#Halifax Weather

[jadethhh]

The Piece Hall, Halifax, Yorkshire.

[mycenaae]

wah i missed halifax so much ............. walked around a bunch this afternoon and then immediately fell asleep when i got back to the hotel but i love this place.

[newsbites]

News from Atlantic Canada, 29 May.

Halifax declared a state of local emergency late on Sunday after a wildfire caused evacuations and power outages.

2. Atlantic Premiers are calling for a delay of a new federal clean fuel tax set to come into effect on July 1.

3. MUN students have planned a rally outside the Arts and Culture Centre in St. John’s, NL, in support of including the Ode to Newfoundland at Memorial University convocation ceremonies.

4. Ontario-based Lawson Health Research Institute held a forum in Goose Bay, NL, to discuss their findings on health trends involving rural and remote homelessness.

5. St. John’s is hosting the Canadian Meteorological and Oceanographic Society’s 57th annual congress this week which will include a panel event—"Weathering The Storm"—on extreme weather events.

6. Teenager Kade Blakely, who has been diagnosed with a rare disorder called 22q11.2 deletion syndrome, is highlighting the shortage of blood donors in NL and across Canada.

[colgreen31]

North Dean Woods in December 2017 after a snow fall, view the image on Clickasnap at, https://www.clickasnap.com/profile/colgreen31/photo/01FQXJP2WGG5KCA2Q1BGAVV1EG

[peterbromley]

It’s the first snowstorm for this part of the world today. So It’s time for tulips, don’t you think? . . #novascotia #snowstorm #atlanticocean #tulips #beauty #flowerstagram #flowers #eastdover #halifax #weather #friday (at East Dover, Nova Scotia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnpJswduB6H/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[apod]

2024 August 16

Meteor Borealis Image Credit & Copyright: Jason Dain

Explanation: A single exposure made with a camera pointed almost due north on August 12 recorded this bright Perseid meteor in the night sky west of Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. The meteor's incandescent trace is fleeting. It appears to cross the stars of the Big Dipper, famous northern asterism and celestial kitchen utensil, while shimmering curtains of aurora borealis, also known as the northern lights, dance in the night. Doubling the wow factor for night skywatchers near the peak of this year's Perseid meteor shower auroral activity on planet Earth was enhanced by geomagnetic storms. The intense space weather was triggered by flares from an active Sun.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap240816.html

[malk1ns]

october 16 2024 @ flames, 4-3 S/O loss

D/s

Geno doesn’t like bringing his collar on road trips.

It’s something they fought over Geno’s rookie year, in the little apartment they rented when their first fumbling scenes got too embarrassing to do where either the Gonchars or Lemieuxs could hear them. Sid remembers brandishing the collar he’d gotten custom-made at Geno, who would cross his arms and sneer and spit out condescending-sounding Russian that Sid had no hope of understanding at the time.

Sometimes those fights ended in a fun way, Geno draped over Sid’s lap as Sid smacked his ass red and Geno rubbed himself off. Sometimes it ended in icy silences, Geno sealing himself away in the second bedroom they’d started to turn into a playroom but mostly was just an assortment of half-unpacked boxes surrounding the big four-poster bed and Sid pacing the hall muttering angrily to himself, rehashing the argument over and over in an attempt to win.

They’d been told they were a natural fit, the best way to ensure Geno’s smooth transition from Russia to the US. And their preferences certainly lined up in the bedroom, no problems there. But they both were cocky, headstrong teenagers, elite athletes used to getting their way, and even the natural harmony that is supposed to exist between a Dom and their sub can’t always smooth that away.

Now, though, Sid understands more about why Geno wouldn’t. He’d had so much to prove back then, that he was worth the effort and expense the Penguins were spending to keep him in America, and Sid had his own reputational issues in the league; in the end, it was better that Geno didn’t flaunt his collar in enemy arenas, didn’t make himself a target for hostile crowds and unfriendly local media.

They’ve turned it into a little bit of a game by now, too; the tease of Geno’s bare neck, the way Doms approach him in bars and at restaurants even if Sid’s right next to him because he looks unclaimed and Geno pretends to entertain them until Sid swoops in and takes back what’s his, the way the longer trips set them both on edge and eager to make up for the lack when they get home.

Sid’s happy with the arrangement. Relationships are about compromise, something they’d learned the hard way together those first few seasons, but Sid believes it’s made them stronger, able to weather storms that he’s seen break other couples. It had pricked at his pride for years even after he’d understood intellectually why Geno felt he needed to go without on the road, but now it’s just another one of the quirks that Sid loves so much about him. Geno drives too fast, he’s always late to video review, and he won’t wear his collar on the road. It’s just who he is.

Geno’s changing things, though.

The hats had been a fun introduction. Sid enjoys the scandalized looks he draws whenever he goes out in public with Geno’s name on him, likes the way Geno gets puffed up and smug and needs to be taken down a few pegs when they get home. And Geno’s so obviously proud of the collection. Sid remembers the first game after the hats had started shipping and they showed up in the crowd at PPG—Geno had talked about it all night, chattering on the drive home and all the way into bed.

Sid hadn’t expected much to come of the hats with his name. They sold well, he thinks, and Geno had sent him some pictures modeling one to get Sid worked up over the summer, but after the Halifax trip last year Geno put his Sid hat away, and that was that.

This season is different.

The first time Sid assumed it was an accident. They were running late for the plane, hurriedly packing enough for their mini-swing up into Canada and back home, and Sid figured Geno grabbed the wrong hat when he noticed Geno cramming the Sid hat on for his media scrum after the Red Wings game. He’d ignored the little thrum seeing his name on Geno’s clothing sent through him.

Now, though, it can’t have been a mistake. The western Canada trip is long, and Geno always starts packing well in advance to make sure he doesn’t forget anything; there’s no way he grabbed the wrong hat by accident this time.

