#Yellow Cab in My Area

[texasyellowcabs]

Book Your Texas TaxiRide Now and Enjoy a Hassle-Free Journey

Visit - https://bigtexascabs.com/ 

[thatdisasterauthor]

Wildland Firefighters Deserve Fun Children's Museum Exhibits Too!

Why do the structure crews get to have all the fun, huh? Go to just about any children's museum and you're likely to find a little fire station or a fire truck, probably with some fun but flimsy costumes, maybe a fake fire hose to haul around or a toy axe. There's probably a mural on the wall of a cartoon burning building, complete with dalmatian. And kids love it! So many kids fall in love with the idea of being a firefighter at those exhibits.

But not once have I seen or heard of a similar exhibit for wildland firefighters. Possibly this is because most people don't realize that wildland firefighters and structure firefighters are not the same thing. Which is all the more reason to have an exhibit about it for kids, honestly! Let's start the learning young about what wildland fire is, how to stay safe from it, and what wildland firefighters do via an interactive, playful exhibit!

Since I work as a wildland fire dispatcher and study disasters, and I've designed museum exhibits before at other jobs, I figured this was an "I'll just do it myself" sort of scenario. And thus, my little wildland exhibit was born!

The idea behind this exhibit is to create a simple, semi self-directed play area for ages ~4-8 themed around a wildland fire scenario of protecting a small cabin from an approaching wildfire. It would have three main play areas: the Velcro Forest, The Cabin, and the Firetruck Climber, and there would be simple signage sharing facts about what wildland firefighters do and how they are different from structure firefighters.

The murals throughout the exhibit would be detailed, showing the diverse terrain wildland crews can work in, and also some of the support they get from aircraft like helicopters and slurry bombers.

Play Area 1: Firetruck Climber

The firetruck climber would be modeled after a Type 4 wildland engine, simplified into a kid friendly structure. It would have working lights that are non-flashing and low light for sensory safety, and the lights could be turned on and off from within the cab. Inside the cab is a dashboard with a toy radio, moving wheel, and two seats. Along the side of the truck is an interactive panel of pump controls, and a series of cubbies to store the play gear in the exhibit just like real wildland firefighters store their gear in their trucks.

The play gear would include costume yellow shirts, green pants, and boots just like what wildland firefighters wear, with an explainer that they wear very different gear than structural firefighters and don't use any portable breathing systems. Other gear would include toy Pulaskis (the wildland specific type of axe), toy hoes and rakes, and toy chainsaws.

Play Area 2: The Velcro Forest

One of the main techniques for fighting a wildfire is removing the fuel it needs to burn, and that's what the velcro forest is all about. It is on the side of the exhibit closest to the fire (but the fire is not moving directly at it! You never work in front of a fire!). The trees are plastic covered foam blocks held together with velcro so they can easily be knocked down and then "cut" apart with the toy chainsaws. There are also moveable foam bushes on the ground.

The ground mural would include a strip of brown where anything on the forest floor had been scraped away to dirt, to represent the technique of cutting line.

Simple signage would explain the concept of removing fuel and cutting line to help stop the movement of dangerous fires.

Play Area 3: The Cabin

The third play area is the cabin you are trying to protect from the oncoming fire. This area would primarily be focused around the concept of defensible space and how a home can be protected by clearing away landscaping and removing burnable items from areas such as porches.

Gift Shop

To carry the learning outside the exhibit itself, I'd love to the gift shop carry things like children's books about wildfire (though there aren't a ton to choose from, sadly), toy wildland firetrucks, wildland fire kids costumes, things in that vein.

--

So yes! Wildland firefighter based children's exhibit! I think it would be great fun, and serve as a good way to introduce children (and their parents) to the knowledge that wildland firefighters are very different than structure firefighters. Will this sort of exhibit ever actually exist? Who knows! But I sure think it should.

Subscribe on Patreon here.

[reddpenn]

Now that I'm back from the gem and mineral show, here are all the Cool Rocks I came home with!

A cute little coral fossil! He looks like a cauliflower.

A Keokuk geode! These geode beds aren't far from where I live, and it's always fun to have local specimens.

Phosphosiderite! This purple stone comes from Chile. It's so soft that it has to be stabilized with resin before it's cut. This one is a cross section of a botryoidial formation!

Speaking of botryoidial, this Hematite! Botryoidial means it has a bubbly shape kind of like a bunch of grapes. The faces of the bubbles on this pieces are super shiny and metallic.

Dendritic chalcedony, from Turkey! It's a white chalcedony full of dendrites - branching formations of manganese that look kind of like trees!

A cabochon for my cab collection! This one is made from a material sometimes called "ajooba jasper." The pattern is actually a cross section of a bunch of colorfully jasperized bivalve fossils!

Speaking of jasper, this one is Blue Mountain jasper, from Oregon! The circles in this stone are what’s known as an “egg pattern,” and jaspers which have them (Blue Mountain, Imperial jasper, and a few others) are collectively known as “fine jaspers,” the most valuable jaspers in the world.

Hyalite opal! This stuff forms water-clear spheres that look like jelly.

It fluoresces bright green under UV light!

Now to show off this year's haul of awesome agates!

Dryhead agate, from the Bighorn Mountains in Montana! This agate is named after the many bison skulls found in the area. A weird shaped guy with awesome red and orange bands.

Bou Lili agate, from Morocco! I like the name of this one. Soft banding and very subtle, muted colors. I've heard that this locale can produce peachy colors too.

Bear Canyon agate, from the Pryor Mountains in Montana! Agates from this locale have very stark black and white banding.

Red Fox agate, from Argentina! Sometimes this material is also called "crater agate" because the area it comes from is near the crater of an ancient volcano.

A Blue Sky thunderegg, from New Mexico! Thundereggs from this locale often have this two pointed, saucer-like shape.

It fluoresces really brightly!

Dulcote agate, from England! The bands of this agate are full of calcite, which gives them a strange, distinct texture.

Malawi agate, from Malawi! See all the cracks in it? Almost all Malawi agates have them. Frequent earthquakes due to the East African Rift cause these agates to crack and fracture.

Paint Rock agate, from Paint Rock Valley in Alabama! This agate is very rarely banded, and usually just contains swirls of red and yellow color.

A big, unpolished slab of Montana agate! This agate is known for its clear banding and black lines and spots, which are caused by manganese dendrites.

It's best viewed with some light behind it!

A smaller piece with really amazing dendrites!

Here it is backlit!

Fighting Blood agate, from Hebei Provence in China! This locale is known for its super saturated reds and yellows. This piece has purple amethyst crystals growing inside! They didn't photograph well; they are much more purple in person.

A really weird Fighting Blood agate! This one lacks the bright colors typical of this locale, but makes up for it with that super cool spiderweb pattern!

And finally, as is tradition, I came home with some Ethiopian opals! Here are the five I got this year.

And that's everything I got at the show!

[stclaretarot]

PICK A CARD ⭒ which ancestor is reaching out to you?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards · the high priestess, queen of wands, king of pentacles, page of pentacles

channelled songs · stand by me by wayv. gangsta luv by snoop dogg & the-dream. i will follow you into the dark by death cab for cutie.

hey there group one ♡ this is a paternal ancestor, a female ancestor from your father’s side. she is slavic, scandinavian or an indigenous person in this general area of europe.

sami, kurdish, and uyghur also come to mind.

this ancestor may be your father’s grandmother, or the grandmother of a grandmother for example.

because of this, this is likely not someone you have met -- though she has watched over you since you were born. no, since earlier. since before your conception. she has prayed and willed you into existence.

GROUP TWO

cards · the lovers, the world, nine of swords, six of pentacles.

channelled songs · bodak yellow by cardi b. restraint by florence + the machine. eternal sunshine by ambré & g-eazy.

hey there group two ♡ this is someone who died for love. suddenly, i keep thinking about the movies ‘bladerunner 2049’ and ‘mulan’. in both movies we see characters who are driven by love, who go on these grand journeys and fight these battles so much bigger than them all because of love. love in whatever shape or form.

this ancestor is someone who died at war. they may have been a general, for some of you, while for others of you they were a common soldier. they were likely drafted, or had a legal or familial obligation to fulfil, and the only thing that got them through this was the love for a woman.

he would sit up at night thinking of her, looking at the picture he carried around of her, and telling himself he had to make it out to get back to her.

this ancestor is likely japanese (specifically ainu), chinese, brazilian or cuban.

GROUP THREE

cards · ten of challenges, page of cups, ten of pentacles, the fool.

channelled songs · i’m that girl by beyoncé. que me quedes tú by shakira. just the lonely talking again by whitney houston.

hey there group three ♡ this is not really an ancestor… as, ancestor -- at least to me -- denotes someone who died many, many, many years ago. decades and centuries ago. but this person who is reaching out to you is someone who died fairly recently, as this is your father.

in life, your father may have been a man overburdened by stress and worry. he aged fast and young because of the hard life he lived, and died young because of it.

he had a lot of love for you and your family, and took a lot of pride in the life he was trying to build for you, but it was harder than he ever could have ever expected.

he had never been prepared for the harsh reality of life, but he did the best he could with the hand he was given.

GROUP FOUR

cards · queen of pentacles, king of pentacles, the devil, the magician.

channelled songs · a departue - audiotree live version by la dispute. the lady in my life by michael jackson. the bomb dot come v2.0 by sleeping with sirens.

hey there group four ♡ instead of just one ancestor, this is two ancestors who are reaching out to you. a pair of ancestors. soulmates. two people who lived together and died together; who gave their all to each other until the very end.

and then even after the end, in the divine realm as your guides watching over you.

they may have been star-crossed lovers, forbidden to be together by their respective families -- or by the culture and society in which they were born and in which they had to live. and so they ran away.

for some of you, this effort to run away was futile and they decided to take their lives, together, to end this once and for all. for others of you, they were able to get away and have their happy ending.

these ancestors may be from mexico, bosnia, greece. america especially during the antebellum period also comes to mind.

[yoohoofrankie]

SUMMONING ALL GHOSBUSTERS FANS

behold. a new au fic.

as promised, the first chapter.

pleeease tell me if you like it.

*SUMMONING NEW FANDOM*

Ghostbusters: ressurections on ao3 (by me!)

--------------------------------------------

CHAPTER ONE: New Beginnings.

The airport was loud- too loud. why is everything so loud? the textures, the colours, quick motions in her peripheral vision. it stung. 

It's so difficult to weave through the masses, hold your shoulder against theirs and push.

But she made it to the bagging area and snatched up her bags, just as quickly as she was snatched into the crowd again. push. into the corner she goes, down onto the floor she sits. 

---------------------------------------- [FRANKIE'S POV]

Red heels, green maxi skirt, auburn hair. approaching her.

"are you okay?"

A woman leans over me, looking at me with what seems to be a kind expression.

"what?"

I blurt out, snappig out of my hazy thoughts.

"you're on the floor. are you okay?"

She repeats.

"oh, uhm- im okay."

i nod, standing up abruptly. my face stings. was i crying? i can't remember. i force myself to look her in the eye. 

"its just a bit hot in here....hah..." 

i smile, and look away. the lady pauses, considering something, then grabs my hand and puts something in it.

"here. it'll help." "oh- uhm..i-" "yeah, just take it.       please." "oh...okay then."

i watch as she walks off, still processing what just happened. i look down in my hand. a lanyard? okay...    i sling it over my neck, and tuck it under the pale cream collar of my shirt. things have caled down a bit now. the airport seems less stingy. next step. get an uber.

cab?

taxi? what are they called in america?

-------------------------------------{timeskip.}

I settle into the taxi's back seat, the door thunking shut beside me like a period on the end of a too-long sentence. The driver - a man with wiry gray hair and a quiet, worn look - nods at me through the rearview mirror. 

"Where to?" he asks.

I pause and dig my hand into my bag, pushing aside the leather sections to get to a peice of paper. a job application. My fingers still feel so stiff. The lanyard brushes against my cardigan sleeve, nipping at one of the loose strands and pulling it loose.

hey. i liked that one. 

"Uhm...natural...natural history museum. New york."

He gives a grunt of recognition and pulls away from the curb with a kind of tired ease.

did you know new york was named in honour of the duke of york in 1669?  

it was established by the engli-

shut up.

The city swells around the taxi - billboards, horns, people with faces I can’t read fast enough. everyone looks the same anyway. same nose, same haircut. annoying But it’s quieter now. The cab hums along steadily, and I press my cheek to the cool window, watching the blur of storefronts and stoplights.

hey. stop. your face will go all lopsided.

oh- right. thanks.

it is nice and cool though...nevermind i feel dust!

i pull away and go back to leaning against the seat.

The lanyard. I tug it out from under my collar. It's a sunflower design - yellow petals on a greenstrap. There’s a little card inside the clear pouch, but I don’t pull it out just yet.

how did she know? has she met people before like me? I’m not sure if she knew what it meant to me, or if she just knew it would help someone feeling... like I was. 

My chest tightens - not in panic, but something else. Something like relief, maybe. The woman, the stranger, saw me. Really saw me. it feels nice. 

"you just move in?"  

the driver asks, eyes flicking toward me again.

"Yeah," I say, forcing the word out evenly. "i ust got off the plane."

"City can be a lot. But you get used to it."

please stop talking

I nod, though I'm not sure I believe him.

the car drives up to the museum steps, and i give the cabbie some money before stepping out into the open. american air isn't as humid as the uk is...

im still holding the job application.

go in. get the job. go to the apartment.

i walk up the marble steps and enter the museum. i smoothen the paper  on my thigh. its sticky from my sweat, and theres a stain on the corner.

professional.

The receptionist doesn’t even look up at first. Just clicks at her keyboard like the sound is more important than I am. fantastic. the grating sounf of a clacking keyboard is obviously so much more important than my super special needs!

“Interview?” I put in my charming voice.

Her eyes flick up. Scan me. Lanyard. Creased skirt. shitty cardigan. Paper in hand.

