#our staff is so tiny now because my last intern also quit right before I went on vacation

[crimsonblackrose]

Well my last mini boss left for a different job while I was out on vacation and my main boss is on extended sick leave so I came in with 0 information on our changes or what was going on. I'm still not 100% certain and I'm also fairly certain the person covering for my boss wasn't told my vacation days so probably isn't/wasn't aware I was coming back today. So what I'm doing is super tedious, which is painstakingly comparing what has been done to what is marked needs to be done and slowly making changes based off of it. It's taking forever.

[flooffybits]

What Could Have Been

Idol: Jennie Kim (Blackpink), Park Chaeyoung (Blackpink) ft. Kim Yoohyeon (Dreamcatcher) & Jung Jinsoul (Loona)

@pricknim:  Hey there Floof! I was wondering if you could write a sequel to "When Actions Speak Louder" 👀. I really really enjoyed it, the angst was just the perfect amount, but I was lowkey hoping to see how Y/N, Jennie and Rose cope with the breakup. I just need to know, if Y/N managed to get their happy ending in the end TT *hint hint ;)* Also, I hope you are doing fine and stay hydrated :D

Part 1 is here

☕buy me a coffee☕

Jennie stared at the screen, feet swinging slightly as she watched her girlfriend wrap up her performance for the day. She wore a small smile on her face, feeling incredibly proud of the latter for her solo.

She knew just how difficult it was to promote without the rest of the girls, but they always did have each other. However, that thought had caused her smile to drop when she remembers the lack of presence inside the room.

Looking around, her gaze jumped from each of the staff’s faces as they busied around the room, fixing their equipment while some were happily watching the Australian’s performance with proud looks on their own faces.

When she looked to the couch you and Chaeyoung had previously occupied when she was promoting Solo, a slight sting came to her chest when the memories came flooding in. She didn’t know that she would ever be with either of you at the time, but it was right after that certain performance when her entire world lit up when you had both asked her if she would be alright with going out with you guys.

That was two years ago.

She had forced herself out of those thoughts, letting out a sigh as she refocused on the present. It’s been nearly a year since she’s last talked to you and while it was easy not having to be in the same vicinity as you, it was different when your face was just about everywhere.

While your group wasn’t promoting at the moment, you had been quite active with solo schedules. And while Chaeyoung has stopped trying to get a hold of you, Jennie has been keeping up to date with the things going on in your life, even if it was just from an outsider’s perspective.

She misses the good morning texts and the late night calls. And even when Chaeyoung refuses to even talk about you, she can see it in her girlfriend’s expression that she misses you, too. The only difference was that Chaeyoung decided that there was no dwelling on the past because it was you who let go of them.

But Jennie had taken a step back to understand just why everything ended the way it did.

They have neglected you. And what you told them that day was partially true. They had gotten so used to having you to fall back to that it didn’t seem like a relationship at all when it came to you.

And if she were to admit, it did look like you were only a bridge for her and Chaeyoung to have gotten together.

And she hated it.

When the realization dawned on her, Jennie felt sick to her stomach and she couldn’t find it in herself to look at Chaeyoung for a few days. And if the latter hadn’t stopped her, the entire relationship would have ended then and there.

She wonders why Chaeyoung didn’t fight for you the way she fought for her.

But Jennie doesn’t let herself wander farther away because her girlfriend was already bounding into the room with a wide smile stretched across her face, and Jennie can’t help but smile at the adorable expression that the younger girl wore.

“You did a great job, Rosie!” She praised, using a tissue to lightly pat her girlfriend’s forehead from the sweat that had built up on her skin after her performance. “You looked really great out there.” She adds and the younger girl giggled as she pecked her cheek. ”Well my baby was watching, of course I had to look good.”

Chaeyoung pressed another kiss to her cheek before she had to step away, retouch her makeup just so she didn’t look too tired for the announcing of the winner.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jennie hears before she’s tearing her gaze away from her phone. Chaeyoung offers her a small smile when she takes the seat next to her and the brunette hums softly before shaking her head. “I doubt my thoughts are worth a tiny penny.” She jokes and the taller of the two let out a snort before giving her a playful push.

“Then don’t tell me.” She chuckled and Jennie felt a little lighter with how carefree they could be at that moment. Ever since what happened with you, they’ll admit that their relationship had been rocky, but thankfully they were able to talk through whatever new issues arose.

Jennie went quiet for a while before she rubbed her arm, sighing as she finally spoke. “What made us so different?”

Of everything Chaeyoung expected to come from her girlfriend’s mouth, that was certainly not one of them.

“What do you mean? Who are you talking about?” Chaeyoung asked confusedly and Jennie pursed her lips, unsure how the other would react, but asked anyway. “Y/n. Why was it so easy to let go of her, but not me?”

The name had caused the younger girl to stiffen in her place and Jennie internally cringed when she saw the way her girlfriend’s expression hardened when she looked down. “Why are you bringing that up?” Chaeyoung muttered quietly and Jennie sighed in frustration.

“I know that it’s been months, and maybe you’ve moved on, but I just… I loved her, too. Maybe I still do.” She breathed out while running her fingers through her hair. “Why couldn’t you have fought for her to stay?” She asked, and Chaeyoung hates how her voice sounded so strained, so tired.

Deep down, she knew it was her fault though. Not having you around as much as she wanted, Chaeyoung prioritized Jennie and she devoted all of her time to the latter when she knew that she should have at least tried.

And she knows that she’s guilty. That was why she didn’t see herself having the right to stop you from walking out the door or asking you to come back to them.

“It was for the best.” She knows it’s bullshit, but Jennie wasn’t going to accept that answer, and she knows. “Y/n was right. We were drifting apart, and there wasn’t anything we could have done about it.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been together before I came into the picture, and I could see you were both doing fine.” Jennie retorted with a frown and Chaeyoung frowns, lips pressed together as she leaned back. “Things weren’t working, Jennie. You know that, she knows that. Can’t we just let it go?”

But Jennie wasn’t done. She wanted to know the truth, and she was determined to get it.

“Did you not love her anymore?”

Chaeyoung’s mouth went dry at the question and she clenched her jaw and inhaled sharply, an indication that her girlfriend had, in fact, hit a nerve. “Jennie, pleas-”

“I want to know, Chaeng. You can tell me that you’re done with it, but I’m telling you right now that there hasn’t been a day that I don’t hope to fix what we had.” Jennie stated firmly and the younger girl stared down at her hands as she laid them on her lap.

“Of course not… I never stopped loving her.”

As quiet as her voice may have been, it was enough for Jennie to hear.

..

“Are you ready to go?” Jennie asked while fixing the strap of her bag on her shoulder and Chaeyoung nibbled on her lower lip before nodding her head. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone out. I just hope people can leave us in peace.” She sighed while fixing her mask on and then pocketing her wallet.

As risky as it was to head out, the girls needed a break, and luckily there would be no questions asked if the pair was ever spotted outside. They just needed some air and felt as though they were still humans and not robots.

“We’ll be fine. Plus, the place isn’t going to be crowded, I know a lot of other idols hang out there for some privacy.” Jennie assures with a smile. And even with the mask covering the lower part of her face, the way her eyes crinkle and her cheeks rise is enough of an indication for it.

Ever since their talk, it looked like things were a little easier for the two of them. Despite the nagging feeling at the back of her head, Chaeyoung had been more open with herself. Whatever was going through her mind, she could easily come to her older girlfriend without hesitation anymore.

So giving themselves a chance, the pair decided that a little date outside the dorm would be a good idea.

Though as soon as they arrived, there seemed to already be a handful of people in the area. However, seeing as no one approached either of them yet, the pair proceeded to the counter to place their orders. “I’ll go save us a seat.” Chaeyoung offered when she looked around, wanting to pick a more comfortable and private area, and Jennie nodded her head, beaming.

“Sure thing. I’ll be sure to call you if I need help.” The older of the two chuckled, playfully shooing her girlfriend away and Chaeyoung walks off to reserve themselves a seat. Though as soon as she walks away, the bell above the entrance rings once more and in walked two figures, dressed a little more casual compared to the two Blackpink members.

They linger at the front for a while, looking both giddy and excited, yet there was a nervous glint in their eyes. Exchanging a quick word, confirming each other’s orders, the taller of the pair went to find a table, whilst the brunette walked over to the counter, standing behind Jennie to wait for her turn.

Jennie really should know that eavesdropping wasn’t a good thing. She’s scolded her members countless times when they would do it, either at the company or at award shows. But it was impossible for her not to hear what the woman behind her was saying as soon as she answered her phone.

“Hi!” The brunette cheered happily. “Don’t worry about it! We just got to the cafe, too, so don’t stress.” The girl said dismissively as they took another step forward when another customer had finished with their order.

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you. It’s our treat, remember?” The woman’s voice was a bit husky, yet it was nice to listen to. “I know that you like f/d but I thought that you might like something else - cheesecake, muffin…” The girl had drawled out and there’s a bit of a giggle as their conversation went on.

At the mention of your favorite drink, Jennie let out a sigh, the nostalgic feeling rising when she remembers how you were always seen with one in your hands. Basically everyone knew how much you loved that drink and it worried her how you needed more water in your system instead.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

Jennie isn’t sure what compelled her to talk, but for some reason, the words just fell out of her mouth. A lingering effect you had on her, she thinks. “You know, that’s a really good pick.” She had glanced behind her, only to blink at the familiar looking face.

Though it looked like the girl knew who she was as well, if the panic and awe wasn’t a big give away. “Jennie sunbaenim!” The girl squeaked out and said idol smiled politely while waving her hand. “Have we met somewhere? You seem really familiar.”

The girl cleared her throat, plastering on a smile and laughing lightly. “I, um, we haven’t, but my name is Jinsoul, I’m a member of a girl group called Loona.” Jinsoul introduced herself and Jennie understood why she was so familiar.

The group had been rising in the industry and she remembers an article of both groups together. Though there were far too many of them for her to recall names and faces, she knows that she’s heard the name before.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jinsoul. Also, you seem to have really great taste.” She compliments, but the younger girl merely grinned and shook her head. “Ah, no the drink isn’t for me.” She explains before Jennie notices the slight blush on her cheeks. “I’m here with… friends.”

The way she speaks makes Jennie feel even more nostalgic. She remembers the shyness of having to hide your relationship when people often asked her and Chaeyoung who they were with. Dating someone of the same sex, more so being in a polyamorous relationship, wasn’t exactly welcomed in South Korea.

And with how Jinsoul spoke and acted, it was clear to Jennie that she was with someone who was more than just a friend.

“Ah, friends.” Jennie chuckled, causing the girl’s blush to worsen as she nodded her head. “Well, I hope you and your friends enjoy your date.” She winks and Jinsoul grins bashfully before nodding her head, letting Jenine go as the older idol went to order her and her girlfriend’s food.

The bell of the entrance rings again and you walk in with a slight huff, shrugging off your coat as you look around. But your eyes stop on a blonde woman happily waving her hand, her entire face lighting up at the sight of you that a few of the other patrons of the cafe can’t help but look over.

One of them being the Park Chaeyoung who sat a good two tables away. But with her choosing a little more secluded area, you had completely missed her as you jogged over to the waving woman.

“I missed you!” The blonde exclaimed and you giggle when she rises to her feet to wrap you in her embrace, one you happily return. “Hey, you’re the one with the booked schedules!” You shot back as you placed your coat behind one of the chairs and then took a seat, the taller woman having yet to let go of your hand.

You’re unaware of the eyes boring into the side of your head. “I watched your concert, by the way.” You chirped and the other blushes at the mention of it, a pout forming on her face. “So you saw me crying?” She asks and you offer her a light smile. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, Yoohyeon.” You assure her with a squeeze of her hand. “I’ve cried during performances, too. And it was honestly nice to see just how much you care for your members.”

The girl is whining when you shower her with more praises and Chaeyoung isn’t sure how much more she can witness. She’s just a little relieved that Jennie’s come to save her sanity, though confused when she sees the slight smile on her girlfriend’s face.

“They weren’t lying when they said that this was famous for idols.” The shorter woman said as she placed their number on the table and then set her bag down. “I just met someone from that group, Loona? She was really nice.” She says, failing to notice the distracted look on her girlfriend’s face.

It was only when she sat down did she notice how the light haired female’s eyes were looking elsewhere. “What are you…” And when she followed her girlfriend’s line of sight, she felt her throat grow dry and her own eyes widened when they rested on your familiar figure.

She felt herself about to move, but she had to pause when Jinsoul came bounding over to join your table, wrapping her arms around you from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek, one that made you giggle, eyes disappearing as you smiled back at the pair that sat with you.

“You’re here!” She had a childlike glee on her face at the sight of you, matching the one Yoohyeon was already wearing. “I did say I would try to hurry up. Jihyo wouldn’t stop pestering me until I promised them I’d bring home something for them.” You say with a laugh and the other two grin at your remark.

“Well, we can decide what to get them after. Right now, it’s the three of us!” Yoohyeon chirped, having yet to let go of your hand and you nod your head. “Of course. I missed the two of you and I’m just glad that we can finally hang out again.”

“You know, we don’t have to keep waiting for weeks if you just, you know…” There’s a teasing lilt to Jinsoul’s voice and Yoohyeon gives the girl a light shove while you bite your lip to stop the laugh that’s threatening to fall from your lips while your exes could only watch from afar.

They know that you don’t mean it. Hell, you didn’t even know they were there, what more watching you interact with two other idols who seemed to be far more interested in you than simple friends.

“What? You and I know that we’ve been meaning to ask, and you know that I’m going to ask whenever I can.” Jinsoul giggles as she reaches to pinch your cheek affectionately while Yoohyeon lets out a sigh. “You couldn’t have been subtle about it?”

“You can’t be subtle, babe.” That made the blonde whine, giving her girlfriend a pout and you can’t help smiling at their antics. “I’m going to have to side with Jinsoul on that one. You can’t lie to save your life, Yooh.” That caused the girl’s pout to deepen as she released your hand to cross her arms, sulking as you both cooed at her cute display.

Chaeyoung had enough. She just wanted to get up, walk up to you, leave, something. But for some reason she felt like she was glued to her chair, forced to watch as you acted as though everything was alright.

But you weren’t pretending.

You genuinely seemed to like these two girls and you didn’t even know she and Jennie were just somewhere nearby. And judging by how Jennie’s conversation with Jinsoul went, she’s making the assumption that you didn’t tell these girls about your past relationship.

“Whatever, but back to what Jinsoul said.” Yoohyeon tries to brush away her embarrassment by returning to the original topic and you let out a little smile. “You guys know that-”

“We know that you said you were scared.” Jinsoul cut you off, her expression thoughtful as she placed a hand on yours. “But I promise you, we won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” She says softly. “I know you’re still wary since your past relationship, but we promise you that it’s never going to be like that.” Yoohyeon assures with a smile that melts your heart, but it somehow makes Jennie’s and Chaeyoung’s hearts sink.

You stare at the two, still looking unsure, and Jinsoul notices when she laced her fingers with yours. “We can keep waiting, if that’s what you want.” Her voice is soft, gentle and comforting, as her thumb runs against the side of your hand. “Even if you decide that you don’t want to be together, then that’s fine, too.” Yoohyeon says while she cupped your cheek, her gaze warm and tender.

“We care about you and that’s never going to change. If there’s a problem, then we’ll talk it out, right?” Jinsoul nods in agreement with her girlfriend as you have yet to say anything, and to be honest, Chaeyoung silently wishes that you refuse their offer.

She knows that she has no right, but she’s hoping that somewhere deep down that you still thought about her and Jennie even with how badly things ended between you. Because even with all that, there was still some good in your relationship before it all went to shit.

Jennie chewed on her lower lip as she tried to desperately look away, but even when her heart was telling her - screaming at her to stop and save herself the heartache, her mind was was stubbornly forcing her to watch just so she doesn’t have to keep feeding herself false hope of being able to get you back.

And sometimes she hated it.

“But what about our members?” You ask, and the two people you were with seemed somewhat relieved that you didn’t shut the idea out quickly like you used to. It gave them the reassurance that there really wasn’t anything wrong with them, but your own fears holding you back.

“Well, the girls love you already, and we met because of Dami and Gahyeon.” Yoohyeon says with a tiny smile, making you giggle because if it wasn’t for the maknae of her group, she’s not sure she would have had the courage to actually come and see you.

“Chuu is in love with you, no questions asked. Haseul adores you, too, because you actually have the capacity to tolerate the kids and keep up with their energy.” Jinsoul says with a grin. “The only people who haven’t properly talked to you yet are Hyunjin and Choerry, but the girls are fans so I doubt that they won’t like you.” She says encouragingly.

“The only thing left is what your members will say.” They add and Yoohyeon purses her lips, only then looking a bit worried. “I know they’re protective of you because of your past, but if they want to talk…” She trails off, letting her girlfriend finish for her. “We can come whenever they want. Even if we have a schedule, we can arrange things to meet them.”

You sat quietly while mulling over their words, four people holding their breaths for two different reasons.

“I mean… I guess we can try.” You finally say with a hint of a smile and Jinsoul’s entire face lights up significantly while Yoohyeon let out the breath she had been holding, though her smile is shy compared to her partner. “Really?”

Your giggle had felt like a knife to the heart for Chaeyoung and she was finally able to pull her eyes away and look at her girlfriend, the pain only growing stronger when she saw the tears Jennie was trying to hold back. If they were anywhere else, she would have already gone and comforted the other woman, but seeing how she refused to look away from your smiling face, she wasn’t sure just what exactly it was she was supposed to do.

Despite it being months, you left a print in their lives, and there would be no changing that.

“We don’t have to tell them right away, but you did let them know that you wanted to ask me out.” You explain with a meaningful look on your face. “As small as that was, they really appreciated the gesture. But Nayeon unnie, Jeongyeon unnie, Jihyo and Chaeyoung aren’t too fond of the idea of me dating again.”

“And we get that. The best we can do is just to prove to them that we won’t hurt you, at least not intentionally. In the event that we do something wrong, we’ll fix it and improve.” Jinsoul states seriously. “It might be a little early, but we promise, we’ll do the best we can to make you happy. Because that’s what really matters.”

You can’t help smiling at the two as you nodded your head, an answer seemingly made in your head as you looked at the two smiling girls. “Then I’ll hold you guys to that.”

Unable to hold their excitement, Jinsoul let out a squeal as both, her and Yoohyeon got out of their seats to trap you into the tightest hug they could both muster, drawing laughter out of your lips as you returned their embrace, breaking your exes’ hearts even more.

“Jennie…” Chaeyoung tried to reach for her girlfriend’s hand, but the latter pulled away, just in time for the waitress to bring their food and she forced a polite smile whilst the Aussie stared down at the table, muttering a quiet thank you before a silence hung over them.

Despite the day starting off on a good note, the sight of you with someone new made the whole thing turn around. Whatever progress the two made, it all came flying out the window the moment you made an appearance and they aren’t sure what to make of it.

But the three of you don’t stick around too long, part of your new girlfriends’ plans on making sure that the chance you had given them would be the best decision you’ve made and that they wouldn’t take it for granted.

Though as you all exited the establishment, you were a little surprised to meet the once familiar pair of eyes that felt like home and the hunched over figure sitting in front of her. While Jennie’s face was curtained by her hair, you knew already that it was her, and with the way Chaeyoung looked, it dawned on you that they were there to witness this new chapter in your life.

And to your surprise, she offers you a pained yet small smile. And while it would usually make your heart clench, you could only muster a kind smile, silently promising her that things will get better for both of them.

They’re left mending the space you left behind whilst you were already on your way to recovering with two people who would make sure to keep your heart whole.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel like it was your fault for picking yourself before them.

[engineering]

How Reblogs Work

The reblog is a beautiful thing unique to Tumblr -- often imitated, but never successfully reproduced elsewhere. The reblog puts someone else's post on your own Tumblr blog, acting as a kind of signal boost, and also giving you the ability to add your own comment to it, which your followers and anyone looking at the post's notes will see. Reblogs can also be reblogged themselves, creating awesome evolving reblog trails that are the source of so many memes we love. But what is a reblog trail versus a reblog tree, and how does it all work under the hood?

A "reblog tree" starts at the original post (we call it the "root post" internally at Tumblr) and extends outwards to each of its reblogs, and then each reblog of those reblogs, forming a tree-like structure with branches of "reblog trails". As an example, you can imagine @staff​ making a post, and then someone reblogging it, and then others reblogging those reblogs. I can even come through and reblog one of the reblogs:

A "reblog trail" is one of those branches, starting at the original post and extending one at a time down to another post. In the reblog trail, there may actually be some reblogs that added their own content and some that didn't -- reblogs that added content are visible in the trail, while the intermediate ones that didn't may not be visible.

You'll notice that the reblog trail you're viewing somewhere (like on your dashboard) doesn't show all of this reblog tree -- only part of it. If you open up the notes on any wildly popular post, you'll probably see lots of reblogs in there that you aren't seeing in your current view of the post's reblog trail. The above diagram shows the whole reblog tree (which you don't see) and the current reblog trail you're actually viewing (in orange). If you want to visualize a post's entire reblog tree, the reblog graphs Tumblr Labs experiment shows off these reblog trees and trails as kind of big floppy organisms. They're a useful visualization of how content percolates around Tumblr via reblogs. You can turn on the experiment and see it on web only right now, but here's an example:

The tiny orange dot is the post we're viewing, and the green line is a reblog trail showing how the post got reblogged along many blogs. And there are tons of other branches/trails from the original post, making dozens of different reblog trails. This is a much larger, more realistic example than my simplified diagrams above. You can imagine that my diagram above is just the start of one of these huge reblog trees, after more and more people have reblogged parts of the existing tree.

Storing Reblog Trail Information

The way we actually store the information about a reblog and its trail has changed significantly over the last year. For all posts made before this year, all of a post's content was stored as a combination of HTML and properties specific on our Post data model. A specific reblog also stored all of the contents of its entire reblog trail (but not the whole reblog tree). If you have ever built a theme on Tumblr or otherwise dug around the code on a reblog, you'll be familiar with this classic blockquote structure:

<p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://maria.tumblr.com/post/5678">maria</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://cyle.tumblr.com/post/1234">cyle</a>:</p> <blockquote> <!-- original post content --> <p>look at my awesome original content</p> </blockquote> <!-- the reblog of the original post's content --> <p>well, it's just okay original content</p> </blockquote> <!-- this is the new content, added in our reblog of the reblog --> <p>jeez. thanks a lot.</p>

This HTML represents a (fake) old text post. The original post is the blockquote most deeply nested in the HTML: "look at my awesome original content" and it was created by cyle. There's a reference to the original post's URL in the anchor tag above its blockquote tag. Moving out one level to the next blockquote is a reblog of that original post, made by maria, which itself adds some of its own commentary to the reblog trail. Moving out furthest, to the bottom of the HTML, is the latest reblog content being added in the post we're viewing. With this structure, we have everything we need to show the post and its reblog trail without having to load those posts in between the original and this reblog.

If this looks and sounds confusing, that's because it is quite complex. We're right there with you, but the reasons behind using this structure were sound at the time. In a normal, traditional relational database, you'd expect something like the reblog trail to be represented as a series of references: a reblog post references its parent post, root post, and any intermediate posts, and we'd load those posts' contents at runtime with a JOIN query or something very normalized and relational like that, making sure we don't copy any data around, only reference it.

