#as in current when the oktoberfest takes place
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Europe 2022 - Day 17 - Munich
I was glad to get into Munich (München in German) on the final day of Oktoberfest, and I also just so happened to be here on one of Germany’s national Holidays, Germany Unity day! From Wiki:
It commemorates German reunification in 1990 when the Federal Republic of Germany (West Germany) and the German Democratic Republic (East Germany) were unified, so that for the first time since 1945 there existed a single German state. German Unity Day on 3 October has been the German National Holiday since 1990, when the reunification was formally completed.
I followed the signs that routed us through Theresienwiese and around to Oktoberfest, where I was treated with a lovely walk.
And before I even got in the gates, was greeted by this:
Look at that girl’s face. She does not want to be there.
And this place was huge. How big? I took a lap around the main thoroughfare (which is still inside the area, as opposed to the outer ring) and it was a mile long. It was very similar to the volksfest I went to in Stuttgart, but larger. In fact, if you are someone who’s claustrophobic, this would not the place for you. It was packed, and due to the carnival rides and food and such, is quite family-friendly. Turns out it’s not all about drinking beer. ;)
I took a few shots to try and show the immenseness, but it was tough:
Did you know at this event in 2014, 16.2 million pints of beer was drank? I don’t even want to know the bratwursts eaten numbers.
While it was cool to say I had been there, I found myself wandering around and not wanting to drink the high-priced beer or eat the food, so I left. I briefly thought about asking some folks to take some pictures of their spectacular lederhosen and dirndls, but the language barrier and just way too many people made it feel prohibitive. Still, I got to say I was here!
I meandered over to old town - I got lost trying to find the U-Bahn, so I just walked. I’ve never had such a directional orientation issue as I do in this town! I made my way to the hub of the city, and saw some beautiful sites.
Sorry for the photo dump: there was just a lot of pretty things.
I then went to Olympiapark München, home of the the 1972 Munich summer Olympics. It was eerie walking there - the streets were like a ghost town - I assume it was the holiday and last day of Oktoberfest - maybe everyone was somewhere else? Now if you know anything about the Olympics (at least the more modern ones), you will hear that usually hosting is actually a drain on the host cities. Not this one. These facilities are still used, and the park and architecture is fabulous. The park is celebrating its 50 year anniversary! Upon entering, from the north, I was greeted with the signature canopy architecture - in this case, it reminded me of a scarab (Rhinoceros) beetle.
Here is the stadium, currently undergoing some light remodeling:
Oh, and if you’d like, you can walk across the roof and zipline off of it! That’s a big no from me, dawg...
I went to the arena, but they were warming up for a concert, so I couldn’t peek around, but guess who’s still out there touring?
I also checked out the Olympic pool, still in use, and still cool-as-hell:
The sun was getting low, and I had spied a hill in the distance (also turns out this is a place my current host, Moritz, had suggested), so I hiked over and watched the sun set, a got another view of the park, where the plexiglass panels now reminded me of a spider’s web.
One of my top 10 favorite parks, hands down. I walked back to the apartment (I logged more than 8 miles today) and had a well-earned beer. Since there are so many beers here, I have found myself being picky about the ones I like. Of course I love Hornberg’s own Ketterer, but I also found a new favorite:
And then is was off for food, or so I thought. See, I made a terrible choice in not packing a little extra food. Not only are stores closed on Sundays, but also bank holidays, as are some restaurants! It’s for sure ok if you live here and are planning for it - not so much if your diet subsists on daily grocery store visits. So it was too late for food, and I exhausted most of my backpack supply and rando snax I had picked up. It’s ok - shopping tomorrow, and more exploring!
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Day 7: Zurich-Hamburg
23.07.2022
Accomodation: Holiday Inn Hafen City
Travel time: 7h 43min
Arrival at the „Hansestadt“
Another day, another long train ride. But after the one yesterday had passed so quickly, I was also looking forward to this one. The only thing that made me worry for a bit was the fact that I had not been able to book a seat reservation and the trains were very full these days. So I decided to be at the station early enough to get a free seat, which worked. I even got one with a table so that I could work an my laptop and therefore the eight hours passed extremely quickly and I really enjoyed the ride through Germany.
I arrived in Hamburg in the late afternoon. The train was only eight minutes late which was not that bad for the Deutsche Bahn who was very well known for their delays. 60% of their trains did not arrive on time these days. That‘s what my friend Matthias told me when he picked me up at the station and with whom I would spend my days here. He himself has had a huge odyssey travelling to Hamburg the day before and knew what he was talking about.
We quickly dropped off my backpack at the hotel (yes, I was staying at a hotel for once) before we made our way to the Elbphilharmonie which is, like our hotel, located in the so called Hafencity. The Hafencity is the area of Hamburg at the harbour that is currently being expanded and kind of a new city area is being built here. The buildings are all very modern but somehow still managed to perfectly blend into the old part of the harbour, the Speicherstadt. The Speicherstadt had been the tax-free area of the early harbour of Hamburg where the trading goods have been stored. And since only this small area, separated fron the rest of the city by the canal, was tax-free, the buildings are all very narrowly built together, making the most of the area available. As a result, the Speicherstadt is the world’s biggest historical warehouse complex and UNESCO world heritage and nowadays home to museums and tourist attractions such as the Miniatur World.
Our first stop this late afternoon was the Elbphilharmonie: It was finished in January 2017, contains both a hotel on the upper and a concert hall on the lower level and it’s one of Hamburg‘s landmarks. It was designed by Swiss architects and was supposed to cost 77 Million Euros but ended up costing 800 Millions instead. Slightly miscalculated. We took the escalator to reach its balcony from where you get a very nice view over the harbour area.
Since it was already evening we decided to have dinner before going to the „Dom“, a folk festival currently taking place that reminded me of the Oktoberfest. We tried some „Schmalzkuchen“ which was being sold everywhere and must be kind of a speciality. It’s basically small pieces of dough being fried and then covered in or more drowned in huge amounts of powder sugar. It wasn‘t the best either the worst thing I‘ve ever eaten, but still kind of worth a try. Just like fried bred with sugar so slightly salty and sweet at the same time.
Just next to the Dom there was the Reeperbahn, europe‘s biggest red light district in the city part called St. Pauli. Since we were tired we didn‘t spend too much time there and had a lot of fun driving together on one of the scooters back to the hotel where I fell into the most comfortable bed I had been sleeping this week.
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more info on native countries & jobs:
- luffy (& ace): brazil, firefighter (& free surfer)
- zoro: japan, police officer (criminal affairs bureau, drugs & firearms division)
- nami: sweden, chilcare worker (& amateur model)
- usopp: cameroon, graphic designer
- sanji: france, beauty salon worker (& amateur chef)
- vivi: egypt, archeologist
- chopper: canada, elementary school teacher
- robin: russia, flight attendant (& hobbyist linguist)
- franky: usa (california), pilot
- brook: austria, detective (& hobbyist musician)
- jinbei: hawaii, fisherman
- law: germany, surgeon
- bepo: japan, judo instructor
- shachi: germany, tattoo & piercing artist
- penguin: germany, zookeeper (& works in an animal shelter)
- ikkaku: germany, mechanic
- lami: germany, pediatrician
- corazon: spain, hospital clown
supernova & other friends under the cut
- teach: somalia, archeologist
- kidd: scotland, weapons merchant
- killer: norway, pasta shop
- bege: italy, shoe shop
- apoo: china, dj
- hawkins: egypt, interior design (& fortune teller)
- x-drake: turkey, zookeeper
- bonney: australia, pizza shop
- urouge: india, cabaret club manager
- sabo: uk, journalist
- koala: uk, journalist (& pro karateka)
- marco: poland, aid worker (unicef)
- nojiko: sweden, tattoo artist
- bell-mère: france, police officer (gdes, intelligence agency)
- kuina: japan, kenjutsu champ & instructor
- smoker: japan, police officer (criminal affairs bureau, drugs & firearms division)
- tashigi: japan, police officer (criminal affairs bureau, drugs & firearms division)
#native countries#current jobs#as in current when the oktoberfest takes place#please note that a lot of characters don't live where they were born at that time as well#will edit later#oktoberfest au
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The beginning
TW: slight childhood abuse
It was a long day for the German male. He had been hired by someone named the administrator to come and work for some team called the Red team. He had traveled all this way from Cochem, Germany. The long flights had exhausted the poor Scientist’s mind, and the thirst for new experiments and science was making him feel super drenched. Seeing that he appeared to be the last of the nine in his team to show up, he felt a bit out of place. Most of them sounded American which was good since he had learned from a young age that language from his private teacher his dad had hired back when he was twelve.
Alright, so someone from Boston...a southern.. and some loud, aggressive American patriot...
Granted, he wasn’t the best at deductions and was considered more of a pro at medicine. However, he was still trained to look out and observe more than most. Moving on from that, he saw someone wearing a hat that was currently sitting in a corner propped up against the wall with a sniper rifle close by. Another one was as drunk as some of the people he had seen in the taverns back home. Or what he saw all the time at Oktoberfest. This was already making him feel homesick. He was able to slink around gathering more info from the ones he had passed, although one did seem to be missing.
He was finally able to find his lab, the one his employer had mentioned before he had taken the job. He was quick to hurry in, closing the door behind him. He didn’t like socializing with new people. The only new people he ever really talked to were the ones that had found their way onto his examination table, and most of them were unconscious.
Alright, let’s review what I know...my purpose on this team is to make sure my teammates don’t die. I’ll be healing any and all injuries, although if some of my experiments happen while they’re here in my lab, that’s just science. There will be multiple people trying to kill me. Besides me, there’s only one other healer, but he’s on the opposite team. The medical surgeries that I had to have before coming here are going to allow me to respawn.
The male couldn’t take it anymore and found himself walking over to his examination chair and laying his oh-so-heavy body on it. The long curly hair dropped over his face in the shape of a long curve covered over his left eye with the scar of a checkmark, a sign of an unhappy childhood. He felt his heavy red eyes come to a close, and he felt too tired to take off his circular glasses.
He was just about to fall asleep when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and a blanket drop over him. Unfortunately, due to that unhappy childhood, he was a light sleeper. The Doctor let out a groan before seeing a masked male in a red suit, a red balaclava, and a nice-looking hat with a feather in it.
”Pardon me, Doctor, sorry to pop in unannounced.”
So this was the one that was missing earlier and, given that thick accent, a French man.
”That’s ok mein freund.”
The German said, raising up, smiling a bit, seeing the blanket. Not getting that much affection, he grew to enjoy the little things people did for him.
“I have to ask who are you and what’s with the mask?”
. He was too a man of privacy and wearing masks. He had one of a plague doctor with red swirls for cheeks and a brown beak for a mask when he was working, but the thought of wearing one all the time was quite bothersome.
“I am the Red Spy of our team. My identity is a known secret, unlike yours, Doctor Richter, or would you prefer me to call you Medic or perhaps Aristotle?”
The French male said with a classy and sly grin.
This surprised the male to an extent already knowing his name. What else did he know about him?
“Since Medic does seem to be what our employer wants me to be called, I’ll go by that. Although like this, I wouldn’t mind being called Aristotle.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do. Now that our introductions are out of the way. Tomorrow will be the first day of our new job and while I would suggest training with the others. It does look like your flight from Germany made you exhausted. Get some rest. I’ll come back later.”
Spy said, already making his way towards the exit.
“Danke Spy. Vielen Dank, das ist wirklich sehr nett. “
The Medic already had laid back down, pulling the blanket closer. Slowly falling back asleep, needing the much-needed rest for tomorrow.
#tf2 medic#tf2 oc medic#tf2 oc#tf2 ocs#tf2#wtf am i doing#tf2 fanfiction#tf2 spy#tf2 bush medicine#sniper x medic#medic x spy#tf2 ships#thank you for reading#my writing stuff#tired medic#classy spy#I don't know how to speak or talk german so I used google translate#I need to learn german#someone tell me if this is good or not#struggling tf2 writer
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Life Meant Nothing Until You Used My Toothbrush (1/1)
If asked, Emma Swan would easily tell anyone that Killian Jones is her best friend. He makes her laugh, knows all of her favorites movies, and most importantly, he knows how she takes her coffee. Then again, he does own the diner she frequents every single day.
But they’re just friends. That’s all. It doesn’t matter how many people in the quirky small town of Storybrooke think otherwise. They are not going to date. That’d just be weird, especially considering Killian is her brother’s best friend too. It’s simply not happening.
Emma is very obviously a liar.
Rating: Mature
A/N: Not a single one of my stories for @csseptembersunshine is the original fic that I planned on sharing, but inspiration strikes in weird ways! Inspiration for this little thing came from the hope for fall to be here and the obligatory watching of Gilmore Girls (obviously ignoring season seven and the revival lol) when that happens ❤️
Thanks to @captainsjedi for being a sweetheart and organizing this event!
Found on AO3 | Here |
Tag list: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @tiganasummertree @xellewoods @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @searchingwardrobes @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @shireness-says
-/-
“Coffee.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I need coffee.”
“You need to drink three bottles of water and eat about sixteen servings of fruit.”
Emma taps her coffee cup and holds it up in the air. “I need another serving of coffee.”
Killian narrows his eyes at her, the blue disappearing into black slits that are full of trepidation and suspicion as he looks between her face and her coffee mug. She knows that she’s already had two cups – two very large cups – but she spent all last night talking Ruby through her breakup with Victor and eating copious amounts of ice cream so that she desperately needs coffee before she walks across the street and has to sit in her office all day staring at a computer screen as she writes an article for the Storybrooke paper on the paving of the high school parking lot.
Riveting.
But actually boring, and she needs to be on a caffeine high right now so that she can at least make it for the next few hours before she inevitably crashes looking up the density and lifespan of whatever type of concrete they’re using.
It was debated at the town council meeting, but she can’t remember. She usually zones out of those too.
Top-notch reporting from her.
“Fine,” Killian grumbles in his usual cheery-morning tone of voice before he takes the cup out of her hand. For someone who owns a diner and is literally tasked with making charming small talk all day, he doesn’t really turn on the charms for her. Then again, why in the world would he turn on the charms for his best friend’s younger sister? That would just be weird. “But I’m giving you a takeout bag with a salad and some fruit, and I want you to check in with me to show me just how much water you’ve been drinking, aye?”
“You are ridiculous.”
He doesn’t respond to that, taking her mug away, and it’s then that she realizes that he’s taking her mug away instead of refilling it with coffee. The asshole is trying to get away without giving her another cup.
“Hey,” Emma calls out, getting up from her table and following him behind the counter, “what are you doing with my mug?”
“I’m getting you – oh bloody hell,” Killian mutters when he sees her behind the counter, and he immediately puts the mug down on the back counter and places his hands on her hips to walk her out back to the open side of the restaurant. “How many times do we have to talk about the fact that you are not allowed behind the counter?”
“I think around seventeen times, and then I’ll have it memorized.”
Killian rolls his eyes, but there’s a playful smile tugging on his lips that has Emma marking a mental checkmark in her win column of this little back and forth game that they play.
“I’m getting you a to-go cup because I know you have to be at work soon, and I wouldn’t want you to be late. It is such a far walk, you know?”
“It’s like I’m running a marathon every time.”
“Exactly.” Killian places his hand on the small of her back and moves her forward. “Go sit down, and I’m going to bring everything out to you before I have to take care of my actual paying customers.”
“That’s not fair. I’ve told you I would pay.”
“You don’t get to pay, love. It’s your own special discount.”
Emma shrugs her shoulders before pressing up on her toes and kissing Killian’s cheek. “Thanks, Jones. I want – ”
“Hazelnut creamer, I know.”
When Emma leaves the diner ten minutes later, to-go cup and brown paper bag full of healthy food in hand, she steps out the door and into the crisp fall air that has her taking a deep breath and taking it all in. Fall in Storybrooke is a magical time. Even thinking that, she knows that it’s cheesy, but she doesn’t care. There have been so many horrible things that have happened in her life, rough childhood and bad breakups that have left emotional scars that might as well be tattooed on her skin, and if she wants to be someone who simply loves when the leaves begin to change to hues of gold and red that fall to the ground so that there’s a constant crunching under her boots when she walks, she can.
And Storybrooke, well, Storybrooke is special.
It took her leaving for college and living in Boston for four years to realize that, but she did realize it.
Eventually.
This place is full of quirky characters, ones that she still can’t quite believe are real (some of them seem so much like fairytale characters that she has to blink a few times to make sure this is actually real life) and little ticks and oddities that probably exist in every small town in America but feel like they’re entirely unique to this town. Seriously, they have a festival for everything. Last week there was one because the nuns found their lost cat.
Weird but surprisingly fun.
In the middle of November, there’s a festival that celebrates the founding of the town, and there’s all kinds of booths full of games and a big firepit with a s’mores bar and all of the spiked hot chocolate in the world. Okay, so the spiked hot chocolate isn’t for everyone, but Granny makes hot chocolate and Killian brings his flask of rum and pours a heavy dosage into her mug.
Bless him for providing her with all of her liquid needs.
Wait. That sounds weird, but it’s true.
And that festival is just in the middle of the Halloween bash and then Thanksgiving, which always seems to be a town-wide event instead of something they do with all of their individual families. That’s a blessing in disguise because her family involves her brother, his wife Mary Margaret, Mary Margaret’s dad, and Mary Margaret’s evil stepmother.
Emma shudders at just the thought of that, but she pushes it down, takes a deep breath, and walks across the street to go to the newspaper’s office so that she can write the damn article on the concrete.
What a life.
-/-
“Em,” David asks from the kitchen in his loft, “do you want a beer?”
“Do you have any wine?”
“It’s the first day of October, which means we’re celebrating Oktoberfest, which means beer.”
“Technically,” Killian starts from his spot on the couch next to her, “they start Oktoberfest in September, so we’re about ten days late to the party.”
“Shut up, Quiz-master Jones. You don’t have to be a know-it-all.”
“Boys,” Mary Margaret scolds, “be nice.”
“Oh no,” Ruby sighs, very literally popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth, “let them keep going at it. I think it would be pretty hot to have them punch each other.”
Emma throws up in her mouth a little, poking a finger at her tongue to let everyone know it, before shifting her legs on the couch so that she can prop her feet up in Killian’s lap and let him massage her through her socks. She doesn’t even have to ask. She simply wiggles her toes and voila – he knows.
Like magic.
“First of all, that is my brother you’re talking about there.”
“Adopted brother so no actual genetic relationship,” Ruby corrects.
“Still brother,” Emma whines with disgust as Killian’s magical fingers start working at the arches of her foot. “And Killian is basically a brother and – ow shit,” she groans, propping herself up to look at Killian where he absolutely just murdered her foot. “What the hell was that for?”
His jaw ticks for a moment before a shit-eating grin graces his face. “Sorry? It was an accident.”
“You are a liar.”
“I most certainly am not, Swan.”
“Yeah, yeah you are.”
“I am not,” he teases, waggling his brows across his forehead, “and I’ll have you know that I do look hot while throwing punches. Or at least that’s what the woman who hit on me at the gym last week said.”
Her stomach churns, probably in want of the Chinese food that is currently on the way to the loft, and she ignores it in favor of kicking her foot out at Killian only for him to hold her still.
“When did you get time to go to the gym? You are literally always in the diner.”
“I go in the mornings.”
“The mornings? You open at five.”
“I go to the gym at four.”
“Huh,” Emma sighs, glancing over at him. “So there are secretly really buff muscles under all of that plaid?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Her eyes slant at him, wondering what exactly would be the best way for her to answer his question, and there’s a witty retort on her tongue when Ruby speaks.
“Hell, you two need to get a room and bang all of this sexual tension out before we all implode.”
“Talk about gross,” David groans, bottles of beer clanking in his hands that he passes over to everyone. She kind of wants to press the cold glass to her cheeks to cool them down since they’re absolutely flaming right now at the thought of all of that. “Killian sleeping with my sister is a far grosser thought than you saying it would be attractive for me and Killian to punch each other.”
“And just what about that is gross, David?” Emma questions, tugging her feet out of Killian’s lap since he’s stopped massaging them. “I am almost twenty-eight years old. I have sex.”
“With who?”
“Okay, now that’s getting a little personal,” Killian says in between several loud coughs. “We are all sexual human beings who think sex is great, but we don’t have to know who is sleeping with who. Unless, of course, we’re talking about Dave and Mary Margaret since they are obviously sleeping with each other.”
David mock gasps, so dramatic that Emma has to laugh underneath her breath and tuck her cheek into the couch cushions at her brother’s actions.
“Who told you that? I thought it was a secret.”
“I think the wedding rings gave it away, mate.”
“Damn,” Mary Margaret curses as she twists off the top to her beer and takes a sip, “we’ve been foiled. I knew we couldn’t keep the secret for that long.”