“Name?”

“Frankie.”

She types. Loudly. Every strike on each key feels like it lands in my spine and rings in my ears.

“third floor. You’ll see the signs.”

She waves vaguely to the left.

I nod. im sure if I should say thank you. I try, but it catches in my throat, so I just turn and walk.

The elevator is one of those older ones, with the metal grate. I hate them. I press the button and wait, shifting my messenger bag from shoulder to hand. the gate slams and i have to squeeze my eyes to orient myself

ding.

Third floor. I step out. Long corridor. Beige walls, framed photos of exhibits, old plaques. A sign:

→ interveiws.

I follow it. Shoes still too loud. I should’ve worn the quiet ones. Damn it. The hallway bends slightly, and then—frosted glass door. Appointments Only. This is it.

breathe.

I knock.

A pause. Then a soft voice from inside: “Come in.”

that voice is okay.

I open the door.

The room smells like coffee and printer ink. 

i spoke too soon.

A woman with big glasses and a tired-but-kind face looks up from her desk.

“You must be Frankie?”

“Yes.” I hand her the paper before she asks. “Sorry about the—uh—smudge.”

She smiles a little, takes it without comment.

“Have a seat.”

I do.

She reads for a second, flipping the paper over and back again, then sets it down and looks at me

“So you worked at the british history museum and the brighton aquarium?”

“Yeah. its nice. quiet. interesting.”

She nods. Jots something down.

“You listed experience with english history?”

“Yes. ... stuff like that.”

My mouth is dry. My hands are fidgeting again.

im ruining this

don't touch the lanyard

She glances at it anyway. The sunflower catches the light. She doesn’t ask. Just nods again, and moves on.

“You’d be part-time at first, possibly moving to full-time once funding is finalized. Is that okay?”

I nod quickly. “That’s fine. Completely fine.”

“And you’re just arriving in the city?”

“Got off the plane this morning.”

She looks a little surprised.

“Brave of you to schedule an interview the same day.”

not brave. emotion is a choice.

I do a  smile. “Seemed... efficient.”

Another small nod. She's scribbling something now, a corner of her mouth curved up like she's amused, but not unkindly.

“Alright. We’ll be in touch. Probably by the end of the week.”

I nod. Stand. Not sure if I should shake her hand or not.

She solves that by offering hers first. Her handshake is firm. Warm. 

ick- a smell. lavender. i can feel it in my throat.

I leave before I can ruin it with another word.

------------------------------[timeskip]

Back on the street, I blink in the sudden sunlight.

Done. That’s done.

Now the house.

I check my notebook. Third floor. Walk-up. Pre-furnished. “Vintage charm,” the listing said.

please just have a soft bed. and no smells.

A bus goes by, honking. A man yells into a phonebox . A group of americans laugh too loudly.

I pull the lanyard from under my collar and look at it again.

im keeping this.

[meabh-mcinness]

Chronicles of a Second Chance

Chapter 9: Not Another Teen Party

You weren’t a hundred percent certain what possessed you to get into the car when Sam was the one behind the wheel, but as you hurdled down the streets with the music blaring, you could only thank the fact you trusted Bumblebee to keep you from dying in a crash. 

“Samuel Witwicky if you get a speeding ticket or crash this car while I’m in it I will strangle you.” 

“Lighten up Nova! It’s not like I’m doing a hundred in a residential area.” 

“No, just eighty on a highway in a car you’ve never driven before and therefore don’t know it’s break time?” Or whether the breaks worked at all really since no one actually bothered to check under Bumblebee’s hood for any potential problems. Granted this wasn’t actually a car but Sam didn’t know that yet, did he? 

He blinked before nodding to concede you had a point, his foot slowly hitting the break and mumbling under his breath at you. You flipped him and then Bumblebee off as the radio suddenly changed stations and started playing a song about a mean woman. 

“Don’t think I won’t trade you in for parts to make a new scout!” You hissed at Bumblebee under your own breath, knowing damn well his audibles would pick up even the lowest of whispers from you as you kicked your foot out while pretending to stretch, “he needs to learn to drive properly.” 

Bumblebee made a sad warbling sound that could have been easily mistaken for the engine but made sure Sam stuck to the speed limit, making sputtering noises or forcing his gear shift and gas pedal to stick whenever Sam tried to sneak going faster. 

“See Nova? You made the Beast sad,” Sam tittered at you playfully. 

“The Beast?”

“It’s what I’m thinking of naming this beauty once I get him cleaned up - hey! Don’t laugh!” 

Even with his words you couldn’t help the laugh that left you at hearing the name, especially when you pictured Bumblebee’s face at being called that. 

“Yeah. You’re not naming anything ‘the Beast’ while I’m around.” 

“Oh yeah? And what would you name him since you’re so clever?” 

“Bumblebee,” you said automatically, “He’s black and yellow and his engine purrs sound like bees buzzing. Plus he’s a small car that packs a powerful punch given his horsepower.” 

“Bumblebee,” Sam repeated, mulling the name around his tongue as he pulled off onto an exit. Stopping at a light he looked around the cab thoughtfully, “I suppose that’ll do, for now .” Sam speak for ‘I like it but am too manly to admit it.’ 

“Sure Sam, whatever you say.” You placate him with a roll of your eyes, “Where are we going anyways? You just sped off once you got the keys.” 

“My place, I want to get dressed up for the lake party tonight.”

“Dude it’s a teen party at a lake , shouldn’t you be dressing down ,” you teased gently. Sam threw a look your way and you held your hands up in surrender. 

“Anyways I’m going to change clothes, we’re going to pick up Miles from that club of his and then we’re going to schmooze it up with the popular kids, and if I’m lucky Mikaela will be there and actually notice me.” 

“And that, that right there is why you get bullied.” 

“What? A man can’t want a specific girl to notice him?”

“More like no one says schmooze it up anymore, Sam. Well, no one but old people and the uncool kids.” 

“Shut it Nova, I don’t see you part of the popular gang either.” 

“Yeah, because I have a brain, besides I think I’ll keep talking. Torturing you is a fun pastime.” 

And if the radio suddenly spat out staticky laughter, Sam certainly didn’t hear it over his defeated groan. 

———————

If you hadn’t already been aware that a party was going to be held at the lake, the blaring music and loud laughter were obvious clues. Pulling up you noticed Prowl’s form already parked nearby. Considering Sam would have no problem kicking Miles out later so he could chat up Mikaela, you were pretty happy to have a backup escape option if needed. 

Although since you had no real interest in any of the others here, and with Sam and Miles going to be chatting up girls and pretending to be way cooler than they actually were, you might actually, voluntarily, spend your time with Prowl instead. He would certainly have more interesting conversations ready for you than whatever dribble the teens here were going to offer you. 

Harsh? Yes, but you also had spent several years with these teens and the only one that had any semblance of a decent character was Mikaela Banes and a few of her girlfriends. None of which you were really interested in talking to when a literal shapeshifting alien was the other option. When Mikaela was brought in on the secret in the future, then you would be more than happy to talk about cars and mechanics with her. 

For now, though you’d rather avoid the talks of shopping adventures, football games, and trash talking teachers to instead indulge in learning more about your favourite bots, science and perhaps more planning. You swore it was like some unseen force guided them to be the most generic people possible. 

Okay… so maybe you were a bit of a geek who needed to let loose a little. 

In your defence though, if the human characters had even half the character depth of even a fraction of Prowl’s personality, you wouldn’t consider talking with them a chore when you could be talking about literal aliens and saving the world. Who wouldn’t choose that over simple school talk you heard in hallways almost every day of the week? 

The music thumped louder as you pulled into a gravelly space at the edge of the crowd. Teens were already splashing around in the water, someone was tossing a football back and forth, and a small bonfire had been lit, crackling as the sun started to dip below the treeline.

“Alright,” Sam said as he turned the car off and looked himself over in the rearview mirror, “how do I look?”

“Like a guy hoping very hard to pretend he’s not nervous.” You smirked, popping your door open. “Fix your collar, and maybe Mikaela won’t mistake you for a mall mannequin.”

“Ha ha. Hilarious.” Sam adjusted his collar anyway and smoothed his hair, glancing toward the party like a soldier about to march into battle. You watched Trent throw a football back towards his friends before calling them over to watch the spectacle that was Sam pulling up with an actual car. You raised an eyebrow in Trent’s direction, a sharp smile appearing on your lips that even with the distance could be seen by the jock. Trent immediately turned away, cowed by your presence.

For now.

Bumblebee clicked and chirped softly, a reassuring sound only you would recognize as a subtle ‘you’ve got this.’ It earned the scout a small pat on the hood from you before you stepped away.

“You coming?” Sam asked as Miles jogged towards the coolers holding what you assumed to be drinks.

You waved him off. “Nah, I see a cop I’d rather spend my time with.”

Sam blinked. “Wait, what?”

But you were already gone, headed towards Prowl, who’s holoform was now leaning casually against the side of his alt-mode once he noticed you coming towards him—disguised perfectly as a nondescript cruiser nestled in the shadows provided by a nearby gazebo, far enough from the party to remain inconspicuous but close enough to intervene if necessary.

“You are aware you’re drawing just as much attention lurking like that, right?” you teased, leaning against the front bumper beside him.

“I am observing,” Prowl answered flatly, “Some of these adolescent humans are already engaging in reckless behaviour. It’s a wonder this society of yours hasn’t collapsed.”

You snorted. “We’re resilient, in our own stupid way.”

He didn’t argue, though his optics flickered in amusement. “You chose to join me, instead of your fellows. Why?”

You shrugged, folding your arms. “Figured you’d be less painful to talk to than high schoolers trying to one-up each other over cheap beer and thrills.”

“That sounds… primitive.”

“That’s because it is.”

For a moment, you both simply observed. Sam had already dragged over Miles, who was juggling sodas while trying not to trip over someone’s lawn chair. Mikaela was on the far side of the bonfire, talking with one of her girlfriends, and Sam looked like he was psyching himself up to approach her.

“Any news I should be aware of?” You asked as you climbed to sit on his hood. Prowl shot you a dirty glare as you made yourself comfortable but made no move to remove you.  

“Two hours ago, an Air Force one flight leaving from Frankfurt, Germany to Washington D.C had to make an emergency landing in Cleveland, Ohio due to an intruder on board hacking the national system and leaving behind a virus at the same time. The virus has luckily since been destroyed by me, but the intruder got away and several of the workers are dead. Killed, according to the records, by weirdly made shurikens from a material they’ve never seen before.”

“Cybertronian metal I presume?” 

“You presume correctly. My guess is Frenzy snuck on board while the plane was still in Germany, and someone happened to discover them while they were infiltrating. Just like you said they would.”     

“Which means most likely my vision of Barricade picking them up and currently making his way here is also likely to be accurate, isn’t it?” 

Prowl’s voice was grim. “Yes. Which is why you and the boy must remain close. Until the others arrive, it is my responsibility to ensure the information does not leave our control and that no harm comes to either of you.”

You glanced over at Sam. He had just finally worked up the nerve to talk to Mikaela—only to be blocked off by Trent pulling her away to drink. 

“Guess I better start learning how to properly babysit,” you muttered.

Prowl tilted his head towards your boys. “You already have.”

You let out a short laugh. “Thanks, Prowl. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

“Humour is a coping mechanism for discomfort,” he noted, ever the stoic observer.

“Yeah, and sarcasm is mine.” You grinned sideways at him. “You’ll learn.”

You sat on Prowl’s hood for a while longer, watching the teenagers laugh and dance beneath the growing dusk. The lake shimmered with reflections of firelight and neon glowsticks, and while it was far from your idea of a fun time, it had its moments. A firework shot up from somewhere near the shoreline—unauthorized and loud—causing Prowl to stiffen beneath you.

You patted his roof. “Just a firework, officer.”

“That is not an excuse for endangering others,” he muttered. “There are open flames, alcohol, and inadequate adult supervision.”

You smirked. “You sound like a PTA meeting.”

“I am sounding reasonable,” he said, but didn’t move to intervene. You knew he was only staying back because it wasn’t an actual threat. Yet.

The laughter carried on, and you caught sight of Sam again—he was standing awkwardly with a red plastic cup, eyes creepily laser-focused on Mikaela as she chatted animatedly with another girl. Miles had wandered off, possibly in one of the trees or finding someone equally unlucky in love to commiserate with.

“Are you recording audio?” you asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“You catching anything useful?”

Prowl’s eyes flickered towards you briefly before looking back. “Only that your friends are not the most graceful conversationalist.”

You snorted. “No kidding.”

The two of you fell into a silence that was… oddly comfortable. For an alien war tactician in disguise as a cop car, Prowl made a pretty solid conversational partner when he wasn’t lecturing. You leaned back against his windshield, watching the stars begin to poke through the darkening sky.

“Do you think the others will make it soon?” you asked softly.

“I believe so,” he replied. “The scout was preparing to send the signal of our location tonight. Optimus and the rest of his team are likely already en-route and will be here tomorrow night at the latest.”

That made your stomach twist with nerves. You’d thought about this moment for so long, anticipated it, prepared for it—but now that it was here? The thought of Megatron still frozen somewhere deep below Hoover Dam made you uneasy. And worse… the thought of how soon he might no longer be.

You rubbed your arms in hopes of fighting against the mental chill. Prowl noticed.

“Are you cold?”

“Just thinking.”

“Thinking does not lower body temperature.”

“No, I suppose it’s generally when you stop thinking that tends to do that.” You laughed, but it was thin.

Prowl didn’t respond with another witty remark like usual. Instead, he shifted his weight slightly, drawing your attention to the subtle tension in his frame.

“Something’s bothering you.”

“I do not like unknowns,” he admitted. “And too many pieces of this situation remain unclear.”

You could relate. You were walking a delicate tightrope—knowing too much for a normal human, not knowing enough to feel secure.

“Sam knows something is up,” you said finally. “He’s not dumb. Bumble’s going to have a hell of a time sneaking out tonight without getting caught.”

