#lucky live banker for today

[mycryptosuite]

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[situationandmetropolitan]

If you are looking for a guy in finance, don't.

Why is it always the men you didn't even find that attractive ending up hurting you the most?

I am yet again finding myself alone with mascara marks running down my face. The hellish difficulty level of modern day dating as a 30 something year old is a tale that skips like my most overplayed Taylor Swift vinyl record. But unlike one of the most successful billionaire pop sensation, her heartbreaks are sang by millions around the world, while I'm typing alone in this new personal blog; similar to Taylor Swift, I also am lucky enough to be at the company of my cat.

The hero, or shall we say the antagonist, of the story today, is this dashingly successful old-school investment banker, for the sake of the story, we shall just call him Banker, I am too polite to use the W word that would rhyme.

In classic 2024 fashion, I met Banker online. We were both working insane hours, and found comfort in each others' company in the hours past midnight through neverending text exchanges and personal stories. Our first date happened on a whim. I had just finished bowling and dinner with a group of friends, didn't want to head home, he had just finished work, so we agreed to meet up at this shabby cocktail bar with very limited drink choices. I remember the first thought I had seeing him in person was he's shorter than I imagined, second thought was huh he's got a disporportionally big head. It was almost a relief to feel I don't find him that physically attractive, without a stable job at the time, I didn't think I had any spare energy for anything more than a casual fling.

The conversation went on and on and on til the bar was closing down, this would be an usual occurance for our dates. We had talked about my dating experience with finance bros, his bad dating experiences back home, my spineless Aussie boss that got me laid off, and my gripe against Australians, for context, Banker is from down south. He would sympathize with my experience, and give me unsolicited, and probably inappropriate geo-cultrual background of different Aussie cities and what people from there are like ('Men from Adelaide are all cowards, they're just like that"). When he walked me home, gentlemanly ('Let me walk you to roughly where you live, I'm not asking you to show me exact location or anything.'), it was already 3 in the morning.

If I'd to be completely honest, I was intrigued but not super impressed. He was nice enough to listen to me, nice enough to pay for the bill, but I couldn't get over how judgemental he was, and, shameful to admit, how short he was, and of course, who can forget, the disporportional big head.

I went out with him again the coming Tuesday because we had already arranged and booked it even before our first date. I had been caught up in 2 very demanding project at the time, but didn't want to cancel because I hated, still do, canceling on people. We met up at this punk themed fushion Japanese restaurant. Right of the bat, I told him I've only got 2 hours because of work, and to my surprise, he even set an alarm for me on his phone.

Again the conversation flowed effortlessly. We people watched a bit and judged a group of strangers together. He was wearing this ridiculously formal suit, juxtaposing my super casual T-shirt and jeans, looked so out of place in the graffiti and sticker covered restaurant, with a full-size harley on display and Blink-182 blasting in the background. He seemded to take it as a mission to get me home in time. I said it's ok I could take a bus, but he insisted to share a taxi with me since it was quicker and he lived on the way. Before he got off the taxi, he handed me some cash to cover the taxi fee, which again, consistant with his old-fashioned gentleman behavior. I even joked, I usually charge more than that, and he giggled.

The third time we went out, would be the first time we kissed. We went to this quaint wine and dine bar, he loves wine. He'd order for the both of us, with my permission of course, and would serve the food on my plate first. I think that gesture might be the first time i felt impressed. In hindsight, it was never him always paying the bill, or his metal Amex card, or his fancy sea view apartment, it was always the small gestures made me felt he was taking care of me, that got me deeply hooked.

On that date, he'd start to share very intimate stories with me, about his family, his upbringing, his dad's unhinged cheating stories, which encouraged me to share my dad's physically abusive tendencies, and his cheatings. Then we'd start talking about politics. I think that was the moment he found himself genuinely attracted to me, I could see it from the most cliched spark in his eyes. He kissed me there with this intense passion, as the restaurant's waiters were burning our skulls with irritated stares, because as stated before, we've overstayed their business hours. As we were heading out, I was fully prepared to grab an uber home and call it a night. But my lightweight wobbly body disagreed with me. So I told him, I know you live close, I really need to lie down, this does not mean I'm sleeping with you, I purely, just need to lie down. So we went to his place, it was this incredible spacious 2 bedroom with open kitchen modern high rise apartment, overlooking the gorgeous skyline and the ocean. But I was too drunk out of my mind to look at any of that, I just saw he's got a playstation 5, and I wanted give it a go.

That night he was respective to my boundary, not with acceptable amount of trying though. It was too much alcohol, or unfamiliar environment, or his heavy breathing, or his cuddling, I didn't sleep at all. Around 6 am in the morning, I decided to take my exhausted body to somewhere I'm guaranteed a sound sleep - the sofa. That was when I noticed his book collection, many, many language variations of 1984 by George Orwell, together with Animal Farm, some classics, and also a poem collection by Keats. It was brand new. I wanted him to see me first thing in the morning, in the soft sunlight, reading poetry, in his oversized tshirt, like a scene straight out of a rom com, so I went to the bathroom to apply some light makeup.

He didn't wake up for at least another 3 hours, and poetry and Keats could start get boring after 3 hours. I had texted him jokingly, 'still asleep, so lazy, how very un investment banker of you'. When he finally woke up and stepped out of his undecorated bare minimum white bedroom, he had this most squished facial expression and simply asked me 'you alright?'. Not very romantic.

That morning, we had coffee together, watched Peep Show together, had takeout McDonald's, he worked a bit, until I had to go meet with my friend. 'I just realized this is the first time I'm seeing you in daylight.' I said, to which he agreed.

I think the anxiety came right after that day. He started to text me less, I'd wait for hours only to get a one sentence, or sometimes even 2 words reply. I'd check with him is everything ok? He'd only say yeah just work being busy. Then my past experiences of people ghosting me started to creep up on me. I'd start to spiral wondering if it was me rejecting sex, if I did anything wrong in the morning, was I not super ladylike chugging down the big mac.

When he still didn't ask me out on Thursday, I panicked. On Friday, I couldn't wait anymore for the other shoe to drop, so I asked him out for dinner on Saturday. To my pleasant surprise, he said yes.

It was this family run French bistro, quite pricy, but the food and drinks definitely matched the price. The joy seeing him walking into the restaurant shocked me, I wasn't expecting to be this happy to see him. It was in that restaurant I learned how particular he was about food ('Escargot needs to be presented in their shells so that I know it's fresh.'). Not surprised, very onbrandly rigid.

That night after dinner, we walked to a 7/11 to grab some lemon ice cream, then walked to the seaside, sat by the bay, next to all the kids and teenagers, old men fishing, families fishing. We saw an old uncle catching squids, the ink dyed the tinest area of the opaque ocean water black, easy to overlook, but I noticed it. Inking is the cephalopod's distress signal, fighting for its life. Perhaps I should've got the message and made a run then and there, but he interupted my octopus stories with kisses by the saltwater, so maybe it was already too late.

On our taxi ride back to his place, he did the Tom putting his hand down for Shiv thing from Succession finale, again, a giant sign that in hinsight I should've caught on, but at that moment, I vividly recall was the first time I felt the butterflies. We slept together that night, he came within like 2 minutes. It was a huge ego boost for me, to know that I've concqured a man that couldn't handle me in bed, to falsely think that I've got him wrapped around my fingers now.

Oh boy was I wrong.

The lack of texting or communication never picked up afterwards like I hoped it would, he never asked me out again like I hoped he would. The more distance there was, the more obsessed I became.

My friend would tell me, as a feminist as you claim yourself to be, if you want to see him, you should have no problem asking him out, which made me question a lot of my self-imposed disapointment. Yeah I am a feminist, a feminist don't wait around for guys to ask me out, a feminist go get what I want, a feminist shall not ponder but ask straightforward questions. And that's what I did. And I am so close to take the lesson of this experience as - feminists don't understand men.

So week after week, I asked him out, I made plans. I got him mini presents from my travels to Shanghai and Tokyo (side bar, I shared the same flight to Tokyo with his dad, which was an invisible string moment overly romanticized by me at the time). We slept together again and again, the sex picked up, one evening, I, eager to prove that I'm a true feminist, even laid all my cards on the table, and asked him to date exclusively, to which he gladly agreed.

But yet again, the lack of texting or communication never picked up afterwards like I hoped it would, he never asked me out again like I hoped he would. The anxiety of him ditching me for someone else, just evovled into the anxiety of him taking me for granted and not care about me at all.

In our 3 months situationship, this anxiety was painfully prominent, but I only brought up with him once. Maybe it's my fear of conflict, or fear of abandonment, or maybe it's me wanting to show I'm 'mature' enough to know I should be able to manange my own emotions, or maybe it's because everytime I'm determined to bring it up in person, I see his somehow-became-charming-to-me disporportionally big head and heavily waxed plastic hair, and all the frustration went away I'm left with nothing but affection. Or maybe it's because I don't know where I'm going in life, so I didn't feel I'm entitled to any voice in this situationship. I don't have a straightforward answer.

Which leads us to the night that changed everything.

2 weeks ago, we met up for wine after his weekly family meal. According to Banker, he was already a bit tipsy. As per usual, we talked a little bit about politics, i laughed at him being so out of touch with real people's real life, living in his above the cloud fancy mansion doing his handsomely paid banking job. Then it happened, he cracked. Prior to that night, he had shared a lot of stories of his life, his family. But that's all there is, stories, things that happend TO him. This time, he shared the things deep down ABOUT him. He told me his mom was having a very difficult time as a single mother with 3 kids, his dad was not around, so from then, he decided to do everything in his power to take care of them, as the man of the family. He went into finance for the money, he told me he felt like his entire goal was to pay off his mother's morgage, then he could die for all he cared. It hit me, at this moment Banker stopped being the banker, he became a fully fleshed out person, with purpose other than capitalism, with a heart bigger and softer than he ever cared to reveal. I never felt closer to him.

The next day, I talked about this with my friend over dinner, we both agreed something had fundementally shifted in this connection, he's showing vulneralbility and trust, you are actually building something substantial together. So later that day, with this exhilarating revelation in mind, I called him. I told him how much I appreciated him sharing this intimate truth, and I find that really attractive, and I felt we're becoming more closer. Then the cold water hit me like the sudden storm on a beach holiday, he said 'I can't remember what I said.' So it wasn't mutual then, he didn't mean to share it with me, it turned out we had completely different experience and takeaway from the same night. The scale has made it's final tip.

After the next two weeks of unreciprocated communication, which entailed leaving me on read for days, ignoring me for days, not having any time to spend with me, I called him again tonight. It was 1 hour and 9 minutes silent tear masked with the most calm monologue from my side, and him paraphrasing the same sentence over and over again: 'I'm sorry, I thought I've made myself really clear, I'm not in the position for anything serious, it's just work. I know comms has been poor from my end, but work is work, I'm not going to change.'

Which leads us to the begining of this story, sitting in my sofa alone with mascara marks running down my face, typing like a maniac on my laptop. All these time I thought I was competing with other women, when it's always been me competing with his work. Perhaps it was his hardwired mission to take care of his family, seeing that as all there is in life, which in return resulted in him neglecting taking care of himself, which resulted in him rejecting my care for him. Or maybe it's an open shut case of trust the man the first time. However to be fair, I trusted him, I was aligned with him, then I changed, I felt, I saw him.

Maybe somewhere there is a more profound lesson in this experience, but at this moment, my key takeaway is for things to remain purely casual, let your other person stay a cutboard cutout, once you see them as a flesh and blood three dimensional human being, you start to get too emotionally attached. Perhaps that's why I'm never a fan of casual relationship and probably will never try again, that is for it to work, it requires a certain level of dehumanization, and that is something I fundementally cannot stomach.

[harmcityherald]

woo boy dem wine coolers. and to think I used to drink fifths of ronrico 191 like water. oh how the mighty have fallen.

that's my one day a year of alcohol. doc would be pissed. about as pissed about my cigars and my prolific cannabis consumption. she usually shakes her head. yeah but Im still here ain't I doc? wasn't supposed to be was I? so yeah I was lit. Im sure a not safe for nunnery got posted along the way somewhere. not that that should be any kind of surprise. Im glad all my kids had a good time. Im so lucky really the way they're turning out. Im proud of all of them for what they are and for what they are not. Im lucky. and for some uncanny reason they listen when I talk. I got some top notch crewmembers. They are going to go out in the world and be something special every one of them. not bankers or money hungry capitalist predators but real well rounded critical thinkers. proof I think that the biggest lesson you can teach any child is to think for themselves and the second lesson is to see the world through a compassionate lens. Those are the big two. then teach them to navigate this confusing red tape society as far as functioning the maze of taxes and budgeting and trying to live in the wage slave nation. and teach them to never stop dreaming. lastly teach them to never stop learning, never stop reading. We are all forever students in this short lived time we have and that the real power is knowledge. anyway they make me proud and I tell them but sometimes I just sit back and smile at them because I remember the toddler who learned that lesson and look at you now, a 21 year old grown young woman and I see her in love and this guy, short on real family and so thankful to be accepted here and I see his love for her and its all I could ever want for her and I know she will guard her heart and I know she will survive because I see my ghost inside her, my lessons. my beautiful little rebellious girl perched on my shoulder everywhere I went. Sometimes I still see her that way. my little angel. The only one I changed my life for. a forever bond. Now she is a grown beauty. alot of times I can't reblog that gorgeous half clad young thing you posted because my brain says christ and a handbag greg shes as young as your granddaughter. so sometimes my brain struggles with that one. and my grandson. Im so proud of him. gainfully employed. driving a forklift. coming home covered in soot from head to toe, just like I used to. Just like my grandfather did to me he was my tool runner. half inch crescent wrench snap snap. wasn't long before he knew each tool and what its for. I know even today these little things help him. and for them all, critical thinking is key. advocate for yourself. boss ain't nothing but another person just like you. always question authority. always be logical though. and pro union always.

good bunch I turned loose on the world. you're welcome.

[ellewords]

gezellig

↳   (adj.) cozy, nice, inviting, pleasant, comfortable; connoting time spent with loved ones or togetherness after a long separation.   ( aka domestic/fun/slice of life moments that live in my head rent free )

fic notes : feat. atsumu, sakusa + gn!reader , post-timeskip, headcanons

from elle ! thinking about them today and being cute and just having fun wt them so here’s that ;-; also atsumu’s is generally me making up for the fact that i have written nothing but angst for him i’m so sorry tsumu i lov u tho

➹  miya a.       + board games

god forbid you play board games with this man, one of the most competitive mfs on the planet. seriously, this man is a nightmare to play with…good luck sweetie

but you do, and every other friday night was strictly game night for the two of you which means he goes home early from practice and you go home as soon as work ended. 

( there was one night osamu came over to play with you guys and they almost killed each other over a round of uno, the two of them are merciless when it comes to stacking +2 and +4 cards rip )

winner gets a week off from doing any of the house chores, so both of you play to w i n

while atsumu genuinely enjoys playing and spending time with you, he also loves seeing the fire in your eyes when you become as competitive as him; will definitely egg you on and push your buttons…literally lives for it.

“this is why ya shouldn’t be banker when we play monopoly. ya take from the bank.”

“…are you accusing me of stealing?”

“i’m just sayin, not sure how you were able to afford boardwalk and park place.”

all you want to do is wipe that smug grin off his face. you have thrown several pillows at him though and he catches them with a smirk every single time

atsumu has thought about being sweet and letting you win a game maybe once, but he threw that thought out the window immediately 

every time atsumu leaves for a long away game, he usually brings back a board game for the two of you to play. he spends the entire trip home on researching strategies on how he could beat you >:(

gets everything from settlers of catan, anomia, and patchwork to snakes and ladders, battlesship, and chess. there is an entire shelf in your shared apartment solely dedicated for tabletop games. 

but sometimes he gets a little too into it and he forgets basic rules smh 

“ha! got ya, babe! that’s checkmate.”

“no, it’s not.”

“yeah, it is! that’s yer king isn’t it?”

“no, it’s not. that’s the queen, tsumu.”

“oh. wait, i’ve been playin wrong—” 

“but speaking of checkmate…”

will endlessly tease you when he wins but becomes the biggest baby when he loses. demands several all or nothing rematches with the smallest pout on his face

it’s okay though. just offer him cuddles and hold him in your arms, he’ll be fine and melt into your embrace

“ya know, if this is the consolation prize, i don’t mind losin’ that often.” he whispers, breath tickling the your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“okay, but you’re still doing the dishes though.”

atsumu groaned, “aw come on, i was tryin’ to be sweet…but ya better enjoy yer week off because yer not gonna be so lucky next time.”

“oh i’m definitely still beating you next time.”

“you’re on, babe.”

➹  sakusa k.         + puzzles

on the other end of the spectrum: while atsumu’s is pure chaos, sakusa’s is pure calm

you know those 2000+ piece puzzles that make up a picture of really pretty landmark? yeah, you two bond over those <3

whenever he’s out of town / country for a game, he buys a puzzle with a popular landmark or tourist destination from that place, one hundred percent the first thing on his agenda outside of volleyball related things; though he has an actual reminder set on his phone to buy a puzzle, he does not need it. sakusa always remembers

the team knows this too, and they live for it. literally the only time they see sakusa being soft, to the point that they insist on buying the puzzles with him so they can witness it.

