#longish post sorry but i find it very fascinating!

[cruyffista]

often when i'm watching football-related videos or reading newspaper articles from the 90s i think to myself, damn i wish social media existed so that i could understand the reaction that the general audience had to these events. and then i realised that social media did (kind of) exist! but in the form of usenet newsgroups.

early internet users would discuss soccer results and news on groups like rec.sport.soccer, es.rec.deportes, alt.sports.soccer.european or it.sport.calcio (and many more!).

(screenshots of newsreaders that were used to access usenet groups in the 80s and 90s)

thankfully we can still access usenet posts via google's archive, so it's fascinating to see the things people were discussing in the 90s.

for example: was marco van basten overrated? according to this user from 1993 (who would have loved reddit, probably) he was.

it's also pretty interesting to see people's reactions to defining soccer moments that we take for granted, such as baggio's penalty miss against brazil in 1994. most users were pretty understanding of baggio and felt sorry that he had to lose in such a tragic way.

there's also the usual hate posts directed at players (with some casual homophobia). here's one from a real madrid fan directed to luis enrique:

and of course, there are still endless debates about who the better players were between two footballers (eg gary lineker vs marco van basten), who the top 10 players of the decade were and who deserved to win what award at the end of the year.

i think it's kind of surprising how football discussions haven't really changed in the past couple of decades. people still argue about tactics, about players being better in the past, about coaches who allegedly know nothing and about annoying fans of rival teams. of course, in the past football fans still had zines, VHS tapes, magazines and newspapers with which they could engage in football content, whereas football content in the 2020s seems to have centralized onto social media. i wonder if those usenet users in the 90s knew that their form of communication would become the basis of sports discourse for the next thirty years.

[alice-beaumont-ravenclaw]

História

A/N #1: Finally! Fic number 3 of the Brazil series! I apologize for the wait. Let’s just say that stuff happened after I posted the second fic of the series that kinda zapped my creativity. Anyway, now I am back! 

Hottest Spot South of Havana (Part 1, Part 2) |  A Wonderful Surprise

Word count: ≈3000

Alice’s outfit

Alice could perceive the sunlight through her closed eyelids, but she didn’t want to open them just yet. Wanting to enjoy the warmth of the bed some more, she turned around, thinking her pillow felt firmer than she remembered. Her nose detected a familiar smell that reminded her of the sweater she slept in during cold winter nights at Hogwarts. Her boyfriend’s sweater. Charlie’s smell…

Charlie!

Her eyes opened up at that realization, landing on a sleeping freckled face with messy longish red hairs framing it. What was she doing in the same bed as Charlie? Where was Penny? In fact, where exactly was she? She did not recognize the room she was in as she quickly glanced around. As her mind was going at lightning speed, trying to remember how she ended up here, she looked under the covers. Thank Merlin, they still had their pyjamas on. Lost in those thoughts, she felt the pillow underneath her head shift slightly. She soon realized the “pillow” was actually Charlie’s shoulder, and as she slowly looked up towards his face, her green eyes met his warm brown eyes.

“Good morning,” said Charlie.

Alice stared at him, silent, her eyes wide.

“Why are you…?” started asking Charlie before being hit by a realization. He smirked. “You don’t remember how you ended up in my bed, do you?”

Alice shook her head, still staring at her boyfriend.

“Well, you missed my body so much, you just couldn’t help yourself…” started saying Charlie biting his lower lip to stifle a laugh he could feel coming as he saw Alice’s cheeks turn pink.

“What?!” exclaimed Alice, sitting up in the bed holding her face. “Oh, Merlin! They won’t stop teasing after…” She then heard Charlie’s laughter behind her. “Charlie Weasley!” she exclaimed, grabbing the pillow underneath his arm. “How dare you scare me like that?!” she added, throwing the pillow at Charlie’s face.

Charlie barely dodged the pillow as he sat up, still chuckling. “Sorry, it was just too easy, and you’re so cute when you blush,” he said, hugging her and giving her rosy cheek a small peck.

“Honestly, though, how did I end up here?”

“I was sleepy myself when you joined me, but if I remember, you were woken up by Tonks and Tulip getting ready for their hiking expedition, and I think you weren’t able to go back to sleep because of the racket they were making. So you came here,” explained Charlie.

“Oh… Yeah… I remember now. Tonks tripped over an ottoman in the living room; Tulip burst out laughing, followed by Tonks; Dennis escaped Tulip’s pocket, so they started looking all over the room for him while Penny and I just watched. I vaguely remember Penny suggesting I go over to your room since the boys were already waiting outside, so it would be peaceful,” said Alice, scratching her head.

“Feeling you cuddle up to me was a nice way to go back to sleep,” said Charlie, kissing the top of her head. “Are you sure you want to go to the museum today? I wouldn’t mind spending the day in bed with you,” his lips brushing against her neck.

“Charlie!” exclaimed Alice, scooting away from him. “Penny and Andre are probably out there waiting for us!”

“And it looks like Andre brought your outfit in here while we were sleeping,” said Charlie, noticing clothes neatly laid out on the armchair close to the window.

“All the more reason to not make them wait with… whatever you had in mind. They could come in at any moment.”

“Fine,” said Charlie as he started to remove his t-shirt.

Alice let out a small gasp as she backed away some more, only to find out she had reached the edge of the bed. She fell backward, the little thump it made alerting Charlie. He turned around and saw Alice’s ankles and feet above the bed.

“Alice, are you…?” 

Before he could finish his sentence, Alice raised a thumbs up to indicate she was okay, making the both of them laugh. They quickly got dressed, Alice using magic to get her hair into a braid. 

“I’m surprised Andre picked out the overall for the museum. When we were in Paris, he wanted to dress me in couture when we went to the Louvres,” said Alice as they left the bedroom.

“That’s because I know you and also because I thought we might walk around where the museum is after visiting it,” said Andre, who was sitting on the couch, sipping his cup of coffee.

“How… how long have you been sitting there?” asked Alice, frozen in place.

“Since I’ve been done with breakfast on the terrace with Penny,” said Andre, nodding towards the open doors leading to the terrace where Penny was still sitting, reading a book. “You know, I could get used to this lifestyle,” added Andre as he got up, placing his empty cup on the saucer on the marble top of the coffee table.

“We know,” said Alice and Charlie in unison.

“The two lovebirds have decided to join us?” asked Penny as she closed the doors of the terrace behind her.

“Seems like it,” said Andre as he held the door of the suite for Penny, Alice sticking her tongue at her Hufflepuff friend.

