#work aprons uk

[doctor-yaoi-phd]

Confessions of a Rotten Girl MV References to Fujoshi and Yaoi Culture

0:13 In the background of Miku’s room we can see dakimakuras hung on the wall, as well as a poster of a bara esque character wearing a face mask. Dakimakuras, or body pillows, are a common piece of anime merchandise.

0:17 All of Miku’s speech bubbles within the video are stylized like manga bubbles, even using the same font (wildwords). Also, the object she’s holding behind her is a yaoi paddle, a long pine wood paddle that were sold in the mid to late 2000s as decorative props, but were also used by some convention goers to spank others as a prank. While they typically read ‘Yaoi’, ‘Seme’, ‘Uke’, or other similar terms, hers reads ‘sinner’.

0:24 We get a better look at the manga she’s buying in this scene. The illustration is of a man getting his pec grabbed, with “Knockers” written up at the top. The text on the front reads “The best ever.”, and is subtitled “Time to see some old man hole”. The character seems to be one of Hokawazu’s, an NSFW artist who appears to have drawn this image, or at least been referenced by it. Additionally, the cover advertises a free CD that comes with the manga. BL CDs are a form of media in the yaoi genre in which the story is constrained to an audible form. Audio dramas that can be either explicit or safe for work in their content.

0:34 The cream on their faces is a reference to the trope of frosting/cream being used as pseudo-semen to imply a sensual undertone to images that may otherwise be SFW (I believe, the aprons might also be a reference, but I’m not sure as to what). Also, Yuuma and Len are the only two of the five without frosting on their faces - they’re also the only two who aren’t sexualized throughout the MV, presumably because they’re Miku’s classmates and therefore high schoolers and most likely underage.

0:36 Lemon slices float upwards, referring to the Citrus Scale, an older metric of labeling explicit fan works. ‘Lemon’ in this context indicates that the work is erotic or explicit in nature.

0:40 Example of classic seme/uke dynamic. Note Kiyoteru’s smaller and less muscled frame, as well as his more pointed jaw as compared to Gakupo’s square chin. Gakupo’s lanyard reads ‘Soft Seme’, and the camera effects imply Miku is recording all of this. Additionally, the lyrics and the outfits the characters are wearing imply that they are students and faculty members at Miku’s school, which means she’s shipping real people, as Fujoshi’s are often criticized for doing.

0:43 This whole image is a Given reference.

0:44 The lyric “Just watch! Look beyond the smoke and mirrors” refers to shipping culture, and how some fans with theorize that their pairing would be canon if not for an outside acting force such as management, producers, writers, etc. The most popular example I can name in reference to this is the Johnlocke conspiracy.

0:47 Luka is scribbled out and labeled ‘Delusional’ by Miku, in reference to how female characters and actors tend to be treated poorly by some fans for ‘getting in the way’ of slash ships.

0:51-0:57 Kaito, Kiyoteru, and Gakupo are bound in bondage ropes, except for Gakupo, who is bound with jump ropes because he’s the gym teacher.

1:03 Miku is holding a Death Note, except it’s not a Death Note, it’s a ‘Yaoi Note’. May be a reference to Lawlight, a popular Death Note ship.

1:06 “The lord sayeth “halt thy child, don’t give into sin”” is a reference to how some Fujoshis have referred to yaoi as ‘sin’ in the past, and the act of engaging with it as ‘sinning’.

1:15 Omegaverse referenced on the chalkboard next to bananas and donuts; bananas referring to penises, donuts referring to assholes. Anal sex.

1:27 Rotten tomatoes, as are thrown in disapproval at a poor performance. At first I thought this was a Hetalia reference, but figured that might be a bit too deep of a cut. They’re also used in reference to the ‘rotten’ in ‘rotten girl’ (“rotten girl” is a translation of the word “Fujoshi”), rotten tomatoes for a rotten girl.

1:38 This whole segment is a Danganronpa references, a fandom with many popular slash ships.

1:43 Top left and right of the chalkboard are Ao3 symbols, specifically the ones for Explicit, M/M, Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, and Completed Work.

2:00 Most of this is obscure to me, but if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say the fruit is referencing forbidden fruit (as brought up earlier in the song), the ping pong paddles yaoi paddles, and the tarts the desserts the boys were holding earlier.

2:10 MikuMikuBeam in the bottom right corner. Not yaoi, but a cute reference to another of Sawtowne’s works.

2:13 She’s using some website on the computers in the back, but the pixelation makes it hard to tell which. I’d guess maybe a manga reading website? But none I’m familiar with.

2:21 Refers to a trend on TikTok where the speed at which the circles are moving implies the speed at which the corresponding character is having sex (top or bottom).

2:25 Another reference to the Citrus Scale.

2:33 Penis in the reflection of her glasses.

2:52 And finally, slowburn is a fanfiction trope.

I probably missed a few, but these were the ones I was familiar enough with to speak on! Please stream Confessions of a Rotten Girl by Sawtowne :)

[operafantomet]

Hi! I’m currently doing an MA in historical costuming and for my final project I will be making Christine’s “Slavegirl Hannibal” costume as well as the “Elissa” costume, I want to try and base it off of Lucy St Louis costume and I was wondering if you had any in depth, detailed photos of her version of the costumes? Thank you in advance!!

Oh, how awesome!

As per maria Bjørnson's costume design, the bodice is meant to be fairly hourglass-shaped, with gold ornaments over the bust, and as a "belt" around the hips. The skirt consists of "ropes" - this has been solved different in different productions. In the front skirt there's also rows of beading, and the same can be seen over the arms.

The Hannibal bodices usually consist of ten vertical panels in alternating red and green velvet, closing in the back with hooks and bars, or hooks and eyes. They are lined with cotton; sometimes white, sometimes black. The UK ones often have black lining. They can have boning channels in the middle of the lining panels, or sewn on as separate boning channels attached over the inner seams. They may or may not have an inner waistband, and they all close in the back. Here's the inside of a UK bodice from 2016:

As you can see, this depicted bodice has additional padding over the chest and hips. This can be done either for general comfort, or if an existing costume is re-fitted for a new actress / dancer.

Lucy St Louis' bodice had a nice hourglass shape, with two rows of pleated trim in front, one row of the same at the side and back seams, alternating with a narrower looped gold trim.

The larger gold panels in front and back is built up of various gold appliqiées and red and green gems. Albeit not Lucy's, they typically look like this when not attached:

Here's a closeup from Lucy St Louis' collar, which shows the various components better, and the placement of the gems:

As for the grand Elissa gala skirt, it feature a sort of bodice continuation, ending into a pointed front. The grand skirt is just put on top of the main bodice, which allows a super quick costume change, going from ballerina to leading lady:

You have to sit close to notice the discrete horizontal line where the bodice and skirt meets, especially when it's so neatly done as in Lucy's costume. They made the false bodice continuation a lot shorter than previous skirts, which mimick's Carlotta's bodice well.

The skirt itself is made of a shimmering green taffeta (?), possibly shot with black. The hem is multiple rows of fold trims, pleated, and decorated with X-shaped gold trims with gens and tassels. Then an additional red/golden trim on top, and another wavy red/golden trim a bit further up. On top of this is four tabs, red with golden decorations, and a red apron with green/gold trims, fringes and "brooches". There is furthermore a green/red waterfall backdrape, with one of the red tabs on top. Here's the skirt in making, with just the main base and the red apron:

With all decorations it looked like this:

This backdrape is the one they made for Paige Blankson rather than Lucy St Louis. It is not identical, but similar in materials, and identical in shape. So it can serve as an illustration:

Same with the tabs for Paige's costume - not identical, but similar materials and shape:

The skirt is lifted by various layers of tulle, netting and sometimes also hoops. The skirt should ideally have a hint of bustle, to reflect on what was the fashion of the era even if it's a costume. But some versions go more panier, with wide hips and flatter in the front and back. Like the bodice, the skirt closes in the back with a closing hidden on one side under the backdrape.

I think that is the main breakdown of the costume. I hope it gives you a decent base to work on, at least. I can also make you a photoset, showing the photos overneath plus some more. Best of luck with the project, and have FUN!

[landograndprix]

imagine lando x sushi chef! tsunoda! reader where they meet for the first time in suzuka he is absolutely smittened at first sight tries to impress her and her brother learning some japanese, interacting and commenting on her ig and even trying some sushi but eventually she realizes he doesn’t like fish and makes wonderful non fish sushi alternatives chdkskogjdjsk

No but Yuki would pretend he doesn't know who you are because ain't not way another driver is liking his sister but lando is on a mission and it doesn't take him long to find out you're yuki’s sister, he'll have a little stalking session on your socials before following and diving straight into your dms.

Yuki doesn't really realise what the Brit is trying to do until he sees a comment from lando on one of your posts, its a poor attempt at Japanese and you're 100% sure he used google ranslate but you're both impressed because he's ✨ trying his darn best ✨

And maybe you moved to the UK or something to open up your own restaurant so you casually invite him over with some of his friends and this love sick boy isn't going to say no so he'll find himself stuck behind a plate full of sushi and he's visibly struggling but god he needs to make a good impression so he's on the edge of gagging with each bite and his friends laughing their asses off around him isn't helping either— one of them will blurt out that he doesn't even like sushi or fish at all and miss Tsunoda would be offended at first because what do you mean you don't like fish? That's basically what sushi is all about?! 🤨 and lando would've turned green by now and would struggle to say he's trying to impress you and that he actually can't continue eating it or he'll end up throwing up.

You're not even working in the kitchen yourself that night but you don't think twice and get your little apron to make this man some good goddamn sushi and you best belief that from that night he'll be on yuki’s ass asking if he could bring some to the track next time and everytime Yuki has to remind him he doesn't even live close to you. And he'll be asking for said sushi at least once a week when you finally move in with him. 🥺

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

A Very Midwest Emo Yuletide

I didn't intend on posting this on Christmas, but here we are! Oh and hi @alwaysjustmina I believe I promised you this...

Found-family Yuletide meal, set in the Midwest Emo Ghouls AU. Mountain and Swiss are hosting the annual Yuletide meal and everyone's invited, even a special guest from New York...

Some Ghroup Yuletide meal found family fluff, not at all inspired by my uni-reunion-christmas-meal last weekend.

Rating: General wc: ~ 1600

Read below the cut or on AO3!

For the Midwest Emo AU, when there's multiple career hcs on the tag I chose my favorite, likewise sorry for any Britishisms. I’m saying this has the same “US-UK-hodgepodge" vibes as Sex Education did on Netflix...

“Give me a hand, Mount!” called Swiss, as he dragged a freshly-felled fir tree through the door. As always he’d left it to the last minute and, as always, he’d overestimated the size of tree they could realistically fit inside their low-ceilinged farmhouse on the edge of town.

Mountain chuffed in amusement, drying his hands on his apron, before helping Swiss bully the tree into a somewhat-upright position in the corner, into the holder he had made many years previously.

“Fewer squirrels still living in it this year then, Snapdragon?” Mountain laughed over his shoulder, bustling back to the kitchen end of the large room.

“I can’t promise!” Swiss paused to re-tie his boots, before grabbing a bucket and heading back out the door to dig up the root vegetables he had held back specially for their Yuletide feast. Almost everyone was coming this year, and they were sure to be hungry.

“Where are we on the schedule then Mounty?” asked Aurora, her rolled-up sleeves the only part of her not dusted in flour or icing of some kind. She bent down to glare at the cake she had in the oven, daring it not to rise.

“We’re making good time Ror, the Turkey’s ready to go in as soon as your cake is finished, I’ll make pigs-in-blankets later, then it’s just potatoes, parsnips, carrots, and sprouts as soon as Swiss is done. Have you heard how the girls are getting on this morning?”

“Lulu says Cirrus filled the car with bottles last night so we’re good for drinks, and she already made a Yule log and a plum pudding yesterday, and a trifle this morning!”

“Everything’s going to plan then. I hope Dew’s given Rain time to prepare everything they’re bringing…”

Across town, Rain was indeed pushed for time, thanks to his rather stressed husbands buzzing around his head all morning. He was incredibly grateful he’d made the stuffing and cranberry sauce the night before; he was running behind finishing his nut roast, and hadn’t even started on the cauliflower cheese yet. Dewdrop was panicking about his upcoming Yuletide sermon, a yearly occurrence (both the panicking and the sermon), and Phantom had somehow managed to lose all of the craft materials he needed for the youth club event he was running at the church with Sunshine.