Sid doesn’t say anything after the Winnpeg game, but after Calgary, with nothing the next day but sleeping in and piling on the bus to enjoy Banff with the guys, Sid can’t hold back anymore.

He stops by Geno’s locker on his way back from the cooldown room, lowering his voice so the waiting media can’t hear him. “Nice hat, bud,” he says, tapping the brim of Geno’s cap.

Geno smirks up at him, tilting his head to expose his bare neck. Sid purses his lips and turns back to the media gauntlet awaiting him.

Geno doesn’t wait for him. He never does in Canada; Sid’s media always goes unreasonably long, and if Geno hovers in the hallway someone invariably waylays him and tries to force him into giving an unscheduled interview. It doesn’t matter how many sharp words Sid’s directed at the media outlets that his sub is not to be bothered when he’s not on the schedule—the Canadian media is voracious.

Sid finds him in the hotel bar instead, tucked in a corner booth and laughing at something Ricky said. Sid watches them for a minute, and the weight of his gaze must be prickling at Geno’s neck, because he turns and finds Sid almost immediately.

Sid can see Ricky rolling his eyes as Geno gets up with barely a goodbye, beelining to Sid. He’s still got the hat on.

They’re quiet in the elevator up to the room, but as soon as the door clicks shut Sid’s got Geno pushed against the wall. Geno instinctively slouches down, widening his legs so Sid can step between, getting them as close as possible.

“You reconsidering that collar on roadies, eh?” Sid says, curling one hand around Geno’s throat and squeezing gently. Geno’s eyes flutter, and Sid can feel him swallow. “Sure seems like you want everyone to notice my name on you this year.”

“Just Canada,” Geno says, voice going low and dreamy like it does when Sid gets hands on him with intent. He slips under so easy for Sid. “They’re talk so much, say you’re leave next year, want to come play here, win with some other team—but they wrong.” His eyes lose a bit of their daze as he stares at Sid. “They wrong, and now they know for sure—you’re mine, you’re stay with me always. You’re let me wear your name, no one else.”

The fierce possessiveness in his voice is shocking, transgressive in a sub, and it gets Sid hard. He leans forward and nips at Geno’s jaw, relishing the way Geno yields to him, softening his body and inviting Sid in to do whatever he wants.

Geno wants Sid to be his? Sid can do that. He can tie Geno down on the bed and snap on a cock ring and ride him until Sid’s come as many times as he wants and Geno’s crying for release, and he can let Geno come on his face and make him clean it up after.

He’ll just have to make sure to put the hat somewhere safe first. Geno won’t forgive him if it gets dirty.

[starbabyg]

Swiss Pastries and Friendship Renewals | Nico Hischier

For Demi from your Hockey girlies discord fic exchange bb 💞💞 @wyattjohnston I’m actually making you a mini series bc I love this idea so muchhh and I have this whole plot in place I hope you don’t mind!!

Plus as a bonus here’s a whole playlist for youuu!! 💗💗

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ ₊✮⸜ ༘

2019

It was autumn in New Jersey, the weather had gone cold and the leaves were starting to turn auburn. Nico watched people through the shop windows as he walked home. Families shopping for the holidays. Couples laughing as they bonded over fondue and pumpkin spiced cocktails. He thought it was sweet seeing people happily living their lives. He came upon a small coffee shop, looking through the window and seeing someone he knew looked familiar. He could only see her side profile, but in his bones he knew he had seen the girl before. The oh so familiar girl leaned a bit over to grab something out of a bag perched on her shoulder, and Nico knew that it was who he thought it was. Nico made his way into the shop, a new sense of excitement flurrying through him.

“No freakin’ way, Demi?” He came up behind her, a large smile plastered on his face. It had been a while since he had seen anybody from up north, he had only spent a short while there but the memories were still fresh in his mind.

“Oh my god, Nico!” Demi immediately brought him in for a hug, remembering that soft face of his, that smile that he had always adorned. “I haven’t seen you since you left for the states!”

“It’s been a couple years now huh, this is the first time I’m seeing anybody from Halifax. God that group was wild. How is everybody?” Memories of that small Canadian town started to flood his senses. The little bits of nostalgia giving him a sense of glee.

“Yeah, our little group really was something, huh. Everybody is doing their own thing. Stacy and Jonah have a kid now. Yeah, they’re still together. Miles moved to Toronto. You know, everyone just in different places doing different things. I haven’t been that in touch with them either. The old times were good though,” she smiled as she reminisced.

Nico saw the look on Demi’s face, a tad bit somber as she was deep in thought. He felt a bit bad. “How bout we catch up over some coffee and pastries? It’s been a while and you were always my favorite.” Smelling the scent of coffee and what smelled of sweetly burnt sugar, Nico could not resist the temptation of a warm drink on that chilly day. The pastries encased in the display window were no help either.

“That is such a lie Hischier, we were not as close as you were with Evan. Or even Julia. Which, by the way, was that all about? I never got the full story,” she joked, scanning the menu although she already knew what she was going to order.

“Oh? Julia? She was a nice girl, she just used to come off very strong. I didn’t really know how to let her down easy,” Nico scratched the back of his neck as he thought about each awkward encounter after the other.

“That’s Julia, always going after what she wants. I’m a little surprised you didn’t date her though, she was one of the prettiest girls in town.”

“I just liked another girl, that’s all. Julia wasn’t my type,” he shrugged as he walked up to the front counter, “what do you get from here? I’m not much of a coffee guy.”

“I got you,” Demi placed her hand on Nico’s shoulder as she turned towards the barista, “Can I get two caramel brûlée macchiato’s and two apple caramel strudels?” Demi began shuffling through her bag again, pulling out her card, as she attempted to hand it to the barista Nico swiftly snatched it out of her hand. Instead placing his card in the barista’s hand.