Alice and Charlie walked a few steps behind them as they made their way to the elevator.

“Good thing you didn’t give in to me earlier,” whispered Charlie.

Alice simply nodded, her eyes on their two friends waiting for them next to the lift.

After arriving at the Museu Histórico Nacional, they made their way to the inner courtyard, where carriages, probably used by the nobility back during the colonization and the Empire periods, were on display. Andre seemed to find them quite interesting as he stopped to look at them in detail, Penny staying with him as Alice and Charlie walked inside.

They slowly made their way around the permanent exhibits, which seemed to be divided into three periods: pre-colonization, colonization, and independence. The pre-colonization rooms mostly had native artifacts and prehistoric cave paintings. The rooms that pertained to the colonization period contained portraits of Iberian royals, including an equestrian depiction of Philip II of Spain, who ruled during part of the Iberian Union period between Spain & Portugal. There were also displays showing the extent of slavery in the colony as it was a big part of the economy back in those days.

“What’s slavery?” asked Charlie as they passed miniature models representing the slave trade.

Alice stopped in her tracks, turning around. “You don’t know? Actually, I shouldn’t be surprised. Grand-papa always said wizards live in a bubble. Well, in general, slaves are human beings that are owned by other human beings, and they are treated like property and traded as such. They have no rights. Slavery has existed for centuries, but back during the colonization period, Africans were taken by Europeans as slaves and were used in the colonies as cheap labour. That’s a very succinct summary of it.”

“How awful! Why would Muggles do that?”

“Greed? But it’s not like wizards are perfect. While a majority of house-elves love doing their work and find the idea of compensation insulting, the way some families treat them is… despicable,” said Alice, frowning, as she turned back and walked into the next room, Charlie following her.

They eventually reached the rooms that covered Brazil’s independence period, starting with a life-sized statue of Emperor Pedro I and the text of his acceptance letter to stay in Brazil in the early 1800s, marking the beginning of the country's independence period. There were also paintings representing naval military scenes, one of which seemed to have caught Charlie’s attention as he stood there, looking at it.

Alice, noticing he wasn’t close to her anymore, walked over to him to see what could be so fascinating about that painting. “Are there any dragons?” she said, a small smirk raising the corner of her mouth.

“What? No,” he said with a small chuckle. “No, it’s just most paintings we’ve seen so far represented daytime scenes, but this one is a nighttime scene. There’s something… enchanting about it, I guess, with only the moonlight illuminating the scene.”

“How poetic of you, Charlie Weasley,” said Alice, her lips forming a tender smile. 

“I have my moments,” said Charlie, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“But you’re right. The moonlight does have something magical. This reminds me… You know the book I was reading yesterday at the lovely library you brought me to?”

“The Brazilian fairytales one? Yes, I remember. What about it?”

“Well, there was this story about how night came.”

“It comes when the sun goes down, no?”

“Well, yes, but it’s a story about how the phenomenon that is night came to be, because at the very beginning of time, the story said, it was day all the time. There was no night.”

“Really? And how does it explain the arrival of night?” asked Charlie as they sat on the bench near the nighttime scenery.

“Well, the daughter of the Great Sea Serpent, who dwelt in the depths of the seas, married a human,” started Alice. “She left her home among the shades of the deep seas and came to live with her husband on earth, in the land of daylight. Because she wasn’t used to that much daylight, her eyes grew weary of the bright sunlight and her beauty faded. That saddened her husband, as he did not know what to do.

“‘O, if night would only come,’ she moaned as she tossed about wearily on her couch. ‘Here it is always day, but in my father’s kingdom, there are many shadows. O, for a little of the darkness of night!’

“Her husband listened to her and asked, ‘What is night? Tell me about it, and perhaps I can get a little of it for you.’

“‘Night,’ said the daughter of the Great Sea Serpent, ‘is the name we give to the heavy shadows which darken my father’s kingdom in the sea. I love the sunlight of your earth land, but I grow very tired of it. If we could have only a little of the darkness of my father’s kingdom to rest our eyes part of the time.’

“Her husband quickly called his three most faithful slaves. ‘I am about to send you on a journey,’ he told them. ‘You are to go to the kingdom of the Great Sea Serpent who lives in the depths of the seas and ask him to give you some of the darkness of night so that his daughter may not die here amid the sunlight of our land.’

“The three slaves made their way to the kingdom of the Great Sea Serpent. After a long, perilous journey, they arrived at his home in the depths of the seas and asked him to give them some of the shadows of night to carry back to the earth. The Great Sea Serpent gave them a big bag full at once. It was securely fastened, and the Great Sea Serpent warned them not to open it until they were once more in the presence of his daughter, their mistress.”

“I have a feeling they didn’t listen,” interrupted Charlie.

“You would be correct. So, the three slaves started out, bearing the big bag full of night upon their heads, but they soon heard strange sounds within the bag. It was the sound of the voices of all the night beasts, all the night birds, and all the night insects. It sounded like the night chorus from the jungles on the banks of the rivers to give you an idea. But as night was something no one had ever experienced on land, the three slaves had never heard sounds like those in all their lives. They were terribly frightened.

“‘Let us drop the bag full of night right here where we are and run away as fast as we can,’ said the first slave.

“‘We shall perish. We shall perish, anyway, whatever we do,’ cried the second slave.

“‘Whether we perish or not, I am going to open the bag and see what makes all those terrible sounds,’ said the third slave.”

“Oh, Merlin…” interjected Charlie.

“So,” continued Alice, “they laid the bag on the ground and opened it. Out rushed all the night beasts and all the night birds and all the night insects and out rushed the great black cloud of night. The slaves were more frightened than ever at the darkness and escaped to the jungle.

“The daughter of the Great Sea Serpent was waiting anxiously for the return of the slaves with the bag full of night. Ever since they had started out on their journey, she had looked for their return, shading her eyes with her hand and gazing away off at the horizon, hoping with all her heart that they would arrive quickly to bring the night. In that position, she was standing under a royal palm tree when the three slaves opened the bag and let night escape. ‘Night comes. Night comes at last,’ she cried, as she saw the clouds of night upon the horizon. Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep there under the royal palm tree.

“When she awoke, she felt greatly refreshed. She was once more the happy princess who had left her father’s kingdom in the depths of the great seas to come to the land. She was now ready to see the day again. She looked up at the bright star shining above the royal palm tree and said, ‘O, bright, beautiful star, from now on you shall be called the morning star, and you shall herald the approach of day. You shall reign queen of the sky at this hour.’