“He will succeed.”

You frowned, eyes following Sam as he attempted to talk to Mikaela again. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Prowl didn’t comment, already knowing where your thoughts were.

Down by the water, the party began to mellow. Someone turned the music down a bit, the crowd gathering closer to the bonfire. Sam was laughing at something Mikaela said—and you had to admit, despite his nerves, he looked like he was actually having fun.

“You should join them,” Prowl said suddenly.

You raised a brow. “Tired of me already?”

“I merely observe that you appear… distant. Detached.”

You hesitated. “I just—It’s hard to care about any of this when I know what’s coming. Besides, I’m not really a people person.”

Prowl gave a soft mechanical hum. “Still, you are young. You must allow yourself moments of… living.”

Was that actual encouragement from the resident rule-stickler?

“My moments of living are reserved for hobbies and people I actually enjoy.” You stretched to lay out, fully prepared to relax and potentially even nap on Prowl.

That is of course until Trent seemed to grow bold at the fact you were off on the sidelines, and finally confronted Sam. A groan left your mouth as you realized you potentially had to play mediator. To be fair one hadn’t been needed in the movie, but you were also certain Trent hadn’t had anything to drink yet at that point either, and from this distance you had no idea if he had been sticking to soda this entire time.

“Speaking of babysitting, I see potential trouble,” You slid off the hood, stretching your arms above your head. “If I come back smelling like smoke and beer because some idiot spilled on me, I’m blaming you.”

“I will offer no sympathies.”

“Good thing I wasn’t expecting any.”

You made your way toward the bonfire, offering a little wave to Sam as you passed and another sharp grin at Trent. Sam waved back, looking surprised to see you, but genuinely glad as Trent quickly backed up towards his cronies again, hooking a possessive arm around Mikaela. With a wink at Sam’s dumbfounded look, you snagged a soda from the cooler and parked yourself at the edge of the firelight, just close enough to observe but hopefully not be dragged into anyone’s drama.

Although to be fair the only drama that really seemed to be happening was the argument that was now going on between Mikaela and Trent as she pushed his arm away from her and appeared to be laying into him. Mentally you cheered the girl on, she deserved far better than a crappy boyfriend who was only with her for her looks and treated her that way too. 

From the corner of your eye you noticed Sam as he too watched Mikaela tear into Trent before storming off, grabbing her bag on her way out. “I’m going to drive her home tonight.” Sam stated, his eyes never leaving Mikaela’s form.

“First off, learn to blink and stop staring like a creep Sam, I taught you better than that. Second off, did you forget you brought me and Miles here? How exactly are you expecting to fit four people in your car when we barely fit.”

Sam turned wideeyed at you as if he had forgotten your existence. The urge to smack him upside the head and knock the teenage hormones into place was strong but you held your hand. Your couldn’t control the twitching of your eyebrow however. 

“Nova, your majesty, best friend of my life,” your twitching eyebrow raised as you sighed, already certain on where this was going, “Your cousin is here right? You can ask him to take you home please and let me try and sweep Mikaela off of her feet?” 

“And Miles?” 

“Lives five minutes from here and, as you say, has a working pair of legs.” 

You griped the bridge of your nose and sighed, “You will owe me big time for this,” Sam nodded enthusiastically as he started backing away from you. 

“Yes, of course. Whatever you want!” He promised before turning to run towards Bumblebee.

“Where have I heard that before,” you muttered to yourself before you called out to him, “And Sam?” He paused getting into the car to look back at you, “Good luck getting the girl.” He grinned at you before hopping in and starting up the camaro. The engine roared to life with a small puff of smoke before Sam was taking off in the direction Mikaela had been walking. 

You watched him go with amusement dancing through your veins before turning an eye over the party to try and hunt down Miles to let him know the change of plans. You found him hanging upside down from a tree branch as he tried chatting up a couple girls underneath him. With a fond roll of your eyes, you wandered over to let him know his ride had left without him. 

His indignant reaction had been expected and justifiably deserved since he hadn’t been consulted on this, but he waved you off when you offered to have ‘Prospero’ take him home, well aware that he didn’t live far from here and still wanting to stick around. 

People had started to settle into their groups—those still playing in the water, others sitting in too-small lawn chairs with their cups and their teenage bravado fading with the sun. Laughter still rang out, and someone started playing a guitar off-key near the fire, but the chaos had dulled to a dull roar as you walked back over to where Prowl was, climbing in when he silently offered by opening his passenger door. 

“I see your friend has abandoned you to chase after a girl.” He said as you settled in.

You allowed a ghost of a smile to curl your lips. “He’s got guts, I’ll give him that.”

Prowl didn’t respond right away, but you caught the subtle hum in his engine—amusement, maybe. Or something close to it.

“Statistically, determination does play a large role in success,” he said after a beat.

You snorted. “And you’re full of stats. Must be fun at parties.”

“I do not generally attend parties,” he said, perfectly deadpan.

“Shocker.” You leaned forward, elbows on your knees. “Still, I think you’d be the life of one of these parties. ‘Hi, I’m Prowl. Did you know that statistically, fifteen percent of bonfires result in property damage?’”

“Seventeen point eight,” he corrected instantly.

“Of course you know the decimal.” You grinned at him.

Silence fell again—this time easier. More natural. It was a weird sort of calm, this in-between moment where nothing had quite gone wrong yet, but everything was preparing to. You could feel the shift in the air. Like the moment right before lightning struck and thunder cracked.

The radio in Prowl’s dash clicked softly. Then again—barely noticeable to anyone else. You tensed, waiting for Prowl to also have to abandon you to go do some kind of police duty, as a voice spat out words that meant nothing to you. 

“A check in,” Prowl informed you after he responded to the voice, “nothing more.” 

Down below, the fire cracked louder as someone tossed more logs onto it. The music changed again—something slower this time, romantic in a cheesy high-school-movie kind of way. You rolled your eyes but watched as people coupled up to enjoy themselves. Peaceful… for now.

But not for long. And you were ready.

Or at least, you’d hoped you were.

Prev Next

~~Taglist~~

@imagineshazamlokimight

Notes:

I want to say that I don't have anything against teens, but I think we can all agree that Bay didn't exactly make the most three-dimensional human characters, and I will try my best to fix that in the future (especially Mikaela, she deserved so much more than to be the resident eye candy and I have plans for her). Beyond that, though, here's a new chapter! I'm not totally happy with it but I really want to move on and bring in the other Autobots. I miss my beloveds TTuTT/

[lfc-unbelievables]

Good fucking god this has been the most fucking miserable 5 hours of my life

Anyway. I’m living in Liverpool for the short term. And it’s been fun. Early this afternoon I saw the parade, went to the first part of the route, it was great and all. Then I went back and finished my packing as I have to go to Manchester airport in the evening. This flight had been booked months back.

My fucking mistake for leaving a bit too late and arriving at lime street station shortly after the parade has finished. Place was swarmed and the whole concourse outside the stadium was packed. I crossed the street to George’s hall to get shelter cos it was drizzling, and when I looked back the crowd was pressed up to the road. From the vantage point at George’s we could see that the station was just shut and no one was allowed in. Officially, they had announced before today that the station would have a “one queue in one queue out” system but this was clearly not the case. I think just after seven or maybe at 7.30 some people were allowed to leave the station - I supposed a train arrived - but still no one let in.

Bear in mind the city centre is so crowded any mobile data you can get - if any - is fucking slow. So it was only much later word of the car incident went around. And rumours of a stabbing at one of the metro stations. At this point I was trying to walk to another station called Edge Hill, which some of the airport trains call at, but someone warned me that if the trains get too crowded they may just skip the station. Also I got stuck at a coop along the way buying food because the till wasn’t working and there were only 2 staff. So it was getting dark and edge hill isn’t the most well lit area so I figured that even if I never get inside line street it was still safer to call an Uber there late at night rather than at edge hill.

Also I had an airport hotel room booked as my flight wasn’t going to be until really early in the morning (too early for the earliest train the next day) and I tried calling them to let the reception know I might arrive late but their alleged 24 hour reception wasn’t picking up so at this point I’m like even if I get on a train (or am able to book a cab - I did try. Couldn’t even find a ride despite exorbitant surge pricing) is anyone gonna be at the fucking hotel to let me in.

Anyway I did go back to check lime street one more time and this time (which was sometime after 9pm) there was at least a clear queue to get in but it was still fucking long and sections of it are barricaded and frankly I’m appalled that for a city that went through Hillsborough they still thought it was fine to crowd so many people behind fucking barriers.

Finally managed to get on a bus to go back to my apartment and that was also another fucking disaster because the fucking driver kept letting people board and tap their cards despite the bus clearly being packed full, then getting mad that people weren’t standing behind the yellow line (in Liverpool buses there’s a line that people aren’t allowed to stand in front of while the bus is moving) forcing people to cramp and crush each other. Which is so fucking stupid and dangerous. All the buses here have digital displays that they can change to say bus is full if the bus is full but this driver clearly wasn’t doing it. Also some people were still in a very good mood and singing all the football songs so the driver didn’t hear someone press the bell at one point and then refused to let them off.

Anyway I made it back to my place soaked through and fucking annoyed. I’m only now seeing more of what happened online and I’m fucking appalled at the lack of organisation around everything. And the best part is that trains leaving lime street are fucking empty because they still aren’t letting most people in.

Honestly I can stomach all the costs of changing up my travel, forfeiting the hotel, paying a bomb for airport transfer, whatever. It’s peanuts compared to the people who got physically hurt trying to see the team bus. I just needed to rant because what had been a good fun day was fucking ruined by the appalling organisation.

[cleffsncliffs]

My Solo Sojourns- #Kolkata

My earliest memories of Kolkata was undoubtably Sports! Be it Eden Gardens and the epic cricket battles or Mohun Bagan v East Bengal derbies. Over the years I read and heard lots about this city.. but for whatever reasons- never really got a chance to visit. Finally after years of travel and starting my Solo journeys- I finally made it to the city of Joy! And trust me- I will be heading back there again..

First impressions-

The city is quite a mix of just so many things.. ! The Crowds- sometimes maddening seas of humanity, A hustle that just appeals and sometimes overwhelms, Streets as lively as it can be, the outright mess, bustling street markets and enough food to fix most of world hunger! and jostled between all these- it seemed like time just stood still... the yellow cabs, buildings you felt were so old that it may topple over, but they exuded a charm that you couldnt avoid being awestruck by. People engaged in conversations over chai and smokes..I knew I was in for an epic ride!

Highlights

After a 'restless rest' post my flight from Singapore- I headed out to explore New market and Park Street.. oh and the contrast! New market was one colossal melting pot of what not.. ! name it and you will find it... it was overwhelming and watch your pockets! but its an epic ride through countless shops, vendors, food, drink and hordes of curious shopkeepers and onlookers..

Park Street on the other side is an antithesis. The pubs, high end restaurants, shopping outlets.. and thats where I had my first indulgence of the heavenly food of the city.. The iconic Kusum Rolls - that mutton roll just melted within my senses and took me to culinary heavens.. this was just the trailer in my food hunt movie of this special city.!

I decided ( as i usually do on my solos) to aimlessly walk around the new market and esplanade areas.. and just soak in the madness. Grabbing my First Mishti Doi from a local sweet shop- I knew what was in Store- more walks!

Pice Hotels

This is a must do in Kolkata- These iconic hotels which were established to provide affordable meals to the working class. As I stepped into hotel Siddheshwari Ashram- the warmth and unassuming nature of the place struck an instant chord. The simple Dal, rice, an on demand Pomfret fry, prawn curry and aloo bhaja. As I tucked away the friendly staff kept me entertained with Stories and anecdotes. After polishing the meal- I craved for dessert I asked the guy where can i get some good Mishti Doi- he just dashed off inside and got me their own version.. and the flavours are etched forever!

An evening at the Howrah Bridge

The moment I got a glimpse of this imposing structure, I had this sense of fulfilment and the urge to get as closer to this.. Sights of this bridge for me served up History, Grit, resilience, dreams, connections, and a strange mix of calm and rush, architecture marvels, the energies- all at one go... as you walked under bridge and felt the city thumping with energy, you finally reach across on the other side.. walked a bit further away, to the calm shores where all that energy just converts to a surreal calmness! As I gazed across the bridge, and as dusk took over along with the lights on the bridge - rarely will one structure captivate you and set you on a roller coaster of emotions..

The Strays of Kolkata

As someone who is close to dog rescue work, I was quite heartened to see Strays being generally well fed ( some a little too well fed lol) and taken care of.. Sights of strays hanging around butcher shops waiting for their meal and shelters and water bowls for them indeed warmed my heart :).. I spoke to one of the shopkeepers and he told me that even if there were poor business days- the strays around wouldnt go hungry.. Met a security guy at the hotel who would always spend a few Bucks of his own meagre salary to get some meat for the dogs at the Street.. Absolute legends are these souls!

The Indian Coffee House and the city's Love for Books!

The buzzing College Street is a testament to Kolkata's literary and Intellectual Soul! Books , Books and more Books.. absolute heaven for book lovers and readers.. You will get lost in an ocean of book stalls and millions of books.. You name it and you will find that book...and you just soak in the richness of literature at every nook n corner of this Street...

The Addas of Kolkata... as iconic.

I joined a group of Uncles at a table at the legendary Indian Coffee house. As i tucked into my chicken cutlet and cold coffee!- the topics ranged from Politics, cricket, and how AI sucks lol! ... most in Bong that i just inferred from some words and how the tone of those discussions ( that swerved to a debate at times) flew along.. and I signed off with one uncle chiding me on why i would want to buy sweets at big outlets and rather small local shops.. and he guided me to the best Mishti Doi I had at an innocuous small shop down the street! long live these Addas!

Kalighat!