“omi-omi!” atsumu called out with bokuto and hinata in tow, “bought a puzzle for yn yet?”

“yes. why do you ask?” 

*cue exaggerated groaning from atsumu, bokuto, and hinata*

occasionally calls from the airport / gift shop to see if there’s anything you prefer, he also ends up buying one other thing that reminds him of you or something he thinks you’d like — maybe a keychain or a small plushie :’)

“just get us something that looks easy.”

“yn, all of the puzzles here have over two thousand pieces.”

“oh, then just get whatever you feel like then.”

“okay.”

“love you, i’ll be waiting.”

“i love you too, i’ll be home soon.”

in the distance, coming from behind a display shelf, squealing.

you and sakusa make an entire day out of it, telling everyone you knew beforehand not to bother you the following weekend; it was strictly meant for the two of you to spend time together.

a scented candle is lit up, tea is brewed and placed into your favorite mugs, phones are turned off, the two of you are wearing your most comfortable clothes, music is softly playing in the background; literally the makings of a perfect day for the two of you

both of you are hunched over a table, deciding the best approach to solving the puzzle. sakusa sorts pieces out by color while you focus on finding the edge pieces

there are moments where the two of you converse, catching up on what you’ve missed in the time you’ve been apart. but there are also times when neither of you speak, just focused on the task at hand. it’s okay though, simply being in each other’s presence is enough for the two of you to feel calm and comforted

proven by the small smiles that was on both of your faces for the entire time <3

you bet that sakusa always posts a picture of the completed puzzle all over social media !! he’s very proud of the two of you, okay?  his instagram feed is basically volleyball, you, and puzzles :)

sakusa would eventually end up proposing via a custom made puzzle, this man is a secret dork you can’t tell me otherwise

“ah, finally we’re done. this was a difficult one, omi.”

“yn, don’t you notice the words scattered throughout the picture?”

“what? there are?”  you grin excitedly, looking back at the puzzle you had just completed, “oh! there are..will..you..m—”

you quickly turn to face sakusa only to find him already down on one knee, a soft smile playing on his features, “surprise?” 

—  request something here.

[fiveisnumber1]

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 3850

Warnings: Mild Violence

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

_________________________

Pt 8 - Birthday Cash (part 1)

Sunlight shined through your curtains as the sounds of the city outside you started to wake you. Slowly you sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. When your eyes came into focus you took a look at the calendar you hung beside your bed. The date of it read October 1st, 2002. Today was your birthday. Shooting up from your bed you ran down the stairs of your home into the living room. Standing there were your two parents.

"Happy birthday!" Your parents exclaim

You looked around the room to see balloons and decorations everywhere. Every year, your parents went all out for your birthday. To both of them, your existence was a miracle and they wanted to show how grateful they were to have you. Even when you were small and they knew you wouldn't remember what they had done for your birthday they still went all out. You were their little princess and all they wanted to do was make your day the best it could be. As you looked around the room you saw decorations from wall to wall. There were streamers and balloons as far as the eye could see. You made your way over to your parents who both gave you a big hug. 

"Alright sweetie you sit tight right here and your father and I will be right back!"

Taking a seat on your living room couch you sit and wait for your parents. When they come back into the room you see your mom carrying a cake and your father carrying a box. Your mom places the cake on the living room table and takes a seat to your left side while your dad sits to your right. The two of them sing happy birthday to you and when you have your wish in mind you blow the candles out in one go.

"What did you wish for?" Your dad asks you

"Honey, you know wishes don't come true if you talk about them." Your mom says

"Oh fine, I won't pry." your dad responds "Anyway I've got one of many gifts for you right here. Do you want to open it?"

"Of course!" You reply excitedly

Your dad places the box in your lap and you gently undo the ribbon tied around it. Opening the box you remove the tissue paper and see the gift inside.

"No way! It's exactly what I wanted!" You exclaim

Inside the box was a replica of the diary for The Princess Diaries. The movie came out a little over a year ago and since then you were obsessed. You wanted the diary from that movie specifically because you loved how it needed a locket that fit it perfectly to open it up. 

"Well, you had been talking about the journal ever since you saw the movie. It took a while but we had it custom made for you. It's practically an exact replica except we had it so yours could fit more pages." Your mom explains

"Do you like it?" Your dad asks

"I LOVE IT!" You reply "But where is the locket?"

"Lift up the diary." You mom says

When you lifted the book up you saw not one but two lockets. 

"Why are there two?" You ask

"Well, we wanted to make sure that if you lost the first one you could have a second one handy." Your dad responds

"Keep the second one in a safe place." Your mom says

"I will!" You reply

You knew exactly where you were going to keep the second locket but for now, you spent some time with your family eating cake for breakfast and taking in all the time that your parents had spent to make your day special. When the three of you finished your cake your dad states,

"Your mom and I have one more surprise for you but we need to go to the bank to get it. Go get ready so we can head out." 

Excitedly you run upstairs and get ready. When you finish you eagerly wait for your parents downstairs. Once all of you have everything you need to go, you head out the door and off to the Capital West Bank.

__________________________

Today was October 1st, 2002 but in the Hargreeves household, this day was just like any other. Reginald Hargreeves cared little for birthdays or the acknowledgment that his children were another year older. Like for past birthdays, he merely congratulated them on not passing yet and went on with his day. Unlike Reginald, Grace was much more sympathetic and caring towards the kids and tried to make sure that they all felt special on their birthday. When the children came down from their rooms for breakfast she made sure that each one of them got their favorite thing to eat. She also wished each individual child Happy Birthday as she handed them their plates. This was the routine that occurred every October 1st since they could remember, but this year it would be a little different because the kids knew that later today they would get to celebrate with you. While they kept quiet when their father was at the table, the minute he left the chattering of excitement amongst the six siblings was unstoppable. Each one of them presented their ideas for what they wanted to do for a fun birthday. Diego suggested,

"We should play pin the tail on the donkey but instead it's balloons and we have to pop them with knives!"

"Diego, you would win that one automatically." Allison comments

"And? I want to be a winner on my birthday." He replies with a wide grin

"Well, I want to have a dance party for our birthday!" Allison says

"Oooh, I can get on board with that." Klaus comments

"I want to duet playing happy birthday with (Y/N)." Vanya comments

"And I think it would be fun if we just sit around and talk," Ben says

"Maybe if we're lucky she'll bring over presents and we'll actually get stuff this year!" Luther adds

"What do you want to do for our birthday, Five?" Vanya asks turning the attention to him

"I bet he wants to kiss (Y/N)." Diego interjects making kissy faces at Five "Mwah mwah mwah oh (Y/N) I love you so much!"

"Shut up." Five says looking away from his siblings, heat rising to his face

"You're not denying it." Luther teases

Luther and Diego start to tease their brother more and Klaus starts to sing,

"Five and (Y/N) sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Fi-"

"Ugh! Leave me alone!" Five says grabbing his breakfast and getting up from the table

Five then flashes away to his room. His siblings were so annoying no matter what day it was. Ever since he had accidentally told them about a month ago that he loved you, they relentlessly teased him about it. Well, Diego, Luther, and Klaus did with Allison chiming in here and there. Ben and Vanya were more so supportive and stayed out of his business, which he appreciated. Nevertheless, it was difficult to deal with their incessant teasing. Yes, he loved you and yes, he's thought about kissing you but he couldn't find the courage to go through with it. You were his best friend, his only friend and he didn't want to lose you because he felt a certain way and you didn't. It was a risk he just wasn't willing to take because he couldn't be sure how you felt for him. Five sat down on his bed and angrily munched on his birthday breakfast hoping that soon enough something would happen to make the day more exciting.

__________________________

When you and your family arrived at the Capital West Bank you took a look around. It was very nice looking with high ceilings and a balcony upstairs that worked its way around the main room. Your father approached the counter and you followed. You ignored the conversation your father and the clerk were having and continued to look around. You saw many different people in the bank, some standing around, some going and then some coming in. As you watched a group of men walk in the door you grew suspicious. In your gut, you felt something shifty about them. Cautiously you watched them out of your peripheral to see what they were up to but to not be obvious about it. A bank teller then steps out from behind the counter and walks you over to a set of stairs directing you and your family up them. Bringing you to a back room the teller uses a key to unlock the door. In the room, you see wall to wall safes. Each one looking just as heavily secured as the next. Your father takes a step towards one of them and entered a passcode. When the safe opens in there is an exact replica of Princess Mia's tiara. Your father gently grabs it from the safe and places it on your head.

"A perfect princess tiara for our perfect birthday princess." Your mom comments

As you relish in the sweet moment with your parents you all hear some commotion from downstairs. Your family and the teller head out of the room and watch from the upstairs balcony as chaos breaks loose downstairs. You can hear the screams of other people in the main lobby as the men who you had a bad feeling about pull out some guns and start threatening people. The banker pulls you and your family back into the back room. Quickly your dad takes the tiara off your head and puts it back in the safe before closing it swiftly. The banker that brought you upstairs calls 911 and details the situation going on, but before he can finish talking to the 911 operator a couple of members of the who were in charge of this robbery shoot him. The criminals, uncaring of what they had just done to an innocent life proceeded to make their way over to you and your parents. Your parents get in front of you to put space between you and the criminals but it is useless because they end up forcing you three down on the ground and put duct tape around your wrists. As you're on the ground you give your mother a pleading look but she shakes her head no. You knew that you could use your powers to get you and your family out of this but your mom didn't want you to in fear of people taking you to do experiments. You let out a sigh as the robbers sit the three of you up. One of them sends the others outside to guard the room before turning to your father to interrogate him.

"Now tell me where this tiara is." The criminal commands

This is not how you expected your birthday to go.

__________________________

For the Hargreeves kids, their birthday was going the same as always, which is to say not much excitement was going on. They all separated and started to do their own things but their activities were interrupted when Reginald yelled,

"Children come down to the parlor immediately!" 

All the children made their way down to the parlor as quickly as they could. Standing in an orderly line from 1 to 7 the children look to their father to hear what he has to say.

"You have been training to use your powers for years and now you have been presented the opportunity to go and demonstrate them to the world. The Capital West Bank is under siege by a group of robbers and the patrons inside have been taken as hostages. There has been a standoff with police for about two and a half hours at this point and I intend for you children to finish it. Get out of your pajamas and get in your uniforms, we leave in 10 minutes sharp."

The children run off to their rooms and rush to get ready for their first-ever mission. This was not quite the excitement they were looking for but nonetheless, it was better than nothing. Within 10 minutes' time, all the children were ready to go. Quickly, they made it to the bank. The six children with powers devised a plan to get inside while Vanya stayed with Mr. Hargreeves looking at the scene from afar. All the kids minus Luther make their way into the bank through side entrances trying to not get caught. As nonchalantly as possible Allison walked towards the main part of the bank. As she did so she saw one of the criminals talking on a walkie talkie.

"Hey get them behind the counter," He said to some other robbers using his gun to gesture "Now you've put me in a position where I gotta do something I don't wanna do. SHIT!"

She approaches the man and stands their innocently.

"Hey get back with the others!" The man commands to Allison

"I heard a rumor... Allison replies

"What? What did you say?" The man asks

Allison then leans in towards the man and repeats herself. Putting a hand up to her mouth she says,

"I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot."

Under the command of Allison's power, the man turns to his accomplice and aims the gun at him.

"Hey dude, what the hell?" the other man asks

The man under Allison's power then shoots his friend in the foot before shooting again. The other man falls to the ground and accidentally shoots off rounds from his automatic weapon. The hostages of the bank scream in fear. A crash then comes from the ceiling as a bunch of glass rains down into the bank. Along with the glass is Luther who jumps down into the bank, grabs one of the criminals banging his head against the counter before throwing him out of one of the high windows. Within seconds Diego runs in brandishing his weapons of choice,

"Guns are for sissies, real men throw knives!" He exclaims throwing his knives and redirecting them towards one of the gunmen 

The knives manage to hit the gunman in the shoulder and his heart. After the one gunman got hit by Diego's knives, the man standing next to Allison came out of his trance and ran away from her towards the counter. As the kids and robbers continue to fight chaos continues to ensue throughout the whole building.

__________________________

You and your parents had been in the backroom upstairs for what felt like hours at this point. The man who stood before you kept yelling at your father to tell him where the safe that had your tiara was. Somehow your dad had avoided the question thus far but the criminal was becoming inpatient. The robber was about to speak again when the sound of gunshots rang out from downstairs.

"We're gonna have to move this along. If you're not going to tell me straight up then I'm just going to have to force it out of you!" The robber yells

The robber then grabs you and holds the gun in his hand against your head.

"You should let go of me before something happens." You comment calmly

"Aw, what are you gonna do? Cry?" The man mocks

"You asked for it." You reply

In one swift motion, you phase backward through the man and kick him towards a desk that was in the room. As he falls over it you grab the letter opener and stab the man in the back with it hitting his heart. Undoing your parents' bindings you tell them,

"Stay here."

"But-" Your mom interjects

"STAY HERE" you command them

Within a second's time, you had phased through the door and into the middle of the upstairs hallway. Making yourself visible you use your powers to manifest the tiara in your hand and hold it up.

"Hey!" you yell grabbing the attention of the armed robbers "Looking for this?"

The angry men start to chase you but you turn invisible.

"Where'd she go?" One of them asks

One of the men walks down the hall to see if he can find you. Once the men are on two opposite side of the hall you reappear and taunt,

"If you want this crown you'll have to kill me for it."

The two men turn their guns on you and start to rapidly fire but you use your powers to make them go through you harmlessly and the two men end up killing each other. After you confirm they were incapacitated you hear a voice yell,

"Get back you freaks!"

Looking down from the balcony you see a man standing on top of the bank counter surrounded by Allison, Diego, and Klaus in their academy uniforms. You wonder when they got here but continue watching. the man points his gun at each of them he demands,

"Hey be careful up there buddy," Klaus comments

"Yeah, wouldn't want you to get hurt" Allison chimes

"Get back now!" The criminal demands

Five flashes behind the man so he is sitting criss-cross on the counter.

"Or what?" He asks with a cocky smile

The man turns his attention and gun to Five and starts shooting but Five had flashed away before any bullets could hit him. Flashing behind the man once more he crosses his arms, a serious look on his face. The man on the counter turns to him and starts clicking a stapler at him. Five looks down at the stapler before sarcastically commenting,

"That's one badass stapler."

Immediately after though Five forcefully pushes the man's hand. The stapler hits hard causing a gash in his head and the man to fall off the counter. Your jaw drops and your heart starts to race a little. 

"Damn," you whisper to yourself

Something about him kicking that guys ass was really attractive to you. Forgetting that you were in the middle of fighting one of the robbers grabs you and takes the tiara out of your hand. You phase out of his arms and say,

"Either the crown goes down on the group or you go up in the air."

"You're not getting this back." The man states

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."

And with that you make it so this man's molecules are extremely light and hang him upside down in the air over the lobby of the bank. Freaking out he throws the tiara over the balcony and it lands by your feet. Not part of your plan but you are satisfied nonetheless. You continue to leave the man hanging as you watch your friends downstairs. Outside the vault five of the six children stand in a semi-circle around Ben.

"Do I really have to do this?" Ben asks

"C'mon Ben there are more of them in the vault," Luther says

"I didn't sign up for this," Ben says in a resigned tone

Ben enters the vault and begins to take out the men in their one by one. From across the room the man you were holding yells,

"Put me down!"

The five children left outside the vault switch their attention and see a man dangling upside down in the air. Looking slightly above him they can see you standing on the balcony above.

"I said put me down you crazy bitch!" 

"You got it." You reply with a smirk before making the man's molecules extremely dense

The man rapidly falls down towards the floor of the lobby and impales himself on a flagpole. Five looks up at you an admiring smile on his face and awe in his eyes (even if they were hidden behind a mask). He had never seen someone so beautifully kebob a man. 

"Wow." Five said to himself

The hostages in the bank start to run out of the building screaming. You transport yourself downstairs to the middle of the lobby and watch the bloodbath occur behind the translucent glass of the vault. When it stops you see Ben slowly step out from behind the door and he can be heard saying,

"Can we go home now?"

You see the children walk around the counter to make their way over to you. Even behind their masks, you could see the excitement in their faces especially that of Five. The children approach you but as they do you can see one of the men still alive get up and quickly make their way over to your group. Raising their gun up, they point it in their direction. He could've aimed at any one of you but he pointed his gun at Five. Quickly reacting you yell,

"Five watch out!"

You then transport your molecules so that you are between Five and the gunman. The gunman pulls his trigger but you push his arm up so that the shot hits the ceiling. You wrap your hand around his neck and look him in the eyes. Adrenaline rushing through your veins all you could think about was how this man almost killed the boy you loved. You were about to say something when,

*BANG*

Your entire top part of your body was covered in red. The body of the man falls backward and you see that all that was left was the shoulders down. You blink a couple of times coming to the realization of what you just did. Slowly turning to the group of kids Diego exclaims,

"HOLY SHIT (Y/N), YOU BLEW HIS HEAD OFF! THAT'S SO COOL.”

"Uh, thanks." you comment before gesturing to yourself and adding "Hey Ben, looks like we're twins now.”

