#Salt Spring Saturday Market

[luvrodite]

Hello Ro, my beloved!! I come once again with self-ship thoughts. Ok so, on saturday I went to Comic Con and I couldn’t stop thinking about going with Eddie — riding the train with him and holding hands as we take pictures and enjoy walking around the grounds and explore the activities. So it got me thinking, do you and Jason have a specific event that you look forward to going together?

A concert? Farmer’s market? A con? And if so, what would that day trip be like?

Ps. I saw lots of guys dressed as Nightwing and I couldn’t help but think about you. No Jasons spotted though

hi irma!!!!!!!!!!! how are you!!!!! going to (i'm assuming) sdcc must have been so fun!!! it was my biggest dream in 2015/2016 like it was so peak i remember all the tv shows i watched were in their prime at the time and i wanted to go SO BADLY!!! that sounds sosososo cool i hope you had the best time!!! i love that you thought about going with eddie because i 1000000% would have thought about taking jason with me too :(( <333

i think jason and i would probably have very different tastes in music (with some overlap of course) so maybe not a concert? ALTHOUGH i think i could convince him to come with me to certain artists' concerts like hozier, noah kahan, florence + the machine <- because i think he'd appreciate the lyricism and they seem like fairly chill environments too so he'd be able to have a good time even if he didn't know all the songs.

i think some of the things we'd look forward to would probably be summer and trips to the beach (i'm passenger princess-ing it) and just pretty spring mornings where we get to go to slightly overpriced, hipster cafes to get brunch and then run errands?

i also like the idea of bringing him on family holidays :(( he'd enjoy the sun and swimming soooo much, i think it would be so good for him!! he deserves to be posted on a beach downing a kajillion slices of fruit and swimming until he's almost raw from the sun and salt

i'm going to a wedding in august and i'm also thinking about bringing him with me and making him bring tissues so i can cry in peace because i'm one of those people who cry at weddings

p.s nightwing cosplayers are so fine it's ridiculous!!!!!! like please sir just a chance? (jason look away)

love u babe!! thank you for the selfship question, i literally smiled so hard when i saw it in my inbox!!!

[comparewing]

Cheap Flights to Portland From $49 — Fly Smart, Travel Better

Dreaming of exploring Portland without blowing your budget? Great news — it’s totally possible. With cheap flights to Portland starting at just $49, getting to this quirky, scenic, and totally Instagram-worthy city is easier than ever.

Whether you're a foodie, a nature lover, or just looking for a fun weekend escape, Portland, Oregon delivers big on charm and low on cost — especially when you book your flight with CompareWings.

Portland on a Budget? Yes, Please!

Portland is one of those cities that feels both laid-back and exciting at the same time. And when you can fly to Portland for under $50, it’s a no-brainer. You’ll find a mix of outdoor adventure, creative culture, and a food scene that punches way above its weight.

Why Book Cheap Flights to Portland?

Save money for craft beer, food trucks, and boutique shopping

Great for solo travelers, couples, and families alike

Direct flights from major cities across the U.S.

A perfect launch point for road trips to the Oregon coast or Mount Hood

First Things First: Where Do You Land?

All flights into Portland arrive at:

Portland International Airport (PDX)

Code: PDX

Location: Just 12 miles from downtown Portland

Perks: Free Wi-Fi, great food options, and clean, modern design

Transit: The MAX Red Line light rail gets you downtown in about 40 minutes

PDX has been rated one of the best airports in the country — it’s clean, efficient, and easy to navigate.

Where to Find Cheap Flights to Portland

Some of the best flight deals to Portland come from:

Las Vegas to Portland – from $49

Los Angeles to Portland – from $55

Phoenix to Portland – from $52

Denver to Portland – from $69

San Francisco to Portland – from $65

Salt Lake City to Portland – from $58

Want the best prices? Use CompareWings to see real-time fares and book when the price is right.

When to Book for the Best Deals

The cost of a flight can swing a lot depending on when you book. Here's how to score the lowest prices:

Book 3 to 6 weeks ahead of your trip

Fly on Tuesdays or Wednesdays — those mid-week flights are usually cheaper

Travel during January, February, or early March for off-season discounts

Avoid summer peak and winter holidays for the best fares

Even last-minute flights can be affordable if you stay flexible.

Budget Airlines That Fly to Portland

These airlines regularly offer cheap tickets to Portland:

Frontier Airlines – Watch for flash sales

Spirit Airlines – Rock-bottom base fares

Southwest Airlines – 2 free bags and no change fees

Alaska Airlines – Frequent deals, great service

Delta, American, United – Occasionally drop prices in competitive markets

You’ll often find surprise discounts when airlines compete for these routes.

Free & Low-Cost Things to Do in Portland

Once your cheap flight is booked, it’s time to plan your adventure. The good news? You don’t need to spend much to have a great time here.

Forest Park

One of the largest urban forests in the U.S., with over 80 miles of trails. Perfect for hikers and runners.

📖 Powell’s City of Books

The world’s biggest indie bookstore. Spend hours browsing for free.

Portland Saturday Market

Local art, handmade goods, and great food — all in one riverside spot.

International Rose Test Garden

More than 10,000 roses bloom here in summer. And it's totally free.

Portland Art Museum

Tickets are affordable, and it’s one of the oldest art museums on the West Coast.

Where to Eat Without Going Broke

Portland has legendary food — and it’s super affordable if you know where to look.

Food truck pods – Global eats at local prices

Voodoo Doughnut – Iconic and quirky sweets under $5

Lardo – Huge sandwiches with big flavors

Luc Lac Vietnamese Kitchen – Cheap pho and spring rolls

Pine State Biscuits – Comfort food heaven

You could eat your way across the city on $20 a day if you wanted to.

Travel Smart: Tips for Visiting Portland on a Budget

Take the MAX Light Rail from the airport to downtown — it’s clean and cheap

Stay in budget hotels or boutique hostels in walkable neighborhoods

Use public transit or rent a bike to get around

Check for city events or festivals — many are free

Sign up for fare alerts on CompareWings to catch surprise deals

Being smart with your travel plan helps your dollar go further — especially in Portland.

Other Keywords to Help You Search Deals

When looking for cheap fares, try using these additional keywords:

Budget flights to Portland

Portland Oregon flight deals

Last-minute flights to Portland

Cheap plane tickets to Portland

Low-cost flights to PDX

Affordable airfare to Portland

These search terms can help you unlock even more savings on CompareWings or Google Flights.

Frequently Asked Questions

✅ What is the cheapest time to fly to Portland?

January through early March offers the lowest airfare rates. Mid-week flights during this season are especially cheap.

✅ Which airport should I fly into?

All major flights go into Portland International Airport (PDX). It’s the best option for travelers and very close to the city.

✅ What’s the best airline for cheap flights to Portland?

Spirit, Frontier, and Southwest consistently offer the lowest fares. Alaska Airlines also runs competitive deals with better service.

✅ Can I get a direct flight to Portland?

Yes, many cities offer nonstop flights to Portland, especially from the West Coast and major hubs like Denver and Chicago.

✅ Are there hidden fees on cheap tickets?

Some budget airlines charge for extras like carry-ons, seat selection, and snacks. Always check the final price before booking.

Final Thoughts: Book Cheap Flights to Portland Now

From green parks and indie bookstores to craft breweries and mountain views, Portland is the perfect mix of adventure and chill. And when you can fly to Portland for as little as $49, there’s really no reason to wait.

Use CompareWings to find real-time deals, compare low-cost airlines, and book your perfect trip today. Because traveling smart starts with spending less on flights — and more on what really matters.

[ledenews]

Just in time for Mother’s Day, Handmade Holiday: Spring Market returns on Saturday, April 26, 2025, from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. at the Wheeling Artisan Center. This one-day event showcases a diverse lineup of more than forty local artisans and creative entrepreneurs, offering unique, handcrafted goods perfect for gift-giving. Building on the success of the annual Handmade Holiday market, this spring edition provides an additional opportunity for shoppers to connect with makers and support small businesses in Wheeling and the surrounding region. The event features an array of vendors specializing in fine art, jewelry, home decor, specialty foods, and more. 2025 Spring Market Vendors Include:Alan Fitzpatrick Fine Art and Jewelry, Apartment Two Art, Art by Janet Lynn, B. Woven, Bellaroses Inner Sanctuary, Bubbles, Bones & Biscuits, LLC, Card Art by Jes, Crowded Cat Studio, Deylight Photography, Er + Ryal, Fuzzy Whale Paper Co, Goat and Soy, Granny’s Girly Goodies LLC, House of Hume, Jericho Road Collective, Lady Orchid House, Lone Stone Designs, Mel’s Alternative Images, Mountain State Craftsman, Morning Light Studio, Nonni says SEW, Old Soul Candle Co, Papa Faith, Pete Chacalos Photography, Pamspots, Pressed Oil of Gladness, RF Sweet Shop, Savannah Schroll Guz Studios, Sea Salt and Cedar, Sips and Sweets, Stone Cottage Apothecary, SubZero Treats, Sugar and Spice Cookie Co LLC, Tacet Coffee Cart, The Cookie Culprit, The Local Beadery, LLC, The Moors Collective, The Queen of Arts~Curiosities by Adrienne, The Weeping Willow Farm, To Crafting And Beyond, Weathered Wren, Yardscape LLC, and 16th Street Clay Co. “I’m really excited to see our community come out and support these talented local artisans. Handmade Holiday: Spring Market is not just about shopping—it's about connecting with the creative spirit that makes Wheeling so special. It’s a wonderful opportunity to celebrate the talent and passion of our makers while fostering a sense of community that continues to grow and thrive here in Wheeling. And who knows—you’ll never know what you might find!” shares Riley Carpenter, director of programming at Wheeling Heritage. “Participating in Handmade Holiday over the last two years has been a great opportunity to connect with our community, artists, and makers throughout the area,” said Laura Oswalt of Tacet Coffee Cart. “We love providing excellent service and craft coffee drinks while you shop and explore a wide variety of curated gifts. There is always something for everyone. I can’t help but leave each time with a little something—usually pottery or prints! Can’t wait to see you this spring.” Follow Wheeling Heritage on Facebook and Instagram for a behind-the-scenes glimpse of the artisans and their works. For more information on Handmade Holiday: Spring Market, visit https://wheelingheritage.org/handmade-holiday-spring-market/. Read the full article

[idealabx]

Vancouver Amazing

Salt Spring Island - Salt Spring Saturday Market

April 5th - October 25th every Saturday

Bustling, popular market operating since the 70s, since then it has grown considerably and attracts visitors from all around the world and acts as a key economic driver and crucial pillar of island life for the community on Salt Spring Island.

The Saturday Market operates as a local producer based market.

“Make it, Bake it, Grow it” & “Vendor Produced and Sold”

https://www.saltspringmarket.com/

https://www.instagram.com/saltspringmarket/

[pineboxing]

Saturday Market on Salt Spring Island

at play all day

in my body

dressed too shoddy

for a visit

from the explicit

vibe of a tribe

from another land

grand or small

striding tall

they all

congregate

in a spate

of oohs and ahhs

and pockets full of paws

with cash

they flash

grasped with a gasp

of glee from an artist now free

to meet and eat

meat

at least once a week

[travelloverr]

Naka Weekend Market: A Night Market Adventure in Phuket

The Naka Weekend Market in Phuket, a popular market in Thailand, will be the topic of our discussion today. On Saturday and Sunday, which are the weekly closing days, this market is open late. The greatest street food, handcrafted goods, souvenirs, streetwear and fashion, used goods, and cute pets to bring home can all be found here. Continue reading Itinerary Plans to learn more.