“Then she called all the birds about her and said to them, ‘O, wonderful, sweet singing birds, henceforth I command you to sing your sweetest songs at this hour to herald the approach of day.’ The cock was standing by her side. ‘You,’ she said to him, ‘shall be appointed the watchman of the night. Your voice shall mark the watches of the night and shall warn the others that the madrugada comes.’ To this very day in Brazil, we call the early morning the madrugada. The cock announces its approach to the waiting birds. The birds sing their sweetest songs at that hour, and the morning star reigns in the sky as queen of the madrugada.

“Once it was daytime again, the slaves came out of their hiding place. Their master turned them into monkeys for having disobeyed the Great Sea Serpent by not opening the bag only in the presence of his daughter. To this very day, one sees the mark upon the monkeys’ lips, where they bit off the wax which sealed the bag; and in Brazil, night leaps out quickly upon the earth just as it leapt quickly out of the bag in those days at the beginning of time. And all the night beasts and night birds and night insects give a sunset chorus in the jungles at nightfall.”

“Wait… Did a Muggle really write that? There are a lot of elements in there that seem magical,” pointed out Charlie, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, most Muggle fairytales have magical elements. It’s like they know about us and our world without really knowing… Like when you heard The Sorcerer’s Apprentice at the Proms. You said how the music really fit the feeling of magic, even though a Muggle composed it. Perhaps people can feel it without realizing it, and some things we see in their tales come from the days when Muggles knew more about us, but now that knowledge is viewed as pure fantasy instead of truth,” said Alice, her eyes brightening.

“Maybe… Wait, aren’t sea serpents a type of dragon?” asked Charlie, smiling broadly.

“Hmm? Oh, hum, yes, I think so, but you’re the expert on the matter,” said Alice, her eyes on the painting, but her thoughts on something else.

“So based on that story, we have nights because of a dragon?”

Alice stared at him, quirking her eyebrows. “I guess so…”

“Cool,” said Charlie, nodding his head in satisfaction.

Alice shook her head slightly, biting her lower lip to avoid laughing. Of course, the dragon would be the one thing to stick with Charlie. Lost in their respective thoughts, neither of them noticed Penny and Andre making their way to them.

“There you are!” exclaimed Penny, standing in front of them, her hands on her hips.

“I am starving,” said Andre, holding his stomach.

“Sorry, we didn’t see the time,” said Alice, as she got up with Charlie.

Penny rolled her eyes, smirking. “You two don’t seem to notice the time go by when you’re together.”

“Shut up,” mumbled Alice, taking a hold of Penny’s arm.

“Did you know that there’s a story that says a dragon is the reason we have nights,” said Charlie as he walked in front of them with Andre.

“Ok, maybe in Charlie’s case, it’s when dragons are involved that he forgets about the concept of time,” whispered Penny, making Alice snort with laughter.

After eating lunch at the museum’s café, they looked at the other exhibits before returning to the hotel. The rest of the afternoon was spent around the pool as they waited for their friends, Charlie wanting to tell Barnaby about the dragon story. Alice stared at the same page of her book all that time, her mind still on fairytales and their origin...

A/N #2: Thank you for reading my fic! I hope you enjoyed it! Now, before someone comments one what Alice says regarding house-elves, I based it on this article. The fairytale Alice tells is from HERE and the painting that catches Charlie’s attention is THIS ONE.  The reason the title is “História” is because in Portuguese, it means both “history” and “story,” which I felt worked with the story. Feel free to leave a comment, including constructive criticism.

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

Headcanon: Julian Bashir is autistic and has frequent sensory overload, and the only two people who can help him are Garek and O’ Brien. Me? Projecting? It’s more likely than you think!!!

Ha, moooood. Which on that note I have a somewhat intense fic here in which Julian has a meltdown. It’s not related to sensory issues so much as “oh boy a lot of shit’s happened to him” but if you want more O'Brien helping him out after this – so because we gave that fic to O'Brien, let’s give this one to Garak.

Also can we talk about the fact that it’s canon that Julian and the other augments can hear sounds at decibels that non-augments can’t and that it causes them pain, but Julian just taught himself to not react, like fuck, how did someone write this and not follow through on Julian-Bashir-is-autistic-and-or-otherwise-nd!

sorry for taking so long, a. this got a bit longish so it’s under a cut and b. I got distracted by the fact that I always want to see everyone’s notes on reblogs in case of interesting discussion points and i have just now learnt that that cannot be done easily if a lot of people reblog at once… oh hyper-fixation how you get me time and again

this takes place post-Doctor Bashir I Presume and alludes to the fact that during this time Garak and Bashir’s interactions were gradually stripped away in the show (because it too gay) - Andy Robinson ran with that in A Stitch In Time and had Garak write about how much he regretted the two of them not remaining close/hinted that he was in love with him… so take that background as you will.

—— More Space ——-

Thank goodness, he thought after an indeterminate amount of time. O'Brien was here. He would be able to calm him down, he would know how to come up with some soothing description of exactly which of DS9’s pistons or pipes or programs was currently making that noise and he’d either fix it or stay with him until it sorted itself out. Or maybe the noise was gone and the residual whining was just himself recreating it perfectly in his head, or maybe he was just too far gone by now for it to matter, but O'Brien would help. Since the two of them had become friends and some of Julian’s old ticks had returned after his augmentation had come to light, Miles had been a surprisingly steady presence in his life.

“Doctor?”

No, not Miles.

Garak.

He couldn’t make himself respond. His body felt like it was compressing him into a vice, with all his ability to focus somehow splintered into a million shards, each of them painful to the touch. Oh no, what if Garak touched him? If Garak touched him right now he might shatter or scream or something else entirely outside of his control, but talking was also impossible right now, so he couldn’t ask him not to touch, please don’t touch-

Garak sat down in front of him, far enough away that it didn’t feel like too… much.

“Doctor. You don’t need to say or do anything.”

He could manage that.

“I was wondering why you’d missed our lunch date. Very pleased to find you didn’t simply opt not to come without telling me, although I find the alternative to be distressing.”  He stopped talking for a moment then. “Apologies for breaking into your room. Again.”

While Garak simply sat and occasionally spoke Julian was dimly aware of the fact that he could feel his edges hardening again. The shards were being pulled back together.

He also noticed now that he was freezing. It usually happened like that, having sat sedentary for however long or coming down from some emotional extreme. He shivered.

