” because we have to pass closed-book exams for ideological and political subjects. In other universities, the exams are open. There were four, and now it’s five: Ideological and Moral Cultivation and Basic Law Education, Outline of Chinese Modern History (rewritten CCP history, mostly), Basic Principle of Marxism (rewritten Marxism, as a great philosopher, Marx is so poor), Maoism and Xiism. You can’t imagine- I was prepared to graduate and thought having finished all courses when the staff suddenly told us a new course was inserted into our compulsory subjects- Xiism. However, I love Wuhan University despite many such unhappy experiences. It sounds contradictory, but it’s real- it’s the last place in China that preserves freedom, or at least it caltivates my freedom- to think.

I feel connected to it not only for the closeness but also because my beloved professors and friends are there to live, you know, you hear people are dying and you can’t help think they are people who once walked past you on street. I was in great depression in the days when everything was in shortage in Wuhan. I shivered during nights and couldn’t figure out why things evolved in that cruel way, taking away lives all in a sudden. I left on 5 Jan. when the city was alive but it became dead within a month. Behind the surging figures there are vivid lives. Now is the time to “harvest” from the “victory”, as if the figures are necessary sacrifices during a righteous war. That’s partially right. The deaths are the kind of sacrifices in a political ritual, same as the chickens, ducks and geese with their throats cut in ancient times. And the only enhancement in the administrative operation I have seen so far is that they devastate and eliminate the last piece of space for opinion. The Office of the Central Leading Group for Cyberspace Affairs would probably be the most efficient and assiduous institution throughout China. Though I would never like to be passionate about politics and like to shelter me from being too radical, my efforts to avoid incurring trouble didn’t pay off- both philosophy and sociology can be radical and anti-social here.

That’ why I now start blogging here in English which I am bad at. I have NO intention for debating over politics or complaining about CCP government here. I am just planning to find somewhere to place my reading notes on sociology and philosophy. They are vulnerable due to censorship.

[trashcanmarvelfan]

Best. Job. Ever. (Tom Holland x Reader) 1/?

Summary: Reader gets a job on the set of Spider-Man: Far from Home for the 3 weeks they are shooting in New York City as what she thinks is a production assistant, but a twist of fate has her reassigned as Tom Holland's personal assistant. As she & Tom grow close during filming, will their budding friendship turn to more or will they go their separate ways after filming concludes?

Warnings: Language, but that’s pretty much it? This is basically a PG-13 rom-com.

Word Count: 2109

Author’s Note: As this was written WAY before Spider-Man: Far from Home was released (actually before Avengers: Endgame was as well) I've kept plot details and which scene was being shot on what day extremely vague. Also, I'm American but tried to write Tom as British as possible, although I do think he'd try to stay(ish) in character and use as much American slang as he could while he's still playing Peter.

Requests are always open! 

Cross-posted at AO3.

“I really need your help here,” Y/N's best friend Laura said over the phone. “Please, Y/N.”

Laura had wanted to direct films, so she immediately moved to L.A. upon Y/N’s & her college graduation that past spring to work in the film industry. So far she had worked as a production assistant on a few feature films and was currently scheduled to work as part the Spider-Man: Far from Home crew, but she had been offered a position as a 3rd assistant AD on another film after the director saw one of her student films, which unfortunately required her to drop out of the Spider-Man crew. Before leaving Laura had promised that she would find a reliable, trustworthy replacement.

“I don’t know,” Y/N replied.

“I promised Anna I’d find a replacement PA since I had to back out. You don’t start your new job for like a month, right?”

“Right…”

“It’s only for the final 3 weeks of shooting, while they’re in New York. They’ll put you up in a hotel, you’ll get to meet the cast, and you’ll get to see the city! Think of it as a paid vacation… that makes you work for it. You might actually get to meet Tom Holland himself!”

Y/N sighed wistfully.  She had had a crush on Tom Holland ever since she had seen him in Captain America: Civil War, and had loved him in both Spider-Man: Homecoming and Avengers: Infinity War. Laura wouldn't have recommended her if she didn't believe that Y/N could do it, right? “You’re so lucky I love you… and that I really need the money.”

Laura squealed. “So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Great! I’ll let them know and send you the details.”

One week later, Y/N stepped off of the plane in NYC. She grabbed her bags from luggage claim, caught a cab, and headed to her hotel to check in and drop her luggage off before catching an Uber to the crew meeting.

She nervously tapped her foot the entire way to the filming location. Once she had arrived, she made her way through security and to the set.

She spotted a woman holding a clipboard, who was directing various people where to go, so she walked over to her. “Excuse me, I need to check in. I'm the new production assistant, taking over for Laura Pearson.”

The woman peered over her glasses at Y/N. “Name?”

“Y/F/N.”

The woman glanced at her clipboard. “Y/N, Y/N”, she muttered, running her finger down the page. “Ah. Yes, we’ve been expecting you. You’ve actually been reassigned from production assistant to personal assistant to Tom Holland.”

“Wait, excuse me-- What?”  Y/N thought that there was no way that she had heard right. “Did you just say that I’m Tom Holland’s personal assistant?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, well, Tom’s in need of an assistant for this leg of the shooting and you seemed like the perfect choice.”

Y/N was still convinced that there had been a mistake. “But I’ve never even worked on a movie set before. When I was told I’d be a P.A. I assumed that meant I’d be a production assistant to the director or something.”

The woman arched an eyebrow. “Is there a problem? You came very highly recommended, and your background and references were excellent.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, no problem. Just surprised, is all.”

Suddenly things started to make sense.  She had thought that the NDA Sony had made her sign had some extra clauses to it regarding speaking to the media about the cast, and the hotel she was staying at was more fancy than she had been expecting. Tom must be staying there.

The woman handed her a manila envelope. “Here’s Tom’s schedule for this week. On Saturday I’ll give you his schedule for next week, and next week I’ll give you the final week’s schedule.  You’ll be meeting with him at the hotel restaurant at 5 pm today to go over it and to make sure that nothing conflicts or has changed in his availability. We start shooting tomorrow. Any questions?”

Y/N took a deep breath and shook her head. What is my life?

She went back to her hotel and reviewed Tom’s schedule, noting with relief that she would have Sunday off, which would at least give her one day this week to go sightseeing. Better than nothing, I guess. She had hoped to be able to do some exploring before filming started the next day but instead opted to take a nap before her meeting with Tom.  Jet-lag must’ve hit her harder than she thought, because Y/N slept for longer than she thought she would’ve. Luckily she had set an alarm, which gave her enough time to shower, throw some fresh clothes on, and get downstairs to the restaurant about 10 minutes early.

She gave her name to the hostess and was led to a small table in the back of the mostly-empty restaurant. A few seconds later their server came by. “Hi, my name is Michael and I’ll be taking care of you. Is someone joining you tonight?”

“Ahh, yes, actually. He should be here any minute,” Y/N replied.

“Ok, great. Can I get you anything while you wait?”

Y/N bit her lip. She was working, so… “An iced tea and a water would be great to start with.”

“Ok, I’ll get you that tea and water and be back momentarily.”

“Thanks so much.”

As Michael walked away Y/N checked her phone and noticed that she had a message from Laura. How was the crew meeting?

I have so much to tell you, Y/N responded. But it’ll have to wait.

She put her phone away.  Michael came back with her water and she thanked him before pulling out Tom’s schedule.  She was reading over it again when she heard a crisp British accent. “Excuse me, Y/N?”

She looked up and her heart skipped a beat. Holy shit. Tom Holland himself stood in front of her. “Um…” she stammered. “Yeah. I mean yes.”

“Hi, I’m Tom,” he said, taking a seat across from her and sticking his hand out.

Y/N shook his hand. “Y/N… but you already knew that.”

Tom grinned. “Nice to meet you.”  He leaned back in his chair as Michael returned once more.

“Hello there! I’m Michael. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Um, yeah, I’ll take a water.”

“Ok then, I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menu and then I’ll be back.”

Tom picked up the menu. “I’m famished. Y/N, would you like something to eat?”

At the mention of food Y/N’s stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten yet that day. Her eyes widened in embarrassment.

Tom laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He picked up his menu.

“So,” he said once Michael had returned with his water and they had placed their orders, “tell me about yourself. I figure if we’re going to be working with each other for the next few weeks we ought to get to know each other, am I right?”

“Um, right,” Y/N agreed. “Well, I’m originally from (hometown) but I recently graduated from the University of Chicago with a degree in English with a focus on journalism.”

Tom looked impressed. “How on earth did you wind up as an assistant on a movie set then?”

“My friend and former college roommate Laura was originally scheduled to be a production assistant on this shoot but had to back out, so she asked me to fill in. I was recently offered a position with a publishing company in Los Angeles, but I could really use the money while I’m waiting on my background check & paperwork to go through, so I agreed to help her out, plus this is my first time in New York so I thought it’d kind of... be like a vacation? I really wasn’t expecting to be your assistant for the next 3 weeks… Not that it’s a problem!” she quickly corrected herself. “I just… It’s just not what I expected to be doing.”

Tom was obviously amused. “Well, it’s not the most glamorous job in the world since you basically have to follow me around everywhere, but I promise to make it easy on you.” He winked then pulled out his phone. “Since we're going to need to stay in touch over the next few weeks how about you give me your mobile number and email address? Anna didn't give me your personal information, just your name.”

