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raindancer2004 · 3 years

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Second Chance at Love

Word Count: 1,683 Marcus x reader Oneshot Warnings: Fluff, NSFW

NSFW Prompt: nsfw promt # 4 with marcus please and thank u For @marcusofthevolturi

Y/N met Marcus when she came to work at the castle as the new Nurse in the Castle’s Medical Wing after the previous Nurse got eaten by one of the lower guards when he woke up mistaking her for his ‘donor.’ The guard was in the Medical Wing for two weeks after a particularly unfortunate fight with a newborn where his left leg and both arms were removed completely, his head and neck cracked.

Heidi knew Y/N from the local hospital and she came highly recommended by Heidi’s doctor friend Dr Jones. Heidi explained to Y/N that the job was based at Castillo Volterra and came with a very generous salary, one month’s paid vacation and on-site accommodation. Heidi also mentioned that there would be quite a bit of down time too due to the occupants of the castle.

Heidi got Demetri, Felix and Santiago to help Y/N pack up and move her stuff from her apartment and into the Castle. Her room was situated in the East Wing of the Castle, where the Medical Wing was based along with Marcus’ rooms.

Aro and Caius met her on the day she moved in, Marcus was having a ‘me’ day. His brothers and the four elite guards knew what that meant; he wanted to be left alone as it was a particularly hard day for him.

Y/N had been at the castle for two days when she met finally Marcus, she had gotten a little lost trying to find the Castle Library and quite literally bumped into Marcus “Oh, I’m sorry” She mumbled her apology as she stumbled back, strong arms catching her before she could fall to the stone floor. “No need to apologise my dear, I wasn’t…” He trailed off as his ruby eyes met Y/C eyes. She smiled up at him “Y-you’re Mar-Marcus” She stuttered “Yes, I am my dear and I’m guessing you’re Y/N” He replied and she nodded “Where were you going?” He asked curiosity shining in his eyes “I was trying to find the library but I didn’t get very far” She chuckled lightly and Marcus chuckled too “How about I take you to my private study? I have some books that might take your interest” She nodded and looped her arm through his when he held out for her to take.

Everyone in the castle noticed how close Marcus and Y/N were becoming, for he would visit the Medical Wing often despite not needing any medical attention. He would accompany her on her walks around the castle gardens and would often lend her books from his private collection. Marcus knew who Y/N was to him but didn’t dare hope that she was truly his; his second chance at love and a happy ending.

Demetri encouraged him to talk to Y/N about being his mate “You deserve to be happy master and if fate has given you a second chance, grab it. Claim her, love her. After all she was born to be with you and only you.” Marcus smiled at the tracker “Thank you Demetri. I’ll be honest, I was a little worried about claiming her as I couldn’t go through losing another mate” “I wasn’t here when you lost Didyme but I’m here now and I have already committed her tenor to my memory and as your personal bodyguard I will help you protect her” Demetri vowed and bowed his head “Thank you, that means a lot” Marcus replied with a smile.

Y/N accepted Marcus as her mate but insisted she be allowed to remain working in the Medical Wing. Marcus agreed but on the condition that they hired a second Nurse, one that wouldn’t missed should an ‘accident’ occur. Y/N agreed although she felt bad about the circumstances the other Nurse was being hired under. Y/N and Heidi interviewed the new Nurse candidates although Marcus sat in on the interviews. They hired a male Nurse called Leon, much to the delight of the single female vampires in the castle.

“So brother how are you and the lovely Y/N getting along?” Aro asked “She’s a real Nurse with the uniform and everything, I think they’re getting along just fine” Caius answered before Marcus could, with a playful smirk on his lips. Aro chuckled “Not quite what I meant but judging by the goofy smile he has on his face I’d say you’re onto to something brother” Aro said looking at Caius “Y/N and I are very happy and our sex life is not up for discussion” Marcus informed his brothers.

Y/N found her mate in his private study “It’s late my love, will you not join me in bed?” She asked softly as she entered the room, Marcus looked up from his papers “I’m sorry my dear, I lost track of time. Forgive me?” Y/N shook her head a little a small smile playing at her lips “Come here, let me make it up to you” He replied pushing his chair away from his desk a little.

Y/N walked over to her mate and he pulled her down onto his lap so she was straddling him. Marcus placed his hands on her cheeks and gave her a sweet kiss. He pulled away slightly to allow her to breath before capturing her lips again and gently bit her bottom lip. She parted her lips a little and he slipped his tongue inside her warm mouth, their tongues moving in sync with each other whilst fighting for dominance too. He moved his hands to her waist and pulled her closer to him, she felt his hardening length beneath her and moaned into the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and grinded against him. It was his turn to smile into the next kiss. “I want to bury myself deep inside you before I hold in my arms for the night” He whispered, his voice seductive and eyes black with lust “Come on then my love. Let’s go to bed” Y/N winked at him and went to get off his lap but he stopped her “Forget the bed…let’s do it right here” He moved his hands to her thighs and slid his hands upwards disappearing under her blue silk nightie “No panties…how naughty of you” He purred in her ear “Figured it would save you ripping yet another pair from me” Amusement clear in her voice “Very thoughtful my dear.”

Marcus lifted Y/N from lap so he could remove his trousers and boxers freeing his erection, which stood proud against his stomach. Y/N perched herself on the edge of his desk and eyed him from head to toe, eyes lingering on her mate’s hard cock as she took her bottom lip between her teeth “See something you like my dear?” He asked, voice low in the quiet room “Yes my love” She stepped forward, pushing him back so he sat back down on his desk chair and climbed on his lap. She wrapped her warm fingers around his cock and ran her hand up and down his length a few times, her thumb swirling around the tip. She guided his cock to her entrance and sank down slowly until he was fully inside her, soft gasps leaving them both as she tilted her hips slightly to ensure she took all of his nine and a half inches.

She moved her hips slowly over and over again watching as his eyes closed and a warm smile graced his lips. She kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip and he parted them to grant her access; their tongues moving against each other like a slow sensuous dance. She lifted off of him so only the tip of his cock was left inside her and she sank herself back down hard, they both moaned loudly in unison as she proceeded to be a little rough with him.

His hands squeezed her ass gently “Still so tight and warm” He purred into her ear “Still so big and thick” She whispered back; a low chuckle left his lips before he captured hers in a passionate kiss and placed his hands on her hips taking control and began lifting her off his length and back down again setting a steady pace. “Oh…Ahh” He loved hearing every moan and mewl that left her lips.

She felt him pull out of her before slowly re-entering her; filling her deeper with every thrust “Yes…yes” She breathed out, her eyes closing. Her hands moved to rest on his shoulders and he leant in to kiss her. He kissed along her jawline to her neck as he continued to thrust up into her. She pulled back slightly and began leaving kisses on his shoulders working her way up his neck to leave a kiss below his ear before gently biting his earlobe. He growled and thrusted back inside her hard “Marcus” She cried out and again he thrust up into her hard continuing this new pace as he could sense she was getting close to her release.

He took both breasts into his hands massaging them gently; thumbs brushing her nipples lightly, a satisfied sigh falling from her lips as she felt herself on the edge her release. A few more hard thrusts and brushes of her nipples and she felt herself fall over the edge as her walls clench around his hard length. “Marcus” She cried out as she came, her vision cloudy as she felt him fill her up with his cold seed. “Y/N” He called out and continued to move within her, riding out their highs together.

“I love you Marcus” She whispered, her voice sounded sleepy “And I love you Y/N” He said softly and held her in his arms, his still hard cock buried inside her as she fell asleep. They stayed in that position for some time before he carried her back to their shared room, gently cleaning her whilst she slept. Once he had cleaned himself he climbed into bed beside her and held as she slept for the night, silently thanking the gods for his second chance at love.

#marcus volturi #demetri volturi #felix volturi #jane volturi #alec volturi #aro volturi #caius volturi #heidi volturi #volturi #twilight #oneshot

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years

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the great trial part one

summary: This was meant to be the easy part. The part filled with brightness and love. The war was over and you had the love of your life all to yourself. No more Baatar, no more secrecy and no more lies. But with the calm comes the realization as all the adrenaline finally leaves you. Now you know, this is the hard part.

a/n: So remember when I said I wouldn’t post anything until the sequel was done? Well it turns out I need validation to thrive and would love peoples feedback on the series so I’ve decided that I am going to slowly release what I currently have while trying to finally finish what’s left. Thank you to @medeliadracon for beta reading this and @ladyxffandoms for being such a big help! This wouldn’t nearly be as good without the two of you.

This is the sequel to the great divide series.

word count: 4k

That first month in your new apartment is probably the worst. You guys were able to find a small one on the bottom floor of a complex. It had a small side garden with a lemon tree and vines growing up the side of the building and your dad was already talking to about all the flowers you could plant together.

Suyin put you on house arrest as well which caused an uproar with not only Kuvira, who offered to take your year for herself, but also your parents. You would be stuck inside for a year whilst she would have to stick it out for three. Kuvira hated how you were paying for her actions, she didn’t see how wrong it was for you to turn a blind eye for three years. No one knew the pressure she put you under.

Your parents offered to pay the bills. They were comfortable enough with your mom's Lieutenant salary and with your father's popular flower shop. They even bought you guys furniture and upon your request paint to personalize your first home.

Somehow once that front door shuts, leaving you both inside with furniture randomly stacked around in the living for the both of you to organize along with paint cans and boxes of your belongings, the room feels like the air has been sucked out of it. You’ve dreamed of this day for years and it isn’t going at all how you planned.

She doesn’t get what the big deal is, she’s just happy she’s not stuck in a prison cell. That frustrated look on your face is new and with a sharp reply at some snappy comment you made, she realizes she doesn’t like it.

Kuvira gets pissed that the couch is too heavy, the paint isn’t the right shade, and even though she claims she doesn’t care it’s what you’ve dreamt, and dammit you deserve for it to come true. A plate cracks, silverware is dropped, the bookcase is too small for all your childhood books and one of you (Kuvira) already managed to scuff up the floors.

This, the after, is meant to be the easy part. There aren't any more battles or secrets, train rides, or negotiations. It’s the two of you in your first apartment and this day is supposed to be a happy one. This is meant to be a peaceful and happy day with stolen kisses as you lazily unpack. You’re meant to be starting over and it’s not supposed to be so difficult.

The sun has gone down and the lights dimly illuminate your disaster of a living space. Nothing has been accomplished. You grip the roots of your hair as the paint issue is once more brought up “why does it matter? It’s a decent color!”

“Because it’s not what I envisioned!”

“Well, we can’t always get what we want! What, are we going to have your parents return it?” Spirits! She doesn’t get it, your vision of the future was sacred, something you held tight for all those years. It has to be at least slightly like you imagined it, and this isn’t right.

To Kuvira, your behavior is starting to remind her of a spoiled child upset about not getting the last piece of candy.

“You don’t get it! It matters to me, we’re gonna be living here for the next three years. I think we should at least like what we put on the walls!” You storm away, slamming the bedroom shut behind you. There aren’t many places to hide here, all the main living space is combined along with a very small bathroom, one wall is completely windows that show the small garden and by the kitchen is the door to the bedroom.

Kuvira stands frozen in the living room, slightly flinching as the door slams shut. She understands that there will be a rocky adjustment period. She admitted that day in the tent that she needs to work on the way she treats you.

But she didn’t expect it to go south so fast. While you have your version of how today is meant to go, so does she. Kuvira hoped today would go along smoothly, she didn’t care about the furniture or walls, she simply wanted to peacefully start off your new life together on a good note.

You aggressively rub at your eyes as you feel tears of frustration well up before sitting down on the edge of your bed. That’s at least one thing that seems to be working out, all the beds you shared in the past were rather small (besides the one in the Beifong estate) so it was a relief to see them carry in a queen-sized bed for both of you. You lay down over the covers and sighed. Tomorrow will be better, you tell yourself.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, you just planned to lay there and stew in your emotions a bit before getting up and trying to talk it out. So when you awake with a start, your hand immediately goes to search for that familiar body. You choke out a sob as you find the other side empty. Momentarily forgetting where you are, you begin to cry as you wrap your arms around yourself. The words “what did I do?” leave your lips.

You bring a hand to try and stifle the sound as your lungs squeeze out all the air it can. The room feels so small and the darkness of the night so terrifying.

There’s the sound of shuffling from the other side of the door before someone opens it up, Kuvira looks at you, her hair a curly mess from sleep. She squints, still half asleep before hearing you let out a whimper. She walks over, crawling onto the bed until she’s in front of you, her hands come up to move your wrists as you continue to try and muffle the sound. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?”

Your eyes shoot up to hers and you throw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “You weren’t here,” you cry. Kuvira’s eyebrows shoot up at your words before wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to try and offer you some kind of comfort. “I thought…” you sniffle, “I thought we were back on the train.”

Suddenly Kuvira feels anger flame within herself but it’s not directed at you but her because she’s the reason you're crying. “I was just sleeping on the couch, no one else is here.” Baatar isn’t here. You grip her shirt for reassurance, the fear within you stays and it makes your joints ache with anxiety as you remember all those nights alone. “I thought you wanted to be alone.”

This side of you is brand new to her and so heartbreaking. She can feel the pounding of your heart and a part of her is worried it’ll break out of your chest. She’s done this to you, she’s made it so you're sobbing so hard you can barely breathe. As you shake in her arms, she realizes this can’t be avoided tomorrow.

You shake your head, not being able to say anything as you continue to cry. She moves her arms, an act that has you holding her tighter, and moves them to your hips so she can scoot you over so that the both of you can sleep. You seem to understand as your grip loosens just a smidgen as she slowly lays down and, due to your clinging, you follow.

Once on your sides, you wrap yourself around her, needing her to be as close as possible, and tuck your face into her neck. It’s not all that comfortable but it helps slow your heart rate down a bit.

In the morning you seem to not want to talk about your episode, you act as if nothing happened. She always tried to ignore the way you looked after those nights on the train, honestly, she was too busy trying to scrub away the events of the night before to have noticed how truly upset you looked.

But now in the light of day as your unpacking more dishes she notices the bags under your eyes and the unusual quiet in your demeanor. Your movements are stiff as you place the baking dishes into a bottom cabinet.

It’s like you're a shell of yourself, like last night that bright, loving person was poured out of you along with your tears. It terrifies her to see how quickly it can all shift.

“Y/n?” You look up, quirking a brow. “Can we talk about last night?”

You tense up a bit, brushing your hands over your sweatpants. “What about it?”

“About…” Kuvira furrows her brows in confusion, “Y/n I thought you were hurt when I woke up.” You bite your lip, fiddling with the ties of your pants. You don't talk about this, never in the past three years have you talked about things like this with her. It always upset her when you tried to talk about how her actions hurt you.

“Well I wasn't, just startled is all. Can you pass me that box?”

“You were shaking,” Kuvira places her hand on the box to keep it in place when she sees you walk over to grab it yourself. “Is that… Is that what happened every time I…?” She can’t seem to bring herself to say it, so you do.

“Every time you cheated on me?” You place your hands on your hips and sigh. “Just drop it Kuvira.” You rip the box out from under her grasp and walk away. Bile rises in your throat as those pesky images you’d dream up every time she was gone appear in your mind.

You set the box down harder than you mean to and the sound of something breaking has you cursing under your breath. Bolin isn’t here to spar with, to help calm you down with uppercuts and swift kicks to the shins.

Kuvira is stunned, left standing at the other side of the kitchen counter as she tries to make sense of her raging thoughts. Cheated. You're not wrong, but hearing you say it hurts. She never called it that, knowing if she did she’d have to admit what she was doing was wrong. And she could never be wrong, at least not then.

So she called it punishments because then she could justify what she was doing. It’s not like she liked doing it because she didn’t but it seemed to be the best way to control you at the time. It won’t matter if she says that though, she knows it’s wrong and if anything it’ll make this situation worse.

“I-I’m sorry,” she says softly, saying it makes her internally cringe, but she does mean it. You let out a huff, ignoring her as you open up the box. All the adrenaline of trying to save the day has left you, honestly, it left you around the time they slapped that stupid tracker onto your ankle but the lack of sleep and her trying to confront something you’d rather stay buried is getting to you.

When you go to pick up the broken dish the sharp edge cuts across your hand, you hiss out in pain and jerk your hand towards your chest, it’s not a deep cut but it still hurts like a bitch. Blood begins to seep out and the sight of that sickening deep red liquid coating your palm has Kuvira panicking.

Suddenly she’s back in the trunk with her heart in your hands as she watched you bleed out. Her hands feel warm and coated in the thickness of your blood once more. Her heart begins to race, deep in the back of her mind she knows it’s just a small cut but it’s only been a few weeks since you were so close to death.

Ignoring the fight at hand she rushes over to gently cradle your hand and pull it close, you yank your hand out of her grasp, her eyes shoot up to look at you with pinched brows. “I need to clean it, just let me clean it.” Her voice shakes as she desperately tries to take your hand back.

“I can’t…” This furious look settles on your features as you glare into her eyes before storming away towards the bathroom. She turns to follow you, her heart is pounding at the memories pouring out from the box she’s tried to shove them in. “I can’t look at you right now!”

The slam of the door effectively ends any chance of her chasing after you.

A couple of weeks goes by, the walls have now been painted the green you wanted and your dad brought over a second bookcase, then helped move the couch with Kuvira. He stops by often with baked goods and a fresh bouquet to replace the last. After that first day of moving in your mother doesn’t stop by though, he says she’ll come around, that she just needs time.

But Kuvira sees the crestfallen look that takes over your features every time you open the door, and she’s not there. It’s a Friday night, and he’s come over to help cook.

Things have been tense between you and Kuvira, you can’t seem to look her in the eyes. She’s tried multiple times to get you to look at her, but each time you keep your gaze trained on something behind her or her forehead.

What she doesn’t know is every time you do accidentally look at her, betrayal seeps through you as you remember all those nights alone. You don’t want to be filled with anger and hurt every time you look at her, but you don’t know what to do. Saying that word out loud, cheated, has opened a door you kept locked tight, spirits you had built a wall in front of it after that first time.

But now it’s blown off the hinges and fills you up, threatening to spill at any moment. You're sure your dad notices, but he thankfully doesn’t comment. He’s commandeered Kuvira to fill the dumplings, saying “these are her favorite, anytime she got sick or upset I’d make these for her and everything would be okay again.”

You ignore him as he tries to converse with Kuvira, her replies are short and awkward as she doesn’t know how to conduct herself around him yet. Opening up a bottle of wine for yourself you try to work on the broth for the soup, desperately trying to tune her out. You love your father so much and you're happy to be near him again, but you wish he’d just go home.

Meanwhile, Kuvira is loving his company, not only does it force you to be civil, but she gets a chance to get on his good side. She knows how much your parents mean to you and whilst it will probably take a village to get your mother to like her again, she thinks she has a shot with your dad.

“And then! Oh, I think she was five when she realized what her mark meant, it was so adorable she-” Your dad laughs, suddenly you're filled with embarrassment as he continues. “She asked if they would be pretty.”

You know he has good intentions but spirits now is not the time to bring up stupid soulmates. Does he not feel the tension between the two of you? You know that if he does, it’s probably slipped his mind that it’s not over something small. Your parents never had to worry about what to do if the other cheats on you multiple times whilst watching you suffer.

You fill up a glass for yourself, pouring it past the socially acceptable amount, and take a big sip before filling up two glasses for them. Part of you wants to be petty and not fill one up for her but your dad will point it out if you do. That bitter voice in your head reminds you of how Kuvira once shamed you for drinking. Fuck that.

