#Real Irish Driving License
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Lifting the Veil on the Bentley
Because I’ve been talking about the Bentley being Crowley’s black horse of late, I’ve had a nudge to talk about the number plate. I know it’s explained as an easter egg in relation to Monty Python, but I think we can explore it a bit further than that.
It’s worth having a quick look at this older post from @fuckyeahgoodomens where they explain the inspiration was from an animated scene from Monty Python's Meaning of Life .
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The following is from the linked article.
As a nod to Terry Gilliam, who once tried to do a movie version of Good Omens, Gaiman and Mackinnon threw in a little reference to Gilliam’s origins doing animation for Monty Python.
“The license plate of Crowley’s Bentley is ‘Curtain’ backwards,” Gaiman said, because of the writing on the mausoleum in the suicidal leaves section of Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life. “Curtain backwards, like it’s the final curtain,” Mackinnon explained.
Before I get into all the connotations of “curtains,” there should be two things you notice about the “CURTIN” written on the mausoleum. The first is the spelling itself. It’s shortened to look like the Irish surname Curtin, so the mausoleum appears to belong to a real person. Curtin is an anglicized version of Mac Curtain, which means Son of the Crooked, or Son of the Harp, as the ‘crooked’ refers the hunchback shape of the Irish harp. I wouldn’t read too much into that, its probably more just a way of getting an actual curtain reference into that scene.
The other thing is that is not just backwards, it is mirror-image, as if you are looking at it from the other side of the mirror. So we should ask ourselves – which side are we looking from? And why does this matter?
While director Mackinnon mentions it referring to the “final curtain,” we need to start even further back than that to understand what the final curtain is, because even that has two meanings, even if only in a general sense. But because this is the GOmens AU, you can guarantee we’re going to find out there is more to it than that.
We need to go beyond the veil.
To go “beyond the veil” has become a euphemism for passing into death, or that unknowable place people go once they die. It was originally a figurative reference to the area in a Jewish Temple that was separated from the main body of the Temple by decorative curtains, called veils. The veils were specially woven, often with the image of a Cherubim woven in by a skilled worker; it was not allowed to be sewed on or added later. Each panel of the veil would display a different face of the Cherubim, such as the lion on one side, an eagle on the other, and so on. Only the priests could go past the veil into the most holiest of places. The veil was symbolic of separating men and their sins from the glory of God.
The word ‘veil’ can be translated into English as ‘curtain,’ so the two words are almost interchangeable in respect of this discussion. I was interested to see that the word veil comes from the Latin word velum, which also means ‘sail,’ as in “to move, to drive a vessel or vehicle forward.” I have previously commented that the Bentley should probably be a “she,” as traditionally all ships were female, and that’s a tradition we still see carried into the modern day, thousands of years after its origin. I’ve even seen modern day space probes – little ships sailing the solar system – referred to as she! But I’ll not be pedantic about it, don’t worry.
Keep your hands off my bitch, bitch.
So the curtain, or veil, is the boundary between life and death. Only – we are seeing it from the other side. And in the GOmens AU this “other side” is very real, and one Aziraphale and Crowley walk through with both ease and without much thought. They are agents of those on the other side of the veil, yet they walk with Humanity in a solid reality on the surface of the Earth. They know the other side is real. When wee Morag complains about Elspeth’s body-snatching activity that the ones she digs up and sell won’t be able to go to Heaven because they will be cut up, Aziraphale tries to tell her it’s not like that, but she's not listening:
WEE MORAG: Aye. Tell that to the poor souls who will not get into heaven 'cause their bodies are all chopped into wee pieces.
AZIRAPHALE: Well, that isn't how it actually…
CROWLEY: Heaven isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know.
WEE MORAG: It's no right. I'm telling you.
CROWLEY: Yeah.
For humans, though, there is supposed to be no return once you cross that threshold.
When we, the viewer, see the two worlds meet, it's usually signaled by the presence of fog, mist or smoke. When Lesley the delivery driver meets Death, the fog arrives, as he is no longer in the living world. When Aziraphale and Crowley leave Tadfield Manor, we have smoke telling us we are seeing two different times and places at once - the past and the present are overlaid on one another.
The Bentley must exist in both the Human and subliminal worlds at the same time - how else can it drive like it does? It doesn't really need Crowley's hands on the wheel to guide it. It couldn't have started out like that - it was made by humans, but we all know the Bentley is more than just a car now.
It chooses the music to play on its radio, it refuses to speed when taking Aziraphale to Edinburgh until Crowley yells at it, it tries to follow the angel after he gets out at the end of the journey. How it got like this we will probably never find out, but we figure its become an extension of Crowley by close association, much like Aziraphale tends to influence the world around him without effort as well.
In terms of it being a black horse - well, now we get into some interesting stuff!
Horses have been companions to humans for longer than cars have been around, so there is lots of lore and symbology associated with them. Previous metas around S2 have focused on "dark horses," as they were specifically mentioned twice in the script. But a dark horse is not necessarily a black horse, and vice versa, so lets look at some of the aspects of black horse symbology in particular that could be relevant to the Bentley and it role in traveling between worlds.
Horses were the original vehicle of the ancient world. While Famine was supposed to ride a black horse (the others were white, red and pale green for pestilence,) the black horses could also be messengers of death, a demon bringing death or a guide to the afterlife. In the Illiad, Achilles sacrifices four horses on the funeral pyre to accompany Patroclus to Hades.
[Edit: I've just put myself through the pain of watching S2E6 again, for reasons, and realised why the ethereal lift is in the entrance to the Dirty Donkey - because a black horse is a guide between worlds! Of course!]
They became associated with the Devil during the Middle Ages as the church tried to break the link to old pagan rites. The broomsticks witches ride are supposed to represent horses. And then there is the sexual connection to horses...which leads in a round-about way to the practice of nailing horseshoes up for luck and protection. Although perhaps the burning horseshoe on Jasmine Cottage is more directly linked to the story of St Dunstan tricking the Devil and making him promise he would never cross the threshold of a house that had a horseshoe nailed to the door.
Our favourite Bentley has been beyond veil and returned. Though it was kept valiantly alive through the sheer will of Crowley to escape the unnatural flames of the Sigil of Odegra, it expired at the Tadfield airbase once Crowley arrived and finally released it. It was only appropriate that Crowley took a moment to acknowledge its service.
Then Adam restored it the next day. Resurrected it, one could say.
Time for the "final curtain" to wrap this meta up.
To "face the final curtain" is another euphemism for facing death, or at least an ending. It's the final curtain of a theatre show, after the encores are done. Its the final fall of the curtain at the end of a run. Sometimes we might say its just "curtains" for something or someone, meaning it will be ending, as a shortened form. But both Aziraphale and Crowley knows death isn't the end; its a beginning as well. Its just matter of perspective to them.
I've seen other writers associate this final curtain with the first Armagedon't, and now we appear to maybe be facing the "big one" in S3 - the Second Coming. I think that is too simplistic an association, especially for GO. The reversed side of the veil could be so many things: the final battle, the ability of our ethereal heroes to move between worlds, it could even be Crowley returning from the "death" of being one of the Fallen. As always, the meaning will be need to be considered within the context of the scene, and which side of the curtain we are looking from.
#good omens#good omens 2#the bentley#crowley#aziraphale#good omens meta#good omens analysis#niat ruc#the final curtain#beyond the veil#bentley appreciation post#monty python#black horse#guide to to afterlife#Famine#devils on horseback#i'm having a moment here#crossing the threshold#liminal boundaries#is that a fog horn i hear?
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Random fun facts about the Ghostbusters!