History of Phuket Weekend Night Market

Phuket's vibrant night market scene has been captivating visitors for years. Among the most popular is the Naka Weekend Market, a bustling bazaar that comes alive every Friday and Saturday night. While the exact origins of this market are somewhat hazy, it's believed to have started as a small gathering of local vendors, gradually evolving into the bustling market it is today.

What to do at Phuket Weekend Night Market

The Naka Weekend Market offers a sensory overload of sights, sounds, and smells. Here's a glimpse of what you can expect:

Food Paradise:

Indulge in a culinary journey through Thailand and beyond.

Sample a variety of street food delights, from spicy noodles to sweet desserts.

Don't miss the seafood stalls offering fresh grilled squid, shrimp, and fish.

Shopping Extravaganza:

Explore the market's labyrinthine alleys filled with stalls selling everything from clothing and accessories to souvenirs and handicrafts.

Bargain with vendors to get the best deals on unique items.

Pick up authentic Thai silk, handcrafted jewelry, and traditional Thai clothing.

Cultural Experience:

Immerse yourself in Thai culture by watching live performances of traditional music and dance.

Purchase handmade crafts and souvenirs to bring home as mementos of your trip.

Interact with friendly locals and experience the warm hospitality of Thai people.

Best Time to Visit Phuket Weekend Night Market

The ideal time to visit the Naka Weekend Market is during the peak hours, which typically fall between 7 PM and 11 PM. This is when the market is at its busiest, with a lively atmosphere and a wide variety of vendors. However, if you prefer a less crowded experience, consider visiting earlier in the evening or later at night.

Related Article

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Nearby Attractions and Places to Visit

Phuket Old Town: Explore the charming streets of Phuket Old Town, with its Sino-Portuguese architecture, colorful shophouses, and art galleries.

Wat Chalong Temple: Visit this beautiful temple complex, one of the most important Buddhist temples in Phuket.

Phuket Big Buddha: Marvel at the majestic white marble Buddha statue perched atop Nakkerd Hill.

Patong Beach: Relax on the stunning white sands of Patong Beach, Phuket's most popular beach.

Reaching Naka Weekend Market

The Naka Weekend Market is conveniently located in the heart of Phuket Town. Here are some ways to get there:

Tuk-tuk: A fun and iconic way to travel around Phuket.

Motorcycle Rental: Rent a motorcycle for a more adventurous experience.

Taxi: A comfortable and convenient option.

Bus: Public buses can take you to Phuket Town, from where you can easily walk to the market.

Naka Weekend Market Tips for Visitors:

Wear Comfortable Clothing: Opt for light, breathable clothing, especially during the hot and humid evenings.

Bring Cash: Many vendors may not accept credit cards, so it's best to carry cash.

Bargain Wisely: Don't be afraid to haggle with vendors to get the best prices.

Stay Hydrated: Drink plenty of water to stay hydrated, especially during the hot weather.

Respect Local Customs: Dress modestly and avoid offensive behavior.

Enjoy the Experience: Immerse yourself in the vibrant atmosphere and savor the unique experience of the Naka Weekend Market.

By following these tips, you can make the most of your visit to the Naka Weekend Market and create lasting memories of your trip to Phuket. Click here

FAQs about Naka Weekend Market

How much does it cost to enter?

-Entry is free!

Where is it located?

-Located in the southern suburb of Phuket Town, on Thalang Rd, near Central Shopping Mall.

How do I get there?

-Take a bus from Phuket Bus Terminal 2 (Ranong Road) for 30-40 THB. Taxis, tuk-tuks, motorbikes, and private transfers are also available.

What can I expect to find?

-A wide variety of food stalls, clothing and accessory vendors, handcrafted souvenirs, home decor, live music, and a vibrant atmosphere.

Are prices negotiable?

-Yes, especially for clothing and souvenirs. Bargaining is expected and part of the experience!

[aestheticvoyage2024]

Day 209b: Saturday July 27, 2024 - "The Backroads of Oklahoma"

Crossed the Red River by morning, and into Oklahoma, following the map to a red dirt road where I refreshed and reset for a good day of travel east and north across new track in Oklahoma - the crossroads of America - the gate between East and West and North and South. Left a trail through towns like Eldorado, Lawton, and Chickasha before stopping off in Oklahoma City. While walking the grounds of the memorial, I searched for the best BBQ in Oklahoma (accidentally, leaving off the City) and the search led me east to Wellston for some burnt ends from the Butcher's and collected up some apple bie baked beans for my mom's souvenir for Oklahoma. The road certainly provided today. By far the best part of my day and the best meal I'd have on the road home.

The roads home today started to show signs of life - trees, cornfields, barns and puffy clouds. Lots of little towns and places I had already plucked on the map.

I continued -North to Stillwater, and east towards Tulsa, where I filled my gas tank at the Costco there, and imagined my grandparents, on their way to Arizona, or maybe on their way back home to Gratiot County stopping near here and doing the same. Roadtrippers in my DNA - an itinerant spirit; I reflected on that, as I listened to the new Zach Bryan album for the 8th time, driving through his home hometown, Oologah.

Continued through Nowata, and Vinitia on Route 66 on into the great state of Misery (I mean Missouri). Highway 60 led east into Springfield where I ran for Mayor in Marty's, delivering some ace level karaoke with my childhood penpal, Jess, in the crowd - a fun night in the great American Bar Scene, with nothing but a few O'Douls; I was really excited for myself that I could do that - 209 days sober. It was a good break before the night drive - putting in that work to be setup for tomorrow. Finished the long day of driving by taking new track east to Cabool where I turned north to Rolla, and then to a parking spot in Jefferson City. Two lane roads the whole way.

Song: Zach Bryan - Oklahoma Smokeshow

If I'm lucky enough I'll see fogs lift with suns as we roll to play a show In Carolina, Oklahoma, or Chicago I'll grow to know the road to home in places far away Wrinkled, bald, and beat to shit, to never waste a day Enough people will hate me that I know I did it right But to never meet a human being that I say that I don't like Let me learn the hard way and cut it close sometimes That youths the attic chest where every lesson lies I'll have some kids and teach them that we are all the same Sufferin', smilin', silhouettes of every passin' day The love I have will always be something my friends yearn My memories were never cheap and never easy earned I hope to choke on jack and coke in a bar during a northern winter On a night the band was tight and right as rooftop lights flicker If I'm lucky enough, I'll understand losing someone close I'll clench my teeth on New Year's Eve and try to talk to ghosts I'll stumble through a market on a Sunday day in June Smell the salt and asphalt on a Sunday afternoon I reckon I'd be lucky if I made it half as far To only die on hills that are closest to my heart If I'm lucky enough, notebooks will be strewn across my room Or play catch on green grass with spring time flower bloom If I'm lucky enough, I'll tell the truth every chance I get 'Cause smiles faked to appease another is worth ten regrets If I'm lucky enough, I will get through hard things And they will make me gentle to the ways of the world If I'm lucky enough, I'll have the courage to leave and go Wherever my beatin' heart tells me to go If I'm lucky enough, I'll get high and invite a guitarist over And he'll play sweet notes until a New York City's rooftop sunrises I'll meet some kids in school that still know how to play instruments If I'm lucky enough, I'll make it exactly to where I'm taking this breath now Lay my head upon the Earth and laugh at passing clouds

~Zach Bryan

[journeysofpatrickandarchana]

Dominica

Blog posted originally on 3rd April 2013

Arriving in Dominica on a late Saturday afternoon, we were pleasantly surprised by a simple village and a calm anchorage. The boat boys welcomed us offering tours and other services. After a late lunch at 4pm on the boat we decided to stay here until Tuesday morning to explore the local sulphur springs, hikes in the rainforest, Indian River etc....

We also needed to refill one of our gas bottles. The boat came with two tiny 4.5 kg gas bottles each. With cooking for 7 people even with just one hot meal per day, we consumed these quickly. Patrick wanted to buy 2 x 20 pound fibreglass gas bottles (9 kilos each) for our big crossings but the supplier seemed to be having problems and these had vanished from all of the Caribbean.

It rained on Saturday night and washed the salt of the boat, cooled the atmosphere and brought about a change of mood for all. Dominica was a refreshing change after St Kitts. We started our tour on Sunday morning with a couple hours paddle in the Indian River, parts of it reminded me of the backwaters of Kerala and the other parts reminded me of the Pirates of the Caribbean....well, they did shoot some parts of the movie Pirates of the Caribbean - Calypso in this region and our guide was more than proud to highlight these areas.

Later in the afternoon we went for a small hike accompanied by our guide Winston. He informed us of the flora and fauna of the region......surprisingly most of the flora was again common to my native land of Malvan in India. Tamarind, chickoos (sapodillas), breadfruit, mangoes, papayas, Jamaican Apples (Jaam), coconuts etc...but there were also, avocados, coffee trees, cocoa and nutmeg trees that I had never seen before. The hike took us through a rainforest and we heard the song (call) of the local parrots that are a national symbol of the country. The Jaca and Sisserou, could be heard but not seen. The Syndicate waterfalls, the highlight of the hike were impressive but the heavy rains killed any opportunity of good photos.

Monday was full of daily chores, hand washing laundry, preparing dinners in advance for the trip and completing the formalities as the office had been closed since we arrived on a Saturday afternoon or so we thought. To our surprise the officer was not impressed that we had not officially registered on Sunday. We informed him that we had been mislead by our guide book and he accepted it. As the conversation lead to cricket, Shane Shillingford and the recent test match between Zimbawe and West Indies where the Windies had walloped the Africans, the mood relaxed and all our documents were cleared with a smile. Here in the West Indies being an Indian from the land of Sachin Tendulkar had an advantage!

This day also included a quick visit o the markets to buy some local fruit and vegetable including a hand of bananas that would ripe gradually over the next few days ensuring some sort of fresh fruit supply while underway.

Once again after an early dinner we set asail for our next destination Tobago Cays. An opportunity to swim with the turtles was promised by Nick the English man who had visited the region earlier.

[reysim]

Saturday Match 23 / 2024

We visited a large market that was supposed to be a flea market. It was anything but! There were plenty of secondhand items for sale, however, other vendors had taken advantage of the opportunity to sell their goods, and so it looked like any other market in town.

Then we walked through the medicinal herb district with many herb shops and a museum. The museum was small and very basic, but educational for the many kids around.

We took advantage of a two for one foot bath, massage, and tea. Who would say no to that! The museum offered a 20 minute foot bath in hot salted water, followed by a 30 minute automated massage sequence. I enjoyed the massage the most. They used automated massage beds that the would follow a certain rhythm by tapping the back of your body. It was an awakening method which I liked. It was followed by hand and foot massages done by machines and not a person. After, we went for a special herbal tea with rice and sesame cakes at a nearby cafe.

Then, we took a subway to Seonleong / Seolleong, where visited 3 royal tombs, while locals used the surrounding greenery as a park and enjoyed spending time in nature specially on a nice warm spring day like this afternoon.

Then we took another subway to Lotte Tower, had a meal, and took a subway back to our hotel.

