#letter writing paper australia

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vi.ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: guess who's not listening in her calculus lecture rn. also, wifi is acting funny rn.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

2020

There have been a lot of new protocols to follow. Social distancing. Wearing face masks. Races being rescheduled. Australia, China, Netherlands, Monaco, Azerbaijan, Canada, and France are canceled. Vietnam is postponed. The first race of the season takes place in the Red Bull Ring in Austria and Max gets a fucking DNF.

After exchanging Instagram accounts in December, Max has spent a normal amount of time stalking your feed. That's what you do when you’re trapped inside your apartment alone because of a global health crisis, you explore the online world.

It seems like you’ve been operating the account since your university days and a lot of your posts show a side of you that’s different from the manager he knows. He learns that you play billiards competitively. You've even reached an Australian tournament. He learns that you watch NASCAR and motocross and drift racing. He learns that you know how to drive a firetruck. He learns that you like partying in LA and you took up volunteer work in the LA fire brigade around your sophomore year. He learns that you’re particularly fond of taking pictures of the skies at different times of the day and the things you’re studying. He notices that you only post group selfies or low angle blurry selfies of you. You don't take pretty pictures of just you.

The oldest post is a photo of you offering a middle finger while smiling and filling up the gas tank of a truck. You're also wearing a red sweatshirt with the letters USC written at the front and skinny ripped jeans. If you swipe right, the next photo shows a picture of you and your group of friends writing on papers on the hood of the truck. Max sees numbers and scratches and crossed out sketches. Max notices a canned beer on your other hand while you press down on your scientific calculator buttons and shakes his head. You do not change.

The latest post is a photo dump of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in 2019. A picture of the aerial show, grainy zoomed in pictures of the garage, selfies with the mechanics, a bathroom mirror selfie, and a blurry picture of a beer in your hand from the after party. He presses like in every post, latest to the oldest.

you: fucking stalker

max: fuck you

max: *sent a photo*

max: nice teeth by the way

you: i hate you

you: *sent a photo*

you: ya think im the only one who looks ugly with braces?

Since then, Max’s relationship with you has considerably improved. The two of you spend a lot of nights dm-ing each other on Instagram and sending each other reels.

max: SOS

you: ??

max: I THINK THE STOVE IS ON FIRE

you: the stove is supposed to have fire

max: ITS ON FIRE

You and Max sit on the floor, back against the kitchen counter, chest heaving in quick breaths, shoulders bumping against each other. You hold the fire extinguisher close to your chest and your eyes are closed and your lips are parted a little. Max observes your side profile.

You're not a categorically attractive woman. But with the way the sun rays enter Max’s kitchen window and hit your face at all the right angles, you look like someone worth missing a sunset over. Max allows himself to stare and mentally tries to convince himself that this is a very normal amount of staring at one’s manager slash friend.

He’s crossing the line that divides friendship and something unnamed.

“Do you need me to call maintenance so we can get your stove replaced?”

Max nods.

“Yes please.”

You post a new picture on Instagram after a long period of dryness. Max gets a notification. He checks it out.

The caption reads: meet my full time dog and part time boyfriend

The picture is blurry and grainy but Max can make out your face perfectly. There’s a billiard table. Max sees a person in the background. A man. He's wearing a Williams shirt.

Is that a racer? Max immediately thinks of Nicholas Latifi. You and him are around the same age. But the blurry man in the picture doesn't look like Nicholas. The hair color and the build is different. George, maybe? He’s a year younger than Max. Do you prefer your men younger? Scratch that. That’s impossible. Max knows he has a girlfriend named Carmel or Carmen or something.

max: you have a boyfriend

you: youre fast

max: when did this happen?

you: uh

you: earlier?

Max resists the urge to hurl his phone across the room.

max: details [name]

max: i need details

you: nuh uh kid you havent unlocked that level of friendship yet

you: that's friendship level 8 ur still on level 6

max: i will hunt you down and force you to tell me

max: and don't call me kid i'm one year younger than you

you: id like to see you try

max: i think u forgot im the one who gave you the apartment where u live rn

You introduce Leo to Max a month later.

Leo is a British brunette guy with a face that one would consider mid in Europe but a ten in the US. He is one of the Williams mechanics. You mention that he used to do karting as a kid and even went up to F3 but he’s decided to discontinue his racing career because he thinks engineering and the technical aspects of a formula car is far more interesting than racing.

He’s basically the complete opposite of Max.

He’s a good guy, Max can tell. He’s well-mannered, he’s calm, he knows how to treat you right. Above all else, he makes you the happiest. You have the most genuine and beautiful smile on your face when he comes into your view.

He also handles your relationship very maturely. He doesn't demand. He understands that you work for different racing teams with different jobs and that means different priorities.

The weekly IG posts are also too cute. It looks like it came out of a Pinterest board.

Max will never tell you that he spends a good hour every time you post something with Leo in it like an obsessive freak. He tries to make sense of the feeling in his chest. Something green. Something ugly. Something he can't name.

Max should be happy that you found a guy as great as Leo. But he cannot, for the life of him, be fully happy for you. He doesn't know why.

“PR told me that you received a dinner invite from Kelly Piquet,” you state, sitting down on the empty chair across from him and putting your packed lunch on the table. You carefully lay the folded clothes on the other chair. Max deduces they will be the ones he’ll be wearing for the interview scheduled in about two hours. You already sent him the list of questions in his email but he hasn't opened them yet.

“Yeah,” Max says after swallowing. “She’s been sending invites since two months ago.”

“And you left her on seen?”

Max scoffs, “I didn't leave her on seen. I just…well, I saw them late and declined them politely.”

He knows Kelly Piquet. He’s aware of the history she shared with former Red Bull Racing now Toro Rosso driver, Daniil Kvyat. Max also knows she’s the daughter of Nelson Piquet, retired Formula One champion. He thinks it's rude to take the guy’s ex-girlfriend after he’s taken his seat in Red Bull.

“She’s interested in you,” you claim, opening the tupperware and quickly saying grace before digging in.

Max is not good with dealing with women. Twenty-three years old and he’s still girlfriend-less. But he knows how to recognize people who are interested in him. A significant number of women have tried their chances with him since he began racing professionally and he may have used you as some sort of getaway driver to get him out of all the awkward situations where he has to deal with women who are interested in him.

You have a very scary resting bitch face if you try hard enough. Its efficiency in scaring off people is proven to be, well, efficient.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Are you interested in her?” you question.

Max thinks about it. Really thinks about it.

“Do you think it’ll be good if I get a girlfriend?” he throws you a question instead of an answer.

“You're twenty-three, man. It's about time you start doin’ somethin’ about your empty dating history.”

Max nose scrunches but doesn't say anything because it's the truth. His dating history is hilariously empty.

“What’s your opinion of Kelly?”

“Uh, cool pussy, I guess. Don't really care.”

Max rolls his eyes, “You’re so crude.”

You shrug uncaringly.

“But I don't mind who you wanna date, man. I mean, it's your life. Date who you wanna date. Live the life you wanna live. All the jazz and shedazzle.”

Max accepts the dinner invite.

The 2020 season ends with Hamilton standing at the top, officially becoming a seven-time world champion. Bottas is behind him. Verstappen, like 2019, still stands in third place. Max vows 2020 will be the last year Hamilton becomes a world champion. The team doesn't hold a big afterparty like it usually does and Max flies home to Monaco immediately.

It's been months since he's started seeing Kelly and the woman is pleasant company. Her daughter, Penelope, is the most adorable human being that ever stepped on Earth. Max loves the little bean with all his heart and he himself is surprised that he’s capable of loving a little human this much. He’s practically convinced that he’ll be a shitty father one day. He does not have a good model figure to look up to when it comes to fatherhood.

Little P, Max learns, is obsessed with crocheted things. Max sees her little bags and little hats—all crocheted. Kelly says she pays their housekeeper to make things for little Penelope because she likes them so much.

Max decides he wants to learn how to crochet. He buys the material and learns through hundreds of Youtube videos. His first masterpiece is a bag. It's white and light orange. He shows it to his mum, who questions how on Earth did her son take an interest in a hobby other than racing or anything car-related. Despite that, she compliments it and Max feels confident that you’ll like it, too, now that he’s gotten his mother’s approval.

He finishes making it by the eighteenth day of December and he calls you, hoping he has the chance to give it before you fly down to Texas for the off-season. But you already left Monaco, just the day before and are now spending the first few weeks of the break in New Zealand with Leo.

“So it's serious?” Max asks you over the phone. He stares at the dark sky in Belgium. There's no stars tonight. Only the moon and it’s looking down at him like it's mocking him. Max wonders what the sky looks like in New Zealand right now.

“Of course,” you say.

“Well then, enjoy the holidays.”

“You, too, man.”

The call ends.

2021

Max sees you enter the Red Bull hospitality. The first thing he notices is that your shoes are brand new. Same model—the black and gold YSL Opyum heels, yes he knows the name because he searched it on Google—but brand new. Your bag is also brand new and it’s not the old cream-colored tote bag with peach prints. It's a cream-colored tote bag with Van Gogh’s painting—the Starry Night—printed at the front. You show it to Max excitedly and tell him that it's from Leo, the bag and the shoes, and Max fakes a smile the whole time. When he returns to his room in the evening, he throws the crochet bag he made over December in the trash bin. Kelly sees it but she doesn't question it.

“PR suggests that you film a Tiktok.”

Max groans, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Tell them no.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” you encourage him, shaking his shoulders. “There's a lot of dance trends right now.”

“I said no, [Name].”

“Max.”

You throw your hands on your waist, looking at him pointedly with your lips pursed. Max returns the stare.

He gives up after five seconds.

“Fine.”

You huff in triumph.

“But you’re doing it with me,” Max bargains.

“Oh come on,” you throw your hands in the air.

“Now you know how it feels. Tell PR that I’m not going to film a Tiktok unless you film it with me,” Max smiles cheekily.

You're not going to film a Tiktok video with him. He knows you hate filming yourself and posting it for the public. There's a reason why you avoided cameras as if it’s the sun and you're a vampire and had all your social media accounts in private.

You pull an unexpected move and you nod your head.

“Fine.”

Max’s smile drops.

You film a Tiktok using Red Bull Racing’s official Tiktok account. A simple dance. Max does not know the title. The steps are simple and it's easy to memorize. He believes he can do this fairly easily. You don't look like you’re having fun while memorizing the dance steps but you're not overly struggling.

You film the video in three takes. When Max sees the final outcome, he cringes. His long limbs look awkward as he performs the steps despite thinking that he’s doing fine while filming it. You, on the other hand, look fine.

You look good while dancing actually. There’s a certain grace that accompanied your movements.

“You dance good,” Max comments.

“It’s the Latina in me,” you claim, raising your chin a little.

Max snorts.

You show the draft video to the PR team. Without hesitation, they scratched it.

“Why?” Max asks, brows furrowing.

“Apparently, they're too tired releasing statements that we’re not dating. They're afraid that the Tiktok video would bring back our dating rumors,” you roll your eyes. “They’ve decided to just make you do a Tiktok filter game.”

Max does the one filter where he has to solve the simple math equations projected on the screen. He has to tilt his head to the side where the right answer is placed and he needs to do it quickly.

Max is not bad at Mathematics. He’s not good at it either. He’ll say that he’s just average at it like every human being on Earth.

You sit beside him, barking him the answers before his brain can even process and perform the required operations.

“60 points. That's not good enough,” he says.

You nod, “Damn right. You're not tilting your head to the right answer fast enough.”

“Maybe you're not giving the answers quick enough.”

The video gets more than ten takes. The two of you don't stop until you get the perfect score.

Monza is a disaster. To summarize: the 53-lap race is won by Daniel Ricciardo, who has now moved to McLaren. He capitalizes on a good front-row start and the crash between Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton to take the race lead. Lando, Daniel’s teammate comes in second with Mercedes' Valtteri Bottas in third. Max and Lewis—DNF.

Max doesn't remember the last time he’s been that angry and the anger doubles when he sees the seven-time world champion celebrate on the tracks. Max then decides that he’s going to be more risky, especially now that he knows how safe the car is. Max is willing to risk his life for number one.

Max lies in the medical bay and he hears voices outside. Too many voices. He’ll appreciate it greatly if the voices disappear. He's too angry right now that the noise of the outside world is too much.

“Max?”

The voices disappear and it's only you he can see, he can hear, he can feel. You're everything.

You said it. His name. It sounds even better than he imagined.

“[Name].”

After making sure he’s okay, you tell Max that you wish to go to Danny and congratulate him for winning. Max grabs your hand, unwilling to let go.

“You're not his manager anymore,” Max reminds you. “You're mine.”

He’s very much aware that he sounds like a child who refuses to let his older brother borrow his favorite toy but he cannot find himself to care. Screw Daniel.

You give him a long look but follows his demands anyway, “We’re gonna congratulate him later whether you like it or not. He’s our friend and he just got P1. We’re gonna be happy for him 'cuz that's what friends do. I’ll drag your ass to his hotel room if I have to.”

Jos Verstappen is not happy. When has he ever been happy with Max anyway? He calls Max after the Monza race and proceeds to yell because that’s all he ever does with Max. He yells. Max is embarrassed that he’s twenty-three and he’s still getting yelled at by his own father.

“Your Dad’s an asshole,” you stated after he ends the call. Max knows you heard his father’s voice even though he has not put the call on loudspeaker.

“Don't talk to my Dad like that,” he reprimands, though not unkindly. “But yeah, he is.”

You snort, “You okay?”

Max lets out a shaky breath, nodding weakly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You would think that after all this time I would get used to it but I don't know. It still makes me feel so uncomfortable and like I'm doing everything wrong even though I've been doing that for such a long time now and I've achieved so many things he asked for."

Your gaze softens and Max mentally begs that you stop looking at him like that. He does not want your pity. Pity is for the weak. Max is not weak.

You open your arms, “Rein it in, big guy.”

“What are you doing?”

“You need a hug.”

Max hesitates but he invites himself to your arms anyway. He allows himself to melt. In your arms, he feels like he's home and that he's good enough.

The breakup happens two race weekends later. Max is not dumb nor is he so emotionally indifferent that he cannot sense if a person is going through a breakup especially if that person is someone so close to him. He already knows there’s something wrong and he knows exactly what’s wrong and yet he still asks, “What's wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you say a little too quickly as if you already know that Max is going to ask the question.

