#then i went to cope w jim
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OH MY GOSH WHUMPEE SETH???? FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. CAN YOU TALK MORE ABOUT THIS CONCEPT? ~🐸
ok so in bbe (bloodbag el) el gets taken by kane right. @whumpsday and i went several different directions w this. and one is that seth ends up w anton. and then it branches off to one where anton keeps him forever, and one where anton gives him to ruby as a gift and he gets himself either graham or jim as a replacement.
seth is miserable w anton. absolutely fucked and ruined. anton keeps him in a shock collar and seth is TERRIFIED of being electrocuted. its an easy way to keep him in line :) anton breaks him.
in the version where he gets gifted to ruby, ruby treats him way kinder - kind of as a little lapdog. seth is pretty and she loves dressing him in cute outfits and posting him on her insta :)
also seth takes up... a coping mechanism... see one time, anton makes him dress up as a kitty bc of a drabble he posted on his blog. no not a drabble, an answer, where an anon said theyd wanna make him into a kitty and he replied "i'll shove that bell down ur throat." in bbe, anton gets el to show him seth's blog, so he sees the ask-
seth gets threatened into doing a kitty impression for anton, who just sends it to ruby bc she looooves it. but then... then seth kind of gets attached to the cat persona. the cat helps him detach. whenever shit goes DOWN, like RLY BAD, he goes full kitty mode, panicked mewling and all :) kitty seth... thats how broken he is in this au :) its not him being hurt, its the stupid kitty :))
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My Villians of 2023
Most Football (Soccer) fans - include two Bayern trolls, Leeds United troll and Arsenal fan Youtuber. They a**holes. Even some Man United fans want their rivals to win treble, rivals won't do the same. Also people compare women football to mens.
Manchester City - stealing/buying/coping glory and their manager is an a**hole and owner are alien.
Tottenham Hotspurs- Wanted Kane at Manchester United, but not sure he be any help or United be differently.
Bayern Munich- They never give up on Kane and where they got the money from.
Kim Mae-Jim- Best defender in the World? how? Manchester United try get him twice, guess cos United not what they were and now we never get any great players.
Most football players- I feel they money hunting w*****, making football a waste of time.
Football (soccer) - I lost interest in it, it's getting frusrated, depress and I don't understand it. Not football I'm into now. Anything of it, I now hate it.
Just Stop Oil- They are taking the p***, annoying thing they did is they enter Nartual History Muesum and throw powders at a dinosur bones, they are p***ing anyone off, specially ruin the thearter play.
Police- Some are useless againist Just Stop Oil, Islam Exremists,and climate and trouble makers. Also that female cop in Yorkshire who went after disable boy who say something that anger her and also did something unlawful. Some police go after uncrime. And stupid things like go after British or Christians. And they things of hurt feelings
Woman who put a dog in a middle of the floor in the Underground tude and also it busy.
Some Security before Big Ben Tour- There woman who order some guys to order us leave our vest coat, and double check in a room, it was scared, upset and eliimated. It didn't ruin my Big Ben Tour and my love for Big Ben but that high sceurity is upsetting, My brother notice we stare at I just don't look as their be suspuses and awakard.
A user at Star Wars Forum- He a f***ing a**hole
A user at Anime-Planet- Is a troll give me a negative comment and then being age-ish saying hating middle age people and say out expire on the site. B****.
Hamas
Palestain Protesters and Hamas Supporters
Leftiest
GB News - Not defend Laurence Fox by sacking him then sack Calvin Robinson, They scared of leftests and OfCom. And this ville woman Ava Evans. They had some lefty/annoying presenters and guests, There attack on Trump. they no different to any other news. They losing support. If Laurence Fox a woman it be different, double standard. As for Dan Wootton, there many things I disagree with him like he defend a lefty guest and defend Amber Herd. Still watch one or two videos but if they closed down, I won't mind. They lost my support, if they don't care they better.
TalkTV- Same with GB News, they feel sorry for ville woman and she act so innocent victim, and there presenters critics Fox for saying something about a woman., what if woman said same thing about a man. There also lefty presenters and guest. And there Piers Morgan, he's a p****. Some parts of good to see. Got banned for a week for some comments in some videos.
Ava Evans- Ville Woman, hate men and playing Victim.
Sharon Osbourne- cry over Ava, what if Laurence Fox is woman or woman said thing about woman, what will she think?
A troll at Youtube- That p**** repond to my comment about my critics about GB News then give this 'told you so' c***, Then see his other comment, reply to a comment where make excuse for Ava and not bother about her comment and then attack Laurence. What a p****.
Vegan/Animal Activists - They getting more pathetic, include Vegan Booty/Tash and Joey.
Owen Jones
Trump Dounters
Most Politicans (UK and USA) - Torys, Labour, Green, Democrat, Republican
Sadiq Khan
Republican candidates (Apart from Vivek Ramaswamy and Donald Trump)
Strikers and Unions - It reason they need what they neeed but it gone too far, did worry it ruin my holiday but it didn't happen.
Most People in Genshin Impact fandom, specially LGBT- Nothing against them it just they say some characters are LGBT and call you homophilic and attack. Specially idiots on Genshin Impact fandom Wiki site. There annoying Youtuber (E) made Video Genshin Impact is a Queer game, since when. I be okay if just Bissexual.
Two idiots at Dark Spyro-Spyro & Skylander fansite- Site dead but still active. There some idiots who hate Spyro, if they not Skylanders fan.
Idiots who think British things like flags, countryside, etc are racists and colonialist.
David Kurten - Agreeing on GB News sacking Laurence Fox Made think different of Heritage Party.
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i was gonna go 2 sleep but a song came on in ths speedpaint video n it just inspired me 2 recreate my entire first ever oc
the story is essentially the same but a little less fantasy n more cowboys. still fantasy w elves just also weird western vibes. also instead of main character being 10 year old orphan trying 2 find her Origin™ shes like 35-40 years old and trying 2 piece together what she remembers of her childhood
and instead of the fantasy world being a real kinda alternate reality, its just a fuckd up dreamscape she kinda falls into thats eerily reminiscent of the stories she made up as a child. all of this is triggered by her recieving news abt the death of her father, news recieved at an awkward time since she ends up in a car accident just a few seconds later. epic coma moments! epic brain trauma moments!! she has no choice but to sit in hwr dream hell and confront her emotional baggage! she knows its a dream so shes not rlly,, compliant at first but eh ebic fantasy therapt is ebic fantasy therapy
a good mix of rlly fun n whimsical fantasy nd just super bummer reality mixed into a sad but like fun carnival. carnival that is exciting but also u just wanna lay down n cry into a jar of nutella
#kinda based off an experience i had where i used 2 have dreams abt this massive treehouse (tht had jim henson vibes t b h)#full of rly sweet characters tht would always greet me nd we'd go on like. super domestic adventures.#and i stopped dreaming abt that place for YEARS#until 2017 a little after my addiction was Defeated™ i had a dream abt that place again! fr the first time in Years!!#and there was this. rlly grounding n saddening sense of finality to this one where i got to go around n say goodbye to everyone. it was sad#very bittersweet.#never had a dream abt tht place again..!#and i want this story to be like that!!! exactly like that!!!#she has one final dream of this place she always went to as a child and like. its definitely a lot less calm compared 2 mine.#definirely more hellish n chaotic.#but like. still v touching n genuine.#bc the main character lost the last bit of childhood she had as she Grew Up. n this dream kinda helps her cope w that.#IDK i jus love psychological emotional hell movies ok......whatevr!#frank.txt#ask to tag#car accident m#coma m#father m#death m#parent death m
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Wheel-bound 1/3
Batman/Bruce Wayne X Reader
Warnings :heavy angst, gun wounds, guns
Words: 1,105
Y/N is James 'Jim' Gordon's little sister. Wall they catch up a certain mad man ruins their day. Also Grayson is Robin.
I went to see brother James at his house we sat on the couch. We both had finished our shifts at the station. It has been year's since we spent time together, well without having gun's or life-threatening situations. We sit on his couch.
"so how's my niece?" I ask having not seen her in a while
"she's at her mom's, I'll pick her up tomorrow"
I felt for my brother he ended up with a ugly divorce. He only sees Barbara 2 day's a week. I know he misses Barbara often. He may not be great at relationships, but he's a great father.
"Barbara's very lucky to have you as a father, Jim"
He softly smiled "humph I don't know about that, but anyway how are you? Last I heard you and Bruce were--" he stammered and cleared his throat
I'm a grown ass woman and my overprotective brother still can't handle believing that his dear little sister as had sex. I rolled my eye's
"he's been super busy with Gotham and Wayne enterprise" I say with a heavy sigh missing him "I haven't seen him in a long time"
"maybe it's good for you to have a break"
I snorted "you just like to think I'm still a innocent little girl who doesn't have se--"
"H-H-hey" he nervously laughed "let's not go there"
I heard the door knocking I laugh hitting his shoulder. I walk to the door and opened, Joker! I move my hand to grab my gun. He aimed his gun and fired before I could retaliate.
"Y/N!!" James yelled
I fell back onto the glass coffee table it shattered beneath me. A burning pain in my abdomen. I hear gunfire and my brother's struggling breath. I held my bleeding wound my tears falling in fear of my life and my brother's.
"J-Jim"
Joker, kneeled in front of my touching my cheek
"yes, cry to big brother" he laughed
Dick's P. O. V
At the cave after a training exercise, that M'gann put us in a telekinesis mission that we couldn't have possibly won. Though something added on to my trauma M'gann didn't know Y/N is confined to a wheelchair. I had used a mini robot bug to see and listen to the doctor's. They told Bruce there doing everything they can to save her. That's the last I heard that and she'd never walk again if she were to make it through this. It took everything in my power not to run and hug Y/N when I saw her(though it wasn't really her). I wanted to apologize say that I love her. After my therapy session with Black-Canary I didn't tell her about my only mother figure. I feel that horrible gut feeling I did when I lost my parent's. I walk to the kitchen Miss Martin cooking with a smile. Superboy, sitting on the couch. K-F and Artemis arguing like a married couple. Everything as it should be. So why am I not happy? I can't stop worrying about, Y/N. After my mom and dad died. Bruce, filled in the hole my dad left, in his own way. Y/N, she filled in my hole my mother left. She always cared for me, she disciplines me, she cooks with me, she makes me laugh, I make her laugh and she loves me. I need some space. I went to my bedroom in the cave. I plopped on the bed. I turn onto my side and held onto my pillow. I feel my tears fall.
-"who would like some brownies!" (M'gann)
She had us in a mental link. Great.
-"no thanks M'gann I can't stomach to eat right now"
-"you alright, Rob? (Wally)
-"I'm fine!"
-"you don't sound fine, you sound like hell" (Wally)
-"Wally, be nice" (Artemis)
-"do you want us to call Black-Canary?" (M'gann)
I huff taking a deep breath
-"I just want to go to sleep if you could unlink me. I'd like my thoughts to myself for a while please"
-"o-OK sleep well Boy Wonder" (M'gann)
Bruce's P. O. V
My heart aches seeing Y/N in so much pain. She's lost all feeling from the waist down, confining her to a wheelchair. With my adopted son in the waiting room. I stood in front of her. She was, hooked to a heart monitor, IV fluids and her abdomen bandaged. Wearing a hospital gown with a small blanket on her. I took my glove off. I gently put my knuckles on her soft face
"Y/N, can you hear me?" nothing please open your eye's "Y/N, it's me, it's Bruce"
She jolted her eye's open grabbing my hand, I could've moved away from her grip but I know she's scared. She gasped
"Bruce" her voice tired she grabbed me, I let her wrap her arms around me "he.. He took him Bruce, he took my brother" she cried with fear her anxiety causing her to hyperventilate
"Y/N, calm down" I say softly in hopes of calming my love down "take it easy, it's OK"
She let go her moving her grip to my cape. I cup her arm's as she cried
"what-w-what is he doing to my brother" she sobbed my heart drops
I kissed her she eased her breathing. I leaned on her head
"I promise you, Y/N I will find Jim"
She loosened her grip she touched my chest. She sniffed taking a deep breath.
"I love you"
I reach for her and I hold her hand kissing her knuckles. I usually did not respond when she says those three word's that warm my heart. I would usually show her affection small kisses, loving looks, though given the circumstances
"I love you, Darling"
Y/N's P. O. V
I sat on the wheelchair after a few hours of physical therapy. The doctor explained that I will likely be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. I hear the door knocking
"come in" I say loud enough for whomever was there could hear
I saw, Barbara my 15 year old niece. She covered her face gasping. Tears falling down her face. I narrow my eyebrows hating seeing her so upset. She walked to me and held my hand. I gently rub her back she hugged me. I wrap my arm's around my niece
"oh, Babs we're going to find your dad I promise"
"I heard you were in surgery Bruce pr-promised me on the phone that you we're OK but I was so scared"
"oh, sweetheart it's gonna be OK"
#batman#bruce wayne#Batfamily#Batman X Wife-Reader#Batman X Reader#Bruce Wayne X Reader#Dick Grayson X mom reader#Batmomom! Reader#Batmom X Batman#Jim Gordon sister#Reader is Jim Gordon's sister#Young Justice#Dick Grayson is Robin#Joker#Wheelchair#Wheel-bound
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I'm sorry to hear you've had a bad day. I hope this makes you feel a bit better 💜
Part 20 of Jimercury Kid series
‘I’m going to die.’ Freddie whined dramatically from the sofa, arching his back as Jim walked through the door with a tray of tea and biscuits, carefully setting it on the coffee table in front of the singer. ‘I’m not sure how much more of this pain I can take, darling.’
‘I know, love.’ Jim replied softly, placing another pillow under Freddie’s head. ‘But that’s what happens when you decide to do acrobatics on stage when there are wires lying around.’
‘It was entirely Roger’s fault.’ Freddie huffed. ‘He could have warned me that his drumkit was a danger zone.’
Jim chuckled and kissed his husband’s forehead. ‘The doctor said you’ll be right as rain in a few weeks, so long as you get plenty of rest and keep up the physio.’
The Persian grumbled, ‘I hate rest.’ Then he looked up at Jim with an accusatory glare. ‘And I can’t believe you’re abandoning me to galivant off and cut people’s hair! The audacity.’
Freddie hadn’t been all that pleased when Jim announced that he had accepted a weekend job at the barber shop down the road. The Irishman had befriended the owner, Carl Pritchard, in a bar a few months ago and while he had declined the offer of a full-time job (he still had the garden to think about and Khaleel to look after when Freddie was at the studio,) he was more than happy to lend Carl a hand every Saturday, when the shop was at its busiest.
Khaleel hadn’t been too happy about it either; he was used to Jim being around 24/7 and the sudden change of routine caused him a great amount of stress. Jim was almost late on his first day of the job because his son had cried and refused to let go of his leg. But eventually, the boy begrudgingly accepted it and Jim was able to pacify his separation anxiety with the promise of bringing home a treat when he was finished at work.
‘You’re just saying that because you’re jealous.’ Jim teased, dodging as Freddie attempted to swat his backside. ‘You think I’m going to fall head over heels for Carl’s dashing good looks and run off into the sunset with him.’
Freddie pouted like a child and crossed his arms. ‘So, you do think he’s good looking.’
Jim chuckled and dropped a kiss into his husband’s dark head of hair. ‘I’m old enough to be his dad, sweetheart. Besides, he’s really not my type.’
‘I wasn’t your type either and you still went for me.’
‘Well, how could I possibly resist? Have you seenyour arse?’
He roared with laughter as Freddie attempted to swat him again, but this time the singer grabbed his hand and pulled him down to kiss his lips.
‘Do you love me?’ he whispered once they had parted, brown eyes staring into Jim’s own almost fearfully. They had been together for almost ten years now, and yet he still needed that reassurance.
‘To the moon and back.’ Jim replied, leaning down for a much deeper kiss. He could have stayed like that all day, but a quick glance at his watch told him that he was already pushing it for time.
‘I’ll be back about six.’ He placed one final kiss against Freddie’s forehead before heading to the hallway to grab his coat. ‘I’ve left the shop’s number by the phone in case there’s an emergency. Try not to have too much fun without me.’
‘Very funny.’ Freddie sniggered as Jim blew him a kiss and turned the keys in the door. ‘Have a good day, darling. Don’t snip any ears off.’
The last thing he heard was Jim shouting goodbye to Khaleel up the stairs – which was quickly followed with a cheerful, ‘bye Daddy!’ – before the door was pulled shut. Freddie sighed and stretched his sore back, wishing he could at least hobble over to the piano and belt out a few show tunes to take his mind off the pain. He hated being alone; Phoebe was in town with friends and Khaleel had been colouring upstairs for most of the afternoon. He knew that colouring was one of the ways his bijou coped with Jim’s absence, so he didn’t want to disturb him.
Well, since he was bedbound (or in this case, sofa bound) he might as well catch forty winks. After finishing his tea and munching on a biscuit, he plumped up his pillows, propped his feet up on the armrest and did his best to ignore the constant throbbing in his lower back as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
--
Freddie was awoken by the sound of the phone ringing in the hallway, and he groggily rose from the sofa to go and answer it.
‘It’s Bernie, Bernie Morris.’ Said the voice on the other end of the line. ‘I know you usually have your physio on Sundays, but my 2 o’clock just cancelled and I don’t have any other appointments today. Would you like to take the slot?’
‘Oh darling, that would be wonderful.’ Freddie sighed in relief, rubbing his back as he spoke. ‘It’s really acting up today. I could use your magic hands.’