[downtoearthmarkets]

Spring has finally sprung in these parts with the vernal equinox transpiring at 11:06pm on Tuesday, as the Earth’s upright tilt bequeathed us with a virtually identical length of day and night. From this point on, we can expect to bask in an extra three minutes of glorious sunlight per day here in the northern hemisphere. As we burst forth from our metaphorical hibernation into the warmth of the accelerating sunshine, the spring season is welcomed as a time of renewal, rebirth and fresh beginnings. Thanks to this year’s mild winter, a springtime rejuvenation is already underway at our bustling farmstalls with several early arrivals like tender pea shoots, frilly lettuce and leafy bok choy trickling onto the scene. Coinciding with the advent of spring is a confluence of significant cultural and religious holidays that are each associated with traditional meals, reflecting their distinct geographic affiliations and historical foodways. Fortunately, your local Down to Earth farmers market remains well-stocked with plenty of trusty winter stalwarts, as well as some early season newcomers, for you to incorporate in your springtime feasts and celebratory dishes both this weekend and next. Purim Seudah The festival of Purim will take place from sundown this Saturday through sundown on Sunday. Purim is a joyous, fun and lively holiday commemorating Queen Esther’s saving of the Jewish people of ancient Persia by preventing their annihilation at the hands of Haman, King Ahasuerus’ wicked prime minister. Purim is typically observed by readings of the biblical book of Esther (Megillah), making charitable donations, sharing gifts of food with friends, and partaking in a special festive seudah banquet with loved ones. It’s customary to serve foods at the Purim seudah that are inspired by symbolic links to the Megillah. Queen Esther is said to have eaten a vegetarian diet in order to keep kosher while living in her husband King Ahasuerus’s palace. Thus, Purim menus worldwide typically feature an array of beans, seeds, legumes, nuts and dried fruits. Feed directly into this ancient tradition with a generous platter of crudité featuring ready-cut celery, carrots, radishes and other crunchy veggies from 4E Green Farm to dip in a tub of Taiim Shack Mobile’s seasonally flavored, creatively crafted hummus. Like Queen Esther, hummus hails from the Middle East where it’s traditionally made by blending chickpeas with tahini, lemon juice and garlic. Or how about a dish of pre-seasoned, ready-to-cook lentils from The Lentil Co. who've taken the work out of preparing lentils so you can enjoy a relaxed and delicious seudah with your family.  Iftar Ideas Ramadan occurs during the ninth month of the Islamic calendar when it’s believed the first verses of the Holy Book of Quran were sent down from heaven and revealed to the Prophet Muhammad. This holiest of month for Muslims began on March 12th this year and is a time for fasting, introspection, prayer, and performing acts of charity and kindness.   Ramadan fasting is one of the five pillars of Islam and requires abstaining from food and drink from sunrise to sunset. Iftar is the fast-breaking evening meal that customarily commences with a bite of a fresh or dry date then moves onto a feast of traditional foods. This simple and tasty Chicken Shawarma recipe makes a fortifying iftar given its combination of nutritious and satiating ingredients that are easily sourced from the farmers market during the seasonal transition. Ingredients

2 tablespoons garlic paste (Great Joy Family Farm garlic blended in a food processor with olive oil or water) 

¾ cup extra virgin olive oil, divided 

2 teaspoons kosher salt

Spices (1 tablespoon each of turmeric, cinnamon, freshly ground black pepper, cumin, smoked spicy paprika)

1½ tablespoons lemon juice 

2½ pounds Roaming Acres or Yellow Bell Farm boneless chicken thighs or breasts, cut into 1-inch strips

1 large Jersey Farm Produce white onion, thinly sliced 

Pita bread from Taiim Shack Mobile and/or 4E Green Farm bibb lettuce

4E Green Farm red cabbage, sliced

Torn cilantro, parsley and mint from Jersey Farm Produce

Harissa sauce

Easter Feasts Easter, also called Pascha or Resurrection Sunday, is a Christian festival and cultural holiday commemorating the resurrection of Jesus on the third day after his Crucifixion. After attending a church service, Easter Sunday is traditionally celebrated over a large meal featuring meat, potatoes, vegetable side dishes and dinner rolls.   In preparation for next week’s Easter extravaganza, Down to Earth meat vendors will bring holiday ham, pastured chicken and spring lamb; the farmstalls will have plenty of root veggies and fresh greens; and our chocolate and baked goods vendors will make specialty items such as decorated holiday-themed cookies. To wrap things up as we warmly embrace the outset of spring, there’s no shortage of occasions and reasons to head to your farmers market this weekend. We’ll have a diverse abundance of seasonally appropriate items for you to bring to the table at whatever event or holiday it is that you may be celebrating. We look forward to seeing you at the market!

[michael-h-richardson]

JOHN KRIMSKY JR. RECEIVES PRESTIGIOUS IOC CENTENNIAL OLYMPIC AWARD

With Paris as the next Summer Olympic Games, we look forward to the Games returning to the United States in 2028 at Los Angeles. It reminds us of how important the partnership between the National Olympic Committee and the International Olympic Committee is in the conduct of the Games. The IOC made its award to a USOC staffer who accomplished the most for the Olympic Movement in its Centennial year of 1996.

JOHN KRIMSKY RECEIVES IOC CENTENNIAL AWARD USOC - United States Olympic Committee October 30, 1996 - John Krimsky Jr.

U.S. Olympic Committee Deputy Secretary General John Krimsky Jr. was given the International Olympic Committee's Centennial Award in recognition of the fundraising, negotiations and other outstanding work he completed on behalf of the USOC and its athletes to raise more than one billion dollars for the U.S. Olympic Movement in the past quadrennium. The award is presented to the American who accomplished the most for the Olympic Movement in 1996.

JOHN KRIMSKY JR. HONORED WITH IOC CENTENNIAL OLYMPIC AWARD Colorado Springs Gazette Telegraph October 30, 1996 - john Krimsky Jr.

KRIMSKY HONORED: USOC deputy executive director John Krimsky Jr., of Colorado Springs, was given the International Olympic Committee's Centennial Olympic Award during Saturday's board meeting.

The award was given to the person who did the most outstanding work in the Olympic movement during 1996.

Krimsky, who in his role as the USOC's chief fund-raiser, has brought in more than $1 billion, was instrumental in the USOC's joint-marketing agreement with organizers of the Atlanta Olympics.

He also will serve as president of the USOC's joint marketing venture with organizers of the 2002 Olympic Winter Games in Salt Lake City.

[eopederson2]

Autumn Bounty, radishes, Ganges Saturday Market, Salt Spring Island, BC, 2019.

[tippedbykreider]

it’s all coming back to me | c. kreider (i)

Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: Slow burn, exes to friends to lovers, relationship breakdown, swearing, alcohol mention. Author’s Note: So many of you have been requesting for this to be brought back! The consensus was that you’d rather have it in smaller chunks so I’ll be posting each new part weekly and they’ll come in between 6 & 9k per chapter. Not only is it more manageable for you guys but it also gives me chance to keep writing new content for it 💖 There is a playlist for this fic which I posted separately, it gives a chronological feel for their relationship and their story. This has been a tonne of fun to write so far and I can’t wait to tell the rest of their story. Summary: Chris Kreider x Reader Insert. They say that all good things come to an end, that you can never have too much of a good thing, but when Chris decided to end your relationship you wondered how anything could ever be good again. A chance meeting 9 years later drags up all those feelings you both thought you were done with. Can you work through your hurt and pain to see what it is that Chris is trying to show you? Or are some things better left forgotten? Tagging: @danglesnipecelly - this girl deserves a writing credit on this thing because she’s pushed me to keep going with this and her input and advice has been invaluable. Thank you for all the support on this one, K 💖

*Italics indicates a flashback*

The notion of fresh starts is often something that is associated with the arrival of the New Year. People use the turning of the calendar to turn over a new leaf, to learn a new skill, to challenge themselves to be better than the year before and to let go of all that was and focus on all that will be. There’s something inherently magical about a new beginning, a fresh start; sometimes it’s the excitement of what might lie ahead and other times it’s the comfort in knowing that you can seize the opportunity be whoever you want to be and to reinvent yourself. It’s the line in the sand and the final full stop at the end of the chapter and it’s the anticipation of picking up the pen and writing those first few words on the new page.

For Chris Kreider this feeling wasn’t one that was brought about by the strike of the clock at midnight on New Year’s Eve because while the date on the calendar changed and while he still spent the next couple of weeks dating things with the wrong year just like everybody else, it still often felt like nothing really changed for him. Chris could only feel like the year was truly coming to an end when the first petals of spring exploded like fireworks in a symphony of technicolour blooms and he found himself giving the locker-room clearout interview. That was the end of the year, the full stop, the line and the warmer days and the balmy nights would give him the opportunity to decompress ready for the turning of the page come September when his focus would once again turn back to hockey.

Chris loved New York; that much was undeniably true. He loved the vibrancy of the city but he also loved the way that he could melt into the background or enjoy the feeling of quiet solace his apartment gave him. It was oftentimes a bolthole, an oasis of peace during an otherwise hectic few months between September and May but the end of the hockey season and the arrival of summer had him seeking the cry of gulls on the breath of a gentle breeze and that crisp, purifying sea air that always managed to fill his lungs differently. Rowayton wasn’t far, a little over an hour on a good day but with its coastal Connecticut charm, slower pace and pretty houses, especially the ones that overlooked the water, it was a world away from NYC and exactly what Chris needed to reset and recharge.

It was a Saturday morning in mid-July and for the first time in a long time, longer than Chris could recall, he allowed himself to sleep in. His bedroom window had been open all night and the welcome breeze snaked through the slats in the blinds and carried on it the faintest smell of salt and sunshine. Chris stretched his muscles in big pulls around the bed before he settled on his back and inhaled deeply, the fresh air clearing his mind and filling his body as the last remnants of sleep slipped away on the exhale of breath. Imbued with energy, he climbed out of bed and pulled the blinds all the way up, flooding the bedroom with beautiful incandescence born out of a cloudless sky. He didn’t make his bed though, not yet, because while he had left his room and was padding down the stairs, he had every intention of returning to the still warm sheets to read a chapter or two of the book on his nightstand with a fresh cup of coffee, a cinnamon and raisin bagel, that invigorating coastal air and the oceanscape outside as the soundtrack.

One chapter turned into two and two became three and before Chris knew it, the sun was high in the sky and lunchtime beckoned. It was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day in Rowayton and Chris thought it would be a crying shame to spend his time at home, even if the page-turner he’d held in his hands moments ago seemed incredibly appealing out on the back deck overlooking the water. It was then he decided to take advantage of that gorgeous sunshine, take in the scenery and stretch his legs by going for a walk into town to pick up a few essentials at Rowayton Market. For all it was a small, it contained everything he would need to keep him going for a few more days until he’d finally need to drive into Norwalk to do a more substantial grocery shop, something that he’d admittedly been putting off. The Market also had some of the best baked goods and fresh coffee in the village and if you asked Chris it would be pretty rude to not take advantage – it was right there, after all, and Chris never could say no to a still-warm Danish and Americano.

He walked slower than he usually would, a conscious effort on his part due to the fact that his legs seemed to want to go into an auto-pilot primed for life in New York City. He was in no rush though, he never was whenever he came here and even though it was a route he’d walked hundreds of times before, and one he would walk hundreds more, Chris still wanted to soak in all the pretty trees and shrubs that were nestled in amongst those classical New England style homes, all shingled exteriors and white, gridded windows in soft muted colours that mirrored the coastal landscape of the village. It was a world away from the brick and the concrete and the bright lights of the city and while Chris loved all of those things about New York and loved wandering through the streets of Tribeca and Soho, getting lost in bookstores and hole-in-the-wall cafes, he also loved the sand, shale and stars and those were things that he just couldn’t find in the city that never slept.

There were quite a few people out and about, Chris noted, most of them he recognised as being residents with their friendly smiles and waved greetings, but there were a handful of tourists too; there always was on weekends during the summer. Not that Chris minded, of course, because for all the village was a popular escape for those seeking a break from the metropolitan life of the nearby hub of cities, it never succumbed to the all-too-often inevitability of commercialisation and still managed to hold on to its peaceful charm, despite it not quite being the quaint fishing village it once was back in the days before the Civil War.

