#if you live outside of it. You are not taxed. and therefore the library is not free. Parks services are not free.

[songbirdstew]

Love seeing those lists of everything available at the library, like Kanopy and Hoopla and tools and seed packets and sports equipment and musical instruments and I dunno fuckin cryogenics or whatever,

and thinking, Must be nice to live in a place where libraries have An Actual Budget because libraries are Valued By Their Citizens who are willing to pay Their Fair Share of taxes to support public services

Our library (and all of our city government offices) is in a repurposed shopping mall that was built in the 1970s (*actually I think it was built before this. I think it became City Hall in the '70s.). It's literally falling apart. Internal walls have collapsed inside. It's nowhere near earthquake safe. There's no room to expand to meet the drastically increased population. A few years ago, the library board presented a plan to build a brand new building, with a lot picked out and everything,a whole prospectus with cool building features. But they needed tax-payer approval. So it failed. Because the people in my town hate doing anything that might benefit others.

Must be nice. Must be reeeeeaaaaaaal niiiiiiiiice.

[draven-imani]

Journal 5 (part 1)

We’ve had an…extremely productive day. We found a note on Hosilla’s person that detailed three safehouses of the cult of Baphomet: Nyserian Manor, Topaz Solutions, and the Tower of Estrod. The note was signed SV—which I’m assuming is Stauton Vhagn. Looks like he came back and finished the job of destroying the Wardstone after Commander Tirabade stopped him the first time.

After talking to Aravashnial, Anevia, and Horgus, we pooled our information together. Nyserian Manor was owned by a noble who sometimes worked with Horgus, and had taken out a loan from him once to buy Commander Tirabade’s sword from her. Anevia hadn’t been aware Irabeth had sold her sword—apparently she’d told her wife she’d lost it. Anevia was going to be having words with the commander of the Eagle Watch upon seeing her again.

The Tower of Estrod was of interest to Aravashnial, as it was a place of arcane studies. He also requested that we look into the Blackwing Library, where the Riftwardens would be located.

Anevia wanted to look for Irabeth, and therefore would like to look into going home as that was the only lead she had on where her wife may be.

As we discussed, we exited the subterranean tunnels and entered the sewers. And came upon three orphan kids and a middle aged pinkish tiefling woman with many piercings and a bow. The orphans immediately ran to Luna, clearly familiar with her. Another point in her favor for ‘good person, not a murderer/serial killer/whatever else the rumor mill decides to say’.

“So you must be ‘Una’,” the tiefling said, imitating the orphans mispronunciation of her name. Or maybe legitimately mistaking her name for that. “Nice to meet you, incase you haven’t noticed, everything’s gone to hell.”

The tiefling introduced herself as Hiskaria. She had arrived in town from Numeria recently to join the Raven Corps, actually, although she was apparently a Kenabres native initially. She was on lone by one ‘Kevoth-Kul’, because she was a criminal on parole, and joining the Raven Corps was her penance.

Ouch.

Aaaaaand as the only member of the Raven Corps around that means it fell on me to keep her around until we could either find her handler or someone with more authority. That and strength in numbers. We couldn’t exactly leave her behind, even if she is a confessed murderer.

Oh, yeah, I didn’t mention that her crime was murder did I? Yeah, our new buddy’s a convicted murderer. One fake murderer and one real one, and if I had to put money on it, everyone’s going to get who’s who wrong.

After some discussion, we decided to head for Horgus’ manor first. It would provide a safe place to leave the orphans, so that we wouldn’t be dragging them around in the open where every demon still lurking around might decide to swoop down on them.

We made it there with only minor incident, some rat demon ripping up a clothing store who dubbed himself ‘the rat king’. He was of personal offense to Melody given that he was in the process of destroying things of beauty. That and the owners of the shop were still there and might be able to salvage some things.

Given my studies I was able to identify the demon as an Abrikandilu, a wrecker demon. A destroyer of beauty, not just of artwork like the dresses, but of physical beauty, using their fangs to cause horrible scarring on those they attack. I also knew that Radiance was the only weapon we had that would pierce its defenses, although it also had a unique weakness to mirrors, due to all demons of this kind having an abhorrence of their own visage. That being the case, I suggested that Luna and Melody slip into the store to get one of the mirrors from the changing rooms within while I distracted and fought it with Radiance and Hiskaria took pot shots at it from a safe distance.

Radiance and I were both more than happy to finally be putting a demon to the blade.

Spilling demons’ blood, at least, we both agree on.

Things went off about how we’d hoped. The Abrikandilu was a bit faster than I’d anticipated and it rushed me rather than me pinning it by the building as I’d planned, but I stopped its fangs with my shield and avoided any new scars. Melody and Luna came out with a mirror, which drew the demon’s attention. Luna’s axe stuck into it. Then Radiance slew it.

Radiance roared in my head each time it drew blood against a demonic foe, in what I can only describe as ecstasy. They, at least, get joy from battle. I wish I could say the same, but the demons die all the same. I feel good about it, that we slayed the demon and helped those people. It’s something good. Not joy, that’s too strong of a word. I feel—satisfied, maybe?

Regardless, the shop owners thanked us. They had little to offer and we tried to assure them that we didn’t need anything, but they insisted on at least providing us with a nice outfit each in thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever owned anything so fine. An orphan and a soldier don’t exactly make for elegant living.

Afterwards we made it to Horgus’ manor with no further incidents. His holdings were untouched. Melody mused at first that perhaps someone was trying to frame him. However after some thought, Hiskaria and I disagreed with that assessment. Demons by nature would seek out where the most people are, the places where they could wreak the most havoc. And as we approached it was clear that his manor was devoid of life. It would seem that his men and his servants had fled their posts when the attack happened, and as a lucky result the manor had been untouched. I’ll give Horgus some credit here. While he was clearly visibly upset that the men he’d hired to protect his holdings had left their posts, he tried very hard to be reasonable that it was for the best that they’d left and protected the servants, and that it had indirectly kept the demons from destroying his things. He was however very upset that they’d taken all of the mints from the little bowl at the front entrance—as was Miss Melody, who bemoaned that it was quite rude of them. Ah what I would give to have her priorities.

Luna was shepherding the orphans—one of whom, Hamm, had taken a shine to Hiskaria’s magic and gotten it into his head that he was going to…what was it? Summon demons in his snot bubbles? Charming kid. Glad his entire world falling apart around him didn’t completely destroy his sense of innocence and wonder. Suppose he was lucky he ran into Hiskaria so the three of them didn’t get killed or worse. That’s a point in her favor.

After gathering up food from the kitchen and some entertainment for the kids from a room formerly used for the staff’s children while they were on the job, Horgus went down to the safest part of the manor: the vault. He opened the safe, which proved to have been completed untouched. Inside was more wealth than I’d probably ever seen in one place before, or ever will again. He paid Luna that looked like a rather hefty sum. Then he also paid myself, Melody, and Hiskaria 1000 gold for returning him here safely, although payment had never been promised. Hiskaria tried to argue that she’d only just joined with us, but he said that it was payment due to someone who couldn’t be here to take their cut.

Horgus…is a complicated man, I am beginning to realize. I cannot pin him down yet. Even more than most people, his words and actions do not align. And even some of his actions I think are more masks on top of that. Luna insists he’s a good man but won’t give details beyond that. She’s had a few private conversations with him, so I’m inclined to believe she knows something that’s given her that impression. And I trust Luna’s judgement in people.

As Horgus locked himself away, we heard the beginnings of him teaching the kids something or another about some…math thing. I don’t know, look, I’m not the one to look to about Abadar tax bracket stuff. Luna was just glad he was hopefully keeping Hamm from thinking about snot demons.

From there we went next door, to Nyserian Manor. Or what was left of it. Which was not much. At all. Or anything, really. See, the demons hadn’t been very discerning in their building demolition. They’d destroyed their own safehouse. Idiots. Served anyone who was inside right for betraying humanity to the demons.

Next up was Blackwing Library.

Oh Blackwing Library. This one made me angry.

If you know me you know that’s bad. Of course, you don’t know me, because you’re just a bundle of inanimate papers sandwiched in leather that I’m writing in to keep my tenuous grip on sanity together. Suffice to say: that’s bad. I don’t get angry easily. Unless you’re a Deskari worshipper or waving his symbol in my face like I’m a bull, but I mean, that’s just asking for trouble from any Iomedaen, really.

As we approached the library, it was immediately apparent that the entire thing had been decimated. Aravashnial was despondent. All of his friends and colleagues with the Riftwardens would have been there, and he feared the worst. While Melody and surprisingly Hiskaria tried to comfort him, Luna tried to sneak closer to look into the library. I stuck close to her, although not so close as to blow her cover.

What she saw was a turncoat Iomedaen with five librarians bound and gagged, and a sixth librarian being forced to pile books around them, to serve as both a book burning and a funeral pyre.

We didn’t have long to think as he pulled out the flint and tinder. Luna downed a potion of invisibility and vanished. We had to put our faith in her. And as usual, she didn’t let us down, as a moment later blood splattered across the floor and she reappeared behind the armored man with her hood up and a declaration that she was “the Butcher of Balestreet, Bitch”.

The cavalier’s two tiefling thugs tried to flank Luna, but I helped fight off one and Hiskaria finished them with a potshot from outside the door that got him right between the eyes, while Melody swooped in to take a stab at the other.

Luna clearly outmatched the man she was facing, and he was smart enough to realize it. He dropped his weapons, and offered to surrender. He swore if we let him go, he’d never do such a thing again.

The others seemed ready to let their guards down.

I didn’t buy it.

I could feel it. This was an evil man. The kind who would just turn around and do something like this again the second he had an opportunity, if we let him live.

Luna lowered her weapon to go deal with the tiefling thug. I told her what I just wrote, that if we let him go he would just harm others. She said it wasn’t going to be her choice to make.

If anyone was making this choice, it was going to be me, and me alone.

Melody tried to reason that maybe we could get some information out of him. That we could take him alive, and question him. After all, that’s what she was best at.

And then what, I asked her. What do we do with him after that? There weren’t any jails. The city was in chaos. Where do we put him when we’re done questioning him so that he doesn’t hurt anyone else?

He swore again that he’d just go away and be good. I called bullshit.

Melody said maybe he’d know more about the safehouses, or the other plans. What we’d potentially be walking into.

Fine. For the safety of the rest of the group, I’d take him alive.

So I punched the cocky bastard in the face and left him to Melody.

Hiskaria and Luna went about helping the librarians while Melody did her thing. She manacled the man and tied him up for a nice friendly chat. I stuck around. I didn’t trust this man. Kaleb, I learned his name was. Much good it did.

Melody woke him up. First thing he did was tried to play ignorant. Tried to pretend like he’d been possessed, like he hadn’t been in control of his own faculties before.

Bullshit. More lies.

Melody saw through his lies this time just as much as I had. She told him to start over and try again.

Next he tried to weave a sob story about how he’d been coerced into doing what he’d done. How he was a crusader who’s unit had been taken captive, and he’d been forced into committing evil acts out of desperation.

Again, nothing but lies. All he knew how to do was lie, habitually, spew whatever falsehood he thought would get him in our good graces.

When Melody and I called him out on it again, he snapped. In a final act of rebellious desperation, he finally told the truth. He’s nothing but scum of the earth. He was a crusader, and his unit had been wiped out, that was the one honest thing that had left this mouth. Afterwards he’d decided to hedge his bets and side with the demons, so he started committing every atrocity he could to try to win their favor. And he swore that when he died and went to the pits of the Abyss to be reborn he’d come back.

And flay us alive.

Bad choice of words.

I think the bull metaphor before was apt, because I certainly saw red for a moment. I don’t think anyone was in disagreement when I stabbed Radiance through his blackened heart at this point though.

We didn’t learn anything though. Except that he wasn’t a cultist. Just a psychopath who found an excuse to start killing people.

As we discussed our next course of action, the librarian we’d rescued approached us. He knew that Aravashnial was with the Riftwardens, and he knew what had happened to them. The Riftwardens after locking what they could in their vault had teleported to a different location, meaning Aravashnial’s friends were safely somewhere else. Unfortunately, a day later someone else arrived. Xanthir Vang. Another of Deskari’s generals. A worm that walks, a terrible creature that is both a swarm and one being bound to Deskari’s will. Xanthir cut through the floor, right above where the vault would be in the secret Riftwarden floors below, and lifted the entire vault from the floor. Then he ripped it apart like it was nothing. He seemed disappointed that the Riftwardens weren’t there—predictably, I suppose, since he had a personal grudge against them.

We found a single dead and dried up worm husk in a corner of the room. I don’t like this. It’s probably my imagination that my arm itches. Probably. Another of Deskari’s generals so close. That’s…terrifying.

With this information tucked away, we decided to head for Anevia’s home to look for clues of where Commander Tirabade may be. Mostly to make sure her wife was safe, and to inform her of everything we’d found out thus far, and a little tiny bit to ask her about that sword she’d apparently sold behind her back.

On the way, we were accosted by a skeletal demon from atop a building, who also called himself the rat king. He claimed the one we’d defeated before was a usurper, and then summoned a swarm of dire rats to attack us. We dealt with the dire rats handily enough. They took a few chomps at me, annoying little things. Between rats and lizards, do I just taste good or something?

Nope, just licked my hand to test it, I’m quite certain I do not taste good.

We arrived to a small unassuming house. Irabeth’s funds clearly went to things other than worldly possessions. Not that it was a bad house. I’m not trying to be judgmental of Irabeth Tirabade I’m just saying with her position most people would have much larger quarters, so she clearly puts hers to good use elsewhere. I’m not one to judge small living quarters, I live in the barracks. Which probably are in ruins now. Ah, well. Not like I had anything of sentimental value in there anyways. My fiddle, my sword, and my shield were on my person, those were the only things I might have cried over losing. And then my sword got forcefully replaced by a talkative holy blade anyways.

I wish I could say Radiance is growing on me like Horgus. Unfortunately, we got off an extremely wrong foot and they haven’t exactly tried to mend any bridges. Luna says I should be more assertive with them, since I’m the only one who can wield them, they need me to do their holy mission they want. And Radiance even agreed with her, because of course they did.

Figures. A guy tries to be nice to the holy sword who he’ll have to be working with for the foreseeable future and apparently even trying to just not make waves with the being you’ll have to work with talking in your head is the wrong move.

Fine…assertive. What do they want me to do, put Radiance in time out in their little box when they get uppity? That is a funny image though.

I’ve completely lost my train of thought.

