#liquor shops to open in green zone

[dankusner]

Renovations begin on South Dallas’ historic Forest Theater

After sitting vacant for 15 years, Dallas’ historic Forest Theater is undergoing a major renovation.

The venue that once featured notable acts like Tina Turner, B.B. King and Dallas’ own Erykah Badu will be transformed into a community and education hub, complete with mixed-income housing nearby.

“The Forest Theater once served as a cultural landmark for our entire city,” Dallas Mayor Eric Johnson said at the ceremony. “And this renovation is going to usher in a new era for this theater and for this community.”

This is the first time in its history the theater, which opened in 1949 and for years served an exclusively white audience, is owned by a Black-led organization.

“South Dallas is in a transition of change,” Forest Forward president Elizabeth Wattley said. “The MLK Boulevard is changing.”

She said the rehabilitation and expansion of the theater will “certainly draw additional business and development to the neighborhood.”

As part of the theater’s partnership with Dallas ISD, students of MLK Arts Academy will have access to the 13,000-square-foot arts education hub that will be in front of the theater, where retail spaces were formerly located.

“We really want to bring those technologies to our students’ hands,” Wattley said, “to share their talents in a number of varieties of ways.”

The expansion involved several zoning requirements.

The highway the theater sits on will be transformed into a boulevard with traffic lights and a 35-mph speed limit to increase walkability.

“Our students who would walk to school would have to go all the way up here and then cross over on the boulevard,” Wattley said. “Now they’ll just be up across the street.”

The housing portion is centered around community development, said Forest Forward board member Matthew Ruffner.

The mixed-income housing will help densify the neighborhood, so it increases school and community event attendance without pushing out longtime residents, he said.

Wattley says the theater’s expansion will preserve the character and history of the South Dallas community, whose input on the project was taken into consideration.

The theater is not a new concept: Spaces like the South Dallas Cultural Center offer free access to a wide variety of visual and performing arts programming.

Forest Forward made a commitment to provide complementary access that is not competitive.

“It indicates and implies that there’s an oversaturation of arts in south Dallas, and there’s really no such thing as that,” Wattley said.

Speaking at Thursday’s groundbreaking ceremony, U.S. Rep. Jasmine Crockett  said she’s happy to see someone still committed to the city of Dallas, specifically South Dallas.

“A lot of people for a long time have given up on South Dallas,” she said. “But let me tell you, Elizabeth would not accept no from anybody.”

The renovation is expected to take about 18 months, with the theater set to reopen December 2025.

"Will this time be different for South Dallas and the Forest Theater?"

Those words, printed in large type above the fold of the Dallas Morning News on November 10, 2021, “haunted” Elizabeth Wattley for “a long time.”

Wattley is the president of Forest Forward, the nonprofit tasked with bringing the Forest Theater back to life.

Which, in a way, means it is also tasked with the future of South Dallas.

Considering the scope and ambition of that statement, you can understand why those words haunted Wattley.

The 75-year-old theater, adorned with a green tower that once glowed like a beacon on Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd., has for the last 15 years sat empty among a derelict block of liquor stores and shuttered shops.

On Thursday afternoon, hundreds of people sat in a parking lot behind the building under a clear sky, the nickname Sunny South Dallas becoming a little too literal.

Southern Dallas’ elected leadership celebrated Forest Forward’s milestone of fundraising, bringing in $75.215 million—branded for the ZIP code in which it sits—and the beginning of renovations here.

“Along this stretch of MLK, it used to be dormant,” said state Sen. Royce West. “Everything was closed.”

The evidence is in the photo above these words.

What’s different this time around is Wattley’s strategy.

Forest Forward started buying land around the venue.

It has plans to turn some of it into mixed-income housing. It has partnered with Dallas ISD to transform the Martin Luther King Jr. Learning Center to the MLK Arts Academy, which will graduate its first 8th grade class next month.

Four students from that class were accepted into Booker T. High School for the Performing and Visual Arts, and another was on the waitlist.

That’s a big deal. Booker T. presently has 1,100 students across its four grades, and only 10 live in 75215.

Local heavyweight architecture firm HKS is designing the overhaul, which will include a 1,000-seat concert hall and a 200-seat theater.

There will be a rooftop patio, a café, and a coffee shop that won’t be a certain national chain.

All of this is happening in tandem with the removal of U.S. 175, the highway that, like so many other urban freeways, created a gash through South Dallas that has taken decades to overcome.

The land where that road was will soon be a boulevard, connecting the theater with the rest of the community.

The story of South Dallas extends from the Forest north to Fair Park.

The theater is trying to meet the needs of all the people who live in the blocks between them, focusing on access to education, arts, economic development, and housing.

[caaav]

When is marijuana legal in Canada

Gone are the days we needed to trip to a café in Amsterdam to get our (legitimate) pot fix. Simply shift focus over to our northern neighbour, Canada. In 2018, the Public authority of Canada issued the Weed Act, which sanctioned and directed the creation, deal, appropriation, and ownership of sporting marijuana (for grown-ups of legitimate age).

As additional states across the US are authorising weed, Canada may not appear to be so earth shattering — however it's the principal major industrialised country to be so green-disapproved (regardless of your thought process, pot isn't completely lawful in the Netherlands). Edibles are now assessed to be a $1.6 billion (Canadian dollars, that is) market in Canada a year, and with the following phase of legitimization, it's supposed for that number to go up another billion. (There's currently in excess of 3,000 pot stores, if that lets you know anything.)

Be that as it may, as most things with weed, the guidelines aren't really basic: In that frame of mind, of the 13 regions and domains has its own set. In this way, to lawfully embrace Canada's weed culture, you'll require somewhat of a backgrounder first. Here's the beginning and end you want to be aware of to explore — and participate in — Canada's broad weed culture.

What's the legitimate smoking age?

In many regions across Canada, the lawful age to buy and consume cannabis is 19. Nonetheless, in Alberta the lawful age is 18, and the recently chosen government in Quebec raised the base age to 21.

So could you at any point smoke anyplace you need in Canada?

We wish! Might you at some point envision Canada would one say one was an enormous hot box? Until this point, practically every region in Canada has prohibited smoking the two cigarettes and pot in indoor public spaces, public-travel offices, and at work environments where smoking could occur.

In Ontario, English Columbia, and Alberta, the law expresses that individuals can smoke weed where they can smoke cigarettes. As of late, Halifax has 84 assigned toking zones on city property all through the Halifax district (here are the specific areas).

Where might I at any point purchase weed in Canada, and how much is it?

Every area has its own particular standards on where to buy weed. In practically every territory (with the exception of Nunavut), weed is commonly sold in an administration run retail shop or a secretly run dispensary — or a cross breed of the two. Here is overwhelmingly significant to recall: The main legitimate method for buying pot is through these stores, and they ordinarily have a seal shown in the window to demonstrate they are endorsed by the Canadian government. Leafly and BudHub Canada do a very great job separating the items, valuing, and client support insight at various shops.

The buying experience can fluctuate area-by-territory. This is what's in store.

Nova Scotia: The Nova Scotia Alcohol Company is the main retailer of lawful weed. There's a web-based retail website, yet you really can't get to it until you get an extraordinary access code coming up and check your age. The cards are allowed to get, yet make it hard to figure out what sort of items are in-store before you show up. By and large, you're hoping to pay $10.99 per gram for what they've recorded as a "centre" or "premium" pot.

Ontario: As of April 1, 2019, Ontario's directed retail market at long last really got started, with all lawful pot opening up for buy by means of the Ontario Pot Store. However, presently there are a lot of different decisions and choices. The Liquor and Gaming Commission of Ontario (AGCO) lifted its confidential retail-permitting lottery and opened the conduits to the individuals who needed to open a marijuana retail space. At present, there are 33 weed stores approved to work in Ontario (here's a full guide). Retail locations will sell bloom, pre-rolls, marijuana oils, vapes, edibles, and cases. (Costs range from $7.95-$13.25 per gram.)

Quebec: All that in Quebec is sold in freely shown stores to the public authority run Société Québécoise du Marijuana (SQDC). As of now, there are 52 weed stores around the region, which sell all that from bloom, pre-rolls, pot oils, drinks, and cases. Costs range from $5.25 a gram (charges included).

Alberta: One of the most astounding business sectors since authorization has been Alberta, with in excess of 400 marijuana store licence — more than some other Canadian ward. The Alberta Gaming, Alcohol, and Weed organisation has been applauded for conceding retail licences rapidly and proficiently, guaranteeing the shoppers can buy items like buds, pre-rolls, edibles, marijuana oils, and containers all through the territory. Costs range from $9.24-$15.42 a gram, contingent upon the retailer.

English Columbia: Numerous weed activists in Canada began in English Columbia selling through empathy centres. Presently all legitimate marijuana can be tracked down in exclusive dispensaries and in BC Pot Stores (BCCS) worked by the commonplace government organisation, the BC Alcohol Conveyance Branch. The present moment, there are various areas recorded by means of the site, and guests can arrange through the online business website. In every one of the retail locations, there will be buds, pre-rolls, pot oils, and containers. You might track down embellishments in certain stores, such as moving papers, lighters, lines, or bongs. Costs range on their site from $6.99-$16.28 per gram.

Right now, costs are dropping, and the typical expense of weed across Canada is $9.74 per gram.

And conveyance and web based requesting?

On the off chance that the prospect of going into a retail setting overpowers you, don't let that be an obstruction. A few regions and domains offer web-based pot deals where you can have it conveyed to your inn or Airbnb for appearance inside only days. The other choice is same-day conveyance, which is accessible by means of Pineapple Expedited shipment.

Could I at any point smoke in lodgings or Airbnbs?

Despite the fact that authorization occurred in Canada, Airbnb actually has been recognizably quiet on what precisely their approach is, with no authority strategy recorded.

Airbnb truly is leaving the choice in their hosts' hands and the way that they feel about smoke — and having weed in their homes. Across Canada, numerous lodgings and rental landowners are prohibiting weed. Before authorization, numerous apartment suite sheets were written in rules to cinch down on pot use inside. In this way, the host's approaches truly rely upon where Airbnb is found and the way that they feel about weed in their space. You'll frequently find that hosts will use catchphrases and expressions like "420-accommodating," "weed well disposed," or "green-accommodating" in their presentation to demonstrate that smoking is thoroughly fine.

On the off chance that that appears to be a ton of work, look at Bud and Breakfast, an Airbnb-style site devoted to giving people marijuana well disposed spots to remain. There are in excess of 30 Canadian hosts in places like Ontario and Montreal. In the event that you're searching for something a touch all the more very good quality, look at Sir Sam's Hotel and Spa in Haliburton, Ontario. Named Canada's most memorable weed accommodating retreat, the property has lakeside perspectives and lots of regions to calmly smoke.

Shouldn't something be said about edibles and weed implanted feasts?

Weed 2.0 items — which included vape pens, refreshments, edibles, and topicals — first opened up to buyers in quite a while in December 2019. All in all, since you can buy edibles coming up, does this mean you can go to a bar or eatery and have an imbued feast? Not exactly. Like smoke relax and caring clubs, Wellbeing Canada has said that the Marijuana Act will keep up with command over all palatable items produced using pot blended in with food fixings, and that implies eatery feasts would be prohibited from lawful deal.

However, that doesn't truly mean that there aren't Do-It-Yourself or underground injected meals occurring around the nation (or CBD-imbued mixed drinks aren't being made some place). In Toronto, ByMinistry and soil are two of the go-to high-eating and high-idea weed occasions in the city. In Edmonton, gourmet specialist Daniel Huber used to have spring up suppers for visitors by means of his Edmonton Marijuana Supper Club, and Travis Petersen, a previous contender on MasterChef Canada, began The Traveler Cook, where he has meals for visitors across Canada on a spring up premise.

Would it be advisable for me to attempt to welcome some back on the plane with me?

Thus, assuming you're going inside Canada, moving between different provinces, the Canadian Air Transport Security Authority (CATSA) has affirmed that 30 grams (also known as the legitimate measures of sporting pot) will be permitted on checked or lightweight stuff on homegrown flights.

Assuming that you're voyaging somewhere else, indeed, that actually stays unlawful (despite the fact that on the off chance that you're truly pondering taking it across, you might need to investigate this first). One thing to recall: The US Line Administrations has gone on record reminding people that the US actually believes marijuana to be an unlawful substance. In the relatively recent past, U.S. Customs and Line Security bosses were told to remove or deny passes to Canadian voyagers who confessed to utilising marijuana, have bought the medication, or been engaged with authorised creation. Only something to contemplate.

What is lawful as of October 17, 2018

Dependent upon commonplace or regional limitations, grown-ups who are 18 years old or more seasoned are legitimately ready to:

have as much as 30 grams of legitimate marijuana, dried or identical in non-dried structure openly

share as much as 30 grams of legitimate marijuana with different grown-ups

purchase dried or new pot and marijuana oil from a commonly authorized retailer

in regions and domains without a managed retail system, people can buy weed online from governmentally authorized makers

develop, from authorized seed or seedlings, up to 4 weed plants for each home for individual use

make pot items, for example, food and beverages, at home as long as natural solvents are not used to make concentrated items

[mehanstarknews]

Alcohol liquor shops and paan shops to open in Green Zones, finally!

Alcohol liquor shops and paan shops to open in Green Zones, finally!

Liquor shops have been allowed to open in Green Zones across the country

Liquor will now be available in Green Zones across the country. As per the new notification by Union Home Ministry, alcohol and paan shops have been permitted in Green Zones.  It seems so many people’s prayers have been answered! After almost a month and a half, as the government has announced extension of the lockdown…

[newsaryavart]

ऑरेंज जोन में हैं तो जान लें ये बात, गाड़ियों और बसों की आवाजाही पर गाइडलाइंस जारी

ऑरेंज जोन में हैं तो जान लें ये बात, गाड़ियों और बसों की आवाजाही पर गाइडलाइंस जारी

[ad_1]

ऑरेंज जोन में आवाजाही पर सरकार ने स्पष्टीकारण जारी किया है. लॉकडाउन के तीसरे चरण के ऐलान के बाद केंद्र सरकार ने ऑरेंज जोन में गाड़ियों और बसों की अवाजाही को लेकर एक स्पष्टीकरण जारी किया है. शुक्रवार को गृह…

[failedintsave]

Ok fine, fine ok. It's Nategaar hours around here today, and I need it to stay out of my current project so here's me purging it from my system til it resurfaces with vengeance in probably like a day.

You Spin Me Round

The rattling of the window panes was audible even over the bass of Murderface's boom box, rain blowing almost horizontally in tropical storm gales. But seasoned Floridians weren't afraid of a little stormy weather, as proven by the groups of drenched partygoers who continued to filter through the door of their crowded apartment.

Nathan weaved his way through the sea of bodies, returning from the keg with four Solo cups balanced overhead, trying his best not to spill everything down his arms. He squeezed into the corner where most of his band stood gathered around a wooden cable spool he'd taken from his dad's hardware shop, the tabletop littered with a scattered deck of cards, an overflowing ashtray at it's center.

"Who the fuck are some of these people?" He grumbled as he approached, passing out beers to waiting hands.

"Shit, man, idunnoe. I invited some chicks from deh show, and I know Magnus told some folks to come back, but deh rest?" Pickles shrugged. "Stuffs closin' fer deh weather I think, people lookin' fer something ta do."

He grunted, handing a cup over to Murderface next to him before reaching across the table to pass the last beer to Skwisgaar wedged between two fawning groupies.

"Shoulda put someone at the door to take money for cups, they're draining the keg." He took a slug of foamy beer, glaring down into the contents. "And there's no room to play games or do anything."

"Juscht play drink-the-beer, who needsch a game for that?"

"Auuuggh that's boring. And besides, I'm really good at that game and we'll run out of beer faster."

"He ams gots a good points."

Pickles rubbed his chin in consideration before snapping his fingers, a proverbial lightbulb going off over his head. "I gaht it."

He scurried off, slipping easily through the throng of bodies towards his room. They watched him disappear, barely a glimpse of fiery red hair visible over the shoulders of their so-called guests. After a few minutes he reappeared with a Cheshire grin and a green bottle of whiskey. He held up his first two fingers, a single die pinched between them.

"Alright, I've gaht a game fer us. First step, we empty dis bottle." He cracked the top and handed it to Nathan. "As you were deh inspiration fer dese shenanigans, you may do de honors."

"Perfect." Nathan tipped the bottle back and took a long pull, passing it off to Murderface to share around the circle as Pickles continued.

"Next t'ings, we need a couple extra players, ot'erwise dis will get real predictable quick." He stood on tiptoes, waving over a few familiar faces from their show. He flagged Magnus down, but the guitarist didn't move.

"What do you want?" He shouted across the room.

"Come play a game!"

"What game?"

"Russian roulette, whaddya think? A party game!"

"What game?" Magnus repeated, moving slightly closer.

"Spin deh bottle!"

That stopped Magnus in his tracks. "Nope. Not this again. Fool me once, shame on you. Hard pass."

Murderface sputtered as he handed off the bottle down the line. "Hold on, what wasch that?!"

Ignoring him, Pickles threw his arms up at the goateed guitarist. "Why not?!" Magnus shook his head and turned back, melting into the crowd. "Ah yeh fuckin' killjoy, fine den!"

Nathan frowned, tracking the bottle's progress around the circle. "Uh, Pickles. Why exactly did you think we'd wanna play that? Together? Do we look like middle schoolers?"

"It's fun! Dere's stakes!" He slapped the die onto the table, smirking around at his audience. "Me an' Tony an' de guys made up dis version back in deh day."

Skwisgaar wiped his mouth on the back of a slender wrist, handing the liquor down to the woman next to him. "Sos you always play deh kissingk games wif your bands?" To Nathan's ear he didn't sound put off, merely curious.

Murderface, meanwhile, was less impressed. "That'sch totally gay! We can't play thisch together, what'sch wrong with you?!"

"Eh, it's just a goof we made up, touring ain't all blowjobs and snortin' coke off tits, sometimes ya just wanna have fun." Pickles reached out and poked Murderface in the belly. "Wouldja lemme finish explainin' deh rules before ya quit?"

The bottle made it's way back to the drummer and he tilted his head back for several long chugs, holding the glass up to the light and sloshing the liquid around. He nodded and handed it off to Nathan again with a wink. Frowning, Nathan took another long draw. He wasn't going to be the first of them to back down from this idea, even if it was stupid.

"Okey, so here's why dis game is different. Dere's two parts." He indicated the die and the bottle with a flourishing gesture. "First you roll de dice. On a one, two er three, it's normal rules. Little smackaroonie. No big deal. Four an' five, ya elevate it a little bit. Makeout, pull some hair, whatever."

"Oooookaaay I think maybe Murderface was right about this." Nathan looked around at his bandmates. True there were almost twice as many girls at the table than them, but he wasn't sure he cared for the odds.

"Schee?!"

"Oh waaaaah, you buncha babies! Yer the one who said you were bored! Let's see whet you can come up with!"

"I'll plays."

Nathan's head jerked to face Skwisgaar across the table. The blonde wore an amused smirk as he focused on Pickles, a faint flush on his cheeks from the alcohol. He cocked his head to the side, accepting the drummer's challenge, golden waves cascading over his shoulder as he moved. Of course that smug bastard would play, this game sounded like a routine Thursday for him.

With a heavy sigh, Nathan's eyes shifted back to the drummer. "Alright. So what's six?"

Pickles grinned impishly. "Oh we call six 'Make It Look Good.' Thirty seconds on deh clock or til ev'rybody else makes ya stahp."

"What the actual fuck, Pickles."

"Ah-ah! Lemme finish! You have options!" He ticked off on his fingers. "One through three you can skip fer a shot. Four an' five you chug a beer. And six…"

The group around the table leaned as one, craning their necks expectantly in the drummer's direction. His eyes flashed as he snickered.

"If you want outta six, yeh gotta run a naked lap around the apartment building."