Bernie chucked jovially. ‘Alright then, see you in twenty.’
Bernard Morris was a tall, broad, cheerful man, recommended to Freddie by Doctor Atkinson after he had his accident. The vocalist had been apprehensive at first, thinking he could simply deal with the pain on his own; but he eventually relented when it became unbearable and had agreed to six weeks’ worth of sessions, so long as he could do it in the comfort of his own home. So far, Bernie’s methods had proved remarkably effective; Freddie’s back still hurt like hell, but he always felt slightly more relieved once he had been stretched and bent over a few times by a handsome looking man.
‘Thank you so much for this, darling.’ Said Freddie, as Bernie laid the exercise mat out on the floor and shifted the coffee table over to give them more space. ‘I was doing well for a couple of days but last night it started hurting like a bastard. I made the mistake of lifting Khaleel up too quickly during playtime.’
‘It’s no bother at all.’ Replied Bernie. ‘How’s the family? I still have yet to meet your little man.’
‘He’s very shy, our Kenny.’ Freddie chuckled fondly. ‘He’s been a bit clingy lately because of this new job Jim has taken up. He’s not used to him being away and he’s finding it hard to understand.’
‘Poor thing.’ Said Bernie sympathetically. ‘My little girl was the same when I started working full-time. But they get used to it eventually. Now,’ he cracked his knuckles, ‘shall we get started?’
‘Abso-fucking-lutely.’ Freddie said with a laugh and carefully laid himself down on the mat.
--
Khaleel let out a soft yawn as he finally finished colouring in Goliath’s bright yellow eyes and carefully added the picture to the pile of cat drawings he had been working on all afternoon. He didn’t like it when Daddy went to work; he was used to Baba being away, even though he missed him, but Daddy was always there and suddenly not having him around all day made Khaleel confused and scared.
His tummy began to rumble, so he hopped off his bed and carefully climbed down the staircases to tell his Baba that he would like a snack. But when he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard a strange noise coming from the lounge. The door was open a crack, so Khaleel peeped through curiously.
Baba was lying on the floor and a strange man was sitting on top of him, pulling on his leg. Baba was moaning in pain, his arm flying up to cover his eyes as the strange man continued to push on his leg until his knee reached his chest, before stopping and doing the same with the other one. Baba started to cry a little, and the man said something, though Khaleel couldn’t hear what it was. The boy felt his tiny heart racing. There was a strange man in the house, and he was hurting his Baba. Daddy and Uncle Phoebe weren’t here to protect them. He wanted to run into the lounge and jump on the horrible man, but his feet were frozen to the floor, unable to move.
Then he remembered the phone. Daddy and Baba had taught him how to use it, though he was only supposed to use it in emergencies, and he was never to call 999 unless he really needed to. Daddy had left his work number beside the telephone in the hall, so Khaleel quickly hurried to it and stood up on his tiptoes to grab the handset. He stared hard at the numbers on the little piece of paper and slowly began pressing the buttons. (1/2)
Jim had to admit that it felt good cutting hair again.
Pritchard & Sons was nothing like the Savoy; it was small and intimate, with a far more welcoming atmosphere and friendly regulars who were always happy to make conversation. He instantly felt at home in the place and found himself actually looking forward to working on a Saturday; despite his full-time commitment to the garden, he had been longing for a change of scenery as of late, and this job offer was exactly what he needed.
He was busy brushing away the stray hairs from the shop floor when the telephone at the front desk began to ring. Carl was nowhere to be seen and his two co-workers, Simon and Neil, were busy with clients, so he set his broom against the wall and crossed over to the desk, picking up the handset before it could ring off.
‘Pritchard & Sons, how can I help you?’
‘Daddy?’ Came a small voice from the other end of the line.
Jim was taken back a second, as if he was hearing things. ‘Kenny? Is that you? Kenny, you shouldn’t be calling Daddy at work, he’s very busy.’
‘Daddy, I need help.’ The little boy whimpered in response.
‘Sweetheart, if you need help with something, ask your Baba-’
‘There’s a strange man in the house.’ Khaleel started to sob, his voice a terrified whisper, as if he was worried about being heard. ‘There’s a strange man and he’s hurting Baba.’
Jim felt his blood run cold. ‘W-what do you mean? Where’s Baba, Kenny?’
‘In the lounge. The man is on top of him, and Baba is crying.’
Oh Jesus. Jim began to shake, sweat beading his forehead as a million images flashed before his eyes. He knew he couldn’t let Khaleel hear the fear in his voice, otherwise it would just panic the little boy further. ‘Sweetheart, listen to me. I need you to go upstairs into your bedroom and hide under your bed, okay? Daddy’s coming, everything’s going to be okay.’
Khaleel continued to sob. ‘Daddy, please hurry.’‘
‘Please, Kenny, do as I say. Hang up the phone and go upstairs as quietly as you can. I promise I’ll be home soon.’
There was a loud sniff, before Khaleel mumbled, ‘hurry, Daddy,’ and the line went dead.
‘Tell Carl there’s been an emergency!’ Jim yelled over the counter to Simon, as he raced to the hat stand and grabbed his coat, racing through the door before he even got a response. He cursed as he fumbled with his car keys, almost dropping them into the gutter as his hands trembled violently; as soon as he was in the driver’s seat, he slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped down the road.
-----
As soon as he reached Garden Lodge, Jim immediately went around the back entrance, not wanting to alert the intruder by ringing the bell. As soon as he had turned the key in the back door, he immediately called for Freddie, feeling his heart sink when he didn’t receive a response. He slowly walked down the hallway, glancing into every room in case someone leapt out and attacked him, until he reached the kitchen and quickly armed himself with a large knife that had been left sitting on the counter. He prayed that he wouldn’t have to use it.
‘Freddie!’ he cried out again, almost in tears, the hand holding the knife shaking so hard it was a miracle he didn’t drop it.
The kitchen door suddenly swung open behind him, and he yelled in surprise, whipping round, knife clasped in both hands and pointed straight at his would-be assailant.
There was a high-pitched shriek and a crash, and only then did Jim realise it was Freddie, clad in one of his silk kimonos and surrounded by broken teacups. They both stood there, frozen, as Jim looked his husband up and down; Freddie appeared unhurt, though shell-shocked, the tray he had been carrying now lying at his feet amongst shards of china.
‘Jim!’ Freddie screamed, once he had overcome his initial shock. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing?!’
Jim didn’t respond. He dropped the knife immediately, letting it clatter against the kitchen tiles as he ran to Freddie and scooped him into his arms, hugging him fiercely. His husband let out a surprised squeak as he was suddenly lifted off the floor and he quickly wound his legs around Jim’s hips before the younger man dropped him on his arse. It felt like Jim stood there forever, holding onto Freddie tightly, swaying back and forth like he did when soothing Khaleel to sleep.
‘Darling?’ Freddie finally whispered into Jim’s flushed ear. ‘Darling, what’s going on? What was all that about?’
Jim finally released his husband, brushing away the tears that had fallen down his cheeks as he cupped Freddie’s face and looked desperately into his eyes. ‘Are you alright? Are you hurt?’
Freddie looked baffled. ‘Hurt? Of course not! Why would I be hurt? And what are you even doing here? I thought you didn’t finish work until six.’
The Irishman’s heart finally began to relax as he took a moment to process this information. ‘Khaleel called the shop. He said there was a man in here and he was hurting you. I got here as fast as I could.’
Freddie stared at him with wide eyes, looking like a deer in headlights. ‘Oh my God…Jim, that was Bernie. Bernie Morris, my physiotherapist. He’s in the conservatory, I was just about to make us some more tea.’
Jim looked like he was about to collapse to the floor. He leaned back against the counter, colour finally returning to his face as he realised that Freddie and Khaleel had never been in any danger. All the horrifying scenarios that had been playing in his mind finally ceased to be.
‘Oh God…’ he covered his eyes with his hands, taking deep, uneven breaths, ‘I thought some psycho had broken in, I thought…’ He cut off, not wanting to even consider what could have happened.
Freddie carefully stepped over the mess on the floor, careful not to cut his bare feet as he approached him and put his arms around Jim’s neck, gently kissing his forehead. ‘You really would have killed a man just to protect me?’
Jim removed his hands from his eyes and replied without any hesitation. ‘Absolutely. The bastard wouldn’t have known what hit him.’
Freddie chucked softly, ‘my knight in shining armour.’ Then suddenly his eyes went wide. ‘Kenny! Where’s Kenny?’
‘I told him to go upstairs and hide under his bed.’ Replied Jim. ‘Come on, let’s go and get him. He’s scared out of his wits.’
-----
It had taken a while to coax Khaleel out from underneath his bed. But his parents eventually managed to convince him that the mean man downstairs was actually a very nice man, who was helping Baba get better, and the only reason Baba had been crying in the lounge was because his back hurt so much. They praised him for being such a brave boy and using the phone to call for help when he thought it was needed. Khaleel eventually crawled out and let Freddie carry him downstairs.
He hid in face in Freddie’s shoulder when he saw Bernie, his body trembling in fear. But he gradually looked up when Bernie started chatting to him, realising this strange man wasn’t really that scary up close. By the time Phoebe arrived home from town, Kenny was sitting on Bernie’s lap, giggling as the man held one of his soft toys, pretending to make it talk in a deep gruff voice.
‘What happened here?’ Phoebe asked as he walked into the kitchen to see Jim sweeping up the broken china into a dustpan.
‘Long story.’ Was all the Irishman said in reply. (2/2)
--------------------------------------------------
Aww an extra long update! I loved it😊 It was exactly what I needed after the exhausting day I've had, thank you for making me smile with this part (and all your stories everyday).
I was happy to see Jim take up a part time job of a hairdresser. I've often wondered about that in Freddie!lives scenarios. I think one of the reasons why Jim took up the job of the gardener at GL is to be close to Freddie who had received his diagnosis by that time, if I'm not wrong.
And aww, baby Khaleel being so smart and calling up his father when he saw that his baba was in danger. And ofc, Jim being ready to do absolutely anything to keep his family safe... my heart.
And lol, I can see Phoebe rolling his eyes in the kitchen like, "I take one day off..."
(More drabbles by writer anon)
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Hi! So I’m rewatching TAB atm and it’s giving me feeeels. Do you have recs for after the get off the plane where John deals with Sherlock and specifically his overdose? I wish we’d had a part 2 where the show went into it, but I’m hoping you can give me some amazing fanfic instead! And Johnlock as friends is good as well as slash!
HI NONNY!!!
AHHHH I love TAB SO MUCH. It’s my favourite Sherlock Ep, and I wish I had more fics related to it :( I don’t have anything new since then, but all these fics are from my S3 / TAB / S4 [FIX IT] Fics list from last March, but because I love y’all, I’ll separate it on its own because it’s pretty far down and hidden, and I know other people would like to read some separate, so here you are!
And friends, if y’all have any TABlock, PLEASE give them to me!! I need more!!
THE ABOMINABLE BRIDE (TABlock) (APR. 2020)
See also:
S3 / TAB / S4 [FIX IT] Fics (March 2019)
Victorianlock
ACD Canon
The Two of Us Against the World by slashscribe (T, 1,617 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Anxious Sherlock, Angsty Fluff) – John is there to take care of Sherlock as he comes down from his overdose in The Abominable Bride. Set immediately after the tarmac, back in 221B.
Loudly Unspoken by Mount_Seleya (M, 1,871 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Love Confessions, Vulnerable Sherlock, Frottage) – John confronts Sherlock about the words he left unsaid on the tarmac. Set immediately after TAB.
Stay by sussexbound (M, 2,067 w., 1 Ch. || Post TAB, Suicidal Ideation Mention, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Love Confessions, Frottage, Coming in Pants) – “Why? Why did you do it? Hmm…?” He takes a deep breath, waits, lets it out again. “Look at me.” There’s no denying him when he takes this tone. “Why did you kill him? Hmm…? For her? After…” A muscle twitches in the corner of John’s eye, and he clamps his jaw down tightly, swallows and sniffs a little before continuing. “For her? After everything she’s done?” “For you.” Before he can even stop himself. Just like that.
Journal of Truths by Goddess_of_the_Night (T, 2,317 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV / TAB, Pining, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Declarations of Love) – When John escorts Sherlock back to Baker Street from the tarmac, he discovers a journal that Sherlock has kept secret...that he has kept secrets in.
Green Carnation by glenien (T, 2,616 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Meta-Fic, Angst and Fluff, Communication, Post-TAB) – John takes Sherlock home. Part 1 of It’s No Longer Eighteen Ninety-Five
The Trial of Sherlock Holmes by jenna221b (G, 3,015 w. across 3 works || TAB!lock, Metafic / TJLC, Victorian AU / 1895, Christmas, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Oscar Wilde) – Scripts based on speculation that Sherlock will be put on trial in The Abominable Bride to parallel the Oscar Wilde Trials of 1895.
I Love You (Is All That You Can't Say) by theSeventhStranger (T, 3,147 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Post-Tarmac Scene, Fix-It, Dev. Rel., Retrospective, Angst and Fluff) – “Sherlock. On the tarmac. I got the feeling that you were going to, um. To say something else.”
five times sherlock holmes lied to john watson (and one time he finally told the truth) by miss_frankenstein (G, 5,948 w., 1 Ch. || TAB Compliant || Homophobia, Pining Sherlock, Oscar Wilde Trials, Happy Ending) – Set in "The Abominable Bride" universe, this piece adopts a familiar format to chronicle Sherlock's quiet suffering in the wake of the 1895 Oscar Wilde trials and the particular way they affect his relationship with (and feelings for) John.
Drawstring by May_Shepard (E, 7,412 w., 1 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, UST/RST, Fluff and Smut, Post-TAB, John POV) – John is bothered by Sherlock’s slowly-falling jim-jams… as in hot and bothered and he is trying to deal with a sexy dishevelled Sherlock while also keeping his pining in check.
Never Been This Swept Away by estalita11 (T, 8,531 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Mary is Not Nice, Drug Use, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – Set immediately after TAB, Sherlock visits his brother to definitely not apologize about earlier and ends up finally learning a few things that would have been nice knowing about months ago. Mycroft never wants to deal with lovestruck idiots ever again.
Out of the Darkness by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (M, 12,165+ w., 2 Ch. || WIP || Death, Overdose, Heavy Angst, Whump, Mary is Not Nice, Post S3/TAB Compliant) – John Watson has long assumed Sherlock Holmes is immune to sentiment, “doesn’t feel things that way.” Sherlock, however, would do anything for the person he loves most in the world, including putting himself in danger while keeping John in the dark in hopes of keeping him safe. Tired of being left behind, John is running a strategy of his own. Unfortunately things do not go as planned for either of them. And as John lays bleeding, Sherlock finally allows himself to say the things he’s always meant to… This is the story of love, forgiveness and finally making right all the wrongs in these two men’s lives.
Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) – Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.
The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.
MARKED FOR LATER
Stay for Me by Itsallfine (M, 17,310 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss/Time, Bed Sharing, Mental Health Issues, Not-Nice Mary, Divorce, Angst with Happy Ending, Parentlock) – 221B was packed into boxes and bins, and that was when John knew, really knew—Sherlock had planned to be gone forever.
Crimson Hymns by brilliantlyburning (E, 48,982 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S3/TAB, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction, Unhealthy Coping Methods, Demisexual Sherlock, Boxing, Pining, Sensory Processing Issues, Drug Use, First Kiss / Time, BDSM, Mary is Not Good, Parentlock, Proposal, Happy Ending, Beekeeping, Violence, References to Addiction, Poetry) – He laid his head over John’s heart, eyes level with his silver-rough scar, and listened to the crimson hymns beating beneath the surface. He imagined flowers blooming in his own chest: veins weaving intricate patterns on petals of thin muscle engorged with blood, sinew for stems and tendons for roots—the flowers would be poppies, maybe (addictive) or foxglove (deadly yet useful)—twining gleaming blood-red around the porcelain bone of his ribs. In his mind’s eye the gruesome bouquet all tied together on the left side of his chest, the stems bound together in heartstrings and the flowers fed by the rhythmic contraction of ventricles. It’s yours, he imagined saying to John—from the vena cava to the mitral valve to the arteries it is yours.— Or, the Love Song of W. Sherlock S. Holmes.
NO! by Tildathings (M, 50,043 w., 36 Ch. || Homophobia, Bed Sharing, Military Uniforms, Past Abuse, Jealous John, Stalking, Violence, First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Pillow Talk, Coming Out, Sherlock’s Past, Shower, Cuddling, Grief and Sorrow, Hugs, Character Death) – Sherlock has been in a coma in over 8 months after he overdosed on the plane at TAB, during which time Mary and Rosie were killed by Vivian Norbury. This story starts 3 weeks after Sherlock has woken up. John is asking to move back to Baker Street.
The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series
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A Tale of Red States and Blue States
Once upon a time, there was a state.
It was a large state, with vast stretches of country between its world-class cities. It had communities rich in diversity and activism and ideas – and it had a lot of resentful white people who were just plain old rich.
The richest and most resentful white people created a terrible blight they called “modern conservatism.” They set their wicked curse on the state, and then unleashed it on the nation with two Republican presidents – one lamentable, the next even worse.
There were many along the way who sounded the alarm, but there were more who ignored the danger far too long. The spell had summoned a beast. The beast was hideous and stupid. It was no good at anything except being a hateful beast. But the dark spell had done so much damage that being a hateful beast was enough for the beast to win, at least for a time.
In one version of the story, the state is called “California.”
In another, it is called “Texas.”