When their doorbell rang, immediately followed by several loud knocks signalling Sunny’s characteristic impatience, Rain had breathed a sign of relief. She had whisked Phant away for the day, reminding him that she had all the construction paper and glitter, and promising to be at Swiss and Mountain’s on time for the meal later. Rain was glad she was driving, last year he’d still been vacuuming glitter out of his car in April. Sunny taught pre-K at the local school, and since the school term had already ended, she and Phantom were running an extended youth group session for the children and kits who’s parents had to work today. She had been over at the youth pastor’s house several nights this week already, trying to teach him how to make pipe-cleaner Yule goats.

Now just Dew remained, and Rain was splitting his time between packing his nut roast into a pan, and reassuring Dew that yes, his sermon’s message was clear, no it wasn’t boring, yes he would still love him if it went badly, and no he’s not fed up with him talking about it, and nor is Phantom. Eventually, he stuffed a wooden spoon into his hand, and told him to get stirring the cheese sauce while the cauliflower steamed.

Back at the farmhouse, Aurora’s cake was cooling on the side and the turkey was in the oven. Swiss had returned with enough vegetables to feed a small army which he was busy washing and chopping to roast with honey from his bees later. Mountain and Aurora were hurriedly decorating the tree, hanging almost a decade’s worth of decorations made and gifted to them by Mountain and Swiss’ scout troop. Cirrus and Cumulus were due to arrive any minute, and the hosts wanted their home to feel suitably festive before they put them to work helping to finish dinner.

“Ding dong!” trilled a voice entering through the open kitchen door. Cumulus bustled in, arms laden with goodies. “Cir’s just backing the car up.”

“Hey Lus, good to see you!” Swiss moved to pull her into a hug, remembering at the last minute to put down the large knife he was holding first.

“Lulu! My dessert queen!” squealed Aurora as she ran back into the kitchen, her socked feet sliding on the flagstone floor. She narrowly avoided toppling into Cirrus, bags clinking with bottles that no doubt promised a good time once they returned from church that evening. “Oh, hi Riri, did you bring the lavender syrup from the bar?”

“Let her breathe first, Petal.” Mountain also re-entered the kitchen, and laid one of his large and gentle hands on Aurora’s shoulder.

“Hello Rory, everyone, happy Yule!” setting the bags gently on the floor, Cirrus deftly extracted a small purple bottle from one of them. “Lavender syrup, m’lady”.

“Amazing, thanks Cir! Lu, will you help me taste the frosting for my cake? I don’t want to add too much lavender, I can’t feed Mist soap cake!”

Biting back a smile, Cumulus let herself be dragged over to the still cooling cake, and the bowl of frosting waiting next to it. Aurora and Her Yule Cake had been a much discussed topic all week: Aurora’s not-at-all-subtle crush on Mist, the ghoulette who owned the town’s small record shop, was not as secret as she may have hoped. After their last run-in at the coffee shop Rory worked in, during which Mist had briefly mentioned that her favourite cake was an Earl-Grey and lavender concoction she’d had in her art student days, Aurora had been obsessed with the idea of making it for their Yule celebration. Mist wasn’t due to arrive until later in the day, as she lodged in Zephyr’s spare room and had promised them and Omega a lift out to the farm straight after they finished work at the local GP surgery.

Mountain pottered back over to check on the turkey, and hummed in satisfaction at what he saw. He began loading Cumulus’ desserts into the fridge, before pulling out sausages and bacon to assemble Phantom’s favourite Yuletide trimming.

The next to arrive were Rain and Dew, both looking somewhat frazzled, arms loaded with foil-covered trays. Separately and silently, the pair dumped their offerings on the counter before beelining for the fridge for a drink to de-stress. Mountain snickered and shook his head at them fondly, before putting Rain’s nut roast into the oven and removing the turkey to rest. There was a reason Rain, Dew and Phantom never hosted Yule, after all.

Phantom and Sunny showed up a while later, both with hair full of glitter and even some in Phantom’s eyebrow. The children and kits from the youth church group had made them their annual Yuletide decorations, which they hung on the tree with Cirrus. Phantom proudly showed off his best attempt yet at a Yule goat to Dew, the horns almost even this time.

Last to arrive, as expected, were Omega, Zephyr and Mist, Omega still loosening his festive tie as he walked in the door and trading it with Swiss for a beer. Aurora was very glad she had changed her flour-dusted outfit after her baking escapades: Mist had clearly put in effort, her short shock of icy platinum hair meticulously styled to look effortless. As she laid a cool hand on Aurora’s arm, wishing her a happy Yuletide in her low, soft voice, Aurora had blushed almost as red as the sequins on her dress.

Eventually, Swiss managed to wrangle everybody into a mis-match of seats around the table, and Mountain led the charge of serving up the food. In a flurry of plates, side-dishes and serving spoons, everybody soon had a plate piled high with their annual Yuletide feast.

Just as Mountain was taking the final seat, there was a knock at the door. While the others shared confused glances, Mountain and Swiss exchanged a knowing look.

“Get the door would you Dew? You’re closest.” asked Swiss.

Dew huffed and rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it. He moved to the door, throwing it open to meet a pair of warm, violet eyes above a soft and almost sheepish grin.

“Aether!” he had all-but shrieked, throwing himself into the larger ghoul’s chest with such force he almost pushed him straight back out the door.

“Hey there Firefly, Happy Yule.” Aether brought large arms up to encircle Dew in a hug, slowly walking them far enough into the house to close the door.

“Glad you made it Aeth!” Swiss smiled, clapping him on the shoulder as he pulled another chair up to the table, squeezing it in between his and Dew’s.

“Just in time too!” Mountain placed a hastily filled extra plate of food in front of the new chair, and leaned over a still-attached Dewdrop to gently knock horns with Aether. Aether deposited Dew back into his seat before taking his own, exchanging greetings with the other ghouls, both old friends and newer.

After a very merry Yule feast, but before stuffing themselves further with dessert and cake – or getting lost to Cirrus’ lethal cocktails – they piled into a selection of cars to head to church, all of Dew’s nerves forgotten in the excitement of Aether’s return.

[majesticwren]

due to high demand - me. I'm high demand. this entire project is being written entirely for my pleasure, be warned I'm being extremely self-indulgent - I've decided to write a little prequel to the events that take place here. this is set in 2018 and is the beginning of Fletch x OFC. billy will have his own little prequel at some point. enjoy.

Trigger Warning/s: alcohol consumption, mention of addiction, mention of sex, mention of trauma, sexual harassment, swearing, OFC is her own trigger warning she is damaged goods and slightly toxic, kyle is a little baby, mark is being overprotective and extremely toxic sorry not sorry, angst, mainly friends to lovers/impossible relationship dynamics.

nuclear season: part I -> | part II -> | part III -> prequel: part II -> | part III -> | part IV -> Masterlist

January 2018

There was always something melancholically romantic about an empty venue after a show. Seeing a place that had been crowded, hot and loud for hours suddenly empty and silent had a particular bittersweet vibe to it.

Erika sat on one of the foldable chairs at ringside, one leg crossed over her knee, swinging her foot to the beat of the seconds, looking around as she waited. Trying to pass the time, she fiddled with a lock of her hair.

The lights of the venue were now all switched on, making the ring at the centre of the room look extremely surgical. A couple of RevPro workers were dismantling it, pulling the apron and starting to take down the ropes. Erika moved her attention to another person on the other side of the room who was folding up the chairs, ready to load them away.

Erika tapped her foot on the floor. It was sticky under the sole of her show because of the spilt over drinks. She took some time to count the abandoned plastic cups and forgotten items she could see all over the place, making it look like the crowd partied hard. Which wasn’t far from reality. They had a good crowd at the show that night and everyone seemed to have enjoyed themselves wrestlers and guests alike.

She was proud of many of the pictures she had taken. There was a content smile nested on her lips as she was aware she had probably made rent with that event.

There were many pros to working in wrestling. It was a career she hadn’t considered before, even though she had been around the scene for years since her brother was such a massive fan and had been wrestling already for over ten years. So, she had her fair bit of knowledge and was charmed by that world but had never thought it possible to make a career out of it.

Still, now she wasn’t entirely convinced her dream had come true. Somehow, she thought she didn’t deserve it and considered it a privilege. She had hurt and disappointed so many people before, too used to being a problematic teenager than this new responsible adult that Erika was convinced it was only a matter of time before she fell into her old habits again.

But, at the moment, she was enjoying doing what she was doing and paying her living doing liked most. Photography was her life. She loved taking pictures, framing moments and making them hers forever. Plus, her job was fun and granted her the possibility not only to travel and meet many people, but she got to do it all with her dear big brother.

The most important part of following that dream, though, was that it gave her the chance to leave Australia for good. She had followed Mark to the UK only for a few weeks now and yet she hadn’t missed home once. She was always convinced that remaining in Brisbane would have meant the withering of her. There was too much of her past there and she just knew she would have never escaped it.

But, no matter how far she travelled, there was a fear always hidden inside of her that painfully reminded her how easily she could have slipped and ruined her life again.

So easy. So tempting.

“Hey, there,”

She jumped, startled when she heard that voice so close. Erika gasped, placing a hand on her chest as her gaze distractedly lifted on the tall, slim boy approaching her.

“Sorry, mate, didn’t mean to scare ya,”

Erika focused her attention on Kyle and melted into a smile, shaking her head. “Please, don’t be sorry. I was miles away.”

He approached her with a soft smile crossing his fair features. He looked like an elf, with his sharp edges, high cheekbones and glimmering, light eyes. There was something about the boy she was attracted to like a magnet. She couldn’t explain it but she couldn’t take her attention off him either. Although she didn’t trust herself enough to let herself go in that feeling. She and boys weren’t a good match. Her past was full of bad decisions and she had no intention of making another one.

Especially with a pretty, sweet boy like Kyle seemed to be. Especially since he was so close to Mark not only as his colleague and team partner but being taken in like a little brother as well. She just couldn’t risk it.

“Can I sit?” He pointed at the chair to her side.

“Of course,” Erika nodded, trying to shake the cringe off herself. Her skin rippled in goosebumps only thinking about having him too close. She couldn’t think too clearly when he looked at her, which was just ridiculous.

He dropped his bag with his ring gear on the floor and fell heavily on the little chair distending his long legs. “So, what do you think about the show?”

“I think it was great!” Erika smiled, looking at him and damning herself for the excitement it gave her to share a moment alone with Kyle. She felt the butterflies in her stomach warming up. “That move you did,” she tried to regain focus, looking back on the ring, “off the top buckle? That was so good!”

“You think?” He wondered following her eyes to the ring. “I thought I landed badly and everyone noticed.”

“Well, if you did, I didn’t see it.” Erika didn’t mention how closely she was looking at his moves. She cleared her voice, lifting her professional camera. “I took a cool shot of your front flip mid-air, wanna see?”

“Hell yeah,” Kyle scooted closer, looking over her shoulder as she fiddled with her camera.

Erika tried her best to remain calm and not react to his closeness but it was hard. His scent was inebriating, he smelled of clean linen and lavender. It made her mouth water and her hands shake with the desire to push her face into his neck and inhale.

She shrugged off a shiver, concentrating on the dozens and dozens of pictures she was scrolling through and then smiled when she finally found the one, showing it to him from the small camera screen. “There it is. It will look a thousand times better once I develop it. But even like this, it looks pretty good.”

“Shit me,” Kyle attentively took her camera into his hands, handling it with care as he looked into the screen, examining the picture she took. “Is that how I look when I do it?”

Erika nodded. “Cool uh? You look very good.”

“Could I have a copy of the picture once you develop it?”

“Of course! I mean, I generally do give the guys I work for a hard copy and a file copy that I share with the wrestlers too. So, you’ll be good to go.”

“Can I have a look at the rest of the pictures?”

“Yes,” Erika cleared her voice, “I mean, I haven’t peaked through them so most of them will be off-focus or blurry but sure.”