However, the major drawback of that traditional approach, especially at Tumblr's scale, is that loading a reblog could go from just one query to several queries, depending on how many posts are in the reblog trail. Some of the reblog trails on Tumblr are thousands of posts long. Having to load a thousand other posts to load one reblog would be devastating. Instead, by actually copying the reblog trail content every time a reblog is made, we keep the number of queries needed constant: just one per post! A dashboard of 20 reblogs loads those 20 posts, not a variable amount based on how many reblogs are in each post's trail. This is still an oversimplification of what Tumblr is really doing under the hood, but this core strategy is real.

Broken Reblog Trails

There is another obvious problem with the above blockquote/HTML strategy, one that you may have not realized you were seeing but you've probably experienced it before. If the only reference we have in the reblog trail above is a trail post's permalink URL, what happens if that blog changes its name? Tumblr does not go through all posts and update that name in every copy of every reblog that blog has ever been involved in. Instead, it gracefully fails, and you may see a default avatar there as a placeholder. We literally don't have any other choice, since no other useful information is stored with the old post content.

At worst, someone else takes the name of a blog used in the trail. Imagine if, in the above example, oli changed his blog name to british-oli and someone else snagged the name oli afterwards. Thankfully in that case, the post URL still does not work, as the post ID is tied to the old oli blog. The end result is that it looks like there's a "broken" item in the reblog trail, usually manifesting as the blog looking deactivated or otherwise not accessible. This isn't great.

As a part of the rollout of the Neue Post Format (NPF), we changed how we store the reblog trail on each post. For fully NPF reblog trails, we actually do store an immutable reference to each blog and post in the trail, instead of just the unreliable post URL. This allows us to have a much lower failure rate when someone changes their blog name or otherwise becomes unavailable. We keep the same beneficial strategy of usually having all the information we need so we don't need to load any of those posts along the trail, but the option to load the individual post or blog is there if we absolutely need it, especially in cases like if one of those blogs is somebody you're blocking.

If you've played around with reblog trails in NPF, you'll see the result of this change. The reblog trail is no longer a messy nested blockquote chain, but instead a friendly and easy to parse JSON array, always starting with the original post and working down the trail. This includes a special case when an item in the trail is broken in a way we can't recover from, which happens sometimes with very old posts.

The same reblog trail and new content as seen above, but in the Neue Post Format:

{ "trail": [ { "post": { "id": "1234", }, "blog": { "name": "cyle" }, "content": [ { "type": "text", "text": "look at my awesome original content" } ], "layout": [] }, { "post": { "id": "3456", }, "blog": { "name": "maria" }, "content": [ { "type": "text", "text": "well, it's just okay original content" } ], "layout": [] } ], "content": [ { "type": "text", "text": "jeez. thanks a lot." } ] }

Got questions?

If you've ever wondered how something works on Tumblr behind the scenes, feel free to send us an ask!

- @cyle 

[elleselanguitsansfin]

Hello all! Just wanted to share a draft for a short story I'm working on at the moment. The 'planets' (cough cough Luna and Sol) are based off of pre-Copernican cosmology, so this is just my interpretation of their characters in a work setting. There's a lot that I want to change but I was curious about what you thought so far!

“Earth!”

Mercury, the memo-boy, comes speeding down the hallway sending papers scattering across the floor. In his hand is a piece of gold note paper, which I know must have come from the boss’ office, which he presents to me as he skids to a halt. “Boss wanted me to give you this. He said it was urgent.” And then as quickly as he arrived, he leaves, tearing down the corridor.

“Jove, what now?” I open the note and read.

Hello Earth! Sorry about the inconvenience, but I need you to do a task for me. A few years ago I gave someone — one of the planets — a package, and I need that delivered to the address below. Unfortunately, I’ve forgotten who it was, but it’s an urgent matter so I was hoping you could ask around for me. I would do it myself, but I’m busy at the moment dealing with administration. Did you hear that the council is planning on revoking Luna’s and Sol’s status as planets, and replacing them with two nobodies called Uranus and Neptune? They’re crazy! Anyways, the sooner you get this done, the better. Thanks!

A mysterious package… Well, I suppose I should go talk to Luna first. She’s my closest friend, after all.

I push past the silver door with LADY LUNA inscribed on a plaque, and step inside the dimly lit room. “Luna?” There’s a bluish glow about, and I haven’t quite figured out whether I find it eerie or comforting.

“Yes?” A soft voice that sounds like tinkling bells echoes throughout the office, and I follow it to find Lady Luna herself in the middle of a pond. She’s standing atop a canoe that looks as though it’s been woven by silver threads, with little blue lights surrounding her head, while stirring the water around her with a long staff. Though I’m not in my office at the moment, I can feel my tides shifting.

“I’ve been sent on a mission. Would you happen to know anything about a package the boss gave you, a few years back?”

Luna looks up from her stirring. “No? Should I?” Her pale face wears a concerned expression, and her fingers dance up and down her staff. It’s a tic she has when she worries about something. Apart from her fingers, nothing besides her long hair and her long white gown moves — I’ve never quite figured that out, there’s no breeze in here.

“No, it’s fine, just trying to find someone.”

Her posture relaxes. “Oh, good. I haven’t heard from anyone but you in a while, actually, I was worried I had missed something.” Though Luna and I are close, she doesn’t talk much with the others. They usually only come to her for therapy, because she’s very calming, but otherwise they avoid her because she also has a little bit of a reputation as a lunatic.

“You haven’t, don’t worry.” Then I think. “Actually, there is a little bit of a concern at the moment… I don’t think it’s something to dwell on too much, you’ll probably be fine, but they’re reconsidering yours — and Sol’s — statuses as planets. I don’t know why, they’ll probably not change anything.” I have no doubt that Luna will keep her position, but I see her face shift and know perhaps it wasn’t something I should have mentioned.

“What?! How could they?! My work is so important! It’s because I don’t talk to anyone, isn’t it? They think all I do is follow you around all the time. I’ll show them! Get out!” Her skin remains the same glowing white as it always does, but her fists are clenched and her face is furious. One of her blue glowing orbs shoots towards me, and I narrowly miss it as I slip out the door.

I love Luna, but her moods are all over the place. You have to watch your words around her.

I walk through the cafeteria with the intention of finding Venus, but Mercury comes whizzing around a corner a little too quickly and knocks us, along with his stack of newsletters, to the floor.

“Hey, watch it!” He sounds mad, but Mercury is much smaller than I am so I don’t really care.

“You should watch it. You’re the one that goes way too fast.”

“Can you blame me? If our maker didn’t want me to go fast, he wouldn’t have given me super speed.” He glances around nervously. “That, and Sol’s chasing me because I stole his favourite paper weight.” He pulls a gleaming golden bird figurine out of one of his many pockets. “How was I meant to know he cared about this bit of junk?”

“If it’s a bit of junk, why take it?”

“I’m a kleptomaniac, I can’t help it. Besides, that’s my whole shtick. If I don’t steal everything, who will? It’s the principle of the thing.

“Right.” A thought occurs to me. “Actually, Mercury, has our boss given you a package or anything to look after? Within the last few years?”

“You do realise that nobody gives me anything if they plan on getting it back, right?”

“So that’s a no. Okay, then, well I’ll see you around then, Mercury! Do you need any help getting those papers?” I ask, pointing to the memos scattered on the floor.

“No, I’ll be fine. See you!”

I make it around a corner before I notice one of my shoes doesn’t feel quite right. I glance down. The lace from my right boot has vanished, somewhere—

I go back to yell at Mercury for stealing my shoelace but he’s already gone, not a single paper in sight.

At the end of another long hallway is an amber-coloured door with a sign reading VENUS. I don’t talk to her a whole lot — we’re quite similar, but she causes a lot of drama in the office and it’s a bit of a pain. You see, the thing is: she’s very, very pretty. By that I mean beautiful, and by that I mean drop-dead gorgeous. Venus has a bad habit of making people fall for her, only for them to get their hearts broken, and I don’t know if she does it on purpose or not but it’s fair for me to dislike her a little bit for that. Right?

I push through the door and the first thing that surprises me is the heat. Admittedly, I’ve never been in Venus’ office before. It’s like walking into a sauna, or a rainforest, or a very humid greenhouse. The second thing that surprises me is the amount of greenery everywhere. The walls and ceiling are obscured by plants in all different shapes and sizes, from tiny cacti to enormous monstera plants. Lying on a chaise in the middle of the room, with a sketchbook in one hand and a pencil in the other, is Venus. A large feather fan flaps furiously beside her, which makes a cool breeze strong enough to ruffle her dark curly hair and occasionally flip the pages she’s trying to draw on. She wears an orange dress that compliments her skin, and it looks like a very fine material. Makes sense, considering how hot it is in here.

I slip off my sweater. “Hey, Venus.”

Venus glances up, and a look of surprise crosses her face. “Earth? What are you doing here?”

“Boss sent me. Do you know anything— gosh, it’s so hot! How can you work in this room?” I wipe my forehead with my arm, and it’s slick with sweat.

“Oh no, come sit here! It’s much cooler by the fan.” She drags me by the arm to her couch, where I immediately feel relief from the temperature. I can see her sketchbook now, she’s working on storyboards for advertisements. Venus has a knack for making things look attractive, hence she’s in charge of advertising and sales.

“Thanks. Do you know anything about a package the boss might have given you? A few years back?”

Venus shakes her head, her frizzy curls bouncing. “No, I’m afraid not. Why?”

I shrug. “He just needs it for something. Don’t worry about it.” I get up to go, but Venus grabs my arm again. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” She hesitates. “You’re so good with plants. You have so many, and they thrive. But I’ve been trying to grow my own and it’s just not working. Are the conditions not right?”

“Oh— well, I think this greenhouse effect is good in theory, but it’s a little extreme and not all plants are suited for these kinds of conditions. Maybe you could set up little areas with different, I don’t know, climates for each? And you could research what different plants need to survive.” I have lots of plants, but they tend to take care of themselves.

“Great, thank you so much! I’ve tried asking around, but nobody really seems to care. Some of the interns are having a competition to see who can get a date first and whenever I try to talk to anyone that’s all that ever gets brought up anymore.” Venus looks both happy with the information but also quite dejected. I never really bothered learning office gossip, I just assumed Venus liked having all the attention.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Venus… if you want, you can find me in my office and we can talk about plants any time you want, alright?” I offer.

She beams. “Earth, that would be brilliant. Thank you.”

I say goodbye, and leave Venus’ room. It seems I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did.

I plan on finding Mars next, but a clamour outside turns my attention to the window. Mercury zips along the path, the same paperweight clutched in his hand as the one he showed me before. Shortly after he disappears out of my line of sight, a tall, bronzed man in a chariot comes racing after him.

“Sol?” I call in surprise.

His chariot screeches to a halt, and Sol turns to me. He says nothing, but beckons for me to come outside. I crawl out of the window, and jog over to where he is. “Hop on, please, Earth. This kid’s messed with my belongings for too long.”

“I— what?” I’m too confused to register what he’s talking about, so he just pulls me up onto the chariot, cracks a golden whip, and the horses with manes of fire pulling the chariot whinny and start their chase again.

“You called me, was there something you wanted to ask?” Sol towers over me, which would be intimidating especially as I know him to have a fiery temper, but he radiates warmth which makes him seem friendly.

“No, sor— actually, yes. Did the boss give you any sort of package to look after? Within the last few years?” It would make sense if he did. Sol is very responsible and one of the more powerful of the planets. However, my guess is wrong.

“No, he hasn’t. He did give me that paperweight, though, and I’d really like it back.”

I laugh. “I’ll talk to Mercury later. Hey, aren’t you meant to be working right now?” Sol is in charge of scheduling, and he has the important role of being the one to chase the night away. It’s not a job that generally has breaks, so I don’t know why he’s out here.

Sol gives a sheepish smile. “I got Luna to cover for me. The eclipse will only last so long, though, so I’m hoping a few minutes will be enough to catch him.”

“Face it, Sol, the boy is too fast for you. Go back to work.” I pat him on the back and he sighs, before bringing the chariot to a slow stop.

“Fair enough. I hope you find who you’re looking for!”

I get off the chariot, and walk back into the building. Conveniently, Sol has dropped me off right next to Mars’ workshop.

Mars has a heavy iron door with his name on it at the entrance to his workshop. Inside is an array of tools and machinery, some of which looks so obscure I can’t imagine what it could be used for. Mars is toiling away at something metal at the other end of the room, which is made evident by the routine CLANG of metal against metal. I have to shout to be heard over the din.

“Hello, Mars!” The clanging doesn’t stop, but he looks up from his work. A few tufts of bright red hair stick out from under an iron helmet. Whether he’s wearing it for protection, or because he just likes armour in general (he’s a soldier every single Halloween), I can’t tell. I realise that if I want to talk to him I’ll have to be beside him, so I cup my ears with my hands and walk up the room.

“Hello” — CLANG — “Earth, what can” — CLANG — “I do for” — CLANG — “you?”

I grab the metal tool he’s using, so I can talk properly. “Two things: firstly, perhaps you could pause your racket just for a moment?”

Mars looks displeased, but complies. “Yes?”

“Thank you. Secondly, has the boss given you any sort of package recently?”

“No.” With that, the work continues, and my hands fly back up to cover my ears to protect them from the deafening noise. I already knew Mars was not one for conversation. He’s like Sol in the way that he’s hot headed, but perhaps he’s more likely to show it, or act on it. He’s usually behind the biggest fights at work, and I know that’s not a rumour because I’ve witnessed it myself. We keep him around though, because nobody is as good at production as he is.

As soon as I’m out of the workshop, I head towards the elevators. Who else could there possibly be? I’ve spoken with Luna, Mercury, Venus, Sol, Mars… what if he forgot? What if he actually didn’t give it to someone, and just left it lying around? I step into the elevator, because I can’t think of anywhere else it could be, and press the button for the top floor where Jove’s office is located.

The doors open with a cheery ding and I stroll through the corridor. It’s easy to see which door is the one I want: it’s wide open, and all around it are golden decorations in the shape of a grapevine. Without bothering to knock, I march through the doorway. “Hello, sir!”

“Oh, don’t bother with that ‘sir’ rubbish. Call me Jove!” Sitting at an elevated desk is a large man, with sparkling eyes and a rosy face. Jove reminds me a lot of Santa Claus, or Father Christmas, in the sense that he’s always cheerful and loves giving away presents. “What’s the matter, Earth?”

“Well, s— um, Jove. Is there any chance you may still have that package yourself? Because I’m sure I’ve asked everyone about it, and I know I certainly don’t have it, so I don’t know where else it might be.”

Jove frowns, a puzzled look on his face, which is so different from his usual friendly smile it’s surprisingly jarring. “Are you sure? Who have you spoken to?”

“Luna, Mercury, Venus, Sol and Mars,” I recite in order.

Jove’s expression changes from a frown to one of understanding. “Ah, I see. I know who has it — makes total sense, really, I don’t know how I could have forgotten. Then again, I suppose you forgot about him too, didn’t you?”

“Who could I possibly have forgotten?”

“Don’t you remember who works in our archives, taking care of everything we don’t immediately need?” Jove encourages.

“I don’t… Saturn!!” My jaw drops, and I am overcome with guilt. How could I have forgotten about Saturn?! I feel awful.

“Don’t worry about it, dear. It’s not that you see him often, anyways. I don’t think he’s been outside for at least a century.”

“Yes, but still…”

Jove gestures towards a tray on his desk. “Have a biscuit, you’ll feel better, and then go and fetch me that package, please?”

I take one, and walk out to go back to the lifts, but there’s an unfamiliar weight in my pocket. I reach into my pocket, and pull out a golden pen, with bands of different coloured metals going around the cap. A sticky note attached reads ‘For taking notes and remembering things’. It’s impossible to leave Jove’s office without a gift of some sort.

I haven’t been in the basement before. It’s cold, damp and dark, and it’s like a maze with shelves full of old files and peculiar artifacts that haven’t seen the light of day for years. I wander around for a bit, and almost walk past a row of shelves when I spot a figure balanced at the top of a tall ladder, leaning against a bookcase. “Saturn? Is that you?” I call out.

The figure turns, to reveal a wizened face with a long white beard. “Yes, that’s me. And you must be Earth.”

“How did you know? I don’t know if we’ve spoken before,” I inquire.

“No we have not, but I know everyone in this building, or has ever been. In fact, I know everything that has ever happened here in all history.”

“Really?”

The old man smiles. It’s a crooked one, but the one of someone who is very wise. “Really. All records are kept here, and I have read every single one.”

That is unbelievable, but perhaps spending so long down here gives you a lot of free time. “Saturn, Jove gave you a package some time ago. Could I have that please?”

Saturn’s face turns to one of knowing. “It is time, then.”

“Time for what?”

He says nothing, but climbs down the ladder and vanishes into the labyrinth. Mere minutes later, he returns with a package, wrapped in Jove’s signature golden paper and tied up with a simple white ribbon. “Take this and follow the markers in bronze to get to the exit. Good luck, Earth.” With that he’s gone again, and I don’t know if he was wishing me luck with leaving or with the package. I follow his instructions and leave the archives, Saturn just as much of a mystery to me as he was before.

The package glimmers prettily in the lights of Jove’s office. Jove welcomes me back with a shining goblet of wine, which now sits precariously on my arm rest, as I am sitting in a chair opposite his desk.

“Thank you Earth, you’ve done splendidly. Now, do you have any idea what this package is?”

“No, I don’t.”

Jove starts to undo the ribbon at the top. “You see, we were hoping we could increase our audience a little bit, but in order to do that we needed to find a place for them to go. I have been conducting some secret research throughout the company and have concluded that you, Earth, are the best fit for this new assignment.” He opens the package fully, and extracts a small box. “This is for you.”

I take the box and open it. Inside is what looks like dirt. “Thank you?”

Jove chuckles heartily. “It is more than what it looks like. From that, you will be the first planet to have people.”

“People?”

“Humans. They’ll learn to live off what you provide for them, and they’ll be full of wild and wonderful ideas that we planets have never come up with before.” His voice lowers. “They may hurt you. They may forget who gave them what they needed and that they wouldn’t be anywhere without you. However, they will be better with you than anyone else and it is a privilege to be able to host life. Not even I have that. Are you willing to accept this assignment?”

My jaw drops, but I close it hastily. “Of course.”

Jove smiles from ear to ear. “Then take the box, choose a place in your office to put it, and see what happens. I wish you luck, Earth.”

With steady hands despite my nerves, I take the box of dirt — people? — and rush back to my office on a lower floor. It’s a calming combination of blue, green and white, and as I scan the room, my eyes fall on a large green area on the floor where I know I’ve got forests, mountains, deserts and ocean. “Africa,” I decide, and place the little box in the middle. There’s a flash, then I feel a tingling sensation, and the box is gone. However, I look closely, and I can see movement that was unlike anything else I had seen before. I was already used to creatures, but never any that were as apparently developed as these. Already they were moving things around and taking parts of plants to make things. Remembering I told Sol I’d talk to Mercury, I decided I could leave my people to their own devices for a little bit. As I slipped out of my office into the coffee room, I made a few plans.

I would treat them with kindness. Hopefully, they returned the favour.

[crackimagines]

For the Child!Blyth AU that you're doing, how would the class and possibly the staff react to Blyth doing something unexpectedly and extremely adorable?

EDIT: Child!Byleth Post Masterlist here!

—–

I can imagine that anyone finding what little Byleth did ‘Cute’ would be met with a face like this from him:

Regardless, I love this prompt!

Thanks for the ask,  merciful-chaos, I hope you enjoy!

—–

Sweet Hearts (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

Child!Byleth Professor AU

It is revealed that the Tiny Professor has never had sweets, or anything similar despite that being a necessity for a child. It’s up to Flayn, Mercedes and Annette to help Byleth with this tragedy.

—–

Byleth didn’t know what to do with freedays. He was so used to working as a mercenary 24/7 and barely had any time for relaxation. Even if it did happen, it was only during the dead of night.

Now as a Professor, he was now able to roam freely on Sunday’s to his heart’s content.

Part of him wanted to grab his stuffed bird (Reference to this post!) and walk around the school for comfort, but he knew as soon as he did, he’d get everyone ‘aww’ing over him.

Plus, some of the students would look down on him for it. Considering he was a professor now, he wouldn’t be allowed the same luxury as before. He had to appear strong, although his height and age did not help at all in that regard.

All the while, Sothis was watching his internal conflict.

(Sothis) “You know, you’re making quite a big deal about carrying that toy. Why not do it? Your age permits it, does it not?”

(Byleth) “No. That would lead to complications with the students.” He replied, albeit he seemed reluctant to leave the comfort of his stuffed bird behind.

Uncharacteristically, he let out a sigh and left the bird on his pillow.

He began walking towards the door and opened it. It was surprisingly quiet, so he decided to go on a stroll.

Byleth made small talk with the house leaders as he passed by and as expected, made sure to bring up the topic of being a tiny professor into the conversations. He tried his best to be respectful, but that didn’t seem to get him anywhere.

So, he decided to visit the dorms and see if there was anyone in this damned academy that would talk to him normally like Jeralt or the mercs did.

Fortunately for him, he just came across Flayn.

(Flayn) “Oh, Byleth-er no sorry, Professor!”

(Byleth) “Byleth is alright on free days like this, Flayn.”

(Flayn) “Well alright then, Byleth! Would you like to accompany me to the dining hall? It’s the lunch hour, so everyone’s heading in.”

He silently nodded and followed Flayn. She talked to him, well more accurately AT him. He was far more focused on the fact everyone began chatting that the two kids being together was adorable.

it’s a shame too, he really did like Flayn, but had no idea how to actually talk to her, leading to the impression the tiny professor had a crush. Which wasn’t true. Probably.

When Byleth and Flayn grabbed their plates, they sat down near an empty table and began to eat.

(Byleth) “…Your plate just has fish.” He said aloud, quite confused.

(Flayn) “Yes, it’s a personal favorite of mine, I can’t have enough of it! Just like sweets!”

His plate consisted of the bare minimum, a bit of meat and veggies, though it’d be more akin to a snack.

He was used to the mindset of sticking by mercenary traditions so if the worst case scenario happened, he wouldn’t be reliant on the ways the monastery changed him.

It was then that he heard Mercedes and Annette behind him.

(Mercedes) “Ah, hello! Is it okay if we can sit here, Professor? There don’t seem to be other seats.”

That was a lie. As he and Flayn walked in, Byleth counted about 4 different tables that were open. 

He probably guessed it was so they can speak more with their ‘little professor’.

Byleth was very thankful that he didn’t quite understand emotions, because he’d be making the biggest pouting face imaginable, which would’ve made the situation worse.

Regardless, he did like the two students. They worked hard and took it seriously, making sure their teammates were okay was the cherry on top. 

He wouldn’t mind having to not deal with their coddling, however.

Before Byleth could say anything, Flayn nodded and motioned them in.

(Flayn) “Go ahead!”

Mercedes and Annette smiled and sat down. 