“This station is cold,” said Garak.“The temperature, the lights, the people… all too cold.”

Julian managed a smile and it was like his mouth was freed from a curse. “It is, isn’t it.”

“Not to mention loud,” Garak added.

“All that machinery,” Julian nodded and spoke slowly. His mouth still needed to unstick. “Every time an alarm goes it’s like a sharp pain… I used to be… much better at this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I used to… I used to get these all the time as a child. Meltdowns, shutdowns, I think. But then my parents told me later that it was a side-effect of the augmentations and I tried to… to will myself to stop them, to bypass my natural instincts in order to not be found out and it worked, in a way, or at least nobody found out. I familiarised myself with and categorised any sights, sounds, smells, feelings I came across on earth during my Starfleet training and ordered them into lists and sublists: What I could handle mostly, what I could handle sometimes, what I needed to avoid at all costs. I managed to… to pretend. And then I came to Deep Space Nine and for awhile it was all too much again, I had to make new lists, but I managed, I really… I really did, I really did, I really-” he was talking himself into hyperventilating again, he knew this, but he couldn’t stop now, “- and then I got captured and it was like everything just stopped. I barely- I don’t even remember most of it, but when I got back it was so much worse -”

“Julian,” said Garak and the sound of his first name coming from Garak’s mouth surprised him back to the now. “Julian,” said Garak again. “You’re here. With me. On a floor that is quite cold, I might add.”

Julian breathed out and mumbled under the exhale. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.”

“What is that,” asked Garak.

“Counting my fingers. It… helps.”

“Noted,” and the easy way in which Garak seemed to have just accepted that he would be helping Julian again in future was another shock to his system, but then why wouldn’t he? Even if they hadn’t met up as often as they used to. Even if he was untrustworthy at heart and Julian could never figure out why Garak wanted his company at all. He found he missed Garak’s simple and complicated nature. It grounded him, somehow.

He got up off the floor, reaching out for Garak when he stumbled. He held him just tight enough to make sure that he wouldn’t fall. Not overcrowding – Julian suddenly remembered that Garak was claustrophobic. He must know how easily sensory inputs could become too much.

At Garak’s questioningly soft hold on his arm, Julian nodded and he helped him to the sofa. “Would you like some water?”

Julian nodded. As Garak went to fetch it, he began to talk again. Somehow… he just needed to get it out now, like an excision. “After the truth came out my mother told me that they’d been lying. I mean, they’ve been lying about so much, but specifically about this. I’ve always been like this. Or. Some of it. The meltdowns. I thought… those memories weren’t real. But now they are? Some of them. I’m having trouble sorting them.”

Garak handed him the water.

“I developed a theory,” said Julian, forgetting to sip.

“Tell me your theory doctor,” said Garak, his tone of voice tender as he sat down beside him, again, close enough if he needed him, but not too close.

“I was wondering why a heightened inability to process inputs was a side-effect of the vast majority of augments, when I had this inability before my augmentation. I started to suspect that it was less to do with the augmentations and was simply… who we were. The augmentations gone wrong could throw that into extremes, but that may have more to do with medical trauma responses than… anyway, I can’t confirm until I have more data. I did research into my own developmental delays, the medical history – it’s fascinating how we repeat cycles actually, first it was considered a form of possession or changelings, then it began to be classed under a broad form of what would be known as schizophrenia, then divided into narrow and still somewhat inaccurate categories of autism, aspergers, adhd, add, high and low functioning etcera, and then was gradually broadened again under general brain-differences known as neuroatypicals or neurodiverse,” he took a breath and continued: “- I’m not too interested in 21st century history honestly, but I know the government upheavals affected medical classifications and concepts of what was known broadly as “disabilities” at the time, and that it fundamentally shifted again once we formed the federation. But then -” and here he started gesticulating widely in excitement or outrage - “it all becomes the same just repackaged, doesn’t? Stigma against augments who are overwhelmingly people like me is stigma against neurodiversity is stigma against the “possessed,” it’s…” he trailed off. “It’s all the same,” he finished lamely.

He’d become very aware suddenly that he’d done that thing that annoyed most of the people he ever conversed with, running his mouth while forgetting the other person. But Garak didn’t seem annoyed. He was listening intently, in fact. At the pause he even nodded and offered: “The history of such matters is different on Cardassia. Or rather, mental and developmental differences don’t get acknowledged on Cardassia.”

“Eugenics?” said Julian with a frown.

“Not as such. We don’t mind in theory, as long as everyone can perform the tasks they’re assigned to. It’s a… class thing. If you belong to a powerful family and are expected to do great things in the army or politics or the sciences, being unable to do so for any reason is usually – what is the term humans use? - “Swept under the rug.” But then someone like you, dear doctor, if you had been Cardassian it might surprisingly have been easier for you.”

Julian shook his head. “My abilities are due to my augmentations. I’d have been… I don’t know. Not me,” he said softly.

At that, Garak gave him a look that he couldn’t pin down. Something… surprised for a moment, almost? Then smoothed out into an enigmatic smile. “Perhaps. From what you tell me you’ve always processed like you do, you’ve just been given better tools to translate and more…” he searched for the word for a second, before landing on: “space.”

At that Julian burst out into an unexpected laugh. “I certainly have enough space out here. More than enough, I’d say.”

Garak’s smile deepened. “But it doesn’t matter. Either you were always going to be able to pursue medicine and the stigmas of your parents and surrounding society were preventing you from discovering that on your own, or your augmentations made you unlock new abilities. But on Cardassia someone with the kind of passion you possess would have done well, with or without them.”

“If I were born into the right class. And if I didn’t get arrested for being fundamentally against the militaristic state.”

“Naturally,” acceded Garak. “And I must say I’m quite relieved to find the incorruptible, perfect federation comes with its own flaws. One wouldn’t have expected it with the way humans constantly go on about it.”

“Oh, we go on about the federation? According to you Cardassia is superior in culture -”

“- oh, definitely -”

“- politics -”

“- without a doubt, my dear -”

“- criminal justice system?”

“- well, we’ve never brought a wrong case before the court-”

“- I know you’re just saying that to rile me up-”

“- my dear doctor, when have I ever been anything but sincere?”

“- when have you ever said anything you meant?”

“- I am offended, truly-” said Garak with a big grin on his face.

Julian found it the easiest thing in the galaxy to return.

“Remember to drink your water,” he was reminded, gently, before they continued their lunch discussion. It was a moment in which they both forgot that they had ever begun to drift apart in the first place.

