#{ its the only way to keep the Pelicans at bay... }

[empresskadia]

you ever just lay on the floor and think about Kelly? Bro she’s so cool

Also it’s totally the nerd and bias in me but I feel like she’d love to have a scientist as partner. But more like the mad scientist type that goes out and does field work. May I make request for that???

*DRAMA GASP WITH SLOW TURN OF HEAD* oh, boy, do I. Kelly is one of the best girls. I think you will enjoy her chapter of Gentle Touches when it comes out, but in the meantime, it would be an honor to write this-

Of course, she wouldn't say no. Sure, any of the ODSTs or Marines would have been given the mission, but what was she supposed to do with downtime if you weren't around? Draw on John's face while he slept? Push Fred down the ship's air vents to see how far they went? Those were all good for a laugh, but she couldn't just let such precious cargo be left to the non-spartans, what if something happened? Regardless of whether the area was clear or not, she'd learned the hard way that everything could go wrong in seconds.

It was one thing to trust the ODSTs and Marines with a secure area, but the Covenant were unpredictable, and surprises were a given. So, when you asked for her company on the surface, there was no way she would refuse.

"I appreciate you being willing to come," Your voice carried through the pelican as you sat by her side, fiddling with the datapad in your lap. Kelly adjusted her armor, double-checking the seals and running through a mental checklist. It was muscle memory by now, but habit kept her thorough.

Every mission was critical, and every movement had to be precise. No matter if this was a route fieldwork assignment, she had to be prepared in case something was to happen or to protect you. "I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble without me. Who else is going to keep you out of it?" Her voice held a lightness to it, one she only ever used with the other Spartan and now you.

Spartans weren't known for their jokes, but Kelly had a way of keeping things light, even when things got heavy. It was one of the reasons you liked having her around. She kept the tension at bay while still being razor-sharp when it counted.

Plus, it was a bonus to have your girlfriend interested in your work, especially when you outfitted them with semi-banned explosives. Kelly glanced at you as she finished her armor checks, her visor reflecting the dim light in the pelican's interior. "Remember, if anything goes wrong, just follow my lead," she said with a grin. Not that you could see but had the feeling she was. "And try not to blow anything up until I give the signal."

"Can't make any promises," you replied, a smirk playing across your lips. You knew your girlfriend had a penchant for being fast and stealthy, while you leaned towards big and explosive. It made for an interesting dynamic, to say the least. Especially with your head being in the lab most of the time creating things to give the UNSC the upper hand, you had made an impression on the Spartans. One that got Linda-058 to lovingly name you a 'death tech' as they liked to say, and Fred-104 never let you forget it.

The Pelican jostled as it entered the planet's atmosphere, its engines flaring as it made its descent. The slight turbulence made you grip your datapad a bit tighter, while Kelly seemed unfazed, her armored hand reaching over to give your thigh a gentle squeeze and left her hand resting there. It was a small comfort, but it helped.

"You alright?" she asked, her voice crackling through the internal comms. Her visor was angled toward you, and even though you couldn't see her eyes, you could sense the concern. You gave her a short nod and a thumbs up, closing your eyes for a moment as the Pelican swiftly descended.

"Touchdown in three," the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom. Kelly released your thigh and stood up, her movements fluid and controlled despite the heavy armor. You secured your datapad and double-checked your sidearm, more so to ease your girlfriend's mind. "Touchdown," the pilot announced as the Pelican settled onto the ground with a soft thud. The ramp lowered, letting in a rush of cool, humid air. Beyond was the dark, dense forest that surrounded the drop zone, it was eerily quiet, minus the occasional bird chirp and humming of bugs.

"Ready?" Kelly asked, checking her weapon one last time while extending a hand to help you off. You nodded, sliding the datapad into your pack and taking her hand. She pulled you to your feet with ease, her hand never leaving yours as she did a quick sweep of the area.

"Lead the way," you replied, squeezing her hand. She nodded and stepped off the Pelican, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. You followed close behind, your eyes scanning the treeline for any signs of movement but ultimately felt relaxed.

After all, if anyone would protect you with their life, it was her.

[pretentiouswreckingball]

Some sunny day

******

I didn't plan for this to be this long, I was aiming for three pages at most but well, I had such a great time at the beach the other day that this little thing kind of reflects it. Chilean Lyall though is @sequinhaze fault, their post about Pedro Pascal as Lyall kinda messed with my head so, that part is your doing yaz. Anyway, here's a little fluffy thing.

*******

It’s a sunny day. 

James thinks those are the best days.

It’s a sunny day and a flock of seagulls and pelicans are chilling in the ocean, not far away from the coast. There is the sound of waves crashing loudly in the distance and the cold breeze is keeping the summer heat at bay. The sun is at its highest, lighting the seafoam as it’s made of tiny little crystals. 

James is sitting on a rock under the shadow of a palm tree, his toes buried in the sand, watching his family enjoying the evening. They’d been at the beach for a few hours and he just squeezed some time to just —watch. To treasure, these little moments of love unfurling in front of him. 

On James' right, there are Lyall and Teddy. 

Teddy was crawling towards the sea when James first sat down. The thing is, Teddy knows how to walk. James is aware of this because when his godson first stood up and walked, Sirius called him crying, babbling incoherent words for a solid five minutes before James could figure out what he was saying, before he found himself weeping alongside his best friend. 

Sometimes, Teddy prefers to crawl and that's completely fine, he's really good at it, mind, and he was making quite the progress in his journey, letting his poor grandpa fret behind him.

Only halfway through, Teddy suddenly stopped.

Lyall stopped too, trying to figure out what was wrong and oh, cachito mío qué pasa, ¿estás cansado? ¿quieres regresar? si ya ibas a llegar, poh! no pasa nada, ven, vamos but before Lyall has the opportunity to hold him up, Teddy turned around, his feet facing the water, and started crawling backwards.  

James chuckled in disbelief when that happened. Lyall too was in shock, eyes wide. The beach they're on doesn’t have even ground, more like a big natural pool a bit inclined towards the water, so when you walk down the coast, you tend to favour the side where the sea is at. It's not that noticeable at first sight but it is enough for a kid to feel the need to crawl backwards.

When Teddy was actually getting too close to the water, he stopped, stood up and walked the rest of the way, his little toes touching the wet sand. Snapping out of it, Lyall scooped him up and dragged him out before the next wave came.

They were now sitting sideways from the ocean, Lyall bracketing Teddy between his legs creating a small pool for his grandson to feel the water since he can’t actually do anything much, as he’s only two and a half years old. Teddy didn’t seem to mind much if his shrieks and giggles were anything to go by.

Behind them, far away down the coastline, two figures are making their way to them. 

Remus and Sirius are walking where the water meets the sand, holding hands. They went for a walk since Lyall was looking out for their son and from what it looks like from afar, they appear to be talking. 

Sirius is moving his free hand wildly as if he’s telling the most amazing story and Remus is smiling and laughing, which seems to brighten Sirius's demeanour and make him do even more dramatic gestures. Padfoot is behind them, running between the sand and the water whenever he feels like it, jumping away when the waves seem to get too close to him but returning when the tide pulls away, carefree and happy. 

Something warm blooms in James’ chest.

He gets like this, sometimes. They’re his best friends for god’s sake, he has every right to be ridiculously proud of them, of how far they’ve come, still cradling their love between their hands like when they were younger.

James can see it clear as day in the way Sirius holds Remus’ hand, slowly kissing his knuckles before letting it go, and heading over to Hope who’s reading a book in a hammock, Padfoot in tow. Remus looks after him, eyes full of blatant adoration, smiling that secret smile of his when he thinks no one is watching. 

After a moment he turns around and goes to where Lyall and Teddy are shrieking in unison whenever the water gets to them. James can’t quite make out what they’re saying but it becomes obvious when Remus squats in front of them holding his arms out for Teddy, that he’s ready to take him out and dry him off.  

Teddy’s having none of it.

He turns away from his father, trying to hide in his grandad’s neck. Remus is also having none of it as he tries to coax Teddy away. However, as almost any two-and-a-half-year-old would do, when Remus tries to pick him up, his son goes boneless against him. 

James tries to smother his laugh from where he’s watching the whole scene unfold. Boy does he knows the ways of tiny humans. After some unsuccessful tries, Remus gives up and lets his son stay with his grandpa a little longer. Lyall nods dutifully but as soon as Remus walks away, a mischievous grin appears on his face matching the one on his grandson’s. 

They look so happy to be with each other.

On James' left, a competition is taking place. 

Pandora and Lily are competing against each other to demonstrate who’s the superior castle builder. 

James doesn’t know about the process or the inconveniences behind building sand castles but what he’s sure about, is that they’re both very competitive, always going above and beyond. You just had to take a look at their castles. Pandora and Lily would do anything to show off their talent. Especially if they’re trying to impress their four-year-old daughter. 

Luna is having the time of her life, that much is clear. 

She’s running around between their sand castles wearing a braided crown made of dry palm (Dorcas doing, most likely) with Peter who’s behind her whispering things in her ear that she later screams at her mothers. Switching between cheering and shouting and “Ma! Mommy’s tower is almost done! You need to hurry! And “Mommy, Ma has a pool inside her castle, you’re going to lose!”

“A pool, Lily? Really?” Pandora asks, with an eyebrow raised, looking at her wife above her castle. 

Lily smiles smugly. “Feeling threatened, Lovegood?” 

“You wish, Evans,” Pandora says and as an afterthought, she adds, “you’re a Lovegood too, you know. ”

“And you’re an Evans,” Lily says, shrugging. 

“We’ll see about that,” then she turns to the sea, shouting “Barty, I need more water!” 

“You got it, gorgeous!” Barty shouts already recollecting the seawater with Luna’s small dinosaur bucket. 

Lily, not wanting to be outdone, yells too. “Rosier! Why are you taking so long? It’s just water!” 

“Try to carry two gallons of water in cup-size buckets, Evans!” He complains, the buckets swinging wildly as walks faster. 

“Chop, chop, Rosier, those castles are not going to build themselves!” Peter pesters him and Evan looks two seconds away from throwing one bucket of water at him.

“Bite me, Pettigrew,” he hisses, dropping the seawater in the dry sand for Lily to mould another tower. 

“Put your money where your mouth is and I might Evan, don’t think I wouldn’t,” Peter winks at him and James suspects the red on Evan’s cheeks is not because of the sun. 

“That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about! What, am I invisible or something?” Barty chastises from where he’s helping Pandora dig a hole in the sand to fill with water. 

“That was for you too, Crouch, unless you two don’t come as a package? a pity, then,” Peter shrugs ignoring Barty’s poor attempts to say anything back. 

James doesn’t know how Peter does it but somehow, he found a way to fluster the most shameless bastards there is every time he opens his mouth. 

Evan and Barty were the ones always making that kind of comment until one day Peter got fed up and start teasing them back. He’s been doing it for so long James doesn’t know if it’s still all for shits and giggles or if he actually means it. He doesn’t think Peter knows either. 

Lily groans from behind her castle.

“Knock it off, you three, my daughter is right there.”

Luna is, however, unaware of this whole interaction. 

She proves it as she shouts, “you only got 10 seconds!” and then proceeds to hold her hands in front of her, fingers spread and slowly making the count down, “ten, nine, eight…” putting down a finger at a time. 

Everyone hurry up, throwing sand and water here and there as well as some sea shells. Those 10 seconds turn out to be thirty before Luna puts the last finger down as she jumps wildly, shouting, “Hands up! hands up! time is over!” 

All hands are up in the air and Luna stands between the constructions, looking at every nook and cranny. 

James is utterly fascinated by how much he can see her mothers in Luna. How she furrows her eyebrows the way Lily does when she’s concentrating, or how she pouts slightly like she’s trying to make something out, much like Pandora does when solving a mystery game. 

It fascinates him how much of yourself it's ingrained in the people around you, how evident the mark you leave in the lives of the people you love.

“Okay, it’s done! Please stand here so I can tell you,” Luna says, all business. Pandora and Lily stand in front of her, the castles at their sides. Luna takes a moment to look at them, then she takes off her crown, holding it between her small fingers and clears her throat.

“The winner of the best castle in the whoooole world is…” 

“The whole world, she said? I didn’t know it was that serious,” Pandora says, mildly panicked.

“I knew I should’ve made that dungeon when I still had the chance,” Lily's fingers twitch like she might want to grab the nearest plastic shovel and start digging.

Luna stretches the moment as long as she can while she looks between her mothers, a glint in her eyes. She grins as she announces gleefully, “You two win!”

“Wait, what? you can’t do that! there’s only one winner,” Lily burst out.

“That seems sneaky of you, there’s only one crown, Luna, are you trying not to hurt our feelings?” Pandora narrows her eyes at her daughter, knowingly. 

Luna shrugs but the smile doesn't disappear off her face. “You two win, you can share the crown,” she holds the crown for them to take. “You’re the best mommies and sand castle makers in the whole world!” she cheers as the guys holler and clap from behind.

Pandora and Lily don't say anything. After a beat, they look at each other in unison, and then at their daughter in awe, wobbly smiles on their faces. 

“Is that so? well, I guess the winners deserve a swim in the ocean, don’t you think fellow winner?” Lily blinks rapidly, holding the crown over Pandora’s head. 

Pandora sniffs in agreement. “We do, actually. But we’re going to need something that floats since I can’t swim very well.”

Lily hums. “What about a tiny human, does that work?” Lily acts like she’s looking for something, her eyes landing on her daughter who’s bouncing on her feet, a huge grin on her face. “What about this one?”

Luna giggles. Pandora regards her and says, “yes, she works too,” and goes for her. Luna shrieks and laughs trying to run but her mothers are cramming her in their arms, dragging her towards the water.  Evan, Barty and Peter go behind them, screaming at Luna like they’re going to save her. 

Dorcas and Marlene who were making out further away in the ocean, turn around when they see the commotion. Marlene gets there first and scoops Luna up, holding her up when the tide pulls. Luna is shouting and giggling in her arms and shouts at her aunt Dorcas when she sees her coming and Auntie Dorcas look! I’m a floatie! and are you, now? I guess I’m going to borrow you, them and then she does so while Marlene makes a scene of drowning without Luna while the sound of their laughs echoes in the waves around them. 

James thinks that’s one of the best sounds in the world.

And of course, there’s what’s in front of James. 

Effie and Monty are holding sweet six-year-old Harry between them. Harry looks scared but at the same time, there’s an undercut of pure bravery in the way he’s holding his ground. Harry is wearing Lightning McQueen floaties on his arms and a red swimsuit, even if he doesn’t swim very much. 

Well no, he does, but never in the ocean. 

James suggested to him that he might want to stick to the pool for a little longer but Harry has gotten in his head that the ocean is just a bigger pool and if he’s learning how to swim. he’s going to learn how to swim everywhere, not just in small pools. And well, Harry really is stubborn when he wants to be.

So that’s how Harry ended up between his grandparents, holding onto them for dear life clearly terrified but being so brave about it. 

They’re closer to where James is so he can hear them clearly as Monty holds Harry by the arm and says, “Usted puede mijo, cuando la ola venga, le salta, okay? to which Harry nods and get’s ready to jump whenever the wave crashes into him. Luckily, the ocean is calm today, and the waves are not that big or harsh.

The tide has been gentle so far but James knows the way the ocean works so he’s keeping an eye on it, just to be sure.