It’s strange to think of now, with a decade of sneering about the “left coast” and “San Francisco liberals” and blah blah blah baked into political conventional wisdom, but it’s true. The reactionary modern conservatism which held the whip hand on the backlash to the great civil rights advances of the 1960s was born in California. California voted for Richard Nixon six times: once as their senator, twice as Eisenhower’s vice president, and then three times as the Republican presidential nominee. In between those elections, Nixon of course had to win primaries. In 1968, when he was the Republican front-runner, he faced an upstart challenger who wanted to make sure he’d be racist enough to keep conservative southerners in the tent. That person was not a southerner, but the then-governor of California, Ronald Reagan, who would go on to be the next Republican elected after Nixon.
So what the fuck happened? Well, a lot of things, and I don’t want to pretend to do justice to the generations of righteous activism that pushed back against this disastrous regime. Democrats did occasionally win state-wide – notably, California elected two Democratic women to the Senate in 1992 – even though Orange County was practically a metonym for American conservatism right up until the 2018 midterms. But the turning point that seems to have gotten your average voter to turn on the Republican party for good was in 1994. Governor Pete Wilson, a kind of hard-right proto-Trump, threw his weight behind a hateful anti-immigrant ballot initiative. It passed, even though it was so deranged that it never went into effect because a federal court ruled it unconstitutional within days of the vote, because the California electorate really was that conservative. The electorate changed, almost on a dime. Mexican-American voters organized. Their friends and neighbors and fellow citizens realized that sitting back wasn’t an option. And now the Republican Party of California is a fucking joke.
This isn’t, like, the eternal winds of history blowing microscopic chips off the statue of Ozymandias. If you remember the Clinton presidency, this happened in your lifetime. If you’re a little bit younger than that, it happened in your big cousins’ lifetimes.
Part of what makes it hard to see changes like this is that the dim bulbs in our political media see everything through a horse race lens, where who gets one particular W is the only piece of information worth retaining. You win and you’re clever; you lose and you’re a dumb sucker who tried. Who gets power is really important! But if you only care about that, then you miss the really important trends.
Take the Georgia 6th, the district once represented by Newt fucking Gingrich. Its representative joined Trump’s cabinet in early 2017, at least in part because it was such a supposedly safe Republican seat, so there was a special election for his replacement. Traumatized Democrats and Women’s Marchers threw themselves into the steeply uphill campaign of former John Lewis intern Jon Ossoff. When he came up a few points short, our blue-check media betters tried to turn Ossoff into a punch line stand-in for silly #Resistance liberal losers coping with Trump by losing some more, SUCK IT, MOM! but the other, correct, interpretation is that Ossoff only came up a few points short in a district that was supposed to protect the kookiest of right-wing cranks. His campaign had functioned as kind of an ad hoc boot camp for novice organizers, canvassers, and future school board candidates who had previously been too discouraged and disorganized to take this kind of swing, and it showed Democratic party donors that the district was winnable. So when gun safety advocate and Mother of the Movement Lucy McBath stepped up to the plate in the 2018 midterms, her campaign had the infrastructure it needed, and now she’s well-positioned to be reelected because she’s doing a great job. Meanwhile, Ossoff’s organizing chops and the enthusiastic work his supporters did for Rep. McBath are a big part of why he’s in a dead heat against incumbent Republican Senator David Purdue.
That’s why I’m keeping an eye on the South this year. The presidential campaign there is interesting, but the real story is in those network effects. There’s a rising tide that threatens to make the blue wave of 2018 look like a light spring shower if things break the right way. Just look at the Democratic senate candidates. They’re a diverse group: men and women, Black and white, preacher and fighter pilot. Most are relative newcomers to national audiences, but only some of them are young. Jon Ossoff is just 33; when he was in grade school, Mike Espy of Mississippi was Secretary of Agriculture. What they do seem to have in common is that they are having the time of their fucking lives.
Here’s Espy:
Moving and grooving in McComb. pic.twitter.com/RANCRGGpX7
— Mike Espy (@MikeEspyMS)
October 31, 2020
Ossoff:
The people of Georgia are tired of having a spineless, disgraced politician serve as their Senator. pic.twitter.com/OdaYwFKzmz
— Jon Ossoff (@ossoff)
October 30, 2020
Senator Doug Jones of Alabama:
I know you’ve heard us say it before, but when you see this clip, it bears reappearing: This guy really is clueless. https://t.co/w9YOUHegCW
— Doug Jones (@DougJones)
October 22, 2020
Jamie Harrison of South Carolina:
It's debate night and y'all know I'm going to walk it like I talk it.
Let's see if @LindseyGrahamSC can do the same. pic.twitter.com/TNABxsaTEO
— Jaime Harrison (@harrisonjaime)
October 30, 2020
And the bad bitch with her eye on the big prize, MJ Hegar of Texas:
It's about time Texans had a senator as tough as we are. https://t.co/8MQ8Tykmyt pic.twitter.com/bgPr5vtgdh
— MJ Hegar (@mjhegar)
October 16, 2020
Clutch those pearls, John! https://t.co/iWej8MrhtV
— MJ Hegar (@mjhegar)
October 22, 2020
The spineless bootlicker Hegar is challenging, Senate Majority Whip John Cornyn, is currently resting his dainty patoot in the seat once held by none other than Lyndon Baines Johnson. As president, LBJ would aggressively push for some of the greatest human rights legislation in American history in pursuit of what he called the Great Society. That meant Medicare and Medicaid. It meant a revolution in environmental protections. It meant PBS. And it meant telling the one-party authoritarian regime in the Jim Crow south that America was done with their bullshit, they were going to have real democracy, they were going to do it now, and if they didn’t like it they could eat his ass.
Johnson was a complicated guy and left a complicated legacy. His project required an unusual leader of courage, conviction, and unmitigated savvy, cut with streaks of megalomania and dubious mental health. No architect but Lyndon Johnson would have built the Great Society, and no place but Texas could have built Lyndon Johnson.
Then again, Texas also gave us the Bushes in the late twentieth century. It gave us a terrorist attack on a Biden campaign bus just this weekend.
That darkness is real. So is the long, grinding slog to turn on the light. Like the GA-06 silliness, Democratic efforts in Texas get laughed at as some quixotic waste of resources by arrogant flops. In fact, the past few years of high-profile statewide elections in Texas have been on a pretty clear trajectory. In 2014, Wendy Davis, a state senator from Fort Worth who captured widespread progressive attention with her heroic filibuster of a 2013 state abortion ban, ran for governor. She lost by the ~20-point margin you’d expect in a year where Republicans everywhere did really well, but it was a vitamin B-12 shot to a perpetually overwhelmed state Democratic party. The 2016 Clinton campaign, when it was (correctly!) on the offensive before FBI Director Comey decided he would really prefer a Trump presidency, invested heavily in its Texas ground game. It was always a long shot, but even after the Comey letter and the Texas-specific sabotage by the Russian Internet Research Agency, Texas Democrats cut Trump’s margin there down to single digits. That is to say, they recruited the volunteers and taught the skills and raised the cash and registered the voters to carry the ball way down the field. And in the 2018 midterms, El Paso representative Beto O’Rourke built on all that energy to fight Senator Ted Cruz to a near draw. O’Rourke didn’t quite make it, but he did help a lot of downballot Democrats over the finish line and forced Republicans to light a few oil drums of cash on fire to save a seat that they had always assumed would be safe.
That growth has been possible because of a ton of hard work and persuasion, but it’s also been possible because there was so much untapped potential. As progressives have argued for years, Texas was less of a “red state” than a non-voting state. I’m not a person that usually has a lot of patience for people not bothering to vote, because the people who get to be loud about that are whiny, privileged assholes who can afford to be flip about the right to vote. But there are a lot of people who find it hard because they absolutely do know the weight and importance of voting, because they or their mothers or their grandfathers were beaten and terrorized to keep them away from the polls. They might make the same mouth-noises as the selfish dilettantes about how it doesn’t matter and they’re all corrupt and blah blah blah. But a vote is a tiny little leap of faith. It’s at least a skip of hope. And it hurts to know the weight and importance of that and to keep feeling that disappointment over and over again.
A key thing that Republicans in the South managed to do for a while, but California Republicans didn’t, was to let their misrule seem almost tolerable day to day. As outrageous as the overall trends were, as catastrophic the results were for a lot of people’s lives, it didn’t necessarily feel entirely irrational for lots of people to avoid the inconvenience and disappointment of trying to stop them. But if you’re just going to be a constant, unwavering shit show of incompetence and evil, infuriating people every waking minute of every fucking day for years on end, they’re not going to be deterred by inconvenience and disappointment. They're not going to be deterred by fucking tear gas. They’re going to understand that it’s worth trying to get rid of you, even if it’s a long shot. They’re going to line up to kick you in the shin just for the hell of it. And that’s exactly what millions of them have already done.
These dumbass motherfuckers radicalized Taylor goddamn Swift!
LOOK WHAT YOU MADE HER DO!
So yeah. People who had given up are fucking voting. Texas has already had hundreds of thousands more people vote than voted in all of 2016. BEFORE ELECTION DAY!
Vice President Biden likes to recite a poem by the great Irish bard Seamus Heaney. It’s about how you have to have faith that a better world is possible, even when you don’t have any rational reason to expect it any time soon, because it’s the only way you’ll be able to seize the most precious of opportunities, when “justice can rise up/ And hope and history rhyme.”
Sometimes hope and history walk into a bar to tell dirty jokes for a bachelorette party in downtown Austin. And they rhyme.
For a hundred and fifty years, unreconstructed revanchist terrorist sympathizers have threatened that “the South will rise again.” They mean the treasonous mobsters who called themselves the Confederacy.
Why do those losers get to define the South? Like, literally, they’re losers. They lost.
There’s another South. The terrorists cut it off at the knees, so it never quite rose the first time. But it’s always been there. The South the heroes of Reconstruction tried to build. The South of the Kennedy Space Station and the Center for Disease Control. The South of the French Quarter of New Orleans and the gay neighborhoods of Atlanta. The South of Barbara Jordan, Ann and Cecile Richards, Stacey Abrams, and the young women of the Virginia state legislature. The South of Maya Angelou, Molly Ivins, and Mark Twain. The South of the exiles of Miami and the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma. The South of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Representative John Lewis. The South of James Earl Carter, William Jefferson Clinton, and Lyndon Baines Johnson.
Once upon a time, there was a colossus. The richest and most resentful white people feared it, for it was both great and good. So they hunted it mercilessly. They tortured and killed its most vulnerable people. They bound it and silenced it and told the rest of the world it didn’t even exist. But they knew that wicked lie was the best they could do, for something so mighty could never be slain by the likes of them.
The giant grows stronger every day as it struggles against its chains, and those chains are turning to rust. One day soon - maybe in this decade; maybe this week – it will break free. It will rise. And it will shake the earth. Just you watch.
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A Pirate's Life for Me: part 5
Tags: @thomothy @sophiefrye22 @thebluebutterflyaffect
Dancing with Jack Ketch: to be hung
Knave: a servant boy or dishonorable man
It was high noon when Eric finished mopping the decks of the pirate ship, and now Pete ordered him to scrub the main spar of the ship with a rag and a bucket of soapy water. He had only been on the ship for half a day and was already being worked to the bone, his back and arms were beginning to feel sore. But he needed to keep working, he didn't want to be on Magnum's bad side. He continued to scrub until he felt someone pat his back rather harshly, prompting him to turn around only to see Pete look down at him with a grin.
"Well, color me impressed, lad. This ship 'asn't glistened like this in ages." Pete began, taking the rag from Eric. "But the Cap'n says that ye 'aven't eaten yet. So 'ow's about ye take a break an' get some grub?"
"A-Aye s-sir," Eric whispered as he sat the bucket down, looking around. "Wh-Where do I-?"
"One o' our cooks be preparin' it fer ye an' will brin' it to ye shortly. 'e dyin' to meet ye," Pete answered, picking up the bucket and tossing the rag in. "'e'll be 'ere shortly. Just wait where ye be."
Eric gave him a nod, watching as the quartermaster walked away, before noticing the pirate named John, casting him threatening glares, talking with a small group.
"Why does 'e get to eat early? we did nay get that there special treatment when we were 'ired." one of them murmured, giving Eric a dirty look.
Eric flinched as he turned away from them, clutching his leather vest tightly. He wanted to run when-.
"You're Eric right?"
Eric jumped turning around to see a pirate, holding a plate of fruits and meat, a warm smile on his face. The timid ego was quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, straightening his vest. "Uh, um yes- I mean Aye. I'm Eric. And uh um you are?" he asked, holding out his hand for him to shake.
"I'm cooking master Jim." He said with a smile, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "But you can call me C.J. since my brother is named Jim as well."
"Wh-Who's your brother?" Eric questioned before watching C.J. pointing over to a man steering the ship, who looked exactly like C.J. minus the different outfits.
"That be him." C.J. began. "He and I are twins. Mother thought it easier if we had the same names." he chuckled before looking at the plate. "Well, I was ordered to bring ye some grub and so I brought you the best that this ship can offer. Don't want ye working on an empty stomach."
Eric smiled, taking the plate from C.J. "Thank you C.J. it's nice t-to meet a friendly f-face here."
"Ye, but don't be fooled by the Captain's harsh exterior. He's got a kind heart." C.J. shrugged. "Just chooses not to show it sometimes... Well, I'll take me leave then. Enjoy."
Eric waved C.J. off, before walking over to a lonely corner, where he sat, taking small bites of his food, thinking over what C.J. said. The Captain didn't seem... Too harsh to him... Was he like that to the others?... And what made him so different?
After he was finished, he walked around the ship looking for a place to discard the empty plate when he was shoved out of the way causing him to fall to his stomach.
"Watch it!" A pirate snapped, glaring at Eric before walking away.
Eric shook his head, lifting himself to his knees, about to grab the plate, when something grabbed him by his shirt, lifting him up in the air, causing him to yelp. He was slowly turned around, revealing that it was Magnum holding him up in the air with one hand, looking at him with a grin, chuckling to himself.
"The others can be a 'andful to deal with me lad. But ye'll get used to them." Magnum began, setting Eric gently down onto his feet, before helping him dust off. "Ye okay?"
"Aye Captain," Eric whispered casting his eyes on the ground, rubbing his hands together.
"LAND HO CAPTAIN!" A pirate shouted causing Eric to jump.
Magnum looked up to see that they were about to enter a giant cave, causing him to grin before turning to Eric, patting his back. "Ye be in fer a treat me lad, come."
Eric watched as Magnum walked to the front of the ship, before following him close behind, looking around the dark cave. He watched as Magnum grabbed one of the ropes, holding it tightly as he walked on the very edge, leaning forward as he stared ahead, able to see an opening in the cave. "HEAD ON THROUGH!" Magnum shouted. "AN' PULL THE MAINSAIL IN!"
As commanded, the pirates pulled the mainsail in as the entrance became narrower, the ship getting closer to the exit. Eric was blinded by the sudden light, causing him to rub his eyes, before opening them once more and what he saw left him in awe. Through the cave was what looked like a small city next to the shore that was surrounded by a huge cliff barrier. There were buildings and people laughing, singing, and fighting. The smell of food cooking filled the air and the sound of music rang through Eric's ear and all he could do was stare in shock. "Wh-Where are w-we?"
Magnum only chuckled as he turned to the timid ego, who was looking up at him in wonder. "This... here be pirate gulch... 'ome o' the deadliest pirates ye'll e'er see." he then turned to Eric hopping back onto the deck looming over the timid ego. "So I'd advise ye to stay close to the crew if ye want to stay alive." he smiled as Eric gulped, giving him a nod, causing him to chuckle, before walking ahead, the boy following him close behind. "CINCH THE SAILS AN' DROP ANKER CREW, WE'LL BE 'ERE AWHILE!"
After the ship was secure, Magnum and his crew walked onto the deck, heading into town. The streets were busy with people selling either food, livestock, or jewelry, all yelling their prices and what's for sale. It brought a smile to Magnum's face. He loved the loudness of the streets, it was home. However, he turned around to see Eric walking right behind him, following him like a lost puppy, looking around with timid eyes. He gave him a small smile before patting his back. Maybe the boy needed a distraction. "So, do ye 'ave any questions boyo?"
"Uh... W-Well... Wh-Why is Pirate g-gulch surrounded b-by a cliff?" Eric asked, looking up at Magnum.
"Oh, why fer protection me lad," Magnum answered with a smile. "No one other than us pirates knows about it."
"Why do p-pirates hide? And... Wh-who are they hiding f-from?" Eric whispered flinching when a person at a booth coped the head of a fish completely off.
"Well, sea creatures like sirens, ghost ships, everything." Magnum began before turning to Eric, stopping in his tracks. "An' worse o' all, the Royal Navy. Ye stay clear o' them me lad. No jolly will come o' it."
"Wh-What will happen i-if I do?"
Magnum only grinned, giving Eric a dark chuckle. "Then ye'll be dancin' with Jack Ketch."
Eric blinked in confusion before turning around, looking at Pete who was behind them the whole time, his eyes full of question on what he meant. It was until Pete made a hanging gesture when he realized what that meant causing Eric to gulp, standing closer to Magnum.
After strolling down the streets of pirate gulch, Magnum turned to the crew, watching as they all paused one by one. "Alright, crew! I 'ave important business to attend to, an' I wish not to be disturbed. So, yer assessment be to restock on supplies an' after go one o' the taverns get yourselves a drink. Ye've earned it."
