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broodcore · 28 days ago

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i wrote birth scene fic about the dwarven omega in this pic. this time i actually wrapped it up instead of awkwardly ending at the end of the birth. (ft. difficult birth; working during labor; the horrors of capitalism)

It had been a mistake on both accounts, but the social faux pas of it was really only going to be felt by one party. For the other, the consequences were much more of a burden. Very literally, in this case.

Some thirty-odd weeks after making one poor choice during a company party, Urwig still had to work through their advanced pregnancy. This wasn’t out of some ‘enduring Omega work ethic’, as their upper-caste foremen might put it; their job simply demanded nothing less. As an Omega, you worked until you dropped. Or, the baby dropped. Urwig had heard of their Omega kint having to keep working the mines well into labor, but they had never seen it in person before. Now, they were likely to experience it first hand.

For the past nine-ish months, Urwig cursed the careless lead-head that got them into this situation. They certainly weren’t going to see them again - the Alpha was a junior supervisor, a role that kept them in the upper echelons of the Hollow, far away from the deep warrens that Urwig’s company strip mined. Doric was young for a supervisor role, and their recklessness was apparent when they tried to hook up with a dusty old miner like Urwig. Most Alphas tried to stay as far away from the lowest caste as possible. But, maybe that taboo made it worth pursuing. Urwig themself was curious; were the statuesque, perfectly hewn Alphas really that impressive once you unbraided their beards?

Turns out, no. Urwig had better flings behind smelter coal piles, amongst their own kint who certainly knew what they were doing. Those never led to them falling pregnant, though; that was the other way around. Even when they took turns, Urwig was the one getting slapped with a child support tax afterwards. This happens sometimes. Some dwarves only carried, some only seeded. If you were lucky, you were only the latter. If you were very unlucky, you could be subject to both.

As an Omega, Urwig was used to being considered unlucky. This was just one more misfortune an Omega was often subjected to: carrying the enormous bastard of an upper-caste.

As a hauler, Urwig already carried half their weight in raw coal up the sloping mineshaft every day, a dozen times in a shift. Lately, they were carrying a whole other half of their body weight alongside the box they shouldered. The Alpha baby was large enough that their stomach jutted out in an exaggerated oblong shape in front of them. As it neared full term, its movements were incessant, squirming about and knocking against their forebear’s ribs and pelvis, crushing their internal organs and sapping the energy from them. Urwig’s efficiency reports had dropped well below what their foremen accounted for their gravidity, penalizing their meager pay. Nevermind that they were an Omega carrying an obvious Alpha, making their pregnancy turbulent at best and high risk at worst. Their company simply didn’t account for such exceptions.

Urwig couldn’t afford to take time off to give birth with these penalties, so they were expected to do what an Omega was meant to do: keep working until they drop. One way or another.

The bastard inside them stretched against the confines of their womb, a tight and uncomfortable sensation that Urwig endured for months now. They already ached out of every moment of the day, so if they were having contractions by now, they wouldn’t notice. It made every new twinge or unexpected cramp come with a jolt of alarm, and Urwig would get yelled at for pausing and obstructing workflow. Eventually, they had to grit their teeth through it. No more occupying their hands by holding their burdensome womb, no more stopping to catch their breath. Work until you drop.

Sweat was absolutely drenching their coarse fur, between their early labors and heat of the mid-level smelters they dropped their load off at. Their first payload of the day, and already it felt like they were pulling double shifts. The kid kicked against their ribs and rammed its enormous head downwards, more so than Urwig was accustomed to. The sudden, throbbing pressure made them stumble back as soon as they unshouldered their box.

As if on cue, they heard one of the foremen watching the procession for slackers like them toot their whistle with warning. The sharp noise made Urwig flinch, their gravid stomach clenching in response. The muscles remained locked in well afterwards, squeezing tighter and knocking the wind out of them. The foreman continued chastising them.

“‘Ay, squeeze out that new worker on your own time, grit-biter! Stop holding up the line!”

Urwig’s kint, their coworkers, did little more than glare at them as they waddled back down the shaft. They too would be penalized for any slip-ups such as having empathy or showing concern for a laboring co-worker, so quietly minding their own business was all they could do. The walk back down wasn’t as bad, at least. Urwig’s hands were free to feel about their taut belly, and assess the shape of it underneath their sweat-streaked fur. It hung low over the loosened belt of their trousers, swaying uncomfortably with each stumbling step. This kid wasn’t going to make it a second lap, was it?

Urwig felt dread creep up on them as they prepared to shoulder a new box of coal. What was once barely anything for the stout omega to lift now looked like solid iron, while they already struggled with the weight inside them. Still, there was no allowance for hesitation. Urwig steeled themself, squatted before the crate, and lifted with their legs.

As the Omega spread their bent thighs, they already felt the dull pain in their cervix worsen. The strain of lifting the coal made it sharpen considerably. Urwig had only held the box halfway when they felt something give, and their waters gushed out of the threadbare crotch of their trousers.

Urwig dropping the crate and moaning from their water breaking made the line pause. The foreman overseeing the pickup end of the lap sounded their whistle. This time, this Beta didn’t chastise them, but rather pointed to the sidelines.

“Take your break, grunt, then get back to work!”

Well, there went Urwig’s chance of having lunch today. Though having a baby was arguably just as important. The line behind them shifted to replace the gap they made as they staggered bowleggedly away.

They didn’t make it very far, as the alarming feeling of their hole bowing outwards against the seat of their pants made the Omega hastily brace themself against a stack of unmoved crates. They dropped to a low squat, their wavering moaning rising in pitch and volume until they cried out in agony. The head alone was too much to bear; their pelvis was being pried open beyond its limits.

One of the foremen had come down from their post to assist. Urwig felt a pang of shame and tried to wave them off, but the huskier Beta still knelt between the Omega's legs.

"This your first'n, grunt?" They asked, genuine concern bleeding over the hardened edge of their authoritative tone. Urwig inhaled a sharp gasp from another contraction wringing the life out of them.

“Y-yeah it’s - it’s the first I’m squeezin’ out.”

The Beta felt the sheer size of the baby within their subordinate, careful not to nick the stretched-thin flesh with their digging claws. “Phew! I do not envy you, gritborn. This’n’s going to be a shift and a half, for sure.”

“Great.” Urwig grumbled flatly. They held onto the crates behind them for leverage against another hard, urgent squeeze of their entire body around their womb.

“Hold on, hold on,” the foreman produced a pocket knife, and carefully cut access to the Omega’s laboring hole out of their pants, to Urwig’s quiet dismay. They were going to have to pay for that, on top of the penalty cuts, and rent, and taxes, and-

“Rrrrrghh!” The head forcing its way through their hips made a temporary, painful reprieve from financial worries. Their hole bulged obscenely under the heavy, swollen cock that didn’t know whether it was experiencing pleasure or pain. Through the searing sensation of their cunt opening up, the Beta’s fingers around the lips struggled to provide relief.

“That’s it, kint. Easy now.” The foreman was the only one who could see the limits to which Urwig was being stretched. Intermittently, their hand applied counterpressure against the Omega’s bulging perineum while slowly, agonizingly, they felt the crown of head slipping out of them.

When a contraction stopped in the middle of pushing out the widest point of the head, Urwig was left to wheeze and sob through the pain. Distantly, they wondered if the sire of their bastard would have had to go through an ordeal like this, had Urwig been the one to knock them up. Realistically, they probably would have already gotten it terminated, regardless of caste. It was the Omegas that were stuck in these situations time and time again, having to endure the consequences of actions in part by higher castes.

The foreman carefully eased the Omega’s stretched-taut lips over the skull, until the pressure released and the head gave way to a splash of fluids. Urwig moaned in tortured relief, bonelessly draped over crates of coal.

“Is it over yet?” They whimpered. Their heart dropped when the more experienced superior just chuckled.

This was definitely an Alpha child, not just by sheer size alone, but by the strength and vigor with which the bastard kicked and squirmed the rest of its way out. It had been so, so eager to get out of its cramped home up until now. The uncooperativeness of the infant brought only more pain, as the Beta had to tug the broad shoulders out of their employee by force. Urwig briefly felt like their pelvis was going to snap in two, before the pressure finally released. The lower half of the infant spilled out of their cunt with a sloppy gush of fluids and a length of the cord.

The newest Alpha of the Hollows squalled, and a few of the workers that had been trying to ignore the scene paused however briefly to admire Urwig’s job well done. A few of the other Omegas - at least one that Urwig had seeded themself - cheered them for their efforts. At least, until another foreman blew their whistle.

The foreman that took precious time out of their shift to aid Urwig didn’t just dump the babe ceremoniously in their lap and go back to work, as was expected. They must have done this before. Maybe they even had to squeeze out kids of their own on the clock. Though fear of being further penalized still lingered in the back of their mind, Urwig was too exhausted and overcome with relief to care. Despite cussing out the kid ever since it started to round out their gut, they felt an incredible sense of pride in taking the child to their chest.

Or, well, they attempted to. Trying to handle a child nearly as big and strong as they were was more of a wrestling match. While they held the kid still for the Beta to cut the cord, the two dwarves noted the clear status of the infant.

“I knew it. I’ll be damned if you were gonna come out full-furred at this size.” It was hard for Urwig to sound as gruff as they were, now that the kid was out of them. True to their forebear’s word, the infant was sparse of fur and small-eared, with a full head of hair and a currently bare chin. A far cry from their furry, unkempt, exhausted looking forebear.

The Beta seemed agog at the markers of a sire far above even their own station. “Sweet guts of the… who in the damn-hell have you been fuckin’ on your downtime, grunt?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, boss.”

“Well, all the same,” the Beta lurched to their feet, wiping their hands, “You should take ‘em up-top and hand ‘em over to an Alpha nursery. Bet they won’t ask questions, if they pass the physical.”

Urwig sighed tiredly at the idea of taking a day’s travel - and a week’s pay of shuttle fare - just to go into the upper city. A certain tug at their heartstrings also made them pause, as silly as it was. Omegas never had time to raise their own progeny, of course, so it was inevitable they would have to give them up to a communal nursery. The ones that allowed visitation cost money, too.

“Ah… I guess I’ll have to. No sense denyin’ the kid their due.”

“‘S hard, I know; my last one was a Delta, I had to pass ‘em over to the guilds for the stipend.” The sympathetic shake of the foreman’s head was cut short by a realization that made their eyes light up. “Hell, you know what? An Alpha nursery’s stipend would probably be a season’s pay, for you.”

All sentimental feelings for the child in their arms left Urwig like ash billowing out of a factory smokestack. “A whole season’s pay, you say…?”

The Beta shrugged with a laugh. “If the sire’s really from up-top, I bet you could even sue for a tax refund on top of that. Have ‘em pay you back for all those lost wages.”

The idea of getting back at the idiot Alpha that did this to them made Urwig’s fur stand on end. The idea of getting paid for it on top of that nearly made them lightheaded with glee. They looked down at their kid in their arms, and practically saw a pile of gold take their place.

“Well hot damn, when’s the next shuttle?”

#brood fic #mpreg #birth kink #labor kink

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stephspurs · 3 years ago

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Wow - the response i received in a little under 24 hours since i posted the first taste of part 1 has truly bowled me over! I wasn't expecting that reaction & tbh i would have been happy if 2 people wanted to read this story hahaha! So, i've been writing in the background & the first few parts have already been proofed and are ready to go. HOWEVER! I am open to your suggestions so please please let me know what you think and how you want to see Amelia's story play out. As far as i'm concerned, this fic is as much yours as it is mine! So please enjoy this first part, in its entirety, and let me know your thoughts! Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 1 | prima parte

warnings; none - maybe a bit of angst? (what sibling rivalry doesn't have a bit of angst)

word count; 1978 words

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Sunday 25/07 5pm AEST. Updates will be twice weekly at this stage. Probably Wednesday’s and Sundays from next week!!

link to fic masterlist here

The world of football, no matter how big it may seem, is as tight as a close-knit family. Whether its management staff, senior players, scouts, academy players, business developers, medical team, groundskeeper - everyone knows someone who knows someone else involved in the sport. For Amelia White, it was a family affair.

Having grown up with her father as a senior tactical analyst for many different clubs throughout his career, and an older brother currently playing for Brighton in the Premier League, there was no opportunity for her to escape the fanaticism of the sport. It was what her household lived and breathed, football. Most would think that, with her brother being as successful as he is now, her childhood was shadowed by her brother's success but that's not the case. She capitalised on her ability to think both logically and creatively, and absorbed all of the information her father could give her as if she was a sponge, to establish a name of her own in the sport and advance her career in the sport. At the age of 21 she upped and left the comforts of her home in West London, accepted a position at Juventus within their graduate program & worked her way up the ranks to be their youngest tactical analyst by the age of 24.

So far in her career, the support of her mother, father & brother were unmatched by any. They were all so proud of her for making her own name, proving herself and succeeding in one of the most competitive football leagues in the world. She was smart, tactful, both meticulous and ruthless in her approach to her career and the success of her players. Because after all, they were her players. She worked day in and day out, studying them and their opponents, drafting performance plans and set pieces for every possible outcome of the play, so that they could perform at their best. They had her trust and faith, and she had theirs. This is probably what her family was most proud of, and wished her every success, until she was appointed as a tactical analyst for the Italian National Team for the upcoming Euro 2020 tournament. Which happened to be the same tournament that her brother had received his call up to the Three Lions. Which was the current level at which her father was a senior tactical analyst for the English National Team. The Euro 2020 Tournament was about to be a real family affair...

10 July 2021

It had been 2 months since she last had any contact with her family. 3 months ago, Amelia signed a contract with the Federcalcio, the governing body of football in Italy, to become the Azzurri’s tactical analyst for the foreseeable European Football Championship. In turn, her silky signature at the bottom of the agreement, also constituted a digital and physical contact ban with members of her family that were also involved with the tournament...her father and her brother.

At the time of the contract, and against her better judgement, Amelia hadn’t told her family of her opportunity. She knew her father would be proud, but her brother would be bitter. Her mother was switzerland, completely neutral and rooting for both of her children - but that's not how football works. No matter your role you have a job to do, and you do everything you can to make sure it is your team that lifts the trophy at the end of the tournament. So, on May 23rd her family congratulated her for another successful season at Juventus, and unbeknownst to them, said goodbye for the next 2 months. Until the day before the final match of the tournament, Italy v. England.

Her heart dropped when England won their semi final match against Denmark. She wanted nothing more than for her brother to be happy and for her father to succeed, but she didn’t want to have to go up against them in the final. Ultimately, she knew they were good, but she also knew that she could hold her own and compete with the best. Having a close relationship with her brother, up until this period, meant that she often paid attention to the premier league. This was a major benefit to her as she had already started analysing the azzurri’s opponents. It was her job to know what foot Raheem Sterling preferred to pass with, what direction Declan Rice preferred to take the ball up the field, what direction of receiving the ball did Harry Maguire struggle the most with. So that's how she spent the three days between matches, solidifying her knowledge of her opponents & predicting the plays her dad would be instructing the English team to complete, to attempt to outperform the Italians. However nothing would prepare her for the knock on her suite door, or for what was on the other side…

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“Ciao Amelia, vieni con me per favore. abbiamo organizzato una visita supervisionata con tuo fratello prima della finale di domani sera. sorpresa!” (hi amelia, come with me please. we have arranged a supervised visit with your brother prior to the final tomorrow night. surprise!). I stood there in shock staring at one of my players & closest friends, Federico Bernardeschi. I was a person who didn't enjoy spontaneity, who thrived off of preparation and organisation. I needed the opportunity to overthink every situation so that I could prepare for every possible outcome. This was not my idea of a good time. Of course I missed my brother, but I know just how volatile he can be. Nevertheless, I grabbed my jacket and shoved my sneakers on before following Fede down the hall and into a blacked out van that was waiting to take me to St. George’s Park for my family reunion.

Upon arriving, and after a stern pep talk from Fede (who was my appointed supervisor for the visit - not sure I would say he was the most responsible choice but he did talk some sense into me) I walked into the main entrance and saw my father leaning against the reception desk waiting for me.

“Papa!!” I called as I walked over to him, ready to smother him with my love and affection. My father, Dean White, and I had as good of a relationship as possible, being that he was always heavily involved with my brother Ben’s footballing career as well as his own. I think when I came along, my father didn't know how to be a girl dad, so he took my mothers advice and just involved me like he would Ben. I was glad that I would be seeing him first, and he would be taking me to see my no-doubt pissed off brother.

“Dad, this is Fede, one of my players”

“Ciao Dean, it’s very nice to meet you but i am also her bodyguard for this evening” Fede introduced himself to my father and they exchanged pleasantries. I had a look around the foyer of the facility until I heard my name brought up in conversation.

“Amelia, come on. The boys are just over here. I don’t think you have long before heading back to your camp” My dad called to me. Boys? As in...more than just my brother?

“Hahaha that's funny dad, just show me to his room and we can have our screaming match there. Should only be about 20 or so minutes”

“Ben’s not in his room, we have a recreation room for the players and staff to lounge about and relax in. Pretty sure he’ll be in there. Come on, you’ve never been scared of your brother before. Why start now?” Before I knew it, Dad was leading us through some doors and into a large common area with bean bags, pool tables and couches - all occupied by current first team members of the English National Football team.

“Dean mate, don’t normally see you down here after 7pm. Oh look at that, someone let the trash in.” A loud mouthed player, that I used to adore as if he was my own brother, calls out as he notices us enter the room. And just like that, I shake off my nerves, stand in front of my taller & more argumentative bodyguard, relax my shoulders and stare into the eyes of Kyle Walker - daring him to challenge me and push me further.

“Relax Kyle, Benjamin White - your sister is here to see you.” Dad cut Kyle off. I didn’t need him to defend me against Kyle’s harsh comments, I could defend myself.

“Wow, I thought hell would freeze over before I got the opportunity to speak to you. Of course, I didn't realise hell would look quite like seeing you in that shade of blue.” My brother, Ben, spoke bitterly at me as he approached me from the other side of the room. This, coupled with Walker’s exclamation earlier, got the attention of the majority of the players scattered about.

“Ben, if you let me explain in private I'm sure you will be able to understand why things had to be this way” I tried to reason with him. Letting go of my always-defensive guard and pleading with my big brother to open his mind to see my side of the story.

“As if I would even talk to you right now, the night before the final, you’re probably here to try and get some insider information. Boys make sure you don’t say anything to her, she’s as sly as they come” Ben’s words were as sharp as a knife - but I knew what I had to say would cut him deeper.

“Ok that's enough! You are ridiculous! What did you expect me to do? Not take the job because you’re my brother? This is my career we are talking about here” I challenged him. “If you think for one second i stopped supporting you then you must be even more stupid than i thought. Of course this isn't the ideal situation, I'm proud of you for reaching a final but I'm just as proud of myself for doing the same thing.” I got progressively closer to my brother, who stood there with his hands beside himself, unable to get a word in.

“I came tonight to wish you good luck, to tell you I loved you, to give you a hug and tell you to stay safe and play smart. Whilst I still wish all of this for you, I now want you to know that I want you to play your best so I can be better than you. I can show you exactly how good at my job I am. I want you to know that no matter what way you play the ball, I'll be right there waiting for you. I am prepared for this, I hope you are too - so that it will feel that much more sweet when we beat you” I sneered at my older brother, who at this point, is quite visibly feeling a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

I take a step back, let out a breath and shake the tension from my shoulders. Breaking eye contact with my brother, I look briefly - yet confidently - at the other players in the room and take a step back. I turned to my dad, who was looking at me solemnly, as though he wasn’t happy with my outburst but understood it came from a place of frustration with my sibling. Walking up, giving him a kiss on the cheek and wishing him luck, I turned to look at Fede and began to walk to the door. This interaction with my brother, although supposed to be a nice moment shared between siblings, has only gone and motivated me to be at my best tomorrow, to prepare my players to go to war and to come out the other side victorious.

Part 2 | seconda parte

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nasa · 5 years ago

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Women in Exploration: From Human Computers to All-Woman Spacewalks

Since the 19th century, women have been making strides in areas like coding, computing, programming and space travel, despite the challenges they have faced. Sally Ride joined NASA in 1983 and five years later she became the first female American astronaut. Ride's accomplishments paved the way for the dozens of other women who became astronauts, and the hundreds of thousands more who pursued careers in science and technology. Just last week, we celebrated our very first #AllWomanSpacewalk with astronauts Christina Koch and Jessica Meir.

Here are just a couple of examples of pioneers who brought us to where we are today:

The Conquest of the Sound Barrier

Pearl Young was hired in 1922 by the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA), NASA’s predecessor organization, to work at its Langley site in support in instrumentation, as one of the first women hired by the new agency. Women were also involved with the NACA at the Muroc site in California (now Armstrong Flight Research Center) to support flight research on advanced, high-speed aircraft. These women worked on the X-1 project, which became the first airplane to fly faster than the speed of sound.

Young was the first woman hired as a technical employee and the second female physicist working for the federal government.

The Human Computers of Langley

The NACA hired five women in 1935 to form its first “computer pool”, because they were hardworking, “meticulous” and inexpensive. After the United States entered World War II, the NACA began actively recruiting similar types to meet the workload. These women did all the mathematical calculations – by hand – that desktop and mainframe computers do today.

Computers played a role in major projects ranging from World War II aircraft testing to transonic and supersonic flight research and the early space program. Women working as computers at Langley found that the job offered both challenges and opportunities. With limited options for promotion, computers had to prove that women could successfully do the work and then seek out their own opportunities for advancement.

Revolutionizing X-ray Astronomy

Marjorie Townsend was blazing trails from a very young age. She started college at age 15 and became the first woman to earn an engineering degree from the George Washington University when she graduated in 1951. At NASA, she became the first female spacecraft project manager, overseeing the development and 1970 launch of the UHURU satellite. The first satellite dedicated to x-ray astronomy, UHURU detected, surveyed and mapped celestial X-ray sources and gamma-ray emissions.

Women of Apollo

NASA’s mission to land a human on the Moon for the very first time took hundreds of thousands workers. These are some of the stories of the women who made our recent #Apollo50th anniversary possible:

• Margaret Hamilton led a NASA team of software engineers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and helped develop the flight software for NASA’s Apollo missions. She also coined the term “software engineering.” Her team’s groundbreaking work was perfect; there were no software glitches or bugs during the crewed Apollo missions.

• JoAnn Morgan was the only woman working in Mission Control when the Apollo 11 mission launched. She later accomplished many NASA “firsts” for women: NASA winner of a Sloan Fellowship, division chief, senior executive at the Kennedy Space Center and director of Safety and Mission Assurance at the agency.