You see a smile appear on the face of the boy who didn't want to be here in the first place. He didn't say anything but it brought him comfort to know you were in the same boat as him. You watch as Five opens his mouth to say something but before he can you hear someone screaming your name from above you. Turning around you see your parents. You wave to them from the lobby floor.

"Hi, mom! Hi dad!" You say as if nothing was wrong

You and the Hargreeves kids all watch as your parents rush down the stairs to get to you. When your mom gets to you she crouches down looking all over you for injuries.

"Oh my god (Y/N) are you okay? You're all covered in blood!" She cries

"Don't worry mom, it's not my blood!" You say with a positive attitude

Your mom wails in distress at the sight of her baby covered in someone else's blood.

"Honey, I don't think that was the right answer." You dad comments putting a hand on your mom's shoulder

"Oh uh, well then it is-" You start to say

"No don't finish that sentence, that's not it either." Your dad adds

Your dad helps your distressed mom off the floor and places a hand on your back escorting you all to the door. As the three of you walk he says,

"You know what. We're gonna go home and you're gonna get all that blood off you and then your mom and I are going to lay down for the rest of the day while you do whatever makes you happy for your birthday.”

The six children watch as you make your way out the door with your parents but before you exit you turn to smile at them knowing that you would see them later. As soon as you leave the kids rush out to the front steps so that the public can acknowledge them for the first time. This was the most exciting birthday they had had so far but they all knew it would only get better once you came over to celebrate later.

Tag list: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @eddiomyspaghettio @lady-celeste25 @im-dead-and-hurting @nerdypinupcrystal @cherry-ki-d @anapocalypseinmymind

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 5- Buried Remembrances

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing? Honestly I don’t know how I am doing. I had a massive breakdown just now and my mom is still yelling at me. Everything has just been a mess. So, please ignore any mistakes, and I am really sorry if it is not good. I am just not in the best state of mind rn and if I don’t post it, I will never get it done. Sorry for the ramble and I hope you still enjoy reading whatever this is 💛

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: ~2K

Triggers: Mentions of blood, murder

But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one's life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, They've left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul.

Ethan, Pooja and Alex were stupefied on seeing Mark's condition. He was the jolliest man they have ever known, his happy-go-lucky personality and on-point sense of humour acted as a charm on the surrounding people. This was one of the qualities which made him an amazing doctor because he could relieve patients from their sorrows and pain and make them open up.

But seeing him like this, so broken, so fragile made them realize that a smile sometimes hides a thousand scars behind it.

"Mark, listen to me!! I cannot see you like this. Please calm down. I am damn worried" Alex said, keeping tears at the brink.

"Lex, I love you. You are my strength, my power. Hell, you are my everything. Don't cry. If you cry, I won't be able to tell what I want to. And the pain will again kill me inside." Mark pleaded.

"Okay, I will try to keep as calm as possible. But, promise me, if matters start getting out of hand, you will stop." Alex said.

"Yes, Mark. If someone knows something about painful childhoods that is Ethan and me. So if you can't talk about it, you won't talk about it. We are heck worried about you, man!" Pooja said.

"I Promise. If I feel like having a nervous breakdown, I will stop. But please hear me out. These memories have stayed hidden for so long that now they feel like a burden. I need to get them out."

Then Mark began continuing his story,

"Remember when I told you in the car that I had a brother?"

"Yes, you said that. I suppose your pain was caused by your brother's death?" Ethan asked

"Ha Ha Ha" Mark let out a bitter laughter. "No, that man is not dead. Yes, my pain is caused by my brother but not by his death. By his deeds."

"He was my favourite person in the world. He was my best friend, my study partner, the person who would listen to my endless rambles. He was the only person who understood me and my thoughts. Or, at least that's what I th-th-thought."

Mark paused, face pale. Something was not right.

"Mark, are you alright? MARK!?" Alex exclaimed.

Mark was slowly losing consciousness. He said slowly, "P-P-Please t-t-take m-me-home... I-I c-can't stand b-being here."

The three sprang into action. Ethan helped Mark in the backseat of the car. Alex sat beside him, placing his head on her shoulder. Pooja sat in the passenger seat. Ethan got behind the wheel and drove to their penthouse.

After reaching, they seated Mark and tried to change the topic for him to feel better. The tension cooled down, and Mark felt better.

"You all are the damn best people in the world. I could never imagine anyone to be so concerned for me. Everybody used to see a happy face and think I am fine. But no one understood my pain like you three do." Mark said, gratitude and love shining in his eyes.

"But, I need to complete my tale. Now that I am feeling better and that we are home, I am sure there will be no more troubles."

Mark continued his story.

"Also, did I tell you that my brother was my inspiration to become a doctor? He was the first doctor in our family. When he was in Med school, he used to tell me the things he learnt. He built that interest for medicine in me."

"Wait a sec!" Pooja stopped him abruptly. "Stop me if I am over-stepping, but your brother is a doctor?! But, But-" She couldn't complete the sentence, but everyone understood what she was thinking.

"Baby, we should not jump into conclusions. Let Mark complete." Ethan stopped her from putting out her thoughts.

"Yes, my brother is or at least was a doctor. B-Before he, he..." Mark stuttered.

"Before he was arrested."

The three gasped. Mark's brother, was arrested?!

"Wait what, he was... arrested? But why? " Alex said, surprise in her tone.

"He, he was arrested for prescribing the WRONG DOSES OF MEDICINES TO HIS PATIENTS" Mark shouted, anger boiling and tears welling up in his eyes. "HE FREAKING MURDERED AT LEAST 3 OF HIS PATIENTS BECAUSE HE PRESCRIBED THEM SUPER HIGH DOSES OF THEIR DRUGS" The tears left his eyes.

"A-And he didn't stop there. He tried to k-k-kill our dad. He...He tried to inject a heavy dose of benzodiazepine to our dad." Mark completed. The horror and shock was evident on the other three's faces. Mark's brother, tried... to kill his dad? But why?

"But why in god's name did he ever do that?" Ethan asked.

"No one knows. The police questioned him for days, months, but got no reply. The only thing he used to do was laugh on their faces and tell them that he will get his revenge." Mark said.

"The day he was arrested, since that day he was considered dead by our family. But the news had a devastating effect on our family. Patients called, hurled abuses, threatened to kill. The neighbours threatened to throw us out. With my dad being sick, me and my mom had to bear it all. All this broke her. So once I got into residency, I took my mom and dad out of that horrid place and brought them to NYC with me."

"But their joy lasted less. My mom, she died within six months of transferring. My dad stayed a little longer. T-The last day of my residency was the last day of is life. And you know what were his last words?"

"What?" The other three asked in unison.

"Don't become Miles" Mark says, tears flowing down his eyes. But, as the three observed, a sense of calm spread through his face. As if a weight had been lifted, from his soul.

"So your brother's name was..."

"Miles, yaa."

"Mark, I hope you are feeling better now. Getting that all out, it must have been a hell of a pain." Pooja asked, remembering her painful childhood.

"Yes, it is. God, I needed to do this. Now I am feeling so fresh, so new. I can finally leave those dark times behind me and start leaving a new life." Mark spoke with a flicker of new hope, new life.

All the while, listening to Mark's story, Pooja was thinking about her pain. Her tale, her own story. She saw how calm and peaceful Mark was after getting it all out. Even after trying, she couldn't remember him being this peaceful, anytime before. She realized that today or tomorrow, she had to take it all out. No matter how hard she tried to bury it, it would come out.

"Mark, do you think, you-your brother could do..." Alex asked with a bit of uneasiness.

"Nothing impossible for a man who tried to kill his father. And also, I am damn sure if the card brought us to my childhood neighbourhood, it would lead to his private clinic. Only he had his practice set up there." Mark scoffed.

"We should look into that. But first we need to check on the questions we had written in our notebook. We need to complete the research as soon as possible. Mark, Lex, can you stay here for the night, we could finish it today itself if you two could be here." Ethan said.

"Yaa, we surely can. No, we would love to. You know, whose is a better tension-calmer than me, hmm? I am a humour boss." And with that, old Mark was back.

"Sure, Mark, sure. But maybe the points to the best sarcasm goes to Lex?" Ethan chuckled.

"Ohh, Ramsey. That's what makes me and Walton soulmates." Mark said, trying to pull Alex into a hug.

"Mark, SHUT UP! You know I hate hugs. I hugged you earlier because I was hecking worried. Now, hush!" Alex said, trying to hide a giggle and spectacularly failing

After a few more moments of laughter, the four set to work. They thought they would not find much about their questions on the 'net, but what they read shocked them more and more. As they got the information, they started writing it down below the respective questions.

1. Who is Mr Davis? Why was he targeted?

Richard Davis. 43. Investment banker. Originally pursuing Medicine, later went on to pursue his interest in investment banking.

2nd part: No answer

2. Why did no one from his associations never come to question about him?

No answers

3. Why did the murderer target Pooja and Alex? How does he know them?

No answer. But speculating that the murderer is Miles Danvers.

4. How was the murder committed?

Acute cyanide poisoning. Throat slit afterwards.

5. Addresses.

Address No. 1 checked, the MedMinders Store. Not checked Address 2 but is possibly Miles Danvers's private clinic.

6. MedMinders Drug Store

Checked. Valuable information received.

7. D.I.B.S.15

No Idea.

"So far, so less. We are beautifully lacking on information." Mark remarked.

"Agreed. Agreed. But wasn't this man supposed to be high-profile?" Alex said

"Maybe high-profile with full pockets. Not fame." Pooja said.

Ethan however, did not partake in the discussion. He was busy thinking something.

"Ethan? What are you thinking?" Pooja asked on seeing his furrowed eyebrows."

"I think I might know what D.I.B.S.15 means," Ethan said

"What? I mean, how? That could mean anything" Alex said, visibly surprised.

"No, not anything. I think it means, 'Davis, Investment Banker, Scam 2015" Ethan put out his thoughts.

"D, understood, I.B, understood, but S and 15? How did you deduce them to be scam 2015?" Pooja asked.

"I remember reading about it. It was one of the biggest investment scams ever. And it was speculated that some high-profile investment banker was behind it. But the real culprit was never caught." Ethan laid out his thoughts.

"So, this man is a fish of the deep waters. He is so much more than what we thought." Mark said

"And that also means that if somebody had come to know about it, then he had enough enemies. This mystery is getting tangled with every passing moment." Alex said.

While talking and discussing possible theories, they looked at the clock. 2 at night.

"Oh, dear! We have work tomorrow. God, let's get some sleep, otherwise we will be like living zombies in the halls tomorrow." Pooja said, giggling.

The four tidied up the living room, said their goodnights and went to sleep.

The nightmares began again. Pooja couldn't sleep an ounce. She was too afraid to close her eyes. The memories terrified her.

Enough. No more nightmares. No more suffering. No more sleepless nights. She was tired of feeling so powerless.

"Ethan, Ethan" She gave him a jerk.

"What is it, Poo? Are you okay, is it the nightmares again?" Ethan woke up with a start.

"I need to tell you. All about this. I cannot bear it any more." Pooja said.

"I am all ears, baby. Tell me everything. If this can make you sleep, I am ready to wake all night to listen to you." Ethan said, pulling her in his arms.

Enclosed in his arms, she laid it all in front of him. The way her mother was murdered. The way she was kidnapped when she was only 11. The terror she felt when she was all alone. The horror when she saw the bloody knife. And the heartbreak and pain she felt when it was found out to be her aunt, her mother's sister was behind all it. The disgust that she felt towards her when she revealed her sinister plans, her hunger for money.

At last, everything was out. As if she was free. As if now, there were no troubles in her life. But what happened till now was only the taste of a sinister plan. The actual dish was yet to be served.

PS: If you have come this far, I am truly grateful to you. I just hope to be at a better place the next time and be okay. But I will stop this ramble now and I hope you have a great day ahead💕   

Tags: @bbrandy2002 @kaavyaethanramsey @ohramsey  @hopelessromanticmonie @trrfanaddict @nervoussaladsludgeopera @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019@3riche @chetachisblog @starrystarrytrouble @arcticrivers @aylaramseycarrera @drariellevalentine @mvalentine​ @aestheticartsx​@angela8754​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @ao719​ @choicesstan1 @nikki-2406​ @neotericthemis​ @openheartfanfics​ @choicesficwriterscreations​

[ohkate]

debt ceiling/shutdown

For those of you who don't know or care what's going on in the US- although you should because this has a trickle down affect- republicans are seriously considering not raising the debt ceiling. This is a major deal and a default would be catastrophic for our economy. I'm a banker in real life and while I know I'm not an economist and I could be wrong about the education I've gotten on this subject, I can't tell you how scary this is to me. The reasons they want to do this are, once again, to benefit the rich.

Every few years there's a short debate on whether or not to raise the debt ceiling because republicans think it's about not allowing the blackies, chicks and the homos to increase the debt in our country with their wasteful social programs, but that is such a myopic view of what this would mean. This isn't a matter of liberal politics. Default would mean that payments to some social programs would be at risk, yes, but so are mandatory payments to account holders such as payments to U.S. bondholders. CD's and bank accounts earning even the little bit you're making now would be gone. Loan interest rates could skyrocket. The housing market could crash because your home's worth could tank. The US dollar would be worth less which devalues our monetary system. The ultra rich wouldn't necessarily be affected by these things, but they will pass on the affects they do have to you. So expect goods and services to become more expensive.

Normally an appropriations bill is reached and it causes a short term government shutdown which is an interruption in services but it's temporary. And while raising the debt ceiling has its own issues and affects on our dollar, it's more complex than simply cutting off the 'hand-outs'.

We're talking veteran's care, social security for the elderly (so your 80 year old gramma can't exactly go back to work and now she's going to starve to death if she doesn't have any accumulated savings. But that's okay because when she needs to go to the hospital, she won't be able to because she won't have Medicare anymore, either). Environmental and food inspections services! Air traffic controllers! The IRS! If you work for a government service, you won't be paid. The last time they had a shutdown - temporary mind you- TSA agents and any non-essential government employee was sent home or simply went unpaid until they quit. Want to verify your social security number and get a passport or any kind of government ID? Too bad. Hope your ID is up to date or else you won't be able to drive without it so good luck getting to work. Or getting a job-- employers won't be able to verify people based on their social security numbers because the SSA could be shut down.

A government default could be disastrous. And if that wasn't enough, China owns over 15% of our debt. Let that just sink in. I recommend anyone who lives in this country to please do a little research on this and find out for yourselves why this is something you should be making time to know about. This is a huge deal and on the top of every news site i've been to today, it's not the first, second or third story down... it's buried. The top story is a social influencer who died. The second is Kendall Jenner's birthday getaway. The third, if your lucky, is a blurb about the DOW dropping the biggest single drop since May and it's because we're even having the conversation about this actually happening.

The issue is more important than just watching a clip of a tv show, but The Newsroom had a whole arc about this issue that was very interesting a few years back and since I know most people aren't going to bother reading up (and have the attention spans of a gnat), maybe I can get people interested in learning more by watching this.

[mycryptosuite]

Our Free Banker On LUCKY-G For 04/07/2023

Our Free Banker On LUCKY-G For 04/07/2023 Our free banker on LUCKY-G – Ghana LuckyG Banker to Banker challenge with plan in the comments section below One Banker only, Lucky-g live 2sure for today. 2-Sure lotto numbers for lucky-g – 3 direct lotto numbers for today and the two sure lotto number for today lucky-g with the best two sure and banker for Lucky draw on 02 August 2022. Forecast for…

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {2}

Summary: Ethan wakes up to a whole new set of challenges with his soulmate, but he had no idea just how deep the trouble she would get into would be. With a medieval infection in the hospital, Ethan only thinks of her.

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, swearing, medical descriptions of things some might find nauseating, infectious disease

Word count: 5.3k

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is! 

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

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Pistanthrophobia - fear of trusting others

Waking up alone is the last thing Ethan expected, but to wake up alone and nearly five hours later was definitely unbelievable. Not a single page? Not one of his interns fucked up so badly that they paged him thousands of times? Maybe he misjudged this generation after all?

"Nah", Ethan mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he pulled himself up to sit. Rubbing his cheeks, he tried to stop himself from smiling, to stop the warm feeling in his chest where she laid atop him but he couldn't. Even if she left before he had woke, Ethan was happy with their progress, although leaving him in bed alone seemed to have become her memo.

Dragging himself out to get a cup of coffee during this tireless double shift, Ethan wondered if she'd be waiting for him close by or if she was feeling better after losing her first patient, but he found himself disappointed when he couldn't find a single trace of her. His phone vibrated and even if he wanted anything but to pick up the call, the only person he knew was persistent enough to wait for the last ring was his brother and he always picked up Grayson's calls.

"What do you want?" Ethan grumbled, slipping a few coins into the vending machine for that cup of coffee he was dying for, not in the mood to speak but he thought it might be important.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Grayson chuckled, waiting to hear his brother groan or growl on the other line and he didn't have to wait for long.

"Just wondering if you misplaced something? Or someone?" Grayson teased as if he didn't know his brother isn't a morning person and he was definitely not in the mood for games.

"What are you talking about?" Ethan frowned, grabbing his cup eagerly as it fills up.