Right, reread a few paragraphs, Anevia’s house. So, Luna and Melody took a peek inside to make sure nothing was lurking around inside.

Predictably, something was lurking around inside.

He was invisible, but when Melody began using detect evil he ‘pinged’, so she had an idea of where the invisible presence was. The invisible presence summoned a fire beetle outside to attack Anevia, but Hiskaria turned and shot it dead before it got a chance.

Melody and Luna had a good idea where the invisible foe was, and began to force him back into a corner, although their swings of axe and glaive kept hitting nothing but air.

I came in, and I swear to you Iomedae guided Radiance’s blade. Not only did I strike true, from the amount of red that splattered across the ground, I’m certain I hit something vital. That, and I made him very angry. The next thing I saw was an enraged orc, whose invisibility faded away as a blast of fire was released from his hand point blank in my face. Too familiar. Far too familiar. And then darkness.

And then I was awake again, Melody tipping one of my potions into my mouth. Luna had bloodied the orc, but he’d refused to go down in his blind frenzy. Then Hiskaria had stepped in and finished the job.

I proceeded to heal myself a little more thoroughly while the ladies talked to Anevia about what just happened.

Huh, now that Aravashnial and Horgus are gone I am the only guy in the little group of ours, aren’t I?

The prettiest guy in our group by default as well, not that that’s saying much.

Anevia recognized the orc, he was someone who Irabeth had stopped from some previous scheme years back, who she’d left out in the world alive. Apparently, he came back for revenge. He won’t be getting a third chance.

With that settled and no more assassins lurking about, Anevia went to her and Irabeth’s bedroom and opened a secret compartment. Inside she read a note and took out some supplies. She told us that Commander Tirabade and the other remaining Crusaders were hiding out at the Defender’s Heart tavern, and the passcode to get in was “Silverstrong”.

We decided to go straight there, as it was closer than any of the safehouses, and allies were still more useful than victories at the moment.

I was especially feeling that way when that damn skeleton ‘rat king’ showed up again, and threw a flock of vultures at us. Most of which decided to descend upon me. I know vultures are a bad omen but come on, that’s too on the nose even for me. What’s worse? Do you know what’s worse? What’s even worse than vultures? Fiend vultures. These things could smite. I had, no joke, five buzzards smiting me like a bunch of feathery antipaladins.

Just my cursed luck again. Why does Desna hate me?

So, yeah. I was hurting. And really wanting some rest. While everyone else was ready and raring to go for two more safehouses after we finished meeting with the Commander. I finished healing myself again and I was almost tapped out of spells, and completely out of potions. My fervor was wearing thin as well. Luna was all well and good, she didn’t use spells. Hiskaria was fine, she mostly only used her cantrips to empower her bow to fire twice—a neat trick that didn’t really cost her anything. Melody had used one judgement and some spells but she was just fine and equally ready to go.

Ever the weak link.

Eh, no point thinking like that, right? Plenty more happened after that. We arrived to Defender’s Heart and gave them the passcode. They came out to meet us, initially excited to see Anevia.

Then they saw Luna, still with her hood up in her Butcher guise from our fight earlier.

Oops.

We tried to explain that this wasn’t what it looked like. That she wasn’t actually a murderer. That the rumors and stories and reports were wrong. Anevia tried to back us up. Luna took off her hood, and pointed out that she drank one of the two of them under the table at this very tavern just a few days prior, and no one got hurt. Despite our best efforts, tensions were raising. The guards were going for their weapons, and we were surrounded. The paladins were throwing accusations, and no one was listening to our words, they were only hearing what they believed to be true.

Then a strong hand came down on both of the guards’ shoulders. A voice spoke, and told them that maybe sometime they should try actually using the gift Iomedae grants them to detect evil.

Irabeth Tirabade stood behind the two guards, in the flesh, as…everything as I ever would have imagined. Tall, proud, honorable, noble.

The guards scrambled to cast the detect spells, and predictably found that Luna was not evil. They were puzzled but relaxed somewhat. Then jumped and went for their weapons again when they looked in Hiskaria’s direction.

The Commander told them that it was alright, and held up some papers, saying all the paperwork was in order for Hiskaria.

It looked like she was officially Raven Corps now.

Commander Tirabade picked up Anevia and carried her inside, and asked the four of us to follow. She got to quarters where she could lay Anevia down, then turned to me.

And the conversation went something like this.

“Acting Captain of the Raven Corps,” she said.

I was flabbergasted for a moment then realized she had to be talking to me because there was literally no one else she could be talking to. “Me?”

[epiclevelup]

2021 Reflection + 2022 Goals

While I started this blog in 2021 (or was it 2020?) I haven't been active on it, nor have I made much progress in my level up journey.

Still, in this post I'd like to reflect on the steps I did make, and what I'm planning for this new year.

Starting with the outside:

Hair

More expensive products ARE worth it and yes, that includes shampoos

Conditioner is key, lots and lots of it

Also, leaving in a nice 100% natural oil for a few hours (or overnight) before washing will really help with shine and softness

Protective hairstyles for sleeping help, but are not quite enough for me. I'll be trying silk bonnets and pillowcases this year to see if that helps more.

Skin

Consistency is the most important element in your skincare regime

The Ordinary Niacinamide + Zinc serum might be the second most important

A nice, gentle cleanser is also essential. CeraVe hydrating one is my personal favorite at the moment.

Top this all off with a nice moisturizer and an occasional BHA or AHA mask, and you are all set up for great skin.

Body

Naturally, I have a pretty good shape. I learned to appreciate it more.

Body hair removal is still driving me crazy. I learned to accept not being perfectly hairless a bit more as well.

Neutral colours are great. Light, muted colours look best on me.

Style

Clothes should always fit your body NOW. Also, buy it only if you think it makes you look great, not if the garment itself looks great.

Finding your personal style is hard. Pinterest can help. Money is always an obstacle tho.

I really need something to iron my clothes.

Study

I cannot study in my room, and it's difficult to study around people I know. Hence the library would be best.

I can study well and long, and I do enjoy studying while I'm at it. Getting myself to start is the hardest part.

It always takes more time than I think. Always.

I still have no idea what I want to study, and what I find interesting.

Work

Sales roles are not for me. Nor roles where I have to communicate a lot.

Finding internships is really hard. More self-initiative could help.

Other

Just because you want something, it doesn't mean it's necessarily good for you to get it. Learning to let go and set boundaries would help.

I don't know myself as well as I always assumed. A lot more introspection is needed.

My insecurity in regards to the way I look, made me really bitter and jealous this year, especially towards pretty women. I am all for supporting and raising other women up, so this is something that I really need to work on .

Better time management. I need this.

Also, learning to budget. Starting to invest. Learning about taxes, money, finance and economics is a must.

Relationships are really hard. Being vulnerable is very exposing. Confort kills.

Now, that said, I want to work on my 2022 goals. Normally, I focus on setting a few, more general goals. I find that this makes it hard to track progress and determine if I succeeded or not. Therefore this year I want to set a lot of smaller goals, bucket list style.

My 2022 Goals:

Visit Budapest

Visit Vienna

Get into a nice Master programme

Re-learn to wake up early. 7 the latest

Work out at least 4 times a week

Take the economics course on MasterClass

Finish Behave (the book) and the YT lectures

Make a portrait

Read a book in French

Read a poetry book

Read Richard II

Have an internship

Save at least 300 euros (25 euros a month) and set up a savings account

Take an investment course

Learn about taxes in Europe (in the countries I'm considering to live in)

Finish the Google online course

Refresh and advance my Python course

Become good with R studio

Write 5 poetries

Eat healthier and plan my meals

Figure out a way to have my hair always look on point

Go to a theater play

Read 12+ books (at least one every month)

Start and finish a project

Get a magazine/newspaper membership

Improve my public speaking

Improve my posture

Learn more about etiquette

Learn to cook a fancy meal (4-course: starters, first course, second course, dessert)

Get one elegant, durable and high quality bag.

Keep my shoes clean and nice looking.

Fix my coats.

Learn more about contemporary art and artists, and interior design.

[reikiajakoiranruohoja]

Mini-Essay: Hopeless world

There is a chilling aspect to a lot of modern fandom behaviour, even aside from the harassment and shunning.

The purity police/anti/etc. don't bother with meatspace. To the point, I feel they have given up on it entirely. You never hear the anti harassing libraries or bookshops or other stores. There are no anti efforts to cease the sale of FNAF products in GameStops.

What the focus is always on, is a limited fringe part of media. Fanfiction and fanart. Something that legally cannot ever affect the canon product in any way. Nevermind the sites the focus is on; AO3, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram and Tiktok. Places that might now be popular, but are far from the only games in town.

I am in no way saying harassing show creators/writers/etc. is better, but this recent fandom-only focus is worrying.

One theory I have for this focus is that fanfic creators are more likely to interact with their audience than published creators. Or are actually alive. Therefore, they can more easily groom minors. That kind of thinking does not account for just how many actually read fanfiction without ever interacting with the authors.

This giving up also shows how actions are taken. You don't see anti discussing the charity work they do or bringing up donation drives that aren't for a single person. When the AO3s voluntary donation drive comes, they yell that THEY should get the donated money. None of the anti posts I've seen ever highlight charities or bring up something off about a local library.

The actions they -do- take are shaming and shunning, isolating, and scapegoating. Of fan creators or small independent studios. Ones that have very little power in the grand scheme of things. Often the matters are very light, too. What someone writes or draws. Not any action outside fiction.

The most damning proof of how distant the anti are from the meatspace, are their infamous DNIs. It is not at all uncommon to see "20+ don't interact" in them. This is combined with their misogynistic insults to older women in fandom, telling them to 'do their taxes' or 'raise their children.'

However, as the Smashmouth song aptly put, the years start coming and they don't stop coming. People age, children become adults, your young adult years won't last forever. The anti are setting themselves up for isolation from their community. Or they truly think they will never live past 18.

Yet, for all their DNI and ageism, you never see them arguing over adult published authors not online. You don't see or hear them calling out Anne Rice's Snow White series, nor call bookstores about Harry Potter. Those things don't matter.

Equally, as much as they speak of social rights and protecting children, any non-online advocacy group or community also doesn't matter. They aren't taking real-life actions to ensure children are safe or joining local LTGBAQ+ communities.

Everything they do is solely online, the meatspace given up entirely.

[t-o-m-hollands]

A/N: Cointens violence and mentions of injuries, war and blood. Also swearing and drinking. Smut in future parts, nothing in this. 

“It seemed like a nice neighbourhood to have bad habits in.”  

― Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep  

When Tom’s grandfather passes away, he inherits an office in the middle of a buzzling London. He has no idea what to do with it.

The year is 1947 and Tom is restless after the war. After a chance meeting with his old comrade Harrison and a drunken lunch at the local pub they decide to open up a detective agency. After finding you huddled up in a library while chasing an unwilling witness Tom decides to hire you as the agency’s secretary. You, reluctantly, take up the offer from the charming stranger.

Together the three of you face some of London’s most hard-boiled criminals and lethal femme fatales.  

You have to navigate your way through adulthood, life after war and your growing feelings for your boss.

***

The pub was unusually crammed with people, workers meeting up with each other for a pint before heading home to their families. He could see them through the muted windows, cheering and laughing, pints of beer clutched in their hands. Now, it certainly wasn’t the nicest pub in London, a thick cover of mud covered the floor, the walls were so dirty that it was hard to tell what the original wallpaper had looked like. But then again, it was the Bugle, a pub well hidden in the Shafto Mews in London. It was not a pub you just happened to stroll in to, looking for a place to eat or a friendly place to catch up with a long-lost comrade in. It was a seedy and dirty place, where the beers came cheap and the brawls started easy.

The barman, a Mr. Eric Brew, was a brusque and quick-tempered elderly man with a beer belly so large it made it hard for him to steer his way through the many bottles and glasses behind the bar. Luckily for him it was unusual for anyone to ordered anything other than a pint or perhaps a glass of cheap and watered-down whiskey.

Tom loved this place, because no one ever bothered him here. This was not a place to talk to strangers in.  

On this particular autumn afternoon the air outside was crisp and full of the smell of pavement after rain, it smelled of London. Currently though the sky was bluer than it had been all summer and the leaves on the trees had just started to change their colours. There was a distinct chill in the air. Tom shivered in his dress shirt, thinking to himself that this was sure to be the last time that year he’d get away with not wearing a jacket.

As he stepped inside, he exchanged the almost impossible fresh autumn air for a cigarette smoke fog. It was unusually busy for a Tuesday afternoon, and the sound of loud voices and clinking glasses filled the air. Tom gathered it must be payday. It was long ago that he stopped to bother about the days of the week or when pay was due. Not because of an abundance of money but for the lack of a steady job.

Walking up the bar he told Eric to pour the usual and handed him a coin. Eric grunted and started to pour into a glass that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months.

“Busy today, mate” Tom stated. Eric grunted again and handed him his drink.  

As Tom sat down in the far, and well hidden, corner of the pub he thought to himself that his so-called conversation with the barman had been his longest conversation in days. After the war had ended, he’d stayed out in France, despite his mother’s letters begging him to come home he hadn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t miss his family, on the contrary, being apart from them felt more torturous than anything he’d lived through during the war.

Still, he thought as he gulped down on his drink, he had been through war, and that does change a person. He wasn’t the same care-free boy who’d so gladly enlisted, desperate for some preconceived idea that the war would satisfy his deep-rooted need for adventure, to please his longing for glory. He’d happily waved his younger brothers and his parents goodbye on the platform, surrounded by sad looking boys saying farewells to their loved ones.

The war had not given him what he wanted. There had been no glory or sense of adventure.  And even though the worst injury he’d suffer was a broken nose that had more to do with his own stupidity than actual fighting he had still seen the suffering of others. Walked through villages so bombed there was nothing, no human nor animal left. Nothing but ruin and corpses left to rot. He’d seen the torn apart remains of what had once been children on the street. He had had to breath trough the smell of decaying flesh as they walked by. He had lost friends and comrades.  

The war had changed him, and he still wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse. All he knew was that he couldn’t face his father, or his mother. Not yet. He thought of his little brothers, how much five years must have changed them. He quietly wondered if he’d recognise them if he passed them on the streets today. He tried to convince himself that he would, and only after half a bottle of whiskey did he feel brave enough to admit it to himself that he probably wouldn’t. Too long had passed.  