—— The End ——-

[fixxofvixx]

TEACHING VIXX - CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN

Sorry everyone had to wait for so long! Being without my phone really put me behind.

Like I said, the first half of this chapter was written right after we saw Taekwoon with pink hair so I just had to do a little bit of fluff. The next chapter will jump ahead in time to the first ultrasound for the baby!

The next update will be Demon Leo which is already 60% completed. I hope to have it up in the next couple of days!

I hope you enjoy and please, please let me know what you think!!

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

You were so bored and tired. It had been a little over two weeks since the Blue Moon and the pregnancy was already taking its toll. You were scheduled to see a doctor that was familiar with hybrids in 3 months to check on the baby and hopefully find out the gender. Normally, one would go way before that but the first appointments are usually just to confirm that you were pregnant and in good health and you certainly didn't need that. However, it was killing you to not be able to tell your parents and you knew Taekwoon secretly wanted to tell his parents. Fortunately, he was busy preparing for a comeback. Unfortunately for you, you weren't. For a few days, you tried going with him to the company but you would tire quickly and eventually just end up taking a nap in one of the sound rooms. Nowadays, you would spend your time at home, trying to sort through the vast amounts of baby stuff that each member in VIXX felt compelled to buy.

Taekwoon had left early in the day for new stage outfit fittings and a new hairstyle. His hair was getting longish so you assumed they would cut it. Sometimes they didn't decide until they got to the stylist. You hoped it would be shorter since the weather was still blazing hot and longer hair bothered him. You wanted to chop all of your hair off but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. So as usual, today you had opted for shorts and a tshirt with your hair on top of your head.

After setting aside the latest box of baby things, this one from Hakyeon, you trudged to the kitchen in search of a snack. Thankfully, you didn't have cravings or morning sickness so any and all food was game. Taekwoon kept trying to shove food down your face in an effort to "keep your energy up and feed the baby". You adjusted your headphones on your head, put your phone in your pocket, and grabbed the small stool to reach the snacks you had hidden in the cabinets. It wasn't very high as it only raised your height about a foot more. It was the only stool that Taekwoon had 'allowed' you to use for fear of you falling. You had almost grabbed a bag of chips when you felt a hand slowly travel from the back of your knee and upwards to your thigh. You jumped slightly as another hand slid under the hem of your shirt and wrapped low around your hips.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Taekwoon's touch was unique and your body hummed when it felt it. He gently lifted you from the stool and placed you on your feet. He placed a lingering kiss on your neck before turning you to face him.

Your eyes widened at the site before you. Gone was Taekwoon's longish hair. What replaced it was a short cotton candy hairstyle. A slow smile spread across your face as the color was stunning on him. Your hand slowly came up to lightly run your fingers through it. The fringe fell into his eyes a bit but you could still see the beautiful green behind it. Somehow he was able to pull off a look that was equally as sexy as it was cute. The longer you stood there admiring it, the more his eyes began to glow. He raised his hands and took the headphones off and took your phone slowly out of your pocket, setting them aside. Turning back to you, he lowered his lips to yours quickly while his hands encased your hips.

Before he coud take the kiss further, a thought suddenly crossed your mind and you jerked away from him, laughing. The more you thought of it, the harder you laughed. You just couldn't help it. His face turned from lust to confusion quickly.

"What in the world are you laughing at?"

"I'm sorry," you pulled air in quickly to try to calm yourself, "its just that your hair....its pink...and you're a panther. You've become the Pink Panther!"

Another round of giggles bubbled up and you couldn' stop it. His eyes quickly turned red and a slow growl escaped his chest. He turned from you and made it to the living room before you could stop him.

"Wait! Don't be mad, please. I swear I'm not making fun of you! I like it! And the thought of you as the mischievous little Pink Panther was just too adorable to not laugh."

Your giggles ceased immediately when his eyes changed from red to pink. It was a different pink than when he was drunk. This color matched his hair perfectly. They also took on a beautiful glow that made your breath hitch in your throat.

"So, you want mischief, huh?" He stepped closer and smiled. You stopped backing away when your back hit the wall. His hands braced themselves on the wall on either side of your head. He moved even closer, running his nose along your jaw. He placed a quick kiss on you neck before running his tongue along your tattoo. Your knees almost gave away Immediately you raised your hands and ruffled his hair.

"Well, cats are usually mischievous on their own. But a pink cat--or in this case a pink panther--is ten times as worse, I'm sure." Before he could come even closer, you tapped your finger on his nose and ran towards the bedroom.

Fingers lightly ran up and down your spine accompanied by the occasional quiet laugh. Curious, you turned to the owner of the fingers to find him on his phone while absentmindedly sending warm caresses over your body.

You sat up, running your fingers through your hair and wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"What are you laughing about?"

Taekwoon looked at you but his expression was hard to read. He looked amused but you didn't know why.

"Just something Hyukkie sent me."

"Oh really, what is it?"

"Well, since you asked. He tends to rummaged the internet for starlight things like artwork and stories and such. One of his favorite sites to go to is something called....uh....tumbler, but without the e. Have you heard of it?"

Your heart dropped as it looked like Taekwoon was barely containing his excitement. Dread filled your body as you snatched his phone from his hands. Sure enough, he was on your old tumblr page, browsing through the content. Posts of varying degrees of fangirling littered the blog. What was worse was that he had been reading a short story you had written of him. Horrified, you instantly reached for your phone, intent on deleting the page altogether. Before you could even unlock your phone, Taekwoon was over you, taking your phone and placing it back on the table. When you reached for it again, he took your wrists, pinning them to the bed.

"Don't delete it. I want to read it."

"I-I don't think that's a good idea. It's so outdated, you know? And.....and...."

"And you don't want me to see what you wrote."

His green eyes were full of mirth. Ever since you had started in on him about the pink panther thing. You had changed his ringtone to the pink panther theme as well as his phone wallpaper. As a result, the other members had taken to teasing him about as well. So Taekwoon spent his days lately trying to find ways to get his revenge. The feeling in the pit of your stomach now was that he had finally found something.

"It's not that. I just think that maybe....um..."

"You know, it takes me a while to read it because I have to run it through a translator first. But, what I have read and seeing the pictures you put up on there, you seem to have been quite fond of me. The story I was reading when you woke up worries me. I'm concerned that perhaps all of your fantasies have yet to be fulfilled. Now, I'm willing to go through this and help you out. However, I'm a little concerned with the stuff you put up about the other members."