As he pressed the little arrow button, starting to look at all the pictures she had taken of the evening, Erika slowly started to feel a warm feeling spread through her. She was suddenly fidgety, wondering what went on in his mind as he looked at what she could do. It was somehow intimate, showing to him. Erika’s pictures were used by companies and wrestlers alike on their socials, but no one knew it came from her, there. This felt like Kyle just had access to a very personal window of how she viewed the world.

“Wow, you are good at this,” Kyle smiled distractedly, still scrolling through her work. “These are so good.”

Erika blushed. And immediately froze, feeling panic settling in her nerves. She looked away, imposing herself to find some control over her emotions. She had never blushed before, not for a boy anyway.

“Thank you,” she pushed her hand out, hinting to him to give her back the camera. “It won’t take me long to get the pictures fixed up and printed, so you can see them once they are done.”

“Do you have a studio?” He wondered with interest stretching on the chairs by his side.

Erika shook her head. “I will in a few weeks. I am trying to get a lease on a tiny hole of an office from where I’ll be able to work. I am planning to have a proper dark room and maybe even a desk space to hire an assistant. But for now, I am doing it the old-fashioned way,”

“What’s that?”

“My laptop.” She explained shrugging, “It’s a bit of a hit or miss kind of job, sometimes it pays well, sometimes it doesn’t. But I think I can make it work better If I get access to an office space.”

“Like an investment.”

“Yes,” Erika smiled, appreciating his care to know details about her more than what she was supposed to. “Exactly that.”

“Are you coming out with us tonight?” He then wondered leaning his head to the side.

She felt his eyes on her and wanted to bask under his attention. She had never had a problem with that. Generally, she thrived when she was under the spotlight. She was a very confident young woman aware of her appearance. Maybe too much, sometimes. She had won many things, in the past, because of her pretty face. Especially hearts. She was used to having it her way, but when she decided she wanted someone there wasn’t escaping it. Except with Kyle felt different. She didn’t want to conquer him or win him over. She liked him. Not only his appearance, even though his large smile made her feel things she had never felt before. The real deal was the kindness of heart he had; he was so polite in the way he behaved, and he wore his heart on his sleeve and wasn’t apologetic about it.

Plus, he was spoiling her. Kyle made her feel seen and listened to in ways she wasn’t used to. Which said a lot about the relationships or situationships she had in the past.

And that was precisely why it was so dangerous to play with that fire and she did everything in her power to fight against it. She could see it would lead to ruin for all parties involved.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” She looked away, sadness settling in, aching in her chest.

She wanted to go. She wanted to spend some time socialising. She wanted to be around him. But precisely because he seemed to want her there, she was better off staying away from booze and pretty boys.

“What!? Really? There’s a darts tournament between the guys, sure you want to miss that? I mean not to brag, but I’d beat you at darts.” He winked.

Erika felt flushed. “I’d love that because I think I might be good a darts” she damned herself as soon as she said that, “But I have an early train in the morning. Can’t miss it.”

“Oh, I see. Well. that’s a shame,”

“Next time, maybe?”

“You are on.”

“Oi,” A deep, thunderous voice echoed through the empty venue. Both she and Kyle jumped on their seat, turning over to find Mark waiting. “Ready to go?”

Erika huffed, looking over at her brother studying them. He didn’t seem too happy and she knew why. So, even before he could say anything, she jumped up and grabbed her back and jacket, putting some distance with Kyle.

“What were you doing?” He wondered quietly once she was close.

Erika shrugged. “Nothing, we were waiting for you.”

Before he could say anything more, Kyle approached her side and the two exchanged a fist bump. Mark didn’t continue, but she could see the concern hiding in his gaze. And it hurt her.

Mark hid behind a smile as he welcomed the boy, “Hey, mate,” he was so affectionate to Kyle that it made her heartache. She was happy they met. Kyle was a good friend to her brother. But, again, that was yet another complication and another reason for her to stay as far from the Aussie as she could.

“I’m gonna head home,” she started, hinting at the door as she fixed her bag on her shoulder.

“Yeah?” Mark looked at her, “I thought you were coming to the pub?”

“Nah,” Erika shook her head. She wished she didn’t but her gaze wandered on Kyle briefly. “I am quite tired. I think it’s for the best.”

“Okay,” Mark pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead. “Grab a cab though. I don’t want you around the underground alone at this hour.”

“I’ll call one now. You boys go ahead and have fun. I’ll leave the light on in the hall for you when you come home.”

She watched them approaching the venue door. Mark pulled Kyle under his arm as they walked and they merged with some of the other wrestlers on the show that same night. A few of the boys waved goodbye at her before they left. Just then, she approached the bar counter, releasing a soft sigh.

“Hey,” she hinted at the barman cleaning up, “would you be so kind to call me a cab, mate?” She wasn’t even trying to hide her disappointment. Just thinking about all that she may be missing made her heartache. It felt like the more distance there was between her and Kyle, the more she hurt.

Pathetic. She had to snap out of that little crush and get over it. And fast.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he stepped towards her, “can I get you a drink while you wait? On the house,” the boy winked at her. His flirtatious behaviour bounced right off her. His charm too, didn’t bother her.

“Nah, thank you, I am good.”

She could see the barman’s interest following her movements as he leaned on the counter in front of her. He was an attractive man, sure, and she had no doubt his pretty face and that little stunt of chatting up the ladies probably got him places before. She knew it all too well. She was it too. But even though she knew well how it worked and she felt like she should have been fluttered by his attention, maybe even intrigued, it just slid off her without making her feel a thing. If not slight discomfort.

Before he could say or ask something else, Kyle ran back in, approaching her. “Hey, Erika?”

“Yes?” She immediately turned towards him, not even noticing how much her heart and body moved for the Aussie. “What is it? You ok?”

“Yes, yeah,” he nodded, sliding a hand to the back of his neck. He was blushing so sweetly it made her think about strawberries. Though his eyes were bright and sharp as he looked at her. “I was wondering, could I have your number?”

Erika choked. She knew everything wrong with that. It was the same reason why she wasn’t allowing herself to go out. It was why she avoided being around the house alone with Fletch when Mark wasn’t around. It was why she had avoided being around him in general. Except when she didn’t and fell into whatever it was that attracted them like magnets.

It was stronger than her common sense, she was nodding even before she could think straight and kept being selfish as Kyle offered her his phone for her to type her number in.

He was smiling like an idiot. Or maybe it was her.

When he got his phone back, he held it like a trophy. “Thanks,”

“Don’t tell Mark,” She suggested, probably saying the first smart thing in a minute.  

Kyle offered her the largest of smiles and then dashed off.

As he left, she felt all the warmth he brought with him leaving her body and making her feel empty.

“That little prick has balls,” the guy behind the bar chuckled.

Erika smiled, still looking at the door. “That he does.”

“So, how is it that a pretty girl like you is not going out celebrating with all those boys?”

Erika tapped her nails on the wood, starting to feel an itch under her skin. She wanted to be vague, she knew what was the polite, British way of just generally saying stuff without actually saying anything to strangers. But she was too tired for that too. Politeness hardly got her anywhere.

“Well, let me tell you,” She began, “Got a crush on that little prick,” she vaguely pointed at the door, “he is my brother’s best friend and I can’t afford to fuck that up so,” she huffed, “I am staying well clear and doing everything in my power to get over him.”

“But you just gave him your number.”

“Yes, I never said I was smart at it.”

The guy behind the bar smiled. “I’m Matt, by the way,”

“Erika,” she said as they shook hands.

“So, Erika,” he looked up at her, hitting her up with a gaze she was sure had conquered many hearts before, “Want some help forgetting about the little prick?”

The proper way was to politely decline, get a cab, go home and do her best to accept going to bed alone. That would have been the new adult, mature way to deal with the situation. She was well aware of what was expected of her. But still chose otherwise.

The comfort of her old ways, knowing exactly what would have happened and how she would have felt was much better than knowing how much she was going to be eaten up by regrets, alone, in her little room.

“What time do you get off?” She wondered melting into a smile.

She didn’t much care for the guy himself. But he offered a distraction and it seemed like a valid idea not to think about Kyle.

“Half an hour.”

She nodded and took a seat on one of the stools, “In that case, I’ll take that drink, thank you.”

February 2018

A few weeks later, Erika stood in the centre of the small room she could call an office.

The place was a little dishevelled. It was dark, cold and a little dump; the rent was overpriced, but it was hers. The walls could have done with a new touch of paint, and she was convinced the space would have looked much more welcoming and personal with pictures hanging up; the carpet seriously needed a deep cleaning, and the sad curtains by the windows needed to be retired, but she still looked at it with the most pride.

A smile crossed her lips, and her heart was leaping out of her chest as she toyed with the set of keys the agency gave her. She still didn’t feel secure enough to trust her dream coming true, but that was a pretty big step forward compared to where she had come from only six months before.

“Hey-o,” she recognised Kyle’s voice immediately as he chirped from the entrance door, “anybody in there? Erika?”

Her heart jumped out of her chest.

“Come on in!” She welcomed him, skipping back to the door where she found the Aussie. “What are you doing here?”

As soon as he saw her, he whipped out a massive smile and pulled, from behind his back, a big bunch of colourful flowers and a bottle of bubbles. “Well, I thought the situation required celebrating!” He offered her his presents.

Erika’s chest tightened as she took the flowers and brought them up so she could smell them. Then she took the bottle too, looking at it with interest. She melted into a sweet smile, immediately damning herself for what she was feeling.

Whatever tied her to Kyle only got stronger and deeper day by day. She tried to fight it. She tried to deflect and lie to herself, pretending that ignoring it all was enough to make it disappear. And yet, Kyle was constantly there to remind her how wrong she was.

She just needed to look at him to feel a magnetism pulling her towards him, making her hands tremble with the need to touch him. But it was a constant battle she fought, leaving her feeling cold and empty every time she denied herself her wish.

And yet, he kept coming. He kept being there, around her, everywhere, even when they were far from each other, she still felt him. Every day he made it a point to wish her good morning and good night. He’d ask her about her day and listen with interest to everything she had to say. He’d make her laugh. He’d give her compliments. He was just present in her life. How she wished she could say confidently they were only friends.

But friends didn’t desperately wish to kiss each other.

Thinking about that made her realise she was looking at his lips and she had to force herself off the thought.

“Thank you, Fletch, this is so sweet of you,” she looked up at him, leaning her head to the side, “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Why did you think I asked you the address of this place?” He chuckled, “I wanted to make sure you welcomed this new chapter with the right energy.”

Erika smiled, absolutely smitten by him and his selfless, unashamed caring.

“Thank you,” before she could even think clearly and stop herself, she leaned in for a hug. Her intention was for it to be quick and polite. That was what friends did, wasn’t it? She couldn’t be further from the truth.

Kyle welcomed her with a soft hold and, by the time she wrapped her arms loosely around his waist and pressed her face into his chest, the world stopped spinning.

Erika tightened her hold around him, only for Kyle to do the same, taking the initiative to lean his chin on the top of her head, cradling her softly.

There was no salvation after that for her. Erika was toasted. Her heart was beating so fast inside her chest that she was sure he could feel it too. Her stomach twisted as warmth flooded through her, fuzzing her thoughts and waking up a hunger, a desire in her lower abdomen that would only hurt with every second she wouldn’t give into it.

“I wanted to be here for you, today,” he gave away, brushing a soft, intimate kiss on her temple.

Erika looked up at him and Kyle’s bright gaze fell into hers as he dived into her eyes. He was so close his scent was inebriating her senses. He looked so pretty she couldn’t take it.

“Did you come alone?”

Kyle nodded, “Your brother doesn’t even know I am here.”

Erika felt so dirty for lying to Mark.

They had kept a low profile, pretending nothing was going on and they hadn’t spent the past weeks texting. Sometimes they’d text from across the same room and Mark would take the piss out of Kyle for texting his “little lady”, not knowing she was the one receiving his interest. They made a little joke out of it, but Erika didn’t find it funny.