It was one of the reasons why Chris found himself retreating here in the summer and not making the trip back home to spend the off-season in Massachusetts. He would go back to Boxford for a couple of weeks, naturally, because family was something that had always been important to Chris and he would never miss an opportunity to spend time with his parents and sister, but if he had the choice between spending his entire summer being bitten to death by mosquitoes back home (his father always did say that they were the town bird, after all) or feeling the gentle kiss of the ocean breeze against his skin, there was no real contest. Rowayton would always win.

The main street through town was busier, which wasn’t exactly unexpected and if anything it only seemed to add to the charm of the village. Chris decided to head straight to the market to pick up his groceries, if only to facilitate the Danish eating in a more timely-fashion. He picked up a basket as he entered and proceeded to add only the essentials he’d need to get him through the next couple of days. He’d pay for his shopping before going to the coffee bar, because trying to pack his reusable grocery bag with a full takeout cup was a mistake he’d made once before and was sure to never repeat again.

With his groceries purchased and bags packed in such a way that the couple of bottles of wine he’d picked up wouldn’t clink together when he walked (it was three to be exact but after seeing the selection of cured meats, cheeses and olives available he thought it’d be a crime if they didn’t find their way into his basket to come home with him, and if there was cheese there had to be wine), Chris made his way to the coffee counter situated near the Market entrance.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken a trip away without the company of anyone else but the last couple of months at work had been incredibly stressful, with projects seemingly coming out of your ears and while you knew your mother had been worried by your suggestion of taking off somewhere alone for the weekend, she also knew better than to fight you on something you’d quite clearly already set your mind to. If you were being completely honest, your plans for the first full weekend you’d had off in months would have consisted of not setting foot outside of your apartment or engaging in any kind of unnecessary conversation had you decided to stay home in Hartford, at least this way you’d be getting some fresh air and the sun on your face.

It was just shy of a two hour drive down to Rowayton, which had the dual benefit of being close enough to home that it didn’t feel like a huge trek just to get there, but also being far enough away that you would be a complete stranger in this town and could take the time to decompress and recharge while blending into the background, and the place was pretty to boot. You’d found a little studio Airbnb not too far away in South Norwalk, figuring that you’d only be using it as somewhere to sleep as you’d planned on spending as much of your time as possible being right by that ocean with the wind in your hair and the warm sun on your skin.

That’s how you’d planned on spending your Saturday afternoon, sat on the sand of Bayley Beach with a good book and a cup of coffee. It was set to be a balmy day, with temperatures sitting in the mid-eighties and the last thing you wanted to be doing in the heat was any amount of excessive walking. So with that in mind, you’d spent your morning exploring the village and taking in the sights and sounds. The gentle protest of your stomach told you it was lunchtime before you’d even taken the opportunity to glance down at your watch and a quick Google search pointed you in the direction of somewhere to get that all important cup of coffee and a small bite to eat.

Rowayton Market didn’t look like much from the outside in the sense that it was a little on the petite side, but the reviews were great and the coffee was allegedly some of the best in the village and that was good enough for you. You were greeted with the smell of freshly baked goods and ground coffee, which was welcoming enough before you even saw the bright smile of the girl behind the counter. Your eyes drifted over the selection of pastries, each one more delicious looking than the last and you knew that you were going to have a hard time choosing just one. You knew you’d have to make a decision, though, suddenly aware of the small line that had seemingly materialised right out of thin air behind you and while you were sure that these people were more accustomed to a slower pace of life, the city girl in you, who was so used to living life in the fast lane, didn’t want to keep these good people waiting while you deliberated. You’d go with your usual and that would be that.

Chris’s attention was fixed out of the large glass windows at the front of the shop, watching as people milled in the street and went about their daily business. It was something he quite often did, whether he was here or back home in New York. There was something oddly soothing about watching the world go by, he thought, and occasionally he’d catch something that would quirk his lips up into a smile, like the sight before him now of a rather large gull in the process of committing larceny against what he could only assume was an unsuspecting tourist. Their sandwich was held high above their head while their free hand attempted to shoo the bird away with little success. He chuckled quietly to himself then, not least because the gulls seemed to get more brazen with each year that passed and he was sure that one of these days he’d see someone’s lunch get snatched right out of their hand by the feathered menaces.

Chris had no reason at all to believe as he stood in that line that everything was about to change. Why would he? The day had started like any other. He’d picked up his groceries in this store more times than he could count, he’d waited in a line just like this one for his coffee and Danish and yet, in that moment, something as innocuous as a woman’s voice would bring feelings that he thought he was done with, and memories he thought had strayed out of his mind for good, flooding back to the surface. But it wasn’t just any woman’s voice, no, it wasn’t as detached and neutral as that. It was your voice; a voice he hadn’t heard in nine years and it was something as simple as a coffee order, an order that he now knew to have remained the same since the day you’d first met at Boston College all those years ago, that blew the dam wide open and every word the two of you had ever spoken, from day one to the last thing you ever said to him, came rushing back.

The sound of Chris’s voice calling your name was something you never thought you’d hear out loud again. It was a voice you’d only heard in your dreams for many years after he walked out of your life, but even that had faded beyond memory to where you weren’t a hundred percent certain that you’d be able to remember what it sounded like anymore. And yet, in the middle of a tiny supermarket in Rowayton, you heard him clear as day with his tongue rolling around the syllables of your name with the same fondness, even after all this time and it was like you’d never forgotten the sound at all.

*

Autumn was beginning to make her presence felt in Boston. The palette on campus had shifted from a spectrum of vivid greens to shades of deep russet, amber, ochre and vermillion; but even above the changing leaves, the turning of the calendar brought a slight chill to the air that had you reaching for your jacket on a morning as you left your dorm.

Today was no different. The temperature had dropped again overnight as November creeped ever closer and it was chilly enough that you had to draw your coat tighter around you as you walked across campus towards class. Your brisk pace had bought you enough time to make a stop at the coffee stand just outside of Campion where your first class of the day was being held. There was a decent selection on offer, but it wasn’t enough to sway you from ordering your usual.

You rooted around your backpack for your wallet while the barista prepared your coffee and grabbed you your cinnamon roll, unaware of the new presence to your right, before handing over the money and taking the coffee and pastry bag from the young man’s hands.

“Coffee and cinnamon roll, eh? Now that’s the breakfast of champions.”

You turned your head towards the source of the voice, lips quirking into a small smile at the sight of the stranger beside you who looked to be not much older than you were, incredibly tall and broad for his apparent age but not for his height. He was grinning at you with a fullness that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and gave him a unique kind of softness.

“My mom would disagree,” you replied with a smirk. “If she found out I was having this for breakfast she’d be in her car so fast and dragging my ass back to Hartford.”

He laughed at that, loud and bright with his head tipped back slightly before running a hand through his dark brown hair that was shorter on the sides but had the faintest hint of a curl at the longer strands on top.

“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not telling her,” you grinned as you swung your backpack over one shoulder. “So looks like you’re sworn to secrecy.”

You studied him for a brief moment, with the way he was still grinning at you and his eyes that seemed to sparkle behind his dark lashes before your brain gently reminded you that you, in fact, had somewhere you needed to be. “Well, I hate to impose a vow of silence on you like some sort of mafia boss and then immediately split but I uh I gotta head to class.”

“No problem at all and hey, your secret is safe with me. In fact, I’ve forgotten already. What were we talking about?”

There it was again, that smile of his that made you want to stay rooted right where you were standing and look at it all day, but class beckoned and so you gave an awkward wave of your hand and a soft laugh before you turned and headed into the building behind you without another glance back. If you had you’d have seen the stranger from the coffee stand watch until you’d disappeared from view, with that smile still on his face.

This little routine of yours would continue over the course of the next few weeks. Every Tuesday morning, at around 8:45am, you’d find yourself stood at that coffee stand outside of Campion to get your coffee and cinnamon roll, and every Tuesday morning, at around 8:46am, the tall stranger would appear beside you with his kind eyes and his bright smile. You’d exchange a ‘hello’ and a friendly grin and you’d laugh more often than not too while you made pleasant small talk before you both said your goodbyes and went to your respective classes, though you would always leave first and he would watch you go until you’d disappeared into the building.

It was mid-November, now, and the campus of Boston College was firmly in autumn’s frigid grasp. The temperatures continued to drop, seemingly overnight, which had you bundled up in your hat and scarf and the trees had shed their branches of leaves, crunching underfoot with the slight frost as you made your way towards Campion. Your hands were shoved deep into your coat pockets to ward off the gnawing chill and you were looking forward to being able to warm them around your coffee cup.

You approached the stand as normal, rooting through your backpack for your wallet ready to order.

“Hey!”

You looked up, your features fixed in a state of mild confusion while you looked for the source of the voice you recognised but couldn’t quite place. It was then you saw him though, all bright eyed and bushy tailed with a medium coffee and pastry bag held up in one of his large hands as if on display. He was grinning at you and cocked his head, beckoning you over with the wordless gesture.

“Hey, yourself,” you smiled as you approached. “What’s this then?” You tilted your head slightly at the items in his hand as he offered them to you.

“Breakfast of champions.”

Your eyebrow quirked as you took the coffee from him before taking a tentative sip, smiling while the warm liquid slid down your throat.

“You got my coffee order right.”

“It wasn’t hard,” he smirked. “You order the same thing every week and if you open that little paper bag I think you’ll find a cinnamon roll in there.”

Sure enough, as you opened the bag you were greeted with the sight of a perfectly formed cinnamon roll and you couldn’t help the grin that sparked at your lips and spread the full width of your face.

“I don’t order the same thing every week.”

“You do,” he replied with a laugh. “Every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks you’ve come to this coffee stand and ordered a medium Americano with half and half and a cinnamon roll and every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks I’ve been meaning to ask you your name.”

Your face flushed warm at that, not only at his words but at the sure little smile he was giving you and the way his eyes were sparkling. In fact, now that you were really looking at him properly, you were knocked back a bit by the perpetual kindness that seemed to rest in them and you couldn’t help but notice how they really were the perfect shade of hazel, like a forest with a deep bark heart surrounded by leaves that were every shade of green. You’d been quiet a little too long though and so you took a settling sip of coffee to give you enough time to find your voice again and tell him your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled as he offered you his hand, which was large and warm as you shook it.

“And who should I thank for the coffee?” you asked.

His smile grew into a grin then, the kind that you’d noticed over the course of the last few weeks that made his eyes crinkle and happiness radiate from him, before simply replying:

“Chris.”

*

“Chris?”

It was as if time had stood still in that little Market in Rowayton, where your surroundings become a still-frame and there’s nothing but static in your ears. You’d often thought about what it would have been like to see him again. Those first couple of years after he’d left Boston College had you imagining all kinds of scenarios, much like the one you were in right now where you’d bump into each other in a supermarket or a pharmacy, anywhere really, but now that you were living it, seeing it, breathing it, there was nothing you could have conjured up in your imagination that would have prepared you for what it would really feel like to see him again. If you were to be completely honest, you were glad that your coffee and cinnamon roll were still on the top of the counter because you were certain that they would have fallen right out of your hands and onto the Market floor.

He abandoned his position in the line then, as if you speaking his name was a call to him, and maybe it was, on some level, but the truth and simplicity of it was that you were suspended in a state of pure disbelief and even in the short time it took for him to close the distance between you both, you were still yet to move and fix your features to something more neutral.

“Hey.”

It was a simple greeting that he gave you and logically you knew that there wasn’t really any tangible meaning behind that single word he spoke and yet there was something about the look in his eyes and the warmth in the smile he gave you.

“It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you replied, finally finding your voice. “You look, you look good.”