“Between you and me I think she thinks you're pretty so five-year-old her would be very happy.” Kuvira coughs, letting out a chuckle as she shakes her head, not that you see since your back is turned. “I don’t know about that,” is her modest reply.

To hear stories about your childhood feels like a perfectly wrapped present to Kuvira. It makes her feel close to you despite your current circumstances and to hear about how obsessed you were with soulmates makes her want to wrap you up and shower you with love.

But the problem with this story is it makes Kuvira think about all the shitty things she did to you. To hear about all the excitement and joy you showed over one day meeting her has made her feel ashamed of the person you got stuck with. Do you wish someone else was her? Have you ever thought about the what-ifs?

You hear your dad let out a chuckle and say “No, don’t be so negative.” If she replies you don’t hear it, soon after the topic is dropped as they focus back on the task at hand. Your grip on the wooden spoon is so tight you wonder if you can snap it in half. It hurts your fingers and that slight pain offers some kind of relief.

“So you pinch it like thi-”

“I’ll be right back,” you say, leaving the broth to boil as you hastily walk over to the bathroom and lock the door behind you. Kuvira watches you go with a frown, everyday it seems you have to lock yourself away from her. Like her presence is just so unbearable that you’d rather hide in a bathroom and miss out on time with your dad.

You catch the sight of yourself in the mirror and glare back at the unrecognizable person staring back at you. Your face is flushed from embarrassment and there’s this hint of rage lingering in your gaze that wasn’t always there.

You’ve never been this kind of angry person before, you were raised around flowers and cupcakes, books filled with great adventures and laughter echoing through your home. People who’d go to the moon and back for you.

Your mom could get a bit angry at times and when she did she’d go take it out on one of those training dummies at her work. There was hardly ever any yelling in your home and never once did you sense animosity between your parents growing up. This new environment was stress-inducing and it made you want to throw all the glass plates against the wall.

You bring your hands up to your cheeks and sigh. When you were younger you were badly bullied at school for being so quiet, if anything the teasing words and tugs on your hair just made you cave inward on yourself instead of lashing out.

You’d cry into your parent's arms as you asked them why no one wanted to be friends with you and your father helped you find solace in the solitary kind of activities to help bring you happiness.

When you signed up for the dance troupe that was a big step for you, which sounds ridiculous since you were nineteen, but that was something that required being around others and communicating with them. Both of your parents were thrilled at you finally branching out and had taken you to a celebratory dinner after your first practice.

They were your best friends, you looked up to them and admired the love they still evidently held for one another, soulmates or not love seemed to dwindle over the years for most couples. And now you're here, in your bathroom of the apartment you share with your soulmate which should fill you with joy but instead you're on the verge of tears as you try to push down that burning flame within.

If your dad ever cheated on your mom she’d slap him across the face and leave. If your mom cheated on your dad he’d cry so hard, but he’d leave as well. They always told you things like that were unacceptable when you’d tell them about all the school drama (not that you were ever involved in it) and now here you are. Feeling ashamed of all those years when she walked all over you, you wonder what would your parents think? You pull at the roots of your hair, no longer able to stomach the sight of yourself.

You hate all of this and you can’t look her in the eyes but if given the chance you know you won’t leave, and it’s not because of that soulmate bullshit. It’s because of those quiet moments spent in each other's arms when it seemed like the world ceased to exist, where you’d giggle as she’d rub her nose against yours. Where you felt safe and seen and loved.

You want those moments back, you want to not hate the sight of her but it seems anytime you so much as hear her voice you're on edge. You’re shaking due to the wave of anger and sadness that washes over you as you seem to get trapped in your thoughts.

It’s happening more and more, you zone out most days and seem to think of every little bad thing she’s done. It feels like molten hot lava is poured over you every time it happens. The knock on the door makes you jump up in shock, so lost in your thoughts you tuned the rest of the world out.

“The dumplings are ready,” you hear your dad say. You look up in the mirror and internally groan, you’ve made a mess of your hair and your eyes are bloodshot from crying.

“Uhm,” you clear your throat “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay, we’ll be setting up the table.” You nod, not realizing he can’t see you as you try to fix your appearance which is a task in itself.

The dinner is awkward, it consists of spoons gently tapping against glass bowls and your father desperately trying to fill in the silence, he eyes you the whole time, probably expecting a smile to appear because dumplings fix everything, except this time they don’t. She feels bad for your dad, he really is trying to make you happy. Should she tell him it’s no use? That the only thing that will make you happy is probably her disappearance?

Anytime she looks your way you take a sip of your wine, you have to refill it thrice and it seems to drag on for hours despite the alcohol in your system. Kuvira does try to chime in as she tries to get on your father's good side but you are only able to let out nods of acknowledgment or forced chuckles at little anecdotes.

He leaves after helping you clean the dishes, much to Kuvira’s chagrin. With him around, he was a nice buffer for the two of you, a pleasant way to fill the uncomfortable silence that filled your home.

You’ve just finished wiping down the counters when she tries. “Y/n…”

“No.” You immediately reply, heading to your shared room to get in bed before her, like you always do.

A day later your mom finally shows up. She knows this is a private moment and to be honest she fears your mother's wrath. The way she glared at her when she opened the door had her wanting to hide away. She had said something about needing to talk to you, how the dumplings didn’t work which had Kuvira severely confused. But she didn’t question it.

So she lets your mom make tea while she tried to coax you out of the room. By the time you finally leave Kuvira sees that your mother is in the garden, patiently waiting. When you walk out of your bedroom you find her in the garden, sitting at the little iron table they got for you.

You watch Kuvira lock herself in your bedroom as you sit down across from your mom. There're two teacups filled with piping hot jasmine tea and a plate of cookies your father probably baked.

Neither of you speaks the first few moments, you both spend the time sipping from your cups and watching the bustling of the streets, it must be lunchtime.

“Why haven’t you stopped by?”

Your mom sighs as she sets the teacup down, “honestly I just… I have a hard time with all of this. With her and with your arrest.”

“Well, I did stand by while a bunch of horrible things happened mom. I understand why she arrested me,” you pick up one of the sugar cookies and bite into it. That all too familiar anger is bubbling within you once more.

“Yes, but as a Lieutenant of the guard it’s made people deem me unworthy of my job.” You tense at her words, you didn’t know people were giving her grief about your actions. It’s not like she encouraged you to leave. “And… I am just having a hard time getting used to her and everything she’s done.”

“She knows what she did was wrong, she was being cornered in Ba Sing S-”

“I don’t mean what she did to the earth kingdom, I mean what she did to you.” Looking down at the dark amber color of your tea, you slump your shoulders as you think of her words.

“I mean I’ll support whatever you decide but it’s hard for me to look at her knowing she kept you a secret, so she could keep up some charade with that Junior-” you tuck your hands under your lap at his name, trying to keep from clenching them, “and I’ve seen photos of him holding her and even kissing her, none of it is right.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying you look away from her, at the streets that have since calmed down a bit. You focus on a child holding his mother's hand as he kicks up water at the fountain. He’s laughing, his grin so wide it takes up the majority of his features. He looks so happy and carefree. You want that kind of life, wishing you could trade his with yours.

“It was only kissing, right?” When you don’t immediately reply, she continues “y/n what happened in those three years?”

“I…” you snap your mouth shut as you suddenly feel like you're about to cry. You can’t look at her, you’ll know she’ll be disappointed in you. “It was a couple of times to placate him, he’d been getting suspicious due to her lack of affection.”

And I’d angered her in some way, it was usually that.

You don’t say that though, deciding to keep it to yourself. You hear the sound of glass breaking and whip your head around to see the handle of your mother's teacup broken into tiny pieces, the cup slips from her hand and falls onto the table, causing it to shatter. Hot tea splatters onto the table and seeps through the holes within it, some liquid gets on your shirt and you jump back in surprise.

“Fuck, I’m sorry honey,” she says, going to grab one of the napkins to wipe up the excess tea. Her voice shakes with rage and you can see her jaw clenching so tight it looks like it’s about to snap. While she cleans no one talks, what do you even say? So instead you busy yourself by picking up a cookie and snapping it in half, when she leaves you’ll pick up the glass shards off the ground.

“You know…” Your mother clenches the wet cloth in her hand, trying to control her tone. “You know that’s wrong, right?”

“Yes, I do but what am I meant to do?” She opens her mouth to reply but stops herself when she sees the telltale sign of you being on the verge of tears. “I can’t look at her without imagining it but fuck mom I still love her.”

It’s silent for a few beats, you can see the cogs turning in her mind. You don’t know if you want to know what’s going through her head, probably disappointment at your unwillingness to leave Kuvira. She sighs and gently sets the dirty napkin onto the table, her eyes lowered to stare at a shard that has half a panda lily painted on it, the other half had broken off during the fall. The incompleteness of it is sort of beautiful.

“If you want to stay with her, you both need to seek professional help because this relationship is unhealthy and can’t continue this way.” She runs her hands through her hair, smoothing it back as she stares at you, “I can have a friend of mine come over to talk with the both of you, she specializes in things like this.”

“Really?”

“Yes but it’s not something that’ll be fixed right away. From the sounds of it, it’ll take years before the two of you can get to a healthy place.” Your shoulders slump at that, why is nothing easy anymore? Why can’t it go back to cinnamon-scented afternoons while helping your dad at his shop where the most difficult task at hand was tying a perfect bow.

“I’ll do it.”

#kuvira #kuvira x reader #kuvira/reader #kuvira fanfic #lok #lok fanfic #legend of korra #fanfiction #the great trial

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stratharchives · 3 years

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‘The woman at the back’: Miss Wanda Zamorska

The above photograph (reference: OP/4/129) from our institutional collection dates from around 1920 and shows students working in the Botany laboratory at the Royal Technical College (RTC), forerunner of the University of Strathclyde. Whilst the students’ names are unknown, our catalogue entry for the photograph indicates that ‘The woman at the back, wearing a hat, is possibly Miss W. Zamorska, demonstrator in Botany and Bacteriology.’ Standing by the blackboard against the wall and dressed all in black, the diminutive female figure almost fades into her surroundings; yet she deserves recognition as one of the most reliable and long-standing members of the Department of Botany and Bacteriology. To mark International Women’s Day (8 March), this post explores the family background, life and career of Miss Zamorska, highlighting her contribution to the teaching of Botany at a time when relatively few women were employed in the scientific departments of the RTC.

Family background

Wanda (occasionally spelled ‘Vanda’) Zamorska was born in Glasgow on 9 June 1861, to Albert Zamorski and Martha Grundy Zamorska.[1] Though Polish by birth, Albert Zamorski appeared in the 1861 Census of Scotland as a British subject. He married Martha Grundy Cooper in Manchester, England in 1858, and the couple had their first child, Emily Bogumila, known as Elma, in 1859 or 1860. By April 1861, Albert and Martha had settled in Scotland and were living at 123 Dumbarton Road, Glasgow. Their second daughter, Wanda Caroline, arrived two months later, followed by Casimir James (born 1862), Alberta Mary (born 1865), and Thaddeus Robert (born 1868). A sixth child, Isabel Maud(e), was born in 1870 but died in infancy.

Wanda’s father worked as a Commission Agent, specialising in elastics and silks. He initially ran his business from 72 Wilson Street in Glasgow,[2] and subsequently operated from a warehouse at 62 Argyle Street. The Glasgow Post Office directories for the 1860s show that the Zamorski family lived for brief periods in several different streets in the West End of Glasgow, and by 1869 they were residing in Annfield Terrace, Partick.

On 9 May 1871, Albert died, leaving a young widow and five children aged under 13. Fortunately, they were not penniless: Albert’s estate was valued at £193 8s.,[3] and Martha Zamorska appears to have taken on, or at least maintained some involvement in, her late husband’s business, which was now known as A. Zamorski & Co., Commission Merchants and Agents.[4] In 1872, she and the children moved from Annfield Terrace to 235 Dumbarton Road, and from thence to 296 Bath Street in 1873. By 1880, they were living at 3 Elmbank Street.

The firm of A. Zamorski & Co. appears to have ceased trading in the mid-1880s and in 1889, Martha Zamorska died. Wanda and her siblings, all of whom were still living at home, subsequently moved to Rupert Street, where the eldest, Elma, was head of the household. The 1891 Census reveals the profession or occupation of each member of the family. Elma is described as a teacher of singing, Wanda as a teacher of music, Casimir as an architect, Alberta as a dressmaker, and Thaddeus – the only one who was not self-employed - as a mercantile clerk. In 1898, Casimir married and set up home in Willowbank Crescent, Glasgow with his wife, Jane. Wanda and her other siblings stayed together in Rupert Street until 1909, when they relocated as a family to Carrington Street.

Early studies in natural sciences

Wanda Zamorska first entered the Glasgow and West of Scotland Technical College (GWSTC), known from 1912 as the Royal Technical College (RTC), as an evening student in session 1893-94. As well as day courses for full-time students, the GWSTC offered a variety of theoretical and practical evening classes intended for apprentices, working people and others who were unable to study during the day. Wanda and her two sisters, Elma and Alberta, enrolled for Mr Thomas King’s summer course in Botany,[5] which ran on Monday evenings from 8-9 pm. Requiring no prior knowledge of the subject, the course consisted of 15 popular lectures on flowering plants, ferns, mosses and seaweeds, plus several Saturday afternoon excursions to examine fresh plants in situ.[6] The trio enjoyed this experience so much that they returned in session 1894-95 to take a further evening course in Botany, alongside a Tuesday evening class in Experimental Physics.[7] Wanda’s aptitude for natural sciences was now apparent, as she achieved fifth place overall in the Experimental Physics class.[8] Both she and Alberta took further evening classes in Botany and Experimental Physics in session 1895-96, while Elma took Botany only.[9] This time, Wanda did well enough to claim Second Prize in the Experimental Physics class.[10] In session 1896-97, Wanda and Alberta again took evening classes in Botany and Physiography, while Elma took Physiography only.[11]

Neither Elma nor Alberta pursued further studies at the GWSTC, but Wanda’s enthusiasm was undiminished. She returned for yet another evening course in Botany in session 1897-98 and enrolled for a Geology course in session 1898-99.[12] There then follows a gap of several years until her next appearance in the GWSTC student registers, perhaps on account of her brother, Casimir’s marriage. Upon his wedding in 1898, Casimir established a home of his own and presumably ceased contributing to his siblings’ household, which may have left little money available for evening class fees.

Student and Assistant in the Department of Botany and Bacteriology

Wanda resumed her evening studies in session 1903-04, taking Bacteriology Lecture Course I and Bacteriology Laboratory Course I.[13] A new Lecturer in Botany and Bacteriology, Dr David Ellis, took up post that session,[14] and he quickly recognized Wanda’s abilities, harnessing them for the benefit of his Department. The GWSTC records show that from 1 September 1904, Wanda was employed as a part-time assistant to Dr Ellis at a salary of £13 per annum,[15] thus becoming one of the few women involved in the teaching of scientific subjects at the GWSTC in this period.

During session 1904-05, Wanda also received a Kerr Bursary in Botany.[16] The Kerr Bursaries were awarded on the basis of a competitive examination for students studying Natural Philosophy or Botany at the GWSTC, with each award of £15 tenable for a maximum of three years.[17] It is possible that the bursary, coupled with the remuneration from her appointment at the GWSTC, enabled Wanda to reduce or give up her primary occupation as a teacher of music, as in session 1905-06 she enrolled as a day student for the first time.

Over the next decade, Wanda combined her part-time duties for the Department with attendance as a student at the College. She enrolled for classes in various scientific subjects, including day courses in Organic Chemistry and Inorganic Chemistry and a Special Laboratory Course in Botany, in which advanced students pursued their own practical studies on Mondays and Wednesdays between 8 and 10 pm, overseen by Dr Ellis.[18] She also qualified for first class certificates of merit (awarded for a final mark of over 80 percent) in most of her evening classes, including Bacteriology Lecture Course II, Bacteriology Laboratory Course II, Pharmacy, Materia Medica, Zoology Lecture Courses I and II, and Zoology Laboratory Courses I and II. Her last appearance in the student registers occurs in session 1914-15, when she took the Zoology Special Laboratory evening class. Like that in Botany, this course permitted experienced students to ‘pursue the study practically at any time when the Laboratory is open for Zoological work, under the general guidance of the Lecturer.’[19] It is noteworthy, however, that Wanda’s date of birth never appears correctly in the student registers, being variously recorded as 1873, 1868 and 1867 instead of 1861. Repeated clerical error seems an unlikely explanation for this, so was she deliberately claiming to be younger than her years, and if so, why?

Demonstrator and Assistant Lecturer at the Royal Technical College

In session 1906-07, Wanda Zamorska was the senior of three part-time assistants attached to the Department of Botany and Bacteriology, the others being Miss Evelyne Gilmour and Mr George Russell.[20] The assistants’ duties mainly involved preparing and conducting practical demonstrations for Dr Ellis’s classes, and their workload was about to increase markedly. On 2 April 1906, the GWSTC Committee on Mathematics, Natural Philosophy and Natural Sciences granted Dr Ellis an additional allowance of £12 for his assistants, ‘in view of the developments proposed in his Department’.[21] Wanda’s salary consequently rose from £13 to £20. The ‘proposed developments’ alluded to were two new courses that Dr Ellis was preparing to offer in session 1906-07. The first of these, arranged at the request of the Glasgow Grocers’ and Provision Merchants’ Association, was a course of practical classes in Economic Botany for grocers.[22] In the event, the grocers’ class created so much extra work for Wanda and Evelyne Gilmour that their salaries were each augmented by a further £5.[23] The second new initiative, which commenced in July 1907, was a series of vacation courses in Botany for secondary school teachers from all over Scotland. These proved so popular that the classes were ‘full to overflowing’, and in the following session they were supplemented by summer courses in Nature Study for teachers in elementary schools.[24]

In September 1911, Evelyne Gilmour resigned and her duties were absorbed by Wanda Zamorska, whose salary consequently increased from £25 to £45 per annum.[25] By session 1916-17, George Russell had also departed, leaving Wanda as the sole assistant in the Department of Botany and Bacteriology.[26] This, together with the strains experienced by all staff in their efforts to keep classes going throughout the First World War, may have encouraged her to appeal to the RTC’s Committee on Mathematics, Natural Philosophy and Natural Sciences. At a meeting on 24 September 1919, the Committee considered a letter received from Miss Zamorska and ‘agreed to recommend that her remuneration be increased to £90 for the session, a sum based upon the normal rate of 15s. per evening, and that Dr Ellis be requested to make such arrangements as were practicable to relieve her from day duties.’[27] One of these arrangements may have concerned her title, as the RTC Calendar for session 1920-21 lists Miss Zamorska as ‘Demonstrator’ rather than ‘Assistant’ in the Department of Botany and Bacteriology.

