#i am exhausted and was one of the few masked and even fewer good-masked people

[deermouth]

Just spent 6 hours at the airport, 2 of which were inside of a plane, and then didn't go anywhere!!!

A cargo door was frozen open on the plane, they tried to thaw it for two entire hours, failed, there were no available flights with this airline for tomorrow, and everything with the non-"budget" airlines was waaaay too expensive for my short trip. So I am Staying Home, I Guess!!! Don't fly Spirit. (^:

[itsnotmyfaultsomepeoplecantread]

"Am I actually autistic," I whisper, while picking out half of the vegetables from my soup because they make the texture wrong. "What if everyone was right and I am just choosing to be a mess, and there isn't any other explanation for my weirdness," I say, reciting my ABCs backwards, and listening to the same song on a loop because it keeps me focused and calm. "I don't even have special interests," I say, knowing full well that I get wildly invested in specific shows/movies/information, and have re-watched a niche TV show about thieves dozens upon dozens of times because it makes me happy, and I get exhausted by too many new pieces of media.

"Are my support needs even valid," I scream, on the phone with my mom during a panic attack that was triggered by the wind unpredictably whistling through the pipes. "Is my level of social anxiety and unresponsiveness enough," I ask, thinking about how my remarkably vivid memories since the age of two are primarily filled with a life wrought with social struggles, which have never, ever gone away, even after years of practicing small talk and rehearsing conversations in my head in never-ending loops.

"What if I'm just broken," I sob, quietly, knowing that before my diagnosis, no treatments worked because my brain is functionally different, and I don't have control over what that looks like. "What that's not the answer," I say, texting my partner who sits on the couch next to me, because I have lost my words, and thinking of how no one ever noticed my verbal shutdowns because my silence was preferable to my occasional periods of babbling. "What if I'm not even autistic," I whisper, quietly, into a dark room of memories of everyone that has ever told me how deeply weird and wrong I am, but act surprised when I tell them I'm autistic.

As I ask myself these questions, I wrap myself in the perfectly-textured sweater that was the closest thing I could find to the ancient, hole-filled one I cried over when I left it on the plane at 22 years old. The sleeves of my sweater cover scars from a decade of picking at my skin. The picking helps me process the day's social interactions, and attempt to understand my own mysterious emotions.

The exhaustion it yields is unbearable. I tire of fighting to be heard, yet struggling to explain with the accuracy I desire. Of constantly hearing how everyone "is a little autistic," because I cannot possibly be disabled if I have spent years trying desperately to learn basic small talk. Because most people don't care to learn, or to reach behind the mask and see what lies beneath. They don't know me. And yet, despite their doubts, I find myself torn apart when they inevitably get frustrated by my inability to read invisible boundaries between faintly marked lines. I follow the social cues I am told to follow, and still I get it wrong.

The lack of trust builds the walls that so few have been able to breach. Even fewer remain welcome, becoming those whom I treasure with undying loyalty. I remain honest and open, my idealism and empathy wanting so desperately for people to be as good as I know they can be. But that doesn't prevent the rejections from haunting me, convincing me that my existence is wrong.

It haunts me.

So, I spiral. I think of how much I copy others, at the cost of my own identity. I think, too, of my stubborn refusal to do what everyone else is doing or is telling me to do, and of every time that I have panicked over something that no one else understood. I think of how many times I have felt like an outsider; of how many times I sought out the company of my teachers to that of my peers. I think of every test that I cried on, while others laughed at me — of how deeply depressed and angry it made me, knowing that they would never understand. And I worry that I don't even fit the standard of normal for my own diagnoses. I worry that I am this way by choice. I worry that I am judged. I worry.

But as the worry hits me like violent ocean waves, I let it wash over me until the feeling calms. And I finally let it go.

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S’wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around,  “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

[megthemewlingquim]

Rest

Summary: The holidays exhaust you, mentally and physically. When you go to get up for a yet another early shift at work, Loki keeps you in bed via cuddle lock.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of what retail workers go through when they have bad days at work taken from personal experience and the experience of the person for which I am writing this, crying, anxiety, feelings of loneliness, hurt/comfort.

A/N: This is a late Christmas present for @ragnarachael, to cheer her up after what has been (for her) a very hard and exhausting Christmas season. Anyone else who needs this can use it as a way to help themselves. I just wanted to cheer up a friend, so that she knows that she is in fact wonderful and good enough, even when bad days arise.

You wake up the morning after Christmas Day, and all you want to do is go back to sleep. The alarm clock reads 6:45 A.M, and it yells at you. It also blinds you, interrupting the darkness behind your eyelids with white light.

WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE—

You click the alarm off with a muffled groan. You struggle to move, your eyes betraying you and getting used to the darkness yet again. Your body betrays you as well, slowly getting used to the warmth the covers provide you. Sleep seems quite inviting. Those sleeps where you wake up earlier than you want, but then go back to sleep to get those last few hours in? Heavenly.

Also lovely when you have someone beside you to trap you in his arms as if to say, “Don’t go. It’s not time yet, and I still want you here.”

Sometimes, he says that literally.

Loki hates it when you have to get up early. He hates having the feeling of your body beside him be taken away by your job. Sometimes, your schedule is quite nice, with weekends off and shorter shifts on more days during the week to leave you with time for leisure. When it isn’t like that it’s horrible, with multiple days during the week but with longer shifts, and the weekends taken up as the cherry on top. In addition, sometimes you have to get up early. Very early. Like, being there when the store you work at opens to no one early. 

This time, it is a Saturday, and you have to get up early. The day after Christmas.

You had had a two-day break with Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Before Christmas Eve you had worked a couple of days in a row.

The holidays completely exhaust you. Christmas especially is probably the worst season to be a retail worker. You’re stuck at the register for your entire shift, waiting for the unhappy customers who, unfortunately, take their confusion and dissatisfaction on you, the person who has no control over what you sell, what you have sold out of, and your prices. Of course, this happens year-round, but due to the hectic nature of the Christmas shopping season, the general unhappiness of the human race is revealed even more.

Every day, your feet ache from standing for hours on end, and every day you go in, you dread working with people who don’t care about you and working for people who don’t appreciate you. On very special days, you are practically yelled at, and then you have to go into the bathroom on your break to cry your way out of your anxiety.

The only good thing about working today will probably be how the Christmas season is drawing to a close. This means less busy days, less busy people, fewer moments with your managers that leave you shaky and terrified.

With that thought doing a little bit to motivate you, you move to get out of bed.

However, you’re held back. Loki’s arms are around you before you can tell, and their grip from behind is warm and comforting - not at all helping you to get out of bed.

“Stay,” is what he pleads. Rather than hearing a groggy voice filled with annoyance at your movements, you hear one that is softer, quieter, “Stay here, please.”

“Loki,” you protest, fighting sleepily against his grip, “I have - I have to get ready, you know that. I—”

“No, you don’t,” he says, waking up fully now. His eyes open and, upon seeing you fidgeting against him, he lets go of you only slightly. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Why?” you ask, grateful that he has allowed you to turn around and look at him. You are not mad, just a little annoyed, but your tired brain is unable to let that show. “I’ll be home right afterward.”

He sighs, breathing in and out deeply through his nose. “Sweetheart, you’ve been working all week. You try so hard to mask what’s bothering you, but I know you, and I know how you are with these things. You’re exhausted, you fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillows, and every day you have to go into that dreaded workplace, I see you as if you have a weight on your shoulders. I can tell, you dread working there with those people. You hate the schedules, you hate how they treat you. You hate the time spent away from home, from me.  So, why do you keep going when it’s in your better interest to stay?”

“Money pays the bills,” you say with a sigh of your own.

“Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m a prince, and I was once a king. We’re married. If you take me up on one of my many offers, you’ll never have to work again.”

“Stop that,” you say. “Please. I appreciate it, but I can’t depend on you for that. I’ll feel bad about it.”

“You shouldn’t,” Loki says. “I want to do that for you.”

“I am aware, but I don’t want that for either of us. I’d rather play a part in our living.” You move to get up again, but that’s when Loki moves as well, taking you in his arms for the second time.

“Loki!” you whisper angrily, “I have to—”

“No,” he says, a little more stern now. “You do not have to go in today.”

“Why is that?” you huff.

“Because you need to rest.”

“Loki, please let me go, I need to go. I’m supposed to be in the shower already, that’s why I woke up so early.”

“If you will not accept my offer for our future, at least accept this. Accept the rest you obviously need and deserve.”

You have a hard time being mad at him. Yes, you’re annoyed but mad? Never. You sigh. “Loki. I have to work.”

“Do you want to?” he asks.

“No,” you say without hesitation. “Of course I don’t. But I know I have to. I’ll get in trouble if I don’t go.”

“So there are a lot of reasons you need to go, and those are all valid reasons, but you’re not thinking of one thing: your health.”

“I feel fine.”

“Do not try to lie to me. You’re not ‘fine’, as much as you’d like to convince both of us that you are. As I said before, you’re exhausted, and you’re mentally drained whenever you go. You often come home in tears, but you practically fall asleep as soon as we get to bed, so I cannot comfort you. How I wish that you would see this… I want to help you, to give you strength and rest and love, all things you deserve.”

“Loki—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

All this time, Loki’s voice continues to remain gentle. It’s nice to see that despite your persistence, he is not mad at you.

You squirm, trying to get out of his arms. At this point you might even have to call into work, saying you’ll be late. Sorry, my husband wouldn’t let me out of bed. What kind of excuse is that?

His grip holds. “Stay,” he whispers, and suddenly you feel tears rising in your eyes.

You haven’t realized, all this time during the holidays, that you’ve missed him. You’ve missed your husband so much, but seeing him has been hard. With your long hours and your exhaustion and your anxiety, it has been extremely difficult to see Loki and to spend any time with him. He doesn’t seem concerned about this himself, not too much, but he only seems concerned about you, and that makes you feel even worse.

But still, he misses you, too.

“No,” you whisper back.

“Stay...”

Your eyes shut and the tears pour down. “No!”

“Stay here. Stay here with me.”

You stop struggling, completely breaking down and crying fully into your pillow. He lets you go, realizing how you are. Then, with a small, sad sigh, he turns you around to face him. You’re practically limp, motionless as you sob.

“Sweetheart...” he croons, his voice low and soft and everything you’ve been missing. “Sweetheart, c’mere...”

You cling to him, relishing in his touch as he draws you to him for the first time in what seems like years. Your breathing is choppy, rough, and you cannot seem to get yourself calmed down. It’s as if everything you’ve shut out from your mind these past few weeks has been completely unlocked and has come crashing down onto you.

All the while, Loki keeps you close, shushing you gently and rubbing your back in circles. He calls you the prettiest words and praises you as you cry:

“I know, my love, I know. I’ll take care of you. Of everything.

“That’s it, sweetness, let it all out for me.

“This is just one simple thing you need: a good, long rest and some time with someone who loves you. Just rest here with me. I have you here, and I’m not letting go of you.”

As you cry, you notice your exhaustion taking hold of you again. Though it doesn’t seem possible, the covers seem more warm and even more inviting, and the darkness seems to make your eyes even more heavy.

Loki’s hands keep themselves on the back of your head and on your back, all warm and strong and still infinitely tender. He kisses your cheeks and your forehead, all the while continuing to comfort you in the best way he knows how.

“I love you. I love you so much and it breaks my heart to see you this way. You deserve so much... and you haven’t been accepting anything for yourself. You need to do that, beloved.

“But don’t... don’t worry. My love, I’m here. Here to help you. For now, let’s stay here. Stay here together. You need this, and you know it. I love you so much, my dearest. I love you with all my heart.”

[singcanaryair]

Struggling to catch your breath? Feeling wheezy? Could be symptoms of AP (Air Pollution).

Why we should stop idling and start switching off

Unless you have managed to hide away from any news and social media sources (which one would imagine you have not if you are reading this), you will be aware of the very topical Climate Crisis, which is affecting every species on the planet.

We want to keep specific to air pollution, and namely to the topic of engine idling. This is because air pollution is a vast subject and can get complicated, and for our sake as well as yours, we want to keep to specifics, or we could ramble on for days (and we have found that since discovering social media our attention span seems to waver somewhat!). Where were we? …. Oh yes, right.

Well, to start off with, our less than healthy obsession with the problem of engine idling became very apparent to us upon relocating to Bedfordshire and observing immediately the number of drivers who idle their engines completely unnecessarily. It is so common that nobody seems to notice or care when drivers do it, apart from us, who you might observe cursing them to the high Heavens. Supermarket car parks are where the most offenders can be found, especially during a lunch hour. As we do not engine idle unnecessarily ourselves, we are unsure why others do it. Are they charging phones? Laptops? What? Outside schools at drop-off and pick-up times follow as a close second location of choice for the worst offender. Even reports of those leaving the engine running while filling up with fuel have reached our ears!  

Little lungs

Enjoying hearing the birds in the trees twittering away, only to be disturbed by the rumbling sound and stench of a nearby idling engine peeves us no end. And it got us to thinking about all the species which must be affected by those fumes. Indeed, scientists are about to start research into the effects of air pollution on bees. It is interesting how we make references to children’s health due to air pollution (more on that later), but do not mention other species affected by it. Surely the lungs and brains of other species would be susceptible to the trauma of air pollution, too?    

No excuses

There is no excuse for idling your vehicle. None. If it is winter, put on a coat when you go out, if you anticipate you are going to be sat in your car, or walk around to warm up. If it is summer, open your car window for air rather than luxuriating in the air con, or again get out of the vehicle to cool down. It is a myth that engines are damaged if you turn them off and back on when you then depart. A myth. This is literally what they are designed to do!

International Women’s Day  

On a recent International Women’s Day webinar discussing the seriousness of air pollution, Ella Roberta’s mum, co-founder of the Ella Roberta Family Foundation made a good observation. She said when she saw traffic lined up recently, she knew their engines were running as she could hear them, but could see no visible fumes. This is something I am sure we have all observed, and may be one of the reasons why the general population is not taking air pollution as seriously as it should. Can you imagine if the fumes being pumped out of every idling engine were thick and black? We would be appalled, and demands would be made to immediately eradicate them! Without that visual stimulus people can be blind to the dangers. The pollutants are most certainly there, we just cannot always see them. Catalytic converters can only do so much.    

The bodies are piling up  

The Royal College of Physicians estimate 40,000 deaths a year in the UK alone are linked to air pollution. That is like filling the O2 arena in London twice with dead bodies – not a pleasant image. There are 7 million deaths caused worldwide every year by air pollution! Try and get your head around that number. Just to give you an idea of the sheer size of that number, so far Covid has killed worldwide 2.67million to date, over a similar period. It has battered countries all around the world, making us struggle for breath, experience increasing difficulty walking short distances when once we could run races, worsening the symptoms of asthma, COPD and lung diseases. It has been taken seriously worldwide, with countries crippled economically and stretching already exhausted healthcare systems. So, surely with 7 million a year dying, and many more with chronic diseases affecting their day-to-day lives, it makes sense to take air pollution ‘costs’ as seriously as the world is taking the costs of Covid.  

So, what is the delay? Is it because the cost to ‘fix it’ requires long-term planning solutions, which may have a high price tag in the short-term but will help us in the long-term, making it something that a present government does not want to deal with, only being in power for a handful of years? Who knows the reasons for the delay to action – or even, in many cases, the absolute denial that there is even a problem? We can delay response or deny what is happening all we like, but The Crisis is very much already happening. Flooding, such as that Australia is currently experiencing, is caused by climate change. Homes are destroyed, people and animals are displaced. If governments are worried about paying the price for sorting out The Crisis, they will find themselves with much larger bills over the next coming years, and fewer people to pay those bills.    