• Judy Sullivan, was the first female engineer in the agency’s Spacecraft Operations organization, was the lead engineer for health and safety for Apollo 11, and the only woman helping Neil Armstrong suit up for flight.

Hidden Figures

Author Margot Lee Shetterly’s book – and subsequent movie – Hidden Figures, highlighted African-American women who provided instrumental support to the Apollo program, all behind the scenes.

• An alumna of the Langley computing pool, Mary Jackson was hired as the agency’s first African-American female engineer in 1958. She specialized in boundary layer effects on aerospace vehicles at supersonic speeds.

• An extraordinarily gifted student, Katherine Johnson skipped several grades and attended high school at age 13 on the campus of a historically black college. Johnson calculated trajectories, launch windows and emergency backup return paths for many flights, including Apollo 11.

• Christine Darden served as a “computress” for eight years until she approached her supervisor to ask why men, with the same educational background as her (a master of science in applied mathematics), were being hired as engineers. Impressed by her skills, her supervisor transferred her to the engineering section, where she was one of few female aerospace engineers at NASA Langley during that time.

Lovelace’s Woman in Space Program

Geraldyn “Jerrie” Cobb was the among dozens of women recruited in 1960 by Dr. William Randolph "Randy" Lovelace II to undergo the same physical testing regimen used to help select NASA’s first astronauts as part of his privately funded Woman in Space Program.

Ultimately, thirteen women passed the same physical examinations that the Lovelace Foundation had developed for NASA’s astronaut selection process. They were: Jerrie Cobb, Myrtle "K" Cagle, Jan Dietrich, Marion Dietrich, Wally Funk, Jean Hixson, Irene Leverton, Sarah Gorelick, Jane B. Hart, Rhea Hurrle, Jerri Sloan, Gene Nora Stumbough, and Bernice Trimble Steadman. Though they were never officially affiliated with NASA, the media gave these women the unofficial nicknames “Fellow Lady Astronaut Trainees” and the “Mercury Thirteen.”

The First Woman on the Moon

The early space program inspired a generation of scientists and engineers. Now, as we embark on our Artemis program to return humanity to the lunar surface by 2024, we have the opportunity to inspire a whole new generation. The prospect of sending the first woman to the Moon is an opportunity to influence the next age of women explorers and achievers.

This material was adapted from a paper written by Shanessa Jackson (Stellar Solutions, Inc.), Dr. Patricia Knezek (NASA), Mrs. Denise Silimon-Hill (Stellar Solutions), and Ms. Alexandra Cross (Stellar Solutions) and submitted to the 2019 International Astronautical Congress (IAC). For more information about IAC and how you can get involved, click here.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com

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chiseler · 3 years ago

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The Mysterious Death of a Hollywood Director

This is the tale of a very famous Hollywood mogul and a not-so-famous movie director. In May of 1933 they embarked together on a hunting trip to Canada, but only one of them came back alive. It’s an unusual tale with an uncertain ending, and to the best of my knowledge it’s never been told before.

I. The Mogul

When we consider the factors that enabled the Hollywood studio system to work as well as it did during its peak years, circa 1920 to 1950, we begin with the moguls, those larger-than-life studio chieftains who were the true stars on their respective lots. They were tough, shrewd, vital, and hard working men. Most were Jewish, first- or second-generation immigrants from Europe or Russia; physically on the small side but nonetheless formidable and – no small thing – adaptable. Despite constant evolution in popular culture, technology, and political and economic conditions in their industry and the outside world, most of the moguls who made their way to the top during the silent era held onto their power and wielded it for decades. Their names are still familiar: Zukor, Goldwyn, Mayer, Jack Warner and his brothers, and a few more. And of course, Darryl F. Zanuck. In many ways Zanuck personified the common image of the Hollywood mogul. He was an energetic, cigar-chewing, polo mallet-swinging bantam of a man, largely self-educated, with a keen aptitude for screen storytelling and a well-honed sense of what the public wanted to see. Like Charlie Chaplin he was widely assumed to be Jewish, and also like Chaplin he was not, but in every other respect Zanuck was the very embodiment of the dynamic, supremely confident Hollywood showman.

In the mid-1920s he got a job as a screenwriter at Warner Brothers, at a time when that studio was still something of a podunk operation. The young man succeeded on a grand scale, and was head of production before he was 30 years old. Ironically, the classic Warners house style, i.e. clipped, topical, and earthy, often dark and sometimes grimly funny, as in such iconic films as The Public Enemy, I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang, and 42nd Street, was established not by Jack, Harry, Sam, or Albert Warner, but by Darryl Zanuck, who was the driving force behind those hits and many others from the crucial early talkie period. He played a key role in launching the gangster cycle and a new wave of sassy show biz musicals. At some point during 1932-33, however, Zanuck realized he would never rise above his status as Jack Warner’s right-hand man and run the studio, no matter how successful his projects proved to be, because of two insurmountable obstacles: 1) his name was not Warner, and 2) he was a Gentile. Therefore, in order to achieve complete autonomy, Zanuck concluded that he would have to start his own company.

In mid-April of 1933 he picked a public fight with Jack Warner over a staff salary issue, then abruptly resigned. Next, he turned his attention to setting up a company in partnership with veteran producer Joseph Schenck, who was able to raise sufficient funds to launch the new concern. And then, Zanuck invited several associates from Warner Brothers to accompany him on an extended hunting trip in Canada.

Going into the wilderness and killing wild game, a pastime many Americans still regard as a routine, unremarkable form of recreation, is also of course a conspicuous show of machismo. But in this realm, as with his legendary libido, Zanuck was in a class by himself. He had been an enthusiastic hunter most of his life, dating back to his boyhood in Nebraska. Once he became a big wheel at Warners in the late ’20s he took to organizing high-style duck-hunting expeditions: the young executive and his fellow sportsmen would travel to the appointed location in private railroad cars, staffed by uniformed servants. Heavy drinking on these occasions was not uncommon. (Inevitably, film buffs will recall The Ale & Quail Club from Preston Sturges’ classic comedy The Palm Beach Story, but DFZ and his pals were not cute old character actors, and their bullets were quite real.) Members of Zanuck’s studio entourage were given to understand that participation in these outings was de rigueur if they valued their positions, and expected desirable assignments in the future. Director Michael Curtiz, who had no fondness for hunting, remembered the trips with distaste, and recalled that on one occasion he was nearly shot by a casting director who had no idea how to properly handle a gun.

But ducks were just the beginning. In 1927 Zanuck took his wife Virginia on an African safari. In Kenya Darryl bagged a rhinoceros and posed for a photo with his wife, crouched beside the rhino’s carcass. Virginia, an erstwhile Mack Sennett bathing beauty and former leading lady to Buster Keaton, appears shaken. Her husband looks exhilarated. During this safari Zanuck also killed an elephant. He kept the animal’s four feet in his office on the Warners lot, and used them as ashtrays. If any animal lover dared to express dismay, the Hollywood sportsman would retort: “It was him or me, wasn’t it?” Zanuck made several forays to Canada with his coterie in this period, gunning for grizzly bears. Director William “Wild Bill” Wellman, who was more of an outdoorsman than Curtiz, once went along, but soon became irritated with Zanuck’s bullying. The two men got into a drunken fistfight the night before the hunting had even begun. In the course of the ensuing trip the hunting party was snowbound for three days; Zanuck sprained his ankle while trailing a grizzly; the horse carrying medical supplies vanished; and Wellman got food poisoning. “It was the damnedest trip I’ve ever seen,” the director said later, “but Zanuck loved it.”

Now that Zanuck had severed his ties with the Warner clan and was on the verge of a new professional adventure, a trip to Canada with a few trusted associates would be just the ticket. This time the destination would be a hunting ground on the banks of the Canoe River, a tributary of the Columbia River, 102 miles north of Revelstoke, British Columbia, a city about 400 miles east of Vancouver. There, in a remote scenic area far from any paved roads, telephones, or other niceties of modern life, the men could discuss Zanuck’s new production company and, presumably, their own potential roles in it. Present on the expedition were screenwriter Sam Engel, director Ray Enright, 42nd Street director Lloyd Bacon, producer (and former silent film comedian) Raymond Griffith, and director John G. Adolfi, best known at the time for his work with English actor George Arliss. Adolfi, who was around 50 years old and seemingly in good health, would not return.

II. The Director

Even dedicated film buffs may draw a blank when the name John Adolfi is mentioned. Although he directed more than eighty films over a twenty-year period beginning in 1913, most of those films are now lost. He worked in every genre, with top stars, and made a successful transition from silent cinema to talkies. He seems to have been a well-respected but self-effacing man, seldom profiled in the press.

According to his tombstone Adolfi was born in New York City in 1881, but the exact date of his birth is one of several mysteries about his life. His father, Gustav Adolfi, was a popular stage comedian and singer who emigrated to the U.S. from Germany in 1879. Gustav performed primarily in New York and Philadelphia, and was known for such roles as Frosch the Jailer in Strauss’ Die Fledermaus. But he was a troubled man, said to be a compulsive gambler, and after his wife Jennie died (possibly of scarlet fever) it appears his life fell apart. Gustav’s singing voice gave out, and then he died suddenly in Philadelphia in October 1890, leaving John and his siblings orphaned. (An obituary in the Philadelphia Jewish Exponent reported that Gustav suffered a stroke, but family legend suggests he may have committed suicide.) After a difficult period John followed in his father’s footsteps and launched a stage career, and was soon working opposite such luminaries of the day as Ethel Barrymore and Dustin Farnum. Early in the new century the young actor wed Pennsylvania native Florence Crawford; the marriage would last until his death.

When the cinema was still in its infancy stage performers tended to regard movie work as slumming, but for whatever reason John Adolfi took the plunge. He made his debut before the cameras around 1907, probably at the Vitagraph Studio in Brooklyn. There he appeared as Tybalt in J. Stuart Blackton’s 1908 Romeo and Juliet , with Paul Panzer and Florence Lawrence in the title roles. He worked at the Edison Studio for director Edwin S. Porter, and at Biograph in a 1908 short called The Kentuckian which also featured two other stage veterans, D.W. Griffith and Mack Sennett. Most of Adolfi’s work as a screen actor was for the Éclair Studio in Fort Lee, New Jersey, the first film capital. The bulk of this company’s output was destroyed in a vault fire, but a 1912 adaptation of Robin Hood in which Adolfi appeared survives. That same year he also appeared in a famous docu-drama, as we would call it, Saved from the Titanic. This ten-minute short premiered less than a month after the Titanic disaster, and featured actress Dorothy Gibson, who actually survived the voyage, re-enacting her experience while wearing the same clothes she wore in the lifeboat. (This film, unfortunately, is among the missing.) After appearing in dozens of movies Adolfi moved behind the camera.

Much of his early work as a director was for a Los Angeles-based studio called Majestic, where he made crime dramas, Westerns, and comedies, films with titles like Texas Bill’s Last Ride and The Stolen Radium. In 1914 the company had a new supervisor: D. W. Griffith, now the top director in the business, who had just departed Biograph. Adolfi was one of the few Majestic staff directors who kept his job under the new regime. A profile in the February 1915 issue of Photoplay describes him as “a tallish, good-looking man, well-knit and vigorous, dark-haired and determined; his mouth and chin suggest that their owner expects (and intends) to have his own way unless he is convinced that the other fellow’s is better.” It was also reported that Adolfi had developed something of a following as an actor, but that he dropped out of the public eye when he became a director. Presumably, that’s what he wanted.

Adolfi left Majestic after three years, worked at Fox Films for a time as a staff director, then freelanced. During the remainder of the silent era he guided some of the screen’s legendary leading ladies: Annette Kellerman (Queen of the Sea, 1918), Marion Davies (The Burden of Proof, 1918), Mae Marsh (The Little ‘Fraid Lady, 1920), Betty Blythe (The Darling of the Rich, 1922), and Clara Bow (The Scarlet West, 1925). Not one of these films survives. A profile published in the New York World-Telegram during his stint at Fox reported that Adolfi was well-liked by his employees. He was “reticent when the conversation turned toward himself, but frank and outspoken when it concerned his work. Mr. Adolfi is not only a director who is skilled in the technique of his craft; he is also a deep student of human nature.” Asked how he felt about the cinema’s potential, he replied, with unconscious irony, “it is bound to live forever.”

III. The Talkies

In spring of 1927 Adolfi was offered a job at Warner Brothers. His debut feature for the studio What Happened to Father? (now lost) was a success, or enough of one anyway to secure him a professional foothold, and he worked primarily at WB thereafter. Thus he was fortuitously well-positioned for the talkie revolution, for although talking pictures were not invented at the studio it was Sam Warner and his brothers, more than anyone else, who sold an initially skeptical public on the new medium. After Adolfi had proven himself with three talkie features Darryl Zanuck handed him an expensive, prestige assignment, a lavish all-star revue entitled The Show of Shows which featured every Warners star from John Barrymore to Rin-Tin-Tin.

Other important assignments followed. In March of 1930 a crime melodrama called Penny Arcade opened on Broadway. It was not a success, but when Al Jolson saw it he sensed that the story had screen potential. He purchased the film rights at a bargain rate and then re-sold the property to his home studio, Warner Brothers. Adolfi was chosen to direct, but was doubtless surprised to learn that Jolson had insisted that two of the actors from the Broadway production repeat their performances before the cameras. One of the pair, Joan Blondell, had already appeared in three Vitaphone shorts to good effect, but the other, James Cagney, had never acted in a movie. Any doubts about Jolson’s instincts were quickly dispelled. Rushes of the first scenes featuring the newcomers so impressed studio brass that both were signed to five-year contracts. While Adolfi can’t be credited with discovering the duo, the film itself, re-christened Sinners’ Holiday,remains his strongest surviving claim to fame: he guided Jimmy Cagney’s screen debut.

At this point the director formed a professional relationship that would shape the rest of his career. George Arliss was a veteran stage actor who went into the movies and unexpectedly became a top box office draw. He was, frankly, an unlikely candidate for screen stardom. Already past sixty when talkies arrived, Arliss was a short, dignified man who resembled a benevolent gargoyle. But he was also a journeyman actor, a seasoned professional who knew how to command attention with a sudden sharp word or a raised eyebrow. Like Helen Hayes he was valued in Hollywood as a performer of unblemished reputation who lent the raffish film industry a touch of Class, in every sense of the word.

In 1929 Arliss appeared in a talkie version of Disraeli, a role he had played many times on stage, and became the first Englishman to take home an Academy Award for Best Actor. Thereafter he was known for stately portrayals of History’s Great Men, such as Voltaire and Alexander Hamilton, as well as fictional kings, cardinals, and other official personages. The old gentleman formed a close alliance with Darryl Zanuck, whom he admired, and was in turn granted privileges highly unusual for any actor at the time. Arliss had final approval of his scripts and authority over casting. He was also granted the right to rehearse his selected actors for two weeks before filming began. All that was left for the film’s director to do, it would seem, would be to faithfully record what his star wanted. Not many directors would accept this arrangement, but John Adolfi, who according to Photoplay “was determined to have his own way unless he is convinced that the other fellow’s is better,” clearly had no problem with it. His first film with Arliss was The Millionaire, released in May 1931; and in the two years that followed Adolfi directed eight more features, six of which were Arliss vehicles. He had found his niche in Hollywood.

One of Adolfi’s last jobs sans Arliss was a B-picture called Central Park, which reunited the director with Joan Blondell. It’s a snappy, topical, crazy quilt of a movie that packs a lot of incident into a 58-minute running time. Central Park was something of a sleeper that earned its director positive critical notices, and must have afforded him a lively holiday from those polite period pieces for the exacting Mr. Arliss.

In spring of 1933, after completing work on the Arliss vehicle Voltaire, Adolfi accompanied Darryl Zanuck and his entourage to British Columbia to hunt bears. Arliss intended to follow Zanuck to his new company, while Adolfi in turn surely expected to follow the star and continue their collaboration. Things didn’t work out that way.

IV. The Hunting Trip

It’s unclear how long the men were hunting before tragedy struck. On Sunday, May 14th, newspapers reported that film director John G. Adolfi had died the previous week – either on Wednesday or Thursday, depending on which paper one consults – at a hunting camp near the Canoe River. All accounts give the cause of death as a cerebral hemorrhage. According to the New York Herald-Tribune the news was conveyed in a long-distance phone call from Darryl Zanuck to screenwriter Lucien Hubbard in Los Angeles. Hubbard subsequently informed the press. The N.Y. Times reported that the entire hunting party (Zanuck, Engel, Enright, Bacon, and Griffith) accompanied Adolfi’s remains in a motorboat down the Columbia River to Revelstoke. From there the body was sent to Vancouver, B.C., where it was cremated. Write-ups of Adolfi’s career were brief, and tended to emphasize his work with George Arliss, though his recent success Central Park was widely noted. John’s widow Florence was mentioned in the Philadelphia City News obituary but otherwise seems to have been ignored; the couple had no children.

V. The Aftermath

Darryl F. Zanuck went on to found Twentieth Century Pictures, a name suggested by his hunting companion Sam Engel. One of the company’s biggest hits in its first year of operation was The House of Rothschild, starring George Arliss and directed by Alfred Werker. The venerable actor returned to England not long afterwards and retired from filmmaking in 1937. In his second book of memoirs, published three years later, Arliss devotes several pages of warm praise to Zanuck, but refers only fleetingly to the man who directed seven of his films, John Adolfi, and misspells his name.

In 1935 Zanuck merged his Twentieth Century Pictures with Fox Films, and created one of the most successful companies in Hollywood history. He would go on to produce many award-winning classics, including The Grapes of Wrath, Laura, and All About Eve. Zanuck’s trusted associates at Twentieth-Century Fox in the company’s best years included Sam Engel, Raymond Griffith, and Lloyd Bacon, all survivors of the Revelstoke trip. Personal difficulties and vast changes in the film industry began to affect Zanuck’s career in the 1950s. He left the U.S. for Europe but continued to make films, and sporadically managed to exercise control over the company he founded. He died in 1979.

In 1984 a onetime screenwriter and film critic named Leonard Mosley, who had known Zanuck slightly, published a biography entitled Zanuck: The Rise and Fall of Hollywood’s Last Tycoon. Aside from his movie reviews most of Mosley’s published work concerned military matters, specifically pertaining to the Second War World. His Zanuck bio reveals a grasp of film history that is shaky at times, for the book has a number of obvious errors. Nevertheless, it was written with the cooperation of Darryl’s son Richard, his widow Virginia, and many of the mogul’s close associates, so whatever its errors in chronology or studio data the anecdotes concerning Zanuck’s personal and professional activities are unquestionably well-sourced.

When Mosley’s narrative reaches May 1933, the point when Zanuck is on the verge of founding his new company, we’re told that he and several associates decided to go on a hunting trip to Alaska. The location is not correct, but chronologically – and in one other, unmistakable respect – there can be no doubt that this refers to the Revelstoke trip. From Mosley’s book:

“There is a mystery about this trip, and no perusal of Zanuck’s papers or those of his former associates seems to elucidate it,” he writes. “Something happened that changed his whole attitude towards hunting. All that can be gathered from the thin stories that are still gossiped around was that the hunting party went on the track of a polar bear somewhere in the Alaskan wilderness [sic], and when the vital moment came it was Zanuck who stepped out to shoot down the charging, furious animal. His bullet, it is said, found its mark all right, but it did not kill. The polar bear came on, and Zanuck stood his ground, pumping away with his rifle. Only this time it was not ‘him or me,’ but ‘him’ and someone else. The wounded and enraged bear, still alive and still charging, swerved around Zanuck and swiped with his great paw at one of the men standing behind him – and only after it had killed this other man did it fall at last into the snow, and die itself. That’s the story, and no one seems to be able to confirm it nor remember the name of the man who died. The only certain thing is that when Zanuck came back, he announced to Virginia that he had given up hunting. And he never went out and shot a wild animal again, not even a jackrabbit for his supper.”

VI. The Coda

Was John Adolfi killed by a bear? It certainly seems possible, but if so, why didn’t the men in the hunting party simply report the truth? Even if their boss was indirectly responsible, having fired the shots that caused the bear to charge, he couldn’t be blamed for the actions of a dying animal. But it’s also possible the event unfolded like a recent tragedy on the Montana-Idaho border. There, in September 2011, two men named Ty Bell and Steve Stevenson were on a hunting trip. Bell shot what he believed was a black bear. When the bear, a grizzly, attacked Stevenson, Bell fired again – and killed both the bear and his friend.

That seems to be the more likely scenario. If Zanuck fired at the wounded bear, in an attempt to save Adolfi, and killed both bear and man instead, it would perhaps explain a hastily contrived false story. It would most definitely explain the prompt cremation of Adolfi’s body in Vancouver. Back in Hollywood Joe Schenck was busy raising money, and lots of it, to launch Zanuck’s new company. Any unpleasant information about the new company’s chief – certainly anything suggestive of manslaughter – could jeopardize the deal. A man hit with a cerebral hemorrhage in the prime of life is a tragedy of natural causes, but a man sprayed with bullets in a shooting, accidental or not, is something else again. That goes double if alcohol was involved, as it reportedly was on Zanuck’s earlier hunting trips.

Of course, it’s also possible that Adolfi did indeed suffer a cerebral hemorrhage. Like his father.

John G. Adolfi is a Hollywood ghost. Most of his works are lost, and his name is forgotten. (Even George Arliss couldn’t be bothered to spell it correctly.) Every now and then TCM will program one of the Arliss vehicles, or Sinners’ Holiday. Not long ago they showed Adolfi’s fascinating B-picture Central Park, that slam-bang souvenir of the early Depression years in which several plot strands are deftly inter-twined. One of the subplots involves a mentally ill man, a former zoo-keeper who escapes from an asylum and returns to the place where he used to work, the Central Park Zoo. He has a score to settle with an old nemesis, an ex-colleague who tends the big cats. As the story approaches its climax, the escaped lunatic deliberately drags his enemy into the cage of a dangerous lion and leaves him there. In the subsequent, harrowing scene, difficult to watch, the lion attacks and practically kills the poor bastard.

by William Charles Morrow

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

My sources for this article, in addition to the Mosley biography cited in the text, include Stephen M. Silverman’s The Fox That Got Away: The Last Days of the Zanuck Dynasty at Twentieth-Century Fox (1988), and Marlys J. Harris’s The Zanucks of Hollywood: The Dark Legacy of an American Dynasty (1989). For material on John Adolfi I made extensive use of the files of the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. Special thanks to James Bigwood for his prodigious research on the Adolfi family genealogy, and to Mary Maler, John Adolfi’s great-niece, for information she provided on her family.

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thejosh1980 · 3 years ago

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I was lookin' back to see if she was lookin' back...

Yesterday Alex, Mum and I celebrated...