“Still fast as ever, huh Hischier,” Demi shook her head as she led Nico to a table in the corner. The coffee shop was tranquil, a good handful of customers murmers living up the joint as some soft holiday music played in the background. The lights were warm and cozy, a bright shade of copper that lit the couple’s faces up. Overall just a nice and homely vibe that Nico could get used to.

“You know me,” he chuckled, pulling her seat out for her to sit, “So what brought you to Jersey out of every state?”

Demi shrugged, “Just more opportunities. Close to New York City. Close to my folks who never left Halifax. I really don’t know if I’m going to be honest.” The question came as a bit of a shocker. Demi herself had never really asked herself why she came to Jersey. It had just happened.

“And how’s it going for you out here?”

Demi thought for a second. Career wise, it wasn’t where she wanted to be. She wanted to fib just a bit, just to make the situation sound a bit better for her, but it was Nico and she felt no reason to lie. “Honestly less than satisfactory. I’ve been doing freelance gigs for this company but I’m not passionate about my work. It’s just being an errand girl for people who aren’t the nicest. The pay is measly compared to cost of living. Lately it’s just work, eat, like thirty minutes of actually doing what I want to do, then sleep.”

“So what do you really want to do?”

Demi was taken aback just a bit, “It’s been a while since I’ve been asked that. I’ve always liked writing. Something in journalism perhaps. Maybe write a book or two. I just want the freedom to be creative with my work.”

“Makes sense, I remember you used to work on the school paper! I used to read your little opinion column!” Nico remembered and pointed his finger excitedly. He could still remember the little pieces, always marked by the ‘written by senior editor Demi’ in little letters under the title.

“No way you used to read my writing Hischier,” Demi felt a bit bashful, covering up her blushing cheeks. “I used to try to hide the paper from the group because I was too embarrassed for them to read it. You know how they got with teasing.”

“Don’t know why you were embarrassed. Your writing was really good, funny too.” Nico was a bit surprised by her reaction. Demi had never been one to be shy or even embarrassed. Always holding up a headstrong attitude even when the group was in major trouble.

“Awe, why thank you Hischier. I appreciate that. I wish I could write more now, but juggling these gigs and trying to solidify an actual career out here, it’s just impossible I wish there was something—”

“Order for Demi,” interrupted by the barista, Demi got up for their order. Nico watched as she got up and interacted with the barista, the two of them having a small conversation that ended with laughter. Somehow she was glowing underneath the tungsten lighting. Turning around with tray in her hand, Demi carefully made her way back, cautious as to not spill the two piping hot drinks.

“Okay, this spot has the best fall drinks and the most authentic Swiss pastries in Jersey. I remember you always came to school with a homemade apple strudel, so I had to see you try this one. It’s like fall in a pastry. Apple, caramel, with powdered sugar on top. It’s to dieeee for.”

Nico smiled as he listened to Demi describe the order. It was very thoughtful of her to remember his old favorite school snack all these years later. Watching her place the order down, an idea sparked in his head.

“So first you gotta try the strudel, savor it. Then after try it again and take a sip of your macchiato after.” Demi rested her chin in her hands, just a little too excited to see how her old friend would like the goods from her favorite coffee shop.

Nico did exactly as he was told, lifting the strudel up and taking an ample bite. His senses were then filled with the sweet tang of baked apples, his tongue coated with the spice of cinnamon. Demi nodded, gauging his reaction that she knew he would most definitely have. Nico couldn’t believe that a strudel this good could actually come from a small shop in Jersey. It had tasted just like home. He then grabbed his Macchiato, about to sip it before Demi’s hand jerked it away.

“Oh my gosh, be careful. That thing is piping hot,” she chuckled as she saw Nico’s eyes bulge up. He set the coffee cup down and leaned over to blow it gently. “I know it smells good but you gotta wait a couple minutes so it doesn’t leave your tongue burnt for the rest of the day.”

“You just saved me. I was being a bit hasty huh,” Nico shook his head as he felt a bit bashful. He watched as the cream swirled in the coffee every time he blew into it.

“I’m literally your savior Hischier,” Demi gave him a cheeky wink.

“That means you haven’t changed much from school. You saved everyone’s asses. Always got us out of trouble. Always saved us right before we coulda died. That’s why you were my favorite, you were always the coolest of the group,” he laughed. Now thinking of all the high school shenanigans, all of the times they were yelled at by adults. Caught trespassing. With every time Demi having to mediate and bargain with authority.

“Mmm, makes one of you,” Demi pursed her lips. Her mood shifted a bit as she took a long sip of her macchiato.

“Huh, what d’you mean?” Nico sat there clueless.

“You know everyone else in the group had their closer bonds. Everyone grew up with each other. And I had just moved from Australia the year before you came. They liked me cause I was different and it was a small town, but they didn’t bother to get close to me like they were with each other. And they were all kind of assholes if I’m being real,” Demi shrugged. “Which is why I’m working my ass off out here cause I refuse to go back. I don’t even care if I have to work all day as long as I don’t have to go back there.”

Nico got quiet, only murmuring a little ‘oh’ under his breath. He truly did not know what to say. Just watching Nico sit there in his thoughts, Demi placed her hands on the table. She hated an awkward moment. Couldn’t stand them.

“So how ‘bout some Brunsli cookies? They actually import chocolate from Switzerland and they taste sooo decadent. Just like the chocolate your mother brought you to school that one day. Speaking of your mother, how is she?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Moved back home so I don’t get to see her much except for the off season. She sends me stuff from back home all the time. Especially those chocolates. I can bring you some if you’d like.”

Demi’s eyes lit up, “Really? Those are literally the best chocolates I have ever tasted. You would be a godsend giving me some.” Her mouth started to water at the thought of those chocolates, how they just melt in your mouth. The rich flavor that was better than any American chocolate.