By 1920, Dr David Ellis not only held the post of Lecturer in Botany and Bacteriology but also that of Superintendent of the School of Pharmacy, plus responsibility for the School of Bakery.[28] As in previous years, Ellis’s burgeoning responsibilities affected the workload of his assistants, and at a meeting of the RTC’s Sub-Committee on the School of Pharmacy on 7 May 1923,

A letter from Dr. Ellis was read, pointing out that the great increase in the work of his department, caused by the formation of classes for the degree in Pharmacy, and the introduction of a second-year day course in Bakery, rendered necessary a rearrangement of the work of his assistants. At present, in addition to Mr. Todd, Lecturer in Pharmacy, he had six part-time assistants whose salaries amounted to £325 per session, but, as part-time assistance had not been quite satisfactory, he proposed that it be discontinued next session, and that the following be appointed full-time assistants at the salaries stated:-

Miss Zamorska £325

Miss Eadie £150[29]

Thereafter, the RTC Annual Reports list Miss Zamorska both as Assistant Lecturer to Dr Ellis in the Department of Botany and Bacteriology and as Assistant Lecturer in Botany within the School of Pharmacy.[30] She appealed to the Committee on Mathematics, Natural Philosophy and Natural Sciences for a further increase of salary in the summer of 1924, but this was not granted.[31]

Wanda Zamorska retired in the summer of 1926, aged 65, after 22 years of service to the College.[32] Acknowledging her departure, the RTC Annual Report for session 1925-26 noted that ‘Her zealous and conscientious work as a lecturer and demonstrator during this long period has been much appreciated.’[33] In a final act of consideration towards her former employers, she wrote to them in September 1926, offering for sale her set of 152 lantern slides on botanical subjects, which she had presumably used for teaching and demonstrations. The RTC agreed to purchase this for £20.[34]

Having outlived all her siblings, Wanda Zamorska died at the age of 90 on 26 November 1951. As a pupil, and subsequently as Dr Ellis’s dependable assistant, she had been associated with the College for a remarkable 32 years. In giving practical demonstrations and lectures to thousands of students, she made a significant contribution to the teaching of Botany in Glasgow and helped to facilitate the expanding number and types of classes offered by her Department. As such, ‘the woman at the back’ of the laboratory photograph might fairly be described as the backbone of the Department of Botany and Bacteriology in the early twentieth century.

--------------------------------------

[1] ScotlandsPeople: 1861 Zamorski, Vanda Caroline (Statutory registers Births 644/8 901), accessed 3 March 2021

[2] Post Office Directory for Glasgow, 1862-1863.

[3] ScotlandsPeople: 1874 Zamorski, Albert (Wills and testaments Reference SC36/48/75, Glasgow Sheriff Court Inventories) Image 364, accessed 3 March 2021.

[4] Post Office Directory for Glasgow, 1871-1872.

[5] OE/11/3/1/6: GWSTC Register of Students, session 1893-94.

[6] OE/10/1/8: GWSTC Calendar, session 1894-95, p.186.

[7] OE/11/3/1/7: GWSTC Register of Students, session 1894-95; OE/10/1/8, GWSTC Calendar, session 1894-95, p.128.

[8] OE/10/1/9: GWSTC Calendar, session 1895-96: list of prize and certificate winners for evening classes in session 1894-95, p.226.

[9] OE/11/3/1/8: GWSTC Register of Students, session 1895-96.

[10] OE/10/1/10: GWSCT Calendar, session 1896-97: list of prize and certificate winners for evening classes in session 1895-96, p.220. Her name is erroneously spelled ‘Wanda K. Zamorski’.

[11] OE/11/3/1/9: GWSTC Register of Students, session 1896-97.

[12] OE/11/3/1/10-11: GWSTC Registers of Students, sessions 1897-98 and 1898-99.

[13] OE/11/3/1/16: GWSTC Register of Students, session 1903-1904.

[14] OE/4/1/2: GWSTC Annual Report, 20 September 1904, p.19.

[15] OE/6/1/1: RTC staff index card for Wanda Zamorska; OE/11/3/1/17: GWSTC Register of Students, session 1904-1905. The latter records Miss Zamorska’s occupation as ‘Ass[istan]t to Dr. Ellis.’

[16] OE/4/1/2: GWSTC Annual Report, 19 September 1905, p.30.

[17] OE/10/1/18: GWSTC Calendar, session 1904-1905, p.186.

[18] OE/10/1/20: GWSTC Calendar, session 1906-1907, p.183.

[19] OE/10/1/28: RTC Calendar, session 1914-1915, p.240.

[20] OE/4/1/2: GWSTC Annual Report, 24 September 1907, p.10.

[21] OE/1/15/1: Meeting of the GWSTC Committee on Mathematics, Natural Philosophy and Natural Sciences, 2 April 1906, p.133.

[22] OE/4/1/2: GWSTC Annual Report, 24 September 1907, pp.17-18.

[23] OE/1/1/12: GWSTC Board of Governors and Committee minutes, 13 November 1907, p.84.

[24] OE/4/1/2: GWSTC Annual Report, 22 September 1908, pp.22-23.

[25] OE/1/1/14: GWSTC Board of Governors and Committee minutes, 15 September 1911, p.74.

[26] From session 1912-13 to session 1915-16, the RTC calendar lists both Wanda Zamorska and George Russell as assistants in the Department of Botany and Bacteriology. In session 1916-17, only Miss Zamorska is listed.

[27] OE/1/1/17: RTC Board of Governors and Committee minutes, 24 September 1919, p.180.

[28] J. Butt, John Anderson’s Legacy: The University of Strathclyde and its antecedents, 1796-1996 (East Linton, 1996) p.126.

[29] OE/1/1/19: RTC Board of Governors and Committee minutes, p.97.

[30] OE/4/1/5: RTC Annual Report, 16 October 1923, p.14.

[31] OE/1/1/20: RTC Board of Governors and Committee minutes, 2 June 1924, p.34.

[32] OE/1/1/21: RTC Board of Governors and Committee minutes, 16 February 1926, p.22.

[33] OE/4/1/6: RTC Annual Report, 19 October 1926, p.42.

[34] OE/1/1/21: RTC Board of Governors and Committee minutes, meeting of Committee on Finance and Property, 21 September 1926, p.47.

#archives and special collections #archives #Wanda Zamorska #19th century #20th century #women #International Womens Day #IWD2021 #women at the university #women in science #women in STEM #Glasgow and West of Scotland Technical College #Royal Technical College #University of Strathclyde #botany

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theparanormalperiodical · 4 years

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Black Cats And Broken Mirrors: The Forgotten History Behind 13 Common Superstitions feat. 4 Cray-Cray Bonus Beliefs That You Didn’t Know Existed

It’s safe to say I’m a superstitious person.

I run a blog about the paranormal, for god’s sake.

Everyday I find myself touching wood, crossing my fingers, and hoping that magpie I can see just over there has a friend nearby to make a pair.

But in the same vein I’m obsessed with things that aren’t quite so lucky: I’m currently donning a pair of subtle black cat slippers, and I’m pretty damn sure my lucky number is 13.

Like most people reading this post at 2.37am when they should be having nightmares about the Mothman, I’m drawn to all things that don’t quite make sense. And people like me have been obsessed with superstitions since humans first started believing in a god of their choice.

Yet despite the long history of superstitious beliefs, there are some that still alter what we think and what we do.

Why do we pick up pennies in the hope of good luck?

Is there an explanation as to why walking under ladders can bring back luck?

And what is so wrong with the number 13?

Clutch your rabbit foot tight, and let’s find out.

#1 - It’s bad luck to open umbrellas indoors

I hate umbrellas. Like printers, they can sense when you need them most, deciding to either malfunction with the slightest gust of wind or disappear from sight altogether.

But the Victorians had it a bit worse than we do with more modern contraptions. And it’s the dangerous nature of Victorian umbrellas that explains why we are still wary of opening them indoors:

They had rigidly-spoked umbrellas which would snap open. When opened indoors, it could injure someone or hit an object as they opened with such force.

But the history of umbrella-related problems actually goes as far back as the Ancient Egyptians. The nobility would be protected from the sun with decorative umbrellas, but they believed if they opened them indoors they would anger the sun god. Umbrellas also mimicked the goddess who formed the sky so the shade created by the umbrella was thus considered sacred.

The act of daring to open one indoors could also anger your home’s spirits and causing misfortune.

So basically no living being or supernatural entity approves.

#2 - Walking underneath a ladder will bring bad luck

We now turn from one belief system to another.

This superstition relates purely to Christianity, with the claims that the ladder against a wall creates 3 points and thus represents the Holy Trinity. Walking through this triangle thus represents you - yes, you, you unholy thing - breaking it.

The Egyptians also had a thing about ladders, and like the Christians believed a triangle was sacred symbol.

It is also claimed that ladders were rested against crucifixes, and thus became a symbol of wickedness, death, and any other values that go against Christ’s teaching.

These beliefs were so prevalent, criminals sentenced to be hung in 17th century England were forced to walk under a ladder as they headed towards the gallows.

#3 - Broken mirrors give you seven years of bad luck

Mirrors have a bad reputation amongst us supernatural skeptics. Why?

They’ve been used for divination and conjuring rituals for millenia, and that’s exactly the gripe the Ancient Greeks had with them.

Their mirror seers, as they were also known, told the future by looking at the reflection of their clients. And one of their methods was catoptromancy: the mirror was dipped in water, and you were asked to look in the glass. If it distorted, you were destined to die.

The 7 years bit is actually to do with the Romans and was introduced back in 1st AD. As they believed people's health changed in 7 year cycles, a distorted image thus meant 7 years of ill health or misfortune.

#4 - Throwing salt over your shoulder avoids bad luck

Salt is one of those things that has always had spiritual meaning.

From the Bible to Pagan ceremonies, it is known for its healing properties and has even been used as a unit of exchange. It’s these values which explain why spilling salt is considered so unlucky.

Even the word ‘salary’ can be traced back to the monetary value of what we now consider simply a seasoning.

The Ancient Sumerians were the first to think up throwing salt over their left shoulder to nullify any salt they might spill, protecting themselves from bad luck. Alternatively, in Mahayana Buddhist tradition, the same ritual is used to prevent evil spirits from entering the house.

#5 - Knocking on wood prevents disappointment

Just like salt, wood has been pretty prevalent in rituals throughout history. It’s for this reason that historians still aren’t sure which religion actually gave birth to this, but it is most often attributed to holding a crucifix when taking an oath, or how European peasants historically knocked loudly to keep out evil spirits.

Today we knock on wood to avoid tempting fate, whereas German or Celtic folklore started the knocking ritual to invoke the protection of their fairies, spirits, and dryads that lived in the trees. To follow their ritual, say your wish to the tree, knock one, and then knock again to say ‘thank you’.

The knocking stops the evil spirits from hearing you, and prevents them from interfering in your good fortune.

#6 - Open-end-up horse shoes are good luck

It’s a good luck charm gracing novelty gifts and jewellery for prep school girls who are still crying about New Moon - but like most superstitions, it once again can be traced back to the Ancient Greeks.

Iron was believed to have the ability to ward off evil, and the crescent moon was a symbol of fertility and good fortune. The twinned appeal of an iron crescent moon symbol thus suggested high levels of protection against misfortune.

This symbol was passed down to the Christians and use of it peaked during the witch trials. It was believed witches feared horses, and thus wouldn’t go near a home with a horse shoe on the front door.

It can also be traced back to a legend of Saint Dunstan from the 10th century: one day the Devil asked for Dunstan to shoe his horse. Rather than nailing the shoe to the horse’s foot, he nailed it to the devil’s foot and thus caused the entity unbearable pain. Dunstan agreed to remove the shoe only if the Devil never entered a household with a horseshoe on the door.

The way it is positioned is also important: open end down means the horse catches the luck and open end up means those entering the house get the luck.

#7 - Black cats crossing your path is bad luck

Black cats have always been considered omens - but the kind of luck they bring is yet to be agreed upon.

Ancient Egyptians revered cats and thus believed they brought good luck, whereas the British public’s fear of black cats can be traced back to King Charles I’s loss of his beloved pet. He believed when it died his luck was gone...

He was arrested the next day for high treason.

(Oh, he was guilty, black cat or not.)

Medieval Europeans followed a similar line of thought, but believed that they were familiars (like companions) of witches. If one was to cross your path, it meant the devil was watching you.

#8 - The number 13 is unlucky

This superstition is so popular, it’s even earnt a scientific name: triskaidekaphobia, aka the fear of the number 13. But why do we have such a phobia of the number?

Whilst many believe it is down to the Last Supper, when Judas - that guy that betrayed Jesus - sat down as the 13th guest at the table, it can also be found in a similar legend in Norse mythology.

12 gods were dining at Valhalla in the city of gods when Loki crashed the party. They tried to kick him out, but the struggle caused one of the gods - Balder - to die. But each culture has their own individual take on why the number 13 is quite so unlucky.

The Mayan believed their calendar’s 13th Baktun was the harbinger of 2012’s predicted apocalypse, English monks disliked 13 full moons in a year as opposed to 12 as it skewed the religious holidays, and in 1307 on friday the 13th King Philip of France ordered the arrest of the Knights Templar.

Some nations take the fear so seriously that they don’t even have 13 floors. And interestingly enough, it wasn’t used in Formula 1 for 40 years. Some countries, including China and France, however, believe it is a lucky number.

#9 - Pick up a penny for good luck

This superstition is often relayed to a nursery rhyme actually referring to pins forged by Paganism, but it actually started with superstition regarding metals. In years gone by, metals gave protection against evil spirits. So, when metal began to be used from currency, it followed logically that those who had more currency had better fortune.

But what one should do with the penny is uncertain. Some say it is only lucky if it is heads-side-up, whereas others believe you should always flip it over for the next person to find.

Another forgotten ritual associated with pennies is that a bride should put a penny in her shoe on her wedding day to ensure a happy marriage.

#10 - A rabbit’s foot brings good luck

Okay, let’s be honest.

We’re all friends here.

Who the f*ck wants a rabbit’s foot? Like, what person wants an animal’s body part in their bed side table, or in their new rucksack-style handbag which you’re still not sure if the colour works with your skintone yet but you’ve already lost the receipt?

Turns out a lot of people do.

Rabbit feet are considered a talisman or an amulet which can be traced back to Celtic tribes in Britain. But on the other side of the pond, they can come from hoodoo, African-American folk magic that combines Native American, European, and African beliefs.

However, any ol’ rabbit can’t be chosen to be de-footed. It must’ve been killed in a certain way, in a certain place, by a certain person.

Under a full moon, or in a cemetery, or on a rainy Friday, or shot with a silver bullet… You have a lot of options.

The interest in rabbit feet in particular is because this is an animal which witches used to shapeshift into, and the times it should be killed, such as during a full moon, was when witches would transform.

The cemetery part is interesting, however: if killed on the grave of a criminal, they have a more effective charm applied to them.

#11 - Crossing your fingers is good luck

Like most superstitions, this one goes back to Jesus.

Crossing your fingers invokes the power of Christ as it creates a cross, and thus asks God for protection. But the first use of the gesture itself involves two people crossing their index fingers together, and can be traced back to the biblical Kingdom of Israel:

Judges would cross their fingers when they sentenced someone to death and wanted to reaffirm God’s authority over the criminal’s soul.

From there churchgoers would cross their fingers for blessings, and in the 16th century England people began to use it to ward off evil or to bless people when they coughed or sneezed.

#12 - Mirrors placed opposite each other are unlucky and might conjure the devil

We already know mirrors are highly-spiritual objects, and can be used to predict the future or conjure spirits from another realm.

But according to Mesoamerican culture, when mirrors are placed opposite each other, they create a doorway for the devil.

Mexicans today still believe your interior design might just be summoning evil spirits.

#13 - Whistling indoors is bad luck

Our next superstition is from Lithuania, but has already made its way across Europe.

In many cultures, whistling - especially at night - attracts bad luck and evil spirits. But in England, an urban legend in the 19th century brought a whole new meaning to the superstition. The Seven Whistlers are mysterious spirits that would create spectral whistling in mines and stopped groups of coal miners going to work.

Alternatively, in Slavic countries whistling indoors can bring poverty, whereas the Chinese Daoist technique of breath yoga can summon supernatural beings and strange phenomena.

The Superstitions You Didn’t Know Existed And Will Now Probably Be Obsessed With

#14 - If a bird craps on you it is good luck

This Russian superstition claims that if bird poop lands on you or an object that belongs to you, it will bring you wealth. But interest in bird faeces goes a bit further than this frosty nation.

Sailors believed droppings shouldn’t be cleaned off a vessel until the next rainstorm, whereas British folklore claims if droppings come from a rook (a member of the Crow family) it is a punishment.

#15 - Yo-Yos bring bad luck

On January 21st 1933, Yo-Yos were banned in Syria.

The persistent drought and freezing temperatures the country was facing were pinned on the traditional toy, and the leaders in Damascus claimed the wrath of god was being incited by these obviously evil trinkets.

They believed that Syrians were praying from the rain to come down, but as the yo-yo comes down and then goes back up it thus wasn’t raining.

I think that’s what they were getting at.

I’m still not sure.

#16 - Singing at the dinner table is bad luck

I was once told off for singing in the middle of dinner. I must’ve been three years old, but from what I’ve read, my grandpa was probably convinced I was actually communicating with Satan.

If you sang at the table, it meant you were singing to the devil for your supper. And when you sing to the devil, it’s probably going to end badly.

#17 - Carry an acorn to stay young

According to women from Ancient Britain, acorns could keep you looking youthful - and it was all down to the power of an oak tree.

Simply tuck one into your pocket, and you too could look like you were in a magazine spread that enforces the destructive notion that women cannot look above the age of 27.

Acorns are also associated with Thor: Scandinavian folklore claims the god of thunder sought protection under an oak tree during a storm. By putting one on a windowsill, it will protect your house from lightning strikes as a sign of respect to Thor.

As we plough into Autumn of this sh*t year, it is our duty to generate as much luck as possible. We’re gonna need it.

Which superstition surprised you the most? And which ones do you do?

Let me know in a comment, and click follow if you want to hear a new article on the paranormal every week!

And don’t forget to check out the link in the bio, the ultimate collection of online real ghost stories as told by you.

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the-orxcle · 4 years

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the old & the new.

WHO: Barbara Gordon & Dinah Lance [ @killervcice ] WHERE: A small-time drug den & Barbara’s apartment WHEN: July 7th 2020 WHAT: Oracle and Black Canary tackle a small time drug den to confirm a hunch that Oracle has had. They talk about reforming teams and transforming relationships.

Babs: saying babs had a one track mind isn't fair. truly, she she could have several tracks in her mind that went so deep they could come off as one-track, but she felt like she always had room for more. that was exactly the thought process that was going through her mind as she ruminated about the bird of prey. it had been a few years, sure, but with steph and cass a bit more experienced, she gets excited at the idea of bringing them into the fold, too. of course, it's all just thoughts until anything happens. when she notices weird activity on a block she walks by daily and decides to pay closer attention from a different point of view, she finds the action.

she made quick work on contacting dinah, sharing her suspicions about a small drug factory in this building. it was only natural to call out her oldest friend, and if it turned out to be nothing, that was fine. still, something nagged.

"alright, if you go around back of the building, there's a fire escape and a set of stairs that goes down into a basement. that's what we want." she instructs, "i recommend that, unless you want a nice pleasant bell to give your arrival away."