She hated shutting Mark out. He knew everything about her and could read her like a book. But he didn’t know that part. She was terrified of his reaction if he had known what was going on between her and Kyle, which was nothing. She lied to herself too, constantly. Even though the second she found herself around Kyle it was undeniable she was the most clueless of them all.

Erika gulped, looking down at Kyle’s lips again, unable not to, his mouth was so attractive to her. Especially when he was so close.

Kyle dared to cup her face in his palms. Erika sighed, closing her eyes and letting herself go in his soft hold. His hands were big and warm. And she was dying to feel them all over her.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered, so close to her face she tasted his breath on her tongue. A hot shiver crossed her. “I like you, Erika. Been liking you a while.”

“Kyle,” she tried to find some common sense, although only the idea of refusing him ripped her chest apart. “We can’t.”

“Why?”

“Mark,” she was still holding the flowers and the bottle of bubbly in her hands, and even though she was trying to fight for her life not to succumb to him, she didn’t even dare to move an inch away. “He’d never approve.”

“Leave him to me. I am sure if there’s someone he’d like to be with his sister, that would be me.”

“No, Kyle, it’s not you the one he wouldn’t approve of. It’s me. I am not good for you,”

“Let me decide that.”

“You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me,”

“Then tell me. I want to know you.”

Erika chuckled dryly, quickly dismissing him. He would have run away, as far as possible from her if he had known half of the things she did.

“I mean it,” he continued, “I want to know everything about you.”

“You make it so hard,” she whispered, moulding herself in his hold as Kyle softly caressed her jawline.

“I am not hearing a good reason to stop.” He leaned in, brushing his lips on her forehead, “Tell me no and I’ll fuck off. But if you want it too,” as he moved, hovering above her, Erika moved her head, raising her chin only so their lips would touch. “Then,” he continued, whispering so close to her mouth it gave her goosebumps.

Before he could continue, Erika took the worst decision of her life and, dropping the flowers on the floor, she grabbed him by his t-shirt and pulled him down in a kiss, desperately clinging onto him and releasing everything she had stopped herself from feeling for so long. Selfishly taking everything she wanted from him.

Kyle blindly closed the door behind him and then his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His hands ran across her body, feeling her curves, grabbing on her clothes, only to pull her tighter against him.

Unapologetically, Kyle slipped a hand into her hair grabbing a handful and made her bend underneath him, deepening their kiss. As soon as their tongues crossed and his flavour exploded into her mouth, Erika released a soft moan, feeling her body waking up completely.

However, before she could slip into deeper waters of desire and future regrets, Erika gathered the strength to push him off herself.

“Kyle, please stop,” her breath was heavy as she kept her hand on his chest, not to keep him far from her but to feel him.

“Did I do something wrong?” He wondered, checking she was ok.

Erika shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts. Because the only wrong she could identify in that entire situation was the distance between them.

She had a taste. She scratched the itch. That was going to be it. It was going to have to be enough.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. We can’t happen. Please,” her heart shattered into a million pieces seeing the look he gave her. “Please,” she whispered again, almost getting lost in his eyes.

Kyle accepted her choice and let her go, taking two steps back. He leaned picking up the flowers and passed them over to her, shrugging awkwardly. “Here, take them.”

She felt defeated as she accepted the flowers back. She couldn’t bear the idea of seeing him leave and didn’t want to accept them being done. It was supposed to be the way, just severing their little fling or whatever, but she was stupid and selfish.

“Do you want a little tour?” She wondered, hoping Kyle would indulge her.

He didn’t disappoint and melted into a gentle smile, nodding. “I’d love to.”

They held hands as she showed him around, telling him everything about how she envisioned her studio.

March 2018

Erika stood ringside, her trusted camera at hand as she watched the match through its lenses.

The crowd was hot tonight. They clapped and booed, chanted and roared and were generally super involved in the matches, which was something she always loved to see.

Erika moved around the ring, taking every occasion to grab a shot, just like she always did, capturing as much of the energy in the ring as she could.

The two boys going at it right now were new in the company, she never met them before, but that didn’t change a single thing in the way the crowd perceived them. The heel was doing his job, flipping everyone off at any given occasion only to get everyone’s boos up. And the other, being the good guy he was, was there to make him regret it every time.

How she loved wrestling. It was such a theatrical, highly athletic pantomime.

The match ended with the good guy pinning the heel. The crowd went wild. Erika too, smiled, as she kept taking her shots of the guy celebrating.

Then, as the guys cleared out and the announcer moved back to the ring, starting to explain the next match on the mic, Erika moved too towards the wrestlers’ entrance, readying her camera to capture Aussie Open’s entrance.

Of course, she was working for the wrestling company and her work needed to be equally good for all the participants in the events. But she couldn’t help herself from having favourites. The number of pictures she had taken of Kyle and her brother that she had never sold because they were candid shots of two guys and had nothing to do with wrestling was embarrassing. Especially of Kyle’s. She loved taking his pictures. But that was a secret, of course.

Still, she patiently waited there, camera at hand, kneeling to take a good shot of them coming out in their new shiny, matchy gear.

Aussie Open was announced and their music started as they rolled out, basking in the crowd's welcome.

Erika smiled behind the camera, taking her pictures as the two posed and then moved with them to the ring.

Mark and Kyle slipped through the ropes and circled the apron, looking into the room, and pointing at people in the crowd only to get a reaction. They were both talking some shit either to the crowd or to each other, fully committed to their role.

Then, as Kyle confidently strode by the corner she was hanging around, he broke character one moment to look down at her, offering her one of his sweet smiles. “Hey, baby,”

Erika took a picture of him, grabbing that moment for herself. He called her baby now. Not always, but when he did it made her feel warm all over. It was so hard for her not to reach out and touch him.

Mark approached Kyle and landed a heavy hand on his shoulder, bringing him to turn as the announcer presented their competitors. Erika moved around the ring again, towards the entrance, ready to go back to being a hundred per cent professional.

She kneeled by the crowd, exchanging a quick, polite smile with a couple of guys by her side who seemed to be enjoying the show just like everyone else. She leaned ready to take her shots.

And then Erika was stricken. Nothing could have prepared her for the frosty feeling taking over her as the heavy hand of a stranger landed on her ass, giving her an unrequired smack. She felt the stranger’s touch straight into her stomach and it made her twitch as his fingers dared to squeeze on her.

She turned quickly towards him and raised her camera, taking a shot of his face. She acted out of instinct, not thinking about the consequences. It was the only thing she could consciously think of doing. No words were coming out. Not even anger. Just pure, disgusted surprise.

“Hey,” he angrily confronted her, trying to grab her camera, “Cancel that, you bitch. I haven’t permitted you to take a picture of my face.”

She wanted to say she hadn’t permitted him to squeeze her ass either. It was on the tip of her tongue. And yet. Nothing came out.

Erika stepped away, hiding her camera behind her back, feeling something close to fear choke her as the guy stood up, ready to chase her. She truly thought he was going to hurt her.

“Hey, hey, you prick,” Kyle shouted, jumping off the ring, and intervening. By then, everyone’s attention was on what was happening there.

Mark followed Kyle as they both stepped in between Erika and the guy in the crowd, who was proud and drunk enough to face them, even when he was no match for either of the Aussies.

“I’ll break that hand of yours, you cunt,” Mark barked.

Kyle stepped in between them, shielding Erika with his body. “You ok?” He touched her face, looking down at her.

Erika didn’t refuse him. Her hands travelled to his wrists, as she moulded under his touch appreciating his closeness. “Yes,” she huffed, her eyes escaping Kyle’s as she looked back at her brother, making sure he didn’t do anything stupid. “I’m ok,” She then tapped on Mark’s shoulder, “Don’t bother,” she suggested, even though the guys seemed to be ecstatic to receive attention. “Mark? Please, leave it alone.”

“Maybe you should get her to wear something more covering. You can’t blame me.” The guy was drunk. He was mumbling his nonsense only looking for a fight and Erika hated that she didn’t want her brother to give it to him. “When they look like sluts, I say they look for it-”

There was no stopping Mark after that.

Before she could even think about trying and stop him from jumping to the guy’s throat, Kyle scooped her away, trapping her in between his arms, and protecting her. This time, she hid in between his arms, closing her eyes. She didn’t want to see what she had caused.

The crowd shouted so loudly it made her head hurt.

The announcer, from the ring called for security that came through to break the fight and to kick out the people who disturbed the show.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head, “I am sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

Kyle shook his head, kissing her forehead tenderly. “Don’t you dare to apologise,” he chanted to her ear, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Later on, that same evening the mood was off.

After the incident, going back to the regular flow of the show had been difficult. While Kyle and Mark were supposed the be heels and treated as such, the crowd started loving them after they displayed chivalry. Everyone kept asking her if she was ok from that point on. And she hated it. Erika just hid behind her camera the rest of the evening, pretending detached politeness, but didn’t ever move from ringside.

Now they were gathered for a drink and some late food at a local pub just around the corner from the venue where the show took place. Erika sat in her booth enjoying a plate of steaming hot chips as she watched Kyle play pool with two of the boys from the show.

When he smiled, she smiled too, wondering what had been said to make him laugh.

Mark heavily dropped himself next to her, placing his beer and a massive portion of nachos, blocking her view.

“Hey,” she welcomed him with a smile.

Mark was deadly serious. “I know something is happening between you and Kyle.”

“OK?” Erika frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be vague with me, I’ve suspected it for a while. I see the way you two look at each other. And tonight, with the way he protected you-”

“Mark,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “You did the same thing.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me the way you two were hugging was nothing.”

She didn’t look at him. “It was just a hug.”

“I love you. I will always love you. You know that. And believe me, it hurts me to say this. I know I’m being an ass right now, but I want you to stay away from Kyle.”

Every word that came out of Mark’s mouth slashed through her like a knife. It was a painful reminder of everything she had been, everything she had done. Everything her brother had to fix for her. Not leaving any space for the person she was desperately trying to become.

“Why?” She challenged him, gulping down her pain, and looking straight into his eyes.

“You know why. I can’t stand the idea of watching you hurt him. Because you will. Maybe not willingly. But he doesn’t deserve it all the same.”

Erika's chest ached. She looked away, trying to hide away her pain. She wanted to shout and cry and kick, but couldn’t. Somehow, she trusted her brother more than how she trusted herself. It was easier to accept that he must have been right about her. It must be like he said. She wasn’t good for Kyle and would have never been good.

“I mean it, Erika. I’d break the world for you. But I’d do the same for Kyle.”

“You are breaking me right now,” she shook her head and then looked back at him, anger flooding through her gaze, lighting her up. “You think I haven’t tried to stay away? See? I knew you’d end up telling me this and I did. Stayed as far as I could. Pretty difficult to do when we live together, travel together and work together,” Erika shrugged. “But it is as you said. I obviously can’t offer anything better to someone than failure.”

“That’s not what I meant,”

“Don’t you dare try and justify your cruelty. You said it, loud and clear. I am not good enough for Kyle. Thank you, brother, for reminding me.”

She grabbed her stuff and got up, storming out.

Something stirred inside of her. It was an old, familiar feeling of how she was used to dealing with strong emotions from before. Part of her was trying so hard to be better. But she didn’t know how when even her brother, her only anchor in that world, didn’t believe in her.

Anger and pain were easy to suppress or ignore when she was self-destructing, taking everyone else down with her in the process. 

[mister-eames]

Arthur hates cooking. Hates it. For him, it's a chore - a chore he's spent his life trying to streamline, make quicker and easier so he doesn't have to do it. Why spend hours in the kitchen when you can throw something in the oven or microwave and have it do all the work for you? He doesn't get it. Throw in enough chilli or garlic into food and everything tastes the same anyway. If it comes in a packet, it's good enough for Arthur.

He likes cooking for the people he loves though. The people he loves so much that he forgets how much he hates spending time in the kitchen. Baking cookies and cakes for the Cobblets birthdays. Lasagna for Ariadne. Salmon meunière for his mom.

And for Eames.

Once, in a horrific spill, Eames data and aliases get spilled to Interpol and Eames can't make it back to the UK going close to two years until they sort it out. Hack into systems. Pay off the right people.

Eames never says anything, but Arthur knows he feels as if his wings are clipped.