“Of course. You don’t know how many boxes I have in my apartment. My kitchen counter is covered with them. I barely have time to eat them let alone put them away,” Nico jokingly sighed as he pictured his kitchen counter that was literally covered in Läderach and mom- and - pop shop made chocolates.

“Ohhh let me come over to your place and those chocolates will be goneeee. But really, I can help you organize those chocolates and put them away— if you need some assistance.”

“I could use a lotttt of assistance. My life has been hectic for a while now and having those stacks of chocolates out of sight is one less thing to worry about. I’ll even give you all the chocolate from my stockpile that you want.” Nico just

“I mean, I’ll take the chocolates. But I would have done it anyway. You’re my friend. Why wouldn’t I help you out any way I can?” She smiled and took a bite of her pastry, crumbs falling down the sides of her mouth which Nico thought was adorable.

Nico couldn’t help but look at Demi with the admiration he used to look at her back when they were in secondary school. “Honestly people like you are very hard to come across. You surely are a rare breed out here Demi. Nobody is selfless like that anymore. Always asking what’s in it for them.” Demi was like a breath of fresh air to Nico.

“Well duh. It’s Jersey. Everybody out here has a bad attitude,” she rolled her eyes in a joking manner. Although she hoped no native New Jersians heard that because they would surely give her an earful.

“You aren’t wrong,” Nico chuckled and shook his head. He couldn’t help but think about the endless encounters he had faced with rude fans, people in public, and especially people in the industry. It had honestly started to take a toll on him.

“Well you sure are lucky to have found me again huh. The sweetest, kindest, most nicest person in the world,” Demi teased in a sing songy manner. She batted her eyes in the most obvious way. Nico thought she looked like a Disney princess.

Nico just looked at her with admiration, “Why don’t you be my assistant,” he absentmindedly said. “Er— only if you want to. It’s not like you need to—”

“Hischier, Hischier. Calm down. Let me hear you out before you get all anxious on me,” she placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder.

“I’m just saying. It could be beneficial for the both of us. My last assistant was crap. Didn’t help me out in any way but was getting paid handsomely by the Devils. You need a better job. And more time to do what you actually want to. We can help each other out!”

Demi just sat there thinking. ‘It would be a better job than my shithole job. I don’t know about the pay yet but more time to do what I actually want to will help out with my career moves. And it’s just Nico. He’s not that bad. He’d be a better boss than my current one.’

“Okay. I’ll take the job.” She took the leap. Maybe this would be good for her. The change in pace might be just what she needed to get to the next step in her life. Any change in scenery would be better than Demi’s current situation.

“I knew it. It’s fine. I was just suggesting–” Again Nico started with his anxious rambling. If Demi didn’t stop him he would have went on until the coffee shop closed.

“Um, Hischier. Did you not just hear me? I said I’ll take it,” Demi knew Nico wasn’t the best listener but sheesh. How much in his head was he at the moment?

Nico formed a smile, “Oh? I made an offer you couldn’t refuse huh,” he poked at her, speaking in his best east coast accent. It was terrible, but Demi could never tell him that.

“Honestly I could’ve heard a better job pitch from a child. But you’re my friend and you’re cooler than my current boss so why not. I think we could benefit from each other as well. As friends.” But she could tease him still.

“Friends with benefits??”

“Ew, gross. Don’t be gross like that Hischier.”

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄

˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — nathan mackinnon x claus!reader 𝐰𝐜 — 2k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — when she took the reins as the world's chief claus, her father forgot to disclose one very pressing hidden clause in the job contract... 

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — my mom and i watched this trilogy on a loop when i was growing up, so it only felt right to take some inspo!! <3

Most children would give anything to have Santa Claus as their father.

They wouldn’t if they knew what you did now.

Your father withheld a crucial detail throughout your many years of training. Perhaps the most important stipulation of them all—you cannot be Santa alone.

“Whoever wears the coat takes on the duties and responsibilities of Santa Claus. In accepting the contract, the cardholder acknowledges that they must marry the partner of their choosing before their first Christmas in service to retain the titles, privileges, and residence of Santa Claus. Failure to do so will result in immediate de-Santification.”

You needed a partner. Someone to act as caretaker to the elves and the reindeer, and to watch over the Workshop and general operations on Christmas night while you fly all around the globe, the embodiment of the season's spirit.

Santa Claus wouldn’t—and couldn't—be Santa Claus, if not for their other half.

You suppose you should’ve known, should’ve worked it out sooner. So much of what made Christmas special was because of your mother, the previous Mrs. Claus. In his many years as Santa, your father made a point to remind everyone of that. She is the steward of the season.

While Santa Claus tinkers with toys and checks the lists, charts travel routes and weather patterns, and develops contingency plans to accommodate the ever-evolving technology, their spouse keeps spirits bright. Without help, the effort was pointless. 

So, you should have realized. But you hadn’t, and now it might be too late.

“I have to find a husband in 28 days. If I don’t get married before Christmas Eve, I don’t get to wear the coat. I’ll lose the title, and the reins my family has held for thousands of years will pass to someone else,” you rant, tone carefully hushed to not rouse the temperamental husky one backyard over.

Your breath plumes away from you, rising before dissolving into the chilly Denver air. It reminds you of a snow globe, a bittersweet one.

“Who?” asks Nate.

Nate, like most of the world, is a Mundane, a non-magical person. He isn’t the descendant of Cupid or Mother Nature. Or a Santa Claus like yourself. He’s just Nate. Nathan MacKinnon from Halifax. Nathan MacKinnon, who now resides in Denver, Colorado, for work. 

It's well past midnight, and you’re sitting on his back porch with your head hung low and one of your reindeer, Comet, is nibbling on his icy grass.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a glum shrug. “Normally, it would go to the next child in line. Since I don't have any siblings, I guess the Council of Legendary Figures will convene and select my replacement.”