“[Name],” his fingers circle around your wrist. “It's not nothing. Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?”

He wants you to open up. He wants you to say something. He wants you to share the heartache you carry so it won't feel heavy on your shoulders. He wants to be someone who’ll carry your problems with you when the world feels too big and you too small.

You sigh shakily, forcing a polite smile. Your hand comes up to squish Max’s cheek in between your palms and Max’s brows rise slightly at the action. Your hands feel cold and they’re trembling slightly and Max wants to point it out, but he sees how your lips wobble and his mind just blanks, “It's not important. You only have one thing to think about and that is to win. You hear me?”

Max considers marching to the Williams Racing livery and demanding for Leo Stark but he chooses not to. You won't want him to, anyway.

Max never realizes how horrifying blood is until he sees it dripping down the side of your head. He watches as your face changes from shock to realization to absolute anger. It’s like watching you transform from human to a rabid animal who wants to shed blood. At first, he tries to pull you away and calm you down. When he sees the girl’s boyfriend appear, Max joins the fight. No man is allowed to hit you. Not on his watch.

The higher-ups are not the happiest when they learn of what happened. The PR team is having a field day as well. Someone captured the event in video and posted it online. Max has been given a script for the video he’ll have to do to save his image but it’s written differently. Different in a way that the way the words are arranged feels odd to him unlike the way you write your scripts for Max. You write the scripts as if Max is the one who writes them. You write the script in a way Max will write them. Because you know him enough to know what kind of words he wants to use and how he’ll phrase things. You choose words that are easy on his tongue and you structure the sentences so that he can memorize them easily.

Helmut is the one who says, “She should leave the team.”

“If you fire her, I’m leaving,” Max decides.

Christian narrows his eyes at him, “You won't dare.”

“Try me,” he challenges. “I am willing to pay millions to leave if she leaves.”

The other teams want him, Max knows. They know he’s rising to stardom, a racer who can stand equal to Lewis Hamilton in the right time. Red Bull is too afraid of spitting out their star now. Not when Max is already giving Lewis Hamilton a big run for his money this year. Not when Max just showed the world that he’s capable of more than just being third place.

The wretched Hamilton fan decides to sue and Max calls upon his mother’s help to find the best lawyers to fight for you. Sophie willingly helps him.

Max is going to protect you, like you always do to him.

[joezworld]

I did a Christmas

I wrote a Christmas story. It is of considerable length. @mean-scarlet-deceiver helped considerably in its creation.

No, you don't get it all at once. Also, I'm not tagging it any differently because a lot happens in this! If you want to find out, you gotta read it. (And put tags in your reblogs so I can see what you think of it. Please.)

June, 1985

The mail came over the span of a month. It came as postcards, letters, overstuffed mailers, and packages that weighed “a bloody ton!”

They came from as near as Cumbria and as far away as Western Australia. 

The paper ranged from lined yellow notebook paper to cream-colored heavy cardstock, and everything in between. 

Letterhead was common: SCIENCE MUSEUM, LONDON. Sir Robert McAlpine Ltd, Hemel Hempstead. Hamersley Iron, Port Dampier, Western Australia. NATIONAL RAILWAY MUSEUM, YORK. Government of Ontario Transit, Union Station, Toronto. North Yorkshire Moors Railway, 12 Park Street, Pickering, North Yorkshire, YO18 7AJ.

Bluebell Railway, Sheffield Park Station, East Sussex

Vale of Rheidol Railway, Park Avenue, Aberystwyth

Great Central Railway, Loughborough

H.P. Bulmers Railway Centre, Hereford

-

They were typed and hand-written in equal measure. Some were obviously transcribed verbatim. Others had notes from the oftentimes unwilling stenographer peppered throughout. One contained a second sheet of paper, informing the recipient that the author had been so enraged that he’d insisted on writing the letter himself. 

The letters started off normally, 

“Dear Oliver…”

“Duck,”

“7101” 

“Montague,”

“Ollie…”

“Brother,”

-

“I hope that this letter finds you well.”

“I’m pleased to hear you’re alright.”

“Let me start by saying that I’d be there myself if I were able.”

“THANK GOD THAT YOU ARE OKAY.”

“This will be a short letter. A longer one may follow.”

-

But very quickly grew… boisterous. 

“I cannot believe what’s happened.”

“I’m blindingly upset on your behalf!”

“How dare he.”

“IT IS UNBELIEVABLE THAT HE DID IT, AND YET HE DID.”

“[I don’t know what she said next but it sounded really angry]”

“Trust me when I say that I am going to deal with him.”

“-it exceeds any kind of disrespect amongst engines that I have ever heard of.”

“I had never even assumed one of their kind could stoop so low…”

“With that out of the way, let me be the first inmate to welcome you to the asylum...” 

[interstellarsystem]

Little Plural Things

Systems can present in a lot of different ways. Sometimes, being a system can be loud and obvious if you're naturally more overt and/or out about yourselves as plural. Sometimes, it can be quiet and barely noticeable, but still there--just harder to see. Our system is fairly obvious if we're unmasked, but there are still things that escape even our own knowledge when we're masking as hard as we can. Little things that to us, remind us that our system is undeniably real. This is a post about those experiences we've had with barely-noticeable signs of a system.

Not every system will relate to these experiences, some might feel similarly about a few points, some may have others of their own entirely, some might not know or not have anything like the experiences we mention, and that's all part of being plural. No two systems are mirror images of each other. This is a post about our experiences.

1. Handwriting

Recently, we've had it brought to our attention that we have different handwriting. We don't write with a pen/pencil often, but we were asked to fill out a worksheet for our psychologist recently. She told us that whoever in our system wants to contribute to it can, and suggested that we signify who wrote what in some way--to which we chose different pencil colours for different headmates. We took the worksheet home and put things on it depending on who was in the front and if they wanted to.

It turned out, that some of our writing widely differs from each other. Out of the 6 people who wrote on the sheet, most of them were wildly different. Rift and Martin wrote the most tidily, with Rift's writing looking more "proper" and "adult". I (Vince) apparently am not the best at neat writing but I managed to be better than what our "normal" writing is like from what we remember. Merlin wrote messily like he was writing very fast. Mystery wrote with very large letters with sharp angles that overall made it look like it was written by a child new to writing. Which makes absolute sense. It's not a child, but its hands in-headspace are bigger than ours and that was the actual first time it had written anything on paper since it got here.

Somehow, it took until our psychologist pointed it out for us to notice how different it was.

2. Vocabulary Choices

Something we are able to notice sometimes is how our vocabulary and sometimes sentence structure changes based on who is speaking. Some obvious examples are our British headmates substituting "bloody" for other words as an exclamation and the difference between what some of our headmates would call a "chip" or a "fry".

Other times though, it's more subtle. Sometimes there's certain phrases that will just have a word or two swapped out and it does tend to point toward who is fronting even if people do use multiple of these. Some examples are:

"I suppose" vs "I think" vs "I believe"

"Kinda" vs "Kind of" vs "Sort of" vs "Sorta"

"Recently" vs "A bit ago"

"Sleepy" vs "Tired"

"Lol" vs "Haha" vs "Lmao" vs a keysmash (Even though these are text-based they are quite telling.)

"Quite" vs "Very" (Speaking of the above.)

Getting more subtle with them, some other examples are:

"You know" vs "Y'know"

"Uh" vs "Um"

"Uh-Huh" vs "Mhm"

Sometimes typing is influenced too. The amount of em-dahses within the text, the consistency of proper punctuation, how mechanical the text feels, how many run-on sentences there are and even how much tends to be written in one message/post can all point toward different people being in control.

3. Accidental Accents and Inflections

While accents are usually very obvious, we're generally good at masking them. Generally.

Due to us living in Australia, our headmates with accents straight from London don't stick out too bad when they're struggling to mask, but they are still noticeable to those around us who know we're plural. Passerby on the street or people who don't see us often don't think much of it, but certain people we are close to know that a few people in our system find it harder to mask and can tell when they're fronting very easily because of it.

Even if we are masking our accents properly, some parts of the way we speak still come out. Some of us end sentences on a higher-pitch more often due to what our accent generally has us do and some end more on lower-pitch notes when speaking. Some of us put emphasis on certain syllables differently. There's lots of little things that go into language that make it hard to completely mask.

4. Food Choices

More of a noticeable one, but something we tend to brush off as "just a bad batch" when it happens. Some of us like and dislike different foods and drinks, some of us to an extreme degree.

Mystery hates the brand of juice we normally buy and thought that it might've just been past expiry (it was not) or just a bad batch of the juice, but they're consistently the only one who doesn't like it.

Rave likes spicy food much more than the rest of us because they have a harder time tasting it. I on the other hand can't handle spicy food at all and am worse with it than the others in my system.

Some of us favour different brands of food and some of us might like/dislike textures of food differently too.

5. Default Facial Expressions

Different resting facial expressions are something we hardly notice because we don't look in a mirror often due to dysphoria. What we do know though, is that some of us just rest our faces differently.

I look more stern and tired than others. I have a bit of an angrier resting expression.

Martin looks a little bit more anxious due to being an anxiety-holder, but he also looks softer and kinder.

Crowley also looks tired but has less of a stern look and more of an almost blank one.

6. Body Language

This is one we don't know too much about because we can only get knowledge on this from other people, but most of our headmates have a different "vibe" by the way they carry themselves.

I end up seeming to-the-point and business-like.

Martin reads as being very anxious even if he's not always.

Crowley reads as smug.

Mal reads as if he's planning something mischevious and silly.

We've been told that Filigree just reads as "gay".

We're not sure what actions make us seem this way, but some of us can be clocked by others around us as fronting without even talking first. I don't know how people do it, but it's something in our body language.

7. Clothing Choices

A few of us have different clothing choices--Crowley still wears sunglasses everywhere due to light sensitivity and wears dark colours, I prefer to wear button-up shirts as opposed to more casual things, Martin prefers hoodies that are lighter in colour and Merlin prefers to dress in pink and black and more fluffy textures.

We don't have too many clothes overall so to others it does just look like we're cycling through our wardrobe, and sometimes we are, but there's certain styles some of us tend to lean toward more than others.

---

Some of these might seem quite noticeable, and maybe they are if you know we're a system, but people change a lot so once again some of this is much more subtle than it sounds. People who don't know that you're a system hardly ever notice, and if they do they put it to "having an off day" and leave it at that.

We wanted to take some time to appreciate those little things we find it hard to notice, though. And maybe it'll end up helping some other system realise how unique they are as individuals and help fight off the imposter syndrome like these realisations did for us.

[blossom-works]

Love Always Comes With Pain

"Hunnigan, patch me to Anastasia." The computer guru asks you why, but you tell her that there is no time to explain. Your eyes are frantic and your breathing is heavy. Hunnigan nods and types away at her keyboard. You quickly take an earpiece and put it into your left ear.

"Anastasia?" You tell the woman who you are and that you work for the federal government (without specifying which one).

"What do you want? Do you want to tell me how crazy I am for doing this to avenge my husband?" The woman spits with venom.

You shake your head "No" even though she cannot see you. "I'm here to tell you that I understand. I'm married and I can't imagine losing my husband."

Anastasia who was about to pour the virus down her gullot stops.

"Listen to me Anastasia, I can't imagine what you've gone through. I can't imagine the pain you felt when you found out your husband died, but I do know that he doesn't want this for you. He doesn't want you to take the path of hatred."

"What do you know? Your husband is alive! You get to hear him say that he loves you! I didn't get that! The last conversation we had was an argument about him not quitting his stupid job!"

"But he loved you! He loved you so much, Anastasia. In fact, before he went on that mission he left you a letter."

"What letter? I never got one."

You take the stack of two papers and hold it out in front of you. You take a nearby sticky note and write something down real quick and show it to Claire.

"That's because you disappeared before the authorities could give it to you." And then, you start reading the letter.

"My dear lily," Hearing the nickname only her husband called her broke Anasatsia's heart.

"If you're reading this, then that means that I am no longer part of this earth. I don't want you thinking too much about my death. I want to let you know that I love my job and I would do it all over again even if it meant my death. If I were to go back in time though, I would've taken the time to listen to you and to tell you that I love you. I regret how we left things off.

Don't cry too much okay, Lily? And don't hate the agency too. If we don't do our jobs then the whole world is doomed. As much as I loved my job and my title, they mean nothing compared to you. My greatest honor in life was being able to call myself your husband, and my greatest accomplishment was calling you my wife.

I left some money in a separate account. I'm sorry that I kept that from you, but I created it for this exact case. Why don't you use that money and go on that trip we always talked about. The one in Australia? Seeing so many damn kangaroos that we end up becoming them. You should go, for the both of us.

It's time that I say goodbye Lily. It doesn't matter where you go, or if you fall in love with someone else and have that family you've always wanted, I'll always be with you. You will never be alone. I love you, Lily."

It took you everything in your power not to break down while reading the letter. Your heart truly breaks for Anastasia. The woman had nothing before meeting Jared. No living relative or children. When Jared died, Anastasia had nothing to keep her grounded.

In the background, you can hear some shouting and the sound of a door being broken down. Heavy boots hitting metal and guns cocking. With a broken voice, Anastasia asks you, "Did he really write that?"

"Yes...He wrote this letter for you Anastasia." You do not know what happens in the next two minutes because Anastasia tossed her phone aside, but then Claire came running in.

"You guys! They have Anastasia Boyette in custody and the vile of the virus."

Hunnigan cheers but it falls dead in your ears. You clasp the edge of the desk and take in a series of deep breaths. You try your best to blink the tears away but one water droplet manages to escape. Your two friends ask if you are okay and you just nod your head. You hand the letter to Claire and ask if she can personally hand the letter to Anastasia when time permits.

Later in the day, you hear the front door open and boots being taken off.

"Babe?"

Huddled on the couch you tell Leon where you are. When they successfully captured Anastasia, you immediately went home. You did not feel like celebrating this win. Leon comes around the corner and makes his way to you, but you beat him to it.

Seeing your husband brings a wave of emotions to you. Your arms wrap themselves around his torso and you bury your face in his chest. Leon thinks that you just miss him a lot and jokes that he should leave more often if this is the greeting he gets. You say nothing. You do not even laugh. Instead, you cry. Feeling his shirt getting wet, Leon asks you what is wrong.