Arthur knows there is no replacing Eames' grannies full english, or the allegedly 'perfect combination' of a pint and pie at the pub - but he tries. He goes all out, trying to perfect a shepherd's pie to a simple chip butty. He fantastically messes up banoffee pie, but it resulted in a weird round of kitchen sex that resulted in his apron needing to be disposed of, but that's neither here nor there. Not all of the food is great, or even close to what Eames remembers, but he cherishes every bite and loves Arthur impossibly more.

Arthur hates cooking. He's not particularly good at it. The effort does not often yield worthwhile, tasty results. But spending time with his loved ones and working to make them happy, even for a meal - well, Arthur likes that very much.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Reflections

Chapter Three

Master List / Real People Master List / Reflections Master List

Pairing: Mia MacAlsdair x Au Tom Hiddleston

Warnings: none, 18+ Minors do not interact

A/N: I apologize in advance should my Scottish/English interpretations be incorrect. I am Canadian playing in a world of my own making. Do not @ me.

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Mia marvelled out the car window at the house. The pictures didn't do it justice. 

It was Tudor style; the white-washed daub between the timber frames, steeply pitched gables, and thatched roof made it easy to distinguish between that and other periods. Brick and pipe chimneys smoked merrily. The casement window glass gleamed with shine and a fresh coat of white paint. 

Two years of Covid and a subscription to Home and Garden Television, along with Tubi and their shows on restoration projects across the UK, apparently imparted lessons that were paying off. 

The door was kelly green with a white climbing rose clinging to the wall. The plant crossed the lintel and spanned the area above the house's main floor windows. Someone had taken great care of the garden, for flowers bloomed in veritable heaps of colour below every window before the well-kept yard spread out in a wash of lush green lawn, meticulously mowed. 

Trees surrounded the property, but she could make out more buildings farther into the grounds, though Jacob - her driver - pulled up in front of the cobblestone path that led from the raked gravel drive to the door. 

"It's bigger than I thought," Mia murmured, allowing him to get the door and her to step outside. The house was triple the size of anything she could afford back in Canada.

The fresh air was crisp and clean, and the sun peeking through the clouds was lovely. She stood and basked, eyes closed, taking it in momentarily before moving away from the car. 

She couldn't help but smile at the unique roof and the fancy thatching. After hours of devouring the shows on home restoration for period properties, she had enormous respect for the men and women who could accomplish such an incredible craft. It was truly remarkable that, after hundreds of years, such material and labour were still used today. 

Before she could touch the doorknob, already in love with the door's colour, it swung open to reveal a short, stout woman wearing a frilly apron. Her hair was flaming red, her eyes emerald green, but her cast of wrinkles bespoke her age. Still, her smile was wide and welcoming, if a little guarded. 

“Camila MacAlasdair?”

"Mia, please," she smiled and held out her hand. "Mrs. Bailey?"

"Ock, we don't shake the hands of family," she huffed, grabbing Mia's wrist and hauling her forward into a hug that should have come from someone the size of Fergus. "Yer wee gran would 'ave taken one look at ye and known ye were Callum's girl. Ye've yer da's eyes."

Mia leaned into the hug - though leaned down was more accurate. "You knew them well?"

"I've been keeping house for yer grandparents since yer da was a wee lad. It was a shame what happened with yer mum. A true shame. Would that they had lived to see ye and tell ye all this themselves." 

Grief tugged at Mia's heart for her lost family. "Yeah."

"Bah!" Mrs. Bailey set her back and lightly patted Mia's arms. "Here I am holdin' ye in the door like an eejit when yer probably puggled. Let's get ye a scran and settled 'afor I go talkin' yer ear off." 

The woman turned on her heel and set off into the house.

"Puggled?" Mia murmured to Jacob, arriving with the first of her bags. 

"She means tired," chuckled the very British Jacob. 

With the thicker accents of the Scots she'd spent the last week with, it was a shock to have Jacob greet her in a voice that reminded her of Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. 

He'd been kind enough to help her decipher a few of Fergus and Ivy's more colourful sayings. 

Your head's full of mince was one of them. Your bum's out the window was another.

"Ah," Mia nodded, wondering if there was an app for deciphering Scottish - and British - English as even Jacob caused her to blink in confusion when he asked if she were 'taking the piss' and had to explain himself. 

She would see about that later. Fergus gifted her a fancy new phone with what he termed better encryption and security. It was also already attached to her household expenses and ran on the nation's phone service.

Mia stepped beyond the threshold and bit her cheek to keep her jaw from dropping. The low-beam ceiling was spectacular! 

Dark wood separated by white dab spanned the spaces between beams that looked like entire trees held up the ceiling. The wood flooring had planks that were so wide they, too, looked like they came from a whole tree. The rich dark brown of the well-loved wood made the house feel so warm.

She stepped into a kitchen right out of a fairytale. 

Expansive windows threw light across the floor, reflected off the pans hanging above the antique stove and glinted on cut crystal vases filled with sweet-smelling flowers. Pots of fresh herbs sat in the window sills. Butcher block countertops ran the length of all the cabinets and covered the island. 

An enormous fireplace occupied one wall, but a pot belly stove sat in the center, glowing a merry orange with the cheerfully burning fire. The mantel was another massive piece of timber, upon which sat a host of - what Mia assumed were - ancient kitchen utensils. They looked neat, some dull or rusted with age, while others carried a dark patina and still more shone with copper. 

Before the fire, a round rug of burgundy and cream anchored two forest green wingback chairs with a small round table between them. It was of caramel-coloured wood, the top a little scarred with age, but it held a tea tray with the most gorgeous bone china tea service Mia had ever seen. 

The white china fairly blazed against the dark backdrop, while the purple thistle and green leaves caressed the curves of the china with delicate brush strokes. 

A small but fancy chandelier hung over the sink, but recessed pot lights covered the ceiling and would likely add to the warm glow at night, though they weren't currently on.

Mrs. Bailey poked a few mounds of dough back down at the island into their bowls before covering them with sunny yellow tea towels.

"Is that bread?"

"Aye. I always make bread on Mondays." There was something in how she said it, almost as if she challenged Mia to say something contrary.

Mia toed her shoes off beside the door and drifted closer. "I always wanted to learn, but Colt said it was a waste of time."

Mrs. Bailey's sharp eyes jumped to her face and the bruises she attempted to tone down. It wasn't easy to hide, not without also covering her freckles, and Mia didn't want to do that anymore. 

"Ye've quite the keeker. I've some salve to help if ye want it."

"Did you make that too?"

Mrs. Bailey burst out laughing. "Naw! I'm a baker and a cook, alright, but I'm naw chemist."

Mia grinned. "I'd love to try the salve. I'm not sure which is worse, the black when it was fresh or the sickly yellow-green it is now."

Mrs. Bailey's brows drew together, and thunder filled her face. "The bloke who did it, he gonna be a problem?"

Mia snorted. "No. I left him in Canada, and he has no idea I'm here."

Her face cleared. "Good. Would've given 'im a good hard smack with a pan for laying hands on a lady."

Mia laughed. "No one has ever called me a lady."

"Yer lady of this house now, so expect to hear it." Again, there was tension behind the words.

Mia wasn't always the best at social cues in the fancy circles Colt aspired to. Still, after years in the foster system, not that she'd lived in any genuinely horrible situations, she'd learned to read people and the tension in their bodies reasonably well. 

Only one of her homes was a bad place where the father drank excessively. He never touched any of the kids under his care, but he often yelled, smashed things, and made threats. She learned quickly to go to her room and stay out of his way.

So when Mrs. Bailey's brows pulled together in worry, and she picked at a crusty bit of dough on the island, Mia attempted to put two and two together. 

"You know, I was thrilled when Fergus told me the house and the people associated with it were taken care of," she said, attempting to appear like she was admiring the pots hanging over the stove and not about to freak out. "I don't know the first thing about a place like this other than it's gorgeous, and I still can't believe I get to stay here. I wouldn't want people to think I would come here and make crazy changes, like fire everyone. It's not in my nature, and honestly, after the last few years, I'm just happy to have a home."

The last came out a bit of a hoarse whisper as surprise tears seared her nose and throat. 

"Ye've had a time of it, haven't ye, Mia?"

She made the mistake of glancing at Mrs. Bailey, compassion in every line of her face, and broke down in tears. 

"There now." The older woman enveloped Mia in a hug and rubbed her back. "Been a hard road, but yer here now. And we look after our own. Ye have yerself a wee greet. Then I'll show ye the house and put the tea on."

Mia sniffled. "Does tea include fresh bread?"

Mrs. Bailey chuckled. "Of course!"

Mia hugged her tight. "Excellent."

~

The house was a dream. 

All the times Mia watched someone restore their period home on television, she'd sighed in longing. However, after the first time she pointed out how gorgeous the craftsmanship of those older buildings was, even the restored barns, Colt snorted in contempt and called them filthy she hadn't brought it up to him again. 

Laying on her back on a beautiful wide bed with a thick white duvet, Mia stared at the crisscrossed ceiling and let the tears come. 

She'd been so blind to Colt's faults, so desperate for love and affection after being alone most of her life that she ignored his red flags. Some, she even turned around and placed on herself as her faults. She'd accepted blame and tried to change herself when he was in the wrong.

Tears dripped down her cheeks, but they didn't last long. She cried for broken dreams and lost love, but she wasn't cynical enough to believe that would be the end for her. Mia would love again, but she'd learned tough lessons and would guard her heart with higher walls next time. 

For now, she would put Colt behind her and move on with her life. It was here, it was new, and though it was a little scary, it was also exciting. 

She sat up, wiped her face, and took in the sun-drenched bedroom. A fire burned in a beautiful iron grate in a modest fireplace between two floor-to-ceiling windows. Cream club chairs offered a welcome seat to soak in the view or the heat. Antique dressers now held the clothing she purchased, as did the pair of wardrobes. And, of course, the same stunning floor of overly wide wooden planks felt like they'd been polished smooth with literal generations of feet. 

Off the bedroom was a bathroom straight out of a fantasy novel. A clawfoot tub sat on a riser within the confines of an alcove beneath a large octagonal window. The plank flooring gave way to large slate tiles, slightly misshapen, clearly hand-hewn. Again, it felt polished beneath Mia's feet. 

A double sink sat in a vanity that looked like an antique dresser, while the mirror above appeared hand-carved or made from the bones of old crown moulding. It was magnificent, with the small wall sconces glowing on either end. 

In virtually every room, some potted plant or vase full of flowers added greenery to the space, and her bathroom was no different. 

She wasn't sure what the leafy plant on the sink was called, but she was determined to learn how to care for them and help out. 

As Mrs. Bailey - first name Cora - showed her around through receiving rooms, drawing rooms, her late grandfather's study, the dining room, and five guest rooms, she introduced Mia to Oliva and Skye. The young women helped with the housework, general cleaning, laundry, and the like. 

Cora explained the two women had received the items shipped from Edinburgh, found the boxes with her clothing, and unpacked them into the master bedroom. 

It felt a little weird moving into what once was her grandparents' space, but Cora assured her the mattress and bedding were new, changed out when they learned she would be coming to stay. Her grandparents' clothing and the like were stored in the attic until she decided what she wanted to do with it. They had yet to bother with the rest of the house, as Mia could add or edit as she pleased. 

So far, Mia was under the impression that her grandparents had impeccable taste. The antiques were glorious and well cared for. What brick-a-brack she saw seemed well chosen and possibly of value. Clearly, her grandmother had a thing for Waterford Crystal, not that Mia blamed her. 

Her grandfather - apparently - carved and painted wooden ducks. The gorgeous creatures were lovingly displayed in his former office, riding the plate rail that ran the room's circumference. 

They had stored her art supplies, works in progress, and finished paintings there. 

Mia vaguely wondered if that was where her talent came from before Cora shooed her along, talking about how the house was fully renovated right before Covid hit, keeping the old world charm while modernizing things like the insulation, the lighting, wiring, plumbing, heat and air. 

She could only imagine the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent modernizing the house while retaining its classic look and feel. 

The house tour ended in one parlour where another potbelly stove glowed brightly beside a burgundy velvet sofa. Skye was there with the tea tray, Olivia a step behind with another of fresh bread, preserves, and a crock of whipped butter. 