Nate nods.

In his eyes, you can see him listing off the members in his head. Mother Nature, Father Time, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Sandman, Cupid, Jack Frost. To him, they’re mythical beings. Bedtime stories and folktales he was told as a child by the adults in his life. For you, they’re the closest thing you have to extended relatives.

And they butt heads like ones too.

“What will happen then? I mean, where will you go? Could you stay where you are now, just not as a Claus?” he asks.

“The North Pole is the only home I’ve ever known. All my family’s ever known. When the duty passes from one generation to the next, the predecessors remain in the village, but who knows if they’d get to stay if I fail to comply? It’s all in jeopardy now because of me.”

Nate lowers himself down onto the step beside you. He does his best to disregard the unpleasant feeling of his pajamas soaking in the snow, but you hear the wince.

With the snap of your fingers, the snow is gone, and his pants are completely dry. You’ve even warmed the concrete beneath him.

“Thanks,” he murmurs softly.

He doesn’t have to thank you; you’ve told him a million times. But he wants to. He can’t let you give without acknowledgment. Nate refuses to appear ungrateful, even for the little things that seem insignificant to you. Like vanishing snow or drying his pajama pants. 

Funnily, “Santa Claus” can feel like a thankless job. No one ever thanks you. They thank the persona, the relic. Nate wants you to know he’s grateful for your care and friendship, regardless of your occupation or magic.

Gently, he bumps his shoulder against yours. “You know there’s more than one person in a marriage, right?”

“Yes, but I haven’t exactly made an effort to find the other half of the equation,” you reply, deflecting. 

You always overtake blame. Nate thinks it might be your singular flaw. 

“I mean, it's hard because it's not like I can date like a normal person; my pool is small. And shallow. They either want me to give up the power entirely or give it to them instead. You remember what happened with Jackson Frost. All he wanted was the power his father failed to usurp. That should have been clear from the start. I guess I could see if Orpheus is still seeing the nymph Mother Nature fixed him up with. The whole narcolepsy thing, though not his fault, isn’t ideal, but the only other option is Val. And I’d rather not spend the rest of my life worried about flying arrows and jilted lovers.”

As the daughter of a Legendary Figure and soon-to-be one yourself, you haven’t had much time to date. Or even think about it, for that matter.

There was always a new wrapping paper to test for durability and shine or a machine on the assembly line that needed to be fixed before it broke any more dolls. Or a reindeer with a stomach ache refusing to fly. Or a fire in the kitchen that sets back cookie production by three weeks. Or a maniacal being with frigokinesis (the ability to manipulate snow) attempting to overthrow Santa Claus and assume control over the North Pole.

Crisis after crisis, all with very little personal time. That's why you opted for people who understood: the children of other Legendary Figures with dominion over their own holidays and cultural traditions. However, fraternizing with other magical beings comes with its own set of problems. For example, an ex-boyfriend and his father plotting to ruin your home, ancestral legacy, and a beloved holiday out of pure spite. 

“You’re forgetting someone.” Nate’s quiet voice yanks you out of the downward spiral.

“Who? Easter Bunny is our eternal bachelor who would sooner give up candy than have kids of his own, and Tooth Fairy’s kids are still, well, kids. Jack Smith recently took over as Pumpkin King after his father retired, but he’s not the nicest company. Especially when he’s drunk, which is, truthfully, most days. I guess I could look outside the Council, but —”

“Me. I’m talking about me. You forgot me,” Nate interjects with an impatient huff.

“What?” you blink in disbelief, assuming you misheard him.

There was no way he was throwing his hat into the ring. 

“I could be Mr. Claus. If you’d have me.”

Your face melts. If you'd have him? It wasn't even a question. 

“Nate, I could never ask that of you. You would have to leave everything—everyone, behind. You would have to give up a career you love and have worked so hard for. Not to mention abandoning all the friends you’ve made along the way. You would have to lie about where you live and who you married to—and what she does for a living for the rest of your life. Nothing would ever be normal again. I’m tethered to the North Pole, but I won’t lock you up there with me.”

“I’ve been dreaming about the North Pole since I was a kid. Long before you nearly knocked over my family’s Christmas tree and had to make it up to me with a ride around the block on Comet,” he says with a chuckle.

You snort, recalling the fire you almost started the first time your father ever brought you along for deliveries. You weren’t allowed down a chimney for a few years after that, but the friend you gained was worth the punishment. 

You take Comet to visit as often as you can and have been for years. He leaves out your favorite cookies on Christmas Eve, and you always save his house for last so you can spend the last hour of the season with your favorite person. 

But you always imagined a day would come when he finally grew up and stopped needing Santa Claus. For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve been planning for a broken heart.

You sniffle. Nate takes your hand in his.

“Knowing you—loving you has put that dream within grasp. You wouldn’t be locking me away because I’d go willingly. Happily. All I’ve ever wanted for Christmas is to go to the North Pole with you. To see where you grew up and meet all the people who made you as wonderful as you are.”

“Why have you never said anything?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t be able to. “Only elves, reindeer, and Clauses,” remember?” Nate smiles, mimicking your father’s response to a ten-year-old Nate’s innocent request. He even does the jolly belly laugh, which warms your heart. “Bernard wouldn’t even let me past the hanger if the sleigh didn’t toss me into the Atlantic first.

But in all seriousness, I didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position with your father again. Or with yourself. I know how much the sanctity of Christmas means to you. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to show me something that would feel like intruding on the magic to you.”

All Nate has ever wanted for Christmas is for you to show him your home. All you’ve ever wanted is Nate. The only gift your father couldn’t make and the elves couldn’t build. In all her festive glory, even your mother couldn’t put what you truly wanted under the tree, though not for lack of trying.