"Just heard one of your interns ask for a transfer and they told her no, but she seemed adamant that the cardio resident she's assigned to isn't right for her education here." Grayson licked his lips, aware he's pulling at the right strings because even if he never saw the elusive Y/N, he felt like her description matched the girl Ethan told him about a year ago, his instincts screamed it was her, and he was quite unhappy with his brother's lack of sharing for he would have expected at least a text from Ethan about his soulmate being his intern.

"What was her name? Did you hear that?" Ethan cleared his throat, pursing his lips nervously because he really fucking hoped the progress he thought he made wasn't just erased. Did he scare her off?

"Y/N Y/L/N. Your soulmate?" Grayson clarified and Ethan leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. He managed to fuck it up, he just didn't know how.

"Did she see you?" Ethan asked, gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip, annoyed with himself because it seems as if every step he takes toward her, she takes two back.

"Nope, but I did tell the nurse I'll take your interns over for the day. They should see the miracle of life before they see death. Thank me later." Ending the conversation, Grayson moved to meet the interns at the changing rooms, eager to meet the little Miss who drove his brother up the wall. In a way, Grayson was fascinated by this woman who seems to disappear like a ghost every time Ethan was near and he didn't understand why she was fighting this unmovable force of nature.

"So, uh, I heard you killed a guy on your first day." Cocky intern leaned into Y/N who was just trying to tie her shoes and get on with the day. Escaping Ethan's arms wasn't easy, especially when he seems to have a death grip in his sleep. But she had to go, to leave and find a way to switch mentors before she fell for him, the guy who clearly wasn't falling for her.

"I'm Brett and I like girls who get their hands dirty." His cheshire grin made her sick to her stomach because as attractive as he is with his pale blue eyes and blonde hair, she had absolutely nothing but disgust for him.

"Leave her alone, asshole. She doesn't care who you are." The only other female intern spoke up and Y/N chuckled lowly, nodding in agreement.

"I'm Alex." The blonde settled beside her, shooing Brett away with her hand until he rolled his eyes and left to get dressed.

"Y/N. Thanks for getting rid of the fleas." Y/N leaned back on the wall as Alex laughed and Brett turned back just to make an annoyed grimace at the two.

"So, how was the boss yesterday? Was it easy working with a hot genius like him? Did you have sex in the on call room?" Alex whisper shouted in excitement and Y/N's face fell, realizing Alex won't be the friend she hoped she would be a moment ago. She just wanted gossip.

"He's a talented surgeon and a good teacher. As for the rest, this isn't Grey's anatomy, on call rooms are for rest not sex." But before she has a chance to get up, someone walks in - authoritative and eager; way too eager with his pink scrubs.

"Good morning. My name is Grayson Dolan and I am to be your boss man for the day." The moment Y/N looked at him, her heart stopped. There are too many similarities between Grayson and Ethan and she was realizing one irrefutable fact.

"There's two of you?!" The words escaped her and she slapped a hand over her mouth as quickly as possible, just not fast enough to stop herself from becoming an embarrassment.

The left corner of Grayson's lips curled up, forming a smirk as he turned his attention to Y/N, taking a good look of what destiny had chosen for his twin and he knew she was trouble even without Ethan's complaints about his torn up heart. She looked like she was made for heartbreak but also the loveliest nights.

"My brother and I may wear the same face but there are very few similarities between us which I'm sure you will learn in time." Grayson winked, before turning his eyes to the rest of the room. "You all will. After all, we will be seeing each other weekly from now on. One of you will be mine for a week until you have your OBGYN hours filled."

Swallowing thickly, Y/N looked away nervously as she fidgeted with her stethoscope. She felt warm, as if her body forgot to regulate her temperature and she could hardly breathe.

'Did it get hot in here? Or is this guy's sunshine personality setting every room aflame?' She wondered silently, thinking how as awkward as it was around Ethan, at least he didn't force conversations and he didn't seem like the overly curious type that pries into people's lives as Grayson does. He looks like the kind of a person people go to in order to feel better, for his warmth and cheerfulness to transfer onto them - he was the definition of sunshine, a cure for dark and depressing people and Y/N was certainly one of them. But she didn't want a cure and she didn't want him to meddle. For the first time ever, Y/N wanted to spend time with Ethan, in the comfort he gave because he didn't force happy onto her and she felt safe in feeling what she feels, knowing she didn't have to adjust, to change. It was the first time she hoped for Ethan, but it wouldn't be the last time.

And lucky for her, he showed up right on time, just as she started losing her shit.

Fingers snapped in front of her face and Y/N gasped, blinking fast as her eyes refocused on identical twins that stood before her. "Hey! Are you listening to any of this?" Grayson questioned with a slight smile, genuinely entertained by her and her dreamer personality because he was sure it would both annoy and compliment Ethan's personality. Ethan is a dreamer too, but never at work and that would surely be a challenge for the pair.

"Um. Missed the few last minutes. Probably should get a cup of coffee." She raised her eyebrows, trying to seem convincing because she didn't want to be unprofessional but she also didn't want to piss off two of her teachers.

"Well, let me sum it up. You're in the pit today, page me if you find any pregnant women in need of a consult or any cardio patients. That's when you -" Stopping him mid-sentence, Ethan jumped in. "That's when you page me."

With a nod, Y/N pressed her lips together and pushed her hands into the front pockets of her lab coat, hoping they would just stop staring at her so intently, as if they're expecting something of her and she can't understand what that is.

"Got it."

She rushed out of there faster than humanly possible, needing room to breathe because for whatever reason, the Dolan twins made it impossible to draw in a proper breath during that short interaction.

Expecting insanity in the ER, she had managed to eat a granola bar before heading into a rather calm emergency room. Using the chance, she introduced herself to the staff, learned the proper numbering of beds and trauma rooms and a few hours in, she finally got a proper case.

"I'm doctor Y/L/N." She smiled, gathering information from the patient while doing a checkup.

"So you're an exterminator?" She kept her voice airy, her tone pleasant as she noted the man has a fewer, complains of chills, muscle aches, diarrhea, cough and fatigue.

'Likely the flu', she presumed.

"For the last thirty years. Used to be a banker, a painter and a writer in my three hundred years." Hearing that sparked jealousy in her heart. She shouldn't be jealous about other people managing to do all they wanted to in their long lives, but she was. She had plans of her own and they seem unlikely with her current soulmate situation.

"Sounds like quite an adventurous life." She smiled, checking for swollen lymph nodes. Finding quite swollen, tender but firm lymph nodes, Y/N frowned, cold sweat forming at the back of her neck as the man coughed. Managing to turn her head to the side, she grasped for a facemask and placed it for protection as she prayed. Caution is always better than reckless endangerment.

'Surely it can't be...'

"Is everything alright?" The man questioned, startled by the sudden change in her stance and the odd look in her eye.

"Can you please take your socks off?" She asked, hoping it won't be what she thinks it is because that would be just her luck.

However, the moment this man took his socks off, he took a few fingers off in the process and no matter how many times she had read about gangrene, she still wasn't prepared to see it up close and personal. The foul smell of rotting flesh made her stomach turn and she struggled to keep her composure. You're supposed to be calm and collected but they don't really prepare you for this in med school.

"Oh, God!" She exclaimed, looking around wildly to figure out what to do.

"Stay calm, sir!" She told him but she seemed more upset than he did. As if he knew it was in such a state, as if he had come in for the gangrene in the first place - the 'by the way' syndrome at its best.

With shaky hands, mask in place, she stumbled to the nurse's station and lowered her voice, careful not to touch anything or anyone.

"I have strong suspicion that we have a case of the Black Death...the pulmonary type, and I've been exposed. Make sure all the patients are isolated just in case and then make sure so am I. I'll take samples for the lab, send them as emergent testing, I'll write a CITO order. And disinfect every inch of this floor." Y/N ordered, her voice shaky as she set herself back to see the patient again, preparing to take samples to confirm her diagnosis. She hoped to God she managed to get that mask on in time, swearing under her breath for being reckless and assuming it's the flu and that she'd be fine. She finally got her immune system up, she finally got her vaccines and she got cocky, thinking she's untouchable and now while everyone else is delivering babies or having once in a lifetime surgeries, she'll be in isolation because she got a patient with a medieval diagnosis. Just her luck.

And while Y/N was being quarantined along with the three patients who had the misfortune of being in at the same time and one nurse that admitted the patient, the entire ER closing for disinfection, Ethan and Grayson were drinking coffee in peace.

"She's definitely a piece of work." Grayson chuckled lowly, raising the cup to his lips casually as if Ethan wasn't snorting at his statement, aware of that fact even without his brother pointing it out.

"Young too. She's a baby surgeon, Ethan." Grayson deadpanned, taking a sip before putting his cup down. Curling his fingers around the cup, he scrunched the plastic cup easily, something he did with every plastic cup he drank from.

"Is there a reason why you're stating all known facts?" Ethan sassed back, sarcastic undertones very clear and matching his annoyed face. While Grayson sat back relaxed, Ethan tapped his fingers on the desk continuously, telling just how difficult Ethan finds the situation at hand. He wanted to know this girl so badly but she didn't seem to share that want. How do you love someone who doesn’t want to be loved?

"Yeah. I'm tryna’ help you bro. She's young, meaning she didn't have a hundred years like you to do her thing first. She didn't have time to be her before being your soulmate. Besides, did you even tell her you're her soulmate? Does she even know it's you? Because if you're not ready to risk your pride and heart for her, why are you expecting it from her?" Grayson raised an eyebrow, waiting for Ethan to open his mouth and say something right, something that would lead him on the path toward her and just as his lips part and the lost look in his eyes fades, Alex, the intern he barely remembered by anything except her being the only other woman with a fancy stethoscope, walked in with news he never wanted to hear.

"Y/N, I mean one of your interns is in quarantine!" She screamed more than spoke, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

"What the fuck do you mean by quarantine?!" Ethan jumped to his feet in an instant, feeling as if a bucket of ice cold water fell on his head and he had never been as wide awake as he is now.

"It's the black death."

Autophobia - fear of being alone

Loneliness had never bothered her before. Accustomed to the lone wolf kind of a life, Y/N had started questioning the unsettling feeling in her chest. After all the time she had spent on her own, she was scared by the coldness inside her that lived within ever since she snuck out of Grant’s apartment where she had left her underwear along with her virginity. That feeling of coldness was gone since he had appeared in her life again and now when she found herself isolated, alone again, she felt the cold grasp at her insides once more and for the first time in her life, Y/N wasn’t prepared to be alone again.

“Hey there. Feeling good?” She didn’t meant to smile when she heard the sound of his voice nor did she mean to let her eyes light up with the sight of his pretty brown eyes on the other side of the glass. She hadn’t expected her heart to jump inside her chest nor did she expect her cheeks to flush considering she’s wearing just a hospital gown and while she managed to hide her ass, she still felt exposed, indecent.

“Yeah. Already started myself on antibiotics before the CDC came in.” She shrugged slightly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she approached the glass slowly, wondering if he’d be proud of her for managing to handle the situation so well. Or as well as it was possible in the moment. She didn’t expect Ethan to be anything but.

“Great!” He exclaimed with a smile that quickly turned sour and her own smile fell, the light in her eyes fading as he started yelling. “NOW I GET TO SCREAM AT YOU FOR BEING SO RECKLESS!”

Pacing left and right, he managed to keep his eyes on her, his hands shaking as he questioned her.

“I’m not sure what the hell you were thinking going to talk to a patient with a flu without a mask or why you were even seeing a flu patient when you’re a surgical intern! Now I’m down an intern and when we said some of you won’t make it till the end of the training, we didn’t mean you should go and recklessly handle patients until you catch a deadly infectious disease!” Throat hoarse, aware of the wandering nurses’ eyes that held judgement and the slightest bit of entertainment, Ethan stopped to take a deep breath and at least try to stop the never ending pounding of his heart and maybe it’s wrong of him to yell at her when she’s in a stressful situation of her own, but she is his soulmate and he barely had the chance to love her and he is scared to death he never will. So yes, he is angry and he is struggling to understand her and the dustiest parts of her soul but it’s beyond him. She’s beyond everything and everyone he has ever met.

“Reckless?” She snorted, folding her arms across her chest, shifting her weight onto her left foot before she too had something to say and while she wasn’t necessarily shouting, she wasn’t quiet either.

“I had my flu shot so I though approaching the flu patient without a mask might be less frightening for the poor man. Also, there was no one else in the ER to see the patient but me! Was I supposed to prolong his suffering when I’m perfectly capable of doing a physical myself? I did what any doctor would and more considering I made a rather remarkably rare diagnosis so quickly that I prevented that man from getting the rest of the hospital staff exposed! You should be proud of me, not pissed off!” Eyebrows knitted together, her eyes narrowed at him and lips pressed together, Y/N stood her ground, refusing to apologize for what she did because she didn’t think she made a mistake. Sure, the mask was a miss, but she would learn from her mistakes…if she gets the chance.

“You page me if she gets symptoms!” Ethan didn’t even spare Y/N a glance as he ordered the nurse and left her alone in that glass room that felt like a prison. He just stormed out, like a man with a paper sword that couldn’t handle losing an argument. For a girl who was all too used to hospitals, she wasn’t quite prepared to go through yet another period of time in a hospital bed.

“Do you need anything else, sweetie”, the nurse asked her, handing her a thoroughly cleaned stuffed animal to hold, her favorite one. A girl of mere ten years facing such a monstrous disease that grew within? It made the nurses cry after every shift. All the kids in the department did, as rare as it was.

“Are my parents coming?” Y/N asked quietly, her voice hoarse. Anyone’s voice would be hoarse after throwing up for five days straight, unable to keep anything down.

“I’m sorry baby, not this week.” The look of pity on the nurse’s face was what Y/N hated the most. She hated being treated like a baby, like a delicate little porcelain doll that couldn’t handle the world. She had faced more in her short life than those who chased immortality. She was very aware of the toxic relationship her parents shared and how they prioritized each other over her. She had learned to accept that.

“That’s fine. At least I have Mr. Cuddles.”

Y/N wished she had Mr. Cuddles now, to just have something or someone to hold. She wished she could relieve the sadness and the annoying sense of abandonment Ethan’s abrupt leaving left her with. She wanted him to stay a while longer for he made her feel lighter without even trying and she hated him for being an ass to her and even more so when he didn’t visit her for the next two days.

Thantophobia – phobia of losing someone you love

However, she didn’t know he was there whenever she was asleep, watching her with a worrisome heart and a tired mind. He knew she was a little troublesome, but he didn’t know she would make that tiny streak of silver hair turn into a full set of grey hair. It’s what he’d be facing in less than a year if her behavior continues as it is.

What he didn’t expect is for her to open her eyes in the middle of the night, finding him on a chair with his head resting on his numb propped up hand. She rolled her eyes at him instantly, pushing herself up with some difficulty before detaching her own IV.

“Scared I’ll die?” She asked groggily, taking a sip of her water to soothe her dry throat. She was definitely starting to feel ill, hating how her body turned weaker and weaker as it did when she was on her treatments. She didn’t want to go back to being the poor girl who sat alone in her room with no family to see her. Making friends with other patients was easy, but they could never touch, never risk getting each other sick. They were social distancing by sitting on opposite beds or coming to each other’s rooms and sitting on a chair by the door when one was too sick to get out of bed. But she didn’t have any patients to make friends with now.

“Yeah. But not from the plague.” Ethan huffed, swallowing before speaking. “Your tests are still being done, will probably be negative but you do have strep, so we’ll have to treat that unless you want to be on my table in about thirty years with faulty heart valves.” Standing, Ethan nodded to the penicillin she had inside her room, hinting it’s better she takes it on her own, although he didn’t mind getting into a hazmat suit if it meant seeing her ass again.

“Great. So if I do have it, I’ll be dealing with two diseases at once. Nice. Nice luck I got here.” Sarcasm dripping with every word she formed, Y/N grabbed the prepared medicine and groaned. She hated getting shots, even more so penicillin ones because they always hurt like a bitch. However, she had a fairly high pain tolerance after everything she’s been through. The nurses used to say when she complained of pain, they immediately called doctors to check up on her because her six was usually a ten on other kids’ pain scale.

Palping, she found the site she’s supposed to stick a needle in. Closing her eyes as she shakes her head, Y/N let out a dry chuckle at the ridiculous situation but she was ready to do it anyway. She didn’t care about Ethan being there, he couldn’t see her ass from where she was standing, but he could see her face. So, she took great care not to make a face when the needle pierced her skin nor when the penicillin started burning, her entire leg feeling like it would give out. Slowly, she injected the medicine, breathing a little shallow but she was proud of herself for remaining calm and collected, even with Ethan there.

“Wow. Actually did it. Impressive, rookie.” Ethan teased, his arms crossed and his face smug. Y/N didn’t like that. “I was sure you’d tap out in the last second. I’m actually surprised you weren’t late giving yourself the medicine like you were on your first day!”

But she wasn’t in the mood for jokes and he missed that.

“Un-fucking-believable! Now?! You want to keep taunting me now? I have no words!” She screamed at him, her hands up in the air in frustration as her nostrils flare and her eyes widen with a new thought. “Oh! Wait! I’m thinking of some! Jerk! Ass! Arrogant! Man-child!” Her throat felt raw and her face hot, but she was ready to fight even if her legs did shake in his presence…or was it her rage? Maybe the infection? She couldn’t tell anymore, especially when he raised his index finger and his face was overtaken with a wide smile and a chuckle followed soon.