When the wave comes, Harry jumps. He stumbles a little, as his small body moves with the wave, his head remaining over the salty water. They do another five times and with each round, Harry seems to loosen up, getting more confident. A little too much as he lets go of his grandparent's arms when a big wave came. He goes under and James is running towards him before he notices what’s going on. 

When he gets there, Effie and Monty are holding him up away from the water while Harry is spluttering water taking big breaths. 

“¡Harry! ¡Harry! ¿Estás bien? ¿Te duele algo?” James frets, looking for an injury in his son’s small body. 

Harry shakes his head, “Estoy bien pa, solo tengo la boca salada ¡puagh!” and he makes a face, spitting the seawater. James tries for a chuckle but fails miserably.

He wants to take him away from the ocean, he wants to never feel this fear again, and he wants to scold him for being reckless and making his poor father's heart go through that. James doesn’t say any of this but instead, “¿quieres que me quede?” giving Harry a choice. 

But Harry shakes his head, holding Effie’s arms tighter.

“No, estoy bien, mis abues me cuidan, ¿verdad que sí?” Harry looks up at his grandparents and Monty nods while Effie squeezes his hand, turning to look at James. 

“Ve a sentarte mijo, we got it,” and they turn around, going for the sea again.

James watches them go.

When he sits again, he runs his fingers through his hair, heaving a big breath, trying to calm his rabbiting chest. Sometimes this is what means to be a parent, constantly worrying about the well-being of your kids. But James has also learned not to hold on too tight, to make Harry feel capable of anything, giving him the confidence to explore his possibilities. 

And Harry is safe and happy and that's what matters the most to James. He’s been so brave trying again that James kind of wishes Regulus could’ve seen what happened. 

“He’s better than me, I would’ve drowned,” a familiar voice says from behind.

James turns around, his upper body unconsciously leaning towards the figure who’s walking towards him, like a tide pulling the strings of his heart. James grins, as they come to his side. He holds his arms to him and his baby goes willingly. He holds her on his lap, embracing her so she won’t fall.

“I don’t believe that you would, you’re too stubborn to die,” he gives Regulus a quick peck on the cheek when he sits down near him in the sand. “You would’ve defeated the water, somehow, out of spite most likely.”

Regulus arches a brow at him, “Would I, now? You know something I don’t, Mr Black-Potter?”

“I do, actually, Mr Potter-Black,” James retorts, smiling at his husband, “I know you.”

Regulus scoffs, rolling his eyes but the flush of his cheeks is hard to miss. His gaze travels to where Harry is, still with his grandparents, playing with the waves and swimming away as Monty acts like a shark who’s about to catch him. 

“He’s so brave,” Regulus observes, absently playing with one of the plastic shovels Lily throws earlier when she was making the sand castles. 

“The bravest,” James nods in agreement, “just like his father”

Regulus hums noncommittally. 

“Do you want to go with him?”

“In a minute” he eventually says, digging at the sand around James. 

James lets that be as it may. 

“What took you so long?” 

“Turns out emergency level one was actually emergency level two,” Regulus says and Helena giggles in James’ arms like she knows they’re talking about her. “A big one.”

“That can’t be true, you wouldn’t do that to your poor papa, would you mi amor?” James coos at his daughter and Helena makes grabby hands at Regulus. 

“papapapapa,” she bables and Regulus’ gaze soften at her. 

Sometimes, James can’t believe his luck. He’s there, with his whole family in close proximity, and he can’t help but think how he comes to be this way. These kinds of moments are the ones James holds onto it the most, keeping them in his pocket and carrying them around wherever he goes. He’s a family man and a romantic, sue him.

“I was thinking,” James begins.

“Oh boy,” 

“No, this is good, I promise,” he says and then, “What if we spend Christmas in Chile?” 

Regulus stops digging at the sand at his feet and looks at him. “What?”

“Yes! Think about it,” he sits Helena on the sand in between his legs, still holding her. “Look, I know you don’t fancy air flights but Teddy’s birthday is around that time and my dad is secretly talking with Lyall, making plans no doubt and my mom is looking for air flights when he thinks no one’s looking and, don’t you want to spend Christmas with Sirius? he’s been talking about it for ages,” and that’s not a lie, Sirius has been talking about it for a long time, he says it’s James’ turn to visit them.

Regulus doesn’t say anything for a long time, just keeps digging. James doesn’t force him, he knows he needs a moment to think about it. Helena plays with the sand and James keeps looking out for Harry. 

After a moment, Regulus speaks again.

“What I’m hearing is that you want to spend eight hours, give or take, in a closed space with two kids under the age of six just so my idiot of a brother stops bitchin' about it?”

“And for the wine, don’t forget the Chilean wine”

“Yeah, how else we’re going to survive Sirius’ never-ending babbling?” Regulus rolls his eyes, covering James’ feet with the sand around them. 

“Be nice, amor,” but Regulus waves his hand dismissively.

“What am I getting in return?”

James scratches the back of his head. “Lots of kisses?” 

Regulus makes a ‘fair enough’ gesture as he says, “okay.”

“Really?” 

“No. I want one month free of changing diapers duty and you’re going to take Harry to soccer from now on,” he finishes, patting the sand around James’ buried knees. 

James, bless him, is too baffled to concentrate on anything else other than Regulus at the moment. 

“What?”

His husband arches a brow at him. “Do you want this or not?”

And well, James really wants it. He tries not to think too much about it. 

“Deal” and they shook on it. 

Regulus nods standing up. He holds Helena up for James to take again. 

He then leans down to kiss James slowly and James melts a little, he always has that power over him, even with the smallest of kisses.  Regulus hums when they break apart, James going forward trying to catch his lips again but his husband takes a step back. 

“I would’ve done it for two months, you know,” James admits in the haze of their kiss and Regulus' eyes are full of mirth.

“I would’ve agreed regardless. I already made plans with Remus. You doing this is just a plus.” and oh, how much James loves this sneaky human being.

“You…” he tries to stand up going for him but he can’t move, he’s stuck. He looks at his feet and sees that Regulus wasn’t only digging the sand around but actually burying his legs in the sand.

Regulus smirks.

“Hey! You buried my feet in the sand!” James shouts, “just wait until I get my hands on you,” he hisses trying to break free. 

“You will have to catch me first,” Regulus teases as he turns around and runs towards the sea, where the other part of his soul is. Harry's smile widens when he sees his papa approaching. 

“Regulus! come back here!” but Regulus ignores him as he holds Harry up and tosses him up in the sky, Harry giggling in Regulus’ arms just as much Helena does in James’. 

Birds take flight, an array of seagulls and pelicans dancing in the bright blue sky. The waves continue to break in the distance, the foam licks the sand where it touches. It all feels vast and real, like the endless sea in front of him. A reverie from which James never wishes to awaken.

Luckily for him, he will never have to. 

Yes, sunny days are the best kinds of days.

[nitannichionne]

Superman: The Rise of Isis (Henry Cavill Superman Fanfic), Chapter 9: Sect of Sethos

Chapter 9: Sect of Sethos

NAPANA POV

I watched the television accounts with mounting rage.

Isis alive? And our Sethos is not?

I looked over at the unmarked sarcophagus which was found in a shaft near Amenhotep III, though he was buried later. Those archaeologists would have found out if we hadn't stolen everything and killed a few people. It was fate that we found it-that they did. We'd not had the body for a year.

"How can we bring him back?"

I stirred from my thoughts to see Ahote, standing and staring at the sarcophagus.

"Work is being done as we speak," I told him. "As soon as Isis made her appearance, I sent Powaqa to the revival site." He smiled. "We have potential allies already on their way to meet with us."

"Who?"

"Terrorists, of course."

Ahote frowns. "Terrorists?"

"From Syria?"

Ahote's face lit with understanding. "Ah."

"I told them they would come to us one day, needing our help," I nodded. "After the goddess attacked them for their name, I knew it was a matter of time."

"So what are we doing?"

"We will meet the Syrians at the temple."

"Mount Catherine?"

"No," I shrugged. "We are going to the temple." I took a deep breath and leveled my gaze at the young man before me. "We can summon the heavens to strike Sethos alive."

"What?"

"That is the plan," I told him. "Syrians are bringing the life water, and we have the ritual to perform."

It took many men to move the stone sarcophagus, but we had enough. Many were tired of Isis coming back from the dead and trying to tell us what to do, and who to be! And why didn't Chinzara tell me? I thought, even though we did not protect the same deity, he would tell if we could bring back any of the days of old.

But no matter. I found out, and did what I must.

When the moon rose, my men and I began our journey to the Valley of Kings with Seth. The temple awaited in silence in the night as we prayed to all who could hear that we needed help to complete the mission. We knew of pharaohs and kings who worshiped Set if only to keep chaos and destruction at bay, calling to their graves to raise their voices to allow Seth to rise again.

When we arrived we praised the night. We walked through the temple entrance, feeling small as we walked man made canyon walls that presented only the sky as a nightlight. We gravitated toward the moon steadily as though we could catch it. Carrying Sethos, we believed we could.

We could see the others up ahead. They looked anxious as the skies thundered above us but did not yield a drop of rain.

"Pahana! Ahote!" I called. They nodded and headed the movement of the sarcophagus to the altar. They leveraged it with strong leather pulleys and lifted it onto it. From the shadows came a group of men, one leading four guarding a dozen men with huge jugs "You have it?"

A dozen men each held large jugs looking at us. One stepped forward, partially removing his head garment. "Yes. I see you have come through as promised."

I gave a small smile and looked to the heavens. "Shall we start?"

We hurried to an altar and lifted the sarcophagus onto it. The men anxiously poured the water into the sarcophagus, emerging the body as I read from the Book of the Dead. I had the spell and prayer almost memorized; it was part of me. My chants grew louder as the darkness seemed to envelope the heavens. The skies became starless. Even the moon seemed to dim in retreat watching what was about to happen.

And my heart sang. How long had we been looking for Sethos? How long had we been separated from him who brought us victory thousands of years ago, even though it was short lived? It was genius for them to hide him in an unmarked shaft grave in the Valley of Kings. And yet, as if fate had deemed it so, we found him, and Isis was even alive, no less!

"O you sycomore of the sky," I prayed loudly to the heavens. "may there be given to him the air which is in it, for it is he who sought out that throne in the midst of Wenu [Hermopolis]. I have guarded this egg of the Great Cackler. If it grows, he grows; if it lives, he live: if it breathes air, he breathes air."

The lightning began to blink in the sky, a sign that once again, this was meant to be.

"Oh you sole one who shine in the moon, O you sole one who glow in the sun, may Sethos go forth from those multitudes of yours who are outside, mahy those who are in the sunshine release him, may the Netherworld be open to him when Sethos goes out into the day in order to do what he wishes to do on earth among the living!"

Everyone backed away from the altar as the lightning seemed to be closer than ever. I kept changing and then lightning struck. We were all thrown back by the power.

Then, someone sat up!

Others retreated in fear, but I slowly crawled to altar.

It was him! It was Sethos!

He looked about tiredly and then down at me. "Servant."

I bowed deeply. I was already on my knees.

"How long has it been, loyal one?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Too long my lord, too long."

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomnimaniac @jencanbeyouryengeralt @sweetdreamsofgelato @mary-ann84 @omgkatinka @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae @henryobsessed @summersong69 @sunshine96love @michelehansel @thelastsock @tumblnewby @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocks @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @kaatelyynn-blog-blog@forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic @tamychm @nikkilynn303 @circesgirl1 @xoxohannahlee @pixie88@fckdeusername @maan24 @kaatelyyynn​ @october505​ @absentmindr​ @introvertedmouse​ @sassy-pelican @griscka75 @kebabgirl67 @its-carlerr @cherry-piee

[incorporealbagelbeing]

So like. Complied from myself and every theory I've read, I feel like there's a lot to cover in the simulation theory

Only certain members of the crew are present. Given everything I've seen, I believe that everyone EXCEPT Juno and Peter are in this. Will cover the other characters in other points, but I believe only Juno and Peter are not in the simulation because Dark Matters would assume that each person would have their own goals with repairs, but didnt know what Juno and Peter would do. I think they knew that Jet would do most repairs with some help from Buddy and Vespa, and would focus on the Ruby7 (more later). Buddy would be trying to help fix the ship, would be trying to keep the team together and functioning (mistrust due to Shadows on the Ship), and would be planning, analysing, strategizing. Vespa would again help with general repairs and the medical bay, and they would know just enough to figure that she's going to be trying to come to terms with all the stressors in her environment, including mild inconsistencies. Rita would be trying to save systems and computers and food. All this to say, Juno and Peter are the only two controlled because sure, we could say "Peter would be stuck with a broken leg" but they dont know if he would be busy or realize that they were in a simulation. Also, Juno's a detective and has had run-ins with Dark Matters tech, he would know what was up.

The Ruby7 is off. That's a given. The question is: do our characters not know things about Ruby, are our characters actually puppets created by Dark Matters, or is Dark Matters trying to work out how the Ruby7 works as a highly competent vehicle that has otherworldly capabilities, such as a self-driven rescue mission, creation of bombs, the Pelican Bootleg, memorization of M'Tendere's key? I think its the last one. They would have to manipulate people into dropping information to learn.

I think that Rita is ignoring red flags (or! Appears to be! She's smart most of the time! She knows Juno!) Or is messing up colossally (@ernmark posted this, and like, I really see them doing all of this) but I choose to believe that Rita would ignore more dramaticized or odd things like the unknown force pulling them out of the water because it fits with the streams, but I think she realized something was up when Juno came on the scene. This can again be one of two things, with option one being that she noticed his newfound acceptace of computers and has been quietly sabotaging her own plan, leading Dark Matters on, or she outright didnt trust him from the start and came to Nureyev first because she assumed he was trustworthy and she's gonna try to take them down somewhere along the way to make sure she isn't being tailed/ find a way to hack the simulation from inside.

I also think that Nureyev's depression instrument wont be brought up again or will be a pivotal piece, as it all depends on if he plays instruments outside of simulation. If he plays outside of the simulation, I'm betting that he feels useless and not trusted, which is something he tends to put stock into. Therefore, he makes himself useful by learning M'Tendere's key. And Rita is upset by the whole Tools of Rust episode, and her hearing the melancholy music is close to the definition of "depression instrument". If the case, I hope to God he doesnt know the tune yet. Dark Matters knowing the key is bound to be bad. If he doesnt play in real life, I'm willing to bet that Simulation Peter is a way of finding out the key. They didnt know MTendere or their key. This could be a convinient way to learn it.

I'm actually highkey worried about Juno. Reasoning? We didnt hear from him during Tools of Rust. There was a suspicious note along the lines of "well, hope he's ok...oh nvmd" which makes me wonder: is there a chance that Juno hasnt been himself in several episodes? I hate to say it, but what if he s been manipulated by Dark Matters for a while now as a spy? Just saying... But either way, I feel like hes acting weird and Rita's known him long enough to be suspicious. Also this could be me overanalyzing

Buddy knows something is wrong. Shes been to dark places, and she knows every member of the crew. There's a reason she's worried about just getting the ship back in the sky, and its because she's seeing all of the inconsistencies. She knows that Jet knows as much as he can about Ruby, she knows Juno isnt Like This, and she's probably suspicious of the smooth landing. I bet Buddy has more in mind than she lets on, and she's treading incredibly carefully.