“You guys are disgustingly cute, and I hate it,” Ruby groans, sinking further into the recliner and pulling the gray knitted blanket up further over her legs. “Love is dumb, and you guys are dumb for finding it and being all happy.”
“Still upset about Victor then, love?” Killian question as he reaches over and takes Emma’s beer out of her hands and opens it for her since the damn twist top didn’t seem to be working. “He’s a certified asshole, and you deserve better.”
“Oh, believe me, I know that,” Ruby says with all of the confidence in the world, something the girl is never lacking. “It was just really, really good sex.”
“But not a love connection?”
“No,” she sighs, “not a love connection. It’s…I mean, it’s dumb, you know? I have never been someone who needed a relationship. I still don’t. But there’s something nice about the idea of having someone around who I can talk to about things, honestly talk about things, but then also give me mind-blowing orgasms. Is that too much to ask?”
Emma tilts her beer back so that the cool liquid hits her lips. “Depends. Have you met men in general? They’re kind of lacking in those departments.”
“Okay,” David sighs, clapping his hands together, “let’s move on. What game do you guys want to play tonight?”
“Shit happens,” Emma and Killian both say at once, each of them reaching forward to high five the other. “You picked last time, and it is my birthday month so it’s my turn.”
“You don’t even like your birthday.”
“I do when I can use it to my advantage like this.”
“Fine,” David sighs, walking over to the television stand and opening up the cabinet where they keep the games. “We’ll play Shit Happens.”
-/-
October passes in a quick breath of chilled Maine air that has Emma layering up on sweaters and her far too many jackets and a couple of flannel shirts that she’s pretty sure she borrowed from Killian and never gave back.
(They’re super comfortable and soft and smell like cinnamon, so she’s definitely not giving them back now.)
Work is busy, as always, and Emma continues to spend her days sitting at a desk writing up silly articles about what’s going on in town and very occasionally something of substance like the economic ramifications of a new gas station on the outskirts of the town line. One day maybe she’ll find something different to write, one of those articles that ends up in the New Yorker or the Wall Street Journal and everyone becomes angry with it and sends her hate mail over it, but for now, she’s good with this. It’s relaxing to be able to slam her fingers against a keyboard and create something from nothing when she was very much used to having nothing growing up in foster homes throughout the state of Maine.
Well, it was only three, but it always felt like more.
And then there was sweet Ruth Nolan who adopted her at seventeen, right before Emma’s eighteenth birthday, because she wanted Emma to know that she was never too old to find a family and to be able to keep that family forever. The forever part always felt like a cruel joke when Ruth unexpectedly passed two years later, but Emma will always have David. She’s never been surer of anything than that.
But she’s also sure of the fact that on days when the articles simply aren’t writing themselves from her office, she can walk across the street and around the town square to go into Killian’s diner and bug him while he’s in the middle of the late lunch rush. She used to do this with Granny at her diner, but then Granny very legitimately kicked her out for causing too many distractions with Ruby because they’d talk too much, and she’s only allowed to come back during non-busy times.
(Emma always goes whenever.)
Right now, though, she can’t focus on this preview article for this year’s town-wide haunted house for Halloween, so she closes down her laptop and picks it up before telling Sydney that she’s going out to do research. He knows that it’s a lie. He can always very clearly see her across the street sitting at a barstool, but he never says anything unless she misses her deadline.
She never misses her deadline.
The bell over the door rings when she walks in, and Killian doesn’t even acknowledge her presence. She knows it’s because he most likely saw her walking across the street, and when she settles down at her usual barstool – it might as well have her name monogrammed on it – he quickly slides her a mug of coffee and a bear claw.
“Hi, love,” Killian greets, leaning over the counter to brush his lips over the top of her head. “The internet is a bit slow right now, or so I’ve been very rudely told by the group of teenagers who should be in school, so you might have a bit of trouble working.”
“It’s fine. I was having trouble working and was coming over her to tease you about your never-ending collection of flannel shirts and baseball hats anyways.”
Killian rolls his eyes before taking off the Yankees cap that he has on, his inky black hair a mess underneath, and reaching over to plop it down on top of her head and over her ponytail. “Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll come chat with you to distract you. I’ve got to cook a few more hamburgers.”
“Ooh, make me one.”
“As you wish.”
In her fifteen minutes of waiting for Killian to finish working, not that he ever finishes working, she picks up her bear claw and takes a bite before swiveling around on her barstool and looking out the windows to see what’s going on out on Main Street. It’s nothing much, just the usual foot traffic, but then she notices that each and every storefront has already started construction on their Haunted House contributions, even if some of them are more cutesy than anything else.
Every storefront except this one.
And that’s when she realizes that Killian is trying to get out of participating again like the big spoil sport that he is.
“Jones,” she calls out, walking behind the counter and past the double doors that lead to his kitchen.
“Swan, you cannot be back here. We’ve discussed this.”
She has no idea when he’s ever going to learn that she doesn’t follow the rules. “Why haven’t you started decorating for the Haunted House thing? Halloween is in three days. It’s going to take time.”
There’s a sizzle as he flips over a burger, his back turned to her so that she can’t see his face, but she knows him well enough to know that his brows are likely pinched together in that annoyed way that has to cause him migraines.
“You know I’m not participating. It’s a waste of time and money, and I have no idea how I’d even decorate.”
One of those figurative lightbulbs goes off in Emma’s head, and suddenly she has an idea that’s going to waste all of her time and completely and totally distract her from the work that she’s supposed to be doing.
“Meet me at the craft store when you close.”
“The craft store will be closed and no.”
“I have ways to keep it open,” Emma sighs, walking forward so that she can see Killian’s face and the pinched brows that are, indeed, there. “C’mon, Jones. Please. Don’t be a dud. Participate in Halloween. Do it for me. You gave me an IOU for my birthday present on Saturday. This is my IOU. I’m cashing it in.”
“No,” Killian repeats, grabbing onto her hips and walking her backward out of the kitchen. “I will not meet you at the craft store after hours.”
-/-
“I cannot believe I’m meeting you here,” Killian scowls.
He hasn’t even made it to her yet. He’s still walking down the sidewalk adjusting the sleeves on his black leather jacket, and he’s already in a mood. Not that she blames him. She’s not exactly known as being happy-go-lucky herself, but when it comes to Halloween, everything changes.
It’s only the best holiday of the year.
(Though, she does love Christmas. The decorations and the snow and everything – magical.)
“KJ, we all know that you listen to what I say every single time.”
“Only because you bug me until I do listen.”
“True,” Emma sighs as Killian steps up to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder and tugs her close while a gust of cold wind blows through. “Did you bring your credit card?”
“Unfortunately. How are we even going to get in there?”
Emma digs into her jacket pocket and pulls out a set of keys. “I got the key from Anna, and she told me to ring everything we buy up at the register.”
“Of course. What else could I possibly expect from you? You can convince anyone to do anything.”
She drags Killian inside the store, her mental list already ticking off when she sees ribbons and felt paper and every imaginable size of those bags of creepy googly eyes, and even though she can tell Killian is dragging his feet, he follows along, grabbing the things off of the shelves that she can’t reach and putting them into one of the two shopping carts that they have. It’s a bit excessive, sure, and Killian doesn’t even know about all of the stuff she already bought from the pop-up Halloween store that’s currently residing in the one usually empty storefront on Main Street.
He would probably have an aneurism if he knew about all of the stuff that is currently being placed outside of his diner while they’re in here.
It’s a good thing that they’re such close friends.
There’s a box of giant paper pumpkins that would be perfect to hang from the ceiling (Killian insisted that the place stay family-friendly since he still needs to keep business), but it’s on the shelf that she just can’t reach. She could probably get it if she jumped, but then everything would knock over and she’d have to pay Anna back for all of the stuff she broke.
Writers for a small-town newspaper do not make that much money.
“Hold on, love,” Killian grunts, and before she knows it he’s pressing into her back so that the heat of his body and the overwhelming smell of the food he’s been cooking all day consumes her while he reaches up to grab the box, his fingers reaching those few needed inches above her so that he can pull down the pumpkins. “There you go.”
“T-thanks,” Emma stutters out all the while she tries to catch her breath and figure out why her body is on edge, goosebumps rising along her flesh and the slightest flickering of heat pooling between her thighs.
What the hell?
“So, what exactly are we doing, Swan?” Killian questions, snapping her out of the spiral she was just about to go down. “I’m not exactly understanding all of the things that I’m currently spending my life savings on.”
Emma smiles, the goosebumps staying for excitement now. “You’ll see.”
Killian continues to ask her questions while she rings up all of their items, swiping his credit card through the machine, and he keeps on drilling her on what her plan is as they walk back to his diner. The groan that passes through his lips when he sees the boxes outside makes Emma throw her head back and laugh, and she prepares herself for the night of complaining that she’s about to be in for.
Totally worth it. The only decorations she has at her apartment are two poorly carved pumpkins sitting outside of her front door, so she’s very much compensating by making Killian’s diner look like Halloween threw up in here.
“Isn’t it going to terrify my customers to have skeletons eating among them?”
“It wouldn’t terrify me.”
Emma shrugs her shoulders and starts buttoning up another one of Killian’s shirts over a skeleton. She promised not to use any of his favorite ones, and he’s sent her back upstairs to his apartment above the diner seven times because the shirt she has picked out is apparently a favorite. They all look the same to her, but then again, he says that about all of her jeans and boots even if they are most definitely different.
No two pair of jeans are the same unfortunately.
“It will probably terrify Roland.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“You’re so kind,” Killian huffs from his spot up on the ladder as he hangs all sorts of paper pumpkins and bats and witches’ hats from the ceiling. “Did you finish your work assignment?”
“I did indeed. Did you finish filling the stomachs of half of the people in Storybrooke?”
“I did. I even had some of Granny’s regular customers tonight.”
“No,” Emma gasps, moving from one skeleton to the next so that she can dress up the little guy that’s going to be sitting at the table by the door. “The traitors.”
“I know. I almost thought I was going to get shot serving them. Wasn’t sure if the price of the turkey melts would cover my funeral.”
“It’s still a possibility. There could be a sniper waiting outside for me to move away from you so that he can strike.” Killian hums in response, obviously not ready or willing to play along with this hypothetical situation where he’s going to get murdered, so she figures she might as well ask a question she’s been wondering for awhile now. “Hey, Killian?”
“Yeah?”
“How’d you even come to own this diner? Like, I have known you for ten years, and you’ve always just kind of…been here. But you don’t really seem like the type to own a small-town restaurant.”
“Well,” Killian sighs, clicking his tongue and climbing down his ladder to move it a few feet to the right, “that’s a bit of a long story.”
Emma motions to the half-decorated space around them. “I’ve got the time.”
“My mum,” he starts, his accent thicker than usual which is really saying something, “died when I was a teenager, you know, and my dad was so MIA that the courts couldn’t even find him. So, Liam and I were sent to live here with our aunt, who was in the country because her husband was American, and they owned this place. They live in Portland now to be closer to my cousins and their children, and when I decided not to enlist in the Navy like Liam, they gave me the business.”
“They gave an eighteen-year-old a business?”
“A bunch of dumbasses, right?”
Emma barks out a laugh and walks toward Killian to hand him the thread of fishing line that he forgot to take up the ladder with him. “I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything because it was your family but…”
“Yeah, I know, Swan. Bloody insane. Of course, Owen trained me for about a year before they left for good, so I wasn’t entirely unprepared.”
“You said this is what you wanted to do since you didn’t enlist in the Navy?” Emma questions, handing him a witch’s hat to hang. His ceiling is about to look like the weirdest Halloween store in history. “Why only the two options?”
“Lack of funds. I wanted to go to school to do pre-law, which seems batshit crazy to me now.” He holds up a bat at this, a cheeky grin on his face. “But I screwed around too much in school after Mum’s death and couldn’t get a scholarship anywhere. I didn’t want to take out a loan either because swimming in debt seemed so awful.”
“Huh,” Emma breathes out, ducking underneath the ladder because she’s fearless and doesn’t believe in superstitions before she walks behind the counter to open the glass covering where Killian keeps his donuts. “How did I not know this about you? I feel like I know everything about you.”
“I’m a very complex man, love. It takes more than annoying the hell out of me every day while I’m working to get to fully know me.”
“You love it,” she teases as she takes a giant bite out of a chocolate frosted donut.
Killian stares down at her for a few long seconds, his gaze intense, but then he’s turning around so that all she can see is the defined, stubbled line of his jaw that is so sharp it could cut the ice that’s in his freezer.
“Perhaps I do.”
Six hours and ten beers between the two of them later, Emma and Killian have finished decorating his diner so that skeletons are spread throughout the room eating fake food made to look like eyeballs and brain and every other gross thing that they could think of. Killian was stubborn as hell about it, especially when she insisted that he let her cover the front door with brown paper painted to look like a mouth so that it’s like customers are entering the belly of a monster, but she wore him down.
Or maybe the beers did.
Probably a combination of both.
And instead of walking the very long walk of five minutes back to her apartment, Emma falls asleep curled up on Killian’s bed after insisting that they’re both adults and can share a bed. It’s small, tight quarters that he’s obviously not used to sharing with other people, but when she wakes up in the morning, there’s a solid line of space between the two of them as Killian sleeps on his back next to her, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
He’s peaceful when he sleeps, which is a bit of an odd thing to think but something she’s thinking nonetheless, and his hair is an absolute mess, which is kind of endearing. That thought has her heart beating a little bit more quickly than usual, and she ignores it in favor of groggily walking downstairs to the diner to fix herself a cup of coffee (Killian doesn’t keep any in his apartment) only to come face to face with a diner full of people eating their breakfast.
Holy shit.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
“Killian,” she yells as she runs back up the stairs, slamming the door shut behind her so hard that the frame shakes.
“Bloody hell, darling,” he groans before rolling over in bed. “We were up until three in the morning and had far too much to drink. Why are you yelling?”
“Because I just went downstairs.”
Killian quirks a brow, propping himself up on his elbows. “Why’d you do that?”
“Because that’s where you keep your coffee.”
“But you’re wearing naught by one of my t-shirts since you insisted that you couldn’t sleep in your jeans.”
“I couldn’t,” she huffs, adrenaline running through her. “They’re really tight. Why are there people downstairs?”
Killian runs his hand over his face, brushing the hair out of his face and running his hands over his darkened scruff. “Because I own a diner where people like to eat breakfast.”
“But you’re not down there.” Emma’s whine sounds like one of a petulant child, but she can’t help herself. “How can it be open when you’re not down there?”
“I had Will open it when I knew we’d be up late. You really went down there wearing that?”
“Yes,” she yells, slapping her hands against her thighs. “Do you not see the problem with this?”
He shrugs. “Not really. You’ve got a hell of a set of legs, Swan. I don’t think there’s a shame in anyone seeing it.”
“Killian,” Emma starts, beginning to pace in the room, “this entire town thinks that we’re sleeping together. It’s something that I ignore because of…reasons, but it’s true. Not that we’re sleeping together, obviously, but that people think that. Do you know what’s going to happen now that forty people have seen me stumbling down your stairs at eight in the morning on a Saturday wearing your t-shirt?”
It takes ten seconds for the lightbulb to switch on in Killian’s head, and he falls back onto the mattress when it does, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck. Your brother is going to kill me.”
“Why would David kill you?”
“Because he has described about a million different ways that he’s going to murder me if I ever started dating you.”
“You have got to be kidding me. I’m a grown ass woman. He can’t control who I date.”
“He was protecting you.”
“From who? You? You’re Killian. You’re harmless.”
“I have a pretty fucked up dating history. I’m not exactly harmless.”
“Yeah, well, we all have one of those. We can’t all be like David in our happy-go-lucky marriages. I can’t believe he told you that you had to stay away from me. I mean…wait – ”
She stops her rant and pauses her pacing, staring down at Killian. “Why did David feel the need to tell you to stay away from me?”
Killian scratches behind his ear, his tongue clicking. “I may have…when you came home from college, I may have fancied you. But that was six years ago. It was simply a fascination, and I’d just had my heart broken by Milah.”
Did her heart just drop to her stomach?
Did it?
Why would it?
It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. All she knows is that she is about to have to defuse the town rumor mill, kill her brother, and then relentlessly tease Killian about having a crush on her.
Yeah, that’s what she’s going to do. She’s definitely not focusing on the fact that Killian had feelings for her at one point in time. A crush sounds much less serious.
What has even happened to her life in these past twenty-four hours?
-/-
Killian makes her a donut shaped like a jack-o-lantern on Halloween.
And he wears a fireman’s helmet instead of his usual baseball cap as some kind of attempt to participate in the holiday.
Her stomach flutters at the sight of him smiling at her with that crooked smile of his.
She chalks it up to all of the candy she’s eaten.
(It’s not that.)
Eighteen different people congratulate her on her relationship with Killian.
She gives up trying to explain it after the seventh person.
-/-
It goes on like that for the next two weeks.
She wakes up, goes to work, gets teased by people on the street talking about how they always knew that she and Killian would get together, and then she complains about it to Killian as he supplies her with coffee and cinnamon rolls that are probably going to have her giving up her jeans for leggings if she doesn’t get back into the gym sometime soon.
The cinnamon rolls are worth it. Killian makes them like no other.
Killian is also particularly cocky about the whole town thinking that they’re sleeping together. After his initial (dumb) fears of David being mad (he was, which is still ridiculous) and then the resulting explanation, Killian has taken this whole thing in stride. He openly flirts with her when she’s eating, getting into her space and winking and making innuendos that could make even Ruby blush.
That’s saying something.
They also make her blush, but that’s beside the fact.
It’s not real. The flirting isn’t real.
Once, when she’s helping Killian out by scraping gum off of the bottom of his tables, he tells her that he usually enjoys doing more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back, and her entire body breaks out in goosebumps over the deep tone of his voice and the inclination of what it would be like to have Killian pressing into her, fucking her into the mattress with his forearms braced over her and his lips running across her jaw and…
Those are not thoughts someone who is scrapping gum off of the bottom of the table should have.
But they keep coming whenever Killian’s hands start fumbling with her fingers when they’re lounging in his apartment watching TV. He hates all of her shows, is always complaining about how the plot is too contrived and there’s no need for so much drama, and yet, he’s always waiting for her to watch the next episode. She looks forward to it as well, and it’s definitely so that she can see what happens after the cliffhanger and not because of how it feels to be tucked into Killian’s side as his fingers play with the tips of her hair, his breath warm on her skin when he speaks so that he can mimic the characters.
And they honestly, truly keep coming when she can’t sleep one night, decides she should probably go to the gym to work off all of the food that she’s stress eating, and sees Killian running on the treadmill with no shirt on.
She was right when she joked about him secretly having muscles underneath all of that plaid and black leather.
When the hell did Emma decide that she’s attracted to Killian?
Obviously, she’s noticed his looks before. He’s got that typical attractive guy look with the unruly dark hair that’s always perfectly ruffled and blue eyes that even the ocean can’t replicate. Seriously. His eyes are insane. And then there’s the sharp jawline under the stubble and the white smile that comes with it. Plus the…nope.
No.
She cannot go there.
She’s gone there.
Emma is attracted to Killian, and she’d like to partake in enjoyable activities with him on his back.
More plainly, she’d like to fuck him.
But it’s also…it’s more than that. So much more. But sex is easier for her to think about, easier for her to understand, especially when she can push away the underlying emotions that come with wanting to have sex with her best friend.
She’s not sure that she really wants to push those emotions away, though, even if she’s terrified.
“Swan,” Killian calls, knocking his knuckles against her head so that she has to look up at him and the obnoxious grin stretched across his lips, “are you listening to me?”
“Absolutely I am,” she lies.
He sighs, sitting down next to her in the empty chair at her table and kicking at her foot. “Tell me what I just asked you.”
“Um,” Emma stutters, “if you’re as devilishly handsome today as you were yesterday?”
Killian winks. “As much as I like where your head is, because I am devilishly handsome every day, I was asking if you wanted to go to the festival with me? It’s dead in here, so I think I can close down early so we can head out.”
“But you hate the Founder’s Day Festival. You call it a waste of time.”
“I call every festival a waste of time unless it involves sailing.”
“Well, this does not at all involve sailing, so why do you want to go?”
“Because,” Killian starts as he drums his fingers on the table, “you like it, and I want to go with you.”
That familiar heat flickers across her cheeks, the staccato beating of her heart picking up, and she bites the inside of her cheek so hard that the taste of iron fills her mouth.
“Only if you buy me a box of fried oreos.”
“Those are entirely unhealthy, love.”
“Says the man who serves me unhealthy food every day.”
Killian clicks his tongue. “Ah, ah, ah. That helps my business. This is different.”