Dr. Winston Ramsey Zeddemore (he did not spend all that time studying Egyptology to not be called Dr!)
1 Parents names are Lucille and Edward
2 Birthday is May 2nd, 1953
3 Is the oldest of three kids
4 he’s 6ft2in
5 Former Air Force Major
6 Doctorate in Egyptology
7 Started a successful Global enterprise
8 Learned to pick locks at a young age
9 Worked in construction, as a cab driver and as a gas pump attendant
10 Fond of basketball and baseball
11 Likes crime and mystery novels
12 Likes watching game shows and police dramas
13 Likes Blueberry Fudge cake
14 Is afraid of needles
15 His maternal grandmother is African and Puerto Rican
16 Has some fluency in Spanish
17 Has always wanted to go to space (and has!)
18 Didn’t believe in the paranormal until he became a Ghostbuster
19 His license plate is "BIG-042"
20 Devout Baptist
Dr Raymond ‘Ray’ Stantz
1 Birthday is October 13th, 1959
2 Has an older brother named Carl and younger sister Jean (who’s apparently bisexual and polyamorous according to the first movies’ novelization.)
3 Has two nephews and a niece
4 Is 6ft1in
5. Had the most supportive parents of the group, the were never harsh towards him when he did poorly in school and encouraged his hobbies such as reading comic, collecting toys, and playing musical instruments such as the clarinet and bagpipes
6. Loved dinosaurs as a child
7 Was a boy scout
8 This man cannot cook, roll dice, do math or drive to save his life
9 Loves horror movies, game shows, cartoons and baseball
10 He and Winston pull pranks on the others in the firehouse
11 Owns a bookstore
12 Wears reading glasses and contacts
13 Has had two pieces of real-estate left to him by two different uncles
14 Has ancestors from Russia, Scotland and Switzerland
15 Was hired to get rid of Casper and his uncles
16 He knows sign language
17 Owned a sailboat
18 Has multiple degrees in hopes of getting a Nobel Prize
19 is Agnostic
20 Has a birthmark under his chin
Dr Egon Spengler
1 Birthday is November 21st, 1957
2 Nickname is Spookums
3 Has a daughter named Callie
4 Has a grandson,Trevor, and a granddaughter, Phoebe
5 Has a twin brother named Elon
6 Has a niece
7 Probably has the worst parents of the group. They wouldn't talk to him for a week after he received an A- on a test, was taught to repress his emotions and even threw away his drawings of Socrates.
8 Is fluent in Sumerian, Sign Language, Russian, Japanese and Troll
9 Has some medical training- Mostly in first aid
10 Can make balloon animals
11 Gets nose bleeds when underground
12 He and Ray were kicked out of college for trying to reanimate the dead (most likely a reference to Reanimator)
13 Isn’t big on surprises
14 Has spare glasses in Janine’s desk
15 Is not fond of the ‘book bat’ phenomena
16 As a teenager he listens to Shakespear rap
17 He once switched bodies with Slimer
18 Considers fungus collecting a vacation
19 Named one of his computers Marsha
20 Almost always wears an old-fashioned nightshirt and cap when sleeping
Dr Peter Venkman
1 Birthday is October 25th, 1954
2 Dad’s name is Jim Venkman and he’s a conman
3 His mother had passed away
4 Is a bit Irish, German, French and Dutch
5 Eats peanut butter and onion sandwiches
6 Hates it when people mess with his hair
7 Loves old movies (mainly Westerns)
8 Played college football
9 Loves baseball, football, ping pong, fishing and hockey
10 Loves trains and train models
11 Plays chess with Winston
12 Hates Roller coasters
13 Carries around a nail file to pick locks with
14 Is bad at spelling and math
15 Attended Woodstock
16 Has a stash of snacks hidden under his pillow
17 Use to have his own show
18 The team had to play for his soul in a game of baseball
19 was turned into a rat by accident
20 Was sad that Bill Murray played him and not Robert Redford
#who you gonna call#ghostbusters!#egon spengler#winston zeddemore#peter venkman#ray stantz#the real ghostbusters#Ghostbusters 2#i aint afraid of no ghost
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Brian Murphy: A Beacon of Excellence in Accounting and Advisory Services
In the dynamic world of finance and business advisory, few names resonate as strongly as Brian Murphy. Renowned for his meticulous approach and broad expertise, Brian stands out as a pivotal figure in the Irish business landscape. With over 25 years of rich commercial experience, he currently spearheads the Corporate Advisory business in Ireland, specializing in value creation and elevating business performance across diverse sectors.
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A Distinguished Professional Path
As the director of a prominent company in Ireland, Brian's vast experience spans commercial, industrial, and technical arenas. His role involves leading Ireland & Corporate Advisory business, where he has been instrumental in driving growth and improving operational efficiencies for numerous organizations. Brian’s expertise covers a wide range of financial disciplines, including corporate finance, restructuring (both corporate and personal), and forensic accounting — a testament to his versatile skill set.
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Conclusion
Brian Murphy’s career is a beacon of leadership, expertise, and dedication. His comprehensive approach to solving complex business challenges, coupled with his commitment to the community and the profession, makes him a distinguished figure in the Irish accounting and business advisory
landscape. As businesses continue to navigate the complexities of modern economies, leaders like Brian Murphy remain indispensable in guiding them towards sustainable success.
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"I think- well, no. I definitely know that I want to marry you... Again, if we're getting technical." (Steph)
It was one thing Bucky had always appreciated about Stevie, was that she had always been direct and to the point, even when they were younger. She'd been raised by an single Irish mother who had made her own way in the world the best she could, and that drive and fire had been passed along.
He'd not seen her in a few months; he'd been incarcerated in the Raft awaiting his hearing - there was no real trial, as he'd not really claimed himself as not guilty, but a hearing to ascertain how culpable he was for what HYDRA had forced him to do. Thankfully, he'd had plenty of people come to his aid, and excellent legal representation from a pair of gents named Murdock and Nelson - and so now, he and Steph were walking through Prospect Park together for the first time in nearly eight decades, hand in hand - but away from the paparazzi that had hounded them in DC. He laughed a little, just a touch sadly - he'd lost his wedding ring when he'd lost his left arm, a long time ago, but at least Steph still had her own. He glanced at their hands, clasped, then up at her quietly.
"I suppose legally we've both been dead; that would end that marriage license. I bet we can get it reinstated, but...you want me to ask again? I think I remember asking not far from here, over by the Boathouse, back in 1936..."
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Why Study in Ireland-Major reasons
Might it be said that you are asking worriedly sensibly if moving to Ireland has changed into a much-had guaranteed longing dream for understudies looking for major-level status? With around 20,000 non-EU inhabitants early choosing to zero in on Ireland full-time, the nation is quickly making a grade toward the general fixing objective. There are a couple of convincing motivations to collect abroad in Ireland which makes this number develop quickly and the real country is changing into a more multicultural enlightening obsession. Ireland is other than advancing into cash strong regions for related for stunning one side of the world to the going with while simultaneously persisting through a couple of multinationals and remaining mindful of its rules of shocking status.
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For what reason might it whenever at some point at last be sharp for you to search for higher assessments in Ireland? There are a couple of convincing reasons and Ireland's fixing genuine parts that will move you to obliterate legendary entryways for planning in Ireland for general understudies. They set the going with:
Five-star Education System
Assembling Ireland has the first-in-class structure, stayed aware of by a piece of the best level relationship in Europe and general acclaimed illuminating degrees and endpoints. Schools in Ireland have progressed in a couple of fields including diagrams, science and improvement. Ireland is a striking and expected that considered spot point for quick evaluation too. In the year 2019, 28 experts in Ireland were worked with among the top 1% in the entire world for their driving liabilities. Ireland is correspondingly a spot that is known for informed showed trained professionals and cautious pictures like Oscar Wilde, James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, W.B. Yeats and Bram Stoker. There are sublime degrees in English Literature in Ireland. The Trinity College library in Dublin houses one of the world's most pressing books over the ages, unequivocally the 1000+ years old Book of Kells from the middle age period.