Toxic talk   

Now we know that vehicles are a big contributor to air pollution. Just think of all those lovely toxic fumes our lungs already must deal with on a daily basis: carbon dioxide, nitrogen dioxide, carbon monoxide and hydrocarbons – all are linked to lung diseases. Nice. Seems a miracle we can breathe independently at all. So, knowing how polluting vehicles are, surely just switching off when not in motion is not a lot to ask. Reducing the number of journeys made in them is even better.  

Fine with fines

It is against the law in the UK to idle your engine, as it is in many countries: France, Germany, Sweden and Finland, to name but a few. That is a fact which not everyone is aware of. We may not like fines, but we cannot deny they are effective deterrents for future bad behaviour. When you receive a speeding fine, what is your automatic action at the next camera you encounter? You slow down. If we remind drivers that it is an offence to idle, and monitor and enforce areas where the worst offenders ‘hang out’, then trust us, the numbers of idlers will decrease.  

It is fair to make the point that, when asked, most people to turn off their engine will obey, as we have discovered ourselves. What we need is to make it something that becomes second nature, like wearing masks in shops. We want reminder adverts on the television, radio, social media, billboards, banners and signposts. Let it become second nature to switch off.

If it sounds like we are bleating on about the single subject of air pollution, here is some more imagery for you: ‘idling causes enough emissions to fill 150 balloons with harmful pollutants every single minute’ (City of Westminster council, 2017). That is 216,000 balloons each day! Completely unnecessary and avoidable – that is why we bleat.

In London, the Idling Action London team are working hard to create awareness with their ongoing campaign: reminding parents whilst sitting outside schools, reminding businesses to ensure their staff turn off their vehicles whilst delivering, and just creating a better awareness of the issue. This is great. Talking to people is a great way to spread the word. Getting schools involved is another. Have children create posters for an awareness campaign, which they can then remind their parents of at next pick-up time!  

School’s out

The reason why pickup points outside schools are a common target for campaign groups against engine idling is because of the elevated levels of toxins present while engine idling. Just a few cars sitting idling for ten to twenty minutes is dangerous for children’s lungs that are still developing, and can also damage brain cells. Not everyone is aware of this, but engine idling affects those on the INSIDE of the car as well as on the outside. So, if you do not want to switch off for others, you might want to consider switching off for yourself and your passengers’ health.  

[shera-dnd]

The Hunter part 2 - Our Guilt

The continuation of the self indulgent Catralonnie nonsense

This time with 100% more homoerotic sparring matches

The information they got wasn’t complete. They knew now that Prime’s ship had landed in the middle of a canyon in the Wastes; the awkward forced landing nearly completely covered the area in rocks and dirt and kept the ship hidden from scavengers for years. One of the gangs had recently uncovered it and planned to use the weapons there to get back at the kingdoms that rejected them.

Catra recognized that sentiment. She had felt the same way about Adora, Shadow Weaver, the whole world, even. Back then she would’ve grinded the entire world into dust to fill the hole in her heart. She was different now, and she would not let so many lives be destroyed with that same foolish anger.

They still didn’t know where the ship fell exactly, or where the super weapon would be pointed, or even which of the many gangs was responsible, so they still had a fair share of investigations ahead of them. And that is why they were taking a little trip through the Valley of the Lost hoping Lonnie’s contacts knew something they didn’t.

No, they were the Hunter’s contacts and Catra was travelling with the Hunter now, not Lonnie. They had put their helmet back on and it was back to having the quiet, professional, and constantly grumpy Hunter. Thinking about it now, Catra was kinda surprised it took her a whole day to figure out who they were.

Her companion guided her through shady streets and even shadier alleys, until they found themselves in some abandoned storage facility...or just a shack full of shit, both options were equally plausible.

“You wait outside.” They commanded. Catra opened her mouth to protest, but was promptly interrupted. “He’ll only talk to me. You wait outside.”

Catra sighed and once more waited while her companion did the talking. Part of her wanted them to get this over with quickly so they could get on their way already. The other part wanted it to go about as well as it did last time so she had something to do.

Luckily the former part of her got what it wanted and after a few minutes the Hunter returned, giving her a nod that Catra understood as ‘mission accomplished’. Unluckily, the second half also got what it wanted for as soon as they stepped into the main street they were surrounded by armed thugs. Armed thugs with sleeveless leather jackets and whips. Great.

“Shouldn’t you shit heads be helping with Fright Zone reconstructions?” Catra called out, her hand slowly reaching for her whip.

“You got the wrong gang, girl.” A goat man answered, sounding way too confident for someone who was about to have some broken bones. “We don’t work with those traitors and we sure as hell don’t work for you!”

“So are those the ones we’re looking for?” Catra casually asked the Hunter, completely ignoring the over confident fool.

“Yes.” They answered, hand moving for their spear.

Once more they found themselves in that familiar position of fighting back to back. It made sense now that she would feel this kind of familiarity with someone she had sparred with so many times, but for some reason knowing that it was Lonnie inside of that armor made these moments a lot more strange for Catra.

Lonnie understood her, in some bizarre way. This woman who she barely talked to outside the necessary, who made Catra suffer and was made to suffer by Catra’s hands, who hated her and had every right to. Somehow this woman got her more than anyone back at Brightmoon. More than Adora ever did.

“Do all your hunts end up like this?” Catra asked, trying to distract herself from the turmoil that always came over her when she thought of Adora.

“Not until you came along.” They complained, putting their spear away and turning to face Catra.

“Are you seriously blaming me for this?” Catra asked, incredulous “They all attacked you!”

“I am blaming you, because you are the one getting all the unwanted attention.” Lonnie argued, her voice growing louder as she nearly dropped the Hunter act.

“Says the woman wearing a whole tank worth of weapons.” Catra bit back, exhausted and stressed from the track in the desert, the stupid bandits who kept getting in the way and the unbearable silence that kept grinding at her sanity. At least shouting was better than quiet judging.

“I-” Lonnie began, but Catra would not let her finish.

“You hate me!” She loudly interrupted, “I get it. Join the fucking club!” Lonnie looked ready to strangle Catra, but before she got any chance another bandit rode past them on the back of a raptor. “You gonna shoot them?”

“We’re gonna follow them.” The Hunter answered, Lonnie’s burst of emotion once again replaced by cold professionalism. Catra let out a sigh of frustration and attempted to calm down.

“That thing is way faster than our cart.” Catra stated “A skiff would draw too much attention, so I say we cut the horses lose from the cart, grab as many supplies as we can carry and ride for the rest of the trip.”

“Sounds good.” The Hunter agreed with a nod.

It was mechanical and cold, in a way that Catra was starting to hate. She was this close to getting something out of Lonnie, even if that something was probably her right hook. Losing a few teeth was preferable to enduring the silent hatred from behind that awful helmet.

~~~

Their chase had been less a high speed chase and more a slightly hurried ride through the desert. The raptor couldn’t keep up its speed for much more than a few minutes, and as their mark slowed down so did they. They were careful to keep them just at the limit of what their binoculars could see so they wouldn’t draw their attention and raise suspicion.  

“You gonna take that helmet off?” Catra asked, after a few hours in the desert. She refused to spend another minute alone with ‘The Hunter’.

“No.” The answer was quick and short, delivered with that insufferable voice distortion.

“I already know who you are,” Catra reminded her, “Why even keep it?”

“Why take it off?” Lonnie had to be fucking with Catra at this point.

“Because I wanna talk to you and not some mercenary weirdo.” Catra explained.

“I’m fine not talking.” Lonnie answer and Catra just wanted to jump her right now “And I’m not a mercenary.”

“Well I’m not fine with silence!” She complained, exasperated.

“You were before.” Lonnie retorted, now with even fewer words.

“Maybe because I didn’t know you were my lost childhood friend until last night.” Catra couldn’t believe she had to explain that “I thought you were dead!”

“We were never friends, Catra.” She answered. The words were accusatory, but her tone was tired and maybe even regretful. “You made that very clear.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t care when you just up and vanished!” Catra wanted Lonnie to open up a little, but Catra was the one leaving herself wide open. “Fuck, Lonnie. Rogelio and Kyle-”

“Are happily married and living a peaceful life somewhere else.” She interrupted.

“They were worried sick!” Catra argued back “And here you were, all this time, wearing a mask and pretending to be someone else so you could maybe get your shot at happiness, but guess what? You can never be happy by pretending! Believe me, I tried!” Catra only realized how much she had said once it already left her mouth.

Lonnie didn’t answer for a while, leaving Catra to regret every second of her emotional burst, but after a few moments and a heavy sigh Lonnie took off her helmet. She still didn’t say anything to Catra, but at least there was a human face next to her and not a cold mask.

Catra tried not to stare this time, but every time she turned to look at Lonnie she saw the woman’s face going through a journey far more intense than the one they were having. Frustrated, angry, regretful, tired, sad. Lonnie hadn’t had to suppress her own expressions in a long time and now without the helmet her emotions were exposed for the whole world to see.

“After this is done,” Lonnie finally spoke. It was nice to hear her real voice again. “Let Kyle and Rogelio know I’m fine and tell them I’m happy for them.”

“After this is done you could tell them yourself.” Catra offered, but it only earned her a glare. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

She opened her mouth to ask something, but Lonnie lifted her hand in a motion that said ‘halt’. They both stopped their mounts and brought up their binoculars. It seemed their mark’s ride decided that they had done enough running for a day and refused to move from that spot. The following display of hilarious incompetence from their target both amused and confused Catra. How did a bunch of bumbling fools manage to become such a threat to Etheria? Maybe they kept all the competent leaders at their homebase and use the rest as cannon fodder.

“Looks like they’re setting up camp.” Catra commented. It was getting pretty dark.

“Let’s do the same then.” Lonnie added, jumping off of her horse.

~~~

There was no fire tonight for either them nor did their target dare light one. It was a good thing Catra and Lonnie had spent most their lives eating cold and tasteless ration bars or this meal would’ve been dreadful. It still was, but at least they were used to it.

Catra passed her binoculars back to Lonnie as her turn on ‘idiot watch’ was over. She lazily rolled over and looked up at the stars that illuminated them, shining as bright as they had the day she escaped from Prime, expanding endlessly towards the horizon. If anything good ever came from the war, this view would be it.

“I was wondering something.” She mentioned lazily. “Why the whole ‘Hunter’ thing? Do you really need a secret identity?”

Lonnie didn’t answer for a while and Catra felt like she pried into something she shouldn’t.

“I wasn’t planning on it at first.” Lonnie explained. “I used the helmet for protection. Never understood why Rogelio insisted on fighting without it.” She shook her head and allowed a small smile at the memory. “I also never made a point of introducing myself before helping people, then one day someone called me The Hunter and I never bothered to correct them.”

“You could have said something back when we met.” Catra complained, but it was halfheartedly. More to poke fun at Lonnie than to really display displeasure.

“I said ‘Catra!’” She repeated in that same annoyed tone from before, earning a short laugh from Catra. “And ‘I hate you’. I was practically telling you my name.”

“You underestimate how many people still hate me.” Catra joked along. Lonnie chuckled at that. “I was worried it could’ve been Octavia under the mask the whole time.”

“Like Octavia ever fought that well.” Now they were both laughing. When did they get this friendly?

“Who said you fought well?” Catra teased. “If I recall correctly I was the one pinning you down.”

“That is because I was holding back on you!” Lonnie defended “Just because I wanted to work some tension out on your face doesn’t mean I wanted to kill you.”

“What? Did years in the desert give you She-ra powers or something?” Catra joked, turning around to see Lonnie detaching the chest plate from her armor. Inside there was a single First Ones relic connected to the exoskeleton she was wearing.

“Stole one of Hordak’s old models before leaving.” She explained “I could probably kick you all the way to their camp!” She gestured towards their target while looking smugly at Catra.

“Well, then take that off. We’re having a rematch.” Catra declared as she got up and began stretching.

“Excuse me?” Lonnie asked, surprised by Catra’s eagerness. “We have to keep an eye on them!”

“If they start running in the middle of the match we just catch up to them later.” Catra shrugged. “Not like it’s gonna take that long.” Catra offered her a challenging smile. “Afraid I’ll be the one on top again?” Lonnie smiled back.

“In your dreams, Catra.” She answered and began taking off her armor.

Several of Catra’s dreams had in fact started with Lonnie stripping off her armor and ended with Catra on top, but she was definitely not gonna mention that, so she settled with just waiting for her adversary to get ready with feign impatience.

The clothes Lonnie was wearing under the armor were simple and plain, offering a little extra comfort under the mountain of bulky metal she carried daily. She was definitely still wearing more under her armor than she did in those dreams.

Their sparring match was quick, but intense. Catra had speed on her side and was more than used to fighting stronger opponents, easily sidestepping and dodging anything Lonnie threw at her. Lonnie, on the other hand, had the stamina to keep fighting regardless of what Catra threw at her and enough strength in that right hook to keep Catra on her toes. They would both have to rely on wits to take the upper hand and that was something both women had quite a lot of.

In the end they were both laughing. They were tired, dirty and sweaty, but they were laughing. Even when Lonnie tackled her to the ground and pinned her in place Catra still smiled, not even defeat could take that from her.

“Told you I’d be on top.” Lonnie teased, with a smug smile on her face that was somehow brighter than any of the stars that framed her. “Do I win something?”

‘Me’ a part of Catra wanted to say. The same part that was now bombarding her with terrible ideas she would absolutely regret and questioned why her past self insisted on thinking about herself on top when this was clearly much more fun.

“Yeah,” Catra finally said, banishing any stray thoughts about Lonnie’s biceps. “You earned my silence. Congratulations, I’ll stop bothering you now.”

Lonnie looked disappointed, maybe even sad and Catra immediately regretted her decision. Lonnie pushed herself up and began putting on her armor again, making a clear effort to not look at Catra.

They both returned to their respective corners of the camp. Lonnie went back to watching over their target, and Catra accepted that she was gonna fall asleep full of regrets once again. But as she closed her eyes, she heard Lonnie’s voice.

“I think I’m gonna refuse that prize.”

And Catra fell asleep with a smile.

[fiadhaisteach]

New York Times: text under cut

What Lockdown 2.0 Looks Like: Harsher Rules, Deeper Confusion    

By Damien Cave

_________________________________________________________

Melbourne, Australia’s second-largest city, is becoming a case study in handling a second wave of infections. There are lots of unanswered questions.

Credit...William West/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

Australia’s second-largest city, Melbourne, is grappling with a spiraling coronavirus outbreak that has led to a lockdown with some of the toughest restrictions in the world — offering a preview of what many urban dwellers elsewhere could confront in coming weeks and months.

The new lockdown is the product of early success; the country thought it had the virus beat in June. But there was a breakdown in the quarantine program for hotels. Returning travelers passed the virus to hotel security guards in Melbourne, who carried the contagion home.

Even after masks became mandatory in the city two weeks ago, the spread continued. And now, as officials try to break the chain of infections, Melbourne is being reshaped by sweeping enforcement and fine print. A confounding matrix of hefty fines for disobedience to the lockdown and minor exceptions for everything from romantic partners to home building has led to silenced streets and endless versions of the question: So, wait, can I ____?

Restaurant owners are wondering about food delivery after an 8 p.m. curfew began on Sunday night. Teenagers are asking if their boyfriends and girlfriends count as essential partners. Can animal shelter volunteers walk dogs at night? Are house cleaners essential for those struggling with their mental health? Can people who have been tested exercise outside?

“This is such a weird, scary, bizarro time that we live in,” said Tessethia Von Tessle Roberts, 25, a student in Melbourne who admits to having hit a breaking point a few days ago, when her washing machine broke.

“Our health care workers are hustling around the clock to keep us alive,” she said. “Our politicians are as scared as we are, but they have to pretend like they have a better idea than we do of what’s going to happen next.”