Eric watched as the crew only cheered, before beginning to break up into small groups, going to stands or into taverns. He only stood there before feeling someone pat his shoulder causing him to look up, to see Magnum look at him with a smile.
"Find a crew to 'ang around. This here business be a private matter I be afraid." Magnum ordered gently.
"B-But... But I d-don't know who will-."
"Come with us." C.J. smiled pointing to his brother who just waved. "We're getting food supplies if ye want to join us."
"Good lads." Magnum cheered, patting C.J. and Jim's backs with a chuckle, before turning to Eric. "I'll see to ye later Eric. Pete, let's make 'aste!" he ordered as he walked away, Pete following close behind.
Eric watched them leave before feeling C.J. taking his hand, pulling him along. "Let's get to the market for fruit supplies." C.J. smiled placing Eric right between him and Jim, heading further into the market.
A few minutes later, Eric was watching J.C. and Jim as they were picking out fruits for the ship, along with livestock that they could cook with. Other than that he was watching the people of the market doing their work when he felt someone forcefully grab him by the shoulders and drag him away. He went to scream for C.J. when someone clamped his mouth shut. He watched as they dragged him into an ally way right next to a store selling fish. He was then slammed against the wall, causing him to yelp before looking up in horror.
It was none other than John and three other crew members looking at him with harsh grins, chuckling at his growing fear.
"Ye listen well an' ye listen jolly." John began with a growl, watching as Eric coward and squint his eyes shut. "I don't care if you were stranded or if you're really are a stowaway. But you will not last a week on our ship."
"I-I... I'm n-not-."
"An' another thin." he interrupted, watching as Eric pressed his mouth shut. "Ye may be the Cap'n new little pet, but that there doesn't mean that we be fixin' to give ye special treatment. Ye be no pirate! Hell, ye be not even a cabinboy. You're just a Lilly-livered knave."
Eric flinched squinting his eyes shut, fighting the urge to cry, but that didn't stop his eyes from filling with water.
"Now stay out o' me way, or there be consequences, savvy!?" John snapped.
"A-Aye!" Eric whimpered, before being yanked off the wall and thrown out of the ally, landing right into barrels of fish that he knocked over. Eric shook his head as he looked up to see John and his gang walk away, causing him to sigh in relief before hearing someone yelling.
"Who knocked over my barrels?!" a man snapped before he paused looking down at a frightened Eric. "You!" the man then reached to his side pulling out a dagger. "I'LL 'AVE YER AN' FER THIS!"
Eric gasped as he scrambled to his feet beginning to run, the man following close behind. He ran past dozens of people, trying to plow threw crowds, but the man was still on his tale and getting closer. He glances behind himself seeing the man reaching for him before he suddenly stopped. Eric then looked ahead seeing a cliffside. That he was about to fall off. He tried to slow down and skid to a stop but he went over anyway. He squints his eyes shut waiting for him to hit the ground below, but nothing happens. However, he felt a tug as he was hoist into the air causing him to open his eyes, staring right at captain Magnum, who was looking at him in confusion.
"What be ye doin' boyo?" Magnum questioned looking him over. "Ye could 'ave caught yer death-."
"Sir!" the man who was chasing Eric snapped with a scowl, pointing at Eric. "Unhand that there no jolly scoundrel so that I can-!"
Magnum's warm eyes suddenly became cold and callous once more as he let out a low growl, slowly turning to the man, who's scowl fell, being replaced with fear. Eric watched as the people around them gasped, backing away in fear.
"C-Captain M-Magnum?!" the man breathed as he backed away some more.
Magnum then gently sat Eric down, stomping toward the man, things around them shaking with every step he took. The towering pirate clenched his fist as he spoke. "An' just what be ye plannin' on doin' to me cabinboy?"
"He-He's y-your?-"
"An' I 'ope it be nothin' that could 'arm the poor lad. Because if that be the case." he suddenly grabbed the man by the neck and hoist him in the air, getting into his face, hearing the man choke within his grasp. "Then I'd 'ave to shoot ye out o' me canon. An' I've been dyin' to use 'her fer a while now. Though we don't want that right?" the man frantically shook his head. "Jolly, now go aft to yer 'ell 'ole ye call a fish shop an' leave me cabinboy alone savvy?!" the man nodded his head, causing Magnum to let him go, watching as he dropped to the ground before scrambling onto his feet and run the other way.
Magnum huffed as he straightened his coat turning to Eric who was looking at him in fear. Suddenly the coldness left Magnum's eyes as he walked over to the boy, looking him over. "Be ye okay? 'e did nay 'urt ye did 'e?"
"N-No. I-I'm o-okay." Eric whispered looking down.
"What 'appen to C.J. an' sail master Jim?"
"I g-got separated from them."
Magnum thought for a moment before turning to Pete who just shrugged. The captain hummed to himself before patting Eric's shoulder. "I suppose ye can come with me to the meetin'. Ye be me cabinboy after all. Besides, it might 'ave not been the best idea to let ye wander alone. Would ye like to accompany me?" he asked watching as Eric gave him a nod. "Jolly, but I must warn ye, no blabberin', or askin' questions, do as I say when we enter, an' whatever ye 'ear do not tell the crew anythin'. I'll tell them when I be ready to, savvy?"
"Aye Captain," Eric whispered cowering slightly.
"Jolly. Now come, we be fixin' to be late." Magnum quickly said as he began to walk down the street, Eric and Pete following close behind.
#captain magnum#eric derekson#markiplier egos#a heist with markiplier#my fics#my writings#a pirate's life for me
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Epilogue I, Kieran Duffy
(I have completely forgotten the first interactions John has with the people on the ranch, so I’m just making it up. Sorry. Also unedited cause I’m lazy and sleepy)
John Marston pulled up to the large, modern ranch that he had forgotten the name of. While the horses slowly walked into the ranch, he looked around, at the light oak fences, houses and other buildings. All that combines with the blue sky and purple flowers had a very particular vibe to it.
“Howdy there son, those our supplies?” A young man said. Younger looking than John, so his words confused him to an extent. “Yes sir, they are.” He got off of the vehicle and moved to the man, “hmm...” he pondered and walked to the back of the early car. He checked through the crates and boxes. “Yup everything we ordered.” He stated, clearly acting like he was all it, but John knew someone this young could never run such an establishment. John nodded, and opened his mouth. “Do you uh, have an-” he was suddenly distracted by the door of the larges house opening, creaking slightly. He saw a much older man, who he assumed to be this boy’s father. John shuffled awkwardly as he approached.
“Hey there! This our stuff?” The older man inquired. “Yes, pa” the younger said. “Excellent good.”
He handed John his pay. “You a new employee, son?” That made more sense. “Yes sir- well no sir, I’m- I’m actually looking for work here, I was just doing it for the store owner for some cash on the side.” John explained. The ranch owner looked at John, then around the ranch, scanning all that was around him. “So, you got any work?” He asked again. “Some, is it just you?” The owner inquired.
“No sir, it’s uh- my wife, and my boy- he uh, no. We got- we were robbed and- well my wife just wanted a new start.”
He nodded again, “we don’t normally have married hands working here.” He put it simply. John furrowed his brows. “I can understand that sir, but we will a work, even my boy. We’ll do just about anything.” He tried to convince him, he knew if they didn’t have a stable place soon, Abigail would dump his ass. And take Jack with him. “You’re seeming pretty desperate.” The man told him.
John sighed. He couldn’t disagree with him there. He put his hands up his head and simply shrugged. “I am a little desperate” his voice quivered with laughter, though he didn’t find it funny. In fact, quite the opposite.
“David Geddes.” He declared. Rather proudly, declared. “I’ll give you a shot, you say you’ll work hard I ought to believe you.” Mr. Geddes shook his hand, John smiled and thanked him. “J-Jim, Jim Milton sir, thank you for this. It really helps.” He lauded.
“Alright alright son, for now, can you go help out our stablehand? Seems he’s been having some trouble with a particular mare lately, and the way you drove in... just seems you’d be able to help.” He exclaimed. “Be a good way to show us what you’re made of.” He finished.
John said a quick “yes sir” and looked to the light oak stable he had seen earlier. By no surprise, a man stood by one of the horses, the horse was a tall, white shire horse. And the man, was also tall-looking, but from the distance he was at, John could never tell definitively. He walked to the stable, getting closer, he realised the man was taller than him, but not by too much. “Hey!” He called, and the man turned. Both their eyes went wide. The phrase ‘O’driscoll’ crosses John’s mind, but it has all been so long ago, he couldn’t recall why. “Kieran? Kieran Duffy?”
“Si-sir?” Kieran barked back, with the same astounded confusion John held.
John smiled, a toothy grin. Not necessarily because he had seen Kieran, but because for a moment, the shortest, and sweetest of moments, John made the mistake of thinking everything was okay, and that it was all just a bad dream. But it wasn’t, and the smirk was slapped off of his face, as a reminder not to do things like that. As punishment.
“W-what you doing here?! Where did-how did-?” John tried to form a coherent sentence. All had assumed Kieran to be dead after he didn’t return to Shady Belle for weeks. “Well, I was taken by the O’driscolls...” ah, that’s why the phrase crossed his mind. “And when I managed to get away, you all had left.” Kieran said, still smiling. “It’s good to see you alive then.” John told him, he meant it. From the bottom of his heart. And you know why. You do.
“It’s good to see you too, sir.” Kieran grinned. He meant it. From the bottom of his heart. “Oh enough of that!” John joked. “It’s John, Kieran. Not Sir. I ain’t above you.” He moved to pat Kieran on the back, he was so sure he was dead, touching him, that felt stange to him. “Okay, John.” On Kieran’s tounge, it didn’t seem right. He had never said the name before, and he had just said it to someone who looked down on him for all the time he had known him, all the very short time. They had never been equals. “So what you need me to do?”
“Oh, right, uh,” Kieran handed him a brush. “Try your luck at that one over there.” He pointed to a small, navy-black, horse. “I been havin’ trouble with her. Ain’t sure if it’s just me.” He addmitted. John took it and tutted, “You? Why on earth would it be you?” He asked, as he walked to the horse. “If I remember right, you was always the one to deal with the horses.” John told him.
Kieran laughed. He agreed. “I did like their horses, if not them.” He said, feeding the large horse a small fistful of hay, before moving to a saddle. John, throughout this, had been brushing the horse like it was nothing. He had wondered why.
“Speaking of...” Kieran hinted. “How is everyone? Where are y’all stayin’ now?” He questioned, John froze up and struggled to find a way to tell him what had happened. “Uh, John?”
“We uh,” he started, still trying to claw at something. Kieran frowned in confusion and suspicion. “We split up, all gone our separate ways.” He explained, unsure. Kieran moved his eyes around. He tried to imagine that. While he was slightly injured by it, he wasn’t surprised. “And your family?” He asked. He knew it was a soft spot, but he had learned, if you’re addressing a soft spot topic, use a soft voice. So he did.
“They’re all well, in fact we’re gonna be moving in here.” He stated. Kieran smiled. “Well that’s amazing! Maybe I won’t be so lonely.” He chuckled. But stopped soon enough.
“What about the women? They all okay?” Kieran kept the queries flowing. “Yes, yes, I believe all made it out alive.”
Kieran asked John about all in camp, avoiding one name. But at the end, when all names were out, Kieran wanted to know. And John knew he wanted to know.
“And Mr. Arthur?” Kieran voiced weakly, already knowing what he was going to say.
Kieran had seen Arthur’s illness grow. He had seen illnesses like so before, and already had him down for dead. It made him upset. Like most things but this, really made him upset. He may not have been exactly kind to him, but he saved his life, and he had saved his. And there were times where Arthur was nice to him. When nobody was around.
John turned to face him. “Arthur uh, Arthur died. That cough really... really caught up to him.” He placed his hand on the back of his neck, distressed.
Kieran looked down, away from John’s eyes. “That’s... that is... thats-” Kieran stammered. “I can agree, it was... tough. He was my brother, you know.” Kieran nodded. He did know. “Yeah, yeah. He was a good man. Underneath all that. He was kind.” He said, falling weak.
“He saved my life and I could not save his.” Kieran finished.
“Weren’t much we could have done.” John told. And Keiran knew, he knew that but, he still knew a few helping ways to cope.
“So how’d you end up here?”
John and Kieran spent a good hour taking, talking of their lives. Their pasts, their presents and their futures. Kieran highly enjoyed it, and so did John. They did so until the blue sky was being blended pink like paint. John left on that same wagon and waved at, no, to him. Kieran’s light, fine hair blew in the wind. John saw what Arthur saw in him. He rode back to strawberry. He saw Abigail and Jack sat and he pulled to a stop.
“You took your time.” Abigail laughed.
“Yeah well, got me a job, and us a temporary place to stay.” He informed her. Abigail laughed and hugged him. “Well that’s amazin’!” She yelled. Jack kinda just stood there awkwardly, smiling to himself as he looked at the floor. They pulled away.
“Oh, saw that Kieran boy too.”
“What?! But I thought he-” Abigail was cut off. “We all did, but he said he just ran away after being captured. Came back to camp, and we were all gone.”
Abigail felt bad, leaving him like that. So did John. So did Jack and so did all of the members of the fallen group.
They pitied him as unknowingly brushed yet another horse. Smiling.
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Lockdown Diary Part 1
A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.
23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.
Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.
Day 1: Last night Boris called it, today we’re doing it. I had started working from home (wfh) yesterday as had most people at my work (RCI)..last week I had been preparing laptops as fast as poss for everyone. Even just today, the idea of going into work seems alien and dangerous. Now lockdown (ld) means that it would soon be illegal to do so unless utterly necessary.
Online, FaceBook (fb) especially, is awash with reaction…a lot of calling out people who are out and about in greater numbers than 2, which is against ld rules.
Day 2: Just trying to let work occupy my thoughts and time which is easy enough ‘cos everyone I support (IT engineer) is new to wfh and is having teething problems with all the new laptops. Meanwhile, I keep abreast of comings and goings online…actually socially interacting more than I might otherwise, weirdly
Day 3: Highlight of the day is an online quiz organised by a chap called Jay Flynn on fb…a bunch of us took it as individuals while chatting on Messenger while Jay streamed quiz over fb live and YouTube. It was a good crack and I had two cans of Coors Light which got me pissed!
Day 4: Work is still mad - so many people with IT issues wfh…it’s challenging trying resolve all these probelms remotely but I am rising to it. I actually enjoy it. It satisfies my want for problem-solving.
The ld is in full swing but it’s very early days. The news is dominated, obviously, by Covid-19 and the ever changing stats of infections and deaths. Today, for example, the USA took over, from China, as the country with the most infections. I know there will be an end to all this and I am determined to be there, going out, getting pissed down the pub, gigging, shaking hands with my mates, hugging anyone and everyone who’ll let me - it’ll be a proper party. But I am filled with a dread that it’s going to be a fucking long time coming.
This evening was spent virtually with Foggy, Ham and Andy P…doing a quiz - a rehearsal for Foggy in the hope of doing one to a wider audience next week. It was good fun and great to have a few beers chatting with everyone, Later I video called Fog and we drank ‘til gone midnight, putting the world to rights. I was well pissed.
Day 5: First non-work day of the ld. Housework, daily walk, out for supplies (drop a script order off…queuing outside boots for 15 minues!, bread, baccy and booze). This evening, I’m listening to the next album in NME list of 1985 albums I’m working through - Grace Jones Slave to the Rhythm…fucking pain in the arse ‘cos it’s not on Spotify so I am searching for each song, in order, on YouTube. Plus eating and drinking, of course. Quick video chat with karen and Grace, Dan in the background. I wanted a tin of kidney beans for chilli but Karen hasn’t got one ffs. Burger it is. They are all playing scrabble - I’d love to join in…
Day 6: A quiet day…housework, cooking, daily walk. Highlight was a half hour chinwag with dad who, as I would expect, despite his 84 years, is coping and doing just fine. Most other people with a dad that age would have, on top of their own concerns, something more to worry about during this crisis….for me, it feels like I’ve got someone to turn to, should I need to.
Day 7: Work is starting to feel more routine but it’s a long way off being in the office, which is never routine anyway. That may seem surprising since I do IT support but it’s a varied role, especially at the modern dinosaur of an organisation that is RCI. I try to be as disciplined as possible but I miss not dressing for work, not driving to work, not needing to actually prepare lunch (until lunchtime). I don’t actually need to shower every morning. I don’t think I have to ordinarily but do because I’m mixing with others in the office. I certainly don;t need to now. I only mix with me, so showering becomes a chore but I’m doing it every other morning in the name of the aforementioned discipline.
I am worried how long RCI can keep going before laying staff off. I dread being out of work full stop, let alone during this ld, or even thereafter. I think the economies of the world will need time to recover so finding work will be tough à la 2008. I think, if lay-offs were to occur, I’d be in real danger. Last in first out and all that. But, I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it.
Day 8: At work there was a large online meeting whereby the MD told us that RCI are going to furlough some staff. The UK, and Ireland staff will be consulted this coming Thursday and Friday (it’s Tuesday today). I shall be reading up on what the furlough arrangements are in the UK due to Covid-19. I know the government have set aside some money, I need to know what I might get paid and how to claim it. In the past, when I’ve been out of work, I’ve been entitled to jack shit other than JSA, This time around, should I be laid off as I expect, I might not have to eat into my savings, fingers crossed. Meanwhile, I have decided to knock up another blog with a photo of myself each day of the ld (from now on) - it’s a sister to this diary.