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Some Curious Tales About Cincinnati Streets And How They Were Named
Over the years, Cincinnati’s streets have been named, renamed, abandoned and vacated. The origin of some of our street names is lost in the mists of time and mythology. Here are a few attempts to sort the facts from the folderol.
Now That’s Plumb Curious
On the very earliest Cincinnati maps today’s Plum Street is labeled as “Filson Strret,” honoring the first local surveyor (and coiner of the name “Losantiville”) John Filson. By 1802, however, Filson Street had become – mostly – “Plumb Street.” There was enough confusion on this and other street names that City Council officially named the downtown streets on 12 February 1814, codifying that spelling, with a “B” at the end. One hundred years later, the Cincinnati Post [25 November 1914] claimed that it was “Plumb” Street “because other streets were platted plumb, or square, with it. While this may have been the case, there does not appear to be a contemporary record to support this theory. To the contrary, it seems that Cincinnati’s streets were “plumbed” westward from Broadway, originally known as Eastern Row. Additionally, it must be noted that the sweet purple fruit was known equally well as “plums” or “plumbs” up to around 1850. Whether by coincidence or not, all city maps after 1850 refer to “Plum Street.”
Beware The Indian Maiden!
As a useful rule of thumb, if you run across an origin story featuring an otherwise unidentified Indian Maiden, consider that legend – no matter the source! – to be unmitigated poppycock. For example, the Cincinnati Post [24 November 1914] claimed that Race Street got its name because two Indian braves raced down that primeval avenue to win the hand of a beautiful Indian Maiden. In reality, Race Street (and Vine, Walnut, Sycamore, etc.) was named by surveyor Israel Ludlow when he created to first official plat of the town. Ludlow used street names borrowed from Philadelphia. Be likewise suspicious of nostalgic old ladies. Mrs. Mary Lawton, aged 80, told the Enquirer [23 June 1929] that her own father, Nicholas Hoeffer, named Race Street after a racing track he owned at Washington Park. Not so, Mrs. Lawton, not so.
Don’t Touch That Name!
Cincinnati street names accrue sentimental ties in curious ways. In 1860, Rosetta Cobb, an elderly Irish Immigrant, sold off a plot of land in the ravine between Clifton and Clifton Heights. She filed a plat with the county naming all the subdivision’s streets for her daughters – Laura, Eveline, Christiana and Julia Ann. Over the years, property sales and redevelopment eliminated all of those streets except for Julia Ann. In 1992, the owners of Clifton Colony Apartments, located at the end of Julia Ann Street, petitioned the City of Cincinnati to change the name of the street because no one could find their apartment buildings. The city reasoned that Julia Ann Cobb and her mother were long past caring. Rosetta Cobb had gone to her reward in 1872 and Julia Ann had married Franklin Underwood in 1855 and moved to Memphis where she remained for the rest of her life. Hearing no objections, the city renamed Julia Ann Street to Clifton Colony Drive. One year later, Ronald Meyer, the city official in charge of street names, got an irate letter from a woman named Julia Ann, demanding Cincinnati change that street name back! Her parents – apparently no relation to the Cobb family – had named their daughter after that street and she considered it to be her very own street.
No Glory For Secretaries
If you can find them, Cincinnati named two streets to honor secretaries. Amthauer Street in Fairmount is sandwiched between Tremont and Harrison and runs eastward from Adler to Pinetree. Until 1908, that little lane was named Spruce Street, but was changed to honor Louise Amthauer, a secretary in the city clerk’s office, during a wholesale street retitling by the Boss Cox machine. Miss Amthauer was a dedicated Republican and later married the county GOP chairman. There is no signage for Amthauer Street, and no pavement – it’s only a paper street. Peggie Lane in Lower Price Hill is at least paved, but also lacks signage. In 1956, Margaret “Peggie” Funk was a secretary in the City Engineer’s Office. The City Engineer needed a name for the driveway abutting Oyler School. “Peggie” was brief, easy to spell, impossible to mispronounce and didn’t conflict with any other names in the system. But the cheapskates couldn’t spring for a sign to recognize Miss Funk.
Got You Under My Spell
Street names appear on street signs, obviously, but also on maps, directories, driver’s licenses and mailing lists. Sometimes discrepancies arise. Copelen Street in Walnut Hills marks the location of Fireside Pizza in the old Company 16 Firehouse. In 1930, the Cincinnati Post [17 December 1930] printed a “gotcha” story claiming the street sign was wrong because the city directory called it Copeland Street. The Post had to eat crow a few days later when Eugene Schellinger, city draughtsman, uncovered the 1855 ordinance naming that thoroughfare in honor of pioneering resident Isaac Copelen, insurance magnate and distinguished Mason, who once lived nearby. The Post got snookered again in 1964, complaining that Wolfangel Road in Anderson Township should be spelled “Wolfangle.” Tell that to the descendants of pioneer settler Gottfried Wolfangel! Not so easy to explain were the manifold misspellings of Whetsel Avenue, honoring Madisonville farmer and military hero Henry Bramble Whetsel. That road winds through three political jurisdictions. In the mid-1990s, an observant commuter noticed the correct spelling on Cincinnati’s signs, but Madeira spelled it Wetsel and Hamilton County opted for Whetzel.
That’s No Lady! That’s A Surveyor!
Jo Williams, born 1981, is a British speed skater and Jo Williams, born 1948, (now Dame Josephine Williams) is a British social worker. Neither of these ladies has anything to do with Jo Williams Street in Northside, which has been connecting Colerain Avenue and Blue Rock Road since 1853. “Jo” in this case is Joel Williams, one of Cincinnati’s earliest settlers. Williams competed with Israel Ludlow to draw up the official plat of Cincinnati. The town fathers chose Ludlow’s plat. Williams attempted to claim the Public Landing through a curious application of squatter’s rights but lost in court. He was more successful as an innkeeper, real estate investor and operator of Cincinnati’s first ferry. A stint as a surveyor has proven effective at getting a street named for you. Jo Williams’ nemesis, Israel Ludlow, is recognized by Clifton’s main drag, while (John) Filson Street, (Joseph) Gest Street and (Eli) Elder Street honor other local surveyors.
Not All Streets Have Happy Endings
Few people give a thought to Northside’s Gulow Street. It’s a short stretch of pavement with a few nondescript buildings and a parking lot, but it has an odd-sounding name. The street honors the memory of August E. Gulow, a merchant tailor who kept a dry goods shop at Knowlton’s Corner for many years. The little byway had been known as Oak Street, but City Council changed the name to Gulow in 1870. By 1900, Mr. Gulow was slipping into insanity, distraught after two daughters died from tuberculosis. The family did all they could to keep the old man out of an institution, but on 5 December 1901, he grabbed a razor and repeatedly slashed his stomach. He died six days later and is buried at Spring Grove Cemetery. His name lives on in that little street.
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When We Collide (Part 2)
Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.
A/N: Hey everybody! So first and foremost, thank you all so much for your responses to the first chapter of this fic. It has been exciting to wade into new waters, and this AU is exactly that for me. As promised last time, this chapter represents a jump into the future, and many of you might think to yourselves, wow, Emily, you really skipped a lot of stuff here. No worries, there will be some flashbacks and plenty of explanations going forward. I just don’t love angst so much, and wanted to get us to a better place before we relive some of the earlier parts of this CS love story. Anyway, thanks to you all for tuning back in and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Three Months Later
Packing up the last of his things in this shithole apartment, Killian was struck by how easy it was to say goodbye to a place he’d lived for months on end.