Y/N flushed slightly. “ Oh um, sure. And thanks.” She rattled off her phone number and waited while Tom added her contact information, then  picked up Tom’s schedule. “So since shooting starts tomorrow, shall we go over your schedule?”

They hashed out the details of the next week in between bites, Y/N making notes in her phone and setting alarms so she wouldn’t forget anything.

Once they were finished, Tom insisted on taking care of the check. “It’s on me. It’s the least I can do to thank you in advance for keeping me on schedule.”

“Oh, well, thank you so much,” Y/N said.

They left the restaurant and headed toward the elevator together. “Which floor?” Tom asked.

“10,” Y/N replied.

“Oh, is that so? I’m actually on the 10th too.”

“Cool,” Y/N replied. “Oh that reminds me, since I have to come pick you up from your room… which one is it?”

“Right, I guess that would be important, wouldn’t it?” Tom chuckled. “I’m in 1043.”

“Ok, so, a car is supposed to pick us up at 7:30 tomorrow morning to make sure you’re at the set for 8,” Y/N confirmed, so I’ll be around about… 7:15ish?”

“7:15 it is,” Tom nodded.

“Umm… do you want me to pick you up some coffee in the morning? Oh wait, you’re British, you probably don’t drink coffee. Tea then?”

Tom laughed. “Actually I DO drink coffee, and that would be lovely, thank you.”

“Great! There’s a Starbucks in the lobby of the hotel, is that ok?”

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

The elevator doors opened on their floor and they stepped out into the hallway.

“Ok, well, I’m this way,” Y/N said, pointing in the opposite direction of Tom’s room.  “I’ll… see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow. Good night, Y/N.”

“‘Night, Tom.”

As soon as Y/N got in her room she pulled out her phone and Facetimed Laura.

“Hey, Y/N,” Laura answered. “What’s up?”

“So when were you going to tell me that I was going to be Tom Freaking Holland’s personal assistant on this shoot?” Y/N hissed.

Laura’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “What? You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. I walked on set fully expecting to be a production assistant helping everyone out, not personal assistant to the star of the freaking film! What the hell did you tell these people about me?”

“Just that you were super reliable and trustworthy and a little about your background. You’re the one who sold them on you with your phone interview and resume. This is a good thing,” Laura reassured her. “I’m sure it’ll be a lot more fun keeping Tom on schedule than running around set as a glorified gopher who hands out scripts and fetches coffee for everyone.”

“Well that's true, plus the pay is actually double what I would’ve originally made, and they put me up in a swanky hotel,” Y/N replied.

“Well see, it’s definitely working out!” Laura paused. “Have you met Tom yet?”

Y/N sighed. “Actually, yeah. We just had a dinner meeting.”

“Is he as cute as he is on screen?”

“Oh my gosh, Laura, he’s even more adorable in person, and he seems really nice. And that accent-- So dreamy.”

Laura squealed. “Take lots of pictures and send them to me!”

Y/N laughed. “I have to be professional, but maybe I’ll be able to get a selfie with Tom before filming is over.”

A bell rang in the background and Laura looked over her shoulder. “I’ve got to go, but have fun and keep me posted!”

“Will do! Bye!” Y/N ended the call.

She brushed her teeth and got ready for bed. 8 PM in New York City and I’m already in bed, she thought sardonically. What a wild life I lead.

She snuggled in bed with her tablet and rewatched Spider-Man: Homecoming before falling into a dreamless sleep.

[davidaccampo]

Breaking Down Comics

A friend of Amanda Donahue, one of my co-creators on THE MARGINS, asked me some questions, and they were so good I felt it was worth dusting off Tumblr to answer. Thanks, Nick, and I hope these rambles give you something worth your while! 

Below are Nick’s two questions and my VERY long answers.

Sooo, my first question would just be how you got into it. Is it your primary form of writing?

Great question. So, is it my primary form of writing? Hmmm. I just finished a commitment to a set of 4 interactive mobile game scripts that took up quite a chunk of the last few months. In that time frame I also released a one-shot licensed 22-page comic and a 12-page digital creator-owned comic. So, on balance, I don’t think it’s currently my primary form of writing, but it’s definitely my favorite form, and it’s a medium and industry that I’m both very familiar with and passionate about, so whenever I’m given the chance to write comics, I take it.

However, comics as an industry is a difficult one to navigate. With the two biggest publishers owning incredibly popular franchises, the prime means for writers to make a living on comics is to essentially write super-heroes that you don’t own. And that, in itself, is neither good nor bad. It’s just worth noting that if you want to make comics your primary form of income, then DC and Marvel are going to come into your orbit in some shape. And that type of writing will come with its own set of thrills and challenges.

On the flip side, creator-owned comics and graphic novels can be an extremely fulfilling creative experience, if financially tricky to produce and sell. But the comics industry is still intimate enough that you can find ways to make and sell your comics. There’s a lot more to talk about there with regards to distribution and comics retail, but that’s another conversation.

It’s also worth noting that while the prevailing understanding is that digital comics sell only a fraction of the numbers of printed comics, it’s also a very accessible platform. With time and effort, you can put a comic book out to a global audience.

I may have veered slightly off topic here, but I think the point I’m trying to make is: if you want comics to be your primary form of writing, they most certainly can be. And you can and will make comics passionately and whole-heartedly, and you’ll put them into the world.

But making a living off of them is much more complicated scenario and every creator out there will have different advice for you, but be prepared for an equation that’s pretty familiar to any who has ever freelanced: less control = more money. Generally speaking, of course. There’s always a Walking Dead situation, if all the stars align.

Oh, and I never answered the first part of that question — how did I get into it? I’ll try to bullet point my personal path, which is super wonky, but probably not much stranger than most writers.

It kinda went like this:

Dave’s Writing Career: A Timeline

I always loved comics. In high school, I even wrote and drew 80 pages of a comic that was a horrible pastiche of Marvel/Epic’s Elektra: Assassin by Frank Miller and Bill Sienkiewicz and DC’s The Question by Denny O’Neil, Denys Cowan, and Rick Magyar. However, in my 20s, I’d attend conventions and discover that I had no idea how to move from fandom into professional writing.

I went on to study English and Creative Writing, thinking I’d write prose novels.

Then I moved to LA and fell in with a crowd of Hollywood screenwriter types. I wrote a few screenplays with a writing partner, Jeremy Rogers, but when nothing really came from it, we decided to make our own short films.

We made 3 short films that went into film festivals.  At this point, I was tired of spending so much time and money making 10-30 minute films that didn’t result in much. We hatched a new plan: what if we availed ourselves of the iTunes platform and released an audio drama as a podcast?

Wormwood: A Serialized Mystery was the result. It allowed us to tell long, serialized stories, much like my first love: comic books.

Toward the end of the Wormwood run, an illustrator named Jared Souza contacted us. He’d adapted scenes from Wormwood into sequential art, and  was curious if we ever thought about turning it into a comic book. We jumped at the chance, and with Jared we wrote and drew an 12-page mini-comic that we printed and took to the San Diego Comic-Con. Hermes Press was interested in our book, and they offered us a deal shortly after the show was over.

From there, I kept thinking about what else I could do with comics. I partnered with Chris Anderson for Lost Angels, and we made another 12-page mini-comic as a sales pitch, and we were offered a digital-first deal with a new publisher, Comicker.

And it keeps going from there, but that is the long and windy road telling stories in a LOT of different formats, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. Learning the strengths of one format does help you to understand the strengths of another. For example, for Wormwood we could really lean into long, twisty passages of monologue because it was all about the actors’ voices. However, as soon as you bring that to comics, you realize the amount of word balloons those monologues would take would utterly cover up any artwork on the page. And so you adjust.

Which is a nice segue to your other question…

Secondly, I'd love to hear how you work things out. As far as layout in regards to story. The most challenging aspect for me is to convert my thinking from imagining in film to now these static images. Do you put a lot of thought into that area, or do you focus mostly on the story and then sort of work that out as you are getting it down?

My initial thought is: “I do both.” But let’s break those up.

In terms of static images: think about the key moments. The perfect still frame of film that sums up the core of a moment of story in your mind. You want to build out from there.

But almost more importantly: think about the gutters. The space between panels. The gutters are actually where all the magic in comics reside. I recommend reading Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud. McCloud is great for understanding how a reader processes the information when we’re as absorbing art in a sequence. And the key is the gutters: The narrative “time” between panels can last a millisecond or a millennium. And the reader understands that from the context. So you’ve got to figure out how much you can get away with in between panels.

A panel exists in one moment in time. One action can occur. Imagine a father and son playing catch. What’s the most important part of that scene? The father throwing? The son catching? That’s two panels. Or, it could be a wide shot of the two, the ball in mid-air, but that wide shot probably should take up as much space on the page as two close angle shots of throwing and catching.

So, you ask yourself: what’s the emotional context of the scene? Is it important to show the father about to throw the ball (perhaps metaphorically teaching his son)? Is it important to show the son catching that ball (perhaps showing the son absorbing the lesson)? Is the activity itself the most important part (the wider shot might work best). It really depends upon the what you want to get out of the scene.