"What's wrong sunshine? Why are you crying? Are you hurt? Did something happen?" Leon cups your cheeks and tilts your head up. His heart clenches at how defeated you look. Again, he asks if anything happened but you cut him off.

"I don't care." Your statement stumps Leon a bit. "I don't care where you go in this world to do God knows what because you have to. I don't care about that. I don't care how long it takes. I just...I just want you home." Your voice cracks.

Hysterically, you continue spilling everything you feel. "I don't care how you do it. Just come home. Do whatever you have to do. Shit, I don't care if you have to lose a limb or two. An eye. I don't care if your body is scorched or if you end up paralyzed for the rest of your life." By now your face is wet with tears. "I don't care Leon...I don't care about any of that. I just want you to come home to me. I want you home."

When you finish, you are completely overwhelmed with emotions. Leon shushes you and kisses your head. He wraps one arm around your back and cups the back of your head. Leon tenses the muscles in his arms to hold you even tighter. Soothingly, Leon rocks your bodies while carding his fingers in your hair.

Leon always believed that he would not survive this world without you. That if he ever lost you he would go insane and might even become the very people he is tasked to stop. Leon still believes this, but he realizes that this way of thinking is selfish. He forgot about you. He forgot about the scenarios when you lose him, not the other way around. Leon realizes that it is not just you who needs to live for him, but that he needs to live for you. The both of you would be empty shells if you lost the other. Your hearts just cannot work if they lose their reason to pump.

---

This idea randomly came to me and I couldn't let the opportunity pass, so please excuse the sloppy work.

FYI, I teared up thinking about this and again when I wrote it.

[tofuart]

It’s an Aerogram!

Do you remember aerograms?  Aerograms were a single sheet of paper with gummed edges that had to be folded and sealed.   No enclosures were permitted, and you could not even use tape to seal them.  The cost was less than sending an airmail letter.   

In 1985, aerograms came franked with 36¢ postage.  It cost more than sending a postcard via airmail (33¢) but less than an airmail letter (44¢). The cost difference today seems quite insignificant even considering it was nearly 40 years ago.  But when you’re a student, you’ll always do something to save a few cents. 

You could fill the aerogram with as much writing as you could fit — write small or better yet, use a typewriter.  The rule was you just couldn’t put anything inside an aerogram. 

In the 1990s, as more people started having access to email, the aerogram was destined to become obsolete.  The U.S. Postal Service discontinued them in 2006.  In Britain they lasted until 2012. Very few countries offer them anymore. Australia still has them for sale.  At a recent San Francisco Correspondence Co-op meeting I found these unused aerograms on the swap table. I knew I had to take them to do a series of mail art. I wonder if some of my recipients will even know what aerograms are.

[not-poignant]

Merch Tier Revived!

As of this month, I've officially revived the Vexteria tier on Patreon and Ream as a Merch tier :D

This is the one you're looking for:

Memberships at Ream

Memberships at Patreon

I've been thinking about it for like a year and I've finally figured out a way to do it without breaking my brain (or the bank) and handling overseas postage.

While there are other bonuses in this tier, I've finally figured out how to get around overwhelming postage costs with twice-yearly drops of merch to those who subscribe for 4 consecutive months in the Evan & Vexteria tier within that period.

This is what shipped out to followers in the second half of 2023!

x 2 notebooks (lined) + postcards (with recycled paper envelopes) + vinyl stickers + a signed personalised individual letter. In this first instance, I am also the artist of this merch.

Here's me preparing everything :D

Each merch shipment will be different items and different themes - sometimes fanart, sometimes quotes, or focuses on different stories. The items can individually change too. It might be journals, more varied stickers, other forms of stationary, enamel pins, and more.

What do you get in this tier?

In this tier you get access to everything. All the early access, the merch, you get credits in all future books (which, with publishing hopefully kicking off in 2024 means seeing your name in print a fair bit!), and see any other extras I choose to share.

Why 4 consecutive months to be eligible for that 6 month drop?

To cover overseas shipping costs, which start at $20, and to also cover the raw cost of the merchandise, and also still be able to make an income off Patreon or Ream in this tier.

I like the look of an older merch bundle, can I get that instead?

Only if there's stock left over for that! And you can't get both at the same time, so if I can make a bundle based off past merchandise for you, it will be in lieu of the current bundle.

How is it shipped? How long does it take?

It's all shipped super safely. Before I worked as a writer, I worked as an artist selling fragile traditional art pieces. I've shipped over 500 worldwide. Your merch comes in a water resistant plastic sleeve that is sealed and very durable, and that goes into a thick envelope that has bubble wrap incorporated into it to make sure everything arrives safe and sound, even in inclement weather.

Because I'm shipping from Australia, items can take 2-6 weeks to arrive.

Could you ever send merch more often?

Not at the current price/s of this tier! Many overseas / non-US writers don't actually offer merch drops like this at all, and offer digital items, or only do Print-on-Demand which means nothing can be as personalised as writing you a letter of gratitude and celebration of your awesomeness.

Doing it this way means I can put a personal touch in there, and bundle everything, and know that everything's shipping safely with materials I really trust. :) It also means I can inspect every single item personally to make sure it's up to my standards before it goes to you!

Where do I check this out?

Go have a look at the memberships over on Patreon and Ream! You want the Vexteria & Evan tier. :D

Memberships at Ream (You can join for free here and follow me here without subscribing and just get a feel for it first!

Memberships at Patreon

--

A huge THANK YOU to the people who have been on this tier for ages even without these kinds of rewards. Your support is so incredibly invaluable, and I can't wait for you all to receive the first Augus & Gwyn themed merch drop. :D Y'all made this possible, and I appreciate you so much.

--

If anyone has any questions, hit me up! I'm super hyped for this. I fully understand if it's not something folks can afford, and I'm hoping to find a way to make merch more widely available in time, so that folks don't have to miss out, but until then, we have the Merch tier back up and running for the first time since about 2014!

Things like this keep the lights on, and keep the stories coming out to you over time, and more than anything, y'all have no idea how much fun I had writing individual letters to the folks in this tier, celebrating what I really loved / thought was awesome about them.

All right, thanks for your time, I'll get back to posting chapters now :D

[mariana-oconnor]

The Empty House pt 1

Now, in the hour of our greatest need, a hero rises to answer the call. Our dear friend John Watson provides food for our reading appetites and bravely returns to write the tales of his dearly departed* partner, Sherlock Holmes.

*all facts correct at time of writing

You may be forgiven for assuming that my silence indicated that ‘The Final Problem’ truly was the end of my association with Sherlock Holmes, and indeed of the man himself. The passage of time and many subsequent tellings of the tale has not diminished me joy in saying that it was not so.

WHAT??!

No, seriously though, the fact that Letters from Watson is going with the conceit that Watson knew when he sent the email that Holmes wasn't dead and then just went radio silent for three weeks is fucking hilarious. It's what Holmes would have wanted. I mean, he's not dead, but even so. I love the dramatic bitch energy here.

It was in the spring of the year 1894

I feel like this is as definite and accurate a date as we're ever going to get in these stories.

Also, I have definitely read this one before, multiple times. Partially for my own enjoyment when I was younger, but also during my Sherlock fandom phase where I needed to verify some original canon so I could mutate it terribly for my own personal amusement.

I definitely remember whodunnit and how this time, but I'm not sure if that's actually going to be the mystery.

Only now, at the end of nearly ten years,

So this is a story set in 1894, written in 1903, read by us in 2023.

I should have considered it my first duty to have done so had I not been barred by a positive prohibition from his own lips, which was only withdrawn upon the third of last month.

So Holmes stayed 'dead' officially for 13 years? I mean, I guess this is also sort of ACD saying 'please stop sending me death threats. Here it is. He was never really dead. I surrender I surrender.'

As I read the evidence at the inquest, which led up to a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown

Totally read this wrong at first as though the murder was against the person or persons unknown. 'We know a murder has taken place, but we don't know who, or even if it was only one person or multiple. But it was definitely murder.' But no, it's the verdict that's against them, not the murder.

There were points about this strange business which would, I was sure, have specially appealed to him, and the efforts of the police would have been supplemented, or more probably anticipated, by the trained observation and the alert mind of the first criminal agent in Europe.

It is pretty tragic to think of Watson reading the paper and sighing to himself as he thinks of how Holmes could have helped. But then also casually throwing shade at the police officers, also in tribute to Holmes' memory.

Adair's mother had returned from Australia to undergo the operation for cataract

Health tourism has a long and varied history. In a time before aeroplanes that's a long way to go and a long time to take for surgery. Did Australia really not have any opthalmologists worth their salt at this time? I mean, I don't know how good even the surgeons in London would have been with that sort of surgery, it's a little more finesse than amputations and they had enough difficulty with them. Got to assume that if you're going to take that long travelling for the surgery, there's got to be a reasonable improvement in your chances for survival.

OK, wow, the history of cataract surgery is long and I do not advise you to look it up if you are in any way squeamish about or squicked out by eye stuff. But apparently the earliest cataract surgeries known are in the 5th century BC, although modern surgery methods didn't seem to really get good until around the 1950s. Basically yes, infection was very possible and her vision would never be the same again.

That was very educational and quite unpleasant.

Ronald Adair was fond of cards, playing continually, but never for such stakes as would hurt him. He was a member of the Baldwin, the Cavendish, and the Bagatelle card clubs. It was shown that after dinner on the day of his death he had played a rubber of whist at the latter club.

I know it says that he never played for stakes that would hurt him, but I feel like being a member of three different clubs is a sign of something. Also, the fact that he recently broke up with his fiancee really needs to be relevant later because I cannot imagine why it would be included if not. At least as a red herring.

Mr. Murray, Sir John Hardy, and Colonel Moran

I wonder which of them is important? Clearly it must be Mr Murray. Absolutely could not be Colonel Moran, who is a colonel and therefore a respectable member of society who would never be associated with any crimes.

I stg ACD had some sort of beef with a colonel at some point in time. That's the only possible explanation. OTHER RANKS ARE AVAILABLE.

She had lit a fire there, and as it smoked she had opened the window.

They need their chimneys checked. Where are the chimney sweeps? I was under the impression that Victorian London was full of chimney sweeps. Was I lied to? Shove a small child up that chimney at once!

The door was locked on the inside, and no answer could be got to their cries and knocking. Help was obtained and the door forced. The unfortunate young man was found lying near the table. His head had been horribly mutilated by an expanding revolver bullet, but no weapon of any sort was to be found in the room.

Locked room mystery! Locked room mystery! Locked room mystery!

The window is open, but this is the second floor, and it's worth noting for any American readers, that in the UK the second floor is one higher than you think. We have ground floor, first floor, then second floor. So that's a pretty high window to reach.

(Unless there was already a small child lying in wait up the chimney...)

A minute examination of the circumstances served only to make the case more complex. In the first place, no reason could be given why the young man should have fastened the door upon the inside.

Sometimes people just lock doors. I automatically lock doors behind me sometimes. My brain is just like 'ooh, lock!' I made my flatmate at university think I hated her because I used to lock myself into my room, but I just... be like that.

There was the possibility that the murderer had done this and had afterwards escaped by the window. The drop was at least twenty feet, however, and a bed of crocuses in full bloom lay beneath. Neither the flowers nor the earth showed any sign of having been disturbed, nor were there any marks upon the narrow strip of grass which separated the house from the road.

So I know how this goes, but I feel there is a very real alternative solution to this puzzle that involves a circus troupe, an archer and a tightrope walker. Not sure how they'd get the tightrope back, but that can be sorted out in editing.

Again, Park Lane is a frequented thoroughfare, and there is a cab-stand within a hundred yards of the house.

Fine, people would probably notice the tightrope walking clown...

^ This guy could do it, is all I'm saying. (Although he would definitely use more than one bullet...)

since, as I have said, young Adair was not known to have any enemy, and no attempt had been made to remove the money or valuables in the room.

No one who gambles that much and consistently wins can be entirely enemy-free, that seems unlikely.

As I did so I struck against an elderly deformed man, who had been behind me, and I knocked down several books which he was carrying. [...] With a snarl of contempt he turned upon his heel, and I saw his curved back and white side-whiskers disappear among the throng.

Oh hai, Holmes. I'm not 100% that this is Holmes but lbr, this is Holmes. The snarl of contempt and abrupt about turn is totally to conceal his identity. Also I want to read The Origins of Tree Worship is it a real book? I feel like it has the potential to be the basis for a decent fantasy book.

but the window was entirely inaccessible, since there was no water-pipe or anything which could help the most active man to climb it.

I had not been in my study five minutes when the maid entered to say that a person desired to see me.

Drum roll please

I moved my head to look at the cabinet behind me. When I turned again Sherlock Holmes was standing smiling at me across my study table.

Certainly a grey mist swirled before my eyes, and when it cleared I found my collar-ends undone and the tingling after-taste of brandy upon my lips. Holmes was bending over my chair, his flask in his hand.

This surprise reveal brought to you by:

Brandy!

If Brandy doesn't save you, at least you'll die drunk!

“My dear Watson,” said the well-remembered voice, “I owe you a thousand apologies. I had no idea that you would be so affected.”

No.

Shit.

Sherlock.

Yeah, totally unbelievable that your bff who has thought you were dead for two years and probably blames himself at least somewhat for falling for the obvious ruse and leaving you alone on the cliffside to face your demise, might POSSIBLY be A LITTLE BIT affected by YOU RISING FROM THE DEAD BEFORE HIS EYES.

You are such a dramatic little chaos gremlin and it's great, but a truly spectacular lack of forethought here.

"Now, my dear fellow, in the matter of these explanations we have, if I may ask for your co-operation, a hard and dangerous night's work in front of us. Perhaps it would be better if I gave you an account of the whole situation when that work is finished.”

Casually rolls back into town, greets bff. 'Like, I could tell you how come I'm not dead, but instead we could both risk our lives first... what do you think?'

"I had no serious difficulty in getting out of it, for the very simple reason that I never was in it.”

A cliffhanger - literally??

Disappointed we only got two synonyms for the falls though: "awful abyss" and "dreadful chasm" I was hoping for some other ones. "merciless maw", "terrible void", "cruel crevasse", "fell fall", "godawful gap". Hopefully some more can be shoehorned into the next bit.