They also placed a giant plate of steak next to him.

(Annette) “As we were getting our food, we noticed you were eyeing that piece for a liiiitle bit too long! I bet you thought it’d be childish if you went for it!”

Byleth was sure that his inner child didn’t show up like the bird situation. Obviously, that had failed. Because they were completely right.

He hesitated going for the plate, but Mercedes saw it and pushed it closer.

(Mercedes) “Please, do not worry about it! The food here is quite good, and it’d be a crime if the staff didn’t even eat anything that they’d enjoy!”

She had a point. Besides, if Jeralt said if these kinds of actions was acceptable, then why not? Perhaps he was being a bit too cautious for nothing. He nodded in thanks and added it to his plate. Though his face didn’t move, everyone could tell he was quite satisfied.

Once he was finished, he politely put the silverware onto the table and looked at Flayn.

(Byleth) “Thank you very much for inviting me to lunch.”

(Flayn) “Huh? You’re not getting dessert?”

Dessert. Now that was a term he was barely familiar with. He didn’t really have the luxury of sweets as a mercenary, even during his birthdays that wasn’t exactly an ‘always’ thing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he tasted a candy.

(Byleth) “There’s…sweets?”

(Annette) “Jeez, the way you’re talking you sound like you’ve never had them, professor!”

(Byleth) “Actually I…I never-”

All three of them gasped before he could finish his sentence.

He was about to say ‘I never got too many chances to eat sweets’, but of course, Mercedes added fuel to a fire.

(Mercedes) “You’ve never had sweets, professor?!”

All the students from the Black Eagles, Blue Lions, AND Golden Deer turned to face their direction. He could hear the voices now.

“What kinda kid doesn’t have sweets?” “The poor thing!” “I feel kinda bad…”

Byleth honestly considered slamming his head against the table to knock himself out. She had just screamed that out, although he could tell she didn’t mean to. Though…WHY did she have to scream that?

Instead of Byleth slamming his head, Flayn slammed her hands on the table.

(Flayn) “We’re fixing this mistake right away then! Mercedes, Annette! Please fetch the Professor one of your best baked treats!”

(Mercedes) “Right away!”

(Annette) “Got it, let’s go, Mercie!”

They both got up to presumably go to their dorms. Flayn looked at him with the most serious face he had ever seen her have. Though, this was the completely WRONG reason to have it.

(Byleth) “F-Flayn, you don’t have to make a big deal out of it-”

(Flayn) “Yes I do! Even YOU deserve to enjoy yourself time to time!”

(Edelgard’s voice) “It’s true you know.”

Byleth saw Edelgard walk over while smiling.

(Edelgard) “You don’t know what you’re missing, Professor. Sweets can really make your day.”

(Claude) “How about that? Our Professor’s so gone off the deep end, he never got to enjoy things like candy!”

(Dimitri) “Hah, I can’t say I’m surprised to be honest. You should enjoy your youth, professor! When you get to our age, those things become scarce!”

WHY IS EVERYONE HERE!? He shouted to himself.

(Flayn) “Don’t worry, Byleth! Mercedes and Annette are the best bakers here, they’ll fix you up in no time.”

Everyone began to laugh, though Byleth wasn’t. Once again, his stone face prevailed over the embarrassment that was surging forth internally.

(Mercedes) “We have it!”

(Annette) “Here, take it professor!”

It was some odd brown-blackish square treat. It was soft, yet hard at the same time. What the hell was this thing?

(Flayn) “Ah yes, this one is a personal favorite! It’s called a ‘brownie’. It’s made of chocolate!”

(Dimitri) “My my, you two are bringing out the big guns!”

(Claude) “Hey, gotta have the first time be memorable, right?”

(Edelgard) “Well professor, dig in!”

Byleth knew if he refused, they’d force it down his throat. So he swallowed his pride and took a bite of the brownie.

His eyes sparkled upon tasting the brownie. It was the most delicious thing he ever had.

After the first bite, he quickly devoured the brownie. Making everyone’s smile even bigger.

(Claude) “Hey, I think he liked it!”

(Annette) “Oh, thank goodness! My heart was about to stop!”

(Mercedes) “This was our best treat we made, I’m so happy he liked it!”

(Dimitri) “What a relief. Honestly I would’ve said that the professor wasn’t human if he didn’t like it!”

(Edelgard) “Hah, how was it, professor?”

Everyone leaned in for his response, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

(Byleth) “G-Great…”

That brownie had made him lose all senses, and couldn’t really process anything else than wanting another one.

He began to blush a little as he looked down, speaking quietly.

(Byleth) “May…May I have another brownie, please?”

Everyone’s heart melted.

(Mercedes) “Of course! Come Annette, let’s get cooking!”

(Annette) “Right, we’ll be right back, professor!”

(Flayn) “We have now steered you off this dark path! Welcome to the light of sweets!”

Some of the students began clapping while others laughed and went back to their meal.

Claude chuckled and went back to his table while Edelgard and Dimitri did the same.

Flayn stayed with Byleth, and the two began discussing at length about how great sweets were, and of course, were treated to brownies.

Later that night…

Once the high of the brownies wore off, it was then Byleth realized what he had done to his reputation that he worked hard to maintain.

He fell onto his bed, clutching his bird in embarrassment as Sothis floated near him, a smirk growing.

(Sothis) “Oh, how mighty your maturity is, falling to your knees to a mere treat!”

She began laughing as he groaned into the fur of the bird.

Claude, Dimitri, and Edelgard would no doubt spread word to the students. He wasn’t going to live this down anytime soon.

He began to regret everything he did during lunch today. 

Except eating the brownies. 

…Damn it, now Mercedes and Annette have even more of a reason to think of themselves as his ‘Big Sisters’.

He wanted to curse yet thank Flayn for introducing him to sweets now.

[aurora-daily]

Q&A: Aurora builds her army of love on follow-up to ‘A Different Kind of Human’

Interview by Roman Gokhman for RIFF Magazine (October 28th, 2019). Photo by Holly Horn (@ShootintheDirt).

SAN FRANCISCO — Aurora may have played her last American shows for the year, but if the Norwegian pop singer-songwriter realizes her artistic vision, fans won’t have to wait too long to see her again.

That’s because Aurora Aksnes, 23, plans on making an album per year for the next several years, and following a European tour, she’ll be working on her fourth album. Her last two records, 2018’s Infections of a Different Kind (Step 1) and June’s A Different Kind of Human (Step 2), saw the slight, pixie-haired artist take an activist stance. Like the fairy protagonist in FernGully: The Last Rainforest, Aurora’s songs are a reminder to protect what we, as humankind, have left on earth.

“I believe that naturally people are good,” said Aurora, speaking shortly before her performance at Outside Lands. “I believe so much in people; in humankind. I believe we have so much potential to change things. Because it’s only us here on this planet. We have to fix things. No one else will. It’s up to us—every single small thing and every single big thing.”

Aurora’s pop is electronic and orchestral at the same time, with her icy ethereal voice riding atop the blend. It’s distinct. The songs on Step 2 are sometimes a plea, sometimes encouragement and sometimes a warning. On “Soulless Creatures” Mother Earth warns humankind that it’s given too much to us. “Hunger” is about the endless pursuit of power and status that could destroy everything. “The River” speaks to mental health openness and suicide prevention; particular in men, who in many societies are expected to keep their feelings bottled up. “The Seed” is a literal call for environmental protections.

The issues presented are deep, for sure, but not unusual for someone who makes a point attentively to take at least five deep breaths each day.

Part 1 was about finding an internal spark to improve one’s own life and Part 2 is about empowerment to change the world. While Aurora is working on another record in this series, she’s keen to point out that her next LP will be a standalone collection of songs. She doesn’t want to spoil the surprise yet, but said that her fans will understand the following clue:

“It’s just about the fact that everything matters—those two words,” she said.

We spoke with Aurora about her style—it turns out practicality is key—inciting a revolution with her songs, and her appreciation for metalcore music.

RIFF: You have a very unique look when you perform. What does it represent for you?

Aurora: I always wear trousers under my skirts—so I could do a cartwheel whenever I want. Some things kind of started as practical. I cut my hair short because I didn’t like to shower for long and use conditioner—it’s so boring. I cut it short to not have to take care of it. I cut bangs so I wouldn’t get hair in my eyes. I wear pants so I could move around as I want; as a wild person. But I’ve always worn skirts my whole life. I don’t even own a pair of jeans. And these [here she shows off her arm sleeves]; I don’t like the sun, so I wore these to protect myself. But I like the way it looks, so I started using them. So everything has a reason or purpose. … I like old clothes and I like to know who made the clothes. It’s scary these days; when clothes are so cheap and you don’t know who makes it. I find it really scary and really unsettling. So I like to make my own clothes or buy really old ones, so I know where they come from.

That’s one of the central themes on “Hunger.” That song is about our desire and greed for stuff, some of which is made by the poor in other countries in inhospitable conditions. Many of your songs on the last record are about various injustices and problems taking place today. The songs call for action from your listeners. You’re more or less talking about revolution.

That’s a very interesting part of that because I feel like we are so close to a true revolution. As humankind has always done, we are reacting to now to what happened the decade before. We are always reacting to our own mistakes; sometimes in good ways and sometimes in bad ways. … I see people … want to do something. How can I say this without talking for an hour… Social media and the internet and all that stuff has created a very strange sense of value that people have. What means happiness? What means success? These platforms have created a not very realistic or even true standards to how we should behave. It’s narrowing down our minds, and then we don’t see what life truly has to offer. We focus on our own mistakes because we have this small goal that we want to achieve.

Aurora performs at The Fonda Theatre in Los Angeles on Feb. 20, 2019. Julia Kovaleva/Staff.

What can people do to combat that?

I believe that naturally people are good. … I think it also appeals to us because it makes people happy to care about something bigger than yourself. It gives another bigger sense of purpose, and I think it’s really good for people to have that and to be reminded that we are part of something. We’re part of a whole family of equal-minded people that want to be good. That’s what’s inspiring to me, and I want to write music to remind people. I don’t like to be preaching. I think people know it already but they just need to be reminded of it. … People do care about their families, for example. They are kind and do anything for their friends. But I think we are meant to do everything we can for everyone and everything.

Have you gotten a chance to talk to fans about how they have connected with A Different Kind of Human (Step 2)?

Yes, I have! They are very happy and very encouraged and empowered by it. I wanted to make an album … to make people feel empowered; to make them feel like they can face everything and impact everything with their own mind and potential. It’s been very fun to see how natural it is for me and all my fans to care about the world; to be invested in something that is very important and something that will even affect the world after we’re gone. I believe that music can save the world; it can! The only thing we need to save the world is that people [need to be] awake, that they see, and that they act. And I see that [fans] want to save the world with me. I can’t do anything alone.

What sorts of things are you writing about right now?

I’m working on two albums, but one is longer into the future. The whole album concept always comes to me first, and then I write the songs. So I have two now, but I know the other one the world is not ready for yet. I need to wait five, maybe four years for that.

What’s the closer one?

The next one is its own album. It’s not connected to Step 2. It has its own story. The perspective is much bigger. It’s still quite political, and it’s still quite opinionated. And it’s also very emotional. It’s even more about the individuals that make the army. It’s an album for every individual within the big army of love.

I’ve heard you’re a fan of really hard music; how’d that happen, besides the part of the world from which you came being big on metal?

Yes. I like that it’s so extroverted, and it’s very primitive to me. But it’s also very intellectual. I love the way they make many different types of music into heavy metal. Some people … think it’s noise. But it’s not noise if you love it. I love the arithmetical part of heavy metal. As you can hear, sometimes, in my songs; the percussive parts. And it’s almost like jazz. I like the way it’s complicated but in an instinctive way. It’s just pure.

What are your interests outside of music?

I paint a lot with oil. I painted a cover for a song I have called “Forgotten Love.” It’s an orange self-portrait of myself. And I love to make food, but for me. I don’t like to make food for other people. I like to make food for one; a tiny portion of goodness. And I like to just be with myself. I love to read, and I like to be quiet a lot.

[emospritelet]

Honourable Members

This is partly the fault of @thestraggletag for this post and the subsequent dream I had.  It’s also the fault of Bobby for posting pics of his new project.  I know I said I wouldn’t post it until it was done but I am weak.  Should be a three-parter.  Part two is almost done.  See AO3 re the fictional political parties and Government departments.  Sorry about the title: I am a child :)

AO3 link

If there was one thing Robert Sutherland hated more than any other, it was giving interviews to right-wing lifestyle journalists.  He’d had to suffer through many an indignity in his working life, but relatively little of that life had been under public scrutiny.  He had had what was diplomatically described as an inauspicious start in life, but had developed an interest in politics after becoming a union representative at the factory where he had started work at sixteen.  Coming to Westminster as a backbench MP had opened his eyes to the reality of trying to represent the people he served in a place rife with deep divisions and party infighting.

One of the hardest lessons he had learned was that honesty and integrity did not automatically lead to political success.  A less surprising, if more irritating realisation, was that once you made it to the House of Commons, and especially to the front benches, it was open season on your private life as far as certain sections of the press were concerned.  He thought that it was probably fortunate that he had gotten divorced five years earlier, before becoming leader of his party, but it didn’t stop the speculation about potential love interests. Since leading his party through a successful election campaign, ousting the British Unionists from power in a crushing victory and entering 10 Downing Street, the interest from the press had only grown, and with it the amount of salacious gossip that he tried hard to ignore.

He supposed it was hardly surprising; he had been single since the divorce and happily so, but a vacuum always tempted people to fill it with their own rumours.  His Principal Private Secretary, Carrie de Ville, had assured him that giving interviews to publications such as Green Space would improve his polling amongst right-wing middle class women, but he was beginning to wonder if the current discomfort he felt was worth it.

The current subject of his disdain, Ms Tamara Finlay-Warburton, was perched on a chair in the White State Drawing Room, a porcelain cup of tea steaming in its saucer on the table beside her.  The red-haired woman had been servile to the point of revulsion, but there was a predatory gleam in her blue eyes that told him she was in no way to be trusted.  10 Downing Street’s resident cat, Arthur, had taken one look at her and scurried off, and he considered that a black mark against her character before she had even opened her mouth.

“So,” purred Ms Finlay-Warburton, tapping her pencil on her notebook.  “Still unmarried, after all these years. It must get lonely, having no one to share your success with.”

“Can’t say I’ve thought about it,” he said.  “A little too busy with matters of state.”

“So there’s no special someone?” she pressed.  “No dirty little secrets? We’re all aware of how indispensable your secretary is.”

“Yes, Carrie is my right hand woman,” he said honestly.

“So there’s no sexual tension there?”

He blinked at that.

“Uh - no,” he said.  “Our relationship is very professional.”

“But so many relationships start in the workplace, don’t they?”

“That may be true,” he said, feeling his irritation grow.  “But she’s already married.”

“Well, it’s not as though that’s a barrier to anyone these days,” she said airily. “You can imagine the opportunities for gossip, I’m sure.”

“Did you do any research before this interview?” he asked waspishly.  “She’s married to a woman!”

“Oh.”

She looked momentarily stumped, and shuddered delicately, as though Carrie’s private life was somehow distasteful.  It made him dislike her all the more.

“Well, I did a piece on her last year,” she said.  “I must have forgotten that, but then I was concentrating on her time at university.  Quite the wild thing in her youth.”

“I couldn’t care less what she got up to,” he said, reaching for his tea, and counting down the seconds until the allotted fifteen minutes was up.  “She’s extremely competent.”

“So, no sparks flying from that direction,” she said vaguely, scribbling in her notebook.  “Of course, the other rumour is that you’re having an affair with the intern.  Comments?”

Sutherland almost spat out his tea.

“Alice?”

She sat forward, pale eyes gleaming.

“Why so surprised?” she purred.  “Pretty young girl, blonde curls, all that energy and innocence of youth.  A little odd, by all accounts, so she probably needs taking under your wing and protecting.  Plus, I hear she’s always pulling your tie straight and dusting your shoulders.  Rather familiar for a mere minion, wouldn’t you say?”

“I can assure you she’d think the idea of the two of us sleeping together both hilarious and revolting,” he said tersely.  “And don’t ever call her a minion in my presence again.”

“Ooh, looks like I touched a nerve,” she said, with a smirk.  “No need to hide your office romance from me, Prime Minister.”

“I’m not,” he snapped.

“And why should my readers believe that?”

“Because I’m a massive lesbian!” announced Alice cheerfully, breezing into the room with a leather folder in her hands and her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders.  “Going from what you write in that magazine of yours, I’m probably at least partly responsible for the decline of society, but I have to say I’m having a lot of fun with it.”

Ms Finlay-Warburton looked as though she’d bitten something sour, and sat back as Alice leaned over to place the folder in Sutherland’s hand.  Alice grinned and leaned closer, making her shrink almost into the cushions of the chair.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Alice pleasantly.  “You’re so not my type.  I did put my nasty gay hands all over the biscuits though, so I hope you didn’t eat any.”

Sutherland bit the inside of his cheeks to hide a smile, and she winked at him.

“Carrie said to tell you that the car will be here in a moment, sir,” she said.

“Thank you, Alice.”  He stood, tugging his cuffs straight.  “Ms Finlay-Warburton, you must excuse me. Prime Minister’s Questions, you know.  Ms de Ville will show you out.”

He strode out of the room, wanting to sigh with relief, and made it to the waiting car without incident.  It idled outside Number 10, the engine purring as they waited for Carrie to emerge with his briefcase.  She appeared in less than a minute, sharply-tailored charcoal grey trouser suit and white silk shirt beneath a gleaming bob of blonde hair.  She slid onto the back seat beside him, setting the briefcase between them, and the door thumped shut before the car pulled away. Sutherland slipped the leather folder into the case, and Carrie looked at him with some amusement.

“I hear the interview went well,” she said wryly.  “She seemed not to want to shake my hand, so I can only assume she’s remembered I’m a raging homosexual.”

“I don’t understand why you delight in inviting bigots to interview me.”

“Oh, it’s fun,” she said airily.  “They’re always the easiest to offend.  Besides, it’s a section of society in which you need to improve your polling.  You’re falling down with the ‘traditional family values’ mob.”

“I don’t need the support of intolerant arseholes,” he said sourly.

“Now now,” she chided.  “That’s not the attitude to take.  Their votes are as good as anyone’s.  And not all of them are like Ms Fanny-Wobblebum, I assure you.”

“Bloody gossip-monger!” he grumbled, running a hand through short, greying hair.  “She could have asked about the new policy on free childcare or the money for women’s support services, but instead it’s a bunch of bloody shite about work-based romance!  Are they expecting me to be shagging half my staff?”

“Probably.”

“Well, they’re in for a disappointment.”

“Oh, they’ll just make something up, you know how it goes.”

“They’re welcome to.”  He sat back with a sigh.  “Any idea what’s coming up in PMQs?”

“Other than the usual?” she asked.  “Nothing I’ve heard. We’re as prepared as we can be.”

“Good.”

x

The Commons was in excellent voice, the benches filled with MPs, almost all of whom were awake and contributing to the noise.  Sutherland tuned it out, tapping his fingers on the papers in front of him, the crisp white cuffs of his shirt just visible above the sleeves of his black suit.  He knew the contents of his papers by heart, but having them there was useful nonetheless, allowing him to collect his thoughts when necessary. Prime Minister’s Questions was in full swing, and having delivered a ringing endorsement of the government’s economic record in response to a question from his own side, he was waiting for the resulting shouts of derision and braying cheers to die down before the first of the questions from the Opposition back benches.

“Miss Belle French!” bellowed the Speaker.

Sutherland’s brow crinkled for a moment. French, French.  Ah, of course.  New Liberals.  Just won the by-election in Avonleigh.  Carrie says she’s one to watch.

“Thank you, Mr Speaker.”

He glanced around, trying to see where the voice was coming from. There. God, she’s tiny!  A young woman was standing in the top right of the rows of benches.  Small and pale, with deep red lips and chestnut hair tied neatly back, she was dressed in a very respectable dark blue dress and jacket.  She was perhaps five feet four, although his guess could be off by an inch or two, depending on how high her heels were. She was also incredibly pretty, but he did his best to ignore that fact.

“Mr Speaker,” she began, “last week in my constituency of Avonleigh, I received some truly shocking news regarding Government contractor Wolsingham plc and its negligent attitude to its waste treatment facility.  It appears that waste material from the production plant bordering my constituency has been leaking out and is in danger of polluting the water supplies used by local farmers.”

A familiar noise rose in the House, a booming chorus of denials from the Government benches, and roars of support from the Opposition.  Sutherland wanted to sigh. Questions about Wolsingham plc were inevitable, he supposed; nothing stayed secret for long in politics, but he had hoped to avoid the issue for a little longer.

“Rumours have also spread,” she went on, “that the company itself is failing and that its assets are being sold off piecemeal while it destroys the land around it!”

The noise had increased to a roar, the odd bleating noise from some of the older politicians, order papers being waved.

“Having - having made some enquiries—” Miss French was having to shout to be heard over the din.  “—I was shocked to discover that not only was Wolsingham plc fully aware of the pollution, but had done - had - had done—”

The clamour from the House had reached a level loud enough to drown her out, and she bit her lip, clearly frustrated.

“Order!” shouted the Speaker, calming the noise somewhat.  “The Honourable lady must be allowed to put her question!  Which I have every hope she will do very shortly, rather than treat us to a lengthy speech!  Miss French!”

“Thank you, Mr Speaker.”

She was still looking frustrated, and Sutherland sensed that she would abandon the speech, ask her question and be done.  Good.

“My constituents are concerned that special interest groups may be influencing Government policy regarding Wolsingham plc,” she said. “Particularly in respect of their continued breach of environmental legislation, and the company’s future financial viability. What assurances can the Prime Minister give me to take back to my constituents that their concerns are being addressed?”

Sutherland nodded as he stood up at the despatch box, catching her eye. She was staring at him with a strange mixture of caution and hope.

“Let me be amongst the first to welcome the Honourable lady to the House,” he said.  “I trust that she will serve her constituents well, and the country as a whole. This Government is - aware - of the reports of which she speaks, and I can assure her that they are being looked into.  A statement will be made in due course.”

He sat down to indicate that he was finished, shuffling the papers in his hands. Miss French was bouncing on her toes, mouth opening and closing and looking outraged, but the Speaker called another name, and she was forced to sit down, her face like thunder.  Sutherland tried to put her out of his mind as he listened to a question from his own side. A pity she had chosen to raise the bloody subject today, but there it was. No doubt the press would now start digging around, and the whole shit show would be wide open for all to see before they could get everything sewn up.  New MPs.  Always so bloody idealistic.

Once PMQs was over, he gathered his papers, slipping them into his briefcase before stepping away from the despatch box.  There was to be a debate on renewable energy, but he left the Environment Secretary to make the Government’s arguments. Carrie was waiting for him in the lobby, foot tapping impatiently on the stone tiles.  She flicked her hair out of her eyes and arched a brow at him as he left the chamber.

“Well, that was reasonably successful,” she said, taking the briefcase from him and shoving it at one of her assistants as they began walking.  “I thought we might go through the preparations for the President’s visit after your four o’clock.”

“Yes, fine,” he said.  “I believe her wife is coming too?”