It wasn’t a lie either, he did look good. The tall college boy you remembered, who was just a little too slight for his height, had filled out; you could tell that just from the way the fabric of his t-shirt stretched across the broad plains of his chest and strained around his biceps, and he was no longer clean shaven, which was something that had always made him look quite baby-faced. Instead he was sporting a neatly trimmed goatee and while he had kept his hair short on the sides, just like you’d remembered it, it was longer on the top than it had been in college and the curls were sweeping in a way that reminded you of the waves just beyond the Market door. He looked older, yes, which is exactly what you would have expected in the nine years since you’d last seen him but his eyes were still exactly the same, sparkling and full of mischief , yet still soft, perhaps even softer than before on account of the faint lines around them drawn by time’s fair hand.

“So do you,” he grinned. “You cut your hair.”

“I did,” you looked down as your face flushed with warmth, unsure exactly what you were supposed to say to him.

It was something you’d thought about during those imagined scenarios where you’d magically bump into each other again and you’d thought about all of the things that you would say to him. You would tell him about how much you’d cried when he left you behind to live out his boyhood dream and how angry you were that he didn’t want you to be a part of that, how it felt like all the plans you’d ever talked about were nothing more than empty words and how hurt that had made you feel. You felt like you at least deserved that, especially given that it was never just a casual fling between you both. After all, you’d been practically inseparable for two years. You’d been inseparable ever since he’d said those three words that mean so much. But now that he was here in front of you, all those words that had swirled around in your head and in your chest like a hurricane for so long, dissipated into nothing and you found yourself clutching at straws to find something, anything, to say.

Chris could sense this though. Of course he could because he was Chris and he had always been so in tune with you and your emotions and the fact that he was still able to read you so well was both a comfort and a knife in your chest, and while he internally grimaced at the fact he was having to fall back on using small talk between you both, he felt like it was what you needed in the moment. He wouldn’t expect things to go back to how they were after all this time, he couldn’t, and so he started with something simple, something he knew you would be able give him an answer to.

“So, what brings you to sunny Rowayton?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you replied.

“Ah,” Chris grinned, trying to keep the mood light. “See I asked you first and also, I live here so therefore the ‘question answering’ responsibility falls back to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, at both his words and the silly little expression he was wearing and despite all the years that sat between you both like a void and all of your hurt that was held within it, it all seemed to briefly melt away and in that moment it was like you were back at that little coffee stand outside of Campion.

“I didn’t realise this was an interrogation. Wait is this one of those little weird cult towns? Should I be worried?”

Chris knew by the little smirk you were wearing that you meant no malice behind your words and so he responded by sucking in air through his teeth before speaking again with one of those smiles that went all the way up to his eyes.

“Watch it, Pickle.”

Your stomach fell right into your shoes in that moment, that name he used only for you slipped from his lips like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do, like he’d never stopped calling you it and like it hadn’t been nine years since you’d last spoke a word to one another. Chris knew all this of course and he didn’t need to rely on intuition either because he could see every emotion written all over your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly on the exhale of a breath. “I um.. Force of habit, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. “Although not exactly ‘habit’, it’s been how long?”

Chris winced at that, the reality of how he left things between you both slapping him in the face and he was filled with the guilt that he’d spent almost a decade pushing out of his chest and shoving into the darkest corner of his memory where he would hope it would rest undisturbed. He knew that you were angry at him for leaving things the way he did, how could you not be? After all, he was the one who had broken your heart and left you in Boston, but it was never as simple as that, even back then there was so much he should have said but that was something he wouldn’t realise until much later when it was too late to repair the damage. The thinly veiled hurt in your eyes and the way your mouth was downturned was demonstrative of that fact.

“I know,” he all but whispered. “It just-“

“It’s fine, Chris. Can we just forget about it? Please?”

He nodded, watching with a quiet kind of sadness on his features as you turned to finally pick your coffee and cinnamon roll up off the counter before he cleared his throat softly to continue speaking.

“You never did say what brought you into town.”

You took a sip of coffee to give yourself long enough to settle the thundering in your chest before answering him, because for all your heart felt like it was about to burst from all the hurt you’d managed to hide away up until now, there was also a weird sense of nostalgia that came with seeing him and hearing his voice again, and even though he’d shattered your heart completely when he decided he no longer wanted you in his life, your mother had raised you right and you knew the proper thing to do was to indulge him in a little small talk, even if for nothing more than old time’s sake.

“Just here for the weekend,” you replied. “Work has been nuts lately and I needed some time away from home.”

Chris shuffled on his feet for a moment as you spoke while his eyes darted between you and the door that would lead to the outside world and the possibility of the two of you parting once more. It was an unexpected pull that he felt in his chest at that thought, you reappearing in his life out of the blue only to slip out of it just as suddenly by doing something as simple as walking out of that supermarket back out into the wide world. For nine years he’d thought about where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy and with each year that passed without seeing your face or hearing your voice, he’d resigned himself to the fact that you were lost to him, drifting out there in the seas of life never to see you again. He didn’t know why you’d suddenly come back to him now, whether by some stroke of luck or twist of fate, although Chris couldn’t have cared less which one it was. All he cared about was the fact that you were here at all and it was an opportunity that he was sure he wasn’t going to waste. He didn’t even know for certain that you would want to give him any of your time after what had happened when he left Boston, but he wanted to at least give you what he should have all those years ago and that was an explanation and an opportunity for you to tell him how his actions had made you feel.

“Hey, what are you up to this afternoon?”

“Not much,” you shrugged. “I was just going to sit on Bayley Beach and enjoy the nice weather.”

“Would you mind some company? No pressure, of course, I understand if you… I understand if you’d rather not want to spend any time with me.”

You exhaled then and Chris’s shoulders visibly sagged, bracing himself for your polite refusal, but your response was not one that he was expecting and truthfully, it wasn’t one that you had expected either.

“Honestly?” you started, getting swept up in the nostalgia of seeing him again before the rational part of your brain could catch up. “That would be nice.”

“Great,” he smiled in what you could see was pure relief. “Do you mind if I grab a coffee before we head out?”

“Sure,” you replied. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

You headed out the door and were sure to stand where Chris could see you, knowing him well enough to realise that he’d be worrying, at least on some level, that you’d slip off into the crowd. You’d never do that to him, of course, even after everything, because while he had broken your heart, he was also the first person you’d ever truly loved and when you’d put the pieces back together, you couldn’t help but keep a part of him wrapped up amongst the tape and string holding those pieces together while you healed. It was in doing that that you understood that he would always have a special place in your heart and honestly? You were kind of okay with that because while the ending hadn’t exactly been perfect, the two years you’d spent together were and you wouldn’t have changed that time for anything.

*

You weren’t sure what exactly had possessed you to let Chris talk you into venturing off campus and out in the early-February snow to get burgers at Eagle’s Deli but you were cursing those sparkling eyes and that roguish grin of his for wearing down your sensibilities as you righted yourself after what felt like the hundredth near-fall. It was slushy underfoot, the kind that’s a twisted ankle or sprained knee waiting to happen and while you’d dressed weather appropriately in your winter boots and heavy parka, you were still very newborn lamb-like in your movements which was amusing Chris to no end.

“Come on, slowpoke,” he called from up ahead as he grinned at you over his shoulder.

“Not all of us can be hockey prodigies and thrive in this kind of inclement weather,” you grumbled, shuffling slowly so as not to slip.

Chris laughed as he came back towards you with confident and purposeful steps, surprising you when he offered his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Now, I’m no expert in geography or meteorology but it snows in Hartford, no?”

He was grinning at you, the kind of grin that you had to fight with every fibre of your being not to reciprocate because you’d already committed to your grumpy act and you couldn’t have him thinking he’d cracked you already, even if he, in fact, had.

“Yes,” you stressed. “But I don’t make a habit of going out in it to get burgers like a crazy person.”

The cackle you received from him in reply was loud and a little wild and you couldn’t help but be completely captivated by the way his cheeks were ruddy from the cold and the snowflakes clinging to the curls on top of his head and long eyelashes. Tuesday morning coffees with him outside of Campion before class had turned into coffees in actual cafes during free periods and getting lunch together. It was even dragging your body out into the cold to the Alumni Stadium with your blanket and your thermos to watch Chris play with the BC Eagles because you couldn’t say no to that damn smile and those damn eyes and even now, as you looked at him taking in the scenery along the Chestnut Hill Reservoir pathway, you knew that they were going to be the death of you.

“It’s really pretty along here,” he spoke, more quietly than before; softer too. “You wouldn’t think we were in the middle of Boston.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice walk,” you agreed before shooting him a smirk and a look. “Would be nice in the spring sunshine too.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Little Miss Chilly.”

“I don’t know what you have against being warm, Kreider. Warm is good, warm is nice-“

You shrieked as your feet went out from under you, courtesy of a patch of black ice hidden under slushy snow and you squeezed your eyes shut in preparation for the impact of your ass hitting the cold, hard ground. But it never came.

“It’s okay,” Chris spoke reassuringly, one hand tight around your bicep while his other arm was curled around your waist, holding you upright. “I’ve got you.”

You opened your eyes then to be met with Chris’s looking right at you, all moss and bark and warm. He was smiling at you but it was different to the easy grin he usually wore around you, this was softer somehow and all rational thought was replaced by one of those monkeys playing the cymbals. For the briefest of seconds, and for reasons completely unknown to you, the monkey tried to take the wheel and the idea of kissing him right there, in the middle of the pathway that had made an attempt on your life, flashed into your head.

Maybe it was the snow and how perfect and picturesque the scene around you felt? Maybe it was the fact he’d just saved you from slipping? But the reality of it was that those eyes and that smile held some sort of power over you that you couldn’t yet fully understand. You shook your head quickly, if only to take back control of the situation before you did something more embarrassing than almost falling on your ass.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you regained your composure. “This damn pathway.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Chris grinned as he turned so his back was to you and stooped slightly. “Hop on.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I never joke about piggy-backs,” he replied in a faux solemn tone with the face to match. “Come on, we’ll get you to the Deli in one piece one way or another.”

And that was how you ended up with your arms looped around Chris’s shoulders and his strong hands holding the backs of your legs as he carried you on his back to Eagle’s Deli.

Not twenty minutes later, the pair of you were shuffling into a booth as you shed your coats, gloves and scarves, Chris grinning at you while you blew on your fingers in an attempt to restore warmth into them.

“See, told you I’d get you here in one piece.”

You scoffed at him and shot a playful glance across the table separating you both.

“You’re not human, that is the only explanation for how you’re able to walk in that,” you nodded towards the window where the snow was still falling to illustrate your point before continuing, “and not fall flat on your face.”

“Or my ass,” he added with a grin.

“Hey, that never actually happened!”

Chris’s face split into an even bigger smile at your little protest and the pout that had formed on your lips and while the gentle teasing between you was simply a part of the dynamic of your friendship, Chris would have been lying if he didn’t admit that the reason he did it so often was because you always looked so adorable trying to rebut him.

“No, you’re right. It didn’t,” he mused with a smirk, not needing to remind you that it was him who had come to your rescue judging from the unimpressed look you were throwing his way.

“All I’m saying is that we could’ve just gone to Hillside for lunch.”

“But the burgers here are superior,” he countered, smiling at you. “And you got to enjoy a beautiful walk in the snow with me so who’s the real winner he- mmpf!”

Chris was cut off by your damp mitten hitting his face, brows knitting into a slight frown before laughing at the proud grin you wore at the accuracy of your throw.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said with mock hurt.

“Maybe I’m not a very nice person.”

“I don’t believe that for one second,” he replied, but there was no teasing in his tone this time, only the kind of sincerity that had your face flushing warm and had you reaching for the menu to hide behind under the pretence of looking at the choices available.

He couldn’t help but smile at the awkwardness with which you were trying and failing to hide from him but soon joined you in picking up a menu and perusing it, despite already knowing what he was going to order.