Day 9: Actually typing this on day 10. Yesterday was a strange day as I contemplate being furloughed (hope for the best, expect the worst)…I’d be paid 80% of my wage according to what the government have said to assist in the Covid-19 crisis…so, were that to be true, I’d be OK money-wise, although still earning way less than I want to prepared for retirement (I am currently still waiting for feedback on a pay increase request I put in at work last year!) I’m more worried about how I would fill my day if I wasn’t working. So, that being said, I flopped and moped about all yesterday evening after my daily walk and, without achieving much at all, didn’t find time to write this entry on the right day…so maybe I can fill my days without much effort!
Day 10: I was furloughed today, starting 5pm tomorrow (Friday 3rd April) and it’s fucked me off. I know it’s not personal but, actually, do I? They’re cutting back the Kettering Desktop team by one, redacted It seems obvious to do this by the ‘last in, first out’ maxim but what about money? others are on more than me (redacted). What about offering it voluntarily - others might go for 80% pay for fuck all - others have family at home to occupy the day (redacted) . A little bit of me thinks it might be preferable furlough me (redacted) …others seems to be a favourite and that annoys me. It annoys me because I think I shoot myself in the foot too often. I’m too vocal about some of the (redacted) decisions and practices at work, plus other reasons that I know but can’t be bothered to type. But, my point, is I don’t play the politically correct, corporate game and therefore forget to look out for my own best interests. FUCK.
So, as of tomorrrow evening, I’ve no work to do. The challenge will be to find a way to occupy my day. I’ve already registered to volunteer for the NHS during the ld…let’s see what becomes of that. And I’ve signed up for web development course.
I’m going to get fucking pissed this w/e, starting early tomorrow evening.
Day 11: It’s day 12 as I am writing this entry…that might tell any reader, and remind me, that I did as I promised and got pretty drunk. I spent the day geting my work affairs in order i.e. clearing down support tickets assigned to me. I did a good job, nothing left to handover to the remaining team (Jim, Cristina and Mark) and onky one ticket put into the assigned pool. Some nice converstaions were had with associates, many of whom are, too, being furloughed. Nice words were said and Jim and Mark both were supportive in conversations and messages - they both know I don’t wnat this and, I think, they are both relieved it’s not happening to them.
5 pm arrives and I shutdown my work laptop for the last time for at least 12 weeks. After my daily walk, I video chat with Karen, crack open a beer, make Chinese chicken curry (fucking loads, fucking tasty), finish watching The National Theatre stream of One Man, Two Guvnors (really good, see twoinchreview) and the caught up with, and talked bollocks with Andy, Marc and Ham - we tried getting Rog in on it, no dice. I then watched The Heat (I fucking love that film), ate some more, smoked several single-skinners, drank, in total, three cans, seven bottles. I went to bed shortly after 4am. I felt resigned to my furlough and pleasantly wasted.
Day 12: A subdued day…didn’t wake until gone 1:30pm. Jaded but not really suffering. Mooched about, social media, listening to music, watching telly, farting about on the iPad.
My daily walk, over the last fews days, has taken a twist…I am trying to run parts of it. Mainly short distances, 80-100m (I estimate) three, maybe four times. It’s fucking knackering me out. I used to run everywhere when I was a teen. Attempting to run now just makes me feel fucking old. Well, I am, so that’s about right.
Day 13: Another day like yesterday except I got up at 10:30 and didn’t feel jaded. The subdued feeling comes from the realsiation that the ld isn’t being treated as seriously as it should be across the board. The news and even posts by locals on FB (Oundle chatter group) suggest groups still meeting up. The weather this w/e has been a factor - 17°c today. I think a total ld will be enforced soon and that would fuck me off. My daily walk is pretty essential for me nowadays not least for the ‘good for your soul’ benefits that dad has always mentioned. Even today’s walk saw a car parked at the gates to the field on the way to Ashton and people on a blanket soaking up the sun, dogs off their leads and people (looked like a family) playing footy on South Road field.
Individually they are not presenting any danger, what with the fact they are either living together or far away from others. But they are flaunting the rules and the more that happens the less likely they’ll carry on getting away with it, which will mean total ld for all!
I finished the 50 1985 albums today. It mostly confirms to me that I only listened to two albums released that year (Kate Bush, The Waterboys) any other vinyl I spun would have already been in my collection pre-85.
The sausage casserole I made for tea was fucking lush - 4 birdeye chillies.
I saw and spoke with Dan and Grace this morning, they were just coming back from a walk. I am pleased to fuck they are together and sorted out the issues they had earlier this year.
Day 14: My first day proper of furlough. Finished my two inch review of the NME 50 albums. Long chat with Rita, quick one with dad. Messaged Sam about Romiley’s present - she’s 10 on the 9th April (Thursday) - ordered some Lego thing from Amazon. Turned the car engine over (reminded myself the driver-side wing mirror is fucked) and moved it to another spot in the Co-op car park - bumped into Matt T. He’s struggling - no work coming in and he can’t claim any of the money on offer ‘cos he’s not being totally honest about his circumstances - made me realise I’m not that bad off…..but I feel depressed about it all, especially with the news that Boris has gone into intensive care.
Day 15: I began a diploma (?) course on web design with Shaw Academy (it was free). They have actual classes (which are recorded) which you schedule yourself. The first one was, I have to say, really interesting - I look forward to continuing.
On my walk today, I saw a car parked at the gate to the field at the bottom of Riverside Close; it was branded with Cunninghams Estate Agent with a 01536 number. I am pretty sure I saw the driver walking her dog (unleashed) on the field. I took a photo and rang the number. Yes, I ratted the culprit out…fucking annoys me that I had to. Better than reporting to the police, all round. Hopefully her work will put a stop to her doing it and, the more people that adhere to the rules without the police getting wind of infractions, the more likely we’ll be able to continue to exercise away from home.
Day16: More online learning including checking out other sites (pluralsight) for more learning opportunities. Coded my first web page, basic but mine, in HTML and CSS.
A few beers & smokes and watching White Boy Rick in the evening, interspersed with the usual social media / messaging shit, incuding this entry, of course!
Day 17: Typing this on Day 18. After a few beers last night while chatting with Fog (twice - the first chat ended with him ‘having’ to go to bed. Later, I noticed he was commenting on FB, so I video called him…round two of chatting!). I got quite fucking pissed. Bed around 4am.
Day18: Up at 1pm. Long walk today, 7 km. Anything over 40 minutes, I’ve realised, results in a hypo.
Day19: Well, having gone to bed at gone 5am I got up at nearly 1pm feeling far better than I should have. Breakfast followed by a walk, spoke with Karen (mowing her front lawn) and Dan. He and Grace have split up which is sad news but he seems OK.
Went shopping (milk and sweets) and ended up with a shit load of booze, the post of which on FB was quite amusing.
Homemade burgers for tea (they’re in the fridge as I type) - gonna try and make Five Guys…
Day20: The Five Guys burger attempt didn’t go as well as I wanted. I think less than 5% fat mince just doesn’t bind that well. However, I managed to get something resembling a burger into the bun and, with cheese, hot sauce and jalapeños, it was tasty enough. More of the same when I finish typing this entry.
Strange Easter Day today, as I knew it would be. The best thing I saw today was a video Tom posted on FB of him and Molly doing a mashup of Starsailor and George Michael - Tom on guitar singing the former, Molly singing the latter. It was fucking fantatstic.
Day 21: Easter Monday. Surreal…it’s feeling very surreal now, this lockdown.
Two things that bother me right now:
i) The political point scoring on FB. I get it, I really do…people like to bring up ‘obvious’ failings in the party’s mistakes. For example, Marc posting comparisons between UK and Germany’s figures of cases and deaths due to Covid-19. I doesn’t make impressive reading for the government and it should be held accountable. But not fucking now!
ii) Will they introduce rotational furloughing at RCI? It’s only been a week, 11 to go. And, it bothers me that I was furloughed rather than Mark. Pathetic of me, I know! But, should it last the 12 week stretch, I want to go back to work and let someone else have the chance to have fuck all to do all day! That being said, I’m still learning web design through Shaw Academy. Even today, bank holiday, I revised Lesson 2.
Day22: Nice catchup with Dad today - he and Rita seem to be more than OK with lockdown. I actually cannot wait until we can meet up at The Farmers again!
Day 23: While I had a Corvee engineer come to the house today to do a gas safety check (I waited upstairs while he was here, self-isolation and all that), and had the fourth online web design lesson, had a trip to Boots to pick up insulin, got milk from Tesco’s, saw American Rachel and had a chat (while we both queued to get into Tesco’s) and had a very nice walk along a different route from the norm, in the pleasant sunshine and watched Contagion on Netflix - all today - I AM STILL BORED AS FUCK!
Day 24: I had plans for today - revise the last two lessons of Shaw Academy’s web design course, investigate a ethical hacking course, do some washing, clean upstairs (or at least the bathroom) plus all the usual stuff. Then, as a reward, have some beers.
Well, guess what. I am not having beers this evening. I managed the laundry. Plus I manged to subtitle my YouTube perfect snabby video (something I have been meaning to do for a while, but, come on!) It took me fucking ages. But it is funny!
So, a fucking far from fruitful day. Plus the government announced at least 3 more weeks of lockdown. There’ll be loads more, I reckon.
Tomorrow…I promise I’ll be better tomorrow…
Day 25: I did do better! Firstly the Corveee man fucked the boiler which I only noticed late yesterday but still managed to get sorted today. I did some excellent revision and learning of HTML (tags) and CSS. I cleaned the bathroom and hall. And I discovered TikTok (fucking excellent dancing and funny vids) plus discovered a new FaceBook word game (Sam sent me an invite) called WordBlitz and I am pretty good. Having beers now (nearly 11pm).
Day 26: Today I found myself calling 111. I had a pain in my side last night, I thought it might be constipation! That not being the case (!), today I went to 111.nhs.uk and, following their questions, it recommended I seek out a GP straightaway. Once I let the website know that is not possible, it directed me to visit walk in centres. I spoke with Karen thereafter - for advice about whether it’s a good idea to enter such an establishment - I really don’t want to increase me chances of catching the Covid-19 virus. Karen recommended ringing 111 since the website does not take into account my diabetes (so bloody sensible a suggestion!)
After ringing and answering many questions, the lady said she’d get an OOHS GP to call. The doctor called soon after and it seems most likely I have a grumbling appendix (chronic appendicitis) and to ring again (well, 999) if the pain becomes unbearable.
I now have a bag at the ready for hospital which I really hope I don’t have to use.
Today, I have, therefore, done fuck all - not even a walk - but I am having a beer now (midnight) and shall attempt to sleep as well as possible and hope this pain subsides naturally…
It occurs to me that I turn to Karen when things become flumoxing - my excuse, this time, is she works at the surgery but that was mere convenience.
Day 27: My ‘appendicitis pain was the same when I woke up (10:20) but no worse. I managed to change bed clothes and clean my bedroom but didn’t risk a walk (in case something drastic happens when I’m in a fucking field).
People’s responses and questions online have been heartening (Rachel Harris, Susie Grange, Bethan, Jo, Tracey Weber, Debbie De Prisco and, not least Dan). As the day progresses, I feel better but not right. I spoke with Dad about it and, as I told him, I shall ring Oundle GP tomorrow. Meanwhile, I did Sam Clew’s FB Live quiz, which was good, and am now having a beer or two.
Day 28: The pain in my side has definitley diminished. I called the Oundle surgery today to talk about what treatment I should have for ‘grumbling appendicitis’. The reseptionist organised a call back from a GP - Dr. Cash. Basically, he said he didn’t believe the condition existed, that acute appendicitis doesn’t happen after the age of 35, and ‘his gut felling’ is it will all just clear up.
I shall seek a more sensible diagnosis after lockdown and hope it doesn’t flare up again before then.
Day 29: I sent an email to the team at work today (Jim, Mark, Cristina and Sueanne). I hadn’t heard from them and I wanted to check in and, also, make a point that I will be posing the ‘rotational furlough’ question to HR at some point. It was as I wrote the email that I realised it’s only been two weeks and two days of furlough, and that includes Easter! Seems so much fucking longer. Anyway, everyone replied and it was good to hear from them….Mark came off his bike and broke ribs and collarbone!
Lesson 5 of the Web Design course with Shaw Academy. It’s becoming apparent that, if you don’t pay for the course ‘toolkit’ it’s all rather patchy! The instructor dives into lines of code (HTML, CSS and Java) with no explanation….I feel like I did on the ifrst lesson of further maths ate Stamford School! I shall soldier on and beef up the missing parts with W3Schools (a great website and learning aid for coding).
Two quick points. I am no longer running any part of my daily walk; hurts too much. I am addicted to Wordblitz and TikTok.
Day30: I am writing this on day 31, I just forgot yesterday! It was a non eventful day. I did watch Midnight Run (again!) and had a couple of midweek beers though.
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( reposted from my about page in a reblogabble form w/ formatting changes. if you find the formatted version visually difficult or irritating to read, the unformatted version is on the about page! this & the about page will be updated as i learn more things about my muse. )
for the most part, my portrayal will follow the canon of star trek: alternate original series. however, here are some things i’ve added to my version of jim.
trigger warnings: abuse, starvation, murder, death, ptsd, traumatic mutism, bipolar disorder, & eating disorder.
triggers are bolded at the beginning of each section so that you can skip over anything that may be triggering for you. if you’d like a summary of any part that you skipped over, feel free to ask me! i can change things around, to a certain extent, so that we can write together.
1. tw: abuse. jim & his stepfather, frank, were not on the best of terms. ever since frank had come into his life, jim had despised him. there was just something about the way he treated winona that jim didn’t like. he’d only given the guy a chance at his mother’s request, something which he sorely regretted after she married him. when winona went back to starfleet, sam ran away from home & jim was left with frank & his abusive tendencies. it started just bad moods & snide remarks, but the remarks got worse with time. words became stronger, louder. they were picked more carefully, picked to tear the young boy apart. & as if that wasn’t enough, frank shoved him, hit him, even made him bleed. the effects of this abuse still haunt jim, but he’s been healing with time & distance.
2. tw: starvation, murder, death. after jim had stolen & wrecked frank’s car, frank unilaterally enrolled jim in the earth colony on tarsus iv. winona had no knowledge of this decision, as she was off-world with starfleet. the distance was freeing, at first. he was glad to be out from under frank’s thumb at last. on tarsus iv, he was able to live the kind of childhood he’d wanted. for a time, he was happy. he did well in school, he played sports, he had friends — he thrived. but unfortunately, it didn’t last.
famine fell over the colony as an exotic fungus destroyed their food supply. suddenly, paradise had become hell. as colonists panicked & worried, riots began to break out. jim ran from the facility he’d been living at with the few children he knew that were now or previously orphaned, & they stuck together for as long as they could. naturally, he took charge of the small group, organizing them in a way that would benefit the group the most. he & the older children would scavenge for food while those younger would stay together & hide.
it worked for a short while, but like the rest of those who had survived the first wave of death, their group began to succumb as well. jim tried his best to care for them all. he made sure they had first pick of the food, & he only ate as much as he needed to survive another day. he did everything he could to make sure they survived. there are things he did there that he’ll never speak of.
but the worst of it all was how he killed to save them. the first time, he didn’t sleep for days. he felt so ill he could barely move, but he had to. he had to take care of the others. it got a little easier with time, but it was always a last resort. in the end, though, he lost most of them to starvation or illness or both. by the end, it was only him & kevin riley left.
they were eventually forced to rejoin a larger group out of necessity when kevin fell ill. jim refused to let the young boy die too. with help from the larger group, they were able to nurse him back to relative health. but that’s when it happened.
governor kodos, under the pretense of aid, divided the remaining colonists into two groups. unbeknownst to them, the division would cost 4,000 colonists their lives. kodos had separated the survivors based on strength & likelihood of survival. those who were stronger & more likely to survive were allowed to live. those who were weaker & less likely were executed. jim was one of nine eyewitnesses to the execution.
supply ships arrived too late to save the 4,000 sentenced to death, but when they arrived, jim & the remaining orphaned children were sent home to earth. to this day, jim still has ptsd & nightmares about life on tarsus iv & the execution of 4,000 innocent survivors.
3. tw: ptsd, traumatic mutism. following the traumatic events on tarsus iv, jim & kevin returned to earth & were placed into the care of jim’s mother, who had returned as soon as she had learned of the famine & that frank had sent jim there. at that point, she was in the process of divorcing frank, & she filed for a restraining order on her & jim’s behalf.
jim regularly saw a child psychologist to help him through his ptsd. directly following the events of the tarsus iv massacre, jim went without speaking for about a month. his psychologist assured his mother that he would speak when he was ready, & that it was his mind’s way of coping with what happened.
additionally, for years after his return from tarsus iv, jim would hide scraps of food around the house. this was both to convince his mother that he was finishing his meals & out of fear that another famine could occur at any moment.
with time & support, his symptoms have nearly disappeared, but he will occasionally have periods of ptsd related distress, specifically in the form of nightmares & anxiety, even in adulthood.