“So my counterpart across the pond tells me.”

“Good.  We’ll host them at Chequers, but I’ll leave any decisions on menus and entertainment in your hands.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Prime Minister!”

He wanted to sigh as a clear voice cut across the lobby.  Miss French.  Of course.  He kept walking, shoes ringing on the gleaming tiles.

“Prime Minister, if I might have a word?”

She trotted up beside him, but he didn’t slow his stride.  Carrie looked at her somewhat askance, but said nothing.

“What is it, Miss French?” he asked dismissively.

“My question about Wolsingham plc,” she said, her voice impatient.  “You completely shut me down!”

“No, I gave you an answer,” he said.  “Just not the one you wanted.”

“I told my constituents I would raise the matter with you personally!”

“And so you have,” he said, and turned away from her to Carrie, who was watching him with an amused glint in her eyes.  “Carrie, can we fit Mr Llewellyn in before six, do you think?”

“I could find ten minutes in your diary, sir, no more.  And even that would be a squeeze.”

“Do that, then,” he said.  “If you can get one of your staff to prepare a one-page briefing paper beforehand? I’d rather not go in cold.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you.”

They walked on, and Miss French trotted to keep up.

“Prime Minister, might I schedule some time with you to discuss my concerns?” she asked, and he glanced across at her.

“Put your question in writing to Ms de Ville, Miss French, if you’re unhappy with the answer I gave,” he said impatiently.

“It wasn’t an answer!” she retorted.  “It - it was a fudge! You didn’t tell me anything!”

“As I said, put any further requests to my secretary in writing,” he said.

“A letter?” she scoffed.  “Should I sign it with a quill pen?  This isn’t the nineteenth century!”

“There are still protocols to follow, as you’re well aware,” he said.  “I’ve already said we will be making a statement in due course, and I have nothing further to add at this time.”

He walked on, the entrance looming in front of him, spring sunshine spreading across the tiles.  He could hear the rapid click of Miss French’s shoes as she sought to keep up with his stride, and rolled his eyes as they stepped out into the warm spring sunlight.  The press pack waited some way beyond, cameras clicking and flashing, reporters waiting with mikes outstretched, and Miss French was still at his heels like an insistent terrier.

“Prime Minister, I really don’t think you understand how worrying this is for my constituents,” she said, a little breathlessly.  “If we could just sit down to discuss the matter, I’m sure we could—”

Sutherland stopped abruptly, spinning on his toes to face her as he finally lost patience.

“Miss French, are you deaf or merely stupid?” he snapped.  “For the last time, I have nothing to say to you regarding Wolsingham plc and this will remain the case until the Government delivers its official statement on the matter!”

She stared at him, strands of chestnut hair buffeted by the wind.  Her eyes were wide and very blue, her cheeks smooth and pale. She had full lips, painted with a deep red lipstick that outlined them perfectly.  They were slightly parted in shock at his outburst, but there was also fire in her eyes, something he recognised well from his own youth, when he had been filled with ideals, with the desire to do good.  It made him feel old and irrelevant. An ancient political dragon, facing a young would-be slayer, Chosen One of the people. Oddly, it also made him want to stand his ground, to roar and belch out flames one last time to protect what he hoarded.  Instead, he tried for a more measured, dismissive approach. The young firebrand was gone, after all, mellowed by the years into the elder statesman.

“Put your concerns in writing,” he said, more calmly.  “Ms de Ville will bring them to my attention as she sees fit.”

Miss French worked her jaw a little.

“I thought at least you might hear me out,” she said.  “I’m aware you were born and raised in a deprived community, you must know how dependent my people are on the land around them, and—”

“I got where I am by knowing how to pick my battles,” he interrupted. “Something you appear to have no concept of, but which you’ll learn in time, I have no doubt.  If you want to be anything other than a voice in the wilderness, you need to learn how to bend in the wind, follow protocol, and understand that sometimes progress happens in ways you may not always like.”

“I came here to serve my constituents!” she protested, raising her hands and letting them fall.  “To give a voice to those who can’t speak out for themselves, to - to help people!  Not to become part of the problem!”

“Enjoy your time on the back benches, then,” he said, his tone dismissive. “Spend time in your constituency, and leave the politics to those of us who are in touch with reality.  While you’re listening to tales of woe and patting shoulders and kissing babies, you’ll become increasingly irrelevant.”

She opened her mouth angrily, but he cut her off.

“You’re not part of some Borough Council anymore,” he said scathingly.  “Time to grow up. See the big picture.”

“Don’t patronise me!”

“Don’t act like a child, then.”

She took a step towards him, eyes flashing with the light of challenge.  It was giving him a tiny thrill, a tight ball of fire in his chest that was sending a pulsing trail of heat down to his groin.  No one had dared to get in his face to this extent for years, instead shouting their insults from across the benches or making sly comments about his alleged incompetence to the press.  To have someone go toe-to-toe with him outside the Houses of Parliament was almost exhilarating.

“So, one little push back from a woman, and the misogyny surfaces,” she said, in a flat tone.  “Why am I not surprised?”

“My assessment of your behaviour is based on your inexperience and current attitude, not your gender.”

“And you want to teach me a lesson, is that it, sir?”

Oh, his mind did not need to go there!  He yanked it back before his imagination could cause too much mischief.

“I have every confidence that your peers will do that, Miss French,” he said coldly.  “Do us all an enormous favour and try not to get above yourself in the meantime.”

“If you think you can pat me on the head and shut me up, you’re mistaken!”

He smiled at that, knowing how it would irritate her, and was proven right as her glare intensified.

“Well, I must say this passion is admirable,” he drawled.  “But ultimately pointless.  Political naivety may play well in whatever backwater constituency you managed to claw your way into, but in Westminster it’ll get you eaten alive.”

“I have no intention of - of letting you eat me!” she snapped.

A faint blush had risen on her cheeks, and he felt an odd lurch in his belly as his active mind helpfully provided an alternative meaning for that phrase.  She was glaring at him, eyes shooting blue sparks, chin raised as though she would bite him.

“Then take my advice,” he said.  “Pick your battles. Fall in line. And wait your bloody turn.”

“So, they got to you, too?” she said bitterly.  “I might have known. I knew there had to be some reason everyone’s lips are sealed.  Wolsingham has his dirty little fingers in every political pie going, it seems to me.”

As fascinating as she was, Sutherland had had enough.  He raised an admonitory finger, leaning in as his eyes bored into hers and she met him stare for stare.

“You’re new here, Miss French,” he growled, his accent thickening.  “So I’m gonna let that one slide. You ever question my integrity again, and you and I are gonna have a problem, understood?”

She swallowed, sudden fear in her eyes.  It was gone almost as quickly as it had come, her jaw tightening as she faced him down.  Really, she was magnificent. There were flashes in the air around them, the click of cameras, and he wanted to groan as he remembered they were in the sights of the entirety of the Westminster press.  At least they were out of reach of any microphones, he supposed. He leaned back, swallowing his anger, and nodded curtly.

“Good day, Miss French.”

He turned on his heel, Carrie side-eyeing him before following him to the car. Reporters clamoured, questions being fired at him, but he ignored them all, slipping onto the back seat and staring straight ahead as Carrie got in on the other side.  The door closed with a heavy thump, and the sounds of the waiting press were cut off immediately. Thank God for armour plating.

“Well,” said Carrie, as the car pulled slowly away.  “That was - bracing.”

She sounded highly amused, and he decided to change the subject before she could start teasing him.

“Who’s next?” he asked.

“Lunch first,” she said promptly.  “Then I thought we might go through the Select Committee papers before tomorrow.  And you have a four-thirty with the Chancellor.”

“Fine.”

Sutherland sat back as the car headed for Downing Street, trying to ignore his thumping heart.  Miss French was a mouthy nuisance, to be sure, and he wanted to put her from his mind, but the encounter had made him feel more alive than he had in years.

x

The heavy tick of the clock on the wall showed that it was after ten, and Sutherland pinched the bridge of his nose to clear his eyes.  A large tabby cat with white socks was settled comfortably on a pile of discarded papers to his left, purring contentedly. Arthur’s job was supposedly to catch mice, but he seemed to spend most of his time sleeping as far as Sutherland could tell.  He didn’t mind that too much; he liked cats, and it was nice to have a little company in the evenings when he finally stopped working. He scratched Arthur’s ears, receiving a nuzzle in response, and set the final document aside just as Carrie entered.  She had a glass of whisky in one hand, a pile of newspapers in the crook of her arm and a wide grin on her face.

“Well, at least you made the front page.”

She dropped the first editions of the next day’s papers on his desk, startling the cat into a standing position. He lashed his striped tail before settling down again, tucking his feet under as the top newspaper—a copy of The Sun—slithered off the pile into Sutherland’s hands.  A picture took up almost the entire page, a close-up of he and Miss French practically nose to nose, glaring at one another with every ounce of the mutual disdain they could muster.  The headline above, in thick red letters, shouted GET A ROOM!

Sutherland groaned under his breath as Carrie chortled, and despite himself he read the opening paragraphs of the drivel masquerading as an article. Sparks flew this afternoon outside the Houses of Parliament as Avonleigh’s stunning New Liberal MP Belle French went toe-to-toe with the PM!  Petite brunette Belle (29) let Sutherland have it with both barrels! You could cut the sexual tension with a knife, and your Sun reporter wonders how they might break their deadlock outside of a bedroom!  Policy difference or lovers’ tiff? See more on page 2! Pages 4 and 5: Belle French - bombshell or bitch?

He tossed the paper aside in disgust, and Carrie caught it, grinning at him.

“Now now,” she chided.  “Don’t blame the press for the stories they cover.”

“It’s The Sun,” he growled.  “One flash of a pretty woman’s legs and they collectively lose their tiny minds.”

“So, you think she’s pretty?”

“Please tell me she didn’t give an interview,” he sighed, ignoring her question.

“Not that I can see,” she said.  “But the two of you made the front of every tabloid there is.  Even pushed the latest horror story about a new Ice Age off page 1 of The Express.”

“Wonders will never cease,” he remarked.

“I expect she might use the sudden interest to publicise her concerns over Wolsingham, though.”

“Well, that can’t be helped,” he sighed.  “It’s all gonna come out soon, anyway. However things go.  Did we hear anything from DII?”

“Talks still ongoing with potential administrators.”

He grunted.  Lengthy talks about financial viability never boded well, in his experience.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, looking the paper over.  “They’re not wrong. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”

“Fuck’s sake, Carrie…”

“I’m teasing.”  She rolled up the paper and swatted him with it.  “I’m sure your intentions are completely honourable.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, hers might not be…”

“Can we leave Miss French out of this?” he snapped.  “Is there any actual news I need to hear?”

“Apparently William Hill’s have slashed the odds on you getting married during this Parliament to seven to one.”

“Carrie!”

“Alright, fine!” she sighed.  “The Guardian didn’t mention the spat; however, they have picked up on the precarious position of Wolsingham plc and are starting to put feelers out.  You have a nine o’clock tomorrow with the Minister. There’s a briefing in the folder at the bottom of that pile.”

“Thank you.”

“The Telegraph, Independent and Financial Times are focusing on the prospective deal with the US, unsurprisingly,” she said.  “I thought we might release the President’s proposed itinerary tomorrow.”

“Yes, fine,” he said absently.  “Are we expecting any protests?”

Carrie snorted, setting down the glass of whisky.

“Since that bigoted, racist disaster was ousted and thrown in jail, public perception of the White House has improved greatly.”

“Not wholly surprising,” he remarked, and she nodded.

“A few small groups have requested permission to march,” she said.  “Mainly pacifists, anti-capitalists and anti-pharma, nothing to cause any real disruption.”

“Fine,” he said, pushing the pile of newspapers away and sitting back in his chair.  “Go on, get home. I’m sure Ursula would like to see some of you this week.”

“I’m sure she’d like to see all of me,” she said, with a wink.  “Are you sure? I can stay if you need my input on anything.”

“Go home,” he said firmly.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.  “Don’t stay up all night.  And try not to let the gutter press give you nightmares, hmm?”

“Would you bugger off before I change my mind?”

She swept out, chuckling, and he sighed, reaching for the glass of whisky she had brought him and sitting back in his chair.  It wouldn’t hurt to take a break. There were some papers he wanted to look through, but nothing that needed his immediate attention.  He sipped at the whisky, enjoying the smooth burn on his tongue, the warmth of good alcohol and the taste of honey, peat and smoke.

The image of Belle French kept swimming to the front of his mind, blue eyes sparking with anger and passion, and he scowled to himself, shoving the memory away.  So what if she had intrigued him? She had all but accused him of impropriety in respect of a Government contractor. The fact that her claim was bollocks was beside the point; she had no business throwing around accusations with the press pack just out of reach.  He recalled that Carrie had caught some of her campaign on a visit to Avonleigh, and had been impressed with the dedication and passion she had seen, but if Miss French was to succeed, she would need to learn to bend a little. She wouldn’t last long in Westminster if she couldn’t rein in her clearly impulsive nature.  Her fellow MPs would soon steer her right.

He shook his head, wondering why he was wasting time thinking about her future.  It wasn’t as though they would be working together, and she was on the Opposition benches, if not in the official party of Opposition, so hardly likely to be looking to him as a potential mentor.  Even if she was, the woman was clearly wet behind the ears and he didn’t have the patience to deal with that level of inexperience. Besides, it was unlikely they would cross paths unless he wished it; as a new back-bencher she had been lucky to get to ask a question at PMQs.  There would be no reason for him to have to endure her impertinence again.

He drank the last of the whisky, putting down the glass with a clunk and making the rare decision to go to bed at a reasonable hour.  Arthur seemed to sense that he was making a move, and stood up, stretching paws in front of him and curling his tail over. Sutherland petted him, pushing back his chair and heading for the door, the cat sauntering in his wake as he prayed for a decent night’s sleep, free of dreams of fiery young blue-eyed goddesses with perfect lips.

[forevermyalwaysphff]

Chapter 4

A/N: Hello! I am so happy to share this next chapter with you! I once again apologize for not having it out last week, but things in my personal life have settled down and I was able to get this chapter finished! Please enjoy it xx

     “Hey, don’t worry about today.” Harry tried to cheer Alexa up after hearing her worried tone clearly float over the phone. “Kate is lovely, you have got nothing to worry about.” The prince reassured Alexa that her tour with Kate would go well without any concern.

     Alexa pushed open the tall glass framed doors leading into her work building. “I am sure she is, Harry. I just…” She stopped walking to take a quick glance around the entrance and breathed in deeply. “What if she says something about you. What am I supposed to say?” Alexa whispered her fears to Harry.

     Harry could hear the concern laced in Alexa’s voice. She had confided in Harry last night while they were talking on the phone that his sister in law, the Duchess of Cambridge, was coming to her work for a private tour and was interested in becoming a patron of Guardian. It was obvious to Harry that Alexa was nervous about the whole encounter.

    “Hey…” His voice grew soft and quiet with understanding. “It’s going to be fine.” Harry sweetly assured her the best he could. “Well I haven’t exactly told anyone about you, really… so she won’t bring it up.”

    “I know.” Alexa waved to a coworker who had entered the building before casually looking away to not bring any further attention to herself. “I haven’t even told Eugenie that we are going on a date.” She reminded herself of that little piece of information.

    “Listen. Kate knows better than to bring up anything personal while on an official basis so I cannot see her doing that unless it is in private with you. Maybe she won’t even remember you from their party.” Harry sighed, hoping that he was able to provide some sort of comfort to her.

    “Ok.” She breathed out while nodding slowly. “I better get going, Harry.” A smile crept up on her lips as Alexa lowered her head to the ground. “Thank you for listening to me.”

    “Anytime.” Harry smiled before looking up to see his private secretary enter the room with an unpleased expression. “I will talk to you later, ok? Everything will be just fine, Alexa.”

    Alexa walked towards her office replaying Harry’s final words in her mind, hoping that they would ring true.

    Alexa glanced down at her dress and smoothened over the material while adjusting it for the tenth time. She had decided to wear a black long pink and white floral print maxi dress that hung off her body eloquently. Pairing it with silver heels make her look simple yet classy for her tour with the Duchess.

    Grace smiled crookedly, internally giggling at how nervous Alexa was while she stood beside the young blonde patiently waiting for their guest to arrive. “Don’t look so nervous. You will be great!” Grace leaned in and whispered to Alexa as the Duchess of Cambridge was led in with her team from the back entrance to avoid any detection.

    Grace stepped forward and welcomed Catherine to Guardian. “Welcome to Guardian, your royal highness. It is a pleasure to have you visit. We have been greatly looking forward to showing you around Guardian today.” She shook Catherine’s hand with a welcoming smile as the Duchess graceful displayed her elation for the tour.

    “The pleasure is all mine, Grace. I have been looking forward to it as well. But, please call me Catherine.” Alexa stood there silently staring at the Duchess feeling her heart pounding in her chest. She was absolutely beautiful, dressed in a teal three quarter length sleeve dress that hung below her knees. The Duchess exuded a calming presence mixed with an eloquent essence that floated from around her.

    “I would like to introduce you to a few of my staff, if you will.” Grace led her back towards the awaiting group of people behind her first stopping at Alexa.

    “Alexa Grey is one of our social workers here at Guardian.” Alexa looked directly into Catherine’s warm chocolate eyes and shook her hand with a tight grip before dipping into a tiny curtsy out of respect towards the Duchess.

    “Hello, Alexa.” The Duchess smiled down at Alexa brightly.

    “Hello, your royal highness. Thank you for coming to visit us today.” Alexa had mustered as much confidence as she could and warmly welcomed Harry’s sister in law.

     “Alexa will be taking you on the tour this morning and explaining everything we offer here.” Grace continued to explain while Catherine’s eyes lit up in excitement as they turned back towards Alexa.

    “I am much looking forward to it all, Alexa.” Catherine moved down the line giving Alexa a moment to gather her wits. The Duchess appeared very interested learning about the work they were doing at Guardian and greeted everyone with a warm smile.

    “Is there anything that I can get you before you start the tour, Catherine?” Grace offered to the Duchess.

    “No, thank you.” Catherine shook her head. “Everyone here has been so welcoming.”

     “I am very pleased to hear that.” Grace proudly displayed a genuine smile. “Please do ask Alexa any questions you may have. She worked under me when she first arrived here as an intern and knows everything there is about Guardian being one of our longest social workers employed here.”

    “I intend to!” Catherine giggled lightly as she looked beside her at Alexa.

    “Shall we?” Alexa offered the Duchess to lead the way through Grace’s office doors to begin the tour.

    Alexa had taken the Duchess and her private secretary through the basics of what is offered at Guardian giving insight to the issues that they see on a day-to-day basis including the sexual assaults and domestic violence supports they offer to survivors.

    The Duchess and Alexa had sat in on a support group session that allowed Catherine to hear the stories of some woman and their struggles in returning back to a life they never thought was possible. Catherine was able to speak with a few women about their experience and how Guardian has helped them overcome obstacles they would not be able to have faced on their own.

    Alexa walked out of the meeting with a very concerned Duchess. “I had no idea how difficult it was for people to get back their life that was taken from them through all this unnecessary hurt.” Catherine shook her head lightly. “They are so brave.”

    “They are brave and it takes a lot of courage to leave a situation that you think is your only option. But, it is even harder to ask for help to do so. That’s where we come in.” Alexa reassured the concerned Duchess. “We try to assist in all aspects of their life so they have a team behind them to support them along every step of the way whether it is legal, employment, child support, housing or even providing mental health support because their scars are sometimes hidden very deep, not just in the physical sense. It’s an holistic approach to their healing so to speak as one aspect of their life tends to overlap with so many others.”

    Catherine hung onto every word Alexa was saying. “May I ask why you work here? I don’t mean to pry, but it must be difficult sometimes seeing all these women and children affected like this.” Catherine walked along side Alexa in a slow steady step.

    “I don’t mind at all you asking.” Alexa cleared her throat. “It is hard some days, but it is harder not to help I believe.” Catherine glanced up at Alexa and locked in her gaze. “These woman deserve to have a life that is without fear and so do their children. Personally, I do not know what it is like to feel the way that they do and quite frankly I want to be the one preventing it all from happening rather than being part of the solution to pick up the pieces when it has. It’s much more easier to prevent this through education or other means rather than having these survivors have to experience it before they get help and that’s only the ones that seek out help. There are far too many that do not.”

    “How would you prevent it?” Catherine intriguingly asked.

    Alexa laughed lightly. “Catherine, I could take all day explaining that. But, what these women need right now is the solutions and quite frankly I wouldn’t know where to start as its not as black and white. But, that is my hope that one day we move away to preventative actions instead of creating solutions because no matter who you are, you should never have to go through what happens to them.” Catherine simply nodded in understanding.

    “I can see how passionate you are about this place.” The Duchess commended Alexa with a slow nod. “It’s evident why Grace picked you to show me around Guardian. I can feel how involved you are in everyone’s story and the amount of trust they give you is hard to come by especially after what they have experienced.”

    “Thank you, Catherine.” Alexa smiled gratefully back at her. “We really do hope that if you are just as passionate about making real change here, than you would join us in doing so. I can see you fitting in well as part of our team here. We need all the help we can get as there is always more work to do and reaching not just these women, but other populations as well. We just don’t have the resources to do so yet.”

    “Everything about this place seems so special, especially the people in it.” Catherine sighed as she looked around the empty children’s room Alexa had led her too.

    “I know that you are interested in children’s mental health and their wellbeing.” Alexa continued to show her around the room. “Not only do we offer supports for women, we also do for their children as they are affected by it too.” Alexa went on to explain more to the Duchess about the child health programs that include play therapy.

    Having found themselves at the end of the tour, Catherine and Alexa were alone in the hall when Catherine shared a knowing look with Alexa, making her fear innately grow.

    “I knew I had recognized you before when we first met and now I am just realizing that you were at the engagement party the other night.” Catherine’s face lit up with proud recognition. “You are friends with Eugenie, is that right?”

    Alexa simply nodded with a nervous smile. “Yes, we have been friends for a number of years.” She confirmed with the Duchess and hoped to end that portion of the discussion.

    “It was a fabulous party wasn’t it? Perfect weather and the dock bar was amazing in itself! Such an unique touch.” Catherine continued to speak of the memory of that night. “I do remember seeing you with Harry…”

    Alexa’s body froze not knowing how to respond as Catherine caught her off guard. She sheepishly looked around noticing that there was no one around them. Biting down on her bottom lip nervously, Alexa nodded.

    “I was.” Was the only thing Alexa managed to force out regretfully.

    “I won’t pester you for more information.” Catherine reached out and rubbed Alexa’s arm. “I do not want to make you uncomfortable at all. You two seemed like you were enjoying each other’s company is all that I noticed.” She smiled sweetly at Alexa in hopes of getting more of a reaction from the blonde, but she did not. Alexa did not say a word back being afraid to say anything without talking to Harry, knowing that he had not yet divulged the fact that they were going on a date to anyone.

    “Well, I better go have a meeting with your boss and talk to her about what a wonderful place this is. I will be sure to let Grace know that you were the perfect guide and showed me everything that Guardian has to offer and more, Alexa.” Catherine offered her hand and Alexa shook it while remaining quiet.