Mia intended to invite the women to stay, but Cora shooed them out, sat with a thump on the couch, and made to pour the tea, but Mia beat her to it. 

She wasn't much for superstitions, but her mother always laughed and said, 'the lady of the house poured the tea unless she wanted to end up enceinte.' Mia was eight when she finally asked what the word meant, but she never forgot the way her mother laughed and explained about the silly old wives' tale. Still, it was one of the weird things that stuck in her brain and arose at odd times. Like now, when she realized this was her house. She owned it, lock, stock, and barrel. 

It made her hyperventilate a little. 

Then, as she handed Cora a delicate tea cup, the woman bluntly asked how she got the black eye. 

It surprised Mia, but she told Cora the truth. When an ocean separated them, there was no point in lying to save face or protect Colt. But, as Cora poked a little at still raw feelings, Mia felt the fresh prickle of tears. 

It was only a week—seven days from losing everything to gaining everything. 

Cora made a displeased sound with her tongue and changed the subject, but the thunderous set of her brows said if she ever met Colt, he might become intimately acquainted with one of the cook's larger frying pans. 

She asked instead about Mia's art, and happy to talk to someone about her joy, Mia ate three slices of bread, liberally spread with butter and jam, drank two cups of really lovely tea, and nattered on about what she did and why. She thought it might bore the woman, but Cora's eyes were excitedly bright, though a bit of confusion lingered.  

"Well, ye've all the time in the world to paint now, love," Cora grinned. "Yer grandad had a woodworking shop near the barn that might suit ye if we clean it out."

The idea of it excited her when Cora encouraged her to have a walk around, but Mia returned upstairs to change first. It was roughly six degrees Celsius, and coming out of a Canadian winter when minus forty wasn't unheard of, six degrees was relatively balmy, but Scotland was damp in comparison. Mia learned quickly that you could get rained on at any time. 

Thus, she'd ended up sprawled across the bed, staring at the ceiling, attempting to adjust to the metamorphosis her life went through in a short amount of time. 

Quiet laughter echoed in her head, and she closed her eyes as the gentle touch of a caring hand danced across her forehead. 

Loki was patiently waiting for her to unpack his things. 

Smiling, Mia looked around the room. The dresser across from the foot of her bed was long and low with a vase of fresh flowers but otherwise empty. 

It took very little time to unpack and cleanse the altar and set everything back as it should be. Once finished, Mia admired her handiwork before rummaging through the bags brought up by the maids. A few pretty crystals and a pewter bowl joined her collection, as did two silver candlesticks meant for fat pillar candles. She bought two in vanilla, two in citrus, and two with a cinnamon kick.

For now, she placed the cinnamon-scented ones in the holders, and the others remained wrapped in tissue paper she tucked into a drawer. 

Loki hummed his pleasure, the warmth of it like the summer sun glowing in her chest. 

"I'm glad you like it. Thank you for leading me here."

Here is where you belong.

Mia grinned. Yeah, she felt that, too.

Next Chapter

[consanguinitatum]

Did He or Didn't He? - David Tennant and 'One-Eyed Jacques'

Today my David Tennant exploration thread goes a new direction - instead of his theatre or audio work, today I've chosen to feature one of his oddest performances on film. It's an odd duck, because you can barely see him in it (and only if you REALLY LOOK) because he isn't credited!

This eccentric short film is called "One Eyed Jacques." It's mentioned a number of places on the Net and has been attributed to David, but his name's never mentioned in the credits.

So did he do it? I think so, yes. We'll get to that. But let's first take a look at the film in a lot more detail.

"One-Eyed Jacques" was written by Jonathan Romney, and directed by Romney and Richard Clark, the director of the Doctor Who episodes 'The Lazarus Experiment' and 'Gridlock.' It was produced by Lisa-Marie Russo of Jump Monk Films. Made in 2001, it was one of seven short films which aired on 26 Sep 2002, as a part of Channel 4’s six-part series called “Shooting Gallery.” Hosted by Mark Kermode, the show focused on works of talented new UK filmmakers. 'One-Eyed Jacques' was featured in the episode “World Stories” alongside six other short films: 'Bullet in the Brain', 'Copyshop', 'Bus 44', 'Pourquoi...Pass Keu?', 'Palindrome', & 'Shifting Units'. 'One-Eyed Jacques' was also screened at two film festivals in 2001: the Uppsala International Short Film Festival in Sweden on 24 Oct 2001, and at the Brief Encounters Short Film Festival in Bristol on 14 Nov 2001. It was also screened in 2002 at the International Film Festival Rotterdam (IFFR). As far as I know, it has never been screened or shown anywhere else. The short is about Veronique and Jacques, a couple seated in a fancy restaurant enjoying dinner. When Jacques gets food splashed in his eye, we see his eye is made of glass. When he removes it to clean it, it rolls onto the floor! As it rolls around, we see the world from its perspective. That's...odd, right? It really is. The short used to be on You Tube, but it's been gone for years. I grabbed it when it was still available, so I'm happy to say I've got a copy! Here are some screenshots to prep us for our chat about whether we think DT was ever in this at all:

So: the argument against?

He's NOT CREDITED.

Here are all of the film's credits. The short is subtitled and has a runtime of 3:04. As you see, the listed cast is Nathalie Paris as Veronique, Alain Bourgouin as Jacques, and James Olivier as the Voice.

No David listed.

The argument for?

He IS credited, just not in the film!

In an industry publication by Thomas Riggs called Contemporary Theatre, Film & Television, 'One-Eyed Jacques' IS listed among David's credits. It's noted (red arrow) in the Jan 2007 edition in Vol 75, p. 319.

Now in case you're wondering why there would be confusion about whether he was or was not in the film because you could surely just see his face and there you have it. Well, that's the whole problem. You never SEE his face! So we need to put on our detective hats. You call yourself a DT fan? Let's test that, shall we?

At the very beginning of the short, Veronique is served by a waiter in black pants and a black shirt who's wearing what appears to be a white waiter's apron. Only the waiter’s hands and fingers are visible to Veronique’s right as she hands the waiter her menu. Here are a few screen shots from that moment.

Study the waiter's hand and thumb carefully. At the risk of sounding nutty, we DT fans are familiar with his hands and fingers and the ways they're distinctly shaped from other works he's been in. What I mean is, his thumb...bends...a certain way. Right? And so does this particular thumb! So it's MY belief this is his hand, and he is indeed the uncredited waiter. But what say you?

Really, I think the ONLY WAY we'll ever know for sure is if we go to the source. And that source, my friends, is Richard Clark himself. He could tell us if David Tennant is the uncredited waiter in the short film 'One-Eyed Jacques'. I've tagged him in the Twitter thread this post originally came from, just in case he felt like answering. I'd love it if he would!

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3 || My website Soundtrack for this chapter can be found here

Chapter 61: January 2011

Gerard is still of the opinion that, if it’s going to be wet in January, it should at least have the decency to be snow and not rain.

At least it’s only a drizzle, not a hard, pounding rain. Not that it matters, he’d be out here regardless, but he worries about Martin when the weather gets sloppy and wet. Ever since he got so sick last year, both Gerard and Melanie have tried to keep on top of him to make him take better care of himself. And to his credit, he’s been fairly good about it. But when it’s like this, when the weather can’t seem to decide what season it wants to be and the dampness sinks in, he sometimes gets caught not properly dressed for the weather.

He hurries along the path, dodging puddles and the occasional passerby, until he reaches his destination. There are a decent number of pubs around here, but his aim is not one of the big, flashy ones drawing on the area’s history or tourists. It’s a grimy little hole in the wall, not exactly one you have to know someone who knows someone to find but the kind of place you just skip over on a casual look. Gerard, as he always does, pauses briefly on the sidewalk to look at it. The windows are the old-fashioned kind, beveled glass that don’t really let you see in or out and don’t actually let in that much light either, but the lights behind them are golden, cheery and welcoming on a night like this.

He shoulders his way through the dark green door and into the pub.

It’s not particularly crowded, but then, it is a Thursday evening. Still, there are a few regulars gathered. Technically, Gerard—and Martin and Melanie—qualify, even if they aren’t here every week, or even every month. But it’s where they always go when they get the chance to gather for a pint, and it’s small and quiet enough that nobody knows to find them here, and they’re never bothered. Gerard scans the room as he pulls down his hood. The man behind the bar catches his eye and gives him a smile and a nod, then jerks his head in the direction of the part of the pub overlooking the Thames. Gerard returns the nod and heads in that direction.

Sure enough, Gerard finds Melanie at their usual table, a mug in front of her and a pensive look on her face as she gazes out over the rain-spattered river just outside. The shutters are always open at nights, and on the darker days. She looks up when Gerard pulls out a chair and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Gerard smiles back and sits down. “Got my message, then?”

“No, I’m out drinking on a Thursday evening instead of working on the next episode of Ghost Hunt UK completely independent of you,” Melanie deadpans.

“Touché.” Gerard glances up as a pint suddenly appears in front of him. “Ta, Nancy. How’s the family?”

“Same as always, growing like weeds.” Nancy Kelly, great-great-granddaughter of the First Watch’s original owner, who currently runs it along with her husband, laughs and wipes her hands on her apron. “We’re all waiting on our Sean to come back from his latest run. Business all right at the store?”

“Yeah, I’m doing all right, thanks.”

Nancy pats him on the shoulder before walking off. Melanie watches her go, then turns back to Gerard. “She’s well and truly gone, then?”

Gerard knows she isn’t talking about Nancy. “She’s faded enough that I can get away for a bit, anyway. There’s a book she got a line on down Dover way, but she went out before she could get hold of it, so I’m hoping I can get it and get rid of it before she comes back.”

“Do you know which one it is?”

“It’s called The Cobwebbed Duchess, so if it isn’t the Mother of Puppets, I’ll eat my hat.”

“The topper, or the woolen one?”

“Why would I eat something Martin worked that hard on?” Gerard takes a swig of his drink. “Speaking of, do you know if he’s coming?”

Melanie consults her watch. “Yeah, he should be along any minute. Remember, he’s coming from Chelsea. But he sent me a text when he left.”

Gerard frowns. “If he left on time, he’d be here by now. Did Diana make him stay late again?”

“He didn’t say, but I assume so.”

A couple minutes later, the door opens; Gerard turns around and is relieved to see Martin. He’s even more relieved to see that he’s wearing his mackintosh and a brown tweed trilby (not a fedora, Gerard’s been thoroughly schooled on that front) to keep off the rain. What surprises him, though, is that he’s not alone. There’s a young man with him Gerard doesn’t think he’s ever seen before, shaking out a sleek black umbrella before putting it in the stand by the door. Nancy greets Martin with a smile and turns her cheek towards him; as he always does, Martin kisses it, then seems to introduce her to the young man, who bows and kisses her hand in a very formal gesture that makes her laugh and swat at Martin playfully.

“Is he seeing someone?” Gerard asks Melanie in an undertone.

“First I’ve heard of it.” Melanie frowns. Suddenly, her expression clears, and she stands up as they get closer. “Evan!”

Gerard gets up, too, surprised but not altogether displeased. “Good grief, I didn’t even recognize you there. Ditched the glasses, did you?”

Evan Lukas, whom Gerard hasn’t seen since he still had braces on his teeth, grins broadly and comes in for a hug. He’s a bit shorter than Gerard, but his hug is firm and warm, and he claps Gerard on the back before letting go. “Contacts, my friend. I still have the glasses for when I do the lab work, but on a day like this, who wants to deal with spectacles?”

“Shut up,” Martin grumbles, but he’s smiling too.

Melanie gives Evan a hug, too, and he laughs and tugs her hair playfully. “How’s it going, Miss Celebrity?”

“Shut it, I’m no celebrity.” Melanie rolls her eyes.

Martin takes a seat and glances over at Gerard. “Hope you don’t mind, but…”

“No, not at all,” Gerard assures him. He likes Evan, always has. Probably the only person Martin’s ever dated that he did. It’s a bit of a shame they didn’t work out in a long-term relationship, but they decided they made better friends than boyfriends. “There’s nothing serious going on. I’m just free again.”