Last day of my trip-

Early morning - As I took a lazy stroll and approached Kalighat - the bells, chants, the lamps, the bustle of devotees just hit me with a spiritual thump that woke every sense of my mind.. As an atheist, I always wondered what will this place serve up to me. But this place just goes beyond religion , faith and beliefs.. it creates one for you at that very instant.. I am still reeling from that morning.. In a good way :) not that it changed my beliefs of God or religion but the energy of the chants, the smells, the flowers, the sight of Butcher and Idol shops next to each other truly symbolised what religion should be.. All accepting... Never mind the touts and the fake preists.. ignore them with a smile :)

As i Tucked into some Soul satisfying Alu Dom and luchis - I just walked around the area.. mostly just staring around n getting captivated at every sight.

The Bali ( animal sacrifice) was a tad overwhelming with the accompanying Dhak sounds that mesmerised me completely.. what an experience .. Phew... goosebumps when I recall..

Kalighat- An absolute must do- where humans and faith collide and left me with an everlasting impression -sometimes humbling, sometimes unsettlingly profound, but most importantly a sense of respect on how unwavering faiths drive people forward to their beliefs.

Kolkata is an emotion, an experience.. not just a city.. Its Raw, it has pride, it has struggle, it overwhelms, it has its own intellect, A strong identity that just refuses to compromise.

Its a must do if you havent... I know I will be back there soon..for unfinished business cos such gems need to be cherished again and again.

Sharing some more Kolkata memories..

The metros, Eden gardens, Victoria, the Maidan, Mohun Bagan, and other amazing little places!

Kolkata must dos and sees

New Market

Park Street

Sudder Street

Victoria memorial, Maidan and St Paul Cathedral

Mohun Bagan club

Esplanade

Kalighat

Howrah Bridge

Howrah Station

Yellow taxi ride

Metro train

Prinsep Ghat

South Park cemetry

Food

Pice restaurants

Kathi Rolls- Kusum,Nizam

Jhalmuri- Maidan

Dal/Aloo Dom with Luchi

Macher Jhol, Shorshe Ilish

Kosha Mangsho

Telebhaja

Sweets all over!

[momentofch-aos]

Christmas Fics I've Written

In order to procrastinate writing my 12 MomentsOfChristmas, I've decided to put together a list of the fics I've previously written based around the Christmas holidays. For my own joy or if anyone is looking for some festive fluff!

Oh Christmas Lights, Keep Shining On - A Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa Christmas Theatre AU! - Fluff, team as found family, romance and a small bit of angst.

The team is gearing up to put on their annual Christmas play, at the Coulson-owned Hub theatre. But there is a problem.. after an abrupt departure left them in the lurch last year, they're missing a leading man. Who will take the role?

***********************************************

To Live For The Hope of It All - My favourite child 🥰 A Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa Coffee Shop AU. While not all Christmas based, the last chapter and culmination of the story is based at Christmas. Author Sousa, found family.

New York had become a sour place for him, and although he was leaving behind a great number of friends and family behind, his work required inspiration that the great city could no longer supply. The monotonous pace of life had caused him to become settled, a hinderance on his creative flow of his writing. His brain itched for adventure and variety, to expand his work beyond the limits of his humdrum life under the cloudy air of the city. He would no doubt miss the yellow cabs, busy streets and constant noise of concrete jungle, but his nature leant him to challenge himself. Maybe California could be the change he needed.

Never Needed Anything More - The follow on one-shots from TLFTHOIA with more domestic moments, angst and a fair number of mainly fluffy Christmas chapters as below.

Chapter 15 : A Proper Christmas Tree - Daniel is on the hunt to find the perfect tree for their first Christmas as a parents.

It was freezing. By California standards anyway. Daisy pulled her coat tighter around her and adjusted her hat to cover the top of her ears, as the cold night air nipped at them. She scanned the area for her husband, who had joyfully disappeared off into the myriad of trees in his attempt to find the perfect one.

Chapter 17 : A Couple of Christmas Surprises - They get unexpected news! Fluff.

To say they were unprepared for the news, would be an understatement. But planning on how tell their families is Daisy's favourite hobby.

Chapter 18 : If We Could Freeze Time - Daisy's first Christmas with Daniel's family in New York.

California had made them soft. Daniel had almost missed the biting chill of the New York streets, the cold streets laden with white snow, which was eventually darkened by the bustling traffic, reflecting the warm light of the bodegas they passed. Daisy, on the other hand, had not missed it, and as they strolled down the dark streets, she could no longer feel her toes in her boots.

BONUS CHAPTER 4 - Hearts Will Be Glowing (When Loved Ones are Near) - Twenty years after the original story, the Johnson-Sousa family spend their first Christmas with their foster daughters.

Most of this series could be read as one shots 💜

***********************************************

To Belong-verse - My beloved Peggysous continuation fic has a Christmas chapter with a Daniel's family which is one of my favourite things to write.

Chapter 8: Christmas 1955 - Christmas in New York with everyone's favourite Actress/roomate and Daniel's family.

It wasn’t hard to see that the boy had a fascination with snow. At almost four years old, he couldn’t get enough of the stuff, despite how his parents tried to stop him throwing himself into every drift that came along. Every so often he’d take an almighty leap into a puddle of it, splashing everything nearby.

Appreciate the Beauty of Snow - Daniel tries to distract Peggy and it ends up in a snowball fight on the roof with Jack and Howard included.

“We’re gonna distract ourselves from the fact we are ageing and our kids are almost adults by doing something ridiculously immature.”

*****************************************************

And for now, that's all folks ❤️

[wizardofarles]

Lord, You Keep Me Crawling

Chapter Five: The Devil You Know — Part One (Auguste)

Cold stars stared down on Auguste from the great bowl of blue-black sky like a thousand uncaring eyes. He tore down the sidewalk, passing through intermittent pools of yellow streetlights and black night; never remaining long enough in either for his eyes to fully adjust before he burst through to the next. His breath was coming hard and fast. He could not put that house, and Laurent, and their uncle, and that whole mess of a dinner behind him quickly enough. He felt like such a fool. He shook his head roughly. He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t think about it; the betrayal stung like grief, and Auguste had no room in his heart for more grief.

A chill wind was rising, tugging at his clothes and hair with cold fingers until he shivered. A drink will warm me up, he thought, as well as clear my head. I need a drink.

With a mind to call Jord, he reached into the inner pocket of his blazer. His heart sank as his hand closed around nothing but the empty inside of the pocket. “Oh, fuck me,” he swore aloud. He’d left his damned phone at the dinner table.

Tugging at his hair, he spun in a helpless circle. Jord’s apartment was in the city, and Auguste was still in the suburbs, not yet a mile from the house that now belonged to the DiAkielos family. This area was sleepy at night. No one else was out on the sidewalks, and only a handful of cars had rolled by since he’d left the house. Even if he’d had any way to pay them, there weren’t any cabs crawling these streets at this hour, and without his phone, Auguste couldn’t even call an Uber.

He grabbed a stone from someone’s rock wall—a ragged thing about the size of a baseball—and hurled it into the blackness of the road with all his might. He let out a wordless scream of frustration, followed by a string of colorful curses that would have made the devil clutch his pearls, if Auguste had still believed in such fanciful things as heaven and hell.

A bang like a gunshot rang through the dark street. Auguste ducked, his heart leaping into his throat. His hand flew reflexively to the back of his waistband, reaching up under his blazer where his fingers curled around cool and reassuring metal. He strained his eyes against the dark but saw no movement. He listened, and heard only the blood drumming in his ears. Then he remembered the stone. Relief swept over him like a warm breeze. It had only been the stone, crashing into the pavement somewhere far ahead along the road.

Just like that, he came back to himself, remembering where and when he was. The sound of gunshots was unknown to uptown Arles suburbia. There was no enemy lurking in the shadowed street. A breath of embarrassed laughter rushed out of him. He uncurled his fingers and smoothed his blazer back down into place, reconsidering his current predicament.

There was nothing to be done for it, he realized with a kind of bleak acceptance. He couldn’t go back, so Auguste walked forward, toward the lights of the city.

He showed up at Jord’s some hours later; cold, sore, and thoroughly miserable. His friend didn’t need to look at him for more than two seconds with his wise gray eyes before he declared, “You look like you could use a drink.”

Auguste had never come so close to kissing another man on the lips in his life. Instead, he tried a weak smile. “You could say that.”

The bar Jord took him to was dirty and loud. Some trashy song Auguste didn’t recognize blared from unseen speakers, competing with the sounds of various sports game reruns on the television screens hanging above the bar, and boisterous waves of human laughter and conversation. Auguste’s shoes stuck to the floor with every step as he followed Jord to a booth at the back.

Auguste had always liked places like this. He had started going out to seedy bars and clubs back when he was still a teenager using a shitty fake ID to buy his booze. Jord had been by his side then too, as well as Orlant, with shitty fake IDs of their own.

Though, much of the appeal back then had come from the knowledge that he wasn’t supposed to be there, and that places like that would frighten and repulse his old-money parents. Now, all he cared about was the beer in his hand. And Jord, he reminded himself belatedly, I still care that Jord’s here.

He took a slow swig of his beer. It was a thick stout, dark and yeasty just the way he preferred. It wasn’t strong enough to get him truly drunk on its own, he knew—even as he worked on his second pint—and the hangover would be killer, but the buzz was pleasant and it calmed his mind. He took another long gulp, savoring the rich taste and feel of the beer on his tongue. Hangover-be-damned, he thought to himself, that’s a good beer.

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” he said around a thick swallow of beer. He had been recounting the events of the disastrous dinner to Jord. “He’s so good, you know. He’s really fucking good—like, prodigy good. And he’s throwing it all away. His whole future.”

“He’s just a kid,” Jord reminded him gently.

“I know. I know he is,” Auguste sighed. “I just always thought that his future was secure. That was one thing I never had to worry about. He had such a clear place in the world. And now … now what’s he going to do?”

“Anything he wants. Look, Gus,” Jord said and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “If I can be blunt here for a second?”

Auguste bowed his head in a go ahead gesture.

Jord rubbed his chin idly, his watchful gray eyes on Auguste’s face. “I don’t think that Laurent quitting the violin is what’s making you so upset. I think this has more to do with him not telling you that he quit.”

“He should have told me,” Auguste agreed. “Something so important …” He ran his thumb through cool beads of condensation on the side of his glass. “We used to be so close.”

“Maybe he was worried you’d be disappointed in him. Shame makes people do all sorts of things that don’t make sense.”

Shame? Auguste shook his head. “No, not Laurent. He does what he wants and doesn’t give a shit what anyone else thinks of him.” I wish I had half his confidence, especially at his age.

Jord shrugged. “Maybe he was afraid you would be angry.”

“I am angry,” Auguste bellowed over the din, causing patrons’ heads around the bar to turn in his direction. He lowered his voice, “Why shouldn’t I be angry? He lied to me for years.”

Jord gave him a long, knowing look.

“That’s not the same,” Auguste jumped to defend himself. “What happened in Marlas—”

“You nearly died.”

The scar on his chest itched accusingly. “Well, clearly I didn’t.”

Jord did not relent. “You don’t think your family deserves to know? You don’t think Laurent deserved to know a year ago that he might have lost his brother?”

“I kept it from him to protect him,” Auguste growled. Heat simmered beneath his skin, boiling up into his face.

“Protect him from what? His chance to say goodbye?”

“I didn’t die!” Auguste didn’t realize he was shouting again until three burly men seated at the bar turned to stare. One was a giant of a man with lank black hair and a grisly beard. Judging by the crookedness of his nose, he’d seen more than his fair share of fistfights. His two companions were dwarfed by him, though they were not small men by any other measure. One had close-cropped red hair and red cheeks to match, and the other had a jaw so square it could be used as a straight-edge. Those two quickly went back to their drinks and conversation, but the huge man with the grisly black beard continued to stare.

“What?” Auguste snapped at him. The man slowly raised a thick black eyebrow, then treated him to a blood-curdling grin. Auguste turned back to his beer with a shiver and took another long swallow.

“But you could have died,” Jord said, expertly ignoring the man at the bar. “By all rights you should have. I saw the shot. I saw you fall. And all the blood. So much blood … Half an inch to the left and your life would have ended before the sound of the gunshot hit my ears. It’s a miracle you’re still here.” Jord’s voice had gone soft and tight. He was no longer looking at Auguste, but off toward the windows with a distant look in his eyes.

Auguste was struck with a wave of guilt. “I don’t believe in miracles,” he replied, suddenly feeling deflated. “It was you who dragged me out of there. But I don’t want to talk about Marlas.”

He visited that godforsaken place every night in his dreams, and sometimes even when he was awake. Those times were scarier. One moment he would be sipping coffee on his back porch, and the next he was caught in the ambush on that dusty street in Marlas, pinned between the enemy troops advancing from the east and a barrage of unexpected gunfire exploding out of the forest on the far side of the river, with no cover and no escape but south, through a village full of blind spots and potential hostiles. He was running blindly through a rain of a thousand tiny metal deaths, shouting to his men as they dropped in droves around him with twitches and violent jerks as clouds of blood and gore burst from their bodies like grotesque red fireworks. No hand of God reached out to shield them. Auguste had buried his faith that day, along with twenty-three of his brothers-in-arms.

Worst of all were the dreams of the alley behind the church in the village. Every time Auguste’s nightmares brought him to that alley, he was terrified that this time Jord wouldn’t find him, he wouldn’t get out, and he would be trapped there forever with blood dripping from his hands while those wide brown eyes stared into his soul accusingly. Perhaps I do believe in hell after all, he reflected with a shudder.

Laughter exploded from a table at the other end of the bar. Auguste expelled a ragged sigh, rubbing his palms roughly over his face. His cheeks were scratchy with stubble he’d have to shave off in the morning. “I just didn’t want Laurent to worry,” he said at last. “I wanted to save him some pain.”

“Gus,” Jord said, placing a warm hand atop his own on the table, “it’s his right to worry about you. That’s love.”

“Love is exhausting,” Auguste said wearily.