    “Thank you.” Alexa forced out through the remnants of her blank mind.

    “I hope that I will be seeing you around more often, in more ways than one.” Catherine subtly hinted with a wink before she turned and walked away from Alexa with a mischievous smile making Alexa cringe inside.

    She knows. She totally knows.

    Alexa thought to herself before nearly running back towards her office and shutting her door to decide how to handle this.

    “Hold on.” Alexa cradled her phone between her cheek and shoulder trying to read the instructions on how to put a new dresser together. The delivery guy had dropped it off after her long day at work and left her with an array of pieces and screws. Long story short, she had no idea where to begin.

    “I have no idea where to start with this.” Alexa glanced at her living room floor covered with scattered materials while she spoke to Harry on the phone. He had called her shortly after his engagement ended to see how her day with Kate went.

    “You know, I am quite handy.” Harry boasted through the phone with an arrogant posh tone. “I could come over and help you out.” He kindly offered and tempted the blonde as she felt overwhelmed simply looking at all the little pieces strewn out on her living room floor.

    “You would do that?” She plopped herself down on the sofa and waited for a reply.

    “Of course!” Harry did not hesitate to take Alexa up on the offer to spend more time with her. “I could be over in fifteen minutes, if you’d like.”

    Alexa’s lips tugged into a smile. “Yeah.” She paused. “Yeah I would really appreciate that. Have you had dinner yet?” She thought of a way to repay him for his kindness.

    “No, I have not.” His posh deep voice sounded.

    “Why don’t I make you dinner then? To repay you for your help.” Alexa sweetly informed the prince. “It’s the least I could do.”

    “You don’t have too. But, I will take you up on the offer.” Harry smiled knowing he might be able to get to spend the evening with Alexa.

    “I don’t mind at all. I will see you soon? The buzzer is under my last name, Grey.” Alexa spoke with the prince for the next few minutes before hanging up and rushing to her fridge to pull out something to make for dinner.

    The prince arrived quicker than she had anticipated as she let Harry into the building. A loud knock sounded a short minute later and Alexa skipped to the door and grasped the handle. She took in a deep breath to calm her rapid heart before opening the door to see Harry trying to be incognito in a navy blue ball cap.

    “Hi.” He flashed a toothy grin at the sight of her, evidently happy to see the blonde again.

    “Hey, come on in.” Alexa opened the door wider, allowing the prince to walk into the entrance of her flat. Harry took off his cap and glanced around her flat while she closed the door shut behind him and locked it. “No protection officers this time?” She noticed the prince alone without a trailing man.

    “Not this time. Snuck out on my own.” He grinned mischievously.

    “Thanks for coming. You don’t know how much help this would help me. I am not the average handyman on a good day.” Alexa touched his shoulder, gaining his blue eyes down on her.

    Harry smiled warmly with a simple shrug. “It’s no big deal.” He peaked around and saw the pieces strewn across her floor. “Let’s take a look and see what you got going on.” Harry followed Alexa into the living room and crouched down beside her as she handed him the instructions.

    He took his time reading them and combined all the pieces that fit with one another. “At least you have the proper tools.” Harry pulled a small box towards him and fished through it.

    Alexa stood up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. You can thank my father for that. He always makes sure I have everything, just in case of an emergency.” She started to giggle. “You should see my trunk. It has a full survival kit just in case I get caught in a zombie apocalypse on my way to work.” Her contagious laughter grew as the prince tossed his head back in laughter.

    “Can never be too prepared I guess. He sounds like my father.” The prince hinted as he turned his attention back to reading through the instructions.

    Harry glanced up at the blonde from below and grinned. “Well, this looks pretty simple. But, I will need your help for a few pieces.” He turned his eye back to review the first step.

    “Ok. Let me go put dinner in the oven and then I should be free to help.” She stepped away in her bare feet and tip toed across the floor.

    Harry and Alexa nearly had all of the pieces assembled as they were working on the last one. “Can you hit nail this one in? I will hold it in place.” Harry held the nail steady as Alexa started hitting it slowly with the hammer, careful not to hit the prince’s hand. Throughout the evening she had learned a great deal from Harry about all the different tools and wanted to build at least one piece by herself.

    He moved his finger at just the moment that Alexa was bringing down the hammer, striking it hard. “Ahhhh!” The prince cried out in pain and frightened Alexa as she dropped the hammer instantly to the floor, staring at his red finger while he clutched his hand.

    “OH MY GOD! HARRY!” Alexa apologized profusely and gently grasped his hand. “I am so sorry.”

    “It’s fine.” Harry clenched his jaw together and tried to hide the visible pain etched across his face, taking his hand back away from Alexa.

    “No, you are not. Stop pretending and let me have a look at it.” Alexa sassed back with narrowed her eyes at Harry’s fib, but they grew into a soft gaze making Harry see how awful Alexa felt that she hit his finger. “Please.” Those mesmerizing green eyes brought him in to their depths and made the decision for him.

    “Ok.” He nodded and released his hand from his clutch.

    Alexa gently grasped it and angled her head down and winced after analyzing it further. “I am so sorry, Harry.” She was genuine with her apology that matched her concern expression that grew each passing second. “Let’s run it under cold water and I will get an ice pack.”

    “It’s ok. I will live.” The blonde got to her feet and helped the prince up, leading him towards her kitchen to make him run it under cool water to help with the pain. Alexa opened her fridge freezer and grabbed n ice packing, wrapping it up in a towel.

    “Here, this will help with the swelling.” Harry immediately felt the soothing cold surround his throbbing finger. He really had not planned on making such a big deal about it all for Alexa’s sake, but she was determined to help make it all better.

    “Alexa?” Harry’s soft voice coaxed her concerned green eyes to lift from attending to his finger up to his eyes. “Please don’t feel bad. This happens all the time. Why don’t we finish the last piece and then relax for a bit?”

    Alexa opened her mouth to protest, but Harry’s raised eyebrow silenced her plea. Her dark lashes fluttered closed while a slow nodding of the head. “Ok, but stay far away from me unless you want something else smashed.” The blonde giggled lightly and walked back to the last piece left to assemble.

    “I will sit on the sidelines and watch.” The prince followed in behind Alexa. “Besides, I have thought you well young padawan. Or shall I say young poundawan.” Harry bellowed a deep laughter from his belly, but was quickly met with a set of green eyes glaring at his ridiculousness.

    “That’s not funny at all Harry.” Alexa knelt down to the ground and picked up the hammer. “Dork.” She mumbled quietly, but was just loud enough for Harry to hear her.

    “Uh, did you just call me a dork?” Harry sat down comfortably down on the ground across from Alexa to guide her through the last piece. Alexa’s green eyes peaked up through her lashes and grinned through smiling lips followed by a silent nod.

    “And what are you going to do about it if I did?” Alexa carefully lined up the hammer with the nail, slowly pounding it into the wood. She adorably stuck out her tongue out the side of her mouth to aid in her concentration.

    “Nothing, I’m not ashamed of being one.” Harry watched from afar as Alexa independently finished the piece without Harry’s guidance.

    The proud smile that was plastered on her face as she finished was charming to the prince. “There, all finished.” Alexa placed her hands on her hips with a sense of accomplishment.

    “Well done! Didn’t even need me at all!” Harry commended the smiling blonde.

    “I guess you taught me well then.” Alexa was beaming from ear to ear.

    Neither Harry nor Alexa were ready to finish their unplanned evening together so they decided to relax on the sofa after a long days work and find a TV show they both enjoyed. Alexa made some homemade popcorn and drizzled it with an unhealthy amount of butter that Harry dived into.

    The blonde beauty was keeping a comfortable distance between Harry and her that did not go unnoticed by the prince. Harry’s head turned with a raised eyebrow, eying Alexa until she felt Harry’s gaze on her. Her head slowly turned to find him with an incredulous look on his face.

    “What?” Alexa lightly giggled and bit down on her lower lip, already having an inkling of what the prince was about to bring up.

    “Why are you so far away from me?” Harry’s blue eyes bore into her being.

    “Don’t look at me like that…” Alexa’s voice trailed off into a quiet whisper while her head lowered to avoid his powerful gaze.

    “Come on, come a little closer. I won’t bite you… that hard anyway.” Harry coaxed Alexa’s attention back on him and lifted his arm to welcome her into his space. A brief look of hesitation flashed across Alexa’s face as she internally contemplated her decision. With a tiny sigh, Alexa scooted over towards Harry and cozied up beside him. The two shifted their bodies until they found a comfortable position to relax beside one another.

    “That’s better.” Harry muttered and looked down at Alexa with a growing smile. Alexa’s lips spread into a grin, matching the prince’s reaction.

    Alexa’s head was rested on Harry’s shoulder, silently watching the show giving Harry the opportunity to steal a glance at Alexa. His eyes found themselves taking in every inch of her. It was rare moments like these that he loved quietly watching Alexa and seeing the vast expressions that formed across her face. Her lips were parted slightly as her green eyes were glued to the screen ahead of them.

    His mind still could wrap his head around the fact that they had met before hand and the prince had not recognized this beauty of a woman that was now sitting next to him. He racked through all the memories where he could have possibly met Alexa, but it was coming up blank. There was no way in his mind that he would have forgotten a face or body like Alexa’s. There was a part of him that craved to know how their first interaction went according to Alexa.

    “Alexa?” He spoke her name just loud enough over the noise coming from the TV.  

    “Mhmm?” Her eyes remained glued to the show.

    “When did you first meet me?” The genuine wonder in his voice caused Alexa to lift her head off of the prince’s shoulder and glance up at him questioningly.

    The expression that was forming on her face was one that took her smile right off her lips. Alexa parted her mouth to speak, but hesitated and shook her head lightly. “A long time ago.” Was the simplest answer she wanted to give Harry while brushing off the topic.

    Harry reached forward and grabbed the remote off the coffee table, pausing the TV show. He was eager to know more, especially since observing Alexa’s hesitance in answering and her smile fading away into nothing. “We both know I don’t remember, but you do and it’s killing me not knowing why I don’t ever remember meeting someone like you.” Alexa’s green eyes held his gaze, hanging on to his every word.

    This was a conversation that made her quite uncomfortable due to their current situation with dating one another. She looked down away from the prince towards her fidgeting hands that attempted to calm the budding nerves coursing through her while the prince waited patiently in silence.

    “It was a party at the Van Straubenzee’s a few months after Henry died.” Alexa started to speak, but would not look Harry in the eye. “I went with Eugenie and I remember her telling me how worried she was about you.” A set of green eyes peaked up at him cautiously. “You had just broken up with Chelsy and one of your best friends had died.” Alexa breathed out and pursed her lips together not wanting to bring more of it up.

    “I was shit faced that night, I remember that at least.” Harry commented with a nodding head. “Was I at least nice to you?” The genuine concern was evident in his voice.

    Alexa’s lips spread into a tiny soft smile as she locked eyes with the prince. “You were quite funny, Harry. I was outside and you randomly came and sat down next to me.” The blonde started to giggle a bit. “We talked for a while and you were nice, but then you said a few things that really concerned me. You weren’t coping well that night and you opened up a bit to me. But, you were also quite influenced by the alcohol you had consumed.”

    Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion and felt an anger towards himself. Internally kicking himself for not remembering that night. The only memory he had of that night was finding himself the next morning in a guest bedroom with a feeling that someone had taken care of him and gotten him into that bed safely.

    The blonde started to share more as her voice brought the prince back into reality. “I got worried and well I convinced you to stop drinking and to sleep it off. I helped you up the stairs and found a guest room away from everyone so know one would know.”

    The prince had a growing feeling as Alexa as continued to tell the story of what happened that she was indeed the person that helped him through that awful night. She could have easily taken advantage of the situation and talked to the press or had taken exclusive pictures to sell, but she didn’t and that alone built the already respect he held for Alexa up that much higher.

    “You were trying to convince me to stay with you, but I knew it was best not to.” Alexa’s head swayed back and forth.  “Even though you tried to kiss me multiple times and brought out your most charming pick up lines so I was told.”

    “I tried to kiss you?” Harry’s eyebrow rose in question while Alexa’s head nodded slowly at confirming the confession.

    “Yeah… I think you thought I was Chelsy.” Alexa shied away at the memory of it. “Anyway, I don’t blame you at all for not remembering it. We never spoke again so I didn’t know if you remembered or not until Eugenie’s party.”

    Harry’s head leaned back against the frame of the sofa as he released a deep sigh. He could definitely have seen his younger rebel self, doing something exactly like that. He could have thought it was his ex or that he simply wanted to get over her with someone else and that was of course the first impression that Alexa had of Harry in her mind. “Well shit. I made a great first impression that I could not even remember.” He barked a laugh only to hear Alexa join in at his expense, but she quickly attempted to stifle it feeling a healthy level of guilt for doing so.

    “I’m sorry.” His blue eyes softened their gaze at the beautiful blonde.

    “You don’t need too. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Alexa’s voice was quiet and calming. His eyes carefully watched Alexa’s brow furrow in thought as he angled his head down at her wondering what she was thinking in that mind of hers.

    “Why don’t we both agree that our first impressions of each other is when we both could remember it?” Her hand rested on his knee comfortably as their gaze lingered in silence. “I like that version better.”

    The prince had gotten so lost in Alexa’s sparkling deep green eyes he had forgot to reply. “I think that is a fabulous idea, Alexa.”

    “Good! Now can we finish X-Factor?” Alexa reached forward and grabbed the remote to start the show again.

    Harry’s arm lifted again for Alexa to cozy up beside him and she did without needing to be convinced. Though the prince’s mind was far from watching the show, he relished in the feeling of Alexa next to him while his mind conjured up ideas for their first date next week.

[rissaroundtheworld]

10,000 Leagues Over the Sea: A journey across the Americas and a triumpant return to chartering

This may be the longest stretch I’ve had without posting, which is unfortunate since I recently learned that more people read this than just my parents. On that note, hi everyone at Genzyme, thank you for following along!

When I last updated, I was laying low as an undocumented alien in Colombia while slowly remembering what its like to walk on a stable surface.*  Aside from breaking a smorgasboard of international, local, and maritime laws, the trip to Colombia was reasonably uneventful. After setting anchor in Cartagena we immediately ran off the boat to eat in a restaurant, and didn’t look back for the entire month+ we had on shore. Yes, my bank account and I are currently in a fight, but we will work through it… we always do.  We visited some of our favorite bars and restaurants, met up with old friends, and made some new ones. We traded in our Balboas for Club Colombias (roja, duh) and more or less neglected all responsibilities for awhile. I even took a shower in a REAL shower! **

[*In case you’re wondering, if you could walk before you can walk again after not doing it for awhile. Just like riding a bike!

**We actually have a very real shower on board, but when I came to the boat I proclaimed, in front of at least 4 people, that I would commit to not using it for the entirety of my stay on board. I generally shower in the ocean, or using our outdoor shower (not part of the no-use proclamation) but I have not set foot in the regular shower aside from cleaning it for charters. Four months… clean? Probably the wrong word to use here.  ]

As quickly as I arrived in Colombia it was time for me to fly home. It had been six whole months, and I missed all the wonderful people in my life something fierce! The trip got off to a poor start as a weather delay prevented me from actually leaving on my intended date. I packed, drove the airport, checked in…. and then found out I would have to turn back and try again tomorrow. I was about to leave when the JetBlue staff pulled me aside and, in quiet voices, asked me the English word for an issue with a suitcase. The word in question was “dent,” which I happily shared with them. This opened the floodgates to a full blown English lesson on luggage – I taught them all the words for baby gear (crib, stroller, etc), luggage damage (dent, scratch, chip), and then headed back to spoil Nate’s dreams of having a night to himself. *** The next day I left one America for the other, and immediately reunited with my sister who conveniently lives within walking distance of the airport. She took me to a Colombian restaurant for brunch to help me assimilate back into the US of A. Perhaps it was the arepas, or the pitcher of mimosas, but I fell back into step easily and we quickly hopped into an Uber to head to Sutton. **** My time at home was a whirlwind of family, friends, food, and an absurd number of visits to Target. I threw a small pool party in hopes of getting to see all the faces that I missed, and it was very successful. ***** I managed to visit most of my favorite restaurants, get back to Central Rock, and of course, forced Tilly to cuddle me until her little doggy brain was probably begging me to leave.

[***He handled this well.

****Definitely not with champagne in water bottles. Definitely not.

***** Barring a “minor” glitch where, less than 24 hours before all of my friends were supposed to arrive, I completely shattered the 6 person glass table in the pool area, covering the already shimmering surface with tiny, un-collectable shards of glass.  Don’t worry, only three people had to have glass pulled out of their feet, and one of them was me. May the odds be ever in your favor.]

   From home, I flew to Medellin, Colombia, where we had “work” of a different nature: overseeing the final stages of the renovation of Nate’s new penthouse. For better or worse, the construction was behind, which meant our “work” was limited to buying a projector and speakers, which took approximately 5 hours out of the 10 days we had in Medellin. So, we did what people who live and work on a boat do for vacation: hooked up the new projector and sound system in our little AirBnb, ordered delivery for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and behaved like degenerate sloths for nearly a week. It was truly magical!

The time came to return to Cartagena, and now we were in full-blown work mode. The boat had been undergoing some major renovations ****** in a pretty sketchy marina. The first few cabs that I asked for a ride straight up said they wouldn’t go there; the man who finally agreed got too scared, left me on the side of the road, and drove off into the distance. Early-travel Rissa would have been peeing her pants in fear, but my experienced self knew that this would probably be ok. ******* I called a friend of a friend with a car, and he told me that if I stayed exactly where I was I would be safe. This dude has been shot 8 times, so I trusted his judgment.  He quickly came and picked me up; I was pissed at the cab driver but no worse for the wear. The rest of my time in Cartagena was divided between working on the boat all morning, spending the afternoons/evenings with CHRISTIE who came to visit ********, and profusely sweating every single second. Seriously, Cartagena is the hottest place I have ever visited. Ever. 

[****** The dining room table now turns into a bed, which means we can jam more of your fine asses in this boat. Come visit, friends!!

******* I’m so sorry, mom. Really.

******** Christie is a beautiful princess and one of my dearest friends and I love her so much and was sooooo happy to see her!]

Once Christie left, it was time to REALLY crank. We had a charter coming up, so there was very little room for error in our timeline. We bought out all the non-perishable items in Cartagena, stocked up the boat, and went to buy fuel. ********* In true South American form, when we arrived at the fuel dock the employees told us they were out of fuel. When we pressed further into when they would have more, they shrugged and said “not tomorrow?” Which was all we needed to know. No fuel refills for us. Now, I’m sure most of you reading have been in this situation in a car: you look at your gas gauge, think about how far you need to go, and occasionally think “ehhhh I can make it!” This mentality doesn’t work as well on a boat. If you run out gas in a car, you call AAA, you call your friend, a tow company, anything.  In a boat? Not so much. Running out of fuel means drifting aimlessly in the ocean until you have enough wind to get you where you’re going. We met another boat who had relied entirely on wind to get them from San Blas to Cartagena… what should take 36 hours took them 10 days. To get back in time for our charter, running out of fuel was not an option. We did some calculations, closely monitored the weather, and for better or worse opted for the “ehhh, we can make it!” mentality. To be safe, we needed 10 hours of wind. We felt this was possible, and so we set sail. ********** About 20 hours in, with the fuel gauges dropping at a rapid pace, we checked the weather and realized that our chances of making to our destination, Puerto Lindo, were quite slim. We had two options: hope for wind to make it to Puerto Lindo, where we could check in with immigration and do the right thing and be upstanding citizens of the world, or dart straight to San Blas, guaranteeing that we have enough fuel to make it and that we arrive on time for our charter, but once again be undocumented aliens in a foreign land for at least a week. We unanimously agreed on option two.

[********* One of the many things I’ve learned about sailing is that, unless you have absolutely all the time in the world and no deadlines, you’re often not sailing. The name is very misleading. Fuel is a must.

********** A major part of this story didn’t fit into this narrative, which is that our anchor motor also broke during this time. In case you don’t know anything about boats, anchors are kind of important. And by kind of, I mean incredibly so. We lost an entire day just to fixing the windlass, which means our dire fuel situation now has a time crunch added to it. The plot thickens!]

This change in course meant that we would arrive significantly earlier than planned… a little TOO early. Because San Blas has so many (gorgeous!) reefs, trying to navigate in the dark is quite dangerous. Our new itinerary put us in around 3 am, far too soon for safety. So we did something I had never experienced before: we shut off the engines, left the boat on autopilot, and took a nap while floating aimlessly in the middle of the ocean. It was one of those moments where you realize how small you are in the world, which has recently become one of my favorite feelings. After a warm welcome by no less than 8 dolphins racing the boat, we arrived in San Blas and had to turn it up to 11 to be ready for our guests. There were a few things about this charter that made me nervous: first, they had been a referral from our good friends who also charter, but had to cancel due to some medical issues. We were so thankful that they trusted us with their guests, but also worried that the guests had come to expect one thing with our friends, and would be disappointed when our charter was different. The second was that they specifically asked for fresh seafood, which is the primary source of our food, but my cooking skills are still limited. I can make a mean sushi roll and goddamn are my fish tacos good ************, but we don’t normally make much with lobster (one of their specific requests), and I have little experience with some of the other delicacies available to us. It was time to learn. I’ll save you the stories of my emotional turmoil related to “should I give them what they’ve requested and risk it being awful, or not listen to their requests but ensure the food is good” and tell you that the universe was kind to me this week, and we ate like kings. Lobster risotto, baked lobster, conch fritters, fresh caught crab, seared tuna, fresh sushi with tuna and mackerel, fish tacos… not to mention all the non-fish meals we all stuffed ourselves with. I will allow myself to toot my own horn for just a second here: I was fairly confident in my cooking abilities at home, but I believe I have stepped my game up here, both in terms of ability but also adaptability. When you have to rely on the local Kuna to hopefully kayak up to your boat on the designated day, and hopefully have the items you’re looking for, to plan a weeks worth of meals for guests who are paying you to be on board…  there’s a bit of a learning curve. But the moral of the story is, when there’s a will there’s a way, and now I make a bomb lobster risotto. ************ Our charter guests left, and the universe shined down on us once more. The Kunas pulled up in one of their larger boats which contain fresh produce, opened up a cooler, and there it was: ice cream. Still riding the high of our successful charter, we laid back on our new table-bed, opened up our cartons of ice cream, and ate ourselves sick. And with that, we begin prep for a packed season of more guests, adventures, food, rum…. And maybe some more ice cream somewhere in the mix. Until next time!  

[************  yep.