Nate was the only person who could give the present of his presence, but you’d always been too fearful to ask, too worried he didn’t feel the same.

But here he is, crouched on a step in the middle of the night watching a reindeer chase a moth like a cat, telling you he’d give up everything to stand by your side. 

For you to be Santa Claus.

“Are you sure?” you ask apprehensively as if he were an animal you didn’t want to spook. “Sometimes we say things in the moment that we don’t really mean. Especially when someone flew 3,000 miles on a reindeer to throw a pity party in your backyard. You can take it back, and I promise nothing will change. No hard feelings whatsoever. I’ll still come and bring Comet to visit as often as possible. And you’ll stay on the Nice List, don’t worry. I wouldn’t even dream of —”

Nate cuts you off with a kiss. Sweet and perfect, and full of promise. The kind of kiss you dream about as a little girl, wondering what your Prince Charming might be like when he finally arrives. And tonight, yours did.

Albeit, the cape was missing (you preferred flannel pajamas anyway), and he hadn’t ridden in on the back of a mighty steed (you crash-landed on a reindeer-back, if that counts), but it was magical all the same.

“Wait!” you burst, abruptly pulling away. “What are you going to tell your parents? ‘Hey, Mom and Dad. Yeah, no, everything’s great. I just quit my job, sold my house, and moved to an undisclosed location—all without warning. No reason to worry!’ Somehow, I don’t see that going over all that well.”

“We can tell them we’re in Alaska and that you’re a toy maker," Nate casually supplies. He sounds like he's talking about the weather or what he had for lunch, not a life-altering cover story. "You couldn’t leave because your workshop is there, so I decided to move to be with you. People move all the time, especially to be with their fiancés.”

Though your heart flutters at the title, worry still hangs low over your head. You know how much he loves his family; you can’t bear to be the reason they’re separated indefinitely. 

“But when I find a way for them to visit, how would we swing that? The sleigh is big, but it's not airplane-big. Curtis is a master of disguise, but even he couldn’t make the sleigh look less like a sleigh.”

“Doesn’t Sandman owe your dad a favor?” Nate winks.

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[handweavers]

what do you think of halifax?

i think the city is beautiful but it has a past and present predicated on suffering, to put it simply, and i don't think it's navigating that well. the ambient experience of walking around and existing here is far more pleasant than toronto, in the sense that people are a lot more friendly and kind, the weather is cooler, and being near the ocean is soothing. i appreciate how diverse the city is, that was a pleasant surprise. i hate how much navigating the downtown core requires walking steep uphill. i like the architecture and how old a lot of the buildings are, but simultaneously this 'oldness' is a result of halifax being one of primary landing points for the colonization of the country. the land that halifax sits upon - kjipuktuk - has been a sacred site for the mi'kmaw people for thousands of years, and now it is covered in shipping container cranes and gentrified gastropubs and atlantic superstores. i've been to a few historic sites and museums in the area and it's fascinating seeing how the canadian state limply tries to acknowledge these crimes while reifying itself, like referring to colonial settlement as 'immigration' among other things, and continuing this history of violence through the intense gentrification halifax is experiencing at the present.

many older people i've spoken with have said it has changed drastically in the last 20 or so years, and the overwhelming amount of construction at the moment has made a lot of the city inaccessible. it's also facing a lot of the issues i've seen elsewhere across canada, ie. increased monopolization and the closing down of local businesses because they can't afford to stay open. walking near the waterfront or in the historic district, a lot of the ground is being torn up to build high rises and tourist traps. it's unearthing a lot of iron and clay deposits, among other things, and i think a lot about how the mi'kmaw used to bury their dead here before white people came. there's something deeply sinister about this, and i'm trying to find ways to navigate that as a visitor.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

After one week of battling a historic wildfire that destroyed about 200 buildings and caused thousands to evacuate in the Halifax area, officials say the blaze in Tantallon is now 100 per cent contained.

Nova Scotia announced in a release on Sunday that the wildfire isn’t entirely extinguished but is currently under control and no longer expected to spread.

In a press briefing on Sunday afternoon, Nova Scotia Premier Tim Houston announced that weather conditions have led to a lifting of a province-wide ban on activity and travel in the woods, which will come into effect at 12:01 a.m. on Monday. The burn ban remains in effect.

Full article

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[virtchandmoir]

May 10, 2024

“It’s definitely a bit of a rollercoaster. It’s a tour definitely mixed with some reflection of previous tours and how I remember it,” the 33-year-old Chan says on a day off from Toronto, before the SOI cast headed off to Regina for a show on Thursday night. “I saw Scott (Moir) in London, he came to the show … just hugging him and talking with him, I got really emotional for some reason. It brought back a flood of memories of what it was like touring with Scott and what that meant to me. And the memories we made and the things I learned, the stupid things we did … just everything came rushing back. “We went through the juniors together and all the way to the top. I have moments like that where I just reflect and reminisce a lot on how things used to be. But at the same time, I miss my family, I miss my wife (former pairs skater Elizabeth Putnam), I miss (his son) Oliver a lot … I think I’m stepping away at the right time, considering where I am in my life and how hard being away from my son for four weeks has been already. I knew it was never going to be easy; these types of decisions are always tough.” [...] “You know, this cast has changed a lot. It’s been a changing of the guard. I’m the only one left from back when Scott and Tessa were doing tours, and Eric (Redford) and Meagan (Duhamel) … I’m really the only one left. I do feel that. It is a pretty stark reminder every show,” he said. “It’s not such the case now, because everyone is still competing and everyone is younger. I connect the best with Deanna (Stellato-Dudek, the ageless 40-year-old who just won a World pairs title with Maxime Deschamps), actually, because I can just relate to her — we’re in similar places in our lives, and share a similar perspective.” [...] “It taught me the hard work, the dedication, putting your mind to something and finishing it and all that. Most importantly, it taught me how to be a professional, how to carry myself and hold myself to a certain standard. Being around other champions from multiple generations —you’re talking Elvis (Stojko), Kurt, also Scott and Tessa —they were all such successful individuals, but also different,” he said. “But at the end of the day, when it comes to being professional and showing up and doing your job correctly, we held ourselves to that standard. And then being a good person. Knowing when to have fun, when to be serious. And also, how to get through the struggles, how to figure things out when things aren’t clicking at 100 per cent. [...] “I didn’t get to go to university, I didn’t have that key development time (in my life). Scott was my guy, and all these other cast members. Andrew Poje and Eric Radford … all these skaters were more than just my teammates, they were my life and my social circle. It does feel like it’s all coming to an end and it’s weird that Stars is kind of marking that last chapter.” [...] “For me, Halifax always stands out. I always have really fond memories of Halifax, because it would be the end of the season, the weather was changing, and I’d sit by the harbour in Halifax and reflect on the season. And then I’d get really excited about seeing my friends and developing a show together,” he said. “Spending hours together on the ice, but also goofing around and finding that good balance of work and fun. Halifax was just such a great city to start in. And there were the bus rides and traditions that I try to keep going and pass onto the next generation, but I’m finding it harder to (do that). I’m not Scott. I realized that pretty quick.”