Jord breathed out a laugh. “It is. And it’s invigorating.”

Auguste smiled. “You and your contradictions.”

Jord’s tone was solemn. “I’m not the only one. You say you were protecting your brother. What about now? Why have you still not told him? He’s not in danger of losing you anymore.”

Auguste pulled his hand back, feeling his mood turn sour again. A small, vigilant part of his mind registered that the man at the bar was still watching him and Jord. The hair along Auguste’s arms stood up. His fingers twitched, itching for the cold grip at his lower back.

Jord didn’t seem to notice the men, or didn’t care. He caught Auguste’s eye again. “You know what my therapist says? He says that we don’t keep secrets to protect other people. We keep them to protect ourselves.”

“I don’t think I like this therapist of yours,” Auguste grumbled. “And I don’t want to talk about Laurent anymore either.” He chugged the last of his beer and flagged down a waitress for another.

“All right. What do you want to talk about?”

“How are things with Orlant?” Auguste asked.

Jord sighed deeply. “Oh, you know,” he said. The vinyl booth squeaked as he slouched back against it. “Great. Except he still doesn’t want to tell anyone that we’re dating.”

“Jesus, it’s been how long now?”

“Four years in November,” Jord said with a bitter smile.

“I thought the hiding was supposed to be over once he signed with a team.”

“That’s what he always promised, but now another year has passed and,” Jord spread his hands helplessly, “here we are.”

A waitress glided over to the table with Auguste’s beer. She was beautiful, with a dancer’s perfect posture and long blonde curls. She smiled at him when she set down the glass, but it was a shy smile. Auguste couldn’t say why he found that disappointing, or why he had expected her eyes to be ice blue, but when he saw that they were hazel and guileless, he lost interest. He offered her a tepid smile in return, which seemed to leave her almost as disappointed as he felt.

“I’m sorry, man,” he said to Jord when the girl had gone. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Nah,” Jord said, and smoothed his palms over the table. “I’ll talk to him. My therapist says I need to work on confronting the conflict in my life rather than avoiding it.”

“Speaking of which,” Jord said with forced brightness and pulled a small white card out of his wallet. “I have something for you.”

He held the card out between two fingers, and Auguste took it hesitantly. Silver foiled letters were printed onto the thick card.

Dr. Paschal

Adult, teen, and child psychiatrist, family therapist, marriage counselor.

A phone number, address, and email were printed below. Something sour twisted in Auguste’s gut as he stared at the little card.

“I’ve got all the therapy I need right here,” he grumbled, raising his glass of stout in mock toast.

“I think you would really benefit from what he has to offer,” Jord plowed on, heedless of Auguste’s darkening mood. “His advice is really solid. He could just be a friendly, professionally-trained ear to talk to, at the least. Someone who’s paid to not judge you. He could help you deal with Marlas, and your—”

“I don’t need a shrink, there’s nothing wrong with me,” Auguste cut him off sharply, his temper shortened by the drink. Then, seeing the hurt on his friend’s face, he backtracked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“That there’s something wrong with me? No, it’s cool. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Can’t say I ever imagined hearing it from you, though.”

“Jord,” Auguste began. He searched for the right words to repair the damage he’d done. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Actually I don’t, Auguste. You haven’t been yourself lately. Maybe not for a long time.”

“What are you talking about? I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

Jord’s gray eyes were full of sorrow. Auguste was overcome with an absurd wave of guilt. He had no intention of using the card or going to therapy, but he slipped the card into his pocket anyway.

“We should go,” Jord said. “Early report at the base tomorrow, remember?”

Auguste hadn’t forgotten, but he wasn’t nearly as drunk as he needed to be before he could even consider going home. “Not yet. Come on, let’s stay a while longer.” Then, with a grin he wished was real, “Let’s do shots.” He waved the pretty waitress back over enthusiastically.

“No, no way,” Jord protested. “I can’t handle hard liquor like when we were young.”

In the end, Jord acquiesced and allowed Auguste to order a double round of tequila shots, but when he tried to order another round, Jord cut him off.

“No, Gus, that’s enough,” Jord said through his tequila-induced grimace. “Besides, I didn’t inherit deep pockets like you.”

“Come on, Jord,” Auguste pleaded, “I’ll pay you back. You know I’m good for it.”

Jord shook his head. “No, I’m calling it. It’s time to go.”

Auguste leaned back in the booth, the vinyl protesting with a squeak beneath him. “Go, then. I’m staying.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jord flashed him a mocking grin. “How are you going to pay without me? You don’t have your wallet. How are you going to get home? You can’t show up to base tomorrow hungover.”

“Fuck you, man,” Auguste grumbled. “You used to be fun.”

Anger flashed in Jord’s gray eyes like lightning behind a cloud. “Fuck you. You used to be my friend.” He scooted to the edge of the booth, as if to leave.

Auguste slid along with him, holding out a hand in a request for Jord to stay. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Something bumped hard into his elbow, jostling him in his seat. “Watch it,” Auguste barked at the big man who’d brushed by their table.

The man stopped and turned around slowly. It was the black-bearded man who’d stared at him from the bar. “You watch it, prettyboy,” he grumbled in a voice like gravel poured over a mountain.

“Excuse me?” Auguste felt his blood rising.

Jord grabbed his wrist. “Gus, don’t.”

The man lumbered closer, eyeing Jord’s hand on Auguste’s wrist. A vicious grin split his face. “I’m curious,” he growled. “When you two fairies fuck, which one of you is the man, and which one takes it like a woman?” His two companions moved up behind him, snickering.

Auguste shot up from the table. “The fuck did you say?”

“Auguste, please,” Jord hissed between his teeth.

The black-haired man’s laughter was cruel and mocking. “Why so angry, princess? You got something to prove? I bet your little boyfriend here is the man, out of the two of you. You act real tough, but I bet you squeal like a sow in heat when he fucks you into the mattress.”

Auguste sprang at the man before he had finished the last word. He had quick reflexes for such a large man, and caught Auguste’s fist in the air, clasping it in a meaty hand as big and hairy as a bear’s paw. Auguste pushed against the iron grip, and shoved at the man’s other shoulder with his free hand. They struggled, grappling with each other’s arms. The burly man’s arms were like corded stone beneath the rough sleeves of his jacket.

Jord was tugging on his sleeve and shouting at him to stop. Auguste ignored him, grit his teeth, and threw his whole body weight into the struggle, feeling the strain in every burning muscle, but his feet were starting to slip backward. The other man was stronger than him. He wasn’t going to win a battle of brute force.

To drive the point home, the burly man shoved hard, seeming to gain more strength out of nowhere, and sent Auguste reeling backward. He slammed into a table, the edge of it bruising his tailbone instantly as dishes clattered and a glass shattered to the floor.

A woman who was seated at the table shrieked, and her companion fell backwards out of his chair. Other voices added to the cacophony; wordless cries of shock and excitement, and others yelling encouragements or dissuasions.

“Fuck him up, Govart!” the red-haired, red-faced man shouted as Auguste pulled himself to his feet.

The black-haired man—Govart—took a menacing step forward, but Auguste ducked up under his guard, swinging his fist. His knuckles struck home, connecting with Govart’s mangled nose with a satisfying crunch.

Govart’s head reeled back, and he stumbled a few steps backward, clutching his nose. Thick blood poured out between his fingers.

The bartender was shouting something Auguste didn’t catch, likely calling for security.

Auguste’s victory didn’t last long. His next swing was clumsy, which he had his three beers and two tequila shots to thank for—plus the wine at dinner, and Govart dodged it easily.

The blow that Govart landed on his left eye nearly took his head off his shoulders. Auguste went sprawling to the floor, ears ringing. The bar was spinning around him. He grasped at the sticky wooden floor for support, but it didn’t stop, only kept on spinning. His stomach lurched dangerously.

Pain burst along his side as a boot slammed into his ribs. He barely had time to register the first kick before another followed, and another, each more brutal than the last. He curled into a ball in a primal attempt to protect himself.

The ringing was fading from his ears, and he heard Jord screaming, “Stop!” Then Jord was down on the floor in front of him, falling on his ass with a thud that Auguste felt through the floor.

Auguste didn’t remember losing consciousness, but when he came to he was on his feet, being herded out the door by the bar security guard. He glanced around frantically for Jord, and was relieved to find him shuffling along behind him, seemingly unhurt.

Govart and his buddies were nowhere to be seen. Hopefully they’d already been thrown out, or left the bar on their own.

Outside the bar, the blue night rushed up to meet him, enveloping him in its cool embrace. Auguste took in a deep breath, allowing it to refresh him.

Jord brushed past his shoulder, storming down the sidewalk in a silent fury.

“Jord,” Auguste slurred, jogging to catch up to his friend, “I’m sorry.”

“Your goddamned temper is going to get one or both of us killed one of these days,” Jord snapped, but he slowed down to allow Auguste to fall into step beside him.

“That guy was an asshole,” Auguste protested.

“Yes,” Jord agreed, “a very big, very strong, very violent asshole. Not someone to pick a fistfight with.”

They turned a corner down a quiet alleyway. The hairs on the back of Auguste’s neck stood up, but Jord seemed confident in his navigation, and Auguste trusted his friend’s knowledge of the city above his own, so he followed without complaint.

“I could have beaten him if I was sober,” Auguste said.

Jord slowed and leveled him with a significant look. “But you weren’t sober.”

Anger clawed up Auguste’s spine. “You’re the one who suggested drinks.”

“A drink. I suggested a drink, in the singular” Jord retorted. “And how the hell are you planning to explain that black eye to—”

“Did you hear that?” Auguste cut him off, spinning around. He thought he’d heard a noise behind them, but when he squinted into the moonlit alley, he saw nothing but shadows. They listened in tense silence. Distant laughter rolled down the street they’d come from like thunder, and music was playing faintly from somewhere far off to the right—the bass thumping like the city’s heartbeat. “I thought …”

“It’s nothing,” Jord decided. “Let’s go. I’m tired.”

They hadn’t taken two more steps before Auguste heard it again. It was unmistakable. Footsteps echoing behind them, moving just slightly out of pace with their own. He whirled around again, without warning, and this time, he saw the shadows move.

“Who’s there?” he called out. “Show yourself, coward!”

“There’s no one there, Auguste,” Jord said with a hand on his elbow.

“No, I heard footsteps,” he insisted. Adrenaline was hammering in his veins, making it hard to hear anything now over his own heartbeat. Fuck it, he thought, and pulled his gun from the back of his waistband.

“Show yourself, or I start shooting,” he bellowed, creeping toward the shadow with his gun trained on the shifting darkness.

“What the fuck?” Jord’s voice was shrill. “You had a gun on you this whole time? Why the hell do you have a gun? Put it away!”

Auguste heard another sound, closer now, like gravel shifting beneath a shoe. He stepped closer to the shadow, not even daring to breathe, his finger hovering over the trigger.

An ambulance raced down the street at the mouth of the alley, temporarily flooding it with light. Two more guns materialized out of the darkness to match his own, the barrels reflecting the flashes of red and blue emergency light, and both pointed directly at Auguste’s face.

“Freeze,” Square-jaw shouted, as the redhead yelled, “Drop the weapon!”

The world slowed to a crawl as the redhead pulled out a badge, and Square-jaw pulled a pair of shiny silver handcuffs out of his pocket. Moonlight glinted coldly off the metal.

Govart emerged from the shadow last, and stepped up behind his two gun-brandishing cop friends, smirking. “Oops.” Blood dripped down from his crushed nose into his mouth, painting his teeth red.

The ride to the jail in the back of the police car was a blur. He’d lost Jord somewhere along in the process. Which was good, he supposed, because if Jord wasn’t here, it meant he hadn’t been arrested.

Auguste stood in front of the wall-mounted rotary phone, where an officer had told him he could make his one allotted phone call. By now, his eye was beginning to swell and his head throbbed with every slight movement. The handcuffs had left angry red rings around his wrists that burned. Auguste picked up the grimey black receiver, and hesitated.

He almost called Jord, then stopped himself. While he didn’t think Jord was the kind of man to let his best friend rot in jail just because he was angry with him, Augsute knew he couldn’t afford the bail. Orlant could, but probably wouldn’t answer the phone, and there was no way Auguste was going to call his uncle. He floundered for a moment, racking his brain for another friend with deep pockets he could call, until the answer came to him like a ray of sunlight in the dark, and he dialed the number. The phone rang three times, and Auguste began to worry that he wouldn’t pick up.

“Hello?” His godfather’s voice came through at last, clear and steady, untouched by sleep. Auguste vaguely wondered what he was doing up at this hour.

“Berenger,” he breathed out with palpable relief, “thank God. It’s Auguste. I, uh, have a small favor to ask.”

Within the hour, Auguste was ushered through the release process and handed over to a very disappointed-looking Berenger.

“What were you thinking?” Berenger chastised from the driver’s seat as he drove them down the streets of Arles. The night grew darker as they left the city behind and drove farther into the suburbs. “This kind of behavior will get you kicked out of the military, Auguste. I imagine you’re in for a world of trouble as it is.”

Auguste ground his teeth and tried not to pout like a child. In truth, he hadn’t been thinking at all. He had been specifically trying not to think, but he couldn’t say that to Berenger.

The song playing on the radio caught his attention. He cranked up the volume to its maximum.

“Rocket maaan,” he belted along with Elton John, “burning out his fuse up here alone!” He drummed on the dashboard, grinning at Berenger and encouraging him to join in. “And I think it's gonna be a long, long time, ‘til touchdown brings me 'round again to find, I'm not the man they think I am at home, oh! No, no, no! I'm a—”

Berenger reached across the steering wheel and hit the button that controlled the radio, killing the song instantly. Auguste blew out a long breath through puffed cheeks. “Okay,” he muttered.

After that, they rode in silence for a while. Berenger had always possessed a grim, stony sort of face, though handsome in its own way, but it was made grimmer now by the disappointment etched into the lines on his forehead and beside his mouth. Shadows hung beneath his eyes. He looked a decade older than when Auguste had last seen him, two years ago.