************  You’re welcome, mom.] 

[jennmoslek36]

      NOVEMBER 2018

  ROUGHLY SIX MONTHS & one Category 3 Hurricane (Michael) later, here we were again. As we drove the main stretch of road, toward our hotel, we could only see bits & pieces of our surroundings. It was too dark to see the extent of the damage done to the area, however, in spite of the darkness, a familiar silhouette began to take shape before us. It was the tall brick smokestack of the South Campus & it was still in one piece; In fact, it didn’t appear to be damaged at all! My adrenaline started going but I knew that it was way too late to do anything tonight. Not knowing the conditions we were walking into, we played it safe & skipped our traditional 1st night pic in front of the school. As we pulled into our hotel, it was packed…Work trucks filled the parking lot & there was a ton of activity on the hotel property. Yet another sign that you’re dealing with the aftermath of a major hurricane. We found our room, unloaded & got ready to settle in for the night. Of course, me being me, I opted to spend a few minutes walking around the property to see what, if any damage had been done.

  findingflorida.blog

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  THERE WASN’T A lot to see OR a lot that you actually could see as it was pitch black & many of the streetlights were still busted or missing. It was also freezing cold, so I gave up pretty quick & went back to our room to read some of the Dozier notes I had brought, until I fell asleep.

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    SUNDAY ~ DAY 1

AS EAGER AS I had been to get to the school, we spent a majority of our day walking downtown Marianna. I’m not going to really get into that portion of our trip but if anyone is interested, I will post those photos either to the GRAVEAdventuresFL  Facebook page (info below) OR as its own photo gallery here on findingflorida. What I will say is that even though our trip had marked about a month since the hurricane, there was still quite a bit of cleanup & rebuilding left to be done. Most of me felt bad. BUT only for the good people of Jackson County. Sadly, those that were the innocent & had absolutely NO knowledge of the evil that had taken place in their beautiful little town got stuck eating the double helping of Karma that those responsible for taking or destroying thousands of lives had coming. We moved through within an hour & were on our way out when E pointed out a church with an old graveyard on the property.

  findingflorida.blog

  IT HAPPENED TO be the same church & graveyard that I had seen on our way into town. Now one thing about Marianna; There is NO shortage of churches packed into a small radius! They are on every corner, so if a “Come To Jesus” is what you’re needing, you can take your pick of where you want to have it. There was something about this particular church that had us pulling over & within a minute OR two, stepping into what we thought was just a tiny graveyard. It would be anything but ordinary. There was a reason we were compelled to stop & if we couldn’t figure out exactly what that reason was, we would get some unexpected help.

  findingflorida.blog

    WELCOME TO SAINT LUKES

  WE FOLLOWED THE brick path, through the entrance & started looking around. You could tell that the little graveyard had been well cared for, at least prior to the hurricane. Even the oldest headstones looked pretty decent compared to most places I’ve seen in the past. “Fun” Fact about Marianna; Apparently they take way better care of their old graveyards than they did of the children that they used to generate revenue for their little town…Just Sayin’….

    WE DIDN’T GET far before our eyes were drawn to a huge tree that was lying across several of the graves. It was massive up close with the base & the roots still attached; It was almost as if a giant had & pulled it out of the ground like an average person pulling a weed. It was insane to see, especially when paired with the visual of the two old headstones broken beneath it. Add the gigantic gaping hole now in the place of a number of the plots, you’ve got yourself quite the disturbing scene.

  findingflorida.blog

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    ONE FOR ALL & ALL FOR…MILTON??

NOW I HAVE been to over 250 cemeteries (the exact number is actually 273 but who’s counting?) just in the State of Florida, taken thousands of pictures hoping to help with preserving their history, so this one wasn’t really anything special in my opinion. I definitely couldn’t figure out why we were wasting what little time we had meandering around an old church graveyard…Until a series of events took place that let both of us know exactly why we had been brought there. Unfortunately, before I can talk about those events, I have to talk about them…

  findingflorida.blog

  “THEM” WOULD BE the Milton family & anyone who’s been following this blog OR knows the history of how the Arthur G Dozier School for Boys (OR the Florida Industrial School as it was originally known as) came to fruition is aware that it started with a “Milton.” Specifically Senator William H. Milton as he was the catalyst for making sure that Marianna would win the bid to have the reform school built in his hometown & him, along with his grandson W.H. Milton, would campaign to raise the funds to make this happen. In fact, the Milton family as a whole would be staunch supporters of bringing “Reform “ to the panhandle & even donated much of the land & additional funds necessary to make it happen. The Milton’s were in it up to their eyeballs & “Spoiler Alert”…They got their damn “school.” After the opening in 1900, Senator Milton would continue his support by pushing Bills & requests through the Senate, paving the way for the staff to beat, rape, torture & murder ANY boy they chose without ANY consequences. The Milton name remains firmly planted in Marianna to this day, their mark on everything from churches to law firms…But still NO apology note to the Dozier boys OR their families. That is definitely the one & only mark I’d like to see!

    THIS SMALL TOWN sure has some kind of sick hero worship thing going on BUT us Non-Stone Age “City Folk” refer to people like the Miltons as child abusing A-Holes! I won’t bore Y’all with Milton Family “Fun Facts”, so let’s just move on.

  findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

    AN EYE OPENING INCIDENT

ON THE OTHER side of that fallen tree stood the well cared for headstones of the Milton Family. Grandma, Grandpa, their children & grandchildren had been laid to rest peacefully, ALL with lovely little poems & epithets, acknowledging their “accomplishments” & family. I can assure everyone that the Milton Family had a much different farewell than those who had been at the receiving end of their legacy.

    Senator William H. Milton

Photo via classmates.com

    I STOOD THERE looking over each marker, stopping in front of W.H. Milton. Now I totally realize just how childish this is going to sound BUT I took a minute to give him a piece of my mind…Actually several minutes. Completely pointless, YES! Totally worth it, Hell Yeah It Was! I was at the end of my internal berating session when I heard it…

    ”DO YOU SEE IT?”

    IT SOUNDED LIKE a woman’s voice, possibly even a child. You could hear the tone as well as the rise & fall of it. As I looked over to my right to say something sarcastic to E (Who was standing only a few feet away) I stopped. She was deep in thought studying one of the grave markers. Instantly I knew…She didn’t say it. She looked over at me & asked me if I said something. “NO! I Thought You Did!” We pretty quickly established that neither one of us had spoken & that we heard the EXACT same thing at the EXACT same time. It was seriously amazing! We both began wandering in different directions trying to figure out What “IT” was that we were supposed to see. It would be E that would actually figure it out & call me over to have a look…

    WELL FANCY MEETING you here Mr. Arthur G Dozier…And you brought the fam! All joking aside, it really was a disgusting display of how valued these evil men were over the children that they were supposed to be caring for. To be blunt, The Miltons & The Doziers have a cushy place to spend eternity while the boys that they had been responsible for are buried on the school’s property in unmarked graves. It’s a fact that to this day pisses me off. Maybe the voice we heard didn’t want us to miss this as it knew that it would light a fire under my ass.

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    SKULLS IN THE WOODS & A GHOST FROM THE PAST

THE LAST STOP of our 1st full day in Marianna was the North Campus of the school. It was late in the day, leaving us with little time to really accomplish anything but at least we could see a little bit before it was dark. We took the fork to the left, driving up the hill in the direction of the hospital. It was hard to miss the destruction that the hurricane had caused. Approximately 90% of the trees were completely gone OR broken, the remnants were spread out all over the property. It was shocking to me that I could stand on the hill at the North Campus & see almost all of the South Campus. I could actually see more beyond the South Campus fence than I had ever seen before…Which frustrated the Holy Hell out of me because I wanted nothing more than to get inside of that fence!

    AS WE PULLED off the path, we walked over in the general direction of where we had used the fallen tree as a bridge to get to the infirmary the last trip. This time we didn’t make it to the infirmary as something caught our eye, diverting our attention away from that area. It was another section of fence that was missing & as a number of trees were gone, you could just make out the outline of something fairly large.

  findingflorida.blog

findingflorida.blog

    IT WOULD TAKE a bit just to get through the tangle of vines, branches & other debris blocking the way. It also didn’t help that we were nearing dusk & it had started to rain. It wasn’t even 5 minutes into our hike when the words were spoken that NO person trudging through the woods at dusk EVER wants to hear were spoken…”OH MY GOD, THERE’S A SKULL!” I looked over at E, who had actually found it, & started backing myself out of vine Hell! As I walked over to her, she quickly clarified that it definitely wasn’t human. That had me breathing a sigh of relief! The whole mission for this trip was to find proof that there was additional boys still buried on the property & as badly as I wanted to walk out of there with that proof, I didn’t want to find it this way…I’m almost 100% positive that E completely agreed. When I finally got over to where she was, I was a bit creeped out. It was clearly the skull of some type of dog but what kind, we couldn’t be sure. The odd thing about it was that it was lying in the woods in the wet & mud & yet it looked to be in good condition. Not just good but almost bleached. We chalked it up to another sad victim of the storm & started to move forward again…And then I saw the next one & then the 3rd. A few feet away E would find the 4th & 5th.

    NOW I AGREE that this could have been caused by the storm OR even other wild animals, however, I highly doubt that in either of those scenarios everything would have been left in a pattern. If anyone missed the final word of the previous sentence, YES, I said pattern. As in a semi circle type placement that almost appeared like they were “guarding” the front of the structure that we had been working to get through. Since they were way too far apart to get a picture of all of them together, I’ll leave you with this visual:

  ~PICTURE A RITUAL WHERE SALT IS PLACED IN A CIRCLE OR EVEN AT THE THRESHOLD OF A DOOR…OR TRY THIS ONE; AROUND THE PERIMETER OF YOUR HOME…

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    A BRAND NEW DISCOVERY 

ANIMAL BONES AND thoughts of rituals aside, we had to keep going. After a few more minutes of struggling we finally stepped into a small area that was somewhat clear & stood there, in shock, in the dim light & drizzling rain looking up at it…OH…MY…GOD…

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  I THINK WE were both in shock. I know I was! I had been in this area 2 other times, literally right next door to the massive brick building that I would later identify as “Washington Cottage” & had absolutely NO clue that it was right next to me. What remained of the once 2 story structure was unbelievable. The entry way had a huge concrete porch framed by 2 massive columns. After climbing the large steps, we were standing on the covered patio, sheltered from the rain. There was so much debris that it took about 10 minutes just to figure out what it all was. To me it looked like it was tons of branches, leaves & mud combined with broken & discarded furniture from inside. There was also pieces of the actual structure that had broken away & fallen onto the patio.

    WE DID EVENTUALLY make our way through the front door, which was one of the things lying on the patio, & when we did it was unbelievable! Unlike the dorms that we had previously explored, this one was pretty empty & the fact that we could easily identify the floors as being concrete showed how much cleaner the inside of the Washington Cottage was than damn near every other building we’d ever been in. It was E who pointed out one of the biggest differences…The cottages we had been in on previous occasions were the traditional red brick, inside & out, while the cottage we were currently standing in had tile walls. It was more than a little strange but I also know that when it comes to the Arthur G Dozier School for Boys, absolutely NOTHING shocks me anymore…Well, almost nothing!

  findingflorida.blog

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  AS IT TURNS out, exploring the the Cottage wouldn’t take all that long. The inside was basically a smaller model of the other cottages with the exception of those tile walls. The main room was flanked on either side by similar enclosed stair cases leading up to the now totally collapsed 2nd floor, causing so much debris that even the most skilled explorer would be hard pressed to get up those steps. I know I never even a gave it a thought. For some reason I didn’t feel that there was anything that we needed to see up there anyway. Our time had shrunk to literally minutes. It was almost dark, raining pretty hard & the temperature was quickly plummeting. Since we weren’t able to access the one other room inside of the cottage (OR I should say what was left of it!), there was only one other way to go…Out the back. So that’s what we decided to do. As it turns out, there wasn’t much to see behind the building either. There was a smaller slab of concrete that served as a possible patio & you guessed it…More Woods! The woods were so thick that we had issues just getting around the outskirts of the building, there was NO way in Hell that we would be able to get through that mess at night. It would be yet another task that would have to wait until the following day.

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    LEAVE THE NOT KNOWING FOR ANOTHER DAY

ON OUR WAY back to the car there were random things just sitting around. Another old filing cabinet rusting out in the open, discarded bottles & other trash, some looked to be more recently discarded than others but all proved that people did still frequent the area. Who knows what evidence of the past had been destroyed while the locals were hanging out, knocking back a few. We had no way of knowing what we were standing only a few feet away from BUT I can assure you that this time we would be leaving with proof in our hands…

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  ☆ IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW WERE HOUSED AT “THE FLORIDA INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL FOR BOYS” AKA “THE ARTHUR G DOZIER SCHOOL FOR BOYS” OR THE OKEECHOBEE SCHOOL FOR BOYS, PLEASE REACH OUT VIA HERE AT findingflorida.blog OR ANY OF THE CONTACT INFO LISTED BELOW!!☆

  Want More “Finding Florida?” BE SURE TO “SUBSCRIBE”!

FOR PRIVATE CONTACT SEND EMAILS TO:  whitehouseboys2018@gmail.com  FOR ALL DOZIER SCHOOL INFO GO TO:

http://www.whitehouseboys2007.com &

http://thewhitehouseboysonline.com FOR FULL PHOTO GALLERIES & ADDITIONAL LOCATION INFO FOLLOW ME ON FB AT:   @GRAVEAdventuresFL

INVESTIGATING DOZIER: A Trail Of Of Destruction ~ Pt. 1 NOVEMBER 2018 ROUGHLY SIX MONTHS & one Category 3 Hurricane (Michael) later, here we were again.

[placesthatchangedpeople]

A stay at the Thayer Learning Center

This testimony was found on the message board belonging to HEAL-online. All rights goes to the author

(Too long of an intro?) Skip down to the time I arrived and read from there.

One summer day I was alerted to headlights coming up the driveway, little did I know what was about to happen.

I looked out the window in my bedroom and saw headlights pulling into the driveway, this is unusual as my family at the time lived in a remote ranch area with only a few neighbors nearby also it was around 4:00 Am in the morning.

I run into the house and alert my parents that there is a vehicle pulling into the driveway (my memory is a little blurry so bear with me) my parents get up quickly and pretend to not know what's going on, I go to the back door to see who was coming up the driveway and my dad rushes to the front door of the house and blocks the entrance, as I make my way to the back room where the back door is located to my surprise, a transporter is waiting outside the door, or blocking it, (unable to remember which) then another transporter comes from the other side blocking me in (he came in the front door) They do this boxing in method just in case the subject (me) decided to try and run.

So we're all in the back room, one of the transporters tells me to put on my shoes, so I comply after asking what was going on I'm very confused at this point, but my body is in no condition to run, I literally looked like one of those Ethiopian children you see in pictures, ribs sticking out, all skin a bones.

Anyway, I am transported to their car and I am told to get in the back seat, passenger side, so I comply.

I remember looking out the door before they shut it and my mother telling me that I am going away for awhile, I think her and I both cried.

The door was shut and my parents and the transporters talk briefly and away we go to the Reno airport to catch a plane. I was mostly quiet for the trip, I do remember asking one question "Where am I going?" I got a brief "Boarding school comment" from one of the transporters, So I thought to myself, well, I guess a little adventure couldn't hurt, since I was withering away anyway. Bear in mind I had had no sleep the night before, and my adrenaline and curiosity was at peak so I was not able to sleep at all during the trip.

We arrive at the Reno-Tahoe International Airport and board a plane, so I use the restroom real quick and away we go.

Our plane departs and we land in Las Vegas to switch flights to Kansas City, MO.

We had to wait for a little while for our flight to prepare, so while we were waiting one of the transporters (shortish white guy, brown hair)starts to play some sort of video poker close to where we were sitting, I think the native guy asks me if I would like to have something to eat, a slice of pizza or something and he tells me "this is the last time for awhile that you will have an opportunity to have this kind of food" But I respectfully decline his offer as I was not hungry. (depressed people have trouble eating)

Both guys were fairly nice to me.

The time comes to board our flight, so we start heading for the terminal to board the plane, to be honest I kinda felt like a bad ass because I had two guys who looked like body guards standing around me at all times.

We board the plane and lift off to Kansas City International Airport.

We arrive, get off the plane and walk to the rent-a-car booth, we head to the rental car and start to drive out of the city to the tiny town of Kidder.

As we pull up to the facility, I see the main building and feel sort of relived "this place doesn't look so bad" I say to myself, that is until we rounded the corner to the other side of the building. Fear strikes me in my mind as we pull up to a fenced off area "The Beach" we called it, to see 3 drill Sargents in black/white camo BDU wear and big round DSGT hats on the inside of the fence.

We enter the fenced off area and immediately after entering my intake started.

I was yelled at, screamed at, billed in the face.

They started going over making me learn the 10 general orders of the program.

every time I messed up they would make me run a down and back to the end building and back. I eventually got tired of this and got a wild hair and got a little disobedient, as soon as those words left my mouth I was on the ground with 3 drill Sargents tying me into pretzel, one of them sat on my back I think it was DSGT "H1", while one of the other started to bend my legs up and backwards, DSGT "H2" bending my spine in the opposite direction it is suppose to go. Now bear in mind I am very frail due to the condition my body was in, I was so afraid they were going to break my back and I was in a lot of pain, so I pretended to have a seizure to get them to stop, I rolled my eyes into the back of my head and started jerking my body around as if I were having a seizure.

I think I scared them because they got off me immediately and let me lay there for awhile, deciding what they should do next.

They decided to wrap up my intake and took me into the building, they told me to take off all my clothes, one of the JR. Staff, A cadet that was about to finish the program turned on the shower and I was instructed to get in it, everyone still yelling at me of course, but not interacting with me physically. So after that is over, I am in a state of shock at this point so I don't remember much after that point besides going down to requisitions and getting a bin full of clothes and other items I needed as a Cadet and they placed me in Bravo bay. That day my entire bay was punished because I wasn't able to do a single pushup, due to them tearing a muscle in my elbow, also I had very little muscle mass if any at all.

That night I fell into catatonic state, I'm not sure how long I was in that state, but all I remember was looking up at the camera and the ceiling.

Eventually, I start to get stronger and learn the ropes.

A short while later my legs begin to swell like balloons, I kept putting it on my sick report, but it took about a week, maybe longer to get it looked at by an EMT, during that week I was unable to run or do the exercises properly, the Sargents kept making comments about my legs to each other "no wonder he can't run, his legs are swelled up like balloons" and laughing to each other making jokes and nasty comments, at one point one of the Sargents put his boot on my chest and let his weight down on top of me, looked me in the eyes and smiled evilly, knowing there was nothing I could do about it.

When my family rep finally took me to the hospital the doctors ran tests on my legs to see if I had any blood clots, they wanted to do more tests and keep me over night, but the EMT at the time (I'm not really sure she was even qualified to put a band-aid on an injury) threw a fit over it, so I wasn't able to get checked out further. (Which I should have because my legs were swelled up, they were huge!) They ended up putting me on no lower body P.T and called it good, basically told me to drink water and get over my drama. The Sargent that stepped on my chest, ignored the doctor sticker on my canteen and made me do lower body P.T anyway. That guy was mean.

I wanted to tell the doctors to help me and that they were abusing us, but I was so afraid of what they would have done to me when I got back to camp.

I suppose it has something to do with Stockholm syndrome. I think they actually used Stockholm syndrome and fear as a cover, they has us zombified, terrified and broken.

Eventually, I finally got stronger and was able to do all of the exercises, they became more of an annoyance when the pain tolerance built up and a fit body made the constant nonstop exercise easier. I kind of want to say I just got used to it, but I'm not sure if that would be the right words to use.

I want to go over a list here to tell what I witnessed and experienced at Thayer Learning Center

During my stay, I noticed that they broke 3 cadets wrists. They lied to parents about injuries related to abuse. One particular Sargent there who was the wrist breaker was promoted for his extreme behavior modification techniques including the breaking of bones.

One day in the blistering heat we had to bear crawl everywhere we went, so when we went to the chow hall, and gym,(all separate buildings from male boot camp) the skin on our hands literally melted off on the sidewalk, everyone got bad blisters all over their hands.

Certain Cadets were singled out by Staff and Cadets, and were bullied more often than others. One cadet in particular got restrained at least once or twice a week. That I was witness to.

Lots of Cadets developed a foot fungus due to the latrine floor being covered in bacteria, we also did not have the privilege of having toilet seats on our toilets.

We slept in a basement with bugs and spiders everywhere, the walls leaked, so when it rained the boot camp basement bays Alpha and Bravo became partially flooded and our sleeping bags, clothes would get wet.

At one point during the program I tried to break my ankle so that I could escape the torment, so I ran up the catwalk in the gym when the Sargent wasn't looking and jumped off, I landed on my feet and fell forward, as soon as one of the Sargents realized what I did, he immediately restrained me, pushing my neck into the floor, I was unable to breath and began screaming "Sir! I can't breath" through my crushed vocal cords and windpipe.

All he said was "STOP SAYING CAN'T!!" I thought I was going to die, I quit trying to breath and I was going to try and let myself slip out of consciousness, but at about the point I was passing out he got off of me. A cadet mentioned it later and said the sounds I was making sounded like I was being killed.

I was placed in isolation for a week or so I can't remember, and my neck was messed up for about a year after that, I think he did something to damage my spine, or the tendons in my neck when he restrained me.

When parents would show up, they would call "code white" over the radio, so the Sargent/Staff on duty would be aware that they were being watched, so they had us sit down and read, or do other activities in an attempt to keep the parents from knowing exactly what was going on there, to keep their horror house under wraps.

We were woken up in the middle of the night to exercise outside on the beach, or inside. Those were what we called "moon burns"

We had to sleep on 1/2 Inch thick green mats on top of the concrete floor.

When I finally got to residency, we were allowed one phone call per week with our parents, whenever I tried telling my mother that we were being abused, my family rep would switch off my phone, and take over the phone call (all of our calls were monitored live)

All of our letters were screened and judged according to a cadets psychological profile. whited out, or edited, not sent at all.

Every weekend we were allowed to sit on the concrete floor and watch a movie, we often had to watch the same movie over and over again as a means of psychological tactics. ("Aladdin" was favorite of the staff)

We had to listen to "Bram Stoker's Dracula" and repetitive motivational cassette tapes repeatedly over and over again, as means of psychological tactics.

Cadets who "acted up" were forced to sit in isolation for weeks at a time in a tent with a bright light, listening to the same motivational tapes over and over again, NOTE: they started putting cadets in empty bays instead of the tent for some reason.

If we were outside and a car drove by on the isolated road in front of the main building, we were instructed to face towards the building for who knows what reason.

I witnessed a Sargent punch a cadet in the face.

Whenever a cadet was restrained, the Sargent or JR. Staff would yell out grenade, which then we had to dive on the ground, and bury our face in our elbows and kick our legs as to not be witnesses to the event of the bodily assaults.

One female cadet in particular was made to stay there for years and be subject to the owners abusive drones we called Sargents.

I personally witnessed cadets urinate and a defecate themselves.

cadets who acted up, we were forced to mock them with a made up cadence all together that included their name to bully and shame them into obedience.

A cadet died there due to their neglect and abuse.

How these programs continue to flourish is anyone's guess Which is very concerning.

The only positive thing I have to say about this program is, had I not been sent, I may have died due to severe depression I was not eating and my body was withering away.

Basically, I was broken down completely, but never built back up.

These places are abusive, plain and simple.

Do not send your kids to these places.

I am a survivor and assure you that everything I have mentioned is true and correct and not exaggerated in any way to my knowledge.

You have my permission to post this on your website, I wish to remain Anonymous and am also using a VPN out of fear that the owners will retaliate against me in my adult life should they come across this posting even though the place has since shut down.