"I gave appreciation where I saw fit." Fire burned your cheeks. You never dreamed that he would have found that page.

"Yes, I see that. Although I am happy to see that the majority was me. You stopped updating after we met. Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I just didn't think about it. I should have just deleted it."

"Don't do that. At least hold off until I can read through it. I think its fascinating to see what you thought and wrote."

"But you're going to use it against me!"

"You're damn right I am." He was fully laughing now. "I'm going to read everything you put on that page and memorize it. I'm going to read your stories and memorize those too. Once I do that, then I will bring to life every one of those fantasies you had that is humanly possible."

His last sentence sent tingles straight to your toes. You knew very well what you had written and you knew he would do exactly what he promised.

[awhilesince]

Monday, 8 February 1830

9 35/60

3 10/60

incurred a cross just before getting up but did it idly thinking of (Pi – Mariana) pretty straight to Miss H– (Hobart) on the subject of Mr Long – mention sending letter for Miss MacL– (MacLean) 

“If she is at all fit to bear the journey, do pray get her off here as soon as you can – you know I have no faith in Mr Long – His system, if system it can be called, seems to me so utterly unreasonable, that I wonder more and more by what spell it is that he can so fascinate some of his patients – Limited as is my knowledge of medical subjects, it is still too considerable to allow of the possibility of my taking any part in Sibbella’s infatuation – I grieve over it very sincerely; and you will see with how much reason when the bubble bursts – But name not this to her – she already reproaches me for the manner in which I have spoken and written on the subject to Lady Stuart, tho’ she knows quite well how much I have abstained from saying for her sake alone – She is past conviction, past persuasion, and will probably cling, or apparently cling to his present opinions to the latest moment of her life – So long as her cough continues, she is not cured – I should not have written so much on the subject, had I not been struck by her then telling me, he is getting on …… he has a surprising number of patients, and yet not surprising, if his system is a true one” – If his system etc. – to me the thing seems not to admit an if – “wait, my dearest Vere – nous verrons – Do not let us irritate poor Sibbella by utterly useless opposition, but do not let her fancy that she gains any ground in adding us with the duke of Wellington Sir Gore Ouseley etc. etc. to the list of what she calls converts” – speaking of difficulty about getting Frankfort papers – there is a difficulty about its entrée into France – Treütel and Wurtz will not undertake the commission – nobody knows how soon I may be at Frankfort again, and do you believe I shall forget you! it is not my own conviction that my memory will ever be treacherous respecting anything that concerns meine liebe liebe Vere ever affectionately yours AL– Anne Lister”

Immediately after dressing this morning, breakfast – read over yesterday’s paper – off at 11 3/4  en passant George put into the Post Office my letter to Marian Shibden to the Hotel de Mont Blanc, 24 rue de la Paix – sat about 1/2 hour with Mr and Mrs and the younger Miss Pringle – nice Scotch people enough – sorry they are going in a few days – then a moment at the end of the Passage Choiseul – desired Normandie to come at 8 1/2 to dress my hair. Went to the bank (Laffitte’s) – exchanged 25/60 got cash for the 2nd of my 6 £50 circulars, and Mr Philips paid me on IN–‘s (Isabella Norcliffe’s) account for her stays and silver earrings and Mrs James Dalton’s black lace veil 287 francs – then direct to Amyot’s (the bookseller) to ask if volumes 9 and 10 Bourienne’s memoirs (as said Miss Hobart in her last) were defendus – no! – ordered Bichat’s anatomie generale – price 20/. to have it at 17/50. – got gloves at Privat’s, and home at 1 1/2 – changed my dress – and from about soon after 2 to 4 50/60 wrote a full 1/2 sheet to Miss Mac L– MacLean and a full 1/2 sheet to Miss H– (Hobart) from which last copied the above 17 or 18 first lines of today – the rest common chit chat – my letter to Miss MacL– (MacLean) a very kind delighted to hear such good accounts of her which made me almost impatient for her arrival – Had not yet got Miss MacKenzie’s address – not knowing the Duchess of Hamilton at all had asked Mrs Hamilton to get the address for me – thought from the little Mrs H– (Hamilton) had said of Miss MacK– (MacKenzie)  that perhaps she might suit me better than Miss MacLean seemed to fancy – perhaps we were rather similarly situated, and might be more or less necessary to happening – I did not mean to complain anymore Miss MacL– (MacLean) has cured me of that, but I certainly should like to have someone with me to whom my occasional visiting would not be too much – mentioned having sent off a small parcel of laces for M– (Mariana) and gave Miss MacL– (MacLean) M–‘s (Mariana’s) direction at Leamington – 

Just as I was finishing my letter to Miss Hobart came per petite poste from the embassy a letter 3 pages and one end from M– (Mariana) – dated 4th instant Warren’s hotel Regent street – she had been tempted to write by Miss MacL–‘s (MacLean’s) offer of sending her letter by the bag – they were to leave London the next day Friday 5th and be at Leamington the following day Saturday 6th – M– (Mariana) seems to have suffered first from one thing than another in the shape of bilious headache nervous ditto from seeing Miss Fanny Kemble in Belvidera, toothache etc. etc. London “beastly dirty” – should be glad to get out of it – the Ackers had joined them there – somehow I do not much like these people for M–‘s Mariana’s so often companion – 

“what think you of your friend Lord Graves’s wife and the duke “of Gloucester” (Cumberland she should have written) – there have been some capital caricatures – but it is said they have been bought up at the expense of £800, one of them was the duke as a resurrection man, and the title “the violator of the Graves at Windsor” – not bad was it? Have you seen and read the Exclusives it is said to be written by Lady Chalotte Bury, and I am told a very good picture of fashionable life, if so it is but a melancholy one at best, and does not excite my envy in any way – I hear Lady Stuart speaks highly of you, and all your kind attentions, you are a 1st favourite; you certainly have the art of charming where you please, my Fred, and therefore have not much reason to find fault with your destiny for I look upon it that you may pretty nearly make it what you please, may you carve such a one as may secure the happiness of us both, my only fear is that you will become so wedded to the world, as to lose all relish for more rational and less exciting enjoyments – I sometimes feel that the world would soon spoil me, and am wise enough at moments to be thankful that my path has not lain in it” – 