“How many drinks have you had tonight?” he finally asked, keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

Auguste scratched at the base of his neck. “A few,” he mumbled defensively.

Berenger’s sigh was deep and weary. “I worry about you, Auguste. You know what I see here? I see you walking in your father’s footsteps, and not down a good path. I loved your father like a brother, and there was plenty to love about him, but he wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes. Mistakes that hurt the people who loved him. I don’t want to see you making the same kind of mistakes.”

Auguste’s head was suddenly full of his father’s roaring voice. His muscles twitched—his body trying to cower from remembered fists. The smell of alcohol on his own breath turned his stomach. He ground his molars together, his jaw tight as a steel trap. “I’m nothing like my father.”

“Aleron raised you to fill his shoes, Auguste,” Berenger said, matter-of-fact, but not unkindly. “He created you in his image. That doesn’t mean you have to pray to him every night, or follow the path he laid out for you. You are your own man. Make your own mistakes; don’t repeat your father’s.”

Auguste had nothing to say to that. He stared out the passenger side window, watching the streetlights zip by overhead like falling stars. It was beautiful, and dizzying—or maybe that was the alcohol. Sleep tugged at his consciousness like a siren, pulling him slowly and sweetly under the waves.

He had almost forgotten Berenger was there when he spoke again, shaking Auguste free from the siren’s grip. “Jord told me you walked straight to his apartment from a dinner party.”

“Jord talked to you? When?”

“He called me just before you did,” Berenger said. “Why did you have a gun on you?”

Auguste shrugged, feeling embarrassed about it now. “Never walk into enemy territory unarmed.”

“Enemy territory?” Berenger repeated softly. “The war is over, son. You’re home now.”

As if to prove his point, Auguste’s parents’ house rolled up into view, the blue paint ghostly gray in the moonlight. My house now, he reminded himself. But he was pretty sure he would always think of it as his parents’ house, regardless of the name on the deed.

The car ambled to a stop in the driveway. Berenger had a pensive look on his face and seemed as though he were going to say something more, so Auguste waited. Drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, Berenger asked, “How’s Laurent doing?”

“Oh, he’s good,” Auguste said, “yeah. I mean, I just found out that he quit the violin years ago, but yeah, he’s, uh … No, he’s all right, I think.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Berenger studied the house through the windshield, a frown creasing his forehead. “It must be lonely, just him and your uncle in that big house. Not an ideal situation for a young boy. I’m sure he’s thrilled to have you back.”

Don’t ever leave me again, Laurent had whispered into their hug at the airport. But he felt colder than the bright little brother Auguste remembered; a distant star, his light only a thin memory by the time it reached earth and human eyes. And there had been that look he’d exchanged with their uncle the night of Auguste’s return. It had been only a little glance, but Auguste had felt the weight of it like a freight train slamming into his chest.

“I don’t know,” he said, staring at his hands in his lap. The knuckles on his right hand were split and bleeding. He hadn’t noticed that until now. “Uncle and Laurent have their own … whole thing. I’m an intruder in my own house.”

Berenger sighed again. This time, it sounded pained. “Nonsense. Auguste, look at me.”

Auguste did. Berenger’s expression was solemn, his brown eyes holding Auguste’s gaze with intensity. “I work in journalism,” he went on. “It’s my job to see the truth behind the smoke screens. And if there’s one truth I’m certain of above all others in this world, it’s that your brother loves you.”

“Sure,” Auguste said with a sad smile, “but loving someone and wanting them around aren’t always the same thing.” His gaze fell back down to his bloody knuckles. “I make him nervous.”

The purring of the engine was the only response. Berenger seemed to have run out of life-lessons and reassurances, or maybe he was cooking up a big one. Auguste decided to change the subject before he had the chance.

“Speaking of Laurent,” he said lightly, “can you make it on Saturday?”

“Saturday?”

“The thirtieth. Laurent’s birthday.”

“I remember.”

“He’s having a party. Well, really, our uncle is having a party and using Laurent’s birthday as an excuse.” At the mention of his uncle, Berenger’s frown deepened to a scowl. “Did you not get an invitation?” Auguste asked.

“I didn’t.”

“Huh. That’s weird. Well, consider this your formal invitation,” Auguste said with a grin. “Brunch is at ten, can you make it?”

“Auguste,” Berenger said slowly, “I don’t know if that would be appropriate.”

“What? No, I’m sure your invitation just got lost in the mail or something. Come on, Berry,” he pleaded, “we haven’t seen you in forever. I miss you, and so does Laurent. He would be thrilled if you came to his party.”

Berenger considered in silence, frowning out at the house. He looked back over at Auguste, something in his face softening, and he sighed. “I suppose I could make time to stop by.”

“Fantastic,” Auguste grinned. “Laurent will be so happy to see you.”

“All right, off you go. Be sure to ice that shiner,” he advised.

“Yeah, I will,” Auguste said as he climbed out of the car. “Thanks again, Berry. I’ll pay you back in full.”

“No, really. Don’t worry about it.” He cut off Auguste’s protest with a wave of his hand. “I’m serious, I won’t accept repayment. This is the least I can do for you and your brother. Let me do this one good thing.”

Auguste was going to protest, but the earnestness in Berenger’s face and tone of voice made him drop it and accept the kindness. “Thank you,” he repeated, more solemnly this time.

Berenger nodded. Auguste closed the car door and started walking away toward the house.

“And stay out of trouble!” Berenger called out his window when Auguste had the handle of the front door in his grip, “Next time I will ask for repayment! With interest!”

Auguste laughed and waved him off. He stood on the front step and watched Berenger’s silver car disappear down the road, leaving him alone in the pre-dawn hush, with only the pale moon and fading stars for company, and the promise of a sunrise on the horizon.

He struggled with the front door until he remembered that it was a push and not a pull, and fell stumbling forward into his house, laughing. The darkness inside the house reminded him to be quiet, so he swallowed his laughter and tried not to slam the door as he closed it. Only after did it occur to him that he had no key on him, but luckily the door had been unlocked.

He saw soft light in the living room, a lamp turned low. A shadow shaped like his uncle sat on the couch in the near-dark, blocking the lamp from view.

“Uncle—”

“Shhh,” the shadow shaped like his uncle shushed. It sounded like his uncle too.

Auguste teetered into the living room and threw himself over the back of the other couch with a sigh. When he rolled over to look at his uncle again, he was no longer blocking the lamp from this angle. Auguste was able to see him where the light fell on one side of his pale face, cutting his profile as sharp as a knife. His eyes traveled down, pulled by a spill of pale hair in his uncle’s lap. Laurent was curled on the couch, using their uncle’s thighs as a pillow. His face was smooth and peaceful with sleep, and his breaths were deep and slow.

“He wanted to wait up for you,” his uncle whispered. He stroked his fingers through Laurent’s hair like he was petting a cat.

“Well, I’m—”

“Shh!” Uncle snapped.

“I’m here now,” Auguste whispered.

“Better that we don’t wake him,” his uncle said softly. “He sleeps little enough these days. You’ve been drinking.”

“I went out with Jord.”

His uncle hummed without expression. Auguste wished he could tell what the man was thinking. Laurent was always better at reading people, especially reading their uncle. The two of them had some sort of connection that Auguste didn’t understand. It seemed even stronger now, like it had grown in his absence. He had been jealous when he first noticed, but now, watching Laurent sleep in his uncle’s lap, he realized he’d been selfish.

“Thank you,” Auguste said solemnly, “for always being there for him. For protecting him when I wasn’t around.”

His uncle tucked a wisp of Laurent’s hair behind his ear with a slow trail of his fingers. “I only did what anyone would do for someone they love,” he murmured.

“No,” Auguste insisted. “You did what I should have done. You’re a far better man than me.” Maybe he was drunker than he’d realized. The warmth of the alcohol in his blood had loosened his tongue, making it easier to say things he had never put to words before. “When Dad died, I thought … Part of me was relieved,” he said with a laugh that was half a sob. “I thought, ‘there’s one less thing to protect him from’. That’s horrible, I know. But I was only thinking about … I should have stayed with him a little longer. He was only a kid … He’s lost so much. I’m glad he never lost you.”

Laurent’s long golden eyelashes fluttered. Auguste wondered what the boy was dreaming about. He hoped it was a pleasant dream.

“Here,” Auguste mumbled as he staggered to his feet, fighting against the way the room swayed around him, “I’ll take him upstairs.”

Uncle smiled. “You just worry about getting yourself safely up the stairs. I will take Laurent to bed.” He placed a proprietary hand on the crown of Laurent’s head.

Auguste was relieved. The stairs did seem daunting enough on their own in his current state, without having to worry about dropping his brother. “Thank you, Uncle. Good night,” he said, and began stumbling up step-by-step.

In his room, he belly-flopped onto his bed with a sigh. As an afterthought, he pulled the card Jord had given him out of his pocket and tossed it onto his nightstand. His eyes closed heavily, and he careened toward a deep and dreamless sleep.

Auguste woke to violent explosions of pain in his head. It took him several seconds of agony to realize that the source of the pain was a sound—and the sound was coming from his alarm. Groaning, he squeezed the lock button on his phone to snooze it. A knife of white light streamed through the seam where his curtains met in the middle, stabbing through his eyes directly into his brain. He wrapped his pillow around his head to shield his eyes and snoozed his alarm again.

The third time his alarm went off, he peeked an eye open to check the time. 6:18 a.m. He had to report to the base today at 0700 hours sharp. If he had any hope of making it on time and not looking (and smelling) as thoroughly hungover as he was, he had to get up now. When he dragged himself to his feet, the room lurched and swayed around him like a ship caught in a storm.

I need a drink, he thought foggily. A little hair-of-the-dog should steady me.

He rummaged through his desk. At the back of the lower right drawer was a bottle of rum he had hidden there before leaving for active duty. He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig. The burn was satisfying and seemed to lessen his headache immediately—though that was probably just the placebo effect, but Auguste didn’t question it. If it worked, it worked. He replaced the cap, then hesitated. He removed it again and took another gulp of rum, just to be sure he drank enough to rid himself of his hangover.

Drinking before breakfast wasn’t a habit Auguste was proud of. Though, it did provide him with some insights. For one, he finally understood why his father used to pour whiskey in his coffee in the mornings.

Auguste studied his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. His left eye was throbbing and swollen almost fully shut, the skin around it puffy and purple.

“Just like old times, eh, Dad?” he asked the mirror with a bitter smirk.

He spit and rinsed his mouth and vowed to never get so bad as to drink his daily coffee with whiskey. A little rum before breakfast once in a while was completely different. He needed it today.

He scrubbed the bar stink off himself in the shower until his skin was pink and stinging. Then he dressed and rushed out the door without a word to his uncle or Laurent who were sitting at the kitchen table, refusing even to turn around when Laurent called out to him so that his brother wouldn’t see his bruised face. That’s a problem for later, Auguste told himself in the solitude of the garage, and climbed onto his motorcycle.

[traeuthaeou]

Hawkins Bay City County Taxi Service

The Yellow Cab Company's mission is to provide safe, reliable, and convenient transportation services to the public. They aim to be a trusted and recognizable brand, prioritizing customer needs and offering a variety of services, including airport transportation and services for disabled and elderly persons and partnering with Friedrich Greiner's taxi company in Stuttgart, Germany

A mass transit authority is a public agency that operates and manages large-scale public transportation systems within a specific geographic area. These systems typically include buses, subways, light rail, commuter rail, and other forms of public transportation. In the Baltimore area, the Maryland Transit Administration (MTA) is the mass transit authority, providing a wide range of services including local and commuter buses, light rail, metro subway, and MARC train service. The Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA)'s mission is to preserve and enhance the quality of life and economic health of the region it serves by providing safe, on-time, reliable, and clean transportation services in a cost-efficient manner. The MTA also aims to ensure the safety and well-being of its riders and employees. 

A mass transit authority is a public agency that operates and manages large-scale public transportation systems within a specific geographic area. These systems typically include buses, subways, light rail, commuter rail, and other forms of public transportation. In the Baltimore area, the Maryland Transit Administration (MTA) is the mass transit authority, providing a wide range of services including local and commuter buses, light rail, metro subway, and MARC train service. The Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA)'s mission is to preserve and enhance the quality of life and economic health of the region it serves by providing safe, on-time, reliable, and clean transportation services in a cost-efficient manner. The MTA also aims to ensure the safety and well-being of its riders and employees. 

Our Mission to Innovate and Create Quality Productive Service and Accurate Records and Archives with ethics care and values that aid to assist in the supporting and residing Citizens of Hawkins Bay City and City County Providence with perfect accommodation and response As our legal legitimate need and upon the Thrones and Thrones it be as Quantity be our Promise seal and Loyalty to The Corporate Entity and whom Be and Our reason for existence and our desire to best of the best and top ranking in the pastology books of the business. La Flaca Mexico Government and Global Operations secured.

The World Bank's core mission is to end extreme poverty and boost shared prosperity on a livable planet. This is achieved through a variety of financial and technical assistance provided to developing countries. Specifically, they aim to reduce the percentage of people generating income less then average by 50 to 100% and promote the income growth of the newly founded United Planetary Nation of the United Planetary Nations State of Providence of Planetary Unity of Thearu in every country. 

A Institution Company Corporation in all our affairs as A Hawkins Hopkins supporting Corporation A Company A Corporation an Institution Global United Servicing Planetary Entity of the Americas Ameriael Founded Based in Supporting Better Business and A Bettering United Planetary Alliance as we are an honest corporation with interest in global success and international trade and exchange and Foundation base of operations of corporations and institution or moral vale ethics and business affirmative affirmation as our mission and mission and or emissions statements As for some over all a combination of my written mission statement and corporation resources in One A + financial juggernaut pilot astronaut pioneer professional occupational exploration protection and security war and raw business moment maybe inspiration our vision to be on top listed planetary Exilaxy business as we practice and perfection daily production and moral ethics in character occupation. Founder Terry.

Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins

Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.

traeuthaeou

ALLAHTREU TREUALLAH TRUE SCRAMBLED LANGUAGEOLOGIST

Founder Terry.

Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins

Terry Lee Hawkins Jr

Blaze

Johns Hopkins Homewood Neighborhood in Baltimore, Maryland The prestigious and sprawling Johns Hopkins University campus in Homewood is home to tree-lined paths, traditional redbrick architecture, and a landmark clock tower. The campus features the Shriver Hall Concert Series and the Baltimore Museum of Art, as well as popular Wyman Park, Wyman Park Dell, and Stony Run Trail. The surrounding area has many taverns and casual eateries popular with students.

Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling blessed with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 3 mins · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling blessed with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 11 mins · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 1 min · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins 4 mins · RAVENDOVE Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins was RavenDove - yin yin / yang RavenDove - yin yin / yang - COLD NUMB AND (LOVIEY DOVIEY) CALCULATED SPELL IT D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book BUT LOKI OR BOOPER SAN with Blaze Pascal. with Terry Lee Hawkins ( male ) @ikigami shinigam HAWKINS HOKINSU/HOKINZU https://www.facebook.com/notes/terry-lee-kauffman-hawkins/bac-formula-racing-f3-series-bac-mission-statement/2296158727310875/ — feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. YES=Y=YES / NO=N=NO

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India, officially the Republic of India, is a country in South Asia. It is the seventh-largest country by area; the most populous country from June 2023 onwards; and since its independence in 1947, the world's most populous democracy. Wikipedia

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Johns Hopkins Homewood

Neighborhood in Baltimore, Maryland

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traeuthaeou

5m ago

YORK OR WORK HOSPITAL Y LETTER 15 W LETTER 23

The University of Maryland, Baltimore is a public university in Baltimore, Maryland, United States. Founded in 1807, it is the second oldest college in Maryland and comprises some of the oldest professional schools of dentistry, law, medicine, pharmacy, social work and nursing in the United States. Wikipedia

Avg cost after aid

––

Graduation rate

95%

Acceptance rate

––Graduation rate is for non-first-time, full-time undergraduate students who graduated within 6 years. They were the largest group of students (75%) according to the 2022–23 College Scorecard data ·more 

From US Dept of Education · Learn more

Address: 

620 W Lexington St, Baltimore, MD 21201

Address: 620 W Lexington St, Baltimore, MD 21201

Phone: (410) 706-3100

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traeuthaeou

2m ago

ALLAH STEP ONE .. GOD TO ALL THOSE PEOPLE NOT A TWELVE STEP LETTER A TO L PROGRAM AT JOHNS HOPKINS AND GOD OR DOG . CHIP HOUSE HUOJINSEN YOU AN ADULT I AM REPORTING TO YOU. H O U S E - H U O J I N S E N . HAWKINGSON TERRY LEE - SOBRIQUET BOOPER BOOPPER THEOS LOKI TEREMY

Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins

is with

Terry Lee Hawkins Jr.

May 9 at 4:48 PM

Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling blessed with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 3 mins · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling blessed with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 11 mins · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins is feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. 1 min · Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins 4 mins · RAVENDOVE Terry Lee Kauffman Hawkins was RavenDove - yin yin / yang RavenDove - yin yin / yang - COLD NUMB AND (LOVIEY DOVIEY) CALCULATED SPELL IT D or L Dove or Love maybe L or D Lover or Dover pythagorean numerology ABC123 Kauffman-Hawkins-Hawk or Hopk -H__kins aw or op and Hopkins signed Booper or just Boop not Book BUT LOKI OR BOOPER SAN with Blaze Pascal. with Terry Lee Hawkins ( male ) @ikigami shinigam HAWKINS HOKINSU/HOKINZU https://www.facebook.com/notes/terry-lee-kauffman-hawkins/bac-formula-racing-f3-series-bac-mission-statement/2296158727310875/ — feeling professional with Terry Lee Hawkins Jr. YES=Y=YES / NO=N=NO

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Enoch Pratt Free Library

4.6301 Google reviews

Public library in Baltimore, Maryland

Description

The Enoch Pratt Free Library is the free public library system of Baltimore, Maryland. Its Central Library is located on 400 Cathedral Street and occupies the northeastern three quarters of a city block ... Wikipedia

Departments: Maryland State Library for the Blind and Print Disabled

Address: 400 Cathedral St, Baltimore, MD 21201

Architect: Edward Lippincott Tilton

Hours: 

Open ⋅ Closes 8 PM · More hours

Opened: 1882

Phone: (410) 396-5430

Branches: 22

Director: Chad Helton, President and CEO

Johns Hopkins Homewood

Neighborhood in Baltimore, Maryland

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64.media.tumblr.com

64.media.tumblr.com

64.media.tumblr.com

#federal government#us government#united government#united nations

64.media.tumblr.com

64.media.tumblr.com

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[irismfrost]

June 4 2025

Traveling again!! This time I'm at Saint Martin/ Sint Maarten with my cousins!

St Martin is an island in the Caribbean split into two countries as mentioned above. The north half (Saint Martin) is French and the south half (Sint Maarten) is Dutch.

We started our day bright and early at 4:30 am. We took the Tri Rail down to the Miami airport and got there wayyyy earlier than we needed to be, but better safe than sorry.

It is GORGEOUS here. The water is so blue and there are mountains with little houses scattered around. We took a cab to our AirBnB and the driver was super nice. A random dude joined us too - also nice. One of the hosts met us at the place and gave us a mini tour. She was nice too and has these cool purpleish platform heel crocs. Our AirBnB is so cute! It has a little kitchen and couch area, plus a loft with bed and bathroom. I think my dad would appreciate the layout of the space. There's also a balcony with a great view (the picture with the sand). It'll make a good home base.

We had dinner at this beautiful, casual place a few mins walk from our place. We're staying in the capital of the French side, Marigot, so there is a lot around here. The place, called La Main a la Pate, was outside by the water. We all had a fun drink. I had the Tentation (the lighter yellow one in the picture) which was rum, passion fruit, and ginger- it was awesome. We had cod fritters and salmon leek quioche as an appetizer. I had this lemon ginger cod and it came with rice and some amazing roasted veggies that I know our moms would LOVE. We also had coconut flan which was good too but we were so full, it was hard to finish. We also have lots of leftovers to eat later tonight. Note that I forgot to take pictures of the food before I started eating so they looked better when they first came out.

After dinner, we went to the store to get some breakfast supplies and water (apparently the tap is drinkable but a lot of people use bottled water anyways). They didn't have eggs but said there was probably some at another store on the street over, but we walked down there and it looked a little sketchy so we decided not to go in. It was also dark out, all our hands were full, and some dudes on the corner asked us if we needed help before we crossed the street... so we turned around. No thank you.

Now we're just gonna chill for the rest of the night and eat our leftovers. We may also have another lil drinkie poo and watch a fun show.

Also, check out the new vacation nails!

[kaa-pow]

New York. New York.

I just got back from New York and still letting the whole experience unpack itself out of my brain. I’ve flown into Newark airport countless times but we would then head in the other direction towards Princeton. This time was different. We landed in Newark and this time headed east. As we approached the Manhattan Island, the landscape was a very familiar American highways construction. Looping freeways, lawyer billboards hugged the edges of the roads, inbetween trees, that felt different to the ones we have in Canada, these were shorter in stature.

The first real signs of what’s to come came as we took the bend just before entering the Lincoln tunnel. I caught a glimpse of Bjarke Ingel’s VIA 57 West building (I had no idea what the thing was called but knew of the building). What I didn’t realise was that I was also looking at Hell’s Kitchen1. The view lasted a split second. I tried to grab my phone and take a pick, but the moment was over as we quickly turned into the Lincoln tunnel.

When we emerged on the other side, the transition to a startling density came almost instantly. Looking outside the car window it took my eyes a little while to fully grasp what we were driving through. A hyper dense city where every block is fully occupied by a building structure from edge to edge. In front of the buildings a slender pavement wraps around the structure. The biggest shock however was the limited space between the roads. The streets could barely fit one car down the centre, with another car width on either side for drop offs and pick ups - or as was exceedingly common, construction.

As made our way through the chaos, the logistics of making this place function in a reasonable manner, there would be consequences and compromises. Traffic was bumper to bumper, blocked on all sides. And then an ambulance siren was heard behind us. There was literally nowhere to go. Intersection crossings had to be respected but there was no flexibility to allow emergency vehicles to pass.

The Grid

What totally captured my imagination was the grid. Not only the audacity to create something like this, but also the ability to implement and maintain this grid. It created a space unlike anything I have ever seen. My mind has accepted that cities were messy, organic constructions. Roads wind around as we built things sometimes around the natural world that existed. Sometimes we would tame the land to suit our very specific needs. The common element was that there was no consistent order within them.

Here however was an island that seemed completely flat and where there was a complete embodiment of a grid that was then turned up to the max by building straight up. I have lived in dense areas in my life, but this order to density to scale was a unique combination.

Someone had to wrangle this defining city element into existence. I had to find out more. Thankfully The Museum of the City of New York has collected all this information to celebrate and educate on this very unique city design aspect.

General Observations

Another defining element of what I imagined New York to be are all the elements that define a city. The yellow cabs were still there, but they did not occupy the same vibrancy I had previously imagined.

The entrances to the subway stations were inconspicuous, and was missing it’s own identity. Unlike the Metros in Europe there was no unifying sign that invited you in and announced itself. Rather New York has green railing with signs attached to the railings. To my mind this was a missed opportunity.

New York is a very live musical city. In the lobby of the hotel, on the short cruise boat that took us around, across Broadway avenue leading up to Time Square. Live music was everywhere.

It’s very difficult to truly appreciate massive structures from up close. So in NY your viewing angles are limited.

The body traffic was something I had not experienced since I was last in Asia.

Walking north/south (so crossing streets) became a little annoying. It felt like I was always walking and hitting a red light. Every. Single. Time. Maybe that’s just being in New York for the first time and it feels like that for everyone?

Its hard to explain, but this density and complete use of every portion of the available grid made it feel less real, made it feel like a theme park.

There was a little bit of self-importance on display by the locals. ‘Greatest City on Earth’. ‘Mega exclusive club’. ‘Insanely expensive apartment’. This is the kind of language that I have experienced in nearly every city I have been to (apart from the greatest city on earth moniker, that is reserved for American arrogance).

A familiar name because of all the Daredevil comics I’ve read of the years. ↩︎

[eranthiss]

Iris visibly softens a touch at that, smoothing out her skirts a little. If Francis had meant her harm he's had ample opportunity to hurt her - even if he doesn't exactly look physically strong enough to injure her. She can never be too careful.

"Sure thing. I don't really know the area well, so I'll have to bother you to show me around."

She's... been around Circhester a bit, but it's far too cold there for her. Shs just gets a cab to Wyndon any time she needs to be in the region for work.

"Oh, I'm twenty, bit old to be wearing children's clothes. This-" She gestures at her dress - hand embroidered light yellow cotton "-is a Tuniko - not really the same, but it's Andiilan." Hmm... "A coat is, honestly, better than that... cape Leon wore. You can actually make the patches look cool. Adds a personal touch."

Her ears pinken once more at that last comment. To this day she doesn't get why people sometimes refer to her as a "Princess" or "Queen". She doesn't say anything about it, though. She doesn't seem to mind either.

"Yeah, sure, I'd like that. You have my details, right? Outta the database? Or do you want 'em?" She spends most of her time in Unova... but she has started visiting home more often. Iris wouldn't mind visiting Galar more often. Marshall keeps saying she needs more... friends? anyway. Her hands dig around in her bag for a bit - keys, Archeops, Joltik... Ah. She pulls her phone out. "My sleep schedule is absolute garbage, so you can call me whenever. I'll pick up."

"Yeah! Charizard are popular here, so there's still a lot of potential for a plush like that. They just want to re-use it, I guess." He hums. "But he still has some backlogged stuff on sale, I think. We could go grab you some later, if you'd like?"

A smile then and a nod. "Yeah. No cape, though. I just have a jacket with all of them on. They wanted me to wear something that wasn't my uniform and I refused a cape outright because I didn't want to just copy Leon, you know? I'm being nudged into doing commercials and shit like that but I've only agreed to one or two. Mostly for products related to Dragons, for ease."

He needed to check up on that, actually. He grins at the fire in her eyes. "You should. That'd be really cool. It cuts down a lot on the number of challengers I need to face, though I suppose you could argue its limiting for the wider set of gym challengers. You have one shot to get all the way to the top. Still... no clue how I did it." He grumbles before he nods, enthusiastically.

"Honestly? I'd love to see one made for you now. I always thought it looked so damn cool. You know, like you were a "dragon queen" and all." He grins before nodding. "Well-- I mean, that's good? Like, the fact you won't be forced into anything."

Another pause as he feeds a meat cube, and uses that time to wind in his brain.

"I'd really like that, Iris. If you wouldn't mind? I'd love to learn more about your region. Maybe we could-- I dunno, go grab a soda or something sometime. I know a load of places that'd give us privacy and not get us swarmed by the news."

[placetovisitinjodhpur]

Place To Visit In Jodhpur

Place To Visit In Jodhpur 

The Blue City of Rajasthan, Jodhpur, has a plethora of fascinating sites for tourists to discover. Jodhpur's vibrant marketplaces, historic palaces, and imposing forts are just a few of the city's many attractions. It is impossible to pass up the chance to see the renowned Jodhpur city view, to see the city’s beauty you must visit Jodhpur Cab Service, where the blue buildings dotting the terrain form a captivating image. Jodhpur never fails to enthral visitors, whether they are exploring the old town's winding streets or admiring the Mehrangarh Fort's exquisite architecture.