The only reason he had come back to England at all was for a surprise visit from a solicitor, who had tracked him down somewhere outside of Cannes, informing him of the passing of his grandfather. Tom had few memories of said grandfather What he could recall was a fearsome and stern figure, Victorian in his manner. Tom could remember looking up to the damn near giant as he looked down at Tom with disapproval written all over his face as Tom stood in front of a broken vase, he’d accidentally shattered while chasing the cat. It certainly had not been a man fond of children. Tom had always kept his distance from the man whenever they had visited, scared of the scolding the older man was more than capable of.

Therefore, it had been, to say the least, a great surprise when said grandfather had left his entire inheritance to his oldest grandson.

Sure, there hadn’t been a lot of actual money, not after all the death-duties and inheritance taxes had gone through, but he’d gotten his office and the apartment above it, placed bang on one of the busiest streets of London. What his grandfather had used the office for he had no idea, and the solicitors refused to tell him anything about is grandfathers’ dealings, but judging by the state of the place it must have been an awfully long time since anyone sat their foot in the place, probably not since before the war, the first one. The entire place was, like this very pub, filled with dirt and dust and long abandoned forgotten things. Most of which was nothing more than trash, a chair that surely would break as soon as anyone sat down on it, a desk with one broken leg and a filing cabinet full of mouldy documents.

The only distinctive feature was a rather well-made painting. Not only was the portrait of the young lady striking, but the gold frame surrounding it was solid gold. Something that had chocked Tom greatly. For he had never seen anything look quite so out of place than that gold framed picture of a young, beautiful women with seemingly shining eyes –

“Surely it can’t be – Tom Holland, OI! Tom!”

Tom instinctively looked up, only to meet the eyes of a dearly beloved friend.

“Mate! As I live and breathe!”

“Where have you been, buddy?” Harrison happily exclaimed, pulling out the chair opposite of Tom and before pretty much falling down on it, a pint of beer in hand and a massive grin on his face.

“I haven’t seen you since Monte Cassino– ” he silenced himself. Maybe because of the look in Tom’s eyes, maybe because of memories of his own.

(I haven’t seen you since the war, I haven’t seen you since we were crying in the bunkers, thinking we would die. Hoping that we would. Hoping that we wouldn’t.)

“Yeah” is all Tom can manage to get out, lungs suddenly feeling too tight.

They both take large gulps from their glasses, avoiding the others eye.

“So how you’ve been, mate?” Harrison asks, sounding more mellow now, less cheerful.

“It’s been good, bud” Tom says, trying to sound happy, trying to raise the mood a little. He can see the dark clouds of the war in Harrisons eyes, can see it clear as day even in this smoke-filled, god forsaken pub. It’s still haunting him. And he doesn’t quite know what else to say, doesn’t know how to voice the fact that he himself is hardly sleeping anymore, that he spent two years in France living as a wanderer and picking up odd jobs wherever he could find them, not even trying to pick up the pieces from the past. Not knowing where to begin

(At home, the part of him that’s braver than the rest seem to always whisper. Start at home and build from there.)

“Yeah?” There’s a note of hope in Harrison’s voice and as he looks at him the clouds in his eyes seem to clear, if only a little, and Tom’s heart breaks for his old friend. He knows that desperation, saw it all over France in the soldier's eyes. A desperate longing for proof that there was something good in the world, even after everything that had been done.  

“Yes, mate! It’s been grand. I came into an inheritance and all!” And upon seeing the look of pure surprise in Harrisons now cloud-free face Tom bursts into genuine laughter, not caring to think about how long ago it had been since he had made a whole-hearted, genuine laughter.

“Alright, let’s order some food and then let’s catch up, yeah?”

And they did. The food at The Bugle was awful. Tom knew this, since coming back to London he’d drink away his consciousness in this pub and once or twice he had given in and ordered what The Bugle’s chef referred to as food. He knew this but did not care, for the company was excellent.

It turned out Harrison had come home immediately after the war. Had tried to pick up the pieces from before. He met up with his old friends (the ones that’d survived), he dated a different girl every week, unable to settle and now lived in his parent’s townhouse in Belgravia while they spent most of their time on the family estate out in Norfolk. He too was currently out of a job, however the difference was that Harrison had no need for work, the allowance his parents gave him and his own grandparents inheritance (which, although Tom never asked, but presumed) far exceeded his own.

Tom sensed that Harrison, just like himself, felt a deeply-rooted restlessness since coming home. It was in the way his left leg wouldn’t stop tapping, his regular glances around the room, in the way he just shovelled the food around his plate, not eating much.

Tom in return told him, although with far less detail than his friend had given, of staying out in France, of a surprise visit by the solicitors. He told him of the abandoned office and apartment he now was the owner of. He even told him of the portrait hanging above the broken desk.

They talked about old times, of old friends and past lovers, and every time the name of one of those comrades that didn’t make it to the end of the war was mentioned an awkward silence spread between them before the other one quickly started a new story.

(Harrison noticed that Tom never mentioned his parents, or his brothers. Not once. But he doesn’t say anything. He think they’ll get to that eventually.)

A loud crashing breaks their conversation and both Harrison and Tom are on their feet before either one of them has even registered where the sound came from.

“YOU FUCKING SWINE, I’LL GIVE YOU NOTHING!” The screeching, and surprisingly high-pitched voice, comes from Eric the barman, who’s standing arms raised above his head behind the bar. A young man, not even wearing anything to mask his face, is holding a revolver and pointing it right at Eric’s chest.

Before he’s even fully comprehended what he’s doing he’s halfway across the pub, people scattering out of his way, and out of the robbers aim. He can sense Harrison’s presence right behind him and then they’ve both tackled the young man to the ground. All Tom can think about is to get his hands on the man’s revolver, so that he can secure it. He sees how Harrison tries to get a hold of the young robbers’ arms as he’s waving them around, trying to fight them both at once. Unfortunately, he gets in a lucky swing that hits Tom right over his nose, a nose that’s already been broken once, and blood gushes out. The man looks surprised by this, partly because of the sudden stream of blood falling over him and partly because he actually just hit someone. Tom quickly uses this for his advantage and dives down for the revolver as Harrison secures the burglar’s arms behind his back.  

They manage to hold him down until the police comes. They give them a quick rundown of what happened. Eric, furious and face alarmingly red, fills in when he manages to find words, shaking from fury. One of the policemen offer to drive Tom to the hospital to have his nose looked at but he refuses. Then they ask if he’d like to press charges. Tom takes one quick look at the young man now sitting in a police car and shakes his head. The boy, for on closer inspection he’s nothing more than a boy, looks terrified, and honestly, he’s already in enough trouble with the law. During the past few years crime in London has been on the rise. Young and restless men all coming home from the war, looking for jobs where there are none and haunted from memories from the battlefields. It’s no wonder there’s desperation in the air.

So, Tom and Haz walks away, leaving the two police cars and its officers, a furious pub owner with an unexpectedly high-pitched voice, and an entire pub of people with their noses pressed up against its foggy windows.

As they walk, without discussing where they’re going, Tom suddenly bursts out in laughter. He doesn’t know why, but the restlessness that’s done nothing short but haunted him for years now has suddenly vanished. There’s a pause and then Harrison joins in and Tom knows, knows that he feels the same. That this sudden rush of adrenalin was just what he needed too.

They practically double over with laughter, leaning on the other to keep upright and when they finally stop a comfortable silence fill the quiet as they walk on.

Before long, and before having reflected on where his feet are leading him, they’re standing outside of 15 Sloane street.

“Is this it?” Harrison asks, voice filled with curiosity as he looks up at the red-bricked building.

“Yeah” is all Tom manage to get out as an answer. Because suddenly he feels almost shy, like he’s showing Harrison some long kept secret. And for a moment they just stand and admire the building. “Can I look inside?” Haz asks, curiosity colouring his every word. So, Tom unlocks the door and they step inside.

Inside the air feels heavy, not like in the pub where it had been full of smoke, but instead it feels old, and if it hadn’t been so damn cold outside Tom would have opened up the windows.

The ground is as covered in mud and dust and dirt as the pubs floor. The walls look dull too. But the space is good, a large foyer to receive visitors, a guest bathroom, an office, a kitchen and a staff bathroom too.  

“So” Harrison finally says, having taken in the place in silence. “What are you going to do with it?”

And Tom doesn’t know what to say because honestly – is that not just the question that’s frequently been on his mind since he first got here. “Dunno” ha answers lamely. “I suppose,” he starts but stops himself, feeling too embarrassed at his childish idea.

“What?” Haz encourages.

“Well” Tom begins, and then before he loses his gut he rambles out “It would be cool to be a detective though, wouldn’t it?” He doesn’t look at his old friend as he says this. He should though, because he misses out on the massive grin spreading across Harrison’s face.

“Oh totally!” He all but yells. “Like Sherlock Holmes, or Phillip Marlowe?”

“Phillip Marlowe, surely!” Tom responds, finally looking at his old comrade. He feels light as air, having finally put words on a wish that’s long been on his mind.

But now Haz looks awkwardly down, down on his well-polished, hand-made shoes and the muddy ground. “What?” Tom asks, worry threatening to blow his happy bubble.

“Look, you don’t have to, it’s just, like if you don’t want it or you find me lacking you could just sack me bu–“

“Of course, you’ll join me” Tom interrupts Harrisons awkward attempt at asking to work with him. “Really?” He asks, eyes gleaming with happiness. “You, ‘course mate, wouldn’t wanna do it without you”.

***

And so, it begins.

They start with trying to make the place habitable. After all, the office space needs to be a presentable enough environment for clients to feel comfortable to share their troubles with them and preferably the apartment above needs to be clean enough for Tom to live in without contracting a disease. It’s hard work, and Harrison loudly complains and gruntles and questions why they can’t hire someone to do it. Tom just laughs and tells him to shut his over-privileged mouth and keep mopping.

The truth is they could easily get someone in to do the cleaning for them, it’s just that Tom doesn’t want to, feels like they really ought to do this by hand, by themselves. To build the business from the ground up. And quite frankly, some real, good hard work is just what he needs. For the first time in ages he’s so physically exhausted by the time he goes to bed that he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. He still has nightmares, but he gets in a couple more hours sleep every night and that makes it worth it.

Even though Harrison loudly grumbles about the rough labour he is a hard worker. Tom teases him a lot about it. Telling him he didn’t expect to end up doing this when he was sent to that posh public school as a child. Telling him that this is what good honest works feels like. Informing him that the pain he had in his knees from scrubbing the floors is what heavy labour feels like. It’s all jokes thought, for even they grew up worlds apart on the social scale they still fought on the same battlefield and as children they fought the same imaginary dragons.

In the end aid comes in the form of Lady Lauren Osterfield herself.

Tall and lean and dressed from top to toe in fine silk and fur in soft colours and with hair, the same shade as her son, in soft waves. She sways into the office one day, unannounced, as Tom’s trying to scrub the dirt from the walls and Harrison’s sprawled out on the floor, fighting a particularly stubborn piece of dirt. A hard a look of deepest disapproval is written all over her face as she takes in the scene.

“Darling” she drags out the word and make the endearment sound like a loving, but stern warning. “You simply cannot do this on your own”

“But mommy we-” Harrison begin but she stops him with a raised hand. “I will hear none of it, sweetie. If there is one thing I know it’s potential, and this place has got spades of it. However, I will not see my darling boys like this” she huffs, then adds “also, the rate you two are going at you’ll be in your 50’s before you even had your first client.”

She walks over to where Tom stands, now leaning against the broken desk, hands in pockets and covered in dust and sweat. “Sweetheart, it is wonderful to see you again” And she strokes his cheek with a satin gloved hand and Tom can’t help but to lean into the touch.

He had spent many a school holiday at the Osterfield house. Although, house wasn’t the right word. Technically it was a manor house – Osterfield manor was in fact its name. It had been built by Lord Ashley Osterfield in the early 1600th and had stood proudly on its green fields ever since. Tom had lived in the village, in a small cottage with his mother, father, three brothers and a half-blind cook/nanny named Cully. Harrison, since it was the family tradition, had been sent away to Eton whereas Tom had gone to the village school.  But whenever summer holiday rolled around, they’d play on the grounds to the manor and in the forest surrounding it. They had played thief’s and robbers, Robin Hood and Peter Pan. Life had been blissful and full of light. He can still remember how the last month before summer break had seemed endless, how he’d counted down the days until his best friend would return, staring out of the window during class, not listening to whatever Ms Frank was going on about. They sent each other letters of course. About what was going on at home, what tricks each had played on their friends, or on their teachers, how awful school was or about the latest mystery novel they’d read.

His memories of the Osterfield family were many and fond. Lady Osterfield, with her loving but stern ways, never looking anything less than perfection, bringing them meringues and freshly made lemonade to the treehouse where they sat people-watching, spying on the garden parties going on below. Memories of Lord Osterfield, reading his newspaper outside in the warm summer sun, dressed in linen suits and with a great moustache covering his upper lip, teaching Tom tennis and playing croquet with them. And then little Charlotte Osterfield, Harrisons little sister. With her long, blonde hair neatly combed and braided, always carrying around a teddy bear, following them wherever they went. Harrison would get rather annoyed with her for that, but Tom had always said that she could join them if she wanted to.

He remembers Christmas eve at their house. A ginormous three in the hall, neatly decorated by Lady Osterfield herself. Countless of cousins and great-aunts and uncles coming over. The staff running around cleaning every corner. The chef, Mary her name had been, yelling orders and shouting herself blue in the face. The end result had been incredible though, and as snow covered the entire manor and its grounds there was a fire lit in every room, the smell of ham and turkey in the air, glitter and light and mistletoe and presents in overload. He remembers still, being sent home in the horse driven carriage on Christmas eve, belly full of delicious food and sweets, and presents from Lord and Lady Osterfield to every member of his family, including one to Cully, surrounding him as he watched the snow fall over the pretty little village outside the carriage window.

“Hello, Lady Osterfield, it’s been a while” he manages to get out. Because this is, has always been, his second mother. And it hurts even more to see her now, despite the fact that war doesn’t seem to have aged her a day. But seeing her reminds him so much of his own mommy, and his stomach seems to revolt.

“That” she says, and he thinks her eyes are wet with unshed tears “it certainly has been”. She doesn’t ask how his war had been, why he hadn’t return sooner, or sent them letters. Probably understands that he cannot give her those answers. Not yet at least. She lowers her hand and take a step back.

“So” she announces and there’s a level of authority to her voice that makes both Harrison and Tom stand up straighter. “I will send Georgina over, hopefully she can start tomorrow already, because this really is urgent”. She looks around her surrounding, the broken furniture, the floors and ceiling that refuse to give up the dirt they’ve been holding onto for years, despite Tom and Harrisons desperate scrubbing.