[yuraimi-lee-bunny]

Honestly, my passion for Carmen Sandiego and Red Crackle has never ceased, but I was too busy with various little things that I didn't have time to share. But I finally have time, I read a BEAUTIFUL Red Crackle fanfic, so I have a lot of inspiration to share little ideas and crossovers.

1.- I have had this headcanon/crossover since the beginning of this year and I love it! And it may sound very strange but I don't care, here I go: I started watching Bluey at the beginning of this year, I love the Heeler family and since I found out that they're australians I couldn't help but think that Chilli and Bandit would adopt Gray. Gray would love his sisters Bluey and Bingo.

2.- This is perhaps more of a... VERY vague idea but, I find it curious that Gray is an orphan while Chilli suffered a miscarriage, thus losing her first child (it's confirmed by the creator) That has sometimes led to thinking that Gray is the long lost son of Chilli and Bandit. I know, that sounds crazy, but I find Bandit and Chilli's personalities to be similar to some that Gray has.

3.- This is more of a fanfic idea I had two years ago that I didn't get a chance to write, but I want to give some context on the idea at least:

I had the plan of a fanfic where the worlds of Carmen Sandiego and Blookyn Nine Nine were united. Where Amy Santiago was actually not the only woman in her family or the least of they. The Santiagos had a girl named Carmen Santiago, but she was the most rebellious of all. Unlike her parents and family, Carmen had her own convictions and she didn't like that pleasure of having to compete to be the best brother (she knew she was the best), much less being SO organized or SO disciplined as her sister, Amy. She even learned to steal on her own, which made her parents feel ashamed and her male brothers angry because Carm always hid his belongings from them (except Amy. She liked to tease Amy by calling her "nerd" but deep down she loved her a lot) The only thing in common that Carmen and her family had, was wanting to be a police officer, but again, under their own rules. In summary: The Santiagos had enough of Carmen when she turned 18 and they wanted to put limits on her, to the point of threatening to take her last name and basically kick her out of the house. Carmen took it seriously and she did it all by herself. She left the papers at the house and said please NEVER say that she was a Santiago again, she wasn't going to tell them where she was going to live or the new name she had given herself. The only one who was hurt by her departure was Amy, because although she cared too much about her and her black sheep attitude (nickname that she earned from her entire family) she admired her a lot and she felt attached to her. A year later, Amy received a letter from someone named "Carmen Sandiego" to find out that she was her younger sister. Carmen only sends her letters very occasionally, but still, she's appreciated by Amy and knows that her younger sister can take care of herself. Although sometimes, she has rarely been caught by the police for robbery, which worries Amy and when she goes to see her, she's greeted with the notification that Carmen managed to escape from the police station. Out of respect for her sister, Amy has never mentioned her existence, taking the role of being "the only daughter of the Santiagos, and the youngest".

On the other hand, Jake Peralta discovers that he has a younger half-brother, in Australia! Yes, although his father had mentioned to him that he had half-brothers and half-sisters scattered across the United States (and now apparently in other parts of the world) at the last minute, his father informs Jake that he must pick up his younger brother from the airport, since his mother has died and no one in the mother's family accepts him as part of the family. Jake is very excited about this, because for the first time he would meet a brother and he wanted to be a big brother figure for him (and yes... Jake practiced his lousy Aussie accent) Jake only knew his name was Graham, but on the sign it just said "My Aussie younger half-brother" (he didn't put his name because it didn't fit on the sign) While waiting, he noticed something like the good detective he is: a young man was helping a person with his luggage, but with great agility he had stolen the man's wallet. Jake approaches him saying in a low voice "please return the wallet, or no nachos and beer for dinner today, mate" Yes, Jake noticed by the way he spoke that he was Australian, and by certain features that he was from the Peraltas according to In Jake's eyes, Jake was worried that they could be very polar opposites simply because he's a detective and his Aussie brother a thief.

Obviously, there would be Red Crackle, the Red team, the 99 team, VILE, ACME, action and comedy, but I never had the time to write it and since English isn't my forte, the truth only stays in my head many scenes and beautiful moments.

And that's it! Sorry for my long post and if you read it all, I really appreciate it! There is a Red Crackle fic narrated by Gray that if I wanted to do, it would be a one-shot with an optional crossover epilogue, but I hope I can finish it hehehe.

[egyaneknowledge07]

overview Of IELTS #Egyaneknowledge

Overview of IELTS # Egyaneknowledge The International English Language Testing System, or IELTS, is a standardized test for non-native English speakers who want to study, work, or live in English-speaking countries. Recognized by over 10,000 institutions worldwide, IELTS is often a prerequisite for university admission, job opportunities, and immigration. This article covers everything you need to know about the IELTS exam, its structure, preparation tips, and how it can be your gateway to studying abroad.

What is IELTS?

IELTS is a test that assesses the English language skills of non-native speakers. It’s jointly managed by the British Council, IDP: IELTS Australia, and Cambridge Assessment English.

The exam is available in two formats:

1. Academic IELTS – Designed for those applying to universities or higher education institutions in English-speaking countries.

2. General Training IELTS – Intended for individuals planning to migrate to English-speaking countries or enroll in non-academic training programs.

Each version tests your ability to communicate in real-life situations and ensures you have the skills needed to succeed in an English-speaking environment.

Why Take the IELTS?

For students and professionals, IELTS is often a critical step in their journey to studying, working, or settling abroad.

Here are a few reasons why taking IELTS can open up new opportunities:

1. Global Recognition – Over 140 countries and 10,000 institutions accept IELTS as proof of English proficiency.

2. University Admission – Many universities in the USA, UK, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand require IELTS scores for admission.

3. Visa and Immigration – Many countries require IELTS scores for immigration and visa processing.

4. Employment Opportunities – Multinational companies often require IELTS scores from candidates for international job roles.

Structure of the IELTS Exam

IELTS assesses four key language skills – Listening, Reading, Writing, and Speaking. Here’s a breakdown of each section:

1.Listening (30 minutes) : This section has four parts, each with ten questions, totaling 40 questions. You’ll hear recordings of native English speakers in a variety of contexts, from conversations to monologues, and answer questions based on what you hear.

2. Reading (60 minutes) : This section consists of three reading passages and a total of 40 questions. The passages range from descriptive and factual to analytical and critical, testing comprehension, main ideas, and details.

3. Writing (60 minutes): The writing test includes two tasks:

- Task 1 (150 words) for Academic IELTS: Describes data, charts, or diagrams.

- Task 2 (250 words): Essay writing that presents an argument or viewpoint. In General IELTS, Task 1 involves writing a letter, while Task 2 is a more general essay

4. Speaking (11–14 minutes): The speaking section is a face-to-face interview with an examiner, divided into three parts: an introduction, a short talk, and a discussion on abstract topics. The section evaluates your fluency, pronunciation, vocabulary, and coherence.

IELTS Scoring System

IELTS is scored on a scale of 0 to 9, with each skill receiving a band score. The overall score is the average of the four sections, rounded to the nearest half-point.

Here’s a breakdown of the score levels:

- Band 9 – Expert User

- Band 7 – Good User

- Band 5 – Modest User

- Band 3 – Extremely Limited User

- Band 1 – Non-user

Each university or country may have a minimum score requirement for admission or immigration, typically between 6.0 and 7.5.

Tips for IELTS Preparation

1. Understand the Format – Familiarize yourself with the test format by reviewing sample questions and practicing past papers.

2. Develop Strong Vocabulary – A strong vocabulary is essential, especially for the Reading and Writing sections.

3. Practice Time Management – Each section has strict time limits, so practicing under timed conditions is essential.

4. Take Practice Tests – Practice tests can highlight areas that need improvement and help build confidence.

5. Seek Professional Guidance – If possible, consider enrolling in an IELTS preparation course or hiring a tutor for personalized feedback.

Test Dates and Registration

IELTS is available multiple times throughout the year in test centres across the globe. Registration is typically done through the official IELTS website or authorized centres.

To register:

1. Choose a test date and location that suits your schedule and apply early to secure a spot.

2. Pay the test fee (typically between $200–USD 250, but it varies by location).

3. Prepare the required documents for registration and bring them on the test day.

Studying Abroad with IELTS

With a good IELTS score, students can apply to universities in countries like the United States, United Kingdom, Australia, Canada, and New Zealand. Here are some of the top destinations:

- United Kingdom – Requires IELTS for student visas and is home to universities like Oxford, Cambridge, and Imperial College London.

- Australia – Most universities in Australia accept IELTS scores, and it’s a requirement for a student visa.

- Canada – Canadian universities accept IELTS, and it’s commonly required for study and work visas.

- United States – While TOEFL is popular, many U.S. universities accept IELTS as proof of English proficiency.

IELTS is more than just an English test; it’s a stepping stone to achieving your dream of studying abroad. By preparing strategically, understanding the test format, and practising regularly, you can achieve a high score and open the doors to numerous global opportunities. Whether you’re aiming to study at a prestigious university, start a career, or explore new cultures, IELTS is your pathway to an exciting future.

For more information on IELTS, study tips, and preparing for your journey abroad, visit website www.Egyaneknowledge.com – your guide to educational success!

Contact: 9311499886, 9599277403

Mail I’d: Egyaneknowledge@gmail.com

Insta: https://www.instagram.com/egyan_eknowledge/?hl=en

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@egyaneknowledge5776?app=desktop

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Egyaneknowledge.edu/

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 23

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (OFC. But you do not have to read the others in the series to understand this fic.)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip@munstysmind@themaradwrites@youflickedtooharddamnit@secretaryunpaid@kmc1989@thebejeweledwatercat@asirensrage@theesirenteller@residentdormouse@arrthurpendragon@ocappreciation@occommunity@karimac@alisbackalleybbq@ninjasawakenedmystar

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/131266804

My tag list is OPEN. Please just let me know if you’d like to be added :D

*****

Esme lingers in the near distance, watching Millie as she busies herself at the table by the living room windows; her hair dishevelled and unruly, wayward strands skimming the sides of her face and falling into her eyes. Her long, slender frame still clad in her pyjamas; an intentionally mismatched set comprising traditional brown and grey camo leggings and a neon pink shirt decorated with bright yellow stars. Attention riveted on her creative pursuits; kneeling on one of the chairs, the tabletop covered in sheets of different coloured paper, markers, and both pencil and traditional crayons.

The little one looks so much like her in that moment of intense concentration: the furrowed brow, the narrowed eyes, the top teeth tucked over her bottom lip. Even fresh out of the womb, she’d borne a startling resemblance to him. Arriving in the world with a headful of thick, dirty blond tresses, sparkling blue eyes, and that long torso and lanky limbs. And shockingly big feet and hands. And despite not spending her first four years in his presence, she somehow carries quite a number of his mannerisms and quirks; the stubbornness, the resiliency, the naturally occurring love for animals and a seemingly fearless, bold curiosity that knows no limits.

For Esme, it had been so bittersweet. Longing to be a mother for so long, she had found herself alone and overwhelmed, yet blessed with a beautiful little girl who was the spitting of the man who helped create her.

The one she had lost, but had loved beyond all comprehension. And always would.

She lightly raps her knuckles against the wall in an effort to grab Millie’s attention. “Hey…”

The four-year-old glances up and over; a broad, dimpled smile replacing the frown of concentration. “Momma! Hi!”

“What’cha doin’, babes?”

“Just drawing and colouring some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just all the stuff I like best. Animals and birds and rainbows and flowers and the places that you and I would always go to. Like the library, and the Statue of Liberty, and the fountain at Central Park. And Macy’s.”

“Macy’s, huh? Let me guess; what it looks like at Christmas?”

“Christmas is the best time to go there. All the lights and decorations and stuff. And the hot chocolate and those things we always get to eat. In the paper bag. That you got at the food cart.”

“Roasted chestnuts.”

“Those are soooo good. Do they have Christmas in Australia?”

“They definitely do.”

“Just no snow.”

“No. There won’t be any snow. But we could always travel somewhere where there is some. For Christmas time. I’m sure Tyler wouldn’t mind. He’s been in winter weather before.”

“Christmas is only a month and a bit away. Is that enough time? To let Santa know where I moved to? What if he comes to New York City and can’t find me?”

“There’s more than enough time to send him your new address. Once December first comes, we’ll write him a letter. Let him know where you’re living now. He won’t forget about you. I promise.”

Satisfied with the answer, Millie returns to the drawing in front of her. “I’m going to hang my pictures on the wall in my new bedroom. Tyler said I could. That I could decorate it myself. And that we could even go shopping! So I can pick out things I really like. He even said I could get a bike. And that he’ll teach me to ride it. IF it’s okay with you.”

“Of course that’s okay with me. You guys have been talking a lot, huh?”

“I like talking to him. He always lets me ask tons of questions. Even if they’re stupid ones. And he never gets mad at me. For talking too much. Alessio always got mad. He said I was too noisy.”

“I’m sorry. That Alessio was mean to you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t do something about it. That I didn’t take you away from him.”

“You always told him off! When he was mean to me. You never let him get away with it. Especially when he threw away my sandals. You REALLY lost it on him! It was awesome!”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. To defend you. Keep you safe. You know that, right?”

“Mmhmm. ‘Cause you’re my momma. And you love me.”

“I do. I DO love you. I love you so very, very, VERY much. And that’s why I need to have a little chat with you about something. About how things are going to go down today. When we finally get out of here.”

“When do we have to try and get away from the bad guys?”

Her mother nods. “Do you think I could join you? Sit with you for a little bit? Have our talk, and then you let you go back to what you’re doing?”

“Okay.” She hurriedly gathers up the loose pieces of paper, caps the markers, and settles everything into a neat pile. “Can I show you my pictures first? I think they’re really good. That you’ll REALLY like them.”

“I would love to see them.” Settles on the edge of the bed, Esme combs her fingers through Millie’s hair as the little one proudly shows off her creations: brightly coloured drawings of all of her favourite animals, princesses, superheroes, her rendition of Macy’s at Christmas, and the fountain and ducks in Central Park.

“And I made this!” Millie holds aloft the final piece. “It’s my best one! That’s me and you and…”

“How come you made me so short? I’m almost as small as you are.”