Pandemic lockdowns, never easy, are getting ever more confusing and contentious as they evolve in the face of second and third rounds of outbreaks that have exhausted both officials and residents. With success against the virus as fleeting as the breeze, the new waves of restrictions feel to many like a bombing raid that just won’t end.

For some places, risk calculations can change overnight. In Hong Kong, officials banned daytime dining in restaurants last month, only to reverse themselves a day later after an outcry. Schools in some cities are opening and closing like screen doors in summer.

In many areas where the virus has retreated and then resurged, the future looks like a long, complicated haul. Leaders are reaching for their own metaphors to try to explain it.

Image

Credit...William West/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

In California, Gov. Gavin Newsom has compared his opening and shutting of businesses to a

“dimmer switch.”

Dan Andrews, the premier in Victoria, the state of which Melbourne is the capital, has repeatedly referred to “pilot light mode” for industries like construction and meatpacking, which have been ordered to temporarily reduce their work forces.

Whatever the metaphor, the situation is bleak.

In Melbourne, a city of five million that is considered a capital of food and culture, the pandemic has come raging back even after a so-called Stage 3 lockdown began in early July — until recently the highest level of restrictions.

Officials have been flummoxed at every turn by the persistent complacency of just enough people to let the virus thrive and multiply.

Traffic data showed people driving more in July than they had during the first Stage 3 lockdown, in March and April. Even worse, almost nine out of 10 people with Covid-19 had not been tested or isolated when they first felt sick, Mr. Andrews, the state’s top leader, said in late July. And 53 percent had not quarantined while waiting for their test results.

“That means people have felt unwell and just gone about their business,” Mr. Andrews said.

Sounding the alarm, he made face masks mandatory the next day, on July 22.

Still, infections have continued to rise. They peaked at 753 new cases on July 30, and have hovered around 500 a day ever since, with the death toll in Victoria now standing at 147, after 11 deaths were recorded on Monday.

Those figures, while far less troublesome than those in the United States, have paved the way for a Stage 4 lockdown — what officials are calling a “shock and awe” attack on the virus — that will last at least six weeks.

Image

Credit...Daniel Pockett/Getty Images

Overwhelming force, with precision, seems to be the goal. The chief modelers of the pandemic response in Australia have found that the virus can be suppressed only if more than 70 percent of the population abides by social distancing guidelines and other public health rules.

Mr. Andrews said the new restrictions would take 250,000 more people out of their routines, in the hopes of reaching the necessary threshold.

So retail stores will be closed. Schools will return to at-home instruction. Restaurants will be takeout or delivery only. Child-care centers will be available only for permitted workers.

Those restrictions are already well understood. The rules requiring more explanation are tied to the curfew and industries that have to cut back.

Large-scale construction projects of more than three stories, for example, will have to reduce their on-site work force by 75 percent, and workers will not be able to work at more than one location. Small-scale construction cannot have more than five workers.

All of which sounds clear. But does a bathroom renovation, for example, amount to home building in an apartment with one bathroom? And what about fixing things that break, like Ms. Von Tessle Roberts’s washing machine?

Some businesses, like cleaning services, are already emailing customers to say they think they can do some work, for people who pay through welfare or who need help for mental health reasons. But, like many others, they are still seeking official clarification.

Image

Credit...David Crosling/EPA, via Shutterstock

Mr. Andrews, a Labor politician sometimes described as awkward and paternal, has become the dad everyone needs answers from. He now oversees, under the lockdown rules, what may be the country’s most intrusive bureaucracy since its days as a penal colony.

The Coronavirus Outbreak ›

Frequently Asked Questions

Updated August 4, 2020

I have antibodies. Am I now immune?

I’m a small-business owner. Can I get relief?

What are my rights if I am worried about going back to work?

Should I refinance my mortgage?

What is school going to look like in September?

As of right now, that seems likely, for at least several months. There have been frightening accounts of people suffering what seems to be a second bout of Covid-19. But experts say these patients may have a drawn-out course of infection, with the virus taking a slow toll weeks to months after initial exposure. People infected with the coronavirus typically produce immune molecules called antibodies, which are protective proteins made in response to an infection. These antibodies may last in the body only two to three months, which may seem worrisome, but that’s perfectly normal after an acute infection subsides, said Dr. Michael Mina, an immunologist at Harvard University. It may be possible to get the coronavirus again, but it’s highly unlikely that it would be possible in a short window of time from initial infection or make people sicker the second time.

The stimulus bills enacted in March offer help for the millions of American small businesses. Those eligible for aid are businesses and nonprofit organizations with fewer than 500 workers, including sole proprietorships, independent contractors and freelancers. Some larger companies in some industries are also eligible. The help being offered, which is being managed by the Small Business Administration, includes the Paycheck Protection Program and the Economic Injury Disaster Loan program. But lots of folks have not yet seen payouts. Even those who have received help are confused: The rules are draconian, and some are stuck sitting on money they don’t know how to use. Many small-business owners are getting less than they expected or not hearing anything at all.

Employers have to provide a safe workplace with policies that protect everyone equally. And if one of your co-workers tests positive for the coronavirus, the C.D.C. has said that employers should tell their employees -- without giving you the sick employee’s name -- that they may have been exposed to the virus.

It could be a good idea, because mortgage rates have never been lower. Refinancing requests have pushed mortgage applications to some of the highest levels since 2008, so be prepared to get in line. But defaults are also up, so if you’re thinking about buying a home, be aware that some lenders have tightened their standards.

It is unlikely that many schools will return to a normal schedule this fall, requiring the grind of online learning, makeshift child care and stunted workdays to continue. California’s two largest public school districts — Los Angeles and San Diego — said on July 13, that instruction will be remote-only in the fall, citing concerns that surging coronavirus infections in their areas pose too dire a risk for students and teachers. Together, the two districts enroll some 825,000 students. They are the largest in the country so far to abandon plans for even a partial physical return to classrooms when they reopen in August. For other districts, the solution won’t be an all-or-nothing approach. Many systems, including the nation’s largest, New York City, are devising hybrid plans that involve spending some days in classrooms and other days online. There’s no national policy on this yet, so check with your municipal school system regularly to see what is happening in your community.

On Tuesday, he answered questions from reporters about dog-walking (allowed after curfew, sort of, only near home) and other subjects of great confusion at a news conference in Melbourne.

Thanking those who complied with the new rules and scolding those who did not, he announced that no one in self-isolation would now be allowed to exercise outdoors. A door-knocking campaign to check in on 3,000 people who had Covid-19 found that 800 of them were not at home.

All 800 have been referred to the Victoria police for investigation. The fine for violators going forward, he said, will be 4,957 Australian dollars, $3,532.

Working, even legally, will also become trickier. Other than, say, hospital workers with formal identification, everyone traveling for a job deemed essential during the lockdown must carry a formal document — a work permit signed by the employer and employee.

For Cara Devine, who works at a wine store that closes at 8 p.m., that means carrying a government form with her everywhere, and hoping that the police recognize her task as essential when she heads home after the curfew. But she also worried about the Uber drivers who take her back and forth.

Image

Credit...William West/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

“Even before the newest restrictions, I’ve had two Uber drivers being really late picking up from the shop because they got stopped by the police, taking about an hour out of their work time,” she said.

The police are already confronting opposition. On at least four occasions in the last week, they reported having to smash the windows of cars and pull people out after they refused to provide a name and address at a police checkpoint. The Victoria police commissioner, Shane Patton, said a 38-year-old woman had also been charged with assault after attacking a police officer who had stopped her for not wearing a face mask.

Some criminologists are questioning whether the harsher enforcement will help. Mostly, though, Melburnians are just trying to endure.

Walking to get groceries, Peter Barnes, 56, said he welcomed the stricter rules, though he admitted his city was starting to feel like George Orwell’s “1984,” with the heavy hand of the state around every corner.

Those focused solely on the economics, he said, should remember the obvious: “You can’t hire a corpse. Very bad employment prospects for people who are dead.”

By Monday night, the city seemed to be in listening mode. The streets were emptying out, silent in hibernation.

“It’s like a Sunday in the 1950s,” said Mark Rubbo, the owner of Readings, Melbourne’s largest independent bookstore. He also noted that people were stocking up again on books through online orders, with a memoir called “The Happiest Man on Earth,” about a Holocaust survivor, becoming a runaway hit.

Ms. Von Tessle Roberts has found another solution, perhaps just as likely to grow in popularity: Stand on your front porch and scream. That’s the name she has given to an event she posted on Facebook, set for Friday at 7 p.m. By Tuesday afternoon, 70,000 people had expressed an interest in joining her collective shout in anguish.

“Yelling is great,” she said. “It’s less dehydrating than crying.”

Image

Credit...Erik Anderson/EPA, via Shutterstock

_________________________________________________________

Besha Rodell and Yan Zhuang contributed reporting from Melbourne, and Livia Albeck-Ripka from Cairns, Australia.

Thanks for reading The Times.

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[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 47: Sixth Mask

Chapters: 47/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), A Lot Of Things Happen All At Once, You Might Have Been A Little Hasty,  Summary:  You gather up the courage to confess to Loki.

Through a sleepy haze, you realized that someone had entered the room with you. It wasn't Loki, but an unfamiliar woman-probably a healer's apprentice-who approached you and stroked your face.

“Just one more to go.” She murmured. “It's you, hmm? How unusual. I wouldn't have expected that of Asgardian aristocracy. Oh well. He's brought this on himself.”

She left then, without doing anything else, leaving you wondering, in your drowsiness, if she had just been a dream.

                                                                      *****

“Look, you can say that the royal family has a tradition of charity as much as you like, but we don't have a huge reserve of resources anymore.” Brunnhilde argued. “You can't just snap your fingers and get what you want. Where are we getting the money? Where are we getting the builders? Ours are all tied up in constructing the city! We don't have the bodies, we just don't have them!”

“I'll contract other humans to do it!” Loki suggested. They'd been at it for a few minutes now, working out kinks and blocks to his plan. “Humans built these things in the first place; they should know how it works.”

“They don't build them anymore! They build...I don't know, tasteful three-bedroom apartments, and things like that!”

“No, they do.” Thor interjected. “I've seen this 'reconstruction' Loki speaks of. I once visited Sweden on an Avengers world tour-press conference event.”

Loki snorted.

“Yes, I know, but it's not much different than a royal procession, is it? We needed the positive PR at the time. And they greeted me specifically with a longhouse they had built according to archaeological finds. They thought it represented Asgardian living quarters.”

Brunnhilde laughed. “Did you tell them?”

“Of course not!” Thor said. “They put so much work into it, and they were trying to honor me. It was a heartfelt gift. So I stayed there, and I 'consecrated' it for them. It's a museum now. But my point is; there are enough people who know how to build these things that they were able to do that, and it's not the only one they've made in modern times, so we should actually be able to hire contractors who know what they are doing.”

“Okay, but again, where are we getting the funds?” Brunnhilde continued. “This is a lovely plan, sure, but it's pure fantasy unless we get the cash!”

“I'll...just...figure something out.” Loki grumbled. “There's got to be some way a god can make money on this planet.”

“You could strip.” Brunnhilde suggested.

“I shan't!” Loki refused. “There must be something else, something less base. Besides, no one wants to see my flesh. Why don't you strip?”

Brunnhilde shrugged. “I could, but I'd be keeping the money.”

“How about you ask _____? She might have some ideas.” Thor suggested. “Honestly Loki, if you want to know anything about Earth, it's probably best to ask the locals.”

“Yes, yes.” He griped. “Fewer surprises, more involvement, I get it. When she wakes up, I'll present her with my idea, and see if she has any suggestions.”

“Do you have any meetings today?” Thor asked.

“Just a few. I'll get them done early, and we can discuss things over dinner. I wonder if she likes candles? I'll set a few out and see.”

Thor fondly watched his brother rush to his duties, still bursting with ideas. It had been a long time since he had seen Loki look so hopeful. This time would be better than the others, he was sure.

                                                                           *****

You woke fully, what seemed like hours later, all fuzziness and drowsiness banished. You felt great, in fact. When you swung your legs over the bed and hopped to your feet, there was no residual dizziness, and when you rubbed the side of your head, there was almost no pain.

The healing machines certainly did a good job! Maybe they were adapting to your alien physiology? Either way, you were grateful for it.

When you checked your tiny hand mirror-one of the trinkets that dangled from your domed brooches, it didn't seem like your face had gone back to normal yet, but maybe it would take more time. Or maybe, since the bones had already healed, they couldn't be convinced to 'heal' any further.

Either way, you should probably go let Loki know that you wouldn't need that wheelchair any more. In fact, you were going to just leave it here, so someone else could use it, if they needed it.

Everyone in the healing wing was busy with the mystery illness, so it was easy for you to slip out unnoticed. No one else had died from it yet, but no one had gotten any better either. You didn't need to pull any healers away from their jobs to send for Loki; you would just go find him yourself.

And while you were feeling so good and fresh, perhaps you should discuss your feelings with him as well. After all, if you got it out into the open, and let him reject you, then you could get over it faster and start fresh, without it all bubbling over in your mind. Better to just get it over with.

                                                                             *****

The last meeting was over, and Loki slumped wearily on the throne, exhausted by how many people still seemed to think they could live and make demands the way they used to. It had been so much easier when he'd been Odin. The people accepted his verdicts; they argued with Loki, lied to him, tried to manipulate him, as if constantly forgetting that he knew what they were doing. Or perhaps they simply didn't take it into account, perhaps they were just doing what they had always done, and were incapable of fathoming that anything had to change. But that woodenness, that rigidity always led to collapse in the end, and Loki meant to keep that from happening. They would have to learn flexibility.

But he was done with that for the day. Now he needed to drum up some candles for a nice dinner with you, and see if you had woken up yet.

Compassion. You clearly valued it, and so, he was going to show it. You would just love this plan of his, he knew it. He would show infinite kindness to these dedicated humans, and you would fall madly in love with him, and-

He was getting a little ahead of himself. It wouldn't be that easy. This was just one step in the journey to prove himself. You had seen the prince and you had seen a little bit of the god, but he still had to show you the man. Who was Loki, under all the titles and fame?

He looked up at the sound of the door opening, straightening up in the throne when he saw you quietly enter.

How swiftly the weariness fled at the mere sight of you! How his tired mood soared at the prospect of spending time with you. He thanked the Norns for you.

“Come, enter! I see you are walking on your own now. How do you feel? Do you hurt at all?”

You smiled at him. “Only a little sore, hardly at all. I'm walking just fine now, but if I have any problems, I'll let you know.”

“That's very good to hear. Would you like to take dinner with me? Formally, I mean, not in our rooms. I'll have something nice made, just for us.”

“You mean, like a date?” You asked, almost teasing. Loki sat up straighter.

“Well...if you want to look at it that way, I certainly cannot stop you. You can approach, you know. You don't have to keep your distance when I am on the throne.”

“I'm not interrupting anything?” You asked. “No more people to meet, no more problems to resolve?”

“Not for today. It's just us now.”

“Oh, that's good. There's something private I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Private?” That might be a good sign. If you wanted to open up to him, that meant you felt close to him, and trusted him. Something felt odd about this though. Like the hazy unreality of a daydream. Like you were reading from a script of things he wanted to hear.

He swallowed as you approached. Had your hips always swayed like that when you walked, or was he only noticing now that he had admitted his feelings to himself? Either way, it was doing things to him.

Thank the Norns he always had the prescience to wear long tunics...

“Loki...” You purred once you'd gotten close enough that he could hear you do it. “I need to tell you something. Now, you're free to take this as you will, I don't expect anything from you. But I can't hide this anymore.”