“Hold up! Man-child?”

“YES! A fucking man-child!” She repeated herself and that’s when his smile faded and he remembered he’s supposed to be her mentor and this is supposed to be his hospital. Soulmate or not, he couldn’t tolerate this behavior.

“I’d caution you to watch what you say to your boss. You better shut your mouth if the next words coming from you don’t include an apology.” Ethan warned, his hands folded before him and he was no longer Grant as she saw him as most of the time. This was doctor Ethan Dolan, the man she was sure would make her life miserable and while she wanted to keep yelling at him, she couldn’t.

It wasn’t because she had a moment of clarity or because she thought kissing his ass would get her somewhere, figuratively not literally as she had already done that and she knew he had a pineapple on it. No, she felt something different, something she read about but never saw let alone felt. Her throat started closing up and her lungs burned for oxygen she couldn’t provide no matter how hard she tried.

Holding her throat, her eyes wide and bulging, Y/N fell to her knees, unable to hear Ethan who screamed for the nurses from the ringing in her ears that made her deaf to the world. Her face swelled up, her eyes closing and she could no longer see or hear, only feel and she felt herself slipping, falling to the ground, desperately heaving for some air.

Ethan couldn’t wait, couldn’t follow protocol and get himself in a hazmat suit before panic opening the room with his key-card, grabbing the emergency kit as he entered, collapsing on his knees beside her, an adrenaline shot in hand. Administering the adrenaline, bronchodilators, corticosteroids, antihistamines and an oxygen mask, Ethan finally felt like there might be hope as the swelling started to go down and he could hear her breathe again. He had her back on the bed, second line of medication set to drip in her IV.

Shaking uncontrollably, he had stared at every movement her chest made and listened intently to every intake of breath she had made, terrified his worst fear might still come true and he might lose her, rendering him alone for the rest of his life. Sure, Grayson would be insulted with these thoughts of his, but having a soulmate as you age is what life is supposed to be about, not a twin who’d make remarks about every line he gets on his face or how saggy his balls must be getting. She was what his whole life has come down to and hundred more years couldn’t counter the happiness he got to experience in a single night with her. That would never change.

Hours passed and he finally relaxed, not enough to sleep but enough to sit down and breathe.

Exhaling loudly, Ethan looked around for a chair or something to brave the night in, aware he’s now stuck in the room with her for as long as it takes for the tests of her swabs return which would likely take a few more hours at this point. He didn’t regret his actions and he understood why she defended her own so fiercely earlier. It was funny how he understood her soon after every fight they have and they had quite a few squabbles in this double shift – the first of many. She has a breathtaking, wildfire heart and he absolutely loved her for it. He had infinite tenderness for her. He always will. As long as he lives.

“If you get the plague and die, I will kill you.” Grayson threatened from the other side of the glass, his own fear of losing Ethan showing in his deep brown orbs, even more so in the frown he couldn’t hide. And Grayson Dolan was many things, but not a man who frowns easily.

“You can’t make me feel guilty over something I don’t regret.” Ethan shrugged, pressing his lips together before closing the distance between them. The glass stood as a barrier, one that would keep Grayson safe in case Ethan does catch a deadly illness but he had faith it would turn out to be nothing.

“I know. I’d have done the same.” Grayson shrugs sadly, a small smile gracing his lips as he looks over Ethan’s shoulder to see Y/N. “How is she?” He too cared for the girl, too quickly but he did. He saw her as a sister, someone to protect. He saw her as an extension of his brother’s soul.

“Good for now. The allergic reaction stopped but we have her on some meds to make sure it doesn’t enter into the late stage. As for her strep infection, I’ve got her on other meds that won’t kill her so that should be fine too. I expect her to be fully capable of chewing me out in the morning.” Ethan chuckled lowly, turning around to make sure she’s still asleep and while he had no intention on telling her about them just yet, he couldn’t stay away from her. Not ever.

“Why? Did you tell her you’re her soulmate?” Grayson clasped his hands in excitement and he reminded Ethan more of a high school cheerleader than doctor with more than a hundred years of experience under his belt. He loved how positive Grayson is, but he needed to keep his voice down when he’s spilling state secrets, especially when the subject at hand is only a few meters away.

“SHHH!” Ethan whisper-shouted, wishing he was on the other side of the glass to smack his brother over the head and teach him a lesson.

“She doesn’t know and I don’t plan on telling her. She’ll figure it out herself and until then, I want her to know me without the pressure of having a soulmate bond. Bro, I just want her to see we’re made for one another and not run from me every chance she gets.” Ethan rubbed his forehead in frustration, glancing over his shoulder at her stirring figure, unaware she managed to catch a few words the two have spoken about her and while she may be under the influence of more than one drug at the moment, she knew it was important to remember that Ethan and Grayson have both muttered the words she feared most of all – soulmate.

However, moments later for her, minutes for Ethan, she felt a knuckle against her cheek, gently dragging along her skin before the warmth of touch disappeared and she decided she wanted it to last longer, her hand moving on instinct, grasping Ethan’s.

Smiling in the darkness, Ethan settled beside her in a chair, his hand holding hers for dear life.

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Tags: @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12 @fxkthatdairy @zeusgrayson @libradolan @justordinaryjen @pineappledolan @graysavant @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan

(some of you couldn’t be tagged for some reason, probably Tumblr’s fault)

[lawblrwithalcohol]

A Modest Proposal for the Modern World

   It is a melancholy object to those, who walk through this great nation, or travel to others, when they see the streets, the roads, and tenement-doors crowded with gig-workers of all kinds, found in three’s, four’s, or six’s, all in thrift-store-bought clothes, and refreshing LinkedIn every five minutes.  These ... adults, instead of being able to work for their honest livelihood and advance their careers, are forced to employ all their time searching for four hours labor to pay interest on student loans and rent on run down boarding houses, instead of being accountants, designers, speech-writers, historians, and musicians.

   I think it is agreed by all parties, that this prodigious number of underemployed adults is due in no small part to the prodigious number of unintentially old adults, who, through no fault of their own, have lived far beyond what was once believed to be the natural life span of a man, and who, through their own mismanagement, have not the savings or security to retire the field and spectate on the great game that is our magnificent capitalist economy; and therefore whoever could find out a fair, cheap, and easy method of making these old adults give up their postings and leave for the young and hungry the incomes of their posts would deserve to have his statue made of finest stone and his placard inscribed in gold.

   But my intention is very far from being confined to provide only for the old adults still reaping the benefits of their postings for the fifth decade: it is of a much greater extent, and shall take in the whole number of adults past their seventy-third birthday, who now take safety and surety from the young either by holding on to positions of monetary reward or by claiming public benefits for more than one decade.

   As to my own part, having turn my thoughts for many years, in between looking for gigs of my own, upon this important subject, and maturely weighted the several schemes of our projectors, both government and private, both liberal and conservative, I have always found those projections to be grossly mistaken in their conclusions.  It is true, an aged man requires less food, space, and amenities than a young one, but the aged men I see do in fact elect to use more than even three young men!  And I see no harm in allowing a period of years, certainly no more than ten, for a man to relax and enjoy the fruit of his labors while he still has strength of limb to do so.  But it is precisely when this strength fails him, when all his prodigious wealth is turned to pills and potions and prolongings, that I propose he should instead think of how he might contribute to the betterment of society.

   There is likewise another advantage to my scheme, that it will prevent that slow spiral and decay that all fear and which many know as The Long Goodbye: the loss of memory, of fellowship, of freedom that makes of a man a shell of who he once was.

   The sheer number of souls in this land being usually reckoned upwards of 100 million, of these I calculate there may be 15 million so-known aged adults, from whom I would subtract two million as those who live with family and instead of being burdensome instead provide support in the form of cooking, child-care, cleaning, and other non-economic benefits, but this being granted, there will remain 13 million aged adults.  The question therefore is, how this number shall be brought to see the common sense of their retirement, which, as I have already said, under the present situation of affairs, is utterly to blame for the stagnation and infantilization of the young adults of the nation.  For the young can neither gain entry to those fields for which they have been trained nor advance if they were lucky enough to receive an entry level position, often requiring a minimum of five years of relevant experience, without the removal of the top of the hierarchy so that those of middling age may advance and free up postings for the young.

   I am assured by our bankers and economists, that a man of years, but no more than 60, is a valuable worker, a sharp mind, and a driver of the great machine of industry, but that a man beyond that is all too often trapped in his way, antiquated in his approach, and full of rust in his gears.  He does not aid his employer or his field by remaining on the pitch and should instead be sent home to enjoy his last few days on this earth out in the fresh, which is just reward for spending so few of his days before then out of sight of his desk, calendar, and fluorescent-lit office. 

   I shall now therefore humbly propose my own thoughts, which I hope will not be liable to the least objection.

   I have been assured by a very knowing Chinese of my acquaintance in Seattle, that an old, decrepit man, is, at 73 years old, past his prime as a man and in his prime as kindling, his muscles having disappeared and his frame instead filled out with fat, for the fires of our power plants, though of course he must first be humanely put down and drained of all congealing fluid.

   I do therefore humbly offer it to public consideration, that of the 13 million aged adults, already computed, all may be be disposed of by exsanguination and immolation to decrease our reliance upon foreign energy suppliers and reduce the burden on our governmental support structures while increasing the availability of profitable and desirable postings for the young men and women of our nation.

   I have reckoned that a man in this country will weigh 165 pounds upon retirement, most of that muscle and bone, but, if given ten years of leisure, he will weight 225 pounds and most of it will be burnable fat.

   I grant that these men will be somewhat rare in more healthy climes, but those climes are well suited to supplying energy through solar or wind anyway and do not rely upon fuel-burning plants to create electricity.

   The supply of these gentlemen will be guaranteed, as our country has very fine healthcare and is able to ensure that any man of standing is able to live to see 70 at the least, provided the man himself cooperates with his health and is not subject to fast living.  This measure will also have the benefit of freeing our healthcare industry to more readily focus on those great problems faced predominantly by the young, who have no money with which to fund such research today, as opposed to those minor affections endured by the old, such as erectile dysfunction.

   I have already computed the output of such a man’s frame, and have found it to be about the same as three gallons of foreign-bought oil; and I believe no gentleman would object to his own immolation if he knew it meant we would be free of foreign interest and beholden to none other.  Thus our cities will be alight, our young burning with ambition, and our industry steaming along.

   Those who are more lean, as some men become in their age instead of fat, may still take solace in knowing that in joining with all others, they have not failed their country, but instead carried out the finest duty we could ask of them.

   As to the collection of these men, our hospitals and hospices are already equipped for the administering and transportation of them, and our doctors and nurses well know their needs and complaints.  Have no fear, these men shall receive only the finest of treatment as their wick burns down.

   A very worthy person, a true lover of his country, and whose virtues I highly esteem, was lately pleased in discoursing on this matter, to offer a refinement upon my scheme, He said, that many wives of this nation, having lately been discouraged from cooking traditional, Julia Child-esque meals, might find new life and vigor in the knowledge that those meals would be most desirable by the government, and that cookbooks, programs, and community classes on preparing hearty and vigorous meals should be a priority of any scheme that seeks to make use of the old.  I heartily agreed and thanked him for such enlightening advice, and assured him that I would roll out such an addendum the moment my scheme was adopted.

   I have perhaps too long expounded on the potential of this scheme, and therefore shall return the the meat of it: I think the advantages my proposal are obvious and many, as well as of the highest importance.

   First, as has already been observed, it will great reduce the number of underemployed gig-workers as the positions at the top will be emptied, soon to be filled by those in the middle, leaving open the middle for the bottom to grab, and opening the bottom postings for the young and hungry.

   Second, the ramshackle neighborhoods and dilapidated boarding houses will be done away with as those newly employed shall find newly vacated housing units in far nicer neighborhoods, leaving the slumlords to refurbish or demolish their slums.

   Third, whereas it is always good to reduce our dependence on others for power, our use of foreign oil will go down and our global power will go up.  For surely no harm ever came of disentangling ourselves from the business interests of other nations.

   Fourth, the children of the aged will be relieved of the overpowering burden and heartbreak of The Long Goodbye and will instead know the day and time to make their farewells.

   Fifth, the taxes exacted by our government shall decrease as there will no longer be a need to maintain a man’s livelihood for three decades after he is no longer working.

   Many other advantages might be enumerated, should the time be taken to fully explore the ramifications of this proposal, but for brevity’s sake I will not do so here.

   I can think of no one objection, that will possibly be raised against this proposal, unless it should be urged, that a number of people will thereby much lessened in the nation.  This I freely own, but as the population will decrease proportionately across all states, no state shall gain advantage and no seats of Congress will be reapportioned, saving perhaps those of Florida.  

   Therefore I ask that none talk to me of whatever faux destractions they may conjure for my plan, lest they have some other scheme that would do so much good for the nation.  

   I profess in the sincerity of my intentions, that I have not the least personal interest in endeavoring to promote this necessary work, having no other motive than the public good of my country, by advancing trade, providing for the young, reliving our tax burden, and giving some pleasure to those stuck in the middle.  I have no grandparents.  I have no children who would benefit from these measures.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damn this was fun to write!  I claim no copyright, having lifted several sentences and passages from “A Modest Proposal”, but ask only that the internet not burn me at the stake for my attempt at comedy in these trying times.

@charmedatlaw I hope this made you laugh, or at the least, shake your ruefully.

[three-drink-amy]

Sweet Creature

chapter one - chapter two

Chapter Three

Claire rushed into Jamie’s apartment, running a bit late. “I’m here!” she called. Jamie peeked out from his kitchen. “Sorry, I know I said I’d be up in five but then I got a call I had to take.” 

Jamie shrugged. “No worries. Tis just me,” he reminded with a grin. “Is everything alright?” 

Claire settled herself on a stool at his kitchen island. “Yeah. Something just happened at the bakery today.” 

Jamie turned back from the stove to look at her. “Well dinna keep me waiting.” 

Claire chuckled as she walked over and grabbed a bottle off his wine rack. She opened it, pouring both of them a glass. “So a man walked in to the shop today. He said he and his wife live in Edinburgh but come to Glasgow all the time and have fallen in love with my bakery.” 

“Rightfully so,” Jamie offered. 

Claire smiled before continuing. “Basically, they want to bring Sassenach Sweets to Edinburgh.” 

Jamie turned around and gaped at her. “They want ye to expand to a different city?” Claire nodded. “That’s incredible!” 

Claire shrugged. “I guess. I put them in touch with my lawyers. I don’t know what the process would take or even be like.” 

“Ye’ve already opened a second store. The one here,” Jamie reminded. 

“No, I know that. But this is different. I wouldn’t be able to drop in on the day to day like I do here,” Claire explained. “I’m interested in it, I just want to be sure of the details.” 

“Well, while we wait to hear the details, I still think we should celebrate this,” Jamie insisted. 

He turned from the stove and raised his wine glass in the air, fixing her with a meaningful look. With a nod in her direction, she followed suit. “To a brilliant baker, a sublime Sassenach, and a wonderful woman.” 

Claire fought the urge to roll her eyes. “You’re doing too much.” 

He shook his head with a broad grin. “Nah. To one of my favorite people in the entire world, and...” Claire grinned as she realized the next thing he was going to say. “...the best investment I’ve ever made.” He watched her, an intense look in his eye. “I’m so verra proud of ye, Claire.” 

Claire tried hard to fight the tears springing in her eyes. “Thank you,” she choked out before taking a long drink of her wine. Jamie wound around the island and pulled her into a hug. Breaking away after a bit, Claire shook her head. “Okay, you know I’m uncomfortable with praise. Change the subject.” She sat back down with a laugh and Jamie walked back to the stove. “How’s your work going?” 

“Tis fine,” he said with a shrug. “Actually though, there’s an event on Friday. I dinna particularly want to go but I ken they expect me there. How would ye feel about joining me?” he asked, a nervous look on his face. “John should be there as well.” 

Claire watched him for a moment. “Is this just your way of trying to introduce me to Annalise?” 

“Och, no,” Jamie denied. “No, I believe I’m finished wi’ that.” 

“Are you?” Claire asked, her curiosity piqued. “Why’s that?” 

“I just dinna think she’s interested. At first John and I thought she might just be playing hard to get, but I think she’s just genuinely disinterested. The last thing I’d want to do is come off as creepy or rude. So I’m giving up on it,” he explained. 

“Well that’s probably for the best. Don’t want anyone to have an uncomfortable work place.” 

Jamie turned to look at her. “Exactly.” He took down two plates and scooped pasta onto both of them. Putting one down in front of her, he pushed the question again. “So will ye come?” 

She didn’t particularly want to spend her Friday evening with a bunch of nose-in-the-air investment bankers, but she did want to spend it with Jamie. With a shrug, she agreed before taking a bite of her dinner. 

Friday, Claire was putting the finishing touches on her look before meeting Jamie at the party. Her curls were tamed and pinned half back. She wore a red cocktail dress that she knew showed off her best assets. The neckline cut down but not too far as to look indecent for the party. Giving herself another once over, she recognized that she looked damn good. A voice in her head said she was trying to use this look to grab Jamie’s attention now that he’d given up on Annalise. 