“‘Cause you’re really tiny, mom. I’m going to be taller than you soon.”

“You’re four years old, I highly doubt that.”

“I bet you when I’m ten, I'll be taller than you!”

“You know, for such a cute little thing, you’re a savage.”

“...and that’s Tyler. I made it with all three of us ‘cause we’re going to be living together, so that makes us a family! He IS family, right?”

“He definitely is.”

“And that’s his dog, Lucy. He showed me a picture of her. So I could draw her. I love her already. I always wanted a dog.”

“And a rabbit and a ferret and a bearded dragon. Along with a whole list of other animals. You’ll have to go easy on Lucy, okay? She’s getting older. Slowing down. And I’m sure things are starting to hurt.”

“Tyler said maybe all she needs is a little kid around. To have fun with. That maybe she’ll be so excited, she’ll act like a puppy again. I really hope she likes me.”

“She’ll love you. For sure. She’s a very sweet girl.”

“Mom, can I ask you something? Without you getting mad?”

“Why would I ever get mad at you? There’s nothing you could ask that would ever upset me.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. There’s nothing you can’t talk to me about. You know that. What’s going on? What’s up?”

“You remember how you said that one day you’d take me to meet my dad? My REAL dad?”

“I remember.”

“I kinda changed my mind. I don’t think I want to meet him anymore.”

“Why not? What happened?”

“Well, if we’re going to be living with Tyler, that means he’s gonna be my dad. Maybe not the dad that helped make me, but the dad that’s going to help you take care of me. Until I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“Okay…”

“I love Tyler. With all my heart. He’s my second bestie. And if my real dad comes along, he might not like that. That Tyler is around and that I love him and like being with him and living with him. And he might get upset and not let me see Tyler anymore. That would really make me sad. If I couldn’t see him.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. I don’t think your dad…”

“I don’t want to take any chances. So it’s just better if I don’t meet him; if he stays a secret, and I just wonder about him. I just want it to be us. You and me and Tyler. And Lucy. I don’t want anyone changing that.”

“Honey, I don’t…”

“Please, momma?” Millie’s voice quivers with emotion as tears sparkle in her eyes. “Please don’t make me meet him. I don’t want to ruin things. I want them to stay the way they are. I don’t want him trying to take me away. I just want to stay with you and Tyler and Lucy. Please?”

“Alright…” Cradling her daughter’s cheeks in her palms, Esme turns her head up towards her and places a kiss on her lips. “...we’ll keep things the way they are. But there’s something I need to tell you. And it’s really important and…”

“About my dad?”

“Yeah, about your dad.”

“Momma, no! I don’t want to hear it. I don’t…”

“Millie, it’s not what you think. It’s not bad. It’s very good, actually. It’s very, very, VERY good. Please just let me say it? I really need to say it?”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t…”

“Tyler’s your dad. Your REAL dad. He’s not just an old boyfriend that I got back together with. He’s so much more than that. He always has been.”

“That’s impossible. He CAN’T be my dad.”

“He is, sweets. There is no doubt about it. There was no one else but him. In my life. He’s the person who helped make you. He’s…”

“If he was my dad, he would have known about me BEFORE. He wouldn’t have just met me.”

“It’s a long and complicated story and…” Her voice trails off as the main door to the suite clicks open. And she returns Tyler’s warm yet apologetic smile with a shaky, nervous one of her own.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be this late.” Affectionately ruffling Millie's hair, he lays a hand on Esme’s shoulder, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I got tied up with work stuff. We were going over some things, and people were disagreeing about them and…” He frowns as he notices her discomfort, then runs a hand over her hair, and squeezes the nape of her neck. “What’s going on? You alright? You don’t…”

Tears threaten as Esme shakes her head. “I told her. The truth. About you. I didn’t mean to do it. Just she was talking about her dad, and I just blurted out. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I know that we were going to wait and tell her together, but…”

“It’s okay. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You didn’t do anything wrong. Hey…” Dropping to a knee alongside Millie’s chair, he gives a comforting smile and then places his palm on the top of her head; thumb repeatedly stroking her brow. “...you alright? What’s going on?”

“It’s not true, is it? That you’re my dad. There’s no way it’s true.”

“It’s true. Your mom isn’t lying, I AM your dad.”

“You can’t be. I’m four. And we just met! If you were my dad, we would have met before. You would have known since I was in mummy’s tum!”

“Tyler didn’t know,” Esme informs her daughter. “He had no clue you were ever in my tummy.”

“How could he not know? It’s obvious when there’s a baby in someone’s tummy!”

“He never knew about you, Amelia. He had no clue you were even on the way. I left before I found out about you.”

“Why did you leave? You didn’t love him?”

“I didn’t leave because I didn’t love him. I left because I did.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. NONE of this makes any sense.”

“Your mom got into some trouble,” Tyler attempts an explanation; eager to tell the truth, but keep it simple and short enough for a little one to understand. “With some really bad people. And she was worried that I was going to get hurt. Or worse. We had already been through something really bad together, and I wasn’t healthy enough to fight back and keep her safe. That’s the only reason she left. So nothing would happen to ME.”

“But mom said you had no clue I was ever in her tummy. Why didn’t she tell you?”

“Because there was still trouble. And once she found out she was having you, all of a sudden, there were three people to keep safe. Her, me, and YOU. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Before you were even born. And she’d wanted to be a mom for so long, and she was so happy that you were on the way that she did whatever she had to. To protect you.”

“But what about AFTER? After all the bad stuff? She must have told you about me then. I’m FOUR! There’s no way you just found out about me. Didn’t you want me?”

“I didn’t know about you. Until I came here. That was the first time I met you. I wouldn’t lie. Millie. I didn’t know you even existed. Because believe me, if I had? There’s nothing…or no one…that could have stopped me from being with you. AND your mum. We would have been a family. Long before now.”

Millie turns narrowed, accusing eyes towards her mother. “Why didn’t you tell him? About me?”

“Because I was stupid. And selfish.”

“You’re stupid, alright.”

“Hey…” Tyler’s tone is firm. Scolding. “...don’t talk to your mum like that. Don’t ever say those things to her.”

“I hate her! For lying to me! And to you!”

“No. You don’t. You don’t hate her.”

“I do. I DO hate her.”

“I can’t do this.” Esme holds her hands up in surrender. And a play for mercy. “ I can’t HEAR this. I just can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t…”

Tyler reaches for her, fingertips brushing across the top of her hand as she moves further away. “It’s alright, Me. Just sit down. Just sit down and breathe and…”

“I need some air. Or some water. Something. Anything. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

He heaves a sigh as she flees the room; running a hand over his weary, unshaven face before turning his attention back to Millie.

She remains steadfast. Unapologetic. “I DO hate her.”

“Listen to me.” He takes his daughter’s face in his hands. “ That is your mum. And she loves you more than she loves anything or anyone in this world. More than she even loves herself. And she’s been a good mum, yeah? A REALY good mum?”

The four-year-old offers a reluctant nod.

“Everything she did? She did it to protect you. And me. It doesn’t matter if we agree with it or not. Doesn’t matter if we even really understand. We don’t know what she was going through. What she HAS been going through. Only she knows those things. But what I DO know? I know it wasn’t easy for her to leave. I know she didn’t want to go. I know she wanted to have a life with me. She wanted to get married and have kids; she wanted us to grow really old and really gray together. But she didn’t have much of a choice. She wasn’t given one. And she wasn’t taking any chances. With me OR you.”

“I’m angry. At her.”

“But you don’t hate her.”

Millie shakes her head.

“It’s okay to be angry, Amelia. It’s okay to be pissed off and for your heart to hurt. Mine does. It’s hurt nearly every second of every day for the last five years. I have missed your mum so much. I never stopped loving her. I never will. But just because I love her and I would do anything for her doesn’t mean I’m not angry at her. That I don’t get upset with her sometimes. But I don’t hate her. I never could.”

“Why? Why don’t you hate her? You should.”

“No. I shouldn’t. Because I don’t know what she was going through. The things she was thinking. How she was feeling. It hasn’t been easy for her. These last five years. She didn’t want to leave me. She HAD to. And she has her reasons; for not telling me about you. I don’t pretend to understand them. But one day I will. And one day, I won’t be angry anymore. And neither will you.”

“But right now…”

“Right now, you’re pissed off. And you’re hurt, yeah?”

The little girl nods.

“So am I. And that’s alright. To feel this way. And you know who told me that? Your mom. She was the one who told me that it's okay to be angry and sad. That she understands. But to say you hate her…”

“I don’t really. I don’t really hate her.”

“You said it to hurt her, didn’t you. You wanted her to be sad, too.”

“I wanted her heart to hurt. Like mine.”

“Believe me, Millie, it already does. It’s been hurting for five years. Your mum didn’t deserve that. You saying that to her. She isn’t some horrible person who did all of this to hurt you. Or me. She thought she was doing the right thing. And even though all the bad stuff was finished and she still didn’t tell me about you, she thought there was a reason she needed to protect herself. She was afraid. Of being hurt. That maybe I’d be so angry at her that I wouldn’t want her back. That I wouldn’t even want YOU.”

“But you would have, right? Wanted us?”

“I definitely would have wanted you. BOTH of you. And I’m sorry; that we didn’t get to meet before. That we didn’t know each other until now. But we got a lot of time left, yeah? For all of that?”

“Tons of time.”

“And I know that we’re both pissed off and hurt and all that. That we deserve to feel these things. But you know what? Your mumma is going through a lot. Because of all this. She’s been lonely and sad and hurting for five years. And she hates herself; for what she did to us. And I don’t want that. I love her too much to watch her put herself through that.”

“So do I.”

“She needs us. More than she lets on. So do you think you could help me? Be there for her? Think we could be a team? Help her together?”

“I think so.”

“I know you love your mum. And she knows it too. But do you think maybe you could tell her? Maybe say you’re sorry? Because she didn’t deserve that. Being hurt like that. And I think you know that.”

“I didn’t mean it. I don’t really hate her.”

“I know. And so does she. But I still think it’s better if you tell her that. That you’re sorry and you love her. Even if you don’t understand why she did the things she did. I don’t really understand either. But I’m trying.”

“Is it REALLY true? It’s not some kind of big joke, is it? That you and mom are playing. You really ARE my dad?”

“We wouldn’t joke about this. I really AM your dad.”

“And you honestly didn’t know about me?”

“If I’d known that your mum was pregnant, nothing would have stopped me from being with her. There’s not a bad guy in the world that would have kept me from her. I would have been there as soon as she told me about you. And she knows that. That I never would have stayed away. Which is part of the reason why she didn’t tell me.”

“Because she wanted to protect you.”

“Exactly.”

“And she didn’t tell you after all that?”

“I didn’t know about you until I came here. I didn’t even know it was your mum that needed my help. It was Auntie Nik that called me and said she needed to do a job for her. A client asked for me by name and needed me to get her and her little kid out of a bad situation. And to somewhere safe.”

“You didn’t know it was mom?”

“I hadn’t seen or heard from her in five years. I had no idea where she was. I didn’t even know if she was alive. I wish I had. Known that she was alright.”

“And you wish you’d known about me.”

“Believe me, I would have loved to have known about you. I wanted to be a dad again. I was scared to be one, but…”

“Because your little boy died.”

Tyler nods. “And because I made a really bad decision when he was sick. That hurt him and his mum. And I didn’t want to screw things up again. With your mumma. But I wanted all that with her. A house and a wife and kids. I wanted to do it right the second time around.”

“It’s sad, you know.”

“What’s sad?”

“That momma had to leave. That she didn’t get to stay. ‘Cause she was happy, and she loved you, and she wanted all that too. It must have hurt her. A lot. To leave.”

“It did. And it still hurts her. That she left. She didn’t want to go. And she definitely didn’t want to keep you from me. She really thought she was doing the best for me. And for you.”

“Momma wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone. Not on purpose.”

“Exactly. Your mum isn’t like that. She’s a good person, Millie. She’s the best human being I’ve ever known.”

“And the best momma, too.”

“I’m very lucky. That she’s your mum. Because she loves you so much. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for you. And she’s taken such good care of you. She’s kept you happy and healthy all this time. And SAFE.”

“It’s been a really good life.”

“I’m sure it has. And that makes me really happy; to hear you say that. Your mum has done such a good job, Millie. And she IS sorry. That she kept us apart. She regrets it. And she probably will for the rest of her life.”

“I don’t want her to be sad. Not for THAT long.”

“Neither do I. And that’s why we have to team up. Work together. To help her NOT be sad. To let her know that we don’t hate her. We never could. We just gotta keep finding ways to show her that we love her. Think we can do that? Be a team?”

Millis gives an enthusiastic nod.

“I’m going to go and check on her. Make sure she’s okay. And then I’m gonna bring her back here. Is that alright?”

“That’s alright. But I have a question first. Is that okay?”

“Always.”

“I don’t want to upset you.”

“Believe me, it takes a lot.”

“When do I call you ‘daddy’? ‘Cause I’ve only known you as Tyler, and I don’t know if I’m ready yet. To NOT call you Tyler. Is that wrong? That I’m not ready to call you anything else?”

“That’s not wrong. At all. I know all of this is hard. It’s a lot to hear. And make sense of.”

“So when? When do I call you something else?”

“Whenever you’re ready to. Whenever it feels right. That’s all that’s important. What’s right for YOU. Don’t worry about anyone else. Just yourself. I’ll be around. I can wait as long as you need me to.”

“Promise you’ll be around? Even if it takes a long time? You promise you won’t leave me? And momma?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Millie. Ever. You and your mum are stuck with me. Sorry.”

Giggling she wraps her arms around his neck and pecks his cheek. “I do love you, you know.”

“I know.” He embraces her as tight as her little body will allow, then places a kiss on her temple. “And I love you. You know THAT, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Millie issues a long, content sigh, then rests her head on his shoulder. “...I do.”

*****

He finds her in the master bathroom, perched on the edge of the bathtub; eyes puffy and red from crying, a pile of used tissues by her feet.

“You okay?”

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“You were right there. You heard her say it.”

“She could never hate you. You’re her mother.”

“I hate MY mother.”

“Yeah? So? So do I.”

“So that means you hate me, too.”

“Don’t start that shit again. No one hates you. Least of all ME. I have very good, solid reasons to hate your mother.”