“You’re buying me oreos. Grab your coat, KJ. I have money to waste on the weird trinkets that Mary Margaret’s students have made and are selling to fund some kind of new project for the school that inevitably involves a garden that we’ll be forced to eat vegetables from later.”
“My vegetable supplier will be so upset.”
The two of them put their coats on. Emma tugs her beanie on over her ears to keep the mid-November chill from nipping at her ears, and Killian does the same, exchanging his baseball cap for a knit one. His doesn’t have a giant poof ball at the top like hers does, but he’d probably look ridiculous wearing one anyways.
Or not. He could pull off a lot of things.
(She wants to pull a lot of things off of him.)
Killian holds his arm out for her to take, and she does, looping her forearm through and walking by his side as they step out onto Main Street. Gone is the open road for cars to drive by and for people to walk across to get from business to business. Instead, it’s lined with booths, each of them identical except for the items that are being sold inside, and white bulb lights hang from storefront to storefront to add a mythical element of light to the place besides the lampposts that stand ten feet apart. She shouldn’t be so impressed by some simple strings of lights, but she is.
She’s long ago learned that the little things in life are the important things, and that’s exactly how she feels about string lights.
And the fried oreos that Killian buys her despite the fact that he complains about them the entire time.
Seriously. The entire time. It’s almost like this wasn’t his idea to come out here or something.
Once they get some of Granny’s hot chocolate, though, Killian stops complaining so much. It helps that he spikes them with his rum, something she’s thankful for, and even with his penchant for healthy eating, Killian does always cave for the s’mores bar.
Chocolate and marshmallows and graham crackers oh my!
“Is your brother staring daggers at us or is that just me?”
“Hmm?”
Killian nods his head over to where David and Mary Margaret are sitting at a picnic table with Graham and Ruby, who seem to be getting along pretty well. They’ve been on a few dates this month. Good. Ruby deserves that kind of happiness. Graham is much less of an asshole than Whale.
And David is definitely staring Killian down from across the fire pit, and that’s a more terrifying than she thought it would be. Something about the shadows of the light from the fire making David look evil.
Emma knocks her knee into Killian’s. “What’s that about? Did you drink the last beer or something when you guys hung out last night?”
“God, no. I don’t have a death wish.”
“Is he still irrationally mad over the entire town thinking that I was getting some good, good loving from you?”
Killian tilts his head back as he barks out a laugh and lifts his arm to pull her into his side so that he can rest his cheek against the top of her head. “Just to be clear, it would actually be good loving, but no,” he sighs, “we talked that out, as you know. It was bloody annoying, but David finally realized that you and I are adults who can make our own decisions. In fact, I’m pretty sure he gave me permission to sleep with you.”
“Shut up.”
“No, no, I’m serious. He is on board with me making it so that you can barely walk the next day.”
“Stop,” Emma groans, burying her face in Killian’s jacket, breathing in the leather. “I don’t want to talk about me having sex in a context where David is somehow also thinking about it. That’d be like me telling you Liam has – ”
“Okay,” Killian quips, cutting her off. His hand squeezes her shoulder before rubbing up and down and bringing her more warmth than the fire pit. “We have to talk about something else. I don’t like that you’ve brought my brother into it.”
“Exactly.”
They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Killian’s hand never stops rubbing up and down her arm. People keep passing by, laughter on their lips and warm drinks in their hands, and all Emma can think about is how this night is one of those nights where everything just seems perfect.
Perfect doesn’t exist, but this comes close.
Her ass is starting to hurt from sitting on this wooden bench.
And she’s feeling a little fearless.
“Hey, KJ?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever think about it?”
Scruff scratches across her forehead. “Think about what?”
“Us,” Emma whispers, terrified of the words that she’s saying but unable to stop herself. “I mean, every single person in the town thinks that we’re good enough together that they think we actually are together. Have you ever thought about it?”
His hand stills, but it’s only for a second. “When I said that I was attracted to you when you moved back to town, that wasn’t a lie. It’s still not. But the timing never seemed right. You’d just broken up with Neal, and I wanted to give you some space. Then, you started dating Walsh, and as much as I hated that asshole, you seemed happy.”
“He was an asshole. You should have said something.”
“I didn’t want to be the one to break your heart.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
“I would have.” Killian’s thumb caresses her chin, a gentle touch that has shivers running down her spine, before he’s tilting her head up so that she can see the blue of his eyes under dark lashes. “The timing was always off. I stand by that. I also stand by the fact that I am incredibly attracted to you, always, and that you are quite possibly my best friend in the world.”
“Even over David?”
“Aye,” he laughs, his eyes crinkling in the way she loves. “Even over David.”
The way she leans up at the same time that Killian leans down seems like the most natural movement in the world, and their lips press tentatively together as emotion builds in the back of her throat. This isn’t something that she has imagined too much, not really, but there have definitely been times, especially lately, when she did let her mind wander to questions of what kissing Killian would be like. Would it be weird? Would his lips feel soft? Would all of the innuendos and swaggering confidence live up to their reputation?
Would it make her happy?
That last one is the most important one, Emma thinks, and it’s what has her smiling into the kiss in a way that doesn’t really allow them to get any traction. But Killian is smiling too, something she can taste and feel as viscerally as the feeling of his thumb still on her chin and his hand tangling into her hair under her beanie. The only part of him that her hands can find are his sides, but that’s fine because then she’s opening up to him and letting his lips truly capture hers in all of their softness.
He tastes like a combination of hot chocolate and rum, possibly the smallest bit of s’mores, and it’s the most delicious kiss of her life.
Is this even real life?
Emma gets her answer when Killian’s tongue caresses hers, warm and wet and achingly wonderful as her skin breaks out in goosebumps, and he captures her sigh while she captures his moan.
Unfortunately, though, neither of them can capture the sound of David’s voice booming over them.
“If you’re going to do that, you might as well get a room so I don’t have to watch.”
Her laugh bursts out of her, and Emma pulls back from Killian only to bury her forehead in his shoulder while his hand rubs up and down her back. She can feel his chest vibrating with his own laughter.
“See, Swan, I told you he was on board.”
That only makes her laugh harder, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach getting jostled around so much that she physically aches from all of the emotions that she’s feeling right now.
(She kissed Killian.)
“It’s still weird.”
“Aye,” Killian chuckles, and when she finally pulls back to look at him, there’s a serious glint to the blue of his eyes.
“What?”
His smile is soft, his eyes crinkled, and all she really wants to do is kiss him again.
“Do you want to get a room? I happen to have one nearby.”
“I think I’d like to be properly courted first, thank you very much.” Killian’s smile falls for the briefest of moments, but she picks up on it and presses forward to peck his lips, one, two, three times to bring it back. “I’m kidding. If you don’t take me back to your apartment and have your way with me right now, I’m going to make you decorate the diner for every single holiday. Even the weird ones.”
“Well, if you put it like that...”
They get up from the bench then, and Emma didn’t realize just how much her legs were trembling until she stands up. Her step falters, but Killian steadies her, much like always, and the two of them grab their things before hurrying back in the direction of the diner to the sound of a wolf whistle that she knows is from Ruby.
The whole town knows that she’s about to have sex, but screw them. She’s the one getting screwed.
Killian, ever the gentleman even though she knows that he’s not one half of the time, places his hand on the small of her back, electricity sparking through his fingers and over onto her skin, and leads her up the back staircase that leads to his apartment.
She’s been in here a million times and knows every inch of this place from the dark wood cabinets in the kitchen to the plush brown couch that has two blue and gray striped pillows on it as well as a white throw blankets that Killian only owns because she insisted. He’s not much for decorating, preferring to keep life simple, but there are small trinkets and books scattered throughout the place that make it so undeniably him that her heart aches.
And maybe it beats a little faster when she sees the plaid comforter covering his bed, the one that’s barely big enough for two people.
A million times, and yet none of them have ever felt quite like this.
“Nice place you got here,” Emma jokes, a bit of her nervousness coming through with the shakiness of her voice. She tries to cover it by turning around and looping her arms around the back of Killian’s neck so that their bodies are pressed together again, arousal humming through her, but the quirk of his brow tells her that he can tell that she’s a bit on edge.
“We don’t have to do anything, love.” He says this with his hands on her hips, placed right above the waistband of her jeans but under her sweater so that his fingers are touching skin, and his touch is warmer than the fire outside. “Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.”
There’s a gentle nodding of her head. “I want it to.”
Without any hesitation, Killian swipes his tongue into her mouth, a much headier kiss than the one outside, and all she can really think about is the fact that Killian Jones is a damn good kisser. There have been so many thoughts running rampant, so many questions and worries, but she doesn’t feel any of them as he tugs her closer and runs his hands up her sides so that his fingers are messing with the soft material of her bra and his lips can’t stop moving over hers.
She can feel him over every inch of her, this firm, warm body that has the arousal continuing to grow and is causing her nipples to firm, to ache, and for someone who wasn’t even sure that she actually wanted Killian until about two weeks ago, Emma is desperately aching for him now.
Funny how things like that work.
Killian seems to feel the same way as he carefully backs her across the apartment, familiar creaks of the floorboard happening with each step, and she can feel him through the material of his jeans in a way that has her thighs beginning to quiver.
Her calves hit the end of his bed, and Killian’s lips move from her mouth to her neck while his hands start tugging at her clothes, urging her jacket to come off as she pushes the beanie off of his head so that his hair comes out as a wild, dark mess. It’s only now that she realizes that her hat was lost somewhere along the way.
She doesn’t care.
Emma doesn’t care about anything but the way that Killian is making her feel, and he is making her feel absolutely everything. Clothes are shed, mostly easily, but there is a moment when Killian is trying to get her boots off where he can’t and murmurs something along the lines of bloody buggering fuck that as her laughing so hard that tears start coming out of her eyes. The laughter quickly stops when Killian lips run over her breast, the soft mouth and scratchy scruff causing sensations that have the hair on her arms standing on edge.
Though, none of that compares to when he aligns himself with her and begins to stroke her with his fingers while the hair on his chest rubs against hers and his teeth bite at her earlobe. She can do nothing but hold on, her nails leaving half-moon tattoos in the skin of his back as her thighs tremble with want and the coil in her belly continues to tighten.
“Do you like that, Swan?”
“Yes,” she moans, biting into his shoulder when his thumb brushes over her clit. It’s gentle, not too rough, and later she’s most definitely going to commend him on his ability to follow instructions. Emma didn’t know that he actually knew how to listen since he never seems to.
That’s a lie.
Killian is always listening to her, always giving her the upmost attention, and she has no idea how she managed to be this oblivious for this long.
None of that matters. They’re here now.
Killian’s voice is gritty as he whispers dirty things into her ear, things that he used to say to her in a joking tone but that he says very seriously now, but it’s difficult for her to respond with the way arousal is pulsing hotly between her legs and her heart is beating so quickly that it may very well overpower itself.
Killian pulls away from her when she thinks she’s about to fall apart, and as much as she wants to yell at him for that, she can’t when she feels his cock pressing up against her – heavy and warm and thick. It’s all too much for her, especially when he rolls his hips against hers as his mouth sloppily moves over hers to kiss her. But then he slides inside, the drag of him delicious, and there’s something about all of this that feels so undeniably right.
It’s the two of them.
They’re right.
Her imagination never got quite this far. It had its moments, these quick little thoughts, but they can’t compare to how he fucks her down into the mattress in a way that’s a perfect combination of being gentle and harsh all the while his lips keep moving over hers so that the only sounds in the room are the wet slapping of skin together and the cacophony of groans and sighs that are escaping the two of them.
“Killian,” Emma whines as he rolls his hips into hers and she hooks her right leg around his back to pull him in deeper. “Just like that. Please.”
“Anything you want if you keep saying my name like that.”
If she were a betting woman, she’d bet that there’s a smirk gracing his lips, but she can’t see with the way that his face is buried in her shoulder, his labored breathing now the only sound coming out of him. But that may also be her.
That’s definitely her.
Her orgasm steals the little breath that she has left and spreads from her toes up her body, at least for a few seconds, and it has been a long damn time since she felt something like that. She wants to feel it again, to feel all of this again – the way that pleasure bursts and curls and explodes across the two of them – but then Killian is muttering quite possibly the filthiest thing she has ever heard in her ear and pulsing within her so that she knows that he’s fallen too.
This is going in the record books for the best Founder’s Day Festival of all time.
No contest.
After, her body feels warm all over and impossibly sated, but Killian still hands her one of his flannel shirts, one that he knows that she loves to steal, and she puts it on without bothering to button it up. There’s definitely going to be a round two sometime soon, but right now she just wants to bask in the glory of it all.
Having sex with someone you care about so damn much seems to have its perks.
Killian’s nose brushes her cheek when he gets back into bed and pulls her into his side before he pulls the covers over them, and Emma is soothed by the sound of his heartbeat in his chest. It’s quick, but solid, and it’s good to know that he was just as affected by all of this as she was.
“So, do you think I’ve effectively made some good, good loving to you that your brother would approve of?”
Emma groans into his chest, and her fingers trail through the thick patch of hair there. “If you ever say something like that again then all of this stops.”
“My lips are sealed then.”
“Good,” Emma sighs, looping her leg around Killian’s while his hand starts tracing words into her back through the flannel. “KJ?”
“Hmm?”
“How long exactly have you had feelings for me?”
His fingers stop their movement, but only for a moment, and then she feels the gentle press of lips to the crown of her head. “I think that’s a rather complex question, love.”
“Give it a go.”
“Aye,” he chuckles. “I think after Milah left me, I wasn’t too sure that I would ever been keen on love again. My romance with hers felt like one of those that could never be replicated, you know? And then you came whirling back into town with such a fire in your eyes that I’d never seen before. Bloody brilliant, I tell you. And at first, you were nothing more than David’s little sister who I happened to be attracted to. But then you started bugging me every day at the diner, coming in and drinking too much coffee and eating too many sweets, and one day I just realized…huh, I actually like this woman. You’ve been my best friend for a long damn time, even if we still have a hell of a lot to learn about each other, but you’ve kind of made me believe in those romances again where I feel like, you know, my life meant nothing until you used my toothbrush.”
Well, damn. She thought she was the one here who was able to weave words like that. But only in her writing after approximately ten edits. Killian can just do it so naturally, and the smile that’s on her face is so large that it hurts.
“To be fair, the one time that I used your toothbrush was an accident. Ours were the same brand, and that trip to New York had been insane.” She tilts her head up at the sound of Killian’s laugh, and she can now see the blue under his half-lidded eyes. They’re so beautiful. He’s so beautiful. “But yeah, I know exactly what you mean even if I took a little bit more time to come around to it all.”
Killian smiles as he tucks her hair behind her ear. “I’ve been more than fine waiting.”
-/-
Killian lets Will open the diner again the next day, and this time Emma doesn’t wander downstairs for coffee. She stays holed up in bed with Killian, the two of them laughing and talking and making each other sigh out the other’s name with the way that their bodies move together.
It’s the first time Killian ever completely misses a day of work.
He starts decorating the diner for holidays after that. Not small ones like President’s Day or Flag Day or anything like that, but in December there’s a tree wrapped in lights and ornaments and in March everything is decked out in green to go along with the special on beer. Granted, a lot of it is her doing and Killian definitely still complains, but the both of them know that his grumpy act is really just an act.
He’s more than happy to do silly things to make her happy.
That includes proposing to her the next year on Halloween as Emma wrestles with a pair of sheets that she’s trying (and failing) to make look like a ghost.
She says yes but only if she’s guaranteed free burgers and fries for life. Plus, her own toothbrush. Oh, and coffee. Always coffee.
It’s a tough negotiation, but Killian agrees.
#cs fic#cs ff#captain swan fic#captain swan#csseptembersunshine#life meant nothing until I used your toothbrush
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wuɳɗɛʀรcɦöɳ, PT 1
Wuɳɗɛʀรcɦöɳ, Germany x Reader
Word Count: 3,253
Written back in 2017 during my crazy Germany phase and when I was just starting my German lessons. Now, I’m starting my 3rd year of the German language. Wow. Time is an illusion. It might be a bit cringey because I had just begun writing at the time, but I was really proud of it and still do kinda like it.
-December 23-
'Shit, shit, shit.’
You were currently wandering, lost, through a city miles and miles away from your hometown- scratch that- your home country! Such a good idea to try to navigate through a foreign country without knowing a speck of the language. Well, other than simple high school education. How did you end up in this situation again? Oh yeah, your sister. Your sister's boyfriend, to be exact.
Your sister decided to move to Germany with her boyfriend Gilbert a few months ago, and she wanted you to come to visit. Of course, you've always wanted to visit a foreign country, but sadly, this meant leaving your safe, warm house and heading out into the cold foreign lands. You still remember that phone call.
"Hey, (Y/N)! Gilbert and I think it would be awesome if you could come to visit us over Christmas! We'll even send you money for a plane ticket if you need it!" After a lot of persuading, you finally gave in and promised to come as soon as you could. "Awesome!" Gilbert had answered. "When you get off the plane head to the train station! I'll have my brother pick you up from there." They were strange instructions, but Gil was a strange person. So you packed a duffel bag of the essentials, and here you were, a few weeks later in the German city of Munich. It was quite beautiful, but sadly you were too busy focusing on the cold. You knew it'd be cold, considering its winter, but not this cold!
You made a mental note to kick Gilbert once you saw him again.
Furrowing deeper into your coat, you looked up to the sign once again with determination. What does it say? It can't be that hard to figure it out.
"Damn it..." you muttered softly. If only you could use your phone to translate it. But sadly, you didn't have Wifi, and you were stupid enough to forget to download something beforehand to help you. Now, here you were with only a heavy coat and a stressed mind, standing in the soft winter flurries.
All you needed was the train station. But sadly, you didn't recognize any of the words on this sign. Sighing deeply, you stepped back and moved to the side so that other people could read it, not noticing the pair of soft blue eyes that followed you gently. Spotting a small bench, you brushed the snow off of it and sat, discouraged.
It was only a few moments until:
"Entschuldigung, ist alles in Ordnung?" You jumped a bit and glanced up to make eye contact with a sturdy man, who immediately glanced away shyly. "Es tut mir Leid. Es geht mich wirklich nichts an." He continued talking, and you panicked. ‘Okay, okay, think!’ You ordered yourself. ‘High school German class, come back to me!’
"U-uh. I-Ich... sp-spreche kein... or is it keine? No... shit." The young man glanced back at you with a patient look in his eyes, and under his soft blue gaze, you felt even more shy. "I-Ich spreche kein Deutsch." You finally managed, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. The man ran his hand through his slicked-back blond hair, raised his eyebrows and nodded in understanding. Both of you seemed a little bit awkward.
"Oh? Englisch?" You nodded, finally feeling a glimmer of hope on this trip. Maybe he could help you.
"Do you know any English? I-uh... I mean... sprechen du... I mean Sie! Sprechen Sie Englisch?" Your cold cheeks practically lit aflame when the man let out a stifled, barely noticeable chuckle at your attempts.
"Yes, I know English." You never thought you could fall in love with a voice, but that low German accent speaking in English was the nicest sounding thing you've ever heard. God... you don't even know the man and you're imagining what his voice would sound like whispering words of endearment. It sounded so gentle the way he spoke.
"Well..." You began with a sigh. "That's a relief."
"I... um," the man stumbled over his words a bit. Maybe it was because he wasn't used to speaking in English, or maybe it was simply because he was shy. Either way, you found it cute, almost endearing. "It may not be my business, but you looked a bit stressed. I suppose it's because you couldn't read the sign back there?"
"Yeah." You nodded shyly, feeling silly. "I was, uh, looking for the train station and I couldn't tell what the sign was saying. I'm surprised I got this far."
"I could get you to it if you want." Quickly, you shook your head.
"I don't want to inconvenience you! I'll find it eventually!"
"Nein, nein. I was on my way there anyway. I'm supposed to pick someone up." Suddenly, something hit you. Metaphorically, that is. You knew there was something familiar about his face. As strange as it seemed, you felt as if you had seen this stranger before. And you had.
When your sister first met Gilbert, she would send emails and messages every night. Some of these messages included photos of her and Gilbert. Most of the time it was just her showing something stupid Gilbert was doing- drunk or not- and other times, it was both of them, pulling a prank on Gilbert’s poor, unsuspecting brother. You always thought that he was kind of cute but, if this was him, he’s certainly more than you expected.
"I, uhh." How could you word this that doesn't make it sound creepy? "You wouldn't happen to know a Gilbert, would you? Beilschmidt?” The man’s face twisted up in confusion.
“Yes, I do. He’s my brother.”
“Well. Then I think you’re the person I’m looking for.” You stuck out your hand for him to shake. “I’m (Y/N). My sister is dating your brother.” You cringed a bit at the last line. ‘Wow, what a way to introduce yourself. Smooth.’
“Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” He shook your hand, eyeing you in curiosity. “Ludwig.” He introduced himself simply, nodding. After introducing himself, he pulled his hand away and ran it over his smooth hair again. This seemed to be a habit of his. Maybe he was nervous- or just shy. He continued analyzing you, with a soft look of bewilderment on his face, making you feel all the more uncomfortable. You took the quick chance to inspect him as well. He stood quite a few- and I mean many- inches taller than you, and behind the thick winter coat, you could tell he had a sturdy and firm build. He must definitely work out. He had light blonde hair slicked back on his head and adorned with a few unmelted snowflakes, and baby blue eyes. Eyes that met yours. After only a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, he looked away quickly, focusing his gaze on the ground with a blush on his face. “You’re different than I thought you would be.” your cheeks lit up in embarrassment. Did that mean he was thinking about you? What did he think you were going to be like? And why did something as little as that matter to you?
“What did you think I’d be like?”
“Well, your sister is quite…” he paused, looking for the right word. It was obvious he didn’t want to offend you or your sister.
“Annoying?” For the first time since you’d met him, Ludwig let a small smile span across his face.
“Annoying, ja. Almost as much as my brother. But you on the other hand.” He paused again, “You seem like a nice woman. Smarter than your sister. More modest. And a lot smarter than Gilbert, that Dummkopf. It’s nice to know I won’t have another idiot in my house.” That complement left you flushed, not in embarrassment, but in satisfaction.
“O-oh.” you smiled at him. “Thank you.”
“Bitte.” Another moment of silence followed his response, and you decided it was time to go.
“Do you have a car? We should probably get to Gilbert’s house. Or is it your house?”
“He lives in my house. But I have Gilbert’s car right now.” he waved his hand in a 'come along' fashion and turned towards where the car apparently was. He opened the door and motioned for you to get in.
"I can put your bags in the trunk if you wish." He suggested hesitantly. It was obvious he didn't talk to girls frequently.
"T-thanks." You smiled at him, and he quickly looked away, putting your bags away and then sliding into the driver's side next to you. As he started the car and began the drive, you tried to strike up a conversation. "So... how far is your house?"
"Ehhm, nicht weit. Not far. Just outside the city. About 10 minutes." Silence once again. You gazed out the window a bit, taking in some of the passing houses. This was such a pretty town.
"This is such a pretty city." You sighed dreamily.
"Ja, it's one of my favorite places in Germany." Ludwig responded.
"How many other places have you been?" You glanced over at Ludwig and met his gaze. He immediately looked back to the road with a blush.
"Well, mein Bruder and I lived in Berlin for most of our lives. We came here for Oktoberfest one year and he liked it so much he wanted to move here." He let out a soft scoff and you couldn't help but imagine Gilbert drunk off his ass and begging to live here. "I prefer the North. Although Munich is sehr schön." You almost melted at the way the German word rolled off his tongue so naturally. He glanced aside at you awkwardly. "S-So... how long are you staying?"
"Just three days. Until Christmas evening. I don't have much family at home so when my sister called I decided 'Why not?' Just a few days won't hurt."
"You don't have any family at home?"
"Well, you know. Everyone is too busy to celebrate Christmas with me. So I'm usually alone on Christmas." A slight look of pity crossed Ludwig's eyes.
"How long have you been living alone? You don't look that old."
"No, I'm only 20. I've been on my own since I turned 18. I was pretty good financially, so as soon as I was done with high school I moved out."
"Well, this year I'm sure Gilbert and (S/N) will make sure to have a big celebration." He glanced at you reassuringly.
"It sounds like them." You laughed. Looking out the window a bit, you noticed Ludwig pull into a driveway surrounded by trees. "Are we here already?"
"Ja, come on." You hopped out of the car and went to help Ludwig with your bags. "Nein, (Y/N). I've got them. Go tell them we're here." You gave Ludwig a small nod of appreciation and turned towards the house. It was nicely sized, and made of stone. You stepped up the steps to the door and knocked, from inside you could hear several bodies scrambling to the door. Suddenly, the door was thrown open and you were surrounded by different sounds, feelings, and smells.
"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! OH MY GOD, YOU'RE HERE." Before you even noticed the dogs, you were stumbling backward into a sturdy chest. Ludwig held you protectively and quickly got the dogs to back down.
"Aster, Berlitz, Blackie! Halt! Runter!" You glanced at Ludwig and he at you for a few moments before the three dogs sat obediently in the doorway, moving aside so that Gilbert and your sister could tackle you with hugs.
"Man! I haven't seen you in so long! This is awesome!" Your sister examined you, taking in the slight differences.
"How'd you like my lesser awesome little brother?" Gilbert. Separating from Ludwig, you gave Gilbert's shoulder a light punch. And laughed.
"He was nice. Stop it."
"Ow! (S/N), she's abusing me!"
"Come on sis, I'll show you where you can put your stuff." You took your bags out of Ludwig's hands, glancing up at him in thanks once again, before following your sister. As she was walking you through the halls, she nudged you gently. "Sooooo... what do you think?"
"About what?" Your sister snickered softly.
"About Luddy." A blush lit you face up quickly, and your sister immediately noticed. "Aha! You like him."
"N-no! It's not... It's not like that. He's really nice!"
"And hot too, right?” Judging by the embarrassed look that spread across your face, she continued “Come on. Even if you don't like him, you've gotta admit..." you stayed silent for a few moments, before deciding it was useless to argue with her.
"Okay... yeah, I think he's kind of hot." you smiled softly, instantly regretting it when your sister let a wide grin spread across her face in a “ha-ha, I got you.” kind of way.
"Oh man, you do! You're in lo~ove."
“What?! But you just said-” your sister cut you off, arriving in an empty room.
“Okay, (Y/N). You wanna know the real reason I wanted you to come over here?”
“Because you miss me and wanted me to experience traveling to another country?” you asked dryly.
“Well, that too. But mostly, I wanted you to meet Luddy. I mean, he’s perfect for you! Plus, both of you are lonely as shit. So I wanted you to get to know each other.” you turned bright red.
"You mean the only reason I came here was that you wanted to set me up?"
"Okay, I can understand if you're mad. But seriously. Ludwig's just your type. You even said he's really nice."
"I think a lot of people are really nice. It doesn't mean I want to date them!" You sighed and set your stuff down on the bed. “Is this my room?”
“Well, it's actually mine. But you can sleep in here tonight. I'm gonna be with Gilbert.” she winked at you suggestively and you groaned.
“God, please keep me out of your sex life.”
“That's gonna be hard to do tonight. It's gonna be a bit loud.” Before you could attack your sister, Gilbert burst into the room.
“Yo! We made food!”
“You mean I made food!” Lud’s voice boomed from down the hall.
"Was? Come on, I helped!" Gilbert then turned to (S/N) and they started intensely making out. You stood quickly and walked out. "Tell mein Bruder we won't be having dinner for a bit." Gilbert said, as he and (S/N) made their way to his room. You groaned and Ludwig came down the hallway in a black tee-shirt and sweatpants, an apron draped over his shoulder.
"Aren't they coming?" You have him a look, and he suddenly understood. "Ugh." He shook his head. "Well, you're still a guest, and you must be hungry- " As if on cue and trying to embarrass you, your stomach grumbled softly, and you blushed. "Ja. Really hungry." He turned and you followed him to the kitchen, where he motioned for you to sit before setting a large bowl of food in front of you. "It's just some soup." Ludwig explained softly, now seeming embarrassed himself as he set some food down for the three dogs and then sat across from you at his own bowl.
"It's good." You stated simply. You couldn't help but feel awkward around him now. You thought you were making a friend, and then your sister had to tell you she wanted to set you two up. You couldn't see him any differently now. You glanced up at him discreetly. His smooth blonde hair was still slicked back, and his blue eyes were closed as he swallowed down some soup. Your observation from earlier had been correct. He was muscular; he definitely works out. But at the same time, he wasn't bulky. Now wearing short sleeves, you could see his strong arms and through his sweatpants, you could see his muscular legs, and you could just drool at it. He looked... amazing.
Soon you were both done eating, and you offered to help him wash the dishes.
"No, no, no. You're a guest."
"Well, I can't let you do them alone. I don't want to feel like a burden." After a bit of persuasion, you were drying the dishes for him, and you couldn't help but think back to what your sister said earlier. Why would she want to hook you up with him? You'd only be here for a few days, and she knew you weren't the kind of person to have quick flings with people. As much as that was true, if you weren't just visiting... if the circumstances were different... you definitely thought Ludwig was a good person, so... It would be an understatement to say that you blushed at that thought. Your face completely lit up bright red.
"Hallo? (Y/N)? Bist du da?" Ludwig's low voice snapped you back into the moment.
"W-what?"
"You were spacing out."
"Sorry."
"I was wondering if- um... if you were planning on doing anything the next three days?"
"Well, really, I was just going to try to survive with both my sister and Gil in the same house." Ludwig smiled at your honesty, looking away slightly to try- and fail- to hide it.
"How about I show you around München? You seemed so interested earlier. I-If you don't have anything else to do, that is..."
"You'd really show me around?" Your eyes lit up in delight.
"It's kein Problem. I'd be happy to show you around the city. You just seemed so amazed by it earlier."
"What are we gonna see?" You could no longer contain your excitement. You were in Germany, for Pete's sake! "I mean, I am in Germany. I may as well do something fun."
"I actually don't have any ideas yet. We could visit the Christkindlmarkt and you could get (S/N) a gift." Ludwig rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"That would be great, thank you!" In the joy of the moment and the idea of spending the day in a Christmas market with a potential friend, you wrapped your arms around his firm midsection in happiness, momentarily forgetting who you were talking to. "Thank you so much." You felt Ludwig's entire body stiffen up noticeably, and you heard a dish crash into the sink. When you came to the realisation of what you did, you pulled away quickly. "Oh God, sorry! It didn't break, did it?"
"Was?" Ludwig was extremely flustered as he looked back towards the sink and the broken plate. "O-oh. Ja..."
"Oh, God... I'm so sorry."
"It's fine, (Y/N)."
"I've barely been here an hour and I already broke something."
"(Y/N). Keine Bange. That plate wasn't important. Ich verspreche." Carefully picking the pieces out of the sink, he gave you reassuring glance.
"I'll buy you a plate tomorrow then!" Ludwig simply sighed.
"If that'll soothe your conscience. Go ahead." Standing there for a few moments with an embarrassed blush on your face as he cleaned up a mess you had caused, you decided to head to bed.
"I- um, I'm going to get to sleep now. Jetlag and all..."
"Alright." He replied, not meeting your gaze. "Gute Nacht." Quickly, you left the kitchen and found your way to your sister's room. Thankfully, she and Gilbert were still... ahem, busy, so you had the room to yourself. You changed into your sleep clothes and slipped under the warm covers, letting sweet dreams of Ludwig fill your mind.
Translations
-Hopefully, they’re all at least kinda correct but at the time I had only taken a few basic German classes. -
Entschuldigung, ist alles in Ordnung?- Excuse me, is everything okay?
Es tut mir Leid. Es geht mich wirklich nichts an- I'm sorry. It's really none of my business.
Ich spreche kein Deutsch- I do not speak German.
Sprechen Sie Englisch?- Do you speak English?
Dummkopf- idiot
Bitte- you're welcome
Nicht weit- not far
sehr schön- very pretty
Halt, runter- stop, sit
Bist du da?- Are you there?
kein Problem- no problem
Keine Bange- don't worry
Ich verspreche- I promise
Gute Nacht- good night
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What Kind of Two Years Has it Been
At the end of an experience, and therefore a blog, I usually write a reflection on the experience. The Master's programme ended six years ago and due to life and procrastination and other excuses, I'm finishing this blog only now. But this delay has its advantages, because I know how the story ends and I can tell you what happened to the characters. So maybe, for the first time, this is truly an epilogue.
The journey to this program started in 2012. I was living in Germany and working as a consultant. I always knew I wanted to work first before continuing with any kind of education, because toward the end of undergrad, I had classes with grad students and the ones who had work experience before going back to school seemed to bring more to the experience from applying what they learned from the real world. As I researched Master's programmes, I focused my search in Europe because I was still paying off the loans for my Bachelor's degree. I Googled another program when the MIND programme turned up in the results. After a process of applying, obtaining references, phone interviews and traveling to Munich from Stuttgart to take the GRE in Germany (really), even though this is Europe, the choice came down to Humboldt University in Berlin, with a scholarship from the DAAD, and the MIND programme, with a scholarship from the European Commission. (Lappeenranta University of Technology in Finland takes a close third because I had a really, really pleasant scholarship interview with a very pleasant young man and sometimes I think about how my life might be different if I went there and studied Innovation Management instead.)
I'm sure there was a long decision process and I'm sure I spent a lot of time thinking about it, like most decisions. This all took place eight years ago and I cannot remember the salient details. But I can imagine that I felt like it was time to leave Germany, even though I love (LOVE) Berlin, and the appeal of having an adventure in two countries (I didn't yet know that Asia was on the table) was great. So I gave notice at the consulting firm, said goodbye to my friends in Stuttgart, (wrapped up my last performances as a roller skating Greek muse in the local military base's production of Xanadu - that's real) and moved to Sweden.
In the two years that ensued, I met the best people, took wild risks, had the best time, made my dreams come true and had the adventure I sought. I lived.
I lived in Sweden for a year and was inspired by their example of how to treat guests in your country. I had a job interview in a sauna in the winter and learned what gender equality in society might actually look like. After an application process, I had the opportunity to spend a semester in Thailand. In Thailand I learned how to get from the university to town (Bangkok) and back again. I hosted a cultural show that lasted for eight (or more?) hours. I felt closer to my mom than I had ever understood before. C pointed out that after the midterm exams, I have sat for exams on three continents. I celebrated my birthday at a German brewery in Bangkok. I saw Angkor Wat after the semester ended. I went to all the Disneylands in the world (at the time...back then, there were only 11 parks). I didn't stay long in Austria, but I was there long enough to experience a Buschenschank and run into visa problems. I also saw Carousel and Cabaret in German, and puzzled as to why it was an hour longer than Cabaret in English, which I saw soon after on Broadway. In Glendale I lived in a conference room turned into an ad hoc intern bullpen for four and a half months writing my thesis. I saw things I had been nearby my entire life but never dreamed of seeing in reality.
Blogs are cheesy and navel-gazey but I am glad I did it. I am glad that this and the Germany Part I blogs exist. Sometimes I will look at an old post because someone asked for a travel recommendation (for example), and I will discover something that I forgot. I didn't remember that I was contacted by Swedish public radio to talk about the 2012 United States election. I forgot I had this conversation at NASA JPL about living in Germany. So what's the moral of this paragraph? If you can't blog, at least journal. You think you will remember the exciting things that happen in your day to day life but the truth is, you won't. I am proof!
What happened to everyone? Some stayed in Europe. Some went home. Some went home in Europe. Some got married. Some had babies. Some moved to Amsterdam. Many stayed in Sweden. When I left C, she wanted to stay in Italy. She has since worked her way up to an awesome job at a major company and had a baby! A has moved and is engaged to be married! I was happy to attend C's wedding in Ankara in 2015. I was happy to attend Z's wedding in Czechia last year, and to see my friends again at both.
What happened to me? I accepted an internship in Florida where I spent about five years (and made a bunch of new friends and had a bunch of good times) before moving back to the country where I left when this all started. To be honest, I never expected to be back. Not in this country. In 2017, I was fortunate to attend my class reunion in Leiden; it was also the celebration of the closing of the program. They invited all alumni back to watch the last class graudate. I met the newest generations of the program and saw a lot of old friends. It was just like old times. I came to the first afternoon of the organized program. I thought we would observe the new kids doing their work. No. We kicked off with a case exercise and divided into groups to discuss and then present our results. Our groups consisted of current students, alumni, professors and mentors. In Europe, we are all equal. It was just like old times.
The rest of the program consisted of lectures, discussions and watching the final presentations of the graduating class. Before I left for this trip, I joked that my master programme was ending because it lost funding (truth) from the European Commission because of Brexit (also true but I didn't realize it until I got there and they confirmed that Brexit was one of the factors that cut funding to the programme). There was a party the final evening. In the way that we do. I remember telling all my friends that it would be a very long time before I will see them again. I couldn't foresee an immediate excuse to get to Europe and hang out with them. The day I returned to work in Florida from the trip, I received an email about joining a project that is based in Germany. If I chose to accept this mission, I would have to move to Germany for a period of time. What.
I learned later that, basically, someone found out that I know German. (I promise that I have other skills.) When I was in high school, if you told me I was going to move to Germany, I would have said that you're crazy. I was just this nerd who went to Space Camp and really liked The West Wing and Saturday Night Live. If you told me I was going to move to Germany twice, I would have said, "Then why did I spend all this time learning Spanish?" (among other questions) I know that's true, because I did ask myself that in the first two months of intensive language school in 2010. But the truth is, Germany made things happen for me. When I talk to young people who (for some reason) ask for my advice, in addition to telling them to "follow your dreams," I also tell them the story of how moving to Germany (the first time) changed my life. (And then I tell them why so they know I'm not exaggerating.)
I couldn't refuse. I'm back in Germany. I'm working on getting better at German.
I should have seen this coming. The fall I moved to Sweden in 2012, I came back to Germany to celebrate Thanksgiving. During my Swedish spring, the squad from Germany came to visit Sweden and I put in my tea and hairspray requests (from dm, of course). After my thesis defense in 2014, my first destination was Nuremberg to see E, then on to Quakenbrück to wait with C who was finishing her defense. I attended S's wedding in Leipzig in 2015. I went to Oktoberfest in Munich in 2016. The point is, I cannot stay away from Germany. This is evident and not a surprise.
So far, I have been fortunate that this opportunity has allowed me to meet up with so many friends. A and M are in Amsterdam and have introduced me to Y and T, who are also in the MIND network. S is back in Oslo from Thailand. A is in London. S has moved from Stuttgart to Berlin. A and P and B and K and E are in New York. I still cite the meal in Haarlem (note that's Haarlem in the Netherlands, not Harlem, but I can see why you might be confused because I just mentioned New York) as the best I've ever had and J told me that the restaurant has received a Michelin star since 2014 when we were there so now it's overpriced and overrated. So funny! At Z's wedding in Czechia last year I was happy to reconnect with A, B and M. Everyone else, I'm coming for you! (And I mean that in the creepy way!)
What's going to happen next? Let's find out! Thank you for reading and joining the adventure.
Good night, have a pleasant tomorrow and see you in the future!
Lauren
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One Heck of a Beginning
Disclaimer: I do not own Disney characters, I do not own or represent Disney. I make no money off of this. The only think I get from it is embarrassment and exposing poor unsuspecting people to my obsession, stories and characters.
A/N: This is perhaps my first story that I have written. I've been in love with the show and movie ever since I was a kid and it really began my lifelong obsession with Myth. This story takes place a few years after the Movie, and makes heavy references to the show as well as history and other mythologies. It is very heavily influenced by the episode Twilight of The Gods, and so a lot of the scenery will take place in Germany.
Rated T for minor language and violence
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Things have quieted down years later. Quite a few years later since… The incident. The incident of all incidents. Should it really be called an incident? The word Incident really seems to be downplaying what happened. What about Titan cataclysm? Would that work? No? Well anyways, time had passed since that cataclysmal event. Titans were taken care of, gods were punished, maybe redeemed, but this is not that kind of story. This is a story of something completely different. This is a story about misunderstandings.
Just as Apollo began his journey across the sky it became routine for the no longer young Hercules to wake up at dawn break, jog a mile, and pick up the newspaper. He was always back just in time for when Meg woke up. He could not even shut the door quietly behind him before the sound of sandaled feet running towards him accompanied by a squeal of "Dad! Dad!" hit him followed by the sensation of a tiny body running into him from behind. The impact startled him more than any force his son Hyllus could throw at him.
"Woah, hey Hyllus, remember what I said about keeping it down while Mom is asleep?" He whispered and picked up the boy letting the kid drape himself over his shoulder. "Dad!" Hyllus quickly lowered his voice, "Dad, there's some bar-"
"I'm awake but it's the thought that counts." Meg spoke while leaning against the doorway holding a small krater of coffee in her hand.
He smiled weakly and sat Hyllus back down on to his feet. "Sorry." He stepped towards her leaning in to place a kiss on her but she stepped away.
"We got company." She nodded her head towards the other room with a smile.
He blinked, his blues eyes falling onto the door way and just hovering in the opening. Hercules recognized the hovering blue god before him, or at least he did. He almost mistook him for Hermes but it was the tiny beard on his chin and furs that gave it away. Hercules squinted at the familiar and near identical messenger. "Herm-?"