Dinah: it had been a point of joy for dinah once that she and babs had been strong enough to have their own team. they didn't need the league, they just needed each other and the family they made for themselves. honestly, she missed it. even though her and babs had hardly grown apart in the time since. it was just a little different and she's had plenty of time to think about it with the league now being back and frankly larger than ever, it's something that she's just simply come to accept now that she would have gone back to the birds of prey in a heartbeat if she could.

dinah was always going to go when babs needed her, all too happy to help out her partner and when she’s already suited up and on patrol, then a small detour wasn’t exactly going to be too difficult to manage.

she nods as babs speaks careful to keep moving. "i don't know, people are usually pretty agreeable when you use the doorbell," she jokes with a grin. sure enough babs was (as usual) spot on and she finds the door without much hassle. "i hope you know we're getting food after that, that's the price of the great black canary," she smirks before starting down the stairs. "hopefully this wont take too long,"

Babs: "oh, yeah, we'll just let them throw a load of white powder over you to find out what it is they're making, too." she chuckles as her eyes glide over the camera system she now had access to. it was already playing back in a still loop for those that thought they controlled it. dinah was going in without them any wiser. "ooh, I could do food. i'm feeling breakfast at midnight... but we seriously need to talk about your salary negotiation skills if I can get you for the price of a dinner." she chuckles, "wait just a second before opening..." two men were sauntering away, just annoyingly slow. when they turn into a room and close the door, she speaks again, "okay, now. two guys in the closed door on the right. you want the trap door in that room."

Dinah: "sometimes you've just gotta take one for the team," dinah laughs with a smirk. it's a testament to just how synchronised they are that they could joke the way they did, even though dinah was indeed still careful to keep an eye out. oracle's abilities were impressive and dinah trusted babs not to miss anything, but things could go south quickly if she didn't pay attention. "breakfast with my favorite person, what else could i possibly want?" dinah waits as instructed before moving in. "we wouldn't want this to be too easy would we," luckily, dinah was able to get the two out of the way quickly, although they'd likely have a headache when they woke up. she moved to the trap door then pausing for direction form babs.

Babs: babs smirks as dinah makes her progress, letting her focus on the fight for the moment, though it was clear those two creeps were no match for her. "okay, so down those stairs is a pretty open basement. it looks like their big guns are actually on a table to the left when you go down. i would guess they have weapons on them, but you can get between them and the big ones. all you need is a sample of what they're working with, i have the images saved and running. i want to figure out where these guys are coming from, because this is too casual to be any sort of headquarter setup," she was half reasoning aloud, "there is a bunch of gasoline to the right if you wanna screw up the rest of their product after you have a sample for me."

Dinah: dinah nods as babs gives her her instructions. it felt good didn't it, getting to do this again. dinah is certain that there's no one she wanted to do this with more than the other. "useful," she remarks as she notes the big guns were out of play, though babs was right that didn't exactly mean she was exactly out of harms way."right, one sample and fire coming right up," she grins before making her move down the stairs. "alright boys i'm giving you an out, anyone wants to leave now you can the police will be more than happy to help you out," of course no one takes her up on her offer and what follows is a flurry of movement and one good scream. babs was right the big guns were out of the way, so she's able to get what she needs whilst also fighting off the men. "got it!" she remarks stuffing the small collection of powder into her jacket whilst making another roundhouse kick to an opponent. she retreats then until she's close enough to the barrel to knock it over, being careful not to get any on her clothes. "well fellas this has been fun, but i have a date you understand," most of them seem to have gotten the hint now and are busy racing towards the exit. so, there's no harm in her dropping her lighter into the puddle now growing on the floor, before she was racing towards the door. "there, another win for the dream team,"

Babs: babs can't help but smirk as she watches dinah go, careful to watch for any moment of vulnerability for her, but as always she's practically infallible. m'gann's words once again run through her head, along with the slew of people that asked her about dinah... it's the comment about a date that sealed the deal in her head. she had to say something. even that thought process was pushed to the side though as dinah finished up the guys, "well, we know they're not super specially trained...." there's a bit of amusement in her tone. she hums for a moment, clearly pondering, "but it was only a minor house. this is... bigger. i don't like this, and NOVA would make the perfect cover for smaller groups to set up shop majorly." she sighs, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed as she watches dinah make her way back to her bike. she's careful as she speaks, her idea only being spoken for the first time now. "this isn't something i want to bother the league with. bigger fish and all.... but i have been thinking... helena and ted are here, and cass, steph, damian... they all have the skills... i feel like the birds could be of some use around here. what do you think?" sure, she didn't need dinah's blessing, but the whole dream team thing didn't come from no where. her opinion definitely mattered here.

Dinah: "always good to rule out," dinah jokes playfully. of course she's in a good mood, how could she not be when this had gone so well. she is all but seconds away from claiming babs as her good luck charm when babs continues and really all barbara was doing was highlighting the same things she was thinking. when you'd been in this game as long as the two of them had you simply learned to trust your intuition. "it's nothing we can't handle," she speaks quickly and she really does mean it because having babs in her ear even after all this time was one hell of a confidence boost. then babs continues in a tone of voice she knows far too well at this point. she's careful to keep her eyes on the road as she makes her way back to babs but still a smirk pulls at her features. "are you asking if i want to get the band back together? because you know you don't need to right?" sure, she was a member of the league but the birds of prey had always always been her team, her and bab's anyway. if the others didn't like that, well she wasn't exactly asking for permission. "a whole new team will be... interesting, but i think we can handle it," when had they not been able to over come a challenge or two? besides, babs had a very strong point. many of the teams strongest players were already here so really it felt like it was just a matter of time. it wasn't something babs needed to question. "you know i'd follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked. except y'know please don't ask that of me or do that if you're taking suggestions,"

Babs: babs cant help but chuckle a little as she listens to the other. she even smirks as she basically echoes her own thoughts. "i know i don't need to. it's almost like i value your opinion," she teases. as she listens to the other, she's a little relieved that expressions can't be shared. the conversation with m'gann basically flashed through her head on repeat at this point, and she silently puts a hand over her brow. dinah just... said these things, these really genuine things that she knew she meant, because dinah didn't know what the word subtle meant, that made babs feel downright giddy. "i know you would," she says gently, and for once, too preoccupied with other thoughts to give anything more detailed. so she takes a breath and hums as she brings herself back to the moment, "alright, you focus on coming here, i'll order something. i feel like i have a thousand things i want to talk about." it may have been the understatement of the century, but she wasn't about to spill everything over coms.

Dinah: dinah smirks as she drives. luckily it wasn't going to take her too long to get back to babs' and she knew the streets like the back of her hand she's all too happy to multitask."really, who would have thought it," unable to stop herself from beaming. her good mood is only further reinforced with barbara's affirmation because really, what would have been the point of hiding her emotions from someone who'd known her for as long as she had? in that moment the only thing she wanted to do was celebrate a pretty clear win with her favorite person while discussing their team. after all, after giving up the mantle of black canary there had been a time when she'd been convinced she'd never be a member of the birds of prey again. "when you say stuff like that i feel like i should stop to get some wine on the way," she teased gently. "which is totally an option," she really only joked around like this with babs, it's a sign of just how relaxed with the other. "i won't be long,"

Babs: "i'm almost hurt you don't think I'm prepared enough to have a stock of wine by now," she fakes offense in her voice, but the smile is clear in her tone. "let yourself in, i'm setting up everything." only when Dinah was around the corner, does babs rise from her desk and goes about setting up an area to test the substance that was on its way. to say she was more cautious since damian and then dick's incident... well, that would be an understatement, which is why she keeps the mic on as she goes about her business. it didn't matter how capable anyone was, "i almost wish i could bring this into SCPD and test it there, but i feel like that'd be frowned upon if i'm not sharing the case. yet, at least. we'll see once we know what we're dealing with," she only pauses a moment before her mind wanders back to the possibility of the birds of prey, "i may have to wait a bit with damian... but i'm worried. that's a dangerous anger and im not sure if bruce is helping or hurting at this point. and honestly i don't even blame him..."

Dinah: "what if i thought i'd drank it all?" dinah questions with a laugh before nodding. she was only a moment or two away so soon enough she was parking her bike outside, taking her helmet off, tucking it under her arm and making her way to the other. all while babs was still talking in her ear. it was a comfort though wasn't it? she's all too used to being babs' person for such sound boarding and it's something she treasures. "i think we have to play this carefully," dinah hums in agreement. she avoids making a joke for the moment knowing that this was serious. "listen if there's one thing i know we can handle it's anger issues," her mind turns affectionately to some of the other team members for a moment as she gets into the . "i'm sure bruce means well but," she sighs then. "i'm sure we can help, if nothing else he might just enjoy knowing the door is open," she makes her way to the other's door then turning the com off before stepping inside. "honey i'm home," she calls out with a laugh before walking to the other and pulling the sample from her pocket."one special delivery for a special lady,"

Babs: as dinah comes into the apartment, babs can't help but sigh a little. she smiles, of course she does. how can she not with dinah sweeping into the apartment like that? honey im home? the wry smile babs has on is not exactly normal, nor is the little sigh she lets out as she takes the sample. "you are, once again, the best. if you want to get changed, I'll set this up." she turns to go about her work, trying to just focus on that until she can leave it for a few hours.

when the test is running, she moves to sit on the couch, smiling when dinah comes into the room again. "'c'mere," she pats the couch next to her, clearly with something on her mind. she sighs a moment before she launches in to a speech she'd been turning in her head for... a while now. "so... i had an interesting conversation with m'gann recently. told me that, when i talked about you, i got this... feeling. consistently. and, you know, people ask about you enough and have said, joked... you know," she smirks a moment, and moves to grab the other's hand, "i wouldn't really believe them. but... i can't really argue with my own feelings, can i?" the smirk melts into a wry smile and a shrug, "and, if i'm being honest... i knew they were there. i've known i have feelings for you. I don't know since when. but... they're there. and man, you don't make it easy to ignore them, you know."

Dinah: "i do my best," she grins. dinah doesn't really even notice the change in the other's mood because she's so fatigued from the mission, but she nods patting the others shoulder. "okay, i'll be back in a minute," luckily she kept plenty of clothes in babs' apartment just so that moments like these weren't an issue.

it's not a surprise to see that babs has moved to the couch, right now all dinah wanted to do was flop down beside her. something about the look on babs' face makes her pause however and she can't help but raise a brow. "oh boy, you've got your thinking face on," still, she nods as the other mentions m'gann thinking that it couldn't be anything too stressful surely. something lurches in her chest as the other mentions feelings however. talk about a bad time for butterflies. "people being ted," she offers in an attempt to be helpful more than a little curious and confused all at once. then babs mentions her feelings and dinah just feels her heart racing further. was she saying what she thought she was saying? "wait babs just hold up a second," she breathes with a shake of her head clutching at the other's hand like it was a lifejacket in the middle of the sea. "i need you to be real clear with me, are you saying feelings like romantic feelings?" she doesn't want to risk being wrong but a grin spreads onto her features regardless. "it's okay if you are, great even i just... want to be sure,"

Babs: the feeling of Dinah clutching her hand too... that felt nice. a solid reassurance in a moment where she actually needed it. "oh, it's more than Ted...." she chuckles a little, but nods at the next question. Babs finds herself analyzing every twitch of Dinah's face, looking for any bad turn, any hint she should veer away... but she finds only the opposite. Dinah's smiling, grinning even, and clutching her had and... Babs realizing her heart is feeling light in a way it hasn't for a long time. it's like a breath of fresh air, almost, the way her heart seems to race, "that's exactly what I'm saying," she nods gently, but shrugs again, "dunno when it started. but I swear you've gotten sweeter since you showed up here-- not complaining," she clairifes, but her head tilts, brow arching a bit with a little smile, "great you say? that... sounds promising." she stays where she is, but inside she feels like her heart could beat out of her chest in this moment. she's nervous, but also... she can only feel so nervous with Dinah at her side. she finds herself running a thumb over the other's hand, "you're my partner, dinah. it's just... it's that simple. basic logic." and, to Babs, that said it all.

Dinah: she's being wary, at least subconsciously, for a long moment. dinah didn't exactl have the best track record when it came to luck in romance and babs well she's too special to even come close to loosing. she can't breathe for the moment out of the pure shock of the moment but it's not like dinah would want to be anywhere else. barbara gordon felt the same way about her that she'd felt about her for a long time now. it didn't seem real. "i'm asleep," dinah blurts out looking at the other with raised brows. her mind is racing at a thousand miles a minute in an attempt to try and comprehend what it is the other was saying. "there's no way i'm awake right now," her other hand moves to trace over the other's cheek then as if to test that she was real, although she doesn't move it with the contact. "oh yeah?" she questions playfully. she wants to be cool even in that moment but really she's not sure she's pulled that off. "basic logic," she echoes. "you know i think you might be onto something there," there are so many things she wants to say in that moment, but there's something else she wants more in that moment. "do you think you can come here please," she's sure for a moment her eyes are fixated on the other's lips. "been wanting to do this for a while,"

Babs: a trill of laughter pours from Babs mouth as the other blurts out her comment, and shakes her head fondly. "you're not," she teases, but her face freezes and softens at the contact on her cheek. she leans into it, pressing her cheek into dinahs hand. she can't contain her grin at the moment, and arches a playful brow of her own, "well, they tell me I'm pretty smart." she's more than amused as they both try to play this cool, but dinahs next statement makes Babs laugh a little breathlessly. the comment of waiting a while didn't hit right out of the gate, instead she was a little too preoccupied with how Dinah was staring at her lips. she feels like her heart could just jump out of her body as she shifts closer to Dinah, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and presses their lips together in a kiss. at first, Babs is soft and maybe even timid, but it only takes a moment before she realizes this is exactly what she's wanted to do for a while now. she can't help but sigh into it, pulling them closer together as she deepened the kiss. she feels like they're floating together, like nothing could stop either of them. it's only when they pause for air does Babs pull back just far enough to tilt her head in curiousity as the previous statement hit, "what do you mean a while? Dinah. did I really beat you at something?" she can't help but tease.

Dinah: the contact between the two of them is grounding in that moment. the way bab tilts her head into her palm is a welcome reminder that she wasn't doing this alone. it's a big deal baring your heart to someone but at the same time babs was babs. she hums in agreement at her next comment. honestly just too distracted to focus on anything else. she puts her all into the kiss happily, not really ever one for wasting time. babs had opened the floodgates now, the least she could do was show the other how much she appreciated it. still, with passion she's also careful, wrapping her free arm around the other in a hopefully settling manner. she just wants babs to feel loved in that moment more than anything else. they were in this together as if that was not the most thrilling thought possible. she flushes at the other's words still breathless from the kiss as she shakes her head. "just this once" she breathes gently thumb tracing over the other's cheek. "don't let it go to your head okay, we're a team we're supposed to figure things out together," she wants to kiss her again and as a result doesn't even hesitate before moving in to peck her lips gently. "you know, i think we might need to practice this like we do everything else,"

Babs: feeling dinah's arms wrapped around her like this is... well, babs can't deny that it's a warmth she doesn't want to end any time soon. she settles in dinah's lap happily, a familiar place to be at this point, now better than she could have imagined. the feeling of the hand at her cheek and the arm holding her, along with the left over tingling sensation on her lips... it's all enough to make babs want to melt. but at the same time, she's not sure there's anyone more solid and stable she can think of. sure, dinah had just come back from tour with a kid but... as far as people being there, dinah lance never backed down, never hesitated. there wasn't a day she was gone that babs didn't think dinah would drop everything if she needed her to. she lets out a little bit of a giggle, but falls silent with another grin as they kiss again, even if it's just a moment. she looks at the other earnestly, fingers trailing through her hair, "there's no one else I want to figure things out with," she says earnestly, melting into a bit of a giggle, "well, i do love studying...." and even her cheeks burn at the joke. perhaps another time she'd comment on her utterly awful humor in the moment, or on just how distracting the other was being, but instead babs had simply had enough of not kissing dinah. so, she pulls them together again, this time with no intent of stopping.

#discord tag #BOP IS COMIN #DINAHBABS IS HERE #dinah tag

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dxmedstudent · 5 years

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Dx’s Dating Tips #3 -The Profile

This post is about profiles as a whole - the bits and bobs that may not necessarily be in your blurb. Funnily enough, I started these posts months and months ago when I was still actively on those sites. Guess it took me a long time to hit my drafts and publish them, but I think it’s still useful.

Fill in the most useful fields, but don’t wory about listing every minute detail. Some dating sites really seem to go into incredible detail, because data is currency for them. But think carefully about how much information you are putting into your profile, and whether it’s going to look overwhelming and cluttering and hard to read. For example, you can put your hobbies, but stick to things that are most important to you, rather than something you tried, once. But this also means you really should spend some time making your profile actually complete and worthy of being read.

And yes, this also means try not to overstate how much you do things. If someone decided to date you because they thought you liked rock climbing as much as they do, they’ll probably be pretty bummed when they discover you tried it once, took a selfie, then hated it and would never want to try again. Being genuine about what you enjoy is key to finding people with similar interests or people who will respect you for yours.

It also means don’t understate things you do, either. If you smoke and drink, own it. Both those things might be dealbreakers for a lot of people, but you need someone who is compatible to you. For example, lots of people who like to go out drinking want partners who will share that experience with them, whereas people who don’t enjoy that particular pursuit might not want to spend all their dates being dragged round a club with their new SO and their friends whilst they all get plastered. Personally, I’m happy that the guy I’m seeing also doesn’t drink much, and doesn’t smoke; both would be dealbreakers for me, and equally, I wouldn’t want to feel like the ‘stick in the mud’ partner who doesn’t have fun. So I looked for someone with a similar definition of ‘fun’ to me. I heard of couples where one partner pretended not to smoke for the longest time because they knew their SO didn’t want to date a smoker, and I just found that to be such a sad deceit. Give prospective partners an honest chance to see if you are for them. I was quite open early on about my shifts, and my current sightly nomadic lifestyle in medicine; I talk quite a bit about work when dating, it turns out! Really, I want anyone who dates me to know what they are getting into; I don’t want them to feel tricked. Anyhow, despite all my talking about death and medicine, and having less than ideal timetables it seems I can’t put everyone off, and I’m truly honoured to have met someone for whom those parts of my life are part of the deal.

Be honest about your attributes, including things like your body type and height. Yes, it’s silly if someone will only date men over 6ft or women under 80kg, but nevertheless, you’ll want to look for people who will love you for who you are, rather than resent people for wanting something else. It’s pointless to argue with people about what they have decided are their preferences. So many men obscure their height on dating sites because they fear women won’t date a short man, and really tall guys say that women only really want a man who’s somewhere between 5ft 9 and 6ft 2 or so - above or below that, apparently people get put off. But if a woman’s that judgemental they’ll just probably get dumped after the first date, so ultimately lying is still pointless. I personally didn’t care about height at all; some people I met didn’t list their height at all and it didn’t faze me (yep, they were short, no, that’s not the reason there wasn’t a second date). But I think people being honest about their height, particularly if they are pretty short, or pretty tall, is a pretty brave, confident thing to do. You deserve someone who accepts and loves you for whoever you are.

This also includes things like whether you’ve been married or have kids by a previous relationship. Again, if someone isn’t prepared to deal with that, then they aren’t right for you. These are the kinds of things that work best if gotten out of the way early on, because the later you leave revealing big things like this, the more people will feel like important things are being concealed from them. This also means being honest early on (I’d say during messages or around the first or second date) if you’ve just recently come out of a breakup; be prepared that other people might want to take it slow because they aren’t sure if you still have a lot of issues from your last relationship, or they might want to wait until you have taken some time to think and heal after your breakup. For example, one guy mentioned his ex turning up uninvited to events during messaging. He effectively invited me to join his gaming group on a date, having told me that his ex still plays with his gaming group. Now, if I’m dating someone yes, I’d love to meet their friends after a while, but intitially you just want to get to know a person by themselves. I don’t want high romance, but I don’t really want to turn into ‘one of the boys’ after the second date, either. And no, I don’t want to meet their very recent ex at these get togethers, nor do I want to replace her in his gaming group that soon; it all came across as likely to cause drama and hurt to everyone. I thought he would make a genuinely good friend, if I had the time to pick up new friends but I couldn’t see it leading to anything more. He agreed that he still had things to process, and I really hope that he has taken that time, and found that space and that he meets someone lovely. A few guys confided in me that they’d only recently got into dating after long breaks from dating or after a breakup and I don’t think it makes you less dateable, as long as you can make it clear that you are now ready to date and are serious about it, and have gotten to the point where it won’t massively hamper your current dating. Alternatively, if all you want to do is dip your feet in, and you don’t want anything serious then it’s good to be honest about that too; because there are lots of people who are happy with that.