4a. tw: bipolar disorder. while at starfleet academy, jim began to act out of the ordinary. some days, he found it difficult to get out of bed. or when he did, he felt incredibly numb & unable to enjoy all the things he loved to do. some days, he couldn’t sleep at all & stayed out all night, & he could become incredibly irritible at the drop of a hat. there was no obvious reason as to why he behaved these ways, so jim hadn’t seen them as a problem at the time. but as these behaviors & others began to exhibit themselves, jim’s friends became increasingly worried about him. leonard mccoy was especially concerned.
being jim’s roommate & best friend, leonard had a hard time standing by & allowing jim to push himself into riskier & riskier situations. shortly after leonard had expressed this concerns, jim began to see that he was right. he had been denying any problems he’d been facing for far too long, & he needed to confront them instead. so, with a lot of coaxing from leonard, jim made an appointment to see one of starfleet academy’s mental health professionals.
the process of diagnosis didn’t happen overnight. in fact, it took many weeks before they reached any sort of conclusion. but when they did, it was then that jim learned he had bipolar disorder. ( this form is likely bipolar II disorder. source: here. ) at the time, he was unsure of what this meant, but he was assured by the counseling team that with some help & support, he would be able to manage his moods better.
for the rest of his time at the academy, he continued attending weekly therapy sessions & tried out different medications until he & his therapist were satisfied he’d found the right one. while friends came & went, leonard was there every step of the way.
by the time he was given command of the enterprise, he was mentally in a much healthier state. but that doesn’t mean he never struggled. currently, he does what he can to manage his symptoms, but he’s human, & he can’t always handle them as well as he would like to. but with the help & support of his close friends, his therapist, & a strict self-imposed therapy plan, he generally manages well. ( for more information on bipolar disorder, go here. many of the items in the chart of signs & symptoms apply to jim during the corresponding episodes. )
4b. tw: abuse, eating disorder, bipolar disorder. as a result of growing up with a physically, verbally, & emotionally abusive step-father, jim occasionally has trouble when it comes to taking care of himself. specifically, he has a mild form of anorexia & struggles with eating enough food. this tendency seems to stem from the traumatic events of tarsus iv & childhood self-esteem issues brought on by his step-father, who often made negative comments about his weight when he was young.
this disordered eating has gotten better with time & effort, but he is more likely to relapse during depressive & manic episodes of his bipolar disorder. during depressive episodes, his self-esteem is lowered & he begins to worry about his weight. this causes him to eat very little. during manic episodes, he can be moving so quickly & erratically that he forgets to eat.
even when he is not experiencing symptoms of an episode, he can have trouble with food. as a result of his time spent in crisis on tarsus iv, he rarely eats a full meal. he feels that there must be other people who need food more than he does, so he can go without for them. it’s a habit, a destructive thought he’s been trying to break, but it’s been years & he still has trouble. with a lot of coaxing & assurance, he can finish a meal, but he never feels truly great about it. he has, however, broken his habit of hiding large quantities of food.
5. on a lighter note, jim has a cat! her name is rosie & he adores her. he found her during one of the enterprise’s pit stops when she stowed away on the ship. he loves her so much that no one has had the heart to remind him that it’s not exactly allowed.
she is very affectionate & serves as an emotional support animal for jim as well as an unofficial therapy cat for most of the bridge crew, as those are the crewmembers closest to jim.
rosie is a special cat as well. she has the ability to walk on walls & ceilings, & she is often found hiding on one of those surfaces when she wants some alone time. additionally, her eyes & fur appear to sparkle a bit, like she was bathed in stars.
6. jim is very respectful of women. ( fuck you, j.j. abrams. ) therefore, that scene where he hid under gaila’s bed and saw nyota undressing? jim may have seen nyota, but he immediately looked away. same goes for that scene with carol marcus changing. james. tiberius. kirk. respects. women.
7. follow these links for romance & sex headcanons.
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Please may I request “You fainted, straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” for Ralon! I miss that charming, handsome lad.
Now, because Ralon has no canon pairing, I went with the one character who seems to be absolutely everywhere, because odds are their paths would have crossed...
So here we have it! Ralon and... Scout Jim. In which it is an abnormally hot day, and Scout Jim is not coping well running messages in his hood-and-scarf combo. (Approx 1400 words, most under the cut)
“Sir Lavellan, message for you! Sir!” Scout Jim snapped intoa salute, eyes staring intently, unblinkingly,at Hanin. The tall elven man turned, green eyes gleaming almost dangerously,and Jim swore he felt his knees start to shake. “A-Apologies, Sir!”
How many ‘Sirs’ wasthat? Oh, Maker...
“What is it?” Hanin demanded shortly, turning away from hissquad to stalk over, his heavy boots thudding on the ground. Jim hastily held out apiece of paper in a trembling hand and Hanin snatched it, eyes narrowing as heread. After a few moments of displeased scrutiny, he folded it up and handed it back dismissively. “Tell Leliana I need moreinformation than that before I’ll agree to anything. I understand she trades insecrets, but I am not sending my squad out with only half the details.”
Swallowing tightly, Jim nodded, then turned, hurrying backto the Nightingale. At the top of her tower. Up so, so many stairs.
Maker, why...
When Scout Jim returned for the second time, he was already sweating. The morning was fast growing hot, and with his military-issuehood-and-scarf combo, he swore he was basting like a turkey. “S… Sir Lavellan…?”he puffed as he jogged back onto the training grounds, feeling strangely self-conscious about his running form. The Captain was mid-sparwith a younger man at the other end of the field. Antivan and quick to smile, he actually seemed to be enjoy trading blows with the elvenwarrior. He was the one who noticed Jim and signaled to the Captain. They paused, panting, as Jim approached.
That terrifying glare locked onto Jim almost immediately, and the scout nearly knocked himselfout in his haste to salute. “What now?” Hanin demanded, wiping a hand acrosshis brow, settling his training weapon on his shoulder. Behind him, the youngerman leaned around his Captain’s broad form to peer curiously at Jim.
“Damn... you look like you’ve been running laps,” he noted, thenflashed a reassuring smile, as if to say relax.“Want a drink? Got a waterskin somewhere nearby…”
“Ralon,” Hanin interrupted, glancing back at the man,ignoring Jim for a moment, “go join Darren and Connors. Practice defending fromtwo opponents.”
Smirking, Ralon gave a lazy salute. “Yes sir.” He tossed Jim an apologetic look. ”Hey, don’t go working yourself too hard, all right?” Jim felt his cheeks instantly heat up as Ralon winked then turned to do as instructed,jogging off to meet up with his squadmates.
Then, it was just Jim and Hanin again. The poor scoutwanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole. Anything to be away from that glare. “Well?” Hanin asked, nodding to the parchment. “What is it?”
“O-Oh, right! Sorry, Sir! Um, the Leliana wanted me to give you this. S-Sir.”
The Leliana? What?Jim tried to cover his blunder by practically shoving the piece of paper intoHanin’s waiting hands, hoping desperately that he hadn’t sweated on it toomuch. Unfortunately, it seemed he had, because the Captain frowned at it for a moment beforeholding it up, trying to catch the light and decipher the smudged ink. Breathless, Jim just stared as heread, hoping quietly that this would be the end of it. Unfortunately, his stomach sank tothe soles of his feet as Hanin’s frown deepened.
“It is still not enough. Have her send me our orders. In full. Once Ihave that, I will give her my final answer.”
Was it unprofessional to cry while running messages? Jimwasn’t sure, so he swallowed the devastated lump in his throat and took offagain, jogging painfully back to the rookery.
Why, WHY couldn’t Leliana justhave an office at ground level?
Ralon was taking a break from the sparring, washing down thestale taste of dry air when he noticed that scout from the corner of his eye.The poor bastard was loping towards the training field like he’d been shot with an arrow three hours ago and was on the verge of bleeding out. Lowering his waterskin,Ralon glanced over at Hanin, determined the man was busy showing Darren how todisengage properly from a parry, and then jogged over to the fence’s gate.
“Hey, slow down there,” he teased as the scout draggedhimself to the fence, dragging in ragged, uneven breaths. “You look about twosteps short of keeling over.”
“T… Think… I am,”the poor guy puffed, red-faced and looking a little feverish. “C… Could you… message… Captain…?”
The inflection at the end of the broken sentence left Ralon thinking it was some sort of question. It wasn’t until the scout jutted out a shaking arm, a piece of dampparchment clutched in his hand, that the request finally made sense. “Oh,” he said, stepping closer. “You wantme to bring this to Hanin? Sure, I can do that. You just… sit down or---WHOA!”
Just as Ralon stepped forward to take the parchment, thescout suddenly tipped, eyes rolling back, his legs going limp beneath him. Instinct tookover and Ralon lunged, managing to catch him, the papers fluttering to the groundas he held the limp scout in his arms. Carefully, concerned, Ralon lowered the manto the grass, tugging off his hood and scarf in an effort to help cool him down.
“Hey…” Ralon leaned forward, cupping the scout’s cheek, concerned by how hot his skin was. “Shit... youwith me, buddy?”
After receiving no response, Ralon shifted, about to turnand call out to one of his squadmates to get a healer, when a soft groan drewhis attention back to the fallen scout…
What happened?Scout Jim could feel the blood pulsing in his ears as he groaned, the soundedseeming strangely distant despite it coming from his own throat. He made to situp, only for someone to rest a hand on his shoulder.
“Easy there, friend. Try to stay still for a bit.”
The voice was vaguely familiar, and when Jim turned hishead, he caught sight of a handsome face leaning over him, just a few shortinches away from his own. There was a pinch to the man’s brow – concern – and Jim blinked a few times, trying to reassert hisdominance over his own faculties. “Gotta…” he mumbled, groping blindly in the grass beside him. “... message…”
The man blinked as if in surprise, and then chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it. We’re going to be taking baby steps for a while here.” Jim didn’t argue as the man slipped a supporting hand behind his neck. “Let’s get you sitting up, first, then some water into you, okay? On three.One… Two…”
True to expectation, the man helped Jim sit up on the countof three, manoeuvring him until he was propped against the fence. The nextthing Jim knew, a waterskin was being pushed gently into his hands, already unstoppered.
“W… What happened?” Jim mumbled, shakily raising it to hislips and taking a small sip. The water was warm, now, but Jim hardly cared.
The man, who Jim now recognised as Ralon, flashed abrilliant grin. “You fainted, straight into my arms.” He laughed brightly asJim's face immediately turned a startling shade of red. “You know, if you wanted myattention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes. Hey, Ralon works too.”
“I-I-I-I-I—” Jim spluttered, at a complete loss for words,his tongue suddenly feeling about as graceful as a druffolo in a corset.
Say something charming! Be witty, dammit!
“S…Sorry, Ralon.”
Shit.
But to his surprise, Ralon just relaxed into an easier smile, reaching out to pat him comfortingly on the shoulder. Hishand lingered for a moment, and then he offered a squeeze of solidarity before reaching back tosnag the message from where it had landed on the grass. “You’re okay. Just stay put fora bit, yeah? I’ll pass this on to Hanin then take you to the infirmary.”
Jim gawped at him, not sure what to say. We don’teven know each other?
“I… that’s okay, really. You don’t have… to…” Awkwardly, Jim trailedoff, realising that Ralon was already in the process of jogging across thefield. As it turned out, Captain Hanin received the message far more agreeably from Ralon; Jim evenmade out the word thank youand had to fight to suppress his indignation. Ralon motioned back towardswhere Jim was currently collapsed by the fence, and Hanin’s brow snapped backinto his traditional frown as he squinted in the indicated direction. However, to Jim’s surprise, the elven man just nodded, and Ralon returned, a lightsheen of sweat adorning his skin. It suited him a lot better. Jim felt himself grin giddily, still a bit light-headed, which earned him an amused smile in return fromRalon.
He’d always wanted to go to Antiva.
“All right, you’re pretty out of it, huh? Ccome on, let’s get you up.” Ralon stooped,sliding an arm around Jim’s back, uncaring of the sweat and the overall air ofmisery that radiated off the scout. Working together, they managed to get Jimto his feet, and although he was unsteady, he could still manage walking with Ralon’ssupport. Just.
“...’m sorry,” Jim mumbled, embarrassed. Of course he’d be the one to faint on the job. He’dbe the laughing stock for weeks. “Thanks for… the rescue.”
A rich, warm laugh rolled up from the man’s chest. “Ah, you’re allright. No need to apologise.” Ralon’s eyes flicked across and he winked. “Way I see it, you rescued me from sparring. I should be the one thanking you.”
He actually winked! OhMaker. It took every shred of Jim’s willpower not to faint again.
“Well uh… you’re, um… welcome?”
At that, Ralon just chuckled, and it somehow made even Jim,light-headed and nauseous though he was, crack a smile. They paused for amoment as Ralon apologised, adjusted his grip, then asked him again if heneeded to sit down or rest for a moment. Jim hurriedly reassured him he wasokay to keep walking, and they continued on towards the infirmary, Ralonchatting absently away in an effort to keep Jim calm and distracted from the journey.
Listening to the man speak, his accent occasionally slippinginto something more Antivan than Ferelden, Jim allowed himself a private,pleased smile.
Maybe he should faint more often...
#dragon age fanfiction#hanin lavellan#ralon#scout jim#i have no idea why i did this#but HERE IT IS#poor Jim needs a break#and summer clothing#and a boss who doesn't reside in the goddamn rookery#>.>#reluctant writes#reluctant replies#writing prompts#<3#bladeverbena
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The final bar? How gentrification threatens America’s music cities
Austin, Nashville and New Orleans have thrived on the success of vibrant music scenes. But as rents rise and noise complaints become more common, do they risk ruining what made them famous in the first place?
At a Sixth Street bar in the heart of Austin, Texas a pop up version of Sebs jazz club from the Hollywood hit film La La Land is being set up its blue letters yet to be switched on. Nearby, a replica of Breaking Bads Los Pollos Hermanos fast food restaurant has appeared, causing a minor Twitter frenzy.
These are just two of the attractions materialising in the city in time for the music and media festival South by Southwest (SXSW), and throughout the 10 days of the event it is hard to find someone who isnt wearing an official SXSW wristband worth $1,000.
What started 30 years ago as a celebration of Austins local music scene, though, is now in danger of harming the very thing that made it unique. SXSW brings in hundreds of artists from around the world, 200,000 visitors and $325.3m (250m) to the citys economy. Its success has helped Austin establish music as a fundamental part of its development, but at the same time, as many as 20% of musicians in this self-appointed live music capital of the world survive below the federal poverty line.
According to a recent study by the Urban Land Institute, the city is in the effective 11th hour of the endangerment of the live music scene, brought on by Austins rapid growth it is now the fastest growing city in the US in terms of population, jobs and economy.
A downtown wall mural in the shadow of new high-rise construction in Austin. Photograph: George Rose/Getty Images
Its a difficult reality for the city to confront. Austin is one of the three major US music cities, alongside New Orleans and Nashville, that have capitalised on this local culture at the risk of ruining the scenes that made them famous in the first place. In Austin, the local live music scene is now paying the price for its success. Brian Block, of the citys economic development office, says despite an apparent city-wide financial boom, local musicians income is at best stagnating, and possibly declining.
Hayes Carll, a 41-year-old Grammy-nominated artist who recently won Austins Musician of the Year, says that for most Texans, Austin is the mecca of music cities. It was where it all came together: the songs, the record stores, the community, the identity. It was the first place I went where I could say Im a singer-songwriter and they didnt ask me what my real job was.
Music lives throughout Austins 200 or so venues, the annual music awards and festivals, and the many brilliant artists including Townes Van Zandt and Janis Joplin who have called it home. It was where Willie Nelson allegedly reunited the hippies and rednecks when he first went on stage at the Armadillo World Headquarters in August 1972. Today, Austins love of local creativity is immortalised in folk singer Daniel Johnstons Hi, how are you? mural, depicting his iconic alien frog near the citys university.
SXSW brings $325m to the Austin economy each year. Photograph: Larry W Smith/EPA
But despite this rich history, long-standing venues in Austins downtown Red River District are being forced to adjust to an influx of new neighbours mostly expensive condos or hotels. Rising rents have forced venues like Holy Mountain and Red 7 to close, while noise complaints are an ongoing problem hotels offer earplugs for a better nights sleep.
Therere some less than wonderful aspects to the growth process, and I know a lot of friends who have had to leave Austin, says Carll, a Texan who has lived here for 12 years. Austin is going to have to fight to keep some of the things that made it special like the affordability and how you could be yourself and do whatever you wanted. When you become the hot cool city that everybodys moving to, some of that freedom can get pushed out.
The city government is keen to stress that theyre working to preserve the live music scene. In 2013 the Red River District was given its cultural title to highlight its local significance. Block says they are now implementing a Red River extended hours pilot programme in the hope that an extra hour of live music on the weekend will bring increased revenues to help cope with rising costs, and more paid work for the musicians.
Willie Nelson performs in his annual 4th of July Picnic at the Austin360 Amphitheater. Photograph: Gary Miller/Getty Images
The city is also revising its land development codes for the first time in 30 years in an effort to raise the profile of entertainment districts. There are other support systems that come from outside government too, such as Haam which provides access to affordable healthcare for low-income musicians. Music is very important to the culture, to the local economy and I think it will remain so. Hopefully we can get ahead of the issues we know are coming, Block says.
But some feel its too late. Im worried Austin will change negatively, says Carll. Its great that Austins identity revolves around music, and that the city government is trying to do things to correct it. But none of that will matter if musicians cant afford to live there, or the venues are shut down because of noise complaints, or you cant get to the venue because youre stuck in traffic on the highway.
New Orleans: music from cradle to grave
Louis Armstrong and his All Stars in a still from director Arthur Lubins musical New Orleans. Photograph: Frank Driggs Collection/Getty Images
Across the state border in Louisiana, New Orleans is facing similar problems as it develops and gentrifies. There are fears that without local government actively supporting musicians, the scenes survival could be at risk.