It was no hardship to close this chapter and to bid farewell to this hollow and lifeless space. Oh it had flair and style, and many would see it and acknowledge that by New York City standards this flat was a castle in the sky, with clean white lines and ample room considering the density of the city. But it would never be his style. His home – his real home - was nothing like this. It was free and open and warm. It was removed from the hustle and bustle, nestled away in a place of calm. Not like this place.
From the jump, Killian made sure to keep nothing of value stowed away here. There were furnishings included when he signed the lease, ones that spoke to his higher status in the syndicate, and which gave the right air of self-importance, should anyone ever come to check up on him. Yet there were no traces of him at all, despite the privacy and protection the place provided. He brought no remnants of his past or his real life to New York. There were no pictures, no mementos, nothing that he looked at and saw any real value in. Everything here was part of a façade designed to keep up with the lies he told to stay alive, and even that was kept to a bare minimum. Lies were easier to manage when there were less of them to own, and to an outsider, this place looked exactly like what it was – the crash pad of a man with very little time and little attention to decorative details. That never bothered Killian though, as this place was not important; it was merely a means to an end.
That end was grounded in one goal: kill the man they called the Crocodile. It was the only reason he’d ever come to New York, the reason he’d started this descent into the underbelly of society. It had driven him for years, the need to get revenge on a beast so sinister he couldn’t even be called a man. Slowly but surely, Killian had ingratiated himself into the world of this monster, climbing up the ranks of the man’s operation, earning tiny morsels of Gold’s trust, and getting ever closer to a moment where he could kill his enemy, ridding the world of one of its darkest beings. But then something unexpected happened – in the midst of total darkness, he’d found an angel, the only one capable of pulling him into the light. Emma.
Emma Swan was a rare gem in the midst of soot and ash. In the New York underworld, where Killian had been operating for over a year, he had never run into anyone like her, but three months back, when he was returning from a run, he’d encountered her for the first time. It was all a matter of chance really. He had only just arrived from his assignment monitoring a shipment of guns from the Irish to the Crocodile. His job was to survey the transaction, to make sure the Irish held up their end, and to ensure the guns made it from point a to point b. Then, right as he was reporting back for duty, another member of the crew was busted for skimming profits by Gold. Gold’s normal enforcer was tied up with a cartel issue, necessitating Killian’s retrieval abilities to be used for the first time. It was at first a sign from a higher power that he was moving up the ranks, and Killian appreciated that movement if it meant justice would come sooner. But then he saw Emma, and in the sight of such a heavenly gift, his whole world shifted. He hardly deserved her, stained as he was from the choices he had made and the things that he’d done, but from the moment they met, he was dead set on trying to be better for her and for the sake of their future.
Closing his eyes even now, he remembered that night so clearly. Emma was dressed in the bar’s uniform of a short black skirt and a revealing gold top. It was barely decent, designed to be leered at by patrons, and certainly not made for the long, grueling hours that she worked. But as he watched her strut about the place in those matching black heels no woman should be able to maneuver, Killian felt the pierce of cupid’s arrow at his breast. Her long blonde hair hung loose around her in cascading curls that tempted his fingers. He wanted to run his hand through it and see if it felt as silky smooth as those golden strands appeared. His eyes trailed down her body and he’d taken in her mix of slender curves and undeniable allure. Then he looked back to her face again, struck by its charm and classic beauty.
Just the sight of her was enough to leave him breathless, but when she looked at him and he watched her cheeks flush and her lip catch between her teeth, he was gone. She didn’t seem aware in the slightest of the situation she was causing just by existing. Maybe she thought she was attractive, she must, given the ogling eyes that emanated from every corner of the Lair, but the truth was Emma was temptation made flesh. It was like a star made of hope and possibility had come down from heaven and graced this dismal place with one of its own. Though the bar was dark, every light seemed to find its way to her and the rest of the world faded away. For a moment Killian had wondered if he were suffering from some kind of hallucination, but after blinking a few times Emma remained where she was. Thank Christ.
That first night, their meeting was too quick. They had no time to delve deeper or see if the spark of their first interaction was more than a moment, but Killian knew it was. The second he touched her, a thrill coursed through his veins, lighting him up in ways he’d never been before. At that moment, he realized he could never truly walk away from this woman. One subtle graze of skin on skin and he was hooked, addicted to her light and vibrancy. That made leaving her that night and every other night the past few months so damned regrettable, but now that was over. Tonight they’d be leaving New York, never to come back to this hell on earth, and for the rest of his days he’d stay with his Swan, protecting her, adoring her and loving her forever more.
Those thoughts of forever stayed with him as he double checked the apartment one last time. A final scan revealed what he expected – there was nothing of import to leave behind. His whole life fit in one small rucksack, and that was for the best. He didn’t want to prompt suspicion as he left, and his neighbors were used to seeing him with bags of this shape and size. It needed to look like any other night, and thanks to his carefully plotted attentions, it did.
Sitting behind the wheel of the vehicle he’d been using this past year, Killian started it up and heard the tell-tale purr of its sport ability. It was purposefully subtle, but anyone who knew cars knew this model was a beast on the road. Made for daring speeds and fast getaways, this car had been an accessory to a number of questionable moments, but none held the stakes he was facing tonight. He pulled out of the car park and drove, his awareness at an all-time high as he looked down at his watch. He had an hour to get somewhere twenty minutes away, but he used every minute to make sure he was safe and undetected.
Though no one was following him at any point of the drive, Killian made sure to take precautions. He took mostly side streets and alleyways that he’d studied now for weeks. Gold knew all the details of this car, and he was notorious for keeping track of his soldiers, so Killian had to be prepared. Gold had a connection to the police department and an all access pass to their street-search camera grid. More than 90% of the city was hooked into this means of surveillance, but Killian had studied that grid for weeks, and by now knew how to avoid nearly every camera.
When he finally arrived at the drop site, he was certain that no one had followed him and he was confident his movements were not noted. He then moved to the side of the dilapidated building he’d parked behind and took out his supplies. He had a crowbar to remove the license plates, and a blasting gun to cut out all trackable VIN numbers and different parts identifiers. He eroded those trackable features and then took the gasoline can he’d hidden in this building days ago and doused the car. He lit the fucker up, and watched the flames rise. With a blaze this high there was always a risk, but he knew this was out of the way and the burn would hurt nothing and no one. In ten minutes enough damage would be done to destroy any evidence, but even that wasn’t enough. His contact’s men would be here tomorrow to drag the wreckage to impound and have it compacted. There’d be no trace left of this car for anyone to find.
When enough time had passed for Killian to be certain the blaze would stay strong enough to work, he walked half a mile to the nearest bus stop. He traveled five stops rather quickly given the time of night, and then walked another quarter mile to the warehouse where he was set to meet the man who could get him out of here. By the time he walked up to the back door, the timer he’d set on his watch buzzed. He was exactly on time, but from what he could tell, he was the first to arrive.
Moving forward, Killian saw the shoddy looking tarp along the back wall and smiled. He moved to the object with purpose and pulled off the covering to reveal his bike. Damn he’d missed the old girl. He couldn’t keep any trace of this motorcycle while on his quest for revenge, but he couldn’t bear to give her up. Call him sentimental, but this machine was too beautiful and capable to abandon. It was the first splurge he’d allowed himself when he got out of the service, and the closest key to freedom a man could possess. For a long time, this bike had been his greatest love in life. But remembering that fact struck him in the gut. Now that he thought about it, that was pretty pathetic. He had never really understood love until Emma, and this moment made that all too clear.