Thunder boomed outside as if to punctuate the final rule.

"Schon of a bitsch. We need more schotsch if we're doing thisch. I'm gonna get fucked up."

Pickles produced a second bottle and slammed it down on the table in front of him.

"Where were you keeping that?"

"Don't ask questions, are we playin' or what?"

The initial bottle finished it's second loop, landing in Nathan's palm again. With a grunt, he slugged the last of the booze and slammed the bottle onto it's side in the center of the table.

"God I wish there was room to play pong right now…" he picked up the dice and rolled.

The game didn't go nearly as badly as he'd expected, and after several rounds of making out with hot girls and taking shots to avoid kissing his bandmates Nathan was really starting to enjoy himself. Defying statistics, the only six rolled so far had been between two of the girls, and they'd all cheered like hooligans.

And then the fickle dice gods reconsidered their influence.

"Alrights, my toirns." Skwisgaar, who hadn't yet opted out of any of his rolls but was starting to get fairly tipsy regardless, snatched up the dice and shook it in Nathan's face, squinting one eye and grinning. He dropped it, four pips staring back up at him. Laughing, he gave the bottle a rapid spin.

It whirled and Nathan found himself holding his breath, eyes glued to the bottle, a little confused about what he was hoping would happen. Slowly, slowly the neck of the bottle came to rest pointing at Pickles.

"Uh-ohhhh, ya think the keg is tapped? Ya might be outta luck pal." The drummer laughed, pumping pierced brows at the blonde.

"Pfffft, shuts up." Skwisgaar leaned past one of the giggling girls, seizing a handful of Pickles' shirt and hauling him forward into an open-mouthed kiss. Nathan stared as they pulled apart, his skin heating and head swimming with whiskey.

"Well okey den," Pickles stroked his chin, nodding sagely. "Now I see whet all deh fuss is about, nyeheheh."

Swaying upright again, Skwisgaar clumsily flung his hair back over his shoulder. "Whats can I says, I ams a master ats everyt'ings I dedicates my times to."

"Scho like, two thingsch."

"Ams better den no t'ings."

"Hey!"

Nathan zoned out, staring at the table for the next few turns, snapped back to attention by Murderface's repeated 'No, no, no no!' as Pickles rolled a three and landed on him.

"A'right, yer turn Nate." The drummer smirked, sliding the bottle and the die across the table.

"Ugh, are we still playing this? When is it over?"

"Aw aments Nat'ans havingk any funs?"

He raised his eyes to the willowy guitarist across from him. Skwisgaar's thin arms were crossed over his chest, hip popped jauntily to the side. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his high forehead from the dense mugginess of the apartment, a teasing smile playing over his lips, bruised pink from being crushed against Pickles'. With an effort, Nathan tore his gaze away and redirected it towards the table.

"Fine. Whatever." He started the bottle spinning with more force than necessary, rolling the dice as it rotated.

Six.

Shit.

The rest of the table was already hooting in glee as the bottle spun down, slowing, taking an agonizingly long time to stop. Finally it came to rest at twelve o'clock.

Pointing at Skwisgaar.

The table erupted.

"OH SCHIT! Can't drink your way outta thisch one!"

"Nyeeeeheheheheh! Now's tha real show!"

"Oh dear sweet lord." Nathan covered his face with his hands, cheeks burning already.

"Hey you have an advantage, everything he does looks good." 

"Why t'anks you, what was you names again? Monicas?"

"Yeh could always take the second option agin?" Pickles offered, biting back a laugh as he patted Nathan's shoulder.

His heartbeat throbbed in his ears, and something like pre-show jitters fluttered in his stomach, arms and legs tingling. 

"Huehuehuehhue, ams lookingk pretty nastys out dere." Skwisgaar's drunken chuckle was underlined by another peal of thunder, window panes jumping in their casings. "Yous gonna gets blowed away."

Fuck that.

He dropped his hands away from his face, narrowing his eyes at the smirking blonde. "Fine. You dildoes want a show?"

His audience yelped as he reached down, grabbing the edge of the wooden spool and throwing it aside, playing cards and ashtray scattering to the floor, bottle toppling to the ground and shattering. Nathan lunged forward, relishing the shocked widening of blue eyes before impact.

Fighting against muscle memory of past football tackles, he grappled Skwisgaar against his broad chest, wrapping his arms beneath the other man's flailing limbs, his palms cradling bony shoulder blades. He walked the blonde backwards into the corner, pressing him into the wall.

"Timer! Start deh count!"

"No don't, I've scheen enough already, augh!"

As Skwisgaar recovered from the initial shock of being sacked, the natural showman in him awoke. Fire coursed over Nathan's scalp as calloused fingers threaded into his hair, holding his head steady as Skwisgaar turned to deepen the kiss. Nathan's clenched jaw unlocked and his lips parted before he could overthink it.

"...seven, eight, nine..!"

The sound of their onlookers counting faded into the background, drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. He pushed a knee forward between Skwisgaar's thighs, catching a long leg as it wrapped behind his and hiking it up to his hip, leaving the blonde standing one legged like an albino flamingo.

"...fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen..!"

Skwisgaar bit down on Nathan's bottom lip and something in him broke, a cage door swinging open on its hinges. A growl rumbled in his chest as he reached down and grabbed the guitarist's other leg, hauling it up to his waist, lifting the other man from the floor as easily as he would carry groceries up from his car.

"... twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…!"

Fingers clawed into the material of his shirt, scratching against his back. The sudden urge to carry Skwisgaar away from the party, to drag him back to his cave like a neanderthal, blindsided Nathan and his muscles locked. Sensing the end of their performance, Skwisgaar sighed into his mouth, the pressure of his lips softening as he started to pull back.

"Thirty! Dat's time!" Pickles howled a laugh. "Holy shit guys, dat's game. Ain't nobody gonna top dat act, even if you hadn't broke deh bottle!"

Nathan opened his eyes as they broke off, the heated blue gaze in front of him driving any and all coherent thoughts from his brain. Gingerly, he released one of Skwisgaar's legs, then the other, white boots touching down on the floor, toe-heel, toe-heel. Standing once again under his own power, a slow, crooked smile stretched across Skwisgaar's face, a breathy chuckle shaking his shoulders once. It took every ounce of willpower Nathan possessed to tear his eyes away from the curve of those full lips, and he turned to face the other two members of his band.

Murderface had his eyes squeezed closed, cracking one to peek. "Isch it over? Are they done?"

Frowning, Nathan grunted through his nose like a bull, stomping forward to snatch the second bottle of liquor from the bassist's hands. Glass crunched beneath his boots as he retreated wordlessly to his bedroom, passing Magnus on the way out.

The older guitarist shook his head, curly mane swishing. "I coulda told ya… every time Pickles tries to pl--"

"Just. Don't." Nathan pushed through the hall, evicting the gaggle of strangers standing around in his room and slamming the door behind him.

Hours later, after the storm had slowed to only a downpour and the party had fizzled out, Nathan lay awake on his back, staring at the ceiling. From the second his door had closed behind him, his brain had flipped from a crawl to light speed, hurtling through thousands of moments from the last couple of years, all of them centered on interactions with his lead guitarist. Slender fingers brushing against his own as he passed the tv remote, blonde hair tickling against his arm as they drove with the windows down, the nervous fluttery feeling in his belly at the sound of a dorky, throaty chuckle.

Nathan ground the heels of his palms against his eye sockets hard enough to see stars. How long? When did these thoughts start popping up? And when had he started stomping them down, locking them away without acknowledgement? Sure, Skwisgaar was hot, he wasn't blind, he could admit that much. But this wasn't that, this was...he didn't know what this was.

But he needed to find out.

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he crept out to the door directly across the hall. He started to knock, then paused, not wanting to wake anyone else in the apartment. Nathan turned the knob and cracked the door enough to wedge his face into the gap.

"Hey. Psst. Skwisgaar, you in here?" Another thought struck him, an irrational jealous pang vibrating through him. "Uh, you alone?"

The red glow of a digital clock was the only source of light in the guitarist's bedroom, a faint silhouette shifted on the bed, backlit in flashes by the blinking 12:00.

"Nat'ans?" came a groggy voice from the covers. "What ams you doing up? What times am it?" He rolled to check the useless clock and groaned in exasperation.

"Can... can I..?" He didn't wait for an invitation, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, leaning back against it and clutching the door knob like an anchor.

As his eyes adjusted he could see Skwisgaar sit up, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wake up. Nathan chewed his bottom lip, the flesh tender in an not-unpleasant way. For the second time tonight his mind blanked on him completely.

"What's de matters?"

He swallowed. "Uh."

"Nat'ans?"

"Uhhhh."

Skwisgaar waited, studying him in the dark, giving him time to organize his thoughts. It was something Nathan had always appreciated about the Swede, having (mostly) learned a second language, he understood the occasional difficulties Nathan ran into expressing himself verbally.

"I uh. Earlier."

"Ja."

"I didn't. I didn't think that."

Skwisgaar shifted on the bed, turning to fully face Nathan, still waiting patiently.

"That it would…"

"Hm?"

Nathan inhaled deeply through his nose, forcing the last words out in a rush. "Wouldbelikethatthefirstime."

He waited, certain that Skwisgaar would brush it off, dismiss it as nothing, a game. Or worse, that he'd laugh. Nathan held his breath, ready to bolt in embarrassment. This was stupid, he was stupid, what had be been thinking, it had been a game, it meant nothing.

"Ams you sayingk you wants a do-overs?"

He could hear the smile in the other man's voice, cadence low and teasing, but without cruelty. Playful.

"I-I uh." He'd used up his words for the day, instead opting for a jerky nod.

A ghostly white hand reached out in the dark, forefinger crooking, beckoning him.

"Come heres den." As Nathan shuffled forward he could see Skwisgaar's eyes shining like a cat's. "Ams a firm believer dats practice make perfects."

[atheistforhumanity]

The Roman Diocese of Brooklyn vs Gov. Cuomo of NY

Last night, of Thanksgiving Eve, the new supreme court made a judgement on a challenge by the Roman Diocese to lift Gov. Cuomo Covid-19 restrictions on them, claiming they violate their First Amendment rights. 

Gov. Cuomo of New York, where I live, has developed a color coding system that identifies covid hotspots. In NYC, this has portioned out many parts of the city in green, yellow, and red. The dioceses that brought this objection to court are within the cities Red Zones. Cuomo, who has been strong in placing restriction since covid began, has placed major limitations on church attendance in the red and yellow areas. Surrounding businesses in the area have been able to stay open if they are considered to be essential. Keep in mind that many people, conservatives especially, have been very fearful of another widespread close of businesses. Small business owners especially have been voicing that another shutdown would put them out of business for good. So, this could explain why Cuomo’s definition of essential has been rather broad.

Churches in red zones have been restricted to gatherings of no larger than 10 people. In yellow zones they may have 25 attendants. In a 5-4 decision, with Justice Roberts siding with liberals, the conservative voices on the court won with the addition of Amy Barret. In Justice Gorsuch’s concurrence he attacked Cuomo for discriminatory action against religious institutions saying, “So, at least according to the Governor, it may be unsafe to go to church, but it is always fine to pick up another bottle of wine, shop for a new bike, or spend the afternoon exploring your distal points and meridians.” The latter comment was referring to acupuncture, which personally I would not consider essential. On the other hand, it is also a small business that would likely never recover from a shut down. 

Gorsuch’s argument for discrimination is that churches are being treated differently from the secular businesses around them. He even says, “People may gather inside for extended periods in bus stations and airports, in laundromats and banks, in hardware stores and liquor shops.” Gorsuch sees this as an unfair restriction made of churches, but no other business. He says that Cuomo seems to consider church less essential than other businesses. 

Well, I would have to agree that church is less essential than these other businesses. While I fully understand the importance of churches to communities, especially in times of distress, we must consider the risks and benefits. In NYC, some churches usually gather hundreds of people together. No matter what the activity, such gatherings are down right dangerous in a pandemic. Even while trying to take precautions, those kind of numbers create significant opportunity for spreading the virus. Orthodox Jews joined in the complaint against Cuomo, but Orthodox communities have been resistant to following covid guidelines, and pose more of a risk than other gatherings or businesses. Something like a bike repair shop will never have such massive numbers cramped together, so to even mention them in argument is to knowingly use a false comparison. Travel centers on the other hand like bus stations and airports are comparable. Fair enough, but right now we must balance the fact that the entire air line industry is on the brink of collapsing and the fact that we’re entering a whole new spike of illness. Personally, I think there should have been travel restrictions for the holidays, but we all know that Cuomo would face massive backlash had he treated those businesses the same as churches. 

Unlike these businesses that have been allowed to remain open, for now, churches will not permanently disappear due to lack of attendance during the pandemic. If people are not able to have massive church gatherings or even just large gatherings, no one will be choosing between heat and food, no one will lose all their investments, no one will be unable to pay their rent or mortgage. As it stands, it looks as if we may have to go back to a shutdown if NY were to get as bad as other states. So I do think it’s reasonable to argue that church is less essential and posses a much greater risk to communities. Furthermore, religion is something that is not solely practiced at a weekly gathering. Temporary restrictions on gatherings does not completely prevent people people from practicing their religion.   

I believe that a compromise could be made with churches for slightly larger gatherings, with which they could adapt by holding more frequent gathers, however, now Cuomo has been blocked from placing any restrictions that are not considered on-par with other businesses. While I don’t blame people for wanting to attend their faith services, I do believe that fighting such restrictions is part of a larger problematic mindset where the health precautions suggest by our body of health experts are distorted to seem too overbearing and not necessary by non-medical community leaders. 

[lothirielswanmarvel]

Chapter 1 of Avengers: Love and Lightning

Love interest: Thor (+ a Peter Quill love triangle later introduced in the series)

“Vision, what's next on the list?”

“Blueberries, sir—boss—tiny man with lots of money,” Vision stuttered as we walked on the aisle. Tony Stark, famous billionaire and world-saver, sat in the shopping cart that I pushed, munching on an open box of pocky.

“Tiny Man better not squish my M&Ms,” Rhodey muttered. Every now and then, Rhodey would reach out and steady himself against the edge of the cart. The metal casts that encased his legs were bulky, and I couldn't imagine how irritating they were. I noticed Vision wince every time Rhodey stopped to gather himself.

I sighed. My family had gone through a divorce recently (and you can imagine how crappy that was, given Director Nick Fury was practically the priest that united the match). The Avengers had separated, leaving all parties in broken pieces. All of the people I cared about in my incredibly tiny yet fulfilling social circle were in pain. How was someone like me, an introvert with zero superpowers, supposed to fix that?

“Oh! Can we pick up some cucumbers?” Shuri asked. Her voice was light and had a hint of an accent to it. She wore bright colors and had a chipper air to her. Sometimes, I swore she was a character from an anime brought to life.  

“No,” T’Challa said sternly.

Our group took up the entire aisle, and as we slowly inched towards the end, I daydreamed about the book I had stashed under my bed in the Compound. But I forced myself out of my comfort zone, more than a regular amount: I felt like they needed me. And I honestly cared too much to forsake any of the Avengers right now.

“Ms. Angie, can I have some cucumbers please?” Shuri turned to me with a polite smile on her face.

I blinked. “You’re the princess of an entire continent. I'm pretty sure I have no say here.”

“Sure you do, Ms. Angie,” Peter Parker, another random kid that Tony adopted off the street, raced up to our party. He stuffed a bunch of doughnuts in our cart. Tony nodded his approval, “ ‘Atta boy. Now go steal the bananas by the ‘kids get free snacks’ sign.”

“Don't listen to him, Peter. Tony can go by himself,” I said. “And what do you mean, I have a say?”

Peter shrugged. “Well, you’re an adult, right? You’re old enough to drink, that's pretty old.”

I stopped pushing the cart abruptly and gaped at Tiny Man 2.0. “Wait, hold on a minute, did you just call me old?”

“You read books all the time,” Shuri replied.

“You always prefer your free time in solitude,” Vision interjected.

“And you look…” Peter trailed off as he studied my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tony making cutting motions with his hands.

“You look, uh,” Peter swallowed. “You look really young. I mean, you dated Thor and he's like a thousand years old. You're practically dating the elderly.”

“Woah, that is not cool, man,” Rhodey shook his head.

“We need to work on how you talk to women,” Tony told Parker. Then he turned in the cart to glance at me, and cowered behind a jar of Nutella. In the background, T’Challa started hitting his head on a box of cereal.

I sucked in a breath as I processed all of this information. “Okay, a few points to be made here: I am a young woman in the prime of my life.”

“Who radiates youth and beauty,” T’Challa offered.

I continued, trying not to blush, “Right...er, thanks. Number two: I never dated Thor. If I wanted to date the elderly, I’d call up Bucky in Wakanda. Last thing,”

I stared down Vision, Peter, Shuri, and Tony. “if I am the adult, that means you are the child.”

I continued down the aisle, tugging Tony along in the cart. “Rhodey, pick up some Minute Maid juice boxes for the kids.”

“But I like Juicy Juice more…” Parker whined.

“Tough!” I turned around the corner, and crashed carts with someone. I winced at the sound. Tony squirmed in the metal basket, “Hey—oh, they visited the liquor section.”

Tony reached out to steal the pack of beer and yelped when three long blades came before his hand.

“I’m so sorry! Hi, Logan,” I said, facing most of the staff of the X-Men. Professor Charles Xavier was sitting in the cart, giving Tony a disapproving look. Erik Lensherr pushed the cart without even touching the handle, who offered an unfriendly sneer to Vision. Hank McCoy was nearby, studying the shopping list. Sometimes he glanced up at me and quickly looked back down at the slip of paper.

“Our deepest apologies, Ms. Green,” Charles wore a friendly smile when he met my gaze. “Do excuse us. Mister Wade Wilson has been draining our supply of snacks for the students, so we’re here to pick up more biscuits.”

“That's british for crackers,” Hank McCoy translated.

“They don't need to know our life story, bub,” Logan grunted.

“Right. We must be off,” Charles waved as his cart started moving by itself. “Good day to you, Avengers.”

Erik sneered at Vision as they passed. “Next time you touch my daughter, remember: I can control metal.”

The group marched off to raise havoc in the bakery department.

“The other side of the pond is crazy,” Rhodey remarked, watching them go.

Tony held up a beer in victory, “Ugh, why is this warm? We’re getting some Aviation American Gin.”

I started pushing Tony again. Both him and the doughnuts had some weight to them. “No alcohol around kids.”

“But mom!”

“No dice,” I said. Our group kept walking. My mind wandered back to what Peter mentioned: he thought Thor and I were dating. We were intimate—I mean, we were close, not in a romantic way, but...he always came up to me first when he returned to Earth. Thor sent me exotic flowers from Asgard sometimes, when he was away—he called me his “earthen goddess” on the tag, and it always made me feel all warm and tingly.

Thor and I had struck up a system while he was away, too: to make sure he was alive, we sent letters through Heimdall for each other. I felt bad bothering the poor Watcher of the Nine Realms, but at least I knew Thor was okay. He was off doing space stuff, and I did my earth stuff: I just...I missed him sometimes.

Only when fiery sparks filled the air did I return to reality (only Thor could make me forget what planet I was on). Doctor Stephen Strange appeared before us.

“Hey,” I was the first to recognize him. I probably knew him better than everyone else; my health history wasn't...pristine.

Tony stuck his tongue out at him like a five year-old. “What, you got tired of your blue telephone box?”

Peter and Shuri gasped. “Can I be your companion?”

“I asked first! I got dibs! Ha!”

“No fair! You didn't even get your Hogwarts letter!”

Stephen smirked, and despite Tony, leaned on the front of the cart, holding my gaze. “Hello. Food shopping with the family?”

“And pursuing other condiments, including feminine hygiene products and alcoholic beverages,” Vision added.

I plastered a smile on my face. “Just an ordinary day living among superheroes. Very boring.”