Juno and Peter may have also been created to guide Rita in her mission as well. They both support her plan and dont really point out anything that could sabotage the plan (like the fact that Dark Matters owned the tech beforehand? ) and they near unconditionally accepted everything she was doing (which I'm hoping gave Rita the final clues she needed to realize that they're trapped in a simulation. Juno would bring up AT LEAST a few points) and they didn't even try to tell other crew members about their findings. All of this seems shadily like Juno and Peter are cardboard cutouts of themselves created to further the next plot. Hell, we can even add in distractions that would mean that Jet, Buddy, and Vespa were unavaliable.

The whole "oh Morpheus facility...how original" line indicates that its a construct of the game. This is tbh one of the bigger and better clues, not even just for the name. I think that it indicates either that 1. The Morpheus Facility is the real name, or 2. Its a made up mission to assess Rita's skill.

Also as a bonus I doubt that the Sasha Wire we know is involved with this. Sasha has seen corruption in the Hyperion police force and left because of it. Either she's gonna be a cool double agent and is gonna break the whole crew out and help them take down Dark Matters (here's how Rita/Sasha can still win!), or shes been THEIAed or something similar. Either way, I want her to be mentioned or have a reappearance, and I think shes gonna get one.

[affirmation--negation]

One hugely notorious thing that happened in the California system in particular in the late 1970s, that may or may not have happened in other systems, is that the Department of Corrections, was experimenting with ways to keep prisoners from developing solidarity with each other and against the guards. In the early 1970s, California prisoners had notoriously declared "Every time a guard kills one of us, we're going to kill one of them until they stop killing us." And there were seven incidents over some years. A guard killed a prisoner, prisoners killed a guard. Not necessarily the guard who killed the prisoner, but somebody died because somebody died. So the department, right before its big expansion began, was trying to figure out what to do. And it came up, not surprisingly, with a solution that was designed to foster inter-prisoner distrust. The managers declared that certain categories of prisoners belonged to certain ethnic or regional gangs, and then fomented discord between the gangs. In a time when desegregation was becoming the law of the land, the Department of Corrections started segregating people in prisons according to the gangs and then to racial and ethnic groups. This is all well documented, there are case files and lawsuits, and an incredible archive, still to be thoroughly read and written about. And there were countless hearings about this practice throughout the 1990s. I sat through hours of testimony, in which the Department insisted, and has until this day: "No, we were just responding to what objectively existed." Whereas others who testified, including former prison wardens, said: "No, this didn't exist: you made it. You created it."

What the Department “created” led to development of something called the Security Housing Unit (SHU), which is effectively a prison within the prison. The first one in California opened in 1988 and the second in 1989. In the latter, called Pelican Bay State Prison, people in the SHU had staged several hunger strikes beginning in 2013. And some of the people in that unit, segregated according to their alleged gang affiliation, some of whom had been in that prison within the prison for more than twenty years, had accepted and projected the rigid ethnic, racial, and regional differences as meaningful and immutably real. But as they were trying, as individuals, to sort out a way for them to get out of the prison in the prison and go back to the general prison population, they became increasingly aware of what had happened historically, a dire reform of which they were the current expression. And so in recent years, these people in four “gangs” eventually declared that the only way to solve the problem inside was, to use their word, to end the hostility between the races. Which is an astonishing thing. I've been inside a lot of prisons, including Pelican Bay. And the transformation of consciousness from what I learned from interviewing people in prisons for men about their conditions of confinement in the early 2000s compared with the organising and analysis that emerged in the last five or so years is astonishing. Ruth Wilson Gilmore

[sdvvillagers]

First official post from this blog, you KNOW it has to be about my muse Robin.  Threw together a ficlet of Robin and Demetrius meeting for the first time.  Enjoy!

~*~*~*~

It had been an incredibly long day for Robin.  It was one of those days where every inch of her body ached with exhaustion and all she could think to do was either collapse into bed or drink her troubles away at the saloon.  The prospect of returning home and having to resume the responsibilities of motherhood sounded too daunting to face, so she chose the latter.

When she entered the saloon, she was not at all surprised to find it mostly deserted.  The only people inside were Gus, the bartender; Willy, the local fisherman; and Lewis, the town handyman who was deep in conversation with Mayor Maynard (Robin absolutely could not address that man without bursting into a fit of giggles at his ridiculous name).  She took a seat at a secluded barstool and heaved a weary sigh.

"Long day?" Gus asked with a concerned expression as he approached the counter.

"Incredibly," Robin answered with another sigh.  "I just need a beer."

"You got it," Gus replied with a nod, instantly grabbing an empty beer stein to fill for Robin.

As Robin rested her head on the countertop of the bar, she could hear the door to the saloon open once more.  She didn't bother to look up to see who had entered, it hardly mattered to her at the moment as long as they left her alone.  Robin cringed as she heard the barstool next to her slide across the floor, whoever this was had chosen to take a seat next to her and she was in no mood for socialization.  When she lifted her head to tell them off, she was surprised to see someone whom she had never met before.  Robin was still relatively new to Pelican Town herself, but was sure that she had met everybody in town but this man did not look familiar to her in the least.

"You look like you could use some company," the man said pleasantly as he took a seat next to her.

"I was going for 'I just want to be left alone', but if you insist on sitting next to me anyway, I won't stop you," Robin said rather rudely.  She hadn't meant to snap at the poor man, but she couldn't help the foul mood that she was in.  However, her sour disposition didn't seem to affect this man who still had a big smile on his face.

"Demetrius Bennett," he said pleasantly, holding out his hand.

"Robin Finley," Robin said, taking Demetrius' hand in a handshake.  She had expected a firm handshake from such a tall man with large hands like these, but his handshake was surprisingly tender and delicate.

"Robin Finley," he repeated to himself.  "They say that if you repeat a name immediately after learning it, you're more inclined to remember it.  I've got a lot of names to learn, so I'm trying my best to remember them."

"You new here?" Robin asked conversationally.  If the man was going to insist on keeping her company, she may as well attempt to be cordial.  This attempt was made even easier as Gus set her full beer stein directly in front of her.

"Sort of," Demetrius answered with an uncertain shrug.  “I’ll be visiting Pelican Town every weekend for the foreseeable future.”  Before Robin could question what he meant, Gus turned his attention to Demetrius.

"What'll it be, stranger?" Gus asked jovially.

"I'll just take a water, please," Demetrius said kindly.  Robin let out an unintentional snort of laughter.

"You came into the saloon tonight for a water?" Robin asked, stifling another laugh.

"I didn't intend on staying, I just wanted to poke my head in to meet a few of the locals, but you looked so downtrodden that I wanted to at least see if there was something I could do to lift your spirits," Demetrius explained.

"It'll take a lot more than polite conversation to accomplish that," Robin said darkly.  "But I admire your optimism nonetheless."

For a moment, Robin sipped quietly at her beer as Gus brought Demetrius his glass of water.  As the beer began to relax her, she felt bad that this kind man had made an effort to make conversation with her, she may as well at least attempt to play nice.

"So, what brings you to Pelican Town?" Robin asked awkwardly, taking another sip from her beer.

"I’m here as part of my internship with ZC Labs," Demetrius commented.

“ZC Labs?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They’re a research facility based out of Zuzu City,” Demetrius explained.

"What kind of work do you do for them?" Robin asked curiously.  Here in the valley she was used to jobs such as 'farming', 'mining', 'fishing', and the like.  Certainly nothing that involved research of any kind.

"I'm an aspiring scientist," Demetrius answered proudly.  “ZC Labs pays for my college tuition and in return, they’ve stationed me out here in the valley to collect specimens.  It’s an exhausting schedule, I spend Monday thru Friday in Zuzu City for a full course load of classes at ZCU, then I head up to the valley on weekends for my internship work.”

"Why did they station you HERE of all places?!" Robin asked, completely baffled.  She couldn't think of anything at all scientific about Pelican Town and felt bad that this poor man seemed to have drawn the short straw for his internship.

"This area holds an abundance of plant life and wildlife that is relatively unstudied," Demetrius began excitedly.  "The indigenous flowers, plants, and fungi that grow here are full of potential and it's my job to collect samples and send them back to the main research lab in the city.  Once I complete my internship, if they find that there's enough here for further study, I may even get funding for my own laboratory!  I mean, that’s a long ways off, but that’s certainly the dream!"

"So what are you, some kind of nerd?" Robin asked with a chuckle.  Immediately she felt her stomach clench, she hadn't meant to be so rude with him but she couldn't help herself.  Robin was never the best with first impressions.

"If being fascinated by the vibrant and diverse ecosystem in Stardew Valley is nerdy, then I suppose I am," Demetrius responded with an amused smile.

Robin simply chuckled as she took another swig from her beer.  This man was proving to be quite a fascinating individual.

"What do YOU do?" Demetrius asked, tilting his head curiously.

"Well, I'm sort of a mixed bag at the moment," Robin answered awkwardly.  "My main job title is 'Mom', but I'm also a carpenter whenever I can get the work, which isn’t often at the moment.  I'm in the middle of building my dream home up in the mountains but it's been slow going.  I can't turn down the occasional odd job around town plus having an infant at my hip makes it hard."

"Oh!  You have a little one!" Demetrius said in surprise.  Robin sighed, already she regretted bringing up Sebastian.  This was usually the part of the conversation where men got up and walked away as quickly as their two feet could carry them.  She winced as Demetrius shifted in his chair, but was surprised when he didn't get up to leave.

"What's your little one's name, if you don't mind my asking?" Demetrius asked politely.  Robin could have sworn that he seemed legitimately interested in talking to her.

"Sebby," Robin answered, though she quickly flinched at her usage of the nickname she had given him.  "I mean Sebastian."

"Not a very common name," Demetrius commented thoughtfully.

"And 'Demetrius' is?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I like uncommon names," Demetrius went on.  "I think they give character.  Sebastian is a very noble sounding name."

"Well he's a little tyrant at the moment," Robin said with a sigh.  "I feel bad dumping him on Caroline at the moment, but I just needed a break from... everything."

"Who's Caroline?" Demetrius asked curiously.  Robin had to remind herself that Demetrius was still brand new and didn't really know anyone.

"She's married to Pierre, the owner of the general store," Robin answered.  "I'm crashing in their spare bedroom until my house is built.  During the day while I'm working, Caroline has been kind enough to watch my son for me.  I don't know how I could have done all of this without her."

"All of what?" Demetrius asked.

"Being a single mom, AND managing a brand new business, AND trying to build myself and my son a home," Robin said wearily, taking another swig from her beer stein.  She felt bad for unloading onto this complete and utter stranger, but it was odd how easy he was to talk to.  She didn't get the usual judgmental stares or pitying looks that typically accompanied her revelation that she was a single working mother.

"That certainly is an impressive feat," Demetrius said with a low, impressed whistle.

"It's exhausting," Robin said shakily, resting her head in her hands.

The exhaustion from even talking about the current state of her life letalone actually living it was taking its toll on Robin and, without meaning to, she could feel tears start to well up in the corners of her eyes.  The exhaustion and stress was starting to make her break but she was damn well not going to fall apart in front of this perfect stranger.  Robin took a deep breath and tried her best to sniff back the tears that had formed in her eyes as she tried to keep the impending mental breakdown at bay.  However, Demetrius immediately noticed her shaky breathing and the trail of tears that trickled down her cheek.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Demetrius said soothingly, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.  "Just let it out, it's okay."

"This can't be happening right now," Robin said to herself, still trying desperately hard to control the wave of sobs that was fighting to escape her.

"It's okay, I'm here," Demetrius said calmly.

"I don't even KNOW you," Robin said wearily, her shoulders shaking even more as she fought to control herself. 

"Does that matter?" Demetrius asked with a friendly smile.  "We don't have to know someone to empathize with them.  If you need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to talk at, or even just an unsuspecting fool to unload on, I'm your man."

At these words, Robin immediately burst into tears, unable to hold it off any longer.  Every eye in the saloon turned to her and Demetrius, but she hardly cared at the moment.  The combination of her stress and exhaustion combined with the sudden, overwhelming kindness that Demetrius had shown her was enough to unleash a wave of sobs the likes of which Robin had never experienced before.  She was thankful that all Demetrius did was sit there silently, his arm still draped around her shoulders as he awkwardly sat at his barstool to allow her to cry.  It was a fair few minutes before Robin was able to settle down and by the time she did, she could tell that she must look like a complete and utter mess.

“I’m so sorry, you must think I’m an absolute crazy person,” Robin uttered through her sniffles.

“I’d be crazy too if I was going through what you’re going through,” Demetrius said compassionately.  He still hadn’t removed his arm from around her shoulders, but it was oddly comforting to feel his presence.

"Where are you staying while you’re in town?” Robin asked, still sniffing back a few rogue tears as she wiped her face on her sleeve.  She was desperate to change the subject to something, anything, that would draw attention away from her breakdown.

“Out at the ranch in Cindersnap Forest,” Demetrius answered.  “Marnie has been kind enough to offer up her spare bedroom when I’m in town so that I can stay close to the forest.  A decent amount of my work will take place there, so it works out well.”

“That’s really nice of her,” Robin commented, the last of her tears finally starting to subdue.

“Yeah, everyone here has been so nice,” Demetrius commented with a smile.

“Until you met me, that is,” Robin replied, chuckling darkly.

An awkward silence passed between them as Robin looked away uncomfortably.  She was mortified by her outburst and felt terrible that poor Demetrius had to watch her go through that.  If he was smart, and he seemed to be, he would no doubt be keeping his distance from her in the future.  When Robin could no longer stand the silence that was passing between them, she picked up her beer stein and chugged the remaining contents of it.  Once empty, she slammed the beer stein onto the counter and grabbed a handful of money from her pocket as she rose from her seat.

“Hey, I’ll grab it,” Demetrius said kindly, holding out a hand to stop her.

“No way, I ruined your night enough, I’m not making you pay for my drink,” Robin said, shaking her head vehemently.

“I’d like to,” Demetrius said kindly.  “If it’ll make your night even the tiniest bit better, I’m happy to do it.”

“What’s your deal?” Robin asked suddenly.  She hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but she couldn’t help it.  This man was a complete mystery to her.  However, Demetrius truly didn’t seem to mind her straightforward, often brash personality.

“I dunno, I guess I just see somebody who could really use some help and I’m gonna do the best I can to provide it,” Demetrius said with a shrug.  “There’s not much I CAN do, but every little bit helps.  If all it takes from me is a handful of money to make your difficult day a little easier, that’s a small price to pay.”

“You’re… you’re something, you know that?” Robin asked, staring at Demetrius with a bewildered expression.  She had never met anyone quite like him before.

Demetrius simply shrugged awkwardly, looking the tiniest bit embarrassed.

“I’ll see you around, Demetrius Bennett,” Robin said with a friendly smile.

“See you around, Robin Finley,” Demetrius said with a small wave toward Robin as she exited the saloon.

As Robin crossed the town square toward Pierre and Caroline’s, she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about the man she had just met.  It was almost certain that after today, she would probably never see him again, but a small part of her hoped in the back of her mind that she could see him at least one more time in the hopes that she could make a better impression the second time around.

[stevetervet]

The wow that’s happening now

Children’s television is full of inanities, as every parent reading this will know. For example, who else questioned Madame Gazelle’s qualifications as an early years teacher after she decided the best way to introduce Peppa Pig’s French friend Delphine Donkey to the English language was a rendition of ‘bong-bing-boo, bing-bong-bing, bing-bong-bingly-bongly-boo’? I dread to think what Ofsted would make of such garbage.