It's been one year since Alex and I arrived at Mum's place in Ocean Shores, NSW Australia.

If you've read my earlier blogs in 2020, you'll know that we had a lot of trouble getting home. Between the government and airlines, at one point it looked like we'd never get here; we were stranded. I was living in constant worry, stress and hopelessness - in fact, we all were: Alex's family in Germany and Mum's family down under.

Our July 2020 flights were cancelled or rescheduled many times, and eventually we decided to buy new, more expensive flights, on another airline through an agency, which gave us some assurances we'd be on the flight. Our new flights booked and confirmed for early September.

We flew Frankfurt to Adelaide, which was not our original plan. Adelaide had no COVID, and the chance of getting on a flight and getting into the country was higher than say, Brisbane, or Sydney. We could quarantine in Adelaide for 2 weeks and then fly on to Brisbane, which is closer to Ocean Shores.

That was like.... so last year...

This area where we now live is known as the Northern Rivers of New South Wales, and when we arrived at Mum's there was no COVID in the area. We are only about 35 minutes south of the Queensland border, about 8 hours north of the big smoke, Sydney.

Now, a year on, COVID has arrived here.

It's been biting at the heals of tourists and essential workers travelling north since Sydney went into lockdown a couple of months ago.

It's not our idea of a good time.

Right now it's school holidays, which is meant to be 2 weeks of families holidaying in caravan parks and hotels, an essential part of this tourist attraction mecca. Byron Bay, Brunswick Heads, and surrounds are usually very popular places; so popular that most locals complain about how busy it gets here during the holidays. You just can't get a parking sport anywhere!

The Northern Rivers was locked down for about 6 weeks through August into September because cases from Sydney were getting into regional NSW. These regional areas affected by COVID weren't near here, but they made a blanket rule for everywhere outside of Sydney, just to be on the safe side.

Honestly, I don't blame them for the rule, regional outback Australia can't cope with COVID, there's few hospitals, beds, or COVID experience in the scrub and farm land.

Anyhow, I digress...

After those 6 weeks or so in lockdown, they lifted the restrictions here in the northern rivers (and other areas of NSW).

And now, after 2 weeks, lockdown is back on...

There are a couple of cases in the area. Snap lockdowns are the government's preferred method of containing outbreaks. Lockdown areas wherever cases pop up for a week or two (or longer) to limit exposure.

It reminds me constantly that life can change quickly at any time. I have decided I will not waste time once this current lockdown has ended (who knows when that will be). I will visit friends, family, and musicians who live close by. I want to see as many folks as quickly as possible, before another lockdown kicks in.

Besides the boring, never ending tale of COVID, there have been a few things happening this past year...

Alex has been working consistently in the real estate industry since her temporary visa kicked in late last year.

Her first job was a few more miles away than any of us locals would consider driving, and the position wasn't as enjoyable or rewarding as she had first hoped. She really dived in the deep end, and while she didn't drown, she probably needed a few swimming lessons before the attempt. It was a life lesson, one she took on board, and when a new job came up closer to home, she nailed the interview (as she always does), and hasn't looked back.

The 2nd job is less than half the distance away, strictly 9 to 5 and in a company which she enjoys. There's a strong company structure, good work ethic, and entertaining colleagues. Her supervisors, colleagues, and managers are all very supportive; I think she'll be sitting tight on this one for a while.

Alex has also found her creative side again, scrap book journalling, instant camera photography, and some kind of couples diary/journal/photo book too. It's become an almost nightly affair of focusing, creating, and having something to show for it fairly quickly. She's very proud of her work, and it's something she does just for herself. I don't expect you'll get a chance to see a photo of what she's done, and she likes it like that.

I had a bit of work late in 2020 and early 2021, nothing special really, but wait until the premier!! It's interesting to think that some day soon I'll be able to go to the cinema and see my ugly mug on the big screen (even if it will most likely be out of focus). I'll be on Netflix too.

Having the opportunity to be an extra on film and TV was a real boost for my confidence after being off stage for so long. I felt creative, met some great people, made some friends, and had a few bucks in my pocket. Happy days.

By jumping into an industry I hadn't been in before right after arriving here, it reminded me that Australia has a lot to offer. I found myself comparing Germany and Australia, and Australia often feels like it comes up short. This was a chance to prove to myself that there are adventures awaiting here down under.

So, I decided to go back to school.

The last time I was in a class room was in 1998!! I am studying a Diploma of Counselling, and am currently half way through my studies. I've found it very challenging, but have passed every assessment so far, and gained some handy skills too. I have a good connection with my teachers, and I really enjoy the company of my classmates; some of which I can even call friends.

I chose counselling for a few reasons, but the first step was really just a process of elimination. Besides being a freelance professional musician for several years in Germany, I had worked in offices, shops, warehouses, kindergartens and various other jobs. While I could go back into IT or something similar, I wanted to use this opportunity to try something new.

I had my fair share of mental health issues in the past (and present). I thought maybe those experiences could help me connect with folks who need support as well. When looking at course options, the counselling course stood out. So now I'm making a mid life crisis gamble that I'll pass the course, and feel confident and knowledgeable enough to take on the role that many others have taken on for me over the years.

The course has helped me find a routine too, one that I didn't know I needed, until it happened. When you're jobless and unfocused, the mind wanders, the days pass. Now my mind is focused on study, and I feel better for it.

Up until the lockdown hit, we were in class 3 days a week and then I'd study from home 1 to 3 days a week. When lockdown hit, we had to go online. However, being on the computer so much has worn me out, and I really start to enjoy those rare days where I am not looking at a screen!

To be honest, it's been challenging every step of the way, and I even thought about quitting several times in the past few months. However, my confidence has steadily risen to each challenge and I felt better for it.

That's the kind of vicious circle I enjoy.

In July I had my first live show in 13 months! In fact, to date I've only had 3 since the pandemic started! Fingers crossed I can cross the border next month and add a 4th.

I was approached by Cherry Divine to play guitar for her. It's a relatively easy gig for me. The songs are fun rockabilly tunes, Cherry sings great, and she already has a band and gigs. I'm helping her write a few songs too, for her next album. I can't thank her enough for sparkin' the fire in me to keep music alive in my life; for a while there I thought it was all a thing of the past.

With the spark has come the possibility of “The Josh” solo band coming together. While the band isn't moving at any great speed (the recent 2nd lockdown kicked in right as I was about to arrange a rehearsal), I'm finally eager to get a band together. I miss playing live, and I miss having musicians in my life. I miss the spontaneity of a show, life on the road, and crowd reactions.

I've even started to write some new material, and get those ideas on “tape”, well, on the computer. Slow and steady, between studying, family, pets and surfing, music is coming back into my life, and it feels good.

Our family unit here is doing well. Alex and I have been under mum's roof and mum's care for a year now. There are some ups and downs, but mostly I'd say they're ups... The house is big enough to give all of us space, all of us get time outside of the house (except during lockdown, I was mostly stuck at home, but that's OK for me)...

Last night we couldn't go out for dinner, but we did have take away from the local Indian which was really good, and a special treat for us, we don't eat out often.

Alex and I plan to get away every 5-6 months for a visit to somewhere we haven't been. In March we were on the “Sunshine Coast” and checked out Australia Zoo, and in June we went south to the mid north coast to pick up BB Junior.

It's nice to get out and explore. A bit hard to do at the moment, with the restrictions, but we've agreed another trip away (before Christmas if possible) is in order. Those trips are part of the reason why I came home, to see some of Australia, and I'm lucky I get to make those experiences with Alex.

It's also nice to get away from it all. I know we live in a beautiful spot near the ocean, but here, at home, there's the computers, the life and routine, and getting away keeps us fresh and focused on each other. It's definitely something I look forward to!

Speaking of BB Junior, he's almost 7 months old now, and a real character. While he's not the easiest cat to train, I've been getting a few tricks out of him, and he enjoys his time outside, with his harness and long lead. He visits his cousin each week for play time, Charlie, who is another ragdoll of a family friend who loves to play chase all day long with Junior. Alex adores Junior, and Junior adores Alex; they can't wait to cuddle when she comes home from work. He's very vocal too, so even when everyone is at work, I have someone to talk to!

Losing our little boy Mijo was a real difficult experience. I know I've written about him before, but he deserves a mention here, as he was a big part of our first year here. He was full of character and strength, he and I bonded very quickly and not a day goes by I don't think of him. He also brought Alex and I closer together. When she chose him for me, and when he passed, and all points in between, he brought us closer.

I've been focused on sport a fair bit since getting back and settling in. I bought a RowErg, also known as a rowing machine, and I row about twice a week, in addition to riding my bicycle about twice a week. I try to surf every chance I get, which unfortunately ends up being only a few times a month. It's my goal to do something sporty to get my heart rate up every day, and of late, usually I get there too. I don't really do it for any other reason than I love to snack and I can't snack if I don't do sport!

A benefit of my sport/snack workout routine is it helps me stay calm and focused and connected with those I ride and surf with.

I haven't asked Mum how she's feeling about having her middle aged son and his wife living with her recently. Maybe I should, but do I really wanna know the answer? Well, I think she's OK with it. After all, we drive her wherever she wishes! I suspect it goes a little deeper than that, and in all honesty, we enjoy each other's company.

Since Alex and I have been here, I'd like to think Mum has been living a little bit fuller life. I don't think her eyesight has deteriorated much in the past year, but we've been able to provide her with support, eyes to read the small print, driving and help with google, or something around the house. When Mum was diagnosed with celiac disease earlier this year, Alex took her shopping to check over the ingredients of Mum's favourite food, and when needed, found alternatives. It definitely made the transition to gluten free a little easier on Mum and it was a load off my mind that we were around to help her through that phase.

Winter 2021 was over before it even started. I forgot how warm this part of the world is, and I don't know why I own so many jackets! Returning from Europe, where I was wearing a jacket daily for about 9 months of the year, here it feels like, if it's really needed, and I mean if you're desperate, you might need one for 9 weeks of the year. I think the heater was on a handful of times, and the sun was shining just about every day.

I tell ya, it's some kind of paradise here.

It's been a bit difficult keeping up with our European friends and family. I sometimes find it hard to find the time to be proactive to contact the 20, 30 or more friends I'd like to keep in touch with regularly. I know our lives keep on keepin' on, but time passes by so quickly too, and next thing you know it's been 4 months since I last contacted you!

Sorry about that!

Don't take it personally, and I'll get back to you, eventually!

My overall mental health has improved over the year, I'd say it's become quite stable since I started the course. I mean, can't you tell? I write less and less in this blog, because I have less and less to process. I'm not sure if it's the fact there's a lot of self reflection that is inherently a part of doing that kind of mental health course, or if it's the routine of being a student or the new friends I've made and classmates I study with.

It could be that it's taken a year to come to terms with being back here, cause when I first arrived I felt uncomfortable, depressed and worn out... There were a lot of questions; is this a mid life crisis? What am I doing here? Will I ever feel good again? Is my music career over? What am I going to do now? Is Alex OK? Is Mum OK?

My journalling, blogging, and support from friends and family has helped a lot too this past year. Processing my thoughts in words, by clarifying and reflecting, has helped a lot. I've been trying to care for myself a bit more now and then too, I think people call it self care, sometimes I call it sport! Alex has helped me to recognise my achievements, however big or small, and focus less on what I haven't done.

I'm not perfect, but definitely improving.

I was hoping that Alex and I would be in a position to start looking at buying our own house around this time, a year in, but unfortunately, with one of us being a student and the ever rising cost of housing, we have to sit tight on that idea for a while longer. Sorry Mum, you're stuck with us.

There's been many smaller things happen during our first year here. Lots of moments of gratitude, love and support. There's some stuff we've forgotten, or that has been overtaken by something bigger. All in all, I'd say it's been a real rollercoaster home coming!

We're still here, a year on, still going strong, making motions, taking chances, being in love, talking shit, laughing, smiling, misbehaving and focusing... What more could we ask for?

Thank you for reading, for your support and love. I love you too.

Josh

#covid pandemic #1 year celebration #reflection #family life #relationships

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

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Won’t You Stay (Part 12)

Summary: With the reader now acting and directing, things are about to get a bit more hectic. Until things go horribly wrong that is...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, implied past domestic abuse, arguing

A/N: Please enjoy!

_____

“Put your left foot back,” said your stunt coordinator the next morning, Jensen sipping on a coffee as he watched you rehearse on some mats. “Now get your butt in here Ackles. It’s your stunt too.”

“But coffee,” he whined, chugging it down quickly before he set the empty cup down. He jogged over and took a place by you, giving you a smile. “She has no idea what she’s gonna do, does she.”

“Y/N, we’re gonna have you flip, Jensen,” said Adam. You stared at him and then at Jensen, looking him up and down.

“I can’t flip him! Have you seen the size of him?” you said.

“Shouldn’t have written Molly getting pissed and going hulk then,” said Jensen. “It’s not a big stunt. You don’t even have a real fight scene. One little flip is all.”

“Jensen, come at her like we practiced. Slowly,” said Adam. Jensen walked in front of you and made the first move Adam had showed you. You grabbed his hand and Jensen spun you around. “Pause. Y/N. Now that your side is to him, you’re gonna use your hip to flip him.”

“Uh...” you said, Adam stepping in and taking your place.

“You’re gonna plant your feet, Jensen’s going to lean forward and then...” he said, pushing out his hip, tugging gently on Jensen’s arm and then using his hip to get Jensen up and over. He slammed back down on the mat and gave a thumbs up. “Y/N, you’re up.”

Jensen hopped up to his feet and got back in position. You started the move again, pausing when you got to lifting him up.

“You got power in those hips. Go on, use it,” said Adam.

“You won’t hurt me, Y/L/N,” said Jensen. You grabbed his hand and put out your hip, Jensen leaning forward and you felt yourself pick him up, leaning forward so you could flip him on the ground.

“Good, very good. Let’s try again a little faster,” said Adam. You reset and tried it again, Adam smiling more this time as it looked more natural. It certainly felt it. “Good. Perfect. Practice a few more times but I think you guys got this. I’m gonna grab another coffee and Jensen we’ll work your fight scene for tomorrow more when I get back.”

“He gets to enjoy his coffee,” said Jensen, rolling over on the ground.

“Can we try a few more times, grumpy?” you asked. “I’ll let you in on the secret coffee club.”

“There’s a secret coffee club?” he said, shooting up with a smile.

“Yup. Very elite. If you help me learn this stunt, I can pull a few strings and get you in,” you teased. He smirked and stepped in front of you.

“Oh, I think I’m getting in no matter what,” he said.

“Is that a fact?”

“I can be very persuasive when I want to be,” he said.

“Oh really,” you said. He hummed and wrapped his arms around you. “Not very effective.”

“It will be,” he said, dipping his head down to your neck and kissing under your jaw.

“Cheater,” you growled, giggling when it started to tickle.

“Morning kids,” said your dad, Jensen practically jumping away from you. “I’m not interrupting am I?”

“Practicing a stunt,” you said, Jensen nodding quickly. Your dad looked him up and down.

“That what they’re calling it nowadays,” he smirked. “Don’t mind me. Carry on.”

“Just uh, really go for it this time,” said Jensen. You nodded as you started the move again, your dad humming as you flipped Jensen over.

“Jensen, get a bit closer to her. She won’t need to put out her hip so far and it won’t look as rough,” said your dad. He shrugged as he got back up, your dad rolling his eyes when Jensen got into a new position. “No, get up behind her, like touching.”

“Like this?” asked Jensen, his thigh brushing the back of your leg.

“Yeah. Try it that way. You’ll both save your backs a bit,” he said. You tried flipping Jensen again and it felt like one smooth motion that time, your dad giving a thumbs up. “Much better.”

You practiced a few more times before Adam returned and you swapped out with your dad, he and Jensen going over a fight scene.

“Jensen, come find me when you’re done here,” you said.

“Will do, pretty girl.”

“Reporting for duty,” said Jensen, knocking on the door of your office up in the production suite an hour later. You smiled and finished typing an email, sending it off. “I was hoping I could get in on this coffee deal before we start filming soon.”

“You going to try giving me a hickey again?” you said as you stood up and grabbed your bag.

“Only if you want,” he said, flashing a wink your way. You laughed and headed out to the hall with him. “I take my coffee very seriously so I hear about a secret coffee club, I’m in.”

“You know how my dad and some people stop over to the workshop in the morning where they build sets? Check out office B sometime,” you said.

“Why not now?” he said.

“Because I have to go to a staff meeting,” you said. “Unfortunately.”

“You could always skip,” he said.

“I don’t think I can. But head over and grab some before we get going. We’ll start in twenty minutes,” you said. “Okay? I’ll be over soon.”

“There she is,” said your dad when you finally made it to set half an hour later. “You forget where work was?”

“Can everyone gather around?” you called. You walked over to the center of set, waiting a beat for the crew to get together. You shut your eyes and let out a slow breath of air, reluctantly opening them. “Alright guys. I just had a meeting with the studio execs. Apparently a complaint was made yesterday about the slowness of filming scenes I was involved in. I would have preferred whoever it was came to me or their supervisor directly but it’s too late for that now. The studio decided that I can either continue as the director on this project or I can be an actor. I apparently lack the experience necessary to manage a project of this scale while doing both.”

You took another deep breath and sighed.

“I…” you said, finding your dad’s face in the crowd. “I have decided-“

“It was me,” he said. You stared at him, your face falling. “Can we discuss this in private?”

He stepped forward and grabbed your hand, pulling you outside.

“Kiddo-“

“No,” you said, shrugging him off. “I...I just told them I would stop production so they can find a new actress. Either way this thing is dead. They’ll never pick it back up now so thanks for that.”

“Y/N-“

“Fuck you,” you said as you stormed away. You felt his hand on your arm and you turned around. “Stay away from me. Forever.”

“Y/N,” he said.

“You know, this book, this movie, has been the one fucking happy thing in my life the past year and you had to go and rip it away from me because I ran us late one fucking day,” you said. “You gave me six fucking hours to figure out how to manage everything before you went and pulled the carpet out from under me. Six hours. I was delegating today, I was figuring it out but apparently it was too fucking late for you.”

“Kiddo-“

“No. Just stop. Big fucking movie star, always gets his way. Well work is cancelled. Go the fuck home. You don’t have to worry about being late now,” you said. You could feel the tears running down your face and knew you couldn’t go back inside and talk to everyone like that.

“You can’t do both. I could see how overwhelmed-“

“I am not a child!” you shouted back. “You do not make those decisions for me! Who the fuck are you to say I can’t do something? Fuck you. You’re a fucking shitty dad. I would have been better off with the bitchy dead mom.”

He stared at you as you wiped off your face with your shirt. You walked back onto set, ignoring the looks you were getting.

“As I was saying, I decided to keep my directorial role. Production is going on hiatus while the project searches for a new female lead,” you said, voice cracking. “It’s unclear how long that will be but the estimate given to me was for months. Information will be sent out by email later today. I apologize for the delay and look forward to working with everyone again soon.”

You practically ran out of there, making your way towards your production office when a hand caught your wrist and started to drag you along after them. You looked up, Jensen pulling your hat down over your face as you started to cry harder.

“Almost there,” he said, a trailer door opening. He locked it after himself and he set you down on his couch, kneeling down in front of you. “Hey. Hey. When they find a new lead-“

“It’s dead. After today, it’s never gonna happen. I know it’s just a stupid movie and it doesn’t matter-“

“It’s not a stupid movie. It’s yours. It’s not stupid,” said Jensen, wiping off your face and brushing his thumbs under your wet eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought you did great yesterday.”

“I can’t believe it was my dad who complained. He’s not supposed to hurt me,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Why does everyone hurt me, Jens? What’s wrong with me? I’m so pathetic. We need to stop this before you find whatever it is that’s wrong too.”

“Hey,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m falling for you and I’m not leaving. There’s nothing wrong with you. I don’t know why your dad did that but I don’t think he wanted to hurt you.”

“Too fucking late,” you said. “I was so mad and...I just said something horrible to him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Jensen. “You’ll get past it, both of you will.”

“I can’t,” you said. “If it was anyone else...I was so proud of this stupid thing.”

“Honey,” said Jensen quietly. You shook and he sat up on the couch, pulling you to sit on his lap. “You’ll be okay. It’ll come back.”

“I’m sorry. Now you don’t have a job or a paycheck-”

“Y/N, stop freaking out. Don’t worry about the rest of us,” he said. You sighed into his chest and he ran a hand up and down your back for a few minutes until you’d calmed down.

“Thank you,” you mumbled eventually, Jensen kissing the top of your head. “Sorry I’m such a shitty girlfriend. This is supposed to be the fun part of the relationship.”

“I think the whole thing is supposed to be the fun part,” he said. You lifted your head up, a smile on his face making you feel a little better. “Despite what you may think, I’ve been having fun this whole time. Relationships and lives aren’t perfect. I don’t want a perfect one. That’s boring. I’ll take this and you, however that looks.”

“Okay, fanboy,” you said, taking a deep breath.

“There she is,” he said, smushing his cheek against yours, a bit of peace returning to you.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder.

“No. Whatever happened in the past, you didn’t deserve that,” he said.

“I cheated on Logan,” you said.

“He sounds like he definitely deserved it,” said Jensen.

“It was a hookup, guy I met at a bar. Nice guy but it’s all it was. I came home that night, back to my apartment with Logan and if I thought I’d seen him angry before, that was nothing,” you said. “I just wanted to be with a nice guy, someone kind, just for a minute.”

“You should be with a nice guy for a lot longer than a minute,” said Jensen. “I think you were justified to do what you did. Don’t feel bad over that.”

“I don’t. I regret it because that’s when it went from controlling to worse,” you said. “After a week of getting pushed around, I left but by then I was so beaten down and he’d fucked up my head and then my book got picked to become a movie. I was so happy, for the first time in over two years, I was happy,” you said. “I hung onto it too hard and that’s why it hurts so much to lose it.”

“You didn’t hang on too hard. I’m glad you found that thing to pull you out. It’s not the only thing you have to cling to though, Y/N. Not anymore,” he said. “You know that, right?”

“I’m not putting that on you.”

“Too late. It’s my job,” he said. You didn’t say anything and felt his chest rumble. “You have your family too.”

“No I don’t. I can never tell my siblings about Logan,” you said.

“What about your mom?”

“She loves dad, not me,” you said.

“That’s not true and you know it,” he said. “She’s your mom.”

“She wanted him, not me. She’ll pick him,” you mumbled.

“Is that what Logan told you?” he asked. You kept your mouth shut and Jensen sighed. “Don’t give that fuckface anymore control, Y/N. You’re not alone. You never were.”

“I can’t talk to them,” you said. “What if she got mad about him being late last night?”

“Y/N, stop spinning your wheels. I’ve met your parents and your dad is my friend. They love you. I’m sure he thought he was doing something to help,” he said.