It was a few moments before the waitress came over and while neither of you spoke the silence between you both wasn’t exactly awkward even though Chris knew there was something about his last words that had had some kind of effect on you. He was right, of course, because despite the fact that you’d had hold of this menu for a good couple of minutes already, you hadn’t actually looked at a single thing on it even though you’d made such a show of doing just that and now that Chris had ordered, a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake, the waitress was looking at you expectantly. Unable to form any kind of rational thought under that kind of pressure, you found yourself simply saying “same” and soon enough it was just you and Chris at the table once more.

Chris was looking at you like he had something he wanted to say and the unreadable expression on his face had you feeling somewhat uneasy for reasons you hadn’t quite ascertained but probably understood on some level if you let yourself think about it for more than a second. He could feel the nervous energy radiating from you though and so rather than pursue his current train of thought, he picked a topic of conversation that was much safer and knew you’d be comfortable with: school.

You talked about your classes and upcoming assignments while he listened intently and you returned the favour while he spoke earnestly about hockey and his own academic workload. It was so easy to settle into a natural rhythm with Chris whenever you talked, as if you’d been having conversations like these for years when in fact it had only been a few months of knowing him and a few weeks of meeting up like this. None of that seemed to really matter though, not when the conversation was good and the chemistry felt right and especially not when it was clear that you were both on the same page when it came to your friendship. There was something else there though, something that was beyond being purely platonic, that much was becoming crystal clear and yet despite the ease in which it was to talk to him about literally anything else, there was something that had you stumbling over the thought of bringing it up.

You were saved from falling down that particular rabbit hole by the reappearance of the waitress, two burgers that were big enough to have your eyes popping out of your head in her hands. Chris chuckled from behind his milkshake at the look of disbelief on your face as your burger was set down in front of you before he reached for the bottle of ketchup between you both. You took the top of your burger bun off, nose immediately wrinkling at the sight of four pickle slices resting on top of the lettuce and tomato.

“Ugh, I forgot to ask for no pickles.”

Chris looked up from where he was squirting ketchup onto his bun, his eyes meeting yours briefly as his face split into a grin.

“You’re not one of those people, are you?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you began to pick the offensive green menaces off your food and set them at the edge of your plate. “I like what I like.”

Chris reached across and began to transfer the pickles from your plate to his burger, smiling widely at you as he did so.

“Well, I might have found a solution to this particular pickle you find yourself in,” he chuckled at the exaggerated groan and roll of your eyes at the expense of his joke. “You see, I love pickles.”

“You love anything,” you countered. “You’re like a human dumpster.”

“Hurtful,” he replied as he clutched at his chest. “But also true so I’ll allow it.”

You picked up a fry from your plate and threw it at him, immediately filled with equal parts surprise and a strange sense of awe as he reflexively moved and caught it in his mouth.

“You really are a dumpster,” you grinned as you shook your head at the proud little smile he was giving you.

“I am, so how about you don’t ask for no pickles on your burgers and you just give ‘em to me instead?”

It was easy to agree to his proposal, not least because his logic actually made a lot of sense when you thought about it, but mostly because of the way his eyes were sparkling and the way his smile made you feel warm all over, like the falling snow and freezing air outside didn’t exist, like your fingers and toes hadn’t been numbed by the biting cold during your walk here, like there had only ever been sunshine. It was also why you’d agreed to let him carry you back through the snow to your dorm, his large hands hooked around the backs of your thighs and your arms draped over his shoulders much like during the walk to the diner. You’d protested initially, of course, not wanting to burden Chris or put you both at risk of an injury due to the slippery conditions, but he wasn’t about to be convinced otherwise and remained unperturbed by the weather, gently reminding you that he had in fact got you to the diner in one piece in the first instance at your objections.

Truthfully, despite the mild embarrassment you felt at your complete ineptitude when it came to walking on ice, you couldn’t help but be more than a little impressed at Chris’s sheer strength. You wondered then, about how hard he must work in the gym to develop such a strong core because while you knew from first-hand experience how slippery it was underfoot, he didn’t falter once throughout the entire walk home and with the way he was talking amiably about his favourite places in the city he called home, and how his hands were holding your legs so surely and securely, you felt safe as houses with your chest pressed into his back – even with your thick coats and layers of winter clothing between you.

He walked with you on his back right up to the entrance of your dorm, setting you down carefully on the pathway that looked to have been newly shovelled before he turned to face you, his cheeks once again ruddy from the cold and your walk home.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ twice in one day,” he grinned, sucking air in through his teeth and shaking his head slightly. “But didn’t I say that I’d get you home safely?”

“So what if you were right twice?” you rebutted with a playful nudge. “It’s not like it’s ever gonna happen again.”

“Watch it, Pickle. I’ll have you know that I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Pickle?” you barked out a laugh, watching as Chris walked slowly backwards down the path away from you with that smile still on his face. “What kind of a name is that? I don’t even like pickles.”

“I know,” he called out into the growing distance between you both. “But I do, remember?”

You shook your head at him, chuckling to yourself with a smile on your lips that mirrored his as you watched him.

“See ya Tuesday then, Trash Can!” you hollered.

His raucous cackle cut through the silent flurry as he continued to walk slowly backwards, his grin clear as day even through the falling snowflakes.

“Trash Can! Fucking, Trash Can! Man, you got some serious chirps, Pickle. Can you throw hands too? I mean, I know you suck at keeping your balance on the ice but we could use an enforcer! I could push you around?”

“Anytime, anywhere!” you laughed, watching him with a grin until he had waved his goodbye and turned away before he retreated into the heavy snow.

Part ii

[karmicstar]

YEMAYA...

Holy Queen Sea

Yemaya, Queen of the Sea, epitomizes motherhood and rules all issues pertaining to women. She is among the most powerful and beloved of the Seven African Powers, the sexy matriarch of the Yoruba spirits known as orishas. The translation of her name, “The Mother Whose Children are Fish” has dual implications:

• Yemaya’s children are innumerable: she is the mother of most of the orishas.

• Her generosity and benevolence have also garnered her countless human devotees, equivalent to the innumerable fish of the sea.

Yemaya has profound associations with the sea and saltwater. She resides in the sea, she is the spirit of the sea, and she is the sea, literally present in ocean water. Her nature resembles that of the sea: profound, beautiful, filled with treasure and generosity but also potentially tempestuous. Yemaya generously bestows abundance, wealth, healing, love, and fertility, but she is also the essence of tidal waves and rip currents.

Yemaya, a profoundly powerful orisha, may be petitioned for:

• Anything possibly considered a “woman’s issue”

• Fertility and reproductive issues

• Protection from domestic violence, which she despises

• Protection when traveling over the sea

However, those who develop an especially close relationship with Yemaya must be extra cautious when actually near the sea. Communicate with her constantly when in the water or beside it. Remind her that you are human and must live on land. Yemaya doesn’t intend to cause harm but likes to keep everything she loves—her treasures—near her.

Once upon a time, Yemaya lived in the cemetery and Oya in the sea. Yemaya tricked Oya into permanently trading places. Oya has never entirely forgiven her. Do not feed or venerate them side by side. Leave some distance between these two powerful orishas.

Yemaya is syncretized to the Stella Maris and the Black Madonna of Regla.

Favored people:

Anyone of African descent whose ancestors survived the Middle Passage to the West may consider their connection to Yemaya established. It is traditionally believed that anyone who survived did so through her grace, while those who did not survive were received into her body.

Yemaya also protects:

• Women and children

• Practitioners of the occult

• Those born under water signs, especially Cancers

Also known as:

Yemalla; Yemoja; Yemalia; Yemaja; Iemanja

Origin:

Yoruba (Nigeria)

Classifications:

Orisha; Mermaid

Manifestations:

Whether manifesting as woman or mermaid, Yemaya is always spectacularly beautiful. She can be sexually provocative with a rolling, hip-swaying walk that evokes the sea. Her traditional costume includes seven skirts. Her hair, clothes, and body may be ornamented with crystals, pearls, coral, or tiny bells.

Attributes:

Seashells, marine motifs

Emblem:

Star and half moon; Yemaya is the only orisha associated with two heavenly bodies—one isn’t sufficient to represent her beauty.

Colors:

Blue, white

Birds:

Doves, ducks, peacocks

Creatures:

Fish, all sea creatures

Element:

Water

Metal:

Silver

Number:

7

Planet:

Moon, which controls the sea

Plants:

> Indigo, seaweed, water hyacinth

Minerals:

Quartz crystal, pearls, coral

Places:

Originally the spirit of Nigeria’s Ogun River, her profound associations with the ocean may have coincided with the African slave trade.

Day:

Saturday

Time:

• 2 February

• Summer Solstice •15 August (Brazil)

• 7 September (Cuba)

• New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. Midnight, the threshold between years, is her power moment.

Altar:

Devotees traditionally visit her at the ocean, bearing gifts. Alternatively, create an altar for Yemaya featuring saltwater and ocean motifs at home. Yemaya’s shrine should evoke the sea. Decorate it with nets, seashells, sea stars, and sea horses. Add salted water to a crystal glass containing small seashells.

Offerings:

Jewelry, perfume, brand new scented soap still in its wrapper; flowers, especially white roses. Yemaya’s favorite food offerings include wet seedy fruits like pomegranates and watermelon plus fish, duck, and lamb dishes. She likes to snack on pork cracklings, plantain or banana chips and pound or coconut cake. Garnish everything with generous libations of molasses. Gifts on behalf of the marine environment and sea creatures may also please her.

HOW TO PETITION YEMAYA

• Summon her with a gourd rattle.

• Petition her at the beach.

• Can’t get to the beach? Yemaya’s fellow water spirit, Oshun, spirit of sweet waters, will accept offerings on her behalf. Deposit gifts for Yemaya in flowing streams or rivers. Nothing is free, however: if utilizing Oshun’s services, be sure to speak to her first, explaining that you would like her to deliver your offering to Yemaya. Bring Oshun an appropriate gift, too.

YEMAYA CLEANSING SPELL

Re-create the sea: add sea salt to spring water.

• Murmur over it. Tell the water your goals and what you seek. Invoke, petition, or pray to Yemaya.

• Sprinkle the water over your naked body from head to toe using your fingers or a roseMary branch.

• Let the water remain on your body for a little while, and then gently pat yourself dry with a brand-new clean white towel or cloth.

• Put on clean clothes.

• Take the cloth to the sea with seven white roses; throw everything in the water.

• Walk away and don’t look back.

Although there is one Yemaya, she also has multiple paths, which may be venerated independently. Alternatively they may be understood as different facets of one extremely complex, profound goddess. Yemaya’s different paths are symbolized by different shades of blue (and sometimes by unique attributes). The particular hue represents each path’s specific natureand home. Thus the aspects of Yemaya who live closest to land or the water’s surface are represented by paler shades than those dwelling in the depths. Aggressive, violent aspects of Yemaya also claim the color red.

The following are but a few of her many aspects:

YEMAYA ASESUN

Yemaya Asesun, an ancient path of Yemaya, is Queen of Water Birds including ducks, geese, and swans. She rules the springs that gush forth from Earth, especially in deep forests.

Color:

Light blue

YEMAYA ASHAGBA

Yemaya Ashagba, “The Chain,” is Olokun’s first child and may be the oldest, most primordial aspect of Yemaya. (See Yembo below.) Queen of the Anchor, Yemaya Ashagba connects the bottom of the sea with the top. She is a spirit of divination and healing. When angered, floods, and tidal waves are her weapons.

Attribute:

Anchor

Color:

Light blue

YEMAYA ATAREMAWA

Yemaya Ataremawa, the queen who is ever so important, owns all treasures of the sea. She has a home in the forest.

Color:

Light blue

YEMAYA IBU AGANA

Yemaya Ibu Agana is a wrathful aspect of Yemaya who lives at the bottom of the sea where she churns destruction.