“Is this the part where you tell me you’re having second thoughts?” a voice asked from behind Killian and without turning he knew it was Will Scarlet, his ticket out of what would otherwise be a sticky situation. Killian cursed at his lack of attentiveness. For Will to be able to walk in here without him knowing was not good, even if Will was a specialist at doing exactly that.
“Never,” Killian replied, finally meeting his friend’s gaze.
“Well, if you’re going to righteously piss off the most powerful man in New York, you might as well have conviction,” Will joked. Killian couldn’t join him in the lightheartedness, because he understood that under the teasing tone was all truth. The Crocodile would be pissed, but it didn’t matter. He’d be weighed down in a trap too strong to break out of, and while he wrangled with the crumbling of his empire, Killian and Emma would break away once and for all.
“You get the files?” Will asked, his face searching for good news. Killian laughed and produced the small flash drive Will had given him a month ago. He tossed it across the room to Will’s waiting hands.
“Have I ever failed you?”
“Not once,” Will said truthfully. “Makes me happy you changed your mind on all this. I know this wasn’t your first plan.”
Will was hinting at Killian’s original intention, which was to kill Gold, not turn his allegiances to the feds. Once upon a time a legal take down of this monster had been considered deeply unsatisfying. The only thing Killian thought he would ever accept was the knowledge that Gold was dead and by his hands, but that all changed with Emma. He couldn’t have his revenge like that and have her too, for a multitude of reasons. For one thing, logistically he’d never survive an assassination against the Crocodile. The man was highly guarded with too many fail safes in place for it to be a clean and easy kill. For another, he’d never be able to look his sweet Swan in the eyes again if he killed in cold blood. He’d taken lives before, but never in vengeance. It was always for honor, to protect the living, not avenge the dead.
“Plans change.”
“That they do, especially when there’s love involved.”
Killian didn’t even try to argue with that assessment from Will. He made no attempt to hide his feelings for Emma. In fact, he’d been candid from the start. When he reconnected with Will three months ago, a few days after meeting his Swan, he was honest from the start. He would help to bring Gold in, but his price was absolute.
“Did you hold up your end of the bargain?”
“You know I did,” Will said, producing papers that Killian looked over, knowing they’d be burned in a matter of minutes.
They said everything he needed to see – official signed approval from a judge that he had total and full immunity from all actions he’d taken as a member of Gold’s crew. An exemption of identification from the impending trial, and a promise that he and Emma would never be called to testify. Their names were so far out of this, the FBI had no server that held their names. Will had told exactly no one who they were except the judge, and the judge was clean and able to be trusted.
“It didn’t hurt when he saw your military record,” Will admitted, causing Killian to flinch. No one was supposed to see that. His work was always too classified for anyone to know. “But don’t worry, all history of that being accessed were completely erased. I used data protection NSA couldn’t crack.”
“And the reward money?”
“The funds have all been wired to the specified account. Emma is the only one with access, all of it under her new last name.”
Killian lit the pages on fire, trusting all of this to be above board. He didn’t dare to take them with him as they were traveling and he knew Will would have deposited needed copies somewhere they’d be safe. In the meantime, Will produced a pouch with new passports and IDs as well as a stack of cash. Killian raised a brow at the money and Will shrugged.
“I wasn’t sure how much you were taking with you, and that’s 3 months of CI pay I never gave you. Maybe you can stay in some half decent places. Treat your girl to something better than a Motel 6.”
Killian didn’t bother arguing with Will. He didn’t need the money, he’d brought plenty already, and he had more than enough stashed back home. But he accepted Will’s generosity and knew he’d use it to spend on Emma. God knew she deserved it, and he would find a way to make her happy, providing him the only reward he could ever want.
“What’s the temperature looking like this evening?” Will asked, and Killian took the question for what it was – Will wanted to know how much heat Gold and his men would be packing.
“Six Hungarians, two Russians, and the Irishmen. Anywhere from four to seven. Gold will be there, but not his son.”
“Neal fall out of favor again?” Will asked.
“He’s leaky,” Killian said, repeating Gold’s exact words.
The irony was not lost on him – it was only though Gold’s son that Killian had managed to get access to the server Gold kept hold of containing all of his extensive blackmail accounts for decades. Even with that though, there had been a need for hacking the system and Killian had needed Neal to get that done. Gold’s son was given just enough to think he mattered, but nothing near the whole scope of any issue. Still, the bust was going to focus primarily on the things Gold’s son did know, and subsequent prosecutions of Gold and his allies would be explained away as revelations that came from those initial breadcrumbs.
“Can’t deny that. His big mouth is the bedrock of this whole case. Well at least it was, until this. I owe you for this, Killian.”
“And I owe you. Without you I couldn’t have done this. For Emma and for me.”
“Well, the bust goes down in thirty more minutes. And you’ve got places to be. Wouldn’t want to keep the little missus waiting,” Will said, and though the words slammed into Killian, he had to push through. If he wanted to make that title a reality for Emma, not just on the papers they’d been given, they had to get out of here. The stakes were too high for them to mess around.
With a last goodbye to Will, Killian revved up his motorcycle and shot out into the night. He had one last spot to go to, and he just prayed that when he got there Emma would be there safe and sound. It was a risk, what he was asking her to do tonight, but she was so damn smart and savy, and above all, she was a survivor. He had to believe that she could do this and that it would all go exactly as it should.
What if she was discovered leaving? He thought, as he got closer to their hideout. What if the Crocodile has somehow discovered our plan? Hell, what if she’s changed her mind, or if she’s realized that she is worth so much more than a man who bears the scarring of a criminal?
These thoughts plagued him as he raced to the abandoned garment factory that was ten blocks from The Lair. It was way too close for comfort, but just outside of Gold’s highly surveilled radius. Ten blocks in New York at night was a worrying trek for anyone, but for Emma, a ‘ward’ of Gold’s who owed a debt, it was potentially fatal. The fear at what might happen if she was caught grabbed hold of his heart, and when his anxiety was about to take him over, he heard the soft echo of Emma’s knock on the wooden door. It was a sound pattern only the two of them knew and his heart leapt in relief as he moved to let her in. When he saw her there on the other side of the door, safe and looking like she could hardly wait to go, Killian felt like the luckiest man alive.
“You’re here,” he whispered, pulling her into him, his arms encircling her and pulling her close so he could breathe her in and convince himself he hadn’t dreamed her up.
“Of course, I’m here,” replied sincerely, her hand coming up to cup his cheek as her eyes searched his. Her smile was the most beautiful thing the world over, as was the soft laugh she let escape in the fact of his needless worry. “You promised me forever, Killian, and I intend to collect.”
Her words pushed him to action, and without thought to the fact that they needed to get going as soon as could be, Killian kissed her. It wasn’t a tame expression of his love either, but a scintillating symbol of his unyielding devotion to Emma and her pleasure. He would live every day of his hopefully long life worshiping her and trying to make her see how much he loved her. She was a miracle – his saving grace – and if he could make her feel even a fraction of the joy and happiness she brought into his life he would be happy. All of that promise he threw into this kiss, and when they finally broke apart, Emma’s responding expression told him she’d understood him completely and that she wanted him just as much.
“Forever isn’t enough,” Killian said honestly. “No amount of time could ever be enough with you, Swan.”
“I know,” Emma whispered before pressing one last soft kiss against his lips. “So let’s not wait any more. Let’s go home.”