A death occured at the boot camp and the bad press coverage forced the owners to close. However, they were never prosecuted for their part in the tragic death

Sources:

Thayer Learning Center (What I saw and experienced) (The HEAL Forum)

Roberto Reyes - 2004 (Today a child died - memorial blog)

[erpsoftwarsolution]

Trade pact is not enough for López Obrador to revive economy

The US Senate’s ratification of the USMCA trade deal this month lifted four years of nerve-racking uncertainty for Mexico. A beaming President Andrés Manuel López Obrador told Mexicans to look forward tobetterpayandmoreinvestment. The leftwing leader has argued that the revamped United States-MexicoCanada Agreement will help revive an economy where investment and job creation are at their lowest in a decade, growth has plummeted to zero and consumer and business confidence are understrain. But eliminating Donald Trump’s threats to slap tariffs on Mexico or scrap the 25-year-old North American Free Trade Agreement, while necessary, are unlikely to be enough to reignite investment. The lacklustre economy is also largely due to Mr López Obrador himself,businessleadersandanalystssay. “We have seen with profound concern how the perception of uncertainty and hostility to private investment has increased,” Claudia Jañez, president of the Executive Council of Global Companies, told journalists on the eve of the Senate vote. “It is taking a great deal of work to convince our headquarters to invest in Mexico,” added the Latin AmericanchiefofDuPont,theUSchemicalsgroup. Ms Jañez’s remarks were notable because business leaders have generally bent over backwards to placate a politician many of them openly distrusted beforehislandslidewinin2018. “USMCA isn’t the only thing Mexico has to do to recover investment,” said Beatriz Leycegui, a former foreign trade under-secretary. “The government needs to send other types of messages — certainty over public policies, respect fortheruleoflawandcontracts.” Ms Leycegui added: “USMCA is without a doubt very important but what could have more impact is creating a more propitious environment for investmenttoflow.” Mr López Obrador, a nationalist, has clashed repeatedly with businesses — despite his insistence that he respects andneedsprivateinvestment. He scrapped the $13bn Norman Foster-designed Mexico City airport project, one-third built, shortly before taking office — a move analysts said was designed to send the unequivocal signal that“I’mthebossnow”. He has reversed some of his predecessor’s signature reforms, including halting energy auctions, and last year forced a renegotiation of contracts with international gas pipeline companies, the costsofwhichhedeemedexorbitant. CFE, the struggling state-run power utility, is now preparing steps that could dismantle private participation in the electricity market and curb renewable energyprojects. To the delight of the business community, Arturo Herrera, finance minister, told the Financial Times in March that a lack of cash would delay the president’s pet project, an $8bn refinery in his home state of Tabasco. But the Mexican president publicly contradicted him the nextday. Stop-and-start decisions and contradictions abound in a government in which market-friendly personalities such as Mr Herrera and Alfonso Romo, chief of staff, are often overruled by radical ideologues such as Rocío Nahle, the energy minister, or Manuel Bartlett, CFE chief executive, who styles himself asan“ultra-nationalist”. “The problem right now is, what are the rules?” said the head of one Canadian company investing in Mexico. “A few years ago, with the reforms, there wassomekindofpathforopportunities. Now we’re not sure what the opportunitiesare.” With some analysts forecasting the economy may not even grow 1 per cent this year despite growth in the US — which, thanks to Nafta, is its partner in supply chains in cars and electronics — Mr López Obrador should be changing tack.Butheappearsunlikelyto. With approval ratings of more than 70 per cent, he sees nothing broken that needsfixing. “I don’t see how we can move forward under this model,” the Canadian chief executive said. “We need a crisis . . . This government isn’t doing anything to entice investment. All they’re goodatiscancellingstuff.

President Martín Vizcarra’s anti-corruption campaignwas givena potential boost after Peru’s main opposition party suffered a heavy defeat in Sunday's congressionalelection. Mr Vizcarra shut down congress in September after lawmakers repeatedly obstructed his campaign to curb parliamentary privilege and clean up public office. Opposition lawmakers decried the move as “a coup” and branded the president a dictator. But polls suggested the vast majority of Peruvians — fed up with congress’s bickering, corruption and intransigence — welcomed the decision. For the four months since the shutdown,MrVizcarrahasruledbydecree. According to provisional results, 10 parties won seats in the 130-seat chamber with no one party getting more than 11 per cent of the vote. The big loser was the rightwing Popular Force (FP) party led by former presidential candidate Keiko Fujimori. It took less than 7 per cent of the vote and looked set to win about 12 seats, down from 73 at the last congressionalelectionin2016. Ms Fujimori’s party used its parliamentary clout to bring down the previous president in 2018 and make life difficult for Mr Vizcarra. With its power now curbed, the president may be able to press ahead with his reform programme, although — with no political party of his own — he will still need to forgealliances. Part of the president’s mooted reforms include scrapping parliamentary immunity for lawmakers so that they can be brought before judges more easilyifaccusedofcrimes. “It’s an even more fragmented congress than we expected,” said Arturo Maldonado, a political analyst at the Pontifical Catholic University in Lima. “There is a clear loser — Fujimori’s movement — but there are no clear winners. “Perhaps the biggest winner is not a party but an idea: the idea that shutting down the previous congress was good forthecountry.” Peru goes to the polls in April 2021 to choose a new parliament and president, meaning neither Mr Vizcarra nor the lawmakers elected on Sunday will have muchtimetoachievetheirgoals.

yesterday evening, at London’s Institute of Contemporary Arts, Bethany Williams picked up a £10,000 prize at theArtsFoundationFutures Awards. For a 30-year-old, who until 14 months ago was working full time in a pub to enable her projects to happen at all,thefundsmustbewelcome. The Arts Foundation honours a diverse range of artistic practice every January,thisyearincludingcomicbooks and experimental film-making. Williams’s award was for “Social Innovation: the material evolution”, a section focused on artists and designers whose work prioritises social design and the responsibledevelopmentofmaterials. It’s not as niche as it sounds. More than ever, young designers are looking at ways to combine environmental and social concerns. In Williams’s case, though, the outcome is more conspicuous than most: her high-end unisex streetwear has been shown on the catwalk since last January as part of the British Fashion Council’s official LondonMenswearschedule. Williams’s sharp and colourful garments are sold at the chicest of stores, including Browns in London and Galeries Lafayette in Paris, but they have inspired roots: made from the linings of bell tents discarded at a glamping site outside Bristol, or remaindered ribbon from a Midlands toy factory, sewn by women at Downview Prison in Brixton or at a rehab centre near Italy’s Adriatic coast. She visited the latter not long ago. “The assistant, who’s been selling my work since the first collection in 2017, said that people love it because it’s so bright,” she says. “Serena Williams had bought some. And the King of Morocco. Hebuysawovencoateveryseason.” Perhapsheknowsit’sbeenmadefrom books abandoned by the publishing house Hachette, and that 20 per cent of profits go back to the charity Bethany Williams has worked with. But for Williams, there’s nothing wrong with activism by stealth. “I quite like the idea that someone is contributing to women’s rehabilitation without knowing it,” she says. “But for me fashion has the ability to amplify ideas, because it has such a massive reach; everyone wears clothes. I love making, and I love textiles and taking something discarded and giving it time and love and making something new. But equally I am really invested in thesocialsideofmywork.” Williams begins each collection by finding an enterprise which agrees to work with her. For her autumn/winter 2019collection,itwasAdelaideHouse,a shelter in Liverpool for women leaving prison, where the 20 residents became part of the production process, and abstract versions of their faces were embroidered into reclaimed denim for thefinalgarments. The pieces she sent down the runway on January 4 this year, in a packed east London warehouse, reflect time spent with the Magpie Trust in Newham, where women with children under five aregiventemporaryaccommodation. “They are vulnerable people,” she says. “It is a way to bring knitting and sewing skills, and confidence, and I learn a lot from them too,” she says. She has cast models from TIH (There is Hope), an organisation that improves theprospectsofhomelesspeople.

Williams grew up on the Isle of Man with her mother, a pattern cutter, and her grandparents. “I was brought up to be socially and environmentally conscious,” she says. “The Isle of Man is a tiny community, we eat locally from small farms. It’s way of life that’s always made sense to me.” At Brighton Universityshestudiedfineartasacriticalpractice, “which was hard for me as I’m very dyslexic and I have to read something two or three times for it to go in,” she says.“Butitintroducedmetoartistslike the Copenhagen collective Superflex who intercept company systems and divert profits for good, to positive effect. It made me realise I wanted to create my own system where my passion lies — intextiles.” At the London College of Fashion, on the menswear MA course, she joined its Making for Change programme, which trains women in Downview Prison for jobs in the garment industry. (She has since hired a sample machinist from there.) She also researched numbers of

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[nataliehegert]

In this last of meeting places We grope together And avoid speech Gathered on this beach of the tumid river… This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper. — T.S. Eliot, The Hollow Man

Ah well, what matter, that’s what I always say, it will have been a happy day, after all, another happy day. — Samuel Beckett, Happy Days

In Nevil Shute’s 1957 novel, On the Beach, his characters—among the last people alive in the world after a hemispheric atomic war—live out their final days waiting for an inevitable cloud of radiation borne by global air currents to finally make its way to the southern tip of Australia. The book is boring and hopeless, as are these last humans puttering in their gardens to plant flowers that no one will ever see, taking on last minute efforts at self-improvement, worrying about sex and fidelity.

“Couldn’t anyone have stopped it?” the wife asks helplessly in their final hour.

“I don’t know…” her husband replies patronizingly. “Some kinds of silliness you just can’t stop,” he says, referring to the nuclear war that annihilated the planet.

The much-acclaimed opera-installation Sun & Sea (Marina), in the Lithuanian Pavilion at the 58th Venice Biennale, likewise portrays passive, helpless bystanders to the end of the world, but it is a much more ambiguous apocalypse. A group of disconnected vacationers lounge on the sand of a nameless beach—at first nothing seems amiss, but as they sing, the details of their world come into focus. “The colors of the sea and sky have changed,” they sing. The sea is “as green as a forest”—owing to the process of eutrophication1—the Great Barrier Reef is a “bleached, pallid whiteness.” They complain of sunburns and strange weather, airport delays and trash on the beach. Their concerns are immediate and minor, while the world is clearly falling apart around them.

While other depictions of a post-climate-disaster world succumb to visions of the apocalyptic sublime—such as Waterworld (1995), or Mad Max (1979)—Sun & Sea is decidedly restrained, non-epic, banal. Instead of a deliciously outlandish doomsday scenario, it is just a rather disappointing day at the beach. In both setting and attitude, the installation more closely recalls the absurdist play Happy Days by Beckett,2 which finds its protagonist buried in a mound of sand, furtively trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy in her life. Likewise, the characters of Sun & Sea, though they find it strange, have clearly adapted to the new normal. And while it is clear that “Everything is out of joint” in the climate, it seems there is nothing to be done (“There is so little one can do,” laments the protagonist of Happy Days). So, you might as well try to enjoy yourself: “After vacation, / Your hair shines, / Your eyes glitter, / Everything is fine,” they sing.

Staff Writer Natalie Hegert speaks with theater director Rugilė Barzdžiukaitė, playwright Vaiva Grainytė, and composer Lina Lapelytė about their Golden Lion-winning production and the message behind it.

Natalie Hegert: Not only has Sun & Sea received abundant and unanimous praise among the critics and the most prestigious prize at the Biennale, it is also proving to make a most lasting impression on spectators and continues to be talked about. Did you have any idea your contribution to the Biennale would be received like this?

Rugilė Barzdžiukaitė: This was beyond our expectations of course. Vaiva Grainyte˙: If you ask me, I felt our opera-performance might look distinguishing in the context of Biennale, but we did not have much time to think about success—the logistics and preparation were quite challenging and intense.

Lina Lapelytė: It was not an easy project and it was risky on many levels—so the jury team in Lithuania already was brave enough to select it. What happened during the first week of biennale feels like something that almost does not belong to us. Someone said, It is a Cinderella story.

This was definitely not written in our scenario. Before the opening, we were preparing our performers to be ready for an almost empty pavilion and find a joy in performing if there was only one member of the audience. Now during the performance days, we receive an average of 1,300 people. Every role on the beach has to have at least three people able to perform it.

NH: Why did you create this as an opera, as opposed to another kind of performance art, theatrical spectacle, or visual art? How did you approach its staging within the context of the Biennale—to place it among what is primarily a showcase of visual arts? Was it much different from its first staging, in Lithuania (besides the language)?

Vaiva Grainytė: Our trio started with debut piece Have a Good Day! (2014)—a contemporary opera for ten singing cashiers, supermarket sounds, and piano. I find opera to be the perfect genre for us to unite our artistic practices (text, music, and visuality). Nonetheless, the durational version of Sun & Sea crosses the boundaries of other arts. ‘Opera,’ I would say, indicates the marriage of different arts, but this piece itself can be called something else: installation, architectural poetry, concert…

LL: Opera is a very particular place for the three of us—we kind of invented a method of working in this genre. Opera is as visual art as any other kind of installation, sculpture, or painting. The genre itself often belongs to the music world but personally, in my own practice, prefer to look at music—opposed to the idea that it is only for listening. Opera is literature; it is music; it is fine arts. It is a gesamtkunstwerk, and none of the features are more important than the other.

RB: Sun & Sea grew from the visual, and still is a very visual work. Other elements—mainly text and music—bring different layers, form-wise, so the work becomes more complex. However, in this complexity we seek for simplicity.

NH: One of the things that is so striking is the opera’s placidness. There seem to be no great highs or lows, no climax or crescendo, no great emotion expressed. The singers are, for the most part, singing while lying down. There is very little movement, most of it being incidental, and the musical accompaniment is minimal. Even the scenery is quite pared down—there is simply sand, with no unusual lighting or representation of the kind of toxic sea that is suggested by the libretto. It is anti-apocalyptic, but also almost anti-theatrical. Can you tell me why you decided to present it in this way?

RB: You have put it in very right words. We have static bodies, but very often their minds are active, transforming from reminiscences to reflections, dreams, etc. Waves of these inner monologues grow into choirs, then flood back into solos again. Performers are static while they are singing, but other times they are free to move alongside kids, dogs, and other volunteers who are building castles, playing beach games, eating, etc. This brings uncontrolled reality into the fictional construct.

LL: In our case, the representation is based on a very clear conceptual grounding—all the further details of the work follow that concept. We try to restrain ourselves from using self-oriented tricks and effects; therefore, most of the details are there because of the true necessity.

VG: The light picture of lazy holidays is just a surface: we are sunbathing while the world is crashing.

NH: What kind of research into climate change and its effects did you undertake to imagine the world of Sun & Sea?

LL: The research spanned from mainstream media, scientific investigations, personal views, experiences and dreams, and conversations and reflections.

VG: Before writing the libretto, the research was done. It was necessary to understand what CO2, emissions and food miles are, and why our planet is in its current state. After dealing with that scientific information, we came up with the realization that catastrophe is caused by our—homo sapiens—uncontrollable consumption. Consumption, which is so pleasant and stands as the core of our lives. The idea was to reveal the tragedy by personal approach, employing micro-stories, as ecology is such a huge topic. That is to say, disastrous pictures of dying and choked-in-plastic animals seem to be too anonymous, too difficult for our brains to process what is happening.

RB: Climate change is such a popular topic, but we did not want to manifest scientific facts, or to be moralistic. It was important to deepen the knowledge in this field. We were reading specific literature, but Sun & Sea is not about facts at all. It is about mundane narratives of holidaymakers, surrounded by apocalypse. But on a daily basis [it reflects something] other than that.

NH: What kind of message did you set out to impart? Do you feel that the installation gives any sense of hope for our future? Or is this scene something of a foregone conclusion for our world?

VG: It is up to each spectator to read the message on their own. The mosaic of characters and their songs suggest a kaleidoscopic approach, so there is no conclusion or “one truth” as such.

RB: To expand the beach topic in a global perspective: sunbathing may soon become available where polar bears used to live. I think we are neither giving a sense of hope for the future, nor taking it away. We do not know the right answer, and this is probably our luck.

LL: The work is a question, but also a reflection, on where we are and who we are, but the hope is in every one of us. In the tiny things, the love that we all share. Though that love must also be super critical and questioning many things that are taken for granted. It is hard!

NH: You three have worked together before, on the opera Have a Good Day!, and Sun & Sea is your second collaboration. In light of your spectacular success, do you have plans to work together again?

VG: Success might breed rush and greediness, but our trio is rather slow in terms of developing a new piece. Each piece needs time and mental energy so it could grow in a healthy way. After this prolonged Venetian adventure (the performance is running twice a week until the end of October) we need some time to reflect on what has happened, plus a tour with Sun & Sea will require special attention. We have some ideas for a new work, so probably one day it will be embodied.

RB: Each of us have individual practices, which are extremely important for our common work; everything we learn separately we bring in as an experience. I think we all need some separate creative space and time before considering going into the next trio work.

LL: We do not force the situation and it may take some time for us to come up with a new idea for a collaborative work. The fact that we all have individual practices makes things slower, but also creates a real need for coming back together.

The Pavilion of Lithuania, Sun & Sea (Marina), at the Venice Biennale runs through October 31, 2019.

1. An effect of particular concern to the Baltic Sea, on whose coast Lithuania is situated.

2. Whose title, perhaps coincidentally, finds echoes in the Lithuanian artists’ first opera, Have a Good Day! (2014).

Interview Posted on 9/19/2019, Printed in THE SEEN Issue 09, September 2019

[juniorformulamotorsport]

Tuesday, 28th May 2019 – The Luggage Room, London; Hide, London

Having had a relatively quite few months to start 2019 it’s all kicking off now with theatres and restaurants and films and literature and food festivals to attend, and parties coming at us from all sides. In addition, there seem to be lots of foodie events all vying for our attention. This, a Hardens Invites event, was too good to resist, with dinner at the relatively new – and very swanky – Hide on offer. This was to celebrate the restaurant being 1 year old, and thus in addition to the usual crowd who had responded to the invitation by buying a couple of tickets, there were some of the regulars including the delightful couple we found ourselves seated next to, Dame Rosalyn Higgins (Rosalyn C. Higgins, Baroness Higgins, GBE, QC, former President of the International Court of Justice) and her husband, Terrence Higgins (Terence Langley Higgins, Baron Higgins, KBE, DL, PC, a former Conservative MP, Commonwealth Games silver medalist winner for and Olympian). I’m not one to be impressed by titles, and I’m not exactly a Conservative politically (quite the opposite in fact), but they were terrific company and utterly fascinating people.

Anyway, to return to the subject of dinner. The tickets were £150 each and included a drinks reception, and a five course tasting menu (six if you included the canapés) and matching wines (which they were very generous with). Given that a normal night would see you pay £115 for 7 courses, and that before you’d so much as touched a glass of wine, it seemed like a not unreasonable deal to me.

Lynne and I had arranged to meet up in advance across town in The Luggage Room, the very pleasant cocktail bar hidden away in a corner of the Marriott Hotel on Grosvenor Square, where we were served an interesting selection of drinks by what seemed to be some of London’s most charming bar staff. I arrived first and so whiled away the time reading, scrolling through my Twitter feed, and drinking The Bramble, made so the list tells me, to a recipe from 1984, invented by Dick Bradsell, and containing Fords gin, lime, and blackberry. I can only tolerate gin in cocktails, not on its own, and this was a fine if light concoction. It also contained a vast single ice cube, which is apparently a thing too!

By the time Lynne arrived I was ready for a second drink and so decided I would try the rather luridly named Midsummer’s Wet Dream, a mixture of Absolut Elyx vodka, Swedish Punsch, peach, lingonberry, malic acid and  bitters. It was a pale pink and tasted beautifully of the lingonberries, which was what I was hoping for!

Lynne chose a Penicillin (Chivas 12 year whisky, Laphroaig Quarter Cask whisky, ginger, honey, lemon) which was aptly named and slightly medicinal in taste – mind you, given it seems to mostly contain the ingredients you’d put in a hot toddy if you had a bad cold, this is nor especially surprising. The recipe comes from Sam Ross’s time at the now-defunct New York branch of Milk & Honey, more specifically in 2005.

For her second drink she went for a rather more conventional Snow White (Green Spot whiskey, Perrier-Jouët Grand Brut Champagne, apple) on the reasoning that she would be best staying with whisky and not changing spirits mid-session. She was probably right!

I settled for a glass of Perrier-Jouët Grand Brut NV, to keep it simple.

Once we were ready to head to the restaurant, the concierge very efficiently found us a taxi and we were soon inside the building which I must have passed numerous times while running, but which I’ve never noticed before, so discreet it is. We were invited in and shown up the fabulous staircase, which feels very organic, very hobitty almost. I didn’t get a photo – there were too many people moving around – so I nabbed this one from their website instead.

We were greeted at the top of the stairs by waiting staff with trays of Gusbourne Blanc de Blancs 2014, from Kent, a very popular wine at these sort of events, and apparently served at the 2012 London Olympics opening party and at Buckingham Palace for visiting heads of state. It’s around £12-16 a glass on many wine lists, and seems to be hard to find outside restaurant wine lists and Liz II’s gaff, or at £59 a bottle from the makers! It’s also very good, biscuity in the same way the best Champagnes are, with a massive citrus hit and a hint of apple. With it we were served canapés, most specifically an excellent tempura softshell crab with a marigold and green peppercorn dressing. We made our way to our table in one of the private dining rooms at the back of the room to eat these because napkins or no they were not something you could attempt standing up with a glass in your other hand!

Of the warm Spenwood cheese gougères, I can say nothing, because we never did see any. I think this was a bit of a shame, and suggested that the staff are not especially au fait with trying to serve a roomful of people who will keep milling around, rather than having a captive audience seated at the tables. They were sweetly apologetic about it, but we never did get the gougères!

We stayed with the Blanc de Blancs for the first “course”, the staff enthusiastically topping up our glasses, something that doesn’t always happen in the grander and more expensive restaurants.

Baskets of fresh bread arrived (bread and broth), along with some whipped butter, and everyone tucked in happily, first tackling the refreshing strawberry gazpacho as per the instructions of our waiter.

We were also served “vegetables” which included lightly pickled radish, beetroot and yellow courgettes, fresh peas and some lettuce to dip into a camomile dressing. They recommended we get as messy as we wanted!

Finally we had “flesh & bone” with home-cured meats wrapped around a licorice root (saddleback pork with oregano & fennel seed) or a goose feather (goose with sage & fenugreek). It was a substantial start, as well as very good. The pescetarian next to me was losing out though, as he wasn’t given any sort of substitute for the flesh and bone.

Our next course was a delicately cooked portion of alliums, served in a chilled pine infusion that looked good when it first hit the table.

It looked even better when the infusion was added. The flavours were mild and sweet and the petals of the onions still had a good crunch to them. A further upside was that it was a small dish after the starters, and the bread I had left mopped up the sauce perfectly. With it we drank a 2015 Trimbach Riesling Cuvée M Grand Cru, a gorgeous example of an Alsace Riesling, with that rich fruitiness you often get, but in a fresher, lighter style than some. It can be bought at £39.80 a bottle, which strikes me as not unreasonable, given the quality of the wine.