If you’re in an open relationship, be honest. And no, it’s not an open relationship unless your current partner is aware and OK with you seeing other people, and all prospective new interests are also aware of the situation. Keeping anyone in equation in the dark is wrong. Yes, that might eliminate a lot of people, since a lot of people aren’t into that, but lying is not cool, and implicating people in things that would make them uncomfortable is also wrong. Be warned that if you have no photo, or have really blurry obscured photos, everyone is going to assume that you’re either cheating or on the run from the police. I came across one profile where the only picture was the dude in a literal balaclava. I don’t know how he thought he’d attract a woman with a photo that reveals none of his face, but who knows, maybe he got lucky.

Don’t lie about things like whether you want to get married, have kids etc. This is where acting in good faith comes in; tell people the truth, not what you think they want to hear. You need to find people who will want the same things as you, and people can’t do that if nobody is honest. Now, this is the real world, and a lot of people can’t necessarily fit their feelings into a neat ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer to those questions. If you aren’t sure, it’s OK to be honest about that; many people just want to see where things go, and that’s perfectly fine. Some people like the idea of these things, but really want to focus on meeting someone right first. Others are pretty sure that they want to be married in like, 2 years, tops, with a kid on the way. Personally, people who are super-keen to marry or have kids soon kind of scare me a little, even though I want those things, because I very much want to take things at whatever pace things come, so I struggled to know exactly how to put that across in my profile. Lying also makes things more difficult for everyone. Some people want casual relationships, but struggle to find others who are open about it. Meanwhile, lots of people who really just want casual setups (and mainly, well, sex) absolutely pretend that they are interested in much more, because they think people won’t give them a chance if they don’t go through the performance of pretending to eventually want a relationship. The thing to remember about people who lie is that it’s easy to promise the world if you have no intention of delivering. So it’s worth bearing in mind that if someone is talking about marriage and kids on like date 3, they might be very, very keen, or they might just be counting on the fact that’s what you want to hear. I wish I could tell you it was easy to tell the two apart. Having seen enough people get hurt by people who claimed to want one thing, but clearly wanted another, I have a hard time trusting what people write in these particular boxes until you really get to know a person.

I don’t think stating how much you earn is important, in fact, I wouldn’t. If you earn a lot of money, the last thing you want is someone who’s sought you out just because they thought you were rich. And yet, a lot of guys post pics next to shiny cars, mention how much their brand new house cost, and write about their summer homes and salary. Some of them even write explicitly that they aren’t into uh... people who are trying to take advantage of that. But that’s no use if your profile just reads like one long advert about how wealthy you are. I don’t know why people who are wealthy often feel they have to make it obvious, but it’s really not necessary. If you want someone to love you for who you are, not your money, then don’t hide behind your wealth, or use it as bait to attract people. If you emphasise only what you bring financially, you will attract people who value you only for that. The easiest way to avoid that is just to be discreet. I didn’t mention what I do or what I earn explicitly in my profile at all; only that I work in healthcare. I love and respect my nurses and physios; any man who’d date a doctor but not a nurse isn’t someone I want in my life.I’d never lie about what I do, but I didn’t think there was anything to be gained by boasting about it. I want someone to date me and find it cool that I happen to be a doctor, rather than someone to be dating me because they think doctors are smart, or rich or the kind of girl their parents want etc.

If you’re really stuck, I’d say that it’s a good idea to take a look at the profiles of people of your gender, to see what other people do, and work out which cliches to avoid. Looking at other profles of any gender can be a great way to see the difference between an interesting profile and a dull one. You’ll find that the more you look at profiles and date, the more you’ll build an idea of what you like (and want) and what you really don’t. I started out fairly neutral and doing my best to be forgiving, but found that I gained strong opinions on what makes a good profile after perusing so many of them.

#dx's dating tips #dx dates #dxdates

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andipxndy-writes · 5 years

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Life Is Hard - Sam & Kat

[[So you know how I love angst a lot? Well, this came more out of an angsty discussion where an idea popped into mind and I just kinda decided to sprint with it. But you have no idea how much I love this family just being a family - it’s the sweetest thing ever, and they pull each other through a lot.

So here’s another thing I wrote for @a-simple-rper - based off the family life that our muses Sam and Kat are thrown into at possibly the worst time in their lives, financially.

Enjoy!]]

Life Is Hard

Standing at the open window overlooking the street below, an unopened box of cigarettes in their hand, Sam was deep in thought. Fingering the box in their hand, never had they been more tempted to open it and light one than right then – just for the feel of the smoke, the nicotine rushing through their system, the sense of peace that came with the drug.

Or maybe they could take advantage of their night off, head down to the bar anyway and drink themselves stupid. To the point where Rick would either carry them back home or up to the spare bed.

But they couldn’t do that. Not to Rick. Not to Kat. Not on their good conscience, when three lives depended on them.

Three lives. Not one. Not two. But three. That was what seemed to be keeping them up late on a night where they would usually nod off without a care in the world. The fact that they were up at such a ridiculous hour should be more than enough to show that they had a lot on their mind.

They had three lives in their care. Three lives, and not a lot of money. As great as Rick was as a boss, it wasn’t like the man could suddenly afford to up his pay a lot when there were bills to pay. Sam wasn’t the only employee anymore, and the fact that he was dating the other gave her a bit of an advantage when it came to things like working out paycheques. At least, it did in Sam’s opinion.

Not that they didn’t like Laura. Well… they were terrified of her, to be honest; but she could be nice, they supposed.

But now they were stuck. For some reason, they’d had a conversation with some of the other dads at Kat’s pregnancy group, whatever it was called, and the subject of how much kids cost came up. Apparently, one of the other dads wasn’t exactly a new dad. And the conversation they’d had was… enlightening.

Not only were they going to pay for baby stuff (which they’d started buying already with Kat, and wasn’t cheap), but kids grew out of clothes quickly. So they’d have to be buying those regularly. Then there was the food, because apparently kids needed a lot of that – and a lot of the good stuff, not the shitty microwave stuff Sam could live on – to grow healthy. There was no way Sam was gonna let their kids not be healthy. Not after the childhood they had. Add to that the increased heating and water bills, because babies needed baths and they needed to stay warm when it was cold (they just had to have late fall babies, huh?), and raising a baby was expensive.

And that wasn’t even taking into account those toddler years. Kat would obviously have to go back to work, because they couldn’t live on just Sam’s salary, meaning they needed someone to take care of the kids. Kat’s mom would’ve been the obvious choice, but she wasn’t retired yet, so Sam couldn’t exactly call her out of a lecture to take care of her grandkids. That wasn’t fair. So they had to go for either a nanny, or daycare, and eventually pre-k. They knew Allie would be more than willing to nanny, but she was also still a student. They couldn’t ask her to cut her studying short just for them. And Jake had a full-time job. And there was no way Rick would let them raise children in a bar.

Oh God, after pre-k was actual school, and even if public schools were free, food was not. Packed lunch, or school lunch, that was gonna cost money. They’d have to get suitable clothes and shoes and… oh Lord, if their kids were anything like Kat’s brother, George, clothing was gonna be a bomb. And then there was the school books and the stationary and when they got to middle school did they have to buy reading books for literature? They’d have to look that up. And then there were the proms and the school trips and the birthday parties… oh God the birthday parties…

This wasn’t even taking into account the fact that there had to be a college fund.

And all of that mentioned earlier? Yeah, double it. Because they were having twins.

They were so lost in their thoughts that they didn’t hear the soft patter of feet behind them, until a blonde messy bun suddenly appeared in their peripheral. They visibly jumped, turning to see Kat stood there, heavily pregnant and looking adorable (in Sam’s opinion) all sleepy in her pajamas.

“Sammy?” she asked, yawning and rubbing her eyes tiredly. “What are you doing up…?”

“I was just… thinking,” they responded quietly, shrugging a little. Their usual crooked smile appeared on their face, but it didn’t reach their eyes.

Kat just stared at them for a few moments. “Right…” She took their arm, beginning to drag them back towards the bedroom. “It’s too late to think. Back to bed.”

“Don’t you mean too early?” Sam teased as they let themselves be dragged away, back to the bedroom. At the last moment, they threw the pack of cigarettes behind them, out of the window.

“Don’t make me think.” As the pair reached the bed, Kat hesitated for a moment, which made Sam pause.

“What?” they asked slowly, leaning down a little to look her in the eye.

She drew her lips to the side, before responding, “We’re gonna be okay, you know.”

Sam just stared at her for a few moments, before sighing and climbing into bed, carefully pulling her down beside them so that they could curl up together under the sheets. “I know, it’s just… hard to imagine, y’know?”

“Then don’t imagine,” Kat responded softly, caressing their cheek with her hand. “Just have faith.”

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Looking up from her own stack of reading papers, Allie was surprised to actually see Sam so focused on the worksheet in front of them. Despite their obvious lack of schooling, they actually seemed to be progressing well in their studies. They were almost at the end of elementary now, and soon enough they’d be moving on to middle school stuff. Allie promised she would celebrate the day they reached the high school curriculum, and had somehow managed to convince Rick to hold a graduation ceremony for them if they got through it all and passed.

After a few minutes, though, Allie realised Sam wasn’t actually focused on the worksheet.

“Hey,” she called, reaching over to tap their arm. They jumped at her touch, eyes wide, and looked up sharply at Allie.

“Oh, uh, hey…”

Her eyes narrowed at them. “What’s bugging you?” she asked, as blunt as ever.

Sam pursed their lips shut – a universal sign that they didn’t want to speak – and looked down at the worksheet again, but when they looked back up they realised Allie was still staring. They knew that look. Laura got that same look when she knew they’d done something wrong and she was gonna figure it out. Rick got that same look too. Heck, even Kat got that look sometimes when the twins were playing up.

“It’s… it’s nothing,” Sam answered finally in a quiet voice, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

She raised an eyebrow at them. “Are you sure…?” she asked, her own voice suddenly softer as she leaned forward. “Because I’m always here if you need it…”

Sam looked back down at the worksheet in front of them. They were finally getting some of the stuff, but clearly not enough to know how short they were on the bills payment that month when they’d decided to go and do some grocery shopping. So long water and heating. They’d have to get a second job if things were going to keep going like this.

“I’m sure,” they replied, going back to the work with renewed vigour.

Later that night, when they checked their wallet for spare change, they realised they knew exactly who had snuck in the cheque for a thousand dollars.

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Wiping down the bar, Rick sighed as he looked up. The bar was practically empty – Thursday evenings were apparently not meant to be that busy, which was fine for Rick. It meant that he had time to prepare for the inevitable weekend rush.

Hearing the door open, he looked up expecting to see a customer, and was pleasantly surprised to see Sam stood there, the twins at their legs. As much as he claimed it irritated him when they brought those two to work, he actually enjoyed having them around. Annabelle was shy and kept out of trouble by sticking to her dad (and keeping them out of trouble), whilst Tyler had to be the happiest three-year-old he’d ever met.

Except Rick distinctly remembered telling Sam to take the night off because it was going to be slow, to spend some time with Kat.

Kat wasn’t there.

Huh.

“Hiya, Unca’ Wick!” cane Tyler’s cheerful greeting as he ran over, waving wildly. Rick leaned on the bar, looking over at the little guy.

He had to admit, there was a soft spot for the kid. Somewhere.

“Hi, Tyler.” He then turned to Sam and the hiding Annabelle. “Hi, Annabelle.”

The little girl gave a wave from where she was hiding behind Sam’s legs. “Hello.”

Rick then looked Sam in the eye. “I thought I told you to take the night off?”

“You did. And I am. But I thought these two deserved a special dinner tonight,” the younger said with a wide grin, earning a cheer from Tyler and a bright smile from Annabelle.

It didn’t take a genius to see what was going on, and Rick turned back to Tyler. “Well, I guess you gotta go give your orders straight to the kitchen.”

“Okay!” Tyler exclaimed before running off, and soon enough Annabelle was racing after him.

As soon as the twins were safely in the kitchen (not that the kitchen was particularly safe for a pair of three-year-olds), Rick turned back to Sam. “Where’s Kat?” he asked as he went back to wiping down the counter.

Sam shrugged a little as they sat down, running a nervous hand through their short hair. Rick was pretty sure they’d picked up that habit from Jake. “Had to work tonight. Something about not doing her required hours, so they’re docking her pay unless she goes in to do some late work.”

Rick could hear the unspoken sentence: And we can’t afford to have her pay docked right now.

“Do they know she has kids?” he asked, though he felt as if he already knew the answer to his question.

“Do you think they care?” Sam let out a humourless laugh, crossing their arms and leaning down onto the bar counter. “If they did, they wouldn’t be docking her pay when our nanny cancels on us, would they?”

Rick started at them for a few moments, noticing how their shoulders were tensed and their jaw clenched, before letting out a slow sigh. “Dinner’s on the house.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? Rick, no—”

“Make sure you get the most expensive meal you can, because it’s not happening again.” He grabbed a glass from below the counter, ignoring the way Sam seemed to be protesting. “Pop?”

Despite what Rick said, it did, in fact, end up happening again.

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Walking around the bar in her pajamas, even on an open night, had become a norm for Laura ever since she’d become a parent. Heck, she couldn’t waste time caring about how she looked to the customers when she had screaming kids that needed juice, or sobbing toddlers that needed their Tylenol. Looking good for the customers was a daytime thing – once it hit ten, and the kitchen was closed, functional quality beat public approval by a long shot.

Which was why, when Rick called her down to check who was at the door round the back, Laura found herself standing in just her pajamas, face-to-face with her twin and her partner. And their two kids.

Tyler grinned up at her toothily, his little dinosaur backpack looking huge on his little four-year-old body. “Hi, Aunt Lauwa!”

Laura just stared at him, before looking back up at Kat. “That speech impediment is still there?”

“Give him a break, he’s four,” Kat laughed.

“I have three one-year-olds who could probably speak better,” Laura teased as she stood aside to let the family of four in.

“One of those one-year-olds literally screams her head off every time Rick tells her it’s bath time,” Sam pointed out with a snort, making Kat chuckle and Laura glare at them.

“I could literally teach her to scream at you,” she threatened, though she had a smirk on her face.

“Yeah, but I give her chocolate milk every time she sees me, so that’s not gonna work.”

Laura glared at them for a moment, before smiling down at the twins and kneeling in front of them. “Hey, so your momma tells me that you’re here for a sleepover! Is that true?” Both children nodded excitedly, and Laura chuckled. “Well, guess what? You get to sleep in your dad’s super cool old room! You remember where that is?”

“Yeah!” Tyler exclaimed, before racing up the stairs before anyone could say another word, Annabelle in her sunflower backpack right behind him. The adults simply laughed as they watched the pair race up the stairs, before Kat moved to follow them.

“I better make sure those two troublemakers don’t break anything. Or wake up the triplets.” She gave Sam a quick peck on the lips. “Don’t stay down too long. You know they won’t sleep if you’re not there.”

Sam nodded, watching Kat’s retreating figure with a smile. Though, as soon as she left, that smile faded and made way for exhaustion.

Laura watched their facial expressions carefully. “Heating…?” she asked softly.

Sam glanced over at her, not sure exactly what to say, before responding quietly, “And electricity. Water goes in two days.”

Laura nodded, biting her lip. “Stay as long as you need. We’ve got the space, even if it’s a tight fit, and the food.” Noticing the guilty look that was forming on their face, she added, “God knows Rick needs someone to show him up with the parenting side of things. Have you seen him change a diaper?”

Sam’s nose crinkled. “He’s still screwing up the diapers?”

“He put one on Claire backwards yesterday.” Granted, Claire had been giggling and crawling away as he’d tried to, but that served him right for using the bathroom floor instead of the changing table like she’d asked him to many times.

Sam smirked, before rolling up their sleeves and rubbing their hands together. “Looks like I’ve got some work to do. Hey, big guy!” They turned and headed not towards the stairs, but into the bar to mess with Rick, as usual.

Laura gave a small smile at Sam’s behaviour, almost tempted to call after them to keep the noise down, but instead she sighed as she shut the back door. It was going to be hectic, but having this huge family all in one place was going to be a lot of fun. She could tell.

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“I still I can’t believe I’m gonna be a dad.”

Sam actually gave a chuckle at Jake’s apparent surprise as they walked through the store, sharing a trolley between them. They didn’t quite understand why Jake had chosen them to go on a shopping trip with, but considering it meant they got out of helping out with stock and cleaning and they still got paid as if they were on shift, they weren’t complaining. They patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry – these next five months are gonna go by in a flash,” they said.

“That isn’t reassuring,” Jake pointed out, making a face at them. “That’s fucking terrifying.”

“I know. I wasn’t trying to reassure you.” They laughed at the punch to the shoulder they got in response, rubbing their shoulder.

Eventually the pair reached the kids’ aisles, and Jake slowed down as he looked through all the baby clothes.

“They’re all so tiny…” he murmured, reaching out to touch a tiny pink dress.

Sam gave a small smile. “Yeah, but they grow so fast.” They laughed a little as they held one of the baby boy outfits. “It feels like yesterday that Tyler was wearing something like this. Now he’s in kindergarten ruining almost every pair of pants he’s got.” They made a face. “Kids grow like weeds, oh my God.”

“Yeah, Ty’s gonna be a tall one,” Jake agreed with a laugh. As they continued to pass through the aisles, Jake realised Sam had stopped in the section for five and six year olds. He walked backwards towards them to see what they were looking at.

Hanging up was a pretty Disney Princess dress. Ever since Allie had introduced Annabelle to the Disney Princess movies, she’d been hooked on Aurora, saying something about how her daddy loved to sleep a lot too so she was her favourite. Sam had tried very hard not to take offense to that when Kat cracked up.

“That’s cute,” Jake said casually. “You thinking of Halloween costumes for double trouble?”

Sam let out a snort at Jake’s nickname for the twins. “Kinda? Kat was thinking of doing homemade costumes this year.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this the first year Anna has actually wanted a costume?”

“Yeah, and we can make it from scratch. Don’t worry.” They gave Jake one of their trademark grins.

Jake didn’t seem placated by Sam’s reassurances, but shrugged anyway, heading off to do the rest of the shopping. After all, they had a lot to do, and Rick still needed them back before the bar actually opened for the day.

It was after they’d finished, when Jake was dropping Sam off at the bar, that he handed them one of the carrier bags. Sam frowned.

“This for Rick?”

“No, for you.”

Sam’s eyes widened, almost looking as if they wanted to hand the bag straight back. “Dude, I didn’t ask for anything…”

Jake rolled his eyes at them, pushing the bag into their arms. “Take the damn bag and go,” he said, shooting them out of his car before driving off with a wave.