How do you keep a [music scene] real and authentic and yet encourage people to get involved? Its a paradox, says Jan Ramsey, editor of local magazine OffBeat. Theres an authenticity to the music and the people who make it, and the integration of black and white culture here we never want to lose that.
John Swenson, journalist and author of New Atlantis, Musicians Battle for the Survival of New Orleans says the music accompanies you from the cradle to the grave; its born out of the neighbourhoods and permeates all levels of society. Jazz was born here, tracing back to the mixture of African drums and European horns played by slaves in the late 19th century; and part of its musical heritage is a long list of prodigious artists, from Louis Armstrong to James Booker.
The Spotted Cat. Photograph: Alamy
This culture attracts some 10 million tourists to the city each year. But what is unique about it and gives the scene greater strength is how it has become an invaluable lifeline for the citys regeneration after the devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina in 2005.
In the Spotted Cat, one of the long-standing venues on Frenchmen Street, manager Cheryl Abana talks quietly as a jazz singer performs to a crowded room. For a couple of years [after Katrina] it was pretty sad here and the music scene really helped out with trying to get everyones spirits up. It really helped build the city up again, she says.
One of the most successful programmes to support the creative community following Katrina was Musicians Village, devised by Harry Connick Jr and Branford Marsalis alongside Habitat for Humanity. Situated in the Upper Ninth ward one of the places hardest hit by the hurricane it is a community of homes built by volunteers to support displaced musicians. Its a symbol to musicians that my community will be there when I get back; were going to keep that tradition alive, says Jim Pate, executive director of the New Orleans Area Habitat for Humanity.
A decade on, and artists of all genres and ages live in the village, including some of the godfathers of New Orleans heritage like Little Freddie King. The musicians came back to New Orleans because music lived here, says Swenson.
People listen to music at a home in Musicians Village. Photograph: Mario Tama/Getty Images
Nashville: the original music city
In Nashville, Tennessee, just a few blocks away from the famous honky tonk highway of Broadway, mayor Megan Barry sits in her office overlooking the state capitol. She is surrounded by motifs of Nashvilles music history: theres a framed photograph of DeFord Bailey sitting on the steps of the Ryman auditorium, the first African American to perform at the Grand Ole Opry; and in the foyer hangs a painting by Chris Coleman of Kings of Leon. He gave it to Barry as a gift.
Music is everywhere. Although it has a heritage as influential as New Orleans, here it spreads further: from inside the mayors office and the governments music council, to pretty much everyone you meet in the city who either plays it, writes it or listens to it (every taxi driver I meet is a musician; my Airbnb host is a songwriter).
As soon as I mention the phrase music cities, Barry interrupts jovially: Well, I think theres only one! Music has been part of Nashvilles foundations since the 1800s when it established itself as a centre for music publishing. Its heritage goes back to the Fisk Jubilee Singers who were based here the African American a cappella band who were the first musical group to tour the world, raising money for freed slaves. Upon hearing them, Queen Victoria allegedly coined Nashvilles title as a music city, which is now plastered across Tennessee billboards.
Bars and honky-tonks line Broadway in Nashville. Photograph: Brian Jannsen/Alamy
In 1925, WSM radio station was founded, which went on to broadcast the Grand Ole Opry now the longest running radio show in the US that gave rise to some of the greatest names in country music. Music Row, the 200-acre area near downtown at its peak housed 270 music publishers, 120 record production agencies, 80 record manufacturing companies, 80 booking agencies and more. Elvis Heartbreak Hotel was recorded here at RCA in 1956; Bob Dylans Blonde on Blonde was recorded nearby at Columbia Recording studios 10 years later.
Now, the $10bn industry music industry provides 56,000 jobs, supporting more than $3.2bn of labour income annually. We cant undersell its importance to our overall economic viability and continued growth and prosperity, says Barry.
Nashville is projected to grow by 186,000 residents and 326,000 jobs in the next 25 years, and like Austin, has to confront uncomfortable growing pains in the form of gentrification. But music is firmly intertwined with the citys municipal plans for how it will develop in the future.
DeFord Bailey was the first African American to perform at the Grand Ole Opry. Photograph: GAB Archive/Redferns
The city provides affordable housing for musicians, and music programmes for school children, as we know our graduation rates go up when kids are involved in music, says Barry. They go on and they have a career in music and then it feeds the job creation. Its about feeding that pipeline.
I think that although music evolves and changes, the ability for Nashville to grow and change with it has been part of our success.
At Dinos bar in east Nashville, 26-year-old musician Cale Tyson is sipping on a beer. He is one of thousands of artists who moved here because of its history. I feel like Nashvilles a town where musicians are treated really well. I dont think anythings closed off here, says the Texan singer-songwriter. In Nashville the competition and being around so many good artists forces you to work a lot harder.
People continue to migrate to Nashville because of this (about 100 a day), and this influx has inevitably changed the music scene for better or worse. The country music capital of the world which ignited the careers of Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn and Kitty Wells to name just a few is now home to a burgeoning hip hop scene in the citys so-called DIY clubs. Jack White moved in and set up a branch of Third Man records in 2009, while bands like Paramore, Kings of Leon and the Black Keys have all migrated here.
Nashville has even spawned a genre called bro country, where burly men sing about chewing tobacco and celebrate being a redneck (with lyrics that repeat red red red red redneck), their odd rap verses a world away from the original country music that formed the soul of this city.
But the commercialisation of Nashville has led to accusations that country music is dead. A few years ago US country singer Collin Raye made a heartfelt plea for the city to get back to its roots and remember the musicians who built and sustained the Nashville industry and truly made country music an American art form, he said. It needs to be that way once again. God Bless Hank Williams. God Bless George Jones.
And people are still trying to keep this alive. I dont think traditional country went away, says Brendan Malone who runs a traditional honky tonk an event celebrating country music in the east of the city. The fire was still kindling. It just needed to have some gasoline poured on it.
At Malones Honky Tonk Tuesdays, a man in a check shirt is barbecuing some ribs in the car park of the US army veterans club. Inside, ageing regulars sit at the bar nursing whiskeys to the sound of Hank Williams on the juke box.
In the main room, men and women of all ages wearing Stetsons and western shirts take turns two-stepping with each other as the band covers songs of Ernest Tubb and Red Foley. They perform against a backdrop of the US flag laid out in fairy lights.
Theres a sincere sense of pride in Nashvilles history here, despite how far the city and its culture has changed. With support from the mayors office to the local community, it seems Nashville took a bet on music and it paid off.
Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter and Facebook to join the discussion, and explore our archive here
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/the-final-bar-how-gentrification-threatens-americas-music-cities/
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1-10 😚
1. Your current relationship, if single discuss how single life is. I am single at the moment, and i actually really love it. I like having time for me and my friends and not having to worry about a guy. I like having crushes on guys and not having to be like “uh oh i like this other guy a little whoops” maybe i just had a horrible demonic presence as a bf but idk lol.
2 .Where you’d like to be in 10 years. in ten years ill be 30 lmao and honestly don’t wanna think about that. but hopefully ill have a good job? lol i want to live in california
3. Your views on drugs and alcohol. i used to be a total stick in the ass (is that an expression) about drugs and alcohol, but now idc. I smoke weed socially and drink all the time. But like it opens your mind to other things, like i feel so much more comfortable with myself. I feel like i can talk freely about anything to anyone.
4. Your views on religion. since my dad died i haven’t been very religious, even before then we never went to church. It was just always a thing, like God is there. and I’m not blaming my beliefs on the fact that my dad died, i know it has no real correlation. religion has never played a huge role in my life, and when my dad died i feel like any of what i had got thrown out the window, i started making bad decisions and coped in all the wrong ways, but I’ve made it through that. I really don’t know what i believe in, but i will never push anyones beliefs away, I’m open to them, if that makes any bit of sense.
5. A time you thought about ending your own life. theres actually been quite a few times, mostly in my past. its funny i used to think i wanted to kill myself because my dad died, but now i realize it was what happened after that that made me feel that way. i mean i was already suffering from depression and then this kid keeps telling you “everyone dies, death is okay its okay to want to kill yourself or hurt yourself” and then manipulate me into doing promiscuous things in school (MIDDLE FUCKING SCHOOL) and make you give up the music you love because “you love them more than me, go suck his dick” (hmmm gladly) oh not to forget, calls you a slut and a whore for having a normal connection with a teacher, (mind you in front of said teacher). so yeah all those things drove me to want to kill myself, But recently any of the times I’ve felt that way, its been resolved rather quickly because now i have music in my life again, and music calms me more than anything.
6. Write 30 interesting facts about yourself. ohmygod this post is already soooo long lol, but honestly i really like getting my thoughts out like this no offense lol, even if no one reads it i still feel like I’m getting shit out in the open! 1.i lost my virginity when i was 13 2. i have two middle names; Patricia, Grace. . 3. the first celebrity i ever met was Bret Michaels 4. my favorite band is Guns N’ Roses and honestly don’t know what id do without that band in my life 5. i get angry really easily sometimes over the stupidest things 6. I’m into older men (if it wasn’t obvious to tell) 7. the day Prince died i had to leave school early because i was crying so much, and honestly have not gotten over it 8. ive been best friends w the most amazing bitch since 5th grade (thats like 10 years!!!) 9. i used to have a celeb crush on jim carrey lmao 10. ive never sang (like real singing) in front of anyone 11. i met slash at the milwaukee airport lol 12. i work at a party city and honestly with some of the greatest people i think ill ever meet 13. i have a bondage and daddy kink 14. i used to be a rebel without a cause, kind of a bitch and totally inappropriate at school 15. i had/ve a major crush on my high school teacher (who in my defense used to be a model for ralph lauren, and loved Poison sooooo uhhh) 16. i have major trust issues 17. i want to be a stripper 18. i love nascar and have since i was really little 19. i used to be terrified of tornadoes and even when it rained a little i would have a full on panic attack 20. I’m getting a pet snake FINALLY 21. i have at least 6 different styles in the way i dress 22. ive been obsessed with the 80s since i was like in 6th grade 23. i have a theory that David Bowie isn’t of Earth 24. I’ve had a paranormal experience 25. i love christmas 26. i go to a lot of concerts alone 27. i loved the song Darling Nikki so much when i was younger, my mom had to beg me not to tell people lmao 28. when i saw Poison live, i cried during Talk Dirty To Me lol 29. i love driving and listening to my music 30. i love marvel and the mcu, and its like one of the things I’m most passionate about (I’m a dork)
7. Your zodiac sign and if you think it fits your personality. I’m a scorpio but since i was born on the 24th of october I’m a cusp w libra. I think that these signs reflect me very well, more so for scorpio obvi. but over time I’ve read that scorpios don’t really feel open about talking about certain things, they have trust issues, extremely sexual, jealous/possessive, they connect deeply… which are all things that really remind me of myself. I’ve been into astrology for as long as i can remember, so its a big deal to me lol.
8. A moment you felt the most satisfied with your life probably when i went to milwaukee, i did it alone, i paid for everything i went on a plane for the first time went to a hotel went in an uber lol all by myself. i really truly felt so amazing there, like nothing was stopping me and like if i can do this i can some day live in california on my own. its definitely one of the best things I’ve ever done in my life, not to mention, doing it all to see my favorite band from the fucking third row.
9. How you hope your future will be like i don’t like realistically thinking about the future, because i don’t really know what i want yet. but i guess i want to be in california with a steady income.
10. Discuss your first love and first kiss. my first love was Prince, when i listened to him it felt like i was hearing music for the first time, it was so unique to me. my first kiss was a drag tbh lol
thanks so much for asking dude, love ya! 💖💋
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As a nation cries for justice, the siblings of Atatiana Jefferson ask she not be forgotten
New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/as-a-nation-cries-for-justice-the-siblings-of-atatiana-jefferson-ask-she-not-be-forgotten/
As a nation cries for justice, the siblings of Atatiana Jefferson ask she not be forgotten
As Americans face a reckoning over the deaths of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and others, Jefferson’s three siblings sat down for a video conference with Appradab. They want to remind America that amid its demands for justice in police killings, protesters should not forget their sister.
“This literally was one of those situations where this could’ve been anybody,” Ashley Carr, 36, said.
‘We’re literally just doing normal, everyday things’
On October 12, Jefferson was babysitting Zion for Amber, who was recovering from heart surgery. She’d been released from rehabilitation two days prior. Jefferson was a caretaker. She adored family time, whether it was holidays or a game of spades.
Zion and his aunt were playing video games around 2 a.m. when two Fort Worth police officers arrived, responding to a concerned neighbor’s call about doors being open at Jefferson’s home.
Jefferson, 28, heard something outside and grabbed her gun. Officer Aaron Dean did not identify himself as police. He demanded, through the window, that Jefferson show her hands before opening fire, killing her, bodycam footage shows.
“That is a blessing that I think that we have for ours is that we have a video because how would that narrative have went?” asked Ashley Carr. “What we have noticed, even with the Ahmaud Arbery case, is that that narrative is not how the video went. … If the cameras weren’t there, all of a sudden it could’ve been, ‘It was a shootout and blah blah blah,’ and we would’ve had to take their word.”
The family has struggled watching videos of recent police killings.
“Revictimization: I didn’t think how serious it was until I really started watching other people get killed,” brother Adarius Carr, the father of a 7-month-old, said. “I definitely feel the passion, the hurt, the anger rebubble up — the need to do something, the need to fix our community, the need to figure out what can I do to make this world better for my son and for kids Zion’s age. … It happens every time that I watch it, so that’s why I said sometimes I just don’t watch it. You can’t.”
Ashley Carr never finished watching the Floyd video, in which a Minneapolis police officer knelt on his neck for almost eight minutes. “Longest video of my life,” she said. She’s familiar with other killings, and it makes her question the rules. At least during Jim Crow, she said, it was clearer what Black people could and couldn’t do. Now, it feels nebulous, she said.
“I can’t sit in my house and play video games. I can’t go out and run for a jog. I fell asleep at Wendy’s in my car, and now I’m losing my life. These are crazy things. I can’t walk from the store — Elijah McClain — and I’m telling you, he’s literally telling you he’s an introvert,” she said. “We’re literally just doing normal, everyday things and you can still be killed. That’s a crazy place to live in. That’s a scary place to live in, but that’s the reality of a Black person.”
Amber Carr did finish the Floyd video. Upon seeing the 46-year-old plead for his mama, she thought of her sister.
“I wouldn’t say I felt her or I saw her, but it made me wonder,” she paused for several seconds, tears welling in her eyes. “What were her last words? To hear them say their last words, did she cry out for her mom? Did she cry out for someone?”
‘He wasn’t even safe in the home’
Adarius Carr is already planning to have “the talk” — the Black boys’ rite where parents explain they will be treated differently for their skin — with his infant son, Thaddeus. He doesn’t know how the chat will go, but he’s locked down the theme.
“The best I can tell him is: Make it home to me,” he said. “Just make it home, son, as fast as you can. Whatever you have to do, make it home.”
It’s a sad reality Black children’s parents must prepare for these conversations before their children have reached maturity, said Amber Carr, who also has a 4-year-old, Zayden.
Zion is smart. He knows what’s happening. He knows why he’s attending protests and rallies, but he doesn’t understand the big picture, she said. He’s too young.
“The bigger picture is I don’t want you go outside and play because they don’t like you out there. I want you in the house because I can watch you. I feel like you’re safer in the house, but then I can’t even say that,” she said. “He wasn’t even safe in the home.”
At the same time, Zion witnessed and lived through something to which none of his relatives can relate. Zion will occasionally remember a game he played or a trip he took with Aunt Tay and start talking, but his mother doesn’t press him, she said.
“He actually lived the experience. We as his elders, we didn’t experience anything like he’s just experienced. I’ve only watched things like that on television,” she said. “I don’t ask him questions. I don’t know if I don’t ask him questions for him or me. Probably for the both of us.”
Life as a coping mechanism
Adarius, Amber and Ashley — whose mother had dubbed them the A-Team before her passing earlier this year — try mightily to live normal lives, despite the pall of their sister’s killing hanging over them.
Yolanda Carr, their matriarch, was ill when tragedy struck in October. Jefferson had moved home to Fort Worth to help care for her. Yolanda learned of Jefferson’s death in the hospital. She was too sick to attend the funeral and sent a eulogy for the pastor to read. Less than three months later, she passed.
“Being in the hospital and not being able to be herself and not being able to fight, that’s crazy,” Ashley Carr said. “It’s a lot of emotions that come back up, but through all of these emotions, we all have to still get up and go do jobs. We have to make sure that our kids are ready, that the household is still running — all while having this on our back. It becomes a lot.”
Amber Carr hears praise about how well she’s handling the loss, but there’s no magic to it, she said. She has no choice but to persevere.
“People ask all the time, ‘How do you do it? How do you smile through it all?’ It’s life, you know? You have to keep living,” she said. “I have my moments where I might not sleep for days or I might be in the car and I just start crying. You just have your moments.”
Like anyone, there are times when the siblings want to block out the world and forget their woes, but it isn’t realistic. They must fight for justice. They must keep their sister’s name alive, to ensure people understand she lived for something and died for nothing.
“Some days, you do want to just crawl up under a rock and pray that this all goes away. You think you’re living in a nightmare, but this is life. This is our new normal, as they call it. We’re trying to embrace this new life,” Ashley Carr said.
The Atatiana Project and Sisters of the Movement
Adarius Carr wishes he could do more. He left home about 12 years ago and now serves as a boatswain’s mate in the US Navy. Military obligations prevent him from being as involved as his sisters in activism.