How little she knows my occupations and my mind! – How much she overates my powers! It seems Cameron has written to Watson – “she does not seem to anticipate ever being about to suit you” – M– (Mariana) regrets my having brought her – wants to know my opinion of her – nous verrons – Did not wait to notice to Miss H– (Hobart) the receipt of M–‘s (Mariana’s) letter but sent off George at 5 40/60 with my letter to “Miss Hobart Howarth Lady Stuart’s Whitehall” and in a rather smaller envelope within this my letter to “Miss Maclean” leaving Miss H– (Hobart) as usual to fill up the rest of the address –

Dinner at 5 50/60 – afterwards read partly aloud this afternoon’s newspaper (Galignani’s messenger) and came to my room at 7 1/2 – dressed – Normandie did not come till 8 55/60 instead of 8 1/2 – did not do my hair at all well – longish about it – above 1/2 hour – therefore not dressed till after 10 – Coffee – off at 10 1/4 – Lady V– (Vavasour) glad to see me – said I had been inquired for most anxiously – the 2 rooms full as usual – Styles, Halls, Murrays, a Mrs Balfour calling herself an old woman to whom I talked a little but was not introduced – Lady Ogelvie there whom I mistook for Mrs Harper at the Poores’ – not introduced – shall be cautious of asking to be introduced to anyone – vide last Thursday 

Pleasant evening enough – home at 11 50/60 – read from page 18 to 55 volume 1 Bichat then sat up musing over my letter to Miss H– (Hobart) and from M– (Mariana) and planning tomorrow with Miss MacL– (MacLean) in bringing her from Dieppe on her way here – or if she comes by Boulogne, could I not take my own horses and meet her at Amiens? Mr Pringle told me this morning that Lord Minto’s self registering thermometer marked one degree during the night or early in the morning of the 17th ultimo – Letter this morning from Misses Rawson Halifax in answer to my last – Mr Scatcherd paid £28 to them on my account on the 9th ultimo – wonder how I overlooked this – Soft but fair day – Fahrenheit 43° at 11 1/2 and at 3 p.m. and at midnight 41°

(SH:7/ML/E/12/0161)

https://www.catalogue.wyjs.org.uk/CalmView/Record.aspx?src=CalmView.Catalog&id=CC00001%2f7%2f9%2f6%2f12%2f161&pos=1

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: A Helping Hand From Beyond (1/?)

I said I would post the start of something new tonight, so here it is. I’ve been sitting on this one for a while. 

======

Summary: “You know, sometimes the deceased stay with us, waiting until they’re sure we’ve moved on before they can move on themselves. Giving us a helping hand from beyond, as it were.”

When Gloria Rush and Rum Gold meet one cold October morning, they quickly come to the realisation that they share a common goal – to help those they left behind in life to move on and find happiness again. Using what little means available to them, the two lost souls team up to ensure their widows’ future, and find their own peace.

Rumbelle, Rushbelle, Gloria/Nick.

Rated: T for now, but it might go up in later chapters. I have not yet decided.

NB: This fic will contain a lot of discussion of death and what comes after.

Also on AO3 here. 

======

A Helping Hand From Beyond

Chapter One

Two Meetings

There is a man sitting in her seat. Gloria tilts her head on one side, sizing him up. Late forties, early fifties, a few years older than her Nicholas. Clean-shaven with longish hair: brown fading to grey at the tips and temples. He is sitting very still, unnervingly still, legs apart like all men with a degree of self-confidence about the size of their package, gold-handled cane resting between his knees, hands clasped in his lap.

She doesn’t begrudge him the seat. It is there to be sat on, after all. She has no special claim to it. But usually her very presence is enough to keep people away. Even the least psychically inclined can still sense someone watching them from the other side, and it is a sensation that unnerves most. It just so happens that this particular seat gives her the best view of Nicholas’s office window, the best vantage point from which to look out for him. She could sit right there in the room with him if she wanted, but she prefers not to get too close. She doesn’t like to crowd him, to, well, haunt him. He needs his space, just as he always did in life, and Gloria respects that. She just likes to keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s ok. Make sure he’s still eating and sleeping, even if he is subsisting on caffeine most of the time. She won’t deny that it was hard in those first few months after she passed and woke into this new… it can’t really be called a life, more a plane of existence. She spent so many long nights sitting here, watching the light in the window of his office as he worked and worked and worked to bury his grief, and she could only watch him, unable to console him as she so desperately wanted to do.

Gloria pushes the thought away; she doesn’t want to dwell on those first few painful months. They do say that the only death you can never recover from, never get over, is your own, but it has taken Nicholas such a long time.  

Presently the man looks up and looks Gloria straight in the eyes, startling her.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

Gloria looks around but there is no-one else to whom he could feasibly be speaking.

“Me?” she squeaks eventually.

The man nods.

“I do believe you’re the only one who can see me. And I do believe I’m the only one who can see you.”

There’s no doubt of it now, and Gloria wonders why she didn’t see it before. She’s had so little contact with others of her kind that she can’t recognise one right in front of her. But she sees the telltale hallmarks now. He seems fainter than the other shapes that move around them in the early morning light as the campus slowly comes to life. He makes no impression on the world, because he’s only half here, half moved on. He’s dead like her, watching over his unfinished business until his loved ones move on, and allow him to move on, too.

“You’re in my seat,” Gloria says, not the best conversation starter but the first sentence that pops into her head in the circumstances. She expects some kind of dry retort, but instead the man simply slides over on the bench and indicates for her to sit beside him. Gloria curses her own obtuseness because she could have simply sat next to him on the bench before, but she takes the offered seat anyway.

“Thank you.”

They sit in silence for a while.

“I’ve not seen you here before,” Gloria says presently, by way of small talk, but there is deeper meaning behind it because there has to be a reason why he is suddenly here. Why they are both here in this same spot.

“I moved recently. From Maine. California is new territory for me.” There’s another pause. “Raymond Gold. Heart attack, three years ago.” He holds out a hand which Gloria shakes.

“Gloria Rush. Bone cancer, two and a half years ago.”

It’s a brutal introduction, but a standard one amongst their sort. They’re both dead before their time or else they wouldn’t be here, so there’s no sense in skirting the issue. Introductions made, they sit in silence for a while longer.

“Who are you looking out for?” Gloria asks eventually.

“My wife,” Gold replies. “She needed to get away from it all, from all the memories in Maine. So eventually she cut all the ties and moved here. She’s working in the college library, taking some classes on the side. You?”

“My husband’s a professor. Astrophysics.”

“My wife expressed an interest in astrophysics,” Gold muses. “She was an English major, library science post-grad. She said that if she was having a fresh start then she wanted to have a part of her life, however small, not taken up with books.”