—rwbrodiewrites

[merelygifted]

The northern lights are coming to several states this week. Here's how to watch : NPR

...  The aurora borealis could be seen across parts of Washington, Idaho, Vermont, Wyoming, New Hampshire, Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota, Nebraska, Massachusetts, Maryland, Ohio, Wisconsin, Michigan, New York, [and] Maine, according to the university.

On Wednesday, the storm will be highly visible "low on the horizon from Seattle, Des Moines [Iowa], Chicago, Cleveland, Boston, and Halifax [Nova Scotia]."

On Thursday, the storm will get stronger and can be seen overhead in Minneapolis, Milwaukee; Bay City, Mich., and on the horizon in Salem, Mass.; Boise, Idaho; Cheyenne, Wyo.; Lincoln, Neb.; Indianapolis, and Annapolis, MD.  ...

...  The Space Weather Prediction Center says the best time to view the aurora is usually between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. local time.

You don't need any special equipment to see auroras.

Pick a spot where there is little light pollution.

Get to a higher elevation if possible.

Check the forecast for signs of clouds or precipitation, which could block your view.

Scan the skies...they can appear from all directions.   

[colgreen31]

Winter at River Calder, Copley

www.clickasnap.com/f02df8ea-2689-54f0-a603-b8c2f89d3c16/photo/01GVKBGQV8T5GPWBA30N0WN0FB Check it out on ClickASnap

[whencyclopedia]

Battle of the Ruhr

The Battle of the Ruhr or the Ruhr Air Offensive (March-July 1943) was a sustained bombing campaign by the British and the United States air forces against the industrial heartland of Germany during the Second World War (1939-45). The offensive included strikes against industrial cities and specific targets such as steelworks, armaments factories, transportation networks, and the Ruhr dams. Great damage was done to Germany's heavy industry, but given that production recovered and even increased, the battle is considered a draw.

Area Bombing of Germany

The Ruhr Valley area was responsible for 60% of Germany's industrial output. The area was such a tempting target it had already been attacked in May 1940, but only by a small force of around 100 bombers, which had not met with any great success. This time it would be different. The commander-in-chief of the Royal Air Force (RAF) Bomber Command was Arthur Harris (1892-1984). He firmly believed that the war could be won by bombing the enemy into submission, that is by smashing war-industry targets and civilian morale. Harris was given support at the highest level to try out the 'bomber's dream' of winning the war by air power alone. To make the dream a reality, Harris had at his disposal such four-engined heavy bombers as the Lancaster bomber, capable of carrying a bomb load of 14,000 lbs (6,350 kg), the Short Stirling, and Handley Page Halifax.

The thousand-bomber raid on Cologne in 1942 had shown what a large attack force could achieve. Such a number of planes, flying to the target in a single formation known as the bomber stream, could overwhelm the enemy defences – anti-aircraft flak guns and fighter planes like the Messerschmitt Bf 109, which patrolled the entire area that had to be crossed to reach the Ruhr. Bombers could not have a fighter escort over Germany at this period in the war given the limited fuel range of planes like the Hawker Hurricane and Supermarine Spitfire, and so the best cover for slow-flying bombers was darkness.

The RAF had tried precision bombing – hitting specific small targets – but these required more dangerous daylight operations (and clear weather), and, given the limited bomb-aiming technology of the time, the results had been very poor, most bombs dropping several miles from the intended target. Such were the difficulties, many planes failed to even find the target. The idea of area bombing (aka carpet bombing) was to have a central aiming point for the first bombers and then successive bombers worked their way outwards, either by intention or accident. Consequently, a large area of the target was more uniformly bombed. The 90-minute area bombing of Cologne destroyed some 15,000 buildings and 1,500 factories. In addition, the city's utility supplies and various transport networks were all severely damaged. There were 469 deaths, 5,000 people were injured, and 45,000 people were made homeless. With 41 aircraft lost, the RAF considered the raid a success. The strategy of area bombing by a large force could now be applied to the Ruhr Valley.

Continue reading...

[renlyslittlerose]

So my estranged grandfather passed away in the wee morning hours today. Seventeen years and one day since my Canadian grandfather died - which is very odd.

He wasn't what I would say was a good grandfather, nor a good father. He wasn't even a very good man. I started distancing myself from him around 2016, and was fully out of his life by 2018. He was verbally and emotionally abusive, enjoyed toying with people and their emotions, used people for his own personal gain, gaslit like it was his fucking job, and was generally neglectful to his duties as a father and a grandfather - especially to my sister and I. I can count on one hand the times he actually remembered my birthday when I was a kid, but even those moments were probably prompted by my mum or his girlfriend or his ex-wife.