But, hidden far beneath the surface, there lurk pearls of wisdom.

The star of Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood is often reminded to “enjoy the wow that’s happening now” and while we in turn sing it back to Ivy when the situation demands, it’s a mantra that applies just as much to us adults, too.

It’s in our nature, mine certainly, to want to plan ahead and shape the narrative of the next year or so. That might be getting a steer on what’s happening at work, booking a holiday, working out travel plans or other, more personal, issues. And with COVID-19 having taken much of that control out of our hands in 2020, a year which for many of us can’t end soon enough, it’s even more tempting to wish the time away until we can do all those things we’ve been deprived of during this annus horribilis.

But with a nod to Daniel Tiger, there are definitely positives aplenty when you put down the binoculars and pop on the reading glasses to refocus on what’s closer at hand. For one thing, we’re fortunate here in NSW to be enjoying far greater freedom than the Victorians just down the road, while those in Melbourne have been doing it even tougher still.

Looking back a year to our arrival in Australia, I was feeling frustrated at driving down dead ends in search of jobs that weren’t there or pay for work that wasn’t forthcoming. Admittedly I am still a sports journalist unemployed in that particular sphere but taking on a new full-time role at Albury North Public School has been one of the best decisions I’ve made. Originally there one day a week to produce the school newsletter, my remit has expanded into more of a PR position with self-taught video production thrown into the mix. It’s such a vibrant environment, being around 200+ kids every day with a fantastic staff to bounce off (not literally, although football at recess can get quite involved) and a real feeling of job satisfaction and making a difference. Much like the newsroom, no two days are the same. Last term I ended up interviewing the Mayor of Albury, producing a last-minute COVID-19 pull-out, presenting the possibility of a new school uniform - complete with a student debate - and liaising with the local media. Having been on the other side of that particular fence, flagging up the story of a swimming champion in Year 6 felt fairly routine but it was a different matter when our NSW/VIC pen pal scheme hit the headlines. There was heaps of interest straight away and I spent a day co-ordinating visits from TV crews and radio reporters, with further interviews taking place throughout the week. Talk about feeling alive; it was so good to see the kids and teachers getting the platform their hard work deserves.

Another unexpected ‘wow’ was a week’s holiday in Jervis Bay, about 200km south of Sydney. We’d been due to fly interstate, like so many others, but COVID put the kibosh on that and forced a rethink. So a place we’d never thought of visiting turned out to be the most fantastic base for our few days there, with Callala Beach every bit the relaxing hideout we’d hoped for. With the sea literally a stone’s throw away from our door, we were there every day with Ivy rather happier to brave the chilly waters than her parents. One kayaking incident aside, our beach experience was terrific. Huskisson was our launching point for a whale watching cruise which delivered not only close-up encounters with the behemoth and its calf but the chance to glide alongside a school of dolphins closer to the shore, away from the huge ocean swell. You couldn’t beat Tilbury Cove, Culburra Beach for shell-collecting or sandcastle-building or Greenwell Point for fish & chips, where the pelicans behaved like seagulls waiting for the foolish tourist to throw them a morsel.

We spent a day up the coast in Kiama, where the spectacular blowhole and company of some dear friends made our crawl through the Princes Highway roadworks worthwhile. The road to Currarong, by comparison, was almost deserted, but drama of a different kind lay ahead. As we entered the tiny seaside town, plumes of black smoke from a hazard reduction burn - crucial ahead of the fire season - filled the sky and swirled through some of the back streets. “This is a stress-free area” insisted the lady serving behind the counter of the convenience store as she confidently assured us everything was under control. But not so, it turned out, as we discovered after exploring the rock pools and getting back on the road. Having traversed the 10km gravel road to and from the imposing Point Perpendicular Lighthouse, atop cliffs overlooking the spot where we had seen the whales, security personnel at the gatehouse warned us against returning to Currarong as the fire was now out of control.

For all the beauty of the coast, one of our favourite stops was inland at the Shoalhaven Zoo in Nowra. Nestled between the river and a sheer rock face, it’s uncomplicated and unpretentious but with a cracking selection of animals including a farm section for the little ‘uns. Ivy just loved patting the kangaroos. When in Rome...

Eventually it was time to leave the coast behind - for another 10 weeks, at least. Our route back took us through the mighty Kangaroo Valley, down a series of steep hairpin bends and up even more on the other side. We passed a group of cyclists next to the historic Hampden Bridge. The looming ascent must have looked to them as the Grand Colombier had to an ailing Egan Bernal in the Tour de France just days earlier.

So, one term left in this year of years as we approach the the run-in to Christmas and the powerful heat of summer. One eye on planning for next year, that’s for sure, but also accepting the challenges of today.

Watching our friend Naomi Mitchell run the race of her life to finish 14th at the London Marathon has inspired me to start running again. I’ve been out three of the last four days, further each time, and, coupled with some healthy eating, I’m starting to feel the benefits - physical and mental - already. I’m determined to keep pushing myself and get into shape. It’s not something I’ve enjoyed that much before but if Naomi can do 26.2 miles in two-and-a-half hours, I can get to 5k and beyond.

Positive change is in the air. Who knows, I might learn a new language too.

All together now...

Bong-bing-boo, bing-bong-bing, bing-bong-bingly-bongly-boo!

[ask-beacons-finest]

Spartan!Ruby, loading a magazine for her sniper rifle within the crew bay of a Pelican, fully suited in her armor: Alright, all callsigns report. Callsign Gemstone, taking charge.

Spartan!Blake, holstering one of her Magnum pistols across her chest piece, her amber visor reflecting Ruby's silver from across the Pelican: Callsign Panther, armed and ready.

Spartan!Weiss, sitting in the cockpit, her helmet off to the side, her Promethean eye split open and frantically scanning over the surrounding area: Callsign Snowfall, checking in.

Spartan!Yang, sitting in one of the crew seats in the back of the Pelican, sheathing a combat knife to the back of her waist, rolling her shoulder: Callsign Dragon, ready to roll.

Spartan!Ruby, nodding: Perfect. Penny, put the team com frequency to Beta-Seven, at the first sign of interference swap to Omega-Twelve.

AI!Penny, cheerfully: Yes ma'am!

Spartan!Ruby: Spartans, personal coms are to only use frequencies Delta-Four to Epsilon-Eleven, swapping two forward one back every three minutes. If that's too confusing for you, don't worry, your AI should take care it.

Spartan!Ruby, after getting an agreement: Blake, you'll drop approximately three and a half kilometers away from the target compound. Make the rest of the way there on foot, scout the location. We can't trust everything we were given in briefing, the eggheads at base are useless. If we can get you closer, we will. Once there, find an access point for Ozpin to infiltrate the compound's electrical system, if the info we have is right and the security runs on the same wiring we'll be all set. Have him map a floor plan and disable all turrets. Neutralize any opposition but remain stealth, once the security and floor plan are taken care of evac immediately to extraction zone.

Spartan!Blake, nodding: Understood. We'll take care of it.

Spartan!Ruby, over coms: Weiss, after Blake drops you and Winter find us somewhere hidden nearby to land and wait for her green light. Keep the engine purring, shouldn't take her long. After we take back to the skies and quickly move over the compound, understood?

Spartan!Weiss, her promethean eye flashing an excited green, flicking a switch which shuts off the lights: Understood. Approaching target zone, going dark.

Spartan!Ruby, continuing the plan: Yang, using the floor plan we will drop you directly over our targets, remember, both are to be assured they will be taken in alive, but remember that it's only true for one of them. Neutralize every other force you see, loud and lethal.

Spartan!Yang, cocking her shotgun before slinging it over her shoulder, a big grin behind her fluorescent visor, its lavender color tinting with red: That's what I like to hear.

Spartan!Ruby, when you're ready we'll drop down for extraction, and I'll take the shot on the one we're leaving behind. Make sure they take your left side, to ensure a successful kill. I don't want any mistakes. After that we pick up Blake and head back to base, from there we'll go up to Last Odyssey orbiting the planet and debrief, mission complete.

Spartan!Weiss, over the coms: Approaching drop zone, I can get you two kilos away from the target.

Spartan!Ruby, nodding, looking around her team: Alright Spartans...let's go.

[facethroughthemirror]

A Little Chest Wound Never Hurt Anyone

After the mission to capture CT's armor, a concerned Wash intrudes on Florida and Wyoming having a moment.

Characters: Agent Washington, Agent Florida, Agent Wyoming Relationships: Agent Florida/Agent Wyoming

AO3 Link

"There we are. Just need to keep the pressure on..."

Washington looks up, away from Maine, who'd either passed out or fallen asleep almost immediately after strapping in. He takes off his helmet and sets it aside, to get a better look around the pelican at his fellow freelancers. They're all tired, a few of them are injured. He's pretty sure that at least one of them is more upset than she's letting on because of the nature of the mission they just completed.

His eyes touch over South, with her head tilted back against the wall, and North and York, talking quietly with their helmets off. North's AI's little projection is sitting on his shoulder, kicking its little feet and apparently listening in on what North and York are saying. Carolina's up front with 479er, and no one's sure where Texas is. Maybe she had her own craft. She's not in theirs. But there's still two people missing from the number, at least among the seats, and he's... actually a little concerned about the one.

Florida had been on the ground with a hatchet in his shoulder when Wash, York, and Carolina had caught up to them. And he'd stayed down for a long time. He'd gotten up like nothing was wrong, eventually, and the entire time he'd been lying there, Wyoming hadn't seemed that concerned about him, so Wash hadn't thought to be. It hadn't been until they'd eliminated the gunners that Wash had found out that not only had Florida been axed, but he'd been knocked off of a high platform at the same time. He'd even cheerfully pointed out where he'd fallen from. It wasn't exactly close to the ground.

So, yeah, Wash is a little concerned about that teammate in particular.

Finally, he finds Florida, sitting on the floor with his back against the bay door while Wyoming kneels in front of him, pulling the dark blue plate armor off and setting it aside. Wash can still hear Wyoming talking, but with his helmet off and it having fallen over between himself and Maine, he can't really hear his radio picking up what the older agent is saying, just that he's talking. Wyoming pauses after removing Florida's helmet and breastplate, and pulls his gloves off, presumably to make it easier to handle medical supplies and work on Florida's injuries. As he sets them down, a pair of unarmored hands snake around to settle on his helmet, weakly tugging on it in an attempt to pull it off. Apparently, Wyoming finds this amusing, as he laughs before reaching up to take it off himself. He sets it down beside Florida's, the visors facing each other almost as if they're talking to one another. Wash doesn't think that's intentional: it's too cute for Wyoming of all people to have meant to do it.

Wyoming moves to Florida's side, starting to peel the bodysuit down to his waist, and allowing Washington a rare look at the wounded man's face.

Florida is a creepy motherfucker, to be sure, but the most eerie thing about him is that he always sounds like he's smiling. And every time Wash has seen him, he has been. Even now, he's got a serene little grin on his face. He looks unsettlingly calm for a man with a yawning gash in his shoulder, one that Wash flinches upon seeing as Wyoming gingerly frees Florida's wounded side from his bodysuit. The smile could be explained, probably, by blood loss or becoming a little delirious from possibly going into shock. Or... Wash doesn't know Florida very well, but honestly, what little he does know tells him that Florida might just be Like That. He always seems so unbothered by everything.

"Right, we'll get you some painkillers," Wyoming says, quieter than Wash has ever heard him, as he reaches up to brush some stray hair off of Florida's forehead. "Then we'll see about this bleeding."

But Florida, still smiling, shakes his head. "Mm, it's not bad enough for morphine."

Wyoming's shoulders very visibly raise and lower in a sigh, but he nods, mumbles something that sounds like "of course," and opens the medkit. He sets to work, cleaning up the injury quickly and carefully, digging in the kit for gauze after he's apparently done making sure that there's no debris left in the gash. All through it, Florida just watches him work, the unworried smile never flickering or fading. In fact, Wash swears that it just gets sweeter as Wyoming's hands get bloodier. Like he's enjoying the sight of his blood on Wyoming's hands.

Wash shudders a little when it occurs to him that, honestly, Florida might be enjoying it. He's creepy, that's a creepy thing to like.

"Come on now," he finally hears Wyoming say out loud as he presses a gauze pad to the wound and tapes it into place. He shifts, moving an arm behind Florida to help him sit up. "Up you get."

Florida actually hisses when he finally moves, and the smile cracks out of existence for a brief moment, but it's back before Wyoming can see that it had gone. But even that fleeting second of visible pain breaks the unsettling illusion of "fine" that Florida seemed to have cast, and it lets Wash see just how pale Florida actually looks. Probably from the blood loss. His eyes aren't serene and unbothered, they're vacant, far-away, and kind of unfocused. It actually looks like Florida might be about to pass out.

"H-Hey...hey, man..." Finally, Wash gets up from his seat and crosses the rear bay to sit down on Florida's other side. "... you uh... you okay?"

It's been a running joke for a long time that nothing can kill Florida. Wash had thought he and Maine were indestructible, but damn if Florida isn't at least six times worse. Well, maybe only four times worse than Maine. At least Wash has the good sense to stay down when he's hurt, and nothing seems to really damage Maine. But after Maine had gotten so hurt, it's actually kind of nice to be able to look to the one remaining pillar of indestructibility.

"Worry about yourself, lad," Wyoming snaps. The English agent’s tone is clipped, annoyed. He even looks angry, moreso than usual. He's got an angry kind of face, but at least he occasionally doesn't sound like you're irritating him by breathing in a three-foot radius of him. Sometimes he even laughs. "We're fine."

Despite his partner's annoyed tone, Florida reaches across with his left hand, and rests it against Wyoming’s jaw. When he finally speaks, he sounds way stronger, far more alert, than he looks right now. "Now, Reginald, don’t be so harsh. He's only trying to help. I'm just dandy, Agent Washington."

"Dandy," huh? That's not new, Florida says that kind of stuff all the time, but Wash can't help but feel like he might not exactly be telling the truth. "Uh... we um... it just looks like you're passing out on us..."

"Oh, a little blood loss never hurt anyone!" God, Florida sounds way too chipper. And that grin is downright eldritch. Lovecraftian, even. It's horrifying up close, especially with the crimson stain of blood so very visible just beyond it from Wash's angle. It becomes even more disorienting as his eyes darken when Wyoming reaches up and takes his hand off of his jaw, placing it into his lap. Florida continues speaking, however, addressing Wash casually, conversationally, as Wyoming continues to bandage him up. "How's Agent Maine? It's a little soon for him to be back in the field, isn't it?"

"H-huh? Oh... Maine's... yeah, he's okay. He's just... he's really tired right now. He wrecked a lot of shop out there today, I think it was just... a lot for him. Like you said, it's really soon for him to be back in the fight. But once we get him back in his bunk for the night, he'll be good to go in the morning. He just needs to rest up."

"That's great. He's very lucky to have such an attentive partner."

"... you'd know about that, huh?" Wash asks after a moment, finally noting how focused Wyoming is on wrapping gauze around Florida's chest and shoulder. It's not the hurry of a man in a rush to get things done, it's slow. He's being gentle. Making sure he's doing a good job. The carefulness is sweet, almost tender, and it actually tugs at Wash's heartstrings a little.