Another example: A man sits in his living room. There’s a knock at the door. He answers. It’s his landlord.

How many  panels is that? The only concrete answer I can give you is that it’s ”more than one” — because the of multiple actions involved.

It could be two panels: 1) the man sits reading a newspaper, but his head is cocked because he’s JUST heard the SFX of knocking on his door. 2) he’s standing at the open door and the landlord is asking him for a rent check.

It could be five panels: 1) the main sits reading a newspaper. 2) We show the front door, with knocking SFX. 3) The man opens the door, but we don’t show who it is, building suspense. The man is nervous. 4) we reveal it’s the landlord, standing there, arms crossed and angry. 5) The landlord asks for the rent check.

How important is that scene to your overall story? Five panels is roughly a whole page. Do you want to spend a whole page to show that the man is late with his rent?

That’s brings us to the next part of your question, and the other aspect that’s really important to comics: page count.

Page count is crucial because of the amount of time it takes an artist to draw a page, and also because of the printing costs. A standard issue of a comic is roughly 20-22 pages. So you’ve got to start by knowing how much space you’ve got (some writers will refer to this as “real estate”).

As a general standard, I’m going to assume that you’re looking at a mini-series or story arc that’s probably 5-6 issues, at 20-22 pages per issue. That works for comic book issue publishing, and it collects nicely into a graphic novel.

Even if I know I’m writing a graphic novel (as we did with The Margins), I tend to think in those general terms because it helps me break the story down.

So, I might start by assuming I have 5 chapters that are each 20 pages. Then I figure out — where is the best place to end Chapter One? It shouldn’t just be a moment of pivot — a cliffhanger, something that pushes the reader to start the next chapter as quickly as they can.

I’ll use the film THE MATRIX for this example, but I’m doing this from memory, so this may not be the best story breakdown.

At first thought, knowing I have 5 chapters of 20 pages each, it seems to me a great end to the first chapter might be Neo waking up in his pod in the real world. I mean, you have to read Issue #2 if that’s where Issue #1 ends, right?

If that’s page 20, you now have 19 pages to get there. And you have to get through: Trinity and the agents, Neo following the white rabbit, Neo meeting Trinity, Neo getting a call phone from Morpheus, Neo taken by the agents and getting the tracker put in him. Neo getting the tracker removed. Neo taking the red pill.

That’s a LOT! (It’s probably more than 20 pages, but please bear in my I’m just using this as an example.)

Next I’d think about: how much real estate do I give to Trinity vs. The Agents. Maybe four pages. The first two are the fighting and running across the rooftops. The second two could be a DOUBLE-PAGE SPLASH (two pages that make up one giant image) of Agent Smith ramming his truck into the phone booth. That’d also make for a good title/credits page.

I can probably script that, but I first have to think if I can get though the rest of it with 15 more pages. Ack!

Luckily, the next bits contain a lot of conversations, so we can probably get away with 5-9 panels per page, lots of back and forth conversation, condensed onto fewer pages. And that’s key because we’re going to have to go to larger panels for key action sequences like Neo climbing out on the building ledge. Neo getting the tracker put into his belly.

To be honest, at this point, I’d probably have to rethink some of this — this feels like too much for 20 pages. But hopefully that example shows you how I approach the process. It’s basically taking the whole story and then breaking it into issue-sized chunks, then pages, then finally panels.

And as you think about panels, you do want to make sure you have a mix. Some kind of big splash page is important — it allows you to focus on the biggest moments, and it also gives the reader a bit of a chance to relax, slow down and take in the art. A sequential page can have more panels, but it becomes denser, and each panel can contain less information — one or two dialogue balloons, limited backgrounds, etc. The more panels, the less room and detail each panel can contain.

Personally, I like to think about most of my sequential pages being about 4-8 panels, peppered with one or two splash pages. I can bump up or lower the panel count as needed. If you start by thinking about 3-4 panels for big cinematic action and 5-9 panels for dense conversation or smaller actions, then you’ll probably find yourself with a decent balance through your comic.

Those are my long-winded answers. I hope this helps. There’s much more to talk about in terms of craft, but this covers most of what I think about when breaking down a comic book story.

[cashtonwoah-blog]

Better Man // Part 1

Hey guys! It's been a while since I wrote any stuff on here, so apologies! This is a new Ashton Irwin Series, enjoy!

Warnings : Swearing, light smut.

Side note--this is a very different series to what I normally write. It's a long one!

"Do you have Fanta Lemon or Orange?" I hear the old man say at the pool bar desk.

"Both! Which will it be?" I politely ask the customer. He agrees on one of each. I smile, walking over to the machine to pour a drink. I give the man his drinks, complete with ice and a lemon slice in the Fanta Lemon.

"Thanks" he says, adding a creepy wink at the end, shoving a crumpled €5 in to the tip jar on the work surface. I weakely smile, thanking him for his tip.

It's March, and it's currently 21 degrees in Santa Cruz de Tenerife, and I'm working for a 6th day in a row. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. It was only meant to be a summer job, working in a restaurant bar at a five star hotel for 3 months during my university holidays. I had it all figured out, work during the summer abroad to save money for my 2nd year at university, however life took a different path. I ended up failing my last essay, meaning that I would have to retake the whole year, so I decided to drop out of university all together. My Dad ended up marrying this blonde women I'd met appropriately 5 times in 6 months, so I decided to move out. In the end, staying in Santa Cruz de Tenerife was a better plan, no family, no university, just my friends out here and work, and that's all that mattered.

"Y/N, go have your break" I hear my boss, Andre shout from the store cupboard. I take my apron off, grab a glass of water and head to the break room. I open the door to find my best mates, Camila and Ed, already sat in there, probably gossiping about someone.

"Y/N! Come join us, we're bitching about Margot again" Ed laughed, pushing a chair towards me.

"Let me guess, she left the cups in the dryer again?!" I sighed.

Ed and Camila hated the new girl, Margot, who had just started working shifts on the bar. It would be unfair to say she was bad at her job, she is awful. From spilling drinks to over customers to making basically poisonous drinks, she couldn't get the hang of it.

"She left me to do all the washing up again today, it's pissing me off" Camila moaned.

I rolled my eyes.

"Maybe mention it to Andre, maybe she needs more training".

Camila laughed.

"Nope, she needs to leave. She isn't cut out for this job" she replies, high fiving Ed. I rolled my eyes again.

"Anyway, what's up with you? Any new guys on the scene?" Ed winked at me, resting his hands on his face, like he was waiting for some big story.

"Oh please, next question" I scoffed, taking a mouthful of drink to clear my dry throat. Since moving to Santa Cruz de Tenerife permanently, I'd become best friends with Ed and Camila through work. We were a smiliar age, but very different people. Camila had been seeing a guy, Pete, for 8 months when I first met her, and Ed was in an on-off thing with the lifeguard at the pool, Mateo. Where as me, I'd been single for a good 2 years. My last relationship was with a guy back in England, which didn't end so nicely. I decided that my move to Santa Cruz de Tenerife would maybe bring some new love into my life, and a year later after moving here, I was still single.

"Well what about Matias?" Camila sighed.

"Not my type, too chatty" I laughed.

"Ben?"

"Not funny enough"

"Mateo is nice" Ed laughed.

"Yeah, before I realised he only went out with me because he fancied you!" I laughed.

"Seriously though Y/N, where are you gonna find someone and stop being so fussy?" Camila asked.

"When the time is right Cami, just not now I guess!" I jokingly snapped at her. I loved my friends, but do wish that they'd get off my case about finding someone. I wasn't really in the mood for dating at the moment.

"Anyway... Moving on... What you got planned for this weekend?" I asked my friends.

"Well, there's fuck all to do here, so we could head into town, have a night out?" Ed suggested.

"Sounds good, and, maybe I could ask Pete to bring a mate..." Camila winked at me. I groaned.

"I better get back to work, see you later!" I got up and walked away before she could finish what she was going to say.

"Okay girl, think about it!" she laughs, seeing how annoyed I was getting. Ed nudges her playfully.

****

It's 12am, and my shift is coming to an end. I close up the outdoor bar, pack away the glasses that Margot didn't do from earlier. I hang my apron up, and head to the main reception desk of the hotel to sign out. I see a few regular hotel guests and say goodnight to them. Just as I get the staff sign out book, I hear a slam of a door behind me. It startles me so much that I drop the book onto the floor. I groan, bending down to pick the book up. As I go to pick it up, a set of hands also reaches for the book and helps me to pick it up. I look up, and see a man with messy curly hair, wearing a polka dot shirt and skinny black jeans. He gives me a warm smile, as he gives the book back to me.

"Gracias" I thank the boy in Spanish.

"No worries" he chuckles in English, with an Aussie twang. He warmly smiles, before reaching to his Jean back pocket, getting his mobile phone out to answer a call.

"Sorry" is all the boy says, before walking off.

I stand there, all confused for a second, before then realising that I need to sign out of work. I sign my name, and head for the exit of the hotel.

My drive home is a quiet one, thinking about the curly haired boy in the reception area. Yeah he was cute, and smartly dressed. I chuckled to myself, hoping to see him the next day around the hotel.