“Yes?” His voice came out more excited than he'd intended. Could it be?

You leaned over him, arms resting on the throne, and his pulse hit a fever pitch. His eyes torn between yours, your lips, the soft swell of your breasts under the modest clothing you preferred, the memory of which was still etched in his memory...

“I've been feeling strongly for you lately. I've come to care for you, and I think I might even be falling for you. I know that's probably not what you want from me, but I thought I should let you know.”

“No! That's exactly what I want from you!” The words burst from him like an inexperienced youth, someone so full of emotion that he could no longer properly manage it. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap. “ I feel the same. _____, I adore you! I would do anything for you! Anything!”

Some tiny part of his mind nagged that this was too good to be true. The cynical part that didn't believe he deserved happiness. This was all happening so fast. But you had always been a little unpredictable in temperament; it was one of the things he liked about you. Perhaps you had simply realized how good he could be for you, and decided to go with it. How could he argue?

“Anything?” Your smile dazzled him, taking his attentions away from his doubts, the insistence of his lie-senses that something was off. “Then kiss me Loki. Have a well-deserved reward!”

You pressed your lips to his, filling him with pure, electric bliss. It drove every doubt from his mind; the slightly wrong scent of you, the suddenness of it all, the odd hollowness of your back, none of it mattered. Only the delightful experience of your mouth.

By the time he recognized his growing weakness, it was far too late to pull away, and he found he did not want to. He didn't want this moment to end; he was happy to die here.

It seemed you were going to make sure that he did.

                                                                                                                                                             *****

Heimdall rushed through the halls, face layered with concern. He did not recognize what he had just seen, but he knew it meant danger. People jumped out of his path, knowing that he, of all people, must be given the right of way. Few things could make Heimdall run.

“Your Majesty!” He cried, bursting in on Thor's solitary dinner. “I have seen danger in Asgard.”

Thor leaped to his feet. “What? Where? What is it?” He demanded.

“I am not yet certain. I have never seen such a being before, but someone has invaded the city. Every time I looked, her face was different, but I can see the strings of life she trails behind her. She is responsible for the illness of the workers, though I know not how or why.”

“Where is this being?” Thor asked, grabbing Stormbreaker, which he had leaned against the wall nearest the door.

Heimdall's orange eyes scanned through the walls.

“The throne room.” He said finally. “Hurry!”

                                                                                                                                                *****

You wandered the halls, seeking out a guard who could speak to you in a language you could understand. When you finally found one, he seemed very confused to see you.

“Oh, you must go in circle. Must get lost.” He said, when you asked where Loki was. “Throne room. That way, then that way, then that way. Two doors.”

You got fewer stares nowadays, most of the people in the palace complex having seen you often enough to no longer find you all that unusual. No one bothered you as you made your way towards the throne room, wondering if the murals had been finished yet. There would be so many paintings on the walls by the time the artists were finished, that you didn't think there would be a blank spot anywhere.

You found what you thought were the doors the guard had referred to, trying to remember if this was the same place you had met the king to sign yourself to citizenship.

Well. It was time to confess, and come clean. Maybe he would reciprocate? No no, it was best not to hold that hope. This was just to clear the air, so that you could move on.

You quietly opened the door.

You quietly closed the door.

It seemed you didn't need to wait for his answer after all.

[pandachamp]

AVENGERS 4 TRAILER ANALYSIS

Whoop Whoop! The new Avengers trailer just dropped this morning at 7am (USC) and I couldn’t be more excited!

To prove how much of a fanatic I am about the MCU, I made a scene by scene analysis of the one minute trailer. Be aware of the long post ahead, we’re diving in deep.

So I split up the analysis by three things. I put a voice over as stand-alone quotes right above the shot it correlates to. Every time there is a shot change, I put a new dash. Whenever the scene itself changes (ex. from Space to Earth) I write down the new area we are watching. Keep in mind that sometimes the shots and scenes of trailers do not occur in order. (But I’m sure ya’ll know that)

Trailer Watch:

Scene: Tony and his recording to Pepper in the cockpit of a ship

-Tony’s iron man head is ruined. It is the right side of his helmet. This isn’t accurate to what we see in Infinity war. You can find the youtube video I watched to find this out here. Tony had his helmet smashed off. The left side of his face was open and the right side was still intact before Thanos hit him across the head the whole thing came off. Soooooo, either Tony has another suit with him (wouldn’t surprise me) and then got into a separate fight, or I got it wrong and that was not the last time we see the Iron Man suit in Infinity War. EDIT: I rewatched it since I posted, the helmet is not ruined, it is meticulously taken apart. What if Tony was trying to give power to the ship through the Iron Man suit? That power is going to run out ‘tomorrow’ and the ship will then have no power to give them oxygen. 

Tony VO “This thing on?”

-The interior of the ship he is on is similar to ones from the guardians of the galaxy. Making me think he is on their ship.

“Hey miss Potts, If you find this recording…”

- He is wearing a black tank top and his triangle arc reactor is showing through the shirt. He looks physically exhausted and tired. The last outfit we see him in on Titan was a zip-up sweatshirt, but I don’t expect that to be the only thing he had on him.

“Don’t feel bad about this. Part of the journey is the end. Just for the record, being adrift in space with zero promise of rescue is more fun than it sounds.”

- Honestly, I thought the ship in space was Falcon. I got excited for a hot second there. It is not. Then my brain started working again ‘you really think Falcon would be in space? Did you forget that Sam was dusted too?’ Thanks, brain, I really needed to remember that Sam got dusted. Thanks.

“Food and water ran out four days ago. Oxygen will run out tomorrow morning. That’’ be it.”

- Tony’s outfit is different. He now has a red long-sleeve shirt on. He is standing and looking out the front of the ship. There is something blue and bright on the right bottom corner of the screen, but it doesn’t seem artificial, maybe there is a bunch of bright nebula’s. Speaking of Nebula, we haven't seen her on this ship yet.

“When I drift off I will think about you. It’s always you.”

-my heart 

-the ship’s screens in the background seem to be disrupted. There is something else that is wrong with the ship.

Scene: wherever Thanos is

- his armor is off and hung like a scarecrow. His hut we see at the end of infinity war is in the background. The landscape is hilly and looks like it could even be earth. (Dear Lord I hope not)

Natasha VO “Thanos did exactly what he said he was going to do…”

- We see the gauntlet. It is wrecked. It looks just as burned as it did after the snap in infinity war.

- The plants Thanos is walking in are not from earth. He is on a different planet. I can’t tell where he is walking to, but he is going toward the sun. It’s all quiet and peaceful, just like he wanted. 

Scene: Avenger’s compound

- A sky view of the compound. It is completely empty, there’s hardly as much movement in comparison to other scenes. Thanos really did do it.

“He wiped out…

-Cap is crying. I am crying. We all are crying. I miss him too, Cap. I miss him too.

“Fifty percent of all living creatures.”

-50% of living creatures! Not just humans! This means that there are fewer animals too. Do plants count?

- Next, we see Bruce standing in front of a screen showing missing avengers. We see Scott Lang as the main face he is looking at, but a smaller screen also shows both Shuri and Peter Parker as MISSING. Shuri got dusted as well! He looks at Scott and puts his hand in his face.

- We then get another shot at the compound. This time it looks like a hanger for maybe the quinjets? Nonetheless, it is empty.

Steve VO “We lost. All of us”

- Thor is 1. In human clothing (and man does he look good) 2. Sitting solemnly against a background that is pretty indistinguishable. At first I thought it was the Asgardian cells, but then I remembered that he was last on earth. He is most likely at the base with Cap and Nat. He looks defeated. He had him. He had the power to kill Thanos! He didn’t truly avenge Heimdall’s and Loki’s death. He truly has nothing more that he could lose.

Scene: Tony and Nebula’s spaceship

- We see Nebula for the first time in this trailer. This is most definitely the ship the Guardians we’re using in the last film. She steps around the corner and is either going toward the cockpit or away from the cockpit, I can't distinguish. She is very slow in her movements, pausing and looking down. (Could this be that she just saw Tony die??) She looks defeated. Does she need the same amount of food and water and oxygen that humans need? This makes me wonder about how much of her is a robot.

“We lost friends. We lost family.”

- Nebula’s hand is sliding off Tony’s shoulder. I didn’t see any movement from Tony. With the wording that goes along with this scene, we are led to assume that this is when Tony dies. ... NOT ON MY WATCH MARVEL!

Scene: In Chinatown or in an actual Asian city.

- We see a hooded figure wiping blood off of this weird looking sword thing. Honestly, at first, I thought they brought daredevil into Avengers. I knew they wouldn’t, but I had no clue who this was.

-Nat stands behind this hooded figure who is standing over the body of a man in business apparel and two other men in the background in white clothing. The guy at the hooded man’s feet is most likely the boss and still looks alive at this shot. The hooded man begins to remove his hood and then a mask. It shows unruly hair and I was freaking out thinking it was Klaw. Who else has hair like this?

“We lost a part of ourselves”

-IT'S FREAKING CLINT. But is it? Or is this is new alter ego Robin? Robin is the alter ego of Hawkeye but Robin only came after a bad event. I'm betting he lost someone in his family if not all. Think about it. In infinity war, Nat said that Clint chose to be with his family instead of fighting Thanos. What would push Clint to leave his family again and become this vigilante-esque man? IF HIS FAMILY GOT DUSTED. Clint ‘loses a part of himself’ and becomes Robin, the bad-boy alter ego of Hawkeye.

“This is the fight of our lives”

Scene: Nat and Cap are dressed and ready to go into action and standing in the quinjet.

-Cap brings out his compass with the picture of Peggy. My goodness the love that this man has for her is crazy. I know that there are people who low-key ship Cap and Nat (I was even on board for a bit), but I don’t think anyone should be with Cap unless it’s Peggy. Those two were meant to be together, but sadly, time kept them apart. RIP Peggy Carter.

- Nat to Cap “This is going to work, Steve.” Cap, “I know it is.” looks over to Nat “Because I don’t know what I’m going to do if it doesn’t” Okay, guys! There’s a plan! There is no indication of what they’re doing or where they’re going but at least there’s a plan!

At this point, we get some Bomb™ music and the wonderful intro to the title of this movie AVENGERS: END GAME

“Hi, uh, is anyone home?”

-okay wait hold up. WHAT? Isn’t that Scott’s voice?

Scene: The Avengers compound. Looking at a screen (the same screen that showed Scott as MISSING)

“This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago at the airport in Germany? I got really big.”

- Steve and Natasha were surprised with this video on the screen. Steve stands up, confusion on his face. Wait, he’s alive? He asks “Is this an old message?” Nat then stands up.

“Ant man? Ant ma — I know you know who — I know you know that.”

Nat says “That’s the front door” 

- In the background of the security footage, we see that Scott came up in this great looking van. So now we have both Scott and Clint coming back to help out the team. Did Scott also lose his daughter?

“That’s me. Can you buzz me in?”

End of Trailer!

AND IT COMES OUT IN APRIL GUYS I’M SO EXCITED!

[ame-fanapprentice]

First Impressions

((as usual minor spoilers for the arcana game.  As I write more of this story it will focus more on my interpretations of events that happen pre-game story and during the in-game events itself.  You do not have to be fully caught up with the game to read, but beware some events may not make sense without having played through each route.  This first part is just how Ame and Asra met!

Otherwise please enjoy!! (●´ω｀●) ))

I had busied myself with the various orders that flew by me.  It seemed as if the whole of Vesuvia was at our little stand.  Rushed crowds of people flew by on their way to the palace, stopping through the walkway of vendors that had been created.  Another bag of tea mix.

Around me was an array of bizarre sights and sounds I had never seen before.  Next to our stand was the sweat aroma of fresh breads.  The other side had wooden carvings and trinkets practically overflowing from their booth.  Another ground ginger.

My aunt manned the front of the booth: passing orders in and out to the passing people.  How had she never had help before?  Her movements were fluid, seamless.  She had everything down to a science.   Another bag of tea mix.

When the chaos had finally died down I lifted myself from my work, brushing the sweat from my brow.  My aunt waved to the last customer before slumping down herself onto a small stood.  “That’s the worst of it over Ame.”  “There no more?”  She shook her head softly “No there will be more alright, but everyone would have just about gone into the palace by now.”  She stood back up, rolling her sleeves and walking over to my own work space “I’ll get another few batches ready.  Go get us something good to eat.”  My eyes looked over to the bread maker's stand, “Other than pumpkin bread, please.”  She gave a playful smile, and I dug out a few coins from our makeshift bank.  I placed a handmade mask over my face and made my way into the vendors’ walkway.

Summer was at its peak, allowing for the masquerade’s beginnings to still be drenched in hazy evening sunlight.  Warm hues and lights decorated every possible column, contrasted with purple banners and ribbons.  The makeshift market was still rather busy with latecomers, most making their rounds before leaving to the palace entrance.  It stood triumphantly over the walkway, reflecting the last few rays of sunlight down on the whole of Vesuvia.  

I took a brief glance around at the other vendors.  Most were selling basic wares and foods, nothing too different from the morning markets I would walk through.  Almost every face I met had a signature animal mask on their face, some with costumes to match.   I caught sight of a small booth selling simple looking masks.  I almost stopped when the vendor’s purple eyes met mine.  He gave me a welcoming smile and a small wave as I walked past him.  

“Two toasties, fresh out of the oven!”  I handed the vendor her payment, but she put a hand out in denial, “I still owe your aunt for that tea mix.”  She winked at me “consider us even, ‘kay?”  I gave a quick thank you and made my way back down the aisle.  The vendor with the masks caught my eye once more.  He was chatting with a customer, who looked amazed at something at the table.  They smiled, giving him payment before walking past me cheerfully.  He placed the money into a pouch, looking up at me and giving another hello.

“Care to buy a mask?”  he called out “they’re all homemade.”  I slowed my pace and looked briefly at his stand.  Each wooden mask depicted a different animal, painted with strange markings to decorate them.  They were colorful, a little rough at some points, but overall rather cute.   “I also do some magic if you’re interested.”  “Magic?”  He shrugged “I can read a fortune or two.  I have some protective charms available as well.”

I laughed a little “charms only do so much.”  “it’s the thought that counts.”  My curiosity was still chasing the idea of a fortune reading.  Most of the magicians I’ve encountered tell repetitive ones: “you’ll find wealth in your future”, “you’ll find the love of your life soon”, “you’ll die doing what you love.”  It’s safe to say that fortunes are either a hit or a miss.

“Maybe soon.  I need to get back.”  “Alright”, he smiled at me “but if you change your mind.”

Returning to our small stand I passed my aunt her share of the food, returning the coins to their rightful place.  She finished setting down the last of the tea bags before grabbing the food from my hand happily.  “Good choice, i’m starving.”  We unwrapped our rolls and began eating.

As evening broke way to night fewer folks made their way down the vendor’s aisle.  If anything, more shopkeepers were taking turns leaving to enjoy the party on their own.  I took notice of the magician’s stand, a few spots down from our own.  Was he that close to us the whole time?

He watched be for a moment, before packing a few of his things away and walking over to our own little stand.  “Hello there!”, my aunt greeted him “how may we interest you?”  I watched the magician scan over our goods “Herbal teas...dried herbs... you have just about everything huh?”  “Only stuff to cure your ailments.”  I crossed my arms confidently.  Now this, this is true magic.  The magician saw my challenge, “My night has been a bit slow sadly.  How about a trade?”  My aunt followed his gaze to me, “A trade?” I asked.

“I have some spare charms available, maybe some of those for a herb mix or two?”  I cut off my aunt who was about to confirm the trade “I think they worth more.”  “Ame...” my aunt muttered under her breath.  “And I think they’re worth about the same” the magician smirked “a little extra magic won’t hurt your herbs.”