Color:

Deep blue

YEMAYA IBU ARO

Yemaya Ibu Aro distributes treasure. She controls trade routes and markets.

Colors:

Indigo blue, red coral

YEMAYA MAYALEWO

Yemaya Mayalewo, Queen of the Harbor, the One Who Tends to Commerce and Trade, lives at the bay’s entrance. She is queen of the marketplace, Oya’s prime competitor.

Color:

Light blue, teal

YEMAYA OGUNTé

Yemaya Ogunté is Warrior Yemaya: the courageous, fearless warrior who fights alongside Ogun. She lives on rocky, treacherous coastlines and wears a crown of seven machetes.

Color:

Midnight blue, red

YEMAYA OKOTO

Yemaya Okoto, the Pirate Queen, causes shipwrecks and drags ships and treasure down to the ocean floor. Her name means “the one who lives amongst the seashells.” Her crown is a shark’s jawbone. She clenches a dagger between her teeth. She rules all predatory marine creatures who serve as her messengers and servants, possibly including human pirates. Yemaya Okoto fills the sea with blood. The Red Sea is her official hideout, but she sails where she chooses. (To complicate matters further, Yemaya and her daughter, love goddess Oshun, may be alter-egos of Lady Asherah, another Red Sea Queen and her daughter, love goddess Astarte.) She is also known as Yemaya Ibu Okoto.

Color:

Indigo, navy blue, blood red

Altar:

Decorate with Jolly Rogers and pirate flags

YEMBO

Yembo may be Yemaya’s mother or the oldest form of Yemaya. Yembo may be the mother of the orishas. Because Ogun allegedly raped her, metal knives are not permitted in her presence or used in her offerings. Substitute crystal, stone, or wood

[winterrose527]

have you done an Ella - museum curator, Robb - investor on a tour work??

Ummmm no I had not! And wow was this one cathartic to write. It came out way longer than expected because this is a subject near and dear to my heart...

Thank you for this prompt!!

***

She was so sick of this shit.

Over a year of it. Ever since the governor’s order in April 2020. Back then she’d almost believed it was just a blip, a couple of weeks. A vacation, almost.

But then the ban on gatherings. The shutdowns. Finally the masks.

Every museum in the country had shut its doors along with libraries, movie theaters, and every other place desperate parents could take their children on a rainy Saturday.

Theirs had been luckier than most. An endowment a few years prior, which had been earmarked but not mandated for an expansion had been used to keep the lights on and the staff fed - literally. Their programming had gone virtual and understandably attendance had dropped but not entirely – thanks to a few local artists that had generously donated their time for a last minute plug.

Ever since restrictions had lifted, the crowds had returned somewhat. A rainy spring and summer had helped, but they were nowhere near their ‘pre-pandemic’ levels (and with the Delta variant on the rise she wasn’t super comfortable with the term ‘post-pandemic’ to describe their current state of affairs).

She wouldn’t say that today though.

No, today everything would be rosy – not just the botanical gardens that abutted the museum and had been started in 1853 – no, 1854.

Not that she imagined the potential donor would be fact checking her but nevertheless there was no room for error. She needed to represent the museum well. Her colleagues were counting on her – not to mention the collection itself depended on her.

The board had decided at its most recent meeting if they didn’t get an influx of donations within this quarter they were going to sell off a few pieces from the collection.

There was nothing sadder to a museum than deaccessioning. The staff all loved and protected the collection, and they truly felt the impact they and it had on the community. Myrcella loved to walk through the galleries on Thursday afternoons to see the regulars who’d come to visit the paintings like old friends of theirs, stopping by to say hello to a Baroque oil here or an Impressionist watercolor there.

So if schmoozing yet another prospective donor was what it took to mean that Mr. Poole’s favorite still-life stayed put for his bi-weekly Wednesday morning visit, then she would schmooze. She would schmooze Sansa Stark like her life depended on it.

She knew Sansa Stark sort of. It was the sort of thing where pre-pandemic they had run into each other at half a dozen events every year and always had a lovely chat and discussed getting together and then never did. The North was a small world and they ran in similar circles. But they weren’t friends.

Still, she was her best bet. From the wealthiest and most philanthropic family in the North, of course she was.

And she had to deliver.

The board had all made it clear that they expected results, and it had been suggested that really Myrcella Baratheon shouldn’t have such a hard time finding donors. But all her usual suspects had come to her with their own sob stories full of please tell me you won’t shut your doors but without any promise of relief, and the people she knew down south – the sort that profited from the world being in such dire straits had no interest in a little regional museum. No matter how much she marketed it as a hidden jewel.

To them, there was little worth in a jewel hidden, and they had no interest in having their act of charity buried under the northern snows.

So Sansa Stark was it.

She smoothed her dress, chosen carefully for the occasion. Sansa was always impeccably dressed and favored ladylike, tailored dresses for daytime, just as Myrcella did. Today, which had turned out to be a gorgeous one, she’d chosen a pale blue scallop trim knit dress, her grandmother’s wristwatch her only accessory. Feminine but appropriate. More comfortable than the clingier dresses she only ever so occasionally wore when taking around a male potential benefactor.

“Good luck,” Gilly, their glum registrar said as she raised her wrist to her nose to make sure she could still smell the scented oil she’d spread there that morning.

“Thanks baby,” Myrcella sighed, “Lunch from that naughty salad place when I’m done? My treat?”

Gilly smiled at that, “My treat if you get her.”

“Oh, now the stakes are really high,” she teased and blew Gilly a kiss and walked through the halls.

She felt eyes on her as she went. It was a small, tight-knit team, and it made it all the harder every time she received a sheepish regret. If she couldn’t succeed, one of them might lose their job if the board couldn’t decide what to sell. Even if they could, depending on how long this lasted.

Game face, Baratheon.

She took a deep breath and then smiled for fifteen seconds. She let it drop, knowing that it would still be in her eyes when she walked outside and it felt a little more genuine when her heels clacked along the gorgeous marble floor.

Walking over to the security desk, the smile reappeared on her face.

“Morning Roddy,” she grinned.

“Good morning to you Miss Myrcella,” Rodrick greeted her, “You see the game last night?”

“You’ve known me for four years,” she noted, “When in all of that time have I ever seen the game?”

He chuckled, “There was that one time in 2018.”

“Oh no, I totally lied about that,” she assured him, shrugging, “I wanted you to think I was cool.” She then looked around the empty lobby, “No Miss Stark?”

He grimaced, “Not yet. Traffic is back though, folks still aren’t used to it.”

She nodded, picking at a non-existent thread on her dress and looked around. Her eyes narrowed in on something and she crossed the lobby and picked up a tiny scrap of paper, crumbling it in her hand and then walking back over and tossing it in the trash behind Roddy’s desk.

“I’ve been sitting here for two hours, didn’t see it,” he noted.

She smiled, “Well you’ve been doing less important things like making sure no one robs the place.”

He opened his mouth to say something to her but then his gaze was directed behind her, “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t open until 11 o’clock on Tuesdays.”

“I sort of have an appointment,” the man said.

She knew that voice. She’d heard it before. In a coat closet at Alys Karstark’s birthday party. At the next table over at a charity even in 2019. Deep, stubbornly Northern, as unyielding as Valyrian steel.

She felt her palms sweat and forced herself not to rub them on her dress, rubbing them together instead and then turning around with a bright smile.

“You’re not Sansa Stark,” she greeted him.

He grinned sheepishly, though she wasn’t sure this man had ever had occasion to be sheepish in his entire life, “Afraid not. Myrcella, right? We met at that thing – that um… save the…whatsits.”

She giggled, and she heard the sound echoing garishly on the marble, “I believe that evening we were saving the seals. Or the… tulips, maybe.”

His smile spread slowly across his face, a dimple marking its end like an exclamation point, “Well we did our part even if we can’t remember what it was, I’m Robb Stark.”

She liked that he introduced himself. He’d done so every time they’d met, as though he in no way expected her to remember him. Sansa had done it the first five or so. Must have been how they were raised.

On the other hand, she’d been raised to act as though someone was foolish for not knowing who she was, introducing herself had been something she’d had to learn when she moved north, like parallel parking and salting her stoop.

Her hand extended and his met it, taking hers in his larger one and shaking it firmly as he looked her in the eyes briefly and then her lips slightly longer before purposefully going back to her eyes, “Myrcella Baratheon, and I remember you, Mr. Stark.”

“Well if that were true you’d remember I prefer Robb,” he noted, releasing her hand.

She shrugged, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Old habits. Can I get you something to drink before we begin our tour?”

“No thank you, I’m fine,” he shook his head.

She nodded, “Well it’s beautiful out now, why don’t we start in the botanical gardens. There’s been a bumper crop this year, we recently had the Cerwyn wedding here, did you attend?”

He fell into step next to her and said, “No, I didn’t. I was meant to but they reduced it to just family.”

She nodded, “Right, seems to be happening quite a bit. Will you do the same for your wedding?”

He stopped walking briefly and before she could stop too he had started again, “No… uh, rather than reduce the guest list we decided not to have it at all. We called the engagement off in January.”

“I’m so sorry!” she internally stabbed herself in the throat, “I didn’t know.”

He shrugged, “The nice thing about there not being any events over the past year is that the press didn’t really get wind of it.” Then stopped abruptly, “Not that… it’s not like that makes up for the past year or anything.”

She laughed, “Don’t worry, I know what you meant. I am sorry though, about your engagement.”

“As am I,” he agreed, “But it’s for the best. We parted as friends. Had we gotten married, I’m not sure we could have done so, so I’m grateful for that, and for her.”

A gentleman.

So many men played the part. Opening doors, buying flowers. So few of them realized that manners mattered very little when they were offered without grace.

“That’s lovely,” she noted, pleased for once not to have to lie.

It was a gorgeous day, a perfect seventy-nine degrees and clear blue skies. As though they’d understood the importance of the occasion, the Phlox stood proudly in battle formation and the scent of honeysuckle surrounded them.

“Sansa wanted me to apologize for missing your meeting,” Robb noted.

“I hope nothing’s the matter?” she asked.

A grin overtook his face, “No nothing at all. She’s in labor.”

She smiled, grabbing his forearm briefly. They both looked down at her hand on it and she pulled it back as gingerly as she could.

“That’s wonderful,” she told him, “Her second, right?”

He nodded, “A girl. And I’ve convinced her out of the name Corona.”

She chuckled, “Oh come now, you could call her Corrie for short.”

“And her parents idiots for long,” he noted. Then told her, “They weren’t really going to call her Corona.”

She smiled, “And here I was about to tip off the press…”

He smirked, “Narrow miss, then.” He looked around, “So. Flowers.”

“Not just flowers,” she pointed out, “We have a community garden to the left and down that lane local beekeepers keep their hives.”

“My mistake,” he allowed with a close-lipped smile.

That smile annoyed her. It was the same one she’d heard in the voice of every southern donor she’d called when they’d offered her good luck with her little country museum.

It was the smile someone gave her when she’d already lost.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” she noted, ��I can show you our contemporary wing which we’ve recently devoted to elevating female and underrepresented artists. Or perhaps that’s a bit too avant-garde for you. Would you like to see our hall of armor and weaponry? I believe we have a few pieces that your ancestors left on one battlefield or another.”

“I’m sorry,” he noted, rubbing his jaw, “I told Sansa we should just cancel this meeting but she insisted.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark –“

“Robb,” he corrected her.