Sam rolled their eyes at him, before glancing around nervously and then looking into the bag. Their breath almost hitched at what they saw: a few pairs of kids’ jeans, some t-shirts, jumpers and cardigans.

And right on top? The princess dress, complete with a crown. For Annabelle.

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Sam started at the letter blankly in their hands. Not that they couldn’t read it, of course (even with their lack of education, they could at least read), but the words were just swimming on the page right then.

It was a letter for a field trip. The twins were barely six, of course, but their kindergarten class were doing a trip to Central Park to look at nature, or something like that, and draw the trees and the leaves. A ridiculous trip, in Sam’s eyes, but both of them were begging to go.

The only thing was, the school was going to provide them with lunch, and they were taking the school bus to the park. And they expected the parents to pay for fuel and food.

It didn’t really seem that expensive, considering they were splitting things with all the parents, but Sam didn’t have that kind of money. In fact, they didn’t have any kind of money. As it was, they were almost living paycheck to paycheck, and were trying to save up some money for repairs on their car, which had conveniently decided to break down last week, just before Kat had to go out of town for a conference. Which had resulted in them borrowing Jake’s car until the repairs could be done.

But they knew the looks they would get from their children if they told the twins they couldn’t go, and they couldn’t bear to face the tears that would come with them. And it wasn’t even as if they had anything to make up for not going…

Rubbing their hands through their hair frustratedly, they just about noticed Rick approaching them before they began to speak.

“Why is life so damn expensive?” they hissed, clenching their fists in their hair. “It’s just bills and rent and more bills and school and food and even more bills! Half the time I can’t even afford a decent meal!” Slamming their hands down on the bar counter, they continued, “And it’s not even as if anyone makes it easier! Goddamn college bosses don’t give a shit if you have kids and need to pick them up! And if you don’t have a nanny, well, you’re goddamn fucked! Stores keep raising their fucking prices and make everyone live on food stamps! Food stamps! Schools charge for a fucking education! That sort of shit should be free! Kids are suffering and not getting fed and can’t afford to live and all these people care about is fucking money!” They began to scrub at their face furiously, and suddenly their voice sounded like they were on the verge of tears. “I can’t even afford to take care of my own kids! They just drain and drain and drain and drain and drain and I love them so much but I have no money to take care of my wife and kids and—”

“Hey,” came the soft voice from beside them, only just loud enough to hear over the voices in their head screaming that they were a failure, they didn’t deserve to have kids and social services were gonna make sure they would never see them again. The gentle hand on their shoulder made them flinch and panic more, their breaths coming out in short puffs and their body beginning to shake. They couldn’t do this they couldn’t do this they were failing they weren’t good enough they were just destroying their kids they—

“Hey.” A firm hand landed on their other shoulder – a grounding hand that made Sam stop and listen to the firm, deep voice. Moving their hands away from their face, they looked up to see Rick stood in front of them on the other side of the bar, calm dark eyes staring straight at them. Calm dark eyes that conveyed the message that he would say if he actually wanted to speak.

“Why do you keep pushing us away?” Sam looked to the owner of the other hand on his shoulder and noticed it belonged to Allie. An Allie holding a tiny baby, but Allie nonetheless. When they didn’t answer, she sighed. “Sam, it’s okay to let us help you, you know.”

“Help with what? My failure in taking care of my own family?” Sam choked out harshly, looking away from her and almost pushing her hand off their shoulder.

“No,” Jake interjected, sitting on the other side of them at the bar and blocking off any possible escape route from the conversation. “The failure of the government to help you in taking care of your family. This system is shitty.”

“And we’re your family, Sam,” Allie pointed out. “We take care of each other, no matter what.”

Sam thought back to all the times these guys had helped them out over the years, without even them having to ask. Not even once had they demanded that they help in return – they’d just helped without questioning. And one look in Rick’s eyes told them that they would continue to help out no matter what.

Their eyes started to well up with tears, and then they heard the watery voice behind them.

“Don’t you ever call yourself a failure again.”

They span on the stool to see Kat stood there, eyes red from crying and tears still on her cheeks. They watched as she neared them, clearly still crying.

“Don’t call yourself what you aren’t. You are not a failure. You are a husband and a father and damn good at what you do. And I love you with every goddamn fiber of my being.”

Seeing that she was still crying made them begin to sob, and soon enough she was in their arms, the pair of them crying quietly. Multiple pairs of arms enveloped them, comforting them softly, until the sobs quieted down and they all slowly pulled away from each other. Except Kat, who kept her arms wrapped around Sam and her face buried in their chest as she stood in the space they’d made for her between their legs.

They placed a kiss on top of her head. “I’m sorry for worrying you like this…”

“I’m sorry for not making myself available for you to talk to about this,” she responded softly, her voice slightly muffled in their t-shirt.

The two were broken from their moment by the clearing of a throat, and Sam turned their head towards the person whilst Kat lifted her head to see who it was. Turned out it was Rick, sliding a small piece of paper across the bar to them.

A cheque of $150,000.

Kat’s mouth dropped open as Sam immediately began to shake his head. “No, we can’t take that from the bar…”

“It’s not from the bar,” Allie interrupted, drawing their attentions to her. “It’s mostly mine. And before you say anything,” she gestured to the baby in her arms, “Joseph already has a college fund set up. Take the money.”

“And if you need any more,” Jake added, causing the couple to turn to him, “please, for the love of all that is good in this world, fucking ask.”

“We’re literally a phone call away,” Laura added, leaning on the bar counter beside Rick. “Just call us when you need.”

Sam stared between the members of his makeshift family, eyes wide, before their eyes finally landed on their wife, who still had her arms wrapped around them, her eyes still shining with unshed tears but a hopeful smile on her face. A smile that made them smile back.

Life was hard. But they were going to be okay.

#written for: asimplerper #universe development: the simple life #muse development: kat banks #muse development: laura banks #muse development: allie leister #muse development: jake trent #writing: mine #writing: rp writings

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ofaphrvdite · 5 years

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silence ! raise the royal standard, for the duke of huéscar, ISANDRO DE TRASTÀMARA, has arrived. being 26 years old, he is sixth in line to the throne. many around the court call him the icarian, by virtue of him being suave and dynamic, while also being covetous and egotistical. — played by sean teale.

- THE BASICS.

full name: isandro alonso de trastàmara name meaning: isandro ‘liberator’, alonso ‘noble and ready’ known in history as: the usurper king, the king who avenged aurelia: the little rose, light of the east date of birth: june 3rd, 1992/1639 age: twenty six star sign: gemini profession: junior investment banker (modern verse) / duke of huéscar, heir apparent to the dukedom of alba, grandee of spain (royal verse) loyalty: spain, house trastàmara, the entente, eventually france and house du bourbon through marriage alignment: chaotic neutral mbti: esfj spoken languages: english, spanish, advanced french, advanced mandarin, intermediate german (modern verse) / spanish, english, advanced french, advanced portuguese, advanced latin, intermediate german, basic italian (royal verse) mother’s name: eleanor de trastàmara nee. mendoza (deceased in both verses), fifty two. father’s name: alonso de trastàmara, sixty siblings, if any: half brother, pedro moctezuma, thirty. half sister, elena de trastàmara, twenty-nine. height: 6’1” hair colour: black eye colour: brown

- BACKSTORY / MODERN VERSE.

there was little hope for isandro trastàmara developing any sense of ambition, as from his infancy he was taught nothing but how powerful his family was. ever since he was a baby, he had been raised by a hoard of the world’s best nannies - his own mother barely getting a look in. coming from a long line of incredibly successful bankers, and spanish nobility as his father loved to boast of, he was always provided with the very best that money could buy. he had everything he could ever want, resulting in a spoiled child who would grow into an entitled young man. and yet at every turn he was denied the only thing he craved - love. his father was always off on business trips, or with his latest flavour of the week, and his siblings were children all from different women, leaving the youngest of the brood alone in a home too large for a boy. in the turbulence of his childhood, there had been one sole grounding force, and that had been his mother. a woman who selflessly tried to devote as much time to her son as she possible could whilst her marriage self-destructed on the inside. there was no love between alonso and eleanor, only convenience. alonso had something pretty for his arm to make his ex wife seethe, and eleanor was able to stay in the country with her son.

it was aged ten when isandro’s only chance of forming any real familial bonds disappeared. and thus any hope that he might be saved from the trappings of his father’s legacy. on a bright sunny afternoon both mother and son were on their way back from izzy’s rugby practice and stopped for ice cream as they did every sunday. had he not insisted on handing the money to the ice cream man himself, perhaps his mother would not have chased the change he had dropped with clumsy hands into the street. maybe then she could have avoided the motorcycle that had swerved round the corner and sent his mother flying into the nearest windscreen. the memories of that day are buried deep, trauma locked away, but isandro can still remembers the screams of horrified onlookers, the screeching sound as the motorcyclist had sped away and the feeling of panic like a vice around his heart. he remembers the funeral though. how so few of her family had been able to attend, and most there had been men in suits from his father’s work that had barely known her more than her feigned smile. men who had patted him on the back and offered empty condolences to a child in a suit too big for him that only wanted a moment alone with his mother to say goodbye.

following his mothers death, isandro’s father sent him away to boarding school to keep him out from underneath his feet - adding to isandro’s already growing belief that it was his fate to be abandoned. within a few short years he moved on to eton after a hefty donation from alonso to study alongside the country’s future leaders. each year he would return home less and less, and the older he got, the more debauched his behavior grew. summers were spent abroad skiing in the alps, private yachts in cannes and villas in santorini. his exploits made front page news in the tabloids at home due to his high profile inner circle. among his friends were distant claimants to the british throne, sons of politicians, daughters of millionaires - all children who knew the numbness of an abandoned childhood that had been thrown together because they shared the same postcode.

oxford did little to settle his restless spirit despite all the threats from his father that he would be cut off. he had laughed in the man’s face. how could he ask for his lifestyle to be put aside, when it had been alonso who had flaunted the perks of it in his face for his entire life? his father had been no model citizen, certainly not a good husband nor parent, isandro could do nothing but mimic all he had ever known. throughout school he had always been told that he could do so much better - if only he applied himself. what was the point, he had asked, in trying when everything would always be handed to him anyway? complacency was the death of ambition afterall, and isandro was in no rush to leave behind the tornado that was his life. he would only be proven right when his acceptance letter for oxford had come in the post despite possessing none of the grades he needed. nepotism and a healthy donation to the great oxford library was all he’d really needed.

after graduation he had wandered europe for a year, as was the rite of passage for every child of the british upper class seeking to patronise all those lesser than them when they returned with tales of natives who lived such utterly simple lives. how else would they boast of how good a person they were if they hadn’t helped paint a school somewhere and then posted it all over the gram? he had put off his return for as long as possible, knowing a desk had already been reserved for him for the next forty years of his life. something he wasn’t eager to begin.

eventually his fathers patience could be pushed no further and he had begrudgingly returned to the uk and his new ( and so very exciting ) position as a junior investment banker in his father’s branch where he has remained ever since. the man is still as restless as ever, out every weekend and blowing his salary on ridiculous purchases. he hardly ever speaks to his family unless he utterly has to, most of their interactions now taking place at events that require a strong family presence. they all want their share of inheritance when dear old dad dies afterall. the only difference now is that he’s beginning to realise how meaningless his life really is, getting to an age where he’s beginning to wonder if he’s really just wasting the time he’s been given. ever since he was a child he’s only ever wanted to feel wanted, and that is perhaps the only thing in the world he can’t have.

- BACKSTORY / ROYAL VERSE.

it speaks volumes to his character that isandro de trastàmara was born third and youngest to his father, and yet it was he who would inherit the grandest title in spain below actual royalty. he had done little to earn the privileges in his life, and would grow to be a selfish and egocentric man - so expectant for good things as he had been bestowed them with no effort since birth. his eldest brother was born a bastard to his father’s mistress, and although he favoured pedro ( always so clever, so sensible, so very boring ), he was a brother to the crown. a prince in his own right. he would not deface the family name by legitimising him, and setting a dangerous precedent for someone so close to the throne. his first wife only bore him disappointment with a daughter and died in childbirth - leaving him still without a legitimate heir and now wifeless.

in his years abroad he met a young woman from a minor venezuelan noble family, awarded titles by the crown for their loyalties. she had been young and naive when brought to court for the king’s blessing, something he had begrudgingly granted, but soon discovered she was unwanted by spain. she was not of their country, not one of them, and yet it was the son she birthed that would seize so much power, who would be a cousin to the future rulers of spain. her life was a miserable one, none of the other highborn ladies would dare invite her into their society, leaving her lonely and isolated from her family. it was her son isandro who became her guiding light.

eleanor did her best to instill kindness and a decent moral compass in her son, knowing her husband would be attempting to warp him as best he could to bend to his will as she had. perhaps she may have succeeded and the future duke of alba would have been ruled by a good heart rather than bitterness and ruthless ambition. alas it was not meant to be, and her departure would serve only to darken him for many years before she was to be his guide in return.

isandro was only four years old when his mother was found murdered in the streets. her guards had abandoned her in favour of their lives and a small mob had claimed her life. though there were whispers it had been organised by someone higher up to look like an accident. he had been too young to understand why then, but the older he grew the more the need for vengeance had taken root in his heart. the king, his uncle, had done little to seek justice for his mother. and his father had not sought for it either. it had been an inconvenience at best but she was of no great loss to them when all was said and done.

and so isandro had grown up surrounded by nannies and tutors, no family to care for him. his elder brother too envious of missing out on a title he felt he deserved more, and his sister ambivalent towards her half brother, too caught up in the problems of her own life. his resentment grew against his cousins and the crown, festering over the years into something impossible to contain. when his cousin had succeeded the throne and began her reign of terror he had been more intent than ever that this must end. they had shared the same goal, and wished for spain to be as glorious as it always had been - but there was vast difference in their methods. he watched as his cousin’s bride charlotte was treated as a hostage for the entirety of her marriage, and then her pregnancy. as underhand deals left the foundations of greece unstable. murdering loved ones just to shake other rulers. and all under the guise of peace negotiations. so many innocent trampled that even he found no satisfaction in it, no matter how much it furthered spain’s plans.

he was by far not a good man. he had lied and cheated, feigned injury to escape from a war whilst men died for their country. had left a string of broken hearts behind him, leading women on before leaving them ruined. his behaviour was nothing short of selfish and reckless, and his father greatly disapproved. how could he trust his title to a son he didn’t believe had the responsibility to possess it? but alonso had always known how to bend others to his will, and isandro was no difference. threatening to cut his son off, he promised he would not see an ounce of his inheritance until he married a respectable bride. he had hoped this might settle the restless soul brewing in his son, and distract him from ideas of revenge he knew lay in wait.

unfortunately for alonso ( a blessing to isandro ) he won the hand of princess marguerite of france. a grand match to be sure, but two kindred spirits when it came to settling down. their’s was a betrothal of convenience for them both. isandro had no issues spoiling her as she deserved to be, and in turn he would get his inheritance. if anything, she fed into his ambition to take the crown from his cousins, to make spain what he thought it should be, and to give his future wife the throne she deserved. he had no wish to tame her, he much preferred a challenge, a partner that would push him. and she took no issue with his grey morality and less than sparkling record.

he is not at versailles to help bring about peace for europe. he doesn’t care if the continent tears itself in two, for he knows that spain will withstand it all. though he plays the part of dutiful noble, he is eager to secure support for his rapidly increasing coup. though he pretends it’s for selfish means, for revenge for his mother, there is an element of redemption to his cause. for so long he had sat idly by while innocents suffered at the hand of his queen, his family, and it had blackened his heart. perhaps he is not smart enough to wear the crown, and his morality is too confused to ever be a just ruler - but he is confident enough that his rule would be a kinder one than the tyranny currently subjected to them.

#! * INTRODUCTION / isandro.#! * INTRODUCTIONS.#izzy's intro is the equivalent of a spiderman origin story #in that #izzy's mum is the uncle ben that i must kill every single time

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khazelton98-blog · 5 years

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The XX of Equal Pay

In this blog post, I will be writing about the Gender pay gap and I will touch on factors that cause the pay gap. I will talk about the dark truth of media companies who are I may add owned by old rich billionaires which I will include their opinion on the matter (eyeroll) and see if there are issues with the gender pay gap in their company mainly focusing on the BBC issues with the gender pay gap.

As we know the BBC gender pay gap caused a lot of questions in the media industry on unequal pay for women. This happened because of the UK government demanded that the BBC had to release figures of those who work at the BBC who earn more than 150,000 pounds as a part of it’s so-called “royal charter’ ( which basically guarantees that the corporation will receive its license fee for another 11 years). The BBC published those who earned more than 150,000 pounds of the 96 only a third of them were women. The BBC consistently objects to the disclosure describing it as “poachers” that will drive salaries up in the media industry and that it helps others in the media industry headhunt its staff. (Ruddick,2019) Even though the list is not very long it is important to note that it is the payment that the BBC was directly paid from the license fee. This means that payments made to other staff members from independently run production companies and BBC worldwide is not included in this so-called “headhunt”. This is why some absolute BBC legends are missed off the list such as Sir David Attenborough, David Dimbleby, Matt Leblanc to name a few are missed off the list due to the fact the cut off is 450,000 another example is Sherlock which stars Benedict Cumberbatch are not included due to been made by an independent production company. (Clarke and Clarke,2019)

The gender pay gap shows of the 96 that 62 were men and 34 were women. This reveals even more than just a simple lack of women that there is also a lack of ethnic diversity among those who are earning the big bucks at BBC. In 2016 it revealed that British journalism is 94% white. (Hitsch,2019) There is even evidence that the industry is lacking diversity and that people from a less snooty background are being overlooked. Mr. David Lammy (a Labour MP from Tottenham) on the 14th April 2016 made this statement in parliament “ I beg to move, that this house notes the crucial cultural role the BBC plays in modern Britan; welcomes the fact that one of the public purposes outlined in the BBC charter is to represent the UK, its nations, regions and communities; notes with concern that the last employment census in 2012 showed the number of black, Asian and minority ethnic people working in the UK creative media fell by 30.9% between 2006 and 2012; believes that a BBC target of 14.2% for 2017 is insufficient.” (Hansard.parliament.uk,2019)

This is after BBC editor Carrie Gracie resigned in January after she said that women employees were discriminated over equal pay. In response to her claims a BBC spokesman (no surprise there) said:

“While we still have more to do, much of this report is already out of date. Recent disclosures by other media organizations show that the BBC’s gender pay gap is amongst the smallest and well below the national average.” Here is the funny thing about this statement he says it’s amongst the smallest but yet there shouldn't even be a slight gender pay gap. So he carries on saying...

“But we do hold ourselves to a higher standard. This is why our action on pay has seen the BBC make real progress in addressing equal pay cases; carrying out an independent audit of equal pay; introduce independent oversight so that disputes can be resolved; take clear steps to rebalance top talent pay; reform out pay structure to ensure fairness and give an unprecedented level of transparency and information about pay ranges for all staff; and set up independent reviews to see what further steps should be taken on pay transparency.

That's why so many colleges have contributed to project were doing- on gender, ethnicity, disability, LGBT and socio-economic diversity. We all want to make this a great place to work, where people are properly rewarded for their expertise and experience” (Press Gazette,2019)

Going off from this statement what a load of pretentious old tosh to come out of BBC ( from a MALE spokesman had to type MALE aggressively their).