***

"Two beers coming up" I smile at the young couple on their holiday. Its a busy down round the pool today, lots of new arrivals, after all it is the school holidays. I place the young couple their drinks on their table before heading back to the bar to clean some drinks. The curly haired boy has been on my mind all morning. Yes it was a brief encounter. Yes I thought he was cute. And yes, I wanted to see him again.

"Y/N, can you go to reception? There's an early check in" Andre asks.

I head to reception, and I'm greeted by a young women with black hair, and a tall blonde haired boy. They look very young, but cute together. As I approach them, I greet them.

"Welcome to the Hotel La Flora, my name is Y/N" I smile. I see Ed across the counter, checking the young couple in.

"Thanks Y/N, I'm Sierra and this is my boyfriend Luke". She smiled, her boyfriend Luke offering a hand for me to shake. Polite, I thought. Once they're all checked in, I carry their bags to the room on the top floor, our penthouse deluxe room. Normally only wealthy businessmen or celebrities hire this room. I open the door, set the cases on the beds and open the French doors to show the young couple the huge balcony. The view fell the balcony is beautiful.

"You've got a beautiful view here, perfect view of the beach" I smile, handing them their keys.

"Would you like any help unpacking?" I ask.

"No thank you Y/N, thanks again" the boyfriend Luke smiles, handing me a €20 tip. I widely smile at this very generous tip, making note of the generous offer.

"Thank you that's very kind". I smile, placing the money into my pocket. I walk around the rest of the apartment, opening the other doors to show the couple around, including the 2nd bedroom.

"Ah, Ashton and Kay will be just fine here I hope" I hear the girlfriend, Sierra say to her boyfriend.

"Yeah, I'm not sure about Kay though" Luke mutters. I hear a deep sigh from the girl.

"I'll leave you guys to it, I hope you enjoy your stay. " I smile, thanking them again for the tip, before shutting the door to give them time to unpack. I run down to reception, to gloat at Ed for the huge tip.

"Comeon that's not fair, I checked them in!" he moans, trying to take the money off me.

"Well maybe next time you carry your own bags!" I scoff at him, playfully sticking my tongue out at him, before skipping back off to the bar.

****

It's 3pm, and things have gotten a lot quieter around the pool bar. People are starting to head inside for evening plans. I grab a book, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, and read a few pages, before spotting a girl heading towards the bar. I set my book down, and greet the girl with a warm smile.

"Hello what can I get you today?"

"Tap water, make sure it's cold" she snaps, not even looking at me. I pore the girl a tap water, noting her tone. Rude, I thought.

"Thanks, sorry if I snapped at you, just been one of those day, you know" she sighs, looking at her phone still.

"I get it, it's OK" I say, not wanting to be nosy and ask what's happened. Before I can say anything else, she calls someone.

"I'm here, where are you?" she snaps to the person on her phone, before walking towards the door to the entrance of the bar. As she walks towards the door, a familiar face walks in, wearing a red t-shirt with skinny Jean shorts and Ray Ban sunglasses. I sigh, it's the curly haired boy from last night with the sign out book.

"Kay, you're early" he says, hugging the girl.

"Well I wanted to see you, is that so much of a problem?" she snaps.

"Not here, please" he requests, looking at me, before looking at the floor. He gently grabs her arms and they walk off. Dramatic, I thought. I continue to read my book.

Some people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them," I said.

"Right, of course. But you keep the promise anyway".

That's what love is. Love is keeping the promise anyway."

I deeply sighed at the quote in the book, before taking a sip of my ice tea.

"Are you Okay?" I hear a voice say. The voice startles me, as I spit out my drink over the counter. I can feel my face going bright red from sheer embarrassment.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry Sir" I say, running around to the back to get a cloth and wipe up the mess. I come back and see the curly haired boy looking at me and laughing.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have disturbed you during your book reading" he laughs, looking at my book. I continue to politely ignore him, clearing up my mess. I noted that my book was now covered in ice tea.

"Damn, guess I'll be needing a new book" I laugh, looking at the boy.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry Sir, it was very unprofessional of me to-" I apologise.

"No need... Um.... Y/N" he interrupts, looking closely at my name badge.

"Thank you." I awkwardly chuckle. There's a pause before either of us say anything.

"So.. Can I get you anything sir?" I ask, resuming my duty.

"Gin and tonic please" he responds. I head to the bar, and pour the man a drink. As I head back to the bar I note that he's taken a seat in front of my work station. Odd, I thought.

"There you go" I politely say, placing the drink in front of the boy. He smiled, taking a huge gulp of the drink. He sits there in silence, so I decide to make light conversation while cleaning a few glasses.

"So, everything okay?" I ask. For a few seconds he doesn't respond, he just stares into his glass.

"Yeah, just one of those days, y'know?" he says, scoffing under his breath, before finishing the rest of his drink. He lightly taps the top of the glass, indicating that he would like another, I head to the liquor counter and make him another one.

"I get what you mean, do you wanna talk about it? You wouldn't believe the stories I've heard working here" I softly reply.

"Maybe after a few of these ill open up" he cutely laughs. I hand him his second drink, to which he finishes all in one.

"Woah okay, take it easy yeah?" I say, slightly concerned.

"Nah its okay, I'm good with my drink. I remember having a drinking contest with Mike and Calum in LA after a gig... Good times." he reasurres me, asking for another drink. I make him another one, but deliberately put less alcohol in it, just in case.

"Oh so you're in a band?" I ask.

"Yeah, been together for quite a few years. Been touring for a few months so it's nice to have a break... Or so I thought" he mutters the last part.

"That's cool. What sort of music do you play?" I ask, continuing to clean glasses.

The boy pauses, looks confused into my eyes. I can't tell if he's mad at my comment or going to pass out.

"Oh, so you don't know who I am?" he asks confused.

I pause for a second. Shit, I've offended him.

"I'm sorry, just that music out here is a mixture and-" I panic.

"Hey no its okay! To be honest it's quite nice to not be well known" he smiles at me, taking a sip of his drink.

****

3 hours later, and the boy is still sat in front of me, drinking his millionth G&T, and I've joined him, having one or two won't hurt at work. He tells me his life story, the more drunk he gets. Turns out him and his band are quite well known globally. He tells me the awards they've won over the years, and tour stories. He tells me about the time one of the Jenner-Kardashian crew didn't get their band name right at an awards ceremony. He seems incredibly proud when talking about his band mates, who are also his best friends.

"So you've never really heard of us? " he slurrs a little.

I giggle. "I don't think so. Hum me one of your songs" I reply.

All of a sudden, he gets up on the bar stool and starts singing.

"Sometimes I’m feeling like I’m going insane

My neighbor told me that I got bad brains"

He is screaming at the top of his voice, standing on a bar stool in an empty bar. I'm crying with laughing at this, amazed at how he hasn't fallen off the bar stool. He says two lines of a song, that freezes, and hums.

"I-I can't remember how the rest goes" he laughs, climbing off the stool.

"That's okay" I laugh, wiping tears from my eyes.

"Did you enjoy that?" he laugh, shooting me a playful wink.

"I did actually, I'll keep an eye out for it in the charts" I laugh back. Suddenly his phone rings in his pocket. He groans, answering the call.

"Luke! Yeah I'm good, just in the bar. Yeah ill be up in a minute." he states bluntly, before hanging up. He stares at his phone, looking somewhat sad.

"Everything okay rockstar?" I chuckle.

He awkwardly chuckles back. "Yeah I guess just women stuff".

"Wanna talk about it? Funnily enough I'm quite knowledgeable in that area" I smile.

"Just my girlfri-ex girlfriend." he scoffs.

"Oh, wanna talk about it still?".

"She's here, on holiday wit-with me and my best mate and his girlfriend and I honestly don't know what. We're done, like done-done months ago, y'know?" he slightly slurrs.

"Yeah I get you" I sigh, remembering not so long ago I went through the same thing back in England.

"Why is sh-she here? She said she wanted to be mates and I agreed, but then she wants to acted all like a couple in public, but hates me when it's just me and her" he says. Im sympathetic towards this guy.

"Maybe talk to her while you're here, a little bit of sun and a different sight might work things out" I suggest, trying to cheer him up.

"Yeah, you're right. We're definitely done, I just want her to leave me alone basically" he scoffs.

"Sounds awful, but I don't want a relationship right now you know? I just wanna explore the world with my band, but also have something on the side, y'know?" he says. I stare at the harshness in his voice, yet I understand what he means.

I sigh. "um, yeah, I know exactly what you mean".

Just as the boy starts to speak again, the blonde hair boy from earlier walks in. He kicks his heals on the wooden floor, like in an inpatient manner.

"Ash, are you okay?" he asks.

The curly haired boy sighs. "Yeah I'm alright man, just needed a break. I just want her to go".

"Well Sierra is talking to her now, I think she's gonna head off so you can have a break" Luke replies. Luke notes my presence.

"Sorry, he hasn't been a pain has he?" Luke sarcastically asked.

I laugh. "I can reassure you sir I've had much worse."

The curly haired boy stands up from his bar stool slowly, trying to not stumble.

"Comeon, let's go have a nap" Luke says, putting his arm and shoulder under the curly haired boys armpit to support him.

"Do you need any help?" I ask.