“Millie has a VERY good and solid reason.”

“No, she doesn’t. It’s a hell of a shock, you know? To hear something like that. Especially when you’re only four years old. Fuck, it’s a lot to digest as an adult. But she does not hate you. She was hurt, and she was angry, and she lashed out.”

“Boy, it’s true,” Esme rips a tissue from the nearby box; sniffling noisily as she dabs at her eyes. “About the apple not falling far from the tree. She really IS her father.”

“I’m going to ignore that.”

“You heard her, Tyler. You heard everything she said. She even called me stupid.”

“You know damn well that your daughter…OUR daughter…doesn’t hate you. And she doesn’t think you’re stupid, either. Babe, she was upset. She just dropped it on her. How did you want her to react?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“She’s been through a lot. In the past week ALONE. And hearing that…that I’m her dad and you’ve been keeping it a secret…it was just too much for her. She’s just a little girl. I know she’s smart as hell, but she’s still only four. Get her some slack.”

“It just hurt, you know. To hear her say that. It was my worst fear; that she’d hate me for keeping her from her dad.”

“Look at me,” he gently orders as he kneels down in front of her; using calloused fingertips to clear wayward strands of hair away from the sides of her face. A thumb passing over her lips as he cups her cheek in his palm. “Please?”

She raises her chin from her chest.

“Millie does NOT hate you. You’re her mum. And you’re a damn good mum. An AMAZING one. She was just angry and hurt and that was the only one she knew how to express it. That’s all it was. She didn’t mean it.”

“When did you become an expert on child behaviour?”

“I have done this before, remember? And believe me, Austin could be damn mouthy when he wanted to be.”

“So he took after his dad, too, huh?”

“She is so much like him, Esme. She has so much of him inside of her. I saw it that first day; just the way she carried herself, the way she laughed, and how even the smallest things just made her so excited. And he loved drawing and colouring, too.”

“Does she look like him?”

“A little. He had a lot of his mum in him, though. Millie…”

“Physically, she is ALL you. I knew she was going to look like her dad. I mean, at my thirty-two-week ultrasound, they got a perfect side pic of her, and she damn well had your profile. She had your chin and the line of your jaw and even your nose. Well, your nose BEFORE it got all busted up a few times.”

“You love my nose.”

“I do.” She trails a fingertip over the bump in the bridge, then the scar that curves over top of it. “I love everything about you.”

“Do you still have that picture? Of her?”

“I have so many. There’s so much stuff. I started collecting things and putting them away; as soon as I found out that I was pregnant up until about eight months ago. When I moved in with Alessio, Nik took everything for me and kept it safe. I didn’t want him to find any of it. I didn’t want him to know about me. The REAL me. Or my past. He didn’t deserve to.”

“Maybe we can grab that stuff sometime. Or get Nik to ship it to us. I’d like to see it.”

“I saved it for you. So you could see what she was like; from the time she was born until the time you met her. I know it wouldn’t have made a difference; it wouldn’t have made you less hurt or angry. And it wouldn’t have replaced everything you missed out on. But I wanted that for you. To at least SEE those things.”

“It wasn’t easy for you. I know it wasn’t. And I’m sorry. If I’ve made you feel like I don’t care about any of that. How you must have felt and everything you must have been going through. I never meant to make you feel like it never mattered.”

“I never wanted to leave you. It was the last thing I wanted. I wanted ‘always and forever’ and ‘happy ever after’. Whatever that would have looked like for us.”

“We‘re still going to get that. It just didn’t happen the way we planned it. Things got a little sidetracked and delayed…”

“Just a bit.”

“...but we’ll get there. We’ve already started.”

“I’m sorry. That I told her. I know we planned on doing it together. I know you wanted to be there when it happened. It just..”

Laying a hand on the nape of her neck, he pulls her into him and kisses her forehead. “It’s alright, Me. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“She started talking about her dad. And how she didn’t want to meet him anymore. Because she found you and loves you and she was scared that her dad would come along and take her away from you. And it just freaked me out; hearing her talk about those things and being so adamant about it. Because her dad is right here, and she doesn’t even know it, and it seemed so unfair for her NOT to know and…”

“It’s okay, Esme. Everything’s alright. I’m not mad. Not in the slightest.”

“That’s NOT how I wanted her to find out.”

“Better out than in, yeah? It wasn’t the best way for it to happen, but…”

“Is she okay? How did she handle it? How…?”

“She’s so tough. So resilient. I’ve never seen a kid THAT strong. What have you been feeding her?”

She manages a laugh. “I told you. She’s YOU.”

“No. That’s all her mum. Her mum is the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

“It IS true. When do I ever bullshit?”

“Never. Not about serious things like that.”

“Millie’s fine. She just had the rug pulled out from under her. But we had a nice, long talk about her mum and why she did the things she did. And I told her that no matter how hurt and angry I am at times, I will defend you. No matter. Against anyone. Even her.”

“Boy, do you ever have your work cut out for you. That girl is pretty damn headstrong. She’s a bit of a challenge.”

“Babe, don’t hate me for saying this, but she gets that from you.”

“I am NOT that bad.”

“You are, and then some. I just let her know that I wouldn’t put up with that shit; her talking to her mum like that. And I told her that I love you. That I always have. That I always will.”

A soft knock comes to the door. “Mommy?” Millie’s voice is uncharacteristically tiny. Nervous. “Mommy, are you in there?”

“I am. Tyler’s here too.”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course you can.”

The little one lets herself into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and then sheepishly approaching her mom. In possession of a peace offering; pink construction paper cut into the shape of a heart and sprinkled with purple and silver glittering and decorated with stickers of rainbows and unicorns. “I made this for you, momma. Don’t worry, I didn’t use the scissors. Abuela did that part.”

Tears threaten once more as Esme accepts the gift; giving a small, choked sob when she opens the card and discovers its message. Done with so much care, patience and love; letters of various sizes and facing different directions. Declaring her the best mommy ever and Millie the luckiest kid alive- so carefully and lovingly printed- on the inside. “It’s so beautiful. Thank you. I love it.”

“I’m sorry, momma. That I said bad things to you. And hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean them. I was just angry. And really sad. I still am.”

“And that’s okay, sweetpea. To be angry and sad. It’s a horrible thing that I did. And I’m so sorry. I am so, so, so sorry.”

“I love you always. No matter what. But right now, I’m really upset with you. Tyler told me that’s okay; that we can be upset at someone but still love them.”

“Tyler…your dad…is a very smart man.”

“I know you were just trying to protect me. But it still hurts. That I didn’t get to meet my dad. Until now.”

“I know it does. I’d never deny you that, Millie. I’d never say your feelings are wrong.”

“But I DO love you. I’m just a little pissed off.”

“You’re allowed to be. I totally understand why you are.”

“I still want snuggles, though. Even though I’m mad. Can I have some? Some snuggles? Maybe Tyler will snuggle with us too.”

“He scowls. “Tyler doesn't snuggle.”

“I know that isn’t true. When I woke up this morning, you and momma were asleep, but you were snuggling.”

“Your mum is the one that likes to snuggle.”

“I think you like it too.’

“You’re right,” he concedes, then gathers his ‘girls’ in his arms. Pressing a kiss to one forehead, then the other. “But I’m telling you right now; if you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.”

Laughing, Millie then curls an arm around his neck and noisily kisses his cheek. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

******

Three hours later, they stand alongside the dining table; the suite a hub of activity as the countdown begins. A mixture of nerves and adrenaline among the team; the rush that comes with a mixture of confidence, worry, and fear. The world around them so unpredictable; the expectation that danger…perhaps death…lingers around every corner.

“It’s weird,” Esme says as she watches him ‘gear up.’ “Seeing you like this.”

“You’ve seen me like this before. Maybe not in this exact stuff, but…”

“Sometimes it seems like such a long time ago. Dhaka. And then other days…”

“Feels like it was just last week.”

She nods. “So much has changed since then. WE’VE changed.”

“For the better, or…”

“I mean, not like there was anything horrible about the way we were. We were just…different. We were at different places in our lives. Different crossroads.”

“Not to mention my body ached less back then,” Tyler teases. “Five years ago, just one of my shoulders could tell you if it was going to rain. Now it’s both AND my right knee.”

“You went through a lot. After Dhaka. No one expected you to live, let alone walk out of that hospital.” “You did.”

“I knew you weren’t going to give up. That you were going to fight your way back. I know that sounds weird; considering we’d only known each other for less than a week. But I already knew you were too stubborn to die. That this universe couldn’t get rid of you that easily.”

“I only fought my way back for you. So I could have more time to drive you completely insane.”

“You weren’t THAT bad. You occasionally got on my already frayed nerves, but…” She lightly smacks his butt. “...you were really hot, so it made it a bit easier to deal with.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You always grope your mercenaries like that?”

“That was hardly groping. And no, I don’t. Only the really tall, blue-eyed, tatted-up Australian ones.”

“You meet a lot of them, do ya?”

“Tons,” she teases. “They’re a dime a dozen. I do like it, though.” She smoothes her palms down the front of his bulletproof vest. “You’ve always looked really good in black. It’s very sexy.”

“You’re nervous, aren’t you.”

Sighing, she fidgets with the frayed hem on the waist of his jacket. “Is it that obvious?”

He holds his thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. “Just a bit. You always talk about crazy shit when you’re nervous.”

“What’s so crazy about it? It’s a compliment. Okay, so maybe it isn’t exactly the right TIME to be saying it…”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I appreciate the ego-stroking.”

“And you are a whole other level of hot. When you’re all geared up. It’s so intimidating and masculine and badass. Not that you aren’t masculine or badass all the time, but it’s just heightened, you know? And with that jacket and the vest over it? You look even thicker.”

He smirks, then nods his thanks to Yaz when he hands him his earpiece for communications, popping it into place before turning back to Esme. “Listen, if you call me fat one more time…”

“I’ve already explained this to you. I’m not calling you fat. I’m calling you THICK. It’s two totally different things.”

“In your warped little mind, anyway.”

“And even if you were, I’d still be madly in lust with you.”

“So we’ve narrowed it down, have we?” He chides, and snags a bulletproof vest from the supply case open in the middle of the table. “To just lust?”

“Well, I DO love you. That’s never in question. But sometimes the lust does have a slight edge. Are you telling me that there are never times when you don’t lust me more than you love me?”

“I love and lust you in equal amounts.”

“You are so diplomatic.”

“They’re both huge amounts, in case you haven’t figured that out.”

“You really ARE just a big sap.”

“Remember how you said maybe it isn’t the time or place for certain talk? Well, this is it. This is the time and place. Are you honestly feeling that confident? Insulting the guy that’s in charge of keeping your ass in one piece?”

“Like you would ever let anything happen to me. Regardless of how annoyed you are.”

“It’s because you’re so cute. You get away with a lot. Arms up.”

She does as instructed, her eyes never leaving his face as he slips the garment over her head. Tugging firmly at the fabric until it settles perfectly just above her waist; calloused palms smoothing down the front and back before his fingers begin tending to the velcro straps. And she notices the very distinct change in him in his persona. The seemingly smooth and easy transition from the angry and vulnerable Tyler from the night before to stern and focused -and extremely intuitive and skilled- mercenary. The darkness that now inhabits his eyes, the edge and the authority that creeps into his voice, the confident and assertive body language.

It’s the Tyler she remembers from years ago. The one who had tended to her vest and made sure she was feeling safe and secure in her own skin before sending her on her way. It had been those rough and rugged edges that had started the tumble into blinding lust and unprecedented love, but it had been what lay beneath that had sealed it. Those five days in the dirty little room had allowed her access to the Tyler that he hid from everyone else. Not just the softness and the lingering humanity that this weary and broken man still possessed, but the tenderness and patience and adoration that he had poured upon her. And she repeats her actions from that day as she reaches up to clear locks of hair from his furrowed brow; a shaky yet reassuring smile curving her lips.

“I was just thinking about how…” A startled gasp interrupts her words, a grimace replacing the smile. “Ow! Too tight! My lungs do need space to work!”

“Sorry.” He adjusts the straps. “I think I was being a little overcautious there.”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

Hands keeping a firm hold on the shoulders of the vest, he pulls her into him, lips pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. A pure and innocent form of intimacy that brings tears to her eyes; so many words left unsaid, yet so many promises being made at the same time. “What were you thinking about?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Dhaka.” She notices the beginnings of his scowl and quickly adds, “But not the bad things. About when you dropped me off. Before going to get Ovi out of that apartment. You did the same thing; you wouldn’t let me put on my vest. You insisted on doing it. Didn’t give me much of a chance, actually.”

“I needed to make sure you’d be safe. It made me feel better. Doing it for you.”

“Maybe this sounds really odd, but I liked it. Then AND now.”

“You ARE really odd,” he teases, shooting her a wink before turning back to his selection of equipment. “Now, don’t make me regret this. Don’t get trigger-happy and shoot me in the ass.”

“Ooooo….” She accepts the weapon offered; slipping the Glock out of its holster and checking the magazine. “...a shiny toy just for me. I don’t get another clip?”

“I’m hoping you won’t need to use that one. IF, for some reason, you run out, I’ve got more.”

“By the way, I would NEVER shoot you in the butt,” she assures him as she returns the revolver to its holster, then reaches under her coat and clips it to the waist of her jeans. “It’s too nice of an ass to take any chances with. But there was this guy that I served with in Kabul, that put his sidearm down on a lawn chair and then sat on it. Took a nine-millimetre right between the legs. Came out of it okay. Well, one ball less, mind you.”

“You shot him in the nuts, didn’t you.”

“I am completely innocent. Although he pissed off enough people that I’m sure a lot of us WANTED to.”

“Okay…listen…” He firmly seizes her by both shoulders. “...I know you’re not just a regular client off the street, and you have a lot of personal experience with shit like this, so I don’t know exactly why I’m about to say what I’m going to…”

“Force of habit?”

“..and I’m not trying to be a complete asshole, so…”

“It’s okay, Tyler. I get it. If anyone does, it’s me.”

“You stay close to me. At all times. Always behind, never in front. Unless I tell you otherwise. You listen to everything I say. Whatever I tell you to do, whenever I tell you to do it, you don’t hesitate. You don’t give me a hard time, you don’t argue, you don’t second guess me, and you don’t question a goddamn thing. If I want your opinion or your ideas, I’ll ask for them. Got it?”