Florida laughs, then exhales a little harshly through his nose when Wyoming helps him sit back against the door. "... I suppose I do. Reggie is very good to me. Fusses over me like no tomorrow, but I just can't be annoyed with him when he's being so sweet."

Florida? Annoyed? At Wyoming? That's rich. Wash would laugh if it wasn't so ridiculous, honestly.

Wyoming makes a noise that Wash can't even begin to read, which prompts Florida to reach for his jaw again. The attempt is denied, with Wyoming pushing Florida's hand down and away, and Florida's smile fades out entirely. Wash clears his throat, going for the medkit to help. "Uh... do you want, like... painkillers or something? I heard you say you didn't want morphine, but there might be like some aspirin in–"

"He can't take it," Wyoming snaps again. "Even if he could, aspirin's a blood thinner, that'd be the worst idea."

"Oh now, you don't need to be so harsh, he's only trying to help." Florida's smile is back, but Wash can see it straining at the corners now. He's forcing it. "No, thank you, Agent Washington."

Wyoming either ignores Florida, or doesn't hear him, and continues speaking. "He's allergic anyway."

"... huh?"

Florida lifts his left hand, waving the fingers to draw Wash's attention to it, before pointing his middle one down to a tattoo on his wrist. It looks kind of like the medical alert bracelet that Wash's own youngest sister wears; it's supposed to let people know about her penicillin allergy, and that she was diabetic. He squints to read the ink on Florida's wrist, and nods when he reads "aspirin." It's in much larger lettering than "tree nuts" and whatever "octisalate" is.

"... oh."

"Mmhm. I can sometimes have reactions to ibuprofen as well, unfortunately. So, most over-the-counter pain relievers, and even some of the good medical grade ones, are off the table. Acetaminophen is alright, and morphine works just fine, but this is a little too extensive for acetaminophen and not nearly bad enough for morphine."

"Not that you're an authority on that," Wyoming grumbles.

Florida's eyes seem to flash, and his smile drops away abruptly as he honest to God glares at Wyoming. Wash can't imagine what it's like to not be able to pop an aspirin for a headache, or take painkillers at all unless it's morphine, or whatever the hell "acetaminophen" is, but he can imagine that it leads to a much shorter temper when someone is in that much pain. And he can't believe that Florida isn't in pain. It's just... scary to see Florida looking so angry.

"... why don't you go back to Agent Maine, Agent Washington." Florida's voice is low and dangerous. It doesn't really sound like he's asking a question at all. Wash can still hear that note of near-playfulness in it, but it sounds more now like Florida's current idea of "playful" involves some degree of evisceration. It's chilling. "We should be landing soon. You should wake him up."

"I mean, nah, he'll be--"

"I really think you should."

Wash swallows. Message received. Loud and clear. He just nods this time, and scrambles back to his place beside Maine. He keeps an eye on Florida and Wyoming, though. He watches Wyoming reach for Florida's face, looking apologetic, but Florida pushes his hand away and speaks too quietly for Wash to hear. Wyoming ignores the physical, and possibly verbal, reprimand, and catches Florida by the chin. Wash can't hear Wyoming speaking, but he sees Florida's face soften, sees Wyoming rests both bloody hands along either side of Florida's jaw, and then the whole sight is obscured when Wyoming leans in closer to his partner.

They stay like that for awhile, for most of the rest of the trip back, and when the Mother of Invention comes back into sight, Wash finally sees Wyoming move again. He pulls his discarded armor back on, leaving Florida's, and bundles his partner into his lap before apparently piling the smaller agent's armor on top of his own torso. When they finally touch down, Wash sees Wyoming stand, lifting Florida up, before the rear door opens. Florida's head lolls to one side, and Wash can see that his eyes are closed: either Wyoming convinced him to sleep it off, or he finally passed out.

Almost as soon as the door opens, Wyoming is down the ramp and nearly out of sight, moving quickly toward the medical bay. Not running, it stands to reason that running would probably jostle Florida too much and agitate his injury. More like a fast walk.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, Wash is pretty sure he's only ever seen Wyoming run in drills, when there's someone standing nearby and telling him to. Usually, even in training, he pretty much just jogs anyway. But maybe that's just a perk of being the sniper, Wash guesses. No one's really expecting you to charge into the fray at top speed. As he understands it, you're kind of supposed to get in position and stay there. But then again, you're supposed to book it out of there once you've taken your shot or whatever, so maybe Wyoming does run sometimes. Though he might not need to if he's got someone covering him...

By the time Wash finishes contemplating whether Wyoming ever runs, or if he's even capable of moving faster than a light jog or brisk walk, Wyoming and Florida are completely out of sight, and York and the twins are almost gone too. It's actually Carolina shoving past him, knocking him into Maine, that actually makes him realize he's spaced out.

Rather than sound annoyed at being hit by a carelessly flung body, Maine huffs quietly down at his partner as he snags his helmet, tilting his head toward the open bay door as if asking why Wash hasn't gotten out yet.

"Huh? Sorry, we're going, big guy, it's just..." Wash spies an abandoned piece of plate armor on the floor, and wanders over to scoop it up, frowning when he identifies it as being off of one of Florida's shoulders. "... well, fuck. Better get this back to him. Wanna come with me?"

Maine just snorts, tossing Wash's helmet to him and chuckling when it hits him in the chest.

"... you dick. You're really gonna make me deal with Florida and Wyoming by myself?"

"Agent Maine would prefer not to have to speak with Agent Florida, Agent Washington," Sigma says, projection crackling into existence just over Maine's right shoulder. "Agent Florida... unsettles him."

Maine growls, turning his head sharply in Sigma's direction, and Sigma's projection disappears as quickly as it came. Wash just laughs a bit, reaching up to pat Maine's shoulder. "I get it, buddy, Florida scares the shit out of me too. But he's fucked up right now and I wanna be nice to him so that when he snaps and murders everyone, I'm safe. You go ahead, save me a spot in the mess hall."

[nitannichionne]

The Captain's Secret (Chris Evans Captain America Fanfiction) Chapter 28: Man on Fire

THOR POV

"Thor, he is a man possessed."

I looked at Hogun, away from the practice arena where it seemed my men were being taught a lesson by the Captain. "He is readying for battle."

"No," Hogun disagreed. "Can you tell us more about this Lesedi? He fights as a man would for his child or for his woman."

"Has he injured anyone?" I asked.

"Bruises, sprains, nothing of consequence, he has been careful," Hogun reported. "But there is a fire within him. I thought you said this man was calm."

"He..." I trailed off, not sure what to say. "There is much to consider. Lesedi was raised by a very honorable man, who entrusted Captain Steve Rogers with her life upon his death. This man was murdered by Loki. That is a lot to face."

Just then Fandral joined us. "He's not letting up, not even with Volstagg." We looked on as Volstagg and Captain America sparred. "This is a Midgardian?"

"He is rare among them," I explained.

"So is this Tony Stark," Fandral nodded. "I sense we are similar, but he has a keen focus and understanding I envy when it comes to the sciences. He said he is 'tweaking things.' What does that mean?"

"He is improving and changing what he has," I explained. "And if our people are smart, they will learn what they can from him. He is always learning."

"What will we do about him?" Hogun cocked his head toward the practice arena, where the Captain moved, pivoted, flipped and fought tirelessly.

I have seen Captain America-Steve Rogers-fight before. He has been in the thick of battle by my side. I have seen him make hard choices and not flinch, making sacrifices. I have seen him injured and fight with a determination earning song in the halls of Asgard, and in Valhalla. Even the stories before I met him were worthy of that.

But he is a man possessed now. I was concerned as I watched him practice with the palace guards. I've never seen him faster. I've never seen him so methodical and yet somewhat ruthless. He was even holding his own with my circle and after he had defeated the majority of our men. Sif was fighting him, and starting to lose. He didn't want to fight her; he wasn't used to fighting women. Maybe this was a chance to get him to stop.

"Captain!" I called.

He turned, blocking Sif's attack blindly and catching his breath, also giving the men a break. Groans of gratitude sounded from them.  Sif looked angry, though she needed one, too. He looked a bit annoyed at the interruption.

"You must eat and rest," I said. "Tomorrow is the day."

"I'm fine!" He turned back to the group he was sparring against. Sif went into guard stance.

I came down to the arena. "It is very important that you eat and rest."

"It is very important I am ready to face anything!"

I looked in his eyes. I'd never seen fear before, not in this man's eyes, but I saw it now. The only sounds that could be heard were hard breathing of all that had been sparring. "Dismissed."

Sif's eyes flared wide. I knew that look. It was the Why? I can take him! look.

I shook my head. "Thank you." One nod, and that was all; I had issued the order to go. All left the practice arena. I watched the Captain turn on his heel to leave. "Steve?"

He stopped, and straightened. He took a deep breath and turned.

"You do need food and rest--"

He sucked in a breath, as if for patience. "If it was Jane Foster," he exhaled, tightening his jaw. "Would you?"

I was taken aback by that line of questioning. All knew that Jane was a sensitive subject. "I understand." I paused, checking my own emotions. I had not seen her in some time, and I missed her so much, even though Heimdall was helpful in keeping track of her. "But you must be at your best tomorrow." I took a deep breath. "Please join us. It would be seen as rude to not attend the meal."

Captain America closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. "Fine." He left the arena.

I took a deep breath. I had to get Tony now. I was hoping it would be easier. I was about to leave the arena when I saw him in the corridor leading to the great hall.

"How's he doing?" Tony asked.

I shook my head. "He's alright, but then he's..."

"Not?" Tony finished. "Surprise, surprise." He fell in step next to me as we headed to the great hall.

I gave him a warning look. "He will be alright."

"He needs to admit he is feeling more than brotherly concern for her."

"That time may come, it will." I told him. "How are you?"

"Just learning as much as I can, trying to tweak everything. Asgard may be of great help to Midgard in the future--"

"We don't interfere--"

"Riiiiight," Tony smiled. "By the way, how's Jane doing?"

I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, but he didn't flinch.

"Listen, we are warriors and there is real evil out there. As warriors, we protect our women first, but we do want to protect their world, don't we? Don't we?" His eyes never wavered on mine. I released him. "I, for one, am going to be ready. You can sit here on your perch if you want to, but you know what's bad about that?"

"What?" I loosened my grip on his shirt, but still held it.

"If you barely look around, and you never look up, you've developed your own blind side." Tony bit out. "Midgard may not be Asgard, but at least we are on some kind of guard, and when I get back, I'm going to increase it tenfold, hundredfold if I can. You need to think about that. We all need to." Tony pulled free and headed off to the great hall.

I stood there, watching him. He had a point, a few of them actually. But one thing at a time. Right now, we had to get Lesedi back, and then I would try to see Jane, if only briefly. Heimdall told me that she was changing her travel plans from the Arctic. She wasn't going home to the Americas. I wondered if she figured out that I arranged to have her out of harm's way during the Battle of Midgard Manhattan. I will try to find out why as soon as I take care of matters at hand.

The thing I wouldn't and couldn't tell Steve was that Heimdall saw Lesedi locked away with males circling her. One of authority seemed to be keeping them at bay.

We had to hurry.

@nuggsmum @messyinsomnimaniac @jencanbeyouryengeralt @sweetdreamsofgelato @@mary-ann84 @omgkatinka @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae @henryobsessed @summersong69 @sunshine96love @michelehansel @thelastsock @tumblnewby @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocks @daydreamin83 @musicartmayheminmyheart @kaatelyynn-blog-blog@forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic @tamychm @nikkilynn303 @circesgirl1 @xoxohannahlee @pixie88@fckdeusername @maan24 @kaatelyyynn​ @october505​ @absentmindr​ @introvertedmouse​ @sassy-pelican @griscka75 @kebabgirl67 @its-carlerr

[highvoltagearea]

Five Places Where You Can Collect Fossils Around D.C.

About 20 million years ago, the land that’s now Virginia, Maryland and the nation’s capital Washington, D.C. was underwater. Where monuments now stand, giant megalodon shark hunted down prehistoric whales and dolphins and fish darted through coral. The marks these creatures left on the world haven’t washed away, as folks stumble on fossil evidence of their ancient lives all the time.

The Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History boasts fossils from all around the world, and yet plenty come from the area surrounding the museum itself. There’s a Miocene era baleen whale skull on display that was found in the Calvert Cliffs in Maryland, for example. A giant Megalodon replica hangs from the atrium in the cafe; a nearby plaque explains that you can still find “Meg” teeth on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay.

For amateur fossil hunters dreaming of coming across a megalodon tooth on the beach, we’ve curated a list of fossil hot spots just a hop, skip and jump from the Natural History Museum.

Calvert Cliffs – Lusby, Maryland

Calvert Cliffs State Park

(Daniel Slim/AFP via Getty Images)

Perhaps the most well-known fossil site on the east coast, the Calvert Cliffs cover about 24 miles of shoreline in Maryland. More than 600 species of fossils, including prehistoric oyster shells, mollusks and scallops as well as shark teeth, have been found on the shores. You might even find a megalodon tooth—most likely, however, you’ll find smaller teeth of other kinds of ancient sharks. Most finds date back to the Miocene era, or around 15 million years ago.

You might be wondering why it is so easy to find shark teeth millions of years old on the beach. According to Smithsonian marine paleobiologist David Bohaska, sharks lose their teeth and regrow new ones constantly. In its lifetime, he explains, a single shark can have thousands and thousands of teeth.

One location where you can access the cliffs is at Calvert Cliffs State Park in Lusby, Maryland. Just a 1.8-mile walk from the parking lot, you can scour the open beach area with a small shovel and sieve—these you’ll need to bring yourself—for remnants of prehistoric sea life. (Don’t bring a hammer or bang on rocks as this will only damage the fossil, Bohaska advises.) The cliffs are layered at a slant, so you’ll find fossils from different geologic time periods depending on where you are.

“The layers at the top are the more recent chapters and the stuff at the bottom is older,” Bohaska explains. He warns that it is illegal to climb on the cliffs or search beneath them in this area, so pay attention to signage.

Don’t forget to stay socially distant while fossil collecting during the Covid-19 pandemic. Try to give others about six feet of room—about the size of a baleen whale skull, for reference.

(Courtesy of Stratford Hall)

“You’re out in the wild, be aware,” says Bohaska. “If you look at the cliff and it has a crack, or if there’s a tree overhanging, that’s not a place you want to stand.”

You can find lots of in-depth information about where to look for fossils and how to determine what you found on the Maryland Geological Survey website. You can also download Smithsonian Scholarly Press’ The Geology and Vertebrate Paleontology of Calvert Cliffs, Maryland, USA online.

Be sure to plan ahead for filled-to-capacity closures on busy holiday weekends like Labor Day. And pack your mask: The Maryland Park Service requires face coverings in public buildings and outdoor public spaces wherever social distancing is not possible.

Stratford Hall – Stratford, Virginia

In 1717, Virginia colonist and politician Thomas Lee purchased Stratford Hall, a 1,200-acre property in Stratford, Virginia. About 17 million years earlier, during the Miocene era, however, the Stratford Hall estate’s towering 150-foot-high cliffs were actually part of the seafloor, according to its website.

In 2013, amateur paleontologist Jon Bachman—who serves as Stratford Hall’s educational events coordinator—found a 15-million-year-old whale skull on the shores of the Potomac River at the four-generation Lee family home, where Robert E. Lee was born in 1807. The six-foot-long, 1,000-pound fossil was unearthed when the banks of the river eroded that summer. The skull was “the biggest” found near the cliffs, but there’s plenty more where that came from, including “shark-toothed porpoises, salt-water crocodiles, sea cows, gopher turtles [and]rays,” according to Stratford Hall’s website.