"Hermond." The northern messenger finished, "Remember me? Of course you do! It's been a while!"
"Oh right! Hermond! From the Norse Pantheon! I remember now." Hercules slapped the side of his head. It had been more than a decade since he had put an end to the Ragnarok prophecy. "What brings you here? Is everything okay? Should we get you anything?"
"No, no but thank you. I was just stopping by to deliver this invitation to Oktoberfest. Odin extended an invitation to Zeus and Hera this year and they suggested that maybe you and the family would enjoy the festivities. Odin also sends his belated congratulations on achieving your divinity-" He adjusted his glasses as Herc scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Although, it seems you are currently without it. Not a problem since the festivities will be held on Midgard in Munich. Not bad this time of year, and I hear it's really growing a marvelous art community. You really-"
"Thank you. Thank you for the invite." Meg cut off. Something did not feel right, not that she didn't trust the machinations of all powerful deities, well actually, she didn't trust the hidden machinations of all powerful deities. "And we really appreciate it but, you know Hyllos, here is about to start school soon, and-"
Herc gave her a confused look. Hyllus' school didn't start for a couple of weeks, and he couldn't see anything wrong with the very promising idea of a small vacation, and festival. "I thought school wasn't for another couple of weeks.."
"Yeah mom! It's not yet! I can go too!" Hyllus spoke up.
Meg bent down to grab his hand and pull him aside. "Oh kay, You remember what I said about conveniently jumping into the middle of adult conversation and how you really shouldn't do that? Also you need to pick up your room, I don't think you made your bed yet and I can tell you didn't brush your teeth." She looked up as Hyllus pulled away with a pout and trounced off to his room. Her worried purple eyes meeting her husband's. It was then he knew something was wrong, so he turned to Hermond.
"I, just got to speak with the missus, I'll be right back with an answer."
Hermond nodded to him, letting the demi-god break disappear into the kitchen.
"Okay, what is wrong? I can stay here if you like, but I really don't see anything wrong Meg. They're good people."
Meg sighed, looking up at him. Something felt off, like things could go wrong. "I know, I know. It's just that, you know, whenever you get called for these kinds of things, trouble rears it ugly head and you run off rushing to adventure."
"Meg, I'm a Hero."
"I know, and I don't have a problem with that, it's just that we have a kid now."
His shoulders dropped as he realized the weight of keeping not just her safe but their son as well. "Okay. You're right." He sighed and turned to let the blue God know, "I'll let him know, we got too much to take care of at the moment."
Meg frowned, seeing that perhaps Herc missed out on adventuring, and maybe she was being just a little paranoid. Before he could leave the room, she spoke up.
"You know, I don't really have a problem with you going."
He stopped, looking to her smiling face. "why don't you invite a friend, or the old goat. I can take Hyllos shopping, and maybe even make it a day to spend at your parent's house kind of thing."
'Are you sure?" He asked, a smile returning to his face, knowing that despite how she felt, she was willing to put forth an effort to make him happy. "I mean, you don't have to do this, I-"
She punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Go on, Wonderboy, go have your fun. Invite a couple of friends or even the old goat. Make it a guy's night if you want to."
"Are you sure?"
"Go! Go have fun you dork."
Herc snorted through his nose, "Dork? Okay, I'll let Hermond know." Before he headed back into the living room, he turned back to her. "I love you."
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Prior to the festival, Hercules could think of no one else to invite other than his long time friend Icarus, and Philitetes, although it took a little convincing for the old goat. He was not too keen on the snowy place, or the possibility of being stuck rhyming again but the promise of seeing the valkeries and a festival of drinking and eating was not to be passed up. It had been years since he had been to Germany, and this time it wasn't completely that cold. Snow had barely fallen. By barely fallen, that means there was about a foot of snow. So not bad at all!
When the three of them got off of Pegasus, they stood in the middle of town in awe. Well Not entirely awe, for you see, the town of Munich was possibly one of the largest Barbarian towns he had ever seen. Meaning that instead of about nine huts, there were possibly double that. As for a thriving art scene, it was a few stalls selling Kuckoo clocks, carvings of bears, and some musicians blowing away on horns.
Phil slapped his forehead and yelled, "It's just a dump again!"
"WOAH! They got the old world old school charm!" Icarus yells, clasping his head. "You probably haven't heard about it." He changes his voice and flicks his scarf around his neck, now donning a new persona, "It's really obscure."
"Oh, I didn't realize being out of date and rundown was obscure!" Phil yelled back, face reddening. His hand flourishes and lands on his chest, "Oh pardon me!"
"Well, I guess it's not so bad, it kind of have its charm." Herc says trying to calm his satyr mentor, but he was partially distracted as he dug through his satchel, pulling out a scroll. He would not have to work too hard to distract the old goat because a dozen damsels wearing dirndls daintily dawdled down towards the center square.
"Yeah, I see it now. This town really does have its charm." Phil rubbed his hands together while his tongue hung out. "Don't wait up for me boys! I'll join you later!" And in an instant, he was off trotting after the ladies.
"Wait! Phil!" Icarus yelled, waving his hands frantically but not giving chase, "You forgot your invite!"
Herc looks down to the scroll in his hands and compares it to the sun. "Well we have some time to wander around before joining my parents later on. We'll bump into him again. In the meantime, let's take a look around." And so the two of them wandered around the festivities, helping themselves to drinks, music and the sights. One of the sights led them towards a street filled with markets.
"Oh Herc! We need to stop there! I promised Dadalus that I'd bring back a souvenir!"
Icarus ran off excitedly down the street, which would not have been much of a problem for Herc to run after him except he felt a smaller hand on his shoulder .
"There you are! Herc babe I've been looking everywhere for you!"
The demigod whirled around expecting Hermond but instead found Hermes.
"Oh! Hermes! Sorry we were searching for where to meet you guys later, we just got a bit distracted."
Herc turned his head back to look for his friend but had managed to lose his friend already.
"Oh that's fine babe, the shindig isn't until later on tonight and you got time, if you got time, I got someone that would like to speak with you. It shouldn't take long."
Herc raised his eyebrows and looked over his shoulder again. He was sure Icarus was a grown man and quite frankly this town wasn't really all that big, he figured he could easily find him again. "Oh of course. I don't see right-"
One minute he was in the market place and the next he was by a cordoned off area standing before a large armored god standing between them and the stanchion that lead to the section reserved for the divine.
"We're just checking in to speak with Tyr and Balder, Heimdall." Hermes assured the all-seeing God.
Heimdall looked down to his list to mark them off, but in the meantime, Hercules' eyes spotted two younger deities, that looked not much older than thirteen. One was bright white with golden hair carrying a large sword while the other standing opposed to him had much darker tones of purple and black hair. He couldn't hear what was being said but it was enough to make the purple one storm off into a wall of shadows. Hercules frowned. Something felt worrying, and something about the exchange seemed way too familiar. The younger white god turned around to approach a much older one with one arm sitting at a table.
"Herc! C'mon let's go!"
He followed after the blue messenger towards a long table set up next to an open space with archery targets, weapons and shields lined the outside of it. The two gods looked up to them, the younger white one even waved with a week smile.
"Tyr, god of Wars and Balder young god of Heroes and light, I bring you Hero of Greece and son of Zeus, Hercules." Hermes winced as he heard something, someone with a long beard and penchant for zapping people with thunder bolts was calling him not too far away. "Oh! I'll be right back, I got to take this one!" And the blue god was gone before the three other males could blink.
Tyr stood up and held his hand out to shake Hercules' hand, "Pleased to formerly meet you. Thank you for meeting with us. Shame we hadn't met sooner. I would have loved to challenge you after you defeated Thor. " Tyr motioned to the younger white god, "Had to be training Balder here." He slapped a hand on Balder's shoulder, causing the teen to jolt forward a bit.
Hercules shook Tyr's hand, feeling a bit taken by this war god's courteous yet boisterous attitude. "Um, Thanks I guess, but honestly, it's rather embarrassing.."
"Eh, don't beat yourself up over it. Loki has pulled a fast one on everyone on Asgard." Tyr's voice lowered as glanced sideways, "It was only a matter of time before he moved on to some new victims anyways." Tyr straightened up, picking his cheeriness back up. "Well, he's locked away in Nifleheim, being tortured forever now, so no need to worry about that now!"
Hercules laughed nervously and looking down to Balder who had his arms crossed and looked off to the side. The young god looked up at the demigod for a second, and the guilty was quickly replaced by a cheerful smile. Hercules instantly recognized that of a guilty child attempting to hide something. He wasn't here to bust the kid's chops though.
"Training huh?" Herc asked. "What kind of training? Is it for being the God of heroes?" It was a bit strange to him that a young god that had to be trained was already being declared a god of heroes.
Balder looked down to the side and smiled a bit, "Something like that."
Tyr rested his heavy stump of an arm on Balder's head, "About that! I understand you have since retired from the Hero-ing business, but Balder here, has been prophesied to be our god of heroes but he's been having a bit of problem-" And now all the charm that Tyr previously had began to wither away as he leaned into Herc, "He's got a bit of a flinching problem.. Even tries talking to his foes."
Balder's cheeks brightened into a warm glow as he pouted.
"Well, what's wrong with that?"
That question made Tyr stop and blink as his brain tried to determine whether Herc was joking or not. Balder peeked upwards at the demigod, the glow in his cheeks fading.
The awkward silence was broken up by the ground giving a small shake beneath their feet.
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Playing with Fire
A/N: Since we don’t know the exact events after Winter Soldier, this will be my attempt to pretend what could have happened. So Steve took the folder from Nat…
Pairing: Steve Rogers and OC Aria Pierce
Square filled: Caught in a Burning Building
Word count: 1031
Warnings: none, weirdly
Taken straight from the movie as a lead in: Steve opens the file, which is about Bucky and the information regarding his Winter Soldier transformation. Sam walks over to Steve.
“You're going after him?”
“You don't have to come with me.”
“I know. When do we start?”
Steve and Sam had used every resource Nat had given them in that file. They had hunted over most of Russia and nearly every country surrounding. When they turned over one lead, it lead to three or four more; HYDRA was truly living up to its mythical counterpart. In frustration, Steve had decided to take a two day break and dragged Sam along to a small corner of Germany where he had first reconnected with Bucky back in the 40s. The trees had been cleared for more stores and restaurants; the hole-in-the-wall bar where Peggy had talked to him about dancing and finding the right partner was long gone. Oktoberfest was in full swing so it was easy for both guys to get lost in the crowds. Steve glanced around when a form ran into him.
“Sorry,” the petite blonde woman apologized. She started dabbing at his chest with a tiny napkin; Steve smiled at the kind attempt, knowing his dark blue shirt was already ruined.
“It’s okay,” he placed his hand over hers to still her ministrations. She looked up into his eyes and both of them sucked in a breath.
She was mesmerized by the ocean blue eyes staring down at her; she was suddenly very aware of the muscles under her fingers as she slowly tried to pull her hand and napkin away from the beer stain she had caused.
Steve recognized her instantly from Bucky’s file. She was Alexander Pierce’s niece; kidnapped in 1991 by Bucky after his assassination of Tony’s parents and used as leverage in bringing Bucky back to HYDRA on several occasions after. Steve had no intel on how she escaped, but he was about ready to find out. He threw a glance over at Sam who took the hint and kept walking.
“So, can I buy you a drink?” Steve grinned down at his potential new target. She bit her lip and frowned.
“It’s nice of you, and I should be the one offering, but I should get going,” she tried to move out of his way but his large frame blocked her in easily.
“At least tell me your name,” Steve urged. “You’re American right? I’m Steve.” He stuck his hand out.
She let out an annoyed sigh and took his hand. “Aria.”
Two months later and still no Bucky, but Steve couldn’t get Aria out of his head. He had let her go too easily; he had bought her a beer, tried to follow her to her place, only to lose her in the throngs of Oktoberfest. Sam had been uncharacteristically quiet on the subject as well. Instead Steve continued his mission locating Bucky. A solid lead had pointed both men in the direction of Romania; Steve’s intel had come straight from Fury himself. But the abandoned building they found turned up nothing. They found random blankets, wrappers from various chips and foods, even some fruit pits neither man could identify, but nothing that could lead them any further. Steve glanced around the current room once more.
“Come on man,” Sam grumbled. “He’s not magically going to appear out of one of those barrels downstairs and he sure as hell can’t be hiding in here.” Sam gestured to the dingy mattress and overturned dresser. Steve hung his head and sighed. Finding Bucky would be like finding a piece of himself and he clung to the hope that he would find him. The gathered clouds outside mirrored his inner turmoil; thunder sounded but the rain had yet to start.
A strange scent reached their noses. Sam scrunched his nose up, trying to identify the smell. Steve instantly recognized it as his eyes went wide. He felt the doorknob; it was warm but not unbearably so. Turning towards Sam, “I see two ways out of here.”
Sam groaned, already leery of the options. “What way gets us out of here without going through that?” Sam pointed in the direction of the door and the fire he knew was headed their way.
“Well, you could put on those wings you’re so fond of and fly us out one of those windows?”
“And my other option?”
“I will grab you and throw both of us out of those same windows, and hope the shield absorbs the brunt of the impact for both of us. Barring any miscalculations.” Steve gave Sam a rueful smile. Sam shook his head and reached for his backpack. The smoke from the fire started to thicken and both started coughing a little as it seeped in from the doorframe. “Any time now Sam.”
“I hear ya Cap,” Sam slipped on the red metal wings, stuffed the backpack underneath it, and grabbed Steve by his right arm. “I hope you’re lighter than you look.” Both ran in the direction of the window and jumped. Glass shattered around them and some shards fell littering the streets below. Sam groaned as he tried to get more lift from his wings; Captain America was solid muscle and a huge drag. “We should have practiced this move sometime before today,” Sam joked as he clenched his jaw. “We’re going to have to land soon.”
Steve pointed a few yards ahead at an empty field. “There.” Sam wasted no time in getting there before dropping Steve then landing. Steve surveyed the field while Sam put the wings back out of sight. A slim figure headed towards them; Steve could feel every muscle in his body tense as the person approached.
“Stop right there and identify yourself,” Steve called out. He was pretty sure he knew who it was and was eager to see a friendly face. The clouds started to clear; the sunlight shown on her blonde hair but her face was anything but friendly. Sam sucked in a breath as Steve’s hope started to crumble.
“Sorry to disappoint you Cap,” Aria smirked. “Really, you should have gone down with the building. Would have made my job much simpler.”
“Where is he Aria?”
“Someplace safe,” her smirk darkened. Steve’s thoughts raced, thinking over the file that didn’t have a single word of another dirty Pierce. “But Cap, it’s my job to make sure you never find him.”
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#starspangledbingo#steve rogers#steve rogers x oc#sam wilson#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfiction
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Hello friends and fans!
Welcome to my 34th newsletter – and this time, I think you’ll notice right away that there’s something different about it!
In Brief:
October already? Wow! One of these days it’ll be December and Saturnalia again! 😉 Oktoberfest is on its way – and of course, our favorite festival of the year: Halloween!
In last month’s newsletter I said that this has been one of the busiest, most productive years in writing I’ve had in a long time, and it’s only right that I emphasize that!
That said, this edition of my newsletter also has to be the most intensively updated and detailed one yet! It even has a gorgeous new header image – and lots of extra information!
Let’s carry on, starting with some of the technical background stuff related to my writing!
Discontinuation of the .net website
As I told you last month, the .net website has been discontinued as of mid-September, so please don’t use the christinaengela.net url/link as the redirect to christinaengela.com isn’t expected to work much longer!
I opened the .net site in September 2018 as an experiment, and set up an array of onboard selling tools – but although I finally had just three direct sales from that website during the past year (amounting to a whopping $6 in all that time!) the cost of renewing the service just didn’t justify the expense. I have no intention of renewing the .com domain either when it expires in 2020, since the cost of that via WordPress would be actually three times the renewal cost of the .net through GoDaddy! I will nevertheless do my best to keep all my url mentions updated – hence this reminder!
Updates On Lulu AND Amazon
As you probably are aware, one of the two main service providers I publish through is Lulu.com (the other I use is Smashwords). While both have their fans and their pro’s and cons, Lulu is the only one of the two that distributes to Amazon straight-off – Smashwords wants you to sell a truck-load of a title via their own site, or Apple, or Kobo before they will even consider forwarding it to Amazon! Also, as I mentioned in last month’s newsletter, I’d updated quite a few titles incrementally on Lulu over the past few years, and noticed that inspite of everything I did, Amazon was still displaying some quite old versions of my books that were no longer available, and not updating to the newest versions!
Upon investigation, I complained to Lulu’s help department, and they clarified: it turns out that while I may have updated a project file on a particular book, those changes didn’t reach Amazon. I’m still not sure if this means the process of “revision” on Lulu is automatic and it didn’t work properly in this case, or if the process is not automatic and I’m supposed to notify them to send updated files to Amazon after making changes – they simply didn’t clarify that part – but in the meantime I found a workaround of my own! By that I mean that I undertook the gargantuan task of republishing my books on Lulu not once – but TWICE in the space of a single week!
Let it not be said that I don’t put enough effort into my books! Whew!
The process involved taking down basically ALL my books that are on Lulu, “retiring” them one by one, and then manually republishing each one again – from the beginning, getting new ISBN numbers in the process! As if that wasn’t stressful enough, a few days after completing the updates I received an email from Lulu informing me that this still wasn’t good enough and that I would have to make changes yet again! Hang on a sec – I thought Smashwords was supposed to be the pedantic nitpicking one?
I decided I’d be damned if I was going to change all the covers again to suit them – I wanted the series names on the covers as well, so – groaning and grudgingly, I took all of Galaxii and Quantum down a second time in the space of one week – and republished them again, this time with titles matching the covers EXACTLY! Fortunately, the next morning I received notice that this had done the trick and all Galaxii and Quantum titles had passed Lulu’s evaluation for distribution and had been forwarded to Amazon, Kobo and Barnes & Noble!
I heaved a huge sigh of relief once that was done!
In the meantime, all the titles concerned were still directly available via Lulu’s own shop page, and of course, everywhere else they’re distributed to – Kobo, Barnes & Noble, iBookstore, Smashwords, etc.
All that legwork is now finally behind me, and the newly updated titles that were supposed to have reached Amazon months ago arrived there by the 20th September! But at least, they’re finally there! I was finally able to claim them by clicking “This is my book!” and added them to my Amazon author page! Only then was I able to ask Amazon to link the new editions to previous editions, which will solve the knotty problem of having multiple editions showing side-by-side there!
Still, the drama isn’t quite over yet, as only once this has been done will I be able to update my GoodReads book listing, since their system allows only ISBN/AISN numbers of books being sold on Amazon, and nowhere else!
To make matters even more complicated, somehow in the publishing process over the past couple of years, a duplicate GoodReads author profile got created automatically by some system gremlin or other, and all my current titles are already listed on that site under “Ms. Christina Engela” in duplicate – as they are on Amazon itself – and I can’t claim or add or merge them with my existing GoodReads author user account either! *Head desk!* Perhaps this issue can be resolved if I create a new user account on GoodReads and claim that account… but I still have to get around to it!
I often wonder if aspiring indie authors out there actually knew the amount of work, admin, research, learning, trouble and frustration lying in wait for them, if they’d just give up and not bother! But then, this is my obsession, so it’s not as if I actually have a choice in the matter!
Reviews
“Dead Man’s Hammer” received an amazing 5 star review from UK writer and reviewer, Lee Hall on September 9! I’m not sure how other writers take it, but when I see glowing reports of something I wrote, containing statements like: “As the Quantum series unfolds, it grows more and more impressive“, “Dead Man’s Hammer is proof that Christina Engela can build an established world and insert so many genres into it along with retaining a unique style of writing that not only tributes her influences but has a way of confiding in readers” and “Throughout Engela’s writing style naturally flows and is fun to read“, I feel like breaking out the bubbly and inviting people round to celebrate!
It’s truly gratifying to realize that the reason a reviewer is saying these things, is because they took the time to read something I wrote. It’s also humbling, and I’m very grateful!
It’s probably worth mentioning though, that “Dead Man’s Hammer” has been available since 2006, and this is the very first review I’ve had of that particular title! That alone should serve as an indication of how difficult it is to get reviews as an indie or self-publishing author!
Theo & Yvonne Engela’s Books – New Covers & Formatting
As part of the revision process I told you about in the previous section, I took the opportunity to fix a few things and improve upon the presentation of my parent’s books! I know, I know, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it, right? Still, I couldn’t help myself! At any rate, what I did was create new covers for my parent’s books to make them stand out more, and also to make them look similar and part of the same series, while also reformatting the interior of the eBook into a more uptodate and modern format – the same as the one I use on all the Galaxii and Quantum books! I think they really pop, don’t you?