“Sorry? Mommy, who.... who on earth is Georgina?”  

Tom smiles, for he can almost hear the curse word Harrison so nearly lets out.

“Oh darling, it’s Georgina Brewster, she is simply marvellous and really the only one who can save this place. I shall call on her immediately, she will work wonders, just you see”.

*

Georgina Brewster, as it turns out, would have put fear of the devil into any and every one of the generals Tom had met during the war. She practically comes in as a steamroller into the office the very next day and before either Tom or Harrison know what’s going on they’ve been thrown out of their office with strict orders to “keep out of the way, for gods sake, and don’t come back until next Friday at least!”

And because neither Tom nor Harrison dare to contradict her, even though Tom’s apartment is above the office and he now has nowhere to sleep, they listen and keep out of her way, spending their time at Harrisons, or rather Harrisons parents, place in Belgravia.

There they plan out and strategize, trying to agree on what exactly their business should be and how they should conduct it.

Their first hurdle is the name of the agency.  

“So”

They’re at ‘The Bugle’ again and Tom is swirling the liquid in his glass back and forth, holding a lit cigarette in his other hand. Around them the air is filled with smoke and conversations. Tom had, rather cheekily, asked the barman if they shouldn’t get their drinks for free, seeing as they did save his ass just the other night. The barman had done his usual ritual of mumbles and grumbles before pouring them some watered down Irish whiskey.

“So?” he asks, implying that Harrison should continue his unfinished statement.

“What should we name it, mate?” Harrison is leaning back against the wall, his long legs sprawled out. He looks as exhausted as Tom feels.

“Name what?” Tom dumbly inquires, only half his mind on the conversation, the other on the gorgeous woman at the bar. She looks strangely out of place, wearing a respectably coat, dark hair neatly organised in curls and a soft smile on face as she’s conversation with the infamously grumpy barman, who – and Tom can hardly believe his eyes – is smiling back at her.

Harrison snorts and with a voice practically dripping in sarcasm he answers “Oh the golden retriever puppy we’re adopting! The fuck you think, mate? The detective agency of course!”

Tom gives his friend a kick on his sprawled-out legs.

“Holland Detective Services” he then states.

Harrison goes quiet for a second, rubbing the aching spot on his leg where Tom managed to get in a perfect hit, the bastard had always been good and noting soft spots. “Not Holland & Osterfield?” he asks, only half joking.

“Nah, too posh mate, we’ll sound like some solicitors’ firm, you know, like ‘Bundle & Alfredson & Alfredson & Bundle”, too ridiculous. Plus, no one trusts solicitors with their secrets, they’re too posh and proper. We need people to feel like they can come to us with things they can’t go to the police with.”

He looks over to the bar again, but the beatiful lady is nowhere to be seen.

*

And so, Harrison Detective Service is founded. The office (the apartment miss Brewster luckily left him handle himself) is revealed to them.

It’s perfect. There’s no other word for it. It’s looks professional but not over styled. The two large desks made from oak, the bar table with its whiskey decanter, the filing cabinets strategely placed in the little backroom, the lamps giving the office an almost golden and mysterious lightning, and on the wall hanging above his own desk, the painting of the woman that his grandfather left him. The only thing remaining from the original office.

*

It doesn’t take long until their first client arrives. He’s a perhaps not the ideal client, Tom notes. The man is in his late 50’s, wearing an ill fitted suit and smelling distinctly of B.O. He is however willing to pay.

Thus, this is how Tom ends up chasing a, to say the least, unwilling witness all down Euston Road. The man he’s chasing is fast, and Tom’s side is hurting and he feels out of form. He really should have had something other than whiskey for lunch. The man does a quick turn left, right over the road and Tom’s right at his heel.

A car horn blows and there’s a blinding light and for a moment Tom’s back on the battlefield in France, he throws up his arms, trying to shield himself for whatever is coming at him. His entire body tenses up and he waits for the inventible crash. But it doesn’t come, and there’s shouting but he can’t hear what they’re saying, the blood rushing through his head too loud for anything else to sound real. His lungs feel too tight and his breaths are shallow.  

Slowly he regains control of himself, as he tries to take the world around him in.

The shouting is coming from a very angry driver, half hanging out of his window telling Tom to get out of the way, waving his arms in fuming gestures. People on the pavement have stopped what they’re doing, some mid conversation or mid walk, all just staring at him. He jumps into action again, desperately trying to push down the part of his brain that’s still in France. He can’t see his witness, but there’s only one place he really can have gone.

He runs up the marble stairs, ignoring the glaring stares around him.

The foyer is impressive to say the least. It’s a large circular room, marble from floor to ceiling. Right in front of him, but all across the room, is a reception and an elderly woman sitting behind it.

“Excuse me sir, we close in twenty minutes,” she calls after him, but it’s all she manages to get out before he’s gone, having made his way all across the hall and into the large oak doors with a sign simply stating ‘Main Library’.

The doors slam behind him and the sound eco in the silence. At first he’s taken aback, for this is nothing like the marble mausoleum he’s left behind, and if he thought the reception area had been large then this room is massive. It’s nothing short of a labyrinth of oak bookshelves, reaching from top to ceiling and filled with large volumes of books that look as if they must be older than queen Victoria.

He can only assume that this is where his witness is hiding, somewhere in this maze he has taken cover, wrongly assuming that Tom will just give up and leave. His witness is in no such luck. Tom does however remember noting the lineament of a revolver inside the other man’s jacket, and by now he’s had more than enough time to take it out, perhaps just waiting for Tom to be close enough not to miss.

The library looks empty and surely it must be this late. On slow but quiet feet he makes his way to the left side of the room, deciding to start there. Careful not to make a sound he removes his own revolver from its holster. Slowly he starts to make his way down the aisles, every time he turns a corner he knows it’s about whoever is the quickest with their trigger that will win.

By the time he’s made it down aisle three he can feel his heart beat so hard in his chest he finds himself wondering if it’s going to leave a bruise on his skin with its violent beating. Adrenaline has been running in his veins since the near contact with the automobile outside.

And then he hears it, a sound, what might be the noise of shuffling, and he starts to move with even higher awareness of the danger of the situation. Any second now he could stare down the barrel of a gun.

Before he can be a coward about it, he jumps around the corner of the shelf, gun in hand and pointing it straight at the witness.

Except it’s not him.

It most certainly is not him.

A pair of enormous and breathtakingly beautiful - but also terrified - eyes stare at him and for a second the whole world seems to stop, or crash, and Tom can’t help but feel like he’s a planet that completely unexpectedly has gotten knocked of its axis. He goes still, not just his body but his mind too. Everything just seems to stop, and Tom can not remember anytime that has ever happened to him before. All he sees is a pair of hauntingly beautiful, and vert familiar, eyes.

“I’m sorry sir, but weapons are not allowed inside the library.” Her voice is soft and even, but Tom can hear the slight tremble behind them, he can tell she’s playing braver than she feels. He knows that trick all too well. So, he lowers his revolver, but doesn’t unload it, still ready for his hostile witness to pop up, and if he does Tom will be ready for him.

“I beg your pardon, miss” he says and looks her up and down, trying to take in the rest of the woman in front of him. He’s pretty sure she is the same woman he saw at the Bugle the other night. She’s only a few centimetres shorter than he is, but then she’s wearing a pair of kitten heels. Her black pencil skirt and white blouse practically scream out respectability and woman. Around her neck hangs a thin, golden necklace with a little golden heart attached to it. A fleeting question of who has given her this pass his brain. And then there’s her hair, brown and styled in and fashionable curls.

“Sir” she says, and she sounds sterner now, a little wrinkle between her eyebrows “could you please pu-“ but before she can finish the sentence, before she can even finish her though Tom’s pushed her down on the ground, trying to cover her with his body as bullets fly around him. He swears under his breath, and he feels the librarians still body under him and he can practically feel her heartbeat. He tries very hard not to react to how close their bodies are to each other. His hyper focused mind hears her hitched breathing even above the sound of a firing gun and he sends a silence prayer to whatever god might be listening that she’ll get out of this unharmed.

The witness is far away from them, all across the hall and if it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t want to leave this woman unprotected he would just hope for the best and rush against him, firing as many bullets as he had and if he survived this, and if Harrison found out he would just have to take his scolding later. Still trying to cover the women underneath him he raises his gun and fires. He knows the chances of him aiming right are damn near zero from here, but he wants to make it clear to the other man that he sure is not going to give in without a fight.

Still keeping his eyes on the bookshelf the witness has hidden behind he whispers to the librarian, “when I move off you, go hide behind the bookshelf, do not run for the main entrance whatever you do, but if there’s another way out, and you get a chance to leave, I suggest you fucking take it miss”. He hears a hiss of breath and then, a quiet “alright” and that is all he needs.

Springing to his feet he rushes seven meters ahead and then throws himself down behind another bookshelf. Daring to cast a look behind him he just about manages to see the secretary hide behind another bookshelf. Good, he thinks to himself, at least he doesn’t have to worry about her. And so he sprints out from the bookshelf and runs for all his might straight against the bookshelf the witness is hiding behind. It doesn’t fall, but he can hear countless of books falling, hopefully all over the man with the gun. He hears a shout of surprise and despite the situation he can’t help but smiling, the all too familiar rush of adrenalin runs through him and he jumps around the corner. However, before he can even raise his weapon something hard hits his temple and the world goes white for a moment as he stumbles over.

The other man is above him, throwing punches, hitting different places of Tom’s face with every hit. Tom tries kicking and luckily enough the stupid idiot above him has mounted him at chest level and haven’t taken his legs in consideration. One of Tom’s kicks hits the shelf and as he grabs the man's arms with his, stopping the flow of punches he sees a thick book (Dostoevsky’s The Idiot, he notices with glee) fall down and hit the man straight on the head. This time it’s his turn to stumble and Tom shake him off him with ease, but the other man quickly recovers, and lunches over him again, arms stretched out to grasp around his throat. Before he can even try to fight the bigger man off him, the loud sound of the shot of a gun echoes against the walls of the library and he stills. Then he feels it. A bright burning in his side and then, another shot.

He manages to turn around trying to make sense of the situation. On the floor lays the hostile witness, clutching his leg, where he’s clearly just been shot, and above him stands the librarian. Arms shaking as she’s clasping the gun in her hands.

For a moment Tom forgets about everything else. The mess they’ve made. The fact the police must be on their way. The bleeding man beside him. The fact that he’s bleeding too. All he sees is he terrified but impossibly brave woman in front of him.

Slowly, trying to ignore the pain in the side of his stomach, he gets up and walks over to her, arms stretched up in a gesture to show that he means her no harm, for she looks terrified to the point where she’s trembling all over. Her eyes are still fixed on the man on the ground, who’s shouting in agony.  

“Look at me” he says, and his voice is firm and calm “Hey, miss, look at me”. She does, and something in his stomach churns. Once in the woods he and Harrison had all but stumbled over an injured deer, it had had the same look upon its face then as the woman had upon hers now. But he doesn’t flinch, don’t want her to lose focus but keep it on him and not the bleeding bastard on the floor.

When he finally reaches her, he takes the gun from her still clasped hands, unloads it, and put it in its folder by his chest.

“You’ll be alright, yeah? I promise you’ll be alright” he tries to reassure her but she keeps looking at him with that utterly terrified look on her face.

“Just hang on for a second, alright?” He doesn’t want take his eyes off of her, but he knows he has to, so he turns away from her and walks over to the injured man. Leaning down over him he whispers in his ear “mate, the police and probably the ambulance are on their way. They will be here any moment. Now, listen up, alright, ‘cause I’m only saying this once. You will be a fucking gentleman about this and when the police ask what happened here you’ll tell them it was some randy bugger trying to nick your stuff, yeah? You defended yourself, ‘cause you’re a lad and all that bullocks. They won’t believe you, but they can’t prove anything else.” His voice is low and threatening and he knows he has the witness full attention. “And in return” he continues “in return, I’ll stop hunting you over this Faulcon business, yeah? I’ll go after someone else, and when I finally have enough to turn that bastard over to the police, your name won’t be mentioned anywhere, yeah?” The man looks up at him with bloodshot eyes and nods.

Moving away from him he swiftly walks over to where the other mans’ revolver got lost in the fight and he takes it, places it in the inside pocket of his jacket. Then he walks over to the librarian, who, apart from her shaking hands has not moved a muscle. She’s staring at him, but not at his face this time, but eyes fixed on the wound at his right side. It’s pretty much only graced him. It still hurts though, and a bloodstain is growing ever larger and larger, staining his white button ups to the point where he doubts he’ll ever get the red out.

“Miss, look at me, yeah?” He tried to get eye-contact with her again, because even if she’s been incredible brave so far, she looks as if she’s about to pass out “Just focus on me, I’ve got to get us out of here thought, do you know any other way then the main entrance? Some back door?”

As he’s talking he buttons up the suit jacket, effectively hiding the wound. He sees her eyes flicker down for a brief second as he does so. Then, as if she suddenly wakes up she takes a breath so deep he can’t help but to wonder if her lungs had been empty. “Yes” she then says, and he feels the immense relief over the fact that her voice sounds clear and controlled again. “It leads straight out into a back alley and then out on Gordon Street.”

He stares at her, taking her in again. Her dark hair still in perfect curls framing her, perhaps somewhat paler, face. Her back is straight, her hands still somewhat shaking. He notices her red fingertips, and no gold ring to be seen. At least he doesn’t have to deal with some unknown husband, who probably wouldn’t be too happy with him if he’d heard what Tom dragged her into.

“What’s your name?” he asks, because he has to know.

“Laura” she breath out.  

Just a first name then.  

“Well Laura” he says “let’s leave”.

He takes one of her shaking hands in his, and she leads the way out of the chaotic scene, leaving behind them a massive hall and a labyrinth of bookshelves and in that labyrinth an injured man slowly losing consciousness.

***

A/N -  Harrisons family is of course entirely fictionalised. As is everyone in this story.  

Also, my sort of face claim for Laura in this story is Gene Tierney, but imagine it as whoever you like.