The cliffs still turn loose small fossils as they erode. As sediment accumulated for millions of years, the ocean underwent a series of marine transgressions, meaning that over a long period of time, the shoreline receded and advanced several times. Each time that movement happened a new layer of sediment was dumped, and those layers can be seen as one looks up at the cliffs.

“The back and forth of the ocean created the right environment to preserve the remains of countless animals,” Bachman explains. “Now, as the river current scours the cliffs, these fossils are exposed and slowly emerge out of the cliffs. That’s what people want to find.”

Jon Bachman (left) and Howard University anatomy professor Daryl Domning and his daughter, Charlotte Domning, make their way to the site to excavate the skeleton of a prehistoric whale in August 2013.

(Nikki Kahn/The Washington Post via Getty Images)

Today, the waterline at the Stratford cliffs is about 16 million years old, Bachman says.

Due to irresponsible fossil hunting practices, however, visitors must purchase a grounds pass ($8 for adults and $5 for kids) to access a small, well-marked, 100-yard-long collecting area on the beach. The Hall still offers guided collecting tours led by one of their Paleo Patrol volunteers, explains Alex Withers, an events coordinator at Stratford Hall. Tours are typically about four hours long. Withers notes there is limited weekend tour availability left in the 2020 season, but they are taking reservations for 2021. (You can read up about their COVID-19 guidelines on their website.)

Bachman, who used to be a fourth grade teacher in Virginia’s Prince William County, says making fossil collecting a lifelong hobby is a worthwhile adventure. “It takes patience, this stuff isn’t littering the ground,” he says. “It’s humbling and fascinating hobby.”

Start with reviewing the principles of geology, Bachman suggests. Then move on to studying the geology in your area, which will tell you what rock formation and landscape features are nearby—and therefore, what fossils might be found there. State geologic societies have useful information on their websites.

“It’s just a delight and you don’t have to get a degree in it to enjoy it,” he adds. “You can educate yourself in stages. It’s about familiarizing yourself with the landscape around us.”

Westmoreland State Park Fossil Beach – Montross, Virginia

Westmoreland State Park Fossil Beach

(Virginia State Parks)

About 70 miles south of the Natural History Museum, Westmoreland State Park’s Fossil Beach is another hotbed for prehistoric shark teeth, but what’s really eye-catching about the location is the stratigraphy—or rocky layers—of the cliffs. Gazing up at the cliffs’ stripes is like looking 25 million years back in time; each layer represents millions of years of geologic history. Fossil Beach neighbors Stratford Hall, so the geology in both areas is similar.

“The river current erodes the sediment and fossilized material washes up on the beach,” explains Bachman, who lives nearby and collects fossils at this location. Bachman’s wife, Dianne, recently found the lower part of a leg bone, which they later found out may belong to a Miocene pseudo-toothed pelican, Pelagornis miocaenus, after having their colleague Robert Weems, a paleontologist with the U.S. Geological Survey, take a look. The bone is about six inches long and hollow, much like bird bones are today.

“People probably stepped over it a million times,” says Bachman.

Jon Bachman, an amateur paleontologist and avid fossil collecter, says his favorite find isn’t his own. His wife found a Miocene era bird bone recently.

(Courtesy of Jon Bachman)

The area was once home to the unique prehistoric whale species, Eobalaenoptera harrisoni. A model of the 14 million-year-old baleen whale hangs in the Caroline County visitor’s center just a short drive from Fossil Beach. When the original fossil was excavated in the 1990s, researchers recovered half of the full skeleton, making it one of the most complete and largest prehistoric whale skeletons in the U.S. The skeleton is housed in the Virginia Museum of Natural History in Martinsville.

During the pandemic, “face coverings are required in all park facilities and where social distancing is not possible,” according to the park’s website. Virginia State Parks also recommends bringing your own soap and hand sanitizer. Of course, respect social distancing and keep a six-foot space between yourself and others. Step aside to let others pass on trails.

Purse State Park – Nanjemoy, Maryland

Purse State Park

(Kim Hairston/Baltimore Sun/Tribune News Service via Getty Images)

Just over an hour’s drive south of D.C., Purse State Park is located on a stretch of the banks of the Potomac River called Wades Bay. Paleontologist Michelle Pinsdorf of Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History says most of the fossils you’ll find at this site are from the late Paleocene—specifically the Aquia Formation rock layer, which is 55 to 59 million years old.

“During this time period, many types of animals were evolving and diversifying to adapt to the extinction event at the end of the Cretaceous time period,” Pinsdorf writes in an email to Smithsonian magazine. “Because the deposit is marine in origin, the teeth of a wide variety of shark and bony fish species can be found in this formation.”

Alongside shark teeth, you may find an occasional prehistoric crocodile tooth, which by comparison sort of look like “an ice cream cone with an almost silky texture,” says Bohaska.

You’ll also spot plenty of fossilized shells. Pinsdorf says prehistoric oyster shells are among her favorite finds at Purse State Park. “Although they are heavily eroded and don’t have much of the shell pattern or shape left, they are a beautiful purple color and have an interesting luster and smooth texture,” she says.

The ideal time to search is during low tide when there is enough shoreline to scour. “But if you go in the days after a storm or rough waters, you’re more likely to find fossils that have recently eroded out of the bedrock, and are in better condition as a result,” explains Pinsdorf.

The trails are unmarked so it’s important to carry a compass and map, according to Maryland’s tourism department. Pinsdorf suggests taking a quarter-mile trail westward, across the road from the Park’s parking area on Route 224 (Riverside Road), to a narrow stretch of beach along Wade’s Bay.

“Bringing a colander or mesh screen is recommended to aid in sifting the gravel, in which small but numerous shark teeth and can be found,” she says. “Larger, weathered oyster shell fragments are present at this site also.”

During the coronavirus pandemic, face coverings are required in park buildings and outdoor areas where social distancing is not possible. Some parks have introduced additional cleaning procedures for restrooms or closed public restrooms. Others may be offering portable bathrooms instead, according to Maryland’s Department of Natural Resources.

Dinosaur Park – Laurel, Maryland

Steve Jabo, a fossil preparator at the Smithsonian, works on a large fossilized dinosaur bone found at Dinosaur State Park in 2011.

(Marvin Joseph/The Washington Post via Getty Images)

Originally a prime site for iron mining, African American miners in 1858 were the first to discover dinosaur fossils at this site. Geologist Philip Thomas Tyson brought the fossilized bones from the mines to a scientific conference in 1859, where they were officially identified as dinosaur remains.

“It’s a place where people have been working for a few hundred years,” explains paleontologist Matt Carrano of Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History. If the area where Dinosaur Park now stands hadn’t been mined at all, it would look like a normal Maryland hillside covered in vegetation. “It’s only a good spot for fossil collecting because it was mined for so long,” he says.” You’re looking at bedrock where there should be soil.”

Today, Dinosaur Park features fossilized dino bones, including some from Maryland’s state dinosaur Astrodon johnstoni, and floral remnants from the early Cretaceous period about 115 million years ago. At the time, the region would have resembled something like a swampy bayou with muddy streams. According to Carrano, the sediment was a very fine, almost “pottery-quality,” clay-like material.

“You’re walking on a clay layer that was deposited 110 million years ago,” Carrano says. Now, when it rains, the clay absorbs the water and then dries out again, revealing fossil fragments in that process. The most common finds are plant material, like wood and pine cones.

“Every now and then the conditions are just right and you get a situation when the environment is saving things instead of recycling them,” Carrano explains.

Due to COVID-19, all public programs and fossil collecting at Dinosaur Park are currently on hold, but the park area is open from sunrise to sunset. The unrestricted area features a Cretaceous-era garden and a climbable dinosaur “skeleton.” Signs describe the kinds of dinosaurs that once roamed the area, what Maryland’s prehistoric environment looked like and the African American history in the area, according to the park’s website.

Dinosaur Park usually serves as an outdoor laboratory, where the public can work alongside paleontologists to help uncover the past on the first and third Saturdays of the month or by appointment. Hundreds of fossils discovered by visitors have been collected and cataloged to date, enhancing our knowledge about the ancient ecosystem that once existed here.

“There’s a steady stream of new discoveries,” Carrano says. “We’re in this phase when the variety is much greater than we knew, just because we didn’t have much collected from the area. Many times, you’ll know you have something new, but you don’t have enough of it to give it a new name.”

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[theblognobodyfoundlastyear]

“In their last moments, people show you who they really are”

As we know, with this whole pandemic underway, it’s not surprising that the thought of an existential crisis comes to mind, your truly included. Indeed, for what we could run away on the road of daily routines, we finally have to face the cold truth -- that we really have no idea. No plan. No vision.

Not surprisingly, it seems that having the confidence to face said hard truths is never an easy decision. After all, we live in an age where the “easy but greasy” way is the path most travelled. And I suppose one could go out of their way to tackle the hard truths and punch them until they lie unconscious, only to realise that this is an ongoing task, a daily ritual, a routine of dealing with the truths of old. But to resolve something, and then to realise the futility of having to deal with such truths day-to-day, how would one continue to strive onwards when goal posts are always running further away, beckoning you to try as hard as you might only to notice that it was all meaningless? As mistakes are made, so will progress. In time, the mundane nature of the fact is that it is indeed inescapable.

So one should dash their hopes and dreams, commitments and aspirations, all to defeat the beast inside? Perhaps not so much a “beast” as more of a starved pelican that constantly attacks you whenever you’re carrying a cold beverage around. Perhaps that is the fate that befells all. Most people would try to evade destiny like a “choose your own adventure” novel, and some would never bother starting, knowing full well the inevitability of such a feat. Yet we must answer the call now, if not, eventually.

I suppose another mindset is that “I still have time. Let future me deal with that problem”. Not dismissing myself of such inadequacies, but it does make one think: To what end are you willing to flee from your own problems? After all, life doesn’t get much easier once everything changes yet stays the same. Would it be advisable to live in such a way that provokes unpredictability? I suppose a level of stability is a necessary evil -- after all, that’s how employment records work. But even so, in a time when one is not yet at the mid-game of life but still has opportunities to bulk up, “git gud” and flex hard, it may as well be something worth looking into for when the time comes.

And what of the personal goals and aspirations? One might argue in the counter-direction that such dreams are but fleeting thoughts, wishful thinking that is no better than yearning for KFC on a late night after a regrettable “social perusing”, to say the least. That’s not to say they’re worthless in its entirety, but a good realisation to understand is that what you think now may not translate to fond memories for your future self even if said future self isn’t adversely affected by such decisions. So the lesson, if there was one to begin with, may as well be: Think about the future and what you can do about it now. Don’t need to spend a lot of time, but from time to time, keep it at bay. Then action it. Even if it’s an incremental step. After all, you’re always heading in that direction anyway.

‘Til next time, young padawan.

The easy way, or the hard way? Only you can decide that, friend!

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY, THE SKYDIVER

S3;E2 ~ September 21, 1970

Directed by Herbert Kenwith ~ Written by Larry Rhine and Lou Derman

Synopsis

When Kim and Craig take up dangerous hobbies, Lucy decides to use reverse psychology and take up skydiving.  But when Harry sees an opportunity to get publicity for the Unique Employment Agency, Lucy has no choice but to go through with her flight!  

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carter), Gale Gordon (Harrison Otis Carter), Desi Arnaz Jr. (Craig Carter), Lucie Arnaz (Kim Carter)

Guest Cast

Rhodes Reason (Sam Tolliver) here marks the third of his five episodes of “Here’s Lucy” having previously appeared in “Lucy, the Matchmaker” (S1;E12) and “Lucy and the Gold Rush” (S1;E13).  He also appeared with Lucille Ball in the 1974 TV movie Happy Anniversary and Goodbye.

Bill Baldwin (Steve Campbell, Reporter for the Valley Gazette) was a voice on the radio in the Lucille Ball film Critic's Choice (1963).  

The voices on the TV soap opera (Cynthia and Herbie) as well as the two photographers are played by uncredited background performers.

The date this episode first aired, ABC TV debuted “NFL Monday Night Football,” formidable competition for “Here's Lucy.”  The show is still on the air today, although it moved to ESPN in 2006.

To simulate Lucy actually skydiving, an apparatus was built outside the sound stage. Lucille was strapped by her feet onto a high platform, her lower body in a brace. The apparatus could move in any direction, making it appear as though Lucy is moving through the air. A large fan blows air at her while she moves about as if she is free falling. The camera films her from beneath, keeping just her upper body in the frame.

The theme of this episode is 'do your own thing.' The phrase is used repeatedly in the dialogue. In the 1960s, 'do your own thing' became a common expression used by and about young people. It meant to do whatever you wanted, without feeling guilty and free of the conformity of previous generations. There was even a 1968 off-Broadway rock musical (based on Shakespeare's Twelfth Night) titled Your Own Thing. This school of thought led to what is now known as the “Me Generation.”

Doing their own thing, Craig takes up spear fishing while Kim joins a motorcycle club. When Lucy sees her daughter in a motorcycle helmet she asks if she's playing for the Rams, Los Angeles' hometown football team. Later, when she has the parachute pack strapped to her back, Lucy says she feels like she's carrying the Green Bay Packers, yet another football reference in a sports-themed episode that aired (coincidentally) the same day as the premiere of Monday Night Football.  

About motorcycling, Lucy says she doesn't want Kim to be another Steve McQueen. Actor Steve McQueen’s favorite things were racing and motorcycles. He famously rode a motorcycle in 1963’s The Great Escape.  He was mentioned in this context by Lucy Carmichael in “Lucy Goes to a Hollywood Premiere” (TLS S4;E20).

Before arriving at the idea of skydiving, Lucy borrows a book about wrestling alligators and even thinks about being a bull fighter. Lucy Ricardo fought a bull in a Tijuana bullring in “Lucy Goes to Mexico” a 1958 episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour.”  

When Harry jokes about committing suicide by jumping out of the window due he says, “One giant step for mankind, one small step for Harry.” This is a paraphrase of the famous words spoken by astronaut Neil Armstrong when he first stepped foot on the surface of the moon on July 20, 1969. 

When Harry hears Lucy has changed her mind about skydiving he quips, “Good. You'd only confuse the swallows on their way to Capistrano.” This is a reference to San Juan Mission in Capistrano, southern California.  It is there that the American cliff swallow migrates every year from its winters in Argentina, making the 6,000-mile trek in springtime. The expression “when the swallows return to Capistrano” has entered common usage.  Capistrano was previously mentioned in “Lucy Gets the Bird” (TLS S3;E12) and “Lucy's Working Daughter” (S1;E10).  

Kim is going motorcycling with Tommy Murphy, who Craig says must weigh 400 pounds, a funny visual image.  

Lucy comes home singing “Off We Go, Into the Wild Blue Yonder” aka “The U.S. Air Force Song” written in 1938 by Robert MacArthur Crawford. It was previously heard over the helicopter shot that ends “Lucy Goes to the Air Force Academy: Part 2” (S2;E2).