“Yes, clearly it helped,” you said.

“Why don’t I take you home?” he asked.

“Alright,” you said with a nod. “It’s not like I have to go back to work now.”

It was nighttime when you finally got an email from the production office. You tapped it open, frowning and quickly sitting up from the couch.

“What the fuck…” you said. You read the email about fifteen times before you were calling Mark and AJ. “Guys, did you read the email?”

“Yeah. I thought we were dead in the water. Apparently we’re just on a filming break until Monday while we figure out a plan for directing duties while you film scenes? Did you have some other kind of meeting we don’t know about?” asked Mark.

“No. This project was on hiatus last I knew,” you said.

“Unless someone higher up changed their mind, I don’t know how we caught this break,” said AJ. You stood up and went to your closet, grabbing a jacket. “Y/N?”

“I think I have an idea of what happened. Or who. I’ll see you guys at the office eight tomorrow morning? We can map everything out,” you said.

“Yeah, sounds good boss,” said AJ. “You okay? You ran out of there pretty quick today. We tried looking for you but you were gone.”

“I’m not sure yet,” you said. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

You hung up and called Jensen, his phone going to voicemail. You tried again and got the same thing. When you were about to redial a text came in from your dad.

Come over. Jensen’s here. We need to talk.

You stared at the phone and squeezed your eyes shut before you grabbed your keys and were gone.

_______

A/N: Read Part 13 here!

#supernatural #spn #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural series #supernatural reader insert #jensen ackles x reader #spn reader insert #jensen reader insert #jensen x #jensen ackles x you

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bibliophilicwitch · 4 years ago

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Okay this is going to be a pretty big update related to work. And it’s gonna be pretty big because I haven’t been writing my rambling posts lately because I’ve been too busy at work when I normally would’ve gotten my feelings written down. idk how many are interested in this these days, but I know I’ve had followers that found my work updates interesting.

As you may remember I worked as a supervisor at a fabric store for many years and was worked into the ground with a horrible pittance for my effort. That company folded and I worked at Target for just over a year at the front end to utilize my management skills, but I realized that I had basically learned everything I could in such retail settings and I wasn’t happy. So I left and ended up working for Shopko pharmacy... for about a year until they also folded.

So the last two years I have been working at a Kroger pharmacy. I will be blunt - I am not a fan of Kroger though the reasons why are not specific to just Kroger but are evident in most retail pharmacy chains (and corporate customer service in general).

When we started administering COVID vaccines it was... rough. It wasn’t quite as horrible as the first few months after opening the new pharmacy because now we have learned a lot and know how to do most of what we’re doing and overall our patients are not abusing us as they had early on. But we are running around 26 vaccines over the course of two hours and not processing and dispensing medications during that time so we then spend the rest of the day frantically attempting to catch up while all of our patients that had to wait until we resumed daily services flooded us at once. We were short a tech for nearly three months and she has just returned and I already noticed the difference this past week. This means that now we are not spread thin with no extra coverage but instead no longer have to pick up tons of extra hours on top of having no extra coverage to help catch up from the vaccine clinic.

A few weeks ago I stayed over five hours after my shift, two of which during closed hours, and even two techs working literally all day including after closing with the pharmacist and getting caught up on several projects wasn’t enough because by noon the next day we were already sinking. It was at that point that I determined I was done. It didn’t matter how much we tried, we couldn’t get ahead and this meant that every day it felt like we were terrible techs unable to do our jobs competently.

I didn’t have any deadlines or programs at the library the following Monday so I decided to use my first vacation day in over a year for a three-day weekend only to be asked if I could come in Monday evening at the pharmacy because it was such a shit show. I decided not to go in because we are very limited on what we can do after 5 anyways but I felt so damn guilty about it so a few days later I started job hunting with the goal of looking for something that will use the different skillsets I have developed at the library hopefully I can find a part-time job running a local business’s social media though that isn’t very likely in the small community I live in. All I know is that I am Done with pharmacy.

Meanwhile about ten years ago I started working at the circulation desk at my local library and found I was truly passionate about libraryship as a career. I’ve wanted to work in technical services processing books full-time for years, but technology and the changes of how libraries run means this is not a likely option unless I am at a much larger library. Around five years ago I kinda fell into the program and volunteer coordinator position and while I have had to manage many challenges and work to improve myself to meet those challenges it has been a good experience. Unfortunately it is only a 20hr position and after years of telling my director I would like more hours and I could bring so much more to the position if I had those hours, she kept hesitating to explore that.

This past year my old director retired and we hired a new director. This director has experience at libraries that had dedicated positions for building and managing an online presence and reaching communities in a variety of ways, so when she heard the ideas and suggestions I made throughout the pandemic while we were offering services virtually and determining that we had a HORRIBLE online presence it became an interest to her to possibly utilize my skillset to build that online presence. She tasked me with working on social media plans only to realize I was overburdened with programming at 20 hours and unable to put time into social media so she stepped that back.

The need to build our online presence hasn’t gone away though as Youth Services posts all their virtual programs via Facebook Live and has been sharing many other posts and Adult Services has stepped up their game as well meaning posting conflicts have started to be an issue since everyone has basically just been posting whatever they want with little to no consistency or branding. So my director tasked me with herding cats even though there has been no recognition of my role as a leader leading to me not wanting to overstep.

I asked my director in my bi-monthly meeting about a desire for more hours as well as a better understanding of my role in the future of our library. My city fucked up their budget a year or two ago and with COVID our hours and positions are actually on a freeze so I cannot get more hours though my director does have the goal of getting more hours to a few positions including mine. We are joining our local system this year which may mean we do not need our technical services positions so if any of them leave those hours could be allocated elsewhere. I just have no idea when these hours could become available. But this conversation did lead to giving all of programming to Adult Services and having my job become marketing and volunteer coordinator instead of program and volunteer coordinator.

My only concern is that this change may mean my position doesn’t need more hours later down the road? And that is literally all I want: a full-time position at my current library (since I am settled into this community) so I can work one damn job and have benefits. (My teeth have been a mess for years and yesterday I ate a nut wrong and was in so much pain I left one job early and called in sick to the other.)

Over the past couple of years Youth Services has started tasking each of their staff with planning and running their own programs and our goal is to do something similar with Adult Services. The biggest issue with that is that my current programs may not really play to any of Adult Services strengths, so some of my programs may be dissolved later this year.

I suspect Garden Guru which we market and host but is planned and presented by Master Gardener Volunteers will continue as it is fantastic series with minimal work on our end. We will probably end up changing around book club a fair bit which is fine as it has always been in a state of flux as I worked to figure out how to make it work well. Paint & Sip hasn’t been run in over a year due to the pandemic but will likely continue in some form. Make & Mingle has been monthly kits which is EXTREMELY time consuming and will likely be changed a fair bit when taken over by Adult Services at least during the transition and probably afterwards as they plan for its future.

Paint & Sip’s popularity has been my biggest frustration over the years but it and Make & Mingle have also been the most gratifying for me as I have always gotten the most positive feedback during and after those programs from participants. Also my office is basically a craft storage space and I am going to miss being known for the crafts.

I need to write up a new job description. I need to write out my programming planning and organization for Adult Services as a guide as they take over. I need to continue moving the Google Drive folders from my personal Google to the library’s new Gmail so that Adult Services will have control over them. I need to make sure these programs are all planned out enough to make sure transition is relatively smooth (Adult Services staff will either shadow my programs a few times or I will shadow with them as they take over and I figure I will work with the staff picking up different programs for transition plans).

So yeah... a fuck ton has been going on the last several months both overwhelming and exciting.

#text #personal #general related #work related #:pharmacy #:library #this is why i am always too busy to post my usual little updates

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 4 years ago

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

May 10, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

A poll today by the Associated Press (AP) and the National Opinion Research Center (NORC) shows that President Joe Biden’s administration is gaining positive traction. Sixty-three percent of Americans approve of how he is handling his job as president. Seventy-one percent approve of how he is handling the coronavirus pandemic; 62% percent approve of how he is handling health care. Fifty-seven percent approve of how he is handling the economy; 54% approve of how he is handling foreign affairs.

Fifty-four percent of Americans think the country is going in the right direction. This is the highest number since 2017, but it is split by party: 84% of Democrats like the country’s direction, while only 20% of Republicans do.

Biden’s weak spots are in immigration, where 43% approve and 54% disapprove, and gun policy, where 48% approve and 49% disapprove.

And yet, Biden’s people have been working to address the influx of migrant children; White House Secretary Jen Psaki noted last week that “At the end of March, there were more than 5,000 children in Customs and Border Protection Patrol stations. Today, that number is approximately 600…. The amount of time children spend in CBP facilities is down by 75 percent — from 131 hours at the end of March to under 30 hours now.”

The administration has backed that short-term work with a long-term initiative. Last week, Vice President Kamala Harris met virtually with Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador, the leader of the left of center populist nationalist coalition party MORENA, to talk about finding ways to promote economic development to address the root causes prompting the flight of refugees from Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador and southern Mexico. They also talked about working together to protect human rights and dismantle the criminal networks that smuggle migrants. She will travel to Guatemala and Mexico in June, where she will meet with their leaders.

Disapproval of Biden’s gun policies might well reflect a desire for a stronger stance. In April, a Morning Consult/Politico poll showed that 64% of registered voters supported stricter gun control laws. We have had an average of ten mass shootings a week in 2021, 194 in all. (A mass shooting is one in which four people are killed or wounded.)

This week, Biden will be meeting with bipartisan groups of leaders, including Representative Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) and Senator Mitch McConnell (R-KY), to begin to hammer out an infrastructure measure based on his American Jobs Plan. He will also meet with Senators John Barrasso (R-WY), Roy Blunt (R-MO), Mike Crapo (R-ID), Pat Toomey (R-PA), Roger Wicker (R-MS), and Shelley Moore Capito (R-WV), who have proposed their own $568 billion proposal without corporate tax hikes.

As the good news from the administration is starting to filter into the media, bad news from the Trump wing of the Republican Party is also starting to get traction. On Saturday, we learned that at retreats in March and April, staff for the National Republican Congressional Committee refused to tell lawmakers how badly Trump is polling in core battleground districts, where 54% see Biden favorably while only 41% still favor Trump. Vice President Kamala Harris, the $1.9 trillion American Rescue Plan, and the $2.3 trillion American Jobs Plan are all more popular in those districts than the former president.

Indeed, it is more than a little odd that party leaders are bending over backward to tie their party to a former president who, after all, never broke 50% favorability ratings—the first time in polling history that had happened—and who lost both the White House and Congress.

Another set of data from Catalist, a voter database company in Washington, D.C., shows that the 2020 election was the most diverse ever, with Latino and Asian voters turning out in bigger numbers than ever before. Black voting increased substantially, while Asian-American and Pacific Islander voters had a decisive increase in turnout. The electorate was 72% white, down 2% from 2016 and 5% from 2008. Thirty-nine percent of Biden-Harris voters were people of color (61% were white); only 15% of Trump-Pence voters were POC (85% were white).

This demographic trend is behind the new voter suppression bills in Republican states. But the racial breakdown of the 2020 vote is not the only problem for the current Republican Party. The biggest turnout gains in 2020 were among young voters, 18 to 40 years old, who now make up 31% of voters, while those over 55 have dropped to only 44% of the electorate. Younger voters skew heavily toward the Democrats. Also notable was that women break heavily toward Democrats by a 10 point gap—79% of women of color support Democrats; 58% of white women voted for Biden-Harris—and women make up 54% of the electorate overall.

News out of the private “recount” in Arizona by Cyber Ninjas, a company without experience in election recounts and whose owner has already gone on record as believing that rigged voting machines in Arizona cost Trump victory, continues to be embarrassing as well. Although the Maricopa County Board of Supervisors, which has a Republican majority, said the count was fair and opposed a recount, sixteen Republicans in the state senate voted to give the ballots for Maricopa County, which includes Phoenix, to the company for a private recount. The count has been plagued by conspiracy theories—one observer claimed they are examining the ballots for signs of bamboo in the paper to show that tens of thousands of ballots were flown in from Asia—and it turned out that one of the people recounting the ballots had been at the January 6 riot at the Capitol. Now the “recount” is running so far behind it appears it won’t be done until August, rather than May 14 as the company promised.

State senator Paul Boyer, who voted for the “audit,” told New York Times reporter Michael Wines: “It makes us look like idiots…. Looking back, I didn’t think it would be this ridiculous. It’s embarrassing to be a state senator at this point.”

And then, this morning, the Washington Post dropped a long, investigative story by reporters Emma Brown, Aaron C. Davis, Jon Swaine, and Josh Dawsey revealing that the arguments former president Trump has grabbed to “prove” the election was stolen from him were part of a long conspiracy theory hatched in 2018 by Russell J. Ramsland, Jr., “a Republican businessman who has sold everything from Tex-Mex food in London to a wellness technology that beams light into the human bloodstream.” The story follows how Ramsland’s theories, which were debunked as “bat-s**t insane” by White House lawyers, got pumped into the media by Representative Louie Gohmert (R-TX) and Trump’s lawyer Rudy Giuliani, among others, and how Trump came to embrace them.

While Republican leaders are still standing behind those theories, and the former president, opponents of the party’s direction are pushing back not just against Trump but also against those leaders supporting him. Representative Adam Kinzinger (R-IL) tweeted this morning: “A few days before Jan 6, our GOP members had a conference call. I told Kevin [McCarthy] that his words and our party’s actions would lead to violence on January 6th. Kevin dismissively responded with ‘ok Adam, operator next question.’ And we got violence.”

Representative Liz Cheney (R-WY) has narrated a video distributed by the Republican Accountability Project recalling the violence of January 6, blaming Trump for spreading lies about the election, and reminding viewers that more than 60 lawsuits disproved his claims that the election was stolen. The video says “we are the party of Lincoln. We are not the party of QAnon” (showing an image of Jacob Chansley, the so-called “QAnon Shaman,” who wore a horned headdress during the Capitol insurrection) “or white supremacy” (showing an image of Fox News Channel personality Tucker Carlson). “We cannot embrace insurrection” (showing a picture of Georgia Republican Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene). “President Trump provoked an attack on the United States Capitol which resulted in five people dying. That is a person who does not have a role as a leader of our party going forward.” The video features an image of McCarthy standing with Trump. Cheney made it clear she was not about to shut up.

This afternoon, McCarthy released a statement calling for Cheney’s ouster as conference chair, featuring the line: “[u]nlike the left, we embrace free thought and debate.” (References to George Orwell, who famously wrote about how fascists used language to rewrite history, were all over Twitter.) McCarthy and other Trump loyalists have suggested that Cheney needs to go because she keeps talking about the past, but Allan Smith of NBC News points out that Trump himself seems to be the one who cannot stop talking about the past.

—-

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#political #corrupt GOP #criminal GOP #January 6 2021 #insurrection #Liz Cheney #Biden Administration #Heather Cox Richardson #Letters From An American

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greatfay · 4 years ago

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since ur answering asks and shit can u explain what u meant by generational differences in communication

Damn it’s like 2015 tumblr when my inbox used to be WET. So if you’re talking about the controversial opinions post, YES, like I totally understand where people are coming from when they say that generational divides aren’t real (because they aren’t, they’re arbitrary) and distract us from real problems and yes they paint past generations as collectively bigoted when Civil Rights protestors in the 60s (who are in their 70s and 80s now) are mirrors to BLM protestors today, who could be of any age, but the most vocal and famous (at least online, especially irt to the founders, like Patrisse Cullors who is 37.

But how we communicate is sooooo different. I really point to the Internet and Social Media as a major influence in how younger millennials (more Tom Hollands and less Seth Rogans—see even there, I feel like there are two different types of Millennials) and Gen Zrs/Zoomers and even Generation Alpha behave and communicate. We live in a world where we grew up either knowing right out the gate or discovering the hard way that what we say and do has permanence, the kind of permanence that prior generations have never experienced until today. The dumb things kids have been saying since forever can now follow them... forever. We have an inherent understanding of how online spaces work. Compare that to, idk, let’s say you posted on your Facebook (for the first time in 18 months) “All these big and bad grown ass Senators going after actual child Greta Gerwig lol ok, you’re so brave for attacking a CHILD over climate change” and then your aunt, who’s turning “forty-fifteen” in May replies to your post with “So happy to see my passionate niece! Much love from us, hope you’re doing well. Paul is doing great, waiting on his screening results. Tell your mom I said we miss her, we need to get together, we forgive her for last Christmas.”

Like... ok there’s a lot going on there, but your hypothetical aunt is oversharing on a publicly accessible post. And even with the most strict of privacy settings, she’s oversharing where your other Facebook friends (which may include classmates, coworkers, etc.) can see. But she’s saying things that would only be appropriate in a 1-on-1 conversation. This Aunt doesn’t have an understanding of such boundaries, she’s not as technologically literate and hasn’t grown up in a world of Virtual Space, she still gets most of her news from TV, she trusts what a reporter on Channel 4 will read off a script more than what actual video footage of an incident might reveal on Twitter, and she has no clue that she’s been sharing her location data with every post she makes.

There’s such a huge difference. I think it even affects how we experience and express stress and frustration. I think growing up partially in online spaces has made me more accustomed to conflict and consequence-free arguing than someone who never had to worry about that. I’ve been exposed so much to harassment and bullying, triangulating and echo chambers in forums and threads, and vastly opposing point of views at such an early age that it’s had an effect on how I see the world. Compare this to a customer I helped two weeks ago who was looking for a specific type of supplement for children. I found it for her, I handed her exactly what she was looking for, even though her description of the product actually matched several different products; to make sure I’d done my job thoroughly and that she leaves happy and satisfied and doesn’t bother me again, I then show her more products that match her description so that she knows she has options. And she proceeds to freak out, saying “NO, NO, I’M LOOKING FOR [X] AND IT HAS TO BE [XYZ]” and when I say freak out, she looked stressed and PANICKED. And being a retail employee wears you down bit by bit, and add COVID on top of it and little shit like this makes you snap, sometimes. So I have to cut her off like “Why are you screaming and freaking out, jfc you’re holding what you said you wanted. It’s in your hands. I gave you what you wanted, I’m just showing you more things.”

That customer is not an exception, she’s not a unique case. She’s representative of a frightening percentage of her generation, the kids who watched Grease and The Breakfast Club and Ghost in theaters when they were originally released. This is how they communicate and process information. She could not, for some reason, register that her need had been fulfilled, and defaulted to an extreme emotional response when given new and different information.

I’ve yet to deal with someone younger than 35 act the same way, the exceptions being the kids of very wealthy people at my new job who reek of privilege I gag when they walk in—but even they are like *shrugs* “ok whatever” and understanding when there’s something I can’t do for them.

Me: “sorry, we are totally out of that one in your size, but I can order it for you, it’s 2-3 day shipping at no cost to you and we ship it straight to your house”

A rich, white, attractive 22-year-old who’s had access to organic food, a rigorous dermatologist, and financial security since she was born: “mmm... sure, I’ll order it”

A 47-year-old of any socioeconomic background, of any race, in the same situation: “AHHHHHHHHHHH”

I just think it’s crazy how three generations of kids and young adults raised in a world where everything moves so much faster, where knowledge and entertainment and communication can be gathered so much faster, are often so much more polite and patient and understanding. Yesterday I told an older man (mid-50s) whose native tongue is the same as mine, as clearly and succinct as possible, that what he’s looking for is “in aisle 4.” He proceeded to repeat back, “Aisle 7?” four time before I dropped everything to show him what he needed in aisle 4, despite his insistence that he didn’t need me to walk him there. 4 and 7 sound nothing alike in English. There’s just something going on up there 🧠 that’s different.

Oh, other generational divides!!! We have different approaches to labor and working. Totally different! I’m a “young” millennial where I’m almost Gen Z, and I’ve noticed an awful trend among my demographic where people actually brag about working 90 hour work weeks. Or brag about how they skip breaks and live on-call to get the job done for “the hustle” like this “hustle, become a millionaire by 30″ culture that’s dominated these kids, idk where tf that came from. Like why are you proud of being a wage slave, getting taken advantage of by your millionaire/billionaire overlords. Compare this to my mother’s generation (she’s a borderline Genius X’er, she and her best friend were a year too young to watch Grease when it came out and had a random older woman buy tickets for her; she went to Prince concerts, took photos of him, then sold the photos on buttons at school, that’s her culture and teenage experience), where she’s insistent on her rights and entitlements as an employee, and these things she instilled me: “whatchu mean they didn’t schedule a break for you and you’re working 12 hrs today? oh no, you’re off, don’t answer your phone cuz you are NOT available!” There are Gen X’ers who entered the workforce at a time that America was drifting toward this corporate world, with more strictly defined regulations, roles, and understandings of labor rights (and also, let’s talk about how the 80s there was so much more attention on workplace harassment, misogyny and gender divides in wage gaps, etc. etc... not that much has changed, but at least it was talked about!). There are young people today who are taken advantage of because they aren’t as informed or don’t feel as secure and valuable enough to claim what belongs to them.

At the same time, those generations (Gen X and older) have a different viewpoint of hierarchies in the workplace and respect irt our direct supervisors. That’s how you get this blurring of boundaries between Work Life and one’s Personal Life that leads to common tropes in media written by their generations, where oh no! I’m having my boss over for dinner and the roast beef is still defrosting :O is such a “relatable thing” for them... meanwhile us younger generations are like I don’t even like that you know where I live, and if I see your 2017 Honda Civic pass my place one day, we’re going to have a problem. I think older generations have a different relationship with the word “Respect” than we do. Like, my grandma, who’s turning 87 (?) this year, and the other seniors in my area, they have a different concept of honor and an expectation of professional boundaries that I, and my mom and her generation, just don’t see (so then there’s something in common with Gen X’ers and the rest of us.) My dad grew up in a world where talking and acting like George Bailey and knocking on someone’s door with a big smile could get you a job, a job that could pay for college and rent no problem. My mom grew up in a world that demanded more prestige, where cover letters and references could get you into some cushy jobs if you’re persistent and ballsy enough. And I grew up in a world where potential employers literally don’t see your face when you apply unless they lurk on any social media profiles you have publicly available and they hold all the cards, and you need all those CVs and reference letters just to make minimum wage... so I feel like I am powerless in the face of such employers.

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howtobeapersonwithfibro · 4 years ago

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Disabled Sci-Fi: Internship-seeking Veronica

Here (below the cut) is the next short story in my Disabled Sci-Fi series. It centers around Veronica Lee, a wheelchair user living on a colony spaceship. She’s just finished high school and is looking for an intern position in her favorite field: science.

Feedback (and suggestions for future stories) always welcome :) I just really enjoy writing about disabled characters using the knowledge I’ve picked up about experiences from spoonie/disability tumblr and being disabled myself.