Shuri nodded vigorously. “It's true! All Ms. Angie does is sit on the couch and play video games and cry over made-up people. There is nothing interesting going on in her life.”

I gripped the handle to the cart tightly, silently vowing never to have children. Stephen’s cheekbones were sharp and taut like they were held up by internal wiring. He had a regalness to him. I was one of the few around that he actually joked with, “I disagree. I think there are plenty of interesting things about you.”

I made a face at him, wondering if this was a hint to a new health crisis—or even worse—an attempt to flirt with me. Suddenly T’Challa was right next to me. “What is your motive in this visit, Strange? Perhaps you have run out of money, and cannot afford basic necessities.”

I groaned at the two of them. “Please play nice. I think I’ve finally reached the temptation to buy Aviation American Gin. Tony, direct me.”

“Yay!” Tony pointed Logan’s stolen beer bottle towards the end of the aisle. I followed my soon to-be tipsy compass.

Stephen still lingered in our group. I glanced over at him, “If there’s anything you’d like…”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” He said.

“Angeline, I think you are too kind to the misfortunate,” T’Challa mused.

“Guys, please. I get enough bickering as it is: I'm surrounded by four kids,” I motioned again across our group. “Let’s just be nice, and enjoy Tony’s black card.”

We reached the end of the aisle and a curse flew from my mouth. I crashed carts with someone else.

“I'm so sorry—” I trailed off when I looked up at the person.

“Intruders!” Scott Lang raised his nerf gun from his seat in the shopping cart. “Make way, people! It's the White Jets to our Latino Sharks!”

Steve Rogers sighed. “Scott, you have to stop watching musicals with Cassie.”

[prabhavgautam]

I heard that liquor shops will be open in green zones. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . #fashion #chic #bareskin #fashionmen #menstyle #hujicam #instafashion #skincare #fashionbloggerindia #ulzzang #ulzzangboy #bts #fitness #shirtless #gay #exo #streetstyle #bodypositivity #menswear #outfit #fashionblog #fashionblogger #stylist #Fashioninsta #팔로우 #좋아요 #셁카 #일상 #2gethertheseries #indian @kun11xd @jacksonwang852g7 @jessicah_o @lucas_xx444 @baekhyunee_exo @kimjuncotton @oohsehun (at One Golden Mile) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_rTWYdlTuz/?igshid=1261fyji8suc6

[letterfromtrenwith]

A Feast for the Senses

A George/Elizabeth AU fic.

While hunting for a last minute gift, George Warleggan is drawn to the Cusgarne Chocolate Company, where he meets the chocolaterie's lovely owner, Elizabeth Chynoweth, and finds himself unable to resist returning...

~

George mentally cursed himself as he hurried down the street, turning up the collar of his coat against the chilly autumn wind. How could he have been so stupid? He could blame the chaos of the move and setting up the new office. Except part of the reason he had been so keen to move back to Cornwall was to be nearer his Aunt Joan, and now he had gone and forgotten her birthday!

For once in his life – and completely unintentionally – Uncle Cary had actually managed to be helpful, in that he had been the one to remind George, during the course of an otherwise all-business call.

“I suppose you’ll be out at your godmother’s tonight…I’ll tell you what, finding out she was born on Halloween wasn’t much of a surprise.” Cary had probably kept talking, considering he rarely let an opportunity to complain about Joan pass him by, but George had zoned out, staring in seasonally-appropriate horror at the date on his desk-top calendar.

He’d essentially just hung up on Cary, pulled his coat on and hurried out passed a bemused Margaret and Emma, saying he had an appointment and would see them in the morning. It was already just after 4pm, so he didn’t have long before the shops closed. The supermarkets would be open later, of course, but he didn’t want a cheap bunch of flowers and a bottle of Asti. Joan had been his mum’s best friend, and George had been close to her his whole life. She deserved something special.

Although he’d visited her several times while he’d been living in London, he hadn’t actually been into Truro proper for years, not even in the time since he’d moved back. He’d been too busy opening up the new branch. Almost all of the shops had changed from what he vaguely remembered, which did nothing to help him. How he could possibly have failed to remember the date became more bewildering as he went, considering almost every building he passed, and not just the shops, was covered in orange and black decorations. Now he thought about it, at least two of the other flats in his new building had had pumpkin lanterns outside their doors when he left this morning.

Even the little art shop he came to had delicate strips of black crepe trailing down its windows, framing several suitably gothic paintings. Knowing his aunt’s fondness for art, he went inside. Despite some difficulty extracting himself from the overly chatty owner, he considered it a successful visit, coming away with a very nice watercolour of Mousehole and a birthday card featuring a charming illustration of two foxes frolicking in awoodland.

George was just deciding whether to finish off with flowers or chocolates when the scent of the latter decided it for him. Warm and rich, the scent was fleeting but incredibly enticing. He managed to follow it to the entrance of a small courtyard, which was made up of half a dozen traditional shop fronts gathered around a paved square and big stone fountain, its water covered in the orange and yellow leaves which fell from two trees growing up between the stones. Directly in front of him was the obvious source of the aroma. Gold lettering flowing beautifully over midnight blue paint proclaimed the establishment to be The Cusgarne Chocolate Company.

Their window was also decorated for Halloween, but far more uniquely than the plastic skeletons and furry spiders in the other shops. Across the glass, delicate white cursive quoted Shakespeare: “Double, double, toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble…” The display itself centred on a witch’s cauldron, which George realised was actually skilfully crafted out of dark chocolate. Green goo oozed over the side and orange flames burned underneath, both likely made out of sugar.

To the left was an odd assortment of chocolate creatures: bats, snakes, and what looked like lizards. He recalled the Macbeth reference – the ingredients of the witches’ brew. It also made sense of the little tableaux on the right hand side: trees made of chocolate and sugar, with tiny human-like figures hidden amongst them; the woods advancing on Dunsinane. The artistry and creativity of the display was truly amazing. Now, he wanted to go in as much out of curiosity as to buy something for Joan.

A traditional shop-bell tinkled over his head as he pushed open the door. Inside, the smell was incredible, and his stomach chose that moment to remind him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. At that same moment, a woman appeared behind the counter. He was about to say hello but then she smiled at him and he found he couldn’t say anything. She was tall with dark hair and soft features, and her smile took his breath away. The colour of her apron matched the décor outside, and the colour suited her.

“Can I help?” At her raised eyebrows, he realised he was probably staring at her like an idiot. He cleared his throat, gripping his parcel tightly. “Were you looking for something in particular?”

“Oh, er – “ George finally shook some sense into himself. “I want to get a present for someone.”

“Wife? Girlfriend?”

“No! Er, no – I don’t have – That is, it’s for my Aunt. It’s her birthday. Today.”

“Oh, last minute, hmm?” She smiled again, gently teasing and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Well, I’ve just moved and – “ Why was he telling her that? “Never mind.”

“Let’s see what we have for her.” She indicated a display of chocolate in a cabinet in front of her and George finally left where he’d been standing awkwardly in the doorway. “I can make you up a selection box of a few different flavours.”

“That sounds nice.” He propped his bag from the art shop up against the counter. “I was just, er, admiring your window display. It’s very original.”

“Oh, thank you.” There was that flooring smile again. “But that’s Morwenna’s work, really. My cousin – and business partner. She’s the real artist, I just make the chocolates.”

“Well, they look lovely, as well.” They really did. The cabinet held an extraordinary variety – milk, dark and white chocolate in many different shapes.

“What does she like? Your Aunt?”

“Er – “ George had never said ‘er’ as many times in his life as he had in these last few minutes. “She likes liquors, and nuts, and dark chocolate.”

“Oh, a woman of taste! I can do her a box of 16, with four different flavours?”

“That would be great, thank you.” She fished in the pocket of her apron, coming out with a pair of glasses. Putting them on only made her more attractive and George had to glance away, pretending to examine a display on the other side of the small shop floor, although he barely actually took it.

“So, where did you move from?”

“Hmm?” He looked back to see her peering intently into the cabinet, considering the selection in front of her.

“You said you moved.”

“Oh, yes. From London. Although, I’m from Cornwall, originally, actually. But, I’ve been working for the family company, and we’ve opened an office here.”

“What sort of work do you do?...Would she like a gin truffle, do you think?”

“Er, yes, she would, and we do investment banking.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting! Dark chocolate salted caramel?”

“Yes, please, and not really. It’s just lots of numbers. I imagine it’s not as interesting as making chocolate.”

“Maybe not.” She flashed him another smile; she really was stunning. “Does she like marzipan?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then what about….pistachio squares and marzipan cherry deluxe?”

“Sounds delicious.” She finished packing the chocolates, neatly folding the lid of the elegantly embossed gold box closed then sealing it with an imitation wax seal bearing what George assumed was the company logo.

“I hope she likes them.”

“I’m sure she will.” After he had paid, she passed him the box, their fingertips touching as he took it. With her leaning forward, he finally got a good look at the name sewn into her apron. “Thank you, Elizabeth.”

“It was my pleasure.” 

~

About a week later, George found himself loitering on the street outside the entrance to the courtyard, debating whether or not to go in. He did have a legitimate reason to go back to the shop, but still felt like a silly teenager, manufacturing an excuse to see a pretty girl again.

Pretending it was just out of interest, he’d taken the invitation on the little business card clipped to his receipt, which suggested a visit to the shop’s website. He’d learned that they’d been in business just a little over three years, and it was a family company, owned by Elizabeth and the cousin she’d mentioned, Morwenna, as well as a third girl with the same surname, Rowella. He’d heard of the Chynoweth family before; they’d been landowners a few hundred years ago, same as the Warleggans.

From a professional point of view, the business seemed very impressive.  Aside from a small selection of unusual products sourced from around the world, everything they sold was handmade on site, using local ingredients wherever possible. All of their honey and edible flowers were sourced from the big Trenwith estate, which had its own organic farm shop now, according to Joan. They offered special ordering for occasions and even had a small online business, delivering to the local area. From their website, he found their Instagram profile, which included pictures of some of the window displays Elizabeth had credited to her cousin. They really were stunning. According to a post from a few months ago, the shop had won a Cornish Business Award, the three women posing proudly in evening dresses.

Macbeth had disappeared from the window today, replaced by a sugar bonfire and a chocolate Guy, flanked by brightly coloured candy Catherine wheels. At the sound of the bell, Elizabeth looked up from where she was adjusting a display next to the till.

“Oh, hello again! Did your Aunt like her present?” He had to admit to a slight suffusion of pleasure at the fact she remembered him, even though it had only been a few days.

“Yes, she loved them. I actually came back to get her some more of those marzipan cherry things.”

“Oh…” Her face softened, the corners of her lovely mouth turning slightly downward. “I’m afraid we don’t have any. We sold out but one of our suppliers has been having problems, so we don’t have the ingredients to make any more at the minute.”

“Oh. Well, that’s all right.”

“Is there anything else you’d like?”

“Yes, as it happens.” Just then, George realised they weren’t alone. A girl George recognised as Morwenna was talking to two women at the far end of the counter, in front of several copper pots warming on burners, something he somehow had managed not to notice the last time he was here, although they were clearly creating the wonderful smell that had brought him here in the first place. “One of my colleagues is going on maternity leave this week, and I’d like to get her something.”

“How lovely! When is she due?”

“In about six weeks.” Margaret finding out she was pregnant just after she’d agreed to re-locate to join the new office hadn’t been the best timing, but it was hardly her fault. Besides, part of the reason she’d agreed was that her and her husband wanted to get out of the City. Unfortunately, it meant that he and Emma had to take on her clients themselves at the same time as getting the new branch on an even keel. At least until they could find someone to cover her.

“Wonderful! What do you think she would like? Rose and violet creams might be nice for a new mum?”

“I think she would like those, actually. Thank you.”

“How are you settling in? To your new house? And job? If – er – if you don’t mind me asking.”

“No, er. It’s a bit hectic, but it’s going okay. I still haven’t unpacked at the flat, though.” There he went, talking too much at her again. God, it really had been too long since he’d had any kind of normal social interaction with anyone. Let alone a beautiful woman. Her laugh was wonderful. Suddenly, he became aware they were being watched. While they’d been talking, Morwenna had been pouring hot chocolate into paper cups for the other customers, and now she was finished she was looking over at him and her cousin with a quirked eyebrow. She probably saw men making utter fools of themselves in front of Elizabeth every day.

“Here you are. Um – I could, er, I could call you when we get more of those chocolates made, that your Aunt likes. If you’d like to leave your details, that is.”

“Oh, well, er, yes, that would be very good of you. Here.” Rummaging in his jacket pocket, he produced a business card. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She read the card with a hint of a smile. “George.”

~

“There’s a woman on the phone for you.” Emma waylaid George as he returned to the office from a meeting with some potential new clients. “Says she’s from some chocolate company?”

“Oh, put her through.” George tried not to sound too excited, even though he’d felt a little thrill knowing Elizabeth had called him, even if it was only to tell him that she had some chocolates in stock that his Aunt liked. God, he was pathetic.

“George? Hello, it’s Elizabeth Chynoweth here, from Cusgarne. I’m sorry it’s been so long, but we ended up having to find a new supplier. I think the new recipe is just as nice as the old one, but maybe your Aunt can be our official tester!” Even over the phone, her laugh was musical. “I’ve put a box aside for you.”

“Oh, thank you very much. I’m a little busy at work at the moment, but I’ll try to drop in – “

“I was going to say, we’re having a special evening at the beginning of next week – the 2nd -  for the Christmas light switch on. When they do the late night shopping, you know? Well, I suppose you don’t – Anyway, would you like to come? We’re open until 8.”  

“Oh, that would be nice. I’ll – I’ll see you then.”

George spent the next week in a state of eager anticipation, as if he were going out on a date, instead of dropping into a Christmas sale at a chocolate shop. He even found himself considering what he should wear, looking at his wardrobe on the morning of the 2nd and trying to decide which was his nicest suit. Crossly, he told himself not to be so pathetic, but still pulled out a dark blue one which Margaret had once told him complemented his eyes. 

The shop was busy when he arrived just before half past 6, people milling about with glasses in their hands, some already carrying bags emblazoned with the shop’s logo. Clearly, the event was doing well for them. Christmas music was playing quietly and thankfully unobtrusively in the background, and the usual delicious aroma was even more so, layered with other flavours George couldn’t place.

“George! You came!” Elizabeth slipped between two chatting couples. Tonight, her apron was worn over simple black dress, which made her look even more stunning. Her smile was wide and welcoming and she seemed almost excited to see him. Considering the obvious success of the evening, she couldn’t be that keen to get one sale, could she? “Would you like a drink?”

“Er…”

“There’s mulled wine, or not mulled wine, or – “

“Or a chocolate martini. Here.” George took the glass, because it was presented to him so firmly he didn’t feel like he could refuse. He recognised the young woman who handed it to him as the third partner in the business, Rowella Chynoweth. Unlike Morwenna, who resembled Elizabeth quite strongly, she was more petite, with fair hair, but she was still unmistakably a Chynoweth. “I may not know much about chocolate, but I do know how to make a killer martini.”

Killer was right. It was very tasty, but also incredibly strong. One sip and George had to blink several times to feel like he could see straight again. Then again, he hadn’t had more than a single glass of wine to be polite at business dinners in he didn’t know how long.

“Rowella helps out in the shop sometimes, but she mostly deals with the business side of things for us.” Elizabeth explained, giving her cousin a look George was unable to interpret.

“I’m the brains, and they’re the beauty.” Rowella grinned. “So, you’re the famous George.”

“Er – “ He doubted that, somehow.

“Rowella – “ Before Elizabeth could say anymore, she was interrupted by a cry from across the room.

“George?! George Warleggan, is that you?” A petite brunette politely elbowed her way through the crowd towards him. It took a couple of moments to place her, although he didn’t know if that was because he hadn’t seen her in years or the effects of the martini.

“Verity? Wow!” George had gone to school with Verity’s brother Francis Poldark a long time ago, but they’d mostly lost touch after going off to university. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you! And you? I saw the new office, but I didn’t know you’d come with it!”

“Well, I have.” Wanting to get the conversation away from himself – especially as Rowella was still looking at him speculatively – George looked between Verity and Elizabeth. “Do you two know each other?”

“Verity’s one of our suppliers – Trenwith Organics.”

“Oh, of course!” He had forgotten that the estate belonged to the Poldarks. When they’d been at school, Francis’ father had been having some financial troubles with it, troubles which it seemed his children had managed to solve. “You’ve got the big farm shop now, haven’t you? I saw the signs for it when I drove down. How’s that doing?”

“Oh, great!” This thankfully led into a business related discussion, a topic George was much more comfortable with. It turned out the Poldarks were looking to expand their business even further by opening a full restaurant at the farm shop, and George was able to refer Verity to some financial people in that line. “You know, the Cusgarne range is one of our best-sellers in the shop. We can’t replace the stock fast enough!”

“Oh, well, you know – “ Elizabeth looked charmingly embarrassed at Verity’s praise, a wonderful soft pink blush creeping over her cheeks.

“And Morwenna made us a chocolate Trenwith for our birthday celebrations! It was amazing! She’s a true artist.”

“She is.” George couldn’t argue there. Tonight’s window was back to Shakespeare again – a Winter’s Tale complete with intricately painted chocolate bear.

This led onto talk of Cusgarne’s own expansion plans, Rowella explaining that they hoped to increase their online business, as well create some new product lines.

“Once we can afford the R&D, of course. I’ve made a contact with a local distillery, and we’d love to make a chocolate gin with them. We’ve done some small test batches, but we really need to put some more substantial time into it, which we just don’t have at the moment. We’ve been focusing on the beauty side.”

“Beauty?” George wasn’t sure he’d heard that correctly.

“Yes. Verity’s sister-in-law, Demelza, she makes her own line of soaps and hand creams and things.” It took him a moment to process the news that Francis had managed to get himself married. “She uses ingredients from the Trenwith estate, usually, but her and Elizabeth came up with the idea to do some cacao-flavoured products. We’re just testing the waters with them at the moment, but – Hang on.” Rowella hurried away to the other side of the room, Elizabeth watching her go with a smile.

“I’m sorry, she’s very enthusiastic.”

“That’s okay. It’s very impressive, actually. I meet a lot of business people, and not many have the kind of focus and vision you all seem to.”

“Oh, that’s so kind of you to say.” There was that blush again, and George feared a far less attractive version might be appearing on his own face.

“While she’s off, let me get you those chocolates for your Aunt, and I want to ask your opinion on a new recipe.” Verity excused herself to talk to someone else, and George followed Elizabeth over to the counter, on which sat several little platters of different chocolates, over which was a beautifully handwritten sign saying ‘Eat me’. Evidently Shakespeare wasn’t Morwenna’s only literary inspiration. “These are my new Christmas flavours.”

He saw White Chocolate Coconut Snowball, Christmas Pudding Truffle, and Milk Chocolate & Roast Chestnut, but Elizabeth picked up the tray marked Mulled Wine Truffle.

“I’m not completely certain about this one, so I’m canvassing for opinions tonight. Would you try one for me?” George shifted his now empty martini glass to the other hand so he could pick up a chocolate but, to his surprise, Elizabeth lifted one and held it out to him, close enough to his mouth to make her intention clear. Imagining she could probably hear his heart pounding, George leant forward and took the sweet, his lips just touching her fingertips. Since she wanted his opinion on the flavour, he tried to focus on that rather than the way his blood was doing its level best to rush away from his head. “What do you think?”

“I think – “ He coughed slightly. “I think that Morwenna isn’t the only artist in your family.”

“Oh, my – “ Just then, Rowella appeared again, brandishing a tube of cacao & burnt orange hand cream, which she insisted George try.

Later that night, the charming scent still on his hands and boxes of chocolates on the coffee table, George sat down at his laptop and pulled up a search engine. He needed to do some research. 