To encourage her to make the leap, Harry invokes the names of Joan of Arc and Florence Nightingale as inspiration.  Harry later says that they may even put her footprints in front of Grauman's Chinese Theatre. Lucille Ball and Joan of Arc are two of the many powerful women mentioned in the lyrics to the song “I Want it All” by David Shire and Richard Matlby Jr. written for the 1983 Broadway musical Baby. In “Lucy Plays Florence Nightingale” (TLS S2;E14), Lucy Carmichael becomes a candystriper just as Mr. Mooney enters the hospital.  Ironically, Lucille Ball is one of the few Hollywood stars not to have ever had their footprints in the forecourt of Grauman's Chinese Theatre.  She did, however, create a classic half hour of television in which Lucy Ricardo and Ethel Mertz steal John Wayne's footprints from iconic movie palace in “Lucy Visits Grauman's (ILL S5;E1).  

Lucy compares herself soaring through the blue sky to Columbus sailing the blue sea. Lucy Carter spoke a great deal about Christopher Columbus during her recitation portion of the Secretary Beautiful pageant in “Lucy Competes with Carol Burnett” (S2;E24).  

A worried Kim says that her mother's rendezvous with destiny may well be more like a rendezvous with Medicare!  In 1970 Medicare was barely five years old and was still frequently making newspaper headlines.  It was also used as the source of humor on the last two seasons of “The Lucy Show.”

Just before making up her mind whether to jump, Lucy hears Harry's encouraging words in her head.  This surreal technique was previously used in “Lucy Competes With Carol Burnett” (S2;E24) when Carol derides Lucy for not wanting to compete in the Secretary Beautiful pageant.

When Lucy's parachute is revealed to have 'Carter's Unique Employment Agency' written on it, Harry remarks “Goodyear Blimp eat your heart out.” The Goodyear Blimp is a dirigible airship owned and operated by the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company which has the name of the company written across it and is used mainly for advertising purposes. It was first flown in 1925 and still can be seen hovering over televised sports games and highly attended events.  

After crashing through the ceiling, Lucy remarks “I don't know how the Flying Nun did it everyday.”  “The Flying Nun” was a sitcom about a nun (Sally Field) whose habit and pelican-like cornet helped her defy the laws of gravity. The show aired on ABC from 1967 to 1970.  The show was previously mentioned in “Lucy's Working Daughter” (S1;E10).  

Lucille Ball did a similar stunt of crashing through the ceiling after a parachute jump in “Lucy and Bob Crane” (TLS S4;E22) when she acted in a World War One movie with the “Hogan's Heros” star.

Lucille Ball was previously dropped from the ceiling on a harness (without the crash) when Lucy Ricardo missed the boat in “Bon Voyage” (ILL S5;E13) and was lowered to the deck via helicopter.  Like this episode of “Here's Lucy,” a double was filmed in long shots and Lucy did the on-set scenes.

Reverse Psychology was a common plot point on “Lucy” sitcoms.  It was first used in “The Inferiority Complex” (ILL S2;18, above) to coax Lucy Ricardo out of a funk. They later use it when “Little Ricky Gets Stage Fright” (S6;E4) to get him to play his drums.  Later that same season, the girls use it on the boys to make them think they would be better at “Building a Bar-B-Q” (S6;E24).  

Props!  Although the reporter says he's from The Valley Gazette, the morning paper held by Craig has a masthead that reads The Daily Chronicle, the show's usual prop newspaper.  

“Lucy, the Skydiver” rates 3 Paper Hearts out of 5

This episode tries to maintain the generation gap themes of the series without adding music or celebrities.  Of course, its main draw is Lucy's stunt work at the end of the episode.

[junker-town]

Nobody knows what’s next for Draymond Green, not even Draymond Green

Trying to figure out Green’s value in the larger NBA landscape is as difficult as ever, even for his biggest supporters.

Two days after the Golden State Warriors lost Game 1 of the NBA Finals, Draymond Green strode into Scotiabank Arena with the aplomb of a powerful dynasty at his back. Wrapped in a grey Warriors zip-up hoodie, at around 1:30 p.m. — 15 minutes after he was scheduled to speak — the three-time champion walked towards a makeshift podium that was propped up on the far right corner of the court. In front of a dozen TV cameras, microphones, and digital recorders, the NBA’s most complex catalyst sat down for an array of questions about basketball, life, and everywhere those two subjects intersect.

Heading into these playoffs, Green was the closest thing to a question mark the Warriors had. The 29-year-old’s seventh regular season ended with him averaging just 7.4 points per game, making only 28.5 percent of his threes, and sporting the same PER as Terry Rozier and Kentavious Caldwell-Pope. His turnover rate ballooned to 26.8 despite his usage dropping to the lowest it’d ever been. For the first time since 2015-16, he didn’t make the NBA All-Star team, was denied All-NBA consideration, and, in increasingly damaging ways, allowed his emotional volatility to infect Golden State’s model work environment.

In November, the team suspended Green for a game after he indelicately addressed the taboo subject that is Kevin Durant’s free agency on the floor after a loss against the Los Angeles Clippers — a destabilizing event that could’ve turned the defending champ’s titanium-forged castle into a house of cards. In March, during a humiliating home loss against the 19-win Phoenix Suns, television cameras caught Warriors head coach Steve Kerr saying he’s “so fucking tired of Draymond’s shit.”

Several metrics that have long smiled at Green’s impact continued to do so — he finished top-five in Defensive Real Plus-Minus for the fourth time in five years — but for significant stretches it looked like his time as a top-15 player was nearing its end. Since 2015, the Warriors had never posted a negative plus/minus for an entire month with Green on the court. In February, they were -22. The possibility of a great player stumbling towards the next phase of his career was real. Instead, what followed was a masterful playoff run; a seasoned tour de force of patience, wisdom, and command that was unlike anything seen from Green before. (Triple-doubles aren’t everything, but from 2015-2018 he recorded four of them. In these playoffs, Green had six.)

“I’d say this is the best basketball I’ve seen him play. I mean, what area of his game is he not better at?” Michigan State head coach Tom Izzo told SB Nation days before the Finals began. “I just think he’s in a good place. He doesn’t have to prove [anything]. He’s getting credit for what he’s elite at. Now, his job is to stay in that good place.”

Back in the scrum, a reporter asks Green about his future. As someone whose professional accomplishments will someday be applauded through a Hall of Fame induction ceremony, how does he — entering the final year of his contract — prioritize his goals after showing the world that the best may still be yet to come?

“I’m a person who knows if we’re winning it’ll all take care of itself. When you’re winning you get the accolades. When you’re on a team that wins 20 games you usually don’t get accolades. That’s just the way it goes,” he said. “So I’m just gonna continue to try to do what we’ve been doing, and all the rest of those things take care of themselves.”

Little did Green know what was about to happen. Nine days later, Durant would rupture his Achilles. Three after that, Thompson’s torn ACL all but ended Golden State’s chance at a three-peat. The Toronto Raptors won their first NBA championship with a 114-110 victory in Game 6 on June 13. Green couldn’t save the Warriors, but he finished the playoffs as their leader in plus/minus, rebounds, assists, steals, and blocks, averaging 13.3 points, 10.1 rebounds, and 8.5 assists per game.

Random injuries, shifting trends, and locker room melodrama prohibit an accurate read on what will happen six days from now, let alone a calendar year, for any player. The NBA is a turbulent place. But even though most inquiries into Green’s future are unanswerable until July 2020, when his current contract expires, that doesn’t make them any less consequential, divisive, or fascinating right now, as the Warriors lick their wounds and climb back up towards a prize that isn’t promised to anyone.

Will Golden State pay him the most he’s eligible to receive? If not, will Green stay for less money, particularly if another team is willing to offer more? And how will his unique game age, whether alongside Steph Curry and Klay Thompson or elsewhere? (A chicken or egg predicament those around the NBA have contemplated for years.)

After a heartbreaking loss in Oracle Arena’s series finale, Green sat in the interview room while the Raptors bathed in champagne. “I think everybody thinks it’s kind of the end of us. But that’s just not smart. We’re not done yet,” he said. “We lost this year. Clearly just wasn’t our year, but that’s how the cookie crumbles sometimes. But, yeah, I hear a lot of that noise, it’s the end of a run and all that jazz. I don’t see it happening though. We’ll be back.”

Finding the good place

If the on and off-court growth that was on display over the past couple months sustains itself, Green’s free agency will be powerful enough to disrupt the league’s hierarchy. Much has been made about his diet, the underlying discipline that’s required to keep lost weight off, and how it’s all positively impacted his psyche and temperament. (“He’s handling things so much different now,” Izzo said.) And for good reason. When blended with myriad ways his game has transformed — with weaker sections being acknowledged and then rectified — that self-maturation gives credence to the arguments for Green as a force through his next contract, in or outside the Bay Area.

The ramifications here are somewhat astonishing for a player who was drafted 35th overall after four years with the Spartans. He was never treated as a threat from behind the three-point line, and came out of school with no discernible NBA position or role. At times, his worst enemy was himself. Green battled weight issues and struggled with conditioning, but there were unquantifiable, transcendent distinctions that helped propel him into the career he’s had, and the future he’s equipped to enjoy.

“He was really good [in college], but I wouldn’t say great at anything,” Izzo said. “I’d agree with everybody, and they’d say ‘well what does he do great to be a first-round pick? Wins.’ He wins! He wins and he’s got toughness and he’s got intelligence. But people don’t look at those as skills and that’s why I think he’s transformed the game. Toughness and the heart he plays with is a skill. Intelligence is a skill. And, man, winning is a skill. There’s a lot of great players that aren’t great winners.”

Photo by Jamie Squire/Getty Images

Draymond Green running the court for the Michigan State Spartans during the 2012 NCAA Tournament.

New Orleans Pelicans head coach Alvin Gentry spent one year as an assistant with the Warriors. It didn’t take long for him to see how special Green was. “The guy really is a coach’s dream,” Gentry told the Detroit Free Press in 2015. “You can’t place a value on that. Use every cliché you can. His teams always win. The squad you put him on in a scrimmage, his team is going to win.”

It’s all translated into him becoming a transformational figure who’s spent his entire life triumphing over doubt. In these playoffs, he was victorious in ways unseen before: The determination it takes to remove alcohol and junk food from your diet isn’t easy after they’ve been in it so long. Vices can be harder to shake than a bad reputation. But removing them not only helped his body, it also relieved his mind.

”When I went on this diet, it’s like a sense of control,” Green told ESPN. “Having that control, it carries over to other areas in your life.”

Green’s emotional steadiness is important. But so is his body, refurbished and prepared to complement an evolving mind. “To me, it all ties together,” Kerr said during the Finals. In games played over the past two months, Green was lean enough to do things he otherwise couldn’t on a consistent basis, be it switching on a guard early in a possession and then shutting him down for 18 straight seconds, or pushing a fastbreak late in the fourth quarter and scoring without assistance. He was also more poised in one very specific and notable way.

For Golden State’s entire reign, it was scripture for every defense to ignore Green whenever he didn’t have the ball. The strategy has had mixed results but was never without logic, given the existence of Curry and Thompson. The result: Green’s career postseason three-point rate was 41 percent before these playoffs began. Heading into the Finals, it dropped all the way down to 22.4 percent, despite no real change in teammates, role, or his opponent’s behavior.

“He’ll get mad at me if he saw, but I don’t think he’s comfortable with his outside shot,” Izzo said. “I don’t think he’s as confident.” The 64-year-old attributes that to Green not having enough time last summer to work on his mechanics. Instead, a chunk of his offseason was spent rehabbing injuries down in Florida, where Izzo traveled twice to check in.

“I like when he passes them up. And people say ‘well, why is he passing them up?’ I say ‘what do you want him to do, shoot them and miss them?’ Izzo said. “Winning is more important than his ego. Maybe when he was younger, like all of us, maybe his ego was more important than winning [laughs].”

Green’s self-awareness expanded how he was able to control the action, frustrating opposing coaching staffs that believed they finally figured him out.

“I know that was apart of our game plan and our thought process coming in, that we would try to see if he wanted to try to make as many shots as he could from [behind the three-point line] because he wasn’t guarded,” Minnesota Timberwolves assistant coach David Vanterpool — who coached against Green in the Western Conference Finals as an assistant coach for the Portland Trail Blazers — told SB Nation. “Lesser intelligent players on that stage may take that bait. He’s not one of them. I think he’ll try a shot and if he misses he’ll say ‘alright I’ll do something different,’ where other guys will take the bait.”

The Warriors insist they didn’t instruct Green to shoot fewer threes — his three-point nearly doubled in the Finals from the conference finals — and instead cite his uncanny intelligence as a reason for the adjustment. “You never want to take confidence away from any of your players,” Warriors assistant coach Jarron Collins told SB Nation. “We encourage him. If he’s open, shoot it. But if not, if you don’t want to, these are your options.”

In Green’s opinion, the rationale for change was straightforward: “[My three-point rate] is down because I’ve just been getting to the hole. If I can get to the hole, that’s a better shot for me,” he said. “Saying that, I don’t think much of it. If I had a three-point shot and I got a lane, I’m going to take that lane and get to the basket.”

After averaging 2.2 and 2.4 drives per game in the past two postseasons, Green went up to 4.2 this year. Some of that was thanks to Durant’s injury and not having DeMarcus Cousins around to take up space in the paint. But unlike the past, Green was also a much more accurate scorer at the basket. Among all players who attempted at least 100 shots at the rim in any postseason since 2001, only eight registered a higher field goal percentage than Green’s 74.1.

Green was a blur, too, and the primary reason why Golden State had the postseason’s second-fastest offense with him on the floor and third-slowest when he sat. He reestablished himself as a point guard who regularly forces the other team to feel him in the open floor. “I think the one added dimension he’s brought to the table is when he’s pushed the ball, he’s finished and finished well for us in transition,” Warriors assistant coach Mike Brown told SB Nation. Every playoff push was like a bowling ball with its own microprocessor. It reflected a conscious decision to redistribute his shot selection in ways that impact winning, with a body and outlook that let him be more potent and useful in areas that were once compromising.

“He’s being more patient out there because he’s expanded the things he’s doing for us offensively, from, not only getting to the rim and finishing, but playing the DHO game, playing the swing pick-and-roll game, and, obviously what he’s always done, just waiting for shooters to come off of pindowns,” Brown said. “I think that’s just a testament of his game evolving.”

Staying in the good place

It’s not wrong to process these changes then think Green’s future is notably brighter than one might’ve thought before the playoffs began. The Warriors have more information about him than anyone, for better and for worse, but they can’t ignore his ongoing influence when considering what life without him could look like.

Green’s willingness to prolong his middle-aged perspective and fine-tuned physique will go a long way towards determining how much these questions actually matter; those who’ve been around him for years are optimistic about his ability to replicate this run for another few years, at least.

“From my own personal experience in the league, the most important thing as you age is how you maintain your body,” Collins said. “He knows that, and being around guys, veterans that have played many, many years in this league, from David West to Zaza Pachulia, to Andrew Bogut, to Andre Iguodala, and Shaun Livingston, he sees that and he knows that.”

Tied to that point, one’s health is, of course, unpredictable. But players who treat their body like a temple have an inherent leg up on father time, especially as it related to players from the past, thanks to a league that’s more inclined to conserve — as opposed to exploit — its talent.

“I was required to play four games in five nights and still practice. The NBA wasn’t making a constant effort to make sure that you preserve the players,” ESPN analyst Jalen Rose told SB Nation. “When I played there was more guys that averaged 38-40 minutes per games. I think now it allows the player to play a lot longer and be a lot more effective.”