My aunt quickly tried to calm the situation “that sounds like a fine offer sir we’ll be glad to make the trade.”  Our gaze was locked, we stood unmoving.  “How we know your word true?”  I admit my embarrassment at the broken words flowing from my mouth, but my mind was already racing with different possibilities.  “Magic can have different uses besides healing.  Maybe I could show you.”  Even behind his wooden mask I saw the challenge in his eyes.  My aunt looked at me; I read her expression clearly: let it go, Ame.  I grabbed my small pouch, already pre-prepared with the latest spells and potions I learned and created.  The magician’s eyes followed mine as we found a clear spot in the vendor aisle.

We circled each other as tradition, marking out territory to commence the duel.  I gazed at the handful of vials attached to my pouch: each a different combination of a spell.  The magician’s fingers glowed a gentle lavender, itching with magic.  We took a stance, and committed to our first spell.

I tore the cork from the vial and sent the contents into the air, letting them follow a path drawn with my arms.  The liquid glowed and sparkled as I muttered and incantation, gently blooming small transparent flowers.  I raised my arm high into the air, and with a satisfying flick I sent the liquid downwards.  A rush of warm wind blew against my legs, and golden rays of light splashed like waves against the cobblestone road.  With a raking motion my arm drew back, bringing the liquid back at my feet in a small glowing circle.  

I gave a satisfied look at the magician, surprised?  I saw him take a deep breath, and begin to mutter his own spell.  The light grew from his fingers, stretching in between them like a slow lighting bolt.  He twisted his hands rapidly, pulling them apart to be outstretched at his sides.  Like feathers the light carried down his arms and dripped beautifully onto the cobblestone.  With one last word, he closed his hands and sent a rush of air to me.

A crowd was beginning to form around us now.  They were careful to stand a good distance away from us, but their mutters of curiosity and bewilderment drew more attention.

I shook my wind blown hair to even it out.  We took another few steps, mirroring each other’s movements.  I took the next move, drawing a different potion and this time taking it down.  It’s heat scratched against my throat, but I didn’t flinch.  The magician began to prepare his next round as well, muttering small spells under his breath.  The potion will take a minute, but maybe I can try this instead.

I reached down into my bag and searched for a small bag.  My fingers opened the pouch, and I felt a small collection of powdered herbs dig info my fingernails.  Returning my hand upwards I took a large pinch of the mixture.  The colorful herbs flew in a horizontal arc around me, splashing onto the cobble once more.  Seeing the contents of the first potion still around my feet, I poured the remaining pinch onto a spot in the circle.  It solidified, and as I bent down to reach for it I kept my gaze on my challenger.  I grabbed at the solidified herbs, and like tossing a stone I sent it skimming across the cobble, brushing over the flattened arch of powder.  The discarded powder followed through, each speck darkening in hue.  I raised my arm upwards, and returned to a standing position.  The solidified herb followed as well, sending a rainbow of powder over both me and the crowd.  

The crowd applauded and cheered over the spell.  Faintly I felt the exhaustion from the spells beginning to chip away at me.  The crowd’s eyes turned to the magician, who had finished his incantations.  Adding a dramatic spin his hand traced the air around him.  He took a step, raising his arm in preparation, and shot his arm downwards.  Glittering specks of magic flew from his fingertips.  Drawing them back like a whip the magic returned backwards.  Like snow it fell onto the astonished crowd.

The potion I drank was beginning to lend its power to me.  I felt a great heat building deep within me.  The two of us took another few paces, and I made my final move.  Grabbing one last vial from my pouch I poured its contents into my hand.  Following the spells instructions I sprinkled it onto the cobblestone in a familiar triangular pattern.  With outstretched palms I reached to the shape, dragging flames from each splatter.  The crowd gasped in amazement, and I pulled my hand upwards higher.  The fire jumped into the air towards me.  Like a snake it circled around my shoulders and down my arm.  I made a small hole in my hand, leading the fire into my palms.  Please work I begged, feeling the almost unbearable heat coil into my palms.  I took a deep breath, aimed my hands towards the sky, and blew a massive burst of flame to the stars.  The crowd applauded, and out of breath I turned to the magician, Beat that.

The magician stood there, amazed.  He thought for a moment, then bent down onto one knee.  One hand hovered above the ground, the other the same only his fingers touched the cobble confidently.  Muttering an incantation he raised the untouched hand upwards.  Water began to draw from under his hand.  Slowly, he raised himself upwards, bringing the water with him into a tall pillar.  He took his hand and cut against the water, bending it and letting it run up his arms.  The more water he drew, the more it swirled and slithered around him.  And with a final twirl, he began to aim towards me for the final blow.

“Make way for Princess Nadia Satrinava.”  Both of us were caught off guard by the announcer pushing his way through the crowd.  The magician’s aim faltered, and instead sent water flying through the air and landing directly on a neatly decorated figure.  

The crowd gasped and shrunk away, both of us looked horrified.  The princess looked down at her soaked clothes, shaking off the water from her wrists.  “Run?” I turned to the magician, “Yes.” he quickly replied.

We took off to the direction of the palace, pushing through the crowd of people trying to stop us.  Crossing through the vendor’s aisle.  The closer we got the more ravish and fanciful the outfits of the guests became.  I watched as the magician began to take off towards the interior of the palace.  “No!  This way!”  I grabbed onto his wrist, directing him down a walkway towards what appeared to be a small outdoor garden.   

Racing down beautifully carved stairs and into the well trimmed bushes we dodged our way through the foliage.  The magician ducked down behind the leaves of an overgrown willow tree, I followed after him.  There were footsteps of guards getting closer to us.  “Hold on a moment.” he whispered.

He uttered a quick spell, two glittering golden eggs appears in his hand.  He cracked one over his own head, sending a small spell of glitter down and into his silver hair.  Then he followed with the other onto my own.  We shrunk back towards the trunk of the willow tree, him putting a finger to my lips.

The clanking of guard armor slowed “Which way?” “I think they went this way!”.  They rushed in the opposite direction, allowing us to breath a sigh of relief.  Our eyes met again, and I let out a fit of laughter that had been growing inside me.  He joined in, the two of us sharing a moment under the tree.

It was quiet and private underneath its flowers.  There was still the noise of the party echoing in the garden, but the foliage seemed to dampen it.  The light of the lanterns and moon flickered through the leaves and flowers.  Save for our laughter, we were alone.  

“That was some show we put on”, I saw soft dimples on either cheek from the magician’s smile, “And that fire?  I haven’t seen a spell like that before!”  “Your water!  How you do it?  Where it come from?”  Both of us were at a loss: out of breath, weary from the magical display, and laughing in amazement at our own abilities.

The magician lifted his wooden mask from his face.  His skin, though dirtied in a few spots, was soft and golden.  His eyes were tired, but still full of life and confidence they kept a vibrant purple flame alive in them.  Soft lips outlined his mouth, followed by dimples on either side of a grand smile.  

I removed my own mask, allowing him to study my face.  A moment passed between us, before the magician broke the silence “my name is Asra, and yours?”  “Ame.”  Asra fiddled with his mask slightly, “it suits you”.  I looked through the leaves and saw faint silhouettes of party guests walking by.  They laughed though glimmering golden outfits.  “I’m sorry.”  “P-pardon?”  “You were right.  Your magic is just as strong.”  Asra looked surprised at my comment.  “You know I still have a lot to learn” he responded before another silence could overtake us.  I raised an eyebrow “how you mean?”

“Those spells your just saw were actually pretty simple” his cheeks grew flushed, and his eyes darted away “I just used a little illusion magic to help them stand out.”  I quickly began to realize the new terminology, Illusion magic?  Those were simple spells?  I began to hide away, embarrassed.  How much do I actually know about magic?

Asra must have seen my embarrassment, “what’s wrong?  Are you alright?”  “The spells I did.  Those were most complex I did” I muttered.  “And?”  “You say your magic simple spell!  Those looked complex like mine!”  The magician’s concern turned to surprise.  I hugged my knees close to my chest, hiding the lower half of my face in them.  “I only know potion magic.  Your magic so different, so special.”  

“If you’d like, I could show you a little of what I know.”  Asra placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.  I lifted my head from my knees.  He quickly corrected himself, “I’m no teacher but...”  I smiled at him, unraveling myself, “Show me.”

Asra’s face blushed, he positioned himself to be sitting cross legged before me.  I followed into a similar position, and he pulled a small pouch from his back pocket.  Reaching into the bag he pulled out an ornate deck of cards.  “How about I start by reading your fortune?”  I gave a skeptical nod, watching him carefully.  Asra gently shuffled his deck.  Quickly he took his removed mask and placed it on the ground between us, creating a makeshift table.  He pulled three cards from the deck, placing them in order one by one onto the mask.

One of his hands kept hold of the deck, the other flipped the first card over.  I’ve never seen a card like this before?  “The first card represents your past: who you used to be” Asra explained as he finished turning the card over.  “The empress, upright”  I looked down at the gentle figure decorated in rich velvet clothes and flowers surrounding her.  “Life has been kind to you, allow those experiences to guide the paths you take.”  It sounded correct from what I could see.  I had my family to help me when I needed them, a kind younger sister to play with, my aunt to teach me everything I need.  Asra seemed satisfied by my expression, and began to move down the line to the next card.

“What the difference?”  “Huh?”  “Upright and reversed.  Is one...good?”  Asra paused for a moment “Well, in a way I guess it can be interpreted like that.  Upright cards generally lean towards positive meanings yes, but it depends on how they are interpreted through.  An upright card can be just as much of a warning as a reversed one.”  I nodded in understanding, allowing our focus to return to the cards on the mask.

“The second” he continued “is your present: who you are right now”.  His fingers flipped the center card over, revealing the illuminated image of a green and flowing landscape.  Atop a stony pedestal stood a figure, wrapped in traveler’s clothes and gazing into the distant horizon.  Something familiar rested in their stance.  

“The fool, upright.”  “The fool?”  “You have a bright future ahead of you.” his expression softened kindly “your path is uncertain, but you have everything you need to follow the correct one.”  Asra lifted his eyes from the card to mine “it seems as though you have a lot of things figured out already.”  I smiled, blushing softly.

“The last is your future”  Asra concluded “Most consider this a warning of a path they might take, but there’s always a chance to mean positivity.”  He flipped over the last of the cards.  I gazed at the card, relieved at first that it was upright.

“The hanged man...reversed.”  Reversed?  I took another look at the card.  A raven headed figure appeared to be falling before me.  The vibrant read appearing against the background like blood.  “He says to be cautious, to learn to control yourself before it is too late.”  “Something bad going to happen?”  “In the future you’ll need to learn to accept defeat.  To not push yourself to your limits, or else...”  Asra’s voice trailed off, and his gaze drifted away from the card.  I looked at Asra with concerned eyes.  Silence fell over our shaded area, save for the cheers and dancing echoing from inside the palace walls.  

“He says, I need to ask for help?” “In the future, yes.”  “Do you know, when?”  Asra shook his head.  I awkwardly asked him, “Can I start now?”  He turned his head in confusion towards me, “can you help me become better magician?  A strong magic user, like you?”  “Ame I would but there’s just so much I don’t know still.”  He picked up the cards off of his mask, returning them to the deck.  “But you know enough to start.”  I placed a hand on his knee, hoping my confidence would rub off onto him.  

Asra finished returning the cards to his pocket, safely protected in their small pouch.  I removed my hand, and the two of us returned to leaning against the trunk of the willow tree.  “There’s so much I have to do, so much I need to learn.”  His purple eyes turned to me “but, if you really wish to learn, I can try.”  

[divagonzo]

Naming the Barrister

Ch. 14 of Probate

The Potions Master, by @hillyminne

Ao3 // FF.net

A/N: Rated T for general details. Ace Safe. Draco Malfoy appearance, for those interested. This ties into Cherish, my work from Interhouse from a few years back.

“Was she…” Harry couldn’t finish his thought.

“Whatever I witnessed, I will not tell you. You’ve had enough for a lifetime, seeing your father like that. Seeing your Mum, too, would probably be too much. So, for now, trust me when I say that Severus treated her respectfully.”

Harry accepted Kingsley’s explanation without comment. The last memory gutted him, leaving Harry completely numb to anything else. He sat on the floor, looking at his own hands, ignoring Kingsley safely extracting the memory from the Pensieve and stoppering it into the vial. So many thoughts crowded his mind, from seeing his Father, sprawled out in the stairs, looked upon with mild disdain by the one whose memories he shared, to the moment the memory went dark.

“Harry, ready to go?” Harry looked up at Kingsley like he was speaking gibberish. Kingsley reached out his hand and Harry gladly took it. He was helped up by the older wizard standing in front of him. “Come on you, let’s get out of here. You’ve had too much to deal with today.” Kingsley put an arm around Harry and they departed their small office.

Harry realized what was going on after they left the small office. “We’re going to Mrs. Tonks house, right? What then?”

“After I talk with Andromeda for a few minutes, I’ll take you to the Burrow. I spoke with Arthur earlier and he said that he’ll have dinner waiting for you whenever you get home.”

Harry felt a frisson of warmth wash over him. Home. He had a house, one he hadn’t spent much time in and had to do something with it, eventually. But for now, he’d happily spend time at the Burrow, hopefully having some time to himself or maybe spend some time with Ginny, even if it was nothing more than just chores around the house. Maybe a kip on the couch after dinner wouldn’t be so bad, at least until a nightmare would wake him up, so he thought.

The two men entered the lift and Kingsley tapped his wand onto the 4 button. Harry remembered that this was a particular lift and the only private way to get to the Department of Mysteries.

“You know that you can’t talk about any of this to anyone, not until the Ministry gets settled some, right?”

“What about Mr. Weasley? It’s not like I can share this with Ron and Hermione since they are on the other side of the world.”

Kingsley sighed. “Yes, sure, Arthur will be fine. But no one else, not even Miss Weasley, unfortunately. It’s not like I don’t trust her but the fewer people who know right now, the better.”

“Do you think Mrs. Weasley would say anything to anyone?”

“No but there are also her kids coming and going at the house and it might slip. I trust them but I can’t take chances, not when we have so many people missing.” Kingsley rubbed his eyes with his very large hands. “I don’t want to give anyone any false hope until we know for certain.”

The lift opened and the two men stepped out. Harry watched the gate close then the doors. The moment the doors closed, a wall appeared. “Wow, I see what you mean, sir.”

“Minister’s benefit, Harry. Only a special few get to use that one so no nattering about it.”

“Sir,” he replied back.

“Now we need to get the Floo so we can depart. Andromeda is expecting us.” The men made their way through the myriad of corridors that make up the Ministry, navigating nondescript door after door, with so few designations for departments.

“Sir, are all of these offices empty?” I don’t see anything on any one of them.”

Kingsley stopped in the middle of the corridor. “This is a consequence of the coup. So many departments shuddered because there just weren’t enough Purebloods to work the jobs. Those who came to work did so, but they were immediately promoted to directorships and other important oversight jobs. Those who actually did the work vanished or were banished, and even arrested for being Muggleborns. Once those arrests happened, whole departments ground to a halt. So much of the ministry fell into shambles that departments closed.” Kingsley took a deep breath. “Our first priority was the vital offices, like the Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement, and then Floo Transit and International Portkeys. I also formed Missing Persons for a temporary office, to account for the possible thousands not yet accounted for. The odd ones like Sports and Magical Cooperation will have to wait. Who knew being a bureaucrat was such a pain in the arse?”

“I hope I can be of some help, sir.”

“You are and you will, I’m sure. Come on. Andromeda is expecting us.”

The men continued on, making their way for the public lifts. They turned a corner for the main corridor and stopped before running face first into Narcissa Malfoy along with Draco Malfoy.