Killian loved the sound of that, and though he had to keep his wits about him as they left the city, Killian couldn’t recall ever being so happy. With Emma’s hand in his, he felt like the king of the world, and when they both got on his bike, with her body pressed tightly against his back as they sped off in the night, he knew he was invincible and that he’d do whatever it took to get them out of this darkness and towards a life truly worthy of his love.
Post-Note: So there we have it. I know that these first two chapters have been shorter. I think there’s a very good chance that the chapters will get longer as the story develops. I just wanted to get us out of the darkness before I really delve in. Next chapter we will also go back to Emma’s POV and we will get her perspective of what freedom means to her, and what she wants in a life post-Gold. I am still really excited for this story, and I think it’s offsetting my muse well. Going back and forth between this and ‘Feels This Way’ which is like the opposite story line, is awesome, and I hope it keeps me on a good path writing wise. Anyway, I want to thank you all so much for reading. I would love to hear what you think, and as always, hope this chapter finds you well and enjoying your weekend!
#captain swan#captain swan fic#captain swan ff#cs fic#cs ff#cs fluff#cs angst#cs au#emma swan#killian jones#will scarlet#the whole storybrooke gang#ouat fic#cs mc au#cs mc#cs motorcycle club au#when we collide#when we collide au#when we collide 2
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{ B A S I C S }
LEGAL NAME: Dorothea Craven Unknown
NICKNAMES: Thea None
ALIAS: Conor
GENDER / PRONOUNS: Female / She/Her
AGE: 28 years old
DOB: January 25th, 1893 Unknown
PLACE OF BIRTH: New Orleans, Louisiana, USA Unknown
YEARS ON MERIDIUM: 99 years
ATTUNEMENT: Air
NATIONALITY: American Unknown
ETHNICITY: African-American, African-Haitian, & white ( English, Irish, French, & German ) Unknown
OCCUPATION: Pilot Unknown
LANGUAGES: English (fluent), French (fluent), Creole (conversational), ASL (elementary proficiency/conversational)
RELIGION: Agnostic
ORIENTATION: Demisexual Biromantic
DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: OCCASIONALLY | NO | NO
{ P H Y S I C A L A T T R I B U T E S }
HAIR COLOR: Black
EYE COLOR: Brown
HEIGHT: 5′-6″
WEIGHT: 134 lbs
TATTOOS: --
SCARS: --
{ P E R S O N A L I T Y }
TRAITS
+ spunky, daring, witty, charming, bold, dedicated
- challenging, outspoken, impulsive, reactive, skeptical
MBTI: ESFP
ALIGNMENT: True Neutral
LIKES: TBD
DISLIKES: TBD
GOALS/DREAMS: TBD
FEARS: TBD
{ R E L A T I O N S H I P S }
PARENTS
Unknown (mother) - Deceased
Unknown (father) - Deceased
SIBLINGS
Unknown
ROMANTIC
Unknown
{ B I O G R A P H Y }
trigger/content warnings: none
OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY
You were born to a small family, or at least you think you were. You might have been married judging by the tan line from a ring on your finger, but the ring is long gone along with any other kinds of belongings or items to indicate who you are. You can’t be too sure these days and it’s not because of the years that have passed on this island. The only thing you remember are the waves, the salty air, and the sand. When you woke up, everything was fuzzy and your head ached. How you got there, why you were there, and when you got there. You don’t even know when you’re from. Most importantly, you don’t even know yourself or who you’ve left behind.
When you first woke up, you were floating on a piece of wood and you just couldn’t seem to drown. When you woke up a second time, you were somewhere on an island, far away from anyone. You lived on the island for some time without having contact with anyone, hiding whenever you heard a strange noise, thinking you were alone on this island. You were scared because you don’t know who or where you are. Somehow though, you have enough sense and skill to take care of yourself. Eventually, someone finds you as you talk to yourself and mark the days you’ve spent on the island on a tree. You don’t know how they heard you, but they did. Once they told you everything was okay, all the dust settled and the breeze stopped blowing.
You choose a new name for yourself because you don’t remember your real one. You are shy at first, but soon take on a new personality. You aren’t too sure about how “new” your personality is, but no one on the island knows you or has even heard of you. The tan line on your ring finger slowly fades away and you begin to forget about who may be missing you. And as the years go by, you can’t even be sure what year you are from. You call yourself the woman out of time as you lose track and learn new things from new castaways. You live among the survivors unattached to people and you act indifferent and carefree, claiming you’ve moved on and live in the now. Still, you can only hope though that eventually, the next survivor will have some information as to who you are.
PRE-MERIDIUM
Dorothea “Thea” Craven, was born in 1893 and grew up in the early 1900s during the height of aviation. She became interested in flying at a young age and was very determined and adventurous. She eventually learned to fly and made it her life and a career.
Her family traveled quite a bit when she was younger and learning to speak, so she developed an interest in adventure and languages. Because of this, her accent is difficult to pinpoint. Some may call it a Transatlantic or Mid-Atlantic accent. Her free spirit never changed and she ultimately became a pilot. It is unknown what she was a pilot for whether it was for military, expeditionary, or show purposes.
When Dorothea wanted to become a pilot, she was not allowed to obtain a license at that time in the United States. She ultimately ended up moving to France for a time to take lessons and earn her license.
MERIDIUM
She crash landed in the water around Meridium while she was on a solo flying expedition. It is unknown how and why the plane crashed and whether it was a strange malfunction, pilot error, or sabotage. She has been unable to recover the wreckage of the plane and is unable to determine what really happened to her.
When Thea landed in the water, she hit her head and when she woke up, she had no memory of who she was or how she got there. She didn’t even know she was flying the plane that crashed. She woke up on a piece of wreckage from the plane and soon floated until she hit land. It is suspected her air attunement manifested shortly after landing in the water as she never drowned.
She landed on a side of the island where no one saw her and she thought she was alone. She survived on the island for a few days until she was found by the rest of the survivors on Meridium. Before she was found, she hid from any slight noise that was made, even if it was far away, which she didn’t realize was far away.
Since she didn’t know her name, she chose a new one for herself. She settled on the name Conor, but she wasn’t entirely sure why she chose it. It just spoke to her.
Conor doesn’t remember anything about where she was from, who her family was, or even what year she’s from. She remembers skills and some historical facts, but gets things confused, especially since she’s learned so much about current events from newer survivors.
More will be updated as Conor learns more about herself / as I figure out stuff.
{ A M N E S I A }
THE BASICS
Long story short, Conor remembers things about the outside world and basic things, but she doesn’t remember personal details about them or her own personal memories. It is unknown why she doesn’t remember anything and whether it is mental or physical trauma or something else.
Conor hasn’t made much of an effort to try and recover her memories because she finds it better to not remember what she’s lost than to remember everyone and everything she’s left behind. She’s seen what it’s like for other survivors to cope with the loss of their homes, families, friends, and their old lives.
Conor still gets easily confused about details mainly because over time she’s learned more about the outside world in more modern ways and gets them confused with what she knows and what she’s learned.
At times, remembering things or thinking about what she does know feels like an out of body experience. She remembers things but they feel so far away.
She thinks she must have been married or at least engaged because when she was found, she had a ring tan line on her finger, but has never figured out what happened. Conor does feel sad sometimes like she’s missing someone and may sometimes cry in private, but she’s learned to repress those feelings over time as she’s given up on remembering who they are.
She obviously knows she’s not from modern times or really any time after the 1940s, but she can’t pinpoint her actual birth year and when she grew up. With so much time on the island and spending so much time with more castaways from modern times, she feels much more modern.