*****

Veronica takes a deep breath. She adjusts her position in her wheelchair to be a bit more comfortable. Tries to resist the urge to strangle the woman across the table.

“As you know, Ms. Lee,” the woman in the stiff, gray clothes continues, “Everyone has a role to play on the ship. We begin to look for career matches at age sixteen so that everyone can find their ideal role. I just imagine that our choices will be… limited… given your situation.”

Inwardly, Veronica rolls her eyes. Sometimes she may as well have three heads, for the way people struggle to talk to her like a normal person. Like being unable to walk is a situation and not just another detail of her life, like having straight hair. “I know why you might think that,” Veronica replies, choosing her words carefully. This woman is the only career counselor for the entire ship, so she doesn’t have the option of pissing her off. “But I think that accommodations can be made for most of the jobs around here. It’s not like I’m asking to be a zero-gravity engineer. And my chair can get almost anywhere, with all the ramps.”

The gray woman gives a small, forced smile, and says, “Alright then. What are your areas of interest?”

“I’m most interested in biology,” Veronica says, relieved to be talking about something else. “Whether it’s working in the medical wing or in a lab, I’m just really interested in those kinds of things.”

“Hmm,” the woman mutters, scrolling through a document on the screen in front of her. “There’s an open trainee position in the botany lab. Job description includes… let’s see here… working with microscopes and other various tools to alter plants and fight disease…”

“Sounds great. I was good with microscopes in my classes.” Maybe this is actually going to be fine, Veronica thinks.

“I’m looking over the images of the lab,” the woman goes on, “and all of the counters are standard-height. I’m not sure if you’d be able to reach everything you needed to--”

“Adjustments can be made,” Veronica interrupts.

“It’s just that the lab has very strict rules about what kind of furniture can be present, due to cleaning procedures, and…” she sighs. “I’m sorry. The system is quite inflexible sometimes, but the procedures are important for optimal plant growth.”

“The system is only as inflexible as we make it,” Veronica argues. “Please, just put me down for the trial position. I can talk to my trainer about making things work.”

The woman sighs. “I suppose I can do that. If it’s not a good fit, we can always try something else. I hear the food service wing has a variety of opportunities.”

Yes, Veronica thinks, because my perfect grades and area of interest just scream “food service”. But she’s getting a shot at what she wants, so she’s going to do her best to tolerate this prejudiced woman. “Um, thank you. I’ll see how the botany job goes first.”

“Wonderful,” the woman says, in a rehearsed, not-very-wonderful tone. “All of the information has been sent to your messages app. The position starts next week, but you’ll want to look over everything to make sure you’re prepared.”

***

The next day, Veronica has an appointment to meet her training supervisor and talk with him about the lab and the work they do there. When she arrives at the lab wing and wheels through the sliding doors, she is faced with a bored-looking receptionist who barely glances up from his screen. Once he sees her chair, he looks up again, muttering, “Can I help you with something? Are you lost?”

Lost, she inwardly huffs, desperately trying not to roll her eyes. Because they’re not used to seeing someone who looks like me around here. She takes a breath, then says, “Um, actually, I’m here to meet with Dr. Stonecroft about the trainee position. Veronica Lee? Meeting set for 10:30?”

The young man takes a moment to process this, then says, “Oh, right, I see it in here. I’ll send a message to Dr. Stonecroft that you’re here.”

As she waits, Veronica mentally steels herself for the argument she expects will come. She spent most of the night lying awake thinking of her rebuttals to various questions, and obsessing about it via messaging with her friend Lila until she fell asleep and stopped responding.

Veronica wanted this job so badly. She couldn’t imagine being stuck somewhere like food service her entire life, not when she had such an interest in science.

A door behind the receptionists’ desk slid open, and through it walked a short, brown-skinned man with round glasses and a lab coat. “You must be Veronica,” he said, greeting her with a smile and extending his hand down to shake hers. “Herman Stonecroft, glad to finally meet you. Please, come with me.”

She followed him eagerly, squeezing carefully through a narrow doorway that barely allowed room for her fingers to move the wheelchair without getting squished. When it widened into a hallway, Dr. Stonecroft slowed to walk by her side, guiding her first into the greenhouse.

It was one of the most beautiful places Veronica had ever seen. Most of the places on the ship were dull shades of gray, sparingly decorated because supplies had to be conserved. But this room was alive with color: Red tomatoes and berries hanging on vines, nearly ripe enough to pick; yellow peppers and another plant that Veronica couldn’t identify; and green, green everywhere, from the early sprouts in their hydroponic rows to the leaves of fruit trees and tall corn stalks.

“This is amazing,” Veronica said. “I’ve never seen so many plants in one place. And it smells so… fresh,” she added, trying out a word she hadn’t had much cause to use before. Little in life was fresh when you lived in space.

Dr. Stonecroft smiled. “I remember thinking that the first time I came here too. The greenhouse is lovely, of course, and very showy, but most of our work is done back in the labs. We’ll come to water the plants, but other workers harvest them. We spend most of our time managing disease and keeping our plants strong. Our effort is vital to maintain food supply.”

“Right, of course,” she replied, not discouraged. “It’s just a privilege to be able to see all of this. They let us each grow a bean plant in science class, and I thought that was cool.”

“I’ll show you to the labs now,” Dr. Stonecroft said, leading her through a large set of double doors at the back of the room. They led into a hallway with a few other doors, and she could see through the glass walls that each contained lab benches with microscopes and other instruments.

He scanned his badge at one of the doors, and it slid open to allow them through. Veronica noticed that all of the countertops were slightly above eye level for her; she couldn’t imagine getting her arms up there to work productively, let alone looking into a microscope that sat even higher. But Dr. Stonecroft didn’t seem to notice the disparity. He continued right on with his enthusiastic introduction as a few scientists turned from their work to stare at her.

“We start most of our interns out with basic microscopy - slide preparation, cell counting, studying images to learn signs of abnormal growth. You’ll help tend some of the plants as well. And of course you’d be led through this by another team member when I’m not available. You wouldn’t be expected to do anything on your own for some time - I know that the school’s science department was a bit lacking in resources.”

“That sounds great,” Veronica said. “I thought microscopy was really cool, but we only had two microscopes for the whole class to use, and they were pretty old. So I’ll be happy to learn as much as possible here.”

Dr. Stonecroft smiled. He was fairly soft spoken, and Veronica had decided already that she would enjoy learning from him - if this worked out. “I’m glad to hear that, Veronica,” he began. “I wish more students had your interest in this area. I’ve had several trainees think that they were here to water plans and pick fruit, and decided to quit when they learned it was much more.”

Veronica nodded. It seemed like this was a really promising opportunity. “Right. But, Dr. Stonecroft, we should probably talk about -- I mean, I’m sure you noticed. I’m in a wheelchair. I can’t exactly reach the lab countertops, or the ground-level planters. The lady at the career center mentioned that sometimes regulations don’t allow certain furniture, but--”

“Veronica,” he said, stopping her. “Let me tell you something. I have never turned an interested student away, and I don’t plan to now. I will saw the legs off of some lab benches myself if necessary.” He gave her a small but knowing smile. “As long as you like it here, we will be lucky to have you.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Veronica’s chest. Sure, she could still see a couple of the scientists side-eyeing her as they pretended to get on with their work. Sure, not everyone would be used to her at first. But her mentor was open-minded and friendly. And everyone else would get used to her and her chair, especially once she showed them the kind of work she could do.

She hadn’t met someone like Dr. Stonecroft in a long time - someone who just treated her like a person, instead of a person in a wheelchair. She felt pressure behind her eyes, excited and happy tears, and hurried to wipe one away before he could notice. “Thank you so much, Dr. Stonecroft. I’m so excited to start here.”

Dr. Stonecroft escorted her back to the entrance. “We will see you Monday, Veronica.”

Once the sliding door to the lab wing closed behind her, she let her smile break open wide and wheeled as fast as she could down the quiet hallways, barely able to contain herself. When she was finally home, the door closed behind her, she screeched with delight. “Yes! I did it!” she yelled to no one in particular. For once, she thought with a contented sigh, something finally worked out.

#my writing #writing #short story #disability #disability fiction #disability short story #disabled characters #disability story #wheelchair user characters #spoonie #spoonie fiction #spoonie writing

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nonsensicalobsessions · 5 years ago

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Lucky

When Tom stopped to reflect on his life, he was always keenly aware on how very blessed, how very lucky, he really was.

There were all the obvious reasons: Dumb, stupid, genetic chance gave him health, a level of physical attractiveness he did nothing to earn, a brain to give him a jump start for intelligence and an ability to learn. Affluent parents who could and did provide every advantage, such as a beautiful home in a safe neighborhood, as well as the opportunity to attend the most prestigious schools in the area, and then the world. Drawing breath in a place and period of time where clean water, relative peace, plentiful food, and quality medical care were all readily available to him (although those were also due to his parents, he was aware of as well).

But there were other things...meeting the right people, at the right time...the right roles...

Of course, not everything was luck. He didn’t discount his hard work. No one would argue he was one of the hardest working actors in the industry.

The one area where his luck soured was his love life. Friends he had in abundance, but between his intense desire for intimacy, rather than random, casual hookups, and for private, meaningful conversations as opposed to shop gossip and small talk, he found himself without a partner for months, even, God help him, years at a stretch. He was embarrassed to admit how lonely he found himself at times. He longed for what seemed like the most common thing in the world, love with someone who would see him as he was, not as how he was packaged and presented. At times, he wondered if he was simply fated to remain caught in a solitary existence.

And then, just like that, his luck changed, even as it preserved him once again.

Tom was driving home from holiday shopping. Carefully, as was his wont. As usual, it was raining and the traffic was as thick as could be expected for a Saturday leading up to Christmas. He was stopped at a traffic light, the second car in queue. He played with the music on his phone, until he found the song he was looking for, and smiled as he selected it.

https://open.spotify.com/track/2IuUMx3uxxJAHcH41aYtn0?si=j7EFmnjuSUqGpb_6LPIGBg

The light changed. The car in front of him paused for a moment, then proceeded to resume its route, and Tom did the same. He was humming “Winter Wonderland,” tapping lightly on the steering wheel, when something terrifying happened.

There was a loud screeching of tires, horns, the squeal of brakes, and in front of his horrified eyes the car in front of him was plowed into as another vehicle attempted to run the red. The culprit wasn’t even close to clearing the intersection in time.

If Tom had been the first car in the queue, he would have been struck, it was unavoidable.

With the slickness of the roads, there was quickly a massive chain reaction of collisions. It was only by very good fortune Tom escaped unscathed.

As soon as the screeches, the slams, the crunches, and the crashes stopped, Tom left his car and raced for the innocent’s vehicle. He had already dialed 999.

There had only been one person in the car, a female driver, as far as he could tell. All of her air bags had deployed, and she had been struck on the passenger side, which was the only saving grace in the situation. She was crumpled over the steering wheel, pinned between the slowly deflating air bags and what was left of the passenger side of her vehicle. It was quite the grisly scene, with shattered glass all about, horns blaring, and yet she made no sound. Tom frantically pulled the door, already fearing it to be futile as all car doors in his experience locked once the vehicles began moving.

To his utter shock, it opened. The car was an either older model than he anticipated, or else the locks malfunctioned.

He reached for her pulse in her neck and found it quickly enough, even as she was bleeding heavily from under her hair as well as from other cuts and abrasions. Soon she was moaning and beginning to stir.

“Steady,” Tom pleaded. “Don’t move. You’ve been in a crash, and an ambulance is coming. Can you tell me your name?”

“Maddie,” she whispered. “Madeleine Robillard...”

“Maddie, my name is Tom. Whom may I call for you?”

“No one,” she groaned.

Tom blinked, even as he could hear sirens growing louder. No one? That couldn’t be right, certainly there was a family member or a friend to be notified...

“No, there isn’t anyone, just me...” Maddie mumbled, and Tom realized he must have spoken aloud.

Maddie was fighting to keep her eyes open and focused. She looked around Tom’s age, but tiny to his eyes. “Tom...I can’t move, I’m stuck...” He could hear her voice becoming frightened.

“Maddie, don’t even try to move, you’re wedged in with your air bags and your seatbelt has you locked in tight and proper, just as it should. I am going to stay with you while you wait for help to arrive. You’re not alone, understand? I promise you.” He smiled at her, and stroked her cheek.

She blinked as a tear trickled down her cheek, obviously in a great deal of pain and disoriented. “I’m going to be late for work.”

“Maddie, I’m certain your employer will understand.”

“No...already so short staffed...” she was becoming agitated again.

“Hush, darling, hush...where do you work? Tell me, and I’ll ring them for you...”

Within what felt like a blink of an eye, there were ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks pulling in, even helicopters circling overhead looking for places to touch down. Tom could scarcely hear Maddie’s reply as she named a luxury hotel and spa not far from their location.

Tom dialed and asked for Madeleine Robillard’s supervisor, plugging his other ear with one finger as he did so, the ambient volume increasing every moment.

“This is Madame White, with whom am I speaking?” Tom flinched, the voice did not sound friendly, or helpful.

“Madame White, my name is Tom Hiddleston, and I am calling on behalf of Madeleine Robillard. I’m afraid she has been in a terrible car accident, and...”

“Young man, I don’t know what you think you are playing at, but I am far too busy to be playing games. Maddie is due to cross over the threshold of this facility in precisely thirteen minutes. If she does not do so in thirteen minutes and one second, why, she does not need trouble herself to do so in thirteen minutes and two.”

“I beg your pardon.” Tom’s voice was suddenly glacial, proper, and distinctive. “My name is...”

There was a loud sigh. “Spare me the impersonations. Her final check is in the mail.”

A click. A tone. And Tom was left staring at his phone in utter disbelief.

“And Happy Christmas, you utter...”

It was the first time he was told his impersonation of himself wasn’t convincing enough.

“...Mr. Hiddleston?!”

Tom found himself facing a completely shocked set of first responders.

“Hello, yes...this is Madeleine Robillard...”

And so, because of his good luck, Tom was spared a potentially devastating collision, and met Madeleine Robillard in the bargain.

Maddie knew it was pointless to grouse about luck, good, bad, or otherwise.

“It is, what it is,” she would shrug, and try to keep going as best she could.

Born on the wrong side of the blanket. The wrong side of the tracks. The wrong side of town.

She did the best she could, with what she had. Bounced from foster family to foster family, she learned quickly doors didn’t lock or latch even when they looked like they would, so it was best to wedge them tightly closed with blankets or books. If something looked like it was too good to be true, it never was. If someone gave you the creeps, it was for good reason. The best thing you could do was keep your nose clean and powder dry (but never use the stuff for the nose), keep your head down, do your best, and keep out of sight. Getting yourself noticed never ended well. Shoes don’t stretch, men don’t change, and in this life, you’re on your own.

She got through school well enough, then started working. She was a hard worker, and an unobtrusively clever one, because she didn’t want to be seen as clever. Being smart wasn’t something she saw rewarded. It was fine to be smart, and clever, but it was best to keep it to yourself.

She lived small. Saved her pounds. Lived quietly.

Sometimes she looked over the edges of bridges and wondered what kept her from sailing over the sides, what was it was all for, but kept going anyway. Low spirits did not stay with her long because she had curiosity to help keep her going. There was always another book to read, another idea she wanted to chase down in her head.

There were a few times she was loved and left.

She read at the library. She fully recognized novels as fairy tales for adults. She didn’t watch television or go to movies because couldn’t afford them. She stayed healthy enough because of the NHS. She listened to music on the radio. She was computer literate because of schooling and the library. She enjoyed sketching. Sometimes she would go to the library and watch videos on YouTube to improve her way around a pencil. She particularly liked sketching birds. To each their own.

She was kind, because it was how she wanted to be. She treated the people she worked with, worked for, and lived around, the way she wished to be treated, whether she was or not.

She was so proud when was able to buy her used car. Between her savings, her hard work ethic, and innate gentle nature, she was able to build up enough recommendations to get hired on at the spa at the grand new hotel as a receptionist. She was willing to take on as many hours, as many shifts, as possible. Madame White didn’t seem to like her very much, but there was no rule saying she had to. If the woman was spiteful, what of it? She juggled schedules, demanding clients, availability of staff with requested services, made certain all supplies were fully stocked, and more, all while answering the phone and greeting everyone with a smile.

And now, because of an entitled tit of a driver with a problem with the bottle, her car was gone, her job was gone, and soon her savings would be gone. Her health had certainly taken a hit.

But this Tom fellow was very kind, definitely handsome, and apparently a very big deal. For some reason, he was determined to stay with her. He stuck to her like a burr before the ambulance arrived, followed her to the A&E, sat with her throughout all the confusion and fuss there. He found her uncomplaining and patient. She found him gentle, and a surprisingly staunch advocate.

Even after her surgery, he would stop by and visit. He was surprised she had required the procedure, had undergone it without a word to himself or anyone, but then, how would she have contacted him? Why would she? By then even she knew what he was all about, at least in theory, and she was as confused as ever. The staff in the hospital was very quick to educate her about how very lucky she was, and how out of her league he was.

Every day, he came to see her, bringing her some small token, a gift to make her smile. One day it was several pairs of soft, thick socks when he saw she was still wearing the ones she had from the day of the accident, because her feet were cold. They felt like spun sunlight.

Another day, it was a collection of poems, after she had confessed her love of poetry rather than novels when she was tired or stressed, because “a gifted poet can say in just a few stanzas what a gifted novelist needs pages to accomplish...I don’t have the concentration to read pages and pages right now, but those few stanzas...they stay with me for hours.”

He presented the anthology to her only after making her promise she would not stay awake pondering. Maddie was laughing as she did, and Tom neatly plucked the volume from her hands.

“I am altogether serious,” he gravely informed her. “I can tell you are quite tired, and it is a known fact you heal while you sleep. I will not be responsible for impeding your recovery.”

She had to solemnly assure him she would not deliberately remain alert at night, pondering verses when she should be asleep. Looking at her with a serious face, Tom returned the book, and with a sober tone of voice, said, “I’m trusting you, Maddie.”

Maddie would sooner rob a church’s poor box than let Tom down. Not after he looked at her with such an intense expression, and used that tone of voice. She suspected he knew it, too.

But as much as the little presents were amazing, a novelty she couldn’t get over (certainly the first gifts she had received in a very long time), it was Tom’s presence she cherished more than anything he handed her in a gift bag or wrapped (albeit slightly clumsily) in cheerful paper. Although she lacked his level of formal education, and what she had received certainly wasn’t of the same caliber, Maddie was a keen scholar of human nature, as well of the school of hard knocks. She kept that alma mater to herself, but it made her observations on human nature very interesting to Tom, especially when it came paired with her intrinsic kindness and character. They spent hours talking about books they had read, Tom sharing stories about his childhood and amusing anecdotes about his day. Maddie did not have anything similar to reciprocate, so she would deflect and ask him a general question that would not be considered too personal. Listening to Tom share his reflections, being able to explore his thoughts, laughing with his quirky sense of humor...she had never enjoyed anyone’s company so much in her entire life. Just a few hours in the evenings were making such a huge impression on her.

But it couldn’t continue. Maddie lived in the real world, and although she enjoyed his visits immensely, she could also see where she was getting very attached to them, and him. With each successive call, it would be even more of a wrench when they stopped. It would be best to rip off the bandaid, as it were.

By December 23, enough was enough.

She was drifting in and out. Between pain medication and exhaustion from physical therapy, it was easier to sleep sometimes. Better. She didn’t want to think about how she was likely to lose her flat. She was unemployed (although on the dole, likely to receive compensation from the drunken ass responsible for this utter disaster, and possibly for wrongful termination).

“Depression” wasn’t a word in her lexicon. Again, she just took life as it came. If life sucked, well, it just sucked, and what else could you do about it? Right now, there wasn’t a lot she could change. She did as she was told. She ate as best she could, although she couldn’t stomach much. She worked as hard as she could to regain her strength, because it wasn’t as though there was anyone who was going to take care of her. When she was discharged, she would have to make sure she could shift for herself.

Sleep was an escape she had best take advantage of while she had the opportunity.

“Darling? Asleep already, are you so exhausted then? You’re doing too much!”

Ah. Well and good. She needed to take care of this, anyway.

She opened her eyes to see Tom, standing there smiling at her even as his voice sounded concerned. It would be a shame to send such a handsome man on his way, because God knows she’d never meet anyone so finely and perfectly created ever again. He was a walking ray of sunshine. Truly a good man.

She was going to miss him, with all of her heart.

“Tom.” She smiled as best she could, and tried to sit up.

“No, no, enough of that,” he scolded, and showed her the bed remote once more. “Why must you always try to do all the work when all you have to do is press a button?” He helped her raise the bed to ease her into a sitting position. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Are they talking about sending you home soon?”

She dropped her eyes, flushing a bit. “Soon,” she evaded. “It’s lovely of you to come and visit me Tom...soon you won’t have to be fussed with coming all this way...in fact, I am sure you must have so many things you could be doing instead. Loads of parties and get togethers, I keep telling you, please don’t feel obligated to keep coming here day after day.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “And I keep telling you I am doing nothing from obligation, and everything from pleasure. Why can’t you understand I wish to spend time with you? Unless...” his face changed expression, “you no longer wish for me to come visit you...?”

Maddie’s face morphed into complete shock.

“Nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s...I didn’t know before, you see. But they’ve told me, I get it now. Come, Tom, I know how the world works. It’s Christmas, on top of everything else. You should be with family, and your friends. You don’t have to...well...” Maddie’s face was a study in discomfort. “I am deeply appreciative. Truly, I don’t want you to think I am ungrateful. It’s because I am so aware of how busy you are and how precious your time is...You’ve been coming here, every single day, and each time, you have a little gift for me. I’ve never been treated such, in all my life. You don’t need to keep doing this. Thank you, Tom, but you can enjoy your holiday now, with a clear conscience. It’s quite all right. You don’t have to do this anymore.”

“Wait...just a moment. Who told you what, exactly? Has someone told you I visit you out of some misguided sense of pity? As a...visiting the sick charitable work? A Christmas giving back?” His face was livid. “Who is telling you these lies? Point me in the right direction...!”

Tom had just started to get a good rant going, but stopped the moment he saw tears shimmering on her lashes. “Oh, no. No, no, no...please, Maddie, don’t cry...it’s not true. I promise you, it’s nothing like that.” He quickly dropped the side rail to gather her carefully into his arms for the first time. Up until now, he had only ever held her hand.