The next course saw a return (in a small way) to the yellow courgettes, this time thinly sliced and covered with a perfectly-executed piece of steamed turbot, served sitting on a pool of crushed nasturtium broth. There were a couple of peppery nasturtium leaves to add a punch to the dish, and a nasturtium flower or two as well and it was nicely balanced without in any way scaring the horses. It was intelligent, classical use of ingredients, and my only regret was that there wasn’t a bigger piece of fish. You don’t mess with turbot, and they hadn’t, keeping it simple and letting it speak for itself.

Wine-wise we were now in Spain, with a lighter Encina del Ingles Blanco La Melonera 2016, which felt a little thin after the Riesling. It was pleasant enough but I wasn’t that excited about it compared to the previous wine.

The next dish up was the last of the savoury courses, a pinkly barbequed piece of roast Herdwick lamb, with charred runner beans and a savoury pine nut praline. The meat was too pink for our companions, but Lynne and I both loved it. The runner beans, not so much, but then I’m not a fan of things that are charred in the main (or as I call them, burnt). The nut praline was a stroke of genius though, delicious, savoury, with a softness that coated the lamb perfectly. As for the lamb, as I say, we both loved it. It was just the right shade of pink, still tender but not bloody.

The wine with it was a Portuguese wine, and as such a relatively light wine in colour terms, though it packed quite a hefty wallop of flavour. It was a Quinta do Crasti Vinhas Velhas 2015, Douro, Portugal and I would be more than happy to drink it regularly. We’re off to Porto in a month’s time and I may have to try and buy from them while we’re there, especially as a day trip to the vineyard looks like a possibility.

And so to dessert, which ironically was the heaviest dish of the meal. It was a mousse of avocado, pistachio and white chocolate, and it was very dense and sticky, with an almost bread-like texture in places. I liked it very much, though I struggled to finish it.

The final wine was a triumph, a Tokaj Classic Late Harvest 2009, Tokaji, Hungary, which was described elsewhere as “botrytis agogo”, for a wine that is made in the same style as a Sauternes, rather than in the way Tokaji wines are usually made. With an extended aging process as well, the result was superb!

That just left coffee, tea and petit fours! We both declined the caffeinated drinks (I don’t touch coffee after lunch, not if I want to sleep anyway) but the petit fours were mighty fine, with marshmallows on sticks, and tiny Portuguese custard tarts. They were very cute, and delicious, with great pastry. They were also the final straw, as it were, and neither of us could have eaten another thing.

We legged it to the station, struggling to stay away during the journey and made it home around 1 in the morning, full of food and having had a great evening.

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Food 2019 – The Luggage Room, London; Hide, London Tuesday, 28th May 2019 - The Luggage Room, London; Hide, London Having had a relatively quite few months to start 2019 it's all kicking off now with theatres and restaurants and films and literature and food festivals to attend, and parties coming at us from all sides.

[frye47wiberg-blog]

What Is actually A Natural Flavor?

Among break in state funding and also university tuition treks, university athletics systems are under the gun to cash themselves along with earned income or even make winning periods. I've discovered that having such a strategy assists me in order to get a take care of on part measurements without must fanatically document every single item of meals I eat, smell, or deal with. I quit stressing over thread and consumed just as they suggest being sure fat had to do with 70% as well as carbohydrates 5ish as well as I located I do not wish bunches of food items (two times a day leadings) as well as young one fats are about 1,500. Several of the bigger meals firms are moneying healthy and balanced eating and workout advertising projects, via sites, books as well as pamphlets. They clarified that rice is for the laborers ... unsatisfactory folks's food when I probed even further. 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This aids youngsters develop important lifestyle abilities as well as strengthen their odds for a better future all through sporting activities. The body weight you're gaining could merely be attributed to the weight from the meals you're taking into your physical body as well as water increase. Last year's very most hotly opposed reward was the Enell sporting activities breast support, as given away through Much less Jump. ROBERT VICKERS: Well, we would certainly been actually seeing sufficient from one another that we understood there was one thing serious in this, and also I will must discuss somehow the horrendous harm to my left leg. have a peek here trained a community innovator, brought wells to three areas and also nourished over 200 orphanhoods with new, organic food. This goal is actually utilized for preparing approach not just for how they plan to develop economically, but also how they envision the lifestyle for their staff, their community, the food items and the setting and also service they offer their guests. All you'll need to have for this no-bake recipe are actually a food processor and also a handful of substances. Eyeing http://szepseg-divat-blog.info that there is actually a link between terrible sports as well as dating misuse one of university sportsmens, the researchers validated that this affiliation likewise exists in adolescent athletes. That is actually now to 192, mainly thanks to work out, plus right now carrying out a meals daily record- eating as I claimed previously 2000 fats a day. OF SYDNEY: You could exercise on the back of an envelope that our company're not mosting likely to possess sufficient meals in Two Decade' time, without a doubt. I am actually ecstatic and also the feelings around food items I usually have actually certainly not participated in this in all. If you cant obtain your food processor/blender going, include a little sprinkle of milk to aid traits along. There are actually diet plans in which you can quit real food items and change that along with powder food items" that you eat twice a day in addition to a practical" dinner (because every little thing else you do on this diet plan is sensible," right?). I prefer all of them to become delighted, healthy and balanced, and also effective; and also I absolutely think that sports teach the lifestyle abilities essential to earn that occur! Karp JR, Johnston JD, Tecklenburg S. International publication from sporting activity nutrition and also physical exercise metabolic rate, 2006, Jun.; 16( 1):1526 -484 X. Having one bite from food items (and also he establishes exactly how tiny or significant it is actually), adhered to through HIM making the selection on whether to proceed consuming or otherwise sounds very reasonable to me. And as I have actually currently said he frequently finds that he ases if the food and also goes ahead to eat everything. One location where on the web impact is actually only entering exam is sporting activities as well as sports advertising. Our team possessed a breast support enhancing gathering final Sunday - Dirty Dance, Chinese food items and an ocean of bangles, fluff and also taffetta. So our company look to feature the youngsters on every little thing from growing/canning meals to phone capabilities to internet research. The diet pyramid informs us to consume primarily breads and also cereals while many nourishment experts (myself consisted of) inform our team to consume mainly plants. My strikes were actually weak and also my boots had to do with as effective as a chihuahua lifting its leg to pee on an automobile tyre, but I was actually an eager attendee and also was actually very soon addicted. In a similar way, there was a time when sporting activity in countries like the United States or even South Africa was actually played in white colored and dark, certainly not in terms of television protection, however in relations to ethnological partition. Lots of food companies are actually modifying food items so it meets benchmark specifications like the Soul Structure's tick tag. You will certainly have additional time to perform awesome traits as soon as you no more obsess regarding food items 24/7. Salute along with a little bit of almond butter, an item of entire fruit product, a glass from dairy, or a sporting activity cocktail could assist receive you going and also still be absorbed before you work out. Right now where a bunch of these debates seem to merge is actually the activity from ice hockey, a game which, while certainly not participated in considerably down right here in Australia, is the national sport of Canada. The bistros are actually regularly open and also the all-you-can-eat smorgasbords promote sizable platters loaded higher with meals. Lots of people emailed me advising this and that coconut oil, shea butter, odds and ends lotion, this or even that meals and so on Up until now this is actually been actually utilized in specialist sports organizations consisting of the NFL and NHL and even the U.S. military, where that is actually even more vital to stay concentrated and also produce simple decisions. The ladies typically aren't any kind of smaller sized though, creating that a problem to discover breast supports that match.

[placetobenation]

Each week, members of the Place to Be Nation staff come together to watch a professional wrestling show from the past as a group. As they watch and interact, they also track their grades and overall thoughts in various categories along the way. We will regularly be bringing you their output here in a variety of projects and entries.

Anarchy Rulz 1999 (Viewed October 4, 2018)

Card: Jerry Lynn vs. Lance Storm Jazz vs. Tom Marquez Chris Chetti & Nova vs. Simon Diamond & Tony DeVito Super Crazy vs. Taijiri vs. Little Guido Sabu vs. Justin Credible Masato Tanaka vs. Mike Awesome vs. Taz – ECW World Title Match Tommy Dreamer & Raven vs. Rhino & Steve Corino – ECW Tag Team Title Match Rob Van Dam vs. Balls Mahoney – ECW TV Title Match

What Worked

JT Rozzero: Tanaka’s outfit is so very 1998; Dawn Marie hache mache; Smarmy Lance Storm showing some bravado and personality was cool to see; Storm working Jerry Lynn’s ribs; Baller Jazz; Classic ECW flowing from one match into another bridged by a quick angle; Danny Doring’s bomb ass pink tights; New Jack wrecking shit; Big Fucking Sal E; Give me Tajiri vs. Crazy vs. Guido all day; Crazy’s perfect moonsault into the crowd; The ref working so hard to get Guido’s dead body out of the ring; Tajiri is amzing; Sabu just doing whatever the fuck he wants to his body and Credible’s; Credible getting splattered across a table and just sliding down in a heap; The streamers for Tanaka were cool; Taz telling the fans to shut the fuck up and the wild build to Awesome getting added to the match; Taz gathering all the heat and then getting knocked out of the match right away and then walking away in near tears; The crowning of Awesome; The in depth recap of Dreamer vs. Raven; Francine smashing Jack Victory with a chair; Main event was fine but anticlimactic

Tyler Kelley: This is DIFFERENT than WWE’s been for 15ish years (different look, feel, pacing and style) and it’s a breath of fresh air. Lance Storm and Jerry Lynn have a really good technical opener. Tajiri kicking people’s fucking heads off. Tajiri/Super Crazy/Guido is a super smooth, fun match. Also, Tajiri’s brainbuster, and Tajiri overall, f’n rules. Sabu’s bat-shit crazy high-flyin’ crash and burn style and connection with the crowd. The on-the-fly addition of Mike Awesome to the title match giving you a feeling that anything can happen. Awesome and Tanaka killing themselves and each other for our viewing pleasure. Awesome looks like a motherfucking killer here (as opposed to the Fat Chick Thriller he became once the WCW marketing geniuses got a hold of him), Raven’s promo and the Raven-Dreamer video package, RVD looks like a huge star compared to everyone else on this PPV, RVD has the “It” factor.

Trent Williams: The team of Cyrus & Joey Styles on commentary, while Joey was great on his own for all those years it never hurts to have a second man in the booth to interact with and Cyrus was the perfect choice. Really good opener with two all time underrated talents. The international three way, because any match with Tajiri and Super Crazy going against each other is guaranteed to be good. The pre-match shenanigans with Taz and Mike Awesome. Taz leaving the promotion with class and the entire locker room coming out to thank him. Axl Rotten getting the fans to quit chanting “Fuck you Taz” and telling them to get on their feet for all Taz did for ECW. The crazy match Awesome and Tanaka put on after Taz was eliminated early. The video package recapping the Dreamer vs Raven feud. RVD getting a good match out of a guy that is usually nothing more than a brawling garbage wrestler. Majority of the show was really good and definitely the best show we have watched for the Live Watch Project yet.

Tim Slomka: First time I’ve ever watched a ECW PPV and what I got what I expected with crazy hardcore spots, booking as quick as possible, crazy crowd chants; Dawn’s dress; “Is there a real pair in the business” line; giving Tazz a quality send off (can’t think of another wrestler who go that who wasn’t retiring); Lita; Epic feel of title match, including most wrestlers on the ramp for it (this is my favorite thing); all the performers who really gave their bodies for ECW, some of the spots were stupid, this isn’t my cup of tea, but A+ for effort from these guys and girls – especially Jazz.  

Jacob Williams: Hot opener with great fire, selling, and an overall crispness you don’t always get from ECW; Keeping the big garbage brawl pretty short; Overall solid commentary with some great Cyrus lines -”He could be Sal’s suppository”; Super Crazy’s beautiful moonsault into the crowd; All of Tajiri’s offense; ECW elimination rules for triple threat; Sabu/Justin Credible bringing some ECW ridiculousness to show; Epic feel of the ECW title match; Awesome being added last minute; The #hossfight after Taz is eliminated; Tanaka taking some insane bumps; Overall presentation and execution of the world title match; Bringing up years-old footage to build up Raven; RVD’s charisma

Stacey O’Loughlin: Lance Storm being near his peak here; Jerry Lynn selling the ribs; a Jazz sighting; the neverending tag team clusterfuck with the run ins; a Lita sighting; New Jack fucking shit up; Super Crazy and Tajiri working like madmen; Sabu being Sabu; the crazy ass ECW Title booking; Awesome and Tanaka continuing to try to murder each other; the nice Taz send off; skinny Steve Corino; young Rhino; JOEL GERTNER; the Dreamer/Raven recap; RVD being RVD; Balls getting to have a workrate match; the overall chaotic ECW feel; and above all, Jennifer Smith discovering ECW before our very eyes

Logan Crosland: Jerry Lynn and Lance Storm tearing it up in the opener; Cyrus and Joey are great on commentary; Two awesome three way matches; Taz got a great send off; Both of the garbage matches were short; RVD being over like rover; Raven/Dreamer rivalry recap

Neil Trama: Lance Storm’s RASSLIN; wild three-way-dance craziness; even more wild world championship three-way-dance craziness; Taz’s send off; Justin Credible, Rhino and skinny Steve Corino; RVD’s main event aura

Steve Riddle: CYRUS THE VIRUS!!, This felt like a big show for ECW just weeks after getting on national TV; this was easily Lance Storm’s best stretch sans his WCW run in 2000; gotta love the ECW crowds and their chants; Jazz is ECW’s version of Chyna on a smaller scale; Angelica looking good before she became Lita; Danny Doring and Roadkill were a very underrated tag team; New Jack, SAL E. GRAZ, Tajiri + Super Crazy + Little Guido = utter awesomeness; Steve Corino, Jack Victory, and Rhino are a unique trio; only Credible would take a forfeit win and celebrate like he won the world title; Sabu still has dangerous as ever, big showing of faith for Awesome to make him the new champion; Awesome and Tanaka still have great chemistry, cool moment having the roster on the ramp to see Taz off and cool seeing Taz put Awesome over strong; pretty cool seeing the history of the Dreamer/Raven feud even though it ended two years ago; Rhino looking spry and full of energy; the Impact Players were pretty awesome by this point; at least Balls Mahoney seemed like more of a threat to RVD than Johnny Smith; clearly having RVD in the last match shows he’s the big star for ECW now

What Didn’t Work

JT Rozzero: Jerry Lynn’s awkward DDT onto a chair, the positioning was off and looked forced; Simon Diamond looks like a cross between a basic CAW and a tiny regional indy opening match dude here; Tom Marquez’s absurd selling; Nova in green; Jason still hanging around doing the same shit, but with a goatee; Justin Credible beating down the ring announcer felt a bit forced, like him as a whole; Credible using “suck it”; Credible as ECW’s Triple H; “You Sold Out” chants; As insane and wild as they were at the time, the chairshots to Tanaka are tough to watch; Jeff Jones is a clown; I wasn’t feeling Tommy Dreamer’s promo; Fans didn’t seem very into Raven at all; The World Title match should have closed the show, the crowd was burned after that; Balls Mahoney never felt like a legit threat and as a result the main event felt more like an exhibition showcase

Tyler Kelley: Holy shit is Simon Diamond a tool, he makes Justin Diamond look cool. Diamond insulting Jazz’s “flat chest and ghetto booty.” Simon SHOULDN’T say (anything really.) I have no idea who the babyfaces or heels were in the tag team match? Matches? General clusterfuck mess? I’m not even sure what matches to rank, people just kept coming out of the dressing room and I have no clue what the feuds were if there were any feuds. Justin Credible’s half-shirt-jorts combo, which might be his worst look since he wore a jockstrap on his face. Also he wore a mask as Aldo Montoya, but that’s unrelated. Justin Credible’s offense. Dreamer/Raven vs. Corino/Rhyno match. Axl Rotten promo as the show structure as the show fell off a cliff after the Taz/Awesome/Tanaka match. Closing the show with a Balls Mahoney match. RVD hadn’t quite pared the stupid out of his offense (like carrying a chair in a flip only to drop it to be powerbombed on it later or doing an Asai moonsault to land on his feet and pick up a chair). RVD/Balls match about 15 minutes too long. Ended show on a cold note compared to vibe after title match.

Trent Williams: The entire cluster that happened between Simon Diamond making his entrance and New Jack leaving the ring, all of that took away from this being in consideration for one of the best PPVs of all time. The promo Simon Diamond cuts on Jazz doesn’t age well. The ECW Tag Team Championship match had a chance to be good on paper, but it was over before it really began, although there was a great match between Raven and the ring ropes as he tried to enter the ring. The ECW Championship match not closing the show as wrapping up the show with the end of one era (Taz) and the beginning of a new era (Mike Awesome) would’ve been a great thing to have as the main event, RVD vs Balls wasn’t great enough or memorable enough to close the show. If they had done a RVD vs Jerry Lynn match then I would’ve been fine with the TV Title closing the show, but not Balls.

Tim Slomka: The whole second match being an overbooked mess; random music just playing mid match; the bell ringing throughout; beating up of Jazz doesn’t look so good either; although there is a great comment by them: “Are we off format again”; chair shots to the head; the music; main event being heatless (though I don’t mind the Tazz match in the middle); this was the era, but way to many kickouts of finish moves, especially in the Sabu match; the whistle

Jacob Williams: Missing member of Lit; Simon Diamond and his sideburns; The complete mess of brawl with New Jack and friends; Most people in the brawl looking like jobbers; Sabu and Justin Credible dragging on too long; Ending with RVD vs. Balls; The brutal chair shots to the head through 2018 eyes; Justin Credible as a big time heel; Dreamer’s overly babyface promo feels off for the tone of ECW; Uncomfortably misogynist crowd responses

Stacey O’Loughlin: Dorks like Simon Diamond, Tom Marquez, Tony DeVito and Jason hanging around; Justin Credible; all of the disgusting chairshots right to the brain cells; Network overdubs; not knowing what was happening half the time; the last couple matches being an anticlimax; misogyny

Logan Crosland: The whole second match mess with Simon Diamond and Jazz; New Jack’s existence; Credible going over Sabu; Not ending with the world title three way; If you weren’t going to end with that, you need to choose someone better than Balls to go against RVD; Raven not being more involved with the tag match

Neil Trama: The tag team match that ended with 30 random guys getting in the ring; New Jack’s overdubbed Network music; Balls Mahoney in the main event; peak-1999 gratuitous bullshit chairshots and man on woman violence

Steve Riddle: Why is Simon Diamond around?; obviously seeing man on woman violence in 2018 feels so wrong when it was well accepted in 1999; flowing from one segment to the next was fine once in a while, but ECW went way overboard with it at times; Nova wearing a Green Lantern ripoff outfit; using a staple gun was way too much; Justin Credible: ECW’s most overrated superstar; a bit weird Awesome was added at the last minute and having the ECW Title match in the middle of the show; tough for ECW to lose their top star only a few weeks after losing their top tag team in the Dudleyz; I get Taz was leaving but he was made to look like a bitch here losing so quickly; Dreamer and Raven as Tag Champions just doesn’t feel right as they feel like natural rivals; as great as Francine is, her as Dreamer’s valet seems bizarre as no one can replace Beulah; random time for Axl Rotten to call out Mike Awesome; RVD/Balls should probably been in the middle of the show and not the last match; to do a bit of fantasy booking I would’ve had Taz retain the title and have a unification match with RVD at the next PPV where he puts RVD over clean as the new top face of ECW

Match of the Night

JT Rozzero: Tajiri vs. Super Crazy vs. Little Guido Tyler Kelley: Tajiri vs. Super Crazy vs. Little Guido Trent Williams: Tajiri vs. Super Crazy vs. Little Guido Tim Slomka: Awesome vs Tanaka vs Taz Jacob Williams: Awesome vs Tanaka vs Taz Stacey O’Loughlin: Tajiri vs. Super Crazy vs. Little Guido Logan Crosland: Awesome vs Tanaka vs Taz Neil Trama: Tajiri vs. Super Crazy vs. Little Guido Steve Riddle: Tajiri vs. Super Crazy vs. Little Guido

Worst Match of the Night

JT Rozzero: Chris Chetti & Nova vs. Simon Diamond & Tony Devito Tyler Kelley: Chris Chetti & Nova vs. Simon Diamond & Tony Devito Trent Williams: Chris Chetti & Nova vs. Simon Diamond & Tony Devito Tim Slomka: Chris Chetti & Nova vs. Simon Diamond & Tony Devito Jacob Williams: Chris Chetti & Nova vs. Simon Diamond & Tony Devito Stacey O’Loughlin: Chris Chetti & Nova vs. Simon Diamond & Tony Devito Logan Crosland: Chris Chetti & Nova vs. Simon Diamond & Tony Devito Neil Trama: Chris Chetti & Nova vs. Simon Diamond & Tony Devito Steve Riddle: Chris Chetti & Nova vs. Simon Diamond & Tony Devito

MVP of the Night

JT Rozzero: Mike Awesome Tyler Kelley: Mike Awesome Trent Williams: Masato Tanaka Tim Slomka: Masato Tanaka Jacob Williams: Mike Awesome Stacey O’Loughlin: Super Crazy Logan Crosland: Mike Awesome Neil Trama: Mike Awesome & Masato Tanaka Steve Riddle: Rob Van Dam

Best Live Chat Comment of the Night

JT Rozzero: “Blood adds a star” – Jennifer Smith Tyler Kelley: “His mullet was too great not to be in the match.” – Jambalaya Jake Trent Williams: “I never knew Taz and Sting had the same first name of This Is” – Tyler Kelly Tim Slomka: “His mullet was too great not to be in the match.” – Jambalaya Jake Jacob Williams: “So much blow.” – Tim Slomka Stacey O’Loughlin: “What the hell is happening??” – Literally everyone at some point Logan Crosland: “Is that the White Trash Green Lantern?” – Jennifer Smith Neil Trama: “Is that the White Trash Green Lantern?” – Jennifer Smith Steve Riddle: “Future Rapist Dawn” – Stacey O’Loughlin

Show Grade

JT Rozzero: 7/10 Tyler Kelley: 7/10 Trent Williams: 8/10 Tim Slomka: 6/10 Jacob Williams: 7/10 Stacey O’Loughlin: 7/10 Logan Crosland: 7/10 Neil Trama: 6/10 Steve Riddle: 7.5/10

Match Grades

JT Rozzero: ***½; ¼*; *¼; ****; ***; ***¾; **; *** Tyler Kelley: ***½, DUD, ½*, ****, ***, ****, *¾, ** Trent Williams: ***3/4, DUD, DUD, ****, ***¼, ***½, *, *** Tim Slomka: ****, ½*, **, ***, ****, *, ** Jacob Williams: ***½, ½*, ½*, ***¾, **½, ****, **, **½ Stacey O’Loughlin: ***½ , *, **½ , ****, ***, ***½, *½, ** Logan Crosland: ***½, ¼*, ¼*,***¾ , ***, ****, **, ** Neil Trama: ***, *, *, **** ¼, ***, ****, **, ** ¾ Steve Riddle: ***½, DUD, DUD, ****, ***, ***½, *½, ***½