Throwing on some reasonably high heels, she grabbed her purse and walked out the door. It may just be a work party for Jamie, but Claire was determined to have a good time. At least he’d asked her to go and not to cater it. 

She parked near the hall where Jamie told her to meet him. Attempting more of a walk and less of a strut, she headed toward Jamie. He was looking down at his phone but glanced up when she called his name. His eyes went wide as he took in her appearance. She wasn’t mad as he looked her up and down. “Damn, Sassenach.” 

“Too much?” she asked, running a hand down her dress. 

Jamie stepped closer to her. “No’ at all. Ye look great! I just...I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve seen ye in anything but jeans and a bakery T-shirt.” 

Claire laughed, throwing her head back. “Way to call me lazy. I guess I ran with the opportunity to look nice for a change.” 

Jamie put his arm around her shoulders, starting to steer her inside. “I’d say ye look more than just nice.” 

Claire smiled up at him, thanking him quietly. As they walked inside, she couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. Maybe it was working. 

They walked in and got drinks, milling around by the bar before Jamie was pulled into any obligatory conversations. They weren’t there five minutes before John spotted them and ran over. “Claire! I didn’t realize you’d be here.” 

“Jamie invited me.” 

“Well yeah, I figured that one out. It’s good to see you,” John commented. “And to see this outfit. You look great!” 

Claire smiled broadly at him. “Well thank you. But you know, it’s only been a few weeks since I last saw you.” 

“Oh yes, I know. My boyfriend is trying to diet and he told me he’d be able to smell sweets on my breath, so I’ve had to stay away,” he explained, looking down sadly. 

“Well the next time he decides to cheat on his diet, I expect a visit.” 

John laughed, grabbing Claire’s arm. “Like I’d go anywhere else!” 

They chatted with John for a while before Jamie and John both begrudgingly decided they needed to go talk to others. Their boss was a hard man to impress and both of them were trying to. Jamie brought Claire along with him, showing her off, throwing conversation topics to her, and also using her as an excuse to get away from others. It worked pretty well. 

Claire was standing at the bar, grabbing another drink for both of them when a woman approached. “Hi,” Claire said. 

“Hello,” the woman replied. From just the one word, Claire could pick up the strong French accent. She must be Annalise. “I haven’t seen you here before. Do you work here?” 

Claire laughed politely. “Oh goodness no. I just came with Jamie Fraser.” 

“Oh, I didn’t realize...” the woman said, a strange look on her face. 

As if he heard his name in conversation, Jamie walked over to Claire’s side. “What’s taking so long wi’ those drinks, Sassenach?” 

She turned to see as he noticed Annalise was there. The one thing Claire hated about Jamie was that he could mask his feelings so well. She could never tell what he was thinking unless he wanted her to. And right now, she was dying to know what he was thinking. “Aha. I see ye met the new hire. Claire, this is Annalise. Annalise, Claire is the one who made all the delicious pastries we had a few weeks back.” 

Annalise’s eyes snapped over to Claire, a look of excitement on her face. “That was you?” she asked. “My goodness, those were delicious! And your croissants! They made me feel like I was back in Paris!” 

“Wow, thank you!” Claire said, laying a hand on her chest. “That means so much.” 

“I’ve been by your bakery a few times since then because it was all too good!” 

“Did you? Which one?” Claire asked. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had met Annalise without realizing it. She was always at the original shop, even if she wasn’t doing the baking or serving herself. When she could get her hands messy, she would, but running the business pulled her away from it sometimes. 

“Oh I believe I went to the one on the east side of town,” the woman replied. 

“Ah, yes, that’s our newer one,” Claire explained. “I was lucky just a couple of years ago to open a second location. I tend to stay near the original location. It’s become my happy place,” Claire told with a smile. 

She had no idea why she was sharing so much with this woman she just met. The same woman who until this week, Claire thought Jamie was still pursuing. Claire glanced over at Jamie to have him help her stop talking. The look he was giving her nearly did the job. He expression radiated pride and admiration. Claire shook her head, looking back at Annalise. “Anyway, you should stop by the original shop. It’s just near the town center. I could maybe throw in a croissant for free.” Claire bit her tongue before she continued. “You know, anything for a friend of Jamie’s.” Claire wrapped her arm around Jamie’s waist. He wasn’t hers and it was wrong to feel possessive of him, but she couldn’t help herself. 

Music began to play louder from the front of the room as the band started to play dancing music. “Claire, would ye care for a dance?” Jamie asked, finishing his whisky. 

Without sparing a glance for the other woman, Claire nodded. “But of course.” 

They walked over to the dance floor and Jamie pulled her close to him, taking one of her hands in his and the other finding her waist. Claire laid her free hand on his shoulder as he started to sway them. “Are ye having a good time?” Jamie asked, glancing down at her. 

Claire looked up and met his blue eyes. “Surprisingly, yes, I am. What was the occasion again?” 

“I dinna ken, honestly,” Jamie said with a chuckle. “They just announce these things and we dinna have much option. I think it’s St. Germain’s way of making us squirm.” 

Claire laughed. “I could see that from him. He’s, uh...an interesting man.” 

Jamie burst out laughing at her statement, his hand tightening on her waist. “That’s an understatement for sure.” 

“Do you ever feel tempted to tell him you could buy your way to his position?” Claire asked in a low voice, her mouth close to his ear. 

Jamie pulled back and looked at her. “I’ll admit the thought has crossed my mind. But no. I dinna want the man to ken that about me.” 

“You don’t think he already knows?” Claire asked. 

“I dinna air it out. If someone looks me up and finds the article, I suppose that’s one thing. But I willna go around waving it about,” Jamie answered. “And I think he’d treat me differently if he kent it. But he doesna.” 

“That seems like sound logic,” Claire admitted. She chuckled to herself. 

“What?” 

“It’s just funny to me that you’re so secretive with the people you know here,” she explained. “You’ve never been that way with me. We just tell each other everything.” 

Jamie grinned, pulling her closer again. “Aye, but that’s just the way it’s always been wi’ us. I wasna that way wi’ Geillis, even when she wasna the devil.” 

“So you’re saying I’m special?” Claire pressed. She didn’t know what had gotten into her that night. 

Jamie glanced down at her, holding her gaze. “Aye, ye are special.” 

The look he was giving her was too intense. She broke eye contact and looked back toward the room. The first thing she noticed was Annalise looking in their direction, pure fury in her eyes. Claire swallowed harshly, unconsciously curling in closer to Jamie. 

But that look from her stayed in Claire’s mind. The rest of the evening, no matter where they were in the room, Claire noticed Annalise watching them. When they chatted with coworkers, refreshed drinks, or danced more, if Claire glanced the woman’s way, she still watched them. And her face still held the same irritation it had before. Claire couldn’t help but wonder if it was jealousy. 

That thought snapped her out of her head and made her glance over at Jamie. He was laughing at something a coworker said. “Jamie, can I speak to you for a moment?” 

Jamie looked over at her, confused and surprised by her request. He sputtered out his agreement and followed her into the hall. “What’s up, Sassenach?” 

Claire stopped, turning on him. She stepped close so she didn’t have to speak loudly. “Did you only bring me here tonight to make Annalise jealous?” 

Jamie started at her. “What?” 

“Just tell me.” 

“Claire, no. Of course not. I told ye I was done trying to win her over,” Jamie insisted. “Why do ye think I’d do that?” 

“I don’t know, because she’s been watching us all night, looking fairly jealous and irritated that you aren’t alone,” Claire informed him. “At least that’s how I read her expression.” 

For a split second, excitement crossed his face before he schooled his expression again. “I promise ye, I’d never do such a thing. Especially not to ye. Ye really think I’d use ye like that?” 

Claire swallowed, taking a step back. “No. Not if I really thought about it.” 

Jamie put his hands on her shoulders, dipping his head slightly to meet her eye level. “I brought ye here because I thought we’d have a good time. I was.” 

Claire looked down at her feet, shame heating her face. “I was too.” 

“Well how about we leave? We can go get those pancakes ye like at that all night diner,” Jamie suggested. 

“We don’t have to leave your work party. You came here for a reason,” Claire replied, feeling guilty for starting this conversation. 

“Nah, I’ve been here plenty long,” Jamie insisted. “Let’s go. Now I’m starting to want pancakes.” 

Jamie didn’t even go back to say goodbye to his coworkers. They grabbed their coats and left the hall. There wasn’t much conversation as Claire drove them to the diner. 

They both ordered a large stack of pancakes once they got there. It started to feel like it had in uni. When either of them were stressed or just needed a break from something, they went to a diner. They were actually sitting in the exact booth they’d sat in when Jamie encouraged Claire to quit med school. 

Claire couldn’t help but worry that she’d shown too much of her hand that evening. Her feelings for Jamie had always been kept close to her chest, never risking that she’d have to acknowledge them. Especially to him. The night she’d told Joe had been a bad night. They’d both tanked important tests and had gotten very drunk. And that’s when she’d blurted her biggest secret. To this day, Joe was the only person she’d ever actually told. Others might have guessed, but he was the only one who knew for certain. 

Thankfully, Jamie didn’t mention anything. He never brought up her accusations and never talked about Annalise. Instead, they just discussed their days, Jamie’s family, Joe, and anything that felt worth talking about. Every so often, the two of them had an evening or an afternoon that felt like recalibrating their friendship. Even when they didn’t know they needed to. That’s what the trip to the diner was in that moment. 

As they got back to their building, Jamie dropped Claire off at her door. “Thanks again for coming wi’ me, Sassenach.” 

Claire stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. “Anytime. You know you only have to ask.” 

Jamie kissed her head before stepping back from her. “And that’s one of the reasons why I love ye.” 

Claire let out a fake laugh before quickly bidding him goodnight. She closed the door and leaned against it, whispering to herself. “I love you, too.”

Next chapter

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The Story They Deserved: William Wyler’s The Best Years of Our Lives by Jill Blake

Throughout World War II, Hollywood cranked out countless feature-length films, animated shorts, radio programs and various government-sanctioned propaganda in support of the war effort. These films ranged from serious dramas set on the frontlines of battle, to lighter romantic comedies featuring servicemen on leave, to glimpses of how families were coping on the homefront. After the war ended in September 1945, it was back to business as usual for Hollywood cranking out splashy musicals, costume dramas and comedies. Of course, there were movies that focused on the post-war experience for Americans—settling down, having children and moving from the big city to the idyllic picket-fenced suburbia—but most of these films either glossed over or completely ignored the struggles of servicemen returning to civilian life, as well as the strain placed on their families, desperate to reclaim years of lost time while remaining hopeful for the future. One Hollywood director understood the importance of telling the stories of these servicemen and their families, drawing upon his own harrowing experiences during the war and his acclimation back to civilian life: William Wyler.

In 1942, months after the United States entered World War II, William Wyler voluntarily joined the United States Army Air Forces, serving as a major in the Army Pictorial Service, which produced educational and propaganda films to promote the war effort. During his service from 1942 to 1945, Wyler and his assembled crew filmed hours of footage from the air, resulting in two documentary films. The first was THE MEMPHIS BELLE: A STORY OF A FLYING FORTRESS (1944), the story of the crew of a Boeing B-17 bomber, which Wyler accompanied on numerous dangerous missions in enemy territory; the second was THUNDERBOLT (1947), a profile of a P-47 fighter squadron. During the filming of both documentaries, Wyler and his film crew faced extremely dangerous conditions, with the director’s cinematographer Harold J. Tannenbaum killed during one perilous mission. While Wyler returned home safely at the end of his service, he did not do so unscathed. During his time with the P-47 squadron in the Mediterranean, Wyler lost consciousness and suffered severe nerve damage in one of his ears, resulting in a total loss of hearing. Eventually, Wyler was able to regain partial hearing with the help of a hearing aid, but the problem affected him for the rest of his life.

Like his fellow Hollywood filmmakers who also served during World War II—John Ford, John Huston, George Stevens and Frank Capra—Wyler wasn’t quite sure how to proceed with his directorial career upon his return. However, it wasn’t long before the perfect project landed in Wyler’s lap: an adaptation of MacKinlay Kantor’s novella Glory for Me, a story of three servicemen returning home after the war and the various struggles they face as they acclimate to civilian life. Produced by Samuel Goldwyn, with an adapted screenplay by Robert E. Sherwood, Kantor’s story became THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (1946)—Wyler’s most personal film and a loving tribute to the men he served alongside during his three years at war, as well as the families those servicemen left behind.

What makes THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES so unique is its unflinching look at the harsh realities faced by returning veterans. These were men whose lives and careers were upended with absolutely no warning; their plans for the future put indefinitely on hold; their jobs and very livelihoods stripped away from them with no promise of return. They were expected to fight, regardless of their civilian professions. In the case of the three servicemen portrayed in THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES, a successful banker is relegated to the frontlines of the Pacific as a sergeant (Fredric March as Al Stephenson); a high school football star finds himself in the belly of a Navy destroyer (real-life veteran Harold Russell as Homer Parrish); and a soda jerk finally finds purpose as a captain for the Army Air Force (Dana Andrews as Fred Derry).

Each man does what he must to not only serve his country, but survive, so as to return home to the lives they had before the war. However, war is cruel, and although they survived, their battles are far from over. The good will and patriotism that was worn on the sleeve of every American has faded as life returns to normal. But what is normal anymore for these men and their families? Are they really expected to pick up exactly where they left off when nothing is truly the same as it was before? Why can’t people understand what they’ve been through?

Wyler carefully explores the journey of these three servicemen as they try to find their place in this new post-war world, amidst dealing with their own personal demons, from self-medicating with alcohol; dealing with horrid PTSD flashbacks with little to no support and certainly no treatment (in an era when this was hardly taken seriously and afflicted veterans were expected to simply “snap out of it”—and is unfortunately still a problem today); and reclaiming some form of independence after serious physical injury.

But it’s not just the veterans’ stories that Wyler tells here. He also empathetically shows the struggles of their families, overjoyed yet guilt-ridden that they are the lucky ones in welcoming their heroes back home, while also silently cursing years of lost time and mourning for the simplicity of life before the war. No other film so delicately balances the patriotic call of duty, its sacrifices and the utter destruction of personal lives like THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES. It’s devastating and emotionally raw, and yet there is hope. These men and their families are strong. William Wyler knew firsthand what these servicemen were made of and he gives them the happy ending they deserve.

[marylorson-blog]

“Rolling Thunder”  excerpted from Signals: a performance memoir 

                                      Featured May 2020 on          Unfictional https://www.kcrw.com/culture/shows/unfictional

I wasn't a bastard but I still felt kind of illegitimate. Dad and Mom had eloped, three months after meeting. My sisters from Mom’s first marriage loved him like mad, but then one day Dad vanished, before I could form a single memory of him. 

I've always wondered why that day was the finale. How do you walk away from a beaming little two-year-old face, one that looks like you?   I was there, but unaware. I want the scene.   

My sisters say: Dad was great.  

Mom says: All you need to know is he walked away. 

Dad said: Mom kicked him out that day, that he crammed his suits and stereo into the Mustang  and rushed to the city for a meeting, paying a kid twenty bucks to guard the car, which was empty anyway when he came back out. 

Later, once I knew him, I asked: “Was there another woman?”  

His answer: “There must have been.”   

THEY BLAMED IT ALL ON ALCOHOL. 

Mom said: infidelity wasn't the only problem; unofficial-seeming “bill collectors” were showing up at the house.  

My sisters said: Dad made life fun, played the piano, adored Mom. But skillets and invectives would fly in the night...and then Dad went missing, with hundreds of thousands of some investor’s dollars. 

By the time my sisters were 8, 10 and 11, they had lost two fathers.    

Mom hadn’t worked since modeling before her first marriage. She borrowed tuition for a full-time secretarial course and sent me to stay with her brother, another charming alcoholic with money problems and a fed-up wife. Mom and the girls stayed behind, in the lovely house on Manor Lane. 

I rejoined them fifteen months and few blocks but a world away, in a garden apartment behind the Country Club. Mom kept the crystal chandelier and her gown from the Kennedy Inaugural, and a suite of heavy furniture that wasn’t made for small rooms. 

Sometime later, Dad called Mom for a friendly chat. He was glad to hear she was in love and admitted that he and his girlfriend had a baby. He asked her to sign some papers for a Tijuana divorce. Sure, Mom said, and I’ll take the trip too. She came back with castanets and a tan. I remember understanding that my parents would never get back together.

I had Dad's nose and hair and musicality, but couldn’t remember a thing about him. Mom said I was lucky I didn't know what I was missing. The older girls talked about their happy chapter with my dad all the time, but I’d wait alone out front for the Mustang that didn't come.  

One day, though, he showed, and this was my own first memory of Dad: Christmastime, Chinatown, and three wrapped presents: a Dancerina doll, a Polaroid Swinger, and a camel hair coat from Saks. The surviving Polaroids show a serious dad and a manically happy me.

Dad promised that now he was going to bring all his kids together regularly. He'd repeat this song on our scattershot dates over the years, but that visit WAS the beginning, of our intermittent, fond, indulgent, dishonest bond.  After that, I lived in obsessive anticipation of the next visit, never knowing when it would be. 