~

Christmas shopping was his next excuse to visit the shop, which was almost as busy as it had been on their party night. Clearly it was a popular place to buy gifts, and the wintery weather which had settled over Cornwall made their hot chocolates especially appealing. Morwenna poured him an orange flavoured one, having failed to persuade him to accept a shot of brandy in it instead.

“I have to go back to work after this.”

“I’m at work,” she replied, adding a measure of Irish cream to the cup she had behind the counter. He assumed she didn’t drink on the job when she was doing her windows – today was a chocolate Santa’s sleigh filled with brightly-coloured sugar gifts, soaring over a white chocolate and powdered sugar snow scene.  

“Yes, but you’re the boss.”

“So are you.” This was an excellent point, but he was saved from having to refute it by Elizabeth appearing with a welcoming smile. She was more than happy to help him pick out his gifts, most of which were either corporate ones, or for his employees. Cary got a bottle of whisky every year, and besides him there was only Joan to buy for on the personal side.

“So, what are your plans for Christmas?” Elizabeth asked as she made up a box of their different flavoured chocolate squares for a private trust the firm handled investments for.

“Oh, er, not much. Dinner with my Aunt here, but back to London for the day itself.” He’d probably end up working. Cary wasn’t the festive type, but for some reason he got grumpy if George didn’t come home for Christmas, despite the fact he usually spent most of the day drinking in his study. “Although I’m actually going to be there for a while.”

“Oh. Really? How long?” She made an odd expression as she closed and sealed the box, placing it with the others.

“Maybe a month. Just some things that need finished off back there.” With Margaret still off, Emma had been displeased to find George was going away for a month, as well. They had maternity cover for Margaret now, as well as support staff in place and a graduate trainee, so he was entirely confident Emma could manage.

“Oh, well. You won’t be away too long, then.”

“No.”

“Shall I gift wrap all of these for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know – “ He glanced at his watch, and then back at the door as two new customers jangled their way in. “I’ve got to get back, and you’re getting busy.”

“I’ll do them this afternoon. You can come back and collect them later.”

“Oh, thank you.” He paused. “Er – When I come back – from London, that is, there’s something I’d like to talk about, with you.”

“Oh?”

“About your business.”

“Oh.” Was it just him, or did she sound slightly disappointed? “Well, I look forward to that. I’ll see you later.”

It was oddly dismissive, and George spent the rest of the afternoon wondering if he’d offended her somehow. Maybe she didn’t want some corporate type interfering in her family business? He hadn’t considered that. How arrogant of him. Perhaps he should apologise to her. However, when he got back to the shop later on, he found Morwenna alone. Apparently, Elizabeth had gone out to see a supplier. George did his best to hide his disappointment.

“But she did leave you all these.” She handed him a pile of beautifully wrapped boxes, before placing a final one on the top which he didn’t recognise.

“Oh, that’s not.”

“It’s on the house, for being such a good customer.” She winked at him, and he wondered how many of those ‘special’ hot chocolates she’d had.

At home, he opened the package, finding inside a selection of poinsettia shaped chocolates flavoured with caramel, and a little note in soft, flowing hand which he knew instinctively was Elizabeth’s.

Merry Christmas. Good luck in London, and make sure to come and see us when you get back.

Underneath that was a phone number. 

~

It ended up being closer to six weeks in London, and they were the longest of George’s life. He spent several days debating whether to call Elizabeth – she had given him her number after all. But why had she? Just because he’d said he wanted to talk business? He wanted to do that face-to-face. In the end, a few days after the New Year, Elizabeth settled it for him.

Hi. Hope you had a good new year. Your aunt came in for some more marzipan cherry. She’s found some new flavours she likes, too! :D

This led into them texting occasionally throughout his stay, George feeling a little blip of excitement every time his phone trilled a text alert, and then immediately scolding himself for acting like a love-struck teenager. A little while after the first message, he received an email from his aunt, mostly just her usual general chat, but with a small PS tacked onto the bottom:

You never told me that Elizabeth girl from the chocolate shop was so lovely – although I suppose I should have guessed by how much you were talking about her. Although, I’m sure she only keeps inviting me back so she can talk to me about you.

That couldn’t be true, could it? Surely Elizabeth just liked Joan – he could see why they would get on well. From Elizabeth’s messages, Joan had quickly become something of a regular at the shop. George imagined she would appreciate Morwenna’s ‘enhanced’ hot chocolates.

Meanwhile, in his spare moments , he worked on the proposal he wanted to make to Elizabeth – the business proposal. He was going to offer to secure investment in the business: to fund their research & development, maybe expansion to larger premises if they wanted, to take on extra staff so Rowella could devote herself full time to the management – and so they could increase production. George generally didn’t deal with a lot of small businesses, but the model wasn’t actually that different to larger companies in some ways. He did know about the failure rate of small businesses, especially food related ones, and they’d already beaten the odds on that.

He kept telling himself he was doing this solely because he was impressed with their work – and he was – but would he really be offering to find funding for some other nicely run little shop he might have accidentally wandered into, one where a beautiful woman hadn’t stepped out behind the counter and floored him with a single smile?

Well, it didn’t matter what his underlying motives were, he honestly did think the Cusgarne Chocolate Company deserved a boost, and a boost was really all they needed. He’d have to have a proper look at their accounts, but considering their current expansion plans they seemed to be operating on a steady financial basis.

A few days before he was due to arrive back in Cornwall, George sent Elizabeth a message:

Hi Elizabeth. I’m going to be back in Truro next week, and I was wondering if we could meet up? I’d like to discuss that business matter with you. If you’re interested, that is.

Every second until she replied felt like an age.

I’d love to. Friday, okay? You can drop by shop after closing. Any time after 6.

~

He gave the window a quick look – a sort of sculpture that looked like a mineral, painted purple. It was very pretty, and executed with Morwenna’s usual skill, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was.

The door was locked, and there was no sign of anyone inside, although the lights were still on. Perhaps they’d forgotten? Or maybe they were running late. He’d assumed Elizabeth would bring in her cousins – his aunt had managed to clarify the exact relationship between the three women, George not having liked to ask – since they were her co-owners in the business, and Rowella was the manager.

At his knock, Elizabeth hurried out from the back and came to let him in. Although it was not as strong as during opening hours, the warm scent of chocolate still lingered. It was such a comforting aroma, and George hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it while he’d been away. He knew how much he’d missed Elizabeth’s smile, however.

“Come in! It’s freezing out there.”

“It is.” He followed her through into the back. The kitchen was, as he’d suspected, rather compact; these old buildings usually didn’t have much space. It was actually impressive that they produced so much here. To his left, he saw a tiny office with a safe. Rowella’s domain, presumably. She was not there now, though. In fact, she wasn’t in evidence at all, and neither was Morwenna. “Are the others on their way?”

“Oh, they’re not coming.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know what to say to that. Was Elizabeth just here to let him down gently? It was kind of her, but she could have just told him they weren’t interested in whatever he had to say. He attempted to counteract his slight disappointment with a moment of levity. “I was hoping to ask Morwenna what her window is!”

“Oh, it’s amethyst. February birthstone.”

“Oh. Well, it’s very pretty.”

“Yes. I don’t know how she comes up with them all. She’s being very secretive about her Valentine’s Day one.” There was a slightly awkward pause as they stood facing each other next to a spotlessly clean metal bench. George decided to make one last ditch attempt at persuading her.

“Look, about my proposition – proposal.” Quickly – and far more nervously than he’d ever spoken even when addressing a conference hall full of hard-nosed hedge fund managers – he outlined what he wanted them to consider, and the potential for their business it could bring. “You could increase your beauty line, or even move into other foodstuffs, different merchandise, maybe even a recipe book…But, maybe you don’t want some bloke you hardly know interfering in your business and you’ve just kindly let me waste your time.”

“No!” Elizabeth had been listening in what seemed to him to be politely tolerant silence, but suddenly she became a lot more animated. “No, I’m – we’re – immensely grateful for your offer, and I know Morwenna and Rowella want me to snatch your hand off.”

“You’ve discussed it with them already?”

“Well, after you put Verity onto those restaurant venture people, I guessed what you might be going to offer us when you said you had something…and your Aunt tipped us off a bit.” George bit back a sigh. He loved Aunt Joan, but sometimes she could be as frustrating as Uncle Cary. By all rights, they should get along better, considering how much they loved to interfere in his life.

“But you have reservations?”

“Yes…” She stepped back slightly, glancing down as she trailed her hand over the surface of the bench. “Not because I don’t think it’s a wonderful plan, and not because I don’t think it’s incredibly kind of you to offer, but because – Well, you know what they say about mixing business with pleasure.”

“Wh – what?” George had to put his slightly rude response down to complete confusion at what she’d said. Having gone to the back of the room, Elizabeth returned with one of the shop’s golden boxes in her hands; a long, thin one. Standing in front of him again, she bit her lip – a gesture George struggled to tear his eyes away from – and flipped open the lid. Spelled out with individual letters on two rows of chocolates was a message: Be My Valentine.

“I mean – I don’t know how much more obvious I can be. The first day you walked in the shop, I asked if you were married; the next time, I asked for your number. Then, I invited you to a party, and gave you a present, and my number. I did my best to impress your Aunt, and I texted you for weeks, and now I’ve invited you here to see me, alone, at night and….Oh. You were expecting the girls to be here as well, weren’t you?” She pressed the box shut, suddenly looking distraught. “You’ve just been being polite this whole time, haven’t you? And now I’ve gone and made a complete fool of myself and I’m sure you’ll never want to give us the investment now – “

George leant forward and stopped up her tirade with a kiss, not caring that he crushed the box of chocolates between them. Elizabeth hesitated for a moment before wrapping her free hand around his neck and kissing him back. When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily.

“What you said before – about business and pleasure – “

“Oh,” Elizabeth shook her head. “Whoever said that was an idiot. Besides, no matter how much I fancy you, Rowella would kill me if I turned you down. And Morwenna would help.”

Before he could reply, she threw the now hopelessly squashed box aside and wrapped both her arms around his neck, kissing him again.

She tasted like chocolate.  

[suga-angel]

A Crossroad Deal (6)

Summary: After getting out of a long term relationship, you try to move on with your life. However, having spent the last three years unavailable, you are not sure you know how to get back out there again, let alone if you even want to. That is, until you meet Jeon Jungkook, the barista at your college coffee shop. He is more than happy to help you wet your toes in the dating scene again, but at what cost?

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming Soon)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: A little of everything

Word Count: 5k

College!Jungkook, somewhat FuckBoy!Jungkook

A/N: Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy!

Chop chop chop.

The sharpened metal sliced through its target with mastered ease. Every slice produced was cut with nearly impossible uniformity, with only the bare minimal going to waste. With each downwards glide of the knife, sharp aromas burst into the air, stimulating the senses. The smell alone encouraged the blade to move faster to the point that it waltzed along its wooden dance floor in a blur of vibrant red, green, and sterling silver. The experience was mesmerizing in itself; the outcome all the greater.

“Look at them.” A nearby voice sneered, judgment rolling from it in waves. The sound drew your thoughts away from your task long enough for your concentration to slip. The knife you had been skillfully wielding to chop up the peppers missed its target and instead kissed the side of your finger. A sharp hiss passed your lips from the sting, but your roommate continued to glare into the living room ignorantly. “Longing around the living room with a beer in hand while us women slave away in the kitchen. What are we, freakin’ house wives?”

“Yes,” You spat with as little condescension as could be managed while using your other hand to rummage through the junk drawer blindly for the bandage box. “Because the division of labor between us two women is split so evenly.”

“What?” She had the nerve to raise the pitch of her voice as she averted her gaze away from the boys. “I’ve helped!”

Using your teeth you tore at the bandage wrapping, all while leveling Minjin with an even stare. “Namjoon has been more of a help and his only job is to not break anything.”

“And a wonderful job I’ve been doing.” Namjoon sauntered in, raising his beer in a silent cheer. “Plus, me and Minho hyung carried everything up here and set up the living room while somebody fussed about their make-up.”

Your roommate’s cheeks tinged pink. “He was early! I had to hurry and get ready!”

“Actually, I was on time.” A pair of arms slithered around the woman’s waist from behind, eliciting a small yelp from her. “You were running late.”

“Again.” Namjoon accentuated your guest’s statement while sipping at his bear. “Plus, how long have you two been together? Does it even matter if he sees you without make up anymore?”

The couple both responded in contradicting fashions, much to your amusement. However, with a quick glance at the time, it faded quickly. With new fervor, you quickly went back to preparing your concoction. “Two minutes ‘til game time guys.”

That quickly woke everyone up. Namjoon sat down his beer and stepped up. “Okay, less than a hundred and twenty seconds on the clock guys. Y/N, finish up your salsa and cheese dip, hyung, check the bean dip in the oven, Minjin, grab the alcohol and shot classes, I’ll get the sliders and hot dogs, meet in the living room in sixty seconds. Break!”

With a clap of the hands, the kitchen broke out into frenzy. Right off the bat Namjoon started moving before the play was called, starting the desperate college students off badly with a false start.  The game then picked up with Minjin racing to the liquor cabinets only to be blocked by Minho approaching from her left. Meanwhile, Namjoon scrambled around them and headed for his target. Entrees in hand, he set his eyes on the end zone. However, first step in that direction and he’s fumbling the play. He frantically let out a desperate cry as he lunged to reclaim it, but Minho stealthily intercepts it.

“Check the bean dip!” he shouted over his shoulder as he scrambles around Minjin, who was struggling with her position as drink handler. To his right, you did your best to pull a hail Mary with your concoctions in the middle of this broken play.

“Done!” Namjoon let out a victorious shout as he reached in the oven bare handed to pull out the dip. Spotting her teammates error in judgment, Minjin cried out towards him but it is too late. With an anguish filled yelp, Namjoon stumbled back, cradling his burnt hand to his chest.

“Oppa, get to the living room, I got this!” you ordered to Minho, piling your prized recipes in your injured roommates arms before shoving him towards the end zone. “Go, go, go!”

His injury quickly forgotten, he hugged the bowls in his arms and rans down the field. You’re just about to get back to your task when you spot it; Minjin forgot the packet of shot glasses. “Oppa! Heads up!” You tossed the package to Minho, affectively passing them into the end zone. All that is left now is the dip.

“Y/N, hurry, the games about to start!” Minjin warned as she hurries to tear open the package Minho passed to her.

“Ten seconds!” Namjoon added, checking the time on his phone.

With speed you did not know you possessed, you shoved on the oven mitts and dived in to pull out the dip before making a sharp one eighty-degree turn and rushed for the final touchdown.

Ten feet…

Six feet…

Two and a Half…

Two…

One and three-quarters…

With an ear busting cheer from your teammates, you dove for the spot between Minjin and Namjoon backside first just in time to see the kick-off.

Minjin leans away from you with a small yelp. “Watch where you’re swinging that. I don’t want to end up like Joonie.”

“Joonie did that to himself,” you defended, setting the dip on the small section of empty space in the vast feast before you. Someone had managed to add small packaged pastries to the assortment without you realizing it. You were entirely grateful for it too. “Anyways, is it going to be me and Namjoon for the home team?”

“Hey!” Minjin protested, sitting up straight with a scowl. “Why do I have to play for the enemy?”

From behind her Minho watched his lover argue with a fond smile forming in the corner of his lips, as if he truly found even her disgust to be associated with his school team to be cute. It was not something you could quite wrap your head around.  

“Because you’re dating the enemy.” Your teammate remarked as he readied two shot glasses. “Sorry hyung.”

Being acknowledged snapped Minho out of whatever daze he had fallen into. His once love-sick smile was now replaced with a grin filled with mischief. “Where is your sense of loyalty to the love of your life, babe?”

She pursed her lips. “Fine. But only because our school teams sucks anyways.”

“Ha!” you exclaimed, moving to sit at the edge of your seat as your favorite defender sacked the opposing team. The impact was so forceful you couldn’t help but wince a bit in sympathy for the victim. Nonetheless, you didn’t let it deter you from thrusting the liquid punishment towards your roommate. “Karmas a bitch. Now drink up traitor.”

She accepted the shot glass with a scowl. “Competitions is ugly on you, you know.”

“That’s not very fair,” Minho defended, downing his shot in a quick tilt of his head. “I think it just brings out her inner colors.”

“More like her inner ugly.” Your roommate grumbled around the shot glass before downing it in much the same fashion as her teammate. With a small grimace she slammed the glass back down on the table. “Fill it up, slut. The next round will be for your losing ass.”

“Aren’t men supposed to be the overly competitive sex?” Namjoon inquired from beside you. His eyes drifted from between you and Minjin with half a smile starting to form on his perplexed face.

Minjin sneered. “That’s sexist.”

“Keep it up, Joonie.” Your eyes never left the screen as you spoke. “Keep goading her, we’ll have this game in the bag.”

That got her attention. “Hey, you still have to take a drink whether or not we spot it or not.”

You shook your head as you spoke. “If a tree farts and no one is around to hear it, does it leave a smell? No. And since no one smelt it, it’s like no one dealt it. Therefore, I don’t have to drink.”

The room fell into a silence as all eyes turned in your direction. Some, like Minjin, didn’t seem like she knew if she wanted to argue with your reasoning or give it to you for your creativity. Others, such as the male population, looked as if they had bitten into a lemon.

“That’s not how that saying goes,” Namjoon finally spoke up, looking you up and down with a slightly scrunched up nose.

“And I’m pretty sure what you’re talking about is cheating.” The older man added, a smile starting to tug at his lips despite himself.

“Honey, honey.” Minjin interjected, patting her boyfriend’s knee gently. “Give her that one, she earned it.”

Raising your bottle of beer in the air, you tilted it in her direction. “Damn straight I did.”

“Plus,” A small smirk formed on the other woman’s face. “By her own reasoning, we don’t have to take a shot for that penalty.”

“What?” Your head snapped in the direction of the screen just in time to see the referee calling the move. “Bullshit, take your drink you hoe!”

The bickering that followed would be one of many that would break out in the following hours. Sometime between the argument of what is considered a victory dance and the chip incident where Namjoon somehow managed to trip over the table at just the right angle to send the chip bowl flying back into the room it came from, the snacks that were once in plenty of supply had dried up to a few bits and pieces scattered between wrappers and used up napkins. By the time halftime came around, there was only breadcrumbs and what was left of the liquor standing proudly upon the ravaged table.

“Wow.” Minjin eyed the disaster that laid before her with wide eyes. “We’re pigs.”

“Excuse me?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow at his roommate. “This was all you two. I barely got one chip in before they were all gone.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t of kicked the chips off to Neverland you would’ve gotten some.” She countered, tilting her head towards the kitchen. Off in the distance the once clean floor was now a graveyard for the forgotten sliced potatoes who were whisked away before they could’ve fulfilled their crunchy destiny. Now they lay crumbled and defeated on the tile flooring, abandoned by their owner but never forgotten. The reminder pulled a hearty sigh from you as you looked on at the tragic sight.

“Speaking of which…” Oppa spoke up, glancing in the same direction as you. “Are we really not going to go pick that up?”

“Leave it.” Gloom took root in your voice as you spoke. “They are a reminder of what was lost.”

“Hyung is right, we’re going to get ants.”

The doubt was clear in the look you shot him. “We’re on the second floor.”

He merely gave a shrug. “Bugs don’t discriminate.”

“I don’t do bugs.” With a small shiver, Minjin stood up. “You guys clean that up, I’m heading to the market to grab a few snacks for the rest of the game.”

Minho perked up at the mention of food. “Oh, get those cute sugar cookies while you’re out. You know, with the sprinkles.”

That got Namjoon’s attention. “Oh, and those gummies. The one’s shaped like the Minions, not those fake Ninja Turtle shits they sell.”

A smirk slowly formed as she leaned down to grab her purse. “I’m dating a child.”

“Hey, we’re manly.” The offense that took form in the older mans tone was matched by the slight puffing of his chest.