EXAMPLES
Conor knows what a car is and how it operates and that the cars she knew were different than they are now, but she doesn’t know if she had a car, who taught her how to drive, or how cars look different than they do now.
Conor knows films exist and has seen older films such as A Trip To The Moon (1902), but she doesn’t remember that she knows about them because she saw them when she was ten years old and not because some film major crash landed on the island and told her about it.
Conor loves and misses music and listened to it a lot. She knows she listened to music on records, but couldn’t tell you specifically what her favorite song was (she does know of specific artists and songs) or if she ever went to parties where they played music.
{ I N T E R V I E W }
What do you remember last before landing here?
The woman looked at the person in front of her, searching for any words that made sense. She couldn’t think of a damn thing. It’d been a few days since she landed on the island and this was the first time she’d seen anyone. She was still surprised that anyone heard her when she spoke to herself. She was sure that she was alone. “I just remember…sand and water. The sun and the sky. I woke up on a piece of driftwood or something. There was some kind of fabric on it and when I thought I was going to drown because I was so exhausted and there wasn’t any kind of land in sight. When I woke up again, I was on sand and that was it.” She bounced her knee up and down as she stared at the person. “I can’t remember anything else. I-I don’t even remember my own name."
Have you ever killed? If so: why? If not: could you?
“I just told you that I don’t even remember my own name,” the woman replied. She knitted her eyebrows in frustration. Did they even hear what she just said? How could they even ask her something like this now. She looked around at the trees blowing over their heads and she let out a heavy sigh. The woman leaned forward and spoke in a low tone. “If I did, would you kick me off the island? Send me back to sea so I can die of heat stroke? Wouldn’t that make you a murderer too?” She raised her eyebrows. She leaned back. “Or did you want to know if I’ve killed someone so I can kill someone else so you don’t have to get your hands dirty?” The person in front of her didn’t seem amused. The woman bit the inside of her cheek. “Let’s just go with no. I haven’t killed someone. And if I did have to kill someone, it’s going to be because of self defense. If you want someone dead, you’ll have to do it yourself or find someone else."
What is your greatest achievement? Biggest regret?
The woman shook her head, laughing without humor. “Greatest achievement? Not dying on the open ocean,” she replied. Considering she didn’t remember anything, surviving a few days on an island by herself seemed like a pretty big achievement. “Biggest regret?” On the other hand, she couldn’t think of what she regretted. She came on the island by herself and couldn’t even say what year it was, which seemed awfully sad. She had a watch, so at least she could tell them what time it was, but there was nothing on it to indicate a year. “I guess I regret not having a calendar on me,” she told them.
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Mon premier mois en France!
“She said, ‘The title of the film is in English, so I’m not going to say it because Abbey will make fun of me.’“ - A friend translating what my French teacher said to the class.
This weekend marks the end of my first month in France! It’s crazy, if I’m honest, to think that an entire month has already passed by. I feel like I got here last week, but I also feel like I’ve been here forever. The thought of having to leave already makes me sad.
It’s been a good month, but busy. I’m slowly getting a hang of the school system. It’s stressful! They don’t have quizzes, and there’s hardly any homework, so all of our grades depend on tests that we seem to have almost once a week in every class. My teachers are still very understanding, which I’m happy about. I’m worried the grace period they’ve given me is going to end soon and then I’ll really be screwed. We’ll see. Other than that, everything else has been going really well! I still have friends (thank god) and they’ve already made plans to take me to Mcdonalds (or McDo, as they call it) once it reopens, and to show me their favorite places in Paris once we’re allowed. We do the best we can to tell stories with our limited understanding of each other’s language, but I’m slowly learning. My friends have started to teach me new words and grammar rules that I’ve been picking up each day. I’ve also just slowly been learning general concepts that I pick up from their speech. Like the way that they have three different ways to say Ok that aren’t interchangeable. Or the way that they say “Oh la la” in the same way we say “Omg”.
One of the biggest lessons I think I’m going to take away from my time here is that things probably are not as big a deal as you think. I tend to have a lot of anxiety, I overthink and get anxious about things I have yet to do. But while I’ve been here, I’ve learned that you really can’t get too hung up on stuff, or you’re going to freak yourself out. For example, last friday night when I came home from school, my host mom told me “Tomorrow, you can go to the neighbor’s house and make cakes with their daughter, they invited you over”. Obviously this was entirely terrifying as I had only met these people once and they spoke pretty much no english at all, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t overthink and worry about what would happen. I told myself “Well, I guess I’m going to the neighbors house tomorrow to make cake”, and that was that. If you let anxiety control your life, you’re never going to accomplish anything. If had let my anxiety make choices for me, I never would have stepped foot in my school. i never would have approached people or tried to talk to them. I never would have gone to the neighbors house and befriended their daughter. I never would’ve taken a bus and walked 4 kilometers up a hill from the neighboring town. You just have to roll with the punches and hope for a good outcome.
Speaking of the neighbors, it actually went really well! They are good friends with my host parents, and have a son my age and a daughter who’s 14. The girl, ChÏme, and I got on really well. We talked for a few hours in her bedroom, me in broken French and her in broken English with the help of Google Translate if we needed it. We also made chocolate cake (gateau au chocolat), it was really good. We have more plans to hang out in the future, since our houses are less than a minutes walk from each other. Yay to making friends!
I’ve tried to keep of list of weird things I’ve picked up on since I’ve been here (I tend to forget), so here it goes:
No one carries water bottles, and there are no public water fountains anywhere, including schools and shopping malls. No one really drinks water (in fact, I think they think I’m weird for how much I drink). At school, if you need a drink, you cup your hands under the bathroom sink and hope it doesn’t get on your shirt.
Speaking of school, there’s no toilet seats in the school bathrooms.
There doesn’t really seem to be a rule about what teachers can and can’t say or show to the class. My english teacher (a native french guy who spent a year studying in Northern Ireland. He has a very strong Irish accent) loves to say “What the hell” when someone is doing something weird. And he’s dropped the f bomb a few times. All in good humor, of course. In my speciality English class (I’ll explain that in a minute) we’re studying The Handmaid’s Tale - both the book and the series. So far we’ve watched the first two episodes, containing nudity, swearing, and just about anything that parents in America would complain about if teachers showed this to their students. It’s honestly really nice to be able to do and say things without having to make sure it’s “appropriate”, because in all honestly this is what the real world is like and it’s dumb to have to censor something just because someone says a “bad word”.
When we enter class, we’re not allowed to sit until the teacher allows us, and when a member of administration enters the room, everyone must stand until we are dismissed by the teacher. If the door to the room is closed, you must knock and wait for permission to enter. The relationships between student and teacher is very professional, and much for regulated than it seems to be in America.
Grades here are nothing to be secretive about, and the whole idea of “FERPA” doesn’t exist at all. Everyone knows and shares everyone’s grades. When teachers hand back our exames, the announce your grade and critique you to the whole class. It’s probably so you can learn from other’s mistakes, but it’s honestly a bit terrifying when you have no idea what the teacher is saying to you.
And lastly, on a completely different topic, it costs almost 2000 euros and many months of training to get your driver's license. Because of this, a lot of people drive without licenses or insurance. A lot of teens also have no intentions of ever getting their license (you have to be 18 to drive), and instead rely on public transport.