Physical decline impacts every player, but Green should be able to stiff arm its effect longer than most. Green possesses certain on-court traits that aren’t likely to corrode, and betting on his faults to improve isn’t a bad idea. High-level passing tends to age well and, daring approach aside, Green is one of the game’s smartest passers. His assist rate in this postseason was a career high and nearly ten points above what it was during Golden State’s first title run. (His potential assists were 9.4 during the 2014-15 playoffs and ended at 15.7 this year — more than everyone except Russell Westbrook. He finished with 51 more total potential assists than anyone else.) Few players, at any position, see the floor with his panoramic vision.

“[Draymond’s game] isn’t really based on athleticism, you know? I think as long as he takes care of his body, and as long as he continues to eat right, stay at a healthy weight, and not just go in there for treatment like he has an injury, but get treatment for maintenance, I think he can play this way for a while,” Brown said. “If he relied on his athleticism to get rebounds and make plays, I don’t know how his game would translate in the years to come.”

The instantaneous recognition of a GPS system and an exceptional ability to think through every possession on both sides of the ball won’t disappear, either. “He’ll probably still get [to his spots],” Vanterpool said. “You’ll just wonder how he’s getting there so quickly.”

Green is also a savvy screener, so much so that Izzo turns the best into a highlight film he then force feeds to incoming Spartan bigs. The clips illustrate all the different ways Green shifts his body and tweaks his feet to free teammates up. Those split-second battles within the battle define him, and, in many ways, Golden State’s historic run. (With their season on the line in Game 5 of the NBA Finals, the Warriors exclusively leaned on Curry-Green pick-and-rolls.)

“I think he could adapt to a lot of teams,” Izzo said. “But if he’s setting those great screens and guys aren’t making shots, it’s not as good.”

Green understands when to pummel the game’s flow, and when to give it a shoulder rub. One minute he’s bullying all rhythm into submission, the next he’s stabilizing it. Green’s jurisdiction over all activity is almost too broad for a neat player comp, but elements of PJ Tucker (34 years old), Paul Millsap (34), and Al Horford (33) are relevant for interested teams attempting to project what Green will look like a few years from now. Historically, Dennis Rodman (minus the playmaking) is a popular parallel, as well as Jason Kidd, whose ameliorated three-point shot provides hope for anyone confident in Green’s ability to become a respected outside threat.

“Somebody better hope he doesn’t restructure that shot this summer,” Izzo said. “Because if he does, he’s gonna have three, four years of incredible basketball, if he can stay healthy.”

Searching for another place?

For 29 other teams, Green’s value is fluid. Independent of Hall of Fame teammates and a system that accentuates his sharpest qualities, he’s still one of the most predatory defenders in NBA history, with offensive blemishes that can either be mitigated or amplified. Some around the league are still unable to disentangle Green’s success from all the benefits provided by the two most feared shooters we’ve ever seen.

“I don’t think he moves the needle if he goes to an average team,” one Western Conference assistant coach told SB Nation. “When you prep for them you don’t mention him. We have to spend so much stress and time with the split-action game that’s it hard not to be good when people literally don’t guard you.”

There’s no definitive evidence on either side of the aisle, but situational context, role, and surrounding personnel are a big deal for 99.9 percent of the NBA’s work force. No player is perfect and some skill-sets are more or less suitable beside the strengths and weaknesses of others. It’s not as if anyone could plug into Golden State’s scheme and duplicate Green’s authority. As a playmaker and defensive anchor, he simplifies what Curry and Thompson need to focus on in meaningful ways.

“I don’t think he moves the needle if he goes to an average team. When you prep for them you don’t mention him.”

“Obviously Steph and Klay are phenomenal and take nothing away from them, but Draymond Green goes hand in hand with all of their winning,” Vanterpool said. “I think Steph and Klay are allowed to be more Steph and Klay because of Draymond. Because of the way that they play, it allows them to run around and just take shots.”

Since 2015, the Warriors are +4 in the playoffs when Curry is on the court without Green. When Green plays without Curry, the Warriors are +146. Some of that was due to the time Curry missed in 2016 and 2018, and the same effect doesn’t translate during the regular season, but it’s still jarring. Despite a persistent and fair doubt in his ability to score or even create quality offense without the Splash Brothers, Green has prevailed as a North Star for one of the most impressive journeys in NBA history. His intelligence, toughness, and universally-appreciated intangibles should translate wherever he goes.

“He makes so many plays under the rim because he’s helping, he’s cheating, he’s jumping out of the lane, back in the lane,” Izzo said. “Watch other teams, nobody does that! A guy rolls to the basket and is wide open but Draymond’s there so they don’t even throw it to him, so he doesn’t get credit for good defense, unless you’re a coach looking for that stuff. So many players don’t play that way.”

During the past two postseasons, admired Green from afar, awed by someone who showed no weakness whenever Golden State tried to get a stop. “He sniffs plays out,” he said. “I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do with him defensively. He’s a one-man wrecking crew.”

During the conference finals, Green consistently poisoned Portland’s offensive strategy by making the Blazers second guess their own game plan before it was even actualized.

“I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do with him defensively. He’s a one-man wrecking crew.”

“A lot of times, we’d try to put him in the pick-and-roll to limit their backside help,” Vanterpool says. “But now that makes the screen and the trap off the pick-and-roll more aggressive and causes a totally different problem. There are a lot of ways to move him around and complicate things, but what ends up happening a lot of times is you have to do so much that you end up making life more complicated for your guys before you’ve even gone through the process of the set.”

Should he enter unrestricted free agency, alternate destinations will be available. Many teams are positioned to have max cap space in 2020 — the first summer all those toxic 2016 deals come off the books — and besides Davis there won’t really be any other stars to bid on. But how many buyers can sell Green (and themselves) on immediate championship contention? The Denver Nuggets might be one. What will the Dallas Mavericks or Atlanta Hawks look like?

That ability to play with the ball in his hands is a gift and a curse. So long as he’s surrounded by diligent shooters who screen, cut, and enthusiastically run the floor, there’s no issue. Otherwise, so much of what makes Green a special offensive player is muted. “What he does isn’t for all 30 teams,” Rose said. “But I do believe you can plug and play him into a lot of other winning situations.”

How the money works

All this will be considered when his new agent, Rich Paul, sits down to negotiate Green’s next contract with Warriors management. After the 2018 Finals, ESPN reported that Green was not expected to take a pay cut on his next deal. “I don’t look at it like it’s their turn to do me right. If I continue to play my game, if I continue to do better, they got to do me right, or somebody else will,” he said.

The sentiment echoed something Green alluded to one day before the 2019 Finals began: “I’m not going to sit here and say money doesn’t matter or accolades doesn’t matter. Who doesn’t want those things? But I think what we have done a great job of is putting the number one goal ahead of all of that. It started with me in 2015. We won a championship. I got my contract. And then it went to Steph and Andre and Klay, even before me, and Kevin. I think so many times you see people struggle to put those team goals ahead of their personal goals, thinking their personal goals are taking a back seat. But if you put the team goals ahead of that, it pulls your personal goals right along with it.”

Photo by Justin K. Aller/Getty Images

From left: Andre Iguodala, Klay Thompson, Steph Curry, Draymond Green, and Kevin Durant of the Golden State Warriors celebrate after defeating the Cleveland Cavaliers in the 2018 NBA Finals.

If Green makes an All-NBA team or wins Defensive Player of the Year next season, he will be eligible for the super max. According to current salary cap projections, that’s nearly $240 million over five years. If he doesn’t qualify, Green’s max from Golden State will be about $156 over four years and $201 million over five. That money isn’t a lock, but barring an inexplicable event Green is lined up to receive a steep raise from whoever’s willing to pay it. (The most any other team can offer is approximately $150 million over four years.)

With Durant and Thompson likely out of the picture next season, Green has an opportunity to treat the max as a worst-case scenario when negotiating with an ownership group that may not be willing to absorb the loss of a franchise icon as it opens their new arena.

Money isn’t the end all be all for every free agent, though. (Even one who aspires to become a billionaire.) The bond Green shares with Curry, Thompson, Kerr, and Warriors general manager Bob Myers is lifelong; few players, ever, can relate to everything they’ve gone through together. Trust and loyalty are two words that matter to Green, and even in the cutthroat world of professional sports, they won’t be ignored. In the back of his mind, well aware of how long it would take to construct the key tenets found in every successful relationship in a new environment, moving on may never be something he comes around to doing.

“I’m not his father and I’m not his agent but I do think there’s certain places for certain people. My humble opinion, he’s with the right team, the right players, the right coach and the right GM,” Izzo said. “When Bob Myers sat with him when he was kicked out of Game 5, that to me seemed un-NBA-ish. I don’t know of a general manager that would’ve done something like that. I always tell Draymond, ‘Hey if he’s mad at somebody, remember when you were down they were sitting with you, man!’ Just brilliant. Brilliant. Match made in heaven. Now that can change. People have great marriages, get divorced. It can change. But I just think that he has too much of a great relationship with Steph and Klay. Those guys have been there with him. That’s three amigos right there, boy.”

Maybe he will look around and realize a max contract in another city isn’t the same as slightly less money for the opportunity to sustain something special in San Francisco. Or maybe his irrepressible pride won’t accept any disregard for his unique gifts.

Perhaps the Warriors explore moving Green before next year’s trade deadline to protect themselves from losing him for nothing. Assuming Thompson and Durant are out of the on-court equation next year, the Warriors may want to take a step back before they can leap forward. And even with blooming revenue streams, the outlandish cost of keeping an aging core together may not be what Warriors primary owner Joe Lacob wants to do.

If a five-year max is what Green seeks, league insiders polled for this article aren’t bullish on Golden State complying. One Western Conference general manager’s response to whether the Warriors will offer Green max money, let alone the super max if he’s eligible, was “probably not.” That doesn’t mean the two sides can’t find common ground. The chance of a maximum contract that’s shorter than five years is always possible. Perhaps a three-year deal (with a player option in year three) that aligns with Curry’s, or, if Thompson agrees to a five-year deal this summer, a four-year pact that expires at the same time. A four-year extension may be offered by Golden State this offseason, but if Green were to accept it he’d leave between $50 and $100 million on the table. “You never get what you deserve, you only get what you have the leverage to negotiate,” Rose said. “For their team and what they’re trying to accomplish, he definitely deserves a maximum contract.”

Again, it’s hard to dig into Golden State’s thought process this far out. If they do not enter 2021 as defending champions, why would they want to lock into an aging core at a cost that vaporizes all flexibility and throws them deep into the luxury/repeater tax? Assuming Thompson and Curry are on max contracts, upgrading from Green with available cap space won’t be easy. The Warriors can’t outright afford Anthony Davis next summer, or Giannis Antetokounmpo (who’s represented by the same agency as Curry) a year after that. There’s risk going down those roads but — for an organization that views itself as being light years ahead of the competition, with full understanding that rings are worn by the bold — they may as well explore them.

The future is unknown

Nothing about Green is simple, including any attempt to forecast whatever lies ahead. He exists on a spectrum, at once passionate, intellectual, perceptive, obtuse, precise, raw, confident, insecure, self-sacrificing, and egotistical. His skill-set is so particular to the wildly successful situation in which he’s spent his entire career that imagining him outside it is almost impossible, if not besides the point. He’s influential yet one and only. And, at his core, above everything else, he’s a conqueror; the exultant, flawed, and memorable main character in any epic that’s worth reading twice.

Coming out of these playoffs, his staunch belief that everything will take care of itself is more sensible than naive. Bruised feelings are always possible if Green stays healthy and pushes to earn a max contract that is never offered, but he isn’t slowing down and very little about his game suggests meaningful decline will occur anytime soon. Several realistic paths lie ahead, and at least a few involve him signing with a team that’s willing to roll the dice on a string of variables that could finally reveal how much he impacts winning when not surrounded by the greatest shooters who ever lived, empowered by an organization that understands who he is and everything he needs.

If that’s the case, Green will inevitably be scrutinized and embraced at the exact same time. Will his lifelong trend as a difference-making victor carry on, or — as all things must do — come to an end?

Ask him about it and all you’ll hear is the relentless resolve of a generation-influencing archetype. A soulful provocateur who knows he has more to give, wherever it may be. “I hope I continue to play better and better and show signs of peaking,” he said. “But I hope it’s not really me peaking. I don’t believe in peaking.”

[lucy-b091]

" -everything will be okay " { Aaay! }

OOC://AAAAY :D// It was all so fast… Plasma fire and bullets had whizzed and flew past overhead reminding her of an almost colorful rain. In the midst of the chaos Spartan-B091 had found herself taking cover behind a large piece of broken debris.  Her heart had pounded in her ears, breath coming out in short gusts. In the midst of the hellish nightmare occurring, she had been shooting at jackals and grunts. Watching as their neon and many soldiers’ blood stained the dirt they fell on. Lucy had aimed for yet another target when she felt a burning pain in her side. With her adrenaline keeping her going she hadn’t even noticed the wound. Stopping only when a concerned marine yelled at her over the COM system when she was in cover. Just as quickly as she had fallen into this battle she blinked slowly as she sat against the wall.. Nothing. There wasn’t any contiuned noise of plasma fire or bullets.. Instead the silence that had fallen in the aftermath was much more un comforting.. 

She looked to her left to quietly peer at the remaining soldiers. Some of them we’re sitting themselves and talking to either each other or patiently waiting for the pelican to arrive since the all clear was given.. They kept quite a distance from her not that she minded it she didn’t mind being by herself.. At least this way it provided her a well enough spot to keep an eye on them..She looked down at the empty contained of bio foam that laid discarded near her.. At least this would hold her together until proper help arrived. Dust off would be in exactly an hour. In the meantime shaking hands reached up to slowly pull of her helmet. Sighing as the helmet let out a depressurized hiss of its own, she leans her head against the cool brick of the wall. She continued to shake as the adrenaline was finally leaving her system. Just as soon as she had begun to rest her head that was when a new wave of pain settled in her temples.

Lucy let out a quiet groan and grit her teeth together. No doubt from the intensity it was a concussion.. She had gotten one back in boot when defeated in a hand to hand match.. All she remembers of that was pain and the all too familiar ringing in her ears.. She reached up with a shaking gloved hand to touch the center of her forehead. Momentarily feeling the pain worsen she ended up pulling back her hand rather quickly. Looking down at it she had sighed when seeing the all too familiar crimson cascaded onto the gloves. She simply decided the rest her head against the cool bricks once more.. Not even caring as she felt a steady dripping from the warm crimson drip off of her chin..  

Bright brown eyes scanned the area before they widened when hearing an unfamiliar voice.. “Everything will be okay..” It was surprisingly gentle and calm.. A reassurance of sorts. She immediately tried to rise to her feet and shook once again as she rose to her full height. She was confused, why were they trying to reassure her.. She tried her hardest to mask her confusion under her usual ice calm military stare.. Lucy had heard it once before.. She shook her head as she heard a deeper male’s voice repeat the same words. The lieutenant commander himself had uttered the words and gentle reassurances after she had attempted to train all by herself at night resulting in the breaking of one leg and the dislocation of her other foot. He had been muttering it to her as she had been carried to the medical bay.. No. She shook her head quickly despite the pain that followed suit. There was no way Ambrose was here, whoever the hell this person was she was going to find out if they were a friend or foe.. She bared her teeth despite her shaking.