Surprise surprise.. the gender pay gap just doesn't happen in the BBC it happens all over the media industry it's funny because all these other big cats sure like to jump to the gun about BBC but yet their only doing the same thing. Many women are losing out to men in pay, with them earning more, more senior roles and getting big bonuses, the government gender pay reporting service revealed. The press Gazette showed that 91 percent of UK-based media companies paid men more than women on average based on the mean hourly rate, and 85% paid more in mean bonus pay. This is not because us women are less qualified or few enter the industry. Prime minister (bless her a lot of sarcasm there) choose the Telegraph to write about the issue about the new gender reporting rules she says “ By making this information public, organizations will no longer have anywhere to hide. Shareholders and customers will expect to see improvements and will be able to hold organizations to account if they fail to achieve them.” (Ruddick,2019)

Yet this lovely little statement in the Telegraph is so biased because they have the highest gender pay gaps in the media, with women getting paid 35% less than men on average. 3/4 of the Telegraph highest-paid staff are men, with women working 61.6% of the lower jobs. Men received bonuses of almost twice paid to women on average. Even though it is an issue in the Telegraph it is the only media company that targets to have a zero gender pay gap across the company. Nick Hugh (Telegraphs groups chief executive) has set 2025 as the year by which the company must achieve this saying it “demonstrates where we see the future of the telegraph.” They pledge to monitor frequently and improved maternity benefits. It has offered the option for more flexible working, while 50/50 gender shortlists were introduced for all of its roles. Some others in media want to reach a zero gender pay gap sooner but only within higher brackets, while others have said they are aiming for total gender parity without setting a deadline. For example, The Financial Times aims to achieve gender parity across its global leadership by 2022, Sky pledges to fill half of its senior roles with women by 2020 and The Guardian targets a 50/50 gender balance in the top half of the organization within 5 years. (Press Gazette,2019)

BBC’s TV competitors ITN, which produces news for ITV, Channel 4 and 5. Paid men an average of 19.6% more than women and bonus payments jumped to 77.2%. (National Union of Journalist,2019.) Their excuses for this are even funnier they mainly have more men in senior roles with 17 of its 20 top earners being men. The company has published “TARGETS” which are a 50% reduction in the pay gap within 5 years and a third of the 20 top earned will be occupied by women within 3 years, that it will publish salary bands, introduce a development program for high potential women and men, family-friendly working policies. Yes, this does sound all lovely but the fact is still why 5 years why not now. There shouldn't be a program they should see potential from now and why do they need to make targets it should just be automatically in place now we should be equal now not in a few years. Women at ITN and BBC set up a Whatsapp group to discuss concerns on the pay gap. Natasha Morris legal and equality officer for NUJ says “ It is clear from the latest figures more needs to be done to support women into senior positions within the workplace, ensuring the maternity leave does not mean the end of career progression. It is vital that companies are transparent about pay and where inequality is identified and immediate measures are taken.” (Press, Gazette 2019)

A book called Lifetime Disadvantage, Discrimination and The Gender Workforce by Susan Bisom-Tapp (a professor of Law in California) and Malcolm Sargeant (a professor of Labour Law at Middlesex uni). Which as your reading this I recommend you have a mental checking list in your head ticking if you feel like this is you because for me personally I totally agree with their points and I agree that being a woman in 2019 still has disadvantages and have handled a lot of discrimination on a daily basis.

They write about Gender-based factors which effect from a very early point in their lives as girls and later as women. One of the factors is education and training whilst education is an area where young women have made progress, young women are maximizing their potential. In terms of educations access, attainment, and ambition. In terms of education access, attainment, and ambition, girls on average in OECD counties ( The Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development which included the UK.) Amongst OECD counties, girls on average are more likely than boys to anticipate in high-status careers. Side note I as a women hope to be in a high-status career. Young women clearly are more into undergradute study as on average in OECD counties 59% are female university graduates. So from this, no media company can’t technically say women are not qualified because there is the proof in the pudding we are more likely to have a degree so, therefore, why are we not seen to be more ambitious than males just from that fact.

Stereotyping is the second factor in the model. Which begins in the classroom and extending into the workplace, gender beliefs about the different characteristics of male and females may lead to differential treatment. In the classroom, boys tend to receive more praise than girls are more frequently accepted. Research reveals that girls are likely to be rewarded for quite and compliant behavior. Which I agree with I felt like this was a problem personally primary and secondary school it was like its accepted for girls not to have a voice and that we should be quiet and poised which is completely wrong we should be outspoken because without it change will not happen. Despite the long-standing prohibition of sex discrimination in the workplace as well. These biases may infect articulation of a given jobs description and skill requirements and the way employment decisions are made. Due to this stereotyping, this has an enormous effect on occupational advancement over time. Which kind of suck for us women because it feels like these companies are writing rubbish job descriptions to hold us back which is not fair.

Income inequality is another factor is the UK is high, with a rank of sixth amongst the (OECD). The top 10% average income in 2012 was 10.5 times that of the bottom 10% owning 47% of the country’s net wealth. Multiple discrimination women may occupy statuses that further complicate the way in which they are being viewed and treated. One complicating factors is the issue of ageing which I think is so ageist that older workers are viewed as less competent and more difficult to train and more expensive than a younger worker. Which in my opinion is wrong because older people have earned their stripes, their experience so therefore they should be an expense its only fair. Women can encounter other issues and their position in the workplace including minority race-ethnicity, migration status, religion, disability, and sexual orientation. This is terrible not only just because we are women it's all these so-called attachments that can affect us which shouldn't be the case. Who cares where you from, what you believe, what you like or what you believe in. Those with children may collide with a ‘maternal wall’, which diverts or even terminate career paths when women become pregnant, give birth or choose to work in part-time or flexible work arrangements in order to meet family responsibilities. Whilst some women may have to choose a ‘zero hours’ contracts (which are vile and should be full stop banned). Their pay may suffer from working in such positions and which could affect retirement savings and planning. Women can find the unpredictable hours of work be troublesome with caregiving responsibilities.

To finish this off the gender pay gap will always be a burning issue in the media industry due to being an “a mans world” and fat cats such a Mr. Murdoch, the brothers, and other idiotic pigs it will not change until there is a change in the upper parts of the media industry. It should be an industry for everybody but sadly it is not. I believe there should be a constant review on the gender pay gap and it should be changed instantly it shouldn't take years because if they can give bonuses to men so easily, they can do the same for women. The disadvantages of being a woman in the media industry out ways the positives it is very sad to see in the 21st century we are still dealing with issues of women not been seen the same as males. Women have fought for decades before for equality and yet we seem to be in the same boat decades later. I can see how women feel unfortunate to be a woman because of the way they are being treated but we need to stand up for what we want and not just look at the basic gender pay gap but look at all the others issues such as race and factors that are simply out of our control and more importantly stereotypes. This is what news should be about rather than the fat cats slating each other when they are all as bad as each other. The change will happen but it looks like it will be a long time till it is in reach.

word count: 2402

#unequalpay #bbc #genderpaygap

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sahlo-folinah · 6 years

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Kindling.

How... utterly disappointing.

The world is such a vibrant place. Filled with wonders and twists that can no longer be catalogued in a sensible way, the chaotic nature of society having uprooted what once was, creating something new and somewhat terrifying. The new world is different, far too different, and it has been moulded and shaped into an ideology that many seek to conform to.

An ideology that, strangely enough, leaves a very bitter taste in his mouth.

Still, the technicolour world feels like a sham, a curtain that’s been pulled before his very eyes, the man or self proclaimed magician who decreed privacy under the pretences of a show promptly disappearing, and when he dared to peek beyond those curtains, the show that awaited was far from what he expected, far from what he believed to be occurring.

The new world is... it’s nothing like what it should be. It is wrong. It is filled with those who aspire to be a lie, a foundation built upon a throne of deceit and vague notions of fame and sensibility.

Respect. Honour. Esteem.

No. No.

Money and power.

That’s what it’s been whittled down to. That’s what the romanticised version of heroism has been reduced to, much like how his flames have reduced proud structures into rubble, into ash.

They have dirtied the word, ruined it. These women and men that prance around in their uniforms and costumes, claiming to be heroes are nothing of the sort.

He sees beyond the film they’ve placed over their skin. He sees the pretences, the egoism, the omnipotence emerging.

He sees. He knows.

And he will no longer stand by and watch. No.

The emergence of that eccentric killer inspired a sense of urgency that was not there before, despite his disgruntlement already existing with the current state of things. The killer struck a chord, dancing into the limelight with the tact of a toddler at a wedding, preening and spewing words that oddly... strangely resonated. Words that, despite being spit out of a mouth that lacked subtlety, were reputable.

An ideology that Dabi could finally get behind.

The hero society, it feels cold, bitter, like ash on the tongue.

Heroes are self righteous. They lie. They preen before cameras, they laugh graciously under the lights shone down upon them, shrugging off compliments whilst simultaneously egging them on, desperate for more. Their identify, their self worth is built upon the approval and donations of those they save.

And then the donations became expected.

The lines began to blur.

Heroes were - no, are no longer heroes. They’re paid martyrs, salaried workers that have come to expect, thrusting out chubby hands demanding more, more, more.

And Dabi is... he’s disappointed.

They huddle before him now, five or six of them, a few definitely hidden beyond the rubble surrounding the destruction he’s created. And they stare up at him from their knees, eyes wide, red and sore from the smoke that circles into the air, clogging and creating a viscous layer.

They cough, blood leaking from various wounds, leaning on one another, a last show of solidarity that has him turning his cheek to them, a soft ‘tch’ escaping his scarred lips.

Even now, they cling to the radical notion of ‘hope’, of ‘good’ triumphing over ‘evil’. They’re ignorant. They’re wrong.

And he is here to show them just how wrong they are.

He’s seen a few of them before, the local news channels love to dote on the up and comers. One man, dressed in dark shades of blue and red can cause any item he touches to become intangible for a short period of time, whilst the woman clutching his torso can leap for large distances.

Considering state her legs are in though, Dabi doubts that she will be doing that any time soon. The others are gathered around them in similar positions, and he watches with a lazy glare as more emerge from the cracks within the concrete jungle, faces set like stone, determination positively burning behind their eyes.

It sickens him.

They just don’t get it. They don’t know how ridiculous they are, how mildly infuriating they’re becoming.

Too bad they’re funnelling directly into his path.

Ideally Dabi was hoping to pass through the misshapen lane undetected. Alas, fate had different plans for him this evening. And here they are now, facing off, probably ten to one, soon to be more if this continues.

Like ants they crawl out of the woodwork, teeth grit and hands clawed, ready to seize him.

They recognise him too, and he leans back, chin rising ever so slightly as one of the braver ones moves forwards.

He’s new, wearing tight spandex that frankly, looks absolutely ridiculous. Twice would be having a field day if he were here right now, but Dabi is the only member of L.O.V at the moment, and the weight of their stares is heavy.

“Stand down, Dabi. We know who you are. Come with us quickly and quietly, and nobody else has to get hurt. We’ll be taking you to the station.”

Oh, how comical. Honestly. These heroes, how they amuse him.

To think that they actually believe they have him.

Dabi cocks his head to the side, fully aware of the mounting odds against him, however. Despite his confidence, the longer he waits the higher the chances of someone sneaking up on him and escaping this self made funnel they’ve imposed on themselves. Still, he’s not one to miss an opportunity.

He raises a dark brow, metal stitches pinching the skin beneath his eyes, pulling at the neat line that separates the smooth skin of his cheeks from his scarred lower jaw.

“But how, pray tell, do you suppose you’ll do such a thing, hero?” His voice is slow, gravelly and confident, and the man before him wavers. Sweat dribbles down his temple and he swallows, eyes flickering about Dabi’s lean form.

When no response comes Dabi steps forwards, head still tilted. He’s at least a foot taller than the smaller man before him, and the height advantage gives him an air of superiority that frankly, feels far too good.

When more heroes begin to step out of the frameworks however, he sighs, stopping in his place, booted feet coming to rest against the concrete slab he’s stood upon.

Things always end far too quickly, but honestly, these heroes are one and the same, and his time is running out.

Still, how utterly disappointing.

They sweat and cry and shiver before him, feigning bravery, spitting in the face of his clear display of superior strength. The odds are against them despite their numbers, and either they’re too egotistical to realise, or they’re simply too stupid to understand just what they’ve gotten themselves into.

Either way, as Dabi raises a hand, the scarred skin of his arms beginning to darken as the azure haze of his flames flicker into existence, he can’t help but release a sigh.

How distasteful.

The force of his flames throws his arm back, a whoosh of heat that bursts forth, roaring into existence and consuming with a ferocity that burns bright and true. They spread far and wide, licking the very corners of the open top tunnel before him, howling into the dusk that’s settled through the darkening sky and rising above the cacophony of screams that erupt from their throats moments later.

The wails don’t last long, and he whips his arm back, severing the flow of heat and fire with a swift flick of his wrist. Flickers of blue wisps emanate from his palm, from his fingers as he holds the limb down by his side, taking in the ash that’s rising with the wind.

Now this... this sight is beautiful. The dark embers flutter upwards, painting the red sky black, scattering like confetti in the wind and a small smile graces his lips.

They are inconsequential, a means to an end.

They are the lies that now paint the air, a show of beauty embedded within tragedy.

The trill of his phone pulls his gaze from the sadistic serenity, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his long coat, continuing on his path through the city, cerulean blues alight with satisfaction.

These heroes.

They’re all just walking kindling.

#dabi #dabi bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #society #ideology #idk man #i had to #needed to write this #fire #short story #my head is full

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hamilton67hamilton-blog · 5 years

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Because she doesnt have the money to stay at the dementia home we must move mama back home she's currently in. Funds keep growing. Because of the medicaid five-year step-down she will meet the requirements in two years. Till then Cheap car insurance provider? Im 21 years old and looking for cheap car insurance, i have been on all the price comparison website but they are still to pricey for me. I would recommend you to try this web site where you can get quotes from different companies: http://4INSURANCEQUOTES.XYZ

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acuppellarp · 6 years

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Welcome to A Cup-pella, Amy! We’re excited to have you and Brandy Weston in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Amy, she/her Age: 23 Timezone: GMT Ships: Chemistry. Anti-Ships: No chemistry.

IC INFO

Full Name: Brandy Weston Face Claim: Anne Hathaway Age/Birthday: 27. November 22 1990. Occupation: Pharmaceutical rep Personality: Charming, confident, defensive, arrogant, passionate Hometown: Bozeman, Montana Bio: Brandy was born to single mother Alexandra Weston, in Bozeman, Montana. When she was younger, she’d always ask about her father, but her mother would always spin her some tale of a whirlwind romance that ended too soon. As she grew older, she learned that her magical father was just some dirtbag who left her mom as soon as she fell pregnant. Even though Brandy grew up with very little, she grew up grateful. Grateful for her mother, who busted her ass at two jobs to ensure that Brandy wasn’t that kid at school with the raggedy hand-me-downs.

Brandy vowed that as soon as she was old enough, she’d find a way to repay her mother for all she did for her. She’d get herself a swanky job in a big city, buy her mother a house, and say a great big thank you. Yet as she grew older, she was less interested in the academics, and more interested in the arts. She dreamed of one day becoming an actress, but she knew that the likelihood of ever getting there was pretty low. It wasn’t until she got the lead role in her high school production, that Alexandra urged her to pursue her passion, and apply for musical theatre at Berklee.

College was truly eye-opening for Brandy. Being apart from her mom was hard - Alexandra really was her best friend, and she missed her every single day. But college really taught her how to live - how to be more confident, how to stand up for herself, and how to explore her sexuality. She found herself sleeping with plenty of guys and girls, before realising that she was only really interested in connecting romantically with women. Sex was one thing she knew she was good at, though, and so she began sex work as a way to get some extra cash. It paid more and was less time consuming than a waiting job, and though she could never quite explain why, it empowered her.

After college, Brandy ran off to New York, her head still filled with her big dreams of being a star. Though as we know, things don’t always go to plan. With the exception of the odd am-dram performance, and independent movies, she hasn’t really made much of a name for herself. So she did what she promised her mom she’d never do - she gave up. A friend of hers helped her find a job as a pharmaceutical rep - it was good money, and her charm and charisma made her an absolute natural at it. Brandy hates being told she gave up, though. She thinks of it as merely taking a break. Even if that break has been years long.

Pets: None, but she really wants a dog.

Relationships:

- Rachel Berry: Rachel is Brandy’s old flame, if you can really call it that. Whilst they could call themselves friends, the fact is that it was always much more than that. Boyfriends and girlfriends would come and go, but every time they were single, they’d be drawn back to each other and they’d find themselves in the others bed. When Brandy heard that Rachel had finally made her way to New York, she was over the moon to be reunited with her friend. And if they fell back into old habits, then she wouldn’t say no.

- Chloe Anderson: Brandy likes the finer things in life, but even on her salary, she couldn’t quite afford the apartment she truly wanted. That’s when she found Chloe. The two get along great - they give each other the space they need, but they’re both always 100% ready for a wine and Hamilton sing-a-long evening.

EXTRA INFO

brandy 🌙 // brandywest // legal drug dealer. i look really good in leather jackets.

Five latest tweets:

@brandywest: full offence, but if you don’t think sex workers are valid, then you can go fuck yourself… @brandywest: i’ve just watched mamma mia 2 for the third time, and lily james could get it so bad #bemywife #takeachanceonme @brandywest: not sure if i want to eat, or be eaten out. anyone want to help me decide? 💦🍑 @brandywest: not to blow my own trumpet, but i just performed the whole of one day more on my own in the shower. i’m available for birthdays, weddings, and bar mitzvahs. @brandywest: my mom keeps knitting me sweaters so i don’t get too cold out here in new york. she’s the sweetest.

#accepted

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andyouknowitis · 6 years

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The BBC is facing multiple investigations after being accused of “silencing” gender discrimination and harassment victims through its use of non-disclosure agreements, The Independent can reveal.

Tony Hall, the director general, will be questioned on the issue by the influential Culture, Media and Sport Select Committee next week, while the Women and Equalities Select Committee would also now debate the issue, its chair Maria Miller said.

Dozens of cross-party MPs have also written to the National Audit Office (NAO) demanding it too launch a formal inquiry.

The broadcaster stopped using so-called “gagging” clauses in 2013 in the wake of the Jimmy Savile scandal. But there are fears the BBC is using public money to fund court confidential settlements, known as non-disclosure agreements (NDAs), in order to keep allegations secret.

In a joint letter signed by 30 MPs including senior Conservative Nicky Morgan, the former Education Secretary, and parliamentarians from Labour, the SNP and the Liberal Democrats, they suggested the BBC’s use of the legal documents was “silencing the voices of victims”.

The letter said: “In our view the use of public money – collected from our constituents through the license fee – to conduct legal proceedings which pay off and silence victims whilst covering up wrongdoing would be wholly unacceptable and we feel that this matter must be investigated as a matter of urgency.”

Last night, the BBC confirmed that it continues to use settlement agreements that include confidentiality clauses to stop employees speaking out. It refused to disclose how many have been issued in recent years and said their use was “limited”.

Tory MP Damian Collins, chair of the Culture, Media and Sport Select Committee, told The Independent “the issue was likely to be raised” on Wednesday, while Ms Miller, a former Conservative culture secretary, said the use of NDAs was an issue “we should all be concerned about”.

“Across the board non-disclosure agreements are being used to silence people and stop them talking about their experiences within organisations,” she said.

“There is a real concern that these agreements are being used to disguise unlawful activities.”