So, back to the “Speciality English class”, because the French school system works a bit differently. Highschool (”école”) is your last three years of schooling, so the equivalent of sophomore, junior, and senior year. I’m in première (literally means “first”, the french system for years works backwards) which is the equivalent of junior year, and seniors would be in terminale. When you reach première, you are required to choose a more specific course of study depending on what you plan to do in the future. Certain classes are required, like French, English, history, and science, but everything else is up to you. You have to choose three specialities (”spécialités”), which include math, science (chemistry or biology), english, philosophy, history, geopolitics, and two languages (from Latin, Greek, Spanish, and German). It might seem confusing, because some of the required classes are also speciality classes. Essentially, everyone has three hours of English language class each week, but if you choose English as a speciality, you have an extra four hours of English literature each week. The same goes for the other classes as well. I have three hours of history each week, but my friends with a history specialite have an extra two hours of history a week. Another odd thing is that classes like math aren’t required. Everyone takes chemistry and biology (and some have it as a speciality), but not everyone is required to take math. It’s honestly a really complex system that even I don’t completely understand yet, so please feel free to ask me more questions about it so I can try to explain it better.
And speaking of English class, we are currently learning about The Troubles of Ireland, including bloody sunday. You can infer that of course, of course, we had to talk about Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2. We spent two full hours analyzing the lyrics, the sound, and the music video of the song to “help us better understand what happened”. I’m sure my father will be very happy to hear about this. We also read a poem (in English, obviously) about Bloody Sunday. Of course, my teacher has the students read it so they can practice their english, but they can only read about four lines at a time. I wanted to join in, and he had me read a long stanza, telling the class “now you’ll hear how it’s actually supposed to sound”. When I finished, pretty much the entire class joked that I had an amazing accent, and I got a lot of thumbs-ups. It was pretty funny.
The French president also lifted some restrictions, as we’ve been in lockdown (”confinement”) since the start of October. Before, we were allowed within 1km of our house for only an hour, but now we are allows within 20km for three hours. Yesterday, I was finally able to see towns other than where I live and go to school. We ventured to the town where my host mom works, where they have a huge (huge!) shopping mall. It was fun! I got to taste my first real French macarons and my host mom bought me a cute tea mug that has the eiffel tower on it. In two weeks, we plan to spend the weekend in Paris, and stay with one of my host family’s sons. Lots of shopping and sightseeing ahead! I genuinely cried with excitement just thinking about it. And though we’re still under certain restrictions, the president plans to have most things reopened by christmas so people can enjoy the holidays. If that happens, we plan to spend a few days in Italy over the break! But for now, we wait.
That’s really everything I can think of for now, but I’ll try to keep everyone updated more! And I’ll post pictures right after I publish this. Feel free to ask questions about anything! Bonne journee!
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Walking distance to the nearest pub.
by ueberklaus:
OC from u/cremepat
Walking distances come from Google Maps. The data collection and mapping was done in R. My website has all my code and a more detailed overview of my methods, if you’re interested.
Pubs data comes from the following places, but you can get the final dataset I put together here.
- UK pubs come from the UK Food Hygiene API
- Irish pubs come from liquor licenses
- Isle of Man comes from Google Places
- Bare bits of Scotland were selectively filled in with Google Places. Turns out a lot of Scottish pubs are also hotels, and are coded as such in the Food Hygiene data so they didn’t get picked up. I checked these against Trip Advisor reviews: if a real live Brit described the place as a pub, I added it to the dataset.
Of course, this is meant to be lighthearted. Is 56.625, -4.25 really the absolute furthest spot from a pub? Probably not, but it’s the furthest spot I found 😊! Google’s API costs are too high for me to do a finer grained search.
A brief overview of my method:
Find as many pubs in the British Isles as possible (see above, over 60,000 found. Some may be more of a bar/nightclub, but there’s no good way to tell)
Create a grid of points over the British Isles. I used a fairly coarse spacing due to API costs.
For each point, find the closest pub by walking distance. Why walking? For one, driving drunk is bad! For another, Google Maps doesn’t always return driving distances if your points aren’t on roads.
Create a Voroni diagram, trimmed to the shape of the British Isles, to illustrate the walking distances.
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The Most Romantic Wedding Traditions from Around the World: Germany, Russia & Ireland
If you need to feature a slice of your heritage for your marriage ceremony, you are not by myself. Millions of couples are embracing their ancestry and choosing to contain a number of the first-class traditions from around the arena in their ceremonies here at domestic. Here are some of the maximum thrilling wedding traditions you might discover if you attended a wedding in Germany, Russia or Ireland. If you or your family are from this sort of countries, why not attempt adding a few phrases from your ancestor's local tongue on your wedding vows for a virtually memorable contact!
Germany
To fund her destiny wedding, while a child lady is born in Germany, numerous trees are planted and tended at some stage in her adolescence. When she is to be married, the bushes are offered to pay for her wedding ceremony and to act as a dowry. To assist defray charges of a honeymoon, pals and circle of relatives of the wedding couple will make a newspaper or newsletter featuring snapshots and articles approximately the couple's youngsters. This e-newsletter is sold at the wedding.
A German wedding ceremony can last as long as three days. There is first a civil rite, then the next day is a traditional ceremony. Finally on the third day is a religious ceremony. Guests convey old dishes to the second one night time's party to interrupt, and the couple sweeps them up. This symbolizes that their home will by no means be damaged.
As the wedding couple leaves the church, they throw coins to the children who have attended. A commonplace lifestyle is for the fine man to thieve the bride and take her to a neighbourhood pub, wherein they drink champagne and hide.
The groom needs to discover them and pay for all they drank. Also, earlier than leaving the reception corridor, guests block the door and call for free from the groom (normally within the form of a promise of a celebration) earlier than they permit the marriage couple to go away for his or her honeymoon.
Russia
What is referred to in western society as wedding earrings are in Russia known as engagement jewellery? These simple gold bands are worn on the ring finger of the proper hand. When a person is widowed or divorced, they will move the hoop to the left hand. The groom pays for the ring, despite the fact that the couple chooses them together.
A holdover from the days of communism is a procession of vehicles that arrives at the rite. Since big vehicles had been a sign of wealth, an attempt is made to hire one for the bride and groom. In addition, visitors to the wedding will every drive to the wedding on my own to increase the size of the procession. The groom traditionally takes the bride to the church, but earlier than he's allowed to accomplish that, he must pass a chain of demanding situations placed up by her family and pals, which include trivialities questions, physical limitations, or even a real climb as much as the bride's window.
Marriage ceremonies are held within the licensing workplace and should be witnessed. Although church weddings are held, they don't have any felony significance, so they are frequently held after the felony rite. At the reception, it's far standard to drink to extra, with a chain of toasts provided to the bride and groom. Prior to leaving the reception corridor, the bride is stolen away via the pals of the groom. He must then find her and pay her ransom. This can manifest several times, so the groom ought to be ever watchful of his new spouse.
Ireland
Instead of wedding bands, increasingly more Irish couples are selecting to wear the Claddagh ring. This design has a coronary heart being held on both aspect with a hand, and a crown on the pinnacle. Wearing the ring at the left hand with the heart dealing with you suggests marriage, carrying it with the heart dealing with away manner you are single. The ring may be used as an engagement ring or a wedding band and is often surpassed from mom to daughter.
As the bride and groom depart the church, they throw a handful of coins into the group of waiting visitors. The bride will carry a horseshoe with her for luck in the course of her marriage. This is normally sewn into the get dressed, even though it is probably a plastic cake ornament nowadays. Truly conventional Irish weddings are held only from April thru October, however never within the month of May due to superstition. This half of the 12 months is taken into consideration the "mild" half of. Mead, which is a honey wine, is served at Irish receptions and is assumed to be the source of the word honeymoon. It is a concept to boom virility and fertility and is consequently in great abundance at weddings. As the bride and groom depart the reception corridor, there are frequently bagpipes stationed simply outside to play them to their waiting automobile, which whisks them away to their honeymoon spot.
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