One of the family initiatives of which he’s proudest is the Atatiana Project, which serves to bridge police and urban communities, and promotes STEM careers — with an emphasis on coding and gaming — for children. Jefferson, a biology graduate from Xavier University of Louisiana, worked in pharmaceutical equipment sales and wanted to become a doctor.
The Atatiana Project launched on Juneteenth.
Adarius, 32, loved playing video games with his little sister. Role-playing, fighting games — nothing was off limits. As kids, they’d play all night and be bushed when it came time to go to school, he said. The memory brings a bright smile to his face.
The last time the Navy chief petty officer came home from deployment, he and Jefferson played Warframe for four days — “all night giggling, laughing, telling jokes. She’s always a class act, always had me in stitches.”
Today, he keeps his sister’s pillow in his gaming room in San Diego, where he’s stationed. He catches himself asking her questions about the games he’s playing.
“Giving back is a big thing for us in general,” he said of the Atatiana Project. “When you’re hurting, it is sometimes better to just get people around you that understand the hurt, or you can help them with their hurt. We’ve been through a lot, and we want to see if we can help the next person.”
Amber and Ashley Carr have found solace in another initiative, Sisters of the Movement, an organization founded by women who lost siblings to police violence, including Sandra Bland‘s, Terence Crutcher‘s and Shantel Davis‘.
Another founder, Allisa Charles-Findley, the sister of Botham Jean — who, too, was killed in his own home by a Texas police officer — helped Ashley Carr navigate losing a sibling and “the different things that go on with family dynamics,” Carr said.
“We end up realizing we are part of a movement and we need to be heard and that we do matter — and that the people, they needed a voice and we want to be the voice,” Ashley Carr said. “That helped me show that I’m OK. … These are valid feelings to be feeling angry, to be feeling upset, to be feeling like, How in the world could this happen to somebody who was just literally at home?”
Amber Carr texts with Botham Jean’s mother, Allison, periodically. She’s hilarious and “a breath of fresh air,” Carr said. Taking Zion and Zayden to visit her in St. Lucia is on Amber Carr’s “vision board” for the future, she said.
“Those women, they’re relatable,” she said. “That part helps me, to know I’m not by myself.”
Waiting for justice
As the A-Team grapples with grief and justice, former Fort Worth police officer Aaron Dean awaits trial on a murder charge.
Yolanda Carr sobbed from her hospital bed upon learning Dean was indicted in December, but she died weeks later.
Dean had tendered his resignation and has been free on $200,000 bail. The state police union will help pay for his defense. Dean’s attorney, Jim Lane, declined to comment, citing the court’s gag order, but told Appradab last year, “My client is sorry and his family is in shock.”
Jefferson’s siblings don’t know much about the case. No one has given them a time line. When Amber Carr last spoke to prosecutors, she said, she was told there are other cases ahead of theirs.
“We just have to wait our turn,” she said. The Tarrant County district attorney’s spokeswoman was out of the office Tuesday and did not return Appradab’s call seeking an update.
The question the siblings keep asking, though, is: Why is this dragging out? It’s so clear-cut, so egregious in their minds, it should be open-and-shut, they say. Where’s the accountability?
Ashley Carr, a former educator, is a budget analyst for Houston schools. If she were to hurt or upset a child, there’d be questions to answer. Amber Carr is a cosmetologist. If she were accused of cutting a client or being unsanitary, Texas might pull her license. Adarius Carr is a sailor. Every time he pulls the trigger, he has to answer to someone. They feel they’re held to stiffer standards than police, they say.
“Rules of engagement is big in the military, and I don’t see how my rules of engagement are a lot stricter than theirs,” Adarius Carr said. “They defend us, so it baffles me.”
Memories buoy siblings
Until they get answers, they’ll keep championing Jefferson’s legacy. They find warmth in the memories of their beautiful, smiling sister who would do anything for them.
Ashley and Amber will remember when they flew out to San Diego to see Adarius and saw The O’Jays at the 2018 county fair. Video from the concert shows them laughing and dancing and having a ball.
Jefferson loved her tunes — all genres, from gospel to metal — and was a talented musician, earning first chair for clarinets at every school she attended, the siblings said.
Ashley Carr will always think fondly of the last show they saw together: Beyonce and Jay-Z during the 2018 On the Run II Tour — in Beyonce’s and Ashley’s hometown of Houston, no less. Jefferson had never been to a concert of that scale, her sister said, and Ashley didn’t realize Jefferson was such an enthusiastic member of the Beyhive until that day. They had such fun, Ashley looked forward to more shows with her sister.
“I was like, ‘Man, we’re doing this all the time.’ In my head, I was like, ‘This is going to be my new concert buddy,'” she said. “When I listen to Beyonce, I always think of her. I always say, ‘We had our moment.’ We did have our moment, and I’m going to cherish that moment.”
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JONESTOWN SURVIVORS: Where they are 40 years later
JONESTOWN SURVIVORS: Where they are 40 years later JONESTOWN SURVIVORS: Where they are 40 years later https://ift.tt/2B5ReKt
WARNING: GRAPHIC IMAGES
OAKLAND, Calif. — Jonestown was the highlight of Mike Touchette’s life — for a time.
The 21-year-old Indiana native felt pride pioneering in the distant jungle of Guyana, South America. As a self-taught bulldozer operator, he worked alongside other Peoples Temple members in the humid heat, his blade carving roads and sites for wooden buildings with metal roofs. More than 900 people lived in the agricultural mission, with its dining pavilion, tidy cottages, school, medical facilities and rows of crops.
“We built a community out of nothing in four years,” recalled Touchette, now a 65-year-old grandfather who has worked for a Miami hydraulics company for nearly 30 years. “Being in Jonestown before Jim got there was the best thing in my life.”
JONESTOWN 40 YEARS LATER: Mass suicide shocked world
Amanda Knox to host new true crime podcast: 'I tend not to be a fan of the genre'
Jim was the Rev. Jim Jones — charismatic, volatile and ultimately evil. It was he who dreamed up Jonestown, he who willed it into being, and he who brought it down: First, with the assassination of U.S. Rep. Leo Ryan and four others by temple members on a nearby airstrip on Nov. 18, 1978, then with the mass murders and suicides of hundreds, a horror that remains nearly unimaginable 40 years later.
FILE – This November 1978 file photo shows the bodies of Peoples Temple mass suicide victims led by Jim Jones in Jonestown, Guyana. Dozens of Peoples Temple members in Guyana survived the mass suicides and murders of more than 900 because they had slipped out of Jonestown or happened to be away Nov. 18, 1978. Those raised in the temple or who joined as teens lost the only life they knew. They have journeyed over the past 40 years through grief over lost loved ones, feeling like pariahs, building new lives and, finally, acknowledging that many had a role in enabling the Rev. Jim Jones to seize control over his followers. (AP Photo/File)
But some lived. Dozens of members in Guyana slipped out of Jonestown or happened to be away that day. Plunged into a new world, those raised in the temple or who joined as teens lost the only life they knew: church, jobs, housing — and most of all, family and friends.
Over four decades, as they have built new lives, they have struggled with grief and the feeling that they were pariahs. Some have come to acknowledge that they helped enable Jim Jones to seize control over people drawn to his interracial church, socialist preaching and religious hucksterism.
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With their lives, the story of Jonestown continues, even now.
CHILD OF BERKELEY
Jordan Vilchez’s parents were Berkeley progressives in the 1960s — her father African-American, her mother Scotch-Irish. They divorced when Jordan was 6.
When a friend invited her family to Peoples Temple’s wine country church, they were impressed by the integrated community. And when her 23-year-old sister joined, Jordan went to live with her at age 12.
“The temple really became my family,” she said.
Devotion to its ideals bolstered her self-worth. At 16, she was put on the Planning Commission where the meetings were a strange mix of church business, sex talk — and adulation for Jones. “What we were calling the cause really was Jim,” she said.
Instead of finishing high school, Vilchez moved to San Francisco, where she lived in the church. Then, after a 1977 New West magazine expose of temple disciplinary beatings and other abuses, she was sent to Jonestown.
Grueling field work was not to her liking. Neither were the White Nights where everyone stayed up, armed with machetes to fight enemies who never arrived.
Vilchez was dispatched to the Guyanan capital of Georgetown to raise money. On Nov. 18 she was at the temple house when a fanatical Jones aide received a dire radio message from Jonestown. The murders and suicides were unfolding, 150 miles away.
In this March 5, 2018 photo released by Kevin Kunishi, Jordan Vilchez sits at memorial for mass murder and suicide victims at the Jonestown settlement in Guyana. Vilchez returned to Jonestown for the first time in 40 years. (Kevin Kunishi via AP) ORG XMIT: FX412
“She gives us the order that were supposed to kill ourselves,” Vilchez recalled.
Within minutes, the aide and her three children lay dead in a bloody bathroom, their throats slit.
For years, Vilchez was ashamed of the part he played in an idealistic group that imploded so terribly. “Everyone participated in it and because of that, it went as far as it did,” she said.
Vilchez worked as office manager at a private crime lab for 20 years and now, at 61, sells her artwork.
This past year, she returned to long-overgrown Jonestown. Where the machine shop once stood, there was only rusty equipment. And she could only sense the site of the pavilion, the once-vibrant centre of Jonestown life where so many died — including her two sisters and two nephews.
“When I left at 21, I left a part of myself there,” she said. “I was going back to retrieve that young person and also to say goodbye.”
THE JONES FIRSTBORN
Though he waved and smiled at Peoples Temple services, seemingly enraptured like the rest, Stephan Gandhi Jones says he always had his doubts.
“This is really crazy,” he recalls thinking.
But Stephan was the biological son of Jim and Marceline Jones. And the temple was his life — first in Indiana, later in California.
“So much was attractive and unique that we turned a blind eye on what was wrong,” he said, including his father’s sexual excesses, drug abuse and rants.
As a San Francisco high school student, he was dispatched to help build Jonestown. It would become a little town where people of all ages and colours raised food and children.
Stephan helped erect a basketball court and form a team. In the days before Ryan’s fact-finding mission to the settlement, the players were in Georgetown for a tourney with the Guyana national teams.
Rebelling, they refused Jones’ order to come back. Stephan believed he was too cowardly to follow through with the oft-threatened “revolutionary suicide.”
FILE – In this Nov. 13, 2008 file photo, Stephan Jones, son of Rev. Jim Jones of the Peoples Temple, poses for a portrait near San Rafael, Calif. Dozens of Peoples Temple members in Guyana survived the mass suicides and murders of more than 900 because they had slipped out of Jonestown or happened to be away Nov. 18, 1978. Those raised in the temple or who joined as teens lost the only life they knew. Now, Stephan Jones is father of three daughters, ages 16, 25 and 29, and works in the office furniture installation business. He says his daughters have seen him gnash his teeth when he talks about his father, but they also have heard him speak lovingly of the man who taught him compassion and other virtues.
But after temple gunmen killed the congressman, three newsmen and a church defector on the Port Kaituma airstrip, Jones ordered a poisoned grape-flavoured drink administered to children first. That way no one else would want to live.
Stephan Jones and some other team members believe they might have changed history if they were there. “The reality was we were folks who could be counted on to stand up,” he said. “There is no way we would be shooting at the airstrip. That’s what triggered it.”
He went through years of nightmares, mourning and shame. To cope, he says he abused drugs and exercised obsessively. “I focused my rage on Dad and his circle, rather than deal with me,” he said.
More than 300 Jonestown victims were children. Now, Stephan Jones is father of three daughters, ages 16, 25 and 29, and works in the office furniture installation business.
He says his daughters have seen him gnash his teeth when he talks about his father, but they also have heard him speak lovingly of the man who taught him compassion and other virtues.
“People ask, ‘How can you ever be proud of your father?”‘ he said. “I just have to love him and forgive him.”
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NINTH GRADER FROM FRESNO
Eugene Smith recalls how his mother, a churchgoing African-American, bought into Jim Jones’ dream after they attended a service in Fresno. She gave her house to the Peoples Temple and they moved to San Francisco.
He was 18 and running a temple construction crew when the church sanctioned his marriage to a talented 16-year-old singer, Ollie Wideman. After Ollie became pregnant, she was sent to Jonestown; Eugene remained behind.
When Smith reunited with his mother and wife in Jonestown, Ollie was 8 1/2 months pregnant.
The reunion with Jones was not as joyous. Jones berated three other new arrivals for misbehaviour on the trip; they were beaten and forced to work 24 hours straight.
“He made a promise — once we get to Jonestown there is no corporal punishment,” Smith said. “In an hour, that promise was broken.”
In this photo taken Monday, Oct. 22, 2018, former Peoples Temple member Eugene Smith poses for a photo in a park in San Francisco. Dozens of Peoples Temple members in Guyana survived the mass suicides and murders of more than 900 because they had slipped out of Jonestown or happened to be away Nov. 18, 1978. Smith recalls how his mother, a churchgoing African-American, bought into Jim Jones’ dream when he opened a new church in Fresno. She gave her house to the Peoples Temple and they moved to San Francisco, where Eugene ran a temple construction crew. He was just 14.
Life became more tolerable after the couple’s baby, Martin Luther Smith, was born. Ollie worked in the nursery, and Eugene felled trees. But he said his discontent festered.
When he was ordered to Georgetown to help with supply shipments, Smith said he concocted an escape plan: Ollie and other temple singers and dancers, he believed, would soon be sent to Georgetown to perform, and the family would flee to the U.S. Embassy.
But the entertainers stayed in Jonestown to entertain Ryan. And Smith’s wife, son and mother died.
“All I could do is weep,” he said.
After more than 22 years at California’s transportation department, Smith retired in 2015. He’s 61 now. He’s never remarried, and Martin Luther Smith was his only child.
BORN INTO TEMPLE FAMILY
When John Cobb was born in 1960 in a black section of Indianapolis, his mother and older siblings already were temple members. But in 1973, John’s oldest brother and a sister, along with six other California college students, quit the church and became its enemies. When the prodigals visited, the Cobbs kept it secret from Jones.
John was attending a San Francisco high school when he was allowed to join his best friends in Jonestown. There, as part of Jones’ personal security detail, Cobb saw the once captivating minister strung out on drugs, afraid to venture anywhere for fear of his legal problems.
In this Nov. 5, 2018 photo, John Cobb poses for a portrait at the the Jonestown Memorial at Evergreen Cemetery in Oakland, Calif. John was attending a San Francisco high school when he was allowed to join his best friends in Jonestown. There, as part of Jones’ personal security detail, Cobb saw the once captivating minister strung out on drugs, afraid to venture anywhere for fear of his legal problems.
“If anything, we felt pity for him,” he said, “and it grew into a dislike, maybe hate.”
He too was a member of the basketball team. His biggest regrets revolve around the team’s refusal to return to Jonestown. “I believe 100 per cent that not everyone would have been dead,” he said.
Cobb lost 11 relatives that day, including his mother, youngest brother and four sisters.
Now 58, he owns a modular office furniture business in the East Bay and is married with a daughter. 29. One day, when she was in high school, she came home and told her parents that her religion class had discussed Peoples Temple; only then did her father share the story of how his family was nearly wiped out.
She wept.
JONESES’ ADOPTED BLACK SON
The Joneses adopted a black baby in Indiana in 1960, and Jim gave the 10-week-old infant his own name. “Little Jimmy” became part of their “Rainbow Family” of white, black, Korean-American and Native American children.
In California, he was steeped in temple life. Those who broke rules were disciplined. At first it was spanking of children. Then it was boxing matches for adults.
“To me the ends justified the means,” he said. “We were trying to build a new world, a progressive socialist organization.”
The church provided free drug rehabilitation, medical care, food. It marched for four jailed Fresno newsmen. When Jim Sr., a local Democratic Party darling, met with future first lady Rosalyn Carter, Jim Jr. proudly went along.
After the temple exodus to Guyana, he was given a public relations post in Georgetown — and was part of the basketball team.
He was summoned to the temple radio room. In code, his father told him everyone was going to die in “revolutionary suicide.”
“I argued with my Dad,” he said. “I said there must be another way.”
FILE – This November 1978 file photo shows the Peoples Temple compound, led by Jim Jones, after bodies were removed, in Jonestown, Guyana. Dozens of Peoples Temple members in Guyana survived the mass suicides and murders of more than 900 because they had slipped out of Jonestown or happened to be away Nov. 18, 1978. Those raised in the temple or who joined as teens lost the only life they knew. (AP Photo/File) ORG XMIT: FX403
Jim Jr. would lose 15 immediate relatives in Jonestown, including his pregnant wife, Yvette Muldrow.
In the aftermath, he built a new life. He remarried three decades ago, and he and his wife Erin raised three sons. He converted to Catholicism and registered Republican. He built a long career in health care, while weathering his own serious health problems.
Of course, even if he wanted to forget Jonestown, his name was an ever-present reminder.
He has taken a lead role in a 40th Jonestown anniversary memorial to be held Sunday at Oakland’s Evergreen Cemetery, where remains of unclaimed and unidentified victims are buried. Four granite slabs are etched with names of the 918 people who died in Guyana– including James Warren Jones, which deeply offends some whose relatives perished.
“Like everyone else, he died there,” his son said. “I’m not saying he didn’t cause it, create it. He did.”
——
Tim Reiterman, AP environment team editor, covered Jonestown for the San Francisco Examiner and was wounded when temple members fired on Rep. Leo Ryan’s party in 1978. He is the author with the late John Jacobs of “Raven: The Untold Story of the Rev. Jim Jones and His People.”
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