She nods.

“You wanna get out of here alive, you cooperate. Now, I know how much pleasure you get out of being a complete pain in my ass…”

“One of the greatest joys of my life.”

“…but I really need you to toe the line. This isn’t a regular job. This isn’t Dhaka; we’re not partners this time. This is MY show to run. So I need you to just go easy on me, yeah? Just do what I say? Because this is way too personal, and I have way too much to lose. So does Millie. She needs her mum. And at the risk of being called a sap, I kinda need her too.”

“That’s not sappy at all. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s even WORSE than being called sappy, you realize that, yeah?”

Finishing the tightening of his own vest, he checks the magazine on both rifle and sidearm; locking and loading before disabling the safety switches. Noticing out of the corner of his eye the way she anxiously rocks back and forth on her heels and gnaws at the inside of her cheek; her hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. And he’s amazed at how easily it is to make that switch; to abandon the harder and more aggressive and assertive version of himself in order to become exactly what she needs at that moment.

“Hey…” His tone is gentle yet firm as he settles a gloved hand on the back of her neck and lightly squeezes. “...you’re alright. You’re safe. With me. I’m going to get you outta here. All you gotta do is trust me.”

“I do. I DO trust you.”

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he assures her as his fingers massage her tense muscles. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Taking in a deep, trembling breath, she releases it slowly; eyes briefly closing as his lips brush against her brow. “I hope so.”

“Getting close to showtime.” Alcott, as he and Abeula join them. Millie perched upon his hip, already clad in winter boots, hat and mitts, her coat unzipped to reveal the child-size bulletproof vest worn underneath. Posie the doll, tucked tightly under one arm, Franklin the stuffed koala under the other. “I think we’re ready. Are we?” He lightly pinches and tickles the little one’s tummy, managing to get a giggle and a smile out of her.. “Are YOU ready, sunshine?”

“As I’ll ever be!”

Esme steps forward; zipping Millie’s coat and straightening the brim on her beanie. “You be good for Uncle Duey and AB, okay?”

“I’m always good!”

“Mmmhmm. Sure you are.”

“Well, maybe not ALWAYS, but most of the time. And why do I gotta wear this thing?” Reaching under the shoulder of her coat, she pulls at the fabric of the vest. “It’s tight! I don’t like it. It’s making me sweat!”

“We’re all wearing them. We match. It’s like a team uniform. Why should we leave you out? You’re part of the team.”

“Mom…” Millie tilts her head to the sigh and regards her in disdain. “...I KNOW what it is. I KNOW it stops bullets. I get why you guys have to wear them, but why ME?”

“Because bad people are crazy, and they love to hurt people. Especially innocent people. And I don’t want you to be one of them. It makes me feel better, okay? Knowing you’re wearing that. Makes me know that you’re safe and sound.”

“I am safe with Uncle Duey. He can protect me.”

“But wearing that vest makes you EXTRA safe,” Alcott points out. “And that’s a good thing, yeah? To be extra safe? I know I like to feel extra safe. That’s why I wear one.”

“You’re safe because you carry a gun, Uncle Duey.”

“Guns don’t protect you from other guns. So having one makes me safe, but wearing one of those makes me extra safe. Make sense?”

“I suppose. I still don’t like it, though. It’s uncomfy. I can’t breathe.”

“You’re breathing just fine, judging by the amount of talking you’re doing. Just like your mum, yeah? Talk, talk, talk.”

“That’s ‘cause we both have a lot to say! We’re very opinionated!”

“You’re very something alright. How do you even know that word? Opinionated? You’re four.”

“‘Cause I’m smart! Like momma. She’s pretty brainy, you know.”

“I beg to differ. She did get mixed up with your dad after all and…”

Esme takes her daughter’s face in her hands. “You and I need to have a chat, little miss. It’s very important that you hear what I have to say, okay?”

Millie nods.

“I want you to listen to everything Uncle Duey and AB say. Whatever they tell you to do, whatever they tell you to say, you do it. You don’t argue with them, you don’t pitch a fit, you don’t ask why. You just do what you’re told. It’s very important that you do. You understand that, right?”

“I understand.”

“All you need to do is cooperate. Just stay calm and do whatever they say. If you do, things will go by really fast, and you won’t have time to be scared.”

“I’m already scared, though.”

“You’re in very good hands. There’s not many people I trust. Especially when it comes to you. It’s a very small list. And you know what? Uncle Duey is right near the very top. Because I know nothing bad is going to happen to you when he’s around. That he’ll do whatever he has to, to keep you safe. And you’ll have AB with you and Uncle John when you pick him up. Baby sweets, you are going to be with three of the strongest people I have EVER met.”

“But I’m not gonna be with YOU. Or Tyler.”

“I know it would make you feel better; if you were with us. But this really IS for the best. I wouldn’t send you away if it weren’t. And it’s not permanent. It’s not even CLOSE. It’s just for a little bit.”

“How long’s a little bit?”

“An hour. At the most.”

“That’s a long time.”

“I know it seems like it, but it’s really not. It’s going to go by really fast, babe. I promise. You just buckle yourself in tight, put your earphones on, and watch something on your tablet. You do that, and before you know it, you’ll be at the airport. And we’ll all be one step closer to getting out of here and starting our new life somewhere else.”

“And you’ll be there? At the airport?”

“You’ll get there first. You’ll have to wait for me.”

“For how long?”

“Not long at all. Probably just a few minutes. Believe me, Millie, if it could be any other way, it would be. If it were safe for you to stay with me, you wouldn’t be going off with Uncle Duey and AB. But remember what your dad told you? About how he has to really concentrate? On getting me out of here? Do you remember that?”

“I remember.”

“And that if you were with us, he’d be so worried about you that he wouldn’t have all his attention on me and…”

“And that’s when bad things happen. When he doesn’t put all his attention on something.”

“Exactly. He just wants everyone safe. That’s all. And sending you with Uncle Duey? That’s what it does; keeps everyone safe. We’re not sending you away because you’ve been bad or because we’re punishing you or anything like that. We’re doing it because we want you to be okay. And because we love you. You know that, right? How loved you are?”

The four-year-old nods.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Amelia. The best gift anyone could have ever given me. And I don’t want that taken from me. I don’t want something happening to you. I just want you safe. That’s all. And this keeps you safe.”

“And we’ll see each other soon?”

“Very soon. It won’t be very long. We’re leaving right after you are. We’re taking a different way so we’ll be a bit late, but we’ll get to the airport not long after you. I promise. I love you so much. So, so, so much.”

“I love you, too, momma. Bunches.”

“How many bunches?”

“Tons and tons and tons!”

“That’s a lot of bunches.” She pecks Millie’s cheek, then her temple, before squeezing her tightly. “Too-da-loo, kangaroo.”

Giggling, Millie noisily pecks her mother’s lips. “Adieu, cockatoo!”

“Hey…” Tyler lays a hand on the back of the four-year-old’s head, then leans down to lightly knock his forehead against hers. “...you behave. I don’t want to hear any different.”

“I will,” Millie promises, then shakes a finger at him. “And you behave too! Don’t get hurt! And make sure you take care of momma! Bring her back to me, okay?”

“I’ll do whatever I have to make sure that happens.” Offering Millie a fist, she curls her tiny fingers into one of her own; beaming up at him as she taps her clenched hand against his.

“And remember, you promised that when we got to Australia, I could hold a snake AND a big spider!”

“A snake and a spider, huh?” Esme stares at him pointedly, both eyebrows raised. “Really…”

“Come on now…” Tyler playfully tousles his daughter’s hair. “...you weren’t supposed to say that out loud.”

Eyes sparkling, Millie covers her mouth with both hands and giggles into them. “Ooops.”

“We’ll see you in a little bit,” Abuela promises as she tightly embraces Esme. “Take care of one another. Watch each other’s backs.”

“Always,” the younger woman assures her, then offers a shaky smile. “Please keep my baby safe. If anything happens to her…”

“She’s going to be just fine. Like you said, she’s in great hands. Just worry about yourself. That’s all you need to do. Keep your head on your shoulders, breathe, and rely on each other to get the hell out of here. And don’t give this poor man a hard time…” Reaching up, she gently taps Tyler’s cheek. “...he’s been through enough. And he’s already complaining about the amount of gray hair he already has. Try not to give him anymore.”

“This is Esme we’re talking about. Giving me gray hair is her specialty.”

Rolling her eyes, she playfully elbows him in the ribs. Thankful for the strong, supportive hand that settles on the nape of her neck and gives her weak, trembling knees a reprieve; her body leaning against his as it seeks both comfort and reassurance.

“Two minutes,” Nik calls from across the room, immediately followed by the last-minute securing of weapons and loading of magazines and the fastening of velcro. The tech team hurriedly logging off their computers and packing away their equipment as Yaz prepares to shut down the hotel’s security system; able to monitor it through just his cell phone.

Wick approaches the group as the group moves towards the door, slipping into his own bulletproof vest and then scooping up a storage case that contains the pieces of his rifle.

“You ready for this?” Alcott inquires, a smirk curling his lips. “Think your old ass is up to it?”

“Just another day at the office.”

“Make sure you’re right where I’m supposed to pick you up. ‘Cause if you’re not there, I’m leaving you behind. You can take the subway. Or an Uber.”

“Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be there. Just make sure you don’t get lost. I know you’re used to driving on the other side of the road and all that, but…”

“Have you noticed the kind of men you allow into your life?” Alcott playfully tugs on Esme’s ponytail. “You’ve got the smart-mouthed, severely depressed, alcoholic American, the nappy-headed, big-eared, ugly ass muppet from Australia. You have a soft spot for mangy strays?”

“Obviously. Or you and I wouldn’t be friends.”

“I set myself up for that, didn’t I.”

“Left yourself WIDE open.” Turning to Wick, she stands on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then tightly embraces him. “Be careful, okay? Stay safe.”

“I always try my best. See you on the other side.”

Tyler offers a hand in appreciation. “Thank you. For everything. Especially getting them out of there the other night. If you hadn’t done that…”

“When Nik called, I didn’t hesitate. Of course I was going to be there.”

“ I know this can’t be easy for you; going against Winston after all he’s done for you.”

“I don’t regret my decision. After all…” Wick casts a glance at Esme, offering a wink and a small smile. “...I have my own amends to make.”

[dr-otter]

Apropos of a recent post, I want to talk a little about Francis Oldham Kelsey.

Born in Canada in 1914, she studied pharmacology at McGill University in Montreal, and went to a PhD program at the university of Chicago.

When she arrived in Chicago the FDA was dealing with a national emergency; a series of deaths had followed the use of the antibiotic "Elixir Sulfanilimide" made by Massengill Co., and as a grad student she worked in the team that identified diethelyne glycol (DEG) as the toxin. This wasn't malicious on the company's part; it wasn't widely known that DEG was toxic at the time and safely testing new drugs or preparations wasn't required prior to 1938. Over 100 people died in that incident, and the owner of the company denied that they had any responsibility because they "not once could have foreseen the unlooked-for results". And that was precisely the problem; you SHOULD look and make sure you aren't producing poison before you sell a medication to the public.

That's why we require safety testing. Federal regulations are often written in blood; remember this the next time someone tells you they are "burdensome to innovation."

Dr. Kelsey went on to medical school, taught pharmacology, worked as a primary care physician for awhile, then was hired by the FDA as chief of the Division of New Drugs. Her job was to decide whether to approve new medications for use in the US, and as we noted, this was a relatively new concept at the time and there were no formal requirements around how safety testing was done. Companies just submitted an application and expected it to be taken at face value. Kelsey received an application for thalidomide from F. Joseph Murray, an executive from the William S. Merrill Co. that looked on paper like a wonder drug for insomnia and treatment of morning sickness in pregnancy (among other things). It was already approved and in use in Europe and Australia, where it was becoming wildly popular, but some parts of the application stood out; they claimed it had no side effects and no lethal dose (even water has a lethal dose). The "data" was a collection of anecdotes (data is not the plural of anecdote). She denied it. They resubmitted.

She noticed an article linking thalidomide to nerve damage in England and asked why they hadn't addressed that, and requested safety data for the fetus since this was supposed to be given to pregnant women. Denied. Resubmitted (still without safety data).

Murray went on to pressure Kelsey by writing an angry letter to her boss, and resubmitting the application a total of five times. Around the same time he was pushing for approval, reports of birth defects involving missing or deformed limbs started emerging in Europe and Australia. It took some time to connect these to thalidomide.

Kelsey had rejected the approval of thalidomide four times and it was withdrawn on the fifth. Around 8,000 babies were born with severe birth defects, and thousands more were miscarried. Only 17 of these were in the US, from samples Merrill gave out as an "investigative trial".

One result of this was that now safety trials have to be based on adequate, controlled studies and the FDA can inspect labs to ensure that this is happening. It also requires any human participants in those trials to give informed consent; if you are taking a drug that isn't approved you have to be told, and understand the risks. This was not the case before 1962!

Again for the folks in the back: Federal regulations are often written in blood. The reason we require safety testing is 100+ deaths from an antibiotic elixir and 8,000 babies with no limbs. Also, if you were born in the 60s with all 4 limbs, thank Frances Kelsey.