But he had his moments, and I think I should say a few words about him and who he was.

He was born in a town in Hungary in 1935, near Lake Balaton. He was the youngest of the children, his brothers old enough to serve during WWII. During the war he talked about how he and his friends would go out to the abandoned battlefields and collect ammunition from the German and Soviet tanks, pile them in cow pastures, and set them off to scare the cows and other livestock. He said once school resumed after the war, a lot of kids came into class with missing fingers or even missing hands. He was lucky in that the only injury he received during his dumbass-ery was slicing his ass open on a destroyed German tank.

After the war he remained in the area, growing up with minimal education and helping run the household (his eldest brother had committed suicide shortly after the war was over). But in 1956, Hungary had their failed revolution in a desperate attempt to kick out the Soviet occupation. My grandfather wasn't part of the fighting, but he had enough sense to listen to one of the elders in the village who said that if they wanted to get the fuck out of Hungary and past the Iron Curtain, now was their time to run.

So he fled to Austria with some of his friends. They stayed in a refugee camp where he tried to learn basic English, before Canada accepted Hungarian refugees in 1958. So, along with some friends he'd made in the camp, he got on a boat and had a miserable trip across the Atlantic to the harbour of Halifax (he said that he could barely eat the entire trip because he was so sea sick). From there, he was put on a train that went across Canada, and he could get off on at any stop and just... start a new life.

It was, of course, the dead of winter when he and his friends arrived. Canada during the winter isn't pleasant - doubly so when you've come from the relatively mild Hungarian countryside. But one of his friends had family in Vancouver, and so he suggested they stay on the train all the way to the West Coast. Satisfied with this idea, my Papa agreed.

Only he made it as far as my home city in Alberta. You see, my city has this funky weather phenomena called a 'chinook.' Chinooks are when warm winds from the Pacific flow into the area and rush down the mountains and across the prairies, causing an inversion of air that rapidly warms up the city for a few days. We can go from -20C degree temperatures one day, to +15C the next. So when my Papa arrived in my city it was warm. Deceptively so. Ignoring his friend's suggestion they just continue on to Vancouver, my Papa decided to get off and start his new life.

The next day the train rolled out, and with it the freezing cold temperatures returned.

Despite it all he remained where he was. Life as a Hungarian refugee was tough. He knew very little English, and wasn't sure how to navigate life in a city that had developed past his home town in Hungary. He told me a story about trying to figure out how an automatic door worked, as well as trying to ask a store clerk where the bars of soap were, only to be taken to the canned soup aisle.

But as he learned English and adapted to Canada, he decided to sign up for architectural classes. He eventually got good enough at the gig that he became an expert in concrete as a building material, and helped to build one of the more iconic buildings in my city that is shaped like a saddle (which, if you know, you know).

In 1961, he and some fellow Hungarians decided to go to a dance at the local German-Canadian club where he met my German grandmother. She'd just moved to Canada, and had made the unfortunate decision to dance with the handsome Hungarian lad in the corner. Few months later she realized she was pregnant with my mum, and they got married before she gave birth.

Their marriage wasn't a happy one. But regardless, my Grandma had two more children with him before filing for divorce.

Growing up my Papa was always this strange, nebulous figure in my life. My sister and I were the eldest of the grandchildren, so we had to deal with his fumbled attempts at trying to be a grandfather when it was clear he didn't care. My mum would take us over to his house where they would argue the whole time, while my sister and I sat in the basement watching Jesus Christ Superstar on repeat. Gifts for birthdays usually came in the form of money, but I can remember the few times he actually bought me something. One time, he took me to the circus which ended up terrifing me because of the loud noises and bright lights. But instead of yelling at me or mocking me, he took me out of the show and bought me a teddy bear to sooth me. It was light brown with a white belly, with a yellow ribbon as a tie. I cherished that thing for a long time.

When I was old enough to carry a conversation, and he realized that I had an interest in ancient history like he did, we started chatting more. For a time it was fine. But then I realized that he liked to poke and prod and jab - liked to make people uncomfortable because it made him laugh. I would say something about my studies, and he would retort with something completely bigoted just to see me get flustered. I'll admit that I put up with it longer than I should have. The final straw was when I told him what my Masters studies would be on - how ancient Greek ideals on masculinity and male same-sex relations influenced the early German Gay Rights movement. His response was 'Good - show the world how your grandmother's people are a bunch of homos.'

He didn't believe what he was saying. He wasn't homophobic - unless he knew he could make it hurt. Which is almost worse, in a way.

After that I distanced myself. I didn't go to any family events he would be present at, and if I was forced to go I wouldn't speak with him. The last time I saw him was a few years ago when he was giving out cheques from his estate, under the assumption that he only had a few years left. I was surprised that I was even included, but then I realized that once again it was someone else in his life that had made sure I was looked after. This time it was my aunt.

I think the last thing I said to him was 'take care' or something along those lines. An impersonal greeting, one made out of social obligation more than anything.

I'm not sad about his passing, but I do worry about those who are left behind. My mother claims she doesn't care, but I know she still has lingering feelings - how could she not, he was her father, after all. My aunts are grieving terribly for a person that I never got to meet. Not really. My cousins who had a better relationship with him for the most part, are probably feeling the loss. And my sister, bless her, is worried for everyone else. His death will leave a crater in the family - one last 'fuck you' to his children, whom he loved to see fight over his affections and attention.

He had a lot of bad qualities, but some good as well. He was determined, he was curious, and he loved to learn. He was brave in the sense of leaving everything he knew behind just for a shot at something better. He had a good sense of humour (when he wasn't being a jerk), and I think deep down he did love his family. Just maybe not as much as he loved himself.

Nyugodjék békében Sandor 💕