Your roommate nodded in agreement. “Our manliness is so great we’re not even threatened by your attempt to emasculate us.” Despite his noble words, you didn’t miss the way his muscles flexed against the fabric of his sleeves.

“Right. My mistake.” Her teeth flashed the group as her lips spread out into a brilliant smile. “I’ll be back in ten.”

“Don’t forget my cookies!” Minho called after her.

“And chips!” You added hastily after glancing at the graveyard once more.

With a roll of her eyes, she said her final goodbye before closing the door after her. Minho stared after her for a few moments, seeming to be counting down to something in his head. Soon after he sat up straighter, turning his full attention to the remaining of the group. “I need to talk to you guys.”

His statement caught you as you were scooping the remaining fudge that clung to the pastry wrapper with your finger. The delectable chocolate had barely passed your lips when he had turned in your direction. With the wide eyes of someone who had been caught in the act, you reply with an startled, “What?”

The older graduate paid you no mind, already used to your shameless behavior. “Our anniversary is coming up. Mine and MinMin’s.”

Joonie visibly cringed from the nickname. “We’re very much aware.”

“Yeah, well I want to make it special.” Minho continued on. “And as you know, your apartment is the first place we met…”

This time it was your turn to scrunch up your face. “Please, we are all very much aware of your rom-com worthy love story.”

Namjoon nodded vigorously. “Painfully so.”

Minho had the decency to smile sheepishly. “Well, I was thinking I could re-enact it here. You know, buy her favorite pizza, put on my old uniform, come and surprise her with dinner and a bunch of other cheesy memory lane stuff. But it would kind of be ruined if her two roommates were in the apartment to reminisce with us…”

You blinked a couple of times. “He’s trying to kick us out of our apartment.”

“Minjin would love that though.” To your horror, you noticed the smile that was forming on your friend’s face. “You know how into that cringy romantic shit she is.”

“But…” you stammered, buying yourself time to think up an excuse. “But where would I go?”

“You’d be more than welcome to stay at my place.” Minho offered helpfully, blinding you with his annoyingly hopeful smile.

It did nothing to stop the taste of bile that rose to your throat. “With Jinho? Yeah, that definitely isn’t going to happen.”

Namjoon shrugged. “I’m going to go stay with Hoseok, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“I can hear Yoongi oppa complaining now.” Just one look at the doe eyed man in front of you had a sigh being extracted from you. “Fine, I’ll brave Jihyun’s couch.”

Before you could comprehend what was happened, a pair of strong arms was encircling you in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

A chuckle escaped your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, well, you guys are too cute to stand in your way anyways.”

“Sickeningly so.” A smile broke on Namjoon’s lips at his words.

Minho’s grin lit up his face. “Really, thank you. Minjin will love it. I just know it.”

“Just don’t love it on any surface that is communal.” Namjoon’s nose crinkled as he spoke. Your head quickly nodded along with his statement. No one wanted to relive what happened last time the lovebirds had the apartment to themselves. Some thing could not be unseen.

He older man ducked his head with a sheepish grin. “Will do.”

“Well, we might as well get to cleaning up the kitchen,” you stated grimly. “Minjin will not let us live it down if she finds a bug in the apartment.”

“Nose goes!” Minho had his finger flying to the tip of his nose before the words even passed his lips. You were quick to follow fashion, staring wide eyed at the bewildered graduate beside you.

“How old are you two again?”

“Old enough to know that this,” Minho motioned with his free hand between yourself and Min-ho while his finger remained attached to his nose, “means that we don’t have to do shit.”

A victorious grin split your cheeks. “So get to work, you slow fucker.”

With a smug sense of pleasure, you watched your grumbling friend stand to his feet and make his way to clean up his disaster. Beside you, Minho gave a good-natured chuckle as he started to pick up some of the wrappers that had been carelessly thrown around the room. You bend over to help him out when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

Must be Jihyun, you thought as you pull out your phone. Your obnoxious friend had been upset all week about not being able to make the traditional game day drinking game today. You wouldn’t put it past her to bitch about it some more over texts. To your surprise though, it was not Jihyun who had messaged you.

Mickey: Come over [2:47p.m.]

Mickey: Plz? [2:47p.m.]

Mickey: I’m sick of studying [2:48p.m.]

Mickey: I have pizza? [2:49p.m.]

The corners of your mouth tugged upwards as your eyes scanned your screen. Within seconds, your fingers were flying across your keyboard.

You: Pineapple? [2:50p.m.]

Mickey: Duh. [2:51p.m.]

Mickey: U in? [2:51p.m.]

Your index finger tapped against the side of your phone as you glanced up at your surroundings. If you were being honest, the game thus far had left your head a little more tipsy than you would like to admit. It would probably be a bad idea to go anywhere at this point. Plus, you and Namjoon were sure to win this time. You couldn’t call it quits now. And anyways, the other boy really had some studying to get done if he hoped to pass his class.

You: Save me some, I’ll stop by tomorrow [2:55p.m.]

With your mind made up, you set your phone on the table to get back to cleaning up. Tomorrow you’d have to put up with his complaints but it was for his own good. To your surprise, your phone vibrated not long after.

Mickey: Fine, but only a slice of the cheese one [2:58p.m.]

Mickey: Late comers don’t deserve pineapple [2:59p.m.]

A head suddenly appeared over your shoulder. “What are you smiling at?” The sound of his voice startled you enough to look up from your phone. Quickly, you pressed the power button to shut down your screen, but it was too late; a smirk was already forming on the older man’s lips. “Mickey? Is that the guy Minmin was telling me about?”

Your shoulder lifted in a careless shrug as you pocketed your phone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” The tone of his voice portrayed his true thoughts on the matter. “Is he who you’ve been sneaking out at night to go see the past few weeks?”

“I’m a grown ass women and this is my damn apartment, I do not have to sneak out of it.” You huff indignantly; making sure your voice was low enough so that it couldn’t be heard from the kitchen. “And anyways, why is your girlfriend gossiping about me?”

“She’s excited.” He stated simply. “She says it’s about time you got out of your dry spell.”

A red tinge settled on the apples of your cheeks. “I am not going through a dry spell!” You hissed desperately under your breath.

Minho raised his trash filled hands in surrender. “Hey, I don’t judge.”

“There’s nothing to judge!”

“What are we judging?” Namjoon questioned, walking back into the room. Traces of the chip disaster were evident on his socked feet. You jumped at the opportunity given to you.

“The fact that you’re trailing crumbs all over the floor with your dirty socks.” You jabbed a finger in the offending party’s direction, affectively drawing everyone’s attention towards them. “Minjin will throw a bitch fit if she comes back to see that.”

“At least I’ve been cleaning, what have you two been doing?” Even though his voice was laced with indignation, he toed at his socks to rid them of any evidence.

“Cleaning up after your ass, like usual.” You quickly interjected when you spotted Minho opening his mouth to reply. “You two boys are slobs, honestly.”

There it was, the perfect thing to distract both of your possible attackers. Both of their attentions were instantly focused on you in different stages of offense. Minho was the first to object.

“Did she just speak to me informally?”

“You and Minjin are the one’s who destroy the apartment!” Namjoon soon followed with.

“Excuse me?” At that instance, the sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the room. Standing in the doorway was Minjin, her arms being loaded with various bags of groceries. It was clear she was implementing her one trip only policy by how her arms were being weighed down with more bags than she could comfortably carry, but she seemed to have forgotten all about them as she set a deadly glare on your roommate. “You want to pass that by me again Namjoon, you clumsy shit?”

As expected, the apartment was soon filled with various forms of blame aversion and cases made in defense. It did not take long for your nightly where about and mysterious messenger to easily fall from everyone’s memory.

“Order up!”

The sharp ringing of the bell attempted to cut through the rambunctious chatter of the rush hour crowd. Despite its obnoxious pitch and quick, incessant rhythm, none of the buzzing customers seemed to take much notice to it; instead, they continued their conversations eagerly, paying no attention to the steaming barista behind the counter. The poor boy could not be older than sixteen, but the irritation that was coming off of him in waves said that if he was kept waiting much longer, he would lose it. Right when you were certain that his grip on the caffeinated drink would certainly crush the cup in his grasps, a customer lazily strolled up to the counter to claim the beverage from its tragic fate. With more force than was needed, the teenager shoved the drink into the college student’s hand, walking away with no more than a glare in the customer’s direction.

Part of you felt bad for the poor barista as you watched him prepare the next order over the view of your coffee cup. If you were being honest, the customers were grating on your own nerves with their excessive volume. There was absolutely no need to be talking that enthusiastically in such small quarters as the café. However, you found that the levels of your annoyance were steadily lowering with each sip of your drink that you took. So instead of dwelling on the repercussions of flinging the muffin you bought Jihyun at a neighboring group of girls’ (who obviously weren’t taught about inside voices), you took a deep breath and continued to watch the aggravated barista lose his temper over the espresso maker.  

The only thing that brought your attention away from the oncoming tantrum was the vibration of your phone. The suddenness of it had you jumping a bit in your seat, causing a bit of coffee to dribble down your chin. With a quick swipe of the back of your hand, you pulled out the offending party with your free hand to check the screen.

Mickey: remind me again [7:12p.m.]

Mickey: why am I here? [7:12p.m.]

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you read over the messages. Leave it to him to be so dramatic over something so routine.

You: I ask myself that question about you everyday, honestly [7:14p.m.]

You: I mean, do we really need another shameless flirt on this earth? [7:14p.m.]

You: seems a bit last season, don’t you think? [7:15p.m.]

You typed out your message single handedly, using your other one to bring your warm coffee to your lips. You didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

Mickey: We all know what my purpose on this earth is, sweetcheeks {7:18p.m.]

Mickey: I am a gift to women everywhere. [7:19p.m.]

An involuntary snort came of you. You could just feel the smugness rolling off of him through the phone. He needed to be knocked down a few pegs. Squaring your shoulders a bit, you set your cup down on the table so that you could turn your complete attention to your phone.

You: More like punishment. [7:22 p.m.]

Mickey: You seem tense, baby girl [7:24 p.m.]

Mickey: Bet I could make you feel better with just one touch ;) [7:25 p.m.]

Heat rose to the apple of your cheeks despite yourself. You convinced yourself it was from the stuffiness of the room, not from your own imagination of course.

You: Case and point [7:29 p.m.]

You: You’re shameless [7:30 p.m.]

Mickey: It’s a gift really [7:36 p.m.]

“What are you smiling at?” Your co-worker sat across from you suddenly, eyeing you almost distastefully. “You look like you’re about to giggle and puke rainbows or something. It’s gross.”

It was only then that you noticed the way your lips split into an involuntary smile. You quickly wiped it from your face, replacing it with a scowl. “Shut up. You’re late.”

She sighed bristly at that, taking the extra cup of coffee and muffin from you. “Yeah, well, not all of us were able to get off early, Miss Over Achiever. God, I almost miss when you were in your slum so that we were failures together. Now you’re back to being ahead of schedule and responsible and shit.”

You couldn’t help the small tug of your lips. “Yeah well, you owe this over achiever ten bucks. The coffee and muffin aren’t free.”

In that moment, you felt your phone vibrate in your hand again.

Mickey: Come baaaack [7:47p.m.]

Mickey: I’m about to die from boredom in this class [7:47 p.m.]

You: Suck it up, frat boy [7:49 p.m.]

You: It’s called getting an education [7:50 p.m.]

“Whatever,” she grumbled around her muffin. “Anyways, who are you texting? Is it Jimin again?”

“Becoming possessive already?” you teased, smirking around your cup of coffee. “How un-Jihyun like.”

The woman across from you merely stuffs another large chunk of muffin into her mouth. “You two text constantly. And plot. I know he didn’t come up with the idea to send me those singing telegrams on his own, asshole.”

“That was actually his idea. The boy is committed.”

A rather un-ladylike like snort escaped her. “Jimin doesn’t have a committed bone in his body.”

From the corner of your eye you saw your phone light up with a notification. “What about that proposition he made you?”

Mickey: It’s called a snooze fest [8:04 p.m.]

Mickey: Anyways, what kind of lame activity are you up to? [8:05 p.m.]

Mickey: Wait, let me guess [8:06 p.m.]

Mickey: Watching descendants of the sun [8:07 p.m.]

Mickey: Again. [8:07]

“Fine, the only commitment he has is to his dick.” The harshness of her words has you pulling your gaze from your screen. “I mean, when was the last time an arrangement like that ever worked out, anyways? It’s stupid.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so.” You gave a shrug at the doubtful look she shot you. “I mean, he’s attractive. From what you said he knows what he’s doing. What could it hurt?”

“Please.” The tone of her voice was if she was explaining the obvious. “Men are fragile little things, Y/N. They have too many grown up feelings for their small testosterone brains to take. Things never stay as simple as they say they will.”

The corner of your lips twitched as you averted your attention back to your screen. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how that stereotype is applied.”

You: you’re offensive tone is ruining the taste of my muffin [8:12 p.m.]

“That’s because men tried to cover up for their neediness by putting it on us. It’s a big cover up, I tell you.” If it weren’t for the fact that you weren’t entirely convinced she wasn’t being serious, you would find her conspiracy theories somewhat comical. It was Jihyun, after all.

“I’m sure it is.” Setting your phone aside for the last time, you turn your full attention back to your coworker. “Anyways, I need a favor.”

Jihyun tilted her head to the side as she studied you. “Waive the ten bucks for this stuff and you got it.”

“What?” You blinked a couple of times. “Fuck that bitch, pay up.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“You don’t even know what it is!” Your voice started to rise as you spoke, but you paid it no mind. If everyone else can be noisy in this shack so could you.

She gave a short sigh. “Fine, what is it?”

“I need to borrow your couch this coming Saturday.” Sensing the argument rising in her, you added more hastily, “Minho is pulling some grand romantic gesture for their anniversary and is kicking me and Namjoon out.”

“Couples. I swear, they’re so entitled.” The last bit of muffin she was holding was quickly flung onto her napkin in disgust. “I would revolt. You pay rent, you have rights.”

“Jihyun.” The tone of your voice was fighting between amusement and exasperation. “Your bitch is showing.”

You watched as your friend proceeded to dump enough sugar to create a small tower into her drink, unbothered by your words. “Good. Let the bitch flag fly, she needed some air after being suffocated under all that sugarcoated pleasantry bullshits.”

“Just play nice, Minho is being a gentleman. It’s sweet and romantic.”

“Sweet my ass,” the woman across from you grumbles, reaching to a neighboring table beside you to grab the sugar packets as she had used up all of your own. The couple sitting there shot her judgmental glares, but if she noticed it she made no sign of it. “Anyways, you can’t spend the night. My brothers coming to town and is occupying the couch this weekend.”

An obnoxious groan was born in your throat, drawing a few startled glances your way. “Where the fuck am I supposed to go now?”

“I’m telling you, you have rights.” Her eyes glanced up at you from her coffee cup. The White Mountain had nearly doubled in size, but she showed no sign of stopping. “Fuck the system, fight the couples.”

“I prefer fuck the couples, fight the system,” a deeper voice interjected. The screeching of chair legs against the laminate floor soon followed as your uninvited guest made himself at home at the table, his cheeky smile being full of insinuations. “It opens a lot more interesting doors that way.”

Your coworker’s faced screwed up in disgust. “Is everyone in your fraternity as perverse as you and the duo?”

“No… but they’re not nearly as much fun either.” Jungkook replied with his signature smirk before turning to face you. “And you, do you not know how to answer your phone?”

“I didn’t know you texted.” As you spoke, you reached back over for your phone, thumbing over the main key to bring the phone to life. Your eyes widened a bit when you spotted how many missed texts you had. Quickly, you tried to shut off your screen again but it was too late.

“Mickey?” Jungkook reached out and plucked your phone out of your hands indignantly. “Who the fuck is Mickey? And why is your phone password protected?”

“It’s Jimin.”  Jihyun piped up, stirring the white grains into her coffee. “I don’t know why she calls him Mickey though.”

“Is that a codename? Jimin has a codename and I don’t?” The look of betrayal that washed over Jungkook’s face was more than unjustified in your opinion.

“It is none of your business who it is.” Huffing, you reached out and snatched your phone out of the younger boy’s grasps. “And my phone is password protected because of nosy people like you trying to get on and snoop.”

“Whatever.” With a small shrug, he tore off a piece of your muffin. He eyed the crowded café as he pushed the moist pastry past his lips. His eyes zeroed in on the barista behind the counter. “It’s busy at this time. Poor sap.”

“You could always offer to help him,” you offer, unbothered by the theft as you take a sip of your drink. “You know, be a good coworker and all that stuff.”

“Fuck that shit.” Jihyun eyes the barista. Despite her harsh words, there were traces of sympathy in her voice. “Jungkook’s off. Let the kid sweat.”

The younger man leaned back in his chair with a broad grin. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

Shaking your head, you cracked a smile at them around the rim of your cup. “You two are despicable.”

“Thank you.” They both spoke in unison, drawing a chuckle from you.

“Anyways, I just stopped by for some muffin.” He leaned over to grab another rather sizable piece of your muffin as he got to his feet. When he spoke, it was around a mouthful of bread. “I have another class I need to get to.”

“You better hurry,” you comment, glancing at the time on your phone. “You have three minutes before your class starts.”

“Shit.” With quick drink from your cup, he dashed out of the café, calling back a greeting of some kind as he clumsily ran into a group of unsuspecting customers on his way out. The absurdness of it drew a chuckle from your lips as you brought your cup up for another drink.

“You know…” Jihyun began, watching after his retreating form through glass window. “He’s not at all what I expected.”

A more natural smile tugged at your lips. “Believe me, I know.”

Once again you heard more than felt your phone buzz against the wooden table. Glancing down at it, you noticed you had quite a bit of missed messages. Scanning over them, you zeroed in on the newest one.

Mickey: Stop by my place later? [8:29p.m.]

Under the watchful eye of your friend, you didn’t care let your lips stretch anymore than they were already. However, you could not help the burst of joy you felt as you quickly typed out your response.

You: Always do. [8:30p.m.]

A/N: I am so so sorry that this took so long! Uni has been crazy. Anyways, I apologize if I completely butchered the sports terminologies in the beginning of the chapter. I know close to nothing about sports and I don’t think the hours of research I tried to do on football really fixed that... Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you though =)

[newstfionline]

Baghdad gets its groove back

By Liz Sly, Washington Post, Aug. 23, 2018

It’s nearing midnight on a Thursday and the streets are jammed with traffic. There are people heading home after dinner with family and friends, and people for whom the night has just begun.

At the newly opened Ibrahim Basha club, the party is just getting going. A Syrian singer with waist-length blond hair and sky-high pink heels is singing Arabic hits, accompanied by a talented Iraqi musician alternately playing the saxophone, the piano and the oud. When she breaks into old Iraqi favorites, the mostly male customers sitting at tables strewn with whiskey bottles get up and dance dabka, the traditional Arabic style that involves crescendos of rhythmic stomping.

Fifteen years after the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq plunged the country into a cycle of insurgency, dysfunction and war, Baghdad is undergoing a renaissance of sorts.

The insurgency still simmers and the dysfunction is as pronounced as ever. Iraqis angry at their leaders’ corruption and failure to deliver basic necessities such as electricity and water have spent the summer protesting in many parts of the country. There is little in the way of optimism among the wearied residents of a war-weary city that has been crushed too many times in the past to dare hope for a brighter future.

But for the first time in as long as anyone can remember, at least Baghdad isn’t at war. Although there are still explosions, and kidnappings are a problem, the relentless suicide bombings that deterred all but the hardiest revelers have abated since the territorial defeat of the Islamic State last year.

And the city is starting to breathe a little easier.

A more relaxed approach from lawmakers has allowed entertainment to flourish. A measure banning alcohol was voted down last year.

Cafes, clubs and bars are proliferating. There are shopping malls with cinemas showing the latest releases, including a glitzy glass enormity with a Dubai-style helicopter pad on the roof. There are restaurants on the river and plays at the theater and comedy nights at the coffeehouses.