Poetry by Wendy K. Engela
A couple of months ago my wife and partner in all things wierd and wonderful, Wendy, published her first book – a collection of her gothic poetry! “Season’s Change“. The collection is now available as an eBook via all the expected places, Amazon, Lulu, Smashwords, and all their distribution partner sites.
Sales & Downloads
Since I made a host of new free promotional items available on Lulu and Smashwords, interest towards the end of July – particularly on Smashwords has been gradually showing signs of improvement. Let’s just say that at least I can detect a pulse! Downloads of my free items are happening, and I feel a little encouraged. On the sales front however, things are still pretty dire. Hopefully they will pick up soon.
Current Writing Projects
Book 7 in Quantum – tentatively operating under the working title “Underground Movement” – is still under way. Just slowly. At the time of last month’s newsletter I told you I’d just reached over 29000 words… and then I peeled some of those off and shifted them to the next title after that’s draft… so “Underground Movement” is currently sitting at just over 21000 words again! Still, it’s all part of the creative process, isn’t it? Right now I’m pondering whether I shouldn’t just merge the next two title’s stories? The story’s finer detail is still evolving and unfolding, so sometimes it’s easy to lose sight of the path while I’m distracted by all the scenery! Anyway, when I make my mind up, I’ll let you know!
Translation
As some of you may recall, in 2016 I released Afrikaans translations of “The Thirteenth Ship” and “Wiggle Room“, which like the English originals, were made available as free downloads. These have been updated and made available once again! I also made it a goal back in the day, to get all my fiction works translated into Afrikaans for the local market, but also into a couple of other languages – as far as that was possible! Translation work isn’t easy, as I’m sure you can imagine – translation apps can really mangle the works up, and without a native language-speaker to check these translations I’m still up the creek without a canoe!
That said, I’ve had to rely on volunteers to do it out of their own good will rather than to pay top dollar for paid translation services! All I’ve been able to offer people willing to assist me in this task, is mention of their name in the credits and perhaps to give them a free eBook copy of any one of my paid books upon completion of the job!
Now, before you accuse me of being a skint old duck, please bear in mind that the items I wanted translated were all free sample works for which I wouldn’t get paid anyway! It doesn’t make sense to spend thousands of near-worthless Souf Efikin ronts on something that gets given away for free, does it? That being said, some time ago, a few people volunteered eagerly to translate a couple of short stories, and quietly disappeared, never to be heard from again! This recently was the case as well, with several apparent eager-beavers silently vanishing into the mist! Hopefully, in the long-run I can get some of the novels translated. This is a long-term goal, so I expect progress to be slow.
Communication
I’ve also done my level best recently, to start making a post via my website blog daily and then sharing that across social media instead of posting directly to Facebook, Twitter et al. The goal I’ve kept in mind is to post informative articles about various different characters or elements of my stories – and also to come across to readers as more personable… that is to day, less businesslike and less intimidating. After all, I is human too, and I don’t bite… much! So far, that seems to be helping! Below are links to a few of my most recent posts on The Crow Bar:
The Tech Side #1: A Broad-Spectrum Approach To Sci-fi Storytelling
LGBT Heroes in Galaxii & Quantum – the “G” in LGBT
Secret Weapons of the Resistance: Time Travel, Beck the Badfeller & Cindy-Mei Winter
FAQ’s Answered #13: Who Is Sona Kilroy?
FAQ’s Answered #12: Who Is Cindy-Mei Winter?
FAQ’s Answered #11: What Is The Time Saving Agency?
Storm Area 51! Let’s See Them Aliens! Etc!
FAQ’s Answered #10: Who Is Marsha In “Dead Beckoning” to Blachart?
FAQ’s Answered #9: What Inspired “Prodigal Sun” & “High Steaks”?
Secret Weapons of the Resistance: Fred (the Arborian)
Secret Weapons of the Resistance: Bovine Torpedoes
FAQ’s Answered #8: What Inspired The Akx?
Preserve The Past… Save The Future!
Another Round At The Crow Bar #33 September 2019
FAQ’s Answered #7: What Do I Write About (& Other Questions)
Anyway, let’s move on to some more new releases!
New Releases
Some of you may recall that in 2016 I released Afrikaans translations of “The Thirteenth Ship” and “Wiggle Room“, which like the English originals, were made available as free downloads. These have been updated and made available once again!
Currently Available Titles:
I currently have 22 unique titles available in 4 series (not including the 15 free promotional items).
Alternately, you can view Christina’s books at Amazon, Smashwords, Lulu or Payhip.
Some of Christina’s titles are available in other languages: Afrikaans.
The Galaxii Series
(Click on the cover images to view product pages for each title.)
The Quantum Series
(Click on the cover images to view product pages for each title.)
Panic! Horror In Space
Space Sucks!
(Click on the cover images to view product pages for each title.)
Other
(Click on the cover images to view product pages for each title.)
Non-Fiction
(Click on the cover images to view product pages for each title.)
Edited by Christina Engela
(Click on the cover images to view product pages for each title.)
FREE Promotional Items:
(Click on the cover images to open free samples.)
On A Personal Note
As I related to you last month, I have opted to sell via Amazon again. Not that I like them, but there’s simply no other way to make any headway as an author – especially an indie author – without making use of their platform.
The two different earlier editions of my dad’s collection of short stories “African Assignment” I mentioned last time as listed on my Amazon author page have finally – after another round of emails, been merged. At this stage, I’m just waiting for the current version to reflect on Amazon’s database before adding it to my listing and then getting those merged with it as well.
Hopefully some headway will be made soon in this regard, and I will as always, keep you posted.
Fan Mail, Reviews & Honorable Mentions
I found the following items to display in this months issue:
Medium.com has shared my article “No LGBT Stereotypes Here!” from last year on their website.
“Dead Man’s Hammer” received an amazing 5 star review from UK writer and reviewer, Lee Hall on September 9, 2019 – the very first for this title!
My favorite reviewer also tweeted THIS about “Black Sunrise” on the 12th!
I got this review on Smashwords for “The Thirteenth Ship“: “Started average, but the ending was different. 4 Stars” – James Jenkins September 12, 2019.
I was quoted by Stephanie C. Odili on Aug 13, 2019 on an article at Medium.com “The patriarchy longs for the days ‘when men were men’ and women were oppressed, subservient — and they can see no wrong in it. It justifies its former power and lust to hold on to it — and if possible, to regain it…How can oppression and power over another person’s life ever be ‘love’?” ― Christina Engela.
A short story project I collaborated on with fellow author Alex S. Johnson “Negative Wonderland” appears on Pintrest.
CrowdCount has one of my quotes at the bottom of their website in a carousel along with quotes from Margaret Mead, Ron Siltanen and Mother Theresa. “Human rights is a numbers game. Who is going to care if only 20 people pitch for a protest?“
Poopbite (odd name, that) lists one of my quotes on a list about bonfires. “Knowledge and education are the keys to this human tragedy which is a bonfire of hate-fueled by ignorance.” – Christina Engela.
GGGMall is still quietly carrying on, selling my books via their website AND on Bid or Buy.
The Daily Ripple posted a quote of mine from “The Pink Community – The Facts” right at the top of their homepage! “The problem is, in a world where some people (even in the USA, where someone like Donald Trump was allowed to rise to the level of a serious presidential candidate in 2016) have descended to such levels of ignorance that science itself is dismissed by leaders, political and religious as ‘an agenda’, and frightening numbers of people cling to ignorance and superstition because it suits their conservative anti-human rights views and objectives.” ― Christina Engela, The Pink Community – The Facts.
I display my Fan Mail, Reviews & Compliments with pride, gratitude and humility. You are always welcome to have a look.
Hate Mail & Horrible Mentions
I’ve had nothing in this department over the past month, other than a couple of pitiful dick pics and weak insults – surely my haters can do better?
This Levitican dickhead (who was on my Facebook friends list until then) made an effort to let me know what a hopeless transphobe he is by posting this string of abusive comments on a share of LGBT Heroes in Galaxii & Quantum – the “G” in LGBT. Yes, I write about LGBT characters in some of my books – and I’m open about being transgender and lesbian myself – so if you’re a homophobe or transphobe, why send me friend requests to begin with? #gallery-0-7 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-7 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-7 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-7 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */
This next ignoramus stepped up to demonstrate what happens when you’re a hate-filled sack of shit and you miss your turn to use the family brain cell – when you open your piehole, you sound like a TERF. #gallery-0-8 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-8 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-8 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-8 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */
I’m rather proud of my hate mail, and you can review my collection here – but be forewarned, don’t do it while eating or drinking, or you might choke while laughing!
Interviews
I have nothing new to show you here this month.
All my interviews are linked to from this page. If you would like to do an interview with me about my work, please do get in touch!
In Closing
Well, that’s all for this time, folks! 🙂
Thanks again for all your support, friendship and interaction!
Until next time, keep reading!
Cheers! 🙂
If you would like to know more about Christina Engela and her writing, please feel free to browse her website.
If you’d like to send Christina Engela a question about her life as a writer or transactivist, please send an email to [email protected] or use the Contact form.
Show your appreciation for Christina’s work!
All material copyright © Christina Engela, 2019.
Another Round At The Crow Bar #34 October 2019 Hello friends and fans! Welcome to my 34th newsletter - and this time, I think you'll notice right away that there's something different about it!
#About#Afrikaans#amwriting#author#communication#English#Fan Mail#fictionwriting#hate mail#horror#horrorfan#indie#interaction#lgbt heroes#news#newsletter#novels#poetry#recommendedreading#sci-fi#short fiction#writer#writerslife
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it must be a thursday (3/?)
Kei has more friends than just Isobu, and it’s high time she ran into one.
Chapter Three: Path of the Seeker
Gustav surprised me with a gift on the morning we got to the first big stop I’d be around to see.
“You can’t make it anywhere in the Empire without papers,” Gustav said with a grin. In his ink-stained hands, he held a sheaf of papers and dropped them in her hands. “I didn’t know if you’d want a last name, so I just picked something that sort of sounded right. Just make sure to memorize it so the Crownsguard don’t catch you in a lie, all right?”
Given that I was not, in fact, named “Caretta Schiavoni” and probably didn’t look the part, I had to wonder where Gustav had gotten the idea. Aside from Molly, Desmond, and Gustav, I hadn’t exactly heard anybody else make much use of last names.
Ah, well. I’d been lying since I got here.
“Thank you very much, Gustav.” I bowed deeply over the glorified passport. “You’ve been very kind to me.”
“It’s all right. One good turn deserves another, and you’ve been a model guest.”
“Can you two please hurry that up? The station’s just around the bend,” said Desmond, and Gustav took his place at the head of the caravan with a spring in his spindly step.
Is that like your ninja registration number?
A little. As I checked on Isobu to make sure he was still locked in a costume trunk in the back of my wagon—driven by Ornna—I replied, In hindsight, I probably should have asked about official documentation before. I’ve just never been in a contiguous empire long enough to think about it.
We have been skating laws with wild abandon. Doing so is more fun. Isobu sent me the image of the inside view of the trunk to confirm he was still there, then added, Have you told any of them your plans?
Not yet. Once we get safely into town.
Isobu hummed a sad little note. Then, I hate this.
I didn’t have to ask what he meant.
Even putting aside how much freedom Isobu won for himself over the years, being slammed back down into a shape he didn’t ask for had to be a major setback. The freedom to move in the world didn’t feel complete when he couldn’t be sure he’d keep it. I didn’t know enough about this world to be sure if Isobu’s appearance would let him really wander freely, like he had when we were out in the Grand Line. Every day he had to spend like this, he was kicked in the face with reminders of his relative powerlessness. Worse yet, I’d heard him calling for his siblings late at night on my watch. There was never any response.
We’ll make it back to them, I assured him. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but we’ll go home.
Isobu grunted something indecipherable and ignored me. Fair enough.
Honestly, letting that conversation lie was as much for his benefit as it was mine. I didn’t really want to talk homesickness.
I did, however, want to talk about my job with the circus. Gustav’s passport thing said my work specialty was “sword juggling.” Being asked to prove that sounded like a terrible idea for everybody.
“Ornna,” I began quietly, “once we reach town and Molly and Yasha start their rounds, can I spend a little time on my own instead?”
Ornna snorted. “Do whatever you want. You’re a grown woman.”
No snide comment about how I’m not a member of the circus anyway? She must like me. “Thank you, Ornna. I’ll make sure tell Gustav.”
And to be honest, well, I might’ve just wandered around street corners and explored the town. New places with German names were definitely outside of my experience as either a jōnin or an adopted pirate, and I’d heard weird things about Oktoberfest in a lifetime or two. Even if this was just any fishing town, I at least wanted a chance to take a damn bath. I’d been listening intently to the carnival crew for any indication of what civilized life was like compared to the life of a roadie, though, since I hadn’t asked questions, I only knew that Molly was magnetically attracted to bathhouses. Road dust and road sweat and no internal plumbing made for a very grumpy Kei, gotta say.
But I started picking out little flickers of something as we entered Trostenwald.
I’d known for years that people with chakra suppression skills could slip by me if they were good enough, especially because my range was a fifty kilometer radius. The best of the best, like Orochimaru, tended to be the types who could waltz right up to me and do jazz hands behind my head without me noticing. ANBU weren’t quite as good, and most shinobi far less stealthy than that.
Rin wasn’t even trying.
I stuck around long enough to help set up the big top tent and the performers’ common areas. Yasha ended up not needing my help at all, so all I had to do after that was make sure no one else wanted an extra pair of hands in the mix. But after Ornna and Toya both shrugged off any assistance with makeup, because they’d done shows without my amateur ass before and intended to continue, I let Gustav know I’d be taking a day off and disappeared into the city.
I probably didn’t read half the signs, honestly. I skipped checking out breweries and apothecaries, didn’t get anywhere near Crownsguard strongholds or the seat of any government, and doubled down on my earlier resolution to avoid people.
This somehow put me on the opposite side of the entire city from the circus, still chasing the sensation of an autumn afternoon. Subtly, of course. (Or under a transformation technique to make myself look human again.) Even if I hadn’t seen anyone spit at Molly or Bo while on the road, I knew enough to guess a country with established racial slurs for my current appearance probably had an attitude behind it. The power to punch people out on a whim was more useful in lawless backcountry when the only people around wanted to use your bones as soup stock. In an established city? Hah, no.
The chakra jumped from one alleyway to the next in my mind’s eye. While perhaps not my best plan, I sent a pulse of my chakra outward as I passed in front of the second row of buildings. Rin wasn’t much of a sensor unless in the middle of an exam, but hopefully she’d pick up something about me she recognized.
It didn’t take that long.
As soon as I spotted a familiar figure, I was already heading right for her. “Is that really you?”
Rin, though short and slight compared to a lot of the local humans, probably would have stood out for other reasons. I hadn’t seen a single Asian-adjacent person in the week I’d been hanging with the circus. Logically, I knew small towns didn’t tend to be the most diverse places, but I’d met or seen at least twenty nonhumans. The only one with Asian features had been my reflection. Rin’s long, dark hair was bound up in a braid and she wasn’t wearing skirt and blouses she preferred in Konoha—due to transformation chicanery—but she was still recognizable.
Not exactly the same as my situation.
“It’d be hard for me to be anyone else.” Rin ducked her head a little and looked up at me through her bangs. “So. How was your week?”
Her normally-dark eyes were entirely different, reflecting light like a cat’s and her irises were streaked with blue, green, and purple. Her smile wobbled uncertainly. Rin’s hair caught the light strangely, reflecting red and violet in turn. Her chakra felt different, with an edge I couldn’t fully identify. Most of the chakra signatures I was used to were half-sensory data generally incongruous with people. I could compare them to shadows, or cheerful little fires, or lightning strikes.
I’d never run into a variation that felt like singing.
It felt like the damned mission objective from before this clusterfuck started.
Ugh, thought for later. I replied instead, “Not even a week. It’s…been interesting. Sorry I didn’t come find you sooner.”
“I mean, it wasn’t so bad. Not the worst survival training I’ve had!” Then she hugged me hard enough to make me think of crying uncle, if I hadn’t been doing the same right back. Dammit, I’d missed Rin. “But we’re both safe. That’s something. ”
“I went straight into survival mode,” I admitted after we pulled apart a bit. She still had one of my hands in hers, and was performing a medical scan even as I spoke. “There were some travelers who dragged me out of a river. I came in with them just this morning.”
“That’s…a little more adventurous than what I’ve been doing,” Rin said. She peered up at me, curiosity alight in her eyes. “Kei, you’re not using Isobu’s chakra, are you? It doesn’t quite feel like that, but your biology is very different right now. What happened?”
“Well…” I dropped the pretense of still looking human. “I got a makeover.”
Rin paused with her mouth dropping open in shock. Now that she knew where my horns were, she hesitated for a second with a fingertip a little above the central one. Even as she touched it, her expression was briefly unreadable even as her chakra started to jump up and down in excitement.
“Been thinking of filing that one down,” I mumbled.
“You look a little like an oni,” Rin breathed, a smile slowly spreading across her face. There was no way I was getting away from her now, and I’d never been happier to be on the recieving end of Rin’s fantastic gush sessions. “This is why your scan was so strange! Do those horns weigh you down? And the tail—that’s Isobu-san’s tail with fewer plates, isn’t it? Did someone modify pants for you? Are you feeling strange any other way?
“Um… So about...” I made a sweeping motion to encompass everything that had changed about my body.
“So I’m glad you’re here. You’re still Kei, even if you’re different-looking now.” Rin nodded firmly. “Aside from the obvious, nothing really changed! So, what else is different? You were vague about the week.”
“I… I’m pretty sure I joined a circus.”
Rin said nothing for a second.
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s what throws you off?”
“I really can’t imagine you wearing makeup and performing for the public.” Rin was obviously biting down a laugh. “You don’t even put on foundation during ceremonies back home!”
I rolled my eyes. “With one exception. And when you’re doing all the work for me.”
“Exactly!”
Still, we were making our way out of the alleyways and back toward the rest of town. I didn’t particularly care about being seen as a tiefling once I wasn’t alone. Some things invited a fight. A pair of foreign tourists would probably invite scams first, provided no one decided to ask for papers I was sure Rini didn’t have. It was Rin’s first time in a world where she wasn’t aligned with the legal authority anywhere. Konoha backed us. Nobody here would.
“I’m going to need to get Isobu to translate for you when I can’t,” I said while we walked. “The main language here is the same one those star people spoke. Sorry.”
To answer me, Rin sighed, “That explains a lot.” Rin’s focus stayed mostly on me as we walked through town, though I could see her glancing around at the various buildings that didn’t look at all like home. Hadn’t seen any steeple roofs yet, though.
I am about as happy with this as she is. The circus does not know I can talk.
Rin was adaptable, though. She got along well with Isobu in at least a theoretical sense, because to my knowledge they almost never directly interacted. Rin’s focus was on medicine, so she had a fantastic time quizzing me and other experts about how Tailed Beasts lived and could function as chakra given form. I’d never met a Tailed Beast I didn’t think Rin would gush over, because her fascination overrode what most people could consider healthy fear.
It was kind of the opposite of how Isobu interacted with most of the circus. Isobu had a lot more fun messing with them that he ever would with Rin.
“How’s this town been to you?” I asked instead.
“Not super great.” Rin put a finger to her lips as she thought. “I mean, I didn’t get anything like the negative reaction I’ve seen directed at other people, but I can’t talk to anyone here. I’ve been stealing a lot.” She paused for a second as we ducked past a pair of halflings hawking fish, sizing them up before continuing her thought. “Things feel tense here. It’s not just about me. You can feel it too, right?”
The humans are mobilizing.
I repeated this remark for Rin’s benefit, and her brow furrowed.
While maps were in short supply in the era before printing presses—which was a fact I hated for several reasons—I knew enough about the local geography to figure rural Trostenwald and the villages I’d passed were in the southern end of a massive empire. I couldn’t recall offhand what the other towns were called without a way to check my spelling, but I’d been listening to town criers. Such as there were, in such tiny communities.
Somebody up to the north and east was trying to start shit.
“That said,” I added once I’d explained my limited information, “I wanted to mention the whole ‘human’ thing we keep using as shorthand.”
“I know neither of us are fully human anymore, but I don’t want to call anyone ‘yōkai’ when it doesn’t fit.” Rin eyed the street again, and between the two of us we picked out at least half a dozen different races without a problem. A fifth of the town’s population seemed to be halflings, while humans made up a decent chunk of the other eighty percent. That said, there were also half-orcs besides Bo, a single humanoid white dragon without wings, and half-elves here and there. “It’s disrespectful even if no one else understands me. But do you know what everyone would be called?”