(Band in)

A Dancerina doll, a Polaroid Swinger, and a camel hair coat from Saks. Dad gave me these, and went back to wherever he went.

During Kindergarten: I roomed with Mom, but she was out most nights. The big girls had the other bedroom. I wasn’t allowed in, but from the other side of the door I’d smell and listen attentively. Incense, patchouli, cigarettes, maybe pot? Talking, laughing, singing Joni Mitchell, CSNY...yelling, hitting, screaming, cursing. I swear I could hear the brushing of their long tresses, the swinging of their unhindered double-D breasts...meanwhile people kept mistaking me for a boy.

“You have your father’s thin hair,” Mom complained, so she took me to the barber on the corner, who gave me a buzz cut... and rationalized it this way: “It don't matta if she looks bad now; it mattas what she looks like when she's 18.” Mom thought this was a riot. There was none of this “you're beautiful because you're you” bullshit with Mom. You either looked good, or you didn't. 

THERE IN THE CATHODE LIGHT, NOBODY BEAMED UP BRIGHT                      ENOUGH FOR HER TO LIKE  NOONE TO WALK BESIDE 

YEAH, YOU HARDLY KNEW US                                       

 THAT WAS JUST OUR LIFE/THAT WAS JUST OUR LIFE

Then, In first grade we moved to Carol Avenue, and I almost had another sister!

 Jeanne! Jeanne! Jeanne! Jeanne!....Jeanne!

We had a great time together.

MOM MET HER FATHER AT THE GIANT STEP

A PIANO BAR IN NEW ROCHELLE                                   

SHE'D GOT MY DEADBEAT DAD THE GIG, 

AND HE SHOWED  UP                                                           

WENT DOWN SO SHE COULD GRAB THE TIPS, 

AND LET ADMIRERS BUY HER DRINKS                                  

LED BY THE VERY HANDSOME ED DESONNE

Mom was passionate and needed a rescue; Ed DeSonne was a prosperous investment banker. Both were raising broods of four alone. Ed wasn’t divorced yet, but soon he and Mom got engaged, and we were going to be like the Brady Bunch, with martinis. In the meantime, he was paying the rent on our roomy townhouse on Carol Avenue...

YEAH, IT'S NEVER SIMPLE

BUT WE'LL GIVE IT A TRY; MAYBE BE ALRIGHT

Jeanne too was the youngest of four. She was fearless and funny, and once the parents were married, she would be my roommate. But until then, I had to spend a few more nights with one or another of my unwilling sisters.  One such Saturday, Knockout Diane was supposed to watch me while Shy Karen sister went to a party, but Diane sneaked out. Karen wailed, but Mom had plans with Ed, who arrived in a cloud of aftershave and tapped his shiny toe in the foyer. Mom appeared in glamorous good cheer and ordered me to kiss him. I didn't wanna. 

“Go ahead: give him a little kiss,” Mom said, and Ed reached out gamely, but I wound back and fired a fierce little first-grade kick right into his suited shin. 

Today we'd say I was “acting out.” But back then, everybody just yelled. Then the grownups... went out. And the television...went on.  And then: Ed DeSonne disappeared, changing the channel on a whole other level.

 ED, WE HARDLY KNEW YE…

In first grade you learn to add 2 plus 2. I overheard the word “funeral” and didn’t see Jeanne’s dad for a week; these factors equalled --to me-- that he was dead. When Mom announced it, the big girls wailed like the world was ending. But I just said: “I know.”

I wasn't glad Ed was dead, but I wasn't sad, either. I didn't know how much we lost.         

Mom told everyone the aneurysm happened while Ed was driving; years later she told me the rest of the story.  She also told me that, in her grief, she'd called MY DAD, as a friend, and that he'd sneaked away to be there with her at Ed's funeral.

In the instant it takes for a blood vessel to pop, Mom became bereft, unemployed, and homeless. And our family dispersed like seeds in the wind. 

Diane went to live with her father in the city. The rest of us were taken in by another divorcee with a sun-porch we shared for the nervous, chilly months it took Mom to save up a security deposit.  Karen cried endlessly,  Mom cooing in her ear and breaking Valiums in half.  Fightin’ Joni moved in with her best friend. I got caught standing on our hosts’ kitchen counter in my loafers, stealing cookies from their Charles Chips tin.

But worst of all, Jeanne was sent into foster care.   

I only saw her once again after that, but we’re Facebook friends now. 

While we were staying with the other family, Dad got tickets for the TV show "Wonderama", for me and our host's daughter, and she won the big prize! Our moms picked us up, tipsy on high heels, loading the prizes in the back of a Checker, ignoring candy-starved Moonies in white shirts and dark blazers who tried to sell us carnations.  

(BEAT, then energy back down)

Mom found an apartment. It was in Tuckahoe, so we switched schools. I was in 2nd grade; Joni, 7th; Karen, 9th. I got sent to the principal's office for wearing pants; he showed me a paddle, said next time he'd use it. But maybe it wasn't just the trousers. 

Men landed on the moon. “Evil Ways” was in heavy rotation. And “Spinning Wheel.” Our apartment sat at a dead end by a highway. At night the passing cars projected an abstract slide show on our bedroom wall. In the living room, Mom would light a candle and drink wine. The apartment often smelled of the burned bottom of a saucepan.

That Christmas Eve, Mom fell asleep and the candles burned all the way down, through the tablecloth, and into the nice oak table. I woke up when the fire department arrived. 

YEAH, WE HARDLY KNEW YOU//IT WAS JUST OUR LIFE/THAT WAS JUST OUR LIFE

Karen was 15 and wanted privacy; I was seven and wanted company. One day these opposing desires clashed at a bedroom door, both sides pushing until the big kid won, my middle finger slammed in the door jamb.

The top was hacked completely off. Mom raced me to New Rochelle Hospital, where the surgeon told her to retrieve the tip of my finger or I'd have a stump for the rest of my life. Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Karen tried to flush my finger, along with her shame and horror, down the toilet.

Thanks to low-rent plumbing, my fingertip didn't disappear, and the toilet water even kept it alive. Mom carried it in a baggie back to the surgeon, who successfully reattached it. (Now, there’s a parent's errand.) They kept me in the hospital for a week, because I was hyperactive and the doctor feared I'd bang the stitches open.

It's possible I was on painkillers, because when Dad appeared he was like a dream, swinging down the hall with his great suit and smiling blue eyes.  He'd stopped at the gift shop, and gotten me a dozen long stemmed American Beauty roses and a music box. When you opened it, a ballerina pirouetted to this song: 

OH, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING/ OH, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAY/I'VE GOT A BEAUTIFUL FEELING/EVERYTHING'S GOING MY WAY 

The roses died, of course. I kept that box, though, long after the ballerina broke off and the inside felt was smutty with lipgloss and melted JollyRanchers. Didn’t see Dad again for another 4 years..

[ofphcenixes]

THE PHOENIX || BLUE HAWTHORNE.

ok i won’t lie i stole this intro from veritas 2 kdJKDGF BUT ! if you want to get to know this guy definitely hit the readmore below *shaky eye emoji*. also hi i’m lilac i’m an admin and also a sims enthusiast anyways, back onto what’s important here, this lil bean called red blue !

personality

THANK YOU FOR SUBSCRIBING TO BLUE FACTS. PLEASE TEXT ‘STOPBLUE’ TO CANCEL YOUR SUBSCRIPTION.

but if you have seen blue’s blog sidebar and title, i feel like you will gather a LOT about his personality lmfao

he is playful, jocular, and honestly? immature

always looking for the childhood he never got to have, y’know?

he is secretly very insecure and always has a need to please. if someone doesn’t like him, he’ll tear himself apart to figure out why.

he’s always telling jokes and always laughing. he’s known for his Memes and is always a good time to be around… if you know what i mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

but also Anti-( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) because ya boi has commitment issues so high they’re past the inevitable spaghetti monster that’s probably floating out there in space

he can also be very maternal when the need arises. he is not good at talking about emotions but he’ll give you a meme or a plate of cookies to Heal You

honestly? the human embodiment of a puppy. cannot be alone for very long, has a short attention span, and craves validation lmfao. give him a squeaky toy and he will be Contented

as a footballer he can be Tough on field when he needs to be but he’s also v sensitive and talks to birds he passes on his morning runs like he’s a disney princess djkgfdk

he struggles academically as he has a short attention span most of the time and thinks too little of himself. however, he’s a lot brighter than most people give him credit for. he’s incredibly creative and a lateral thinker. maths makes him want to die, tho.

also what’s money? blue does not know

to many, blue’s known as the troubled kid who turned his life around. to others, he’s known as the local Meme Dealer. but to a lucky few, he’s known as a friend who would do anything for you.

most just know him as the moron named after a colour tho.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

history. (trigger warning: illness, death, drugs, depression)

WHO’S READY FOR SOME CHROMATIC CONTENT

blue hawthorne, who never goes by his birthname bc he hates it dfkjgdgdf ( what is his birthname ? he’ll never tell ┌( ಠ‿ಠ)┘ ) was born right here in ashmont.

despite not having a lot - he grew up with just him and his mum ( his father left before he was born, never knew a thing about him ), in a tiny trailer park on the outskirts of town. a far cry from the opulent manors peppered all throughout town, and the very lifestyle blue’s mother was accustomed to as a child. however, the pair were content as long as they were together.

despite not having much, blue loved every second of his childhood. he wore his mischief like a crown, smiling wherever he went. he’d always resonated with a love of music and dance, and like his mother before him, danced. ballet was his passion growing up, and started as young as 5.

as a child blue was often teased for this, and the fact that he was so close with his mother. he was also very outspoken and strong-willed, and never let his peers get the best of him. he danced, he laughed, he bruised his knees at any given opportunity. what he lacked in possessions he gained in the abundance of joy he felt in his heart growing up. his mother and a few of his close friends were his world.

when blue turned ten, everything changed.

the jubilant, mischievous, but altogether kind-hearted boy was given the heart-breaking news that his mother had been diagnosed with cancer. margarette hawthorne, much like her son, was a fighter - and didn’t let such a diagnosis keep her down. despite their dwindling lack of funds now going towards medical bills, and the fact blue began sacrificing his own childhood as he took to the role of a caretaker of sorts for his mother, he never took his time with her for granted.

things were okay for a while. there was a point where the doctors were convinced that she was going to make it. blue was a fool. blue believed them.

at the age of thirteen, blue lost everything. he lost his place to live, he lost his childhood and lust for life, and he lost the person he loved most in the world. he lost his best friend.

it wasn’t long before the overbearing sympathy from those around him soured blue. he was sick of being bullied, people not liking him, and altogether not being in control. so what did this boy do ? he quit ballet (the thing he’d loved since he was able to stand), he started drinking, he got involved in a very bad crowd and became a frequenter of the local ashmont police station. blue became a certified Bad Boy™

blue was sent to live with the grandparents that despised him and never acknowledged his existence before that moment. righteous and conservative in their views, they had cast aside their daughter when she had blue out of wedlock, and only reached out to her in her final months. for this reason, blue despised these people (he refused to call them family). he tried his best to be appreciative of a house and food ( which was much better than anything he had growing up ). but he was cold. always cold.

as a teenager, blue fell into a rapid succession of bad decisions. still small, still frail in stature, he found himself at a dissonance with his image and began growing insecure about his looks, the years of torment weighing on him. he found anesthetic in the party scene outside of school, taking to alcohol and drugs as a sedative from the life he felt forced to lead. his grandparents were pigeon-holing him into a preppy, studious boy who’d go on to be a banker or a lawyer, when all blue had wanted to do was be himself. he couldn’t decide if he hated himself or he hated the world more.

at the age of 16, his rap sheet seemed to grow with each rising of the sun. he’d fallen in with a bad crowd, hardly ever heading ‘home’ and couch surfed. at the age of 16 he’d gotten his own car and lived more out of that than the stuffy house on top of the hill where he was supposed to stay. his grades were sinking towards the bottom of the barrel, he was always looking for validation from the bad kids he hung around with and made some very poor decisions in the hopes he’d be liked. in the hopes he’d find a new family.

the partying, the stream of hook ups, his criminal record (mainly with traffic offences, a few write ups for public intoxication and fighting), sobriety, the instability of his living situation and his future all came to boil just before he turned 17. physically he’d started to fill out, and look more like the man people know today. he was no longer frail and no longer weak, and when asked, he used to his fists to forge that path he thought he wanted.

after a dark night, it became apparent to blue that his path of self destruction was hurting no one but himself. whether by choice or by accident, he knew he wasn’t ready to see his mother again. so… he’d hit rock bottom with a spectacular thud. but blue knew the only way to go from there was up.

through nothing short than a McMiracle (sponsored by Ronald McDonald, bc no one else is rich enough to pull it off lmfao) blue managed to scrape by and complete high school.

blue had no doubt his family name (that of his grandparents) helped him secure an athletic scholarship to st etienne. in his year of transformation from 17 to 18 his grandmother had softened to the boy she’d always hated and was riddled with guilt for the years of mistreatment, and promised to pay for his education (that wasn’t covered by his scholarship) as long as he promised to make something of himself. his first year of college, things really started looking up for blue. he was finally back on track.

then woops, grim came a-knocking again

bidding farewell to the grandmother he was only beginning to know, his grandfather had no reason to extend her kindnesses, and cut blue off. at the age of 18 he was homeless, with nothing but a car and a handful of pokemon cards he’d had as a kid. not worth anything or even particularly sentimental, he just likes pokemond kgfjfd.

living in his car for a while before eventually crashing with a close friend, blue managed to absorb his days in study and in work. he quickly found his passion in helping kids, and giving them the childhoods that he never got. going into teaching seemed like a no-brainer.

although blue’s wild days are behind him, there are some things locked in his past that still haunt him. there are doors he never hopes to open again. but he got his fresh start, and is determined to live the life a young blue would have wanted for him, and one his mother could be proud of.

then the grim reaper came back a third time, his scythe begging for daisey rutherford.

the investigation.

blue’s connection to daisey is that they danced in ballet classes together… as you can imagine, daisey had to put on her Evil Training Wheels somewhere and unfortunately, blue was one of her earliest victims. teased constantly for his appearance, his love of ballet, his lack of wealth, and on awful days, his single parent household.

for the most part blue had grown resilient in ignoring these comments. but he never forgot how daisey mistreated him, and sparked a wave of similar comments from people in their year when they were only children.

hey now im not gonna rEVEAL (bc what if he is ??? :o ) anything relating to the crime if he was the murderer, but know he is Lorge and Strong and could probably push daisey over with his finger lmfao

it’s also worth noting that one of daisey’s parents, a beloved surgeon, treated blue’s mother whilst she was in hospital with cancer. the late detection of its return is what caused her death, and blue has been vocal in his blame in the rutherford family for the loss of the person closest to him ever since.

now i’m not saying blue did anything… but if he did, his ‘eye for an eye’ motive ? maybe not as crazy as you may think. especially when you consider your boi already has a criminal record. ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

plots.

atm i am still working on blue’s blob and getting his stats/connections page up BUT !! here are a few fun lil plots beyond his skeleton connections that i’d absolutely love to explore. also here’s his current connections page for further ideas ! 

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS  - blue grew up in ashmont, and didn’t have a lot of friends kfgjfd. if your muse would have been down for a Young Memey Mess that’s fond of a pirouette, blue is your Man. on the flip side, if your muse is one of the Cool Kids and is looking for potential animosity, i’d love someone who tried to squash blue like a bug in their youth (~:

FLIRTATIONSHIP - blue is currently in a (hidden) relationship, and for the first time in his life, gasp, might have feelings. but he’s a fucking walnut and refuses to admit that, so a plot of someone with an unrequited crush, a fun flirtationship, or even someone that just wants to be his wingman would not only be fun, but also incredibly painful - which is what we deserve. 8) (also note, blue is bisexual so any muse would work. <3)

COWORKERS - blue works as a trainer at the ashmont fitness centre ( …. dont @ maaria for the page not being done fgjdgkdf  WE ARE IN THE PROCESS OF UPDATING THE PAGES NOW KDFJGDKFJ). but i’d always be down for plots in the workplace !!

UBER - sorry for the lame ass name lmao but dkjfgfkd blue is not about the party scene anymore ( lowkey bc he’s afraid to get addicted again and throw away everything he’s worked so hard for). but he does care a lot about people, and a pal of his is v much still hooked to that lifestyle and he very dkfgjdf determinedly drives them home every time to ensure they’re safe. could be former party friends, could be current friends in some capacity. maybe there was an incident in their past that blue feels guilt over ( a fight perhaps, trigger warning - maybe an overdose?) and so now he looks after them. or even just having a sibling-like bond, which (as blue is an only child) i’d also love something like that!

STUDY BUDDY - blue is a moron and needs someone to help him not fail kdfjgdf. he may not be naturally adept at getting good grades, but unlike many, he’s trying his absolute hardest. in return, he’s more than happy to be your Meme Dealer. bonus points if it’s unlikely friends, or if they didn’t exactly get along at first. :D

FELLOW FOOTBALLERS - 2 bros sitting in a hot tub five feet apart bc they’re not gay. dkjgdgdf but for REAL. exploring the team dynamic of the football team would be so fun, especially with blue’s reputation and the fact he only started taking up the sport when he was about 15-16, which may be a lot later than other guys in the team.