On Fridays, poets recite their works and artists show off their paintings in the Ottoman-era gardens surrounding Mutanabbi Street, named for a 10th-century Iraqi poet who lived when Baghdad was at the epicenter of the civilized world.

The city still has a long way to go if it is to reclaim its past glories as a capital of culture and entertainment, Iraqis say. But there’s a widespread consensus that at no time in the past 40 years, since Saddam Hussein acquired absolute power and led Iraq into a series of ruinous wars, has Baghdad been as free and as fun as it is now.

“Every Iraqi has reached the conclusion that it is important to have as much fun as you can before you die,” said Alaa Kahtan, a theater director who had come to Coffee and Books, one of Baghdad’s hip new cafes that attracts a mostly literary crowd.

The absence of bombings is not the only reason for the new sense of freedom, Kahtan said. The Shiite militias and their associated political parties, which surged to prominence in the wake of the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq in 2003, are now more powerful than ever. They won big in the elections this spring and are set to play a leading role in whatever government emerges.

Their ascent, however, has also propelled the militias away from the petty intrusions into people’s lives that once characterized their attempts to assert authority, such as forcing women to cover their hair and blowing up liquor stores. A move to ban alcohol by the Shiite religious parties that dominate parliament was voted down last year.

“The militias have left these things behind and have ambitions to a bigger role. They don’t care what you wear or if you drink alcohol,” Kahtan said. “I feel more free in my theater, more free in my passions. I have a girlfriend, and I can hug her in the street.”

There is no guarantee the current mood will last, said novelist Ahmed Saadawi, who was sitting at a nearby table discussing a cover for the next edition of his book “Frankenstein in Baghdad.”

“All this could be reversed by the politicians, who have shown their foolishness time and again,” he said. “But we hope they have learned from the tragedies that went before, because neither Sunnis nor Shiites nor Kurds have the energy for another conflict.”

He credits ordinary Iraqis and their zest for life, rather than the inept government, for the new spirit. The surge of sectarianism that followed the 2003 invasion, when Sunnis and Shiites sought refuge in their religious identities and set about slaughtering one another, was an aberration, and Iraqis are reverting to their true selves, he said.

“There is something about the Iraqi character that dates back thousands of years,” he said, noting that historians credit Iraq with the invention of liquor some 7,000 years ago. “It is rooted in the Iraqi culture to have fun. Iraqis aren’t spiritual. They like to party.”

Some of the partying has a distinctly sordid air. The clubs lining Abu Nawas Street, which runs along the Tigris River across from the heavily fortified Green Zone--and is named for a beloved Iraqi poet who lived in the 8th century and wrote about wine and sex--are strictly men-only. Men pay steep prices to drink alcohol in the company of hostesses, and female customers aren’t allowed.

One of the somewhat more exclusive locales is the recently reopened bar on the rooftop of the Palestine Hotel, once a hangout for Baathist officials and now frequented by members of Iraq’s new elite. They pay $100 for bottles of whiskey and can choose company for the night from among the heavily made-up young women seated around the bar.

A doctor nursing a beer alone in one of the cushioned booths confided that he didn’t like the place but said there aren’t many better alternatives to grab a drink.

Many women are benefiting from the more liberal environment, too. Though most of the clientele at the Ibrahim Basha club were men, a middle-aged couple sat smoking shisha pipes and a family including women and children clapped to the music.

At the upscale Shawarma restaurant earlier that night, an Iraqi singer entertained a majority-female crowd, some wearing headscarves, some not, some in all-women groups. They tapped their feet and wiggled their shoulders and looked like they wanted to get up and dance, but didn’t.

Most Iraqis don’t drink, and it is cafes, where women can go out alone and freely mix with men, that have become the social focus. Until a few years ago, the dangers on the streets deterred families from allowing their daughters to go out alone, said Mariam Sultan, 24, who has a master’s degree in medical chemistry and works in a lab. She had come with a group of girlfriends to the Faisaliyah cafe, which opened last year and draws a mixed crowd with its comedy nights and live rock bands.

“People have become much more free in their attitudes,” she said.

For people who can’t afford cafes or bars, the Jadriyah bridge over the Tigris River serves as a sort of impromptu party venue. Typically, they come with cans of beer, turn on their car radios, and sometimes there is dancing.

The bridge is said to be the coolest spot in Baghdad because of the breeze that wafts down the river, and families come, too, especially in the summer when temperatures top 100 degrees even in the middle of the night.

“It’s too hot at home, so we come here, because there are lots of people and we can relax,” said Imad Salman, 50, who was standing on the bridge with his wife and three children. Thursday night had become Friday morning, a bit before 2 a.m.

Starting in mid-July, police have sought to stamp out alcohol consumption in the open air, and the bridge has become a target. As Salman spoke, a police patrol arrived. “Run, run, the police are coming,” someone shouted farther down the bridge. Everyone jumped into their cars and sped away.

Half an hour later, they were back. The police came back, too, and the people scattered again.

It was close to 3 a.m. and time for us to call it a night.

[thethespacecoyote]

“Don’t Wish Me a Merry Christmas”

She and Jack almost never got presents for each other around Christmas, and if they did they were usually given with little if any mention of the holiday. Jack usually forgot to wrap his, and Nisha often just tossed it into a bag left over from past gifts. But when Rhys used Jack’s credit card and bought a tree that almost touched the top of the penthouse and proceeded to spend two hours decorating it with Angel, she knew that anything half-assed wouldn’t fly. And as much as Rhys’ Christmas shit annoyed her, she didn’t want to see the kid disappointed. It was like watching an abused kitty commercial. Nisha had a tough skin but even she wasn’t that cold-hearted.

So it was for Rhys’ sake—cute little festive parasite that he was—that she was braving the pinstriped den of horror itself. The mall, one week before Christmas Eve.

First day of Requestmas done! For the lovely @dauverney who had an idea about Nisha hating Christmas, but reluctantly braving it to go and buy some gifts for her boys :) Just some modern AU fluff with Rhackisha and some bonus Angel too.

Nisha hated Christmas.

Most people were surprised when they heard that. She got a lot of “but everyone likes Christmas!” or “Jeez, what did Christmas ever do to you?” from astonished wannabe well-wishers. Lately she’d taken to telling people her dog died the morning of, or if they were especially annoying she’d upgrade the death from a car accident to a drunken Santa on a rampage. Tragedy tended to make people back off and feel embarrassed they’d ever asked.

So Yeah. Christmas. Nisha. Mixed about as well as hot chocolate and motor oil. 

Though the deluge of holiday crap pissed her off, up until lately she’d been able to ignore it pretty good through years of practice. Avoid malls and promenades. Order most things online. Stick to the single classic rock radio station in her truck that had yet to betray her strict no-Christmas music ban.

But due to some recent changes she was about ready to bit the head off the next festive fanatic that entered her crosshairs.

Like most things that annoyed her, it all started with Jack. He used to dislike Christmas right alongside her. A regular Scrooge she could commiserate with, who would groan and roll his eyes whenever one of the thousands of holiday standards infected even quasi-neutral zones like liquor stores or the DMV. They spent nights others might waste going caroling or decorating cookies instead drinking beer and having rough, secular sex. Their apartment stayed its sleek color palette of black and white and yellow without a trace of red or green infected its modern chic.

That was, until Rhys had popped into their lives.

Nisha had never been opposed to adding another partner to their duo. A third person had occasionally crossed into their relationship over the years, but usually Jack tired of them within a couple of weeks or the slight edge to the couple’s relationship put them off (and on occasion, sent them running for the door). The option had always been there, but no one had exactly fit the bill, up until a little middle manager in Jack’s company had caught the CEO’s wandering eye. It’d been around Valentines’ Day. Jack had called it fortuitous. Nisha thought he just wanted an extra present. But couple choice flirtations and a handful of dates with Nisha tagging along to make the nature of the relationship blatantly obvious to the dumbstruck young man had soon caught him hook, line and sinker. By June, he’d moved in with them.

Nisha didn’t hate Rhys. Not at all, really. It’d taken some getting used to, the fact that her boyfriend having a boyfriend meant she now had to deal with two, but she liked him. He was slender enough but thick in all the places Nisha liked, and though he was sweet he could give sass right back when Jack was being a little brat about something stupid.

But when Nisha had woken up on the first of November to find that the Halloween decor had been replaced by garlands and holly as the smell of vanilla-peppermint candles filled the air—she’d known there’d be trouble.  

Rhys wasn’t nearly as crazy about Christmas as some of the people Nisha had run into had been, but it was still enough to put her off just a little bit. The month had barely started and he’d already bought matching sweaters for the three of them and even Angel, and had roped Jack into doing such cloyingly festive shit as decorating ornaments, ice skating, and making a gingerbread house. Now thoroughly brainwashed, Jack had even bought Rhys tickets to the frikkin’ ballet so they could sit on their butts for two hours and watch people dance to the same music blared on every single commercial that she had to endure. Mercifully, Angel had had a swim meet that evening, so Nisha had been able to dodge that bullet, though Rhys had ended up humming the melodies in the shower the next morning and even Jack had mumbled along to the tune as he’d made his coffee.

They were so mushy with each other that it was small wonder to Nisha that they didn’t melt. They nuzzled their noses together over peppermint hot chocolate bobbing with snowflake marshmallows, blushing like kids on a cold winter’s day. It was like a fucking Hallmark card and Nisha’s head was practically spinning off her neck at Jack’s sudden holiday whiplash.

She and Jack almost never got presents for each other around Christmas, and if they did they were usually given with little if any mention of the holiday. Jack usually forgot to wrap his, and Nisha often just tossed it into a bag left over from past gifts. But when Rhys used Jack’s credit card and bought a tree that almost touched the top of the penthouse and proceeded to spend two hours decorating it with Angel, she knew that anything half-assed wouldn’t fly. And as much as Rhys’ Christmas shit annoyed her, she didn’t want to see the kid disappointed. It was like watching an abused kitty commercial. Nisha had a tough skin but even she wasn’t that cold-hearted.

So it was for Rhys’ sake—cute little festive parasite that he was—that she was braving the pinstriped den of horror itself. The mall, one week before Christmas Eve.

Jack’s wealth afforded them a nice place to live in a bougie neighborhood full of fancy boutiques, speciality foods, and high-priced knick-knacks, all of which were on full display in the shopping mall nearly the size of a small airport. Thanks to the acres of parking, she managed to find a space to squeeze her maroonn truck in without scraping the paint of the Mercedes Benz on her left.

The sight of so many cars circling the mall like sharks made her queasy. The wreaths hanging from every streetlamp seemed like signs screaming “Turn Back Now!” But the sound of the other car door opening sealed Nisha’s face as Angel popped out, bundled in an oversized cargo jacket with colorful reusable shopping bags already slung over her shoulder.

“You ready?” She piped up as she grabbed Nisha’s hand. The sheriff worried her lip before remembering she’d agreed to let Angel put some lipstick on her before they’d left. She cringed for a moment, then nodded.

“God. All right. Suppose we’re already here.”

Nisha only felt more dread as they walked towards the entrance to the mall, navigating the cars still fishing for a spot. There were already way too many people for her comfort level, most of them either yakking or screeching way too loud or looking like they might snap and kill someone if they didn’t get the latest game system for their warbling crotch spawn. She felt tense, hand Angel was holding jerking almost instinctively to where she usually kept her gun clipped as they entered through the sliding doors into the mall proper.

Naturally, the crowds inside were even worse.

“Oh god damn it, look at this shit,” Nisha groaned as she was hit with not only the sight of hundreds more stressed, obnoxious shoppers, but also an audible wall in the form of some sugar-pop cover of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” A song which, honestly? Kind of felt like an omen at this point.

“Ugh. Fuck me.”

“Dad would be mad if he knew you were swearing in front of me…” Angel said with a giggle.

“Yeah, well Jack can go suck eggs,” Nisha hissed, shaking her head. “It’s all because of him that I gotta do this anyway.”

“Hey c’mon, it’ll be nice. Rhys has been really cool to me this year and I really want to get him something special…” Angel smiled, and damn if the kid didn’t make Nisha melt a little bit. It was kind of why she’d brought her along, anyway. Would probably stop the sheriff from going completely fucking bonkers with the sheer Christmas overload she’d have to endure.

The mall’s main atrium was dominated by the biggest Christmas tree Nisha had ever seen—so big it had to be fake, plastic needles simply perfumed with pine scent—surrounded by boxed presents nearly half the height of the average adult and certainly bigger than most the kids squealing and trundling about. Twinkling lines of crystal and LED draped the trees branches, every inch fat with bight red ornaments bigger than Nisha’s head. Garish signs wished her a Happy Holidays while also advertising expensive Santa photo packages. She was just happy Angel was too old and Jack too cynical to fall for that kind of nonsense.

“So, uh…” The sheriff scratched her head, looking about. “Where do we go?”

Nisha hadn’t heard of half of these boutiques. Most of the clothing outside of her uniform was either old stuff or had been bought by Jack, and while he occasionally spoiled her with a fancy dress or jacket for date nights, typically he just gave her his credit card and told her to get whatever she wanted. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of pants and tops and accessories that, while nice, weren’t as pointlessly expensive as some of this stuff. She already had the status, the symbols were a little superfluous.

But Rhys got a kick out of having access to this fancy stuff he’d never been able to have before. Nisha remembered he almost cried when Jack gifted him a Rolex for his birthday. Kid had been little more than an ordinary Hyperion programmer when Jack had plucked him for his personal harem, and he still got a little starry-eyed in a way Nisha no longer did whenever Jack decided to shower him in designer gifts.

So she ended up following Angel’s more fashion-savvy lead, making sure not to lose the teen in the crowds as they squeezed their way into the mall’s least-busy Hugo Boss. Angel had brought along her own allowance, so Nisha let her buy a couple of pairs of socks for Rhys, which ended up rolled all nicely and packed in a little red box with a bow on top. Her own credit card picked up a navy cashmere scarf and a slim pair of leather gloves that’d look good on the kid’s long fingers.

Angel offered to carry the gives in her patterned cloth bag as they trundled off in the direction of the Crate & Barrel Nisha was sure you could land a plane in.

Jack had been bitching about a stand mixer ever since Rhys had confessed his favorite pie was lemon meringue over Thanksgiving dinner, so Nisha picked out the fancier model in the shiny red chrome and put it on hold so she wouldn’t have to lug the damn thing around all afternoon. The price tag had made her briefly reconsider—taking into account the likelihood that Jack would only use it once—but she pushed that out of her mind. As annoyed as the whole Christmas charade made her feel, there was a prickle of enjoyment deep inside at the idea of buying something she knew Jack had talked about. It made her feel a little sly as she added a maplewood rolling pin and a springform pie dish to her lover’s present haul.

They took a break from the crowds to sit on one of the many benches ringing one of the mall’s many decorative water features. Nisha slipped Angel a ten dollar bill and told her to get a waffle cone from one of the fancy ice cream kiosks. While she was gone Nisha darted away, coming back to sit in the same place with a nondescript little black bag next to her by the time Angel returned.

“What’s that?” Angel asked, pointing it out as she licked at the veritable mountain of strawberry-chamomile ice cream overloading the poor cone.

“Adult stuff. You wouldn’t wanna know.”

“I’m not so sure about that…”

“Kid it’s probably gonna go up Rhys’ butt, you definitely don’t wanna know.”

“Eww.” Angel pulled a face, trying to distract herself with the ice cream as Nisha perused the presents they’d already bought.

“Feels like…I dunno. Feels like there should be something more here.” Nisha hummed, bobbing her leg. “Christ. This is like a freaky kind of rush. No wonder all these people are subjecting themselves to this.” She gestured vaguely at the crowds milling about.  

“Any ideas, kid?”

Angel crunched into her waffle cone, chewing thoughtfully.

“Well,” she spoke from behind her hand, “how ‘bout we check out one of those fancy jewelry stores?”

Nisha hadn’t set foot in one of these places since she’d been little and dragged along by her mother. They’d always seemed a little too clean for her tastes, like a doctor’s office almost, with its pure white carpeting and sleek shiny cases and uniformed security.

She pursed her lips, wrapping her arms around herself as she took a cautious step towards the jewelry laid delicately out in the long glass displays. Angel bustled towards the earrings, leaving Nisha alone to browse something her boys might like. She had already started to dismiss the idea of getting them jewelry the moment she’d walked into the store, but to her surprise something almost immediately caught her eye.  

Right smack dab in the middle of the main case were were two pretty rings paired next to each other that practically took Nisha’s breath away. Silver, embedded with fine strands of diamond and that broke around the metal like sap bleeding from a tree. She wasn’t exactly a huge fan of jewelry, but damn.

She put her hands on the top of the glass, peering up close. The rings’ stones twinkled like the enticing little bastards they were. Fuck. Those would look damn good on her boyfriends’ fingers.

“Oooh, those are soooo cool!” Angel awed as she bobbed over from the earrings case, pointed at the pair of rings. Nisha nodded in agreement.

“No kidding. You think your dad and Rhysie would like ‘em?”

“Oh yeah. Rhys likes blue, and dad likes blue ‘cause Rhys likes blue.”

Angel tapped her hand.

“You should get one for yourself, too.”

Nisha snorted.

“C’mon, Ang. I’m buying stuff for the guys, not for me. Doesn’t buying yourself a Christmas present kind of defeat the whole purpose? Besides,” Nisha held out her hand, “silver doesn’t really look good on me. Gold, platinum, maybe, but silver? Nah.”

She bought the two rings before she could second-guess the purchase, watching as the jeweler lovingly placed them in a pair of delicate heart-shaped boxes. The little knowing smile on her red lips annoyed Nisha slightly as she took the gift bag from her hand, Angel quickly thanking their clerk as the sheriff tramped out of the store and back out into the hustle and bustle.  

When they returned home, Jack and Rhys were already there filling the house with the smell of baking cookies. Rhys giggle and shut his eyes when Angel shouted at them to look the other way, and when Jack didn’t do the same he covered his face with a palm dusted in flower. Nisha gathered the presents from Angel, letting her gossip with her father and Rhys about the mall as she went to go hide them in the furthers corner of their closet, underneath the suits in the way back that Jack never bothered to wear.

Cookie decorating seemed lame but as Nisha stripped down and sat on the couch in her boxers and a loose tank top, she still needled Jack to save her one before they ruined them all with frosting and sprinkles.

Christmas morning came quicker than Nisha had expected.

She and Jack had been in a dead sleep, her arm flung across his chest, when Rhys had bustled into their bedroom with small tray balancing three cups of coffee. Nisha had been irritable for a moment as she shook sleep from her eyes, but perked up at the sight and smell of coffee prepared just the way she liked it.

With enough caffeine now in his system Jack was able to trundle out of bed and whip together some apple cinnamon pancakes that drew Angel out of her bed and into the living room where piles of gifts now lay underneath their massive tree. The thing was decked head to do with enough ornaments to sink a small ship, and wrapped with so many lights that they reflected against the pure white walls like a stained glass window. Rhys welcomed Angel with a tight hug and a mug of mint tea to go along with the pancakes as they all took a seat on the couches and began to divvy up the gifts.

Each had a stocking to go along with their haul, ostensibly stuffed with gifts from “Santa” marked with handwriting that was obviously Jack’s—if the ham-fisted wrapping job didn’t already give that away. But they all played along, tongue in cheek as they thanked the man in red for giving them their favorite candies and little stocking-stuffers. Nisha was grateful for the kitschy trinkets, as it gave her and Rhys and Angel something to do as Jack tackled the pile of gifts given to him by servile stockholders and executives.

“Harris really thinks she can impress me with a frikkin’ Spiralizer? Do I look like a guy who makes his pasta out of zucchini? Instead of frikkin flour like a normal human?” Jack snorted as he tossed aside one box in favor of a more expensive-looking one. “Garcia’s got me, though. Cheese knives! Heck yes. We’re gonna have so many fancy cheese parties now, kiddo.”