“I’d have to ask a few specific questions, but yes. Mostly.” I pointed at my face, at my flat yellow eyes and otherwise quite eye-catching palette. “I’m a tiefling, for example.” Or I looked the part, at least. “There’s another one in the circus, but he looks different. Ten to one Isobu’s influence is the reason I look specifically like this.”
I heard that.
“Interesting. That must mean there’s an established population, right? Or more than one. The horns are probably…genetic?” Rin looked thoughtful again. “Hm… Outside of Curse Seal transformations, I’ve never seen humans with tails or horns. That said, transformations outside of surface-level techniques are definitely possible. I’d only have to look at the Inuzuka clan know that.” She thought that over. “Any idea how this happened?”
“Not a damn clue,” I admitted. “I just—maybe that mission…” If only I could remember clearly what the hell had happened.
“Could be,” Rin agreed softly.
But the rest of that conversation was put on hold by a quick hand signal as I spotted a familiar duo winding their way through the streets. They hadn’t seen us yet, but frankly? If anybody could miss a pair like Molly, the walking kaleidoscope, and Yasha, death metal incarnate, as they passed out fliers with smarmy charm and a solid dash of silent intimidation, I hadn’t met them yet.
Rin followed my gaze in the brief second I gave myself away. “Circus?”
“Circus,” I confirmed. As we changed our path from aimless wandering to an intercept course, I added, “And they think my name’s ‘Caretta’ right now. In case it comes up.”
“I don’t speak their language, remember?” Rin reminded me mildly. When I looked, she had her hands clasped demurely and amusement sparked faintly through her. “I’m sure they’ll be looking to you first.”
Bleh. “We really need to get Isobu on this translating thing.”
Ugh.
Rin fell entirely silent as we sized up the Nestled Nook Inn, which was two stories tall and probably only large enough to have half a dozen rooms. Not impressive, but my standards were fucked and the circus probably had an established circuit even in these small towns.
Molly and Yasha wouldn’t stay long, because the shock of a walking rainbow headbutting his way into an unrelated conversation only worked so many times with witnesses. Which was why Yasha was there. Molly might’ve been taller than either Rin or Kei were, but Yasha could pick up two grown men and bash them together until they stopped causing trouble. Being a bouncer must’ve been interesting. No one would cause trouble this early in the morning, right?
With that middle finger firmly directed toward whatever patron of luck I’d already pissed off by existing, I headed inside anyway.
Rin followed, though she stayed back to keep any eye on the entire room from a spot beside the door. She was enthusiastic and bright when everyone around could understand her comments, but she wasn’t nearly as imposing as anybody in this roughneck place. She was happier keeping in the background unless she had to watch over genin. Or the civilians that genin inevitably ran roughshod over while trying to help.
Funny how Yasha was doing the same thing, just on the opposite side of the doorway. I didn’t make it past either of them.
“—It’s just five copper. A steal. At five silver, it would be a steal, at five gold?” Molly rattled off, his spiel landing two table’s worth of fish. I picked out two humans, a blue tiefling—who looked a lot more like Molly than she did like me—a half-orc and a tiny figure who might’ve been a halfling. There was a tiny part of my brain that said “adventurers!” before it went quiet under Isobu’s laughter. “Worth every penny. But if you’ve got the five copper to spend, we would happily have you all.”
The blue tiefling was starry-eyed already. “Do you perform?”
Molly hardly missed a beat. He did look like a sword-juggler or something, after all. I sure didn’t. “Ah. I’m less of a performer and more of an intermediary for these parts. I do on occasion perform. I can read fortunes—”
“I was going to ask if you read fortunes! Can you do one now?” the blue tiefling asked, almost bouncing in her seat.
Molly grinned. Hook, line, sinker. “I knew you were going to ask that.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re so smart. Look at this guy, he knows everything!” And with that, she made a space for him at her group’s table without a second’s pause.
“Yasha,” I said in an undertone, because there was no way I was throwing Molly off a roll like that.
Yasha did fix both odd-colored eyes on me, just for a bit, and Rin stood tall as she realized I’d called someone out by name. Especially a name she’d easily be able to pronounce. Yasha’s gaze flicked to Rin, widened a bit, but there was a nervous edge there. She wouldn’t want to talk about it.
“Is everything going well?” I asked.
“I think so,” Yasha said, already turning her attention back to Molly’s audience with an air of trying really hard to avoid a conversation. I didn’t know what that was about. “Um, excuse me.”
“Yasha’s quiet,” I told Rin once she was embroiled in that little scene. “You’ll like her.”
“Have we seen what we need to?” Rini asked, though she couldn’t quite hide the tiny spark of curiosity. It wasn’t as though this town was swimming in doctors or biological standouts other than the obvious. Her interests were pretty well self-contained.
“Yeah, mainly. I could try to catch them on the way out, but it seems like they’re busy.” A thought occurred to me. “You know, we kind of match?”
“Hm?”
“Brightly colored tiefling and someone with slightly less obvious nonhuman features. It’s kind of neat.”
Rin smiled, her long braid waving behind her as she swayed from side to side. “To Isobu?”
“Sure.”
In a town where the only famous export seemed to be three kinds of beer, ale, or whatever it was this week, people drinking in the streets probably wouldn’t have put most people off. But since Rin disliked the smell and taste of alcohol, we cut past the crowds wherever possible. In no time at all, we were in the circus staging area well ahead of the impending night crowd.
I managed to make introductions to the group without stumbling too badly over myself, or maybe Ornna was just taking pity on me for once. The line was pretty thin with her, and despite the language barrier Rin busted out the mission diplomat skill-set like it’d never gathered dust in the first place. It mostly consisted of bowing with perfect poise and prompting me with observations to translate when I couldn’t think of anything worth saying, but overall I think we made a decent impression. Rin even got to keep her real name, because Rin didn’t give a shit about nicknames.
Which she would get, and in spades, once the rest of the group got back. Probably.
Rin went to retrieve Isobu—who was apparently stalking Kylre to a degree that was genuinely worrying poor Toya—Gustav pulled me aside for a second.
“How can I help?” I asked automatically.
“I hate to ask,” Gustav said as I wrung my hands, “but do you mind just sticking around for the show tonight?”
“I—huh? I mean…” I blinked. It wasn’t like I was that familiar with this town. And even if I was, comfort zones were a thing. I was, by however narrow a margin, much more inclined to follow the circus around than I was to rent a room in Trostenwald with the money I didn’t have. “I mean, I don’t…”
I’d just introduced Rin to them., so I kind of wanted the afternoon off. And the evening. An afternoon of catching up was not making up for the week I’d avoided thinking about my situation for fear of triggering my homesickness like a rising tide. And Rin needed help getting around, too. I wanted to sit her down with a local encyclopedia so we could pool our ignorance and start figuring out how to get out of here.
“Not as an attendee,” Gustav clarified quickly, and suddenly his hesitance made more sense. Slightly. “Could you help out around the grounds for a few hours? I know we haven’t paid you, but it seems like Molly and Yasha are going to be drawing quite a crowd. We could use just a little help.”
Because I was a pushover, I said, “Just let me know where you need me.”
“And your…” Gustav paused, grasping at a word before settling in, “Partner? Well, she can hang around. And you can both attend the show for free if you like. I know Ornna will complain, but you’ve earned a ticket for anyone you can name. Just one, though, or Ornna actually will have me by the ears this time.”
I couldn’t decide if Isobu was going to be offended more over not being invited or not counting as a person.
Both.
You’ll be a closed-captioning device. It gives you an excuse to talk the entire time!
I thought you said people who talked in the theater went to hell.
Like that’s a deterrent for you.
True.
“I’ll be there, Gustav,” I said, and that was about the point when Rin and Isobu came back. I did my best to surreptitiously point them out to Gustav. “But I’ll be in the city instead of attending if I can have the evening off. I hope you understand.”
Gustav’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, I think I do.”
Isobu had wrapped both of his outside tails around Rin’s waist, with his hands gripping the shoulder pads of what only looked like a plain, long coat. His little spiked head poked out from behind Rin’s thick braid of faintly iridescent hair, and his eye glared balefully at me for having asked him to submit to such an indignity. As though he didn’t like riding on people’s shoulders and ordering them around.
Pff.
“Oh, hey Gustav?” I said, before the ringmaster could amble away.
“Hm?”
“Watch this.” I cleared my throat and, with a wicked little smile hidden deep down, I said, “Isobu, speak.”
Isobu glared at me harder. “I am not some pet performing tricks! I demand compensation for this flagrant abuse of my talents.” Silently, while Gustav looked between the demonic turtle and Rin—who was looking as innocent as a possible ventriloquist could—Isobu added, Did I do that right?
Perfectly.
Even with her charming smile I had to admit Rin was a likely culprit, and Gustav zeroed in on her immediately. “Nice trick.”
Rin shrugged, once she’d heard Isobu’s quiet translation. “I can’t tell him what to do.”
“Damn right.”
Isobu and Rin ended up spending most of the afternoon trailing me around. While they did get to have lunch with me and the circus crew—though Isobu didn’t eat—most of their day consisted of training. I worked to help set up the evening’s show, as biddable as any roadie, though sometimes Ornna would pop by and tell me to tie knots differently or else something would tip over. Sometimes I’d overhear Isobu and Rin’s bursts of Japanese as the pair talked, with Isobu acting sort of as a guide where I couldn’t.
“That is Kylre, who smells as much like sulfur as fish. Kei told me he is a lizardfolk, and he is very close with Toya.” Isobu said while they walked past the “dressing room,” which Kylre was about a half a meter too large on each side to fit into. Luckily, his Devil Toad act didn’t really require anything.
Rin didn’t hold her as they passed, but it was clearly a close thing. “You can smell that too?”
“No, but Kei did.” Isobu swung so his weight was mostly on Rin’s right shoulder, allowing him to peer over the left better. “Toya is their singer, and she sings almost as well as me.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Rin told him, clearly humoring my anti-conscience.
“Caretta, I need you over by the stage to help Bo!” Gustav called.
“Got it!” I responded, and left them to their work.
(“Not to make a judgement, but doesn’t Kylre feel…strange somehow? He reminds me of you, but only now that I can see him properly.”
“I noticed that, too. No one else seems to want to make a fuss. Or they are oblivious.”
“I see.”)
Eventually, the sun started setting. On my chore route, I’d passed Molly’s fortune-telling station and waved to him, though he’d been busy with a pretty clueless customer and I’d been carrying ten kilos of rope and another coil of safety lines. He winked back, and I was already on my way to the tent to help sort out whatever needed sorting. I wouldn’t get to see the show, but there’d be other nights. I liked Gustav’s crew well enough, but I’d been to the Ringling Brothers show once. I had some idea what everyone was in for.
Only there wouldn’t be any motorcycles.
“Time to go,” I said, once I had passed my last coil of rope off to Bo. The half-orc waved me off, wishing me a peaceful evening, and I joined Rin and Isobu before we all disappeared into the night.
See, my only real plan was to find a used bookstore and introduce Rin to local literature, solely because she had to be dying of boredom in a country where she couldn’t speak the primary language. Maybe we could have sparred a bit to make sure neither of us had lost our edge despite the changes my body had gone through. Hell, we could have watched moonrise just to enjoy having someone else around who understood our situation.
I heard, the next morning, that the carnival’s show that night turned into a horror movie.
So did mine.
#it must be a thursday#Rin Nohara#Keisuke Gekko#Isobu#critical role#crossover#Mollymauk Tealeaf#Yasha#Gustav Fletching
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German pork schnitzel. Learn how to make Authentic German Pork Schnitzel the way your favorite German restaurants make it. All the tips and tricks are included for making the absolute PERFECT schnitzel! German Schnitzel is a quick and easy, yet elegant dish of crispy breaded pork cutlets that is perfect for a weeknight dinner or an Oktoberfest celebration!
German pork schnitzel or Schwein Schnitzel as it is called in Germany is almost a national dish in Germany and very, very popular, and for a real good reason. I do travel a lot in Germany due to my. This Authentic German Schnitzel Recipe has been passed down for generations.
Hello everybody, it is Brad, welcome to our recipe page. Today, I will show you a way to prepare a special dish, german pork schnitzel. It is one of my favorites food recipes. This time, I'm gonna make it a bit unique. This will be really delicious.
German pork schnitzel is one of the most favored of current trending foods on earth. It's enjoyed by millions daily. It's simple, it is fast, it tastes delicious. They're fine and they look fantastic. German pork schnitzel is something that I have loved my whole life.
Learn how to make Authentic German Pork Schnitzel the way your favorite German restaurants make it. All the tips and tricks are included for making the absolute PERFECT schnitzel! German Schnitzel is a quick and easy, yet elegant dish of crispy breaded pork cutlets that is perfect for a weeknight dinner or an Oktoberfest celebration!
To get started with this particular recipe, we have to first prepare a few ingredients. You can have german pork schnitzel using 11 ingredients and 7 steps. Here is how you cook that.
The ingredients needed to make German pork schnitzel:
{Prepare of boneless pork loin (use boneless chicken if preferred).
{Prepare of Season with salt and black ground pepper.
{Make ready of Coating meat:.
{Get of flour for coating the pork (or chicken).
{Make ready of Sprinkle of salt and pepper (added to flour, optional).
{Prepare of eggs, lightly beaten.
{Take of golden breadcrumbs (any brand of preference).
{Prepare of Frying meat:.
{Get of vegetable oil, for shallow frying (or any cooking oil of preference).
{Make ready of Garnish:.
{Prepare of lemon, sliced into wedges (optional).
Use this same method for pork schnitzel, veal schnitzel (weiner schnitzel), or chicken schnitzel. Oma's easy German Schnitzel recipe is a perfect addition to your German food recipe collection. Schnitzel are really just thin cutlets and can be made from veal, pork, chicken, turkey. just about. In Germany, Schnitzel is usually made of pork, although turkey, chicken and veal are also common.
Steps to make German pork schnitzel:
In one baking tray add flour (add salt and pepper, optional), in the other tray, the golden breadcrumbs. In a bowl crack the eggs and gently beat it and set aside..
On a chopping board, place the first piece of meat. Using a meat tenderiser, pound on both sides until flat and roughly 1cm thick. Season with salt and pepper, transfer to a plate. Repeat step 2 for remaining loins and set aside..
Place the plate of meat, tray with flour, bowl with beaten egg and tray of breadcrumbs (in that order), in a row like a conveyor belt. Doing this makes it easier to dip the meat into each of the ingredients. Place a large tray next to the breadcrumbs, to transfer and place the coated loins on there..
Dip the pork in flour and coat evenly on both sides. After into the egg mixture, let any excess run off. Lastly dip into the breadcrumbs (generously coat the meat). Shake off any loose breadcrumbs and place on a large plate. Repeat step 4 with remaining loins..
Next, add oil in a frying pot and heat up to around 160 degrees. Tip: do a heat test by placing a piece of breadcrumb in the oil, if it begins to sizzle, the oil is ready. Place one to two pieces into the pot. Cook the meat until lightly golden brown on the bottom side and turn over..
After a few minutes turn meat over again when that side is golden brown. To ensure the meat is fully cooked through and to get a crispy coating. Keep turning every few minutes until golden brown. Transfer to tray or large plate lined with paper towel to drain excess oil. Repeat until all the meat has been fried..
Serve with potato salad or mash potato, salad and sauerkraut. Or with chips and peas (if adding lemon, drizzle over pork lion)..
During a visit to Berlin, we learned that the coating for authentic German pork Schnitzel, or Schweineschnitzel, is dry breadcrumbs. My schnitzel recipe is not only a traditional and well-loved German food recipe, this is also an illustrated guide to show you how get the best results cooking a German Schweineschnitzel (pork. Pork Schnitzel is a traditional German dish made with thin slices of pork that are lightly fried in a flour, egg, and breadcrumb coating. Thank you National Pork Board for sponsoring this post. Pork Schnitzel is definitely one of our favorites!
So that is going to wrap this up with this exceptional food german pork schnitzel recipe. Thanks so much for reading. I am confident that you will make this at home. There's gonna be more interesting food in home recipes coming up. Don't forget to bookmark this page on your browser, and share it to your loved ones, friends and colleague. Thank you for reading. Go on get cooking!
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Recognizing the complexities, associated with coronavirus, Chuckanut Brewery updates their Oktoberfest party.
Press Release
With Covid upon us in 2020 Chuckanut Brewery has decided to change up how to celebrate Oktoberfest and all that is fall! September 11-13 there will be specially priced liter mugs of Chuckanut German Style beers, Oktoberfest decorations and aged beer! And the celebrations will take place at both North (Bellingham noon-8pm) and South (Port of Skagit 1-6 pm) Nuts. Everyone is encouraged to come visit in their best German dress including lederhosen, dirndls and the whole nine yards. If you come in costume you’ll get $1 off your first beer! This year we can still celebrate but we will have a socially distanced celebration, with masks required when not sitting and no Chicken Dance, singing or games. But we can still have fun at our tables of 5 or less drinking out favorite Chuckanut beers.
As usual both Chuckanut locations will have Fest Bier 2020, Dunkel Lager, Helles Lager, Maibock, Vienna Lager, and various other German style lagers as well as aged Doppelbock on tap. Liter mugs will be discounted and your Fest Bier will be served in a half liter mug! At North Nut there will be German inspired food specials including a Brat Plate and Brat Calzone. Enjoy your Oktoberfest in a whole new way and celebrate the coming of fall. Even though Germany is not having their annual Munich Oktoberfest Chuckanut still has an updated version at North and South Nut. Prost!
Chuckanut Brewery & Kitchen, located at 601 West Holly St, Bellingham, was awarded the National Small Brewpub/Brewer of the Year 2009 and National Small Brewery/Brewer of the Year 2011 at the Great American Beer Festival. Currently both locations offer outdoor seating (covered and waterside) as well as to-go pick-up for kegs, growlers and bottles of Chuckanut beer. A full food menu is available at North Nut. The South Nut Tap Room at 11937 Higgins Airport Way, Burlington is located at the Port of Skagit. Now both locations are open 7 days per week: North Nut (Monday-Sunday 12-8 pm) and South Nut (Monday-Thursday 3-6 pm and Friday-Sunday 1-6 pm) during phase 2 of Covid rules. Check out additional information about Chuckanut at www.chuckanutbrewery.com.
from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/2FjNud1
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Talking Tickets 15 May 2020--AFL! Bundesliga! Refunds! And, More!
Hey There!
Thanks for being here again this week. If you are enjoying this newsletter, tell your friends and colleagues to sign up by visiting this link.
Don’t forget to check out what we are doing in the Slack Channel. The folks in there try to keep it fun and light while offering up ideas and perspectives on what they are thinking about, looking at, and doing.
A bunch of great free resources are going on right now, here are 3 from friends of the podcast and the newsletter that are worth your attention:
Eric Fuller has his virtual conference, Rescue Meet, going on the 19th from 9-11 AM PDT. He’s got a couple of conversations lined up with folks from venues, tickets, and the customer side along with a few other tricks, opportunities to connect with folks in the industry to work on solutions and to focus on moving forward.
We Will Recover is an effort started up by Einar, Martin, and the team at Activity Stream over in Europe. Frederic Aouad is co-hosting a webinar with me on 26 May at 9 AM EDT and 2 PM EDT to hit the North American and European markets. We are going to talk about recreating your revenue streams, rethinking your marketing approach, and building events that are destinations for your customers.
Andrew and Carol Thomas have put the Ticketing Professionals Conference online, or as many of the sessions from this year’s event as they could online. There are some really great ones coming up with Kara Parkinson, Kirk Bentley, and a bunch more.
There are a bunch more as well including weekly meetings with INTIX, Pollstar, and more.
And, don’t forget, me and my buddy, Ken Troupe, are hosting happy hour tonight.
To the tickets!
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1. Reopening events is starting to happen:
I start the week by sharing Dave Grohl’s essay on why we need live entertainment.
Tonight, we will see the first American attempt, potentially, at a social distancing concert in Arkansas. (Spoiler, as I was finishing this up, the event in Arkansas was postponed.)
The Bundesliga is returning as well.
These are all positive signs. But from my conversations with folks around the industry, we are still a long way off from being together with crowds again.
The UK released a three-phase plan this week. Cinemas are starting to reopen in New Zealand and the certification process for venues and stadiums to reopen safely is well underway.
In the US, we are still playing on the 50 state 50 strategy idea that likely means we are going to continue to experience a prolonged period of waiting for business to start to get back to normal. Which is going down against a backdrop of optimism around the NBA and NHL finishing their seasons and a lot of uncertainty around MLB even getting theirs off the ground.