Martin nods. Nancy comes over with two more drinks, checks on Gerard and Melanie, and then bustles off. Once she’s gone, Evan leans forward, his smile fading slightly. “You doing all right? I haven’t seen you since…” He gestures vaguely.

“Since the trial,” Gerard completes. “Yeah, I’m all right. And by the way, thank you for offering to appear as a character witness for me. It probably would’ve helped if things had gone that far. But the bookstore is still keeping on and so am I.”

Evan hesitates. Finally, he says cautiously, “I…don’t want to pry. But when I was home for Christmas—I know, Melanie, don’t even say it—I heard some talk. Your…is she…?” He doesn’t seem to know how to continue.

Gerard gets it. Evan was never going to be the head of his family, has been trying to distance himself for years, but he knows the truth even though he’s supposed to have proved himself worthy before he can learn, or something like that; he crept into the basement of his parents’ home and found the secret out shortly before leaving for college, which is probably one of the reasons he and Martin were drawn to each other initially. They’ve filled him in on the basics, but since he’s trying to keep out of that life too, it’s only the basics. Still, it’s a relief to have someone outside the three of them they can discuss this with, and Gerard knows Evan feels the same.

“She tried a ritual,” he says quietly. “Something about her Book. To bind herself to it…I think she was trying to cheat death, or master it or something. But because I didn’t help her, it didn’t…exactly work right.”

“She came back wrong, then?”

“Frankly, I don’t know that she ever really left right to begin with.”

“Blood on the steps.” Evan isn’t really one for swearing per se, not that Melanie and Gerard haven’t tried to teach him. Most of the ones he does use are ones from a fantasy novel he intended to write when he was twelve or so but never got further than the extensive worldbuilding, including the various oaths and profanities and why they’re used. Blood on the steps is probably the strongest oath he uses. He explained it to them once—something about a war and a treaty and how it’s technically a shortened version of the full oath, which is by the blood of the king spilled on the steps of the Palace of the Light—but Gerard honestly zoned out. He wouldn’t even remember the full oath if Martin hadn’t written a poem around it once. “So she’s…what, hanging about? Haunting the shop?”

Gerard hesitates. “Something like that. I don’t…really know how to explain it. But right now, she’s faded, which is why I’ve gathered you all here tonight. When she’s fully…manifested, I guess…I have to keep running errands for her, stay close to the shop as much as possible. She’s still powerful enough to affect things and I can’t risk what might happen to people if I’m not there to run interference. But when she sort of uses her power up—I guess—she sort of fades away into nothing and I’m free.”

Evan blows out a slow exhalation that becomes a whistle at the end and takes a sip of his drink. “For how long?”

Gerard doesn’t give the obvious answer: Not long enough. “Could be a day or two, could be longer. So far the longest it’s been is a week.”

“And she’s worse than she was when she was alive,” Martin puts in.

Evan looks surprised—and maybe a tad guilty. “You’ve seen her?”

“Few times. She about took my head off when I went to pack up a few of Gerry’s clothes so he didn’t have to suffer the ignominy of wearing bright colors because he wore out the two shirts he took with him backpacking Europe.”

“Shut up,” Gerard says without any real force behind it. Martin just laughs at him.

Melanie cocks an eyebrow at Evan. “You thought he was imagining it, didn’t you.” It’s not a question.

“I…maybe a little,” Evan admits. “You’ve got to admit, even for us, it’s weird.”

“You’re not wrong,” Gerard agrees. “And it’s fair enough. She made so much of my life a living horror that it’s probably natural I’d hallucinate her after her death. Unfortunately, not a hallucination.”

“And equally unfortunately, still a horror,” Melanie adds.

Martin raps the table once lightly with his knuckles. “And yet fortunately, not here. Can we please talk about something else?”

Gerard can’t help but laugh. Hopefully Martin knows he’s not laughing at him. “Yeah, all right, sorry. Evan, how are things going with you these days?”

They drift into happier topics—Evan’s studies, Melanie’s show, Martin’s knitting. Nancy refills their glasses and drops off four steaming portions of fish and chips, and Gerard finds himself relaxing further. This is exactly what he’s been missing.

A few tables away, one of the old men who’s been a fixture here as long as Gerard can remember bangs his mug against the table, rises to his feet, and begins singing. “Well, here we are, we’re back again safe upon the shore…”

Evan lifts an eyebrow, obviously trying not to laugh. He gives in, though, when the old man hits the chorus of the song and Gerard, Melanie, and Martin all join in immediately. “So pass the flowing bowl while there’s whiskey in the jar…”

This is one of the reasons they keep coming back, that and the fact that Nancy and Charlie were also willing to be character witnesses for Gerard during his murder trial. They don’t always manage to stay long enough for the beer to hit enough that the singing starts, but Gerard genuinely enjoys it more when they do. It’s nice to get to sing with Melanie and Martin when it’s for some reason other than burning a Leitner. Sometimes, if they stay long enough, the group can manage to convince Martin to sing something on his own, but even if they don’t, it’s fun to join in the choruses.

Martin elbows Evan, who reluctantly joins in the next chorus—his voice isn’t great, but this isn’t the kind of place where that matters much—and Gerard gives him a thumbs-up. For a few moments, he is blissfully, totally happy.

He only hopes it lasts.

[candy-floss-crazy]

USA Fire Truck Food Truck Hire Big Bold and Beautiful.  (Or Big Ugly F**cker) depending on your point of view. Whether you love the look or hate it, there is no denying that this fire truck food truck makes a statement. A BIG statement.  Named ENG9INE and built onto a custom fabricated American firetruck, this is unique in the UK. It is also louder than Donald Trump. Twin air horns, an electronic two tone siren, and a Federal Signals 127db Q siren mean you hear this coming long before you see it. The bottom deck cooking facilities are designed for smaller events upto perhaps 1000 guests. If you need high capacity then the top deck opens up hydraulically giving you an extra 128 sq ft of kitchen. Spartan Monarch Firetruck   For the geeks out there, this is built onto a 1992 Spartan Monarch custom built firetruck chassis. It originally served with Evansville, Indiana's fire department. It was fitted out by KME fire body builders It has a 1250 GPM Hale pto driven pump It has a Detroit Diesel 6V92TA two stroke, turbocharged aftercooled diesel engine set to 350HP, and affectionately known as a "screaming Jimmy" It carries the name of  John W Sanders II after a young firefighter who was killed in 1991 aged just 33.Our fire service theme continues with things such as aprons upcycled from fire fighter uniforms, and condiment dispensers made from pipe fittings. Specification   This has the following; On board 25kw generator system with a 250 litre fuel tank 250 litre fresh water tank 100 litre waste water tank 2 metres x 1 metre LED advertising screen 3 metre rain canopy On board gas system for cooking appliances Multiple electric outlets for cooking facilities and accessories Optional matching support trailer with on board freezer system 4 speaker hifi sound system Digital Menu BoardsPromotional Tours The fire truck food truck lends itself to corporate promotional tours. With massive cooking facilities, acres of body work for wrapping and advertising, a number of digital display screens and a huge 2x1 metre video screen you are sure to get your message across. If you need a street food truck than firetruck food truck hire is the way to go. We can work with you to add the facilities you need such as drinks pumps and chillers, pizza ovens, chip fryers etcWhat area's do you cover? The full UK and Europe. Are there additional transport costs? Unfortunately yes, due to the single digit fuel consumption What food can you serve? Anything except hog roast. Fire Truck Food Truck Hire in Yorkshire, Lancashire, Nottinghamshire, The North East, Midlands, London and the full UK. Read the full article

[airsllides]

airsLLide No. 2428: G-BHMZ, Fokker 27-200, Air UK, London-Stansted, July 18, 1988.

Today, London's Stansted Airport is a busy low-cost airline hub. In 1988, it was still a rather sleepy venture, with some maintenance bases on the one side and a mildly busy passenger apron on the other. The latter served Air UK as a base for domestic flights and regular as well as ad-hoc services to a few selected European destinations, for which it relied on its trusted fleet of Fokker 27s.

Changes were on the horizon, however: The initial construction work for a new, modern and much larger terminal is already underway in the background of the picture, and Air UK has plans to grow a more extensive international network with a fleet of BAe 146 regional jets and Fokker 100 airliners that it will introduce in the early 1990s.

[cavenewstimes]

Sunak dons red apron and gets to work cutting keys on Timpsons visit as he pledges to end ‘sick note culture’

Sunak dons red apron and gets to work cutting keys on Timpsons visit as he pledges to end ‘sick note culture’ Rishi Sunak donned a red apron and goggles as he got to work cutting keys on a visit to Timpsons following his pledge to end the UK’s “sick note culture”. The prime minister today (19 April) announced a new “moral mission” to reform the welfare system, as he warned the number of…

[zenasflower]

Gifts for Every Occasion

In a world of mass produced, uninspired gifting it's easy to fall back on some overdone classics but why not shop local and find a unique present that'll make your loved one feel seen?

If she's an LFC fan then a Liverpool FC beer mat or a cool aluminium water bottle from the team at Good Liverpool are the perfect gifts for her. Or how about a baking class with a local culinary hero?

Gift Vouchers

A Gifts for occasion Liverpool card is a prepaid voucher that allows the recipient to purchase goods or services. It can be purchased from a retailer, restaurant, or online platform and may have specific restrictions. In addition, some cards are redeemable anywhere that the brand is accepted (open-loop).

Whether you’re buying for friends and family or treating yourself, a gift card offers convenience and flexibility. They’re a great way to save time, avoid shopping stress, and find the perfect present for someone.

If a merchant goes out of business, you’re likely to lose the value of the gift card. In that case, you’ll need to submit a claim to the administrator or liquidator of the company. If you bought the voucher using a credit or debit card, your payment provider may have buyer protection schemes you can use to get your money back. You can also use the Small Claims Court if necessary. For more information, see the CCPC’s guide to claiming gift cards.

Experiences

Liverpool isn’t just about the big brands you’ll find on high streets across the UK – this city is brimming with independent shops and cafes. From quaint coffee spots like LEAF to unique gifting stores such as Transalpino and Smudge Boutique, there’s no shortage of one-of-a-kind retail experiences.

Treat the Liverpool FC fanatic in your life to a personalised bottle of White wine featuring their name and a special message designed with the team’s emblem! Alternatively, show your support for the club with a replica shirt or Liverpool-themed Monopoly board.

You can also show your love for the club with a Cheeky Butler in Liverpool, who will serve cocktails in a revealing apron during a girls’ night in! Or get active with a bouncy session of Bubble Mayhen in Liverpool where you’ll be encased in giant zorbs for a hilarious kickabout. This is the perfect activity for fans who are looking for a day out to remember.

Gift Cards

Gift Cards are the perfect present for someone you can't find a gift for, or for those who love to choose their own experience. Give them the opportunity to dine at a restaurant or shop at one of Liverpool's iconic landmarks with our selection of gift vouchers for Heid's of Liverpool, Sweet Treats Ice Cream Parlor and Miller & Carter Albert Dock.

Art and culture lovers will appreciate a gift card for National Museums Liverpool. Whether it's tickets to an exhibition or annual membership, this is the ideal gift for those who appreciate Liverpool's amazing culture.

For those who like to be flexible with their money, you can buy a GiftRocket gift up to $1,000 with the suggestion to spend it at Liverpool. They'll receive it by email or print it out and redeem it at the business they choose, in real time. See how it works here..

Gift Sets

Gift sets are a great Gifts for occasion idea for any occasion. They are ideal for birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries or any special occasion. They include a perfume, body lotion, shower gel and/or shaving balm. They also often include a fragrance tester. These testers have a much shorter life than a full bottle of perfume and so are often reduced in price as they near the end of their shelf-life.

This Liverpool Vodka gift set is a perfect present for any Liverpool fan. This smooth vodka is a great addition to Coke, lemonade or tonic. It can even be enjoyed straight from the freezer! The bottle can be personalised using our live label preview to create the perfect Liverpool gift.

Treat someone special to an LFC pamper gift set that includes a luxurious LFC Spice Wood Scented Candle and a Luxurious LFC Musk Scented Bubble Bath. The perfect gift to help them unwind after a long day at work or school.