[somuchtostudysolittletime]

hi i think tumblr might have eaten my previous ask but i'm a yr 12 in england considering pharmacy. unfortunately i don't know anyone i could ask about it so could you tell me a bit about the good the bad and the dirty of being a pharmacy student in the uk please? i'm trying to convince my parents that this is what i want but they feel that i'm not well informed enough so just something from a former student's pov would be great

(if not and you just didn't want to answer i'm really sorry about this and you don't have to answer)

Hi! I am so so so sorry for not responding - I thought I had but my post seems to have vanished :/ Also, a pre-warning, this’ll be SUPER long if you really want the good, the bad, and the dirty. Also I wrote thoughts as I had them so this is not in a coherent order sorry haha. If you have any questions, please let me know and I’ll do my best to help, my final exam to become a pharmacist is a week away so I might not respond super fast because I am Dying but I’ll do my best!

TLDR- pharmacy is fab.

Okay first, in case you don’t know, pharmacy is 4 years. Then you do a pre-reg year when you work full time, then you sit your final exam, then you’re a pharmacist. They’re reviewing this after covid broke the system completely and left my year in a mess, but for now that’s what you can expect to get yourself into.

The good!!!

Pharmacy is super interesting!! Learning about how medicines affect the body and how the body affects the medicines is so interesting, and you’ll become an expert in medicines - what to use when, what shouldn’t be used together, and how to get the most benefit out of them. 

You’re with all the other pharmacy students SO much that you end up with a really close-knit group of friends because you’re all together all the time in lectures/labs/etc

It has great job prospects - you have a masters degree. Be a community pharmacist, a hospital pharmacist, an industry pharmacist, teach pharmacy, quit pharmacy and do science, there are SO many options that you can do with a pharmacy degree! And, at the end of uni you’re basically guaranteed a job.

Because pharmacy is SO intense, you have a lot of contact time, so you’re getting your £9,250 worth! You can expect to be in classes pretty much 9-5 for the first year or so, it’s super busy so you learn time management pretty fast!

By the time you graduate they’ll have changed the system so much that I’m p sure you’ll be a prescriber on graduation, or the year after which is SUPER cool and means you have even more job opportunities open to you. 

Pharmacy labs have so much variety - you have chemistry labs (the classic - make paracetamol, extract aspirin, use chemicals), biology labs (microbiology and physiology too so monitoring heart rate etc), and then pharmaceutics labs - my one true love. Making creams, making tablets, making all sorts of medicines which is so much fun

You also have dispensing classes where you’re essentially learning how to be a pharmacist, how to dispense, how to check medicines, how to make sure they’re safe, how to advise patients on how to use them which is super fun! 

As well as labs and dispensing classes, you’ll also have normal lectures, seminars, workshops etc so it’s super varied with lots of learning methods. Also you get to go on placements to put your learning into practice which really really helps!

It’s great to actually be a pharmacist - I LOVE helping people and being able to make a difference to patients

In uni most modules are mandatory, so as well as knowing your friends well, you’ll know your lecturers well. By 4th year I got on so well with most of my lecturers, it’s like a pharmacy family

You get to use a mixture of science and clinical skills - you use the science from A levels and the start of your degree and build upon it to find out why drugs work and why they have x side effect and why you can’t use them in y people. 

4 year course = extra year at uni = one more freshers week and one more year of not paying council tax and one more year of fun with your friends before real life

I couldn’t not mention the BPSA - it’s the British Pharmaceutical Students Association and they do events and a week long conference every year over Easter which is lit- you meet other pharmacy students from other schools of pharmacy and debate pharmacy, have guests talk to you, do workshops, get evening entertainment, it really is the best PLUS then you learn about the European version of the BPSA and can go abroad if you’re lucky!

Graduating with a masters with your best friends and the lecturers that supported you through 4 years of hard work is one of the best things to ever happen!!!!!! Fab achievement

The bad!

Pharmacy is really hard. It’s 4 years of hard work, then more hard work after you graduate. You need to be committed to pharmacy because it is LONG and HARD and you will undoubtedly have times that you want to quit. I did pharmacy whilst on a range of antidepressants (don’t worry, the depression came first - pharmacy isn’t THAT bad) and it was brutal at times. The workload is intense.

It’s really tiring - I remember a time in first year where I was in lectures all day, went home to eat, then went to the library all evening to revise for exams. Now I’m old I’m just tired and I don’t have the stamina for that but there are times where pharmacy will wear you out - but the successes are worth it. 

Because it’s 4 years long, your non pharmacy friends will graduate before you. My campus was impossible to walk across without seeing someone you know, and then at 4th year that just ends because everyone leaves at 3rd year. And you feel really old because the freshers are 18 and excited about uni and you’re 22 and tired.

People don’t like pharmacists. That isn’t strictly true, but don’t read anything on facebook about pharmacists. The general public don’t know what we do and therefore they don’t like us and see us as the barrier between them and their medicines. Also if a medicine has been discontinued that is YOUR fault personally and the patient will tell you ‘if I die it’s your fault’ - usually over something stupid like heartburn meds. Don’t let it get to you though - the patients who appreciate us and say kind things really do make up for all the abuse. 

You need a life outside pharmacy or it’ll get too much pharmacy- especially if you live with pharmacists too. You’re together 24/7 and that’s too much so make sure you join a sport or a society so you can talk to people about something other than medicines. 

The dirty

People think you’re a wannabe medic. Medical students also don’t like pharmacy students - or maybe that was just my uni. We try and say pharmacy is hard that they will ALWAYS one-up us. Whatever, when they’re qualified and we save their ass catching a prescribing error, they’ll love us then

Everyone knows everyone in pharmacy. The other day I got really excited when I attended a webinar and one of the hosts was a guy who wrote one of my fave textbooks. It is a VERY small world, so make sure you’re hardworking and kind so people have the right impression!

[ridiasfangirlings]

Beauty and the beast Mikorei? Mikoto got cursed, and now it's up to this pretentious little snob to break the spell on Homra castle. Bonus sarumi please and thank you!!

Beast!Mikoto probably wouldn't even want to imprison Munakata, like he'd rather give Munakata back now so that he can get in a proper nap without being woken up and lectured at thanks. So maybe Munakata's living in this small provincial town where he's known for being very striking and regal and extraordinary and also no one really knows what to do with him because he's such a strange dork. Munakata doesn't mind though, he enjoys living in his humble shack and studying the finer points of the tax code and all that. One day he sends his favorite servant, Fushimi, to go to the next town in order to trade some of the vegetables Munakata's grown in his garden. He adds that if Fushimi could pick him up a new puzzle on his way back that would be excellent as well, Fushimi rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue and says whatever as he heads out to the next village over on his horse Akiyama.

On the way back from the village Fushimi gets caught in a storm and loses his horse and the wagon, he ends up stumbling into an old castle for shelter. It's cold and damp inside and Fushimi wonders how no one even knew this castle was here, it's stupidly obvious in the middle of the forest. He's complaining about how shitty the castle is when finally this angry voice starts shouting at him like hey don't call Mikoto-san's castle shitty you asshole. Fushimi throws a knife in the direction of the voice on instinct and then lights a match, it seems that all his knife struck was an old candelabra. Fushimi wonders if he was hearing things as he lights the candles and picks up the candelabra in his hand, a second later the candelabra starts yelling at him and Fushimi almost drops the thing on the floor. A wine glass hops over saying now Yata's done it, Yata's like but Kusanagi-san didn't you hear this guy. The footstool says it's fine, he's sure it'll be all right and why don't they let their guest sit down. Fushimi has had quite enough of this by now though and he decides he needs to go somewhere that the furniture isn't talking, except he gets turned around in the dark and ends up in a room where there's this small flame burning all on its own under a glass dome. Fushimi walks closer to it, curious, which is when he hears the sound of a beast moving behind him and all the light suddenly goes out.

Munakata meanwhile is still waiting at home for Fushimi to return, instead horse Akiyama shows up alone without a rider. Munakata becomes concerned and decides to go searching himself, heading back the way Fushimi would have gone. Eventually he comes upon the castle, Munakata leaves his horse tethered outside and enters. The place is quiet and Munakata lights the lamp he brought with him, he spots some knife marks on a table and realizes Fushimi must have come here. Deducing the layout of the castle from what he saw outside Munakata heads into where he figures the dungeon is and there he finds Fushimi, arguing with a candelabra. Munakata is totally unruffled, noting that he's glad to see Fushimi as Fushimi expresses surprise that Munakata's there. He starts to tell Munakata that he needs to leave before the 'Red Monster' comes back but it's too late, there's a sound near the door and Munakata turns to see a beast with burning eyes standing in the doorway wondering why everyone's been coming into his castle lately.

Munakata formally introduces himself and says that he is Fushimi's master, and any crime Fushimi may have committed to get himself locked away is therefore Munakata's as well. Mikoto snorts and says he's not interested in frilly words, Fushimi saw something he shouldn't have seen. Munakata raises his lamp a bit in order to illuminate Mikoto's face, Mikoto waits for him to give any kind of indication that he's frightened but instead Munakata gives a smug smirk and says it seems he has seen something as well, and therefore he should be imprisoned too. Mikoto sighs because this is such a pain and finally he's like whatever, you both can stay here then. Yata's like wait Mikoto-san what did you say and Mikoto says they don't have enough cells anyway, take Fushimi down to the kitchen where he can work with the other servants and find a room for Munakata. He'll let Kusanagi figure out what to do with them later, he needs a nap.

So now Munakata and Fushimi are 'trapped' inside the Beast's place for the foreseeable future. Fushimi gets to do chores (badly, all while Yata complains at him and wonders how Fushimi was ever a servant when he can't even do laundry or clean dishes) and he learns Mikoto's whole deal, he once refused to let an ugly old witch inside the castle and so he and all his servants were cursed, if Mikoto can't find someone to love him before the magic flame dies they'll all be cursed forever. Fushimi's just like 'tch, serves him right' and Yata's all it wasn't his fault and anyway, definitely someone will come along who will fall in love with Mikoto-san. Fushimi wonders if he should tell Munakata this and then figures he better not, Munakata won't be able to stop himself from examining the magic flame and he'll probably screw something up.

Elsewhere, Munakata has been exploring the entire castle including the parts he was expressly told not to and has, in fact, found the magic flame and is currently examining it. Mikoto shows up behind him and notes that Munakata's not so good at following directions, Munakata says on the contrary, as a captive surely he is within his rights to do whatever it takes in order to escape. Mikoto's starting to think that maybe he doesn't want Munakata as a captive because he's more trouble than he's worth but of course Munakata is intrigued now and he isn't leaving until he teaches Suoh some manners. Mikoto decides he's definitely not letting this guy leave until he's wiped that smug smile off his face and Munakata says Mikoto is welcome to try, but first they are going to discuss silverware and why it should be used at every meal. Eventually even Fushimi starts to notice how well they're getting along, like they act as if they hate each other but they're always spending time together (oh, imagine Mikoto gives Munakata the library because he figures a pretentious little punk like Munakata would want this kind of thing, the servants walk by later to see Munakata reading while Mikoto is half asleep leaning against his back, listening to the sound of Munakata's voice) and they wonder if maybe Munakata will be the one to break the curse, if he could just stop being himself for five minutes.

[slashingdisneypasta]

oMG OMG WHAT IF the Smithsonian villains won and took over the world!(?) what do you think that would look like? + you are their s/o or you choose all of them. What would happen?

Honestly, I was always waiting for Kah to pull a fast one on the other villains from the get-go, and take the whole world for himself. I mean, Ivan, Napoleo and Al were all just basically glorified body guards for him. 

Once he had his army of the dead, what would he need them for? And Kah’s a freaken murderous psychopath- he does not have a conscious or moral code. I mean, please. 

In the event that Al, Napoleon and Ivan actually did get to help run the world though, and this is assuming they find a way to be awake during the day again and go outside and everything, then here’s what I think it would be like!

Ivan would be pretty chill and, yes, rule the area that is his new domain and probably make everyone speak Russian, but mostly he just hangs out in his library? Especially when you’re around with him, then he REALLY isn't interested in inflicting evil on his citizens or using his power. People who live under his rule live a pretty okay life, except for having to speak a language they may not know or understand yet. 

Kah is basically the Queen of Hearts except with zero desire to be loved or to have friends. He has no conscience and his favourite thing is using his power against others. Doesn't really kill that many people though unless they actually pose a risk to his rein. Prefers to have living subjects to torture rather then to behead everyone. To him, everyone (except you) lives to please him. He owns everyone in his domain (And the other domains too). Probably is planning a mutiny against the other villains. 

Wherever Al rules is now basically Gangster city. Its run by him, and therefore all his family of corrupt, desperado buddies. You are basically Queen. There’s no prohibition, of course, so he loses an entire section of his ‘business’, so he just goes to home on the more murdery / kidnappy / bang bang parts. As soon as he sniffs a hint of rebellion or a mouse from Kah’s or Napoleon’s domains then he deals with it with surprising brains, precision and prejudice. His world is made up of manipulation and threats... and well dressed men, and alcohol and gambling. 

Napoleon’s realm is very old fashioned. The moment you drive in, its the 17 hundreds again. He is a benevolent ruler though, in that he saw what happened to King Louis XVI in the Revolution and is just too smart to let that happen to him. Listens to the people, lessens the tax weight off Bourgeoisie's shoulders by taking an equal and fair amount from everyone, listen to his financial advisers, etc. But that does not make him any less power hungry- Napoleon Boneparte is a megalomaniac. So while Ivan and Al are happy with the space they have to rule over, Napoleon (Like Kah) wants more. He’s planning a grab for more land. 

You9If you chose them all) spend 3 months with each of them a year. So 3 months in, basically, Vegas, 3 in Dystopian Egypt, 3 in some weird place that isn't Russia but in which everyone speaks Russian but apart from that is normal, and 3 in the 16th century with Napoleon. There are comforts and hitches to being in any of these places. 

Earth is now a dark, weird place. 

I just vomited all over this ask, XD :D 

[randomly-aware-memories]

Day 2: The Start of a Tour

As a visitor, it might be hard to notice where exactly the city begins, but at some point, after curated forest replaces the wild one and houses replace the fields, you will know. If you are following on one of the white streets, a change in the pavement’ color, any color, is a sure sign as well. White has become a color mourning here, after all.

The city has no strict border, just as you and any living thing, and just like you again it still has a wall. You will have walked a while until you have reached it, three stories of burned bricks stacked atop each other, reaching into the sky with which they share the color.

Depending on the reason of your visit, now you have different options. Are you here to hide, to spend the year in shadow and emerge a person free? Then stride through the ever open gates as if this was your home, for now it is. No need for a record; you will have other ways of proving your time on these grounds once the year is over. Are you hiding without the intention to emerge? Are you sick beyond the hope of cure or beyond the want for one? I won’t judge you, this city is a better place for the faceless than most others. Still, if the illness you carry is named and you want to keep your agency, make sure you remain unseen or at least unnoticed.