“Are we?” Rhys looked up from where he was sniffing a tiny peppermint candle taken his stocking. Jack nodded yes and patted his shoulder.

“Dad, can we move onto the real presents now?” Angel moaned from the other end of the couch, the little LED lights she’d gotten from her stocking draped artfully about her shoulders. Jack relented with a sigh, setting his stack of employee gifts on the floor as he welcomed the ones they’d gotten for each other. Rhys insisted they let the youngest go first, much to Jack’s indignation. The bit of peppermint bark Rhys shoved in his mouth quieted him pretty quick.

Angel went just a starry-eyed as Nisha thought she would when she opened the huge, cutely packaged makeup palette she’d grabbed for her.

“So you weren’t getting something for Rhys!” She grinned knowingly. Rhys raised an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Nisha snickered as she nudged Rhys with her elbow. “Go on, open yours.”

“Paisley!” Rhys exclaimed as soon as he lifted the scarf from the unwrapped box. “How did you guys know?”

“She’s seen your boxers, pumpkin,” Jack winked. Rhys’ face glowed with blush as he busied himself opening up the socks, gushing as he thanked Angel with a gentle hug.

Jack went apeshit over his stand mixer, immediately crowing about how he could finally make a delicate enough meringue worthy of Rhys’ palate. Nisha smiled into her coffee, feeling a touch of happiness inside her at the look on her boys’ faces. And they hadn’t even gotten to the crown jewels of her gifts.

Rhys of course, almost cried when he opened the ring boxes, covering his mouth with his hand as he looked at Nisha in shock. But weirdly enough, Jack had a small smirk on his face as he glanced down at his. He looked up at Angel, nodding in the direction of the tree.

“Princess. Why don’t you go ahead and grab that last gift?”

Nisha peered over, slightly confused to see Angel procuring a small box wrapped in shiny purple paper she hadn’t noticed before. She raised her eyebrows up at Jack and the teary Rhys, who was busy wiping his nose on his candy striped sleeve.

“Go on, Nish, open it up.” Jack encouraged as he took a sip from his coffee, watching his girlfriend over the rim. Jack’s smarmy, knowing look was usually kind of annoying, but right now it was kind of making her….excited to see what was in this little box.

She pulled the wrapping paper off with eager fingers, popping open the tiny velvet box to see a copy of the same ring she’d bought for her boyfriends. Except instead of silver, it was cast in rose gold and set with rows of amber stones and deep, purple tourmaline.

“Holy shit, you didn’t, how…how did you…?”

Jack jerked a thumb over to where Angel was wiggling on the couch, just barely able to contain her beaming smile.  

“This one practically dragged us to the mall to buy it for you at the eleventh hour. Took a bit of ‘convincing’ on my part to get it commissioned at the last second in colors you’d like a little more. Though for the record, babe, you look great in silver.”

“Oh, you little sneak,” Nisha wagged her finger at Angel, who merely giggled and tucked her legs up into her oversized sweater. Rhys shyly scooted up close to Nisha on the couch, hand cautiously closing around hers as he rested the other on the ring box.

“Um…may I?” Rhys flustered.

“Such a gentleman.” She winked at him and wiggled her digits. “Knock yourself out, sweetie.”

Rhys gratefully slid the ring onto her finger, his own twinkling in the myriad lights glowing on the Christmas tree.

“You know I’m probably gonna never wear this, right?” She turned to Jack, still letting Rhys hold onto her as she took her other boyfriend’s hand in hers.

Jack shrugged.

“We still wanted to get it for ya. Angel didn’t want you feeling left out.” Jack set his mug down on the table, leaning in to peck Nisha on the lips.

“I know all the Christmas crap isn’t really your thing, but we still wanted ya to know how we feel,” Jack confessed, scratching his belly underneath the fuzzy sweater Rhys had bought.

The sheriff’s face softened as she chuckled. Rhys practically purred as he snuggled up close to her, resting his cheek against her shoulder. Keeping her warm on both sides.

“I gotta…fuck…”

“Language, Nish.”

“Oh shut up, I was gonna say I’m starting to warm up to this whole Christmas thing. Maybe…”

She glanced from Jack and Angel to Rhys, the very kid who’d infected her whole life with festive cheer who was cuddling up to her with all the meek sincerity of a kitten. It was hard to feel much malice towards the holiday she otherwise resented when everyone was being so sweet to her.

Ugh. At this rate, she’d be tame by the time next Christmas rolled around.

But, she thought—as she watched Rhys fumble on his socks to the tune of Jack’s laughter and Angel’s flattery and smelled the scents of pine and apple and peppermint mingling together as they all sat close and shared the warmth of the family—maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing.

[cryptechhq]

CrypTech: A Cultist Conundrum

I’m throwing up the first story written in the CrypTech universe. Fey wrote this one out and I love it so much. Minor editing was done by me, but it was her creation and it’s great. I’m only uploading it because I work nights and was awake while building this blog. Enjoy!

The bookstore was wedged like a cut of cheese between the buildings as he glanced up from his book. Shelves like honeycomb and the air thick with the scent of liquor. Tonight was game night, the night he waited for since the last blue moon. The night where the eye over the world flickered and he saw what lay deep within. Those who were never allowed to walk in the daylight, those who hid themselves.

Fixing his favorite shirt, the one with the flowers, palm trees and surfboards, he remembered his vacation. He had walked around looking for a certain book he never did find, but instead he found this shirt under a pile of blue and neon pink button up shirts. The ocean scent on the air, it had been the last time he saw his mentor.

Tails, claws, eyes and sharp teeth were upon him as he smirked. Here at this bookstore, that had stood since the old days, he felt at home. The store had always been here, along the veins of the earth that ran beneath it. The energy that twisted its inner blood throughout like highways. This small piece of land hid secrets under the dirt, where runes were once carved and people left the dead in the sea of dirt.

Playing with his phone, he went to take a picture of his dungeon and dragons group as the flash went off and he saw a woman hiss as she took off towards the back. Staring at the picture he saw the green like smoke that was around her and those cat like reflective eyes. A whisper she was, as he tried to recall her. Had he met her before? Grasping at his memories, he tried to think, but nothing was coming to him.

A sharp pain came to his mind as he got out of his seat and chased after her quickly. As he caught up, he saw she was in the small alley looking around. Time slowed as he went to say something to only be caught by what he was seeing. The mirror like shards around her slowly coming back up as he saw the pointed ears, reflective cat-like eyes and those sharp teeth. They reminded him of a dream, as he saw the mirrors take whole as she appeared human. As if the image he had saw before was nothing but a dream.

“Wait!” the word vomit hit the air as she stopped tilting her head looking at him.

“Why?”

What was she? He had seen creatures and monsters in the city before, but she was something new. Something different from the typical creatures he saw. Was she a witch too?

“Are you-” He went to ask, but he saw her eyes go wide before she took off down the alley. Turning around he noticed the shadow watching them, and as he looked back she was gone.

He had seen her at the bookstore before, on game night. But recalling her name was hard. He knew nothing about the others, aside from that a few worked in the city. But the dead zone was theirs. The area the city forgot about, with the cenmatry(?) building that once held patrons. Now it was just an empty shell, wrapped around with a grass fence.

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Entering the dead zone, the huge white shelter stood there in the middle of the street. No bus ever stopped here, only rushed down the road like a roach when the lights were turned on. The sign stapled to the boarded up window said “not in business.” as he fished for the keys in his pocket. The city forgot about a lot of things. Here in the center there was nothing, except boarded up shops and stores. Not a living creature dared to come through unless they were quickly passing through. No one ever stopped, unless they were like him. Those who have seen in the back of the eye and know the eyes does not see all.

Popping the door open, he kept trying to figure out what she was. Reflective mirrors, was it a spell or an enchantment. He was still learning more than his craft. Scribbling in his notebook, he came up with ideas, but was interrupted by a dripping sound. A single drip that tattered against the floor, the note played over and over again. As he searched for the source, he hoped a spring would not form from the ceiling, creating a waterfall.

A crash came from upstairs, and he rushed towards it. as he reached the top he saw her there, soaking wet and sniffling. Raising an eyebrow, he went to ask a question, but stopped as he saw blood running down her arm. He went to her side as she took a step back.

“Don’t.” It came out a hiss, and he raised his hands defensively

“I think I have a spell for that.”

“What?” She asked, as he flicked his wrist, and the cut on her arm slowly healed. Looking around she heard a noise and shivered.

“I gotta keep going, bye.”

“You’re safe here, warded the place myself. I’m Jakz, and you are?” He asked, as he looked around. Grabbing up an old shirt, he tossed it towards her. The shirt dropped like a dead bird as she watched him.

“Fey.” One word as she went to the window looking outside. Left, right, and up. Nothing was there. She crumpled near the window, taking in a breath.

“This is stupid, you aren’t CrypTech.”

He raised a hand, gesturing to the room. “This is CrypTech.” She ran a hand through her hair.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

Leaning back against the wall, she let her shoulders drop. “You’re one person, and you state you have supernatural solutions. Ever dealt with pissed off cultist?”

“First time for everything. So what type of cultist?” He looked out the window before shutting the blinds, leaving the room dark. He went over and turned on a lamp. Sitting down in a chair, he looked at her as if telling her to come sit at the table. With a foot he tried to clean up the water on the floor.

“Also where did the water come from?” He asked. She sat down across from him wiping her nose with her arm.

“It was raining in Arcadia.”

“The city?” He asked as she made a face.

“For supernatural solutions you don’t know much. Arcadia is another name for…you know right?” She asked as he looked at her shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t tell me I am your first customer….” She let out a nervous laugh as she took in a sharp breath.

“Well, I am fucked. You’re what a warlock? Mage? Made a contract with a good neighbor?” She kept playing with the black rubber band on her wrist as she looked around taking in the room. The TV, the computer set up with four screens and the carved runes.

“No, I am a witch...and you are?”

“Give me your full name and find out?”

“Rumpelstiltskin.” He replied in a deadpan voice. Smirking she nodded her head.

“But yet don’t know what Arcadia is. Wow, didn’t get into Hogwarts or something?”

“Listen here, Tinkerbell.”

“Oh, so you do know what I am?” He made a face, she could be or couldn’t be, glamour magic was very common, especially around creatures that lived in the dead zone.

“You said cultist and you needed help. I do know some stuff about them.”

“Oh really, Mr. Potter.”

“Tell me everything, Tink.” He saw her smirk as she let the glamour drop.

“Kay, Jack?” She questioned as he shook his head. “Jack isn’t your name, how about another one with a J? Jake?”

“You said you needed help, Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.”

She laughed as she wringed out her hair. “Cthulhu cultist.”

“In the desert?” He blurted as she nodded her head.

“Yes, they been recruiting out here and weren’t happy I called their old one or whatever sushi.”

“You must have done more for them to come after you.”

“I also took something, humans didn’t and shouldn’t ever have, maybe.”

“Easy. give it back, no more cultist.”

“Not so easy, that’s why I am here. If I wasn’t desperate I wouldn’t be here, I would be home googling answers.” She placed a book on the table as he went to touch it, she slapped his hand.

“Don’t touch, it’s the Necronomicon. It does stuff to humans.”

“How-?!” He saw her pull it back. Yet as her hands crossed over the book, it disappeared.

“You think they would have hidden it better. Also they never said I wasn’t…” She paused before finishing her sentence.

“Wasn’t what?”

She shook her head, “So help me deal with them and I’ll pay you.”

“I need more information.”

“I just told, you I took the book and now they are after me. When you took that stupid picture earlier it messed up my glamour, and one of them found me.”

“So that’s why you ran.”

“Why else would I run? We were in a middle of a campaign. And now my poor tiefling rogue is stuck unless you continued game. “

“You play Azura!” She rolled her eyes as he tapped his fingers against the table.

“We will go talk to them.”

“No.” She blurted, “Are you nuts, they are cultists and not the average cultists. They still use blood.”

“Like I said I need more detail.”

“Urgh.”

“Look you give me information about them, and your kind, and you don’t have to pay.”

“I can pay, no problem, but giving information is rather hard. Especially ‘cause your human. How do I know this isn’t going to end up like a episode of the x-files or something. I don’t want Trump coming after us.”

“Even creatures are scared of trump?”

“More like scared of what he can do. Like, hello, you live on this planet too.” Rubbing her eyes, she tapped her fingers against the table, before speaking.

“Fine. Ask and I’ll answer, but you have to help me get these sushi cultists off me. And no, I am not returning the book.”

“Why do you need it so badly?” He watched her as she looked at the mark on her wrist.

“Mostly, no human should have it. It’s like the ultimate necromancy field guide. Bet they can’t even read this.”

“You’re a necromancer, and?”

“You can ask more than one-word answer questions, you know?” Rubbing the back of her neck, she watched as he scribbled more stuff down.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Ever hear of good neighbors?”

“What, like State Farm?” he asked looking up from his notebook.

“Fairies, fae folk, elves, trolls, ringing something in that head?”

“Heard of them yes. So you’re a fairy?”

“sort of.”

“Arcadia is what. fairy land?”

Nodding her head, she glanced out the window. “Faerie it used to be called. But with all the fae names and stuff Arcadia was the best. So, Jacob how you gonna take care of the sushi cult?”

Glancing at his notes, “Well Wanda, we are going to go talk to them.”

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“We are going to die.” She stated as she dried herself off downstairs. He grabbed a backpack and a few items from the desks.

“Good thing you’re a necromancer.”

“Can’t re-animate myself, blondie.”

“What type of witch are you? Water, an element?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Locking up the shop, he stopped as she cracked her back. Quiet like always but something felt off.

“They hide in downtown, near the old church.”

His car chirped as she stood near it. “How did you get into my place? I warded it.”

She froze, her eyes never meeting his. “Ever have things go missing in your place?”

“Yes, but answer the question.”

“You left a welcome sign in the window. What does that do?”

“Stop with the riddles, Fey.”

Leaning against the car she crossed her arms over her chest. “You welcomed anyone who needs a welcome in. I am shocked you didn’t know about that rule. So pretty much any fae folk are welcomed, along with blood suckers. Also it's easy getting to places through Arcadia.”  

“Wait, have you been taking my stuff?” She got into the car as he got in the driver seat staring at her.

“Who knows? Could have been anyone in Arcadia going through the dead zone.”

“You better not have taken my Runic black dice set.”

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“Left up here.” The street lights guided the way. There were people out this night, walking along the shops. As he drove into a small parking lot he could see the huge black iron fences surrounding the old church. Large, grey and white stone, it used to tower over the city Now it was just a small building in a shadow of a corporate office.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he parked the car.

“There’s iron, if there’s a fight I am screwed. Also there’s not much dirt. More concrete than anything.  If I need to raise the dead I need dirt, they can’t break out of concrete. Modern coffins are bad enough.”

“We are talking not fighting. Let me handle it.”

Her eyes shifted as she curled her hands. He opened the fence, and she followed behind him, trying to not touch anything as she kept an eye out. Fixing his shirt, he ruffled his hair a little as he looked back at her.

“Where to from here?”

Shrugging her shoulders, “Not sure, I came from Arcadia to here. I didn’t have to enter the church this way.”

The door was falling apart as he pushed it open, letting it fall. Inside was a heavy layer of dust and spider webs.

“No one here.”

“We need to move the altar.”

“I thought you said, you never came in this way.” She started trying to push the altar as dust flew all over the place.

“This usually causes something to happen in action movies. Also I can use an extra set of hands.” The altar moved as she was huffing.

“Don’t work out much?”

“Shut up, Blondie.”

There were stairs leading down as she looked at him and then started down the stairs.

“You can see in the dark.” He whispered as she felt the walls as she walked.

“No, I am following the wall.”   A light was flickering as she stopped, and felt him bump into her. She stumbled as she saw cloaked figures running around like she saw before. “Uh.” It came out as she went to take a step back to stay there.

“Go.” He stated as she looked back at him.

She took one step as she saw a hooded head look towards her. “You.” A growl came out from the hooded person as she smiled and waved, “Hi. Sorry about calling your octo god sushi?” She walked slowly as she felt Jakz get in front of her.

“We are here to talk, nothing more.” The hooded figure glanced at him before sniffing the air.

“A human.”

“Middle man.” Jakz explained before grabbing Fey’s arm. She turned to look at him as he mouthed two words Trust me.

“She took something of ours.” The hood was pushed back showing a human with fish like skin. It took Jakz a thorough effort to not start humming a Lovecraftian Christmas Carol.

“Is there somewhere we can talk? Instead of right here? Like a café or something?” he asked. as he took in the hallways and lights.

“The chamber, Elder Craft should be there. This way.”

Following the fish like man, Jakz held on to Fey’s arm as she curled her fingers. The chamber was huge, and looked as if they were under the sea. Blues, greens and the scent of sea salt. A man was pacing as he stopping locking eyes on them. The fish man bowed his head,

“Elder Craft, a human brought the thief.”

“Good, reward him.” Elder Craft stated. As Fey looked at him the green smoke started to form around her.

“I am not here for a reward. Here to talk, Elder Craft, right?” Jakz stated as the smoke started to disappear, still lingering. “Why don’t you tell me about the book she took?”

“It’s none of your concern human.” Craft hissed as Jakz let go of Fey’s arm.

“It is my concern when you start hunting down my client.”

“She’s a thief.”

“Then how come the book belongs in Miskatonic University library? Is a thief a thief, if she took it from a thief and returned a lost library book?”

The elder walked quickly to Jakz face as he was a few inches away, hissing. “She did what? No.”

Fey glared, her eyes locked on the elder. As she glanced around she saw there were bloodstains being cleaned. The elder went to grab her, but stopped as lighting crackled from Jakz.

“Don’t touch my client. We done here? If you want your book, you’re going to need a library card.”   

Fey rubbed her wrist as she heard foot steps coming quickly. A growl as the elder looked at her.

“Sorry for calling your god sushi.” The elder made a face as he turned his back to them.

“Never come back here. Else when he wakens, you’re going to be the first sacrifice.”

“Bye.” Jakz went to say something she grabbed him as he felt sea sick. Everything was turning as he saw trees and lights and then they were back at the car, Fey taking quick breaths as he looked at her dizzily.

“What was that?” He tried focusing on something to stop the feeling of being at sea. She looked beat.

“A glimpse of Arcadia. I didn’t like that they were surrounding us, and they looked ready for a new sacrifice. Couldn’t have the guy helping me end up a soul for some sushi god.”

“Now to get the book to the library.”

She glared as she looked at her wrist. “No, our deal was I keep the book.”

“I have a plan. But more questions.”

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

Smoke danced from the coffee cups as they sat in the studio apartment. Morning crept through the window, and Fey added another spoonful of sugar to hers.

“What now?”

He took a drink from his cup as he placed a hand on the table. “Can I see the book again? I am not going to touch it.” Crossing her wrist over the table, it appeared.

“I need it for a day.”

She took a drink as she glared. “What are you planning? You can’t touch it.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “It corrupts human minds. The whispers of it often causes people to kill and, well, you saw the cult.”

“Then how come you can touch it?”

“Fae blood. Also, that library…”

He smirked as she looked at him, “It doesn’t exist.” She looked shocked as she took a spoonful of sugar and placed it into her mouth.

“You tricked a cult…who knows, maybe you have fae blood in you.” She smirked as he saw her rub the cover.

“Why didn’t you hide in Arcadia instead of coming to me? You said you were desperate but yet you seemed to be taking note of everything? What are you hiding?” She tapped the spoon against the coffee cup.

Cracking her neck, she had a smile on her lips, “It’s a long story as well...” She flipped out a knife, as crackling could be heard. She looked at him as she craved a symbol into the window’s glass. She put the knife away as she sat back down. “To keep other fae from entering. And blood suckers. And it’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

“Trade you a tale for your full name?” He let out a laugh as she put another spoonful of sugar into her mouth.