Rajasthan's "Blue City"

Jodhpur, one of my favourite Rajasthani cities, is a must-see on any trip itinerary. The imposing Mehrangarh Fort will astound you, and you'll also like the fiery regional cuisine and the welcoming atmosphere. The tourist attractions in Jodhpur will undoubtedly make your trip enjoyable and to make this journey more memorable, visit Jodhpur Taxi Service.

The city is vibrant and lively, especially the old town. Eye-popping yellows, oranges, and reds may be seen on individuals and in stores as you stroll around Nai Sadak. However, you may see why the city is aptly named "The Blue City" if you visit Mehrangarh Fort and gaze down at the old town's blue residences also to see the city must visit Cabs In Jodhpur.

The Blue City of Rajasthan, Jodhpur, is unquestionably worth seeing. There are lots of fascinating spots to discover because of the city's appealing architecture, lively culture, and extensive history. There is something for everyone, from the imposing Mehrangarh Fort, which provides stunning views of the city, to the vibrant and busy markets of the ancient city.

One of the biggest private homes in the world, Umaid Bhawan Palace, offers visitors a glimpse into Jodhpur's regal past. In addition, photographers and travelers alike will find a distinctive and scenic backdrop created by the city's colourful streets, which are studded with houses painted blue. Enjoying the native food or meandering through the old city's tiny streets are just two of the fascinating experiences Jodhpur has to offer. Cab Booking Jodhpur will complete this experience in a beautiful way.

If this is your first time visiting India as a foreign guest, this piece has some excellent advice on what to wear there. And also do visit these Car Hire Jodhpur which will help you in touring the city.

Mehrangarh Fort and Museum

The magnificent Mehrangarh Fort, which provides breath-taking views over the Jaipur to Jodhpur distance and the city's alluring blue colours, is one of the top attractions in Jodhpur, Rajasthan.

Perhaps no fort is quite as magnificent as this one. With its imposing 410-foot height, this enormous building is visible from almost every location in the ancient city.

The creator of Jodhpur city, Rao Jodha, erected Mehrangarh Fort about 1460. It is replete with tradition and history and is still operated by the Jodhpur royal family.

Don't miss a visit to the Fort's well-stocked museum. There is no charge to enter the Fort; tickets are only required for the museum, and they can be obtained at the main entrance. There is a sizable royal palanquin collection at the museum. There's also fabrics, paintings, and armor on show. The former palace of the Fort is also included in the museum; exhibits include the king's bedroom, the royal reception hall, and the sizable zenana, or women's area.

The sweeping ramparts adorned with artillery are also well worth seeing; from here, you can get a great view of the blue city below. There's a restaurant with decent food and drink selections right before the museum entrance. It's a steep walk from the main entrance to the interiors of the Fort, so make sure you wear appropriate footwear. Zip-lining is another exciting adventure activity available to thrill-seekers at Mehrangarh Fort in Rajasthan.

Jaswant Thada

In addition to the Mehrangarh Fort, Jodhpur has numerous attractions. The quiet Jaswant Thada, the Umaid Bhawan Palace with its sumptuous interiors and lush lawns, and the serene Mandore lawns, which are home to historic temples and cenotaphs, are other must-see tourist destinations in Jodhpur. 

Jaswant Thada is a fascinating location in Jodhpur to visit. The distance between the Mehrangarh Fort and this marble memorial to Maharaja Jaswant Singh II is roughly one kilometer. It's a serene location, particularly in the early morning hours.

I've been to this location for an intriguing musical performance by Grammy-winning flautist Wouter Kellerman and Carnatic singer Mahesh Vinayakram.

Umaid Bhawan Palace Museum

The magnificent Umaid Bhawan Palace Museum in Jodhpur has been transformed into a museum. Additionally, it gives guests a peek into the lavish way of life and regal splendor. A public museum has been established within a portion of the palace.

The palace complex contains the Umaid Bhawan Palace Museum. The royal family's and the maharajas' artifacts are on display. The palace welcomes guests and features a lovely, verdant garden. You can take pictures of the fountains and savor the greenery.

Toorji ka Jhalra

I came discovered a big, seemingly upside-down building with steps surrounding it and a pond with deep blue water in the center while meandering through the old town's tiny lanes.

The next set of stairs begins to descend on each side as two sets of seven steps descend to the next platform, one set to the right and one to the left. What I had discovered was Toor Ji ki Baoli, or what the people of Jodhpur call Jhalra - my first glimpse of a noteworthy old stepwell.

What beautiful building immediately came to mind? My second impression was that a monument like this should have no locks, no gates, no admission fees. When I got closer, I saw a few neighborhood guys leaping in the pond with a big grin and shout. That had to be really fantastic!

Clock Tower

I reached the Clock Tower after heading out from the step-well and continuing for some 500 meters. This historic city landmark is encircled by Sardar Market's colourful sights, sounds, and aromas. With the exception of Sundays, the crowds can be somewhat unruly; always grasp onto your children when in crowded areas.

What to do in Jodhpur

Jodhpur offers a plethora of exciting destinations to explore and a wealth of activities. Jodhpur has everything, whether you're an explorer looking for exhilarating activities or a history buff wanting to learn more about the rich cultural legacy.

With its fascinating history, stunning architecture, and dynamic culture, Jodhpur provides visitors an experience they won't soon forget. So prepare to discover Jodhpur's plethora of activities by packing your bags.

Enjoy a sundowner while admiring the magnificent Mehrangarh Fort.

Numerous eateries strive for the greatest vantage point of the Fort that serves as the city's emblem. The rooftop at RAAS is, in my opinion, one of the best. Delicious cocktails, an extensive selection of appetisers to complement the drinks, and a close-up, intimate view of the Fort.

On the rooftop of Pal Bhavan is another restaurant that offers a stunning view of the Fort. I had dinner there with my hubby. That evening's breeze was very cool, so I was happy to have a nice stole with me.

Try spicy local food

To avoid becoming sick, stick to drinking bottled water, but when visiting Jodhpur, venture out and sample some native cuisine. Even though I'm from Rajasthan, some of the food is rather spicy!

If you ask any local about street cuisine, Janta Sweet Home is the first place that comes to mind. I went there for the jalebi, mirchi vada, and pyaz kachori for breakfast. To wash it all down, my companion also sampled the thick, sweet lassi.

The Jhankar Choti Haveli restaurant, which is next to the Clock Tower, is another nearby eatery that serves excellent native Rajasthani cuisine. I've never had better ker sangri than what they served.

Shop for local stuff

After your sightseeing in Jodhpur is over, you could go shopping for some local goods. On the main road next to Ajit Bhawan, there is a row of stores worth checking out. Even though Fab India, Anokhi, and Amrapali are retailers with multiple locations around India, I thought their Jodhpur stores' collections were unique because they carried a lot of regional crafts.

There is a wide selection of non-precious jewels, bags, stoles, and shoes in the stores within Mehrangarh Fort. Taking a leisurely look at the unique keepsakes at the Mehrangarh Museum Shop is enjoyable.

Glass bracelets and tacky trinkets can be found throughout the old town, including in the stores on Nai Sadak and near the Clock Tower.

Where in Jodhpur to stay

Definitely the most opulent place to stay in the city is Umaid Bhawan Palace. In Jodhpur, if you can afford the price, this is the place to stay. This magnificent palace, spanning 26 acres, is among the world's largest private homes. 

A wonderful choice for excellent service, delicious meals, lovely grounds, and Taj hospitality is the Taj Hari Mahal. Search no farther for a luxurious choice in the old town than RAAS Jodhpur, a charming red sandstone boutique resort overlooked by Mehrangarh.

How to get to Jodhpur

Jodhpur has excellent transportation links to Delhi, Mumbai, and other Rajasthani cities. To go to Jodhpur, you can fly from Delhi or Mumbai. Alternatively, ride the train. Jodhpur and Delhi are roughly 650 kilometres apart, and it is possible to travel that distance in a single long day.

There are two ways to travel the approximately 330 kilometres between Jaipur and Jodhpur: by car or by train. Jodhpur is only 250 kilometres away from Udaipur, which is best travelled by car.

Taking a rickshaw in Jodhpur is a convenient way to get around. However, as they rarely use meters, attempt to haggle over the price in advance. Be prepared to spend a little bit more if you are a foreign visitor. As an alternative, you can go around the city by hailing a local taxi.

[magicinaframe-part2]

A Waking Nightmare In The City Of Angels

Before me, a view of Los Angeles, seen from above, looking down from an airplane or helicopter, in daylight, fills the screen. The view shifts and changes, with the movement of the airplane or helicopter. At first, I focus on large buildings, but soon, I see a highway with motor vehicle traffic in the foreground and the buildings recede into the background.

My aerial view is accompanied by the movie's opening credits and a song performed with a disco beat.

The one highway in the foreground changes, with the addition of a second highway with motor vehicle traffic, and soon, all I see are more and more highways, flowing with traffic. From above, the highways resemble geometric shapes.

Then, my gaze is directed downward, towards one highway in particular, towards one stretch of one highway, as if one car on the stretch of the one highway is important. Abruptly, at ground level, I see that one car is in motion. It's a yellow taxicab, with one passenger, a man, seated behind the cab's driver.

The movie's opening song concludes, as the yellow cab pulls up to the entrance of a hotel, identified as the Beverly Hilton. the passenger leaves the cab, holding one small piece of luggage, enters the hotel's lobby, walks to the reservation desk and identifies himself with a thick foreign accent as Roger Garnier.

The desk clerk, who looks to be in his late 30's, seems to recognize the man's name. He hands over an attache case which he says was brought to the hotel by Garnier's secretary, along with a small envelope. Garnier inquires about renting a car and signs in for his room.

Once in his room, Garnier inspects the contents of the attache case and opens the small envelope. There's a newspaper (the New York Times), small stacks of money, a small revolver, and bullets. The small envelope he simply opens and throws onto a table.

Garnier is lost in thought. He locates his bed in the next area of his suite and lies down. Something is on his mind.

Within a minute, the phone next to his bed rings. A man's voice on the phone speaks in a foreign language (which I recognize as French) and relays instructions: a man's name and an address in Beverly Hills. The caller tells Garnier to repeat the information which he does.

In a matter of minutes, Garnier is driving his rental car. He arrives at the address given in the phone instructions and, using the phone at the front gate, gives his name and asks to meet with the man named in the instructions. "I'm expected," he says.

Once let inside by a servant, Garnier is ushered into an impressive-looking room and waits for the man, named Victor Kovacs, to meet with him. A woman enters, identifies herself as Mrs. Kovacs, asks whether Mr. Garnier needs a drink, lets him know that her husband will be with him soon, adds that maybe she will speak to Garnier later, and then makes her way to a nearby swimming pool, outside on the premises, where a young man, Kovacs' son, is reclining on a chair.

Inside the impressive-looking room, Garnier is staring at a large painting over a mantle piece. Mr. Kovacs enters and starts a friendly conversation, but when his visitor turns around to look at him, Kovacs does not recognize him.

"Who the hell are you!?," he demands.

Garnier pulls out his revolver and ries one shot, right at Kovacs, above the waist, then quickly finds a way to exit the house and the property, making use of the electronic control of the front gate. Mrs. Kovacs and Kovacs' son, Alex, rush into the house, once they hear the one gunshot.

So...a man arrives by jet airliner, checks into a hotel, is given money, a gun, and bullets that are delivered to him at the hotel. He's, then, given instructions by telephone. He goes to an address, shoots and kills a man, then leaves.

My description does not convey the way that any of the characters in these scenes interact with each other.

Once I saw the contents of the attache case and paid attention to the phone call in the hotel room, I told myself that Garnier had arrived in Los Angeles, expecting to receive details regarding what he expected to do when he left France.

But then...how do I explain to myself why the character Mr. Kovacs is supposed to be murdered? And why does the character, Garnier, murder Mr. Kovacs? I can't come up with reasons.

I hope to find out the answer to each question.

But before I can get my bearings, the plot of this frightening drama quickly becomes tense. Garnier returns to the Beverly Hilton and asks for the key to his room. The same desk clerk tells Garnier that he's been checked out by his -- Garnier's -- secretary. The secretary took Garnier's belongings from the room. Garnier is due to take a flight to San Francisco at the airport. The clerk is confused by the fact that Garnier does not seem to know about this.

"Your secretary brought written authorization," he says.

On the spot, Garnier's facial expression takes on the look of a poker player. He thinks for a moment, then tells the clerk that he made a mistake by not changing the time on his wristwatch and became confused. He, then, turns and leaves.

The clerk calls after him. "Have a good trip," he says.

The conversation between the two characters in this scene is both cryptic and creepy. "What the hell is going on, here?" I say to myself.

The bulk of the plot of the 104-minute movie, THE OUTSIDE MAN, which played in theaters throughout the U.S. in January, 1973, focuses on what this enigmatic paid killer character has to do to stay alive in a strange environment, many miles from his homeland.

In staying focused with the twists and turns of THE OUTSIDE MAN's plot, I have to construct an arm's length relationship with the paid killer character who is played by French actor Jean-Louis Tritignant. I say "an arm's length relationship" because to simply follow along with this paid killer character is to start behaving like an accomplice, so it's best to keep one's distance and pay attention to what is happening throughout Los Angeles.

As the movie's plot plays out, I occasionally notice some gaps in details. Example: how does character X know the address where character Y lives? A gap in details, combined with the large amount of violent situations, reminded me of nightmares that I have had over the years.

In a nightmare, sometimes there will be a transition to a new situation that, when I wake up, at first, does not make sense, but, when I was dreaming, did make sense.

I am being deliberately vague about the way that THE OUTSIDE MAN's plot plays out. When I reached the grim conclusion of the movie, I figured out that there is a narrator who is separate from the main character -- the paid killer character. The main character is not telling the story. The narrator is more important than the paid killer character.

If any of this sounds interesting to you who are reading my words, track down a copy of this movie on DVD. THE OUTSIDE MAN is a forgotten movie and should be better known.

-- Drew Simels