[evrmors]

very temporary muse page.

canon muses are found here.

calliope wilde, madison roberts, && giuliana & matteo berutti.

zoey sullivan. sea glass & mermaids, caressing the petals of every flower you pass, romcoms over horror, excessive lip gloss and popping bubblegum, pink room covered in posters, writing poetry about someone you’ve made eye contact with once. immigrated from sydney, australia at the age of twelve. kind, ambitious, superficial, spoiled, needy, talkative, enthusiastic, ditzy. portrayed by phoebe tonkin.

indigo becerra. chipped black nails, climbing fences, snug in abandoned buildings, spray paint stained hands, bruised knees, dope & cigarettes, skateboard covered in profanities, dirty converse, a painter staring at a blank canvas, running from the law. in & out of foster homes since the age of ten. chill, stubborn, gloomy, sly, impulsive, fidgety, sarcastic, trustworthy. portrayed by jenna ortega.

jasper hughes. bloody knuckles, holes in the wall, screaming into an empty void, thunderstorms you feel in your chest, the sharp cold of winter, dark circles beneath your eyes, staring at the mirror until your features start to disappear, the mistaken child. drunk && abusive step father with a timid mother. angry, protective. impulsive, stubborn, loner, observant, argumentative, alert. portrayed by jacob bertrand.

grayson delson. detention slips, falling asleep in class, silver case full of joints, lipstick stains against collars, humor to cope, poetry && casset tapes, film scattered across a messy room, sitting on a roof during a storm, throwing paper airplanes. middle child of a loving, overbearing family. cocky, humble, flirtatious, comic, depressed, adventurous, enigmatic, easy - going. portrayed by felix mallard.

wyatt king. expensive cologne, stacks of cash, gold rings, the “it” boy, house too big for your own good, center of attention, dreamy eyes, elaborate dates, coffee every morning, broken promises, shit-eating smirk, thinks that rules are optional. only son of lawyers whose only language is money. egotistical, spoiled, vain, flirtatious, mindless, driven, careless. portrayed by chad michael murray.

randall walton. love letters on coffee spilled paper, nervous laughter during chaos, waits while you tie your shoe, early mornings vs late nights, stops to pet a dog, be the change you wanna see in the world, impeccable notes in class, quotes shakespeare, late night study sessions. raised by a single mom, definite mamas boy. caring, trustworthy, anxious, smart, sensitive, talkative, overwhelming, helpful. portrayed by jonathan daviss.

[englishwiseae]

Complete Guide to Understand IELTS Exam

Like millions of aspirants, a career or residency abroad is a dream that runs in your mind. And to get started, you must first understand the relevance of English Proficiency exams like IELTS (International English Language Testing System).

English is an evergreen skill requirement in countries like the USA, UK, Australia, Canada, or New Zealand. Passing exams like IELTS is an easy gateway to build your international career and to live independently in a non-native country.

And for that matter, understanding all about this exam, its importance, format, scoring before enrolling for the IELTS coaching in Dubai is crucial. So, let’s get started.

What is the IELTS Exam?

An IELTS test is an English language test that earns recognition and acceptance in many countries. It evaluates your English proficiency in speaking, reading, writing, and listening skills.

Scoring well in the test is mandatory as it serves as the basis for getting admission in your dream university, work in a government agency, or apply for a permanent resident or work visa.

If you are planning to work or settle in English-speaking land, you must apply for IELTS General Training. However, if you wish to start your college from international academic institutions,  then you have to appear for its Academic test. Some of the top IELTS coaching in Abu Dhabi even guarantees your chances of securing an international career.

Why to Consider the IELTS Exam?

Here are some pointers that aptly define the relevance of taking this exam, when many other English evaluation tests are also in competition.

Trustworthy for its fair assessment for consistent years.

Available in both paper-based or computer-based mode.

Uses various accents for global exposure.

IELTS offers admission in thousands of universities in more than 140 countries.

Best for undergraduate, foundational, postgraduates, or general courses.

Standalone entrance test, depending on your career field and university criteria.

Proves your everyday English ability when applying for immigration or visa.

Numerous institutes offer IELTS coaching in Dubai with access to global test centres.

Tests your ability according to the context of your chosen test, i.e. it analyses your English ability in an academic environment with the Academic test. However, it checks your English adept in daily conversations with General Training.

Descriptive band score that tells your strengths and areas of improvement.

Format of IELTS Test

Now, let’s focus on the IELTS format which divides the test in four sections.

1.    Listening (30 minutes):

This part of the exam tests your English comprehension in various contexts. It determines whether you are able to understand English in social, academic, and general conversations.

You will most often hear monologues or conversations between people to answer multiple-choice, matching, diagram labelling, or form completion tasks. The audio plays once which requires effective note-taking skills within a limited time. The IELTS coaching in Abu Dhabi can help you prepare for the exam with practice tests.

2.    Reading (60 minutes):

This section is different as per the version you are appearing for the exam. IELTS Academic have paragraphs from books, newspapers, or journals. On the other hand, General Training will have texts from ads, guidebooks, workplace documents, or general interest).

The reading section prompts you to answer multiple choice, sentence completion, matching headings and other similar types of questions.

3.    Writing (60 minutes):

Similar to the reading section, the writing sections in both General training and Academic versions are slightly different. The former type contains letter writing in formal or informal tone in response to a situation, along with essay writing for a given problem.

On the other hand, the latter version comprises a summary task for visual information and essay writing for a given problem.

It is useful to start your preparation with a renowned IELTS coaching in Abu Dhabi to work on your sentence cohesion, vocabulary, and grammar.

4.    Speaking (10-15 minutes):

Last but not the least, the speaking section is not a system-based test. Rather, you will be presented with a human evaluator who will ask for your introduction. The expert also tests your speaking skills on specific topics, knowledge, and accent within a limited time.

Scoring System: Band Score

Ultimately, the marking system in the IELTS exam is straightforward. You must expect a band, ranging from 0-9. The higher the English proficiency, the higher will be the band score you can expect. Each section (Listening, Reading, Writing, and Speaking) has an individual banding while the overall score is the average of individual scores.

Final Words

We hope you found this blog useful. Coming to an end, it is clear that the IELTS exam is a useful and relevant test to fulfil your career opportunities and allows you to settle abroad.

We have walked you through a complete guide on the IELTS exam, its format, and scoring. Now, take the next move — enrol in IELTS coaching in Dubai or Abu Dhabi to get started.

[qnewsau]

Liza Minnelli to release tell-all memoir

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/liza-minnelli-to-release-tell-all-memoir/

Liza Minnelli to release tell-all memoir

Liza Minnelli is to release a memoir after a “sabotaged Oscars appearance” left her “mad as hell”.

The 78-year-old will release the book in the first half of 2026, which will take readers through her famous family, her career, struggles with substance abuse, and love life.

“Since I was old enough to put pencil to paper, people asked me to write books about my career,” Minnelli said in a statement to  PEOPLE.

“‘Absolutely not! ‘Tell it when I’m gone!’ Was my philosophy,” the star adds.

However, a “series of unfortunate events” changed her mind when it comes to writing about her “life, loves and family.”

Those included, according to Minnelli, “a sabotaged appearance at the Oscars,” “a film with twisted half-truths ” and “a recent miniseries that just didn’t get it right … All made by people who didn’t know my family, and don’t really know me.”

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by Liza Minnelli (@officiallizaminnelli)

“Finally, I was mad as hell!” the star continued. “Over dinner one night, I decided, it’s my own d— story … I’m gonna share it with you because of all the love you’ve given me.”

Minnelli is one of just 25 people to have won an EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony Award) and is best known for 1972’s Cabaret, her TV concert film Liza With A Z and Martin Scorsese’s 1977 musical-drama New York, New York.

In the early 2000s, she had a recurring role in the satirical sitcom Arrested Development.

Despite her recent challenges, Liza’s memoir is set to be a love letter to her fans.

With a wink toward lyrics from Cabaret’s Maybe This Time Minnelli said that now, “after incredible events and life-threatening battles … I am truly ‘Lady Peaceful, Lady Happy.'”

“Thank you all for loving me so much … being concerned about me,” she said.

“I want you to know I’m still here, still kicking a–, still loving life and still creating. So, until this book arrives, know that I’m laughing, safe in every way, surrounded by loved ones and excited to see what’s right around the curve of life.

“Kids, wait ‘til you hear this.”

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by Liza Minnelli (@officiallizaminnelli)

Read More:

Friends of Dorothy: Judy Garland, PRIDE icon

This weekend, New York City had its first homosexual riots

Rave reviews for new Liza Minnelli documentary

TV Review: Halston, nothing but Glitter and Hot Air

On this day: Janet Gaynor & Hollywood’s lavender marriages

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[openingpandorasbox1]

AUTUMN PART 2 (7)

Before Samuel got involved with his girlfriend she had her tubes tied because she didn’t want to have any more children. Autumn was paranoid and worried about her brother’s relationship with his girlfriend because she hated her. Autumn told me she looked at Samuel’s phone (Autumn loved to snoop) and she read messages between him and his girlfriend and she said that Samuel was begging his girlfriend to get the operation undone (her tubes untied) so she could have children with him. She wrote to him that she didn’t want to have any more children and he replied, “What about what I want? I want my own children”. Autumn was freaking out about this and was worried he was going to have children with her. I told her that his girlfriend didn’t want to have any more children and she had already had the procedure done to ensure she wouldn’t have children again. I told her she wouldn’t have done this unless she was strongly against the idea of having more children. I thought it was for the best that this woman didn’t have any more children and certainly not any children with Samuel.

                Samuel later moved out of the family home, to Autumn’s relief and moved in with his girlfriend and they were talking about getting married. It was during this time that Autumn and my friendship was coming to an end because of how she was about her brother and because all the other shit she was doing (which I wrote about in Part 1). Samuel’s girlfriend added me on Facebook but Autumn told her to unfriend me straight away which is what she did. She was only on my Facebook for a split second when I no longer associated with Autumn (this was roughly around 2010). I don’t recall what Samuel’s girlfriend’s name was (even though I don’t use real names on my blog) however I do remember before our friendship came to an end that Autumn told me that Samuel’s girlfriend was trying to become friends with Autumn. Autumn probably told her to have nothing to do with me. Samuel never had a Facebook account or any other internet account that I was aware of, he didn’t use Facebook, Twitter or anything like that. He was always mysterious.

                It was around this time when my Dad and Autumn’s mother, Donna had a falling out and broke up. The timing was a blessing. I no longer had to have Autumn and Samuel in my life and they were no longer connected to me through my father’s marriage with their mother.

                It was roughly a year or two later on Australia Day that Sharon, Keith and I (and their children) were at the club just to catch up and have a few drinks. Sharon and I both noticed that Samuel was there with his girlfriend and his two daughters and she clearly looked pregnant. When we both noticed she was pregnant, I thought, “Oh shit”. We were both worried about the child that was going to be born and Sharon told me that I should contact the police and I told her I had already contacted them twice about him and I don’t know if they did anything. If they did, I wasn’t aware of it. She told me to contact them again, so I did. Instead of writing it on their website, which seemed useless I just wrote the whole thing down on paper in my own handwriting and gave them names, addresses and all the information that I’ve written here. I also gave them Autumn’s name and Claire’s name because they were both witnesses as well. I also told them to start asking questions, look into his computer, look at his searches, question the children, question everyone involved and I told them to question the girl’s father who had vandalized Autumn’s cat’s grave and left that letter. Even though I had no evidence of what Samuel was doing I knew there were people who knew about it. I also knew that there were probably people out there who knew about it (that I wasn’t aware of). I don’t understand why nobody was contacting the police. I sent it to the police (local police). I didn’t know where Samuel was living at the time but I did know where Autumn and her father was living the last time I had interacted with her so I gave them that address. I also didn’t know where Claire was living because she and Gary were always breaking up and moving, however I gave the police whatever information I could.

[king-of-knives]

Use of chatgtp is mostly wild to me because I never downloaded it and then I went to college and realized that in the past two years which I spent reading around 400 book, literal and fanfiction and it is books because they're literally novel length, and writing more than a 150 poems, there were people who went from asking Google what is capital of Australia to asking chatgtp what is the capital of Australia AND IT IS WILD BECAUSE THAT ISNT EVEN THE PURPOSE OF CHATGTP......

I was astonished because when we get asked to write 3 syllable words people ask chatgtp instead of Google and End up writing words with wrong number of syllables and its a pity that they got so used to asking chatgtp to answer thier math questions gk questions essays letters, that they forgot what search engine is for, what calculator is for why tf are you asking chatgtp to do avg for you that what people learn in 5th or 6th grade, why do you have to ask an ai to what to message your colleagues, why do you have this amazingly written report under your name when you can't even tell the meaning or pronunciation of 40% of the words which are in it, when you wouldn't be caught dead forming any sentence alike to that irl?

I read so many papers on ai last semester to write my research project and they were SCREAMING AI IS MEANT TO HELP YOU IF YOU USE IT CORRECTLY but nowhere did they say we should ask it to write our papers, they were fuming with AI IS TO BE USED TO MAKE YOUR TEDIOUS TASKS EASIER NOT TO MAKE YOU STOP DOING YOUR WORK IT IS NOT THERE TO MAKE U A USELESS DUMBFUCK

And the end I wrote something along the lines that not using ai might be impossible but if you cannot work without it, AI isn't helping you it is deteriorating your minds progress and if you are relying on AI you'll never get ahead of it and that means we're all going backwards because people before ai were definitely smarter because they never needed it, so remember whatever good thing that can come from AI was/is actually made by humans who didn't need AI and if they didn't you most probably don't either.

I did a group project once and I made a list of what everyone has to search up a paragraph on for the panel, I gave examples I wrote 30-50 words on each topic as a guidance for my group on what kind of things they need to prepare and I did it without internet on spot and i was pissed and disappointed when they pulled up with an AI generated Mashup of every point I had given and literally all 5 of us said the same fucking thing under 5 different topics and I hated every second of it and I've never hated myself more I was more disappointed in myself than in them I wish I had gotten a zero on that assignment because that is what it deserved , and if by lords mercy I can choose to never have a group assignment I will die happily and if I do have to ill eat my foot before I leave it to people who use chatgtp I will write the whole thing if needs be but I cannot for the life in me have a do over like last time my soul died, I wanted to throw my phone and my laptop and smash my head against the wall.

I will die before I use ai for anything, IT CANT EVEN TRANSLATE LIKE SERIOUSLY JUST USE FUCKING GOOGLE TRANSLATE ON A WHOLE SENTENCE OR PARAGRAPH AND ASK SOMEONE WHOS FAMILIAR WITH THE LANGUAGE TO REVIEW IT BECAUSE ITLL BE 100% MORE ACCURATE THAN THAT DUMB AI.

And seriously if you can't write 500-1000 words over a topic by yourself when you've all the knowledge in the world on tips of your finger only if you search for it at the right place, or write a 200 word report on how you did your project??? You need to seriously reconsider how much time you've wasted away in the name of praising AI instead of improving your intelligence

There was a time when my mother used to get angry at me for using goggle to get my answers instead of using books, and now I get angry on my mother for asking chatgtp to make gk questions instead of just asking random gk questions to Google whose answers she doesn't know to make a paper. How i wish my mother would stop telling me to go to the library and went to one herself.