“I didn’t know anything about you the first time I saw you,” Maddie wept. “I don’t go to movies, plays, or watch television. I just read. So everyone so quick to say how lucky I was...and how you were so...so...” Tom could not help but notice how she did not melt into his embrace, but rather had her arms wrapped around herself as best she could, before he even had the chance to try comforting her. He recognized it for what it was: the hallmark of someone who only had their own arms to hold them when things were bad. He softly rubbed her back.

“Maddie, what happened to you that day was the very opposite of luck,” Tom answered grimly. “And anyone who said otherwise is disgusting. I will go so far as to say you are lucky to be alive...lucky you weren’t injured more severely! But beyond that? How could anyone be so crass as to say you were lucky that day just...” he shook his head, appalled.

“If anyone was lucky was day, it was I. I wish I never had to meet you in such a fashion, but in a city of almost nine million people, it was my car you were in front of that day. I was the one that was able to hold your hand. I was the one who could brush the hair out of your eyes and wait with you...and now, I am the one who gets to visit you every day, and who hopes to bring you home before Christmas.”

“Bring me home?”

“Darling, I don’t want to discourage you, but you are going to need a lot of care when you are finally discharged...and well...I...I know this is terribly forward of me, seeing as we’ve only known each other a few weeks...but as you’ve mentioned you’re rather alone in the world, I was hoping you’d consider staying with me for awhile. Just until you’re back on your feet again,” he concluded in a rush.

Maddie looked at him, rather exasperated.

“You see? Tom, you cannot do this! You are...you! I am a barely educated, unemployed receptionist. An orphan. I have nothing. I am no one...Tom...what would your mother say?!”

Tom threw his head back and laughed, delighted as she sputtered with indignation.

“See, this is exactly why I can and will do this. Because you do care about what my mother will say...and Madeleine Robillard, I will have you know you are indeed someone. You are someone who reads poetry and thinks about it all day long, even as she goes though physical therapy to regain her strength after a horrible car accident...someone who can sit and debate with me how social media and texting has impacted people’s ability to actually speak to one another...”

“That was just my personal observation...” Maddie mumbled.

“Yes! You notice things no one else does, sweetheart. You pay attention in a world where everyone else is content to just sit back and wait for information to come to them...you observe. You are honest...when you met me, you had no idea who this lanky goofball was...”

“Not a lanky goofball...a thoughtful, considerate, very handsome man who paid more attention to my well-being than any other man ever has in my life,” Maddie corrected him, picking at one of her many healing abrasions.

Tom stopped her scratching without even looking. “As I said, so many people are just sitting back, passively waiting to be told what is important, what is attractive...and you are flying high and away over them, darling. The men of London must all be blind fools.” Slowly, he picked up her hand, and brought it to his lips. “I love listening to your thoughts. I wish you’d share more of yourself with me.”

“Tom...there’s not much to tell. I don’t have a gilded background, in fact, it’s fairly a grim story. I used to think if I had any luck at all, it was bad luck...but then, on the very worst day of my life...I met you. So, maybe, just maybe, my luck is turning? If you don’t mind coming to see me, or calling me, every now and again? Because I admit...I would miss you, if you were to just...stop.” Maddie looked down in embarrassment.

He guided her chin up so she could see the bright smile beaming from his face. “Madeleine, I think you can safely say both of our luck has turned for the better. I promise you, I have no intention of walking away from anyone that makes me smile the way you do.”

Maddie could not be discharged in time for Christmas. Tom was very disappointed when he learned this later that evening. When Maddie went for her PT on the 24th, he and a few of his friends quickly transformed her room from austere to festive by adding a small pre-lit tree and some decorations, including a stocking and setting up a speaker to play Christmas tunes. When she returned, she found the lights in her room dimmed, a Christmas tree twinkling, Tom dressed in a lovely sweater and sharply pressed pants, smiling at her...she couldn’t help the tears that leapt from her stunned, moved heart.

“Thomas...? You did all this...for me?” She knew the question was foolish, but she was so shocked, she couldn’t help it. Never had she had such an experience before. Never had anyone lifted so much as a finger to show her a perfunctory kindness, so the thought someone had planned, then executed this level of a Christmas surprise gift for her would have brought her to her knees if she wasn’t already in a wheelchair.

The orderly escorting her had already disappeared, undoubtedly to spread the word of the lovely moment that was going on in room 5139 B.

Tom approached her quickly, and crouched down. “Darling, you can get around without the chair, yes?”

“Yes, it’s just after PT my muscles are tired so...”

He simply extended his hand, and she took it, rising slowly, legs shaking like a newborn fawn. Carefully, he led her away from the wheelchair, and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve been longing to give you a hug since I first saw you. I hope you don’t mind my giving you this one now.”

The way Maddie was resting her head on his chest, he didn’t think she did. Her arms were around his waistline, making it natural for Tom to gently hold her figure to him and rest his cheek lightly on the top of her head. “You are very precious to me, Maddie Robillard. I think you are a breathtaking, remarkable, intuitive, beautiful soul residing in this delightful body that needs to be cherished and allowed to heal. Please let me be a part of that.”

She didn’t answer, just took a deep breath, and remained in his arms.

“That’s not a no...” he teased.

https://open.spotify.com/track/7aEjsTKJKspp01vkeVgeRr?si=r4xZlBPyS7iwgJmiMWZ-ww

Christmas music continued to play in the background. “Christmas Time is Here” from the Charlie Brown television show began to play, and they both began to giggle, which morphed into full blown laughter. Tom guided Maddie into a very careful dance, mindful of her condition.

“‘You know, Santa Claus and ho-ho-ho, and mistletoe and presents to pretty girls...’” Tom mimicked perfectly, waggling his eyebrows. Maddie rolled her eyes indulgently.

“Good grief,” she responded drily, even as her eyes twinkled. She couldn’t help it.

Tom helped Maddie back to her bed as he could tell she was at the end of her physical strength. He then produced his next treat, his computer loaded with every Christmas movie he could think of he thought she might enjoy, beginning with the oldest made for television cartoon specials to recent movie releases. There were bags of microwave popcorn, and hot chocolate. Maddie was reduced to just shaking her head in disbelief.

She was beginning to feel overwhelmed. It was too much, and she didn’t know how to process it all. Not only was this already the best Christmas she already had, but she didn’t even have a gift for the too-good-to-be-true man sitting next to her. In her life, too-good-to-be-true never was, but every one of her hard earned instincts promised he was sincere. Maddie had spent her entire adult life taking things as they came, but Tom was giving her a surfeit of riches. Too much attention. Too much affection. Too much presence...and dear God, her hormones were certainly reaching an all-time high.

He noted how she was not relaxed, nor was she reaching for the popcorn offered. “Maddie? Are you okay? You’re just sitting there...are you hurting, is something wrong, should I get a nurse...” She was taking shallow breaths as she looked at her hands, clenched in fists as her thumbs kept rubbing her index fingers.

“Please...I just need a moment,” she managed.

He was beginning to get worried. “A moment...help me, Madeleine, I don’t know what that means...I’m getting a nurse.”

Before she could object, he was gone.

Maddie’s fortunes were changing for the better, because she was attended by one of the older staff that was neither desirous of Tom’s attentions nor starstruck. “Well, Robillard, what’s going on that’s got that handsome man in a dither...and oh, you’re not looking so well...” Nurse Sarah Howard went to get her equipment, and suggested Tom give them some time alone.

After a exam and a gentle heart-to-heart, the nurse left her charge in search of a few medications, and certain gentleman who needed to be enlightened on a few things.

Sarah found Tom pacing anxiously in a quiet area of the halls. “Tom? May I speak with you for a moment?”

He responded with the speed he was known for, and that was part of the problem she thought wryly. “Is Maddie all right? Did I do something wrong? Is she overtired? I didn’t think I kept her on her feet for too long but in retrospect...”

Sarah sighed and led him into an unoccupied patient room, then pointed to a chair. “Sit.”

He obeyed as quickly as a well trained hunting dog...or then again, a child brought up run by a religious order, as she had been, she though with a inward smile. “Tom, she is going to be just fine, but you need to understand a few things about Madeleine.”

“Yes, of course,” he swiftly agreed.

“That. That right there,” she pointed at him again.

“What?” He looked around him, puzzled.

“You move very quickly. Right now she needs a little more patience. In a lot of things. You are a very intense man, and I have no doubt when she is back to her prime she is going to keep pace with or even outrun you more like. Women often do,” she sniffed. “But she is tired, in pain, and healing. But more important, you are a bit like a tsunami. Madeline has never had anyone like you in her life. She is used to being marginalized. Ignored. Even exploited. You have showered her with more good things in the past two hours than she has experienced in the last two years...longer. When she add up her physical exhaustion with all that...she is overloaded.”

He bristled at her faintly reproving tone. “All the more reason she deserves to be surrounded by everything she has missed in her life. It’s Christmas Eve. She’s in hospital. I want to give her some Christmas magic...”

“Yes. You want to give her these things. How about you stop for a moment and think about what she would like to receive?” Sarah’s face was undeniably stern.

Tom wilted, his righteous indignation fading. “Should I just go home then? Does she need some space?”

Sarah took a breath, God grant me patience. “Tom, if you left now I think it would break her heart in a way she might never recover...I am just suggesting you stop plying her with everything at once. i know it is Christmas Eve and you want to play Father Christmas...” she trailed off as Tom visibly flinched and he surreptitiously glanced at the clock on the wall. “What. What is...oh, no. No. Tom, you didn’t...He’s not...”

“Well, not now,” he petulantly answered. “It’s nowhere near midnight yet.”

“Thomas Hiddleston, do you mean to tell me that you have arranged for Father Christmas to come to my ward tonight?”

He squirmed. “I...I know people, all right?! And she told me a few days ago Santa Claus never came for her before...”

“And did you ever once think of what kind of commotion and disruption such a visit might cause?”

Tom made a dismissive motion with his hand and head. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that...it’s covered. No one will be the wiser.”

Sarah put her hand on her stomach. “You are not helping your case.”

Completely unrepentant, Tom asked if Maddie was feeing better. Sarah sighed. “Yes. I gave her something for pain, because she worked very hard at her PT today, she is pushing herself...and then she was overwhelmed, as I said. Go easy on the girl, Hiddleston. And by the way, you are way too tall to be an elf!”

Tom replied with a wide grin. “Does somebody need a hug?”

Maddie was resting on her side, facing the door. She was feeling a little floaty in the head, because of the shot Sarah had just dumped in her hip, but also because of what Sarah had just given her to think about—that Tom liked her, and was, in many ways, just an enthusiastic spirit who wanted to deluge her with everything all at once, simply because he could. If she felt it was too much, she needed to grab her big girl panties and say so. Otherwise, he would never know and continue to shower her with everything as he wished until she was either drowning or waterlogged.

And if she didn’t know how to swim...he needed to know this too. Immediately. Or else he might think she didn’t want to swim, not that she didn’t know how.

Tom poked his head in to find her eyes searching for his.

“No, Maddie, don’t get up.” He reached her side in three quick strides. “I am sorry. I forget how sometimes I am...well...a bit of a whirlwind. In fact, it’s gotten me in trouble in relationships before. You’d think I’d learn, but...” He looked away, unwilling to meet her face, as he reflected on past affairs of the heart that turned into wounds. He so desperately wanted to build a solid foundation in the short periods of time he had available that he threw himself into it with all the fire and energy he did his roles...and yet, that never worked. Too much. Too fast. And then he disappeared, as he must, leaving his other half gasping, then resentful.

She reached out for him. “Tom, I’d like to see you more as a cloud bringing rain to a desert...I would so love to be able to grow some flowers...but too much rain at once is just going to cause a bit of a mess, yeah?” Her voice was sleepy, but affectionate. “What time is it? It must be getting late. You need to be in bed or else Santa won’t come...”

“Ah, but it’s never specified whose bed I have to be in...” Again, he waggled his eyebrows roguishly.

“You’re so silly. Aren’t you going to spend Christmas with your family? Seriously, Tom, I don’t wish to get in the way of that.” But as she spoke, Tom noticed she was holding his hand just as securely as ever.

“I told my family I was spending Christmas with you. I told them that awhile ago,” he confessed without shame. “It’s not as late as you think. Would you like to see a movie? Or are you tired, and wish to give it up and call it a night?”

He knew he wasn’t playing fair when he worded it thus. Maddie blinked her eyes deliberately, and he could just see her shaking off mental cobwebs.

“Tom, I would love to watch a movie with you...would you pick your favorite?”

He all but bounced and vibrated as he queued up Elf.

As the end credits rolled, Tom cast a surreptitious look at Maddie. She had been laughing delightedly at the comedy, but he could see that she was disturbed by the aspect of Buddy being the misplaced orphan, and he was kicking himself about it. How stupid and short sighted he had been...Halfway through, Sarah had come in, given Maddie her nightly medications, and sighed that they were going to make her droopy, but it couldn’t be helped, as she looked at Tom significantly.

Now, Tom was sitting next to Maddie on her narrow bed, and she was curled up next him, her head pillowed on his propped up shoulder. When Sarah had spied this, she had rolled her expressive brown eyes again, and brought a cushion for her head. “Bag of bones that man is,” she muttered. Can’t see where you’ll be comfortable otherwise. You’re welcome.”

Mmm, wouldn’t hurt to close my eyes for just a little moment...

https://open.spotify.com/track/7y2CBABAGfYVvCOvZDc01H?si=MCb3zvZfSz-82YyXq_Z9Qw

Bells.

Why on earth was she hearing...bells?

Maddie could feel that she was sleeping in a very, very unusual position.

For one thing...she was in a man’s arms.

As she began to pull her fragmented wits together, she realized she and Tom must have fallen asleep watching another movie, because her head was still on his shoulder, and his arms were still very much around her, keeping her pressed up against him as he slept, taking in slow, even breaths.

Oh, the dear, ridiculous, foolish man...on Christmas Eve, no less...now to wake him and send him home in the middle of the night? How to do this...and why are there such loud bells in the movie...?

She opened her eyes and tried to move slowly, not to startle Tom. No one liked to be suddenly awakened when in a strange place...

And what to her wondering eyes should appear...

There was...a strange man in her room...fiddling with the stocking...dressed in a...red suit...

“Excuse me,” Maddie called out quietly, “But, um...may I help you?”

“Ho, ho, ho...Maddie, girl. You should still be asleep.”

The figure turned around, revealing the face of a veritable Santa Claus.

“Oh, come on,” Maddie coughed. “I didn’t get those kind of drugs. I know I didn’t.”

“Ah, Madeleine Robillard. I have been looking for you a very, very long time. I don’t know why it was so hard to find you, but...” Santa spread his hands wide in a display of helplessness. “Sometimes, things don’t go as they should.”

“Ah...yeahhhh...Listen, uh...I appreciate this, ‘Santa,’ but whatever you are up to, whoever you are, there are tons more people more deserving of whatever you are putting in my stocking than I am, on this very floor, I am willing to bet...so if you would be so kind, would you give them my share? I would consider it my Christmas gift. Truly, I would.”

“Maddie. You’ve been a very, very good girl. All year. In fact, all your life...for all that you are looking at me like I am some fellow off the street corner in a suit rented by the hour. But I understand, of course you don’t believe in me. How could you? I’ve done nothing but let you down. But that stops now.”

Santa’s voice was rich, like Tom’s...like melted chocolate, but firm. Like a real father’s might be, she thought wistfully. If any of this was real. Which it most decidedly was not.

Tom stirred. “Maddie.” His voice was thick with sleep, but content, and his embrace tightened as she wriggled away from him.

“Tom, you should wake. For one, you cannot be comfortable. You should be home. For another, we have a visitor, and I have no doubt it is no surprise.”

Tom’s eyes flew open. “Maddie, what...?”

“Happy Christmas, Thomas.”

Father Christmas, or Santa, was rather wry as he addressed the lanky man as he struggled to sit up without jostling Madeleine.

“Uhm...Happy Christmas, sir.” Tom looked at the clock on the wall. “You’re...early?”

“You dare put me on a time schedule, Thomas?”

“No sir, I, um...”

“Tom, honestly. As if you haven’t orchestrated this entire encounter...”

“Maddie...”

“Oh, Madeleine. The term is ‘Doubting Thomas,’ not ‘Doubting Madeleine,’ but once again, I understand.” Santa approached. “Give my beard a good tug. Go on. Or better yet...” With a small wince, he plucked a hair from his flowing white beard, then his head. “Real hair. Not nylon.” He then patted his hand firmly on his rounded abdomen. “That’s all Mrs. Claus’ most excellent cooking, dear one. No stuffing here, unless it has cranberry and walnuts in it, ho ho ho...”

Almost instinctively, Maddie’s forehead wrinkled. “But that’s not healthy. Your joints won’t thank you for it, you know.” She stopped, horrified when she realized she had spoken aloud. “Oh, God...I’m...so sorry, that was so rude, please forgive me, I meant no offense, truly I didn’t—“

Her stammering apology was drowned out by the man’s loud, ringing laughter. “Oh ho, ho, Maddie-girl. Think nothing of it. I know it came from a place of care and love.”

Meanwhile, Tom’s mouth was hanging somewhat open, as he was looking blankly at the clock. And shaking his head, all but counting on his fingers.

“Trouble, Thomas?”

“No, sir.”

“Would you say you have been a good man this year?”

Tom found himself pinned by a pair of bright blue eyes that outstared his own.

“Well, I...”

“Yes, he has.”

Maddie’s voice was resolute.

Both turned to look at her, surprised.

“Maddie, you’ve only known him for a few days of the 365. Perhaps there have been times he was impatient. Arrogant. Perhaps there were opportunities that he let his pride or selfishness get in the way where kindness would have better served the situation, or those around him.”

“Perhaps he is only human. Perhaps I have done the same.”

“Perhaps he has had many more opportunities to do good than you have, and let them slip through his fingers. Perhaps you have done so much more with what you have,” Santa volleyed back sternly, looking back at Tom.

“Perhaps he is right here,” Tom grumbled.

“I cannot argue with you, I am sure,” Maddie deferred to the older gentleman, falling back on her time-old defense of hiding in plain sight rather than begin a quarrel that she was sure not to win in the long run, even if she did in the here and now. “However, in all good conscience if Tom is found to be lacking in character and integrity in your eyes, I do not wish to receive anything you would give me. I cannot speak plainer. I have never given so much to a perfect stranger like he has. I do not speak of gifts. I speak of self. I’ve...” her voice became strained, and Tom promptly reached for her hand, “I can’t remember anyone ever being so kind, being such a friend...and when I needed one the most. Was it luck? fate? that he was behind me? I don’t know, but I’m grateful for it, because nothing so good has ever happened to me before, for all that I’m so banged up, and I don’t have a job, and my car is totaled, and oh my God, I’m going to lose my flat...” Maddie’s voice broke.

Tom now had his arms wrapped around her. “I promise to take care you, Madeleine,” he vowed fiercely. “I know you won’t let me carry you, your pride would beat me like a club...but I won’t let you go under. I’ll help you find a job on your own merits. And I will make sure you heal like you need to...and by God you’ll get compensation for what the drunken sot did to you. I swear it.”

Now it was Maddie’s eyes that were pinning him. “Truly, Tom? You won’t treat me as a charity case and keep giving me things? It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything, I do, but I have to do things on my own. I can’t face myself otherwise.”

Santa nodded approvingly.

“Good man, Tom. Good man.” Then he looked at the clock. “Goodness. Time does have a way of going on though, doesn’t it? Perhaps the two of you should both be going back to sleep. Maddie. Forgive an old man for losing his way. I hope to have made up for it. Happy Christmas. And Thomas? Keep up the good work...and let bygones be bygones, boy. Let old hurts go. Carrying them around isn’t armor, a shield, or even a wall. It’s just dead weight. Remember that. And sometimes...what looks like the worst luck in your life turns out to be the biggest blessing you can ever imagine.” He nodded almost imperceptibly at Maddie, who was clearly beginning to become limp in his arms as she fought sleep, unsuccessfully. “Rest well, Madeleine Robillard. I will be keeping a special eye on you now that I’ve found you...and catch up on sleep yourself, Thomas Hiddleston. You’re going to have a busy year, methinks.” He gave them both a tender smile, as he could see Tom also struggling against encroaching slumber.

A soft sound of bells lulled them gently into pleasant dreams.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night.

#tom hiddleston #lucky #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston oc #tom hiddleston Christmas #look christine i did a thing #Nonsensical Writes

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sablelab · 5 years ago

Text

Covert Operations - Chapter 86

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

THANK YOU all so much for reading my story after my 5-week hiatus. I was thrilled to know that you were waiting for its return and I really appreciated your kind messages to me. Your feedback about the chapter raised some questions that will be answered in forthcoming chapters. Thank you so much.

SYNOPSIS: James Fraser tracks down William Ransom to a secret location in the woods. He also finds his accomplice Steven Bonnet there and wrecks some havoc on the two university students. Steven Bonnet is recalcitrant, but with Jamie’s frightening methods and intimidating persuasion, he finds out where his Claire can be found.

Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

N.B. This chapter contains some violence

CHAPTER 86 (V)

Hurriedly leaving the University grounds, Jamie steered the SUV back onto Route 1 and headed towards Lion Rock Tunnel for the new address the university supervisor had given him was located in the New Territories. The address was for a cabin situated in the woods which belonged to the family of his friend Steven Bonnet; therefore, it was probable that this man was the accomplice in Claire's kidnapping. Clearly William Ransom and this Steven Bonnet had decided to lay low away from Hong Kong in the scenic hillsides and forestry plantations of Lion Rock Country Park in the Mong Fu Shek area. It was much easier for two men to disappear in this wooded, isolated area for a while rather than in the city itself where it was possible someone would know of their movements. Jamie knew that if both men were at the location then he would have a good chance of getting the Intel he needed as to Claire’s whereabouts.

Driving through the forested area he continued on for some miles until coming to an intersection which looked like two logging roads. He stopped and checked his map as to the most probable road to take where a cabin may be located, before turning the SUV down the dirt road that led towards a river. As luck would have it, it was the right decision. When he saw a cabin in the distance, Jamie killed the engine and cruised along the winding track before parking the car a discreet distance away from the cabin under the cover of foliage. Soundlessly, he got out of the vehicle so as not to alert anyone of his presence, then made his way nearer to the cabin. Hiding in the bushes, he observed the surrounding perimeter looking for any sign of life and in particular the two men who he was looking for.

Creeping closer he could see that the cabin was indeed occupied, as smoke was filtering from the chimney. There was also a 4-wheel drive parked out the front and music was blaring from a stereo system that was at odds with the tranquillity of the locale. On high alert in case someone appeared, Jamie carefully looked around checking for anomalies but the perimeter was clear. There was no sign that William Ransom was anywhere else but inside the house. However, just as he was about to creep even further closer to the cabin, he heard the sound of a car engine. Immediately he stepped back under the cover of the undergrowth while he surveyed the area yet again particularly the route of the sound. Suddenly from the opposite direction, an all-terrain vehicle appeared at one end of another road leading to the cabin. The driver had his foot to the floor, skylarking and doing burnouts along the track. As the person driving neared the cabin, the tyres skidded in the dirt when the jeep came to a sudden halt stopping in a cloud of dust.