But, of course, you might be who you claim to be, a traveler, an immigrant. In those cases, you should follow the wall until find one of the former border houses. This is where you get your visa, independent of type it’ll last you four month and can be extended once by the same amount. Twice if you belong to one of the recognized cities. A longer stay lets the paperwork turn you into a citizen, with all its privileges and responsibilities. Though if that is what you are after, you can begin that process right away. For foreigners such as I used to be, barbarians as they sometimes call us, it includes a course on social custom, law and hygiene. Taxes cover the expenses of the lessons and since you are expected to pay yours soon enough, the only fees incur when you fail to participate. It is possible to visit the course as traveler, too, and even recommended for those who plan to return or do long-term trading, but in those cases you have to pay it out of your own pocket.

Along with a visa and other formalities, as a foreigner you will be given a visitor’s face. Or if you do not want to wear one out of religious or political reasons, a badge. Either option marks you as an outsider, someone who does not know the rules and therefore cannot be expected to act on them. Such a mark is not mandatory, but has the advantage of turning people’s opinions towards your mistakes milder. Uneducated is a more generous label than incompetent and you do not want to make the police think of you as ill.

Now that you have fully arrived, the city is bursting with opportunities for you to visit and experience!

This was supposed to be a full tour, showing off various districts and sights, but I spent too long talking about...you have read it. Still, I liked that part, so I’ll share it, and add what could actually be considered, in the broadest sense, the city’s geography once I’ve written about it.

More briefly: The Old City is centered around the destroyed temple of its former god. A high number of Listeners in White live there, still clinging to their old believes and having invented a couple of new ones. The Memorial of Dust stands here.

Not far from it is the New City, centered around the Palace of Government. It is not homogenous and all districts inside the former border wall are considered part of it. There are busy streets and calm neighborhoods, public parks and libraries and schools, markets and theaters. Not few quarters are specific to certain ethnic groups and if they are considered a minority, are given the right to impose their own rules on those grounds. Dark Districts refer to places where Mirror Walkers and Dry Divers live with low regards for the common culture. Not all of them are legally dark.

The Outer Districts are populated by those who moved into the city more recently and old families who wanted bigger properties. All neighborhoods considered “barbarian” are to be found here, as well as the Reincarnation Archive, though a smaller office of its recently opened up in the Old City.

[tempusetspatiumsims]

Gen 9 & 10 - High Medieval Age

“With the fall of the invaders and the restoration of the crop supplies, governments emerge once again. Community lots, old customs and learning once again emerge”

Social ranks are back but the rise and fall of the population from previous eras might have changed how social classes are developed in this age. In this Age, ranks are developed based on which family has the biggest resources (Crops, collectibles, lots and simoleons in the Household), Influence (Friends outside the Household), and Skills (Total Skills gained of the entire Household) at the end of the Dark Ages. The family who has the most resources will become part of the Monarchy, the next in line are the Nobility / Lordship after that are the Cityfolks (Merchants), and last, on the social ladder are the Peasants. The Clergy Class will be conformed by sims from different households and social classes, your choice.

Some General Rules and unlocks for all classes:

o Aspirational Changes  - “After a couple of centuries, some Medieval Sims discovered the pleasure of a life surrounded with expensive things while others simply wanted to see their children grow up.”

Sims may now also pursuit the Successful Lineage, Super Parent, Academic, and Mansion Baron aspirations. Also, by this time your sims can choose another aspiration once they finish the first one. if your sim by random choice get the Academic aspiration then they have to leave their household and join the Clergy

o New Activities - “Medieval Sims found many new ways to keep themselves entertained, and made sure that their children were given plenty of opportunities to hone the skills they would use later in life.” Sims may now also buy and use dolls/bears, kids’ activity tables, monkey bars, pianos, pipe organs, punching bags, horseshoe pits, pumpkin carving stations, puppet theaters and wishing wells.

o Romance in the Kingdom - “Though most Medieval Sims found love in one partner, some Sims’ desire for more extended beyond mere material wealth.” Sims may now use the “safe” woohoo option.

Females always get the social status of their husbands therefore, the female moves out to their husband's household.   

Male Sims may take lovers of any gender in secret, while females can only have affairs with males.

If a female is caught cheating on her husband, she must be removed from the family. If she was pregnant at the time, that child is considered a bastard and cannot be added to the main family. Illegitimate sons will take their mother status unless their fathers decide to recognize them as part of the family.

Monarchy:

The firstborn son will become King and will take the Throne once that either, becomes an Adult or if the previous King dies before his adulthood. As Heir of the throne, he should never move out of the castle except for going to the University. If the monarchy runs out of Male heirs the throne will belong to the closest Male familiar and the previous Monarchs entire family is demoted into Nobles.

Heirs must take a job in Politics (Politician Branch). Non-Heir Males can take a job on the Military (Officer Branch). Also, they might own Big size farms and employ peasants to work for them. Female members of the Monarchy can't take any jobs. They will use their free time to cultivate their Charisma, Painting, Singing, Violin, Flower Arranging, and Pipe Organ Skills.

Male teens must go to school and later be sent to universities.

They have to Marry with members of the Monarchy Or Noble Class Sims. They can have affairs with sims of other social classes. Bastard sons are not eligible as an Heir.

May have as many servants as they want. Servants would live in the castle but they would be treated as peasants.

Clergy:

The oldest member with more influential friends (Monarchy, Nobility, Wealthy Merchants) and with more earned skills will become the High Priest and the Head of the Church Order.

The Clergy is the keeper of the Education, Knowledge, Graveyards and adoption system. They are in charge of Universities (Britechester at this moment), Libraries and graveyards lots also this class belongs to University teachers, Librarians, and social services NPCs / Townies.

Once you join this Class you have to change the Sim aspiration to Academic, also they live under an abstinent vow. They can not marry anyone in their lives. The Church will maintain its population by adopting unwanted children from other sims and/or with those who are willing to take the vows.

The Clergy gets their funds by taking the Education Career (Professor and Administrator Branches), Politics (Charity Organizer Branch), Selling fruits and vegetables from their farms, Selling baked goods, asking for donations from sims and by receiving a tax help from other citizens.

Nobility / Lords:

The firstborn son will be the family Heir at the moment he becomes an Adult. As Heir, he should never move out of the castle except for going to the University.  Non-Heirs males members can join the Church but they must leave the family castle and lose their nobility titles.

Heirs must marry members of the Monarchy or Nobility, however, non-heirs can marry whoever they chose.

Heirs and Male Non-Heirs can take a job in either Politics (Charity Organizator Branch) or Military (Officer Branch) Also, they might own medium sized farms and employ peasants to work for them. Female members of the Nobility can't take any jobs. They will use their free time to cultivate their  Charisma, Painting, Singing, Violin, Flower Arranging, and Pipe Organ Skills.

Single women of the family are not permitted to live alone. However, if her husband dies, they can live alone if they want.

Must send their kids and teens to school. But only male members can go later to the University.

If a Nobleman is marrying a member of the Monarchy he must have a job in Politics or Military, have his Charisma, Fitness and Research & Debate Skills maxed.

If a Noblewoman is marrying a member of the Monarchy she must have at least a level 7 on at least 3 of the following skills: Charisma, Painting, Singing, Violin, Flower Arranging, and Pipe Organ. The Bride’s family must give to the future husband 5.000 $ as a bethroyal gift.

May have as many servants as they want. They would live in the castle but they would be treated as peasants.

Each week, the family must pay taxes, 15 % of their hand cash as taxes to the Monarchs.

Cityfolks (Merchant Families):

The firstborn Sim will be the family Heir at the moment they become an Adult. As Heir / Heiress, they should never move out of the house lot.

Cityfolks may marry whomever they desire however to marry a member of the Nobility, the family must have at least 15000 $ in hand cash, at least level 7 on the Charisma Skill and reached at least a Good Reputation.

If a young woman is marrying a member of the Nobility, the Bride’s family must give to the future husband 3.000 $ as a bethroyal gift. No Bethroyal gift is required for Peasants.

May own Get Together Retail Stores, small farms and/or sell their goods on the City Living / Jungle Adventures “Come and Get it Street Store” tables. Teenagers can help with the business or take a job in the Manual Labor (Males only) or Baby Sitter (Females only)

May “Rent” rooms to other Cityfolks and Peasants with the Discovery University Roommate feature

They can hire peasants for help in the business, farms or home help.

Only wealthy families can send their kids and teens to school. Also, Only wealthy families can send the male members of the family to the University.

Each week, Cityfolks have to pay 30% of their hand cash as taxes to the Nobility.

Each week, Cityfolks have to pay 10% of their hand cash as taxes to the Clergy.

Peasants Families:

Any Sim, no matter the sex or birth order can be the family Heir. But you have to delimitate who is going to be the Heir / Heiress once they reach the Young Adult stage. As Heir / Heiress, they should never move out of the house lot.

They can work for Monarchy, Nobility, or Merchants families as domestic help, farmers, prostitutes, gems and metal gatherers and/or in stores. But also can take a job in the Manual Labor, Fisherman (Males only) or Baby Sitter (Females only). They can share a community garden with other peasants.

Peasants can get married to whomever they want but if the person is on a higher social rank once they move in, they lost their status and becomes a Peasant.

Peasant kids and teens can’t go to school

Male teenagers may go to school if they reach a high Charisma

Each week, Peasants have to pay 30% of their hand cash as taxes to the Nobility.

Each week, Peasants have to pay 10% of their hand cash as taxes to the Clergy.

[thelawgraduate]

A Week In The Life of a Summer Legal Intern at BCLP

Back in October 2018 I successfully applied for a summer vacation scheme placement at Bryan Cave Leighton Paisner, a full-service law firm in London. Initially, I was drawn to the firm after meeting genuine and engaging trainees at a law fair at University. After researching further, I gained more of an understanding of who the firm’s client list includes (Goldman Sachs, Deliveroo and Apple to name a few) and the type of services they provide (based around four key practice pillars: corporate, finance, real estate, and litigation and corporate risk). Although I am certain that I want to pursue a career in law, I am not yet set on which area of law I would like to qualify into. Therefore, it is important for me to be able to train at a firm like BCLP who offer both depth and breadth of work opportunities to their trainees.

After what simultaneously felt like a lifetime and no time at all, June rolled around and it was time for my vacation scheme placement to begin. Helpfully, the firm’s graduate recruitment team had been in frequent communication with us since we were offered a place on the program - sharing information ranging from accommodation recommendations to a thirty-minute phone call offering feedback from our assessment centre. This really put me at ease as I felt as though they were really invested in making sure that we all felt as comfortable and prepared for the scheme as we could. After I moved into my accommodation nearby, I took this beautiful photo of the skyline view from right outside the firm’s office.

Monday

On Monday we spent the whole day being welcomed into the firm. We were given an inspiring talk from the London office’s managing partner, Segun Osuntokun. As a person of colour, working at a genuinely diverse and inclusive law firm is of paramount importance to me. BCLP is co-chaired by two women, and the managing partner of the London office is a black man. These two stats alone show that not only do the firm aim for diversity at junior levels, but there are diverse figures in the most senior positions, too. Later in the week, I was able to meet with Daisy Reeves, partner and LGBT* champion at the firm. She discussed the firm’s different LGBT* initiatives and how they have reached second place on Stonewall’s Workplace Equality Index. On Monday afternoon we were briefed on our ongoing vacation scheme pro bono project with Reprieve, where our work will actually be used to inform the organisation’s work. 

Tuesday

During the vacation scheme, you are allocated one department for each week you are at the firm, as well as trainee, associate, and partner buddies to support you within those departments. On Tuesday my trainee buddy and I got to attend court on a financial remedy case, which was a really exciting opportunity. Here, my attention to detail was a key skill as my written notes would be typed up and form a record of what had taken place at the hearing. I didn’t get to spend much time in my department afterwards, but I began to write up my court attendance note as I knew that it would be a lengthy task. In the late afternoon, Michael Anderson delivered a session titled How the City Works and explained more about his role as a partner in the corporate finance team. Afterwards, we had a networking session with our buddies for our second seats (as well as other trainees) which made us all feel excited for next week.

Wednesday

Wednesday’s session was called Creating a City Landmark and focused on the various real estate projects the firm has undertaken in the City - most notably the Walkie Talkie building - and how trainees are involved at each stage of the process. As I will not be sitting with a real estate team during my time at the firm, I found this session really useful in explaining how the different real estate teams work independently and with other departments. Increasingly, BCLP is finding that their work is sector-focused rather than departmentalised, meaning that communication and collaboration within the firm are more important than ever. Afterwards, we were treated to a four-course lunch where four vacation scheme students ate with a partner, two associates, and a member of graduate recruitment. This was another opportunity to learn more about different departments at the firm, as well as learning about their experiences both joining the firm and progressing to senior positions within it. Towards the end of the day, I attended a video conference that the private client tax team held on Controlled Foreign Corporations. They were linked with their counterpart teams in the New York City and Atlanta offices. Following the merger between Berwin Leighton Paisner (UK) and Bryan Cave (USA) in 2018, the firm regularly holds these information-sharing sessions to ensure that the firm takes a cohesive approach to its advice to clients and that both legacy firms are aware of how each jurisdiction operates.

Thursday

Our first session on Thursday morning was a Transport and Asset Finance case study. A partner in the team, Jamie Wiseman-Clarke, discussed what the firm does in this area, as well as sharing a number of examples of work that they have done for clients. This session was also live-linked to Hong Kong, allowing the vacation scheme students there to learn more about the department, too. Our case study was given to us the day before so that we could be quizzed on information on the term sheet for an aviation finance deal. We all took part in the quiz using our phones and it got very competitive! The graduate recruitment team totally re-designed the vacation scheme sessions to incorporate more interactivity, so this was a fun way to learn about a finance deal. In the afternoon we were taught a session on How to Pitch to Clients by two business development managers. This was a great insight into how creativity and innovative thinking are championed at BCLP to pitch for work to new and existing clients. We found out that we will be doing our own client pitches next week which is another interactive way to showcase our presentation and creative thinking skills. Alongside the various presentation sessions and ongoing projects, we are given work within our department by different members of the team. One task I was asked to complete was research to determine whether our client was tax liable for a property they held overseas. I found that I was able to use my intuition and research skills to navigate online legal libraries to find updates in the area. I put together a memorandum for the trainee who gave me the task and ensured that I checked all spelling and grammar before sending it over. Although it may take an extra few minutes, it is definitely important to check every detail of a written task, as a small mistake can have a huge impact on your work.