[maasbesttiffinservice]

How to Start a Tiffin Service Business from Home?

If putting on an apron, cooking new recipes, and feeding family, friends, guests, and neighbours are your passions, you can become a food entrepreneur by setting up your own tiffin service business or dabba service. Using your cooking skills is a simple and interesting way to make good profits. Maas Best provides the best tiffin service London in the UK.

Many women who are gifted cooks in the kitchen and enjoy throwing dinner parties or organising potluck lunches are making this career choice.

Before you start your tiffin business, you should research the market to understand the customer demands in your city. Then, find out what your customers like to eat and select the dishes you would specialise in. Are you looking for a Vegetarian Tiffin Service Near Me? Maasbest can help you.

You must also consider the recurring costs, including grocery shopping, delivery charges, employee’s salary (if you have any) and electricity. You should also register your business and get a Food Safety License from the FSSAI. Moreover, you need to obtain a clearance certificate from your society or complex.

It is essential that you maintain a balance between taste and hygiene. Hence, you should take measures such as regular pest control, using gloves while packing and cooking and cleaning and sanitising the kitchen regularly. Are you looking for Gujarati Tiffin Service Near Me in the Slough, UK?

In addition, it is advisable to take liability insurance to protect your business from any financial losses. This is similar to the way you take life and medical insurance to protect yourself. However, you must choose an affordable policy that suits your requirements. A tiffin box is a reusable food-safe container. It has compartments that can be fixed into each other and has a latch to secure the lid.

What Is Tiffin Food?

When it comes to what is tiffin food, the term varies. In South India, where tiffin is often served between meals, it generally refers to light snacks or finger foods like cutlets, idlis (rice dumplings), vadas, bajjis and crisp dosas.

It also refers to home-cooked lunches prepared by wives and schoolchildren. It is a very flexible concept that has grown in popularity, especially in the UK, with the growing demand for ‘authentic’ Indian cuisine and street food. Are you looking for Tiffin Service Near Me in the UK? Maasbest provides the Indian Tiffin Service in the UK.

Tiffin is also the name of the box that carries these foods and other Indian food. These are usually tiered stainless steel containers, which can be stacked one on top of another and clamped down from the sides or the top to keep them warm or cold. Many people provide online tiffin delivery.

They are often customised with beautiful hand-painted designs and are a joy to use. Alternatively, they are available in plain steel, which is more practical. You can see the tiffin menu before giving the order.

Today, tiffin is a way of life for many Indians at home and in the workplace. It is a way of eating that is affordable and healthy. The insulated, leakproof containers are the perfect solution for taking food to work or school and can help reduce the need for disposable plastic wrap and bags that pollute our planet.

They are also the ideal choice for children who enjoy the convenience of eating their own meals. They can also be used at home to store leftovers in the fridge. You can get Punjabi Tiffin Service in the Slough, UK.

[themarketinsights]

Meal Kit Service Market Detailed Strategies, Competitive Landscaping and Developments for next 5 years

Latest released the research study on Global Meal Kit Service Market, offers a detailed overview of the factors influencing the global business scope. Meal Kit Service Market research report shows the latest market insights, current situation analysis with upcoming trends and breakdown of the products and services. The report provides key statistics on the market status, size, share, growth factors of the Meal Kit Service The study covers emerging player’s data, including: competitive landscape, sales, revenue and global market share of top manufacturers are Blue Apron , Hello Fresh (Germany), Plated (United States), Sun Basket , Green Chef Corporation , Purple Carrot (United States), Relish Labs LLC , Abel & Cole Limited (United Kingdom), Riverford Organic Farmers (United Kingdom), Gousto (United Kingdom),

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Meal Kit Service Market Definition:

Meal kit service is food business model, where the meal kit service provider delivers partially-prepared food ingredients as well as the recipe to the customers. The meal kit service is adding its value in the market due to its advantages such as time-saving process, lower cost and it reduces food wastage. Additionally, shifting consumer’s preference for home cooking, the rising popularity of meal kit services among the working population and availability of customization as per the requirement are the major key drivers for the market. However, Intense Competition among established players, Lack of workforce for food delivery is hampering the overall growth of the market. Moreover, the rising number of startups and funding from investors due to innovating ideas can create a new opportunity for the market.

Market Trend:

Rising Popularity of Meal Kit Services Among Working Population and Availability of Customization as per the Requirement

Market Drivers:

Increasing Demand due to Lower cost over Out Eat Food

Rising Demand Shifting Consumers Preference for Home Cooking

Market Opportunities:

Increasing Demand as Meal Kit Service saves Time and Cost

An Emergence of New Startups with New Innovations

The Global Meal Kit Service Market segments and Market Data Break Down are illuminated below:

by Application (Residential, Commercial), Product Type (Ready-to-eat Food, Reprocessed Food, Other), Meal Type (Veg, Non-Veg)

Region Included are: North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Oceania, South America, Middle East & Africa

Country Level Break-Up: United States, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Chile, South Africa, Nigeria, Tunisia, Morocco, Germany, United Kingdom (UK), the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, Belgium, Austria, Turkey, Russia, France, Poland, Israel, United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, China, Japan, Taiwan, South Korea, Singapore, India, Australia and New Zealand etc.

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Strategic Points Covered in Table of Content of Global Meal Kit Service Market:

Chapter 1: Introduction, market driving force product Objective of Study and Research Scope the Meal Kit Service market

Chapter 2: Exclusive Summary – the basic information of the Meal Kit Service Market.

Chapter 3: Displayingthe Market Dynamics- Drivers, Trends and Challenges of the Meal Kit Service

Chapter 4: Presenting the Meal Kit Service Market Factor Analysis Porters Five Forces, Supply/Value Chain, PESTEL analysis, Market Entropy, Patent/Trademark Analysis.

Chapter 5: Displaying market size by Type, End User and Region 2015-2020

Chapter 6: Evaluating the leading manufacturers of the Meal Kit Service market which consists of its Competitive Landscape, Peer Group Analysis, BCG Matrix & Company Profile

Chapter 7: To evaluate the market by segments, by countries and by manufacturers with revenue share and sales by key countries (2021-2026).

Chapter 8 & 9: Displaying the Appendix, Methodology and Data Source

Finally, Meal Kit Service Market is a valuable source of guidance for individuals and companies in decision framework.

Data Sources & Methodology The primary sources involves the industry experts from the Global Meal Kit Service Market including the management organizations, processing organizations, analytics service providers of the industry’s value chain. All primary sources were interviewed to gather and authenticate qualitative & quantitative information and determine the future prospects.

In the extensive primary research process undertaken for this study, the primary sources – Postal Surveys, telephone, Online & Face-to-Face Survey were considered to obtain and verify both qualitative and quantitative aspects of this research study. When it comes to secondary sources Company's Annual reports, press Releases, Websites, Investor Presentation, Conference Call transcripts, Webinar, Journals, Regulators, National Customs and Industry Associations were given primary weight-age.

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Definitively, this report will give you an unmistakable perspective on every single reality of the market without a need to allude to some other research report or an information source. Our report will give all of you the realities about the past, present, and eventual fate of the concerned Market.

Thanks for reading this article; you can also get individual chapter wise section or region wise report version like North America, Europe or Southeast Asia.

Contact Us:

Craig Francis (PR & Marketing Manager) AMA Research & Media LLP Unit No. 429, Parsonage Road Edison, NJ New Jersey USA – 08837

[mandyjane-lifedesign]

Creating a Welcoming Environment: How to Make an International Flatmate Feel at Home at University

University life often brings together students from various parts of the world. Data shows that, during the 2021/22 academic year, there were about 680,000 international students attending a university course in the UK. With so many bright minds flying over to our country each year, you’re likely to share your student flat in Leeds, Bristol, or Newcastle with an international flatmate at some point. And welcoming them to their new home away from home is not only an act of kindness but also a precious opportunity to appreciate different cultures and enrich everyone’s university experience. Abodus Student Living, an expert in providing homely student accommodation, shares tips on how to make international flatmates feel at home in a foreign environment. Prepare meals together One of the tastier benefits of sharing an apartment with a flatmate from abroad is that you can experiment in the kitchen. Aaron Kirkwood, Interim Head of Sales & Marketing at Abodus Student Living, said: “Cooking traditional dishes from each other’s country can be a delicious way to bond over good, wholesome food. “If you have a Chinese flatmate, you could tuck into some freshly-made dumplings together. Or if your housemate is from Italy, you could ask them to show you how to prepare an authentic carbonara. “Showing an interest in international recipes and sharing meals with your new international friends can work wonders on their wellbeing. In fact, social eating can help beat feelings of loneliness and isolation, which are not that uncommon when moving to a new country for the first time. “Likewise, you may want to consider putting on your own apron and chef’s hat. Dishing up a meal for your flatmates will make them feel welcomed and appreciated, and they are bound to be very grateful for it. “Be mindful, however, of their dietary preferences or restrictions. For example, some people may have cultural dietary requirements, so be sure to stick to them to enjoy a happy meal together!” Celebrate cultural festivals As well as connecting over yummy dishes, another trick to make your international flatmates feel at home is to celebrate their own cultural holidays. When moving to a foreign country, students may miss out on traditional festivities that are a special recurrence in their place of origin. And while they may not show it, they might feel sad about not being able to experience those unique moments with family and friends back home. So, if you are aware of any cultural festival coming up, think about organising your own celebrations. Whether it is the Brazilian Carnival or the end of Ramadan, making an effort to remember your flatmates’ cultural holidays will surely bring a smile to their faces. You can dress up in colourful clothes, set up a little banquet in your living room, or boogie to some traditional and folklore music. This is the perfect way to learn more about different cultures and traditions while also creating fun and unforgettable memories. Explore the local area Once you’ve settled into your new accommodation, it is always a good idea to spend some time exploring the city and local area. Visit the attractions, parks, pubs, neighbourhoods, and venues – and don’t forget to ask your international housemate to tag along, too! Moving to a new location is an exciting experience, but it can also be a bit daunting when you first arrive, and even more so if it is in a completely different country. So, this is a great opportunity to discover the local community with your new pal and find out what the town has to offer. As you navigate its streets and locals, you can point out supermarkets and popular restaurants to your international mate, making it easier for them to know what’s where. What’s more, you might want to organise a day trip to the countryside together. If your housemate has never been to the UK before, they might ignore the sandy beaches and rolling hills that make our country so beautiful and fascinating. Share study tips Education systems across the world operate in their own unique ways. From seminars and lectures to exams and grades, there may be a number of aspects that differ from other universities around the globe. To help your international flatmate ease into university life and hit the ground running with their academic duties, think about providing them with study tips and sharing useful resources. For example, if their first exam is a written assignment, you may want to recommend a handy guide or talk them through what makes a good essay in the eyes of a British teacher. You could also offer to check their drafts and highlight any obvious mistakes. Remember that, in most cases, English won’t be their first language, so there may be a few grammatical imperfections here and there. Helping out your flatmates with their coursework, where possible, will increase their confidence and allow them to perform to the best of their ability. Likewise, if you need any support or advice, don’t hesitate to ask for their suggestions and opinions, too – they will be more than glad to give you a hand! Be supportive and understanding Living away from your family home can take its toll on your mental health. While university life is usually busy, fun, and entertaining, there are moments when it all gets a bit much, and you start missing your parents, siblings, and friends. If you’re feeling this way, don’t worry – it’s completely normal! In fact, as many as 70% of freshers experience homesickness within a few days of joining university. Sometimes, these sentiments might be even stronger and more frequent for international students, as the distance that separates them from their families is way larger. So, if your flatmate is feeling under the weather, try to be supportive, patient, and understanding. Offer a listening ear and encourage them, if they feel like it, to let out their emotions. And if you miss your loved ones and being back home, don’t be shy and let them know. This way, they will realise that you are all in the same boat and that feeling homesick from time to time is perfectly fine! Photo by Mimi Thian on Unsplash Sources https://www.universitiesuk.ac.uk/universities-uk-international/explore-uuki/international-student-recruitment/international-student-recruitment-data https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/articles/eating_together https://www.whatuni.com/advice/student-life/coping-with-homesickness-at-university/48326/   Read the full article