She added: “Public bodies should not be using taxpayers’ money to potentially stop people talking about their experiences of behaviour that is unlawful.”

Ms Miller suggested organisations could be forced to publish how many NDAs they have entered into, and criticised the BBC for refusing to disclose to The Independent how many settlement agreements it has utilised in recent years.

She added: “I think it’s unacceptable that an organisation like the BBC would refuse to acknowledge or make public how many settlement agreements they’ve entered into. Without that transparency it’s impossible to know the scale on which they’re being used.”

It comes after Downing Street announced Theresa May would look at the wider use of NDAs following the scandal over the Presidents Club dinner, at which numerous women allege they were sexually harassed. Many of the victims had been made to sign NDAs in relation to the event.

Speaking to The Independent, two former Conservative culture secretaries also raised concerns over the BBC’s approach.

In addition to Ms Miller, John Whittingdale said the BBC should not be using public money to silence victims.

“I’m very uncomfortable with the idea of the BBC enforcing non-disclosure agreements, particularly since I was the one who pushed for transparency over top salaries at the BBC”, he said.

“Any money paid out by the BBC is ultimately public money and I’m not comfortable at all with the idea the public aren’t being told how their money is being spent.

“If it falls within the remit of the National Audit Office, I’m sympathetic to the suggestion they should investigate.”

Mr Whittingdale also said it was right for the DCMS Select Committee to look at the issue. “If I was running the select committee this is something I would be looking at closely,” he said.

Labour’s David Lammy MP, a former culture minister who is co-ordinating the letter from MPs, said: “I was alarmed to read Carrie Gracie’s resignation letter and it is wholly unacceptable for taxpayers’ money to be spent on these legal proceedings, out of court settlements and agreements and there is a significant public interest in getting to the bottom of this issue.

“I fear that the widespread use of non-disclosure agreements in silencing accusers means that institutions can avoid facing up to wider, systemic problems at play here that must be tackled in a transparent and open manner.”

The BBC said it had not used a settlement agreement in relation to an equal pay issue for two years but confirmed the agreements are still used in relation to other disputes.

The BBC’s former China Editor criticised the use of non-disclosure agreements when she resigned from the role over pay inequality earlier this month.

Carrie Gracie on quitting the BBC over equal pay: There is a ‘hunger for an equal, fair and transparent pay system’

In her resignation letter to BBC executives, Carrie Gracie, who is also appearing before the committee on Wednesday, wrote: “Speaking out carries the risk of disciplinary measures or even dismissal; litigation can destroy careers and be financially ruinous. The BBC often settles cases out of court and demands non-disclosure agreements.”

The Independent understands that former BBC employees who have signed NDAs believe they are only allowed to speak about their experience if forced to do so in court or when protected by parliamentary privilege, such as during a select committee appearance.

A BBC spokesman said: “The BBC hasn’t settled an equal pay claim raised by an employee with a settlement agreement for over two years. Since the pay disclosures last year, it’s been widely reported that a number of women have come forward raising queries about their pay. We have resolved a number of these, none of which has involved requiring confidentiality.

“The BBC also has clear processes so staff can raise any concerns about bullying, harassment and unfair treatment, and whistleblowers are protected by law even if they have entered into a settlement agreement.”

#i've been following this with interest #ndas #non disclosure agreements #important #it needs to stop #tina stowell raised the question in the house of lords too #i feel like it's not going to be let go this time #due to the use of public money to do it

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reds-self-ships · 3 years

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🔍 The Adventure of the Detection Club

Chapter 13: Witness Testimony & Cross Examination - Det. Athelney Jones and The Coroner

Table of Contents & Trigger Warnings

⚠ Chapter Specific Warnings: Contains allusions to spoilers for The Great Ace Attorney 2, as well as passing references made to blood and gore.

Detective Athelney Jones took to the witness stand, his trademark cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth and the end of it carefully targeted so that the ash fell into the breast pocket of his faded grey overcoat, the usual disdainful snarl on his face.

Dr. Yujin Mikotoba was as straight-faced as ever, having changed his medical get-up to his much more formal and fashionable dark blue western-style suit with a red cravat and gold pin and a black fedora hat with a white band around it.

Abidon spoke: “Will the witnesses state their name and occupation for the record?”

“I’m Detective Athelney Jones, part of Scotland Yard’s criminal investigative division, and I’m the detective that was assigned to investigate this particular case.”

“And I’m Dr. Yujin Mikotoba. I’m a professor of medical science at Imperial Yumei University, but I’m the current acting coroner on behalf of Scotland Yard.”

“Detective Jones,” said Abidon, “why is it that you believed Mr. Ninate, the defendant, to be the killer?”

“It’s as you’ve already explained, prosecutor—the defendant was the only one who had access to the scene of the crime at the time. Not only that, but we are confident that we are able to prove the defendant’s motive, means andopportunity for the incident.”

“Excellent. Please testify your reason for believing in the defendant’s guilt, detective,” said the Judge.

Witness Testimony

Motive, Means and Opportunity For Murder

“This crime is an almost perfect recreation of a so-called ‘locked room mystery’,” testified Jones. “At the crime scene there is a thick impenetrable door, with a recently-designed lock that is specially designed to break and become entirely unusable if anybody were to attempt to pick it or fiddle with it in any manner.

“The only person who had access to a key for this impenetrable door was the defendant himself—something that he’s admitted to already. The key that the defendant owns is the only copy in existence.

“As for motive and means, the defendant, who has anger issues already; given that he’s become aggressive towards officers, such as myself, on numerous occasions—”

“—I have not! And if I did it was probably bloody well deserved!”

The judge hit his gavel. “The defendant will remain quiet whilst the detective testifies!”

“As I was saying,” Jones continued with a sniff, “I’m no alienist or whatever fancy titles they have out there these days, but I would likely guess that Mr. Thomas told the victim that he was going to refuse payment or something which caused the defendant to fly into a rage.

“With that, he grabbed the closest thing to him, which was that skull over there, and used it to knock clobber the victim over the ‘ead until he stopped twitching about. At least that’s what I’d reckon anyway.”

“The prosecution makes a rather compelling argument,” said the judge with a nod. “But this is, indeed, the most peculiar kind of case that we’re examining at the moment.”

“HOLD IT!”

“Milord, may I ask the defendant a question?” asked the first juror, pulling a pair of goggles over her eyes.

“Juror #1? Er, yes, well I suppose you might as well…”

“OK defendant, what kinda lock are we talking about?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well?”

“Well it’s a new-ish one, got it installed directly from Chubb.”

“And what’s the name of it?”

“Eh?”

“What’s the model, what’re we talking about?”

“I think it was model #813 or something like that, miss. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

“I know it well. See, I’m an engineer myself and I’ve installed that kind of lock before. I can vouch for that Detective Jones’s statement that it’s designed not to be picked or fiddled about with. So I could definitely say I’ve made up my mind anyway. Guilty!”

With that, she knocked a rather heavy-looking metal drill upon the jury’s bench and sent a fireball soaring through the air and into the “guilty” side of the scales, tipping it further towards the prosecution.

“I, too, have experience in these locks, and they are incredibly fiddly little things,” said the fifth juror, “So I would say myself that this defendant is almost certainly…Guilty!”

The fifth juror launched another fireball, with the scale tipped increasingly in favour of the prosecution.

“It’s only three out of six, Mr. Naruhodo. That’s only fifty per-cent,” said Susato quietly.

“I, er, have specific experience in handling locked rooms myself,” said the sixth juror, playing with her hair. “And if it means that there was absolutely no way for anybody else to get into the room besides the defendant, there was no way for anybody to get inside of the room besides the defendant…Guilty!”

Another fireball was launched into the scale, tilting it over two-thirds towards the prosecution.

“Or maybe now it’s sixty-six per-cent,” said Susato. “Either way, we’ve not lost yet. We still get to launch our cross-examination!”

“You’re right,” said Ryunosuke, stroking his chin with his hand. “There’s definitely some way we might be able to contradict that annoying detective’s testimony. And who knows…maybe your father will prove to be of some help as well…”

Dr. Yujin Mikotoba winked at Ryunosuke quietly.

Cross Examination

“So you say, Detective Jones, that you believe the defendant to have anger issues,” said Ryunosuke. “Why do you think that is?”

“Well given the tirade of oaths he swore at me and several police officers when we were arresting him, and throughout this investigation, I think that’d be rather obvious to me, wouldn’t you agree, defence?”

“I…well…I’m not very well-up on my English swear words, detective…”

“Well if I weren’t in court right now, I’d teach you one. A two-word phrase, the second one’s ‘off’.”

“Detective Jones, there’s no need for any kind of foul language in this courtroom – be it properly verbalised or implied!” called the judge.

Detective Jones seemed flustered for a moment, his cigar almost dropping from his mouth and into his pocket, but he just about managed to catch it with his hand. “Oh! Er…understood milord…forgive me, I’d forgotten myself for a moment there…”

But it was then that something seemed to “click” in Ryunosuke’s mind as he slammed the bench with his hands.

“Detective Jones, it appears that you’ve not only forgotten yourself in your behaviour in the courtroom…”

“What the devil are you on about, defence? I’m doing almost everything I should be doing!” The business end of Jones’s cigar smouldered furiously.

“Objection!”

“You appear to have forgotten something that occurred during the course of the investigation yesterday—was it not revealed yesterday that someone else might well have had access to the room? A third party, that is?”

Some ash crumbled into Jones’s breast pocket as he suddenly remembered: “Uh oh.”

“‘Uh oh’ indeed, detective,” said Ryunosuke with his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. “Surely you remember yesterday, it was discovered that there were at least two keys to the room, and not just one?”

“This is not a matter that the prosecution is aware of, milord…Detective Jones, would you mind filling us in?” said Abidon with a raised eyebrow.

“Yesterday, the police apprehended someone attempting to enter the crime scene unlawfully, but as it turns out, it was a member of the Detection Club itself, who we’re now holding in custody. An ‘Arthur Conan Doyle’, sir. He claims to have had access to the room at some point in the hours before the discovery of the victim’s body, wanting to use some special ink that belonged to the defendant. It was when he spilled some of the ink that he left, later to return to the scene of the crime yesterday in an attempt to clean it up.”

“I see…” said Abidon, adjusting his glasses. “And why was I not informed of this fact until now?”

“Well we’ve been very busy down at the Yard of late, sir, dealing with a large number of appeals related to the Professor incident of a few months ago. So much so we’re practically drowning in paperwork.”

“Still—whether the prosecution was or wasn’t originally aware of this fact doesn’t change anything!” cried Ryunosuke. “The defence asserts that the very existence of this ‘second key’ could be proof that a third party—perhaps even Mr. Doyle himself—could have been responsible for the murder, and not the defendant!”

The judge moved to speak: “That’s an excellent po—”

“HOLD IT!”

interjected Detective Jones. “Milord, as a precaution, I’ve already personally seen that this matter is investigated, as a matter of personal pride.”

“Once again, detective, I’m unable to show a full appreciation of this fact seeing as I was, once again, not informed of this matter. However,” added Abidon, “given that your annual salary review meeting is due to take place next week, I’m sure you’ll appreciate my recommendation for the outcome.”

More ash from the working end of the detective’s cigar crumbled into his breast pocket.

“(Oh dear…it looks like Detective Jones isn’t exactly expecting a positive outcome from that meeting…)” thought Ryunosuke.

“Er anyway—we were able to confirm Mr. Doyle’s alibi with a Mr. Inkwell, who runs a stationary shop on Oxford Street that is frequented by Mr. Doyle and other members of the Detection Club, who said that the witness visited him around the estimated time of death to procure a bottle of ink remover.

“However the witness had to return straight home immediately after purchasing the ink, according to his secretary, Mrs. Turner, as he had a number of patients to attend to at his own practice over on Upper Wimpole Street.”

“I see. Excellent work, detective. However, it unfortunately doesn’t make up for your uncharacteristic breach of proper procedure and due process.”

“In that case, the prosecution’s case still stands rather firmly,” said the judge, adjusting his own white powdered wig.

“And in that case, the defence would like to resume its cross-examination,” said Ryunosuke.

Prosecutor Abidon sneered. “Well I can’t see anything productive that will come of it, but the prosecution otherwise has no objections – if the defence will concede to the truth of the matter that is if nothing new can be proven.”

“Detective, please resume your testimony then, please,” ordered the judge.

“Well there’s nothing more for me to say, really. Just that the cause of death was rather obvious, in that we allege that the defendant did savagely hit the victim over the head repeatedly with the skull, quite a bit after a point where anyone could say the man was deceased.”

“Anybody at all, you say?”

“Yes. Anybody; be they a police detective, a defence attorney, a medical doctor or Joe Bloggs off the street; would be able to see that repeated blunt-force trauma to the skull was the clear-cut cause of death.”

Dr. Yujin Mikotoba quietly hummed to himself, carefully stroking his moustache.

“’Scuse me!”

“Professor Mikotoba, do you have anything to say on the matter?” asked Ryunosuke.

“Mm? Oh…please, young Ryunosuke, we’re not in university at the moment. ‘Dr. Mikotoba’ will do just fine,” he said with a warm smile.

“(In what way is that any less formal?) OK then, Dr. Mikotoba, do you have anything to say on the matter? You looked as though you were rather deep in thought there when Detective Jones mentioned that, quote; ‘repeated blunt-force trauma to the skull was the clear-cut cause of death’.”

“Well that’s because it is!” said Jones with a start. “…Isn’t it?”

“That’s the issue. You see, I have previous experience with dealing with poisons and in working in pathology – I was a student of Dr. John H. Wilson, actually – but anyway, part of what my time spent studying has been poisons and a new method of post-mortem examination.

“Mainly – I’ll try and cut the jargon as much as I can, I promise – ways of studying injuries acquired post-mortem.”

“Injuries acquired post-mortem?”

“Yes. The human body can still trigger certain reactions after death as decomposition begins. And the body can be injured after death too—which can affect a corpse or cadaver differently compared to those who are still living.

“I’ve been spending quite a lot of time over the last day examining the body and the so-called murder weapon, the one that is in the police and prosecution’s official custody at this time, may not necessarily be the one that caused the death of Mr. Thomas.”

A fit of murmuring erupted around the gallery.

“B-But!” protested Jones, standing over the man next to him, “you’ve mentioned before that the victim was beaten with that skull. I mean even a blind man could see that at fifty yards away!”

“Yes, the victim was beaten with the skull, rather savagely I might add. But! Having examined the injuries, I have reason to believe that these injuries may have been applied after death and not at any point before it.”

“In other words, there may have been a different cause of death, Dr. Mikotoba?”

“Precisely, young Ryunosuke. I’ve not yet had the chance to officially confirm the cause of death.”

“And if you were to speculate, doctor?” asked Abidon.

“To speculate?”

“Yes. Clearly you believe you may well be onto something, so would you please inform this court of what cause or causes of death you’re investigating?”

“Well,” responded Dr. Mikotoba, adjusting his hat, “I believe that the cause of death may well be related to my other ‘speciality’. Poison, that is.

“I conducted an examination of the victim’s fingernails and there were clear signs of changes in pigmentation—that is, the colour—of the fingernail, and the particular smell of garlic around the lips, yet there was no signs of the victim having consumed garlic prior to death, according to the contents of his stomach.

“As such, I have reason to believe that Mr. Harris’s cause of death was not blunt force trauma as the initial post-mortem examination might have shown it to be. Instead, I have reason to believe that the cause of death in this matter was arsenic poisoning, given the presence of the by-product, arsine.”

The gallery began murmuring again.

“Arsine? Isn’t that the name of that London-based football club?”

“No, that’s Arsenal you wally! Arsine is the name of that French thief!”

“No, that’s Larsene Aupin!”

The judge hit his gavel several times. “Order! Order! There is no need for any kind of running commentary from the gallery!”

“Surely if a different cause of death has been prescribed by the medical examiner in this case,” argued Susato, “this means that it is now rather unlikely for Redford to have used been the actual culprit!”

“Yeah! I haven’t been to the chemist of late, and even then I wouldn’t go anywhere near arsenic unless I had to…dreadful stuff…”

Prosecutor Abidon chuckled.

“If that is to be the defence’s argument, then the prosecution would like to present what could be considered a key piece of evidence that is yet to have been considered by this court, and a piece that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, will prove the defendant’s guilt beyond any kind of reasonable doubt!”

The remaining jurors who had yet to cast their vote all seemed to sit further forwards in their seats.

“Recovered, yesterday from the scene of the crime,” said the prosecutor, taking out a brown envelope from underneath the prosecution’s bench, “was a particular belonging of the defendant – namely one that had been put away into the storage room in the headquarters of the Detection Club.”

“H-Hey!” cried Redford, standing up in the dock. “What are you doing! Get your hands off of that! That’s private!”

He was immediately restrained held back into his seat by two bailiffs.

“The prosecution would like to admit this manuscript into the court record—‘Fizzing Arsenic’ by Redford Ninate – written by the defendant in his own handwriting. A piece of writing that proves beyond any shadow of a doubt that the defendant did know how to conduct cyanide poisoning and obscure the cause of death. In this case, through beating the victim’s corpse in such a way that it is rendered unidentifiable by the character in the novel!”

“Gah! Redford, why didn’t you tell us you’d written such a thing?!” exclaimed Ryunosuke.

“Because I didn’t think it mattered!” he replied. “And anyway, it’s a work of fiction. Just because I write murder mysteries doesn’t make me a murderer mysteriously, now does it?!”

“That is true…Milord! This defence contests this evidence as being completely circumsta—!”

“Hold it!”

“Milord, I believe that we may have come to the conclusion of this matter,” said the fourth juror, tenting his fingers as he smoked his pipe. “For we have eliminated the impossible and what remains is what is the most probable of truths. The defendant…is a poisoner!”

He hit his hand off of the bench and a fireball went soaring through the air and into the “guilty” side of the scale.

“There’s just one juror left who hasn’t found Redford guilty,” said Susato, who was now beginning to sound rather anxious herself. “That gentleman sat in the middle…”

“Is it just me or does he look rather familiar…?”

“Now that you mention it, he does, but I just can’t…wait…isn’t that…?”

The two said at once: “Soseki-san?!”

As if on cue, the third juror, Soseki, shouted:

“持て！”

The cats that were clambering all over him and his kimono seemed to be otherwise unaffected by such a shout.

“Milord! I’ve been listening to this case for quite some time now—as much as I’ve not wanted to be here—and I believe that I’ve arrived at my own conclusion…”

Soseki began to strike various poses.

“The defendant! Is! Guilty!”

With a karate-style chop of his hand on the bench, a fireball flew through the air and landed in the guilty side of the scale, finally tilting it all the way to the right and releasing a belch of flame into the air.

(G-Guilty?! There’s no way I’m about to let it end like this…I have to get a Not Guilty verdict, no matter the cost!)

Ryunosuke hit the defence bench with both hands. “Milord! The defence requests its immediate right to a summation examination of the jury’s findings on the case!”

The judge rolled his eyes, wondering why he himself ever believed that the case might have been an open-and-shut one and he might’ve gotten to go home early that day.

“I’ll allow it. The defence may begin its summation examination. Is the jury prepared?”

The first juror replied, revving a large metal riveting machine into the air. “We’re ready and revving to go, milord!”

“Excellent. The floor is yours, defence.”

#the adventure of the detection club #OTP: Red Dragon #fanfiction #self insert fic #tgaa 2 spoilers #story #murder mystery

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