RIVALS - god they’re probably rivals about memes and i hate that but that’s just what it is :/

ok i have nothing else to say other than thank you for being a sweetheart and reading through this ??? i know it was a McMess but, if you’d like to plot with said mcmess definitely hit me up - or wait it out a lil bc i plan to do some starter stuff and plotting later today. (~: love you all, and viva la daisey ! 

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Misery Loves Company part 1

                                         Chapter Three:

                     The One Where Violet’s Invention Works

Lemony Snicket could not believe his ears. There was no way that Arthur Poe was taking those children to Olaf’s. That was never the plan. When Beatrice was pregnant with Violet, she and Lemony always agreed that Violet would be sent off to Montgomery Montgomery if anything were to happen to both of them or Bertrand. Olaf was never a part of that plan. Even when everything in VFD was perfect and fine. Olaf never struck either of them as a parental type. He’d be as good of a father as Esme Squalor would be a good mother, which was very unlikely. Both of these characters from Snicket’s past were narcissistic and only truly cared about themselves when it came down to it. So Lemony knew this was a huge mistake. A mistake he had to fix. But how? He was on the lam after all and anyone who knew of his innocence believed him to be dead.

When he finally made it back home, Violet looked at him questioningly. “Why are you covered in ashes?” she asked looking at his suit.

“Oh, just some on the side investigating,” He half-lied. “Have to pay the bills somehow.”

Violet looked at her father in utter confusion. “What are you investigating?”

“Oh, honey. That’s not important. I’m home I really don’t want to talk about work,” He said trying to desperately change the subject. “So how have you been,”

He hadn’t noticed when he walked in, but Violet’s hair was tied up in her classic red ribbon. “I’ve been working on an invention.”

“Of course and what has my brilliant inventive daughter come up with this time?” he asked smiling. He was always happy to hear about Violet’s inventions.

“Well you see,” she said untying her ribbon allowing her brown locks to fall passed her shoulders. “I’ve combined this old toaster with our grandfather clock...I am trying to get the clock to control the toaster but you see…” Violet knelt down next to the invention and Lemony took a seat on the other side of it. “I’m having a problem with the grandfather clock,”

“Can you show me what the specific issues are?” Lemony asked, “Maybe your old man can help.”

“Of course, Mr. Lemons,” Violet said with a small giggle. She, of course, being fourteen had outgrown her nickname she had given her father when she was just a young girl but she knew how much it made her father happy to hear that his little girl was still his little girl. Violet started up her invention and to the untrained eye, it seemed as though it worked flawlessly like all of her other inventions had. “See? It toasts the bread but the minute hand keeps falling behind five minutes.”

Lemony merely nodded. He was someone with an untrained eye because he hadn’t noticed that. “It...could be a problem with the gears?” he replied, trying his best to be of some assistance to her.

“Well, that would be disappointing. I made them myself,” she replied sighing.

Lemony stood up, “Well maybe you should come back to this one. I know you’ll figure it out kiddo, you always do.”

Violet nodded her head but didn’t look back up at him. She had the stubbornness of her damn mother. She tied up her hair again and went to work trying to determine the issue with her invention. Lemony smiled as he walked to his small desk.

At least she was distracted with an invention, that gave him time to figure out where to start in his quest to figure out what happened to Beatrice and what he could do to help her children. There was no way he was going to sit back and allow Count Olaf to take custody of those kids. Especially when he knew that Olaf hated Beatrice and Bertrand, and him for that matter. Those kids were not safe. He looked over his shoulders and made sure Violet wasn’t watching him as he unfolded the newspaper article and began to cut out the picture of the two kids and the picture of the burnt remains of the Baudelaire home. He made sure to cut out any mention of the word ‘Baudelaire’. He couldn’t let Violet know what had happened to her birth mother. Not yet, at least. He had no idea how to go about telling her that all of his research and investigating had failed them both. He was never able to locate Beatrice and she was living in the same city for who knows how long. He also didn’t want her to learn about the fact that she had two half-siblings, whom she couldn’t help. It was his fault, that they couldn’t help in the best, most sensible way possible. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he had to protect her. There were too many secrets in his past that were better left unsaid. He would one day explain everything just not today. Not any time soon. She was still a child, he wanted her to keep her childhood for as long as she could. Heaven knows, he didn’t get that chance. He remembers being thirteen when he had started his apprenticeship and he remembers his siblings being even younger than that. It was somewhat of a blessing, as well as a curse for everyone he knew to think that he was dead because that meant none of them knew about Violet’s existence, which ultimately meant that at least right now, she was safe.

He tacked the two black and white pictures on the wall in front of his desk and began to jot down notes. He needed intel. He thought about who he could call. Who he could trust with the knowledge that he was alive and well. He refused to mention anything about his daughter. There was no one he trusted with that information, not even his siblings. They were still too involved with VFD. They always had been. Lemony feared they always will be. He, too, at one point in his life was very much into VFD and their rhetoric but so many horrible events in his life changed that. Did he still follow them? Yes. Loosely though. He had to. That way he would know the phrases or codes that would help him detect if someone was VFD or not. Like the storekeeper. The storekeeper had commented that they ‘didn’t realize this was a sad occasion’, Lemony knew, just like any VFD member knew, that the correct response to that statement is ‘the world is quiet here’. But Lemony bolted out of there with Violet before the storekeeper could recognize him.

He thought long and hard. Mr. Poe worked at Mulctuary Money Management...Lemony was sure that there was someone there from VFD in charge of making sure things go according to plan. There had to be. This organization wouldn’t leave their precious future recruits solely in the hands of one of the most incompetent bankers that Lemony had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Lemony took the chance and looked up the number to the bank in the phonebook he found in the drawer of the motel room’s nightstand.

“Mulctuary Money Management. Mr. Poe’s office.” a woman answered.

Lemony didn’t recognize the voice but he hadn’t been in the loop with this organization in nearly fourteen years. He sighed and turned again to Violet to make sure she was tinkering with her invention and not eavesdropping on his conversation. “I didn’t realize this was a sad occasion.” He whispered into the phone.

He could hear the woman gasp and he thought he heard her drop a pen on the floor and scurry under her desk but he could be mistaken. “The world is quiet here,” she replied in a whisper. “May I ask who’s speaking?”

Lemony closed his eyes. “Snicket.”

“Jacques?”

“No.”

“Well, Kit...you sure have mastered the art of sounding like a man. I couldn’t tell it was you at all,” the woman replied.

“No...I am not Kit, either,” he replied still glancing over at Violet.

“Well. You can’t be Lemony. He’s dead.”

“Not as dead as Beatrice,” he replied in a low whisper.

“L-lemony? Is it really you. The Daily Punctilio…” the woman began.

“ The Daily Punctilio is lucky I haven’t decided to sue them for defamation and the only reason I haven’t sued them is that I am on the run.”

“Where have you been all this time?”

Lemony looked again to his daughter. “I’ve been in hiding. But that doesn’t matter right now. That’s not why I called. I called regarding the Baudelaire case.”

“Oh.” the woman replied. Lemony could hear in the background that a man, he assumed to be Mr. Poe since Lemony could hear this same person in a fit of coughing yelling at the woman.

“Jacquelyn! Jacquelyn!” he could hear Mr. Poe call out.

“Now isn’t a very good time, Snicket,” Jacquelyn replied. “Why don’t we meet somewhere and we can have a chit chat about that .”

“Fine with me. Although, you will have to meet on my terms. I am on the run and I can’t afford to get caught. I have...I have too much to lose.” Lemony replied.

“Where will we meet?” Jacquelyn replied as she rolled her eyes when Mr. Poe called out her name again.

“Meet me at the building where this all began.” He said simply. “Tonight. 9 o’clock. Come alone.”

“Got it,” Jacquelyn replied hanging up.

Lemony hung up the phone and was startled to see Violet was now right behind him. “Dear God, sweetie. Are you trying to give your old man a heart attack?”

Violet smiled, “Maybe…”

“Did you get the grandfather clock to work?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s next on the agenda of Miss Violet Snicket?”

Violet shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I was hoping to work on my invention that would help me retrieve a rock that I’ve skipped into the ocean but to do that...we’d have to go to Briny Beach.”

Lemony thought about it. He hated going out in public, especially to places that would be more likely to be crowded. He glanced out the window. It was a dark, cloudy day. Briny Beach was usually desolate on days like this. He looked at Violet who was wearing her famous puppy dog face.

“Please Mr. Lemons,” she asked keeping her puppy dog face in full view. Lemony sighed.

“I can be ready in ten minutes…” He said.

The trip to Briny Beach was a quick one. Lemony was lucky enough to have a taxi cab as a car from his days in VFD. He used this on rare occasions and after the stint in the store, he didn’t want to risk being recognized anywhere else. He also was simply not in the mood for interactions of any sort.

Violet glanced out the car window. “It’s so weird that we have a taxi,”

“I told you, Violet. Your uncle gave it to me a long time ago.”

“I know. I know. After he helped you escape the authorities. So when will I be old enough to know what really happened that day?”

“Hmmm...how old are you now?” Lemony joked as if he didn’t already know the answer to that.

“Fourteen.”

“Maybe when you’re fifteen.” He watched her smile fade. He knew she hated secrets, she hated not knowing things especially things about her parents. “Why do you want to know such a dreadful story anyway? It’s not like it ends happily…”

“Well, if you think about it, it hasn’t ended yet. It can still end happily.”

“Spoken like a true optimist.”

“I’m not an optimist, I’m a realist. Besides, you’re the one who told me that stories don’t truly have a beginning or end. They all interject into each other, new stories begin in other stories and life is just a bunch of stories sewn into one.” Violet stated matter of factly, “and all endings are not real endings just new beginnings to different stories.”

“Trust me. This story doesn’t end happily, Vi.”

“I want to believe it still can. We can find her one day. We can be a happy family.”

Lemony frowned at this. He knew he had to tell her, it just didn’t seem right. She was happy, she was excited about her newest invention and he knew this news would kill her. He just gave her a small smile. “Well, I will say...the story did get happier after a while.”

“Why?” she asked glancing out at the window again.

“I may have lost her...and everything else but I gained the whole world.” He said simply looking at her and not paying attention to the road. Violet smiled at him. “I gained my daughter and sure, it wasn’t due to circumstances that either of us liked but in a way, I do have everything I ever wanted.”

“Except for her,” Violet stated.

“But I have you.” He reiterated. “You know, you remind me so much of her every day, Vi.”

Violet looked down at her locket and opened it up to look at the picture of her birth mother that Lemony had put in the locket for her. The picture was one of Beatrice from one of her stints at the opera house. She wore a gorgeous dragonfly costume and she was smiling holding a bouquet of violets in her hand.

“She named you after her favorite flower and color, you know.”

Violet nodded but kept looking at the picture. “How’s your investigation going? Have you found any new leads?” she asked hopefully not looking up from her locket.

Lemony sighed, keeping his eyes on the road, “Nothing yet. But I am sure some news will come up.”

“I hope so, I wish nothing more to meet her.”

“I know. I wish you could meet her, too.”

“Do you know what I would tell her if I ever have the pleasure of meeting her?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me…” Lemony began.

“I would tell her that I understand...I understand why she had to give me away. I would tell her that I don’t hate her, even if she continued living her life and got married to another man and had other children; I would tell her that I understand...the timing was off.”

Lemony was taken back by what his daughter just said. He had always believed most kids with the upbringing that his daughter had would show some resentment towards the absent parent. It’s not like he wanted her to hate Beatrice, he much rather she is understanding and respectful...it was just quite odd to him. He glanced at his daughter as he began to park the taxi alongside the beach’s entrance. Maybe he didn’t completely fail Violet. Maybe he was doing a good job being a father to her. For her to be this mature at such a young age, he wondered. “That’s...very mature of you, Violet.”

Violet smiled. “Honestly, it would do me no good to hate her. How would we ever have any kind of relationship if I don’t at least meet her halfway.”

As Violet got out of the car and raced down the desolate beach, Lemony trudged slowly behind her. He wanted to cry. He wanted to just break down right then and there in the hot sands of this beach. Violet was so optimistic about meeting her birth mother and unknowing to her, she would never get that opportunity now. It made him feel only a bit better that Violet doesn’t hate Beatrice. But what if she knew the truth? What if she knew about VFD and what he and Beatrice did to fuck up their lives so much? Would her opinion on Beatrice change? Would her opinion on him change? He couldn’t afford that. When it came down to it, Violet was his only family. Unfortunately, for Violet, that sentiment worked both ways. He was her only family...that she knew of. He quickly thought about Beatrice’s other children. He hoped Count Olaf wasn’t harming them in any way. Tonight, he would talk to Jacquelyn and figure this all out. Maybe he would be able to get everything on track...maybe...just maybe.

When he finally reached Violet she was already setting up her picnic basket in the sand and looking around for a rock. He watched as she began to tie up her hair to keep it out of her eyes. “Need any help, hun?”

“No...not yet. Do you know the angle of the prevailing currents?” she asked not looking up at him as she was too busy looking for the right projectile. Lemony merely shrugged. “It’s fine...it’s more important if I can find the right projectile.”

She reached down and grabbed a regular looking grey rock. “Do you think this would work?”

“Hmmm...maybe we should find a rock that’s not sandstone?” Lemony replied.

“Ah-Ha!” Violet cried out as she picked up a smooth disc-shaped rock. She studied it with a puzzled look on her face. “Are these teeth marks?”

Lemony rushed to her and examined the rock himself, he had never seen a rock so smooth and disc-shaped before in his life. He could see what Violet was talking about. The rock did look like it had teeth marks on it but Lemony couldn’t think of what kind of animal or marine life could have made such teeth marks.

“They look human-like,” Violet said still studying the rock, forgetting about her invention.

“Violet...there’s no way a human-made those marks. What kind of human would bite a rock?” Lemony replied laughing.

“I don’t know. A baby with piranha teeth? Maybe?”

“Now, Violet. Doesn’t that seem silly to you? A baby... a human baby with piranha teeth? Honestly, with an imagination like this, you should dabble in writing.”

Violet rolled her eyes. “When I was a baby, I had sharp teeth.”

“Not sharp enough to bite a rock,” Lemony replied laughing.

“I’m still going to say it was a baby with piranha teeth.” She said laughing. “Whoever or whatever it was...I wish I could thank. This is the best projectile for this invention.”

Violet pulled out a small piece of white chalk from her pocket marking the rock with an X. She placed it into her left hand.

“Violet? Why are you using your left hand?”

“I’m curious to see if I can skip the rock further with my left hand than my right.”

“Now, you know I don’t mean to criticize but standard scientific method calls for stable systematics. You should use your right hand.”

Violet laughed but smiled at her father. He was right. She hated when he was right but he had to give him credit. He was paying attention to her attentively as he always had. The attention made her feel special. She knew she was his entire world and he was her entire world but it made her feel special to have a father who not only believed everything she created was the work of a mechanical genius but she had a father who paid very close attention to her and her inventions so much that he even noticed her trying to change which hand she would use to skip the rock. She placed the rock into her right hand, “That does seem sensible,” she replied as she skipped the rock using her right hand. The rock went far into the ocean, skipping about eight times.

“Dad, what was that thing Einstein said?” she asked smiling.

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science.”

“Now, what’s that thing James Brown said?”

He chuckled, “I got something that makes me want to shout. I’ve got something that tells me what it’s all about.”

Violet smiled turning a small knob on her invention and Lemony couldn’t believe his eyes, a mechanical arm rushed out of the picnic basket and extended itself to the far depths of the sea. After a moment, it stopped and the mechanical hand went into the ocean and in mere moments, the hand reappeared above the water holding the same rock that Violet had marked with an X. The mechanical arm reeled itself in after dropping the rock into Violet’s hand. Lemony was purely amazed. Sure he had seen many of Violet’s wonderful inventions throughout the years but she still could surprise and wow him with every new one she showed him.

Violet stood up, her face lit up with a smile. Her father hugged her as they both exclaimed, “I’m super bad!” Violet started laughing.

“It worked!” Violet squealed happily.

“I never expected otherwise, dear,” Lemony replied still hugging his daughter.

Yes. Violet’s invention worked. This would be a perfect time to leave. You can pretend that the rest of the story of Violet Snicket was as happy and wholesome as this day on the beach was. You can pretend that Lemony does get every opportunity to tell her all about his past when she turns fifteen or you can continue reading on and with each turn of the page, with every new chapter, you can weep and wish that you had taken my advice. For you don’t want to know what happens on Violet’s fifteenth birthday. You don’t want to know how she spends the rest of this story as bitter as her father drank his tea. You don’t want to know all the dark secrets that she uncovers and the questions that she never gets answered. You can leave right now. No one will blame you. I wish I would’ve seen this coming and maybe I wouldn’t be as haunted as I am these days. Although this chapter ended happily for Violet Snicket, I reiterate my promise that very few happy things happen in the lives of these three children. Indeed, Violet Snicket doesn’t start to suffer the hardships of her siblings until later on in this tale but that does not mean that her story is filled with happiness. Her story is full of secrets, betrayals, and dark discoveries that I promise you will change her life for the worst. So look away before it is too late.