“Minister,” her voice was ice as she regarded both of them with casual disdain. “I heard that you were running affairs in the interim until a Minister is voted in.” Kingsley didn’t respond to her backhanded comment. “Mrs. Malfoy,” Kingsley put his hand out and she finally relented, letting him take it and gently hold it a second before letting it go. “And Draco,” Kingsley did the same yet Draco refused. Kingsley took his hand back without comment.

“Mr. Potter.” She clutched her purse in front of her with both hands, acting like it was a very weak shield against the two of them.

“Potter,” Draco sneered. “Have they brought you in yet for the mess you made?”

Harry snorted, pointedly ignoring him. “Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry regarded the stately witch before him, with immaculate robes and not a hair out of place. But it was a facade, Harry thought, in seeing the bags under her eyes, hidden so skillfully with a concealing charm that didn’t quite cover the exhaustion, as well as her bloodshot pale blue eyes. He quietly wondered if she was weathering the storm of Lucius being gone again, possibly turning traitor on all of the others from the Coup to save their necks.

“Do you need help, Mr. Potter?” She stood still while Draco stood at his Mum’s left shoulder, scowling.

“Thank you,” Harry said politely and put his hand out.

“Don’t mother.” He gently put his hand on his Mum’s shoulder but she shrugged slightly.

“Draco, later,” she softly scolded and she reached out for his hand. Harry took it gently and squeezed it ever so briefly before releasing it. Her hands were soft, refined and delicate, but Harry knew that she was one of the most frightening women he now knew. Anyone who would lie to Voldemort’s face and not betray herself was one extremely formidable witch. Thank goodness she valued Draco over Voldemort.

“Potter, you – “

Kingsley cut across him. “Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you wait. I think Mr. Potter might have more to say.”

Harry glanced at the sallow appearing young man, wearing tailored robes but with hollowed cheeks and waxy ashen skin. His robes hung on him like they were a size too big, having lost weight too.

“Actually, sir, I won’t. I doubt Mr. Malfoy would truly appreciate what his mother has done for everyone, including me. If anyone deserves our thanks, it’s Mrs. Malfoy.”

Harry knew that he had piqued Draco’s interest with his cryptic comment but saw the immediate appreciation by Mrs. Malfoy by the slight tilt of her head and the very small yet fast smile before stilling her features.

“Minister, if I might have a moment of your time?”

“Why yes,” he agreed and the two of them stepped down the hallway. Not a moment later, Harry heard a soft muted buzzing in his ears, ensuring their privacy.

Harry surreptitiously watched Draco standing across the hallway from him.

“Potter, you leave my Mother alone. She’s been through enough.”

“I am, actually. All I did was thank her. That’s called being polite, Draco. I assumed you knew that, but then when you tried to betray me after I saved your life, I wouldn’t expect you do.”

“Listen, Potter – “

Harry turned and Draco backed up one step. “No, I won’t. It’s fortunate that Ron only punched you. You’re damn lucky he didn’t beat the bogies and make you look like Mad-Eye.”

Draco ignored the obvious insult. “You’d have left me in there to burn, wouldn’t you?” Draco crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway to a locked office.

“Ron would have. Hermione would have. I didn’t.”

The two young men stood there quietly for a moment.

“We’re not friends, Potter.”

“No, we’re not. I believe I made that abundantly clear that evening standing in the front hallway at Hogwarts.”

“I made an offering of friendship, Potter.” Draco shut his mouth instantly, betraying his feelings.

“Yeah, after you insulted the first two people who were genuinely nice to me, you tosser. But then you can’t fathom that, can you? I bet you’re accustomed to people falling all over themselves because of the Malfoy name. Pshaw,” Harry waved his hand around. “God, it’s been years and you’re still mental over that moment?”

“Of course I am!” Draco yelled but the other two didn’t turn around. “Father was disappointed in me for my failure. I let him down.” Draco went back to sulking.”

“Well, you did yourself no favors being a git.”

Narcissa walked back up with the Minister, shaking his hand politely. “Thank you for your time. I shall call upon you in the next week to make an appointment to discuss things further.” She turned her face a mask and put her hand out to Harry. “And thank you for what you said, Mr. Potter. I appreciate it.”

Draco stood next to his mother looking like he’d sucked on an over-ripe lemon.

“Don’t expect such graciousness from me, Potter.”

“Well, I was hoping for tolerance but if that’s beyond you, that’s fine,” Harry cheeked.

Narcissa stopped and turned around, staring down both young men. “Draco, come along, now.”

“Yes, Mother.” He turned heel and quickly walked away. Kingsley came to stand next to Harry. “Did she tell me the truth? Did she lie to Voldemort on your behalf?”

“She did, sir. She needed a way to get into the castle safely and my apparent dead body would be her way in. She knew I was alive and she still had the nerve to lie to Voldemort.”

Kingsley let out a soft whistle. “She’s bloody courageous, that’s for sure.”

“It was, sir. He could have easily sent someone else.  But he chose Narcissa to do it.” Harry sniffed. “It’s a wonder that he didn’t send Bellatrix to do it.”

“If what she said is true, then he wouldn’t have sent Bellatrix. She sent someone whom he trusted but only so far. He assumed that with Draco inside the castle she’d be amenable to his demands. Instead, she took an enormous risk, all in the faintest, slimmest, wildest hope that she could be reunited with her son.”

“She told you all this?”

“She did. You’ll corroborate it later including what happened afterward but for now I’ll take it as fact.”

Harry turned to Kingsley, towering over him. “I stand by what I said. Malfoy’s a git but I still saved his life. I’d do it all over again, too, and not just because it meant Mrs. Malfoy would save me.”

“Life sure is messy, isn’t it Harry?”

“It is, Sir. I can’t wrap my head around half of it.”

Kingsley started walking towards the second set of lifts heading towards the atrium. They were already late for Mrs. Tonk’s late afternoon tea, by their watches.

They went to the Floo and Kingsley yelled out her particular address and he disappeared in a whirlwind of green flames. Harry stepped in after him and repeated the destination, twisting away through various chimneys and fireplaces, catching faint glimpses of parlours and living rooms of so many witches and wizards.

He landed with a thud at their destination and saw Kingsley in the room. Harry stepped out of the enormous fireplace and saw Andromeda Tonks receiving a warm hug from Kingsley. Harry looked away, feeling like he was intruding on such an intimate moment between two of the remaining people left who meant something to him.

Harry looked at the mantle above the fireplace and saw the various wizarding pictures in silver frames. Ted Tonks, who always seemed to have a smile in every picture Andromeda every showed of him, laughing uproariously with Andromeda hugged into his side, looking quite petite compared to his stature. Next was Ted sitting in a rocking chair, holding a bundle of joy in his arms with shocking pink hair. The attire looked out of date so he guessed that the infant in the picture was Tonks and not little Teddy. In another picture were Remus and Tonks, waving at the camera that took their picture, looking tired and somewhat worse for wear, but smiling happily. In the last one, in the largest frame, was Tonks, looking exhausted and thin, holding a squirming Teddy to her chest, watching him with such a look of love on her face. Remus was sitting next to her bed, sleeping with his head thrown back and obviously snoring.

Harry secretly wiped his hand across his eyes at the last one. He knew that Ted had been dead a short time when Tonks gave birth to Teddy. Teddy’s grandfather never knew of him.

Anger boiled in his stomach, that the bastards took away someone so precious to his Godson.

“Harry,” a quiet voice behind him bade him turn around. He did and saw that Kingsley and Andromeda were sitting down across from one another with a platter of biscuits and half sandwiches and a steaming pot of Irish Breakfast tea, Ted’s favorite. Harry’s small plate in front of his seat included a rather large bar of chocolate, probably from Honeyduke’s.

“Kingsley said you had a rough go of it today helping him. When he sent his Patronus earlier he asked if I’d serve tea when you arrived and have some chocolate on hand.”

Harry regarded the courageous witch in front of him while breaking off an enormous piece of chocolate from the bar. He tucked into it and felt a slowly warming growth spread out from his stomach to his fingertips and toes. While Andromeda Black Tonks resembled her older sister some and virtually none to her younger one, there were marked differences between them now. Bellatrix never had such kind eyes or a collection of laugh lines on her forehead. No, the big difference now, besides the fact that her older sister was dead, who also murdered her daughter, was the myriad of wrinkles carved into her emaciated face.

“Harry, drink up before it gets cold. Irish Breakfast tea is grotty when it is tepid, much less cold.”

Harry looked at the older witch and smiled. “Yes, Mrs. Tonks.”

Andromeda tutted. “It’s Andromeda, Harry. Mrs. Tonks was a kindly Muggle proprietor of a small inn in the Lake District.”

Harry smiled, feeling the horror of the day slowly falling off of his shoulders.

[keywestlou]

COVID…..THE PAIN, SUFFERING AND FEAR THAT COMES WITH IT

COVID…..THE PAIN, SUFFERING AND FEAR THAT COMES WITH IT - http://keywestlou.com/covid-the-pain-suffering-and-fear-that-comes-with-it/With the advent of omicron, the number of virus cases seems to have increased. Especially in the Key West area. The stories close friends share are unbelievable. Recent friends inflicted include frequent visitor Don from Syracuse, Donna and Terri, and now Jean and Joe Thornton. Interestingly all had the two shots plus the booster. Don got COVID for a second time. The second worse than the first. Donna and Terri suffered through it. I only communicated with Donna. By telephone. She sounded horrible. Last night, I found out Jean and Joe were hit hard. They have been in Key West for a few weeks. So the virus had to get them while here. I spoke with Jean by phone last night. She says she is on the mend. She sounded terrible! Totally exhausted. Like each word was an effort to articulate. She told me Joe was even worse. Scary worse. I am not even going to try to describe what he has been experiencing. Just horrible! Jean said Joe was better yesterday. Not close yet to a recovery. My admonition: Get vaccinated and boostered if you have not, wear a mask, and exercise social distancing. Better yet, stay home! I recall my Catholic high school teaching by the good nuns: Stay away from the near occasions of sin. Re COVID, stay away from places where the virus has to be. We are all big people and know right from wrong. Speaking of masks, we are now told to get better masks. I received my KN95s a few days ago. Soon COVID could bring happy times with it. Sounds crazy, I know. However, it was announced yesterday a new study indicates cannabis could help in preventing the virus. If so, think of what life may be. First, throw off your masks. Smoke pot, get high, and by so doing protect yourself from the COVID virus. We will be dancing in the streets. What a world it will be! Tennis star Novac Djokovic should not be allowed to play in Australia. As a guest especially. Australia has rules to protect its people. They were hard hit. Djokovic comes in to play in a tournament to begin soon and lies. He had the virus, did not report it, and did not do the required 10 or 14 day quarantine. Lied orally and in writing. He still wants to play in the tournament. He's #1 in the world. He should not be allowed. Everyone must follow the rules. Failing to do so, such persons must suffer the consequences. It's like Commit the crime, do the time. Last COVID item this morning. The virus has been affecting Army recruiting. Fewer are enlisting. The Army has increased the enlistment bonus from $40,000 to $50,000. A new requirement however: The enlistee must serve 6 years. My grandson Robert. Continues to make me proud. He is a senior due to graduate later this term. His classmates voted him the "Best All Around Personality." That's Robert. Not surprising. He continues to impress me. A top student, great tennis player, involved in all kinds of broadcasting activities. Everyone loves him! I gave him a lecture last night. A grandfather's prerogative. I told him he is the All American boy. People see it in him and respect him. I advised he must work to always be that type individual. I have seen too many reach their 30's and 40's and change. News from the university and college level. Undergraduate enrollments are falling. Since the fall 2021 enrollments, the number is less 465,300. Yes, that number fewer students in one year. The number is expected to continue dropping with the fall 2022 enrollments. The decline since 2019 is 6.6 percent. Universities/colleges are alarmed. The statistics indicate more than 1 million fewer students since 2019. The schools suffer. Dormitories and classroom buildings go empty with such a drop in enrollments. I saw it happen in the 1980's when I was Chairman of the Board of Visitors at the Syracuse Law School. The Chancellor put me on a special committee to find out why, what could be done, etc. One discovery involved students from Jewish families on Long Island. A huge entering block each year. The economy prevented the families from sending their children to Syracuse. They did not have the money. Instead the kids went to community colleges near home on the Island. Empty dormitories were a dime a dozen. The central administration wanted the law school to rent or buy one for law students. The law school is technically separate from the University, runs itself as a separate business. Perhaps the law school was more frugal. Whatever, it had money. The negotiation wasn't difficult. The law school refused to buy or rent a dormitory. The University ended up giving a dormitory building to the law school for nothing. Why are fewer persons enrolling? Two things. The pandemic. Jobs hard to come by. The other, the past decade has shown there is little value in a college degree these days. The wages paid to college grads are considerably less than they used to be. Ergo, why waste money going to college. Ronnie Specter died yesterday at the age of 78. A singing icon from the 1960's. She was lead in a three female group called the Rosettes. They brought an "edge" to "girl group sound" at the time. Be My Baby their hit that introduced it. Everything is up.  Consumer prices are experiencing their biggest rise in nearly 40 years. Inflation is up 7 percent. The rise has resulted in higher rents, food more expensive, and an increase in gas prices. None good. Many economists are saying things will soon get better. I do not believe them. They will only get dramatically worse before turning to the better. Enjoy your day!  

[shadowatching]

Ohh! For the breaking post, I'm a short girl who likes to go out on dates. I enjoy cuddling and spending time with the person I love. I enjoy taking naps a bit too much and am somewhat of a lazy person. For a character, I'll choose Reaper! Interesting post by the way!! :3

                     HOW WOULD THEY BREAK YOU? ( CLOSED )  –   4 / 21

I had to re-work this several times, because Reaper likes to go from zero to coerced murder in three headcanons. Sorry it took so long.

Rating: Sa/fe for w/ork

Warnings: Standard fare, and a lot of effort to keep it that way. Reaper is way too extra. Not a little extra- w a y too extra. Anyways, we’ve got kidnapping, brainwashing, coercion, mentions torture, mentions of murder, starvation, denial of needs, death threats, and torture tactics. I think that’s the gist of it.

                                    —————————————

REAPER:

Why he’d match well with you:

- Naps are good, because dealing with Reaper’s particular brand of fucked-up is going to leave you exhausted.

- Lots of dates! If by “dates”, you mean “jumping around safe houses”, or “leaving town in the dead of night”.

- Or “watching Reaper torture a man”.

- There are endless possibilities!

- The cuddling thing ( it’ll take some time for you to get that desperate, though ) is going to take a lot of getting used to for him. It’s…..really weird for him. Maybe kind of nice. Who’s supposed to be conditioning who, again?

                                   —————————————

How he’d break you:

- Gags you. Not because you talk too much, but because it muffles the crying. He also enjoys the sick satisfaction of seeing your chin damp with saliva, and the corners of your mouth turn red and sore when he pulls the gag a little too tight.

- Keeps you handcuffed to something, usually at an angle that puts uncomfortable strain on your joints.

- You start out hanging from your wrists, the very tips of your sneakers scraping the floor for balance. Getting to sit with your arms twisted behind your back is an upgrade.

- When your wrists are bruised a deep, satisfying purple and your fingers seem to be permanently swollen from poor circulation, he uncuffs you.

- You’re allowed to roam freely. Anything off-limits will be on lockdown, anyways. He tells you this, and leaves you to your own decides. Not five minutes later, the front door’s biometric lock is screeching. Several rooms away, he laughs, and it sounds startlingly human.

- Reaper loves to taunt you with death. He’ll stroke your jaw with the tip of a shotgun, digging it into the space beneath the bone and watching you squirm from the ache. Threatens you on the daily, and sometimes makes as if he’s about to fulfill those threats when you need a good scare.