Friday

I cannot believe how quickly the first week went by! Friday’s morning session by Bruce Braude (director of legal operations solutions) was around Innovation and Tech at BCLP. Again, this was linked to the vacation scheme students in Hong Kong - which is a visual representation of the global reach of the firm. I found the session really engaging as I am particularly interested in technology both in terms of client-side work and the legal tech used by BCLP. Bruce discussed how the firm stays ahead of its competition not only by buying into tech but,  also, having a culture driven by openness and embracing of change. BCLP is a market-leader in tech - they were the first firm to offer managed legal services, the first firm to make a flexible lawyer pool, and the first firm to offer a dedicated legal operations consultancy service for clients. For BCLP trainees, having technology in place to automate routine tasks is exciting as it means that trainees can spend that time being exposed to more complex legal work. We have been filmed throughout the week, and on Friday afternoon I was asked to go up to the roof of the office to film some scenic shots. I put aside all my fear of heights and the team made me feel really comfortable in front of the camera. I was invited to have lunch with all of the trainees in private client, which might sound minor but it really made me feel like part of the team (as they had done all week). Something that was made clear from day one is the importance of the culture at BCLP, and how the people at the firm are what differentiate it from their competitors. I definitely noticed the non-hierarchical nature of the teams as partners were always happy and willing to help me and answer any questions that I had. After work, most of the vacation scheme students headed to a nearby bar to celebrate the end of week one.

Next week

Our final partner interviews take place on Monday, where we will be asked a range of questions ranging from our career motivations and reasons for wanting to join BCLP to sharing what we have done in the first week. These interviews are really important, but the graduate recruitment team take a range of factors and feedback into account from across the two weeks before making training contract offers. I’m also taking part in the London Legal Walk on Monday after work with some other vacation schemers - a 10k walk around ‘Legal London’ with hundreds of lawyers to raise money for charity. I’m really looking forward to this as it is a great opportunity to get involved with all that the firm has to offer and raise money too! We have our Reprieve and client pitch project presentations next week, as well as a social event on Thursday evening. If you want to see what myself and the other schemers get up to next week, follow the BCLP trainees Instagram page here. If you want to know more about the firm, the work they do, and whether you could see yourself as a trainee, visit their website here.

[wisdomrays]

THE MIRACLES OF PROPHET MUHAMMAD (pbuh): The First Addendum: Part 6

FOURTEENTH DROPLET

The All-Wise Qur’an, the treasury of miracles and supreme miracle, proves the prophethood of Muhammad (PBUH) together with Divine Unity so decisively that it leaves no need for further proof. We shall therefore give its definition and indicate one or two flashes of its miraculousness which have been the cause of criticism.

The All-Wise Qur’an, which makes known to us our Sustainer, is as follows: it is the pre-eternal translator of the great Book of the Universe; the discloser of the treasures of the Divine Names concealed in the pages of the earth and the heavens; the key to the truths hidden beneath these lines of events; the treasury of the favours of the Most Merciful and of the pre-eternal addresses, which come forth from the World of the Unseen beyond the veil of this Manifest World; the sun, foundation, and plan of the spiritual world of Islam, and the map of the worlds of the hereafter; the distinct expounder, lucid exposition, articulate proof, and clear translator of the Divine Essence, attributes, and deeds; the instructor, true wisdom, guide, and leader of the world of humanity; it is both a book of wisdom and law, and a book of prayer and worship, and a book of command and summons, and a book of invocation and Divine knowledge-it is book for all spiritual needs; and it is a sacred library offering books appropriate to the ways of all the saints and veracious, the purified and the scholars, whose ways and paths are all different.

Consider the flashes of miraculousness in its repetitions, which are imagined to be a fault: since the Qur’an is both a book of invocation, and of prayer, and of summons, the repetition in it is desirable, indeed, it is essential and most eloquent. It is not as the faulty imagine. For the mark of invocation is illumination through repetition. The mark of prayer is strengthening through repetition. The mark of command and summons is confirmation through repetition. Moreover, everyone is not capable of always reading the whole Qur’an, but mostly is able to read one Sura. Therefore, since the most important purposes of the Qur’an are included in most of the longer Suras, each is like a small Qur’an. That is to say, so that no one should be deprived, certain of its purposes like Divine Unity, the resurrection of the dead, and the story of Moses, have been repeated.

Also, like bodily needs, spiritual needs are various. Man is in need of some of them each breath; like the body needs air, the spirit needs the word Hu (He). Some he is in need of each hour, like “In the Name of God.” And so on. That means the repetition of verses arises from the repetition of need. And it makes the repetition in order to point out the need and awaken and incite it, and to arouse desire and appetite.

Also, the Qur’an is a founder. It is the basis of the Clear Religion, and the foundation of the world of Islam. It changed human social life, and is the answer to the repeated questions of its various classes. Repetition is necessary for a founder in order to establish things. Repetition is necessary to corroborate them. Confirma-tion and repetition are necessary to strengthen them.Also, it speaks of such mighty matters and minute truths that numerous repetitions are necessary in different forms in order to establish them in the hearts of everyone. Nevertheless, they are apparently repetitions, but in meaning each verse has numerous meanings, numerous benefits, and many aspects and levels. In each place they are mentioned for a different meaning, benefit, and purpose. Also, the Qur’an’s being unspecific and concise in certain matters to do with the cosmos is a flash of miraculousness, and is for the purpose of guidance. It cannot be the cause of criticism and is not a fault, like some atheists imagine.

If you ask: “Why does the All-Wise Qur’an not speak of beings in the same way as philosophy and science? It leaves some matters in brief form, and some it speaks of in a simple and superficial way that is easy for the general view, does not wound people’s feelings, and does not weary or tax the minds of ordinary people. Why is this?”

By way of answer we say: Philosophy has strayed from the path of truth, that’s why. Also, of course you have understood from previous Words and what they teach that the All-Wise Qur’an speaks of the universe in order to make known the Divine Essence, attributes, and Names. That is, it explains the meanings of the Book of the Universe to make known its Creator. That means it looks at beings, not for themselves, but for their Creator. Also, it addresses everyone, while philosophy and science look at beings for themselves, and address scientists in particular. In which case, since the All-Wise Qur’an makes beings evidences and proofs, the evidence has to be superficial so that it will be quickly understood in the general view. And since the Qur’an of Guidance addresses all classes of men, the ordinary people, which form the most numerous class, want guidance which is concise with unnecessary things beings vague; in a way that brings subtle things close with comparisons, and does not change things which in their superficial view are obvious into an unnecessary or even harmful form, lest it causes them to fall into error.

For example, it says about the sun:

“The sun is a revolving lamp or lantern.”

This is because it does not speak of the sun for itself and its nature, but because it is a sort of mainspring of an order and centre of a system, and order and systems are mirrors of the Maker’s skill. It says: The sun runs its course that is, the sun revolves. Through calling to mind the orderly disposals of Divine power in the revolutions of winter and summer, and day and night with the phrase, The sun revolves, it makes known the Maker’s tremendousness. Thus, whatever the reality of this revolving, it does not affect the order, which is woven and observed, and which is the purpose. It also says,

“And set the sun as a lamp.”

Here, by depicting with the word ‘lamp’ the world in the form of a palace, and the things within it as decorations, necessities, and provisions prepared for man and living beings, and the sun as a subjugated candleholder, it makes known the Creator’s mercy and bestowal. Now look and see what this foolish and prattling philosophy says:

“The sun is a vast burning liquid mass. It causes the planets which have been flung off from it to revolve around it. Its mass is such-and-such. It is this, it is that.”

Apart from a terrible dread and fearful wonder, philosophy gives to the spirit no knowledge that will perfect it.

It does not speak of it as the Qur’an does. You may understand from this the value of the matters of philosophy, whose inside is hollow and outside, ostentatious. So do not be deceived by its glittering exterior and be disrespectful towards the miraculous expositions of the Qur’an!

[NOTE: The Six Drops of the Fourteenth Droplet in the Arabic Risale-i Nur, and especially the Six Points of the Fourth Drop, explain fifteen of the approximately forty sorts of miraculousness of the All-Wise Qur’an. Deeming those to be sufficient, we have limited the discussion here. If you wish, refer to them, and you will find a treasury of miracles...]

O God! Make the Qur’an healing for us, the writer of this and his peers, for all our ills, and a companion to us in our lives and after our deaths, and in this world, and in the grave, and at the Last Judgement an intercessor, and on the Bridge a light, and from the Fire a screen and shield, and in Paradise a friend, and in all good deeds a guide and leader, through Your grace and munificence and beneficence and mercy, O Most Munificent of the Munificent and Most Merciful of the Merciful! Amen.O God! Grant blessings and peace to the one to whom was revealed the All-Wise Qur’an, the Distinguisher between Truth and Falsehood, and to all his Family and Companions. Amen.

[cmwatlington-blog]

I have spent a majority of my adult life as a first responder working as a firefighter and paramedic. I began pursuing a master in public health for multiple reasons, one being the opportunity to learn outside my comfort zone. Yet, at the very first opportunity I had, I found myself drawn back into a familiar world. My time working as a first responder will forever be near and dear in my heart. Despite waking up every morning and being eager to go to work, I wanted more and waited for the opportunity to further my education. That said, I had mixed feelings about joining Team Prepare. I was excited; it felt comfortable and safe, but it also limited my goal of self-expansion. However, this team has provided me with the opportunity to reflect on the past. While working as a firefighter paramedic, I did not take the chance to do introspection often, perhaps due to the lack of opportunity of free time to let my mind go there, or maybe it was the culture I worked in. As a first responder, you focus on what you may have to do in the future. You continuously train to face the unknown and unknowable, so you're present to make the most of each situation to prepare you for the future better. I take that experience with me to help Team Prepare succeed. Team Prepare has selected leaders for each deliverable, and we are working diligently in smaller groups and as a team to achieve our goals.

Our first deliverable is increasing vaccination awareness and emergency preparedness. Until this assignment, I never really gave vaccinations much thought. It just seemed like the only option if you can get vaccinated. I indeed came into contact with individuals who legitimately for one reason or another couldn’t get vaccinated. I find it frustrating that people claim that vaccines cause autism, which can take a nearly eradicated disease like measles and cause it to spread in the most vulnerable populations (i.e. children). Yet I am exercising empathy by seeking to understand why a parent would choose the risk of potentially fatal diseases over raising a child with autism. Jules and Emily are heading this project and have put together a vaccination flyer for upcoming events.

Preparedness runs in my blood, perhaps to a fault. I’m a planner, a scheduler, and a prepper. Although in the last two years I have been humbled on just how small I am up against nature. In fact, I seem to find a new sense of focus in such situations. The emergency zone is where I work best. It is an intense, internal battle. I am not a procrastinator, yet I work better under pressure, often in the form of time. Shirl and I created an emergency preparedness flyer to prepare for Hurricane Florence landfall. Many two-lane country roads were impassable due to the amount of rain during the storm and will continue to be for some time. This storm has completely cut-off some rural communities, furthering the importance of preparedness.

The second deliverable is spreading the word of the importance of volunteerism at the local fire station. Recruitment in the fire service is hard for me to understand. I worked at a department that was completely paid, and the hiring process was extremely competitive due to the number of applicants. The dynamics of career firefighters and volunteer firefighters are much different. I understand that it may be difficult to drop what you’re doing at a moment’s notice for an unknown amount of time to help a stranger in need. I also know that there are stereotypes about the type of people suited for such a position. My mother always told me you could do anything you work hard enough to do. So naturally, I never thought that being female was a barrier to anything, but I have since realized that my opinion is in the minority. This deliverable provides me with the opportunity to share the same advice with women and minorities of the community and encourage them to represent the community they serve, regardless of the hidden biases or prejudices others may hold. I have scripted a video with scenes to be recorded, launched via a Facebook campaign, and will be dispersing flyers and announcements at local churches throughout the community. I have also created a citizen’s fire academy that will give the members of the community first-hand exposure to some of the roles and responsibilities of volunteering at the Fire Department. Often property taxes in larger cities are higher, but employment resources are also more plentiful. Rural communities have fewer employment opportunities and therefore need to maintain lower property taxes for residents. Volunteer first responder services are vital to slowing the rise of property taxes, especially in rural areas.

The next deliverable is increasing mental health awareness resources for first responders. However, raising awareness and utilization are two wildly different things. Mental health in the general population is stigmatized, but mental health in the fire service is even more stigmatized. It is incredibly humbling for a “hero” to admit that they are struggling mentally and emotionally with the stressors of the job. It may be especially difficult for someone who is always helping others to admit they need help themselves. The culture of the fire service is inherently stressful. Sometimes you’re up all night, other days you’ll go an entire shift without having a hot meal, combined with time away from home, especially during holidays, and the constant adrenaline rush, the lights, and sirens, etc. This population is especially vulnerable, as noted by the high rates of high blood pressure, obesity, heart attacks, and cancer. Yet there is a complex that comes along with putting your life up as collateral for another. When I brainstorm for this deliverable, I often think: did I do enough for my fellow co-workers? Did I ask questions when the time was right? I am ashamed that the answer is probably no. Instead, I turned to humor and was never short on witty comments to make light of a situation. But the truth is there are runs that I still picture when I close my eyes. There are intersections that I subconsciously began to ramble about, and my husband always says, “you tell me that every time” as we drive through them.  There is a conference in Raleigh that is a wonderful opportunity for local Chaplains, social workers, and behavioral/mental health providers can go to learn about the uniqueness of treating first responders. We are partnering with the Florian Symposium to help increase attendance for this opportunity by contacting those directly within such positions. Dena, a Captain at Raleigh Fire Department, is our point of contact and called the conference "a once in a career event."

The final deliverable is increasing CPR education throughout the community. This deliverable is especially close to my heart. While all of our topics have the potential to save lives, I can say without a doubt that there are many people alive today because a trained CPR provider was in the right place at the right time. But death can be unexpected and scary. When discussing the reality of sudden cardiac death, it is hard to not to think of your own mortality. I have previously taught CPR at a community college. The difference was the students were interested in learning and already had a basic foundation of the material and the significance. It is challenging to engage strangers in a hands-on, intimidating topic like sudden death. It is even more difficult to get them to remain calm in the situation, especially in the face of a loved one’s cardiac arrest.  Going into sudden cardiac arrest outside of the hospital has a significantly decreased chance of survival. In a rural community, this education is typically more important, as rural response time for trained providers is often longer than the response time of first responders in a larger city. Jeanie and Olu went to the library and formed a great partnership, which has provided us with the opportunity to use the public library space to host two events throughout the semester to teach community members the importance of learning CPR.