"It's okay, he just needs a nap" Luke laughs.

"Thanks Y/N, see ya around!" the curly haired boy laughs. Luke walks off basically carrying the curly haired boy back to his room.

"She's kinda cute, right?" I hear Ashton attempting to whisper to his friend. I quietly giggle at this.

"Shh drunk boy" Luke laughs, helping his mate. They both leave the bar together, leaving just myself around an empty desolate bar, surrounding with 7 empty G&T glasses. I laugh to myself, thinking about the last 4 hours of chat we've had, hoping to have more with the curly haired boy sometime soon.

****

Part 2//

[emospritelet]

“God, I hate doing Secret Santa!” - KoL

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18]

AO3 link

Belle stared at the rippling surface of what was left of her gin and tonic, a pleasant buzz from the two she had already drunk flowing through her.  Across from her, Astrid and Dorothy were chatting about some film that had recently started airing, and which Belle hadn’t seen.  Alice had gone to the bar for the next round, with Zelena and Mary Margaret offering to help her carry the drinks.

The photo shoot hadn’t been the humiliating spectacle she had been dreading; the photographers had been extremely professional, and had made her feel wholly at ease.  Besides, the pose she had chosen had been sensual rather than smutty, she felt.  Time and the finished product would tell, but she felt a lot happier about the whole process now that it was over.  The girls had all agreed to go to the Rabbit Hole afterwards, and while a night out with Zelena wasn’t one she would have chosen, the woman had been reasonably pleasant.  All in all, the day could have been worse.

Gold was still keeping her at arm’s length, and she hadn’t been able to work out why.  Things had been strained ever since she had woken up in his bed, so perhaps it was simply that.  Perhaps that was too much of an invasion of his privacy.  She supposed she could understand that, although it hurt that he didn’t feel he could talk to her about it.  She had kept their interactions professional after that first meeting in the corridor; she figured he would come to her in his own time.  It was frustrating, but she certainly wasn’t about to force herself on the poor man any more than she already had.

“Here you go,” Mary Margaret set another drink in front of her, and slid into her seat.  “Too bad Ruby had to work.  It’s so rare that we all get a night off.”

“Gets even rarer around Christmas,” said Astrid.  “Glinda already put up the shift rota for next month, did you guys see?”

“She doesn’t mind if we swap shifts around as long as there’s enough cover,” said Zelena.  “Same with you assistants, I’m sure.”

“I could really do with taking New Year off,” said Mary Margaret.  “But I don’t mind working Christmas, if someone wants to swap.”

“I don’t mind covering,” said Belle.  “I could use the money, and it’s not like I have anything better planned.”

Mary Margaret beamed at her, and nodded.

“No date for New Year?” asked Astrid, and Belle pulled a face.

“Other than the disaster of a blind date Ruby sent me on?” she asked.  “I haven’t dated anyone since Will.  That must be - oh, I don’t know.  A year, at least.”

“Bad breakup?” asked Dorothy, and Belle shook her head.

“No, he was great,” she insisted.  “We were friends before we started seeing each other, and we’re still friends now.”

“But it didn’t work out?” asked Astrid sympathetically, and Belle wrinkled her nose.

“Not in that way,” she said.  “We thought maybe we could be more than friends, but when it came to it, the physical side of things just felt - weird.  Like kissing my brother would feel, if I had one.”

“That sucks,” said Astrid, wrinkling her nose.  “Did you keep in touch?”

“Kind of,” said Belle.  “He went travelling after college - sometimes I get an email out of the blue, but I haven’t seen him since we graduated.  Last I heard he was teaching English in Laos, or something.”

“Storybrooke’s not exactly overflowing with potential partners if you’re into guys,” said Alice, slumping in her chair next to Dorothy.  “That coma patient’s probably the best catch out there right now.”

“Alice!”

“I’m not even joking,” she said, swinging a boot up onto her knee.  “When the poor guy wakes up he’ll probably find a bunch of people’s phone numbers in his pockets.”

The others chuckled, but Belle noticed that Mary Margaret was blushing even as she smiled.

“What about you guys?” she asked.  “Anything fun planned for New Year?”

“Party at Granny’s,” said Mary Margaret.  “There’s one every year, it’s so much fun.  You sure you don’t want to come?”

“Maybe next year,” said Belle, taking a slurp of her drink.  “Someone’s got to work, right?”

“Well, I’m certainly going,” said Zelena.  “The calendar will be out by then, and I may as well make the most of it.”

“Make the most of it how?” asked Alice, reaching for her drink.  “From what you said the pose didn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“Well, perhaps not,” said Zelena, with a smirk.  “But it may have whetted the appetite of - someone - don’t you think?”

“Oh for God’s sake!” sighed Dorothy.  “Zelena, would you let it go?  Dr Gold is never gonna ask you out!  Not ever!”

“Did he tell you that?” snapped Zelena.

“No, but—”

“Well then!”

Dorothy rolled her eyes.

“Look, if you want to continue throwing yourself at him and creeping him out, be my guest,” she said.  “But you’re wasting your time.  He doesn’t date.”

“Well, that’s just because he’s so busy.”

“No, I mean he doesn’t date,” she said patiently.  “Not ever.  He told me so.”

“Oh.”  Zelena pursed her lips, and picked up her drink.  “Well.  I always did relish a challenge.”

The others groaned, and Belle shared a glance of despair with Mary Margaret before turning back to her drink.  She chewed her lip as the others started talking about their plans for Christmas again.  If Gold didn’t date, then pining after him made her as ridiculous as Zelena.  Was that why he had pulled away?  Had she been too obvious, too desperate?  The thought made her cringe.  Perhaps she should concentrate on building the friendship they had been developing, and try to forget her attraction to him.  Perhaps that could be enough.

x

Her head was aching a little the next day; Mary Margaret was surprisingly enthusiastic once she had downed a few vodka tonics, and had insisted on doing shots.  Belle was thankful she had limited her intake to one round; footage of the resulting table-top rendition of I Will Survive was already being shared on Facebook, and she was pleased it only featured Dorothy, Mary Margaret and Alice.

The hospital was relatively quiet; the last of the flu patients were being discharged, and the staff took the opportunity to take a breath and do a deep clean of the wards under the watchful eye of Nurse South.  Belle went through her mobile library, collecting the books that had been read and left in the wards and reading a story to the few children that were in hospital.  She then read to old Mr Prentice, a chapter or two of Lord of the Rings as he lay in bed with his eyes closed, his beard twitching.  She thought he had drifted into sleep, but when she finished her chapter and closed the book he opened his eyes and smiled at her, reaching out to pat her hand.

“Thank you, Miss French,” he said.  “My eyes get worse every day, and your voice is so lovely, it’s like being carried off by angels to a land of dreams.”

“I’m not sure an attack by orcs is all that pleasant a dream,” she teased.

He chuckled, a low deep noise that became a cough, and she helped him to sit up and poured him some water.

“The doctors say you can go home tomorrow,” she said.  “Do you have someone to help you?”

“Yes, yes, the sisters from the convent come in every day,” he said.  “I won’t be alone for Christmas.  What about you?”

Belle paused, setting down the water jug.

“Well, it’ll just be me and my Dad, I guess,” she said.  “Maybe a couple of parties with the girls.  It’ll be nice.  Quiet.”

“Friendship is as important as family,” he said.  “For those of us with no family, even more so, I suppose.”

His words made her think of Gold, alone in his big house for the holidays, and Belle chewed her lip.

“Did you ever have family?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“Too busy,” he said.  “Too wrapped up in my own world, in teaching the children of others.  Oh, I wouldn’t say I regret it, but it’s made me realise the importance of other relationships.  Good friends are essential.  Cherish the ones you have.”

Belle nodded, smiling a little as she thought of the friendships she had made since coming to Storybrooke, and how they were all developing into close, meaningful ties with people she truly cared about.  All except one.  Her friendship with Gold had stalled, and she wanted to give it a push, to get it moving again.  Her thoughts drifted back to the picture in his drawer, the well-thumbed glass and the gilt frame, the young boy with his dark eyes and dimpled smile.  Perhaps family would provide the route to friendship.  Perhaps he would talk about his son.

x

She got her chance the very next day after her shift at the hospital.  Jefferson had invited her to his daughter’s tea party, which he assured her would be promptly followed by wine and adult interaction once the children started doing their own thing.  Belle went along after her shift with Alice in tow, to shake hands with Mr White, Grace’s toy rabbit, and be served finger sandwiches and tea and little cupcakes.  Dr Gold accepted a cup with a bow and a grave word of thanks, which made Grace giggle, and Dr Whale was already trying to flirt with two of the nurses.  There were other children there too, Grace’s friends from school.  They soon lost interest in sitting quietly and drinking tea, and headed out to the garden for a snowball fight.

The adults were left in peace to chat, and Jefferson put on some music and opened some wine.  Belle took her glass out to the back porch, away from the bustle of the lounge.  She found Gold standing there and sipping at his own, a tiny smile on his face as he watched the children chase one another, kicking up clouds of white powder and squealing with excitement.  The air was cold, and she shivered a little.

“I’m not sure if it’s more peaceful out here or in there,” she remarked, and Gold turned his head to face her, a brief smile making his mouth twitch.