- Interrupting his sleep because you’re trying to escape again is one of those times. It’s like you just don’t fucking learn.

- Sometimes forgets that humans need to eat food to stay alive. Stumbling into a wall, or god help you, the wall that is him, is a good reminder.

- Starving you is only half-intentional, but it does help keep you passive and the least mount of obnoxious possible. Still, he loves when you’ve got the energy to put up a fight, and provokes you in completely unreasonable ways, like threatening to murder people, or actually murdering people.

- He’s not used to brainwashing people into liking him or depending on him for anything but death, so there’s a bit of a learning curve involved for both of you.

- Once he gets a handle on rewarding you, it starts to bring back memories of training Blackwatch recruits. Normally, anything that reminded him of a time Before Reaper would get blown to bits, the barrels of his rifles smoking as he emptied his clips into the offending thing.

-Instead, he considers the memories with a quiet fondness. Training recruits had left in a position that was a strange hybrid of parent, drill sergeant, and babysitter. Recruits also liked to bicker amongst themselves and run off to get killed, so they required around-the-clock management.

- You also seem to require that kind of supervision. The comparison softens him. Just a little. He still isn’t sure how to reward you for not being annoying all the time, because in Blackwatch rewards were usually bigger guns or running fewer laps- but still, it’s probably the only reason he doesn’t end you when you’re broken enough to come to him for comfort, of all things.

- Reaper likes to be the monster that crawls into bed with you at night, savoring the thrill of making every muscle in your body go rigid when you feel his breath on your neck. It really throws him for a loop when you decide to turn around and press your face into him, shuddering softly with tears. You don’t even try to articulate why, just burrow face-first into his coat.

- “I’m not your fucking teddy bear.”

- But he doesn’t push you away. You’re each other’s only constant, after all. In many of the same ways, he’s as broken as you are.

- Takes his mask off, and expects your tearful face to gasp and recoil. Snarls when you press a soft kiss to his jaw instead, and thank him. He uses the inhuman contortions and rows sharp, horrifying teeth to scare you. It works. You nearly wet yourself.

- But just as you have with everything else about him, you get used to it. He supposes that humans can adjust to anything, really, given enough time. He did, after all.

- Lets you curl into him at night, and although he hates the regularity with which it starts happening, he doesn’t discourage you, and he doesn’t admit that it’s changing him. No ver nada malo.

- There’s no real long-term plan for you. All he knows is that he’s keeping you, and he’ll be damned if that ever changes.

- More damned than he already is.

                                  —————————————

Notes: A few of these elements, mainly the biometric lock, were shamelessly based on this fanfiction by SLiverofJade on AO3. You should absolutely read it.

Translations:

No ver nada malo - “See no evil”, or so I hope. Google and all that.

[brooke0297]

Julie Purple Nail Polish (A Julie and the Phantoms Fic)

Masterlist

So last week was absolute garbage for me and after wallowing for a bit, I decided I needed to paint my nails and write some ghost bois fluff. Plus, I would pay Netflix an insane amount of money to let the boys have painted nails in the show. Sacha and Owen rock painted nails and I am HERE FOR IT. Enjoy lovelies!

It was just one of those days for Julie.

The days where the hole in her heart where her mom used to reside seemed to throb and made it hard to breathe. Where it got harder and harder to swallow the lump in her throat and the smallest thing could begin a meltdown.

They had been fewer and far between since the boys had literally dropped into her life. Those first few weeks after she’d found music again and they’d formed the band, she’d been more preoccupied with rehearsing and writing and saving her boys from evil ghost magicians. 

And the Orpheum. Oh man, the Orpheum had changed so many things in Julie’s life for the better. Andi Parker from Destiny Management had found her and now (with her dad’s blessing) Julie and The Phantoms had official representation. Andi was still booking some smaller gigs, but doors had been opened for the band that the boys hadn’t even seen when Sunset Curve was at its peak. Venues were calling, begging for the band to headline and had willingly agreed to strictly Friday and Saturday gigs (school came first was one of the first things Ray and Andi had agreed on).

The boys had recovered beautifully from Caleb’s curse. Alex was still worried about Willie and tried to hang out at some of their favorite places to make sure he was safe. Reggie was still following her dad around and had taken to casually making sure a forgetful Ray never left without his wallet and backup camera battery. Carlos had been clued in on the secret the night of the Orpheum and spent most of his free time while Ray was at a shoot playing Mario Kart with an invisible opponent. And Luke was still...Luke. The ability to touch the guys had remained after their luminescent group hug and no one was happier to take advantage of that fact than Luke. The casual touches he’d always given the boys extended to Julie now and she tried not to let on how much the hand holding and brush of their shoulders made her heart flip flop in her chest. It was hard to be sad when she had her ghost boys around to love her.

Today, however, it seemed her mood just couldn’t be salvaged.

Flynn had seen it immediately when Julie had trudged into school that morning: the dark circles and barely contained tears in her eyes. She hadn’t said anything about it, only launching into one of her crazy stories as a way to pull Julie from the pit in her mind and distract her until there was a ghost of a smile on her face. Despite Flynn’s distraction techniques, classes felt overwhelming and she spent the whole day on the verge of a meltdown until she finally made it home and collapsed face first onto her bed. She was exhausted from trying to keep herself from bursting into tears and all she wanted was to curl up and disappear for a few hours. Her dad was out at a shoot and her brother had baseball practice all afternoon, which meant she would have the house to herself for a while. An added bonus was that Luke had (reluctantly) designated Wednesdays as their day off from rehearsals, so the boys would probably be up to their own shenanigans and Julie could mope in peace.

She decided a nice hot shower would make her feel better, first and foremost. Maybe a bath, but she didn’t feel like getting her bath bombs out and lugging all her stuff to the ensuite in her dad’s room. So she pulled her hair up and into a cap, grabbed her comfiest sweats and a flannel she was pretty sure she’d stolen from Reggie at some point, and jumped under the stinging hot water.

Her muscles immediately loosened and she sighed. She could almost feel the stress of the day wash off of her as she scrubbed at her skin with her favorite body wash. Her mom had always told her there was nothing a hot shower and Disney movies couldn’t fix. 

She spent some extra time moisturizing and using one of her “girls day” face masks her and Flynn had splurged on. She knew Flynn would forgive her for it, knowing what kind of day she’d had. After she had cleaned the bathroom up and put all her stuff away, she padded into her room to grab her laptop and her case of nail polish. Her nails were looking a little sad and could use some TLC. Plus, doing her nails always relaxed Julie in a therapeutic way.

She paused in her doorway when she caught sight of Reggie lounging on her small couch, looking chipper.

“Hey Julie! Sorry, I knew you were in the bathroom so I waited here for you.” he said. Julie’s mouth turned up slightly.

“Hey Reggie. No worries” she said quietly, climbing into her bed and sliding under the covers.

“Whatcha doin? We didn’t see you come to the studio so I thought you might have been at Flynn’s.” He trailed off, sensing that Julie wasn’t quite herself. His face fell minutely into a worried frown.

“Are you okay? You seem...tired.” he asked, shifting on the couch. Julie sighed.

“I guess I’m just having an off day. I’ve been missing my mom and today just felt like a lot.”

Reggie’s face morphed into understanding and he nodded. 

“I’m sorry, Julie.” he said softly; sincerely. Julie felt a rush of adoration for her ghost bassist and his extra large heart. Usually when she told people about missing her mom and they apologized, it felt hollow. Like they didn’t know exactly what to say or how they could make it better. Reggie knew what it meant to lose people you loved. His was more of an “I’m sorry you’re not having a good day” instead of an “I’m sorry your mom died.” 

Julie, not wanting to wallow and bring her sunny bandmate down with her, patted her laptop gently.

“I was actually about to start a movie and paint my nails, if you wanted to watch with me.” she said. Reggie’s eyes lit up and he hurried to pull his shoes off and climb onto her bed beside her. As Julie queued up Tangled on Disney+, Reggie shifted so that his left side was pressed against Julie’s right. She couldn’t help but still feel a shot of surprise and contentment when she could feel his warmth radiating off of him. Now that she could actually feel them, ghost cuddles and casual touches were not only encouraged, but required. So she snuggled in closer.

“So what’s this movie about?” Reggie asked as Flynn Rider’s opening monologue began. Julie began telling him the premise of the movie as she rifled through her nail polish case. By the time she’d decided on a color and had begun putting on the clear coat, Reggie was enthralled. He had tugged one of her throw pillows to his chest and hugged it tightly as Gothel kidnapped the baby princess.

Julie let the sound of the movie fade into background noise as she carefully spread the thin clear coat on, paying attention to around her cuticles. She gently blew on them to help them dry before taking the brush from the purple color she’d chosen to begin carefully applying the color to her nails.

Julie could remember her mother spending many Saturdays in their bathroom, painting her nails a deep red color. She had always watched in fascination until Rose had sat her on the counter and let her pick her own colors. Then she would take Julie’s hand and gently cover her little fingers in vibrant shades. When Julie got older, they would share the counter and Rose would help her clean around the tips of her fingers where the polish would smudge. After her mom had died, it had taken Julie a long time to feel right about painting her nails without her mom. It was a sacred ritual they had shared and it was only when Flynn had handed her the nail polish before the Orpheum gig that she had felt right about it.

Now, she let the small brush glide along her nails and fill the blank spots with a deep purple that made her think of her dress from the Orpheum. She smiled softly, remembering the poofiness of her skirts and the exhilaration of performing at one of the biggest venues in LA.

“Hey Julie…?” 

She looked up from her left pinkie finger to see Reggie watching her in fascination.

“What’s up Reg?” she asked, waving her hand around to dry the polish.

“I like that color. It’s a really good Julie purple.” he said.

“Julie purple?” she asked, grinning.

“Yeah, like your dress from the Orpheum and how you always seem to have some sort of purple with you. It’s very...wait what does Flynn call it? ‘On brand’? Yeah! It’s very ‘On Brand Julie.’”

Julie giggled.

“Thanks Reggie. Purple is one of my favorite colors so I tend to gravitate towards it.” Reggie nodded and turned back to the movie. Julie started on the second coat, painting until the color was to her satisfaction.

“Julie?” Reggie was much quieter this time.

“Hmmm?” she hummed, keeping her eyes fixed on her ring finger. It was the trickiest finger for her for some reason and she wanted to get it right.

“Do you...I mean...could you…” Reggie suddenly flushed and Julie quirked an eyebrow, glancing up.

“What do you mean, Reggie?” she asked. Reggie swallowed harshly and blinked.

“Doyouthinkyoucouldpaintminenext?” he blurted out. His eyes widened, as if he couldn’t believe he’d actually asked. 

Julie thought nothing of it, only grinned and nodded at him.

“Sure Reg. Let me finish my second coat. Pick out a color that you want.” She finished the second coat of her right hand, carefully filing in the spots she’d missed and trying to avoid her cuticles. Once she had finished, she glanced up and saw Reggie smiling at her brightly.

“What, do I have something on my face again?” she teased, blowing on her nails.

“No I just...you’re amazing Julie.” he said quietly. Julie smiled at him as she reached for the black polish he was holding in his hands. She held out her hand for his and placed it on her thigh as she began spreading the black color on his nails. Reggie watched in fascination as the pale pink of his nail beds were slowly covered by Julie’s expert hand.

“You know, it’s pretty common for men to paint their nails nowadays…” Julie trailed off nonchalantly.

“Really?” Reggie asked happily.

“Yeah. You know that artist I was playing the other day? Harry Styles? He always has his nails done. And a lot of guys at school paint theirs. Nick does before the lacrosse season starts. He doesn’t like to wear it during the season because he hates when it chips too much.”

“I’ve always thought it looked really cool. Bobby and I always talked about doing it before gigs to see how it would look but we never did.” Reggie said. Julie smiled sadly.

“Actually, Trevor always paints his nails before his shows. Says it always brought him luck…” Julie saw a shadow pass over the bassist’s face for a moment before he was back to his happy go lucky self. Julie finished his right hand and began on the left.

“Blow nice and gently on them to help them dry enough for a second coat,” she instructed. Reggie followed her directions, eyes wandering to the movie still playing on her laptop. They sat quietly for a moment as Julie finished his left hand until the tell tale sound of ghosts poofing into the room made them look up. 

“There you are!” Luke groaned dramatically, flopping onto the bed beside Julie. The momentum sent the nail polish bottles flying and Julie grunted, sending the guitarist an exasperated look. Alex only sighed.

“Luke…” she warned.

“I’m sorry. Julie, can I please sit on your bed while you and Reggie hang out without us?” he pouted. Julie rolled her eyes and Alex groaned.

“Yes, you man child, sit down and don’t make me spill on my bedspread.” she chastised. Luke smiled contently and spread out on the mattress, curling his head in towards Julie’s leg. Julie tried to ignore the flush of her cheeks by focusing intently on Reggie’s hand.

“Anyways…” Alex cut in, sitting on Julie’s bean bag. “What are you guys doing?”

“Julie’s painting my nails!” Reggie blurted, waving his newly painted nails at his friends. Julie grinned as Alex grabbed Reggie’s hand to look.

“That looks really awesome, Jules.” Alex said quietly.

“Yeah! That looks lit!” Luke crowed. Julie and Alex shot him another look and he shrugged.

“Just trying to get the 2020 lingo down.” 

“Thanks guys,” Julie said, pulling out her top coat. As she grabbed Reggie’s hand to finish his nails off, she glanced over to see Alex eyeing the case of polishes with an unfathomable expression on his face. Luke had summoned his guitar and was idly strumming it, but every once in a while he would pause and glance at his own bare nails. Once Julie was done with Reggie, she grabbed the case and shoved it towards Alex.

“Pick some colors, Alex. I'll do yours while Reggie’s top coat dries. Then I’ll need your help to pin Luke down to keep him still enough”

The drummer’s face broke into a wide grin and he sifted through the various colors, ignoring Luke’s indignant squawk from beside her.

Which is how Julie ended up giving Alex a rainbow set and Luke ended up choosing black as well, with the added purple on his pinkie fingers to match Julie. He cited wanting to have cohesion as a band, but based on the looks Alex and Reggie were throwing at him, she knew he just wanted to match her. As Julie finished Luke’s top coat, Reggie and Alex were chatting quietly about how they could incorporate new nail colors into their performance outfits and what Flynn (their unofficial stylist) would think. They praised Julie’s work and Julie quirked a smile as she was once again reminded how lucky she was to have her boys.

Maybe her day hadn’t turned out as bad as she’d thought it would.

******

Thanks for reading everyone! Let me know what you think and don't forget to check out my other stories if you liked what you read.

[ernmark]

Any chance we could see Juno and Peter pulling that heist together in the new au? (It's quickly become one of my favorites.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You know, for someone that watched as much Burn Notice and White Collar as I did, I’m not good at the super flashy heist stuff– especially since it seems to me that the most effective heists are the ones where the mark doesn’t even know they’ve been robbed.

For the record, the concept of every town having a foundation festival comes from Germany.

I can’t help a sense of unease as we approach the DiMaggio mansion, but I swallow it down. A bit of discomfort isn’t worth calling off a job, after all, and this is hardly the first floating mansion I’ve broken into since New Kinshasa. Besides, it seems we’ll be out of here in short order.

Juno knocks at the door with an expression of intense focus. It’s a good look on him, all professional and intent.

When the valet opens the door, he’s already got his badge out. “Detective Steel,” he says, and jerks his head at me. “My partner, Detective Markovik.”