Jamie watched to see what would happen next.

A young man got out of the vehicle calling to the occupant of the cabin as he ran up the stairs yelling to be heard over the music. "Hey Will ... You in there?" When there was no immediate answer, he called out again, this time pounding on the door to make himself heard. "Ransom! Open up ... it's me!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The music died down and another man, obviously William Ransom, came to the door, opened it and stepped outside. Jamie had a good view of the two assailants as they stood on the porch talking. He observed their interactions and body language to see if there were any weakness he could exploit. "Hey man ... how come you're so late?” William asked with some concern in his greeting. “Did you get all the supplies we need?" "Yeah ... I've got enough to last us a couple of weeks." "That's good ... Did you remember my cigarettes?"

"Yeah ... here you go," Steven Bonnet replied tossing the packet to his friend.

William Ransom took one out of the packet and lit up, inhaled deeply as if savouring an elixir then tensely exhaled the smoke into the air. He took a few quick puffs before throwing the lit cigarette onto the ground and crushing it with the sole of his foot. It appeared to Jamie that he was a little nervous and knew that this lad was vulnerable and uneasy. The question was why? Was he afraid of his friend or was it some other deep-seated factor? Like what role did he play in Claire’s kidnapping? Jamie was interested to hear more of their interactions, hoping that it could reveal more information as to who else may be involved in Claire’s disappearance other than these two males. "Anything happen while I was away?" Steven asked as his buddy followed him to his car to collect the supplies. "Wang Yu called," William stated matter-of-factually as he began to unload the supplies from the jeep. Steven stopped what he was doing and looked at his friend with a perplexed look on his face. "Oh?" "He wants you to call him ASAP." “I wonder what he wants?” Steven Bonnet speculated as he flipped open his cell phone and dialled his number. As he waited for a connection, he turned to his buddy asking, "Did he say anything to you?" "No." Loaded up with supplies William Ransom went back into the house while Bonnet waited for Wang Yu to answer his call signalling that he'd be back for more goods once he'd put these away. Finally, a connection was made and he replied to the caller, "Hello ..." "Ah, Steven ... I have a question of you." Wang Yu stated without preamble. "Sure ... fire away," was his cocky answer. "Tell me ... the gun you had in your possession. Was it yours?" "Well ... I had two guns... which one are you referring to?" "The revolver with the distinctive markings on it." "Oh ... that one." "Yes ... Where did you get it from?" "I picked it up when that broad dropped it at the apartment block." "So, it's hers then?"

"Yep ... why?"

"That's not important, but thank you for the information,” he stated cutting off any further discussion as to why he required this info. Then to stop Bonnet from any other questions put forward a proposition to him. “Now I also have a favour to ask of you." Steven’s ears pricked up at this request. He looked around to see if William was returning and when he failed to see his friend replied, "Really? ... Just me?" "Yes ... after your performance with our prisoner ... I think you are the right person for this job." With an inflated sense of importance that he’d been singled out, Steven Bonnet replied. "Thank you ... what do you want me to do Mr Yu?" "Someone has been making inquiries about the Rising Dragons in New Kowloon and on Hong Kong Island. I need you to take care of them. I need you to intimidate them by any means necessary … but the end result will be their elimination. Can you do that?" "Of course, ... I'm your man ... I'm listening ...." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

William Ransom returned just as Steven was disconnecting the call. Bonnet had an enigmatic smirk on his face and William looked at his partner wanting to know what Wang Yu had wanted. When Steven gave nothing away with his gaze, he asked, "Has there been a last-minute change of plans?" "No ... he wanted to know about the woman's gun,” then reluctantly added, “… and he offered me another job." "What job?" "A hit in New Kowloon or one on Hong Kong Island." "And what did you say?" He asked wary of what Steven Bonnet had got them into again after the success of the kidnapping of Claire Beauchamp. "I said I'd take the one in New Kowloon." "Why?" "Because it pays more and is consistent with our cover story and besides it's close by." "Ah, I see ... Did he say anything about me?" "No ... I think he sensed that you were lacking in ruthlessness for a hit." William was relieved to hear that it was only Steven that was required to do this job for the Rising Dragons and breathed a sigh of relief. Kidnapping Claire Beauchamp had affected him more that he realised. "He's right ... I don't think I'm cut out for this ... not like you Steven." "Why not?" "It didn't seem right kidnapping that woman ... and then when I shot her ... that was a mistake." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

From his concealed vantage point, James Fraser heard every word of their conversation and his ears pricked up when he heard Ransom say this. He was immediately shaken to the core and enraged beyond belief at this piece of information. It was inconceivable to think that his Claire had been the victim of a shooting on top of having been kidnapped. Jamie closed his eyes as the despair of the worst-case scenario coursed through his mind.

No! His Claire had been shot! ... Was she already dead?

These thoughts were followed by the feelings of revenge and vengeance towards her perpetrator and he vowed that he would kill William Ransom with his bare hands.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

However, just as he was about to move forward, William added, "Thank goodness it was only a flesh wound."

"She'll be fine ... anyway it's not our worry ... we did our job and were told to lay low and that's what we're doing." Steven Bonnet answered dismissively.

"Yeah, but I can't help thinking about what we did ... what you did." Steven looked at William perplexed as to what he was alluding to. "What I did?" he asked mystified. In return he side eyed his buddy. "You roughed her up a lot Steven ... that wasn't necessary." "Well it worked didn't it? And now Wang Yu wants me to take care of some business for the triad." "Are you sure you want to do this?" "Yeah ... It's not as if we're real members of the Rising Dragons yet." "I beg to differ ... I think this is their way of ensuring that they have us where they want us. Because of the kidnapping and now this hit, we've got ourselves in too deep to get out of the triad now. You know how ruthless they can be and if they think we'll talk, then our lives won't be worth living. I'm a bit concerned actually." "Ah ... It's all in your mind Will ... we're in and that's it ... Think of it as an adventure." "I think it will be our death sentence." He replied with a sense of doom to his voice. Steven Bonnet just laughed at his trepidation. "I'll look after you my friend ... you think too much. It will be fine. No one knows we're here except Wang Yu." "I hope you're right," William answered forlornly. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jamie continued to listen to their conversation and the more he heard the more his anger intensified. Ransom’s partner, Steven Bonnet appeared to be more ruthless, gung-ho and callus of the two, and he too would suffer retaliation for what he had done to his Sassenach. Both men would feel the full force of Section One’s cold-blooded killer’s wrath for touching just one single hair on Claire’s head. At first the two men seemed to be polar opposites and Jamie was convinced that Ransom was the weaker of the two, but perhaps he’d been wrong in his assessment of the young man. Perhaps this William Ransom had some remorse after all for what he’d done.

However, there was one thing Jamie was certain of. Ransom and Bonnet’s words would come back to haunt them once they knew who they were up against. If William was worried about the triad then he had nothing to fear but once he met James Fraser his nightmares would only just be beginning. As for Bonnet thinking this was an adventure, he would rue the day he made that mistake, for he would show no mercy to either man for what they had done.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Suddenly Steven stopped talking and twisted his head around when he heard a rustling in the bushes behind him. Spooked, he quickly turned in the direction of the noise and fired his gun ... scaring a flock of birds into the air.

"What was that?" William asked with a tremor in his voice. "Nothing ... Just some birds. Your words were making me paranoid. I thought I heard something." "I guess we're both a little jumpy." Picking up a carton of beer from the back seat of the jeep, Steven placed his arm around his friend’s shoulder. "Come on Ransom let's go and have a beer to celebrate our initiation into the Rising Dragons and toast our success in the kidnapping." "Okay," he replied feeling better after hearing his confident reply. "We're going to have a long stay in the woods because we like the isolation hey Will?"

"Yeah ... we do," he laughed in reply as they both headed inside the cabin to crack open a couple of beers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The two young men walked away oblivious to the real danger that lay in wait just meters away.

Jamie had heard enough. It was time for reprisal for these two assailants and in particular Steven Bonnet who had dared to roughen up and manhandle his Claire. William Ransom too had injured her and for that he also would pay. Any man who laid a finger on his Sassenach would be the recipient of his wrath and these two men would both wish they were dead for hurting Claire.

Their worst nightmare awaited them. An adversary like no other watched and waited until Steven Bonnet and William Ransom had entered the cabin before he made his move.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Returning to the SUV, James Fraser opened the bag that Walter had given him. Inside there was a mini compact missile made to make an impact but not too high on the destruction level. The missile would detonate but cause minimal damage but enough to force the two men out into the open when caught unawares. Jamie quickly took it out,

set up the small projectile on a launcher, aimed it at the cabin and readied it for launch. Keying in a sequence of numbers, the missile automatically lit up and finally burst free on its trajectory. Once the rocket was launched, Jamie watched it silently advance through the trees to its target.

The sound of an explosion as the projectile detonated reverberated in the stillness while the sound of shocked voices could be heard coming from inside the cabin.

Scrutinizing the area, Jamie leaned against a tree as he took cover with his gun at the ready, watching for the two kidnappers to come out of the cabin. As he waited, he studied the area while his Section instincts alerted him to a possible problem. Everything seemed a little too quiet. The voices inside the cabin had ceased and William Ransom and Steven Bonnet had not yet emerged. However, the cabin door eventually flew open and they soon came rushing out onto the porch in a state of shock but still brandishing weapons at the ready. As they appeared Jamie aimed his gun, firing a shot over their heads. The two men ran from the cabin and ducked behind the cover of William's 4-wheel drive hiding behind the vehicle to get out of the open where they were vulnerable from an unknown foe. Bonnet took aim too firing his pistol in the direction of the gunfire. However, there was no sign of Jamie as he had moved to another position where he watched as the two young men came to grips with the fact that they were not alone. William Ransom began to panic and made to get up to run into the woods but Steven grasped him by his jumper and held him back. Grabbing him, he placed a hand over the terrified man's mouth, quieting him. "Shhh. Will ... listen to me. We don't have very much time. I'm going to need your help. We need to get out of here." Realizing that Steven was trying to help him overcome his fear, he immediately calmed down. "But how?" he answered nervously looking around for the assassin. "We'll make a dash for my jeep and make our getaway." He pointed to where he had parked his vehicle a short dash away from the safety of the car they were crouching behind. "Are you sure that will work? What if he fires again?" "You go first then and I'll cover you ... Start up the jeep and I'll catch up. Okay?" "O-kay," he worriedly replied. Jamie quietly observed everything that was happening, then slipped out of sight to a better vantage point firing another round of bullets towards the two men. He watched as one man, then the other ran in the direction of the other vehicle. He moved into position letting both men get in the vehicle as William Ransom revved up the motor and backed the jeep back onto the dirt road. However, just as they were about to speed off down the road, they saw a man dressed in black step out on to the track ahead of them. William immediately accelerated hard and tried to run him down, but before he could hit him, Jamie shot out the front left tyre. The jeep careened off the road as the driver lost control and tried to steady the jeep without success before it crashed into a tree. The impact stalled the car and the jeep was now firmly lodged against the tree trunk. Panicking, William tried to restart the engine, but it wouldn't turn over. Steam began to pour out of the broken radiator under the bonnet. He revved the engine but merely flooded the carburettor while the tyres spun above the ground. Calmly closing in on the crashed vehicle, James Fraser aimed his gun at the two of them. "Get out of the car!" He ordered in an ominous tone. Steven Bonnet and William Ransom both looked at the menacing man who had a weapon pointed at them and nervously got out of the jeep. Jamie immediately aimed his gun again but as Steven moved over closer to William's side, he suddenly grabbed him as a hostage holding his gun up to his head. With the jeep to protect his back and using his friend as a human shield he threatened, "Drop the gun! ... Drop it! ... Drop it, man! I'll kill him ... if you don't let me go." "Kill him. I dinna bargain," was the steely reply. Taken a back Steven asked, "Who are you?" Jamie fired a shot over his head before Bonnet knew what was happening with his ominous words, "Yer worst nightmare." This action caught him unawares. They both ducked. Frightened, William thought that if Steven became irrational and fired back, he could be in the firing line. They stood at an impasse for a minute. Scrutinizing the man in black, Bonnet soon realised he could not underestimate him. The man had fired a rocket launcher at the cabin which had narrowly missed the two of them before detonating. More than likely he had other weapons too. Weighing up his options he finally held his gun out with his fingers and dropped it on the ground realizing the only way to kill this mystery man would endanger his friend.

William Ransom closed his eyes in relief.

With his gun still drawn, Jamie approached the two men and placed his gun to Steven Bonnet's head. "Yer going to tell me where Claire Beauchamp is."

"Who?" He replied foxing in his reply. "The woman ye kidnapped ... the one ye roughed up. Where is she?" "Don't know ... don't care."

"There are ways to make ye talk." At that, the gun was moved from Steven's head. Cold, emotionless, blue eyes looked him in the eye as James Fraser proceeded to calmly shoot him in the foot.

A large gasp erupted from Bonnet’s lips as the unexpected bullet pierced his foot. He flinched in pain but he answered Jamie with bravado. "I haven't seen her for a while."

"Well then, neither have I. That's ... the problem."

James Fraser was menacing in his perusal of the target who watched his assailant still recoiling in the pain of the first bullet. This man was far too hard to read and Steven was flummoxed as to what he might do next. With steely eyes and gritted teeth, he watched as this menacing man calculatingly moved the gun and took aim at his knee.

Toying with him like a cat with a mouse, Jamie announced, "Now ... I can work my way up until ye feel that ye wish to cooperate with me."

Steven Bonnet’s eyes widened in dread at his words before he closed them expecting one more bullet to his knee. Another shot rang out. He grabbed his knee but Jamie had merely taunted with him this time. Bending over in pain, he intonated, "Go to hell!"

Ignoring his retort, Jamie nonchalantly did shoot him in the knee before turning to look at William Ransom, giving him an intimidating look.

"Ye shot Claire ... Where is she?"

Realising that this imposing man was extremely threatening he swallowed before answering his words rushing out in bumbled urgency, "It ... it was an accident man ... I didn't mean to do it."

Without warning Jamie took retribution. Unsympathetically and with a cold look in his eye, he shot William in the leg. He screamed loudly and crouched down clutching at his leg which was bleeding profusely while cowering in fright. Coming up to stand over the two quivering men Jamie stated menacingly. "I can do this two ways ... kill ye first or kill ye later ... Either way ye'll be dead. I will find out ... now where is Claire Beauchamp being held?" "Steven, just tell him what he wants to know." William pleaded with him as the pain intensified where the bullet had lodged in his flesh. "Why should I?" Was his belligerent reply. Realising that his friend was not going to reveal the information this man wanted, he would instead if it would save his life. "She's ..." Even though Jamie still had his gun trained on him, Steven Bonnet censured his friend. "Shut up William ... he's only messing with our minds." Then, with bravado he turned to Jamie, "Like we care about any of this." "I'm sorry, are ye bored?" he replied disdainfully, the cold chill of his voice piercing through their brain with intent. Yet Bonnet refused to cower in the face of adversary and stood his ground. "Yeah. We've already told you we don't know anything." Suddenly Jamie's hand whipped out and he snapped him in the throat. Caught off guard Steven doubled over gasping and choking on his own bile. His throat was constricted and the pain was horrendous. Struggling for breath, he could barely breathe as he tried to gasp air back into his lungs.

"When yer ready … I'm waiting." Showing defiance in the face of adversity Steven merely stared at the mystery man refusing to give one iota, and then laughing replied flippantly, "Hey I remember now ... they took her to Hong Kong Disneyland." Jamie walked over to him. Steven Bonnet's eyes followed every move he made and watched as he chambered another bullet into his gun. Wondering if his time was up, he briefly closed his eyes. The mystery man's recent actions had given him no idea which way he would go. Jamie aimed the gun at him. "Now listen carefully. The choice is yours whether ye live or die." Trying to negotiate his way out of this sticky situation he was patronizing in his reply. "Oooh ... I'm afraid. If you kill us there will be no one to tell you where your woman is. Allow us to leave and I'll promise you that no harm will come to her. It's in your hands." James Fraser saw the supercilious smirk cross over the man's face as Bonnet raised his head to defiantly look at him. He was a typical recruit for the Rising Dragons … arrogant, proud, belligerent and not afraid to die. Catching a deft movement by the man Jamie caught a glimpse of a small gun Steven had secretively removed from a concealed place on his body. He pointed the gun at this menacing man in black ... but he was not quick enough in taking aim for before he could gain leverage Jamie shot him in self-defence. William Ransom watched in fear as the body of his friend slumped down onto the ground as the cold assassin stood his ground. "I want the location of Claire Beauchamp ... and I want it now." Petrified that he would meet the same demise as his friend, William was shaking in his boots and decided the best course of action was to tell all that he knew.

"Yes … yes … I'll tell you everything I know."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

#jamie x claire fanfic outlander fanfiction claire x jamie jamie x claire crossoverau outlander lfn covertoperations covert operations jame #jamieandclairefanfic #outlander fanfic #claire and jamie #crossoverau #outlander #LFN #covert operations

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reconhq · 5 years ago

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Do you have any advice for someone who wants to make a (very LGBTA positive) webseries of her own?.

oh boy! I sure do. I’ve actually been on a couple other projects other than Recon, all after the first season was written & mostly after the first season was shot, and ya girl has learned a lot because of and since season 1!

i am so sorry but this is going to be SO long. i am kinda obsessed with web series & digital content and it’s my actual professional career now so just… get ready. sorry 😅 i’ll add a TLDR at the end.

(p.s. this is just advice from me, Emma, and not the rest of the Recon team who may have different/additional advice, maybe someone will add on after the holidays)

write your bible before anything! depending on if you’re co-creating or just co-producing/writing, this should be done before you bring on additional folks. if you’re co-creating, this is obviously a collaborative process. when i created recon, i did it on my own. i pitched the original idea to some dear friends (one of whom makes a cameo as a security guard in ep 20!) and got their opinions, adapted from their advice, and once i had a solid format, main character, and general plot, i started on the bible. it took probably a month of fucking around before i felt ready to write a bible.

the basic components of a bible are a log line, short season overview, character breakdowns for your characters (mine are ~paragraph or two for main characters, with shorter ones for less central characters), a summary of the show’s main themes, genre and tones, and the format of the show (if you’re mapping out multiple seasons, it may be relevant to do this for each season as well as the overall show), as well as the most important part of your bible– the episode breakdowns. i’ll touch on those in a minute.

i do all my original brainstorming on paper, because i am adhd as fuck and it’s easier for me. your bible isn’t the place to brainstorm. separate them out. not saying you have to write on paper, but have a separate doc for brainstorming so the formatting for your bible can be easy to follow.

if you’re co-producing or having someone else produce your work, it makes sense to have your co-producer or producer right there with you as you work on your bible to give feedback. does this mean they’re writing it? no. is it useful as hell? yes.

my partner-in-creative-crime justice and i tend to share bibles and brainstorm docs with each other when we’re working together on a project. depending on which roles we’re playing on each project (e.g., i’m producing his podcast COSMIC under our company name but not co-creating or writing, so i mostly gave notes on his bible. we’re also working on a series called Inked, and we’re more like co-creators there, so we both write in the doc.)

your bible is the holy doc of your show; it’s what you show to any writers, producers, designers, any creative working on your show so that everyone is on the same page. it is your main reference and guiding light through the whole season; make it clear, organized, and as easy to read as possible. i personally use google docs for my bibles, and use the hell out of the outline function. highly recommend, but everyone has their own system.

break your ENTIRE story before before you write a single script, before you write your pilot, before anything. it’s part of your bible.

if you’re not super familiar with tv/screenwriting, breaking a story means figuring out the beats. the breakdown of reason s1 started as messy af writing on whiteboards, and turned into this:

this is absolutely not what your first outlines or final drafts will look like. we changed…. a ton while writing our scripts. you can see even in this sequence– episode 8 and 9 got blurred, and we barely touched on ava’s past because there wasn’t room. regardless, this doc & breakdown served as the basis for all our writers and kept us all on roughly the same page. when we disagreed, we could go back to this and sort it out from there!

find your people. two roles were crucial to me when we made recon: a mentor, and collaborators. having good people behind me was so so important; i could have never done this on my own.

i got…….. so lucky with my mentor, bernie su. he not only gave me incredible advice, read scripts, and reviewed cuts, he purchased the damn show, accounting for 75% of our funding. i feel like it’s important for me to acknowledge the luck and privilege i have here: the show would not happened without him, and i only got that chance because i live in LA, went to USC, and applied for the right job at the right time. HOWEVER, aside from the funding that made recon possible, bernie’s expertise seriously helped. after principle photography, we were left feeling lackluster, and bernie gave me advice that led me to make changes that transformed the show. having someone with experience– whether in tv, film, web series, any sort of writing– is invaluable.

while i created recon on my own, i did not develop or make it on my own. the episode breakdowns? half me, half other people (mainly justice lol). the look of the show? EP/DP christa, production designer amanda, graphic designer hal, and justice as costuming lead. i did not write season 1 on my own. i recruited friends from USC and even one from high school to write episodes i didn’t think i could do justice (no pun intended).

once you’ve found your people, trust them. there will obviously be cases where you disagree enough with someone’s creative opinions that you shouldn’t, but except in extreme cases, trust your people. try to only chose people you trust in the first place. letting go was so so so hard, but many of the best parts of recon happened because i got over myself and trusted my cast and crew. episode 16, player vs player, was justice’s baby, and i almost didn’t let him roll with the animations because i was too nervous. holy fuck, i’m so glad i trusted him. same with reflections (ep 15), written by my now-fiancé, which no one else could have written. hal was a bit unsure going in, but the episode is phenomenal. my production designer’s choices were amazing, and i had little to do with them other than being like “yes that is so cool let’s do it”

seriously. trust your people. watching bernie on artificial & emma approved trust us, his crew of mostly 20-somethings, with creative decisions taught me a huge lesson. i was 19 when he hired me, 19 when he bought the show, and he actually fucking trusted me and the rest of his team to do things. my initial reaction was what the fuck, but it worked. it also let him focus on the big picture while giving us the space we needed to feel creatively and emotionally fulfilled. trust your people.

this also applies to your actors. we had a google drive specifically for our actors to throw up ideas/backstory for their characters, and we’d read through it and give feedback and contributions. it led to better performances and characters with more depth. we also met with actors where we could to discuss their ideas for directions for their characters– video game nerd taylor came from convos with joré.

katiemichal and kat were just like, the same people as their characters, so there was less of this, but there is definitely value in casting the irl versions of your characters as them.

edit your episodes individually, then read through the WHOLE SEASON at once to edit. repeat that until you read it and it’s cohesive.

keep track of your timeline and your canon, even canon that’s not explicit in the show. there’s so much recon lore that we kept to ourselves that informs several decisions in the first season.

unless your character’s race/ethnicity (even gender) is a key part of their character or the show, cast with an open net. ava was originally a white girl name jody. ana, the actress who played her, originally auditioned for riley, and we changed the character’s entire backstory for her, which added an amazing dimension to the show we get to see in reflections (and an upcoming podcast shh). lesson fucking learned on my part– almost too late. don’t be like me.

ren, on the other hand, we were 100% sure was non-binary, and although we opened auditions to all genders, we specified from the start it was a non-binary character and we’d give priority to queer/nb actors. it was the right choice.