“Well, it’s certainly colder,” he said, taking a drink.

The weather.  We’re discussing the weather.  Better than an awkward silence, I suppose.

“At least we get a white Christmas,” she said brightly, and he sighed.

“With all the broken bones and injuries that implies,” he said.  “Whale and I have a bet each year whether amateur ice skating will bring in more patients than food poisoning.  This year I’m going with the ice skating.”

“Are you working on Christmas Day?” she asked, and he took a swallow of wine.

“I am.  You?”

“Oh - New Year,” she said.  “I swapped with Mary Margaret.”

Gold nodded, looking away again.

“I notice that those with families tend to want Christmas off work, and those with social lives tend to want New Year,” he said dryly.  “Of course, for those of us with neither, it hardly matters.”

Belle smiled, and took a deep breath, hand tightening on her wine glass as she looked at him.

“Tell me about your son,” she said gently, and Gold whipped his head around to face her, his expression suddenly, unexpectedly blank.

“What?” he whispered, and she put her head to the side.

“The picture in your nightstand?” she prompted.  “It’s your son, right?”

He was staring at her, and it was making her feel nervous, her heart starting to thump painfully in her chest.  Gold licked his lips.

“You went through my things?” he asked, his voice low and even, and she blinked.

“What?” she said, her voice wobbling a little.  “No!  No, it wasn’t that!  I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, it’s just - I was looking for a Kleenex, and I went in your drawer, and - and I saw the photo, that’s all.  I wasn’t snooping, I promise.”

He was still staring at her, and it felt as though something had crawled into her chest, a hard ball of nerves pricking at her lungs.  Eventually Gold blinked, and it was as though a spell was broken, and she could breathe again.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly.  “I have to - I have - I have things to do…”

He was gone so quickly it was like magic, and she was left in the cold, trying to catch her breath, and wondering what the hell she had done wrong.

x

Dr Gold was contemplating when it was that his life had started to spiral out of control, and after some consideration over the whisky he was nursing, he decided that he could narrow it down to one day in early November when he had been introduced to Belle French.  Up to that point he had enjoyed decades of - well, if not happiness, at least a sort of calm acceptance of his lot.  He had a worthwhile vocation that he enjoyed and that he was extremely good at, one busy enough to leave him little time to contemplate the emptiness of his life outside work.  He had just enough social interaction with the few people he could stand that he had never considered himself to be lonely, and he enjoyed shutting himself away in his too-big house with his books and his wine and his music.  It had all seemed perfectly acceptable.  Until she came along.

He curled his lip a little, taking a sip of the whisky as he leaned forward on the bar.  It had been two weeks since Grace’s tea party, and was now well into December.  The town was covered in coloured lights and brimming over with what felt like forced festive cheer, and it made him want to growl at people.  Drinking alone at Granny’s perhaps wasn’t the most productive use of his time, but it had been a long day and he figured he deserved a whisky.  For some reason he hadn’t wanted to go home and drink one alone in his study as he usually would, and he had been mulling over that strange fact ever since he had arrived and taken a seat at the bar.  He was sure there was a reasonable explanation for it, but his brain kept circling back to Belle.  For reasons he couldn’t quite understand, the house had felt empty since she had gone, the tick of the clocks too loud, the kitchen too quiet.  Gold took another sip of his whisky.  Perhaps he should get a cat.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the ache in them.  He should never have let Belle stay in his home; things had been awkward ever since she had left, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it, or indeed whether she had even noticed.  Her asking about Neal had thrown him, and he was aware that he had been accusatory, dismissive, almost rude.  But Belle still smiled at him and greeted him warmly, despite him appearing to lose the ability to speak in her presence.  Despite him saying the wrong thing whenever he did manage to find words.

He took another drink, feeling despondent, and the door opened behind him with a blast of cold air.  Gold scowled, glancing to the side as a familiar figure slid onto the stool next to him.

“Hey,” said Dorothy, draping an arm around his shoulders.  “Thought I’d make your Yuletide a little more gay.  You want another drink?”

Gold held up his glass just as Ruby came out of the kitchen.  She stared at Dorothy, blushed, and turned her attention to him with a wide smile.

“Same again,” he said.

“I’ll pay,” announced Dorothy.  “Can I get a rum and coke and a plate of cheese fries?”

“Sure!” said Ruby, a little too brightly, and almost ran back into the kitchen.  Gold shook his head.

“So,” said Dorothy, and he was amused to see that her cheeks were tinged pink.  “You all ready for Christmas?”

“Given that it’s a day like any other, I expect so,” he said, in a very dry tone.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna sit at home alone crying into your whisky,” she said reprovingly.

“Certainly not,” he said.  “I’ll have a perfectly pleasant day by myself, as always.”

Dorothy grunted, as though she didn’t believe him, but just then Ruby came back out, and made their drinks.  Her fingers brushed Dorothy’s as she handed it over, and the two of them jumped as though they’d been electrocuted.  The rum and coke swayed alarmingly, and Gold reached out to steady it, shooting Dorothy an amused look.

“Sorry!” said Ruby, wincing, and ran off again.

Gold turned his attention to his whisky, allowing Dorothy to regain her own composure.

“So,” she said, still blushing.  “You get your Secret Santa present picked out?”

Gold groaned, letting his head droop.

“God, I hate doing Secret Santa!” he grumbled, and Dorothy gave him a sympathetic look, patting his shoulder.

“Don’t stress too much about it,” she said.  “You don’t have to buy from the heart, it’s a work thing.  Just think about what the person’s interests are.  Or booze is usually a safe bet.  Whose name did you get, anyway?”

“Zelena,” he said flatly, and she slumped on her stool.

“Oh.”

“Exactly,” he growled.  “What the hell am I supposed to give her?  I know her, she’ll find out it was me, and anything I buy she’s gonna misinterpret as some sort of come-on.”

“Well, that’s true.”  She seemed to deflate a little, then brightened.  “A restraining order?”

Gold barked a laugh.  “Don’t tempt me.”

“No, I’m serious!” she insisted.  “I can get Mulan to print one off at the station.  We could add some tinsel, make it a festive fuck-you!”

Gold sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Who did you get, anyway?” he asked.

She drew out a small slip of paper from her pocket, waving it enticingly.

“I got Belle,” she said.  “Want to swap?”

Gold sighed again.

“I don’t think so,” he said.  “I think - I think I’ve screwed things up with her.  Not exactly a surprise, but there we go.”

“How so?”

Gold grimaced, turning back to his whisky.

“She - she tried to reach out,” he said heavily.  “And I did what I always do.  I pushed her away.”

“Wow,” remarked Dorothy.  “If I’d known all it took was a couple of drinks to get you self-aware, I’d have gotten you hammered the day I got here.”

He pulled a face at her, and she put an arm around him, squeezing him.

“Can you fix it?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he sighed.  “Maybe not, I don’t know.”

“Do you want to fix it?”

“Yes,” he said decidedly.  “I want - I want us to be friends.”

“Well, that’s a good start,” she said.

“I just don’t know how,” he added.  “Whenever I want to talk to her, something goes wrong in my brain and I say something ludicrously stupid.  Or offensive.  Or both.”

“Oh, man,” sighed Dorothy.  “That’s just being in love.  Trust me.”

“I’m not in love!” he snapped.  “I’m just - I don’t want to hurt her.  I want us to get along.  That’s all.”

She was eyeing him with an expression of supreme disbelief, but to her credit she said nothing.

“Okay.”  She reached for her drink.  “Why don’t you start with an apology?  Maybe some flowers or something?”

“Right,” he said.  “Yes.  I could do that.”

“Good,” she said.  “So that’s your task for tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed.  “Right.”

“Now you want to make me responsible for Zelena’s Secret Santa present, or what?”

Gold grinned, and fished in his pocket for the slip of paper.

“She’s all yours.”

[reject-princess97]

Spencer Reid-Criminal Minds (Part 7)

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7

*Three Months Later*

"Someday I'll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemon drops

Oh, way above the chimney tops,

that's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow

Skies are blue..." I sang softly as I rocked my son gently as he cried for his dad, who was away, working on a case, but would be back pretty soon.

"And the dreams that you dare to dream

Really do come true" He crying Quietened down slowly as I sang.

"If happy little bluebirds fly above the rainbow," I watched as AJ's eyes fluttered closed and my voice became softer as I lay him down his his crib.

"Why, Oh, why can't I? " I finished as I switched off the light and left the room hoping he would finally sleep.

I manged to clean up a little and finally sit down when I felt my phone buzz. I pulled if out to find Spencer was calling. I pulled the phone to my ear and smiled when I heard his voice.

"Y/N, hey, hows everything going? Hows Alex?" He asked immediately.

"We're both doing fine Spence, Alex's medication did his job and he's back to our normal smiley, happy baby boy." I told him. "Except when he 's missing you of course." I chuckle.

"I miss him too, both of you but t's OK, because I'm on my way home and I have the whole weekend off." He told me and I could hear the excitement in hi voice . "I'll be home in half and hour." He told me.

"Well, I'll try and wait up but if I'm asleep when you get home, don't be surprised." I laughed. Spencer chuckled and we said our good byes.