The hurricane caused our first event (SAAW) to be rescheduled twice just when I felt like we were gaining some steam. This week, nearly halfway through the semester, I feel like the lines of communication within and between group members have opened up significantly. I feel like we are learning how to collaborate with each other as the semester goes on. I formed bonds with co-workers readily from overcoming stressful situations; perhaps the hurricane had the same effect on Team Prepare.

[freestrangermaker]

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This week, Life Training Online is reviewing Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience, by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the sixteenth of fifty-two books in the 52 Personal Development Books in 52 Weeks series.

Happiness Revisited

Happiness is not found by searching for it — the more you aim at it Mihaly says, the more you are going to miss it. It must ensue, becoming part of the side-effect of one’s own dedication to a cause greater than oneself.

In this chapter, Mihaly discusses what he’s discovered to be the source of happiness. According to him, it’s not something that simply happens, nor is it the result of some good fortune or random chance. It’s also not something that money can buy. In other words, happiness is not dependent upon outside events, but, rather, on how we interpret those events.

Despite many of us believing that these external forces determine our happiness, there are those rare times when, instead of being controlled by anonymous forces, we feel in complete control of our actions. In moments like these, we feel a sense of exhilaration and a deep sense of enjoyment that becomes imprinted in our memory for years to come. This is what Mihaly refers to as “optimal experience” or “flow”, which contrary to common belief, does not come during the calm, passive, relaxing times, but, rather when “our mind is stretched to its limits in a voluntary effort to accomplish something difficult.”

The Anatomy of Consciousness

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In cultures past, it was considered the norm to temper one’s thoughts and feelings. This is not the case in our day in age — where we are told to accept our thoughts as who we are and let our feelings play out how they will. Nowadays, those who attempt to control their thoughts and feelings are considered “uptight” or not quite “with it.” But according to Mihaly, those who take the trouble to gain mastery over their consciousness, live a happier life.

This chapter deals with understanding the workings of consciousness, without which, we would never be able to gain such mastery.

Mihaly explains that at some point in evolution, we humans developed consciousness — the ability to override our instinctual instructions and set our own independent course of action. Unlike other animals, we have developed a “gap” between stimulus and response. It is this gap that allows us to weigh what our senses are telling us and respond accordingly, as well as daydream, tell lies, write poetry, and come up with scientific theories. Most importantly, a person can make himself happy, or miserable, despite what might be happening on the “outside,” just by changing their consciousness.

In an average human’s lifetime, we process about 185 million bits of information — such as sound, visual stimuli, or nuances of emotion or thought. Therefore, the information we allow to enter our consciousness is what ultimately determines the quality and content of our lives. So how does information come into our minds? It’s through the medium of “psychic energy,” or more simply put, the focusing of our attention on that information. The mark of a person who has control over their consciousness is the ability to focus attention at will — oblivious to outside distraction — and concentrate for as long as it takes to achieve a goal, and no longer.

Enjoyment and the Quality of Life

In our culture, wealth, power, and status have become powerful symbols of happiness. When we see those who are rich, famous, or good looking, we automatically assume that they are experiencing a rewarding life. However, as the news headlines often report, wealth, power, or good looks are not always synonyms with happiness. Far too many of these seemingly endowed people are miserable. And why? Because to improve ones life one must improve — not just the quality of their environment — but more importantly the quality of experience.

This is obviously not saying that money, fame, and physical fitness are irrelevant. They are definite blessings, but should not be taken as the answer to our unhappy lives. It’s better to find out how everyday life can be made more satisfying instead of simply dedicated to the pursuit of symbolic goals which in and of itself will not bring true happiness. According to Mihaly, it’s the search for enjoyment, not pleasure, that spawns happiness.

In his research, Mihaly was able to find the common elements that make up any enjoyable activity:

First, the experience usually occurs when we confront tasks we have a chance of completing. Second, we must be able to concentrate on what we are doing. Third and fourth, the concentration is usually possible because the task undertaken has clear goals and provides immediate feedback. Fifth, one acts with a deep but effortless involvement that removes from awareness the worries and frustrations of everyday life. Sixth, enjoyable experiences allow people to exercise a sense of control over their actions. Seventh, concern for the self disappears, yet paradoxically the sense of self emerges stronger after the flow experience is over. Finally, the sense of the duration of time is altered; hours pass by in minutes, and minutes can stretch out to seem like hours.

The key to take out of this, however, is that flow experiences are generally not natural; they demand that you invest an initial effort that at first you may be reluctant to make. But afterwards, as you become engrossed in the activity, and you’re receiving regular feedback from it, the activity will take on a life of its own, becoming rewarding in itself.

Flow is the sixteenth of fifty-two books in Life Training – Online’s series 52 Personal Development Books in 52 Weeks.

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Caroline and Edith: A Brief Intro

I figured I don’t talk enough about the gals so I will do so here because i can’t concentrate and wanted to write about them for like a year

about: the concept of nyo characters and 2p characters is a thing in canon hetalia and the fandoms- i’m not terribly fond of 2p as its been characterized by the fandom (as sort of two dimensional ‘bad’ versions) and have only treated it jokingly thus far, but i have for whatever reason been curious about gender bending/sliding/swapping. I personally like personifications to /mean/ something and not simply give them a different gender, so I personally have thought of nyo and on occasion 2p personifications as different aspects of one city. In the case of ‘fem ed’ and ‘fem cal’, they represent former municipalities that are absorbed into existing ones. Some people do this with their nyo!characters, some people don’t, it’s just a personal preference of mine that I think gives an extra dimension and twist to just popping existing characters into different clothes. Basically, they look similar after having lived together so long (the joke being that to people outside the city they are basically the same thing) and they have a sort of adopted sibling relationship though they are not biologically related. 

and now the gals

fyi i know more off the top of my head about edith because i’m a u of a alumna and grew up on the south side literally on campus so therefore a little biased :^) Do i have interest in creating nyo characters for other alberta ocs? idk - i have a slight interest but idk if i have the time or energy to invest in characters who aren’t as familiar or immediately important. It’s more a development that comes after a lot of research and local knowledge. But anyway, without further ado, here are some facts.

Edith / Fem!Edmonton / Old Strathcona / South Edmonton

History

- once an independent and successful city (Strathcona), joined Edmonton in 1912 for tax benefits. 

- Now exists as Old Strathcona - most well known for being the home of the University and Whyte Ave as well as Rachel Notley’s stronghold - typically the only riding in the province to consistently vote NDP in both provincial and federal elections. Hipster central (though is slowly losing that status to Ed and 124th street on the North side). 

- was given the University of Alberta to compromise between Ed/Cal, but Ed ended up getting it anyway.

- represents the area on the south side of the North Saskatchewan. As a result she has more Blackfoot heritage where Ed has more Cree heritage. Also home to a lot of Metis people who fled Red River. Really sad because Laurent Garneau’s tree just got brought down ToT

- got the railroad that ed was supposed to get because the CPR was too lazy to build a bridge. only some vague bitter feelings between her and ed over this but they’ve gotten over it - ed is making sure to hold on to the old railway tracks Just In Case.

- Fought really hard in the 1970s to keep her heritage buildings and status during a time when the city was ready to tear it all down. Still really rankled by new developments.

Looks/Personality/Interests

- round hips and buff legs, narrow torso, not-quite-flat chest. Basically shaped like a bowling pin if a bowling pin was pointy, or alternatively, shaped like the Strathcona Public Building 

- always has her hair up when not at home, most usually in a bun. Cats eye glasses which she actually does use to see. 

- Younger than Ed but grew up faster than him. Is still taller than him today (but only slightly). Generally more blunt, more fashionable, more open and outspoken politically, and less of a worry wart. Technically closer to Cal in age.

- cat person, tea drinker, and so many tattoos. probably piercings. i haven’t figured it out. seems to manage to eat cake at block 1912 and all the trendy instagrammable foods and drinks every day and yet has no obvious source of income. Seems to disappear into that mysterious door just off Whyte labeled “SECRET LOCATION, DO NOT ENTER” (aka a local brewery’s secret hq a close walk from the old railway station which has since been converted into a beer market). Her personal style is more rockabilly than explicitly hipster- there are a lot of retro dress shops in old Strath + tattoos + leather because Alberta

- volunteers at fringe every year and probably on a first name basis with nathan fillion. fringe/acting is her life. Has an expansive and expressive theatre ability on stage, but off it she’s just kind of ‘meh’ and indifferent and private.

- is at the farmer’s market every saturday, probably selling stuff ed has grown

- lives in an old Edwardian heritage home somewhere in Old Strath, has a fluffy white cat, bikes or takes transit everywhere.  

- likes to weld weird abstract metal... things?

- Likely the one who caused the political Orange Crush for Ed, but could care less about the Orange Crush of the sporting world. Literally could not care less about hockey because of the bad riots they cause on Whyte that keep her up at night - ‘literally no amount of alcohol is going to fix this for either of us, go home’. Her sporting passion is actually basketball and roller derby, but nobody knows that because she doesn’t tell anyone. Doesn’t ride horses, (if she does, it’s English style riding), but really loved betting on them back in the day. Has a lot of FC Edmonton merch and watches soccer games, but gave up on lacrosse when the Rush moved to Saskatchewan and broke her heart. In general, she loathes organized sport and Especially the NHL, but will watch U of A Pandas/Golden Bears games because they are cheap and accessible. 

- sex positive, just not interested in discussing her own sex life or those of people she knows. I tend to think of her as aroace-spectrum (i.e. sex neutral or favourable in certain contexts, not interested in long term romance. No gender preference. Doesn’t like dating people she knows/friends.) She recently started hosting Pride herself and it has been a great success. Only enters adult stores if they are cute and queer friendly.

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

Caroline / Fem!Calgary / Bowness / Northwest Calgary

History

- Used to be part of Cochrane Ranch in the golden age of cattle ranching. Grew up with kind of a southern belle/debutante lifestyle that hasn’t totally left her. 

- Younger than Cal, grew up in the golden age of ranching and in the middle of massive immigration. 

- that is, both she and calvin were raised in ranch houses learning to play croquet and polo and dressing well and having tea and so on and so forth - Caro in some ways moreso than Calvin who had previously grown up in the old NWMP fort as well and knew differently- slightly more about Calgary-the-wild/mild-west-frontier

- The ranch was later divided up into recreational parks and ice skating rinks and golf courses and houses and things - though it wasn’t part of the city, people from Calgary would come up to visit all the time by streetcar as a little mini ‘escape’. Met a lot of famous people during this period, including Fred McCall the ace wartime pilot who would fly her and Cal out to Banff for day trips 

- Joined Calgary in 1964 because the nearby town of Montgomery had already done so, so why not. 

- still has really strong class divides due to the history of the area

Looks / Personality / Interests

- Though she’s sort of a prairie princess in some ways, Caro really embraces the “tough flannel wearing” sort of image of western ladies who would ride all day to get to a dance in another town. She’s still very insistent on presenting herself as feminine and well to do, but she can’t shake the country image no matter how hard she may try to play big city socialite.

- Tall like Calvin, only slightly shorter than him. Freckles, more obvious and more numerous than Calvin’s. Pretty much an hourglassy figure and a little bit busty (c cup because the city’s dumb obsession with cs get it). When I draw her i have that terrible quote from Destroy All Humans stuck in my head i.e. “would you get a load of this brassiere? i could torpedo a uboat with these things!” because I guess I also think of her as a post-war suburban housewife secretly.

- Usually has her hair in a loose side braid but will attempt fancier up-dos for social events. It’s wavy and relatively long, past her shoulders. Pierced ears, likes long dangly earrings and Expensive jewelry. I tend to look at the Library when I draw her - I like the round wheely shapes from its history as an ATV shop and use those as jewelry, so its like Long and Round shapes for her body but she also has a pokey chin/nose/fingers etc like Calvin.

- she tries to keep her fashion sense in that sort of light and airy feminine zone but she still gets all her dresses and blouses from Lammles. Will Absolutely rock the full western jeans and flannel during stampede or on vacation in the mountains, but in the city she tries to keep it more urban and/or professional.

- bigger fan of sports than Edith, Extremely into hockey and is a Serious supporter of the Calgary Inferno. Only wears jerseys on game day, but has one in each colour for each team.

- her political views are slowly ~seeming~ to shift- being a typically right wing conservative stronghold was upset in the 2015 election and she now lives in an NDP riding which is Very Interesting. It was a split between NDP/Cons/WR 5:5:3 so you could argue the right-wing vote outnumbered the left wing 8:5, but it’s still Very Interesting, thanks First Past the Post. Generally like Calvin she is a True Blue Conservative, though she might lean more towards WR and he leans more Liberal (shocker, I know). But I won’t be able to figure out whether she’d be a UCP voter yet so we will have to Wait and See who she hates more xDD  

- that said, like many Albertans and particularly those in urban areas, Caro is fiscally conservative and socially liberal. She does take a longer time to understand issues that don’t obviously affect her and for that reason she is the sort of person to deny the feminist label even though she really aligns with it, but she’s learning. Generally really traditional and embraces femininity and the division of labour between genders, etc. WASPy. 

- generally very no-nonsense and more biting verbally than Calvin, but also very much a romantic. She can be the PTA wine mom of your worst nightmares or the harlequin heroine of your dreams, just try not to get on her bad side. She likes numbers and finances because they are straight forward and say what they mean.

- I’m still divided on where she lives. Calvin is the one with the penthouse downtown, Caroline is the one in the suburbs but she probably still owns ranchland that she likes to supervise even if she doesn’t actually live there. All her horses are named after horses from Heartland or something, probably. Dog person. Hangs out in Edworthy Park to meet dogs, probably.

- literally both the girl in pumps and a pencil skirt who drives a car2go to get groceries and also the girl in rhinestone studded boots who drives a big black truck with a huge pink flowery cursive ‘oil wife’ decal on the back window, or the pink flowery cursive ‘dirty money’ across the top.

- literally to understand caroline-as-socialite pls just watch gavin crawford’s wild west - the oil wife [part one] [part two] i swear to god i cry laughing every time at ‘how about a western theme- how about not’. Everything gets me but especially the passive aggressive ordering-dessert-for-everyone and staring them down until she gets her way. You know what, just watch all of the shorts, it’s a brilliant series.