“No, I’m addressing Mr. Stark right now,” she argued, all of the frustration and helplessness of the past few months bubbling up inside of her, “May I ask what exactly it is about this that you find amusing? Is it the painting that we’re going to have to sell so that it can end up in someone’s climate controlled storage unit and never looked at again? Or is it the leaky roof? Perhaps the pay cut we asked all senior employees to take? Or how about the summer interns who had gone through a rigorous hiring process only to be told we couldn’t take them on at all? I certainly hope it’s not the seniors who used to come here for their Saturday afternoon watercolor classes which we had to cancel because we didn’t have anything to pay the instructor even though it would have been the perfect activity for them because it is outdoors and safe. Or maybe it’s the after-school programs you find so laughable…”

“I’m not laughing,” he pointed out. “But you’ll forgive me if I take your righteousness with a grain of salt.”

“I’m not sure that I will, actually,” she argued.

“No?” he asked, “Well let’s talk about those seniors? Don’t you think that funding is better spent ensuring they have free and safe access to the vaccination that can actually save their lives? Or what about those kids? Sure, the after-school program is great, but how about providing computers to allow them to do remote learning? Now I’m sorry if you have to lose one of a thousand paintings in this place, but if money can be better spent giving people what they really need then I’m sorry – sell the damn thing.”

That was hard to argue with.

But not impossible.

“So you’ve drained your coffers?” she asked.

There was only room for one of them on the moral high ground and she’d always enjoyed the view.

His cheeks had turned blotchy in anger but they paled now, “Excuse me?”

“Are you in the red?” she asked, “Declaring bankruptcy? Let’s not go that far - Taking out loans? Leveraging assets?”

His jaw clenched, revealing a muscle in his left cheek that might have been attractive if she wasn’t about to rip his head off.

“No,” he noted, “But my family’s company and my family have given an exceptional amount this year already.”

“Well,” she pointed out, “It has been an exceptional year already.”

“Are you always this haughty with potential donors?” he asked, stepping ever so slightly closer to her.

A flash in her mind of his hand ghosting across the back of her neck as he secured her coat over her shoulders. That smell.

“Never,” she admitted, stepping ever so slightly towards him, “But you’re not a potential donor, are you? And tell me, is it really because you don’t think it’s worthwhile or because it doesn’t sound worthwhile?”

His face contorted in anger, “You think we’re giving so that people will write songs about us? We want this country back on its feet. We want to return to normal and if we can’t do that, we want to make sure to give people as comfortable an existence until it reverts on its own. Tell me, Miss Baratheon, can you actually find fault in that?”

She shook her head, “No, I can’t.” He looked surprised and she shrugged, “It’s a flawless argument. Just an incomplete one. Giving an exceptional amount right now isn’t enough. You have to give until it hurts, because you can. It is wonderful, exceptional, heroic, to be doing all that you have done so far. But what comes next? What comes after? What happens when the dust settles? When things open? When we get things under control? What happens when people are ready to return to what was before and none of it is left because it wasn’t deemed essential. Because it’s just flowers and amateur beekeepers and pretty watercolors? I understand that we are not on the top of the list and we shouldn’t be. But we should be on the list. We need to do more than survive, Robb. There are things apart from us that we need to endure. Things we need to protect.”

His mouth twitched at that.

“I’m sorry to say I don’t have time to see the armor,” he told her.

She felt the defeat trickle through her veins slowly.

She held out her hand, “Thank you for letting me rant at you.”

He shook it once again, narrowing his eyes at her, “Something tells me you’ve still got some left in the tank. I’d quite like to hear it. Have dinner with me tonight and convince me.”

It was happening to all of her girlfriends. After a year in isolation, their ability to detect a creep from a mile away had withered. She hadn’t thought that hers had too. He’d seemed like one of the good ones.

She pulled her hand away, “That’s not the way I do business, Mr. Stark.”

His eyes widened in horror, “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t get to make these decisions.”

“You’re the CEO,” she pointed out.

“Yes I am but Sansa insisted on inserting a clause into her contract that she gets final say over any philanthropic decisions,” he sighed, “I literally am not even allowed to choose the location of a book drive.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, a tiny bit of hope bubbling inside of her, “So when you said you should have cancelled the meeting…”

“It’s because Sansa’s already decided that we will be giving a donation, she wanted to discuss the structure of it with you – you know whether you’d prefer a lump sum, or whether you want it in increments, if you wanted it to be public to inspire other donors or whether you wanted it to be private so that they couldn’t use it as an excuse not to give…” he waved his hand, “She’s better at the specifics and I’m sure she’ll be calling you in between contractions to fine tune them.”

She laughed, “Please tell her not to. A pledge is more than enough to take to my board, we can map out the nitty gritty whenever she or whomever will be replacing her in the interim has time.”

He nodded, “You’ll have them within the week.”

She was about to thank him but the words caught in her mouth, “So wait a second… did you just wind me up for the sake of it?”

He grinned, a chuckle present in his voice though it hadn’t yet broken, “I’d like to point out that it took very little to wind you up.”

She laughed, because he was right and admitted, “It’s been a tough year.”

He nodded, “For everyone. So, now that you know I have absolutely no control and can hold absolutely nothing over you… have dinner with me.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I enjoy arguing with you,” he told her, then grinned sheepishly, “And because I lied. Sansa told me that I could cancel the meeting and I insisted on coming because I wanted to see you. The bad thing about this year is that there were no events where I could have a chance of bumping into you…”

“Oh that’s the bad thing about this year?” she asked.

“Well,” he grinned, then did a scarily good impression of her, “Maybe it shouldn’t be at the top of the list, but it should be on the list.”

[tikara]

DJ Headcanon Dump

I saw my DJ buddies put together their miscellaneous headcanons for the DJs in a big list, and they’ve inspired me to do the same! Shoutout to @tapswitcher-theoneandonly and @farey8336 for inspiring me to do this! 💕

A lot of my headcanons are inspired by other folk’s interpretations mixed with my own ideas and experiences. Some of the things here I may have already elaborated on in previous drawings and comics. Prepare for a lot of text because I have a lot to say about these two DJs that mean a lot to me ahah//

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- When it comes to their ages, I like to keep them to more of a range without a pinpoint number. DJ Yellow is in his mid-to-late 20s, Student is in his early-to-mid 20s, and there’s a 2-4 year age gap between them. So for example, if Student is say, 23, then that means DJ Yellow could 25-27. The reverse works as well; if DJ Yellow is 28, then Student could be 24-26. Again, no concrete numbers but a very defined range.

- DJ Yellow is 6’0” / 182cm, and Student is 6’1½” /186cm. DJ Yellow’s frame and body shape is twink slimmer than Student’s. I have no idea how much they would weight.

- While I don’t have a defined date for their birthdays, I do have ideas for the seasons their birthdays take place in; Student’s birthday is in the winter, and DJ Yellow’s birthday is in the late spring/early summer.

- Much like how online creators often use pseudonyms and screennames in lieu of their real names, “DJ Yellow” and “Student/DJ Blue” are their stage names. They have real first and last names, but prefer to be called by their stagenames even with friends. Think of it like how if you meet with online people in person you still refer to them by their online names haha. This goes for all of the folks in the rapper groups (Rap Men/Women, Adore and the Love Posse).

As for what their real names are? I’ve decided on their names for a while now and have vaguely hinted at DJ Yellow’s surname in an older piece, but despite being proud of the names I’ve come up with I’m not confident enough to share them publicly haha… Maybe as a riddle for folks to figure out?

- The reason Student has his fishmonger job (as seen in Catch-of-the-Day’s Try again screen) is because his family works in the fishing business! When he decided to move out on his own into the city, his family was able to help secure him a job with the local fish market so he didn’t have to worry about finding work as he settled in. Student is very knowledgeable about fish and the fishing industry because of his upbringing!

- Student’s schedule Monday-Saturday is: wake up at 7am, have breakfast and get ready for work, leave by 7:30am, take the public transport train to the fishmarket, work the mid-morning to closing shift from 8am to 4pm with lunch in between, do a bit of shopping to pick up dinner supplies before he catches the 4:30pm train, arrive back home at around 5pm, take a shower to get rid of the fish smell, then spend the rest of the night doing whatever until he goes to bed around 11pm-midnight. On Saturday nights he stays up a bit later, but he tries to never stay up past 2am. Sunday is his day off.

- Student is actually pretty physically strong! Since a lot of his work involves carrying around tubs and crates of ice and fish, he has pretty good upper body strength. He can easily pick up and carry DJ Yellow around without breaking a sweat, something that DJ Yellow has a lot of difficulty doing himself haha.

- Student actually knows a good bit of sign language! It’s only really shown when he has to help mute or hard-of-hearing/deaf customers at the fish market.

- DJ Yellow loves birds, especially from the parrot family! Budgies, cockatiels, amazons, cockatoos, lovebirds, macaws, etc. He wants to be a bird dad once he’s in a better home environment for birdkeeping. Until then, he often hangs out with his bird buddy, Eglantine, to get his bird fix. He’s also a big fan of the comedy routines of Crow and Vulture!

- DJ Yellow lives in a small studio apartment close to the downtown livehouse he works and does lessons at, and it’s thanks to MC Adore that he was able to get a place so close to the venue. Student eventually becomes his roommate, and in the future once DJ Yellow’s album is successful they upgrade to a small house.

- Other than seeing the people close to him get hurt or letting Student finally go out by himself to perform his own DJing sets, the one thing that DJ Yellow is absolutely terrified of? Ghosts.

- DJ Yellow is a hardcore audiophile, and spends way too much money on purchasing new audio equipment for him to use either in his gigs or with his home setup. He does like to repair and refurbish secondhand turntables, however; the turntables he uses for his classes were all refurbished by him! He also enjoys checking out electronic music stores and browsing through their vinyl record sections for hidden gems.

- The reason DJ Yellow never removes his headphones around anyone not only has to do with image branding, but he uses his headphones as a personal confidence boost since he’s never felt 'right' without wearing something on his head, and anyone seeing him without his headphones or otherwise 'bald' would be panic attack territory for him. If DJ Yellow allows someone see him without his headphones, that’s the official sign that he has complete and total trust in them.

- On the topic of head headphones, I’ve always interpreted the antenna to be able to move around according to his emotions! Upright when excited/alert/surprised, flattened back when upset/nervous/concentrating, etc. How they work is a mystery.

- Even more headphones stuff, Student has had three pairs over time; his original low-quality pair he had when he first moved to the city, the higher quality ones that DJ Yellow gifted him in the early days of when they were doing lessons together, and a mid-quality pair that he wears at work.

- When it comes to cooking, Student is better at hands-on cooking (chopping vegetables, working on a stovetop, etc) while DJ Yellow prefers hand-off cooking (ie. stick it in the oven/microwave until it’s done). DJ Yellow is terrible in the kitchen, which is something Student is trying to help him improve with.

- Regarding food preferences, they both enjoy sweets like cakes and puddings, DJ Yellow enjoys spicy and sour flavors, and Student enjoys savory, salty, and bitter flavors.

DJ Yellow’s favorite foods: japanese curry, piccata dishes, spicy noodle dishes, sour drinks/candies.

Student’s favorite foods: vegetable stir-fries, teriyaki dishes, egg dishes such as tamagoyaki and egg sandwiches, unsweetened iced teas, salted candies.

Their usual drink orders from Barista’s café are a double-shot machiatto for DJ Yellow and chai latté for Student.

- Neither of the DJs have driver’s licenses. If they need to be driven somewhere they call up Yellow Rapper since he’s the only one of the two rappers that does know how to drive. They often carpool with the Rap Men when going to events or going out for food.

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I also have a whooole bunch of headcanons that have to do with their romantic relationship, but I’m refraining from sharing them since I’d like to keep my blog as accessible as possible for those that aren’t into shipping these two. I can at least confirm that they are both very affectionate, supportive, and loving with each other 💛💙

Enjoy the headcanons! If you have anything you’d like me to elaborate on or other interpretations to give my thoughts on, I’d be happy to answer cause I love talking about these DJs a lot//