I lay my head on the couch and sighed as I let Doctor Who play on the TV while I snuggled one of Spencer's shirts. Something I did a lot when Spencer was away was wear one of his shirts and a pair of my PJ shorts, His shirts smelt just like him and it always calmed me and it seemed to relax AJ too.

*About 2 am*

I was woken by the sound of AJ crying, but i soon stopped and from the baby monitor, I heard Spencer talking to our son. I sat up and looked around to see I was somehow in my bed, my socks had been taken off and my duvet was wrapped around me.

I jumped when I heard my name from the baby monitor.

"Y/N, I know you're awake, so go back to sleep, I'll deal with Alex tonight." Spencer said, knowing full well I was up. I laughed and pulled my phone out and sent a quick 'I love you xx' text to Spencer before I fell back to my pillow, quickly falling asleep.  

*The Next Morning*

I woke up the next morning, snuggled into my boyfriends arms, My head resting on his chest. I smiled as I looked up to see Spencer passed out, his hair falling over his face a little, His mouth opened slightly and as I moved his arms tightened around me.

I lay there happily until I heard the quiet sounds of AJ's Coos, meaning he was awake. I very carefully, without waking Spencer up, stood from the bed and walked into the next room where I found my son, laying awake, 'talking' to his mobile that hung from above the crib, that was filled with bright coloured fish, a gift from Henry and Michael, JJ's Boys.

Well, good morning my beautiful boy, how are you this morning?" I asked as I lifted his from his crib and held him close. When he heard my voice he smiled and as I lift him up he let out a loud screech of excitement.

"Well, hello to you too." I laugh as I grabbed his favourite teddy, a small blue bare Jack had brought him when he visited with Hotch, I also grabbed his blanket that Spencer's mum had made him. It was grey with is name stitched in, well 'Alexander-James' as his full name was too long.

After grabbing his things I carried AJ  into Mine and Spencer's room where I lay him in between Spencer and I. I grabbed 'Peter Pan', something I was currently reading to Him. As I read AJ cooed and I felt the bed shift. As AJ let out a loud squeal I looked over to see Spencer was awake and was listening to me read to our son while he played.

"Hey!" He protested with a smiled as I stopped reading. "I was enjoying that." he sulked, making me laughed, coursing AJ to let out giggle too.

"Well, good morning to you too, Dr. Reid." I Chuckled as Spencer Carefully sat up in the bed and picked AJ up.

"Good morning babe." He grinned as he lent over and kissed me softly.

Spencer pulled away with a groan as his phone rang. He reached for it but I  dived over his legs and grabbed it. I smiled when I saw the caller ID read 'JJ'.

"This is Dr Y/N Prentiss, you've reached Dr Spencer Reid's phone, How can I help you?" I chattered into the phone. I heard JJ laugh.

"Good morning Dr Prentiss, is Dr Reid there?" She asked.

"He's with a patient at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?" I joked. I could feel her head shaking her head at my silliness as she chuckled.

"Well, I just called to see if him and his girlfriend were free to join me and the boys for coffee?" She asked.

"I'll see if I can reach him, hold please..." I said as I pulled the phone away from my ear. "JJ wants to meet for coffee...are we free?" I asked Spencer who laughed and nodded.

"Miss JJ, he and his wonderful, amazing, bad-ass girlfriend are in fact free to join you in an hour from now, is that OK by you?" I asked her. JJ answered yes and said she'll text Reid the details before we said our goodbyes and hung up the phone.

"You're and Idiot." Spencer chuckled as I climbed off his legs and pulled our son from is arms.

"Aww, I love you too Spencer," I smiled as he stoop up and walked off towards the bathroom.

"Well little man, we're going to see Aunt JJ, so let's get you dressed." I cooed as I picked AJ up and took him into his bedroom. I placed him on his bed. I waved over to his draws and pulled out a vest, a white shirt, a pair of black jeans and a pair of converse, baby size of course.

I changed him into his outfit, adding a bib, white with a picture a black bow tie and a black cardigan.

"There you go, all dressed and looking handsome." I gushed as I picked him up and carried him back to Spence and I's room. Spencer walked out of the bathroom and over to his closet and changed into a black shirt, black trousers and a black tie.

"Wow." I smiled as I pulled Spencer's shirt that I slept in, over my head. "You look like you're going to a funeral." I shook my head.

"Maybe I am." He told me as he pulled on a pair of sun glasses, obviously quoting my favourite movie, Walk The Line.

"Yeah OK Johnny Cash, how about you go make some bottles for your son?" I instructed as he laughed. He chuckled nodding as he walked over and kissed me before he picked up our son and walked out, leaving me to change.

I pulled on a dark green shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans. I added my favourite pair of converse. I let my hair fall into it's usual do before I grabbed  my phone and AJ's changing bag before I walked out to see Spencer strapping AJ into his stroller.

"I thought we'd walk, the cafe is only a few blocks down and JJ is walking too." Spence smiled when he noticed I was stood behind him. "Here," He smiled as he took the changing bag and handed me my coat.

After checking we had everything we left the house and began our walk to the cafe JJ had picked.

"Spence?" I said, breaking our comfortable silence as we crossed over a road.

"Mmm?" he hummed as turn his head to look at me.

"Am I doing the right thing, coming back to work I mean?" I asked.

"How do you mean?" He asked, place his hand over my back.

"Well, I love working for the BAU, you know that, but I'm not sure I'm ready to go back, to leave AJ." I told him, feeling conflicted. This was something I had been fighting with for a while and with it being so close, my first day back at work, I need help.

"Well, I do see were you're coming from, but I can't really help you. I mean  love Alexander, you know that, but the BAU is my job and it's what I'm ment to do." He told me. "But if you're not ready to come back, talk to Hotch, I;m sure he will understand." Spencer reassured me.

"Maybe, I'm just being silly." I sighed.

"Maybe you could talk to JJ about it, she's had two boys so she's done it twice. Maybe she can help ease your mind." Spencer offered. By the time our conversation had ended we were at the cafe and as we entered Spencer was immediately tackled by Henry who ran at him for a hug.

"Uncle Spencer!" He shouted. Spencer laughed and pulled I'm into a hug as I pushed the pram over to the table JJ and Michael were sat at.

"JJ, Hi." I smiled as she stood up and hugged me.

"Y/n, how are you?" She asked as she poked her head into the stroller to see AJ.

"We're both find, we missed Spencer a lot this week and AJ has been a little ill but he's fine. Nothing to worry about." I told her as I pulled AJ out the Stroller and handed him to JJ "You wanna cuddle?" I asked as she took him and smiled.

"You know I do."

Spencer ordered some food for us all, including Will who was on his way and soon we were all enjoying coffee and food, having a right laugh as we did.

"Hey, JJ, how was it going back to work after the were born?" I asked, she looked over and smiled softly.

"Well, I won't lie to you, it was hard, especially the child abduction cases. But it got better, knowing they were safe with Will or the Nanny." She told me, "You worried about coming back to work?" she asked.

"A little, just don't feel right about leaving him so soon." I shrugged.

"Well, to be honest, it will be hard at first, but it will get better and when the next one comes along it won't be any easier." She chuckled.

By now we had finished our coffee and the boys were bugging Will to take them to the park.

JJ asked if we wanted to tag along but I decided wanting to go home and spend some time with both Spencer and our son.

"So..." Spencer spoke up as we entered the house. AJ sound asleep. "Did JJ help any?"

"Yeah, she did. I mean, I love Alex, but the BAU is my family too and they need both the geek squad to keep them from sinking in cases." I told him, making his laugh. I took AJ out of his stroller and put him in his bed.

"Good, because I really miss you at work." he whispered, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Now AJ is asleep, I think we should take advantage of the quite." Spencer whispered seductively. I smirked and pulled him by his tie to our bedroom.

"Most definitely." I winked before closing our bedroom door for some well deserved and needed alone time with my boyfriend.

[enkisstories]

The android cemetery (Chapter 5)

Daniel was already at home and out of uniform when Gavin entered the two-story apartment.  The android was lounging on the couch in the floor/downstairs living room combo. He wore a short-sleeved button-up shirt in red and blue jeans, a welcome break from his preferred upper-class butler’s style. There was a bit of a snob in Gavin’s boyfriend, a trait the man had never expected to find himself drawn to. But attraction obviously followed its own rules, especially if one of the attracted in question didn’t even have hormones.

Daniel was holding his phone in one hand and tickling Loki, Gavin’s blue-point ragdoll cat, under the chin with the other. Another cat, a black Somali-mix called Thor, was lazing stretched out on the couch. The tom made sure not to touch the android. Thor accepted, even demanded, the occasional petting from Daniel, but he would not purr for the still somewhat new family member. Only after Gavin had closed the door behind himself did Thor jump down and proceeded to circle his returned “mama”’s legs. There was no competition from the other tom for now. Yes, viewed in this light that new biped had something going for it. The more time Loki spent with it, the more time there was for just Thor and Mama! Gavin’s lips formed a silent “Phone - who?”. The answer came in the form of Morse-code from Daniel’s LED: “Emmas-stop-therapist”.