Something’s going to happen. Gloria can feel it. Why else would they both be here, in this exact spot at this exact same time? And as she sees Nicholas wander down the street absorbed in his notebook, and a lovely young woman with rich chestnut curls and her nose in a book coming in the other direction, she knows exactly what’s about to happen and why they’re there to see it.

It’s about to begin, the event that they’ve both been waiting for, and all she and Gold have to do is wait and watch and, maybe, just maybe, lend a little helping hand to make sure that everything continues on its path as it should.

She turns to Gold.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” she asks at the same time as he says “that’s him, isn’t it?” and they both know where they stand, and they share a wide smile.

This is the opportunity that they have been waiting for – Gloria here in California and Gold up in Maine. It’s almost time to move on. Almost time for that journey to begin.

So Gloria and Gold watch on tenterhooks as Nicholas Rush and Belle Gold bump into each other outside the University of California math and physics department, neither looking where they’re going, and notebook pages flutter to the ground and takeaway cup lids fly off and tea and coffee is spilled down shirts and skirts. Gloria groans, burying her head in her hands, because this really isn’t a very auspicious start for her poor husband. Beside her, Gold just chuckles.

“Oh Belle,” he says fondly. “Never change, sweetheart.”

Apologies are exchanged and the first contact is made as the two scrabble for notebook pages. So far, so good.

“Part of me feels like we ought to be eating popcorn,” Gloria muses as Belle hands the fallen papers back to Rush and they get up off the pavement, taking in each other’s beverage-stained clothing.

“If I wasn’t so concerned with watching how this plays out, I would offer to go and get some,” Gold agrees. “I suppose there’s little hope that it’ll all work as well as it does in the cinema and we’ll go straight from meet-cute to declarations of undying love?”

Gloria snorts. “You’ve obviously never met Nicholas,” she mutters, and Gold smiles.

“Belle’s very impulsive, but not usually in that way,” he concedes, and Gloria turns her attention back to the two figures on the street in front of her outside the physics building.

“Dr Rush, isn’t it?” Belle begins. “I was in your lecture on black hole theory the other day. It was fascinating.”

Rush nods. “Thanks.”

Gloria scrubs the heel of her hand over her forehead. “Is that all you’re going to say, Nicholas? Really?”

“I, erm, I’m sorry about your coffee,” Belle continues, looking at the dark stain down his white shirt.

“It’s ok.” Rush takes in her own dirtied clothing and looks away hastily when he realises, unbidden, that her little floral skirt is actually quite short. “I’m sorry about yours.”

“Let me get you a fresh one,” Belle says.

“No, really, it’s ok. I should be going, I have a class.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Belle opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something, but no words come out. “I’ll let you get on,” she finally finishes, and they stand there for a moment before each giving an awkward cough and hurrying away in opposite directions.

Gloria lets out a long sigh and leans back against the bench, closing her eyes.

“You know,” Gold remarks, “I think they’re going to need a bit of help.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Gloria mutters. She finally opens her eyes as Nicholas enters his office and sets his now empty coffee cup on the desk. She expects him to look at his many whiteboards or launch straight into his equations, but instead he looks down at his coffee-stained shirt.

For the first time in far too long a time, Nicholas smiles. Just a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips, but a genuine smile nonetheless, and Gloria has to give a smile of her own. Progress has been made, at least. Belle has left an impression, although the extent of it remains to be seen.

“We should be going,” Gold says beside her. She looks over at him sharply and he nods towards a couple of tired-eyed students who are looking at their supposedly empty bench. Gloria stands, Gold follows her, and by unspoken agreement they find themselves wandering in the direction of the library. She didn’t think it would be long before they went to check in on Belle, and it seems only fair. Both of them are players in this little tableau, and she can’t be expected to help Nicholas on his path if she knows nothing about the woman the universe appears to have chosen for him.

“Tell me about Belle,” she says presently as they meander along the paths through the university campus. Gloria’s walked these roads so many times, both before and after she died, and she can probably walk them blindfold, but Gold seems at ease despite being comparatively new to the place. “Sorry, that makes it sound like I’m checking she’s good enough. Well, I suppose I am a little, but it’s not like I can do anything about it.”

Gold laughs. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re here to help, but there’s nothing to say we can’t hinder.”

“I don’t think it really works like that,” Gloria says. “We’re benevolent souls at heart, all of us. That’s why we’re here, why we can’t move. We stay here to make sure they’re happy, so why would we do anything that could prevent that?”

Gold is silent for a while.

“You’re right.” There’s another long pause, but it’s not an uncomfortable one. There’s no real sense of awkwardness when you’re dead, Gloria thinks. Nothing is important any more. Everything just… is.

“Belle’s… changed,” Gold begins eventually. “She used to be so bright. She is bright, intelligent I mean. But she used to be so… vibrant. She brought the light. She always brought the light wherever she went. Even to an old sod like me. This morning… It was only for a moment but it’s the first time I’ve seen her shine in three years. She always sees the good in people, and she’s passionate about what she believes in. She’s clumsy, and infuriatingly impulsive, and those were all the things I fell in love with. What about Nicholas?”

Gloria thinks.

“Nicholas always brought the calm. The logic, the reason, the rationality. I was the artist, he was the mathematician. Yin and yang. Balance. But he’s passionate too. He just shows it in a different way. He’s not exuberant, never has been. But he’s… intense. A good kind of intense. I thought I’d lost him,” she admits. “After it happened. After he lost me, I thought he’d gone for good. Just a shell of a man. He worked with such fervour, but it…”

“It was the wrong kind of fervour. Working to forget, not for the passion of it.” Gold nods. “I’ve done the same myself.” He pauses. “Belle was my second wife. My first marriage ended… acrimoniously.”

They reach the library at this point, and keep a respectful distance, watching through the glass double doors as Belle sits at the issue desk, staring into space.

“How are we going to go about this, then?” Gold finally asks. “How do we help?”

Gloria shrugs. Now that this moment has arrived, she has no idea what to do, despite knowing that it would be coming for a long time.

“I think we start by doing what we’ve always done,” she suggests. “We observe.”

“Observe, and then act.”

Gloria nods. All they can do, for the moment, is see how things pan out. They might be putting too little faith in their partners, after all, they might come together on their own, but she’s not convinced. Gold knows Belle, and Gloria knows Nicholas, and they both know that they’ll need a helping hand.

That’s what she and Gold are there for, after all.