Again, I’ve been pretty consistent on this one…
Watch what the countries that are out in front are doing like South Korea, New Zealand, Australia, and China…see what works and see what doesn’t, recognizing that in certain countries and places, the response to the virus has been a little more robust, targeted, and comprehensive. Then, adjust accordingly.
I wish I had a better answer, but I think we have to recognize that the path ahead is going to be a bit bumpy and that there isn’t likely to be a straight line.
But…I mean, BUNDESLIGA!
Who is your side?
I’m taking Bayern Munich because Munich is home of Oktoberfest.
Or, do you prefer to go to see a drive-in show?
2. Marketing, Revenue, and Rethinking What We Do:
Ceci Dadisman wrote about the conversation that seems to be picking up in too many places about things “going back to normal”.
I had a colleague email me the other morning, bemoaning the nature of a lot of conversations that they see taking place as “not productive” or “looking at the wrong things.”
From my point of view, for a lot of places, the way things were wasn’t at a level they needed to be to begin with: sports attendance was down and something most organizations were thinking through globally; the arts, opera, and theatre were seeing challenges to their business model; prices were up and costs were up, making profits tougher to come by.
My vantage is that over the next few years we are likely to see more challenges to profits, greater competition for customers, and less free-spending from investors, the secondary market, speculators and consolidators.
What does all of this mean for all of us?
I think we all need to become comfortable with the idea of innovation being our friend.
Marketing had gone to the crapper before the coronavirus. I could go on and on and I have in private conversations about the deterioration of the marketing role in organizations because folks are afraid to talk about being in marketing because that’s where the money is.
Instead, folks get lost on misguided ideas like “clicks”, “likes”, “reach”, and other terms that aren’t directly attached to money.
Our marketing efforts going forward are going to have to be heavy on revenue generation, getting people into events, and making one time customers repeat customers. For any business, you have to create and keep customers. In far too many instances, that idea is being mouthed, but not followed through on.
I say more about revenue and rethinking below. But marketing and strategy should be on the agenda for every call, meeting, and brainstorming session we are all having.
3. Australian Sports Business Is Back, But What Comes Next?
Australia has a lot of news coming out about the return of sports with the big news of the AFL’s blockbuster return on 11 June.
While the return of sports is exciting for all of us, especially Melbourne fans like me?!
A lot of the conversation around the return of sport has revolved around will the industry contract and how will the country deal with potentially having to endure its first official recession in almost 30 years.
Hawthorne president Jeff Kennett is asking questions about how to reform the AFL’s business heading out of the pandemic, the NBL could see players leave the league due to the virus, and the A-League is having to go to a hub system to complete its fixtures.
There have been a lot of interesting things going on in Australia and New Zealand both since they’ve handled the virus very well and they are in the Southern Hemisphere.
First, we need to pay attention to how these leagues and organizations monetize. The AFL’s membership program is a pretty great example of monetization of your audience, globally.
Second, we will have to watch what happens as they head into the fall and winter and whether or not there is a snapback of the coronavirus as they head into their flu and cold season.
Third, it will be interesting to see how the Australians capitalize on the absence of sports in the States over the next few weeks since the AFL was broadcasting live to the west coast of the US before the coronavirus shut down Australia as well.
4. Ticketmaster, Refunds, and Finger Pointing:
Representatives Pascarell and Porter wrote a letter in Billboard this week, admonishing Ticketmaster’s behavior during the pandemic.
The letter from Washington was quickly followed up by one from Jared Smith, defending Ticketmaster’s practices.
Jared Smith is absolutely correct when he is explaining his points, but the first rule of crisis PR as credited to Ronald Reagan is “if you are explaining, you are losing.”
That’s where Ticketmaster finds itself along with StubHub and other companies.
I’m not saying it is right or wrong, but the pandemic has exposed the shaky financial underpinnings of a lot of businesses, including live entertainment.
Currently, Live Nation is raising around $800 million by selling off debt.
And, it was good to see that the company is thinking about experimentation heading into the back half of 2020.
From a customer point of view, every one of these examples is a stain on the industry. We’ve had StubHub getting hit heavy, early on. Ticketmaster and Live Nation are taking heat now. We’ve had mismatched refund, exchange, or compensation packages from teams all over the place around the world.
Maybe, most amazingly, I sat in on a call where people were debating ways to avoid paying back fees to customers on tickets they purchased for events that can’t happen, won’t happen, or might never happen.
Again, each of these points creates another dent in the armor of trust between industry and customer and the habit of going to shows, events, and games.
I feel a lot like a broken record here, but none of this stuff happens without customers, fans, and buyers. In an industry where there are so many unsold tickets to begin with, to expect that folks are just going to come rushing back and eat poop to do so is ridiculous.
I recognize it is an uncertain time for everyone, but the longer these refund stories stick around…the more damaging it becomes.
5. Vince McMahon and the XFL…
Well, the XFL isn’t going quietly into the night…I see.
This isn’t the kind of story that I typically find interesting, but as we are dealing with a lot of new ideas due to the pandemic, it pays to think things through differently.
With this story about Oliver Luck and Vince McMahon, there are a few things to pay attention to here.
First, Vince McMahon guaranteed Luck’s contract. I’ve had a couple of folks call me and ask me about taking on new jobs or moving after our lockdowns let up.
Basically, they are looking for advice and I think the wise decision is to make sure you get guarantees.
Second, the basis for not paying the contract is pretty weak.
The precedent that is set here if McMahon wins would be pretty awful for folks, period.
I highlight this story for a few reasons, but I think if you look at what this story highlights about the coming future of what we are dealing with in events and especially sports a couple of ideas come to mind:
1. Strategy matters and it seems like the strategy that the XFL was built on was suspect. The pandemic has highlighted this at a macro level now and I think we are going to see a renewed necessity to adjust the sales process, innovate pricing, and focus on driving attendance.
2. Pick your partners well.
3. Multiple streams of revenue, product-market fit, and testing the basic assumptions of “what everyone knows” or thinks is going to be more important than ever.
Look at the NBA, they are as “innovative” as any league in American sports and 40% of their revenue is tied up in getting fans to come to the arena. This tells you that really two revenue streams drive their entire business: TV and in-game. Something about “all your eggs in one basket” comes to mind.
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What am I up to this week?
Not a lot planned. It is the final week of 4th grade homeschooling…so once we are through that, maybe I can get back to a slightly more normal schedule.
Make sure to check me out on social media and follow along with me at www.davewakeman.com
Please follow and like us:
Talking Tickets 15 May 2020–AFL! Bundesliga! Refunds! And, More! was originally published on Wakeman Consulting Group
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My God! They Let the Irish Into the White Race!
What the hell were they thinking?
I just took a look at what constitutes "white" on the census forms and discovered mistakes all over the place. First of all, they have lumped Irish, Catholics, Jews, Swiss, Swedes, Englanders and French into a "White Race". I mean, COME ON! The Irish are bad enough, but to force Englanders to share the same racial designation as the French?
Honestly? I'm expecting riots from both sides.
Oh! My! God! They have lumped the Irish in with the Scots! Are they purposely trying to find out how much stress the "White" designation can take! I fear the day someone informs a Scotsman that he's considered the same as an Irishman or vice-versa! I will place the blame for all the dead squarely on the Census Bureau.
Then I did some research and received further shocks.
Did you know that many in the Ghettos consider Korean shop keepers "Whites" as well? In the day I've heard residents say, "Korean is just another name for White."
A few years ago, a Hispanic named George Zimmerman was attacked by a Black kid. In the reports from the national news feeds, George suddenly found himself classified as a "White-Hispanic." Can you imagine his surprise? All of his life he'd grown up Hispanic and then suddenly, in one day, he was White!
Then there are the Injuns. I'd bet most people in America have a little Injun in them. Me? As near as I can tell, my great-grandparents' great-grandparents had an Injun or three. One of my siblings cycles through Black-Injun-Slightly White during a year, depending on the amount of sunshine and exercise he gets during the summer. He can start off mostly White in the spring and end up Black, sho nuff, Black as can be!
One year he joined the army and there was a Black kid he in his Unit and no one could tell them apart -- after going through bootcamp during SUMMER. Even his mother and grandmother couldn't tell him apart from his comrade. Once fall and winter set in, the twining aspects faded completely.
Frankly, I consider him more Camanche than anything else; it's the most prevalent trait that pops up.
As for the rest of my gene pool, I've got everything except Oriental. I've got a little bit of everything in my genetic history. It's mostly the Viking in me that shines through: Blonde hair, hazel eyes, big boned and so on.
So imagine my surprise when I learned that the U.S. Census Bureau considers me and most of those others mentioned above as one race!
Since that is just silly, when asked I honestly answer that I am two or more races.
Then I learned I am not the only "White" person to do this. More and more White people are declaring themselves people of many races.
Every once in a while you learn that the White Race is doomed in America. What many fail to realize is that as the White decrease, the "Two or More" races increases.
When speaking with my darker skinned relatives, I was informed quite often that there were Blacks and "Everyone Else". Some of my "Black" relatives and friends told me that if you were not "Black" and did not look "Black" then you were "White;" No Ifs, Ands or Buts about it! Black or White, no in-between!
It was then that my physics classes kicked in.
In physics we are also taught that there are, in fact, only two colors: White and Black.
White is a COMBINATION of ALL colors while Black EXCLUDES all other colors.
Using a prism, we discover that White light can be separated into individual colors of a rainbow. When those rainbow colors are sent through another prism to be recombined they produce the White color again!
Okay, technically, Brown and Gray are hard to chase down in a White light, but in a dim White light, even Brown and Gray are in the rainbow.
So it turns out my kin folk and friends are right: There is Black and then there is all the Other Colors combined into the White race.
That certainly explains Kwanza! Kwanza was invented (yes, it was INVENTED) to give Blacks an exclusive, "No Other Races Allowed" ceremony to experience in addition to Christmas. As I understand it, one justification is that Christmas was started by ex-Jews and thus is a White Holiday.
Don't ask me. I just repeat what I hear.
Then, out of the blue, I remembered something else: The colors of the Rainbow also contain Black!
No, seriously, in some rainbows, at certain times, between the colorful lines, if you look closely, you'll see a thin strips of Blackness in the Multi-Color spread. Indeed, such lines are used in spectrometry to determine the chemical makeup of various substances (it's a long story. Just accept that Black can make up part of a White light).
So being a White light means containing EVERY Color even the Black ones.
...
This is mirroring humanity's aspects.
Look, eventually Hispanics will be absorbed into the "White" race. I mean, if Whites can absorb the Irish, they'll take anyone. (Luckily, the Irish recognize a good rub. You ever want to get into a good verbal fight, head to an Irish bar and see how well you survive the results. Again, it's a long story based on personal history.)
The Hispanics WILL BE (eventually) absorbed into the White light. A large portion of Blacks believe that White makes up anyone not Black.
Even Blacks are starting to be absorbed into the Whites -- you know, if they want to come. To be perfectly honest, we'd like having them with us.
The media and various people who want America fractured (more on these people in the future), keep doing all they can to keep Blacks from joining the Whites. Everything from changing the way the Black race is referenced (Negro, Black, Colored, African-American, People of Color, etc.) every twenty years -- You hadn't noticed? The reference for “Blacks” changes once every 20 years to keep the divisions active. If you allow one term to define a race, that race will get absorbed into the American melting pot.
The other technique they use is a constantly changing "offensive" symbol or word set -- In this case, every 2 years some symbol that is "only for Black usage" or "offensive to all Blacks" is introduced. This list is really hard to keep track of at times since it includes foods, products and pictures.
In this case, the items run from bananas, watermelon, fried chicken, ribs and colored greens to apes and monkeys, do-rags, sagging jeans, certain shoes, shower caps, crown air fresheners, wearing only one-glove to Confederate items and soldiers, the Bars and Stars, white shirts, big earrings, and accurate math, statistics and history skills.
Watch carefully and you'll realize the point of "shock" changes once every two years. It wouldn't be so bad if each item REPLACED the items before the current one, but the new items are ADDED to a list that is already impossible to track.
...
So, honestly? What would White REALLY like is for Blacks to FULLY join us.
I'm going tell you in absolutely honestly: Joining Whites means giving up the shock points and the name changes. A Swede is a Swede is a Swedish is a Swede. A Spaniard is a Spaniard, and so forth. Maybe a small change here and there, but basically there is one term for that particular group.
Then there are short term symbols. Me? I've been called a Bear, a Fox (the sneaky kind, not the sexy kind), a Snake and a few farm animals. Each time I didn't go screaming into the street claiming the person calling me those names is the worse being ever born in the Universe.
So if someone compares you to a monkey, well, let it pass. Comparing people to animals is a thing White people do to each other as part of the bonding process.
You also can’t fall down or get angry every time someone says something or does something stupid or stereotypical. White people are CONSTANTLY trying to find ways to view others and other things in ways they/we can understand.
A few years back, people went ape-shit when a Black actress was in a commercial eating friend chicken. At another time, gasps went up from the Black leadership when Black kids were offered watermelon at a party.
Again Whites know some times you need to let slide. The German side of my family LOVES a good sausage. The Injun side KNOWS what good corn REALLY should taste like. As for my Black relatives? Geezus! If you'd ever had my Black Grandma's recipe for colored greens, you'd think you were in Heaven!
But in NONE of those examples above would I or my Multi-Colored siblings take offense if my Black Grandma cooked sausages (which she grew up on), my White Grandma colored greens (which she also grew up on) or any of the kids were given Watermelon during the summer (which, honestly, I can't stand).
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The point is, the White race, in America, is an absorbing race. You don't lose your genetic ancestor being a White, as any of the races I mentioned that belong to being White will affirm. The Irish still celebrate Saint Patrick's Day -- were EVERYONE is Irish! The Germans still hold Oktoberfest -- where EVERYONE is German! Hispanics Cinco Da Mayo where EVERYONE needs a sombrero! And Juneteenth will be a day EVERYONE is Black, even if we're not exactly sure why!
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I guess what I'm saying is that, eventually, White does absorb EVERYTHING. So please, stop giving into all the shock and pain those who want to keep you separated from the melting pot and join us! The experience is a LOT nicer than trying to remember which word of the year you need to react to.
**
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Roots
Roots are a key part of someone’s sense of identity. Where we come from, our heritage, family, nation, and our overall feeling for who we become. This is also relevant to where you get an education, are employed, or a religion that you follow. These stay with us even when these things are mobile or not always found in the same spot. Our roots follow us everywhere, being our largest sense of the four.
This event ties into both Roots and Emotion but it feels more proper putting it into Roots, as it ties to my roots within Temple. Doing open house days at Temple for Klein College is a highlight of my first semester. Not only do I get to essentially brag about the school I love to be a part of but also get to do it with the other great people within my major who I have only grown closer to. (Molly)
As an Indian student who emigrated, it is hard to stay connected with the culture I grew up in. That is why the Indian student organization celebrates Diwali every year for those who are not able to celebrate Diwali with their friends and families in their home countries. This event is an amazing opportunity for Indian/Hindu students to spend time with their fellow students from all different universities around Philadelphia. The purpose of holding such an event is so all students from different parts of India from various universities can come together and talk about their culture, heritage, and family and connect with each other. They must remember what background they come from, and for them to be able to do that, the Diwali celebration is celebrated on campus every year. The celebration mainly focuses on the teachings mentioned in scriptures and Hinduism. This year, the event focused on the main topics: 1) truth, 2) simplicity, and 3) integrity. These topics were covered because, as a student, we get involved in a lot of things. Many times we do not think about our everyday actions, and these three points were covered so that we can apply them in every action we perform in our day-to-day life.
This event directly relates to the lens we selected, Packard's Theory of Needs, which focuses on Roots. It is evident how roots connect to this event because Packard's theory talks about heritage, family, our identity, and the nation we come from. Campus Diwali Celebration simply touches all these aspects, as it is organized so that all the students that are of Indian or Hindu backgrounds can come together and talk about their origin. They also remember and cherish the culture they come from.
The reason why an incoming student must go to this event specifically is that they can understand other cultures and get to know them. This event is not just for Indian students; any student of any university in Philadelphia are eligible to attend the event. This event will open your eyes to how students from different backgrounds celebrate their festivals. You, as an incoming first-year student, will be able to experience what it is like to be a student of different countries and religions. Also, not just that, you will get to try their food, and you will experience the festival of lights (Diwali) as though you are in the streets of India and celebrating with the locals. (Bhargav)
Temple University is a diverse and inclusive university. Students from all over the world get to be together and learn from each other. However, sometimes these foreign students would get homesick because of missing some traditional festivals in their own culture. PCCC is a group of Chinese students celebrating Chinese traditional festivals. On September 13 (Chinese lunar calendar August 15), PCCC students get together celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival (Yanwei).
Temple University has ISSS (International Student and Scholar Services) concerning the international students’ study and life at Temple University. The ISSS holds many events in order to bring international students and domestic students together and learn more about each other. On October 9, ISSS held an activity offering coffee and opportunities to communicate with other students. This helps international students to integrate into college life and foreign culture. These associations existing not only for accepting the new culture but also not forgetting the authentic culture. In the Student Center, many national flags are hanging. (Yanwei)
For the 2019-2020 school year, Temple opened up a brand new state of the art library. Charles library is available for student use for the first time after being announced three years ago. The new building includes north of 45 study areas, a green roof and rooftop seating area, and even a fully robotic book bot that students can use to search for and retrieve books. On September 19th, 2019 Temple hosted an event to celebrate and commemorate the new facility. Hundreds of students attended and were given the opportunity to tour the building and try out new equipment. There were live performances throughout and refreshments were provided for all attendees. I got to see the Diamond Marching band perform and there were also performances by Yolanda Wisher, and the Temple University Concert Choir. This event links to roots as well. Being a student at Temple, I now identify with the school. (Isaiah).
Temple Men’s Basketball team took on Morgan State University, based in Baltimore, in a nonconference home game earlier this season. The Owls picked up their second win remaining undefeated on the season. They were led by guards Nate Pierre Louis and Quinton Rose and dropped Morgan State to 1-1 on the current basketball season. The above picture is my friend Ahmir, a junior here at Temple, on the jumbotron at halftime. Ahmir and I attended the game together. He was selected from the crowd to shoot half-court shots for a chance to win a flat screen television during the halftime show.
With my decision to attend Temple, it has become a part of my roots. I now identify myself with Temple University being a student here. With me spending the next four years here at Temple, the school will inevitably have a great impact on my life as well as my future. Going forward being a Temple owl will be a crucial part of who I am and my roots as a person. Roots are an important part of everyone’s identity. A person’s roots are comprised of the things they identify with, for example, religion or ethnicity. A person’s roots can also include things like old schools, college, the place they call home, their country of origin, employer, place of work. These are all aspects of life that have major influence over who we develop to become as people. (Isaiah)
The third event that I attended was an Oktoberfest panel in the Liacouras Center. This struck me as an odd event because Temple definitely has its rules about alcohol. However, I really did enjoy myself at this panel. There were a couple of established breweries represented as well as a brewery debuting in 2020. It was interesting to hear the long term plans of the established breweries versus that of the one in its infancy. One common theme that was discussed several times on the panel was how long the history of craft brewing has been around in Philadelphia. Another thing they discussed is the fact that the breweries shouldn't look at each other as competition but as friends and cohorts in a journey to keep craft beer thriving in this area. After all, there is such a thing as a power in numbers. The panelists also discussed the ambition of having Philadelphia exclusive beers versus selling some of their craft beers nationwide. All of these things were great to hear from these panelists because I myself enjoy a good beer as much as the next man. The fact that these breweries were fostering good solid business practices and better relationships with other breweries around them makes me feel confident that the craft beer industry is here to stay in Philadelphia. (Jacob)
The last event that I attended was a talk by Debbie Cenziper debuting her book “Citizen 865.” This event was intriguing to me because of the subject matter of the book and a previous project that I have done for a previous class. The subject matter of the book and this project that I am referencing is what happened to nazi war criminals after the second world war ended. This has been a passion project of mine since I first did the project in 2017. It was nice to hear that other people had similar interests rooted in the history of post World War II. I felt like my personal research was aided by Mrs. Cenziper because she took the time to go visit Prague, see old nazi archives that had been uncovered and do her diligent research in figuring out what had happened to these war criminals. She highlighted the conversations she had with people in the justice department as well as other world war two scholars in her talk. Although I don't have the same resources as Mrs.Cenziper, the FBI, and CIA who have studied the migration of these war criminals extensively it felt good to get an understanding that people are taking these things as seriously as I do. She also discussed how many war criminals had been allowed to immigrate to the United States. From there people in the justice department persecuted, and often stripped the criminals of their U.S. Citizenship. After this was done they were often extradited (shipped back) to the country that they committed their crimes in for prosecution. Mrs.Cenziper was also gracious enough to give away free copies of her book to all in attendance. (Jacob)
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