“Hey.” He blurted as she looked up at him shrugging. “You’re going to eat all the sugar.”

“I need to get my strength back, jumping to and fro is tiring.” He looked at her as she leaned back in the chair. He stared at the cover as blue lighting danced from his fingers. She saw him point his hand, and the sparks went to the computer.

“What are you?” He looked at her as he was focusing on the book.

“Hey.” She blurted as he closed his eyes. Sparks dying out as he smiled as she leaned over the table looking at him. Before slapping one of his cheeks like a seal  “Don’t be possessed. Come on I don’t need another corpse.”

“Boo.” She almost fell back as she glared like a house cat.

“What did you do?” She grabbed the book checking it over as she opened it looking at pages, flipping through them quickly.

“I made a copy.” Raising an eyebrow, she hugged the book to her chest.

“You downloaded the book…that’s new.”

Putting the book away she finished her coffee with a yawn. “This has been one hell of a night. Still can’t believe you ended that conflict with a lie.”

“I do that sometimes. How long were you running from them?”

“Four months. Any other questions, tech wiz kid?” He let out a laugh as she looked at the desktop screen to see the typed words moving as if alive.

“Want a job?”

“I don’t know, let me check my schedule.” She pretended to flip through a book as she nodded her head, “I can move grave robbing to tomorrow at midnight, and... oh no. Well, I can move that to next blood moon.” She looked at him. “I figured you were going to need help.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked

“You don’t know everything. Some things, yes. And you got yourself a silver tongue.  I did say I would answer any question. We made a deal.”

“What does that have to do with a job?”

“Don’t know much about fae folks, a deal is a contract. You’re looking at you new co-worker, Jules.”

“That’s not my name, try again co-worker.”

[loyallogic]

Online Sale of Liquor: Legal Angle

This article is written by Jigyasa Fonia.      

Introduction: Supreme Court asks states to consider online sale of liquor

The sudden outburst of a disease named Coronavirus which is also known as COVID -19, has affected our lives severely. It has not only affected our everyday lives but also changed the way we comprehended our world. The nation in light of the pandemic situation had to take some decision to contain COVID-19 in India. So, India took a huge step on March 24, on the advice of health experts, that the entire country will be subjected to complete lockdown. The lockdown was for three weeks in which no was allowed to step out of their houses except for buying food and essentials. After three weeks of comprehensive lockdown, Prime Minister of India announced an extension of lockdown as several cases and death toll aroused. During the two lockdowns 1.3 billion people lived in isolation to stop the spread of the deadly virus and stepped out of their homes only in emergencies. After two successive lockdowns, India’s people thought that maybe this time the lockdown will be lifted but it was again extended as the situation went out of control and reported cases crossed 40,000. India classified their districts into three zones that are- Red, Orange and Green. With these three zones comes containment zones to contain the spread of the deadly virus. The third lockdown was different from the two other lockdowns as it provided relaxation in certain areas. In the third lockdown, the government allowed people to buy alcohol in all the three zones except in the containment zones but with advice that social distancing must be followed. After this announcement, people rushed to the liquor store the next day and because of the gathering of people in large numbers commotion erupted. There were long queues outside the liquor shops and people were standing close to each other. Liquor shops were closed in some places as people were not following social distancing rules. Seeing all this chaos, Public Interest Litigation (PIL) was moved in the court against the decision of the government to open liquor shops which contended that this created ruckus in the states and can also jeopardize the efforts taken so far to contain the virus.

On 8th May, the Supreme Court dismissed the PIL to halt the sale of alcohol across the country but took into consideration the perspective of selling liquor online to maintain the social distancing norms. The Supreme Court passed an order in which it was said that the state should consider online sales as well as home delivery of liquor in light of the pandemic situation. As of now only few states like Odisha, Chhattisgarh, Tamil Nadu and West Bengal have allowed the online sale of liquor whereas there are few states which have banned the sale of liquor while others are still contemplating. During this time, The Delhi Government initiated an e-token system to dodge public gatherings in front of liquor shops. In this system, people register and collect tokens to buy liquor from a close liquor shop. No one will get alcohol without this e-token and liquor shops have to abide by this system. This e-token will not only provide buyers with a time slot but also provides the address of a liquor shop from where they can buy liquor. At a time only five customers will be permitted inside the liquor shops with their masks on their face to ensure protection of people. Maharashtra also started this e-token system in Pune to test this system before deciding whether to introduce it on a larger scale or not. But eventually Maharashtra decided to opt the idea of home delivery of liquor in some areas to save people from the virus. The liquor industry also advised the government to permit online sale of liquor and home delivery too. They also demanded to permit delivery of liquor through the medium of food delivery apps like Zomato and Swiggy. So, states are in discussion with Zomato and Swiggy.

                              Click Above

Reasons behind the online sale of liquor

The third lockdown provided few relaxations and one of the relaxation was lifting the ban from alcohol. Liquor shops were allowed to open on May 4 in all the three zones apart from the containment zone and people were asked to firmly follow the social distancing norms. Long queues were seen outside the liquor shops as a large number of people gathered to buy liquor which ultimately resulted in commotion across states. People did not even follow social distancing while they were standing in the lines. Chalk circles were drawn for the purchasers to stand in but all social distancing efforts were foiled as people had gathered from early morning. Seeing all this chaos, PIL was filed by people as they were afraid of the fact that their efforts will go in waste if the stay order is not passed on the sale of liquor. One of the PIL was filed by Guruswamy Nataraj, a citizen who wanted liquor shops to be closed across the country as the decision of opening liquor shops is attached to public threat also. Direct contact sale of alcohol will jeopardize all the efforts taken so far to contain the coronavirus. A three-judge bench heard the petition through video conferencing dismissed the petition and declined to pass any orders as it is a policy decision. However, the apex court also said that the state should consider an indirect sale or delivery liquor to maintain social distancing and contain the spread of the deadly virus in India. Keeping in mind the suggestion of the Court, the states started online sales by introducing an e-token system whereas in some states home delivery of liquor started. The impact of coronavirus has not only affected people but also the Indian economy. As the whole nation is subjected to lockdown no one is supposed to step out of their house until and unless they are stepping out to buy food essentials or in case of emergency. Offices, colleges, schools and companies have been shut down to contain the spread of the virus. Hence, the Indian economy is going through a rough time because of businesses being shut down for more than a month. Liquor was prohibited in the first two lockdowns. On an average state was losing an estimate of Rs.700 crore a day. One of the primary sources of the state’s revenue is the sale and manufacture of liquor. And during this time when the Indian economy is facing unparalleled battering states want to mobilize more resources and the permitting sale of alcohol will help them in attaining their goals. Liquor plays an important role in contributing a substantial amount to the national treasury of states and Union Territories excluding Bihar and Gujarat as both of them are dry states. Excise duty is charged on sale and manufacture of liquor and it is considered to be the second or third largest contributor to the category State’s Tax Revenue. So, in this pandemic situation where all businesses have been shut down an absolute prohibition on sales of liquor is counterproductive. Restarting sales of liquor would shore up the flagging economy which have been struck hard by the lockdown. Home delivery of alcohol was never done before. This provision is a big step taken by the government in light of this pandemic situation. 

Legal Provisions regarding online sale of liquor

Alcohol finds its place in the State List of the Indian Constitution under Entry 51 that makes ‘alcohol for human consumption’ a subject matter of states. It grants states the authority to charge duties on alcohol for human consumption. Article 47 of Directive Principles directs that the state shall endeavour to bring about prohibition of the consumption except for medicinal purposes of intoxicating drinks and of drugs which are injurious to health. Liquor bans are justified with the help of this article. Liquor laws and the drinking age are different all over the states as liquor is a subject in the State List. 

Selling liquor online is illegal in India until and unless laws are modified. Liquor finds its place in the State List of the Constitution and only states are authorised to sell alcohol as state levy taxes on liquor which eventually gives the government a lot of revenue. State Governments are the controller of Excise Taxes and Sale of liquor.

Critical Analysis

Allowing the sale of alcohol to recover the flagging economy was a good idea but it can aggravate violence too. During the lockdown, the sale of alcohol is an unwise decision as isolation is being practiced and it prompts to mental instability. Consumption of alcohol during this time may give rise to violence. Alcohol lessens reticence and ability to control emotions which may give rise to domestic violence. There is nothing to do much in lockdown as everything is on halt right now. This can incline people to excessive drinking as there are no restrictions and people have an ample amount of time. Alcohol withdrawal and concomitant ills like suicides and substitution with toxic substitutes can pose a problem because of minimal access to healthcare facilities. Patients of alcohol withdrawing need continuous supervision and medication which patients won’t get as doctors are dealing with patients of coronavirus. And during this time going to hospitals is too risky as the patients who are in the hospital for check-up may get in contact with the virus. In crisis or like in major disasters people have a tendency to drink more if provided alcohol. If during this pandemic, people are drinking more than usual then people are getting prone to health problems. Heavy drinking to cope with stress and isolation may pose health problems.

Conclusion

Covid-19 has emerged to be a public threat globally as several people around the world have been severely affected by it. It is added to the list of earlier infectious disease outbreaks like the Swine Flu, the Avian Flu and Ebola. All these outbreaks try to bring our attention to the fact that it is important to value the relationship that we share among social life, environment and the animal for survival and to flourish. This pandemic is also teaching that preventive measures and social distancing measures are important to keep the virus under control. Till the time vaccine is not available we all have to fight for our survival. Businesses in India are going through a tough time because of terrible losses which not only threaten their solvency but also operations and that too among smaller enterprises. Amid all of this government is trying real hard to contain the spread of the deadly virus. Sale of liquor was started to shore up the flagging economy as one of the primary sources of the state’s revenue is the sale and manufacture of liquor. But this was not that easy as people gathered in large numbers and did not follow social distancing norms. Petitions were filed against this decision of the government but the Supreme Court saw merit in the idea of online sale of liquor and asked the state to consider it amid lockdown. Many states have opted for this idea and some are still contemplating. Nothing is going to stop our life as pandemic comes and goes. We just have to understand the seriousness of this situation as there is life after all this. We are all in this together and will come out of this together. 

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[liveindiatimes]

States to fix zones in lockdown 4.0 - india news

https://www.liveindiatimes.com/states-to-fix-zones-in-lockdown-4-0-india-news/

The government on Sunday lifted several stringent curbs, including that on interstate travel and some local transport such as buses, and announced that state governments will grade zones based on the prevalence of coronavirus disease (Covid-19) cases, while it also extended the nationwide lockdown imposed in March-end to stop the spread of the contagion till May 31.

In fresh guidelines, the home ministry also allowed the resumption of app-based cab services; gave permission to the functioning of all shops, markets and commercial establishments except those in malls; and eased curbs on private offices that were previously allowed to function with 33% staff strength.

Stadiums and sports complexes were allowed to open for the first time since March 25 — when the lockdown was first imposed — but spectators will not be permitted inside.

Click here for the complete coverage of the Covid-19 pandemic

The two significant steps that stood out were the conditional approval to interstate movement of passenger vehicles and buses with “mutual consent” of the states and the Union Territories (UTs) involved, and the transfer of power to states for defining red, orange and green zones that have been instrumental in the strategy for imposing area-specific curbs in the previous phase of the lockdown.

The Centre also allowed states and UTs to decide on the movement of passenger vehicles within their territories, and lifted the ban on cab aggregators such as Ola and Uber even in areas with relatively higher cases.

In lockdown 3.0, interstate travel was a banned activity, except in special cases such as the transport of stranded migrants by bus. Also, it was the Centre that came out with two lists — on April 15 and on May 1 — identifying red zones (with maximum Covid-19 cases), orange zones (with fewer infections) and green zones (Covid-19-free areas), though several states expressed dismay over the process.

Also Read: Govt eases Aarogya Setu app requirements

“Under the new guidelines, States and Union Territories (UTs) will now delineate Red, Green and Orange zones taking into consideration the parameters shared by the Health Ministry,” a press statement by the government said. These zones can be a district, or a municipal corporation, or even smaller administrative units such as sub-divisions.

The government’s statement added that within red and orange zones, “containment and buffer zones will be as demarcated by the local authorities, after taking into consideration the Health Ministry guidelines”. No relaxations spelt out in the federal guidelines will be applicable to these areas, which will have strict perimeter control and where only essential services will be allowed.

Also Read: Economic package will have multiplier effect: Nirmala Sitharaman

A containment zone can broadly be defined as the epicentre of an infection, while buffer zones are areas adjoining the containment zone where new cases are more likely to appear.

In the fresh guidelines, the government also advised people to use the contact-tracing Aarogya Setu app, and said employers should put in their “best effort” to ensure staff members install it. Earlier, the app was a must for people working in private and public sectors.

Metro train services; domestic and international passenger flights; schools and colleges; hospitality services; cinema halls; shopping malls and dine-in restaurants; and religious and political gatherings will continue to be prohibited across the country. Only special trains — a pair of 15 premium trains and those ferrying migrants to their homes — will run in this period.

Also Read: Govt nod for interstate travel but flights, trains, Metros still halted

Also, the ban on non-essential travel between 7pm and 7am will continue. Spitting and consumption of liquor, gutkha and tobacco in public places continue to be banned.

“All other activities will be permitted, except those which are specifically prohibited,” the guidelines for the fourth phase of lockdown said.

“Further, States/UTs, based on their assessment of the situation, may prohibit certain other activities in the various zones…,” the order said, indicating relaxations could largely be dependent on state-specific rules.

The opening of marketplaces, albeit in a staggered manner, is expected to help put economic activities, stalled by the unprecedented lockdown, back on track to some extent. Another major decision in that direction was the decision to lift curbs on establishments and factories that were restricted to work with just one-third of their staff from office. However, firms were advised to allow their employees work from home to the extent possible. The guidelines reiterated that wearing of mask was mandatory in public places and offices.

States and UTs were asked to make sure that the movement of cargo trucks or medical personnel was not hindered.

The nationwide lockdown, the first phase imposed on March 25 for 21 days, has been extended thrice. The second and the third phases of the curbs – starting April 15 and May 4 — lasted 19 days and 14 days, respectively. On March 25, India had 657 Covid-19 cases, which have increased to 95,656 infections as of Sunday.

After the central guidelines were issued, Union home secretary Ajay Bhalla wrote to all states, asking them to ensure strict compliance of the lockdown rules.Officials across states held emergency meetings, and many of them said they will come up with their own guidelines by Monday.

Amir Subhani, Bihar’s additional chief secretary of the home department, said the state will adhere to the home ministry order.

Uttar Pradesh chief secretary RK Tiwari said, “…We will release Uttar Pradesh-specific guidelines after studying the Centre’s guidelines.”

While Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan and West Bengal were likely to announce their guidelines on Monday, Punjab, too, will hold a key meeting to take a call on the rules dictating the terms for lockdown 4.0.

Meghalaya and Nagaland announced that the existing restrictions will continue for the next round as well.

“In Meghalaya, keeping in mind the inflow of Meghalaya citizens from different parts of the country, we have decided to maintain the current restrictions and no further relaxation are planned as of now. If (there are) any changes, it will be notified accordingly,” Meghalaya chief minister Conrad Sangma tweeted.

(With inputs from states)

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New Post has been published on https://acqro.in/after-40-days-of-lockdown-indians-just-wanted-alcohol-not-gujarat-model/

After 40 days of lockdown, Indians just wanted alcohol not ‘Gujarat Model’

While it’s easy to forget the coronavirus crisis in high spirits, many states realised that opening the shops was not very practical to keep a pandemic at bay.

File photo | People buy alcohol in Delhi’s Paharganj | Photo: Manisha Mondal | ThePrint

For 40 days and nights, the ‘Gujarat Model’ had been successfully implemented across India. Then, on the 41st day, following a Ministry of Home Affairs circular, the red, green, and orange coronavirus zones parted like the Red Sea — for India’s tipplers to make way to the alcohol shops.

Standalone liquor shops in India reopened Monday after nearly six weeks of lockdown — but no one expected that they would be the engine of India’s economic revival. Excise duty on alcohol makes up a third of any state’s tax revenues — for states such as Karnataka, West Bengal and Uttar Pradesh, the income from alcohol is even higher.

No wonder then that India witnessed liquor sales worth crores of rupees on the first day of the shops reopening since the nationwide lockdown came into force on 25 March. It also saw social distancing rules being flouted, people lining up till kilometres, mugs replacing masks, coconuts being broken and people performing aarti in front of stores, high ‘corona’ taxes being levied, and shops being shut down by the police. Now, the Supreme Court has favoured the proposal of alcohol home-delivery but left it upon the states to take the final call. And Zomato wants to home-deliver liquor. All this in one week. And that’s why alcohol is ThePrint’s Newsmaker of the Week.

Not to mention, this week also saw a big surge in India’s coronavirus cases.

In high spirits India has a drinking problem. Between 2010 and 2017, alcohol consumption jumped by 38 per cent in India. And in 11 years (2005-16), it more than doubled. It also leads to nearly three lakh deaths in India each year, according to the World Health Organization.

But liquor sales add significantly to each state’s own tax revenue. Duties levied on alcohol make up 10-15 per cent of a state’s tax revenue, not including prohibition states such as Gujarat and Bihar, according to a Reserve Bank of India (RBI) report.

With state coffers drying up due to the coronavirus crisis, the lockdown and the Narendra Modi government slashing states’ share in central taxes, opening alcohol shops was also a way to add quick, easy money. And add money, it did. On day one, Uttar Pradesh sold Rs 100-crore worth of alcohol. Delhi’s 70 per cent ‘corona tax’ on liquor didn’t deter buyers from making a beeline to the 150 government-run shops. The national capital usually makes Rs 3,500 crore per month from liquor sales. Karnataka made a record sale in a day — Rs 197 crore on Tuesday.

The sales and revenue have left many in high spirits after an April in the economic doldrums.

A man in Delhi was seen showering rose petals on those who had queued up to buy alcohol. “You are the economy of the country. The government has no money,” he said. Touché.

The line for alcohol in Nehru Nagar was more than a kilometer long | Photo: Manisha Mondal | ThePrint

Tipplers’ tales While it is easy to forget the coronavirus crisis in high spirits, many Indian states also realised this week that opening alcohol shops was not very practical to keep a pandemic at bay. So, some controls had to be implemented.

In New Delhi, crowds were lathi-charged by the police to disperse them. Haryana implemented a Covid-cess; Karnataka is planning a 5-15 per cent Covid-tax; West Bengal has imposed 30 per cent tax on MRP; Andhra Pradesh, 75 per cent; Maharashtra is also thinking of hiking tax on liquor now.

Apart from this, several states are also considering delivering liquor to homes to reduce the risk of alcohol shops becoming coronavirus hotspots. This plan even has Supreme Court backing. On Friday, the court, addressing a PIL on alcohol sales, said, “We will not pass any order but states should consider home delivery or indirect sale of liquor to maintain social distancing.”

According to Reuters, food delivery aggregator Zomato has already submitted a proposal.

Circles were drawn outside an alcohol shop in Daryaganj Tuesday as a precautionary measure | Photo: Manisha Mondal | ThePrint

Glass half-full But not everyone is happy with the steady flow of liquor again. Women in Uttarakhand protested the move, saying it will take a toll on already-low household incomes, joblessness and the family. Rights activists have said opening liquor shops will add to domestic violence against women, which had already increased during the lockdown period.

Whichever road India takes now to the oasis of alcohol, it will have a hangover effect. It can both lead to a spike in Covid-19 cases and increase state revenue.

A month ago, India was Googling ‘how to make alcohol at home’. In the last one week — the fuel of the locked-down economy’s engine has kept everyone in India — from treasurers, bureaucrats, chief ministers to police, families and liquor shop owners — awake.

“Alcohol is the anaesthesia by which we endure the operation of life,” George Bernard Shaw had once said.

For now, India is seeing its glass half-full.

Views are personal.