PRODUCTION DESIGN IS FUCKING IMPORTANT. cinematography is great, and we obviously focused on it a lot w the style of our show, but PD tells so much of your story without saying a word or taking up a second of airtime.

sound is the single most important thing on set. you can make an ugly shot work, ugly sound will bring people immediately out of the show and possibly abandon it. we fucked up scheduling for Punching Bag, and had to delay its release (it was originally episode 13, not 14), hire a sound editor, and put a goddamn disclaimer on it because we didn’t have time to get good sound because of our own mistakes. arguably my biggest regret of the season, because the script and acting for that episode is so good, and we low-key ruined it. GET GOOD SOUND.

only exception to this is probably coverage and continuity; although those can be fudged a lil more. get a script supervisor or have your AD do it so you don’t miss anything crucial. always get your masters first.

schedule more than you think you should. like, down to the 15-minute block. it won’t work, but it will work worse if you don’t. do your best to stay on schedule (hint: AD/producer on set)

trust your gut. this is your baby, and your choices should service the story you want to tell. let that be your north star, and while you should let your story evolve with time and the contributions of your cast and crew,

TL;DR: write your bible & break your season first. find a team you trust, and trust them with their choices (both cast & crew). if you can, find a mentor/someone with experience to give advice. edit your show both as individual episodes and as a whole season, multiple times. continuity is crucial, backstory is crucial, coverage is crucial, scheduling is crucial. GET GOOD SOUND. and always keep sight of the story you want to tell.

i am so sorry. this is a fucking essay.

#Web series #queer webseries #lgbtq web series #webseries #web series writing #lgbtq writers

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aboutlouishofmann · 5 years ago

Text

MYP Magazine - Of Time And Truth.

[Original interview here.]

22/07/2019

Interview by Jonas Meyer. Photos by Steven Ludtke

[I skipped the introduction and went straight for the interview]

Jonas:

When the first season of “Dark” was released in December 2017, viewers and critics alike have literally fallen over their enthusiasm. So far, many had not expected such quality from a German production, especially in terms of dramaturgy and visuality. How did you, as a Netflix consumer, experience the series start then?

Louis:

Luckily I’ve been able to enjoy the series as a relatively normal, objective viewer - and that’s true of the current season two. In “Dark” there are several roles and plot-lines, in which my character Jonas does not take part and which I accordingly did not know about from the shooting. During the shoot, I tried anyway to push aside all the other plot-lines and focus only on Jonas Kahnwald. Otherwise, I would probably have gotten pretty confused because the content of the series is so complex.

Jonas:

What is the difference between the current season two and the first one?

Louis:

In Season 1, it’s all about something that happens individually to each character which they have to deal with. In the second season, these characters are much more active, especially Jonas. At the very beginning of the series he is still very passive and in the course of the episodes he has to learn how to handle the issues himself. In the second season, he already knows who he is, what he means and what he needs to do to achieve his goals - and of course, what he has to sacrifice. But all the other characters learn, too, overall, the knowledge of each character acquires in the course of the second season is much larger. In addition, I would say that this second season is also more emotional. Now much more information will be passed on to others which changes their view of the world.

Jonas:

On the platform kino.de there is an episode guide to the first season, in which it is said that a single viewing of the series is not enough to recognize all the contexts and hints: “Often, a short distraction like reaching out to take drink or a look at the clock is enough to miss an important detail." Do you see it the same way?

Louis:

The series is definitely complex, I agree. And with so much information to be conveyed in Season 2 to drive the story forward, this second season may be even more complex than the first one. Jantje Friese and Baran bo Odar have always emphasized that with "Dark” they wanted to create a series that challenged viewers in a certain way. By the way, that did not happen until then in Germany - here one tends to play it safe. After the release of the first season, funnily enough, there were critics on the one hand who said that the series was too complicated. And at the same time there were critics on the other side who complained that we were guiding the audience by the hand way too much.

Jonas:

How did you deal with the high complexity, which is created solely within the character Jonas Kahnwald? Is there always an overview, even if you concentrate only on your own narrative thread?

Louis:

Of course we all lost the thread every now and then. But thank God there is Jantje, who has the complete perspective. She knows down to the last detail how, where, what, and when something happens. During the shooting for the second season, we also had a Script Supervisor, to whom you could always turn. In addition, there were special screens on the set, where you could play the entire first season - in the event that you wanted to look, which specific point refers to a scene for which one is just in front of the camera.

Jonas: Lars Montag, director of the Netflix series “How To Sell Drugs Online (Fast)”, revealed to us in an interview recently that he has the feeling that since Fassbinder there is actually no German narrative anymore. He said: “All are just trying to imitate Hollywood in any way.” Do you think it requires a special German narrative style - just as the Scandinavians, French or English people attributed to their very own cinematic narrative style?

Louis:

Definitely, no. I think we live in times when everyone is trying to make something special. This alone starts up more and more narrative styles. This can be observed even among the Scandinavians, who are said to have a particularly strong stereotype in imagery and narrative style. The reason for this development is that we all talk more and more international - but that does not explicitly mean that we are more Hollywood-oriented. For me, telling an international story means that we can address viewers across countries by means of certain narrative styles and therefore do not have to reduce ourselves to our local schemes.

Of course, it still needs different narrative in film - but not to emphasize the national location, but to be able to address the most diverse types of spectators. Quite apart from that, there is not one big secret recipe of the Hollywood narrative that you have to use to reach out to people. Rather, I believe that it is much easier today to break out of this Hollywood compulsion - simply because the audience has become much more diverse.

Jonas:

The trailer of the second “Dark” opens with a gloomy, post-apocalyptic landscape in which a destroyed nuclear power plant can be seen. Is it not strange how realistic and quite imaginable such fictional images are when viewed in the context of the current social debate about climate change and impending environmental catastrophes?

Louis:

When talking about the future, there are two main scenarios that seem possible: one is an extremely modern and thriving science-fiction world of flying cars, where everything flashes and shines. The other is just the opposite: a dark scenario in which everything is destroyed - because we humans have destroyed ourselves. In this scenario, nature slowly regains the upper hand and runs us down. With “Dark 2” there was not necessarily the intention to create parallels to this second possible scenario. But it is actually noticeable that these pictures do not seem so unrealistic in this day and age.

Jonas:

You recently appeared in the Arte short film series “Couples” with Dutch actress Hannah Hoekstra. You play a young couple who discusses whether it is appropriate to paint the German flag on one’s face, such as at a game of the national team. He gets mad about it, she does not understand his problem. How do you personally look at this country at the moment?

Louis:

With shame and concern because the most important and threatening topic in the world - climate change - is not taken seriously. There seems to be a kind of change of heart, which is also expressed by the fact that the Greens temporarily lead in the polls. Nevertheless, I always feel stifled when I realize how climate goals are ignored and Germany - which has a certain role model function - fucks it up. I think that’s really sad. I sincerely hope that this green trend will not be short-lived and will continue because we simply have to make sure that this earth is not doomed to destruction in 30 years’ time. When I deal with the predicted, catastrophic consequences of climate change, it scares me. In view of this threatening situation, I do not understand why young politicians are not getting much more involved in Germany. Their job gives them a huge stage! Unfortunately, this stage is only used by the fewest. But now they have the chance to finally speak out truths. But it is only blabbed. If you listen to some of these politicians, you want to shake them and wake them up.

Jonas:

In recent years, you have greatly reduced your social media activity. You could use your popularity and the associated reach to give more space to certain issues in public discourse. Why did you decide to withdraw from the social networks? Don’t you feel like you could’ve made a difference?

Louis:

Of course, with a certain amount of followers and the range involved, it is possible to spread your own opinions and influence those of other people. But for me it has always been difficult to position myself in the social networks on specific political issues. Although it was relatively easy for me in the run-up to the European elections to call with my posts to go to the polls. Otherwise, I’m more careful. I’ve probably missed the chance to tell people my opinions for a long time. By the way, others manage to do really well, which I admire very much. But in my case it was a very selfish decision to delete my Facebook account and withdraw heavily from Instagram.

Jonas:

To what extent?

Louis:

It just did not do me any good. I always had the feeling that I must post something to entertain people. That totally unsettled me and put me under pressure. That’s why I decided to get rid of it. I did not think Facebook was necessary anyway. The decision to stop using Instagram came last year during the shoot for the second season of “Dark”. At that time, I was generally under a lot of pressure. And when there are other components, such as social networks, that add pressure to me, it all got too much. My Instagram account still exists and I post pictures from time to time, but I have to reinstall the app every time because I delete it after each post. In principle, I myself have no access to my Instagram profile. When I want to post something, my girlfriend has to sit beside me because she has the password.

Jonas:

What was the reason that you were so under pressure last year?

Louis:

There has not been any time in my life when I felt more pressure than in 2018 - pressure was my word of the year. That’s because the year before was the craziest and most extreme year I’ve ever experienced, in any way. I have tried to tell myself over and over again, “Louis, 2017 will not be repeated. Take care and get ready! "But I was not ready. 2018 has completely overrun me - due to the extreme expectations, which were suddenly felt from all sides. For the audience, the journalists and the critics, it is a natural fact that you are always good. If you’ve played some good roles, everyone expects you to keep doing your job properly. This matter of course has affected me much more.

Jonas:

How do you feel about seeing yourself on the screen?

Louis:

That’s OK in principle - I really want to see the work I’ve done. But I can really enjoy a movie as a viewer only if I do not have to rate my own work. Overall, I am very critical of myself and therefore quickly dissatisfied. Sometimes I would wish that I am not so hard on myself, because that would make me more free in the way I work. It hampers you a lot when you’re too scared of failure or too much pressure - you realize, pressure is a big issue in my life.

Jonas:

In a few months, the film "Deutschstunde” will start in the cinemas, for which you have taken on a supporting role. In the film adaptation of the novel by the same name by Siegfried Lenz about an expressionist painter, where a prohibition of the profession was imposed by the Nazis in 1943. This repression existed in Germany not only at the time of National Socialism, but also in the former GDR. In some countries, such as China, even today, professional bans are being imposed. How would you react if you were no longer allowed to be an actor?

Louis:

I have never asked myself this question. It makes perfect sense to consider it. I suspect that I have never dealt with the question because here in Germany we are in a very privileged situation where we are allowed to practice what we want as a profession. If that were forbidden, I would be completely at a loss. Acting is what I do best of all activities and what I like to do most. There never was a plan B in my life either - so I would not know what to do with myself.

Jonas:

Can you “not act” as an actor at all?

Louis:

Of course, in everyday life you can stop it. However, every actor is inclined to be a permanently on game, such as with jokes, gestures or certain behaviors. It is easy to express oneself. I believe that in order to give the truth to a person, one must draw truth from oneself. And if you no longer have truths, you can not play them. On the other hand, I have the experience that I always take parts of my characters into my own life or discover new things about myself through them. In other words: through the role, I open a box, which then remains open a bit. As a result, my roles always change a bit for me as well. For example, I feel like through the many sensitive characters that I was allowed to play, I have embraced the sensitive side in myself more - unfortunately I can not find a word in German with which I could better express that. What I mean by that: Had I not played so many sensitive characters, today I would be a sensitive person, but not to the extent that I have become in the end.

Jonas:

Which of your projects has been the most emotionally charged so far?

Louis:

I would say that was “Prélude” by Sabrina Sarabi, which will be released on August 29th. In the film, I play the young piano student David, who suffers from strong self-doubt and feels a huge pressure of expectation - a situation that I can understand very well, as already mentioned. However, with David, he loses control of his life and threatens to break under the pressure.

This movie is the first one I for which I have prepared with a coach. When working with acting coach Frank Betzelt, it was especially about how the energy between the individual characters felt, what these energies wanted and how they influenced the characters. That helped me a lot to dig deep into my role. For example, I have discovered a much greater access to the feeling of anger, mainly to self-rage. I personally did not know that feeling before. Until then, I have never felt the need to be angry, let alone gain access to this emotion.

All in all, during this time I let David’s emotional world come close to me - and literally took it home with me. That put a strain on me not only during preparation and shooting, but also for almost a whole year afterwards.

Jonas:

How exactly?

Louis:

For example, a few months after filming, there was an incident that happened when I was visiting my parents in Cologne with my girlfriend. After watching a couple of episodes of “Babylon Berlin” with Liv Lisa Fries - Liv plays my girlfriend in “Prélude” - I felt an extreme unease in the next morning. I was kind of aggressive and in a bad mood, which kept increasing throughout the day, until I finally just collapsed in the evening. Probably the situation with my parents at home and with my girlfriend on the side gave me such a safe space that I could process all this again. There was apparently no real opportunity to do that before because after the “Prélude” shoot exciting things kept happening. I had the impression that I had dragged this topic for months and only let everything out during my visit in Cologne. But I did not really get rid of it. When I saw the movie for the first time some time later, I was really sad for two or three days and did not know why. So I called Frank Betzelt, who had coached me then. He just asked me one question: “What really bothers you? The fact that you are so sad or that you do not know why you are sad?”

Jonas:

What a clever question!

Louis:

An incredibly smart question! My answer was, “Because I do not know why this is happening to me.” And then Frank said it was fine and I did not have to fight it. The reason for this is that I have grown so fond of the character and thereby experienced the suffering of this young artist even more intensely. We talked about it for a while - and after that phone call it was OK.

Jonas:

Kat Frankie, a singer-songwriter living here in Berlin, wrote the interesting sentence: “People that write sad songs are a little happier.” Is that similar to actors who play sad roles?

Louis:

You can say that the other way around too - look at Robin Williams, who was hilarious in his roles, but must have been extremely sad in his private life and finally took his own life. Basically, I think that actors who play a lot of melancholic roles, also need a certain fascination. And if you have that fascination in general, you have it when you’re not acting as well.

Jonas:

If you ignore the expectations of other people: What is your own claim to yourself?

Louis:

I have a very high standard of myself and I am extremely ambitious.

Jonas:

That means you’re also prone to criticism?

Louis:

I’m trying not to be that. It’s a bit strange to me anyway: I’m really excited about criticism and sometimes find it strange when there’s none at all - especially when I know for sure that there’s something to criticize. At the same time, it is not so easy for me to handle criticism when it is actually voiced, especially if it comes from myself. I wish that was easier.

Jonas:

Are you someone who takes things from peers?

Louis ( smiles ):

Off or on? No, seriously, I think you have to make sure that you can focus on your own work and not get too confused by the hype that is often justified by some of your colleagues. But I also think it’s just right as an actor to keep your eyes open and to be inspired by what’s being done elsewhere. But we should all be in this world anyway, no matter if actor or not.

#louis hofmann #dark netflix #jonas kahnwald #prélude

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lepetitebouchon · 5 years ago

Text

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY CURRENT EMPLOYER.

Greetings, Globe Spanning Company That Has Cult-Like Ideas, Language and Behavior (said with love, for those of you who know just how genuinely thankful I am for the job I have today).

I’ve been with you for over four years - 2020 marks entry into my fifth, but I won’t be getting to that milestone. I’m finally spreading my wings. I want to start this off positive: I have always felt thankful, grateful and blessed to have this job. As a company, you really do try to lead by example. You really do try to not treat your employees as numbers. You are generous (at times), inclusive (always), and provide some amazing benefits and perks for all employees.

I joined you at the end of my first career path, hired on precisely because my background was what you needed: an experienced fine dining pastry chef to bring professionalism and class when you all were trying something a little funky with how your company operated at night. I was promoted almost immediately to a supervisor. My management helped me through some of the worst experiences I had in my personal life, your company helped me get back into college, you provided a path to growth and development into upper management.

Even today, despite my grievances, I would recommend people to work with you...although, I will always be honest about the ups and downs I’ve both seen and experienced.

But let me tell you why I’m leaving. No one comes to my blog, so this won’t get far, it’s my own personal catharsis. I’ve tried to air these same thoughts to my current manager and district manager and it’s like talking to a wall. The gloves are now off and language filter switch has been flipped. This is long, so strap in.

When I said my previous career path was “experienced”, I wasn’t fucking joking. I’ve worked a myriad of jobs: I’ve managed millions of dollars for businesses and the professionals that run them as a merchant banker (meaning, I counted their cash, advised when appropriate, and made sure they spoke with the proper team member to further their ventures). I’ve worked in retail for a combined total (past and current) for probably 5-6 years. And more importantly and relevant to your company: I have roughly 8 or 9 years of kitchen experience, most of those as a pastry chef. I have worked as a team and solo, I have designed dessert menus for some locations, and managed small kitchen teams, I’ve worked for celebrity chefs and kitchens ranked in the upper 10 and 5, respectively in their style/region of cooking in the nation.

I graduated within the top percentile at my pastry school of choice, with honors.

With a brief rundown of my resume out of the way, let’s talk about “development”.

My path to upper management has been rocky. When originally approached about having my own store, it stemmed from my involvement in solving two monumental problems in my original store. Sadly, during this time I was going through a major life problem and couldn’t wait in line for my promotion. Our store was training a new store manager, a girl who started at a similar time as I was selected to be trained next, and I would come after her. I needed a pay raise, so I opted for transferring to a team that would be making in house baked goods at your headquarters, guaranteed to pay me a few dollars more, but it was enough for me to survive moving forward.

My background made me eligible for a “leadership” role is this new team. I should have known something was up because I could never get confirmation on my title, no matter how hard I pushed. I was whisked off to corporate as an “assistant” chef. Your company was asking for upwards of 5-8 years of experience for “assistants”. What would I be making, pray tell? Loaf cakes, cookies, tarts, muffins and other basics. Recipes someone with minimal experience could make. I was not in the promised leadership role.

Unhappy and frustrated, I transferred to your storefront when it opened in their version of a supervisor at my initial beginnings. I would be one of a few supervisors in the bakery area and we were not treated as equal to your retail side. Despite being a supervisor I was inexplicably not given keys, a safe code or the ability to problem solve at our own point of sale devices - I had to get a “retail” supervisor. Those in the bakery would ONLY be given these rights if they had “retail” experience - which I had.

I yearned for an assistant manager role, so I worked tirelessly for another six months before broaching that subject.

I was not the only experienced employee there: there were a handful of us with up to ten years of company experience - this detail will be important momentarily.

When I sat down with two of the assistant managers for a “development talk” and told them my story of how I turned down a “core” store manager role to be there due to outside circumstances...they laughed at me. They said that any experience I had before coming to this particular team was irrelevant and I would need to start at the bottom all over again and had “so much to learn” and that my resume “didn’t have weight” and that my prior kitchen management and schooling basically were useless.

I was devastated. I cried. I walked away from that meeting feeling ashamed, embarrassed and it demolished the respect I had for how you as a company have when you boast about how to treat your employees.

The assistant manager role you filled did not go to one of the more experienced employees who had been supevisors or store managers who stepped down to regular retail grunts to be there.

No.

You transferred someone from the opposite coast and stomped on the hopes and dreams of a half dozen hopefuls. So, armed with newfound cash I left to go back to your more traditional storefronts thousands of miles away.

They wanted me to become a store manager as well, but I was facing a surgery with lengthy recovery. They promised as soon as I was back on my feet, they would begin the process of peer review and interviews. However, another horrific speed bump occurred. A major snafu involving my benefits sent me packing back across the country. It was cheaper for me to move back and “reset” my benefits than lose 300 bucks a month in insurance costs over a period of seven months.

Are you still with me? Good, we’re almost there, I promise.

I won’t get into all of the specifics of what happened when I landed in my current location. My initial start was rough, I wasn’t given my full time hours, we were short staffed for a huge chunk of time. It was so bad in the beginning I started looking for new employment in the field I’d been studying at school. By now I was two years into college, it felt right.

At the same time, my manager and I went through a lot of growing pains. Eventually, yes, I was once again put back on my store manager track. I was hesitant - it had never worked out in the past.

Only to be told, again, I had to work on some things. I was willing to put in that hard work, but ultimately, I was given an offer that I couldn’t refuse.

And I’m sorry, corporate, but your stores are NOT that fucking hard to run. My current manager has ZERO food experience. He sold fucking shoes before this (no disrespect, I adore my manager and we have the best time working together).

I would not be looking for other jobs if you as a whole wouldn’t patronize me and other supervisors, and hold your store managers up on some goddamn pedestal.

I have YEARS of retail experience.

I have YEARS of kitchen management experience.

I have YEARS of food service experience.

If I were to apply to this as an “outside” hire, I meet and exceed all of your requirements.

I have admiration, love and respect of every employee I have lead within your company. In EVERY store I’ve been in my store manager and the peers below my level ask me why I don’t have a store. My peers in multiple stores across states have asked me to tell them when I’m promoted because if they’re still with the company they want to work with me.

I help my own manager with decisions. He asks for advice because I’m like a breathing encyclopedia of your companies policies and procedures because I gobbled down every bit of information I could to better my understanding of your stores so I WOULD be prepared some day.

I’m not asking for a promotion now. Or this week. But I think if someone who sold shoes can run a basic cafe, it might be okay to at least offer a mock interview for someone who has a resume shiny enough to get into very respected kitchens in any state I want to go to.

I have bent over backwards and given just about all that I am. Every manager I’ve been with in your company has already told me I could do their job and that I would be an excellent choice.

But no.

I’ve been nothing but loyal and devoted. I’ve asked for opportunities. And this would have been the year, my district manager and store manager were committed to getting me there, finally. I would just need to wait until “later this year”.

But it’s too little too late. I have an opportunity right in front of me, that has acknowledged my skill sets and asked me to join their fold.

It was honestly a hard decision at first. I was thrilled to finally, finally, finally being given the opportunity to lead my team in a much more meaningful way.

I felt like I was going to be betraying my team and my upper leadership.

And then I realized the power of the words, “I’m better than this and I have the track record to prove it”.

Then I packed my proverbial bags.

I’ll miss my store, but I won’t miss you as a company.

Cheers.

#personal #life

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