Ah, right, Emma Phillips. That was something new. Not just was a new boyfriend living in the apartment, along with Daniel Gavin had acquired an extended family. Before Daniel it had only ever been himself, his cats and the parents at the holidays. There had not been a shortage of sex, but as the man had explained to Daniel last year, beings friends wasn’t a prerequisite for that. Boyfriends were a hassle anyway, because sometimes they turned out crime lord Jacques Villareal’s right-hand men and tried to shoot Gavin. Admittedly that had happened only once, but it still stung years later, because for the first time since college Gavin had actually harbored feelings for that one.

Of course there had always been Tina Chen and both of them had fully expected to end up together out of habit, because it wasn’t fun to be all alone when you were old and with only a slim pension, because androids had forced you out of employment. But here Gavin Reed was, in a steady relationship, and Daniel had promised to help Tina find a boyfriend of her own.

Gavin slipped out of shoes and jacket. Tip-toeing around Thor he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It contained mostly fresh ingredients nowadays instead of a pinned-on list of food delivery services across the city: Seafood for the organics and thirium sherbet for Daniel. For all their efficiency, androids were not perpetuum mobiles. Once a month they had to replenish their lifeblood. Many deviants, especially those who were openly living among humans, had adopted to the practice of consuming smaller doses during regular mealtimes. Daniel had tried that, too, but realized that he enjoyed watching his human eat a lot more than doing it himself. And of course there were those times when he was fed up with humanity and would gulp down the blue blood right out of the bottle to prove a point. Gavin got a can of beer from the fridge and a strip of bubble gum from a basket on top of it. Then he returned to the living room where Daniel had just finished his conversation. The man slumped down on the couch opposite to his partner and teased Loki with the bubble gum. Just when the cat jumped for it, Gavin tossed the strip towards Daniel, then caught Loki and put him on the floor gently. You absolutely didn’t want a cat on the sofa when you were about to cuddle feet to feet with your partner. In fact, you absolutely, positively did not want a cat with you when you were presenting your naked toes anywhere and for any reason.

Gavin then flicked open the beer. For a few precious minutes he let the world do its own thing. There was beer and tickles and the cats bouncing over each other on the floor and Daniel forming shapes out of his bubblegum that other than him only Gandalf had managed with his smoke pipe in the first Lord of the Rings movie. This was home, this was bliss, this was life going Gavin’s way for once. He had laid claim on what he had wanted and would not give it back anytime soon!

Eventually there was no more beer and the gum had went to a place where it would be the maid’s problem tomorrow. They smiled at each other.

“To quote Emma: Stupid therapist and her ideas”, Daniel remarked, referring to the talk he just had. “I swear, if she knew who I really was she’d want me to tell Emma!”

“Kid’s got to step in line”, Gavin replied. “’cuzz Captain Allen already called dibs on that.”

“The sucker did what?!”

Whatever peeve Daniel had with the therapist was forgotten over the news. Gavin recounted what had transpired at the DPD, finishing with: “Yumiko gave me funny looks all the time. She suspects I butchered the archive android for your new skin module.”

“Considering what you took out of there when all you needed was a bloody broom I wouldn’t put that past you, either!” Daniel said, laughing with that raspy industrial noise androids produced at such an occasion. It made him sound like a chain smoker. “But I wouldn’t worry overmuch. My files are in order. Everything’s there: no irregularities at first initialization, delivery to the cyberlife store, sold to my first owners, then you buying me from them after a year, then getting lended to the DPD and finally our accident on Lake Erie followed by the android museum buying me and putting me back in shape.”

“I dunno… I said on occasion that I found you in the trash.”

“That might not be a contradiction. My first owner might not have liked you grabbing for free what he had just thrown away and charged you.”

“I would have hit him, had he tried that!”

Daniel winked when he replied: “Maybe you beat him out of his senses, but the resulting hospital bill would not show up in my file, right?” He flung himself forward and into the other’s arms. “You know that between the two of us I am the good guy!”

That claim caused them both to laugh. They kissed, then laughed some more and then Daniel tried to caress Gavin’s nose with his. He was met with an unwilling “Unh!”. Maybe it was the plastic nose feeling weird, maybe it was the childishness of the act or something else entirely, but Gavin hated it. Daniel adjusted his position for them to end up sitting in each other’s lap, forehead to forehead, arms around the other’s shoulders.

“The Underground Airline’s best hacker doctored my file”, Daniel said reassuringly after letting some time pass. “The very best.”

Gavin sighed. It wasn’t a sound of pleasure.

“What?”

The human grabbed his partner. He pushed Daniel backwards a little, stared him into the eyes as if looking for some sense to be found in the space behind them and when he could locate none barked:

“Your “very best” is a gaming bot, for fuck’s sake! It can make mistakes!”

Daniel shook his head. “I know that’s what she initialized as. But now Yuki is tracking the author’s keyboard strokes as the woman writes the intermediate chapters for Beasts of Fire.”

To Daniel’s surprise Gavin displayed no sense of wonder at that feat. Instead he was looking as if he was about to get flayed alive.

“But doesn’t that mean Yuki has to read that stuff?” the human uttered. “Why would any sane soul want to do that?”

Daniel playfully hit Gavin.

“Your taste in literature is abominable!”

Equally playfully dodging the “assault” Gavin replied: “I do not have a taste in literature!”

“I noticed”, Daniel laughed.

They were sitting next to each other on the couch now, the wall-high balcony window in their back and the new TV on the wall right in front of them. Gavin bent forward, elbows on his knees, head tucked between his fists. Daniel to the contrary leaned back and placed his feet onto the couch table.

“Okay”, Gavin started again, “let’s say everything is in order as far as Dean is concerned. So what did Super Smash Sister do with Daniel’s file? Did she leave it as is, creating two androids with the same DNA, or did she delete it? Well?”

Daniel jerked forward. His gaze met Gavin’s as the other was raising his head and while the human shot him an angry “See? Told you!” expression, Daniel’s own slowly changed to one of terror.

There was no need to answer the last question. Since there was no more PL600 down in the archive, Yuki Villareal would simply have deleted the accompanying file. Probably the whole case file, too. While humans who remembered Daniel having been there were all around the DPD!

“Yuki hasn’t… she wouldn’t…” Daniel sputtered.

“Of course she would! Yuki also had to hack Camp Five’s security, all in one night! And for that stunt there were no Hank and Connor to help out with passcodes. With a real challenge ahead of it, the little gold farming bot went the easy route in your case!”

“Yes.” Daniel slowly sacked towards his partner, who slung his arms around the android and hugged him tight. “Yes, you’re probably right.”

The Underground Airline’s hacker had been in a hurry due to some real minor stuff like Daniel, Gavin and Markus having had a shootout in the backyard of Brindleton Bay’s movie theatre...

“It’s all Markus’s fault!” Gavin claimed. “Idiot homeschooled arts major…”

“Well, what do you expect? He’s Connor’s great-something grandfather! Think of everything that’s weird about Connor and then remember that he is the improved Markus!”

“Yeah.” Gavin nodded. “That explains a lot, actually.”

Daniel picked up a cat at random. He put it on both their laps and started stroking. After a while the furball started tearing into Gavin’s upper leg with dedication.

“I shouldn’t have said that about Connor”, Daniel mused. “He’s dedicated… loyal… By right I should fall head over heels for him, but… eww.”

“Eww, plastic prick”, Gavin agreed.

“But he’s also my friend”, Daniel insisted. “Now. Yours, too.”

“No way!”

“I was right about the five of us becoming a team, I’m right about this, too.”

“Whatever. Let’s focus on the missing PL600. We need a replacement and quickly!”

The moment he had said it, Gavin cursed himself for having voiced his thoughts. The easiest solution to their dilemma would be to buy a pre-owned PL600 on e-bay, switch it off, shoot it a few times, drop it off a roof, run its legs over with the family car and put the resulting mess into the archive quietly. And of course Daniel was well aware of that, because he said: “You are not thinking of what I think you are!”

Gavin could have slapped himself that moment. His too quick trap be damned! Had the detective just kept it shut, he could have gone through with the plan tonight, using an urgent call from work as an excuse. Daniel and Tina would have went to the basketball game the trio had planned to watch, while he’d corrected his mistake from one and a half years ago. But that door was closing even as Gavin had spotted it in the corridor.

“Does it matter what I think, if I don’t go through with it?” he growled.

Disturbed in his bliss Loki jumped off the couch. He proceeded to claw away on it to regain his mental balance, only to get his claws detached from the fabric by the two bipeds. The cat turned once around itself and then decided to chase Thor onto the windowsill.

“‘sides”, Gavin followed through, “people say I look like Kamski. If roles were reversed and you needed a dead Gavin, you’d beat in Kamski’s skull and sell him to Allen as me!”

“I guess so”, Daniel had to admit. “Unlike PL600s there’s only two of you, though.”

“Moot point. You don’t want me to make use of all those PL600s. Come to think of it…” Gavin’s face brightened when what he perceived a near-genius idea came to him. So, basically what he thought of all his ideas. ”What if it was already dead?” the man whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“Think old androids! The hand-me-downs, or the ones destroyed in accidents, any android that cannot get sold or gifted away anymore or whose owner is simply too lazy to consider any form of re-use – where do you think they all end up?”

“Ugh.”

“Exactly!”

Both of them voiced it simultaneously, one sounding appalled, the other triumphant: “The solid waste landfill!”