I flash my own badge, stolen from the apartment of the real Detective Lazar Markovik less than an hour ago. According to Juno, Tuesday afternoons are when he’s busy at the Triad card tables; it should be a few hours before he realizes his badge is gone, which means that it won’t register as missing when the valet runs my credentials. Juno’s credentials aren’t quite so clean, but before he can hand over his badge, a voice echoes through the voluminous front hall.

“That won’t be necessary, Jeremy.” A remarkably beautiful man stands at the top of a flight of stairs, draped over the banister like a renaissance painting. He’s almost waifish in his build, but soft-skinned and bright-eyed, and he carries himself with an ostentatious glamour that very few can pull off. I respect that. “Or did you think I wouldn’t remember you, Detective Steel?” 

As a matter of fact, we’re counting on it. 

‘Good cop/bad cop’ is a law enforcement tradition that spans the galaxy, but in Hyperion City, it’s no game. When Julian DiMaggio was suspected of murder, Juno was one of the few good cops left in his precinct. 

“Julian,” Juno said, nodding at him. “Or I guess it’s Mr. DiMaggio now?”

“Oh, please, call me Julian. Really, it’s the least I could do after you saved me. And now you’re back to do it again. We really must stop meeting like this.”

Juno clears his throat. “Julian, maybe we could have this conversation somewhere more private.”

“Oh, of course, of course.” He sweeps down the steps like it’s his own personal gala instead of a faux police investigation. “This way, detectives. Jeremy, if you’d be a dear?”

He leads us into a study large enough to be a ballroom, and the valet shuts the door behind us. 

“Please, sit,” he says. I’ve seen the posters and commercials; I assumed that the drama behind the Prince of Mars was an elaborate bit of showmanship, but it seems there aren’t many hidden layers. He really is that loud. “Can I get you two a drink? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?”

“Sorry, Julian, but we’re on duty.” 

“Of course, of course.” He leans forward. “Oh, I must know. What is this really about, Detective?” 

Maybe it has something to do with the lingering discomfort from being this high in the air, but I’m irritated by the look he gives Juno. My partner in crime, for his part, makes no sign that he notices the attention.

“This morning we got some leads about a planned robbery of one of Saffron’s facilities. Something in the R&D department.” 

“Really?” he giggles. “Oh, but that’s adorable. I can assure you, our security is state of the art.” 

“Are you certain?” I ask.

“Utterly. I hope you understand, Detective. It isn’t that I don’t trust you, but the rest of the department has a rather… unsavory reputation.”

“I know,” Juno says. “That’s why we’re working off the books. We already ran into some trouble when we started this investigation. Looks like this is part of a bigger picture, Julian, and there are a few uniforms who don’t want it solved.” He lowers his voice. “That’s why we need you.”

“Me?” DiMaggio gasps. 

“If we find out what they’re after, it may help us uncover their greater plan,” I say, my voice hushed nearly to a whisper. 

DiMaggio is an excitable man, and it isn’t difficult for him to get swept up in the drama of it all. We tell him what little information Miasma gave me about the Pill I’m meant to steal, add it to stories of the Mask, the Key she procured before she hired me, and a few other odds and ends that Miasma’s been collecting. Before long, DiMaggio is chiming in with guesses and suggestions of his own, and Juno and I lead him into planning an ambush against the thieves. By the time we return to our car, we have all the information we need, in addition to recordings of our little meeting for the voice authentication in the building.

“He seems quite taken with you,” I muse as I begin the drive back to our apartment.

“Nah, he’s just loud like that.”

“Oh? He barely said a word when I was speaking to him.” I adjust the altitude controls to take us back to ground level. It seems you’re the one he wanted to impress. You did save him, after all.”

I flit a glance in Juno’s direction long enough to catch his raised eyebrow. “He’s a married man.”

“That fact stops fewer people than you would think.”

“Then maybe it helps that I’m not interested.”

“No?”

“He’s not exactly my type.”

We’re in a stretch of clear air, so I take the chance to lean closer to him. “And what type would that be?”

He swallows and his mouth opens involuntarily. I could put this car on autopilot for a few moments…

“What’s it to you?” Juno asks.

I flash a smile. “Nothing at all, Detective. Simply curious.”

I leave Juno at the hotel while I slip into the basement of Saffron’s headquarters. Not for secrecy’s sake– at this point, I’ve broken into the building so many times that I know where all the cameras are by heart– but because I don’t want to explain to Juno why I know it so well. I take pride in my competence; I don’t want him to know that I’d done this so very often and never bothered to check the basement.

It isn’t my fault, after all– how was I to know that an entire department had been left off the building’s blueprints?

With DiMaggio’s instructions, reaching the proper room is simple enough. Finding the Pill itself, though, is slightly more difficult. The entire wall is covered in lockboxes, and I have to pick almost half of them before I find what I’m looking for. It takes hours, and an aggravating amount of that time is spent hiding when the guards make their rounds.

By the time I find the Pill and its associated documentation, the sky is gray-pink with the first light of dawn.

I send a message to Miasma and make my way back to the hotel.

Fortunately, Juno is a late sleeper; with any luck, I’ll be able to slip into the room without waking him.

That plan dies, though, when I open the door.

Juno’s sitting on his bed, still in yesterday’s clothes. When he turns to look at me, his eyes are bloodshot and lined with dark bags.

I close the door quietly behind me. “I hope you weren’t waiting up for me.”

He shrugs. “Just a bit of insomnia.”

I might be more inclined to believe that if he’d gotten under the covers. Or bothered taking his shoes off.

He notices the glance, and slides them off, dropping them unceremoniously at the foot of his bed. “If you ran into trouble, you should have called me.”

“Don’t tell me I had you worried over me.” I won’t pretend I’m not charmed by the notion.

“Of course not,” he grumbles. “You’re my ticket out of here, remember?”

“How could I forget?” I slip off my coat and hang it up on one of the thick metal hangers that can handle its weight.  “Have you done much thinking about where you’ll go after we leave Mars?”

“There are a few planets I’ve got my eye on.”

“Any place I’ve been?” I sit on the edge of his bed. “I might be able to show you around. Perhaps get you started on... whatever it is you’re planning to do there.”

“Something in the Tau Ceti system, maybe,” Juno says.

“Orcinus is lovely,” I yawn. It seems the night took more out of me than I thought. “Every city has a holiday commemorating its foundation. There are people who spend their whole lives traveling from fair to fair.”

“Sounds like a lot of opportunities for crime,” Juno says.

“What do you think attracted me to it in the first place?” I grin. “But I imagine it would have plenty of room for a seasoned detective. Unless you’re planning to change careers?” The last word is half-swallowed in another yawn.

Juno rolls his eyes at me. “Oh, for the love of-- lay down if you’re tired.”

“If you insist.” I know he means on the other bed, I sink into the mattress, just to annoy him. That might have been a mistake, though. I really am exhausted, and the bed is so very soft.

“You asshole,” he mutters, but he pulls back the covers. “At least take off your shoes first.”

“Anything for the lady.” I sit up to untie the laces-- these shoes are far too nice to scuff up so casually-- and stretch out on the proffered side of the bed.

Juno throws the blanket over me, then crawls under the covers beside me. “And no biting this time,” he mutters.

I hum. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

[gethealthy18-blog]

Cocoa-Mint DIY Lip Scrub Recipe (And Self Care Tips for Your Busy Lifestyle)

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/news/cocoa-mint-diy-lip-scrub-recipe-and-self-care-tips-for-your-busy-lifestyle/

Cocoa-Mint DIY Lip Scrub Recipe (And Self Care Tips for Your Busy Lifestyle)

My simple cocoa-mint DIY lip scrub recipe not only nourishes your lips in a deliciously minty way, it is also a wonderful way that we can harness our creativity for self care and nurture our emotional health and well-being in just five minutes.

In these modern times, we often take on multiple roles throughout our lives. Often these roles overlap at the same time, leaving us overwhelmed and overextended. By taking just a few minutes out of each day to practice self care, even with a simple homemade lip scrub, we are better equipped to handle stressors in our lives.

What is self care?

We hear a lot about self care. That is, taking the time out to do something for yourself that benefits your physical or emotional health in some way. However, it’s easy to forget that we need to practice self care on a regular basis. When we have too much on our plate, and not enough time to get everything done, taking care of ourselves falls to the wayside.

Self care shouldn’t feel like a chore. Instead, it should be a simple exercise to help ground you. By making the time to practice self care exercises on a regular basis, the hope is that they’ll, in turn, become healthy habits. So not only are you carving out a little extra time for yourself each day, you’re also taking actions that lead to better emotional health. After all, self care isn’t self indulgence. It’s an act of survival.

What are some easy ways to practice self care?

Here is a list of my favorite ways to take time out for myself. Working these self care ideas into your busy lifestyle can really make all the difference in your life. Therefore, I recommend starting with just one or two, then working more in as you can.

1. Drink an extra glass of water everyday.

Easy, right? Most of us don’t drink enough water. And if you’re chugging coffee in the mornings to get going, you actually need to drink double the amount of water to counteract the caffeine. The simple act of drinking more water not only helps with digestion, it also combats fatigue and can help prevent acne.

2. Get up and move!

When work gets overwhelming, take a mini break. Get out of that ever so uncomfortable office chair and take a spin! (Or spin in your office chair even!).

I’ve found that something as simple as standing up and doing a Cinderella like spin, your arm circling down so you can magically don a ball gown, will lift your mood and give you a little chuckle. Likewise, if you can get away with dancing to a single song, go for it! Sneaking in just a little exercise can help to reduce stress. It also leads to better sleep. Here’s a another awesome fun way to get some steps in every day.

3. Don’t skimp on sleep.

Our bodies need sleep to stay healthy and keep us on top of our game. I promise the world won’t go spiraling into the sun if you don’t finish every single thing on your to do list by the end of the day.

So if you’re exhausted, take a nap. Also be sure you’re getting an adequate amount of sleep every night. A good night’s rest helps to improve memory, spur creativity, sharpen attention and lower stress levels so you can, in turn, be more productive.  If you have trouble getting a good night’s rest, you’ll find some great tips for getting a restful night’s sleep here.

4. Crank the music on your car ride to and from work – and sing along!

Belting out to your favorite playlist when you’re alone in the car is fabulous for relieving built up stress and tension. I mean, there’s just something about being able to scream (sing) at the top of your lungs to help you get over a bad day.

5. Reward yourself at least once week for all of your hard work with a little treat.

Instead of saving the things you love for special occasions, make the occasion special to brighten your mood. Spoil yourself  with your favorite Korean face mask. Or buy yourself that pretty party worthy cake pop. Pick up a bouquet of your favorite flowers. Do something you wish your ex would have done for you, but never did.

6. Clean and organize your living space.

If you’re a type A personality like I am, cleaning off your desk or organizing your pantry will help to clear your head, reduce stress and ground you. I find that this helps me when I’m having trouble starting on a new project or task for work.

7. Unwind with a relaxing bubble bath at the end of a hard day.

Or buy a fun new nail polish color and give yourself a mani-pedi! This extra bit of attention is a great way to meditate without realizing you’re meditating. Especially if you’re one of those people that has trouble sitting still for more than five minutes (I’m raising my hand on this one too!). These homemade lavender and chamomile bath bombs are the perfect way to relax in the bath.

8. Learn to say no.

Your time is already stretched. Adding on another task as a favor to someone else will only make things harder and more stressful. It’s impossible to take care of your own needs, if you’re drowning in obligations to other people.

Your friends and family will understand and you’ll feel empowered by taking back a little piece of time for yourself that you would ordinarily give away.

9. Eat healthier.

Start replacing processed foods with raw foods rich in nutrients. Processed foods contain preservatives that can be unhealthy when they start to consume your eating habits. Not only do they offer fewer nutrients your body needs, they can also contribute to stress and anxiety.

Learn more about how to prevent binge eating.

10. Take a break from social media.

Social media has become a large part of daily life. Unfortunately, the content is not always desirable. Politics and negative news stories can easily bring you down, and the comments can be even worse than the posts themselves. In addition, reading about how happy your friends and family are can often lead to feeling that our own lives are inadequate.

Rather than scrolling through facebook or instagram, take that ten minutes to walk around the block instead. Studies have shown that a simple walk outdoors can boost serotonin levels in the brain more than antidepressant medications.

11. Use your chores as a way to interact with people outside of your day to day life.

Instead of a chaotic trip to the grocery store after work, visit the farmer’s market on your day off instead. Not only will the walk reduce stress, but it will give you the chance to interact on a personal level with the people you’re buying from. It’s also an easy way to shop healthier and support people in your community.

12. Try aromatherapy.

Certain essential oils, such as lavender, can help to promote calm and relaxation. While other essential oils, such as lemongrass, can help relieve stress. I personally LOVE peppermint essential oil in my diy lip scrub recipe and many other diy beauty products.

Elizabeth’s Note: Ready to learn more about essential oils? Start my FREE SUPER SIMPLE 9-STEP EMAIL COURSE to start learning – without all the stress! I focus on the absolute essentials (pun totally intended, haha) and keep everything simple. That way you can learn what you need without information overload! Start my free course now.

13. Create something with your hands.

There’s a certain satisfaction and feeling of accomplishment when you make something with your hands. Creativity not only makes us happy, it can also help us overcome trauma and manage negative emotions.

DIY Lip Scrub: A simple 5-minute self care project

If you’d like to create something, but aren’t sure where to start, why not give my natural DIY lip scrub recipe a try? Making something simple, such a lip scrub, is an easy self care exercise. And it only takes five minutes of your time.

Not only will it give you a feeling of accomplishment, the end product also allows you to take that one extra minute a day to focus just on you. Or more specifically, your lips!

I love this cocoa-mint DIY lip scrub recipe for a number of reasons. Not only is it easy to make, it’s also a great project that you create with your friends or family without having to make a huge time commitment. Of course, there’s also the added benefit of having smooth, healthy looking lips! Especially if you are prone to chapped lips in the winter, or if you live in a particularly dry climate.

By the way, this Cocoa-Mint DIY lip scrub would pair perfectly with chocolate mint body butter recipe, peppermint foaming sugar scrub recipe, chocolate mint foaming salt scrub, and chocolate mint lip balm recipe as a gift or as a complete self care package! You could also add these Foot Scrub Cubes with Menthol Crystals.

Cocoa-Mint DIY Lip Scrub Recipe

INGREDIENTS:

.75 oz. unrefined cocoa butter .75 oz. virgin coconut oil or fractionated coconut oil .25 oz. emulsifying wax 4.5 oz. granulated sugar 1 mL (or about 20 drops) peppermint essential oil

DIRECTIONS:

You will need a digital kitchen scale to craft my cocoa-mint DIY lip scrub recipe.

STEP #1:

Using a digital scale, weigh out the cocoa butter, coconut oil and emulsifying wax. (If you live in a hot climate, use virgin coconut oil. Otherwise, for cooler climates, use fractionated coconut oil.)

STEP #2:

Combine these ingredients in a double boiler and heat the ingredients on the stovetop over medium-low heat until melted.

STEP #3:

Remove the melted butter, oil and wax from heat. Then add the peppermint essential oil to the mixture and stir to combine.

STEP #4:

Using a separate container weigh out the sugar. Then pour the sugar into the liquid ingredients. Then use a fork to mix the lip scrub until all of the ingredients are evenly distributed.

STEP #5: 

Spoon your cocoa-mint natural lip scrub into a container or containers of your choice. Allow to cool, then screw on the lid(s) to your container(s).

To use your natural DIY lip scrub, simply massage a small amount of the scrub onto damp lips in the shower as part of your daily self care routine.

How do you practice self care each day? Do you make DIY lip scrub to nourish your lips? I’d love for you to share your experiences in the comments!

More DIY Beauty Recipes You Will Love:

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Source: https://livingthenourishedlife.com/cocoa-mint-diy-lip-scrub-recipe-and-self-care-tips/